#I loved working on the cover for this story

[thirdsaltyhunter]

Girl's Night

Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Jody and Donna ask you for help on a hunt and you all get drunk and call your boyfriend while you're away

Warning: fluff, cuteness, kissing, mentions of a hunt so violence?, celebratory drinking, getting drunk

A/N: not proofread, all mistakes are my own

You woke up earlier than you usually did. Jody had given you a call to tell you that her and Donna had caught wind of a pack of werewolves just south of Sioux Falls and could use your help taking them out.

You wanted to start driving early so you could avoid most of the traffic and so you could offer your expertise as soon as possible. However, mornings aren't really your thing. You fought back the groan at how much you didn't want to leave your comfortable spot in bed where Dean was currently keeping you warm. Nonetheless, you began wiggling your way out from under his arm. You were trying not to wake him up this early because he hadn't slept enough this week.

As you tossed some clothes into your duffel bag, you thought you might be able to make it out without waking him, but he was always a light sleeper. A quiet grumble of your name sounded from beneath the covers.

"Hey baby," you whispered going back to the side of the bed.

"You leaving?" he asked, noticing your packed duffle bag, voice rough with sleep.

"Yeah, Jody asked me to help her and Donna take out some wolves."

He nodded and reached for you to pull you into a hug which, from the position he was in, meant that you were just laying on top of him. He was always extra cuddly in the mornings and you loved it, despite how much it tempted you to crawl back under the covers with him. "Be careful out there," he said, placing a kiss to your temple.

"You know I will." You propped yourself up on your elbow so you could look down at him. "Besides, you know it's gonna be a milk run. They probably don't even need me, they just want me to come up there so we can have girl's night."

He chuckled at that, because he knew you were right. Now that he thought about it, the last time he saw them, Donna had threatened that she'd drive down to Kansas herself and kidnap you if he didn't hand you over for a weekend.

He leaned up to plant a sweet kiss to your lips. "Call me when you finish the hunt so I know you're ok."

"I will." You kissed him again before crawling off of him. "I love you, go back to sleep."

"I love you too, sweetheart," he said, already burying his face into the pillow.

You couldn't help but smile at how quickly he gave in to your request. Grabbing your duffle, you headed out of the bedroom to say your goodbyes to Sam before you made your way to your car to start the long drive up to Sioux Falls.

------

The hunt ended up being even easier than you thought it would be. You, Jody and Donna made a pretty formidable and efficient hunting team. The hunt was done before the sun even fully set, so you headed back to Jody's house to begin cooking dinner.

You all decided to forget the plan of cooking dinner and reward yourselves for a hunt-well-done by ordering pizza instead. Claire was off on her own hunt and Alex was working a late shift at the hospital. That left only you, Donna and Jody, sitting on the livingroom floor around a mostly empty pizza box, passing around a bottle of wine.

After catching up on everything and finishing off the bottle of wine, Jody decided to pull out the bourbon and poured a good amount of each of you.

------

About an hour later, the three of you were well past tipsy and were having the best time laughing and telling stories from various hunts.

"Soooo", Jody began with a hint of mischief in her voice. "How's Dean?"

"Yeah we need to hear about our favorite couple," Donna chimed in.

You knew she was talking about you and Dean but you decided to play around. "I don't know what you're talking about," you teased.

"Oh come on you know what we're talk'n about. We want to know what you and ol' Dean's like when you're away from the eyes of the world, y'know, when you put the hunter armor down," Jody inquired.

"I betcha he wears fuzzy socks and watches chick-flics, don't he?" Donna added teasingly.

That had you almost rolling on the floor with laughter. "Oh yeah, definitely."

It was nice being kind of childish like this with them. You had never had many friends in your teenage years and the hunting life didn't typically allow for gal-pals, but you had developed a really good friendship despite not having the time to see each other very often.

You wiped the tears of laughter from your eyes. "Oh shit, I forgot to call him", you attempted to grab your phone out of your bag, which took longer than needed, given your lack of coordination. "Dean asked me to call him after the hunt."

Jody and Donna looked at each other and awwww'ed in unison.

You tapped Dean's contact and put the phone to your ear. After a few rings you heard his voice. "Hey sweetheart."

"Heeeey", you greeted excitedly, voice slightly slurred.

"Hiya Dean-o", Donna said loud enough for Dean to hear.

You could hear him laugh on the other end, clearly gathering that you were all pretty inebriated and having a good time. "So I take it the hunt went well", he said with amusement in his voice.

"Oh it went great, we're badasses."

"I have no doubt of that," he said fondly.

"Hey Dean!" Jody cut in. "Is it true you wear fuzzy sock and watch chick-flicks when you're at home?"

"Baby, what did you tell them about me?" Dean asked you with mock annoyance.

"Oh nothing," you responded playfully. "Anyway gotta go."

You could hear he was barely holding back from laughing. "Hey hold on-" *click*

You bit your lip as you hung up on him before looking up at Jody and Donna. As soon as you made eye contact you all bust out laughing.

[miley1442111]

I LOVED DRUNK CONFESSIONS !! Is there any way I could get a part 2 ?? maybe of aaron waking up the next morning, and on their way to work he forces reader to tell him all the things he did in his drunken state the night before, and he ends up proposing ( even though it’s not as romantic as he wanted it to be )

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the morning after- a.hotchner

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a/n: thank you so much for requesting! i hope you enjoy

summary: aaron's admissions last night ended in a proposal in the car. not exactly romantic, but oh well

pairing: aaron hotchner x bau! reader

warnings: none

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When Aaron woke up with a splitting headache the next morning, he knew he’d done something stupid. He rolled over, covering his face with his pillow as he tried to cover his sensitive eyes from the sun. 

“Morning sunshine,” you smiled and kissed the arm he had wrapped around you. 

“Remind me to never drink again,” he sighed. 

“I tried to remind you last night,” you reminded him. “But you were already 4 whiskeys deep.”

Aaron groaned and you laughed into his side. It felt good to be home, good to have the day off for the weekend, good to be able to just spend it with your family. 

Jack soon came barrelling in, all smiles and loud talking, unknowingly harming his dad. You miraculously coaxed Jack out of the bedroom with the promise of pancakes, just to give Aaron some more time to either sleep, or somehow prepare himself for the day. 

Aaron thought back to last night, only remembering snippets of the night. Talking to Rossi about his day very loudly, dancing with Penelope, telling you something that made you say “You’re so drunk, and you’re going to be so embarrassed when I tell you in the morning,”

Shit. Had he ruined the proposal?

-----------------------

You sat in the driver’s seat of the car, watching as you watched Aaron drop Jack off at a playdate with one of his school friends. Aaron was in a state. He was so hungover and clearly not taking it well. He gave you a kiss on the cheek when he joined you in the car as you started to drive to the local farmer’s market. 

“So… did I say anything last night?” He asked, nerves filling his body. 

“Just some super embarrassing stories about me and you, you talked about Jack for ages, you could not keep your hands to yourself, oh- and you said you wanted to marry me,” you chuckled. Last night you’d decided that all he’d said about marrying you was a distant desire, rather than a realistic action that he was planning on taking soon. “Your drunk brain is clinically insane, Aaron.”

Aaron’s heart dropped. He’d ruined it. He’d ruined the proposal. He let out a groan. “I’m sorry honey, I didn’t want to- I wanted it to be a surprise,” he admitted rather shyly. 

“Wanted what to be a surprise?” you asked, keeping your eyes on the road as you pulled up outside the farmer’s market. 

“The proposal.”

Your head whipped around to look at him and saw him with a ring box in his hand and a slightly pained smile on his face (courtesy of the sun shining directly into them). “Aaron, what is that?” 

“An engagement ring,” he smiled. “The one I’m proposing with now.”

You could’ve sworn you died and went to heaven. Aaron was proposing. Right now. “Yes,” you rushed out.

“Can I ask you first?” he chuckled, taking one of your hands in his. You nodded your head profusely, and he started his speech. 

“Y/n Y/l/n. You are one of the most incredible people I have ever met. You are kind, and sweet, and you care about things so deeply. I cannot imagine my life without you in it. You love me when no one else does, you’re there for me when no one else is, and I love you so much I don’t think there are enough words in the English language to explain it. You are my sunshine everyday. You make me so happy. Knowing that I get to wake up to you every morning means more to me than you can ever know. The way you care about Jack and I is astounding. He loves you so much, and he wanted me to tell you he helped with picking out the ring,” you both let out a watery chuckle.” Y/n I have had the pleasure of being your friend, your boyfriend, and now I’m asking if you’ll be my wife?”

“Yes!” you cried, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him close. “Yes, I want to marry you.”

He held you tight to him. “Sorry this wasn’t as romantic as I wanted it to be,” he kissed your cheek, sliding the ring on your finger. 

“I liked this better anyways,” you shrugged and looked down at the wedding ring on your hand. “Are we actually getting married?”

“I think we actually are,” he grinned like a little boy, and pressed his lips to your is a passionate kiss. 

And there it was. You two were getting married. 

Then comes the hard part, telling the team.

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criminal minds masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, marvel, top gun, challengers, the bear, the hunger games, obx+)

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Stricken 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, violence, ostricization,and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: you were scarred by a storm years ago and its bringer has come to upheave your life once more.

Characters: God of War!Thor

Note: I did this finally.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You always know when a storm's coming. The hairs on your arms stand and your skin burns hot. The smell of rain is tinted by another scent. That of burning flesh and ash. Your scars raze as if struck again and for a moment, you cannot hear or see. 

Slowly, the scent of rain returns to you and the noise of the patter, sometimes more a hammering, as if to remind you of its bearer. The thunder is his war cry. The lightning his wrath. You do wonder why then it should’ve come down on you. 

You keep your hood up, your chin low. Though you hide, the villagers know who you are, they know of your misfortune. The calamity wrought into your flesh in veined scars. Your face is marked with the storm, zigzagged with lines as your left eye is struck blind and white. 

Yet it isn’t your name they whisper as you stop at a stall to buy grain. It is his. The Prince of Asgard. The might God of Thunder. The monster who made you like this. 

The air is thick, roiling with unspent moisture, and the clouds threatening in a grey ripple. You should have come yesterday. You should not have waited so long.  

You trade your coin and move on, gathering the small rations you can afford. You’ll return to your hovel, gather what you can from the garden, and check the traps for rabbits. It should get you through, though the frost does eat away at your harvest.  

As you have it, between the chirping of your disfigurement, there is worse creeping from the north. The snows have fallen heavy and whole lakes have frozen to the silt. You do not believe all you hear but you know better than to disregard the nip in the air. 

Your basket remains like but you’ve spent your limit. Your cloak shifts with your movement and you shrink lower as you near the group of adolescents feigning at battle with sticks. Their audience glimpses your passing and you hear their voices mingle with laughter. 

“It’s that crone. The burnt one,” comes a bit louder than is meant. 

You don’t stop. You don’t show that you’ve heard it. There is nothing to be said.  

“Cursed, by Thor’s hammer,” another chortles, “it is said he was forging and struck the blade too hard. In his wrath, he sent a storm. A mongrel like her drew it upon herself, broken like the sword.” 

Certainly, that too is a story to be met with skepticism. One cannot guess at what the gods do in Asgard nor why they bring only misery and chaos to Midgard. You cannot disagree that the storm was no favour to you. A curse, certainly, though the meaning can never be known. 

You move along, leaving behind their whispers and their sneers. Off to your solace, to your safe. Out of the path of any wandering soul or any blowing storm.  

⛈

A storm rages without. Water swirls and batters your small abode, built against the wall of a cave on a carpet of peat. You cover your ears as the winds whistle and wail. You quake beneath your cloak, eyes locked shut as you cower away from the tempest so much as your own memories. 

The blinding white flash and the scalding hot pain. Your fingers creep up to your chin and feel the rigged scars. You can never forget, no matter how you try. You can never be as you were. You are marked, you are damaged, and as the villagers have it on their tongues, broken. 

Even your family would not have you. You remember your mother’s wail as your father drove you off like some beast. ‘The gods have smited you themselves. You cannot remain or you will wreck ruin upon us all.’ 

Days of walking and tears, like the very storm that scarred you, a haze through which you trod until you could go no more. Until your head would split and the burnt flesh began to weep. A woman found you on the forest floor, rotting away from the corruption spreading through you. 

You don’t remember much of her. Only her touch and how she healed you. She bid you off with the cloak you wear and some food for your travels. Then you were alone and thus you remain. Not even the thieves will steal from you, nor the criminals darken your door. A curse is worth no piece of gold, no drop of blood. 

The pounding of rain relents. A chill creeps beneath the slats of your door and seep into the walls. You fill the earth with what kindling you have, the clay chimney puffing smoke up through the center of the roof. You hold your hands out to warm but find little comfort. 

You settle on your side beneath your cloak and stare into the flames. You shiver. It’s cold. Very cold. Typically, the rain chases away the chill but this is different. You can feel it in the ground. You curl up tight, clinging to your warmth, let your eyes close. Sleep comes but for lack of and not peacefully. 

