#a year since I’ve drawn him damn

[lynxfrost13]

You guys love my little freak so here he is again

[rikurespecter]

been playing totk

[grey-coded]

lil shads doodle on the back of some schoolwork :)

he is very cool :>

didn’t put a signature cause it’s just a lil stupid thing i’m not even proud of LOL idc

[urhoneycombwitch]

breathe in the air

eddie x reader x steve. part i

foreword: this is part one/set up for a fic I’ve been chewin’ on. cw is for both parts and will get updated- no actual smut in this first one but please heed the tags anyway. +18 mdni as always. (@somnambulic-thing you inspired me to write from Eddie’s pov! 💖)

cw: smoking (weed and nicotine), R’s hair is mentioned but unspecified texture/length, also wears Eddie’s shirt, R has breasts + V,�� Eddie and Reader are both varying degrees of stoned while performing sex acts (please be safe IRL and don’t read if that makes you uncomfy!!), pt. ii will have: voyeurism (Eddie and R fool around and Steve watches), blow jobs, masturbation, both the boys being Down Bad™️

wc: 2.5k (part i)

_____

The sun has sunk low over Forest Hills, Eddie’s room cast in deep blue where the golden path of his bedside lamp doesn’t touch.

He’s lighting up a post-sex cigarette, one of the best things this shitty world has to offer, in his opinion- second only to feeling your warm body against his; writhing and wriggling with pleasure, neck craned to let him lick the sloping sweat from your skin- or times like now, when you’re calm and satiated, nude under the comfort of sheets and the weight of your head on his chest.

Casting a hand out to shuffle blindly through the bedside table, Eddie wraps his other arm around the sleepy length of you, pulling you tighter to himself; your response a wordless, happy little noise. His hand deep in the drawer catches on a stray cigarette, then around the hard plastic of a spare lighter. With a sigh of contentment, he kisses the top of your head before bringing the filter to his lips.

Sparks catch under his thumb, cherry of the cig burning red- like some sort of sleeper agent responding to the click, you sit up with a jolt, stealing the mess of sheets upwards, exposing Eddie’s lower half to the cool air.

Eddie swears, startled- thinking you were almost asleep, he’d been nearly careless with the open flame- tossing the lighter aside, he reaches towards your back that now faces him. “Jesus, babe. Give a guy some warning before you snap to attention like a damn general.”

Thumb pressed to the notches of your spine, palm wide around your lower back, Eddie can feel the quiet giggle that shakes through your ribs.

 “Sorry,” you whisper once you’re finished, still staring at the far wall like you're trying not to break a spell. Your arms are crossed, sheets bunching around your chest- “Had a thought.”

“Must’ve been a good one,” Eddie muses, thumb following the line of your spine down, like he’s petting an oversized cat.

In true feline fashion your back arches into his touch, encouraging his palm to sweep up again, to your shoulder blade this time as you murmur, “I wanna go swimming.”

“Okay.” Eddie’s immediately agreeable, taking a long drag from the cig, letting smoke fill out the hollows around his lungs. “We’ll go to Lover’s Lake tomorrow. Heard it’s gonna be a hot one.”

Hawkins is having a record heat wave for the second summer in a row- as if all the damn underground monster shit and horrific earthquakes of last year weren’t enough already: global warming to top it all off. The sun has been merciless these last few weeks, peaking midday, nothing for it but to lie in a heated daze on the kitchen tiles of whoever’s house is the least amount of bitch to get to.

Not that Eddie’s complaining about you being half-naked most of the time. He thinks this is the year you might actually kill him, now that he can touch you, call you his- every curve of upper calf in those short shorts, every soft slip of stomach peeking out from cropped tops- he’s got enough spank bank material to last until his deathbed. (Which he’s decidedly allowed to joke about, since, ya know, the whole almost-dying thing last spring.)

Eddie moves on haptic memory to set aside his cigarette, searching pinky-out for the lip of the ashtray (ceramic, with a poorly-drawn Snoopy, the ears far too big- you’d laughed until you cried over it at the thrift store; he was fifty cents poorer that day but rich and dizzy off your glee). 

“No, not the lake. And I wanna go swimming now.” There’s a hint of petulance in your voice, walking the thin line of childish whine that only appears these days after you’ve smoked, tongue and desires loosened and lax with the help of the finest hash stash in Hawkins. 

There’s a smile threatening to split Eddie’s face in two. He’s been working at that hard-won wall of your solitude for ages now, showing rather than telling you it’s okay to ask for things, that you’re safe to make requests and hell, even demands, from him. Eddie’s not sure what he wouldn’t do for you, at this point- hasn’t found that line yet. Probably doesn’t exist.

A monster of my own design, he thinks, fondly, sweeping the hair from your neck so he can see the outline of cheek and jawbone, reflective with lamplit glow. “Baby, there’s nowhere to swim right now- it’s dark and that’s not real safe. Tomorrow I’ll make us some sandwiches- we can drive out to the lake, you can get stoned and I’ll play lifeguard.”

It’s probably too much to hope you’ve swallowed this bitter pill of compromise in silence, but based on the lack of response, it’s certainly possible. Eddie presses his thumb into the muscle where your neck meets shoulder, massage a silent apology for saying no when you’d been so good to ask. 

Crickets chirp in chorus outside, sound dampened by the glass window- he needs to open it soon, get the hot air out and night breeze flowing (though he is loath to replace the heady smell of sex wrapped like a cozy blanket around his room).

He feels you shuffle under his hand, eyes popping open to watch- you’ve tucked your chin over the dip in your shoulder, looking down the slope of your own nose at him, an expression on your face that makes Eddie’s stomach flip (with nerves, fear, excitement, hard to pinpoint exactly).

Your voice is quiet but steady when you speak, Eddie’s massaging fingers freezing to a halt when you say, “I know a place, open right now, with a lit-up pool. And a lifeguard.”

A thin tendril of smoke from the ashtray floats into Eddie’s vision as he stares blankly at the ceiling for a moment. Then he sits up, crushing the cherry into Snoopy’s wavered outline (sorry, pal) before brushing arms with you, patient and stern with a headshake to match- “No way, sweetheart.”

“Why-y?” That petulance is back, Eddie’s heart kicking up in response; it’s your turn to give the physical affection, winding your arms in a closed loop around his neck, forehead bumping against his jaw as he works it back and forth. 

His stitched-tight resolve quickly unspools as the wet plush of your lips track a path across his throat; he clears it before squeezing at your side again, one last argument to try and stick like cooked spaghetti to a wall. “You’re high.”

You snort, puff of breath sending goosebumps across his skin, rapidly cooling from lack of your affection- “Yeah, and you’re not. So you can drive us there, and then smoke again with me before we go in, and Stevie boy will keep us safe in that nice, heated, well-lit pool of his.”

Even as you speak, Eddie’s shaking his head, but it’s more in disbelief of his own weakness (namely: you). He slips a hand to your cheek, pulling back to take you in- mischief shimmering like twin stars in your eyes as you lock onto his gaze, lips parting pliant when his thumb swipes at your bottom lip. 

“You gonna behave yourself?”

It’s less of a question and more of a check-in, the meaning behind the words an undulating variable, a riddle with a thousand different answers.

The one you do give is complimented by a wicked grin, punctuated with a quick kiss (awfully chaste, considering your bare front pressed against his), your mirthful delight at having won both unsettling and tantalizing.

“Guess you’ll have to find out.”

With a sudden push to his chest, Eddie goes down easy for you, hair spreading riotous across the pillow as you move with shocking fluidity to throw a leg over his hip. Your hands meet in the middle of his chest, just under the rippling ink of a crow in flight, settling your weight comfortably on his stomach. 

Eddie’s sure you can feel his pulse, jack-rabbit fast, as you dip to kiss beneath his jaw. His hands automatically settle on your hips, grip tightening with each loving kiss you scatter over his collarbones, his sternum.

He’s half-hard under the sheets by the time your lips find the hitch of his ribs, stuttering and expanding to meet your mouth- can’t be faulted, really, not when your bare chest gleams in the low light, the top of your head imploring for the warmth of his wide palm to rest. 

Just when Eddie thinks he’s in the clear, that the call of your needs (evident in the slickness pooling just under his navel where your naked cunt rests) will drive the call of your wants to distraction, you sit up again, using your planted hands as leverage to swing completely off and away.

The coldness of your absence is cruel and unusual punishment. Eddie groans, scrubbing a hand down his face, deciding right then that he won’t be above begging tonight- when you suddenly reappear with a clean beach towel in either arm, pulled from the bowels of his closet.

There’s youthful, honest enthusiasm to your movements- something that’s catching, apparently, ‘cuz Eddie’s tipping himself out of bed with a resigned sigh, pulling boxers over his flagging dick and answering your spree of questions about these new evening plans.

“Sure, bring a water bottle. No, babe, we don’t need sunscreen- it’s night. Yeah, I’ll bring more weed. How ‘bout you bring me that old shoulder bag and we can bring some stuff with us.”

As you work on digging through the mess of a combined closet to find something suitable for swimming, Eddie folds the two towels that you’d found along with a baggie of joints into the bag. You’re humming under your breath while getting dressed, and Eddie’s staring at all the leftover space- what does one pack for a nighttime high swim with one’s girlfriend and the guy you’ve both sort-of mentioned threesoming with?

He tosses in a well-loved edition of your favorite book of poems, figuring the Harrington abode will have plenty of snacks. Food for the mind, he thinks, then snorts at his own joke. 

“C’mon, snorty.” You beckon from the doorway, an old t-shirt of his just swishing past the dark strip of your bikini bottoms, van keys held aloft. 

At the front door, there’s a brief argument about coats (you think you’ll be fine without, Eddie disagrees vehemently) which Eddie wins, wrangling your arms into the sleeves of his oil-stained work jacket before locking the front door behind you both.

Eddie smiles, a secret, pure thrill watching you tiptoe gingerly across the gravel on bare feet (too stubborn to actually wear the sandals that hang from either hand). His coat is bunched up around your ears while your legs poke out like some sort of winterized bird with bare legs. 

There’s a bright pang of love that suddenly hits hits sideways, a dizzying urge to sink on denim knees to the ground, sharp rocks be damned, just to kiss the tender spot behind your knees, to feel the hill of your calf under his tongue…

Your giggle breaks his reverie, impatient and pointed jiggling of the locked passenger handle clunking out into the quiet park. “Quit staring, weirdo. You coming?”

Hope so, Eddie thinks, spinning the key ring in looping arcs around his pointer finger. He bypasses the porch steps completely, boots hitting the gravel with a satisfying crunch. “Let’s blow this popsicle stand.”

Your cheery mood is sustained during the short car ride as you chatter animatedly about some coworker drama that you forgot to catch him up on, Eddie’s hand drawn like a magnet to your upper thigh while he drives. 

But by the time he’s pulling the van next to Harrington’s beemer, your eagerness has waned, speech drifting off into silence once he’s parked. 

“Hey.” His voice draws you back to him, a bit, your eyes too wide and roving for his liking, coat sleeves clenched around opposing fists as you hang onto his words. “Sweetheart. We don’t have to go inside. Can go anywhere- diner for some food, back home, the damn trash heap for all I care. Just want you to feel safe.”

“I do,” you counter, earnest but chest still punching a fast rhythm. “I feel safe. I just… you think he’s even awake?”

There’s a yellow glow coming from one of the second-floor windows. Your fingers twist harshly around fabric in the dark, breath loud. 

Eddie nods, then kills the engine and grabs behind his seat for the Ziploc of pre-rolls, an offering held to you between two ringed fingers. “Want a bit of Green Courage before going in?”

The van windows are soon fuzzily obscured with a haze of smoke, sprinklers for the pristine lawn nearby hissing to an automated start at the turn of 11 PM. The weed coaxes your earlier state of relax to the forefront, this time with an added layer of giggles, which Eddie finds desperately cute. 

He’s sure he’s high now, too, ‘cuz he’s unintentionally focusing really hard on your lips as you speak, and you’re letting him, corner of your mouth quirking when you ask, “Gonna take me inside, Munson?”

“Uh huh.” An automatic response, just so he can keep staring- when you pop the handle of your door open Eddie reaches, faltering before landing on your face, cupping the tilt of your cheek- “Meant it. Earlier. Just say the word. Take you anywhere.”

Weed fragments his speech but you melt with understanding, leaning into his hand, your lashes sweeping sweetly at the bridge of his thumb as you whisper, “Okay.”

You’re out the door and he’s left scrambling in the wake, hauling the strap of the packed bag over one shoulder and snapping up your forgotten shoes from the footwell. He locks the doors (nevermind that this is a nice neighborhood, can’t trust rich people farther than he can throw ‘em and Eddie has always been better at running over shotput on field days) and hikes it across the grass to where you stand, a beacon of beauty under the porch light.

“Ready?” he asks.

Your bare foot- flecked with wet grass- trails up the back of your opposing leg, veins at the whites of your eyes spidering pink with anticipation (and the fresh joint) as you turn to smile at him. “Yeah. Bring it on.”

“Your wish, my command,” Eddie says, winking, knuckles pulled into a fist to rap at the front door of one Steve Harrington. 

___

[END: PART ONE]

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Name Your Price — Amren x Reader (Starfall Week)

Hiiii! Here’s my little piece for @starfallweek 2024. I hope you all like it 💕my beautiful soulmate @greeneyedivy helped me name it 💅🏻

I used the prompt “character A finally makes a move on character B”. I’ve never written for Amren before so this was quite fun!

Warnings: None.

Word Count: 3.9k

“You’re sure you don’t want me to fly you back up?”

Cassian cocks an eyebrow at you, the steadiness of his hold dissipating as he tugs his arms from around you. Though your feet are on solid ground, it takes a moment for your equilibrium to right itself. Being in the skies is something you haven’t yet become accustomed to, despite three of your closest friends sporting wings. And being flown on Starfall is an experience entirely of its own.

“You’ll miss the best part,” Cass complains, peering up at the dark canopy above you. The sky is beginning to stir as the stars ready themselves for their journeys. It won’t be long before they’re soaring and crossing.

And tempting as it is to stay and watch the sight that never lessens in its magnificence, you feel…different this year. Like there’s somewhere else you ought to be. Someone else you ought to be with.

“I’m sure,” you dip your chin. “You go, Cass. Enjoy it.”

But he doesn’t move. He studies you head to toe, studies every shred of effort you put into your appearance — hair and makeup perfected, a stunning outfit hugging your body. You feel beautiful, no doubt — and yet you’re leaving after a mere hour of drinking on the balcony with your friends.

“You know she’s just going to be holed up in her apartment with the curtains drawn,” Cass says. “She hates Starfall.”

You cock an eyebrow. “Who?”

“You know who.”

Amren.

Is it little bit humiliating that you’re so damn transparent? Perhaps. But Cass is one of your closest companions — you can hardly expect him to believe that you’re simply leaving to return to your own home and switch your stunning dress for your pyjamas.

You shrug a shoulder. “I just want to check on her, is all.”

“Hmm,” your friend’s lips twitch. “I’m sure.”

