#nena's written work

[the-anxious-stargazer]

Like Honey || Sam Carpenter

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Summary: Although Sam have promised herself to not get too close to anyone outside her newfound family, she struggles when she meets a regular in the diner she worked at.

Words: 4.02k

Note: This is inspired from Halsey's song Honey! i'd recommend you guys listen to it while reading :) i'm slowly starting getting into horror bc i dont want to be a pussy no more and watch them for jenna and melissa (they are so hot omfg)

[Masterlist][Part 2]

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Sam promised herself that she'd focus on Tara and the gang first before learning to let new people in again in her life. That promise was made when they all moved to New York after the murders in Woodsboro. After Richie. A betrayal like that is a valid reason for her to be closed off and be suspicious of anyone her sister or her friends meet. The same could be said for Quinn, Ethan, Anika, and everyone else she had met when they were introduced to her. Sam did warm up to the three the longer they stayed. She felt a little more comfortable with them when her gut told her that maybe they were genuine people. But she still almost kept to herself. She almost didn't have any friends outside them other than Danny their neighbor next door.

Being the oldest and mother figure of the group meant she worked for her and Tara's share of rent and other needs. Even though their mother sends money for bills and such, Sam wanted to work still. Though she knew what she get weren't much it didn't hurt to start saving her own money. So she worked to keep herself busy but not too much to not acknowledge that she was suffering such a mental scar from the attacks. One of those jobs was in a diner a few blocks near them. It paid okay and the staff are kind but Sam rarely bothered to get too close to them. All she ever knew from them is that they were willing to offer a smile and small conversation.

Usually, she takes the morning shifts, other times she takes the graveyard ones. You can pretty much figure out which shift she preferred over the other.

The regulars were introduced to her on her first shift by Dale, the main cook. There was a couple, John and Amy, who was always on time in the morning and order eggs and toast only with two refills of drip. Rex is a sculptor who mostly sits in the corner and has a few sketches by the table with him, only ordering an omelet with ketchup. There's also a programmer named Adrian who gets a lot of coffee and a BLT at night. Sometimes his friend Ben joins in with fries. A young woman named Adelaide who works from home and is always on the phone while she ate her waffles and vanilla milkshake. Adelaide would go by the mornings if she wakes up early or comes by near the evening when she could.

Lastly, there was Y/N. Sam has figured before that she looked around the same age as her. Cate mentioned when she was teaching her around that she's been here way before her and she pretty much knew everyone in the diner. She was mostly in the morning with a few files in her hand. She's an assistant in an independent law firm. There were times that she came by night and read some of the files she had all the while taking a sip of her joe now and then, other moments she was taking notes for a case assignment that her boss told her to take a look for him. Sam always gets a warm greeting from her as she did with everyone else when she enters the diner and interacts with her whenever deemed necessary. She thought she was too nice to be true.

"You from New York?" Y/N asks her as Sam fills her mug and couldn't help but doubt for a second if she were going to be honest or not,

Y/N always had a keen eye. She liked watching everyone else and let the world work. That meant she liked observing the customers that enter the diner every now and then, noticing how John always drink his coffee slowly to match Amy's pace and always offers an extra toast to her. How Adelaide sometimes start scribbling on her tissues while she talked to her boyfriend who she assumed lived away from New York. The fidgeting Cate does when she's serving Rex and giggles a little when she talks to him. Y/N could see how tired Sam was even when she had just started her shift a few moments ago. The neatness of her diner clothes, layers of makeup, and fake smile couldn't mask the exhaustion the woman has felt for who knows how long. She didn't want to pry about anyone's story so she tries to offer what she only can to someone who deems her a stranger, kindness. It doesn't hurt to treat anyone fairly.

"No, not from around here. I'm just trying to start over." She answers half-heartedly, trying not to give away any information about her at all. Sam sees a gentle smile from her and she couldn't help but feel the burning sensation on her cheeks.

"I wish you well for that. Everyone deserves a restart." And with that, Y/N thanked her for refilling her.

Those were one of many encounters Sam had with her. There were times Y/N would order 2 cups of coffee for her to share with anyone on the staff and reluctantly Sam accepted her third request at the random times she offered. She was beyond suspicious. Her doubt was understandable given the fact that she went through a lot that broke her sense of trust in anyone. But her cautiousness was only met with a tender conversation. Y/N would always ask how she is and the first and ever personal information she has ever given to anyone outside her family was her. Sam vaguely talked about how Tara has been slowly losing interest in seeking help and acting like nothing happened. Of course, there are a few changes here and there to make it seem like a normal rant about her younger sister and Y/N listened intently to her.

Or maybe it was because she was too distracted by the beauty of the older Carpenter sister.

Those seeming doe eyes that hid too many secrets.

Another night shift has come and to Sam's discomfort, she had to be at work. She just came from therapy and her second doctor had just given up on her, making her night already more dreadful than it was. And just to top things off the students who have been visiting the diner lately have been making it their job to worsen her night by being obnoxious and gossiping over her. They weren't even trying to keep it down as if they were back in high school and Sam had just stolen the famous girl's ex-boyfriend. Tara had told her the rumors about her and Woodsboro before and she couldn't care less about what a stranger, who wasn't even there, would think. It was the breaking point when one of them spilled their milkshake on her "accidentally". The smug smile the girl wore before she did it was almost too easy to miss but little did they know that Y/N had been watching them silently the entire time. The woman's had enough of their disturbance. She had been gripping on her pen hard to almost split it in half.

"I'm so sorry, miss." The girl in white apologized with a snide tone. Her friends giggle at her antics on the now pink-stained light blue blouse Sam wore. It just happened to be a strawberry milkshake too. Just last week a girl threw her orange juice at her when she was on her way home with dinner. At this point she thought she's collecting all the fruit flavored drinks.

"D-Don't worry, I'll get it cleaned up." Sam begrudgingly states while avoiding her eyes before she went to turn around but stopped when she saw how she almost bumped into someone,

Familiar Chelsea boots stood before her.

"I beg to differ." They hear the person say before the woman realizes who it was.

"And who are you supposed to be? Her friend?" One of them asks cockily to which Y/N smiles at their confidence. She had her sleeves rolled up already, coat resting back in her booth and Dale was waiting for her cue to tag along after she signaled him from her table earlier.

"Didn't your parents ever teach you some manners on gossiping about people you don't know? Let alone the one serving you your meals and minding her damn business?" She had slowly paced past the unmoving Sam Carpenter that watched closely. Both hands rested on the side of their table and her anger was prevalent from the way she carried herself in the scene. 

"She's a lying snake and a murdering bitch!" The other one barked from her seat.

"Let me guess, you got that from Reddit? What else are you going to believe next, that Beyonce's part of the Illuminati?" Y/N mocked her statement and that's when Sam realized that she knew about the rumors surrounding her, that she knew some bit of her past.

The girls had been quiet after she pointed out their bullshit. Sam had always seen her be courteous and approachable when she stops by, her smiles almost making her eyes crinkle when waving at them, and treated everyone with reason, but tonight was different. This was a woman who has lost her patience after holding it for so long,

"I'm going to ask you to leave. People like you don't deserve to be served when you treat the servers here like they're nothing." Y/N ordered with her eyes unblinking with focus.

When no one moved, Y/N let Dale handle the rest by approaching the table and the girls scurried fast before they were going to be thrown out by the man who stood almost six feet tall. Sam heard a few yells at the girls to leave the diner when they exited the place and her gaze follows back Y/N who had changed her demeanor. The cook pats her back for her handling the situation and thanks her before he gives Sam a pat as well and comes back to his previous spot. It was then that the woman offered her the unsparing eyes that always looked at her and asks,

"Are you okay?" Sam thought it sounded so sweet, all she could respond was a faint nod. She didn't even comprehend how a bit close she was already to her until a hint of soft vanilla could be smelled from her. Not the kind where it almost smelled artificial like those vape juices, but it was almost authentic. The woman before her then fishes out something out of her back pocket and extended her handkerchief.

"Here. You got an extra blouse, dear?" Another question follows after Sam takes it and started wiping away some of the liquid.

"No, mines in my apartment, and it's a few blocks away," Y/N hears her voice again after it was silenced earlier, "Hey Dale, Peter doesn't mind his servers being out of uniform for a situation like this, right?" She shouts at the cook who was just about to send a plate to Dolly, Sam's partner for the shift tonight.

"Nah, let me handle him when he asks next time. I gotchu Sam." Dale nods their way.

Y/N then started unbuttoning her shirt and it revealed a white tank top underneath her white button-up shirt. Sam knew should be looking away but couldn't even help herself. Her attention was so close on her slightly toned arms until she snapped out of her daze as the woman handed her top, "Here, you can borrow this for now."

Dolly went to grab a mop and started cleaning the rest of the drink on the floor, "I'll take it from here, Sam." She reassures her and Sam was beyond grateful of the people supporting her.

"A-Are you sure?" Sam looks back at Y/N who hasn't fazed.

"Yeah don't worry about it, Sam." She beams.

The Carpenter girl then watched her walk back to her booth like nothing transpired and quietly apologized to the remaining customers she'd passed by before sitting down. But if Y/N was being honest, she was still trying to calm down from the adrenaline. She was well aware that violence was never the option, yet the possibility for things to go south was out there. She never wants to ever resort to that. Sam then finally moved from the spot she was seemingly glued onto since the confrontation and went to change in the staff room. While she was away, Y/N ordered a martini and piña colada instead of finishing her coffee. Caffeine wouldn't help flush away the rush that still lingered. In between changing her top, Sam couldn't help but wonder why someone like Y/N would stand up for her when she barely knew her.

But that thought was pushed aside when she started slipping into the button-up shirt that was handed to her by the very woman she was curious about and a whiff of her scent made its way to her nostrils again. Sam paused for a second to process how addicting Y/N's scent was. Even her damn perfume was almost sweet. After pushing her thoughts away and finishing closing the shirt, she tossed her ruined blouse in her bag and went back out to continue her shift but only to be stopped,

"Hey, I kinda asked Dale to give you a break so... care to sit with me?" Y/N wondered before the drinks she ordered arrived with Dolly winking at her. The woman shyly smiles back at her before she left them alone and dealt with another customer.

"Yeah, I'd… actually like that." Sam settled on the other side of the booth as she slide the glass of martini to her, "Oh, I'm not allowed to drink while on—"

"Take it easy, Sam. You've been through a lot just now so take it. It's on me." She waves off before taking a big sip of her piña colada.

The woman reluctantly takes a decent amount from her glass while Y/N fixes her files that had been slightly scattered on her side of the table. It was the right moment for Sam to finally pop the question,

"You knew?" It came off pretty fast, making Y/N tilt her head.

"About Woodsboro, I mean. I'm sorry that came off harder than intended." Sam clarified her question and apologized for being forward to which Y/N didn't mind.

"That's alright. I've only read two news articles about it but other than that, it's all I know."

"You don't have to tell me about it, Sam. You said you wanted to start fresh, and you don't owe anyone an explanation." Y/N assured her and the Carpenter girl countered, "No, I feel like I can trust you about… all of this." Sam replies before taking a deep breath.

From being the daughter of the original killers in the Woodsboro murders to her seeing visions of her dad in the mirror and being a victim of the ghost face attacks, she spared no details throughout her story, her therapy sessions going almost nowhere because she'd scare them off and Y/N never stopped her flow and listened intently to everything she said. Not even a single sound came out of her mouth as Sam spoke. The only thing she ever offered were observant eyes that watched every move, like how the crease on her forehead slowly increased as she went on or the hint of distaste in her voice when she mentioned her deceased ex-boyfriend. She barely bats an eye when she even admitted that she enjoyed killing him and Amber. Not a single change of muscle movement on her face other than taking a few sips from her drink and blinking now and then.

When Sam finished telling her whole story, she had been anticipating the request for her to leave and never come back, just like the one her psychiatrist said when she told him the truth that afternoon. She had grown to expect that from anyone now. Yet all she heard was an exhale from the woman she shared the table with,

"That's... a lot to take in." She hears her note as she rub her chin,

"I'm sorry you had to go through all that, Sam. You didn't deserve it." Y/N continues with empathetic eyes.

"You don't… feel like the need to push me away?" Sam asks, and for once she feared someone's answer more than anyone else. Almost too afraid that she'd scare Y/N away.

"No, not really." She told nonchalantly.

Sam stared blankly at her as she moved to cross her arms and looked down from her seat. She couldn't tell if she was about to take back her statement or maybe ask her more about the attacks. Yet Y/N was able to catch Sam off guard as she went to finish her martini,

"Not going to lie, those two deserved to die for what they did— I mean… committing murders because your movie franchise sucked? That seems childish, especially for an adult man." Y/N comments on her thoughts, not realizing it made her choke on her drink.

"Oh my god, Sam— are you okay?" She tries to offer her a glass of water though the Carpenter girl waves it off.

"No, no, it's just— you're right their motive seemed childish." A laugh follows, and it makes Y/N smile that she witnesses her being unguarded. She almost felt too lucky that Sam let herself be this vulnerable to her now.

"Thank you, for not turning me away and for always listening," Sam says after calming down.

And Sam meant it. It was nice to be heard and not hated for the first time. She felt safe knowing that she could trust a new person for once. She still has a long way from being able to trust again, but small process is still process.

"You're welcome. You deserve it." The woman says as she leans forward on the table and rested both elbows close to the edge, "If you need someone to talk about... this, I'm always open. No matter what it may be, I won't turn you away." Y/N continues with her signature smile this time.

After that, Sam went on with her shift while Y/N picked back up the papers she had scanned before the confrontation. It's a good thing she noted down her thoughts to remember where she left off and continued looking through some of the witness reports she had brought with her for their recent case. Sam would sometimes steal a few glances from her and offer a small smile whenever she gets caught. That was the moment she started growing more fond of their diner's regular. Each visit felt more special than the last and each offer of coffee breaks has made both of them closer. Whenever Sam wasn't on duty, Y/N would feel a little bored but Sam was able to text her and ask about her day. When there was someone who wanted to talk shit about her, Y/N wouldn't hesitate to spit back at them or push the person when someone throws their drink at her. The Carpenter girl appreciated the gestures and sometimes feels too bad that she gets to be splashed at, but the woman didn't mind. Tara got to meet her one day when she visited Sam to work and hanged out a little just to kill time. She was very skeptical of Y/N at first, but the way her sister eased up around her gave her the impression that she was trustworthy. Sam's trust is hard to earn after all.

The night was about to come, and Sam had just finished her shift when she happen to encounter the person that has been making her days ten times better than she ever expected. Y/N always wore a pantsuit to work, switching from 4 pairs. Today she was wearing the brown one that had a waistcoat and she was killing the style. Sam never gets tired of her presence or the way she always presents herself. She just looked ravishing in a pantsuit. Y/N had her coat neatly folded on her right arm that held folders while her messenger bag rested on her right shoulder. The smile that was so familiar to her greeted Sam Carpenter warmly that she couldn't help but blush,

"Good evening, Miss Carpenter. I'll be your chauffeur for tonight." Y/N announces with an accent. The attempt makes Sam laugh, "If that's your take on a British accent, you need to work more on it." She teased softly, shaking her head.

"C'mon, I'll walk you home." Sam hears her offer and gestured her occupied arm for her to take, which she happily does so.