Your dreams are a maelstrom. There a flames and ice, one after the other, sometimes together. Sharp pointed shards frozen and hanging, then licking tendrils of heat from below. You are lost in the land of sleep, tortured by a world built of your own fears and follies. 

You wake stiff and frigid. The fire has gone out. Not even smoke remains in the pile of ash. You move carefully, bones aching, scars tingling. You touch the hard ridging along your cheek and your fingers pulse from the cold. You can see your breath. 

How can it be? It was sunny before the rain. You get your feet under you and stand with a groan. Near the door, a strange dusting of white powders around the door, flecking in from beneath and around the edges. Snow? 

Were the tales true after all? You wince as suddenly your scars singe and sting. Ow. You recoil and cover your face with your hands, hissing and wheezing through the pain. It hurts terribly. Worse than even the first strike.  

You pull your hands away as your eyes water and you blink through your tears. You can see, at least in your good eye. There is no lightning, it is only in your mind. You shakily turn and search around. You cry out again as the agony surges once more in your head. 

Why? 

Your legs quake. Something is amiss. The frost has come and this meagre hut cannot withstand it. You take your rucksack and put what you can carry into it. Your water skin is strung across your chest and your pack upon your back. You wrap your boots with rags and your hands too. You haven’t the clothing for the cold but you will need to find something. Perhaps skin a hare or two. 

The door blows inward almost as soon as you touch it, another gust nearly bowling you over. You sway with the wind and cling to the crooked doorframe. You shove yourself out, just as quickly flattened to the wall by a flurry of snow. It dusts your face coldly and you pull up your neck scarf over your nose and pull your hood into place. 

You set off, hunched, reaching with your arms as you lift your knees over the treacherous heaps. You keep close to the rock wall. The thought of turning back stops you but it seems as foolish an idea. The hovel cannot hold for much longer. You need to get to the mouth of the cave and chance a sleeping bear within. 

You sidle along, slowed by the snow and the wind, the former soaking through your clothing as the latter whips around your hood. Suddenly, a roll of thunder, like war drums, churns in the air. The word dims and the furor sounds again; louder, closer. 

You cry out and lift an arm to shield yourself instinctively. You curl your hand into the rockface and holler even louder, closing your eyes as your memory summons another storm. No, it cannot be. Not again.  

A deafening boom shakes the ground and knocks you to your knees. You crawl along, keeping low near the ragged stone, those hidden beneath the snow jabbing against your palms. You whimper and whine, blinded by the thickening curtain all around you. 

Yet you never heard of the god raining down snow upon the lands. Only the slaking rains and the hot violence of his bolts. Never this. What sword has he broken this time? Perhaps it was his very own hammer.

The thunder overhead continues its horrid thrum as more pulses in the earth. Boom, boom, boom. You feel it beneath your hands. Your knees come down clumsily as you scramble through the piling powder. You open your eyes and still cannot see. The world is smudge in gray white and black, the sky flashing and darkening from one moment to the next. 

You cry out again as your scars burn. You push yourself back on your heels and grasp your face as you shriek. It hurts! So bad! Your eyes well and flow over. Your body trembles and collapses. You writhe in the snow, contorting with the agony as your flesh feels as if it is splitting. 

Beneath the incessant pounding comes a rocky noise. Like laughter it curdles in the air and chases after you like the steady boom, boom, boom. Closer and closer, louder and louder, the earth quakes in tandem with the cacophony. 

“I’ve found another,” the deep voice scoffs and snickers, “ah, Heimdall, you must see this--” 

The craterous voice halts and the air still. The snow drifts but the wind stops and the thunder relents, the world seeming to hum. You scratch at your face as the flames grow unbearable. You must be alight. It can be the only reason for such pain. 

The large figure, a blurry silhouette in your skewed vision, looms like a mountain. He steps over you, sliding a foot between you and the cave wall and flips you onto your back. You stare up at the sky, rolling in sheets of grey and black, the dark figure standing above, blotting out the clouds. You sob and plead. 

“Make it stop!” You beg as your hood falls back, “kill me! Kill me! It hurts.” 

He bends as your eyes roll back and he grabs your wrists, pulling your hands away from your face. He pulls you half off the ground, not a single grunt for the effort. You feel whoever, whatever it is, looking down at you; upon you. A rattle rises in his gritty throat. 

“And what are you?” He breathes. 

You feel another surge and babble, reining in your wild eyes as you quiver uncontrollably. You make yourself look at him. You shudder and shake your head. Shaggy red hair, a braided beard, and eyes so blue they jolt you. Ink marks one side of his broad face as he wears fur upon his soldiers beneath emblems of the godly lands. 

“It hurts...” you rasp, “I am dying.” 

“You...” he grabs your chin, holding you by your shoulder. His thumb extends up your face to touch the scars and you let out a shrill howl as the agony piques. You latch onto his thick arm and thrash. 

“It buuuuuuuurrnssssssssss,” you scream as your spine arches. 

“Hmm,” he hums and throws you into the snow. You continue your desperate wriggling, the fire softening but not leaving you completely, “Heimdall!” He calls out like a war horn, “get your skinny ass over here!” 

There’s a tinkle of coy laughter and lighter footsteps that land on the boulder above. Your eyes drift over and you see another shadow, this one hazier but smaller. A dusting of snow flies up beside you as the other man lands beside you. No, not a man. 

Heimdall? Son of Odin. 

“Oh, Thor, what trouble have you found--” 

“Another one,” the other growls. Not the other, Thor. The God of Thunder. The beast who marked you. “Father says they all must come.” 

“This one?” Heimdall muses as his voice spikes with humour, “why look at her. Pathetic—wait a moment... brother, is this your handiwork?” He squats to see you closer and snickers again, “why how very peculiar.” 

“Bring her,” Thor barks and spins on his heel, swinging his hammer, “we haven’t time--” 

“You bring her, brother. As you say, you are so much stronger--” 

“Just do it!” Thor snarls and a peel of thunder breaks through the clouds. “I need ale.” 

[emeryleewho]

Saw a fun little conversation on Threads but I don't have a Threads account, so I couldn't reply directly, but I sure can talk about it here!

I've been wanting to get into this for awhile, so here we go! First and foremost, I wanna say that "Emmaskies" here is really hitting the nail on the head despite having "no insider info". I don't want this post to be read as me shitting on trad pub editors or authors because that is fundamentally not what's happening.

Second, I want to say that this reply from Aaron Aceves is also spot on:

There are a lot of reviewers who think "I didn't enjoy this" means "no one edited this because if someone edited it, they would have made it something I like". As I talk about nonstop on this account, that is not a legitimate critique. However, as Aaron also mentions, rushed books are a thing that also happens.

As an author with 2 trad pub novels and 2 trad pub anthologies (all with HarperCollins, the 2nd largest trad publisher in the country), let me tell you that if you think books seem less edited lately, you are not making that up! It's true! Obviously, there are still a sizeable number of books that are being edited well, but something I was talking about before is that you can't really know that from picking it up. Unlike where you can generally tell an indie book will be poorly edited if the cover art is unprofessional or there are typoes all over the cover copy, trad is broken up into different departments, so even if editorial was too overworked to get a decent edit letter churned out, that doesn't mean marketing will be weak.

One person said that some publishers put more money into marketing than editorial and that's why this is happening, but I fundamentally disagree because many of these books that are getting rushed out are not getting a whole lot by way of marketing either! And I will say that I think most authors are afraid to admit if their book was rushed out or poorly edited because they don't want to sabotage their books, but guess what? I'm fucking shameless. Café Con Lychee was a rush job! That book was poorly edited! And it shows! Where Meet Cute Diary got 3 drafts from me and my beta readers, another 2 drafts with me and my agent, and then another 2 drafts with me and my editor, Café Con Lychee got a *single* concrete edit round with my editor after I turned in what was essentially a first draft. I had *three weeks* to rewrite the book before we went to copy edits. And the thing is, this wasn't my fault. I knew the book needed more work, but I wasn't allowed more time with it. My editor was so overworked, she was emailing me my edit letter at 1am. The publisher didn't care if the book was good, and then they were upset that its sales weren't as high at MCD's, but bffr. A book that doesn't live up to its potential is not going to sell at the same rate as one that does!

And this may sound like a fluke, but it's not. I'm not naming names because this is a deeply personal thing to share, but I have heard from *many* authors who were not happy with their second books. Not because they didn't love the story but because they felt so rushed either with their initial drafts or their edits that they didn't feel like it lived up to their potential. I also know of authors who demanded extra time because they knew their books weren't there yet only to face big backlash from their publisher or agent.

I literally cannot stress to you enough that publisher's *do not give a fuck* about how good their products are. If they can trick you into buying a poorly edited book with an AI cover that they undercut the author for, that is *better* than wasting time and money paying authors and editors to put together a quality product. And that's before we get into the blatant abuse that happens at these publishers and why there have been mass exoduses from Big 5 publishers lately.

There's also a problem where publishers do not value their experienced staff. They're laying off so many skilled, dedicated, long-term committed editors like their work never meant anything. And as someone who did freelance sensitivity reading for the Big 5, I can tell you that the way they treat freelancers is *also* abysmal. I was almost always given half the time I asked for and paid at less than *half* of my general going rate. Authors publishing out of their own pockets could afford my rate, but apparently multi-billion dollar corporations couldn't. Copy edits and proofreads are often handled by freelancers, meaning these are people who aren't familiar with the author's voice and often give feedback that doesn't account for that, plus they're not people who are gonna be as invested in the book, even before the bad payment and ridiculous timelines.

So, anyway, 1. go easy on authors and editors when you can. Most of us have 0 say in being in this position and authors who are in breech of their contract by refusing to turn in a book on time can face major legal and financial ramifications. 2. Know that this isn't in your head. If you disagree with the choices a book makes, that's probably just a disagreement, but if you feel like it had so much potential but just *didn't reach it*, that's likely because the author didn't have time to revise it or the editor didn't have time to give the sort of thorough edits it needed. 3. READ INDIE!!! Find the indie authors putting in the work the Big 5's won't do and support them! Stop counting on exploitative mega-corporations to do work they have no intention of doing.

Finally, to all my readers who read Café Con Lychee and loved it, thank you. I love y'all, and I appreciate y'all, and I really wish I'd been given the chance to give y'all the book you deserved. I hope I can make it up to you in 2025.

[dyssonant-skyline]

Full Moon Spoilers: The Final Scene

I have some thoughts.

Okay let me start with saying, the Stolas & Blitzo conversation should not have been relegated to the last 5 minutes of the episode. I think the rushed nature of the conversation doomed any chance of it being a satisfying exchange between these two characters that covers the full reality of their situation. I’m listing this up front because a lot of my grievances could have been resolved with more time, which the team spent on 15 minutes of lead up that I believe were ultimately unnecessary to the show's central plot and actively hinder the direction the showrunners want the story to go in.

During the episode he acknowledges that Blitzo is in a horrible situation. He states that the deal was wrong, implicitly acknowledging guilt for thrusting it unto Blitz and trying to resolve that by giving him the Azmodean crystal. He has decided to end things, and goes through with it even though he displays clear interest in Blitzo’s advances.

Then what does he do when Blitzo assumes that Stolas hasn’t changed? When Blitzo believes that Stolas, the person who he has only had transactional relations with, is setting up a new kind of transaction? 

Instead of further ensuring Blitzo and trying to clear the air. He throws a tantrum. When things didn’t immediately resolve in his favor. Then he immediately goes into blaming Blitzo for only thinking about sex in their, again, transactional relationship. This gets worse because Stolas doesn’t wait to establish a healthy non romantic/sexual relationship before insinuating that he is still interested in Blitzo sexually, opening Blitzo up to misunderstanding his intent… then not being willing to clarify his intent.

“I have wanted you for so long, the fact that you couldn’t believe that I might have these feelings about you, that your first instinct is that it’s always about sex… that’s enough to know what this is.”

My brother in christ, you confront him about this during the sex deal night and don’t expect him to expect sex? You give him ~10 seconds to react to this information before deciding you don’t want to deal with his emotions anymore because they aren’t what you wanted?

The monologue that Blitzo had after that was completely justified and extremely gratifying to hear.

“Fuck you Stolas! You spring this feelings bullshit on me, are you fucking kidding?” - “Can I get a fucking minute to think after everything you put me through?” - “You can’t just dismiss me like that.”

After that sincere outburst, instead of Stolas recognizing what Blitzo is saying and taking some accountability or apologizing… he reacts with

“I didn’t realize you think so low of me.”

HUH? What happened to the transactional deal not being right? Surely if he knows he isn’t right, he knows that Blitzo would probably have a pretty low opinion of him? Breaking the deal doesn’t make his victim required to forgive him, especially not within 5 minutes.

