#they confide in each other about certain things but there's a separation they both feel/maintain even before the fisher king

[ribbonstrawberrysurprise]

TMM Weapon and Attack Descriptions

Small followup to the character bios post, featuring the information about each Mew Mew's weapon and attack from the 2002 Fanbook vs the TMM New Artbook (both the 2002 insert and the main section).

See the comparison chart here.

First, one BIG thing to notice right off:

The '02 Fanbook actually spells the attacks as リボン/ribon instead of リボーン/riboon. This is big because there's always been debate on whether they should be transcribed as "Ribbon" (usually spelled リボン, with a shorter o) or "Reborn" (usually spelled as リボーン, with a longer o).

Basically, does the stretched out o sound mean it's meant to be understood as "Reborn"? Or is it meant to be understood as each girl stretching out the first word dramatically ("Ribboooon,") before moving on to the personalized ending section. This is definitely the way they enunciate it in the anime and parallels the way other magical girl shows structure attacks (e.g., Mars... Flame Sniper, Precure... Blue Forte Wave, Hirogaru... Sky Punch). I've weighed in on this here.

So, does this settle it once and for all?

Well… not in my opinion. Like, I do still think "Ribbon" is the correct transliteration! But I don't think the Fanbook is reliable for a few reasons:

1) The editing on the Fanbook is a little spotty, so there are multiple spots of inconsistent formatting/spelling. For instance, in the charts, all items in lists are separated by interpuncts (・) except for Buling's special skills, which is separated with a comma (、). There's also a missing interpunct in the list of Retasu's favorite foods (the other girls' lists do put an interpunct on the end of a line, so it's not a purposeful choice), and Shirogane's name has a space between the kanji of his surname and given name, something done for no other names*

*(Okay.... so it's also done for Buling's, but this is a real thing sometimes done for Chinese names to indicate that the surname is only one kanji instead of the 2-3 you'd expect of a Japanese surname...... But this is also changed/corrected in the New version, though, so???)

In my non-professional opinion, some of the phrasing also feels a little weird, and there's not much care put into text spacing and especially where lines break, but I'm not confident enough in my Japanese skills to state this for certain or put specific examples...

2) There is no other place where the attacks are written as リボン/ribon across the MANY places they are spelled out (e.g., the original manga, a La Mode, ReTurn, the PS game guide, character profile stickers). See above for examples!

3) Even though the TMM '02 insert in the TMM New Fanbook reuses a lot of text from the '02 Fanbook, it does NOT maintain this spelling, which suggests it was another error that was corrected.

So it's net zero information imo 🤷‍♀️

More small things under the cut:

I translated 必殺技/hissatsu waza as "finishing move". It literally means something like "certain kill technique" and is commonly translated as stuff like "special move" or "special attack" as well. 

The '02 Fanbook describes the attacks in terms of what they do in universe, whereas the New Artbook describes what happens in the stock footage. 

The '02 Fanbook also makes a big deal out of Ichigo's attack being the strongest and claims it's the only one that can purify a Chimera Anima and release the Parapara. It's generally true that they have to play her stock footage she has to finish off the big Chimera Anima, but the other girls consistently finish off smaller Chimera Anima, plus instances like Zakuro instantly defeating the big crow in episode 10 and all of the girls (including Pudding, somehow???) managing to defeat a bunch of big Chimera Anima at once when Pie releases them en masse as a distraction in episode 49. The '02 insert keeps the note on Ichigo's attack being able to finish off Chimera Anima but drops the "not that strong" part from the descriptions of the non-Ichigo girls and even adds that Zakuro's attack is "strong enough to surprise/frighten Quiche". The New artbook has no mention of any one girl's attack being more powerful.

The descriptions of the attacks kind of back up my claim that none of the girls except Lettuce have an elemental attack and are instead all light-based and separated by range:

Ichigo: balls of light; final blow on Chimera Anima Mint: arrow of light; ranged attack Lettuce: stream of water; attacks multiple enemies at once Pudding: wave of light that turns into "pudding"; captures enemy Zakuro: whip of light; can be used close or far away, can bind enemies, can cut into pocket dimensions somehow

...Zakuro is clearly way too OP, since she can essentially copy the effects of Mint, Lettuce, AND Pudding's attacks plus having dimensional powers. I mean, the "cutting through dimensions" thing is way outside the range of the other Mews' powers??? And it shows up so little...

Speaking of Zakuro, the New version eliminates the space-cutting power but also describes her weapon as a cross with a ribbon attached to the end instead of as a whip! (It does say she uses it like a whip in the attack description...) She does move it like a rhythmic gymnastics ribbon a little even in her original attack footage, but it's kind of funny to insist the ZaCross Whip isn't a whip!

They sure are caught up on how Lettuce can use her attack even when tied up since she only has to move her fingers. A situation which only happens once.

I find it a little funny that they never really acknowledge how all of the weapons are based on musical instruments. The LettuceTanets are obviously called castanets, and the StrawBell Bell is noted to have a bell attached, but only the the New fanbook calls Mint's weapon "lyre-shaped" instead of "bow and arrow-shaped". Not once are the PuRing Rings compared to a tambourine (although New does mention the bell) or the ZaCross Whip to a flute.

Confirmed that in the anime Buling's attack is not literal pudding but rather something that looks like it. (The manga is still a toss up considering we see it being eaten...)

The difference in phrasing between the '02 Fanbook and the New insert is pretty funny. プリンのようなもの / purin no youna mono, "a thing/object/substance that's like pudding" vs プリン状の物体 / purin-jou no buttai, "a solid object in the form/appearance of pudding". Puddingy thing vs physical object in the form of pudding.

[maschotch]

I also don't feel like Fisher King let her recognize that Hotch is just some guy. There is a shift in how she views him but its not quite there yet. She doesn't see him as the hero anymore "you got me shot" she's blaming him. There is a crisis but the paradigm hasn't shifted yet but it's starting to. She could have blamed Gideon but he had already messed up before the pilot, he's human. So its easier to see he is a person capable of mistakes. Elle saw Hotch's humanity but not his mistakes.

i looooove that she blames hotch akjsdhglsjd bc i dont think it even matters what hotch could’ve done?? elle just.. has all this unprocessed anger that needs a target. the fisher king was dead  by the time she woke up. that part of her grief, that kind of closure, is over and done with before she’s even really aware of what happened.

she’s stuck in a limbo in the months she’s away—disconnected from the team that’s supposed to be her family—and didn’t have the opportunity to heal before coming back. so she’s just.. sitting with it. and all this negativity festers in the pit of her stomach. it’s regret, it’s sorrow, it’s hate, it’s everything she hasn’t dealt with since the attack. elle’s not really one for self pity and if she can’t do anything healthy with it, all those negative emotions come out as anger. resentment. she externalizes it, and hotch just happens to be the one she chooses.

i think it’s interesting that it’s hotch and not gideon that she’s mad at. i think part of that has to do with her actual relationship with gideon: he may be a little odd, but in the end he always pulls through. he hasn’t failed her yet (which i think is why it’s so important she only meets him after the bombing pre-season one). hotch is capable, but he doesn’t have that almost mystical quality gideon seems to have as he makes intuitive leaps and connections that none of them can hope to achieve. gideon is the infallible one in her mind (spencer and derek, meanwhile, were there for the bombing—they know that, when it comes down to it, hotch is the reliable one). part of it also is the way that gideon neatly avoids responsibility for his mistakes. again, a lot of this has to do with his own unaddressed trauma, but it’s a stark contrast to the way hotch blames himself for everything—including elle’s attack. 

elle knows it’s not really hotch’s fault. she knows that he was just trying to look out for her by telling her to get some rest. but… if it wasn’t his fault, whose was it? the fisher king, but he’s dead and gone—not a suitable outlet. she needs someone real, she needs someone flesh and blood right in front of her to funnel her anger. hotch, intentionally or not, volunteers. and they go too long without addressing it that, before they realize it, this wedge has become an irreparable chasm between the two of them.

[jujutsu-headcanons]

Team Tokyo First Years Headcanons

(Ft. Yuji, Megumi, Nobara, Gojo & Sukuna)

Gojo created a group chat with all three students to coordinate things. However, he never knows if Megumi reads the texts because he never says anything (he does), and all Yuji does is send memes, so basically that's its only function now.

Yuji and Nobara created a game: try to take a picture of Gojo with his blindfold off. He takes it off frequently, it's just impossible to catch an image of it. Surprisingly, Megumi of all people has gotten the closest. If you squint, you can see the baby blues.

This escalated into "who can take the ugliest picture of someone without them looking", after capturing an image of Yuji standing next to Gojo's desk with almost four chins. Nobara discovered she has many bad angles and Gojo discovered he's photogenic from ALL angles.

Yuji likes to use Nobara's ugly pictures as reaction images and memes. At first, Nobara beat him up whenever he did, but now as long as they don't leave the first-year chat she doesn't care. She'll even supply them if she's feeling silly.

Gojo started a prank war on accident and it shows no sign of stopping. It started because he enjoys Nobara's over the top reactions. When she found the LIVE snake in her bed (oh boy, everyone's soooo lucky she's good with reptiles), she immediately suspected this was Yuji's doing. She pranked him, he got her back, Megumi walked into a prank on accident, he got them back twice over, and now it just won't stop. Gojo was fully prepared to deal with the consequences, but he isn't complaining.

The First Year prank war is pretty well known around the school, and everyone's learned to stay away from anything that looks suspicious.

Gojo uses this to his advantage too; sometimes he'll pull pranks on the first and even second years just to watch them blame each other. He's even gone as far as pranking Principal Yaga hoping that he would blame the kids, but Yaga knows for a fact it's Gojo. He hasn't done anything about it though. This stresses Gojo.

Most of the time, when they eat out, each student pays for their meal. When Gojo's there he pays for all four of them, and if Yuji tries to use the "I don't have any money" excuse when Nobara decides to stop for a coffee, she'll buy him one too. She holds it against him, though.

If his kids are all craving a certain type of food (i.e. Chinese) Gojo will head out and pick it up and they'll all eat as a family.

Nobara proposed once a month they have a "spa" day. Surprisingly, the other two students agreed. She's allowed to give them manicures and pedicures (so long as she doesn't get carried away), trim and treat their hair, exfoliate their faces, and they help her re-dye her hair. Megumi is a good client, while Yuji gets bitched at a lot for squirming while getting his nails clipped and jerking when he gets his eyebrows plucked.

Yuji also proposed they have a movie night every Friday night. If they're busy, they'll move it to Saturday, or have it earlier in the day during the week. Sometimes the second years will join. Gojo is banned because he's basically seen every movie and always spoils the end. Everyone got mad at Yuji's request to use subtitles but gave up arguing with how loud Yuji chews.

They also have game nights, but they lost the pieces to most board games after Nobara threw them out the window, Megumi is the only one who knows how to play chess and Shogi, and Yuji fears the safety of his controllers after Megumi got dangerously close to beating Nobara in Smash. 

Yuji's room is the main hangout joint because of the electronics he owns. Literally, there's a whole ass common/living room for them to use. However, they go to Nobara's room for a spa day, as long as the boys are gone by sundown.

Gojo knows damn good and well his kids don't like each other in that way and would never have sex with each other, but he still feels the need to give them the talk ™. He's literally given each child a free box of condoms just in case. 

Gojo bought each student customized "if lost, please return to Jujutsu Tech" shirts. Yuji doesn't mind wearing his because it's just another hoodie to him, and Nobara doesn't mind hers because it's a crop top and it's cute. Megumi burned his in front of Gojo. 

Nobara takes the boys shopping a lot. Megumi is surprisingly good at picking out clothes that fit Nobara's physique and taste, and Yuji is there to hype her up when she walks out of the dressing room. He also isn't scared to tell her a dress doesn't look good on her, and she respects that.

Sometimes even Sukuna will pop out and give commentary. He gives really mixed signals, sometimes he tells her how she's not much to look at, sometimes he talks about the things he wants to do to that ass because of how good they look in those jeans. This results in Yuji getting slapped, Nobara yelling something like "Shut it, Fang Face!" And people staring at him funny because of it.

She also buys outfits for the boys and occasionally Gojo, because she's tired of hoodies and black. She was just as shocked as the rest when Megumi walked out in his outfit. He only wore it to shut her up, though, and hasn't worn it since.

No matter what they're doing, Yuji is ALWAYS the DJ. He has playlists for almost every occasion (spa day, sparring practice, car rides, game nights, even the times they just chill in the same room on their phones) and the only person that really complains is Sukuna, but only because he hates the Backstreet Boys.

Yuji bursts out in song a lot. No matter what he's doing, he'll just start singing. If they know it, Nobara and Gojo will join in too. Always ends in a giggle fit.

Sometimes Gojo's hand slips and boom! He has 18 dozen cookies instead of 4. He's been known to wrap the cookies up in nice tins and packages and leave them outside the kid's doors.

Gojo has also been known to cook meals for the kids and drop them off. This helps because Megumi is basically the only one who can actually cook. Yuji thinks instant ramen is okay for every meal, and Nobara burns food in a way it's still edible but you don't really want it.

The kids play wrestle, a lot. Yuji was scared to at first because the only one who really wants to fight is Nobara, but he learned quickly she can both take and deliver a punch just fine. She also isn't one of those girls that gets upset if there's an accidental grope, which is cool.

This is how the others discovered Megumi is ticklish. Yuji probably still has the scar and Nobara doesn't dare try to tickle him again.

Yuji fell asleep once and woke up to Sukuna's mouth on his cheek having a full-blown conversation with Nobara while she was reading a magazine. He swears they were gossiping about boys, but as soon as Yuji was awake enough to pay attention, Sukuna noticed and started bullying him. To this day Nobara still thinks she was talking to Yuji the whole time because she never noticed he fell asleep.

Yuji can fall asleep almost anywhere. Nobara draws on his face a lot. He's spent countless nights on Megumi's floor just because he's too lazy to move literally one room over.

Nobara has a habit of walking into the boys' rooms without knocking. Megumi is usually laying in bed on his phone or sitting at his desk, however, she's walked into Yuji doing some weird shit. Not gross shit, just... Concerning shit.

Once she walked in on him crying and didn't know what to do. She just kinda walked in and sat down with him until he stopped, occasionally rubbing his back. They didn't say a word until Yuji made a joke and Nobara continued with why she even came into his room, to begin with.

The three students are surprisingly supportive of each other like that, it's just kinda awkward and passive-aggressive at times. Sometimes they even confide in Gojo, and he takes it seriously, surprisingly.

Gojo has a Tik Tok account. He participates in every challenge, every dance, every trend, and apparently has a huge following. Yuji gets featured in the videos sometimes when he isn't recording, and he's mostly doing the stupid shit Gojo does, like doing backflips on building ledges.

While Tik Tok is Gojo's forte Yuji has done video game commentary on twitch and yt live. Megumi is quite popular on subreddits about urban legends and related folklore, and Nobara helps maintain blogs about current events, but... It's mostly celebrity gossip and new music.

Every Saturday is chore day and no one's allowed to do leisurely activities or leave until they're done. Rooms and hallways have to be vacuumed, swept, mopped, whatever. Gojo checks that the rooms aren't dirty. He doesn't mind clutter, he just hates wrappers and shit being left around. He especially pays attention to the cleanliness of the bathrooms for some reason. Megumi is good about cleaning his room throughout the week, Nobara usually just has clutter on her nightstand and dresser, and Yuji waits until the last minute to clean.

The first years used to do their laundry separately, but Nobara threw a temper tantrum when she witnessed Yuji just throw all of his clothes in the washer at once and simply turn it on. Now normally, she wouldn't help anyone get out of work, but she also likes things being done the right her way, so she does his laundry for him. Megumi got involved somehow and now they throw all of their clothes in the same basket and divide them by darks, colors, whites, and delicates. She refuses to let any of their overly- soiled clothes touch hers, so those usually get their own wash too. Each student folds and puts away their own clothes. 

Most arguments end with rock paper scissors. Pinkie promises are also sacred.

Gojo keeps a sticker board in the classroom. Whenever the kids do something good, they get a star. Whenever they do something bad, one gets taken away. When they get to five stickers they get a prize from the treasure box.

No one has gotten to five stars yet. This is good because there is no treasure box. Gojo is bullshitting everyone.

Yuji likes to steal Megumi's stickers because he thinks Megumi will not notice. He does every time.

Gojo has a stool in the corner of the classroom complete with a horribly cliche dunce cap he calls "the Naughty Corner" for when the kids "act up". Nobara ends up there because she's always on her phone, Megumi mouths off a lot and has days where he doesn't feel like doing work, and poor Yuji ends up in the naughty corner because Sukuna can't behave.

[hockey-hoe-24-7]

Blue Lace, feat. Vince Dunn

Warnings: Smut, can’t really think of anything else

Length: 2.6k

This wasn’t a good idea. You thought it could have been. But it wasn’t. It had been 3 days ago but now...not so much. As you stared at yourself in the mirror, you went back and forth between the two voices in your head, aka your two roommates. 

Omg, Y/N, he’ll love it. Andrew tore mine off me in 30 seconds.

I don’t know...Ben laughed when he saw me. I mean, he liked it but he laughed. 

They were talking, of course, about surprising their SO’s with sexy lingerie. Sarah has a good experience with her boyfriend, but Lisa...not so much. Two completely different stories left you very conflicted as you stood in front of the mirror, staring at the brand new pair of blue lace lingerie you had on. 

You had only been officially dating Vince for about two months, so you didn’t really know how he’d react. You known him for about five months before through the aforementioned roomies, who had a lot of players on different teams as friends. 

When you had take Sarah and Lisa on as roommates, you had no idea what you were getting yourself into. It was a common occurrence to see hockey players, especially Blues players, lounging in your apartment on any given weeknight, or drinking your alcohol on a weekend.  

You had always been too busy to really stop and join and for a while there you were the quiet roommate who worked all the time, paid most of the rent, and supplied the never ending stream of booze. It was convenient when you were trying to avoid a certain defenseman that you had a not so subtle crush on. You had been successful until the one weekend you had off, your roommates had been hosting yet another get together and they had cornered you in your room, all but dragging you out by your hair. Of course, your living room was filled to the brim with hockey players, a gorgeous defenseman in the middle of the chaos with a beer in his hand. When he saw you and gave you a cheeky smile, patting the spot next to you with his free hand. A pinch in the ass and a shove from Lisa had you tumbling on the couch next to him.

You two had fallen into easy conversation, the rest of the room melting away until it was just you two, heads bent together as you talked about anything and everything.  Before you knew it, it was 3 AM and you were the only two left in the room. Based on what you knew about him, you thought for sure he was going to try to talk his way into your bed, but he left you with a knowing smile and a “good night.” You thought for sure that would be the last intimate interaction you had with him, but he was calling you late the next morning for breakfast. Breakfast had turned into lunch, lunch had turned into drinks, and drinks into dinner.  He asked you on an official date that weekend and the rest was history.

Since your relationship was still relatively new, the two of you were having sex with frankly alarming frequency. You were still learning new things about each other, and you had gained enough confidence in yourself to try something new. Hence, standing in a pair of blue lingerie that cost you an arm and a leg. Your phone buzzed again.

“We need better lighting. Take a picture in the living room next to that one lamp.”

Rolling your eyes, you snatched up your phone and robe and made your way to living room. You were standing beneath the lamp, your phone set up against the wall for a full body shot when you heard the front door click open.

Shit.

You had been so excited about the lingerie you had forgotten to lock the door when you came home from the store.

Sarah was in Baltimore visiting family and Lisa was in Colorado for a business trip so....jesus christ someone was breaking in. Where the fuck was your robe?

Lunging across the couch, you grabbed your robe and flailed around desperately to put it on as the door swung open. You were going to have some dignity if you were beaten up and mugged.

“Babe?”

The male voice sent your heart to your throat, but it was followed by a crushing relief when you recognized it as Vince’s. Your boyfriend was standing in your doorway, his expression turning to one of shock and surprise when he got an eyeful of your outfit. 

Your throat still thick with residual panic, you glared at him as you fumbled to tie the belt of your robe.

“Do you fucking knock?”

He didn’t answer for a moment, his mouth still slack. Grabbing a pillow from the couch, you hurled it at him. He dodged it with the easy grace of a professional athlete.

“What’re you wearing?”

“We’re not over the heart attack you nearly gave me.”

“It won’t happen again. What the fuck were you just wearing?”

You crossed your arms over your chest and gulped, trying to maintain your stern demeanor and keep your eyes away from the growing erection beneath his sweatpants.

“Don’t worry about it.”

His devilish cat-caught-the-canary smile made your legs go weak. 

Not taking his eyes off of you, he closed the door behind him, turning the lock. “We both know that’s not happening, baby girl.”

You stood up straighter, but you both knew he had you. You were nothing in the face of any of of his seductions. Your nipples beading against the lace and arousal pooling between your legs, you decided not to fight it.

