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aurasplanet · 3 days

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GOT IT CYCLOPS? carl grimes x fem!reader

warnings — both are 18+, stupid grimes part 2, e2l?, adopted!rhee!reader, teasing, making out, fingering, jerking off, lovesick once they stop having bitch fights

it went unspoken that you and carl were going to ignore that day in the janitor’s closet. you both were snapped into reality and rescued before things could escalate much further, leaving tension and awkwardness at a high.

and carl couldn’t tell if he liked that or not, on one hand, he’s glad he let everything out and the two of you shared a moment. on the other, you’re really hot when you’re mad.

currently you were ready to chew his ass out, ready to pound his face in for being so stupid. he walked through the streets of alexandria with you hot on his trail, a smirk playing on his lips despite the circumstances.

this was another instance where the adults were trying to put you both together again. they noticed how at peace you seemed after coming home that one day, despite being bombarded by a herd. but after that it was right back to how it was before. and they were determined.

it was mostly rick and daryl, your mom too if she weren’t at the hilltop. you can still remember carl begging you to stay and then acting like he hated your guts again when you caved.

this time the run was nearly successful, though on the way back to your car to load up and leave, carl decided to pick a fight.

carl lifts the trunk with a grunt, tossing in diapers and other things judith needed. you were carrying miscellaneous things negan would want, making your way to the car. you sling your haul into the trunk, turning with a grimace when you hear carl’s snarky laughter.

he points behind you at a trio of walkers headed your way. from the looks of it, it’s only them. but you settle for just your knife anyway. but carl’s hand is on your shoulder before you can make your way to them, they’re about thirty feet away.

“rock paper scissors for ‘em.” he smirks and holds out his fist. you narrow your eyes at him and swat at his hand.

“are you crazy? let’s just deal with them.” you remember him lecturing those kids for playing with the walkers before, now look at him.

carl lifts his hands in the air, “i forgot how afraid you are of losing.” you go to turn to him, ready to spew out the meanest things that came to your head. but he darts ahead of you, killing two of the walkers. the last one is able to get it’s hands on him while he was busying himself with it’s friends. you watch amused as he tackles it to the ground, showing a little struggle as he does so.

you make slow steps to him, watching for a while until the walker’s mouth gets dangerously close to carl’s neck. carl who was still telling you to hold off on killing it. but you ignore him, running over and piercing through it’s eye with your blade in one swift motion.

“i said i fucking had it,” carl huffs as he stands, brushing off his clothes. he looks to you, your sour expression stunning him. “what’s that look for?”

you let out a short laugh and poke the inside of your cheek with your tongue. “you had it? come on, if i wasted thirty more seconds listening to you, i’d have a dead grimes on my hands.”

carl smirks and walks closer to you, placing a hand on your waist, “didn’t know you cared that much, rhee.” you push him away with a dirty look,

“this little cool guy act doesn’t amuse me.” carl sighs and slides his knife back in his belt. “you know what will happen to me if i come back with you bit? i’ll never be trusted again.”

“admit you’d be at least a little sad.” carl’s voice isn’t teasing anymore, it sounds like he genuinely wants you to say it. like he believed you would be so heartless. you just sigh and nod, mumbling a ‘whatever’ and walk to the car. that’s enough for him.

you were still pissed at him for that little stunt, and made it very known. you followed him around all day, making sure to let any strange lookers know that his reckless behavior led him to being babysat all the time.

instead of bickering back he just took it, and even laughed. “what are you laughing at grimes?”

he shrugs, lifting his hat to run a hand through his hair. “i just like riling you up like this.” he smiles at your annoyed expression. “it’s fun!” you roll your eyes and walk past him, parting from him for the first time that day. he looks at where you were just standing, then behind him, running a bit to catch up to you. the approaching footsteps behind you cause you to sigh and cross your arms.

“what happened to babysitting me?”

his voice is still laced with humor, it’s starting to make you mad. “carl.” you whip around, your stern voice startles him, leading him to freeze. you get close to him, so close he can feel your breath on his lips. again, and it drives him crazy.

your composure falls and you adjust yourself on your feet. “carl, i’m not riled up, i’m not just babysitting you. what happened today scared me. you got too cocky with things and almost got yourself killed.”

carl bites his lip nervously, looking into your eyes. he dips his head down, not worrying about the gazes trained on you. “let me make it up to you.”

his lips brush yours and you place your hands on his chest, blocking him from going further. he pouts slightly, tilting his head. “that won’t work this time.”

that night you laid in your dark room, not bothering to turn on the lantern. you were lost in your thoughts, what if you had just let carl be? what if he did get bit? why is he playing it off like it didn’t happen? why is he playing that night off like it didn’t happen?

the last thing has made you snarkier with him. you were pissed he was acting like he hadn’t confessed to you, like he hadn’t kissed you and almost took it to the next base if it weren’t for your little rescue team.

a noise rips you out of your thoughts. it sounded like something small hitting glass. you lift the headphones of your walkman off your head and creep over to your window. on the way you slide your gun off your nightstand, would you realistically need it? nine out of ten times no one could get in the walls, but you’ve learned to never play it too safe.

another noise comes before you can reach the window and you sigh when you see the pebble hit the glass and fall. carl.

you huff and toss your gun onto your bed, rushing to the window and throwing it open. your hands slam on the window seal, a loud smack sound echoing through the night.

“that was a little dramatic.”

“what do you want, grimes?” carl answers you by climbing the tree next to your window. you roll your eyes but stand to the side to allow him entry anyway.

he breathes heavily when he makes it to the top, looking into your room and then at you through the glass. “i can come in?”

you give him a stupid look and lean on your hip, “no, i’ll push you and watch you fall and snap your neck.” you reach out and grab him by the collar to tug him in. “you can be so stupid, grimes.”

“stupid for you.” he attempts to wink but mentally face palms when he realizes that’s definitely not possible at this point. he makes a funny face at himself and you can’t help but smile, his poor attempt at being mr. smooth reminded you of that night.

then your mind drifts to how he’s ignoring it. and you’re back to mad again.

“what do you want?”

carl frowns at your tone, so you’re still mad, got it. “i want to make it up to you. besides the fact, you know, i’m still here and breathing.”

“that’s not the point carl.” you grunt as you sit on your bed, putting your revolver in your nightstand. carl sits next to you, looking at you expectantly for you to continue. a sigh leaves your lips and your head falls to look at your hands instead of him.

“you could have died.” carl opens his mouth to protest, but you’re quicker, placing a hand over his mouth. his shoulders fall dejectedly but he awaits your explanation nonetheless. “you’re being idiotic and careless and just an asshat like you were before.”

your hand slowly falls from his face and he looks at you with a glint of regret in his eye. “i just thought things would change after what you explained and confessed. i didn’t think you’d just act like nothing happened.”

he doesn’t know what to say, so his hand reaches out to grab yours when you smack it. he looks up to see your sad expression wiped away with an angered one. “and if you’d died without acting on whatever the hell that was, believe me grimes, i wouldn’t let you rest easy.” carl smiles at your returned sassy spark, the you that was so fun to toy with.

“okay then, rhee.” he grabs your hand, harsh enough to keep you from pulling away but not enough to hurt you. “catch me doing it again and you can take me out yourself.” you seem satisfied at that, causing carl to laugh at your antics.

“can i finally make it up to you now?” you quirk a brow at him, breath hitching at how close he was getting. “i’ve been wanting to kiss you, but i didn’t want to push anything.” so you do it for him, you close the gap between the two of you with a kiss slower than last time.

you pull away for a second and he chases your lips, leading you both to fall back on the mattress. “if you’re gonna make it up to me, you’re gonna do it right. we’re doing this how i want it. got it, cyclops?” he narrows his eye at you and tilts his head at the nickname, but doesn’t protest against your demands.

you slide your hand through his hair, gripping the tufts near his neck to pull his lips back to yours. he groans against your lips with every tug you make, his hips involuntarily grinding down onto yours.

you guide his right hand up to your waist and his left to your chest. he pulls away, a line of spit connecting your swollen lips. he looks down, finally realizing that all you have on is a sheer tank top and shorts. fitting for summer heat, but the lack of a bra surprises him more than it should.

he swallows thickly and feels his pants get uncomfortably tighter. the hand at your waist tugs your body closer to his while the other makes work on your nipples through your shirt. you can tell he’s inexperienced but so are you, the only thing giving it away is the confused look on his face and how needy he’s acting.

he shuts his eye tightly when you stop his movements and trail your hands down to his pants. you nod your head to the side and carl sits himself against your headboard, watching you intently. he’s breathing heavily again and his right hand comes up to cup your face.

if you were to look up you would see the adoration in his gaze, but your focus is trained on pleasing him instead. your minds are on polar opposite sides. you get his pants down and wrap your hand around him, causing him to suck in a breath through his teeth.

his hand goes to yours before you could even think about going further, “wait.” he pulls you closer to him, placing you on his lap. “i want to make it up to you.” you get the hint when he messily glides you over his cock. he shivers slightly at the contact but holds back as best as he can.

“what happened to this going my way?”

carl lets out a noise between a whine and a groan, “please.” and who are you to deny that?

“i’d like to see the protection you have then.” carl’s head falls back, knocking his hat off. he hadn’t planned things to go this far.

he throws an arm over his face, “where the hell was i supposed to get that?” you pat his cheek as a warning sign,

“don’t get snarky again. i don’t see mini rick and michonne’s running around. i’m sure you could’ve found something.” carl gives you a pointed glare, hinting at you to do the same. “i’m not going in my parent’s room, that’s a one way ticket to busted-town, grimes.”

carl huffs and pushes his sweaty hair away from his face. the comment you had made before about him being pretty, even now, has his face turning slightly pink. “i have an idea.” his hands find their way on your hips, and he looks to you for confirmation before he continues.

he guides you to get on your knees, your cunt hovering right over his dick. he takes two fingers and experimentally runs them through your folds, coating his fingers in your slick. he groans at how wet you are, trying to rack his brain for what to do next.

you giggle at him, watching the gears turn in his head. he smiles softly at you in return, sliding one of his fingers into you. he does his best at trying to keep his composure as he leads your hand to his cock, letting you take the reigns.

he curls his finger, eye searching your face for any hint of pain. your eyes meet his as you run your thumb over his slit, challenging him to keep eye contact. his mouth falls open and his movements are already getting messy. he leans in to kiss you, matching the ferocity from that night in the closet. teeth clashing and moans and heavy breaths mixing.

you feel his thumb on your clit, attempting to rub slow circles but he just can’t hold himself back. his movements echo yours, or what he wants you to give him. instead you’re being too slow for his liking, getting back at him for all his innocent teasing.

but it still gets him close, because he’s starving and it’s you. and he can tell by the way your thighs are shaking that you are too. he parts from your lips just enough to speak, “with me.” he’s so out of it, so breathless and entranced he can barely speak. “please.” you nod, speeding up your movements until his cock is twitching in your hand and making a mess of it and your sheets. though his lap isn’t much better, causing you to bury your head in his neck.

carl couldn’t help but laugh, you’ll never escape his antics if he gets this out of it.

