#maybe i do a proper think and go into more

[michhawk]

I Yield

(Beach Section Part 1) Ex - (G)-IDLE Soojin x male reader smut

Tags: Cunnilingus, Body Worship | Words: 1,9k

I yield.

That is the only thought that came across your mind when you see her.

Soojin, with all its beauty and glory, standing there with you in the room, just the two of you.

Can you feel all the excitement? The anxious feeling you must be familiar with knowing that the only thing stopping you from indulging yourself of her is some flirtatious words and maybe some foreplay.

“Hey, are you just going to stare?” Soojin asks, snapping you of your imagination.

“Is he nervous? Alright, let’s do something to loosen him up, after him.”Soojin thinks to herself.

Get your mind together, you got ONE shot at this!

You brace yourself and you walk closer towards Soojin. Your heart can’t seem to be calmer, you think by how loud the sound your heartbeat makes, Soojin might heard it. In truth, Soojin can see it all over your face, Soojin just finds it cute as she throws a little smirk.

You close your distance with her and pull her into a hug. You can get a good a feeling of her slim body. Her back, her waist, and especially her soft cute ass. Soojin can tell your intention, and she tries to get a good feeling about it.

“Mh-hmm,” Soojin murmur as the result of you squeezing her ass. You take it as a good sign, a sign of acceptance, a sign to keep going.

Soojin’s hands are not idle as she does the same squeezing your ass and slapping it.

*SMACK*

“Ugh,” you grunt. Yes, now you are sure Soojin does not wish to wait around.

Soojin then goes to wrap one of her arms around your neck, pulling you into a kiss. The kiss contains a lot of passion. You can understand Soojin’s feeling that she wishes this to happen the first time you and her inside this room.

You put your mouth to hers and begin kissing her. Putting out your tongue, so does she. You both continue exchanging saliva, feeling each other presence in the moment.

For a good minute, you and Soojin continue to touch around each other, feel the heat continue to build up around each other. Your hand keeps switching between squeezing her ass and brushing her pussy through her underwear.

Soojin squirms every time she feels your hand playing with her pussy. Each time your hand squeezing her ass, Soojin feels hornier and thus making the kiss hotter.

After some more touching, she pulls out from the kiss.

“That was nice, how about we continue on the bed?” Soojin asks. You can see Soojin’s face is red fill of excitement and eagerness. And in Soojin’s mind she can only think about sex.

You and Soojin walk to the bed in the room. You both sat down and just stare at each other for a moment. You can feel it in the air, the pent-up emotion to just jump on her and go wild. But you know you need to do a proper preparation to fully satisfy her.

Thus, you begin pulling her by the chin closer to you for another kiss. Then you go to kiss her cheek and slowly moving towards her ear. While doing so, you use one of your hands to fondle her tits and your other hands to untie her bra.

Soojin is letting out heavy breath because of the feeling of your touch on her tits. While the feeling is certainly captivating, she also wants to do some work on you. Using her hands, she strokes your now erect cock through your boxer.

“Mmm, so hard for me, eh?” Soojin ask with her sultry voice.

You hear what Soojin says, but you choose to not answer her verbally. Instead, you choose to show her how horny she makes you feel right now.

You start by moving your kiss to her neck area, giving her some love bites while at it as well. By doing so, you hear Soojin’s gasp, a sign you do something right. Then you go on to kiss your way downward to her now expose tits.

Soojin closes her eyes, just feeling everything you do to her body. Occasionally she imagining how you will take her through this session. Feeling your mouth on her tits, she lets out a gasp and occasional moan. She can feel herself lost in her own thoughts, and when she realizes, she is already laying on the bed, one hand playing with her nipple and the other is on your head trying to tell you to keep going.

You really like nibbling on her tits. Sometimes you give her nipple and her chest a lick to show your appreciation of her body. You can feel her hand on your head, gripping your hair slightly.

While Soojin is playing with her nipple, you continue licking her chest and her side boob. You also use your free hand to play with her pussy, rubbing it through the cloth. Every time you take a small bite around her chest, you can feel her hips goes up and down trying to rub her pussy to your hand.

Soojin still letting you do your things; she only lets out occasional moan telling you to keep up with your work. She also feels your tongue quite active in terms of pleasuring her. Soojin then open her eyes slightly to see that you lift her left hand up showing her armpit. She feels a little self-conscious but curious on your next action.

You want to show Soojin, how grateful you are to have her here right now. You want to show how lucky you are to have her, laying on her back right now. What you do after lifting her hand is something Soojin never expects.

After putting out your tongue to lick her side boob, you slowly move your head towards her arm. While still licking her, you continue to move your head closer to her armpit.

Once you arrive, you take a whiff before you go on to lick her armpit furiously.

Soojin gasp and moan by your sudden aggression, she never expects such act to be shown by people like you.

“Isn’t it kind of sweaty? How is he liking it?” Soojin thinks to herself.

But those thoughts don’t linger long, because your finger does not want to lose on the aggression itself. Soojin lets a heavy sigh feeling your finger trying to penetrate her pussy through the fabric cloth. Soojin closes her eyes again, feeling your enthusiasm on her armpit as well as your skilled hand work on her pussy.

After you feel enough on her armpit, you move your attention towards her pussy.

Your hand that was on her underwear doesn’t feel dry, meaning Soojin is turn on enough. Thus, you go ahead and move your head towards her pussy, by licking her tummy all the way to her thighs area.

Soojin opens her eyes, to see how you will take the next step “worshipping” her.

She sees you caressing her thighs. Opening the way to her pussy slowly. But you don’t go to her pussy yet.

Instead, you linger on her thighs. Licking it and kissing it.

Soojin sees your action and only lets out a small moan each time you get your mouth close to her pussy entrance. At this point, she can tell you are not someone who is just thinking about pleasuring themselves, someone who is selfish. She can see how caring you can be.

While you are busy licking and kissing her thighs, you can also hear her whimpers every time you get close to her pussy.

Without wasting anymore time, you latch your mouth to her clothed pussy. You don’t want to take it off yet, just a little more to tease her. Soon she will feel irritated and will force you to go and claim her pussy.

Soojin gasp by your sudden movement to her pussy. Even though she still wears her underwear, she can feel your wet tongue trying to eat her. She doesn’t have time to take a second to think about how you should go on, at this moment she is lost in her own mind seeking only pleasure.

After a few seconds enjoying yourself between her thighs, it is time to get a bit more serious.

You go ahead and pull her underwear, revealing her dripping wet pussy. Looking at it can make anyone hungry, and you are no exception.

After you come back to your senses, you instantly latch your mouth to her pussy. Now without any obstacle, you can freely explore her most erogenous part. You can say that she has that tangy taste to her pussy juice. You like it.

Soojin can’t seem to get a break from constant moaning and gasping due to your aggressive behaviour.

And now that your mouth and her pussy is truly connected, Soojin can’t seem to think straight anymore. She can feel your tongue exploring her insides, sometimes flicking her g-spot causing her hips to buckle up.

You are enjoying this moment full of lust and desire to taste her.

You notice her reaction when you put your lips on her clit, or when you lick her sensitive spot inside her pussy. Because of that you continue in pleasuring her, by hitting those sensitive spots to trigger more reaction of her.

Soojin’s mind can only focus on one thing and that is to reach her orgasm.

With you focus on working her pussy using your mouth, Soojin uses one of her hands to pinch and play with her nipples while the other gripping your hair to give you a signal that she wants to cum.

You can tell by her hand gripping your hair getting harder, and her hips constantly pushing her pussy to your mouth, Soojin is close to cumming.

With that you speed up your work, switching between licking and sucking her clit, to furiously licking inside her pussy.

Soojin can’t hold it anymore, she grips your hair harder, almost feels like she is trying to pull your hair.

“Auuh, I am CUMMING!” she exclaims.

Soojin reach her first climax of the night, her body tense up and quiver riding through that feeling.

Soojin heart beats real fast, and she can feel it. This is what she has been waiting when you and her step into this room. And you deliver.

You suck up her pussy juice, tasting the result of your passionate work throughout her body so far. My, it tastes so good.

You enjoy licking her pussy before lifting yourself up to see that Soojin still laying in trance after cumming.

“Hey, earth to Soojin?” you ask with a non-serious tone.

“I admit, you are good with your tongue.” Soojin replies with ragged breath.

Soojin is placing one of her hands over her eyes, she still trying to get her mind together.

“When you lick my armpit, is that your fetish?” Soojin ask still with her uneven breathing, just trying to make a small talk.

“I guess…” You say back with a low tone voice, while moving closer besides her.

When Soojin removes her hand from her eyes, she sees you laying besides her, with the looks of waiting for her to get ready for the next step.

Soojin pulls you for another kiss, this time it is slightly softer than before, as she is trying to regain her focus.

While kissing you, Soojin use one of her hands to reach into your boxer to stroke your cock.

You know that the session is still not over, you have not got your fair share of pleasure, well besides licking her body.   

But for now, the thoughts of making her your woman will have to wait. You may feel overwhelmed, but by doing what you can do best will eventually lessen the burden you put yourself into conquering the problem.

================================================

Author's Note: THANK YOU FOR THE LOVE OF THE PREVIOUS WORK, IT WAS MY FIRST EVER SMUT, AND NEVER EXPECT THAT MUCH ATTRACTION.

Anyway, this one is a draft i had beside the previous work, hope you guys like it, yet this is not over, as there supposed to be part two!!!!!

STAY TUNED!

[ackermanrage]

ʟɪᴘꜱᴛɪᴄᴋ ᴄᴏɴꜰᴇꜱꜱɪᴏɴꜱ

levi ackerman x fem!reader warnings: none :) an: finally some levi fluff hehe~ i saw a fic like this a long time ago and decided to recreate it 😊

You stood near Levi’s desk, arms crossed and a teasing smirk on your lips as he finished adjusting the straps on his gear. The early morning light poured in through the window behind him, casting his office in an amber glow—warm enough to soften even the infamous scowl on his face.

“You’re triple-checking your harness like a rookie,” you said lightly.

“I don’t intend on dying because of a loose strap, brat.”

“You don’t intend on dying, period,” you corrected, walking over and gently pulling his cravat tighter around his neck. “Besides, you’ve got someone to come back to now.”

Levi’s eyes flickered up to meet yours. That intensity—the one only you ever got to see soften.

“I don’t need a reminder,” he said lowly.

You didn’t break eye contact. Instead, your fingers trailed from his cravat up to his cheek. His hands instinctively found your waist, steadying you, grounding both of you in that rare and quiet intimacy that existed only behind closed doors.

He glanced at you sideways. “What are you doing?”

“This,” you whispered, and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

He sighed, as if he were already exhausted by your antics—but you didn’t miss the way his fingers flexed at his side.

“Are we really doing this right now?”

“Mmhmm,” you murmured, lips grazing his jaw. “Before you go risking your life, I think you deserve a proper goodbye.”

Another kiss—lower this time, brushing the underside of his jaw.

Then one near his ear.

Then one just above his collarbone.

He shifted slightly, but still didn’t stop you. Maybe he didn’t want to.

“Don’t get carried away,” he muttered.

“You love it.”

“You’re leaving marks.”

You leaned in and said sweetly, “I'm not.”

Another kiss, slow and possessive, right at the side of his throat.

Levi let out a breath through his nose and fastened his cravat lazily over it. “You done?”

You tapped your chin in thought, then kissed his mouth once—quick and warm.

“Now I’m done.”

He adjusted his jacket, grabbed his gloves—but didn’t notice the trail of lipstick evidence decorating his pale skin.

You, of course, stayed completely quiet.

As he stepped toward the door, he glanced at you once more, his tone softer now.

“Try not to miss me too much.”

You gave a slow, coy smile. “Too late.”

---

The morning chill hadn’t yet burned off. The squad stood in a loose circle near the horses, the kind of barely-coordinated gathering that usually only happened when Levi hadn’t arrived yet.

Eren was yawning. Jean was pacing. Mikasa was already fully prepared and silently judging everyone else.

“Where the hell is he?” Jean muttered, shifting his weight. “Captain’s never late.”

“Maybe he’s sick,” Connie said, brows raised. “Or like, sleeping in.”

“Maybe a Titan ate him,” Sasha added helpfully, chewing on a hunk of bread.

Mikasa didn’t say anything, but her eyes were on the HQ building like a hawk.

Then—footsteps.

Levi emerged from HQ, striding toward them with his usual quiet confidence. Scouts jacket. Bladed gear. Blank expression. Standard-issue everything—

Except the very obvious lipstick mark on his left cheek.

And the one half-hidden under his jawline.

And the faint pink blur at the base of his neck, slightly covered by his scarf but still peeking out.

He didn’t notice.

But they did.

Hange blinked once.

Sasha choked on her bite.

Armin visibly froze, as if trying to compute a math equation that broke physics.

Jean stepped back like he’d seen a ghost.

“...What the fuck is that?” Jean muttered. “Does anyone else—? Am I losing it?”

“Wait—waitwaitwait,” Connie gasped, grabbing Armin’s arm. “Look at his face. Look at his face.”

“I am looking at his face,” Armin whispered. “There’s lipstick. There’s definitely lipstick.”

One mark near the edge of his jawline.

Another just under his ear.

A third on the side of his neck.

A faint smear on his collarbone, barely hidden by the cravat.

Hange turned, took one look at Levi, and let out a loud, delighted cackle. “HOLY SHIT.”

“Are those—?” Sasha started.

“Lipstick,” Mikasa confirmed, arms crossed.

Jean took a step back like he’d seen a ghost. “Who the hell kissed Levi Ackerman?”

Eren squinted. “That… that can’t be real. That’s Levi. He doesn’t—he doesn’t do kissing.”

“LOOK AT HIS FACE!” Jean barked, pointing. “Someone full-on made out with him before he got here!”

Moblit looked like he was glitching. “Did we enter a parallel universe?”

Levi stopped walking. His expression was blank, jaw tight, but he could feel all eight of them staring holes through him.

He considered just mounting his horse and leaving without a word.

But no.

Too late now.

“What,” he said flatly, “are you all gawking at?”

