#i added the tumblrs i knew but let me know if you don't want to be tagged please

[spirkme915]

spirk fics i've read recently(ish) and loved

My Heart to Your Heart by greenforsnow @m-b-w - TOS - need a gentle fic? this is it. softness pervades every syllable of this fic!

Through the Wall by Sexy_Lil_Emo - AOS - a fic inspired by nsfw fanart. who needs plot with that?

Malfunction by Maeko - AOS - a nice, short nightcap when you need something sweet to read before bed

Impulse (or, Three Kisses) by decidedlynotheterosexual @decidedly-not-heterosexual - TOS - spock loses control but in the *sweetest* way and they talk about it like adults and this is just soothing and nice

The Proposal by TheKittyCorps @contrascene - AOS - spirk version of "the proposal." laugh out loud funny in parts (yes, hijinks included)

Heirs to the Glimmering World by gunstreet @gunstreet - SNW/TOS - sybok, michael, and sam conspire to get their brothers together!! siblings! tentative first meetings! sex!

De Profundis by Rhaegal (RhaegalKS) - TOS - tmp-era spirk. spock knows he fucked up so he's gonna woo jim

The Kiss by awarrington - TOS - there are some super dated things in this fic (it was originally written in 1994) but this is one of the best i've read dealing with jim coming to terms with his bisexuality and attraction to spock. def don't read if you can't or don't want to take it in context of its time. if you can/have the emotional bandwidth to, then it's well worth it

On the Arrow by Fic_me_senseless - AOS - post-into darkness, heavy read, so much longing, and pain, and it makes you ache in the best way

i'm also in a "watch beyond on repeat phase" so here are my favorite post-beyond fics:

The Steadfastness of Stars by itsnatalie - AOS - this fic. THIS FIC. i was only going to read one paragraph, really. i skipped work, read the whole thing, and now this is in my top five spirk fics

in my life, i love you more by spaceisgay (ChancellorGriffin) - AOS - idek how many times i've read this now. i watch beyond, i read this fic. if they never make a fourth movie, this will be my canon

And Then I Let It Go by kianspo - AOS - yorktown happens, spock goes missing, jim goes after him. this could so be canon too

on the complete opposite side of post-beyond angst is two (YES TWO, we are so blessed!) "spock makes jim coffee" fics that will both make you smile and feel warm all over:

Home in a Mug by Lizzy0305

certainty relief by itsamew @enterprise-me-capn

and (because i can never quite seem to keep these lists solely focused on spirk) one AOS mckirk fic:

retro/spect by slightlycrunchy @slightlycrunchy - best friends to lovers anyone? this is just so so so lovely!

[darylssunshine]

Mine.

Pairing: Daryl x Reader

Era: Commonwealth

Summary: Daryl indulges in one of your kinks.

Warnings: Poorly written smut, p in v, swearing, knives, choking

Word count: 1k (ish)

A/N: This is my first time writing smut so I am very scared LOL. The first fic you post on tumblr being smut can be very nerve-wracking. Just had Daryl indulging my knife kink rattling around in my brain and I got inspired.

~~~~~

“Shut th' fuck up, slut.”

A hand was pressed down onto your mouth as a growl exited his, while the other grasped both your wrists and held them above your head. Daryl's length was moving back and forth through your walls at a dizzying pace while your eyes rolled into the back of your head in pure bliss. Though your eyes were now wide open and staring directly at the redneck on top of you because of his previous comment. Your breath hitched and you nodded your head fervently. 

The hand that was previously pressed onto your mouth moved down to squeeze your throat, all while continuing to pound into you, causing a whine to crawl out of you, your mouth still closed. 

“Tryin’ to stay quiet for me like tha'. Good fuckin’ girl.” 

The mix of degradations and praise combined with the added pressure increasing on your throat had your head spinning and a knot building in your lower stomach. “Who do you fuckin’ belong to? Who is it, huh?” Daryl purposefully leaned down to growl against your ear, knowing each and every one of your turn ons. The mix of pain and pleasure was too much for your brain to handle, not being able to think a single thought, let alone a coherent sentence. So instead of answering, you gave a high-pitched moan in response, drool dripping down the corner of your mouth and onto your chest.

He smirked. He fucking smirked, and somehow quickened the pace.

Daryl gave a raspy grunt in disapproval and gripped your chin that was previously on your throat, forcing you to look at him directly. “Didn't hear ya, slut. Who d'ya belong to?”

You snapped out of your haze, not wanting to disappoint nor disobey him. “Y- … You.” You struggled to stutter out in between your fast breaths. 

“That's.” Thrust. “Fuckin’.” Thrust. “Right.” Thrust. 

He slowed his thrusts down to a lazy pace before stopping completely, earning a dramatic whine from the depths of your soul when you felt him slip out of you. “Dar!” You dragged in an annoyed tone, Daryl already stepping off the bed and onto the carpet. He simply chuckled lightly and rolled his eyes.

“Relax. Wanna try somethin'.”

He grabbed something from off of the shared dresser you had on the other side of the room, making sure you didn't see what it was and hid it behind his back. Slowly, he walked back to the bed and got in a sitting position, making direct eye contact the whole time, building anticipation. “C'mon over and ride me, but don't face me.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion, but you did as you were told, crawling on your hands and knees to the middle of the bed where Daryl now was, and gently eased yourself back onto his cock, bouncing slowly. “What's this about, Dar?” You questioned, your breath already beginning to quicken.

“You'll see. Just keep ridin', sunshine.” Once again, albeit confused, did as you were told, already getting comfortable with the position, letting small moans slip out, all while Daryl rubbed your hip with his left hand and still holding that unknown something in his right.

Immediately after those words left your mouth, his long, sharp, hunting knife met with the base of your throat, while his other free hand gripped your hair and tilted your head back, exposing even more of the soft flesh. And he was pushing on it, increasing the pressure with every thrust. He's went out hunting with that knife before you two even met, so you had no doubt he knew what he was doing, and that thought somehow turned you on more than you already were. He swiped it slightly along your clavicle, almost drawing blood.

“You ready, baby?”

Even while you were experiencing the bliss of riding his cock over and over, that elicited a chuckle from you. Why was he being so secretive? “For what, babe?”

Your mouth went slack. No noise exited you besides your exaggerated breathing and your, frankly, embarrassing loud moans.

“There it is. You're such a fuckin’ slut. My slut. Makin' you feel so good, huh?”

All your senses were heightened. You were on cloud nine and barely even heard what he said besides registering his low, raspy, growling. Daryl was making you a wet, blubbering mess, and he only wished he could see what those eyes looked like rolled in the back of your head. So he resorted to the voice again. (He figured out about that kink the very first night you spent with each other. “You're really obvious, y'know that?”)

“Use ya words, bitch. Are you mah slut ere not?” Daryl spoke lowly but with assertion, his accent becoming more and more noticeable.

“Yes! Yes! Oh fuck, yes!” You responded emphatically, not only answering his question, but letting him know how good he's making you feel. 

“You gonna cum all over this cock for me, sunshine?”

“Fuck, yes. Yes, I will. Oh fuck…” You're surprised you even answered his question with the state you were in, but you did, albeit breathlessly. Daryl chuckled and put a bit more pressure on your throat, moving up to the middle this time. 

The knot in your lower stomach got tighter and tighter, and with a couple thrusts to your sweet spot while rasping sweet nothings in your ear, you saw white, feeling your cunt drip with Daryl's cum down onto your thighs and roll down onto his. You almost collapsed forward, but you felt a pair of strong arms grip your midsection before throwing the knife away from the two of you with a flick of his wrist.

Daryl placed gentle kisses on the side of your neck and then your temple. He hugged you from behind, his cock still buried within you.

“Hey Dar?” He slowly eased your back up against his firm chest, making it easier for him to lock eyes with you.

“Hm?” He purred.

~~~~~

“Can you do that again sometime?” You asked softly in between trying to catch your breath. He chuckled once again and punctuated it with a sweet, open-mouthed kiss to the lips.

“Hell yeah, I will.”

God. I NEED HIM.

[musings-of-a-rose]

Weighted Blanket

Pairing: Will Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 860+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story. 

Notes: Chatting about what a great weighted blanket this man would make and so I dedicate this to @laurfilijames. This was not beta read.

**If you want to be added to the taglist, join here or let me know!

❤If you enjoy the fic, please consider giving me a warm beverage! (It is not required in any way!)

→Tell Tumblr this should be shared with others by reblogging! That's what the algorithm loves (it's how it works here. I don't make the rules!)

**Reader is not described

Main Masterlist

Will Miller Masterlist

Today had been the day from hell. You knew it would be, especially since you’d been out for several days being sick. Morning meetings ran long, everyone scrambling to prepare to open, and then the patients? Don’t even get me started. 

When I finally get into my car at the end of the day, I turn on the ac and rest my head against the headrest taking several deep breaths, just listening to the vents pumping cool air into my hot car. I just have to make it home. A shower is waiting for me and Will should be home today.

Will. 

My amazing boyfriend of a year and a half. Will had to go away for work for a few days and was finally coming home. I know a few days isn’t that long but it killed him to leave me when I was sick. And to be honest, I hated not having him there, sick or not. 

His truck is in the parking lot when I pull in and I smile knowing he’s upstairs. I hurry to our apartment and push my key in the lock, quickly shedding my shoes and tossing my bag down on the little side table before heading towards the kitchen, where sounds and a delicious, heavenly smell were emanating from. I lean against the door frame, just taking in the sight of him. Will, standing at the stove with his back to me, casually making my favorite food, his hair still wet from a shower, navy blue shirt stretched thin over his broad back and thick arms, grey sweatpants hung low on his hips. He clicks off the burner and divvy’s the food onto 2 plates before turning, his face lighting up when he sees me.

“Hey, sweetheart. How was work?” When I don’t answer right away, he let’s out a low whistle. “That bad, huh?”

I nod, pushing off the door frame. “Nothing I didn’t anticipate. Still sucked though.”

“You hungry?”

“Starving. But first I need to shower. I feel so gross.”

Will sets the plates down and takes a few large steps towards me. He moves for a hug and damn do I want one, but I’m gross. People actually spit up on me today. So I sigh, stepping back and Will puts his hands up, freezing in place. 

“Must have been really bad.”

“You don’t even want to know.”

He winks and blows a kiss at me, turning back to finish up dinner. The shower was glorious, the hot water and bubbles relaxing me somewhat, and washing away all of the gross from my skin and hair. I don’t linger, my stomach grumbling as I pull on some pajamas and head straight for the kitchen table, where Will had just set down drinks for us. Before I sit, he pulls me to him, pressing a soft kiss to my lips, his hands cradling my face. 

“I missed you, sweetheart.”

“I really missed you too, Will.” He starts to deepen the kiss, but is interrupted by the loudest grumble yet from my traitor of a stomach. He laughs, placing a hand on my tummy. 

“Let’s get some food in you.”

—----

Dinner was delicious, as usual when Will cooks. It’s not just that he follows the recipe to a t, but he has his own personal flair to it. Will’s cooking can make any sour mood turn sweet. Or maybe that’s just me. 

After our bellies are full, we sit on the couch and I curl my body against his, feeling his large arm wrap around me, the warmth from him seeping into my bones. He kisses the top of my head and rests his own there, both of us content to just be with the other. But my day was hard and before long, I feel my eyelids drooping. Will must have noticed because I swear I blinked and somehow ended up in bed, Will pulling the blankets up around me before crawling in next to me. He tries to pull me to him, but it’s not what I need. He crooks his finger under my chin, lifting my head to look at him through sleepy eyes. 

“Do you need Will blanket?” I nod, my eyes barely open. 

Will helps me lay down on my back, making sure my pillow is adjusted before he drapes half his body over mine, linking one of his muscular legs with mine as he tucks himself over me. His arm drapes over my body, rubbing small circles into my opposite arm. I turn my head and realize my nose is in the perfect spot to nuzzle into his hair, so I do it, inhaling the scent of him. The weight of him on me settles my nerves, the last bit of overstimulation and wired emotions leeching from my body the longer I feel his breathing, his body pressing into mine. 

“I love you, sweetheart.”

“I love you too.”

It’s so tender and loving, full of care and I think about how much I love this man as he gently lulls me to sleep.

In the morning, he has different plans for me and I’m so glad I got the rest I needed.

—----

General Taglist:

@frankie-catfish-morales @chaoticgeminate @janebby @astoryisaloveaffair @balekanemohafe @greeneyedblondie44 @hoeforthefictional @marvelousmermaid @hauntedmama @giuliarogers @icanbeyourjedi @wretchedmo @sunnshineeexoxo @livingmydreams13 @adventures-of-a-noodle @sara-alonso @theewokingdead @punkerthanpascal @giggly-otter @f0rever15elf @phandoz @dirtytissuebox @gallowsjoker @lovesbiggerthanpride @sarahmilesbendrix @booksarekindaneat @mrsudontknowme @swol-bear @charlispersonallyhell @xoxabs88xox @amneris21 @gooddaykate @alindeluce @avengers-fixation @paintballkid711 @harriedandharassed   @ladykatakuri @marrianena  @practicalghost @withakindheartx @batdarkladyvampir @justanotherkpopstanlol   @mermaidxatxheart @alexxavicry @ichigodjarin @justreblogginfics @sullyosully @kmc1989 @veryprairieberry @mysterious-moonstruck-musings

[springwitch26]

hots for teacher (melissa schemmenti x fem!reader)

part 2

summary: you've been infatuated with melissa schemmenti ever since you worked under her as a student teacher. what will happen when you meet again a few years later?

warnings: NSFW content, implied future smut (part 2 on the way??), praise kink, age gap idk

notes: hi everyone! my name is april, and this is my first ever fanfiction. i wrote this for fun and then decided to share it with the community, because i love the little gay women in my phone! i've been reading fics on tumblr for as long as i've been on the internet, so this is a strange experience for me. anyway, enjoy, and let me know what you guys think!

tonight you looked sexy, and you knew it. you wore a sinfully short black dress with colorful butterflies. it was one of your favorites; it showed just the right amount and hugged just the right places to be tantalizing. your eyes were painted with thin black wings and soft, glittery eyeshadow that made you look like a sweet dream. your lips glistened and your hair was tied up in two dutch braids. you were a vision.

all this meant that you were not the least bit surprised when a deep, sultry female voice sounded from behind where you sat at the bar.

"it should be illegal to look like that in public."

you smiled coyly and turned around to face the stranger.

"why? see something you like?" when you turned to face her, however, you were met with a familiar face. it was a face you'd seen in your dreams time after time: your former boss, melissa schemmenti.

you had been assigned to work with melissa as a student teacher while you were in school for your teaching certification. at the time, she was teaching two grades simultaneously, so she was grateful to have you there to ease the burden. it didn't hurt that you were always so eager to please. you wanted to learn and become the best teacher you could be.

of course, your motives weren't entirely pure. you were attracted to melissa from the moment you saw her. you remembered it like it was yesterday: her flaming red hair was slightly messy from trying to wrangle her double class, and her glasses sat askew on her nose. then you came along and turned everything around. she would give you to-do lists, and you would finish them before lunchtime the same day.

"great job, hon! you're so good, don't know what i'd do without you..." she'd say each time, beaming with pride at her new prodigee.

"o-of course, ms. schemmenti. what else can i do for you?" you'd respond, blushing profusely at the praise and struggling to hold her intense gaze.

within a week of having you, melissa was caught up on all her work. she couldn't help but feel like you were an angel, or some kind of gift from god. whatever you were, she cherished you. as the two of you spent more time together, she started to want you more and more. every project, every conversation, every smile you two shared only added to your chemistry.

she had fun with it--teasing you with special pet names and praise, watching you get all flustered and squirmy. she knew you liked her back. you weren't the most subtle about your desire.

melissa would never act on her feelings, though. you were a doe-eyed twenty-something with big dreams, and she was your much older boss. getting involved with you would be too messy. but she always held out hope, even after you left abbott, that one day you'd meet again.

you studied melissa's sly smirk for a moment, in disbelief at your luck. it had been two years since you left abbott. you had your own big girl job now, and you were a bit more mature. there was nothing stopping you from acting on your desires.

"oh my god, ms. schemmenti! please, have a drink with me. it's been a while." you hoped you didn't sound too desperate, although you definitely looked desperate once you got a good glance at her.

her look was striking. your breath hitched in your throat as you scanned her form, dressed in red leather pants and a button-down shirt. her arms were visibly muscled, even through the jacket. the black button-down shirt she wore was unbuttoned just enough to tease her cleavage. around her waist was a thick black belt that you wanted to pull on. her fiery hair was tied back haphazardly in a high ponytail, just messy enough to be sexy. and her hands—god, her fingers were long and ringed and—

"whatever you say, kid," she shrugged and sat down next to you, giving you a playful smile. "and you can call me melissa now."

she had a mischievous glint in her eye, probably knowing how you felt just by the wanton way you stared at her. when she sat down beside you, you felt your whole body heat up. your thighs were almost touching from the proximity, and you could smell her intoxicating perfume with each inhale. feeling her body so close to yours had you more drunk than the alcohol. it didn't help that her eyes now roamed over your body shamelessly, taking in your glistening lips and lingering on your soft cleavage. you tried your best to play it cool.

you talked for a while, catching up on everything. you told her about your new job at a suburban elementary school, your volunteer tutoring on the weekends, your summers in the mountains. she beamed with pride hearing of your accomplishments.

"that's great, y/n! sounds like you're goin' places."

"thank you! i think i owe a lot of my success to my student teaching experience—everyone at abbott was great, including you. especially you," you looked at her with an intense gaze, feeling your desire catch up with you.

"you were such a passionate mentor. you just had this way of getting me excited..." you trailed off as you fixated on the stirrings of a smirk on her face.

"...excited about learning," you finished shakily.

"mm-hmm," she chuckled.

maybe it was the alcohol, or the simple fact that she was right next to you and seemingly devouring you with her eyes, but you became bolder then. you only had one shot at this.

"i mean, you really touched me in a way that nobody else could," you leaned in, dragging out your syllables for emphasis. "i worked so hard because i just needed to be good for you."

now she was the one shuddering. you had the upper hand, if only for a moment. but she quickly got her boldness back.

"i noticed that. always so bright and attentive. i bragged to all the other teachers about what a good girl you were." to top it all off, she punctuated her sentence by placing her hand firmly on your knee.

you thought you were going to explode right then and there. your skin erupted in goosebumps at her touch, and you spread your legs ever so slightly to indicate your consent. her face split into a smug grin and she began to crawl her fingers up your thigh, agonizingly slowly.

your response came as a shaky whisper. you were sure you must have soaked through your panties just from her teasing touches.

"it's good to know that you thought so highly of me. i looked up to you a lot," you said sheepishly. "um, i'm a bit embarrassed to admit it, but i did have a bit of a crush on you..."

"oh, yeah. that doesn't surprise me. don't be embarrassed, hon. you can't help what you feel," her hand had stalled at the midpoint of your thigh, and she looked at you with sincerity.

"it doesn't surprise you?" you asked, struggling to get the words out once she resumed stroking your thigh.

"i had my suspicions," she said with a knowing smirk. "i'm sharper than i look, ya know."

her darkened eyes sent shivers down your spine. you felt your core heat up at the humiliation of knowing she knew exactly what you thought about her.

"am i that obvious?" you asked, somewhat breathily.

"oh, sweetheart," she laughed. she leaned in close and you could smell her perfume, feel the warmth of her breath on your skin. her fingers pinched the skin of your thigh as she whispered to you. "you sat five feet away from me for months, always wearin' those little black skirts. you think i didn't see you rub your thighs together every time i gave you praise?"

her hand now caressed your inner thigh softly, teasingly. you failed to respond, trying to process her words but finding yourself unable to do anything but whimper almost silently.

"so soft here. mhmm," she husked into your ear. there was a hint of giddiness in her voice, as if she was pleased with herself for taking you apart so easily. "does that feel good, princess? do you like it when i touch you?"

"yes!" you said, almost too loudly for the public setting. "yes, i like it very much."

"good," she whispered as her fingers found the edge of your panties. your thighs spread even wider, and you let out a small gasp.

"we've got lots more to catch up on, don't we?" she continued, her fingers drawing feather-light circles over your clit through the fabric. you wondered if she could feel you throbbing for her. your hips bucked up to meet her hand, and she slapped your thigh in warning. "if you wanna keep talkin', we can head back to mine..."

you turned to her with big, glazed-over eyes. still whimpering, you nodded rapidly, earning a laugh from the older woman. she grabbed your hand and guided you out of the packed bar.

"i'm gonna wreck you, hon," she mumbled without looking back at you.

[aethelwyneleigh27]

Cod Characters General Dating Headcanons (part two)

+ Random and Some bits of Chubby Fem S/O Headcanons with mentions of different nationality S/O

+ What type of BF/GF they would be

Including Valeria Garza, Farah Karim, Kate Laswell, Alex Keller, Gary "Roach" Sanderson, Nikolai Belinski

+ Some Poly! Farah x Reader x Alex Headcanons

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Fem terms and pronouns like she/her are used for the reader

ꕥ HOPE YOU ENJOY! ꕥ

My rules for requests and characters I can write for

Please comment if you want to be added to the taglist, the next part or cod content alone. I also have content for TLOU and Resident Evil, so please specify.

Taglist: @marshmallowinamess

A/n: Hi lovelies! It's me again Lia, currently working on this one while I haven't even posted the other yet because I wanna post early and I love Valeria. Y'all don't got shit on me, I'm writing this shit while I'm in class AHAHAHA. Btw more Resident Evil content soon...

Disclaimers/warnings: Typical Cod things, OOC characters???, Unrealistic, Some suggestive themes and language, I'm so sorry but English is not my first language so please don't come after me. Most of the content I've seen are on TikTok and Tumblr I don't actually play the game but I love the characters so much, same with any other content I have for other video games.

Tiny sidenote: the reader in this has been describe to be shorter than the characters and has been mentioned to have a soft body rather than the muscular type.

Valeria Garza

ꕥ (Just saying, I'd let her step all over me)

ꕥ The El Sinombre falling in love? No shit she's... semi-normal??

ꕥ Black cat/Doberman girlfriend for sure. She's extremely protective and extremely terrifying when she wants to be. Scary dog privilege if you get it. (Occasionally it's funny to imagine her as a Chihuahua)

ꕥ Dates all kinds of women, body type and other things don't matter to her because she doesn't have a type. If you catch her attention then that's that.

