#that little shriek is just as much a part of me as my skirts and my lack-of-tolerance towards men being creeps

[lacefuneral]

when i release my stede is femme comp y'all better appreciate me </3

[pensbridgerton]

On the sixth of April, in the year 1812—precisely two days before her sixteenth birthday—Penelope Featherington fell in love.

It was, in a word, thrilling. The world shook. Her heart leaped. The moment was breathtaking. And, she was able to tell herself with some satisfaction, the man in question—one Colin Bridgerton—felt precisely the same way. Oh, not the love part. He certainly didn’t fall in love with her in 1812 (and not in 1813, 1814, 1815, or—oh, blast, not in all the years 1816–1822, either, and certainly not in 1823, when he was out of the country the whole time, anyway). But his earth shook, his heart leaped, and Penelope knew without a shadow of a doubt that his breath was taken away as well.

For a good ten seconds.

Falling off a horse tended to do that to a man.

It happened thus:

She’d been out for a walk in Hyde Park with her mother and two older sisters when she felt a thunderous rumbling under her feet (see above: the bit about the earth shaking). Her mother wasn’t paying much attention to her (her mother rarely did), so Penelope slipped away for a moment to see what was about. The rest of the Featheringtons were in rapt conversation with Viscountess Bridgerton and her daughter Daphne, who had just begun her second season in London, so they were pretending to ignore the rumbling. The Bridgertons were an important family indeed, and conversations with them were not to be ignored.

As Penelope skirted around the edge of a particularly fat-trunked tree, she saw two riders coming her way, galloping along hell-for-leather or whatever expression people liked to use for fools on horseback who care not for their safety and well-being. Penelope felt her heart quicken (it would have been difficult to maintain a sedate pulse as a witness to such excitement, and besides, this allowed her to say that her heart leaped when she fell in love).

Then, in one of those inexplicable quirks of fate, the wind picked up quite suddenly and lifted her bonnet (which, much to her mother’s chagrin, she had not tied properly since the ribbon chafed under her chin) straight into the air and, splat! right onto the face of one of the riders.

Penelope gasped (taking her breath away!), and then the man fell off his horse, landing most inelegantly in a nearby mud puddle. She rushed forward, quite without thinking, squealing something that was meant to inquire after his welfare, but that she suspected came out as nothing more than a strangled shriek. He would, of course, be furious with her, since she’d effectively knocked him off his horse and covered him with mud—two things guaranteed to put any gentleman in the foulest of moods. But when he finally rose to his feet, brushing off whatever mud could be dislodged from his clothing, he didn’t lash out at her. He didn’t give her a stinging set-down, he didn’t yell, he didn’t even glare.

He laughed.

He laughed.

Penelope hadn’t much experience with the laughter of men, and what little she had known had not been kind. But this man’s eyes—a rather intense shade of green—were filled with mirth as he wiped a rather embarrassingly placed spot of mud off his cheek and said, “Well, that wasn’t very well done of me, was it?”

And in that moment, Penelope fell in love.

When she found her voice (which, she was pained to note, was a good three seconds after a person of any intelligence would have replied), she said, “Oh, no, it is I who should apologize! My bonnet came right off my head, and . . .”

She stopped talking when she realized he hadn’t actually apologized, so

there was little point in contradicting him.

“It was no trouble,” he said, giving her a somewhat amused smile. “I— Oh, good day, Daphne! Didn’t know you were in the park.”

Penelope whirled around to find herself facing Daphne Bridgerton, standing next to her mother, who promptly hissed, “What have you done, Penelope Featherington?” and Penelope couldn’t even answer with her

stock, Nothing, because in truth, the accident was completely her fault, and she’d just made a fool of herself in front of what was obviously—judging from the expression on her mother’s face—a very eligible bachelor indeed.

Not that her mother would have thought that she had a chance with him. But Mrs. Featherington held high matrimonial hopes for her older girls. Besides, Penelope wasn’t even “out” in society yet.

But if Mrs. Featherington intended to scold her any further, she was unable to do so, because that would have required that she remove her attention from the all-important Bridgertons, whose ranks, Penelope was quickly figuring out, included the man presently covered in mud.

“I hope your son isn’t injured,” Mrs. Featherington said to Lady Bridgerton.

“Right as rain,” Colin interjected, making an expert sidestep before Lady Bridgerton could maul him with motherly concern.

Introductions were made, but the rest of the conversation was unimportant, mostly because Colin quickly and accurately sized up Mrs. Featherington as a matchmaking mama. Penelope was not at all surprised when he beat a hasty retreat.

But the damage had already been done. Penelope had discovered a reason to dream.

Later that night, as she replayed the encounter for about the thousandth time in her mind, it occurred to her that it would have been nice if she could have said that she’d fallen in love with him as he kissed her hand before a dance, his green eyes twinkling devilishly while his fingers held hers just a little more tightly than was proper. Or maybe it could have happened as he rode boldly across a windswept moor, the (aforementioned) wind no deterrent as he (or rather, his horse) galloped ever closer, his (Colin’s, not the horse’s) only intention to reach her side.

But no, she had to go and fall in love with Colin Bridgerton when he fell off a horse and landed on his bottom in a mud puddle. It was highly irregular, and highly unromantic, but there was a certain poetic justice in that, since nothing was ever going to come of it.

Why waste romance on a love that would never be returned? Better to save the windswept-moor introductions for people who might actually have a future together.

And if there was one thing Penelope knew, even then, at the age of sixteen years minus two days, it was that her future did not feature Colin Bridgerton in the role of husband.

She simply wasn’t the sort of girl who attracted a man like him, and she feared that she never would be.

Romancing Mister Bridgerton - Prologue

[nyx-umbrakinesis]

Imagine you are laying in bed with Vox and you know he is charging/asleep and you are trying to do your walk of shame/pride and you pull out your phone to call for an Uber/taxi and when you look at your screen it Vox going "Baby come back to bed"

This ended up nsfw lmao Vox x Reader, CW: vagina fingering, and p in V sex.

You slide out of bed, looking over your shoulder to make sure Vox's screen is still dimmed and his eyes shut.

Quickly gathering your clothes and heading out through the hauntingly quiet halls of VoxTek, footsteps echoing as you scramble to call your ride.

Fuck you knew it was a mistake to sleep with your boss, fuck fuck fuck, what were you going to do? What was he going to do? Fire you? Maybe you should quit.

Your mind whirrs as you get in your ride... Odd you hadn't called for a limousine but you checked the name with the driver and he said something about an upgrade so you shrugged assuming other drivers were too busy or something.

You get in and start doomscrolling your phone to try and calm your nerves, fidgeting slightly as you feel Vox's cum trickling from you, fuck you'd forgot your panties, adjusting your skirt uncomfortably, glad of the privacy screen you look back at your phone and yelp nearly dropping it and Vox's face appears on the screen.

Vox: "Babydoll what are you doing? You should come back to bed."

His voice is so assured you almost agree, he always had something about him that mad you want to agree to anything his said, despite your own self imposed rules about not getting attached to folk down here and only having one night stands.

You: "Sorry sir, this was a mistake, we shouldn't... Won't be doing this again... I understand I need to look for a new job tomorrow."

Vox's face frowns, and you sigh with relief thinking he's going to agree but you shriek when suddenly with a bolt and a zap to your hand he's suddenly sat beside you, having travelled through your phone.

You blush in mortification as he's still utterly bare.

You: "S-Sir... -"

Vox: "Oh no Doll, I've found something I like, and I don't give up my toys so easily, so I'm going to convince you to come back with me now, and you're going to be a good little Doll and TRUST me."

Blinking as you feel slightly dizzy, you whimper as you feel his hand sliding up your thigh, and your body is oddly limp as he spreads you open without resistance, hiking your skirt around your waist, his eyes glued to the sight of his cum dripping out of you.

Vox: "Fuck Babydoll, that's so hot. Just waiting for me really weren't you, left me a parting gift and everything."

You: "I-I never do more than one night stands."

Vox: "That's because you've always been mine, and those other idiots were too dumb to chase soothing so damn perfect."

You can't respond as his tongue eases inside your mouth and his fingers start sliding through your folds simultaneously. You hips buck and a needy whine escapes your lips.

Vox: "Now let's see how much convincing you need to come back and stay."

Your hips arch and your chest strains as he rubs teasing circles around your clit.

You: "Vox..."

Vox: "That's right Babydoll, thays exactly how you should be saying my name."

Vox keeps rubbing you, his mouth marking your shoulder as the shoulder on your shirt is ripped, but you can't think, can't mind it as he drives you closer and closer to your peak.

The squelch of his fingers sliding into you is embarrassingly loud and he chuckles against your neck, which is bent at such an odd but accommodating angle.

Your moans increase as his fingers fucks you more relentlessly now, your clit feeling puffy and swollen as his thumb doesn't stop tormenting it too.

You hand grabs his wrist for grounding and you feel the flex of his tendons and muscles at work as he drives his digits deep inside you.

You : "Oh fuck."

Vox: "Don't worry, Doll, we will, again."

Your other hand is grabbed and placed right on his hard cock, the rigid member throbbing in your grasp and you cry out as your fall apart all over Vox's fingers.

Twitching and spasming, you swear you hear him gasp as the grip of your hand on his cock matches that of your cunt on his fingers.

Vox: "Perfect little Doll, now you're coming home with me aren't you, and you're going to be a good Toy and not leave."

Absently you nod, and don't even notice as you end up within moments on a plush bed, clothing shredded, and crying out his name once more as his cock starts fucking his own cum even deeper inside you.

Vox: "Trust me, Babydoll, you're staying right here where you belong... Mine."

*The driver had been hired by Vox and was literally circling the streets, that's why they never arrived anywhere 😂

[roughcass]

Dottore x fem!reader smut.

Warnings: NSFW, fingering, thigh stuff, teasing, very verbal (dirty talk is hot!!) asphroic, not proof read, photos taken, idk.

Footsteps echoed the room. A few years ago, you never expected this to be your life. A doctors pet. A fatui's pet. Honestly, it's not that bad. It was either this, or get killed. You're fed multiple times a day with many options, and the doctor is sweet on you so there's not much to complain about. Well, sweet in his own ways. He'll never give you something that'll hurt you - that he knows of. A sigh escapes his lips as he removes his mask, eyes scanning the room. Once the piercing red eyes hits you, "Come here." he says while taking a seat at his desk.

So that's what you did without hesitation. Years of fear, respect, and not wanting to complicate things does that to a person. You scrambled up onto his lap, and he immediately wrapped his arms around your waist, his cold hands making you shiver. He placed his head on top of yours, pressing your body against his as he spoke. "I need you to do something for me. No, really, don't worry. It's just a favor." You knew what this meant. You were now the ongoing experiment. "What is it, doctor?"

One of his hands left your waist and went to the pocket of his lab coat. He took something out and held it to your face, looking closely at your reaction. It was a pill, coloured pink with the symbol of the Fatui on it. "Say ah?" Fear bubbled inside of you, you never had seen a pill this color from them. Impatience bubbled inside him,"Just take it, come on. I know you trust me, right? After all, it's me. I wouldn't hurt you." You wanted to run. This wasn't a good idea, but what other choices were there? At least every time he uses you nothing goes wrong and it brings fun to your day. You open your mouth, staring at him as he places the pill in your mouth. Almost instantly you feel it, this weird bubble inside of you. You're unsure of what it's doing just yet.

"Just be patient..." He gave you a small pat on the head, seeming strangely affectionate. "It should start kicking in soon. I don't want to rush the process, y'know? Just want to see how you react to it." "Are you going to tell me what it's supposed to do?" "Of course! But we need to wait and see the effects first. After all, we can't predict how you'll react. It's all part of the experiment and observation." He gave you another pat on the head, his hands coming up to cup your face.

"Stay close to me, okay? Just stay close to me." Almost without hesitation the words slip your mind. "I don't want to leave you." once processing what you said, a shriek escaped. Dottore froze, his hold over you still tight yet suddenly rigid. A faint smile appeared on his lips, slowly growing bigger and bigger. "Now that's interesting..." "I didn't mean to say tha-" "Oh, but I know you did..." His grip tightened once again, not letting you move. "You don't have to hide your feelings from me... You're my little experiment after all." There it was. The words that broke the dam. "I need you so bad," you lost control of everything you wanted to say. The deep down true desire for him was slipping out.

"There we go.." His hand moved to your cheek, stroking your face gently. "That's the real you... That's the real you..." He lifted your chin up, looking into your eyes. "You want me so badly right now, don't you?" Afraid of words, all you could do was nod. A hum escaped him in response, "Say it then. Say you want me." "Please, Dottore! God, I need you." "That's a good girl." He gripped you tightly, his hands moving down to your thighs. "A very good girl."

Still on his lap, your legs party slightly and of course he notices. He moves his hand to start gently rubbing your thigh, a few moans and pants escaped your mouth as he watched you with hunger. When his hand moved up higher underneath your skirt and began rubbing circles all you could do was whine out his name. "Yes? You want something?" His voice was firm, yet his eyes held an almost seductive look to it. "I can feel your heartbeat... It's starting to quicken." "Please, doctor. You know what I want..." "Do I now?" He paused for a moment before he smirked. "Say it out loud. Let's hear it." "Please, fucking touch me."

"Hm... You want my touch?" He chuckled, his hands moving back down to your thighs and gripping your waist tight. "Are you sure you want that? I can be rough, you know?" a thick tension was in the room, he knows you want it still. "Or does it not bother you?" you shake your head no. "The way I can cut you... make you bleed, take away your breath - all for an experiment, and it doesn't scare you?" another nod left your mouth. Tsk. "You really want me to?" One of his hands moved to your chin, tilting your head up so you were looking at him. "To run tests on you, on your body... Use it as my little plaything?" "Yes," "Say out loud that your body is mine." "All yours, Dottore." "Atta girl." Next thing you know you were flipped around as he grabbed you and manhandled you to the lab bed. "More comfy, eh?"

