#so she has like a rehearsed speech for when they try to turn it into something more/develop feelings/etc

[drurrito]

Night Drive (18+)

Summary: You get a new car

AN: 18+ only y'all--we're gonna pretend that there are plenty of other self-driving cars that aren't t*sla...I hope this makes up for me not putting out another part of AYTO yet! All mistakes are mine.

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Warnings: cursing; reader has a dick; dom//powerbottom!Natasha; sub//top!reader

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You sink lower into your seat as you rev the engine of your new car with the widest grin Natasha can't see. Natasha looks hardly impressed from your view beyond the barely-legal tint of the windows.

You decide to roll down your window and plead your case.

"Hey baby."

Natasha rolls her eyes. You already screw yourself coming right out the gate with pleasantries, Natasha knows you're desperate to get on her good side when you do that.

"So...what do you think?" You vaguely gesture to the rest of the car and Natasha scoffs.

"I think you were a finance bro in your past life," she crosses her arms, and you relent, "probably," you sing as you round the car to lean against the hood. The gun metal gray still holds a shine in the moonlight. This wasn't an impulse purchase, you had been talking about buying a new car for a while now. You would go on little rants about the specs of certain cars whenever you saw them on the road or on TV. It's not like you were waiting when you had the money, being an avenger was a pretty-paying gig. You were just waiting for the right one, at the right time--a method you mastered by the time Natasha came around.

"Wanna go for a joyride?" You offer, already leaning off the hood and spinning the key in your hand.

Natasha wants to keep giving you a hard time, but you look so damn good in front of your sleek, expensive, new backdrop. Your muscles bulge under your fitted black shirt, and you have the cockiest smile on your face, like you knew you were winning this race.

"And if we get pulled over?"

"With SHIELD plates? I'm not worried about it," it almost comes out like it's scripted. You're not above rehearsing a speech for Natasha if it means getting your way. You're pulling out all the stops, but Natasha wants to remind you who's really behind the wheel. Her eyes rake over you slowly, intensely--the same way fresh lava travels over earth. You're standing at attention and you don't even know it.

"You gonna open the door for me or just stand there like you forgot your manners?" Natasha watches in amusement as you fumble for the door handle. She slides onto the cool leather while you make your way into the driver's seat yet again. You wait patiently for her to get comfortable and buckle in.

It's only when you rev the engine with a wink that Natasha muses this might have been a bad idea on her part. You punch the gas pedal and she's quickly acquainted with the back of the cherry red bucket seat.

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

Natasha decides that she doesn't like going fast unless the fate of the world depends on it. She also decides this is the one exception when she sees the freeway system of veins in your forearms as you grip the steering wheel. Natasha feels like she's flying when she watches your triceps flex while you turn the wheel or do something as mundane as turning on her seat heater.

Natasha slides her seatbelt off in a way that doesn't set off the sensor--she didn't want this moment to be ruined by a lecture on why it's important to buckle-up. You're too distracted by the beat of your night drive playlist to notice her crawling closer to you.

You feel her lips on the shell of your ear, "eyes on the road, got it?"

"Yes ma'am," you try to say cooly, you don't dare chance a look over at her. She hums with satisfaction and rewards you with a kiss on the skin behind your ear and a nibble on your lobe that tightens the coil in your belly.

Natasha sucks and licks at your neck while her deft fingers work to undo your belt and zipper. Her hand explores the border of your waistband before dipping under and finding what it was looking for. You let out a whisper of a gasp when Natasha admires your full length and girth. Your grip on the wheel tightens, Natasha chuckles when she hears the leather under your fingers groan.

Natasha begins to stroke you slowly, agonizingly so, but that doesn't keep your hips from bucking up into her hand.

"Tash," that only elicits a rumble against your neck. Natasha's other hand curls around your neck and gives a light squeeze that makes your vision blur for a second. Her stroking picks up speed, you have to work impossibly hard to keep your foot off the brakes.

"Natasha, please."

"I like the way you say please, baby," she mumbles with your skin between her teeth.

"What did I tell you?"

"Eyes on the road, ma'am," you say with a quickness that makes the corner of her lips curl up in satisfaction.

"So smart," she praises before you helplessly watch her head lower until you feel her lips greet your cock with a sloppy kiss. You throw your head back against your seat with a pathetic moan.

"So desperate," Natasha teases, and your mind feels like it's going a million miles an hour--multitasking is usually your strong suit, but it seems damn near impossible now.

Natasha's tongue travels the length of you, your hips feebly buck into her mouth when she finally grants you entrance. You slow your speed to safely take a hand off the wheel and hold her hair back. She thanks you with a gentle squeeze on your thigh and the prettiest sounds you could have only ever imagined.

Your playlist is already repeating itself by the time Natasha comes up for air. She can barely hear it over your panting anyway. You're rock hard and right where she wants you.

"The car can drive itself, you know," you breathe out. Natasha's brow quirks with curiosity.

"Show me," it's a gentle command, but your fingers rush to press the right sequence of buttons. You ease the seat back with haste, and Natasha just lets you sit there for a few beats to take you in and also leave you in suspense.

Your fingers dumbly flex against your legs while you wait for further instruction from Natasha. She doesn't even try to hide her smirk when your eyes begin to dart between the road and her.

"You're not gonna let us crash right, dove?" Natasha's finger traces a feather-light trail down your arm. It's a genuine question, even though she knows you probably did some sizable research on the safety features of the car before you even entertained buying it.

"No ma'am, you're precious cargo," you give an easy smile and that's Natasha's cue to move and straddle your lap. You help her with your hands on her hips, your hands quickly retreating to your sides when she's situated over you.

Natasha swears your eyes are sparkling as you watch her slide her panties to the side with one hand and take your length in the other.

"Eyes on me, baby, just for a second," she coos and you obey. Natasha can't help but admire the striations of your muscles working overtime to restrain yourself. You've always been intoxicatingly obedient, even when it's downright painful. Your eyes are locked on Natasha's, you have to bite your lip to stifle a moan when she finally eases down onto your cock. She's already working her hips in a way that has your entire body buzzing. You can count on one hand how many cars have passed you by this whole time, just like you expected.

Your fingers dig into the leather of your seat, your eyes periodically glancing at the road to make sure it hasn't veered off course for whatever reason. Natasha steals a few sloppy kisses when she leans into you to get a better angle and bounce on your cock at a speed that should be illegal.

"Tash, I'm gonna-," you choke out between labored breaths.

"What was that baby?" she leans back and oh god, you wish you had the kind of self-control your car has right now. You feel like you're going to pass out watching Natasha ride your cock, you're too blissed out to realize that she's spelling out 'm-i-n-e-' with her hips.

"I'm gonna come so fast."

"I know baby."

That seals your fate. Your arm reaches back to brace yourself against the seat. With a long and drawn-out "fuck," Natasha feels you push deeper into her, filling her up with every last drop of you. You both fall into a sweaty, moaning heap against the seat. Your body trembling with aftershocks as Natasha scratches at the skin on the back of your neck. You only get to drink this feeling in for a few seconds until you see red and blue flashing lights in your rearview mirror.

"Shit," you sit up and Natasha freezes when she sees what you see. You feverishly check your speedometer, you're not speeding. You start rifling through your brain to see if you forgot to do something, insurance? Plates? Registration?

Your questions are answered when you watch the cop car speed off into the night. Natasha lets out a heavy sigh of relief that makes your dick twitch, reminding you both that you're still inside of her.

"Told you," you try not to sound so exasperated. Natasha just rolls her eyes before kissing your temple. Night drives might just become a regular thing now.

[tac-the-unseen]

Hey how are you doing 👋🏽

I have a request, can you do a Thomas Hewitt x pregnant reader, just pure fluff

I bet that man would be a good father idk

Thomas Hewitt x pregnant Reader Headcannons

@diablosinners

CW: Pregnancy Difficulties, Child birth, Minor misogyny, extremely minor mention of Abortion (Like it's not said but implied)

Minor Angst and Fluff (It gets better I promise)

•When you found out about your pregnancy the first person you told wasn't Tommy, it was Luda Mae

•You told Luda the news and she was delighted

•You were panicked

•Not only was this your first baby, it was an unplanned one

•Your family has a history of trouble-some pregnancies and with the nearest hospital being hours away, this possibilities really frighten you

•Luda had to calm you down and stop you from almost stress vomiting on yourself

•She sat with you as you sobbed and tried to collect yourself enough to make some kind of plan

•You talked about your options and while she was trying to sway to one way, she said it was ultimately your choice

•You both decided to wait two weeks before telling anybody

•You didn't want to get anyone's hopes up just in case something happened to you or the new-comer growing inside of you

•after the two weeks have passed you waited for Thomas to get done working for the night so you can tell him

•When he walked through the door to see you sitting in a rocking chair he was slightly confused

•Normally you're upstairs or in the kitchen

•He wasn't worried it was simply just out of the ordinary

•You got up and guided him up the stairs and into your shared bedroom

•You sit him down and slowly introduce the topic into the conversation before making your rehearsed announcement

•He was silent for a few seconds, just long enough to let your panic sleep into your bones

•A cool chill runs through you and you begin to back petal

•You tell him how long you knew and all the options you have

•You’re quickly to ramble on about how you don't need to have right this minute and you could wait for later down if that's what Thomas needed

•Thomas listens to your quickly and panicked speech for a little bit before gently grabbing your shoulders and turning you towards him

•He leans over and softly kisses your forehead

•He runs a hand down to your stomach and gently rubs the side

•His one gentle kiss turned into multiple fast pecks all over your face.

•He was excited

•It took him just hours to already make plans for what he wanted to do with his future child

•He was comforting you at every turn and freaked out Everytime you bumped into a countertop or a wall.

•Thomas practically stood over you all day everyday

•He wants to always have you in his sights, for his peace of mind and yours

•He brings you drawings of what crib, rocking chairs, and wood carved mobile he wants to hang over the crib

•He lets you watch and values your opinion over everyone else. When asked by other family members why, Thomas points to you as if to say ‘They’re the pregnant one.’

•When you started to show he would occasionally gently lift your belly to relieve you of the weight the baby puts on your back.

•He never really liked leaving the house and normally left that up to his brothers, but he wanted to help with the baby shopping

•he gently holds out baby blankets he thinks you'll like, but keeps in mind that Luda-Mae has be fiercely crocheting baby blankets and sewing baby clothes

•He actually cries when you hold up the little baby booties and compares them to his huge palm.

•He carries all the bags to your car and lets you drive him home with the yellow booties still in his hands.

•You fought hard to let the other Hewitts know you were giving birth in an actual hospital

•Everytime the birth was brought up it turned into a huge argument. “Every Hewitt was born in this house and they will continue to be born in this house!” Charlie and Monty argued

•You kept bring up your side of the family's history and how you're not willing to die and leave the baby with a house full of psychos no matter how much they tried to deter you

•When you eventually went into labor Luda was quickly to Hussle you and Tommy into the car

•Both of them respected your wishes and understood your concerns and allow you to give birth in the hospital a two hours away

•By the time you got there you were 8 cm dilated and every nurse was scrambling to get you a room and a doctor to deliver your baby safely

•It was bloody, tiring, and the most pain you've ever been in but by the time the baby was out you passed out

•They rushed to stitch you up and stop you from hemorrhaging and had to use their hands to assist you delivering the placenta

•When all's said and done your baby was safely in your arms

•Luda brought a camera to take birthing pictures and Thomas was clutching all the baby blankets

•Thomas was terrified by your body seemingly giving out and when informed you easily could have died, He was relieved he actually listened to you and not his noodle brained brothers

•while it was great to have your baby in your arms, you were in desperate need of sleep, so the baby was pawned off to Luda so she could help Thomas hold his new-born for the first time

•That moment was magical for him, and even though his mind was already made up, he knew he would die for this child if it ever came to that

•Luda left the room briefly to use the bathroom and That left Tommy with the smallest human being he's ever seen wrapped up in the hospital’s white with pink and blue striped blanket.

•The quiet of the room was what made him sob

•His sleeping partner and sleeping child all together as a family was enough to break him

•The car ride home a few days later was also silent

•He sat in the back seat with the baby's car seat watching as the hum and the vibrations of the car lull the child asleep

•He did leave that baby’s side for a second

•He was there when the baby cried, when the baby slept, when the baby needed a diaper change, he was there for every moment

•Until His brothers bitched at him to start working again

•Thomas, while wanting to stay with you and the baby, did understand he was the muscle of the house and he had work to do to maintain it

•He worked as fast as he could so he could be with you two again

•You had secretly been teaching your baby to say Dada because you know how hard Thomas is working and how dedicated he is to his family.

•When the child did say their first words ‘Dada’ Thomas actually ran around the living room as a victory lap.

•All that made better by your Child giggling

•Thomas has made toys out of bones, yes they are properly cleaned, he doesn't want to get his baby sick

•Nobody but You, Thomas, And Luda are allowed to hold the baby, He knows how harsh and clumsy his Brothers are and refuses to let them touch the baby

•Thomas isn't normal one to argue with his family but he made a vow to protect you and his children and by God he will kill Monty if it comes to it

•It really won't, But now Monty and Charlie know his serious

Thanks for reading <3

I wrote this fic with a little angst because I feel like every Leatherface x Reader is pregnancy related. I didn't want to re-write what many before me have written so I added minor Angst to at least make it different/Stand out.

Also I'm just not a huge fan of Pregnancy fics in general. Kinda gives me the ick, but I'm not one to disappoint someone who wanted my take of a fic!

[call-me-maggie13]

Beatrice doubts she’s ever been so nervous. Her head is spinning and she fidgets with the bundle in her hands, brown paper crinkling as she tugs softly on the tiny yellow bow wrapped around it.

She hesitates on the front step, considers tossing the bouquet into the bin closest to her and running the opposite direction. This is possibly the worst decision of her entire life. Completely unprompted. She should’ve consulted Shannon.

"Oh." Ava pauses in the doorway, one foot on the stone steps mere inches away from Beatrice. "Were you…"

Beatrice feels her face burn when Ava’s eyes settle on the red tulips in her arms. Eleven red and a single yellow tulip.

Red tulips. A declaration of love.

"Mama, move it!" Diana pushes through Ava’s legs, stumbling into the daylight like a newborn deer, squinting against the sun until her eyes adjust and she recognizes Beatrice, grinning and leaping into her. "Papa!"

Beatrice can’t look away from Ava, she’s analyzing every micro expression that passes over her face. Ava knows what it means. Perhaps Valentine’s Day isn’t the time for this. Beatrice should’ve waited.

"Papa!" Diana yanks on Beatrice’s coattail, pointing to the brown paper bundle in her arms. "What’s it?"

Beatrice forces herself to thaw, heart pounding against her ribs as she swallows it from the back of her throat.

"It’s a gift. For you and… and your mama." Finally, Ava lifts her eyes, cheeks pink and lips parted. Beatrice fumbles over the flowers, trying to find the yellow tulip to tug free for Diana. But she doesn’t look away from Ava.