"How chivalrous of you, Miss Y/L/N. Keep this up, and I might start falling for you." Half of it was a joke, but she was indeed falling for her, harder than Sam even realizes. If only she knew that Y/N had already fallen for her a while now.

She kept herself composed after Sam's teasing. Both of them chatted casually as they walk through the streets of New York. Y/N talked about her day at the office and how their copier was jamming down. It was annoying her and she had to kick it a few times before it worked again. Sam, on the other hand, shared about how a costumer had a screaming match with a date while eating and almost broke things in the diner. Dale was almost livid when the woman raised her plate and was about to throw it at the poor guy. Moments like these were nice for Sam. The life that was just mundane for once and not surrounded by the craziness of her past that still lingers. No screaming stranger threatening her, another flavored drink being thrown her way or a masked psycho trying to kill her, but a quiet night. Laughs were shared, jokes were thrown at each other, and flirts slipped here and there to make it seem like it was nothing. Even if the world around them was a little overwhelming, they were stuck in their own bubble cherishing each other's presence. Y/N was content and she had gathered enough courage until they reached Sam's apartment building. She collected her thoughts and watched her let go of her arm,

"This is me," Sam gestures to the building door, "Thank you for the walk, Y/N. It was... nice." She follows up with a light blush present on her cheeks. She hoped Y/N didn't notice them.

"Yeah, it was." Y/N smiles at her and scratched to back of her head.

"Look, I've been thinking, do you want to grab dinner sometime? You know— like a date. If you don't mind." The woman begins to avoid her brown eyes. Y/N was way too damn shy, and it made the brown girl giggle.

Sam then approaches her and almost closes the gap between them, leaving a peck on her cheek that it made Y/N jump. She turned so red it was almost like she was cherry. It was a first to witness her like this and it made Sam giggle even more as she didn't move away from her spot,

"I don't mind at all. I'm free by 6 pm tomorrow. No need to be fancy or grand, anything cheap would be fine by me." The Carpenter girl move close to her ear to whisper it to her.

Y/N then finally pulls herself together and gathers back the natural courage she had, trying to match Sam's, "6 pm, tomorrow it is then. I'll pick you up here, Carpenter."

She was the one to pull away and she puts back her signature smile before bidding her farewells to her.

"Good night, Sam. Sweet dreams." Y/N smoothly delivers and starts walking back to where they came from earlier.

Sam then watches her walk away and bites her lip. The view was indeed nice to watch. She then covers her face with both hands before giddily smiling at the ground, thinking about what had just happened. Sam thought it felt like high school all over again. That rush in her veins was quite familiar to her. It's been a while since she had it. All she has to do now is prepare for tomorrow and be sure it's perfect. Y/N, on the other hand, skipped through the streets like a little kid as she smiled widely. Few strangers looked at her funny, but everyone else focused to their own world. The papers she thought she'd be working on tonight would probably be forgotten now that the only thing on her mind is their date tomorrow.

Both women looked forward to it.

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thank you for reading! fell free to leave a request :>

[honestsycrets]

mío | baby-fever!miguel o'hara x wifey!reader

❛ pairing | miguel o'hara x wifey!reader, starved prequel

❛ type | oneshot, explicit

❛ summary | after watching mayday, miguel develops a bad case of baby fever, longing for a family of his own.

❛ tags | explicit, miguel has baby fever, babysitting, talk of family planning and contraception, f!reader, breeding, pregnancy kink, much fluff, some angst, starved!reader, miguel being frustrated and cute, clean that kitchen, one stereotype of latina women, Spanish is not translated, best friend!peter, self edited.

❛ request fulfilled | could you possibly write an imagine in which Miguel and his wife take care of mayday? + multiple requests for more starved reader/miguel.

❛ sy's notes | written to fulfill some requests. i do have another daddy miguel blurb to fulfill, but my future works should be nice and angsty.

Peter has it out for him.

It’s the only logical reason why he’d do this shit to him.

Miguel stood in his dark room in a pair of scratchy jeans, dragging a belt loop to loop when he heard the door to his room draw open. A resonant schwap, schwap, schwap.

“Mi reina?” Miguel cocked his eyebrow up, extending his claws.

“¿Sí?” you called back from the bathroom, the distant scent of his favorite perfume wafting into the air. Miguel threw a look to the bathroom, reaching for the bedroom door. It burst open before he could open it. 

“Hi, Miguel! Where’s your wife?”

Peter dragged his feet into the room, whirling around with a sloppily put-together backpack that leaked diapers onto the floor. An exasperated breath left his lips, dripping in the way he looked at Peter.

Unfortunately, his little wife liked Peter a bit too much for his taste.

“I should have known.” Miguel ran his hand through his hair, strands of mocha brown flyaways wisping along his tawny forehead. “Why are you here?”

His normally disheveled appearance was a little more disheveled. It wasn’t his appearance that bothered him but how it reached his eyes. Shocked, confused, tired. Peter pat his deltoid, awkward laughter choking in his throat. It bubbled on the edge of an overwhelmed sob.

“Well, you see, your wife said she’d watch Mayday because I have a date, and I haven’t had a date in a really, really long time. Like, a really long time—”

“Is Peter here?”

His head snapped to your bathroom where you came out, threading a golden hoop earring. You probably already knew the fight that was heading your way-- but for your part, you couldn’t be bothered to care any less.

“Got it, you need this date.” Miguel cut Peter off, standing behind you with his massive arms crossed. “¿Por qué no me dijiste?”

“¡Mi nena! Muévete Miguel,” you giggled, shoving your way past Miguel to Peter’s child carrier, sneaking your hands underneath her little armpits and whirling her around. She cackled, a glittering warmth to her mischievous eyes. You came to a stop, settling Mayday against your chest, nuzzling your foreheads together in some secret pact that the two of you shared.

Oh no, no, no, no. Not this. It hits him at once.

The sight of his wife— beautiful and cuddly with a very young baby in her arms. The only sight more beautiful was at the altar on his wedding day, your shy smile behind a sheer veil. It had been a long time, too long, since he had someone to call him father. He can still picture her glimmering eyes, the way she looked at him in nothing short of admiration, looking past the things that he’d done to see him and only him. Glimpsing at Mayday, remembering Gabriella’s soft, small face, it took him a moment to snap free. 

He's so fucked.

“You would have said no, amado mío.” 

You’re a natural at this, scooting by both men to set Mayday on the bed. Your tiny fingers spiraled out from her belly to change her diaper. Peter jittered uncomfortably, looking as though he wanted to jump in himself. You cleaned her, replacing the dirty diaper with a clean one. “We’re going to a market with Tío Miguel--” 

“Don’t bring me into this.”

“Are you sure it's okay? I’ll be back at five, it's just a few hours, really--” 

“¡Vete! A ratty house robe and a dirty spider suit aren’t sexy. Look at mi Miggy,” now you’re just buttering him up. He shifts his weight from one leg to the other, inspecting the ground. “Wear something nice.” 

They’re sexy to her, he might have murmured. Not on a date, you bopped him. Mayday’s bright eyes tracked the space between you and Peter before you broke away to wash your hands. Peter’s clammy hands cupped Mayday’s sweet face, littering at least a dozen sickly daddy kisses over her tiny face. But Miguel what if--

“Adiós, Peter!” You returned to force Peter out of your room. Miguel peered at Mayday whose head snapped to the side, cheek against her fiery hair as the door clicked shut. He braced himself for the shrill that would inevitably come with her realization that her daddy was gone. She whined, grabbing her toes and tipping nearly off the side of the bed. Miguel begrudgingly hovered at her feet, blocking her from rolling off the bed. He could do this, he told himself, he could resist those giant baby eyes staring up at him.

He didn't need a baby, he didn't.

He blames Peter for having such a good baby.

She doesn’t ask for much other than requiring chest-to-chest contact with Miguel. It’s not that he doesn’t want to hold her, he finds himself aggravated by how much he likes to be around her. In a market full of things to look at food trinkets such as necklaces, body scrubs, and empanadas, it’s all her. Miguel props her up with an arm just under her bum, her tiny finger peeking curiously into his fangs. He snapped his teeth playfully at her, a nip, nip, nip, missing playfully every time. It rips ping a toothy grin across her face. 

“No biting Miguelito,” you called out, sliding your fingers in a teasing ring around his muscled back to chest. You leaned up on your tippy toes, placing a small little kiss on his lips. You ran off to go get her a pineapple whip after her tiny fist yanked your hair over and over again. You relented, staring at what she was cooing at. Sweets-- obviously, sweets. All the little ones loved sweets. 

“She likes it.” 

“Ya sé,” you said, “But we don’t need anyone noticing you’ve grown fangs.” 

“Tch,” he clicks his teeth in protest. She does too, throwing you a mean look for interrupting her fun. You plucked up a bit of the whip on your spoon, cutting through her displeasure through the power of sugar. 

"There's a lot of people here, Miggy, let's go to the park." You point toward the park, pointing away from the mounds of fresh produce and locally sourced goods toward a healthy patch of green grass. Miguel is glad-- he’s sick of being stared at for his huge frame. Despite the ring on his finger, people still seem to try their luck. He couldn't be more disinterested.

You lay a picnic blanket as Miguel holds Mayday's treat. Mayday sprawls across his chest, trying to take just one more bite-- then another-- Miguel looks down, chin level, eyebrow raised. She offers a bit on her tiny index finger to Miguel. A peace offering. “She’s not going to wait.” 

“Give her to me.” You kicked off your sandals on the edge of the blanket, dropping your things on another corner. You pluck Mayday from Miguel’s arms and set her down on the blanket in a way that is too easy. As though you wouldn’t have much of a learning curve in becoming a mother. No, no— you never mentioned anything about kids. Did you even want kids? He couldn't bring his heart to ask, to hope again.

“I didn’t know you were so experienced with kids.” 

“Mami had six,” you noted, plopping down with the whip by Mayday’s side. She sat with a small slant, reaching out toward the sweet treat again with those chunky, adorable hands. You brought her into your lap, at last relenting. “When you’re the oldest, you have to learn a little something to help out. Can you imagine-- being pregnant six times? Ay no.”

“How many times do you want to be pregnant?” he blurts out. Usually timed and precise, the question causes him to pinch his brow as he sits beside you. “Si quieres,” 

Your other hand comes on top of his and shifts it away from his face. 

“As many as will make you happy.” 

Shock. He chews on that response, his eyes glued to Mayday lapping at the last spoon of sweets you are willing to give her. She falls into a fit of complaints, a conniving look at the sweets, just as you lift her onto your shoulder.

"I never thought about it."

"No more, your papa won't forgive me if I bring you home all sugared up," you tsked your tongue at her. You patted along her back in small, tight circles until her angry huffs faded away. He reaches for the baby bag, slipping free a soft yellow blanket with white spiders strewn across the front. Miguel slides the blanket on top of Mayday’s small body, her groggy eyes sliding closed.

The more he watches you with Mayday, holding her so close, swaying as you held her, the deeper this ache burrowed in his chest. You would look beautiful all swollen with his child. Never mind Mayday or Peter, he can nearly see it, feel it under his fingers, the feeling of your taut belly under his skin, or the kick of tiny feet against his palm.

“We’ll see, Miggy.” 

We’ll see-- the answer seems too noncommittal, too distant to be a satisfactory answer. With Mayday sound asleep, you settle her between your plush thighs. She expelled bursts of energy that milked her energy dry.

A little old woman passed by, her cane pierced soft grass as she moved closer with a bag of tomatoes and green beans. Her face, aged by time, pulls into a wide smile. He doesn't like her smile.

“You two are doing a great job. How old is she?” 

You blink, looking up into the woman’s cool blue eyes, her dark hair peppered with thick grey and white strands. You tuck Mayday in her soft blanket, sparing the woman a kind smile that Miguel doesn’t quite have the patience for. 

“Oh, oh. Thank you-- um, a couple of months,” you recount, perhaps thinking of Peter’s anxious pacing or his delighted shouts about becoming a father. 

“Adopting is a great option. Back in the day, my husband was a bodybuilder too. Had a low sperm count don’t you know. Steroids shrink things. Oh, but these days you can do all sorts of things like IV--”

A what-- Miguel’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull at the suggestion. Was this old bitch’s suggestion that he couldn’t do it-- couldn’t get you pregnant? He could easily do that. If he wanted you pregnant, you would be shocking pregnant. He’d be damned if some old woman put it in your mind that he couldn’t.

“We’re babysitting for a friend,” he blurts out. “I have--” had, “a daughter.” 

“Oh, do you? I’m sorry. I thought-- well, it doesn’t matter what I thought, have a good day."  

She’s saying that, but it comes out slanted. You don’t bother correcting Miguel, not on this. Rather, your hand inched toward his, picking up on the energy that was pluming from his body in waves. Irritation-- annoyance-- the little old lady hobbles off. You’re in your mind well enough to bid her goodbye. But you know better than to say anything more, slumping your cheek on Miguel’s firm chest. It makes the ache of Gabriella's memory a little more bearable. 

 Low sperm count his ass. 

It bothers him long after Mayday is gone. Peter, for his part, looks refreshed. He supposes that’s what happens with a full day of opportunity to empty your balls after weeks of no relief. It bothers him long after you come back from the kitchen, his favorite dark red slip plastered to your perfect body. It would look beautiful, full of his children— he just knows it. 

“I may have hijacked the kitchen a little bit,” you teased, the waft of warm chicken and brewed spices filled his nose. He had no appetite. “But I made you some pollo guisado.” 

“Hm,” he grunts into a pillow. “Later.”

Beside the bed, he has a bowl of brightly colored condoms. With your sensitivity to birth control, it is the best option available. It wasn’t, however, something he was ever happy about. He should be able to feel your body. Not once had he felt your body pure and unadulterated, warm and perfect for him. He was your husband. He wanted that moment— to fill you up just once, watch his cum dribble out of your cunt. It would be perfect. You set the food away, bowl and spoon clinking together.

“Miguel.” 

Forget your warm body. This room is too quiet. It is almost stifling in its silence. Mayday’s sweet huffs, the memory of Gabriella’s laughter. A proper home full of a child's giggles. He’s going crazy-- he has to be-- this isn’t normal. This isn’t Miguel. 

“Mi vida, don’t pout,” you reach out, rolling your fingers through his long brown hair. Your fingers tease along his scalp, turning around his ear. Your fingers tickle his lobe, your voice cemented in a concern that he wanted nothing more but to fix if it were anything other than this. “Miggy. Miggy, what is wrong? You look sad.”

“I’m not sad,” he says with a whine on his pillow. How silly he must look with his broad arms wound around the body pillow, squeezing its fluff for life. If he said the words well enough, you might believe them. 

“I know you are,” you nudge the pillow loose. He takes you instead, the air thickening with the closeness. You fed off the tension, sliding your leg over the sheet that covers his naked hip. “Tell me why.” 

He turns his hands over your thighs, traveling past your hips to ghost along your belly. 

“Sí, Miggy?” 

“I need…” he trailed off, finding the words nearly impossible to admit. They grow into a ball and cement in his throat, present but stubborn. Rather than break the words free, he swallows a bolus of desire and frustration. “It’s nothing. Let it go.”

The issue was— you loved him enough to let it do so. 