ꕥ Loves spoiling you in everyway possible, just sit pretty for her and she'll take care of everything. Doesn't give a shit on the amount of money she spends on you, you want it? You got it.

ꕥ Loves it when you need her, it's one of the ways she feels loved and appreciated. Would never say it out loud but loves it whenever you show her your appreciation by doing manual labor.

ꕥ The idea of you being her pretty little housewife is sending her to heaven.

ꕥ Spanish pet names galore, culture is something of importance to her so will definitely teach you Spanish if she had the time.

ꕥ Would be interested learning about your culture as well because if you're gonna know about hers then she ought to know what to call you in your language. (Definitely not self-indulgent because I'm Filipina and I know she'd pronounce it somewhat correctly)

ꕥ Doesn't ever let you know about her cartel business. You can never know and she will never allow you to get ever get involved. You're too precious to her and god forbid anything will happen to you, she will destroy the world if she had to.

ꕥ She's more of a masc lesbian, she's the type who likes to be in charge in a "I'm the one who wears the pants in the relationship" way. She's very dominant.

ꕥ Doesn't ever even consider to be submissive, with the amount of shit she's been through. She can be vulnerable with you but in no way, shape or form could you ever top.

ꕥ You're an escape from the life she knew, it was peaceful with you. At first she wasn't used to it, definitely has reoccurring thoughts of something going wrong. You dying, getting kidnapped, falling into the hands of her enemies so constant reassurance.

ꕥ Would absolutely kill for you, no hesitation. The literally definitely of "I would burn this world for you", would absolutely deny it but you know otherwise.

Farah Karim

ꕥ Tabby cat coded girlfriend, she's down to earth and chill. She's that one neutral person everyone adores, she puts her best efforts into a relationship for sure.

ꕥ Has and will help you do your make-up all the time, doesn't matter whether you asked. She'll observe the specific way you do it and do it perfectly.

ꕥ Sweetest girlfriend ever, she has dominance tendencies but it's mainly because she's quite assertive and often makes the decisions. Can't help it, after all her field of work requires her to one up egotistic men.

ꕥ That being said, I think she's had some mild PTSD about how they treated her. Sure it made her tough and she didn't like to be bossed around (unlike angry Mexican man) but I like to think she keeps you out of it as much as possible.

ꕥ Chubby!Reader headcanon is that she literally would adore you, compliment anything and everything. Insecure? Not on her watch, she just makes you feel so loved.

ꕥ Most definitely has introduced you to Price (I feel like he's everyone's father figure except los vaqueros and characters he hasn't interacted with) and don't worry he's already looking after you as well.

ꕥ Poly! Farah x reader x Alex headcanons:

ꕥ You guys following whatever Farah says, towards relationship decisions anyway because you and Alex tend to be indecisive.

ꕥ Lot's of communication between the three of you even if it's just a small thing, consent is always key.

ꕥ Alex following his two wives around a lot, he's mostly behind you guys all the time.

ꕥ Farah is patient when it comes to a lot of things but especially you and Alex.

ꕥ You get head pats from both of them, Farah is in a more praising manner while Alex tends to be in a comforting manner.

ꕥ You cannot tell me these two won't be down to cuddle in any position because I know damn well they would be. More often it's just Alex wanting to be a little spoon.

Alex Keller

ꕥ Golden Retriever boyfriend FOR REAL. This man is the type of man to kneel down and clasp the strap of your shoe or heel when he notices it.

ꕥ You know when you pick up something near a corner of a table or underneath it? He's the type of boyfriend to subconsciously cover the edge or corner of that table so that if your head bumps into it then it wouldn't be as painful or even at all.

ꕥ Having said the first one, he also guides your head whenever getting into a vehicle because god forbid you actually hurt yourself. Not on his watch.

ꕥ Understands why you're insecure and definitely offers a lot of verbal reassurance.

ꕥ Is the type of boyfriend to say "Yes Ma'am" when you ask him to do something, doesn't matter whether it's a small thing or labor intensive. It's kinda become your guys' thing now since people take notice on it.

ꕥ Pouty kind of jealous? Not necessarily whiny but makes this sad upset face at you when jealous instead of something like Ghost or Valeria would do where they'd be glaring the person down jealous.

ꕥ Very thoughtful, he pays attention to what you want and what you need and knows the right timing.

ꕥ Forehead kiss giver, you cannot convince me this man doesn't love doing it. Especially when you're shorter than him, loves resting his chin on top of your head or burying his head in your neck.

ꕥ HATES seeing you uncomfortable, absolutely despises it. That's the last thing he wants you to feel when you're around him. Would understand if there's imminent danger around but it would literally being him back to life if you felt safe enough around him even if there was danger because you're confident in his capabilities to keep you safe.

Kate Laswell

ꕥ (LOVE THIS WOMAN, SHE'S FOR THE GIRLS BECAUSE IT'S CANON. ARGUE WITH THE WALL)

ꕥ She only ever let the TF141 and Nikolai meet you because of course she trusts them enough.

ꕥ They were like "So you're the infamous wife of Laswell huh?"

ꕥ Even before you were married, Kate called you her wife because she was ✨manifesting✨.

ꕥ She loves using it though, sometimes she'd be with coworkers and they'd invited her to go out to pub and drink but she'll refuse saying "Can't, my wife is waiting for me". She'd really rather just spend time with you anyway.

ꕥ Congrats, you made her quit smoking or at least she's trying to. She still does every once and a while when shit gets really bad but never around you because she knows that secondhand smoke is just as bad for you.

ꕥ She doesn't have a type when it comes to people so body is out of the question, if she feels a connection then she feels it.

ꕥ Anything and everything to keep you safe, if something were to happen to you, trust that she'll either get it down herself or if she can't then she'll turn to Price and Belinski for help.

ꕥ As much as possible, she keeps you away from everything. The job she has is just too dangerous and she can't risk you, not when you're one of the only good things in her life that keeps her happy.

ꕥ Definitely a workaholic, something as simple as asking her to eat or rest, maybe take a break. She'll do it, for you and because she knows you care for her.

ꕥ Doesn't half-ass anything, full effort when it comes to you especially when there's a special occasion between you two like holidays, birthdays and anniversaries.

ꕥ Also she loves making you laugh, more often with stories of her experiences with Price and also about how they met.

Gary "Roach" Sanderson

ꕥ (I CANNOT FIND A DECENT GIF OF THIS MAN FOR THE LIFE OF ME... Here's the credits to where I found the photo)

ꕥ Get this man a makeshift antenna, he would adore it. You made it for him because of his call sign.

ꕥ He sometimes wears it on missions but mostly keeps it so that it doesn't get damage because this man is definitely a horder, not in a bad way just anything you give to him is something worth keeping in his eyes.

ꕥ Gary definitely gives you handmade gifts back, when he knows you'll like something or even if it's at a random, he loves making them for you and he cried when he found out you kept those all in it's own box labeling it your treasures.

ꕥ Very shy and reluctant at first but once he's comfortable, he is tackling you for a hug when he gets the chance.

ꕥ Doesn't talk a lot, (it took me to Google when I saw that many people hc him communicating through BSL) but I like to think he does talk. It's just really selective, like a few words.

ꕥ The first time you heard his voice, you looked at him like "???". He looked at you confused at your reaction and he only realized it when you told him.

ꕥ Think that he'll try to learn sign language within your mother tongue you know, it's too cute not to think about.

ꕥ He gives off soft lover vibes, definitely far more on the gentle side compared to his comrades.

ꕥ Something in me tells me this man rambles but only and I mean only when he's already extremely comfortable around you, not used to using his voice much so expect a bit of stutter. Which by the way, he does this without knowing he's rambling and will profusely apologize with his tone of voice slowly getting more quiet. (This is your sign, comfort this man)

ꕥ Likes to crawl around and climb things for fun, another one of the reasons his call sign was formed. The first time Ghost genuinely screamed was when Roach was stuck on the side of the wall and Ghost saw him there. Kinda like when you see a roach climbing up a wall and it flies straight for you in your direction. (Happened to me by experience when I was taking a shower)

ꕥ He also likes crawling around, like this I mean. Hacker!Reader seeing this on the enemy's security camera while she tries to shut them off is just funny to me idk why.

ꕥ Chubby!Reader? Sign him the fuck up. You once sat down near him and he saw how you thought spread a bit and it was so close to his that he was just resisting the urge to touch. The voice in his head shamelessly thinking of what it would be like if you suffocated him with them.

ꕥ He loves peppering kisses, doesn't matter whether it's receiving or giving this man would straight up take your hands and use them to cup his face, his hands still being over yours and would with wait for you to kiss him or kiss you himself.

Nikolai Belinski

ꕥ (I have no clue how to write for nik but I'll try my best)

ꕥ We all know him and his jokes about his "wives" which by the way is not true and you know it.

ꕥ He's husband material however he is quite busy, not that he'd barely spend time with you but he is away a lot. There's an upside to this, he constantly calls you (Let's be real, he prefers calls over texts) just to check on how you're doing and he tells you when he's going to come home.

ꕥ Despite all his jokes, he'd never actually make fun of you. Sure he's sarcastic and talks to himself a lot but he'd never go as low as actually making an offensive joke to his lover.

ꕥ Speaking of joking, your laugh is music to this man's ears. Don't matter if you sound like a dying cat, he's still gonna make you laugh.

ꕥ Surprisingly really sweet, people are often surprised to see that man with a lover. He's very thoughtful in a sense that he's observant, sure he's quite absentminded when around you because that's the only space he's comfortable enough to do so but also because he likes listening to you.

ꕥ Does every safety measure in a helicopter possible if he knew you or Gaz would be in that helicopter, he also makes improvements to it and calls it Gaz-proofing because we all know how Garrick fell off a damn helicopter TWICE. (Idk how he does it, Gaz has some serious plot armor)

[katy-l-wood]

Let's talk cover art!

Firstly, here is the first official look at the full jacket for my new book!

Camp Daze has had a really wandering path to publication, which I'll talk more about later, but back when I still didn't know what I wanted to do with it exactly, I got this crystal clear image of what I wanted the cover to look like. So I created that cover, just the front cover at the time, as more of a portfolio piece than anything. But even though it was meant to just be a portfolio piece, I loved it so damn much, and it stuck in my head hard. When I did finally decide to self publish the book, I knew I had to use this cover.

Usually, I go through a lot more iterations for my covers when it comes time to finally publish things, but this one has just stuck with me over the years as I tried to bring this novel out into the world. Back in 2023 some of you may remember I tested another cover featuring two of the main characters, and did some tumblr polls to see what people liked most, and the tent cover won by a LANDSLIDE each time. (That other cover, or the art from it anyway, will still be available other ways! Just not as THE cover for the book.)

I think the very stark, simplistic nature of the cover fits the themes of the book really well. It's do or die and all they've got is the resources in their camp--represented by the tent, the resources of the wilderness--represented by the mountains/forest, and the looming/hovering threat of a nuclear war that they don't actually know that much about. When it came time to create the full wraparound version of the cover, I added in a little archery target on the back cover because archery plays a major roll in their survival as well.

Colors wise, everything was built around the green tents. The tents are based off of the ones at my own childhood summer camp, and they play a big roll in how the camp manages to create better shelter for themselves. I think found a purple that worked well with the green because, well, they're in Colorado and "purple mountains majesty" and all that. Then it was just filling in other areas with colors that fit within the scheme. I kept everything a little more muted mostly because I just like more muted color schemes.

For the back cover I picked a few lines from the book that, I think, capture the overall vibe of the book which is "if we try, we MIGHT die, but if we DON'T try then we WILL die, so we may as well try."

And shoutout to @gallusrostromegalus for helping me write a new author bio while I was flailing around in the discord chat having a minor identity crisis, lol. The new bio kicks ass, even in this shortened version.

Something that is very important to me is to make sure cover artists are always credited, so I do have a credit for that under my author bio even though my cover artist is also, ya know, me. Just trying to set precedent so more people will start doing things like that.

So yeah! That's how this cover came together. I think it's one of my favorite covers I've ever done.

You can back the Kickstarter here to get your own special edition copy of this book!

[genshinluvr]

Mr. Sweet Talker

Pairings: Various Genshin Men x Isekai'd!Reader (Lyney x Isekai's!Reader)

Summary: Aether and Paimon managed to snag free tickets to the magic show in Fontaine! It's all thanks to a certain famous Fontianian magician. Who knew he could be such a sweet talker?

Note: Since I took a break from posting fanfics last week, this is a mini-fic, so not a lot of men will be talking in this fic since this mini-fic does center around Lyney. If you're wondering if I'm going to add him to the harem or not, the answer is idk. I know, for sure, that I'm not going to be adding Freminet to the harem. I don't mind adding Lyney to the harem, but I have a feeling there are going to be people in my inbox telling me he's a minor— and debating over Genshin character's ages is something I do not want to deal with. Anyway! I don't post anywhere else but on Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and on AO3 (Aaliah_exo).

Warnings: None that I know of 🤔

Word Count: 3.3k

Your groans fill the living area as you plop on the couch, sprawling across Wriothesley and Pantalone’s lap. The two men glance at each other before looking at you. You roll over on your back and stare up at Wriothesley and Pantalone with a pout.

Pantalone runs his fingers through your hair. “What’s wrong, Butterfly?” Pantalone coos, stroking your cheek with his thumb.

“I thought summer break was going to be fun, but all I did was sleep in! There are a few weeks until school is back in session at the Akademiya. But I don’t want to return to the Akademiya, telling my professors and classmates that all I ever did during the summer was sleep in,” you say, puckering your lips.

“What else did you do during the summer? Aside from being in my arms, of course,” Wriothesley says, running his hands through his hair with a cheeky smile.

No, really. What else did you do during the summer? Summer is a blur at this point, and the only thing you remember was taking many, many naps. In fact, you slept so much during the summer that your sleep schedule is even worse than it already is. You can say you have traveled to many regions in Teyvat. After all, your boyfriends are from different nations, and you sometimes tag along with them while they work. So, you job shadowed your boyfriends sometimes? 

The door to the estate slams open, startling you, Wriothesley, and Pantalone. Aether and Paimon enter the large estate— Paimon looks smug while Aether is wringing the water out of his hair with a grimace. You and Paimon lock gaze before she waves at you with a big smile.

“[Y/N]! Do you want to go to a magic show with us?” Paimon asks, floating over toward you.

You prop yourself up, accidentally digging your elbows into Wriothesley’s thighs. If it did hurt Wriothesley, he didn’t let it show on his face. Instead, the man looks at Paimon and Aether curiously. Magic show? With all of the things that exist on Teyvat, you’re sort of surprised that magic still exists despite there being Archons, dragons, and mythical creatures roaming and inhabiting Teyat.

“Depends! Who is ‘us’ exactly? You and Aether, or everyone in the abode?” you ask, sitting up and getting off Wriothesley and Pantalone. “And where is this magic show going to take place?”

Aether holds his hands up. “Whoa, slow down with the questions there, [Y/N]. The magic show is going to take place in Fontaine,” Aether says.

Your eyes light up. “Fontaine? I’ve always wanted to explore the City of Justice more often! Furina invited me to be a witness at one of the trials, but I wasn’t able to make it,” you say.

Paimon claps her hands, twirling in the air with excitement. “Great! Let’s get ready before the show starts! We know the magician of tonight’s show, and he managed to get us all the best seats in the house!” Paimon says, propping her hands on her hips with a smug smile.

You have no idea what Paimon is implying, but you went along with it anyway. When you were thrown into Teyvat, it was before Sumeru was released. And now, since you’re going to (according to Paimon and Aether) Opera Epiclese, you’re going to assume Fontaine is now released. You have stepped foot in other regions aside from Sumeru, Inazuma, Liyue, and Mondstadt, but it was brief.

You’re not sure what people typically wear to the Opera Epiclese. Since the citizens of Fontaine dress elegantly on a day-to-day basis, you opted to wear something classy. It’s the best thing you can find that isn’t too formal or too underdressed. The trip to Fontaine was fun— aside from the Meks attacking when you and the men accidentally used the wrong waypoint. But it’s fine because no one got hurt, not a single hair is out of place, and everyone’s clothes are spotless and creaseless. While the seating is free (all thanks to Paimon and Aether knowing the magician of the show), you weren’t sure where you wanted to sit. You don’t mind sitting in the first row or the second row. The main issue is the men fighting over who gets to sit next to you.

“I want to sit next to [Y/N] during the show,” Venti huffs, glaring at Albedo.

Albedo sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Well, if [Y/N] sits between us, then we don’t need to argue over who gets to sit next to [Y/N],” replies Albedo.

You plop on the chair, resting your elbow on the armrest while the men around you argue. You don’t care where you sit. The only thing you probably care about is being able to watch the magic show without any interruptions. And you’re also hoping the magician isn’t going to ask for volunteers or randomly pick someone from the audience for one part of the show. You don’t know how you’re going to react if it did happen.

“Oh? What’s going on here?” asks a suave voice. 

The men stop bickering around you and turn toward the direction of the voice. You peek from behind Capitano to see a shorter male, around Xiao’s height, approaching you and your boyfriends. He stops in front of the group, propping his hands on his hips, and adjusts the hat on his head. On his right cheek is a single teardrop, and he has a braid on the left side of his head. His hair is almost the same color as Kazuha’s hair.

Paimon perks up, waving to the male. “Lyney! It’s good to see you!” Paimon cheers.

Lyney smiles at Paimon and graciously bows to Paimon.

“Lyney! Good luck with your performance! We look forward to seeing you perform and wow the audience,” says Neuvillette, smiling at the shorter male before him.

Lyney’s eyes light up, and he smiles widely. “Thank you, Monsieur Neuvillette!” Lyney says.

Lyney looks at the others around him, and his eyes land on you. You’re fixing your shirt, making sure there isn’t any lint sticking to your silk shirt. You tuck your hair behind your ear before continuing to adjust your clothes.

“And who is this? I don’t believe we’ve met,” Lyney speaks up.

You look up to see Lyney standing before you, gazing at you curiously. You blink at the Fontainian magician owlishly and look around at the others, assuming he is talking to the men that aren’t from Fontaine. 

Lyney laughs softly, shaking his head. “I’m talking to you, silly. You’re a fresh face around here, and I want to know my guest’s name before the show starts,” says Lyney.

“Oh! I thought you meant the others that aren’t natives to Fontaine aside from myself,” you laugh shyly, rubbing the back of your neck as you stand up to properly greet the Fontainian magician. “My name’s [Y/N]! It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lyney.” 

You hold your hand out to shake Lyney’s hand. Lyney bows gracefully, grabs your hand, and presses a delicate kiss on your knuckles. You stare at Lyney with wide eyes, heat rushing to your cheeks as you begin to stutter. Scaramouche narrows his eyes at Lyney and is at your side almost immediately, wrapping his arms around your waist and walking away with you.

“I don’t like it when other people show affection toward you,” Scaramouche mutters.

You and Scaramouche end up bumping into someone. Scaramouche looks to see Lyney standing there, his hands propped on his hips as he gazes at you and Scaramouche with a small amused smile. Scaramouche does a double take and turns to where Lyney was standing before he and you bump into the Fontainian magician.

Lyney points at your ear. “You have something in your hair,” Lyney murmurs.

Your eyes widen, and you begin feeling around your hair, searching for the supposed object in your hair Lyney’s referring to. After a few seconds of searching around, you look at Lyney, confused. Lyney smiles and steps toward you, tucking your hair behind your ear. You stare at Lyney with wide eyes.

Lyney glances at you for a second before looking at the side of your head, humming softly. “Oh! I think I found it!” Lyney says. 

You sigh in relief and see Lyney hold out a rose toward you. 

“A rose for someone as beautiful as you. The rainbow rose is beautiful, but it pales in comparison to your beauty,” says Lyney, his cheeks turning bright pink. 

Your eyes widen, and you grab the rose from Lyney’s hand. Lyney smiles and takes a step back, fixing his hat while ignoring the subtle (and some not-so-subtle) glares from the men around you two. You admire the beautiful flower native to Fontaine, lightly rubbing the rose petal between your thumb and index finger.

“Aside from the glaze lily, the rainbow rose is beautiful,” you murmur.

Lyney smiles, places his index and middle finger underneath your chin, and tilts your head up. “Both are beautiful flowers, but they’re not nearly as beautiful as you, my flower,” Lyney says, winking at you.

You gulp and stare at Lyney, cheeks ablaze. Who knew that the Fontainian magician was a sweet talker. Childe lets out a fake laugh as he slowly walks over to you and Lyney, draping his arms over your shoulders while standing tall. Lyney crosses his arms over his chest, looking at the irritated eleventh Harbinger with an amused look.

Childe pats your head. “I don’t know if you’re aware or not, but [Y/N] is my significant other. My snookums is taken,” Childe says, pulling you to his chest while glaring at the Fontainian magician. 

Lyney laughs. “Well, your partner is quite a beauty. You might want to hold onto them tightly, or else someone is going to snatch them up,” Lyney jokes, taking his hat off and twirling them on the tip of his finger. “And Snookums is their nickname? How adorable, but a little bit too common.”

Dainsleif raises his eyebrows at Lyney’s comment while Childe lets out another fake laugh, hugging you to his chest tightly. You pat Childe’s back, trying your best not to let the ginger Harbinger crush you against his chest. You don’t mind it, but at least not in front of Fontaine’s famous magician.

Dainsleif crosses his arms over his chest. “And what nickname would you give them if they were your significant other?” Dainsleif asks.

Itto coughs. “Uh, Dainsleif, my guy, I don’t think we should give the magician guy permission to give our onikabuto booboo bear nicknames…” Itto trails off, tapping his foot on the ground. 

An amused look flashes across Lyney’s face after hearing Itto’s comment. Lyney hums and strokes his chin while gazing at you intently. Your face heats up the more the Fontainian magician stares at you. Childe rests his chin beside your shoulders, glaring at the shorter male. Lyney snickers and shakes his head. 

“Onikabuto booboo bear is certainly an interesting pet name for your significant other. It’s more unique than snookums, that’s for sure. However, it’s too much of a mouthful, and I believe someone as lovely as [Y/N] deserves something sweet and simple,” Lyney says, shrugging his shoulders. 

You look around the Opera Epiclese, searching for a clock. You just want the show to start already. You don’t think you have the patience to deal with multiple people debating over nicknames given to you. 

Ayato crosses his arms over his chest, looking at Lyney curiously. “And what is that?” Ayato asks.