Beatrice had really hoped to catch them while Diana was still napping so she would have time to process before attending to the little girl. In fact, she probably had arrived while Diana was napping but she’d spent so long doubting herself that Diana had awoken.

Diana takes her flower from Beatrice, inspects it quietly before extending it for Ava to admire.

Beatrice hadn’t meant to declare her love for Ava in the snowy, winter air. She hadn’t meant for it to be a grand gesture. It was meant for Ava alone. For her and Ava.

She’d had a speech prepared for Ava’s tiny entryway, her stained linoleum tiles, her crayon colored walls.

I’m yours. She had wanted to say. For as long as you’ll have me.

Beatrice offers the remaining bouquet to Ava, extending them for Ava to either accept or deny. Waiting for Ava to either accept her or turn her away.

The next second moves impossibly slow. Ava steps toward the tulips, hand reaching to brush their petals before moving away. Beatrice’s heart falls, sinking deep into her stomach. Ava has been considering the best way to reject her. Beatrice has read too deep into their interactions. She’s misinterpreted and ruined everything and -

Oh.

Ava’s lips are soft and warm against hers, tender and tentative. Beatrice’s mind has barely processed what was happening before Ava is pulling away, apologies clouding the minuscule space between them until Beatrice surges forward and they crash together again.

They haven’t kissed since they returned from Christmas. Beatrice isn’t certain why, not a single moment has passed that she hasn’t thought about kissing Ava. The thought had overtaken her, pulsed deep in her veins until she’d had to pull away, little by little, creating a chasm between them. A chasm flowing with anxiety and worry.

She’s not certain what she’d ever fret over before because this might the only thing Beatrice had ever been certain of in her life.

They’re only pulled apart by a high whine from Diana, a cry of boredom and annoyance. Even then, they linger in each other, noses brushing and breath mixing.

Beatrice still hasn’t found the words she’d rehearsed previously, only four she hadn’t considered tumble past her lips into the shared air betwixt them.

"Will you be mine?" The uncertainty lingers only a moment before Ava pulls away to giggle, nodding rapidly and blushing deeply. She flings her arms around Beatrice’s neck and buries her nose there, effectively knocking the flowers from Beatrice’s hand. Beatrice doesn’t much mind.

"I thought I already was."

Find more here!

[dollypopup]

I just can't stop thinking about Pen and Colin as mirrors.

Of the apology scene. I can't stop thinking about how Colin's so earnest, so different from his persona at the start. How he literally had lines to feed to the debutantes, to repeat, ad nauseam, vamping with each new player to the stage, but but how his conversation with Penelope is from the heart. How he responds to her 'you are embarrassed of me' with 'I am most certainly not ashamed of you' and her 'I am the laughingstock of the ton' with 'you are clever and warm'.

I'm thinking about how his voice speeds up after that to 'and I am proud tocallyoumyverygoodfriend', how it is so clearly genuine, how it makes so much sense that he is nervous, because she means so much to him, because it's not rehearsed: and then how she tells him it frustrates her that he can walk into society with ease. His face when she says that. . .I keep rewatching it. How he looks to the side. How he swallows. How he looks down.

How he could keep eye contact with her the entire time, except when she says that.

And then I contrast that to the scene in the Bridgerton house (which by the way? I'm swooning. He asked her where or what it was that made her feel most comfortable when they were at the market, and she said Sunday Teas at Bridgerton House, and mourned that she couldn't have them anymore. So he invites her there. So he sets up a refreshment table. So e sets the scene for her. It's not Sunday Tea, and it's not as it was, but here: there's a quartet preparing for a Parisian Quadrille, here, there's mamas perched on sofas, gossiping about the decor, here, there's a dance floor. She says she was at ease, indicated she isn't, and so he makes her smile. So he helps her unfurl.) where she tells him that "Deep inside, I know I can be clever and amusing but. . .somehow my character gets lost between my heart and my mouth and I find myself saying the wrong thing, or more likely nothing at all"

And he looks down, again. But this time, he looks right back at her. he connects with her immediately.

Because she's speaking to him. No, not with him, but to him. To his heart. To the insecurities he keeps hidden away. Speaking aloud how he feels. Mr. 'I had to rehearse that speech for hours', Mr. 'Living for the expectations of other people is a trap', Mr. Put on the Facade, Mr. People Pleaser.

And this is his face

It's such a small 'blink and you miss it' moment. It lasts barely half a second. But in that room, in that moment, with her. . . he feels seen. Colin who had to rehearse what he said to Jack, Colin who spent so much of Season 2 talking about his travels and everyone being annoyed at him, Colin who responds to 'Well it sounds remarkable' with 'Yes. . .remarkable. As in, I have many remarks about it'. Colin who knows how it feels to never have the right thing to say. Colin who empathizes. Colin who understands.

Not just understands her, but understands that she understands him, too.

They're mirrors.

Mirrors as in: I see you. I see the heart of you. I see the you that you try to hide, but you cannot hide from me.

Mirrors as in: you are my reflection. You are not me in exactitude, but ever so familiar, reversed. Where Colin is of such importance to the ton on the outside, his thoughts are unimportant. Where Penelope is of such disregard on the outsides, her thoughts run the entirety of the ton.

Mirrors as in: You help me see myself better. You see me kindly, you see me beautifully. Colin who refuses to let Penelope call herself stupid, or a laughingstock. Colin who will not accept her low self-esteem, because he sees her as more. Penelope who then begins to see herself as more, in turn. To recognize that she is more and always has been. If you can see me like this, surely I can too. Penelope who loves Colin's inner thoughts, who asks him for more of them. Who responds to his letters, who enjoys his journals, who sees the him behind a page and behind a falsified smile and says 'I like the real you', and so he can be the real him more and more often. Pen coming to the light externally, and Colin internally. Such ease with each other.

Mirrors as in: I see myself in you. You are familiar. Of the same heart. The same tenderness, us two dreamers with soft, bruised souls, shaped by each other's fingerprints. If I press my hand up to this glass, I can touch you, warm like me. Lonely like me but not lonely when we are together. Better with me like I am better with you.

Mirrors as in: I see myself in you. Tumbling and freewheeling, submerged in you, in your words, in your body, in your life.

I just can't stop thinking of Pen and Colin as mirrors.

[herejusttosufferalong]

I've started and deleted this sentence several times now and don't really know how to begin. So let's just go for it and say seriously WHAT THE FUCK has been the last 6 months!? My mind is a clusterfuck rn. I love L and N but they are seriously debilitating. Like I've been see-sawing between casual nonchalance about everything saying "haha this is great ride, what's next in store?" to just confused exasperation and emotional fatigue. I don't even know these people, and yet I am so fucking invested. This has never happened to me. They are like a drug. Seriously, whatever they are selling, I will buy 10 of everything, pump it into my veins. Why is my kink now seeing them get married, have kids and L be a stay-at-home daddy while N rules the fucking world?! N, alone, has me questioning my sexuality. Then I remember L is there, and I go oh yeah him too. Them is my sexuality. It's so messy. Anyway, now to the point of this. I had some flashbacks while watching L's Loewe Vogue video today. Watching his groomer give him a lovely face and head massage instantly transported me to Ireland with the infamous forehead stroke. Honestly, imo, the biggest turning point of the whole tour. So much happened before this time, but I really do think this moment was critical. I will outline why.

Obviously, Ireland was a massive deal for N. The excitement of getting back home and meeting family and friends, the amazing reception, it was special. She talked ad nauseam about her mum meeting L and honestly all I could think was when has anyone been excited/nervous about their parents meeting just a friend? You feel that certain way because you're wanting approval, you're wanting them to feel the same way you do about that person and welcome them into the family, as it were. I've never felt that way with friends, but I had done with my boyfriend (now husband). But maybe that's just me? L didn't seem as caught up in it, like almost trying to downplay a lot of her ott excitement. I also noticed that they were less touchy feely overall compared to earlier on in the trip, which was so unhinged honestly, I didn't know what to do with myself. But then came the moment. I don't think enough people have broken this moment down. So the interviewer asks the question, that's been asked oh so many times, "was it easier or harder to do the intimacy scenes with a friend?" And N looks at L and thinks to herself, he has a hair out of place on his forehead, I'm going to reach out and stroke his forehead right in the middle of this god damn interview. Not once, but a few times, like her little hand was built to stroke that man's face. Now, tbf, she does ask permission but also tbf her hand is already at his face before he can answer a whispered, guttural, "mhmm". He leans in, we loose L for a bit there, then he comes back saying "ok" like you probably got that hair now, think we should stop now. And her going into 'mother' mode telling him to turn his head, good boy. And his little worried face when it's over. And them talking about how N just can't stop picking hairs off people on set. Mmm ok. If they were in Regency outfits, I would be expecting a mirror scene next up. But you might say to me, well shit like this has happened countless times, it's just another thing. Well, I say no, this time was different. They both knew they had crossed a line, publicly, her initiation, his reaction. Because they were strange as hell at the London premiere. He avoided her gaze. She visibly stopped herself from touching him. One occasion, I saw her reach out to his arm or back, and she looked behind him (I think where their teams were?), and immediately pulled her arm back. The first moment she was asked about people shipping Lukola she had a pre-prepared speech ready to go to explain the head stroke. It was forced. A lot of what she said seemed so rehearsed, and although, I'm certain N does think a lot about what she is going to say in interviews, usually she is very natural about it and let's it flow. That lady was stressed and making a point that L is just a 'bud'. The lady doth protest to much, methinks. She's seen everything we've typed about her and L's behaviour during the tour, so why start over-explaining and defending behaviour now? She was STRESSED. That was the overt, obvious, stop yourself type of behaviour, and yet we still saw SOME of that unconscious stuff seep through, like him searching for her hand, her looking up at him like a God, her stroking his thumb with hers while holding hands (seriously, why was that SO intimate to me?). Point being, you can't fake that stuff, the repression and release. The unconscious behaviour. They knew something was rumbling. Or at least, N did. My opinion is that they have not acted on those rumblings, because if they had, it would be OVER. Electric. Power surge. Goodnight. Pack your bags and goodbye. We might not even exist anymore, tbh. But I shall wait over here and keep eating all the crumbs I can get. (I am sooo sorry about the length of whatever this is, thank you much the same, it was so nice to vent).

OKay but like I kinda fuckin love you anon...

I had the biggest smile on my face reading this.

There is so much to unpack here. We will have to chat sometime.

LOVE x

[jeankirsteinsgrlfrnd]

how about poor reader asking friends for help about how to confess to their crush... only for said crush hearing them "confessing" to their nemesis (all gets fixed later I just want to laugh a bit 🙈) feel free to ignore if it's not something that speaks to you it's ok. hope you find some inspiration soon 🥰

eren jaeger overheard you ‘confessing’ to jean. he wanted to shrivel up and die but most of all, he wanted to beat the shit out of jean. he bursts in, fists clenched and you have to explain to him just what’s going on so he doesn’t kill jean.

armin arlert wants to cry when he hears you telling someone else just how much you liked them. he was sure there was something between you two. he’s confused when you do end up confessing to him, when he realized what was happening, he was flattered you had to rehearse.

mikasa ackerman’s heart crumbles when she hears you. she decides to not say anything about her feelings to you and instead tries to convince herself she doesn’t have any towards you.

jean kirstein is furious, that jaeger has ‘stolen’ something from. ‘out of all people, EREN?’ he yelled. you had to calm him down as eren laughed. jean felt super embarrassed about it, turning bright pink.

sasha braus just kind of thinks ‘oh.’ her heart sinks and she decides to go on with her day, despite how sad she was.

connie springer overhears you confessing to jean. he’s more concerned in your taste of men than he is heartbroken. he lectures you on why he’d be a better match than jean. everytime you try to tell him you like him, he just keeps talking.

reiner braun heard you admiring ymir. he’s so furious, devastated, and alone. he doesn’t understand how ymir gets all of the girls. ymir, of course, doesn’t tell him that he’s the one you actually like. she decides to keep him in the dark until you tell him.

bertholdt hoover isn’t the confrontational type. he lets it be, trusting things will work out when they’re supposed to. he’s baffled when you gave him the same speech you gave another. you tell him you were just practicing and his cheeks flush.

annie leonhardt shrugs her shoulders when she overhears you telling someone the depths of your heart. she gives you the cold shoulder until you muster up the courage to tell her but she doesn’t believe you. you really have to convince her.

ymir doesn’t fret when she hears you confessing your love for reiner. she’s not worried about him; she knows she’ll get you, one way or another. she’s not easily deterred.

historia reiss fights the tears coming to her eyes. she tries so hard to keep being her usual cheerful self but she’s so upset, you take notice. she explains to you and you laugh which causes her to punch you in the arm. then, you tell her the truth.

levi ackerman is going to straight up murder zeke. there’s no if’s, ands or buts. goodbye, zeke.

zeke jaeger knows levi is humanity’s strongest soldier but he’s not the best looking one, so he’s confused. he interrogates you head on about your ‘crush on levi’ and you want to smack him in his face for eavesdropping.

erwin smith feels deeply betrayed overhearing you confess your love to his enemy. somehow, he thinks he deserves this and that he didn’t deserve you. he’s awed when you reveal the truth and he curses himself for being so silly.

click here to read my jean fic, i promise you’ll like it

[marysandbox]

Dress - Taylor Swift x Reader

Summary: The one where "Dress" was written for you. [Requested]

Warnings: (+18), smut (it's flagged and can be skipped), fluff, secret relationship, implicit forms of media homophobia, mentions of past relationships. | Words: 2.724

A/N-> I found this request from last year on my drive, I believe it was a writing challenge. It was my first time writing for Taylor, and since it wasn't the focus of my main blog, I ended up forgetting about this one. Now that I have this secondary blog, I haven't found any reason not to share this little one.

General Masterlist |

-&-

Sighing softly, you let go of her hand.

Taylor remained close to you, however.

"It'll be quick." She assured, forcing a smile. "A few hours, we'll go home, okay?"

It was your turn to smile, your gaze roaming the entire figure in front of you, watching the new dress hug all the right places.

"You look beautiful, dear. Did I mention?" You deflect from her previous sentence, and despite the soft redness in her cheeks, her stare is amused.

"Once or twice."

"Then I need to improve on that number." You spoke, bringing your face closer to her ear. "You're breathtaking, Tay." You whispered, enjoying the way her skin shivered.

But the place was beginning to fill up. The other contestants and performers were arriving incrementally, and even though you were hidden from view by the cameras now, it was still too risky to be so close and so non-platonically in public.

Resisting the urge to kiss her cheek, you pulled away and cleared your throat softly. "After you, Miss Swift."

She rolled her eyes at the formality, a smile playing on her lips.

Taylor left first, or rather, entered, the great hall where the awards ceremony would be taking place this year.

You as an independent artist were going to sit a few tables away from her.

The challenge was to keep your eyes off your girlfriend when she looked so stunning.

The evening passed slowly, most probably because all you could do was watch the concerts and speeches and try to cheer yourself up a bit with the expensive food and bad drink.

Your only wish was to be able to keep your hand intertwined with hers and kiss her, even if only on the cheek, as married men could do around the room.

For your happiness, at least you can look at her. Her album won one of the awards that night.

