#that's probably the best tag for this /thinking

[kaahmbem]

legend has it that the young witch circe and the once beautiful nymph scylla shared a complicated past...

[mills-73]

Don’t Stop

After 30 years in another dimension, Stanford is quite inexperienced in the women department, although he does know how to pleasure you quite well.

TAGS: 18+, smut; dude is touch-starved, do you see where this is going? mild humiliation (you tease him and he gets horny), p in v, cunningligous

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

You never knew Stan had a twin brother up until recently.

You came into work, seeing double, thinking you had some serious brain damage, before Stan explained the situation to you. His name was Stanford—which confused you until that was also explained—and he’d been trapped in another dimension for thirty years. Heaven knows that alone threw you for a loop.

Dimension? Portals? Total baloney. But hey, it’s Gravity Falls, so it’s 99% likely to be true. And with one look at Ford, you believed it instantly.

He truly looked like he was out of place here, like he spent so long somewhere else that he didn’t know how to fit in anymore. He was paranoid and definitely had a loose screw or something with the way he tore apart the Mystery Shack “just in case he’s here.” You had no idea who this “he” person could be, but you didn’t question it.

Stan finally, after months of being here and begging him to let you in on the secrets of the Mystery Shack, finally spilled the beans to you. You soaked up every word with a smile on your face.

When Ford actually noticed that you were in the room with them, he stopped dead in his tracks and just kind of stared at you, a small tint of coral flowing over the bridge of his nose. You could barely see it because of his glasses, but then his cheeks puffed a little and you knew he was embarrassed about what you just witnessed him doing.

You introduced yourself to him, attempting to shake his six-fingered hand. He politely refused. You and Stan shared a look of unease but otherwise left Ford alone for the time being.

You went about your day, Stan leading a group of tourists through the museum as you sat at the counter and observed Ford looking at every object in the room. If there was anything yellow or triangle shaped he threw it away despite your protests.

He seemed a little weird, you thought. Handsome as fuck, but weird. Especially when he’d just stare at you when he thought you weren’t looking, almost as if he didn’t think you were real. You didn’t think it was creepy or anything, but almost cute, maybe. He seemed so interested in you, squinting his eyes, tilting his head, even going as far as to come up to you and poke your shoulder. You only raised an eyebrow at him when he did that and he rushed out an apology and quickly left. You didn’t see him for a few days after that.

When you did, he carried a worn, brown leather journal in his hands. He sat in the gift shop with you and wrote in it for the rest of the day, giving you the occasional glance over his glasses.

You wanted to know what his deal was with you, but you couldn’t really outright ask him. He probably just felt weird being around people he didn’t really know all that well. Although, even if that was the case, why would he actively sit in a room with them? You decided not to think too much about it or your head was going to explode.

What you were really curious about was what he was writing. Stan had told you yesterday that he wrote three journals documenting the paranormal creatures and anomalies he’s found throughout his time in Gravity Falls. It sounded interesting enough, and you wanted to ask him about everything he knew. But he had just come back from being in another dimension, so you thought it’d be best to give him some space before you bombard him with question upon question.

For the remainder of the day, he didn’t talk to you. And he wouldn’t for a few weeks. But he was always keeping an eye out.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

Your interest is piqued at very best when it comes to the mind of Stanford Pines. Him and that damn journal he keeps on him at all times now has you tracking his every movement when he’s around, trying your damnedest to get a peek at what he’s writing. But whenever you get close enough he snaps it shut and immediately pretends he's finished with whatever he was doing.

Now you’re even more curious.

How can you make him leave that journal behind for just a few moments so you can take a peek inside? You figure he’s not stupid enough to leave it behind if he goes somewhere, so you ask Stan to swipe it for you while he’s sleeping.

“You owe me twenty bucks, kid.”

The next day, Stan slips you the journal, holding his hand out for the money you owe him. You sigh and slap it in his hand.

“Tell no one.”

You roll your eyes and sneak off to the roof to read it. You feel a little bad about invading his privacy like this, but you have to know what he’s writing about all the damn time. It’s like a plague that can only be cured by reading the journal's contents.

You open it to the first page and your lips part in a gasp.

There’s multiple doodles of what looks like you scattered around, your name repeated over and over and then crossed out. You flip the page. It’s a journal only dedicated to you, your behavior, drawings of your face. There’s one page in particular that looks as if Ford went on a deep dive off the dark end.

Ford seems fascinated with you. You trace the ink lines of his pen with your finger, your eyes flickering over each word. He mentions at one point that he doesn’t think you’re real, going as far as to say you’re a succubus sent to make him lose his mind. Which is a little far out, but it makes you laugh. A sex demon? Really?

The other things he says about you is a little…weird to say the least.

“Could this be another one of Bill’s tricks? Is he trying to control me by using her? I need to check her eyes.”

The phrase “look at her eyes” is repeated over and over again across countless pages. More drawings here and there and comments about how he can’t stop thinking about you. He expresses he understands what’s happening to him so he’s writing all of it down, watching you for the better part of his day just to see if he can figure you out.

It’s kind of cute.

You assume that because he’s been gone for so long he doesn’t know how to approach you to actually try and talk to you. Or maybe he just likes observing from a distance.

Whatever the case, you snap the journal closed and stare off into the forest.

You have an opportunity to tease him for the stuff you’ve found, but is that too cruel? He’d blush so beautifully if you ever told him what you found out.

You think for a minute.

It’s not that cruel.

With a smirk, you climb back down the latter to the gift shop, spotting Ford turning over everything in sight. You know what he’s looking for, so you just stand there and smile.

“Looking for this?” You wave the journal around, watching his back stiffen and his eyes widen.

“H-How did you get that?”

You shrug your shoulders, flipping it open. Ford rushes for you and snatches it out of your hands, holding it close to his chest. His face is pink and his eyes look fearful.

“Very interesting topics you chose to write about. Is that your latest research?” You tease, stepping closer to him.

Ford swallows thickly. “You—You weren’t supposed to see that. How did you even—?” He blush deepens, a hand reaching to scratch at the back of his neck.

You feign innocence and smile sweetly at him. “I’m very curious to know about this succubus. I thought they were just myth?” He looks around as if he’s hoping someone will come in and save him from his embarrassment. “It’s cute you thought I was one. I’m very honored you see me like that, Ford.”

“It’s not what it looks like! I promise,” he raises his voice. “

“Then what is it like, Ford? Hm?” You reach your hand out, running your fingers down the side of his face. You delight in his shiver. “Because it seems to me that you like me.”

Ford stutters over his words, his eyes flickering to your lips. “I don’t know what you mean.”

You shrug. “If you say so.”

You begin to walk around him, ending the conversation, but he grabs you by the arm and stops you, whispering a soft “Wait.”

Your eyes meet and you smile. “Yes?”

“What…What didn’t think of it?”

“Of the journal?” He nods. You smile. “It was interesting.”

He’s silent, looking at your lips as his tongue darts out and wets his own. You lean in, whispering against the shell of his ear. “Do you like me, Ford?”

His gulp is audible. “I’d say I’m…I’mintrigued by you.”

“Only intrigued?” Your fingers run down his arm to his hand, your thumb running over his knuckles. His intake of breath makes you smirk. “I think you’re a bit more than that, handsome.”

After a few moments he admits "I find you stimulating."

You giggle at him. You turn you head so your lips are inches apart, loving how he eyes your mouth with ferocious need. "How stimulating?"

Without a seconds thought, he crashes his lips against yours, dropping his journal to the ground so he can grip your hips in his hands. You gasp in surprise but simmer into the kiss.

He's a little sloppy with it but you don't mind all that much, kissing him back with enough fervor that has him moaning into your mouth.

Ford pushes you up against the wall of the Shack, whimpering breathlessly as he bites at your bottom lip. Your hands come up to wrap around his neck, your fingers deftly running over the ends of his hair. He moans and begins to pepper kisses down your jaw and to your neck.

"Ford," you moan, trying to get his attention. "Ford, wait. We can't do this here."

He murmurs something under his breath before dragging you by your hands to another room of the shack. It's his bedroom.

You look at him, noting the need planted all over his face. You never really thought of him like this before, but seeing him actually want you like a crazed mad-man has your heart stuttering in your chest.

Before you know it, he’s on you again, pushing you towards the bed and climbing on top of you. His hips rut against yours as he licks into your mouth, his hands slipping underneath the hem of your shirt. He seems so desperate for you, and you guess spending thirty years without someone to fuck time to time would have its effects on someone. Hell, you don’t even know if you could go thirty years without sex.

The feel of his fingers on your skin sends a jolt of fire to your core, your heart rate picking up as you realize how far he wants to go with this. His erection is pressing against your thigh, so unbelievably hard that you understand his neediness.

“Your skins so soft,” he whispers against your lips, giving you one last chaste peck before sitting up, admiring you from above. “Do you want to do this with me? Because I really…” he gazes down your body. “I swear you put a spell on me or something.”

You laugh at his remark, sitting up on your elbows. “I want this.”

At your consent, he kisses you again, his hands roaming over every inch your body. You arch into his touch, sighing into his mouth when his thumbs run across your nipples.

