#allow me to stop you right there . he is literally just every french guy who’s way too full of himself

[grendelsmilf]

timmy chlamydia’s appeal is that he is literally any french guy you would see walking down one of the nicer streets in paris, but american. however, seeing as the french and the american constitute the two demographics i most cannot stand, his appeal has never once resonated with me.

[kelstey]

get him back!

mattheo riddle x reader

warnings : none

❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ゜°・ . 。・゜❃

i met a guy last summer and i left him in the spring

"hey," you shielded your eyes with your hand from the sun, squinting at the figure in front of you.

"hey," you replied. you allowed your eyes to adjust, realising that a literal god of a man was standing in front of you.

"i'm mattheo," he brung his hand out in front of him for a hand shake.

"i'm y/n."

he argued with me about everything he had an ego and a tempter and a wandering eye

"you're such a dick! you were fully undressing her with your eyes!" you shouted at him, heated, absolutely enraged he was gaslighting you.

"staring at who?! you're making things up," mattheo ran his hand through his stupidly soft, brown hair.

"oh making things up?" you laughed at the stupidity that was coming out of his mouth, "i have eyes! i could see you checking her out as if i weren't right next to you!"

"yeah, whatever," he scoffed and walked away

he said he's six foot two

"and i'm like dude nice try," you giggled to pansy, gossiping about all the juicy drama to her.

"you love tall guys, he seems perfect," you blushed at her words, knowing she was right.

but he was so much fun, and he had such weird friends

"why do you have a ferret?" you questioned mattheo.

"it's just draco, i'm taking him back to snape to see if he can fix him," he chuckled and handed the white animal over to you.

"and how exactly did he get in this predicament?" you giggled as the little thing tried to bite

and he would take us out to parties and the night would ever end

another song, another club, another bar, another dance

you were pressed up against mattheo, grinding on him as the music deafened you. his hands were glued to your hips, gluing you to him.

"another drink?" he shouted in your ear.

"fuck yeah!" you shouted back, heading over to the bar to order another 10 shots.

and when he said something wrong he'd just fly me to france

"c'mon darlin, drivers here and he's taking us to my family's villa," you stepped off of the plane in paris, feeling like some sort of royalty.

"i can hardly speak french," you giggled, heading over to the personal driver who was parked, awaiting your arrival.

"i'll speak it for you, sweetheart," he winked, opening the car door for you.

so i miss him some nights when i'm feeling depressed

you laid on your side, mascara smudged all under your eyes as you continued to stare off into space; your mind on one person, and one person only.

you rolled onto your back, staring at the still ceiling as you reminisced the times he held you in his arms, the way his soft lips felt against your lips - and everywhere else on your body.

til i remember every time he made a pass on my friend

your eyebrows furrowed, frustrating growing through your body when you remember the one time mattheo hit on astoria right in front of you.

"hey," you watched as his hand was placed on the arch of her back.

"hey mattheo," she smiled and you frowned.

"you look gorgeous tonight, mind if i get you a drink?" be was now dangerously close to her and you felt as if steam was coming out of your ears.

do i love him? do i hate him? i guess it's up and down

if i had to choose, i would say it right now i wanna get him back i wanna make him really jealous wanna make him feel bad oh, i wanna get him back

cause then again i really miss him and it makes me real sad

oh, i want sweet revenge and i want him again i want to get him back, back, back

so irerite bim all these letters and i throw

them in the trash

"dear mattheo,

i hate you, but i love you. and i hate you again. you're a piece of shit. i never want you to speak to me again but i don't want you to ever stop trying to reach out. you confuse me so much. i know we're bad for each other but you're the only one i want. cause i miss the the way you kiss, and the way you make me laugh."

yeah, i pour my little heart out but as i'm hittin' send

i picture all the faces on my disappointed friends

"you did what?!" pansy screeched in the middle of the hall.

"girl shut up! pineapple might hear! plus, i only wrote it in my notes. merlin, do you really think i'm stupid enough to hit send?" you scolded her.

"i wouldn't put it past you," she began walking again and you rolled your eyes, knowing she was right.

because everyone knew all of the shit that he'd do

"he's not the type of guy you should be with, y/n,"

theo spoke to you, his thumb rubbing circles over your hands as you told him the things he did.

"he said i was the only girl but that just wasn't the truth," you felt your eyes water, theo giving you a pitiful look.

and when i told him how he hurt me, he'd tell me i was trippin'

"you keep giving me mixed signals, mattheo," you were now beyond exhausted of the arguing.

"you're trippin'," he couldn't even look you in the eyes as he knew what you were saying was factual.

you titled your head, "you're a fucking cunt." you poked your index finger into his chest, pushing past him as you headed to class.

but i am my fathers daughter, so maybe i could fix him?

your fingers were tangled in his hair, calming him down as he had yet another argument with his father.

mattheo was laid on your stomach, his body between your legs, hands wrapped around your back.

"i just hate him so much," warm, salty tears fell from his face to your stomach.

"i know baby, i know. i'll do my best to help you."

i wanna get him back

i wanna make him really jealous, wanna make him feel bad

oh, i wanna get him back

'cause then again, i really miss him, and it makes me real sad

oh, i want sweet revenge, and i want him again

i want to get him back

i want to get him back, back, back

i wanna key his car

"c'mon, hurry," you waved pansy over, the two of you disguised with all black, baggy outfits, and balaclavas as you hopped over the riddle's manor.

"which one is it?" pansy pulled out her endless assortment of keys.

"that one," you pointed over at the black mercedes.

"posh twat," pansy muttered and tossed you some keys.

"i wanna get him back," you smirked. you carefully went over to the parked car, trying to make as little noise as possible.

quickly you began to run the keys across any surface area of the sleek black car, ruining it as much as possible.

"this is for making me listen to y/n rant about you 24 fucking 7," pansy mumbled to herself.

i wanna make him lunch

"hey love," you gave mattheo a sweet kiss on the cheek as you handed over the bowl of pasta, his absolute favourite of yours.

"you truly have my heart," you fake smiled at his

comment.

i wanna break his beart

you straddled theo's lap, his large hands going under your skirt as he massaged away at your ass. his lips were hungry for yours, the kiss was rough but it was everything you wanted and needed.

you had thought because of the dark lighting, and crowds of people, that mattheo wouldn't see. but oh he did.

his heart shattered, dropping at the sight of you with his best friend. he downed the rest of his drink (aka straight whiskey) before heading over to the two of you, ready to fuck some shit up.

you moved your hips against theo's, grinding on his boner, his lips still eager for more of you. he knew it was bad - betraying his friend. but you wanted to get mattheo back, and theo was only there for some very 'moral', moral support.

you were ripped away from theo, landing on the foor with a thud, you looked up to see mattheo going ham at theo, punching him over and over as the fight broke out.

you stared in horror - enzo pulling you away from the horrific sight.

then be the one to stitch it up

"hey matty," you walked into mattheo's room. he was sat at his window ledge, head in his book which he was reading intently.

"what do you want?" he didn't even glance up at you.

"i'm sorry about last night," you made your way to him.

finally, mattheo looked up at you. his heart nearly bursted out of his chest seeing you in his hoodie - the one you always wore when you stayed over.

"baby," his voice was now softer, his eyes staring at you in adoration as the memories of the nights you spent together came back to him.

"i'm really sorry," you pouted your lips, knowing it was all so fake.

wanna kiss his face

you held mattheo close, his face rested on your chest. you leaned down, peppering kisses onto his face 'lovingly'.

you smiled down at him, "i love you."

"i love you too," you said, he put his face back in your chest. you looked up, the smile wiped immediately off of your face.

with an uppercut

wanna meet his mum

just to tell her her son sucks

"hi mrs riddle," you smiled at the older lady as she opened the door.

"hi, and who might you be?" you tried your hardest not to let the disappointment take over as you realised mattheo clearly had never talked about you at home.

"i'm y/n, and i'd love to tell you all about mattheo. i suppose he's clearly not mentioned me then?"

oh i wanna key his car

"what the fuck?!" mattheo yelled, his arms flailed up as he stared at his car, freshly bought and freshly keyed.

"what are you - oh," his father stepped out of the house, face dropping at the scene in front of them.

wanna make him lunch

mattheo was crouched over the toilet seat, uncontrollably puking over and over as draco rubbed his back.

"mate what the fuck is wrong with you?" draco was both disgusted yet trying not to laugh.

"y/n made me lunch. think she's poison-" he threw up, yet again into the toilet.

"suppose she's got to get you back somehow." mattheo shot draco a glare. "apologies," draco held up his hands in defence.

i wanna break his heart

"hey tom," you wandered into mattheo's older brothers room.

"what?" he turned around from his desk.

"oh nothing," you held your hands behind your back, innocently walking over to tom. "just wanted to see you, is all."

you sat on his lap, fixing his loose tie. tom's hand supported you on his lap, a slight firm grasp on your thigh too. you finished sorting his tie, your eyes flickering up to his eyes.

"have i ever told you how much hotter than mattheo you are?" tom smirked at your comment.

"my very own brother, hm?" his face was close to yours, millimetres away from each other.

you nodded, looking from his eyes down to his lips. "i do prefer older guys," you closed the space between you and tom.

as if on cue, mattheo walked in.

stitch it right back up

"mattheo, i don't know what got into him! he just pulled me onto his lap and you just walked in," you explained to mattheo.

"do you promise me?" he looked up at you, sadness in his eyes. you felt bad, but he felt nothing when you were depressed over him for months.

"promise, sweetie, you know i'd never," oh yes you absolutely would.

wanna kiss his face, with an uppercut

"oops!" you covered your mouth with your hand as you accidentally 'nudged' mattheo's arm as he was mid falling asleep in class, his face hitting off of the table.

"want me to kiss it better?" you asked him.

"please."

i wanna meet his mum, and tell her her son sucks

"oh he did not," his mum was appalled, hand covering her mouth as you told her about the year long situationship with her son.

"oh he did, and then, he had the audacity to be like "you're trippin',", ugh the cheek!" you took another sip of your tea.

"oh and don't get me started on the time he was flirting with my friend in front of me! but then he got upset cause i kissed one of his friends as payback."

i'll get him, i'll get him, i'll get him, i'll get him back

get him back

i'm gonna get him so good, he's not even gonna know what hit him

he's gonna love me and hate me at the same time

he didn't know wether to hate you or love you. but what he did know, was that he was undoubtedly obsessed with you.

"please, y/n, i'll do anything," he was on his knees in front of you, begging for your forgiveness.

you really wondered how he even had feelings towards you - you keyed his car, made him lunch that was poisoned, broke his heart by kissing his best friend and brother, told his mum all the shit he did and how he sucked.

but here he was, willing to give up anything and everything for you.

you had finally got him back.

❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ゜°・ . 。・゜❃

[duskymrel]

TWST characters as different people i've seen at school

yes most of this is slander

Riddle: The kid who treated being line leader as though he had just been elected President of the United States of America

Ace: Would stand up in class and shout "FOR KOBE" and throw a piece of paper at the trash bin. Would completely miss.

Cater: Filming a fucking TikTok dance in the middle of the school hallway during class transitions. Fucking MOVE, i got places to be. (I walk directly though their tiktok and ruin it)

Trey: That kid who's birthday you know by heart and eagerly await every year because he brings in the BEST desserts. The good kush.

Deuce: Says the stupidest shit in class unironically. Other guys are confused as to how this makes him more endearing but girls fawn all over him.

Azul: Passes by his crush (Jamil) in the hallway and thinks blud will stop and fall madly in love with him at first sight and will declare his love to Azul and it'll be something straight out of a teen girl movie. It ends up playing out exactly like this video: https://www.tiktok.com/@irljigsaw/video/7232906141385215274?is_from_webapp=1&sender_device=pc

Floyd: Kid who only likes Chemistry because he's crazy excited about mixing chemicals and setting things on fire. Anything he makes in a lab he loudly comments on how badly he want's to take a bit fat slurp/bite out of it. (it's me i do this)

Jade: One of the mushroom core girlies. Wears mushroom jewelry, has mushrooms patterns on his clothes, draws them for art class, draws them on his notebooks and binders. It's almost obnoxious but he's forgiven by everyone because he's hot.

Leona: Literally doesn't give a shit about school. Shows up in pajama bottom's and takes the fattest nap right in the middle of Geometry.

Jack: The only nice guy on the football team, girls LUST for him ❤

Ruggie: The only class this kid liked was free and reduced lunch (real)

Kalim: Guy who refuses to eat school food. He's probably got the right idea, that nacho cheese sauce probably causes cancer. Brings the most banger lunches and makes people jealous. (Lunchables, the GOOD fruit gummies, chips, a cookie, and a Caprisun.)

Jamil: In classes where you're not allowed to eat, he's the kid who sits in the back and makes a 9 course Gordan Ramsay approved gourmet meal.

Idia: This was so easy this guy was the anime weebo who wore anime merch every day and sometimes even wore anime wigs to school. He won't admit it but he would Naruto run through the halls in middle school.

Ortho: The cute little innocent babey schnookums who the girls all doted on. Hurt him and you'll get jumped by every girl in the student body. Fuck around and find out type shit.

Vil: Bozo who would literally paint their nails in class and would be doing their eyeliner while the teacher was trying to explain mRNA.

Epel: YEEHAW REDNECK KID. you know who i mean. the one who wears a hat with the American flag on it every day and whenever the teacher tells them to take it off they go on a rant about how unpatriotic the teacher is.

Rook: The only kid who actually liked French class. Tries to rizz people up in the hallway and asks for their Snap but always fails. Maidenless behavior.

Malleus: The tall quiet emo kid who slumps in his chair on his phone, with the bottom resting on his belly. He looks like he's listening to edgy emo music but it's actually tooth rotting cheesy pop music

Lilia: The manic pixie dream girl who will spew the most wise sage advice when asked.

Sebek: Literally one of those girls who's attached to her boyfriend like a parasite. You cannot separate her. Overly loyal and won't stfu. Is like a mix between a golden retriever and a chihuahua.

Silver: I swear on my life he's one of the kids who's been adopted by his entire friendgroup. People love him he's just a likeable person. He makes a new friend and BOOM they've adopted him. You're my son now, boy.

--------

@heartscrypt i thought specifically of you while writing Azuls

anyways all of these are people i've known i've got irl sources for this. no i won't apologize for all the slander because it's funny.

[doberbutts]

have you ever seen the morgan freeman talking to a guy video about racism? (I don't remember who the guy was all I know is morgan freeman is an icon for it)

Morgan Freeman has been on a lot of videos about racism, some of which I agree with and some of which I disagree with. I think the main thing to keep in mind with his views is that he's coming at this problem from a much different mindset than we are, due to his age and how he grew up and what the world looked like during his prime.

So when he says "black history month keeps racism alive" and "the only way to stop racism is to stop talking about race"- he's speaking from the experience of having race be the single most important thing about him for the large marjority of his life. For better or for worse. People who hate him see that he's black first. People who love him see that he's black first. He just wants to be seen as his character and his talents and his accomplishments and his failures. He's tired of being judged by the color of his skin.

I can respect that, even if I think his idea that discarding race conversation completely is wrong. I, too, don't want to consider race as the single most important factor about anyone. I'm friends with all kinds of people. I don't care what their race is. Their actions, their personalities, who they are as people, that's more important to me than any consideration of their race. But that doesn't mean we don't sometimes have racial conversations. It doesn't mean I "don't see color". Your ethnic background holds little bearing on whether or not I like you. But it's still an important part of who you are.

I've even said similar myself, in talking to my father who is 15 years younger than Freeman. This idea of black this and black that I understand is because white people are too racist to accept us as normal regular Americans. Black history is American history. Black music is American music. Black actors are American actors. Black authors are American authors. And so on. And it's the same for black people living outside of the US- their history is not somehow seperate from whatever nation they're living it. It's intertwined. They have just as much right to call themselves British, or French, or Chinese, or whatever. We are not outsiders of the entire world besides the African continent. We exist in every nation, in varying numbers, and have done for centuries. Just like everyone else.

So when Morgan Freeman, or Raven Simone, or Whoopi Goldberg, or Snoop Dogg, or any of these other people out there say stuff like this. If you're not considering their perspective, because they are black people who have the spotlight shine directly on their blackness before literally anything else, it's easy to hear "having black history month is racist" and interpret that as "they think it's racist to uplift black people #alllivesmatter" when really it's "it's bowing to racists that we are not allowed to call ourselves Americans without a qualifier, when we are so intertwined with American history that this country literally would not exist without us" which I think is getting missed and they're not explaining it well because, well, other black people with similar life experience understand what they mean without needing more

[phantomrose96]

Joyrider

(Welcome to another warm-up writing piece. cw for mild body horror)

...

The mall food court doubled rather nicely as a battle-dome.