Sidenote but: Stolas’s desire for immediate reconciliation is compounded by the fact that Stolas buries the lead at the beginning of their conversation. He keeps things vague with statements like “I need [the grimoire] back permanently” and “I’ve made up my mind” that lead Blitzo to believe he is being fired. I don’t really believe that the way that Stolas talks here speaks to his character, it reads more like bad writing in favor of a misunderstanding to get Blitzo worked up. It doesn’t seem in character to dwell like this, you could argue it is nerves but I’d argue there is no positive reaction to those first few sentences and Stolas isn’t socially inept enough to fail to realize that.

Honestly, if they were gearing up to have Stolas as a villain still and if Blitzo hadn’t had an apology cut off, I would have loved this exchange as it characterizes Stolas as a villain very well. It shows that Stolas still doesn’t care about Blitzo, just the version of Blitzo he has built in his head in excruciating detail. It shows that despite Stolas trying to make amends through words and actions, he still can not face the hurt that he has caused his victim and will run away when confronted with them. Unfortunately I’m pretty sure the writers are just going to make Blitzo into the one that Stolas hoped would fall into his arms immediately. So whatever.

[ughgoaway]

hi ace!!

"you can pretend all you want, i can see the fucking mess you’re making of yourself.“ with teacher!au would be sooo hot😋

hi, my love!! thanks for requesting this, I had fun trying to work out what to do for this one. hope you enjoy!! 18+ only please, mdni!!

content warnings; arguing (with Jamie lol), fingering, joint fingering swearing, use of a mirror, and light spit play.

word count; 2.4k ish!

p.s, I'm quite rusty with writing, so I'm really sorry if this sucks!!! this has been proofread, but I'm so bad at seeing errors so sorry if there's loads lol <3

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“Oh fuck off Jamie, that’s not what we agreed and you know it.” Matty huffs down the phone. you hear Jamie raise his voice on the other side even from across the room, so you know something really fucked him off, and he clearly blames Matty.

Matty seems just as pissed off with him, rolling his eyes and pacing at the end of the bed as he speaks, “Don't talk to me like I'm a child. Jesus Christ. Just- okay- I'm hanging up now. No, I don't care, Jamie! It's not my fucking fault you cant organise shit!” every word exchanged between them is getting gradually louder, and Matty’s hands start moving wildly as red hot words erupt from him.

You sit against the headboard and watch Matty get more and more irate with every second, and you can't deny it's making you feel something. Maybe it's because he's generally a calm huy, despite what people may think. Or, calm at home anyway. Not so calm when he's screaming about fascist governments on stage. The boys always joked that fatherhood mellowed him out, and from the stories you heard, that sounds about right.

But seeing him growing angrier by the second makes your skin tingle, that same electricity you feel when he’s on top of you whispering filthy demands into your ear. Suddenly, the fabric of your pyjamas feels scratchy against your skin, begging to be slid off and thrown onto the bed beside you. Without thinking, your hand slides under your top, rubbing against the overheated skin of your stomach as your pinky finger dips below the hem of your shorts gradually.

“What a twat,” Matty starts to rant as he marches over to you, staring down at his phone with a frown on his face. “He’s annoyed at ME just because he can't organise anything! I told him I couldn't do next weekend and still-” Matty stops dead in his tracks when he finally reaches you, his eyes tracing over your face and studying you suspiciously. 

“You alright love? Your cheeks are all red,” he says worriedly, his hand coming up to feel your forehead. You can't help but lean into his touch. The feeling of his skin on your was charged with something, making the flush covering your skin darken immediately.

It's then that Matty realises why your cheeks are a pretty shade of ruby woo and why your once calm eyes are black with an emotion he didn't immediately recognise. You want him. Something about seeing him shouting down the phone made you horny. He couldn't help but smirk at the realisation, already forming a plan in his head as he slid into bed next to you.

Instinctively, you move towards him, trying to feel the warmth of his body against yours. But before you can throw your leg over his, Matty guides you between his legs, facing you towards the end of the bed and pressing his chest against your back. His hands immediately start moving over your body, massaging your arms and shoulders before moving further down slowly.

He pulls up the hem of your shirt slightly, only showing a few inches of skin, but it's enough to make you gasp, leaning into his touch and sighing blissfully. Closing your eyes as his fingers trace the soft skin of your abdomen. One of his fingers dips below the hem of your shorts ever-so-slightly, so quickly and delicately you would've missed it if you weren't so turned on you wanted to scream.

His fingers stay there, though, just teasing and dipping below the elastic until you open your eyes again and see his staring into yours in the mirrored wardrobe doors that sit at the end of your bed. He nods slowly, almost questioningly. He wants to know if he can take your shorts off if he can see you. 

You move so slightly that no one else would see it, but your soft nod combined with your whispered, “yes.” is all Matty needs to slide the fabric over your hips as you lift them, smiling softly as you feel the fabric move down your legs and off your skin.

Your thighs part without you thinking, staring at Matty as you spread your legs. His eyes hold yours for a few seconds, but he can't keep them there for any more time than that. Instead, they drop to between your legs. Suddenly, the whole mess with Jamie melted away from his mind and you feel him stifle a groan at the sight of your wet core, his hands instinctively moving to your thighs as soon as he sees you. The intense need to touch you overpowering any thoughts he could have, every once replaced with your name on a loop.

“What got you this wet, baby? Tell me.” Matty whispers in your ear, his soft voice cascading down your neck, goosebumps rising in its wake. Every brush of his digits over your skin was torturous, fingertips dipping between your legs and hovering above where you needed him most. Instead, they move to the soft skin of your inner thighs, leaving featherlight touches that make you whine.

You throw your head back against his shoulder, begging him to touch you properly with soft cries as you buck your hips, desperately needing to feel his fingers inside you. You swear the air around his fingers is thick, and every time he edges closer to your clit, your skin heats up in anticipation. But that same cold feeling overtakes you when he slides his hand away from your core again. You know he wants to hear you, he always does. Forcing words out feels impossible but when his hand teases your tender skin again, you manage to mumble needily.

“S’nothing. not important, please, Matty.” You whimper, closing your thighs around his hand to keep it trapped. 

“you can pretend all you want, I can see the fucking mess you’re making of yourself,” Matty smirks as he slides his free hand over your arms, watching cockily as he sees goosebumps rise in the path of his touch. 

“Fuck- s’just because of you. You look so good when you're angry. Please make me feel good.” The words pour out of you within seconds, not being able to think about anything other than Matty’s fingers inside of you.

“Good girl, so good telling me what got you this wet. You like seeing me like that, hmm?” Matty waits until you start nodding furiously, wanting to make you wait just a few more seconds, letting his ego swell even more. 

“Don't worry baby, I'll make you feel good,” Matty smirks as he speaks, forcing apart your thighs by hooking his feet around your own, pulling them open and watching as your slick glows on your skin, covering your inner thighs. You think he’ll tease you again, but whatever god there might be finally has mercy on you, and his hands start moving to where you really need them.

Heat rushed to your head the second his fingers finally sunk inside you, feeling them crook and hit that spot that made your hips jump, chasing more of him. His other hand grips your jaw, fingertips digging into the soft skin of your cheeks and forcing your head forward, making you stare at your reflection in the mirror. 

Rosy red cheeks and lust-filled eyes meet yours in the reflection, looking fucked out already. You stare at the mottled red flush creeping up your chest and neck, obscuring the freckles that cover your skin, your desperation clear from the vision in front of you. 

Your pulse quickened as you looked back at Matty’s reflection, watching his tongue dart out and wet his lips. His eyes don't meet yours, instead staying focused on the image of his fingers inside your cunt, watching in awe as they skink into you, seeing your wetness spread further and further down his digits. 

Focused eyes watch as his thumb meets your clit, and just for a second, they flick up to your face in the reflection, just to watch the way your jaw shakes and the whites of your eyes become the only thing visible, uncontrollably rolling into the back of your head.

His pace was slow and deliberate, playing you like one of his guitars, moving his fingers with the same precision he uses on stage. The haze in your head was making it impossible to focus, pleasure already pooling at the base of your spine from each purposeful curl of his fingers. 

Calloused skin brushes over your bud, sending shocks of electricity up your spine, licking every nerve as it shoots inside you. You can't help but gasp at the feeling, sucking in air desperately. Butterflies hammer against your ribs as you look at Matty again, seeing the deep pools of his eyes filled with pure black, trained on your body, studying every move you make.

Matty twists his head, reluctantly pulling his eyes away from your core to press a kiss to your temple and whisper in your ear, stopping his movements and moving his thumb away from your bud as the words drip from his lips like honey, “Explain what I'm doing to you baby, tell me how I make you feel, hmm?”

You shake your head, wanting Matty to just keep on moving, but the seconds without him inside you drag on, and you lose the fight in your head. “You're- fuck. You’re torturing me.” You pout, wriggling your hips and trying to get Matty to move again, pleading to feel that same push and pull of his fingers.

“Oh s’that bad, is it? Why don't you show me what to do then baby, teach me a lesson, yeah?” Matty laughs teasingly as he removes his fingers from inside you, the wet noise of the loss permeating the room along with your pained whimper.

You nod needily, moving your hand down to meet Matty’s between your legs and puppet it, pushing his fingers deep inside you, one of your own sliding in with them, guiding his digits. You suck in a breath as you stretch to accommodate your finger along with his, joining Matty’s as they press further inside you before pulling out slowly, watching your arousal string between them.

“Faster” you whisper, keeping your eyes laser-focused between your legs, watching your nearly manicured nails gripping the skin of Matty’s hand and speeding up his movements. He listens immediately, and soon, that slow torturous pace is replaced by quick frantic pumping, your slick dripping down his wrist with each rock of his fingers. “Fuck, yeah. Just like that.” you pant, bucking your hips in time with each thrust of his hand.

“Rub your clit” Matty demands, clearly deciding your teaching moment was over, and he was back in charge. His pulse was racing under his skin as he stared in the mirror. Anticipation filled his body, his mind hazy as he forgets to breathe whilst watching your reflection. He studies the way your nipples harden under the flimsy fabric of your vest, watching your chest heave with every desperate breath. You slide your finger out from inside you, holding eye contact with Matty as you slide it up to your clit.

But your finger doesn't stop as he expected, instead, he watches with a dropped jaw as you bring it up your lips, tapping your fingertip on your bottom lip before pushing it inside your mouth, moaning wantonly as the taste of yourself fills your mouth. Matty mouths “fuck” in the mirror as he watches, keeping his eyes trained on you. He watches wonder as you swirl your tongue around your digit, studying the way your saliva strings from it as you pull your finger from your mouth, smirking at Matty with each move you make.

Just as your spit-soaked finger touches your clit, Matty's other hand grips your jaw and forces your face to meet his, pressing his mouth against yours and forcing his tongue in your mouth, chasing the taste of your release on your tongue. The feeling of his lips on yours as his fingers move with abandon inside you, and your finger rubbing your clit was too much for you, and within seconds you're cumming with a shout against Matty’s lips. Your whole body shakes as overwhelming pleasure rocks your body, waves of bliss radiating under your skin.

“Fuck!” you cry out, letting the intoxicating feeling of pleasure crash over you, your eyes glazing over as the seconds drag on, time melting with each rock of your hips. Your hand clutches Matty’s, your nails leaving crescent moon-shaped marks in his skin, trying to ground yourself with the feeling of his fingers still inside you.

Matty watches intently, a flushed look covering his face as his skin glistens from the thin layer of sweat that covers him. Seeing you fall apart because of him will never get boring, seeing everything leave your brain and be replaced with all-encompassing bliss was a sight he couldn't compare, nothing made ego fizzle up his spine like watching you completely at his mercy.

Once the waves subsided, your grip loosened, and Matty pulled his fingers from inside you. You whimper at the loss, but Matty gently shushes you, forcing you to open your eyes and make you watch him place his fingers inside his mouth, smirking around them as he sucks them clean, groaning at the taste of you. Weakly, you slap his arm with a giggle at his exaggerated moans before turning around to face him, matching his smirk and opening your mouth slowly.

Wordlessly, you and Matty have a conversation, his raised eyebrows asking if you're sure and your slow nod telling him you've never been more sure about anything. His eyes stare into yours as his mouth moves over you, guiding his hand to your jaw and cupping as he spits into your mouth, using his grip to force it closed and watch you swallow. His eyes follow your every move, studying the way your throat bobs and smirking when you open your mouth proudly, showing him your clean tongue.

“Dirty girl” he whispers, smiling at you with crinkled eyes, letting them trace your every feature as you grin back at him, giving him a peck on the lips and settling into his arms contently.

“Mmm, your dirty girl, though,” you respond quietly, smiling happily when you feel Matty press a kiss to your head, both of your bodies sinking into the bed below you and letting the warmth pull you under.

[modern-gremlin]

Morning Errands | Sebastian SDV — Married Life 🔞

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Pairing: Sebastian (SDV) x afab!reader

Summary: You need Sebastian's help with beginning-of-season errands. If only there was a way you could "wake him up".