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hungermakesmonsters · 8 hours

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(Once Bitten) Twice Shy

Chapter Four

Plot summary : Desperate to get away from your controlling family, you take a job in New York as a wealthy vampire's blood source. A million dollars awaits if you can make it through a year, but life with Billy Russo is not going to be as simple as you think.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R Chapter Rating : PG

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Nothing of note this chapter, except a moment of sickeningly awkward cuteness (I'm so sorry). All chapters will contain mentions of blood. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story.

Word Count : 4.8k

A/N : The aftermath of last chapter. Tumblr is still only letting me tag five people at a time, so tags will be in comments again.

CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO | CHAPTER THREE

Chapter Four

You woke to find yourself on the sofa, covered with a blanket, alone and with only a vague recollection of what had happened the night before. Your hand had been bandaged and you felt worse than ever. The room was spinning, your head pounding, and finally you understood why; blood loss. You’d drawn blood and, then, you’d let him drink from you; it had been too much and you’d lost consciousness.

It took a moment more for you to remember everything else that had happened; how he’d pressed his body to yours, how he’d kissed you, and how you’d - oh god, your boss had made you come.

Panic washed over you for a second, your hand reaching between your thighs, terrified that something had happened after you passed out. No. You breathed a sigh of relief and found yourself feeling silly for even thinking that Billy would do something like that. From what little you knew of him, you didn’t think he was capable of that.

Despite being completely alone, you pulled the blanket up, hiding your face and your embarrassment. You closed your eyes and all you could see was his face, blood covered lips and dark eyes filled with hunger - and not just hunger for blood.

You remembered his lips on your neck, the scrape of teeth - fangs - as you came. Gingerly, you ran your fingers over your skin, searching for puncture marks but, thankfully, found none.

As much as you wanted to move, to go back to your bedroom, you were too exhausted and, soon enough, you ended up falling asleep again.

Hours must have passed and you certainly felt better for it when you finally opened your eyes again.

At some point a bottle of water and a note had been left on the floor next to the sofa, though you couldn’t say if they’d been there the whole time or if he’d placed them there after you’d fallen asleep again.

You decided to start with the water, taking a slow drink to steady your nerves before reading the note. It was impossible to stop your mind from going into overdrive, from thinking of all the things that the note might contain; was he going to fire you for your unprofessional behaviour, was he angry that you broke the rule about being in the penthouse after 9pm?

Your fingers shook as you unfolded the note and started to read.

I want to apologise for my behaviour last night, it was unacceptable and I understand if you want to terminate your contract because of it. If you want to leave, please let Lissa know and she will retrieve your things from storage. If you choose to stay, you will have the next couple of days to yourself to recover. I’ll be gone until Friday and won’t need blood before then.

Whatever you decide, I’ve arranged for my friend Karen to visit you tomorrow and, if you still want to, you have permission to go out with her for the day. If you want to leave, she will help you with whatever you need to do so. Please take care of yourself.

Billy.

You read and reread the note, trying to figure out what he wanted from you. The note felt so detached, almost like he was assuming you’d want to leave.

(Did you? Was that really what you wanted?)

You read it again before sitting up, noticing the dried blood on your pyjamas. Common sense told you to leave, to get your things and get out of there as quickly as possible. Last night had been stupid and reckless, you’d done the one thing you’d promised yourself you’d never do; you’d let a vampire drink directly from you.

Okay, so he hadn’t bitten you, but what was to say that next time he wouldn’t? But, by the same logic, what was to say that he would? He could have done anything he wanted to you, but he hadn’t. And what he had done you’d allowed. No, you’d been an active participant. You’d enjoyed it. (Who were you trying to kid? You’d wanted it.) He’d told you to stay away and you’d ignored him. It had been your choice to feed him, your choice to let him kiss you, even though you knew he wasn’t in his right mind.

Embarrassed as you were, some part of you had wanted what had happened last night and, now, you had to live with the consequences.

You read the note one last time. Please take care of yourself, you weren’t sure if those five little words made it better or worse. He always seemed so concerned with how fragile you were, and you still weren’t sure if it came from a place of caring or of liability, but it felt like he was staying away from his own home because of you.

No, you quickly decided, you didn’t want to leave. You couldn’t. You needed the money and last night was as much your fault as Billy’s.

Staying was still far better than the alternative.

Eventually you managed to get up and move to your rooms, grabbing yourself a bowl of cereal on the way to bed. You put the TV on, but more for background noise than anything and spent the rest of the day dozing, only getting up to get more cereal.

Instead of thinking about what had happened, you started thinking about tomorrow, about finally being able to go outside and see some of New York City. What would his friend Karen be like? Would she be able to tell you anything about Billy? Finally, you had something to look forward to, even though you were worried that Billy had only arranged it out of guilt.

You felt much better the next day when you woke up, in part because you were excited to finally go outside and see some of the city but, also, because you were looking forward to meeting Billy’s friend and having someone new to talk to. The weather outside looked cold and wet, so you dressed accordingly, pulling a lovely blue jacket and pair of boots from your wardrobe to put on over your jeans and blouse.

Just before midday, you heard someone calling your name, and you quickly went out to greet them. She had stunning red hair and skin so pale you might have thought she was a vampire if you weren’t about to go out in daylight with her. It was enough to make you pause, to make you wonder how she knew Billy, an odd twinge of jealousy filling you for a second.

“Hi, I’m Karen,” she smiled and held out her hand. You took it and introduced yourself properly, even though she already knew your name. “Oh, what happened to your hand?”

Your cheeks warmed a fraction, looking down at your bandaged hand for a second. “I caught it taking some cookies out of the oven.”

“Ouch,” Karen winced sympathetically, seeming to buy the lie. “Billy said you wanted to go for coffee?”

“Yeah, that’d be great,” you answered, feeling overcome with relief the moment you stepped into the elevator.

“You got any place in mind?” Karen asked, subtly looking you up and down like she was trying to get a measure of you.

“I - I don’t know. This is my first time in New York, I don’t really know where anything is.”

“And this is the first time he’s let you outside,” she stated.

For a second you looked at her, confused, wondering how much she knew, how much she was supposed to know. Lissa had told you that Billy valued his privacy and you weren’t sure what you were supposed to say in this situation. The uncomfortable look on your face must have been enough to tip Karen off that you didn’t know how to answer.

“He has his reasons,” she started again as the elevator arrived on the ground floor and you stepped out, “I know it probably doesn’t seem like it right now, but he is trying to look out for you.”

“How do you know him?” You asked.

“I met him through his best friend when we started dating.”

“Oh. And is he...?” You left the question unfinished, not sure if it was polite to ask.

“A vampire?” She smiled the sort of carefree smile that you couldn’t help feel envious of, like she didn’t care what anyone thought of her. “Yes, he is.”

Stepping out onto the street, you couldn’t help but stop for a moment, turning your eyes skyward and taking a deep breath. It took a second for your eyes to get used to natural light and, all the while, Karen stood watching you.

“How long has it been?” Her question pulled you back to the moment.

“A couple of weeks, I think?” You tried to remember, but you’d lost track of how long exactly it had been after the first week. However long it had been, it wasn’t really long enough to warrant that sort of reaction from you. Your cheeks warmed a fraction as you looked at Karen. “I’m not really used to being cooped up indoors all the time.”

Karen just nodded, waiting a beat before starting to walk. You fell into step beside her, your eyes taking in the sights of New York. You had no idea where she was leading you but you didn’t care. You were finally seeing the city and you couldn’t be happier.

Less than five minutes later, you found yourself in a little coffee shop, looking at the pastries and cakes on offer before you realised something.

“I don’t have any money,” you told Karen, your cheeks turning red, an uncomfortable sense of shame filling you.

It hadn’t even crossed your mind; you always had a purse with you or your phone, but Lissa had taken them and you weren’t going to be paid until you’d completed a year in Mr Russo’s service.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” Karen replied, starting to fumble around with her purse before pulling out a black credit card and handing it to you. “Billy asked me to give you this for anything you need.”

The card had your name embossed on it but there was nothing else to indicate - well, anything at all. You didn’t know if it was a prepaid card or if it had a limit, and there was no way of telling where the money would be coming from.

“The PIN is your birth year,” Karen continued, though she seemed more interested in eyeing the food selection than she was in you.

After a moment more, you decided that you’d ask Billy about it when you next saw him (assuming you ever saw him again, after the other night). You choose modestly, not wanting to spend too much on a card that wasn’t yours and that you couldn’t control. For all you knew, you were spending Billy’s money and the last thing you wanted to do was take advantage of this gesture of kindness.

And that was something Karen did notice, watching you from the corner of her eye with a somewhat bemused expression on her face as you calculated just how much money you’d be spending getting a drink, a panini, and a muffin. Then, you held your breath as you used the card for the first time, preparing yourself for the embarrassment of it being declined. It wasn’t. You breathed a sigh of relief before following Karen to a little table by the window.

Your eyes were fixed on the street outside, watching as it started to rain, but you could feel her eyes on you.

“You’re not like the others,” she finally broke the silence.

“What were they like?” You asked with a healthy degree of caution, still not knowing what the rules were and what you were allowed to talk to her about. “Lissa said that they disappointed Mr Russo?”

She sat back, biting her lip and trying to suppress a smile. You couldn’t tell what part of it she found amusing and you didn’t want to ask.

“Disappointed is one word for it, I guess?” she took a breath, obviously composing her thoughts before continuing. “Did you know that you’re the first one he didn’t interview himself?”

You shook your head; you’d applied for the job by email and had spoken to someone (you now assumed to be Lissa) very briefly over the phone. In retrospect, it seemed strange given the amount of money that was at stake.

Unless he didn’t bother because he assumed you’d disappoint him like the others…

“The problem with Billy - with the whole job, really - is that it usually attracts a... certain sort of person. Most of them have only been interested in the money and spending a year living in the lap of luxury. The others are...” she fell silent, smiling as the barista brought your toasted paninis over and, when you were alone again, she looked like she really didn’t want to finish her thought.