It fit the bill: a flat and circular arena, crowned two-stories up by a hemisphere of glass windows which lapsed iridescent in the maelstrom of ecto-fire.

Spectator chairs sat empty, hastily shoved back and knocked over by the Amity Park mall patrons who knew to leg it at the first sound of explosions and the first sign of the atmosphere tipping dark. Admittedly, the patron evacuation took longer than Danny anticipated, and he backed himself into a corner playing defense for the 50 some-odd people who, worn-out on the every-day mundanity of ghost alarms, took their time gathering belongings, or shutting off burners, or working in a few last bites of a burger.

So with the crowd gone and the stage their own, Danny found himself pressed back against a vat of french fry oil, hands braced against the handle of a broom he held out horizontally, which the ghost gripped with equal measure and shoved her full weight against.

“Oh, why not take a little dip, Ghost Boy? I hear the water’s nice.”

“No thanks,” Danny answered, shoving harder. “I never was much of a hot tub guy. You on the other hand—”

Danny set a foot forward and pivoted, body fueling the torque as he spun the broom, and tore the ghost with him, a pirouette to swap their spots and jam the ghost back-pressed to the fryer.

“—you seem like you’d like it hot.”

The ghost barked a laugh, jaw stretching lower and loose than Danny was comfortable with.

“Ha! You sure? Not very heroic of you to deep fry this girl I’m possessing.”

Danny faltered. His grip slipped. His blood chilled to ice as the information clicked in place – as he recognized the sensation of a ghost talking through someone. This wasn’t the ghost’s own form. This was some girl. How had he not felt—

A blast took him by the ribs. Danny doubled over, immediately kicked back. A foot found contact with his face, driving him down, until the girl’s wet and slippery fingers pinned him down by the wrists.

Danny strained. He could pivot his wrist a fraction of an inch left or right, but he could not break the hold.

“Get off me!”

And a voice answered from behind him.

“I can help with that.”

Danny craned his neck. Upside down, vantage point from the floor, he registered Sam’s combat boots slam into focus. She bent to one knee, a bazooka locked on the other. It charged, whined, and erupted with an explosion of green light.

The ghost shrieked. It took only an instant of resistance before the ghost tore cleanly from the girl possessed.

“Now if you don’t mind me—” Tucker, by the voice. Danny heard the whine of a Fenton Thermos heating up. “—I’d officially like to change my order from fries to soup.”

The beam burst forth, and the writhing, shrieking, yelping form of the exorcised ghost clawed and scratched in Danny’s direction before the thermos consumed her in full.

“Really? ‘Fries to soup’? Even Danny can do better than that.”

“Hey,” Danny answered.

“I was thinking on my feet, Sam. I didn’t hear any witty quips from you.”

The conversation fell away from Danny’s focus as the full human weight of the possessed girl dropped down on him. Gently, Danny gripped her by the shoulder, lifting her as he pushed himself into a sitting position.

“Your parents’ anti-possession gear is getting good. I don’t think I’ve seen an exorcism work that quickly.” Sam’s voice, now at his side. Danny glanced over, finding her kneeling beside him. “Is she hurt?”

Danny gave the girl a once-over. She was pale, cold, lips seeping blue. A mottled, blackish bruise spread across her temple, partially hidden beneath loose red bangs.

“I don’t… totally know. I didn’t land any hits on her, thankfully. But who knows what that ghost might have done. We should call an ambulance.”

“On it,” Tucker, from behind.

“Do you… do you think the bazooka might have hurt her?” Sam asked.

Danny shook his head. “Mom and Dad have blasted each other with that thing a hundred times. Dad got himself possessed by the box ghost for a trial run. It doesn’t hurt people. …Maybe she just needs a minute.”

“Lay her down, maybe?”

“Good idea.”

Danny eased forward, careful in his movements. Something about his grip slipped, sliding loose and rolling forward, and she fell unceremoniously from his arms, shoulder knocking ground as she lay there partially turned on her side.

“Danny!”

“Sorry! I didn’t—something slipped!”

“Well don’t leave her like—” Sam gripped a hand to the girl’s shoulder, weight behind her wrist to roll the girl fully onto her back. Sam’s hand froze, and then yanked away.

“What?” Danny asked.

“That didn’t feel right.” Sam only stared down, her hand hovering, twitching in increments. “Way too cold… and loose.”

“Loose?”

“Danny, look at her hands. What’s wrong with her hands?”

Danny looked. The skin stretched and wrapped the bones of her fingers as if rotated partway around. Her fingernails sat off-center, twisted around and bunched up like a glove. Sam’s hand came back into view, and she clamped it to the girl’s wrist.

“It’s like jelly. Danny it’s like jelly. Why is she this cold? Danny, I don’t think she’s—”

Something new caught Danny’s eye, a purple discoloration peeking out from the bottom ruffles of the girl’s shirt. His hands seemed to move on their own as he reached down, and pinched the bottom of her shirt, and pulled it back.

Black bruising consumed her torso, caving deep and bloating, pruning around the trails of heavy stitching that ran along the tracks of surgical cuts carving through her abdomen.

Danny yanked his hand away as if burned.

“Danny, she’s not breathing.”

The rest of Danny’s thoughts drowned in the swelling wail of the approaching ambulance siren.

…

Outside the Fenton Portal, green lighting doused the only part of Danny’s form not hidden in shadow, and danced with the fire of his glowing green eyes. Danny uncapped the thermos in his hand, and he trailed his thumb along the eject switch.

A new consuming green light belted forth, lasting only a moment until it vanished with a twin-braided ghost in its wake. The ghost blinked, smoothing over her hair and pulling the ends of her braids over her shoulders.

“Oh, it’s the Ghost Boy again. I thought you’d just throw me back in the Ghost Zone. Are you interested in a round 2?”

“No, not interested,” Danny answered, tone colder than ice.

“Yeesh, you’re quite sour. No more puns?”

“Why were you possessing that girl?”

“Hmm?”

“Why were you possessing her?”

The ghost blinked, green portal light mixing murkily with her purple eyes. “No particular reason. It was just a joyride.”

“A joyr—she was dead.”

Another blink. “Yeah I know. She was sitting in the morgue. She was in like a car crash or something and they already took all her organs. They didn’t need her. And I was gonna give her back, but you had to go and make it a whole thing.” The girl swooped forward, eyes wide and roving over Danny. “You seem mad. Wanna call a truce?” She stuck a hand forward. “I’m Melissa, by the way.”

Danny jolted, eyes flashing brighter. “No, you’re not. That girl was Melissa.”

“Oh for real?” Melissa let out a chuckle. “Crazy coincidence. I like don’t even know that many Melissas. Anyway truce?”

“No.” Danny ran his fingers through his hair. “You were possessing the body of a dead girl and you made me fight her! Don’t you see how that’s—that’s so—how fucked up—that you’d even—”

“Well I mean, I didn’t make you fight me. You made that happen. I was minding my business.”

“Doing what?”

“Shopping. Why else would I take a body for a joyride? I stole some cute clothes to wear. Stole some food to eat. Oh! That outfit I was wearing when we were fighting? Yeah I picked that out. She was in like a hospital gown when I found her. Super cute improvement right?”

An ectoblast sounded and connected with the wall behind Melissa, missing her a foot to the right. Danny’s hand glowed, and his eyes focused with a razor sharpness.

“Stop talking like that, okay? It’s pissing me off. I need you to tell me you know this was fucked up.”

Melissa put a finger to her chin. “I mean I guess stealing is kinda wrong. They were all like, big box corporate stores don’t worry.”

“The. Dead. Body.”

And Melissa fell silent a moment, violet eyes probing deep into Danny’s before widening. “Oh. Oh you’re like for-real mad about that. Like actually. I thought you were like, making an ironic joke.”

“Why the hell would I be joking about this??”

Melissa cocked her head to the side. “Well because you’re doing it too, duh. Like, duh.”

A huff of air cut against Danny’s teeth, an involuntary noise, incredulous, a guffaw he didn’t consciously make. The jelly sensation of decomposing flesh was back under his fingers. “I am not—would never—I’ve never even seen a dead body before this thing with you and I’d never in a million years even think for even a fucking second that I’d want to possess a dead body. What’s wrong with you?!”

Melissa bobbed a little in the air, ends of her braids trailing over the straps of her ephemeral sundress. “See this is why I really can’t tell if you’re joking or not. What are you talking about? You’re doing it right now.” She clasped her hands behind her back. “The black-haired boy whose corpse you’re possessing. Why are you allowed to do it?”

Danny froze. He laughed, heavy, with an uncomfortable force. “Myself, you mean? I’m not possessing myself. I am myself. I’m a half-ghost.”

Melissa met his laugh. “Oh what? No way like, that’s your own corpse? How’d you even get back to it in time? That’s crazy lucky like you must have died right near a portal or something.”

An involuntary shiver traced down Danny’s spine.

“…I’m not dead.” His eyes shifted around, and Danny dropped to the floor. He set a hand against the wall, throwing on the lights to the Fenton basement. Rings swept around his form, green iridescent eyes sweeping blue, white hair seeping black. “Look. Literally look at me. I’m not dead.”

And Melissa swooped closer. She set a finger to her bottom lip and hovered a foot in front of Danny, drinking him in. She swept to the side, like a swimmer in the water, sweeping around him in a full arc. She edged closer and pinched her fingers against the exposed skin on Danny’s arm. He flinched.

“Oh wow there’s like, not even any decay or anything. Your human brain even feels like it’s working it’s all like, electro-magnety. How long were you dead before you got back to your body?”

“I didn’t die.”

“Then what did happen?”

“I got shocked by the Fenton Portal, okay? It was just a lab accident and it gave me powers.”

“Oh. Oh.” Melissa’s eyes shot wide. “Oh you didn’t die near a portal… You died in a portal. You didn’t even have to get back to find your body at all. You must have appeared like practically on top of your own body. That’s crazy lucky. That’s so lucky. Your body was like, probably only dead a microsecond before you hopped back in. No wonder it’s so well-preserved.”

Danny swatted her away. “You’re not listening to me.”

“You’re not listening to me.” Melissa floated backwards. “What do you think is more likely? A bajillion ecto-volts somehow gave you superpowers that exactly mirror everything a regular dead ghost can do? …Or you died, and became a regular old ghost, and did what any regular old ghost can do, which is possess a freshly-dead dead body?”

“…I’m half-ghost,” Danny answered, human heart pounding in his chest. “I know what I am.”

Melissa bobbed back, feet pointed backwards until the soles of her feet skimmed the matrix of the portal. “I see you’ve made up your mind. That’s alright. But it was still pretty mean of you to accuse me like a big hypocrite like that.”

“I’ll destroy you if you ever try that again.”

“Oh I’ll try asking permission next time okay? Promise.” Melissa’s feet sank into the surface of the portal. “But, before I go, I’ve just got one more question to leave you with.”

“Go.”

“Why should a lethal accident do anything other than kill you?”

“Go.”

“Maybe you’ll have an answer for me next time I see you. Byeee!”

A spark of white erupted from the portal, consuming, absorbing, and fizzling out as Melissa’s form vanished into the ether beyond.

…

“Hey! Yo! Danny, come check this out!”

Danny rounded the stairs, unsocked feet creaking the floorboards with each step. Danny yawned, and blinked, and rubbed at his bruised eyes with the sleeve of his pajama top.

“Still asleep? That’s fine! You don’t have to do anything. Just come over here and look at what your old pop’s been up to.”

Danny entered the living room, where Jack sat hunched on the couch surrounded by an arsenal of power tools, rags, oil, soldering equipment, and scrap metal. From beside him he hefted a bazooka into view.

“This is the Fentonzooka 3.2.17. Amped up and equipped with all the latest in ghost-busting and human-saving technology.”

Danny blinked. “3.2.17?”

“Yep. This baby’s got 17 bug patches, tweaks, and internal improvements since the 3.2.0. The 3.2.0 was the advent of the snack compartment in the side. Look!” Jack spun a dial, revealing a chamber half-filled with pistachios.

Danny only stared.

Jack hefted the bazooka onto his shoulder. “Even better, Mads and I finally got rid of the last little sting humans feel when it’s fired. It’s now completely 100% harmless to humans. It feels like the breeze from a standing fan when it hits ya.” Jack turned, and he aimed the barrel at Danny. “Wanna try it out?”

Danny stood, and Danny stared, and Danny said nothing.

What might happen when it hit him?

Would it hit like the gentle breeze of a fan? Wash over him like air conditioning? Tingle cool and pleasant against his human fingers, human face, human skin?

Would it do something else?

Why should a lethal accident do anything other than kill you?

Jack eased the bazooka a bit off center, pulling his eyes away from the sight. He stared directly at Danny. “Danny?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you want to try it out?”

Danny stood.

Danny stared.

Danny wondered if he’d have an answer for Melissa the next time he saw her.

[bakugosbratx]

hi!! i luv ur works and I was hoping you can do a bakugo × female reader smut?? where the reader is the opposite of him (soft and a frigging virgin) while he's the hot and rough daddy who wants to dominate over you🥵🥵

NSFW 18+ Virgin — Dom! Bakugo x Virgin! Fem Reader

Warning: 18+ Content. Smut, sexual intercourse, virgin female reader, daddy kink, degrading, breeding kink, etc.

Check out my other works here

A/N: Hello! Thank you so much for your request and being a fan of my work. I’m sorry it took me forever to get to yours, but I appreciate your patience. I hope this is close to what you were thinking. Enjoy!

Words: 1,264

P.S. This is Katsuki stretching before he fucks your pussy up. ‘k bye ✨

“Katsuki, please be gentle.” You beg one last time as he pushes you down on the bed. You have been teasing him for long enough. Though he is respectful enough to never pressure you into sex and would truly stop if you wanted him too, but you knew what you were doing. Those naughty pictures, those skirts that were not long enough, the sway of your hips as you walked, and those v-necks that showed a bit more cleavage than preferred. All of it was to let him know you were ready.

Katsuki waited all week to do anything about it. He wanted to be sure this is what you wanted. So, when you told him you were good to go, he practically dragged you to the bedroom. You are nervous considering you are a virgin and Katsuki is not the gentle type of guy, but you love each other. Underneath his tough guy exterior, he has a big heart. Especially for you.

Katsuki’s hands rested on your knees, opening your legs to reveal your cloth core. He was quick to rip off your skirt and panties. You wanted to cover up, but Katsuki’s animalistic mind would not let you. This man is hungry for you and he’ll be dammed if you stop him from eating what is his.

Licking his lips, he bends down to swipe his tongue between your folds. A small whimper escapes you as Katsuki dives in and French kisses your pussy.

“Mm, Katsuki—“

You wince as you feel a hard slap on your outter thigh.

“I’m your Daddy tonight, little girl. Remember those naughty text you sent me? Callin’ me Daddy and shit?”

You began feeling flustered as you recall the dirty text you sent. All those things you said, calling him “Daddy,” talking about the ways you wanted to get fucked, even sending a few pictures. This was bound to happen. Katsuki was quick to race home after work and pin you against the wall, marking your body with his teeth

His tongue makes circular motions on your clit as his hands rest on your hips to keep you in place. You arch your back as chills go up your spine. Not a nerve is missed as his tongue plays with every nerve available in your cunt. You tasted like Heaven. He was almost angry you made him wait this long, but he is happy you both waited. Only makes this experience even better.

Katsuki’s tongue goes from your clit to your hole. He switches between the two so you are brought closer to your orgasm. Your little moans of pleasure just encourage him to keep going as he sucks on your bundle of nerves. He can feel you get closer as he eats you out.

“Daddy, I’m close.” You whine.

“Cum for me.”

“B-But I’m scared..” You admit, covering your face with your hands. You have came before from playing with yourself, of course, but not on someone’s literal face. You also haven’t had another person eat your cum. It was intimidating.

“You’re going to cum whether you like it or not so I suggest you get over it.” Katsuki warns, his fingers sneaking into your hole, curling in—and—out as he speaks. You did not have control anymore as you released onto his index and middle finger.

“Good girl.” He praised, sucking your juices off of his fingers before swiping your pussy with his tongue. Standing up, he undoes his belt and throws it next to you on the bed. He unbottons his black skinny jeans, pulling them down slightly along with his underwear to reveal his long hard cock. You swallowed the lump that formed in your throat as your eyes gaze upon his large member.

Katsuki smirked as he stroked his cock with his right hand. “You scared or somethin’?” He teased as you closed your legs. In all honesty, you are terrified. Katsuki isn’t small, by any means. The girth and length was going to stretch your inexperience hole to the max. You have every right to be second guessing your decisions right now.

“Don’t try to act shy now. We are doing everything you said in those texts, slut.” Katsuki stated as he spreads your legs apart. Your raining pussy was just waiting for Katsuki’s erected cock to enter inside.