“Captain,” Armin started delicately, “you… seem to be wearing… um…”

“Several very vibrant statements of affection,” Hange supplied. “In Rich Rosewood. Excellent shade, by the way.”

Levi glared. “Tch. It’s none of your business.”

“You’re covered in it,” Sasha said, voice an octave too high. “It’s everybody’s business now.”

“You’ve got kisses all over your damn face,” eren said, incredulous.

Levi frowned. “I do not.”

Mikasa reached into her pocket and whipped out a tiny compact mirror. “Check the evidence, sir.”

He looked into it.

Pause.

A longer pause.

His expression didn’t change—but his eyes did.

“…Shit.”

Connie exploded. “WHO KISSED YOU?!”

“No way this was just one kiss,” Sasha breathed. “This was like—a storm.”

Armin looked genuinely distressed. “Captain, are you in a relationship? Like—a real one?”

Hange’s grin stretched ear to ear. “Oh my god, it makes so much sense. You've been disappearing more. Staying late in meetings that mysteriously don’t involve any of us. That mysterious bruise on your neck last month. The weird good mood. This is huge.”

Levi adjusted his cravat again, this time higher, but it was far too late.

He considered lying. Brushing it off.

He sighed.

“I’m seeing someone,” he said, voice sharp as steel.

Sasha screamed.

Connie dropped to his knees. “THE WORLD ISN’T REAL.”

Jean’s eyes narrowed. “Wait. Wait, wait. Who is it? Who could it possibly be?”

“It’s not your concern,” Levi said calmly, starting toward his horse.

“It absolutely is our concern!” Jean cried. “We’re invested now!”

“Are they in the Corps?” Armin asked, trying to keep the tone respectful. “You can just say yes or no. Blink twice.”

“No,” Levi replied. “But yes.”

Moblit whispered, “What does that even mean?”

“Are they hot?” connie asked.

Levi didn’t answer.

“Oh my god,” Hange murmured, looking skyward. “It’s y/n, isn’t it?”

Levi froze mid-step.

And that silence said everything.

Eren howled. “YOU’RE DATING HER?! SHE’S LIKE—THE COOLEST PERSON IN THE ENTIRE BRANCH!”

“She could punch all of us and I’d say thank you,” Sasha added.

Jean shook his head slowly. “I didn’t even think you liked people.”

“I don’t,” Levi muttered. “She’s an exception.”

Mikasa was quiet, but the smallest, faintest smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “She makes sense for you.”

Levi mounted his horse without further commentary.

Everyone watched him like he was a newly crowned deity.

“When did this happen?” Armin asked.

“None of your damn business.”

“Do you love her?” Sasha blurted.

Levi paused. “Irrelevant.”

“OH MY GOD YOU LOVE HER,” Jean screamed.

“Like. Deep,” Sasha whispered.

“You guys gonna get married or—?” Connie started.

“Enough,” Levi barked. “Anyone who brings this up on the mission gets left in the forest.”

Hange sang out. “This is the best day of my life.”

“Shut up.”

“You can’t stop us,” Connie said proudly. “This is the tea of the year.”

“Connie,” Levi deadpanned, “do you want a concussion?” "But you gotta admit captain, you're down bad." Eren said, smirking.

Levi turned around. But from the way his shoulders tensed ever so slightly, the answer was clear.

And he still didn’t wipe off the lipstick.

©ackermanrage - please do not copy, translate, or plagiarize my work!

[orellazalonia]

i love your blog and writing style so much! reading x reader fics is my only type of comfort (besides my cat) so you're making my days better and more bearable i'm really thankful for that! 😭🌷

soo i wanted to ask you to write a fic for me 🥺 i literally have NO ONE like no friends (i have 3 or 2 but not 'friends' friends you know?) and my family is messed up i feel like i have no one in my corner and i would love love love if you write something like reader is lonely and bucky goes in her life and etc etc i would be SO thankful if you choose to write this and if you don't, don't worry you're already making my days better while writing your fics 🤍🩶

Hello, dear! I’m glad you have enjoyed my work and that they’ve been of comfort to you! I appreciate the kind words. It was nice completing your request since I could relate to some of it and always enjoy writing some hurt/comfort. However, I do hope you find some good friends or people you can turn to someday! Thank you for the request and I hope you enjoy! Happy reading!!!

Stayed Through it All

Summary: You’d spent most of your life convinced you were too quiet, too much, not enough for anyone to stay. But then Bucky Barnes started showing up in your life slowly and gradually became the first person who made you feel like you didn’t have to be anyone or anything else to be enough.

Word Count: 3.6k+

Main Masterlist

You didn’t mean to let it get this bad.

You didn’t even notice when the loneliness stopped feeling like something temporary and started becoming something permanent.

It was probably after your friend stopped texting back to hang out with their new friend. Maybe it was after your father stopped returning your calls, blaming you for being “too much” when all you’d done was cry quietly on the phone one night. Maybe it was the way your mother’s voice always sharpened when you dared to mention being tired. “You think you have it hard?”

Eventually, you stopped sharing at all. Even in the smallest ways. You nodded along to your coworkers' stories, laughed at the right times, learned to say “I’m good, you?” like a reflex.

But one day turned into a week, then a month of missed calls and unanswered messages. Not that there were many to begin with. Your friends, if you could still call them that, had slowly drifted, slipping into group chats you were no longer in. Family remained… complicated. Cold shoulders wrapped in guilt-trips and sharp words. You’d grown tired of pretending you didn’t notice when they began talking around you instead of to you, or when they only reached out to check boxes you didn’t fit in rather than check on you.

Work had been your only escape, but even that now felt fragile. Hours were cut, supervisors were vague or micro-managing, and you faced an endless stream of people who smiled right through you. It was like being invisible while still somehow feeling too much.

Too sensitive. Too strange. Too needy. You hated how easily you cried these days. How easily you cracked.

It got harder to go home after work with each passing day. The silence in your apartment was different now. It wasn’t peaceful anymore, it reminded you of every thought and thing wrong about yourself. How you must have done something wrong for people to not want you around. How you couldn’t host dinners or parties because there was no one to invite. How even living in this apartment was seen as another disappointment rather than an achievement by your family.

Maybe that’s why you started walking at night, even though you claimed it helped you sleep. Sometimes it did. Sometimes you wandered until your legs ached, until your phone’s battery blinked red. It wasn’t safe, but you didn’t care. You weren’t reckless, you just didn’t feel like you belonged anywhere long enough to be missed.

That night, you weren’t planning to go far. You’d just needed air. You hadn't even bothered with proper shoes, just slipped on your jacket and walked. The streetlamps buzzed overhead as a breeze tugged your hair across your face.

You focused on the ground as you rounded the corner of a quiet street, when you almost ran straight into him.

“Oh–sorry,” You said, stepping back instinctively, your hand pressed to your chest. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

The man raised his hands slightly in a gesture of peace. His eyes were sharper than the streetlamp above you, but not unkind. “You okay?”

You blinked. He was wearing a hoodie and gloves, but you’d seen enough photos on newsfeeds and headlines to know exactly who he was. “You’re… Bucky Barnes.”

He looked surprised for a split second, like he hadn’t expected to be recognized. “Yeah,” he said softly. “I am.”

You gave a small, breathless laugh. Not because it was funny, but because your nerves were starting to catch up. “Didn’t expect to bump into an Avenger tonight.”

“Didn’t expect to get bumped into,” He replied, something vaguely teasing in his tone. “But it’s alright.”

There was a pause. You shifted awkwardly, hugging your arms around yourself. “Sorry if I messed up some kind of mission or something.”

His brow furrowed, then smoothed. “Not exactly a mission, just walking the neighborhood. Making sure things are quiet.”

You nodded. “They usually are.”

He tilted his head slightly, studying you in that quiet way that made you feel like he was seeing too much. “You’re out here a lot.”

You hesitated. “That supposed to be a warning?”

His expression softened immediately. “No–no, I didn’t mean it like that. Just… noticed. That’s all.”

You gave a small shrug, trying not to look embarrassed. “It’s quieter out here than it is at home.”

Something in his eyes changed, recognition. “Yeah,” He said quietly. “I get that.”

You looked at him then. His hood couldn’t hold the weight behind his eyes nor could he hide the way exhaustion lived in his posture. You didn’t know all the details, but the world had made sure you knew enough.

“I’m fine,” You added, mostly out of habit.

“Are you?” He asked gently.

You swallowed, glancing away. “I don’t know.”

There was another moment of silence before he took a slow step back, giving you space. “Do you want company? Just to walk. I won’t talk if you don’t want me to.”

You hesitated. Your gut said no. You didn’t let people in, couldn’t. Not anymore. But your heart, the part that had been bruised and stretched thin and aching for something steady whispered yes.

“…Sure,” You said. “Walking with someone sounds… nice.”

He nodded, falling into step beside you. “And what should I call you?”

You glanced at him and smiled softly, giving him your name. And for the first time in what felt like forever, it felt like someone might care enough to remember it.

You never said it out loud, but you started looking for him.

Not in an obvious way. Not with expectation. But your heart would lift, just a little, whenever you turned the corner and saw him there. Hands in his pockets, hood pulled low, and watching the world like it might turn on him at any second until he saw you. Then he softened.

He never greeted you loudly. Just a simple, “Hey,” or a nod, like you’d both agreed long ago that this was normal.

And somehow, it became exactly that. Normal.

It wasn’t every night of course, but it was often enough that absence felt strange. A small ache in your chest when he wasn’t on the corner. You told yourself it was fine, that he had a life, a job, a past filled with shadows. You weren’t owed anything.

But you missed him anyway.

There were other nights where you spoke in fragments.

“What do you do when you can’t stop thinking?” You’d asked once, voice barely audible.

“Walk,” He’d said. “Or hit things.”

You’d laughed, and he’d smiled, just a little.

Other nights, it was quiet. Just walking. Just being near someone who didn’t expect anything from you. Someone who didn’t need you to perform happiness or push down your grief.

Bucky never asked about your family. He never pried. But you could tell he knew something wasn’t right. He noticed the tension in your shoulders. The way your voice got flat when you mentioned home. The way you avoided talking about weekends or holidays altogether.

But he didn’t force you to explain. He just stayed.

And on one Tuesday night, you realized something.

You’d left work exhausted, your brain buzzing from a manager’s sharp words and the hollow ache of pretending to be okay all day. You weren’t thinking about much when you turned the corner that night and there he was.

Same spot. Same faint, crooked smile when he saw you.

And it hit you: he was waiting.

Not just showing up. Not just passing by. He was waiting for you.

You swallowed thickly, not trusting yourself to say much.

“Hey,” You managed.

“Hey,” He said, falling into step beside you.

Like always. Like routine. Like something steady that just kept growing.

Because the next night, he was there again. This time, with two paper cups.

“Tea,” He said simply, holding one out to you. “Figured I’d guess this time.”

You took it, your hands feeling the warmth from the cup.

“…You always this nice?” You asked softly, only half teasing.

He glanced at you. “No.”

You smiled faintly. “So why with me?”

He looked away, the way he always did when he was thinking too much. “Because you remind me of me,” He said finally. “Back when I thought no one saw me.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

“…I see you,” You whispered.

He looked at you then, something softening in his expression. “I know.”

And that was the night you stopped pretending it didn’t mean anything. The night you realized you weren’t just walking anymore. You were building something. And Bucky Barnes was becoming part of it.

One afternoon, you didn’t expect to see him in the daytime.

Your connection lived in the quiet hours. After sunset, under flickering streetlamps, where shadows were long and words were soft. That was your world. The only time you felt allowed to exist without needing to explain yourself.

But then came Saturday and there he was.

You spotted him from across the street. His hands in the pockets of his jacket. He looked more like a guy running errands than a former assassin on patrol.

He saw you at the same time, gave a little lift of his chin and crossed the street with purpose. You froze halfway to the bus stop, unsure why your stomach flipped the way it did.

“Hey,” He said, a little breathless, like he’d hurried.

“Hi,” You replied, confused but smiling anyway. “Didn’t think I’d see you in daylight. Thought you were strictly nocturnal.”

Bucky actually chuckled, quiet and rare. “Yeah, well… I wasn’t sure if this would be weird.”

Your brow furrowed. “What?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “I was gonna grab lunch. There’s this spot a few blocks away. It’s tiny, but kind of quiet. I figured I’d ask if you wanted to come.”

You blinked. It took you a full second too long to register what he meant.

“Oh,” You said. “Like… lunch. Together?”

“Yeah,” He said, then quickly added, “Just food. I mean, not like–unless you–hell, I’m bad at this.”

You bit back a laugh. “You’re fine. I just… didn’t expect that.”

“I figured,” He said, eyes scanning your face. “If you say no, it’s okay. We can just stick with nightly walks.”

That made your heart ache in a way you didn’t expect.

Because part of you wanted to say no. Not because you didn’t want to go. But because some part of you was convinced you’d ruin it. That he’d realize you weren’t enough.

That someone like him who was kind, observant, and careful, wasn’t meant to stick around people like you. People who carried too much in their chest and didn’t know how to set it down.

But then you looked at him. Bucky Barnes who had every reason to close himself off and still offered you tea when you were shaking, and quiet when you needed space.

And he was asking to spend time with you. Not out of pity. Not out of obligation. Just… asking.

You nodded. “Okay.”

He blinked. “Yeah?”

You smiled. “Yeah. Lead the way.”

The place was small and tucked between a bookstore and a laundromat. It was the kind of quiet that didn’t feel empty, just calm. You sat across from each other at a little table by the window. And for the first time, you talked in full sentences. About music. Food. The ridiculous number of people who apparently still thought Bucky liked plums because of some file Steve mentioned once.

You laughed more than you had in weeks. He smiled more than you’d ever seen.

You caught him watching you a few times, like he couldn’t quite believe you were there. And every time, your heart did that quiet, painful twist that came with realizing someone actually wanted you around.

You didn’t talk about family. Or trauma. Or loneliness. But you didn’t need to. Not yet.

Because for now, you let yourself sit across from a man who kept showing up. And for once, you didn’t feel like a burden for accepting it.