“Is this okay?” He whispers, a little unsure. He tweaks at each bud, a shiver in running down your spine.

“Yes,” you breathe. “It’s perfect, Ford.”

He slips your shirt over your head, tossing it to the side, leaving your bra. His lips trail down your neck to the top of your breasts, your fingerings burying themselves in his hair as he kisses each one. He pulls the pads of your bra down, the cool air making your nipples pepper in response.

Ford’s mouth latches on to your right tit, his tongue lapping around. A moan drags itself from the back of your throat, sitting up slightly to unclasp the fabric from your body. His other hand comes up to give attention to your other boob, pinching and tweaking at your nipple.

He praises your breasts with his mouth before moving downwards, quickly ridding your body of the rest of your clothes, leaving you bare and vulnerable for him.

“It’s—” he chuckles nervously. “—It’s been a while since I’ve done this, if I’m being honest.” He licks his lips and leans down between your thighs, kissing the skin tenderly. You shutter. “Let me know if I’m doing things right.”

You nod and he kisses you again, trailing up to the spot between your thighs, the stipple of his beard scratching you in ways that make you tremble.

Slowly, teasingly, he begins to lap at your folds, tasting your essence. He hums softly, seemingly lost in the sensation as the pleasure builds higher and higher. Your fingers find their way to his hair, pulling gingerly at the grey strands.

"Oh, fuck," you cry as he sucks at your clit. "You're doing so fucking good. Oh my god!"

At your praise, he seems to go harder, the vulgar sounds of your own wetness and his tongue echoing off the walls. You feel one of his fingers slip inside you, his tongue never stopping it's ministrations against you clit.

You cry out as he begins to finger you slowly. Pressure begins to form low in your gut, wrapping around the bottom of your spine. He adds another finger after a moment, scissoring them inside of you.

His other arm comes up to wrap around your hips, holding you in place as he curls his fingers, making you gasp. Your orgasm is fast approaching and you don't know if you can hold it off for too much longer.

Another nip to your clit and a particularly rough thrust inside, you shatter. Your thighs shake graciously as he helps you through your orgasm, quickly becoming almost overstimulating that you have to beg him to have mercy on you.

He smiles up at you from between your legs, his lips glistening with your slick. "Was that okay?"

Still breathless, you nod. "You did so good, handsome." His glasses are foggy and a little crooked and you reach out and fix them. "Did you want to do more?"

He groans. "Yes, please. I need more."

"Then take what you need, honey," you tease, spreading you leg further.

Ford is quick to remove his clothes, his cock hard and the tip an angry shade of red. "Don't laugh if I don't last very long," he murmurs, sliding back between your legs, dragging the tip along your folds.

You bite your lip at the feeling, bucking your hips to invite him to push inside. As he does, you gasp. He's not entirely huge, but he's thick, and he streaches you out perfectly.

He feels fucking amazing.

When he bottoms out, he falls over you, holding himself up by his arms. He shutters, his eyes closing as he looses himself inside of you. Ford pulls out, shallowing thrusting inside of you. You purr at the feeling, meeting his movements, soft moans slipping past your lips.

He picks up the speed, pulling out completely and slamming back inside of you, hitting your sweet spot just right, causing you to throw your head back in a silent scream.

Ford fucks you slow and hard, the sound of skin meeting skin and vulgar yet breathy moans filling the room. He whimpers above you, his cock twitching inside you.

"Fuck, Ford. You're fucking me so well," you cry, wrapping your legs around his waist. "Please. Go faster."

"I-I don't think I can, darlin'," he gasps.

"Then let me ride you."

He groans at your words, slipping out of you after a few seconds. You flip the two of you over, settling on top. You guide the head of his cock inside, lowering yourself down until he fills you up perfectly.

Ford stares up at you, lips parted in awe. You start to grind down on him, moving your hips in a circular motion.

"Fuck," he whines, "you're amazing."

You start to bounce up and down, holding yourself up by your hands on his chest, your nails grazing over his skin. He flexs his hips upwards to meet your hips, not being able to hold his moans of pleasure back.

"Please," he begs. "Don't stop."

You weren't planning on it, riding him like your life depends on it. The stimulation to your clit and the tip of his cock hitting you just right has you falling over the edge not even a minute later, your legs spasming as a second orgasm washes over you.

His own moans become more strained and whiney, and you know he's close as he begins to pump inside of you, matching your rhythm.

"Cum for me, Ford," You say, breathless and desperate for him to fill you up.

He throws his head back, mouth drooped open as his hands come up to your hips. He grips them roughly, fucking up into you roughly, making you scream out in pleasure. He's whimpering and groaning and you feel him spill inside of you seconds later, fucking you through his orgasm.

Your breaths fill the air around, your body slumping onto of his.

"You were great," you mumble into his neck.

You feel him turn away, hiding his face into his shoulder. "I, uh...t-thanks."

You giggle. "Don't be getting all shy on me now."

Slowly, you roll off of him, Ford hissing at the stimulation. He pushes his foggy glasses up on his face, not daring to meet your eyes.

"Was it okay?" he mumbles. "It's been a little while and--"

"It was more than okay, Ford." You smile. "I hope we can do it more often."

He looks over at you, a blush on his cheeks. "I'd...I'd be okay with that."

You smirk, giving him a kiss. "Good."

~

ARTWORK BY @pumafysketch

ty for reading! i honestly hate this but it's wtv. i’ll probably write more but anyway

tags: @loslox @emgrth

[dekarios]

book recommendation tag game!

rules: recommend as many books as you like. please include genre and some basic information on it (either your words or a copy+paste synopsis). feel free to include cover art, a personal review, trigger warnings, and anything else! just don’t spoil the book!

you don’t have to copy how i’ve done it; but feel free to!

Annihilation by Jeff VanderMeer

Genre: Science (Weird) Fiction & Horror.

Four armed and unnamed women—a biologist, an anthropologist, a psychologist, and a military-trained surveyor—cross the border into Area X, an unspecified coastal location that has been closed to the public for three decades.

literally caused mental illness within me. i think i developed a new disorder. this book made me more trans and more autistic. this book made my desire to be non-human even stronger. i want to go to area X

This Is How You Lose the Time War el by Amal El-Mohtar and Max Gladstone

Genre: Science Fiction & (Sapphic) Romance.

As agents Red and Blue travel back and forth through time, altering the history of multiple universes on behalf of their warring empires, they leave each other secret messages—at first taunting, but gradually developing into flirtation then love.

they invented love. this is what love is. this is soulmates, this is made for each other, this is every single action i have made in my life was to bring me to you, it’s me and you against the world. it’s completely ruined me. i think it’s probably going to be unbeatable for best book ever made. also made my desire to be non-human even stronger

@magmethius @fagmage @hatsune @alistairstheirins

@gurathins @magicmissiled @heavenfelll @tiefbard

@azatas @arborstone @fields-of-rye @talizoraa

@kadefox @demonia @carlosoliveiraa @tunarath

@lusus--naturae @theoldwest @timothylawrence @vieille-femme-moisie

@full---ofstarlight @ottobooty @left4dead @covenscribe

@lovedu @astarionsdarling @wormskul @ratscrap @darkwehl

@andrwminward @ch3rrybomb @vanoefucks @charico

@prettyjellyfish @cavesallegory @rosenfey @velnat004

@panicbroadcast @jerichoes @mt07131 @censorship

[measuredingold]

more cuddling with noah, but written properly 🥲 very short so i’m not considering this a fic so no word count and will probably tag this as a headcanon <3 anyways enjoy

cw/tw: fluff fluff fluff that’s literally it

A sigh from the top of the stairs breaks you out of your doom scrolling, eyes looking up from your phone to find Noah already staring at you.

His brows were furrowed and lips set in a deep frown, and the bags under his eyes made it clear he's been up a lot longer than you realized. Your eyes drop to your phone again to check the time, finding yourself frowning that it's well into the evening, and this is your first time seeing Noah since breakfast.

You look up. "Hi baby."

He sighs again before trudging down the steps, and you can practically see the heaviness of whatever is on his mind weighing on him. You shift on the couch to get in a much more comfortable position, back pressed into the cushions, and your arms opening once Noah gets closer to you. He gently falls onto you with a groan before wrapping his arms around your middle the best he can.

"Hi." He mumbles, face burying against the crook of your neck. One of your hands immediately finds a way to his hair, fingers carding through it while the other rests on his back.

"What's up?"

You feel his body slowly start to melt into yours, burrowing himself closer to you. You shiver at the feeling of his hands sliding up under your shirt, cool to the touch.

"Can't get this one part right." His voice is muffled against your neck and you can barely understand him, but don't bother moving him. You know this is the first time all day he's been semi-relaxed. "Pissing me off."

"Take a break, honey."

"I am." Noah groans. "Right now. Gimme like... 10 minutes, then I'll head back up."

You laugh softly, scratching at his scalp gently before smoothing down his hair. "You need a much longer break than that. How long have you been at it?"

"Uh..." It takes much longer for him to respond, brain probably fried from staring at his screen for so long. "Sometime this morning?"