Pulling you closer to the end of the bed, he aligns you with his cock. His tip is at the entrance of your weeping hole. “Ready?” He asked, rhetorically.

“Yes, Daddy.” You permit.

Katsuki did not even let your pussy get used to all of him as every single inch entered inside you. You arched your back as the mixture of pain and pleasure overwhelmed you. Your gripped the bedsheets as Katsuki began thrusting. The beautiful sounds of Katsuki’s invading your tight cunt with his erection while you let out small whimpers filled the room.

“Fuck, you’re so tight, baby.” Katsuki grunts as your tight walls enclose on his cock.

“Daddy!” You sob. It feels so good yet hurts so much. He is not going soft either as he continues a fast paced rhythm. Your cunt eats up every inch of him and even if you tried to reject it, Katsuki would be dammed if he allowed that to happen.

Your eyes began to roll back as you babbled incoherent words. You almost felt numb as Katsuki continued the process he has been doing all along.

“Aw, look at my dumb little baby. You look so fucking stupid right now. You like it when Daddy fucks you stupid, huh?” Katsuki coos in a condescending tone, watching you become weak as you make lewd faces at him. You were about to cum again and Katsuki could feel it around his cock.

“You wanna cum again, don’t you? Such a helpless little girl. I’m not even close to cumming yet and you’re already having to cum again.” Katsuki smirks as he starts going at a slow pace. He is antagonizing you now. He wants you to beg.

“Daddy, please let me cum. Please!” You whine, using the strength you have left in you.

“Ha! Have to do better than that.” Katsuki laughed. He loves seeing you in this state. So small, so helpless. You are begging for him to release you. You did not have much strength to hold on much longer. You wanted to be a good girl for him. Scratch that, you needed to be.

Building up what’s left of your dignity as tears brimmed your pleading eyes, you whimpered, “please, Daddy, please! I’m such a helpless little slut for you. I can’t hold on much longer. Please, please, please let me cum!”

Katsuki chuckled. “How pathetic. Go ‘head and cum, you needy slut.”

The permission was all you needed to release onto Katsuki’s cock. You gasped as Katsuki continued fucking you through the orgasm. He is after his own high now. Pre cum began leaking from his length and Katsuki began grumbling incoherent curse words under his breath. His knees buckled as his cum began to fill you up. Katsuki made you milk every drop of him as he panted, heavily. Every tense muscle became relaxed within you as Katsuki pulls out.

You sit up, about to get yourself cleaned up when Katsuki pushes you back down. He climbs ontop of you, kissing on your neck before nibbling on your ear. Growling lowly, he grumbles, “You think we’re done? Not a chance. You aren’t going to be able to walk tomorrow once I’m through with you, little girl.”

©bakugosbratx

All Rights Reserved

[realisticjojoxreader]

For writing requests: Hugging the Crusaders!!!!!!!! 😳🥺👉🏻👈🏻

this was very fun to write lol these guys suck

stardust crusaders x reader (?), part 3 obviously, 1.4k

JOSEPH:

You ask for a hug and he obliges instantly, starved for affection since his grandson will barely speak to him. His arms are warm around you, stronger than they should be at his age, and he holds you tight, like you’re the only thing in the world that matters. It feels like you’re the center of his universe.

Taking a deep breath, you wrinkle your nose. What is that smell...? Is that his aftershave? It’s like dust, almost, mixed with wet paper. Where on earth did he get something like that? Why does he use it? It stinks.

The hug is so comfortable, though, and you feel so loved, that you can ignore the weird old man smell. His shirt is scratchy against your skin.

After a long moment, he releases you, hands brushing gently through your hair. Then, something snags, tugging on your hair. Hard. Like, really hard. It actually really fucking hurts. You recoil instinctively, which just pulls your hair even harder, making your scalp burn.

“Oh no!!” screams Joseph, so loudly that you flinch, which just tugs your hair yet again, and you yelp. “Oh shit!! My prosthetic hand is caught in your hair!!”

“Why aren’t you wearing your glove?!”

He hisses apologetically. “I, uh, took it off when I went to the loo.” Oh my god, ew. What the fuck, dude? For a long moment, he stands there trying to undo what he's done, wiggling his fingers in your hair completely ineffectually. “I don’t think we can untangle this ourselves," he says eventually, taking the L. "Let’s go get my grandson.” He turns toward where the others are all standing and takes a slow but confident step forward.

Then Joseph, graceful as ever, trips over absolutely nothing and falls like a sack of bricks. You thoughtlessly brace yourself with your Stand to make sure he doesn’t drag you down, too, forgetting that his hand is very much still stuck in your hair. He falls and takes a hand-sized chunk of your hair with him, leaving you partially bald and sobbing from the pain.

You collapse to the ground, screaming, and the others rush over, finally noticing that something’s happening over here.

“Oops,” says Joseph, holding up a fistful of your hair.

“Nice haircut, idiot,” says Jotaro, looking at you with a tiny smile on his face, like today is Christmas and your partial baldness is his gift from Santa. God, fuck the entire Joestar bloodline. You hope DIO kills them all. They'd absolutely have it coming, though you'd miss Holly.

The only reason you don't abandon them is a promise from Joseph that he'll cover all your expenses until you're back home.

ABDUL:

You ask for a hug and he squints, for second, as if unsure you meant it. When you smile encouragingly, he smiles back and steps forward to wrap you up in his arms.

The hug is warm, like sheets that have just been pulled from the dryer, complete with the clean smell of fresh linen. You’re not sure how he smells so good, seeing as you’ve been traveling in the desert for days, now, and everyone else stinks to high heaven, but you won’t look a gift horse in the mouth.

His jewelry rattles as bit as he starts to sway, still holding you tight. You’ve never felt so safe before, especially not since the group made it to Egypt, closing in on DIO in Cairo. As long as you stay in Abdul’s arms, nothing bad can happen.

He pulls back a bit to look you in the eyes. His expression is so hopelessly kind that you have to look away, overwhelmed with it. “Look at me,” he says, voice soft as anything, and you oblige. He says half of your name before his face contorts, as if he’s in pain.

“Abdul? Are you—” you get cut off when Abdul sneezes, right on your face, right into your open mouth. “FUCK!” God, it was so wet, you're going to fucking lose it. You can’t help but punch him in the shoulder.

Because he’s a nice person, Abdul is horrified by what he’s just done to you and also graciously ignores you hitting him. “I’m so sorry!”

It was an accident, so you really can’t get too mad, but you’re still upset. That was so fucking gross.

Something smells weird, now, too. Like smoke.

“Hey, noroma,” says Jotaro, calling you the little nickname he has for you—you don't know what it means, but you're the only one he calls that, which you kind of love. It means you're special to him. Him and the others are finally back from the gas station convenience store, arms full of snacks and water. Jotaro looks bored as ever when he tells you, “Your jacket’s on fire.”

Ah. That explains the smoke smell.

Ultimately, your jacket is ruined and you have minor burns on your wrists. You ask the Crusaders to drop you off at the Cairo airport, because you can’t keep fucking doing this, not after what Joseph did to your hair yesterday.

But then Polnareff makes some revolting-ass puppy dog eyes at you, imploring you to stay, and for some reason, you cave. Anything to get him to stop making that awful face.

POLNAREFF:

You ask for a hug and he grins at you, big and stupid and pleased as punch. That's the expression he makes any time anyone is ever nice to him.

His hug is a little awkward, like he's not used to having someone so close to him. It'd make you feel bad for him if he didn't stink to high heaven. You kind of expected that—he's French, after all—so you're able to ignore it, for the most part. It's not like the others smell like a bag of roses, either, except Abdul, because he rules. (Destroyed jacket and burns that still smart something awful notwithstanding.) It's been a long journey.

After not very long at all, Polnareff starts to get antsy, almost vibrating in your arms. What is he, five years old? Can't he relax long enough for a single hug?

Then he starts giggling, which puts you on edge instantly. Nothing good can come out of him when he's snickering like that.

Before you can pull away, though, you find out why he's giggling.

He's still cackling when he presses his wet, sweat-soaked palms against the bare skin of your arms. You violently recoil and, with more anger than you felt even when Joseph partially balded you, you punch Polnareff right in his stupid fucking nose.

Blood erupts from his face like a geyser. Before you can even laugh at him, something hits you with the force of a moving train. It feels… naked?

Oh. It's Star Platinum. Great. Great! That's just what you needed today, to get your ass beat by Jotaro and his mostly-naked guy of a stand.

Maybe DIO's taking applications.

You almost walk off yet again, but Joseph reminds you of his promise and promises that you're allowed to sit in the front of every car from now on. He also stops Jotaro from kicking the shit out of you, so you stick around, though you suspect you'll regret it.

KAKYOIN:

You ask for a hug and he looks at you like you have two heads. “Me?” he asks incredulously, looking around as if searching for the person you were really talking to. The others are all in the restaurant's restroom right now.

“Yes, you. Who else?” There’s literally no one else around.

“I don’t know,” he says. “I don’t really do hugs. Could you go ask Jotaro or something?”

JOTARO:

Instead of asking for a hug—you know he'll just say no—you ambush him with one, waiting for him to turn the corner and walk right into your open arms. This wouldn't normally work, but you made sure to spring your trap when he was in a heated (though still playful) argument with Polnareff about whale sharks.

Just as you planned, he notices you far too late to stop you, and you grin wide as you wrap your arms around him. He feels solid and warm. You never want to let go.

Jotaro doesn't give you much of a choice.

"Ew," he says before summoning Star Platinum, who grabs you by the scruff of the neck like a naughty kitten. "This is why I call you noroma. Fucking dipshit." And with that, Star Platinum flings you bodily into the dirty ass canal running along the side of the road.

DIO is, in fact, taking applications. You get rejected.

[heauxplesslydevoted]

Water (Ethan x MC)

Warning: NSFW, 18+

A/N: I finally finished the Miami shower sex fic. It’s roughly ~5K words of nonsense, 60% is filth, and the urge to re-write it is strong, but here it is.

Enjoy!

~v~

Being in Miami with Naomi unnerves Ethan in ways he can’t articulate. They aren’t in the confines of the hospital, bound by the strict boss and subordinate boundaries he’s attempted to set for them. And while they’re in the city for a medical conference, he can’t help but feel like he’s just Ethan and she’s just Naomi.

Her presence is overwhelming and intoxicating. From the way she took charge and ordered them drinks on the plane, to the way her luggage spills over their shared hotel suite despite being checked in for less than 3 hours, to the way it feels effortless just walking along the beach with her, Ethan can’t escape her and the role she’s slipped into feels too familiar and comfortable, which actually gives off the opposite effect. It terrifies him.

“We’re in Miami, for goodness’s sake, our hotel is literally on the water, and we are going to the beach,” is what Naomi told him after she slipped out of her plane clothes and put on something more appropriate for the warm Miami weather. She didn’t give him any time to object–and boy did he want to–before catching his wrist and dragging him out of their hotel room.

And that’s how he ended up taking a walk on the beach, the hot sand sticking to his toes, Naomi by his side. For reasons he’s not ready to face, he can’t say no to her and it’s infuriating. But on the flip side, the way her cheeks turn up and eyes sparkle at the enjoyment of the little things like this make his insides twist, and he’s a prisoner to her happiness.

“Come on, we’re hundreds of miles away from the hospital, the beautiful sun is beaming down on us, and there’s nothing but warm sand and ocean breeze around us. You have to admit that this is nice,” Naomi urges, poking Ethan in between the ribs.

They came to Miami on a mission, and that was to get help for Naveen and also fulfill his duties to the hospital. Frolicking on the beach was nowhere on the agenda.

“We’re here for work. And besides, I could be spending this time catching up on sleep or enjoying our air conditioned suite. That’s my definition of nice.”

“I swear, you probably came out of the womb a grumpy old man,” Naomi teases. “At least try to unwind.”

“The fact that you managed to drag me out here is testimony enough, don’t you think?”

“Nope,” Naomi says, leaving no room for debate. This is one of those times where Ethan isn’t all that enamored by her stubbornness.She sits down in the sand, throwing down her sandals. She extends a hand, and after a few seconds Ethan sighs and begrudgingly accepts it, allowing her to pull him down as well.

“Now close your eyes,” Naomi orders, watching Ethan closely to see if he listens. Once he realizes that she isn’t going to stop glaring at him, he closes them. “Thank you.”

“I’m only doing this so you’ll eventually leave me alone.”

“Always the fuddy duddy. Can you sit in complete and utter silence for 10 seconds? Please?”

Something about the way she says that word only adds to the list of things she does that make him uneasy. Only because he hates the way he responds to her plea, something stirring in the pit of his stomach.

It’s hard for him to handle the stillness of the moment. He’s gotten too used to always moving, always having something to do, but he sucks it up and tries.

“When was the last time you took a vacation?” Naomi asks.

“Is it bad to say I don’t know?”

“Yes. I’d kill to have your vacation days.”

“Well what about you?”

“I went to Aspen with my family for Christmas last year,” Naomi replies. “We used to go on at least one vacation a year when I was a kid. I don’t know how much of that I’ll be doing with my residency, but it’s nice to get away, even if it’s for a few days, you know?”

“I do. I think it’s been a solid three years since I had a real vacation. I went to Italy.”

“Rome?”

“Florence.”

“Did you have fun?”

“Of course.” Ethan feels her thumb trace a circle on the inside of his palm, and that’s when he notices that they never stopped holding hands when she pulled him down, and his pulse skitters. Part of him believes Naomi doesn’t notice she’s doing it, so he stays silent.

“Do you speak Italian?”

“I’m fluent in all of the Romance languages,” Ethan admits.

Naomi scoffs and playfully nudges him with her shoulder. “No one likes a show-off, polyglot.”

“What about you?”

“I speak very minimal French. My grandma taught me some basics when I was a kid and spent my summers with her, and I tried to fine tune my skills in high school, but I’m not fluent.”

This is the first time he’s heard her talk about her family, even a little bit, and he clings to the information as if it’s precious.

This time when the conversation tapers, Ethan actually doesn’t mind the silence, and he revels in the presence of the pretty intern beside him, her hand still warm in his.

“I should’ve booked you a spa treatment,” is how Naomi eventually breaks the silence. Ethan’s eyes snap up and he stares at her. “What?”

“I don’t think I’m a spa treatment kind of guy.”

“The sauna could be nice. Or a mud bath.”

“You’re such a comedian, Rookie.”

“I’m serious!” Naomi leans forward and presses her thumb between his eyebrows, gently massaging the crease. “I think a day at the spa would be good for you. Relatively speaking, you’re too young to be getting wrinkles.”

“What does that mean, relatively speaking?”

“You’re young in comparison to the average life span, but compared to me you’re…”

Ethan raises an eyebrow in challenge. “Are you trying to call me old?”

“It’s fine,” Naomi assures him. “Lucky for you, I like older guys.”

As soon as the words leave her mouth, Naomi realizes her grave mistake. She’s said too much, revealed her slip, and the double meaning of the sentence hangs in the air between them. Ethan’s eyes widen. His eyes fall on their still interlocked fingers before flitting back to her face, and that’s when Naomi notices that they’ve been holding hands. This entire time.

Ethan leans forward, until their faces are mere centimeters apart. Feeling bold, he takes one of her loose ringlets, curling it around his finger.

“Ethan, I–”

He stands so abruptly, Naomi almost falls over but she catches herself with her hands.

Ethan clears his throat, trying to center himself. What the hell was he thinking, nearly kissing his intern? How did he get so caught up that he almost crossed that line?”

Naomi stands up, wiping off the back of her shorts. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong, Dr. Valentine.”

The name change feels like a physical strike. He hasn’t called her by her formal title the entire time they’ve been out here, but now she’s back to Dr. Valentine?

“Are you sure because I could’ve sworn that you were about to–”

“You know what? I think I’ve had enough of this beach excursion for the day, and I’m going to rest before we have to go to the party later on?”

A party? Where the fuck did that come from? “Ethan, slow down. A party? What party are you talking about?”

“Every year there’s a party hosted in conjunction with the party. It’s a black tie event, so please dress accordingly. See you later.”

His long legs carry him away before she can even reply, and he’s trudging back to the hotel, leaving Naomi more confused than she was ten minutes ago.

They were sharing a moment and Ethan was going to kiss her…right? This isn’t some fever dream, she didn’t just make that up, it is a fact. And just as fast as they were connecting, he put up a wall and shut her out.

She sits down again, ruminating over the situation and trying to wrap her head around it all.

After a while, annoyance forms in the pit of her stomach. Ethan doesn’t get to just play with her like a ping pong. And if she misread the situation, he should be big enough to tell her that to her face, not run off. And the more she thinks about it, the more she stews, and the annoyance turns into anger simmering under her skin. She stands, brimming with righteous indignation. He doesn’t get to walk away from her, and she’s going to tell him as such.