He paid attention to the fact you were dripping. Gloved fingers ran through your slickness, before he popped one in his finger staring directly into your eyes. With a groan he spoke "My, it makes you taste sweeter." A finger slides in, causing you to whine and moan instantly. "Needy off of one finger? So soon?" A few more minutes go by as he slips in another, and then one more. Three fingers inside you had you all fucked up for him, just the way he likes it. You were so close, so so close - and just like that he stopped. "W-what? n-no, go back!" A low tsk left him, as he picked up the clip board to document your reactions. "Please-" he cuts you off quickly, "Shh. Quiet." not wanting to make your situation worse you obliged.

"Thats it.." he coos, before a few long moments go by; your high complety gone. "'Tore, how much longer?" "Hm, I suppose we can make you cum, huh baby?" his fingers slide back between before going even rougher, you felt like you were getting split in half. A few more pumps and you were already cumming from his thick fingers. Drool was falling out of the side of your mouth, it felt too good. That's when you heard it. A shutter of a camera. You open your eyes to see a small device in his hands and the flash. Walking around you as if he was the earth circling the sun. Click. Click. Click. Photos upon photos were being taken of you in this comprising position. As the polarid like images slid down, you watched in horror. He bent down and picked them up before walking over to the clipboard and taping several photos on it. "No need to worry." He says nonchalantly. "For research purposes." He then walked out of the room, leaving you there. By the way he was holding the clipboard there was a photo of your messy cunt covered in your cum on the front.

[sempersirens]

a bird in your teeth, II

masterlist

summary: a night out with a friend has you reaching out for joel

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

warnings: 18+, mdni, neighbour!joel, age gap: reader is early-mid 20s, joel early 30s. no break-out. no smut (yet). allusion to SA (nothing happens)

a/n: thank you thank you thank you for the love on part one! i know there is not much joel yet, but fear not, this will be rectified fruitfully in part three <3

word count: 2.6k

After leaving Joel's place, you ran across the street to change for your night out. As usual, you turned your porch light off to indicate to Joel that you had gotten home safely, a small tradition you had kept since you first started babysitting Sarah late at night. Sometimes you would linger by the front door to watch Joel appear at his window, confirming your safe return. Whenever you caught him looking, you would wave, and he would return a small salute. That tiny movement of his hand would replay on loop all night.

Tonight, you didn't have time to stay and check, but felt that familiar feeling of the hairs on the back of your neck standing to attention as you passed your living room window. You had promised your closest friend Daisy that you would head into the city with her tonight, despite it being a Thursday and you both having ungodly early morning commitments.

When it came to Daisy, you could never say no. She had these all-devouring doe eyes and a sweet Southern belle twang that only came out when she wanted something. This time, she wanted to "accidentally" bump into a guy on her course she knew would be out. Aside from Joel and Sarah, your move to Texas would have been nothing without befriending Daisy in a bar toilet. Both a couple of drinks deep at the time, she had complimented your handbag and henceforth ignited a friendship closer to sisterhood. What kind of friend would you be to turn her down in her hour of need?

Quickly changing out of your comfy chick-flick-watching and popcorn-eating attire into something revealing a little more skin, you let your hair down from your claw clip and gave it a once over with a brush. You pulled on your rite of passage cowboy boots, already sensing the shriek that would erupt from Daisy's core when she saw the fringed boots paired with your little denim mini skirt. Another thing you loved about her was how similar she was to girls back home; a true girl's girl through and through. You had spent countless late nights on one another's front porches with a bottle (or two) of wine, philosophizing over the smallest and largest dilemmas all twenty-something women toss and turn over. The future, becoming mothers some day, not becoming mothers, the next episode of The O.C., careers, husbands, whether you’d ever grow to like the taste of red wine.

A car horn beeped once outside prompting you to grab your handbag and skip out the door to the passenger's side.

"Oh, honey. Let's have a moment for the boots! Y'ready to bring this city to its knees?" Daisy giggled as you jumped in.

"Baby, you know I always am,” you chirped in your bordering offensive attempt at a Southern drawl. “So, what's this guy's name again?"

"Mark. Fancy, huh? He's in my lab group. Sometimes when we're measuring out cobalt chloride hexahydrate I look at his big strong hands and think good grief man would'ya just take me on the work bench?"

"You're preaching to the choir here, sister." You laugh. Only Daisy could say the most academic and intelligent thing in one breath to then utter some unhinged depravity in the next.

"Soooo," she longed out, taking turns looking at you and then the road and then back at you again.

"Dais, don't even-"

"How's Mr. Miller?"

You throw your head back in the same manner Sarah used to when you first knew her; when Joel would tell her to get ready for bed so that he could break open a bottle of whiskey after a long evening of barbecuing.

"He's fine, as he always is when you ask."

"Sureee. He not tried the I don't have any cash on me to pay you for looking after my kid... but I could pay you another way yet?"

"It's so not like that and you know it. Plus I don't ask him to pay me to babysit Sarah." You muttered the last part, slightly embarrassed to admit that you spent so much time with the Millers purely out of enjoyment.

"What! You're always at their damn place watching his kid while he fucks some recently divorced suburban mom."

"You think he fucks them?" You ask, with a little too much rawness to your tone.

"Oh honey, this ain't good for you. You're smitten for the bastard."

"Can we talk about something else? This is making me depressed." You forced a laugh at the patheticness of your situation. More often than not, you had to sternly remind yourself that Joel was a divorced, single father, ten years your senior, who certainly didn't share your pining for him. He had responsibilities; he was too busy to deal with your little crush, being a father and all. You told yourself it was just you projecting onto him. Probably something with a Freudian explanation.

"Alright, alright. Let's talk about Mark's friend Elijah who I am certain is out with him tonight and would eat up the whole Kate Moss meets Minnie Driver thing y'have goin' on here."

"You're just referencing the only two British women you know other than me. Anyway, he better be handsome. You always stick me with the reject friend."

"Am not and do not!" Daisy laughed, shoving your shoulder as she pulled into the bar parking lot. "I'm leaving the car here overnight, wanna have a good couple drinks. You good to get a cab back to yours later?"

"Sure thing." You said.

"Who knows, we might even get lucky." Daisy winked at you, making her way toward the entrance, a sultry but sweet swing in her hips that only she could make look so effortless.

---

Elijah wasn't exactly your type. So, you decided to keep drinking until he somewhat was.

"You're not from round here, are ya?" He asked.

You widened your eyes in mock surprise at his intellectual summation. "What gave it away?" You said dryly, not really caring for an answer. It took moving out of England to realize alcohol simply made you more British. Or a sarcastic bitch, as some had put it.

"That accent for starters. Australia home for you, sweetness?"

It was going to be a long night.

"How did you guess!" You replied, slightly repelled by the misplaced enthusiasm plastered across his face.

"Well, myself I've never been to Australia, but I sure know my way 'round down under."

You half-choked on your sip of rum and coke, which Elijah seemed to take as a win.

"Dear Lord. That's really, um, something! I need to nip to the loo. Be back in a sec." You grabbed your bag and made for the bathroom, which was temptingly close to the back exit. Weighing up your options, you decided that you couldn't leave Daisy alone with two men in the middle of the city and settled with the bathroom.

Right on cue, she bustled in behind you shrieking your name.

"For a second there I thought you were gonna leave me all by my lonesome." She shouted over the bathroom stall.

"For a second there, so did I."

"Oh come on, he's not that bad."

You flushed the toilet and flung the door open to her standing nose-to-nose with the door.

"A Soviet gulag wouldn't be that bad compared to him." You retorted, moving to wash your hands. "He's a pig! He felt up my arse twice before we even sat down."

"Okay, so - he's handsy! You haven't been gettin' much action recently, anyway. Take it as a compliment?" You turned to give Daisy a look you knew she would choose to ignore. "Please, honey. They're having a little get-together back at their apartment and I would feel so much better if you came along. It's by campus, so you don't even need to worry about missin' class tomorrow."

Once again, you felt like channeling pre-teen Sarah, fighting the urge to stomp your feet at Daisy's request. As per usual, her big pleading eyes wore down your defenses. It was so obvious she was the youngest child in her family sometimes.

"Fine. But you owe me." She squealed at your response, hugging you and kicking one knee in the air.

"Anythin', honey. A lung, even! Mark has ordered an Uber and promised there's plenty'a liquor at his place. Let's go!"

You rolled your eyes realizing the Uber had been booked before the two of you had discussed your plans.

As you walked towards the boys, who sat with their jackets already on and big grins spread across their stupid faces, your mind wandered to Joel. You wondered if he had ever brought one of his dates to a bar like this. Maybe he had taken their jacket, hung it on the coat rack, and returned to her to ask so, what you drinkin'? He would wave his hand when she offered to pay for a round or if she reached for her purse. You wondered if he ever tried his luck, touching a knee against hers underneath the table. Whether he leaned in for a kiss, or put a hand on her thigh in the cab home.

You wondered if Joel ever noticed the way your breathing sped up when he put an arm around you after a couple of drinks, or how you would blush when he paid you the odd compliment. Did he ever notice the extra skin on show when the Texas heat made dressing semi-modestly for babysitting duties impossible? Or when you would lounge around the back garden in your bikini with Sarah? Did he catch a glimpse of you in skimpy outfits and heels running from your front door to various cars or cabs, or when you would sneak back at 6am on Sunday mornings clutching the heels? The dynamic between you and Joel felt so stilted sometimes. At times, it felt as though he was holding a part of himself back. Like he was always on the cusp of telling you something, but simultaneously fighting a battle between his tongue and his head to divulge any piece of himself to you.

But other times, he didn't. Since he'd first reached out that Friday at your front door, he had never failed to be there for you. When it was the flu or homesickness, Joel was there. Last summer, you had been especially missing your grandmother's homemade tiramisu, so had scoured the local bookstores for a Nigella Lawson recipe book and made you one with Sarah. The lady finger biscuits were so soggy they had disintegrated and the taste of amaretto was too much for even you, but you cried when he brought it over, the dish covered in a bumblebee dish towel. In the colder weather, he had fixed your boiler and defrosted your pipes. And whenever he passed a fresh produce store, he would bring you figs and watermelons to remind you of your summers in Europe. When you were in the thick of writing your thesis, Joel brought you a plate of whatever he and Sarah were having for dinner, knowing fully well that you would neglect your own dinnertime to meet deadlines. Joel didn't need to thank you for helping him out with Sarah, or whatever he had meant earlier, he was always thanking you in his own little way.

"Uber's here!" Mark's exclamation brought you out of your haze. You felt a hand on your lower back, Elijah was guiding you out of the bar not-so-courteously. You couldn't help but sigh at the disparity between your daydreams about Joel and the reality of your so-called love life.

"I'm not that drunk." You muttered under your breath, hoping you were loud enough for him to get the hint. If he did hear, he didn't act upon it.

Bundling into the car, Mark sat in the front seat, and you between Daisy and Elijah.

"D'ya like her boots, Elijah?" Daisy asked sweetly, leaning across you.

"They're real nice. Would look much nicer on my floor though." Daisy squeezed your thigh as if to say don't say a word.

"They'll look even better flying towards your head." You retorted, ignoring her.

"Oh, don't mind her! She's got that famous British sense of humor."

"Well, lucky she's so damn pretty, ain't it?" Elijah responded, making your stomach turn slightly at his unrelenting forwardness.

Mark announced that you had arrived, and everyone spilled out of the car in a stupor. You were drunker than you thought.

Between Elijah lingering around you like a bad smell, Daisy and Mark feeling each other up on the sofa, and the ever-looming presence of your 9am, you decided to call it a night a little over an hour into the impromptu after-party.

"Feel free to crash in my flatmate's room rather than pay for a cab home." Mark offered. "Think I'm gonna call it a night too, kinda tired myself."

"Oh, yes! You should stay, she has class early in the morning so it only makes sense." Daisy chimed in, clinging to Mark's arm. You could only assume she also planned on staying the night, but didn't have time to answer before Mark spoke again.

"Well then, it's settled. Down the hall and first door on your left. Make yourself at home."

You were too exhausted to argue, so made your way per Mark's instructions, ignoring Elijah's puppy dog look at you leaving him high and dry. You kicked off your boots but clambered underneath the duvet with your clothes still on. The walk of shame to class tomorrow will be just great, you thought. Popping two co-codomal tablets out of your bag, you swallowed them with a glass of water from the nightstand, entirely uncaring of how long it had been sat there. You needed all the help you could get for some proper rest on the hard mattress and single, flat pillow.

The apartment fell silent soon after, aside from a few recognizable giggles and the unmistakable slam of a bedroom door. Pills finally beginning to take effect, you had started to doze off with little resistance until the bedroom door creaked open.

"Daisy?" You muttered groggily, rubbing your eyes to make out the figuring closing the door behind them. "Is everything okay?"

"It's me." The unexpected masculine voice made you lurch into a seated position, recognizing it as Elijah in the dimly lit room.

"I thought you went home." You spoke, trying to sound braver than you were feeling as the mattress dipped with his weight.

"How could I, when I knew you were in here waiting for me." Your muscles froze.

"Look - I think there's been a misunderstanding. I'm sorry, I really need to get up early. I didn't mean to lead you o..."

You were cut off by his lips clashing against yours, cutting your upper lip against your front teeth. His arms were leaning on either side of you, caging you in his embrace as your cries for him to stop went muffled and unheard. Elijah's weight shifted, moving his body on top of yours, trapping you entirely underneath him. This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening. Even if you wanted to try to push him off, your body had gone utterly lifeless in panic.

"You'll like it, sweetheart. Don't be so damn uptight." You felt sick. Your skirt was around your hips from the struggle between his body and the mattress, you were separated from him by only your panties.