With a roll of your eyes, you swat his ludicrously huge arm. “Go back to the party,” but you lean up to press a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you — for flying me.”

“Good luck with the tiny little rain cloud. She’ll be even crankier tonight than usual.”

With a lopsided smirk and a fond — and annoying — mussing of your hair, he launches back into the sky and heads back to the House of Wind. You stare after him, wondering if you’re making the right choice.

Because when Amren says she wants to be left alone, she means it. But…you don’t know. Things have been changing. Things have been…different.

This is your third Starfall, since your move to the Night Court after the war. A native of the Day Court, it had surprised you to find yourself so at home in a place of starlight, so opposite to what you’d always known. But as one of Helion Spell-Cleaver’s nearest and dearest, you’d worked closely with Rhysand and his Inner Circle during those fraught times of battle and bloodshed — and bonded with them far more than you’d ever expected yourself to. Become an honorary member of their unit, so to speak.

And when Rhysand had courteously invited you for a visit to Velaris after the war was over, you’d known from the second your feet had touched the cobbled streets — this was where you were supposed to be.

Three years later, with a home here, a job as a Night courtier…it was hard to imagine you’d ever been anywhere else.

And perhaps the most notable and unexpected connection you’d forged was the one you had with the with the tiny creature whose barbed, edged words were — you’d learned — a sign of affection.

You did not understand Amren one bit. She was a mystery you couldn’t puzzle out, a being that was sometimes so harsh, it was hard to believe she had any warmth in her at all. But Rhysand giving the two of you a subject he’d needed you to research together had brought you closer, over the recent months. Had shredded through that trepidation you’d once felt around her and shifted it into something…different. Something exciting.

You find that try as you might, you can’t stay away.

And that’s how you find yourself strolling those cobbled streets of Velaris, dressed up to the nines and stars beginning to burst above you. You could be spectating the brilliant sight with your friends, but something tugs you towards the other side of the city. To the loft apartment with the sloping windows and the strange, intriguing female who dwells within

Indeed, as you approach, you find those windows to be blacked out. Blocking out the sight of what is occurring in the skies. You almost smile, but now you’re nervous and second-guessing yourself a little. You could turn away, go home — in all likelihood, Amren won’t want to see you.

But tonight feels different. Tonight feels like a reckoning.

So you swallow your nerves and decide you’re doing this.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

You knock once, and a voice that is both nightmare and fantasy calls out, “Go away!”

Not unusual for Amren. She tells guests to go away, even when she’s invited them.

So you brace a hand against the door and call back, “It’s me.”

There’s a beat. And then small footsteps are padding closer. There are the sounds of bolts being undone, locks clicking. Whatever it is Amren feels she needs keep out is little more than a distant thought as she yanks the door open just a tad and eyes you suspiciously through the gap. Her steely gaze takes in your dress, hair, makeup. She lifts her chin.

“Why are you here?” she asks.

You shrug. Feel a little pathetic as you answer, “I thought I’d come see what you’re up to.”  

“Why.”

“Perhaps I find your company to be just slightly more scintillating than Cassian’s.”

At that, there’s the briefest twitch of her lips. She masks it expertly. “A dead rat has more to offer in the way of company than that boy.”

You snort, rubbing at your arms. Goosebumps are pebbling your skin. The air is too brisk to comfortably be stood in for too long.

Amren studies you again, and too quickly for you to register, she’s widening the gap in the door and yanking you in by the front of your dress. She slams the door shut and gets to work refastening the bolts, sliding across the chains, securing every lock. It’s all you can do to stand and watch.

And then she turns to face you with a neutral expression — one that says that if you find anything peculiar about her behaviour, shut the fuck up. You know she won’t tell you what’s got her so on edge, so you don’t bother asking.

Instead, you turn, still rubbing at your chilled skin, and study the general disarray of her huge, open-plan studio apartment. Her bed is unmade, her trinkets and baubles scattered across various surfaces. And on the numerous overlapping rugs that cover the floor, a gathering of books, some stacked in a pile, others tossed aside, a few open on certain pages. It would seem she is spending the night going over your recent research.

“Perhaps a drink?” you ply, angling away from the mess.

She quirks a dark eyebrow. “Tell me, what is it about you and the others barging into my home and making demands of me?”

“I believe it’s customary to offer your guests refreshments.”

“I believe I didn’t ask for guests in the first place.”

Her words, to anyone outside your circle, would sound so sharp, so harsh. But you know Amren, now. That last sentence vaguely translates another meaning: I wasn’t expecting guests, but thank you for coming. Of course I’ll get you a drink.

Not that she’d ever say that in a million fucking years.

She saunters past you, towards the kitchen area. As she goes, she closes the open books and throws them onto the stacks. Picks up empty glasses.

“Don’t clean up on my account,” you say, knowing full well that she isn’t.

“I’m not,” she confirms. “I don’t want your clumsy feet treading on anything,” she places the empty glasses in the sink and turns to you. “What do you want to drink? There’s wine, wine, or wine.”

“I’ll have the wine, then.”

With the barest incline of her head, she turns her back to you. While she’s occupied, you take a moment to study the covered windows, everything that blocks out what’s occurring outside. Even the skylights are covered, and your lips twitch at the thought of her wrestling her way up there to fasten drapes over them.

It’s all so methodical, so thought out. And though you know she’d probably never tell you, you can’t help wanting to break down that barrier and know the more vulnerable side to her that is so unsettled by this holiday.

A glass is placed in your hand, and you clear your throat, ripping your gaze away from the skylight — but not fast enough for Amren not to notice.

“It unsettles me,” she says drily, surprising you.

You try your hardest not to blink at the offered snippet of information. “What does?”

“Starfall. What it is. What it signifies.” Taking a slow sip of her wine, she sits on the rug. You follow suit. “Those stars, beings, whatever you want to call them…they are on a journey. Going from one place to another. Perhaps from one world to another. That was once me.”

“…and that unsettles you…”

“Perhaps I know one of them, from many, many years ago. Perhaps they are an associate of a time and a world long-forgotten. A past friend or foe or—”

“A lover?” you supply. You’re not sure you mean to say it.

But Amren’s grey eyes slide to you, and one side of her mouth lifts into a wicked grin, bearing sharp white teeth. “Does that surprise you?”

“Yes. No. I suppose I know nothing of your personal relationships. Of what you like.”

“I like what I like, and I hate what I don’t like.”

You stare at her, thoroughly annoyed and thoroughly entertained. Speaking with Amren is so often trickery and riddles. No matter how much you may feel like you’re getting somewhere, she always leads you on a merry dance that circles you back to the first step.

“And what of you?” she asks, surprising you.

Your eyes snag on the way her razor-sharp black hair moves as she angles her head. The ends tickle the column of her long, creamy neck, adorned with a jewelled necklace. For one moment, for some reason, the sight makes your head empty.

But you shake yourself out of the bizarre reaction and ask, “What of me?”

“What do you like?” Amren asks.

You almost snort as you take a long sip of your wine. Amren is simply not somebody who asks questions about other people very often. And the topic of your love life seems like one that would be trivial and pointless to her.

“Are you asking because you want to know?” you smile. “Or to be polite?”

Another flash of those brilliant teeth. “Have you ever known me to be polite?”

“I suppose not, no.”

“So tell me, girl, what takes your fancy?”

Draining your glass, you set it aside and lounge back, bracing yourself on your hands. And perhaps the wine is already commanding your mind and blurring lines — because it tells you to glance down at the full lips in front of you, painted with red that’s deepened by the dark nectar she sips at.

You do.

Amren watches. The air seems to shift.

“Pour me another glass,” your voice comes out huskier than you intend, “and I’ll tell you.”

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

“Lions?”

Rare, for Amren to sound like anything besides being perpetually bored. An hour or so later — and too many glasses later — the two of you are sprawled back on the rug, staring at the ceiling.

“Helion keeps lions?” she turns her head to quirk an eyebrow at you.

“Yes,” you answer with a laugh in your voice. “Very real, very fucking huge lions.”

“I rather thought that Pegasuses were his thing.”

“They are. But his lions are a prided jewel of his — and a court secret that I absolutely should not be sharing with you.”

Her petite, lithe body rolls onto its side. She crooks her arm at the elbow and rests her chin there, staring at you through glazed, grey eyes.

It takes only a beat of eye contact for you both to break into laughter.

This is…unusual. And nice. Though the two of you have undoubtedly been growing closer, Amren always has a glass wall up that allows you to peer through but not penetrate. Tonight is the first night that you feel that…that you might be on the other side of that wall. That she might be letting her guard down for you.

You like it. A lot.

The laughter thinning out, she stares at you. It’s a little strange to see those sharp, angled features not appear harsh and ready to slice at anyone. She appears…open. Almost normal.

“Lions,” she repeats, in something like wonderment. “And they just roam about his private estate? Are they tame?”

“He has sprawls of private land on which they can roam freely,” you tell her. “That land is guarded very well, from anyone he doesn’t wish to share the sight with. The lions are very tame. There’s a rumour — though I never got Helion to confirm it — that they once walked on two legs and spoke our language. That thousands of years ago, a curse bound them to their feline form that even Helion’s vast libraries hold no answer to cracking. And since they weren’t able to break the curse, he and his predecessors set to ensure that they would, at least, always be safe and accommodated and able to live comfortably as they are. If it’s true, they seem perfectly happy in their lion bodies.”

“So Helion allowed you access to them? What are they like?”

You smile — at the images that the question conjures up, and the fact that you hold Amren’s interest enough for her to ask it at all. It makes you feel…proud, somehow. Like the cat that got the cream.

“Amazing,” you rest your arms behind your head, taking yourself back to that private land on which you spent so much time — just you and the lions. “They’re just…regal. The males have huge, brilliant manes. The females are so lithe and elegant. The cubs are painfully adorable. There are families of them. Sometimes, they fight. Often, they play. They love to snooze in the sun and frolic in the long grass. The youngsters love splashing each other in the lake. If they recognise you as someone they can trust, you can comfortably sit with them and stroke their fur. They especially like you if you bring them food.”

There’s such a long pause as Amren takes in your words that after a short while, your eyes slide to her, half expecting to find her asleep. But she simply stares at you. Quiet. Assessing.

“I think I would like to see lions,” she says after a moment. To her, it seems to be a huge confession. Something not easy to admit.

You study the perfect lines of her face. That face that appears in your thoughts when you’re trying to sleep, think about absolutely anything but her. You’re not sure you like how drawn you are to her. She’s so unreachable that it only makes you reach harder. So difficult to work out that sometimes, you question if she delights in your company at all.

It is, after all, you who always seeks her out. Since you began your research together, it’s been you who has found excuses to see her.

You who barged your way into her home tonight, while stars collided above you.

And you who might do something unwise if you stay any longer.

You clear your throat, breaking eye contact. Your head feels as though it’s filled with cotton as you sit up and announce, “Perhaps I should go.”

Amren pauses. “Why?”

“I didn’t mean to take up your entire evening.”

“You could stay,” she also sits up, tucking her legs beneath her. “You never did tell me what it is you like.”

You take a moment to just…breathe. You’re not used to Amren being so…warm. It’s dangerous. Exciting. You don’t know if it’s safe.

Slowly, you turn on the floor to face her. “I’m not sure you’d appreciate the answer.”

A dark eyebrow arches. She likes doing that. “Tell it to me anyway.”

Should you? Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad thing. Maybe you’ll tell her that thoughts of her keep you awake, not in the forms of nightmares but in the allure of fantasies. Maybe then she’ll cease all work she does with you, and distance herself from you, and you can rid yourself of these feelings—

“You are what I like,” you speak quickly, flushing hot. “Who I like. I was thankful when Rhysand tasked us to work together, because I was already drawn to you. It seems I can’t stay away—”

A flash of dark hair, the potent scent of perfume and wine, are the only warnings you get before Amren is in your face, her perfect mouth sliding over yours. Wine is the overpowering taste of the kiss, but there are hints of other things behind it — sweet vanilla and something floral.

It takes you by surprise, no doubt. But you push the shock away and sink into the rightness of it. Your shoulders slump, body loosening. You slide a hand up to tentatively cup Amren’s cheek, and you kiss her back.

What starts out slow and explorative quickly builds into something that steals the very air from your lungs. Your bodies seem to move in perfect synchronisation, finding the right positions from which the kiss can deepen and grow. Amren kneels between your legs, and a sharp tooth gives the slightest, twinging bite to your lower lip — one that makes you gasp.

The act is deliberate. She slides her tongue into your mouth, folding it around yours. Your tastes mingle until you’re not sure which is yours and which is hers, and that simply will not do. You want her on your tongue. The flavour of her skin and that scent of hers that is quickly growing stronger, thicker, shifting into something else that you would commit sins to taste.

Your fingers sink into Amren’s hair, and she makes a low noise that could be a warning or a plea. The strands, despite always looking sharp enough to slice through rock, are silken, soft. You fist them in your palm and tilt her head back to kiss her deeper.

But she pulls away, her heavy breaths landing on your lips. Her eyes meet yours, and it’s the first time you see her looking anything besides…steeled. Composed.

She looks flustered. Like pulling away from your mouth was the last thing she wanted to do.

“I don’t know what this means,” she blurts.

The admission makes you pause. You agree, “Neither do I.”

“No—not just this. What you do to me. I don’t know what any of this means,” she narrows her eyes at you, almost accusatory. “Emotions like these have always felt pointless to me, but you…”

“…but me?”

“You…” the word is leaden on her tongue. “You are different.”

Her gaze slides to your mouth again, and you can tell that her comfort is in articulating her feelings with actions, not words.

And that is just fine by you.

Like she reads the encouragement straight from your thoughts, a breathy word escapes her. “Yes.”

And then she’s fastening her lips on yours again and stamping out every shred of confusion. No matter what either of you are unable to say, the dance of your mouths can speak it all. For now, no more than that is necessary.

Amren kisses you, and you kiss her. It’s deep, desperate, yearning. It’s bigger than anything and everything. The stars that race through the sky pale in comparison.

This is the real beauty of this night. The real thing you had hoped for. It could end no better way.

You kiss until your mouths are bruised and tender. Until the taste of wine is gone, and there’s nothing but the two of you on your tongues. For all you know, the rest of the world outside this apartment could have disappeared. You’re not sure you care.

You’re the one to pull away this time, but you don’t move far. You part your lips to gulp down breaths and press your forehead to Amren’s. Your voice is a rasp as you joke, “You better not be kissing me just so I’ll show you the lions.”

She laughs — actually laughs. It’s a short, brusque chortle, but it makes you glow with pride.

But she quickly sobers. Her face is serious once more, her eyes drinking you in.

“I’m kissing you, girl,” she says, “because I think about you too much. Because the very first time I laid eyes on you, it scared me — what I might do to look at you forever.”

You try to mask your surprise. You hadn’t realised—

“It was me who suggested to Rhysand that you and I should work together,” she admits. She pulls back a little, as if urging you to read the honesty on her face. “It felt pathetic and foolish, but I did it to be close to you. I can’t stop myself wanting to be close to you.”