Lyney smiles and grabs your hand, kissing your knuckles again. “Mon amour, have I ever told you how beautiful you look under the lights of the Opera Epiclese?” Lyney purrs, looking up at you through his thick eyelashes. 

“Huh!? Mon amour!? That’s just ‘my love,’ but in another language!” Kaveh exclaims, propping one hand on his hip while leaning on one leg.

Cyno yawns. “And you say the previous nicknames aren’t creative? I would say the same for you,” Cyno mutters nonchalantly.

Lyney releases your hand and sighs softly. “While the nickname is common, I believe it sounds better and more endearing in another language,” Lyney says proudly.

Tighnari huffs and leans to Albedo, whispering, “I find it ironic how he doesn’t like the nicknames Childe and Itto had given [Y/N] when the nickname he gave [Y/N] falls in the same category.”

Albedo chuckles and shakes his head. You sigh and close your eyes, mentally praying to the Hydro Archon to start the magic show already so you don’t have to be caught in the middle of whatever is going on right now. As if the Archon has heard your prayers, the doors to the Opera Epiclese open, and audience members gradually start trickling into the room. Lyney sighs, turning to look at the men around you.

“This is my cue to prepare for the show. I hope you all enjoy the show!” Lyney says, smiling at everyone before turning to look at you. “I hope you’ll cheer for me as I perform, mon amour,” Lyney adds, winking at you before walking to the back of the stage when Lynette gestures for him to get his butt backstage.

You sigh, puffing your cheeks out before sitting down. The men grumble as they begin taking their seats, no longer arguing over who's going to be sitting beside you during the show. The magic show was almost two hours long— the overall show was entertaining, and you could see why Lyney is such a popular magician in Fontaine. He’s charming and witty. He knows how to put people on the edge of their seats, wanting to see more of the magic tricks up his sleeves.

Lights suddenly shine on you, startling you out of your thoughts. You look around cluelessly while the audience stares holes into your body. You clear your throat and look at the stage, only to see that Lynette’s the only person standing on stage while her brother, the star of the show, is nowhere to be seen. 

“Huh?” You look around, searching for the Fontainian magician.

Hands cover your eyes, causing you to place your hands over the person’s hands. You hear shuffling from behind you.

The person whispers, “How much do you trust me?”

You space out. How much do you trust this person behind you? You know it’s Lyney. Who else would it be? You decide to go along with it and see where it goes from there. It’s part of his magic trick, and you wonder what he has in store for you and the audience.

You press your lips into a thin line. “I trust you a decent amount,” you reply.

“Do you trust me?” Lyney asks.

You nod slowly. “Yeah, I trust you,”

Lyney smiles and continues to cover your eyes. “Wonderful! Now, please stand up for me.”

You furrow your eyebrows with confusion but continue to do what he says. You hear more shuffling around you. You didn’t know what you were expecting, but when Lyney pulls his hands away from your eyes and tells you to open your eyes, you find yourself in another room. You’re still in the opera house, but you’re not in the audience.

You look at Lyney. “Where are we?” You ask.

“We’re backstage! However, I would like for you to do something for me,” Lyney says, walking toward the wooden box and gesturing to it.

You point at the box, raising your eyebrows at Lyney. “You want me to go in the box and do what exactly?” You ask. “I’ll have you know, I’m not a magician or an assistant to a magician.”

“It’s a surprise,” Lyney says, winking at you.

You get into the box and watch the other assistants close the box. You press your back against the box, feeling the box getting wheeled away somewhere. You trust Lyney despite meeting him not long ago before the performance. You hear the faint chattering of the audience and Lyney’s muffled voice from outside the box. 

You were so distracted with trying to hear what Lyney was saying to the audience when the box was suddenly airborne. Your heart sinks into your chest, your stomach drops, and you close your eyes, bracing for impact. Whatever trick Lyney has up his sleeves, you trust him. You’re going to be okay, and you’re not going to get hurt. 

Right?

The box opens, and Lyney peeks into the box, gazing at you. You stare at Lyney, confused. Lyney holds his hands out for you to take. You grab his hands and step out of the box. You thought the box was falling from a great distance, but you were wrong. One minute you assume you’re freefalling in a box, and now you find yourself standing on a platform beside Lyney. 

Huh? What just happened?

“Why do you look confused?” Lyney teases, poking your cheeks.

You shake your head. “I have so many questions,” you mutter.

Lyney hands you a rainbow rose from thin air, giving them to you. You grab the flower and look at the audience, still confused about what happened. As much as you wanted to ask Lyney how you went from being in the audience to being on stage beside Lyney as his “volunteer assistant,” you have an inkling feeling Lyney is going to tell you the same thing. “A magician never reveals his secrets.”

Lyney laughs, twirling you around in front of the audience before having you face him. You blink rapidly, feeling the dizziness hit you. Lyney pinches your cheek and waves at the audience as they all begin to leave while the men get up from their seats and start walking over toward the stage. Lyney wraps his arms around your waist and jumps off the platform.

“You didn’t inform me about this stunt, Lyney,” Lynette says, propping her hands on her hips while glaring at her brother.

Lyney releases you, and you fix your clothes, sighing in relief when your feet touch the ground. Lyney rubs the back of his neck, laughing shyly. 

“Lynette, I sometimes bring volunteers to the stage, remember?” Lyney reminds Lynette. “What? Don’t tell me you’re jealous,” Lyney teases, poking his sister’s cheek with a shit-eating grin.

Lynette rolls her eyes and lightly smacks Lyney’s hands from her face. You sit at the edge of the stage, blanking out. You’re not sure if you have brain fog or if Lyney is such a charmer that he can get you in many situations without noticing the warnings. You rub your temples and close your eyes, sighing. Your mind is all over the place— you can’t think straight. Someone stops beside you and sits next to you at the edge of the stage. You look to see Wriothesley and Neuvillette. 

“Did I happen to space out the entire time during the show? I can’t help but feel like I missed out on a lot of things,” you say.

Neuvillette smiles and tucks your hair behind your ears. “Well, Lyney did ask for volunteers for the last part of the show, and you happen to volunteer,” replies Neuvillette.

Well, this is news to you.

You hug your knees to your chest and rest your chin on your knees. “That’s odd. I don’t remember volunteering,” you mumble.

Kaeya laughs from behind you, squatting behind you, and ruffles your hair. “Maybe you didn’t notice because he’s a sweet talker who managed to enchant you with his words,” Kaeya says, pinching your cheeks.

Gorou laughs nervously. “I would be careful if I were you. It seems like his sister isn’t too pleased about him giving you that rainbow rose,” Gorou says, peeking over his shoulders.

You shrug your shoulders and rest your head on Neuvillette’s shoulders, twirling the rainbow rose around by the stem. Unbeknownst to you, Lyney doesn’t plan on stopping wooing you anytime soon. As long as he (and the others) get to see the pretty smile on your face, Lyney doesn’t want to stop sweet talking you.

Note: Not sure how I feel about this mini-fic.... anyway, depending on how high demand Lyney is and if he's an adult (or at least a young adult above the age of 19), I will add him to the harem. Other than that, he and his little brother will make appearances in fics here and there, depending on what the fic is about. Freminet is not going to be added to the harem, in case anyone is wondering. Since there is a hurricane headed toward my state, I don't know how the future of this upcoming fanfic is going to turn out. I'm just hoping the power doesn't go out and that everything will be fine. I just want to write fanfics and post them. Anyway, to all my new and returning readers, keep in mind that I ONLY post on my Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and my AO3 (Aaliah_exo)! Nowhere else except Tumblr and AO3!

Taglist for my Isekai'd!Reader one-shot series and my overall taglist: @chirikoheina, @yoru-trash, @kaoyamamegami, @deartoru, @toobytub, @ins4nebish, @bokuto-kinnie, @jadedist, @mompt2, @thelost-in-time, @ventisweetheart, @hispasian-otaku, @juuuuuj101010, @samarill, @testsubject0012, @irisxiel, @kazuhaprnt, @lunarapple, @emilymikado, @vinnie-w, @n8mareee, @heyimkay, @eliciana, @blesstosuisen, @goldeneclipsedragon, @jjvr4yxc, @sovermike-21-blog, @vox34, @skyyyyackerman, @undecidingfate, @nightlysunn, @faeryminnyx, @simpcreator, @lucifarts-boxers, @thelovebuggs, @urlocalheizousimp, @sunlightstarr, @asoulsreverie, @thedarkwinterrose, @soobinsgirlfriend, @inapileofbooke

Read more of my works on my Masterlist / Masterlist 2 | Maybe support me by tipping me on Ko-Fi or by reblogging my fanfics! ^^ I will also be posting exclusive fanfics on Ko-Fi as well very soon! I might post all of my stories on there too, but who knows. You can also tip me on Tumblr if you'd like as a way to show support! ^^

[sunafc]

accidentally in love - 17, single

taglist: @writing-for-the-hell-of-it @gigiiiiislife @phoenix-eclipses @needtoloveoutloud @azharyy @dearneverland @sleepystrwbrryy @oliwiasworlds @iluv-ace @rrosiitas @staygoldsquatchling02 @p4ndawrites @stayyyyyyyyyyyy21 @loveliepa @nnnyxie @iluvaquaphor @juliluvhz @kodzuken-hoe @luvvmae @sunset-venuz

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Right now you are going to the college library, Oikawa offered to help you study for your linguistics exam. He’s right beside you and your fingers brush against each other’s as you walk. This is nice, you think. Over the past few weeks you and Oikawa had spent a lot of time together. It felt natural to be part of each other’s lives. You wanted to introduce him to your friends, as you had just met his own.

Oikawa tugs at your hand, ‘Are you listening to me?’

‘Sorry,’ you look down at your hands, interlaced together, ‘What did you say?’

He smiles softly at you, ‘Do you want to grab dinner together, later?’

Oikawa doesn’t let go of your hand and you come to realize you enjoy that. His skin is really soft. He tugs at you again, noticing you’re getting lost in your thoughts once more.

‘Sure,’ you nod smiling back at him.

He holds the door to the library open for you and then follows you in. You spend a few minutes looking for the books you need before finding a free table.

You chose to study in the library because you knew if you studied at home you would get somehow distracted, though it seems the library isn’t really helping you. You’re finding it very difficult to concentrate when Oikawa is sitting next to you and his thigh presses against yours under the table. You keep reading the same sentence over and over again but the words have no meaning. You can’t stop thinking about how the last couple weeks have felt like dating, rumors even started going around campus about you two. But you don’t need a boyfriend, that’s what you settled on. You let out a deep sigh and read that sentence once more.

Once you’re done reading the chapter Oikawa lends you some flash cards, ‘I made these when I took this exam, I thought maybe they could help you.’

‘Thanks,’ you smile.

He pats your head ‘You seem a little out of it,’ his fingers run through your hair, ‘Are you alright?’

You open your mouth to reply, already thinking of the usual answer Just tired, but you stop when you notice two girls making their way towards your table. Oikawa’s hand in your hair drops to your thigh as he turns to them.

‘Hey,’ one of the girls says, fidgeting with her hands. Oh, you already have a feeling of what is about to happen and the air around you starts feeling really cold.

‘Are you single, Oikawa?’ She finally asks.

He nervously looks at you and you’re not sure how to read his face. He looks back at the girl. Your stomach is in a knot, he is single, you two are not dating. She’s really pretty, too. You don’t want to be there when he answers her, you quickly gather your things under the confused gaze of Oikawa.

His grip on your thigh tightens ‘Y/n?’

You move his hand, ‘Sorry I–’ you get up, ‘I need to go,’ you walk towards the exit without even thinking about making up some excuse. Your heart is racing, your hands are tingling, it’s hard to swallow and you’re feeling anxious, worried, sad... is this jealousy? This is all my fault, you want to be mad at Oikawa but this was really all your doing. You did exactly what you told him not to do so, really, you can only be mad at yourself. You shake your head as your vision starts to get blurry because of the tears forming in the corner of your eyes.

notes:

well well well, if these aren't the consequences of y/n's own actions... ops

anyways!

things will get better next chapter.. maybe😋

for the people who asked to be added to the taglist but don't see their names: tumblr won't let me tag u for some reason so i'm sorry abt that 🙁

previous - masterlist - next

[aclowntiny]

A Date Like No Other- Basketball Player!Mingyu x Female!Reader (College AU)

Inspired by the famous tumblr post 😄 also I’m quite tempted to do a part 2 for this one if anyone is into that hehe

Word Count: 3600 | College AU, Basketball Player!Mingyu, Humor, Fluff | Warnings: drinking mentioned, one suggestive comment, one minor swear

He was the guy on campus everyone would have sold organs to go on a date with. The sports guy. The really tall guy. Handsome, plays on the school team, movie love interest guy.

You were the weird girl hardly anyone talked to, and you just liked him because he drew on your notes with you.

History was boring you- you’d already answered the questions and they read the pages out loud at a snail’s pace, sending your eyes diving into the pages lest you want to rip your hair out and coat your long thin institutional table in it. Saving that, you reached into your backpack and pulled out a green ultra fine marker, popping the cap. You reached over and doodled a frog sitting in his funny little amphibian hunch on one of the multitudinous papers strewn about the table before the guy sitting next to you glanced over, a huge smile spreading across his face before he suppressed laughter.

"I've been frogged!" That, of course, had him almost snorting in aborted amusement.

Wait...did that mean? "Oh, sorry, those were your notes, huh?" You asked in response, hand hitting your head lightly. "I got them mixed up, sorry for defacing your property. I can get you a new sheet if you were going to turn that in-"

"Nah," your neighbor, whose name was Mingyu if you remembered from roll call, held up a hand of both restraint and reassurance, "it's fine! I'm going to keep it. I love him. I think he needs a hat, though."

"Oh, I got it." This time, it was a brown marker you grabbed, quickly outlining and filling in a tiny cowboy hat for your creation. "There we go, how's that?"

This time, a full snort. "He looks handsome to me. What's his name?" Mingyu whispered as your professor drew a tad bit closer.

"Uh, Clint Eastwood?" You shrugged, having not exactly thought that far- in fact, not at all, the whole shindig starting at full zero thoughts, head empty.

"Well, I'll take him with me to every class I have," Mingyu replied, glancing fondly at the doodled frog before taking his pencil and drawing a fly between two pieces of bread, "and feed him, too."

At that, you exhaled a quietened laugh, smiling back as wide as he'd done.

"What? Wouldn't that be what a frog eats?"

You had to admit that it would be.

From that day on, you two added one or two things onto Clint Eastwood's page every class session. He had a top hat at the ready for dressing up, a little garden of flowers, a very badly drawn horse to ride, a soccer ball to play with, and a plate of the takeout Mingyu had just really wanted that day. You didn't even know what his major was. Maybe it was just sports. Could one go to school for simply basketball? Who knew? You guys didn't really talk, just drew and whispered and laughed about your froggy little world. Either way, to your simultaneous amusement and annoyance you found yourself really able to see the hype behind the legendary Kim Mingyu. For all the popularity, he was a good guy. And you know what, he was cute. But, like, heart cute. The face cute was just a bonus.

~

"Hey (y/n), do you ever go to any games? I've never seen you at one," Mingyu mused as you strode out of class, backpacks loose over your shoulders.

"Well," you paused, letting your expression be cut by a half-joking, half-serious wince, "no offense, but I'm not a huge sports person? So I haven't gone because I don't have anyone to go with and it hasn't seemed worth the money. Not because of the game, just because of how much they charge for the ticke-”

"Hey, don’t worry, I get it," he laughed, "well, my little sister could use someone to go with, and the ticket would be on me. I save on buying them for myself because, well, you know."

"You're too busy slamming dunks or whatever it is basketball players do," you supplied.

"Depends on your position," Mingyu just chucklef in response, pushing the big silvery-painted fire exit-esque handle of the history building's double doors open.

"Basketball has positions?" You burst out incredulously, squinting both in confusion and at the onslaught of sunlight assaulting your eyes as you emerged past the threshold.

Another laugh. "Come and find out."

~

The game was made more fun by knowing a player- it gave you something to care about as your eyes followed Mingyu's run along the smooth floors, the way he leapt to toss the ball to some guy just as tall or even taller than him. He really played with passion, passion and a clear sense of fun if his remarks on the court were any indication. His sister was pretty cool, too. She looked like a fashion model straight out of Seoul, but she was fun and sassy, not afraid to tease her big brother about the shot he missed when he ran up and greeted you at the sidelines or shoot a questioning look between you two as you told him to do it for Clint Eastwood, whom Mingyu replied was his good luck charm before shuffling back off on sneakers that squeaked against the floor.

Even though you didn't actually hang out with him the whole time, just at celebratory victory ice cream after, you came to history lecture the next session feeling closer to Mingyu, and he must have felt the same as he started talking to you instantly. You rarely initiated conversation, but always welcomed it.

He thanked you for coming to the game as if he hadn’t paid for it, then asked what your major was. You told him and bounced the question back. Turns out it was business, not sports. That history lecture was just GE you both had to get out of the way. The most interesting history lessons to you weren't generic national history or war maps, but all the odd sideline stuff like how some people believed huffing toilets might have helped them during the Black Plague.

"They what?" Mingyu asked, eyes widening and mouth agape as class commenced.

Maybe that was why people didn't really talk to you.

Such reflection was inaccurate, however, as you mindlessly doodled a ridiculous-looking bug-eyed dog on the now-shared note paper and Mingyu chuckled and gave it a collar, smiling when your glance upward met his eyes.

The moment you rose from your seat after lecture, notebook shoved back into your backpack and pencil case into one of the side water bottle holsters or whatever they were called, Mingyu started talking to you again, this time about how glad he was that he didn't join a fraternity like his teammate Johnny.

"Yeah, because see, this one guy just got so drunk he didn’t know where his car was and his girlfriend lost her nose ring, then another guy was sick and they threw him outside and he woke up in the cold locked out of the house, and the houses stink, too, like they smell so bad…”

"Yeah," you muttered, taking each of your bag straps in your hands this walk, palms sliding over the rough fabric, "dude, you couldn't pay me to live in one of those."

“…they’re practically taking after those Black Plague people!” He joked, bringing a smile to both your faces as he mimed taking a sniff, waving his hands in front of his nose and bursting into laughter.

“Except they should know better,” you added, shaking your head in amusement, “they need to get smart like you and I.”

He didn’t laugh, just nodded in approval. "Right? And everyone there has already hooked up with each other. I'm so tired of all that, too. That's not the kind of date I've been looking for, you know?”

In a sense, you did not know, being that none of your classmates had even hardly made conversation let alone a risqué pass, but you got it. Being as popular as Mingyu was, you’d seen how fellow students threw themselves at him sometimes. Had to get uncomfortable, especially if his facial expression at a few of them said anything. They weren’t usually very original, either, poor guy. He was just a clear end goal, and someone who loved his sister and his little drawings and celebrated with ice cream as often as cocktails and laughed at toilets didn’t deserve that. Mingyu wasn’t an ideal, he was a real person. Someone who just needed to have some damn fun for once.

“Sure. You need some- no, you deserve some- creativity. If it was up to me, I’d take you on a date like no other,” you joked, chuckling as your gaze rose back up to his eyes.

“You would?” At the sight of Mingyu’s eyes widening, you wondered if your phrasing had inadvertently crossed a line. Sure, you were totally willing, but- “Alright, just name a time.”

“Wait, really?” This time it was your turn to gape, one hand dropping off your backpack strap to fall to your side. Your heart picked up its pace. Never in a googolplex of years would you have thought Mr. It Boy K. Basketball would want a date with you. Being his friend was surprising enough.

“Yeah, of course. I think it’d be fun,” Mingyu beamed at you, “and I trust you. My sister likes you, too. If…if you really meant it, that is.” He added that last bit as his own gaze dropped and one hand reached up to rub the back of his neck.

Giggling shyly at his sudden sheepishness as well as the situation’s sheer absurdity, you tilted your head his way, smile melting back out of the shock. “Well, thanks, that actually…really means a lot. Get ready for an epic time, then!”

He cocked a brow, turning down between a row of potted trees toward the food court. “Have something in mind already?”

Actually, you did have something you always wanted to do if you could get someone else- it would look too weird to be the only one. Why not do it with Mingyu?

“Be afraid,” you nodded, smirking in satisfaction.

“Well then, how should I dress?”

“Just casual is fine,” you shrugged and teased, “we can’t all afford black tie, Mr. Business Major.”

“Fair enough,” he chuckled, still giving that wide smile you’d come to anticipate seeing, “Friday night?”

“Friday night,” you repeated.

~

“Get ready for Friday Night Showdown!”

“Um, (y/n), this is the grocery store.”

Your lips turned upward proudly as you rotated from a fist pump into a Vanna White pose before the mart. “I know.”

“Are we…” Mingyu paused, clearly searching for words. “Fighting in here or something?”

“We are not,” you replied cryptically, looking all the more satisfied as you passed between the automatic doors, Mingyu at your side.

“Am I doing your shopping?” He looked at you with still-raised eyebrows, though amusement colored his expression.

“That would be messed up!” You denied, shaking your head. “Though admittedly funny.”

“Don’t get any ideas for date two!”

Your heart flipped at Mingyu’s easy smile, how casually he said that…the way he flushed and looked away the moment the words left his mouth. He was already thinking of your next date? Hope he likes seafood, you internally joked.

“Yeah, no shopping tonight unless you wanted some snacks. Because tonight,” you skipped over all the central aisles of kitchen supplies, soap, and dry goods, making a beeline for the meat section… well, more specifically the fish counter, “is all about the face-off.”

In a split second you caught Mingyu’s eyes dart down once more past rows of cans, bottles, jars of just about every color you could ask for, dancing over their numerical markers as if to say farewell to actual shopping. Then, his gaze was back on you, your gestures, over your shoulder to the tank at the end of the fish counter. The tank full of lobsters with big claws and small patience. His eyes met yours again. He knew. You could see it.

You nodded. “Oh yeah. Pick your champion.”

He twisted his cap around backwards, revealing his face, those big, innocent brown eyes, once more. “Uh, quick question: how do you suggest I keep mine straight from the others?”

He was asking in earnest. That was another thing you liked about Mingyu: not only did he possess childlike wonder beyond what somebody in his age and station in life probably should, he was also a bad liar in the purest, kindest of senses. He really, truly, had never had a grocery store lobster beatdown date, and he couldn’t fake interest if he tried. So now he wanted tips, advice you could give him as if you had already had loads of grocery store lobster beatdown dates. All you could do was smile back at the tall basketball player and every small kindness he’d shown you thus far. The way he’d simply seen you.