The trek back to the hotel only makes her angrier, because she only has time and opportunity to think, especially with the long elevator ride up to their suite. Once she makes it to the room and the door shuts behind her, she hears some shuffling around coming from the en-suite as well as running water.

“Ethan, I don’t know who the hell you think you are, but you need to explain whatever that was on the beach,” Naomi starts. She doesn’t get an immediate response from him. “The walls aren’t that freaking thick, I know you can hear me.” She inches closer to the door and notices that it’s been left slightly ajar. “And you left the door open, genius. Now I really know you can hear me.”

Maybe the walls really are that thick because she thinks she hears him talking, but it’s muffled. She almost lets it go until she hears a gruff, “Naomi!” come from the other side of the door.

So he can hear her. Good! Because she has a lot to say. She doesn’t give it a second thought, she charges towards the bathroom and forcefully pushes open the door.

What on earth was she thinking, barging into the bathroom like a bat out of hell?

The correct answer to that is she wasn’t thinking, fueled only by her need to argue with the infuriating man who left her on the beach like an idiot.

And now she’s standing in front of him and he’s stark naked.

The professional clothes and the white coat he wears at the hospital do an amazing job of keeping him contained, but here in this bathroom, Naomi realizes for the first time just how massive this man is. Tall isn’t enough of a description. His wide shoulders lead down to powerful arms, all corded muscle and tension. His chest, those defined pecs and a six-pack. Of course he’d be built like this underneath those clothes. Like a Greek fucking god. Of course.

That still isn’t what steals her breath straight from her body. It’s his hand, strong and powerful, wrapped around the base of his cock.

She should really say something. Apologize profusely. Beg to keep her spot in the competition, beg to keep her job at Edenbrook period. But she can’t. Any form of coherent or rational thought has been banished from her brain, and this soaking wet image of her boss is the only thing running through her mind.

Dr. Ethan Ramsey masturbates.

And if he’s still thinking about the moment they shared less than an hour ago, coupled with the fact that she heard him call out her name, it’s safe to assume that Dr. Ethan Ramsey masturbates to thoughts of her.

The realization makes her flame, and Naomi swears her body temperature has spiked to near feverish. And the fact that Ethan isn’t doing anything to right the situation—putting his hands in a more appropriate place, saying something, yelling at her to leave—only makes things more insane. He keeps his eyes fixed on her, his gaze so intense, she swears he can see her brain.

The angel on Naomi’s shoulder is screaming at her to stop gawking at him like some fish out of water, but she can’t. Now that she’s seen him, really seen him, she doesn’t know how she’ll ever go back to him being anything other than this, six feet, five inches, 200 pounds of pure unadultered sex.

The urge to touch him is so strong, she doesn’t think she’ll be able to do anything else until her hands are on him.

Swallowing whatever nerves are trying to creep up, Naomi takes a tentative step forward, and reaches for the glass door. The glass pane slides away so slowly, she almost wonders if it’s her subconscious giving her enough time to bolt before she makes even more of an ass of herself, but she ignores whatever annoying voice in her head is telling her to go.

“I’m not an idiot, Ethan. I’m not naive, and I’m not blind.” Naomi takes another step forward, the steam of the shower and a light spray of warm water hitting her face. Gingerly, her hand finds purchase on his chest, and they settle on his left pec.

His heart is beating so wildly, Naomi actually gasps at the erratic thumping beneath her fingertips. “Naomi–”

“I was so confused earlier,” Naomi confesses. “I thought you and I had been vibing these past few weeks, I thought you and I actually had something. And then we had our near first kiss earlier, but you pushed me away and ran off faster than a lightning strike, and I was hurt, and convinced that I completely misread the situation. So imagine my surprise when I walk in on this. You are horribly affected by me.”

“Naomi.” The way he says her name is so much rougher than it was previously, and it sends a shiver down her spine. Yup. So affected.

“It’s okay though, you don’t even have to say anything,” she continues. Taking Ethan’s free hand, she places it on her own chest so Ethan can feel her own erratic heartbeat. “Because trust me, I feel the exact same way.”

He doesn’t say anything else, opting to pull her in by the front of her t-shirt instead, what very little restraint he had over himself gone in this instant. The full blast of water comes as a shock, but Naomi can’t even react to it before Ethan slants his mouth over hers, pulling her into a bruising kiss.

The first thing she notices is just how rough his stubble is as it scrapes her mouth. The second thing is she probably would have fallen over due to how forcefully he pulled her into the shower, and she’s thankful his grip on her is as tight as it is.

Fireworks. A million fireworks going off at the same time. That’s what kissing Ethan feels like.

He sets the pace, but she kisses him back with just as much fervor. He kisses her like they have all the time in the world and none at all, passionate and intense, like he wants to devour her.

Her lungs protest against this endeavor, practically begging her to inhale something other than Ethan. But she doesn’t want to stop kissing him, even if it’s just for a second.

Thankfully Ethan makes the first move to separate them, breaking the kiss. His tongue licks along her neck and her head falls back in pleasure. So caught up in their kiss, it’s easy for Naomi to forget that she’s fully clothed, Ethan tugging at the fabric of her shirt quickly reminding her.

The water has the clothes clinging to her like a second skin, and Naomi giggles at the frustrated huffs Ethan lets out in his quest to undress her. The giggle turns into a full on squeal as she hears the telltale sound of a rip as her t-shirt ends up on the shower floor, followed by her shorts, and Naomi has to kick off her sandals to assist.

Once her clothes are in a sopping wet heap on the floor, Ethan regains control of the situation. Naomi’s back is pressed against the cold marble wall and Ethan’s mouth is on hers again, bruising and hard. It’s almost like he wants to punish her through his kisses.

“I have tried my absolute hardest to keep you at arms length,” is the first full sentence he’s said since Naomi entered the bathroom. “I compartmentalize my feelings for you, I am constantly reminding myself of our power dynamic. And you just keep inching your way closer at every single turn despite my best efforts.”

Naomi hums in reply. “Maybe you shouldn’t have been trying to keep me away in the first place.”

He’s kept her away because he knew. Ethan knew Naomi would find a way to get under his skin, leaving him to feel open and raw like he just got scrubbed with sandpaper. Having her like this is a fantasy come true, and he knows without a shadow of a doubt that once this line is crossed, he’ll never want to go back. He can be a selfish bastard sometimes.

“If we do this then–”

“I’m a big girl, Ethan,” Naomi assures him. One of her hands reaches in the tiny space between them, and she grips his erection. Ethan shudders and leans forward, crowding her space even more as she strokes him at a leisurely pace. “And we can talk about all of the messy stuff later, but right now, talking is the last thing on my mind.”

“Alright, Rookie. Enough talking.”

Her underwear is off before another word can be uttered.

Naomi isn’t sure what she was expecting, but he slides two fingers inside of her before she can think, and the sharp intrusion leaves her gasping. Ethan doesn’t treat her with kid gloves, the quite opposite actually. Whatever sound she’s going to make, he quickly swallows with a kiss.

Naomi is expressive. It’s one of the first things Ethan noticed about her. She’s going to be seen and heard at all times, and that extends to the bedroom. And since he has effectively cut her off with a kiss, Naomi sinks her nails into him, one set on his shoulder, the others raking through his hair, urging him to continue his ministrations. Good.

He breaks the kiss, leaving a trail of tiny kisses and bites along her jaw, neck, and collarbone, paying special attention to her nipples, lavishing them with his tongue. He drops to his knees in front of her, urging her to lean backwards against the wall behind them and Naomi does so without an ounce of hesitation.

The one hand not currently playing her like a fiddle runs along the smooth expanse of her curves, tracing every dimple and mark he can find. He does this until his eyes fall on the tiny tattoo marking her skin, resting on her hip. “I never took you as a tattoo kind of girl.”

“I have a few secrets left to tell, Ramsey.”

“Why on your hip?”

“My parents would’ve killed me if I got it somewhere visible,” Naomi explains breathlessly as Ethan continues to stroke her, slowly coaxing her towards an orgasm.

Ethan places a kiss on her left hip, right below the tattoo as if it’s to be revered before sucking a mark on it. Something to remember him by.

“Naomi?”

“Hmm?”

“Eyes on me,” Ethan commands her. It’s a tough task because the steam and the water have made it difficult to see and she would enjoy nothing more than to close her eyes and fully revel in what he’s doing to her, but they manage to lock eyes. “Good girl.”

The first swipe of his tongue against her makes her legs buckle, but thankfully Ethan keeps her upright.

His fingers curl inside of her, and Naomi swears her vision goes blurry for a second, but not once do her eyes waver from his. Ocean blue irises hold her gaze, and she feels like they’re burning her from the inside out. Everything is hot, too hot, but at the same time she feels like she might go insane without it.

The strokes are slow and languid. In, out, curl, twist, keeping pace with the way his tongue laves against her clit. Soon her breathless whimpers become more ragged, more labored and she grabs a handful of Ethan’s hair, tugging it so hard, she’d worry about actually pulling it out if she cared about anything other than finding the edge of the cliff he’s so close to pushing her off. Ethan can tell she’s close. The incessant tugging at his scalp, the increasingly louder moans, and the way her hand slaps against the wet tile.

She knows it’s coming, but her orgasm takes her by surprise, pleasure seizing her at the base of her spine. Her legs tense up and her entire body falls forward, taking Ethan with her. He cushions her fall, and they both land with a hard thud.

Naomi giggles again. And soon that giggle becomes a full on laugh, so uncontrollable that Ethan wonders if she’s snapped.

“I’m sorry. I’ve just never…fallen over during sex before,” saying that out loud makes her laugh again.

“And is this a good thing?”

Naomi leans forward and kisses Ethan, smiling through it. “We’ll you’re the first guy to ever make my legs give out in the middle of an orgasm so…yes. I’d say it’s a very good thing.”

Well that is a healthy ego boost, Ethan thinks to himself. “Good to know.”

When blood circulation has returned to her legs, Naomi stands up, pulling Ethan along with her. She deposits him on the spacious bench built in along the back wall of the shower and he falls onto the seat with a hard thud.

He watches through hooded lids as Naomi straddles him, undulating against him in a way that makes him want to take control and bury himself to the hilt inside her.

“Question for you, Ethan Ramsey,” Naomi starts.

“Answer for you, Naomi Valentine.”

“When I walked in here, were you thinking about me? Was I the subject in your dirty little fantasy?”

“Always,” Ethan is shocked by how breathless the answer comes out, but at this point, pride and ego aren’t needed. Not when they’re like this. “Since day one, I have been consumed with nothing but thoughts of you.”

“Mhmm, what was I doing in this particular fantasy?” Naomi asks. She takes him into her hands, and at a tortuous pace, rubs the swollen tip of his erection against her clit, drawing out a moan from the older man.

His memory fails him. Nothing he conjures up in his head will ever be comparable to the sight of a naked Naomi in his lap. She’s so beautiful, water droplets clinging to her skin, lips kiss swollen, loose strands of hair clinging to the sides of her face, her round cheeks flushed.

He doesn’t remember what the fantasy entailed, he just knew this woman’s presence was so overwhelming, if he didn’t expel some of the tension, he wouldn’t survive going to a black tie event with her.

“I don’t know. I don’t care,” Ethan says honestly. “The real you is so much better.”

“I think I like that answer.”

Ethan lifts her by the hips and in one smooth thrust, he’s fully sheathed inside of her. He notices that way Naomi’s eyes are fixed on where they’re joined, glazed over by pleasure and he’s never seen something so erotic.

She starts to move, slowly at first because she’s still way too sensitive from her last orgasm to do anything else. But the slow pace she sets does nothing to ease her, it only makes things worse. Every slow glide, every brush of his pelvis against her is magnified tenfold, and the heat she felt earlier has turned into a bull blown inferno, consuming every inch of her. But now, the only way out is through, and she’s trapped in a delicious purgatory until the next wave hits. It only intensifies when Ethan’s mouth closes around one of her nipples, sucking fiercely. “Oh, fuck.”

He releases the bud with a soft ‘pop’, pulling a soft groan from her lips. Her head falls back, but Ethan catches a fistful of her hair and drags her back, forcing her to make eye contact. “Eyes on me, Rookie. I want to see your face.”

The tiny pinpricks of pain at her scalp give way to pleasure as his grip on her tightens. “Harder.”

Ethan smirks and wordlessly obeys the order, pulling Naomi’s hair even harder as she moans. Huh. He’s going to tuck this information away for a later date and time.

The hand not holding her hair goes back to her hip and he squeezes tightly before guiding her up and down. And that’s when the pressure starts building again, up, and up, and up, until the only sounds that can be heard are the obscene slaps of their wet skin and her broken whimpers. His hand leaves her hip, not having to move far before his thumb is on her clit, working it in soft circles.

Naomi comes so hard, her teeth chatter and she’s almost afraid of cracking them. Unable to keep up the eye contact, she leans forward, resting her forehead against his. He gives her a second to catch her breath before he rocks into her, trying to chase his own release.

“Naomi, I…fucking I’m going to–”

She nods, understanding exactly what he’s trying to say. She bites down on his earlobe, tugging. “Inside me.” Then she kisses the patch of skin right below his ear and grinds against him once more. “Or on the tattoo.”

Holy fuck. That alone sets him off like a bottle rocket. He bites down on her shoulder hard enough to break skin.

His heart beats so wildly, he doesn’t know if it will ever return to its normal resting state. With his arms wrapped around her like this, he wonders if this is their new normal. How that he’s been with her like this, how on earth will she go back to being his subordinate. Everything about her feels like euphoria, her taste, her touch, her scent is embedded in him, so deep in his skin, she might as well be woven into his DNA. But the thing about it is, he’s not sure he wants it to.

On top of being a selfish bastard at times, he is wildly possessive.

It takes a long time for them to separate , neither one of them wanting to move or disrupt the peaceful little bubble they’ve created within the confines of this shower.

Eventually Ethan pulls Naomi off of him, but his grip on her remains steady. He stands as well and reaches behind him, grabbing the bottle of shower gel he has on the shelf. It isn’t until the clean scent of citrus and sea salt hits her nose does Naomi realize he’s using his shower gel. A chill sweeps through her. Sure they just had sex–great sex even–but sharing this man’s shower gel is a subtle intimacy that she wasn’t prepared for, and her chest goes tight.

“I smell like you,” Naomi murmurs sleepily.

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Of course not, you always smell good. I do draw the line at sharing shampoo. Whatever shit you use might destroy my hair.”

Ethan snorts. “I saw the amount of hair goop you stuffed into your suitcase. Trust me, I won’t get in the way of that routine.”

Once they’re both sufficiently lathered, they duck under the water to rinse off, and they finally step out of the shower. The entire room is full of steam, and Naomi almost feels bad that they wasted so much hot water. God, her skin is going to be so dry if she doesn’t moisturize soon.

Ethan wraps her in a large white terry cloth bathrobe before wrapping a towel around his waist.

“I’m still mad that you didn’t give me any sort of notice about this party,” Naomi huffs. Ethan rolls his eyes and takes a step forward, his hand wrapping around her waist, pulling her closer until her back is firmly against his chest.

“It’s in a few hours, how much more notice do you need?”

“What if I didn’t pack an appropriate dress?” Naomi implores hypothetically. “Or shoes?”

He shrugs. “I have a credit card, and this hotel has a boutique.”

“Well lucky for you, and your wallet, I packed a few dresses,” Naomi says. Her mother taught her to be prepared for any situation, including the spur of the moment black tie event. “I’ll pull together something decent.”

“You’re beautiful, you always look more than decent.”

“Compliments will get you everywhere with me, Ramsey.”

Using the palm of her hand, Naomi wipes some of the steam off of the mirror in front of them and takes a good look in the mirror. She looks thoroughly debauched. It’s going to take a miracle to pull herself together with just a few hours’ notice.

She also notices the dark mark blooming on her right shoulder, outlined by teeth marks. Ethan’s bite is only going to get darker and more prominent as time ticks on.

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to cover up this mark you gave me though.”

Ethan slides the robe off of her shoulder to examine the bite mark. He runs his thumb along it soothingly before planting a kiss on the spot. “I have a solution.”

“Oh yeah? What?”

Instead of replying immediately, Ethan bends down slightly and scoops up Naomi, bridal style. “How about I give you a matching one on the left shoulder?”