Miguel doesn’t want to press the issue. He knows you. All you want is Miguel’s happiness. Sometimes, he worries it is at the price of your own. The distance he places between you and him is intolerable. It bothers him every time he finds you babysitting Mayday.

Today, while Peter goes on a small date, you and Mayday make his favorite empanadas. She’s covered in a dusting of flour from head to toe. Peter would have fun with that. 

“Miggy you’re back?” you called as Mayday’s chubby hands shot out, nearly plopping off the counter if not for Miguel’s quick reflexes, setting her back in place. 

“Empanadas?” he settles the words in a small kiss to your lips. You glance at him over your shoulder. 

“It's... it's Gabi's birthday, isn't it?"

You’re too good for him. Despite the day coming and going, no one else notices his grief today. Not even Peter who came in alongside him, reading the room, and snatching up Mayday off the countertop. He’s babbling something, a thank you, see you later— you kiss Mayday with only the sweetness a mother could know.  

“Peter! Mayday made these for you,” you reach out to a box of uncooked empanadas. “Take them home!”

Her first empanadas— the delight is palpable. Peter may have snapped a photo, or ten, of his little flour girl on the way out, empanadas in hand. Then there’s silence. Miguel returns the nearly forgotten bundle of empanada dough and filling to the fridge in the space of unspoken tension. Miguel dips down to your neck, caramelized perfume warm on your neck. His lips trace the warm pulse of your neck. 

“Mami,” his voice mesmeric, warm like the filling you used to make him happy when no one else could. Your doting attention, even in the face of real issues like work and babies, was always on him.

"Sí, mi vida?"

His hands coast around your waist, using his strength to gently turn you around. It isn’t important right now. What is important is how he lifts you up onto the floury surface, purring his need into your slight ear. “I want a baby.”

“¿Qué?”

“Una niña,” Miguel leans his fingers along your collarbone. 

“Oh, Miggy.” You puff the words. They come out almost wounded. You know him so well, the vulnerability of the words causing him to look down. Your warm palms cradle his cheeks, forcing him to look into your eyes. “You miss being a father, don't you?”

You’re not stupid. Neither is he. He thought he could wait— watch Mayday grow up and not feel this sundering longing. As though he could stomach never feeling a child in his arms again. The ghosts of the past that came with Mayday’s longing haunt him day by day. 

You devour his insecurity, winding your legs around his waist and forcing him forward. He stumbles into your embrace, as though he were not a man who could decimate villains and spiders alike. When he was here, in your arms, he barely felt like the weapon of a man that he is. 

“Miguel. Speak to me.”

“You’re right,” he can’t lie— can’t hide the longing that comes with the thought of his own child on his chest. Not Mayday, no matter how many times she cuddled up to his chest. At the end of the day, she would never be his. You drew your lip into your mouth, nipping it fat and red, a bob in your head. His heart beats faster, strumming as though it would break free from his chest. Whatever it is you’re thinking he’s not sure. Only that it’s been so long.

“I just want to make you happy, will this make you happy?” you nearly whisper, knowing that there’s no one but him to hear the words. It’s what he wants for you, too. As he stands there, coursing his fingers along your thighs and hiking your dress up your hips, he can’t help but feel the foggy discomfort of forcing you into parenthood before you were ready. 

“It will.”

As well as it could. It would never erase Gabriella-- and, in the vulnerability of begging his wife for another child, came the guilt. Not only the guilt of failing to be a proper father or to protect her but moving on without her in his life to a beautiful family she would have loved. The feelings surge in his chest, a well of uncomfortable emotions in his eyes, threatening to fall. 

“Miguel,” you’re whispering, your fingers cutting across his sharp cheekbones. You cup his face, drawing your lips together in a commanding kiss. You never liked being ignored or forgotten. He’s not sure how he could now, with your tongue flicking between his lips, begging him to come back with a sugary sweet whine. “Stay with me, Miguel.” 

“I am,” he says, gripping either side of the counter by your hips. He feels your eyes on him, soft and careful, pressuring him to meet your gaze. He searches for an inkling of an answer in your gaze. "¿Qué piensas?"

“We can try,” you bite your lip, sliding it free between your teeth. “If you don’t have a low sperm count,” you tease. “Maybe it’ll take.” 

“¡Por dios!” He throws a curse to the side as if he believed in such a being, throwing a look back at you. “You don’t actually believe that vieja.” 

“Ay Miggy, of course not.” His lips work into a budding smile. You leaned up against his stubbly jaw, setting soft kisses there. Your lipstick stains his neck, dragging down to his prominent adam’s apple. He looks down at you with heady eyes, tracing the way you suckled a mark on his throat. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t like them a little more when others noticed them, little marks of possession. Miguel’s fingers come up to the straps of your dress, easing them over and down your slight shoulders. You pull back, words forming puff against his neck. 

“Not right here,” you inhale a soft breath. “Someone could come in.” 

Miguel eases his finger over the small bud of your breast, rolling his thumb along the silken skin, His hand comes up, encompassing your neck and shoving you back into the cabinets. It isn’t comfortable, not by far. He works the nub to its peak before turning his attention to the other. His mouth covers your breast, fangs grazing your nub as he suckled and tugged gently. Miggy, you pull him back up, stripped of your touch. Your hand slide across Miguel’s chest, tracing the taut muscles of his chest. 

“Who would come in?” 

“Peter,” you answer. 

It’s always Peter. He supposes that you wouldn’t want your friend to see you here, cunt stuffed with Miguel on the very same counter you earlier made him empanadas on. Miguel snatched the dress that fell along your hips laxly, utilizing it to yank you off the counter. You fell forward into Miguel, a heavy wall of muscle, your lips failing to form anything of use. You looked at him, cheeks flush and eyes doting, he’s the only one you see. 

“The balcony, then.” 

“Dianche, Miguel! Do you want all of Nueva York to see me?” 

“Maybe.” 

No, but see Miguel breeding you? Undoubtedly yes.

He couldn’t simply choose the bed, that would be too easy. Miguel set a kiss on your forehead, soft and scratchy with his stubble. You return it by dragging him down for another kiss, a wave of warmth coming over him as you force your hips back onto him, rolling your hips against his, teasing him. Miguel doesn’t appreciate the tease and gently pushes on your hips, motioning you to face the counter. 

“Bend over.” 

"Can't we go to my room?" you complain but comply all the same. Miguel’s palm ghosts your spine, dragging his fingers smoothly over the middle of your back and past the dress that gathered around your hips, He strips you of the little cover the dress gave, eager to have you bare and rid of the thin clothing that served as a veil from prying eyes. Miguel can cover you from the prying eyes of others if necessary. Not that he cared if others saw him fucking-- he’s all the more eager to have you all to himself, here and now. 

“No panties,” he notes, his warm hands on your inner thighs. “It’s almost like you knew.” 

“I might have,” you return, spreading your legs obediently for him. He palms your vulva, your hips shifting down over his hand. Sticky and wet, he wonders if his need to breed you has rubbed off on you too. His fingers shift, sliding over your soft hole. “Apúrate Miguel, you’re so slow.”  

“Can’t you be be good for once.”

You were always bossy. He likes it, most the time, being led around by what his pretty little wife wants. Today he wants to take his time, curving his broad fingers into your glistening cunt. Your wetness drips over his knuckles, fingers teasing the velvety soft walls he has never felt without a condom. A pleasured cry wracks in your chest, turning your head over your shoulder to watch Miguel’s fingers stretching you out. No matter how much your walls gave under his fingers, you would still ache when he penetrated you. It was the favourite part, the rich pull of his dick into your hole, bottoming out as best he could in your stomach. He soothes your complaints by grazing his other hand against your perky clitoral hood, finding the soft nub there for relief. You settle your arms on the floured surface.

“I never-- ah-- am,” you threw back.

Miguel slipped his fingers free, cupping your cunt with his palm for a teasing slap. You want to be good-- it’s just so hard, your cunt pulsing in the abswnce of his touch. He drags his sodden fingers to your lips, glazing them in taste of your lubricant. You suckle your tongue around his thick digits, savoring your own taste, his soft grunt of approval spurring you on. You feel like such a good girl with his fingers crooked in your mouth. 

“Are you ready?” Miguel stands fully upright, dragging your hips to his. He’s hard as the counter you were pathetically clinging onto. His hipbones ground into your plush ass, dick pulsing in his immediate ache to feel your cunt. He backs up, fiddling with something at the waist. You don’t need to ask to know that it was his big cock grinding between your cheeks, smearing fluid over your slit.

“No condom?” 

“No condom,” he affirms. You bow your head, nodding gently over the countertop. The head of his cock drove into your wetness, pushing past bundles of nerves. It’s impossibly different without the bag over his dick. It’s been so long. His world blinks out, savoring the feeling like he was an inexperienced teenager again. 

“Carajo, you’re so good,” he finds himself cursing, leaning over your back. 

“Now he says I’m good."

“Shh,” Miguel clips with a mean nip at your nape, lining it with soft kisses, encouraging you on to take him. Warm and wet, Miguel can only describe the slide into your cunt as untethered delight. Released from the bondage of his usual condom, he’s a mess against your soaked cunt, gripping you for a semblance of stability. 

I just want to make you happy. For all your needy complaints and little quips, he knows you do. Otherwise he wouldn’t be here, with your hands cupped on top of his, squeezing for more closeness. Miguel laces your fingers together in a needy weave, drawing back to stroke his cock right back into your wet body. You lead one of his hands between your legs, urging him on to stroke your clit. Your walls clamp down on him, teasing out bursts of pleasure with how deeply he was buried. Miguel’s lips part into a whine of his name, skin slapping against skin. He sets a kiss in the crook of your neck, breath nearly unbearable. 

“Mami,” he gasps, the word coming out between his unstable thrusts. Your eyes shut hard, sparks of pleasure winding and building in your core. “Give me a baby.”

“Sí papi,” you heave, “I”m trying to.”

Miguel knows what you like-- and you like him desperate. His voice so low and rich that you gush around his swollen length, falling apart below him. He catches your body from dropping in an instant, his thighs shaking as he works you through the fibers of gentle pleasure. Hot pressure builds low in his stomach. 

“Qué bella eres. I’m going to finish, fill you and knock you up,” he whispers, drawing himself free and admiring the hazy space of pleasure and reality. Miguel turns you back to face him. You think you may complain-- you didn’t cum, or something of the sort. He shifts you to sit on the counter, spreading your vulva for inspection. Miguel spat on your cunt, rolling his fingers over the swollen folds to spread you apart. He slipped into the space between your shaking legs. You felt him thrust into your body hard and sharp. Your hands reached out, dragging Miguel’s shoulders forward, clinging onto his body. 

It comes all at once, Miguel’s stuttering thrust forward, a deep groan filling the kitchen, his hand clasped onto your thigh so hard you know he’ll bruise it. You catch his moan in a kiss he doesn’t reciprocate, buried so deep in your body that all he can think to do is to force you to take all of it. He shakes himself free of the web of pleasure that he’s enveloped in, looking at you past the thin rivulets of sweat you wiped away with your loving thumbs. 

“I think there are better positions for baby making,” you lean in, kissing him gently. He returns the kiss this time, eyes light of the strain and stress of the last few days.  “Like… not this.” 

Miguel pulls back, his soft cock slipping free from your warm entrance. Miguel watches as his seed dribbles from your hole, grunting in acknowledgement. He swipes your mixed fluids and rolls it between his fingers. 

“I’m open to suggestions.” 

He loves his wife. More than anything. What he doesn’t love is how Peter seems to know that you’re trying for a baby.

The thing about having a woman from his same cultura was this: you loved to talk with your best friend. Who, just so happened to be Peter. He doesn’t even have to say anything, just staring at him with a quirk on his lip and a terrible glitter in his eye after he’s resolved another meeting.

“Hey, Miguel.” 

“Don’t start.” 

He’s crowded with work at his desk-- he has no time for Mayday’s curious little eyes to glitter at him, Peter to be doing that shit he did when he wanted to be helpful. He offered his hands up, shrugging. 

“I’m just saying! I’m a man, you’re a man,” he mumbles, inching a little closer and closer. “If you want a baby--” 

“Let me guess. She told you.” 

“Mayday could use a spider buddy,” he held Mayday up, out of her carrier. Miguel glanced down at her wild hair, exhaling air out of his nose with a little huff. “Sooner than later?” 

“I’ve done it before,” Miguel throws back. “I know how to knock up my own wife, Peter. I don’t need help.”  

Peter is offering help as if Miguel hadn’t tasted the changes in your body when he ate you out. Never mind that he saw you nauseated this morning, too sick to handle a call that Miguel promptly answered. He knew his seed had stuck-- you wouldn’t feel so miserable otherwise. It doesn’t matter, he’d answer them all if it meant another little one in his arms at the end of it all. Just so long as you and the baby were safe. 

“Are you sure? I know--” 

“I’m damn sure.” Miguel turned around, his head in his hand. “I’ve had enough of you. Why don’t you do something useful? Bring her something for her morning sickness.” 

“Oh,” realization fell over Peter like a hammer, looking down to Mayday who looked right back up to her father. For all that Peter knew about his love life, he was shocked that you hadn’t told him how awful the smell of breakfast meat made you feel. His hand fell away, a film of pride slipping from his practiced features when Peter spoke. “But... She’s already pregnant?” 

He leers. Peter scuttles away. 

Privacy is important to Miguel. You knew the damn rule. No telling Peter about the inner workings of your bedroom. For that, you were going to fucking get it. You likely knew you were going to get it-- even if you were likely already pregnant.

He can’t wait.

[imgoingtofreakoutnow]

Baby, be still for me

Summary: Miguel accidentally bites you, paralyzing you for a while...

Pairing: Miguel o'Hara x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, porn with no plot, overstimulation, fingering, oral (f!receiving), cockriding, p in v unprotected (always use protection guys!!!), small aftercare, Miguel!switch, reader!switch

A/n: this is definitely the filthiest thing I've ever written so I hope you all enjoy <3 (tagging @tripleyeeet because yes)

\_/

The bite had been an accident, or at least that was what Miguel told you.

Just below your jaw, so close to your jugular. You could still feel the sting, the slight pain and numbness where Miguel's fangs had dipped in your skin.

The paralyzing serum had worked quickly, more than what Miguel had anticipated. In less than a minute you found yourself completely still in bed, still breathing but unable to speak or move anything other than your eyelids.

"Do you want me to stop, nena?" Your breath quivered as he moved his hands down your waist, grabbing a handful of your thighs and pushing your legs open. "Blink once for yes," he whispered, his words accompanied by a shallow movement of his fingers along your inner thigh, "and two for no."

You blinked slowly, even your working muscles almost stuck in a haze. You hadn't opened your eyes back from the second blink that Miguel's tongue had already moved on your folds, lapping and sucking on your clit.

You tried to scream his name, but all that left your mouth were incomprehensible moans and grunts as Miguel's tongue slithered inside and out of you.

The first orgasm reached you quickly in a blurred ecstasy, followed by another one when his fingers finally entered your pussy and reached the spongy spot that his tongue didn't manage to.

Every nerve in your body screamed for more, to push your hips towards him and rock them in a symphony of movements, to grab his hair and pull his mouth on every inch of your skin they hadn't touched yet.

"¿Te gusta así, nena?"

His voice was low, a hot breath against your skin as his fingers kept pumping inside of you and his thumb circled relentlessly on your clit.