When it ended, you both had exchanged numbers and you smiled the whole way home. Not a big, giddy grin. Not the kind that buzzed with new love or rose-colored excitement. Just a small, warm curl at the corner of your mouth that wouldn’t go away.

Because the lunch had been… easy. Natural.

You didn’t remember the last time you’d felt like that with someone. Just sitting across from them and not having to work so hard to be interesting, or likable, or fun. You hadn’t needed to fill the silence, because Bucky never made silence feel like failure.

And he’d even paid, grumbled a little about modern pricing, but still held the door open when you walked out.

You should’ve felt safe. Happy. But of course, that voice came back. The one that always did when something good happened.

He was just being polite. He probably felt bad for you. You talked too much. Or not enough. Or said something weird. He’s probably second-guessing it now.

You told yourself to stop, that none of it was true. But you’d lived most of your life watching people lose interest in you like clockwork. So instead of walking with that same lightness you felt at the table, you found yourself shrinking again.

Head down. Hands in your jacket pockets. Smile fading, bit by bit

And to your surprise, texted later that evening.

Just a simple:

Made it home okay?

You stared at it for a full minute.

Then typed:

Yeah, thanks. And… thanks again for lunch. I really appreciated it.

You added a second message, hesitating.

You didn’t have to do all that.

You almost deleted it. But your finger slipped, and it sent.

A minute later, he responded:

Didn’t do it because I had to.

Another pause and he sent another message.

I wanted to.

You stared at those three words for a long time.

The next night, you almost didn’t go on your walk. You weren’t sure if he’d be there. If it would be weird now. If the quiet thing you’d built would somehow be different just because you’d shared a meal like two normal people.

But you went anyway. And when you rounded that corner, heart in your throat, he was there. Same spot. Same faint smile when he saw you.

“You came,” He said.

You swallowed. “So did you.”

“Of course I did.”

And just like that, without needing to explain the ache in your chest or the thoughts still clawing at the back of your mind, he started walking beside you again. As if the doubt within you never stood a chance.

However, good things never last.

You hadn’t meant to cry.

You’d gotten good at holding things in. Good at keeping your voice even, your expression neutral, your heart locked up behind carefully stacked defenses. You knew how to keep walking. How to keep breathing through the ache.

But some days, some days it didn’t matter how strong you tried to be. And that night, everything hurt.

It wasn’t even about something new. Nothing fresh or sharp. It was the old stuff, the words that never really healed. The ones that resurfaced in this mornings phone call with your father, when he’d said it without hesitation. “You’re just too hard to love, you know that?”

It had gutted you then and it still did.

Because even if you didn’t show it, you’d started to believe it.

The way friends drifted away. The way family only called when they needed something or to criticize. The way people got tired of your quiet, your sadness, your needs. Even when you tried to shrink yourself, to not ask for anything… it was never enough.

You were always too much, and somehow not enough all at once.

So when you walked that night, when you saw Bucky waiting in his usual spot, you almost turned back.

But he saw you. And the moment he did, something in his expression shifted.

You didn’t say anything.

You just walked right up to him, stopped short, and stood there with your arms crossed tight over your chest, like if you let them drop, everything would spill out.

Bucky’s voice was soft. “You alright?”

You shook your head once, too quickly as your voice cracked when you whispered, “Why do you keep showing up?”

He blinked. “What?”

You looked at him then, eyes confused. “Why do you keep coming back? Why do you keep… being nice to me?”

He took a step closer, cautious. “Because I like being around you.”

“You shouldn’t.” The words burst out before you could stop them. “I’m not…– people don’t stay. They get tired of me. They always do.”

“Who said that to you?” He asked quietly, his voice low, steady.

You laughed bitterly. “Does it matter… Friends. Family. Pretty much everyone I ever let get too close.”

You looked away, blinking hard.

“They all said the same thing… that I’m just too hard to love.”

It was out now. Ugly, raw, and terrifying. You waited for him to flinch. To pull away. To prove them right. But he didn’t.

He stepped closer, slow and sure. He didn’t say anything at first. Instead, he reached out, one hand hovering at your shoulder until you gave the tiniest nod.

Then his palm pressed gently against your arm.

“They were wrong,” He said.

You swallowed hard. “You don’t know that.”

“I do,” He said firmly. “Because I know me. And I don’t waste time on people I don’t care about.”

Your throat tightened.

He wasn’t trying to fix it. He wasn’t telling you to be positive or that it would pass. He wasn’t saying it didn’t matter.

He was just there. With you.

“You’re not hard to love,” He spoke softer now. “You were just surrounded by people who didn’t know how.”

And that broke something loose.

The first tear slid down your cheek. Then another. You tried to speak, to apologize, but your voice disappeared behind a sob that ripped straight out of your chest.

You folded into yourself, ashamed, but Bucky caught you. Without hesitation, he pulled you into his arms. Not tight. Not smothering. Just enough.

Enough to say I’m here. Enough to say You’re not too much for me. Enough to say I’m not going anywhere.

And in his arms, safe for once, you let yourself cry.

Really cry.

For the first time in a long, long time.

When the tears had finally stopped, you felt worn out like a storm fading to drizzle. You’d stood in the dark with Bucky for longer than you realized, his arms wrapped gently around you. He never rushed you. Never asked you to talk more or explain.

And when you finally stepped back, breath unsteady but lighter somehow, he didn’t say a word about the crying. Just looked at you like you were whole.

“…I’m okay now,” You’d whispered, not sure if you believed it yet.

His head tilted slightly. “You want to walk?”

You nodded.

And you walked until you were both sitting on a cracked bench outside a 24-hour café near a closed bookstore. He’d offered to buy you something, no pressure, just a question, and you said yes without thinking.

It felt… nice. Like last time. Letting someone do something for you without guilt clinging to it.

You had a small paper cup between your hands of warm chai, still steaming. He had black coffee, of course. Of course he drank it black.

Neither of you spoke for a while, but the quiet wasn’t awkward. It was gentle. Companionable. Like your sadness didn’t scare him. He wasn’t expecting you to bounce back or smile to make him feel better.

He was just there.

You took a small sip, then glanced over at him. He was watching the empty street like he was half on patrol, half at peace.

“Thanks for the tea,” You murmured.

He looked at you then, eyes soft. “Thanks for trusting me.”

You looked down at your drink. “I didn’t mean to cry like that.”

“I know,” He said. “It’s okay.”

You hesitated, then asked softly, “But why didn’t you walk away?”

He didn’t answer right away. He just leaned back on the bench, hands wrapped around his cup like it grounded him.

“Because I know what it’s like,” He said finally. “To think you’re too broken or too much. To think you’ve ruined the moment just by being yourself.”

You glanced at him, surprised at the honesty.

He kept his gaze forward. “I’ve been there. I still go there. But… I also know how much it means when someone stays anyway.”

Your heart ached in a different way now. Not from pain. From being understood.

“Thank you,” You whispered.

“Anytime.”

You sat in silence again, drinking your tea slowly, letting the warmth from the cup seep into your fingers.

The city was so quiet this late. No shouting. Barely any cars. Just wind and dim streetlights.

Eventually, you looked over and gave him a small smile. “You think next time we could get donuts or something instead?”

Bucky’s mouth twitched, his version of a grin. “You saying I’m not a good coffee date?”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile widened. “You’re passable.”

He let out a soft huff of amusement. “Alright, donuts next time. But only if they have the jelly-filled ones.”

You nudged his arm lightly. “You got a deal.”

And just like that, something fragile began to stitch itself back together inside you.

It may not have been fixed or finished. But it was held together by his love and care.

And for now, that was more than enough.

[olgasaysso]

The apothecary diaries made me realize something very interesting about how women perceive power...

I can't be the only one who noticed that in stories written by women power is often compared to a prison or a cage meanwhile in the ones written by men it's mostly fun and freedom.

It is that women tend to see power as more of an responsibility and men think of it as the ability to do whatever they want?

The apothecary diaries made me think of it first. I discovered with surprise that I actually like the emperor, which I almost never do. Any guy that has relationship with more than one woman at once tends to disgust me, especially if he's in a position of power but for some reason not him.

Because the emperor is as much a prisoner as the 2000 women in the rear palace. Maybe even more because as long as he doesn't touch them, they're allowed to leave.

Like on one hand, he's the most powerful man in the empire. He calls the shots, right?

But on the other hand, he can't even properly protect Lishu from being sold to some pedofile by her father. The only way he could protect her was to make her his concubine and how f*cked up is that? She's like a daughter to him and the only way he could protect her was by marrying her? And then he couldn't even spend time with her anymore because that would be read wrong.

It's the fact that 3 of his children died because there was no proper medic to save them due to the fact that they don't allow non eunuchs to treat them and forbid women practicing medicine... when he doesn't even care about that. He hasn't blinked once at Maomao running around the inner palace and being a doctor.

At first when I was watching the story I thought of how horrible it was that he didn't even visit Lady Lihua after their son died. But then it made me think of how he's literally not allowed to get attached because of his position and how hard it is for him? The fact that he couldn't even provide enough support for Lady Ah-Duo so she doesn't lose her uterus? The fact that she switched their baby with his brother and he had to watch his son grow up "away" from him?

There's so much more to this, especially with Jinshis approach to power and I could go on an on but I think I made my point.

And when I started comparing the stories written by women to those by men... Women tend to write power as more of a burden than a gift.

After watching TAD I watched solo leveling.

And for those of you who don't know, it's basically a story about a guy who suddenly "discovers" that he's like a character in a game (not exactly but it's be too long to explain) and basically finds out that he has endless potential and over the course of the story he becomes the most powerful being in the entire universe.

And there's a moment where he's talking to his little sisters friend that gets very misread as something inappropriate by another character.

This other character points out, kindly, to Sung Jinwoo that the girl is a minor.

Sun Jinwoo doesn't understand so he just looks at him and asks "so?".

And so the guy immediately gets scared and never mentions it again despite the two of them being friends.

This moment is kind of played for laughs. Nothing actually happened, Sung Jinwoo is a good guy so he wouldn't.

But he could. Nobody could do anything to stop him.

And when I watched that I laughed too. But then I thought of how terrifying that is. To have someone be so above the law, this untouchable. Who can do anything he pleases because no one will ever stop him.

But that's never actually adressed in the show other than to show us how cool this is.

It this was written by Natsu Hyūga there'd probably be a million different situations to show us how fucked up this is and how it weighs on the main character.

In the apothecary diaries Jinshi doesn't even want to ask anything directly of Maomao because he doesn't want her to interpret it as an order.

[xclowniex]

Broke up with my girlfriend earlier tonight 👍

And it does suck, but not as bad as I thought it would be.

I didn't even plan on breaking up with her tonight. It just sorta happened.

For the past month and a half it's been almost like I've been begging for her attention. And I do understand she has had more on her plate recently, but it's not like it's been impossible to fit me into her schedule and still have time to herself. Half of it has honestly been poor time management on her part. And I was giving her benefit of the doubt, and was going to give it another week before bringing it up as an issue to talk about as I was giving her benefit of the doubt as assuming the busy period would end.

However at dinner she kinda dropped the news that at the end of her degree in 18 months she will be moving to the south island. No ifs no buts no maybes, she will be doing so. And I do understand why she wants to move, it's just that she did not factor me into her plans.

When she dropped that news my first question was, "where do i fit into your plans". And she admitted she didn't think about me. I asked like 10 different questions to get like a proper understanding. But essentially she didn't want us to like break up or anything, but she already made up her mind 100%.

Now I'm pretty open about moving cities and even islands. As long as I can get a good job I don't care. But she wanted to move to a small town without really any office roles... which is the only thing I can do due to my career path. And she didn't even think about if she wanted me to move down with her.

And when we first started dating, we both said we cannot do long distance and are wanting something longterm.

And the decision for me to break up with her was because she should have either factored me into her future plans OR communicated that what she was wanting out of the relationship had changed. Not "I don't want us to break up but also I am not going to account for you in my future plans please stay together with me".

I respect myself too much to essentially be this person she is only with for the sake of being with someone.

And I am proud of myself for not pushing my own feelings aside, and it was an amicable breakup, which I am glad about.

It's also made me realize what I am looking for in a relationship. And whilst I'm not like "I will only date jews", honestly at this time I would prefer to date a woman or non binary person who is Jewish.

[mikkomacko]

I need more moose content

Huffing and puffing, Moose trudges alongside Nico on the trail path, ears floppy and head heavy in the humid heat.

You told Nico that even getting up this early for a walk would be too hot for Moose and he’d insisted it would be fine.

“He’s a trained mob dog,” Nico argued, “he can handle a two mile walk in seventy degree weather.”

Seventy degrees on paper maybe but that paper would be damp and soggy with how thick the air is. The morning sun feels five times hotter, clinging to your skin and hair uncomfortably. Even Nico has slipped his headband over his head, pulling back his fluffy hair from his damp forehead and the shirt he’d been wearing when you left the house is draped over his shoulder.

He looks good like this. Skin slick and shiny with sweat, the sharp features of his side profile unhindered with his hair out of the way, and Moose’s leash looped around the taper of his waist. A proper dog dad and a sexy one at that.

“You guys are slow,” Alex complains, coming back down the other side of the path. On his roller blades, he’s a little taller than Nico, swooping a lazy circle around him and swiping at his messy hair before coming to the far side of you. Your boyfriend scowls, glaring over at Alex.

“Not my fault,” you reply, adjusting Nico’s headband band where he likes it before taking ahold of his hand. “We don’t have wheels. And Moose is overheating.”

You say the last part pointedly, side eyeing Nico who just scoffs and rolls his eyes. He loves Moose, you know that. But Nico’s love for anyone but you comes out aggressively. Usually in the form of wrestling the dog or yanking on his fur and tail, and sometimes it comes out in Nico being so proud of his specially trained pet that he thinks Moose can survive walks and runs in the heat with him.

“He’s fine,” Nico cuts in, defiantly walking a little faster. You skip to catch up to him, sharing a look with Alex who’s still lazily rolling by you two. In about two minutes he’ll get bored and zoom ahead, get maybe a block or two on you before circling back.

