#<- indicative of something greater going on here.

[caffeinated-binturong]

And They Were Roommates

??? X Reader (Ran, Sevika, Ranvika, none)

Synopsis: You're at the end of your rope when it comes to dealing with your roommate, Sevika, and it takes a crisis and someone uninvolved to see just how far things have broken down and you're both at fault for it. Genre: Fluff, light angst, multiple endings POV: Second Warnings: None Word Count: 2.7k for first half; 1k-1.8k for second; 7.9k for all

A/N: Changing up the formatting a bit for this one. Couldn't decide what ending I liked more and had an idea for each so I wrote all of them so it's viewer's reader's choice—read one or all. Each varies and has tidbits to give greater context to everything and may allude to something in a different ending but they serve as a self-contained story so you aren't required to read everything.

—

As far as it went with roommates, Sevika was a mixed bag. She was prompt about paying her share of the rent and wasn't around much so it was like you had a more space than you could have gotten by yourself, the downside being her odd hours and acting as a live-in nurse.

Technically you didn't need the room as you had taken over, but more was better as far as you were concerned. It wasn't just about moving your desk and supplies out of your bedroom, it was having room to expand your personal book collection without having pare it down in equal measure.

All it would take is a mention of something you found interesting—and in your line of work, that happened regularly—and you'd see if you could find a book on the subject that went into more detail. Even if your interests changed, you balked at the idea of getting rid of any of them.

More and more you found yourself thinking about it, though.

"Welcome back," you drawl when you hear the front door open and close. You're busy working your way through someone's terrible handwriting, your desk scattered with open books and scrap paper where you tried deciphering the notes—the other person who lived here showing up wasn't unusual enough to stop.

"Anyone been by?" Sevika asks, breathing harder as if she had rushed home.

"For you? No," you reply after half-listening.

"And you?"

"Also no." Since when did she care about that?

"Good."

"Something going on?" you ask, clearly annoyed. If she had done something that would bring enforcers to your door again...

"There's a push against Silco," Sevika replies as if that answers everything. After she heads into her room, you give your work a final look before sighing and turning around.

"It happens," you say, raising your voice to still be heard. "Don't see you acting like this every time it does." It seemed everyone was jostling for a better position in Zaun, though usually they had enough sense to not aim so high.

"Because those other times weren't so direct and didn't coincide with a major deal falling through," she calls back.

"Still doesn't explain why you're so agitated." You're waiting for her to explain how this in any way affected you but you hadn't heard anything so far that indicates it would.

"It's my job to try to salvage that deal. I have to catch a ship and am running late."

"So? Deals fall through."

"The point is," she calls, "is I'm not going to be around until that's done and the people going up against Silco are known for taking out hits on people to intimidate their actual target"

You let out a bark of laughter. "Pretty sure I can take care of myself."

"I know you can. Most of the time," says Sevika as she re-emerges with a hastily packed duffel bag slung over her shoulder. "Just maybe not with these people."

"So you painted a target on my back and are bouncing," you summarize, crossing your arms. "Thanks for that." This was decidedly worse than enforcers—you left that line of work in part to get away from this sort of thing.

"Not by choice."

"So, what am I supposed to do in the meantime?" you scowl. "Just hide in here until you get back? Because I have shit I can't put on hold and I shouldn't have to for something you did."

"Didn't say that," Sevika says tightly. "Just be careful and not alone. Ran'll check in on you."

"You hired a babysitter for me?!" The audacity of it! She was acting as if you hadn't survived the same streets she had—just because you weren't chummy with a chem-baron didn't mean you were helpless.

"Who else would you have picked? Gustove? Oni? Maintaire?" Sevika demands, your antagonism and the time pressure getting to her. "Because it has to be someone."

"Thanks to you," you mutter. There was only so far you could push Sevika and you don't want to find out what happens if you cross that line. You weren't going to win this but you didn't have to roll over so easily. "If I must have a nanny, I'd rather it be someone like Mia."

"Who the hell is Mia?"

"A friend."

"Can they handle assassins?"

The topic never came up and it wasn't something you asked about. "... I don't think so," you reluctantly admit.

"So, Ran?" Sevika hovers pointedly near the door.