“The others are...?” You prompted cautiously.

“They’re the sort of people who want more from the arrangement than Billy is prepared to give,” she answered and, when you obviously didn’t catch her meaning, she continued. “Billy is a very rich man and he’s going to live forever. A lot of people find both of those prospects very attractive.”

“They want him to...” you couldn’t bring yourself to say the words, a lump stuck in your throat at the thought. Karen nodded. “And you’ve done this before? Gone for coffee with... someone like me?”

“Not quite like this, but I did spend time with some of them.”

“What do you mean not quite like this?”

She paused half way through lifting her cup to her lips and, for a second you could have sworn she winced. Still, she took a drink and didn’t try to answer until her mug was back on the table again.

“His rules weren’t always so strict.” Her head shook. “Look, it’s not my place to tell you any of this. Billy has his reasons for why things are the way they are; it’s to protect you as much as it’s to protect him.”

You opened your mouth to ask more questions but no words came out. Ultimately, it didn’t matter how or why the rules had changed because you’d agreed to them. You’d agreed to the job and you needed the money, so the last thing you wanted to do was get Karen in trouble and maybe jeopardise future outings like this.

“Thank you,” you told her, then quickly clarified; “for telling me.”

Karen smiled, considering her words for a moment. “Billy is a friend, but trust me when I tell you that if I didn’t believe what he was doing was necessary, I would have told him so.”

“It’s okay,” you conceded quietly, shrugging, “I knew what I was getting into when I agreed to do this.”

You turned your attention to your food, cautiously picking up your panini, trying not to burn yourself on the molten cheese that was leaking out the side as you took a bite. It was heavenly; toasted just the right amount, the cheese was sharp, and the tuna -

You dropped the panini back to your plate, horrified with yourself.

No. No-no-no. How could you have been so stupid? You felt your chest tighten a fraction, your stomach tying itself in knots.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Karen asked, obviously concerned.

“Tuna,” you stated, your voice breaking. “I’m not supposed to eat tuna. It’s on the list. He’s going to -”

“Whoa-whoa, back up. What list?”

“The list of things I’m not supposed to eat,” you tried to explain, unable to conceal the panic from your voice.

This wasn’t you - you didn’t break rules, you always tried to stay in line - and, now, you’d messed up. All you could think was that you were going to lose the job, that Billy would kick you out and you’d have no choice but to go home. You were going to end up back where you started all because of a stupid toasted sandwich.

“Hey-hey, calm down, it’s okay,” Karen tried to settle you.

“You don’t understand I can’t lose this job.”

“You won’t,” she reached across the table, taking your hand in hers, “if Billy finds out, we’ll tell him it was my fault, okay?”

“But -”

“No, buts. Nothing bad is going to happen, I promise.”

You didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to explain the panic that was clawing beneath your ribs. You’d been raised to be good, to be decent, to follow the rules and not cause problems. You’d been raised to fear consequences and, even though you were far from home, that mindset was difficult to escape.

“Here,” she offered, sliding her plate towards you, “we can swap, I got ham and cheese. You only had one bite, Billy will never know.”

It was like she understood, like she could tell just by looking at you how desperately you needed to keep the job - not just because of the money on offer but because you had nothing and nowhere else to go without it.

Taking the offered plate, you ate slowly, quietly. From time to time, you’d catch her looking at you, concern on her face. Conversation that followed was stilted and awkward as you picked apart your muffin until it was gone. And, once your mug was empty, the outing was over.

“I’m sorry I can’t stay longer,” she apologised as you started back towards the penthouse. “I’ll make more time next week; we can spend a whole afternoon doing whatever you want. We’ll make it a regular thing, every Thursday.”

Agreeing, you thanked her as she rode the elevator back up to the penthouse with you, making sure you were okay before leaving you with the promise of seeing you again next week.

It was strange to know that you were completely alone in the penthouse for another day but, after the incident with the panini, you were very deliberate when it came to the rules. You sat on the sofa until just before 9pm, watching the cloudy sky slowly darken and give way to night before returning to your rooms, even though no one would have known if you’d stayed in the penthouse longer.

That night you laid in bed thinking about Billy - or, rather, you thought about what it was going to be like to see him again after what had happened. Was he as embarrassed by it all as you were? Did Billy Russo even get embarrassed? Maybe it would be better for the both of you if you just pretended that it never happened.

Friday passed in a blur. Every time you heard a noise in the penthouse, you would creep to the door to your quarters and press your ear against it, trying to hear if he was back. Of course, some part of you understood how ridiculous you were being; Billy was so light on his feet that you’d never be able to hear him. But, still, time and time again you found yourself pressed against the door.

After drawing blood, you moved across the penthouse as quietly as you could, looking for signs that he was home and finding none. Once you reached the kitchen and placed the blood in the fridge, you allowed yourself a sigh of relief before turning and -

There he was.

Standing between you and your rooms, a look on his face that you couldn’t decipher.

For a second your lips parted, wanting to say something, but the words just wouldn’t come. Your cheeks started to warm and the silence dragged on for at least ten seconds. Billy looked uncertain, so uncomfortable in your presence. His normally calm and collected demeanour was gone, replaced with a look that made you feel unsettled, guilty even. More than that, you couldn’t help but notice how tired he looked - you hadn’t even realised that vampires could look tired before now.

“You decided to stay,” part-statement, part-question. All you could do was nod, letting your feet carry you a couple of steps closer to him. “I’m glad. I didn’t think you would.”

“I want to stay,” you offered quietly, breathing slowly, trying to keep your heart from racing.

“I’m sorry for the other night. I never wanted you to see me like that,” he said, standing a little taller and seeming to regain some of his usual composure. “It won’t happen again. I never wanted to make you feel unsafe here.”

“You didn’t,” your voice still small as you struggled to find a way to describe any of the things you were feeling right now. “You told me to stay away and I didn’t listen, and I didn’t ask you to stop when I should have. But I just...” you trailed off, not sure how to say the next part.

“What?” He prompted softly, his attention entirely fixed on you.

“I need to make it clear; just because you’re paying me, it doesn’t mean you’re entitled to -”

“I would never think that I’m entitled to fuck you just because I’m paying you,” he interrupted, just as offended by the notion as you were. “Anything that happens here only happens with your consent.”

Did that mean it could happen again if you wanted it to? You didn’t dare voice the question, instead you just nodded.

His gaze dropped awkwardly and yours followed it, noticing something tightly gripped in his hands. A stuffed toy. Before you could ask, Billy had cleared the distance between you, holding out the toy to you. After a moment of confused hesitation, you took it, frowning first at the toy then him.

“When you said you were lonely, you mentioned a dog and I -” he let out an uncomfortable huff of laughter, “- well, obviously I can’t let you have a real dog here but I thought - I hoped - maybe this would help.”

Your gaze dropped to the stuffed toy in your hand, shaped like a beagle with floppy ears and a little pink tongue lolling out of its mouth. You couldn’t remember the last time someone had bought you such a thoughtful gift and that sad thought caused your heart to give an uncomfortable squeeze. When you looked back to Billy, you started to realise that there was far more to the man than you’d originally believed.

“I didn’t know what kind of dog you had, so I just...” he continued, trailing off when he saw your smile.

“Thank you. It’s perfect.”

It was Billy’s turn to simply nod, seeming just as lost for words as you were for a few seconds before deciding to let you go about your evening. “Anyway, I won’t keep you.”

The conversation was over giving you the perfect opportunity to walk away and recover from whatever this had been, only -

“I broke one of the rules,” you blurted out without thinking, not wanting to carry the weight of it after Billy’s gesture.

A flicker of discomfort crossed his face but was quickly reined in. “Which one?”

“I ate tuna in a panini when I went out with Karen,” you stated, sounding so ashamed anyone would have thought you were confessing to murder. “It was just one bite. I forgot tuna was on the list. I’m so sorry. It won’t happen again, Mr Russo. I promise.”

You didn’t expect the laugh that followed, or the way the tension seemed to leave his body. His hand found your shoulder, offering a reassuring squeeze.

“It’s okay, it doesn’t matter.”

“But the list -”

“Tuna is on the list because I don’t like it. If I’d been here and had your blood, it would have been unpleasant for me, but I wasn’t here so I’m willing to forgive it.”

(Well, that explained why certain foods were on the list. They were things he didn’t like - did that mean he could tell what you’d been eating from your blood?)

“I spent twenty dollars,” you admitted a moment later, like you were confessing all of your sins to him. (Or maybe you just wanted to keep the conversation going a little while longer, keep his hand on you a little longer.)

His hand moved to your neck, his cold touch on your skin causing your heart to beat a little faster. And you knew he could tell, you knew he could hear the effect he was having on you.

“You spent eighteen dollars fifty-five,” he told you, amused by whatever this was. “I don’t think you’re going to bankrupt me.” When his little joke didn’t manage to draw a smile from you, Billy sighed. “I’m the one that should be sorry. I haven’t really explained things to you, I guess because I didn’t think you’d even make it past the second week.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m asking a lot of you. Maybe too much,” he told you as his thumb began to softly brush against your jaw. “The truth is, I need things to be like this. I need to have control. I need to stay in control because when I don’t...”

He didn’t have to say it, you could fill in the blanks. The other night was what happened when Billy lost control, it was what happened when the monster overwhelmed the man.

“But,” he continued, “I know it’s not easy to be the person who’s being controlled. I know you don’t really want this.”

“No, I -” the words started to slip out before you could stop them. Billy looked at you expectantly, silently demanding you finish the thought. Your cheeks felt like they were burning, but he was giving you honesty and you needed to do the same in return. “I’m used to rules. I like knowing what’s expected of me. It doesn’t make things easier for me, but I like knowing where I stand. So, I guess I don’t mind following your rules.”

It was clear he had questions but clearer still that he didn’t want to ask them. You were grateful for that.

“You always have a choice here, little hummingbird, even if I sometimes make it seem like you don’t,” he told you, leaving his hand to linger on your neck a moment more before it dropped to his side. Somehow, you felt colder for the loss of his icy touch. He was quiet a moment before; “do you like Thai food?”

You nodded despite the very sudden change in conversation. “I love it.”

“I’ve got nothing planned this weekend, perhaps we could spend some time getting to know each other a little better? Maybe that would make things a little easier,” he offered, a small smile on his lips. “We could order from a great Thai place I know and I could try to answer some of your questions about things.”

Your fingers tightened on the stuffed toy as you smiled. Finally, you felt like you were getting somewhere, like this could become something bearable, something good.

“I’d like that,” you answered.