“I got you a gift.”

His eyebrows shot up as he began to round the couch. “What did I do to deserve a gifts?”

You shrugged, trying to act nonchalant as you backed away, keeping pace with him so he never got any closer to you. “You’ve played really well these past few weeks.”

He nodded. “Can’t argue with that.” Cocky bastard.

His eyes were hooded as he advanced on you. “Take off your robe.”

You shrugged again, your power in the situation going straight to your head. “Hmmmmm I’m not sure. You gave me quite a fright there. I don’t think you deserve your gift anymore.”

His eyebrows shot up a second time in surprise and he grinned as his cock twitched. You had never challenged him like that before.

“Y/N.” A warning.

“Hm?”

The two of you were still moving. “Do you like that robe?” He asked. “Yes, actually. Very much so,” you answered casually.

“Then I imagine you want it to remain in one piece, which it won’t if you make me tear it off you.”

You bit your lip and you could practically feel your eyes dilate with a flood of arousal. Both of you stilled, the air thick with sex and anticipation.

Suddenly, he was moving, lunging forward with an arm outstretched. You squealed and leapt out of his reach, taking off down the hallway toward your bedroom. You heard him thunder after you and he caught you in no time, swinging you up off your feet like you weighed nothing. He threw you down on your bed and you laughed giddily, making a half-hearted effort to get away. He shackled your ankle and dragged you back toward him, fisting your robe and pulling you onto your back. You put up a valiant effort to resist, but his weight and strength dwarfed yours. Manacling your wrists above your head, he straddled your hips, your breath leaving your chest on a deep exhale. 

He leaned down and kissed you hard and deep. You groaned and tried to arch into him, every part of your desperate after the long separation you had just endured. After an eternal moment, he nipped your lip and pulled back, his mouth ghosting over yours. “May I?”

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. He thanked you with another quick kiss before pulling away, moving himself off of you and between your thighs, wrapping your legs around his hips. His hands steady and his cock hard against the inside of your thigh, he undid the belt of your robe with agonizing slowness. You made yourself lay there, even though every part of you wanted to beg to have him inside you again.

As he pushed your robe off, he groaned, his cock jerking against your leg as he slowly drank in the sight of you. “Jesus...fuck, baby.” You didn’t blame him for his reaction. All elaborate lace and straps that accentuated every feminine curve you had, you knew you looked good. But there was still a nagging feeling in the back of your head that had you asking: “Do you like it?”

His expression as he looked up at you was almost comical. “Do I like it? Christ, baby, I fucking love it.” His eyes flared with heat again. “Want me to show you how much I love it?” Catching your lip between your teeth you nodded.

You kept your legs tight around his hips as he leaned over you, bracing his arms on either side of your head. He took your mouth in another kiss, but this one was soft and slow, teasing. He knew how desperate you were for him, how easily he could make you do what he wanted. He could torture you any way he pleased and you would beg for it. Tightening your legs around him, you rolled your hips, smiling to yourself when you felt his hips involuntary jerk into you.

Pulling his mouth from yours, he kissed down your jaw to your throat. Craning your neck, you shoved your hands beneath his sweater, silently urging him for skin on skin. He complied, raising himself off of you just long enough to shed his sweatshirt before coming back to nip at your shoulder. As he moved lower, you ran your hands through his hair, scratching his scalp in that way you knew he liked so much. When he reached your breasts, he kissed along the scalloped edge of your lace bra, letting his tongue lick along your skin every so often. When he lapped gently at one beaded nipple you whimpered, tightening your grip in his hair.

“You like that, baby?” he purred, looking up to meet your eyes. You gulped and nodded, feeling no shame. You gasped as he pushed two fingers beneath your panties and inside of you. “Jesus, you’re wet. Did you miss me?”

You nodded quickly again and he grinned. He curled the two fingers inside of you and you cried out as he hit your g-spot. Pulling his fingers out of you just as quickly, he moved back to your breasts, sucking one lace covered nipple into his mouth. Crying out his name, you arched into him again, pressing his head down with urgent hands. Lapping at one nipple, he massaged the other with a callused hand. Pulling back for a brief moment, he dragged the lace cup of your bra down so his mouth was unobstructed.

“God, Y/N,” he groaned, his voice thick. “This lingerie is driving me fucking crazy.”

You let out a throat exhale of a laugh. “That was kind of the point.”

He laughed against your breast, a gravelly sound, before gently biting down on your nipple. Then he was moving again, kissing and nipping down your abdomen, his hands grazing over the intricate leather straps of the lingerie set. When he reached the delicate waistband of the lace panties, he took his time teasing you with light brushes of his lips everywhere but where you needed him.

“Vince...” He laughed breathily at the edge of desperation in your voice. He sunk his teeth into the mound right above your clit and you rolled your hips in silent reply, digging your nails into his bare shoulders in a silent plea for more.

“Easy, sweetheart,” he murmured against the lace, dropping another quick kiss above your clit. “I know what you need.” With that, he hooked one of your legs over his shoulder, ducked his head, and jerked your panties to the side, exposing you to him. He cursed again before pressing a long, open mouthed kiss to your seam, letting his tongue dip insigde of you. His name was a sharp cry, you hands tunneling through his hair again. Your thighs clenched around his head but he easily pried them apart, anchoring you to the bed with a forearm across your hips. He ate you greedily, his hand moving across you hip to roughly massage your clit.

As you felt yourself reaching your high, you slapped a hand over your mouth, a habit you had gotten into a long time ago. His mouth still between your legs, Vince’s hand shot up and he roughly dragged your hand from your mouth just as your orgasm hit you. You came with another cry of his name, your back arching wildly off the bed as he lapped at you through your peak. You shuddered as you came down, your hips still rolling against his mouth.

You didn’t have to time to recover before he lunged up your body and took your mouth in a bruising kiss, your taste still lingering on his lips. You threw your arms around his shoulders and granted him the control you knew he wanted. “Not done yet, baby,” he growled against your mouth.

You gasped as he wrapped his arms around your waist and hauled you up, your chest colliding. Keeping you tight to him with an easy strength, he moved to sit at the edge of the bed, you straddling him. As you reached in between your bodies and fumbled with the drawstring of his sweatpants, he grabbed the delicate lace front of your bra and dragged them down, taking one nipple into his mouth. You had just managed to pull him out of his sweats when his hands came between your bodies, followed by a loud ripping sound that sent another shot of arousal through you. Pushing your body up, he guided himself inside of you, both of you groaning long and loud at the familiar sensation. His mouth on yours again, you both gave a tentative roll of your hips, adjusting after being away from each other for so long. You gasped into his mouth, still sensitive from your first orgasm.

“Hold on, sweetheart,” he ordered, palming your hips with his hands. You did as you were told, bracing yourself against his shoulders as he picked up his pace, dragging your hips back and forth to meet the thrust of his own. You allowed him complete control as he settled on an urgent pace that brought you higher and higher. Whimpering, you buried your face in his throat, arms right around his shoulders. As his pace became sloppier, his thrusts deeper and longer, he reached in between your bodies again and grabbed your clit. You opened your mouth on a silent cry as you came for the second time. Vince was right there with you, his hips snapping up into yours, his face buried in your chest. As your bodies trembled through the aftermath, you laid a long kiss to the skin of his throat, his pulse strong against your touch. He made a contented sound, craning his head back lazily for you. Kissing your way up his jaw, you smiled against his mouth. “I missed you.”

That earned you a lazy smile. “I missed you too.” An arm around your shoulders had you leaning in for another long, sweet kiss.

“And I enjoyed my gift very much,” he continued, running his finger along the edge of one bra cup. You smiled. “Oh yeah?”

Another kiss. “Oh yeah. I think we need a new rule: I get this gift every time I come home.”

You snorted in response. “Keep playing well, mister. Then we’ll see.”

“Yes ma’am.”

[rax-writes]

Enchanted - Part I

Fandom:  The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina

Pairing:  Caliban x Reader

Warnings:  None

Notes:  I’ve been thirsty for this blond bastard since he popped up in the show, so it’s about time I write for him. // So this is slightly OC, because the reader is a Spellman and it gives some backstory on that, but I still tried to keep it predominantly a reader insert.

As the only trueborn daughter of Edward Spellman, conceived during his very brief, loveless marriage to his late bride, you had grown accustomed to being treated differently. Your aunties fretted over you endlessly, despite being well aware of the fact that you were an extremely proficient witch. You were given unearned, unquestioned respect by each member of the Church of Night, as well as every witch and warlock you met. Typically, they asked you endless questions, being that your father had intended for you to be his successor, prior to his untimely death and Faustus Blackwood’s treachery-ridden rise to the position of High Priest. This meant that you had been a sponge for each and every one of Edward’s theories, teachings, and creeds, as well as his extensive knowledge of spells, conjuring, potions, and other witchcraft.

You prided yourself on being a witch of above-average skill and know-how, although that did not mean you were keen on being subjected to impromptu interviews about it all. Additionally, it seemed as though every single creature you encountered knew your father, which often meant they were twice as heaven-bent on killing you, as he had not been one to take mercy on monsters. All in all, it was rare that you were treated as you – not Edward Spellman’s daughter.

That is, until you encountered a certain self-proclaimed Prince of Hell.

Of course, you had been vehemently against Sabrina entering the Netherworld to save her boyfriend. However, you were aware that her determination knows no bounds, so she’d certainly be going with or without your approval, therefore you decided it’d be best to join her endeavor. Upon entering Hell, you, your sister, and her companions found yourselves on a somber, despondent beach, and a medley of wails filled your ears – which could only mean one thing.

“Wait, so… Hell is a beach?” Harvey inquired dubiously.

“Not quite. Hell is a vast realm, full of a myriad of abysmal regions, and this is merely one of them. In particular: the Shores of Sorrow,” you explained. This new information seemed to distress him further. Theo stood, fear in his eyes as he looked to the cages standing out on the water.

“Guys, look…. What are those?”

“They’re the souls of the damned,” you responded, in unison with another voice. At first, you thought it was some sort of echo, but quickly deduced that it was a separate voice entirely. You turned to see a man standing a short distance away on the beach, and your first thought was that he was so beautiful that he looked monumentally out of place in this dreary landscape. He was quite tall, with lovely green eyes, blonde ringlets cascading around his handsome face, and a body that looked to be hand-crafted by Aphrodite herself.

The visually pleasing stranger held searing eye contact with you as he took a few steps toward your group. He seemed intrigued by the fact that you – someone who was clearly not from Hell – was familiar with your locale.

“They drown as the tide rolls in, over and over… for all eternity,” he elaborated, as your party approached him. He surveyed your sister and her friends, then returned his eyes to you with a charming smirk. “Although, I’m certain you already knew that.”

“Hi, we’re looking for Lilith,” Sabrina stated. “Uh… Madam Satan, Queen of Hell. She’s in Pandemonium, if you happen to know the way.”

“I would be more than happy to assist anyone accompanying a woman of such intellect and ethereal beauty,” the man stated, charm dripping from his voice as his eyes remained set on you. You would not deny that he was easily the most attractive man you’d ever seen, but you were also conscious of the fact that you were in Hell, therefore he was almost certainly a demon – not exactly ideal dating material. So, you merely met his gaze, donning a smirk of your own, crossing your arms gracefully, and giving a slight tilt of the head to wordlessly meet the challenge posed by his advances.

“All blood flows to Pandemonium. Follow the blood-red road where it flows, and there you’ll find the throne of Hell,” he responded, after your silent exchange, as he gestured toward a small creek of blood nearby.

“Thanks,” Sabrina said, nodding. “And you are?”

“We greatly appreciate your kindness, sir, but I’m afraid we’ve no time for formalities,” you interjected. It was just as well, as the man seemed hesitant of answering her query.

“Understandable. Although, I do hope to cross paths with you again,” he admitted, then took a step forward to take your hand and bring your knuckles to his lips, maintaining eye contact with you as he did so. He then turned to your sister. “Never step off the road. It’s clever you’re wearing dead men’s shoes, though… any demon worth his salt can smell mortal flesh a mile away.”

The two of you shared one last, lingering look, then he slowly spun on his heel and returned his attention to the nearby elaborate sandcastle.

“Come on. Let’s go,” Sabrina said, and the five of you made your way to the flowing blood.

After a not-so-pleasant stroll through the Field of Witness, and the Forest of Torment, where you searched with Theo and Harvey as Sabrina and Roz located Dorian’s pestilential flower, as well as an excursion to a hellish version of Sabrina’s high school, you found yourselves in the throne room of Pandemonium. Lilith decided to allow Sabrina to leave with Nicholas, so long as she would crown Lilith in front of all of Hell. She agreed to do so, but as soon as the ceremony began, it was evident that the Kings were still displeased.

“And who do you propose would rule?” Lilith asked.

“Ahh,” Beelzebub responded, and it was clear that Lilith had stepped right into his trap. “All hail Caliban, Prince of Hell. Molded from the clay of the pit itself. Native son of the inferno, born to restore and rule our dark domain.”

To your surprise, the good-looking blond from the Shores of Sorrow stepped forward, clad in a different outfit, one more suitable for Hell, and smiled at your sister. “Hello again.”

“Uh… hi?”

This Caliban explained that he intended to restore stability to the Nine Realms, and ultimately, conquer the Earth to make it the tenth circle. Unsurprisingly, your sister was simply not having it. She claimed the throne as her own, shut down Caliban’s refutation, and decreed that the Infernal Court be dismissed.

As Caliban turned to go, he locked eyes with you. With a small smirk, he stated, “It appears our paths will cross again, enchantress.” He left through the colossal double-doors of the throne room, and silence befell the room, before you all left, Nicholas Scratch in tow.

Upon returning to your room for the evening, you laid in bed, unable to sleep and staring at the ceiling. Although you attempted to steer your train of thought to more important matters, such as how to help the coven and what it would mean for Sabrina to be the Queen of Hell, you found your mind veering back the dashing young “prince.” Aside from the fact that he’s a demon, and that he sought to descend Earth to chaos and enslavement, he had challenged your sister – and that simply wouldn’t do. So, you conceded that you must push your unwelcome thoughts to the side, such as how his eyes made you feel vulnerable and on fire all at once, or how pretty that alluring voice of his would sound in the bedroom…. Hell help you, you were going to need to try much harder than this.

A sudden whooshing sound and a bright light brought your attention to the corner of the room, and as the vortex of fire dissipated, you saw none other than the object of your desires standing before you.

“To what do I owe the pleasure? Here to berate my baby sister some more?”

“No. I am here for you.”

You sat up in the bed, then swung your legs off the side, staring at him quizzically. You noticed that Caliban eyed your attire hungrily, and you briefly thanked yourself for choosing a red silk nightie with black lace trim this evening. Opting to bask in the feeling of him undressing you with his eyes, you stood and crossed your arms over your chest – both to show resolution, and to accentuate your chest. His gaze grew ever more ravenous.

“Speak your piece, then.”

“I wish to court you,” Caliban stated coolly, that smirk of his gracing his lips.

“And why is that?”

“You have piqued my interest. Your beauty is beyond compare, and your intelligence and self-assuredness are both endearing and intriguing. I am quite taken with you,” Caliban admitted, now perusing your bedroom and investigating your elaborate bookshelves. He then turned to you, and in a few strides, he was standing in front of you, towering over you as those enthralling green eyes seemingly bore into your soul.

“Allow me to court you. I vow to do my utmost to make you happy, and keep you unquestionably…” he trailed off, bending down to hover his lips mere centimeters above yours as he finished his sentence, “... satisfied.”

You did not miss the way your breath caught in your throat as a result of his actions – nor did Caliban. It caused his smirk to widen further. Nevertheless, you squared your shoulders and looked up at him with all the confidence you could muster.

“Stand down from your attempted coup d'état of Sabrina’s place on the throne, and I will gladly court you, Caliban.”

“Although my name falling so sweetly from your lips is enough to persuade me of almost anything, I’m afraid that I cannot comply with your request, princess,” Caliban responded. “But, if bartering is the ticket to courting you, then so be it. Even if I wanted to, it is impossible for me to stop the Plague Kings’ quest to unseat Sabrina Morningstar and Lilith, but I can let you in on how they plan to do so, which will allow your sister time to prepare for it. And if the Kings or Lilith ask, you didn’t hear a word of that from me.”

You pretended to mull it over for a moment. If you were being honest, it wasn’t exactly twisting your arm to go out with someone as mind-bogglingly attractive as Caliban, so having the opportunity to do so and help Sabrina certainly seemed to be a win-win.

“I agree to your terms.”

“Excellent,” he said, his smirk changing to a toothy grin, flashing a set of perfect pearly whites. He seemed genuinely thrilled that you agreed to court him. “You may inform Sabrina that the Kings intend to evaluate her progress as Queen of Hell for a short time, and if she fails to meet their expectations, they shall send she and I on a quest to find the Unholy Regalia. Whoever is the victor shall earn a rightful place on the throne, by infernal law. So, I would advise that Sabrina watch her p’s and q’s for the next few weeks, but still prepare for the inevitable quest for the Regalia.”

“Thank you, Caliban.”

“Anything for you,” he responded, taking your hand and placing a kiss upon your knuckles, as he had earlier that day, before cradling it in both of his hands. “Now, where would you like to go for our first outing, little dove?”

“I have heard rumors of a carnival coming to town this weekend. Take me?”

“It would be my pleasure,” Caliban said earnestly, then sat down languidly on the ornate velvet couch immediately behind him, and gently pulled you down to sit with him. “In the meantime, I would very much like to get to know you better, if it would please the lady.”

The remainder of the evening was spent on that very same couch, with the self-proclaimed Prince of Hell. The longer you talked, the closer you grew in proximity, until you were nestled against his side with your legs tucked underneath you, his arm draped around your shoulders. Caliban listened intently as you told him about your life, and he readily told you tales of his own past and answered all your questions. A large percentage of the conversation entailed you explaining earthly matters to the Hell-born gentleman, and he was genuinely interested in all the information you had to offer. It was incredibly refreshing for someone to be interested solely in you – not your father’s legacy.

After a while, your eyelids began to feel unbearably heavy, and eventually, you succumbed to sleep, your head falling onto his shoulder. As Caliban looked down at your sleeping figure, after sharing an invigorating, intimate night of soul-sharing, he vaguely wondered of the possibility of love for a man made of clay.

The warm, fuzzy feeling now forming in his chest was all the answer he needed.

Part II

[theballadoffinchesandsaints]

Let’s talk about the Vaincre trade:

(As I am writing this, only the first full chapter, July, has been published)

I’ve said before that I’m fairly certain it’s going to be Leo, but I want to walk through the thought process that got me there (this is long and unedited. You’ve been warned).

First, since this is going to be such a major plot point, I think it’s going to be a character who’s inner circle had at least a minor spotlight in the first chapter. These were Coops, O’knutzy, O’darwin, Thomas & Noelle (do they have a ship name???), Regulus (tho he’s obviously disqualified for not being a pro player rn), and Cole (with a bit of Dumo).

Additionally, I think a key component of this plotline will be developing characters so that they can stand on their own once separated from a crucial relationship (thematically, it makes the most sense to me).

With that in mind, let’s do some quick (yeah lol prob not quick) disqualifications from the list:

Remus: I know this is a more common theory (and god would it hurt) but Remus’ storyline is already jampacked with living up to the standards of the league, team, and public, as well as adjust to a new relationship dynamic with Sirius. On a more heavy note, Remus will have to navigate how playing hockey will interact with the trauma of Greyback’s attack and the resulting injury. I’m sure most of us inferred that this would be a plot point, but the idea was solidified in a snippet of Remus and the team discussing predictions for the top teams of the season.

Sirius: while narratively, I actually think it would be fascinating to see the lions learn to be a team without their leader and to see Sirius have to learn that there are other parts of the world he can trust, this one falls apart in both logistics and clues Hazel has already given us. Truly, I cannot imagine a trade in which it would make sense for the Lions to give up their beloved, talented, effective captain and first line center, especially after he just led them to Stanley Cup. And when someone asked Hazel about (I believe) what relationships would be highlighted in Vaincre, Coops made the list with the qualification that their storyline would largely center around Remus’s adjustment to the team. A Sirius trade requires long-distance Coops angst which, while possible, would be both difficult and against the spirit of the statement.

O’Darwin and Thomas & Noelle already have long-distance angst happening in July, so trading either Kasey or Thomas would miss some of the emotional punch we know Hazel is going to give us.

Cole: I mean, the kid’s a rookie. It doesn’t really make sense. Threads seem to be being set up with the Dumais’ baby sitter and maybe one of the new PTs? (I don’t remember exactly where I’m getting this from, but I’m near certain it was from Hazel’s tumblr). It seems like physical encounters are going to be a big thing with both of these relationships, plus all the obvious great storylines of a new rookie getting comfortable in the team, make it unlikely Cole will be the trade. Not to mention, there are no guts to punch with Cole. We love him already, but he isn’t close with anyone on the team yet. We’d feel disappointed, not devastated, if he got traded. We all know Hazel’s going for devastation.