"Fiiine." If she had just asked, you might have decided that yourself and this whole thing could have been avoided. If time really was an issue, you understood why it didn't happen, but you'd have appreciated it if she talked to you like an an equal and come up with a plan together.

Instead she was being so patronizing over something you had no part in.

"Make sure to keep everything locked and the blinds drawn," Sevika reminds you as she slips out.

Did she really think you were so daft? You'd been locking the door since you could remember.

Despite appearances, though, you're rattled—you haven't seen Sevika act like that before and she'd been living with you a while. It must be more serious than she was letting on.

Once Sevika's gone and you don't think she's coming back, you make the rounds ensuring everything is properly locked and latched—just because you could put up a fight didn't mean you wanted one. When you finally make it back to your desk, it's not to finish your work, it's to check that your pistol is still in the drawer you left it in.

A knock at the door makes you jerk awake, confused over where you are and what happened. You're at your desk but you don't remember falling asleep though your back says you've been there a while. From what you do remember, you had finally hit your stride and even made coffee so you wouldn't have to stop.

A second more insistent set of knocks reminds you someone's waiting on you so you start to put the gun away—when did you take it out?—but recall Sevika's warning. Taking the pistol instead, you crack the door.

"Can I help you?" You're brusque as you blink yourself awake.

"Are you always this cheery in the morning?" replies Ran. You didn't really know them but you'd seen them around enough to know them on sight. This wasn't a complete stranger so you relax.

You suppress a yawn as you let them in. "Here to check up on me?"

"Yup." Ran looks around the place before seeing the gun you're absently holding by your thigh. "Gonna shoot me?"

"Oh. No." You forgot you were holding it and quickly put it down after locking the door. "What time is it?"

"Mid-morning. Long night?"

"Something like that," you mutter as you put the kettle on. "Well you're here, you've seen I'm safe. Job done. You can go now."

"You really aren't a morning person, are you?"

You sigh. "Look, I'm sure you're nice but I already told Sevika I don't need a babysitter. You can move on with your day.

"I agree, you seem capable enough." Their eyes flick to your gun. "Think of me as a personal bodyguard instead."

"... That doesn't really help."

"But it does help, right?" they grin. You look at them trying to decide if this was a ploy of some sort or not before giving up—you weren't awake enough to deal with someone so cheerful even if it was an act.

Maybe you should have insisted harder on someone else after all.

While Ran makes themself comfortable on the couch, showing no intention of leaving, you loiter in the kitchen avoiding them and slowly working the knots out of your back and shoulders. You were only willing to be so rude and Sevika was the one to be blamed for all this—Ran was an innocent party as far as you knew.

"Coffee?" you ask with a heavy sigh after the kettle boils.

"Sure."

"If you're sticking around, you won't have much to do," you say as you scoop out enough grounds for a second person. "I'll be busy with work."

"That's fine, I've been meaning to get some reading done."

It would have been easier if you were playing up how much work you had to do, but after handing your unwanted visitor a mug and replacing your cold one with the new one, you scan the scattered pages and feel your lips press tighter and tighter together.

Everything was a mess and apparently you tried to work on it last night but your scribbles were worse than the writing you were supposed to be copying. It was a miracle you hadn't spilled something.

Frowning, you settle in and get to work.

Despite your initial apprehension over having someone else around and your annoyance at why that was, you quickly come around to Ran and don't mind them as much as you thought you would. You thought they'd be overbearing and oppressive like Sevika could be but that wasn't the case—you even forgot they were there at times because of how little of your attention they demanded.

It didn't hurt that they would pick things up for you on the way over or make lunch after seeing your eating habits, or lack thereof either.

The ultimate sign you'd warmed up to them was when you dug out your copy of a book about blacksmithing all the way from Krexor after a comment they made. The book was old but it was a lucky find, one you didn't think you'd make again.

Some books you had no issue lending out but others, the ones you thought rare or prized, stayed in your possession unless you truly liked someone.

Over the days, strangers became acquaintances which became friends and silence had evolved into actual talking. You certainly wouldn't tell Sevika this, but she could have done a worse job in picking someone to watch you day in and day out. So when Ran winces one morning, you don't have to pretend to be concerned.