~v~

Tags: @openheartfanfics @mvalentine @choicesaddict5 @professorkingslay @maurine07 @aka-calliope @bluebellot @whimsicallywayward15 @blossomanarchy @takemyopenheart @jamespotterthefirst @fanmantrashcan @whatchique @ao719 @x-kyne-x @paulfwesley @the-pale-goddess @writinghereandthere @ramseyandrys @perriewinklenerdie @aworldoffandoms @thatcatlady0716 @drakewalker04 @canknot @hatescapsicum @lapisreviewsstuff @senseofduties @badchoicesposts @ethandaddyramseyx @chasingrobbie @zodiacsign1 @choices-lurker @my-heart-beats-for-ya @adrian-motherfucking-raines @riverrune @edith-eggs1 @cecilecontrera @thatysn @bellcat2010 @blainehellyes @junehiratas @choices-love-affair @openheart12 @desmaranj @nazario-sayeed @aestheticartsx @ruinedbypixels @nooruleman @rookie-ramsey @uneravine @choicest @schnitzelbutterfingers

[pawsitivelymiraculous]

Damian, the little brother, Dupain-Cheng (Part 1)

I'm backkkk! I explained why this series went on hiatus on this post but yeahhh the Damian Dupain-Cheng series is back and will be posted on it's old schedule (which is every other week) Anyway I really appreciate you guys,, sorry for taking so long and let me know what you think! Comments really motivate me to keep writing.

(I promise I'll add a read more thing and the links tomorrow but I need sleep. for now I'll add the masterlist you can find everything there)

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Ao3 Masterlist

~♡~ Recap ~♡~

Marinette kidnapped/adopted Damian after seeing him with Talia in the Miraculous Café. She gives him the choice between staying with her or a non assassin relative. He chooses to stay in hopes of stealing the miracle box, but since that didn't work he lashed out and tried to kill Marinette and her friends repeatedly. This makes Marinette doubt in herself because she feels guilty about the whole situation. After hearing Marinette cry, Damian runs away confused at the whole situation, but he didn't get far before realizing that he was actually okay with the idea of Marinette becoming his mother. Marinette finds him and they go home. Time passes, they get a dog, Damian grows closer to Marinette and Marinette legally adopts him.

This takes place some time after all of this, like a couple of months.

~♡~♡~♡~

Why am I still in Paris?  

Jason asked himself this every day, and yet he could never find the answer.

Maybe it was because he really had nothing else to do. Well besides killing a Bat.

Or maybe it was because being in Paris somehow cleared some of the madness leftover from the Lazarus Pit that clouded his brain.

In either case it seemed like every time he tried to leave, he would convince himself to stay with the lie that Marinette Dupain-cheng was just as dangerous as Talia had claimed she was.

And that his "brother" really was in danger.

Which only led to him tailing after the pair like a complete creep while feeling miserable because who was he kidding? The woman who had taken Damian in was just as dangerous  as a basket of golden retriever puppies and Damian would have a way better life living with her rather than with Bruce.

And still he could not f*cking leave.

So he continued to observe from the shadows. Trying to remain invisible.

Which had worked out perfectly fine until that day it seemed, because Jason soon found himself pressed against the cold concrete after being flipped by a woman half his size.

Jason tried to look up, but he felt the heel of a shoe pressed against his head.

"Ow"

"Oh, I'm sorry did I hurt you?" Jason heard a familiar voice say. The only difference was that she was speaking in English with a slight accent rather than French.

How the h*ll did she know that he spoke English?

Jason tried to get a better look at his attacker, but she just pressed down her heel deeper making it very clear that she was not sorry at all.

Marinette leaned down to talk to him. "Look kid, I just want to know why you keep following me. Now we can talk like normal people, or I'll have to be a little… unconventional. So what do you say?" 

Kid? Jason couldn't remember the last time he had been called. It was especially surreal coming from such a petite woman who couldn't be older than thirty.

"Now I'm going to let you stand up just… don't do anything stupid."

Stupid seemed to follow Jason because as soon as he felt the pressure on his head lessen, he stood up and ran. The only thing in his mind was getting away from the woman. 

He wasn't able to go far though. As soon as he got to the end of the ally they were in, Jason suddenly felt all the muscles in his body grow weak. Everything around him became blurry and for the second time that day, Jason fell down and hit the gravel.

~♡~♡~♡~

Marinette hadn't meant to use a tranquilizer she made from the bee's miraculous venom on the guy. Honest.

But she needed answers, and he didn't seem in the mood to be the one providing them, so she had to do something before he got away.

Marinette did find it strange how he seemed more interested in running rather than harming her in any way. But she could think about that later. For now, she had to do something about the unconscious body on the ground.

First, Marinette tried to drag him back into the ally because she didn't want to risk anyone seeing her. It was ridiculous how difficult it was to move the guy a couple of inches. Even with all the strength she got from being ladybug, Marinette found herself incredibly tired when she finally managed to get to the end of the alley.

There was no way that Marinette could drag the guy to a safe location. Unless… she had the horse miraculous.

Marinette swiftly grabbed her phone and called Adrien while still holding down the guy in case he regained consciousness. "Hey kitty! Are you busy right now?"

"Um no?" He replied cautiously. "Unless you need me to bury a body, then I'm really busy." He would gladly lie to the police and give marinette suggestions on how to get rid of the body, but actually digging a hole sounded like too much of a hassle in Adrien's opinion.

Marinette laughed nervously. "Don't worry it's not a body." She paused "Not a dead one at least" she added under her breath. 

Adrien heard her anyway "Marinette."

"I just need you to get the horse miraculous and come here." Marinette added quickly when she heard Adrien's disapproving tone. 

"Do I even want to know why you need it?"

Marinette hesitated. Adrien still acted weird around Damian, and she wasn't sure that he would want to get involved with this. "Well I found the guy that was following me" she explained  "and accidentally knocked him out" Marinette stopped when she saw a portal open. "And you’re already here, was there no traffic?"

Adrien laughed as he walked out of the portal. "I was already getting the miraculous while you talked." He explained with a shrug then he looked at the unconscious guy on the floor. "Sooo… do you need help with that?" 

~♡~♡~♡~

Kagami was already at the café's storage area by the time Adrien and Marinette passed through the portal.

Adrien did a double take when he saw her. "Woah, I literally just texted you."

"You said you found the stalker, and I was nearby, and I figured that you would need help interrogating him." she explained. 

"With a sword?" Marinette asked, eyeing Kagami's left hand. "Where did you even get that?"

Kagami smiled. "Yes, and your son has an excellent taste."

Marinette looked at kagami, with a very confused and slightly worried expression. "Wha- when did you go sword shopping?"

Adrien replied instead. "When you asked me to babysit, your little gremlin scares me and gami wanted a sword, so I let him go with her." Then he grabbed a nearby chair and sat the guy in it, and also tied him to one of the stands that held coffee supplies using zip ties.

"You have broken my trust Agreste." Marinette said trying to sound as serious as possible but failing at it. "No, but seriously, let me know next time okay?"

"Yes ma'am"

It took a couple of minutes for the guy to regain consciousness. And as soon as he did, he thrashed around trying to break free from his restraints. Looking around him wildly until his gaze landed on Marinette.

His eyes narrowed. "You" he lunged towards her but was held back.

His attitude was completely different from their first meeting. Before he seemed conflicted and confused. But while he still seemed very confused that confusion was now mixed with rage. Which Marinette could understand, she had just knocked him out and brought him to a strange place.

But Marinette needed answers, the guy was very clearly part of the league, his aura reeked of their darkness, and she was not about to feel sympathy for anyone connected to the league of assassins.

So Marinette held no remorse when she allowed kagami to approach him with her sword after he calmed down a bit. 

"Who are you?" Kagami asked threateningly, then raised the blade dangerously close to his neck. "And why have you been following Marinette?"

The guy didn't even flinch. "Name's Jason" then he turned slightly to look Marinette in the eye. "I am Damian's brother," he continued. 

Marinette's eyes widened. The room fell silent for a moment. 

Jason smirked at his captors' shocked faces as he gave the final blow.  "And I'm here to take him to his father."

~♡~♡~♡~ TAG LIST ~♡~♡~♡~

(If you want to be added please let me know)

@elmokingkong @anjuschiffer , @ii-fox-demon , @justcourttee , @tazanna-blythe , @lozzybowe , @idontfuking, @wannajointhecrabcult , @bakergirl13 , @rosalineandrosemary , @art-is-hard-to-do-sorry , @our-preciousss , @consumeconstantly , @jiso-lee , @allthegooddaimenettenamesaregone, @justcourteesuportline , @finallyaniguana , @user00000003 , @whydoexamsexist , @justafanwarrior , @violetfandomaddict, @smolplantmum @fidget-eep ,@cadenceh2o , @justarandomtumblerblog , @ramos123 @iwantasecretidentity @t1dwarrior-of-earth @thesunniestdays @alice-hazelwood

~♡~♡~♡~ PERMANENT TAG LIST ~♡~♡~♡~

@charme-de-malchan , @theatreandcomicfreak , @m3owww, @elliebelliegirl , @genevieve-the-demonologist, @vixen-uchiha , @t1dwarrior-of-earth , @waffleyunsure , @technicallyburninggarden , @azuremayscarlet , @vroomtaka , @emistar0 , @ichigorose , @maskedpainter , @art-is-hard-to-do-sorry , @alysrose-starchild , @jayjayspixiepop , @abrx2002 ,  @nathleigh , @icerosecrystal , @jumpingjoy82

[itrytowrite-things]

Murder podcasts

Spencer Reid x reader 

Summary: Y/N has a tendency to listen to murder podcasts while doing chores, one day Spencer comes in unannounced scaring Y/N into action. (This summary sucks but it’s fluffy) 

A/N: shout out to @with-paint, she helped me form some of this fic so check them out. 

The eerie background music and narrator filled the kitchen as I scrubbed diligently at a plate. I blinked down at it, trying in vain to remember what the hell I used it for that would cause such a stubborn stain of food. Sighing, I squeezed the soap bottle some more and ran hot water over it. Maybe soaking it would help? 

Grabbing a few of the cups I had washed, I spun around from the sink to a towel I had laid out earlier. I scrunched my nose as cold soap suds ran down my arm, hit my elbow and fell to the floor in a sticky mess I didn’t want to deal with right now. 

I was so engrossed in the podcast playing over the Alexa that I barely even processed the grueling chore that was longer than normal. I was lost in the words, that an hour longer scrubbing at dishes seemed almost fun. The dishwasher had completely died a couple of weeks ago. 

Normally Spencer would speed read the manual to figure out what was wrong with the stupid machine. But unfortunately, his case in Michigan was taking longer than he anticipated. So, he hadn’t been home to look into it, leaving me to hand wash the dishes. I didn’t mind, it was a mindless task and allowed me to catch up on my favorite podcast. 

“They found her body a week later, twenty minutes from their house,” I shook my head at that, case freaking solved. Her husband obviously killed her. I mean there’s no way the police didn’t solve this case, come on.

I moved from the towel back to the sink, sticking my hands back into the soapy water. I always believed that I should be a detective. I could solve these cases easily, Spencer claims that suspicion can only take me so far and the reason that they don’t catch the guy is not because they don’t suspect it, but because they don’t have hard evidence. I normally just scoff and give him a kiss knowing that I would get the bad guy in the end, “hard evidence” my ass. 

“Two months later the police came in and found Jeff’s disembodied head laying on their kitchen counter.” My jaw dropped and I turned around furiously, bringing a wet butter knife with me, on instinct I pointed the knife at the device. 

“Oh shit.” I said to the speaker, as if it were relaying the case itself. Well turns out I was wrong. I cleared my throat and lowered the stupid knife. I placed it down and tried my best to look less scandalized. We all make mistakes. So I might have been a little off in my husband theory, but I mean I had only heard half the case at that point so it doesn’t speak anything of my amazing detective skills. I nodded at that and tossed the knife into a little stack of silverware. The metallic sound echoing around the kitchen. I smirked at my good throw and turned back to the sink. 

I quickly got into the true grove of washing the dishes, listening to the more gruesome details of the case. Turns out the killer did quite a number on old Jeff. I was halfway done with the remaining dishes when I felt a tap on my shoulder sending my heart into a frenzy. 

I whirled around quickly bringing the closest item with me as a weapon. The plastic spatula slapped the asalint straight in the face creating an awfully loud twack sound that bounced off the kitchen walls. I blinked in horror at realizing who exactly was standing in front of me. 

Spencer's cheek turned red immediately. 

“Oh my god! Spence! I am so sorry!” I dropped the spatula and brought my other hand to his face trying to soothe his skin. My hand was covered in water and soap suds, and it dripped down his face onto the already wet floor.

“I am so so sorry. You scared me.” I rubbed my thumb over the spot, feeling his heated skin. Jesus, I felt awful. I didn’t hold anything back when I hit him. I figured I was fending for my life, not greeting my boyfriend. 

“It’s okay.” His much larger hand cupped mine removing it from his face. The redness had died down a little, making his skin a rosy pink instead of the previous bright red. He looked adorable which only made me feel worse. Who looks that cute after getting slapped in the face with a spatula? 

Spencer startled me yet again when a chuckle came bubbling out of him. His laugh was like someone bottled the sound of happiness. It made my own laughter arise every time without a doubt even if I didn’t understand what was funny.

“I guess I don’t have to worry about you protecting yourself.” A loud squeak sound emitted from my body unexpectedly followed by more laughter. I slapped him very lightly across the chest, kissing his unharmed cheek. 

“You're lucky I wasn’t cutting vegetables.” I said,  rustling my way into his arms pulling his body against my tightly, loving the way his laughter shook my entire body. I felt the short press of his lips against the crown of my head before tucking my head into the nook of his neck. I inhaled deeply, taking the scent of him with me. The apartment had started to lose its scent with him being gone for so long. I was beyond eager for the apartment to smell like us again.

“I think those podcasts are giving you wild ideas.” 

“They would never find your body Dr.Reid.” I teased, poking gently at his side making him squirm in my grip. Another round of laughter filled the small space, it was only when it died down that I realized my podcast was still running in the background. 

“Alexa, stop,” I shouted into the air stopping the podcast. “The neighbor did it.” I said with coincidence knowing that my answer was correct this time. Spencer let out a belt of laughter, nodding his head, a big grin on his face. 

I pulled back from Spencer taking in his features for the first time. He looked tired, his eye bags had doubled creating a skunk in effect. I could see the trouble in his eyes, the case was hard. It killed me to see him after a hard case, he looked more and more defeated after each one. However, it was what he loved doing and my job wasn’t to erase the trauma of his job, but to ease him back into daily life. I thumbed his eye bags lazily, a pout taking over my face. 

“You wanna take a shower and I’ll start us some dinner.” I asked gently. Not wanting to completely destroy the quiet we created. He nodded slightly looking younger than ever. I quickly pulled him back into me taking all of his weight. “I love you bub.” His hair felt silky against my fingertips as I disentangled the curls. 

“Love you too.” He mumbled, his heated breath warming my skin. I waited a few comfortable minutes rocking our conjoined bodies in the cozy silence of our kitchen, I took a deep breath and said what was on my mind. 

“You wanna talk about it?”

I don’t ever ask Spencer for the details of his cases. He either goes into a tangent without prompting or doesn’t feel like talking about it. I used to think that talking to Spencer about his job would be like listening to my murder podcasts. It honestly was one of the things I was excited for, but I soon found out it’s nothing like that.

When Spencer spoke of cases it was personal. He felt every death that was caused and saw every killing through the eyes of monsters. He held so much emotion in his voice when he spoke of the victims, that I often can’t help but cry. How a person can hold that much pain and still continue to do it everyday, is beside me. 

He shook his head, squeezing my torso before finally pulling back and placing a soft kiss to my lips. 

I continued the dishes, washing the last few. I left the podcast off, listening instead to the shower from down the hall. I scrubbed off the last of the grime before starting the oven. A simple dinner was always best in these situations. I pulled out a pre-made chicken pot pie from the freezer and placed it in the oven. 

As I moved to dry and put away the dishes while waiting for pie to finish. Spencer emerged from the bathroom freshly bathed. He wore a thin gray shirt paired with some soft looking sweatpants. My upper lip jutted out automatically. God I love him. 

“Feel better?” I kept my voice low, not wanting to startle any peace that the shower might have brought him. He nodded slowly. 

“What did you cook?”

“A chicken pot pie, I hope that’s okay.” 

“It’s perfect.” He smiled and returned to my arms, kissing my neck once before tucking his head into my neck. The edge of his wet hair scraped against my skin in an uncomfortable way, yet I only moved enough to rub circles into his back. 

A loud beep emitted from the oven caused me to jump in Spencer's arms. He let out a small chuckle. 

“Pick us something to watch and I’ll plate us some food.” I hummed turning my back to him. I heard him walking towards the living room as I bent to retrieve the hot food. 

Spencer sat criss cross on the couch, Les Enfants du Paradis was displayed on the TV. I handed him the steaming bowl and sat down, sitting close enough for our knees to knock together. I have no idea what Les Enfants du Paradis was, but I would watch literally anything he wanted as long as he was here. 