Some air left your lungs, intending to cry out a yes, but your lips still weren't collaborating. A needy and broken moan escaped your mouth, a visceral sound you didn't know was in you.

Another moan followed the first one though when Miguel stopped his motions.

"You gotta answer me, cariño." Wet fingers reached your chin up and pulled it down until you met his scarlet eyes. There was a wild rawness in them, that made your heart and core throb.

"Do you like this?" he asked again, his hands going back inside your slick folds but without ever breaking eye contact. "Yes or no?"

You blinked, your chest moving sharply up and down, and Miguel smirked devilishly.

"Muy bien," and he continued the siege of your pussy as his other hands played with your nipples.

You didn't know how long this went on, your mind was completely drunk with pleasure. Everything between your legs was red and puffy and so, so sensitive.

That's probably why you didn't even realize when your arms moved and your hands gripped Miguel's hair.

He raised his face, lips swollen and smudged with your juices, and another smirk appeared.

"Welcome back, sweetheart." He crawled towards you and kissed you — no, he ate your lips. You could taste yourself on his and somehow that set your core on fire once again.

"You treated me so well," you whispered breathless on his mouth, pulling him closer by the neck. As you did, you felt his cock resting on your belly, hard as a rock. "Now let me do something to help you."

Before he could say something or pin you against the mattress, you thrusted him on his back and sat on his erection.

Miguel opened his mouth to say something but a quiet moan was all that came out as you started grinding on it.

"I'm gonna ride your dick," you explained, the friction making you gasp for air for every word you uttered, "and you will stay there. No hands on me, nothing."

You moved from his penis and sat on his chest, wet from both your cum and his pre-cum. "Am I clear?"

Miguel nodded. "Sì, clarísima."

And as much as him speaking Spanish turned you on, you shook your head.

"Blink, love."

Another smirk pulled his lips upwards as he blinked.

"Muy bien."

When you finally guided his cock inside of you, you felt no resistance whatsoever. Your walls opened up as if they had been waiting for it and immediately sucked it in completely.

You and Miguel gasped together when his tip hit your spongy spot, and you heard him swear under his breath when your hips started thrusting.

"Joder!" he gasped as your sped up your motions, gripping his hair with one hand and the sheets with the other.

You threw your head back, your eyes closed as you simply fucked yourself into his cock. The sound of your bodies was an incoherent mix of squelching and gasping and swearing and your pussy almost hurt from all the prior overstimulation, but your mind was completely drunk on all of these sensations.

The knot inside your stomach was close to come undone, you just needed a little push, but you weren't alone in this.

You looked down on him as your hand went down to your clit and started circling it quickly.

"Gonna come for me, big boy?"

Miguel didn't wait for an answer. He pushed himself up, so that you were chest to chest and thursted into you a couple more times before he filled you up.

You followed soon after, eyes closed and limbs tired, and you let your forehead fall on Miguel's shoulder.

He kissed gently your salty skin, and you felt him smiling against it.

"What?"

"Nada," he shrugged, leaving the bed to retrieve a towel from the bathroom. "Just thinking I should bite you more often."

You chuckled, too tired to even think of a way to respond. You simply let him take care of you, as you always did.

\_/

Spanish translation:

Nena - baby

Cariño - darling

¿Te gusta así? - Do you like it like this?

Muy bien - Very good

Sì, clarísima - Yes, very clear

Joder - Fuck

[sthavoc]

Hey! Looove your blog sm. Idk if you write smut but if you do, could you write Enzo giving you head? If that’s ok w you, and feel free to just ignore if it’s not

⋰˚💦 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐌𝐘 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄 | ENZO VOGRINCIC

·˚ ༘ pairing: enzo x fem!reader

·˚ ༘ summary: enzo giving you pleasure. that’s it.

·˚ ༘ warnings: neck kisses, oral (fem receives), fingering, moans, teasing

·˚ ༘ note: guys! i’ve never really written smut 😭 I mean the times i’ve written it I don’t like it. so I’m absolutely sorry if this is trash. I decided to keep it a bit short for the first time. the reason I haven’t written it is bc I’ve tried to avoid it for the very reason I just wouldn’t know what/how to write it. I wouldn’t blame you if you don’t like it. I really tried my best tho. still, if any of you somehow liked this, smut is on the table, I don’t mind! ps anyone got tips on how to write it?? it would be of great help!! hoping there’s no grammar errors

Your moans were softly audible, coming from the inside of your hotel room. Your head, tired from frequently coming up and down to see how Enzo poised over your body. Lips so near to your skin that the tease was being too much.

“Que bonita te ves.” He glided himself up to you to kiss you, and you hooked him quickly. His bottom lip was locked with your upper lip, not wanting to let go.

Enzo’s lips bussed down from your jawline to your neck, his tongue going in spirals on the soft warm skin. It made you tremble and whine. “Enzo ya. Sabes como me mojo con tus besos.”

He didn’t stop and rather of keeping his space slow, he went quicker. You could feel the wetness in you grow, you wanted to pull away, but Enzo knew your every motion. He had his hand on the back of your neck kipping you locked between his hand and lips.

“¿Y por qué crees que me encanta hacerlo chiquita?” His head changes positions to look at your blubbering eyes. “Me encanta ver como te descontrolas con tan solo estos besitos.”

He kissed the center of your chest, proceeding to go down onto your belly. The momentum of it was fast, and your breathing was loud you were afraid everybody could hear you. But at the same time, you weren't providing a care in the world. Your head balled back after you watched how Enzo looked between your legs and the eye contact he kept with you as he bent your legs up to keep a grip.

“Me gusta como me miras con esos ojitos tan hermosos que tenes, chiquita.” The fervor of his breath fell between your legs, teasing you. “Y todo esto para mi.” His eyes go down.

You could deem the burn from how fatigued your neck was and also from how alluring your body had gotten from the previous actions Enzo had done with you. But you wanted to look at him, admire how he looked between your thighs, and how his veiny and strong hands linked between them. He peppered your inner thighs with gentle sloppy kisses that got closer and closer to your clit.

“Dios-” You grasped the sheets when his tongue slid up your lips, and again. He went in a circular motion before giving your clit a kiss. A kiss that he softly sucked in on.

“Sigue haciendo esos sonidos nena. No pares.” Enzo adored your moans. Just the sound of them could get him hard, and you knew that. So the chance of you hiding them wasn’t in the cards.

The veins in his hands kept on marking harder from the blood that pumped through his body, along with the force he pertained to your thighs. Nail marks would for sure be left. Your moans were working him up and he wasn’t containing himself from groaning on you, making it vibrate against your clit. You felt the heat on your stomach, and on the back of your neck. Your baby hairs had already stuck onto your skin, soaked in the sweat.

“Enzo-” Oh how he loved it too when you whined his name, It was one of his drawbacks. He fled free one of your thighs to rub your clit for more stimulation, seconds later sticking one finger inside you, making you grip his hair. Strongly. With one hand on his hair and the other on the sheets.

His pace never quelled, the roughness was there and the kissing was sloping. And if his tongue felt tired, it didn't matter to him because he was not going to stop until you came. He twirled his finger inside of you making you flutter and keep the grip tight on his hair. The suction with every kiss felt as if you were getting closer. And Enzo knew it.

“Sabes tan bien chiquita.” He groaned on your lips making your cheeks colored more red from the praise. As if having them tinged from what he was doing wasn’t sufficient already.

The man was keen on it. Your brain was murky, but you couldn’t help but guess about the way his tongue was moving. It was going in different directions, that he wouldn’t usually do. You felt how he did a zig-zag motion and then a circle.

He was writing his name.

The thought of it only made you moan even more, you were so close you could only shove his head deeper into your pussy. Enzo had added another finger to work you up even more before he let go of your other thigh to bring up his hand towards your breast to play with. Giving it light squeezes before he played with your nipple, his finger going up and down. Also twirling it between his index and thumb.

You felt your legs beginning to shake and that’s when Enzo knew you were close, he started to go harder with his fingers and faster with his tongue. Doing all kinds of motions. Going up and down, in circles, front and back, doing the figure eight.

“No pares.” You felt the warmness grow in your stomach, and your legs shake from how good his rhythm felt. Your moans continued and your skin was washed. Your mind had you unconsciously locking his head between your thighs. His name fell from your lips oftentimes as you reached your orgasm, and all Enzo could do was oversee you with lust in his eyes.

Your head was rolled back, your jaw was dropped a little, your cheeks were flushed and you had your eyes closed. Yet he could still see the faint drops of tears. The sex face he loved. When your unstableness came to ease your chest was abruptly going up and down. The cloudiness in your brain was starting to fade as you came back to your senses.

Enzo had remained on his spot while he watched the equilibrium come back to you. He gave your upper thighs soft kisses before he came back up from his spot onto the bed. He was gentle to give you a free bed sheet to cover yourself as you rested your back on the headboard turning to look at him with a smile on your lips.

“¿Deletreaste tu nombre verdad?” Your eyes looked for a reply on his face. And your smile only grew after the only action he gave was a smirk.

“Sabes que me encanta que digas mi nombre.” He shrugs making an effort to give a silly reason.

You only smiled and gave him a small nudge before he brought you into a soft embrace.

This man will forever be your weakness.

[soft-girl-musings]

Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps - CHAPTER 5 (Something's Gotta Give)

Noir!Jake Lockley x WOC Lounge Singer!Reader

written in collaboration with + header by @mrs-lockley

chapter 1 chapter 2 chapter 3 chapter 4

cross-posted to ao3

tags: late 1940s Noir AU, Reader is WOC coded but with no physical description besides being slightly taller than Jake while wearing heels, no use of Y/N, brief mention of past injury, spanish translation at end (courtesy of @queerponcho, thank you beloved)

wc: 3.4k

fic summary: Of all the gin joints in all the world, Jake Lockley walks into yours. Unfortunately for him, it's not quite the start of a beautiful friendship.

chapter summary: immovable object? the unstoppable force would like a word.

__________

As far as peace offerings go, it’s not the worst.

At least, that’s what you’ve told yourself as you stand outside your neighbor’s apartment, your fist failing to close the distance and knock. In one hand you hold a plate of pastries you’d bought earlier. Hopefully it’s enough.

Before you can raise your hand again, the door whips open. 

Leah Mendoza, ever the force to be reckoned with, stands with arms akimbo and eyebrow raised. “Quit shuffling your feet and come inside, nena.”

You oblige wordlessly. Crossing the threshold, you immediately feel the warmth of her apartment embrace you. Not that she’s escaped the chill that plagues your building; Leah is an artist, and every flat surface serves as either canvas or easel. Most spaces are covered in surreal portraits and near-magical icons, her handiwork displayed as a gorgeously chaotic gallery. Sunlight streams through gauzy curtains to feed sprawling plants and attempts to warm the richly colored rug beneath your feet.

You leave your shoes at the door and hold out the platter, smiling sheepishly. “Hope you still have a sweet tooth.”

“It's been so long, I'm surprised you remember.” Despite her playfully icy tone, Leah’s expression warms as she peeks at the pan de mallorca you hand over.

“...But I suppose going five blocks out of your way for breakfast makes up for it.” She nudges you with her hip before escorting  you to the kitchen.

“Look what the cat dragged in, Caro,” Leah calls out to the seating area as she pours two mugs of coffee. You see your other friend’s smiling eyes light up at the sight of you.

“Ohhh, it’s been ages!” she squeals as she rushes to your side, tackling you with an enthusiastic hug.

Caroline Ngo, the youngest of your trio, has always brought a much-needed energy to your time together. When she and her parents moved in, you and Leah decided to adopt her into your early morning ritual of coffee and gossip. As her rosy cheeks beam up at you, you’re (a bit selfishly) grateful that she’s delayed her college applications by a year. You’re not ready to part with your other baby bird just yet.

Still, you pry yourself from her grasp. “Something tells me you had an early start on the coffee.”

“Maybe,” she drawls as she saunters away. Leah passes you a steaming mug, prepared just the way you like it.

The three of you sit, sipping and smiling as the room grows brighter with the sunrise. Leah regales you with the results of her latest art show; Caroline badgers you for updates about Mauricio, dimpled cheeks flushed as she speaks. For a few moments, everything feels like it used to.

Leah finishes her pastry and turns to you. “So, ‘Ms. Songbird’. How are you?”

You shrug, dismissive. “Oh, you know. The usual.”

“No, I don’t know. You haven't been around for us to see your ‘usual’.” Leah's voice is measured, but she’s clearly frustrated. “Can you tell me the last time we've heard more than a ‘good morning’ from you? Or were together for longer than an elevator ride to our floor?”

You chuckle nervously. “Goodness, maybe… August? September?”

“June.” She sips her coffee before setting it down. “Are things really so busy at work that you can't spare a moment for us anymore?”

If only you knew.

“I'm sorry, ladies. Truly. But things have been picking up at the lounge, I've even had to get outside help–”

“Ah yes, the altar boy lawyer.” Leah shakes her head. “I thought you were done with him.”

“‘Done with him?’ Leah, he's my friend.”

“Oh, I recall. So good a friend that he lets you ice his bruises and clean his cuts.” She crosses her arms. “So good, he's even bringing new friends with the same scrapes to your door.”

“The other night was an emergency–”

“How long are you going to run around with that kind of crowd?” Her voice bites. “Believe me, I know my share of the nightlife. But every time you bring home some broken man, a load of trouble seems to follow.”

This is not where you saw the morning going. “I thought we were spending time together, not berating the company I keep.”

“Please don't be upset,” Caroline pleads, taking your hand from her seat on the floor. “We miss you. You haven’t been home in weeks,” she laments. “At least, not for more than a couple of hours.”

You shift in your seat but give her hand a light squeeze. “I've missed you, too.”

“Then do something about it.” Leah gets up, crossing the room to distract herself with more coffee but then doubles back to look you in the eyes.

“You know my gut is never wrong, nena. And I wouldn't be a good friend if I didn't speak my mind.”

You brace yourself as she continues. “You can spend your nights hiding behind your Songbird persona and running the lounge, but don't be surprised if the cage you're building around yourself is locked from the inside.”

With that, she turns on her heel and heads back to the kitchen, leaving you and Caroline in silence.

Slowly, Caroline slides into Leah’s empty seat, her hand still on yours.

“... I always liked your stage name.”

You don’t say anything, instead letting your eyes trail through the patterns on the rug.

She scoots closer. “Leah’s just looking out for you. Like always.”

“I know, Caro.”

You feel her head rest on your shoulder. Tough love has always been Leah’s strong suit; as hard as you are on your boys, it’s bush league compared to your friend.

Caroline’s next words are low, whispered just loud enough for you to hear. “I know that man you were helping.”

You look down at her, dumbfounded. “Really? You know Jake?”

She sits up, eyes wide again. “Well, not technically. I never learned his name. But when he was leaving your apartment, I recognized his face.” Her small smile grows as she speaks. “There were days I’d stay out late after school, and I’d catch a ride from him sometimes. He’s really kind, not like some of the other cab drivers.”

Concern suddenly sweeps across her face. “Is he going to be alright?”

You think back to the morning he left your apartment: his bruises, your stitches, the blood that still stained his coat…

His hand on your hand, your face…

You don’t feel your fingers grazing the apple of your cheek until you hear Caroline giggle. Your hand drops to your lap as your face warms. “He’ll be fine. If he wised up and saw a real doctor, that is.” You shrug, reaching for your coffee.

