#I’m gonna go back to my writing and wallowing the word I was looking for was wallowing

[emeraldcreeper]

It sucks to know everything’s made up and bullshit when it’s fully midnight and you’ve been cranky for 3 days straight, the mortgage budget we had is now shot to shit because 5 months is… too long to try and get a house????? The FUCK man

[joonie-beanie]

Side-Gig | [Peter B. Parker x Reader]

Pairing: Peter B. Parker x Reader

Summary: Peter gets worried about your apparent “side-gig” and goes snooping, only to discover your side-gig is writing Spiderman smut on commission.

Contents: Fluff, Smut, Consensual Sex, Pussy Eating, Banter, Friends to Lovers???

Author’s Note: I swore off posting fics on tumblr, but since this is just a one-shot, I figured why not. I think Peter B is charming, had to write a lil smth smth for him. And by that, I mean a 7.1k wordcount fic.

You and Peter Parker are friends. Not best friends, but pretty good friends. 

You like to say you’ve looked out for each other over the years. You don’t talk all the time, but it’s kind of an unspoken promise that when one of you needs someone to lean on, the other person will be there.

Which is why, when Peter and MJ separate, you make a point of inviting Peter over for meals. 

At first, he turns you down every time you ask, and you know it’s because he’s wallowing—depressed about his situation. And that’s understandable. You can’t exactly say you know what he’s feeling, but if you put yourself in his shoes, you’re sure you’d be a little bit fucked up about everything too.

Therefore, you give him a little space—wait for things to settle and for Peter to come around. 

Except, Peter takes it all way worse than you expect—going radio silent after your third invite in two months. Then, you really start to get worried (and also a little mad that he’s ghosting you).

So, you manage to scrounge up his new address using some internet-sleuthing skills, and show up at his door. When he opens it, he’s dressed in a greasy wife-beater, worn-out gray sweats, and white socks with a hole in the toe.

“Jesus Christ, Peter.”

You spend that evening scolding Peter and letting him cry it all out—handing him tissue after tissue as he blubbers about everything on his mind. When he’s finally done, he apologizes for ignoring your last call, and thanks you for looking out for him.

With a smile, you assure him you’ll always have his back, and that now he really has to come over for dinner, because he owes you.

Laughing, Peter agrees. And luckily, he sticks to his word.

Since then, you and Peter make a point of doing dinner twice a month—typically at your place, sometimes out at a restaurant, but never at Peter’s. Not until he deep cleans his messy apartment, and you know that won’t be happening anytime soon.

Tonight, you’re at a restaurant of your choice—a local Italian joint. Peter arrives late, per normal, and you wave him over when you see him walk in the front door. He immediately spots you and hurries over, his eyes darting to the plate of bruschetta you’d ordered for the table, that now only has two pieces left.

“Aw, that’s not fair,” he says, sliding into the booth across from you. He immediately reaches for one, shoving it into his mouth. You shrug, not sorry.

“That’s what you get for always being late. And if I waited for you, I’d be hangry by now. So really, you should be thanking me.”

“Uh-huh,” Peter says with a roll of his eyes, picking up the menu to see what it is he wants. 

“So, how have you been? I know we just saw each other two weeks ago, but—how’s work?”

You sigh at Peter’s question, resting your chin against your palm.

“Fine, I guess. Work is cutting hours since things are slow right now, so I’m gonna be pretty strapped for cash the next month or two.”

Peter blinks at your response, staring at you over the edge of the menu.

“Should we be here then? We could just get the check now and go down the street to the bodega—”

“No—no, it’s fine,” you reassure him, taking a sip from your glass. From the look of it, Peter can tell the glass is filled with rum and coke—your simple, yet timeless go-to. 

“This is kind of my last hurrah, y’know? Gotta get one last plate of carbonara in before I’m eating ramen and eggs for the next few months.”

“I dunno about that,” Peter responds. “Eggs are pretty expensive now—you might have to settle for canned tuna.”

You roll your eyes at him, yet can’t help the little giggle that escapes you.

“You’re the worst.”

“I know,” he says with a smile.

The waitress wanders back over, and you and Peter put in your orders. Peter also opts to get a drink (after all, if you’re drinking, why shouldn’t he), and a few minutes later, a cosmopolitan is placed onto the table in front of him.

You watch him with a wide smile as he picks up the girly drink and takes a long sip—his pinky sticking out and everything.

“You and your love of sweet drinks,” you say, swirling around the ice in your half-empty glass. Peter hums happily.

“Listen, this is way better than beer.”

Honestly, you can’t disagree.

“So,” he continues, picking up the previous topic. “Are you gonna be okay? Money-wise?”

It’s not like he has much help to offer. Being a masked vigilante doesn’t pay very well, after all, but still.

“Yeah,” you assure him. “I have a side-gig that brings in a little cash-flow, so that’ll help cushion the blow. But I think I should still be able to afford rent and some groceries. I’ll just have to budget better, y’know?”

Peter nods. “Oh, okay. Good—,” but then his brain repeats the phrase “side-gig”, and his words cut off.

“Wait, what kind of side-gig are we talking about here?”

Despite how long the two of you have known each other, Peter has never heard anything about any kind of “side-gig”. It’s a little concerning, honestly, since the two of you don’t really keep secrets from each other.

Although it’s not like you know he’s Spiderman.

“Yeah. It’s nothing illegal, I promise,” you tell him, your attitude remaining pleasant. Peter stares at you, waiting for you to say more, but your smile only grows wider.

“Not telling,” you say, laughing quietly to yourself when Peter huffs in annoyance and grabs his drink. “You’ll just have to trust me. I’d never do anything illegal—you know me.”

“I dunno,” he responds, a playful lilt in his tone. “In college I seem to remember you stealing soft drinks from the mess hall without paying—”

“Oh c’mon,” you shoot back, and Peter grins, knowing you hate when he brings that up. “We were already paying to go to classes! Why should I pay 3 dollars for a cup of watered down coke?!”

Peter laughs as you go on a mini tangent about how college is a ripoff—ordering both you and him two more drinks when your waitress stops in to check on your table.

After a short while, your food comes out, and the two of you catch up over the hot meal. Conversation flows like normal—touching on any other life updates, and also local news topics, and things of the like. 

At your insistence, Peter splits a tiramisu with you to close out the evening, and by the time the dessert is gone, Peter thinks he may explode.

“Ugh, why did I let you talk me into that?” Peter groans, curling over and holding his stomach as you fetch enough cash from his wallet to cover half the bill.

“Well, if you were smart like me, you would have kept half of your entree to take home with you for later, and then you would have had enough room left for dessert. Which, by the way, is too good to waste—so don’t puke it up.”

Your waitress swings by to grab the bill, and you assure her it’s all set—passing her the small stack of money taken from both your and Peter’s wallets. She thanks you with a smile, and then scurries away, leaving the two of you alone.

You reach over the table, patting Peter’s shoulder.

“You’ll be fine. Your stomachs gotten bigger, after all.”

“Hey—,” Peter frowns, lifting his head. You’re already grabbing your purse and takeout box—sliding out of the booth. He quickly follows after you.

“Are you calling me fat?”

“No,” you respond, holding the door open for him as the two of you step out into the cool New York air. “You’re actually still surprisingly in-shape for someone whose diet consists of pizza and frozen meals. But, that being said, you can’t deny you’ve put on a few pounds.”

Peter places a hand on his stomach.

“Remind me again why you’re so mean to me?”

You can’t help but laugh, the sound getting lost in the crowd around you.

“You just make it too easy,” you admit, grinning up at him. Despite himself, Peter smiles back.

Being the gentleman that he is, Peter fully intends to escort you back to the doorstep of your apartment building, but—

His spidey senses tingle, and he can tell something is off. 

“Hey, um,” Peter grabs your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. Before your brain can even catch up, he’s yanking you into a quick hug, and then backpedaling towards the alleyway the two of you had just passed.

“Sorry, I just remembered there’s something I have to do. It was nice seeing you! Let’s touch base soon!”

He’s gone before you can even get a word out, disappearing around the corner. You stare after him for a moment, befuddled, and then continue on your way with a sigh. 

Same ‘ol Peter.

Exactly one hour later, Peter collapses in a pile of trash—his lungs heaving, and body aching. The fight itself hadn’t been that hard—just a few wannabe criminals with deadlier than normal weapons. 

No, the real challenge had been not barfing up his dinner while doing acrobatics across the city.

And maybe laying in a pile of trash to take a breather isn’t exactly helping his current predicament, but fuck—he doesn’t have the energy to move right now

Spreading out his limbs, Peter stares up at the smog-coated night sky, his mind wandering. He thinks about a lot of things—all the villains he’s fought in his time as Spiderman, the people who have come in and out of his life during it all, including you. You…who apparently has a “side-gig”.

…but like, what kind of side-gig?

Peter groans, knowing he won’t be able to let this go. 

You can’t just drop the knowledge that you have a secret side-gig on him and then not tell him what it is! 

And if you’re insistent on keeping it a secret, it must be something bad, right? RIGHT??

“Goddammit,” he grumbles, picking himself up. He swings off into the night, his mind reeling.

Peter lasts all of 3-days before he decides he can’t be left alone with his thoughts anymore—that he just needs to confirm what exactly your side-gig is, before his theories can get any wilder.

Because so far, his top guesses are that you’re either 1. Unknowingly acting as a middle man for some illegal trafficking operation, or 2. Providing “services” to New York sleazebags to get in their wallets.

And Peter knows it’s likely neither option—you’re too smart to get roped into something stupid. Plus, you had assured him it was nothing illegal.

But if he doesn’t figure it out, he thinks he may explode. 

So…he goes snooping. 

It’s not his brightest moment—using the spare key you had given him “in case of emergency” to sneak into your apartment one evening. (But to be fair, to him…this might just be an emergency).

He’d used his spidey senses to scope out your apartment before coming in, so he knows you're not home. Which is good, but…he doesn’t know when you’re gonna be back either, so he has to move fast.

Softly closing the front door behind him, Peter tip-toes across your apartment, deciding to start in your bedroom. He stands in the doorway for a moment, guilt bubbling up inside of him, but he decides to push forward anyway.

He’s just making sure you’re okay, he tells himself. You’re one of his closest friends, and you won’t tell him your secret—so it’s understandable he’d be worried.

Like the true Sherlock that he is, Peter starts with you dressers. He quickly checks each drawer—gently lifting up the stacks of clothes to make sure nothing is hidden beneath them. (The only time doesn’t is when he encounters the drawer with your bras and panties. He simply stares at them with flushed cheeks, rocking awkwardly on his heels, before he quietly closes the drawer. Surely nothing would be in there anyway, right?)

The small stack of papers on your nightstand ends up being recent receipts, and a manual on how to use the white noise machine you've apparently just purchased, considering it's sitting on the floor beside your nightstand, still in the box.

Getting on his hands and knees, Peter does a quick check under your bed, and freezes when he spots a covered box. He pulls it out without thinking, tugging off the fabric lined lid—

—and immediately slams it back down.

…veiny, pink, silicon—

Peter haphazardly pushes the box back under the bed, hurrying to his feet. He bustles into the kitchen with cherry-colored ears.

All-in-all, it takes Peter about half an hour to search your apartment, and unfortunately…he comes up empty handed. It seems like you have nothing to hide (except a box of sex toys under your bed, but Peter thinks that’s pretty understandable. You don't want dumb assholes like him accidentally finding it, even though Peter had—)

Sighing, Peter takes one last glance around your apartment.

“Ugh, I shouldn’t have done this,” he sighs to himself, taking a step towards the door. But—not watching where he’s going, he stubs his toe into the leg of your coffee table.

A curse leaves his lips, and your opened laptop—which had previously been dark—jolts to life. Kicking the table must have moved your wireless mouse, Peter realizes.

Having already decided to leave, Peter fully intends to continue on his way. That is…before he takes a glance at your computer screen and sees that you have it open to a Google doc titled: “Spiderman x Reader Commission #6”.

…then, he’s scrambling onto your couch and yanking your laptop towards him.

“Number six??” he hisses dramatically, his eyes scanning over the document so fast that he doesn’t actually end up reading anything. 

He has to pause and go back to try again, but the second Peter reads the sentence “Spiderman’s cock strains painfully against the tight confines of his suit, his fingers twitching against your waist as he drags you in closer”, his brain effectively blue screens.

In a panic, he clicks into a different tab that’s open—landing on your email inbox, where a thread sits open. A transaction between you and an apparent “customer”. Someone who had contacted you in regards to your open “commissions”. 

Hi there! 

I saw you’re accepting commissions, and I really enjoyed reading the other Spiderman fics you wrote! Would you be open to writing one for me? Preferably a Reader x Spiderman, and a smut/fluff genre. Based on the rate sheet, I think I can afford it, but I’d appreciate it if we could talk more and discuss the final price based on the idea I have.

Thanks!

Holy shit, Peter realizes. Your side-gig is writing Spiderman porn on commission.

He sinks back into the couch, his mind whirling. 

How long has this been going on?? Do you…are you attracted to Spiderman?? As long as Peter has known you, you’ve never really fangirled over Spiderman. If Spiderman had popped up in the news, the two of you would talk about him, but…that was it.

And now you’re writing Spiderman smut for cash? Holy hell.

Peter supposes he should be relieved that what you’re doing truly isn’t illegal. That you’re just making money in a mostly innocent way, from the safety of your home. Meaning, Peter can call it quits, and leave.

…but instead, he leans forward, clicks back onto the Google doc tab, and starts reading more.

The document is still a work-in-progress, but Peter scrolls back up to the top, wanting to see how you’ve managed to set up this scenario.

As it turns out, a villain had injected Spiderman with some sort of aphrodisiac, and the reader is a bystander, bravely offering Spiderman her services to get him out of this pickle.

While embarrassing to admit, Peter gets sucked into the story—impressed by your ability to write, and your portrayal of him—err, Spiderman. In fact, he gets so distracted by the story and the multitude of thoughts running through his head that his spidey senses don’t kick in until danger is right on his doorstep.

Or, in reality, you are on your doorstep—your key shoving into the lock on the door. 

Peter’s heart nearly rockets out of his chest, his eyes darting to the window across the room. It’s closed, and even if he used his web shooter to rocket over to it, he wouldn’t be able to safely open the window and escape outside in the two seconds it’s going to take you to finish unlocking your do—

Before he can even finish the thought, your front door shoves open, and you flick on the lights—your gaze immediately finding Peter, who is still firmly planted on your couch, looking like a deer in headlights. 

You stare at him in shock.

“Peter? What…? Why are you here?”

“I was…worried about you,” Peter responds, forcing himself to smile. And it’s not like it’s a lie.

“You said you were strapped for cash, and I…I just wanted to make sure everything was okay.”

You kick the door shut behind you, your purse and keys discarded on the small table beside your entryway. 

“I thought I told you to just trust me?”

You face him with a hand posed sternly on your hip. You appreciate his concern for you, but it’s a little upsetting that he hadn’t just been able to trust your word. 

“I know,” Peter responds with a sigh. He runs a hand through his graying hair, and your gaze flits to his ears, noticing how red they are. Why is he so flushed?

“And I’m sorry. I’m dumb, I should have. Trusted you, I mean. I’ll just—,” he pushes himself up, planning to excuse himself and run, but freezes half way to his feet. 

He’s half hard. Fuck.

If he gets up now, it’ll be a lot harder to hide that—especially since he’s wearing sweatpants.

Making a lil noise, Peter eases himself back down onto your couch. You cock an eyebrow.

“...you okay?”

“Yeah, sorry…back spasm.”

“Well, you don’t have to rush out. You’re welcome to stay for a while if you don’t have anywhere to be.”

You flash him a smile and turn towards the kitchen. Peter watches you as you open your fridge and bend down—fetching two bottles of water from the bottom shelf. His eyes glue to your ass the second you lean over, and Peter punches himself in the knee—forcing his gaze up towards the ceiling.

He’s going fucking insane. He’s not used to being this…feral feeling. Arousal is usually one of the emotions that evades him nowadays, but here he is—done in by fucking Spiderman fanfiction. 

Who knew he’d get turned on reading about himself fucking some nameless woman? And who knew that arousal would make him thirst after you?

(Honestly, if he thinks about it, it’s not that surprising. The two of you have been friends for years, and he feels comfortable around you. Not to mention, you’ve always been attractive, even if you do like to push his buttons—)

“Here,” you say, snapping him out of his internal panic. You plop down onto the couch next to him, handing him one of the two bottles of water. 

Peter reaches out to take it, and you notice the sweat beading on his brow. Why the hell is he—?

At that moment, you spot your laptop on the coffee table—open, and still showing the commission document you’d left open earlier on. Your first instinct is to reach over and slam your laptop shut before Peter can see—

…wait.

Peter reaches forward to take the water bottle from your grasp, but when he grips it, you don’t budge.

Confused, he looks up—only to find you intensely staring at him.

“Did you read it…?”

Peter’s face heats up, his eyes darting to the side to avoid looking at you.

Busted…

You pulse races, embarrassment blooming in your chest.

HE DID, you realize. HE READ IT. Your fucking Spiderman smut!

“Ah, shit…,” you mumble, letting go of his water bottle and crumpling in on yourself. You curl onto your side, hiding your face in the couch cushion. 