“Good question. Don’t they have different colored wristbands?”

He arched a brow, clearly fighting a snicker. “Different what?”

Pantomiming a band with one hand grabbing the other, you stuttered. “You know, the… the claw restraints! The wristbands!”

“I don’t think they have wrists, (y/n),” Mingyu teased, reaching over and ruffling your hair.

Well, of course you realize this means war. “Alright, you are on,” was all you said, eyes narrowing.

He perked up at that. “What’s the bet?”

“Winner gets to pick the next activity,” you reply, sauntering a few steps closer to the lobster tank and pointing to one with a purple band over its claws that was clearly ready to throw- well, for lack of better terminology- hands, “and I choose this one.”

“Well, in that case,” Mingyu returned to your side, arm pressed against yours as he peered into the tank, “the logical choice would be to pick the one in red in front of yours. May the best crustacean win.”

And at that, his competitive stare melted back into that boyish look as he turned to you. “…did that sound cool?”

It almost came out as a snort, you burst out laughing so violently. “That was legendary,” was all you could wheeze out.

~

“Ha ha! I can’t believe it!” Mingyu grinned and bobbed up from his bent tank stare like an excited puppy, pumping the fist that wasn’t holding the mart beer can he’d bought as his lobster shoved yours away in victory.

The pair of crustaceans had been locked in claw-to-claw combat, tussling very slowly over nothing in particular but their proximal frustrations, and Mingyu’s had apparently vented harder, shoving yours back after some aggressive minutes. Mingyu had gotten into the fight, nudging you when something extra exciting happened and even providing commentary on sideline fights between sips.

First drawing a fly sandwich, then that. Truly, who'd've thunk?

“Neither can I," you mock-pouted, crossing your arms, "purple always wins."

"Says who?" Asked Mingyu, who leaned down closer to you, face mere inches from yours.

"Says me," you shrugged, feeling warmth spread across your face.

"Well, you know what?"

You could feel warmth of his breath ghosting faintly over your cheeks, your lips. "Wh- what?"

"As much as I enjoy a good bar," he leaned back a bit, clapping, "I did need something else. Something new. This was fun! Wanna go play basketball in the park? I bet we'll have the court to ourselves!"

There it was again. The reason everyone liked him. Movie love interest vibes, even beneath the oddly-tinted fluorescent lights of commerce. A smile like a boy on the body of a man. Probably not something they usually imagined to see over a lobster tank. Over hoops in the park, though? That tracked, even if it was a bit of a one-eighty from his breath fanning your face.

Beside any of that, he had won the right to choose.

"Sure," you smile, "let's keep your winning streak up."

And with a hand clasped around yours, that athletic strength was tugging you out the grocery store door to a rush of evening wind and the sound of mutual laughter.

~

Basketball really was that man’s passion. Just about the only thing about it you knew about the sport was what a slam dunk was, but what different shots scored different points? You wanted to throw a three-pointer, but what was a three-pointer?

You learned what it was, what an assist was, that elbowing was illegal or something like that because every game had a reason to send the players to sports jail like grown-up cops and robbers.

You got the ball in the basket twice with no help, and that was achievement enough. Mingyu had ran across the court to high-five you both times as if you’d just won him a game. When you messed up the angle of another throw, he got behind you and, trying your best to focus with his chest flush against your back, you tried again and sent the ball sailing without the betrayal of the previous throw’s dramatic arc.

“So can we give Clint Eastwood a basketball now too?” Mingyu asked out of the blue, dropping to the concrete at your side, legs crossing and knees brushing.

“What,” you chuckled, “do you have him with you or something?”

Reaching into his jacket pocket, he pulled a small white square out and unfolded it to reveal the piece of lined notebook paper with margins full of marker and pencil scratch, most notably your hatted frog friend. He kept those notes in his pocket?

With the one not holding Clint, he ran a hand through his short black hair. “I do like to have him with me,” he answered with a tentative smile.

You twisted slightly, feeling your spine pop from its prior exertion, and remembered his words from the basketball game as he’d visited your seat, making you laugh with a failed attempt at spinning the ball on his finger. “As a good luck charm?”

He shook his head. “I think we’ve added something almost every time we’ve been together. He’s like a log of all the memories we share.” With that, he scooched closer to your side, his jacket falling over the folds of your own clothes slightly. “And I like our memories, Frog Girl.”

What could you say to that? “Frog Girl?” You just giggled, eyes on his.

“That’s right,” Mingyu nodded, “I can’t believe I would never have talked to you if you hadn’t drawn a frog.”

“Ah, college,” you sighed, tilting your head, “the golden years, and yet it’s so easy to ignore everyone else.”

“Well, no longer,” Mingyu shot back, gaze honing in on…well, you weren’t sure, but you liked it, “I figured out what I want to do with my victory wish.”

You smiled at the phrase ‘victory wish’, a term that was just so him. “I thought that was this.” For emphasis, you waved a hand along the court, feeling the night breeze that much more on the skin of your palm.

“Nope,” he shook his head, smirking as his eyes fell back on yours, “I didn’t say I was using it then, I just asked if you wanted to come out here and you said yes."

Well, coat you in flour and call you a biscuit. "You evil genius, you." At that, you gave a grin and a shake of your own head, unable to resist feeling a bit impressed. Man plays games, he picks up some strategy. You'd have to remember that.

"I prefer to think of myself as a nice genius," Mingyu said, and then, switching tones completely, doing another one-eighty to one sweet enough to make your heart swell, he continued, "and about my wish: can I kiss you? I can't think of a better way to end Friday Night Showdown."

Deathly afraid of saying something stupid, you answered by shifting from your crossed legs, folding them to the side as you sat up, knee resting slightly on the edge of his leg as you pressed your lips to his. The slick of his sports jacket between your fingers felt cool as you gripped it to hold both yourself and Mingyu in place as he surged forward into you. For his speed, his eagerness, his kiss was surprisingly soft, not digging too deep but just firmly holding you, treasuring you as if the feeling of your lips was about to fade. Oh, buddy, I'm not going anywhere, you murmured in your head against the feeling of his ever-so-slightly chapped lips.

And as he pulled away, separation painfully slow, deliberate, Mingyu looked you dead in the eyes, blinked at the sudden return of hazy park streetlight, and said “Wow.”

You nodded. “Wow.” Can’t believe how well those lobsters worked, you wanted to say. "You're full of surprises, Mr. Basketball."

“Mr. Basketball,” he mused, gaze briefly drifting from yours, then back. “I wasn’t sure you were going to be that into me, being so funny and smart and artistic and stuff, but I just couldn’t help myself. And boy am I glad for that,” he grinned.

For that, all you could do was kiss him again.

No more hoops were shot that night, only words tossed out with new glee as you, now wrapped in Mingyu’s jacket, pointed out lesser-known constellations, like the Dutch giraffe one or the Poop Deck. After all, you had a reputation to keep up on that date, and everyone had already seen the Big Dipper.

[tswaney17]

Unholy

@elriel-month | Death's Fanged Beast

This is... well, it's porn. Nothing more. And before y'all come for me, let me note that I am NOT religious. I have no real foundation for any sort of religious/catholic background. This story is just a bunch of randomly used religious expressions strung together with no rhyme or reason. If this is not your cup of tea, don't read it. It was a wild idea I mentioned years ago that's finally come to pass.

Dedicated to the lovely @elainsweetcobalt for reasons. 😘

My fanfic account: @tswaney17fics​​​

My ao3 account: tswaney17

Please let me know what you think about this update. I love getting your feedback. Constructive criticism is always welcome. 💕

Trigger warnings: NSFW - explicit, goes against religious beliefs, just overall not for the faint of heart.

Word Count: 2,265

This fic will be posted on AO3 only. Read the beginning below or click here to head to AO3.

Father Azriel knew exactly who entered the confessional booth even with the privacy screen between them. The delicate scent of jasmine and honey followed her into the tiny chamber, invading his mind. Any ability to be impartial was destroyed right then and there.

Elain Archeron was sin itself.

Lust on legs.

She made him want to break his vow of celibacy; had taken to fisting himself in sin late at night from the image of her kneeling on the steps of his altar.

It was his personal form of torment. Seeing her every blessed Sunday in the front row of his church, always in a sundress that made his mouth water. And always, always wearing that delicate, golden cross neckless just around the base of her elegant throat.

He was in Hell.

