#i haven’t read it yet but it’s sitting on my shelf

[bookshelf-dust]

📚 Love fantasy, thrillers, and a romance subplot. If it’s with royals and shit, even better. And magic? Sign me up!

slumber party shenanigans

📚 please don’t put chocolate in your popcorn—tell me what you like and i’ll give you a book recommendation (i am a self-proclaimed bookworm and i will do my best to think of something)

okay okay okay here i go:

Ninth House by Leigh Bardugo. badass female main character. fantastical themes. magic!! mystery/thriller elements. slight slight romance subplot but it’s more so something you have to wonder about. it tugs at you.

and

There’s Someone Inside Your House by Stephanie Perkins. thriller/slasher. romance subplot. keeps you guessing and makes you doubt everything all the time. makes you feel lots and lots of feelings. good range of characters to root for.

this just turned into me pushing some of my favorite books on you. leigh is my favorite author too. hopefully these sound interesting to you <33

[surskip]

lately ive been going through my bookshelf so I can eventually sort it out, and most recently ive been reading the hunger games the past couple days. i just started the last one. apparently there’s a new one that just came out? wow.. i remembered liking the books a lot when the movies were coming out (though i was a staunch The books were better.. movie hater at the time) and they’re fine. like a 6.5-7/10. so far all of them are pretty top heavy, in the sense that the first half is by far the best and then it has too many ideas and not enough time to flesh any of them out so everything gets explained really fast and then the book ends. ​the arenas aren’t really that compelling to me either. the books are alright but i am out of the age range for sure. i want to get through all the books i remembered being so invested in as an 11 year old so i can look upon them now with my Old Elderly Brain. and then i will read the good stuff ive been putting off… it’s fun to read stuff and feel the echoes of emotions you felt so heavily then but not so much now. And then you go That’s not how cpr works. Tch… and the spell goes away for a while

[johntorrington]

hiiii johntorrington, im the anon who went to antarctica. it was wild! i learned I don't like cruise ships or being a tourist :) the icebergs were EPIC though and we got to do a polar plunge in deception island. I got South by shackleton (in spanish) before the trip and haven't made it very far because the first part is just a log of every day's weather and ice conditions. I'm going to get the worst journey in the world when I get back to the states!!

omg hi!!! that sounds fun especially the icebergs,,,

i hope you enjoy worst journey!

[gay-dorito-dust]

Whoa you like Nuada too? I can’t pass this up! Can you please write Nuada with a reader who is cheerful individual? I like grumpy x sunshine ships 😆 I feel he wouldn’t know how to go about it and more confused when he falls for reader (Gender neutral pls)

Of course I like Nuada anon! How could I not?! I’d be ashamed of myself if I didn’t.🦦 also this is long as shit. I got carried away…no I won’t apologise.

Nuada first heard of you whilst being held captive at the BRPD through Nuala, whom had met you earlier that day through your mutual love of literature. And according to his sister you were a bright, bubbly, happy and warm individual who made her feel welcomed and included the moment she came to the Bureau; even going so far as to gift her with a poetry book with a cerulean blue cover.

It was actually a personal possession of yours but due to never haven gotten to read it, you had decided that it would serve Nuala far better than it ever did you. Nuala naturally refused to accept it but, you were persistent that she’d have it as you would rather have it be well loved and read than sitting on a cold, lonely shelf collecting dust.

‘They’re such a delight to talk to brother.’ Nuala began, clutching the poetry book with the cerulean cover close to her chest as though it were a priceless treasure, which to her it very much was.

‘They’re human dear sister, this persona they’ve put on is probably a trick, an illusions of sorts to lure you into a false sense of security.’ Nuada warns, not as trusting towards humanity as Nuala was. Giving? Warm? Welcoming? These were traits that the elven prince would’ve never associated with humans. Ever. It just sounded too far fetched to think that such a kindhearted and selfless person could ever have existed. Nuada only knew humanity for their glutinous greed, so such simple acts of kindness as gifting someone a poetry book, would do very little to change his perspective on the entirety of mankind.

Nuala frowns. ‘You haven’t even met them and yet you refuse to give them a fair chance. I understand your grievances towards humans but all I ask of you, dear brother, is that you learn to trust one, even if that one happens to be y/n.’ Nuala pleaded with Nuada, holding out on a spark of hope that with your influence, Nuada’s heart will no longer be veiled in shadows. Nuala truly believed that if anyone could come close to doing just that, it would be you, she just knew it.

Nuada merely scoffs at the notion his sister has in you being the one to unveil his heart of the pain and suffering. While he may have once bended to his twins every plea, this was one he could not find himself willingly doing so and the look upon Nuala’s face told him that she was very much made aware of that fact and wordlessly left.

Nuada wouldn’t get to experience you in your entirety until the BRPD decided that Nuada was trusted to head out on missions as your partner, they too also had some inclination that your bright and sweet persona would not only run off on Nuada but also soften his resolve against all of humanity; an request that would take a lot out of you.

‘You must be Prince Nuada. It’s nice to finally put a face to the name I’ve heard so much about.’ You said, barely able to contain your excitement at finally being given a partner. Sure the stories you’ve heard about the elven prince were…less then enlightening, framing him as an angry and vengeful being incapable of change, but the ones you’ve heard from Nuala however painted Nuada as a somewhat tragic figure.

‘I can’t remember the last time I saw my brother smile, if he even smiled at all.’ Nuala would say as a saddened look came across her face before she looked over at you when you abruptly grabbed her hand, face set in serious determination.

‘I’ll try and get him to smile more for you.’ You said.

‘It’s an impossible feat.’ Nuala counters but you weren’t having any of it.

‘Then I’ll just keep trying until I do, no matter how long that may take.’ You replied, staying strong to your conviction.

‘Why. Why would you go out of your way to do something for someone you barely even know?’ Nuala asked, feeling your strength, determination, heart and more theough just holding your hand alone. It was overwhelming of hoe bright you were that Nuala swore she would soon be blinded by your light alone, however it was because of your power of will that gave her hope, hope that you’ll might just do what she had long since believed to be impossible.

You merely smiled and relied with, ‘because even the strongest of us deserve to smile and like you said, you don’t remember the last time that you’ve seen your brother smile. So leave that to me and I promise to have Nuada smiling soon.’

And you always meant your promises. Always. What you wasn’t expecting was how handsome Nuada actually was. No one had bothered to tell you prior that your partner was a true beauty. A beauty with a piercing set of golden eyes and desirably soft, silky hair that fell past his shoulders in a platinum blonde waterfall. He held an air about him that made you both nervous and excited, however you had to quickly remind yourself that he wasn’t going to warm up to you nearly as quickly as you’d hoped.

Nuada on the other hand was immediately blindsided by your personality. It was so vibrant, colourful and filled to the brim with radiant life that he was certain that he looked rather dull and lifeless in comparison. It also looked as though his sister was right about many things in regard to your character, however that didn’t warrant Nuada to immediately start trusting you like she had wished for, after all you were still a human at the end of the day.

‘I’m-‘

‘Y/n. I’m aware.’ Nuada cuts you off abruptly before you could properly introduce yourself.

You made a face. ‘How-‘

‘My sister speaks highly of you,’ you began to smile at that but Nuada wasn’t finished, ‘but I have yet to witness what’s so special about you.’ You merely shrugged and answered with your entire chest. ‘You will soon enough. I promised your sister to get you to smile after all.’ Nuada’s brows raised at this but before he could get you to elaborate on that further, it was already time to head out for your first mission as a partnership.

Your first mission had turned out to be an avid success that it would only stand to reason to keep sending you and Nuada out as a team. You worked extremely well together and your fighting styles complement each others, while also concealing any weak spots that the other may have almost seamlessly. You and Nuada both complement missions in quick and swift succession. That was out in the field however, the way you acted towards Nuada afterwards made him feel a weird warmth within his chest.

You would often note of how Nuada fell a good distance behind everyone else after group missions, and so you would then fall to the back of the group also -not wanting him to be alone- before naturally falling into step with him, all the while still adhering to giving him his own personal space. You didn’t force a conversation with him like he expected you to, but instead allowed a calming silence to befall the pair of you as you headed home; Which was something he was oddly grateful to you for as he wasn’t that much of a conversationalist after battle.

However he couldn’t help but wonder why you were putting in so much effort into him. He hated your kind and yet you’ve treated him with nothing but respect and kindness. You didn’t push his boundaries, you didn’t overstay your welcome but even long after you left his side, Nauda could still feel your lingering warmth within every breeze that passed him by. Nuada just didn’t get why you were so hellbent on your promise to his sister, was it truly that important for you to help fulfil Nuala’s wish? And if so, what was it that she had said at the time for you that solidified your need to see it through film the end?

While Nuada had to admit, it was quite admirable that you kept to your word but some days he couldn’t help but question whether if that was your sole reason for sticking so close to him. Whether or not he’d ever confront you about it was his to debate upon later, but as for now he decided against it; His pride would never allow him to indulge in such thoughts and ideations that weren’t remotely relevant to hating humans.

Nuada had also noticed that after being your partner for a while, he had developed a need to protect you from all harm. At first he thought that if you died on a mission, the fault would fall onto him and he would be put back into confinement until further notice, but he soon learned that wasn’t actually the case; Far from it actually that he soon found himself sitting across from his sister to discuss about it.

‘Sounds like you have grown fond of y/n, brother.’ Nuala had said, smiling as she relishes in the times that Nuada obviously expressed interest in you without knowing it, but luckily that’s when the link they share makes situations like these a whole lot more simpler to navigate.

‘I merely find them more tolerable than others.’ Nuada defends, crossing his arms over his chest, still heavily in denial that anything he felt for you could possibly go beyond the realms of being cordial with one another. Yet that didn’t explain the sting in his chest whenever you were as joyful and excitable with anyone who wasn’t him, almost as though he wanted you to only beam that bright for him and him only.

‘Then why do you feel at peace with them near? Has their light finally unveiled your heart?’ Nuala asked and this time Nuada stayed silent for a longer period of time as he was beginning to realise that yes, you did infect have unveiled his heart from the shadows he cast over it. What scared him however was how you had done it. You constantly showed him patience during the times where he needed it, showed him understanding when he talked about his feelings, something he hadn’t done as much before meeting you; you even showed him solidarity for the times where he needed someone to stand by his side.

You had changed Nuada’s way of life in small but meaningful ways that there came a day where he starts to hate the fact that he had come this far without the gentle guidance of your voice for him to follow unto a better path. However despite acknowledging that you play a pivotal part in his current life, doesn’t mean that made Nuada’s understanding of his feelings any clearer than they were when he first discovered them.

‘They make me feel things I’d never thought I’d feel again Nuala.’ He began, knowing that whatever he said to his sister would be kept solely between them. ‘I’ve been lost admits my need for revenge that even the fluttering in my chest, or the warmth that reaches my cheeks feels foreign to me now.’ He adds, taking the time to remember the first time he felt something towards you that wasn’t explicit hatred for being human. ‘It feels as though I’m experiencing them for the first time and I can’t help but become addicted of sorts, that whenever they smile at me-‘

‘You hope that they smile at you like that forever.’ Nuala interrupts her brother softly, already quite well acquainted either that feeling from the times she felt Nuada’s emotions through the link.