Tags: Husband!Sebastian, Smut, established relationship, detailed descriptions of sex, a dash of fluff. NSFW Tags below the cut.

Word Count: 2,900 (I did it, a fic under 5,000 words lol) A/N: Fun Fact — this idea started as a non-SDV related adult animation concept I was in early development of. I unfortunately do not have a lot of time for animating things anymore, so it's definitely more feasible to write it down. PLUS, I just love quickly shooting these stories out — better spat out here than rotting in my brain!!

It was really fun to rewrite it to fit the Stardew Valley world; I think it just gives me so much more to work with. Especially when it comes to writing about the world in detail. (and I get to feed my Sebastian brainworms <33) Hope you enjoy the read xoxo

NSFW Tags: morning sex, foreplay (dry humping), some dirty talk (mostly teasing), oral (male receiving), overstimulation, creampie

"Seb? Seeeeebb, it's 6:40," you say softly with a gentle shake of his arm, "we gotta get going." Still unwilling to move from his comfortable spot on the bed, Sebastian stifles a sleepy groan in response. It's always been hard to wake him up — that's something you knew even before you married him. Working freelance comes with the blessing and curse of setting your own work schedule, which means late night cramming sessions are a normal occurrence. You don't really blame him for wanting to sleep in, but today, he promised to help you with your ever-growing list of morning chores.

You run your fingers through his hair, lightly brushing the dark strands off his cheek with the back of your fingers. He just looks so peaceful when he's asleep; it's really such a shame to wake him up like this. Especially when he wraps his arm around you to cuddle against your thigh. It's almost tempting to sink yourself back into his arms and shut the whole world away under the protection of your shared bed covers. Almost — but you know better than to underestimate your beginning-of-season errands. It doesn't help that you also agreed to host a family dinner with Robin and Demetrius this evening. So much to do, so little time. In hindsight, you wish you planned this all a little better.

With a little more force this time, you try to shake him awake. "Mmph… just a few more minutes…" he mumbles while releasing his arms from your thigh, now lying on his back. At least he's able to get a few words out. That's a good sign, you think to yourself. You head toward your bathroom, hoping that by the time you're done brushing your teeth he'll be sitting upright. Maybe.

A soft, cool breeze enters the small opening of your window as you pass through the hallway. It's remarkable how quickly the seasons change in the valley. From your view in the bathroom, you can catch a glimpse of your summer crops, now reduced to wilted clumps in the soil. You'll definitely need Seb's help with this today. You take a little extra time to brush your teeth and wash your face, trying to buy him time to get up. He's gotta be awake by now, right?

You're not surprised to see him still splayed on the bed, eyes just barely fluttering at the sound of your footsteps entering the room. "Seb, it's almost 7 now. I really need your help," you plead sweetly, hoping the cute tone you've adopted would prompt him to move with more haste. He just smiles and offers a curt, "Mhm," in response, eyes still shut. Wow, he's really out of it, huh? You might need to switch strategies.

If you married Sebastian knowing that he's not exactly a morning person, he should also count on the fact that you're always up for a little bit of mischief — because now, you've got a plan that's basically foolproof. Creeping up to the bed, you slowly plant a knee on each side of his body to gently straddle his lap. With your chest pressed against his, you place kisses on his face. "Sebby, come on" you whisper tenderly into his ear, "you can get up for me, can't you?" He lets out an amused huff out of his nose and wraps an arm around the small of your back. He's definitely more awake now, but perhaps a little more provocation will do the trick.

You kiss along his jaw down to the side of his neck, playing with the collar of his t-shirt with your fingers. His eyes lazily open when you stop, now meeting his gaze from where your cheek rests on his chest. "Morning, sleepyhead. Remember those errands I need help with?" you tease. He lovingly smirks at your remark, placing a hand on your head to gently stroke your hair.

"Mm… what time is it?" he asks in a raspy voice. You answer his question with a light pinch of his cheek,

"Probably seven, by now. We're running a little late, y'know?"

The fact that 7AM is considered late to you is something he's still getting used to. If left to his own devices, he'd absolutely sleep the day away and have his breakfast at 3PM. Yet, he tries his best to slip into your daily schedule because that'd mean he'd get more time to see your face throughout the day, wouldn't it? But you know what they say, old habits die hard, and right now his old habits have him basically glued to the bed.

"What are the chances I can convince you to push these errands to tomorrow?" he asks cheekily.

"Hm… slim to none," you reply. "With the dinner party today and the fair coming up in a few weeks, it's gonna be really tough to–" You notice his eyes droop as you speak. "Seb?" He startles awake at the sudden call of his name.

"M' sorry, babe. Promise I'm not doing it on purpose," Sebastian rubs his eyes and yawns. "It's just... hard to stay awake."

With a smile, you shake your head and sigh, "what am I gonna do with you?"

"Hm…I don't know. What are you going to do with me?" He places his hands onto your back again, looking down at you with a suggestive smirk.

Leaning in closer to his face, just barely grazing your mouth over his, you whisper, "I might have a few ideas."

Placing your hands around his neck, thumbs resting against his jaw, you pull him closer into a deep kiss. He tightens the grip around your waist in response, pulling you closer toward him. God, if he wasn't awake a few minutes ago, he definitely is waking up now. He takes your mouth into his, enveloping your lips entirely and gently brushing them with his tongue. You can feel your pulse quickening as your breasts press firmly against him; an urge slowly building and itching at you from below. Unable to contain yourself, you lower your hips to grind against the thick bulge beneath you. You can't help but smile at how hard he already is; grinning against his tongue.

You pull away to shift your weight onto his clothed cock, gasping at how it rubs against you. "At least one part of you is up," you jeer, rocking slow movements against his length. He muses at your words and brushes his hair away from his face, granting him a better view of your body on top of his.

"Can you blame you blame me?" he smiles, his sleepy eyes scanning your form. Running thumbs underneath the hem of your shirt, he gingerly lifts up the fabric to reveal your bare chest steadily bouncing at the rhythm your clothed pussy rubs against him. "Fuck me," he gasps breathily, "what a way to wake up."

His exasperation makes you laugh, motivating you to grind your hips with more fervour. "I'm glad this is working," you admit, "because we have just– so much– to do…" Your words are broken up with every sway of your hips. He pulls your shirt off your arms as you continuously pleasure yourself with his dick, moaning and creating a wet spot on his boxers. He just watches as you use him, in absolute awe by how your body reacts to his. His head slowly falls backward onto the pillow, closing his eyes to take in the stimulation. Then suddenly, you stop.

His eyes dart open again at your weight being lifted off his lap, ready to pull you back onto him. You move his hands away and lower your face to his lap. "Nuh uh. You gotta wake up," you chastise before pulling down his boxers. He groans breathily when his thick cock springs free, smacking his toned stomach from the speed of your movements. Without warning, you spit on his tip and run your palm against his shaft, causing him to tense at the sudden sensation. For a while, he can only stare at you with furrowed brows and complete admiration.

"I should sleep in more often," he teases while grinning at his own remark. But soon his sly grin is replaced by a strained grit because you wrap your fingers around his fat length, stroking him at an unfair pace. He perches himself up by the elbows, watching you fist his cock from base to tip. "Fuck, baby. You gotta slow down or ill–" You lower yourself to lick his balls, dragging your way up the shaft.

"Can't, Sebby," you say, stopping at the tip. "Can't have you falling asleep on me." Taking his length in your hand, you guide his cock into the warmth of your mouth, swirling your tongue around the head.

He instinctually places his hands on the top of your head as he throws back his own. The bed gently shakes at the bobbing of your head, catching and swallowing his length into your throat. It's all so sudden; so frustratingly sexy that he can hardly take it. With the hand that grips at your hair, he tries to pry you off him — hoping to gain some reprieve. But this only invites you to suck on him with more excitement. It's just too hard to resist when he praises you in his gravelly, morning voice. "Holy fuck, babe. You're too good at tha–" You can feel his cock twitch in your mouth as he pushes you away from him; he must be close.

With a gentle tug of your hair, you give in and pull away. You and Sebastian heave heavily, the latter trying to regain his composure. He's usually the one to make you melt underneath him, so you can't help but marvel at his flustered expression. "You awake now?" you triumph with a mischievous smile. He picks himself up to stare into you; the look in his eyes tell you that you're in for it now.

Releasing his grip, he sits himself upright and leans toward you. "Hm, yeah. I think I am," he says while returning your expression, "turn around."

Without a question, you turn yourself around, resting your chest on the bed while lifting your ass toward him. You wiggle your hips tauntingly in his direction until you're greeted by a firm smack — a small yelp escapes your lips from the impact. "So impatient," he chides while soothing the sting with his palm, "well, you got what you wanted. I'm up." He slaps your ass again before leaning behind you, pressing his chest to your back to whisper into your ear, "unless…there's something else you wanted."

Just the sound of his condescending tone sends shivers down your spine, and he knows it. He hooks a finger by your dripping slit and tugs at your underwear, causing the fabric to bundle tightly against your clit. All semblances of your mischief has disappeared, vanished with his scolding and now you're moaning his name into the covers. You can tell he's enjoying every lewd noise you make, because now he's tugging at your panties harder, trying to elicit a bigger reaction.

"Well, now that I'm awake, let's go over our to-do list, hm?" He releases your underwear, only to slip his cock beneath the fabric and vigorously rub your clit.

"Seb… I can't–" you plead, eager to feel him plunge inside you. He places his hands on your waist, stroking soothing circles with his thumbs against your back.

"Don't worry, baby. You'll get it, after we go through the list. Okay?" he coos.

Stumbling your words in between moans, you begin listing the day's tasks. "W-we… need to clear off the crops…and prepare the fields."

"Mhm," he hums while wetting his tip along your slit. "What's next?"

"Clear off the weeds in front of the b-baaaarn–" You words shake as he teases your entrance with his tip, gliding it to catch your slick. "Then go to Pierre's… to pick up ingredients for tonight." Your legs quiver as he prods your wet cunt, not fully entering.

"Is there…anything else?" Sebastian meaninglessly asks, his own voice getting shaky in anticipation. He doesn't really care what's on the to-do list, not at the moment at least. No doubt he'll have to ask about it later, because all he cares about now is making you beg to be railed.

"We might also need to–" This time, he slowly pushes his cock through your wet folds, slipping himself inch by inch into your cunt until his thighs are flush against you. His size fills you entirely, stopping any words from escaping your mouth.

He lets out a breathy moan as he feels your pussy clench around him, still gritting his teeth to continue, "We might need to what? I didn't… catch the last part." He nearly pulls himself out entirely while waiting for your response.

"We…might need to–" You breathe in heavily while his dick pulses inside you. "Seb, please," you beg in a petulant tone. Your cries are so needy and desperate, but you don't care. There's no pride between you two, only true love and the aching desire to be fucked. Lucky for you, the feeling is mutual. Deciding he's equally impatient, he fucks his full length back into you.

"I think I get the gist," he says with a satisfied smile before plunging himself in and out of your cunt. He so badly wants to praise how well you took his teasing, but he's almost completely breathless. Lost for words at how tight you are, how well your pretty pussy takes him, and utterly smitten by the way you moan his name between thrusts. He wants to pound more of them out of you — a reminder to everyone in town that you've chosen him and he's the one fucking you the way you deserve.

Really, this is just one of the many moments he's reminded just how lucky he is. He feels so lucky that you decided to move to this boring town. So lucky that you stuck around despite his icy exterior, and miraculously lucky that you fell in love with him. Now he gets to wake up beside you everyday, fuck you like no one else can, and navigate life's mundanities with the person he loves. Morning errands be damned; nothing ever feels like a chore now that you're his.

He pounds you harder now — as if he's trying to bury his intentions deep inside you so you can feel his gratitude. Because even all his sly remarks and bullied thrusts are just another way of praising you; another way to tell you he loves you without saying it out loud. Your pussy clenches down on him so tightly, grasping onto his praises like your life depended on it. Ready to cum all over his cock to confirm that you feel the same. But even if your cunt wasn't being obvious, your words certainly were.

"Seb– it feels so. Fucking. Good," you whine in between thrusts. You try to warn him of your impending burst, but the arch of your back signals your orgasm much faster than you can speak. Backing your ass further into him, you accept his length against your cervix until you feel your release. You convulse around him, whispering thank you's under your breath. The only sound reaching his ears are your muffled cries of pleasure and the squeaking of the bed. He fucks you through your orgasm, but even after you come down from the high, he's still not done.

He rails your stimulated pussy over and over again, causing you to reach out your hand behind you to slow him down. "S-sebastian, I just came. Slower, it's so f-fast"

Grabbing your arm by the wrist, he plows deeper into you. "Sorry, baby. Can't," he says breathily, "We got too much to do today, remember?" You turn your head back to look over your shoulder and flash him a blissed-out smile, silently laughing at his twist of your words.