“Okay then, tomorrow evening at sunset,” he nodded and looked ready to leave.

Nodding in return, you finally stated to move back towards your rooms. Your hand was on the handle when he spoke again.

“Why did you help me?” You could tell from his tone that he didn’t want to ask the question, but the curiosity had gotten the better of him. “You didn’t have to help, you could’ve stayed in your rooms. Instead you put yourself in danger to help me. Why?”

You turned back, despite not knowing how to answer him. And, for a few seconds you found yourself looking at him. There was something there, something about his expression, something that made you wonder if anyone else had ever helped him before. It seemed like such an alien concept to him that anyone might go out of their way to do anything for him.

“You looked like you were in pain,” you shrugged, “and, even though I haven’t always felt completely comfortable here, I think you’ve always tried to be kind... in your own way. So, I couldn’t just stand by when I thought there was a chance I could help you.”

Billy swallowed, like he was trying to rid himself of a lump in his throat. Then he nodded, clearly lost for words. That look you’d noticed only seconds before seemed to intensify and Billy didn’t seem to know what to do with it.

“Thank you,” he finally managed, before giving you one last look and turning away.

For a second you allowed yourself to watch him as he made his way towards the kitchen but you knew you couldn’t linger, not when the pounding of your heart gave you away. Slipping through the door, you quickly shut it behind you, pressing your back against it for a moment. Looking down, you realised that you had the stuffed dog clutched to your chest. It was silly, such a ridiculous gift, but the fact that he’d listened to you, the fact that he’d thought about what you’d told him, it meant so much.

End Note : Billy was having a Mr Darcy (Matthew Macfadyen version) moment when he handed over the stuffed toy. Place your bets on what she’s going to to call it. I know this one was slow and a little cutesy but I wanted to build some more tension before things start to ramp up next chapter.

As always thank you so much for reading! And thank you so much to all my new followers (I did not expect 200+ followers when I started posting on tumblr). I hope you all have awesome weekends!!

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters! If tagging doesn't work for some reason (aka Tumblr being dumb) I post most Fridays around 7:30 gmt. (Note: Tumblr is currently being stupid and only letting me tag five people at a time, so I'll be tagging people in the comments. Sorry if you get tagged twice!!)

Tag List : @vaguekayla @thdcre @rensolodriver @house-husband-of-castlemurdock @snowkestrel @danzer8705 @noortsshift @aoi-targaryen @lincerad @vxnity713 @readerinsertsaremyguiltypleasure @dreadfulxives18 @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @glamourbabe17 @sweetserendipity65 @damagelove @strangerfromketterdam @a-starrynightwith-u @readingabouthim @countryday @weepingwitchofthewest

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo x female reader #billy russo fanfic #the punisher #billy russo imagine #(ob)ts ff

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varpusvaras · 3 days

Text

Prequel/sequel to the Modern AU post I made yesterday: Bail, any given morning: Here I go again, going to work...with the ugly horrible stairs

Breha: Dear, can you give constructive criticism of the stairs for once? I thought you went to art school

Bail: Yes, when I was 12. I don't remember much of what they taught me there, but of one thing I am certain: those stairs are not art

Breha: Alright. Whatever you say, honey. But I am banning you from talking about the stairs until you can give me something new

Six hours later

Bail, on the phone: Love, I have found another point of view on the stairs. We have a dinner date at eight. Wear something nice

Breha: .....I didn't know we needed to take the stairs for a date

Bail: No, we're taking the man who is trying to make the stairs less horrible for a date. I promise you, it's going to be so nice!

At eight that night

Breha, looking at the very beautiful man her husband has brought into the restaurant with them: So, you're trying to make the stairs look better?

Fox, forgetting all of his social anxieties in an instant: Yes. Now I am legally being prevented from actually making them proper stairs, because they represent the "alternative progressive movement of the 1930's that worked as a precursor to Modern and Expressionist movements of the field while still encapsulating the trends of the late 1800s", which is, in my honest opinion, just a nice way of saying that the stairs look like a spiraling fire exit with some rather dated embellishments that are just empty copies of earlier styles with no deeper understanding of what actually made any of it work, and merely mimic previous artworks without any coherency, with the sole goal of looking extravagant

Breha, kicking Bail under the table because he looks too smug: Do you want wine and dessert as well?

That night, in bed

Bail: By the way, he also threw a man while holding a clipboard

Breha: I'm booking us a visit to the jeweler tomorrow. We cannot not marry him

#Breha: finally! a man who complains with examples!#Bail does not mind that because he also loves a man who complains with examples #sw #tcw #commander fox #bail organa #breha organa #bail/breha/fox #Modern AU

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zukosdualdao · 2 days

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when told to think of what he fears by the guru, aang first remembers zuko’s stint as the blue spirit/when he crossed his swords against aang’s throat so zhao would let them go. i mean, of course i’m sure that would be scary on its own regardless, even if someone is ostensibly doing it to help you leave.

but the fact that he could have remembered zuko in any of their conflicts but remembers him as the blue spirit is interesting. because zuko’s first appearance as the blue spirit shows how someone can do something ‘good’ for the wrong reasons, and at first glance, this isn’t conducive to zuko’s redemption. and indeed, it’s not him doing something noble—but it is one of our first appearances of the thematic idea of morality not being quite so black and white, and of people having the capacity for both good and bad actions, whatever their reasons may be. and that is ultimately a stepping stone to the thematic idea of growth and redemption.

and to be clear, i don’t think that’s the part that scares aang. he wants to believe the best in people, and that’s what makes him muse to zuko whether they once could have been friends, even as he’s fully prepared to take flight when zuko throws his fire.

i think the part that is scarier to him is the idea that people have that capacity to be more than what you expect from them, but will still surrender to their “lowest instincts”, as iroh says in book two, anyway. the idea that no one is truly born evil—as we’ll hear again in book three—but is instead the result of their experiences and chosen actions can be comforting, but it can also be disheartening. because if no one is born evil, then why do people make those kinds of choices at all???

it’s interesting, because i think it shows a degree of… naïveté might not be the right word, but i think this idea of moral ambiguity is frustrating for aang and not something he can fully wrap his head around. and things we can’t make sense of are scary.

#atla #the guru #aang #zuko #the blue spirit #we as the audience have the context of knowing why zuko is making the choices he’s making #and even though we know it’s not right we have sympathy for it #but aang doesn’t have that context so he’s just going ????? ‘why are you acting this way when you could do Good Things For Good Reasons’#aang & zuko #atla rewatch ‘24

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dasinclair · 3 days

Note

I see you ship Cecil/Debbie…

Any head cannons for them?

yes of course

so... i do think they're sort of "doomed in every universe" in that they can never really be together and they know that. debbie deserves better and they both know that. maybe they're a little afraid of the idea that they could be happy. they know what they're feeling but can't ever say it

HOWEVER debbie and cecil are very, very good at reading each other. they can have entire conversations through eye movement alone

cecil greatly admires debbie's strength and he also sees a bit of himself in her, especially after nolan's betrayal. he knows what it's like to carry so much pain that you deny yourself happiness and he just wants to take some of that burden off her

also she is of course the most beautiful woman he has ever seen in his life. but he tries not to think about that

debbie telling cecil she's always hated him isn't quite true. she HAS been deeply conflicted about him for a long time, yes. but she was (rightfully) angry, and she knew saying that would hurt him, and she can be a little vindictive when she wants to be

...and that's something cecil likes about her. not a lot of things can affect him like she does. she isn't afraid of saying whatever she wants to him, often things he needs to hear. kinda makes him feel like a human being again

for debbie's part, she knows cecil will stand by her even when she lashes out like she sometimes feels the need to do. he won't judge her even in her most desperate moments of weakness. it feels good to have that

debbie was warmer towards cecil early on because she was genuinely curious about him and his line of work. i think she'd actually be interested in the bureaucratic aspects of superheroism

the first time cecil had dinner with the graysons (debbie's invitation) he was very awkward and stiff and overly professional. debbie picked up on this and did her best to make him feel comfortable. that stuck in his mind, and he tries to do the same for her still

cecil will remember the smallest personal gesture for a long time. he has a lot of things to keep track of, and he can't afford to be sentimental, but... maybe he's a little less efficient when he's around debbie

making her laugh is his favorite thing. the times it's happened it was usually something he said that he didn't even realize was funny, but he can't help but smile when she does

they take smoke breaks together and light each other's cigarettes. old habits die hard and they both understand. he jokingly offers to let her put hers out on him, and after a particularly rough day she might

cecil once told nolan something along the lines of "you're a lucky man" and then backpedaled as fast as humanly possible as soon as nolan raised an eyebrow

multiverse bonus

in every dimension where debbie aligns herself with nolan, cecil comes to her personally in the hopes that she can be reasoned with and she'll let the gda keep her safe. in at least one of those universes, debbie takes advantage of this to kill him herself <3

there's also a few dimensions where they've died in each other's arms. these are probably the only ones where they can bring themselves to outright say they love each other, because at that point not a lot else matters

#dedman #cecil x debbie #debbie grayson #cecil stedman #smoking tw

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annwrites · 8 hours

Text

exactly what he needs, pt. 6 ♡ ⋆｡˚ | other parts here

— pairing: nate jacobs x fem!reader

— type: ficlet (multi-chapter)

— summary: nate brings you breakfast to help w/ your hangover & then you have your first time.

— tags: breakfast in bed, looking around nate’s room like he did w/ yours, admitting your feelings for one another, & then making love

— tw: eating, lying, major manipulative move on nate’s part, sex

— word count: 4,577

— a/n: me while writing this: i’m simultaneously turned-on, & also feel like maddy: ooh, he is such a cunt!

i know this installment is a bit shorter than the previous few, but i felt like what happens this chapter needed its own post.

i messed up a few posts ago when i put that the writing on the back of the pic that nate stole said ‘05. he was born in 2001. so, they, for one, wouldn’t have been in kindergarten yet, and, for two, wouldn’t have been 7-8 yrs old. i was thinking about myself, who was born in ‘98 when doing that math. please ignore lol.

GIF by bakerolivia

When you wake, your headache has dissipated marginally. Nate’s strong, warm body is still wound around yours, and the TV against the wall is on low volume, some action movie playing.

You squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, wishing you could remember the events of last night.

You’d had strange dreams. You’d been in the bathroom with Cassie again, and had woken with a jolt at one point at the sound of something shattering, someone trying to beat down the door, screaming your name. You’d felt trapped in there, you and Cassie staring at each other in terror. Only when the door opened did you hear the sound of glass breaking and wake.