Nico comes to abrupt stop, yanked back by his waist and you pause with him. Eyebrows furrowed in confusion, he looks down at the taut leash around his hips, your gazes all turning to the path behind you.

Moose, panting heavily is sprawled out in the grass off to the side of the path. Nico tugs on the leash, jolting the dog but he doesn’t bother getting up. In fact, he doesn’t even act like he’s felt Nico’s urging.

“Moose,” Nico whistles, “come on bud, let’s go.”

His tail flicks dismissively.

“Aww Moose,” you whine, abandoning Nico to curl up in the grass next to the dog. He presses his nose into the bare skin of your thigh, presenting his heaving belly to you when you start to scratch at his sides. “He probably just needs water.”

Alex rolls over, shifting off his bag and digging out the travel dog bottle you have for Moose, and Nico comes to stand over you, wanting to be out of the way. You laugh when Alex awkwardly crouches down on his roller blades to present Moose with the bowl attached to the bottles spout. Moose perks his head up, rolling onto his belly and lapping at the water.

“Aw Nico,” you pout, “he’s so tired.”

Your boyfriend makes a noise of annoyance but you can see in the way he’s watching Moose gulp down water that he’s a little concerned. Lips pursed, eyebrows raised over this big puppy dog eyes of his.

“He’s fine,” Nico insists though. But a couple minutes later after Moose has had his water and rested, all he does is sit in the grass when you try to walk. No amount of Nico whistling for him, you calling his name, or Alex nudging at his butt gets him to move. Not even Nico’s German instructions get him to do more than tilt his head.

“Nico I think you broke our dog.”

He pouts, scratching at his beard in thought. “He’s not broken. Just tired, like you said.”

“We’re still like a mile from the house,” Alex points out, you and Nico sharing a worried look. A mile from the house, no wheels except the ones strapped to Alex’s feet, and a full grown St. Bernard that won’t move. “What if you gave him a command?”

Nico shakes his head. “No she can’t. His commands are for emergencies. It’s mean to use them like this.” He’s right. Moose only identifies your English commands with dire circumstances, ones that put him on edge and ready to attack if needed. To do that to him on a walk through the city when he’s already too hot and too tired is cruel. And when nothing is actually wrong, when he can’t identify whatever it was you wanted him to protect you from, it’ll just make him anxious. You’d be betraying his trust.

“Oh, makes sense,” Alex murmurs. “What do we do?”

Hands on his hips, Nico takes a deep breath and hangs his head for a moment. Then he’s slipping his damp shirt off his shoulder and draping it over yours, pressing a kiss to your warm temple as he goes. Crouching down next to Moose, Nico pets softly behind his ears.

“Alright Müsli,” he soothes, “let’s get ya home.”

Moose wags his tail happily as Nico wraps a strong arm around his chest, slipping the other under his butt. Taking another deep breath, Nico heaves the dog up with him, cradling him against his chest.

And well- it’s hot you’re not going to lie. The veins and thick muscles of his biceps and forearms flexed as he trudges next to you. Moose, eyes a little wide at being so high in the hair, blinks at you and you pet his snout.

“It’s ok Moose,” you coo, “Dad’s got you huh? He won’t drop you…right Nico?”

Nico huffs. “No I won’t drop him.” Satisfied with his answer, you slip your phone out of the pocket of your shorts, stepping back to snap a quick picture of them. Nico, pouting and eyebrows furrowed with the effort it’s taking to carry Moose. Alex behind him, smiling widely over his shoulder. And Moose, ears perked up happily and tongue hanging from his drooling mouth.

You fall back into step with Nico, beginning the trek home. Over his shoulder, Nico calls, “Come on Alex!” The kid goes zipping past you, languidly zig-zagging down the trail just ahead of you.

“You couldn’t do that,” Nico grunts to Moose, teasing. “We’d be a lot faster if you put those four paws to work.”

You don’t say it out loud, but it’s not lost on you that Nico wanted an early morning workout with Moose, and well now he’s got one. Just not exactly how he’d thought it’d be.

[athena-the-undestructible]

Time to finally explain my new OCs

Well to start, I have a duo of characters

The first is a sniper who acts stoic at a distance, doesn't interact much with others and barely thinks about the fact that she's killing other people, it's just a job to her and she will rarely question what she is doing.

Up close she gets really nervous since she's not got any people skills and doesn't want to give the wrong information to the wrong person, plus her fighting style isn't very good up close so she prefers to stay away.

The second is a Knife Wielder with both stabbing and throwing skills. She's got great people skills and can manipulate them slightly and she greatly enjoys the act of killing others.

However she's very oblivious to anything that isn't immediately around her and in general is unable to grasp the bigger picture and of course her knifes are allergic to anything long range.

These two are supposed to be foils to each other although I still gotta develop them a bit like giving them names and more reason to dislike each other.

There is also a story I'm trying to construct around these characters although that's very work in progress and I haven't even got a proper idea of what the latter half or end looks like.

The basic premise is that these two kill each other at the beginning of the story, however both of them wake up the next day as if they'd only suffered a slight injury and a job listing they've both taken without remembering.

So they'll have to work together and it's not going to make them reconcile in any way, these two will still hate each others but in some different angles maybe.

They will also work with two others during these jobs.

The first I'll mention is a woman who wields a revolver and dressed like an MiB agent. She's been doing these mysterious job listings for longer and believes in some overall grand scheme that connects all of these.

She's initially supposed to give off mysterious vibes like maybe she did used to be an agent and she knows more than she lets on although this is supposed to be torn away as the plot moves forwards.

She doesn't have any more information than the other two but unlike them who don't think much further than what's happening to them, she's trying to piece together the grand scheme that she believes she's part of .

Her intense desire to be part of something important and her idealism is also why she has the secret agent theme despite never being part of any secret services.

And then we have the other one, the transgender robot I mentioned in a previous post.

So her cover "story" is being an assassin so dedicated to her career that she invested in cybernetics to improve her skill and become more efficient.

This is a total lie and quite the opposite, she's really a combat android who's been using her earnings to gain the appearance of humanity (hense the whole transgender part since she definitely wasn't a girl before).

She's also the total opposite of agent in that she has zero stakes in these missions and her enthusiasm goes as far as her payment.

This includes her inability to die like humans do which will be relevant and means she can just fuck off at any time.

Anyway that's all of them, I still haven't come up with their names (Once I can't make puns, I start to struggle) so maybe people could suggest them but I hope you enjoy these character concepts and would like to see me develop them.

My brain is also currently falling apart so I may have got something wrong, anyway that's all for now.

[crimson-cathedral]

—Lucifer Comforts You On Your Period—

—Lucifer x f!reader (or afab. There is no gender specific language)

—word count: 1,329

— Tags: hurt/comfort, smut, gentle sex, clothed sex, clit rubbing? (Idk what the proper term is), very little blood mentioned.

—Summary: Lucifer comforts you on your period by bringing you chocolate among other things and offers to get you off hoping that will be a nice distraction.

Lucifer opened the door to your shared bedroom to find you curled up in one of his fuzzy duck-pattered blankets. "You hanging in there?" Lucifer asked, setting down the plethora of things he had brought you. He may have gone a little over board but it's better to be safe than sorry. 

"I feel like a live animal had crawled it's way into my body and is trying to exit via my stomach, Every bone in my body hurts, I'm sad one moment, laughing the next, I cried this morning over spilling my water, I'm horny cause why the fuck not, I want to throw myself out a window and I want to smite God for doing this to me. So yeah I'm 'hanging in there'." You bite sarcastically, rolling away from him. You know he just asked a perfectly normal question but it couldn't help but piss you off. 

"Okaayyyyy so not great…and let's not do the last two…I would know." Lucifer says awkwardly. "Anything I can do? I brought a bunch of stuff. Like uh, plushies, chocolate, more blankets, heating pads oh and lots of movies. Any of that sound nice?" Lucifer asks, his large eyes looking at you hopefully. 

"I'll take the chocolate…." You say, slightly sitting up to take it from him. You weren't normally a fan of the specific kind he gave you but it felt like heaven on your tongue. 

"Good?" He asks, happy that he was able to help. 

"Mmhm" You mumble through a mouthful.

"Ok great,. You said you were in pain sooo maybe some Advil?" 

"Doesn't help." You grumble.

"Ok...-Wait did you say you were horny?" Lucifer asked as if it was just now loading. 

"Oh did I?" You ask, a slight blush painting your cheeks. You hadn't payed much attention to your own complaints, simply throwing everything out there that you could think of. 

Lucifer averted his gaze, moving his hand to rub the back of his neck. "I mean-If you want I can uh help." 

You flush harder, burying your face in your hands. "Ew, it would be like, gross and messy." 

Lucifer slowly lays on the soft comforter next to you, using his delicate fingers to gently pull your hands away. "It's not gross,—well to me at least. And besides, if you're self conscious about it you don't even have to take your clothes off. I can just slip my fingers right under here." Lucifer says with a small smile, teasing his fingertips along the edge of your waistband. 

"Y-you don't have to…" You try to argue but it's halfhearted. Taking your mind off things if only for a bit sounds nice. 

"No, I don't, but I want to, I like making you feel good, especially when you're in pain." Lucifer leans in to gently kiss your lips, soft and chaste. It almost seems like there's no hunger or lust behind it at all, simply tender affection. Lucifer pulls back, crimson eyes looking into your own, filled with love. 

His hands run up your sides, dipping under the fabric of your sleep shirt, thumbing the undersides of your breasts. You hadn't worn a bra today because you just felt too sensitive, so the feeling of his bare skin of yours makes you sigh. 

He moves his hands up to gently cup them, simply holding them, no urgency to his touch. Its not groping or meant to be arousing—or at least you assume, simply holding, comforting. You find yourself relaxing, your eyes fluttering closed. 

"There you go, just relax I'll take care of you, promise." Lucifer whispered reassuringly. 

"You feel his fingers trail back down over your ribs and past your stomach to your waistband again. They pause, taking their time trailing along it lightly, sending shivers down your spine at the ticklish and intimate touch. 

They finally sink under, easily finding their way to your clit. Lucifer normally enjoyed teasing you but this time he seemed solely focused on pleasuring you. Lucifer smiled as he began to rub small soothing circles with his pointer and middle finger. 

Warmth blooms in your core as you buck your hips up into his touch for more. He obliges pressing his fingers firmer as his other gently cards though your hair. 

As he does, Lucifer leans over to whispers praises into your ear. You're doing so good. There you go. You're so beautiful like this. Tumble from his lips and small gasps as whines fall from yours. 

Your head tosses back, hair splaying out of place as his fingers speed up, urging you closer and closer to your peak. 

"Lucifer-" You quietly gasp, unable to get much else out.

Lucifer's eyes gently light up at his name on your lips. "There you are, let go for me my love." 

You feel the warmth that had been pooling in your gut finally spill over at the unsuspecting pet name. Lucifer looks down, attentive to your every movement. The way you clutch at your hair, the way your eyes screw shut, the way your back arches, the way your teeth clench tight instead of gasping like you would expect.

He works you though it, continuing to rub gentle circles into you clit until you began to squirm from overstimulation. He slipped his fingers out and you noticed that were slightly more red than usual. You cringe at the sight, preparing for his reaction to having remnants of your literal period blood on his fingers but it never came. He simply reached for the wet wipes he had brought. 

"See no mess." He said when he saw your face, cleaning his fingers off easily. "It's not that big of deal." 

"Y-yeah, I guess." You say looking away.

"It's really not, especially when you think about it. I know society want you to think it's taboo, gross, unattractive and to be hidden away but it's just misogyny. If guys had them it would be seen as cool and manly cause you're like, bleeding. But at the end of the day it's just blood, unless you have hemophobia it's not a big deal." Lucifer says attempting his best comforting expression. 

"Yeah I guess you're right." You say returning his smile.

"Ok good, 'cause I didn't have another awesome-accepting-boyfriend speech planned." Lucifer replies with an awkward laugh. 

"You planned that? Oh come here you goofball." You say pulling him close to you, wrapping you both tight in the blanket. 

"What, you think I could think of that on the spot? I'm not God or something." Lucifer's laugh turns genuine as he nuzzles into your neck, inhaling the smell of your shampoo and something else that was distinctly…you.

"Good cause I'm still going to smite that guy for doing this to me. All loving my ass. Not even the Satan would curse half of the population with pain that can be worse than a heart attack ever month for no fucking reason." 

"Ookkkayyy." Lucifer said awkwardly. "I get where you're coming from but let's not go starting wars with heaven willy-nilly." 

"Humph." You say with an over-dramatic pout.

"I know, I'm sorry you can't start a war against God." Lucifer says comfortingly but you can hear the amused smirk in his voice.

"Don't mock me." You huff, softly pushing him away. 

"I'm not, I just think it's cute when you're cranky." Lucifer replied, his head tilted adorably.

"I'm not cranky." You retort.

"Yes you are." He teases.

"Fuck you." You throw back. 

"Love you too." Lucifer says pulling you into a hug and attacking you with kisses. 

You giggle as he kisses your neck. "H-h-he-y that t-tickles!" 

After a few more pecks he finally relents. "Are you feeling any better?" 

"Yeah a bit, thank you. I just like cuddling here with you." You say gently.

"I'll gladly stay, you've got me as long as you'll take me." Lucifer says with a smile. 

"Well that means forever." 

"Then forever it is, my love."

[lets-date-everything]

Oh gosh hi!! Would I be able to humbly request (if you're willing/comfortable doing so) ANYTHING involving Freddy? 😭🙏 Maybe something with cuddles, kisses even??? I'll even take angst, there's next to nothing for him and I'm DESPERATE 😭😭😭 Thank you so much!!! I hope you have an amazing day!!!

(Also I follow your sideblog and I love your writing, I'm so excited to see what you write here!!!)

Yesss, Freddy my beloved! I adore him so much it's unreal. I hope you enjoy!

Freddy Yeti x female MC

Freddy learns there’s more than one way to start the day right

Waking up and putting on the Dateviators had become the best part of her day.