"The hell happened? You okay?"

"It's nothing," they say. "Someone was a sore loser is all."

"Let me see." Your voice is hard—you were used to having to fight Sevika over this and she always downplayed her injuries. Ran's the opposite and obediently untucks their shirt to show you the bandage already on their side. "Is that all?" you push.

"Yup." You search their face to see if they might be lying before concluding that they weren't. Or they were better at hiding injuries than Sevika was.

"Good. I thought I'd have to crack open the first aid kit again," you sigh as you sink to couch beside Ran.

"Didn't know paper cuts required a whole kit," they tease as they put their clothing back in order.

"Ha ha," you say with anything but mirth. "It's not for me, Sevika just has a habit of showing up injured and if she tries to patch herself up, there's a lot more cursing and wasted supplies. Easier if I do it."

"Not the easiest patient, is she?"

"Try living with her," you grumble. "I've lost track of how many times I've woken up to bloodstains that weren't there when I went to bed. On the bright side, my sewing skills have never been better."

"At least you have the place to yourself most of the time," Ran says.

"Sure, I guess," you exhale. "But she assumes I'll always be around and will drop everything the moment she waltzes in. Or it's something like this where her work follows her home and it's on me to deal with it. I don't know if it's worth the headache anymore."

Ran furrows their brow. "Why do think she does that?"

"Because she's an inconsiderate ass."

"I'm serious."

"So am I."

This is the first time you've seen Ran approaching anger as they stare at you with a dark eye. "It's because she trusts you."

You laugh at the obvious joke. "Sure, to not stab her in her sleep."

"Do you think she'd live with just anyone?" Ran asks without joining in.

"How should I know?" you scoff, getting uncomfortable with how serious Ran was being. "We've never talked about it and it's not like she's around much. I know you better and she's the one I live with."

Ran leans against the armrest and looks you hard in the eye. "Take it from me, she wouldn't be this stressed or taken on so much extra work for just anybody."

That catches your attention. "What do you mean 'extra work'?"

"Well, you probably deserve to know," Ran sighs after judging how much to say. "I was supposed to join her on this little trip, as you've called it, but she somehow convinced Silco she could manage it all on her own. Told me to watch out for you after that meeting finished."

"... That bitch!" you spit, startling Ran. "She made a big deal about how I had had a choice, the whole time she'd already set things up with you. It would have been better if she just said that instead of pretending I had any say in the matter."

"She didn't give me much of a say about it, either," Ran reminds you.

You're fuming now and only half-hear Ran. "See what I mean? She's impossible! Does what she wants without any consideration to how it affects others."

"So why'd you move in with her?"

"What? She moved in with me," you turn to glare at Ran but your anger starts to falter. "Or we moved in at the same time? In any case, I had an idea of what she was like before but I didn't know living with her would be like this."

"Like what?"

"For one, deciding things for me," you huff. "I managed just fine without her. I knew what she was like—I'd heard the rumours—but none of them mentioned that. If I knew, I'm not sure I would have agreed to this."

You'd been thinking about this for a while now but it's the first time you'd said it out loud. You've complained about her, of course, but never outright said you were doubting just how sustainable this living situation was.

"Have you told her this?" Ran's voice is softer, sympathetic.

You try to summon your usual ire but it comes out flat. "When would I have? It's not exactly something that can be hashed out in a few seconds. Even if she is home, someone's either too wasted or tired for it."

"You should," says Ran. They were entirely too invested in whatever they thought was going on but that didn't mean they were wrong. If you were to move out, you'd need to bring it up anyway.

"Maybe." You rub your neck, shifting to lean forward with elbows on knees. "She ever tell you we met before? Before moving in together, I mean."

Ran struggles to keep a straight face with how you were sitting—it took away from your grousing about Sevika when you were sitting like her. "Nope."

"Figures. Though she probably doesn't remember." That was a point you were willing to concede. "It was after Vander died but before things calmed down so there was a lot going on—you probably already know better than me. Anyway, Silco wanted copies of some documents and I guess your regular person was busy or something so I ended up with the job."

"Thought you didn't like getting involved," Ran says without judgement.