She came on stage, to wave and to express her thanks, and you can't even control your own expression.

Would the photographers in the room be able to tell that your eyes shine brighter than the lights when you look at her?

Would Taylor be able to see you from that distance?

You know she can. Because she meets your gaze from the stage and smiles in a way that you know is just for you.

And when the night is over, she has autographs to sign, and hands to shake, and you are beginning to regret not drinking when one of the boys in a band tries to get her number from her managers.

–//–

It has been like this for some time.

Maybe days, or months? Sometimes you feel that it has been going on for years. Maybe all your life.

When you didn't know her, what was it like to go to LA?

Not to be around her, visiting galleries and parks in a poor disguise, or rushing out of rehearsals to spend time in her apartment under the sheets.

Soon spring is coming, and you need to get back to England for the awards.

Taylor invites you to accompany her to the Grammys when you're back.

At this point, even with all the precautions, the media recognizes that you two are close.

“Best friends” is written on the cover of gossip magazines. Her marketing team won't let her comment.

You are at her house again, before you travel, and she is wearing a sweatshirt that is yours, that she took from the bags you are not done with.

"I'm going to need that in the London cold, Tay." You mutter as you approach to hand her the drink you said you were going to prepare for you two.

She lifts her gaze from the little notebook, confused for a moment until she recognizes that you were talking about the clothes. Then she just smiles "Buy another, this one is mine until you get back."

You laugh softly, shaking your head as you sit down in the armchair across from her.

There is a forgotten movie on the television, and your cell phone is vibrating with the new appointments on your calendar, but you are looking at the woman in front of you. The blonde strands fall down at the sides of her face, her legs crossed on the bed as she scribbles some things down.

"Is it for Reputation?" You ask about the verses she suddenly, in the middle of the movie session, got the idea to write. She covers the paper immediately with her hand.

"Don't peek!" She warns with an expression of false seriousness, pushing the closed notebook further into her lap, her other hand holding her mug of chocolate.

"Never." You assure. "I can't wait to hear, though."

Her cheeks flush, and she smiles. You won't disturb her in her writing, and you think you can just watch her work and you'll be happy.

–//–

Most of the time, you hate journalists.

That's one of the times.

"We heard that you and Taylor Swift have become very close since the 2014 Grammy party." The man with the mustaches began, and from the tone, you knew it couldn't be a good thing. The dozens of cameras and microphones beside him in the stands kept you from turning your back. "We wanted an opinion, don't you think it's funny that Swift always writes of her relationships and people keep dating her?"

That was so mean. Unnecessarily mean.

You licked your lips, frowning, trying to remain calm.

Even the artist answering questions next to you grimaced, although she didn't stop her own interview to comment.

Your manager always said, "Take a deep breath, don't let it get to you. Everything can get around in a joking tone, so if you want to punch someone, the best alternative is to ironize what was said to you."

"Look buddy, have you met her?" you started in the least angry way you could manage. " Tay is by far, the most incredible, inspiring, hard-working, and intense woman I have ever met. I think everyone who meets her has the same impression, and when you have a chance to be, whether it's a footnote or a song, you take a chance. Because anything is worth it to have a little piece of paradise that is being loved by a woman like her."

The man was embarrassed by his question, and unresponsive. His best was to smile. Some of the others began to comment on the sweetness of your answer, but you were dismissing further questions to get into the event.

Before the party was even over, all the way to another continent, Taylor would be teary-eyed with the cut of this little interview circulating on the internet and on her cell phone screen.

You came back to the United States two weeks after you left.

It was like longing torture, to be honest.

Your cell phone had unread notifications because you were in airplane mode the whole trip.

You called Taylor as soon as you picked up your bags.

"Hey, baby sorry for the delay, I forgot my cell phone was off "You spoke as soon as she answered.

"No worries." She said. "Where are you? The car will be right out."

The Grammys were tonight, but you hadn't even taken off your travel clothes.

"Yeah, I think I'll miss my ride." You say checking your watch. "Can I meet you at the party?"

"Of course, darling." She spoke a moment later, almost hesitantly. You didn't catch why. "I love you, see you later."

"I love you too."

You were late. Very late.

Not only did it take forever to get a cab, but you lost your keys somewhere in your suitcase and it took an hour and a half for a locksmith to service you at that time.

When you finally arrived, through the back because the red carpet was closed, the awards ceremony had already begun.

Your gaze searched among the people immediately, and Taylor was in one of the front seats.

Yours was between the ninth and tenth row. You could barely make out her figure from that distance.

The way you missed her was almost painful.

And the speeches and applause continued, and you were exchanging sweet messages with her across the room.

She didn't win anything that night, a younger girl took many victories.

Everything seemed to happen automatically, until the party and she was close enough for you to hold.

You hugged her tight, fuck the photographers and the rest of the world for a few seconds. She hugged you back just as hard, her hands wrapped around your neck.

One or two people noticed the excitement and one of the managers clarified something about you being traveling, a long time apart.

But you didn't follow this.

You just focused on the bright blue eyes in front of you, without saying anything, and you already knew.

You were talking about going out and missing each other, and it was hard to hear each other in that crowded room, with the music so loud.

So Taylor was leaning into your ear, and it just seemed like friends trying to hear each other better.

"Can we go to my apartment after here, please?" She almost begged, her fingers haunting your wrist a moment before she pulled away, with the most innocent expression in the world.

And you were swallowing dryly, shifting your gaze from her lips to her eyes and forcing a not the least bit affected smile, as if she had just made a comment about the food. 

It was your turn to lean in so, seeming to continue the conversation. "I can't wait to get that dress off you, baby."

She sighed, almost inaudible. But you felt it against your neck, her breath uncompensated.

Then you both were pulling away, and smiling gently, keeping up appearances.

–//– ~smut scene~ –//– 

You let your hands wander down, tongues together sliding against each other, the soft moans being the only sound in the room.

Taylor was pulling you by the tie, stumbling around the apartment to the bedroom, but you two kept stopping all the way. Pressed against each other, breathing together.

"I need this off." You warned breathlessly about her tight clothes, the kisses running down her collarbone as she melted against you.

It seemed to become the most complicated thing to remove when you had her throwing her hips towards you, her body so warm.

So with a frustrated grunt, you grabbed the fabric and ripped it off. She let out a low moan, the cold air against her skin being quickly replaced by the sensation of your hands running over her entire body.

"God, Tay, I missed you so much, baby." You declared kissing your way to her breasts. 

"I missed you too." She returns equally breathless, her eyes closing tightly as she feels your lips around her nipples, stimulating her eagerly.

Her legs are giving out. You can tell, and waste no time in grabbing her by the waist, looking for the first surface you can find.

Your hand pushes some objects out of the way, books, and picture frames. You place her on the top of a cabinet, seated, and her legs encircle your waist as your mouth returns to hers.

Taylor gasps against your lips, kissing you in the same overwhelming intensity, her hips splaying forward, trying to ease the sensation between her legs.

You smile at this, slowing the kiss as you slide your hands down her thighs.

Her panties are ruined. She is dripping, you can feel it through the fabric.

Taylor chokes as she feels your thumb against her clit, and moans hoarsely when you begin to press.

"Is that good, baby?" you tease when she can no longer kiss you back, her hands on your shoulders and her eyes ajar staring at you.

She looks so beautiful. Her darkened eyes, her flushed cheeks, and her lips were puffy from kissing hard.

You smile at her, as your fingers push the fabric of her panties aside and you slip into her without warning, which elicits a moan from both of you.

It is always as amazing as the first time. She is hot and slippery, and you sigh. "Fuck, I need to taste you."

She whimpers and barely has time to complain about the lack of contact when you remove your fingers, because her complaint dies in her throat and turns into a suffering moan when you get on your knees in front of her, and sink your face against her nub without warning.

"Jesus!" She exclaims affected as she feels your tongue, eating her with desire, and all she can do is close her eyes tightly, trying not to cum immediately.

You moan against her pussy, her taste is intoxicating. Your own panties stick to the wave of arousal you feel as you eat her out.

You move your tongue with precision and speed, sinking between her folds, stimulating her as deliciously as possible.

She becomes a mess of whimpers and loud moans, and digs her nails into your scalp hair, forcing your face against her before spilling onto your tongue.

"Fuck." She whimpers excitedly, trying to recover from her orgasm as you drink all her liquids and continue to overstimulate her. "Babe, please."

"Give me one more sweetheart." You ask as you pull away for a moment, moving your fingers to open her more. "I know you can."

She nodded breathlessly, already ready for another one anyway. And you weren't going to stop anytime soon.

– ~end of smut~ –

You sleep until late.

When you awaken, there is a small breakfast tray in the corner of the bed, and a blonde woman in the armchair, a notebook in her hands.

"Are you watching me sleep?" You ask in a husky voice, as you open your eyes. She blushes, shifting her gaze back to the pages, making you smile. "Creepy."

She laughs softly, and one of the sheets she has crumpled into a little ball, she throws at you.

You stretch, sitting up properly. 

"I wrote a song about you." She declares in silence many moments later, when you are already passing jam on your toast.

You raise a brow, a playful smile, "Yeah? Are you going to tell me what it is called?"

She bites back a smile, denying with her head. You give a chuckle. "Not even the album?"

Taylor leaves the notebook on the armchair, and crawls back to the bed, keeping her gaze on you until you are close enough.

"What's the fun in saying, if you can guess?" She whispers against your lips, and you feel the jam drip against your fingers, but you don't even mind, moving forward to capture her lips.

She smiles against your mouth, and you forget about the food, wrap your hands around her face, and kiss her until she is flushed and breathless beneath you.

"Not even a hint?" You try later in a brisk tone. She laughs, shaking her head. "You know what, Tay? It doesn't really matter." You murmur as you lie down next to her, tracing her features with your fingers. She raises her eyebrow in curiosity.

"Why do you say that?"

"Because I'm staying long enough." You reply. "I will stay until all the love songs make you think of me."

She blushes, but has a challenging smile, "You are so cocky."

You laugh, nodding. "All of them. From Taylor Swift 2006 to 1989."

She laughs softly. "You want me to think about you with all of my ex-boyfriend' songs?"

You nod trying not to laugh too. "You'll think about how none of them compared to me."

She giggles, moving closer to kiss you several times on the cheek, over and over again, until you are laughing too.

A long moment after, you calm down, and she has her face resting on your chest, your hands on her waist and hair, and you notice the mood has changed.

You don't push, Tay talks when she wants to. And it doesn't take long for her to kiss your skin and then whisper, "You're going to be my best song."

Smiling weakly, you kissed her forehead. "I just hope to be the happy ones."

Taylor sinks her face against your neck, entwining her legs in yours. "You are."

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

Pretty Pointy Smile FINAL Chapter 5

Summary:  Bucky was born different, and has been judged for it ever since.  His father has had enough and sells him to the circus.  The acceptance and love of his newfound family, and the beautifully fierce ringmaster, help him realize he’s not the monster everyone else made him out to be.

vampire!bucky barnes x curvy!readerThis is set in more of like the 1950-60s/ish time period. Warnings: eventual smut, physical assault, a gun, a lion attack

Previous chapter

“There you are, Bucky,” Y/N called out.

Tomorrow had come too quickly for Bucky.  He had been so excited to get back into doing the act and now he was dreading it.  He’d have to touch her, hold her, feel her against him, act like he was yearning for her when it was definitely not an act.  He had not slept well after his self care yesterday, and was still feeling the shame, sexual frustration and exhaustion.

“Where have you been?  I haven’t seen you since yesterday just before the sides,” she asked as she caught up to him as he entered the big tent for practice.

“Oh, I just uh, wasn’t feeling great…didn’t sleep well,” he said offhandedly, trying to keep walking.

“Oh, well are you sick?  Still need some time to heal?  We can wait–”

“No, no I’m fine.  Let’s do this,” he answered in a short tone.  Y/N looked taken aback but didn’t say anything.

“We’re here!” the carnies called out as they wheeled the large cage out, the red curtain already pulled aside.  

“Okay, well, let’s practice.  I’m sure we’ll be fine but it’s been a while so I just want to make sure we have our blocking still memorized and the timing is still down pat.  Any questions before we start?” Y/N was all business as she got into position.  Everyone shook their heads and she turned around as Bucky got himself inside the cage.

“Ladies and gentlemen!  After a brief escape attempt, we have wrangled our next act back home to us.  I came across him on my travels through Transylvania…” Y/N continued the beginning speech.  Everything went off without a hitch, the carnies doing their part and Bucky acting the part just not as passionately as usual since it was just rehearsal and he didn’t want to strain his voice or body before the show.  When it came time to pounce on Y/N and hold her against him he paused.

Y/N waited with her hand stretched out, an expectant look on her face as she stood with him in the cage.  Her face morphed into one of concern as she took a step forward.  “What’s wrong?” she whispered.  “Did you forget something?”

“No,” Bucky said quickly.  He still didn’t move, his body freezing while his mind was screaming at him to keep going.  The carnies around the cage were shifting their feet, looking back and forth between the two of them confused.  

“Okay, well come on then.  Come get me,” Y/N instructed him, her fingers moving in a come here motion.  

“I…” Bucky was freaking out.  “Um, excuse me,” he said and walked around Y/N and out of the cage, running off towards the personal tents.

“Bucky?” she called out after him.

Bucky was cursing himself as he sped along until he reached his tent.  This was nothing new, they’ve done it plenty of times together before, just because you had a moment of weakness doesn’t mean you can’t keep going business as usual, just be a professional, he thought.  He ran his hands through his hair and jumped when a hand pulled his tent door back suddenly.

“Bucky, what the hell was that?” Y/N scoffed at him, her breath slightly labored like she’d ran after him.  “What’s going on?”

Bucky just blinked at her, his mouth hung open as stared at her.  His hands were wringing themselves together as he kept himself as far away from her as possible in the small tent.

“Buck?” Y/N said softer, her tone nothing but concern.  She slowly took a step towards him, her hands up as if in surrender.  “It’s just me.  You can talk to me.”

“I can’t,” he whispered, his eyes shutting tight as she stepped closer.

“Why not?” she whispered back.  She was close enough to reach a hand out and cup his cheek, her thumb caressing the skin under his eye.

“I can’t…trust myself,” Bucky bit out, keeping his eyes shut and his hands turning into fists at his sides.

“Trust yourself with what?  The act?” 

“You.”

“Me?” Y/N sounded scared.  He didn’t want her to be scared, especially of him.  “You can’t trust yourself with me?  Why?  Did I do something?”

Bucky’s eyes shot open.  “NO!  No, you didn’t do anything,” he quickly corrected.  “It’s me, it’s just me.  I…” he pulled away from her hand on his face and tried to distance himself to the other corner of the tent, steeling himself.  “I saw your sideshow yesterday.”

“O-kay…” Y/N prompted him, her eyes narrowing.

“And I…it, it just um, made me feel, a lot of things and I…” Bucky felt like throwing himself off the nearest tower.  

“It made you feel…excited?” Y/N ventured, a slight smile playing on her lips.