‘Yes.’ Nuada said in an almost whisper. ‘I wish to be the reason y/n smiles as much as they are mine.’ Nuala couldn’t help but express her happiness for this new stage of Nuada’s life, all she wanted was for her brother to be happy and she was made even happier at the fact that it was you who made him the happiest he’s ever felt in a long time.

‘We shall get through this together brother.’ Nuala reassured, feeling her brothers’ still prevalent confusion, making Nuada look back at her, ‘then soon everything else will fall into place. You just have to put faith in the hope that y/n will be there to catch you when you fall.’

Nuada was still confused about everything but with hi sisters help, he hopes to surely get a clearer understanding of what he was currently feeling before confronting you about it.

[lucrativesoul]

i love soft husband leon. who doesn't? what about soft leon who loves that you are a bookworm and dedicates himself to being your biggest fan? i am on board for this.

Ever since you had met, Leon knew how much of a reader you were. So much so, that before anything serious had even transpired between you two, he vowed to be the reason for your eventually massive book collection.

He had never said it out loud, but he loved your dedication to your reading space and how you cared for your growing library. You treated it like an entity, and he couldn’t help but always admire your effort that you put into it. He never thought that he was a second choice to your affection, rather, he preferred seeing you in the state of caring for your passion. It only made him fall more.

Every anniversary, birthday, holiday that required gifts possible, he was buying you a book or something to put in the room. Leon was always paying attention to what you say you need to add, or what you want to read, or something that would make the room look brighter.

Some of his favorite moments with you are the silent nights where he was sitting at one end of the couch, either on his phone or mirroring you and (giving it his best attempt) reading, and you were always right next to him with your own book. If you were close enough to the table, a mug with that night’s choice of drink not far from your reach, and one body part always in contact with him. The peace of the air calmed him after a day at work, or when something insignificant in his life went wrong, and even just looking over at you in your blissful state was enough to soothe him.

Leon, truthfully, loved nothing more than seeing you absorbed in your own worlds. Before he had met you, he thought it impossible that he could live a life where he even had a few moments of a quiet mind. He had no idea that one person could flip that all on its head. You became that for him. And when you are in your own little world, happy as can be (or sad, Leon has seen your many moods with the books you choose), he is reminded of the day that altered his life path forever.

Leon shows up with random plants sometimes. Nothing compliments a warm library space like a good plant, and eventually you had to tell him to slow down, as you were running out of room. (That really wasn’t true, you had a whole shelf and the both of you knew it. You would happily fill it with any plant he brought in, but he stayed conscious to keep it open in order to leave space for all the books he was planning on giving you).

Coming home from work, if you weren’t in the kitchen pouring yourself another mug of whatever it was that you chose for the night, you were in your reading room. The huge chair (that Leon supplied) held you snuggly against the thick knit blanket (from Leon) with your signature mug placed on the side table (...Leon) was exactly how he liked to find you. As much as it pained him to interrupt your reading, he always comes in to greet you, heart lightening at your expression at seeing him home, even if it was in the middle of a sentence.

Basically, Leon knew he made the right choice in choosing you to marry. He thought it would never happen to find someone who was his light even when you weren't paying attention to him. Just the mere sight of you had his heart racing. His safe space was with you, and with you always came the books and the comfort, so for the rest of his life, he knew he was bound to think of you every time he looked at a leather bound hardcover, already being able to picture you flipping through it.

a/n: i'm sorry for being silent! as i said before, the semester is in swing and i only have a month left now! i'm still thinking up ideas for my next full length, but i have not disappeared yet. please check out my others in the meantime if you haven’t already, and i will continue to work hard to make sure i deliver to my utmost quality. thank you for reading <3

[addicted-to-dc]

GK!Jason Todd x Bookseller!Reader - So Wilde

Yes, it's spelled like that for a reason XD. You can have another fic today, a gift from me to you. I love the little easter eggs and details in the Gotham Knights game so damn much.

Content: Fluff, accidental (illegal) drug use. Pretty tame, but I love this story so much.

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

Gotham has its ups and downs when it comes to being a resident, but no one can deny the beauty of the city itself. The amount of history in one block alone would make a visiting historian go crazy if it weren’t for the villains that plague the city.

Luckily for you, you’re in a neighborhood that’s well protected by the remaining vigilantes in the city. Most visitors to Wilde’s Books have mentioned Batman’s never-ending absence, but you usually reassure them that there’s more than just Batman in Gotham.

Leaning back, you continue to read your novel as the door opens. The bell rings loud enough for you to just notice. Leaning forward, you see it’s your favorite customer, Jason. Smiling, you bookmark your spot and stand up.

“Jason! Good to see you, I have your order right here,” you say, turning around to snag a group of bound books on a shelf. “I swear you’re going to read through the whole store at this rate.”

He chuckles, “It’s for the home library. It’s seriously overdue for new additions.”

You place the books on the counter, removing the receipt before sliding them closer to Jason. Suddenly, you remember what you were holding for him. “One sec, I have other stuff for you.”

Turning around, you dig around in your secret stash until you finally find two books. You know he’s going to love these. Dramatically, you place the additional books next to his order. Jason shakes his head with a chuckle, used to your antics, but his laugh gets cut short.

“Oh my god, you found it?”

He instantly picks up one of the books, a rare first edition of his favorite series he’s always ranting about. His eyes drift to the other book. It’s the follow-up novel.

“Both of them? You’ve really outdone yourself this time, (Y/N),” he says. He goes to pull out his wallet, but you shake your head.

“On the house, you practically keep this store open with your spending habits,” you smirk, reaching for a tote bag. “Plus, I owe you for the food last time.”

Your smile fades as you feel a sudden zing of pain run through your head. Massaging your temples, you try to massage the pain away.

“You good, (Y/N)?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you reply, the pain slowly subsiding. “I picked up my meds yesterday and apparently, they switched to a new brand or something.”

Your hand immediately reaches for a tote bag to place the books in, needing to possibly close the shop and sit down. Everything feels too loose, the divide between your thoughts and actions quickly blurring. Sudden heat rushes over your body, morphing into pins and needles before you find yourself on the ground.

Jason crouches next to you. You’re unable to hear his words for a few seconds, until you finally come to your senses. “What happened?”

“You passed out. You need to stop taking these meds, clearly, they’re not helping,” he explains, slowly helping you lean up. “How’s your head?”

“Haven’t had any complaints yet,” you chuckle, a wince quickly appearing on your face. “Okay, one complaint.”

Your hand drifts to the back of your head, feeling around until you find a sizeable goose egg. Damn, you probably have a concussion.

“I’m gonna pick you up, okay?” he asks, waiting for you to nod. “I’m going to sit you on the counter.”

He lifts you up effortlessly, like you weigh as light as a book, and places you gently on the counter. You hold onto him tightly, head spinning as it tries to find its equilibrium again.

“Haven’t been this fucked up since college,” you joke, leaning slightly to the right until Jason intervenes. “Never had these symptoms before.”

He quickly sends a text on his phone before pocketing it, one of his hands on your waist to keep you from falling again. “Do you have the pill bottle on you?”

“Below the register, red bag,” you answer, watching as he digs through your random belongings until he finally finds it.

“Dr. Q?” He examines the bottle of pills, reading over the label until he receives a message. Jay quickly reads it. “How many doses have you taken?”

“Only two. What’s going on, Jay?”

He sighs, weighing his options before finally answering. “Dr. Q as in Harley Quinn?”

Your eyes widen as soon as he says the name, “What?!”

“You didn’t take enough, don’t worry,” he reassures you. “A few more and then we’d be worrying. Can you close the shop? You need to get food in your system to ride this out.”

You nod, “I will if it’s Big Belly Burgers.”

“You read my mind, let’s get you out of here,” he smiles, helping you to your feet. “Can’t have my favorite bookseller in such a state.”

His words make a huge smile grow on your face, but he misses it as he turns around to grab his books from the counter. Hope blooms in your chest. Maybe there is a chance with your favorite bookworm, but you’ll wait for another day. He opens the door, guiding you out until you’re outside and the door is locked.

Your eyes wander around until your eyes meet with his motorcycle. He stares at it, too, most likely thinking the same thing as you.

“Yeah, we’re not doing that. You okay with the bus?”

------

Likes, reblogs and comments are always welcome!

[buzzyb33]

Podcasts

Prompt: a collection of clips from a podcast with Y/n and James- literally just them being a cute couple

Warnings: swearing, established relationship, both Y/n and James are content creators, short,

(I have so many requests and stuff but this just came to mind after seeing Ethan and faiths new podcast so.. I’ll get to them soon I swear)

One occurrence was the newest podcast, the two have videos every Thursday and read stupid Twitter threads and Reddit posts.

“So, James.” I say as I adjust my position.

“Yeah? Go on.” He smiles and I clear my throat, exaggerated.

“Would you rather kiss me for 100,000 grand or kiss the prettiest girl in the world for a million?” I cross my legs as I put my phone down from reading.

“Well- what? I kiss you everyday. So I- can just do it.. but for money? So obviously you.” He says, adjusting his glasses.

“That’s the wrong fucking answer, James.” I shake my head.

“What? Why? We don’t need a million- I suppose it’d be nice.” He speaks and watches me carefully as my jaw ticks.

“No! I’m the prettiest girl in the world! You’re meant to say: ‘oh y/n, I could kiss you and get the million,’ because I’m meant to be the prettiest girl in the world!”

I scoff and slam my hand as he starts laughing.

“Yeah-! That’s- what I meant! Oh fuck off that was a trick question. Yeah, I’d kiss you and get the million.” He pleads his case with amusement.

“Who’s the prettiest girl in the world?” I ask.

“You!”

I shake my head. “Not what you said before..”

Another time was a bit random, but it sits a nice place in Y/ns heart.

“You know, Y/n is getting her room re done. She claims she isn’t a loser but the amount of five nights at Freddy’s and Pokémon stuff is organised on her shelf I thought I was going to have a seizure from all the colours.” James says, flexing his fingers.

I roll my eyes, opening my mouth to speak but the frowning.

“I’m sorry- you’re a content creator and don’t know the five nights at Freddy’s lore? And I bet you could name like two fucking Pokémon.” I scoff, sipping my coffee.

He looks at me and laughs.

“You get so defensive! And I can name many Pokémon, you’re just borderline obsessed.”

He states and I scoff again.

“Sorry, James, how many fucking guitars do you own?” I retort and he rolls his eyes.

“I get payed for that, very different.” He replies and I scoff.

“Guys James is just mad he acts tureen years older than he is.” I snicker and he smiles.

“Okay, haha.”

Though, James’ favourite clip of the two is when they had Willne as a guest, him sat on the middle.

“So, how long do these normally go on for?” He asks as he shifts in his seat.

“About an hour.. maybe longer so..” James pulls his phone out, checking the time.

“Around an hour or something left.” He says and I nod, finding some threads to read out.

“What’s your home screen?” Will asks as James checks the time.