"I figured that much. You were working before I even got up."

"Needed to get a head start on it." He yawns loudly then and tries to snuggle his body closer to yours, fingers digging into the skin at your sides.

"You can work on it tomorrow." You can't stop the frown forming on your lips, hand running up and down his back. "When was the last time you ate something?"

"...This morning."

"Noah."

"I knooow." It comes out as a whine and you can't help but laugh again, turning your head to press a kiss to the side of his head. "I forgot. Too caught up in the song. I didn't realize how much time had passed until like, 30 minutes ago."

"Want me to make you something? Or takeout?"

Another long moment of silence follows your question, and you think briefly that maybe he had already fallen asleep, the exhaustion catching up to him. Eventually you hear him make a noise and wiggle his body closer to yours, nose pressing against the base of your neck.

"...Takeout?"

"We can do that. Chinese?" Noah nods against you. "Want me to order it now?"

"In a second." He sighs out and you can't help but shiver at the feeling of his breath against your neck. "I just wanna lay here for a while longer."

You practically melt at his words and your hand drops from his hair to wrap your arms around him fully. You wish it was under better circumstances, but you loved whenever he was in one of these moods. Where he needed to be as close to you as possible, practically needing to live in your skin to feel somewhat sane. You squeeze him to your chest, feeling him try to wiggle his way closer to you.

"Whatever you want, my love."

He practically purrs at that and your face flushes when you feel the brush of his lips against your skin.

"Thank you." He murmurs in response before relaxing against your chest again, letting out a deep sigh you think he's been holding in.

You don't say anything, just squeeze him tighter to you as you both lay there in silence, basking in the comfort of each other.

[letmetellyouaboutmyfeels]

WIP Wednesday

I was tagged by @tizniz and I gotta say I cannot believe it's halfway through September already and I will probably once again be working on these fics up until like the day before I post them.

Do not let me do this with my novels dear god.

ANYWAY...

Eddie reaches him first, pulling him in, hand warm and wide on Buck’s side. He smells so good, Buck wants to bury his face in Eddie’s neck and inhale him. But that would be insane, so he lets himself get passed off to Bobby instead. There’s cake, and delicious food, and Chris made him a card that says Buck is his best friend, which might be the greatest present anyone’s ever given him. If he cries for a minute about it in the bathroom, nobody has to know. He gets a piece of cake and watches Maddie laugh, carefree, watches how she and Chimney orbit each other around the backyard. He watches Eddie and Karen chat while Hen shows him something on her phone, watches Chris scrape his icing to the side so he can have just the cake, and he thinks— It’s almost perfect. That almost lodges in his throat, even as he laughs, and he has to cough. And then cough again. It’s not—it’s a literal—why can’t he—he can’t— He chokes, and chokes, and chokes, and it all goes black.

*smiling sweetly*

[animementrash]

Defense Force members and how they act as boyfriends.

Characters: Soshiro Hoshina, Gen Narumi, Hibino Kafka, Reno Ichikawa Tags: Headcannons, some may be ooc?, fluff, probably crack. A/N: I've been writing so much Levi stuff (and there's more in the queue ngl) so I wanted to do a quick refresh and write some HCs of these lovely men. I really enjoyed Kaiju no.8 and think it's such a cool show. 10/10 reccomend watching it. (Just don't read the manga unless you want to suffer).

Soshiro Hoshina

A very laid-back kind of partner, has nothing against PDA but is very rare for him to be over affectionate in public.

Loves to hear you talk, his favorite type of date is a coffee date where he can have a warm drink and listen to you speak for hours.

Will gift you books and randomly quiz you about them, if you didn’t like the book, he’ll take a mental note and avoid gifting you anything about that genre for a while.

His love language is physical touch, he definitely has to be touching you in some way all the time. Whether is holding your hand, playing with your hair or even pinching your cheeks.

Loves to bully you and tease you, has many nicknames and pet names for you.

Gen Narumi

Needs your attention ALL THE TIME. Gets really whiny if you don’t pay attention to him.

Loves to nap with you, he’s always down for some cuddles or just lay in bed with you.

Gets quite competitive if you play videogames with him, will let you win if you offer to pepper his face with kisses though.

His love language is gift giving, will spoil you rotten with gifts and trinkets he finds online and thinks you’d like.

Pretends to hate when you offer to do his skincare but is secretly so happy that you’re pampering like that.

Posts your photos in all his social media accounts and makes sure people knows who you are.

Hibino Kafka

A very loving and sweet partner, will always have time for you no matter how tired he is.

Will listen to you ramble as much as you need, if you want advice, he’ll do his best to give you some, if you just want to complain then he’ll happily listen.

Loves to bond with you over food, he’s a pretty good cook and loves to make you new dishes and have stay-at-home dates.

He’s your #1 fan and supporter, is always cheering you on and making sure you feel happy.

Loves to tell you dad jokes.

Reno Ichikawa

The sweetest boyfriend, very perceptive to your likes and needs.

Loves to hold your hand and usually plays with your fingers when holding it.

If you’re also part of the defense force, he’ll train with you as much as you want. Doesn’t go easy on you but is also hyper aware of his movements and tries his best to not hurt you.

Is constantly creating music playlists for you to listen to; They can range from sweet and romantic to weird ass music he likes and wants your opinion of.

Also loves stay-at-home dates where he gets the chance to cook for you.

[how2dream]

epiphany

you and spencer are best friends. a conversation after movie night changes your relationship for the better.

pairing: spencer reid x bau fem!reader genre: fluff!!!!! tags: pet names, mutual pining, best friends to lovers, love confessions, kissing, cuddling, mid to late seasons spencer word count: ~1k

It’s late Friday evening when you finally leave the BAU and head to Spencer’s apartment for movie night. The tradition started when you first joined the team, and you hope that it will continue to last for as long as you know him. It’s something you both look forward to at the start of every week.  

When you get to his place, a sense of calm washes over you, the stress from work instantly leaving your body. You gather snacks from his kitchen and sit down on the couch, close enough to feel the warmth he radiates. This time it’s your turn to choose the movie. Neither of you are surprised when you pick a rom-com, your favorite genre to watch. Spencer pretends to be annoyed by it, but you know he secretly enjoys them. Even if he won’t ever openly admit it.

It isn’t until the end of the movie that you regret your decision. The two main characters end up confessing their love for each other after a scene filled with tension, their lips colliding in a passionate kiss. You hold your breath, your muscles tense. Spencer’s gaze is burning into the side of your head, and it makes butterflies fill your stomach. 

You’re quick to shut the TV off as soon as the credits start rolling. It’s only then that you realize how late it’s gotten after glancing at your watch, the time reading close to midnight. 

“I should probably get going,” you say quietly, still avoiding Spencer’s gaze by keeping yours focused on your lap. 

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be out by yourself this late at night. Can you stay over, please?” he asks. 

You nod and finally look up at him, your cheeks warming at the clear concern evident in his features. “Yeah, I can stay,” you say, then frown. “I don’t have any of my things, though.” 

“That’s okay. You can wear something of mine, and I have extra toothbrushes.”

“Oh,” you breathe. “Thanks.” 

Once you’re finished getting ready for bed, you stand there in Spencer’s bedroom, biting your lip as you rock on the balls of your feet. He gives you a curious look as he slips under the covers. 

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah! Fine, I just—I think I’ll take the couch—”

“You’re not taking the couch,” Spencer cuts you off with a shake of his head. “I think there’s enough room in here for the both of us.”

You gulp. “Are you sure? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

He says your name softly, and a look of confusion crosses over his face. “You don’t make me uncomfortable, I promise.” 

A deep breath passes through your lips as you nod. With your heart feeling like it’s about to leap out of your chest, you cross the room to the other side of the bed and crawl under the covers. You lie there stiff as a board while Spencer reaches over to shut off the lamp on his bedside table, shrouding the room in darkness. You exchange soft goodnights before a comfortable silence settles over the two of you like a warm blanket. 

Not even a few seconds have passed before you speak again, unable to relax enough to fall asleep. “Spence?” 

You watch as he shifts to face you, his eyes roaming over your features once he settles again. “What’s up?”

“Do you… do you believe in love at first sight?” you ask softly. “You know, how it was for the characters in the movie?” 

He’s quiet as he takes the time to think of his answer before he responds. “No. At least, I don’t think I did before.” 

“What changed your mind?” you ask, frowning.

Spencer gazes at you for a few moments, his tongue darting out quickly to lick his lips. “You did.” 

Your mouth drops open and you stare at him, your heartbeat loud in your ears. Did he just say what you think he said? You try to formulate an articulate response, but he’s rendered your mind completely blank. All that you can come up with is a single word. 

“What?” 

A small smile curves his lips, and you’re close enough to him to notice his cheeks turning a visible shade of red even without any light to see by. “It happened the first day I met you at the BAU.” 

Your heart rolls into a never ending somersault. “Spence.” 

“Yeah?” he asks softly.

“You… you’re saying that you love me?” you manage to whisper.