Exactly the same feelings you had tortured yourself with all this time. To think that Amren had agonised over it just as you had is comforting, somehow.

You reach out a hand, pinching a strand of her soft hair between your fingers. She watches the action closely.

“Don’t stop yourself wanting it,” you say, not at all sure that it isn’t a plea. “Don’t stop yourself, when I want it, too.”

“…I’m not used to being…unsure of things.”

“Embrace it,” you offer a smile. “Have fun with it.” With me.

She stares at you, brooding and calculating. You wait for her to decide that this is too out of the realms of familiarity. She won’t allow herself to be so vulnerable.

But then she moves her hand to yours — the one still touching her hair. Slowly, tentatively, she laces your fingers together. She stares down at your joined hands as though the sight is alien, fascinating.

“Stay,” she eventually says, glancing up at you. There’s an undertone in her voice, an inference.

“…the entire night?” you hedge. You try to keep the hopefulness out of your tone.

Her red lips lift into a smirk, grey eyes glimmering. “On one condition.”

“Name your price.”

Your heart picks up as she leans in again. Her hair tickles your cheek, and she watches closely as your skin flushes at the proximity. Her lips hover against yours.

But instead of kissing you, she whispers four words that land straight on your waiting mouth.

“Show me the lions.”

[hwallazia]

MAKE-UP SEX – 정우영

synopsis . in which the lack of attention from wooyoung was suffocating you. he’d have to compensate you somehow. and fortunately, he knows exactly what you need.

pairing . jung wooyoung & fem! reader

genre . smut (mdni!), fluff, comfort, established relationship, non idol!au

word count . 2,7k

DISCLAIMER! switch!woo, switch!reader (both are switches bc i can’t imagine it any other way), foreplay, fingering, unprotected sex (don’t do this irl!), dry humping, dirty talk, praise oh so much praise, nicknames (love, baby, princess, & more), deepthroat, just the two of them being two fools in love <3

NIC’S NOTES i initially wrote this in spanish for arisu from alice in borderland, and i randomly reread it today and wooyoung was the only thing that came straight to my mind. him being all whiny and dominant at the same time??? where do i pay?

Wooyoung was right next to you. As always, he was enjoying his video games during the weekend, he had his headphones on and the microphone just a few inches away from his lips.

He insulted and shouted, causing you discomfort, which is why you looked for your headphones to listen to music, looking for a way to overshadow your boyfriend’s voice.

You couldn't blame him. You knew how much his video games meant to him, and how little time he had for them now that he started working.

You met him during high school, and fell deeply in love with him in your senior year. You had to confess your feelings to him immediately, before you parted ways and it was too late.

One lovely, chilly night you did it, you pulled up the courage and said those two words, which would change your lives forever.

“I like you. I like you a lot, Wooyoung.” you avoided eye contact at all costs. You couldn't allow yourself to see your loved one's gaze trying to reject you, in case the feelings weren't mutual. All those insecurities vanished with the wind that there was at that time of the night.

“I… I like you too, y/n.”

You finally looked at him. There was something special in his gaze, hundreds of galaxies collapsing into his orbs and illuminating them, more than the buildings and traffic lights that were scattered throughout Seoul that night.

“A-are you serious?” you questioned. Everything felt unreal, you needed him to say it one more time, maybe then your heart would hit the, now, sweet ground of reality.

“Yes, beautiful. I like you, a lot as well.”

You swore you could die right there. You would finally have him to yourself, something toxic of you, but it was what you wanted most: for Jung Wooyoung to have eyes for no one but you.

What could you say? You liked the attention, and even more so if it was his attention.

After months of dating, on one of the few dates you had in that period of time, he asked you to live together.

“Oh? Isn't that a bit hasty? How will we maintain the house? And the food?” so many things were running through your mind that they made you forget who you were talking to. Wooyoung.

“Hasty? Sweetheart, I’ve worked hard since we started dating to finally live with you, and only you. I even got a job!”

“A job? Are you serious?” you expressed, a smile starting to be drawn on your pink, plump lips.

“Damn right I am. You're looking at the new 8TEEZ’ choreographer, dear.” he announced with a certain tone of arrogance that could only scream “Jung Wooyoung”.

“Choreographer? Love, that's amazing.” you rushed at him, knocking him down the green grass of that park where you were holding your date.

“You’re definitely the love of my life.” he murmured, his fingers stroking your long dark hair.

And this memory is what brings us to the present. Your loved one was resting his body in the comfortable gaming chair you gave him for his 25th birthday, it embraced his anatomy as if it didn't want to let him go —he didn't really want to get up from his comfortable seat either. “Shit!” you heard him shout, despite having your headphones on with music at a moderate volume. You sighed and then saw it, the big screen painted with blood stains and ‘Game Over’ written in a somewhat crooked letter.

“Ugh, I almost had it.” he exhaled to turn to see you. “Love, did you see how—”

His words were cut off when he saw how your gaze did not show the same adorable, big eyes that characterized you, but had now transformed into an annoying, and somehow penetrating look.

“I screamed a lot, didn't I?” he shrugged his shoulders like a little kid, afraid that you would scold him.

“What do you think?” your tone was notoriously angry, yet you had to inhale and exhale a generous amount of air since you didn’t want to yell at him to fuck off. “Wooyoung, try to stay somewhat quiet, not even the headphones can overshadow your voice.”

“’M sorry, babe.”

He took off his headphone set and placed it on the small dark oak nightstand located a few meters away from him. He pushed himself up with his feet to approach the edge of your shared bed, and settle himself behind you. He adjusted himself so that you were between his legs, enveloping you with his strong arms.

“What are you doing?”

“Reading, maybe this way I can unwind” you took off your glasses to clean its glass in three quick seconds and put them back on the back of your nose. You looked at your partner's dark and beautiful orbs and noticed how they moved from side to side slowly, apparently reading the book’s pages. You immediately turned off the screen of your tablet and looked at him in the eyes. “Do you remember what I asked you a few hours ago?”

“Hum, would there be a problem if I said no?” he gave you an innocent smile with his barely curved eyebrows.

“Yes, there is. I asked you if you wanted to cook with me,” a sigh leaving your lips “During these last few weeks, I’ve been trying to do things with you, but your routine is always work, video games, eat and sleep. It's fucking annoying.” you finally confessed everything you had stuck down your throat for the last three weeks. Not being able to see his face made it, somehow, more comfortable for you to tell him your feelings. “I know I have to be comprehensive and all that shit but lately, this has been unbearable”.

“Oh, sweetness. I'm so sorry” he hid his face in the hole formed in your collarbone, resting his cheek on the side of your neck “I promise to compensate you for everything, beautiful.”

“You promise?” now you rested your right cheek against his messy raven hair.

“Mmhm,” he claimed, “And you know what, I'm starting right now.”

And with that, he began to leave a nice trail of wet kisses along your neck. A small gasp slid down your tongue, this just being the fuel for your lover’s plan. He stayed like that for a few seconds, his nose smelling your intoxicating scent until he went up to your ear and lick its lobe.

“Have I already told you how beautiful you are?” he kissed the back of your neck, licking where his lips had passed.

“Woo— Ah, w-what do you intend to do? Mhpm—”

“Make up for lost time, pretty.”

Even though you couldn't see his face, you could feel his arrogant smile. He loved knowing the power he had over you, how much he could turn you on with just a couple of his kisses.

And sure enough, you were melting under his touch, his heavenly touch.

“Babe— A-ah.” nonsenses were escaping your lips. Though talking was practically impossible you still tried to. But fuck didn’t he had you fucked out with just a few touches.

Before you could realize it, he slid his hand under the silk sheets which only covered your legs, dragging his middle finger and ring finger towards your clit, which was beginning to get wet under his touch.

“Wooyoung, oh fuck” you hissed “You know how sensitive I am there- Ahh!”

You finally discovered what he was trying to do, and maybe a fetish of his: interrupt you so you would moan more. In broad terms, fewer words and more pleasure. Maybe you could take advantage of that and get what you wanted.

Your lover moved his phalanges with agility and mastery over your soft, pinky button. At this point, it was funny to you that moment where you asked him "Are you a virgin?" and he quickly denied —he had only fucked once. He now looks like a fucking playboy, satisfying you so well.

“You're soaked, gorgeous.” he whispered “Is this the effect I have on you? Do you like me that much?”

He mumbled before directing his left hand to your nipple to pinch it and rub it against his fingers. Your back arching accordingly.

“God, yes Wooyoung yes. You make me feel s-so good, love.”

You knew how much it drove your boyfriend crazy when you complimented him or verbally told him how good he made you feel. He responded with a growl, attacking your neck.

A couple of minutes were enough for you to feel your orgasm coil in your stomach, making your thighs fall into desperation. Finally, you let your anatomy rest on his chest, completely surrendering to him.

“Are you close, pretty?” you moaned in response “It seems so, you’re trembling so much.”

“W…Wooyoung, shut your mouth— ngh!”

His left hand, which was previously occupied satisfying your nipple, abandoned it, to grab your jaw and finally bring you together in a wet kiss. He inserted his tongue in a few seconds later, drawing a gasp from you. Wooyoung was the one who dominated in that dance between tongues.

“Cum for me, beautiful.” he whispered millimeters from your swollen lips.

Once he gave the order, you came. Your body trembling against him, his cock rubbing against your lower back thanks to your little convulsions from overstimulation. Wooyoung made sure to help you ride your orgasm, his lips leaving a trail of soft kisses down your neck as he whispered the sweetest things to you.

“Look at all the mess you made on my fingers. Since you are a bit tired, I’ll do your job and clean them up for you.”

He guided the fingers he put into activity to make you cum towards his lips, so he could suck and lick them, his tongue savoring your exquisite essence. You could hear him slurping on his fingers which only made you even more aroused. Your back arching a little, separating it from the lump that was crashing against it.

“Wooyoung-ah, I want to suck you off.” your words impressing your boyfriend “I want to make you feel good too.”

“Oh yeah? Go ahead, darling. I’m all yours.”

He settled against the headboard of the bed while you turned and crawled in reverse to reach the height of prominent tent. Wooyoung felt his heart skip a beat when he saw you on doggy style with your glasses on.

Someone is developing a lot of fetishes in a very short time.

You pulled down his blue shorts along with his underwear, freeing his erection which had been uncomfortably covered for a while now.

You didn't hesitate to massage it a little and put it all at once into your oral cavity. You were going to give him the best deepthroat he ever had in his life. A growl crept into his throat.

“Holy fuck, you’re so good baby. You have no idea how perfect you look right now.”

You were so excited by that compliment that you began to suck it and lick it as if it were a lollipop. You massaged his balls to increase his pleasure, and also for him to praise you more.

“Does that feel good, handsome?” a smirk drawn on your lips.

“It feels so- ngh! So good... Your mouth was made for my cock, baby.”

His right hand was positioned in your hair to gently grab it. His chest rose and fell rapidly, clearly telling you that he was close to cum. You took it out of your mouth to run your tongue over the tip of his member, making him tremble. The man felt as if he had been electrified, this was accompanied by a loud moan.

“If… If you keep doing that— a-agh, I'm not gonna last long.” he said softly, his hand caressing your scalp.

You raised your gaze to meet his eyes full of lust and lasciviousness, the shine that characterized your boyfriend's orbs was replaced by a small flame, which could only represent how horny he was and how much he needed to make you his. His face had a strong blush, minimal drops of sweat sliding down his temple due to the cold of the season.

The state of him alone made you think how cute he was.

“Do what? This?” you directed your lips to welcome him into the heat of your cavity and then slid your tongue again and repeatedly, making his breathing heavier and drawing more moans out of him.

“I'm gonna cum, a-ah fuck. Take it all like a good girl.

You watched as he squeezed his other hand, which rested at your side, his knuckles were painted a pretty white, just like your face at that moment.

A strip of cum hit the roof of your mouth, scaring you due to your lack of concentration. You quickly pulled it out to swallow your boyfriend's white essence, you thought that was it since you had swallowed too much, like a shot of juice, but no. You were impressed when Wooyoung's long strips of cum also reached your cheek, lips, and the glasses’ glass making you gasp in astonishment. Your boyfriend was able to speak when he finally came down his high.

“Love... You look so beautiful with... With my cum on your glasses.”

Something ignited inside you. Your cunt was already dripping non-stop, and you needed even more contact with Wooyoung. So you straightened up, remaining on your knees in front of him, two steps were enough for you to bring your intimacy closer to his flaccid cock.

Wooyoung watched you expectantly, thinking you would rub against him, but was surprised when you grabbed his cock and lined it up against your dripping cunt.

“W-wait, I'm still a little sensitive- ng-ahh!”

You finally sat on him, joining you into one. Several moans and pleas slipped past Wooyoung’s lips, and you decided to seal his prayers with your sweet lips.

“D-darling, you're... so tight. It's too much, hah.” his breathing getting heavier and heavier.

“Do you want me to stop, sweetheart?”

“Don’t you even think about it.”

You laughed at his quick response as if you had pressed a button and an automatic voice responded. His fingers were nailed to your hip, trying to restrain himself and not lose his sanity.

You rode his cock as your life depended on it, you felt him scrape against your walls. Eventually his tip touching your cervix, drawing a loud moan from you as you increased the speed of your jumps.

“Is that the spot, baby?”

“Oh yeah, shit. You're so deep, Woo. Ngh.”

His mischievous hand left your left hip to grab the back of your neck and unite you tightly in a kiss, his tongue and yours dancing again.

Meanwhile, his right hand also released your hip to go to your clit and rub it, your cunt squeezing deliciously his member consequently. Both moaning in the middle of the kiss.

“Don't touch there, ngh Woo— ahhh!” you screamed, finally cumming. Seconds later, he did the same, this time gripping harshly onto your hip.

After a few minutes of rest, he held you as if you were a plastic bag and settled the both of you into the bed. Now you were lying face to face against him, his strong arms wrapping your anatomy once again.

He reached for the sheet that covered you before to throw it over the two of you, and you were warmly tucked in.

You sighed before settling down and laying your head on his chest, while he stroked your hair. You were about to close your eyes when your partner moved in place.

“Love. You're still inside.” you punctuated, Wooyoung didn't seem surprised, in fact, it seemed as if you had caught him.

“Aw, can't I stay inside? You feel so warm and so... good.” he murmured, his ears and cheeks blushing slightly. A sigh left your lips.

“Hah, okay. But tomorrow we’ll take a bath. Now we shouldn't feel it because of the cold, but we're probably disgusting.

“As my princess desires.”

A giggle slipped through your red, swollen lips, finally resting your head against his chest, close your eyes, and fall into an abysmal sleep.

“One day I’ll put a ring on that precious finger of yours.” you managed to hear before falling asleep.

Due to tiredness, you only managed to mumbled a dull “hmm”, kiss his chest and let out a small, cute giggle.