“It’s in French, but I figured I could whisper the translations to you while we watch. Or I could pick something else?” 

“No! This is perfect Spence. I love it when you translate, you tell the story better.” He let out a little blush highlighting his previous slap mark. I bit my lip and winced slightly, “How’s your face?” 

He touched the spot faintly, he didn’t wince when his fingers made contact which was a good sign. However, I have an inkling that a small bruise would form in the center of the slap which was going to be a fun story to tell his colleagues Monday. 

“I’ve had worse, but you wield a lot of power with a cheap piece of plastic.”

“I am professionally trained in the art of spatula wielding Spence, don’t try that at home.” I stared at him, my face blank before a blast of laughter came out of both of us. One can only be so serious when you are talking about slapping people in the face with kitchen utensils. 

Spencer started up the movie, and we remained there for the rest of the evening. Laughter and dramatic sighs followed by even more dramatic translations from Spencer. At some point he went so off script that even I could tell his story was bullshit. I didn’t call him out though just allowed him to spit nonsense, I would let him create fake French stories until he was blue in the face if that meant we got to stay in this happy bubble forever. 

[johnsamericano]

𝓓𝓪𝔂 10:

кιм נυиgωσσ

23 days of NCT masterlist.

taglist: @notbeforelong @silent-potato @whathamelon @unknown5tar @ajhdr @mrcarbonatedmilk @curieouscapt

warnings: unprotected sex (reader’s on the pill), y/n is kinda odd but in a good way, thigh riding (? Sort of.

“Please, Yuta. I need you.” You pleaded, falling onto your knees as you held onto his hand.

“Stop, people are watching.” He pulled you up, slightly vowing to the students staring at the little scene. “I’ve already told you I’m too busy with my own projects.”

“Yuta.” You whined, feeling like you were running out of options.

“I have a couple friends that might be willing to help you, but I can’t promise anything.”

As expected, all of them rejected you. Everyone was too caught up with their own work to care about yours. But one magnificent day, you found your muse. You met him at the cafeteria, he was simply eating pizza, yet he looked like a model.

He pretended not to acknowledge your piercing gaze, but as you started walking to his table he couldn't help but blush, playing anxiously with the pages of his textbook. Why was the goddess of the art department walking towards him?

“Hi, I'm y/n.” You casually sat in front of him, extending your hand towards him as if this wasn't the first time you'd seen him.

“I’m Jungwoo.” He was literally the epitome of cuteness, his pretty cheeks tinted pink and his brown locks casting shadows over his forehead.

“What’s your major?” You rested your chin over your palms, eyeing the book on the table.

“Mechanical engineering.” He surely didn't look like an engineer, but that sort of made him even more attractive.

“That's cool. So listen- wait, before that, can I grab a French fry? I'm starving.” He nodded, his eyebrows knitted together. “Thank you.”

You chewed on the savory fry, moaning at the flavor.

“So, what were you saying?”

“Oh, right!” You cleared your throat. “So for my final project, I have to paint a human portrait, but it turns out, none of my shitty friends wants to help me.” He couldn't help the small laugh escaping his lips. “Unbelievable, right? So I had no other choice but to hunt down the perfect muse by myself. I was about to give up just when I saw you, sitting here all by yourself like some mysterious rom-com guy.”

“Do you want me to be your muse?”

“Well since you're offering, I'd be more than happy to paint you.” He was about to object, but you resumed your nonstop chatting. “Of course, I’d pay for your time, not too much though, my part-time job doesn't pay that well.”

And that's pretty much how he ended up meeting you every Tuesday, sitting for two hours straight while you painted his gorgeous face. The mood was always cheerful with you around, always making small talk and provoking some smiles from him. He got to know you better during the month you spent together. Jungwoo realized you were the most authentic person he'd ever met, maybe that's why everyone on campus was so enamored by you. On the other hand, he was nothing like the shy boy you first met at the cafeteria. He was so bright, his laugh so pretty that it made you want to hear it every day.

“This is our last session.” You announced as soon as your canvas was fixed in place. “Time goes by so quickly, don't you think?”

“Yeah, sure.” You noticed the saddened expression on his face.

“What’s wrong, woo?” He loved the nickname you decided to give him on your first session, it made him feel closer to you.

“It’s just a pity that we won't get to see each other as often anymore.”

“Who says we won't?” You started moving the paintbrush over the canvas, adding the final details to your portrait.

“You still wanna hang out with me?”

“Of course I do! You're finally opening up to me, I won't risk losing the progress we've made.” His heart felt like it’d escape his chest any minute.

“I thought you were just using me for your project.” You gasped, approaching his seating place with the paintbrush still between your fingers.

“How dare you, Kim Jungwoo?” There was a dramatic pause before you painted the tip of his nose.

“You didn't.” You wiggled your eyebrows, running away from him as he stood up. “Get back here!”

“Stop!” You threatened him with your brush, back pressed against the wall. “I won't hesitate to paint you again.”

“Scary.” His chest was touching yours, faces barely centimeters away.

“Where’s the shy Jungwoo I met?”

“I don't know what you're talking about.” His knee positioned between your legs, pushing against your core. “What is it with that face?”

“Have you been deceiving me from the beginning?” You tiptoed, trying to hold back the small whine threatening to fall from your lips.

“No.” He raised his knee, this time, the imminent whine managing to get past your mouth. “I really was shy around you, but you're so easy to be with. I feel like I can be myself when I'm with you.”

“By yourself, you mean your horny self?” He started moving his limb back and forth, making sure to apply pressure on the right spot.

“I wasn't planning to do this, I didn't even know you wanted to see me after your project was done.” His finger pads danced over your neck, causing goosebumps over the sensitive skin.

“Well, then, are you gonna kiss me or should I take The first step?” He giggled before attaching his mouth to yours, a variety of new sensations growing at the bottom of your stomach. “God, I wish my project would've been related to nude portraits.”

“I would've definitely called the cops if you had asked me to be your nude model.”

“Mean.” Your face inched closer to his lips once again, slightly biting into his skin.

“Are you alright with this?” He lightened up the pressure on your heat, making sure you were both on the same page.

“Yes. But I don't know about making love in a classroom, though.”

“Making love?”

“I don't like the way ‘fucking’ sounds.” He chuckled. “Would you rather have me calling it sexual intercourse?”

“Stop talking before my dick gets soft.”

He lifted you with ease, sitting on the stool you usually used with you on his lap. His hands rubbed the sides of your thighs affectionately, slowly lifting the fabric of your purple dress to reveal your panties. He wasted no time on moving them to the side, quickly using his digits to make sure you were wet enough.

You helped him undo his jeans, clumsy hands struggling to get the zipper down.

“Allow me.”

“Be gentle, alright?” You placed your hands behind his head, toying with his brown locks as he aligned himself with you. He nodded. “I need verbal confirmation, woo.”

“I promise to be gentle, y/n.” You felt his tip prodding at your small hole, bracing yourself for the imminent pain. “Look at me.”

He started sliding inside you, your fingers accidentally tugging his hair. He didn't complain, though, too immersed in your face to even notice. You glanced at him, noticing how handsome he was from up close. His eyes looked like they carried the stars- no, the whole universe, you'd definitely have to paint them one day.

“Can I move?” You nodded, holding back the smile creeping up your lips as he started thrusting upwards. “Not even in my wildest dreams would I have imagined we'd end up like this.”

“Well, I'm glad you accepted to be my model.” You let out an open-mouthed moan, his dick hitting your G-spot.

“Pill?” You nodded, letting him do all the hard work while you enjoyed yourself. “Pretty.” He kissed your throat, holding your glutes to push himself further into you.

There were no words needed to know you were both incredibly close to release, just a few more thrusts had your pussy pulsating around him, his warm cum coating your walls.

“This is the best love-making session I've ever had.” You let your body fall against his, causing him to lose balance and almost fall down. “Sorry.”

“Well, we can always repeat this. Maybe I can actually be your nude model for your next masterpiece.”

“Who is this guy?” He chuckled, the corner of his eyes picking the image of the recently painted portrait. “Don’t look!”

But he was already admiring the product of your hard work, and it was amazing, to say the least. It was a picture of him smiling, sunlight coming in through the large window panel beside him and directly hitting his face.

“If you don't get an A, I'll write a complaint.”

“I like your way of thinking. I'm getting the feeling that you and I will be a power couple, only if you want that too, of course.”

“Let’s go out for dinner and I'll think about it.”

[falling-pages]

Fight for me: Hikaru x Renge

Renge tends to Hikaru's wounds after he gets in a fight to defend her.

-

Renge Houshakuji x Hikaru Hitachiin

Genre: Fluff, hurt/comfort, first kiss

Warnings: None

-

Hikaru knew how to throw a punch, but holding his own against three men was above even his own skill level.

It was amazing he had lasted so long in the fight until Mori spotted him and grabbed him by the scruff of his neck like a kitten, tossing him from the circle and finishing the fight himself. Those three upperclassmen didn’t stand a chance--yet he felt his blood run hot at the thought that he had to be saved when he was trying to save someone else.

Toui Kendarishi and his dumb fucking mouth just had to get under his skin, again.

A sharp scrub against his cheekbone jerked him back to reality. He hissed, going to swat at it, before the girl grabbed his wrist and pushed it back down.

“Don’t get mad at me, I’m just trying to help you,” Renge grumbled.

Yeah, some help she was. With every dab of the cotton ball and slab of ointment he relived every moment of the fight, every right hook and gut punch and kick he had endured for her, and she had no idea. The only soothing thing about this therapy appointment was her nails scratching his scalp, but only to distract him from a bad bout of pain.

He only rolled his eyes, jerking away as she moved on to his mouth. “I know you didn’t just roll your eyes at me,” she said, tugging at his bottom lip. His top lip had taken the brunt of Kendarishi’s fists, and all he tasted was his own blood in the back of his throat. He was sure he was a monster to look at, blood staining his teeth and tongue. As it dried against his skin, Renge thumbed it away, smearing it against her hand before she took a washcloth to it.

“So observant,” he hissed, resisting the urge to spit at the taste clouding his senses. Sarcasm was his trusted defense mechanism, and he relied on it heavily now to distract himself from the feeling of her fingers playing with his lips.

A harsh scrub against the wound was her own way of backtalk. “Sass me again, and I’ll stop, and you can explain to Kaoru why you look like a fucking Picasso,” she said.

“Tch.”

But he listened. The blood and spit and pain rendered him essentially mute, much to her amusement, as she worked. His eyes wandered around her bathroom, impossibly pink and frilly for a college apartment. Like the rest of her place, it was like Paris had vomited itself inside, the chunk of the concoction muddled in the bathroom. A pink fuzzy rug was below him as he was perched on her gilded toilet, a gaudy shower curtain boasting images of the Eiffel Tower, and even her mirror was embossed with rhinestones. Everything, from the toilet paper pile to the cosmetics cases, were perfectly stacked and organized, with not a speck of dust or dirt to be found.

Geez. And he thought her shrill demands of perfection in high school were bad. Their host room was spotless thanks to her dictatorship, but this was on another level.

“Admiring the bathroom, I see,” she said, sucking in her cheek as she fiddled with opening a band-aid. Her nails, long and purple, couldn’t quite find the purchase to pinch the covering from the adhesive side.

His life and health were quite literally in her hands, but Hikaru couldn’t hold back the snicker from his bleeding lips. “It’s mental,” he said, reaching up to help her with the band-aid.

Renge ripped it away from him, glowering down her nose at him in the most egregious French expression she could muster. He hadn’t known her in France, but he imagined that was the look she gave every servant, every waiter, every busboy who didn’t fit her exact demands. “I’ve got it,” she spat, turning her back to him. Her shoulders shook, but because of the effort of unpeeling the band-aid or some unknown emotion, he didn’t know.

“Here,” she resumed, turning to face him, and Hikaru’s heart cracked at the tears welling up in her pretty brown eyes, the heaviness in her voice. It sounded so heavy, despite its usual nasal tone, and exhausted, defeated. What had she gone through when her back was turned?

He made her cry. He knew he could take the teasing too far sometimes, but bringing a girl to tears was childish, a middle school prank he had sworn to leave far behind him. But he had done it again, not even to a nobody, but to the girl who was fixing him up, his friend, whom he had grown up with and bruised two ribs defending.

As she leaned down to apply the bandage to his cheek, he tried to meet eyes, to apologize without aggravating his poor lips, but she evaded his glance, pursing her lips and focusing on her work. Her hands shook, lightly grazing his temple.

“Renge, hey, I’m--” he grabbed her wrist, and she jerked away, stepping back until she hit the wall. His voice forced more tears from her eyes, and she buried her face in her hands as she sobbed, massive pink bow bobbing with every movement.

“Just stop, Hikaru, stop!” she yelled, muffled by her closing throat. “I can’t take it anymore. I can’t keep stitching you back up when you snap, I can’t take how mean you are. We aren’t in school anymore, we’re adults, we’re in college, and you’re just puffing your chest like you’re invincible, picking fights and losing them.” She finally showed her face, anger and fear and… something he couldn’t place etched into the lines beneath her eyes. “You want to know what’s mental?” She gestured to him, waving her hand up and down his whole form. “This is mental. You getting into fight after fight and not learning a damn thing from them, that’s what. It’s amazing you didn’t break your nose.”

Blood and anger coiled in the back of his throat. He lunged forward and grabbed her arm again, firmer this time, and yelled out, “I did this for you! I got in this fight for you!”

Renge pressed further against the wall, but she stopped fighting. Her hands shook in his tight grasp. Eyes as big as a silver dollar gazed up at him, heart thrumming wildly in her chest. “What?”

“I got in a fight with Kendarishi, right?”

“Yes.”

“And who is he to you?”

Renge blushed, letting her eyes drift to his chest. She spotted a new bruise mottling on his collarbone. “My ex-boyfriend.”

“Exactly.”

Hikaru released her wrists and watched as they fell to her side, like all the resistance had been sucked out of her. “Every time I fight with him, it’s because he said something bad about you. And then he started saying stuff about me fighting for you, so I just can’t win. I just have a lot of motivation and a lot of anger.”

“Why do you care so much what he says about me?” she asked, still not meeting his eyes.

“Because it was some bad stuff, Ren,” he said. “And I know we haven’t always gotten along, but you’re my friend, and I’m not gonna stand there and while he calls you a ‘fucking French whore who screws every guy she meets.’”

She swung at him, but he blocked, whining, “Hey, he said it, not me!”

When he put his hands down, she was shaking, with rage and sadness and something that looked an awful lot like determination in her eyes. “Bold of him to call me a whore when he’s the one who cheated.” Her hands ball into fists, and her eyes scanned him again--with a less medical glare, this time, and more of a vengeance. “And he did this to you?”

“Yeah?”

“I’ll be back.”

“Wait!”

Hikaru grabbed her by the back of her shirt and suddenly realized exactly how Mori must have felt watching him fight it out on the academic lawn. Renge’s feet scrambled on the tile, but he held her in place, dragged her back in front of him to block her path. “What, so you’re going to go fight him now since he fought me?”

“That’s not a good enough reason?” she pouted.

“No, but…” Hikaru rubbed the back of his neck. “You were just lecturing me about fighting him. Seems a little hypocritical to me, Ren.”

“Don’t use words you don’t understand,” she huffed, leaning back against the wall. She didn’t fight him when he leaned in closer, securely caging in her body. “You were just defending my honor. Let me do the same.”

“Mori dragged me out of the fight, so I’d say he fucked them up good enough,” Hikaru said, and his heart thumped especially hard when she laughed. Oh God, it was like the tinkling of a bell, cool and clear and exactly what he imagined confectioner’s sugar to sound like. He felt himself dragged with a current, down the slope of a well, but he didn’t mind; he looked into her eyes and allowed the feeling to bouy him along. If he weren’t bleeding, he might have just kissed her, but he didn’t need her slap adding to his injuries.

Renge’s breath hitched when he leaned closer, resting his forearm parallel above her head. She was so busy in high school that she never noticed how soft his eyes were, almost golden, like the rising sun over a field of wheat. It reminded her of mornings on her family’s country estate, when she would meditate and do yoga and drink tea while the world quietly joined her in consciousness, when everything was soft and drowsy. Such beautiful eyes, bruised and marred and bloodied for her.

“Renge, I--”

“Don’t,” she whispered, lacking her usual venom. “Let’s enjoy what we have right now.”

Hikaru bit his lip, immediately regretting it as the pain surged back through him. When Renge laughed again, he couldn’t help it; he leaned down and pressed his forehead against hers, drinking in that sweet, drawled perfume that he so often used to make fun of her for wearing. She smelled like a doll, but she was anything but--smart, outspoken, a firecracker all wrapped up in that pretty pink bow.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, lowering his hand to her hair without thinking. He caressed the silky locks, trailing his fingers down to touch her temple, tucking the stray hairs behind her ear. “And so soft.”