Dumo: this one approaches probability for me. Dumo would be heartbreaking for every member of the team, but especially Sirius and Logan. It would also sort of follow through on a previous idea from a rough draft of SW where Dumo has a career-ending injury. All the players would have to learn to navigate life without a father figure, and it would break down the system of where many Lions rookies live. But this one’s all speculation, at least as far as I know. It’s not hinted at in July, and I can’t think of any snippets that suggest Dumo. Plus, it feels like all of the main POVs have been set up in July, and we know from the dreaded “of being a lion” snippet (in which said player gets called about the trade) that we do get POV chapters from the player who’s traded.

We’ll get back to O’knutzy later. First, some people who aren’t on the list that I feel are worth discussing briefly (tho these are unlikely for the reasons at the end of Dumo’s):

Kuny & Nado: Now, I remember Kuny’s “no trades, no trades” thing from Hazel’s tumblr. It hurts. It feels like foreshadowing. But, remember, Hazel has also said that these boys will both play a more secondary role in Vaincre. They’re both safe.

James: I go back and forth on this one all the time. Thematically, separating Sirius and James would be both heartbreaking and deeply interesting. James was a major force in bringing Sirius out of his shell, and Sirius would have to learn to maintain that without his best friend always by his side. James and Lily are also suspiciously absent from July. I know Hazel said they’re on their honeymoon, and I’m not disputing that in any way, shape, or form. However, it does provide ample excuse to become a new POV in August. However, I can’t find any snippets to really support it. And, just, in general, James as a character in Hazel’s fics (or at least in Solntse and SW) provides a stable backbone for the other characters. He’a developed as a character but stable and happy. This could be the thing that changes that, but, at the very least, it doesn’t fit the narrative role he serves in SW, and I think it would change the feel and character dynamic of the fic as a whole (not just of the team) too much for that to be the choice.

And then there’s O’knutzy:

Going into Vaincre, I asked myself: what are everyone’s plotlines going to be? Remus will adjust to the team and playing Greyback. Sirius will largely be his support system, tho some stuff may be done with his relationship with Regulus and/or moving on from any semblance of his parents’ influence. Dumo will welcome rookie Cole onto the team. James will be a new father. Thomas and Noelle will have long-distance relationship feels. Kasey will adjust to O’darwin, and probably also deal with his reoccurring injury.

And the cubs? Are in a happy, stable relationship with everything they’ve ever wanted. The seeds to a storyline regarding whether or not they choose to come out was definitely hinted at in July, but I don’t think it will be their sole focus. Thankfully, there is nothing pressuring them to come out currently. They think about it. They long to do it. But nothing has changed since the end of SW/CtC. If one of them was long-distance, that would change the dynamic. When you can always go home to your two loving boyfriends, it doesn’t hurt quite as bad when you can’t be affectionate when out with them in public. When you’re only in the same city for a day or two roughly every month (depending on which team the trade is with), every second you could spend holding them and don’t hurts more and more. Whether I think they choose to come out or not, I really don’t know. I think so, but I’m definitely not sure. But the real question is, which cub goes away and prompts this?

If it’s a cub, it’s definitely Leo. Hazel posted a snippet that just...says so much.

Do I even need to explain? She practically told us. I’ve spent over an hour analyzing nearly every prominent Lion when Hazel practically told us Leo was going to be the trade with this right here.

But I do have more to say. I don’t think either Finn or Logan would work well as the trade. The plot of them being separated was well explored in CtC, and I honestly just don’t think it needs more examination. They learned to cherish each other, talk to each other, love each other freely and honestly. Them being separated again would just hurt. It wouldn’t serve a narrative purpose.

On the other hand, I do think Leo’s character could actually benefit from some time alone. He had barely a few months as a full-blown adult, working in the NHL, before he entered a committed relationship with his two lovely boyfriends, both of whom had had years more time to live with and explore themselves (tho it’s not as if they were doing that freely). A couple of months or even years dating long-distance could force Leo to have some more adventures on his own and come into himself more. Then, he can fully return to his boys, his “long-lost lover[s],” and be more stable in his love.

In a similar vein, Logan and Finn have only had short amounts of time to make their leg of the relationship stable and happy in comparison to the time they spent yearning or heartbroken. Even in CtC, their reflex is to go to Leo first, which is, of course, perfectly fine and lovely and adorable, but I think they need to spend some time unlearning that knee jerk reaction.

Then, when Leo comes back (because one way or another, in canon or in my head, he will), all three are confident in themselves as individuals and in each leg of the relationship as well as the three of them as group. No one and no couple n e e d s anything, but they come back together because they all love each other, more than anything.

That’s what I think will see in Vaincre. At the very least, it’s what I want.

Vaincre is by the one and only @lumosinlove

[flickeringart]

The Fixed Squares

In astrology there are signs that are more or less compatible. The signs are in essence representative of archetypes of the unconscious and they live out their expressions through our lives. It’s common knowledge that certain people are more or less compatible, which depends on the personal planetary placements and how they interact with another person’s placements.

People are complex and can’t be reduced to a single sign (their Sun sign for example). However, if a person has a lot of planets in a particular sign, they might find that other people with a lot of planets in the squaring sign (90° apart on the zodiac wheel) presents conflicting and disturbing energy. The signs that naturally square each other have a tense relationship because they have the same modes of expression (cardinal/fixed/mutable) but are placed in a different element (fire/earth/water/air). The difference in element poses a significant dilemma, between masculine (fire/air) and feminine (earth/water), mythical and intellectual vs. mortal and emotional.

Let’s move on with the fixed signs (read about the cardinal squares here). As opposed to the cardinal signs, fixed signs don’t seek to assert and accomplish, they are what they are – dwelling in states of being. They are not seeking to become but rather to affirm a state or a stance. Cardinal signs are stubborn through consistent movement with a specific purpose; fixed signs are stubborn through attachment to a specific purpose. Take Aquarius for example, the fixed air sign. Since it belongs to the element of air, it is intellectual like Libra, the cardinal air sign. Libra seeks to achieve refinement through the use of the intellect while Aquarius remains loyal to its own refined thinking – or rather, to thinking itself. Aquarius thinks, and it is reality. Admittedly it sounds like there’s a grandiosity complex hiding behind this way of being, but its really not as bad as it sounds. Aquarius reflects the capacity to have a set frame of mind. It’s necessary for humans to have some kind of fixed mental structure to operate within, to seek refinement within, to explore within. Without some kind of intellectual convictions there would be great uncertainty to the point of us being unable to cope with existence. Aquarius is the sign of fixed concepts the mental patterning. It’s also the sign of genius insight, new thought, progression and innovation. In order for some things to progress in the real sense, there has to be a replacement of the rigid mental frameworks that represented the old paradigm. It’s obvious why Aquarius is a universal sign, seeing as it operates on such a broad level of existence – altering the very cornerstones of conceptual reality. In square to Aquarius there’s Taurus, the fixed earth sign. While Aquarius is masculine and non-physical, Taurus is feminine and physical. Fixed earth clashes violently with fixed air because one is based in the concrete realm, the other in the abstract realm. To Taurus, intangible ideas doesn’t make sense – they don’t serve to alter life as it has always been, getting up in the morning, working through one’s day, eating, sleeping and doing it all over again. Far reaching ideas involving the potential development for humanity and the collective doesn’t really concern this sign, it’s primordial and deals with the basic, daily routine of life. Physical comfort, stability and predictability weigh heavily for Taurus while Aquarius would only really be able to value the earth plane as a concept – not for its physical attributes. The sensory dimension that belongs to Taurus is only a phenomenon to Aquarius, which deals with everything intellectually from a higher plane. Taurus is intimately attuned with the body in terms of sensation while Aquarius perceives the body mentally. There’s no common ground to be had – the signs radically conflict in this way. Taurus can’t understand unmanifested reality while Aquarius can’t be confined to the physical nor accept the “ultimate” reality of the material realm according to Taurus. Sensual pleasure doesn’t mean anything to Aquarius; it can only appreciate the idea (ideal), not the flawed material version of it.

The other sign squaring Aquarius is Scorpio. While Taurus could be described as physically attached, Scorpio could be described as emotionally attached, being a fixed water sign. Scorpio is probably the most complex sign of all, seeing as emotions in themselves are complex, but when fixated, they reach high levels of intensity. Aquarius has a certain global impersonal intimacy going that can be very comforting – especially to strangers and friends. Aquarian intimacy is the intimacy that all humans can share because it stems from being part of the same universal family. Scorpio on the other hand has little capacity to be impersonal because everything is felt on the deepest and most personal level. Emotions are not mere concepts to Scorpios; they are more real that flesh and blood, which is why Scorpio is the sign of extremes. Control over emotions is very important for this reason, their power literally has the capacity to make or break anything in life. There’s enormous passion and resilience to the fixed water sign that Aquarius would never be able to relate to other than as a concept. Aquarius can often offer understanding, but that’s not enough for Scorpios who wants to feel alive through involving others in the same intense experiences they go through. While Scorpio is like a magnetic vortex of emotional energy, Aquarius can expand their minds enough to intellectually sympathize with emotion, but they will not be able to approve of uncivilized behavior or get involved in anything deep and raw in such a consuming way. Aquarius has a futuristic mind that is concerned with ideas and ideals while Scorpio has a passionate and raw perception of reality, trailing back to basic survival and dominance hierarchies. Scorpio is concerned with the hidden underpinnings of reality, the struggle between life and death, the transformation of base metal into gold, the rise of the phoenix after the burning and destruction. It’s not an intellectual process but rather a process of coming up against life in the most brutal of ways in order to shed the layers and reveal something of purity. That which cannot be taken away will remain at the end of the day, and everything else should be allowed to fall away, however painful it might be. This couldn’t be further from the conceptual realm that Aquarius is concerned with. To Scorpio, the border between good and bad is blurred – what is sought is transcendence of polarity. The mental faculties, as opposed to the emotional, have a separating function. It isn’t possible to separate the old from the new any other way than through dividing reality into distinct categories. Aquarius cares about improvement and introducing change, which depends on identifying an ideal – Scorpio cares about transformation from within, sitting through the fire and feeling how the very base substance is altering itself at the core. Both signs are concerned with the very fabric of reality but in very different ways. Aquarius constitutes the mental blueprint that can be altered through detaching from the current order and visualizing something different. Scorpio on the other hand constitutes the subconscious emotional cornerstones and attachments that are intensely personal and painful to let go of. Simply put, Aquarius is civilized and clear, Scorpio is uncivilized and blurry, and they can’t really see eye to eye in any other way than that they’re both interested in decoding reality and existence – even if its for completely different reasons and through completely different methods.

To flip the tables completely, let’s take a look at the opposite signs of Aquarius, namely Leo. The fixed fire sign is complementary to Aquarius and has to do with maintaining the integrity of the self, not maintaining the integrity of thought. While Aquarius has a way of being sure of things on an intellectual level, Leo is sure of its own energy and spirit. There’s hardly a more charming and warm sign than Leo – it’s associated with creativity, intuition, leadership, generosity and talent. The Sun, which is the “planetary” ruler literally sustains life and is basically a source unto itself. While Aquarius is good at remaining in integrity relative to its own unique and liberal thinking, Leo is good at remaining in integrity relative to its own unique self-expression. Taurus, the sign squaring Leo isn’t so much concerned with creativity as it is with stability. The integrity of Taurus is that of the body, not of the spirit. As long as there’s physical permanence and stability Taurus is happy, while Leo would see material gain as a secondary benefit of talent and expression. As long as there’s physical proof of competence and value, there’s nothing to fuss about according to Taurus. There’s simplicity to the fixed earth sign that the other signs lack – it views life through the lens of assets and value and attempts to have control over these things. In a sense, it is much easier than having control emotionally, like Scorpio attempts, because emotions are intangible and obscure. Leo, like Taurus and Scorpio, is also concerned with control, especially when it comes to how to show up in the world. There’s enormous pride to the sign of Leo and it wants to be seen and admired unconditionally. Leo is essentially the king that demands to be worshiped no matter what he wears, says or does because he carries himself with such poise and self-respect. This is difficult to sympathize with for Taurus, who is too grounded and practical to see any purpose to parading excessive confidence. While Taurus is likely to measure happiness in material “standing” and acquirements, Leo is unconditionally honoring to the grandeur of the self by rising above such “petty” things. It’s love that is the most important and Leo thinks itself to be deserving of the greatest love of all. It might seem quite self-centered and presumptuous to Taurus, who puts little value in creative expression – although it loves pretty things as art, albeit not for the same reason as Leo. The joy of creating something is what Leo is all about, while Taurus is more for the grounded satisfaction of surrounding itself by precious goods. At the end of the day, these signs won’t understand each other’s perspectives. Taurus is mortal and Leo is mythical – the Taurean earthiness offends Leo in its attempt to bring legend to life.

Last but not least there’s the Leo-Scorpio square. Leo, being fixed fire, experiences life as a journey of enfoldment in the direction of glory and magnificence. Purpose, meaning and nobility sits at the core of this sign, innate positivity and joy radiates from its center. Scorpio, being fixed water, experiences life through levels of emotional intensity in the direction of transformation. There’s a double-sidedness to Scorpio that Leo lacks, it views life through severe polarity and ultimately knows that nothing is what it seems. Scorpio knows that it’s naïve to take anything at face value. That which appears to be true, is all too often only a well-crafted façade designed to ensure survival on some level. Scorpio’s reality is complex, love and fear are mixed together and one can’t have one without the other. Leo finds this way of seeing things to be offensive and appalling. In Leo’s world, there are such things as true goodness and unconditional love. There’s such a thing as higher purpose, brilliance and excellence that is not a coping mechanism or dominance tactic. Scorpio would deem this attitude fanciful and unrealistic, pointing out that when push comes to shove and life becomes threatening, there’s no room for higher truths or glamorous pursuits of honesty and character. There’s only fear and how far one is prepared to go to ensure survival – however primitive and unpleasant it might look from a detached point of view. When fear reaches its peak, there’s a point where one will take any comfort or relief available no matter how much it conflicts with one’s noble goals. When there’s severe all-consuming emotional pain and it can be soothed, all ideas of love goes out the window. Nothing matters but one’s own uncompromising “selfish” needs. Scorpio has familiarity with the darker dimension of life and can’t sympathize very much with the Leonine optimism. Leo essentially looks on the bright side of life while Scorpio looks on the dark. Scorpio thinks that everything stems from the need to survive while Leo thinks that life is about extending the love that lives within. Both signs share a distinct focus on the self, although Leo more accurately falls under the label “self-centered” while Scorpio would fall under the label “selfish”. Both are very stubborn and like to come off as strong and capable. Leo gives the impression of being good and fair in its attempts to establish leadership, while Scorpio likes to be seen as intimidating and sharp to establish dominance. These signs have a difficult time with each other as Leo isn’t in touch with the gut-wrenching fear of life and Scorpio can’t relate to the ultimate goodness and light that Leo has going for itself.

[mrsgiovanna]

Don Giorno fluff alphabet

An A-Z fluff breakdown of how it would be to love and be loved by this golden dreamboat. I may or may not have gotten carried away... *sigh* 🥺💭❤️

Cut for length

Activities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

Giorno doesn’t have much free time, so the little he has available will be divided between going out to places where you both can enjoy the outdoors and feel the sunshine on your skin. He would also take you to art galleries and museums to indulge in the culture. Every so often, you guys will stay in and just bask in each other’s company.

Beauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

Naturally he’ll love you overall, inner beauty, outside beauty, everything. However, he’s especially drawn to your eyes. They are the windows to the soul, he loves that he can always see your true feelings by observing your eyes.

Comfort - How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

The situation would determine Giorno’s actions. If you’re feeling a bit low he will make himself available to talk to you and help you work through your feelings. If you just need a cuddle and words of reassurance he will provide those too. If you’re being consumed by anxiety and panic he will try and calm your breathing to a more even pace and he will talk you down in a calming tone and reassure you that whatever it might be, he will always be there for you.

Dreams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?

Growing up, Giorno didn’t have the happiest childhood. I feel he would yearn for a family of his own. Even though the thought of having children might make him anxious, he would be determined to give them the life he didn’t get to have.

Equal - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

Giorno would be the dominant one, but very gentle in his treatment of you. His natural charisma will have you submitting without you being aware of it, a perfect combination of Johnathan and Dio.

Fight - Would they easily forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

Giorno would not want to fight with you. Conflicts will be handled by trying to come to a compromise. If emotions are running really high he would remove himself from the situation until he’s calm enough to discuss everything. If you were the one at fault and you apologized to him, he would forgive you, he can’t stay upset at you.

Gratitude - How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

Giorno appreciates everything you do for him. Regardless of how big or small the gesture is, it means a lot that you’re being thoughtful of him.

Honesty - Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

Given the nature of what he does, there will be a lot that he would want to keep away from you for your own safety. He will keep the mafia business as separate from his home life as possible.

Inspiration - Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?

Giorno would learn how to be more outwardly affectionate and more expressive in general from his s/o. Not having formed secure attachments in his childhood, his s/o would be instrumental in him learning how to trust and reach that level of intimacy with someone.

Jealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

He’s not someone who easily gets jealous, he trusts you completely. However if a situation does arise where someone is being a bit too familiar with you, he will come to you and casually rest his arm around your waist and draw you against himself. A simple, but clear message.

Kiss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

The first kiss was sweet, albeit a bit awkward seeing as you were both young and inexperienced, as you both become more confident the kisses are passionate and leave you both yearning for more.

Love Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

He would confess in a quiet setting, perhaps during a candlelit dinner, or on a long walk along the coastline, initially being a bit nervous, but generally he would hide his nerves well. He would be forthright but still very sweet and respectful, perhaps using GE to create a single rose for you. He wouldn’t pressure you for an immediate response either, rather giving you some time to consider everything.

Marriage - Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?

Giorno would want to get married when the time is right. The proposal would be very intimate, just the two of you. He would have your ring made to your tastes which he has already discerned from how well he knows you. He would list all the reasons he’s thankful for you and end off with the big question as he slowly takes out the ring box from his pocket. The wedding would be everything you want it to be, he gives you free reign, offering his input when you solicit it. In the marriage, he wants you both to have a peaceful, happy life together, free from conflicts and drama, you’re his safe haven, he will protect that at all costs.

Nicknames - What do they call their s/o?

Mostly terms of endearment in his native Italian dialect. His favorites would be Tesoro, Amore, bella/Bello.

On Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

People very close to him would be able to tell he’s in love by the softness in his eyes when your name comes up in conversation. Thinking about you instantly puts him in a better mood. When it’s just you two, Giorno in love is like the first sunshine after a storm, it quietly illuminates everything with a warm glow, making you ever so thankful for its existence.

PDA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

While everyone who needs to know about your relationship does know, he’s not big on PDA or flaunting the relationship in front of others. Any PDA would be chaste, holding your hand every now and then, or putting his arm around your waist. Aside from keeping you safe from potential enemies, he just feels more comfortable being overtly affectionate with you in private. He has to maintain his image as a Don.

Quirk - Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship.

Over and above his stand abilities, Giorno has an uncanny ability to read people, so he will always be able to sense when you’re not okay.

Romance - How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

He can be very romantic when it comes to showing you how much he loves you. He’s the type of lover to surprise you with something you’ve wanted but have long since forgotten about. He would arrange small, anonymous escapes for the two of you to the countryside. He knows that as much as he can give you material gifts, what you want most from him is his time, so he would think of creative ways in which you & him can escape.

Support - Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

Giorno is supportive of your dreams and goals, having realised dreams of his own, he understands how important it is to have the people closest to you believe in those dreams. So whether your goals are academically inclined, a charitable venture or any other goal, he will support you in any way he can.

Thrill - Do they need to try out new things to spice out your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?

Giorno wouldn’t mind trying out different things if you wanted him to, the busy nature of his work keeps things spontaneous though.

Understanding - How well do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

Giorno can read you like an open book, he’s very in tune with your feelings and emotions, as mentioned earlier, he is a pro at reading people.

Value - How important is the relationship to them?

He places a large degree of importance on you and the relationship in general. You keep him grounded and he is able to be the truest version of himself around you.

Wild Card - A random Fluff Headcanon.

One of Giorno’s guilty pleasures is baking with you. He has quite an affinity for chocolate, and he lives for warm domestic moments with you, so he can indulge in both by doing this.

XOXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

In the beginning his attempts at physical displays of affection would be slightly awkward, but as he grows more comfortable, he grows to adore receiving as well as giving kisses and cuddles, in private of course.