He reached his hand down to palm himself through his jeans, which thanks to his undignified alcohol consumption throughout the night, was to no avail. Growing frustrated with his body's lack of cooperation, his weight on you relaxed and you took your chance to tumble out from under him.

"Where the hell are you going?" You grabbed your handbag in a haze and darted out of the door, his shouts after you growing quieter by the second.

As soon as you were out of the building, you rested your hands on your knees and emptied your stomach onto the pavement. You dreaded to think what you looked like; skirt hitched high up your thighs, no doubt mascara pouring down your cheeks, face inches away from your own vomit. You also didn't care. Silent sobs racked through your body as you tried to guide your trembling hands through your handbag to retrieve your phone. Messily scrolling down your contact list, your heart stopped at the letter J. It was the early hours of the morning, but you knew he kept his phone on during the night in case Tommy ever needed bail money.

"Hello?" His gruff voice had never sounded so sweet, the instantaneous relief that washed over your body almost brought you to your knees.

"Joel, I-I'm so sorry to call so late. It's me. Something... something's happened."

"Where are you?"

You stumbled to the nearest main road, searching for street signs. The sun was beginning to rise. You thought you might be sick again.

"West 22nd and Guadalupe." You touched a finger tentatively to your lip, not realising it had been pumping blood down your chin and onto your chest.

"You stay there, I'll be there in 15."

[storm-angel989]

How would Valentino and the other fees reacting to his daughter being insecure? Btw I love ur writing!

Hi friend, 

Aw! Thank you so much! So I recently did a thing where Vox and Velvette find out they’re going to have a child. This little fic stars Valentino x Reader’s daughter from OTO and Vox and Velvette’s daughter (her cousin).

You asked for insecure- how much more insecure can you be when you feel like your place in your Aunt and Uncle’s life is being usurped? 

Enjoy!

<3 Mandy 

My Aunt Velvette and Uncle Vox were my second parents growing up. As much as I needed my Mom and Dad, I spent just as much time in their studios, in their bedrooms, being babysat and sneaking ice cream. One of my favorite memories growing up was the weekend that both my parents went out of town and my Aunt and Uncle took me for a weekend of fun- Loo Loo World (which was much better than the knock off Loo Loo Land), ice cream, and giant sleepovers in their bed. Looking back on it, I was sure I missed my parents, but my Aunt and Uncle kept me so busy and so happy, I was too distracted to be bothered too much by their absence. 

Now that I had a baby cousin of my own, I was determined to be the cool, fun person that they were to me growing up. So whenever Aunt Velvette asked me to babysit, I took it as seriously as I could. Usually, it was just for an afternoon. But with my Mom and Dad out of town more and more often and both my Aunt and Uncle working, being a babysitter was less of a request and more of a necessity. This weekend was no different than the last. Mom and Dad were gone, and Aunt Velvette and Uncle Vox had to work, leaving me the babysitter. Again. 

“Sweetheart, if you could both come on down to my studio around 11:00, I have some modeling for her to do,” Aunt Velvette said to me. 

A twinge of unfamiliar envy settled over my stomach and I tried to push it down. There was no reason to be jealous of my cousin. Aunt Velvette and Uncle Vox told me before she was born that I would always be their little girl too, and always be loved just as much. It was probably toddler modeling, a clothing line I was too old for anyway. But as I wiped the crumbs off the three year olds face and took her hand in mine as we stepped onto the elevator, the feeling grew ever so slightly stronger. 

“Mommy!” the little girl shrieked as soon as the elevator door opened. 

She released my hand and took off across the studio. I hurried behind her, but to my dismay, she ran right into her Mom and wrapped her head in her skirt. 

“Sorry, Auntie Vel,” I apologized, “she just wanted you.”

“No matter, I need her anyway,” Velvette replied as she lifted her daughter up and cuddled her to her chest. “Did you have a good morning baby? Did you? Tell Mummy all about it.” 

I watched as she carried her across the studio and after a moment, I followed behind. The longer I stayed, the worse I felt. I loved my little cousin, but part of me wished my own parents were nothing more than an elevator ride away. My mom worked in another building, and more often than not was gone for periods of time. And I wasn’t allowed in my father’s studio under any circumstances. There would be no mid-day mom hugs for me- something my cousin was currently relishing in. I could feel the envy slowly start to melt into something else. Sadness, maybe? 

“Hey, Aunt Vel? I know I said I’d babysit, but if she’s doing a shoot with you do I need to stay? If not, I’d like to go swim some laps at school while the pool is still open,” I said as I watched Velvet lace up the back of my cousin's dress. 

“Hmm? Oh, sure, I don’t need you here. Go do whatever it is you want to do,” she replied, her eyes on her daughter. “Baby, smile, you look beautiful darling, Mummy loves you so much!” 

I turned and walked away silently, my heart heavy in my chest. I had two parents who loved me more than anything, so why did I feel so bad? I trudged up the stairs, tossed my swimming gear in my back and paged a limo to take me to school. Maybe a little swim would actually make me feel better.

Two hours later I had more than lost count of how many laps I had swam. Not that it mattered, my VoxTech watch kept track when I couldn’t. Body shaky, I pulled myself up on the deck and took a drink out of my water bottle as I hit the reset button. My body was definitely tired, but the feeling of sadness hadn’t gone away yet. With a sigh, I lowered myself back into the water and slid my goggles back over my eyes. Maybe another few laps would help. 

I dove under and pushed my body through the fatigue. At the end of the lane, I flipped and made my way back down. To my surprise, a familiar hand waved in the water and I stopped and lifted my goggles up as I caught my breath. 

“Uncle Vox? What are you doing here?” I asked.

“Your Aunt sent me to check on you. She said you sounded a little off this morning, and it looks like you’ve been swimming for awhile- why don’t you get out and take a break for a little bit?” He suggested gently. “Come on, I brought you a snack. And if you’re going to work your body this hard, you need to fuel it.” 

Part of me wanted to scramble up out of the pool and take him up on his offer. But another part of me, a bigger part of me, didn’t want his attention. Or Aunt Vel’s, for that matter. I wanted this icky feeling inside of me to go away. 

“I’m fine, Uncle Vox. Really. You can tell Aunt Velvette that too,” I replied as I swam backwards. “I’ll be home later, I promise.”  I slipped my goggles back down over my eyes. Without another word, I dove back under the water. 

Another hour passed. Then two. Finally, I hit my limit. My body shook and any feeling I had was long gone, replaced by sheer exhaustion. I lifted myself out of the pool, swung my body around to face the lanes, and leaned forward as I caught my breath.  I closed my eyes and to my surprise, I felt a towel over my shoulder. 

“You know, you’re going to have to talk at some point. You can’t exercise your problems away,” Vox’s voice was soft. 

“Nothing’s wrong, Uncle Vox. Nothing happened, I just…I want to do really well this season,” I replied as I wiped my eyes with my towel. To my dismay, the feeling of sadness flooded back and I squeezed my eyes shut.  “I’m fine.”

“That’s not the voice of someone who’s fine,” he said softly. “Come on baby, talk to me.” 

“Nothing happened,” I said sharper than I meant to.

“Didn’t say it did,” he replied calmly. “But something is bothering you. Come on, spit it out.”

I bit the inside of my cheek. “No, cause it won’t come out right. Uncle Vox, I just…I just want to go home, okay? Leave me alone.” 

Instead, he sat down next to me. 

“Then don’t worry about it coming out right. Just let it out, sweetheart. You’ll feel better, I promise,” he told me gently. “Come on, we don’t keep secrets from each other, do we?”

Slowly, I shook my head no. 

“Right, sweetheart. Now isn’t any different. So spill, kiddo,” he put his hand on my shoulder. “Come on, I’m listening.”

“It’s not fair that….I just…I wish my mom and dad paid as much attention to me as you guys do to your daughter,” I blurted out. “It isn’t fair that she gets to go and see her mom and dad whenever she wants and my mom isn’t here half the time and I’m not allowed in my dads studio! It’s not fair and I hate it!” 

That icky feeling washed over me and I could feel the tears start to burn.  I scrambled to my feet and turned to run towards the locker room. 

Vox’s hand caught my arm and he pulled me back. 

“Hey, babygirl, it’s okay,” he said softly. “Hey, I’m here. Reader. Reader, listen to me. I’m here.” He wrapped me in his arms and pushed my head to his chest as he held me. 

“I love her and I love you guys and I’m sorry,” I choked out. “I just, I wish…”

“And we love you,” he said quietly as he held me. “We love you honey.”

“I’m sorry,” I said as I tried to rub my eyes. “Uncle Vox, I love her and,”

“And no one thinks you don’t. It’s a hard adjustment, especially when you see her start doing things that you used to do,” he said gently. “But you don’t need to feel insecure or unsure about your place in our lives, baby. We love you very, very much.” He kissed the top of my head and gave me a gentle squeeze. “But whenever you do feel sad, or insecure or even jealous, you need to come tell us. Not work yourself into exhaustion.” He pulled off his jacket and took the wet towel from around my shoulders before draping the dry coat over me. “Come on sweetheart, let’s get you home.” 

One hour, a bottle of red gatorade and a hot shower later, I felt a little bit better. Dressed in my pajamas, I made my way out to the living room. 

“Reader!” My cousin screamed as soon as she saw me. “Reader! I made you a picture!”

I looked down at the pink and purple scribbles etched on a piece of paper. I swallowed as guilt washed over me. How could I have ever been jealous of her? 

“Thanks,” I muttered. “I’m going to go put it in my room.” 

I turned and made my way back to my bedroom. I closed the door behind me, turned off the lights, set her picture on my desk and climbed under the covers. The icky feeling had returned full force and I wanted nothing more than to be alone. 

Unfortunately, my Aunt Velvette had other plans. The bedroom lights flicked on and I shut my eyes tight. 

“Oh stop, we both know you’re not sleeping,” Velvette’s voice scolded lightly. “Sit up, your Uncle made you soup. He said you needed something in your system and you probably weren't up for much. So come on, sit up now.”

Reluctantly, I sat up and she pressed a warm mug into my hands before perching herself on the edge of the bed.

“Drink up,” she told me. “I want every drop gone.”

Reluctantly, I took a sip. The feeling of warmth exploded on my tongue and before I knew it, it was empty. Velvette took the mug from my hand and set it on the nightstand.

“That’s a good girl, now snuggle under the covers,” she told me. 

“Aunt Vel? Did you…did you talk to Uncle Vox?” I asked as she tucked the covers in around me. 

She kissed my forehead. “I did. Love, it’s okay to feel those feelings. But we need to talk about them, not punish our bodies. I wouldn’t be surprised if you still feel icky, but I promise a good night's sleep and you’ll feel much, much better.” 

“Okay,” I replied softly. “Good night, Aunt Velvette.” 

“Goodnight sweetheart,” she replied. 

I heard her footsteps shuffle across the room and the lights clicked off. I snuggled under my covers and closed my eyes tightly. Maybe Aunt Velvette was right. Maybe I would feel better in the morning.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The DUFF 5

Warnings: groping, insecurity, food and body issues, and the usual. Proceed with caution.

Feedback is always welcome. Love you and thanks for the wonderful responses so far.♥♥♥♥

Image credit (I want to give dues where due but don’t want the creator to keep getting tagged in my posts as I have been approached by some before that they don’t want me in their notifs)

Curtis takes your plate and empty glass. The tension thickens as your impatience mounts. You really just want to get out of here. You want to go home and wash the night off of you.

You struggle to come up with a smooth exit line so you grab your phone. You have a voicemail from Andy. You hit one to listen to it and put the speaker to your ear. It’s the typical far, call back if you’re available to come in. You really don’t feel like it but it would be a good excuse. Too bad you’re a bad liar.

You hit delete and lean your arm against the side of the couch.

“Boss calling again? Sure seems desperate.”

You look at Curtis sharply, once more frightened by his silent entrance. Your lips part as you weigh the lie on the tip of your tongue. You just want to go, no need to make it that complicated.

You stand up and squeeze your phone tight, pressing it against your skirt, “thanks for breakfast.”

“Yeah, no problem, it was good?”

“Very, uh,” you gaze around and try to wet your dry mouth, “it was nice. All of it, but I should get go–”

“I can drive you home,” he offers, “I’d hate for you to waste the money on a cab.”

“N-no, that’s… that’s fine. I couldn’t–”

“You know, you don’t have to go right away,” he gets closer, “I don’t know…” he’s right in front of you, closing you in by the couch, “I had fun, didn’t you?”

“Uh, yeah,” your words squeak thinly, “but I…”

“We could have a bit more,” his eyes plunge down hungrily.

“I… right,” you giggle softly, nervously, “I really think I should shower–”

“I have a shower,” he insists. “Come on, Bunny,” he reaches out to pinch a fold in your skirt, “just a little more…”

“Curtis, I… you’re a really nice guy…”

“And…” he brings his other hand up and frames your hip, his eyes stormy as he watches how he touches you, “...I got a really nice…” he urges you back until your legs touch the front of the sofa, “mouth…”

He squeezes your hips and sits you down. You find it hard to resist as his warmth swallows you and his thumbs press into you, sending a fiery twang through you. You catch yourself against the couch and gasp.

His hands quickly glide down and he bunches up your skirt in his fists. He squeezes and gives a growl. You spread your hands across the fabric to keep him from pushing it higher.

“Curtis, please,” your voice warbles, “I don’t–”

“Please,” he bats his dark lashes up at you, “I’m not ready to let you go, bunny.”

“I…”

You don’t know what to say. You’re tired, you feel dirty, and quite frankly, you’re not sure how much more you can take. More, deep down, you’re a bit scared. He’s awake now, he’s sober, he’s seen you, and you’re just waiting for him to realise what you are.