“Looking forward to it, love.” you continued, “I love you.”

| masterlist

[thatgirlstrawberry]

The Shoebox Under The Bed

Feb. Request-8

In which Spencer has a box of all of the things Y/N had ever given him and she finds it

Warnings: fluff, kissing, cursing, he gets a lil embarrassed

Spencer Reid x fem!reader

“Babe, do you know where my white heels are?” Y/N asked, walking through her and Spencer’s apartment wearing nothing but one of his shirts and a pair of socks.

It was Valentine’s Day and they had dinner plans. “Uh… check the bedroom closet?” He called from the kitchen.

Y/N hummed and she walked into the kitchen. “Are you excited?” She asked, standing on her tippy toes and kissing his neck innocently.

Spencer smiled and leaned down to kiss her. “So excited.” He nodded.

Y/N damn near squealed. “This is our first Valentine’s together since we moved in with each other!” She said, poking his chest.

“Baby, I love that you’re so excited but it’s 9 am. We don’t have dinner until 7 tonight.” He chuckled.

Y/N rolled her eyes with a smile. “I knoooooow….” She drew out. “I just wanna be ready. Last year I left my place super late and we almost lost our reservation.”

Spencer shook his head. “Okay, babe. Whatever makes you feel better.”

Y/N squeaked and tore away from him, going to look for her shoes.

In the room, she had searched high and low for those heels but hadn’t even found one.

She sighed and spun around, collapsing on the bed. She shut her eyes, groaning loudly.

After a moment, her left eye peeked open when she got an idea. She got off of the bed and got on her hands and knees next to it. She bit her lip and lifted her arm up to feel around for her phone on her bedside table.

She hummed in victory when she grabbed it and brought it down, turning the flash light feature on.

Underneath the bed lit up and she smiled. She moved clothes and blankets out of the way before her eyes lit up. The black shoebox sat there with a picture of the particular heel she was looking for.

She grabbed it and pulled it out from underneath the bed, opening the box quickly. She was expecting a shoe or two but instead she found a stack of Polaroids, letters, jewelry and a bunch of other tiny gadgets.

She bit her lip when she pulled one of the Polaroids out and studied it. She had been obsessed with taking pictures of things with her camera. In this one, Spencer was holding a lemon and wearing a big wicker sun hat. Why? She couldn’t remember but she smiled and laughed anyway. She remembered she gave it to him on the last day of 7th grade.

Spencer and Y/N grew up together. They realized that they were in love at a very young age.

She looked behind her to make sure that Spencer wasn’t watching from the kitchen and then pulled out one of the letters.

She smiled as she saw the little star she’d drawn by her name.

May 23

Dear Spence,

It’s been a while since I’ve seen you. I still have that sweater you leant me last winter. I wear it all the time. I wish the summer would be over so I can see you again. The last letter you sent me, you said you would come back soon but July 17th isn’t soon enough.

Anyway, how’s your Einstein summer camp going? I read that they teach you how to read minds there. Is it true? If so, can you tell me what I’m thinking about now?

I also got cast as Wendy in our schools summer theater program in Peter Pan. If you make it back home in time you might be able to catch closing night. I hope you can. I would love to look out when we’re doing our bows and see you there.

Anyway, I gotta go. We’re running lines.

See you at my show!

Love

From Y/N <3

She rolled her eyes, wondering why she’d scratched the end out even though Spencer could clearly read it. She tossed the letter aside and bit her lip, digging through the box some more.

Her eyes lit up when she picked up a stupid charm bracelet she’d made for him in fifth grade. It had a pair of glasses next to a star and a bead that had an ‘S’ in the middle.

Her tongue pressed into the inside of her bottom lip as she tied off the end of the elastic string. She glanced behind her seeing Spencer reading a book.

Her heart pounded as she turned and walked towards him. “Uhm… Spencer?” She cleared her throat. He looked up at her, pushing up his glasses.

“I-oh hi, Y/N!” He smiled setting his book down.

She held out the bracelet to him, closing her eyes. “I made this for you.” She spoke quickly.

He took it from her gently and her eyes opened. “Thanks! This is really nice.” He nodded at her.

Y/N smiled to herself, peeking behind her again just to make sure Spencer was still occupied in the kitchen.

The next thing she pulled out was a sock.

Yes, a sock.

Spencer in exchange for a book he was reading asked for something that Y/N held near and dear to her heart. She gave him a sock with Stitch from Lilo and Stitch. She almost cried giving it to him and he almost caved and let her keep it AND the book but she told him that it was fine.

She never gave the book back, he never returned her sock.

She put the sock back in the box and kept digging finding a really dried up daisy flower and a wrapper to a Crunch bar amongst many many other things. She paused when she felt something different.

It was a small velvet box. She pulled it out slowly, biting her lip. “What the fuck?” She whispered. She swallowed, opening the box and almost gasped.

A ring and a receipt sat inside that box. The ring was beautiful. It had a rose gold band with a rose colored diamond—a big ass diamond. She read the receipt, not paying attention to the price but the date.

He had bought that ring ten years before. They hadn’t even been dating then.

Her mouth was agape, she was so in shock that she didn’t even hear Spencer coming.

“Babe did you find your sh— oh my fucking shit.” He groaned. Y/N looked up at him slowly.

“Oh my God, Spencer, I’m so sorry!” She said, shutting the box quickly and shoving back underneath the piles of letters and other stuff. “I was just looking for my shoes, I swear!”

Spencer chuckled and sighed, walking over to sit on the bed in front of her. She bit her lip smiling at him, completely disregarding the ring. “You kept all the stuff I gave you.” She said quietly.

He reached down to cup her cheek. “Of course I did.”

She shut her eyes. “And you bought a ring.” She shook her head, her face heating up. “You bought a ring 10 years ago— we were 15 Spencer!” She smiled.

He blushed. “Well… I just— i knew that it was you, Y/N/N. Ever since you made me that charm bracelet in 5th grade.” He shrugged. “So, I saved up all my money from working at the ice cream shack that one summer and I went and bought it.”

Y/N stared into his eyes with a soft smile on her lips. “I love you.” She whispered.

Spencer smiled and leaned forward to kiss her deeply. “I love you.” He said in between kisses. “But you’re gonna have to wait for me to propose because that was the plan for tonight.” He chuckled.

Y/N rolled her eyes playfully. “Fine.”

So at the end of the night, Spencer proposed to her in front of a bunch of people at the restaurant. She acted like she had no idea it was gonna happen so they’d get free cake.

[shakespeareanwannabe]

As You Wish, Chapter 2

Summary: When arriving at Camp Silver Star, Abby Floyd was anticipating a summer of adventure with an ocean separating her from the three people she loved most: her mom, her Uncle Bob and her Aunt Natasha. But after a run in with Charlie Seresin, an extremely familiar looking and irritating camper in a different cabin, her summer plans take a turn that neither girl ever could have expected.

Trigger Warnings: reader's children are described as being blond with green eyes because genetics are wild and Jake's genes are strong, reader is canonically Bob's sister, reader goes by Buttercup and is tattooed, verbal arguing, swearing, medical misinformation (I did my best y'all), pregnancy

Sharp Memorial Hospital, 12 Years Ago

“Buttercup!”

She gasped as the curtain to her room was drawn back quickly, revealing a stressed-out looking lieutenant and a sheepish looking older brother.

“Jake! I’m okay, I swear…”

“You passed out!” Jake exclaimed, rounding the hospital bed to stand by her side. “And they called Bob?”

She sighed, her fingers tapping anxiously at the tape securing the IV to her arm. “I’ve been here for, like, four months, babe. And it all happened kinda quickly, so I haven’t exactly had a chance to change my emergency contact yet.”

Jake reached out to grip her hand and leaned down to kiss her forehead. “Do me a favour and at least add me to that list? I almost had a fucking heart attack when I landed, and Bob told me that you were in the damn hospital.”

Bob pushed his glasses up his nose as she turned her attention to him. “You’re welcome, by the way,” he muttered. “Are you okay, Buttercup?”

She grinned at the begrudging use of the nickname. Ever since Jake had bestowed it upon her that night, it was like her real name ceased to exist. Everyone called her Buttercup, despite Bob’s best efforts.

“I’m fine, you two worrywarts,” she rolled her eyes fondly as Bob scoffed and Jake squeezed her hand more firmly. “I got a little lightheaded at the bar and turned a little too quickly on my barstool. I was only out for like a second, but Penny wouldn’t let it go. Something about Mav being overprotective of his squad or something. She’s somewhere out there—” she motioned vaguely out the curtained doorway. “—filling out paperwork.”

“What were you doing at the bar?” Jake seated himself on the edge of her bed, green eyes turning stern. “You promised me that you were going to take it easy today, remember? I didn’t drag your ass to the doctor yesterday because you said you were “almost over this stupid flu”, and I only agreed because you promised you’d do jack shit today.”

Buttercup pouted at him, crossing her arms as best she could with one arm hosting the IV and Jake not releasing her hand. “I got bored,” she mumbled. “Plus, I thought the quick walk in the sun and fresh air would do me good!”

Jake groaned. “You’ll be the death of me, I swear to god. Next time, at least call someone to go with you.”

“Sure, Jake. I’m sure the Navy will understand you needing to take your girlfriend on a walk,” she rolled her eyes. “I’m a big girl. I can handle myself.”

“Clearly,” Jake shot back, gesturing around the curtained-off room.

“Alright, easy, you two,” Bob sighed, stepping further into the room. “Seresin, you can’t expect her to wait around for us to do stuff. What do you expect her to do when we get deployed?” Jake’s face fell for a split second before smoothing out into that unflappable mask he had mastered long ago. “And kiddo? Bagman might not show it ever, but he is a human being, which means he can be scared, and I’m pretty sure the news that you landed yourself here scared a decade off him. So, go easy on him, will you?”

She looked at her brother for a moment before sighing, nodding slightly, and turning back to Jake. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, squeezing his hand. “I’ll be more careful.”

He squeezed it back, lifting their linked hands to press a kiss to the back of her hand. “I’m sorry too. I’m not tryin’ to be controlling, I just…I don’t wanna see you hurt.”

Bob huffed and took a step back. “I’m going to go find Penny and see if she needs help with that paperwork.”

“Thanks Bobby,” she smiled softly at him. He winked playfully at her before turning his back and strolling out of the room, tugging the curtain closed behind him.

“What has the doctor said?” Jake brushed his hand over her cheek, tugging her attention back to him. “Any more dizzy spells? Do you need anything?”

“Easy, tiger, one question at a time. The doctor said I was pretty dehydrated from all the vomiting I’ve done over the past couple of days, and that was what probably caused the blackout. But he had a nurse draw some blood and they’re testing to see if it could be anything else.” She rubbed his arm reassuringly. “I’m a little dizzy still, but the fluids are helping. And I’m still pretty nauseated but they don’t want to give me anything until they get the test results back.” Jake nodded, his jaw ticking just once as his eyes raked over her face. “I’m okay, Jake. I promise.”

Buttercup kept up the soft pressure of her hand running up and down his arm until the mask he wore slipped and he sighed deeply. “I’m sorry I was a dick. I just want you to feel better.”

“I know, baby. I’m sorry I got snippy.”

“No, you shouldn’t have to apologize. You’re the one in the hospital bed.” His thumb gently rubbed back and forth along the back of her hand. “God, I hate fighting with you though.”

A slow grin tugged at the edges of her lips. “Me too. Especially when I’m stuck in this bed and we can’t make up properly.”

A low groan rumbled in his chest as he leaned in closer. “Don’t tempt me.”

Peals of laughter tumbled from her lips as she angled her head to brush her nose against his. “I don’t suppose a kiss would tide you over, Lieutenant Insatiable?”

“Hmm, I don’t know, darlin’. We’d have to try it out.”

Jake’s lips chased hers as he leaned over her, pushing her back against the flimsy mattress with the force of his kiss. Her tongue traced the seam of his mouth, and she felt a bolt of electricity spark through her body when his mouth stretched into a smile against hers. He linked their fingers together as she deepened the kiss, his free hand coming around to cradle the back of her neck.

“Alright, Miss Floyd, why don’t we go over those test results?”

Jake pulled away as a doctor clad in purple scrubs hustled into the room, her hands rubbing together as the scent of sanitizer wafted over them.

“Hey, doctor. Sorry, we didn’t meet earlier. Lieutenant Jake Seresin,” Jake greeted, his mask sliding back into place as he stretched one arm out to shake her hand.

“It’s nice to meet you, Lieutenant. And it’s nice to meet you as well, Miss Floyd. I’m Dr. Friedman and I’ll be taking over your case,” the woman greeted, shaking his hand before turning to fiddle with some equipment. “I hope you don’t mind; we just have a few more tests to run.”

“N-no, that’s fine…” Buttercup shrugged uneasily. “Did something happen to Dr. Scott? I thought he was the one handling my case today?”

“Dr. Scott is just fine. He got called into an all hands on deck situation and, since I was already working with a regular patient of mine down here in the ED, he passed your case off to me since it falls under my specialty. Do you mind lifting your gown for me, dear?”

As the doctor turned, Jake’s keen green eyes darted between three different things. One, the ultrasound wand in the doctor’s hand. Two, the medieval looking metal device she had placed next to his girlfriend on her bed. And three, the neat white stitching on the breast of her scrubs that read Dr. Laurie Friedman, Doctor of Obstetrics and Gynecology.

“Dr. Friedman?” Jake felt his heart sputter, then race in his chest as he squeezed Buttercup’s hand. “You’re a…I mean, your specialty…” He looked down at Buttercup, but she was staring at the white stitching as well.

“Yes, Lieutenant. As I’m sure Dr. Scott told you, Miss Floyd’s blood and urine tests came back positive for hcG, so he called for an OB consult. Since I was already here, I figured I would pop in and run the tests for him while he’s dealing with the overflow of patients we just received. This will be a little cold, dear,” the doctor soothed, draping a paper towel over Buttercup’s underwear before squeezing the gel onto her stomach. “Now, if the blood and urine tests aren’t lying to us, we should…” She moved the wand around, either obtuse to or completely ignoring the look on her patient’s (and the lieutenant’s) face. “There!”

She turned the screen to face the young couple. “Your blood test confirmed the pregnancy, but the high levels of hcG in your blood gave Dr. Scott pause. There’s baby number one…” she pointed to a tiny speck on the screen. “And there…is baby number two.”

The first week of living in the isolation cabin (affectionately known as ‘The Brig’) was absolute misery. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, the water in the lake was cool and clear, and Abby and Charlie could appreciate none of it, stuck as they were doing clean up chores in the kitchen. Amelia had been assigned to supervision duty, which was mostly making sure the girls did less arguing and more cleaning.

The nights were even worse, with the girls either ignoring each other or screaming the cabin down with insults and taunts. Amelia had also spent that first week sleeping on the small stoop of the cabin in a hammock, or, at least, trying to sleep between arguments.

The only reprieve the girls got was when they headed down to the dining hall and got to sit with their friends. Breakfast, lunch and dinner found Charlie loudly complaining to her friend, Ryann, about how unfair the whole situation was, while Abby sat with Max, and Isabelle clear across the dining hall, her friends doing their best to remind her to stay strong, that she was only barred from group activities for another week, that they would try to sneak her back into their cabin in a few weeks when Penny and Amelia had cooled off a bit. Amelia spent mealtimes hiding in her mother’s office, downing headache medication, and trying to talk her mother out of whatever plan she had concocted.