Yearning - How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

He understands that his job will most likely keep him away from you for periods of time. He will always check in on you even if just by text, to make sure that you’re okay, and to let you know how much you mean to him. He knows that he’s returning home to you, which encourages him during particularly difficult times.

Zeal - Are they willing to go to great lengths for the relationship? If so, what kind?

Giorno’s no stranger to being placed in dangerous situations. He will do everything in his power to keep you safe, if anything threatens your wellbeing, he will do everything he can to make sure you remain unharmed.

[skrltwtch]

Silverware

Prompt: on a first date and A is a werewolf and doesn’t know the cutlery is silver (Source in master list)

Word count: 4,897 words

Genre: Fluff, romance, supernatural

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

I buried my nose in the bouquet of lilies and roses Jake had bought for me. It was the perfect emblem of summer with its warm, sunny hues and fresh, tangy scent — and the perfect segue to the next part of our date. The first part was a visit to the local farmers market, out of which we were now walking. Coming here had been his suggestion. It was something different from the usual first date stuff like coffee or a movie, and I liked it a lot, notwithstanding my initial reservations. I liked him a lot after what I’d seen of him at the market. I felt like the place helped bring out a certain spark between us. For one, there was constant talk about planning for date number two using what we’d seen and bought. If that wasn’t promising, I didn’t know what was!

‘Thank you, Jake. I love it,’ I said about the bouquet.

‘You’re most welcome,’ he said, a broad grin brightening up his face. ‘And thank you for the flavoured olive oil. Makes me kind of wish we didn’t have this dinner reservation …’ His grin turned sheepish in nature. ‘But that’s what’s making me look forward to our next date.’

See?

‘Do you want to call for a taxi or walk?’ he said.

‘What time’s our reservation?’

‘6:00 p.m. on the dot.’

My watch came alive with a flick of my wrist. ‘Let’s walk, then. I want to walk off all the cheese I sampled.’ I’d sampled a lot. In my defence, it was almost that time of the month — and that other time of the month. ‘Do you know the way?’

‘Google Maps can teach me.’

The route Google Maps recommended was scenic. London Bridge looked lovely at this time of day. Its appeal was heightened tenfold with Jake by my side. Could you believe we met on Tinder? It still felt unreal to me. Getting this match used up all my good luck for the year, and we were only at the halfway point. Well, if it meant burning the roof of my mouth most of the time I ate to be able to quit the dating scene for a reasonable amount of time (“once and for all” seemed a little ambitious, though that would be nice), who was I to whinge about the hand fate had dealt me?

The restaurant was located within the Four Seasons. We had been overdressed for the market. Now we were … dressed. I was flattered as fuck that he picked such a lavish place for dinner for a first date. I hadn’t the faintest clue what it was about my profile and our conversations that made him think of a high-end French restaurant helmed by a Michelin-starred chef in a five-star hotel. I did try to talk him out of it (gently). It wasn’t about the cost. Food was one of the things I was more than happy to splurge on. It was just … I never had anyone think this highly of me before, and I wondered if that’d change if … and when … he knew the truth about me.

The host led us into the main dining room and to our table. An amuse-bouche and warm bread came together with the menus. The prices were as expected of the type of establishment this was. Everything sounded good, though this was my first time coming across some of these words. Looking up what each one meant would add to the time something would take to reach our table, and my stomach would sooner eat itself out of desperation.

‘Please don’t hold back,’ said Jake, sensing my indecision. ‘The price is not an issue.’

I did have to hold back. The coincidental timing of this month’s full moon and crimson tide amplified every-fucking-thing I could possibly feel to a divinely hellish degree in the days leading up to them. As it was, I could easily polish off a five-course meal by myself. If Jake wanted this date to go in a less chaste direction after dinner, hell would freeze over before I’d even dream of talking him out of it, first date etiquette be damned. Was the fact that he was such a goddamn catch helping anything? Absolutely fucking not.

‘No, it’s not that. I can’t — I can’t decide what I want,’ I said. It was technically true. I was torn between the beef (never mind that it was £98) and veal … and both of them at once. ‘What are you having? Maybe I can get some inspiration from you.’

‘I was thinking the turbot … or the pigeon. Yeah, I can’t make up my mind either. I’m leaning toward the pigeon …? No, the turbot. Or the scallops …? Fuck. I need an adult.’

‘Let’s choose for each other.’

‘Promise not to hate each other’s choices — or each other?’

‘Pinky promise.’

We locked our pinkies together. I hoped touching him would never grow old.

Once our promise had been sanctified and we separated from each other, Jake signalled for the nearest available waitstaff. One came over almost instantly. The restaurant was bustling with activity, a far cry from however long it had been since we arrived. She took our order in a cordial fashion, not making a bigger deal of how we were ordering for each other than it should be. I chose the scallops for him; he chose the veal for me. I convinced him to start our evening with the langoustine; he sweet-talked me into ending it with the rhubarb. The waitstaff validated all our choices with a knowing smile.

‘I’ve been meaning to ask — and I hope I’m not stepping on your toes here,’ Jake started when our table was just the two of us again. ‘How did you get that scar on your arm?’

It was a matter of time. And bless him. I would never be offended by being asked about the memento of what’d changed my life forever. I would be offended by an adverse reaction to how exactly my life had been changed forever. I raised my arm, giving the scar in question its time in the limelight: brownish-pink, leathery circles arranged in the shape of a crescent, the ones at both ends abnormally large and ragged-looking.

‘My ex-boyfriend’s dog bit me,’ I said. More like my ex-boyfriend was the offending canine. ‘That’s not why he’s an ex, in case you were wondering.’ I’d wanted to be turned. He’d been more than happy to lend a helping set of fangs. Sadly, the idea of us being cute werewolves together was yet another one of those things that simply sounded nicer on paper. It wasn’t all sour between us. We’d sometimes meet for romps. It got lonely sometimes, and it wasn’t like there was an online forum for werewolves to socialise or whatever. I doubted he’d have known of one anyway: he was literally an American werewolf in London.

‘Did it hurt? It’s such a huge scar. Did anything happen to the dog afterward?’ He held up his hands. ‘Am I being nosy? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.’

I smiled in the hope that it’d soothe his worries. ‘You’re not being nosy. It was … okay for what it was.’ Euphoric. ‘The dog’s fine. It wouldn’t be fair to punish it for an instinct thing.’ Yup.

‘That’s good to hear. I think it’s a bad-ass scar. And I didn’t think it’s why he’s an ex.’

‘Thank you. Most people did. Yeesh. Give me some credit.’

‘I’m not most people … I hope.’ He smirked. The apples of his cheeks turned pink.

He really wasn’t. And I wanted so badly to tell him the truth there and then to see if that’d still hold true in the face of a bombshell like that. I had yet to tell anyone about my lycanthropy: if movies, television shows, books, etc., were anything to go by, I’d assume most people would react with fear or disgust, or both. Chris had been thoroughly flabbergasted when I reacted the way I did to learning why he always turned down my suggestions to go stargazing on nights with full moons. I got what I wanted … eventually.

Maybe I should tell Jake sooner than later. Separate the wheat from the chaff. Then I wouldn’t have wasted my time having pined for someone who thought I was some kind of freak of nature.

That conversation — or rather, thinking about that conversation would have to wait, as our starter, bearing a strong resemblance to a flower arrangement with colours befitting the season, had arrived. Food was always the perfect diversion. So would the inevitable back-and-forth about who could have the third and last langoustine. Splitting it was not an option, for one piece was as big as my thumb. I loved the portion sizes of frou-frou fancy food. So much bang for one’s buck.

‘Bon appétit,’ said Jake. ‘That’s one of … four French phrases I know. The other three are “bonjour”, “omelette du fromage”, and — I can’t say the last one in a public place.’

‘Is it by any chance … “voulez-vous coucher avec moi, ce soir”?’ I made no effort whatsoever to lower my volume — or maintain a straight face. Brazenness blazed through my cheeks.

He put a hand on his chest, feigning surprise. ‘Well!’ He tittered. ‘Since you asked ever so nicely, and in French … This is why your choices tonight have been shellfish, isn’t it?’

‘You got me.’

‘Looking at their portion sizes, I don’t think your plan’s going to work very well. Not that I’d need the help of — shut up, Jake.’

‘Keep going, Jake’ was what I’d have said and wanted if my stomach hadn’t started getting on my case for letting good food get cold. (‘Rubbery lobster? Gross!’) There was something hot about someone like Jake — a posh, proper Englishman, the polar opposite of Chris … okay, no, stop bringing him up, stop thinking about him, goddammit — talking openly, confidently, about his prowess. Such words … coming out of his mouth … in that accent … I quickly pressed my legs together to quell any desires. Which hunger of mine was responsible for this?

Wanting to satiate the one appetite I could at this very moment without earning myself prison time for my troubles, I said, ‘Bon appétit, Jake’, and picked up my fork … which promptly fell onto my plate with the fucking loudest clang. The smell of burning flesh tickled my nostrils — my burning flesh. My fingers were sizzling where the fork touched them. Sizzling! I prayed it was only my nose that could pick up this delectable aroma.

I stared at the cutlery. Trust a high-end French restaurant helmed by a Michelin-starred chef in a five-star hotel to use real silverware, not that cheap silver-plated shit. I prodded the fork handle — and withdrew my finger immediately. Not one of my finer moments. Please don’t tell me Jake saw it.

‘Is everything okay?’ said Jake.

Ah, fuck.

‘Yeah,’ I said, examining my palm. Good news: the burn hadn’t healed and wasn’t healing as quickly as my wounds and injuries (not that I had many of them) did after I was turned, so that was one less question to dodge. I didn’t want to keep lying to Jake. I didn’t like that I had been. How would I explain the absence of a second-degree burn that existed mere seconds ago anyway? Bad news: was this never going to heal because of what caused it? I had been so careful with silver since I was turned. How would I explain a perpetual second-degree burn? Would it out me as a werewolf to people who knew what to look for? Was now really the time for Twenty Questions?

Noticing Jake had been waiting on me to provide some kind of elucidation on my well-being, I said, ‘I guess I have a silver allergy. Can you believe it? Who’s allergic to silver?’

He didn’t need to say, ‘What kind of allergy burns someone?’ for me to hear it in my head.

‘Can you eat, then?’ he said.

I shook my head. As far as I was concerned, silver was lethal. No ifs, no buts, no maybes. If a perpetual second-degree burn was the worst thing to come out of fleeting contact with the metal, so be it. I’d consider myself a lucky lycan indeed.

‘Pardon me,’ Jake said to the waitstaff who’d come with our entrées, ‘would you have any disposable cutlery perhaps? My lady’ — he did not — ‘is allergic to the silverware.’

The waitstaff did an excellent job of not acting like this very dashing gentleman had just dropped the barmiest string of words on her during her entire employment in this line of work. Even I didn’t quite believe it myself. ‘I’ll see what we have, sir, ma’am,’ she said, cool as a cucumber. After she finished setting down our food, she collected all the silverware on my side of the table and left.

‘I don’t think whatever she comes back with would help with your veal. I could cut it up for you?’ said Jake.

Oh, my God. Getting burnt by silver must be the universe’s way of course-correcting the unusual jackpot I’d hit with him. Good Tinder matches were a myth!

‘No, it’s fine. Thank you. I’ll manage … somehow,’ I said. The wooden cutlery the waitstaff had returned with didn’t inspire confidence in me to not fling a piece of meat or a utensil at someone while cutting into my food.

‘We could swap dishes. I’d be fine with the veal. It was in my top five earlier.’

I suffocated a sigh. His scallops looked more like an appetiser than a main. But what choice did I have? I could either eat the veal like the animal that put me in this position or go through the restaurant’s entire supply of wooden cutlery with nothing to show for the effort in my belly and possibly injure someone in the process. Neither option would do any favours for my image in the eyes of the guy I liked and whose bones I’d like to jump at some point, enhanced animal lust or not.

So, I agreed. I tried to draw out the meal for as long as I could. Between the teeny serving and the unwieldiness of the wooden cutlery, I was having a miserable time. Dinner had become a silent affair, a far cry from everything prior to this point. Contrary to the vibe I was putting out, the food had nothing to do with my dour mood. For the first time since I was turned, I wasn’t happy about what I was. Could I never truly lead a normal life? Did I have to lie to every potential suitor and fret about whether they’d accept that other side of me on top of all the intricacies of dating?

There ought to be a dating app for verified supernatural creatures.

‘How’s the veal?’ I said. I had to speak up: I wasn’t being fair to Jake by acting like a sullen teenager over something he had zero control over, and the silence was deafening.

‘It’s — I might’ve done you a favour. How about my — your scallops?’

‘As good as three bites can get. I can’t tell if it tastes funny because of the wooden fork.’

‘This has been a disaster, hasn’t it?’ He flashed a wry smile. ‘Can I be honest? I have no idea what possessed me to pick a place like this for a first date.’

‘It’s a nice place. And it hasn’t been a disaster.’ If anything, I was the disaster. As always.

‘How was the market?’

‘The market was great. I had an amazing time.’

‘Thank God. I’ll take one out of two.’

I reached across the table and placed my hand on top of his. He made things extra saucy by interlocking his fingers with mine. ‘Jake, it’s fine. Today has been wonderful. I should be sorry for making things awkward with my … allergy.’ Nope, that still sounded silly.

‘What? No, don’t be. It’s not your fault.’

It … kind of was.

‘How about ice cream after this? My treat. I’m certain the rhubarb will be so very pretty and so very … nothing.’

He hit the nail on the head. The food we had would do wonders for my Instagram feed while having done nothing for my diet. I appreciated his offer, though I was afraid it would take more than ice cream to fill me up properly … Then again, that was a problem that rested solely in my dominion, not his, and it was one I intended to solve by trawling the likes of Deliveroo and Uber Eats in the comfort of my underthings at home — the one true way to enjoy food.

I asked for the bill the second dessert arrived. I wanted to leave here as soon as possible. I had quite enough of the wooden cutlery. I felt like a child using them. And like I told Jake earlier, I was on the fence about whether to attribute the food’s slightly off taste to them or my unrefined taste buds. Even the rhubarb wasn’t spared. Dessert was supposed to be my safe space, dammit!

I footed the bill in its entirety despite his objections. It helped that the waitstaff presented it to me because I’d been the one who asked, and that I was quick with my card. Sisters watching out for each other, everyone. The plan was then to go about the rest of the evening as if it had slipped my mind to ask him for his half or even bring it up in the first place. It was the least I could do for putting a wee damper on dinner with my … me-ness. He was going to treat me to ice cream anyway. There. We were even now.

The best-laid plans of mice and men often went awry: Jake snatched the bill folder and, taking out his phone, said, ‘Do you have Paym, Pingit, or PayPal? Why am I only noticing now that they all start with P?’

I admitted defeat: ‘Paym.’ It might be harder for him — or anyone — to believe I had none of those apps than that I was a werewolf. Did I want to put that to the test? No.

My phone buzzed with the confirmation that my plan had been a dud. ‘Thank you. Now let’s blow this popsicle stand and head to a real one.’

We left and worked on our next destination outside the restaurant. The staff had to want us out of there as much as we wanted ourselves out of there. The time of day meant we had limited options: ice cream parlours in London seemed to think people would lose the mood for sweet treats the moment the sky turned dark and the air cooled. Inanity. We had to return to where our date started for the one place that was open at this hour. It was just as well: I needed the walk this time to clear my head after what happened at dinner. It hadn’t seemed to dull the shine of his opinion of me, at least. He was as chipper as ever. Unless he was a good actor and paid up as soon as he did so he could ghost me after this and find himself a date that didn’t have some bogus allergy to silver …

Me? Over-thinking things? Never.

‘Do you want to do takeout or eat in?’ I said when we found ourselves less than fifty metres away from the parlour tasked with plying us with ice cream for tonight without a say in the matter.

‘Let’s do takeout and walk back to Borough Station. Full circle.’

The place was crowded: the most logical outcome for the only ice cream parlour open at this time near a tourist hotspot in the middle of summer. Customer turnover was quick, however, and we left with our orders within fifteen minutes. As tempting as their sundaes and waffles — towering, decadent creations of sugary indulgence — looked, we went back to the basics after our overly sophisticated dinner. Unlike before, what we wanted came to us in a snap: for myself, a speculoos gelato; for Jake, a gelato, too, but make it salted caramel.

And this time, we could help ourselves to each other’s food. With permission, of course.

‘A fraction of the price, but infinitely better,’ I said.

‘I hope the same can be said of our second date.’

‘And what would that be?’

‘Dinner at Chez Walker. Has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?’

‘I do think so.’

‘It would have to be the weekend after next, though.’

‘Why? Got another date next Saturday?’ I had a firm enough grip on reality to recognise and accept that a guy like him had to be neck deep in matches.

‘No … next weekend’s the full moon. I thought you’d know.’

I stopped dead in my tracks. ‘Why would I?’ I buried my stammer under a bemused scoff. Like, why would anyone — any not-werewolf, which, as far as Jake was concerned, was what I was — care to know when the full moon was?

He, too, stopped walking and looked me dead in the eye. ‘Imogen, I know what you are.’

I wiped my palms on the front of my dress. They were suddenly so sweaty. So sweaty. Why were they so sweaty? Could he see that they were so sweaty? I tried to defuse the situation the best — and maybe only — way I knew how: ‘Are we quoting Twilight? I’ll have you know that I liked the book when I first read it in 2007. And I thought the movie wasn’t too bad either.’ This was true, and I wasn’t ashamed of it. Any female millennial who said they had felt nothing for Edward Cullen was a filthy liar.

‘I’m not ashamed either to say I read the book and watched the movie. But I’m serious.’

‘Okay … say it, then. Go on.’ Was that how the line went? I wasn’t going to look it up now. On a list of things that mattered in this moment, accurate movie quotes was nowhere near the top twenty.

‘You’re a werewolf. And I know how this sounds, so don’t humour me or —’ His tone had taken on a jittery lilt, uncharacteristic of someone who ought to be humoured, ridiculed (what his next word had to be), or — my worst-case scenario — feared.

‘How did you know?’

His mien changed in a manner that suggested that wasn’t the reaction he’d been expecting. Fuck it. Chris had trusted me enough to tell me the truth after a handful of dates, and he did it because he liked me a lot and he wanted to get it out of the way as soon as possible so that we could move on in some way. (Me asking him to turn me was the real curveball of that conversation.) The least I could do, really, was to extend that same courtesy to Jake. I liked him. I liked him a lot. If he had a problem with what I was, it was better that I found out now that he did than many months down the road. There was no element of compromise to my … condition.

‘You mean I’m —?’

‘Right? Not crazy?’ I showed him my palm. The burn had taken about an hour to reach the healing stage normal people would reach in a week or so. ‘Yeah.’

‘Damn …’ He cleared his throat. ‘How did I know? I was brought up on a steady diet of horror movies and read way too many young adult supernatural books in the day, more than I’d care to admit. That, and my ex-girlfriend’s second uncle was killed by a werewolf.’

‘Shit.’

‘I’m kidding — about the last part. The first two are true. My ex-girlfriend was a vampire, and one of her uncles — I can’t remember which one; it could’ve really been her second — was with a werewolf when we were together. Vampires and werewolves get along quite well, actually.’

‘You’ve got to be kidding me.’

‘How the tables have turned … I’m not.’ He went through his phone with his free hand and, upon finding what he’d been looking for, passed it to me. ‘Look.’

On the screen was a photo of him with his arm around a hazy figure in clothes that were otherwise in focus.

‘Drove me quite mad at first, thinking something was wrong with my phone. Then she went a little … overboard once, and the rest was history. She shared everything about her world — your world — with me. And I’m also in several online paranormal communities, so there’s that. It’s not all as hush-hush as one might think. It just takes an open mind.’

I returned his phone to him. ‘How did you figure me out?’

‘Your “allergy”. I had my suspicions about your scar. Your reaction to the silverware confirmed them. Allergies … don’t do this.’ He took my hand and stroked my palm. The sensation of his fingers on the raw skin was … electric. ‘I’m sorry I put you in an awkward position and you weren’t ready to tell me. What I said … just slipped out. I understand. It has to be fucking terrifying. It’s okay if you don’t want to see me again after this. But I want you to know that what you are doesn’t change a thing about how I feel about you. How you were turned is none of my business. The whole thing is, really. I did an arse thing. I’m an arse. First with the goddamn restaurant, now this. Way to fucking go, Walker,’ he said to himself quietly.

I flung my empty gelato container into the nearest bin, and then my arms around him. I helped throw away his for him, too. ‘You’re not an arse, Jake. This doesn’t change anything about how I feel about you, too. I like you a lot.’ His cheeks flushed deeply under the moonlight. ‘I was freaking out about this whole thing during dinner because I like you a lot. I am so relieved that we’ve gotten to lay our cards on the table.’ I fanned myself with my hand. Don’t cry, Imogen! ‘And because I don’t want there to be any more lies between us, it was my ex-boyfriend who turned me, and he did it because I wanted it.’