“I want a taste, bunny,” he leans forward to nuzzle your chest, “Can I…”

You’re frozen. Your fingers tingle and wiggle, your heart hammers, and your head spins. You’ve never had a guy act this way with you. Insatiable, almost desperate.

“You’re so pretty, baby,” he trails a hand up to cup your chest, “Didn’t I tell you that?” He fondles you and kisses your chest through your shirt. “You want me to tell you again, you’re so beautiful, so sexy…”

He squeezes your chest and nudges your back against the couch. He bends his neck as his other hand inches up your thigh, parting it from the other. Your leg twitches and you hold your breath. Protests shriek in your head but they just won’t come out.

He flips up your skirt and you let out a pathetic noise. You clutch the pleating of your skirt and the cushion beside you. He bows and you feel his breath as he opens you up to him. You watch him, a vibrant sensation rolls over you and it’s as if you’re both trapped in your own body and watching yourself from afar.

His fingers flutter along your folds and exhales over you, his heat dampening the trim of hair along your cunt. He spreads you with his rough touch and glides his tongue between your lips. He flicks down your clit and back up, swirling around your cluster of nerves until you buck. You moan as ripples radiate from your core.

“Please…” you give one last weak plea.

“You’re so good, baby,” he speaks to your cunt, his lips tickling you, “fucking delicious, you know that?”

He spreads his tongue and tastes you, lapping as his other hand grips your side. His long thumb digs into your stomach as he holds you in place. You quiver as he seals his lips around your clit and sucks, pressure pinpointing at your most tender spot. You whine and stretch your hand over the soft hair at his crown.

He hums and delves into your more eagerly. He wiggles his head empathically as the noise of his mouth underlines your droning mewls. You sink back into the couch, almost vibrating as you’re overcome by his diligent doting.

[acourtofinkandpapyrus]

My Little Shadow: Part seven (Azriel x Reader)

Warnings: Not really any, just Y/N having a deep mistrust of the inner circle.

Part six

Part eight

After walking through Velaris with Azriel, the highlord and highlady have some questions...

Tag list: @mis-lil-red @bubybubsters

“So, what do you think?”  Azriel asked again.  I hadn’t registered his question the first time, too overwhelmed with the beautiful city I was now in.

“It’s wonderful.”  I speak softly, and I wonder if he would ever hear me over the sounds of people talking. Females laughing, and children shrieking with joy.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen such unrestrained happiness like this, it has always been too dangerous.

This though…

I kept wandering through the streets, staring into different shop windows and walking through the crowds of happy people.  I wished I could join in with some of the females, talking and laughing.

I clenched my fists, trying to stay in the moment.

“How has this place not been found?”  I ask Azriel, who’s watching me with that classic blank stare.  I had to learn how to do that.

“It’s a mixture of knowing who to trust with it’s secret, and centuries of powerful spells bound to this place.  Anyone not welcome who get close, will find themselves wanting to leave and go elsewhere.”  He said, smiling a little bit as a little girl walked up to him, giving him a flower.

He took it, smiling back at the little girl as she giggled, running off once more into the crowd.

I watched him for a moment longer, twirling the white lilly between his scarred fingers.  I realize that I hadn’t noticed those swirling scars before, which seems strange.

As I start to look up, I meet his eyes.

Shit.

He stands up to his full height, and I stiffen, not knowing what he’s going to do.  “I- I’m sorry- I didn’t mean to stare, I was just curious-”

I try not to start crying.  I finally found someone who I could trust, and I already fucked it up.  He was going to drag me back or just leave me here now, I could already see it.

His eyes softened as he saw me draw back.  “I’m not upset.”

I froze, taking deep calming breaths as I nodded.  “Oh… Uh, okay.”  I said, suddenly awkward.  I didn’t know what to do in this situation.

I could see him thinking about something, then he seemingly came to a decision because he held out his hands for me to examine.

Reaching out slowly, as to give him the opportunity to draw back if he wished.  And when he doesn’t, I take his hand in mine, tracing the patterns gently.

His scars are so beautiful, much like him.

I had changed back at the house, Azriel insisting I get out of that ridiculous wedding dress before heading outside.

I had chosen a long sleeve shirt and skirt that barely showed my feet.  I wondered what he would think of my scars, if he would see that they had a story behind them, just like his.

I dropped his hand after a minute.  “Thank you.”

He seems a bit surprised.  “Are you not going to ask?”

I shake my head, knowing what he's asking.  “If you want to tell me, I’m okay with that, but I already can tell this isn’t something you tell everyone.”

He’s speechless, his mouth slightly open as he looked down at me with such curiosity I had to try not to blush.

“So this is our new shadowsinger.” An elegant and silky voice says from behind me, and I can’t help but to stiffen up as I whirl around.

It’s the highlord.

But he doesn’t have his usual terrifying presence.  No, instead of the sharp, dark cloth the usually adorns his toned figure, he wore a light shirt with brown pants, his high lady next to him, wearing a paint stained sweater with loose pants.

And behind them, little Nyx was peering around his mothers legs.

I try not to gape at the sight.

I realized that I hadn’t bowed yet, and went to do so, but Azriel’s hand on my back stopped me.

“This is Y/N.  She wanted to explore, so I thought I’d come with her.”  Azriel says, keeping me close.

I couldn’t help but feel as if he was taking up on my behalf.

My highlord stares at me, his violet eyes searching me for some sort of ill intent.

“Rhys, take it easy on her, she’s obviously overwhelmed already.”  I do gape this time as the high lady speaks with such softness before turning to me.

“I’m Feyre, we’re so happy that you’re here now.”  She said taking one of my hands in hers and shaking it gently.

I nod, a little bit breathless.  “It’s a pleasure to meet you also Hig- Feyre.”

She smiles at my almost use of her title, and I blush, wondering how I ended up in front of the most powerful highlord and highlady, on a first name basis no less.

“I know that you’re probably still a little shaken up, we were wondering if you could answer some of our questions?”  Feyre asked gently, as if I was a small animal, easily startled.

I didn’t want to be that anymore.  I want to be more than the cowering doe in the spotlight.

So I stand up straight.  “That’s perfectly fine.  In fact, I think I still need to fulfill my end of the bargain with Azriel.”

Rhysands eyes flared with shock, whipping his head to look at Azriel, who just shrugged like it was any other day.

I looked at Feyre, who had a bit of a mischievous smile on her face.  “He did tell you about our deal, right?”

She chuckled, shaking her head before shooting me an especially amused look.  “Not a word.”

Oh mother above.  First he caught me staring at him, now I’ve got him into real trouble.

I watch Azriel and Rhysand stare at each other for a minute, and I wonder what punishment his highlord will dole out, but he only sighs.

“I know you keep a lot of things to yourself brother, but I would appreciate it if you warn me next time you go around making deals with random strangers.”

Maybe he was nice, like they had all said.  I was still wary though.

Azriel chuckled, drawing my eyes back to him.  “Sorry.  I didn’t think it would go this far.”

Right.  Of course.

It was never part of his plan to bring me to this beautiful place, to save me from the snow.  Now I wonder if the only reason he had saved me in the first place is because I had yet to fulfill my end of the bargain.

The happy feeling that had begun to appear in my chest dissipated in an instant.  Of course that was it.

I looked to Feyre again, and I decided right then and there that no matter how nice they all appeared, I couldn’t trust them.  Any of them.

Just because they could put on a happy show, didn’t mean they weren’t just as cruel as they appeared in Hewn City.

“So do you want to do this here?”  I ask Feyre, letting her hear how on edge I was on.

Instead of getting angry like I half expected, she looked at me with more pity.  I hated it.

“Let’s head back to the town house, where you were staying before.”  Feyre said, walking up next to me.  “Everything will be alright, I promise.”

[rustboxstarr]

🍃Things I think about🍃

Some short Eddie Munson scenarios that I think about :)

Pairings: Eddie Munson x Female plus size reader

CW: allusions to smut, talk of pregnancy, crying, reader having an OF, reader isn't stated as plus size but has plus size qualities, reader has multiple body modifications, probably more hahah

A/N: Thank you so much for the support I love you all sm!! Don't worry if your ask hasn't been answered (None of them have, sorryyyy Im a slow writer) they're in the process and will be answered ❤️

These are just small scenarios but please comment if I should do a part two or even make fics of them (if so comment which one)

Love yas!

Check out my other works!

🍃 Waking up late in the afternoon and finding Eddie isn’t next to you in bed. Not thinking much of it you groggily get up, figuring he’s brewing coffee or just sat watch tv in the living room. Adjusting your baggy boxers that had twisted themselves around your thighs in the night. You walk out the door. Hair in a mess, curls pulled straight, frizzy baby hairs, scruffy ends. The trailer was warm last night, and there was certainly no need for anything other than those boxers. Sighing and stretching broadly, tits on full display, in your specific stretching position quite perky as you walk into the kitchen. 

It’s weirdly quiet… no coffee brewing, no tv on, that’s when you open your eyes properly to see  a picnic table set up with six kids sitting around it staring awestruck at you. Your eyes go wide and you panic and duck down behind the counter. 

“Eddieeee…” a cautious question “EDDIE!” A shriek now. Eddie stumbles awkwardly out of the bathroom. “What? What!?”

🍃Being friends with Eddie and thinking nothing of it when you open the front door after the bell rang, only wearing a sports bra and sweatpants. “Munson” you step away from the door walking back to the kitchen “Fancy seeing you here, what can I do for you?” No answer, just big watery eyes staring at you dumbstruck, still stood awkwardly in the doorway “ehe you good?…” you laugh awkwardly. Eddie clears his throat, tossing his shoes off “uhuh” is all the response you get as he swallows thickly. 

🍃 Eddie lies spread out on the bed, legs apart, you come in and lie down resting your head on his crotch. “What are you doing?”

 “you lay on my stomach all the time” you reason 

“yeah well you don’t have a dick, you’re making me hard” 

“oh really, is my face so close to your cock making you all nervous?” you tease.

🍃You on all fours in front of the mirror twerking “what are you doing?” his hand resting on his crotch “I’m bored” “continue, I’ll just be here” whips his cock out and starts stroking it PFFT 

🍃Reader dresses very formal for her job, she’s like a teacher or something. You befriend Eddie and one day forget your phone in the breakroom, Eddie who’s also a teacher finds it and brings it to your house. Instead of seeing you in a tight pencil skirt, a cream blouse and strappy heels, you open the door, hair all disheveled in a high messy bun to keep it out of your face while cleaning your house, multiple ear piercings usually hidden by your hair at work, various rings, crosses and jems littering your ears, a septum which must usually be flipped up in your nose to hide it, dressed in a baggy tank top and little booty shorts, body littered with tattoos. When Eddie first has sex w u, the formally dressed teacher he discovers your nipples are pierced as well as your navel and as if that didn’t blow his mind enough so is your clit. All body modifications fit to hide under your clothes.

🍃OMFG Eddie meeting Steve’s friend, you, and at some point your tattoo is accidentally revealed and he’s like out loud “cool tattoo, funny it looks familiar” you laugh, joking around “maybe you’ve seen me in porn or something” it’s a joke, to the others but you’re secretly wondering if he has seen you in porn, not porn but your only fans.

 🍃 your mom storming into your bedroom because Dustin told her Eddie was asleep in your bed. “Damn it’s 7 am” you say as you rub your eyes of sleep, Eddie passed out naked next to you on his stomach, you're quick to pull the blanket up to properly cover his ass.

🍃Ripping the door open to the small trailer and barging inside you find Wayne startled into sitting upright from his slouched position on the couch watching a soap opera. “Is he here?” You grit, “um he’s in his room, what’s going on???” He asked utterly baffled, he’s met you a few times, from what he could tell you weren’t together or even friends, more like acquaintances, and each time he’d seen you it was briefly, surrounded by the rest of your mutual friends or sneaking out of Eddie's bedroom at three in the morning accidentally stumbling into Wayne coming home from his night shift. 

You don’t answer him, instead you stomp down to the left, opening Eddie's bedroom door just as you had the front door, there he is, the bastard just relaxing in sweatpants low on his hips reading a comic book. “You!” You shout as you step foot over the threshold that is his dump of a bedroom. Eddie perks up surprised, putting his comic book away. “You motherfucker!” He frowns at you, you’re seething, fists clenched, stood in boxers and an oversized Magnum PI shirt, tattered and covered in holes. You hadn’t bothered getting dressed before storming out of the bathroom and running to your car. 

“You got me pregnant!” You shout, a blood red painted finger pointing accusingly at him. That’s when Eddie properly sits up, his eyes darting between you and his uncle baffled and awkward staring at you in a daze. 

“What?” He gasps “You said you wore a condom!” You continued shouting, no care in the world that his uncle was stood witnessing the whole ordeal. “I did!” Eddie was so confused and starting to panic as he stood up too fast. “Well clearly something went wrong cuz’ I’m fucking pregnant Eddie!” 

“Are.. are you sure?..” Eddie asked, stepping closer to you, carefully inching his arms closer to wrap around you. He looked over at his uncle, a small nod of his head to try and signal for him to give you both some privacy.

“Yes I’m fucking sure you idiot!” You thrust the pregnancy test that was in your grasp at his chest. As he stares down at the test you begin pacing. “I’m 19 and fucking pregnant” your eyes begin to tear up “I can’t go to fucking collage or get a good paying job now, I can’t even get a good job to pay for this stupid thing!” Eddie drops the test on his bed as he makes a new attempt at approaching you, this time successful as he wraps his arms around your arms to keep you compressed against him. 

“Do… do you want to keep it?” He asks in a whisper. “Well I can’t fucking abort it! I don’t have the fucking money for that! And neither do you!” You begin sobbing now. Grasping onto his shoulder blades in stress. Eddie hushes you, “Ok listen, just sit down, I’ll go make you some tea or something and we can talk about this, yeah?” His hand is cradling your head against his chest while you work yourself up into panic mode, the other hand rubbing up and down your back. 