When she slipped them over her eyes, the colours deepened, light sharp as cut glass on chrome. The kitchen brightened at the corners, but none of it mattered, not with Freddy standing by the island, leaning over a mixing bowl, the soft blue of his hair tumbling around his face.

His smile could light a room, and it did, spreading wide when he saw her at the kitchen doorway.

“Morning, Cool Kid,” Freddy called, grinning. “You want breakfast? I’ve got croissants proving, or I can fry up something proper: eggy bread, mushrooms, the works. You need something in you before you start your day.”

She shook her head, a soft laugh caught behind her teeth. “No, thank you. Maybe later.”

Freddy’s brows shot up. “No breakfast? Nah, you’re not getting away with that. Breakfast is important. Skipping it’s basically a crime in this house, you know.”

He stepped towards her, wiping floury hands on a tea towel, that familiar warmth radiating off him in waves. “Come on, sit yourself down. I’ll—”

She reached for him before he could finish, tugging gently at the fluffy neckline of his coat. Freddy froze, mid-ramble, eyes going wide. She pressed up on tiptoe—he was so much taller like this—then kissed him, slow and certain. It was meant to be chaste, a gentle shush, but Freddy made a soft sound, surprise melting into something else entirely.

His hands stilled, but his mouth softened, returning the kiss before he even realised he was doing it. His lips were plush, tasting faintly of coffee and vanilla. The tea towel slipped from his fingers, fluttering to the floor.

“Mm,” Freddy murmured when she drew back, his cheeks tinged an electric blue, just beneath the skin. “That’s… one way to make me forget my argument.”

She smiled, breathing just a little faster. “You were getting a bit bossy.”

Freddy huffed, but there was no heat to it. “That’s because I care. I want you fed, happy—” He caught himself, and something flickered behind his eyes. Vulnerable. “—all right, I’ll shut up, but you do know I’m going to spend all morning thinking about that, now, right? Not fair, coming in here looking like that.”

She only laughed, stepping in close again. “Looking like what?”

“Absolutely beautiful.” Freddy’s voice was lower now, quiet, almost shy. “Even in your pajamas.”

She ran her fingers down his arm, feeling the soft press of muscle beneath, the warmth radiating through his coat. “Maybe you should worry less about me, and more about what you want.”

He blinked, a slow, lazy smile curling his mouth. “Careful. Say something like that and I’ll forget about baking altogether. I’ll be absolutely useless the rest of the morning. You want to be responsible for that?”

She shrugged, helplessly fond. “I’ll risk it.”

For a moment, nothing moved. Then Freddy’s hands slid to her waist, large and careful, as if she were something breakable. He dipped his head, brushing his nose along her jaw, warm breath ghosting her cheek. “All right,” he whispered, “but you’ll let me make you breakfast after, yeah?”

Her laughter was lost against his lips, his tusks bumping against her teeth, all the warmth of home pressed close between them.

[helloalycia]

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐍'𝐓 𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇 [𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄] — 𝐄𝐌𝐌𝐀 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐌

one / two / four / masterlist / wattpad

summary: after training with Emma some more, you realise you quite like spending time with her.

warning/s: mentions of death and violence.

author's note: i was supposed to share this two days ago but it’s been so busy lately, so apologies for the delay! only one more part left after this - enjoy :)

Small flames danced in the air around me, one by one appearing as and when Emma wanted them to.

My job was to keep an eye on them as they appeared, extinguishing them with a counter attack of water, depending on how big or small the flame was. It was supposed to develop my precision and ability to think on the spot, but it was difficult and I sometimes either overdid the water or missed the flame completely.

Emma was the perfect teacher though, encouraging and patient and never shouting when I got frustrated – which was often.

She conjured another ball of fire, this one a few metres in front of her, and the irritation of missing the flame before this got to me because I used a little too much water this time, directing it at the ball of fire and drenching her behind it instead.

My jaw dropped as she jumped, startled, and closed her eyes instinctively.

"Shit, Emma, I'm sorry!" I apologised immediately, moving forward to see if she was okay.

She wiped her eyes, spitting out a stream of water from her lips, and I winced at how much I'd used without realising. To my surprise, she began to laugh, her hazel eyes sparkling with amusement, and that was when I knew I hadn't completely messed up.

"It takes practice," she told me reassuringly.

I sighed, looking over her dripping dress and hair. "You say that about everything."

"Well, you're improving, aren't you?"

I quirked a brow doubtfully. "Am I?"

She smiled, squeezing the water from her hair into the grass. "Yes, silly."

I begged to differ, chewing my lip as I felt bad watching the amount of water drip off from her curls.

"Wait, I can help," I said to her, making her pause. "At least this one thing I can do without messing up."

She lifted her brows, curious, but stopped what she was doing. I used my abilities, focusing my energy on 'grabbing' the water from her clothes and hair, pulling the moisture out and into the air. It was easy enough, as easy as conjuring water and wetting something, and in seconds, her clothes and hair began to dry. She looked down, surprised as it worked.

"There." I moved a frizzy strand of now-dry hair from her eyes. "All done."

"Wow," she said with a slight smile, impressed. "Maybe quicker than me drying myself with my own pyrokinesis."

"Probably the only useful thing I can do," I responded. "Appropriate, given how training is going."

She stifled a laugh as she said, "Definitely useful, but not the only thing."

I breathed out tiredly, going to sit on the bench in the corner of the garden. She joined me, sitting beside me and straightening out her dress as she did. She always had these habits, ones nobody really cared for anymore, like remaining presentable at all times or not cursing or acting proper. It was very old-fashioned and I'd noticed it the more I trained with her, though I suppose it was a quality of the time period she lived in.

I was creating small droplets of water and flicking them at the grass as we sat in silence when she decided to break it.

"Can I ask you something?"

I hummed, glancing at her between messing around. "What?"

She straightened up, hesitant. "That day with Miss Peregrine, the day before you started to train with me. What happened?"

I paused, blinking when I realised she didn't know like I thought. It would have been easy to tell her to mind her own business, as I always did, but we were surprisingly getting along lately and I found myself not wanting to keep everything to myself right now. And if not for that, then just for someone to tell me I hadn't overreacted with Miss Peregrine.

"You don't have to tell me," Emma added, when I didn't respond straight away.

I shook my head, glancing at her. "No, it's fine, it's... She took me to the hill where the hollow comes out. Same time every day."

Emma nodded, eyes on me despite the fact that I couldn't hold her gaze.

"She wanted me to use my powers to kill it," I explained, and it felt so stupid, so embarrassing, as I said it aloud. Maybe because it was in front of Emma, who never seemed afraid of anything. "I barely got chance to realise until it was there and I just– I froze. I couldn't do anything except stare." I clenched my jaw at the memory, deflated. "I haven't seen one since my parents were killed by one. I just– I didn't expect it. She should've warned me. I wasn't ready. I thought–" I swallowed hard, shaking my head. "She should've warned me."

Emma rested a hand on my shoulder, squeezing it gently. "I'm sorry that happened. I'm sure she didn't mean to upset you. Explains why you switched training partners though."

"It's stupid–"

"No, it's not," she stopped me before I could even begin. "You weren't ready, end of story. And that's okay. Miss Peregrine is right most of the time, but even she can get it wrong sometimes." 

My eyes flickered between hers, reading the sincerity in them. Hearing her confirm what I'd thought helped a little. With how little control I had over my life recently, sometimes I thought the same of my emotions. I'd felt angry for so long, and this was a prime example. But knowing Emma believed I wasn't overreacting did something to ease my embarrassment.

"Would you try again?" she asked softly, dropping her hand.

I tilted my head. "What?"

She nodded like it was obvious. "Killing the hollow."

I looked down, growing uncomfortable at the thought of it. "Maybe, I don't know. I'm not ready."

She hummed in response, before adding, "I can help. If you want. I can go with you when you do it. Maybe it won't be as scary then."

Her earnestness comforted me more than I realised, and the thought of facing the hollow again didn't seem as far-fetched as it once did.

"Maybe," I replied, and when I looked up at her, she smiled tenderly.

—

Since training with Emma, it meant I was settling in a lot easier than I had been, which included spending the occasional evening with the others rather than locking myself in my room.

Tonight, we were all getting comfortable, ready to watch another one of Horace's strange yet prophetic dreams projected before us in the living room. His peculiarity was the ability to see the future through his dreams, but it wasn't as straightforward as that. His dreams could either be super specific or vague nonsense that he had to decipher. It was the latter that we all got a treat out of watching, like the 20th century equivalent of TV.

"Okay, sshh, it's starting," Hugh spoke over everyone's conversations, as Horace stepped in front of the room expectantly.

Chatter ceased as all eyes were on him. His arms were dramatically folded behind his back as he spoke.

"Tonight's viewing," he announced, "is brief, but rich in symbolism."

Emma groaned softly from beside me. "It's always rich in symbolism."

"Art," Horace responded with a hint of impatience, "is not appreciated in its time."

I cracked a small smile as the others giggled at his words and Emma playfully rolled her eyes. Horace took a seat on the couch opposite the projection screen Miss Peregrine had set up earlier and began to project his dreams onto it, using a strange telescope and his eye.

The dream flickered to life: shadowy figures marching backward, a goat in a top hat, then someone falling slowly into a giant teacup. Already, some of the others were stifling laughter whilst others were amazed by the absurdity of it. I was somewhere in the middle.

Horace cleared his throat proudly. "As you can see, themes of descent and social ritual–"

"–and goats in formalwear," I added nonchalantly.

Emma snickered from beside me, nudging at me to stay quiet.

"–themes of descent and social ritual," he repeated, as if I hadn't spoken, "are prominent in tonight's dreams."

"But the goats are formally dressed," Enoch pointed out. "Kind of like you, Horace."

We all chuckled at Enoch's comment, making Horace scoff quietly.

"Their attire has nothing to do with the dream," he defended. "Nor myself."

"I wouldn't dismiss the idea," Enoch muttered, eliciting some more giggles.

On the screen, the goat in the top hat jumped out of the tea cup and began galloping into what changed into a mid-western backdrop.

"So, does he get a cowboy hat now?" I asked, if only to pull at Horace's leg.

"His attire isn't relevant!" Horace burst, losing his patience.

Everyone began to laugh, including Emma, whose I could hear the clearest because she was right next to me. It was the first time I'd ever really listened to it, or acknowledged it rather, but it sounded quite... well, lovely.

The scene moved on to something different, and Horace cleared his throat calmly. "If the commentary is over..."

"Sorry," I apologised, but I wasn't, not when Emma was still grinning at my joke and her laughter still rang in my head like a lullaby.

—

It was a few months after the first attempt of killing the hollow when Miss Peregrine, Emma and I were stood atop the hill, waiting for it to return at midday.

If you'd told me months ago that I would come back, I would've shouted in your face. But here I was, oddly prepared to face the creature once more. And that was mainly down to Emma, who had nonstop encouraged me in training.

"Remember, control is everything," she reminded me, hands on my shoulders as she looked me in the eye. "Do whatever you want, but keep it locked in. Don't let go. No distractions, alright?"

I nodded, sucking up a deep breath. Admittedly, I was still tense even though I felt better prepared than last time. The nausea hadn't left since last night, but I swallowed it down and tried to remember Emma's advice.

She offered me a supportive smile. "You're gonna be okay, darling. Just take it easy. Miss Peregrine and I will be here if anything goes wrong."

"Thanks, Emma," I said sincerely, and I hoped she knew just how much I was thankful for. More than the advice, that was for sure.

She squeezed my shoulder, hands lingering for a moment longer and sending tingles down my spine, before she let go and moved to stand beside Miss Peregrine.

I looked at the spot where the hollow would show up any minute now, clenching and unclenching my hands in preparation. I knew exactly what I wanted to do, but my fear was freezing up again.

"Any second now, Miss Y/L/N," Miss Peregrine called out to me, glancing at her pocket watch. "Good luck."

I nodded, eyes flickering to Emma briefly, who smiled at me encouragingly. And just as it did last time, I heard a splash over the edge of the hill, knowing it was here.

I dug my feet into the grass as I waited for it to appear over the edge, watching the grass depress where its spindly fingers pulled its body up. My fingers twitched as I grabbed ahold of the water from the ocean, the action using more energy than my average training session. The hollow's footsteps approached the painted outline of its corpse – the same thing every time – and I raised both hands as I brought a tidal wave with me.

It shot into a stream, wrapping around the hollow's invisible body and giving me some clue as to how it looked without actually seeing it. The hollow squealed, loud and sharp and ear-piercing, but I kept my control on the water, attempting to tighten my grip and pull it back into the ocean to drown it.

I thought it was going well, until I suddenly felt something slimy and wet hit me in the face, making me lose my grip on the tide and fall back onto my butt. The hollow snarled and I quickly stood up, eyes wide as I looked around for it, only the sound and footsteps on the grass my clue to its whereabouts.

In a split second, the wet, slimy tentacle of sorts – no, it's tongues – wrapped around my neck and tightened its grip, lifting me into the air.

"Y/N!" I heard Emma shout, but I couldn't turn my head as the hollow was bringing me closer to its mouth.

I used my remaining energy to control the water once more, bringing it back up the hill from the beach, needing it to get this thing off me, but it was difficult and my nose was starting to bleed and I couldn't focus with its tongues cutting off my oxygen.

Thankfully, a ball of fire zipped past my face and into the hollow's, making it drop me to the grass. Another ball of fire knocked the hollow back and then Emma was by my side, kneeling beside me as I caught my breath. We both looked up, the flames catching fire on the hollow – the only thing we could see – as it stood up to leap at us. But just on time, Miss Peregrine shot her crossbow at its head, killing it.

"Hey," Emma breathed out with relief, hand on my back as her other cupped my face. "You're okay, it's okay."

I touched my throat, still able to feel the tongues writhing around. My blood was warm, the metallic taste dripping between my lips from my nose, and I stood up slowly.

"It's okay," Emma repeated, fussing over me, but I shrugged her off, overwhelmed. "You almost had it, Y/N, you just need a bit more practice."

I scoffed, annoyed at myself for messing it up so badly. Even with preparation and notice, I still couldn't get it right.