He nods and reaches forward to cradle your cheek, his hand nearly encompassing the side of your face. The pads of his fingers are feather-light against your skin, warmth seeping from his palm, and you lean into his touch. “Of course I do, angel,” he says, the words filled with so much adoration that it makes your eyes water, your breath catching in your throat at the pet name. 

“I—I love you, too.”

Spencer beams, and the sight makes your heart flutter. “Can I kiss you?” he asks shyly. His voice rises an octave, something that you’ve heard so many times, but you never thought that you’d be the cause of it. 

You nod. He’s still grinning when he scoots closer to you and presses his lips to yours, kissing you like he’s a man starved and you’re his last meal. You respond instantly with just as much fervor. The two of you are breathless when you break apart, the sound of your soft pants filling the space between you. Then you start to giggle, and so does he, and it might be one of your favorite sounds in the world. When you both finally start to calm down, you’re still grinning as you gaze at each other. 

“Goodnight, Spence,” you say. 

He slips an arm around your waist and tugs you close to him so that your chests are pressed together. His legs tangle with yours, and soon you’re so entwined that you’re not sure where he ends and you begin. Your eyes flutter shut when you feel him press a feather-light kiss your forehead. 

“Goodnight, sweet girl.”

[firenati0n]

hello friends :) i am so sorry i have been...so behind on all things tag games and writing challenges. i have been riding the struggle bus and i am Doing My Best but a lot of things have suffered in the meantime, like writing consistently. thank you so much for continuing to tag me in these, it means a lot that people think of me or read my work. i will always be grateful for my friends and readers and everyone who shows me kindness. anyway, many thanks as always! <3 much love for y'all.

i have been posting random prompt fics and drabbles here and there, while slowly updating people ruin people as inspiration strikes. I also made a fun graphic for proposal au and people ruin people! i hope to get back into the swing of things soon. not rushing it though, because rest is important. but i don't do well with stillness, you know? I'm not used to that. but i hope y'all have enjoyed the random words in recent weeks! i have written some things I'm very proud of and happy with in the prompt collection especially. and people ruin people is truly a stretch of my writing muscles...I'm not used to angst. but it's fun! it's hard, too. but so far people have been very kind about it!

here's a long snip from a flufftober prompt for ingredients and spells, it will be a little sequel / extension of the kiki's delivery service au / warlock!henry and baker!alex i posted a while back!

Henry is eight, and he can’t sleep.  The trees outside are too big, their shadows too scary in his window as the wind makes the branches thump against the glass. He rubs at his eyes before digging his head in his pillow again, hoping sleep claims him. From underneath his door, light filters in from the hallway—his mother is probably in the kitchen, grinding herbs and ingredients for her potions.  If there’s anyone who can help him, it’s her. “Oh, my little love,” she says, when Henry walks into the kitchen, knowing he looks as miserable as he feels. “Are we having trouble sleeping?” He nods. “I have just the thing.” She flits around, grabbing leaves and powders from the cupboard to grind before mixing everything in a pot. The smell of chamomile and honey fills the kitchen, warm and comforting.  She pours the potion into two mugs and hands one to Henry with a soft smile. “This should help, my darling. Here, I’ll drink it with you.” They both sip their drinks in comfortable silence. Henry can already feel the magical effects of the brew in his body, limbs starting to sag, head feeling heavy. His eyelids flutter, and Catherine notices.  “Up we go,” she says, before putting the mugs in the sink and scooping Henry up in her arms. He is warm, and he is safe, and he is sleepy.  After he’s all tucked in, duvet up to his chin, he sneaks an arm out to clutch his mother’s shirt as she moves to get off the bed.  “Please,” he pleads quietly. "Not yet." She settles in next to him, slender fingers carding through his hair as she hums. He drifts off, the smell of tea and honey blanketing him. He never learns what was in the brew. Catherine calls it her secret recipe, just for Henry. 

xoxo roop

+ open tag + tagging back everyone who got me in the past few weeks. it's been a while afjslkdjfklasdf

@seths-rogens @sherryvalli @sophie1973 @orchidscript @cha-melodius

@whimsymanaged @kiwiana-writes @alasse9 @porcelainmortal @wordsofhoneydew

@firstprincehornyramblings @run-for-chamo-miles @miharaikko @blueeyedgrlwrites @onthewaytosomewhere

@cultofsappho @ninzied @sparklepocalypse @clottedcreamfudge @zwiazdziarka

@clockwrkpendrxgon @milowren29 @thesleepyskipper @msmarvelouswinchester @caterpills

@suseagull04 @judasofsuburbia @getmehighonmagic @onward--upward @stellarmeadow

@welcometololaland @indestructibleheart @miss-minnelli @thedramasummer @priincebutt

@incalamity @stratocumulusperlucidus @leaves-of-laurelin @14carrotghoul @anincompletelist

[katareyoudrilling]

Audience of One (Dave York one-shot)

Pairing: Bodyguard Dave York x Female Reader

Summary: When online comments threaten your safety, you reluctantly agree to hire a bodyguard

Word count: ~3k

Rating: Explicit (18+ only. NO MINORS)

Content Warnings: a bit of danger, masturbation, unprotected PIV (please use protection IRL), a hickey (sort of)

A/N: This is my entry for @burntheedges Roll-a-Trope challenge! I got famous person AU and twisted it to fit my very niche tastes lol.  It has been quite a while since I posted something, thanks for hanging in there with me.  I really hope you enjoy it! Big thanks to @burntheedges for the beta 😘

Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!

Dave York Masterlist

Masterlist

Taglist – link in my bio or let me know!

“I really think you’re overreacting.”  You finish cleaning off your instrument and securing it in your case.

“I’m not and it’s not open to discussion.” 

You sigh.  “I’m a concert violinist, not a movie star.  No one is out to ‘get me’ or whatever.  This is ridiculous.”

“It’s not ridiculous,” your manager forces you to meet her gaze.  “There have been emails, social media posts… I know you don’t want to believe it, but there are creeps out there focused on you.  I need you to be safe.”

She’s looking at you with so much care and concern that the fight leaves your body.  “Fine.  Send him in.”

“Thank you.”  She turns to open the door to the dressing room and gestures to someone in the hallway.  You gather the rest of your things into your bag and prepare to head to your hotel.

Your manager steps back into the room trailed by a tall, broad, dark-haired, incredibly attractive man in an overcoat.

“Meet Dave York, your bodyguard.”

. . . . . . . . . .

“I’m really sorry about this,” you apologize for the tenth time since getting into the back of the town car with your new bodyguard in tow. “All this fuss is unnecessary.”

Dave regards you across the darkened backseat.  “Your manager doesn’t think so and neither do I.  The sooner you accept my help, the better this will go.”

You lose your train of thought as the streetlights sweep across his gorgeous features.  His pouty lips… his aquiline nose… his strong jaw… his dark eyes… each feature takes its turn in the lamplight.  It’s probably for the best, taking him in all at once might actually kill you.  No one has the right to be this handsome.

You shake yourself out of your reverie and find Dave watching you closely.  You look away quickly, shifting your focus out your window.  You cross your legs, and the slit of your dress opens, revealing your legs up to mid-thigh.  You quickly adjust the skirt to cover yourself and tell yourself that you’re imagining Dave’s eyes flickering away.

You clear your throat, “Right, umm… how is this going to go, exactly?”

“I’ll be with you during the day.  When you return to your hotel room at night, I’ll hand off responsibility to my security team.  There will be extra security at your concerts and events as well.”

“That doesn’t sound too intrusive.”

“It shouldn’t be.”

“I hope you like classical music.”

“We’ll find out.”

. . . . . . . . . . .

And that’s how it goes.  Dave meets you outside your door when you’re ready to leave in the morning and accompanies you on each step of your schedule.  He tags along to masterclasses, rehearsals, concerts, and your own practice sessions.  Ushering you in and out of town cars and back exits.

You share brief conversations in the car.  His dry, sarcastic wit comes out little by little as you spend time with him.  He often makes you laugh and you thrill when his pouty lips tilt at the edges into a wry smirk at something you said.

He leaves you at your hotel room door in each city at the end of the day, waiting until you close the door to call his security team.

You don’t lean against the door and wonder where he goes after he’s with you.  That would be inappropriate.

You don’t replay the events of the day, the glances, the almost touches, that assuredly exist only in your own imagination.

You don’t catalog the little things you’ve learned about him.  Single.  No kids.  Ex-military.  Coffee, black.  Unexpected crinkles around the eyes when he smiles.

You don’t seek him out in the concert halls, looking for a sign that he enjoys the music you’re making, always finding him watching you intently from backstage, still and focused.

You don’t find yourself pulling out your favorite toy to relieve some tension more and more frequently as the days spent in his company add up.

Definitely not.

. . . . . . . . . .

“You played something different tonight.” Dave’s deep voice breaks the silence of the car. 

You hum your assent, “Sarasate’s Carmen Fantasy.  It’s a real crowd pleaser.”

“I didn’t know a violin could do that.”

You chuckle, “Yeah, the soloist gets to show off in that one.”

“You like to show off, don’t you?”

The energy in the car shifts in an instant.  Dave’s dark eyes are even darker than usual as he regards you across the cab.  The question hangs heavy in the air.  