“Yeah, it made me feel excited.  And I have been feeling uh, different with you, for a while.  I did something kind of dumb yesterday and now I’m feeling embarrassed and touching you is turning out to be very hard today because of it–”

“Bucky, you’re rambling,” Y/N laughed as she approached him again.  “You don’t need to be embarrassed.  It’s a little provocative, I get it.  You don’t need to worry about touching me.  We’ve done this multiple times before.”

“I know,” he said defeatedly.  “That was before I–” he stopped himself, a hot blush coloring his cheeks as he looked away again.

“Before you what?” Y/N asked, cornering him in the tent, making it so he didn’t have anywhere to go and would have to physically move her if he tried.  “Did you feel too excited?” her voice dropped, her eyelids half drooped as she moved closer.  Bucky’s eyes widened at her sudden change in demeanor, and he felt himself nodding at her question.  “Did you run off and…take care of yourself?” She asked in a teasing tone.  Bucky gulped loudly and nodded again.  “You were thinking of me?  As you relieved yourself?”  Bucky’s gut dropped as he felt his cock starting springing to life in his pants.  He tried to minutely turn away so she wouldn’t see or feel it but it was too late as her eyes swept over him, an eyebrow upturned when she caught sight of the tent in his pants forming.  “Dirty boy,” she teased, her hand reaching out and touching his arm, her fingers running up to his shoulder then scratching down his chest with her nails.  Bucky’s breath hitched.

“You want me?” Y/N asked as her middle fingernail drug over his nipple.  Bucky’s hips jerked, his hands still at his sides in tight fists, his head dropped down watching her.  His eyebrows were scrunched up in the middle, his bottom lip pulled in by his top teeth, his fangs dangerously poking into the skin.  He nodded his head as he looked at her, his eyes begging her to do more.

“Then come to practice.  And maybe, if you’re really good at your first show back, then you can touch me in all the ways you thought about,” she leaned forward and planted a kiss on his clavicle, then turned and left his tent.  

Bucky was being tortured.  For the next few hours he fought everything in him not to just pick Y/N up and take her back to her tent to have his way with her.  She kept teasing him.  Through practice when he held her to “feed” she pushed her ass further into him and quietly praised him so only he could hear.  The show that night had a great turnout as word spread quickly in the town that the vampire act was back, and without missing a beat while he “fed” from her she gripped the hand around her neck harder then reached around and gripped his thigh with the other.  It nearly made him buckle but he somehow was able to keep himself upright.

After they left the main stage and were getting cleaned up Bucky watched her get changed, openly ogling her.  She was so pretty as she put on a show for him as she washed the blood off, fixing her hair, stripping out of the blood stained clothes into the bustier that showed off more of her tattoos, all while staring him down.  She gave him a wink as she finished and swayed her hips while walking back out to the ring.

Bucky helped backstage until the show was over, then quickly made his way to her tent, trying to not be too obvious to those around him about where he was going as they said hello and congratulated him on a great first show back.  He snuck his way into her tent and sat himself on her bed as he waited.  He felt like a lovesick puppy, waiting for his treat for his good behavior.  She had him fully whipped, wrapped around her fingers, besotted and insanely aroused.

After some time he heard the rustling of footsteps in the grass outside, then Y/N’s hand reached through the tent door and pulled it back, walking in still in her bustier outfit.  She took a look around and on seeing Bucky sat patiently on her bed gave him a lopsided smile.

“Hey you,” she greeted him, slowly walking towards him.

“Hey,” he greeted her back, a small smile plastered on his face.

“You did so good, Bucky,” she praised him as she urged him to sit back further on the bed, then straddled his lap.  Bucky felt the air whoosh from his lungs as she settled over his groin, her hands stroking his face.  “That was probably one of your best performances.  I wonder why?” She teased him as she started littering kisses across his face, featherlight touches on his forehead, his nose, cheeks and the corners of his mouth, hovering over his lips but never quite touching them.  His hands dug into her hips as a way to ground himself.

“Y/N please,” he begged, his lips chasing hers, “I can’t take it anymore.”

“Can’t take what?” Y/N licked the side of his mouth, making him whimper.  

“This is torture,” he mumbled, his hands pushing against her lower back to try to force her to be closer to his face to kiss her.

“Isn’t it fun?” She laughed lightly, her fingers scratching the stubble on his chin then one hand looping around the back of his neck and forcing his head to the side so she could suck on his neck, kissing and licking up his jugular to his earlobe, giving it a nibble and a soft suck.  

The noises falling from Bucky’s mouth were inhuman sounds he didn’t recognize. “Y/N…I’ve never, ooh, I’ve never done this before,” he said quickly while he still had the frame of mind to do so.

“That’s okay, love, I’ll take care of you,” Y/N promised him, her lips coming back to his face.  She finally took hold of his cheeks and kissed him.

Bucky’s body reacted immediately, his kiss desperate and needy, letting out a low groan deep in his throat, his hands suddenly on her ass and pushing her against his crotch.  Y/N’s mouth opened, her tongue poking at his lips until he opened his mouth and she tasted his tongue, his fangs nicking her tongue every once in a while.  She pulled back after a particularly rough nick, touching her tongue with her fingers and seeing blood.

“I’m so sorry,” Bucky panicked at the sight of the blood.

“I’m not,” Y/N moaned, licking the blood off and diving back in for another bruising kiss.  The tangy iron taste made it all the more erotic as their tongues swirled and she sucked and nipped at his lower lip.

Y/N could sense Bucky’s hesitation as his hands twitched on her ass, wanting to touch her more but unsure.  She pulled his hands up toward her chest as she kissed him, placing them over her breasts and urging him to touch.  He pulled away from the kiss and dropped his gaze to her chest as she helped him knead the soft flesh.  She started pulling at the straps behind her to release the bustier she was wearing, and when she freed herself from the confining garment tossed it to the side and let Bucky roam her body.

Bucky stared at her exposed upper body, his fingers tracing the tattoos and his eyes flicking back and forth between her breasts.  He gently massaged them, his thumbs rubbing over her nipples making her arch her back into his hands and lightly gasp.  He brought his head down to kiss her left breast, then stuck his tongue out and swirled it around that nipple.  Y/N’s fingers gripped his shoulders as he licked and sucked at it, his fangs poking her every once in a while, the sharp pains making her dig her fingernails into his skin.  He repeated his actions to her right breast then kissed and licked up her chest and throat.  

Y/N silently pulled at his shirt, helping him rid himself of it then pushing him to lay back on the bed.  She stood from his lap and started stripping the underwear and short bloomers she had on for her costume.  “May I?” she gestured towards his trousers, her fingers looping over the belt.  He nodded quickly.  She undid his belt, unbuttoned the trousers and dipped her fingers below the band of both those and his underwear, pulling them down and off as he quickly kicked off his shoes.  They were finally completely naked and drank up the sight of each other.

Y/N knelt in front of him by the bed, her fingers snaking up his thighs until she reached his cock and gripped him gently.  Bucky moaned as his eyes fluttered shut.  She leaned forward and gave him a small lick at the tip, making his hips jerk and his hands grip the blanket beneath him.  “Sensitive?” she teased him, giving him a broad lick from the base of his shaft up to the tip, then wrapping her lips around the head and giving him a firm suck.  Bucky tensed as he willed himself not to immediately cum on the spot.

“Y-yeah,” he stuttered, leaning up on his elbows to watch her.  “I don’t know if I’ll be able to last, angel face.”  Y/N hummed and smiled at the pet name, still giving his cock firm pumps with one hand and the other scooping his balls into her palm and playing with them.  “Fuck!” he whimpered again, his head falling back.

“You’re so handsome like this, Bucky,” Y/N praised him before sliding him back into her mouth and bobbing her head up and down, taking in as much of him as she could.  Bucky’s hands flew to her head, his fingers tracing down her jaw and feeling himself in her throat as she bobbed.  

“Oh fuck, holy shit!  I’m gonna…gonna…” Bucky could feel himself finishing quickly, trying to not let it be over just yet before he had a chance to be inside of her.  It was just so good he couldn’t stop it.  Y/N felt his balls tightening and quickly popped off his cock, stroking him as he came, the white spurts coating his stomach.  She smirked as she watched him, helping him get it all out before she wiped her hand on the carpet below and joined him on the bed, leaning on her elbow next to him as he calmed down.

She reached over and skimmed his jaw with her fingers.  Bucky smiled at her, licking his lips as he regained his breath.  “Wow,” he said simply, his eyes hooded and his hips shaking a bit.  “But, you didn’t get to…” he looked at her horrified.

“You can help me now, and we’ll see where you’re at then,” Y/N giggled at his concern.  Her hand traveled down her body to her pussy, her fingers dipping between her lower lips.  Bucky watched her, sitting up quickly.  “Give me your hand,” she said as she laid down.  Bucky obeyed and she took his hand to reach it down to where her other hand was.  She maneuvered his fingers to where she wanted them and showed him what to do.

“You got it?” she asked quietly, watching his face for any negative reaction.  

“Yeah, I think so,” Bucky said with a furrowed brow as he focused on the task.  His fingers slowly rubbed her lips and his thumb flicked her clit, making her gasp and arch her back.  “Was that right?”

“Yeesss,” she moaned, “keep doing that.”

Bucky smiled as he gained a bit of confidence and did it again, working her up until she was writhing beside him.  Her body was angled towards him as he rubbed her in all the right places, one hand holding his wrist that was near her pussy and the other wrapped around his neck as he dipped his head to kiss her.  He pushed a finger inside of her and made her keen against him.  He thrusted that finger a few times then added another, making her sputter as she breathed rapidly.  

“Oooohh, just like that!” she said, her voice raising as she bucked her hips into his hand.

“Yeah?  You like that?  I wanna make you feel good, angel face,” Bucky smirked, switching from rubbing her clit to flicking it quickly as his fingers thrusted in and out of her, slightly curling in with each thrust.

“Oh fuck, ugh!” Y/N’s eyes rolled back as she threw her head back, her legs shaking as she convulsed in his hand, liquid spurting from her that he didn’t know what it was but felt himself hardening again as he watched her cum.

“Good girl,” he praised her, slowing the thrusting of his fingers until she calmed down.  He pulled his fingers out and looked at the liquid on them, bringing them up to his mouth and licking them tentatively.  Y/N watched him, fighting back a smile as he tried it, and upon deciding he liked it, put both fingers in his mouth and sucked them clean.

“God, Buck, you’re a fast learner,” she groaned, her eyes closing and a goofy smile on her face.  She looked down at him and saw his cock throbbing.  “I want you in me, do you wanna try?” she asked, looking up at him.

His eyes fluttered closed again, “Fuck yes.”  He quickly climbed on top of her, settling between her legs and hovering his body over hers.  His eyes raked over her naked form as his hands traveled from her ankles up to her hips.  “Do you have, um, something to uh, cover up?” he asked suddenly, looking unsure.

“Yeah, in the top drawer of the vanity, in the wooden box,” she instructed.

Bucky jumped off the bed to the vanity, pulling out the box and returning back to Y/N on the bed.  She giggled at his excitement and took the box from him, opening it and pulling out contraception she’d stocked up on just in case.  His eyes bulged at the amount she had in there but pretended like he didn’t see it.  She quickly unraveled it and slipped it on him, making him groan as she gave him a few pumps with her hand, then pulled him close.

“Just take your time, Buck.  I’ll be okay.  You got me all ready, just slide nice and easy,” she told him as he gripped his cock and nudged the tip towards her entrance.  “That’s right, rub it all over, you got me so wet, love.”  Bucky slowly pushed the head of his cock into her, the stretch making them both groan lowly, then he pushed further little by little, always making sure she was comfortable while also trying not to blow immediately.  It felt like her pussy was suffocating him in the most delicious way.  He finally bottomed out, panting as he tried to breath through it so he could make it last for both of them.

“Bucky…oh you feel so good,” Y/N sighed, her hands running up and down his arms as her legs hooked themselves behind his back.

“Don’t–ugh, don’t move, don’t move,” he begged, his head falling into the crook of her neck.  “I…fucking hell angel, so tight,” he gritted his teeth.  After a few moments he experimentally pulled back and thrusted in, making Y/N whimper.  “Shit, you feel so good.  Feel like heaven.  You’re so good to me,” Bucky rambled on as he looked down and watched her take him in then leave a creamy mess as he pulled back.  The sight had him groaning again.

“My love…” she whispered, her hands now running through his hair and scratching his scalp.  “Please, go harder, faster.  I can take it.”

“I’ll try,” Bucky said, gritting his teeth again as he planted his hands on either side of her head.  He pulled back sharply then rutted into her harder.  It made her whimper louder against him.  He watched her face as he did it again, then again.  As he got the hang of it and started a rhythm she pulled him in by his ass with her ankles behind him, giving the signal she wanted more.  “Okay, angel, you got it,” he chuckled darkly, then held her head by the back of her neck with his left hand and intertwined his right with her left hand.  He set a brutal pace, fucking her harder and faster.  Y/N arched her back, her voice raspy with a steady stream of guttural “uh, uh, uh” falling from her lips.  She reached down between their bodies and started rubbing at herself.

“Oh shit, you close?  Yeah?  God, you’re so beautiful,” Bucky moaned, his eyes watching her every move.

“Bucky…yes, Buck…love…AH!” Y/N cried as her orgasm hit her suddenly.  Her legs tightened around his back as her hands latched to the back of his neck and pulled at his hair.

“I’m gonna…squeezing me so hard…FUCK!” Bucky came just after her, his hips jutting forward as he caught himself on his elbows before falling on top of her.  He nuzzled the crook of her neck again as he gasped for air.  Y/N’s hands softly scratched up and down his back as they lay together.  She turned her head and kissed the side of his face.

“You are so good, Bucky.  That was so good.  Took such good care of me.  My dirty boy.  So big…” she continuously praised him, making him rut against her.  He smiled against her neck, his fangs grazing against her skin and making her shiver.

“That was all you, angel face.  Good god…” he tapered off, still trying to catch his breath.

“Was that really your first time?  You’re a natural,” Y/N complimented him as her hands scratched up his back and into his hair.

“Ha, I’m just happy I was able to not lose it immediately,” he chuckled.  Y/N laughed with him as they snuggled.  Bucky felt himself softening and slowly pulled himself out of her, making them both groan quietly at the loss.  “What now?” he asked, slightly fearful of this being the end.

“What do you want to happen now?” Y/N rallied back.

“Well, I’d like to make you mine, for as long as you’ll have me,” Bucky answered honestly, his arms tightening around her.  He looked at her to gauge her reaction, his eyes pleading.  Y/N stared back at him with a small smile on her face.

“I’m all yours, lover boy.  And you’re all mine.  I don’t share,” Y/N smiled wide but there was a clear threat in her eyes with no room for argument.

“Yes ma’am,” Bucky agreed quickly as he flashed a fangy grin.

***

“...I came upon him on my travels through Transylvania…”

Bucky cracked his knuckles as he waited inside the cage, stretching out his neck before he banged his fists against the bars and growled loudly.  This was their last show before a well-needed break was coming up for the circus since the summer was ending and the school year beginning soon.  They would lose a lot of their crowds and so usually took a month or two off before going to warmer parts of the country to keep performing in the autumn and winter months.  As much as he loved doing the show, Bucky was excited for some time alone with Y/N to relax and make love as much as possible.  