“Okay..” you sniffle as you release him. Once you’re seated on the bed Eddie rushes out of the room, his heart slows from its panic slightly when he sees Wayne is already putting the boiler on. “I’m gonna go out for a bit, give y’all some privacy but when I come back you bet’r have a plan, alright?” Wayne says sternly as he deadpans Eddie. All he can do is nod rapidly as Wayne makes his way to the door, in the other room you’re crawling into a fetal position sobbing into Eddie's pillow as you comfort yourself.

[satansapostle6]

fire and ice | james cook

Cook’s interest is piqued when an old childhood friend moves in across the street.

Warning: Mature themes/language. Drug use. Sexual content.

part three.

part four. safe space.

“Where are we going?” Tiff complained, cigarette in hand as she and Cook trudged along.

Cook might as well have been a mile ahead of her.

“You’ll see!” he called as he walked ahead of her, too giddy to concentrate.

“I don’t want to walk anymore!” she called, trailing behind him as she haphazardly switched between halves of the sidewalk like a swerving car.

“What’s the problem?” he asked, stopping as he turned to face her.

He looked at her with curiosity, observing her pouty expression.

“My feet hurt!” she told him.

He looked down and realized that she was wearing platform heels.

“Well, fuck, Tiffy, why didn’t you tell me earlier?” he questioned, walking back to where she was.

“I did! Twice now. You just weren’t paying attention.”

“Ah, I’m sorry. Here you are, little one!” he said with a drunken excitement as he approached her.

Tiff shrieked in surprise as Cook sloppily knelt down and wrapped his arms around her body, lifting her up off the ground completely. He threw her over his shoulder like a towel, refusing to stop, not even adjusting so that she wasn’t obstructing his vision. He consented to continue like that, swinging her around like a ladder he was carrying as he made turns.

“Cookie!” she exclaimed. “Put me down!”

“Why?” he challenged.

“Because! You can’t see where you’re going!” she reasoned.

“Ah, I don’t need to see where I’m going!” he insisted. “I’m fucking Cook!”

He continued announcing himself like a Pokémon, carrying Tiff over his shoulder all the way to the pub he was headed to.

“Hey! My skirt’s riding up!” she told him.

“You’re welcome, Bristol,” was all he had to say.

Everyone who passed them seemed annoyed, or at least confused, by what was happening. After all, it was about 5:00 on a Monday. No one seemed keen on ducking beneath the seventeen year-old girl’s swinging legs or listening to Cook’s screaming of various classic rock hits, or Tiffany’s loud laughter, which Cook was glad to be extracting.

“Keith!” Cook greeted the man who was strangely like his father as he finally set Tiff down on the floor.

She brushed herself off with some embarrassment, playfully rolling her eyes at Cook.

“Who’s the lovely lady?” the older man asked in a friendly manner.

“This, Keith, is the lovely Tiff!” Cook responded, “Who I am not shagging, because we are just friends,” he announced to the entire room.

No one even responded; Tiff could tell that this was definitely the kind of place where worst outbursts would be had still without affecting anything much.

“Freddie! JJ!” Cook said distractedly as he spotted his friends.

Tiffany followed him to a booth where two other boys their age were waiting.

“There you are, Cook,” Freddie McClair remarked. “Tiff,” he greeted her with a friendly smile.

“Hey, Cook.” JJ added shyly, “Hi, Tiff.”

“Hello, boys,” Tiff smiled, accepting as two beers were instinctively served to her and Cook, who began downing his automatically.

Although Freddie was much more discreet and indifferent than JJ, both boys seemed to be momentarily distracted before they promptly remembered that Tiff was a friend. Cook looked over in amusement as JJ seemed to have a hard time lifting his eyes up to Tiff’s face.

“I can see her undergarments,” he whispered to Freddie, who nearly choked on his drink, “Is that intentional?”

Freddie leaned in, whispering facetiously as Cook laughed. “Yes.”

JJ gulped visibly. Tiff didn’t seem to mind, sitting down as she silently prompted for Cook to do the same. The boys exchanged casual remarks before the other girls eventually all showed up. Tiff felt a cold, sneaky hand on her shoulder, and didn’t have to look up.

“Hey, Eff,” she grinned, as Effy Stonem took the empty seat beside her, Pandora trailing along as usual.

Effy sat down in silence as Katie Fitch took the chair next to Panda, seeming eager as usual.

“Hey, Effy,” she smiled, as her twin sister Emily sat down.

Effy didn’t have anything to say to Katie.

“Hi, Tiff!” Pandora said loudly after greeting each of the boys, individually.

“Hi, Panda,” Tiff said with a smile.

Out of everyone, she loved Pandora the most; Pandora was a beautifully weird girl who mostly went unappreciated, especially by Effy, but Tiff saw her. Panda, of course, was always very excited about this.

“So, Tiff!” Panda said, unintentionally cutting through everyone else’s side conversations. “Are you and Cook making monkey?!”

Katie nearly spit out beer as everyone looked between Tiff and Cook. Cook looked to his ‘friend and only friend’ with a grin, as Tiff just chuckled at Pandora’s adorable attempt at girlhood.

“No, Panda, we are not,” she promised her. “Unless you count Cook’s dreams.”

There were a couple amused smirks around the table, as Cook laughed, welcoming the subject.

“Now that you mention it, actually,” he spoke up, Derby accent thicker the more he drank, “I had this great one about us last night, in a field! It was beautiful! Flowers growing around us, and everything! Even got to whip it out and compare with a horse!” Cook said stupidly as Freddie just shook his head.

No one could really tell if this was true to any degree. Most knew him too well to say ‘no’ automatically.

*****

In the later hours, the girls, except for Effy, had disappeared, and the group had ended up in Freddie’s shed, the designated hangout spot belonging to him, Cook, and JJ. Everyone was considerably drunk and smoking, except for JJ, who seemed much more alert. There was a very intimate party happening.

More mellow music was playing, and Effy was swaying along, fairly out of her mind as Freddie just watched her, fascinated. Cook was sitting in a chair, bored and spectating, while Tiff enjoyed a cigarette, aimlessly wandering about the messy room, high. She eventually stopped and settled on a place to stand, watching, fascinated, as JJ showed her his various magic tricks while Cook laughed.

“That’s brilliant, JJ!” Tiff exclaimed happily at his conclusion.

“Not really,” he blushed at the compliment, “It’s really quite elementary…”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Tiff said sympathetically, “You’re really quite entertaining. I could watch you for hours.”

“Really?” he asked almost in disbelief. “They’re just basic tricks…”

“Not just the tricks,” she corrected him, “You.”

“Me?” he inquired, not understanding.

“Yeah. There’s something cool about you, you know?” she asked. “Like, your delivery, or something.”

“Me? There’s something cool about me?” he clarified.

“Yes, there is,” Tiffany assured him patiently.

“Sorry,” he apologized hastily, “People hardly think so. Especially girls.”

“Well, that’s a shame,” Effy chimed in as she stopped dancing for a moment as she looked around, messing with Freddie’s belongings scattered around the room. “Girls ought to pay attention to you.”

“W-Why?” JJ wondered.

“Because you’re everything,” Tiff replied simplistically. “Sweet. Funny. Charming. Smart… You’re everything other people have to pretend to be get girls.”

“No one thinks I’m those things,” he laughed nervously.

“We do,” Effy supplied platonically.

“Well, how would anyone else know that?”

“I have an idea,” Effy said humorously, holding up a digital camera she’d found.

JJ had no idea what was going on as Tiff chuckled, her intoxicated brain catching onto what was going on in Effy’s. Cook was sitting forward, curious as he tuned into the conversation.

“W-What’s the idea?” he looked between them.

Effy just chuckled lightly, standing beside JJ as she held the camera up, snapping a quick photo as she suddenly leaned in, pressing a sweet kiss to JJ’s cheek. The camera caught his reaction just in time as his eyes widened and he looked as if he were about to faint. Cook’s laughter rang throughout the room as Freddie just observed, seeming envious of JJ.

“Oh,” the startled boy said, feeling undeserving.

“You know what’s even better than one girl?” Effy asked him.

“…What?”

“Two,” Tiff smiled, taking her place on JJ’s other side as she also lightly pressed her lips to his cheek, as Effy did the same again and took a picture to commemorate the moment.

Effy took the camera and showed the picture to Tiff, who chuckled fondly.

“Wow!” JJ said blankly, as Cook just watched him. “T-Two girls at once!”

Cook burst out laughing again as JJ once again failed to hear himself out loud.

“See, JJ?” Tiff said playfully. “You’re a stud.”

“I don’t feel like one,” he admitted, sitting down in fefeat.

Both girls sat down on either side of him, trying to be of support in their own unique ways. Tiff chuckled sympathetically, now visibly high as she seemed to genuinely feel for him.

“Oh, I could kiss you,” she cooed affectionately, very obviously not sober.

“Same here,” Effy said softly.

JJ’s eyes widened as he quickly looked back and forth between the two girls, as Cook sat forward, literally on the edge of his seat.

“Fucking hell, this is turning into real life porno,” he realized.

“I-I wouldn’t mind it if you did!” JJ jumped at the opportunity.

Effy smirked at his naïveté, taking his hand in hers as she soothed him.

“Breathe,” she said laconically.

He nodded quickly and silently, perfectly obedient as he did everything in his power to show the girls his compliance.

“I… I know this is just out of pity,” JJ remarked candidly as Effy’s hand gently combed through his hair, “But I don’t mind!” he blurted out, appreciative of the entirely foreign sensation.

Cook was loving every moment of this, unlike Freddie as he watched Effy’s hand slowly turn JJ’s head to look at Tiff, who he was equally taken with.

“Oh, J,” Tiff murmured, hand cupping JJ’s face as her thumb slowly traced over his lower lip. “Does this feel like pity?”

She slowly leaned in, as JJ realized he should do the same. He was completely confused at first, scrambling and panicking as he tried to remember step by step how kissing worked, but he seemed to calm down once he’d remembered Effy’s words, or word; breathe.

He gradually closed his eyes as he prepared himself for humiliation, but felt something else entirely. JJ felt Tiff’s lips meet his as she eased him into the tender kiss, taking her time before gently taking his bottom lip between her teeth, giving it a playful bite before releasing it. JJ’s breaths had been slow but shallow as he slowly opened his eyes. He’d forgotten that he’d existed in another state before the kiss, and was disappointed once he had to reacquaint himself with the real world.

Cook chuckled in disbelief, watching with widened eyes as Freddie just sulked beside him, simultaneously jealous and uncomfortable.

“That… That was amazing,” JJ confessed breathlessly. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. Thank her.”

JJ turned eagerly as Tiff turned his head back to Effy. His breath hitched with excitement as he felt a reassuring hand from Tiff resting on his thigh. Cook’s fantasy, he realized, was coming to life before him, with him as an observer as JJ sat between the two girls. He was looking readily at Effy as Tiff’s hand caressed his thigh. Effy’s gaze was fiery and piercing as she slowly crawled forward, hands cupping JJ’s face as her lips met his, tongue slowly making its way into his mouth.

Cook quickly shifted in his seat, hoping no one would notice as he just watched, speechless for once. He felt his mind wandering to godless recesses as JJ tentatively rested a respectful hand on Effy’s hip, starting to really relax as Tiff studied him, her hand massaging his thigh. Effy smiled as JJ let out an involuntary, high-pitched sigh, clearly in ecstasy.

Cook nearly screamed at them like a football match when JJ and Effy pulled away from one another.

“…Oh my God,” JJ wheezed, pale in the face. “I-I just kissed two pretty girls!” he realized.

“You’re so cute, JJ,” Effy promised him.

“So cute,” Tiff agreed in an almost sappy manner. “I promise you. Girls see it.”

“Thank you,” he blurted out again, still processing.

���You’re safe with us, JJ,” Tiff whispered with a smile.

Both Cook and Freddie could still hear, even with all the other noise in the room.

“Call us if you ever need to feel ‘safe’ again,” Effy said cheekily.

Both girls giggled mischievously as Freddie pouted, and Cook grew more and more envious.

-

part five.