“You have to like to show off to do my job,” you explain a bit breathlessly.  You meet his dark gaze, and he hums in approval.  “Do you like to show off, Dave?”

He drags his thumb across his lower lip, your eyes can’t help but follow the movement.

“No, I don’t like to show off.  I like to watch.”

His words hit you like an electrical current, zinging across your skin, breaking you out into full body goose bumps.

You hold each other’s gaze in the dark, your breath coming in increasingly erratic pants.  He doesn’t look away.  Neither do you.

You cross your legs and allow your skirt to fall open up your legs, just like the first night you were in the car with him.  This time, the dress has an even higher slit—you save this particular gown for when you perform the Carmen, you enjoy playing into the persona.  This time, you don’t cover up.

You watch as his gaze flickers to your bare legs, exposed practically all the way to your underwear, the tip of his tongue sneaks out to wet his plush lips.

He drags his eyes back up to yours.  The air is thick with possibility.  A line has definitely been crossed.  Words begin to bubble up from your gut when the car pulls to a stop in front of the hotel.

The moment pops like a balloon.

Dave opens his door and swings up and out of the car.  In a haze, you open your door and step out into the night.

The next moments go by in a flash.

You hear someone shout your name, Dave yells, you’re shoved against the car, unfamiliar hands grab your shoulders and whisk you into the hotel lobby and into the elevator.  The doors close before you can understand the commotion happening outside the hotel.

You’re flanked by security guards you’ve seen around after hours.  The words “assailant” “custody” “weapon” permeate the buzzing in your brain.  Questions form and dissipate in the tangle of your thoughts before you can get them out.

The elevator doors open on your floor, and you are bodily moved into your hotel room.  Before they can close the door, you finally manage to ask what’s going on only to be met with vague instructions to stay in your room and wait.

You pace the floor and look out your window, hoping for a glimpse of what might be happening on the street below, but you’re on the wrong side of the building.  It doesn’t hold any answers for you.

Your hands reach for your phone only to realize it’s still in your bag in the car, along with your instrument case.

The car.

Your mind returns to that moment right before you pulled up to the hotel.  So ripe with promise and possibility.

Then you had gotten out of the car.

Oh shit.

You got out of the car yourself.  You opened your door yourself.  You weren’t supposed to do that. Dave opens your door.  Dave ushers you out of the car.

It’s all your fault.

Just as your thoughts threaten to spiral, there’s a firm knock on your door.

“It’s me.  Everything is ok. Open the door.” You hear Dave through the door.  You rush over and check the peephole like he told you to.  At least you can say you remembered to do that.  You confirm it’s him and open the door.

“Dave, I—”

He crashes into you, pressing you against the wall with the length of his body before claiming your mouth with a rough, desperate kiss.  His hands grip your chin, your shoulders, your hip as he devours your mouth.

Your hands scrabble against his chest, finding the lapels of his coat to hang on.

Just as suddenly as you found yourself kissing Dave, you aren’t.  He pulls back abruptly leaving you cold and breathless.

“Fuck, I shouldn’t ha—”

You pull him back to you by his coat, drawing his mouth back to yours.  You lick into his mouth, moaning as he responds.

This kiss is less frantic, but still full of need.  Your tongues tangle together, tasting and testing.

Dave eventually breaks away, resting his forehead against yours.

“Are you ok?”

“Yes, I’m ok, but what happened?”

“A man came running toward you, the police have him now.  I’m sure it’s the person making those creepy comments about you online.”

“I got out of the car by myself, Dave, I’m so sorry, I know I’m n—”

“Shh,” he hushes you.  “It’s ok.  You’re ok.”

He presses his lips to yours, swallowing your protests, until you melt into him.

“I’ve wanted to do this for so long.” He drags his lips down your throat, across your collarbones and shoulders.  He licks back up the side of your neck.

You gasp as he drags his tongue over the sensitive spot on your neck.

“I noticed this mark the night I first met you,” he murmurs into your skin. “I was so jealous of whoever got to do that to you.  I kept waiting to find out who it was, to see if they were worthy of marking your skin, but there has been no one and the mark has stayed.”  You sense the unasked question.

“My… it’s… a violin hickey,” you pant as he drags his nose up the column of your throat and along your jaw. “Where my violin rubs against my neck when I play.”  He chuckles.

“Should I be jealous of your violin?”

“Probably.”

He hums against you.  “Fair enough.”

He steps back to the hotel room door and for a moment your heart drops thinking that he might be leaving, but he only opens the door to pull your bag and violin case into the room.  You hear him conversing with a guard outside before he closes the door, locking the deadbolt before turning back to you.

He shrugs off his overcoat and suit jacket.  He loosens the knot of his tie and begins to unbutton the cuffs of his sleeves.  You watch the movement of his fingers with rapt attention.

“So, Miss Show off. Do you want to show off for me?”  His eyes flash dangerous and dark and a thrill runs up your spine.

Adrenaline tingles in your fingertips as you find the zipper of your dress and pull it down your side.

You lock eyes with Dave as you let your gown fall to the floor, a puddle at your feet.  You are left standing in only your panties and high heels.

Dave drinks you in, caressing your curves with his warm gaze.  Your nipples harden under his perusal and wetness pools between your legs.  It’s all you can do to not rub your thighs together.

“Get on the bed.” He commands, his voice deep and rasping with need.  His shirtsleeves are rolled up now, exposing the tendons and veins in his forearms.  His hands fist at his sides, clearly fighting the urge to touch you.  But you’ve learned this about Dave, he is always in control of himself.

You walk over to the bed, turning your back to him and adding an extra sway to your hips.  You catch his strangled moan at the sight of your round ass framed by the string of your thong.  You turn to sit at the end of the bed with a satisfied smirk.  Dave stands at arm’s length from you, pinning you with his dark eyes.

“Show me.  Let me see if those fingers can play your pussy as well as they play your violin.”

You gasp at his filthy words and your center clenches with need.  Keeping your eyes on him once again, you drag your panties down your legs and off, kicking off your shoes as you do, and scoot a bit farther onto the bed.

You lean back into the plush bedding, resting on one elbow, knees bent, and spread your legs for Dave.

He drinks you in hungrily as you part yourself for him, dipping your fingers into your wetness.

Your mouth falls open as you circle your clit, a moan escaping your chest.  You fight to keep your eyes open so you can watch Dave watch you.  You really do like to show off and he is an eager audience.

You quicken your pace, hitting the rhythm you like best, and find yourself careening towards your peak.  Your hips buck on the bed, and you whine that you’re close.

“Show me,” Dave commands one last time before you fall over the edge, pulsing and shivering through your release.

 “Do I get a standing ovation?” you ask, breathless, once you’ve come back to yourself. 

“You tell me.”

You crack one eye open and find that he’s standing at the end of the bed naked.  His cock juts proudly away from his hips at full attention.

“My favorite kind.” You lick your lips as you sit up and crawl to the edge of the bed.  You look up at him as you take the tip of his cock between your lips, sliding down the hard length of him.  You watch his stomach flex with effort as he resists fucking into your mouth.

It makes you want to make him lose control.  He’s always alert and watching.  Even in the car on the way to the hotel tonight, he kept his cool as you tempted him.  Bursting into your room to kiss you is the only time you’ve seen him not in complete control of himself.

You tongue and suck and moan around him, losing yourself in the rhythm.  Dave drags his fingers down your cheek and throat.  

“Look at you, fuck.” He cups your breasts, swaying heavily between your arms, and pinches your nipples.  “I want to watch these tits bounce while I fuck you.”

You whimper around his length, arousal practically dripping down your legs.  He pulls out of your mouth, diving down to kiss you deeply and press you backwards onto the bed.

He arranges himself against the headboard and drags you on top of him.  “Ride me, baby,” he commands.  You eagerly comply, lining his weeping cock up with your entrance.

Your eyes roll back in your head as you sink down onto him, the stretch is so delicious with every inch you take.  When you bottom out, you open your eyes to find Dave breathing hard, the tendons of his neck taut with effort.

You rise and sink back down slowly, angling yourself backwards so he can see his cock disappear into your wet heat.  He licks the pad of his thumb and reaches between you, giving you friction that makes you shudder with each roll of your hips.

“Fuck yes,” he groans, eyes locked on your greedy pussy, swallowing him whole.  You feel yourself start to flutter around him, the intensity of his eyes on you drives your arousal higher and higher.  Being watched with so much desire gives you such a thrill that your orgasm threatens to take you far too soon.

You slow and lean forward, placing a hand on the headboard over Dave’s head.  Your breasts wobble in front of his face and he quickly takes one nipple into his mouth.  You arch your back into him as he sucks and tugs, tongue swirling around the sensitive bud.

He holds your hips still with one hand as he feasts on you, bringing his other to cup and pinch your tender flesh.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you cry as the pressure builds in your core.  Your hips grind into him, seeking relief as he relentlessly toys with you.

He allows you to move, to chase your high, riding his cock with abandon as he looks up at you with lust blown eyes.  You tilt your hips, and he finds your clit once again.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he praises you as you near your peak.  “Come on my cock, baby.  I want to feel you.”