You’d fallen back asleep again after that and had dreams of you and Nate in the pool. You’d been naked—skinny dipping—and only when you had lifted your head from his shoulder to look at him, did his features shift into something menacing—something terrifying—and he shoved your head under the water.

You were drowning.

Suffocating.

You couldn’t breathe.

You’d woken again, heart pounding, but relaxed at the feeling of his arms around you, knowing you were safe.

You told yourself the bad dreams were just a result of the alcohol. Nothing more.

You slowly sit up, Nate’s hand sliding down your side, onto your bare thigh. He sits up with you, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Morning, angel.”

You press a small kiss to his nose, making him smile before you get up, padding into the bathroom, softly shutting the door behind you.

Once you’ve relieved yourself, you hear a light knock on the door. “Are you okay, do you need my help?”

“No, thank you. I just need a few minutes.”

He hesitates for a moment before finally stepping away.

Once you’ve showered, brushed your teeth—thoroughly—and ripped through the tangles in your hair, do you emerge from his bathroom with a towel wrapped around you.

You find him lying back on the bed, eyes now on you, watching as you select a plain gray t-shirt from his closet, sliding it onto your torso.

You then walk over to the bed, climbing into his lap, resting your head against his shoulder while he holds you.

“How do you feel?” He asks, lips against your hair.

You shrug. “A little better.”

He slips one of his hands under the shirt, rubbing up and down against your bare back. “Are you hungry?”

You groan. “I don’t know if eating is a good idea.”

He chuckles. “It’ll help soak up whatever alcohol is left in your system. And your stomach is on empty right now.”

He gently moves you off of him, deciding for you.

“Just stay up here and relax.” He hands you the TV remote. “You can watch whatever you like. I’ll go make you something to eat.”

He pulls on a pair of shorts and a white t-shirt before stepping over to the door. He turns back to you after opening it. “Any special requests?”

You shake your head. “Whatever you want to make is fine. Thank you,” you say with a sweet smile.

He nods, heading downstairs.

You lie back on his bed, opening Netflix to find something more preferable to your tastes to watch.

When Nate enters the kitchen, his mom is just heading in from outside, hair tied back as she removes her gardening hat, tossing it onto the kitchen island.

“Someone is a late riser today.”

He walks over to the fridge, pulling out a bottle of Powerade. “Y/N is.” He seats himself at the island, unscrewing the lid. “Hungover.”

Her eyes widen. “Getting her drunk already, sweetie? Or is that just the way she is?”

She hopes not. She’d thought her a good girl.

He rolls his eyes, taking a drink. “I fucked up. Took her to a party last night that someone like her had no business being at in the first place.”

She feels relieved to hear it.

She pulls the Britta out of the fridge, retrieving a glass and pouring. “Trying to corrupt her already, huh?”

He slams his bottle down. “Jesus fucking Christ, why am I always the villain?”

She puts the Britta away, raising her hands. “Jeez, sorry, don’t bite my head off. Just trying to joke with you.”

She takes a sip of her water. “Has she eaten yet?”

He shakes his head.

“Would you like for me to make her some lunch?”

He leans forward, forearms resting on the countertop. “I’d appreciate it.”

She turns around, retrieving a pan. “How does grilled cheese and tomato soup sound? Would she like that, or should I make something else?”

“That’s fine.”

Once Marsha has retrieved the required cookware and ingredients, she turns her back to him, facing the stove. “So, I know I’m about to be a mom, but bear with me.” She’s quiet for a moment and Nate braces himself for whatever nonsense might be about to come out of her mouth. “I know it’s still a little early, but: do you have feelings for her?”

He takes another drink. “Yes.”

She nods. “And does she have feelings for you?”

He thinks about how you’d had your naked body pressed to his all night for comfort and security. About the way you look at and touch him. “Yes.”

She smiles to herself.

“I don’t want you to think that I was eavesdropping, because I wasn’t,” his back immediately stiffens. “But I heard the two of you in the kitchen yesterday morning. The things she said to you.”

She stirs the tomato soup, glancing to him over her shoulder. “I really, really like this one, Nate. She’s good for you. I know I once said that I liked Cassie, too. But that was before I heard her ranting and raving in your room one night screaming about how crazy she is. Y/N seems…different. Mature, sweet, good-hearted, even…” She trails off for a moment. “Unless she turns out to be insane, too. I mean, clearly I know how to pick ‘em.”

She briefly wonders if he inherited his poor taste in romantic partners from her. Not that Cal is all bad. But sometimes…sometimes when she looks at him all she sees is a stranger.

Not the man she had once adored with her entire heart. Not the man who she sometimes spent entire weekends in her bed with as a teenager. Not the man she had married.

Not the man who she had made two children with.

“She’s nothing like Cassie. Honestly, she’s unlike anyone I’ve ever met.” He looks at the back of her head. “You do realize I’ve known her since kindergarten, right?”

Her brows furrow. “Really?”

“Mhm. We were just never really friends before now.”

She slides the sandwich onto a plate, then dumps the soup into a bowl.

“What changed?” She asks, retrieving a spoon and a napkin, setting it all onto a small portable tray, sliding it in front of him.

“I finally realized what I needed, instead of what I thought I wanted.”

When Nate returns to his room, you’re lying on the bed, pillow bunched up underneath your head, arms wrapped around it. Your left leg is bent far enough up that your pussy is on full display for him; your right leg stretched out straight as you watch the TV with interest. Some fantasy movie, of course, playing.

He kicks the door shut behind him and you sit up then, taking the tray from him once he’s at the side of the bed, with an appreciative smile.

He pushes some hair from your face with his hand, pressing a firm kiss to your forehead. “Just try not to get anything on the bed.”

You nod. “I won’t.”

He never eats in bed himself, the thought of rolling around in crumbs makes his skin crawl.

Before you take a bite of your sandwich, you look up to him. “Did…did you make this?”

He nods. “I’ve never cooked for anyone else before today.”

You feel warmth bloom in your chest at that. You smile shyly. “Between this and letting me drive your truck I’m starting to feel like a special exception.”

That’s the reason I did it, he thinks. He looks at you with a smile. “You are, baby.”

As you eat, Nate picks up his room, throwing your laundry and his both into his hamper, straightening up here and there, even if his room stays organized enough that it’s not really needed. But he hates any sort of disorderliness.

It was one of the first things he came to appreciate about you when it came to seeing your house: everything was clean and tidy and in its place.

He hates slovenly people.

Finally, he sits in his computer chair, leaning back, watching as you eat.

You take small bites, sipping at your soup, occasionally taking a drink of water.

“How is it?” He asks.

You nod, swallow, then reply. “Really good. It’s one of my favorites, actually. Thank you.”

He smiles. “You’re welcome. I just feel like shit for letting you get so loaded.”

You shake your head. “It’s not your fault. Don’t worry: I never plan to drink ever again,” you say with a small laugh.

He smirks. “That’s what we all say until the opportunity inevitably presents itself again.”

You take another sip of your soup, licking your lips. “Not me.”

Once you’ve finished eating, you stand, picking up the tray from his bed and heading to the door.

He stands as well. “I can get that.”

You smile. “It’s okay.” You shift from one foot to the other. “I was actually thinking… Since you’ve gone through my room, and I haven’t really looked around yours very much,” not that there seems to be much to it in terms of personalization to begin with, you think. “Maybe I can browse a bit when I come back up?”

Just the fucking opportunity I need, he thinks with excitement. “Yeah, sure.”

You head downstairs and he panickedly looks around his room. “Fuck, fuck where is it? Where the fuck did I put it?”

He throws himself on the floor, looking under his bed, which is spotless.

He stands, ready to pull his goddamn hair out from frustration, until his head jerks toward his hamper, which hasn’t been emptied in awhile. How the fuck could he have forgotten to take it out?

He digs through the dirty laundry, until he’s nearly reached the bottom and he wrenches out a pair of jeans, digging through all the pockets, until he finally finds it in the last one he looks in.

He quickly walks over to his desk, grabbing a roll of scotch tape and sticking the object to his bedroom mirror.

He then sits down, heart hammering, and he waits.

When you come back upstairs, you’re grateful no one had seen you wandering down to the kitchen in just one of Nate’s t-shirts…again.

You shut the door behind you and wander over to his bench press first, looking at the weights. You look back to him then, where he’s now sitting on the edge of his bed, watching you intently. “How many pounds do you normally lift?”

He nods toward the barbell. “That one is two-hundred and twenty pounds.”

You flush, liking that response. So strong, you think.

You sit down on it and position your legs under the leg lift and try to push…and fail miserably.

He looks at you with an amused smirk. “Having trouble?”

You push again and then promptly give up. If anything, it just makes heat pool between your legs when you think of how easy it had been for him to do it.

You stand then. “I was just warming up.”

He chuckles.

You walk over to his desktop setup. “Do you ever play games?”

Not that kind, he thinks. “Not really. I mostly use it for schoolwork.”

You nod, refraining from going through the cabinets to the side.

You then look at his fancy stereo system, then the basket beside it, which houses a couple footballs and a basketball.

You glance at the storage at the foot of his bed, which is full of Nikes, then come to stand in front of his dresser and look at him over your shoulder with a raised brow before opening the top drawer.

He smirks, watching you imitate how he looked through your top drawer yesterday.

And you find nothing of interest, just some boxers, briefs, socks, and some wife-beaters. You shut the drawer then.

You look at the picture of the F-16, which hangs behind his bed. “Is being a pilot something you sometimes think about?”

“My mom is the one who decorated in here.”

Explains the monogrammed pillows, you think.

Besides the photo and a jersey which hangs on the wall, you finally realize just how minimalist and non-personal his room really is. You wonder why there’s no knick-knacks or décor of any kind. Then again, he seems to be a bit of a neat-freak, and sometimes despising clutter comes with the territory.

You look at the mirror against the wall and your brows furrow.

You step over to it, pulling at the Polaroid stuck to it, taking a closer look.

And your heart stops.

The one personal thing he does have—the only thing—is a photo of the two of you from when you were little.

Tears sting your eyes. “Where…where did you get this?” You ask in a whisper.

“Found it a few months ago in a box of old stuff I had. Decided to hang it up. Honestly, I wasn’t even sure why I did. Just…I just like looking at it for some reason.”

You look at him.

“Maddy fucking hated it. Cassie acted jealous, even if we were only a few years old in it and we weren’t even talking at the time when she and I were…doing whatever the fuck we were doing.”

You look back down to the picture, turning it over, looking at the writing on the back, then looking at the picture again.

“Do…do you remember that day?”