Read More

~~~~~

Remember, sharing is caring! Please reblog if you liked the fic. It helps spread my work and I truly appreciate it. 💕

While I have moved most of my fics to AO3 only, I am still going to utilize a tag list here on Tumblr. This as a permanent solution and may change in the future. For notifications, you can follow and subscribe to my fanfic account where I will be reblogging updates and snippets only. You can also find me on ao3. If you would like to be added to my tag list, please leave a comment on this post.

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Some tags seem to not want to link, which could be related to your visibility settings. Sorry about that!

[rip-quizilla]

Impossible to Hate You ~ Part 5

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!Reader

Summary: Everything is falling- leaves from the trees, rain from the sky, you for Eddie, and Eddie for you.

Word Count: 10.1 K

A/N: Big thanks to @the-unforgivenn (happy birthday❤️) for all of the help you gave me on this chapter, and honestly this whole fic in general. You've been an invaluable part of the writing process of this story, and the fact that you care so much about Eddie & Ace just makes me feel so loved... you don't even know. Ily wifey✨

Thank you @vintagehellfire for your priceless tattoo knowledge- I hope I did you proud!!

Also thanks to @blueywrites for helping me decide on what Eddie would tattoo on reader back in our Tumblr DMs in June😂 y'all that's how long I've had this scene in my brain. This part of the story has been a long time coming.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Part 5

Fall, 1983

“Rick, are you serious, man?”

“Dead serious, I’ll sell it to you for twenty.”

You caught the tail end of their conversation as you approached the red plastic picnic table in Forest Hills trailer park. Today was the first day of fall, and while it may not have felt like biting cold and crunchy leaves yet, it did feel like flannels tied around waists and long-dead grass that broke beneath the soles of your shoes. You hopped up onto the surface of the table, swinging your feet around to rest beside Eddie where he sat on the bench. 

“Sell what?” you asked, producing three cans of Coke from your bag that you’d brought from home and handing one to each of the boys. Rick had grown accustomed to your presence since the spring, so he actually cracked a smile when he answered your question and nodded in thanks as he accepted the can.

“Munson wants to buy my old tattoo gun.”

Your jaw dropped. “Wait, seriously?” you asked Eddie.

He didn’t take his eyes off Rick. “And I’m wondering what the catch is if you’re selling it to me for so cheap.” 

You cracked open your can of soda with a hiss, joining Eddie in his Rick stare-down. “Hmm,” you mused, “I bet he forgot to clean it and it’s staph-infested.”

“Nope,” Rick popped the ‘p’ after taking a swig from his shiny red can. “Never been used, so I can guarantee it’s staph-free. Always meant to use it, but after that brush with the cops I had last month, I don’t want to risk having it.”

You narrowed your eyes at Eddie, trying to discern whether or not he’d thought about the fact that if he bought it, then he would be in possession of paraphernalia for illegal Indiana activities. 

Then again, you knew he smoked weed and that was most definitely against the law as well, and he hadn’t been caught yet. You trusted him not to be stupid enough to get arrested.

You turned your line of questioning on Eddie. “Why on earth do you need a tattoo gun anyway?”

“Well you see, Ace-” Eddie lifted one of your feet up from the bench, straightening your leg and presenting your right shoe- your white converse, half covered in mythical creatures and random doodles that Eddie had slowly been adding to with his fine-tipped Sharpie ever since you’d bought them in early August. “-it seems that I need a canvas for my art, and it won’t be long before I run out of shoe.” 

You quirked an eyebrow. “So now people are the canvas?” 

Eddie held up his arms, bare skin nearly translucent in the afternoon sun. His nearly-too-small Iron Maiden tee showcased just how much bare skin he had to spare along the contours of his limbs. “If by people you mean me, then yeah.” 

“You’re going to tattoo yourself?”

“Yep!”

“Without practicing on someone else first?”

Eddie smirked, “You volunteering?”

You rolled your eyes, but for some odd reason the idea stuck. You decided to play along. 

“Let’s say I am, what would the tattoo be?” 

Eddie hadn’t anticipated this answer. He was so surprised, in fact, that he choked on the soda that he’d just sipped into his mouth before your question. In a cacophony of coughs and wheezes, Eddie managed to regain his composure as you smiled wryly, feeling as though you’d bested him somehow in some small way. To fluster him with something as small as this, something he hadn’t expected. 

“You’re serious? You want a tattoo?” Eddie responded skeptically, before turning away from you to fiddle with his soda can still held in his hands. 

You shrugged, as if he were asking if you wanted a pizza, not a permanent brand inked on your skin. “Why not? I think I’d look pretty badass with a tattoo.” 

You weren’t sure what was making you feel so bold today, but you had a feeling it might be related to the thought of Eddie covered in ink that wound up and down his skin that was making you ache to touch it when it was still naked and peach-pale. You scooched a couple inches down the tabletop to the left, placing your seat directly behind Eddie’s neck. 

Then, in a stroke of something between bravery, stupidity, and need, you carefully slung your legs over Eddie’s shoulders so that they sat in the bends of your knees.

It was a simple gesture- familiar, even. You made a point to lean back a little, bracing your hands behind you on the tabletop so that the apex of your thighs stayed a good distance from the back of Eddie’s neck. You felt Eddie’s shoulders stiffen, each muscle under your jeans tensing for a moment before relaxing into the closeness. 

Then Eddie brought his hands to your ankles, his fingertips brushing the spare skin between your high tops and the cuffs of your jeans. The pads of his thumbs barely caressed the skin but they felt like a kiss- a thing coveted and then forbidden, then coveted even more. 

His touch drifted over your legs, warm hands coming to rest over your shins and squeeze, heating the denim that separated his skin from yours. You were holding your breath. You’d been so confident a second ago yet here he was, knocking the very air from your lungs. 

You waited anxiously for him to say something; if he didn’t you were sure you were going to do something stupid. Something that would involve more of his skin on your skin.

“Would you want this tattoo of yours to show?” Eddie asked at last, breaking the silence between the two of you- well, the three of you. Rick was still there, taking in the sight before him with a smirk on his face. 

“Not easily, my parents would kill me.” you said, ensuring that your tone of voice was nonchalant, casual. “But I don’t see the harm in something small that I could hide.” 

Eddie tilted his head back and up, earthen eyes flicking up to yours. “What happened to ‘looking badass’?”

You pursed your lips as you leaned forward, bringing your faces to hover parallel over each other. “You’re saying that taking my pants off to reveal a surprise tatty isn’t badass?”

You watched as Eddie’s eyes flashed darker for a split second- nearly imperceptibly so- before his lips stretched sinfully into a mischievous grin. “Oh, under the pants then, huh?” 

His hands traced higher, ghosting on your knees and burning his fingerprints through your jeans. 

“Easy to hide,” you said, struggling to keep your voice even. “It’s a practical placement.”

Eddie’s thumbs stroked absentminded circles into the flesh of your lower thighs, tight denim puckering with the motion. “Practical placement…” he murmured, low enough that it sounded like he hadn’t even meant to say it out loud. 

“You could put it on your hip.”

Both of your heads whipped around to focus on Rick, who was grinning at both of you like he’d just discovered a fun new game to play. He shrugged, hopping up to sit beside you on the tabletop. “You want it to be hidden all of the time, right?” he leaned to shove you congenially with his shoulder. “When’s a good girl like you gonna be showing off some hip? I bet the only one who’ll see that will already be married to you when he lays eyes on-”

“Hey!” you interjected. “You act like I’m some prude, I’m not a nun.” Rolling your eyes, you looked back down at Eddie hoping to meet his gaze and laugh together over how ridiculous Rick was being. However, you looked down only to find Eddie’s chocolate browns trained on Rick with wide-eyed warning. A silent message was clearly being exchanged, but it wasn’t for you.

Rick was smiling smugly down at Eddie, unbeknownst to you, and Eddie was getting the message loud and clear:

It’s time to raise the stakes, kid. 

“Perfect!” Rick chirped, smug eyes still trained on Eddie’s. “So you wouldn’t mind letting Eddie use your hip as his, uh… canvas, then?”

If Eddie’s looks could kill, Rick would be a dead man. 

“Yeah.” you choked out, refusing to give yourself time to chicken out of what you’d gotten yourself into. “Yeah, why not?”

***

Rainy days in autumn just felt right.

Sure, you were in Latin class. Sure, you were supposed to be working on a packet the substitute teacher had just passed out. However, it was raining outside. The sub was easygoing enough that she hadn’t made a move to stop Eddie from doodling on your shoe that was perched comfortably on the crook of his hip. 

You sat behind him in every class you had together- there were four of them this year- and Eddie had gotten into the habit of reaching back to tap you on the leg whenever he knew he was losing focus. Every time he tapped, you would carefully stretch your leg forward until his hand caught on your ankle, lifting it up until it rested on his lap. His sharpie would go to work on whatever blank spots he could still find on your white converse, and the mindless activity of his drawing would keep his mind awake enough to listen as teachers droned on and on. 

The change in Eddie wasn’t lost on his teachers- they had all noticed the impact that your company seemed to have on him, and it was the only reason why they hadn’t had any issues with your constant companionship. When you were around, Eddie actually paid attention in his classes and turned in work- that was good enough for them.

The silence of the classroom and the soundtrack of rainfall beating against the roof and windows had created the perfect work zone for you, and your focus on your classwork was only interrupted when you noticed a folded piece of torn notebook paper on the edge of your desk. 

Smirking as you felt Eddie continue doodling on your shoe, you unfolded the paper and read the slanted scrawl that you’d come to recognize instantly as Eddie’s handwriting. 

Were you serious about the tattoo thing? It’s OK if you’re not.

Your cheeks heated, contemplating whether you were still serious about it or not. The only fears you had about it were completely logical- Eddie had literally no clue what he was doing. Yours would only be his second tattoo after his own. Worst case scenario, the tattoo would get infected and you go to the hospital. Eddie gets arrested for tattooing without a medical license. Best case scenario… you get to sit there while he grips your naked thigh for as long as it takes to leave a permanent reminder of him on your hip. 

You blinked a couple of times, letting that mental image wash over you, before confidently penning your answer beneath his message. 

I’m serious. 

Folding the scrap of paper and handing it back to him, you felt his Sharpie leave your shoe as he took the note and read it. You watched him register the two words, glance back at you through the loose strands of hair that hung over his shoulder, then smile softly into a shake of his head. A second later, he was handing the note back to you.

If you say so, Ace. What am I tattooing, and where?

You had to think about it for a moment before passing back your answer

Hip is fine. What are you gonna do? We could match.

Eddie’s reply came faster than you’d ever seen him write any of his notes in class, that’s for damn sure.

You want matching tattoos?? Are you sure?

Your heart began to race. Was that bad? Was he judging you for wanting to match him? Maybe you were being too clingy, trying too hard… you glanced down at his jacket, which was wrapped around you almost every day at this point- it was practically a second skin. His handwriting was all over your shoes. You stared at your fingers, scarlet polish chipping from the tips of your nails, and you remembered that you’d chosen red solely because he’d mentioned it was his favorite color. 

Were you coming across as desperate? Were you weirding him out? Maybe you needed to dial it back-

A new piece of paper slid across your desk, Eddie’s eyes glancing your way with nothing but warmth in his gaze before he returned his attention to your shoe on his lap. 

I’m fine with it if you are. 

Putting bats on my forearm. 

You released a breath that you hadn’t realized you’d been holding, giving ways for butterflies to take flight inside your chest. You grinned, jotting down your reply beneath his writing. 

I’m more than fine with it. 

Could you do just one little bat on my hip?

Eddie took a little longer this time with his response, and you understood why once you saw the adorably small silhouette of a bat penned in black on the paper he’d passed back to you. 

You leaned forward, letting your chin nearly brush the fabric of his denim jacket as you whispered low enough that the substitute teacher wouldn’t hear. 

“It’s perfect.”

A snicker from the other side of the classroom caught your ear. Eddie and you both turned to see a cluster of letter-jacketed assholes staring at the two of you, whispering and laughing with each other. 

You knew deep down that you didn’t care what they thought. You knew that you should just keep your head down. Ignore them. 

But then you caught the tail end of one of their sentences.

“...fucking freaks.”

Two things happened simultaneously: your eyebrows jumped, and Eddie’s stomach dropped.

The ringing of the bell was all you needed to angrily shove your belongings into your backpack and march over to the other side of the classroom, stopping the jocks in their tracks. Eddie was right behind you, tugging you back by the crook of your elbow as you steadily ignored his pleas to sit down and ignore them, they aren’t worth it.

“You want to repeat what you were saying over there, Alan?” You stared up at the freckled boy, his harsh features sneering down at you from where he stood nearly half a foot taller than you. His height did nothing to deter you, however. Neither did Eddie’s death grip on your arm.

Alan snorted, raising an eyebrow at the sight of the two of you before him. His eyes flicked over you, appraising for about two seconds before directing his attention to Eddie behind you. “You letting your girl pick your fights for you now, Munson?” 

Eddie didn’t have a chance to respond; you didn’t give him one. “Don’t look at him.” you stepped forward, bringing you mere inches from the freckled football star. “I asked you a question.”

Alan and his cronies laughed, apparently amused by the show of dominance you were trying to make. You opened your mouth to berate him further, but the sharp tug on your arm from Eddie was strong enough this time to jerk you away from them and toward the door of the classroom. 

“Wh- Eddie, quit it!” you tried to shake off his grip but it wasn’t going to budge; Eddie marched you out the door and down the hallway like a man on a mission. 

“Yeah, Eddie, quit it!” You both could hear Alan’s patronizing whine from the classroom, his voice thrown into a reedy falsetto that made your blood boil. His voice trailed off, melting into the nasal snickers of his friends.

Eddie didn’t let go of your arm until the two of you reached his locker, at which point he finally looked you in the eye- and his stare embodied an intensity that you hadn’t seen from him ever before. You’d seen him intense, of course… just not like this. 

This looked like fear. 

“What the fuck was that for?” Eddie bit out, his teeth clenched and eyes wide. 

You crossed your arms, suddenly defensive. Had you messed up, somehow? “I… I mean, they were calling us names, I wasn’t going to just sit there.”

“Alan’s an illiterate asshole, you don’t need to explain yourself to him.”

“I know I don’t need to, but…” You chuckled humorlessly, that familiar vengeful feeling from moments ago beginning to bubble back up. “You know what, no. I do need to. I’m not the kind of person who can just sit there while jerks like him run around slandering good people, it’s wrong!”

Eddie huffed, his hands on his hips as he glanced around and shook his head. “Slandering, huh? That’s a big word, Ace. What’s that, the college word of the day?” You raised an eyebrow, watching him closely and curiously. 

He was fidgeting nonstop, repeatedly picking up his feet and replacing them on the floor only an inch or so away from where they’d been before. His eyes darted in every direction, as if scanning for potential threats so that he could run from them before they decided to pounce. 

“Eddie, why are you so afraid of those guys?” 

Big brown eyes widened to saucers, refocusing on you. “This isn’t fear, Ace, it’s just common sense.” Eddie checked over his shoulder to ensure the jocks were gone, then took a step closer. He leaned his shoulder against the locker, lifting his opposite arm to gently place his hand on your upper arm. You shivered, feeling his thumb trace small circles through his own black leather. Maybe that’s why he’s so scared all of a sudden, you pondered, leaning closer to Eddie. He’s given me his armor. 

You lowered your voice, sympathetic to Eddie’s plight. “You know I wouldn’t let them hurt you, Eds.” Looking up into his eyes, you expected to see them soften, gratitude coating his gaze. Instead, they widened and crinkled slightly at the edges. Eddie huffed out a gaudy laugh, incredulous at your admission.

“Hurt me?” he shook his head, stunned, and began to rifle through his locker for the books he needed for next class. “Ace, I just don’t want them to hurt you!”

You balked. “Me?” an eyebrow raised, you crossed your arms over your chest, defensive once again. “You really think they’d hit a girl? They’re jerks but I don’t think they’d go that far-”

“Nah, they’ll only sick their girlfriends on you.” Eddie punctuated his sentence with a slam of his locker door. “Purebred harpies with matching scrunchies who’ll make your life a living hell and then pretend that you’re the crazy one.”

It was a struggle to keep up with him at the rate he was walking, strides each a yard wide as he tugged you along by your hand. 

Your hand. Eddie Munson was holding your hand. 

“You, uh… you speaking from experience?” You stuttered over your words, cheeks heating at the sudden skin-to-skin contact. He had just admitted that he didn’t want to see you get hurt- his blatant protectiveness of you coupled with the way he was decisively dragging you by the hand to your locker right now was nearly too much for you to handle. 

“Trust me,” Eddie sighed, swinging you around as he reached your locker and (to your dismay) letting go of your hand. “You get asked out on a dare enough times, you figure out how their coven operates.” 

Eddie wasn’t meeting your eyes. You had to actually place your hand on his shoulder to capture his gaze. “Eddie,” you said, making a conscious effort to keep your voice steady and be something stable for him to feel at least a little grounded on. “Deep breath.”

Surprisingly, he did as you said. Eddie closed his eyes, inhaling deep and allowing his lungs to fill long enough that his chest expanded before his exhale blew softly on your cheeks. It smelled like the apple you’d brought for him at lunch.

 When you were once again treated to that warm hazelnut gaze, your hand acted without thinking and flew up to gently rest against his jawline. You were crossing some invisible line- you knew that- but the light in the hallway was causing shadows to take up residence in the dusting of whiskers that decorated the sharp incline that led to his chin. Your fingertips brushed his skin reverently, and he seemed frozen. Eddie didn’t dare move; you were like a butterfly that had deigned to land on him of all people, and damn it all if he was going to fuck it up and scare you off. 

“I’ve got you, you’ve got me… right?” Your voice was barely loud enough to be heard through the noise of bustling students. “We look out for each other, Eddie, we’re stronger together.” 

Eddie remained still under your caress, wishing he could focus on your touch. Wishing he could rip his eyes away from where they were trained behind you- held in terrified contact with a sadistic-looking Alan who stood with his cherry-lipsticked girlfriend across the hallway. Alan’s lips were curled into a sneer, watching as the thing that Eddie wanted most became his worst nightmare.

You were openly touching him, while wearing his clothes, standing in shoes covered with his drawings- and Eddie watched in horror as the harpy pushed up on her tiptoes to whisper something in Alan’s ear before both of them refocused not on Eddie, but on you. 

They laughed like fucking heyenas, eyeing their next meal. 

It took every ounce of self control Eddie had, but he gently took your hand in his and lowered it from his cheek. He ignored the way your eyes gazed up at him the same way a scorned puppy begged for some kind of affection, any confirmation that they are, indeed, loved. 

“It’s the together part I’m worried about, Ace.” Eddie whispered, keeping his voice low. 

You were quiet, which Eddie hated because it was his fault.

“Oh, and um-” Eddie raised his shoulders and shivered, rubbing his hands along his upper arms to warm himself with the friction. “-it’s a little chilly today… you mind if I wear the jacket?” His hand drifted down to the flannel that hung loosely tied around your waist, taking a corner of the material and feeling it between the pads of his thumb and forefinger.

“This’ll keep you warm, yeah?” 

You stared blankly for a moment, stunned. You had nearly forgotten that the jacket was his to take. You’d assumed he liked that you always wore his jacket, but… perhaps you’d made that up. You were eager for him to want things like that, after all… ‘more than friends’ kinds of things. However, asking for a borrowed item to be returned was completely normal for friends. You chided yourself for reading too much into it and smiled warmly up at him.

“Yeah! Of course!” you sprung into action, setting your backpack down on the floor as you began to shrug off the jacket. “You’re right it’s frigid in here today.” 

You handed the jacket to Eddie, who donned it with a thin-lipped smile. Parting ways for your next class, you departed in opposite directions down the hallway. 

Upon arriving in your calculus class, you glanced out the window eager to zone out as you watched the rain, only to be greeted by a gray sky drained of its water. The rain’s reprieve left nothing in its wake but a tired sun, soft mist that obscured all surety, and packed Indiana dirt softened to mud too loose for one to find their footing. 

The sort of mud that, should you try to walk through it, you’d be destined to slip and fall. 

***

When Eddie thought of Halloween, he thought of blood and sugar. 

It was a strange contradiction, the way that Halloween’s association with horror and gore had balanced itself out with candy corn and fun-sized Snickers bars, and yet the juxtaposition of the two brought a smile to his face. The combination of sweet and terrifying embodied the holiday perfectly. On Halloween, there was no need for any kind of steely exterior that might protect him from judgment. No need to hide the way he really feels behind the scary metalhead armor he’d so carefully curated as a defense mechanism. 

On Halloween, he wasn’t just allowed to be a freak. He was celebrated for it. 

On Halloween, he could just be. 

It was the reason why Halloween just so happened to be the day he’d had enough courage to look through your bedroom window exactly four years ago. It’s the day when Hell meets Heaven to make something sweet, and anything can happen.

Anything- including matching tattoos on the floor of his trailer. 

Everything was ready- Eddie had laid out sheets of newspaper to cover what he’d deemed the tattoo zone, and broken down a cardboard box to act as a stable surface on the soft carpet of his bedroom floor. Eddie had scrutinized every instruction he’d been able to wrench from Rick for how to work the tattoo machine. Grips, needles, fucking rubber bands that were apparently very necessary… he’d made sure he had it all. He’d even practiced on an orange that he’d swiped from the kitchen counter.

A thick black cable now snaked across his carpeted floor, connecting the machine to a pedal, the pedal to a power supply, and the power supply to the yellowed plastic outlet on his wall. Beside the machine sat a stack of paper towels and all sorts of other shit Rick had advised him to make sure he used. He was lucky that Rick had bought a bottle of black ink- Eddie wouldn’t have known where to seek out medical-grade ink in a state where it was illegal to ink your skin without a license. 

Your knock at his door made Eddie jump; he wasn’t sure why he was so nervous. It would be easy to write his nerves off as adrenaline before his first tattoo, but who was he kidding- it was you. You’d gone from someone who made him nervous to someone who made him nervous for different reasons, and all of this was very inconvenient for Eddie. 

“Trick or Treat,” You’d chirped when he opened the door, and it was at that moment Eddie realized that this night may very well be the death of him.

You wore your favorite baggy sweater over a tight black tank top, which you’d tucked into some high waisted acid washed jeans. Unsurprisingly, the chucks on which he’d scribbled his claim were fastened securely on your feet. In your hands was a variety pack of halloween candies and a shopping bag from the local drugstore. Everything about you radiated warmth, and Eddie had to fight the urge to change tonight’s itinerary to movies and a blanket fort and spend the whole evening on the couch with you, surrounded by candy wrappers and the light of his television set. 

“I brought antibacterial soap,” you said, bringing Eddie back to reality. You rifled through your shopping bag to show him your spoils as you stepped through the threshold and into his trailer. “-large bandages, and a little travel first aid kit just in case. Oh, and I did a little bit of reading at the library and I couldn’t find much on tattoos, but the one commonality between every book and article I could find said to make sure you wash the wound often and disinfect everything-”

“Ace,” Eddie interrupted, taking the bag from you and closing the front door. The corner of his mouth quirked up, keeping an amused chuckle at bay. “You went to the library to read about how to safely care for an illegal tattoo?” Your expression soured, shifting to a half-scowl, half-pout. 

“Well one of us has got to do it,” you huffed, grabbing the bag and marching towards Eddie’s room. “And I know you wouldn’t set foot in the library unless you were forced.” You continued to yell at him from his room, “You’ll thank me when your kitchen-scratched tattoo doesn’t get infected, and you get to grow old with all of your limbs intact!”

Eddie stayed glued to his spot as his smirk grew into a goofy grin. You were fucking adorable. 

You hadn’t argued when Eddie insisted that he start with his own tattoo- before he got started on permanently marking your skin, he wanted to be sure that he at least had gotten the hang of it first. He immediately started getting to work with his trusty fine-tipped Sharpie, sketching out a scattering of bats on his forearm and glancing every once in a while at his notebook for reference. You’d flipped through that notebook on several occasions when the two of you had sat idle during classes or study sessions. The drawings were always sprawling, sharp and gruesome in a way that wasn’t so much scary as it was fascinating to you. 

You laid stomach-down on his mattress, positioned behind where he sat on the floor, his back leaned up against the bed frame and close enough that you could probably reach down and play with his hair if you were bold enough. You didn’t- no matter how tempting it was, you didn’t want to risk anything that might mess up his focus. You settled for watching Eddie’s reflection in the mirror that sat leaned up against the wall in front of him. 

When the Sharpie stencil had dried and Eddie picked up the tattoo machine, you couldn’t deny the nervous uptake in your heart rate. You watched him gingerly begin the process of permanently inking his drawing into his skin, and before the needle touched skin, Eddie looked over his shoulder at you and winked, whispering a surprisingly shaky “Point of no return.” Before you could ask if he was having second thoughts, he was already outlining the first bat, his socked foot pressing decisively on the pedal that whirred his machine to life. 

Minutes ticked by before you uttered a soft “Does it hurt?” to break the awkward silence. Normally, Eddie had some sort of music playing, Metallica or WASP or something along those lines spinning on his cheap old turntable- but tonight there was nothing but the electric buzz that filled the small bedroom, and it was starting to make you antsy. 

Eddie huffed, and it was as much of a laugh as he could afford while holding still. “Well, Ace, it’s a needle sticking in and out of my arm repeatedly, so if I’m being honest it ain’t exactly sunshine and rainbows.” You watched him wince as he moved on from outlining the first bat and started on the second. 

“Does it at least make you feel a little badass?” You watched his reflection in the mirror glance up through the curtain of his hair and raise an eyebrow at you. 

“That depends,” He said, “do I look badass?” 