The screams and shouts invigorated him as he roared and gnashed his teeth at the crowd.  Y/N joined him in the cage.  He held her firmly against him as he “fed” from her, his hand tightening on her throat, a promise for later that night.  She ran from the cage and locked him in.  “Azrael!” Y/N yelled, reaching her hands out to hold his face.  Bucky froze, eyes wide, blood dripping from his face, his grip softening on her throat.  “Until next time, my love,” Y/N said forlornly, and this time, planted a long, passionate kiss on his bloodied mouth.  It caught him by surprise.  They’d never done this in rehearsal before.  He let himself get lost in it for a moment before she pulled away then pushed him harshly through the bars, making him fall back and look at her in shock.  She winked at him, a reminder to stay in character, and ever the performer she was then twirled around to the audience, threw her hands high in victory and smiled a bloody grin as they applauded her survival of the beast.  Bucky quickly roared again, punching the cage floor.  As they wheeled him away he smiled a creepy, bloody-fang-dripping smile.  God I love this job.

**picture is from Pinterest, it's AI so "artist" or "creator" is unknown**

I hope you all liked this one! It was a fun idea. Let me know if you have any requests or ideas that you'd like to see.

[bestworstcase]

I am vexed bestworstcase, vexed! I am trying to write dialogue/interactions between Salem and Oscar and struggling with their characterizations. I keep turning the interrogation/false-start reunion scene in the whale over and over again in my mind. What would it look like for Oscar and Salem to be forced to talk to and interact with each other on more even ground or working towards a truce? (With a big ol Oz shaped elephant in the room.) I want to get across Oscar as an active participant with autonomy and not flatten him, while also reckoning with Salem’s complex headspace around this whole shitshow. Do you have an idea of how you’d approach writing that dynamic? Any advice on how to make such a dynamic hold true to their characters while being an interesting exploration of their relationship? [What fucking happens if they’re kind to each other when they’re both expecting cruelty???] Genuinely interested in your thoughts on this considering the show itself will inevitable have to revisit this dynamic at its climax and conclusion

basics first. my general read on salem is that she has a solid grasp of what makes people tick but struggles to articulate her thoughts clearly, and this has cascading impacts on her speech: if she isn’t delivering planned and rehearsed remarks, she seems to either circumlocute (in ways that are, textually, confusing: “what are you saying” + her inner circle’s wildly different interpretations of what she means) or just say nothing at all.

i think this reading explains salem’s manner of speech far better than the pure ‘manipulative, lying puppetmaster’ angle a lot of the fandom ascribes to her, because there are these incidents—like the interrogation scene—where salem is being manipulative and her tactics are very cunning but undermined by her erratic or flat affect and unclear speech; if she were a masterful manipulator being cryptic on purpose for the sake of deception, she would be able to turn that off and speak plainly in situations where being cryptic is counterproductive to her purpose. but it really doesn’t seem like she can do that.

complicating all this is that 1. i think salem is aware that she’s Not Good at conversation, and 2. she wants to be understood. her constant seething about ozma’s lies is partly from the traumatic betrayal of her trust and also partly because he’s spent the intervening centuries poisoning the well against her to ensure that anyone who meets her will have the preconceived notion that she’s an unfeeling, unreasonable, inhuman monster. so there’s a degree of self-protection in her silence and her aversion to talking about herself, i think—if ozma couldn’t give her the benefit of the doubt, why would she expect better from anyone else?

with oscar specifically—i’m assuming a post-v8/9 context—there’s also the complication of salem having. tortured him. the last time they spoke which i feel is almost a bigger goliath in the room than oz is, because salem is actually pretty on the ball with separating oscar from her feelings about ozma. but the torture is very personal and very fraught for both of them; do you acknowledge it? apologize? ask for an apology? if oscar doesn’t bring it up, should she? is salem doesn’t acknowledge what she did, how does oscar navigate whatever feelings he might have about that or assumptions he might make as to why (is she pretending it never happened? does she think it doesn’t matter? will she get angry if he brings it up? the last time he tried to reason with someone ironwood shot him off a ledge)? it’s delicate.

some uh, general things that i try to hold in mind when i write dialogue for salem:

what is she thinking and not saying?

why isn’t she saying it? is she afraid of not being understood or is she not able to see the gaps or is she not sure how to put it into words?

what does she mean?

is this something she planned out in advance (or something she talks about often enough to have a sort of script in her mind), or is she speaking off the cuff?

when in doubt, she should probably say less

remember that her affect gets erratic and weird when she’s really uncertain

does she have people on her side whom she can kind of rely on to fill in the gaps (eg, summer) or is she on her own?

her soliloquies are eloquent, even poetic; her speech tends to be simpler. she rarely uses metaphors in conversation.

she tends to answer questions by giving examples that imply her intended meaning, and i am… not sure she realizes that she’s doing it. (cinder in v5 is a good example: salem says “never underestimate the usefulness of others; take leonardo, he was one of ozpin’s most trusted, and now…” when what she means is she’s hoping she can turn ruby against oz later)

when she isn’t sure how to respond she sort of stares blankly into the middle distance for a second or two. (she does it with cinder in v5 and oscar in v8)

oscar is similar in a way because i think he spends a lot of time in his head and it’s rare for him to get to a point of emotional enough to let out… any of the deep existential fear he’s living in, and i get the sense that he’s very conscious of what he says—which can come out in awkward stammering but also in a very deliberate cadence when he’s feeling more confident or determined or too focused on what he’s trying to express to feel self-conscious about it. but at the same time he’s easier because he doesn’t have, gestures at salem and her labyrinth of emotional armor, all of that. and wasn’t alone for millions of years.

with the specific context of olive branches and peace talks i think—esp at first—salem’s liable to be pretty tangibly awkward? because being asked questions and engaged with like a Person instead of a Fairytale Witch runs so counter to her expectations for how people will treat her. kind of a rattling experience, and nerve-wracking.

rewatching scenes is always useful. i try to take note of like body language and cadence ’cause achieving dialogue that feels in character is as much about how the character talks as what sort of things they say. and also thinking about character goals and emotionality—what are they trying to get from this interaction, how do their feelings influence their speech, do they succeed or fail and why?—is helpful too. what motivates the words they say? what motivates the thoughts they keep to themselves?

[milfthrawnuorodo]

Safe in my Arms (Ascendancy!Thrawn x Reader)

Pairing: Ascendancy!Thrawn x Female Chiss Reader 

Summary: Csaplar, the capital city of Csilla, has been attacked by alien warships. You are a Syndic of the Mith family, forced to seek shelter from the attack along with the rest of the Syndicure. Thrawn, senior captain of the Chiss Expansionary Defence Fleet, is able to easily defeat the enemy targets, but finds himself struggling with something new: the sudden feelings of concern and panic at the thought of you in danger. These feelings are a first for Thrawn, always so confident in battle, seldom so confident when it comes to his feelings for his lover. When you two are reunited, Thrawn is forced to confront his feelings head on. His relief at seeing you alive and well quickly turns into something almost animalistic, and passion ensues, followed by the dawn of a crucial revelation. 

Warnings: Sliiiight angst, but I promise it all works out. SMUT!!! Oral (female receiving), P in V, feral Thrawn is it’s own warning, fucking on a countertop (will I ever let him fuck in the comfort of a bed??? Only time will tell). And watch out because this ending is FLUFF CITY. Like Goddamn call this bitch cotton candy the way it makes me so wet and then absolutely MELTS me. (too much?? Yeah, probably). 

A/N: So the original idea for this came from my head canon’s with my Chiss Syndic OC, Theta, which can be found here. I did originally post this as a Thrawn x Theta, but I know how beloved a solid Thrawn x Reader fic is, so here’s the compromise. Sigh,this fic is so self indulgent it should be a crime. But I hope you enjoy it!

This fic is spicyyyyy so 18+ only, minors do not interact. 

_______________________

The aroma of fresh caccoleaf was the only thing getting you through this never ending meeting. You gingerly took a sip, cherishing the slightly sweet flavor as you forced yourself to focus on the argument at hand. The Syndicure was in full session, meaning your days had been consumed by meetings just like this, speakers for various families vying for exchanges and favors to bolster their own needs above others. 

“What we are proposing would completely revitalize this meager farm area and turn it into a beacon of prosperity, attracting people from all around the Ascendancy, which could boost the local economy and present other long-lasting positive impacts. If you’ll look at the document that has been shared with each of your questises–”

The Ufsa speaker hadn’t even finished his obviously well-rehearsed speech before a representative from the Chaf family made her own grievances known. “That land rightfully belongs to the Chaf family,” she butted in emphatically. “You’ll have to pry that land straight from our hands.”

It took all your years of experience to contain your eye roll. You were proud of your position, honored by your duty to both your family and the Ascendancy, and, yes, you lived to serve your people in any way possible. But you also had a tendency to get frustrated at how selfish and self-serving members of the Aristocra could be. Your whole mission as one of the few female members of the Syndicure was to inspire unity amongst the families and encourage compromise and support over supporting self-serving needs. Though, with so many of the Aristocra being dead set in their old-fashioned ways, you more often than not felt like you were fighting an uphill battle. 

You took a deep breath to steady yourself, preparing to interrupt the argument which was clearly not making any headway, when a resounding alarm began to blare throughout the meeting room. The room was silent for a single heartbeat, before the Syndicure erupted into noise and chaos, each person trying to speak over the other to figure out what was going on. A voice projected over the loudspeaker.

“This is an emergency. Please remain calm and make your way to the shelters beneath the Cupola. I repeat, this is an emergency. Please remain calm and make your way to the shelters beneath the Cupola ”

The announcement hadn’t even finished before people were scrambling towards the doors and filing down the hallway towards the emergency exits that would take them to the shelters. You stood from your seat, making sure to grab the questis from the table before turning to navigate the throngs of people. A quick scan of the room told you that a majority of the Aristocra were well and able to take care of themselves. However, your eyes landed on a lone straggler, an elder from the Irizi family, struggling to make haste towards the exit, having long been forgotten by members of his own family in their own rush towards safety. Without hesitation, you crossed the short distance between you and loop your arm in his, wordlessly offering him your support. A look of surprise flitted across the man’s face, but was quickly replaced by a nod of respect and gratitude before leaning on your for support as you both made your way to the exit. This image, two rival families coming together to support each other in a time of crisis, this was what being a member of the Chiss Ascendancy was about: above family ranks, above political rivalries, above all else, you were all Chiss.

Joining the rest of the speakers, syndics, and various members of the aristocra in the shelters, you found an empty seat, getting a moment to collect your bearings for the first time. You spare a look down at your questis as a barrage of notifications lit up the screen. You could hardly process the words, having to reread the same sentence multiple times. 

Csaplar, capital of Csilla, is under attack by alien ships. Seek shelter immediately. 

You couldn’t remember the last time someone had dared attack the Ascendancy. It certainly hadn’t been in your lifetime, and from the looks of the faces around the shelter, you decided it most certainly hadn’t taken place in the lifetimes of even the eldest members of the Syndicure. You furiously refreshed your notifications, hoping for another update, but there was none to be found. With a worried sigh, you crossed one leg over the other in an attempt to get comfortable. “Stars only know how long we’ll be stuck down here,” you thought to yourself.

“Alien warships,” a nearby Syndic scoffed. “And they have the audacity to attack us?” His voice increased in pitch to emphasize his incredulity. 

“I’m sure the expansionary defense fleet has already lasered them to stardust by now,” another Syndic reassured. 

The words settled like a lead weight in your stomach. Thrawn. The adrenaline, which had just begun to wear off, peaked again and you worked to control your breathing. He was supposed to be coming back from his mission today. You had just spoken over holovid the night before once Thrawn had retired to his quarters, and you had been looking forward to having him planetside with you. Now, with this latest attack, if he was in the middle of it…your thoughts trailed off into the unknown. You knew it wouldn’t do any good to panic now, but the thought of Thrawn being up there, facing off against three enemy warships was enough to get your heart racing all the same. 

_______________________

Thrawn stood on the bridge, staring out the viewport at the sight before him. The alien warships were gone, blasted into rubble too small to even make a dent through the atmosphere. Always the calculated and stoic Senior Captain, Thrawn had kept a level head throughout the unexpected ordeal. The Springhawk was returning home from its mission, coming out of hyperspace just outside Csilla’s gravity well, when the foreign ships began firing on the planet’s capital city. It took less than a minute for the Chiss ships to return fire, and within fifteen minutes the battle was over. Thrawn stood motionless, staring into the empty space where the ships once stood, a sudden anxiety settling into his bones. His chest felt tight and your name fell off his lips in a silent plea. He knew you were there, in the capital. He knew the aliens had to be targeting the capital city–it was the most logical conclusion. Unfortunately, it was also the conclusion that sent an unfamiliar wave of panic through Thrawn. He forced himself to take exactly one deep breath, steeling himself, and forcing his feet to take him back to the Captain’s chair. “Continue course to Csaplar,” Thrawn announced, thankful to hear that his voice didn’t betray an ounce of the worry that plagued him. “The likeliest conclusion is that you are fine,” he thought to himself in an attempt to regain his internal control. You have to be fine. 

_______________________

The defense force had you waiting two hours in the shelters, to be sure that no further threats arose. Two hours you spent sick with worry about what was going on in the skies above. You fully believed that Thrawn was the most intelligent man you’d ever met, and the Ascendancy as a whole was far safer for his role in the expansionary defense fleet. But that didn’t mean you never worried about him every time you knew he was going into a dangerous situation. More than anything, it was the not knowing that was tearing you up the most. You tried to distract yourself with your colleagues, who, in typical syndicure fashion, all seemed to be trying to one-up each other in outrage, as if they were personally defending the ascendancy’s honor. If there was one thing that could bring together the Aristocra, it was a common enemy. 

Shortly past the second hour mark, you got the all-clear to evacuate the shelter. There would be a briefing with General Ba’kif in one of the meeting halls, and it was clear the Syndicure would be out for blood, demanding answers that may not even be available yet. As the sea of individuals rushed to assault the general with their questions, you strode right past the door of the meeting room, instead heading straight for your office. You had just shut the door behind you when you realized you weren't alone.

Thrawn stood in the middle of your office, and the familiar sight of him in the black uniform was nearly enough to bring tears of relief to your eyes. 

At the first sight of you, relief flooded Thrawn’s body and for the first time in over two hours, he felt as though he could breathe again. It took all of two strides for Thrawn to close the distance between you, his strong arms taking you into his grip, pulling you to his chest. You gripped him just as hard, breathing in the familiar scent.

You stood like that, embracing each other for several heartbeats. “I’m relieved to see you unharmed,” Thrawn’s soft voice broke the silence. You tilted your head back, looking into the eyes of your beloved. “Thrawn,” you started, but your voice broke, the reality of the situation finally sinking in. You forced a deep breath before continuing. “What happened?” With a final press of his lips against the top of your head, Thrawn stepped back and motioned for you to take a seat as he began to recount everything they had found out over the last few hours. 