He stays silent, hoping to fucking God if he does, you’ll continue, and give him some clue as to when it was taken exactly. So he can try and fill in blanks to pretend like it’s a day he could never forget.

You look at him.

“You do, too?” He asks.

You nod, looking at it. “It was the last day of kindergarten. And my birthday. My…” You swallow, throat tightening. “The bear on my bed was your gift to me.”

Nate’s jaw drops, just slightly. He didn’t remember any of it. And he’s sure the gift was most-likely selected by his mom, but it was the fact you’d kept it—something that had come from him so long ago—it meant…he’s not sure what it means. Just that whatever it is: it means a lot of it.

“I wasn’t sure if it looked familiar or not.”

You let out a teary laugh.

“The cake was good, though.” He adds, hoping there was a fucking cake.

“Ice cream. We got so messy.”

“Vanilla, right?”

Your heart melts that he remembers. “Yes.”

“Do you remember that we fed some to each other? Well, kind of shoved it in each other’s faces. After your mom cleaned us up, my dad took this picture.”

He comes to stand beside you. “Maybe it sounds stupid, but it was one of the best days of my life.”

You press the picture back against the mirror, then look up to him. “I-”

You stop, shutting your mouth. And then you do it. Say it. Because you mean it. “I love you.”

His heart swells with pride. He’d done it—it’d fucking worked. And you’d believed every lie, every word, that left his mouth so easily.

He leans down, cupping your cheeks in his hands.

“I know it may seem soon. Really soon. And-”

“I love you, too,” he replies softly, the look in his eyes only further confirming that he truly means it.

He presses his lips to yours then and kisses you so achingly soft. He doesn’t use tongue, doesn’t deepen it, just…kisses you, pouring his heart into it.

When he pulls away, the way he looks at you…no one has ever looked at you like that before. Not even him. Not before this moment.

“I feel like we were meant to find our ways back to each other,” he whispers, brushing the pad of his thumb against your lower lip and you see his eyes grow glassy and you know he’s fighting back tears.

And one slips from your own, which he wipes away.

“Nate, do you-” You pause for a moment, heart pounding. And then you continue. “Do you have any condoms?”

He studies you for a moment—his mind practically fucking exploding from excitement that this had played out exactly as he’d hoped.

God, you really are a sentimental creature.

He nods. “Baby, are you sure about this?” He hates questioning it, but hopes that doing so will only draw you in closer. That instead of him running across the room to grab one, he’s instead more concerned for you, ensuring that this is what you truly want.

You reach up, running your fingers through his soft brown hair. “Yes.”

He considers you for a moment—rather, pretends to—before pressing a soft, loving kiss to your forehead and stepping away, taking your hand in his as he leads you over to the bed.

He reaches down, slipping his t-shirt from you, before looking over your naked body. “God, you’re so fucking beautiful. Do you even understand how beautiful you are?”

He cups one of your cheeks again, his other hand holding your hip, rubbing his thumb against it.

You only look at him.

He pulls his shirt off, then lowers his body onto yours, the both of you settling comfortably against the bed. He helps you scoot back, until your head is resting against his pillows. He first kisses your forehead, maybe half-a-dozen times, then each of your cheeks, your nose, your chin, before giving you his lips. You open your mouth, your tongue searching for his. And you find it, his dancing against yours gently, tenderly.

And then he moves to your neck, giving extra attention to that one sensitive spot that he likes to favor. You sigh, arching your back, and his hands slide under you. And he holds you against him for a moment, your bare chest pressed against his.

“I love you so fucking much,” he mutters into your shoulder.

“I love you, too.”

He can hear that you’re now crying. So he pulls back just the least bit, kissing away your tears.

He smooths some hair from your face, your chin wobbling. “You’re so perfect… You’re everything I’ve ever wanted, Y/N.”

You let out a small, happy sob, smiling.

He then begins to kiss your breasts, taking one in his hand, and then the other, lightly trailing his tongue along the valley between them and your body shudders.

He then kisses down the soft skin of your stomach. Until, finally, he’s reached your perfect pussy which he’ll claim in only a few minutes as his very own.

He begins kissing your inner thighs, seeing that you’re already completely soaked and you sit up a bit.

“Nate, I…I wanted to-” You weren't wanting oral today. You wanted more. Wanted him.

He looks up at you. “Trust me, sweetheart,” he says softly, quietly. “If I take my time…it won’t hurt as much. Please let me take care of you, please.”

You nod, your lower lip wobbling from how much love and care and tenderness he’s treating you with.

You lay back again.

He then places his mouth against you and you gasp. He reaches up, twining his fingers between yours, holding tight.

“I love you, Nate,” you whisper.

He responds by pressing a kiss to your pussy before going back in with his tongue, running it along that seal that he’s about to break.

Once you’re warm and flushed and trembling—crying—does he stand, removing his shorts, and you take in the impressive length of him, licking your lips.

He pads over to the door, locking it—knowing he’ll kill anyone who tries to interrupt you. He’d once considered doing this at your house, to ensure there would be no interruptions, but he needed for it to happen in his bed. Needed to claim your virginity here, in his room.

He then opens the top drawer of his nightstand and retrieves a condom. You sit up a bit, watching as he peels open the wrapper, then feel your core tighten as he rolls it onto his throbbing erection.

You feel nervous, and a bit scared, but also eager to have him inside of you.

To have him teach you what this is like.

After you’d spent so long wondering about it, too.

He then lies his body back down on top of yours, hand lacing between the long, soft strands of your hair. “Are you ready, angel?”

You nod, kissing him.

He reaches down, rubbing himself against your entrance and notices when you tense up. So he stops.

“The only thing I need you to do is relax for me. Let me do everything else. This is about you, not me. I want—I need—your first time to be perfect. Let me give that to you. Please.”

A tear slips from your eye at his sweet, loving words.

You spread your legs wider, tension releasing.

He rubs himself against you again and then finally, finally, eases into you.

You wrap your arms around his neck and he presses his lips to your own, your hands tightening into fists as you feel a painful pinch, something breaking perhaps, and then he slips inside of you.

You whimper against his lips, trying to ignore the pain. You move your hips, until he pulls his mouth away from your own. “Stay still for me, baby. Just let yourself adjust to me.”

He gently lifts one of your legs onto his back and he sinks deeper, moaning at how wet and tight you are. So this is what a virgin feels like, he thinks. And it feels so fucking…perfect.

He looks at you, doing his utmost not to finish right then and there. He needs this to last for as long as possible. “Does that feel better?”

You nod.

He eases out a couple inches, then back in and you moan in pleasure. “Does that feel good?”

You nod again. “Y-yes.”

He kisses you, deeply. Then presses his forehead against your own. “I love you. I love you. I love you.” He presses his lips back to your own before he begins to ease in and out, in and out, over and over.

He goes painstakingly slow, even as his body protests, wanting nothing more than to fuck your brains out. But he needs to be gentle with you. Needs you to think that’s who he is. Needs for every second of your lovemaking to be what you’ve always surely imagined—hoped—it would one day be like.

He looks down at you, staring into your eyes as he continues easing his cock in and out—you’re so wet now that he can hear it. And he loves you all the more for it. How easily your body responds to him.

“Tell me what you need, sweetheart. I want this to be perfect.”

You shake your head. “It is.”

He kisses you again, then slowly—slowly—lifts you until you’re in his lap. He wraps one arm around your waist, encouraging you to move your hips against him. The other comes up to cup your cheek, tangling in your hair as he kisses your lips, your neck, your right breast, then left. He looks at you again and you whimper. “Shh, that’s it, angel. Just like that. Take your time.”

You reach down to touch your clit and he gently takes your hand in his. “Don’t. Please. I want this moment to last for as long as possible.”

You fight back tears again as you lie your head on his shoulder as he continues helping you move your hips against him.

In reality, he wants you to come from his cock alone—to find him to be that good of a lover. He knows it’s not easy to achieve—female orgasms from penetration alone—but he’s more than willing to try.

Finally, he lies you back down on the mattress. “Fuck,” he mutters into a pillow as he slips out for a moment, then eases back in. You shudder from how good it feels, him filling you.

And he enjoys your walls clenching around him.

He places both of your legs over his backside, making you as small as possible beneath him. Dwarfing your small, feminine frame. He loves how much larger he is than you. The fact that he could easily throw you around like a ragdoll.

And you stay like that. For awhile. Silence, just the sounds of your ragged breathing, his occasional moans, your whimpering and sighing. Each of you saying each other’s names or that you love each other. His skin slapping against yours.

Finally, he repositions his hips—his cock touching against some part of you that you’ve never touched before and you jerk. “Ah, right there.”

He knows he’s found what he’s been looking for. So he keeps his hips positioned exactly where they are as he continues to fuck himself inside of you.

Your breathing quickens, your kissing becomes more fervent, your fingers tangling in his hair. And your walls begin to rapidly clench.

He fights back against how fucking good you feel, refusing to be the first one to finish. No. He needs to give that to you. He can’t come off as being selfish in bed.

That will come later.

Until, finally, finally, you cry out, pressing your mouth against his shoulder, your body shuddering, jerking against his fingers trailing along your hot, bare skin. Your walls squeezing and squeezing him.

You begin to cry and then he falls over the edge, following right behind you.

He buries his face In your neck. “God, baby. Fuck, Y/N.”

He moans as his seed fills the condom wrapped tightly around him.

Finally, he stills, his body collapsing on top of yours, cock still twitching inside of you.

You cry silently underneath him and he presses countless kisses to your hot cheeks, your swollen lips. “I love you more than anything,” he says.

And he believes it.

And so do you.

#fic: euphoria (nate jacobs x reader)#nate jacobs imagine #nate jacobs x reader #nate jacobs x y/n #nate jacobs x you #euphoria x you #euphoria x reader

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gnashingwailing · 3 days

Text

GIRL (gender neutral) HELP NOT THE PEER REVIEWED HOMOPHOBIA

@fireflywritesgt sending u my ch 24/25 thoughts <3

⬆️How Harry looks processing how upset he is that Joe nearly died in a lake while lovingly making him tea for his hangover

Meanwhile, Joe: I hope sober Joe knows how to deal with this Sober Joe:

First off. this is primarily a reflection on Joe & Harry throughout these last two chapters but I would be remiss not to mention how EXTREMELY fed I am by the Gutters lore ... was HE a pet or was it someone he cared for... either way... woof. Plus Calloway coming to Joe's rescue once again... even though there are now rumors and Gutters saw something. In parallel with the marking scene ... this story does such a great job of balancing the horror with the levity. maybe it's for the best Joe isn't telling Harry the particulars of his visiting Calloway's bcuz Harry might just have a heart attack if he stops and thinks through the implications of all this. Wonder if he realizes how much danger he might have put Joe in... he seems to kinda forgor everything else where saving/supporting Joe is concerned (as seen in ch21 when he wanted to bring Joe to see O'Grady...)