“A little.” You teased. “You’ll look more badass when the tattoo is finished.” 

That earned you a snort from him. “What, fifty percent of a tattoo doesn’t cut it?” His reflection flashed you a genuine smile, that lopsided grin affecting you the way it always does, spiking your body temp and rushing the thump of your heart. 

“Nope. Though, if your intention is to tell the world that you have commitment issues-”

“I do not have commitment issues-”

“Then what kind of issues do you have?” 

Eddie parted the needle from his skin, taking a moment to glance wryly over his shoulder in your direction. 

“You.” It was punctuated by a tongue that peeked out from between his lips. You followed suit, shoulders shaking as you chuckled.

Silence threatened to fall for a moment then, but Eddie put a stop to that. “Keep talking.”

“Huh?”

His voice was quiet, muttered like he was biting the inside of his cheek as he spoke. “Hurts less when we’re talking.”

You smiled, watching as he avoided your eye contact in the mirror, focusing on his arm as a subtle blush began to creep onto his cheeks. Tempting as it was to tease, you opted for a more neutral topic.

“Which is better, sour candy or chocolate?”

You could barely see his eyebrows furrow behind his curtain of curls as he considered your question. “Chocolate.”

“You’re crazy.”

He barked out a laugh. “After all the ridiculous shit I’ve said, that’s what crosses the line for you?”

You shook your head, amping up your reaction for his benefit; he was laughing, and it was music to your ears. You were greedy for more of it. 

“Sour candy is a whole experience, chocolate is just sweet! That’s all it has going for it!”

Eddie gawked but kept his eyes trained on his skin. “What do you have against sweets?”

You rolled your eyes, flopping from your stomach to your back and staring up at the water stain on Eddie’s ceiling. “I haven’t got anything against sweets… I just like a little tart to go with it. Oh hang on, that reminds me-”

You stuck your hand into the plastic bag you’d brought with you, producing a variety pack of cheap Halloween candies. “Do you normally get trick-or-treaters? I thought we could pour these into a bowl and set it out on the porch- you know, so we don’t have to keep answering the door.”

Eddie Shook his head. “Nah, not a lot of kids who live here. Those who do always high-tail it to the neighborhoods where the good shit is, like-”

“Loch Nora?” you finished, smirking. 

Nodding his approval, Eddie echoed, “Loch Nora.”

“Well in that case,” you yanked open the bag of candy so hard that a few individually wrapped pieces were flung onto the bedspread as well as the floor below. “I guess we’ll have to eat all of this ourselves.”

Eddie paused his tattooing to glance at a fun-sized packet of sour gummy worms that had landed on the carpet beside him. “Gummy worms?” he asked.

You flicked the back of his head while the needle was off his skin. “Uh, yeah, they’re delicious.”

“Did you at least get candy corn?”

You gagged. “Candy corn?!”

The two of you passed the next hour like that, debating about various arbitrary topics and inevitably disagreeing on almost all of them. There were only three things that you both agreed on without any debate whatsoever: Santa Claus was the superior holiday mascot, Joan Jett could easily beat Cyndi Lauper in a fight, and The Empire Strikes Back was way better than A New Hope.

When Eddie was finally finished with his tattoo, you were off the bed in an instant and already reaching for the antibacterial soap. 

“You should wash it under some warm water first before anything gross has a chance to get in there-”

“Hey hey hey, whoa hold on!” Eddie was laughing, eyes wide as he smiled at you. Your hand was already encircled around his wrist, tugging his arm (and the person attached to it) toward the bathroom. “Ace, you haven’t even looked at it yet, c’mon you’re bruising the artist’s ego here.” 

You sighed but couldn’t hide the rueful grin that danced on your pursed lips. Softening your vice like grip on his wrist, you shifted your hands to cradle his forearm and survey the last hour’s work.

“It looks good, Eddie… really good, actually.” You absently swiped a thumb over the soft skin of his wrist. “If you’d told me it was professionally done, I’d totally believe you.”

“Yeah?” He looked up from where your thumb stroked the base of his forearm, eyes shining.

“Yeah,” you smirked. “Of course, I’d tell you to try and get your money back, but-”

“Oh shove it up your ass, Sweet Tart.” The playful shoulder-check had you letting go of his arm, but both of your faces were painted with ear-to-ear smiles. 

Eddie washed his new tattoo in the bathroom sink, admiring the way the bats stretched and shifted with every flex of his forearm. Your mouth hurt, as did the muscles in your cheeks; you couldn’t stop smiling. He was so happy with his work, and you had to admit that he had actually done a really good job with that tattoo machine. 

“We’ve got to get you out of Indiana, Munson,” you murmured to the mirror where he continued to scrutinize his work from every angle. “I think you may have just found your calling.” 

His eyes were wide and shining with pride as they glanced your way. “You think?” 

You nodded, that saccharine smile stubbornly staying put on your lips. To be fair, you didn’t fight it.

“You’re coming with me, then.” Eddie replied, his own smile glowing in the dying light above the bathroom mirror.

There it was- that familiar fire beneath the skin of your cheeks.

“Oh I am, huh?” 

“Hell yeah.” Eddie braced his arm on the doorway, leaning over you until your faces were mere inches apart. “We’re stronger together, remember?”

Breathe. Breathe… Why can’t you breathe?

You’d barely managed a nod before Eddie was ducking around you through the doorway, grabbing your hand, and leading you back to his room. 

“Your turn, Ace.”

Oh yeah, you were also getting a tattoo today. You’d almost forgotten. Were you nervous? You weren’t sure. Actually, yes, you were very nervous- not so much about the tattoo as you were for where the tattoo would be. 

In minutes, you were both sitting on Eddie’s bedroom floor- Eddie readying everything he needed for your new ink, and you sitting eerily still as your soul started to feel like it might leave your body.

“Ace,”

Eyes refocusing, you blinked a few times. “Yeah?”

Eddie’s expression was calm, sympathetic to the inward freak-out he had a feeling you were on the verge of. “We don’t have to do this, you know. I wouldn’t hold it against you.”

You tried to laugh, but it came out sounding a little more strained than you had intended. “Hah…you saying I have commitment issues?”

The corner of his mouth quirked up, but Eddie’s eyebrows stayed knitted together above his big brown eyes. “No,” he murmured. His voice was soft, as if he were speaking to a stray animal and trying not to spook it. “I guess I’m just… trying to give you an out, so you don’t feel pressured or anything.”

You shook your head, “I don’t want an out.”

Eddie blinked, “No?”

“No.”

There was a second of silence between the two of you before you both took in a collective breath, exhaling simultaneously and giggling when you both realized that you were breathing in sync. Perfect harmony; sour and sweet, nervous but willing. 

“You, uh…” Eddie stammered, his eyes flicking down to your lap and back up to your face. “...you still want it on your hip?”

Your heart rate doubled. 

“Um, yeah.” you awkwardly shifted your weight onto your knees, grabbing hold of your waistband and unbuttoning your shorts. You shimmied them over your hips, revealing the rest of your leotard- leotard, Eddie realized. Not a tank top. You were wearing a black leotard. It was almost like the kind that he’d seen ballerinas wear, except it cut so high on your hips that he was sure it wouldn’t be allowed in any of the dance studios he could think of, and….yep. YEP, it was practically a thong. Your ass was out. You were sitting on the floor of his bedroom with your ass out. 

Chill out, Munson! He screamed inwardly at himself, Chill the fuck out!

Of course, you couldn’t tell that there was a war going on between Eddie’s ability to function and the short-circuiting that threatened to render him unable to do anything but stare at you. All you could see was the way his jaw had gone slack and his eyes bugged out of their sockets.

You smiled shyly, a twinge of something between satisfaction and guilt nudging at your heartstrings. “I figured this thing would be less awkward than if I was sitting here in my underwear,” you laughed nervously as you gestured to your leotard.

Eddie gulped. He couldn’t see much of a difference. “Yeah, totally.” 

A beat passed. You grabbed a bag of gummy worms from the floor, tearing it open with a crinkle of the plastic that would not have been so loud if the two of you weren’t dead silent. You bit into the candy where the color changed from pink to blue, then finally muttered through your chewing, “Ready when you are.” 

Eddie blinked rapidly, taking his Sharpie in his hands. “Uh, yeah… yeah, okay.” 

With your free hand, you pointed to the part of your hip where your flesh naturally creased as your thigh met your pelvis. 

“Is here good?”

Eddie gulped. 

“Yeah, that’s good.” But Eddie was very much not good. He was the opposite of good, he felt like he was malfunctioning. When he placed his free hand on your upper thigh, he almost apologized. Why the hell did he feel like he had to apologize? He had no clue. His palms were sweating- did you feel how sweaty his palms were? Oh god. He forgot what a bat looked like- you were trusting his artistic skills enough for him to permanently ink his drawing into your skin and he couldn’t even remember what a goddamn bat looked li- oh, wait, he had them on his own forearm now. Eddie glanced at his arm, reminding himself what a goddamn bat looked like. 

He’s never felt like more of a nervous idiot than right now. 

Meanwhile, you felt like you were about to explode.

His hand was warm. So warm as he grasped your thigh. Whenever he’d touched you before, there was always a barrier, some form of separation between his skin and yours- jeans, a sweater, a flannel. 

A leather jacket.

That’s right- he had taken his jacket back. Maybe you were reading too deep into things, but you had this unshakable feeling that taking back that jacket had been a message. 

We’re just friends. Nothing more.

But if that was true, then why was he looking at your thighs the way he was? Why had he looked at you the way he did when he said you should go with him when he leaves Hawkins? 

He wasn’t your boyfriend… you knew that.

So why couldn’t you shake this undeniably girlfriendish ache in your chest?

“Okay.” Eddie’s voice jolted you out of your downward spiral into your very inconvenient feelings. “Check that out in the mirror, make sure you like it.”

You straightened up, walking on your knees until you faced the mirror leaning against the wall and inspected the tiny, perfect little bat that he’d drawn on the fullest part of your hip.

It matched the bats that now decorated his arm, now surrounded by an angry red halo that bloomed across his skin. Once that bat was inked, it would be something connecting you and Eddie forever- a shared experience, a secret that the two of you would always be in on. 

Suddenly, you realized that in this moment there wasn’t a single thing you wanted more than a matching tattoo with Eddie Munson.

Well, there was one thing. But you had a feeling that wasn’t happening tonight. The tattoo, however…

“I love it.” You looked over your shoulder at Eddie, but his eyes were a little too busy staring at your practically naked behind to meet your gaze. 

“Ahem.”

Breaking free of his trance, Eddie shook his head a tad, which drew a small chuckle from your smirking lips. Eddie couldn’t help but smile too, albeit more shyly than you.

“Distracted?” You teased, unable to hold back your glee at this kind of attention- any kind of attention- from Eddie. 

He sighed, blinking rapidly while he finally met your eyes. There was something new in the way he was looking at you- if you didn’t know better you might call it frustration, but it was an amused sort of frustration. Almost like his eyes were saying “what am I going to do with you?” but through sunglasses tinted with desire. 

You wanted to bottle that, stow it away for emergencies. Wanted to preserve the way that gaze made you feel so that you could experience it over and over again. 

“No.” Eddie murmured through a rueful grin. “Lie down, it’ll be easier to ink the skin while it’s flat.” You did as he instructed, feeling the crinkle of newspaper underneath the skin of your rear. Once again, you found yourself staring up at the water stain on Eddie’s ceiling until his face came into view, looking down at you as he readied the tattoo machine. 

“Are you?” You heard him ask. 

You raised an eyebrow. “Huh?”

The pads of Eddie’s fingers poked and prodded at the skin around where your tattoo would soon have an indefinite spot on your hip, and you wondered if he could tell that your temperature shot up ten degrees each time you felt his hands on you.

“Are you distracted?” he clarified. “Because it hurts less when you’ve got something else to focus on.” 

“Oh.” Suddenly, your mind went blank. Of course, the moment you wanted something to distract you, all ideas turned tail and ran. “Um…”

Snap!

Your jaw dropped as the elastic of your leotard snapped back to your skin from where Eddie had pulled it away with his pointer finger. “Where’d you even get this thing?” 

Now it was your turn to short-circuit.

“Uh-” You stammered, interrupted by the machine beginning to buzz. 

Eddie didn’t wait for you to finish your thought before reminding you what he’d asked. “C’mon, Sweet Tart, where’d you get the leotard?”

You knew he was trying to distract you so you didn’t feel the pain, but you couldn’t help the tensing of your muscles as the needle pierced your skin. You winced, staring at the water stain with a newfound intensity. “Dance store.” you gritted through lips that formed a tight line. 

“Dance store, huh?” You could hear the smile through Eddie’s words. “And why were you in a dance store?”

You huffed out a short, breathy laugh, careful to keep your hip still as Eddie’s needle continued to do its work. “I was making a Flashdance costume. Heard about this Halloween party a few weeks ago, but then we made the tattoo plans… and I had already bought the leotard, so…”

It was disconcerting to speak with Eddie without looking at him; he was a very expressive person, always talking with his hands, always making sure that he looked you in the eyes when you spoke to him. But now he was focused on his work on your hip, leaving your eyes to shift between staring at his ceiling and fluttering closed.

“You were going to wear this thing to a party?” he asked, incredulous. 

Your eyebrows wrinkled over your closed eyes. “I would’ve worn tights under it…” 

He snorted. “That wouldn’t have made a difference.”

You winced, groaning as the needle hit a nerve that particularly stung. “What- ah, shit- what are you trying to say?” 

The buzzing stopped for a moment. “Fuck, you okay?” Eddie’s face leaned into your field of vision, his frizzy brown hair backlit into a halo by the light from the lamp behind him. “You want to take a break?”

You shook your head, taking a mental snapshot of how ethereal he looked like this. “No, you can keep going, I’m fine.” 

Cautiously, Eddie got back to work. A few wordless seconds ticked by before you spoke. 

“What did you mean, ‘that wouldn’t have made a difference’?”

Eddie’s reply was matter-of-fact, but you could have sworn that you heard a hint of protectiveness in his voice when he said, “Tights or no tights, the whole party would have been staring at your ass, Sweet Tart.”

The “T” sound in “Tart” was soft this time. So soft, it was barely there at all, and it almost sounded like he’d just called you sweetheart. If only. You’d give anything to be Eddie’s sweetheart.

Whether he’d meant to blend that consonant or not, it made you brave. “Is that a bad thing?”

A pause. Then, “Is this a trap?”

“Answer the question, would a bunch of people staring at my ass be a bad thing?”

Eddie sighed. “This is definitely a trap,” he muttered, before replying “No, Ace, objectively it would not be a bad thing. But sometimes people view girls differently when they walk around with their asses out.”

“Do you look at me differently when my ass is out?” You were being cheeky, you knew it. 

“No, I don’t look at you differently.” came his instant response, muttered through nearly-closed lips. “I just look at you.”

Nothing could stand against your smile, not even you. “Yeah, that much I could see in the mirror.”

“You don’t sound too upset about that.”

This was different from the flirting you were used to with Eddie. Your regular flavor of flirtation had always been surface-level banter; nothing past a jab here and there, a joke at his expense or a nickname thrown your way. 

Now? You were talking about the way he looked at your body, and the fact that he could tell that you liked when he looked. The two of you were in uncharted territory, and you buzzed under his touch in time with the inky needle at the beautiful unknown of it all. 

“Okay, the outline is done but I’m about to start filling it in.” Eddie warned. “This part hurts a little more. You wanna take a break?”

You nodded. While Eddie jumped up to get you both a glass of water, you sat up on your elbows and peered over at your hip to get a look at your new ink. When you saw it, you gasped so fervently that you startled yourself.

It was perfect. The perfect little bat. 

It wasn’t completely symmetrical. The outline was a tad thicker in certain places than others. But those imperfections made it his. And the fact that it was on your skin made it yours. 

You couldn’t wait to wake up and stare at it like this every single day. 

Eddie returned a moment later with two mismatched cups of tap water. Once you’d both rehydrated, he got to work replacing the needle at the end of the machine with a new one, as well as changing out various attachments and fiddling with a knobby-looking piece until he seemed satisfied with what he’d changed.

 You were impressed with how intensely focused Eddie was on this sort of work; it didn’t seem to be taking him long to get the hang of this. It also didn’t take him long to come up with another topic of conversation that teetered on the line between friendly and flirty.

“Ever played Fuck, Marry, Kill?”

You had not, but the title of the game brought an unexpected chuckle out of you. “Edward Munson, I am a lady! At least take me out to dinner first-”

“I’m going to take that as a no.” Eddie chuckled, and you could hear his deadpan in the tone of his voice. “I say three people’s names and you have to tell me which you’d fuck, which you’d marry, and which you’d kill. Comprende?”

“Uhh-” whatever you’d been about to say was cut short by a harsher buzz than before, accompanied by the aggressive sting of needles on your skin. “Mmh, shit, okay yeah sure let’s play.”

Eddie smiled to himself. He wasn’t sure why he loved the little noises and whispered curses that spilled from your mouth while he tattooed you, but he honestly thought they might be the cutest sounds he’d ever heard. You were taking the pain like a champ- he was actually pretty proud of you in this moment as you remained still through the sting.

“Lars Ulrich, James Hetfield, and Kirk Hammett”

You rolled your eyes. Eddie had ensured over your many rides in his van this summer that every Metallica song he’d played had been an educational experience. Eddie had picked up a cassette of their debut album in July, and ever since he’d become obsessed. Already, he was trying to persuade the other members of his band to figure out how to play The Four Horsemen by ear. 

Needless to say, you knew enough about the band to at least answer the question. 

“Well I’m killing Lars for sure.”

“Poor Lars never stood a chance.”

You grinned, willing the distraction into something great enough to numb the pain. “And I think I’m gonna have to fuck Hetfield.”

“‘Have to fuck Hetfield,’ such a sacrifice.” 

You carefully stretched your arms up to rest above your shoulders, cradling your head on your hands like a pillow. “Hey, if someone’s got to do it, I’ll take one for the team.”

You heard him snort, then after a moment’s quiet he added, “So you’re marrying Kirk Hammett, then?”

“I guess so.”

“What makes Kirk marriage material? Over the other two, I mean.”

You thought about Kirk Hammett’s wild, dark curls. His build. His brown button eyes. The way he looked holding a guitar.

“I don’t know, there’s just something about him.”

Eddie thought about the way he’d been trying to make himself look more like a rockstar ever since he’d first seen the tiny, grainy picture of the Metallica members in the corner of a page of Rolling Stone; he’d been bumming copies off Jeff’s subscription since the seventh grade. How he’d started growing out his hair after seeing Kirk’s long, black mane. He smiled. 

He must be doing something right.

“Alright, Mrs. Hammett,” He quipped, “My turn, hit me with bachelorettes one through three, please.”

You thought over your options, trying to think of women you’d heard him mention before. Wondering if he thought any of them had something in common with you, and praying to God he didn’t kill them.

“Olivia Newton-John,”

Already, Eddie was descending into a fit of giggles. 

“Why are you laughing? She’s pretty!”

Eddie launched into a falsetto rendition of the chorus from Grease’s Hopelessly Devoted to You, and you were instantly fighting the giggles too. 

“Shut up! I’m not done yet. Olivia Newton-John… have you seen Fast Times?”

His response came in a tone of voice that was the vocal equivalent of a side-eye. “Why do you ask?”

“Because I don’t know if you know who Phoebe Cates is.”

“Oh,” Eddie sighed dreamily, “I know who Phoebe Cates is.” 

You rolled your eyes, but chuckled nonetheless. “Okay then- Olivia Newton-John, Phoebe Cates, and Carrie Fisher.”

Eddie barked out a joyous “Ah!” before answering, “Well this is easy, Ace, say goodbye to Newton-John!”

You mock-gasped. “You’re killing Sandy?”

“I’m killing Sandy.”

“That is brutal. She was so innocent, too.”

Eddie squinted at the half-filled tattoo, smirking into his explanation. “Okay, I see the appeal, Ace, I truly do. That outfit at the end is killer.” He paused. Should he say it? Would he be too obvious if he did? 

Ah, fuck it. 

“I’m a sucker for a woman in red shoes, let me tell ya. However-” Eddie quickly glazed over that last sentence, as well as any opening you might have gotten to think about how that might relate to you. “-I’ve gotta fuck Phoebe Cates. Because… y’know-”

“Boobies?” you beat him to the punch.

Eddie confirmed with a matter-of-fact “Boobies.” He glanced up at your face for a moment, curious to see if he could read what you thought of his answers, but you were staring pensively at his ceiling, expression unreadable. “And you have to have known I was marrying Leia the moment she was an option.” 

“You have a thing for Princess Leia?”

“Are you joking?” Eddie asked, incredulously. “How could I not? The woman’s the definition of a spitfire, she kicks ass and takes names. Not to mention, she’s got a thing for scoundrels.” 

You hummed. “Do you think you’re a scoundrel, Eddie?” 

“Well I’m certainly not a scruffy-looking nerf herder, I’ll tell you that much.”

You winced playfully, “A nerf herder you are not… but you are a bit scruffy.”

“You’ve got me there, princess.”

Eddie went silent. The nickname had just slipped out- all this talk of scoundrels and princesses and strong women who weren’t afraid of a fight and before he knew it, he was seeing more similarities between you and Leia than he’d realized were there before. 

Princess had just seemed right. It just slipped out. 

The line between friendship and dangerous territory had been so clearly drawn in Eddie’s mind before tonight. Where had he gone wrong? That once clear line was getting blurry.

Eddie was absolutely convinced that he would probably find a way to single handedly ruin your friendship before he was finished filling in your tattoo- which you would inevitably hate, because it would remind you of the asshole who you used to be friends with before he made things weird between you.

“My turn,” your voice cut through Eddie’s downward spiral, drawing a relieved sigh from him that tickled the skin of your thigh. “Let’s make this round more interesting. Only names of people from Hawkins.”

“Hm, that is interesting.” he mused, the needle inching its way toward the last remaining centimeter of bare skin left within the outline. “Let me think… Chief Hopper-”

You barked out a laugh, “Oh great start, Eds.”

“Chief’s a good looking guy! I don��t know why you’re laughing!” but Eddie was smiling ear to ear, delighted that his awkward apprehension had already begun to dissipate. “Principal Higgins-”

“Are you only going to give me old men as options?”

Eddie was going to do exactly that, because he didn’t want to picture you marrying or- God forbid- fucking any men in Hawkins that you might actually enjoy doing either of those things with. He wasn’t jealous, per se… but none of the shitheads in Hawkins were good enough for you. Eddie wasn’t even good enough for you; not yet, at least. He could picture a future version of himself one day taking his chances with you, once you’d both skipped town and found your way in some thriving city somewhere. 

You were both too good for this place- you were the first person to make him think that about himself.

“What was that security guard’s name at the mall? Average joe looking guy? Quentin? Quincey?”

“Oh, you mean Quinn?”

“Knew his name started with a Q.” Eddie softly bit his bottom lip as he finished the last bit of your bat’s wing. “Hopper, Higgins, and Quinn. Those are your options.”

You groaned. “These choices suck, can I just kill them all?”

“I kinda like it when you go all bloodthirsty, Ace.”

You rolled your eyes before letting them flutter closed. “Ugh, well I’m obviously killing Higgins… he’s never been nice to you and all he cares about are school sports. I guess… I mean if I have to, I’ll fuck Hopper.”

Eddie was beside himself with giggles, “I mean, that’s one way to get out of a speeding ticket.”

“You’re lucky I can’t smack you right now.” You ignored Eddie’s snickering and continued. “And I don’t think I’d mind being married to Quinn, he always smiles at me and asks how my day was. Plus he’s kind of cute, he’s got nice hair.”

Eddie wrinkled his nose. “I don’t see it.”

You laughed, and the jingling tone of your voice suddenly sounded too loud as the buzzing of Eddie’s machine stopped. 

“Alright, Ace,” Eddie announced, leaning back to survey his work. “Check out your new ink.”

You didn’t need to look at it again to know it would be perfect, but you looked anyway. You stood on your sleeping legs and gazed at the little black bat on your hip- it sat beautifully balanced on the skin framed by your high cut leotard, and you knew at once that you’d think of Eddie each time you saw it. This was exactly what you wanted- a daily reminder of exactly how he made you feel, of who he was to you. 

At this moment, it dawned on you exactly what it was that Eddie made you feel. The way you always wanted to be around him, and the way he had become a balloon that inflated your chest every time he made you laugh, and how you knew- just knew- that you’d follow him anywhere if he asked. 

You loved Eddie Munson. You were in love with him. 

And you couldn’t stop smiling like an idiot at that little asymmetrical bat.

Taglist: @emma77645 , @rustboxstarr, @josephquinnsfreckles, @rozxartaki, @sheneedsrocknroll92

[musings-of-a-rose]

Pairing: Lucien Flores x f!reader

Word Count: 5700+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story. 

Notes: I know. We have 2 pictures and a one-sentence movie description. And yet, here I am, being a slut for this man’s characters. @rhoorl, this is for you!

**If you want to be added to the taglist, join here or let me know!

❤If you enjoy the fic, please consider giving me a warm beverage! (It is not required in any way!)

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**Reader is not described

Main Masterlist

Lucien Flores Masterlist

Great. Another dinner party. I swear my roommate is trying to kill me. 

“Come on. It'll be fun, Decaf!”

“You know I hate that nickname, right?”

Claudia chuckles, reaching out to squeeze my arm. “Then stop being so-” she gestures with her free hand “-blah.”

“Ouch.”

Claudia sighs. “You know what I mean. Ever since Dan you just haven’t been..the same.”

I stiffen at the mention of my ex’s name. “He put me through hell, Claudia.”

She nods, placing her hand back on my arm in a placating gesture. “No, of course! He was an asshole! But you shouldn’t stop living your life because of him.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose, exhaling loudly. “I know that. But I just…need some time. And having a dinner party every other weekend is not helping.”

She blows a raspberry with her tongue. “You know you love my parties. Besides, they help you loosen up.”

They don’t. I pretend to drink while my friends get drunk, eventually leaving when the party gets too much to handle. It’s not that they’re mean or anything. I just don’t enjoy being the only sober person in a room full of inebriated people. 

“And besides, Marcos specifically requested your famous tiramisu for dessert!” She gives me a pointed look, a smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth. 

“I don’t-”

“We can go shopping tonight! Maybe Marcos can come over to uh, help.” She winks at me, and that smirk finally pops up.

“I’ll make the dessert but I’m not going. I mean it this time, Claudia.”

I sigh, looking at my reflection in the mirror as I smooth down my simple black dress. I say no and somehow I always end up going. How does she do that?

The doorbell rings and I hear the faint excited tone of Claudia welcoming someone in. I do one last quick hair check and force a smile on my face, taking a moment to look in the mirror to make sure it doesn’t look too forced before I head downstairs, closing my door behind me. 