Feeling horrible that he has embarrassed you—having discovered something you’d tried to keep private—Peter hurries to try and smooth over the situation.

“Okay, yes, I did read it,” he starts by saying. “But…it was…really good! You’re a good writer, and I can see why people are commissioning you! You’ll surely make some cash with the skill you have.”

If he was smart, he’d have stopped there, but no—Peter keeps going.

“A-And hey! I’d be willing to help too. Y’know, help give you some inspiration for your stories—”

His voice dies in his throat, realizing what it is he has just offered. And obviously, you realize it too—your head immediately lifting, staring at him with curious surprise.

“Did you just…offer…to fuck? To help me with my stories?”

The insinuation is so insane that you can’t help laughing. Peter coughs, straightening his shoulders out.

“I think I’d be very good inspiration for Spiderman.”

“Really?”

There’s disbelief in your voice. Peter narrows his eyes.

“You don’t think so?”

You hum, uncapping your water bottle and taking a swig. Peter mirrors you, his throat feeling dry.

“Spiderman is…suave and heroic, and you’re…dorky. Smart, but dorky.”

Peter frowns. “I can be…suave.”

You cock an eyebrow, a playful grin breaking out on your face. Your heart is racing a million miles an hour, because never did you think you’d be sitting here with Peter, the possibility of sex between the two of you suddenly laid out on the table. You’d never deny he’s an attractive male, and maybe because it’s him, and because you’ve missed the feel of another human being, you end up saying—

“Yeah? Show me then.”

You lean back, waiting to see if Peter will make a move. 

Unfortunately, the realization that you’re open to whatever is happening right now causes Peter’s brain to stall, and he takes a second too long to act—just long enough to allow doubt to worm its way into your head.

You’re putting him on the spot. And he’s still probably dealing with some complicated feelings from the split—you shouldn’t have poked him.

Without saying anything, you decide to try and create some space. You push off of the couch, padding towards your bedroom. You’ll make an excuse about needing to fold your clothes, or something stupid—and hopefully Peter will take what you’ve said as a joke, and will move on. Yeah, that sounds like a solid plan—

Pausing in the doorway of your room, you force yourself to smile, and turn to face Peter—only to find that he’d snuck up on you—your gaze meeting his chest the second you turn around.

“Pe—,” you’re only able to get the first syllable of his name out, your chin tilting back as you look up at him. The feeling of his palm cupping your cheek is what makes your voice die out, his chestnut eyes boring into you. 

You can see the hesitation on his face. A certain lack of confidence that you’re sure stems from his past relationship issues. But beneath that, you can see desire. A craving for intimacy he hasn’t shared in a long time.

You decide to be the one to close the gap—pressing onto your toes, your palm resting flat on his pec as you lean upward—connecting your lips with his. You can feel his heart racing beneath your fingertips, and you silently convince yourself that if Peter backs out, you’ll be fine with it. 

Luckily, he doesn’t. His brain finally kicks into gear, his arm wrapping tightly around your waist as he kisses you back. 

You make a pleasantly surprised little sound, your arms lifting to wrap around his neck—effectively deepening the kiss. A wrinkle appears between Peter’s eyebrows, his grip on your waist tightening. Your chest presses flat against his torso, and he rubs his thumb against your cheek, obsessed with the plushness of your lips and the feel of you against him.

It’s been way too long since he’s been intimate like this…that’s apparent by the blood absolutely rockets into his dick.

Although, to be fair, he’d already been half-hard before this.

“You think our local hero gets hard this quick?” you mumble against his lips with a grin, giggling when Peter makes a noise of annoyance and nips at you.

“You’d be surprised,” he responds. He slots his thigh between your knees, backing you into the doorframe. His clothed cock grinds against your stomach, trapped between your bodies, and his muscles tense.

“Adrenaline can go straight to the dick sometimes…”

(Peter has lost track of how many times, after an intense fight—especially earlier in his career—he’d swung home and immediately jerked off).

“That’s fair, I suppose.”

Your fingertips coast up the nape of his neck, tangling in the messy hair at the base of his skull. You yank him downward ever so slightly, your lips connecting with the skin of his neck. He immediately shivers, the first of many embarrassing sounds ripping from his chest as you lick and suck at his flesh.

“Think Spiderman whimpers?”

You’re teasing him. As to be expected, given the dynamic of your relationship. But Peter doesn’t intend on taking it quietly.

“Maybe,” he admits, “If you make him feel good enough. But if you wanna know what I think—”

Peter surprises you by ducking down—his arms looping around your thighs as he lifts you off the floor. Your squeal, arms and legs instinctively wrapping around him since you don’t want to fall, but Peter carries you easily enough—striding into your room and depositing you onto your bed.

He doesn’t waste any time—quickly caging you down. His knee reclaims its spot between your thighs, rubbing incessantly at the dampening fabric covering your privates, and his lips find your neck—a shiver raking up your spine as his stubble scratches against your skin.  

“Peter,” you gasp when his fingers slip beneath the hem of your shirt. His fingertips ghost over your heated skin, brushing past your waist, and finding the clasp of your bra. You have to arch to give him room to work, and Peter sucks a hickey of approval into your neck. He debates telling you “good girl”, but the thought leaves him the second your bra pops open.

He needs your tits in his mouth.

“—I think Spiderman has a thing for boobs,” Peter says, finally finishing his earlier statement. This exclamation is followed with the immediate removal of your shirt and bra—Peter forcibly tugging them over your head and discarding them on the floor beside your bed. 

The sight of Peter groping you and lowering his mouth to your chest is enough to have your heart skipping a beat, and you can’t help the mewl that leaves you when Peter sucks one of your nipples into his mouth.

Peter groans when your fingers fist in his hair, practically keeping his mouth trapped where it is, which he hardly minds considering he intends to lick and suck at your tits until you’re panting. 

And, that’s exactly what he does.

He lavishes your chest with his mouth—relishing in the way your hips jump at each little nip of his teeth or roll of your nipple between his fingers. It’s embarrassing, honestly, how wet it gets you—your panties feeling quite wet as you continue grinding your pussy against Peter’s thigh.

You try and think of some smart response in regard to Peter’s opinion that Spiderman is a tit man, not an ass man, but words seem to be avoiding you. You can’t think of anything coherently when Peter is touching you like this. Especially when his face finally leaves your chest, his lips peppering kisses down the length of your torso.

You lift your head to look at him, propping up on one of your arms. Peter reaches your navel, but doesn’t stop, heading towards—

“Peter,” you pant, your face flushing hotly as you realize the path he’s carving. 

Peter hums, his eyes flitting up and meeting your gaze just as he hooks his thumbs beneath the band of your pants. 

“Another thing about Spiderman…,” he begins, kissing the skin of your tummy as he inches your waistband down your hips. You watch him with blown-wide eyes, chest rising and falling rapidly—excitement and nervousness mingling inside of you.

You lift your ass off the mattress to help him shuck you of your bottoms, and Peter smiles, tossing your pants on the floor beside your other clothes.

Never in your life did you imagine the sight of Peter sinking to his knees, his hands gripping your hips and dragging you closer to him—his gaze falling between your legs. Your panties are soaked, and the sight causes more blood to rush into his dick. He’s so hard that it honestly hurts—just a little bit—but Peter still doesn’t touch himself, because—

“...Spiderman loves eating pussy.”

“He’s a people-pleaser,” you quip breathlessly, your thighs quivering in Peter’s hold when he presses a kiss to your skin, right beside your panty line. He quietly chuckles.

“Maybe.”

Peter thumbs at your clit through your panties, relishing in the whine he rips from your throat. You hips buck in his hold, craving more, and when Peter sees the desperate look on your face, he decides to not tease you.

Peeling your panties to the side, Peter finally connects his mouth with your pussy—his tongue licking a wet, broad strip between your folds.

Oh, shit, you think to yourself, the muscles in your abdomen convulsing as you watch one of your closest friends eat you out. The whole situation is making you feel light headed, so you can’t help it when you collapse back onto the mattress, your fingers fisting in the sheets as Peter groans into your cunt.

He eats you like a man starved, his face quickly becoming covered with your arousal. His nose bumps against your clit as his tongue sinks between your walls, and you full out whimper—your hips needily grinding against his mouth.

Peter’s palm presses down on your pelvis, forcing your hips to the mattress. He doesn’t want you squirming—just wants you desperate and pliant. To see you cumming on his tongue.

His name falls from your lips again, more debauched than he’s ever heard, and Peter curses.

“Shit.”

His tone is guttural, and sexy, and—

He presses a finger inside of you.

“Oh, fuck, Pete—,” his name deterorates into a moan, your brain function declining as Peter begins fucking his finger inside of you. At the same time, he focuses his mouth on your clit, his tongue urgently flicking against the bundle of nerves. 

You unconsciously wriggle at the assault of stimulation, but Peter’s hand on your stomach keeps you in place.

Why is he so strong? You think to yourself, moan ripping from your chest as Peter slips in a second finger. It doesn’t take him long to locate that spongy little sweet spot inside of you. The one that causes your thighs to shake as he practically abuses it—rubbing the pads of his fingers against it repeatedly until you’re nearly sobbing.

The coil in your belly winds tight, heat searing your veins. You can feel your clit throbbing against Peter’s tongue, and the walls of your pussy tightening up around him.

“Peter,” you cry, your entire body trembling. You’re so fucking close.

“Cum,” he rasps. He needs to see you orgasm—needs to feel you unraveling on his mouth and fingers. 

Hearing the gravel of his voice is the final nail in your coffin—the tension in your muscles releasing as your orgasm washes over you. Just as he wanted, you cum all over him, your cunt gushing arousal around his fingers as his tongue continues lapping at your clit, dragging out the waves of your pleasure until you’re panting and pawing at his head, trying to push him away.

After a moment, he relents—sitting back to look at you.

You’re covered in a sheen of sweat, your chest heaving, and an arm draped over your eyes. Your tits are peppered with an array of hickies, and Peter feels his chest (and cock) swell with pride. He’s clearly done a number on you. And yet…

You feel the mattress dip, and then the room is spinning around you. When things finally settle, you find yourself laying on top of Peter.

He has one arm wrapped around your waist, his palm resting on your ass. The other brushes a few stray strands of hair out of your face when you lean back to look at him.

“Spiderman also loves being ridden,” he says with a grin. You place your hands on his chest, feeling it rumble with laughter as he watches you struggle to sit up.

“You think I have the energy to ride you after you just did that? And why do you keep saying Spiderman enjoys these things like they’re facts—you don’t know.”

“Just a feeling,” he responds, licking his lips. His hands find your hips, and he grinds you downwards. Your sensitive pussy rubs against his aching length, still trapped behind his sweatpants, and it’s hard to miss the way Peter harshly swallows at the feeling.

You sigh, scooting backwards.

“Fine.”

You shove his sweats and boxers down his thighs, careful to not snag them on his dick. And damn, he really must be aching—a sticky string of precum dripping from the head of his cock, and pooling on his abdomen. 

He opens his mouth, but you don’t give him the chance to say anything. Your fingers wrap around his cock, smearing his arousal across his length, and whatever Peter had been planning to say crumbles into a needy garble of non-words.

You can’t help but smile at the sound.

“Surprised you didn’t cream your pants already,” you tell him, but your tone is hardly teasing. No, seeing him beneath you like this—the muscles in his torso clenching with every stroke of your hand—it’s actually quite endearing.

“I’ll cum in your hand if you keep doing that,” he pants, glancing into your eyes. You spot nothing but lust there, any previous reservations gone.

“Is that so bad?” you ask, thumbing at the head of his cock. Peter’s grip on your waist tightens, and you hear him take a shaky breath.

“Yes.”

He wants to be inside you, that much is clear. And while it’d be so easy to draw it out and make him beg…you don’t feel like being mean to him. Not tonight, after he’d just given you the best oral of your life.

“Fine,” you relinquish. You scoot forward, planting one hand on his chest, and gripping the base of his cock with the other. Peter’s breath catches when you rub the head of his cock between your folds, a heady groan following a beat later as you begin sinking down onto him.

By the time his cock is fully inside of you, your thighs are shaking. Whether from the lack of energy due to your previous orgasm, the remarkable size of Peter inside of you, or both—you’re not totally sure.

“There’s no rush,” Peter reassures you, but the needy warble of his voice betrays his words.

“My legs might give out at some point,” you respond with a breathless laugh, and Peter echos you, giving your waist a squeeze.

“That’s fine. I’ll help.”

With your palms planted firmly on his chest, you begin to ride him. 

And god, you feel so fucking good.

“Fuck,” Peter bites out, watching the space between your bodies, where his cock disappears inside of you with every roll of your hips. It’s been ages since a cunt has squeezed his dick like this, and honestly, he can see himself very easily getting addicted to the feel of you.

The bounce of your tits as you ride him, the cute little sounds you make when his cock rubs against the sensitive spots inside you—he feels like he’s going crazy.

“Peter,” you whine, your pace flattering. Having his cock inside of you is incomparable to the feeling of his fingers, and very quickly, you can feel another orgasm building, but…the closer you get, the more your strength falters.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he responds, praises falling from his lips. “You’re doing so good. You feel so good.”

His words cause your walls to clench around him, and he groans—his hands sliding down to your hips as he helps rock you down onto his cock. The sloppy sound of sex fills your bedroom, and you watch Peter with half-lidded eyes, soaking up the desperation showing on his face. 

His hair is slicked back with sweat, brows pinched together in concentration as he forces you to continue riding him. At least, until he starts craving more.

With his orgasm quickly approaching—despite the immense pleasure he gains seeing you bouncing on top of him—Peter’s hunger gets the best of him.

He grabs your wrists, moves your arms so they’re wrapped around his shoulders, and then secures his arms around your back. Before you can even digest the slight change in position, Peter is fucking you.

An incoherent string of noise slips past your lips, your fingernails digging into his shoulders as his cock pistons inside of you. With his arms trapping you against his chest, you’re helpless but to take it—your orgasm rushing to the surface at the desperate yet brutal pace that Peter sets.

“Peter,” you sob into his neck.

“It’s okay,” he responds without missing a beat, his voice breathless. “I’m right there. Cum for me again, sweetheart.”

As if you could stop.

Holding onto him for dear life, you cum for the second time that night—your walls clamping down on his cock so tightly that Peter’s rhythm falters. A curse rips from his throat, and his hands find the plush of your ass—stuffing your body down onto his dick as he cums along with you—pumping you full of his seed.

The needy tension of the room melts away, and you and Peter can only lay there—a pile of sweaty yet sated flesh. It takes you both a minute to catch your breaths, and you make a quiet noise of disappointment when Peter’s cock slips out of you. 

You can feel his cum running out of your pussy.

“Your balls aren’t dried up yet?”

Peter’s chest rumbles beneath you.

“I’m in my 30’s, not my 60’s.”

You glance up at him when you feel Peter’s fingers clearing the hair away from your face, and he smiles at you. Your heart jumps.

He must know how handsome he is, right? Even with that crooked nose of his.

“Don’t you ever get tired of taking cracks at me?” he wonders, using his grip on your ass to slide you farther up his chest. You giggle, cupping his cheeks as you find yourself suddenly face to face with him. 

“Mmmm, no?”

He rolls his eyes, yet his smile widens. You lean down to kiss him, and he reciprocates easily enough.

“Feeling good?” you ask him, carding your fingers through his hair. He nods.

“Very. I…really missed that.”

“Same,” you agree, sitting back. You need to get to the bathroom before any cum gets on your nice sheets. You crawl off of Peter, swinging your legs over the side of your mattress. He rolls onto his side, watching you with furrowed brows as he tucks his dick back into his pants.

“Same? You haven’t—?”

“Not in a while,” you admit, pulling a fresh shirt and a pair of panties from your dresser drawers. You’re about to make a joke that the only action you’ve gotten recently is from the toys stashed under your bed, but when you turn to look at the spot where they’re hidden, you find that…the box has moved. It’s not where you had left it.

“Did you…find my sex toys? Before I came home?”

Peter’s face goes carefully blank, but the red flush of his ears betrays him. 

You shoot him a glare, leaving your room with a huff.

“Dude doesn’t trust me…how fucking rude…”

“Hey now—!” 

Peter’s feet pound against the floor as he chases after you, and he catches you around the waist just before you make it into your bathroom. His lips press against the crown of your head.

“Again, I’m sorry for snooping. I’m dumb.”

You sigh, wriggling around to face him.

“You are,” you agree, lightly patting his chest. “Dumb, and insistent that Spider man loves tits, eating pussy, and getting ridden. Still holding those beliefs?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Peter grins. “And I have other beliefs about his preferences as well.”

“Of course you do,” you laugh. You kiss his cheek, and then step out of his hold—heading into the bathroom. 

“I’m going to shower,” you tell him. “There’s some leftovers in the fridge if you want any.”

Peter nods, and the last thing you see is him heading for your fridge when you close the bathroom door.

30 minutes later, you exit your steaming bathroom in your fresh oversized t-shirt and panties, fully expecting to find Peter lounging around your apartment, eating all your food. But…to your utter disappointment, you don’t spot him anywhere.

You sigh, shoulders sagging. Had it been too much to assume he would have wanted to stay the night?

Shuffling into your kitchen, you spot an empty plate on your table. One that you know had previously been piled high with leftover chicken and potatoes.