His face turns a little pink, only visible by the tips of his ears and nose.

“It’s me and Y/n in Australia.” He shows will and he can’t help but smile.

The photo consists of Y/n eating a cone of ice cream, one hand in James’ as they walk ahead of whoever took the photo, the sun is just setting and she has his rainbow scarf draped over her shoulders.

At that, i look up.

“What? The one Jago took?” I ask as I peer over and James nods.

“Awe..” I smile and he looks away.

“What’s yours then lass?” Will asks and i smile as I lock my phone to show him and the camera.

The photo is of my lips smooshed against James’ cheek and his hand in my forehead, attempting to push it away, I was sleep deprived when I did that and Jono found it hilarious at James’ trying-not-to-smile expression and snapped the photo.

Will fake gags and then chuckles.

The finally, the end of 2023 podcast was a fan favourite.

“What was your Spotify wrapped?” He asks, pulling his own phone out.

“I thought I’d ask on the podcast.” He adds with a smile.

I smile at his Tory accent and check.

“I haven’t looked yet..” I say as I tap through it.

“Hm. My number one song was heartbeat by childish Gambino, number two static by Steve lacy, number three was so long by you, number four was crying lighting and five was 505 by arctic monkeys.” I say with a soft smile.

“You have me?” He asks with a skeptical tone.

I scoff and shove my phone near him as he smirks.

“Alright alright.. artists?” He asks and I see.

“Arctic monkeys, you, Kanye west, childish gambino and TV girl.” I smile as I hand him my phone.

“I don’t think me and Kanye should ever be next to each other. In any list.” He says with a stupidly serious time and I let out a giggle.

“Shut up. What was your favourite edit of the year?” I ask and he shrugs.

“Edit? I don’t know..” he clearly thinks.

“Mine is the josh Hutcherson one.” I smile jd he rolls his eyes.

“Could at least lie and say it’s one of me.” He scoffs and I laugh.

“I did like the one where it was taking what’s not yours and it was a ship edit of us. That was sweet.” I smile and he nods.

“I saw that.. stop being al soft. Now I look like a prick.” I smile teasingly and he scoffs again.

A/n

Guys I’m so burnt out I know I have loads of requests but don’t let that stop you from keeping the coming cus I will be writing my favs first.

Also maybe I just wanted to yap about my interests and put them into the reader. Oh well.

Requests are open!

Masterlist!

[sixhours]

One Day at a Time - Chapter 3 - Embryo

Series Chapter Index | Read on AO3 | Complete

Rating: Explicit, 18+, here be smut Series tags: The Last of Us, The Last of Us (HBO), Joel Miller x f!OFC, Joel & Ellie, mostly follows canon, SMUT, gratuitous smut, dubious consent (drunk sex), unplanned pregnancy, fluff, references to past miscarriages, angst, hurt/comfort, romance, age gap (~21 years), childbirth, fluffy baby stuff, I've probably forgotten some so please let me know <3

~*~

Days become weeks without word from Charlie. Every time he sees her, she gives him a little nod. Nothing overt, just enough to send a message.

We’re still here.

After two weeks, he’d found an old pocket calendar from 2001 and put it by his bed, and he marks off each day that passes with a big X. He’s done the math, and there’s a date in mid-December circled in red pen.

He can’t sleep for shit under the best of circumstances, but lately it’s impossible. He’s given up trying, choosing instead to crash on the couch with a movie playing on a loop in the background until a fitful sleep takes him.

He’s parked like this on the couch one night when the knock surprises him out of a half-doze. He fumbles for the remote and pauses the movie before answering the door.

It’s Charlie.

“I’m bleeding,” she says in lieu of a greeting.

His stomach sinks.

He reaches out without thinking, hands on her shoulders; she’s shivering. He pulls her forward into the warmth of the little house, closing the door behind her.

“Midwife says it could be normal or it could be a miscarriage,” she says flatly. “No way to tell yet.”

He seethes. He remembers Maria and Tommy telling him about the Jackson midwife; she was competent, but her bedside manner was shit.

“Does it…feel like…” He doesn’t know how to finish the sentence.

“I don’t know, I’ve never made it this far. I’m not cramping. It’s not a lot of blood. I just…you wanted me to tell you, so I’m telling you.”

He nods, feeling stupid and helpless and hating it.

“Uh…sit,” he says, gesturing to the couch. “Want tea? It’s herbal. No caffeine.”

She nods warily. “Sure…I guess.”

He sets the water to boil, gets out two mugs, pulls the little canister of tea from the shelf, and fills the infuser with dried peppermint leaves. He can’t stand the stuff, but Ellie won’t drink coffee like a normal person, so they always have some in the house.

He glances at Charlie from over his shoulder as he waits for the water to boil. She’s on the couch, arms wrapped around herself as if she could hold back the thing she fears by force of will.

“You take milk or anythin’?”

“Just sugar, if you have it.”

He does. The kettle whistles and he pours the steaming water over the leaves.

She takes the tea with a small, hollow smile and sips at it. He takes a seat in the armchair next to her.

“Is there anything we can do?”

She shakes her head. “Midwife said to check in tomorrow morning. If it gets worse before then, I’ll go to the clinic.”

“Okay,” he says. “I can…wait with you.”

She nods, takes another sip, and sinks back into the couch. Waiting.

The silence presses in around them. It’s like torture, and Joel wracks his tired brain for something, anything to say. She saves him the trouble, blinking with interest at the television screen.

“Is this Gunz Blazin’ 2 ?”

“Uh…yeah…”

“I haven’t seen it since I was a kid,” she says, smiling a little. “My dad and I used to watch these movies all the time. They’re awful.”

He swallows hard, thinking of Sarah.

She looks at him and picks up the remote. “Mind if I…?”

“Yeah, yeah…sure.”

She hits Play and sits back, curling her legs under her and clutching the tea in her hands.

~*~

The credits roll a couple of hours later. Charlie has nestled into the couch with a blanket over her lap, empty mug resting on the coffee table.

“S’it as bad as you remember?” Joel rasps.

“Yes. Maybe worse. But in a good way,” she smiles a little. “Nostalgic, I guess.”

He nods. “How’re you, uh, feelin’?”

“Fine,” she says automatically, then laughs. “Not fine, actually. I’m exhausted and I’m sick all the time and my boobs are so fucking sore I could—“

She stops. “Shit, I’m sorry. That’s more than you needed to know. My husband used to say I was born without a filter.”

“S’alright,” he murmurs, his face burning. “You’re, uh, married?”

“Was…or what passed for marriage in the QZ, I guess. We were cordyceps orphans…grew up together after the outbreak, protected each other…kept each other out of trouble. We had 17 years together before…before our luck ran out.”

“So he, uh…you and he…wanted kids?”

“Yeah,” she snorts. “Sounds pretty stupid, right? Bringing a baby into a quarantine zone?”

He bites his lip and doesn’t say anything. He knew people still brought children into this broken world, but he’d never considered it. His interest in that life had stopped when Sarah’s heart stopped beating.

“I miscarried three times,” she murmurs. “We might have kept trying if we’d made it to Jackson together…I don’t know.”

“What happened to him?”

She shrugs. “We ran into trouble on the way here. He was bit. I…took care of it. We always said that was the deal, that we wouldn’t let each other turn. He…he didn’t even flinch when I pulled the trigger.”

She’s looking down at her stomach now, tracing her fingers over the ridges in her shirt, lost in thought.

“I wasn’t looking for this any more than you were,” she says softly. “But I want it anyway…I–I can’t help it. Is that foolish?”

Her eyes bore into his then, not sad now, almost…angry. Challenging him to deny her this.

Joel doesn’t know how to answer, but he huffs a soft, “No.”

She rubs her palm slowly across her lower belly. “This is the longest I’ve ever made it. I didn’t have morning sickness or the…other symptoms before, so I thought…maybe…maybe this time…”

“It’s not over ‘til it’s over,” he says softly.

He wants to take her hand. Instead, he gathers their mugs and takes them to the sink.

“Oh…it’s late,” she says faintly. “I should go.”

He frowns. “You shouldn’t be alone. You can stay here tonight.”

“Oh, no—”

He shakes his head, cutting off her protest. “If somethin’ goes wrong or if you get…sick…someone should be with you. I could come to your place if that’s–or call a friend if you don’t want, uh, me–”

“It’s not that, Joel, but I’ve been through this before–”

“By yourself?”

She swallows hard and ducks her head. ���No.”

“Then stay,” he says. “Just for the night. I can put you up in–”

He falters, thinking of Ellie’s old room, still decorated in ugly pink stripes. Meant for a teenager but too close to a nursery.

“You can stay in my room,” he says quickly. “I’ll take the couch. Usually end up down here anyway.”

“I couldn’t–”

“It’s fine,” he waves her off. “Can’t sleep for shit no matter where I land. C’mon.”

He makes for the stairs before she can argue, and breathes a sigh of relief when she follows. He pauses outside the door to his bedroom.

“Just, uh…wait here. Gimme a minute.”

He ducks into the room, picking up clothes and tossing them into the hamper. He strips the bed and digs wrinkled but clean sheets out of the linen closet. After a pause, he picks up the calendar and the red pen from the nightstand and stuffs them into his pocket.

“Should be all good. The bathroom’s, uh, right through there,” he gestures. “All yours. There’s, uh, pain medicine if you need it.”

“Thanks…”

“I’ll be downstairs,” he says. “If you need anything, if anything, uh, happens…just come get me. Or yell.”

“Sure.”

“I mean it,” he says.

“I will, Joel,” she murmurs. “Thanks.”

“G’night then.”

He goes back to his usual spot on the couch and lies down, staring at the little cracks in the living room ceiling. He won’t be able to sleep now. He thinks about the raw need in her voice as her fingers traced her stomach, the hitch in her breath, maybe this time …

He throws an arm across his eyes, trying to block out the thoughts. A small, grief-blackened part of him hates that he cares. Before Ellie, he could numb the pain with booze and pills and a lucrative career in smuggling. But he’s not that man anymore. It would be so much easier if he were, if he couldn’t feel the little flicker of hope in his chest.

The calendar and pen dig into his hip, and he pulls them out of his pocket. It’s well after midnight, so without thinking, he uncaps the pen and crosses off another day.

~*~

He must have fallen asleep. When he opens his eyes, the room is lighter, and Charlie is nudging his shoulder.

He’s upright before he’s fully awake. “What is it? Y’okay?”

“I’m fine,” she says quietly. “I’m going to go. The midwife said she’d see me at 7:00. I need to go home and change.”

“Right, okay. Do you, uh…do you want me to come with–”

“No,” she says quickly. “I haven’t told her…or anyone…about you.”

“Right,” he blinks. “Um. Let me know…okay?”

She nods, holding her arms around her middle like she could protect herself from the worst. Without thinking, he reaches out and touches the back of her hand. She doesn’t pull away.

“Sorry,” he mutters, withdrawing. “I…I hope it works out,” he says lamely.

“Do you?” she asks, with an edge of bitterness in her voice. She’s immediately contrite. “I’m sorry. You’ve been kind, and that was…cruel. Missing my filter again.”