‘Oh. Yeah, it still doesn’t change a thing.’ His lips landed on my forehead in a peck. ‘Okay, I never imagined the topic of our exes would come up so often during our first date. Oh, well. Guess they had more of an impact on us than we’d like to think.’

‘Yeah’ — I chuckled, ‘let’s keep walking.’

I peeled myself off him. Our hands remained intertwined. Like dinner, the remaining walk — as short as it was — to the station was a quiet one. Unlike dinner, it was more so that we were simply basking, revelling, in the afterglow of our attraction to each other and each other’s presence. The world felt right again, just as it did at the farmers market.

The next time we spoke was on the train platform. ‘Thank you for the lovely time,’ I said, ‘and for being such a sweetheart.’ I waved my bouquet at him. It still looked pristine despite all the walking we did. ‘For everything.’

‘Thank you, too. I had an amazing time with you today. I can assure you that Chez Walker will serve larger portions than what we had earlier.’

‘I’m looking forward to it.’

‘The weekend after next, then?’

‘Yes,’ I said, grinning. ‘I’d be down for any time before the weekend, too, if Chez Walker is open then.’

‘I’ll speak with the chef.’

He moved in for a goodbye kiss, which I seized wholeheartedly. His smell and the sound of his heartbeat flooded my senses. I could feel his heart beating against his chest under my touch, thumping, thumping away for every second our lips lingered on each other’s. I had to contain myself and keep things G-rated and light, as such kisses were wont to be, though my instincts were screaming, baying, at me to get to satisfying at least one craving tonight. I was the one to break off the kiss for fear of going too far.

‘Just in time,’ said Jake, his eyes doing that thing they did whenever he smiled. ‘My train’s here. I’ll see you next week?’

‘I thought you said you’ll speak with the chef about next week.’

‘I realised I don’t care what the chef thinks. He’ll be fine with it anyhow: he doesn’t have to bust out the good silverware.’

‘Goodbye, Jake.’

‘See you, Imogen. Message me when you get home?’

‘I will.’

We waved at each other, right before the train doors swallowed him up. My train came soon after, too. I spent the entire ride home wondering not what to fill the void that was my stomach with, but what fresh hell the universe had in store for me in return for scoring me a guy like Jake.

[cinanamon]

ticket to hell — ml (m)

pairing | mark x reader

genre | fluff, smut, church!au

word count | 4.3K

synopsis | You knew he couldn’t be perfect because all humans sin; you just wanted to know how he did.

warning | smut: fingering, penetration, loss of virginity, unsafe sex

“Oh my God,” Mark gasped as he mouthed at your thigh, his lips glossing over the heated skin as he traced his way up from the limb and over your abdomen till he reached your lower neck. He sighed gently as he trailed butterfly kisses along your throat before kissing under your jaw sensually.

You smirked and let your hands wander over his forearms and snake under his open button-down to explore his torso. “Taking the lord’s name in vain now, I see,” you cheekily teased, quirking your brow at him.

He raised his head and chuckled as he kissed the corner of your mouth. “You’re acting like you haven’t said the same thing like ten times by now.”

You shake your head gently and linger your lips above his by a fraction as you look up into his eyes with your own lidded ones. “Well you’re just good between my legs.”

You see Mark go red before he presses his lips to yours firmly in retaliation. You feel his hands snake behind your back and you move your hands down to his belt, unbuckling it to release—

Your gaze snaps up to the stage where the priest was as everyone around you began to sing Hallelujah and stand up, leaving you to hastily copy their motions.

With a quick glance around your vicinity to make sure no one noticed your mental absence from the priest’s sermon, you realize you’re in the clear and become relieved, yet you’re annoyed that your daydream was interrupted. Sure, maybe church wasn’t the best place to have such dirty thoughts (you’d be the first to admit that), but this was also the only place you see the object of your dream’s affection. You let your gaze wander over the faces of the churchgoers before you finally see him with his parent’s in the set of pews to your right.

Mark Lee.

You had known him all your life; seeing as how his dad was choir director and your parents were the charity organizers, you’d come in contact quite often.

From playing in the church yard as children to having to sing together in the pews, he was there. Picture perfect; whereas you would try to be a good example of a child—damn, you always tried your best—Mark was always better. The lead male in the choir, the first to volunteer for the offerings or to help at the charity events.

You remember distinctly how much you hated him in middle school, the rivalry you believed you had with him (he never noticed) that caused your blood to boil whenever he was praised as the best child in the church, the most virtuous.

By now, that feeling of anger and dislike was nowhere near as strong or without reason. You weren’t as religious as you were back then, and Mark wasn’t actually that dislikeable. Quite the opposite, actually. Mark Lee was kind, helpful, responsible, funny—to anyone on the outside, he was picture perfect. But you knew one thing for certain, one thing you would prove if it was the last thing you did.

Mark Lee was no angel.

His eyes were always set on the pastor every mass, mindfully flicking to each bible verse. But you never missed how his eyes would unfocus, how’d he bite his lip, the way he’d readjust his pants. Picture perfect, they’d say. Was he? You knew he couldn’t be perfect because all humans sin; you just wanted to know how he did.

You knew you committed a sin—a heavy one at that—every time you came to church just to get lost in the idea of fucking him. Your deadly sin had to be lust, but you weren’t just going to stop fantasizing about him now; you were too far gone to be saved. Even if you did harbor a crush on the poor boy, it did nothing to lighten your sentence of a deadly sin.

And to think that you were still a virgin thinking like this? Then Mark definitely had to be. Because if you were still so frustrated even after letting yourself indulge in these thoughts, then Mark had to be close to a breaking point if he preached so much about leaving sexual urges and thoughts till marriage.

And sometimes you thought that maybe your assumptions are wrong, or you’re just reading too much into it. But, truly, Mark made eye contact with you a lot. Paired with a quick smile, but not too long after the quick interactions, a little “problem” would arise for him. And since you didn’t have as high of a reputation to maintain, you’d let your eyes linger.

Sometimes he’d catch you and he’d flush, settling the Bible squarely on his lap and bending his head deeply to read it intently. It’d cause you to smirk and your assumptions about him to gain traction which would only fuel your desires for him. You knew he still had humane urges like you, and your goal was to crack through his saintly disposition and make him yours.

But after some time of these quick suggestive looks, exchanges of smirks and raised brows, Mark finally did begin to crack.

It was subtle at first; at your simper, he’d hesitate and try his best to ignore you, forcing a frown as he faced forward and tightened his grip on his bible. Soon enough, even that resolve crumbled and he would glance at you often nervously, a smile playing at his lip and a rising fiery blush crossing his cheeks. And finally, Mark began to tease you too.

It was a few months of these fleeting moments of flirtation before Mark grew confident in returning the affections, in letting his hands linger on yours during greetings, how he’d ghost his lips over the shell of your ear during hugs, or how he’d stare at you during church, waiting for you to meet his gaze. He was into you too; you could see it. If he wasn’t ready to crack before, he was now.

Mark was more than willing to reciprocate your seductive motions and partake in your sexual, flirtatious faces and after any risky lip bite or lidded eye, he’d always look back up at you excitedly for a reaction. And if you were honest, you liked it. You liked that the star church boy wasn’t as pure as they thought, and he seemed to realize this; he only had eyes for you. It was obvious that Mark liked it too; he got a thrill out of falling from God’s grace to enjoy the worldly pleasures with you.

You began to convince your parents to sit with his family, so when you sat together, his hand would subtly linger by your thigh, gracing over it quickly— over the edge of your skirt, slipping under it briefly—before he’d snatch it back to his bible. If anyone were to see, he’d flush terribly and quickly retract, but you got a thrill out of it that you were able to get past his good boy image, as you’d stealthily meet his gaze with a secretive smile.

So the next Sunday was no different. Quick shake of the hand with the deacons then into the church you went, sitting in the pew across from Mark. You sat a few seats back, but he was in the front; only the stage was separating you. Your families smiled at each other across the distance, and Mark’s eyes glimmered as they met yours. You jokingly quirked a brow, pairing it with a playful smirk and he chuckled under his breath, sending you a knowing look as you both sat.

It’s what he did that made the service torturous. His eyes rarely left you, and you only wondered where this bout of confidence came from. You crossed your arms, ignoring the priest before you in favor of challenging him; take it farther than what you have before. He quickly glanced to his parents beside him, to the others in the row, but thankfully he was on the far end, hidden from the view of others if you didn’t look to the side of the priest.

You saw him hesitate, bite his lip, and then he looked up at you. That boyish energy vanished and he furrowed his brows, drawing his lip in farther and, with only a fleeting thought of warning, he placed a hand over his crotch. Your eyes bulged and your jaw dropped in a quiet gasp. A shiver shot down your spine, and you couldn’t believe the Mark Lee, son of the music director, was posing so lewdly in a church pew, where anyone who looked would see him. He was only in such a position for a fleeting moment, sitting back up quickly with a clearing of his throat, no evidence of what he’d done to show. The only reason you knew it happened was because of the quick smirk he shot at you; you glared, but couldn’t deny the effect it left on you.

After service ended and you entered the entrance way with your parents, your eyes instantly locked on Mark and his family coming up to you. He stood with them properly; no crease in his shirt, a belt around his pants, a polite open expression of his face, not a hair out of place. And when his eyes slid to yours, you felt a burning urge to make a mess out of him; you wanted to take it further. His pupils dilated and he seemed to have the same thought as you as he faced your parents.

“Would it be alright if your daughter came to confession with me?”

Your father smiled and patted him on the shoulder. “Of course, my boy! Rub off your good qualities on her, would you?” He laughed at that, and the other adults quickly joined in. But Mark didn’t care, neither did you, as he quickly grabbed your hand and hurried down the hallway away from the front room. You knew you weren’t really headed to confession—though you probably needed it, with the thoughts you’d been having—but it still surprised you when he made a sharp turn in the wrong direction, passing the small room. Your head was spinning; after several months of sexual innuendos and interest; were you and Mark actually about to act on it? “Mark, where—“ And he pulled open one door and pulled you in. It took your eyes a few seconds to adjust to the dark before you took notice of the tables and whiteboard. “Bible study?” You hadn’t been in here in years. You turned to look at him incredulously, causing him to flush but he didn’t let go of your hand.

“What, would you rather do it on the altar?”

He managed to quip back. It was your turn to blush as you pressed at his chest.

“That’s not what I meant!” Your confident demeanor waned as you took another glance up at his face; you tried to ease the sudden dryness of your throat. “Are you...are you serious though?”

He hesitated and you caught a glimpse of his ears turning pink, his hot breath fanned over your face as he tried to form a response. “I-Isn’t that what you meant? With all the looks, I thought...”

You nodded vigorously, heat rising to your own face. “Y-yeah! But I just.. aren’t you a virgin too?” Where was the old, vixen-like you from before?

He groaned and dropped his head onto your shoulder. “Look, I’m just going to say it but I’ve liked you for a while and I really didn’t think I’d confess to you when we’re about to have sex, but—“

Your eyes widened; so he did like you too. You felt like a teenager again; nervous, awkward, giddy. You managed to clear your throat and find a response. “You like me?”

Mark’s eyes widened and he raised his head. “Yeah? I thought you’d guess because you know I wouldn’t just do this because I could…”

You shook your head, a chuckle rising in your throat as your nerves began to dispatch. “Please just kiss me.” With a sharp intake of breath, he nodded and connected his lips with yours.

It was explosive. His lips were tentative at first—you almost wondered if he had never kissed anyone before—but he quickly took ground, adding force into the kiss and tilting his head, his hands coming to anchor your hips. You locked your arms around his neck, letting him lead the kiss at first, to get a feel of how this would go. He backed you up as you kissed, shuffling your feet till your back hit the edge of the table.

Mark disconnected from you to hoist you up, placing his hands on the edge as he dove for your neck. You instantly reached for his hair again, tugging at the dark strands as he kissed down your jaw to the curve of your neck, stopping where your skin met your blouse. This was definitely better than anything you could have imagined before, and your body began to buzz with a dull sense of pleasure.

His hands came up to the bottom of your shirt, shocking you when his hands crawled under the material and circled around your bare waist. You blushed and lifted his jaw to kiss him again; he happily obliged. This time you led, opening your mouth and conjoining your tongues. It was sloppy, granted, since neither of you had much experience, but it was a comfortable pace. You parted for air, meeting his eyes in the dark as you panted before his hands ran over your hips a couple times.

“Can I.. can I take off your shirt?” His voice was timid. You hesitated—this was real now—but nodded slowly, waiting with baited breath as the material was lifted from your torso and over your head. His breath caught as he stared at you, and you held back the urge to cover your chest. He glanced between your breasts and your face multiple times. “Can I touch you?” Your hasty nod beckoned him forward, his hand softly cupping your bra before dipping under the lace. He let out a shaky breath and you bit your lip as he played with your nipple. “Does it feel good?” His hesitance was lowering once more, instead looking at you curiously, arousal evident in the depths of his eyes.

“Y-yeah,” you managed, still not wrapping your head around what was happening. “It’s fine.” He pulled his hand away, the material slipping back into place over your breast and you almost missed the warmth of his hand.

“What would feel better?” He asked the question so openly, and it left you completely red. A fleeting question of whether he enjoyed seeing you tongue-tied now like how you did him crossed your mind, but it left just as soon as it came. You glanced down at your skirt and he seemed to get what you meant. He cleared his throat, his hand coming to squeeze his neck before he ghosted a hand over your thigh. This wasn’t like how it was in the pew; the tension was beginning to eat away at both of you. He glanced up at you for any sign of discomfort and slowly lowered to his knees.

“Getting on your knees for me now?” You stuttered a jibe.

He looked up at you in surprise before he recovered and smirked; he regained his confidence quickly, didn't he? “Just like how I do at church.” You choked and lowered your hand to tug at his hair. He quietly gasped and lifted his head towards you and before you could stop yourself, you raised him to his haunches so you could kiss him hard, biting at his bottom lip as you dragged his head away from your own. His gaze was hazy as he finally settled back down in front of you.

“Just do what you said you were going to do.”

“Of course.” He replied, coming back to his senses and with renewed confidence in both parts, he pulled at your skirt. It came off your hips as you lifted yourself, watching for his reaction at the sight of your revealed panties. He bit his lip at the sight, curious hands coming up to pet at the exposed clothing. You whimpered at the sensation, grasping at his hand before slowly letting go, letting him explore your body. He glanced up at you briefly, and since you didn’t object, he slid your panties to the side.

He seemed to hesitate, bringing his mouth close before his face flamed and he leaned back, studying your core as his fingers thumbed at it. “I’m...not sure what to do.” You relax your shoulders and chuckle at him lightly, picking up his hand tenderly. He grinned at you bashfully, and you tried not to get embarrassed and retract into yourself.

“Um, s-so this feels best, if you just flick at it, I guess?” You directed his hand to your clit, and he automatically did as you suggested and reveled in your sharp inhale. Your hand went lower and it felt harder to talk. “And here is where…”

“I got it.” He smiled at you, sensing your nervousness. He held his breath and let go of your hand, carefully placing one of his fingers on the edge of your folds. After a second, he pressed in slowly. You gasped again and he paused, looking up at you anxiously. You nodded him on, bringing a hand up to your mouth to stop yourself from scaring him again; he seemed nervous enough as it was.

When he got one finger in all the way, he waited a few seconds before trying a second. You gripped the table with your other hand and he seemed to know what to do; pulling his fingers out and pushing them back in a few times before he scissored them. You let out a mewl and you swore you saw his pants twitch from his place on the ground. That’s when you remembered he still hadn’t taken off any clothes.

“H-hey,” he slowed his pace to look at you. “Stand up.” He followed your orders cautiously, but you were surprised by the fact he still hadn’t removed his hand from inside you. Without a word, you unbuttoned his shirt, pulling it off his shoulders and over his arms, his fingers’ temporary absence leaving you feeling empty. They returned quickly and with a quick kiss to his newly exposed skin, you let your hands run over his stomach to palm him through his dress pants.

He grunted in surprise, his hips jerking into your touch and he whined in embarrassment. You giggled against his chest as you finally undid his button and zipper, the material dropped down his legs and he stepped out of them. You could see how he grew confident by touching you; by pleasuring him, that vixen in you was beginning to renew.

You tried to ignore his continuous efforts to your core as you settled a hand over his boner, evident now that the only restricting article of clothing was his black boxers. He dropped his check against your head as he watched your hands work at each other’s respective parts. You could hear his pants in your ear as you ran your hand over his clothed erection before abruptly drawing your hand under and pulling him out. He squeaked and almost backed up, but your slightly tightened grip silenced him with a whimper. He let you give him a handjob for a few seconds, watching with an open mouth as you circled your finger over his tip.

It was only when you lowered his member so it rubbed against his fingers in you that he moaned. Your eyes snapped to his and he blushed but you quickly kissed him again, even more turned on now by his voice. Pulling away, both of your gazes dropped to where his fingers left you and his member greeted your opening. “I’m guessing you don’t have a condom?” You inquired shyly, the realization beginning to make you uncomfortable.

He shook his head regretfully, a wince crossing his face. “I don’t think I would’ve been able to get away with it.”

You bit your lip, and debated it in your head. You sighed, steeling your nerves. “It’s fine, just pull out. I’m trusting you.”

He nodded and positioned himself in front of you. You felt his breath hitch as the tip slid in. “T-tell me if it hurts, okay?” And he slowly sheathed himself in you. Your hands dug into his shoulder as you hissed. He paused, biting back a moan of his own as his head dropped over your head and into your hair. You took a deep breath and gave a curt nod, and he smiled briefly as he started to move. He groaned at the feeling and maintained a slow pace as you both adjusted. After you reopened your eyes to meet his gaze, something in him snapped and he suddenly gripped your thighs and picked up speed, albeit sloppily.

You squealed, your hands blindly grasping at his chest.

Mark chuckled and winced, picking up his head, a smirk starting to play on his bruised lips as he diverted his attention to you than his pleasure. “You’re such a vixen, getting me to do this.”

You managed to lift your head and scoff. “You’re really questioning my morality as you’re fucking me in a church? You have no room to talk.”

He chuckled into your neck, kissing the skin. “Yeah, well,” You tried to ignore his hip movements as to focus on his words. “I think I’m fucking you pretty good right now.”

You tried to ignore how him cursing sent another jolt through you, instead hitting his chest. “You’re—you’re so shallow.”

“You say that,” he snapped his hips and you gasped, your grip tightening on his shoulder. “But I’m only getting deeper.”

You tried not to laugh and forced a glare at him. He looked so good like this. For a moment you felt tender, and you brushed his sweaty bangs away from his face. He met your gaze briefly and his gaze was filled with something different too as he kissed your palm, trying to maintain the faster pace while maintaining eye-contact. The moment passed and the room filled with your pants and moans until a coil started to build in your stomach.

“M-mark,” He grunted in question, too transfixed on where your body’s met to spare you more than a glance. “Mark, I think I’m gonna c-cum.”

“God I see heaven every time you say my name.” He moaned in your ear and if he didn’t give you sass earlier, you wouldn’t have managed a smirk.

“Well that makes for an awkward encounter with God, now doesn’t it?” He laughed into your ear—a sweet and airy sound compared to the atmosphere—as he pulled your sweaty torso closer to him, and you laid your head on his shoulder and kissed his throat as both of your climaxes built. He brought one of his hands down and clumsily searched for your clit and rubbed it to the best of his ability to match the pace he’d set.

It wasn’t long before you felt yourself tense and sigh in pleasure into his neck, your grip tightening subconsciously as you dragged your nails down his shoulders. He whined at the sensation of your climax, but in his haze, he managed to pull out and release onto your stomach. It took a few seconds, watching each other in complete admiration as you came down from your highs before he jumpstarted, his boyish side coming back out.

“I-I’ll go get some tissues, I’m so sorry—“ he rushed in all his naked glory over to the desk where he picked up some tissues and came back over to you, wiping at his release on your abdomen.

You giggled and delicately placed your hand on his jaw, gently lifting his head so you could kiss him.

He pulled away and blinked, leaving you to grin lovestruck. “I never thought I’d lose my virginity in a church, much less the Bible study room.”

He flushed again and disposed of the tissues in the trash can before he came back to you to readjust your undergarments. “I know it’s not very romantic…”

You shook your head and ran your fingers through his hair. “It was nice. I’m glad I lost it with you.” He smiled his dorky smile, and if you didn’t know better, you wouldn’t have believed you just had sex with him. You shakily stood up and you both redressed. He helped you over to the door before you stopped him in the threshold. “And for the record, Mark, I like you too.” His eyes gleamed and he leaned down for another kiss, this time not driven by a lustful want.