“You care about him,” she teases.

“Oh, come off it,” you huff, nudging her leg with yours.

“And he obviously cares about you!” She squeals, lowering her voice when Leah turns her head toward the noise. “I saw him leave your apartment, but he stood there for ages, staring at your door.” Her grip on your hand grows unbearably tight. “What happened that night?”

You’ve been asking yourself the same question from the moment he left you standing in a bloodstained gown, your apartment colder without him. Since then, there hasn’t been a moment where you’ve been free from the memory of his face.

“I did him a favor. And… he may have done one for me, too.”

__________

Jake Lockley is man enough to admit when he’s been beaten.

In this case, he's absolutely won over. Head-over-heels, and at your mercy.

Maybe years from now, society adopts stricter rules for how soon you should call on a lady. Even today, some would advise against showing your hand too early. Some men wouldn’t want to seem too eager, too desperate.

But Jake Lockley is not a liar.

If “desperate” is the word for the incessant drumming in his chest each time you come to mind; if it’s what has him cutting corners and driving recklessly, ushering customers along at double the pace so his thoughts can return to you; if it’s why his palms sweat and nerves ache at the memory of your face that night, that morning… then Jake Lockley is desperate.

It’s hardly been a day and a half since he left your apartment, cold and injured. The suit stitched him back together in seconds; the only ache that remained was at the thought of you. You, who scooped him off the pavement and took pity on him. Who stained your hands with his blood to make it stop. You, who set his skin on fire with the smallest touch and had him convinced he would burn with or without it.

Screw the three day rule. He has to see you.

Hot under the collar, Jake now sits at the bar– your bar, long before normal business hours. Next to him is Matt, whose face hasn’t untwisted from the wry grin he’s had from the moment they met up.

“It’s like a jackhammer,” he chuckles into his glass, dodging Jake’s backhand swing.

“Can it, Murdock.” Jake’s hand returns to his own drink. Downing the rest, he raises his glass to the bartender. “Top me off, Mr. Manalo.”

Teddy obliges with shaking hands. He scoops up the bills Jake slides his way before dashing off. The two men had asked for privacy, and he’s determined to stay in their good graces.

Jake knocks back the new drink, swiping the excess from his lip as Matt’s laughter grows louder.

“You really need to calm down.”

“That’s what this was for,” Jake retorts, shaking his glass so the ice clinks against the edge. It’s doing him little good, though; from the moment he snuck in here that stormy night, he knew The Paper Moon as an extension of you. Even with the house lights up and nobody onstage, the lounge makes his heart race as quickly as if you were right beside him.

Matt claps a hand on his shoulder. “You’ll be alright, you’ve been through worse.”

“Yeah,” Jake snorts. Matt’s quiet for a suspicious amount of time. “What’s on your mind, Murdock?”

“What’s on yours?” Telltale concern creeps into his voice. “How are things up there lately?”

Jake smirks, the expression not reaching his eyes. “Oh, you know. Loud… and quiet, in all the wrong ways.”

“Seems quieter than before.”

“Yeah?” Jake cocks an eyebrow. His mind doesn’t feel quieter, not the way it should. Khonshu’s been on his ass more often, doubling down when his thoughts dare to drift to anything besides the mission at hand. The god throwing a tantrum has become one of the few guarantees that remain.

“I mean it,” Matt reassures him. “It’s like night and day from when you returned stateside.” 

Jake stirs the ice in his glass, tempted to hop the counter and refill it himself. It takes everything in him to repress the memory of “before,” to not think of the bloody business in El-Alamein. To forget when the occupancy of his mind dropped from three to two.

“Must be the good old American soil.” His sneer drops as he considers his next words. “... or the fool of a pro bono lawyer I managed to snag.”

“Maybe,” Matt says. “Or it could be the little bird that's caught your ear.”

Before Jake can respond, a pair of footsteps cross onto the stage behind them.

He turns to see you and Mauricio, backs to the house, talking in rushed succession as you survey the stage. You’re in a blouse and trousers, your movements easy and unrehearsed despite the growing exasperation in your voice. 

“Maurie, I don't care how Leo feels the lights bounces off his new mustache wax, unless he can't follow my cues he's staying stage left. And–”

“No days off for you, are there?”

When you turn you see Jake, hat in hand and standing a few steps from the bar, as if he’d walked toward you but stopped halfway up the aisle. You can’t place the look on his face, but you're nevertheless pinned under the gaze of his now-healed eyes shining up at you.

“JAKE!” Mauricio startles you when he shouts, leaping off the stage to clasp hands with the older man.

“Hermano,” Jake chuckles, pulling him into a quick hug before letting go. “¿No te andas metiendo en problemas, eh?” 

“¿Parece que tu eres el que anda causando problemas, ey botero? ¿De dónde salió esa cicatriz?" Mauricio leans in, examining the pale line running through Jake’s eyebrow with awe.     

“Ah, just a scratch.” Jake shrugs as he brushes past him to approach the stage and offers his hand as you step down. You accept, hoping he doesn’t notice the slight tremor in your grasp.

“Leave the man alone, Maurie,” you chide, nodding your thanks and holding back a laugh. As much as Caroline fawns over you, Mauricio seems to do the same to Jake whenever their paths cross. It helps that he plays along.

As the three of you walk back to the bar, you notice Matt dial in to something and smile– far from his normal reaction. 

“I’m afraid I can’t offer you more than another drink, I have an appointment with Matthew this afternoon.” You cross over to your friend, whose smile only grows as you draw closer. But you brush it off, still focused on Jake.

“Actually,” he starts, his hand sliding into his pocket, “I was hoping to cut in on your consult time for a moment. That alright with you, doll?”

Matt clears his throat. “Mauricio, can you take me backstage? I should start unpacking this file.”

The drummer perks up. “Sure! But the band’s getting ready to play some poker… you feel like teaming up again? We can split the pot like usual.”

“Even better,” Matt grins. “Lead on.”

He gathers his portfolio and walking stick to follow. If you didn’t know better, you’d swear you could see a moment of panic flicker across Jake’s face.

It’s replaced in a flash with his usual smirk. “Sure you want to risk your pocket change, Matty?”

“If all my clients paid like you do, I'd be out of a job.” He collects himself and follows Mauricio’s footsteps, turning to Jake and mouthing “jackhammer” with a hand to his chest when he’s behind you.

Their footfalls fade and it’s just the two of you at the bar. You take a seat, drumming your fingers on the surface to soothe your nerves. Jake sits beside you.

“You look better.” You notice the scar Maurie was talking about: his former head wound is free of your haphazard stitches, instead healed into a light dash through his dark brow. “But I told you that would scar.”

He shakes his head, brushing his fingers past the spot. “I kinda like it. Gives me an edge,” he chuckles. Maybe Khonshu hadn’t healed his face the way he normally would as some sort of lesson. Joke’s on him.

“How did… I mean, you look really good, how did you recover so quickly?” Now that you’re closer, you realize there’s no sign he was hurt just two days ago. If not for his scar, you could pass that night off as some sort of dream.

“You told me to see a doctor, didn’t you? Looks like I’ve got the best one around.” 

You eye him, not sure what to think. “... yeah, alright.”

Your fingers drum the bar again. Maybe that night knocked all of Jake’s suave confidence from his head: when he’s not speaking (something you’re still not used to), he looks like a child about to lose his lunch. For all his urgency a few minutes ago, he’s taking his sweet time getting to the point.

Finally he sits up straight and takes something out of his pocket. “Here. For you, morena.”

A small black box slides toward you, stopping at your restless fingers. You raise an eyebrow quizzically, a familiar warmth spreading across your cheeks.

“A present? Didn’t take you for the ‘holly-jolly’ type.” You pick up the box, feeling its velvet casing and fighting back a smile.

“Nah, not really a Christmas guy myself. But I figured you could use a pick-me-up.” Jake crosses one arm along the bar, propping his chin in his other hand as he watches you open the box.

Inside, you see a delicate gold chain with a charm fastened to its middle: a small bird with its wings spread, intricate designs etched into its surface.

“Oh my…” You look back at Jake, who seems to have been holding his breath as you examine your gift. 

Your slowly unfolding smile is all the reward he could ask for, breathless laughter pushed from his chest with relief. “For the songbird,” he casually declares, relief mixing with pride at your reaction.

You take the necklace out and hold it to the light. “It’s beautiful,” you sigh. You undo the clasp and try to put it on yourself, but your fingers can’t seem to make it fasten.

“Allow me,” he says quickly, standing to move behind you and assist.

You feel his hands take over and drop your own in your lap. His knuckles brush the back of your neck and it takes everything in you not to shiver. The smell of smoke and spice dances on your senses, pulled away all too soon when he moves to stand in front of you.

“There,” he breathes, eyes going from the pendant draped below your collar to your eyes. “Looks perfect.”

Your fingers grasp the cool metal as you nod. “Looks perfect.” 

Silence falls again. You’ve come to hate the sound of nothing when you’re with him.

Jake’s the first to break it. He sits back down, his next words like a punch to the gut. “You know, now that I’m not driving Wesley around… I won’t have to take up space at your back table anymore.”

“Oh. No, I suppose not.” You toy with the charm around your neck. “So is this… goodbye?”

“That depends,” he says cautiously.  He turns to you, eyes swimming with the same unfamiliar mix of emotions from before. “Do you want it to be?”

Your fingers leave your neck as you meet his gaze. “Don't say you're going all soft on me, cabbie.”

“What if I was?” He leans forward, and for the first time you don't back away.

“Cards on the table: I haven't stopped thinking about you.”

That makes two of us. You bite your tongue to let him continue.

“Morena… would you ever want to get out of here? Just you and me, call it a truce or a… a date.” A smile plays on his lips before his brow creases. “I won't badger you after today, just… one way or another, put me out of my misery.”

The wings of the charm feel heavier with the weight of his confession. Hand to your heart, you feel the bird again, this time with Leah's warning running through your mind.

“I suppose a truce wouldn't hurt.”

When he smiles, wider than ever, you see the charming gap in his teeth. And you smile, too.  You both laugh, the heated stress in your nerves turning to effervescent relief.

You could spend an hour like this. But when you hear shouts of frustration and a bilingual litany of choice words echo from backstage, you know you have to go put out a different fire.

“I should make sure Matthew isn't in trouble,” you sigh, standing to straighten yourself.

“If I know Matt, he's the one causing the trouble.” Jake stands with you, desperate for this moment not to end but anxious for your next answer. “So when can we–”

“Sunday night,” you cut him off, starting to back away toward the stage. “I'll figure out how to slip away, but meet me under the sign at 9.”

You move to rush toward the stage at another outburst, but Jake's hand catches yours yet again.

“You can't keep doing that,” you groan, yet with a smile still on your lips as he tugs you back toward him.

“You're the boss,” he hums, pressing his lips to the back of your hand– the gesture all too routine, but you're ready to admit you've missed it.

He releases your hand and dons his cap, tipping it to you. You laugh again, a rich and easy sound he'd never tire of hearing. You bow slightly and dash backstage, with Jake's voice calling to you as you leave.

“See you Sunday, Songbird."

__________

“¿No te andas metiendo en problemas, eh?” - Not getting yourself into any problems, eh?

“¿Parece que tu eres el que anda causando problemas, ey botero? ¿De dónde salió esa cicatriz?" - Seems like you’re the one causing troubles, hey cabbie? Where did that scar come from?

note: in-universe Jake is Guatemalan and Mauricio is Cuban; as a non-spanish speaker, please let me know how i can improve in the future!

A/N: i've missed these two!! this chapter was a doozy but i'm so happy to have gotten back on track. i won't say PPP is on hiatus (we never had a promised release schedule) but after i take a wee break from writing, i'm set on finishing my Moon Knight Bingo prompts before 4/30 + starting on my OI fanzine entries (!!! exciting times). but if inspiration strikes before i finish, i certainly won't complain.

ty for reading!!

tag list: @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @mercurysjoy, @importantnightwerewolf, @cupidysm, @queerponcho, @nerdieforpedro, @fandxmslxt69, @shadystarlightgentlemen, @lunar-ghoulie, @casa-boiardi (lmk if you'd like to be added to/removed from this wee tag list)

[eldritch-spouse]

Hello Pinnie! I was wondering what kind of relationships do the Icons have with their head imps?

To be a head imp, one automatically needs to have some level of the demonlord in question's trust. After all, not just anyone alone can ascend to the position. More than skill, they need to get minimally along with their demonlord, or otherwise a few sets of traits that net them that position.

Don't forget that things are always a tad one-sided, naturally. The benefiting party of these unbalanced dynamics is always the Icon.

Vesper and Lacai get along very well. Vesper can confide in Lacai and they manage to keep each other in check several times, because even if it looks like Vesper is the one in greater need of supervision, both have their impulsive weakspots. Although the barrier of royal duty is always present, it can be said they're friends, at the end of the day.

Rinx and Nena are likewise in a pretty decent relationship. Nena is overworked due to Rinx's whims, and he tends to be unintentionally cruel sometimes by not thinking of how much work something will take, but Rinx will spoil her generously when in good moods, and generally, they think somewhat fondly of each other.

Vorticia and Eleri are family. Eleri has been present to co-parent with Vorticia when the biological fathers of her children were consumed. If there's someone Vorticia trusts, it's them. Likewise, although Eleri is not romantically or sexually interested in the Queen, they have built an incredibly strong bond with her and the princes/princesses they raised.

Zizz and Jayde have an easy-going sort of dynamic. Jayde overworks himself mostly out of already being somewhat anxious as a person and because people in Sloth will naturally dump all the work on someone like him. Zizz very openly trusts Jayde and takes the time to demand his head imp get actually necessary rest, because coming across someone minimally bearable to be around frequently while awake is hard for Zizz. Jayde feels he's not treated badly at all, though he'd like it if Zizz didn't leave him hanging sometimes.

Kalymir and Roch... Get along? Kalymir thinks Roch is pathetic and a weirdo, but in a funny way. He likes fucking around with Roch, and that's part of the reason why the imp has lived so far. Roch doesn't really care if he's thrown around, everything in Wrath is warm and he only really has to get to work in certain key moments, because his King would rather settle things with blood then written word/diplomacy. They have a mutuality.

Livius and Flints are also a bit like family, but in a more nuanced way. Flints has been present in Livius' life for a while now, and Livius knows he's an imp that can be trusted with certain truths that not everyone can keep till their grave. Flints also knows how to read and deal with the King in a way most people couldn't get. He's valuable and reliable to Livius. Flints himself also feels a sense of duty towards Livius and will never betray him.

Cero and Rieba have a strained relationship. Rieba is overworked to the bone, and most of her work day is spent in awaiting the moment where Cero will decide to put her in the spotlight or nag at her over something minuscule. He's incapable of telling her that she's his most competent worker, and she's losing hair from stress.

[torturedpoetsflashfest]

FEST RECAP

Thank you all for a wonderful flash fest! 24 fics based on 16 songs with the most popular being "The Prophecy," "Peter," and "But Daddy I Love Him." The Black cousins reign supreme over this album with Regulus (7), Sirius (6), Andromeda (5), Narcissa (5) and Bellatrix (4) being the most popular characters. 9 fics met the challenge of having a word count which ends with 13.