You come with a gasp, rising up on your knees as your pussy clenches then collapsing back down with shuddering pulses.  Dave caresses your back before rolling you over and gently pulling out.  He kneels between your legs, stroking his length, as you lie boneless and hazy.

“That was so fucking hot, baby.” His jaw clenches as he strokes himself faster and faster.  “I fucking love to watch you.  Watch you play your violin… watch you touch yourself… watch you fuck…”

“It’s my turn, Dave,” you interrupt.  “I want to watch you come.  Come all over me.” You prop yourself up on your elbows and smirk at the way a shudder moves through his body.  He lets go with a groan, ropes of cum painting your tummy and chest.

You both collapse, satisfied.  Dave cleans you up, taking extra care with your breasts.  You smirk as he chases the warm cloth with his even warmer mouth.

“What happens now?” you ask later, when you’re twined together on the bed. “If that was the guy…”

“I’ll be here as long as you need me and even after you don’t,” Dave presses a kiss to the top of your head.  You snuggle into his side, relaxing in the knowledge that you are safe and thrilled with the prospect of showing off again for your audience of one.

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

A/N: I don't have, and never have had, a violin hickey. I probably don't practice enough lol. But they are often seen as a point of pride among violinists.

Dave York Masterlist

Masterlist

Taglist - in reblog

[vigilskeep]

do you have any refs for Minerva’s relationship with the other dao companions? I did not realize she and leliana was estranged 😭 also if im remembering correctly she makes loghain do the dark ritual? sorry I do like spinning her around in my head and knowing the little details she’s such a great character!!

leliana and minerva did not have a clear breakup in the alistair minerva sense but they did grow apart because of the simple reason that post dao minerva becomes politically at odds with the chantry while leliana is serving its leader. leliana is not a type of person minerva finds very easy to like or trust so while they did grow on each other over the course of dao they never had a simple friendship in the first place

alistair you probably know about bc its kind of the cornerstone of minervaposting but theres a post fully explaining it not much further down in her tag

zevran is her romance <3 i hesitate to use the word “soulmates” exactly but they definitely fit together in a way no other minerva pairing could match

morrigan she has a weird close complicated vaguely homosexual friendship with, i’m sure this is par for the course for f!wardens. they probably could have been in love if morrigan had been willing to pursue it in the start and if minerva hadn’t already gone for someone else by the end, and all that is unspoken but very present in everything about them

sten is i guess kind of the typical high approval relationship as presented in game? not much more unique. a lot of respect a lot of arguing a lot of dry humour. they could hang out in silence comfortably and they’re also both know and respect that they’re very capable of killing the other if their greater purposes ever demand it

oghren she kind of doesn’t pay much mind in origins when she doesn’t have to but he becomes part of the family in awakening. they bond over having their insane shared experiences of the blight, and also over him trying to quit drinking and her trying to quit blood magic which leads to some really wild out of context conversations for the others. and hey, eventually over first attempting to parent at similar times

wynne she has a bit of a sharp relationship with. i think this could vary a lot if i pick her up earlier, but in my main minerva playthrough i picked her up late by which time minerva had absolutely no fucking interest in getting the kind of lectures she grew up with. sorry grandma </3

uhhhh who else. shale idk man im sorry for being a fake fan but shale’s dlc truly does nothing for me it’s unfunny and i dont think abt it at all 💔 this would be written in less harsh terms if i wasnt sleepy

loghain is. well that’s a kettle of fish. minerva spares him because it happens to be a preferable move for her agenda and her way of thinking, it’s not rlly about him as a person at all. she doesn’t absolve him of anything he did, like, she still thinks he’s a bastard it’s just that she doesn’t really believe at all in the concept of justice being done if it doesn’t serve a purpose. when he’s in the party they do build up respect and a weird kind of friendship. he sucks and she’s bitter about what sparing him cost her, but that isn’t relevant, it’s not going to stop her learning from him, or fighting at his side as the best team she can quickly make them, or simply finding him entertaining to talk to. so by the end it’s as a friend that she asks him to do the dark ritual, whatever that means. post dao she agrees with weisshaupt that him being assigned outside of ferelden is wise but they continue to write to each other extremely regularly, mostly on matters of news and strategy but occasionally on the more personal

is that everyone i think thats everyone

[rosewaterandivy]

summer soldier, sunshine patriot

a little amuse bouche for aim low, aim true that’s been knockin’ around the ol’ dome for a while. enjoy 💜

And the guy, no older than Eddie and barely able to grow a beard, caught it in the gut before collapsing in a heap at his feet. Panicked, Eddie drags the soldier toward the cover of trees, yells out “Medic! Medic!” and tries to soothe the rattle of death as best he can even as his voice shakes: “You’re gonna be fine, pal. Help is on the way.”

In the letter sent home to his family, along with his dog tags and personal effects, the acting captain will relay his sympathies to the bereaved back home. He will write that the soldier died quickly and with honor.

This is a lie, of course. The poor bastard died screaming.

Sometimes, it’s all Eddie can see when he shuts his eyes.

Sleep never comes easy.

Men grunting and grumbling, lost in a haze heat thousands miles away from home. You sleep with one eye open, if you sleep at all. An ear to the ground for any hushed footfalls or artillery fire, a radio crackling to life.

A hand on your gun, fingering the trigger if you’re the unlucky sonovabitch on lookout duty. Even then, Eddie keeps his rifle close because some of these boys are greener than the grass he’d laid on back home, back when things weren’t so dire.

The helmet on his head shifts with a soft rattle as he seeks what little comfort there is in a hastily dug foxhole. He licks his lips and tilts his face up to see the dark sky dusted with stars.

Sometimes, if he can just close his eyes, he’ll feel the grip of your hand on his jaw. Taste the waxy floral red of your lipstick as it smears against his mouth— that vibrant pillar-box red. The smell of sweat and bodies, the faint lingering of soap, how the fading light illuminated your hungry gaze. How you looked at him easy and open.

“Jesus,” He says, running a desperate hand down his face, “Fuck.” Thunks his head on the earthen wall behind him, embarrassingly hard. Could come in a minute if he let himself think about it; less, probably.

In the distance, he hears soft popping sounds. Someone curses as something thuds into the camp. A crackle of radio static before Malone bellows:

“Fire-in-the-hole!”

_

Steve is not a religious man, but as they say, there are no atheists in foxholes.

There’s a bulletproof Bible in his chest pocket, right over his heart.

He’s never cracked the spine, save to open the cover and slot your picture inside. It doesn’t do you justice, but it’ll have to do until he’s back on American soil.

His letters home are all redacted and he couldn’t say where he was precisely if pressed. Currently, he’s somewhere in France about five kilometers due east of the target.

The jump had been fucked from the start and everyone knew it. Night missions are a crap shoot at best and a cluster at worst. The plane had sustained heavy fire to one of the turbines, only to lose it mid-flight.

And the act of jumping itself wasn’t the problem, paratroopers were trained and drilled for weeks on end for this, in addition to their combat, reconnaissance, and medical training. In fact, Steve found the brief moments mid-air before the chaos descended, to be rather freeing.

It was on the ground that things tended to go sideways.

He cuts the lead from the parachute and stuffs the slippery silk into his pack. Men drop softly in the field around him and quickly do the same. He can hear the artillery fire in the distance, can see the bright glow of fires as they burn the village to the ground.

And, for the briefest of moments, Steve wonders if this can possibly be real. How can he be in France stationed in the western theater of war, while you’re back home with his class ring on your pretty little finger? This was all clearly a catastrophic mistake, a visceral nightmare he’s sure to wake from.

”Steve,” your voice says in that husky tone he loves so much, “You come back to me, you hear?”

He thanks his lucky stars that the top brass made them write out wills and designate next of kin before shipping out. Feels like he’s spelled your name out a million times, to the secretaries with their typewriters, the doctors, and his CO; yes sir, that’s my next of kin. Lives in Hawkins, Indiana, mark her down.

The men from his company are scattered across the fields of Normandy and they need to get to rally point. Steve drags a finger along his neck feeling for the gold chain of your locket. His thumb worries against the smooth back of the heart-shaped pendant. He brings it to his lips, warmed from his heaving chest.

Kisses it once for luck, and tucks it underneath his jacket.

He loads his rifle and creeps through the tall grass as mortar shells fall softly in the early morning light.

[sixerstanley]

i’ve been thinking about fujoshi bill being best friends with fujo mabel all day. it’s just so perfect, the embodiment of chaos being best friends with the coolest teenage girl and a hardcore fujo both gossiping. non-stop talking every night about how badly stan and ford want each other and it’s hilarious if bill changes his demeanor because of good doujinshis that mabel sends him.