“It’s…fine.”

He wants to tell her he does have hope, despite himself, but she’s already out the door.

~*~

Charlie hasn’t been gone for five minutes when there’s a knock.

Shit.

He’s on the schedule for a construction job and he’d promised to meet Tommy early. Now he’s late.

“I’m comin’,” he mutters, wincing at the stiffness in his back. “Hold your goddamned horses.”

“Long night?” Tommy smirks on the other side of the door. “Thought I saw Charlie doin’ the walk of shame–”

“Shut it,” Joel growls, surprising himself at the bite in his voice. “Don’t say another fuckin’ word.”

Tommy’s hands coming up in mock defense. “Whoa, easy. Didn’t know it was like that.”

“It’s not,” Joel snaps.

“Alright,” he says, peering at his older brother curiously. “So…you ready to go?”

“Yeah. Lemme get my stuff.”

He’s distracted all day. The work is simple enough–framing a new barn for the sheep, to replace one that’s been infested by termites beyond repair. It should be easy, but he’s overtired and he can’t seem to make his hands behave. Tommy keeps having to repeat himself, giving Joel curious looks. 

“You’re losin’ it, big brother,” he says amiably when Joel brings him a jar of the wrong-size screws for the second time in a row.

It’s mid-afternoon when he brings the hammer down on his middle finger. He watches the whole thing as though in slow motion, knowing exactly what’s going to happen well before he feels the pain, but he’s powerless to stop it.

“Fuuuuuuuck,” he hisses, shaking out his injured hand. Purplish red blood is already blooming under the wide, flat nail. He resists the urge to stick the finger in his mouth to soothe the throbbing ache like a child.

“You break it?” Tommy’s looking over his shoulder.

“No,” he growls. “Just a bruise.”

“Yeah, right. Well, you’re done for today,” Tommy says. “Go home. Made good progress, anyway, we’re almost done.”

Joel shoots him a look, but it doesn’t affect his younger brother in the slightest. It never does. So he relents, packing his tools and trudging away, finger throbbing.

He sees her on the walk home.

Charlie is standing with someone just outside the caf. She looks about as tired as he feels, but then she sees him and brightens, the subtlest glimmer as she catches his eye. The look stops him in mid-stride, frozen in the middle of the street.

She gives him a little nod.

Warmth spreads through his chest, a flood of relief, and that blasted hope again.

We’re still here.

[danikamariewrites]

Cabin Getaway

Eris x f!Reader

A/n: Eris is underrated in my personal opinion. I think he wears a mask just like Rhys did and when SJM reveals that I will feel vindicated lol. Requests open y’all.

Warnings: lil bit of angst, some fluff, and the a lil smutty/suggestive at the end so 18+ only (please let me know if I missed anything)

Everything sucked. That’s why you were currently tucked away in a corner of your and Eris’ favorite part of the library in the Forest House. Crying your eyes out of course. How else is a girl supposed to wallow in her sadness in a library?

You and your mother had gotten into another one of your famous fights. She had yelled at you again for not being “ladylike” enough for court, you wore pants too much, and she hated when you left your hair natural.

During these fights your father would attempt to calm her down but she never listened to him. So he stopped intervening. The only person who made you feel better after fights with your mother was Eris.

You’d been best friends since you moved to the Forest House when you were children. Ever since that day you’ve been inseparable. You slowly started to fall in love and have been seeing each other in secret for years. Not because most people wouldn’t accept it, your mother would be thrilled you managed to get the heir of Autumn to fall for you. But that’s exactly why you won’t tell her. You didn’t want to give her bragging rights to shove in the faces of the other ladies in the court, she didn’t deserve it.

And Beron, the High Lord from hell itself was another reason. You and Eris both remember what happened to Jesminda. He doesn’t want to risk that fate for you, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself.

So sneaking around until Eris calls in his bargain with the Night Court will have to do. You like that your relationship is just between you two. It feels more intimate and personal this way.

Between your sniffling you hear footsteps approaching on the carpet. They’re soft so they won’t startle you, slow, giving you time to collect yourself. You hate when Eris sees you like this after a fight with your mother. Her cruel words always break your heart, making you feel like you’re unloveable. Eris has assured you time and time again that isn’t true, that you deserve all the love in the world and more.

You quickly pull out a book from the shelf behind you, opening to a random page and stick your face in it so he can’t see your puffy eyes and red cheeks.

He sits down across from you, legs stretched out. He pushes the book you’re “reading” down with his index finger giving you a sad smile. “What’s wrong my wildfire?” You try to keep your composure but you can’t. Abandoning the book on the floor you crawl into Eris’ lap, draping your arms around his shoulders and bury your face in his neck.

You let put a sob that shakes your body and he starts rubbing your back in soothing circles. Eris kisses your temple slightly swaying you back and forth. “Another fight with your mother?” You nod. “It’s already the eighth one this week and I’m just so sick of it.”

After a few minutes of sitting there in his arms Eris starts stroking your hair. “Tell you what,” he pulls back looking at you, wiping stray tears that haven’t fully dried yet, “Court is about to get busy for a few days, our parents won’t even notice us, what if we went to the cabin? Get a break from this wretched place, yeah?”

“Yes please.” This is exactly what you two needed and it couldn’t have come at a better time. You’re alone time with Eris has been lacking for the last two weeks and you just wanted to get lost in your lover for a few days.

“We’ll leave tomorrow before breakfast. I, unfortunately, must be getting back or he will start looking for me. But I’ll try and come see you after dinner ok.” You nod as he guides you up off the floor, kissing your forehead and leading you out of the library.

. . .

Before anyone could notice the two of you were gone that morning Eris had winnowed you to the cabin. He built it when you were in your 200s, wanting a place where you could just hang out and enjoy each other's company. It’s where he told you he was in love with you, where you spent your first night together, it was just full of good memories and a happy place to be.

After unpacking you and Eris spent the day doing your favorite things. Talking about any and everything, making lunch, taking a walk in the woods, sleeping in each others arms at night just to wake up and happily do it all again the next day.

On the last night you wrapped up in each other on the couch. Your head on Eris’ chest listening to his heartbeat. It was your favorite sound in the whole world. It meant you were home and that you were loved. You started to move up his strong body ever so slightly, starting to press light kisses to his neck and across that beautifully sharp jawline. All the way up his cheek to his lips.

You feel Eris smirk into the kiss as he pulls you flush against his toned chest. “What are you doing, wildfire?” You giggle against his lips, pulling back so there’s an inch between your mouths. You would never pull back farther than that, you already spent too much time apart, you couldn’t bring yourself to be too far from him even though you were straddling him.

“Saying thank you. For always being there for me when I need you. For always knowing how to make me feel better. For giving me hope that it will all be better one day.” You bring your hands up to trace the smattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks gently. “I love you Eris, so godsdam much.” You whisper.

He reaches up and covers your hands with his large pale ones. Pressing his forehead to yours he whispers back, “And I love you wildfire, more than you could ever know.” His mouth finds yours again with a kiss that’s full of all the love for you he’s told you about over the years. You meet his passion with that fire of yours he loves so much.

You begin to rock your hips slowly against his while grabbing at the long red strands at the bottom of his neck. He moans into your lips at your movements. Eris grabs your face and slows the kiss to a painful stop. You whine, giving him a pout and those sad eyes you always use with him to get what you want.

“Let’s not waste our last night out here, let me take you to bed properly. Show you how much I love you.” He breathes out. “Take me Eris.” You sigh out. As you wrap your legs around his waist he grabs you by the back of your thighs and stands up taking you to the bedroom on the second floor of the cabin.

[morri-draws]

Gwaine x Reader - 'The Threads That Bind Us' - Chapter 1

Story Summary:

You, a humble dressmaker from Camelot’s lower town, are commissioned to make a new gown for Queen Guinevere. Impressed by your skills, she offers you the position of Royal Clothier. During your time in the castle, you catch the eye of one of the knights of King Arthur’s inner circle, Sir Gwaine. What starts as a sweet courtship is turned upside down when misfortune strikes and you must deal with the aftermath, as well as an unwelcome visit from Gwaine’s unpleasant sister.

Rating: Mature

Tags: Female Reader/Gwaine, set between seasons 4 and 5, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort

Words: 3,245

Read on Ao3

The king and queen of Camelot sit at breakfast in the royal chambers, cherishing their morning together before they are required for their duties.

“Oh, that reminds me,” King Arthur says, fork in hand. “The royal clothier is retiring. He has served us for many years, but is getting too old to continue in the position. I shall look among those who serve the nobility for a worthy successor,”

“Why not look in the town?” Queen Guinevere takes a sip from her goblet. “There are many skilled people there. They should not be overlooked just because they have not yet made a name for themselves. We should give them a chance,”

The king smiles at his wife. “You’re right. The common people should have the opportunity to shine. Would you like to see to it, or shall I?”

Knowing that Arthur’s version of him ‘seeing to it’ would be to send out his manservant to do it for him, the queen decides against it.

“I shall go. I would like to see how our people in the city fair. I haven’t been to the lower town for some time,”

~

Having just reorganized the shelves where the fabrics are stored and displayed, you sweep the floor, gathering any dust and threads that may have fallen during your time tidying. Once a neat pile is formed, you return the broom into the back room and reach for a dustpan and brush, when you hear the familiar jingle of your doorbell, alerting you that someone has entered your shop.

Hastily brushing off your dress with your hands, you step into the small shop front, to see the finest lady who has ever entered your humble establishment. Not just any lady either, but the Queen of Camelot herself. You stare at her dumbfounded for a moment, before lowering into a deep curtsy.

“How may I be of service, my queen?”

“Please, there is no need for such formality,” The queen beckons for you to stand. “What is your name?”

You tell her.

The queen smiles. “Well, (Y/N), I would like you to make me a new gown,”

Her words strike you with utter disbelief, and you’re surely standing with mouth ajar, like a gaping fish.

“Is that something you could do?” The queen asks, jolting you out of your paralysed state.

“Of course my lady, it would be an honour to fashion a new gown for you. Although I am not sure if I stock any fabrics fine enough,”

“I shan’t know until I have seen what you have. Shall we take a look?” she gestures to the fabric shelf behind the counter.

“Of course,” You lead her to the display. “As you can see, it is mostly wool and linen. Any finer fabrics I have are in small lengths, for bodices and girdles and such,”

The queen peruses the fabrics, handling some between her fingers to inspect them. Her dark eyes look over the various bolts, before resting on one on the lower shelf.

“What about this?” She reaches for a silvery-purple velvet.

“Oh yes,” You say, bending down to slide out the bolt. “This was for a wedding gown for a merchant’s daughter. Unfortunately, the wedding was called off,”

“That is sad indeed,” The queen says. “Do you think you might use the fabric for something else?”