[laughingsapphic-creates]

Inukag Week day 5: Heat

Yesterday's story was over 5000 words and I didn't even post on time. Today you get a snippet lol

@inukag-week

~~~~~~

Summertime Savage

Kagome sighed in relief, setting down the last basket.

"Alright! Everyone ready?"

"Hard to say, since you haven't told us what we're doing," Shippo pointed out, "but I took off my vest and shirt, if that's all you meant."

"It is! And since it's been so hot lately, I thought a water balloon fight would be a fun way to beat the heat!" Kagome explained, picking up one of the colorful balloons.

"Ready as I'll ever be," Sango hummed, sounding unsure. Kagome had brought a swimsuit for her to borrow, and a skirt to go over it if she wanted it, which she had.

"Don't worry, you look great! And if Miroku gets handsy, just start chucking," Kagome grinned, tossing the balloon to Sango. She caught it easily, careful not to squeeze the taut rubber. "Oh! Shippo, here, these are for you, too!"

Kagome grabbed the bag she'd carried the balloons and hand pump in, picking out a pair of children's gardening gloves.

"Is this part of the game?" He asked, pulling the first glove over his hand.

"Not typically, but most kids who have water balloon fights don't have sharp claws. They're not much fun when every balloon pops in your hand before you get to throw it."

"Not that I'm complaining, Kagome," Miroku assured as he and Inuyasha returned to the group, stripped down to their hakama trousers, "But what exactly is the objective of this game?"

"There isn't like, a win condition, per se. It's just trying to land as many hits as you can while not getting hit. Like a snowball fight, but better, because it's hot out, so getting hit with something cold is actually nice," she shrugged, going back to the bag. "Here, Inuyasha, I have gloves for you, too."

"Feh, I don't need 'em," he huffed.

Kagome watched as Shippo narrowed his eyes, picking up one of the balloons with his own gloved hands.

"Hey, Inuyasha," he hucked a bright orange balloon. "Catch!"

Inuyasha reached out to catch the balloon, which he did.

And then he closed his hand around it, which punctured the delicate material. He squawked in surprise at the jolt of cool water, clenching his fist around the shredded balloon.

"You little brat!"

Snatching the gloves from Kagome's hands, he gave Shippo about a second's head start, picking up one of the baskets and beginning to chase him down.

"Spend all morning pumping balloons by hand so we can have a fun afternoon, and now they're being used in anger," Kagome sighed, shaking her head. Kagome patted her shoulder, flashing a smile.

"Don't worry so much, Kagome. This is just how they have fun, you know?"

"You think so?"

"For sure," she nodded, still smiling as she took a balloon in each hand and turned her gaze on Miroku. "I'm starting to see the appeal as well."

"Sango?" Miroku asked, smiling through his nerves. "Sango, let's talk about this!"

"Start running, Monk!"

Kagome sighed, but smiled, eyes flashing at the sight of Inuyasha, who had chased Shippo to the low boughs of the nearest tree.

"Kagome! Kagome help!"

"Get down here and face me!"

Picking up an armload of water balloons, Kagome strode over, hucking the first at the back of his head. Another indignant squawk escaped him, and he whipped around to stare at her

"Why don't you pick on someone your own size?"

"What? Like you?" He asked smugly. Smirking, she threw another balloon, hitting him square in the chest. With a laugh, he picked up a balloon from his basket, and Kagome got one more shot in before she took off running with a laugh, Inuyasha taking chase automatically.

The valley surrounding the base of the waterfall echoed with shrieks and laughter for more than two hours. Kagome had to implement a "no picking up baskets" rule when Sango took two and used Kirara to implement a tactical air strike against Miroku, and Shippo had eventually gotten his shirt back and began filling it with balloons, tackling people as a means of attack. Miroku had thought to use his staff to deflect the projectiles, but they usually ended up splashing him anyway. The absolute enragement from Inuyasha whenever a balloon he threw managed to not pop on impact was hilarious to watch, but he was still clearly having a good time.

Kagome had distracted him from targeting Sango, and gotten him to chase her again. The balloons had almost run out, she only had one more on her, and she wanted to make it count.

When she reached the dead end, Kagome turned, throwing the balloon, which caught him in the shoulder before he had her backed up against the base of the cliff, one hand planted to the side of her head, the other holding a red balloon

"What's your plan now, wench?" He asked with a superior smile

Kagome didn't answer, blinking up at him with wide eyes and a soft expression. She held his gaze, looking startled but not upset.

Inuyasha's brows furrowed in confusion for a moment, before Kagome's eyes moved down, looking Inuyasha over slowly, and his face erupted with warmth as he realized what she must be thinking.

"Y- Kagome I-!"

Quick as a flash, Kagome grabbed the hand with the balloon, which had lowered in his shock, and smashed it into his chest, splashing them both.

Inuyasha grunted in surprise, eyes blown wide. And before he could even yell in indignation, Kagome pecked his cheek, reaffirming his shock.

Slipping out from between him and the rock, Kagome grinned as he turned to look at her again.

"Turnabout. Not a bad plan, for a wench," she laughed, winking at him before bolting back to the baskets, to see if she could get her hands on one more balloon and definitely not to distract herself from what she'd just done.

Inuyasha watched her run, a tiny, incredulous smile on his lips, before he took chase once more.

[ladylooch]

There is so much of T & Em's relationship to explore, so many moments with baby Lee, I don't want to pass it on to them with even more children (🤭🫣), but Timo, a girl's dad fixing the baby's hair and buying little pink clothes put me in combustion

We bounce around plenty, so we will definitely be back to the three of them. But let's go visit life with Liv for a bit.

"Babe?" Emma comes rushing into the closet where I am buttoning my pants together. She looks so gorgeous, I physically can't move for a minute. Her teal dress accents all the curves I like to run my hands over. Her hair is back to blonde with this honey dew glow that begs for my fingers through it. The guests at this wedding are going to have a hard time not looking at her. Fuck, I'm going to have a hard time not looking at her.

"Holy shit, Em. You are... stunning." She blushes, laughing and closing her eyes for a moment.

"That made me feel good."

"It should. Wow." I reach for her fingers, stroking the back of her hand with my thumb. I tug and she falls into my chest. I tighten my arms around her until she can't move. She whines.

"No, no, no. We don't have time and I need your help."

"Okay?"

"Lee is having a meltdown and is demanding cuddles on the couch. Can you please finish dressing Liv and fixing her hair." I widen my eyes and release my wife.

"I'm a little out of my element with that. Can I take Lee?"

"No. He insisted on me." I scrunch my nose.

"Why doesn't he want me?"

"Sometimes, you just need your mom." She leans up to kiss my lips, rushing away entirely too soon. "Liv is on our bed for you." 

"Ooooookay." I trail off, stuffing my arms into my button up. I work on my buttons as I walk into the room. Our daughter is in the center of the bed in only a diaper, staring at the TV. It's some toddler TV show I always get wrong. "Hi beautiful." I murmur, reaching for her. 

"Dadadadada." She immediately babbles. 

"Yeah? Then what happened?" I ask her, tickling her little belly. I reach down, blowing a raspberry into her plumped skin. She giggles, reaching for my head and patting at it. "Patty cake huh? Maybe we can do that while we get dressed, yeah? But where did mommy put your dress?" I wonder, scanning the room. I find it on Emma's velvet chaise by the window. "Oh, Liv you're gonna look so pretty in this. And you're gonna match your hot mama." 

I put Liv into a sitting position on the bed again, chuckling as she keeps trying to make a break for it by crawling away.

"Hey!" I pretend to yell, grabbing her ankle and pulling her gently back to me. She shrieks in excitement, giggles shaking her little body. I finally pull the tulle and silk over her head. She immediately begins to ball the skirt up in her little hands, shaking her head.

“No.”

“Yeah, baby.” 

“No.” She starts to wail, getting frustrated.

I power through, ignoring the part of me that wants to appease her. She will be fine and is working through some frustration with textures right now. The doctor says it’s normal. Lio never went through anything like this, but that’s been the story with our second child. Her and her brother are nothing alike.

“Baby!” I exclaim when she’s all zipped together. “You are the most beautiful baby girl in the entire world.” I smooch at her cheeks as I gather her back into my arms. “Lee and I are lucky to be walking in with our gorgeous girls.” I scan her light brown hair, noting the way it holds static electricity and shoots out in the back. “Mama said do your hair… and I have no clue. So this seems like a headband thing… except if I put a headband on you, you are going to scream.” I bite my lip beginning to wander into Liv’s room next to ours to see what my options are. 

Liv grips at my jaw as we walk. She leans forward, beginning to mouth at my cheek.

“Mmm thank you.” She just learned to give kisses from Lio, so she likes to lick at people’s faces now, thinking they’re kisses. “Little less tongue tho, baby. We don’t want the boys getting the wrong idea.” 

“No.” She says with excitement. I snort on my laughter.

I scan the various hair accessories Emma has in the top drawer of Liv’s dresser. It is all headbands and hair clips. Liv’s hair isn’t long enough for anything else except maybe a rat tail at the base of her skull. Emma Meier would kill me if I brought her downstairs like that.

“Since I value my life, hair clip it is.” I reach for one with a daisy on it, then set Liv on top of the dresser, to put it in place. I swoop her hair back on the right side, then put the clip in. It looks good enough to me. “Okay, now daddy has to finish getting ready.”

I hold Liv on my hip while I do the finishing touches on my wedding look. When I’m done, I grab my suit jacket and head downstairs to join Em and Lio. Our son’s teary face is munched into Emma’s cleavage watching TV. She strokes her fingers through his hair, lip pressing there every so often.

“How we doing?” I ask, running a hand over Lio’s back. “We feeling brave, buddy?” 

“Yeah.” He responds, pushing up from Emma. “Mama said Lucie is coming.”

“She is.” I confirm. The wedding is for a fellow teammate and Nico is a groomsman. “But you’re going to have to be good during the ceremony, okay?” 

“Yeah, mama told me.” Emma stands, wiggling her skirt back into place. I offer her my arm, wrapping a hand around her waist as she slips back into her black pumps. She smiles, then frowns when she sees Liv.

“Okay. Hair is not your thing.”

“What? What is wrong with it?” 

“Babe, just because the hair clip is attached to her hair doesn’t mean it looks good.” She reaches for our daughter. “Mommy will fix it.” She coos.

I’m too busy looking at the sway of her ass to even be mad.

“You tell mama she looked pretty?” I ask Lio, running a hand over his hair.

“Yeah. Then she left stuff on my cheek.” He points to where her pink lipstick is smudged into his cheek. Lucky kid.

“Trust me, one day, you’ll love it.” 

[catmaidetho]

catmaidetho presents: cat maid etho.

for @von-sway-enthusiast ty for doing your part and voting for etho o7 wc: 572

Etho huffed as he landed in front of Tango’s base. Jesus, he never realized how windy it was by the sea until he had nothing over his legs. The stockings were so itchy, the shoes dug into his Achilles tendon, really why had he agreed to this?

He locked eyes with Tango, who looked two seconds away from exploding.

He smoothed down his skirt. “Don’t.”

Tango snorted, doubling over onto his knees as he burst out cackling. “Oh my god! Oh my god, Etho, holy shit—”

He growled, crossing his arms. The bells on the stupid ears jingled. “Just—just tell me how many dispensers to craft. How many is it, Tango?”

Tango shrieked, slamming his fists into the grass as he struggled for air. “I—oh my god, I need a minute. I need a minute.”

He watched as Tango fumbled with his communicator, and—oh, oh no. Etho’s face heated up.

“Wh—why would you tell everyone?!” he spat, “You jerk!”

Tango’s only reply was another bout of wild cackling as he struggled to remain upright.

Etho kicked dirt at him. “You suck.”

They’d barely started walking towards Tango’s base when he heard elytra overhead, and—he really should’ve been expecting this. Bdubs all but slammed into the ground, landing as gracefully as ever, beside the other two. Etho backed up, trying to pull the skirt down to his knees and failing as the petticoat only served to poof out further.

Bdubs scrambled to his feet, and Etho shot Tango another glare as he giggled.

Bdubs whistled, and if his face wasn’t red before it definitely was now. “Hey gorgeous,” he purred, “What’re you all dolled up for?”

His mask wasn’t enough. He threw his hands over his face. He was going to kill Tango. He was going to take that stupid jerk by the hair and throw him into a one-ticking piston until he was as flat as a pancake—he wanted to see him try to run Decked Out when he had as many dimensions to him as his stupid base.

“Oh, he lost a bet,” Tango chirped. “He has to be my maid for a day.”

Bdubs giggled, trying to pry his hands off his face. Not happening. “Reeally? Were the cat ears part of it?”

“Yep.”

Etho groaned. “I swear to god Bdubs I am never putting this back on. Don’t even ask.”

Bdubs sputtered. “Not even the ears?”

“Not—even—the ears.”

…Maybe it was a little funny how much Bdubs seemed to like the get-up. Bdubs settled his hands on his waist and tugged him closer, and Etho glanced down at him between his fingers; Bdubs was as red as he was, although he had a suspicion it was for other reasons.

“Hey!” Tango snapped, “No touchy, that’s my cat maid. When you win a bet with him—”

“I WON THE STUPID BET!” Etho yelled, finally dropping his hands from his face to shove Bdubs away. “Then you had to go and make another bet—”

“I still won! I won fair and square, and now you’re here!”

He grumbled. Tango was dead for this. He glanced back to Bdubs, who was still incredibly red. 

Tango hummed, starting to walk away. “Now if you’ll excuse us, this guy has some stuff to do.”

Etho started to follow, only for Bdubs to grab his hand and drag him down. “Hey, uh, my base, later?”

His face was now red for a different reason. “...Sure.”

[yuechicake]

down by the shore.

summary: chase and qilan visit the ocean.

notes: 1.1k words, vague chase backstory allusions

In the mirror of the ocean, Qilan can see the sun’s buttery light diffusing on the water, the clouds smearing the sky reflected as aimless drifters on the waves. The water is calmer than she’s used to, a brilliant shade of blue that reminds her of one of Shery’s blueberry cakes, topped by frothy white icing. It’s all framed by broad swathes of warm sand, no sharp outcroppings or black rocks in sight.

Further down the beach, children tumble by the shallow shore and families carouse, lured by the gentle spring weather. Faint shrieks of joy and laughter carry on the salty breeze. It feels like a painting of another era, capturing a lifetime so distant from what Qilan has known.

Somewhere behind her, Chase walks slowly, pant legs rolled to his knees. His clothes are a complication of loose white fabric and tight brown laces, framing his body in a casually stylish way. He’s ready to catch attention or to hide himself amongst the crowd, whatever his next plan necessitates. 

Qilan has already stepped in the surf, water gently rolling across her ankles as she holds her skirts delicately away from the water. Somewhere, on that sandy expanse behind them, they’ve abandoned their shoes. Chase ambles up to her, dropping his chin onto her shoulder from behind.