Reaching around to your front, he rubs circles around your puffy clit while he fucks his last few, sloppy blows inside you. "So close, babe. M'so fucking…close" he says with gritted teeth. His movements on your bud stokes the fire within you, threatening to shatter you once again. With one last buck of his hips against yours, he shoots his load deep inside your pussy, filling you to the brim with in white. He groans profanities as he sputters small thrusts into you. The warmth of his semen hitting against you is the last straw, sending you into your second orgasm of the day.

Dropping your wrist from his grip, he leans forward onto your back, pulling out slightly causing his cum to spill out of you. You breathe in unison, heavily and laboured as you try to regain your bearings. Maybe it's been ten minutes or maybe it was an hour, but you both lay beside each other, unbothered by the time that's passing you by.

When you both come down to your senses, your eyes lock onto his and suddenly you're both chuckling at the morning's happenings. With a bright-eyed smile, he takes your palm to rest on his cheek. Placing a kiss on your knuckles, he greets you to start the day.

"Good morning, honey."

[allthornsnopetals]

Prologue: Stain the Parchment E. Bridgerton

Description: Flora Deluca -Lady da silva- is the pen pow and beloved author of Eloise Bridgerton. With her travels around the world, Flora finally travels to Mayfair London, in the hopes to inquire inspiration for yet another successful story, one in London, away from France and Italy with the aid of her pen pow. Unknowingly enbarking her romance mini-series.

:Master list:

"Miss Flora, you have received a few more letters from your readers, a lot more." Said Claudia, lowering a stack of folded and sealed papers, all written from the same sender.

Eloise Bridgerton: A new and quite fond reader of Miss Flora Deluca's novels, poems and volumes. She always wrote but Flora only ever read her letters, too busy to answer all her fan mail, especially Miss Eloise, who writes so often, she simply could not read them all.

But tonight is different, it's stale, cold and without excitement. Once left in peace, she began to sift through each written text, enjoying the character of the writer. She found amusement in every letter, all with a different perspective on love, marriage and romance. To simply put it, Miss Eloise is anti-love, which is ironic given, the reminder that Flora's genre is predominantly romantic.

But Eloise doesn't seem to mind, enjoying star-cross lovers, unrequited love, right person wrong time and general adventure. Adventures throughout France and Italy, Flora's mother lands. The more she read the more interested she became, intrigued in the young lady, who seems to have a gift for literature. Ideas racked her mind, ones of adventure, travels and new stories.

Without a second thought, Flora began to write to Miss Eloise of London.

Dear Miss Eloise Bridgerton,

I find your mind fascinating, intriguing and fresh. I like your take on the topic of romance and the rights for women. I do hope you put it to good use, for a woman like yourself has skill and potential. I am to travel to Mayfair London in four months, before the debutante season of marriage, for my father is to inherit his family estate there, and I am to start a new life in the Ton. By your letters, you seem to be a local, someone to show me around and help me to settle in.

I do hope to see you, perhaps get some ideas for a new story.

Yours truly,

Lady da Silva

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

"Eloise, you have a letter from... Italy?" Violet turns the letter in her hand, holding it out to her daughter with great confusion.

Eloise cracks her gaze from her book, eyeing the parchment, snatching and ripping it open. "From Italy? From whom?" Hyacinth inquires, trying to see the letter.

Eloise scowls. "From no one, mind your own. It is not your business." Said Eloise, shooing her little sister away with Benedict slumping himself beside her, also very excited.

"Is it from Lady da Silva?" He questions in a hushed voice, wetting his lips.

The two share a love for the author and artist, who illustrates her own books and covers. Both, sending letters frequently, but only one receiving a reply.

With a gasp, Eloise clarifies their suspicions, her grin far too wide for a typical letter. "She likes my mind, she thinks it's rather fascinating," She gloats with a smirk. "And she's moving to London!" She screams, jumping for joy with Benedict, like fools, sharing an embrace.

"I am to write to her right away!" She runs up the main stairway, leaving her family in silent confusion.

Dear Lady da Silva,

I am greatly honored to receive word from you and to be given the opportunity to aid you in your next book. I have plenty of ideas, adventures, character personality and genres. How about a heroine? A woman hero, who embarks on a quest, an adventure.

I cannot wait to finally meet you, to brainstorm with you, to work with you! Your novels are legendary here, in the Ton, enjoyed by all— yes, even by men. Genevieve Delacroix, the modiste introduced me to your books— surprisingly we mingle a lot, discussing your books over tea and fittings. She too, is quite the literature, she adores your poems, always quoting those of affection, frequently, must I add.

She would love to meet you. Oh, and my brother, Benedict, who found himself looped into our little book club— if you can call it that— and writes to you as well, but it seems you have only replied to my letters, which I thank you greatly, truly. You bruised his heart for only replying to me, forcing him to quote your latest publish: Irony is of the Heart. Your best work, if it means, he too, is quoting your work.

I can't wait to see you,

Eloise Bridgerton

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Time flew by rather quickly, sending letters, the two made a connection, forging a friendship by letter, staining their parchments, their minds occupied with the other. The two became pen pows, rather quickly, their letters becoming more intimate and personal, Flora was beginning to think she were already with her.

Sooner than she thought, she were in Mayfair London, unpacking her chambers, decorating and finding new furniture for her study. Once sat for the night, she wrote to Eloise, informing her of her arrival and her need for new garments. Marking a time to meet and unknowingly a new beginning.

[daisyblog]

Wedding Bells

Our Story Masterlist Summary: Harry and YN finally say “I do!”,

It was the night before the big day. The day that YN and Harry finally say “I do!”. Wanting to keep the ceremony very intimate, only inviting close family and friends, the couple decide they would get married in a small wedding venue that was tucked away in the countryside of Yorkshire. 

Harry had been whisked away from his soon to be bride, by the men but Louis stayed by his sister’s side for the evening. The two siblings were sat together on the balcony of YN’s room, silence surrounded them as they enjoyed a moment a quiet after a busy day. 

Louis eyed up his sister as she sat in her “bride” robe, her now large bump poking out, her hand that held her engagement ring stroking back and forth where the little Styles grew. “Any nerves Tiny?”. 

She glanced over at Louis, who was still sipping on his bottle of beer from earlier on in the evening. “No…nothing…I’m actually excited”.

“I suppose that’s when you know you’ve found true love!”. He thought out loud, knowing his sister was lucky to find that type of love when she was young. 

“Good thing we didn’t listen to you ey?”. YN tried to break the serious of the conversation, earning a smirk from Louis. 

“I was so annoyed…and now look we’re sat here on the night before your wedding!”. Louis reached over to hold her hand in comfort. 

“You’re the best brother…you know that don’t you?”. YN could feel the tears rise from within her chest, the moment making her emotional. 

“Of fookin’ course!”. Louis sassily pretended to flip his hair over his shoulder. “Now less about me and let’s get you into bed before I have the girls pestering me about you needing your sleep”. 

---

YN couldn’t believe how her evening had gone from calm and quiet, to the next morning being chaotic. Her room was filled with every person possible, her makeup artist and hairstylist were being put to work. Louis had left once he could see the chaos about to start, but not before whispering “it’s all about you today Tiny” in her ear and placing a brotherly kiss on her cheek.

After what felt like hours, YN stood in front her bridal party that included all his sisters and breaking tradition, Louis too. “I’ve never seen such a beautiful bride before!”. Anne was the first to speak, as she wrapped her arm around Louis who was gulping down his tears.

YN wore a flattering white grown, that showed of her bump elegantly as it flowed down her body and left a small trail behind her. Her face was covered in light make up, giving her a natural look to her pregnancy glow. Her hair was placed in a low up do with a slight curl framing her face.

“You look absolutely breathtaking!” Lottie complimented as she dabbed her eye with a tissue, careful not to smudge her own makeup.

“I hope Harry’s got some tissues ready…’cause he’s definitely going to need some!”. Louis caused the whole room to laugh as he all held their tissues ready.

A knock at the door disturbed them as they all looked at Mark who wore a smoke. “It’s time for a wedding!”.

YN couldn’t help but feel giddy knowing that within the next hour she would get to call Harry her husband and she would be Mrs Styles, no longer sharing a last name with her siblings. The thought caused an internal meltdown in her head.

“Tiny? What’s wrong?”. Louis was the last person to leave the room before YN. He hurried to her side.

“I won’t have the same last name as you or the girls anymore”. YN’s concern was real, her bottom lip quivering slightly.

Louis couldn’t get but let out a little chuckle. “YN…your last name may change today…but you’ll always be a Tomlinson in there.” He gestured to her heart.

“How do you always know what to say?”. She asked as she pulled herself together again, not wanting to walk down the aisle with tear marks.

“Stop procrastinating…you have a man waiting to marry you!”. Louis playfully moved YN closer to the door.

---

The sound of ‘Ocean Eyes’ by Billie Eilish sang through the room, as YN and her father stood at the double doors. YN couldn’t help but smile as she watched Daisy walk down the aisle first with Doris and Ernest, both holding her hand as they smiled at everyone the walked passed.

Next, Phoebe walked carefully behind, Olive in her arms wearing a beautiful ivory flower girl dress as she sat in her mother’s arms. The newborn caused the other guests to ‘awe’ at her cuteness.

Lottie and Lucky trailed behind the others, but the little toddler caused some laughter as he tried to run down the aisle.

Louis and Freddie were the last ones to walk down the aisle before YN. The bond they shared really showed as they both wore the same smile and how Freddie gave Harry a fist pump before he found his chair.

“Are you ready darling?”. YN heard her father as he held open his arm for her. His smile matching hers as he got ready to give his first daughter away.

“I think I’ve been ready for the last twelve years”. YN marched his smile as she spoke true words. She looped her arm through his and they both took their first steps down the aisle.

As she takes her steps down the aisle, she couldn’t help but notice all the familiar faces that had come to celebrate her and Harry today. The people she will always be grateful for.

She spotted Sarah, Mitch and the other members of the love band all sat in a row together. But causing her to smile and let out a giggle was Pauli mouthing the words “saucy” to her. These were the group of people who she got to call family for the last few years.

Next, she spotted Harry’s uncle, auntie and cousins, all smiling brightly back at her as they officially welcome her to be a part of their family.

The next three faces that all say together was a pinch me moment for YN. There sat Niall, Liam and Zayn, all of them amused by her jaw dropping expression that she quickly covered up. The three boys that took her on like a sister since she was sixteen, the ones who she caused chaos with on tour, the three people who always showed up for her.

Before setting eyes on her grandparents and siblings, three empty seats reserved for special people caught her eye and it was in that moment that reality hit her, her Mum wouldn’t see her marry the love of her life. But catching Anne’s eye brought her some comfort as she mouthed “I love you” to her as she wiped her tears.

As they reached the bottom of the aisle, she was face to face with Harry who was wiping away his tears at the sight of his bride. “You look so beautiful…you literally took my breath away”. He whispered as Mark placed YN’s hand in his. Louis took his place next to YN whilst Gemma remained by Harry’s side.

“Friends and family, we have come here today at the invitation of Harry and YN to share in the joy of their wedding”.

Harry and YN couldn’t help but get lost in each others eyes as the registrar spoke. They both felt like young teenagers again, as they let out childish smiles and giggles.

---

“The bride and groom have written their own vows and wish to read them…YN..you may begin”. The registrar instructed as he looked between the couple.

“Harry…I could stand here all day and list everything I love about you. But I think everyone in this room has already heard it a million times. From the moment I met you, I knew deep down you were the one. You taught me how to love myself, you showed me love on a different level, you have been there by my side through all the good and bad times and I will always love you for that. Harry you are my best friend, my soulmate and I can’t wait to call you my husband and the father to our children. This is our forever and always”.

YN took a deep breath and smiled up at Harry, as he used his knuckle to wipe his eye before the tear escaped. “I love you”.

“Harry…you may now read your vows”. The man instructed.

“YN…whilst you come across as sassy, strong willed and a bit of a potty mouth, what others don’t always see is your loving, caring and kindhearted side. I’ve been lucky to see that side of you for the last twelve years and I can’t wait to see it for the rest of my life. You’re the most beautiful, strong and determined woman I’ve ever met and I love you for it. You’re my best friend, my partner in crime and as much as I can’t wait to call you my wife, I’m even more excited for us to be Mum and Dad. I love you forever and always!”.

The guests let out a cheer as the couple finished their vows, causing the pair to go giddy with a coy smiles.

“Do you Harry Edward Styles take YN Olivia Tomlinson be your lawfully wedded wife, to live together in matrimony, to love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health, in sorrow and in joy, to have and to hold, from this day forward, as long as you both shall live?”.

“I do!”. Harry gave a boy-ish smile to his bride, one that showed his dimples as he placed the wedding band on her finger above her engagement ring.

“Do you YN Olivia Tomlinson take Harry Edward Styles be your lawfully wedded husband, to live together in matrimony, to love him, comfort him, honor and keep him, in sickness and in health, in sorrow and in joy, to have and to hold, from this day forward, as long as you both shall live?”.