"I don't but I needed the cash," you give a rueful smile. You could be pickier now, but times were harder back then. "Sevika served as contact and handler since your boss was occupied with other things. Locked me in a room and told me to be finished before she got back or I'd have to look into a different career."

"And you thought it was a good idea to move in with her after that?" Ran gives you an incredulous look.

"Seemed like a good idea at the time," you shrug.

—

[Sevika] Word Count: 1.2k [Ran] Word Count: 1.2k [Ranvika] Word Count: 1.8k [Platonic] Word Count: 1k

[lymtw]

Talk To Me

"Come here," Toji says, at the sight of the involuntary pout that works wonders to express your internal, dispirited mood. His attention is divided very unevenly between you and the movie playing on the TV, you holding the greater part of his focus. He's watching you for his own peace of mind, hoping that every time you take a break from the movie, to check your phone, you'll spare him a look. You've been quieter than he knows you to be, and you're not sitting even remotely close to him. He's on one side of the couch and you're on the other side.

A few seconds pass since Toji spoke up, and he wonders if you even heard him in the first place, because you didn't respond. He passes on repeating himself when you shift your eyes from the TV to meet his gaze, and though your gloominess isn't because of him, you can't offer him any sort of indication that you're good.

"Sorry, i'm not in the mood to take my clothes off, Toji," you say, your voice a gentle, pitiful excuse for sound. If your voice could be seen, it would be similar to the tragic way that grass blades slowly try to stand up, after being stepped on. If the sound of your voice could be felt, it would be the void-like, almost nauseating feeling in your stomach, that comes with ignored hunger. You sound detached from the bright person Toji knows, and clearly, you're not okay.

"I'm not asking you to undress yourself. I want you to come to me," Toji responds. "You're sitting so far over there, away from me, like I did something to you. For being the most reasonable person I know, this isn't fair, at all." His eyes stay on you as he awaits your response, but he is only met with the sight of you looking down at your hands.

"Be fair. You didn't help me get better at communicating, just to turn the tables on me like this." His tone is sharper, out of urgency. He wants to know what he can do for you, but it's hard to do that when you're there, yet, not there. "Just... come here, ma," Toji tries again, his voice a little softer and understanding. "Please. Let's talk about anything." He pats his thigh, directing you to one of the reserved spots he holds for intimate conversations with you.

You know Toji's stubbornness will not leave you alone. It's impossible to hide anything from him once he's onto you, so you stop prolonging the inevitable and silently do as he says.

You turn off the TV, before walking over to him and settling on his lap. You sit there, with a racing heart, because Toji's attention feels like a spotlight on you. His hands interlock at the small of your back and rest there, as he waits for you to say something. Silence invades the moment while you figure out where to start.

"What's wrong?" He asks, when there is no attempt to speak made by you. Immediately, your throat begins to ache, and your eyes start to sting. It's a question known for breaking people, and you're on the brink of becoming another victim. You think you can widen your eyes to keep them dry or blink away the tears, but the outcome doesn't favor you. Toji's hands shift so that they're splayed out on your lower back. They move up and down in soothing motions, as if he's trying to coax your strong emotions out with the comforting gesture. Like a gloomy sky finally giving in to rain, you cave in to vulnerability.

"Baby?" Toji calls, watching as sadness takes over your features. He sighs as he pulls your twinkly-eyed self into his tight embrace. He hates when you cry. The sound and the sight is the equivalent of pouring acid on his heart. It's torture for him to see that his baby, his sweetheart, his love, has been reduced to streams of tears, but he knows that getting it all out is for your own good. This is the 'alcohol in the wound' part of the process. You don't want to do it, but you'll feel better, afterwards. Just like a real physical wound, Toji will make you get it done. Scream if you must, curl into him like you are trying to go through him, he's not going to abandon you.

"Just breathe, sweet girl," he instructs, when he hears the heart wrenching sound of your stuttered breaths. "Breathe. Give me a good one," he says, rubbing your upper back. You inhale, the act still heavily stuttered, before you exhale. "Good. Again." You repeat the process and get the same trembling breath as a result.