Thank you to all the writers, and maybe we'll see you again for a flash fest for Rep (tv). In the meantime, come hang out in @marauders-taylor-fiending discord server or participate in @thetorturedpoetsfest <3

She's the Albatross (She's Here to Destroy You) by thistlecat (Narcissa centric, 313, T)

Beautiful, poised Narcissa Black Malfoy, so unlike her mad sisters with their insistence on destruction. Song: The Albatross

Did you really beam me up in a cloud of sparkling dust just to send me back where I came from? by @comesitintheclover (Harry-centric, 1013 words, G)

Harry wakes up from a long nightmare where he reckons with the anger of being left in an abusive home and how to feel about all that he's been through now that it's finally over and he's finally safe. Song: Down Bad

If Only by multilingualism (Hermione/Severus, 1013, T)

Severus imagines what could have been.

A greater woman has faith by @sugarsnappeases (Lily/Sybill, 3849, T)

they're exes. they're miserable. things ensue.

Song: The Prophecy

Take the Glory, Give Everything by MidnightStargazer (Narcissa & Regulus, Narcissa & Draco, 743, T)

Regulus dreams of glory, longing to make a name for himself and be remembered. Eighteen years later, Draco does the same. Narcissa knows better. Song: Clara Bow

The Prophecy by eggmett (Regulus/Tom Riddle, 1013, M)

The prophecy—For neither can live while the other survives. The thing that had finally sent Tom over the edge. Confimation that he would fall before he had even finished rising. But the omen sentenced us to death that day too. Tom and I would never be free of each other as long as we’re both alive. We’d never be able to live inside this toxic world we built. It didn’t stop me for yearning for it. I’ll always be desparate for his attention. Desparate for his touch. Song: The Prophecy

Promises, Oceans Deep by @sixlane (Regulus & Sirius, 2357, T)

Regulus lies awake on the night of his 14th birthday, running through the plan over and over in his mind. He’s had years to work it out, make sure it’s perfect, but tonight it becomes real, no room for messing up. If he’s caught, he’s dead. He knows this like he knows his own name. A truth his parents have been telling him since Sirius left. or, Regulus executes his escape to meet his brother, but he must soon face the fact that he's been left behind. When Sirius finally turns up, he's seven years too late. Song: Peter

A Dangerous Man by MidnightStargazer (Lucius/Narcissa, 695, T)

Lucius has blood on his hands and owes his allegiance to Lord Voldemort, but Narcissa doesn't care. Song: I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can)

what if he's written "Mine" on my upper thigh only in my mind? by @thistlecatfics (Sirius/Regulus, 1013, E)

Regulus and Sirius are brothers. Regulus and Sirius are no longer brothers. Or, a culmination of fatal fantasies. Song: Guilty as Sin

Peter by Faelostinwoods (Marlene & Peter, 229, G)

Peter had been angry, angry at his friends who treating him worse as the war got worse, angry at dumbledore for not protecting them, angry at whoever created his story because it was getting worse. He had joined the death eaters, in a desperate attempt to change his outcome. Yet, he didn’t expect it to go this far. Song: Peter

my absence makes headlines by @plecotusauritus (Sirius-centric, 459, G)

the scandal was contained the bullet had just grazed at all cost keep your good name you don't get to tell me you feel bad Song: Who's Afraid of Little Old Me?

Forever Guilty, of Sin by @nena-96 (Hermione/Ron, 2148, M)

Hermione is alone inside the tent, as she tried to read The Tales of Beedle the Bard, but her memories blend in with the guilty fantasy that was being with Ron Weasley. Song: Guilty as Sin

loml by @emlovessid (Regulus/James, 1013, M)

It’s only been a few weeks since he’s been able to put words to it, but the feeling itself has been there from the beginning, from the first twining of hands and hitching of breath as their lips brushed, growing and growing until– “I love you,” James sighs, the words tumbling out as he breathes freely for the first time in weeks. “You might be the love of my life, actually.” Song: loml

So Long, London by @tealeavesandtrash (Sirius/Remus, 1013, T)

The silence hangs heavy, dead air suffocating. The sky outside is covered in grey clouds, casting the kitchen gloomy shadows. The pathetic fallacy is well-suited at least. Sirius’ eyes burn into him, staring him down over a cup of tea. It makes Remus’ skin crawl worse than the half-healed scars that litter his arms and back. He focuses on buttering the dry toast. Three months ago Sirius would have had breakfast ready for him when he came home. Six months ago he was still begging to spend the full moon together. Song: So Long, London

Burn My Life Down by @thecasualauthor (Andromeda/Ted, 637, G)

She sees everything about her life burn to ashes. Song: But Daddy I Love Him

Slow Quicksand, Poisoned Blood by @nodirectionhome-ao3 (James/Lily, 913, T)

After learning of the prophecy that threatens to doom her son, Lily begs the cosmos to spare him from this fate. Song: The Prophecy

I might just love you 'til the end by @ncoincidences (James/Lily, 1013, G)

James and Lily have been together since high school, seven years with each other. Recently, they have been drifting apart... will they make it till the end? Song: imgonnagetyouback

These Fatal Fantasies by MidnightStargazer (Bellatrix/Tom, Bellatrix/Rodolphus, 606, M)

Bellatrix is faithful to her husband. Technically. But her heart belongs to the Dark Lord. Song: Guilty as Sin

Mine Alone to Disgrace by MidnightStargazer (Andromeda/Ted, 474, G)

Andromeda tells her parents she's engaged to Ted Tonks Song: But Daddy I Love Him

I Can Do It With a Broken Heart by MidnightStargazer (Narcissa centric, 770, T)

Narcissa won't let anyone see her cry, even when her heart is breaking. Song: I Can Do It With a Broken Heart

but now we’ll curtail your curiosity (in sweetness) by @chemicalwildflowers (Andromeda & Tonks, Andromeda & Bellatrix, 215, G)

Nymphadora finds an old photo. Andromeda wants to protect her, for just one more day. Song: Robin

The Black Dog by ghstboys (Sirius/Remus, Remus/Tonks, 154, unrated)

Sirius watches Remus and Tonks from the afterlife. Song: The Black Dog

But Daddy I Love Him by @miss-grimwood (Bellatrix/Rodolphus, 146, T)

Bellatrix tries her best to avoid an arranged marriage with Lucius Malfoy in favour of Rodolphus Lestrange. Song: But Daddy I Love Him

said you’d come and get me but you were twenty-five (and the shelf life of those fantasies has expired) by @effiepotterisamilf (Regulus & Sirius, 295, G)

It’s Sirius’ 25th birthday and he’s not coming back for Regulus. Song: Peter

[nodirectionhome-ao3]

Maybe it wasn’t the best idea for me to read your latest chapter of KSFM while on my lunch break at work (earlier this morning at 2:00am, mind you) 😭 but I’ve heard that Angst is the new Fluff so… I’ll let you continue taking me on this emotional rollercoaster. This story is really fascinating and I love the way you write Lily, especially this moment(I hope I don’t spoil this for anyone who hasn’t read it yet):

It was too much to imagine. Too much to bear. He’d wanted her — needed her — and she’d just…slept.

“He stopped wanting to visit,” Arthur went on, “just before his fourth year. He just wanted a break from seeing you that way, I think. -KSFM ch 30

😩 😩 😞 😔 😞 even before this, when Lily told Arthur he’s a guest and when he replied that he enjoys washing the plates the Muggle way, is very kind/sweet. I had a sense that during this mundane task something would be revealed and yup I was correct. Knowing that Harry didn’t want to visit her while she was in a coma is just so painful. You really captured the emotions from both Arthur and Lily in this little scene. It makes me wonder if there’s something that inspired you to have this moment between those two characters.

Plus the little scene where Lily is talking to Neville about wanting to sit down and tell him stories and everything he wanted to know about his parents felt as if you sent a crucio to my heart 🥹🥹 that was so sweet and heartbreaking 💔 i feel as Lily in that moment realized how hurt this boy was at the moment and in a sense sees a bit of her own son in him. Both boys robbed from parents that love them all because of an act of evil, even though Neville grew up better than Harry it doesn’t take away the pain he felt/feels. There’s not many scenes/fics that capture Neville and I’m glad you touched upon this topic. It’s really fitting of Lily’s character, the compassion and understanding is just ❤️

Nena!!!! You absolute ANGEL! Thank you for this!!!

I'm so so happy you enjoyed this chapter! (And that you're enjoying Lily and the fic overall!) Thank you for sharing these thoughts with me!🫶

I'm thrilled that you liked the Arthur scene!! I've actually had it written for so long. I think I originally wrote it for chapter 25? But then ended up delaying it because it didn't feel like it fit there. I've definitely been wanting Lily to bond with Arthur for some time now. It's important to the overall story that she does (for reasons I can't discuss without spoilers so I'll leave it at that 😉). I guess the main inspiration for that conversation though is just that I love Arthur Weasley (SUCH a criminally underrated character in my opinion) and I want to develop his relationship with the Potters.

One of the major themes I think about when writing KSFM is Harry's longing for a father figure. He had Hagrid, early on, and now of course he has Sirius too. (And Sirius, being the amazing godfather that he is, has become the main one.) But I've always seen Arthur as a father figure to Harry too. Harry clearly admires and respects him so much in canon. And, while it's explicitly stated and often clearly shown that Molly loves Harry like she's his own, I've always believed Arthur does too. He certainly isn't as close to Harry as Sirius is, but he's known him longer (in Harry's memory at least) and has more first-hand experience with how Harry was coping with Lily being in a coma. So I feel he has a very interesting perspective to share about the growth that he's witnessed in Harry and the developing bond he's observed between Harry and Lily.

As for Lily, she definitely feels a bit (understandably) lost when it comes to parenting a teenager, so I think she craves parenting mentors and I like that she finds that in both of the Weasley parents! (Although they're certainly not perfect, as nobody is.) As we go forward, I also have plans to develop Lily's backstory more...and, without saying too much right now...you may find that Harry isn't the only person who craves a father figure...

ANYWAY. Sorry. That was such a long, rambling answer to your question😂😂 But the gist of it is that I just love finding ways to further develop the bond between the Potter and Weasley families!

As for your comment about the Neville scene – I'm so happy you like that part! It might have been my favorite scene to write in this :) You've articulated my own thoughts on it so well here!! I definitely agree that Lily sees some of Harry in Neville. (just like she sees herself in Rose in this chapter, but that's another discussion lol). I also think she feels naturally protective of Neville because she knew him as a baby and he's Alice's son...who I've decided was something of a mentor/older sister figure to Lily. (Someone who was like a good older sister...unlike the older sister Lily actually has😬). I'm always interested in the parallels between the Longbottoms and the Potters, and I'm definitely looking forward to bringing Neville into this fic more going forward! He's such a sweetheart and a character who deserves so much better than he's been treated!

Lily's compassion is so important to me! It's so vital to her character and I definitely am trying to show that she has so much love to give. And more people than Harry will benefit immensely from her being alive in this story🫶 (I love the idea of her being a mentor to her students, an Aunt-figure to Neville, and an actual Aunt to Dudley, a sisterly figure to Tonks, and a sort-of-daughter-figure to Arthur & Molly in addition to being Harry's mom and Sirius & Remus's friend.)

Thanks again for your kind words about KSFM and for this lovely, lovely ask!!! (And thanks for reading this whole answer, sorry that it got so long I just LOVE talking about this fic and Lily in general!!!)❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

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[the-anxious-stargazer]

Like Lucky Strike || Sam Carpenter

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Summary: After Y/N asks out Sam on a date, both of them worry about how the night would go. When the night came and the date went on, they felt their worries settle down knowing that they were both comfortable of each other.

Words: 4.4k

Note: i'm happy y'all enjoyed the first part and honestly i never thought of making a part 2 so here you go! i'm sorry if it took too long i was trying so hard to find the motivation to write the date part during a breakup HUHU enjoy more sam fluff bc this woman deserves the fucking world :) also yes quinn never went bad we are healthy so she is not going to avenge her bitchass brother.

[Masterlist] [Part 1]

・ ‥…━━━━━━━━━━♡♡♡━━━━━━━━━━…‥ ・

"Hey Matty, where's a great place to bring a girl you have been crushing on for quite some time now? " Y/N asks her good friend, who paused his typing,

"Wait, you finally asked Sam out?" Matt states his shock.

Y/N had been rambling to her good friend and boss, Matt, about how things had been going between her and Sam. If he were being honest, his friend's been stupidly in love with Sam since the day she shared their conversation one night at the diner. For someone who likes to observe the world around her, Matt was sure she was the most oblivious of how she felt towards a specific woman that works in her favorite diner.

It had been the day after Y/N had walked Sam to her apartment after work and asked her to dinner, and for the past few hours since she got home, she's been overthinking about it. She ends up planning what she'd be wearing for the date and settled wearing something more casual than what she always wore whenever she stopped by the diner. If someone were watching her choosing between the amount of clothes she had picked they'd think that she has lost her mind. Though Y/N had decided on her clothes, the next on her list was the place they'd have dinner at. Like what Sam said last night, she was aiming for a place they can only afford than going to an expensive restaurant and pouring her entire savings into some dish that she's not even sure she'd like. So that's why she seeks someone else's opinion,

"Yes, I did, and I'm panicking because I have no place in mind to take her to!" The woman nervously answers before she sat down on the chair by his table and tapped her feet. It was something she's been doing for the past few hours of contemplating things.

"Well, don't take her anywhere expensive." Her friend emphasizes as he leans back in his chair and crosses his arms.

"I'm aware, dude. I can't spend my entire bank account for a plate of steak that I can do 10x better at home." Y/N jokes when she can't even cook much.

"Then why not cook her something?" Matt playfully suggests, and he sees the cringe on her face before replying, "And attempt to burn my place down again? Gladly! " 

"C'mon, it can't be that bad Y/N." He tries to convince her.

Y/N suddenly recalls the time she tried to make spaghetti and ended up burning the sauce and cooking her noodles mushy. The chaos she omitted that Sunday afternoon caused her fire alarm to go off, and earned numerous knocks on her door after her attempt. Let's just say she never bothered to try cooking anything fresh other than instant noodles and canned food. Even her mother laughed so hard at her story when she was telling it on the phone.

"Did you forget that I almost burned my place down because of tomato sauce, Matthew?" The sarcasm that drips in her voice makes Matt laugh,

"Oh, what about that taco truck you said you've been wanting to try for the past two weeks?" Matt remembers her words. The woman's eyes light up from his suggestion.

Y/N still had been eyeing that taco truck that was a few walks away from her apartment but had always been preoccupied to try.

"Oh my gosh, Matt. You're a fucking genius! " Y/N exclaims before standing up.

"Then I'll let you get off early later." Matt chuckles at his friend before he watches her walk out of his room and go to the lobby to continue her brainstorming. Though she does stop by the door before saying, "Thank you, Matty. You're the best!"

Meanwhile, in the Bailey-Carpenter apartment, Sam had reluctantly asked her young sister what outfit she could wear, and it ended up Mindy, Anika, and Quinn tagging along. Tara was beyond ecstatic to help her big sister with something like this. After almost a year of living in New York, Sam's finally letting herself be open in the dating scene. The other three were beyond surprised to hear that the Samantha Carpenter was going on a date with someone they had never heard of before, but Tara filled them with what she knew. Quinn and Tara rummage into Sam's closet for some clothes qualified enough for her to wear tonight. 