(Btw I love the way (sober) Joe will NEVER admit anything re: Harry saving his life lol. “You just threw me into a curtain 🙄“ “I don’t even remember the turtle 🙄”)

“He knew what the medical journals had to say about homosexuals; hell, he had read them! He had to give himself some credit, however. The little bastard had been drunk as a skunk, lying helplessly in his hand, and the worst Harry had done was march him straight upstairs to tuck him into bed. Whatever pathology Harry himself had, it had not gotten the best of him yet.”

GIRL (gn) HELP NOT THE PEER-REVIEWED INTERNALIZED HOMOPHOBIA… The Harry chapters always hit soooo hard for me when you read between the lines of what he’s thinking. He is SUCH a poor little guy… We can see pretty clearly that Harry thinks of his affections as something poisonous but Also apparently as something predatory? “his pathology” “getting the best of him” being like… what? That he’d take advantage of him because he’s attracted to him ? Is that the kind of thing the research said? UGH IT BREAKS MY HEART. I hope he’ll reject his coping mechanism of rationalizing and dissecting everything and just let go and trust Joe to know what he wants! It would be really tragic if Harry tried rejecting Joe much the same way Georgie rejected him :’(

“Harry, though he hated to admit it, was afraid – not of Joe himself, but what Joe represented.” - OUUUUUGHHH THE PARALLELS… the way Joe thought the exact same thing after the night of the thunderstorm… ouuuuughhhhh save meeee...

And the parallels continue in their tendency to self-harm… Joe may be more overt about it (lol if Harry ever learns that Joe has purposefully eaten poisoned chocolate three. times. and fully thought he was doing it a 4th with Harry’s own offering … #girl…) but Harry’s absolute repression of any self-expression or vulnerability is equally a form of self-harm… questioning Joe’s ability to make his own decisions is such a sad expression of how Harry (maybe unconsciously?) views things — safety and staying alive is worth more than authenticity. Maybe he won’t stick Joe in a cage anymore but he still wants to exert control over him — in the relatable way many of us do when we feel like our loved ones are making bad decisions. And Joe is making some of those! But so does everyone! And in Joe’s case the worst of them are likely driven from years of internalized self-loathing and self-neglect !! He would probably chill out if he just had a good man waiting for him at home……. Taking Harry by the shoulders and shaking him. U are both two sides of the same coin

Except

“Unseasoned. The word crept back into Joe’s mind. Calloway had a point, he realized; Harry wasn’t acting all that different from some of the lesser-experienced boys of Joe’s own size that he had toyed with. Surely, though, Harry didn’t find Joe attractive. That would be absurd!” Holy shit this whole chapter is so good but this part is hysterical. 1. TOYED WITH⁉️ 2. Watching Harry’s brain overheat in real time while 3. Joe getting to enjoy flirting shamelessly (clapping and hollering that he got to do that AND got to be sober to remember it) WHILE SIMULTANEOUSLY BEING LIKE 🤨 there’s no way he finds me attractive tho. How do they both manage to be such conniving little bastards and also so innocent. So clever and yet soooo dumb. 💕

But even tho he’s somewhat in disbelief about how Harry feels about him, Joe knows himself so very well lmao. At first I thought he was lying about not remembering their conversation but. I don’t think so. Harry telling him he said “something very nice” to him and Joe being like. Was it that you had a nice ass. LIKE HE WAS THIS 🤏 CLOSE TO THE MARK BDDJSHHD but ALSO even just calling Harry handsome made him a blushing mess!! It fascinates me that Harry is so terrified of receiving affection but he felt much more at ease when he was giving it. I mean, he was calling Joe handsome two chapters ago‼️ I think Joe can be forgiven for his romance-novel-brain idealizing Harry as a seductor. It says something interesting about Harry’s character that he’s been so comfortable complimenting Joe until it might lead somewhere … Is that open, easygoing kindness, the sort that compliments other men readily, the ‘real’ Harry? Was Joe seeing his unvarnished personality before it got hidden under the internalized homophobia that has come out in force since ch22? I get the sense Harry is just the sort of guy whose true feelings sometimes spill out of him in a way he is barely cognizant of. We know that’s true for his anger, but I could see that being true for his affection, too. I’m guessing that is why his internal monologue goes “wow! He’s like a movie star :) and he’s so brave and cool and I respect him so much. He looks like a dancer. And his clothes look so good on him. And I notice his haircut and whether he’s getting enough sleep and every scratch and scrape and other intricacy of his appearance immediately. Yeah, I can’t help but love him - you know - like a brother or a friend!!” 👈 UNSEASONED

"“So you admit it. I’m up here because I manipulated you, and not because you manipulated me.” Joe said." — omfg. On the one hand, I love that these two are so good at unhanding each other, and it’s very cute to me that they’ve both at different points felt proud for “catching” one another. On the other hand, Harry & Joe when they are tasked with cultivating a mutually nurturing and vulnerable relationship:

WHAT IF NEITHER OF YOU ARE MANIPULATING THE OTHER AND DOING THIS BECAUSE YOU LIKE ONE ANOTHER AND YOU’RE BOTH CHOOSING THE UNKNOWN. WHAT IF THAT WASNT BEYOND BOTH UR KEN RN. What then. One day they will quit playing Tom and Jerry-esque mind games with each other but not today. I know the rituals are intricate. I know. I know they’re intricate 😔😔😔

On a lighter note so glad to see Joe’s other go-to behavior is back. If he doesn’t wanna Just Walk Out then he wants to Fuck Around & Find Out <3 I luv how compatible the two of them are… Joe is not only moving in he's turning Harry into the u-haul service and Harry is just enamored with him for it. Faithful hunting dog retrieving game indeed. Submissive in the way a livestock guardian dog is submissive to its sheep. 10/10 Joe got his ass so good.

"“I’m sure you[‘ll listen to me]. You have to. If I’m gonna be the tiny, then it means you have to be the giant and do everything I say all the time.” He said." — Hmm. Joe and I have the same g/t fics bookmarked I think 👍 I sort of get the same sense that Harry got when Joe was talking about “luck” — that maybe the idea of “being the tiny” vs “being the giant” has some cultural connotations for him we don’t quite grasp.

OH this reminds me of the question I meant to ask you and promptly forgot about. If miniatures have a taboo against taking things without giving something in return… what does it feel like for Joe when Harry just keeps giving him stuff? Does “paying me in sleep” really work in borrower cultural norms? Hazarding a guess, I’m assuming romantic partners don’t necessarily operate on the same principle of equivalent exchange… given “Joe’s got a rich boyfriend that’s spoiling him” being something Calloway reads as normal/expected … That is to say. Hmm. Is Harry giving Joe all these things something that a romantic suitor would do? 🤔 Harry the unknowing seductor…

Parting thoughts… Miss Wilkins’ dad suddenly came down with tuberculosis, huh. Gang, do we know how Harry’s mom died, other than that it was sudden and traumatic? How do we think Harry is doing re: pushing all his feelings & unprocessed trauma down at this time. 👍/👎?

#something something harry thinking he has a placid internal lake that's only deep and scary in the bottom.#GIRL NO your lake is gearing up for an algal bloom

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emeritus-fuckers · 20 hours

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hiii, this request may be hard, but i've been having a hard time dealing with trauma lately, remembering things in the past, so i wanted to ask for some papas and seestor with an s/o who has been sa'd. thank you in advance💗

Hi, please don't worry about the request being hard. This blog is a safe space. And if we can provide you any comfort at all, we will try our best. - Nosferatu

Papas and Sister Imperator SA comfort headcanons

TW: mentions of sexual assault. cannibalism for young Imperator.

Primo (he/him)

He knows. Even before you tell him anything, he can tell from how you're acting. But, of course, he doesn't pressure you, only telling you that if you ever need to talk about anything at all, he will never even think about judging you.

And once you do come to him, he offers you a seat in the comfiest amrchair imaginable and a cup of tea he made himself.

He doesn't rush you. He understands it takes time. And he gives it to you.

Once you start talking, he listens. He doesn't interrupt you. You need time. And he gives you all the time you need.

He'll ask if you're okay with him touching you right now. If you agree, he's gonna hold you tightly until you tell him to let go.

If you don't want to be touched, he'll offer you a plushie he once got on tour instead.

He'll speak softly to you, reminding and assuring you that none of what happened was your fault.

He offers you a few meetings with a really good therapist so you can handle your issues with a professional. He waits outside the room while you have your appointments.

He doesn't look at you differently, he loves you just as much and he will be beside you as long as you need. Take all the time you need to heal. He shall be there, offering support.

Secondo (he/him)

"Amore, tell me." His tone loving but firm. He knows something is wrong, but he didn't want to push you to open. Now you are there eyes red from crying and he just can't watch anymore, he wants to help.

He sits across from you, paints removed and completely serious. "You can trust me with whatever it is." He pauses for a second "if you want to, that is.."

So you tell him. You notice Secondo clench his fist slightly. He makes a mental note to go with his Ghouls and deal with this person. He takes a breath, knowing that soon that person will never hurt you again, and then relaxes. He looks at you with such love and sincerity. "You did not deserve that. You must understand I am angry at the person who did this to you. Never you. I am so sorry that happened to you."

He asks a few questions so he knows how to help you best. "I will help you heal, I promise you amore, no matter how dark the bad times are, I will always be there. We will make the best of the good days yes?"

He also offers to get you the best therapist, but thats totally up to you and on your terms, the offer is always there.

He will take you away on peaceful holidays, if that helps, to your favourite places in the world.

Or he will just stay with you at home and be there for you. If you want to be hugged he will hold you close to him. His embrace feels safe, you know he will protect you and be there for you.

Terzo (he/they)

Terzo is no stranger to trauma and how its effects can linger. He understands it is a long process to heal, some never do heal completely. So when you come to him while struggling with the effects of trauma, he offers his ear if you would like to talk about it.

If you are open to telling them about what is haunting your mind, they will soften immediately. Listening closely to your story and what happened that horrible day. Sitting close and keeping his eyes on you, so you know you have his full attention.

“I am... so incredibly sorry you had to experience such an awful person dolcezza... you deserved so much better than to be taken advantage of like that. May I hug you?”