“He eats my food and runs off…of course,” you mumble, picking up the plate to put it in the sink. However, before your annoyance can truly get the better of you, a piece of paper that had been stuck to the bottom of the plate floats to the ground.

You bend over to pick it up.

Hey!

Sorry, I wasn’t expecting to stay so long, so I left my apartment earlier without locking the door. I’m running back home to lock it, but I should be back at your place by 9!

Don’t get mad at me. I’d never run off without a word :p

-PB

PS. I have a working theory that Spiderman also has more stamina than you’d expect, even for a guy who’s been doing hero work for 20+ years, so…round two when I get back?

You can’t help but laugh.

What an idiot. 

But…you like him.

[serctcnia]

To Be Soft

Content: Angst | Alcohol use | AFAB tiefling reader | She/they pronouns

Word Count: 686

A/N: I finally got around to writing this based on the prompt I wrote in December! It's also not fully fleshed out but I wanted to post it anyway because Rolan <3. Gonna just say it's writing practice.

"Come to gawk, have you? The great Rolan besotted and wallowing in his self-pity." He sat his tankard down, wine sloshing out onto the counter and his robes. "Hells!" 

She sat on the stool beside him and reached for a rag on the counter in front of her. It was damp enough to possibly get the stain out without using prestidigitation so she handed it to him. "I've not come to gawk, I've come because I'm worried about you. You've done nothing but drink and yell at the children."

Taking the rag, he dabbed at the red splotch lazily until the rag was stained red. A groan of agitation fell from his lips as he realised it was useless to try to get it out. He tossed it back across the counter and looked at the woman beside him. "Don't you start too, ___. The hero has already tried to 'make me feel better,'" He rolled his eyes, pulling a half-empty bottle of wine toward him. "My entire family is missing because of our involvement at the grove, taken to gods knows where, so I believe I will sit here and drink." 

Scooting her stool closer to his, she put her hand atop his to gently pull the bottle toward her. "I know they are, Rolan, I’m sorry. But drinking isn’t going to make them come back any quicker. It’s only going to give you a migraine in the morning.” Rolan spread his fingers across the length of the glass, allowing her fingers to slip between his. His face grew red, then he felt a swell of anger. "They were - are - my responsibility and I will do everything in my power to retrieve them from - from wherever they are. If you had used an inkling of the power you have to fight their captors, Cal and Lia may be sitting here with us. Pardon me if I don’t take advice from a washed-up sorceress such as yourself."

He jerked the bottle from her, almost topping her from her seat, and brought it to his mouth. The more he drank, the more it began to sour on his lips. Fuck. He thought. Maybe she was right. “I’m sorry that I couldn’t do more, I really am. I should have fought harder.” She said as she moved her seat back. “But I miss them too, you know? I know how it is to lose your family so I thought we could talk as friends.”

He drank her in as she spoke. The curvature of her horns, the colour of her eyes in the candlelight, the small imperfections of her face, and the frown that curled on her lips. A frown he had caused. He was in the presence of a goddess, yet he spoke ill of her to her face. 

“Is that what we are? Friends?” 

“What? Of course we’re friends.”

Sliding the empty wine bottle to the side, he cast his gaze to the countertop. “That’s not what I want.” He wanted more. He wanted to be able to cry upon her shoulder, feel the softness of her lips against his temple as wept. He wanted her.

Her tail drooped, the end beginning to curl around her ankle. "Oh,” She paused, attempting to mask the hurt in her voice. “Very well. I’ll leave you be then, but please drink something other than wine. If you want to - nevermind. I’ll be in my room.”

As she stood to leave, she felt an unfamiliar sensation. Rolan had unravelled her tail from her ankle and began snaking his around her own. When their tails could no longer intertwine, he tugged her closer toward him with soft, almost imperceivable, purrs. Now standing at his hip, the tip of his tail brushed against hers in small circles, then up and down. 

"Don't go," He slurred. "Please." 

Despite her rapidly beating heart, she sat down and began to mimic the motions of his tail. Small circles, hearts, up and down, repeat. She could tell it was getting to him as she watched the lines of his eyes soften. 

“I’m not going anywhere.” 

[hellaadead]

Chapter Two - Stayaway

Dont buy TLOU | Daily Click | Series Masterlist

Kinks/Warnings: Canon-typical violence, canon-typical setting, death, mild language, barely proofread but edits have been made, use of Y/N (its only like twice dont kill me)

🎙️ Xan Says: I wrote this in somewhat of a rush because I’m afraid I’ll be super busy soon and I wont be able to update very much. So, with the time I do have, I’ll try as much as possible to put out as many chapters as I can in my free time. I don’t think I’ll be too focused on writing soon. Sorry chat!

W/C: 1.5K

You get closer to see the commotion. You practically ran over. Your arms drop to your sides once you realize that it is, in fact, Abby in the flesh. She immediately went to attack the guy with his hands on the girl; Yara or whatever her name was. He realized who it was in an instant. “Abby?” She didn’t say anything to him. Instead she goes back to hurt him even more. First head-butting him then taking him down and breaking his arm.

“Abby? What the fuck is wrong with you?” You yell out with a confused expression. The rest of your group runs around the area, searching for the others and the source of the voice. “Why the hell do you care?” She asks with a grunt. She’s now taking this guys pistol and beating him with it. “Yara!” Another small boy calls out. He’s rushing over to the girl who was laid out on the floor with blood dripping down her face.

“You went AWOL over these Scars? I dont understand.” You chuckled in disbelief. It didn’t necessarily have anything against the Scars, but you couldn’t believe these kids were the reason Abby suddenly decided to go rogue. “Yara, get up!” The boy continued.

You’re still looking at Abby for an answer, but she averts her gaze over to those kids she was looking after. The only sounds that fill the open space were thunder, rain and occasional gunshots. “Gunshots! Come on!” A soldier nearby yells. Their boots hit the ground hard, rain sloshing as they move with urgency.

“Abby, they’re gonna fucking kill you if they come over here.” Your heart rate speeds up for whatever reason. You’re scared for her and this isn’t even your issue. 

“Yara, please!” The boy cries. “Lev, we have to move.” Abby spoke gently to the boy as he’s leaning over (what you assume is) his sisters body, placing a hand on her shoulder as he looks down at her, sobbing. “There is nowhere to go. The island is surrounded. Had you been paying attention to literally anything you’d know there’s a raid going on today!” You stress.

Abby shoots you a look that says shut the fuck up, and you listen. You’re standing off to the side, still holding your pistol. The boy still didn’t want to leave her. Abby pulls him up despite his protests. “I see someone!” A soldier shouts.

Fuck. Now they were definitely screwed. And you might’ve been screwed too. Your world crashed down before you — somewhat. Were you  regretting being here now? Definitely. You looked like you helped her in killing this soldier. “I can’t leave her here!” The boy shouted. His words fall on deaf ears. Abby knows this pain. She knows it all too well. And even if he did want to wallow in the death of his sister, Abby would let him do it in a place that wasn’t like an active fucking warzone.

You’re planning on running with her when suddenly you’re surrounded. Soldiers come running from every corner of the thick forest. “Stay back.” Abby growls.

“Drop it! Now!” A female shouts. “Holy shit.” “It’s Abby! And.. Y/N?” The majority of the whispers and words being shared around the group were laced with disdain. You were guilty in their eyes despite being innocent. 

Abby holds Lev tight as if he’d fall through her fingers like sand had she let go. Your hands raise slowly after holstering your gun.

“I said stay back!” Abby shouts. Lev is still in her grasp.. albeit struggling to get free, but still. His eyes are watching Yara closely, never faltering. He seems to be checking for any signs of life. Her body remains motionless.

You had two options — to side with Abby or save your own ass. The second option would’ve been less likely to work because well, look at the mess you’re tangled in now. 

“Stand down!” You turn your head to figure out who’s voice it was, and also who had been approaching you two. Your heart race increases tremendously. No matter how this is framed, you’re still guilty. You’re still a traitor like Abby was. 

You weighed your options. You could either be a suck-up and make yourself seem like the perfect little angel who wouldn’t hurt a fly, or you could take her side.

Either way, you and her were both walking targets. You were surrounded by a barrage of people with guns, and you and her had no chance of hiding with the amount of flashlights on.

Issac emerges from the shadows of the forest. He’s disappointed. Abby is shocked. 

“Issac.” Her voice loses its previous malice, looking at the man with her mouth slightly agape. The gun in her hand that was previously being pointed at all the soldiers falters slightly now that Issac is here. 

“What the hell are you doing?” Issac questioned with furrowed brows and a perplexed expression. “More importantly, what the hell are you doing?”

His gaze fell on you. Your hands were still raised. “Wrong place, wrong time?” You said, cocking your head to one side. “I’m not joking. Were you planning on leaving with her?”

His voice was louder by an octave. “She didn’t do anything, Issac. Okay? This— this was all me.” Abby butts in, moving to the side slightly in an attempt to “protect” you.

You knew why she was doing it, and god how you craved to shout that you didn’t need saving because you didn’t, but you say nothing. You let her protect you.

You turn back to see Abby dropping her gun, pushing Lev to be right behind her. “I need you to hear me out.” She says, keeping her tone low. 

You can read the expression on Issac’s face — he looked disappointed, then confused, then pissed. It was something that kept your mind from thinking about how you could’ve just been shot dead right now. But it doesn’t stop your heart from racing so fast that it might fly out of your goddamn chest.

“What’s that behind you?” Issac is looking directly at Lev. Issac raised an eyebrow at the boy, who’d been looking him in the face aswell. He steps a bit closer to her.

Abby holds her hand out as if trying to subtly tell him that she’s not dangerous. “He saved my life.” She held his gaze even though she was scared. “Move outta the way, we’ll deal with you back home.”

Issac shoos Abby away from Lev. He’s trying to kill him. You want to say something — to defend her, to convince him that Lev is innocent but this wasn’t your place.

As shitty as you think it is at the moment, you’re letting Abby fight her own battles. Coming face to face with Issac and his intense confrontation. 

“He’s not one of them. Please.” Abby pleaded. “Abby, move.” Issac instructed. 

“Goddamnit, he’s just a kid!” She shouts. Issac didn’t wanna hear anything else she had to say. He pointed his gun towards her. 

You roll your eyes at Issac. Killing children? How unethical. Ethics were most certainly, definitely and obviously out of the question by now. 

Abby and Lev take a step back, and as did you. One of your hands comes down slightly to hover over your holstered pistol. You’re looking at Issac, studying his every move. 

A nearby soldier had taken notice of it. “Hey! Hands in the air!” A man shouts. He stepped forward so you could see him. Your hands return to being in the air.

“You have three seconds to get away from that Scar.” Issac’s voice cuts through the other chatter, his finger resting on the trigger of his pistol. 

“One.” “You really gonna shoot me?” Their voices overlap as Abby is attempting to stand directly infront of Lev. “Two.” The grit in his voice becomes more apparent.

“I’m not fucking moving.” Her voice is shaky, yet she remains stoic. Lev is looking over her shoulder, seemingly scared for her and himself. Understandable given the circumstances.

Before Issac shoots Lev, bullets fly and pierce Issac’s skin. He’s been shot once or twice. It happened too fast.

The group of soldiers erupted in a sea of profanities upon seeing Issac get shot and killed. 

You look to the ground to see that it had been Yaras doing. “What the hell?” You mumbled to yourself. “Shoot her!” They all shout.

They wasted no time shooting at her multiple times until she stops moving. Lev is in shock, as is Abby. 

You look between the soldiers you once knew as comrades and some as friends to the girl you’d spent most of your days hating.

You couldn’t look at them the same now. You take off running behind her without hesitation. “Abby!” You shout. “Stop them!” “Don’t let ‘em escape!” The soldiers shout.

“What the fuck are you doing, Y/N?” Abby shouts over the bullets that were flying towards her and.. and you. “Getting the fuck away from them. That’s what I’m doing. Accept help for once, Anderson.”

Taglist: @aouiaa @starlight-savegery @addthespaghetti (If you’d like to be added, just leave a comment. ^^)

[awarnin]

Hiiii queen!!! I love your work sm and you’re literally the only person writing for wallows at the moment so thank you for that!! Can I request a Braeden fic? Maybe something to do with comforting the reader or the reader comforting him? I’m honestly fine with whatever cause I know it’s gonna be amazing either way. Thank you!!💕

Do You Think So...? | BRAEDEN LEMASTERS X FEM!READER

synopsis: He doesn't know how to face an argument...

warning: angst, Braeden thinks everything is against him, anxiety. He argues with Dylan.

author's note: it hasn't even been 24 hours since this request was made omg when it comes to Braeden's angst im SEATED (i've been daydreaming about this for the last month lmao) thanks for your request and the compliments, baby. let me know what you think, i hope you like it <3

wordcount: 5.1k

.

You sit at the kitchen table, the warm light of the lamp above you casting soft shadows on the walls as you swipe your finger across your phone screen. The distant hum of the city filtering through the open window mingles with the soft whisper of the trees. You're waiting for Braeden to come back from his studio session with the guys, like he does every Thursday, when the sound of the door suddenly swinging open breaks the tranquility. The bang of the door slamming shut echoes through the house, and you hear hurried footsteps running up the stairs.

“Brae?” you call, setting your phone aside as you stand. There’s no response, but his body language says it all. You follow the sound of his footsteps, climbing the stairs one by one, a growing concern building in your chest. When you reach the hallway, you hear the bedroom door slam shut, followed by a muffled cry of frustration.

As you gently push the door open, you see him. Braeden is lying on the edge of the bed, his feet dangling in the air, and his eyes—those eyes that have always shown you strength and kindness—are now filled with helplessness. He looks at you like a wounded puppy, extending his hand toward you, seeking comfort.

“Oh, babe… What happened now?” you ask softly as you take his hand. You lie down beside him, feeling the weight of his emotions in the air, so thick it feels like you could cut through it. Your fingers find his hair, and you begin to stroke it, trying to soothe the storm in his mind.

“It’s the same as always… Dylan doesn’t listen to me,” his voice is barely a whisper, as if the words weigh him down. He falls silent for a moment, struggling to find the way to explain what he’s feeling. “I want to do one thing, he wants another, and…” He lets out a long sigh, and it feels as if the air leaves his body like he’s been holding his breath all day. “It’s suffocating,” he adds, his hand falling limply to his side as his eyes search yours, filled with uncertainty.

You keep stroking his hair, your gaze soft yet steady, trying to offer him reassurance. “And what did Dylan say about it?”

Braeden shifts slightly on the bed, his gaze lost on the ceiling. “He said it was fine, but…” he pauses, his eyes narrowing as if replaying the moment in his mind. “I know he was upset about it. I told him we could leave the song the way he wanted, but he told me no, that it was fine the way I suggested. But still… everything felt tense.”

You know Braeden hates conflict. He’d rather swallow his own words than get into an argument, and that’s what worries you most. Sometimes, his desire to avoid problems locks him in an emotional prison.

“Braeden…” you look at him, your eyes reflecting the sadness you feel for him.

“I know! I know what you’re going to say,” he interrupts, his voice rising a little, not out of anger but from frustration with himself. “You told me to stand my ground, not to give in so easily, but… God, it’s so hard. I don’t want him to be mad at me.”

You feel this is one of those moments when you need to be his anchor, so you take a deep breath before speaking. “Are you willing to sing songs you don’t like for the rest of your life just because you’re afraid of facing a small disagreement?”

Your words seem to hang in the air, heavy, but necessary. Braeden falls silent for a moment, his brows furrowed as if processing what you just said. You know he’s not someone who gives up easily, but the fear of disappointing others has always kept him bound.

“It’s not that…” he finally responds, his voice softer, more vulnerable. “I just… I don’t want him to think I believe his music is bad, and I don’t want him to end up singing songs he doesn’t like either.”

You sigh, understanding him more than he understands himself. “Brae,” you look at him tenderly, “if Dylan accepted your suggestion, it’s because he thought it was good, because he listened to you, he didn't do it because he felt obligated. The only one putting this pressure on yourself is you. Making music with your friends shouldn’t feel like this.”

Braeden keeps staring at the ceiling, processing your words. Slowly, he raises an arm and places it over his forehead, covering his eyes. “Do you think so?” he asks, his voice tired, but also carrying a small glimmer of hope.

“Yes, I do,” you respond firmly. “Music is a reflection of what you feel. You can’t keep suppressing your ideas out of fear of what others will think. You need to find a balance, and the guys will, too.”

Braeden turns toward you, his eyes tired but grateful. In that moment, he feels small, vulnerable, but also comforted by your presence. You take his hand again and squeeze it gently, giving him strength.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible.

You snuggle closer to him, wrapping your arms around him, feeling his breathing slowly deepen, becoming more relaxed. The atmosphere, once thick with tension, now feels lighter. The night outside carries on, but within that room, the world seems to pause for a moment, giving you both a much-needed reprieve.

Braeden closes his eyes, and you keep stroking his hair, knowing that for today, at least, you’ve managed to calm the storms in his mind.

.

[ramp-it-up]

I Still Have You

Paring: Chris Evans x Reader

Word count: 1.5 K

Summary: It’s a very pregnant Christmas for the Evanses.