So far, the progress is going very slow.

"Wait so, she's a regular at the diner you work at and defended you from these mean girls that been harassing you? Damn, now I want to meet the woman." Mindy babbles as she sat on Sam's bed and rests one of her arms in-between her girlfriend's thighs.

"And she always walks her home after her shifts. I sometimes catch up to them and that ass of hers is looking mighty fine in those pantsuits." Quinn adds while studying one of Sam's crop top.

"That's so sweet. Sam, she already sounds like a keeper." Anika smiles at the older Carpenter who has been embarrassed the entire time.

"Oh my god you guys, we're not even anything yet." Sam covers her face.

"Not even anything? Sam, she's literally the first person you opened up to with none of our connections. And she waits for you to finish your shift sometimes and walks you home!" Tara points out facts as she turns around to face her sister,

"And— And, she's the first person to ever make you genuinely laugh! I have never heard you laugh since you know who!" Her sister continues.

"Tell me, has she ever done that to anyone else at the diner?" The younger Carpenter continues, and the three wait for her response as she froze.

The coffee breaks she always offered to everyone turned out mostly to be her's except for the times she was off. Y/N does always wait for her to finish her shift but only when she's on the morning shift. On the night shifts, she's more than happy to accompany her before 10 pm to head home and rest. Sam always texted her whenever she got home before going to sleep and it always surprised her when she got a reply so early to bid her to have a good rest. Y/N only offered the walks to her specifically that even Cate and Dolly tease her about it while Dale proudly smiles at his favorite regular. Sam concludes that her sister was right. When she took too long to respond Tara snaps her fingers and scoffs in amusement.

"See? There is something!" The younger Carpenter finishes before she goes back to help Quinn.

"Okay, as much as I want to help Tara prove that she's right, why do you not have anything spicy here Sam? Not even a red dress or a cute skirt?" Quinn interjects and she gives up.

"I mean, tank tops, skinny jeans, and boots are Sam's thing. I don't see a problem with that." Mindy joins in with a shoulder shrug.

"I agree with her on that one." Her girlfriend beams and Mindy kisses her cheek for it.

Sam smiles at their antics before she finally helps find the perfect fit for her. She felt content to be surrounded by people who support her in this new chapter in her life. Part of her still felt incredibly nervous to go out with Y/N who felt the same way as she changed to the outfit she had planned which was a green plaid jacket, white shirt, black jeans, and walking shoes. It felt weird to dress this comfortably just to see Sam. She's at least checked herself in the mirror more times she can count than usual and has contemplated too many times if she should drop the jacket or not. But the weather today seems to tell her that it might rain one way or the other. Y/N just had to be sure that she was prepared for the worst.

When she finally stopped herself from stressing about her fit, she grabbed her stuff and left her apartment to walk her way to Sam's apartment. Even if it was around five blocks away walking felt better than getting a taxi and getting stuck in traffic at this hour. Y/N put on her earphones as she strutted through the New York crowd and minded her business. The people around her moved in routine as some bumped into each other and yelled at the person to watch their way while some people talked loudly on the phone. She was beyond immune to how the people here are the way they are. So as Y/N arrives at the Bailey-Carpenter apartment building, she catches a glimpse of the sisters waiting for her by the stairs and Tara is the first one to notice her arrival. Her eyes couldn't leave Sam's body as she stood next to her sister who sat on the stairs and tapped her shoes nervously. She wore a cropped tank top and blue skinny jeans to match her usual boots that she wore to work. Y/N always liked her wearing tank tops because she gets to see those arms for free.

"Y/N!" Tara jumped from her seat as she ran to hug the woman nearing them. Y/N smiles at the younger Carpenter and hugs her with one hand.

Sam looks up to see both of them and she freezes at the sight of her. Those doe eyes couldn't leave Y/N's figure as she initiated small talk with Tara. Everything else blurred out as she watched the woman smile as she spoke and her voice was inaudible. She thought she looked amazing even in casual wear. It was too weird to see her outside of her work clothes since she's gotten so used to Y/N visiting her right after work. She didn't even realize that they had approached her. Sam couldn't snap out of her trance until someone snapped their fingers in front of her. Tara giggled at her sister's unresponsiveness when Y/N greeted her and dropped her hand that was in front of her sister's face.

"Huh?" Sam uttered as she blinked a few times.

"You good, Sam?" Y/N asks as she tries to hide away her amusement,

"Yeah, y-you look good." She sheepishly replies and smiles back at her before she hears her compliment her back, "I could say the same for you,"

"You ready?" The woman saw her nod before both of them turned to notice Tara grinning at them.

"You better bring her back home before 10 or we will hunt you down, Y/L/N." The younger Carpenter tries to intimidate her with an emphasis on "we" and it makes Y/N laugh at her attempt. The interaction caused Sam to push Y/N's back for them to leave.

"10 o' clock, Y/L/N! Don't forget it! "

"Yes, ma'am!" She turns around and shouts back with a salute.

"Tara get back inside! I'll see you later." Tara shakes her head while giggling before following her order.

Unconsciously, Y/N holds her hand while Sam's free hand covers her face in embarrassment. As much as she loved her sister dearly, Tara was surely doing all she could to humiliate her in front of Y/N. But deep down, she's more than happy that they bonded well. Tara is kind of easy to befriend so Y/N had no worries getting along with the young Carpenter. The woman in question smiles at her as she covers her blushed face and finally takes the lead to walk them to their destination.

"I am so sorry about her." Sam tries to apologize.

"It's nothing, I like seeing you all embarrassed. It's cute." Y/N let her know.

Sam tries to act cool from her words and removes her hand from her face before looking at her to ask, "Stop it! Where are you taking us?"

"Oh, there's this taco truck I've always passed whenever I come back from the diner and have always wanted to try it out. Might as well try there." Y/N informs as they walk past a crowd.

They were a crowd of teenagers and laughing loudly at their shenanigans. Y/N felt Sam stiffen from the crowd so she carefully let go of her hand and slipped it on her back to settle her hand on her waist. This moved their bodies closer and the move made Sam blush again. Part of her wish was that Y/N wouldn't notice it but she was already too late as it made her smirk. Her cautious mind calmed down after.

"Do you want me to move away?" The woman softly questions to her ear. She could've sworn that her voice shifted from sweet to silky.

Situations like this used to make Sam freeze after Woodsboro, but Y/N has unconsciously helped her get through it. She felt incredibly safe with her around. Safety was something she had never felt since moving to New York before all the rumors started.

"N-No, this is fine." Sam stuttered, cursing at herself for doing so.

Y/N just simply smiles before they continue walking close to each other. The warm feeling on her chest continued that she couldn't help herself from smiling. Sam's nervousness was long gone and she felt more comfortable in Y/N's arms. They were able to pass by the diner and wave at the staff and regular customers inside. Behind Y/N's back, Dale had just won the bet he had with both servers who thought she wouldn't have the guts to ask Sam or the other way around. Cate whined in defeat before handing the cook his ten bucks. The smug smile on Dale's face only annoyed Dolly who also gave her ten bucks and continued cleaning the table she had abandoned after seeing the two.

When Y/N notices the familiar deli shop on the other side of the road she smiles knowing that they are near. Her hands loosen from Sam's hips and beams at her,

"What kind of taco do you like?" The woman randomly asks and Sam hums to think about her answer while they wait,

"My dad used to make these fish tacos when we were young and when we had a trip to Mexico I had this amazing one but forgot it," Sam replies.

"What about you?" She voices out her curiosity.

"I've had Al Pastor once and it was good. The one that's been showing up in my timeline lately is Birria tacos and I swear I want to try them so bad." Y/N happily answers.

Sam only giggles at her ramble before they finally arrive at the place and it was kind of crowded. There was quite the line for both the order and waiting and so far the people who were already eating seemed to be having a good time while enjoying the food. The place had slowly upgraded since Y/N had laid eyes on it. At first, it was just a taco truck by an empty parking space, but now there were tables and decorations around their area with lights complimenting the homey vibe of the area. The owner must have gotten a lot of attention to make this place look lively. Sam liked how cozy and warm the area looked as she observed more.

"So, what are we ordering?" Y/N wonders as she looks her way.

She sees the older Carpenter stare at the sign and concentrate on which order should she pick. The way her eyebrows furrowed as she debated between fish and beef made Y/N's heart flutter. Those doe eyes that used to be so mysterious are now mesmerizing to her. She thought she was so adorable that she didn't even realize that she'd been staring for too long.

"I mean, we only have two options. We can order both and just share if you'd like?" Sam concludes her thought process before she turns to see the woman's reaction only to be smiling at her mindlessly.

"Y/N? " She calls for her when she doesn't answer her.

"Hmm? Yeah, that sounds good to me." Y/N blurts out when she pulls away from her thoughts and it's Sam's turn to be amused by her getting distracted.

"What's on your mind?" Sam tries to tease her and it only makes the woman blush.

"I-I, uhm—"

"I'm messing with you, dummy." The teasing she caused had only made Y/N blush even harder as she scratched the back of her head and laughed along with her.

Just the sight of Y/N like this will be stuck at the back of Sam's head for who knows how long.

While waiting in line, the two continued conversing about their day. Y/N excluded the part where she was panicking over where she'd take them to dinner and stressing over her outfit. She found it cute how all the girls came together to help Sam with her outfit even when she only asked for Tara. Her sister has mentioned the three before whenever she hangs out at the diner when she has no classes in the afternoon. So far, Mindy is her favorite from the stories. As they ordered and finished up, it was time to wait in line. Gladly the service was fast since around four people were working inside a food truck to cook and prepare while two worked to clean the tables. When their orders were placed and the food served later, both enjoyed their dinner with laughs and stories. Y/N liked both fish and beef but Sam preferred the fish because it brought some nostalgia for her. The woman didn't mind offering the majority of the fish tacos to her and just smiled when Sam appreciated her for offering them.

"You know… I thought you wouldn't return them." Y/N began while trying to add some salsa verde to her half-eaten taco. The Carpenter girl figured that they were talking about how they felt for each other as she wiped off whatever was on her face after finishing her last taco.

"Well, I've never really had anyone openly be friendly with me and stick around even when I don't show much... interest." Sam answers.

"Stick around huh?" The woman teases with a grin before biting in.

"I mean, who's the one who kept asking for coffee breaks?" Sam watches her stifle her laugh while trying to finish chewing her food and swallow it down before replying to her,

"In my defense, I offer coffee breaks to everyone." Y/N tries to say.

"And yet you still offered it after I declined twice. You were a tad bit persistent on that." All she could do was shake her head.

"What can I say, I liked the whole mystery behind you. Intrigued me a lot and I'm glad I was patient enough to make it this far." Y/N admits, leaning back in her seat to cross her arms with a small smile.

Her eyes follow Sam's every move as she leans close to her and hovers her mouth next to her ear to say, "You have something on your face."

The shortness of the gap between them causes Y/N to sit still while the Carpenter girl wipes away the smudge of salsa verde near the corner of her lips with tissue. Her cheeks light up as they stay close and she stares at Sam's lips which seem to be more irresistible than before. The urge to fight herself back from kissing her was her greatest battle right now because she was almost losing. Sam found amusement in her enthralled state, knowing that this was the same woman who almost swerved smoothly through her guarded walls for the past month. All that natural confidence she carried with ease was nowhere to be found now. Y/N felt her hold her chin before forcing her to move her attention to her face she had a smirk. Her blush only worsened.

"Eyes up here, Cariño." Y/N almost melted on the floor when she heard her speak again.

"T-Thank you." She was able to bring herself to voice her gratitude.

Sam only chuckled at her when she replied before checking her phone to see the time. The woman before her stood up with a sigh and motioned her to follow, "Come on, my sister's going to potentially hunt you down if we don't get back at 10."

"R-Right!" Y/N stutters as she stands up.

The Carpenter girl only smiled at her as she went to cling her right arm around her left arm. Both of them walked by the sidewalk with comfortable silence between them and Sam leaned her head to her shoulder, trusting Y/N fully. She felt a sense of accomplishment for coming this far. All that patience was worth the effort now that she was here with Sam trusting her safety and well-being with her that she could never let herself be like this around anyone else but her family. That warm feeling came back to her chest as they continued to walk and Y/N only smiled at the feel of it.

"Did you enjoy tonight?" Y/N gently asks,

"It was… better than expected. Thank you for tonight." Sam sends her gratitude to her while trying to look up to see her grinning in content.

"You're always welcome, Sam. You deserve it."

Both continued in silence as they walked back to the Carpenter's place. While walking, Y/N felt something land on her face, and she slightly jumped from it. Her head turned left and right to try and figure out what it was before she felt something land again. The woman then looked up to the sky that had the stars hidden, and before they knew it the rain started pouring down at them. Y/N's instinct was to run and look for some cover, but most of them were being occupied by other people. A thought popped into her mind, and she suddenly remembered that she wore her plaid jacket for this exact reason. She then started stripping out of the said jacket and covered Sam's head to keep her dryer.

"You're going to get wet!" Sam scolds her only to be brushed off,

"It's okay, my place is near we can get dry there!" Y/N yells before grabbing her hand to lead them to her apartment.

Both of them ran through the New York rain as it continued to pour harder and they laughed like children playing in the rain. Tara's joking threats were now forgotten and Sam would probably give her a call later to let her know. Y/N could feel her clothes getting wetter in the process but as promised, the buildings that she was all too familiar with walking past whenever she came home came nearer. Sam noted that she lived on a nicer street than she and her sister do, though only a little. When they reached the apartment building, Y/N quickly looked for her keys in the pockets of her jeans and fished them out when she found them. She then unlocks the building door and lets Sam in first before she follows to close the door behind.

"Oh my god, Y/N. You're all soaked up." Sam points out the obvious as she takes off the plaid jacket off her head.

All she heard from her was a laugh before she shakes her head to brush it off.

"At least you're not." The woman beams at her and she thinks she looks like a little kid smiling at her with her hair flat and clothes drenched.

Y/N noted that Lenard, the keeper, would probably kill her for causing a mess on the floor with a puddle slightly forming from the water dripping from them. She'll apologize to him by the morning before she comes to work, probably with a box of his favorite Marlboro to make up to him.

"C'mon, we might get sick if we don't get out of these," Y/N remarked as she started making her way to the elevator.

Luckily enough for them, the elevator was free for them and they both entered the box accompanied by squeaks from their shoes. Y/N pressed the button for her floor and leaned her weight to the railing at the back, Sam following her. The Carpenter girl takes a moment to stare at the woman beside her and notices how her skin glistens from the water and the lighting of the elevator. It was relatively bright, but not bright enough to be blinding. Numerous thoughts came to her mind as she burned her skin with her unwavering eyes that she felt them. Y/N turns to face her and breathed,

"What's on your mind, Sammy?" Something about the way her voice caused the hair on her arms to go up and made her throw all her restraints away.

And hearing that nickname was her breaking point.

"Fuck it," Sam uttered before she grabs Y/N's face and presses her lips onto hers.