The second week found the girls at an uneasy truce. Chores duty was quiet, but all the work got done. Evenings were dead silent, the girls opting to ignore each other instead of arguing.

Both girls were excited to go back to group activities on Monday, only to open the cabin door that morning to find dark clouds covering the sun, booming thunder in the distance, and rain falling in ice cold sheets.

“I suppose group activities will be cancelled today,” Abby muttered as she turned to grab her raincoat.

“You think Penny and Amelia will let us join our cabins for rainy day activities?” Charlie grumbled as she surveyed the mucky landscape. “Hell, I’d be okay doing outdoor activities in this! I thought this was supposed to show us what our family members go through in the military? I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t cancel a war because of a little rain.”

Abby giggled in spite of herself. “If they did that, there would never have been any wars in England. It’s always raining there.”

“Eww. That must suck.”

“It really does.”

The two girls locked eyes for a moment before quickly looking away.

“She’s still stuck up! You don’t want to be friends with her!” Charlie thought to herself, pulling on her own raincoat.

“She’s rude and uncouth. Anyone worth being friends with would never say such horrible things. Or try to get into a physical fight with you!” Abby breathed as she held the door open for a drenched Amelia.

“Sorry girls, but you’re not going down to the dining hall today. It’s all flooded, so all campers will be eating in their cabins,” Amelia explained quickly, handing them bottles of juice and a tray of fruit and sandwiches. “I’ve gotta get back to keep an eye on everyone. Please, please promise me you’ll get along today? I’ll be back later with lunch and dinner, and I really don’t want to have to clean up any bloodshed.”

“We promise…”

“Thank you!”

The door swung shut behind her as Amelia took off up the path back to the main camp.

“I’m, uh…I’m gonna have my breakfast over here while I read,” Charlie murmured, awkwardly making eye contact before shuffling away to her bed on one side of the room.

Abby nodded, taking her own breakfast over to her bed and staring out the window before pulling out her scrap book.

Amelia popped back in a few hours later, carrying more sandwiches for lunch, surprise colouring her features at the lack of arguing and tension between the campers.

“You two are handling this better than some of the other kids,” she commented, placing the tray down. “I’ll be back around six with dinner, okay?”

Without stopping to hear their response, she turned and dashed back out the door, just as a gust of wind blew the door wide open, sending everything that wasn’t pinned down in the room flying.

“Crap!” Charlie slammed her book shut quickly as the pages started to rustle. Abby squealed as the pictures in the collage she was working on were strewn about wildly, dancing in the wind.

“Help me with the door!” Charlie cried, bolting over to the creaking wooden door and trying to heave it shut. Her fingernails scrabbled against the wood as she tried to get a good grip on the handle as the door strained against her grip, pulling her this way and that.

“Hold on, I’ve got you!” Abby seized the door handle and they leaned all their weight against the door, sighing in relief as they finally heard the faint click as it shut.

“Th-thanks…” Charlie panted, her arms trembling slightly.

“No…no problem,” Abby sagged against the wall. “You looked like you almost had it though. You’re pretty strong.”

Charlie shrugged. “I work on my dad’s ranch. Obviously, I can’t do a lot of the dangerous jobs, but even the easy stuff takes a lot of strength.”

“That’s pretty cool,” Abby offered, sinking to the floor against the wall. “Does your mum help on the ranch too?”

Charlie looked away as she sank to the floor across from her, feeling the anger rise and then fall inside of her, her body too tired to let it take hold. “No…she doesn’t. I…I don’t know who my mom is. It’s just me, my dad, and my uncles,” she admitted quietly.

“Oh…I…I’m sorry,” Abby felt the blood rush to her cheeks. “I didn’t know. But…it’s okay! My mum always says that every family looks different, and it doesn’t affect how much they love each other.”

“Easy for her to say,” Charlie muttered, looping her arms around her legs, and resting her head against her knees.

Abby bit back an angry retort. She was so tired of fighting, mentally exhausted from the constant sparring with her new roommate. Maybe her mum had been right and fighting back wasn’t the way to go.

“She started saying that to me when I was five years old or so. At least, that’s when I think I started asking about my dad. I…I don’t know who he is either.”

Charlie lifted her head, looking at the girl in front of her. “You don’t?”

Abby shook her head. “For as long as I can remember, it’s been me, my mom, my aunt, and my uncle. But not, like, married aunt and uncle. He’s my mom’s brother, and my aunt is his best friend.”

“Oh…” Charlie looked down, biting her lip. “I guess that means my comment about mommy and daddy buying you riding lessons really sucked, huh?”

“It did. But I shouldn’t have called you a cornfed hick, either.” Abby flushed. “I don’t know why I said that. My mom and uncle are from Kansas, so it’s not like they’re from anywhere fancy.”

“Kansas? Then why do you sound so…Downton Abbey?”

Abby giggled. “My mum moved to London when I was just a baby. She says it was just for a job, but I think she wanted to get away from my dad too. Every time I ask about him, she gets really anxious and sad, my Uncle Bob gets really angry, and my Aunt Natasha has to distract everyone. Eventually, I just stopped asking. But she did promise to talk about him when I get home, so I’m keeping my fingers crossed for answers.”

“My dad does the same thing!” Charlie gasped, moving closer. “I ask about my mom and he gets this really sad look in his eyes, then goes into his office for a few hours! Uncle Roo will eventually go drag him out but then we just pretend I never asked. Uncle Javy acts like he wants to say something, but he doesn’t want to hurt my dad, so he just tells me that all my questions will be answered when I get older.”

“I hate that!” Abby shot onto her knees. “I’m almost 12! How much older do they expect me to get?”

“Right?” Charlie copied her kneeling stance. “I swear, if I don’t get answers on October 11th, I’m going to scream!”

Abby fell back on her heels, almost as though the door had been wrenched open again and she’d been blown back by a gust of wind. “Y-your birthday is October 11th?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“So is mine!”

Charlie blinked at her. Then she blinked again. Then, a third time. “I…am going to go back to reading my book.”

Abby’s shoulders rose with the force of her sigh. “Charlie, why do you keep avoiding this? We look completely alike, we have the same birthday, you have a dad, and I have a mom! Do you know what that all adds up to?”

“One hell of a coincidence,” Charlie replied huffily, picking up her book and leafing through the pages to find where she left off.

“Charlie, come on! You can’t actually believe that!”

Abby waited for a response, but all she got was Charlie raising her book to eye level in order to block her from view.

“Charlie? Please, you know there’s more to it than that!”

Charlie rolled over to face the other direction and Abby felt the anger bolt through her at ten thousand volts.

“Stop. Ignoring. Me!” she stomped around to the other side of Charlie’s bed and wrenched the book away from her.

“Hey! Give me that!” Charlie jumped out of bed as Abby ran over to her side of the cabin.

“No! Not until we figure this out!”

“Figure what out?” Charlie groaned. “We don’t look that much alike, single parent households aren’t that rare, and there are like a billion people on this planet, so obviously some are going to share a birthday!”

“Oh, come on! It’s way more than that!”

Charlie stomped over towards her and shook her head, her blond braid whipping around her face. “No. It’s not. Now give me back my book or I’ll—”

“Or you’ll what?” Abby hopped onto her bed and held the book high in the air.

“I’ll…” Charlie lunged and grabbed Abby’s scrapbook from where it had fallen on the floor. “I’ll hold this hostage until you give it back!”

“No!” Abby gasped. “Please, no! That’s important to me!”

Charlie shrugged. “And my book is important to me. I need something to read, so I guess I’ll just have to make do with this.”

Charlie retreated back onto her side of the cabin and flipped the book open to the first page.

“Fine! Here, take it!” Abby yelled, jumping off the bed and racing over to hand her the book. “Just please, give it back!”

Charlie’s hand shook as she pushed her novel off the scrapbook and onto the bed, her fingers tracing the outline of the figures that were smiling from the picture that decorated the first page.

“Charlie?” Abby asked, half desperate to get her scrapbook back and half confused. “What’s wrong?”

“Why do you have a picture of my uncles in your scrapbook?” she whispered.

“What? That’s a picture of my mum, Auntie Nat, and Uncle Bob,” Abby explained, pointing to each person in turn.

“Not them…” Charlie spoke softly, as though even one decibel too loud would shatter her. “Them.” Charlie pointed at two of the figures on the fringe of the photo. One, a moustachioed man in a pair of aviators, and the other a tall black man with a bright smile and an “I Love Las Vegas” baseball cap covering his cropped black hair. “That’s my Uncle Rooster and my Uncle Javy.”

“What?”

Charlie handed the book back before scrambling to her backpack, digging inside to pull out a folder. “This is my favourite picture of my dad and my uncles. My dad doesn’t know I have it though. I found it when I was fooling around with Uncle Javy, and he gave it to me. He made me promise never to tell my dad that I even knew it existed. I…I think it’s from my dad’s wedding to my mom. Uncle Javy made it seem that way, anyway.”

Charlie opened the folder and pulled out her photo. “That’s my dad, and see? There’s Uncle Roo and Uncle Javy.”

Abby’s shaky finger traced over two other figures who had their arms around each other on the other side of ‘Uncle Roo’. “That’s my Uncle Bob and my Aunt Natasha. Auntie Nat gave me my photo a few years ago when I asked about her about Dagger Squad. But she told me not to tell my mom or my uncle about it. She said that they would be upset.”

“There were taken on the same day,” Charlie murmured, her eyes raking over the photo. “See? The lights in the background, the clothes, the people? They’re all the same.”

“You know what this means, right?” Abby whispered, her finger now tracing over Charlie’s photo, her focus solely on the man in the middle, the man that Charlie had called Dad.

“Abby, it can’t…I don’t…” Charlie swallowed painfully.

“Charlie…I think your dad…was married to my mum.”

A door slamming behind them sent a jolt down both their spines and they spun on the bed to face the intruder.

Amelia set the tray of food down and wiped the water off her face with a sigh. “It’s about time you two figured it out.”

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[delirious-donna]

Ghosts of the Past [Extra Drabble]

story summary: Your best friend lets you crash at her place over the spring break since you have nowhere else to go. Little did you know that it isn't actually her place. Instead, it belongs to a tall (grumpy) hot guy who finds you in his apartment–her brother.

an: I decided that it would be cute to write a section from the POV of the couple that Kento and reader meet in the museum. I’ve grown very fond of this couple and I hope you’ll enjoy this extra little piece of the story.

warning: none, SFW, fluff and humour

Series Masterlist

The museum was full of its usual hustle and bustle, even more so given the holidays, and it was a pleasure to be a part of the hubbub.

Felicity scanned the crowds with a keen eye, smiling at the energetic children—some more rambunctious than others—accompanied by parents trying to corral them into some semblance of order. She well remembered when her own brood were this age, and the hours spent in this much-loved building keeping them amused during school holidays.

A hand slipped into hers, more familiar than any other and Felicity squeezed the fingers of her beloved husband, glancing at him with a love that had never diminished even after all these years together. She counted her blessings for having met her soulmate so young, and for the family they had raised, as well as the fun and laughter they continued to share.

The pair perused the museum that they knew like the back of their hand, winding through the galleries and stopping to spot new artefacts and displays. This was still one of their favourite pastimes, there was always a discovery to make and even on days when it felt like they had seen everything the museum had to offer, there was always people watching to fall back on.

Much to Howard’s feigned disapproval, Felicity adored watching people. Since their children had grown up and flown the nest to build their own families it had become a ritual of sorts to indulge her social curiosities in public places such as these. There was something special about witnessing the complexities of real human relationships that scratched the itch far more than any TV drama or soap opera ever could. Friendships blooming over shared interests, young minds being educated through fun interactive education, families finding their feet with the addition of children in tow, tired parents happy to see their kids entertained to give them a moment of peace, and best of all, romance blossoming in the most unlikely places and ways.

Today was no different, with new delights to be found in every room, but it wasn’t until they neared the new photography exhibition did Felicity feel the buzz of excitement that often signalled a special find.

“You’re like a bloodhound, Flic,” Howard chuckled with a playful roll of his eyes. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and secured his wife’s arm through his own.

“Pfft, nonsense. I’m simply drawn to where the universe wants me to be.” She didn’t believe the sentiment, but she’d be damned to admit he was right after all these decades together.

The pair admired a large mural of a cheetah made up of hundreds of thousands of tiny black-and-white images until her attention was drawn to the room by their left. There were only two occupants, a young man slowly edging around the room and an equally young woman resting on the leather seat in the middle.

Felicity watched whilst the young woman never took her eyes off the man perusing the photos on the wall. Her gaze was intent but there was a softness that infused her features with what appeared to be fondness. Perhaps even attraction? The young man, on the other hand, seemed oblivious to being the focus of the woman. His posture was stiff, hands clasped behind his back with a slight rock on the balls of his feet when something interested him.

If this wasn’t a budding romance, she’d eat her hat. Felicity tugged gently at the cuff of Howard’s shirt sleeve, nodding her head in the direction of the young couple and was met with a sigh of resignation.

“Leave them be,” he hissed, though there was no heat to his tone. Despite the words, he too began to watch as the young woman moved towards the man and started to speak. They were too far away to hear the conversation, but it was obvious after a moment that it wasn’t going well.

The couple watched on whilst the woman’s expression turned to shock then irritation. Whatever the man was saying, it wasn’t going over well, and when she strode off to the other side of the room, Howard could only feel sympathy for the young man. He looked genuinely perplexed, a hand scratching at the back of his neck as if the skin prickled from the exchange.

Felicity leaned into her husband to speak close to his ear. “Doesn’t that remind you of anyone?” She chuckled, turning twinkling eyes up at him and he felt a swell of love wash through him. It did remind him of someone, himself, and the young woman would be Felicity, his Flic.

“He looks as baffled as I felt back then. You always seemed to be mad at me for something I didn’t even realise was wrong,” Howard admitted with a shake of his head.

“I was, though it hardly matters now. The only thing that truly matters is how he deals with it… will he turn on his heel or will he try to resolve the issue?”

It was obvious that the wheels inside the young man’s head were turning at an astonishing rate, but he wasn’t moving, and Felicity’s shoulders slumped sadly.

“Give him a moment,” Howard chastised, pointing towards the man’s hand. “Don’t you see how he wishes to reach for her?”

He was right. The man’s hand was stretching, reaching as if what he wanted was just out of reach. It dropped as quickly as it happened, but only because he took the tentative steps to move alongside his object of affection.

“I always reached out for you, just as he did for her. Maybe they’ll make it,” he whispered co-conspiratorially.

“He’s confused, darling. I don’t think he quite knows what he wants, only that he doesn’t have it yet. Come on,” she said, moving them towards the young couple.

The woman was near yelling, yet the man simply looked on in confusion. So badly she wished to grab them both by the ear and turn them to face one another. The tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife and it was like stepping into a memory of her past, familiar and amusing. Back then, it had been far from funny but with the advantage of hindsight and a lot more life experience, she could view it for what it was.