ITS LITERALLT THE FUNNIEST THING EVER, AND CREDIT FOR @cravingpepsimax FOR TALKING ABOUT IT WITH ME

LMAO it started because he made a post saying "I hope you read my posts in bills voice" and I made a joke about damn Bill you really want your ex and his brother to fuck huh. And then he made art of Bill with fanart and fujoing out and I tagged it with "Mabel and him start a shipping club" and it went from there babyyyy

We were also talking that after a certain amount of letters and general good behavior they allow Bill to start calling Mabel occasionally and I can just see like, Mabel picking up on some Moments™ between Stan and Ford and writing shit down to tell Bill. And then way way later she accidentally sees them kissing and screeches and is like I NEED TO MAKE A CALL

it's just genuinely fucking hilarious that he's actually starting to have an attachment to her from this. King shit.

God he probably gets invested about it too (shout out to my thumbs for accidentally typing "incested" you guys know what's up) and gets genuinely interested about how it's going between them. King shit as well

Anyways I'm glad you like it I love chatting about it

ALSO TUE DOUJINSHIS THING YES YES BILL GETS SO INTO THEM

[hippotooth]

OC Deep Dive Questions

Thank you for the tag, @theameba1436 ! This was fun to think about and answer!

I’m not sure who’s done this already or not, and no pressure of course, tagging:

@d-saster-chron-cles @dirgecomic @geckogeckogecko @sunflowergem @adorablebanite @archduchessgortash @mj-bites

@erme-aeterna-arts

Anyone else who sees this and is interested please feel free to join in too! I love getting to know the details of everyone's Tav/Durge.

Questions/Answers for my beloved durge ~Tuatha~ under the cut

What common/uncommon fear do they have?

Tua’s biggest fear is that she is unlovable and that getting close to her only brings suffering.

Do they have any pet peeves?

People being indecisive. She loses patience quickly when people dither about – particularly if someone changes a plan that’s already been committed to.

What are 3 items you can find in their bedroom?

A collection of fancy perfumes, neat looking bones, a well-cared for plant.

What do they notice first in a person?

Physical threat – Tua’s first assessment upon meeting someone is how easily she could take them in a fight, if they’re armed, etc. – like Mac’s Ocular Patdown from IASIP.  

On a scale from 1-10, how high is their pain tolerance?

10 – Tua handles pain easily, she’s quite used to it. She’s trained as a monk and has supreme body/mind control which she can distance herself from her body easily when anything gets too intense.

Do they go into fight or flight mode when under pressure?

Fight! Tua likes to fight and is often looking for an excuse to start one. She’s a resist durge, she tries to be ‘good,’ (if only to gain approval from others) but if she feels there’s any way she can justify the bloodshed, however flimsy the excuse, she’s happy to do so.

Do they come from a big family/are they a family person?

Tua is a durge character. She never knew her mother and was bounced around between foster families in Baldur’s Gate for most of her childhood. Many of these families were abusive towards her and she was eventually taken into the Bhaal temple after killing one of them. She does not claim any family.

What animal represents them best?

Mongoose!

What is a smell they dislike?

Tua doesn’t like the smell of cities – she gets overwhelmed and irritated by the fusion of smells you find in them – cooking odors, waste, animals, wells, smoke – all these smells individually are fine but their fusion in an urban setting offends her.

Have they broken any bones?

Many at various points, she doesn’t remember most of them.

How would a stranger likely describe them?

Off-putting and intense. Tua vacillates between being very intense and smiley when trying to appear friendly or intensely withdrawn. She has very limited social skills.

Are they a night owl, or morning bird?

No preference! I’d say most consistently she likes transitional hours, like dawn and dusk.

What’s a flavor they hate and a flavor they love?

Tua adores bitter flavors and her favorite food is leafy greens. She hates the taste of fatty meat.

Do they have any hobbies?

Tua likes collecting perfumes and the fancy bottles they come in. She initially started stealing them from her victims as a trophy – she enjoyed bathing herself in the scent of her victims, being able to walk amongst the city cloaked in a symbol of her kill with no one the wiser. Once Gortash noticed this hobby he took to gifting her luxurious perfumes as well.

Tua also like keeping dangerous animals as pets, gnolls are a particular favorite of hers. She spends time researching different creatures and doing experiments to see how they may survive in captivity.

Boom, surprise birthday party! How do they react to surprise?

“You like me, you really like me!!” Tua would be very happy anyone cared enough about her to throw her a party. She would probably cry.

Do they like to wear jewelery?

Tua enjoys jewelry, however, she finds it can be a hazard while fighting so she rarely wears it. She normally has some stud earrings in. She likes to steal jewelry and gift it to her lovers, she enjoys dressing them up.

Do they have neat or messy handwriting?

Extremely messy.

What are the two emotions they feel the most?

Shame and longing

Do they have a favourite fabric?

Linen – breathable, easy to move and fight in, easy to clean

What kind of accent do they have?

The standard in-game accent

[warlocksoup]

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖ AKAASHI KEIJI undone ⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖ CHAPTER ONE: evidence

HOW TO TRICK THE LOVE OF YOUR LIFE INTO DATING YOU BY DATING SOMEONE ELSE (YOUR BEST FRIEND)(JUST PRETEND THOUGH)

STEP ONE: GET YOUR MOST PUSHOVER, IN LOVE WITH YOU FRIEND TO AGREE

She tries to say no, at first, for the sake of preserving at least some of her dignity. But it’s Akaashi. She was always going to say yes, eventually.

“I dunno,” she pretends to muse, slumped out on the couch with her fingers deftly moving from button to button on the controller in her hands, eyes narrowed at the television screen in front of her. “Do you really want to start out being like, deceptive? Doesn’t seem like the best way to get a girl’s attention.”

Akaashi groans, head dropping back and his arms thrown up, exasperated and defeated. “Yeah, I know, but I’ve tried everything else, and nothing gets her attention. But if she sees you, a pretty, cool girl, going out with me, then maybe she, another, pretty, cool girl, will start to see me as someone dateable.”

She snorts. “Are we in junior high? What the fuck kind of logic is that?”

He drops on the couch opposite her. “I know, it’s just,” he pauses, and sighs, “I’m desperate.”

She allows herself a string of self-lambasting thoughts, centered mainly around how pathetic she is for that selfish lurch in her chest. To say yes would be to take advantage of her best friend’s desperation, allowing him to play pretend and act out some of her most suppressed fantasies, for some plot to get the girl that, in the end, probably won’t work. She swallows and tries to make him change his mind once again. “I really don’t think this would even work, Kaashi.”

“Yeah, but I’m driving myself crazy,” he insists as her thumbs start to button-smash frantically, “and you’re the only person I trust enough to do this with. I know it’s stupid I just have to try something.”

She’s reached the end of her protests. The screen in front of her flashes red, and the word DEATH splays across her vision; she sighs. Her head lops to the side, and she blinks at a wide-eyed, completely desperate Akaashi. “Fine.”

STEP TWO: START PLANTING FALSIFIED EVIDENCE

Akaashi’s hand is intertwined with her. She stares down at it and tries to memorize it. The way his fingers look pressed into her skin, how it feels. The warmth. The callouses. The way their forearms press together and settle in the space between their thighs. Her nail polish is chipped. His thumbs are wide. The slight rocking of the train slightly rocks them, and their bodies move in tandem without trying.

Akaashi leans back slightly and uses his free hand to take a photo.

“Here,” he says after a moment of contemplation, shoving his phone in her face. “How does that look?”

Maybe she looks for too long, but there’s something off about it. It looks so much more contrived, converted to pixels on the screen of his phone. Or maybe it’s just that it’s harder to pretend this isn’t a ploy for someone else’s attention when his affection is documented like that. When she looks at her hand in his in a photo it’s a reminder that this is simply evidence captured just to inspire jealously.

Her eyes drift between the screen and the hands between her. He hasn’t let go yet, which she’s trying not to read into. “Yeah, that’s good.”

“Good,” he says, his thumb tapping against her knuckle. She watches as he opens Instagram. “Should I tag you?”

She shakes her head. “No, let people wonder who it is, at first. Maybe she’ll ask.”

This brings a slight smile to Akaashi’s face, and it makes her feel oddly sick.

Ever since he asked her, she’s given into a few delusions, considering it a serious possibility that this could just be Akaashi’s convoluted, roundabout way of getting closer to her. An excuse to hold her and post pictures of her and maybe even kiss her, eventually. That maybe he wants her just as badly as she wants him.

But no amount of mental gymnastics or bending of logic can deny that unabashed giddiness at the mere suggestion that she might speak to him. It’s hard for her to deny, when he talks to her like it’s nothing, when he holds her hand like it’s nothing.

She swallows and bounces her knee. “What are you going to tell people? I mean, like, when they ask about how we got together.”

Akaashi shrugs. There’s something loading on his phone screen as he lowers it to look at her. “I dunno. Maybe that one night we just like, hooked up and then decided to date.”

“That’s it?”

“Yeah, is that bad?”

“No,” she offers with a slight shake of her head. It feels bad. It feels the same way food poisoning or maybe the plague would. But she can’t logically explain that one, so she just says, “That should work, I guess.”

STEP THREE: LEAN INTO THE RUMORS GOING AROUND (THAT YOU STARTED)(ON PURPOSE)

INSTAGRAM akaashikeiji has tagged you in a post!

INSTAGRAM kuroo_tetsuro: bro that’s for sure you in akaashi’s post kuroo_tetsuro: since when are you guys going out???