On your way back to the front, you both tried to fix each other’s hair and clothing while giggling, but maintained a respectable distance when your parents came in view. He watched you leave longingly to your parents side but quickly hid the look.

“How was confession?” His father asked you two. Your eyes snapped to his and he offered a knowing smile.

“It went fine; we definitely had a lot to say.” You didn’t break eye-contact with Mark as you dismissively made up the excuse to your father, and it made your heart swell that the boy was trying his best not to smile.

Both of your parents continued their conversation about how proud they were of both of you, and you couldn’t help but sneakily slip your hand into his as you followed your parents out of the church.

And as Mark covertly pressed a kiss to your cheek with a barely-contained laugh, you couldn’t help the giggle that rose in your own chest as you tried to push him away. This was surely better than any dream or anything you could’ve asked for.

Mark Lee was no angel, but you surely tasted heaven on his lips.

[yeoldontknow]

I WANT ENOUGH!YEOL IN A HOSPITAL!AU BECAUSE I LOVE PAIN XOXO (also i love you so much)

i made myself hurt. i made myself soft. i made myself fall apart. here we are :(

send me a chanyeol + a prompt!

Verse: Enough + Hospital AU Pairing: Chanyeol x Reader (oc; plus size female; enough!reader) Rating: PG-13 Warnings: some sexual themes; heavy angst; romance; chanyeol cries and it breaks my damn heart; discussions of being overweight; the stigma of being a plus size or fat person in a hospital which is a really specific thing to experience; discussions of pregnancy Word Count: 1.4K

Three minutes. 

It only took you three minutes to know you loved Chanyeol. The day you met him, he was shy, a new hire. He shook your hand with confidence and smiled like he had something he wanted to prove to the sun. He was soft. He was handsome. But then, he sat beside you and he giggled. That day, his desk was decorated with welcome confetti - your idea, a tradition you started for each new member brought to the team. Flowers were placed next to his keyboard, ribbons on his stapler and notepad. Your idea too, a way to bring colour to the monotony of admin work. He giggled, joyful, unbridled, clapped his hands together and didn’t bother to hide the glee that overtook his features. 

It took only three minutes. 

Six months. 

It took six months of dating to realize you wanted to marry him. You didn’t say it out loud, certain this kind of admission was coming much too soon and much too fast, but you knew it was true. Over time, you had grown utterly disinterested in a life, in events, in plans that didn’t include him. You had a life. You had friends. You wanted him to be involved in every aspect of it. It was a Sunday, the day you told yourself you wanted to be his wife. A new thought, a new idea, one you had never tried on before - until Chanyeol, you were content with yourself. 

After Chanyeol, you were alive. You rolled over and cupped his cheek, whispered that you needed him, wanted him, craved him to his closed eyes and soft breaths. He didn’t wake when you touched him, and from the kitchen you smelled the coffee start to brew from the automatic start. You were making a life together. You wanted to age alongside him until your bones were ash.

It only took six months.

Two years. 

The earth moves slowly around the sun, but in Chanyeol’s arms life came quickly, and life came strong. Before him, when you were alone and at peace, you not once felt the urge to be a mother. You are not maternal - you are naturing, you are kind, and you are affectionate, but you are not maternal. Your reasons for not having a child outweighed and grew well beyond your reasoning for having one, but just the same way you woke up one morning wanting to be his wife, so too did you go to bed one night wanting to carry his child. 

It happened silently, suddenly, a thought that entered your mind abruptly while he dried his hair. Sitting on your shared bed, shoulders rounded and skin soft, you decided you wanted more of him. Another. An infinite amount of his hope, his smiles, his laughter, his temper in the world. You wanted family - not just him, your whole life, but a line of it, the kind of line that leaves scars in the earth long after you both have passed, a generation born out of love. You were still unmarried, close to calling him your fiance and still calling him your husband in your mind, a thought and a name you keep to yourself, but this too came quickly. Two years was too soon to want a child, a family, but you wanted it. You wanted it.

It took two years.

Chanyeol has been crying for three hours. 

With your hand held tightly in his, sits beside your hospital bed, eyes and cheeks wet, too afraid to leave your side. Head pressed against the pillow, you watch as he weeps, fights against the barriers that keep you separated, and clings to you as best he can. The back of your hand has grown wet with his tears, his body still wracked with fear and anguish. He’s your soft star, your heartbeat, and you bring your other hand to card through his hair, needing more of him. Needing all of him.

‘I promise I’m fine,’ you repeat. 

You’ve lost track of the number of times you’ve said it, the number of times you’ve done your best to affirm it, but still he does not believe you. His large eyes are stricken, painted with horror as he shakes his head, pushing the chair closer to your bedside, even though there is no more room to spare.

‘No,’ he argues, because he is stubborn, because he is insistent, because he refuses to let it go. ‘You fainted in the kitchen. You didn’t even wake up until we were halfway here!’ The stress creeps back into his voice, skin falling pale once more, and though you roll your eyes at his persistent challenge to your confident affirmations, your heart flutters, wondering how you ever coped without a love like his. 

Giggling, you stroke your finger along the tip of his ear, feeling his long eyelashes flutter against your skin. He’s burrowed into your arm, breathing your scent in deeply. If he could, you’re certain he’d be in the bed with you, unwilling to be parted.

‘Yes,’ you agree, nodding against the rough cotton. ‘But I have juice now.’ You cast your gaze to the bedside tray that contains a large juice box of apple juice. The straw reminds you of when you were a child, the days when you chewed the plastic out of anxiety. Today, it remains perfectly rounded, your toes having wiggled beneath the sheets with each excited sip. ‘I’m practically spoiled here. They even gave me peaches!’

Chanyeol shakes his head against your arm in vigilant disagreement, looking up once more with an expression that conflicts your heart. You would swoon by the sight of it, but are shattered by the pain of it, wishing he would believe you are whole, and you are well, if only so he could return to being your sunshine. 

‘I’m scared,’ he whispers, and you break. 

Laughing at the softness, the silliness of his anxiety, you pull him up to you, kissing his lips eagerly. 

‘Don’t laugh,’ he murmurs, kissing you once more with a groan. ‘I can’t cope if you’re not safe.’ 

The sound of the door opening interrupts you both, and Chanyeol returns to his seat, gaze fixated on the doctor who enters carrying a clipboard. His hair is greyed at the edges, glasses thin framed with lenses almost too thick for the wiring. Normally, you hate doctors. You hate doctors and you hate hospitals, neither a thing that seems to listen to women, all your problems and all your issues always somehow boiling down to your weight or your gender. You prepare yourself now for a reprimand that will almost certainly be moot, ready, once more, to be told you are not thin enough, not well enough, and certainly not privileged enough to be healthy.

‘Well,’ he begins gently, lowering himself to the rolling stool in the corner of the room, ‘your iron count is low which partially explains your fainting spell.’

Rearing back against the pillow, you cock your head in surprise, amazed that, no, this is not about your weight. ‘See!’ you exclaim, giggling as you nudge into Chanyeol.

‘But,’ the doctor continues, distracting you from Chanyeol’s sigh of relief, ‘congratulations are in order. Your blood tests confirm you’re pregnant. You’ll have to come back in a few weeks for a scan and a full pre-natal check up. There’s no way to tell how far along you are at the moment, so you’ll have to schedule an appointment with the nurse on the way out. Until then, I’ve prescribed a full pre-natal vitamin…’

A ringing in your ears overtakes the room, blood rushing simultaneously away from your head and into your cheeks, a conflicting experience that makes you feel dizzy. 

‘Baby?’ 

Chanyeol puts the straw of your juice box between your lips and urges you to sip. Obedient, you regard him with wide eyes, feeling ashen. He’s started to cry again, doing his best to maintain his composure for your wellbeing. And it is only when you pull back, the sugar and the sweetness taking root in your veins once more that you look back to the doctor, bewildered.

‘I’m sorry,’ you begin, finding your voice with care. ‘I’m pregnant?’

At this the doctor laughs, dropping his pen and offering you an understanding smile. ‘I understand this is a shock.’ 

Blinking through your shock, you feel Chanyeol fall into your chest, pressing kisses to your neck, your jaw, your cheek. Openly he cries, his hand wandering down your belly where he splays his fingers wide. 

‘I love you,’ he whispers. ‘I love you, I love you, I love you.’

‘Chanyeol,’ you mumble, stroking his hair with trembling fingers.

He pulls away to look at you with concern, a new wave of tears soaking his cheeks through his brilliant, otherworldly smile.

‘I’m scared,’ you whisper, and he rests his forehead against yours with a quaking sigh.

‘We’ll be fine,’ he assures. ‘I promise.’

[lilxberry]

Can’t Quite Quit You - Chapter 1

Synopsis;

It appears that Mr Stark once had a Mrs Stark in his life that certainly wasn’t his mother. Tony and reader must work around their rocky path for the sake of the Avengers and the work the must focus on together once again.

Warnings: Language. Mentions of past relationship. That’s about it for this Chapter.

Words: 2,840

Pairing: Tony Stark x OC (past), James ‘Rhodey’ Rhodes x OC (platonic)

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(A/N: This is a separate series I will be working on. There will be confusing changes to the characters, original plots and relationships between people. For example;

Tony stark will have been previously married to OC

Morgan will be in existence at the age of 5 in this for a plot that will happen in future chapters

I have set direct ages for some characters like Tony and Rhodey which will respectively be 45 and 46

Tony and Rhodey will have met before they canonly met

Any further changes to things that I feel will need to be discussed, I’ll add them before the chapter begins in an authors note.)

(A/N 2: I will foreseeably not be posting on Thursdays and Fridays. I WILL continue to write during those days though ((if I do not have college work to complete during those nights)) and post them any other days of the week. Also, Chapter three of The Glitch should be up Saturday. Read chapter 2 here.)

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She took one last look around her home that was now vacant and clear of all her belonging, dark from the late hours of the night. Chloe sighed through her nose softly and lugged the last box in her arms through the threshold, closing and locking the door behind her, posting the key through the letterbox then proceeding to head to her car.

One Nick Fury had requested her scientific knowledge to be put to use helping the Avengers. It took a lot of persuasion on Fury’s and Rhodey’s part. Rhodey and Chloe are practically life-long friends with how close they once were, knowing each other for many years, still regularly keeping in touch. So, when Fury approached him about about recruiting her to the more scientific and engineering department of the Avengers, he had contacted her immediately in the hopes of convincing you to take up his offer.

She was renowned in her work as a scientist and robotic engineer, although, no one would truly know it’s her. She gave herself an alias, disliking the attention and wanting the focus to be purely on her work. 

Usually, Chloe wouldn’t need to be sweet talked into such an amazing opportunity but certain circumstances with a certain someone had left a bitter after-taste in her mouth and, if you hadn’t picked up on this yet, that certain someone is, let’s just say, closely involved with the Avengers.

We’ll get on to whom she refers to later.

Placing the last box into her Vauxhall Wagon, she climbed into the drivers seat and began her journey to compound, leaving behind her comfortable and solitary life where she focused solely on living and work. As she drove down the desolate dirt road, her eyes drifted to the rear view mirror, noting the stand alone house surrounded by fields upon fields, slowly fade away as she put distance between it and herself.

Her mind wandered as she travelled, wandering into crevasses she wished would not be explored, memories she thought she had locked away behind barriers and chains well enough.

Chloe thought of him, what his reaction will be when he sees her for the first time in 13 years. If he’s changed, if he thinks she’s changed which admittedly, she had. 

She knew what he looked like recently, of course she did, he was all over the fucking news. She couldn’t even open up Google on her laptop without his bloody face showing up but she hadn’t the slightest clue on what was going on in his life apart from being one of Earths mightiest heroes and quite frankly, she didn’t want to know either.

As she pulled up to a red light, she leaned back into her seat and closed her eyes as she exhaled loudly. A million scenarios passed through her head at how the interaction could play out. She knew things would be fine though, Rhodey would be by her side, a comforting presence helping her through the ordeal.

Her eyes were open once more as she watched the lights change. She turned her radio on, hopeful the loud 80′s rock blaring from the speakers would drown her thought out, remotely giving her a peaceful 10 hour drive.

“Fuck. Me.”

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After a gruelling 11 hours and 45 minutes drive, the compound came into view as she passed the trees surrounding the large, sleek building. Chloe noticed the many people training on the grounds, making the assumption that they were employees of S.H.I.E.L.D., agents training to maintain their fit-for-field-work physique.

As she closed in on the compound, she noticed three figures standing near the entrance. As her eyes adjusted, she was able to recognise Director Fury, whom she had seen through her laptop screen when they first made contact, and Captain America himself stood beside a woman she did not recognise.

Her car slowed to a stop, becoming still then silent as she killed the engine. She huffed out a breath as she unbuckled her seatbelt and opened the door, swinging her legs out first, happy to finally stretched her legs and exit the vehicle finally.

She breathed in a the fresh air as she stoop up, momentarily closing her eyes to give them a well deserved break, adding moisture back into her green orbs. She quickly recomposed herself and closed her door, rounding the car and taking a few small paces forwards to meet the trio.

“Doctor Miller. I’m glad you took me up on my offer.” Fury extended his arm towards the woman for a handshake which she shook with firmly with confidence. As he retracted his hand for hers and began to gesture to the two beside him. “This is Agent Maria Hill and I assume that you already know who this man is.” He gestured over towards the fellow brunette and the Nations favourite super soldier who both gave the woman a friendly smile.

“You assumed correctly.” She mused as she thrust her right hand towards each other them to shake as her left slides into her front pocket of her jeans. “It’s good to meet you both.”

Steve was the next to speak. “It’s good to meet you, too. A few of us have been informed of your work and I believe you’ll be a great addition to the team, working in the labs.” He sent you a charming smile. “I think you’ll fit in nicely with the others.”

“I’m glad you think so.” Chloe sent him a smile back. They noted the lack of shyness, she exudes confidence and is clearly prideful of the work she has put out into the world.

“We should introduce you to the rest of the team in the living area.” Maria speaks up, catching the attention of the other three. They nodded simultaneously in agreement. “If you hand me the keys to your car, we can collect your stuff and take them on to your floor. We’ll move your car into the a secluded area for safe keeping as well.”

Chloe nodded but spoke before handing her keys over. “Let me just quickly grab something and we can get moving, I guess.” Maria gave a curt nod of her head and Chloe walked back towards the Vauxhall. 

She opened up the front passengers side door and reached in to retrieve a box off of the passengers seat and her back pack from floor in front. Satisfied she’s grabbed everything of real personal value, she straightens herself out, closes the door with her hip and makes her way back over to the trio who was patiently waiting by the entrance.

She swiftly handed her keys over to the agent of three before following Fury and Steve through the doors and towards an elevator at one end of the large space.

“Would you like any help with that bo-”

“NO!” She cuts the captain off quickly, emphasising loudly. She cleared her throat before continuing. “Uhm, no, thank you. Sorry, the stuff in here is really important to me and I’d rather not put it into the large hands of a stranger, no offence.” She smiles up at the man bashfully. He smiles at her apologetically in return.

“No worries, sorry.”

As the elevator finally arrived, they stepped inside and rode up to the main communal floor all the Avengers use. The ride was relatively silent, until Fury spoke up. “Rhodes has been quite excited to see you, you know.”

She smiled at the mention of her friend. “I’ve been pretty excited to see him too. Not seeing him in person for 12 years is a pretty long time.” She chuckled at the thought.

Steve smiled as he watched the woman speak kind words about her friend, voicing how, after all this time, she would seemingly still be excited to see an old friend.

They fell back into a comfortable silence, listening to the hum of the elevator as it works to ascend pass multiple floors. A simple ‘Ding’ cut through the silent machinery and soon after the metallic doors slid open, reveal the mixed group of people as they turned their attention to the three now steeping out. 

The silence was daunting as the team watched them walk towards them. The silence was soon broken once again as Rhodey pushed passed the few stood in his way, a massive smile had broken on to his face. “Hey there, Pip.”

She grinned at the use of her childhood nickname. “Well, if it isn’t my favourite Lieutenant Colonel.” She sent him a playful wink as she placed her back pack and box gently on to the ground before surging forward, engulfing the man in a long awaited hug.

He immediately responded by wrapping his arms tightly around her shoulders, closing his eyes to bask in the loving moment between friends for as long as time would allow him. “You’ve grown.” She mumbled.

“You’ve shrunk, short ass.” She pinched his back through his shirt and his chest vibrated as he laughed.

He leaned back, looking at how she’s aged well in person. A few frown lines are scattered across her forehead and dark bags from lack of sleep evident on face but he couldn’t help but notice that she still had that same beautiful, youthful features that remained from their 20′s.

A cough from behind Rhodes brought them out of their small reunion, forcing their attention on to the group awaiting anxiously for an introduction. “Oh shit, right. Avengers, this is Chloe Miller, Pip, these are the Avengers.”

They all flashed her a welcoming smile as she drank in all of their faces. 

‘Too many damn people. I’m not gonna get used to this quickly.’ Chloe thought to herself as she continued to study the heroes before her.

“Maybe we should actually start introductions instead of standing here looking like a bunch of mute dumbasses.” The man she recognises as Hawkeye spoke with a hint of sarcasm. “I’m Clint.”

He began to point at individuals as he recited their names to her. “That’s Natasha, Bucky and Sam. Over there we have Wanda, Vision and Thor. And finally, Carol, Stephen and Scott.”

“Lady Chloe, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Thor boomed as he quickly made his way over to her in just two large strides and proceeds to pat her shoulder.

“Yeah, nice to meet you too, Salt.” She winced slightly as she rolled the shoulder the God had previously touched with his large, powerful hands roughly, referencing the Angelina Jolie character with long, blonde hair.

“I apologize for my rough housing, lady Chloe.”

“All good, buddy.” She patted his arm to show there were no hard feelings between the two.

As it looked like Thor was to reply yet again, Steve decided to interject. “There’s a few more of us but they’re currently either out, busy in the labs or away for other matters, personal or other.”

“Cool.” She simply replied to the man. As formalities and introductions continued to be exchanged between the group she noticed a small girl peer from behind Scott, she appeared to be young, like 9 or 10.

The young girl wasn’t necessarily shy in any way, she just chosen to stay out of the way as the adults talked. Chloe tilted her head towards Rhodey who still stood beside her. “Didn’t realise you guys were a fucking day centre.” She joked quietly, causing the man to let out a chuckle at the crack.

“That’s Scott's kid, Cassie. It was Scott's weekend and she really wanted to stay at the compound. She’s a sweet kid.” Rhodey informed her. she nodded in acknowledgement before making the decision to take a step forward and lower herself down to the child's level.

“Hey there.” She smiled sweetly at the girl. “I heard that your name’s Cassie. I think that’s a super pretty name.” This caused the young girl to send a smile to the 43 year old and step closer.

“I think your name is pretty too.” Cassie spoke in a sweet voice, tone laced with a childlike chirpiness.  

“I think we’re gonna get along great, Cassie.” She stuck her hand out towards the girl to finalise their meeting. Cassie grasps Chloe’s hand into her small, dainty one and shook it lightly.

Chloe straightened herself out and sent one last smile towards the girl before stepping back to her original position next to Rhodey. The man smiled sadly as he watched her in the corner of his eye, a knowing look in his eye as he noticed the smile that didn’t quite match the solemn look in her eye as she continuously glances as Cassie.

_______________

The group of people had migrated to the couches within the living space, continue to conversate with the newest addition to the building although, Scott had taken Cassie out to get food and have some daddy-daughter time.

As they continue to get to know each other, the elevator dinged once more, signifying the arrival of more people. Chloe peered over, seeing one Doctor Robert Bruce Banner, whom she was a big fan of, and a young male at his side. 

‘Seriously. How many kids do they let in here?’ 

“Ah, Bruce, Peter. We’d like to introduce you to Doctor Chloe Miller. She’ll be working in the labs with you and Stark.” Steve spoke to the two. Chloe stood up, ignoring the mention of Anthony and met them halfway, shaking Banner’s outstretched hand.

“Doctor Banner, it’s wonderful to meet you. I’ve read all your papers. Your thesis's are impressive, to say the least.” He smiled sheepishly at Chloe. She noted he was quite the humble man. 

“Thank you, Doctor. I look forward to working with you in the lab. Young Peter here works alongside us in the labs sometimes.” He directed her attention to the teenage boy that stood to his left.

“P-Parker Peter. I-uh-I mean, Peter Parker.” He wiped his hands on the front of his jeans before reaching to shake the woman’s, stumbling over his words. 

She chuckled at the young boys behaviour and sent him a comforting smile which seemed to have helped him significantly. “Don’t worry kid. It’s nice to meet you. You must have a bright mind to be working alongside Banner occasionally.”

He beamed at this as he flushes a light shade of pink at her compliment. “I mean, I’m okay, I guess.” She laughed at his also apparent humbleness.