“Oh, Howard, look there. Doesn’t that bring back memories?” Felicity called loudly, pleased when the pair jumped in surprise at being interrupted. They jerked apart like naughty children, and it only strengthened her belief that they both wanted something more than their current situation.

“They say that couples shouldn’t bicker, especially in public,” she said with a slight laugh. “But don’t listen to such rubbish. Howard and I used to snipe at each other regularly, and we’ve been married thirty-five years.”

The look of utter shock on their faces, especially the woman, was worth it. Along with the stammered explanations that it wasn’t what it seemed, that they weren’t a couple. So that was where the problem lay. Felicity wondered if it was down to one party in particular, and her gaze strayed to the young man.

A quick assessment painted a detailed picture. Young, handsome, successful, affluent given the timepiece on his wrist but maybe too invested in his work? She couldn’t blame him; society expected all youngsters these days to chase after unrealistic dreams. A career wasn’t the only thing that mattered in life, and from the expression he wore, he wasn’t as happy as he made out. A nudge in the right direction might do the trick. It would be a shame to see a bright young woman slip through his fingers simply because he was scared to try to make it work.

“My dear, when you’ve been around as long as we have, you start to trust what your gut tells you. I won’t say anything else except to offer this one piece of advice. Don’t go to bed angry, and don’t wait to go after what you truly want.”

Felicity offered a kindly smile at the young man, his jaw slack at the offered wisdom. She patted the woman’s arm once more as Howard led her away, but only after he offered his own incline of the head at the man. There was compassion in his eyes, and she knew that it felt like he was staring at his younger self at that moment. She knew that because it was the same for her, a ghost of the past come to remind them both where they started and how far they had come.

“Do you think they’ll make it?” Felicity asked once they were well out of earshot.

Howard sighed, turning his head back for a moment before replying. “If he’s anything like me then he’ll do whatever it takes to make it work.”

“You old softie…”

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[elen-tari2]

My Kastle Scene Wishlist

I’m not sure what Kastle content we might get in Daredevil Born Again, but there is also talk that they might make a new Punisher show. What are some scenes/parallels that you would like to see between Frank and Karen? Here’s a few of my musings

Reversed Hospital Scene! I would like to see Frank momentarily panic over Karen getting hurt and have a turn holding her hand in a hospital bed. I feel like we deserve this scene so bad. (Caveat: Frank CANNOT be the reason Karen got injured, even if it’s just she got shot in the arm or has a concussion; Karen is in dangerous situations regardless of Frank being near her or not and he needs a wake up call for that). Bonus points for the total opposite of telling her to walk way—this time HE GETS IN THE HOSPITAL BED and puts his arms around her and just holds her and Karen gets to feel completely safe for a few minutes. Just go all out with the hurt/comfort trope for these two. Anyway, I have a whole WIP fic devoted to this, so honestly it has become my top wish to see some parallels drawn with another hospital scene.

Karen gets to help in a fight and shoots someone. I feel like since they never got to have the Wesley conversation, a way to show-not-tell would be for Karen to kill a bad guy and then Frank come check on her to be like, ‘hey are you okay?’and she’d be like, ‘yeah, I am.’ She’d be a bit shaken up but grimly holding it together because it’s not her first time killing someone. This would also work in contrast to the scene where Amy shoots the guy in the hall and then Frank infamously takes the gun from her and takes the responsibility of his death away from her. Sorry to make Karen suffer because I know she’ll feel bad about it, but I’d be okay with seeing her character go a little bit darker to save someone’s life. She’s been carrying that gun since DDs2, she deserves to take out a baddie on her own and it’d be a great segue into rehashing some of her past that Frank NEEDS to know about

Frank meets Paxton Page. Will the show make time for this? Probably not. But damn do I want to know what Frank would say if he knew that Karen’s dad cut off his only daughter, when Frank would do anything—anything—to spend one minute with Lisa again. I’d love to see Frank go to Fagan Corners with Karen to put flowers on her mom and brother’s graves. We spent three seasons of Frank being able to open up around Karen and talk about his family with her. Meanwhile she has never once said anything about the losses she’s suffered. Frank needs to know and I don’t want it all jammed into one big backstory dump where she tells him she killed her brother and Wesley in the same conversation. Another option would be for Frank to accidentally visit Karen on the anniversary of her mom/Kevin’s death and she is having a breakdown. If we can’t get into any of Karen’s past, have Frank find out Karen has his burner phone saved in her contacts listed as Home. I’ve seen that idea in several different fics and it just needs to be canon. They are Home to each other.

A scene where Frank holds Karen all night and they don’t have sex, but it’s profound. (Think like Spike holding Buffy). If they are nervous about comics fans being mad about Frank Castle finding love again, give us some physical intimacy and closeness where you know they mean everything to each other but can’t cross the line and make things real. Fan fic writers will know we won and then fill in the rest for those cowards.

If they’re willing to make Kastle real, give us a goddamn kiss. Actually, just let them have sex, because Karen Page has been forced to stay chaste for YEARS and she deserves to get laid. And Jon Bernthal seems to be more than comfortable doing sex scenes soooo please just make it the most beautiful thing ever filmed because they are so in love with each other. It has to be noticeably different in tone from the scene with Beth. And Karen cannot get shot the next day, don’t even start with any of that bull$hit trauma for Frank.

Kastle pillow talk scene. Since it’s Disney Marvel now, I don’t know how much we can hope for with a sex scene. So the pillow talk scene that follows had better be some life-altering confessions of love and cuddles. Do not even think about him sneaking out before she wakes up like he almost did with Beth. Karen deserves something good to happen to her for once, let her have a perfect night and a gentle, soft morning after. She deserves it even if Frank isn’t sure if he does.

Karen Page and Dinah Madani Friendship. I’m rewatching The Punisher s2 and one thing that pissed me off was the scenes of fake bonding between Dinah and Krista Dumont, drinking wine together and discussing men (Frank and Billy, who else). So. To make up for that, we need some genuine female friendships, like Karen and Dinah going to a shooting range together or gym or going out to a nice bar for girls night. Even if Frank has been keeping his distance, these ladies have struck up a friendship and Karen has someone to hang out with besides her lawyer coworkers.

Karen gets to meet Micro/The Lieberman family AND Curtis. David knows how Frank really feels about Karen. Curtis needs to find out Frank DOES still have something good holding him in this world. And Karen should meet Frank’s friends.

Okay those are some of the scenes I want to see for Frank and Karen! If someone could please get this list to the Punisher writers for the future of the show, it’s actually very important that we get some of this or I’m gonna have to come write for the show myself. 🙈

[lightwing-s]

𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐲| 𝐣. 𝐭.

pairing: arkham knight!jason todd x female!reader warnings: angst, violence, domestic abuse  word count: 2,4k summary: gotham pulls you down, jason pulls you harder. a/n: after reading the arkham knight comic i found myself obsessed and wrote this some time ago while in between finals. there will be a part 2, so wait for it soon ♡ ⌜masterlist⌟ ⌜requests⌟

A long time ago, someone I knew, someone I loved, told me something I would never forget: Gotham has powers over its people. Just like gravity, pulling you down, making it hard for you to leave. 

At that point, I didn't understand. But as time went by, it all became clear.

I wanted to leave. And I tried to. So many damned times, almost on a daily basis. And yet, here I am. Still in this goddamn place.

But he also told me, on that same day, that although the gravity field was heavy, I could be stronger. That I was stronger. I could push it away, get out of here. What doesn’t kill you makes you a hell of a lot stronger, Y/n.

It all started on a Thursday night. I was given the day off on Friday, and like every reckless young adult, I had decided to spend my night getting drunk with my so-called friends at a bar, just around the corner of the street he once owned. Even if it’d been years, I could never not remember him everytime I walked by.

But that time, for the first time in forever, it didn’t cross my mind. I had missed it. I had… forgotten. It would be days later when the guilt started eating me up. How could I’ve forgotten him? How did I suddenly stop caring?

We were having fun, dancing around, chatting, and having drinks. Having many drinks. I must have drunk double my weight in alcohol, yet somehow still managed to stand on my two feet. My boyfriend, almost as drunk as me, hung out with his friends not paying me much attention. I guess he didn’t care that it was my birthday, but I guess even I forgot about that. It had been years since I last cared for it, nothing making much sense celebrating once he was gone.

I was looking for a toilet, stumbling my way around the crowded place while my bladder made it harder to walk around. 

And that’s when I felt it. The eyes on me. Like an eagle’s fixed on its prey. A sniper aiming at it’s target. I never understood when books and movies talked about this feeling until I felt it myself. My hair stood on end, the air suddenly thickening around me, my heart beat gaining pace. 

Something I could never, even in the wildest of my dreams, ever have imagined. I thought, maybe, I was making it all up, like some kind of drunken hallucination. Or that finally the terrors of Gotham had gone so up my head that I started seeing things. Things that weren’t real. Things that, at least, weren’t supposed to be.

Yet, there he was. Like a ghost. Clad in a red hoodie, staring straight at me through the dirty, fogged up glass window. The guy I thought I had seen the last of when I was still a just dumb teenager. 

Even though he stood so far away from me, I could see his gloomy semblance. His tired eyes, still bright blue as I had always remembered. But once our eyes met, all that pain and melancholy went away, as his face softened, and his eyes held the same sparkle in them as years ago. It could never be someone else, I would recognize my Robin whenever and wherever I saw him.

“Jason?” I whispered to myself, or at least I thought I had as I would later be informed I had drawn many eyes to me at that moment. But I didn’t care. He was here. It was all that mattered.

I had forgotten everything. Everyone. I stormed out of that crowded bar and ran into the streets. Into his arms. Arms that embraced me, tightly, like I was the last  good thing on this Earth. Like I was his own life, threatening to slip away at any moment. And for the first time in ages, I felt at home.

My boyfriend didn’t like the way I’d left that night. Well, my ex boyfriend. I couldn’t pull up with his shit anymore. Not with him being back.

After our embrace, Jason didn’t want to stay in the street for too long, at the time I didn’t know why, so I just went away with him. God knew where he was taking me, but I trusted him with my life like I always did. All I remember are the city lights flying past us, as we rushed through the streets hand in hand. His ever so sweet tone as we made our first stop under the lights of Old Wayne Tower. How he treated me, how he paid attention. His tender touch, his breath meeting mine, the scarred skin of his face as I caressed his cheek, and his soft lips against mine.

It was just me and him, the world getting blurry around us, reality and dreams blending together for a moment. And from then on, nothing else mattered. It was us against the world.

He took me home, or where I thought his home was then. He dragged me by the hand, swerving through the crowds, pushing through people, but never loosening his hold.

“I’m not gonna lose you again, Y/n.” he looked back to tell me, a mischievous smile playing on his lips, as I tried to fix his hold. His smile blinded me to everything else but him. He was  all I could see. Nothing else.

He led me through an alley to an abandoned diner, and dragging me inside, he took me to a secret door. I must have been too dumbfounded, mind too foggy, still too drunk, as I don’t remember our way up to his room. I just remember standing there, in the almost emptiness of the dark room, filled only with a bed and a desk, a picture of us as teenagers sitting on top of it. I was feeling uneasy, but yet safe.

“I thought you were dead.” I told him, voice cracking and tears flooding my eyes. “I went to your memorial”

“I know… I know it must all be too confusing to you.” he said, holding my face in his large hands, thumbs wiping the tears that had dared to fall down my cheeks. “You will understand. Soon. I just can’t explain it right now.”

Resting his forehead on mine, he took a moment to breathe. Breathe in my scent, breathe in the quiet. His eyes were closed, but when he opened them they bore deep into mine, not giving me a single chance to look away. Not that I would, no. I was already trapped in his gravity field, pushing me down, trapping me deeper, harder  than I would imagine.

“Do you trust me, Yn?” he asked, voice nothing more than a whisper. I could not reply, I didn’t know why. “Do I scare you? With my scars. With how I returned?”

All I did was shake my head no. I wasn’t scared. I would never be scared of Jason Todd. My Robin, my whole world, my safety net ready to catch me whenever I fall. And how I had fallen, so many times. And I had fallen again.

“Good girl.” he said, leaning down once more to give me a kiss on the nose. “Good, good girl. I knew you would never forget about me, because I never forgot about you.”

I was fifteen when I met Jason. Sad and lonely, walking down the streets of Gotham like there was nothing better in the world for me to do. And at that time, I really didn’t.

It was getting darker, the sun lowering down on the horizon. The loud music blasting in my ears, probably some angst pop punk tunes I was into back then, and still secretly listen to till this day, distracting me from my surroundings, making me feel like the only one in the world, when a loud scream took me off my dreamland.

“Didn’t you hear a thing?” asked this tall and dark haired boy. Removing one of my earplugs, and without any words, my confused eyes asked him 'what'. “That guy over there,” he pointed behind his back to a shadow taking the corner onto the next street. “… he was trying to rob you.”

I remember turning back swiftly, causing a sting of pain on my neck, and finding my backpack slightly open. Checking it out, I found nothing was missing and thanked him for the warning.

“You go down here every day, right? I’ve noticed you walking past here for a while. Always around the same time.”

“I live just a few minutes down.” I told him, not noticing the little hint at an obsession in his tone.

“Can I walk you home?” he offered, cheeks slightly tainted red. “It’s a bit dangerous around here at this time.”

“Won’t it be dangerous for you too?” I questioned innocently. Oh, silly me.

“I can handle myself around here.”

From then on, he walked me home every night. He also walked me to school, and also spent every free time we had walking aimlessly around the neighbourhood, pretending our lives were great for those few couple hours we had together. 

He became my shield from the world. My best friend. My white knight. He took my mind away from my family and how shitty they were. With him I was happy for a few moments, until he dropped me two houses from mine, so no one would see us, so my dad wouldn’t get mad, and I had to return to the rash, sad reality that was my daily life.

One morning, Jason came to pick me up, but instead of finding me at our regular spot, he found me at my door, wearing the same clothes as the day before, laying my head on my backpack, trying to shield the cold away with a single denim jacket and failing miserably as my body shivered intensely. On my lip, a deep cut, and a soft purple mark decorated my left eye.

“Y/n?” He shook my body, waking me up tenderly. “What did he do?”

His voice was the complete opposite of his touch, though,  covered in anger. He knew who had done that, he didn’t know why, but knew it wasn’t enough reason. There was never enough reason. He knew the culprit and he’d make him regret it. As much as I tried to, I couldn’t stop him, a pattern I would later find out would repeat itself countless times. He was too strong for me to push him away.

He aggressively knocked on my door, pushed my mom out of the way once she opened it, and searched the house for my father, the one person I hated the most in my life, and whom he hated just as much. He found him in his office, hitting the door closed behind him. Me and my mother didn’t know what to do. We just stood and waited, as we heard screams and the sound of things breaking inside the room. Her bruised hands holding firmly onto mine.