Before them, the sea stretches like a silk shawl, boats beading its expanse. Chase asks, “How many deucalions would it take to know your thoughts?” 

“More than you could ever steal,” she says, before relenting, “The water is a lot warmer than I’m used to.”

“Really? I think it’s a bit chilly.” He drapes his arms around her waist, resting his weight on her.

“Around where I grew up,” she says, the words slipping out more easily than they ever have before, “It was always cold, even during the summer. My village was up on a cliff, and the waters crashed against the rocks. I could hear it at night.”

“Huh. I thought you said you played near the beaches.”

“I did. The waters were rough, but I learned to swim in them. All the Ket children did, and we would often race. If you go out far enough, you could fish where it was calmer. It would take twenty minutes just to traverse the paths down the cliffs, and the beaches were rocky.”

“No collecting shells?” Chase teases. “Or building sand castles? It sounds like you came out of the womb with a grimace and a dagger in your hand.”

“All Ket do,” she says, placing a hand over one of his own, tanned and warmed from the sunshine. “It’s why you can never win against me. I was running drills before I was born.”

Chase lets out a low whistle. “I never want to be on your bad side, Sunshine.”

“Then you should stop getting on it.”

“Ah, but it’s no fun otherwise,” he says. “You make it easy.”

“Just like you’re easily one of the most annoying people I’ve met,” Qilan returns.

“Don’t flatter me like that,” Chase says.

“What about you, then?”

“What about me?”

“You said you grew up by the ocean. Is this place familiar to you?”

For a long moment, he doesn’t speak. Chase flips over his hand so he can lace their fingers together, thumb tracing nonsensical letters where it can reach. Whether it’s a nervous habit or a plea for reassurance, Qilan can’t tell. 

“No,” he says. “It’s not. I don’t know if there’s one stretch of water I can claim as my own. My father and I… we moved around too much for that. We must have sailed up and down the length of Blest. Sometimes, when you’ve seen all the different faces of something, the individual parts become unrecognizable to you.”

There’s a wistfulness in his voice, and it’s a familiar longing to Qilan. Somewhere, under the waves, they’ve left parts of themselves to the sea that will never return to them.

“It’s a home you can’t return to because it doesn’t exist,” she says calmly. “I understand.”

Chase squeezes her hand before letting go. “Guess we’re a little similar, Sunshine.”

The warmth against her back vanishes as Chase pulls away from her. In a fluid movement, Qilan turns, just in time to see him picking something off the ground and splashing back, flicking seawater onto her clothes. He beckons her closer, and cupped in his palms is a perfectly formed seashell, delicate, pink swirls speckled with flecks of white.

“A seashell?”

“Never too late to start collecting them,” he says, grinning. “But do me a favor. Hold it up to your ear.”

She obliges, scooping it from his hand to gingerly place it against her ear. In the hollows of the shell, waves roar and crash, a miniature ocean trapped within. 

“Nice, right? As a kid, I… used to look for buried treasure. Part of being a corsair, I guess. You start seeing it everywhere. But I would only find stuff like sea glass and sand dollars and shells. Back then, those felt as valuable as any piece of gold.”

“We could go treasure hunting,” she says. “And if we unearth buried gold, we keep it a secret.”

“Fifty-fifty split,” Chase agrees. “No one else knows.”

Qilan lowers the shell from her ear and slips it into her pocket, just as Chase unceremoniously scoops water into his palms and flings it at her, seawater dripping along her face and sliding down her hair, droplets soaking into the fabric of her clothes. 

“You can also do this along beaches,” he says, grinning. 

“Really, now?” Qilan says slowly, dropping her skirts into the water, where they float along the top of the waves. She methodically rolls one of the white sleeves of her blouse to her elbow. Chase’s grin falters, his perpetual sixth sense setting in, as he begins backing slowly away. 

“Sunshine?” he says.

“Hm?” Qilan says innocently, as she rolls her other sleeve up.

“Are you mad?”

“Now,” she says, tone still pleasant as she stalks towards Chase, “Why on earth would I be?”

“I just have the strangest feeling that you might be,” he says, still inching away with every step she takes towards him. “But that couldn’t be right, could it? We get along so well. We’re partners.”

“You should always listen to your instincts.” Qilan smiles. “Just so you know, I’ve never lost a race.”

She doesn’t even finish speaking before Chase bolts, and she breaks into a run after him. They splash through the shallow tides, wet sand sticking to their feet, water foaming around them. It’s childish, more childish than she has ever acted in years. And for a single, brief moment, she’s home again.

[little-peril-stories]

The Prince of Thieves: As Good as Gold, and Better: Part II

Contains: annoying children; annoying men; social pressure to kiss under the mistletoe

Previous | TPOT Masterlist | Next | Read on Ao3 instead

Word count: 4000 || Approx reading time: 17 mins

Easier to understand if you've read Are You Nobody, Too?

As Good as Gold, and Better: Part II

Teaser: I can feel a gaze burning into my back, but when I turn, Henry is distracted, talking to one of his idiot friends. Sure I’m going to find Colette watching me from over her book, I glance to the corner. It’s not a stare of deep, coffee-coloured brown that’s on me, though, but a hazel-eyed one instead.

Bree

The deal is thus: one more round of preparatory Christmas baking to keep our patrons well-fed and smiling on Christmas Day, and then I am permitted to join the hullabaloo out on the floor, where everyone is busy decorating the tree Will, Jamie, Geoff, and Allan brought inside. (Well, if the way they barrelled through the door is to be believed, the former three did the hauling of the actual tree, and Allan was the one who ended up carrying all their stuff, including Will’s coat that he oh-so-wisely doffed despite the cold wind and the snow.)

I make it out of the kitchen to see Stella loudly warning the children staying at the inn that no one is to put any candles on the tree branches, and just because the fancy trees owned by rich families and royalty bear gleaming, brightly lit flames does not mean that she has to do the same. How would we all like it, she barks, if the entire inn caught fire and we were all thrown out in the snow for our own safety in the dead of night?

Even Celeste doesn’t try to stem Stella’s tirade; none of us, as it turns out, wants to burn to death on Christmas Eve, and no one puts up a fight on the matter.

“Ah, here’s Lucy now,” Celeste says, waving me over. “These lovely little lads and lasses are going to make us some beautiful ornaments to hang upon the tree. Isn’t that right, children?” She points to the table, now strewn with all the coloured paper, scissors, needles and thread, and other decorating paraphernalia.

An excitable chorus of agreement swells around us, making me smile until Celeste finishes, “And Miss Lucy’s here to keep an eye on you and help you, all right?”

Across the room, Victoria, who’s obviously listening, presses her hand to her mouth in genuine pity as mine drops open.

“How wonderful,” I manage to say. The first barrage of little hands is already tugging at my skirt.

Celeste smiles sympathetically—not quite sympathetically enough to take over the task herself, though, of course. I suppose someone does need to ensure things are running smoothly around the inn and she is perhaps a bit old to be minding little ones…but still.

“I’ll be around if you need me,” she says, which does not offer me much comfort. “Don’t let the really young ones touch the scissors or the needles.”

“You’re responsible for wiping their tears and cleaning up the blood if you do,” Stella says, whizzing past with a broom and disappearing again.

Great.

As I’m about to let myself fall into self-pity looking at the crowd of children—every single one vying for my attention—and wonder where all their parents are, I notice that a blue-eyed gaze is watching me from across the room.

“What?” I mouth impatiently. I don’t have time for Henry’s nonsense on a good day—certainly not when I’m going to spend the next two hours stringing dried apples and popcorn into garlands, or folding paper into stars and flowers while being shrieked at by a horde of children.

Instead of trying to answer through all the chaos, he just holds something up into the air.

Oh, he’s lucky I’m not anywhere close to him right now, because I am holding a very sharp pair of scissors and he ought to be very, very grateful I can’t drive them right into his hand.

Dangling from his hand: a bouquet of greenery tied in a red ribbon. Soft green leaves, thin stalks, and brilliant, round berries as white as the snow that coats the ground outside.

“Absolutely not,” I shout across the room, forgetting myself, and he flashes me that asshole grin of his. “Get it out of here!”

Colette, who is pretending to read Dickens while she coolly observes the pandemonium from the corner where she’s sitting with the others, notices me yelling and follows my gaze to Henry Bailey and his goddamn sprigs of mistletoe. Her eyebrows move upwards.

Unfortunately, the bombardment of, “Miss Lucy! Miss Lucy!” grows to be too much then, and now I have to actually be grateful to be surrounded by all the little Christmas goblins who need to me to do everything for them, because as long as I’m being climbed on by five-year-olds, Henry can’t get anywhere near me with his stupid plant or his stupid mouth.

“All right,” I say, clapping my hands in a weak attempt to look like I know how to command the attention of children. “Shall we begin?”

I can feel a gaze burning into my back, but when I turn, Henry is distracted, talking to one of his idiot friends. Sure I’m going to find Colette watching me from over her book, I glance to the corner. It’s not a stare of deep, coffee-coloured brown that’s on me, though, but a hazel-eyed one instead.

 One kid ends up on the floor and makes me yelp when she crawls right under my skirt, between my legs, all rosy-cheeked and giggling.

“Right! No, thank you!” I tug her to her feet and catch Victoria leaning against the wall, giggling helplessly at my plight. She’s supposed to be untangling the existing garlands, I think, and she’s got part of one hanging over her shoulder, but apparently my suffering is an endless well of amusement. Maybe this was her duty last year, before I was hired, and she is sympathetic but relieved to be free of it. Maybe this is some sort of rite of passage I need to survive. Somehow.

I take the little girl by the hand and guide her to the table. “What about a star?” I ask her uncertainly. “Does that sound fun?”

She gives some sort of incoherent babbling in response and reaches for the coloured paper and a pencil. With her attention on that, I can move on to the next squealing child.

There are a few older kids, thank goodness, that I pass some of the duties to, getting them to cut paper snowflakes and stars for the younger ones while I thread needles and fold paper into roses. Well…try to.

“Hey. Let us help.”

It’s so loud in here, I almost miss it. Maybe I did miss the first few times they said it, because Colette just elbows her way in and sits down, directing Will to do the same on the other side of me.

“Let me fold,” she says, not-at-all-subtly biting back a laugh and taking my sorry attempt at paper foliage right out of my hands. “You do the other stuff.”

Well. If she wants to suffer through that, I’m not going to take the opportunity away from her. I’ll happily relinquish that responsibility.

“I can do this,” Will says, picking up one of the threaded needles. He must be able to read the question in my raised eyebrows, because he says, “Hey! It’s not that hard. And I can sew. Sort of. Now. Kind of.”

Next to me, Colette snorts.

“It’s not real sewing, anyway, though, is it?” He’s going a little red, but the look on his face is earnest.

I pluck the needle from his hand. “I think I have a better idea.”

I’ll take care of making the garlands with the “help” of some of the little ones. He can be the one to lift them up and stand them on chairs sturdily enough that they don’t fall and break their necks or knock over anything that might shatter while they add their decorations to the tree.

“Brave,” Colette murmurs once we’ve set him doing that, “but pretty smart.”

“Brave?” I repeat, wincing. How is this needle so dull? This is the eighth time I’ve accidentally stabbed myself trying to string popcorn.

She nods toward Will. “Well, smart to have him do that so you don’t have to do all the heavy lifting.”

She grins conspiratorially, and I can’t help but match it. “Was it that obvious?”

“No. I just know you’re clever. Like me.” She laughs. “And brave to trust him with—well, with anything.”

My answer slips out so fast, I’ve said it before I’ve even thought it through. The words just fall out. “Of course I trust him. I trust him with my—”

The needle bites into my finger again, and I stop, hissing and checking for blood.

Still smiling, she concentrates on her folding and twisting and doesn’t give an answer.

For a few minutes, anyway.

“And Goldilocks?” She nods across the room, and I peer out through the chaos, trying to find who she means. “You trust him?”

It takes me a moment to realize who she’s talking about: a grinning, loud-mouthed figure who’s got Stella’s glare on him as well as mine and Colette’s.

Goldilocks. She’s calling Henry Goldilocks. I almost fall off my chair, giggling and silently resolving to bring the name into our next practice session to see what he says.

“Oh, he’s harmless,” I tell her when I can speak again. “I mean, he’s shameless. A ridiculous flirt.”

“You don’t say,” she says drily.

I bite my lip. Sounds like he’s tried at least a little to get her attention, too, albeit unsuccessfully. “Yeah. He’s an idiot. But he knows it, at least. And he’s all right when you get to know him. Just…irritating.”

“Are you actually friends with him?” she asks, incredulous.

“I suppose so,” I say, thinking of a bruise I’ve got on my hip from our last morning session that I still need to pay him back for.

“So you trust him, too.”

Trust him? I must, considering all the times I’ve put my bodily well-being in his hands. “Well, I suppose I trust him enough.” I shoot a dirty look his way, though, at the reminder of what new instrument of annoyance he’s brought into the inn. “I wasn’t expecting the mistletoe, though.”

“Want me to set him straight for you?”

A funny thing happens deep behind my ribcage at her words. “No…no, I can handle him. I promise.” At this, I almost want to cry, although I expect it would look strange to see me weeping into a bowl of dried oranges and popcorn just because she offered to get Henry to lay off and quit bothering me. Because maybe Colette, even just a bit, sort of cares. “But I appreciate it. Really.”

“Just say the word,” she says, leaning over a paper carnation. “He looks like he’d be fun to smack around if he stepped out of line.”

“He is,” I joke back without thinking.

Colette’s head snaps back up.

“I mean…” Shit. “You know. Telling him to back off. And stuff.”

I don’t know why I’m keeping the lessons a secret from her. I’m pretty sure she knows how to fight. She probably wouldn’t think it strange. But I find my gaze pulled to another figure in the room, all freckles and flailing elbows and big grins, and I have to wonder what he’d think if she went and told him. Not that it matters, of course. It doesn’t. But still. I wonder. Just a little.

Colette gives me a look that says she knows very well what it looks like when people are keeping secrets, but she doesn’t press the matter.