Warnings: 18+ As always, MINORS DNI. RPF, SMUT. Not Beta’d. Flashbacks, discussion of miscarriages, grief, angst, beach vacay, piggy back ride, Kit cooking, family dynamics. Graphic depiction of pregnancy sex. Dunkin’. But mostly fluffy fluff.

A/N: This is for #DJ’sAllIWant4KChristmas and based on this ask. Also listen. Look me in my eyes. This was not easy for me to write and I don’t want to see any dumb comments about miscarriages. Heed the warnings. This is a part of the How I Met Your Father AU.

I no longer operate a taglist. Follow @rampitupandread to be notified when I post.

I Do NOT consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

Chris’s hand snaked around your baby bump and pulled you flush against his chest. You snuggled back against him and his hard body.

“Hmmmmm…G’morning.”

Chris buried his nose in your fragrant curls, your bonnet having come off in your sleep. You were less able to be comfortable as your pregnancy progressed, but luckily this pregnancy was healthy, despite the worry of the first few weeks.

You’d lost two pregnancies since you had the twins 12 years ago. You and Chris had been heartbroken, but decided not to try again and that your family was complete. You loved and lived life to the fullest.

However, when the twins were 12 years old, you discovered through a home pregnancy test that you were expecting again. It was right before your family trip last summer, and you were on edge for the first few days of the vacation.

You decided to tell Chris as you walked on the beach on the second evening.

“I have a secret to tell you, Chris.”

“What is it, Angel?”

Chris was a little concerned, you’d been jittery and moody. He stopped and looked at you in the light of the golden hour. You were so beautiful.

“Is everything okay?”

He reached for you and pulled you into his embrace. You relaxed into his strength, his warmth, and his smell. And you started crying.

“Chris. I…I’m… I’m”

“Shhhh. It’s okay. I know you’ve been stressed. What with the new position, the twins going to junior high and your cousin’s graduation and this trip.”

He kissed the top of your head.

“I see how exhausted you’ve been, falling asleep on the couch every night. That’s why I had hoped that you would take this opportunity to relax…”

“Chris. I’m pregnant.”

Chris didn’t believe he’d heard you. Your last pregnancy was over five years ago. He’d gone ten toes down for his perfect little family. And he didn’t know if he could go through that loss again. He knew you couldn’t.

Chris drew back to look you in the eye.

“What did you say?”

You looked into the deep blue pools of his eyes and took a deep breath.

“I’m pregnant.”

“But… how?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at him. He joined you.

“I mean…”

He grinned at you, your laughter making him stronger.

“Well, you’ve always had that super soldier sperm. And it’s rare, but vasectomies can fail…”

Chris just blinked at you.

“Oh my god. We’re gonna have another baby. When?”

Chris was absolutely giddy.

“I haven’t been to the doctor, but maybe in about eight months? January?”

Chris was still in shock.

“Boy or girl? Twins or just one?”

“Yep!”

You both broke down in laughter. You were beginning to think you could do this.

A jolt of joy suddenly struck Chris. He couldn’t wallow in grief; this was another chance.

He picked you up and twirled you around.

“CHRIS! CHRIS! I’m gonna throw up!”

You were laughing, but also about to hurl.

“Oh shit. I’m sorry. I just. I love you so much. And I love us. And the twins. And this bundle of joy in here.”

Chris’s warm palm covered your belly, and you reached up to kiss him, for a moment, all fear of loss gone.

He beamed down at you and you up at him.

“I love you too, Chris.”

You smiled at him again, and then hugged him.

“How are you? Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine!”

Chris looked back down the beach.

“It’s too far for you to walk back.”

“No, I’m…”

He turned around and bent down. He looked back at you over his shoulder.

“Get on.”

“Chris, you’re being…”

“Get on, Y/N.”

You sighed and climbed on his back. Chris easily stood up and set off toward the beach house. You put your chin in his shoulder and started to think as he effortlessly carried you back.

“Chris…”

“I know. We’ll wait until we go to the doctor to tell anyone.”

You nodded, grateful for the connection between you and your husband. After you told Chris, you were able to relax and enjoy the rest of the trip.

Telling the twins after you were past the 12 week mark was an experience.

“You two are disgusting.”

“Wynn Angel Evans! You need to watch your tone.”

“I’m sorry. But aren’t you both a little old for this?

Chris wasn’t having it.

“Do you want to go to your room until you’re as old as we are?”

Wynn got quiet, not used to harsh words from her dad. CJ was just silent. You sensed some warring emotions in him. You two had always been close. He looked at you with those eyes just like his dad’s and you knew. You cocked your head and CJ came to give you a hug. You held your arm out for Wynn, who sat on the other side of you, between you and Chris.

“Listen. I know this is a lot. And you’re right, I am older, but I’m not that old. But dad is.”

You nudged Wynn and laughed as Chris protested.

“Hey!”

Now there was laughter in the room.

“And neither of you have to worry that you will be replaced. We will love you forever. Our hearts will just get bigger.”

You looked from twin to twin.

“Yours will, too.”

Everyone calmed down a bit after that, catching the joy of a new life in the house. You took a sabbatical from work in order to take care of yourself.

That was over six months ago. You’d had a healthy pregnancy and were excited to meet the new member of the Evans family. At Christmas you were 37 weeks. So close.

You snuggled back onto Chris’s erection as he gently felt up your sensitive breasts. Your nipples pebbled as he pressed his lips to the side of your neck.

“What are you up to, Daddy?”

You felt Chris’s dick jump against your backside.

“I’m trying to make you feel good. Give you an extra present after yesterday’s festivities.”

Chris’s hand moved down your side and slid under your belly to slip his thick fingers into your panties.

You moaned as he found you wet and wanton, moving against his hand for more friction.

Chris gently but down on your pulse point, causing you to keen.

“Chris…”

“What do you want, Angel? What do you need?”

Chris was grinding against your panties, the wet tip of his cock promising something that he had yet to give you.

“You, Chris, Please…”

“Oh My beautiful girl, you don’t need to beg. This is always for you.”

As he whispered praises in your ear, Chris was lifting your thigh, pulling your panties to the side, and slowly entering you while laying down

“Oooohhhh….”

You arched and threw your head back onto Chris’s chest. The shudder as he entered you was inescapable.

“Dammmmmnnnnn, Angel. So so tight.”

Chris was fully seated inside of you and gripping your hip to keep control.

Lovemaking wasn’t vigorous anymore, but it was needed. And you knew that It would be a while after the baby came. You wanted to savor this connection.

“Ohhhh. Chrissy. Please. Give it to me…”

“Nnnnnnnghhhh!”

Chris moaned.

“You always have me wanting to lose control. Lose myself in you… My favorite thing.”

“Hmmmmm.”

You licked your lips as Chris started moving, him looking down over your shoulder as he watched you cream on his dick in the early morning light.

“Even after all these years?”

The kiss he gave you on your cheek would have been chaste, except that his huge cock was invading your fat, swollen, sensitive cunt.

“For many more to come, god willing.”

Chris started pumping a little harder now.

“Please, I want to die like this..”

Chris kissed the side of your neck as he rocked his cock deep inside you and his words made your heart swell and beat in time with his, and you started to climax.

“Ohhhh…ohhhhhhh, ohhhhh! Chris!”

“God you’re squeezing me… I can’t. I can’t hold it damn you make me…”

Chris thrusted for dear life as he emptied his seed into you. He lazily thrummed your clit, causing you to shudder as you came down.

A few minutes later, Chris carefully slipped out of you and led you to the shower, where he lovingly washed you both up. Your eyelids were drooping.

“Get some rest, mama. I’ll get you some food.”

One hour later, your growling stomach and kicking kid propelled you out of bed to the kitchen, where you caught the tail end of an argument between Chris and Kit who had come to Massachusetts with your family for Christmas. Wynn and CJ were watching, enthralled.

Someone (you guessed Kit) had tried to make pancakes in the microwave. What resulted was a rubbery mess.

“You really can’t cook, can you?”

Chris was grumbling as he cleaned up the mess.

“No shit, Sherlock. When in the 13 years that you’ve known me, have you known me to cook?”

Chris scowled.

“Then why did you say yes when I asked you to make breakfast for your best friend?”

“Because I will do anything for her. And don’t you forget it, Dude Bro.”

Kit was threatening Chris with a rubber pancake.

“How ‘bout we go to Dunkin’?”

You chuckled as you rescued your husband from certain doom.

Less than 24 hours later, Jack Arthur Evans was born, healthy at 7 lbs 8 oz two days after Christmas.

The moment everyone met him, no one could imagine the world without him.

When in doubt, reblog it out!

[harringtonstilinski]

Armageddon It - Eddie Munson (Smut) ; Teaser

Author: @harringtonstilinski​ Characters: Eddie Munson x Reader Word Count: 371 Warnings: none Requested: no | yes; Smut (Minors DNI): no | yes, 18+; eventually in the real fic once posted A/N: Hi, friends! Here's little teaser for the Eddie fic I was supposed to write for a challenge back in March with @stevesxyellowxsweater, but life ended up getting in the way, but I'm gonna finish it and post it in full, hopefully, soon!! If you like this, please do not hesitate to reblog and give some feedback, whether it be in the reblogs, comments, or my inbox. As always, read at your own risk and enjoy 😊

eddie munson masterlist

eddie munson playlist

You were already feeling a little tired, so agreeing to Eddie’s offer of watching a movie seemed like the next best thing. As you walked back into the trailer, you set your stuff back down on the small kitchen table before walking to the couch, plopping yourself down while releasing a deep breath before yawning, “What did you want to watch?”

“None of that rom-com shit you like to watch,” he chuckled.

“Well, none of that horror shit you like to watch,” you retorted, smiling at the end to show him that you were joking.

He chuckled, sitting down next to you after he popped a movie into the player, the remote in his hand. Putting his arm around the back of the couch, he smirked, the trailers playing on the screen, the brightness of the screen lighting up his features.

Looking from him back to the tv, you groaned, a small bit of fear crossing your features. “Eddie. I hate this movie. Why would you pick this movie?”

“What’s wrong with this movie?” he asked, tapping his heels on the floor, his legs having been spread since he sat down.

“It’s fucking creepy!” you whined. “And I feel bad for the little piggie!”

“Well, I, for one, like the Horned King.” “Of course you would. The Black Cauldron is right up your freaking alley.” Crossing your arms, you scrunch your brows, wallowing in your discomfort causing Eddie to lightly chuckle to himself.

Not ten minutes into the film, and you were burying your face into Eddie’s shoulder, your hands up by your cheek. “Oh, fuck!” you exclaimed. This made Eddie chuckle, his arm wrapping around your shoulders, making your face go from his shoulder to his chest, your eyes peeking out from between your fingers. 

“Turn it off, turn it off,” you whimpered as the Horned King spoke on screen.

“How I’ve thirsted to be a god,” the Horned King said.

“You’re fucking creepy as shit, man! You’re no god! You’re just a devil with horns!”

Laughing, Eddie tightened his grip on your shoulders. “That’s the point, babe.” He didn’t mean to use the nickname, it just slipped out. Not that it didn’t feel good rolling off of his tongue.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N 2:  hi, friends! i hope y’all liked this, and it got y’all excited for the rest of the fic!! i’m working as hard as i can to get it finished and posted. again, please do not hesitate to reblog and give some feedback, whether it be in the reblogs, comments, or my inbox.

Additional Note: i know that some of y’all are waiting to see your requests, and i promise i’ll get to them. the writer’s block hit really bad, and i've just been really focused on reading/listening to books.

~~~

Forever / Everything Taglist: @stiles-o-dylan24​​​ @stixnstripesworld​​​ @fandom-princess-forevermore​​​ @quanticobae​​​ @mischiefandi​​​ @kellyashcroft​​​ @lauren-novak​​​​

If you’re tagged and didn’t want to be, please let me know.

~~~

*Please don’t post my writing anywhere else without my consent. The author of this work will always and forever be @harringtonstilinski​.

All characters, story lines, and plot aside from y/n and her storyline & plot, are all of the work of The Duffer Brothers.

*These works contain material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited.

No part of these works may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher.

Posted on August 11, 2024

[hoe4almondmilk]

Little Things

Sonny Carisi x Fem!Reader

a/n: I’m like really sad and in my feelings so y’all know I gotta write my feelings out.

Warnings: just slight angst, relationship problems and some light arguing.

Sonny let out a deep huff as he watched you pack your suitcase. “Please, don’t do this, (y/n). I’m sorry! How many times do I have to apologize?” He pleaded. 

“When you actually start to mean it, Sonny.” You sniffled and continued to hustle around your shared bedroom. Finding things to pack up in your medium sized suitcase. 

You were honestly just packing up for a few days and staying with your sister in Staten Island but still you knew it was gonna be tough for both of you. You really didn’t want to be doing this but you needed a break. Both of you did.

“Please, (y/n) … I’m sure our reservations are still good. I’m sorry...” Sonny continued to beg.

“They’re not. It took me months to even get those.” You said coldly, trying to hold back emotions. 

You wanted to forgive him but how could you? This was your anniversary dinner that you and him had been planning for the past seven months. But, like the workaholic Sonny is, he completely forgot and picked up an extra shift. You knew if you had said no to him picking up the shift and reminding him, he would’ve gone. Key word: reminding him. You were constantly reminding him. Reminding him about dates and even small things like picking something up. You tried to forget those but your anniversary dinner? That was almost unforgivable. You shouldn’t have had to remind him about your anniversary. It was his marriage too. 

Sonny began to plead again, “I’m sorr- “

“Shut up!” You snapped. 

Sonny paused. His mouth slightly agape. He never heard you snap at him like that. He was in absolute shock. 

“If you were sorry, you would’ve remembered Sonny. If you cared enough, you would’ve put a reminder on your phone. You put reminders for everything else in your life, work, friends, I mean for God’s sake you had a reminder for Amanda’s birthday!” You cried. “It’s almost like you’re married to her sometimes...” 

“You know that’s not true...” Sonny replied. 

“What else am I supposed to think? It’s the little things, Sonny! This is starting to feel like the loneliest marriage.” You said as you zipped up your suitcase.

“Where are you going?” Sonny asked, tears forming at the corners of his eyes as he followed you to the door of your apartment.

“I’m going to my sister’s back in Staten Island. I really need a few days. I’ll be back Sunday.” You looked at him as you opened the door. 

“Please, just text me when you get there so I know you made it there safely. Please…” He said as he stared at you with those beautiful baby blue eyes of his. 

“Okay.” You sighed. “One thing though…” you paused as you grabbed Sonny’s hand and opened up his palm. He looked at you confused. You put it in his palm and closed it back up.

Sonny opened it and saw your wedding ring. Worry immediately colored his face. 

“You keep that while you really think about how much this marriage really means to you.” You said before you kissed his cheek and said goodbye. 

Sonny’s heart dropped to his stomach when the door closed. Truthfully, he wanted to open the door and chase you, beg you, anything to get you to come back but he knew it was far too late for that. He knew you needed this, he felt horrible thinking about how upset he made you. He closed his eyes and rested his forehead on the closed door momentarily. How could you guys come back from this? 

Sonny walked over to the couch and laid down face first. He hoped maybe if he closed his eyes he could wake up back to this morning and really change things. He slowly lifted his head when he felt his phone vibrate.

“Want to join us at Forlini’s??? :)”  Amanda said in a text message along with a selfie of her and the squad. 

Sonny contemplated, wondering if he should stay home and wallow in self pity or go try to take his mind off of this shitty evening. He could use a few shots. Also maybe he could get some womanly advice from Amanda and Olivia. Sonny stood up grabbed his coat, house keys and took off.

“There he is.” Amanda said as Sonny walked over to the bar and sat down.

“Hey, guys.” Sonny muttered greeting Fin, Amanda and Olivia. 

 “God, you look rough!” Amanda noticed how disheveled Sonny’s hair was and how bloodshot his eyes were.

Sonny could feel the tears welling up again. “(y/n) left me...” as he put his hand over his face wiping his tears.

Sonny could quickly see how fast everyone’s expressions changed. 

“What??” Amanda asked in complete shock., “Oh my god, what happened?” 

“Bartender, get this man some whiskey!” Fin shouted to the bartender. 

“What happened, Carisi? Last time I heard, you and (y/n) were doing good?” Olivia asked.

“Yeah, I thought so too…” Sonny said before he downed the shot of whiskey. “Well, we’ve all been busy with this huge case, and I completely forgot about our anniversary. She had gotten us reservations at this really nice French restaurant she’s been dying to try...”

“Your anniversary? Sonny, how the hell did you forget that?” Amanda griped. 

“Can’t say I blame her.” Olivia agreed as she took a sip of her wine.

“Okay, I know.” Sonny said frustrated, taking another shot. “I fucked up really bad this time.” He groaned. 

“Where is she?” Amanda asked.

“She left the apartment and said she was going to her sister’s house over in Staten Island.” Sonny sighed, trying desperately to swallow back the tears. “I’m scared she won’t come back.”

“How many shoes did she take with her?” Fin asked.

Sonny raised his brow in confusion. “The only shoes I saw were the ones on her feet.”

“She’ll come back.” Fin chuckled. “You should be worried when she comes back and takes all the shoes.” 

Well, that did give Sonny some peace of mind. You were a shoe fiend. You usually pack at least 4 pairs just on small trips.