"Miss Bloom is right," Miss Peregrine commented, approaching us. "You did good. You almost had it."

"Almost isn't good enough," I muttered frustratedly.

Emma's expression softened as she attempted to reach out. "Y/N–"

"Forget it," I said with a frown, before turning on my heel and leaving.

—

Later that evening, I sat by the fireplace in the living room, knees pulled to my chest, staring at the flames mindlessly. I still couldn't believe I'd messed up with the hollow earlier. Even when I tried, I couldn't do it, and it was stirring up awful feelings in my chest.

As I sulked, unable to go to my room to go to sleep anyway, I heard footsteps behind me and didn't need to turn to know it was Emma. She'd been giving me worried looks all evening, but I couldn't bring it in myself to talk to her.

"Hey," she spoken softly, taking a seat beside me on the rug.

I leaned my chin on my knees, humming in response.

Her eyes were on my profile, sympathetic. "It's okay that you couldn't do it. It just means you try again."

I shook my head, frowning to myself. "You don't get it."

She rested a hand on my shoulder, leaning in. "Then tell me, Y/N, please."

Her touch was warm – it always was, a side effect of being pyrokinetic, I suppose.

"I thought that facing it would make me feel better," I said quietly, glaring into the fire. "That I'd somehow atone for– for getting my parents killed. I couldn't kill that one, I didn't even know what it was. But it came for me. And instead it–"

I stopped myself, breathing shaky.

"Y/N," Emma started, other hand on my knee, but I spoke over her.

"No, you don't get it," I repeated, looking to her with watery eyes. "I couldn't do it. Not then, not now. They're gone. And I can't– they'd be so disappointed in me."

"That is not true," she said, forcing my knee down so I'd look at her. "You don't need to atone for anything. What happened was awful, but it wasn't your fault."

I turned my head, looking away from her as I wiped my eyes shamefully. "Maybe this isn't where I belong."

"That's not true either." She reached out, turning my face back to her, before meeting my eyes with certainty. "You've come so far. I know it doesn't seem like it, but you have."

"Emma, we both know I don't fit in here," I disagreed, giving her a knowing look, before looking down. "I've become so... awful. I try so hard not to be, but it's like I've forgotten who I am. Losing them, it's... it's made me the worst person to be around."

"Grief does different things to people," she tried to comfort me, not dropping her hand from my shoulder.

"I treated you awfully," I reminded her, blinking the tears away as I looked to her. "You've only ever been kind to me, and I threw it back in your face."

"And I haven't taken it personally because I know that's not you," she retorted, eyes flickering over my expression with concern. "And that was then."

"That was, like, two months ago."

She cracked a small smile. "Still." When I didn't speak, she continued, "We all feel like we don't belong sometimes. The loop has its days. I know it's hard, but it's safe."

I shifted my jaw uncomfortably, wanting to believe her.

"Come here, darling," she spoke softly, before pulling me in for a hug.

I didn't fight it as she wrapped her arms around me, revelling in the comfort. She squeezed me tight, stroking my hair, and I didn't need to wonder why she had such patience for me. Her heart was huge and I was lucky to be in it.

Once we pulled apart, she kept ahold of my hands, watching me closely. Then her hand lifted to my cheek and she wiped a tear with her thumb, a small yet intimate gesture that made my brain short circuit momentarily. So much that I didn't even hear what she said.

"Pardon?" I blinked.

Her lips curved into a small, amused smile. "I said, did I ever tell you how I ended up in Miss Peregrine's care?"

Swallowing thickly, I shook my head, realising I'd never asked.

She nodded, tilting her head as she watched me. "I'm from Cornwall, not Wales. My abilities manifested around the age of ten years old. I'd set my bed on fire whilst sleeping, so my parents they..." Her expression twitched at the memory, but she continued, "they changed my bed to a metal frame so I wouldn't set it on fire. No pillows, duvet, nothing flammable. They thought I was lying, a pyromaniac, because I would never get burned myself."

I hung onto her every word, curious.

"One day, my hands were hurting so badly. I didn't know what was happening, but it got too much, so I put them in some ice that was holding some fish at the market. The ice melted from how hot my hands were and I ruined the fish, so they chased me all the way home and wanted me – or rather my parents – to pay. I was so scared, and the ice only made it worse, and then my hands caught fire." She looked down at her hands, still holding mine. "My mother was terrified. She ran away, claiming I was a demon from her womb. I never saw her again."

I frowned. "Emma..."

"It's okay," she assured me, flashing me a small smile. "It was so long ago."

Time didn't heal, not permanently, we both knew that. But she kept going for my sake anyway.

"My father thought I was the devil, locking me in my room with asbestos sheets so I couldn't escape. He'd feed me occasionally, scared I'd hurt him if I fed myself. He was right, at least then. Now, I know it wouldn't have done any good."

"He would've deserved it though," I commented, and she gave me a look that said she didn't disagree.

"I was there, like that, for some time. But my sister... my wonderfully sweet and caring sister, Julia, she knew I wasn't as much of a monster that they made me out to be. She untied me one night, telling me to leave before father found out."

Emma had a sister? I hadn't known, though I'd made no effort to know. Considering I hadn't heard her mention her whilst being here, I couldn't imagine she spoke to her anymore and that made me feel awful.

"I went to the circus," she said, in a voice that wasn't her own. "I was a fire-eater, an apt career path for a girl with only one skill. It was only for a month, then Miss Peregrine found me."

She stopped, and I waited patiently as it looked like she wanted to say more, but she didn't.

"Thank you for sharing that with me," I said after a moment, squeezing her hands gently. "And I'm sorry you had to go through that. I... I should've asked. Sooner."

She shook her head. "That's not why I told you. I just want you to know that we all go through it. That's my story, but Enoch has his, Olive has hers – we've all experienced it. That feeling of not knowing who you are or where you belong. That fear of the unknown. But you're not alone, Y/N. You have us. You have me."

And she said it with such a finality that there was no room to argue otherwise, and I didn't want to. I may have lost my parents, but at least I'd gained a new family.

"Thank you," I said quietly. "For everything."

"You don't need to thank me." She smiled, before letting go of my hands and turning to face the fire, moving closer to my side. A pause, and then, "If you need to kill that hollow, then do it. We can train more. Practice. Okay?"

I nodded, looking at the space between us, what little of it was there. "Okay."

"It gets easier," she added, glancing at me. "Living in a loop. Being this age. Accepting your fate rather than running from it. Because you're safe. And that in itself is worth its weight in gold."

I looked up, shadows dancing across the side of her face from the fireplace. She looked hauntingly beautiful, and I cursed inwardly for even allowing myself to think it. It wasn't appropriate, not when she was helping me.

"I suppose being forever seventeen wasn't what I saw for myself," I spoke halfheartedly.

"At least you made it that far," she joked, stifling a smile. "Sixteen isn't all it's cut out to be."

I exhaled, a ghost of a smile on my lips, before glancing over. "But you're not sixteen, are you?"

"Hey, don't you know it's rude to ask a lady her age?" She nudged me playfully, and I let out a quiet laugh.

"You know what I mean," I corrected myself. "You've been here a long time, in this loop, haven't you?"

She pressed her lips together, shrugging. "I suppose I have. Eighty four years to be exact, since the day it was created."

My eyebrows raised, though I suppose I always knew it. It was just strange hearing it out loud. Especially because my brain felt disconnected, seeing a sixteen year old girl before me who was actually in her eighties. Oh, god. Did that make me weird for checking her out?

"You must remember, I've been living the same day over and over since I was sixteen years old," she added knowingly, when she saw my expression. "I feel like a kid still. It's all I know."

Sixteen, every single day for eighty-four years. For me, turning seventeen couldn't have come sooner. Maybe it made sense after all.

"If it's any consolation, I don't think of you as some old lady," I said, lightening the mood. "You're mature for a sixteen year old. Not so different from the smart girls in my year at school."

She chuckled, shooting me a sideways glance. "The smart girls, huh? And what did that make you?"

I flushed slightly, trying to play it cool. "I got by. Not straight As or anything, but enough to get into university."

She grinned.

"Forget I said anything," I mumbled, and she laughed wholeheartedly, sending somersaults in my stomach.

"Forgotten," she said teasingly, nudging my shoulder with hers.

—

Seagulls squawked above as they flew by, the sun shining down on us as we sat on our picnic blanket. Apparently the other children would do this every now and then, bringing everyone together for a picnic by the beach. Miss Peregrine usually joined too, but she had other business with another ymbryne to attend to in her study, so she was trusting Emma and Enoch with watching out for everyone, and (by default age) me.

I reached for a homemade scone, inspecting it closely.

"Don't worry, I triple-checked, it's raisin-free," Emma said with an amused smile, glancing at me.

"You sure this isn't a ruse to get me to eat the worst fruit on earth?" I asked suspiciously, sniffing the scone.

She scoffed playfully. "Rude. And here I am, going out of my way to make sure you can eat."

I hummed, not convinced, before taking a bite and chewing thoughtfully. When I swallowed, raisin-free, I gave her a grateful look. "And you'd be right. Thank you."

She nodded satisfactorily. "I'll settle for a medal."

"You'll get a thumbs up." And I did just that, making her laugh.

As I took another bite, her shoulders brushed mine as she grabbed my cup of lemonade, stealing a sip.

I blinked at her over my scone. "I bought that."

"And I bought the scone, deal with it."

I raised my brows, slightly impressed by her sassiness, trying not to smile. She winked playfully as she took another sip, making my heart grow warm in my chest. Before I could respond, another bird squawked above us.

"We're being watched," Millard commented, hat tilted back, the only indication that his invisible head was looking up at the sky. "That same seagull has circled us five times now."

"Maybe it's pirates in disguise," Olive teased.

"Or maybe it's Miss Peregrine, warning you to stop kicking sand on my good trousers," Horace said, shooting Millard a pointed look.

We all laughed as they seemed to be having a stare off, though I didn't know how Horace did it when you couldn't even see Millard's face.

Enoch approached us, taking a seat on his towel in his swimsuit as he'd just come out of the ocean. As he moved his hair from his eyes, he nodded towards me.

"Hey, Water-Girl," he called. "I'm curious. Can you breathe underwater?"

I rolled my eyes at the nickname he hadn't dropped since I got here. "I can't say I've tried, Enoch. But I'm pretty sure the answer is no."

He smirked, amused. "Really? You make water appear out of nowhere and throw it around like confetti. It doesn't seem so far-fetched."

"Enoch," Emma said in a warning tone, shooting him a look.

"I'm pretty sure that would require you to control air," Olive pointed out. "Which is kind of my thing."

"But if it worked, you'd be a really cool mermaid," Fiona added.

I tried not to laugh as I looked between their eager faces. "Guys, come on. I'm not gonna drown myself to test a theory if that's what you're thinking."

"Nobody said you had to drown yourself," Horace corrected, shrugging. "Just a quick dip in the water."

"Don't encourage them, Horace," Emma disagreed, glancing at the well-dressed boy, before fixing Enoch with a glare. "She's not your guinea pig."

"It's just a harmless test," Enoch said innocently.

"Harmless until it's not," Emma scolded him.

And I knew she was looking out for me, but I was curious too now. It would be pretty cool if I could breathe underwater, and I was suddenly eager to try it. I glanced out at the ocean, seeing the tide was low. It couldn't be too dangerous, right? After all, I could just swim out of it.

"I don't think Y/N agrees," Bronwyn said with a giggle as she noticed my expression.

I looked back to the group, particularly Emma who was already tilting her head challengingly. The look in her eyes told me all I needed to know – it was a stupid idea.

"I mean, worst case scenario, I swallow some seawater," I said carefully, making her groan quietly.

"Or a jellyfish up your nose," Millard added.

"I don't think jellyfish are in this part of the ocean actually," Hugh corrected him.

"Only one way to find out," Millard countered, "right Y/N?"

I sighed, knowing this conversation would never end if I didn't give it a go. Plus, I was curious myself. "Fine, but if I die, I'm haunting you all."

"Deal," Enoch agreed.

I stood up, dusting my trousers off, and Fiona began to clap excitedly, eager to see what would happen.

"Y/N, you don't have to do this," Emma said with a hint of concern, hand grabbing mine, tugging it so I'd look at her.

"It won't take long," I assured her, squeezing her fingers before letting go. "Worst case scenario, I end up soggy and embarrassed."

She blinked. "You'll definitely end up soggy and embarrassed."

"But it will be excellent entertainment," Enoch remarked, making Emma shoot him a glare once more.

I smiled as I began to walk towards the sea, though not without hearing Millard's voice behind me.

"This seems like a really bad science experiment."

I couldn't help but mentally agree, but the peer pressure was strong, so I ventured into the sea until I was waist deep. I gritted my teeth, body adjusting to the cold water, and took a deep breath. The sun glinted off the ripples around me and I hovered my hand above it, trying to feel that familiar tug in my gut.

The water shifted slightly when I found my hold, and I spread it apart slightly before sinking in. It was freezing, but I tried to ignore it as I held my breath momentarily, unsure if the small pocket around my nose and mouth was working. It seemed like it was as I floated under the water, finally taking a breath.

Thirty seconds – that was enough time for me to be amazed and consider just how handy this could be, before my concentration wavered and the pockets burst, being flooded by water.

I choked, feeling the saltwater sting my nostrils and throat, deep in my lungs, and used my abilities to shoot me out of the water for air. Admittedly, it was embarrassing how I clambered out onto the sand, coughing up water and what felt like all of my insides.

Emma was already making her way down the dunes, expression sharp. "Real scientific, that," she snapped at Enoch, glaring.

"She volunteered!" he defended.

"Because you pressured her into it," she shot back, then kneeled beside me, rubbing my back. "Are you okay?"

"I think I swallowed half the sea," I mumbled, sitting on my knees.

"Definitely not a mermaid then," Millard called over the sound of the waves.

Emma ignored them, eyes searching mine worriedly. "Don't listen to them next time, you plonker," she scolded, though she didn't sound angry.

"Noted," I spluttered out.

She shook her head, moving a strand of wet hair from my eyes, and suddenly I didn't care about how cold or wet or thirsty I was. "You're freezing, come on."