Y/N's plaid jacket that she had held has been dropped on the floor and both couldn't be bothered by it. The force Sam had used to press her hard to the wall caught Y/N off guard and the kiss only made her feel like there was a fireworks display in her stomach. She noted how soft her lips were and the desperation in her kiss as they turned their heads in sync. There was a hint of citrus on Sam's lips and she liked the taste of it that they felt irresistible. Hands slowly make their way to Sam's hips before Y/N flips their places with her now pinning the Carpenter girl, barely breaking the kiss.

If only she knew how her knees weakened when she took dominance.

When it seemed like it was taking forever and both women struggled to breathe, they pulled away from each other but not too far away to miss each other's warmth. Sam decided to be the first one to break the silence in the hair,

"I know I was the one who started, but I think… we're going too fast." She addressed as she caught her breath.

Y/N giggles as she looks down to avoid her stare and a shade of pink paints her cheeks, "Yeah, I agree and I don't mind if you want to take things slow."

Sam just smiles at her in content when she looks back to her doe eyes and makes her heart leap at the adoration in Y/N's eyes. She felt too fortunate to have someone as considerate and patient as her. Almost too good to be true. But she reassured herself that Y/N was nothing like Richie. And Sam hoped her heart won't be broken twice with betrayal.

"I'd like that."

・ ‥…━━━━━━━━━━♡♡♡━━━━━━━━━━…‥ ・

THANK YOU FOR READING I'M SORRY IF THIS TOOK LONG <3

[annabtg]

Hello, I hope you’re doing well, if you don’t mind can I ask you two questions for the fanfic end of the year ask game?

14. a fic you didn’t expect to write (any ship that you’ve written about)

15. something you learned this year. (This can be about yourself as a writer or even about the way you build your stories.)

I hope you have an amazing day 😊

Of course I don't mind, my dear Nena, this is exactly why I reblogged this post, so that people would ask questions! 🥰

14. A fic I didn't expect to write: Insolence. Bellatrix torturing Lily. I am usually a fluff queen and I literally have no idea how this happened, but I enjoyed writing it (from a writing standpoint)! Please don't hate me if you read it 😅

15. I learned how to work with a plan to finish a story! It burned me out, that said, and now I feel I don't want to write again for at least another month :p but it helped me finish my longest story to date so it's a useful skill! And it actually wasn't as bad as I feared xD I still enjoyed writing! I guess it was more the piled stress of not having been able to get to that point for months which has affected me. I hope that next time I write a multichapter, I'll be able to draw from this experience to make my progress smoother and push through more easily if the ~vibes are being flaky.

Fanfic end of the year asks here!

[kay-elle-cee]

Last day?!? Oh how time flies! Please don’t mind me being late to this, but it’s better late than never, right?

First I wanted to say, Congratulations on this milestone that you received. It just shows how many hearts you’ve touched across the world with your writing and personality! I’m always happy to read your stories, and of course the angsty ones are my absolute favorite, your writing is very addicting. I hope you know that I appreciate all the effort you put into your stories, and behind the scenes takes on the characters. 

It never ceases to amaze me, with the amount of talent and passion you have when you write your stories. Each story you write is special in its own way, and I’ve already told you which are my favorites, and as always IBFIBG will have a special place in my heart, no matter what. If one day you decide to step away from writing for any reason at all, I hope you know the impact that you have not only on myself but also on each and everyone of your followers/subscribers.

 I hope you continue doing what you love to do. You have probably received many congratulations and hopefully receive many more, I just wanted to share how much I appreciate you not only as an author but as a person as well. I feel as though people seem to forget that behind every name there is a person, and your name will always be special and one that I look forward to seeing each time I go on Tumblr or A03. Your writing is truly captivating and I hope you know that even if you are unhappy with your stories for whatever reason, someone out there is falling in love with the stories you chose to share. 

Now for the asks, both game/TSwift

 Getting to know your fic writer:

#61) Why do you continue writing fics? 

#24) Worst writing advice anyone has given you? 

TSwift Song lyric game:

#31) This is me swallowing my pride (Only if you want to of course, no pressure)

Hopefully you’ve been getting enough rest. If not, feel free to hold off on responding to this until you get some much needed r&r. I’m happy to have read one of your Jilymicro fics while I was scrolling through Tumblr. I hope you never doubt your abilities when it comes to writing, because there are a lot of people who care for you, and love seeing you on their dash, including me of course. I wanted to send this before I head off to work, again congrats, you deserve all the recognition that you deserve and then some.

Nena I'm gonna cry over here, you are so lovely and I hope you know how much I enjoy seeing YOU on my tumblr/discord/ao3. <3333

For someone who's written over 200k words this year, I fear I can't find the right ones to fully respond to all your kindness except thank you, I appreciate you, and thank you again <333333. I'm so happy (and baffled) that people continue to read my little scenarios and feel affected by them. I know I've said I've been a little burnt out lately, but I don't plan on stepping away (in a permanent capacity) any time soon. Just need a little R&R (if I could actually make myself stop and rest, that would be GREAT lol).

I know I've already tagged you in your prompt (here on ao3), so now for your questions!

#61) Why do you continue writing fics?  I enjoy it, and I keep. getting. ideas. 😅 I remember when I was finishing up restless waves rise and fall I was like "oh man I only have like 4 other ideas....what happens if I run out?" and let's just say that is 1000% not a problem anymore. Now my problem is "how can I get through all these ideas before something in RL demands my undivided focus?" which might account for why I've been SO active this year.

I talk about how I work in a creative field, and that's true, but I don't get to create from scratch, and fic scratches that itch. And it's totally at my whim! No client briefs to meet, no writing to rigidly fit what other people expect, just....whatever the fuck I want.

#24) Worst writing advice anyone has given you?  "Write what you know." I think that's fine advice to get your feet wet, but if we all did that, I think ao3 would be boring as hell 😅. That's not to say if it works for you, don't do it—if writing what you know is what works, great! But for me, I had to break out of that mindset to really start writing some of my favorite things.

Thank you again, Nena! I appreciate you so much! <3

[gyuworm]

you were written by Hyunjin. hard-work, passion for art, being just insanely beautiful, talented, such a gentle and always doing your best to make others feel comfortable. Hyunjin wrote someone that could understand him, that could love him beyond his looks, but could share a piece of his mind.

ly lilith, you are amazing💞

nena i already screamed about this to you in dms but omg )): seriously this is the sweetest most lovely thing i’ve ever read. <33

“hyunjin wrote someone that could understand him, that could love him beyond his looks” CAN YOU HEAR ME ABSOLUTELY SOBBING RN 😭😭🫶🏻 i’m on the floor i’m punching the floor i’m sobbing on the floor.

no but fr today has been rough and this has made me feel so much better — i’m going to read this everytime i’m sad HEKSJJSSO THANK U NENA I LOVE YOU

[lesser-mook]

Dianna Soriel is peak “Gundam Girl”

Queen of an entire race of moon people, she can improv the shit out of a speech without being preachy, and none of that Pop Singer shit like Lacus.

She sits proper, full of class, and so much composure. 

She can feign ignorance in one breath, and command the room in a second. And it’s not cringe “girl boss“ energy, she’s a PROFESSIONAL. 

It’s legitimate qualifications, you believe it she’s done this shit for a while as a career and is about it.

300+ Year old Queen that’s not above learning the joy of simply washing clothes lol, and will put a cap in your rump if you start rampaging in a mobile suit in her name.

She’s not having it:

"Do i even remember my parents"

Is something she says towards the end of the series, just before a battle, the finale battle. 

A very odd thing to just drop in the finale, but it’s little nuggets of character like that that puts her up there in the Gundam “character” list, not just the honorary female category, but Gundam characters period.

Now, i’m zero bullshit, the reason why she’s not as marketable among current day audiences as your Lunamaria, or Lacus, Nena, or Sayla. Is mainly exposure and sex appeal, let’s just get that out the way.

Turn A Gundam is underrated, so it goes under the radar (Exposure)

Dianna Soriel is too well written to be classified as a “waifu”, she’s not an infantilized idiot with a fat ass, and she’s not treated as such. (Sex appeal)

Turn A Gundam has it’s moments of fanservice but it’s not My Sus Academia levels of Pedobear- it’s entirely context oriented and it doesn’t dwell on it. It passes, and we move on.

So she’s not a sex symbol in this franchise, and for the most part is not flaunted like a piece of meat, she’s written like a Ghibli Studios character. 

Is that enough reason for her to go unnoticed? 

Unfortunately yes, to an extent. I’m a straight male with working testosterone, i know the game. 

Just look at your top “anime girl” lists and count on five fingers how many of them:

Got that spot because they’re well written vs possessing some blatant form of sex appeal, despite being 2D with eyes the size of a respiratory organ

NOT a Shonen female character

Not from a mainstream anime that everybody rides because it’s mainstream 

Leads their own series

And contributes something legitimate to the situation beside being there or being hot

Cause i guaran-fucking-T you you won’t see Marlene Angel on that list, her anime has fanservice, however the anime itself is like a cult classic type situation.

People in this anime straight have sex, and the narrative function is like Attack on titan, end of the world, creatures run amok.

People are trying to feel alive in the moment because it could be their last time.

That’s the context, it’s called Blue Gender, brutal, fucked up, tragic. I recommend it. 

You’re even less likely to see BALSA Yonsa on that list

And she’s a beast.

Explaining her story would take another post, just go watch her anime:

Moribito: Guardian of the Spirit

So because the anime is underrated and retro, and her sexual market value is not exploited-

No, she’s not going to get her due respect.

If she was treated like Makima is, she would also have stan group on Twitter compiling entire tweets dedicated to pointing out the anime itself featuring frames of her ass, chest, her in lingerie, the whole “woof” meme, lmfao. 

Because we’ve never seen that shit before. Originality. 

Niggas calling her “Mommy” and shit, bruv chiiiill with all that hogwash.

Can’t make this up, her relevance is being a fetish mascot, fabulous.

Writing 101: When your character is as transparent as a Ziploc bag, over compensate with sex, “that’s a neat trick”.

Can see it a mile away. Because at some point, writing wise, most people have done it, it’s definitely tempting, cause humans are sexual. And writing is freedom so you’d think, why not?

However, the measure of a writer’s competence in this context, is choosing not to do that. 

Because giving a character depth takes more work & EFFORT vs letting your fandom project their libido onto the character because you want to misdirect the fact that she’s not much of a character. 

And her popularity is founded on that, longterm, she’ll fade into obscurity when the Makima or Akane Shinjou  is introduced.

Oh? You forgot about that weirdly “foot fetish-y” sexualized teenager that everybody was panting over not long ago? 

Well don’t worry about forgetting she ever existed, cause so did everyone else-

And that’s my point.

Sex appeal by itself isn’t the issue, women are attractive, that’s not a sin. Active sexualization (especially of teenagers, cmon bruv) at the expense of presentation and characterization, is straight narrative laziness.

Laziness and wasted potential is the issue.

So Makima’s biggest contribution to the average normie is being a “Woman in a suit” aesthetic (Which i personally think is under-represented), but in the culture, that’s all the majority care about.

Which is not surprising because a lot of Mangaka’s do not use their work as a proxy to share their storytelling prospects & ideas like competent writers but instead insert their kinks to project onto millions like scumbags.

And it works, because the industry attracts and rewards that energy.

And of course the characters either succeed because the content is good, they're relevant for a few weeks cause they're cute, or get butt fucked in on rule34 for it then they're replaced by the next pinup girl.Trending today, forgotten tomorrow.

Trending today, forgotten tomorrow.

Dianna Soriel does not have this problem, because she’s not written to be an eroticized effigy to pander. She’s not a proxy, she’s a character.

And that’s partly why she’s under the radar for the most part.

 TL;DR Put respect on her name.

[adenei]

Hello, I wanted to ask you about these:

8. Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

9. Which fic was the hardest to write?

I hope you have a great day and hopefully your boredom goes away 😊 (as always I love your work )

Hi Nena! I'm so sorry I forgot to respond to this! My boredom somehow turned into a long to-do list haha.

Thank you for the ask!

8. So I can't share this snippet because it's in tomorrow's update of letters, but I can tell you why I'm proud of it! It's a classic romione interaction and I just love the way it came together. If I remember/have time I will reblog with the snippet after the chapter posts :)

9. I feel like all the fics I've written have had ebbs and flows. Parts that come easily and others I struggle with. But one of the ones that sticks out the most was probably Learning to Love, my Romione Hallmark Christmas story. I was starting to feel a little burnt out and was just trying to churn it out because felt this imaginary status quo- like I needed to produce it, and it felt pretty forced. Now that it's done, I'm happy I wrote it, but it just wasn't a great time in my writing journey.

Thanks again and I hope you have the best day/evening!

[percontaion-points]

VOEN chapter 26

Click here for the rest of the snark & image descriptions

Click here for the rest of the series!

Chapter 26

WHEN NENA, MAMÁ, and Javiera entered the house, Nena’s cousins Didi and Alejandra descended with heated buckets of water from the kitchen in which to bathe.

This is coming from somebody who was born and raised in Arizona… But if it’s hot enough in the afternoon for them to NEED to stop and rest for several hours, then it’s too fucking hot to warrant a heated bath. 

100% written by somebody who never actually lived in Mexico for long. (I saw her author bio; I know she lived all over.) 

…bickering gaily over which of them…

This book trying so fucking hard to make it seem like it was actually written in the 19th century. 

BITCH, WE ALL KNOW THIS BOOK CAME OUT IN 2023. 

“It was good I was not alone,” Nena said. “We were pursued for much of the journey.”

 “By Yanquis? Rinches?” another aunt asked. 

“No,” Nena began slowly, choosing her words carefully. “By strange beasts.”

[...]

“I don’t know what story you’re spinning,” she said. “But there will be no more talk of strange beasts in my house. No more talk of how you rode alone with a peón for days.”

Honestly, she should have said that they were chased by the yanks. At least that would give some sense of the actual danger that they were in. 

Mama scoffs over the entire thing because she has yet to see the horror of those things. 

It required little imagination to know that it was as bad an omen as the appearance of an owl.

Without actually explaining this to non-hispanic readers, you might as well have not written this. 

/I say and then don’t bother to actually explain it, either. Because if the author can’t be assed, why the fuck should I?

 “The way he speaks to her, the way he touches her? It would be better if she had not returned at all.”

JFC lady. 

She stepped into the piercing afternoon heat and raced after Papá.

Chapter 26 summary: Rumours are already starting to go around about Nena’s return with Nestor, and only Nestor. A young unmarried woman coming back with a man? How scandalous! Mama is upset, as you might imagine, and literally nothing in the world could possibly calm her down. She’s even more upset when Nena starts talking about the beasts that followed her and Nestor home. 

After evening prayers that night, Nena meets Nestor away from the houses. He tells her that one young man died from the vampires while they were away, although another survived his attack. Nena tells him that it’s important that everybody understand that they need to put rings of salt around their homes so that the vampires can’t get in. Didi and Javiera are confused that night when Nena puts salt on the windowsill of their bedroom. 

The next afternoon, Papa and Felix return, with some of the others from the area. Nena talks to Beto some, and tells him to go talk to granny and Nestor. 

Nena follows her father and brother into the main house, where Mama has worked herself up into a frenzy over Nena’s return with Nestor. I’m talking that she’s unreasonably angry over the entire thing. Papa turns to go really lay into Nestor, which is obviously upsetting to Nena. Mama has to physically hold her back while she chews her out for her inappropriate behaviour.