Sonny knew he fucked up. He couldn’t even picture losing you. You were his everything. You were there since he went from detective to graduating law school and to where he is now, an assistant district attorney. You were there for him every step of the way. He had to fix this. He needed to make it right.

Amanda and Olivia looked at each other and smiled. Somehow telepathically communicating that they had the same idea.

“Look, we’re all gonna help you win her back cause frankly, none of us want to find you crawled up in a ball inside one of the filing rooms on Monday.” Amanda chuckled to Sonny. 

“And you know I don’t like comforting people.” Fin said, rolling his eyes as he took a sip of his drink.

“Oh, we both know that’s not true!” Olivia retorted.

“Hey, we don’t need to go spilling all of my secrets!” Fin grinned.

“Okay, so here’s the plan...” Amanda began. Explaining the perfect idea, she had to the squad.

Sonny couldn’t help but smile. He felt that warm fuzzy feeling in his chest. He really loved his squad.

….

It was finally Sunday morning. You walked up to your shared apartment with your husband and unlocked it with your keys. It was about 8 am and you expected Sonny to be asleep still or just waking up. 

“Sonny?” You called out. “I’m home.” Your eyebrow raised in confusion when you didn’t get a reply back. “Okay, then.” You mumbled quietly as you placed your bags on the couch.

‘At least he kept the place clean.’ You thought to yourself as you walked across the apartment to the bedroom. You opened the door and much to your surprise your husband wasn’t there, and the bed was made perfectly… Except for the tiny card paired with a white rose sitting on the bed. 

Dear, (y/n) 

I did a lot of thinking this weekend in your absence. It has been the loneliest. I want you to play a scavenger hunt. There are three more roses I want you to collect with hints. At the end we will be reunited. You ready?

First clue is: The place we laid eyes on each other. 

 ‘Well at least the first clue was easy.’ You smiled as you turned around to get ready for what lies ahead of you for today. 

You thanked the driver as you exited the taxi. You were outside of the Manhattan District Attorney’s Office. The place you and Sonny had first met. You were working as Barba’s assistant at the time. You remember that day very clearly. As cheesy as it sounds it really was like love at first sight.  

“(Y/n)!” You heard a familiar voice shout. You turned around and saw Fin. 

“Fin?” You chuckled as you walked over to him.

“It took you long enough. This is the next clue.” Fin smiled as he handed you an identical paper card and another white rose. 

“Are you all involved in this?” You questioned fin.

“Read the damn card. I’m not spoiling anything!” Fin answered.

Woohoo! You got the first clue!

Okay, where did we have our first date?

“He’s lucky I got cab money!” You laughed as you said goodbye to Fin headed onto your next destination. Central Park. You were in deep thought the entire taxi drive to Central Park. You guys almost walked around and hung out at the park that whole date. Where exactly was he thinking?

When you arrived at your destination you strolled around trying to repeat the steps you took that date. You were probably walking around Central Park for about thirty minutes now. Where did he mean? 

It was when you walked by a younger couple exchanging a chaste kiss when the lightbulb lit up. The place you two had your first kiss! That was one of the many things that was special about Sonny. He was the first guy you ever kissed on a first date. You had a rule about kissing on the first date and he was the exception. There was just something special that first date that you hadn’t felt before. 

You snapped out of your thoughts when you made it to the location. The Bow Bridge. There was just something so romantic about this bridge whether it be the beautiful trees, the lake or just the whole vibe of the spot in general. 

“Olivia? Noah?” You called out when you saw Liv and her son Noah looking out over the bridge together. 

“Finally, you made it! We’ve been waiting forever.” Noah said as he jumped in excitement.

“Is that so?” You smiled at the excited little boy. “Liv, does he really have all of you involved in this?” You questioned.

“All I can tell you is that you found the other clue.” Olivia smiled as she handed you another card and white rose. 

You shook your head with a tiny grin as you opened up the card. 

My Love,

You are so close to finding me!

Next clue is where did we confess our love?

“Oh, no way!” You sighed to Olivia already knowing exactly where this was.

“You’re almost done.” She smiled to you.

“Go find him!!! Gooooo!!” Noah shouted as you turned to leave.

“I will!” You said walking away.

This was an easy one. How could you forget? You decided to walk this time to the next spot.  New York City was so beautiful. You couldn’t have imagined having the life you have now seven years ago. Your job, your friends, and importantly, Sonny. Maybe you were too hard on him. Sonny is an amazing guy. He was your first healthy relationship. He’s the first person who ever showed true unconditional pure love. 

It was when you saw the familiar blonde ahead of you when you made it to your next clue. The front of your old apartment complex. The place you lived up until you and Sonny were engaged. 

“Amanda?” You called out. 

“(y/n)!” Amanda said as she brought you into a deep hug. “It’s been a while.” She said, smiling at you.

You felt bad for being jealous of Amanda at times. She was always good to you. 

“Manda, it’s good to see you.” You hugged her back. “Are you the last clue before I see my darling husband?” You chuckled. 

“Almost.” Amanda said as she pulled out the paper card and white rose.

“You know I’m getting tired of running around this city with all these roses!” You said as you opened the card to read.

You did it!!!

Now, one last spot.

You mentioned this on one of our first dates.

One activity in New York, You dreamed of doing when you were a little girl.

‘He’s so sweet...’ You thought as you stared at the card, you could feel your eyes water up. 

“He really loves you, (y/n).” Amanda smiled at you as she looked at the emotion in your face.

“I know...” You said softly as you held the roses closer to your chest. 

“Then go to him.” Amanda said as he gave you one last hug. “Go!” She motioned. 

“Thank you, Amanda.” You said turning around. Jogging down the busy sidewalk. You knew this wasn’t far. 

When you were a little girl, you dreamed of going on a carriage ride around Manhattan. Cheesy, yes. But you were a little girl living in a tiny town. They didn’t have anything like that in your hometown. It was something fantasized about riding around with your Prince Charming. You could feel the tears running down your cheeks.

You started to slow your pace as you saw him. It was a busy street, but you couldn’t miss him. He was so beautiful. Standing there, almost glowing from the bright lights in his favorite suit with an enormous bouquet of white roses and next to him was a horse carriage.

“Sonny!” You shouted! Not caring who was annoyed by your shouting.

“(y/n)!” He shouted back, smiling from ear to ear.

You ran into his arms; you hugged him as tight as you could.

“You found me! I knew you would.” Sonny hugged you back gently, you could tell he was trying to harm the bouquet in his arms.

“I’m sorry Sonny.” You said crying into his chest.

“What? My love, don’t apologize. Never apologize. You woke me up.”

“Huh?” You looked up at your husband confused.

Sonny held his hand to your face, wiping your tears with his thumb. “You made me realize how lucky I was to have you. You supported me when I was a detective, I couldn’t have gotten through law school without you. You have given me a reason to wake up every single morning. You are my beautiful wife, and I couldn’t have been blessed with anyone better.” 

“Sonny...” you sniffled.

“I got you white roses because I know they’re your favorites, and I got you three for every amazing year we’ve spent together and these...” Sonny said, handing you the large bouquet. “For many more years we will spend together.” Sonny planted a deep but sweet kiss onto your lips, holding your face in his hands. 

“I love you so much.” You smiled at him.

“I love you twice as much.” He smiled back. “Now, I won’t take all of the credit. The squad did help.” Sonny chuckled.

“You still made it all happen, my love.” You said.

“Oh, we can’t forget this!” Sonny said as he pulled your ring out of his pocket and placed it on your finger.

“Did you clean it? It looks so shiny.” You asked admiring your gorgeous ring.

“I did. I remember you were talking about getting it cleaned.” Sonny smiled and kissed your hand. “Still not as beautiful as you.”

You laid a soft kiss on his cheek. “Now, let’s get on this carriage!!” You jumped in excitement.

Sonny couldn’t help but stare at how beautiful you were when you were happy. He watched as you began to climb into the carriage. He was so damn lucky. 

[lonesome-witching]

Almost

I actually had a lot of fun writing this. Especially after all the drunk Nancy I got to write. It felt like it was time for some drunk Robin. Also I would like to note that I still, to this day, have never been drunk so any and all inaccuracies of drunk people are probably because of that. And I do apologize. Someone should get me drunk some time.

You can read my previous prompts here or if you'd like, you can send me prompts.

Nancy shouldn’t have been at this party. She didn’t want to be at this party. But Robin had sounded so excited about their first college adventure and Nancy didn’t have it in her to say no. It was starting to become an issue. 

Robin, for her part, had spent the night dancing and drinking. At least she was having fun. It was just a pity that she was having fun with her arms hung loosely over another drunk girl’s shoulders. 

Perhaps Nancy should start drinking too. Perhaps it would erase the heavy feeling in her chest. 

“Nancy!” Robin shouted as she ran up to her. 

Nancy looked into her cup with a smile. The water greeted her back as she placed the plastic against her lips. 

“Nancy! There you are, I thought I lost you.” Robin pouted as she spoke, her lips nearly trembling and Nancy wanted to pull the girl into her arms and never let go. 

“I’m right here,” she replied instead. Maybe if she had a few cups to drink she’d run her mouth like she did at that Halloween party many moons ago. But that was exactly why she wasn’t drinking. She didn’t want to say something she’d regret, something she wouldn’t be able to take back. 

“Come get another drink with me.” Robin was already slurring her words, nearly losing her balance as she pulled at Nancy’s sleeve. 

“I think it might be better to take you home.”

“I don’t want to go home yet. Don’t make me go home yet.” 

“Well, I’m going home,” Nancy declared with a finality she couldn’t explain. “And I don’t want to leave you here.” 

Robin frowned, contemplating her options, before nodding. “Okay. I’ll go with you.” 

It was almost too easy to lose herself in how Robin caved instantly. Nancy had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep herself from grinning as she dragged Robin to the front door. The cool air did little to sober Robin up. All it did was cause Robin to lean into Nancy’s side making it all that much harder to walk. But Nancy didn’t protest. Nancy wallowed in the way Robin’s fingers felt against her arm and the way she would lean in to whisper hiccuped comments in Nancy’s ear. 

“And then she said ‘maybe’, what do you think that means, Nance?”

“I think it means maybe.” Nancy tried to reach for her keys but Robin’s body was blocking her purse. Her annoyance at the direction the conversation had taken didn’t help in the slightest. She didn’t like hearing Robin talk about other girls. It was the only topic she didn’t want to hear about. It was the only time she wanted Robin to shut up. 

“But good maybe or bad maybe?” 

“Robin,” Nancy sighed, the slightest hints of irritation creeping into her voice. 

“Sorry.” Robin took a step back, nearly falling on her ass. Nancy quickly grabbed her arm to keep her upright. They were nearly pressed together, Nancy making sure Robin didn’t topple over and Robin leaning into the touch. 

“I’m gonna open the door now,” Nancy declared, eyes still locked on her friend. Robin nodded, her eyes glazed over. For a second longer they stayed frozen in place. And then Nancy finally reached into her purse to pull out the keys to their shared apartment. A two bedroom cozy place financed by Ted Wheeler who had grumbled when Nancy asked. It was slightly off campus but close enough for them to sleep in on most days. 

They stumbled in. The rooms dark, only lit by the slight bit of moonlight filtering in through the windows. 

“C’mon.” Nancy pulled Robin towards the bedrooms. It wasn’t as easy as she had hoped to convince Robin to get changed and crawl into bed but Nancy succeeded, like she always did. Because at the end of the day there was no room for failures. And also because Robin would do pretty much anything Nancy asked of her if she only… insisted. 

Robin looked adorable, half covered by her blanket. Nancy wanted to crawl into bed with her. But Nancy had her own bedroom, own bed and it wouldn’t be beneficial to either of them if Nancy forgot that. 

“Are we all set? Ready to go to sleep?” Nancy asked. She hadn’t meant to sound like her mother. But she had. 

Robin nodded. 

“Perfect. Good night, Robin. I’ll see you in the morning.” 

Nancy turned around to leave. She should’ve. But then Robin tugged at her sleeve and Nancy turned back.

“Please stay.” Robin was pouting. 

“Robin, I should go.” 

“Nancy, please stay.”

And what was Nancy going to do? She couldn’t say no to Robin’s pouting face. Just like Robin could never say no to her. So, Nancy crawled into bed, next to Robin, and tried to not notice the heat radiating from the girl’s body. She didn’t want to think about how close her hand lay to Robin’s. She could touch it, if she wanted to. She was already almost touching it. Almost, almost, almost. The word seemed to pop up quite a bit too often when it came to Robin. Almost touching, almost telling, almost getting everything she wanted but what she didn’t deserve. 

“Are you still awake?” Robin’s voice broke through the thoughts. 

“Yes, I’m awake.” Almost knowing what she should do. 

“I’m thinking.” 

Nancy laughed softly, muffled by her own thoughts. “It’s overrated.” 

“Maybe I don’t care what that girl thinks. I think I’ve been trying to force something that’s not real because I’m scared that if I admit that I’m in love with you, you'll leave me. And I’ve wanted to tell you so many times but each time I just think, what if you hate me for what I feel. It’s not like I can help it. I don’t know. Maybe it’s all just bullshit. I think I might be drunk.” 

Nancy listened as Robin turned away from her. She listened as Robin’s breathing evened out. And maybe she almost knew what she should’ve said but Robin was already asleep and Nancy’s mind was reeling. 

[giggly-squiggily]

ahhh gotta be quick with demon slayer before it fills up haha

SANEGIYU ANGST. because i just know that at some point sanemi was tired or distracted or smth like that and called giyu kanae. and while the horror of what just happened settles into his chest and he starts apologizing, giyu just looks him dead in the eye and says with an ever so slight tremble to his voice: "it's okay, sabito."

OOF. Ouch, owie! This one hurt! My heart is broken, be right back gonna go wallow in Sanegiyuu fluff *dives in*

CW: Mentions of death, mentions of blood

“Thanks, Kanae.”

And just like that- everything collapsed.

~~ Soft black hair all down her back. The smell of Peonies as she moved. Her smile- radiant and unyielding even in the face of his rage. Butterfly clips that held back her hair as she tended to his bleeding arms.

“You’re gonna bleed out one day, Shinazugawa.” She chided softly, her voice like bells.

“Good. Maybe I’ll bring all the demons to me when I die.” He shrugged, wincing when she pinched his bicep. “Ow, the hell?”

“Don’t talk like that.” Her voice took on a rare edge, and when she looked up, pale lilac eyes held a hard glare. “Never say that again.”

“Jeez, calm down.” Sanemi sighed, even as he felt himself give in. “It’s not like it’s not a possibility. We’re Hashira. We’re bound to die young.”

“Maybe. Still, don’t speak of your death so easily. There’s always someone who’ll be hurt by it.” Her expression softened, something sad in her gaze. “I’m rather fond of you. I’d rather not hear from your crow of your untimely demise.”

Sanemi had nothing to say to that, only watching as she tied off the bandage around his arm.

~~

Sanemi’s chest twisted, the name on his tongue so familiar and so achingly heavy. He missed her. He missed her gentle touch, her soft voice, the way she never failed to make his heart race like-

Like…

Oh dear god.

He twisted around, eyes widening as they fell upon an unreadable Giyu. GIyu, his boyfriend.

Giyu, the person he’s supposed to love.

Giyu, whose heart he just shattered.

“Giyu…I’m so sorry…” Sanemi whispered out, his voice too choked to speak any louder.

The Water Hashira seemed frozen, still as a statue. His expression was hidden in his bangs. Please. Sanemi begged internally. Please look up.

Giyu finally did, and his eyes…

Those eyes…

“It’s okay, Sabito.”

Sanemi didn’t hear him as he walked away.

He couldn’t hear anything anymore.

Send me a headcanon and character(s) and I'll write a short 300-500 word dabble for it!