"I can dry myself," I reminded her, already doing just that.

She scoffed quietly as we sat down by the picnic blanket. "But that doesn't warm you up, does it?"

I chewed my lip as I looked down, seeing I was now completely dry, but still in fact cold. "Maybe not."

She wrapped her arms around me from the side, the heat from them enough to soothe the goosebumps on my skin, and I couldn't help but lean in slightly, chasing the warmth.

"At least now you know," Enoch commented, before shrinking in on himself when Emma fixed him with a fiery glare.

"He's right, kind of," I started, but it was my turn to be on the receiving end of her glare.

"You could've gotten hurt," she reminded me. "And then what? We would've had to tell Miss Peregrine you almost got yourself killed trying to play mermaids."

I stifled the urge to smile. "Okay, so not a very good science experiment."

She tilted her head towards me intimidatingly, but a smile twitched on her lips.

"Won't happen again," I promised her.

"Yeah, until we dare her to do something equally as funny and challenging," Horace added with a snicker.

I didn't look away from Emma's gaze as I flicked my hand, shooting a spurt of water at his face. He complained as the others laughed, but I assured Emma.

"It won't," I confirmed.

"Good," she murmured, eyes flickering over my expression, her own softening.

My heart twisted in my chest at the way she was staring – all soft and protective and fond – so much that I had to look away, cheeks warm, and not because of her hands.

We stayed sat like that for a while longer, observing the others as they got on each other's nerves as usual. When I was finally warm, Emma let go, but I was still acutely aware of her knee and shoulder pressed to mine.

When the others were playing in the water, Emma and I were left alone. I was snacking on a jam sandwich as she was leaning back on her hands, watching over the others. And then she spoke up.

"You didn't need to prove anything."

I glanced at her, and she was already looking my way. "I know. But... I thought it would be cool if it worked."

She exhaled, rolling her eyes lightheartedly. "How did that go for you?"

I pursed my lips, looking back to my sandwich. "I was definitely cold afterwards."

She huffed, an almost laugh.

"Good thing I know someone with some pretty neat fire abilities," I added with a sheepish smile, and she shoved my arm slightly in response.

A pause, her eyes still studying me like I was something special. "I didn't like watching you go under. Not even for a second."

Sensing the seriousness in her voice, I looked to her apologetically. "I wasn't in any real danger."

Her eyes, looking green in the sun, flared with something unreadable. "Doesn't mean I liked it."

I held her stare, trying to figure out what she meant, but she gave nothing away. At least, nothing she didn't want to.

"I meant it when I said I wouldn't do it again," I reassured her softly.

She hummed, not entirely convinced, before looking ahead again. I did the same, feeling funny.

"–not for you to stand in, you imbecile, it's a sand castle!" Horace was shouting at Millard, close to the water.

"It was an accident!" Millard responded, before his hat flew from his head, hitting Horace in the face.

I cracked a smile as I watched them bug each other.

"Everyone really likes having you here, you know," Emma commented, noticing I was watching.

"I like being here, even if I do sometimes feel like a spare part," I admitted.

"You're not a spare part," she said, kicking my knee with her foot. "You belong here. With all of us."

I smiled softly, glancing sideways at her. "It's weird. I fought so hard to leave. But now I couldn't imagine being anywhere else."

"Aww, did we finally grow on you?" she teased, eyes twinkling.

"Yeah, like mould," I retorted with a knowing look. "Or maybe a bad fungus."

She shoved me again, this time with force, knocking me sideways in the sand. I laughed as I pushed myself back into a sitting position.

"You don't deserve my kindness," she mumbled to herself, a smile on her lips.

"But I appreciate it." I grinned.

She tensed her jaw, amusement dancing in her eyes as they met mine for a second longer than they should have.

I was starting to get used to this.

[freyafrida]

rilla of ingleside, chapter three

this turned out to be a long one bc i can't shut up about these kids lmao

This is probably the chapter I've reread the most! After hearing about the Blythe-Meredith kids from the gossipy ladies in chapter one, and meeting Rilla, Walter, and Miss Oliver in chapter two, the war generation all finally shows up in this chapter, and we get a sense of them from the way they talk and interact on the way to the lighthouse dance. Since it's the only pre-war chapter featuring all the kids, I find myself rereading it a lot for fanfic personality/relationship references, haha.

“The latter had come over from Lowbridge the previous evening and had been prevailed upon to remain for the dance at the Four Winds lighthouse the next night.”

Sometimes I forget that Gertrude is meant to be living in Lowbridge for parts of the book because she's at Ingleside all the time anyway lmao.

“It’s my first really-truly grown-up party, Miss Oliver, and I’ve just lain awake at nights for a week thinking it over. ”

Something about this sentence reads so much like young Anne to me (maybe the phrasing of "really-truly"); despite Anne's concern over Rilla's lack of ambition, Rilla is her mother's daughter in that sense of dreaminess and earnest excitement over things she loves.

Inch restingly, it seems like Rilla turns fifteen between this chapter and the last (last chapter was June, she's turning fifteen next month, it's now August, per the events of the chapter and Walter's description of "How beautiful the old Glen was, in its August ripeness"). I have thoughts about this bc I was wrestling with her birthday in a fic and realized -- the book doesn't recognize her birthday at all, not in the four years it spans. You'd think Rilla would've had a fifteenth birthday party before the war, at least, but it doesn't appear so. I don't think Anne has a proper birthday party ever, either, although she's mentioned to attend one or two over the course of the series.

“Of course Carl and Jerry can’t dance because they’re the minister’s sons, or else I could depend on them to save me from utter disgrace.”

Carl swooping in to save Rilla from utter disgrace!!! LMM why can't you let me have these things 😭 (Also, I realize they must see each other often, given that they're from two close families in a small town, but I have to admit I find it hard to believe that Jerry even knows Rilla exists.)

Disappointingly for the Rilla/Carl agenda, the bit abut Jerry and Carl not being able to dance was not in the original draft, per Readying Rilla -- instead, it says "but they're just like my brothers and I'll feel they're only doing it out of charity." LMM sniping me from beyond the grave 😩 Also curious if LMM like...forgot that minister's children shouldn't dance, or if it was more of an expectation that not everyone followed, and she made the decision to use it as a reason. (The bit about it feeling like charity is applied to Gertrude feeling that way about Jem and Walter dancing with her instead -- also, it's initially written that Jem and Jerry will take her out, but Jerry is crossed out and replaced with Walter, presumably due to the above edit.)

“I tried to draw back—and I saw that the edge of my dress was wet with blood—and I woke—shivering. I don’t like the dream. There was some sinister significance in it. That kind of vivid dream always ‘comes true’ with me.”

@batrachised pointed out that Gertrude's (I'm going to start calling her Gertrude instead of Miss Oliver because otherwise I'm going to keep going back and forth weirdly) dreams were actually based on LMM's, which, fair enough! That very much tracks with how seriously (almost) everyone takes Gertrude's visions. Idk -- I'm struggling to articulate why it comes off as almost laughably melodramatic to me -- because the war and death do come to Ingleside and touch our characters, and the shattering of their idyllic world is devastating to them (as it was to LMM); it's not as though her dream is wrong, necessarily. Maybe it's just the benefit of hindsight -- like Gertrude's going on about waves of blood on their shores and I'm just in the future like, "maybe you should save some of the dramatics because it's going to get so much worse." (Buuut I am also melodramatic and superstitious so maybe I just do not like looking in this mirror 😔)

“I think the party promises to be pleasant for young fry. I expect to be bored. None of those boys will bother dancing with an old maid like me. Jem and Walter will take me out once out of charity. There will be nobody for me even to talk to. So you can’t expect me to look forward to it with your touching young rapture.”

lmao jesus christ Gertrude. It's especially funny that she says this while also saying that she wants Rilla to have the "splendid, happy" girlhood that she didn't. Let her live then!!! (Also funny that Cousin Sophia is being portrayed as doom and gloom when she says stuff like this, while Gertrude is ~alluringly moody~)

And of course, the war is starting to become a concern for everyone except Rilla -- Dr. Blythe, Jem, and Walter are mentioned to be poring over the paper (none of the girls, even with their interests in 'ologies and 'isms, seem to care -- which sadly tracks, see Anne basically refusing to have a political opinion in House of Dreams. Gertrude, in fairness, is following the war news and mentions it to Rilla). It's interesting that part of the honor in fighting, for Jem, is entwined with defending the British Empire, considering it a family that they're a part of. Iiii...haven't developed any deep thoughts on this, lmao, I've always sort of taken it at face value that Jem -- and Ken, later -- feel this way as Anglo Dudes From 1914, particularly as there is a streak of...insularity, perhaps, in the books re: Anglo Canada. (But it is equally interesting that later on, characters express that they're fighting for Canada instead, not Britain.)

Walter's reaction to the war is telling -- he not only hates the idea (also, lol/sigh that they're just too civilized in the modern age of the twentieth century to go to war) but is kind of in denial about it, refusing to think of it and trying to distract himself with beautiful things.

“Mary Vance is a habit of ours—we can’t do without her even when we are furious with her,” Di Blythe had once said.”

I suppose it says a lot about Mary's character and general self-confidence/lack of self-awareness that she hangs out with people who talk about her like this, because I would not, lol.

“Carl Meredith was walking with Miranda Pryor, more to torment Joe Milgrave than for any other reason.”

LMAO what did Joe Milgrave ever do to Carl? I can't quite make out what this says about Carl -- it doesn't really jive with any of his behavior in Rainbow Valley; he doesn't particularly enjoy getting a rise out of people (e.g. in the chapter where he's not whipped, he feels bad over throwing the eel in the buggy; in the rest of the book, he's almost like, blissfully unaware that his various critters freak other people out). I suppose you could read him as being a bit competitive, or simply that he still enjoys mildly teasing people (which makes his friendship with Rilla pretty funny, given that being teased harrows her soul). Of course, worth mentioning that there's also not much evidence that Rilla and Carl are still close at this point :(

“Shirley Blythe was with Una Meredith and both were rather silent because such was their nature. Shirley was a lad of sixteen, sedate, sensible, thoughtful, full of a quiet humour. He was Susan’s “little brown boy” yet, with his brown hair, brown eyes and clear brown skin. He liked to walk with Una Meredith because she never tried to make him talk or badgered him with chatter. ”

Shirley being the personification of that "best friend I ever had, we still never talk sometimes" Parks and Rec quote, lol. The summation of him is so good, though -- despite what a nonentity he is compared to the other Blythe kids, you get such a good measure of him just from "sedate, sensible, thoughtful, full of a quiet humour." ❤️ I always go back and forth on the possibility of shipping him with Una -- it's lovely that Shirley appreciates her for who she is, that he likes that she's quiet and unassuming. On the other hand, like...what, do they never talk? Lmao. (Una also strikes me as having a bit of...repressed emotion, see her bottling things up and telling them to her mother's old wedding dress as a child, idk that Shirley would be able to draw that out of her...? But he is thoughtful and wholesome, so, maybe!)

“Una was as sweet and shy as she had been in the Rainbow Valley days, and her large, dark-blue eyes were as dreamy and wistful. She had a secret, carefully-hidden fancy for Walter Blythe which nobody but Rilla ever suspected. ”

MY GIRL \O/ I've seen it said that it seems unlikely that no one but Rilla suspects Una's feelings for Walter, but I actually quite like it -- it hints at Rilla actually being empathetic and perceptive under her frivolity, which she'll grow into over the war.

“She liked Una better than Faith, whose beauty and aplomb rather overshadowed other girls—and Rilla did not enjoy being overshadowed.”

Lol, it is very on-brand for early Rilla to feel she's in competition with Faith -- and I'm sure Faith doesn't think about Rilla at all, being 4-5 years older than her. (That said, I sympathize with Rilla not being a Faith enjoyer -- even though she's set up as getting into Anne-like scrapes in RV, the books lean a little too hard on how charming and intelligent and beautiful she is; she loses the flawed, earnestly trying vibe that made Anne endearing imo.) (Also, I love Rilla and Una, but it cracks me up that Rilla basically just likes Una better because she doesn't see her as a threat.)

“ bell was ringing in the little church over-harbour and the lingering dream-notes died around the dim, amethystine points. The gulf beyond was still silvery blue in the afterlight. Oh, it was all glorious—the clear air with its salt tang, the balsam of the firs, the laughter of her friends.”

I haven't been mentioning the nature descriptions because I don't really have anything to say about them other than they're lovely! Such a good sense of those moments when you're just happy, everything around you feels beautiful and you don't mind your problems in that moment -- and of course, the moment here is poised to be shattered very shortly.

“And how humanity responds to the ideal of self-sacrifice!”

Oooooh the foreshadowing! Also a very good summation of the theme of this book, in general -- there are other moments later that I think illustrate it more clearly so I won't go on too much about it now, but -- yeah, there's such a sense in this book of trying to understand and justify the pain of the war as a worthwhile sacrifice.

“We know the real charm of night here as town dwellers never do.”

Hey, leave us town dwellers out of it >:( (I do have a city girl story of visiting family out in the country when I was twelve, and being shocked by how dark it actually got at night, lmao.)

“Rilla flushed. It did not matter to her if Kenneth Ford walked home with Ethel Reese a dozen times—it did not! Nothing that he did mattered to her. He was ages older than she was. He chummed with Nan and Di and Faith, and looked upon her, Rilla, as a child whom he never noticed except to tease.”

First mention of Ken! The funniest bit about this is that his name was originally "Selwyn", and the first like 2/3rds of Readying Rilla have every single mention of him written as "Selwyn Ken". Anyway -- there's kiiiind of a set up for Rilla and Ken here; he teases her and she hates it while secretly liking/wanting more of his attention. There's a short story in TBAQ that adds on to this (honestly, it reads a bit like it's still trying to explain Rilla/Ken twenty years later lmao) -- it mentions that Ken and Rilla fought a lot as children, implying that he liked getting a rise out of her, sort of in a "pulling on her pigtails" kind of way. (Also, again, Nan and Di are set apart from Rilla here 👀)

some stuff from the glossary (minor frustration, the glossary isn't footnoted and is in alphabetical order, so you just kinda have to flip through it and try to remember what each entry is referencing):

More Readying Rilla bits:

After Rilla mentions that Jem and Faith will sit out on the rocks all evening, the next sentence starts with "They're", which is then crossed out and Rilla just starts talking about sailing to the lighthouse. While I'm sure it wasn't a big deal, it reads like someone being cut off right before saying something juicy lmao, tell meeee the Jem/Faith gossip

The line about Rilla being the only one unaware of the worry over the war originally said "only Rilla and Susan", lmao.