“Sure, kid.” She patted his shoulder gently before moving to sit beside Rhodey again.

Bruce and Peter joined the others on the couches, sitting in any space that was available. As they settled into their seats, Natasha spoke out over the small murmurs between people. “Tony still in the lab?”

“Yeah, he should be up in a few minutes though.” Banner replied then looked over towards Chloe. “Doctor Miller, have you met Stark before?” He questioned.

Rhodey and Chloe shared a look, almost seemingly having a miniature conversation telepathically that didn’t go unnoticed by the group. “I guess you could say that I have.” 

Before the scientist could ask what she had meant by her statement, the elevator dinged once again, announcing a new arrival. “Why is everyone so damn quiet? Who fucking died guys?” He spoke as he walked further into the space, not looking up from the tablet his eyes were glued to.

Chloe didn’t even need to look to know it was him. His voice hadn’t altered that much over the years.

Tony’s eyebrows furrowed together when his question was met with silence. He tore his gaze away from tablet that displayed plans for one of his new suits and looked around at each person sat on the couches. He did a double-take when his eyes reached a a certain brunette from his past, a brunette he hadn’t seen in 13 years. 

“Chloe.” He breathed out, multiple emotions are on display in his eyes alone but the most noticeable of them all is shock which is etched across his face. 

She stood up straight, looking him directly in the eyes, her face stoic but voice laced with many emotions. “Stark.” She spoke with anger, malice in her tone. 

Tony quickly recomposed himself before draining his face of emotion to match Chloe’s. “Don’t say my name with so much hate, Pip. After all, it was yours as well at some point in time.”

Rhodey closed his eyes for a brief moment as he sighed softly before joining the pair in standing, staying close to Chloe as he knows he needs his support most right now.

The rest of the Avengers, excluding the pairs best friend, looks at them in confusion, unsure of the true meaning behind his statement. “What do you mean you used to share it?” Wanda spoke up, her accent thick and laced with curiosity.

Then suddenly, it’s as if the newly gained information and witnessing the interaction between the two had made something click, everyone’s features change as quickly as a flick of a switch. 

“No fucking way...”

“You guys are...”

“YOU GUYS ARE MARRIED?!”

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Something a bit different

Never done an OC before but I kinda liked how this turned out

I hope you enjoy reading this just as much as I enjoyed writing it

As always, constructive criticism and requests are welcomed and appreciated :D

[themarvellouswriter]

WIN MY HEART

Pairing: Winston Duke x Reader

Words: 2.6k

Summary: Winnie and the reader are acting buddies and things get a little heated up after a movie premiere.

Genres: Smut. Porn with plot.

A/N: If this gets enough notes, I may write a part two but for now enjoy! Also, I’ve marked where smut begins and ends (if you’re looking for fluff).

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You took a deep breath and pushed open the car door. You were met with blinding flickers of light. You smiled flashing your pearly whites to the crowd. The noise surrounding you grew louder. You stood up revealing a smooth expanse of your leg.

The gold material of your dress fluttered flatteringly and you seemed to glow under the lights. You waved at the paparazzi as you walked towards the venue where your latest movie was about to premiere. You waited at the door as you answered a few questions about it. Your answers matched your excitement. “I can’t wait for everyone to watch this! Its going to be amazing!!” You gushed, face warm.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a limousine stop. Winston Duke stepped out. He was dressed in a vivid green suit with a polka dotted shirt. He stood tall and gave everyone a dazzling smile. He had your heart racing and blood pumping in your ears. You both had been good friends for a few years now and you had fallen completely head over heels for him sometime. This was your second film together and both of you had been thrilled at the opportunity to work together again.

He engulfed you in a hug as he reached you. You smiled up at him and answered a few more questions and headed inside.

Your arms were linked as you made your way to your seats which were next to each other, both of you being the main leads. You settled down comfortably as you waited for the movie to begin. You were playing the morally dubious villain to his self righteous hero. Your mind drifted back to the table read, your characters had complemented each other’s perfectly and the official shoot had started just a few days later. Right now, it was more elbow touching and knee brushing which was keeping you distracted. Little did you know, you had a similar effect on him.

You forced yourself to focus on the screen, just in time to see yourself execute a flawless backflip off the roof of the building you were in. You watched as you hit the water, secretly impressed by your skills. You personally felt that the scene had been impossible to shoot because you knew you had the strength of a newborn. You had cried after messing it up for what felt like the millionth time. Winston had been there to brush away your tears and had comforted you by bringing your favourite ice cream by your trailer. The next time you shot it, it had gone over beautifully. You treated him to dinner and the smile he’d given you afterwards had made your day.

The scene cut to Winston’s surprised and mildly impressed expression as he peered over the edge. “You did good. I think its my favourite scene so far,” he murmured from beside you, careful to not disturb the others watching. You squeezed his arm in response.

Eventually the movie ended and the crowd began to clear out, after offering their congratulations. Next was a dinner with the cast and crew to celebrate. Winston and you had been separated sometime ago and now your gaze kept drifting to where he was supposed to be. You mingled with your friends from the movie before being led out to dinner.

You found yourself next to Winston at the dinner table again. It held about fifteen people, closely sitting together. Much more close than you would’ve thought. Every single time either of you moved, the other could feel it. You tried to keep your fidgeting to a minimum but you were getting tired.

It took you a while to realise that while you’d been maintaining a cheery conversation with one of your producer friends to you right, you had stopped feeling Winston moving. You discretely turned your head to find his arm on the back of your chair. You hid a smile and continued making conversation.

As dinner wrapped up and everyone headed out, you approached Winston, offering to walk him back to his hotel. He agreed and you both left the venue together. His hotel was not far so you reached there shortly. You both stared at each other for a moment before you leaned in to press a soft kiss to his cheek.

Pulling away, you noticed how his eyes moved to your lips. Suddenly, a wave of confidence flooded you (mostly due to the way too many glasses of wine you’d had) and you kissed him. As quickly as you had, you brain seemed to short circuit and you pulled back horrified. “Oh crap, Winnie. I’m sorry. I -” You were cut off by him pulling you flush against his body and kissing you deeply.

You rested your arms on his shoulders and kissed back. Hard. It rough, messy and sloppy. Teeth involved and not every well practiced. Any director would be ashamed to see such a kiss happening. You didn’t care. Apparently, Winston didn’t either. He merely gripped your waist tighter. You lost yourself in it and were growing almost dizzy with the lack of air. Finally, both of you parted, foreheads resting against each other. Your eyes were closed, and you didn’t dare to open them afraid that he was going to slip out of your arms any second. “I’ve been wanting to do that for ages,” he said, his voice slightly husky. “You and me both.” You force yourself to look at him in the eyes. He looks like he’s glowing, the lights behind casting a halo over him, Slightly rumpled clothes and his lips stained with your lipstick. You laugh. He smiles. “I’ve got your lipstick on me, don’t I?” You murmur a yes. He smiles wider as he pulls you into another bruising kiss.

“Come up.”

“Now?”

“Yes. I can’t wait any more.”

“Neither can I.”

You don’t know how you made it to his room. You’re fairly certain that the sight of two A – listers making out like there is no tomorrow would’ve startled anyone. You feel yourself pressed against the wall, Winston laying feverish kissed on your jaw, neck and everywhere else. You gaze dazedly, making sure that the door is locked. As if sensing your question, Winston pulls the handle. It doesn’t budge.

You turn your attention to him. He’s looking at you like you hung the moon, the stars and then some. You turn bashful and distract him by pulling off his blazer. Your heart is hammering away in your chest and given Winston’s proximity you’re sure he can feel it too.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

His mouth is back on yours as he leads you towards the bed. You accidentally hip check a wayward table or chair but you can’t be bothered to look. Winston has your entire heart and soul and mind in his hands and you’re way beyond the point of caring.

His fingers deftly pull down the zip of your dress and it falls from your shoulders. Your brain is unable comprehend all what he’s doing, just vague flashes of passion as his mouth finds a particularly sweet spot on you clavicle or as his fingers gently graze an erogenous zone on your body.

You’re breathing hard as you slip out of your dress. You fumble with his shirt buttons and he pulls it off his head, separating only for a moment before his attention is back on you. You’re growing heady with desire as you undo his belt. He has you against the bed as you fall, the backs of your knees hitting the frame. His trousers pool around his ankles as he steps out. He’s towering above you.

Your pupils are blown as you drink in the sight of Winston’s half naked body. His underwear leaving nothing to imagination. Heat floods your body as you prop yourself up on your elbows and pull him down by the slim chain around his neck. He wedges a knee between your legs as he bends down and starts kissing up your sternum. One of your hands is on the back of his neck and the other is tracing patterns on his broad chest. You run your fingers through his close cropped hair and feel him lean into your touch.

He nips the delicate skin at the base of your neck as you arch your back, giving him access to remove your bralette. His fingers move with ease as his hand glides across your now bare back. You lightly tug his head and lay soft kisses on his mouth. He pulls himself forward, his knee now rubbing against your heat. You reach and pull off the last garment separating your bare chest from his.

His black eyes seem indecipherable as they stare at you, in all your glory.

“Stop.”

“Stop what?”

“Staring at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like I’m the most beautiful girl you’ve ever seen.”

“How can I when you are the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen?”

You let his words wash over you. The giddiness of a schoolgirl in love is almost too much for you to bear. You kiss him like you’ve never kissed before. This one is harder, rougher and passionate. He’s kissing you like you’ve never been kissed before. His hold on you is gentle yet firm. Like you’re delicate, one wrong move and you’ll break in his hands.

His hands move lower to rid you of your final piece of clothing. Warm hands on your hips, slowly pulling the material down. Not wanting to be the only one who’s naked, you pull his down too. You rest your hands on his hips, areas marred by stretch marks. He stiffens above you. Sensing his slight insecurity, you give him a reassuring smile.

“All of you is perfect. Not just the face everyone loves. All of you. You’re perfect.”

The change is immediate. His movements are more confident than before. He’s big and in desperate need of release and as much as both of you are enjoying the gentle caresses and languid kisses, you wish for him to move so you can feel him everywhere. You wrap your legs around his waist.

“Please. More.”

“For you, anything.”

He has you by the waist and moves lower. His breathing is uneven, as affected by you as you are by him. It gives you an incredible amount of satisfaction knowing that he feels what you feel for him. He peppers kisses on your inner thighs. You bite back a moan as he bites the joint of your thigh and hip. He mouth is now dangerously close to your sex and the warm breaths he’s leaving is only making your senses rush into overdrive.

His mouth has made way to your folds. You close your eyes at the wave of pleasure that is consuming your body, his tongue doing wonderful things to you. Your head is spinning with his burning touch. His hands were cool but against your hot skin, they felt like ice. Your skin feels like it is on fire as you clench your fingers in the sheets.

You feel him push a finger inside you and your body shudders in response.

“If you’re going to take me, I need to prep you well.”

He pushes another finger and your body is akin to a tightly coiled spring. You’re a withering mess under him, desperate gasps leaving your mouth.

“If you’re going for torture, it’s working. Just move.”

He’s now three fingers in and you’re resisting the urge to very rudely tell him to move faster.

By the time he’s four fingers in, your words are a garbled mess of his name. You feel tears prick at the corner of your eyes. He’s lightly biting the underside of your jaw and in the back of your mind you think that maybe there’ll be a hickey there tomorrow.

Winston’s breathing is now slower. Understanding that he wants to take deep breaths with him, you follow his lead. Your mind clears and everything comes back into focus. More or less.

He pulls out and you whimper at the loss of contact. You feel him smile against the side of your neck as his sex enters your body. You feel the stretch burning your entire body. You’re secretly grateful that he took his time but now you want him to move.

“Move. Please for the love god, move.”

A laugh escapes him as he brushes a wayward strand of hair from your face. The hand on your back is pressing firmly you against him. He shifts slightly and you moan your approval in his ear. It seems snap something in him because he’s now pushing his entire length inside you, making you nearly weep in pleasure.

Time doesn’t exist because all you can think of is Winston. He uses his other hand you interlace your fingers and grip your delicate hand in his much larger one. He’s breathing hard as he slowly begins thrusting into you. Long, slow movements which make you want to scream.

“I won’t break.”

“I know. You’re too strong to break.”

He picks up the pace, spurred on by your broken words of encouragement. The faint night light from the windows make him look ethereal and for a moment you wonder if all this just a fever dream.

But then you see Winston smile at you and squeeze your hand and you realise that this is real. He’s real. And the fact that you’re completely at his mercy is also real. And a very large part of you enjoys it.

Winston is practiced. He knows what he’s doing. He knows what is going to make you feel good and it driving you up the wall. Being so close to your release but just not there. A tear slips from your eyes and within seconds, its wiped away.

“I know you’re close. Do it for me.”

With one last, powerful thrust, you’re like putty under him. Your back is arched and head thrown back as a strong, overwhelming orgasm takes over you. You’re repeating his name like a mantra and that is all it takes for him to come undone shortly after.

You both collapse next to each other, hands still interlaced.

“I’d say let’s go for round two but I don’t think I can handle it.”

He lets out a breathy laugh which has you feeling all types of ways.

“To be honest, neither can I. This was good. Extremely good.”

You both don’t bother clearing up the mess you’ve made, too caught up in each other to care.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You wake up alone. Winston’s spot beside you is cool. You panic thinking he left but then you hear the shower running. He appears at the bathroom door, in just a towel, having heard you sit up.

“Well?”

“Well what?”

“Are you going to join me for a shower or are we going to waste water by taking two showers?”

You smile and let the sheets fall away from your body as you make your way towards him. He can’t his eyes off you as he admires every inch, every curve, every imperfection.

You press a warm kiss to his mouth, not in the least bit concerned about morning breath. You then press your entire body against his, making him moan.

“Well then. What’re you waiting for?”

[popatochisssp]

Undergloom: AU Concept

What if...

Premise

This is a ‘verse where monsters aren’t made of hope--it’s something that they have to get the same way humans do, through positive circumstances and sturdy social support networks.

So...being trapped Underground with no real chance of escape was, in a hilarious bit of understatement, kind of a huge bummer.

In Undergloom, the loss of the Royal Family’s children was pretty much it for monsterkind’s hope.

The Dreemurrs never split—lacking innate internal hope, Asgore was never overcome by anger and never declared war on all of humanity, simply succumbing to his grief. Toriel did the same and so they never argued over war, collecting souls, and falling humans.

Meanwhile, without a goal and the promise of impending freedom to inspire them, monsters have largely given up. Physically, most are very weak and lethargic, on the verge of Falling Down—and Falling Down is a depressingly common occurrence. Monsters are all relatively uninterested in any humans that fall or pass through, making no attempt to capture them. Any Encounters are half-hearted at best.

Not being hunted and killed for their souls, all the humans who have fallen (the six souls Asgore would’ve otherwise collected) are still alive and have made a small community for themselves in the abandoned Ruins. They gradually congregated there upon realizing that there was no way to escape the Underground without killing one of two very sad and polite (if distant) Boss Monsters. Their eventual plan is to wait for seven humans, the amount needed to break the Barrier, clumsily learning what magic they can from disinterested monsters in the meantime. They’re all an assortment of ages now, and mages of varying skill-level, just biding their time until the Seventh Human falls and they can all be free.

Major Characters

Asgore and Toriel: They never officially separated after the death of their children, but the loss caused an emotional rift between them. While they remain married, the passion has gone entirely from their relationship and they stay together mostly as a formality, to best co-rule their kingdom. They perform their duties separately, coming together only for public appearances--or when Asgore is tending to the Golden Flowers and Toriel ghosts in to pick one, leaving just as silently as she came.

Flowey: Doesn’t exist. Asriel’s dust was spread on the Golden Flowers in the palace, but no DT experiments were ever done, so his later incarnation never came to be. He and his adopted sibling Chara are both resting in peace.

Alphys: Without the guilt caused by the DT experiments, the Royal Scientist is actually one of the most hopeful monsters in the Underground. She’s been very inspired by the (ultra-shoujo/shounen) anime she’s found in The Dump and keeps trying to create things that improve the quality of life for monsterkind—if they’re all trapped and can’t get out, they should at least all try to be happy and not give up, shouldn’t they? It’s…it’s hard to believe that sometimes, her hope isn’t unfaltering, but she wants to keep trying anyway. It’s what Mew-Mew would do! She…thinks…?

Undyne: The Captain of the Royal Guard is bitter and frustrated with the whole situation. She thinks that they should be (should’ve been) collecting human souls from the beginning, to break the Barrier—or at least they should’ve harvested one for somebody to absorb and go through to get more! But everybody’s such a bunch of weak sad-sacks that they won’t act, doing nothing at all about the tiny tribe of humans just about everybody knows is living it up in the Ruins. …but she doubts herself too, because it seems like she’s the only one who thinks that way. That’s what bums her out the most, wondering if maybe she’s a bad person for feeling the way she does, but at least… At least all the passion pouring out of a certain (very cute) Royal Scientist makes her feel better, on her worst days.

Mettaton: A discouraged celebrity, once very excited when Alphys built him a new body, thinking that he was finally going to be able to achieve his dreams of stardom, but..well. An Underground of very depressed monsters makes for a pretty cold fish of an audience. He still has a viewership because there’s nothing else on... but his performances just aren’t very passionate these days, getting more and more lackluster by the episode. He wants to inspire monsters to rise up and reach their dreams, but he just doesn’t know how to do that when he’s not even sure he believes in his own dreams anymore...

Papyrus: Another monster who has a little more hope left than most, doing his best to stay optimistic in the face of a really bad situation. He...may be in a little bit of denial, actually? He maintains that somehow, monsterkind is going to be free again! He just! Doesn’t know how! But it’ll definitely happen, just you wait, they’re totally not all going to die down here without ever getting to experience all the neat stuff on the Surface!!! He pretty much has selective hearing about anything related to that kind of hopelessness, tuning it out and not responding to it, mostly because he knows if he dwells on it too long, he’s going to have an existential crisis/breakdown of uncomfortable proportions and noooobody wants to see that mess, hahaha… In the meantime, he’s thrown himself into human studies and analysis, full-on Little Mermaid style because it gives him something good to focus on, and hope that life on the Surface will be good, once they get up there! He’s actually very close friends with Alphys because of their shared interest (though he’s not sure how sold he is on those cartoons…). He’s also trying to befriend Undyne, because she’s Captain of the Guard and seems really cool! And maybe if he could be friends with her, and cheer her up, maybe she could help him spread that cheer a little bit…? Or! Maybe he just makes a cool new friend and at least one person around here a tiny bit happier, which is also good!

Sans: A guy under no illusions that their situation is anything but terrible. He’s very weak and very tired, even for the Supremely Bummed Out monsters he lives amongst. His nihilist sense of humor and his brother are pretty much the only things keeping him from Falling Down at this point—that, and the humans in the Ruins. He’s met a few of them, indirectly, through his knock-knock routine, and he knows that there’s six of them in there now; knows that with just one more, maybe…maybe…? …He tries not to hope too hard, there’s a lot of random chance and timing involved, and humans just aren’t as sturdy as, say, a Boss Monster. Something—illness, injury, old age—could happen to any one of the humans at any time before a Seventh Human can fall… but he still checks on the door every couple of days, thinking that impossible, “maybe…”

Frisk: The long-awaited Seventh Human! They’re greeted after their fall by the six humans who preceded them, and are summarily tutored about Encounters and souls and The General Situation. After that, their quest is to go through the Underground, learning and mastering their magic so that they’ll be able to help break the Barrier. They’re escorted by the other mages, but are mostly on their own, as they want Frisk to learn and strengthen their abilities by themselves. Frisk is pretty safe in Encounters, since monsters aren’t really enthusiastic enough to hurt them, even on accident—but maybe, depending on what they say and do, they could reignite the hopes and dreams of monsterkind…?

Potential Outcomes

No Mercy - Frisk kills all the monsters they can on the way to the Barrier. Once it’s broken, one of the mages (randomly decided each run) will turn on them. They may only be a child, but based on what they’ve just done, they’re dangerous and only bound to get more dangerous as they get older—it had to end here. The last thing Frisk hears is the mages arguing over the morality of it before everything ends… and they have the chance to RESET.

Neutral -  Frisk only kills a few monsters, or doesn’t kill anyone but does not restore everyone’s hope (major characters). When they get to the Barrier, they find that their magic alone isn’t strong enough to help break it…but the other six mages and any befriended monsters will comfort them and assure them that they can just…live down here a little bit longer. They can try again in a couple years, when their magic is stronger, it’s okay, Frisk! That’s fine, they guess, but maybe…maybe they can do better if they RESET?

True Pacifist -  Frisk kills no one and befriends/inspires all main characters. All the monsters show up to cheer them on while they and the mages attempt to break the Barrier. When Frisk’s magic alone isn’t strong enough, the monsters lend their magic too, and all together it’s enough to shatter the Barrier and let monsters and mages finally go free!