[hecksupremechips]

giving u a lil friend smooch and permission to talk about whatever crosses your mind MWAH

Whale ain’t that sweet 🥺

Time to talk very long in an incoherent way cuz im out of meds and sleep deprived and having issues rn so its. Not gonna be. Words gonna go silly

I’m never not thinking about shinji this is known this is truth I think shinji and ryuki have this shared problem of being my favorite characters ever but the game theyre in sucks and is Bad so bad lol but shhhh I don’t wanna talk about that part rn I’ll get really bitchy. I’m very insecure that when I write the shinji and akihiko relationship during the 2 years separation that I’m making aki look like a fucking asshole on accident liek I’m worried my biases are skewing things cuz like okay. Main conflict is aki wants shinji to come back to sees and feels like he’s blaming himself too much for the incident with kens mom to the point of not doing ANYTHING like just wallowing in self pity. And shinji doesn’t wanna come back cuz guilt + trauma has ruined everything about sees and he doesn’t have a clue how to control his persona so he doesn’t wanna risk another casualty and he’s sick of being asked to come back to that shit and starts destroying himself yayyy. And its a very real conflict like it hurts cuz neither of them are WRONG but they’re horrible at communicating and they have so much bullshit to carry that they should t have to carry on their own but they don’t have anyone to rely on, especially not shinji. But sometimes I think like in both the canon and in fics akis perspective is shown waaay more and he’s made out to be like. Correct? Like I’m supposed to think shinji is being unreasonable or something or that he’s an asshole and it’s like. No??? I think he’s actually very reasonable like he really shouldn’t have to come back to sees it’s not the end of the world like yes, he shouldn’t be isolating himself it’s not good for him but that’s not like. A moral failing he’s literally just traumatized and suicidal and like. Of course he’s isolating! Of course he’s being secretive and hurting himself and feels at fault like he isn’t a regular persona user his persona is literally actively dangerous which would obviously translate to him as “im dangerous” and hes also literally been told all his life he’s a failure he’s literally the loner with “behavior issues” and no family no money treated as a burden by all the adults and being in sees was his one chance to be a part of something where he finally wasn’t a failure and then. He failed at that too. And he loves his friends but like, their lives aren’t the same. Mitsuru has always been rich and beautiful and smart and akihiko came from the same place but he got adopted by a nice rich family and is a star athlete and smart and well behaved and then theres shinji the drop out freak and I think that’s also what leads him to connect with strega and get the suppressants is just like. The feeling of being misunderstood by the people who SHOULD understand but they just like. Literally cannot because of their different roles in society. It’s painful! It isn’t something he wants to address but it’s undeniably there! And it’s painful for aki just like. The realization that he alone cannot move shinji he alone cannot make him happy again and theres parts of him he’ll literally never understand it’s horrible cuz they’ve always understood each other and been able to pick each other up but the world is getting too complicated and they’re both so damaged and can’t do it alone anymore and punching shadows just. Won’t fix it. They need so much love and support and therapy and cookies many cookies and shinji lives in my pocket

Okay now that I’ve gotten the bulk of that ramble out of the way let’s get cute okay. I really wanna write halloween fics rn even though it’s July like it’s actually a need and of course it’s about my favorite tsundere family trio so basically basically basically October is a horrible month for them but they and the rest of sees decide to get really into Halloween just to have something good to look forward to and I like to imagine shinji in an attempt to find a will to live gets like REALLY into sewing like hes always been able to sew just like basic stuff like he always mended clothes and made miki a stuffed animal out of old socks (it was really ugly she loved it) and he could stitch up wounds but he never really got too skilled at it. And then one day he notices koromarus costume is a little wonky and this spirals into I MUST MAKE A NEW COSTUME FOR KORO and before he knows what’s happening koro is dressed like a clown fish and a month has passed and he hasn’t tried to hurt himself once so FUCK this is now something he’s become deeply invested in. So he decides he’s gonna make Halloween costumes for Ken and (sigh) himself cuz yeah. There’s obviously gonna be a halloween party costumes are required. Ken I think would like trick or treating but also he’s like IM NOT A BABY I DONT DO THAT and I think aki and shinji would respect that but also they kinda really wanna take him trick or treating cuz a) it’s fun and they need fun memories and Ken needs to have childhood fun before he’s too old b) they didn’t really get to have much halloween fun as kids and c) candy free candy. Still undecided if they’ll go or not BUT they will at least have the party to go to and they’re all like oh noooooo (secretly very excited). So back to sewing shinji tries to engage with kens interests and with great great effort he promises Ken that they’ll dress up as his favorite characters and Ken sooo wants to act cool but he’s over the moon and the idea of shinji dressing up with him is just. Sobs I’m actually gonna cry JUST THINKING ABOUT IT STOP. So shinji gets some shitty ass discount fabrics and is gonna hand sew them but he’s starting kinda late and his hands are a lot weaker now so he’s forced to use 🙊 the sewing machine. And he is very bad. With the sewing machine but he cannot destroy it with his ax because it was a gift and he doesn’t have time to struggle with this and he wants to call fuuka for assistance but he’s a little shit who hates asking for help and also it’d ruin the surprise if she knew his costume plans obviously. So basically enter aki who walks in on this and he’s like hey did you know you can read the instruction manual for help and shinji is like FUCK YOU OF COURSE I KNOW THIS and aki is like then hwhyyy are you nOT DOING IT and so they have to take a night to figure it out (date night goals) and it’s literally so difficult cuz the instructions are total gibberish to shinji but at least he knows how sewing works while aki is the opposite he can read the manual but doesn’t know shit about threads or fabric so they have to work together it’s atrocious it’s like diffusing a bomb and then other conflicts come up aki is like. Am I getting a costume too and shinji is like lol no and aki is like but I wanna be part of this joint costume thing it sounds cute and shinji is like ….did….did you think you weren’t gonna be part of this???? And aki is like YOU NEVER DISCUSSED IT WITH ME???? So poor aki just thought he was excluded from the big costume moment cuz shinji forgot to explicitly tell him that it was a thing they’d both do cuz he just thought it was obvious and this changes EVERYTHING SHINJI so they discuss their costumes and shinji is like okay cool but I’m still not making your costume for you that’s something you gotta figure out for yourself lol and then they get the machine working and shinji makes a third costume and it’s sweet but also he does get scolded for overworking himself but it’s fiiiiine it’s literally fiiiine and Ken is happy even though the costumes are really wonky cuz he thinks he looks JUST LIKE his

Blorbo and also he honestly didn’t think shinji and aki would actually go through with dressing up with him cuz he’s just so used to empty promises and not getting good things BUT THEY FOLLOWED THROUGH and they look really dorky and stupid but they match with him and they did it for him and they look like a family and oh god im crying again hold on. And they get a lot of candy obviously and side note akihiko would be that bitch who gives raisins to everyone because it’s the only candy he likes and he genuinely thinks kids would want it because ITS LITERALLY NATURES CANDY and their apartment gets egged

[the-cult-of-russo]

Poetic Tragedy (Part 6)

Pairing: Reader X Billy Russo

Warnings: Cursing, angst, sadness, substance abuse, mental health issues, mentions of sexual assault. This one’s a little dark and not really in a violent way (okay some of it is lmao). Just more the themes explored, I guess? 

A/N: Drama, drama, drama lmao 

Also, huge shout out to @idaofinfinity​ for your amazingly kind words on your reblog earlier. I don’t even know what to say and I don’t feel worthy of the compliments you gave me. It means so much to me what you’ve taken away from this story and how you’ve been able to put yourself in readers shoes in such a raw way. 

I appreciate each and everyone of my readers and especially so when you guys reach out to me and let me know how something made you feel. It makes me feel connected with you all on a really deep level. Fanfic for me is an escape. Sometimes, like this story, there’s things I have personal experience with and I’m working through shit, getting it out in a cathartic way. Or even if I’m just off in a make believe land for a moment where Billy has a pet cat called Asshole, its an escape. Writing fanfic is more than writing a story for me. It’s creating worlds and scenes that not only myself, but others can lose themselves in for a little while. It’s about taking you out of reality and putting you somewhere else. The readers on this blog have always been so supportive of me and always so encouraging and I love you all. 

—------------------

It was the day after Billy had decided to be an asshole and he hadn’t said one word to you, acting like you didn't exist. You really weren’t quite sure why he’d flipped like he did but you’d come to the conclusion he was just an asshole. He’d only helped you because of the shit with his mother, like he was enacting a fantasy with you he’d always wanted to live out. Some weird psychological bullshit. Either way, the only way he’d been nice to you and helped you was for some fucked up sick game he was playing for himself and you realised this Billy that was sitting across from you now was the real one. It also wasn’t lost on you that Dean had been avoiding you all day and you really weren’t sure why you were repelling people all of a sudden. You’d ended up spending the day with Karen and Curtis, following them around as they did what they did. You had a sneaky feeling Karen knew where your dark thoughts were heading, so she made it her mission to not let you wallow in your room and you were grateful. It also gave you the chance to get to know Curtis better and you really liked him. He was also not speaking to Billy because of what he did to Dean and you felt better that someone here had Dean’s back. Curtis had taken him under his wing and he took the slight personally. Now you were all gathered around a table in a meeting room on the same floor as yours that you didn't even know existed. It was essentially another bedroom but it had a large table in the middle of it, chairs all around it, and a bunch of monitors all over one wall with a long desk spanning the entire wall. This was where you’d been introduced to a man with scraggly hair called Micro. The same man who used to have the room you were currently using. 

Frank had gone over his plans for the Irish mob, a lot of it going over your head as you didn’t understand most of the technical shit they were saying. But they were the professionals so you knew they knew what they were doing. What you did know was that in the five days you were out of commission, Frank and Micro had been doing some recon to put a plan together. Billy had made it perfectly clear that he wasn’t happy with being left out of the planning, but that was all he’d said the entire meeting. Since the whole thing was basically just letting you know the plan and Billy wasn’t talking to you, he was uncharacteristically quiet. 

“We’re gonna hit ‘em in a week,” Frank said firmly, his finger tapping on the wooden table in front of him as he looked at you. You felt the relief sweep through you at finally having a time frame. An end goal. In 7 days you’d be free to go back to the life you knew. It would be over. You knew people didn’t get your desire to leave. Why would the homeless girl want to leave a place with a warm bed and food to go back to the streets? You saw it all over Karen’s face whenever she brought up you possibly staying and you shot her down. But you didn't belong here. This wasn't what you knew. There wasn't a place for you here. And now with Billy being a little bitch baby, you really just wanted to leave. From what you knew of their plan, in the days leading up to the big hit, they would be taking out some of the lower levels. Culling the herd, Frank had called it. After that, they’d be going after the head honchos. You knew this entire thing wasn't just for your benefit. Frank had been upfront about the fact that the Irish were already on their list because they were doing very bad things, but your little predicament had just sped it along a bit. But you couldn't wait to be free and finally leave. Most of your life had been on the streets and you’d grown accustomed to it. You didn't feel right in a place like this. 

With that out of the way, everyone filed out of the room. Billy was front and center, acting like he couldn't get out of there quick enough. You stuck with Karen as you went back downstairs. She was talking about something but you weren't really listening, completely in your own head. So much had happened in such a short space of time, you felt like a different person. You wondered how you’d adapt to being out on the streets without the drugs. It would be strange, so foreign to you now. But despite the quiet urge when things in your head got too loud, you knew you wouldn't go back to it. You’d been a slave to it for far too long, leaving your dignity behind. You didn't want to be that person anymore. You wanted control of your own life back. Your eyes found Dean as he slipped out of the front door and you knew you needed to speak to him, find out why he was being so weird with you. 

“I’ll be back in a minute,” you mumbled to Karen. She looked from you to the door as if putting the pieces together before she nodded.

“Okay,” she smiled. You hurried off to the door and went outside, seeing Dean standing around not far from the door. He turned around, looking shocked to see you.

“Why are you avoiding me?” you asked bluntly, having no time for bullshit. Life was too short to beat around the bush. He looked away from you guilty, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

“Y/N...” he started, unable to look at you.

“No, I wanna know why. Billy’s being a dick and that's fine. I thought I got to know him when we were stuck together but obviously not. But I expected better from you,” you frowned, disappointment lacing your tone. He looked uncomfortable, shifting where he stood.

“Look, I… Billy just… He told me to stay away from you,” he admitted, finally meeting your eyes. You felt anger sweep right through you and you clenched your fists.

“And you’re listening to him why?” you questioned harshly. You couldn’t deny you were hurt about it. You had no idea why Billy would be such a dick but it hurt that Dean was going along with it. He was the only familiar thing in an unfamiliar place and he was the closest thing you had to a friend. 

“Because he’s my boss, Y/N,” he sighed. You pursed your lips, looking at the floor as the guilt hit you instead. He’d been fine here until you showed up, messing everything up for him. This was his space, he had a place here unlike you. Did you just ruin everything you touched?

The door opened then and Billy appeared. You couldn't read his face but his eyes narrowed to slits as they went from you to Dean.

“Am I interrupting something?” he asked slowly, his voice amused yet annoyed at the same time. 

“Yes,” you snapped at the same time Dean muttered a ‘no’. You shot Dean a glare that could melt snow and he looked away from you. 

“Right… Well, Frank wants you in the armory,” Billy glowered, looking at Dean. Dean nodded and scurried off and you once again felt hurt he wasn't trying to work this out with you. Now you were left with Billy who was glaring at you.

“You’ve got some nerve telling Dean he can’t speak to me,” you growled. You really couldn't believe he was doing this. 

“He needs to get his head in the game, we’re into some serious shit here,” he replied with a stony look.

“Whatever,” you huffed. You couldn't be bothered dealing with him, there was no reasoning with him. You needed some air, feeling like you were suffocating with all the bullshit, and you turned around starting to walk away from the building.

“What the fuck are you doin’, Y/N?” he barked, quickly intercepting you so he was in front of you. You rolled your eyes as you clenched your jaw, eyes burning into him.

“I’m getting some air,” you bit out.

“I don’t think so,” he shook his head with a dark look.

“I don’t remember asking for your permission,” you hissed, feeling your anger turning up from simmering to boiling. Who the hell did this asshole think he was?

“It’s not safe,” he growled, taking a menacing step towards you.

“I’m just walking around the building. We’re in the middle of nowhere here!” you fumed. He was being ridiculous. He took another step towards you, tall and imposing as his eyes were ablaze.

“It's not safe. You don't know what’s out there. We got our intel but they could have theirs. We don't know if they’re hidin’ out there waitin’ for their chance to stick a bullet in you,” he seethed, tapping your temple for good measure. You smacked his hand away from you harshly.

“Like you give a shit! Stop pretending you care when really you just wanna boss me about for whatever fucking reason! I'm not one of your goddamn recruits! I don’t have to listen to you!” you yelled in frustration.

“Get your ass inside,” he growled, grabbing your wrists.

“Let me go, you asshole!” you spat. You tugged to try and get your wrists free and he went to grab you to pick you up, but you kneed him in the balls and he groaned, dropping to his knees. It had been a reflex at being manhandled like that but you didn't feel bad for one second. 

“The fuck is goin’ on out here? I can’t leave you two alone for two goddamn minutes?” Frank barked as he came outside. 

“He started it,” you muttered, not unlike a child. 

“Like hell I did,” Billy snarled from where he was on the floor, hand cradling himself. 

Frank’s eyes went to you and then Billy, heaving a large sigh.

“Get your ass up,” he muttered.

“I just got kneed in the nuts, Frankie. I’m gonna need a minute,” Billy growled with a glower.

“I don't give a shit, get up,” Frank glared. There was a tense standoff between the pair and you watched wondering what would happen. But then Billy picked himself up carefully, his body tense.

“She shouldn’t be out here, it's not safe,” Billy muttered, tensing his jaw.

“How ain’t it safe, Bill? No one knows where we are,” Frank frowned, he sounded exasperated. 

“We don’t know that. There could be someone out there right now,” Billy's arms swept dramatically around him and Frank snorted.

“Come on, man. You really think someone’s out there with a sniper with their sights trained on her? I know you don’t believe that, ‘cause if you did, you’d be on the roof with your own sniper and he’d be dead in seconds,” Frank quirked a brow at Billy and Billy shifted on his feet, shaking his head as he looked away. Things went quiet for a moment again and it was tense and uncomfortable. 

“Go inside,” Frank ordered, his voice firm and cold as his eyes bore into Billy. Billy looked shocked, offended even at the commanding tone like he was being ordered about by his partner. 

“Excuse me?” he asked, his tone calm but something told you he felt anything but.

“I said get the fuck inside,” Frank said scathingly. Billy glared at him for a moment before he scoffed, rolling his shoulder and not sparing you a glance.

“Waste of my goddamn time anyway,” he huffed, storming back inside. You hadn't realized how tightly wound you were until he was out of view and your body relaxed a little. 

“You alright?” Frank asked carefully.

“Fine. Just wanted some air,” you muttered, wrapping your arms around yourself. 

“Come on. I’ll come with,” Frank said softly, starting to walk around the building. You followed along beside him, feeling grateful he was a lot more reasonable than his counterpart. Frank was silent for a long moment and you tried to enjoy the crisp air. You were so used to being outside but you’d been stuck inside for so long. It was nice to back out here. 

“He hurt you?” Frank asked tensely after a while. You glanced at him but he was staring straight forward.

“No, just tried to grab me,” you answered with a shrug. He nodded, eyes darting to you for a brief moment.

“I don’t know what goin’ on with him. Ever since Rawlins… his face… he just ain’t been the same. He’s impulsive, reckless, can’t control his own shit… We used to be on the same page, I could read him like a book. But when he’s like this… I got no idea what's goin’ through that head of his,” Frank frowned thoughtfully. You remembered when Billy told you some of his past, when he’d mentioned he’d always been broken but it got worse after what happened to his face. You weren't really sure what to say to that so you both silently walked around the building. 

“Karen said you’re still plannin’ on leavin’ once it's done,” he blurted, eyes looking at you curiously for a moment. You tensed a little as you nodded.

“Yeah,” you replied, not knowing what else to add. You didn’t really want to talk about this again. You’d gone around and around in circles with Karen about it. Frank stopped walking and you did too with a small sigh, knowing what was coming.

“You don’t have to leave, you know,” he murmured, giving you a soft look. Your arms tightened around yourself, looking away.

“I know, but I want to. This isn't my place, Frank. I know you don't get it but I belong out there. It’s what I know,” you tried to explain. He looked away looking lost in thought as he nodded absentmindedly. 

“Well… if you change your mind, you know where we are. You’re always welcome here,” he said softly. You felt a slight warmth spread in your chest at his words and you smiled.

“Thanks,” you said sincerely. 