IMESSAGE yukie: you and akaashi are dating?? since when??

IMESSAGE iwa: so were you planning on tell me that you started going out with someone?

INSTAGRAM heyheyheybokuto commented on akaashikeiji’s post: HOLY SHIT IS THAT WHO I THINK IT IS? alisahaibi commented on akaashikeiji’s post: aww so cute! love you two

IMESSAGE kaashi: holy shit did that just work

The constant buzzing of her phone provides a pretty consistent distraction from her essay on the socioeconomic conditions of the working class that led to the Bolshevik revolution. Her head is swirling with thoughts of Akaashi’s post and the failed provisional government.

Her face drops to her hands, and her phone continues to buzz on the desk beside her, just as her laptop screen goes dark, nudging her unfinished essay out of her thoughts.

She takes a moment to press the palms of her hands into her eye sockets, enjoying the pressure and the way shapes sprout up behind her closed eyelids. Akaashi’s sitting out in their living room, probably, phone in his hands staring at notification from Alisa.

He’s probably going through her account, looking through her posts, careful not to let his thumb slip and like something on accident. He’s probably smiling down at her smile, heart pounding in his chest as he thinks about her and whatever comment she left on his post.

Akaashi’s been in love with her this whole time. For as long as they’ve been friends, for as long as she’s known him; his love for her completely integrated into his personality. When prompted to list what he likes about her, he will ramble about her sweetness and beauty and her intelligence. He will list off things that Alisa has and she lacks: grace in social situations, a distinct and unique sense of style, her ability to read and understand the people around her so easily.

It seems like, everything there is to Alisa, Akaashi loves it. Whatever it is.

Her phone buzzes again. She reaches for it.

IMESSAGE iwa: you can tell me about things, yknow

Her tongue twists in her mouth, and her head bangs. It crosses her mind, briefly, that this is a bad idea, and the fallout is not worth the maybe few weeks where she can hold Akaashi’s hand and pretend that he feels an ounce of what she feels for him.

She clicks on the notification from him, the post he tagged her in, and is surprised to see her own face, grinning back at her, bare-faced and nose scrunched. There are freckles on her face she didn’t hadn’t ever noticed before. She didn’t know he had this photo. He captioned it: My pretty girl.

It’s worth, she decides instantly. It’s so immediately worth it.

She opens up her photos, and scrolls passed blurry photos of crowded whiteboards and half-eaten vegetarian lunches to find a photo of Akaashi. One of him just outside their apartment in the middle of last winter taken when he wasn’t paying attention. He’s smiling, eyes crinkled and glasses falling down his nose as he buttons up his jacket. It’s a favorite of hers, as indicated by the small white heart in the corner. Every time she sees it, she smiles.

Without stopping to think of how both wrong and vulnerable it feels, she posts it, matching it to his. My pretty boy. Undeniable evidence planted.

taglist: @charlotterosea13 @quikhs @mdmraz @mollyrolls @nazwrites-2002 @hanadulsetaad @nokjhg @alexithemiyatic @kvrokasaa @wyrcan @baylz @soobin1437

[firstprincehornyramblings]

Hello everyone! I'm getting a start early, by queueing this post for tomorrow morning, look at me go. Thank you who much to @tailsbeth-writes for the tag <3 I have ... 3 wips again, because I have no self control, so we're doing all of this under the cut, because it's gonna be long, and maybe a lil nsfw <3 LET'S GOOOOOOOO.

------ George Villier's inner dialogue during an Orgy (that's the working title on this, please bare with)

It wasn’t that George had always been this way, but an ascension into power had nurtured his hedonism prone nature. If he was to be blessed with the gift of beauty, he would take all the power and pleasure that came with it. He’d earned it after all, his bed of lovers, his social standing, influence, and wealth. Each a result of unsavory acts; but that made them so much more deserved, did it not? He could have anything he wanted, like a god among men, and so he should be worshipped the same. Though he was more than content with devotion in the form of flesh; he’d certainly used his own body as currency often enough. Even now, anything that wasn’t handed to him willingly, with a brush of lips, or a clandestine slip to knees, could become his. That in itself was testament to all he’d done, that his willing submission was as effective a bargaining tool as his power.

WATERSPORTS FIRSTPRINCE (aka, Alex is funny and Henry has a weak bladder)

“You… think it’s- what?” Henry choked out, “You think it’s hot that I pissed myself in the middle of our kitchen? Is that your idea of a joke?” “I-” the brunette could feel his own cheeks heating up now, “It’s not a joke, I do, I’m sorry, but I do,” he managed after a moment. “Oh,” the blond’s eyes shot straight down to the shorts Alex had on, falling on the visible hardness there, “Oh,” he repeated, but with much more understanding this time. There were still tears sparkling in the corners of his eyes, threatening to fall, but he was visibly less mortified, “Alex, that is so disgusting...” “I know, shit baby, I’m s-” “I can get into it.” “What?” “I said, I can get into it,” Henry repeated, “Well, honestly, I could probably get into anything that makes your cock hard, because- well frankly I reap the benefits of that. Would you like to fuck my throat?”

AND A NEW WIP, Hairstylist Henry and his least (read as favorite) Client Alex

“Alright, tilt your head back,” both of Henry’s hands rested on Alex’s temples, carefully moving the other man’s head into the perfect place, “Do you want me to stop under the jawline?” “Whatever you think looks best, sweetheart.” Normally, Henry would hate that, some businessman using a pet name on him. But usually it felt demeaning, when Alex did it, it felt genuine, perhaps that was why he didn't mind it. He would rather accept that than admit it might have something to do with how hot his cheeks felt or how his stomach flip flopped. Instead, he chose to focus on something else, like the familiar but luxurious scent becoming more evident the closer he was to Alex. “Santal 33?” the blond asked, running the trimmers over the other man’s jawline, making careful precise lines that would accentuate the sharp angles there. “Yeah,” impressively, Alex had answered that without much movement of his face; Henry was astonished. “Makes sense.” “What is that supposed to mean?” this time, the brunette moved, but he did have the mind to wait until Henry was running the trimers along his throat with less chance of Alex’s jolt messing up something. “It means you look like someone who has good taste, don’t move.” “You’re worse than a dentist,” Alex grumbled. “Stop moving, christ you’re an absolute menace, I’m going to slice your throat open.” “With an electric trimmer?” “I’m certain if I make enough effort, I just may be able to pull it off,” Henry snapped.

OKAY, that was a long one, if you stuck around thank u I love u. TAG LINE UP!!!!

@taste-thewaste @eusuntgratie @henrysfox @thighzp

@softboynick @catdadacd @sheepywritesfics @henryspearl

@basil-bird @caressthosecheekbones @henfox @onthewaytosomewhere + literally anyone else I'm sleepy and forgot, or anyone who sees this and wants to tag me, I love reading yall's stuff. <3

[didalexiabreakupwitholgayet]

Do you think Kika has a chance at being a starter? It seems like she plays as a CAM or a winger (I could be very wrong lol I barely know positions), which seem to be competitive starting XI spots since we have APA and caro/pajor already. But, I did think the lineup they used against Dallas in preseason was incredible, and I thought the Kika/Patri/Aitana linkup worked very well.

Thoughts on an ideal XI (and Kika being in it)?

Also, do you think Keira is really worth the hype? Imo, they should've waited until her contract was up, or just gotten rid of her this season. The diamond with APA + Kika worked well in Dallas imo, and Patri and Keira play similarly. It always looks like Keira just passes the ball back to Mapi + Ingrid...

yes sure, i don't think anything is off the table! now, do i think kika is there yet? no, i don't. she still needs time to gel with this group and show her stuff. right now, i have her as a super sub. but certainly as she progresses, she has an opportunity to break into the starting XI. remember that dallas is probably the weakest competition barça faced in a while, but perfect for preseason tune-ups.

and yes, keira is 100% worth the hype. the thing about defensive mids are that they do a lot of the grunt work without the flash and accolades of the attacking mids. there is a reason why patri and aitana speak so highly of keira and are basically co-presidents of the keira fan club. and there's a reason that keira was considered a snub from the top 30 ballon d'or rankings list for the past two years. i would not put kika ahead of keira in any type of ideal line-up. they don't play the same role.

since you are new to football, let me explain some of the qualities of a world class defensive midfielder:

as the name implies, dms need to be strong on defense and be prepared to shield the defenders behind them. they need to have a good connection with the back line, which is why there is a lot of interplay with keira

they need to connect the defense and midfield, anticipate where the ball is going, and help initiate the attack

they need to be technically savvy and proficient on the ball and tactically orchaestrate play through the midfield. there's a reason people call keira a big 'football brain'

so yes, keira was signed the summer of alexia's injury, but keira and alexia are not the same type of midfielder. nor is she the same type of player as patri, necessarily either. rather, she's made herself into an integral part of the squad along with patri. that's why both jona and pere don't want to break up the patri-keira connection unless they have to because it's worked quite well over the past two seasons and they bring out the best in one another. that's where the 'irreplaceable' tag is coming from. it's because we don't have another midfielder with her exact profile on the squad.