Getting the Good Ending

Asgore and Toriel have to be convinced to split--they realize that they don’t fit together anymore, at least not romantically, and after everything that’s happened, it’s time for them to move on from one another and let go of the past.

Alphys and Undyne have to be brought together-- Alphys’ resolve to reach for better things is validated by Undyne’s admiration of her, and Alphys’ belief that she’s not a bad person restores Undyne’s confidence.

Mettaton needs an enthusiastic audience for once. A cheering crowd (even just of one) is enough to make him perform better, which improves his ratings and viewership, which makes him perform better, and so on in a feedback loop of glitz and glamour until he can believe in his dreams and the Underground’s again!

Papyrus is easy-- he just needs to be told of the humans’ quest to break the Barrier. He knew it! He knew monsters were going to be free one day, somehow! And here’s the proof, a band of mages on their way to make it happen as they spoke! Take that, existential nihilist dread, optimism was right!!!

Sans is both the hardest and the easiest-- he needs you to inspire everybody else first, but then it’ll just happen on its own. When he sees all of monsterkind rallying together, having hope for once...it really makes him believe in that ‘maybe,’ more than he ever could before. Ah, hell...he’ll be rootin’ for you, too, kid!

Aesthetic Notes

Mostly muted, washed out colors and plenty of monochrome, big The Neopets Gray Paint Brush vibes.

Monster magic is mostly shades of gray: the default is white but pretty much only children too young to understand everyone’s predicament remain white. The more hopeless a monster has gotten at their worst, the darker and grayer their magic gets. It’s easier for magic to darken than to lighten, so it will take many years of living on the Surface for monster to see their magic work its way back to white, and some may never recover completely--but they can always get just a little bit better! Even if it takes time!

Asgore and Toriel: Very neat and well put together, but overwhelmingly dour--the vibe you’d expect off a very proper and serious Victorian couple. Perfectly respectable black clothing (for mourning), with little to no ostentation. Crowns are pewter instead of gold. Asgore’s hair has faded from gold to more of a dishwater blond, and his beard shows several streaks of gray. Toriel wears Chara’s locket and plucks a fresh Golden Flower every day to place behind her ear, in remembrance of her children.

Alphys: Some of the brightest colors in the Underground--but in comparison to monochrome, even the soft pink and blue pastels she favors look bright. She wears a lot of cute dresses under her lab-coat (sometimes Lolita style), and always has some kind of ribbon tied in her crest or onto her tail-- it makes her feel cute and pretty and she likes the ego boost it gives her.

Undyne: Droopy fins, scales lacking in luster. She wears her hair down, long and loose about her face, but generally has the same fashion and body type as her canon self. Her appearance is one of those things she hasn’t given up on just yet!

Mettaton: A very Apple tech-esque look, clean white and sleek minimalist lines, basically an iPad on wheels. It’s pretty, but...also kinda boring. His Ex form is a lot more fun, still a little bit of a JJ Abrams look, but with a splash of Daft Punk--the Ex form can do rainbow lights and in comparison, it’s mind-blowingly, eye-searingly flashy...and suits him so much more.

Papyrus: No battle body, and not so much of a Strapping Young Lad--he’s a little slimmer in the chest and shoulders, and dresses like the sweet Boy Next Door he is. His magic is a pearly color, almost white but with a faint tinge of gray.

Sans: Not overly different-looking, favors soft and comfy clothes, anything that’s easy to pull on and cozy enough to sleep in. Extra Rounde™, precisely one notch up from however chubby-looking you normally imagine your Sanses to be. Deep shadows beneath his eye-sockets, and eye-lights that match the color of his magic--ash gray.

Not a major character but I had a cool idea for him so

Grillby: Mostly the same, but his flame burns low and rounded, more like a match or a candle wick than a freely flickering fire.

If you made it this far through all of that, thank you for listening to my idea! That’s all I got. :3

-

ETA some other stuff, since I’ve been asked some other stuff! XD

More about Grillby

Muffet and Napstablook

The mages’ powers

Burgerpants and Nice Cream Bunny

More about Frisk and Toriel

Various Skelebros Stuff: I, II, III, IV, V, VI, VII

Monsters’ reception on the Surface

[lesbianrobin]

have u done an analysis on endgame st ships? a penny for ur thoughts

i have not!! i would like two pennies please. my thoughts are not actually worth that much but i think i deserve them anyway. i’m gonna talk about some stuff that may seem unrelated or only loosely related to the question but i prommy it’s relevant <3 warning this ended up being like a thousand words somehow idk how that happened but i’m putting it under a cut bc i’m nice like that.

so! something that’s kinda unique/interesting to me about stranger things is how all of their ships are so clearly telegraphed and quickly developed. there’s a sense of... impatience, for lack of a better word. on the surface, it appears to be largely an effect of the cinematic style of the show; there’s very little room for questioning who someone’s gonna end up with or for slowly developing a relationship over time when you only get eight episodes every like. twoish years. AND you have about a dozen main characters AND evil government forces AND monsters from another dimension. it’s a lot to juggle!

stranger things has a lot to accomplish in a pretty short amount of time. the timeline of a single season usually spans no more than a week (excluding flashbacks/end-of-season timeskips), and well... nobody wants the important stuff to happen offscreen! i’ll use the stoncy love triangle as an example: jancy was originally intended to get together at the end of s1 after steve’s death, but since they decided to let steve redeem himself and survive, there was just no time to separate stancy and get jancy together without it seeming wayyy too abrupt. since jancy was always their plan, they didn’t want to leave nancy with steve, but they knew they couldn’t just have that boyfriend swap occur offscreen... which is why s2 Had to have a stancy breakup plot in order for the writers to accomplish their goal of getting jancy together.

the main characters in stranger things tend to maintain homeostasis between seasons, their circumstances and relationships rarely changing any more than the audience might have just assumed they would anyway (like lucas and max dancing together + sharing a kiss at the end of s2 and officially dating by the start of s3). steve and nancy are dating at the end of s1, so they must still be dating at the start of s2, and thus we must break them up DURING s2. joyce and hopper are friends with some deeply buried feelings in s2, so they’re friends with Less Buried feelings that must become apparent during s3. excluding the stancy situation (for reasons which i think are obvious but i will talk more about later), momentum is always forwards. mileven, lumax, and jancy argue, but they come back together, presumably more mature and stronger than before. 

all of this is to say that stranger things has thus far been rather dedicated to their starting ships. there isn’t much misdirection; mike’s crush on el is obvious from the start, nancy and jonathan share charged moments even while she is with steve in the beginning, lucas shows interest in max immediately and shares more significant interactions with her than the other boys from early on in s2, and the deep loyalty and care between joyce and hop is always apparent. steve and robin (initially intended to be together romantically) hold hands quite early in s3 and dustin asks steve about whether he likes her. 

the point? stranger things doesn’t dick around when it comes to love! they handle their ships with remarkable efficiency. in each season, it tends to be pretty obvious from the start who’s going to end up with who, and heading into the show’s fourth season, almost everybody is paired off: mike and el, max and lucas, joyce and hop, nancy and jonathan. which leaves us asking... are all of them going to last until the end?

we’ve only had one true breakup on the show so far, and as i’ve said before, the stancy breakup is an anomaly as it was essentially “righting a wrong,” allowing jonathan and nancy to get together as they were intended to do from the start. the only other romantic relationship to end on the show was between joyce and bob, and well... we all know why that ended, and it started/ended within the confines of a single season. 

stranger things tends to treat each season as an extended film, right? they draw inspiration from classic 80′s films, and each subsequent season after s1 is treated as a sequel (they are Literally referred to as stranger things 2 and stranger things 3). when they introduce tension in a season, they’re inclined to resolve that tension by the season’s end so that people leave satisfied, while also providing a plot hook for the next “sequel” for audiences to theorize about. this hook is always part of the grander plot, not a will-they-won’t-they tease or something else of the sort. remember, they could have broken up steve and nancy in s2 and waited to get jancy together in s3, but they didn’t! they wanted to go ahead and resolve the tension! 

while there are narrative and practical incentives that i’ve covered for this impatience/efficiency/[insert better word i can’t think of here], i also think it kinda reveals something about the writers of the show. to some degree, they genuinely care about and want their ships to be together! we’ve watched them introduce new characters just to kill them off a couple of times now, and i think it’s fair to say that the writers might be a bit too attached to the mains to consider killing any of them off (at least prior to the series finale). maybe... this reluctance to kill their darlings extends to ships.

romance isn’t the primary draw of the show, but an indulgence, something that there may not always be time for but that the writers continue to prioritize as much as they can because they enjoy it, or feel that it is important to the overall product. if we accept this idea, that the inclusion of and focus on so many romantic relationships in stranger things is (to some degree) indicative of the writers’ own desires, then it might inform our speculation regarding endgame ships.

i’m not here to like... really actually assert that i know what’ll be endgame, because i don’t really know jack shit. however, i do think that the writers are pretty invested in all of the current canon st ships (and yes, i am including jopper in that, as their romantic development was explicit in s3). i also think that the writers like catering to fans, leaning into popular jokes (steve “the hair” harrington) and devoting more and more time to the ships fans obsess over (particularly mileven). 

with this all in mind... i really think that most if not all of the current canon ships will be endgame. 

i think that barring any extreme circumstances (i.e. a character Actually dying instead of just fake dying) jopper will be endgame. they’re the only ones that the writers have had the restraint to actually do a slow burn with, and i really can’t see them devoting so much to developing their dynamic just to say it was all for nothing in the end. 

i’m less confident on the others. there are some signs in canon that the remaining couples have some serious problems and may not last, but these issues are often dismissed, played for comedy or brushed over within the text itself, and many of the details within the text contradicting this dismissal are often so small that it’s unclear whether they’re intentional or not. while breaking up mileven might make perfect sense for a fan who reads into subtext and pays attention to unusual acting choices and subtle parallels, it would be a pretty risky move on the surface level. allowing these ships to remain canon for awhile and garner large fanbases only to break them up later would require both a willingness to actively contradict the desires of their audience as well as a certain degree of restraint in their romantic storytelling, which runs counter to the impression i personally have of the st writers (this is, of course, my own personal opinion).

there’s a good chance that at least one of the current canon ships will break up by the end, if only because i think that it would be a little boring if every relationship stayed the same for almost the entirety of the show’s run, and the stranger writers like to keep things new and exciting. perhaps long distance will kill jancy or mileven, or lucas and max will go off again and never come back on, but either way i wouldn’t be surprised if we got a breakup in s4. even with that, though, i think it’s somewhat likely that a current couple may break up in s4 and get back together for the series finale, just for the sake of a little suspense. overall, though, i feel like our current canon ships are going to be more or less the same at the end of the show.

that’s about it. i suppose i didn’t really... answer the question you asked skdndsdkjc i feel like you probably just wanted to know like if i’m a byler endgame truther (which i am not but i could happily be proven wrong). thank you for asking, though! i hope this made at least a little bit of sense.

[mulletcal]

scrabble - ashton irwin blurb.

a/n: would you believe me if i told you i fucked up 4 different times trying to post this. WELL, anyways, here’s a pt 2 to this post and i still mildly blame @sexgodashton​ for it.

word count: ~2.2k (oops)

warnings: none

-----

Since that day where Ashton had realized that his Words with Friends stranger was also his neighbour, his mood surrounding this lockdown brightened significantly.  His niece was good at keeping his spirits up, but it was nice to have someone around that he could talk to as a fellow adult.

More often than not, you would show up with a baked good that you had googled how to make, dropping it off at Ashton’s doorstep before waiting at the end of the driveway to make sure either him or his niece picked it up.  Ashton would return the favour in his own small ways, letting you know what they were cooking that night, asking if he should make extras.  You both had taken to putting lawn chairs at the end of your driveways, maintaining the appropriate distance, but balancing your plates on your laps as you all enjoyed a meal together.

Getting to know Ashton, it grew increasingly difficult to push down your feelings for him.  He was intelligent, handsome, goofy, and he clearly cared for his niece, which also warmed your heart.  Even though anytime Ashton would say something, she’d give him a certain look that had him turning as red as a tomato; which didn’t help you find him any less endearing.

Your Words with Friends games continued, you kicking his ass each and every time - well, except for the one time you let him win, even if he vehemently denies that.  You had suggested that when the lockdown was lifted, he should come over some time and play a game of Scrabble with you, to see if somehow being in person made it any different.  It could be to his benefit, of course, because being that close to those hazel eyes would distract you.

On Ashton’s end, the feelings were very much the same.  He couldn’t stop thinking of you, and how he wished to be closer.  Ashton had never started a friendship, let alone a relationship where he wasn’t able to touch the person he was talking to - whether it be a handshake or a hug.  The most he could do was crack jokes from more than 6 feet away, grinning as you rolled your eyes at another stupid pun.

Ashton realized he had run out of fresh produce once again, but this time before placing his order he sent you a message to ask if you needed anything.  If only you could write back asking if he was something that was available - but you had nowhere near enough confidence for that, so you just replied that you didn’t, but thanking him.  Ashton wanted to use it as an excuse to see you more than just around dinner, but he could never let you know that.

A few weeks later, you heard on the news that the lockdown - as long as everything continued on the decline it had been on - would end next week, with some limitations so people aren’t going too wild too soon; but this meant something huge: you could actually be closer to Ashton.

Figuring a call would be more satisfying than a text, you pressed ‘Call’, vaguely thinking about when you both first exchanged numbers in the first place.  He had forgotten to look at the app all day, busy with Instagram Live interviews, but he felt so guilty and insisted you exchange numbers so you could keep the casual conversation going.

“You there?”  Ashton asked, bringing you out of your memory.

“Shit, sorry! Was just calling to tell you that it looks like our Scrabble game is gonna be happening sooner rather than later,” You speak with a grin that’s probably evident in your tone of voice on the other line.

“Wait really? I haven’t checked the news at all today.  I’m assuming none of the guys have either, we have a music video going up in about ten minutes.”

Oh, right.  You had forgotten he was in a band, his constant drum playing wasn’t just to make noise - he actually did it for a living. “Which music video is it again?” You ask, trying to think of the title before he could speak. 

“Wildflower.  You gonna watch it?” 

“Yeah, of course! I need to support the boomer uncle in the band,” You could hear him scoff on the other end, causing you to let out a small laugh.

“Yeah, I see how it is. Just cause I play the internet’s version of Scrabble makes me a boomer.  Puts you right there with me, though,” He stated, and it wasn’t a lie, but you enjoyed making fun of his age anyways. “I’ll see you later though, the guys wanna have a group FaceTime to watch the video together.  Makin’ pasta tonight, want some?”

“Not tonight, I’m all pasta’d out.  But I’ll meet you guys there, just text me when you start dinner, yeah?”

“Sounds good. Bye!” You could hear an enthusiastic ‘bye’ in the background that made you smile, setting down your phone and looking up ‘Wildflower’ so you could be apart of the video’s premier.

You were most definitely not expecting what you saw while the video played - Ashton had told you, from what you remembered anyways, that they had filmed all their parts separately in front of a green screen in their house.  You didn’t know that you would get so much of Ashton’s personality through the video though, and you couldn’t wipe the grin off your lips the entire time.

Once the video ended, you picked up your phone to send him a quick text message to say you enjoyed the video, and it didn’t take long for him to reply with his gratitude towards you.

Dinner that night had a different air to it, you couldn’t tell if you were all just excited to not be stuck in the house anymore, or sad - or, in your case, if you were flustered because Ashton was wearing the same shirt he had chosen to wear in the video.

This week was going to go by incredibly slow.

**

As you predicted, the days leading up to the lockdown being lifted dragged on - every hour feeling like another day, but you were aware that it was mostly due to freedom, or your feeling of freedom, was so close.

Ashton knew that the guys would all want to see each other right away, and he had agreed on that front - FaceTime calls just weren’t doing it for him anymore.  He was so close to being able to hang out in Calum’s backyard again, laying in the sun and making jokes with his best friend.  All of them had agreed on one thing though - rather than all get together on their first day out where none of them really had much in their house; the first day would be spent gathering supplies for a “family dinner” on the second day.

This also meant that his first night was free.  Ashton knew he didn’t need to worry about his niece, especially since it was only right next door, and he would have the security system in place to be alerted of any suspicious activities.  He had to see you and deliver on the promised Scrabble game; and he needed to test the waters to see how you felt towards him as well.

When the fateful day came, Ashton was practically buzzing with excitement.  He headed to the grocery store, wanting to pick up essentials for the dish he would bring to Michael’s, but also he wanted to attempt to recreate the cookies you made for him as a welcoming gift - though he was sure his baking skills couldn’t hold a candle to yours.

Having gathered all the ingredients, he headed back home to try and bake.  Ashton was excited when you texted him, asking if you guys were still on for tonight.

[2:04 pm]: You bet your gluteus on it.

He could tell you were laughing on the other end, due to the amount of times the three dots had appeared and disappeared, when his phone finally vibrated in response.

[2:05 pm]: Stop trying to make gluteus happen, it’s not going to happen.  Also that’s only roughly 8 points, so nice try.

Ashton couldn’t contain his fit of giggles - his excitement bubbling out of him again, grinning at his niece who walked into the kitchen.

“Someone’s excited to see his crush today,” She mused, cocking an eyebrow at him.

“Not a crush, just excited to be within six feet of someone who I’m not related to,” Ashton retorted, both of them sticking their tongue out at the other.

“Tell me why I see ingredients to make those cookies, then?”

“Can’t a man just buy apples and cinnamon, and all the other ingredients to make cookies without being judged?” Ashton pouted in a feudal attempt to win this debate, but he knew it was pointless to argue with a 14-year-old.  “Wanna help? I’ll let you eat some cookie dough.”

Very quickly she agreed, and they set about making the cookies for you. 

While on your end, you were doing something similar for him; you had gone out to buy ingredients to make a cake, that you were going to decorate to say “Happy End of Lockdown”.  You weren’t sure if you were taking it too far, but you were genuinely excited to see his reaction when he read it.

You had just finished the final touches on the cake when the doorbell rang.  Furrowing your brows, you glanced at the time, realizing much more time had passed than you had thought.  Suddenly you were nervous again, not having time to fix your appearance, or fix up around your house for that matter.  Your phone on the kitchen island buzzed, and you quickly picked it up to make sure it wasn’t anything super important - only to find a text from Ashton.

[7:56 pm]: Can you hurry up? We’re free, and I promise I won’t spit on you.

If it were any other person in your life, you would have replied with something along the lines of, “Too bad, I’m kinda into that.” But you couldn’t be that way with Ashton - you felt as though you needed to restrict that part, or risk losing Ashton in your life all together because you weirded him out.

Tugging the door open, you mustered up the best grin you could at the man who now stood before you, “Hey stranger,” you spoke, stepping aside so he could come in.

“Hey yourself.  Even though you left me out in the dust, I brought these cookies for you, in hopes you won’t do it again.”  Ashton offered up the plate of cookies, and you recognized the scent that had wafted from them almost immediately. 

“You made those cookies?” You asked softly, your heart completely melting at the sentiment. Glancing up at him, you noticed he was watching you, your eyes meeting his hazel ones, so you cleared your throat.  “You gonna come in, or you gonna wait to be invited in like the boomer you are?” You left him there, mouth hanging open at your words as you brought the cookies into the kitchen.

“For the last time, m’not a fuckin’ boomer.  I was born in ‘94!”

Spinning back around, you nearly collided with his chest, rather instead backing up to pat it while looking up at him, “Okay Boomer.”

After that moment, your nerves disappeared completely.  Flour was in your hair, but the two of you didn’t care; much preferring to laugh over your cups of tea and the treats you had both made.

When it came time to play Scrabble, you were excited to see how he’d live up to his online persona from Words with Friends, or if instead he’d just mutter curse words when you put down a word that was worth triple.  It was fairly easy to stay focused, your eyes trained on the letters before you, instead of the raven haired man whose eyes were boring into the side of your head after each word he put down.

You hadn’t realized why until you looked up from your tiles to the board, trying to place your next word to finally beat him.  There was a word spelt out at the top of the board, one that hadn’t been there previously - the word was ‘date’, but beside it there was a small piece of paper with a question mark on it, and in the corner where the letter value would be was drawn the tiniest heart you’d ever seen.

“Did you make that heart yourself?” You asked, a grin spreading across your lips, finally looking up at the man.

There was a long pause before he whispered, “Yes,” almost sheepishly, his cheeks turning pink.

“You wanna go on a date with me?”

The response was quicker this time, a more confident, “Yes.”

Looking from him to the tiles, you reached across to grab the letters to spell ‘Kiss Me’, stealing his question mark to add to the end of it.

Ashton read it, looking back towards you with a smirk, “You know that’s cheating right?”

“Are you gonna kiss me or not?”

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