“And you better expect daily visits with coffee and pancakes,” he smirked ruefully, making your smile widen. It would be weird having people come to see you out there but you couldn't say you’d hate it. It had been a long while since you had anyone come to see you in your alley. The both of you set off walking then but the silence didn't feel as tense or uncomfortable. You were almost all the way around the building and back to the door when you spoke again, the question on the tip of your tongue the whole time you were out here with him.

“Why didn’t you say anything? You knew I was an addict but you never mentioned it,” you asked, curiosity burning at you as you both stopped outside of the door. 

“Didn’t see the point,” he shrugged. “You weren't here ‘cause of the drugs, you were here ‘cause the Irish wanted you dead. Didn't matter to me what you got up to. Although… I gotta admit I was plannin’ on talkin’ to you about it before you left. See if I could talk you into gettin’ checked into a rehab or some shit. But now look at you,” he shot you a smile that made your cheeks burn a little. He almost sounded proud. 

“You guys can add that to your resume. Crime stoppers, mob killers and rehabbers,” you snorted, making him chuckle. 

“Guess it was a good thing you stole that money after all. Don’t wanna think what would have happened to you if we hadn’t come to you that day,” he murmured, looking off into the distance. You nodded as you thought about it. You’d be dead, you knew that much. But Frank had given you his details because you stole the money. Miss Penthouse might have just saved your life. 

You were about to walk inside when Frank reached out, gently grasping your wrist. It was the slightest touch and as you looked at it, he quickly retracted his hand, a sheepish look on his face.

“Don’t let him get to you. He’s… complicated, likes to push buttons. Sometimes he gets so into his own head I don’t think he knows how to get out of there,” he said softly. He didn't need to say the name for you to know who he was talking about. 

“As long as he stays out of my way and stops trying to order me around, I’m good,” you replied, giving him a pointed look. He nodded, giving you a small smile before he opened the door and you both walked inside. Your eyes drifted to Dean who was lingering around the training area with some other guys. You knew you’d need to corner him again at some point, try to get him to see reason that he didn't need to listen to Billy. You remembered being a teenager, how he’d come to see you and bring you food, try to comfort you if you were sad, try to talk you out of a life of drug use. When he’d gone missing, you practically grieved for him. But now he was here and you didn't want him to shut you out like this. Not when he was basically all you had. You perched on the table closest to the door, Frank hovering around you.

“Gonna get training the guys harder. Need to amp it up a little, make sure they're ready for the big finale. It’s gonna get messy,” he muttered darkly. You had no idea how he did it, all the violence and death. You didn't have it in you to take on this kind of burden. The man you killed in the alley drifted to your mind and you tried to shut it out. 

“Sir, I found a new potential recruit,” a man said as he approached Frank after coming inside the building. It was the same guy you’d conned to let you leave for your fix. You noticed alarmingly that he had faded bruises around his throat and you wondered what the hell happened to him.

“Alright, let me get Karen and the others. We’ll talk to him,” Frank muttered, moving off to find them. The other man moved over to the door, telling the potential to come in. When he did, you felt like you couldn’t breathe. Your head swiveled to the other side of the room, your eyes meeting Dean’s horrified gaze. 

“Stay here, they’ll be right out,” the bruised man spoke before hurrying off, giving you a sheepish look. All you could do was blink at the man standing there for a moment and his lips curled into a smug smirk.

“What are you doing here?!” you hissed as you stormed over to him.

“What are you doing here, sweet cheeks?” he asked in return, looking like the cat that ate the canary. Your chest felt like it was caving in as you looked at him, rendered mute at how the world loved to keep shitting on you.

“I heard word that my baby brother was shacking up with these guys, taking on the good fight. Imagine my surprise when I found out he was alive and well,” his smile turned cruel as he took a step towards you but you couldn't move.

“And then on the way here, that asshole went on and on about the homeless girl they’d taken in. How she was an addict and the Irish mob wanted her dead. And when he said it was you… well, I couldn't believe my luck,” he grinned darkly. You swallowed thickly, your hands clenching into fists. Your fight, flight or freeze kicked in and your body decided now was the time to freeze. Nothing good would come from him being here. He didn’t come here with good intentions. 

“Heard you're clean now. I’d say I’m disappointed but we both know it won't last long. Tell me, Y/N, you itching for a hit yet?” he smirked, his eyes glinting sinisterly at you as he stepped right into your space.

“Get the fuck away from her!” Dean snarled, shoving his brother roughly away from you. It only made Josh laugh though.

“There a problem here?” Frank asked slowly. Your eyes snapped to them then, the main group. Karen loved to jokingly refer to them all as the elders, the ones who founded the place. Karen was watching with a worried look on her face, Frank just confused and wary. You couldn’t read Curtis or Micro but Billy's dark eyes were narrowed dangerously as they swept over the three of you.

“No problem, sir,” Dean muttered, his voice wavering a little as he took your wrist and made you both take a step back. You were too in shock to really understand what was happening, your mind spinning. 

“Right… Well… If you follow us, we’ll have a talk, see if you’ll fit in here,” Frank replied. He still sounded unsure, his eyes looking at you concerned but you wouldn't meet their eyes. You felt trapped. Josh gave them an innocent grin, moving to follow them to a table nearby they all moved to sit at. You noticed that Dean followed on behind a little, hovering around the table. You moved over to the door, slipping out of it quickly. You felt unable to breathe, your chest tight and uncomfortable. He couldn't be here, you didn’t want him here. Someone grabbed your wrist and you jumped, a yelp leaving your lips as you were turned around. Billy looked at you with his face blank, but his touch on your wrist was light. 

“I’m gonna ask you somethin’ and you're gonna give me an honest answer,” it wasn't a request, it was a demand and you nodded dumbly, eyes feeling fuzzy and unfocused. 

“Is that him? Is that Josh?” he asked, his voice low and rough. Your eyes met his then, seeing the fire behind them. You couldn't speak, didn't know what to say. Dean obviously didn’t want people to know but what else could you do? Allow him to be here for whatever nefarious reasons he’d turned up? Your mouth opened but nothing came out, your eyes wide and panicked. It seemed to be answer enough though as Billy's eyes darkened even more, his jaw ticking before he let you go and rushed inside. 

You weren't sure what was about to happen but your feet felt the need to follow him. You got inside just in time to see Billy grab Josh by his jacket, yanking him from his seat like a ragdoll before pinning him to the wall by his throat. 

“The fuck, Bill?” Frank asked, jumping up, the others following suit. Billy seemed to pay them no mind as he glared at Josh, who was infuriatingly smirking at him.

“You think you’re funny, huh? Comin’ here to mess with people’s heads? Think you’re a big man?” Billy growled at him. Josh blinked at him, looking unfazed for a man with a hand around his neck.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” he bit out, obviously having a hard time with his windpipe being squeezed.

“Let him go, Billy,” Karen chided, looking confused.

“You get off on people’s sufferin’, you piece of shit?! You love it when they come grovellin’ back to you for more?!” Billy snarled viciously at him. You watched on as Curtis and Frank managed to get a furious Billy off him and Josh sagged in relief against the wall, rubbing his neck. He tilted his head at Billy, his eyes drifting to you for a brief moment before going back to Billy and his lips curled into a smirk.

“She tell you what she let me do to her to get her fix? How she let me put my dick in her just for some H?” Josh grinned cruelly. You felt sick, hand coming to your stomach as you felt shame burn through your entire being. Billy let out a roar as he ran at him, grabbing his arm and swinging him around. Josh fell to his knees and Billy, still holding Josh’s wrist, slammed his other hand down so hard that Josh’s arm cracked and he screamed. You stumbled backwards, seeing Josh’s arm at an unnatural angle and you heard murmuring and yelling all around you as the whole thing drew a crowd.

“You’re gonna let them do this to me? Your own brother?!” Josh screeched as he glared at Dean, tears down his face at the pain. 

“I don’t have a brother,” was Dean’s cold response. 

“Wait a minute, this is him?” Frank asked, looking from Billy to Josh and then you. You hadn't told Frank anything about your past which led you to believe Billy had. You weren't sure how to feel about it but you were in no state to even process it. Billy didn’t answer but his dark and crazed eyes met Frank and you knew they were somehow communicating without words. 

Billy grabbed Josh by the front of his jacket, hauling him up and making him cry out as his arm that hung limply at his side got jostled. Billy held him against the wall, a menacing smirk on his face.

“Say the word, Y/N, and I’ll snap his neck,” Billy grinned darkly. His words were met with murmurs and shock from everyone and Josh laughing deliriously from the pain.

“What?” you asked, your voice sounding hollow. You couldn't understand what he was saying to you. Still holding Josh up, he turned his gaze to you then. His face was serious now, all traces of amusement gone. 

“Say the word and I’ll do it,” he bit out. You blinked at him, a frown gracing your face. Josh had done a lot of things, to you and to others. But there was no way you could have that on your conscience and you weren't sure how to feel about Billy offering to kill someone for you. You shook your head, stomach churning as you felt bile rising in your throat. If there was one word to sum up Billy’s face at your response, it would have been disappointment. He turned back to Josh then only to see he was already looking at you.

“Don’t you look at her!” he raged, his fist connecting to Josh’s face hard. You winced, closing your eyes as your heart sped up. You weren't built for this, for the violence. It reminded you so much of your childhood and you leaned back on the wall feeling like you might pass out. But Billy kept hitting him and hitting him until Frank grabbed him once more and Josh collapsed into a heap on the floor. His face was a bloodied mess and swollen and you looked away, covering your mouth with a shaky hand. 

“You’re gonna kill him,” Frank muttered harshly, giving Billy a firm look.

“He’s a criminal, Frank. He hurts people. Ain’t that what we do? Take out the bad guys?” Billy asked as he caught his breath. The look in his eyes was absolutely unhinged.

“He’s a piece of shit dealer, not a murderer. There’s lines we don’t cross,” Curtis frowned, looking at Billy disapprovingly. Billy snorted, rolling his eyes.

“Oh, please spare me the holier-than-thou bullshit, Curt. You got no idea what he’s done,” he replied darkly.

You wobbled where you stood for a moment and felt an arm steady you. You looked over to see Dean, his eyes assessing you worried. He didn't look upset at what just happened at all but you knew he must have felt something deep inside of him. 

“We need to just let him go,” Karen murmured. She looked shaken up, her arms around herself as she toyed with her lip with her hand. 

“Seriously? We let him go? And he what, goes back to ruinin’ people’s lives?” Billy asked derisively. 

“We can’t let him go,” Dean spoke up from beside you. All eyes turned to him then and you felt some of them sweep to you with concern. You looked ready to have a heart attack. 

“Why not?” Frank asked. He sounded so done with all the bullshit.

“He knows about the Irish. I know my brother, he’s gonna want revenge for this. The first thing he’ll do is tell the Irish where to find you and send them right to Y/N,” Dean muttered tensely. There was an unsettling silence that fell over you all then and you shifted where you stood. Why did bad things seem to follow you wherever you went?

“That settles it then. I vote for snappin’ his neck,” Billy grinned, brows raised. There was some agreement from the crowd of recruits who had been watching like it was a new action movie. 

“Bill… We can’t just…” Frank tailed off frustratedly, running his hands over his head in agitation. 

“We could just keep him here? Put him in one of the spare rooms, lock him in?” Curtis suggested with a shrug.

“Keep him prisoner?” Karen asked, looking conflicted. 

“Like fuck he’s stayin’ here. I ain’t havin’ him under this roof, Frankie,” there was a warning tone to Billy’s voice as he glared at Frank. 

“I agree with Billy,” Dean said quietly. You turned to look at him, shock coloring your face. You hated Josh with your entire being. He’d got you hooked on that shit when you were just a kid that had suffered terrible trauma. You knew you weren't the only one he’d done that to. You knew he was sick and there was no way he’d ever be able to turn his life around. He was too far gone, too messed up. He wasn't just a dealer, selling drugs because it was good money. He genuinely enjoyed the suffering it brought people, loved the power he held over them. But you couldn't bring yourself to agree that taking his life was the right thing to do. Didn't agree with playing god like that. It felt wrong. 

“I say we take a vote,” Micro piped up for the first time. He hadn’t even moved from where he’d been sitting at the table, just watching it all unfold 

“Good idea. All in favor of killin’ the asshole?” Billy grinned, raising his hand. There was a murmuring of agreement and your eyes swept over the crowd seeing the hands go up. It was most of the people there and you looked around, seeing Dean’s hand raised along with Micro’s. And when your eyes drifted to Karen, she hesitantly put her hand up and Billy flashed her a grin and Frank’s shoulders slumped. Your stomach sank. 

“Jesus Christ… Bill…” Frank looked at him incredulously but Billy just smirked at him.

“It’s done. We don't run a place where people don't feel safe, Frank. The people have spoken, he’s gotta go,” he replied with a raised brow. 

“You know what, you do what you gotta do but I’m takin’ no part in it. You shoot him, make it clean and make it quick,” Frank muttered, shaking his head before walking off to the stairs, Karen hurrying to follow him. 

“Alright, at ease, assholes! Nothin’ to see here!” Billy called out, making the crowd dissipate quickly. Curtis shook his head as he walked away but Micro just turned back to his laptop, tapping away at his keyboard. Billy bent down, slapping Josh’s face harshly.

“Time to get up,” he growled. Josh muttered something unintelligible as Billy grabbed him, practically dragging him outside. You still stood by the door, heart feeling like it was about to burst out of your chest. Dean’s hand was still on your shoulder and you heard the gunshot outside, flinching as you squeezed your eyes shut. Dean’s hand tightened on your shoulder and you felt sick. You made a dash for the bathroom, quickly falling to the floor in front of the toilet as you emptied the contents of your stomach. Flashes were bursting behind your eyes of all the times Josh had toyed with you when you needed your next fix. How he loved it when you didn't have the money, loved having you under him desperate and traumatized as he had his way with you. Now he was dead, yet you didn't feel any relief from it. He was a piece of shit but he was still a person and he was dead because of you. He came here and died because of what he’d done to you. Because the Irish wanted you and everyone knew he’d turn you in. When you were done, you stood on shaky legs and walked over to the sink, washing your mouth out with water. You didn't recognise the traumatized girl staring back at you in the mirror. Your hands gripped the sink tightly as you lowered your head and took some deep breaths. 

The door opened and you glanced over to see Billy come in, lingering just inside. You didn't say anything, just watched him with shell-shocked eyes as he looked at you intently and tilted his head.

“Not even a thank you?” he asked, sounding amused. Your mouth gaped in shock as you moved from the sink and he stepped closer to you.

“Are you- Seriously? You just killed him!” you hissed incredulously. Billy’s eyebrows raised, a derisive laugh leaving his lips.

“Wow… alright, thought you’d be more grateful after all the shit he did to you. Or maybe you’re just worried now you won’t be able to go runnin’ to him for your shit anymore,” he smirked cruelly. Your hand connected with his face so hard that the sound of the slap echoed off the walls and his head snapped to the side. His hand came to his face, shock all over it as he blinked at you.

“You gave him this big speech how he loves to fuck with people’s minds and gets off on people suffering, but how are you any better? All you’ve done since I’ve got clean is throw it back in my face! I’ve done nothing to you, absolutely nothing, and for some reason, you’ve decided to make me feel as small as Josh used to!” you exploded vehemently. 

“You told me you’re broken and honestly, I think you're right if you think for one second I’m gonna thank you for killing someone for me! He was a monster but murder doesn't solve everything! It doesn't make me feel better that he’s dead, it doesn't take away my trauma that he's dead! So don't stand there and act like you killed him for me when you did it because you're fucking messed up!” you yelled, eyes pricking with tears. He didn't say anything, hand still on his face where you struck him as he blinked at you slowly. You didn't want to wait around for him to spit more cruel words at you so you shoved past him and out of the door. You couldn't believe him. He’d asked you if you wanted him to kill him and you told him no but he’d done it anyway. You just wanted it all to end. You wanted to just go back to your alley where it was quiet and there was no violence surrounding you. You’d run away to escape the horrors of violence, only to find yourself in the arms of it once again. 

Taglist: (if you’ve been asked to be tagged and aren’t here, it wouldn’t let me tag some people.)

@firexfate @blanchedelioncourt @ariesbutalibra @sunshinedaisies-anddeath @snowkestrel @music-indie-tv @idaofinfinity @sweetserendipity65 @ramadiiiisme @k-marzolf

@celestialams

[myown-worstenemy-2003]

Good Directions (Steve Harrington)

A/N: Hey y'all! Here is another Steve Harrington fic that my brain came up with! I had this in my head for a while and I wasn't sure what I was going to do with it but here it is! Anyway! I hope you enjoy it! PS: Pretty please don't copy my work! I worked hard on this and I will cry! Thank you! :) <3 PPS: I have no idea why I'm on a country music kick either, it's not what I usually listen to. So we're just not gonna talk about it :)

Summary: Based on the song "Good Directions" by Billy Currington

Word Count: 721

It was a hot summer day in Southern Illinois. The sun was blazing but someone had to keep the small community stocked up on their local fruits. So there you were sitting under an umbrella in the shade trying to keep cool. You had been entertaining yourself by watching as the cars drove by, but right now you found yourself snacking on Cheeto Puffs and reading a book that just came out, Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe. 