Without hesitation, a large grin shinning through that caused her eyes to sparkle, YN spoke the words Harry had longed to hear. “I do!”. She carefully pushed the band along his finger.

They both beamed at eachother as they waited for the famous next line.

“By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife…Harry you may now kiss your bride!”.

Having been deprived of each others touch and presence since the night before, Harry wasted no time reaching for her cheek to bring their lips together. YN could feel them both smile against the others lips as they shared their first kiss as husband and wife. Their guests cheered and clapped as they watched on in happiness.

---

The reception area was decorated in fairy lights and Polaroid photos of YN and Harry were hung around the room, dating back from when they first met.

Harry and YN were sat on the top table, with Louis and her grandparents next to YN and Gemma, Anne and Des next to Harry. The newlyweds were in their own bubble as they huddled together, whispering in each others ears and stealing quick kisses.

With the guest all full from their three course meal and itching to get on the dance floor, Gemma rose from her chair as she was given a microphone to speak.

“Hello everyone…I’m Gemma and as the Best Woman I’d like to say a few words”. She glanced at Harry, before speaking again. “Harry…my baby brother who followed me around is married. For everyone who knows my brother, will know how amazing he is…he’s selfless, warm hearted and one of the kindest people you’ll ever meet. When I say I’m proud of you Harry, it doesn’t justify how proud I am…watching you grow from a little boy to a grown man has been an absolute pleasure. I love you baby brother!”. The guests all clapped as Gemma took a breath. “I will be honest…growing up I always believed there would be no one good enough for Harry…but the day I found out that YN had won my brother over, is the day I changed my mind. I’ve never met two people who are meant for each other, and as much as I would like to say welcome to the family YN…I think it’s safe to say you spend more time at my Mum’s than I do”. The joke caused a sea of laughter from the guests but also YN as she did spend a lot of time at Anne’s. “In seriousness…I wish you all the happiness as your family grows and I love you both!”.

Everyone lifts their drinks in a cheers and in agreement of Gemma’s words. Louis takes this as his cue to stand.

“‘Elle everyone…I’m Louis and YN has decided to be different and instead of having a Maid of Honour…she’s got me a Maid of Man…I know it’s exactly what I was thinking!”. Louis made the rook laugh at his attempt of a joke, only causing YN to playfully tap his arm. “For those who know us Tomlinson, you’ll know we’re a large family…I was an only child until YN was born. The day my first baby sister was born, was the day I met my best friend for life…from kids to adults we are inseparable and I wouldn’t have it any other way. YN…you’re a married woman with a baby on the way but you’ll always be my little sister and I love you more than you know”. YN wiped away her tears as Harry gently rubbed his hand along her back in comfort. “Harry…you’re my best friend and when I first learnt that you and YN were a thing…I was skeptical and went into big brother mode…but with some wild old words from Grandad Len here…I saw sense…and over the last twelve years I’ve watched your love for my sister grow…you have cared and supported her and our family though some dark times and I will always be grateful to you…but most importantly you’re the only person who could put up with YN’s pregnancy hormones because I’ve never seen something change so quickly!”. Louis’ sense of humour took a hit with the guest as they all shared a giggle, as Harry nodded in agreement. “But I wish you all the best in your long married life and your future together…YN…Harry…we love you!”.

“To YN and Harry!”.

---

Between her pregnancy bladder and large wedding gown, YN had spent the last twenty minutes with the help from Lottie in the ladies bathroom. But as she exited she was pleasantly surprised to see all the guest mingling.

She stood for a few moments of searching the room, she spotted her husband in the corner chatting away. YN made a bee line for him, not wanting to be away from him a minute longer than she needed to be.

YN slid up to Harry’s side, and naturally his arm draped around her waist as he pulled her closer to him. The couple shared a quick peck as they reunited.

“Well someone fookin’ pinch me but I swear I see One Direction standing in front of me”. YN couldn’t help but tease as the five boys all stood together.

“You never change do you babe? Still our number one fan”. Zayn laughed as his eyes scrunched slightly and his tongue poked through his teeth.

“I’m loyal Zayn…can’t say the same for you lot…eighteen months you said”. The boys knew YN was teasing but it didn’t stop them all from giving each other a side eye. “So is my wedding present a performance?”.

When the boys looked between each other but remained silent, YN broke the silence. “Well it was a try…I’ll have to get this little peanut to nag you when she’s here…you’re not going to say no to your daughter or niece are you?”.

“YN…it’s your wedding day…you’re not surely still going to talk about One Direction?”. Liam laughed as he noticed Harry give him a look of not to say a word.

“Exactly Liam…it’s my wedding day and I want One Direction to perform”. YN said with sass as she flicked her hip out and placed her hand on it.

“God I love you aye….don't ever change!”. Niall only encouraged YN’s behaviour, Harry could only assume it was because their friendship was so strong.

”On that note…I’m going to find Lottie again because this little bubba is sitting on me bladder again”. YN hurried off after placing another peck on Harry’s lips.

“And just think lad….you’ll have a mini YN running around soon!”. Louis playfully tapped Harry on the shoulder, causing the other boys to laugh at Harry’s wide eyes.

---

“Ladies and gentlemen…please welcome Mr and Mrs Styles to the dance floor for their first dance!”.

The newlyweds walked hand in hand to the dance floor, smiles beaming at eachother as wrapped his arms around her waist and YN’s reached up to wrapped around his neck.

When she gets that come-get-me look in her eyes

Well, it kinda scares me

The way that she drives me wild

And she drives me wild

They gently danced across the floor, both too busy wrapped up in each other to notice their family and friends watching on in awe, some videoing the special moment whilst others stood their and lived in the moment.

Beautiful, crazy

She can't help but amaze me

The way that she dances

Ain't afraid to take chances

And wears her heart on her sleeve

Yeah, she's crazy

But her crazy's beautiful to me

As Harry had his head resting near YN’s ear, he sang the words to her causing a shy smile to land her lips. After waiting twelve years, they were finally a married couple with their baby girl on the way and life couldn’t be better.

“I love you Mr Styles!”.

“I love you Mrs Styles!”.

Tag List:

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[liliannadelaphinehartifelt]

Devotion PTS 5 + 6 are pretty long, dramatic, and angsty. However, I'm proud of how they turned out. Once I edit them and post here. I'll begin uploading the whole story to Ao3 as promised! - The Radio Angel ❤️

Also new cover. Art made by the lovely and talented @lustylita ❤️

Be sure to check out their other works! All of its absolutely stunningggg!

[taylor-titmouse]

Meatheads, by R/L Monroe

it's another month gone by, which means another cover for another @petitemortality R/L Monroe book! this one goes hard and sweaty and meaty, and the worldbuilding is both really funny and really fascinating in the little glimpse of it we get. and also there's three huge fuckin dudes going to town on each other. check it out, and follow along on the process for designing the cover below!

FYF 3: Meatheads $3

Trapped by a lethal boiling sun, in the neon ruins of a fallen supercity, three tank-grown ultrasoldiers have nothing to kill but time and no enemy but their own overheated flesh. Daily hormone shots gave them hard bodies, but without a seedsucker to offer them relief, they soon have something even harder to contend with. It's not gay if you come out on top...right? Almost 7k words(!), EPUB and PDF format. Content: -M/M/M -straight turned gay -testosterone dosing -cum harvesting/drinking -dominance struggle -sexual hazing -rough sex

THUMBNAILS

i lost track of the initial notes for these, but the first two were really just me spinning my wheels. my instinct was something with greek wrestling, stylized like pottery. we usually do the covers early in the month, so i hadn't read the finished book yet and didn't have a clear sense of the aesthetic yet. i did know there were three guys, which made composition tough. fighting is not, typically, a three-man's game. lee suggested looking at WWE and rugby

which led me to looking at turkish oil wrestling, because truly, what is greasier than that. originally there was a reference image of turkish oil wrestling here, but tumblr hated it so much that they flagged the post and denied appeal. those men were wearing pants. this post is free to read on patreon so you can see the greasy boys there.

moving on.

AH SHIT THAT'S TOO SCARY

so while we were talking about the color palette, lee brought up 80s splatterfest VHS cover design. we agreed on violent red and purple, but the topic of horror led me in a horror direction. gritty lines, harsh light and shadow, scary imagery with the single red eye, etc. and we agreed this look is Sick and Rules, but wasn't quite right for neon future climatepunk.

so i went back to the drawing board and totally got rid of the hatching. we're looking for neon, for black velvet, for graphic

definitely closer to the final product! though of course as soon as i saw it in discord i realized the purple on the middle guy's back and the third guy's leg were competing too much with the top guy's back and making it hard to know where to look. so: more variants

adding the paint strokes down was just something i wanted to try at the last minute, and it was definitely the right move! there were like five more variations of just That with the gradient map very very slightly adjusted, but honestly it's not worth posting all of those lol. the version we settled with was the best one!

and that's the process for this month's fuck yourself friday cover! this is both my favorite cover so far AND my favorite story. i love high concept worldbuilding that serves the fucking. if you're here and supporting my work, i bet you do too! so go read it! it's only $3 dude!!

[storiesbyjes2g]

Hey Jess! I had a question that I figured other people might want to know as well. I'm always amused at how your game matches sims up to marry or have children. I was wondering, what are your MCCC settings that make it happen so well? I have sims sitting in my 'manage households' and none of them have married or moved out with the 'in game' story progression. What's the secret sauce? 🤣

Howdy, partner! 🤭 It's funny you should ask me this because on my seven mile long list of video ideas I have is a short series about MCCC settings, and this is one subject I wanted to cover. But who knows when I'll get it together and actually record those videos lol. As you could imagine, the secret sauce has many ingredients, so I'll put the rest of this under the cut because it's a lot. Here we go!

Even though I said this is a multipart answer--and it is--I'm gonna split this up into two sections because marriages and pregnancies are two separate entities. Many of the settings are the same, and they both fall under the MC Pregnancy module, but they're still separate, and I think of them differently.

Marriages

Marriage Sim Selection

The first thing you should consider is who you want marrying and if your sims should be included in the process. As you've seen, I like seeing the other sims' lives progress, even if it's messy AF LOL. I especially love this happening in the aDOLTing save because I'm technically not allowed to play with anyone else but Luca right now. BUT, I don't want every single sim there is to get married, leaving no single sims for my sims to date. That's what happened in Emmy's generation and why I added Ali into the world because there were exactly TWO eligible males in the entire world, and I knew one of them would definitely not work out. In the Marriage Sim Selection part of MC Pregnancy, you can specify who can and cannot get married. I'm not gonna through each setting, but here are a few that are important enough to note.

Allow homeless marriage: Unless you regularly add your own sims to the world, I would enable this. Otherwise you probably won't have any marriages happening. This is disabled by default. Yes, you run the risk of your unplayable sims marrying someone hideous, but it's better than them dying alone, right? Plus you can always make them over. Your sim doesn't know the difference anyway lol.

Bypass dorm residents: If you don't enable this, your university students will be eligible for marriages!

Bypass played households: IF you want to be the matchmaker for your sims (the playable ones), turn this on! If you're flexible and don't mind surprises, turn it off.

Bypass active sim romances: This one needs to be in red lol. TURN THIS ON! If your sim is dating an NPC, and you don't want that sim to suddenly turn up married (I'm giggling...you know why), you need this on. I think it's on by default though. The only "gotcha" with this setting is that the relationship has to be significant. Lovebirds status isn't strong enough to prevent a marriage. I usually get my sims into an official relationship as soon as possible to prevent this.

Other Marriage

In the Other Marriage section (MC Pregnancy), there are settings for renaming, moving, etc. after marriage. You should definitely check out the settings to tailor it to how you want your world to be, but I want to call out Use Traits for Marriage. This is a newer setting that I enabled as soon as it launched. It doesn't make sense for Don Lothario to get married in every single save. He has the noncommittal trait! Turning this on will take a sim's traits into consideration before determining if they are eligible for random marriages.

Spouse Sim Selection

In this section, you can do things like allow polygamy and inter-family marrying, specify what % of marriages should be same sex, allow teen marriages, etc. Here are just a few settings I want to call out.

Occupancy Preference: It took me some years to figure this out, but this is honestly the key to my entire setup. This determines which group of NPCs are candidates for marriages and pregnancies by where they live. The choices are homeless only, prefer home sims, living in homes only, and none. I have prefer home sims on. I like neighbors dropping by and seeing them walking around, so I tend to put my sims' friends and sims I like into homes. This setting says when it's time for random marriages and pregnancies to occur, sims living in homes get first dibs. If none of them are eligible, then everyone else will have a chance. I used to have this on none, and I was experiencing waaaaaay too many random marriages. Like, good on the homeless sims for having lives lol, but they were snatching up every single eligible sim and I was like this has to stop lol.