When the door reopened a few moments later, all I could see was Jason’s sore knuckles as he rushed out the house, pulling me by the wrist with. I didn’t know then, or perhaps I did, but that was the moment I fell in love with Jason Todd.

I wouldn’t see my dad till weeks later, when he returned home from the hospital. And that was also the last time I saw him, as he kicked me out for “hanging around with the wrong people”. My mom was devastated, but I didn't care. I was finally free.

A family friend took me in, and Jason continued to walk me home and everywhere else. He would visit me every night. We would often share my bed, as we quietly and secretly, made our love physical, real. As we made us into our reality. Up until he went away.

The first time Jason was taken from me had me broken into little pieces. I thought it would take long till I saw him again, but soon I received a letter from a police officer. 

In it, he told me he was put into a new school as part of this new troubled kids program.  For several months, I read him raving about his new school, the new opportunities, and how he finally had a chance at a brighter future.

I was happy for him, truly. But I couldn’t help the small knot forming in my throat from both jealousy and from just how much I missed him.

Until one day, he knocked on my door, ready to take me to school as we did before, just this time not on foot.

Getting used to Jason as a multi millionaire’s ward wasn’t easy, and I could sense him drifting away with each passing day. He wasn’t the same Jason I knew, even though he hadn’t changed even a bit with me. He just had a new life. A double one I came to know of one night when he climbed up my window.

His visits became regular, and as much as I felt Jason slipping away, Robin was still mine.

And then he was taken from me again. That time, for good. And I was never the same.

All those years, Gotham’s gravity field kept pulling me further and further down, as much as I tried to escape it. Jason’s words echoed in my head, but I knew I couldn’t be strong enough to break away. So I stayed in this city, working low paying jobs, getting around with the wrong kind of people. Trying to make my way through this tumultuous situation that never seemed to get better.

But now, laying naked in Jason’s room, covered only by the thin cotton sheets of his bed, feeling sore and exhausted, feeling cared for and complete, a whole new sense of belonging, of excitement and hope filled me to the brim. I felt unstoppable beside him, like everything would finally settle into place, allowing me to quit this gravity field for good.

Gotham’s gravity is strong, but Jason’s is a lot stronger. And I would learn it the hard way.

.

taglist: @igotanidea

[dollwritesarchive]

Omfgggg I love JJBA and I love the way you write villains - so in depth, so in character 😩👌

For your special event, may I please request:

Kars

Noncon creampie

"you've been so good, where do you want me to give you your reward"

Thank you Doll 🥺🙏

ahhh you make me so happy love 💕 thank you so much for always being on my team!

for doll’s bizarre birthday blurbs !!

cw : noncon, smut ( minors dni ), forced breeding, kars is sex starved oops, primal fucking, hostage!reader ( former scientist ), mentions of murder, Esidisi involvement, degradation

you had no idea where they’d taken you.

once the three of them breached containment, they’d slaughtered most of the staff, found you hiding in a panic room, and grabbed you. everything after that was dark until you’d come to, about an hour ago, and the assault had already started.

the one they called Kars demanded he go first, and the others acquiesced, which confirmed to you that he had to be the leader of the group. the most powerful, maybe. important enough to elicit an air of respect from his peers.

you were still drowsy when he tore at your clothes, but became acutely alert when he pried your legs apart. you’d struggled and tried to scream, but another one of these ancient beings, one you’d heard referred to as Esidisi, clamped a powerful hand over your mouth and dug his elbow into your chest, pinning you down so Kars could take you as he pleased.

which had been none too gently.

these were beastly men, and their leader was no exception— as soon as he forced his way inside of you and felt the frenzied spasming of your walls as they clench around the intruder, he was snorting through flared nostrils. “That’s quite the grip you’ve got, primitive.” he muttered, almost amazed at how tight you were. you tried to scream through his companion’s palm, squirming— accommodating his size was no easy feat, but he hadn’t given you any choice. either you would stretch around the girthy cock, or it would plow right through you. “It’s been two thousand years since I’ve had a nice, warm pussy and yours is so fucking tight,” Kars hums, simpering evilly, and pats your cheek, “my cock hardly fits. I’ll just have to stretch you out.”

Esidisi was snickering in your ear, “Open the thing up for us, Kars.” he barked, wickedly, and Kars fell into a brutal rhythm, as if he were obliging to the request and intended to hollow you out. the thing; you’d never been referred to as a thing before. it turned your stomach, but you also couldn’t help it— you got wetter. “I want my cock to just slide right in to her abused, little cunt.”

you were dizzy. the sharpness of Kars’ hips as they snap against yours, and each time he bottoms out in your guts, you wail helplessly through Esidisi’s fingers.

“Hah,” it’s a half moan, a puff of air and exclamation of just how good you felt from the inside, as Kars grips your hips and pulls them up off the table you were splayed on, angling towards his rabid pounding. you mewled, eyes rolling back, with all of the muscles in your legs drawn taut to the point of aching. “For a simple, little mortal, she makes a decent cocksleeve.”

Esidisi scoffs, amused, and murmurs against your cheek, his lips and tongue smearing over your skin. “Is that so?” he teases, clamping over your mouth harder when you whimper, “That fuckhole of yours already accepting your new purpose? Serving us?” you shook your head in protest, but you were trembling. damn Kars, damn him for making your ravaging feel so good. “You’re shaking, primitive.” Esidisi comments, his free hand running down the length of you to pin your quivering thigh to the table with a harsh smack, “Shaking and moaning— you like it, don’t you?”

“Doesn’t matter if she does or doesn’t,” Kars grunts, swatting Esidisi’s paw away from your face to grab hold of it himself, powerful thumb and forefinger pushing into your cheeks to hollow them, pushing your lips into a childish pout as you stare up at him, wide eyed. “She’ll make a fine breeding whore.” those words hit you like a truck, slamming into your psyche and fracturing it, and you’re whining, trying to plead with him while he’s hilt deep in your belly, but you can hardly make out the word no before he’s shushing you. “I’m right on the edge. You’ve been so good,” he purrs, hips bucking wilder, harder, and you’re squealing to punctuate each one, “where do you want me to give you your reward?”

say anything, you beg yourself. say anything to keep him from cumming inside you. but Kars had fucked you into a stupor, leaving you babbling nonsensical and squirming.

he’d done it on purpose, and he taunts you now with his question.

“Hmm?” he croons, squeezing your face tight, “Can’t decide, pet? I’ll choose for you.” he’s pumping deep, strokes slowing so he can savor each one, and he moans, too, tilting his head and watching you shaking your head fervently. “I’m gonna cum deep inside you, yes.” his grip on your face ensures that he can force you to nod right along with him, smiling tight-lipped with his jaw tight as he teeters on the brink of two thousand years worth of pent up climaxes, “Over and over and over again. Until you’re swollen, until you can’t possibly hold another fucking ounce. Then, Esidisi will do the same. And Wamuu. We will pump you full every, single day. Breed you relentlessly. And you will birth the new generation of Pillar Men for us. That’s not only your fate, pet. It’s your duty as our handpicked breeder.”

[atinylittlepain]

Make It Better - A Joel Miller Story

Joel Miller x f!reader/f!oc

Joel Miller masterlist

Menstruating in the midst of the apocalypse isn’t exactly a breeze. While Joel can be a real guy about her period, he's always up for helping ease her pain, in whatever way he can.

warnings | 18+ SMUT, period sex, enough said

a/n | this is entirely inspired by a post I saw today from @psychedelic-ink in search of some good, sweet period fics about Mr. Miller. Voila, folks.

Men have it so much easier in the apocalypse. This was a thought that had occurred to her monthly for the last twenty years. Everytime her period came, she found herself woefully unprepared. You would think that FEDRA would start mass producing pads or something, but obviously there were no women amongst the higher ups, because no such relief had ever come. She had figured out a number of tricks over the years, slicing up the military-issued socks to make reusable pads, keeping an eye out for old tampax boxes on runs with Joel. He’d always get flustered when she’d wave a lucky, smuggled box in his face, muttering something about not needing to know about that while she just grinned from ear to ear with the knowledge that she’d be set for the next month. She and Tess would give him endless shit for it, trying to outdo each other in making him blush amidst all their womanly talk. 

She missed Tess endlessly, but had quickly drawn Ellie into the challenge of freaking Joel out with talk of the very normal, very human thing that was menstruation. He at least tried to be a gentleman about it, while still being a total guy about it too, asking her if she was feeling ok when he knew hers was coming up, but also sometimes pulling the “you on the rag?” card when she was being particularly short with him. 

When they got to Jackson, and Maria hooked both her and Ellie up with diva cups, it had been a game changer. No more makeshift pads, no more scrounging for expired tampons. Finally, some damn relief from the conundrum that was menstruating during the end of the world. Since they had settled into the community, however, and her and Joel had been sharing a bit more than just each other’s platonic company, Joel’s seeming unease around the topic of her monthlies hadn’t really dissipated. 

He had actually jumped in shock when she showed him how the diva cup worked one night in their shared bathroom, a twisted look of horror on his features as she folded up the plastic contraption before letting it snap back into form. His words came out as an incredulous gasp when he finally spoke.

“You’re telling me that goes inside you, like that?” She had to bite back a laugh at his reaction. 

“Pretty sure I’ve had far more inside me very recently, Joel.” A brutal flush crept across his neck and face at that, leaving him a stammering mess as he quickly stumbled out of the bathroom. It was just too easy.

Another time, Joel had come home from a patrol shift to find her in the kitchen, boiling the diva cup to sanitize it before the next time. He had sweetly come up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and murmuring into her neck, asking what was for dinner. Then he got a good look at what was in the pot. That time, he had let out a yelp, tripping back on his feet and looking at her like she had grown a second head.

“Godammnit, woman. What the hell are you doing?” She had fixed him with a look, huffing at his big man-baby antics.

“Joel, I have to clean it somehow.” His eyes were wide, a terror-stricken look on his face.

“Not in the pans we eat out of though!” He didn’t seem convinced by her cajoling that it was perfectly sanitary and after that night, she never saw that pot again.

One thing they could agree on about all this, however, was period sex. First and foremost, Joel liked to feel needed, like he could give something to her, so it took little convincing to get him between her legs under the guise of helping ease her cramps. He hardly cared about the blood, and she thought he also didn’t mind how sensitive she got during that time of the month either. His only stipulation? That the diva cup came out before he got anywhere near her. 

As usual, her period had started the night before, always the middle of the month. She and Joel had been together for so long at this point that he could clock it pretty well, the next morning looking in the bathroom cabinet in the spot where she normally kept her diva cup before turning to look at her skeptically, his face still groggy with sleep. She had smirked at him around her toothbrush before wiping her mouth and fully looking at him.

“Yes, Joel? Do you have a question?” His brows shot up his forehead before settling back into a furrow, he cleared his throat.

“Is it um, is it–” She quirked a brow at his stumbling. He finally spit it out though.

“Is it– in there?” She couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out at his bashful look.

“You ask me the same thing every month and I give you the same answer every month. Yes, it’s in there.” His brow stayed furrowed as he rubbed the back of his neck, finally letting out a gruff hum before shuffling back into the bedroom. Some things never change. Why a man who had literally killed people with his bare hands couldn’t seem to get over the fact that she had a functioning uterus was beyond her, but damn, was it fun to watch him squirm.

She got home before him that night, having taken an earlier patrol shift. While she was certainly tough, having been out on the road for such a long time, she still got worn down by the requisite cramps that came every month and was currently in a world of hurt. She had once told Ellie that she’d trade all her non-essential organs for a bottle of midol. 

While not quite the same as painkillers, Maria had gifted her a bottle of peppermint oil for her cramps. Some of the women had been harvesting the wild plants and were beginning to distill them down for their medicinal properties, and apparently peppermint worked particularly well for pain. She took off her shirt and bra, not bothering to shuck off her pants before laying across their bed and rubbing some of the oil into her stomach, sighing at the instant relief that the cooling sensation brought. She let her eyes drift shut, enjoying the light tingling of the oil on her skin as well as the fresh scent of the peppermint, but was soon interrupted by the sound of heavy boots approaching the bedroom.

“Are you in– oh.” She cracked one eye open, taking in the sight of Joel standing over the bed, seemingly slack-jawed as he looked down at her. She couldn’t help but smile at him.

“Why does it smell like toothpaste in here?” She huffed at that, sitting up and handing him the bottle of peppermint oil.

“It’s for cramps, from Maria.” He looked at her then, and she was starting to feel warm at the way his gaze was wandering over her half-naked figure.

“You hurting?” She just shrugged, sighing as he stepped closer to let his fingertips skate along her collarbone. He leaned down to drop a kiss to her lips that she chased after to deepen, finally pulling away once they were both good and gasping for breath. Joel pressed his forehead to hers, his voice coming out hoarse.

“Can I help?” She grinned, gripping the hair at the nape of his neck and drawing her lips to his ear in a way that made him shudder.

“You sure can. But you better let me get up first. It’s still in there.” He was off her in a flash, hands up like he was surrendering to the period police. She couldn’t help the wicked laugh that came out as she jogged over to the bathroom to get fully undressed. She could hear him mumble after her retreating figure “fucking menace.”

Diva cup out, and towel in hand, she came back into the bedroom to find him shirtless, toeing off his boots and socks on the end of the bed. He paused in his movements when she stepped before him, completely bare. His face went totally slack as he took in the sight of her. Never gets old. He snapped himself out of it, swallowing thickly before looking up to her gaze.

“Lay yourself out for me, darlin.” His southern drawl was already getting slow and thick in a way that made her thighs clench. She did as he asked, laying down the towel before settling her hips over it and laying back against the pillows. He stood at the end of the bed, not taking his eyes off her as he peeled off his jeans. 

She had dipped one hand down to draw lazy strokes across her clit, already impossibly sensitive as his eyes bore down on her. She couldn’t help the whimper that ran through her throat when he slid his boxers off, his cock already hard as he crawled up onto the bed between her legs. Hovering over her, he rested one of his elbows by her temple as they met in an entirely sloppy kiss. They were both stubborn and it showed in the harsh tangle of tongues and scraping of teeth. He pulled away just for a moment to look down as his fingers dipped into her folds, drawing a long sweep up to her clit. She preened into his touch, hips already bucking up into his hand as he started to swirl his fingers around her clit.

“So worked up for me already, huh, pretty? Just need me to make you feel good, s’that it?” His voice was a low purr in her ear as he dipped his fingers down to her entrance. She whined as he started to thrust into her, his palm grinding against her clit in messy circles. 

“F-fuck, yes. Make me feel good, Joel. Wanna be good for you.” He dragged his lips up the arch of her neck, his murmurs sending vibrations through the tender skin.

“Always so good for me, darlin. Want you to come on my fingers, can you do that?” She was already embarrassingly close, clenching around his fingers with each thrust of his hand. All she could do was nod and bite back the shivering moans that were crawling up her throat. Joel dipped his head down to her chest, taking one of her peaked nipples into his hot mouth and she yelped out a broken curse at the feeling. There was a lewd pop when he pulled off her, resting his chin between the valley of her breasts as he watched her teeter over the edge of pleasure.