After a cursory look at the little ones to make sure no one has a sharp tool who shouldn’t have one, and no one’s crying, fighting, or making more of a mess than expected, I put my attention back on Will. I didn’t really know what I was doing when I told him to help the children put their ornaments on the tree, but he’s doing a splendid job, so much that I almost want to let my hands fall still so I can keep watching him. He’s got this great silly smile on his face every time he kneels down to talk to one of them, and even though they’re so much smaller, none of them seem the slightest bit frightened. One of the little girls—of course, it’s the one with personal space issues, the one who crawled under my legs earlier—even leaps into his arms out of sheer excitement to put her messily drawn star as high upon the tree as she can reach.

As she stretches her arm and hangs it near the top, Will looks over here too, and I’m caught staring.

Stupidly, I wave at him, not sure what else to do since it’s too late to look away, and he grins, holding my gaze with those sparkling eyes for a few extra moments before he has to bring the girl back down to the ground.

“You all right?” Colette asks lightly, and I realize one of my hands has come to rest over my heart, which is pounding in a most unseemly and ridiculous way.

“Yes,” I say quickly, reaching for another slice of dried orange. “I’m just getting tired. It’s been a busy day.”

She gives me that look again.

“I didn’t know Will liked kids,” I say.

She glances over at him, a little smile on her lips. “Why wouldn’t he? He’s nothing but a big kid himself.”

And to be fair, he seems to be having the time of his life, bouncing around and making them “fly” a little when they ask for it and laughing at the same silly things they all find amusing. “I guess you’re right.”

“Of course I’m right,” she says, and she winks.

I don’t expect there will be any Christmas gifts under that tree for me tomorrow, but, even so, it sure feels like I’ve got something else, something that can’t be wrapped up in a box and ribbon. Something I didn’t have before.

And like mulled wine, warm and comforting and steeped in spices that taste like home, gratitude spills over me—for smiles and company and maybe, just maybe, newly forged friendship.

***

The other three have been hiding out in the corner for through most of the decorating, but when it comes time to crown the tree with the star, Stella takes one look around the room and lands a stare on Geoff. “You. Get over here.”

There’s only a split second of him staring back at her in surprise, and then, at the sound of Colette bursting into laughter, and at the unbudging resolution in Stella’s voice, he rises and crosses the room.

“Wow,” says one of the children, practically bug-eyed. “He’s tall.”

“I know,” Celeste says with a laugh. “That’s why we need him.”

The little girl from before, who seems to have finally found her harried-looking mother, bursts away and darts toward Geoff. “Can I do it? Please? Please? Please?”

Geoff stands helplessly, clearly not knowing what to do while she dances around him, pleading to be the one to put the star on the top of the tree. A glance at Will shows that he’s almost toppled to the floor, shaking with silent laughter, and another at Jamie shows that he has his arms crossed and is merely watching with a smile. He doesn’t notice me staring, but gives Geoff an encouraging nod.

“That okay?” Geoff asks the girl’s mother, voice low but uncertain, almost nervous.

She looks him up and down, obviously wary of his gruffness and his ridiculous height, but the daughter is clinging to his hands now, jumping up and down, and the mother has no choice but to say, “Well, all right then. If you’ll—um—if you’ll be careful.”

The girl squeals with delight as Celeste hands her the star and Geoff lifts her into the air, no step-ladder needed.

“Perfect,” Celeste says when the star is glinting atop the tree, and after Geoff has taken a moment to straighten it from the slightly drunken posture it was left in by the girl. Even Stella looks genuinely happy. She doesn’t bat Celeste’s hands away when they come to rest upon her—one on her shoulder, the other with fingers entwined with hers.

I peek back at the others, curious to see their reactions to the loveliness of the tree they chose, adorned and glittering. Will’s grinning, although for some reason he glances a few times at the clock; Jamie looks content; Allan is distracted by tending to someone’s kid who got a pine needle stick under his fingernail; Geoff is trying to slink back to Jamie’s side without being noticed; and Colette’s given up her reading ruse entirely, now openly watching Stella and Celeste with undisguised interest. It’s clear from how she’s always watching everything that goes on around here that her old habits from being IA’s information-gatherer are taking their sweet time to fade away.

“Hey, Miss Lucy.”

And, of course, now there’s this voice interrupting my thoughts.

“Yes, Mr. Bailey? What can I do for you?” Turning around brings me face to face with his red waistcoat, and I tilt my head up to frown at him, suspicious. “Where is it?”

“Where’s what?” he asked, all innocence.

“You know what.” I cross my arms. “Your damn mistletoe.”

“What damn mistletoe?”

“Henry.”

He flashes me that stupid, stupid grin. “You mean this?”

All around us, the older kids burst into cries, giggles, and oohs when he pulls it from behind his back and dangles it over my head. The younger ones don’t seem to know what it means, but buoyed by the infuriating enthusiasm of their older siblings, they join in on the excited squalling.

“We had a deal,” I say, trying to keep smiling for the sake of these goddamn children and no one else.

“Ah, yeah. We did. I recall.” But he’s still smirking. “This, though. It’s a Christmas tradition! Nothing more. And you don’t want to spit in the face of tradition, do you?”

“I hate you,” I say through gritted teeth.

He laughs, damn him. “No, you don’t.”

The kids are all shrieking now, like they’ve never seen mistletoe before, which cannot possibly be true. With my face burning, I step a little closer, aiming for his foot with mine. He dodges at the last second.

“You gotta try a little harder than that,” he says with a wink.

“Is that a challenge?”

I can’t control the way my eyes peer back, just for a second. It’s Colette who catches my eye; she has somehow commandeered Geoff away from Jamie, but she’s not looking at him while she talks. Like everyone else in this stupid inn, she’s watching Henry taunt me with those stupid fucking berries over my head.

With a sigh, I step forward and plant the most chaste kiss I can possibly manage on Henry’s cheek, this time landing a stomp on his toes.

“I’m going to make you pay for this,” I hiss in his ear.

Even though I’m sure his foot hurts, his eyes are still sparkling. “Darling, I’m counting on it.”

No one notices me trampling his toes or whispering threats, of course; the kids are all too busy losing their minds, along with someone else. Throwing his head back, laughing his ass off, Henry lets out a victorious whoop, then kisses me in matching chasteness on my cheek, and it’s only because he doesn’t try to steal a real kiss that I don’t sock him right in the stomach and show off all he’s taught me in front of everyone.

My heart’s pounding, I realize when he pulls away, but it has nothing to do with Henry’s lips against my cheek.

Victoria, looking sulkier than she did before, tries to nudge through the crowd, and I grab her hand. “Hey! Look!” I cry dramatically. “Mistletoe!”

And I switch places with her, so she’s now standing with Henry instead of me, and she’s giving me a look of pure joy, all sullenness instantly banished, and Henry’s rolling his eyes but also seeming to say, Well, may as well, and he kisses her, too, making her squeal and eliciting a round of cheers from his friends.

“Merry Christmas, you annoying bastard,” I say, quietly enough that no one can hear me—it wouldn’t do to scandalize the children, after all—but maybe, with any luck, he’ll read my lips and get the hint.

I glance at the corner, where Colette is clutching Geoff’s arm and suppressing a laugh with her lips squeezed together. Jamie’s stone faced. Allan looks confused.

Will is gone.

***

I don’t think my feet have ever hurt so much. This is the thought that keeps repeating in my head as I stumble upstairs to mine and Victoria’s room. Actually, it’s just my room tonight, because after she finished work, she departed to spend the night with her family so she can wake up with them on Christmas morning. I asked her once why she lives here with Stella and Celeste if her family’s not that far away, and she just said they lived too far out of town that the journey every day wouldn’t have been worthwhile. I figured I’d just take her word for it, but if I had a choice between living with Stella and not, well…

I’m almost up the stairs when a familiar voice breaks through the quiet.

“Will, are you even listening?”

Seems that when he disappeared earlier, he just came straight back up here.

“Mmm hmm,” he responds, or that’s what it sounds like, anyway. It’s quiet, almost inaudible, and unmistakably the voice of a man who is not listening at all.

Another voice. Jamie’s. Faintly concerned and quieter than Colette’s. “I guess none of us are getting any sleep tonight, huh?”

“You can do whatever you want,” Will mumbles back. “It’s not finished.”

“Looks finished.” That one’s Geoff, all rumble and thinly disguised amusement.

“Well, it’s not.”

Eavesdropping is wrong, but my curiosity burns a little. Well, a lot. Not finished what? Is “it” the reason he ran off, away from the mistletoe and the tree and the Henry Bailey debacle? Did he even see any of that?

Not that I care, of course.

“I still think you should listen,” says Colette. “I’m going to keep going now.”

“Okay,” he grumbles. “Hurry up, then.”

A soft grunt and the faintest thud make me wonder if she didn’t throw a pillow right at his head.

“‘And yet I should have dearly liked, I own,’” Colette reads after Will’s cursing has died down, “‘to have touched her lips; to have questioned her, that she might have opened them; to have looked upon the lashes of her downcast eyes, and never raised a blush; to have let loose waves of hair, an inch of which would be a keepsake beyond price: in short, I should have liked, I do confess, to have had the lightest licence of a child, and yet to have been man enough to know its value.’”

There’s a moment of silence as she pauses, a silence that seems to contain every possible emotion, breathless and urgent, as it rolls through the air.

Then…

“You’re a goddamn busybody, Colette.” It’s not Will who tells her off, even though he was the one whose attention was being requested; it’s Jamie. “I know what you’re—”

But someone’s laughing—no, more than one person. At least two. Colette, for sure, and if my ears don’t deceive me, Geoff.

“What are you so worked up about? I’m just reading. It’s right here! Look.” I can only assume she’s pointing to her page. “He didn’t hear a damn word, anyway.”

And it certainly seems like it; there’s not even a hint of a reaction from Will, except for, “The hell is so funny?”

“If it’s worth anything,” Allan’s voice says, “I’m not sure I’m comprehending, either.”

Colette says, “Oh, you’re both hopeless. Never let it be said that I didn’t at least try,” and then she’s back to reading A Christmas Carol and there’s nothing interesting left to listen in on except for Dickens’ beautiful prose.

I back away from their door, guilt already swarming all over me about the eavesdropping but warring with the strangest feeling, fuzzy and muddled to say the least, that there were two people meant to hear that passage, and while one of them did not, the other, quite possibly, heard it loud and clear as the tolling bells of midnight, heralding the arrival of Christmas Day.

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[livvyofthelake]

how much did millie bobby brown slay in damsel 2024 with DETAILS please :-)

she was slaying and serving the entireee time for real... she was screaming and yelling and crying and breathing so heavily at times you worried she was gonna pass out due to the fact she was still wearing that damn corset and she was grunting while climbing up ropes and jagged cliffs and then doing more screaming. basically our girl made a lot of noises... which had me very worried in certain scenes and i had to be like girl be quiet the dragon can hear you!! but she literally was not letting up on the letting out shrieks and yells. and that was the weirdest way i could start talking about this movie but i just wanted to set the stage for everyone so we all know this was a screaming movie. and i KNOW we all love it when millie bobby brown screams her fucking head off we all saw stranger things season two...

anyway i don't know if i'd necessarily say this was her best acting but i'm not about to be some asshole who thinks she stopped being talented after she turned 17 and romanticize the "glory days" of early stranger things like what am i a man get serious... she's a great actress in everything she does! but i would say this was probably a very very easy role to play for her so i imagine there was a certain level of phoning in. i say that as a compliment to her talent not a put down of the film's writing... but elodie is not a character she had to put in a lot of work for like she had to be able to scream and yell and run. and she had to be kind and likeable but most of the heavy lifting there is already done via the fact we are already rooting for her because she got thrown into a dragon's lair as a blood sacrifice... what i'm saying is that it's an easy movie both to make and to watch it's not revolutionary but it IS huge massive insane to ME because it's so like, within the confines of it's genre (girlfantasy) because i happen to like it's genre very very much!

OK SO. i simply must talk about the outfits. as we know they put her in a beautiful gorgeous wedding gown and it was progressively torn to shreds as the story went along which was AWESOME. the way they showed her being prepared for the wedding in so much detail and we saw how many layers and how much went into the dress and how much it must have weighed down on her (both literally and metaphorically!!!) and restricted her movement, and it's destruction represents the dismantling of her faith in the system she was essentially sold into... the dress was literally DESIGNED to trap her in the cave with the dragon i was losing my mind at the part where she couldn’t get further into the cave away from the dragon because the hoop skirt was stuck on the rocks like that was crazy… and. now. was it insane that in the end she was essentially wearing a sleeveless minidress with a snatched corseted waist? well a little yeah that was kinda ridiculous. but the larger point was that she escaped the traditional constricting dress they put her in so they could continue on in their comfortable life and she was left in the underdress exposing the wiring and manipulation that exists underneath their society’s beautiful exterior… you understand!

and her character was soooo lovely is the thing... perfect girlfantasy protagonist fr...!! lowkey her guinevere choices realness. um but without the prophetic visions! i loved how the whole movie opened with her and her sister chopping wood to bring back to their town like she's a lord's daughter but she isn't above doing everything she can to help! she didn't want to get married either but she knew it would help her people... when she saw that first bird on fire in the dragon's lair and she gently held it after stamping the fire out but she couldn't save it... almost cried! she just had so much care for all life and so much drive to protect everything and everyone and most especially herself... the way that she was the second sacrifice out of three so she kept going because she knew there was still one girl left she had the power to save... crazy stuff!!! she even saved the dragon...

the way that in the end when she walked into that third wedding and everyone was shocked that she clawed her way out of that mountain and back to their castle for revenge and there was a moment where it was almost implied that they'd spare her and find another sacrifice if she still wanted to be the prince's wife and take part in their family's sick farce... and she was like fuck off actually i think you should all stand here in your golden palace while my new bestie the dragon burns your shit to the ground... and it was cunty!!!!!!! i was clapping and cheering and smiling yayyyy!

in conclusion. a 10/10 slay, we love you millie bobby brown <3