_______________________

That night, You rinsed off the last of the dinnerware, passing the dripping plate to Thrawn, who methodically dried it off and set it amongst its freshly clean counterparts. The dinner had been a simple affair, but you cherished these nights the most. They were too few and far between. Though, you supposed you were somewhat in luck–the estimated repairs for the Springhawk were to take between four and six weeks, and you’d soak up every ounce of time together you could get. 

Thrawn had been unusually quiet tonight though, and you watched as he gripped the edge of the countertop, clearly lost in thought. Thrawn’s focus shifted as a pair of soft arms wound their way around his midsection. “Tell me what’s bothering you, love,” your voice was barely above a whisper. Up on your toes, you pressed a kiss to Thrawn’s neck, “And don’t bother denying it. You know I can read you as easily as a data cylinder,” you quipped, trying to ease the tension. 

With a small sigh, Thrawn turned to face you. His lean body propped up against the countertop, arms crossed at his chest, and though he was looking at you, you could feel that his gaze was far away. 

“There was a moment today, after the attack,” Thrawn started, then paused, thinking over his words. “I had a feeling I don’t think I’ve ever experienced before.” You waited patiently through another extended pause, giving Thrawn what you hoped was an encouraging nod.

“As soon as the battle was over, I was hit by this strange sense of terror. There was this sudden, overwhelming dread, and I was convinced something had happened to you.” Thrawn paused, his throat working. “I don’t know what I would have done. What I’d do if–” Your features instantly softened, and you interrupted the thought, stepping up on your tiptoes to press a gentle kiss to Thrawn’s lips. 

“It’s okay,” you whispered, pulling away momentarily. “I’m fine.” You pressed another kiss to his lips. “I’m okay,” you reassured, murmuring against his lips, and it was as if upon hearing those words, feeling your soft lips against his, something within Thrawn broke. His hands were off the counter, gripping your waist, pulling you closer to him as his lips crashed against yours, gripping you in a fierce kiss. You hardly had a second to react before Thrawn picked you up, twisting your positions so he could place you on the countertop, not even breaking the kiss. Your eyebrows shot up in surprise, though you certainly weren’t about to stop him. Thrawn’s grip on your hips tightened as he deepened the kiss, pulling you to the edge of the counter. Suddenly, you understood where Thrawn was coming from. The relief at having him here, the knowledge that you were both safe, both together, it was enough to have you mirroring his intensity.

Your hands were desperate, clumsily trying to undo Thrawn’s uniform. Stars damn all the regulation zips that made these things so damn hard to remove. Eventually, Thrawn took pity on you, stepping back to remove the rest of the jacket, discarding his undershirt as well, letting both fall to the floor. You had only a moment to appreciate the toned, muscular skin, biting your bottom lip as you took in the view, and then Thrawn’s lips were back on yours and your fingers went straight to tangle themselves in his hair. 

“I need to—“ Thrawn gasps out between kisses. “I need to taste you.” 

You nodded your head fervently and spread your legs, leaning back on your hands as Thrawn pressed sweet kisses along your neck and down your still-clothed chest. Pushing up your skirt, you lifted yourself just enough for him to slide your damp panties down your leg. Thrawn let out an audible groan. “I do believe you’ll be the end of me,” he growled in a low voice, before falling to his knees. 

The sight of Thrawn on his knees before you was almost enough to push you over the edge. Thrawn slid your legs open, resting them on his shoulders as he pressed a kiss to your core. The sensation sent a shiver down your spine, but before you could even beg for more, he dove right in. 

He ate like a man who had been starved for days, unable to get enough. A single finger joined his tongue, and left you squirming on his counter. Your hips thrust up into his face, a second digit joining in, stretching you. He curled his fingers, hitting that spongy spot deep inside you, and stars danced behind your eyelids. “Thrawn!” you exclaimed, panting. His fingers moved faster, harder, expertly dragging your orgasm from you. “Thrawn, I’m going to—“ before you could even finish that sentence, your orgasm ripped through your body. Your back arched, cunt tightening around his fingers. His tongue lapped up your juices, which only prolonged the orgasm. Gasping for air, you slowly came down from her high, coming to just in time to spot Thrawn trailing soft kisses along the inside of your thighs, working his way back up to kiss your face. Thrawn pressed himself up against your soaking core, and you could feel how much he enjoyed that experience as his rock-hard member pressed against your sensitive mound, eliciting another moan from you, his name dancing on your lips. “Thrawn.”

“I need to feel you,” he moaned against his kiss. “I need to be inside you.” His kiss was frenzied, his need was unmistakable. You had never seen the man so undone, and you could hardly believe it was on your behalf. It felt like a dream. All you could manage was a breathy “yes,” in response, but it was all the approval Thrawn needed. 

Without missing a beat, Thrawn’s hands were on his belt, quickly undoing it, his pants falling to the floor soon after. You let out a sigh as he freed his cock and gave his member a rough couple pumps. Your mouth watered at the sight of it–thick and long, and deliciously veined, as if it was designed purely for your pleasure. You couldn’t help but rub your thighs together, desperate for some kind of friction as you took in the sight before you: 

Thrawn, his typically meticulous hair now a disheveled mess, his impressive member in hand, and a look of absolute feral need in his eyes. 

Thrawn held the tip of his cock, teasing your opening. Even when he was overcome with need, he still took the time to savor this moment. In a moment of impatient desperation, you thrust your hips up off the counter, which Thrawn rewarded with a swift thrust of his hips, his cock finally filling you to the brim. He paused for a moment, letting you adjust. A breathless moan of approval from you is all it took for him to lose himself. 

His thrusts were hard and his pace was quick. He needed this. He needed to feel you beneath his fingers, to know that you were safe in his arms. You threw your head back, the pleasure radiating through your body. In and out, in and out. Thrawn’s breathing was labored, letting out breathy moans. His pace quickened, and he could tell you were nearing another orgasm. Your cunt tightened around his cock as you neared her edge, and Thrawn let out a gasp and another moan, your name on his lips. It was enough to send you over the edge once again, wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling him closer into you. Feeling your pussy pulse around his cock was just enough to cause Thrawn to lose any remaining composure. “Fuck,” Thrawn grunted, grabbing your hips tight enough to bruise, thrusting his hips even harder. With a final groan, Thrawn’s hips faltered and his cock twitched as he emptied himself inside you.

Thrawn pressed his forehead to yours as you both struggled to catch your breath. He loosened his fingers from their iron grip on your hips, and he was surprised at the slight shake that unsteadied his hand. “That’s new,” Thrawn remarked to himself, still perplexed at how thoroughly you had undone him. He was enamored with you. His hands absentmindedly trailed along your side as he pressed tender kisses along your neck and jaw, still soaking in your scent. He paused when he reached the apex of your neck and he relished the feel of your pulse beneath his lips, further proof that you were alive and well. 

“I love you.” The words tumbled from Thrawn’s mouth, his deep voice barely above a whisper. You froze beneath his touch. Even Thrawn seemed momentarily taken aback by the words which he hadn’t even meant to say out loud. But with every moment that passed, Thrawn realized how true they were. He was in love with you. And, if he was being honest with himself, he had been for quite some time. “I love you,” you whispered back, the softest smile on your face. Thrawn couldn’t help his smile as your lips met again, but this kiss was different: full of passion, yes, but something softer. Love. 

“Damn,” you breathed out, breaking the kiss after several moments. “Maybe warships should attack the ascendancy more often,” you said with a playful smile on your lips. 

Thrawn bit back a growl and, with a scowl, took you into his arms, lifting you off the countertop. “Don’t even joke about that,” he said in a low voice, immediately followed by a soft press of his lips to your temple. Thrawn started towards your bedroom, wondering what exactly he was getting himself into, but knowing that he was in too deep to turn back now. 

[neuroprincess]

Abbott Elementary - Having a baby with Melissa Schemmenti (Headcanon)

Melissa Schemmenti/Female Reader

Classification: Fluff

Warnings: None

Word count: +1600

Part One | Part Two

- She is scared to death of the idea of being a mother, first of all that it's something she put off all those years married to Joe because she knows it's a big responsibility she's not ready for, and second that Melissa thinks she's too old to have a baby. When you bring up the subject she immediately denies and laughs nervously, putting her cards on the table being sincere, you understood and respected her;

- But nothing is the same after that conversation, the famous "baby fever" happens and all she sees are babies, dozens and dozens of chubby babies, full of hair, gaping smiles and sweet eyes. And then her cousin had a daughter, Sofia, a baby who is obsessed with you and won't leave your lap at family reunions, in those moments she catches herself imagining how a baby of the two of you would look like. She always imagines a chubby baby with rosy cheeks, olive eyes, and a Schemmenti appetite;

- And it's at one of these reunions that she decides to give the possibility of having children a chance even at 50, you are cradling Sofia in the bedroom when she enters, with a plate of lasagna in hand and a rehearsed speech in mind, but when the teacher sees the scene she softens completely forgetting any words she has rehearsed. "I think I want one." She whispers sitting next to you on the bed, absorbed in the beauty of the scenery, pushing her own insecurities into the background and imagining a shared future;

- When you start talking about the possibilities, she tells you that she knows a guy and soon realizes the equivocation, retracting it by saying that she knows a guy who owns a fertility clinic and owes her a favor. After a few consultations you opt for artificial insemination and spend weeks choosing a donor, Melissa thinks it's stressful at first, but soon gets excited, especially when she and Barbara start ranking the "ugliest men no one would choose". After almost a month you find the perfect man, Italian family, green eyes, red hair, law degree, in appearance almost a male version of your wife;

- The first attempt is frustrated, there were six negative tests thrown away and a sensitive redhead for days, she is impatient and can't wait to work. The team finds her behavior awkward, and you fend off curious colleagues, choosing to hide from them and everyone else that you are trying to get pregnant, except Barb. The second attempt filled you with hope with a false positive from the pharmacy test and that was snatched away from you with the blood test, Melissa left the clinic silent and on the way home asked if you still want to go through this, the hormones, consultations, procedures and the disappointment. And it's not as if you can continue to pay for so many attempts on a teacher's salary. You say you feel equally frustrated, but want to give it one last chance and that you can turn to adoption;

- As some say, the third time is the lucky one. One trimester after the second attempt you decide to give insemination one last chance and, not wanting to give your already frustrated wife hope, you decide to do the test alone when suspicious. Almost a dozen positive pharmaceutical tests and one blood test confirm what you both hoped and wished for. A Schemmenti baby on the way;

- The reveal is simple but symbolic, you order an apron with the words "Mommy Schemmenti" embroidered on it. Melissa weirds out the random gift, especially since she hardly ever wears an apron for cooking, so she makes a sexual joke, teasing about a new kink she's heard about and whether this is an invitation for you two to try it. When you tell her that the two of you will be Schemmenti mommies she finally understands and can't help but shed tears of happiness, lovingly hugging and kissing you for the rest of the night, thanking you for bringing your child into the world;

- You decide to keep the pregnancy a secret, at least during the first trimester because it is the most delicate and intimate, the teacher is a fierce, loving and protective mother. The first weeks were physically exhausting, all those nausea, excessive trips to the bathroom, the fatigue and vomiting, the last one was the worst part, the baby apparently rejects any food that is not salad and yogurt. Melissa seems almost offended when you run to vomit after eating pasta a carbonara and questions the Italian origin of the donor while rubbing your back in front of the toilet;

- This woman has always had a hand on you, whether it's over the table at a dining table, the hand on your thigh at work meetings, on your back while you're leaving Abbott, etc. But since the discovery of your pregnancy this has become more than frequent, she simply won't leave your side, accompanies you everywhere you go and to all your appointments (she has even considered combining your two classes in just to be with you), takes care of your every need and desire. Do you want a weird milkshake in the middle of the night? She'll do it. Do you feel pain in your back or feet during class? Melissa will give you a massage at lunchtime. Did someone bother you? She will already be taking out her earrings to make that person cry;

- And that's how everyone finds out you're pregnant, you've just reached your second trimester and the baby has started to show, a visible lump that you hide with clothes. But Janine broke the air conditioner, again, and you had to take off the extra layer, which caught Ava's attention, the woman commented that you have put on weight and said she would send you a tik tok of a diet that is making success, Melissa doesn't lose your look of pain knowing how much you are struggling with the physical changes and self esteem. "She's not fat, she's carrying my baby, idiot!" your wife raises her voice and stands up, already taking off the earrings, ready to attack but you stop her;

- The team is simply delighted with the news, the next day they show up with gifts (among them an Eagles bodysuit and another written "Philly, No one like us. We don't care.”, brownies and Ava starts a bet about the baby's gender behind your back, Melissa secretly enters the bet, she is sure that the baby will be a boy. Earlier the redhead wanted to find out almost immediately, so you were weirded out when she suggested a cliché baby shower reveal and insisted it be at the school. Obviously Barbara was in responsible, the only one who wouldn't open her mouth to anyone and so it was, you found out only when the slice was removed from the cake, revealing a dark blue. She, Janine and Gregory won the bet;

- The Schemmenti's don't exactly know how to react or what to say with the news, the siblings and cousins soon show excitement, always waiting for the moment when Melissa would bring additions to the family and a cousin to their children. Her parents seem more skeptical, they have seen their daughter have her heart broken and everything seems so fast with you compared to her previous relationships, deep down they are just afraid that she will over indulge and get hurt again, but they quickly get excited about the arrival of the new grandchild, her mother shows you all the embarrassing photo albums, told you about how Melissa was as a kid and gave you tips, you come home with copies of photos of your wife as a child and a happy heart knowing how lucky your child is;

- She likes to call the baby "Tesoro (Treasure)" and "Amore mio (my love)", Melissa has the habit of talking to your belly, the boy is very agitated by the presence of the other mother, but is also easily calmed down by her voice and affectionate nicknames. If he won't let you sleep, your wife will read children's books. If he is agitated while you are teaching, she will lecture the little Schemmenti, which he seems to understand and won't kick your internal organs for the rest of the day. Before bed is her favorite time to talk to your son, Melissa likes to have deep conversations with the child while you fall asleep, admiring their interaction;

- Although it doesn't seem so, she is still scared to death to be a mother, but ready and willing to do her best for your son. Sometimes insecurities surface and Melissa soon goes looking for advice, usually from Barbara, the first grade teacher reassuring her about motherhood and always giving affirmations about how she will be a great mother, the kids love her and so does the bambino, and he hasn't even been born yet;

- When your waters break a month earlier than expected, the usually composed and rational Melissa gives way to a terrified and crazed mother, running around before putting you in the car and making at least three tickets on the way to the hospital. She doesn't leave your side at any time, except when you ask for something, and she holds your hand through the six hours of labor, not caring about the painful squeeze and the swear words directed at her, the redhead knows it's not easy and all worth in the end, when you hear that loud cry that sounds like music to your ears;

- Melissa is the first to hold him and suddenly she finds herself very vunerable, the teacher can't help but shed tears as she stares at your little angel curled up in her arms, fragile and lovely, so perfect as you once imagined, with coppery hair, olive eyes, chubby cheeks and a killer smile, moody like his mother, a perfect little Schemmenti.