Use Same Age-Group: I've gone back and forth about enabling or disabling this one and finally decided to enable it. This will keep your fresh from high school babies from getting married to someone with one foot in the grave! Sims will only marry other sims in the same age group as them. Back in the day I felt sorry for the elders because they're always single when they die. But I also felt sorry for the baby they married lol. True, when they croak, the kid can find new love, but they've wasted so much time being married to the old sim. So with this on, elders aren't completely out of luck. They can just only marry each other.

Pregnancies

Okay! Now that we know how to let sims get married, let's learn how to knock some up! 😂

I would check out the Offspring section of MC Pregnancy on your own just to get familiar with how you can shape your sims' families and even the children to a certain extent, but let's get to the important stuff.

Other Pregnancy

There's really good stuff in here like allow pregnancy aging, pregnancy duration, and random moods, but the only thing I want to call out is Use Traits for Pregnancy. This will take into account sims traits before they are marked as candidates. It won't prevent sims with the hates children trait from getting knocked up, but it will lower the percentage (which you can specify in another section, I think).

Partner Sim Selection

This is similar to marriage sim selection, and in here I also prefer home sims in the occupancy preferences. I also allow a veeeery tiny percentage for allow affairs. I like tea, what can I say? LOL Not everyone is faithful!

Pregnant Sim Selection

This is similar to spouse selection, and I do not allow homeless pregnancies for the same reasons I don't allow homeless marriages. I have all the same settings enabled from spouse selection, so revisit the above. Additionally, I use days until max age. This prevents a sim from getting pregnant X number of days from the end of whatever lifespan you specify is the oldest to be pregnant. I don't allow elder pregnancies, so this stops my adult sims from getting pregnancy X days from their elder birthday. My number is 10, but you pick whatever makes sense for your lifespans. I do this because I've had waaaaaaay too many sims get pregnant and have babies like the day before their elder birthday, and then they die before the kid is a teenager. I don't want orphans in my game! They make me sad. Besides, in real life, at a certain point women can't have children anymore, so I want my game to be the same.

Days to Run Checks: By default, MCCC will go through this process of marrying and knocking up sims 3 nights a week at midnight, but you can change that to whatever you like here. I thought 3 nights a week was WAY too often, so I only have it run once a week on Fridays.

Pregnancy Percentage: Just because the check runs every week doesn't mean I want someone getting pregnant every week. I'm not trying to create a baby boom. I cut the pregnancy percentage for young adults by half and adults by 75% (since IRL it's harder to get pregnant the older you get). I'm not afraid of a teen pregnancy story, so I do have teen pregnancies on and reduced their percentage by 85%. Even though I wouldn't mind telling that story, I don't want a teen pregnancy epidemic lol. I've had this enabled, but I've yet to have MCCC knock up a teen.

I think I skipped over Marriage Percentage but I use the same logic and similar percentages there too.

Valid Target Ages: HA! I see why I've never had a teen pregnancy lol. Even though I have it on, I never marked it as a valid target age. For whatever reason I only have YA selected. Not sure why. Probably for the best. If a teen pregnancy happens, I'd prefer it be my own sims.

Bonus

I love a little risk and challenge and surprise in my game. This is why I love using lumpinou's mods. I not a micromanager and prefer some things be left to chance. I like being able to try for a baby and it maybe not work that time. I don't like how predictable the game is. So, if you're feeling froggy, here are a few more settings for ya!

MC Woohoo - Woohoo Pregnancy

Risky Woohoo Percent: I used to have YA on 3%, but lumpinou has intergrated her mod with MCCC more, so I don't have this enabled anymore here. (it's controlled by her mod now and I think it's at 5% now). 3% might sound low, but MAN I've had so many oopsie babies on that little 3% lol.

Try for Baby Percent: I lowered mine to 65% just to add some variety and give my sims something to work toward. (No, this is not what caused Luca and Sophia's problem LOL).

MCCC Settings - Relationship Settings

I'm highlighting this because, even though I placed it in the bonus section, I highly recommend you check this out. These are the settings that control if/when sims move in together or break up!

Auto-Relationship Settings

Breakup Settings: You can specify which sim will move out and who the children will live with. Couple relationship change percentage applies a modifier that will make a couple's relationship (dating, not married) increase or decrease over time. I increased mine to 20%. Same thing with spouse relationship change except I only did 10% there.

Move-in Settings: I allow homeless romance move in and kept the romance level to the default. (sweethearts) I also increased the romance move-in percent to 25%.

Bypass Played Household: It should go without saying, but just in case it's not clear, I always want my playable households bypassed because I want to maintain control over what happens to them. About this, I have other households that I don't actually play (in the Pierson save) that I have as playable just to preserve them and prevent anything from happening. So to be clear, unless a household is marked as played, they will be subjected to the random marriages, pregnancies, and relationships.

A few months ago, I FINALLY decided to mark Emmy and Ali as unplayed, hoping that Ali would find love again and that Emmy and Dwayne would move in together. Instead, Alessia got knocked up, and Dwayne put his foot down LOL. Sorry dude. Wish I could help! Well, I could just move her in, but it actually doesn't feel right for the story...but that's an entirely different conversation lol.

Anyhoo...I hope you found something in this novel that helps to spice up your game! Thanks for asking!

[asnowdriftsomewhere]

Daylight

Part 2 Cassian x f!reader

Part 1

AN: Thanks for the love for part 1. I hope you enjoy this next part

Summary: Cassian has questions about the female living with him for the next six months. As it turns out, you have a few questions of your own.

Warnings: implied trama, references to war and gore, sexual tension

Word count: 2416

Cassian watched you in the days that followed that first meeting in the depths of the library. He watched for any sign of that slithering piece of daylight, so like his brother's shadows, as you breezed in and out of the House of Wind. You never stayed for long, only bothering to make a short appearance each morning for breakfast before disappearing into the dust covered stacks. You would emerge hours later to very quickly eat dinner and then retire to the bedroom he and Azriel had cleaned out for you all those weeks ago; when Rhys had told them about the Day Court researcher who would be staying with them at the house for six months at Helion's request. The Day Lord didn't say why he wanted you to come to the Night Court when his many libraries were said to be far more impressive than the one you now worked in. Or, at least, if he did, then Rhys had decided not to share that information. And he supposed it didn't matter, not really, as your presence had proven to be more or less inconsequential to the General.

Still, he couldn't help but idly wonder at the reasons your High Lord had ordered you here. If it was really for research purposes or some other, potentially sensitive, reason. If it was the former, then you were being remarkably secretive about your interests. Even Gwen couldn't make heads or tails of what you could possibly be looking into when she'd taken a sly glance at the titles of books you'd gathered on your table one day. It ranged anywhere from the creation myths of the world, to personal memoirs of seemingly random individuals, to even children's stories. It peaked all the female's interests during their morning training sessions and had been a topic of debate through their opening stretches more often than he cared for.

And, if it was the latter… if there was potentially a secret, sensitive reason for your presence, then he supposed it wasn't his business to pry. Mother knew he sometimes needed the space and time to deal with his own shit. He just hoped that when you were ready, you had someone to talk to about whatever it was that left your gaze vacant most nights when he sat across from you at dinner. Someone who understood whatever it was that sent you into the dark.

“Good morning…” he trailed off as he entered the dining room one morning, about a week after that first meeting. He looked to your usual spot at the table only to find it empty, not even a whiff of your scent to let him know if you had simply gotten an early start. But, before the frown could fully set on his face, a glimmer in the corner caught his eye. Turning towards the window, he saw that slip of daylight drift across the floor towards the veranda that overlooked the city far below and…

Cassian's breath caught in his chest, and he shifted onto his back foot. You had dragged a small table and a chair out to the railing and were sunning your perfect face in the early morning light. The golden rays of the sun that you alway glowed with seemed to almost sparkle as sunbeams danced across your skin.The wind gently flowing through your hair carried your scent to him where he now stood in the doorway, watching you. It was impossible for someone to be that stunning, that unendingly beautiful, and yet he found himself mesmerized every time he saw you.

“Are you going to stand there gawking all morning?” Your question came out as a sigh, your voice like a melody he once heard.

Cassian shifted on his feet, his wings tucking in. “I didn't mean to stare.” He hadn't, but he often found he couldn't help himself when it came to you.

“Males never do,” your voice was dry as you opened up your eyes to look towards him. “It would seem that your entire species is incapable of restraint.”

He gave you a halfway cocky grin, “Are all Day Court females so full of themselves? Or are you just a special case?”

That earned him a smirk, “Sit, General. Eat with me.” He looked down to see another chair, this one with a low back to accommodate his wings, appear opposite yours. A plate of his preferred breakfast was already waiting for him.

You went back to warming your face in the gentle morning light as he took his seat. Head tipped back, eyes closed, all emotions drained from your features as the sunbeams flitted across them. Warm and welcoming, you breathed into the wind as Cassian ate his food. A sort of comforting quiet passing between you for a time.

“I never thanked you,” you spoke when he was nearly finished with his breakfast.

He looked up at you slowly, “What for?”

“Coming to check on me,” you admitted, almost sheepishly. “It was a kindness. I should have thanked you.”

He shrugged as he resumed eating, “Clotho asked me too. Plus, it's not like it was terribly difficult to just pop in.”

You raised an eyebrow, a sort of thoughtful confusion in your eyes, “Do you not fear the lower levels?” He went still for a moment, “I heard that you and the High Lady had a terrible experience down there.”

It was his turn to raise an eyebrow. “Have you been asking about me, Y/N?” You blushed and Cauldron damn him if it wasn't the most lovely thing he'd seen in the last decade, at least.

You waved off his question, “I merely overheard a few of the Priestesses speaking about it when I was fetching another book for my research.”

He studied you for a moment. His gaze was far more assessing than you thought the General was capable of before he set down his fork and leaned back in his chair. For a moment, you thought maybe you had offended him, that you had brought up some terrible thing he'd rather not speak on. But he offered you an easy smile even as he crossed his arms over his chest. “How about this,” he began, a spark of mischief in those hazel eyes. “A question for a question. If you're so curious, we can get to know each other that way.”

You let out a laugh, “Are you bargaining with me, General?”

He shrugged, the corner of his mouth twitching up, “I see no reason to bring magic into it, but I will admit I have questions, and you've hardly been available for me to ask.”

Your eyes flashed, and for a moment, he worried if he'd pushed too far, if he'd overstepped in some way. But you just settled into your chair, a sort of challenge in your features that had not been there a moment ago. “My research is off limits.”

He nodded once, “Fair enough. Do you want to go first?” You only raised an eyebrow, a pointed look on your face as he recalled your earlier question. “Right, the lower levels.” He told you about Bryaxis, the creature of nightmares that once dwelled in the darkest parts of the library. He told you of how they hunted for it still after it failed to return after the war. And he told you of the presence the Priestesses sometimes felt when they ventured into the deepest levels. As if something still lurked in the dark.

“I see,” you bit your lip as you thought, and he tipped his head to the side.

“Have you ever felt anything like that? When you're reading in the lowest levels?”

“No,” you sighed, meeting his gaze, “but creatures like that don't usually care for individuals such as I.” A gesture to your body and the faint glow you emitted at all times. “It's hard to lurk in the dark when there is always light.”

“Actually,” you smiled like a cat toying with its dinner, and he raised an eyebrow, “You asked a question, so it's my turn again.”

“True.” he let his eyes drop, respectfully, to your neck, your collarbone, your- He snapped his eyes back to yours. A knowing smirk on your lips. “Right, my question now-”

“Wha-” he frowned, replaying the conversation before letting out a long breath. “Right. Go on then.”

You laughed once before your expression shifted. Your face softened, and your eyes dropped to the table as you seemed to think over your words carefully, “Have you ever heard a swan song?”

He blinked once, the corners of his lips tugging down, “Uh, no. I didn't know swans were song birds.”

You didn't meet his eyes, “They're not, except for right at the end. Just before they die, they make the most beautiful music. At least, that's what some legends say. Some say that they are always singing their songs, and only when we are on the brink of death might we hear the melody. I just wondered if you, a prolific warrior and General, might have… heard it.”

Cassian frowned now as he thought. He'd been in plenty of difficult battles and nearly died more times than he or his family cared to think about. But had there been music? He always thought of battles as a dance, the clashing of blades and beating of wings like a song in his soul. A war drum that called to his very blood. Did that change when he went down? When the enemy closed in and his strength was not enough- When Az was carrying him through the mud, his guts hanging out of his body- did the music shift then? Was there a different song in his head? In his heart?

“Yes,” he answered finally, and your eyes snapped to his, “Yes, I think I might have.”

You held his gaze intently, as if looking for the honest truth in his words and fearing you might find a bitter lie. He didn't look away, didn't falter as you assessed him. That golden gaze drinking in everything that he was and is and would be as if you would never see it again. The moment felt charged in a way he had not anticipated. Like a live wire had connected the two of you, and his blood was electric in his veins. His skin was too tight, and gods, he was hot, and you- you were just sitting there watching him. An unruffled goddess glowing in the morning light.