"Fuck," you choke out. Your head feels like it's pulsing, your abdomen burns, your chest feels heavy, as if you have chains tightly wrapped around your torso, and your throat aches. It's all so overwhelming, you feel like there's a disastrous storm ruining you from within.

"Sweetheart, please breathe. You're gonna turn blue any minute now." Toji can't hold you any tighter without crushing you, but he wants to, so badly. This is the lowest he's ever seen you and it's killing him. He has never made you this upset. It's hell to even imagine what you must have endured to get to this point.

"You're safe. I have you," he says, bringing a hand up to cradle the back of your head. "I'm here, baby."

Toji's shoulder is damp from your waterfalls of tears and he can feel an excessive amount of heat radiating from your trembling body. Your crying ceases and all that can be heard are sharp, short inhales and puffs of air, as you try to regulate your breathing. Toji continues running his hands over your back, soothing the tired, tense muscles of your shoulder blades.

"We are gonna have to talk about this later, doll. I know that might not sound like the most fun thing to do, but it'll make you feel better. I want you to feel better."

Toji is mindful of your silence. He knows your voice isn't in the best condition to speak after your surge of emotions, and you're probably exhausted, but this isn't a dead end for him. He'll figure out your needs, and he'll take care of you. Anything to bring your happy, smiling face, back.

Toji allows you to pull away from his shoulder, and instantly takes in the sight of your pretty, ruined face. You don't look at him, and he assumes that your appearance is to blame. Your eyes, they're red and puffy, glimmering in the light with your now contained feelings, and you're still sniffing like you need to blow your nose. It's terrible to see you this way, but he would withstand much more than this, if you needed it.

"How does a bath sound, for now? A bath and then some food? You hungry, mama?" He asks, his expression involuntarily soft, as he runs the pads of his thumbs beneath your eyes, attempting to clean you up a little.

"No," you say, quietly, with the fragility that remains of your voice.

"I'm gonna pick up some food while you relax." Toji almost laughs at the subtle roll of your eyes. "That's my bad. I shouldn't have asked in the first place. You need to eat something."

He doesn't want to put you through any more stress, but when he needs to take care of you, during times like this, he knows what you need more than you do. Your reasoning is clouded by your emotions, and you'll let go of yourself, because your thoughts rewind over and over to what's plaguing your mind. Toji knows you'll be glad he did this for you when you feel better.

"Let's get that bath ready," he says, securing your legs around his waist, before he stands up from the couch. Your face is buried in the crook of his neck, and you breathe in his scent, until you reach the bathroom.

Toji flicks the light on and sets you down on the counter. A chaste kiss is pressed to your tearstained cheek, before he lets you go so he can prepare your bath. You turn your head to look at yourself in the mirror and hate the messy sight before you—the product of your meltdown. You turn on the cold water and splash some on your face, hoping to decrease the puffiness of your eyes, even just a little bit, while Toji is busy. You dry your face afterwards and check your appearance in the mirror, again, to clean up any remaining gunk in your eyes.

When you finish, you turn back, just in time to watch Toji rise from his knelt position by the bathtub. He makes his way back to you and stands between your legs, offering you a contemplative look, and a "hm" to go along with it. No words are exchanged when his hand reaches out to gently cup your jaw, allowing him to turn your head in any way he wants. He leans forward to examine you more closely, to check if anything is "broken". He can see you pressing your lips together, trying not to laugh, as he continues to snoop around.

"Oh," he says, like he found a cable that has simply been disconnected. He turns your head a little, and keeps inspecting the problematic area, building up the suspense for you. You couldn't say it, but him finding something scared you a little, considering you had just looked at your reflection and didn't see anything.

"Don't move, doll. I'll get it." His hand rests on your shoulder, the other on your thigh, as he leans in closer and closer, until his body heat coils around you. He presses a kiss to the side of your neck. It's featherlight, almost like a gentle breeze. Another one lands on the same area, then another, and another, until he hears your little laugh, a sound that brought both of you mutual relief. Your relief came from understanding that Toji didn't actually find anything off, while Toji's came from the miracle of him being able to make you laugh, after what went down not that long ago.

"Two seconds, ma," he says, beneath your ear. He pulls away from you and goes back to the now foam covered, sweet smelling bathtub. He leans down to turn the faucet off, and returns to you, afterwards.