“Decaf! There you are! Marcos is in the kitchen. Why don’t you help him with the wine he brought?” Claudia turns to put Marcos’s coat and umbrella on the coat stand, Marcos anticipating the rain that’s forecasted to come at some point.

“Wine isn’t really my-”

“There she is!” Marcos pops his head out of the kitchen, flashing me a brilliant smile. “Could you get the wine opener for me?”

Fake smile affixed, I nod. “Sure.” I follow him into the kitchen, turning to glare at Claudia over my shoulder who smiles and gestures towards Marcos before turning back to answer the next knock at the door. 

I grab the automatic wine opener from the drawer, Marcos smiling at me as I hold it up. “Thanks so much, D!” Well, at least it was better than Decaf. Even though I knew he knew where the opener was. 

“Of course. Do you remember how to work this thing?”

“I think so.” He takes the wine opener from me, gently brushing his fingers against mine in a not so subtle hint of flirting. He affixes the opener on the bottle and presses the button, watching as the electric opener does its thing.

It’s not that I don’t like Marcos. He’s attractive, nice, deep hazel eyes, and obviously likes me. He’s smart too, starting up his own bio med tech company with just an idea and a promise. I could be content with him, I guess. If it wasn’t for this odd feeling at the back of my brain about him, something I could never pinpoint exactly. Even so, I’m just not attracted to him no matter how hard I tried. And I promised myself after Dan that I wouldn’t settle just so I didn’t feel lonely anymore. 

“You look beautiful tonight, D. That dress fits you perfectly.”

I smile, knowing it doesn’t quite reach my eyes. “Thanks, Marcos. How’s work? The prototype coming along?”

He smiles and launches into a long winded explanation of what exactly was going on as he follows me around the kitchen, helping me set the food on the table while Claudia pours wine and passes out hors d'oeuvres for the other guests - there are about 12 of us total. He’s cute when he talks so passionately, but again I don’t feel any connection. And the feeling at the back of my brain scratches at me again, but I push it down, putting another smile on my face. 

Dinner starts, an appetizer of vegetable soup ladeled into bowls. Claudia is every bit the chef her mother is and more, making even the simplest dishes delectable. When the roast comes, a recipe passed down several generations in her family, another knock raps at the door. Claudia looks around at everyone, mentally counting before looking at me, her eyebrows raised in a are you expecting someone? Question. I shake my head, Claudia starting to push her chair back but I stand, placing my napkin on the side of my plate.

“I got it, Claud.”

Conversations resume behind me as I leave the room, walking down the hall to the front door. A quick glance out of the peephole shows me a man, silky button up shirt with a print of random brushes strokes stretching across his broad shoulders as he puts a cigarette out on the front steps, pushing his shoe into it. I slide the lock back and crack the door open, his eyes snapping up to my face and the air rushes from my lungs when I meet his gaze. Dark brown eyes bore into mine and he cocks his head slightly to the side, smiling slightly. Oh shit is he wearing two chains?

“Good evening, miss.”

Oh shit I hadn’t said a word.

“Oh. Uh, hi. Can I help you?”

He smiles a little wider, tossing his thumb over his shoulder. “My car stalled and my phone is dead. Could I come in and call someone?”

I don’t entirely believe his story, but something in his eyes makes my brain go fuzzy and a warmth I haven’t felt in a long time start between my legs. 

“S-sure. Come on in.” I open the door wider and he smiles at me, nodding as he walks past. 

“Thanks. I wasn’t sure anyone would be home. Seems a lot of people are away for the weekend.”

“Oh not really. People around here don’t actually live here. It’s their second homes.” In fact, ours was Claudia’s parent’s second home. Which is the only way I could afford a place this nice. 

“Ah. That makes sense.” We stand in the entryway, his eyes scanning my face with that little smile still playing at his lips. It’s several long moments before I realize I’m the one who should be talking. 

“Oh! Uh, can I take your coat….” It’s then I realize he doesn’t have one, not even carrying one. 

He chuckles. “I think I’m good. But thank you for the offer.” The lights hit the chains around his neck and I swallow hard, wondering what it would be like to feel those chains smack me in the face over and over and-

Laughter erupts from the dining hall and..oh shit I never asked his name. 

I tell him my name. “But you can call me D.”

“What’s that short for?”

“I…don’t want to say.”

“That bad, huh? I’ve had some bad nicknames in my time.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. But my name is Lucien.” He extends his hand and I shake it, melting internally as I feel how large his hand his, how warm, and my brain wanders away on the thot train of exactly what I want those hands to do. Another round of laughter from the dining room breaks my trance and I give my head a little shake, dropping his hand. 

“Dinner party,” I gesture down the hall towards the dining room. 

“Ah. I thought you just dressed beautifully for fun.”

I can feel the heat in my cheeks and I glance away, tucking hair behind my ear before looking back at him. “I uh…you said your phone is dead?”

“Oh. Yeah.” He pulls it from his pocket, turning it to show me the blank screen.

“I have a charger. Come, I’ll let you use it and then you can come have some food if you’d like?”

“Oh I don’t want to impose.”

“It’s no bother. Really.” I let my hand rest on his arm, giving it a small squeeze. Who even am I right now?

His eyes flick between mine before he nods. “Lead the way.”

I yell to Claudia that I’m getting my charger and she doesn’t question it, diving right back into whatever story she’s telling as I lead Lucien up the stairs. To my bedroom. What am I doing right now? Before I can think further, I’m at my door, opening the handle and crossing to my night stand, pulling the end out of my own phone and extending my hand. “Here. Let me charge it for you.”

He hesitates a moment before placing his phone in my hand. “I appreciate it, D.”

I plug in his phone and open mine. “Do you have a preferred mechanic?”

“For what?”

“Y-your car?”

“Oh! Right! Uh sure. Can I just?” He makes to grab my phone and I let him, hiding a smirk when I notice that the tips of his ears are red. He taps away at my phone and holds it up to his ear, ordering a mechanic to his car.

“Hey, what neighborhood is this?”

“Destiny Falls.”

“Destiny Falls….great…thanks.” He taps the screen and hands me back my phone. “Thanks.”

I take the phone from him, feeling his fingers touch mine, a chill running down my arm and straight between my legs. “N-no worries.”

He stares at me for a long moment, his eyes moving down my body and back up. “You mentioned dinner?”

“Shit! Sorry! Yeah, uh this way.”

He follows me back out and down the stairs. I can feel his eyes on my ass and so I put an extra emphasis on my walk, an extra sway in my hips and I swear I hear a small groan coming from him. 

“Hhhm?” I ask.

“What? Oh, I uh, I’m hungry.”

I open the door to the dining room, Lucien following me in. Everyone turns their heads to look, Claudia’s eyes moving furiously between us both before she stands. “Who’s this, Decaf?”

I widen my eyes at her, willing her to never use that nickname again. “This is Lucien. His car broke down a couple blocks away and no one else is home. His phone died so he couldn’t call anyone. He’s going to wait here for the mechanic.”

Lucien holds up his hand. “Hi. Thank you for allowing me into your home.”

Claudia smiles, waving him up. “Of course! Are you hungry? Let me get you a plate.”

“Oh I don’t want to impose.”

“Nonsense! Decaf, could you get him a plate and a chair? Marcos, scootch down a bit and we can put Lucien’s chair at the end.”

I look over at Marcos, who’s eyes are narrowed at Lucien, a hard look in them. 

Men.

I roll my eyes and turn towards the kitchen, motioning for Lucien to follow me. “Come on. I need those hands.” It’s not until we’re in the kitchen when I realize what I said.

“So. You need my hands, doll?”

“I meant for the chair, but we’ll see if I can find another use for them.” What the fuck did I just say?

He chuckles, his eyes darkening. “I’m sure you’ll find me more than willing to help with whatever you want me for.”

Fuck, he’s looking at me and he has to know what he said. Lucien takes a few steps towards me, stepping inside the comfortable distance between strangers. Does he know that the heat between my thighs is almost unbearable at this point? I’m tempted to get him seated and go take care of myself before I get into trouble. 

“I-”

“Hey, D. Need any help?” Marcos had come through the door. I jump back, startled. Why do I feel guilty? I don’t owe Marcos anything. 

“Hey Marcos. No, I think we got it.”

“Here, Lucien. Let me show you where the spare chairs are.”

Lucien looks down at me and winks before following Marcos. “After you.” 

I make Lucien a plate of food and bring it out to the table, the conversation still moving forward. I set the plate down and go back to the kitchen to get him a drink when I hear raised voices from the back storage closet where the chairs are. I can’t make it out but they’re definitely arguing. 

Ugh, men. 

Then the storage room door pops open and Lucien exits, carrying a chair. The look on his face is hard, anger etching into his face, but then he sees me and it disappears immediately, giving me a smile. “Got the chair.”

He walks towards me as Marcos takes a moment to close the door. “Everything ok, guys?”

“We’re great, D.”

“Because it sounded like you were fighting.”

“Nope. All good.” Marcos’s voice was flat, not his normal charismatic, charming tone he uses to win everyone over. I don’t believe him but it’s not the time to press him. 

Lucien sits at the table and everyone starts asking him questions, his face animatedly answering all of them. The conversation pauses, everyone stopping to drink or eat or talk between themselves. Lucien shifts in his chair beside me, his leg brushing against mine and I gasp, trying to hide it as a small cough. But the twinkle in his eye tells me he heard me and knew exactly what I did. Not even the glare from Marcos at Lucien could ruin the mood for me. Lucien presses his leg into mine further, taking a sip of wine as he cracks a joke and everyone laughs, the ring on his pointer finger sparkling in the light from the chandelier. I can’t take it any more, the throbbing between my thighs is so intense I swear everyone can hear it. I need to get out of the room. 

“Excuse me. I’ll uh…I’ll go check on your phone.” I hastily stand, pushing my chair back. 

“Do you want help, D?” Marcos asks, halfway to standing himself.

“No! Uh, no. I can check a phone myself, thanks.” 

I walk calmly from the room, waiting until the door closes behind me before I take the stairs 2 at a time, closing my bedroom door behind me and pressing my back against it, feeling the coolness of the wood seep through my thin dress, but it does nothing to dull the ache between my legs. I sit on my bed next to my night stand, legs on the floor and put my hands over my face. Get it together. A quiet knock makes me jerk and snap my head up, moving my hands just enough to speak.

“Who is it?”

“Lucien.”

Shit.

“What can I do for you?”

“I uh, just need to check on my phone?”

Oh right.

“Come on in.”

As Lucien opens the door, I lean back slightly, placing my arms behind me and lean on them. Lucien gently closes the door and crosses the room, his pant leg brushing against my bare knee as he reaches for his phone and presses the power button, light shining in his face. I press my thighs together in what I hope is an inconspicuous manner.

“Only 15%. This phone takes forever to charge. Do you mind if I charge it a little more?”

“Not at all.”

“Thanks.” He sets the phone down and turns his head to look at me, his eyes flicking to my thighs that are currently jammed together so tight even water couldn’t get through them.

“Let me help you with your problem.”

I swallow hard. “P-problem?”

“Yes. Your problem.”

“I..I don’t have…” I lose all track of what I was going to say as his eyes darken, slowly raking over my body before landing on my own darkened gaze, smirking at me. 

“I’m an excellent…helper.”

“I..I d-don’t have a p-problem.”

“No?”

I shake my head, not even convincing myself. But then my voice catches in my throat as he gets on his knees in front of me, his fingers gently swirling a random pattern across my knees and lower thighs. My skin sears where he touches me, and I can feel how soaked I’m getting. He gently wraps his hands around my knees and slowly pushes them open, the cool air not doing much to cool me down. My chest heaves as his eyes move up my legs, his gaze disappearing under my shortened dress, honing in on where I need him. 

“I think I found your problem.”

“Y-yeah?”

He slowly slides his hand up my thigh, my breath coming out in little spurts the higher he gets. His hand disappears under my dress and then I feel him, his finger sliding up the middle of me still over my underwear and my hips jolt, immediately betraying all sense of logic in my brain, the side of me that’s screaming this is a stranger!

“Good news. I can help fix your problem.”

“Y-you can?”

“Do you want me to?”

I’m still propped up on my elbows, gazing down at this man who is kneeling between my legs, hand up my dress, rubbing tiny circles into my inner thigh with the tip of his finger, his eyes nearly black with lust, my logic side screaming at me to tell him no, to tell him to stop, to play it safe.

But I’m tired of being called Decaf.

“Yes.”

He smirks, sliding his hands up further, fingers pinching the fabric of my panties before he slides them down and off, tossing them behind him without looking. He gently places my legs over his shoulders, pushing my thighs open wider with his broad shoulders. 

“Show me,” he says it calmly, but it’s also commanding and I shiver.

I grip the bottom of my dress and pull it up over my hips, exposing myself to him. His eyes move to stare at my cunt, darkening the rest of the way. He moves his fingers to spread me and I gasp at his touch as he takes me all in. 

“Fuck!” I yell out as he quickly dips his head and licks up the center of me, his tongue curling around the bundle of nerves. My thighs try to jam against his head but he is so damn broad that all they do is weakly twitch against his shoulders as he works me open with his mouth, moaning into my cunt.

“Oh shit, oh fuck, I-” words tumble from me in an incoherent jumble. I feel one of his thick fingers swirling around my entrance before he pushes it all the way in, the cool metal of his ring brushing against my skin. My mouth is open in a silent scream, but then he pulls his finger out, adding another, his head lifted to watch as he fucks me with his fingers, the lewd squelches filling the quiet room.

He moves his head back down, gently sucking on my clit and my fingers fly to his head, twisting into his beautiful curls and gripping it as I moan his name, his fingers curling inside of me, slowly stroking at that spot. I can feel myself tightening, pulsing around his fingers as he pushes me closer to the edge. But then he pulls his hand out, his mouth leaving me and I huff.

“What the fu-”

He stands, undoing the buttons on his shirt before taking it off, tossing it on the floor. He’s not 6 pack fit but he’s trim, a small tummy poking out by his pant line that I desperately want to bite. His large hands work open his pants and before I know it, he springs free, heavy and ready.

“Take off your dress.”

It takes me a moment to tear my eyes away from him, nearly ripping my dress in half in my haste to rid myself of it. I unlatch my bra too, tossing it wherever it lands. Lucien pushes my legs open, settling himself between my thighs, pressing his chest against mine. I think he’s going to say something but then all words leave my brain as he pushes inside of me, splitting me open, hand clasped over my mouth as I scream into it, hands flailing around simply because I don’t know what to do with them. He burns me slightly from the stretch but I don’t even care. He bottoms out and just sits there a few moments, his own chest heaving with self-restraint. 

Without pulling out, he thrusts further in, pressing at a spot inside of me I didn’t even know existed. A whiny yelp escapes me before his hand clamps over my mouth again, his eyes finding mine as he continues this slow assault. He tentatively removes his hand, my mouth hanging open as jolt of pleasure radiates out from my cunt with every thrust of his hips. 

“Do you want me to fuck you into this bed, doll?”

I nod frantically, my hands gripping his ass in an attempt to move him faster.

“Tell me.”

“Please. Please Lucien, fuck me into my bed I-” he clamps his hand over my mouth again, his hips picking up to a rapid pace as he fucks into me, lifting my leg over his hip to change the angle. Then he somehow gathers my flailing hands in one of his large ones, pinning them into the bed above my head as he continues to snap his hips into mine, each thrust driving me rapidly towards the edge he had already brought me to earlier. The thin chains he wore brush against my face with every thrust, and I moan into his hand. 

And then I fling myself over the edge, each thrust of his hips carrying me further and further into this bliss. I’ve never experienced this, not in this way, not this intense, rolling waves of pleasure pulsing over my entire body. I feel his hand loosen their grip, no longer over my mouth and they squeeze my hips, flipping me over so quickly my head spins slightly. I bury my face in my blankets and moan as he thrusts into me, his fingers digging into my hips as he sets a rapid pace, pushing my back down to curve my ass up further. To my surprise, I feel one of his hands snake around me, finding my clit and applying the perfect touch, perfect amount of pressure as he drives me towards the edge again at a rapid pace. He pulls me up, my back flush against his chest, his arm wrapping around me to continue touching me while the other holds my hair tightly and I come, his name gasping from my lips as I feel his hips sputter against me, a mix of hard and soft grunts in my ear before he loosens his fingers, letting me drop back to my hands. 

He pulls out with a grunt and I immediately feel light, empty, and a little sore but in a good way. He looks at me and I point to my en suite bathroom, still trying to catch my breath. He disappears for several moments before coming back out, a wet washcloth in hand. He looks at me, still in the same position he left me in and moves behind me, pressing the cloth to my sensitive skin. I twitch and hear a low chuckle as he continues to clean me up. He helps me lay on my back, his finger tracing circles around my nippple before giving it a little pinch. 

“We better get back to your party.”

“My what?” I’d completely forgotten there even was a dinner party happening. He laughs, his hand resting on my stomach.

“Your dinner party. Surely your friends will wonder where you are.”

“Maybe. Or we could just stay here, naked, and see what happens?”

His eyes darken again and he leans forward, pulling a boob into his mouth and sucking on it. I gasp but then he drops it, sitting back up.

“As much as I’d love that, we should probably get back downstairs.”

I’m hurt, but he’s right. Soon enough my friends would send a search party. And I don’t want any of them to see this complete stranger, balls deep inside of me. Although if you asked me when he was actually balls deep, I wouldn’t have cared at all. 

Lucien dresses first and heads back downstairs, winking at me before he closes the door. I quickly rinse off, careful not to wet my hair before trying to fix it to what it was before. I smooth down my dress and hope no one notices the difference. I decide to check the power on his phone before I head down, just to give him an update, expecting it to not be any higher than maybe 20%. But when I light the screen up, my eyebrows furrow together. It was fully charged. Why did he lie? Was it just to fuck me? I wouldn’t have cared if his phone was fully charged. 

I take it from the charger and head back downstairs, sounds of laughter echoing up the stairwell. I sneak in through the back door, grabbing another bottle of wine on my way in as an excuse for taking so long. I realize I have no idea how much time I’d spent upstairs, but people were just finishing eating, so it couldn’t have been too long. 

I feel eyes on me, but none more than Marcos. His eyes bore into me, hardening the longer he looks at me. He glances between Lucien and me as I hand him his phone, a look of realization settling into his features. Before I can say anything he abruptly stands up, mumbling something about a cigarette break before heading out on the back porch. A moment passes and Lucien pats his pockets, asking Claudia if she thinks Marcos will let him bum a cigarette off of him. She smiles and tells him he definitely will. Lucien gets up and excuses himself, heading out the back door to find Marcos. 

Claudia keeps looking at me, her eyes narrowing but a smile forming, like she’s starting to piece together what happened. Before she can ask, I excuse myself, heading towards the backyard to find Lucien and Marcos. But when I open the door I hear raised voices coming from further in the backyard. 

“You need to fucking leave, Lucien.”

“I’m not going anywhere until you give me what’s mine, Marcos.”

“It’s not yours anymore, I told you that!”

“That’s because you fucking stole it from me, asshole!”

What the hell are they talking about?

“You say stole, I say borrowed-”

“It took me forever to find you and now you don’t even have the balls to admit you stole from me?”

“Fuck you!”

“No, fuck you!”

I hear the sound of fists landing and I close the last several steps, their fighting bodies moving into my view.

“What the fuck is going on here?”

They both stop, pushing back from each other and looking at me. Marcos tries to put on his normal charming smile, but that nagging feeling about him roars inside of me. “Hey, D.”

“Don’t hey me, Marcos. What’s going on?”

“Oh uh Lucien and I were just messing around, right?” He looks at Lucien who glares back at him.

“No. We were not. You stole from me.”

Marcos narrows his eyes. “And how could I have stolen anything from you?”

“You were my intern! You worked on my project and then you stole it to start your little start up!”

“Wait, what?” I look between them, confused. 

“D, he’s crazy. He’s just some guy off the street. You don’t even know him-”

“Oh she knows me plenty.” 

My jaw drops as Marcos looks between us. 

“Wait…did…did you sleep with her when you went to get your phone?”

I can feel my cheeks heating up but Lucien speaks before I do. “Yeah. I did. I fucked her good. Had her screaming my name. Begging me to fuck her.”

Marcos’s mouth opens and closes, anger flashing in his eyes and I can feel tears pooling in mine, a mixture of anger and embarrassment as Lucien continues to speak.

“Doesn’t feel good, does it Marcos? To have something you want so badly taken away from you? I knew the moment I saw you look at her that you wanted her. So I fucked her first. You take something from me, I take something from you.”

Marcos stands there fuming, looking furious at Lucien, but no longer even looking my way. “You can’t just come in here-”

“I can. And I came in her too.”

SLAP!

My hand stings with the force of contact but I swallow any cry of pain. Lucien brings his hand to his cheek, turning to finally look at me, an odd expression on his face.

“D, listen. Marcos isn’t who you think he is. He-” 

WHAM!

Marcos’s fist collides with Lucien’s face and he stumbles backwards. He rallies quickly, swinging for Marcos. I yell for them to stop but I may as well have been talking to the wall. The men fight, throwing themselves at each other, yelling insults that I can only halfway make out. But then Lucien pins Marcos to the ground, pounding on his face. I run up to him and grab his arm. 

“Stop!”

Lucien looks at my hand on his arm and then at me before glancing down at Marcos who had just passed out. He looks back at me, his face softening as he lowers his fist, slowly standing up with a series of tiny grunts.

“D, I’m sorry, I-”

“Did you just fuck me to get back at him?”

He’s quiet for longer than I’d like, and I hate the tears that start to fall. I’m not delusional. I know nothing would come of it. I didn’t even know the guy. But a part of me had held onto some idea that maybe it was something more, could be something more. 

“Not…not at the end.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He gestures to a couple of chairs. “Can I explain?”

I sit, I probably shouldn’t have but good decisions went out the window a long time ago. Lucien sits in the chair across from me, shifting his weight forward to be closer to me. 

“Years ago, I hired Marcos as my intern. His name then was Juan. He helped me with my research. I had a bio tech lab and was working on some ground breaking tech. But then one day, I come in and everything is gone. He’d stolen everything, all of my years of research just gone. And then I see his face being put up as the new man to watch in all of the science and tech magazines and I see it, my tech being claimed by this imposter.” Lucien spits on Marcos’s body. 

That explains the weird vibe I’d always gotten from him. He was a lying cheat. 

“So what about tonight?”

“Ah. Well it had taken me years but I finally tracked him down. And every time I tried to get close, to get him to confess he would somehow weasel out of it. But then I saw him connected to a social media post about a dinner party. I hired a PI to figure out where and I..well I knocked on the door.”

“So your car?”

“Isn’t really broken down, no.”

“Your phone was fully charged.”

“It was already at 87% when I first plugged it in.”

I sit with this information for a few moments. “So what about…me?”

Lucien’s face softens as he looks at me. “Then there was you. I didn’t expect to see anyone here I actually was intrigued by, but there you were. I pushed it aside to get to Marcos but then I saw how he acted around you, the way he looked at you, the pure desire in every inch of him. So I flirted and got close. You were hot and I figured I could fuck you to make him get super pissed. But then you took your dress off so easily and I could tell you weren’t really that kind of person and I just… lost myself a bit when I was inside you. By the end, I was hating myself for using you. I…I’m sorry.”

Well. There you have it. I was right about Marcos being too charming for a reason, a reason he had now confessed to, recorded on Lucien’s phone no doubt. I’m mad, I want to hit him but I also get it. And damn was he the best fuck I’ve ever had. 

I lean forward, curling my finger around the chains on his neck as I pull him closer. 

“Wanna go for round 2?”

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[jewishvitya]

Rowling had nothing to do with Legacy and I think most people forget that. She wasn't even consulted. WB bought the license and the devs did whatever they wanted. "Sirona" is a beautiful, feminine Celtic name associated with healing, and "Ryan" is an extremely common Irish surname. I feel like people are looking for reasons to be offended, especially when it comes to trans characters and antisemitism. The goblins are not and have never been Jewish stereotypes. They're a fictional race. They're based on Tolkien's goblins and old English folklore dating back to the 1400's, where they have always been depicted and small, ugly, and greedy. Rowling herself was shocked by the antisemitism rumors and staunchly stated they weren't true. Just like the rumors saying lycanthopy is a metaphor for AIDS. Just... who thinks of this stuff?

What's really sad is people have argued that Sirona was never meant to be trans, but a male character that the devs rendered to look "more feminine" at the last minute. People have made fun of her voice and said it's "too masculine", so obviously WB just hired a man to voice her and changed her gender later. But that's not true! Her VA is actually a trans woman and the backlash against the character must be devastating to the VA.

Okay, so, I don't think you're here in good faith. You're here to be dismissive. But I'll reply anyway, just in case I'm wrong.

One thing at a time.

I'll start with the one point you made that I agree with: the VA. She doesn't deserve to have her voice scrutinized and criticized. That's horrible, no one deserves that. I did see - and share - the misinformation that Sirona Ryan was voiced by a man, and I regret that. I edited it out of my post as soon as I knew, but this is tumblr and unedited versions do go around. I hope more people will see that corrected, and leave the VA's voice alone.

Now for the mess you threw at me.

Hogwarts Legacy is related to Rowling by virtue of existing within the world she created. It's still her goblins, since she gave her permission to create this, and she let it be added to the canon.

Rowling's world is the context.

I don't care that she wasn't consulted about the details, that just means the other creators are bigots too. When you build within a world that has such large issues, where so much time and effort was devoted to highlighting and criticizing those issues, and you create a story that continues all the problems from the original canon and adds to them - that's a choice that I have a right to criticize. They had the benefit of being a google search away from knowing how to be respectful about all of this, and they did the opposite.

Sirona Ryan IS a beautiful real name, that's not the issue. I already wrote this post where I tried to explain the reaction, but I accept that maybe my feelings about this name come from cultural ignorance. If that's the case, I apologize, and I'd love to be corrected.

My real issue with the game is the antisemitism.