You started a new chapter when a car pulled up. You didn’t recognize the car, even when you read the license plate that read ‘H4R1T0N’.

When the person got out of the car, you knew that you didn’t know them, because you didn’t know anyone this pretty.

The man got out of the car and came around to your fruit stand. You stand up and greet him with a smile, “Hi there! Whatcha lookin’ to get today?”

He smiled back at you. 

Holy shit that is gorgeous.

“Uh, I’m not really here for anything I was wondering if you could give me some directions? I got turned around and I’m looking for the Interstate.”

“Oh! Well, it’s a good thing that you found me because I am the woman for the job!” you answered almost kind of disappointed.

You point in a direction, “So if you go way up yonder, go past the caution light,” he nodded along listening intently.

“Okay so you pass the caution light, there’s a little country store with an old Coke sign,” he looked like he was writing down everything you said in his mind.

“You gotta stop and ask Miss Bell for some of her sweet tea,” you said, it threw him off because he looked confused.

“Gotta get a drink and maybe a snack for the road! But after Miss Bell’s, a left will take you to the interstate…” you stopped for a second, thinking if you really were brave enough to say this, fuck it, “but a right will bring you right back here to me.”

You said with a smile on your face. He smiled, “Thank you very much, Miss…”

“(Y/N),” you told him, “Just (Y/N). It was my pleasure to be of service.”

Well, I hope you get more business (Y/N),” he told you with a smile on his face.

“Thank you. I hope you don’t get lost again,” you told him as he was getting into his car. He laughed and got in. He honked as he left and you waved.

You sat back down in your lawn chair. Thinking about his beautiful brown eyes, perfectly tousled brown hair, and his pink lips…

“God damn it, (Y/N)! Didn’t even get his name! What the hell!” you yelled into the open fields and highway.

You sat back down, still mad. It could have been love.

You looked over at your red Ford that has been around since before you were born. You knew that it couldn’t run him down. He probably didn’t like me anyway.

So you picked up your Cheeto Puffs and went to self-wallowing. 

After a half-an-hour of sitting in there and helping one customer, your 3rd-grade teacher Mrs. Crane, you saw another car coming your way. It looked familiar but not in a way that you saw it all the time. 

Holy shit.

The heat has to be playing tricks on you now because that looks like the car of that hunk!

As he came to a stop and got out, you stood up, “Well hey there stranger! Didn’t expect to see you back so soon.”

He smiled and walked up to you holding two large styrofoam cups and he handed you one. 

“What’s this?” you asked.

“Well, I took your advice and I went way up yonder past the caution light. I don’t know why, but something felt right when I stopped and asked Miss Bell for some of her sweet tea,” he told you with a grin on his face.

“So your Mama,” he paused to give you a knowing smile, “gave me a big glass and another for you and sent me right back here to you.”

“Well thank God for good directions, and the fruit stand.

“How did you find your way back here?”

“...I asked your mom for directions.”

[tailsrevane]

[book review] tehanu by ursula k. le guin (1990)

if you read a plot summary of this you could be forgiven for thinking something along the lines of “huh, not much happens in this one it sounds like?” but i’ll be damned if this isn’t the best book of the series so far.

we return to the story of tenar, the protagonist of the tombs of atuan. like ged with arren (i guess i had better start calling him king lebannen, but this is past tense so suck it), tenar also takes someone under her wing, in this case a girl she names therru. but unlike prince arren, who was burdened by nothing other than an overabundance of subby disaster lesbian energy (look i’m not gonna assume one way or another but i have my congratulatory message for starting hrt mentally queued up & ready to go), therru has to deal with some real trauma and a disability.

this book explores recovery pretty thoroughly, through tenar, and through therru, and through ged. it has one of the most stunningly insightful observations i’ve ever read, that “a wrong that cannot be repaired must be transcended.”

in tenar & therru’s stories, there’s also a pretty heavy exploration of misogyny. and the way this intersects with trauma & recovery. people see the scars that were inflicted on therru by men, and blame her for them, think that she’s scary & needs to be avoided. meanwhile the men who did this to her roam freely & participate in society freely, free from stigma. and fucking hell if that isn’t the most tragically relatable shit ever.

but i might be giving you the wrong impression about this book. it doesn’t wallow in this stuff. it doesn’t point at it and go “hey that really sucks, oh well.” that’s just not what le guin’s books have ever been about. the misogyny & the ableism & the victim blaming are important for how they inform character, for how they define obstacles, but at the end of the day they’re the framework for seeing how these characters take their agency back, how they tell the world “fuck you for treating us this way” and just… keep going.

okay, real quick, i should… if you’ve read this, or will read it, you’ll probably justifiably conclude that i find the way the vile antagonist of this humiliates the heroes when he has them under his power briefly. and like… okay, yeah, that shit would be hot as fuck in a more consensual scene, i will fully admit that. but still, fuck him, fuck his entire ideology, and fuck dudes like him. cool? cool.

on that note, this book also spends a lot of time exploring what power is, and what it means. and for all the examples of power being used badly, i think the closest the narrative comes to stating its own position is when tenar confides in ged that therru “obeys [her], but only because she wants to,” ged observes, “it’s the only justification for obedience.” and just. yes. all of the yes.

le guin’s writing is just special. it has incredible pages-long breathless passages, it has incredible literary montages, and then sometimes it just distills everything down to an incredibly insightful single line here or there. the rhythm of it is just so real, so lifelike. it really does make sense that her version of magic is contained in words, because in her hands words are magic.

s-rank

[ashfordlabs]

romance snippet tag!

rules: describe your wip's main romance in a 1-4 sentence snippet

i was tagged by @verba-writing thank you so much!!

okay so this really got away from me. and when i say got away from me, i mean, i don't know if it even fits what was asked, plus it's long (longer than where cursed bodies is currently at), but in my defence, i really wanted to do this tag and this scene but i didn't have it written, so everything you're gonna read was pulled from my cb plans and just written. and i think that's a perfectly fine reason to write so much, especially when eli and theo are involved. and speaking of, this is in eli's pov, if it was in theo's, it would be shorter (but not by much).

tagging (no pressure!): @kaiusvnoir @emelkae @imbrisvastatio + anyone else who wants to take part!

"we shouldn't be doing this," was what theo said to him when they pulled apart, words barely above a whisper that for a moment, eli barely heard him.

eli cleared his throat, suddenly being thrown in the present, his mind not lingering on the feeling of theo’s lips on his, the feeling of his hands gripping onto eli’s shirt as if it were a lifeline─ absolutely not. he refused to let himself think of it despite how much he wanted to pull theo in close and do it all again, because theo was right, they shouldn’t have done it and what was worse was that it was eli who crossed the line.

“no,” he replied, inching away from theo. “you’re right. you were having a moment and I─”

“you do realise that if i really thought that, i would've pushed you away?” theo stated, brow arched as his eyes stared into eli’s own, making him squirm under the contact. he always had that effect on him, one look and eli felt like theo was looking right through him. mayumi had said that was just theo, and while that might’ve been true, eli hadn’t met someone like theo, and that fucking terrified him. “there was no taking advantage. but. . . I shouldn’t have done it.”

it shouldn’t have stung, but it did. yet what did eli expect? theo was dealing with his brother which was its own problem, especially after theo had admitted there was more to it moments before they kissed. and eli, well, eli had already fucked up by falling for him, but eli’s number one rule was that he didn’t get involved with clients. and no matter how many times eli had tried to remind himself that theo wasn’t just a client, but more of a partner involved in this, yet the end of it all, theo was still the one paying them.

it also meant this; that once nathaniel ashford was behind bars, or maybe dead as eli had been hoping for since they had started this, theo had no right to stay with them. he wasn’t like henry or eli and despite the similarities in their lifestyle, he wasn’t even like Dorothea, meaning he could walk away from it all. go back to france and live his life, whatever that was, without them. all while eli would go back to being a gun for hire, working at persephone’s and wallowing in the what could have been that was theodore ashford.

just like he was in that moment, too wrapped up in the what if of a future that even eli didn’t know whether it would happen or not. that was enough for him to realise just had deep he had fallen.

“whatever you’re thinking, it’s wrong, like usual,” theo said, pulling eli out of his thoughts.

“how do you know what I’m thinking?”

“I don’t, just that you’re overthinking.” he then reached a hand forward and gently cupped eli’s cheek, the older man leaning into theo’s touch. “you get this faraway look on your face, you do it a lot, especially when we’re talking about my brother.”

those times, eli was simply thinking about all the ways he could murder nathaniel ashford in theo’s name, well, maybe more for theo since those thoughts happen every time theo admitted some cruel truth about how his older brother treated him. it was present now more than ever upon the discovery of just how trapped theo truly was.

“when I say we shouldn’t be doing this,” theo continued. “I don’t mean never, I mean now, because I can’t give my brother more ammunition against me. we’ve hopefully gotten him off my back after what we did tonight, but. . .” he trailed off, hand slipping from eli’s cheek as he tried to figure out the words to say, his fingers beginning to fiddle with the metal chain he always had wrapped around his wrist. without thinking, eli reached for theo’s hand and in doing so, pulling theo’s focus to them where he began twisting the rings around eli’s fingers. “I want this. . . I want you. . . but I can’t. . . I can’t be seen with you in public, can’t fucking walk down the street with you without someone pointing a camera at us and posting it everywhere─”

“I don’t care about that,” eli interrupted. “if you’re worried about people connecting the dots between me and what I do, you shouldn’t. you can’t do what I do without being careful and I am.”

he didn’t want to admit that there was part of him that wanted to say he’d give it all up just for theo. it’s a small part of him, but it existed, and it was just another thing that terrified him, and it would appear that the list was ever growing.

“that’s not. . . my brother finds out and it’ll be over before it even starts,” theo admitted, voice wavering as he spoke. “I don’t want to hide but I have too because otherwise my brother─” he then cut himself off, eli unsure whether it was for his sake, or theo’s own, but either way, he knew what theo couldn’t say out loud. he had heard it.

“are you sure you don’t want me to kill him?” he found himself asking. the way in which he did, sounded like he was joking, but he had said it enough times for theo to know by this point, that he well and truly meant it.

theo glared at him─ an expression that no longer had any effect on eli, but rather made him laugh. it was strange to think that there was once a time in which eli would look at theo and only seen some intimidating force of nature, but as time went on, and as eli learned the kind of person he was, theo became someone who would simply adapt to survive. that the intimidation he once displayed came from surrounding himself with criminals and trying to act as if he could fit alongside them, only to eventually find out he didn’t have to do that and upon that discovery, the true theo started to show through.

“okay, no killing.”

“thank you.” and the way he said it, so fucking earnestly that eli couldn’t stop himself from smiling.

“what about after?” he then asked.

“after?”

“after your brother is in jail?” eli clarified.

theo frowned, gaze drifting to their hands which now were intertwined, something eli hadn’t been aware of. and there was something about the way that theo’s hand feels in his that eli couldn’t help but feel as if it belonged there.

“are you sure you want to?” theo questioned. “we’ll have people breathing down our necks, especially trying to figure out who’s good enough to be seen with theodore ashford. wouldn’t be surprised if people are writing about thea and I as we speak.”

with his free hand, eli grabbed hold of theo’s chin─ ensuring he was gentle with the way he did so as a means of not scaring him and given the fact that he didn’t flinch or pull away meant that he managed to succeed in doing so.

“let them talk. a bunch of nosey bitches isn’t going to stop me from getting what I want.”

theo’s cheeks flushed red, the colour noticeable against his pale cheeks. “are you─”

“I have been sure since I heard you call me by my actual name.”

and he had. there weren’t many people that knew about his true name, that elijah clarke was nothing more than a fake identity created to disconnect himself from the person he once was. only henry knew what the name was because he had been the one to ask him if he was sure that’s what it was when eli had given it. never once did he think he would tell someone like theo, but he had, a truth for a truth, and once he had heard his name fall from theo’s tongue, spoken in a way that made eli no longer want to hate it.

and when theo said it again, it was addictive.

“you’re not going to make this waiting easy, are you?”

theo shook his head, looking back up at him. “when we leave this room, we go back to being strictly platonic and professional.”

eli nodded as he begun to pack everything away, ignoring theo’s eyes watching his every move. there was also something he hated about the way that theo was just sitting there, not doing anything to stop him. he reminded himself that it was better this way, repeating the words like a mantra. they can’t start something that was at risk of ending before anything could really happen. platonic and professional, that was how it should be.

but then, it wasn’t until eli’s hand reached for the door handle that theo’s words truly sunk in, causing him to turn around. “wait. . .”

“you’re a goddamn idiot. . .”

it was an insult, but it was said with such fondness that he couldn’t even be mad about it.

he was fucking screwed (not that he wasn't already).

[thevillagegay]

Wishing Out Loud - Chapter 2

Summary: (bitch)Miranda makes an appearance, everyone is pissed, and a plan may be forming.

Notes: SO NEW PLAN! I've gotten a few things on here and tumblr about making alcina a ghost and that just tickled my brain so I'm gonna write that one too. This, however, shall be different fic because I like two different ideas so I'll make a separate fic with ghost!cina for y'all. This was gonna be longer but I need to post something. Go yell at me in the comments because it only gets worse:)

Tags: mentioned character death, miranda because she deserves her own warning in this fic, no gore/violence in this one

In the midst of their grief, everyone still noticed that it took Mother Miranda 2 days to show up to the castle. She claimed that she had other matters to attend to, but the obvious glint of a lie in her eyes shone brightly to everyone present. They all knew she didn’t really care, as much as they wanted her too. They knew she could have stopped the man, knew she probably could have helped Alcina. But she wouldn’t. 

The false deity would leave everyone to wallow in the loss and reap what they sowed. She forced her way through the group to the newly widowed woman, asking her with a sickly politeness in her voice to join her on a stroll.

Almost as soon as they closed the door to the parlor outside her room, Mother Miranda switched as though someone had pushed a button. While she still kept that look and voice, the air had turned positively sinister. The way that she carried herself made her look like someone who had finally won, relishing in the victory and triumph over her enemy. 

Miranda's smug demeanor disappeared when she finally caught a glimpse of the downright murderous glare that the newly widowed woman sent her way. 

"Why the hell didn't you come help her? Why did you let her die." said the angry woman. Her once downtrodden eyes now alight with hate. 

Miranda’s face turned to one of mock-confusion, “I have no possible idea of what you mean. You must be delirious in your grief, we should run some tests.” If it wasn’t already obvious, her eyes betrayed her sinister thoughts, as usual. 

“There’ll be no need for any tests , Mother Miranda,” the younger woman said while staring daggers into the woman's eyes, “I’m sure I just need a few days.” A few days to deal with you, that is.

Had the false prophet been able to read what was going on in the woman's head, she would have struck her down on the spot, had she not needed her for further experimentation. It seemed the only thing that the winged bitch cared about was getting her long dead child back, no matter how many other children and parents she harmed in the process.

“Well, I’ll be taking my leave then. More work has to be done before our next meeting. Do be sure to take care of yourself, child .” Her signature sneer graced her features with the last word, golden clawed hands stretching out in a flourish. Her features twisted further the second she turned to leave the castle

The lords and company were startled by the door being pulled shut to the room, Heisenberg standing up confused as everyone else’s heads darted to the woman in the doorway. 

The distressed woman started rambling the moment the door was closed, her hands coming to her hair, “We need to get rid of her, she’s going to hurt us she’s going to do something she’s got something planned she’s dangerous sh-” 

The woman was cut off by the loud shout from the scruffy man, her hands being grabbed away from her head lest she rip half of it out. Her daughters stumbled from the unmade bed to their mothers side, each getting out of the way for Donna and Moreau behind them. The two maids that had brought food would have left, had the door not been blocked by the family. Instead, they kept to the side as they asked the woman what she meant.

“Calm down, calm down please. What do you mean she’s planning something, what is Miranda going to do.” Donna took her hands from Karl as she replaced his spot, veil long forgotten and voice coming out in a hoarse whisper as she tried to calm the frantic woman. 

“I don’t know, I don’t know but we need to do something . She’ll kill us all. You, me, karl, sal, the girls, hell even the lycans. She’s going to do something either before or at the next meeting and it can’t be good.” Salvatore’s eyes widened at the last bit, having received a schedule from Miranda about meeting times since it was more difficult for him to leave his domain. 

His garbled voice had no help from his anxious state as he breathed out, “The next meeting is in 3 days.” His voice shaking even more than it had previously at the realization that they now had a limit to the days they would have together. 

Cassandra seemed to have lost sense for a moment, as she immediately tried to push her way out the door before Karl and Daniela tried to stop her, each grabbing an arm before she could turn the handle. 

“We need to know what she’s going to do before we run off and try to kill her, she could have traps set out for all of us. She knows what hurts us and how our abilities work so we have to be extremely careful. Emphasis on careful.” Karl hastily said before the middle bug child succeeded in her escape attempt. 

Cassandra stopped pushing herself towards the door, practically falling into Bela’s arms behind her. Her eyes still shone with anger, tears threatening her eyes as her face twisted even more.

A voice reached the family from near the fireplace, “Excuse me, but I believe we may be of some assistance.” Almost every head turned in confusion as the older of the two maids that had been forgotten about stepped forward, head turned up to look between the remaining lords.