“You know I’m anything but soft,” she grumbled, but his touch was warm, and like a moth to a flame, she went to him, brushed her knuckles against the bruises on his collarbone. If it hurt him, he gave no indication; from the way he was looking at her, an asteroid could have hit earth and he probably wouldn’t have noticed.

“Sound pretty soft right now.”

Renge rolled her eyes. “Oh, shut up.”

“Gonna make me?”

Never one to turn down a challenge, Renge pushed up on her tiptoes and kissed him, as gently as she could manage. In an attempt to avoid his wound, her mouth only landed on half of his, but he could still taste the cinnamon on her breath, the stickiness of her lip gloss on his skin. Some hell of a first kiss, but at least it was a kiss, so he didn’t mind.

He ran his hands up her sides, tickling her ribs above her shirt. She broke the kiss with a giggle, bumping his nose with his as she threw her head back in laughter. What a beautiful sight he had there, all at the expense of a busted lip and a bruised eye.

“Remind me to get in a fight more often, if this is the payoff I get,” he whispered, grinning at her pointed glare.

“Don’t you dare,” she ordered. “You need to let this lip heal so I can give you a proper kiss.”

Hikaru raised an eyebrow. “That wasn’t a proper kiss?”

“No.” Renge lowered her eyes back to his mouth, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him back in. “Once you’re healed, I’ll show you how the French really kiss.”

-

Kofi & Commission

[icyxmischief]

Loki Ep 1 Pt 2

Blow by blow review, take 2: 

--The “sign this to verify that this is everything you’ve ever said” thing is genuinely hilarious.  I find it a little unlikely that he wouldn’t have ultra-suspiciously, with great characteristic paranoia, looked through every single page, and grilled the guy with the cat for info on where he was.  Little bit ooc for humor there, which is a major pet peeve of mine. 

--”Do a lot of people not know if they’re robots?” Okay this part was great bc it showcased Loki’s natural propensity to get into trouble because he’s such a curious cat and intellect, lol. 

--His scorn with “take a ticket” when only two variants are in the room is also very IC because Loki despises order without logical reason.  Order for its own sake is dangerous and oppressive and heyyyyy a lot like Thanos’s idea of a universe, ain’t it. 

--The All-Knowing Time-Keepers ended a timeline war, huh? H M m m m m M m m . They destroyed the capacity for nexus event and a multi-verse to exist huhhhhh? H M M M M M M M M .  Do I smell the potential for many Lokis from many Marvel canon verses, among other things? 

--

BITCH ME TOO, THE FUCK. 

--Okay I know everyone hates the logo but I kind of love how it is as fluid as Loki himself? A shape shifter? A master of magic and illusion? I’m sorry to all the graphic designers out there but I’m digging it for Conceptual Art reasons lol. 

--I’m sensing that if the French kid in 1549 thinks a horned devil caused a massacre in a church, this is evidence of Loki escaping the TVA to jump into the 1500s in France to cause mayhem. A bit predictable and I am hoping otherwise, but he IS Loki, “between damnation and redemption” at all hours.

--Owen Wilson’s character is strongly established as a good guy from the start.  

--”Madam, a god doesn’t plea.” Biiiiiiiiiitch yasssss.

--OHO he figured out the Avengers were time-traveling already, sharp. The reason why, he’s so far off that one must cringe for his fall from pride to come. 

--His laugh, that’s all. 

--”Hang on, everyone quiet, don’t rush me,” lol <3  Not a fan that once again he’s not allowed to use his full powers except within a contained system, but I’ll take it.  For now. 

--”You ridiculous bureaucrats will not dictate how my story ends.”   Wahoo if this series and character have a thesis statement, there it is.  Loki, God of Stories, forger of his own fate even when all tides run against it. 

--Loki doubting the reality of the TVA is an interesting hint into how much illusion was used to torture him as well as his own hyper reliance on illusion to protect himself. 

--Loki assuming Agent Mobius wants to kill him when Mobius is just showing him kindness is soooooooo revelatory of where Loki is psychologically right now.

--He still has his trademark swagger :D 

--”For the record this really does feel like a killing me kind of a room,” LOL, I love it, they’ve somehow kept his sense of humor spot-on! 

--”Trust is for children,” ahhhh kono kokoro. 

--”I live within whatever path I choose.” Ah, Loki, I wish you could, but is it so simple? 

--The fact that he tries to kill Mobius immediately and Mobius stops him while being fair and level-headed? I’m really liking Mobius. He’s the dare I say friend Loki has needed for a long time. 

--[Cooperation is] not my forte.” “Really, even when you’re wooing someone powerful you intend to betray?” Oho, okay Mobius, how long have you been serving as the metonymic stand-in for Loki’s fandom “army” and watching him grow and change  and self-sacrifice in the intended timeline? How well do you know him? You seem to know a lot, and that may be a good thing. You could be his advocate.

--”KING OF WHAT EXACTLY?” OH DAMN YES, MOBIUS, KEEP GOING.

--”WHY DOES SOMEONE WITH SO MUCH RANGE JUST WANNA RULE?” TFW A MARVEL CHARACTER HAS READ MY BLOG??????? YES?????? VINDICATION???????

--HE IS LITERALLY UNRAVELING THE TOXIC IDEOLOGY FORCED INTO LOKI UNDER THANOS???? ABOUT THE “LIE OF FREEDOM”?????? THIS IS AMAZING????

--”I don’t have to play this game. I’m a god.” Oh honey. Put the hackles down now, it’s okay.  You have far more heart than that, and far more accountability.

----Allowing Loki to see his entire “correct” (gulp) timeline (and God help us all if the end of this series involves him choosing to die in order to “fix the timeline,” I will RIOT if we get one more cheap “you’re only redeemed if you die horribly” growth arc for a morally ambiguous character) was the most important thing for me as a Loki fan of 10 years.  Allowing him to weep openly, to come to terms with the loss of his mother and the (too little too late, but at least extant) apology of his father, and, most of all, the potential to regain camaraderie with his brother, this was all that I wanted. A Loki allowed to flex his own muscles in his own limelight, no longer defined by what he lacks, but by what he can uniquely offer (even if in the “service” of an ethically dubious authority).  A Loki who KNOWS how much his brother has suffered and grieved but who still has his own freedom.I am admittedly optimistic.  The tone of the show is excellent.  My only fear at this point is a sacrificial death ending. Hopefully Loki will machinate a way to survive without breaking the universe with his divergent timelines, lol. Perhaps that’s the whole purpose of the plot going forward.

[little-lemon-lattes]

The Scheme

🌛Zelda Spellman x fem! reader

—Word count: 1.9k

— Triggers: Mention of murder and burning in a non-violent context

— Summary: We have part 2 to The Set Up! You and Zelda spend a blissful day together since kissing the night before, and make the most of being together before the mortuary fills with life- and typical Spellman scheming- again!

You were on Cloud-fucking-9.

The previous evening, you and Zelda had kissed. It had been truly extraordinary, even better than the few times you had allowed your mind to indulge in that kind of imagery concerning her. You had never felt that good with anyone before; well, minding that you had neither felt for anyone like that of which you had been trying to cover for the astonishing woman.

She currently lay in the grass next to you, cheek resting tentatively on your belly, as you both just watched each other in comfortable silence. Gosh, kissing Zelda had felt SO good that it had been hard to stop at just one. Like now. Her stunningly bright and beautiful green eyes were boring into yours, but you really couldn’t tell if she was trying to send you a signal or was just unwittingly that gorgeous on the daily. Probably the latter. You also had to remind yourself that, EVEN though you two already lived under the same roof, you would take things one step at a time together. The last 24 hours with Zelda had been like a dream, and the Spellman mortuary had a new air to it now that you knew where you stood.

That morning, you had woken just before dawn (which was much earlier than you preferred), likely still on a high from the feel of Zelda’s lips. Rather than lay there attempting to force yourself back to sleep, you rose from your pillow. Perhaps it was your always-lingering insecurity pulling some strings, but it suddenly seemed desperately important to you- then and there at 4:56am- that you find a way of proving to Zelda that she hadn’t made the wrong choice opening up to you the night before. Just one more bonus of Hilda’s disappearance that weekend being that the kitchen was inevitably free, within a few minutes you had decided to make a spot of breakfast to share. You would never admit it out loud, but you were also buzzing to showcase your culinary ability; of which had been somewhat hindered by the unspoken acknowledgement that Hilda was the kitchen witch of the house.

With that, you were out of bed and clothed in a black turtleneck and mom jeans, as you put the finishing touches on a French braid: all by 5:15. THe next two hours flew by as you whipped up black coffee, almond cake, black sausage, eggs, salmon, bagels, mushroom, and tomato. You were just laying out bloody-fleshed plums and yoghurt when you heard gentle footsteps on the landing above you. Smiling softly, you stopped to admire as the woman padded down the stairs, wrapped in a silky black robe and wiping bits of sleep from her eyes. She stopped dead as she spotted the food on the table, hand still raised to her eye.

“Surprise...?” you peeped.

Zelda’s hand flopped to her side as she tilted her head adorably, treating you to a giddy smile. And you were hopeless to try not to smile right back. That there was enough to have made the last two hours worth it. “

“What’s all this, y/n?”

“I, uh... breakfast?”

Zelda couldn’t help smiling a little more at the cute way you had made it seem like a question. “I see that,” she laughed, “but why?”

You forced an expression of mock pain onto your face.

“I am hurt, Spellman, hurt! Does there have to be a reason?”

All she did was raise her eyebrows in disbelief. You supposed it was probably best to build any chance you had together on honesty.

“Okay, FINE. I just... wanted to show you that last night wasn’t a mistake, in case you were having any doubts.”

Zelda trotted, cat-like, down from her post against the railing, and came to rest just half a metre in front of you.

“Why, there was absolutely nothing of the sort. I hardly slept a wink all night; your lips have something of a memorable feel to them, if I am honest.”

And this time, it was her that closed the space between you, snaking her arms around your waist to pull you closer. One long peck later, the bubblegum-pink shade of your cheeks matched hers in perfect unison, as if in competition.

Breakfast was sweet and long, spent thigh to thigh next to each other, chatting about all the things you had been too afraid to ask each other until that point.

The rest of the day was passed laying next to one another in the winter sunshine, beneath an age-old willow tree. After what felt like just minutes since you had arrived (but had really been hours), you pointed to the sky with the hand that wasn’t clasping Zelda’s.

“Look, the sun!”

You received a lazy “hmmm” in response. Twisting to face her on your left, you couldn’t fight your sigh of content. The High Priestess was laying with her eyes closed in utter bliss, the final rays of Sunday’s sunshine dancing across those glorious lashes.

“It’s setting, Zelda. Everyone will be back soon.” you murmured to her. It was as if you had thrown a bucket of ice over her. Cloud 9 disappeared with the snapping open of her eyes. The soft expression that had occupied her visage all day visibly hardened into her more familiar, stoic one. She leapt to her feet, snatching up the open novel beside her and swinging out her hand to you with force. Time and Space closed in around you the moment you took it, and, the next thing you knew, the two of you were outside the mortuary once more.

You turned to her sharply.

“What was that about?” you demanded. Standing silent for a moment, Zelda’s ears visibly pricked. After a few more moments, she seemed appeased, and swivelled to you. Her shoulders were tense, and you took note of her fingernails digging into her palm.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, “I didn’t mean to be so abrupt. I just... I am enthused about where you and I are headed, y/n, and I’m terrified that others may not share my enthusiasm. I want to enjoy things as they are at present for a while longer, before having to think about who needs to be involved in our business.”

It was understandable, you supposed, and admittedly: there was a certain appeal to keeping things 007-style, like that fantastic mortal film. You relaxed a bit, and instantly felt awful for raising your voice at her.

You reached for the woman’s shoulder.

“You’re right, Zelds. I understand.”

She looked unconvinced.

“Are you sure? You have every right to want to murder me right now, if you so wished. Although, only if you were to bury me in the Cain pit...” she added as an afterthought.

You had to giggle at that one.

“You’re safe for now, Zelda,” you teased, “now, come on! I need to find a good hiding spot for scaring the BANSHEES out of them when they get back!”

Hilda, Sabrina, and Ambrose literally stomped their feet in sheer disappointment when they arrived back at the house and hadn’t caught the pair of you locked in some form of intimate embrace.

“Aw man! What will I tell my friends?! I had Roz totally excited about y/n finally getting some action... Like, she seriously admitted that she had this big crush on her when she first met her; whiiiiich definitely earned a few looks from Harvey, to say the least. The take-away from it all is that we now know exactly how fragile that guy’s ego is, YIKES, is all I can say.”

All the while, Ambrose was muttering a consistent string of “fuck”s under his breath, and Hilda was deciding whether to scald Sabrina’s ass to Hades and back.

“Sabrina!” her aunt admonished in disbelief, “how could you be so careless?! If any of this gets back to your aunt Zelda, we should consider ourselves excommunicated from her presence for good!”  

All of them fought a cringe. Sabrina looked a bit sheepish.

Hilda turned to Ambrose.

“And what about you, mister? What’s with the constant profanities?”

Ambrose took a step back from his aunt, nobody was sure whether consciously or not. “Erm...hm. Yes. Well. I-” his sputtering was resembling a car trying to start up. Ambrose’s eyes suddenly seemed unable to reach past the witches’ knees.

  “-um. Damn. Hecate, yes, I have... just lost a particularly large sum of money to one Dorian Gray.”

Hilda’s eyes were ready to pop out of her head.   “I was so unequivocally certain that our plan would work! Now where I am supposed to come up with $1000?!”

He was a little manic. The only one of the three who seemed somewhat happy about Ambrose’s situation was Sabrina, sticking a finger at him. “HA! Now that makes what I did so much better!”

Her plum-coloured lips parted with glee, and without warning, her and her travel bag had disappeared. Ambrose made a furious mental note to pour formaldehyde in her evening tea for leaving him here alone. When he had finally built up the courage to look his otherwise cheery aunt in the eyes again, a flash of fear struck him at the murderous look in hers. A low growl exited her throat.

“Well,” she snapped, “I suppose there will be no more silly little attempts on our part to play Cupid.”

As quickly as it had started, her anger dissipated, and was replaced by a certain sadness. Her mouth raised just a fraction, into a tired little smile.

“ ’just thought that Zelds could do with something nice for once. We failed. It didn’t work.”

With that, she picked up her carpet bag and shuffled off up the stairs. Ambrose watched her go, now a lone silhouette in the entrance of their home.

Or so he thought. You waited until Ambrose had moodily trudged down to the embalming room before emerging from your spot in the broom closet. Sniffling a little from all the dust- those things hadn’t been flown for years, SO old fashioned- you felt a mix of emotion at what you had just heard. You hadn’t intended on becoming an audience to some type of scheme, and especially not one of which involved you.

At first, there was embarrassment. You hadn’t realised that your feelings were apparently so obvious! Paired with the fact that Zelda’s must have been too in order to warrant such a matchmaking scheme; along with that you had truly thought that you had done a superb job at keeping it all under wraps, you were left feeling a bit stupid. But then came the funny side of it all, imagining Hilda, Ambrose, and Sabrina sneaking about like the Pink Panther and holding secret meetings about your love life. And finally came the warmth, the realisation of exactly how much the Spellmans had grown to care for you- so much that they trusted you to love Zelda as much as they did.

The whole situation was entirely too much of an opportunity to just leave alone. Grinning with total delight and schemes cooking of your own, you rematerialised in Zelda’s study at the Academy. The loud CRACK that accompanied that particular piece of magic made the woman flinch. Her brow crinkled at the sight of you in front of her great oaken desk. She was a little taken aback, and (it delighted you even more) flustered to see you there.

“Y/n?”

“Zelda. I NEED to tell you what I just heard!”

A game was now afoot.

And your opponents weren’t finished yet either.

[fandomscombine]

No, Not Like This (George Weasley x Reader)

I am rewatching New Girl yea and the episode of S2x15. You know the one with the ICONIC Nick and Jess 1st  Kiss?

Yup, now enjoy it as George Weasley x Reader! With guest appearances of Fred, Lee, Angelina & Alicia. *wink wink*

WC:1673

Read [Part 2]

>>>MASTERLIST<<<

>>JOIN MY WRITING CHALLENGE!<<

It’s the night before Christmas break and your friends are ever so kind to throw a small party. They let kinda bad as they were all off to spend the holiday at their homes while you spend the next 3 weeks in Hogwarts. You weren’t that sad though, sure your parents were off to spend their 20th wedding anniversary and you are going to celebrate the holidays alone-well there are a couple of 2nd and 5th year students, none you are close with, stuck at Hogwarts too.- but you didn’t really mind cause there is something about Hogwarts during the holidays that makes it more magical.