“Honestly, no. It has been sitting there for some time. You see, I usually don’t work with such fine fabrics. I just don’t get those sort of customers,”

“Well, then it seems fate has decided,” The queen smiles. “I would like my new gown to be made with it,”

“Yes, my lady,” You pick up the bolt and place it on a nearby table. “Do you have a particular style of gown and trimmings in mind? If not, I can draw up some ideas,”

“I think I would like you to surprise me,”

Her answer is unexpected, filling you with nervousness but also excitement. “Very well, my lady. I will just need to take your measurements, then I can get started right away,”

You show her to the back room and close the door once you’re both inside. Taking out a tape measure, your sewing journal and a quill and ink, you take the queen’s measurements, marking the numbers down in the journal. Once that is complete, you wish each other good day.

Once the queen of Camelot steps out of your shop, you exhale, releasing tension you didn’t realise you were holding. The whole encounter hardly feels like it even happened.

~

For the next two days, you work on the queen’s gown. First, you sketch a number of designs until you come up with one you’re pleased with. Then you draft the pattern, before sewing a calico mock-up of the gown. On the morning of the third day, the mock-up is ready for a test fitting, so you place it carefully in a wicker basket you usually use for shopping at the market, along with your case of dressmaking tools.

You trudge your way up the muddy streets of the lower city, legs aching from the incline, when you finally reach Camelot castle.

You pass through the portcullis and over the bridge, finding yourself in a large courtyard. You look around in wonder at the grand, snowy-white walls of the palace, never having seen a structure so ornate. Yes, you have of course seen a view of the turrets from a distance in the lower town, but it doesn’t compare to seeing it up-close.

Once you’ve taken in the sights, it occurs to you that you have no idea where to go. Turning on the spot, you attempt to identify entrances into the castle. Would it be most proper to find a servant’s entrance? Perhaps you should find someone who looks like a servant to help you. You’re about to single out someone in the courtyard when footsteps approach you from behind. You whirl around to see a man dressed in chainmail and a scarlet cloak: a knight of Camelot. You have seen them come and go through the lower town, both on foot and on horseback. You’d often watch them as they passed, wondering what sights they might see on their patrols and quests throughout the kingdom.

The knight has dark, shoulder length hair that waves at the ends, and facial hair, a length somewhere between stubble and a short beard.

“Do you need some help?” He asks. “You look a little lost,”

“I need to see the queen,” You reply.

“And what business might you have with the queen of Camelot?” He asks in a way not at all accusatory or suspicious, but as a general inquiry.

“The queen has tasked me with making a new gown for her. I have come to conduct a fitting,”

He nods, your reason accepted. “I can take you to her. Here,” He reaches for the handle of your basket and takes it from your grasp.

“There’s no need for you to carry that, sir. I can manage,” You move to take the basket back.

The knight pulls his arm away so you can’t reach it. “And there’s no need to call me sir. The name’s Gwaine,”

“A pleasure to meet you, Gwaine. I am (Y/N),”

“Well met,” He smiles. “Shall we go?” He inclines his head toward a staircase across the courtyard.

You follow your guide into the castle and up a narrow flight of stairs. As you pass through a corridor, he turns his head to you.

“I haven’t seen you around here before. Have you been in Camelot long?” He asks, maintaining his stride.

“A couple years,” You reply, keeping pace. “I still can’t believe the queen visited my shop to commission a gown,”

“That is quite the honour,” Gwaine says, turning a corner and leading you down another passage, before halting in front of a double door. “Here we are. Let’s see if she’s in,”

He knocks upon the door thrice.

“Enter,” a feminine voice says from within.

Gwaine opens the door and pokes his head inside. “(Y/N) to see you about a dress,”

He steps aside and gestures for you to enter.

“Good luck,” He smiles as he hands you your basket and heads back the way he came.

You step into the royal chambers, where the queen stands beside a rectangular table, two windows in the wall behind her flooding the room with light.

“Please come inside,” The queen says with a smile.

“Thank you my lady,” You come forward a few steps. “I have made a mock-up version of your gown, so that I may conduct a fitting. Then I can see if any adjustments need to be made before I start on the actual gown,”

“Of course. You may set your things down here,” She gestures to the table.

You place your basket down and retrieve the dress, a box of pins and a piece of chalk from within it. The queen shows you to the left of the room, where a double archway leads into a bedchamber. A large, four poster bed is positioned against the back wall. On the adjacent wall is a stained glass window with a writing desk in front. Against the wall opposite the bed is a full length mirror beside a wardrobe and a wooden privacy screen, which the queen steps behind.

“Do you need some assistance getting undressed, my lady?”

“Yes, thank you. Just with the back fastenings,”

She sweeps her curly, dark brown locks over her shoulder so you can access said fastenings. Once they are all undone, she does the rest, removing the gown so she is just in her shift. You help her into the mock-up gown and pin it closed at the back.

“Turn around please, my lady,”

The queen does as you say, and you inspect the fit of the gown. You place pins here and there, where adjustments need to be made, and make some markings with chalk. Once you are satisfied, you help her undress.

“If you have the time, my lady, I’d like to make these adjustments now, so we can try it on again in a few moments,”

“I have time,” She gestures to the table for you to sit down, while she opens the wardrobe and retrieves a crossover robe, which she slips on over her shift. She then joins you at the table, sitting at the other end to give you space to work.

“It still seems so strange having someone else make my clothes for me,” She says.

You glance up from your work.

“I used to be in your place now, making gowns for… well…” She trails off.

“Do you ever miss how things used to be?” You ask, as you weave your needle in and out of the fabric.

The queen looks to the side thoughtfully.

“I’m sorry,” You say quickly. “That’s probably a silly question,”

“No, not at all,” The queen smiles reassuringly. “There are some things I miss about those days. As a servant, I could pass through the castle and go completely unnoticed. You can’t go anywhere like that as queen. Everyone’s eyes are on you at all times, like they’re waiting for you to slip up, make a mistake,”

You nod as you listen to her answer. “That must be difficult,”

“It can be,” She agrees. “But one thing I definitely don’t miss is hauling buckets of water up flights of stairs to fill my mistress’ bathtub,”

You laugh. “Indeed. Hopefully one day someone works out a better system,”

You finish off your stitch, snipping off the end with scissors.

“The adjustments are made, if you’d like to try it on again?”

You both return to the screen and you repeat the process from before, pinning the gown closed and having her turn around. You look over the garment, smoothing and tugging some areas, until you step back, satisfied.

You help the queen out of the mock-up gown and back into her regular gown, before you pack the mock-up and your sewing tools back into the basket.

“I will get to work with the velvet right away. It should be ready in a few days,”

“Wonderful,” The queen replies. “But please do not rush yourself. I have no deadline to meet,”

You give a small curtsy and leave the royal chambers, tracing your steps back to the courtyard, thankfully not getting lost on the way. Once you’re in familiar ground again, you make your way home in good time.

~

You spend the next few days working on the queen’s gown, your focus entirely on that task, since you don’t have any other work at the moment. Truth be told, your business hasn’t been doing so well, and you’ve been starting to think you might have to find more work. But this job for the queen should help to at least give you more time to figure something out.

Four days pass and the gown is finally finished. As you look over your creation, you believe it is your finest work yet. Once you’ve made yourself some lunch, you wrap the gown in paper, and carry the parcel up to the castle.

With no knight to guide you this time, you make your own way across the courtyard and up the steps, entering the castle to climb stairs and walk down corridors, until you make it to the royal chambers. You rap on the door and the queen greets you a moment later, beckoning you inside.

“It is finished, my lady,” You hold out the parcel in front of you. “Would you like to try it on?”

“I would love to,” The queen presses the palms of her hands together excitedly.

You follow her to the dressing screen and help her out of her current gown and into the new. Once it’s all fastened, she steps over to the large mirror by the wardrobe and gasps once she sees her reflection.

“(Y/N), this is absolutely beautiful,” She turns her body from side to side, looking at every angle, before shooting an ecstatic grin your way.

“If there is anything at all you would like changed or adjusted, just say the word,”

“Oh no, this is perfect,” She strides toward you, taking your hands in hers. “You are very skilled, (Y/N), you should be immensely proud of your work,”

Warmth flushes your cheeks at the compliment. “Thank you, my lady,”

“I won’t wear it today, since I’ve already been seen about the castle wearing something else. I don’t want to appear as a frivolous queen who changes her gown five times a day,” She grins. “I’ll wear it to the council meeting tomorrow, I think. If you can help me back into my other gown, I have something I want to discuss with you,”

You join the queen behind the screen again to help her undress. Once she’s back in her previous gown, she leads you to the table and you sit down together.

“Tell me, (Y/N), are you happy with your current situation in the lower town?”

Taken aback at the question, you’re unsure what to say.

“Please, be honest,” The queen says. “Is your shop doing well? Can you get by comfortably?”

You look down at your hands in your lap. “Truthfully, my lady, business is not so good,”

She gives you a sympathetic look. “I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable by asking you. I just wanted an idea what your situation was, before I made you any offer,”

“Offer?”

“I am very pleased with your work, (Y/N), and that is why I want to offer you the position of Royal Clothier,”

You stare, gobsmacked. “Me?”

“Yes, you,” She smiles. “I understand this is no small thing. If you accept, you would move into your own chambers in the castle. You would leave behind your current home and shop. However, as royal clothier, you will not need to rent your rooms as they come with the position. The chambers are fully furnished and well-lit, perfect for needlework,”

You listen intently, trying to absorb every word of what the queen is saying. No more worrying about making rent, no more hunching over your work in a dingy room, no more fretting about if and when the next job might come along.

“I know this is a lot to take in, so I don’t expect you to answer right away. You may have a few days to think it over,”

“I don’t need to think it over,” You blurt out. Of course you’re scared. It’s a huge change. But you can’t carry on how you are now. You know this has to be a step in the right direction, and not just a step forward, but a step up. “I accept the position,”

“That’s wonderful!” The queen grins. “Of course you must have a few days to pack up your belongings. Please let me know if you need any help, I can arrange for someone to assist you,”

“I don’t have much to move,” You admit. “I will be able to manage on my own. Thank you for your kindness my lady. I cannot express how much it means to me to be given this opportunity,”

The queen takes your hand in hers. “You deserve for your skill to be recognised, (Y/N). I am more than happy to help with that,”

Overcome from this kindness, you find it hard to keep your emotions in check.

“I can see that I’ve quite overwhelmed you,” The queen says, standing up. “I should let you get back home,”

You stand as well. “Thank you again, my lady. You can expect me in two days’ time. I won’t need any more,”

“Excellent,” She leads you to the door, and opens it partially, looking back at you. “Just one more thing, (Y/N). My name is Guinevere, but my friends call me Gwen, and I would like us to be friends,”

You smile. “So I should call you Gwen?” You confirm.

“Exactly. No need to call me my lady. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that,”

~

You make it back to the lower town at an alarming rate, your elated mood adding a spring in your step and speed to your gait.

Beginning your descent down the main street, a flash of scarlet ahead catches your eye. Four of Camelot’s knights on horseback are heading your way at a leisurely trot. You scan their faces, three of which you do not recognise, but the fourth you realise is the knight you met a few days ago, Sir Gwaine. Since the knights are riding, they are soon at your position in the street, three of the four passing by. Sir Gwaine slows his horse and comes to a halt, dismounting. He leads the horse by its reins and comes your way, greeting you with a smile.

“You look very pleased,” He says, stopping a few feet from you. “How goes your quest for the queen?”