You say "folklore dating back to the 1400's" as if that's far too old to be influenced by antisemitism. Fun fact: antisemitism is older than goblins. Antisemitism is literally millennia old. At least as old as Christianity, which is the root of many antisemitic ideas. It's older than many European mythological creatures, and it infuses a lot of European folklore and mythology, down to the depictions of witches with their pointy hats. Stories about goblins being used as a way to dehumanize Jewish people is not new. And using a fictional race of non-humans as stand-ins for real groups of marginalized people - either intentionally or not - is a very common practice in storytelling. Most fantasy races have those roots to them. But even then, where, in the original lore of the goblins, did they control the banks?

It doesn't matter if Rowling was shocked by the claims of antisemitism and it doesn't matter if she denied them. The reality of her story is that she created an antisemitic depiction. I can believe that it wasn't her intention, but that doesn't mean it's not what she did.

You don't get to look at an antagonistic group that embodies EVERY SINGLE TRAIT THAT WAS ASSIGNED TO MY PEOPLE TO DEMONIZE US and tell me that's not antisemitic.

I already made this list, but let's do it again. All antisemitic traits that can be found in Rowling's goblins. I'll break it down to the original book canon, the movies, and the game.

Books - Rowling's actual canon:

Short, with clever swarthy faces, sallow skin and pointed beards

A guttural language

Ruthless and known for their greed

Pursue someone who owes them money with violent threats

Have cultural differences that make them impossible to trust

Harmed by dark wizard but still suspected to support them

Only worth associating with for their metalworking and control of the economy

She placed a goblin's rebellion in 1612 - the same year as the events that led to the Fettmilch uprising, which resulted in pogroms and Jewish deaths. Rowling stated that wars and political unrest parallel between the muggle world and the wizarding world as the two societies influence each other

The most prominent named goblin character, Griphook, betrays Harry. Harry is a Christ allegory - literally sacrifices himself to save everyone, and then comes back to life

Movies:

Hooked noses - the best known antisemitic feature

A six pointed star in the building they chose for the bank - I don't believe this was intentional, but it's an unfortunate choice and they could have covered it

Here end the parts I blame on Rowling directly. And the game was built on these foundations.

Game:

A historical time frame of pogroms, where our people were murdered in large massacres that often had support from authorities

Explicit ties between the goblins and the dark wizards

Aiming to undermine wizard society - the goal assigned to us in every antisemitic conspiracy theory

Kidnapping of children for their magic - literally just look up blood libel

A character says the goblins can't appreciate art. It’s absurd to say considering the quality and coveted status of goblin-made artifacts. In the real world, this is a claim that was made against Jews by the Nazis (and it targets other groups hated by white supremacists as well)

A ram’s horn artifact that strongly resembles a silver plated Shofar - a Jewish ritual item. Said horn is from 1612, from the same rebellion mentioned above. According to the item’s description, it was blown to rally the goblins and to annoy witches and wizards. It was stuffed with gorgonzola to mute it, a specifically non-kosher cheese (most kinds of cheese are kosher). It's so disrespectful I still don't have the words to fully convey it

Whether you want to acknowledge it or not, those traits became associated with Jewish people as a group through hateful propaganda. Putting all of them on a non-human race isn't better. It just adds to the dehumanization of it. It's not just Rowling's fault. That's shared by every single person who had a hand in the creation of this story. For the issues in the game, I blame the people named here more. I see no reason to extend grace to far-right bigots.

But to focus on Rowling. You brought up lycanthropy. You seem to think we made up the idea that it's a metaphor for HIV. We didn't. She said that. In the ebook Short Stories From Hogwarts of Heroism, Hardship, and Dangerous Hobbies - she said that. She said it before that, on Pottermore.

Lupin's condition of lycanthropy (being a werewolf) was a metaphor for those illnesses that carry a stigma, like HIV and AIDS. [...] The wizarding community is as prone to hysteria and prejudice as the Muggle one, and the character of Lupin gave me a chance to examine those attitudes.

This is a quote of her thoughts. It still exists on Lupin's page on her Wizarding World website.

And it's actually a pretty good example of how it's absolutely possible to be awful about depicting a stigmatized minority through a fantasy stand-in.

HIV+ people are stigmatized through no fault of their own. But in her books, it seems reasonable for the wizards to fear werewolves. And she did that, she made prejudice reasonable. We have: Remus Lupin, a named werewolf who is good and kind, and tries to avoid hurting people. Even then, he nearly does cause harm more than once. He turns in front of our heroes and spends a night loose in the forest. He tells the heroes that as a student, he almost bit people while out with his friends. So even while well-intentioned, he's a danger. That means we don't have a single safe HIV+ allegory in her work. The other named werewolf is Fenrir Greyback, who intentionally targets children to turn them young and raise them to hate the society they came from - which is fucking homophobic, whatever she intended, because of the way HIV gets associated with homosexuality. And the rest? A whole community of werewolves who side with the Death Eaters.

Did she mean to make a whole community of marginalized people into wizard Nazis? I DON'T CARE. SHE DID THAT.

I don't care to argue about her intentions while writing the text. I can't read minds. I can read the text she wrote. I can see what was put into the game that was added into her world. I can read about the history of my people and their persecution. I can see how disturbingly similar this game's story is to the propaganda that led to my grandparents suffering through the holocaust and losing their families to it.

If she cared about the antisemitism in her works, she wouldn't just act horrified and say "No, of course I wasn't being hateful to Jews!" - she'd look at whatever she lets people put into her IP, to prevent further harm. I do blame the other writers of the game more than I blame her for that plot, but it's not better that she gave her approval without being consulted. It's her IP, it carries her name, she gets royalties, it's her responsibility.

And at the very least, she doesn't care about antisemitism enough to worry about minimizing harm. I know that, because I know her friends. I know TERFs and Gender Criticals. Rowling saw an anti-trans event with white supremacist speakers, and she chose to criticize the counter-protesters. She went out to eat with Maya Forstater and Helen Joyce, who participated and spoke in events organized by Posie Parker - who explicitly includes far right groups in her events, and shares platforms with white supremacists. Rowling bought merch from Posie Parker. She wrote about Magdalen Berns as a "brave young feminist" - as if she didn't push the antisemitic George Soros conspiracy theory and share Breitbart articles. She praised MATT WALSH. The people she associates with now, read from Mein Kampf in their rallies.

She didn't put the antisemitism in the game, but she's very comfortable with antisemitism. Don't tell me she was horrified by the idea that her goblins could be called antisemitic. She just didn't want the label applied to her. If you willingly associate with Nazis, you're a Nazi. And enough of her friends don't seem to mind that.

I stand by what I said: playing this game, even pirated, is like printing out an antisemitic caricature and hanging it on your wall, saying “well, I didn’t pay the artist, I just like this art.”

[glitterjay]

ENEMIES TO LOVERS | 이희승.LHS

summary: heeseung finds himself drawn to the girl he initially clashed with. two competitive rivals notice the sparks that fly every time they encounter each other. beneath the surface of their hatred lies a hidden chemistry drawing them closer despite their efforts to resist. could love possibly fire up from sparks?

genre: feuding families, a little bit of everything (smut, fluff, angst), enemies to lovers

warnings: will contain smut (slight), heeeseung and reader are in their late 20s, more to be added.

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taglist (open): @drunkhee @jvjsssnaa @minniejenseo @slut4hee @nyxtwixx @m1sskz @tanisha2060 @heelee-01 @enhypenlovre @rainingleaves @hommyy-tommy @ramenoil @yorukoushii @pockettwinzz @samouryed @capri-cuntz @jjklvr9 @minjaexvz @simhinata @nurihihi @aaa-sia @yunhoswrldddd @viciousdarlings @moasworld @crimnalseung @deobitifull @arunabrak @seunghancore @kookify @illvding @llvrhee @hoonheepretty

heeseung felt his entire world shatter before his very eyes. you were chattering before his very eyes. In the time you had spent together, he realized that this entire time, he had been feeling some type of attraction toward you.

you were funny, understanding, and strong—the last being something Heeseung admired a lot. to see you crying to such an extent was breaking his heart into a million pieces. there was absolutely no way he would do something like that. but would you believe his words?

"it wasn't me," he said in his head.

"it wasn't me. say it out loud. say it!"

at this point, you were shaking with anger. why wasn't he saying anything? why wasn't he fighting back? you knew him well enough to know that he would stand up for himself if something didn't match his morals, let alone having to do with him being accused of something he didn't do.

so why was he just standing there?

it soon became too much for you to bear with. you started yelling and eventually hitting his chest, and all he did was stand there, taking it all. it was the least he could do, and he understood the anger you were feeling.

"say something, heeseung!"

"it wasn't me!"

finally, the words that had been echoing in his head were able to jump out. "it wasn't me, okay? god, why would i even do something so fucked up?"

did you really believe him, or did you just want him to say what you wanted to hear? as if he could read your mind, heeseung grabbed you by the shoulders, pulling your body closer to his. the closeness forced you to look directly at his face, but you avoided his eyes.

"listen to me. you've been spending nearly every day and every hour with me. if we're not together, im stuck in my office working, or i'm with my friends. you know I don't like associating with a lot of people; you knew this!"

it wasn't his intention to raise his voice as he spoke, but the feeling of desperation was taking over him. he wanted you to believe him. without thinking, you raised your hands and cupped his face. heeseung relaxed his muscles, and the grip on your shoulders loosened, but his hands lingered there.

he sighed at your touch and spoke again. "someone is trying to get us to stop working together, and this is clear evidence of it. I have not, and in no way will I ever betray you that way."

still in silence, your eyes focused on his moving lips. the world around you had stopped, but you had been able to comprehend what he said. you made the bold move to brush your thumb across his bottom lip once it stopped moving and leaned in.

you had kissed the man who was supposed to be your greatest enemy. and what makes it worse is that heeseung kissed you back.

© glitterjay | tumblr

[peach-and-bugs]

teen nat with “You look exhausted, you know that?” ?? (maybe pre-crash)

❤️Blame Game - Natalie Scatorccio (1996 pre-crash) x fem!Reader❤️

Fanfiction master list

disclaimer: don't repost my work. I only post on Tumblr and on Ao3. anything else is stolen and should be removed immediately

GIF by gayliennn

Summary: Natalie seeks refuge from the rain (and possibly comfort) after the death of her dad...

Warnings: canon themes: dead parents, spousal abuse, guns, general angst

Word Count: 2,539

A/N: Hello Lovelies! it's been a minute. I was so busy this past semester, but I'm now on summer break and I want to get back to work on my writing with requests for dialogue prompts with characters with Yellowjackets! here's my first dabble at writing for the fandom with pre-crash Natalie! I really hope you enjoy it, and as always, feel free to leave questions or comments in my comments or ask box, and happy reading ❤️

"Nat" Natalie Scatorccio Tag List:

General Tag List: @summergeezburr

-❤️-

It had been raining for most of the afternoon by now, which you had found strange given the sun being so high when you'd left school. But the rain persisted into the night and you now found yourself sitting at your desk, scribbling away in your diary about your day and just general thought and feelings. You'd found that even when you had a mundane day, writing was still good. It helped keep up the habit for when you needed the outlet. 

You started to run out of things to say and instead began to chew at the eraser of your pencil. One of your cassettes played quietly in your walkmen, but you could still hear the rain’s muffled tapping on the roof over the song. However, as you moved to start scribbling again, maybe adding doodles to your entry instead of more words, your attention was caught by a different tapping. It was sporadic and out of tune with the rain and it paused as though some other element controlled it. 

Cautiously, you paused your song and listened. The tapping started again, clicking against the glass of your window. When there wa another pause you made your way over to it and opened it with caution. You paused again, licking your lips and biting your cheek. Why did this feel like the start of every slasher movie? Maybe youde watched those Halloween movies too many times. 

“Hey, y/n! That you?” a familiar voice broke through the rain. Without any more hesitation, your head poked out of the open window, hands gripping the windowsill as the rain began to wet your hair. 

“Nat?” you called in a whispery yell. “What the hell are you doing here? It’s the middle of the night?” thanks to your porch light you could see her fidgeting, hugging herself as she crumpled under the rain. She opened her mouth like she wanted to talk, but stopped herself. 

“Can I come up?” she said instead. You hesitated again, head going back inside as you checked the time. It was nearly one in the morning by now. Your father would be furious if he found out, but it was Nat after all, it was pouring and you knew she had to have walked here. You huffed, your brows knit as you nodded, ducking your head back into the house ans shutting the window behind you before running downstairs as quietly as you could. You quietly unlocked your front door, pausing after it clicked open to listen for the sound of any unexpected movement. When nothing turned up you opened the door just as Natalie stepped onto your front porch. 

“Be quiet and wipe your feet,” you insisted in a hushed voice, eyes already training on the staircase once more. You unconsciously took her hand tight and sprinted as quietly as you could up the stairs and ducked into your room, shutting it with the softest click you could mister. You shut your eyes, listening against the door for any sign you might have woken your parents, but once you felt it was all clear you relaxed with a sigh and turned back to look out on your room. 

“You didn’t have to let me up if I was gonna get you in trouble,” Natalie mumbled. She’d begun to fidget where she stood, her thumb stroking over the strap of her soaked backpack. She didn’t move from where she stood and seemed to avoid making eye contact with you or anything in the room for that matter. 

“It’s running outside and you’re soaked,” she shrugged, eyes turning down to her dripping shoes. 

“I don't wanna put you out’s all,” your eyes transfixed on her in the quiet. She didn’t look at you for any of it but in the short time you stood awkwardly in front of you you could tell something was wrong. You knew Nat well. Well, maybe not this Natalie specifically, but you knew the Natalie from middle school who had sleepovers at your house nearly every Saturday and loved playing board games with your family and stopping for secret ice cream with you on the way home from school. That all had been some time ago, but you knew her, and even with all that she’d hanged that Natalie was still in her. You saw her right then. 

“You doing ok? You seem off,” you inquired, slowly approaching her like she was a skittish dog. She looked up finally, slightly geared by the sudden proximity change, but she relaced as your reached for her fidgety hand. She let you take it, watching the tenderness in your motion. She hated being fragile. 

“My dad’s gone,” she breathed, biting her lower lip. She’d been doing it for a while now. The skin of it was dry and chapped, red from repeated tearing away at the layering resulting in a swollen tenderness. 

“I’m sorry. For good this time?” you weren't sure that was the right question to ask. Natalie’s dad always had a tendency to come and go, but given her demeanor either it was over or something else was going on. She sniffed heavily and let out a dry laugh as she jerked her eyes from you. 

“Yeah, well seeing he put a bullet in his head I’d say it’s for good,” she pressed her lips together, sucking her teeth at the bitter sting, and exhaled hard through her nose. She swallowed hard before she shakily turned her eyes back to you. She tisked at the expression on your face and felt your hand tighten around hers. “Fuck, I'm sorry, I shouldn't unload on you like that I-”

“Hey, no it’s ok. It’s fine. I’m sorry,” you reached and grabbed hold of her other hand ans squeezed tight, forcing an awkward smile. “Do you want clothes to change into? You’re sopping wet,” she shook her head but you tisked. 

“I'm getting you clothes ans you aren't arguing,” you turned from her and sauntered to your dresser, wrassling around in your drawers for anything comfortable for her to wear. Unbeknownst to you, Natalie was looking down at her hand, squeezing them into fists before she rubbed her sweaty palms against her jeans. She never liked clammy hands. You turned back to her eventually, shoving the pile of clothes in her hands. “Batheroom’s where it’s always been,” you pointed to the door that connected to your room.  

“And feel free to dry off with a towel. Are you spending the night?” you rushed most of what you said, adrenaline pumping through you at an alarming rate as you tried to keep your cool. Nat eventually nodded awkwardly and made her way to the bathroom. The click of the door allowed you to let go of the hot breath that had been boiling in your stomach. Her dad was gone? Like, gone, gone. That was a good thing, wasn’t it? Well, maybe not given how upset she seemed. You never would have thought of Nat to be the type to mourn her father, cruel as that may sound. And why had she come to your house of all places? She hadn’t talked to you in years. She’d gotten so committed to the soccer team that she’d moved away from you but here she was now, dropping the bomb that her dad had killed himself.

“You alright?” Nat opening the door and talking to you had pulled you out of your head. She’d dried her hair off with a towel and was now draping it over the floor to sit her bookbag on top of it to dry. Her brown hair was tousled and knotted from what you assumed had been her vigorous rubbing to dry off. She’d folded her clothes in a pile that she added next to her bookbag and stood awkwardly barefoot in a pair of old shorts and a baggy tee shirt that used to be your dad’s. 

“Yeah, I'm good,” you smiled, standing again. “You want some socks? The hardwood gets cold,” you said as you actively moved to grab a pair of fuzzy socks you'd gotten for Christmas from one of your drawers. You shoved them in her hands before she could decline. She held them for a moment, unmoving despite the gentle sway of her thumb over the cotton material before leaning over to put them on. As she did that you took her clothes and draped them over the footboard of your bed to air out. 

“Are you staying over?” you asked again. You knew if she said no you'd still keep her here. You didn't want to worry about her out in the rain again. 

“Only if that's alright,” you smiled with a single nod.

“Of course. It can be like before,” you chuckled, turning to adjust things on your bed. You might have caught the tiny flicker in Nat’s lips had you been looking. But you hadn’t and climbed into bed instead, shimmying under the covers to get comfortable. Nat slowly followed but lay on her back over the blankets, folding her hands on her chest. You only watched her for some time, not knowing what subject to broach, if any at all.  

“You look exhausted, you know that?” you eventually murmured. Nat turned her head to you and let out a warm sigh. Her eyes seemed sunken, bags growing dark under them. You wondered how much she’d been sleeping. 

“That kinda happens when-” she stopped herself abruptly. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No…” her voice lulled to a whisper as she paused. That pause felt like it lasted hours till she sniffled. “Maybe a little,” she swallowed thickly. You scooted in closer to her, reaching your hand out t her ever so lightly to wordlessly offer it to you. 

“It was my fault,” you shook your head. 

“Nat. you’re seventeen,” she sniffled loudly and quickly dried her tears just as they fell from her eyes. She didn’t look at you, her eyes transfixed up at your ceiling in a feeble attempt to keep herself together. 

“I grabbed the gun. He wouldn't have had it had I not,” 

“It’s not your fault,”

“He was beating on my mom again because I had a boy in my room,” frustrated disdain filled her tone. “And it’s not like anything was happening! I mean, it was just Kevyn,” she scoffed at his name. Unbeknownst to Natalie, you knew the boy had the biggest crush on her known to man. How she didn’t realize it baffled you, but that wasn’t relevant at the moment. 

“But I grabbed the gun. And I left the safety on and he took it from me and fucked around with it,”

“Natalie,” you kept your voice low. Her breathing had started to flair as she fully cried now. You took her hand, squeezing it tight. She didn’t look at you but unconsciously clenched both her fists around your fingers, and brought them to her chest, pressing it tight to her in some kind of attempt to ground yourself maybe. “Natalie, Who had the gun?” she managed to get out. She sniffled again. She would have called it pitiful, but you basked in the sound. Not in a weird way, but because she could trust you with this. She shook her head. 

“Did you shoot him?” her breath shook as she took a deep inhale.

“He did,” 

“So, who’s fault it that?” she turned her head away, squeezing her eyes shut as she covered her mouth to suppress a sob. She let go of your hand and turned onto her side, leaving only her heaving shoulders in your view. You scooted out of bed, moving slowly behind her. She flinched as your fingertips made contact with her back, but you found she quickly relaxed under her touch as you began rubbing your hand in circles over the surface area. 

“Nat, it was his fault,” you murmured. She continued to cry, curled into a ball on the edge of your bed. You weren't even sure if she was hearing any of what you said, but you didn’t feel you should prioritize that. You stayed that way with her for a while, till you maneuvered onto your side, laying behind her and wrapping your arm around her instead of continuing to massage your back. You felt her take your hand again, bringing your fingers close to her face.  She seemed to bury her face in your hand in some feeble attempt at self-soothing. 

Eventually, she turned around in your arms and found herself up close and personal with you. Thanks to the dim light she prayed you wouldn't see the red in her cheeks burning from the sudden proximity. She let go of your hand quite abruptly. 

“Sorry,” she mumbled, eyes darting away. You only smiled and nodded, scanning her puffy, tear-streaked face. Without giving it much thought, you reached forward, brushing loose, now dry hair from her face. Your fingertips skimmed over her forehead with a delicateness Nat couldn't find herself familiar with. 

“You look exhausted, you know that?” she shrugged but locked into your gaze. 

“I’ve always been like that,” she forced a chuckle but found you frowning. You thumbed away leftover tears from her eyes ans found your hand lingering. When you noticed you made the motion of pulling away from her but she grabbed your hand, holding it where it was. She bit her bottom lip, her brows knitting with overwhelming consideration till she hissed out the words “fuck it” and leaned it. 

She’d let go of your hand in exchange for the back of your neck, which fit quite comfortably against the flat of her palm. She’d shut her eyes hard and had kind of clumsily crashed into you, definitely taking you by surprise. For a second it was quite startling, but you didn’t panic or pull away. But once you got over the shock, you relaxed into her, smiling against her lips, which given their chapped nature left a metallic taste against your tongue. 

You’re hand, which had been hovering above the covers after being abandoned slowly settled on Natalie’s hip as you shut your eyes and you felt her exhale through her nose as the air flittered against your cheek. Yet, just as fast as she’d moved in she was done, leaving your lips to chase after her. Her eyes were wide and blown when you opened yours again and she seemed to have a grimace on her face. 

“Shit, was I that bad?” you sucked in a breath through your teeth. Her grimace subsided and she shook her head, now looking confused. 

“No. I was more so waiting for you to be pissed with me,” she admitted. You smiled and laughed quietly. 

“Why would I be mad?”

“I dunno, I kinda just did it and I didn’t ask-”

“Didn’t ask if I liked girls?” 

“Do you?” she chuckled again, scooting closer to her. 

I dunno, I might. I mean, I might at least like one girl,”

“That's so fucking corny,” Natalie finally smiled, letting go of a laugh in her throat. 

“Yeah, but I got you to smile finally,” you squeezed her hip. “I consider that a win in my book,”

[moyokeansimblr]

Update

Not feeling so hot and I'm not going to do anything impulsive at 8PM on a Friday evening but

here is a link to a sfs folder with ALL of my content that's currently only hosted on patreon.

I want to add individual sfs links to the tumblr posts but that's a lot and I'm now regretting never adding alt dl links this whole time... and sorry I don't think the downloads in the sfs folder are in order... it also might be some other things, like fixed meshes or stuff. tbh I just added everything I've made after April 3rd 2023 since that was the last time I uploaded anything to sfs.

I guess while I'm here... I was going to wait until after I finish up the last of my active requests (probably by Monday, I'm almost done) but I desperately need a break from CC. I sent a group message on the 17th to my $4 and $6 patrons encouraging them to cancel, but I know not everybody knows patreon even has dms so maybe you'll see this post and I'll reach out again in the coming days so nobody is wasting their money. I am so immensely burnt out and I need to not create for a while. This is completely my own fault, nobody made me work on CC for 8-10 hours 5 days a week for the last several months and I fully knew it wasn't sustainable ages ago but I kept doing it because it made me feel good, until it didn't. Quite honestly, even before I sent the group message the instant wave of relief I felt just having made the decision to take a break... that caught me off guard but just confirmed I need this. I do feel really awful about it because I feel like I'm letting people down but at the same time I don't want to hate creating which was already happening. That being said, I don't know how long the lull in CC is going to be, and if you're only following me strictly for CC I apologize. As said I am still finishing up one request I still had, I'm about 75% done with that as of this post. But that's gonna be it for a while.

There is a part of me that wants to stop using patreon completely and unpublish my creator page (which is what I'm not going to impulsively do tonight without properly thinking it through...since there are positives like how easy it is to download files and whatnot) but I'd again encourage not only those who joined the $4 and $6 tiers but also the $2 tier to cancel so that you aren't wasting your money. If I did do this I would definitely do the individual sfs links on everything first. I'd not just leave you guys unable to download my stuff.

So, what does that mean for this blog? I'll spare ye, impatient readers, who have already read a lot because I ramble⬇️

Well, as of posting this I still have THREE HUNDRED AND TWENTY FOUR Strangetown posts in my queue. And I'm not tired of playing that.

I'm looking forward to having an opportunity to do all of the things I've been neglecting. I'm finally going to go through the subfolder within my downloads of everything I'm downloaded the last few months and decide if I wanna keep it in my game or not. And finish default replacing everything. And all my other various little projects I haven't been doing.

Also, I want to start playing Veronaville 😮I've already started downloading lots from kattaty to replace the in-game ones, and I found a cool replacement for the neighborhood map. I am leaning towards making a new sub-blog for this so that you don't have to try and follow Strangetown/LFT posts and Veronaville/ALT posts at the same time. I've only ever played the Veronaville sims for like one day as part of a super failed megahood years ago so I'd like to get to know them.

So basically, I guess I'm a gameplay blog for now? Until I want to create anything again anyways, but I don't know when that will be.

I don't know how to end this post... I'm sorry for the disappointment, but thank you so much for enjoying my stuff 💛💛