Schemmenti Family Masterlist

[likesunsetorange]

“mikasa and eren are antisocial af so they probably end up talking bc they’re little losers lol, and eren probably can tell mikasa is bored and here’s this gorgeous model, so he’s gonna whisk her away and they go to his ranch they have a romantic night under the stars and all that but he’s dumb and doesn’t get her number and she goes back home to ny without it”

DORKS!LOSERS!*AFFECTIONATE*

them slipping out of the room all giddy!!!!!!!!!! him not getting her number is sooodooooso my doodoo head…….. he’s already resigned himself to being a notch on her post, a lover if one may (can he call himself that? he will in his head anyways!)

like a global model would’ve never taken a relationship with him seriously so he’s should just treasure the moment then boom she shows up! and if we’re really leaning into the romcom of it all it’s during like crazy rain, her car gets stuck, she trucks herself to his doorstep by foot, and he stares slack jawed when he opens the door to se her <3

omg anon i was using your ask to draft a drabble and then this little incident of mikasa showing up to eren’s house has since spiraled further so we will be compiling all the ideas into one and since i had already been writing on this one we’re still gonna use yours lol!

also very much enjoying the dramatics and hallmark vibes here like is that just the energy i exude? extreme unseriousness and hallmark level corniness lol??

but fuck it drabble let’s go 🦅🦅🦅

(this actually ended up being so long lol 1.6k so enjoy!)

The rain only started falling harder every minute longer Mikasa continued to drive down the gravel road, the pitch black of the country sky only adding to the lack of visibility. She gripped the steering wheel hard, trying to focus on what little bit of the road she could see. The high beams of the rental car were doing little to nothing to help her see, only adding to her anxiety.

Her only saving grace was the fact that the GPS was telling her she was only five minutes away from Eren’s house—the last place she should be on a Wednesday night in the middle of April—not to mention she was halfway across the country, in the middle of nowhere, driving down a country road to see a man who’d she had only seen once. 

Had it been her best idea? No. Was she still doing it? Absolutely.

There had been few times in her life when she had run off pure spontaneity, and she would allow herself this one instance of a lack of sensibility. It certainly wasn’t wise to book a flight in the act of impulse after finding out said man would be free all week, a pause in his hectic schedule, a schedule she had acquired by coercing her assistant to do some potentially not-so-legal things. 

But the ticket had been bought. The rental car reservation had been made. So there was no turning back. (There certainly was opportunity to turn around, but Mikasa didn’t want to give herself any potential out or else she wouldn’t ever commit to doing so.)

So here she was, 0.75 miles from his house, running off pure adrenaline, rehearsing the speech she and Sasha had prepared.

“Hi, Eren. I know this is sudden, but I probably should’ve asked you for your number before leaving. I had to come back to Texas for another shoot, so I thought I would stop by.”

Maybe it was partially based on a lie, but tomato, tomato. It would be fine, she would be fine, and she told herself that all of this certainly wouldn’t blow up in her face.

Until that was precisely what happened.

She had been driving down the curve that led up to Eren’s ranch house when she felt the car jerk, suddenly drifting off the road, before halting to a stop, the Low-Pressure light immediately flashing on. As soon as she saw the lights flash on, she immediately knew one of the tires had blown out, leaving her stranded in the pouring rain just outside of Eren’s house.

“Fuck,” she muttered under her breath. Mikasa leaned her head against the steering wheel, her stomach beginning to pool with regret.

“Do you think it would be weird if I just showed up at his house?”

Yes, Mikasa. It would be weird—it’s fucking insane of you, she thought to herself. And you certainly wouldn’t be in the fucking predicament you are in now if you just called him like any sane other sane person.

Mikasa glanced at her phone, the GPS alerting her she was only 0.25 miles from his house, and the weather app telling her the rain wouldn’t stop for at least the next four hours. 

She sat there weighing her options. 

Call a tow truck, and stick out the wait in her car

Walk to Eren’s house 

Mikasa could see the lights of his house shining through the rain like a lighthouse in a stormy sea, signaling a potential safe return. At this point, she had already risked so much—her pride, her sanity, and almost her life had the tire incident gone any worse—what more did she have to lose?

She shut off the car, grabbed the keys and her phone—leaving her other belongings so if she needed to do a walk of shame back to her car, at least she’d be traveling light—and shoved on a jacket, thankful to whatever higher power she decided to bring one with her on the plane that day. 

Mikasa told herself that if she ran as fast as she could, she would be there quickly, but she didn’t anticipate having to trek through mud, puddles, and essentially pitch black to make it to his front porch. By the time she made it up the steps, her white shoes were ruined, her white tank top was practically see-through, showing every lace detail of her black bra, and her bangs were plastered to her face. (Suddenly, there didn’t seem to be any point in asking how she should do her hair.)

There wasn’t much left to do but ring the doorbell, and at this point, she didn’t have anything left to lose, so she jammed her finger against it, giving herself no opportunity to back out. She heard the chime echo through his house while she stood there fiddling with her thumbs, trying to ring out as much water as she could from her hair, trying to make herself look the least bit presentable.

She heard the low timbre of a man from the other side of the door before the fumbling of the lock and doorknob snapped her attention forward. Mikasa felt her heart get stuck in her stomach as she saw the door pull back, Eren’s tall frame coming into view.

Mikasa had to stop herself from letting her jaw drop when she saw him; the first time she saw him practically paling in comparison to how he looked right now. From the fact that he had no shirt on, allowing her to see just how much muscle he had from all those days he spent working hard, to the sweats that hung low on his hips, leaving little to her imagination. He even looked prettier when he was home, as if the sense of comfort it brought him added an extra glow to his face. 

His hand was clenched around his phone, holding it to his ear when he finally spoke, breaking Mikasa out of her ogling.

“Hey mom, I’m gonna have to call you back later… No ma’am… Yes ma’am, I will. I promise… I love you too… Okay, bye. Talk to you tomorrow.” His voice was velvety when he spoke, something about the way he spoke sweet and rich, a sound Mikasa didn’t think she’d ever get tired of.

Eren stared at her blankly once he hung up the phone, dumbfounded that she was standing on his front porch, not to mention that she was muddy and drenched from the rain. 

The two of them were stuck in a staring contest, neither of them able to formulate words—all of Mikasa’s confidence had suddenly flown out the window, leaving her at a loss for words, because as soon as she opened her mouth, she knew she would be babbling like an idiot.

“Umm… Hi?” Eren said, his greeting coming out more like a question than anything.

“Hi,” Mikasa somehow managed to squeak out. 

“Umm…” He repeated, still at a loss for words.

Mikasa’s mind, a jumbled mess, opted to go for it, knowing her babbling would be better than whatever awkward mess this was. 

“You forgot something,” she said blankly.

Eren looked at her confused, his brows furrowing, “What?”

“You didn’t ask for my number the last time we saw each other. You forgot to ask me for it when I left here,” she said, stepping closer to where he stood in the doorway.

“You wanted me to ask you for your number?” Eren stared at her in disbelief, whether it was because he was shocked at her words or that she dared to show up and say them; Mikasa didn’t know.

“You brought me to your ranch, took me on a ride on horseback underneath the stars, called me beautiful, and then still didn’t ask me for my number. You didn’t even try to kiss me.”

“Did you want me to?” Eren said as his eyes flickered to her lips.

“Do you really think I would fly across the country on a whim and walk a quarter mile in the rain if I didn’t want you to ask me for my number or kiss me, Eren?” Mikasa asked. 

She stood before him, glancing up at him, her face merely inches away from his. She could see how long his lashes looked beneath the porch light, the strands of gold and bronze within his hair, and the plush pink of his lips—right where she could kiss him.

“Mikasa, you walked a quarter mile in the pouring—” 

He didn’t get the chance to finish his sentence before Mikasa pushed herself upward, so her lips met his, her hand steadying itself on his broad chest. He tasted like sweet tea and a touch of Chapstick, his lips as soft as she could have imagined. His hands steadied on her waist, bringing her closer to him. She relished in the way he felt before the reality of the situation began to plague her mind—clarity being her cruelest enemy.

Maybe it was the second-guessing running through her head, but the sudden urge to pull away instantly flooded through her mind before she jerked herself back.

“Hey, don’t do that,” Eren’s voice immediately rang through her ears as she pulled away. “Who said I wanted you to stop?”

“Oh, did you not?”

“You show up on my doorstep with all these questions, then kiss me, and now you’re surprised I wanted to kiss you back?”

“Umm… maybe?”

Eren didn’t give her much time to think before he picked her up and walked her into his house. “How about I let you into my house so you don’t end up sick from being drenched in the rain, get you some dry clothes, and you can ask me all the questions you want?”

“Okay,” she responded shyly, her face flushing red at his directness.

“Never met a girl so pretty and bold before, surely I have to keep you around.”

[sosooley]

From Val’s book “I’m Your Huckleberry”

We love Westerns. We learn everything from Westerns and yet learn nothing from them. We continue killing ourselves in unconscionable ways

I’ve entitled this tome I’m Your Huckleberry for many reasons. I like the unintentional echo of Huckleberry Finn, which is my favorite novel and features my favorite character. I also realize that the line that I, playing the diseased Doc Holliday, articulated has become iconic. I speak it before shooting to death the fearsome Johnny Ringo, played by Michael Biehn. By the way, despite some fans’ contention that in the 1800s the handles of caskets were called huckles and thus the word huckle bearer was a term for pall bearer, I do not say, “I’m your huckle bearer.” I say, “I’m your huckleberry,” connotating, “I’m your man. You’ve met your match.”

In trying to understand the character of Doc Holliday, it’s important to remember he’s a fallen aristocrat, frustrated by his inability to express his authentic self. His greatest retribution for this loss was his caustic wit. His tongue is more lethal than his pistol. Throughout the drama, he’s dying of both drink and tuberculosis. In playing him, I thought of what my dear friend the great screenplay writer Robert Towne had taught me: all insightful dialogue comes out of situations, not predeveloped thought. In that regard, I saw Doc’s situation as dire. I also saw his action as defiance in the face of death. I loved him.

I was especially attuned to the rhythms of Doc’s speech, so much so that I called Kevin with the most specific of questions. I said, “There’s a comma on page thirty-two where I don’t think Doc needs to pause. Wouldn’t it be more effective if he simply drew out the line?”

“When you get more into the drawl,” said Kevin, “you’ll find that the pause is right.”

“Are you certain?”

“I am,” said Kevin. He was. And he was in no mood to argue about a comma. The fact that Kevin proved to be right—the comma was necessary to that musicality—shows that sometimes the writer hears his creation with greater acuity than the actor. Sometimes.

Rehearsals were hilarious. There were five or six actors who had played leads in blockbusters. Many times very small parts seemed to become what the whole film was about.

Fortunately, my wife and daughter were on set. Our little girl glowed; she was radiant and adorable and won the hearts of the entire crew. Everyone wanted to play with Mercedes. All went well until the first day of shooting. Moments of mystical wonderment morphed into a filmmaking fiasco.

Kurt Russell and I were on horses. Horses are always tricky. They want to move. They do move. Even super-skilled riders like me and Kurt had to listen to the whims of our steeds, and this day they were trying to tell us something. Writer Kevin Jarre was directing.

And then Kevin Jarre shouted, “Action!” The problem was, there was no shot. Kevin had positioned the camera at an untenable angle. It seemed to me that Kevin, great writer though he was, didn’t know much about directing. Kurt looked me straight in the eye and said, “Val, we’re in trouble.” I had to say something. I did, as gently as possible, but there was no way my remarks didn’t reveal Kevin’s ineptitude. He didn’t last long. Blockbuster director George Cosmatos was brought in. Dozens of cast and crew members were canned. It was an unholy mess. I teamed up with Kurt to edit long sections of the script, because the studio couldn’t give us any more time or money and we were already a month into shooting, which we now had to make up for. It’s amazing the film turned out as well as it did.

I cherish the experience of working with Kurt, whom I love like a brother. When the Academy widens their awards to include something like the lifetime achievement award for Best, Most Unique, Lovely Person for Decades in a Row, if Kurt isn’t the first recipient, I’ll eat my Doc Holliday hat. The film has a cult following, as does my beloved Doc.

[karahalloway]

Isle of Misfits: Chapter 8 - Burnt by the Truth

Fandom: TRR x Platinum x OH x CoP x TNA (so far...)

Series: Isle of Misfits Round Robin hosted by @choicesprompts

Word Count: 1,200

Characters: TRR's Leo Rys, Liam Rys, Olivia Nevrakis (RoE's 'Katie Rys', TNA's Sam Dalton and CoP's Trystan Thorne mentioned)

Warnings: M (swearing, references to depression, references to alcohol abuse, references to suicide)

“You’re still angry, aren’t you?” Liam asked as he and Leo stepped out of the bar following their randezvous with Trystan Thorne.

Leo threw a scoff back at his brother. “Why on earth would you think that, Your Majesty?”

Liam heaved a low breath as he watched the former Crown Prince of Cordonia stride off into the warmth of the night.

Leo had always been the more opinionated of the two of them — which certainly got him into a lot more hot water with their father than Liam believed was strictly healthy for one’s constitution — and this latest ‘divergence of opinion’ was no exception.

His brother just had to be made to see that the intervention was for his own good.

Brokering a peace alliance between warring states would’ve been easier…

But, soothing ruffled feathers is what Liam had been trained to do since he could talk, so if anyone could make his obstinate brother see reason, it was him… right?

“Leo, please,” he pleaded, jogging after the shadowy form of his sibling. “If you will just—”

“Why?” came the bitter response. “So you can tell me how much of a disappointment I am? How much I let you and the kingdom down? Don’t think I haven’t heard that speech a thousand times before…”

“Actually, I was going to try and apologise…”

His brother’s words caused Leo to stop short. Turning slowly around, he regarded Liam under the moonlight. “You pulling my leg?”

“No,” Liam insisted, spreading his hands to show his sincerity. “I genuinely am sorry. The entire situation could have been handled much better. You’d come back home to try and get away from the unfortunate situation you found yourself in — quite accidentally, but all accounts — and instead of offering you the moral support you so clearly carved, I annihilated your trust by going behind your back.”

“So, why did you do it?” asked Leo, folding his arms. His brother’s words had touched him, but he wasn’t going to give Liam the satisfaction of caving to the clearly well-rehearsed words to just hug it all out. “If there was an issue, you should’ve just come to me.”

“I… I couldn’t,” Liam admitted, his shoulders dropping a fraction of an inch.

“Why not?” Leo demanded suspiciously.

“Because Katie intimated that you would never do something like this voluntarily,” Liam explained tightly. “And… if you didn’t do it, she was going to file for divorce.”

The breath left Leo’s body like oxygen being sucked out of a vacuum chamber. “She what—?"

Liam looked up at his brother sympathetically. “Why didn’t you tell me that things had become so fraught?”

“I didn’t realise that they had…” Leo admitted in a hollow voice. “I knew she wanted me home more, to be with the kids, and stuff, but… Oh, Jesus, I’ve fucked this royally, haven’t I?”