You break into a smile. “She offered me the position of royal clothier, and I accepted,”

“Congratulations,” He grins, his delight seeming genuine. “I suppose I’ll be seeing you around, then?”

“Yes, I suppose you will. I will be living in the castle,”

“You’re moving up in the world,” He says, stroking his horse’s flank. “Anyway, I’d better get back. Duty calls. Until next time,” He gives a small wave and mounts his horse again.

[jakeotters]

HIIIII omg so uhm, first of all.. can I just say that I love your fics? Like I hecking love the fluffs you write, especially the Jonathan Crane ones!(he's my most favorite character xD OH AND THE RECENT IS SO CUTE AAA ps. the shark image reminds me of the shark meme looking on the side😭💗) So I went to your page to read more and I saw you take requests? I hope I asked this in the right time 😭 Recently I had this small idea and I guess its ooc but ack i hope not..but what if a Jackson Rippner x Innocent!Reader where Jackson comes home late a bit messed up and reader is so worried they thought he was a victim of some robbery or something when he was actually at work and stuff happened(Reader doesn't know his occupation like he doesnt tell them bc they are on the innocent side and he doesnt want to ruin their relationship by telling the truth for now) so like.. Reader ends up patching him up with comfort cuddles and I guess its his little reward for finishing the job? 👀 Id like to think that since he has this charming personality at first parts of the movie, hed use it to his leverage and Ig he gets good treatment for looking and sounding like the best bf ever and reader doesnt know what lies beneath the shell xD

Ps. Im so sorry again if its OOC 😭 I just like Innocent x protective troupes and its rare to find them for Jackson because usually the fics with him are like.. agressive nsfw hshshsh but idk why he just lowkey gives me that type of vibe hehe, I hope its not too muchie qwq💗

hello!! you’re so sweet, thank you so much. i’m so glad you enjoy my work 💖 thank you for this request, i haven’t gotten to write for jackson yet :)

nothing i can’t handle (jackson rippner x reader)

warnings: slight description of wounds but nothing graphic

author’s note: it’s a little ooc/not canon compliant but it’s such a cute idea!!

though it was late, the lights of your bedroom filled the house. you sat in bed, reading a book that you’d randomly grabbed off of the shelf in the room. your eyes lazily moved over the pages, using the words as a way to pass the time rather than for your own interest.

you turned your head to look at the clock, it was 1:54 a.m. while it wasn’t unusual for jackson to return home late, it wasn’t usually this late. you sighed; eyes returning to the book that was held in your hands.

jackson had never told you the details of what he did for work. you were too innocent— too naive. he found that charming, though; he found your innocence adorable. he was too far gone, too attached to you— completely enveloped by your innocence. he didn’t want to break that.

your eyes had started to close as you slowly dozed off. your eyes snapped open when you heard the front door open downstairs, closing quickly. you heard his footsteps ascend the stairs and watched as he made his way into the bedroom.

“jackson-”

your words were cut off when you saw his face. it was covered in dark bruises, small cuts lining his cheek and dried blood around his nose. the area under one of his eyes was dark and bruised, and a small cut sat on his bottom lip.

“jackson?! what happened to you?”

you rushed to stand up to him, eyes scanning his face for more injury. he shrugged.

“caught a guy trying to break into my car is all, wrong place at the wrong time, i guess.”

“he got you pretty good, jackson.”

you ran your fingers over his bruised cheek.

“nothing i can’t handle, sweetheart.”

what appeared to be a smile formed on his lips. jackson reached a hand up to brush his thumb against your cheek. you were adorable when you were worried.

“let me help you get cleaned up. stay here.”

you walked off to the bathroom attached to the bedroom. sitting on the edge of the bed, jackson untied his shoes and kicked them off. he took off his blazer, laying it on the bed. he unbuttoned his shirt, then his pants, dragging them off.

you returned a few minutes later, a damp washcloth in one hand and a box of bandages in the other. jackson was on the edge of the bed, left in his undershirt and boxers.

“just sit still.”

“be gentle, please.”

jackson smiled, his words dripping with the imitation of worry.

you raised the washcloth to the small cuts you saw on his face. he winced slightly when the warmth of the washcloth touched the sensitive, bruised skin. after a few minutes, you pulled the washcloth away.

“looks better already.”

you smiled and applied small bandages to his cuts, careful to not hurt him.

“lay down, i’ll be back in a minute.”

you picked up the washcloth and box of bandages and returned them to the bathroom. you walked back out, climbing into bed next to jackson.

when he turned to wrap his arms around you, you stopped him.

“oh? what’s this?”

jackson looked at you, his blue eyes searching through the innocence in yours.

“gonna hold you tonight, rippner. i think you deserve it.”

jackson was usually the one in control, but sometimes he enjoyed when you took over for him. he accepted your embrace when you wrapped yourself around him.

“just be careful from now on, please.”

jackson smiled when he heard your mumbled words come from where your head laid against his chest. the pain in his face was numbed by your warmth, and in these moments, he swore he wanted to tell you everything.

masterlist

[joshlmbrt]

Hiii back at it again with my Baron requests lol. Would you do one with established relationship and a reader who works at a pretty underfunded rural library, and a certain Babydoll Bandit dropping off some definetly not stolen cash to help reader? As always,thank you for sharing your work!

it’s definitely not stolen;). thank you for requesting and trusting me with it! i am very sorry that this took so long. thank you for being patient!! w; post-baron & short! other than that none!

you sigh when melvin, an older man who you grew up around and loved dearly, finished putting up the ‘CLOSING SOON’ sign.

the bell rings and he steps outside, slipping his hands into his brown khakis. he stops next to you, staring at the sign.

“i’ll miss it.” you cross your arms over your chest.

he gives a short chuckle and a nod. “me too, dear. but maybe it’s for the best,” he pats your back softly. “come on. let’s get back inside.”

you nod and follow him inside, arms dropped by your side dejectedly. you peek back at the sign, letting out a small sigh.

this library had been like a home away from home. you used to spend your summers sitting on the floor and reading fantasy books while melvin worked around you, enjoying your company after eden, his wife, had passed away.

“what would you like for lunch?” he asks, looking at you.

you step back into the library. “i’m not exactly hungry right now. but thank you for offering.”

“alright. if you are certain. i’ll be back in a few.”

“take your time.” you give him a kind smile, grabbing the books that rest on the counter. the bell rings and you watch him turn the corner. you smile drops and you turn back to placing the books onto the shelves that had a certain percentage off.

the bell rings and you make no effort to turn. “welcome to eden’s library. if you have any questions, don’t be afraid to ask.”

“thanks,” it’s a males voice. “but, i saw you were closing?”

you nod and finally turn. “sadly,” you pause when you look at the boys face. he was attractive. really attractive. “i… uh… it’s sad. but what can you do.” you shrug.

he gives a small smile. “do you have any, uh, stephen king books?” he tilts his head.

“oh. yes, we do. follow me.” you place the books down on a shelf, making your way towards the section that was labeled horror.

your finger trails over the printed labels, stopping at the S. “here you go.” you smile at him.

“thank you.”

“of course. if you have any more questions, don’t be scared to ask.” you walk past him, fumbling with your fingers. he looks back at you, a small smile on his lips. he drops the duffel bag, unzipping it and peeking inside.

he kicks it to the corner when he stands, grabbing a book and making his way towards the corner.

you look back up, leaving the books behind again and walk towards the counter, ringing up the book. “i love this book.” you slip a free bookmark in the front, sliding it back towards him.

“i haven’t read it yet. i’ve heard good things about it.”

you smile and nod. “you will not be disappointed.”

he taps the counter, grabbing the book and giving you a wink. “thanks. maybe i’ll see you around?”

you flush. “uh… maybe, yes.” you nod quickly. he gives you a kind smile, walking out of the library. you let out a small sigh, walking out from behind the counter, grabbing a couple of books.

you pass the horror section, pausing before backtracking. you tilt your head as your eyes land on the black duffle bag stuffed in the corner.

you slowly walk over, kneeling down and unzipping it slowly. your eyes widen when you see stacks of green, heart beating in your throat. “what-”

the bell rings.

“melvin!”

you hear footsteps behind you. “woah. who left that?”

“i… i don’t know,” you suddenly remembered that the boy who left not to long ago was carrying a duffle bag. but left without one. “i…” you turn to stare up at him.

he looks away from the cash before looking at you. “do you think that’s enough to pay the bills?”

you turn back to look at the cash, nodding. “yeah… yeah, this is more than enough.”

[roomsofangel]

CHAPTER THREE

call it fate, call it karma .ᐟ

wc 1.7k

if you’d like to be added to the taglist please either send an ask in my inbox or leave a comment to be added to the taglist! reblogs and comments are also very appreciated! ^_^

chapter warnings mentions of blood. implied violence. the timeframe being near halloween, so it’s mentioned — just a heads up for any readers of mine!

chapter starts off in a scene with hongjoong’s pov at first! but the rest is in y/n’s!

park seonghwa had a list.

and hongjoong kenned that if you figured out what was truly on it — you would turn your back on seonghwa again

after all, hongjoong always knew you best.

yet, he also knew he was the cause for all of this — your demise, seonghwa’s anger, not to mention being the granter for the villain san was today

it all fell back onto him.

but who could protest?

hongjoong was the god of fate and its never-ending doom — this was all he was ever going to be.

“you don’t have to do this again, seonghwa,” hongjoong’s voice was frail, his hand ghosting over his throat that was sore, coughing up metallic tasting crimson, “we don’t have to do this again.”

seonghwa lifted his best friend by the hair, tilting hongjoong’s head back harshly before seething into his ear, “then you should’ve stopped at the second life.”

your index finger traced the spine of the heavy book you held in your hands, dust and dirt covering the object with multiple layers — the entire library seonghwa had in his home reminded you of a ghost that could not stop haunting

and as if you were only going back to wail in your crime scene

the room as a whole didn’t twist your mind, it was the books that resided on every shelf. if someone asked you to, you were convinced you could recite every word from the thousand pages in there — even when you swore you haven’t picked them up before

seonghwa said he had to catch up with hongjoong — whatever that meant, you had to fight the question due to the fact you had endless more, your mother being safe and sound was your most recent worry that dissipated

you hoped to call her soon, even when she might want you to stay far away from her. trouble always followed you after all.

sighing, you set the book down, the stains of dirt clouding the tips of you fingers, your thoughts started to wander off more

hongjoong seemed so familiar, now that you were sitting down and thinking back with a calmer mind and not a desperate desire for survival — hongjoong felt more familiar than seonghwa did if anything

“you’re still awake?”

your body jumped up, eyes flinching before you lifted your head to see seonghwa who stood by one of the shelves, his hand helping him balance his weight so he could lean against it — “it’s nearly three in the morning,” he chuckled

blood.

blood stained his collar and you hated that you knew exactly who it belonged to, yet, you stayed quiet.

for now.