Your friends are literally the sweetest bunch you’ve ever meat and wouldn’t have any other. Which lead to now, sitting in a circle for a game of Truth or Dare Exploding Jenga. It works like every other Jenga game, the goal it to pull out a piece without it falling and place said piece on the top. The twist is that there is either a truth or a dare written on the piece in which the player who took it must follow, if the player doesn’t accept to do said truth or dare within the 30 seconds, the tower of Jenga would explode and cover the player with brown mystery slime.

‘CHUG CHUG CHUG CHUG!’ You all chorused, while Lee Jordan drowns his 5th shot of firewhiskey.

‘And time.’ Alicia pauses the stopwatch. ‘Just under 20 seconds!’

‘A new record!’ chimed Fred.

Lee looked to his left. ‘Alright Angelina, you’re up next. See if you could beat that!’

Angelina raises a brow at him. ‘You do know that each turn has a different dare, right? Or are you too drunk to remember?’

‘NOPE not just drunnkkk’ He slurred.

‘Truth.’ Angelina reads ‘Who is the most attractive person among the group?’

She places the block carefully on the top. ‘EASY. ALICIA’ She states casually. Sitting back down and not breaking eye contact with the now very red Alicia across from her.

‘Now that would be hard to beat.’ Fred stands and takes a block from one of the lower levels, leaving a middle piece. The tower sways a little.

‘Oi, you piece of shit, I’m next!’ You scream. ‘Why’d you have to take that one!’

‘Player’s choice. y/n/n, player’s choice.’ Reading his block, he chuckled. ‘Oh, Georgie this is gonna be good.’

George now curious asks, ‘well then what is it?’

Fred puffed up his chest, ‘Dare: Sit on the lap of the player on your left for one round.’

Everyone laughed including you, though not George through, it seemed like he was fuming.

Then it clicked. Wait a minute. You’re next!

Not that you mind though, it is just a game, and Fred is one of your best friends. You just wished that it was another twin that was in his position.

‘Alright Freddie bring it in.’ Patting your thighs. ‘You’ll always have a seat with me’ you teased.

‘Opfff! Oi boy be gentle!’ Fred had just dropped his weight on you.

‘Sorry.’ He muffled into your neck.

Your embrace position with Fred proved to make it difficult to reach for the tower. ‘Heyya Freddie, do you mind?’

He looks up at you, then the tower and back. ‘No can do amiga, rules are rules. And the dare says I have to stay seated.’

‘Ugh you prick.’ Sticking your tongue out at him. Rules are rules, yet there were none stating that the use of wands is not allowed.

‘HEyyyy! No cheating’ shouted Angelina.

‘There are no rules against using wands!’

‘Dammit….She’s right.’

‘Thank you, George.’

You read the levitating block in front of you. ‘Dare: Snog the player across from you for at least 20 seconds.’

‘Now that’s what I call a dare’ exclaimed Alicia.

Placing the block on top with the help of your wand, who glanced down to see who was across from you. OH OH.

As if he had read your thoughts. Fred sang ‘Ohh lala’ He left your lap. ‘Georgie, Georgie, Georgie! You lucky man!’ he teased.

‘Oh now you decide you release me?’

You make your way to George with the chanting of ‘KISS! KISS! KISS!’ seem like background noised against your nerves. Sure, it’s just a game, but you were given the opportunity of a lifetime to kiss you crush that happens to also be your best friend who you no doubt thinks of you just as that- a friend.

You held your hand out to George and pulled him right up. ‘So…uh…you good?’

He lets out a nervous breath ‘yea..yea’

‘Don’t worry, I’m nervous too.’ You admitted. ‘Let’s just suck it up and French a little.’

‘Okay fine but don’t say “Let’s just suck it up and French a little.”’ You can see him fidget a little. ‘Let’s just do it, No big deal.’ He mutters- more to himself.

‘Yea no big deal.’ You echoed though boy did you wish it would mean something. You tried to keep a serious face on and manage the blush that has no doubt covered all over your face. All that resolve though came crashing down when you saw what he was doing. ‘Why are you licking your lips?’

‘Should I not? Do you want dry lips?’

‘NO!’

‘Then I’m just licking them to make them better.’ He reasoned.

‘okay fine’

‘fine’

‘just kiss me, we’re running out of time!’

You could faintly here your friends counting down from 10….9….8..

‘yea, but first-‘

‘GOSH WEASLEY! YOU’VE KISSED OTHER GIRLS BEFORE! JUST KISS ME ALREADY!’

‘NO, NOT LIKE THIS!’ He bursts. ‘Not like this.’

‘What?’ Mouth opened; you were caught off guard. ‘What does that mean?’

‘Ahhh no , nothing , I… I…’

BOOM.

The Jenga tower explodes, magically covering only you with slime- as if was you who failed to complete your dare.

The explosion seems to bring George back into his body. ‘I’m sorry y/n…I…I gotta go’ And with that he ran out the common room.

It felt like a slap in the face. Did he not want to kiss you? Yea it was a game….but… What did he mean by ‘No, not like this’.

You were pulled from your thoughts by the retching of Lee on the carpet.

‘Oh Disgusting’ Fred helps him up from the floor. ‘Let’s get you cleaned up buddy.’

He looks up at you. ‘Hey I’m sorry the party had to end this way, And I’m even more sorry for my idiot brother.’

‘Nah, it’s fine Fred. Thank you though.’ You place a hand on his arm. ‘Hope you have a great Christmas.’

Fred’s eyes go wide and facepalms himself. ‘Crap I almost forgot, and such horrible timing too. But I owled mom earlier today and she says that you are welcomed to stay over at the Burrow for the holidays.’

‘Really?!?’

‘Yea, We didn’t want you to spend the holidays alone-‘

‘We?’

‘Uh George and I’ He gives you a weak smile. ‘So, are you in?’

‘Heck yea!’ You hugged him tightly. ‘Thank you.’

When you part, he holds onto your arms a second longer. ‘Just don’t mind my idiotic brother okay? He genuinely cares for you, talk to him okay? It’s not like him to chicken out.’

You nod.

Next to you Alicia appears with wash cloths.

‘Come on y/n let’s get you upstairs and cleaned up.’

‘So…Angelina huh?’ you tease.

‘oh shut up!’

~

‘Damn it!’ You cursed. It was 2 am and everyone is asleep. You had finally finished your last-minute packing when you realized that your wand is missing. So here you were, tearing the common room apart.

You rummaged under the couch ‘It has got to be somewhere here. Where are you, you damn magic stick?’ You remembered last using your wand near the couch. But it must have rolled away due to all the chaos.

‘Looking for this?’

‘AHH!’ Startled by the voice, you banged your head on one of the arms.

You look up and see the one and only George Weasley.

‘Yea, thanks.’ Grabbing your wand from him.

The awkward tension between you too is palpable.

You turn to head back up to bed. But George’s hand on your arm stops you.

‘y/n… I’m sorry about earlier.’

‘It’s alright..’ You had considered to ask about what he meant by ‘No, not like this’ his words still had you guessing, you had to know. ‘Um George…’

‘yea?’

‘Fred told me about you guys asking Molly if I could come with and spend the holidays with you. Thanks for that’.

You chickened out, you chickened out! You couldn’t believe it, but your rational self pointed out you can’t risk it being more awkward with George especially when you’ll be spending the next several weeks with him and his family. IN HIS HOUSE. WITH 24 HOUR CONTACT.

George merely nodded. His eyes were moving around a lot. Signs that you knew he was thinking about something- that or he was genuinely tired and is kindly trying to stay awake for you- it is currently 2am.

Concluding that it was due to exhaustion, you bid him good night.

You were midway up the steps when you once again stopped by a hand.

‘Wha—’ Though this time you weren’t greeted by his word but rather of his soft lips.

George Weasley is kissing you! George Weasley is kissing you!

After the initial shock, you reacted and kissed him back with equal passion. The moment didn’t break, even when you felt your back hit the wall. All you could concentrate on was George’s lips on yours and his hands on your waist while yours are tangled in his red hair.

Pulling apart to catch your breath, foreheads touching and his eyes that seem to see into your soul. What he said next, put a smile on your face and butterflies in your stomach that won’t be leaving soon.

‘I meant something like that. I didn’t wanna kiss you because of a game. I want to kiss you because you mean something to me’

~

Read [Part 2]

Part 2?? Anyone? When they spend Christmas in the burrow? Lol just a thought.

Taglist for this fic ‘No, Not like this’: @stopicouldvedroppedmykwusant​ @l0ttadreamz​

Taglist [All/General]: @gruffle1​

[inky-duchess]

21 History Ancedotes for my 21st Birthday

So today I celebrate my 21st birthday and I have decided to gift you all with 21 of my favourite historical Ancedotes. Some are funny, some are sad and some are plain bizarre but I hope the make your day 💜

Mary Maloney, an Irish-born suffragette in England followed Winston Churchill around while he was campaigning for a seat in Parliament, drowning out everything he said with a very large bell and calls for him to apologise for his comments on women's rights and suffrage movements.

Clodius Pulcher was a well born Roman noble during the last day's of the Republic. He gave up his Patrician status to become Tribune of the Plebs (an office in which one had to be a Pleb) by being adopted by a much younger Plebian man who became his "father". Clodius was a bit of a riot, sneaking into religious festivals dressed like a woman to sleep with Caesar's wife, building a shrine to Liberty in the ruins of the Conservative Cicero, vetoed the last speech of one of the Consuls (who basically did nothing all year and was apparently going to roast Caesar) and burned down the Senate House with his funeral pyre (the Plebs who loved him literally tearing up the furniture to build his pyre). He was honestly the best fun.

When laying on her deathbed, Queen Caroline of Ansbach turned to her husband George II of England and told him he should marry again. George refused to ever wed again... But added he would have mistresses. Caroline said , likely with a roll of her eyes, "oh my god that doesn't matter."

Florence was a pretty cool city in the Renaissance until Savanorola came to town. He disliked the loose living artists that crowded the city, with their naked pagan gods and rampant homosexuality. He expelled them all with help of the French hoping to make Florence Holy Again. When the Borgia Pope excommunicated him and sentenced him to death, one man in the crowd was reported to have said. "thank God, niw we can return to sodomy." One Floretine man in the 1490s said Gay Rights.

So this list couldn't be complete without an entry of the only American politician I love, Alexander Hamilton who was just a walking entity of sass. I could go on about his sharp sarcasm or his disaster bi vibes with John Lauren's but my all time favourite Alexander Hamilton ancedote has to be this exchange with Thomas Jefferson "There are approximately 1010300 words in the English language, but I could never string enough words together to properly explain how much I want to hit you with a chair."

Caterina Sforza was an Italian noble woman during the Renaissance. She was apart of the powerful Sforza family, which drew many enemies to her. One fateful day at Forli, Caterina's children were snatched as hostages. The besiegers threatened to kill her children if she did not cede the castle. Caterina refused, lifting her skirts and shouted to the besiegers that she had the means to make more children.

Hannibal Lecter's creator Thomas Harris was happy to end his great character's story with the original trilogy. However his publishers forced him to write an unneeded prequel explaining why Hannibal became Hannibal. Thomas Harris agreed lest he lose the rights to his character so he wrote Hannibal Rising, where Hannibal as a young man hunts down the Nazis who ate his sister with a katana.

Nell Gwyn is my favourite mistress of Charles II, mainly because of her sass. Once while trapped in the middle of a riot where Londoners swamped her carriage thinking she was Charles's Catholic mistress. She popped her head out the carriage and told the people "Pray good people be civil. I am the Protestant whore." She also dosed her rival Moll Davis with laxatives in order to free up some of Charles's time and she once flashed her underwear at the French ambassador after asking him why the Franch King did not pay her to spy on Charles because she was with him every night. A true Queen.

Emperor Ai of the Han Dynasty of China once rose from his bed to go do some ruling when he realised his lover, Dong Xian was sleeping on his sleeve. Rather than disturb his lover, the Emperor cut his sleeve off at the wrist to leave Dong Xian nap. Nothing has ever been more romantic than that. Y'all could never.

Princess Margaret the sister of current Queen Elizabeth II was a socialable Princess and often tasked to visit the up and coming music stars of the day on behalf of the Crown. When meeting the Beatles one evening, she noticed George Harrison was acting a little odd. When she asked what was the matter, he replied "We arent allowed eat until you go." Princess Margaret laughed and promptly left so the Beatles could get some dinner.

During the Siege of Jadotsville, Irish soldiers under the flag of the UN were attacked and besieged by local insurgents allied with the Katanga Regime. The insurgents numbered thousands while the Irish only had 158 soldiers, all who were lightly armed. They radioed to their allies assuring them that "we will hold out until our last bullet is spent. Could use some whiskey though".

Napoleon was famous for writing raunchy letters to his wife, the Empress Josephine while he was away. She used to reply with really mundane letters or not at all. She really just could not be bothered with him.

Josip Broz Tito was so fed up with Joseph Stalin sending assassins to kill him, he wrote to Stalin personally to say "If you don't stop sending assassins to kill me. I will send one to Moscow and I won't have to send another." It didn't work but Big Dick Energy.

Successful Roman soldiers returning from war often got to march along in parades known as Triumphs. During this, it was customary for them to sing bawdy songs about their commander. One surviving one about Caesar goes like this "Romans, lock up your wives. Here comes the bald adulterous whore. We pissed away your gold in Gaul and come to borrow more."

Matilda, Lady of the English was a woman so badass that history cannot handle her. She was the daughter of Henry I who left his throne to her after the death of her brother. She was away in France when her father died and her throne was snatched by her cousin Stephen. They battled back and forth for years with neither side ceding any ground. Matilda was once besieged in a castle during a snow storm, with Stephen's men all around her. Instead of fighting her way out. She simply donned a white cloak and walked out of the castle. Just walked out without any of Stephen's men seeing her.

Pedro of Portugal once fell in love with a beautiful lady in waiting called Inez de Castro. For years, they lived as man and mistress, popping out a few kinds. Pedro's dad really did not like Inez and wanted Pedro to find a legitimate wife so he had her killed. Pedro returned home to find the mother of his children dead. Pedro went a little crazy. He had all his father's assassins killed, ripping out their hearts as they had done to him. When Pedro ascended the throne, he demanded the Pope legitimize his children by Inez. The Pope not wanting to upset the King, said he couldn't because Inez was never crowned Queen. Pedro dug Inez up and crowned her as Queen, having all the nobility swear loyalty to her corpse. The Pope had no choice but to agree to his request.

A famously clever general once saved an entire city with an ingenious stragety to sit outside the city waiting for the attacking army to come. The attack had come to fast for the city to ready themselves for a Siege so, the general had to move quickly. He evacuated the city and took his place waiting for the army to come. The enemy forces stopped and took one look at him and bolted, thinking he meant to lure them in one of his famous traps.

Michaelangelo was really badly treated by the Vatican when he was painting the Sistine Chapel. He constantly fought with the Popes over the design and his work, which he was paid peanuts for. Michaelangelo got his revenge in his work, painting the gates of Hell behind the Papal Throne and an angel flipping the ol' fig (the Renaissance version of the bird) toward the Pope's chair.

Peter the Great was not a perfect guy. He kept serfdom as a practise in his kingdom, he had his son tortured to death and he could be an unpleasant guy. But Peter was a dreamer. He wanted nothing more to build a fleet for Russia and bring Russia beyond its borders. Peter took a gap year from ruling Russia to wander around Europe. When he stopped in England, he was granted Leicester House to chill in while he did his shipwright studies. It was here that Peter found a new passion. The wheelbarrow. Cue Peter and his new found English buddies drinking in Leicester House, punching the artwork and rolling each other around in barrels across the house's Great gardens.

Diogenes is hands down a walking shit post. He was a great thinker in Greece during the reign of Alexander but a rather dry, sarcastic wit. He lived in a pithos/a jar because he shunned all vanities and values of society. He trolled other philosophers, attending their debates to heckle them and eat loud foods through them. When Alexander the Great came to fan boy over him, saying that if he were not Alexander he would like to be Diogenes to which Diogenes just said "yeah me too, now get out of my sunlight."

Cosimo de Medici was the son of a Floretine banker with a great knowledge and love of art. Cosimo wished for Florence to release its potentially and join the Renaissance. He hired Filippo Brunelleschi to finsh the Great Dome of Santa Maria del Fiore which had láin unfinished for over a century, a symbol of a failure of ambition. The builders had lost the knowledge of creating a dome so large so it remained unfinished. Despite much opposition from the other nobility and denouncers of the Renaissance, Cosimo's dream of the completion of the dome was completed, making it the largest brick dome in creation at that time. There is nothing like achieving your dreams and certainly nothing like leaving a lasting reminder that screams 'I was right and you were wrong' to stand for centuries.