“It’s not too late,” Liam consoled, stepping up to his brother to lay a hand on his shoulder. “She’s willing to give you this chance. But you have to commit to the program. Bertrand has had success with several clients already, who were arguably in bigger strifes than you.”

“Not with their wives, though…”

“No,” Liam conceded with a smile. “But that’s why you’ve been paired with a mentor — so they can guide you through—”

“Sam Dalton is a dick.”

“I am afraid I have not had the opportunity to—”

“He left his wife to be with his maid,” Leo spat. “What the hell does a man like that know about love, commitment, the sacrament of marriage, of—”

“You left Madeleine in the lurch when you announced your engagement to Katie…”

Leo opened his mouth, only to quickly close it. “That’s not the same thing.”

“Bertrand knows what he’s doing,” Liam assured him. “Give this a chance. Who knows? You might be pleasantly surprised by the outcome.”

“Why couldn’t you have found me a normal rehab in Switzerland? Or, better yet, California?”

Liam couldn’t help but snort. “Because you escaped the last rehab centre that Father sent you to. In the middle of a blizzard.”

“Yes, that was certainly one of my more daring jailbreaks,” Leo admits whimsically. “But the food was terrible. I had to bail.”

“Yes, well, you are on an island this time,” Liam reminded him wryly. “And the Beaumonts have a Michelin star chef on retainer, so—”

“Yeah, yeah,” muttered Leo with a sigh. “I’m stuck here.”

“That’s the spirit!” quipped Liam with a grin, slapping his brother jovially on the arm.

Leo rolled his eyes at him.

“But in all seriousness,” Liam added. “I hope you make the most of it. And are able to patch things up with Katie.”

“Yeah…” agreed Leo with a low exhale. “I hope so, too.”

“Rough night?”

“You could say that…” Leo admitted, shuffling across the polished marble floor of the foyer.

Despite the tense start to the heart-to-heart, he had managed to make up with Liam before his brother’s departure back to the mainland. But the revelation that his own wife had been the instigator behind not only the very frightening kidnapping, but this mandated exile as well, was going to take longer to digest than the remnants of the copious amounts of alcohol he still had floating around in his system.

Dropping the magazine that she’d been casually perusing, Olivia swung her killer heel clad feet off the arm of the Chesterfield sofa she’d been lounging on, and moved to join Leo. “Need a hangover cure?”

“This is going to take more than a pair of raw eggs and some Lythikosian pepper sauce…”

She grabbed his arm to pull him to a stop. “Liam told you, didn’t he?”

Leo’s eyes met Olivia’s flashing emerald gaze, before falling to the floor. “Yes…”

The Duchess of Lythikos’ mouth hardened. “He shouldn’t have done that. It was not his place.”

“Yeah, well… The cat’s out of the bag now…” Leo grumbled, continuing his weary trudge back to his room. “That’s got to count for something, right?”

“Not really…” Olivia muttered. “Because now you’re going to fall into a chronic bout of depression, try to give yourself liver poisoning, and seriously contemplate jumping off the twelfth storey balcony, and I’m going to be the one who has to try and talk you out of it… Again.”

“Hey!” Leo objects, coming to a halt. “It wasn’t that bad! I—”

“If I hadn’t booked you on that Mediterranean cruise against your will, you’d be lying six feet deep, rather than merely lying to yourself.”

“Harsh!”

“But accurate,” Olivia replied. “Which is why I’m going to throttle our beloved King the next time I see him. He’s single handedly set you back by at least two weeks.”

“Well, considering that I’ve gotten absolutely nothing out of the first two weeks I’ve been here, I’d say we’re simply back to square one!”

“Eugh…” groans Olivia. “You Rys are going to— What’s that?”

“Ow!” cried Leo as Olivia’s blood-red nails dug suddenly into his forearm. “What the hell are you—?”

“Something’s burning…”

[dollypopup]

i don't talk nearly enough about how great Colin is

-excellent fencer, clearly dedicated to it. great taste in puffy shirts 10/10

-brave af!!!! idk about you, but the very idea of being out at sea for several months pretty much w/ no one who knows me scares the soul out of me. bruh is out here on a ship headed to a completely unfamiliar place w/ not one shred of fear

-he's such a good brother? the way he supported Benny was so sweet? and all his little quips with Eloise? they are the sarcastic siblings for SURE. boxing with Greg? playing hoops w/ Hyacinthe? his 'I'm clearly Daphne's favorite'? i adore him

-calling Anthony an ass in defense of Marina was ICONIC

-let's be honest, he was a real one w/ Marina all around. boi was out here defending her left right and center. and that scene where they go 'That's a. . .rather long engagement. . .' 'Or simply romantic! :D ' was adorable. then his 'Why does anyone, marry, Brother? For love.' line? so earnest! heart in his hands!!! and even after it all went kaboom he didn't say a bad word about her. told her he would still have married her if she just told him and he meant it. said that with his whole chest, too. got a reality check from her when he visited and then when asked STILL said 'we could have done more for her' KING 👏 SHIT. may we all have an ex that respects us this much

-canonically the best dancer out of the Bridgerbunch

-loves his mum with all his heart and soul. that scene where he's walking her up the stairs and they're joking around is so wholesome. that scene where Violet is looking for someone to escort her and A and B all flee the scene but Colin steps up? our boy is so sweet

-his scene w/ Jack where he's all puffed up and imposing and tall af going 'how dare you take advantage of them??? fix this shit, NOW' and then turning around and bashfully going 'i rehearsed that speech for hours' when he and Pen could talk privately again WAS ADORABLE, don't even TRY to deny it

-multitalented! our boy can do it all: he sings! he dances! he writes! he drinks his respect women juice on the daily! he fences! he's fluent in sarcasm! he rides horseback! he has anxiety! he's a flirt! he can't stop snacking! are you not entertained?

-also his scene w/ Will where he's like 'no, i fucked up, i insulted you and i messed with your business. i'm sorry and i'm making it right' was sexy as hell. he didn't have to, he could have totally just let it slide under the rug, but he took accountability and made amends

-speaking of sexy: our little rule breaker! holds Penelope's hands in front of everybodyyyy! no glove no love, who? writes her (love) letters while he travels! doesn't give a fuck about propriety! does drugs! I LOVE HIM

-so much integrity. when he messes up he takes full responsibility for it. he's nice as hell to Phillip, encourages his interests, nerds out with him. Stuck his whole neck out for Pen the Featheringtons. 'Do you think I would care that she loved someone else before? That would make me a hypocrite' apologizing to Pen before leaving for his tour. telling her she inspires him. is always there to escort his mum. everything good.

-lost and aimless, my beloved. he's just a dweeb putting on a front and it's so wonderfully relatable

-i love his hero complex. yeah, i said it!!! Dancing with Pen after Cressida spills the drink? HOT. Getting Marina away from the old dude clearly making her uncomfortable? HOT. Standing up to Jack? HOT. Getting Kate and Anthony to trudge along after that Pal Mall game? HOT. Daphne coming to him in the middle of the night demanding to know about the duel and him getting on a horse and heading out with her? HOT.

-he's sarcastic as hell. 'She likes me MUCH better than you, Benedict' 'Maybe he's still at the altar waiting for Miss Edwina' 'Of course not, you are *clearly* sober', Anthony: 'I wish to apologize' 'Are there locusts in the streets??? Blood in the Thames? Is the end of days upon us already?????' 'our host looks a bit fussy. do you think if he goes to bed we all have to leave?' and, of course 'Have you ever visited a farm?'

-he's just a lil shit w/ a heart of gold, how can you not love him?

[silverhallow]

Part 4: Making a Motion

Summary: perhaps a Princess can have her cake and eat it...?

(this is also on AO3)

When Sophie returned to the room she felt all eyes on her, she knew she and Phillip were supposed to give some sort of speech to the guests, preparation for tomorrow, thanking people for travelling and whatever else Ann had written into her speech but she knew she wasn’t going to read it.

She walked over to Phillip who offered his arm, he had no idea about the change of heart, the thoughts that were going through Sophie’s head at that moment and he was preparing for the speech, the last thing they would do before parting for the evening and then tomorrow they would become Man and Wife.

He looked at Sophie as she walked over to him, and she took his arm but as they reached the podium where the microphone was Sophie paused, they were away from everyone, the only person near them was Edmund Bridgerton, he had a part to play in reading out a proclamation for the wedding and seeing Benedict’s father made her decision for her in an instant.

“Phillip, wait…” she said quietly. Stopping him, pausing and turning to face him and took a deep breath, “everyone deserves a chance at finding true love, right?” she said

Phillip looked confused “erm… yes?”

“Including us?” she asked as she held the ring out that she removed and held out to him.

Phillip blinked for a moment before a smile appeared on his face “thank you…” he said and Sophie looked confused “Uhhh for saving me for doing the proper thing for once in my life… Now… i just have to tell George” he grimaced knowing his brother would be giving the whole I told you so routine.

“And I need to tell everyone else” Sophie said and the both just grinned at each other before saying “Good luck”

Sophie took a deep breath, with everyone staring at her she made her way up to the podium, a brief glance around the room and she couldn’t see Benedict, but she knew he wasn’t the reason she was doing this but she was doing this for her.

She didn’t want to be forced into something against her will and she hoped she could appeal to everyone for some compassion…

“Good evening everyone…A few moments ago, I realised the only reason I was getting married was because of a law, and that didn't seem like a good enough reason so I won’t be getting married tomorrow” she started, her confidence growing as she talked

“My grandmother has ruled without a man at her side for some time now and she rocks at it so as the Granddaughter of Queen Sarah and King Reginald, I ask the members of Parliament to think about your daughters, your nieces, and sisters, and granddaughters, and ask yourselves: would you force them to do what you're trying to make me do? I believe I will be a great queen. I understand Penwood to be a land that combines the beauty of the past with all the best hope of the future. I feel in my heart and soul that I can rule Penwood. I... I love Penwood. Do you think that I would be up here at a Wedding rehearsal if I didn’t… I know I can take us forward, I know I can be the Queen the country needs… so I stand here ready to take my place as your queen. Without a husband.” she said passionately.

There was an outbreak of applause and Sophie smiled knowing she’d gotten to them but Lord Cowper, one of the eldest members of parliament, the grumpiest and stickler for the laws in Sophie's opinion said “what about the law? ”

There was a lot of muttering from the members of parliament, and someone bemoaning about Cavander when Sophie felt someone at her shoulder and when she turned she saw Edmund beaming at her and he coughed “Make a motion”

“What?” sophie whispered back to him

“Make a motion… only you can change it… make a bloody motion to change the marriage law!” he whisper shouted at her

“Oh!” Sophie said with a bright smile.

“My Lords…” Sophie said as a hush moved over the crowd “I move to abolish the marriage law in its entirety, as to how it applies to present and future Queens of our great country…”

“Does anyone second the motion?” Edmund asked, knowing that this was his role and he just hoped that Sophie’s speech and appealing for them to think of the women in their life would work.

Silence fell over the crowd and Sophie felt her stomach sink, “hold their gaze” Edmund said and seeing the stern look of Sophie’s face whispered “softer…”

Sophie felt her face loosen and tried not to let her fear and hope show on her face as she looked around the room.

Just as she was starting to lose hope Lord Ashworth, the one person Sophie did not expect to help her nodded and raised a hand “I second the motion. Change is good, we need change”

Sophie felt her heart swell as Cowper next to him nodded.

Edmund grinned “All in favour of Abolishing the Marriage Law in entirety say Aye”

Lord Cowper started with an approving “Aye”and then much to Sophie’s surprise Lord Cavander, who would have inherited the crown for his son, raised his hand and said “Aye, the country needs a strong hand and I have faith you will do a fine job your highness” as his son look outraged

Sophie blinked as there were a few gasps around the room as Phillip Cavendar protested and his father shot him a glare “shush you, you had your chance but ruined it. She is far better prospect than you ever shall be” Philip wanted to argue with his father but his mother placed a hand on his shoulder and a look made him go quiet immediately as the rest of the Lord’s all said “Aye” 

Sophie beamed as Edmund said “The Aye’s have it, Congratulations your Highness” 

Following Edmund’s words, Sophie could have sagged but looked at her Prime Minister with a curious look as there was cheers and congratulatory applause “why did you tell me of this earlier?” she shot at him quietly

“I only learned of it last week, and have not had the opportunity to pass the information on” he replied but any further conversation was cut off as well wishers and people clamouring for Sophie’s attention, including her grandmother, descended upon her and she was lost in a sea of people but she felt like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

The full marriage law was abolished, she was free to marry whomever she chose and she was still going to be Queen!

The only thing that would have made the rest of the night perfect, was if Benedict had been there to witness it for he had disappeared whilst she was out of the room and she had not seen him since.

~*~

Benedict hadn’t been able to stay and watch, neither had Eloise. He knew his sister had a crush on Sir Phillip and that she was feeling the pain of watching the person you wanted to be with be with another as acutely as he was so they had stuck together during the early parts of the party.

He hated that he’d been forced to come but as his father was Prime Minister and his brother was married to Sophie’s eventual Chief of Staff, he knew there was no way of getting out of it.

He had it settled in his mind that once the wedding was done the following day, and the coronation in a week's time, he would be on the first flight out of the country. He had plans to go to America, to find a studio over there and paint and pour his heartache into his art.

He’d bring Eloise with him when he was settled, she could apply to a University in America so she could get away from it as well. 

It was not fair but Benedict knew Sophie had an impossible choice, and he knew that she was the best thing that ever happened to the country and that she was born to be Queen ad he could never ask her to give that up for him so he’d agreed with his mother that he would plaster a smile on his face, he would sit through the wedding ceremony that would break his heart into irreparable pieces with a fake smile on his face, he would do his duty as the Prime Minister’s son, and then leave the country and never to return home.

That was the way it had to be.

But the party was harder than he had thought it would be. He’d been around Sophie and Phillip over the last few weeks and it hadn’t hurt this much.

He had been behind a camera, able to hide his feelings but now, he had to watch them as the future Queen and Prince Consort knowing full well that if circumstances were different, if his father’s title was more than just a Lord and a Viscount, that he could have been the one on Sophie’s arm. The one who was going to marry her.

But alas, he was naught but a second, untitled, son and therefore not eligible enough for the Princess and Future Queen.

He sighed into his drink, tried not to watch her, but given the silver of her gown… his eyes were drawn towards her, she looked like an angel.

By the time she was making her way over to his father and he knew he was going to have to attempt to offer his sincere congratulations to her and Sir Phillip, he felt sick.

He had managed to keep his eyes from meeting hers all evening but as they approached her green eyes met his blue and held his gaze for a moment causing them both to freeze.

He watched as she left the room and he knew he had to do the same, with a tap to Eloise’s arm, knowing she didn’t want to be there any more than he did, he whispered “lets get out of here” and he steered her from the room.

They got in the car and got home and as he did so, he turned off his phone. He had no intention of speaking to anyone as he picked up his bottle of Whiskey and he hoped with all hope that tomorrow would never come…