“Y/N-”

A noise behind him broke the tension as he turned to see Nesta standing in the door to the dining room. Arms crossed, and an eyebrow raised she smirked at him as if catching him in the act of something uncouth. Cassian only raised a hand as if to ask ‘what?’ before he turned back to where you sat.

Only your seat was empty. Your plates were gone, and not even your scent lingered to prove you had been there to begin with. He looked around, even going so far as to glance over the railing in case you had jumped, but there was nothing.

“Good meal?” Nesta asked, leaning against the door frame. The delighted, wicked smile on her face told Cassian all he needed to know about how this morning's lesson with the Valkyries would go.

He cleared his throat, “You didn't happen to see a certain Day Court female jump off the veranda, did you?”

Nesta's grin only grew, “Oh no, Cassian. As far as I could tell, you were sitting here all by yourself.”

“Right,” he stood up, placing his napkin on his now empty plate. “Shall we go? The other will be waiting on us.”

“Oh don't hurry on our account,” she teased him, “You seemed to be staring quite intensely at nothing. We wouldn't want to interrupt whatever it was you were thinking so hard about.”

He only leveled his gaze at her, “Keep talking, Nes. Cause it sounds to me like you want to do five extra sets of squats today. I'm sure your fellow Valkyries will thank you for it.”

The two of them walked away, playfully sparing with their words as they disappeared through the dining room and into the hall. You watched them go, a sort of wistfulness filling your chest as you dropped the glamor that had concealed you from sight. It was a rare magic, true invisibility. One you were only able to wield due to the light based nature of your magic. And one you used so selectively, not even Helion knew you could do it.

You felt bad, letting Cassian look like a fool staring into nothing and then vanishing so even he couldn't see you, but it had been instinct. A reflex you couldn't stop to conceal yourself from view the moment your daylight whispered that someone was approaching and you found yourself trapped within his hazel gaze. It had been almost hypnotic, the way he looked at you. Admiringly. Reverently. It made your heart beat fast, and your blood run hot, and something in your chest twisted with pain. Perhaps it was dangerous, allowing the General to get close to you. Perhaps you should return to the library depths and not return until your High Lord came to fetch you. But even as the thoughts crossed your mind, you dismissed them. Clotho had sent him after you once for that nonsense. You didn't see the female having any qualms about doing it again.

Still, some distance might be a good idea. You chewed on your bottom lip as you looked out to the city so far below and sighed. Not too much, but enough so that that, whatever had passed between you, did not happen again.

Your daylight circled your ankle, a cat begging for attention. Your smile turned soft as you dropped a hand to let the light pool in your palm before bringing it to rest in your lap. It was a beautiful day in the Night Court, so like the warm comfort you were used to back home and yet also foreign and new. Perhaps you would explore the city a while. Take in the sights and delights of your temporary residence. Rhysand had offered to give you a tour upon arrival. To show you all his favorite spots in Velaris. Maybe it was time to accept.

After all, there were many ways to keep a male at bay.

[laurolive]

And They Said It Wouldn’t Work

Came across this lovely photo of Linda on the cover of the April 30, 1977, issue of the U.K. weekly Woman. Her interview is titled “All you Need is Love, and a Beatle called Paul: Linda McCartney's story” by Bonnie Estridge (p. 28).

That’s all the info I have since the story is not reproduced anywhere online that I can see (though it’s obtainable from other sources).

______________________________________

Turning my attention to the cover text, when “they” said the marriage wouldn’t work, “they” were not without just cause, IMO. Circumstances pointed to a relationship destined for failure.

______________________________________

McCartney juggled multiple girlfriends simultaneously and had never practiced commitment in his adult life. Linda counted among her lovers many of the rock musicians she photographed. McCartney pursued and slept with Linda (among others) while engaged to someone else (Jane Asher).

So here we have a courtship, begun in deceit and sneaking around, between two people who still appeared to be enjoying the free love era. “If he’ll cheat WITH you, he’ll cheat ON you” goes the adage. The guy couldn’t even stay faithful to his fiancée. Is this the behaviour of a future responsible family man?

Beatles biographer Hunter Davies didn’t think the marriage would last [link]. John Lennon gave it two years [link]. The civil wedding seemed to be arranged in a rush with a bride who was three months’ pregnant. The night before the big day, the couple had such a huge argument they nearly canceled the ceremony [link]. No wonder the marriage was given such poor prospects.

______________________________________

Yet it became rock music’s most famous love affair and its most enduring monogamous union. HOW? For one, it goes to show that it’s easy to make predictions based on superficial knowledge.

Observers saw a womanizing Beatle rock star who would never settle down with one woman. It turns out McCartney had deeper layers than met the eye, and they meshed with Linda’s. We just didn’t know his REAL values in life until he talked about them.

______________________________________

Some men are womanizers and stay womanizers. That’s who they are deep down inside. Monogamy has no appeal.

Some men are womanizers when young. It’s an experience to try, not a routine to live by. I think Paul falls into this category. Deep inside, he was a family man. Going by his interviews, where he often speaks tenderly of Linda and rhapsodizes about fatherhood, one can sense that he believed in romantic love. He wanted a soulmate; he wanted children. He matured, and his ingrained values came to the forefront.

He didn’t become husband material right off the bat. It was a process, probably a difficult one given his status. When he played the field in the later 60s, perhaps it was not totally to have fun, but also to seek out girlfriends with whom he had a real connection. These he called his “serious relationships” [link]. Some of those girlfriends claimed he wanted to marry them [link1, link2]; yet even when he did get engaged, he seemed to be unsure and still searching. (I guess he didn’t consider it cheating if he wasn’t married.) Recalling those days for the 2001 documentary Wingspan, McCartney tells his interviewer (who is also his daughter Mary) that it was time to get serious; and he especially felt that way with her mother. He didn’t want to remain a bachelor playboy all his life.

______________________________________

And so he got serious. Once he committed, he was husband and father all the way.

“I had my wild life,” he declared in a 1974 interview [New York News magazine: Just an Old-Fashioned Beatle, April 7, 1974]. “But I told Linda everything about that and all the rest. I have no secrets from Linda. I had my time, in my time. But I am much happier now. This new life [with wife and children] means more to me.”

______________________________________

He expressed similar sentiments in other interviews over the years, such as TV interview with Barbara Howar, Aug. 23, 1986 and The Guardian: After Linda by Simon Hattenstone, Sept. 11, 2000, just to name two.

……………….

[lover-of-mine]

i'm fine with the bt scene being what it was because it showed what is. a shallow superficial relationship that is not being written as endgame so I'm fine with them not having a more emotional connection make it more obvious its BONES in s8.

Okay, I'm gonna say this and I need everyone to know I genuinely mean it, I'm not fine with it. I am tired of the show giving Buck and Eddie love interests that exist to have no agency besides girlfriend/boyfriend or plot device for an exposition dump. I desperately wanted to care about bt. Buck being bi is such incredible representation and I spent the whole season waiting to be convinced I should like T and bt together for anything beyond the fact that they are a queer relationship but I keep coming up empty-handed. I like being a hater right now because no criticism of him is allowed without someone screaming that you're homophobic or hate gay people and that everyone in the show is problematic why doesn't he get a pass too so I am grabbing on to every wrong thing about him the same way people are blowing the good things to justify my aversion to him. But the thing is, T is a character who's being written in a way that is so hard to sympathize with when it comes to Buck. He has this shell that makes him rigid and he has this dry sense of humor and he could be interesting if he was willing to bend a little bit for Buck. That relationship was not something I could get behind when T left Buck on the curb, because while I do believe T was incredibly justified in not liking the situation Buck put them in, he could've communicated that better before he was literally in the car leaving Buck behind, so there Buck was once again in a relationship with someone who left him because they can't handle who he is. That was the impression I got from that first date and I keep waiting for them to be cute for me to move past it and the show is giving me nothing. Why did they make the choice to not let T dress up for the bachelor party and indulge Buck when the job by definition requires for him to change into a uniform so he could've put in some effort? Why did he let Buck walk around with his face covered in soot when they could've shown us a shot of him cleaning Buck's face before they walked into the room holding hands and give the impression that there's more going on there than a few makeout sessions? Why weren't they affectionate at the ceremony? Why wasn't that conversation in the hospital, where it would've shown a level of care and that joke could've been seen as an attempt to make Buck feel better about what was going on? Why are they always two steps to the left of being cute or having any fighting chance? And that's ignoring how intertwined Eddie is with the beginning of their relationship because that's just disturbing. The triangle thing is annoying as fuck if Eddie was not gonna get confirmed as queer and the sides wouldn't actually connect.

I think narratively Buck and Eddie getting together is the thing that makes the most sense for both of their characters, but if that's not gonna happen, I wanna care about the people they're with. I love Buck as a character, I want him to have a nice love story if for whatever reason we are not getting buddie because love is the thing he's been searching for, and whatever bt has going is not it. And the thing that's killing me is that it could be. It's the same thing they did with Taylor because if Taylor was as intense about Buck as she is about the job, they could work, but the show made a choice to use the development of her character to stir away from Buck. And T, he's just there. And it's frustrating. I don't even wanna get into the comparisons between buddie and bt because imma be honest I'm still processing the way the show had T refusing to dress on theme and then had Eddie suggest matching outfits in the next scene, what even was that?? But the way the show constantly takes the chances they have to give depth to their relationship, looks it in the eye, and runs the other direction it's just........... yk? This is Buck's fifth relationship and I can't for the life of me look at it and see where it's going because they are making it seem like it's going nowhere. T parallels Taylor all the time visually, when it comes to screentime he's just a step above Ali, he's nowhere near as developed as Taylor was at this point. I had hopes for that scene when they started to talk about parents, for 20 seconds, I believed they were gonna give emotional depth to them, but they didn't. And I was literally sitting here begging them to give me something to care about when it comes to them if they are gonna keep them together but I have nothing to show for it and I hate it. There's no emotional connection, they will probably breakup at some point during s8 and I'm just gonna be there "oh wow another failed romance what a surprise" while they keep playing up Buck and Eddie's partnership and not letting them go all the way, and it's just tiring.

And this is ignoring the way we keep getting yelled at for not resonating with them. I sincerely don't want to hate them but I can't find a reason to care about them.

[bullet-prooflove]

4000 Follower Celebration: Bad Influence - Crockett Marcel x Reader

Tagging: @anime-weeb-4-life @99-reasons-to-live @legit9thlunaticwarrior @telepathay 

Companion piece to:

The Fire Still Burns - Crockett still loves you despite the fact he walked away.

Fuck & Run - It takes Crockett a minute to realise something's going on.

In the months following your nephew’s death you turn up at Crockett’s sporadically. He can go weeks without hearing from you and then you’ll turn up on his doorstep, fuck him and leave all over again. It’s the same behaviour he used to exhibit. Emotionally withdrawn, risk taking behaviour. It’s a coping mechanism, a dangerous one. At least if you’re doing it with him, he knows you’re being safe. You’re with someone who loves you, who cares about you.

“Talk to me.” He says one night in the aftermath, his thumb ghosting over the blush of your cheek as he looks into your eyes.

“You’re a bad influence on me.” You murmur, your lips brushing over the hollow of his wrist. It’s the first ounce of warmth you’ve shown to him in months, it’s a sigh that you’re in there, that you’re beginning to thaw.

“And yet you keep coming back to me.” He says with a soft smile but you shake your head, drawing away from him. You sigh as you sit up, running a hand through your hair, shaking it loose so it falls around your features.  

“I mean I’ve become like you.” You tell him as you slip out from underneath his sheets. “The way you were after Harper died. The only time I feel anything is when I’m fucking you, the rest of the time…”

You don’t have to say the words because he knows exactly what you mean.

Numb, hollow, empty.

There is nothing worse than losing a child and your nephew, you may not have given birth to him but he was effectively yours.

“Darlin…” He says softly and you ignore him as you begin to gather up your clothes. He’s been where you are, he knows you don’t want his love or his tenderness. You want the rawness, that violence that comes with the physicality of the act.

“Unless you’re going to fuck me again, I’m leaving.” You tell him as you step into your panties and tug them up your thighs. “I don’t need anything else from you.”

Your words, they’re meant to wound him, to force him away from you but they don’t because Crockett, he recognises the anguish in you, the agony. He understands that is a form of self-flagellation, that it’s the only way the world makes sense.

“Darlin.” He says again, this time more firmly. He raises to his knees on the mattress, the sheets falling away to reveal his nakedness. He’s hard for you again, his cock leaking, still covered in the essence of you. His hand cups your chin, guiding your gaze back to his. “I will be your lover, your friend, your fuck toy, anything you need. You just need to tell me how I can help you right now.”

You pull away, your thumbs hooking on your panties before you draw them down your thighs once again.

“Rougher this time.” You say as you take his hand and place it on your throat. “I need you to  punish me.”

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