“i couldn’t sleep,” you sighed, standing on your feet to put back the book you failed to read, “how did your meeting with hongjoong go?”

he slightly flinched at the mention of the other, seonghwa putting on a poker face and smiled, his eyes told a different story on how he felt,

it was funny really, amusing even

him being the god of death, and yourself a mere human

yet, you were finding it so easy as time went on that reading him like your favorite novel came natural — you saw right through him as he did you

“it was okay,” he swallowed his distaste, “come, let’s get ready for bed,” his hand extended for you to hold

the first night was always the hardest, it could be implied for anything

but taking his hand to wash up and get ready to sleep — you were left with a foggy mind, because truthfully, this didn’t feel like a first night at all.

the sun was bright, bleeding through the maroon lacy curtains of seonghwa’s bedroom that you were residing with heavy blankets, the spot next to you empty

you almost wanted to believe everything that took place was a lucid dream — yet, his scent was heavy and where you were screamed otherwise

rubbing your wrist, you managed to pull yourself out of bed after contemplating if you should just yet, stumbling and wandering out and down the halls of his overly large home to find the kitchen

“morning,” you heard seonghwa, following with a sound of a mug getting placed down onto a marbled surface, “i didn’t think you’d be up so early, i was gonna go get you food,” he followed up with

“i don’t have much, people like us don’t eat.”

you knew what he meant, which also made sense when it came to sleep as well — “you didn’t sleep either?”

“those things aren’t necessary anymore, but i still can…” his eyes flicker to the window and then yourself again, you noticing a slight change in his mood, “it helps make me feel human.”

you nodded your head in understanding, moving so you could prop yourself up on the counter to sit

then as if it didn’t process before, it did now — what did he mean by anymore?

“do you have plans today?” he asked, almost as if he was trying to make your questions subside and focus on something else

and sadly it worked for now,

“i wanted to go to the café again, get my usual,” you noted, looking at him to try and pick apart his body language at the mention

“morning routine?” his mouth went dry it seemed, his hand taking the cup he placed down to take a drink, “i could go with you, i have to pick up a few things.”

humming, you shook your head, “don’t worry, i’ll go to a new café,” you tried to reassure him

and he wanted to believe you

you could see that

then he sighed, “no, you can go to the one you usually go to,” he cleared his throat, “just tell me if san bothers you again, okay? promise me that.”

and you nod, “i promise.”

plopping yourself down so you could scurry to change, you could’ve sworn you heard seonghwa mumble something

something along the lines of,

“because i don’t want to have to repeat fate.”

your nose twitched, sitting at the same table you enjoyed after ordering your usual tea, however this time you requested a new pastry they were having — ironically, it had to do with all things death, it was going to be halloween after all.

which only made you find everything even more ironic.

of course, you of all people, were getting married to the god of death during the month that has all sorts of creepy aspects attached to it

but that didn’t mean you hated it, october was still going to be your favorite month — this just… made it more complicated

you snapped out of your thoughts feeling an intense presence, wanting to assume it was seonghwa with the way it felt

the clink of a glass plate setting onto the table and seeing arm move a bit to set your drink down, your eyes flicker up to see a familiar face

san.

“you came back, eh?” he humored, his voice sending chills down your spine before he invited himself and took a seat across from you, “i liked these, they tasted like home,” he chuckled

referring to the skull shaped cookie that rested on your plate, you scoffed, “i come here every morning,” you tried to deescalate anything before it truly started

and san picked up on that,

you could tell.

“i don’t want any trouble, y/n,” he shook his head, “if anything, that’s the last thing i want.”

and you hated that you couldn’t see through him like you could seonghwa despite the fact he felt just as familiar too

“seonghwa told me i need to stay away from you,” you briefed, hand extending to grab your drink but his overlapped yours, eyes widening for a moment due to the sudden action

“and you suddenly let a man control your decision?” he rolled his eyes, laughing bitterly before you yanked your hand from underneath his, “my y/n never let a man tell them what to do.”

his y/n?

“excuse me?” it had came off more harsh than intended, but with the way san grinned — it seemed to have an opposite affect, if anything, you could detect the sinful undertones with the way he licked his lips

he laughed, “seonghwa isn’t the only one who can answer those questions of yours,” he arched a brow

blinking, you broke apart a piece of the cookie so you could distract yourself, “what do you mean, san?”

“ah, i love hearing that,” he sighed affectionately when you called him his name before his face went monotone, “but i sadly need to get back to what humans call a job,” he groaned, his hand’s gesturing to the line that was starting to build up and his human coworker calling out for his help

you laughed, despite the fact that the feelings you had weren’t amusing and instead, filled with terror on how you were going to explain any of this to seonghwa, “better get back to it,” you began to gather your things after placing the baked good piece into your mouth to get ready to leave and enjoy your drink elsewhere

“let’s meet again though, okay?” san pushed himself out of the seat, dusting himself off, “but without seonghwa knowing.”

your head sprung up at the mention of seonghwa’s name and it made san laugh, “you think i don’t know what he probably said to you?”

“not everyone is to be trusted, y/n, no matter how familiar they feel.”

and for some reason,

you feel as if you had been told that before,

“not even you?”

san blinked a couple times as if he was taken aback, you stared back at him suffering the overwhelming sense of deja vu

“especially not me,” he repeated words you heard before, except you could recall him not being the one who said them

you watched him walk away, hands starting to tremble as you gathered everything and made your way out, looking around before finding your car

and you froze, eyes landing on hongjoong who stood in front of your driver’s seat door, his eyes meeting yours instantly

yeah, deja vu was not going easy on you today.

PREVIOUS . . MASTERLIST . . NEXT

taglist (open)

[idolatrybarbie]

lbs!marcus masterlist

pairing: marcus pike x fem!reader

word count & rating: 1.9k | explicit - minor free zone!

summary: marcus loves you. you love him.

warnings: smut - oral sex (f receiving), sweetness, it's pretty straightforward. thee final installment of you and marcus in fairfax county, va.

You unstrap yourself from your shoes before you even get out of the car. Heels in hand, you pad across the still-frozen ground to the front door. It’s already unlocked, letting you twist the knob and open the door easily. The low buzz of a power drill whines from the shadowy living room, lamps casting a white-yellow glow down the hall to make up for the lack of an overhead fixture.

You left Marcus this morning with a couple pieces of unbuilt Ikea furniture. He decided that a Wednesday in mid-January was the perfect time to use a vacation day and build it all for you. Clearly, he’s still at it. You leave the skyscraper stilettos on the floor beside the coat rack, walking down the hall as a smile paints itself across your face. He is still in his Houston Astros shirt, grey sweatpants shifting as Marcus moves from sitting to kneeling over the small shelf he’s working on.

The floor creaks beneath you, alerting him to your presence.

“Hey babe,” he says, turning to look at you.

“Hey. How’s it going?”

“Almost done with this. I’ve got a few more screws, and she’ll be all done.”

You love that Marcus refers to things as if they were some grand sea ship, calling everything from the air fryer to this cheap hunk of plywood ‘she.’

“How was work?” Marcus asks.

“Fine. Same old.” Taking another step towards him, you wince. Marcus’ face morphs into a look of concern. “Those heels did a number on me, though.”

You haven’t worn much other than athletic footwear for the last nine months. Comfortable sneakers, supportive running shoes. High heels are the exact opposite of both those things. Not to mention, that specific pair is on the brink of falling apart. But they look so cute, you couldn’t help yourself.

Marcus stands, taking you into his arms. He presses a chaste kiss to your lips.

“Let me make you feel better,” he says.

“Marcus, you’ve been working all day,” you say.

“I sat on my ass for two hours watching that political fixer show of yours, which is why I’m not done yet,” Marcus tells you, shaking his head. “I’m fine. You’re not.”

“I’m fine, too.” Yet when you step back, a hiss slithers past your lips.

“You’re not,” he says again. “It’s no trouble. I want to.”

He’s already in your head, reading all the thoughts that pass through. You don’t want to hassle him. It’s no big deal. So on and so forth. He gives you a heart-melting stare, eyes round with softness.

You say, “Okay, yeah,” and he’s practically scooping you into his arms.

Marcus leads you up the stairs to your room with instructions to get on the bed. Laying flat on the mattress takes the pressure off your spine, your body flooding with relief. Marcus gets on his knees, kneeling at the end. He takes one of your feet into his hands, resting it in his lap before he starts to rub at the skin.

He gently works his fingers over your foot, thumb digging into your arch. You sigh at his touch, relaxing further into the pillows. Marcus soothes the ache in your first metatarsal with easy pressure. Standing at an incline for almost ten hours has done a number on your joints, the pain melting away as he continues his massage. You roll your ankle when he moves onto the next foot.

Opening your eyes, you’re quick to notice how Marcus stares at you. Your legs, specifically, thighs wrapped in sheer brown nylon. He looks like a kid on Christmas morning, enraptured, ready to tear you open.

“Like what you see, handsome?” you ask.

“Hmm?” Marcus hums, eyes back on your face in an instant.

“You’re staring at my thigh highs.”

“A man can’t appreciate his girl’s excellent taste in fashion?” he asks.

You remove your foot from his grasp, pressing your toes into the center of his chest. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say Marcus Pike has a bit of a stocking fetish.”

At your words, Marcus’ ears grow pink. His whole face is flushed, eyes crinkling as he smiles awkwardly. Realization dawns on you as he reaches to scratch the back of his neck, the conversation effectively dying. He does. You’ve caught him in a net of terrible awkwardness, laying here at an impasse.

“Marcus…”

“I know it’s weird,” he says.

“What? No,” you say. Sitting up, you shake your head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“You’re alright.”

“I don’t think it’s weird,” you assure him.

“Seriously?” Marcus asks.

“Of course not. I wouldn’t lie to you about that.”

Both kneeling before each other, you take his hand and drag it to the side of your leg. The synthetic fabric slips under his fingers. Feeling the texture of the nylon and your soft skin just beneath it stirs something in him. Pressing closer, you feel him hard against your hip.

You wrap your arms around his neck, kissing him deep and slow. His hands take their place at either side of you, sliding from the stockings up beneath your skirt. Marcus squeezes your ass, palming at you for a moment. Then he slips a finger beneath your underwear, pulling the elastic away from your body only to have it snap in place again.

“What do you want?” you ask, lips right by his ear.

“You,” he whispers. Hands at your waist now, he hugs you impossibly closer. Marcus ruts his hips into yours, breathing heavy. “Fuck…please.”

“If you want me, you have me,” you say.

Marcus pushes you back onto the bed with a little force, following you down. He meets you at the mouth, kissing you before trailing off to your cheek. He presses his lips against your jaw, down to your neck and collarbone. Through the material of your top, he kisses at your chest. Marcus bypasses your torso to mouth at the place where the bottom hem of your shirt and the cotton waistline of your skirt meet. He pulls your shirt up where it’s tucked against your stomach, kissing your belly. You giggle when he licks at the skin, tongue warm.

“Have I ever told you how much I love your new job?” he mumbles into your stomach.

“Hmmm. A little bit,” you say. Marcus nips at the skin over your ribs, making his way up your chest. You gasp quietly, continuing, “Said something about…you like seeing me happy at work.”