Miranda Pryor's name was originally Jennie.

Shirley's originally described as being "full of humor and quiet fun" (instead of "full of a quiet humor"), which does read as something a bit different to me -- the final version makes him sound like more like a quietly amused observer than someone that actually gets into hijinks.

Re: Rilla's silver slippers, the book says that Mrs. Ford (Leslie) sent them to her. The original draft says "Jean gave", which like...who tf is Jean?

[cricky-butspicy]

Since I'm pretty into fashion and Sol seems to also be interested... silly shopping spree headcanons with Sol and Reader? (And Atlas being the designated bag carrier)

Soleil is more into Men’s fashion more than anything and costume making, but not much regular fashion seeing as all of his clothing needs to be custom made anyway, and he can’t shop in stores, and he has that specific style of clothing that he likes to wear and doesn’t like to change up often! BUT That doesn’t mean he isn’t OBSESSED with going shopping with you (as long as it’s not too busy and there aren’t many people!!)

Soleil every time you go shopping together tries to get you to buy a mini skirt as “a gift” for him and Attie coming. Even if you bought one last time. He says he’ll pay 🥺🥺 Just one mini skirt for their “troubles” (there have been no troubles. They love spending time with you.) (They just want to see you in a mini skirt with little underneath. Please fulfill their dreams.)

Soleil uses his thumbs to measure things sometimes because he knows how long they are. He’ll measure you then the clothing before having you try it on. He usually gets the size right. It’s like a little game for him.

Soleil always wears a white shirt on days you go on shopping spree with him so he can compare your skin to the white of it to get your undertones and a true sort of “comparison” so he knows the light better and how it will change the clothes you are looking at.

Soleil is a bit picky when going shopping with you. He only wants you to buy things he thinks feel good. In the back of his mind, he thinks that he’s going to be feeling it on you, too!! He should get a say! (Though that thought always makes his face heat up.)

Soleil worries about shoes. With his bad back and his special, custom-fitted dress loafers with prescription insoles that he wears daily with his regular outfit on, he worries what you wear will end up causing you trouble. He always suggests things with good support and chunky heels if you want heels. The shoes always have to have enough room for a good shoe insole insert too or it’s a no from him. (He’ll splurge his money on clothes for you, but only on things he likes or approves of (aka things he thinks won’t hurt you or put you in predicaments. He’ll pay for clothes he minorly won’t like because of style differences or textures, but not something that can hurt you or looks like it isn’t made nicely.) Your shoes you are paying for on your own dime 😔)

Soleil will try to push his fashion choices on you lightly in ways like “Oh, Sunshine! I think you’d look just darling in this if you would wear it! Surely it wouldn’t hurt to just, try it on? Maybe take a look at yourself in it in the dressing room? You could even ask Attie and my opinions on it!”

Soleil always wants to take you somewhere to eat afterwards. Shopping uses energy and surely you want something good to eat and drink!! Attie’s treat!! (Soleil did pay for nearly all the clothes, so that’s Atlas’s part.) (Atlas rolls his eyes each time but does so long as you go somewhere with savory foods for him.)

Soleil never really buys anything when you go on shopping sprees together. More often than not, Atlas buys one or two things and that’s it. (Atlas sometimes buys you things secretly.) (It’s usually something he or Soleil thinks is sexy.)

It’s funny you put Atlas as bag carrier, because yes he absolutely would, he would carry the world for you and Soleil, but he’s also a theatre techie and knows a lot of knowledge from backstage work and research. Which means he knows costuming well enough (along with the people who always fitted and made Sol’s clothing for him while Attie calmed Sol and talked with them about it), and he’s not afraid to voice his opinion on how that is not in your color family and that “Soleil looks good in burnt orange, and don’t put him in skinny jeans, they don’t do his ass proper justice like flared jeans do.”

Atlas is a bit of a diva. Just because he doesn’t care what he wears doesn’t mean he doesn’t care what you and Soleil wear. He does want you two looking your best after all. He’ll put in some input on his opinions whether you want it or not. You did bring him along, you know.

[nanenna]

And now I'm thinking about the actual plot I've been sorta playing with a little. I'll be honest, the reason I'm putting this all out is because I don't think I'm going to actually write it, but I wanna share the fun vibes. Anyway!

So getting some more BG lore out of the way: in the anime (the first season, at least, which is what I watched as a kid because it was new back then) Pokémon explicitly states that each region actually has more than 8 gyms, 8 is just the number of badges you need to fight the pokemon league of that region. So for this fakémon region (I'm calling it Justria after the Price of Peace) we're going to see 8 cities/gyms:

Gotham

Metropolis

Coast City

Middleton

Washington DC

Atlantis (an island just off the coast)

Central City

Fawcett

Amity Park

I'm debating on Amity Park though, I kinda want it to be like Lavender Town but I wouldn't know who to make the actual gym leader. Not Vlad, he's too busy running Dalv Co. and maybe still being the Mayor. Instead of being obsessed with Maddie... okay maybe he's still obsessed with Maddie but! Instead of being obsessed with making Danny his son he's now obsessed with getting his grubby paws on the fucking legendary the son of that bumbling oaf managed to catch. But back on topic: I might have Amity not have a gym after all, which means Danny 'n' friends need to go to the nearest city with a gym and/or pokemon center to register for their grand adventure.

That's right! It's a grand adventure, baybee! I was thinking my favorite thing currently for main DCxDP is Danny and Jason meeting while Jason was dead and then meeting again years later, so I'm going with something like: Jason and Danny meet while on their "congrats, you're 12! Now go wander around without proper adult supervision and get into lots of cock fights with your new pet seizure monster."

It's not uncommon for kids to go in groups, so I'm thinking Danny, Sam, and Tucker all go together. At some point they meet Jason at a pokecenter and make friends so they travel together for a while. Probably help fight off this region's version of Team Rocket, maybe split into 2 teams for part of it so Danny and Jason have to work together for a bit. Then after all that they come to a fork in the road.

Danny 'n' friends are going to head to Gotham to get the Aerial badge. Jason says he can't, that his family runs that gym so he's not allowed to challenge that one. Sadly they part ways, but they promise to keep in touch and to go challenge the League together.

Unfortunately things don't go so well for Jason. He and his Robin get into a bit of a tight spot, have a near death experience, and Robin evolves into Red Hood. It takes a long time to finally make it home and when they do everyone knows things went bad because Robins don't evolve into Red Hoods unless something went very wrong (or their trainer was an asshole).

Meanwhile Danny 'n' friends keep an ear out for Jason but they lose touch and stop seeing any mention of him (gyms keep public records of who's challenged them, and of course that's going to be displayed in the pokecenters). Danny holds out, but eventually they give up and go do their challenge of the League and Danny wins, hurrah!

Years later Danny and Jason meet again and reconnect. Phantom and Red Hood decide to play matchmaker. This is the part that's just vibes though. Like! Danny's retired, he did his whole challenge thing and it was fun but stressful and he's ready to focus on school and getting his dream job: astronaut. Jason is back in Gotham but he's been struggling to reconnect with his family and doesn't want to help at the gym so instead he's gone back to his roots and is doing charity work in Park Row Crime Alley. Romantic Comedy antics ensue.

DCxDP Pokemon-ish idea

Just a silly idea I've been kind of batting around while my hands are busy at work. Everyone is normal humans, their alter egos are their pokemon. So for instance: John Jones has a green Martian for his companion pokemon. The Kents give their children a Superboy or Supergirl for their first pokemon.

The Waynes traditionally give their child a Robin regardless of gender. Robin is the Eevee of this AU because there are several forms it can take. For instance: Dick's Robin evolved into a Nightwing and Tim's Robin evolved into a Red Robin. (This implies Bruce used to have a Robin that evolved into a Batman, which is of course what Damian is aiming for.)

Now obviously Danny's companion is Phantom. Not a Phantom, just Phantom. That's right, he's that kid that caught Zapdos thinking it was a Fearow. Danny comes home with his first pokemon showing it oof all "I caught ghost pokemon!" and showing off his brand shiny new legendary. He's ghost/ice type and knows all these cool moves! (I cannot be arsed to go find attacks that fit Phantom.)

Anyway! All that just to be backstory for this DeadonMain story idea: Phantom and Red Hood like each other, so it's up to them to get their trainers to hook up.

[bronzieinthedas]

For @rookappreciationweek, June 25 for Rook Laidir. "Treasure"

An upcoming ficlet for my pre-Veilguard vignette collection featuring Qatesh, my Tevinter slave turned LoF Rook, musing about what treasure truly is.

Qatesh stared at the small heap of coins on the table in front of her. Her treasure, Ma Laidir had said. Treasure. Her tiny share of what the Lords made with the first expedition she went on.  

"Go on, little Rook,“ her mentor encouraged her. "It‘s yours. You worked for it, you decide on what you want to do with it. Spend it or save it."

Qatesh, ex-slave from Tevinter who had never seen money before she turned eighteen, who still found the concept of currency baffling even after two years in Rivain, continued staring at the coins.

In her head, thoughts raced, almost making her dizzy. 

There had been so many jewels, so much wealth displayed in that half-collapsed burial chamber they‘d explored… more than she ever imagined. Qatesh hung back as Ma told her to, just a quivering novice mage, a backup for the party in case things went sideways. Luckily, the whole thing worked out smoothly. But she‘d been there, did her part by being attentive, and was thus worthy of earning her proper place in the Lords of Fortune. 

Her first self-earned money. For a second, she wondered how much wealth she could have amassed already, if all those years and hours spent spinning wool at the workshop had been paid… Bitterness rose in her throat, made swallowing difficult. The treasure hoard would have probably filled a palace. Her worth had solely been in her skilled hands spinning wool, while others reaped the rewards for her hard work.

"I… I think I‘ll save it,“ she said in the end. "But I might go out tomorrow and get myself some fitted bronze bands. For my horns."

She blushed a little at admitting such a frivolous wish. It was something she’d first seen on the other Qunari at the Hilt, and it reminded her of the ribbons her Ma in Tevinter wore. Was her former Ma still alive or not? Qatesh didn't know -- or maybe didn't want to know. She had a new Ma now, someone who didn‘t shun her for being a saarebas. Qatesh wasn’t part of the Qun, but she reasoned she could still take a little pride in her heritage and decorate herself. She was free now. Free to choose who and what she was. 

"Do that. Lets you remember how far you came.“ Her voice gentle, Ma Laidir clapped her on the shoulder once before tucking a wayward strand of hair behind Qatesh's ear. “Come on. Let’s not keep Isabela waiting. I promised we’d join her for dinner.” 

"Yes, Ma."

Qatesh wasn't sure if she had arrived where she wanted to be in her life, but for once, she felt calm. She had a new name, a job, and she was part of a group of people wo didn't want her any harm. Maybe, that was to be treasured more than gold.

[waves-after-dark]

i think its interesting that in the kataang storyline katara is given grief for her endgame being mother, wife, healer A N D not being an active member of the world stage

but in most of the zutara content katara is wife, mother and in quite a few stories embraces her healing abilities because it goes great with zuko being the burn victim

now, i have not read every zutara creation in existence but i have immersed myself in a lot of zutara content for many years since the original show aired and do not mistake my point here, i enjoy zutara, i'm not anti any ship, i'm a multi shipper. this post is a matter of an observation and recent conversations on here over the topic of the katara we see in The Legend of Korra

a lot of zutara works amount to katara and zuko happily married, of course with plenty of drama on the way because it would not be a proper zutara story without all the flair and drama, and naturally, their steam babies

a big difference i see, politically speaking. politically. is katara is a monarch in one story and not in the other

in many zutara stories katara and zuko have the envied romance, beautiful, steam babies and katara is almost always heavily involved in the politics of the fire nation (zuko's court)

and this is the point where i want to offer a perspective change. maybe lok was following a more realistic approach which reality is grim and injust whereas the fantasy that katara is a leader in politics in the fire nation is less likely to be based in reality. and that's fine, it's fanfiction.

we hope and dream as writers and readers

but there is this idea that katara by marrying zuko has more political say and knowledge and influence by simply being his wife and they re-write the entire culture of the royal family, its duties, the family structure of the nation, it's wonderful! but those things do not happen overnight, it is fantasy if it does, it takes generations, centuries to sometimes see that kind of change

unfortunately, The Legend of Korra is grim

there have been a lot of great people who pushed back against abusive systems who were well-known in that bubble of a moment but history washed them away

so the writers "stripped katara's power" maybe the writers were expressing what has happened to women like katara and i know it pisses people off and it is understandable that it does

i do not deny a writer can let their ego get in their writing and just decide they do not want to care about a character and do not want to invest in said character because they no longer care about what the character cares about

all of these things are plausible and the fact that some people do not accept that all are plausible is the definition of close-minded

until bryke says: hey, this is what happened to katara, it is widely left open and let's be honest, no matter what bryke confirms about katara in those years between a:tla and what we see of her in lok, not everyone is going to be happy and that's okay too

[cr0ws-cha0t1c-c0llect10n]

are you enjoying your covefe backreading

YEEEEESSSSSSS I’’M HAIVNG SO FUNNNNNN!!!!!!!!!!! he had so so much wisdom when he first woke up from his brain injuryr i was resisting the urge to rb it all,,,,,, plus he had lijke qctually smart thing to say sometime!!!!! back then sure seems like a time!!!!!!!

i am feeling soooo so knoletch rn and like I’m more myself liek in the summmettr!!!! a good school brelak does that!!!!! collectiing the spring cleaning!!!!!! how it is!!!!!!