They will hold you if you’re open to being held in the moment, promising that he will help however you allow him too. He will gently ask questions about any signs he needs to watch for so he knows when to use what kind of help. Some situations you will want to be hugged and touched, but they’re aware in some that might do more harm than good.

He will support you in every possible way on your healing journey…and if the person or people who hurt you so randomly go missing?

He has no knowledge of where they might have gone…none at all.

Copia (he/him)

He can tell something's wrong. But he's not sure how to approach it without making you uncomfortable.

And so, he comes up with a brilliant plan that can't go wrong.

He writes you a sweet note about how much he loves you and how he's always on your side, no matter what.

He then gives one of his rats the mission of delivering the note to you. Said rat stays with you as emotional support as you tear up at the note.

You meet him that same evening an cling to him, sobbing as you tell him what happened.

He's absolutely heartbroken that something so terrible could ever happen to you. Or to anyone, honestly.

He's not exactly sure what he's doing, but he does his very best to organize a nice, safe environment for you.

He tries to offer you simple yes or no choices.

Would you like a snack? Would you like a drink? Would you like to watch your comfort movie with him? Would you like him to hold you? Would you prefer he gives you some space?

He asks around for therapist recommendations and tries to get you an appointment with the best one if you agree.

He's gonna do everything he can to make sure you feel safe and loved. Because you are.

Old Nihil (he/him)

Unlike his younger self he doesn't wait for you to go to him about it.

He can see your pain, Nihil completely adores you and he wants to help you heal.

He knows now to just talk to you about it. He'll never push you to tell him but he does ask you if you are okay, if you need to talk.

Which you do. He'll hold you if you want him too but he also knows that may not help things at all, so he takes his lead from you.

He listens to you talk and nods to show he is listening.

He doesn't ask or push, he just lets you tell him whatever you are comfortable telling him. "It's okay, you can let it all out... whatever you need my love."

"I will do whatever I can, you have me now" He smiles such a warm loving smile. Something about him, the calming smell of incense allows you to relax slightly. You know that for all everyone just sees Nihil as a man way past his prime, you know the real him. This man loves you, he will protect you and he will burn the world down just to save you.

He does all he can to help with your healing, he goes for walks with you, or just spends time with you while you each do your own thing. Everything he can to show that you that aren't alone in this.

Young Nihil (he/him)

It takes you a while to open up to him, you can see how wild he is and how he solves his problems with drinking and parties and so on.

So you just assume he won't be able to help.

But one night you can't deal with it by yourself anymore. You tell him that you need him, that you have to tell him about something. Nihil just nods, he had a feeling something was wrong, he just didn't know how to approach you about it back then. He's terrified of making things worse.

He sits you down on the sofa and sits next you "I know you're suffering, I can see it. C'mon, babe, tell me whats wrong?"

You start to open up to him and Nihil falls silent so you can talk. His expression surprises you, one of total understanding and empathy. While his trauma was of a different kind he can understand the scars it leaves behind and he is actually very empathetic when it comes to those he loves.

"I'm here for you, just tell me what I can do. Babe none of this is your fault, I'm so sorry you had to go through that" He holds out his hip flask and you shake your head and he nods understanding you heal in your way. "I swear to you, whatever I can do to help I will but please don't feel like you have to keep stuff from me. I'm in this with you babe, I'm always going to be here for you." He holds his hand out for yours. He won't be offended at all if you don't take it, he understands, but if you do he'll give it a tight squeeze.

Young Sister Imperator (she/her)

She will have her ghouls hunt down whoever did it to you. Orders them to bring that monster's head, heart and whatever body parts they used to assault you with.

Keeps the head hidden away in her office as a trophy. Burns whatever they touched you with. And the heart? She eats it in a stew served on the bed of mashed cauliflower with a side of roasted brussel sprouts. Usually she eats beef hearts this way, but she's willing to use a different kind of meat if needed.

Her ghouls get to eat the rest of the body while she comforts you. She stays with you, even if it means her work piling up. You'll watch movies, if you'd like. Or listen to music while either cuddling or sitting together in bed.

She'll read to you, let you hold your head in her lap as she plays with your hair, soothing you to sleep.

She's not the best at comforting, but she'll be there for you and do everything in her power to give you what you need.

Old Sister Imperator (she/her)

She reacts in a slightly less murderous way than she would in her youth. When she was younger, she wanted the assaulter done first and foremost. As she got older, she became more calculated and less impulsive. The person who did this to you still dies, of course, but she spends more time with you first.

She asks you if there's anything specific you need and will recommend you the best therapists available.

She follows your lead on how close she gets and whether or not she gets to hold you. The last thing she wants to do is to stress you out.

She makes sure to organize a safe space for you. Pillows, blankets, your favorite snacks and drinks, all of it.

She only allows a handpicked group of trusted Ghouls or Siblings near you if she absolutely has to leave. But if she can do anything to stay with you, she will.

She won't get too close if you don't want her to. But she will be in the room if you need her.

She has your favorite music or movies playing for you.

If you ask her to hold you, she'll keep you in her arms like the most precious treasure. She gives very secure hugs.

Papas I, IV and Sister Imperator written by Nosferatu.

Papa III written by Death.

Papa II and Papa Nihil written by Nyx.

Due to the subject of the post we've decided not to include the taglist or color-coding this post.

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the-heart-of-a-monster · 2 days

Note

Before I begin, I wanna say that I already sent an ask that was an unfinished version of this. I had to painstakingly go into Google Docs and copy/paste all my writing/theorizing on here because for some reason when I write a slightly long ask my tumblr just has a meltdown. I meant to delete that first ask and send this one instead, but I couldn’t see anything because of said meltdown and accidentally sent it. Hope you see this finished version instead! Would be really embarrassing if you didn’tâ€¦

So yeah. Everything after this is copy-pasted and then continued from the unfinished version. Thanks for your patience!

â€”â€”â€”

Yes yes, I’m back! I disappeared again for a while but I have returned once more to offer my theories and thoughts! And oh boy do I have thoughtsâ€¦

Okay so first off I wanna disregard what I said last time about Sonic asking for Shadow to come inside earlier because uhhâ€¦ Idk what I was thinking. Wow. Hot take from me lol. Guess I was losing the hype from rereading the page a buncha times in a row or something, because I don’t know what I was implying with that. So uh yeah sorry about that I guess.

Anywhizzle with that thankfully out of the way, I can continue on to the meat of these new pages! Sonic himself.

Bro needs himself a snickers-

I’m kidding, (No I’m not) but with jokes aside, this page just gave us something huge! Not only can Sonic transform in the daytime now with limited shade, but he can also transform if he feels just the slightest bit of negativity/anger, and he also doesn’t even turn into a Werehog anymore! He’s gone full Gaia mode now! He honestly looks like a coyote mixed with a wolf if you squint. Pretty cool! But this honestly just opens up so many more doors for so many more questions! What does this mean for Dark Gaia? Will it affect Chip? Can Sonic turn back into his hedgehog self? If so, is it based on a time limit, his emotions, or can he turn back whenever he wants to? Does he even know that he’s transformed yet? Does he know it’s him? AAAAAUUUUGHHGHHH SO MANY QUESTIONSSSSSSS!!!!! ðŸ˜«

I do also wanna say that Sonic is so definitely right. I don’t really remember what Shadow said, but I do know it wasn’t this. Instead of Sonic ignoring his problems, now it’s Shadow, and that’s the exact opposite of what this whole entire comic has been about. Throughout this series, Shadow has always been the more level-headed of the three, (Sonic Chip and Shadow) and he was always the one to help Sonic get through the night when he transformed into the Werehog. I think he even wanted to spill the beans to someone once or twice, but refrained because he just couldn’t do that to Sonic. Pretty sure I’m remembering things wrong on that front though so. But you get the idea. Shadow ignoring his behavior and ignoring Sonic after everything they went through togetherâ€¦ It isn’t like him. Yes, he’s a loner. Yes, he’s pretty edgy. Yes, he’s an idiot. But he isn’t stupid. He isn’t ignorant. Shadow is not like this.

Now Shadow trying to explain away his anger and behavior towards Sonic and his distance by saying “Oh, well, I just got really pissed and I lost control.” But then Sonic hits him with the Uno Reverse and transforms into his new Gaia form right in front of his face, snarling at him and getting all angry in front of the ebony hedgehog, hardly saying anything but a few clipped words. Sonic sees the hypocrisy in Shadow’s words and is not about to let him live it down. He sees the guilt, sees the negativity, and knows.

Which is why, when he turns into probably the scariest version of himself so far for the first time ever, he doesn’t scream or howl in pain or act irrational about it. Sonic, despite everything that’s been going on, remains in control of himself and his actions. He stares down at Shadow and says “Andâ€¦?” As if he’s making a point. Like he’s calling someone out for their crimes or whatever. And he is. To Sonic, Shadow’s ignorance is like a slight on himself, a quick jab at Sonic’s character. And after everything they’ve been through and after what just happened in the cave, the blue blur ain’t gonna take such an insult very well. But again, despite his anger and despite himself and despite his brand new transformation, Sonic doesn’t really lash out at Shadow, instead showing him that “Losing control” is not a good excuse. Shadow may have lost control of his body, but to Sonic, that’s just an everynight thing now. He doesn’t care about that, doesn’t care about what Shadow looked like or how he felt, and instead cared about his actions.

I’ve been going on and on for a long while now with my “Sonic still is going to hide his emotions and feels like crap and still feels bad about himself” mantra, but this scene in particular is making me reconsider that. I feel like before all this happened, Sonic wouldn’t do what he just did now. I don’t think he would be so blunt/careless. I mean he isn’t being careless, there just isn’t really a better way to explain it. Beforehand, Sonic would’ve believed such an excuse and would’ve been like “Oh yeah I guess that makes sense.” But now he seems a lot more controlled, a lot more in his element. He seems more like himself.

Despite everything, it’s still him.

So maybe Sonic is learning. Maybe Sonic is growing. Maybe he’s finally understanding that he’s still himself and that he doesn’t have to hide. Or maybe I’m being too hopeful and sleep-deprived to really get the true message. I don’t know. ðŸ¤·â€â™€ï¸

All in all, this took me half an hour to get through due to technical difficulties and because I had to put my sleep-deprived brain to work for this one so I am gonna leave it here and brush my teeth. Thank you so much for reading this hunk of junk, means a lot to me! Have a great day/night!

(I’m also so excited for the next page lol)

by chaos, despite everything, it’s still him.

#fan lore #clover-the-awesomest #good points good points!!!!!!!!#fan theories #text heavy #long post

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