“Only part of it,” he says. Marcus has your shirt pushed up to your throat, bra on display for him. He slides a hand beneath you to unclasp the back. It releases from your body easily, letting him push it up and away from your breasts. You’re sure you look ridiculous swamped with clothes at the neck, but Marcus doesn’t seem to notice or care. He’s mesmerized with the pattern of your skin.

“What’s the other part, then?” you ask, trying to keep a straight face as he gently pinches at one of your nipples.

“You wear all these cute little outfits…the skirts, the stockings, the heels.” Leaning over, Marcus takes that nipple into his mouth, sucking harshly.

“You like the clothes?”

“You look so good. I can’t help myself. Just wanna—” He interrupts himself, resting his face in the valley between your breasts. Marcus takes a deep breath, inhaling the scent of you. “Just wanna bend you over the kitchen counter when I see you get home, take you right then and there.”

“Yeah?” you ask. Rubbing your thighs together does little to relieve the growing ache between them. Picturing your cheek laying against the cool countertop as Marcus hikes up your skirt at a moment’s notice is dangerous. “We should try it out sometime.”

Marcus pauses for a split second, brain registering what you’ve said.

“You’re going to kill me,” he says.

His fingers work to find the clasp of your skirt, unlatching it. Marcus pulls down the zipper at the side of your hip, bringing your underwear down with the other fabric. He follows the line of your leg with his nose as the bottoms slide off your body, getting all the way off the bed and onto the floor with your discarded clothes.

You sit up, both to watch him and to rid yourself of your shirt and bra. Fully undressed now, you note the contrast between his clothed body and yours, starkly nude. Heat creeps through your tummy, wetness reaching the inside of your thighs. You feel like a gift freshly unwrapped; a gourmet cake too good to eat as he regards you with that look. Marcus stares up almost reverently. This man would worship at your altar. You wouldn’t even have to ask.

He leaves your stockings on, nosing against your tibia. Light licks against the skin of your ankle make you shiver. Marcus kisses his way up your left leg, nuzzling the crook of your knee. He rests his chin against your kneecap, eyes focused as he watches you watch him.

“Have I told you how beautiful you are?”

“Today, or in general?”

“Every day,” he says, pressing a kiss to your thigh. “All day, all of the time.”

His hands inch closer to the middle of your body, fingers feather-light across the swell of skin. Marcus rejoins you on the bed, kisses getting firmer as he reaches level with your cunt. He leaves another kiss to your pelvis, readjusting to drag his tongue against your cunt.

You rub at his shoulders absently, one hand moving sidelong up his neck before fingers twine in his hair. You gasp when he nips at you, catching you off guard with a hint of teeth. You pull at his dark brown strands; Marcus groans against at the feeling. He pushes you further with the slip of a finger inside, gentle but insistent alongside his laps at your clit.

It doesn’t take long for him to have you twisting in bed, gasps stuttering as you tighten your thighs around the sides of his head. He brings you to the very edge before pulling back. Marcus noses at the crease of your thigh, finger smearing against the outer part of your hip as he holds you.

“I thought you were supposed to be making me feel better,” you sigh.

“What if I just like to take my time?” Marcus asks.

“Then I’d have to tell you to hurry it up.”

It’s all in fun. Any sense of pain from earlier has disappeared, Marcus’ soft touch drawing it from you easily. Still, your words spur him on. His finger slips back inside you, middle finger joining Marcus’ index. That little bit more, the faster pace he sets along with the slide of his tongue has you at the edge again in minutes.

He stops when you push him away, thighs twitching, breath ragged. In the time you’ve been with Marcus, you have learned that this is his favourite part. Still hard in his sweatpants, sure, but sated and satisfied. He mouths gently at the slope of your stomach, your hand at the nape of his neck.

Marcus sticks his tongue in your belly button, making you groan.

“You’re so weird,” you say.

“You weren’t complaining like, three minutes ago.”

“Different. You know it’s different.”

“Hmmm,” Marcus hums. He keeps his head halfway between your gut and your lap, breathing slow. “I love you.”

“I know.” He flicks you, hip smarting with the scratch. “I love you too.”

“That’s good.”

He’s right. It is.

[octoberobserver]

Those Days In Between - Sneak Peek 3

Continued from the Reddie-fucked-during-the-27-years-and-forgot-then-remembered snippet from here & here

“So we…lost our virginity to each other then?”

“Seems like it, Eduardo.”

“Huh.”

“Yeah. Huh.”

Tick, tock. Tick, tock.

“That sorta…changes things.”

Richie caught his eye.

“It does?”

“...Doesn’t it?”

Tick, tock. Tick, tock.

The clock seemed to be getting louder somehow.

“You want a drink?”

“What?”

Richie shrugged, breaking eye contact and gesturing to the half-empty bottle of bourbon on his coffee table. A ‘gift’ from Steve that read a lot like a bribe for him to go on James Cordon and explain his shock exit on stage and subsequent absence from the public eye.

There was not enough bourbon or top-shelf whiskey in the world to make him go anywhere near that vapid asshole.

But it was cute of Steve to think one bottle of 12-year-old Van Winkle would do it.

“I uh…I remember us drinking straight bourbon once or twice over the years,” he murmured as he crossed the room to get some of the fancy glasses out of the pristine, mostly empty liquor cabinet.

'Bout the only straight thing we did do.

“And I don’t know about you, Eds,” he coughed lightly, his face on fire, “but I feel like I need a drink for this conversation.”

Eddie merely hummed his response. Richie could feel his eyes trailing from one side of the room to the other and fought the shake it brought to his hands.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were in New York, Rich?”

“What?”

“Bev told me you’ve been in New York for the last three weeks. That you had coffee with her when she was in town last Wednesday.��

“Uh, yeah.”

“I live here, and you didn’t say a word. Why?”

“I dunno, man! Maybe it’s ‘cause I was worried that you’d burst in unannounced and say, ‘hey, we fucked like rabbits then forgot multiple times,’ and I’d have to deal with that Twilight Zone bullshit?”

Eddie’s face was pinched.

“Is that why you’ve been avoiding me since Derry?”

“I haven’t been avoid—”

“I called you four times over the last three months, and they went to voicemail every time.”

“Who calls these days, dude? I text you back—”

“You sent me some stupid Spongebob meme. That does not constitute ‘texting back.’”

“Eds—”

“I knew it,” Eddie shook his head, hands karate-chopping through the air. “It’s weird. You're weird. <i>We’re </i>weird. We’re not gonna be able to get past this, are we?”

Richie felt himself deflate, his entire body crumpling in on itself as a rush of images, rife with those days in between…those days in the twenty-plus years where they were forced apart by an evil, supernatural entity yet still managed to find one another. Someway, somehow.

He let out a long, deep breath and spoke to his glass.

“We don’t need to get past it, Eddie. It’s…it’s part of us, I think. Part of our history. And yeah, it’s a little weird that we forgot that we had sex a bunch’a times in the ‘90s and early ‘00s, but it’s not gonna break us, man. Not if we don’t let it.”

*************

idk if people are still interested in this but I've been finishing up Helpin' Hand and it has just been sitting unfinished in my google docs so I'd thought I'd share more @fandoms-are-gonna-kill-me @gravitykeith @allaboutthedrama @4nemo1egend

[nyxoz]

Congrats on 500!!! Would love a sweet Eddie proposal!

omg i squealed when i saw this request i love it!!!!! p.s. i stole this idea off of bride wars bc to me it’s the perfect proposal and if my future partner doesn’t propose this way i will be upset hehe 💓

The studio apartment you and Eddie have moved into was the definition of tiny, but you loved it because it was your space, together.

It’s your first night in your new home and there’s boxes stacked around the place, some opened and some still sticky taped shut. You’d only gotten everything up the stairs (cause the elevator was broken) about an hour ago, so you haven’t had a chance to unpack much just yet.

“I’m famished.” Eddie says as he puts some clothes in the dresser drawers.

“Famished, are you?” You chuckle, “Well, we can’t have that. What do you want for dinner?”

Eddie’s lips purse together as he thinks, his eyes looking upwards. “Oh! Oh!” He says excitedly, “There’s that Chinese place just around the corner?”

You nod as you stack a few books on a shelf, “Chinese sounds good to me.”

About thirty minutes later, you and Eddie are sitting on the floor in front of your bed, because you don’t have a table to eat on just yet, gorging on fried noodles, kung pao chicken, Peking duck, dumplings, and egg rolls.

Eddie is very badly using chop sticks because he’s refusing to use a fork. “I can do it.” He grumbled as you held a fork out to him.

You’re talking about how you want to put a tv on top of the dresser that lines the wall opposite your bed but Eddie doesn’t really seem to be paying that much attention. He almost looks nervous with how he’s poking at his food and avoiding your eye contact.

You chalked it up to him being a bit antsy over the move and your first night as real adults in your own place.

As you both call time of death on your feast, he backs up the meals straight away and puts the left overs in the fridge before grabbing something out of the plastic bag the food came in.

Eddie comes to sit back next to you and holds out two fortune cookies in the palm of his hand.

“Your fortune, m’lady.” He says, smiling.

Your fingers dance over both of them before grabbing the one on the left.

You crush the cookie in your hand and pull out the little piece of paper. You stuff your face with the cookie quickly before rolling the paper out and holding it to your face.

Swallowing down the treat, you read the small letters printed on the little white piece of paper.

You blink a few times, thinking you’re hallucinating. but nope, every time you open your eyes and reread it there’s four little words, one question, written on it.

Slowly you turn your head to Eddie and he’s there smiling shyly with wide big brown eyes and holding something out in both his hands.

It’s a small box. A blue velvet box and nestled inside is a diamond ring. it’s very small and dainty but definitely cost Eddie everything he has saved.

You look back up to his face and he takes a breath before he speaks. He looks so nervous.

“Y/N,” he starts, “I love you. So much that you’re all I think about everyday. I wonder when I’m going to see you next, what we’re going to do that day, if I can get you to do that cute little snort when you laugh,”

Your eyes are blurry now and you let out a snotty giggle.

“I want you. For the rest of my life. I want you on your good days and your bad days. I want you when you’re happy and sad. I want you when you’re old and wrinkled and you’re telling our grandkids off for flying their hoverboards too high,”

You’re fully crying now, but laughing along with him. His smile is big and there are creases around his mouth.

“I want you forever. Will you marry me?”

You nod fast and all but collapse against him. He catches you against his chest, holding you close as you cry into his neck, his hair tickling at your face.

“Yes, yes, yes. A million times yes!” You say, pulling away and looking at him.

He laughs and smiles down at you, tears pricking at his eyes too. Leaning down, he captures your mouth with his, pressing a hard kiss against you.

Pulling away, his attention comes down to the box still in his hand. He holds it between you and grabs the ring in a shaky hand. You hold your left hand up, shakily as well, and he slips the ring onto your ring finger.

You swallow deeply, trying to compose yourself as you look down at the ring.

Here you are, on the floor of your small new apartment, dressed in gym gear and still sweaty from the move, feeling happier than you ever have in your entire life.

“I love you.” You say looking up at him.

“I love you. Forever.” He says.

You give a snotty laugh and lean forward to kiss him again, “forever.” You say against his lips.