“Come for me, darlin. Show me how good it feels. Just let go.” The pleasure snapped in a jagged blur as she clamped down around his fingers, her hips jerking up into his hold. He worked her through it until she was starting to squirm in his hand, finally pulling his fingers away and wiping them off on the towel beneath her. 

She pulled him in by his neck for another kiss, her other hand sweeping down between them to palm at his throbbing hardness. He hissed into her mouth as her thumb swiped over his tip, smearing pre-cum down the length of him before lining him up with her entrance. 

“Want you, Joel. Wanna feel you, please.” He groaned into her neck before pressing his hips forward, both of them letting out broken sighs when his hips settled flush with hers. She drew one leg up, her knee hitching at his waist as he rolled his hips back before thrusting into her in one harsh stroke, quickly finding a pace that had her gasping out his name. 

“S’right, pretty. Keep saying my name– fuck– s’me who’s making you feel so good, huh?” She let out a whimpered “yes” to his question, her nails finding purchase in the tense muscles of his back. The pleasure was already starting to pool sure and heady at the base of her spine, her cunt fluttering around his thick length with each thrust. Joel seemed to notice, bringing his hand down between them to draw heavy sweeps across her clit. Her hips bucked at the sensation, a clipped cry bubbling from her throat. Joel’s eyes were fierce as he watched her crumpled expression of pleasure.

“Think you got one more for me, darlin. Be good for me. Come for me– fuck– need to feel you.” With a cry of his name she fell over the edge of pleasure again, spasming around his dick as he fucked her through the simmering throb. He wasn’t far behind, pulling out only to stroke himself a few times before he was releasing over her stomach. 

He hunched over her, his breath smearing across her collarbones as she lightly dragged her nails up and down his back, both of them trying to calm their racing pulses. Joel finally looked up at her, pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of her mouth that drew a grin from her.

“That feel better, darlin?” 

“Much better, but we really need a shower now.”

They showered together, and it was sweet, all tender touches and soft smiles. But she couldn’t help herself when they got out, wrapping her towel around her body and grabbing the diva cup, waving it in Joel’s face. 

“You wanna see how it’s done, Miller?” He visibly blanched at her words, already shuffling out of the bathroom as he muttered a few words.

“Nope. No, ma’am.”

[mrs-snape5984]

“I was held in chains but now I’m free…”

“Hey, little train! Wait for me! I once was blind but now I see. Have you left a seat for me? Is that such a stretch of the imagination?” (“O Children” by Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds)

I feel obligated to set up a trigger warning on this post, since I’m mentioning thoughts of suicidal ideation in my text. If you’re feeling uncomfortable with this topic, please feel free to ignore the following four paragraphs and skip right to my praise for the incredibly talented artist of this comic strip.

As already mentioned in some of my latest posts, I’ve commissioned some of my favourite artists here on tumblr for a special project of mine: My afterlife project.

I’m suffering from multiple autoimmune disorders, which probably have paved the way for this bitch of a disease, ME/CFS (myalgic encephalomyelitis/chronic fatigue syndrome), two years ago. Sure, my life already wasn’t the easiest before, but since then, it came to a standstill. More and more, I lost my abilities, my social life, my place in the society…and surely even my participation in my own family. My days are mostly spent in bed all day and night, surrounded only by darkness and solitude.

Patients with severe ME/CFS might die earlier than expected, due to multiple organ failure and - yes, I have to admit, that this reason is, indeed, undeniably relatable (and alluring) to me - suicide. With each passing day, that I’m doomed to “live” with these confines of my personal hell… imprisoned within myself without any chance to escape… death appears to be a welcoming friend, who’s only awaiting to pull me into a tight embrace. For me, it’s like it’s written in the following poem (“Joy in Death”) of Emily Dickinson…it will be good news and maybe even a relief…not just for me.

I know, I can’t leave, yet… and that I have to stay as long as endurable - at least for my children’s sake - but… yeah, BUT… but, damn, I’m tired. My personal limits are set… my lines are drawn… my responsibilities are cleared and both of my closest friends are informed about my pathetic little wishes (please, play that goddamn song for me!). I’m prepared. But for now, I have to stay…. to fight a little longer… to be a mom, even though my kids only see me for a few minutes each day… a mere shadow of the mother, they used to know. It’s a fucking shame!

For this particular part of my afterlife project, I’ve commissioned my sweet friend @sleepybradipo, who will always be my first choice to draw my vision of the young Severus in his own uniquely tender art style, which I’m so weak for.

In my imagination, I will be able to choose, how my eternal life will look like. Finally, I’ll be with Severus! We’ll meet at the age of 11 years and eventually spend the rest of our lives side by side...growing old together. Severus and Jukes will finally get the life, they’ve always deserved to have. I’ve started to show sections of this existence by Severus’ side in some of my other posts, which belong to this project. It may sound strange and pathetic (obviously), but this is all, that I'm wishing for. I want to come home to him.

For this artwork, I asked @sleepybradipo to make the process of “renewing” visible…almost like some kind of resurrection! Jules is stripping off her old, exhausted self, only to be 11 years old again…happily running towards the 11 years old Severus, who’s waiting for her.

Ivano, at first, I felt guilty for my request for this commission. I’m constantly afraid of becoming a burden to others with my ridiculously morbid thoughts and ideas. But you, my dear friend, made me feel seen with your kindness and compassion. Your understanding of my fantasy and the way, you’ve realised it in this mesmerising piece of art, are absolutely breathtaking! I don’t know, how I could possibly show enough gratitude to express, what your art is doing to my black little heart. It’s like a bandage…a soothing balm… a comforting embrace. Thank you for everything, Ivano.

🖤Severus & Julia🖤

🖤Sevy & Jules🖤

PS: I have to apologise for my repetive use of terms in my writing this time. The lack of coherence might be caused by my current “crashing” condition and a weird cocktail of different medications. I’ll try better next time, but it was important for me, to show this heart-wrenching composition of art as soon as possible. Your work needs to be seen, Ivano!

[the-magiarcheologist]

The Mysterious Past (or Future?) of Niamh Fitzgerald

Many have noticed the necklace that Niamh Fitzgerald wears which looks very similar to a time-turner except that the central piece is not a hourglass but a stone shaped like a water drop (feel free to remember this detail because I have other posts planned in the future that will bring this up again 👀). So does that mean that Niamh could time-travel? I’d say it’s very likely!

And if you’re not convinced by the necklace, did you know there is a goddess named Niamh in Irish mythology? She was described as having long blond hair and riding a white horse. She appeared one day to the great warrior Oisín and asked him to come with her to Tír na nÓg, the Land Of Eternal Youth where nobody ever ages. Oisín agreed to go with her but after having spent 3 joyful years together in Tír na nÓg, Oisín grew homesick and asked to visit Ireland again. Niamh reluctantly agreed but on the condition that he take her white horse and never touch Irish soil. When he got back to Ireland, Oisín realized that, in the mortal world, 300 years had passed since he left with Niamh as time passes by more slowly in Tír na nÓg. After accidentally touching the ground, Oisín sundenly turned into an old man, aging the 300 years that he had missed, and died soon after.

Does Oisín’s fate remind you of anyone? Of course, it’s what happened to Prof. Hecat when she traveled in time during her time in the department of mysteries. It’s also what happened to Eloise Mintumble who, in 1899, became trapped for 5 days in the year 1402. When she came back to the present, she suddenly aged 500 years and died soon after.

Of couse, in the tale, Niamh does not actually time-travel, instead she took Oisín to the celtic Otherworld. But time manipulation is still a big part of the tale and the fate of the hero and I believe them naming the character Niamh is not a coincidence. Especially when they also give this character a time-turner necklace!

Another thing that I have noticed recently is during Niamh’s trial. At the very beginning of the trial, Niamh tells the MC:

Pay attention. Things are not always what they seem.

And then, at the end of the trial, after we take the resurrection stone, she repeats:

Nothing is what it seems.

And that’s a bit strange to me because this trial, compared to the first two keeper trials by Rackham and Rockwood, is actually very straightforward. We have a very clear mission to avoid Death and a single path to follow. So what exactly in Niamh’s trial is ‘not as it seems’? Of course, this could be related to the lesson we learn during this trial ("light does not exist without shadow nor shadow without light") but what if this was about something else?

Because, if we pay attention, there is definitely something out of place during Niamh’s trial. During the last scene, when we are taken to the graveyard where mourners are mourning Niamh’s death, we see a lot of ‘modern’ elements that I don’t think belong in the late middle ages when Niamh is supposed to have lived (and died). First of all, the mourners. It’s a bit hard to see, but I don’t think they are dressed like people from the middles ages. In fact, they are dressed like other wizards and witches we encounter in 1890. (Also notice the hairstyles.)

And, even more damning, in my opinion, are the carriages we see in the graveyard.

These look very similar to the carriages we see in 1890. I’m no historian but I’ve tried looking into the type of carriages that existed in the middle ages and none of them looked like that. Miniature drawing of horse-drawn carriages from the middle ages looked more like wagons.

So what does that mean? Could this simply be an oversight by the devs? They just re-used assets they had, not caring that they were not historically accurate? I don’t think so because, in an earlier part of the trial, when we cross a village trying to escape Death, we see a lot of wooden carts that look a lot more like what we would expect wooden carriages in the middle ages to look like.

In that earlier part of the trial, we do not encounter any of the ‘modern’ elements we see in the graveyard scene. Even the few villagers we encounter in the beginning of the trial are not dressed at all like the mourners we later see (although their clothes are hard to see because they are very dark).

So if we assume that the anachronistic elements are intentional and not an oversight this could indicate that Niamh Fitzgerald died much later in time than she should have.

Was Niamh Fitzgerald a time-traveller? Perhaps she also worked for the department of mysteries in the nineteenth century, and, like Dinah Hecat and Eloise Mintumble, she travelled in time and got stuck there for many, many years. She lived an entire life in the past, becoming the Headmistress of Hogwarts and part of the mysterious Keepers. And, perhaps, one day, she found a way back to her present, only to age hundreds of years in the matter of an instant and die soon after, being grieved by her loved ones devastated by her sudden death.

Or perhaps I'm getting a bit carried away here! 😅 But I'm still convinced Niamh Fitzgerald has something to do with time-travel! How would you feel if they introduced some time-travel storyline in HL2?

[highhhfiveee]

Imagine having matching Christmas pj’s with Mike and Abby?🥹

IT WOULD BE SO CUTE😭

-🌊

!!!!! [i'm a little sleepy so bear with me lmao] pairing: mike schmidt x blackfem!reader summary: mint!reader spends christmas with the schmidts. wc: 880 tags: fem!reader, major fluff, christmas pajamas. just pure holiday sweetness [,: sorry if there are errors, it's late and i'm damn near conking at the keys

i have a pair of reindeer fleece pants that i’ve had for the last two years, and i can imagine abby gifting mint!reader a pair of them while you clear your dinner plates from the coffee table. 

"i gave mike his pair already. i was supposed to wait, but i was too excited," you're forced to place the dishes on the counter as she shoves the pants into your hands with a wide, toothy smile. the reindeer's heads are adorned with santa hats, festive lights strung around their antlers and ears. 

they're pretty cute, screened over the entirety of both legs, and you're rubbing your hand over the soft, fluffy material with a warm-hearted hum. you return abby's smile, reaching down to sway her side to side in a tight hug. "thank you, abs. you have great taste." 

"tell me something i don't know," she replies, and you lean on the counter in a fit of laughter, abby joining you soon after

mike had accepted his pair with a bit of reluctance, giving abby a slow and fabricated, "thankssssss...." as he stared down at the ugly cartoon reindeer. they were everywhere, crudely-drawn with unintelligible blobs for "lights". 

he'd stuffed them to the back of one of his dresser drawers.

the holiday is on a saturday this year, and he's so excited to be able to spend the entire day with you and abby. it's already panning out to be a good time as he enters to the tall christmas tree that's been set up in the corner, illuminated with lightbulbs of all sizes and colors. the ornaments are mostly silly; cardboard gift boxes, paper snowflakes and candy canes, and other kitschy things you and abby had made over the last twelve days.

there's a decent stack of presents under the tree, all wrapped in ways indicative of who handled them. mike's got one more for you in his grip, and he's about to set it under the tree when abby appears from the hallway, staring him down. "what's in your hand?"

"a present. merry christmas, abs." 

"is it for me?" 

"no, it's for y/n. just something last minute." abby takes in the small jewelery store bag dangling from his finger, squinting her eyes. 

"is it a ring?" 

"what---abby, no. we've been on one date." 

"i heard it went well." 

"yeah, well, one date isn't grounds for marriage, good or not. jeez, why don't you go talk to y/n and stop pestering me?" 

"she's changing into her christmas pajamas, something you should be doing as well. won't be fully christmas without them." 

mike stands to his full height, shaking his head with an irritated, "nuh uh. not happening, sorry." 

"oh come on, i spent my allowance on those pants!" 

"terrible purchase," mike deadpans, beginning to move towards the kitchen when you come into the early morning light of the living room. it stops him in his tracks. 

your hair rests atop your head, curly tendrils toppling over your eyes, and you look down at yourself as you notice mike staring at you. you survey for drool stains since you slept in your black camisole, and twist and turn as you scrutinize the pants on your bottom half. "a little small, but they'll do. thanks again, abby. you're really sweet," you're reaching out to pull abby into your side when you finally see mike, giving him such a bright, energized smile even though it's 7:53 in the morning. you're just so beautiful, and it nearly causes mike to lose all brain function.

"hi, mike! did you have a good shift?" 

"yeah," he sighs out, tongue so dry it'd work better as tinder. he composes himself, swallowing as he jokes, "watching over animatronics is really the life." 

you giggle, turning to hide your blushed cheeks and goofy, totally-crushing-very-hard grin. "well, you're employee of the century in my eyes, your picture should be everywhere! oh, speaking of pictures, abby wanted to take one with all of us in our festive pjs. mind changing real quick?"

there's no protest. mike's damn near the roadrunner with how fast he dashes in and out of his room, standing in front of you two in a white t-shirt and his reindeer pants in what feels like fifteen seconds. 

abby sticks her tongue out at him, huffing and crossing her arms over her chest with an indignant head raise, but mike pays her no mind, musing, "so...a picture you said," to you as he stares into your eyes and melts like a bar of chocolate left out on a hot day. 

the picture comes out cute; abby sits between you and mike, and your cheek rests against the top of her head while he keeps the two of you close to him by stretching one of his arms across your shoulderblades and pulling you in tighter. you're all smiling, perfectly poised for the shot, and mike can't help but think about how this is all he wants forever as you shriek at the custom necklace that he's gotten for you; deep yellow gold with a heart locket that had a tiny picture of him and abby inside, all of your initials carved into the metal on the other half. 

"mike!" 

"merry christmas, y/n."

omg i was not expecting to write this but how fucking cute. i really do love the holiday season so this is really nice. i can't believe american thanksgiving is in THREE DAYS. that's fucking NUTS!

faire's seedlings ✿

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