"It's all ready for you," he says. A smile curls on his lips when you raise your arms, signaling for him to pull your shirt off. "You wanna keep your bra and underwear on?" He asks, as he pulls the hem of your shirt up. You nod, just before the material goes over your head. He sets it aside and helps you down, off the counter, so you can take your sweatpants off. You pull your phone out of your pocket and set it on the counter. Your fingers hook into the waistband of your sweatpants and tug downwards, until they just slide down your legs and allow you to step out of them.

Toji watches you carefully step over the edge of the tub, one foot sinking through the foam and into the warm water, followed by your other foot. You crouch down, slowly, until you are able to sit down and eventually lay back. You close your eyes once you're in a comfortable position and just let the warm water and the pretty smell work its magic on you.

Toji kneels beside you, and observes you in a more serious manner than before. His gaze lingers on those tired eyes of yours, for longer than any of your other facial features. Your eyelids are still swollen and the bags beneath your eyes are prominent. The longer he stares, the more he thinks back to how you were so distressed, to the point where you forgot how to breathe for a few seconds. It scared him. He didn't get a single word about what was wrong, from you. You couldn't say anything other than that single curse, but even then, you sounded like you were being strangled by your own emotions.

Toji knows this is only a temporary fix— this calm sight of you resting in a bubble bath. Your feelings won't be swept under the rug, because he knows that if it were him going through this exact situation, you wouldn't just give him a hug and call it a day. No, when you take care of his mind and heart, you hold him in your arms and don't let go until he's the one trying to cage himself in your embrace when your arms loosen around him. You keep your voice at an intimate volume as you tell him about your day, because sometimes he isn't immediately ready to talk about what is bothering him, but he still wants to hear you. You cook for him, you give his tired body massages, you shower him with love and affection, and when he's finally ready to tell you what's going on, you listen closely to everything he has to say and you offer him your utmost support. You love and protect him to no end, and he has become shamelessly clingy towards you, because of it.

He wants you to feel as loved as he does. He wants you to know what it's like to experience the same level of care you give him. He may not be able to replicate it to a T, but he's willing to try for you.

"Hey," Toji calls, tenderly running the knuckle of his index finger back and forth, over your cheek. You hum, and blink open your eyes, giving him your attention. "I'm gonna go get us some food. Stay on the phone with me and keep me company until I get back, yeah?"

You nod. "Yeah, okay. Can you bring me my phone, please?"

Toji gets back on his feet and takes one large step towards the counter, retrieving your phone, before taking that same step back to leave it next to you, on the edge of the bathtub.

"Be right back, doll. Pick up the phone as soon as I call, okay?"

"Okay."

His hands grip the edge of the bathtub, to prevent him from falling in, as he leans in to peck your cheek once more. His weight shifts onto one arm so he can bring a hand to your face and rub the kiss into your skin with his thumb.

"Love you, ma."

"Love you, too."

With that, Toji stands up straight and heads towards the door. He takes one last look at your pretty face, before exiting the bathroom and closing the door behind him. He grabs his phone from the couch, his keys from the hook on the wall, and messily slides his shoes on, not bothering to put them on correctly, since he won't be getting out of the car, anyways. He secures the inside of the house, before heading out, and once he's outside, he finds his house key and locks the door. He fishes his phone out of his pocket and makes haste of clicking the phone icon, and then your contact, as he keeps walking to the car. His phone is now against his ear, and he listens as the line rings once... twice...

"Hi, Toji."

"Hi, baby."

[allisluv]

aaahh yay for a new charger!! Hmmm ok if it tickles your fancy, can I request a Finnick x reader fic post-rebellion where she’s feeling perhaps a touch soft, maybe not even realizing it (like just a heavy/triggering day where she’s feeling anxious) and Finnick knows, doesn’t comment on it, just hovers/takes over stuff for her to lessen her load? (Sorry if it doesn’t make sense - I got excited & wanted to send something in hahaha)

farmers market.

pairing: finnick o'dair x shy!wifey

content warnings: reader is having a rough go of it, use of petnames, pre-established relationship, set post-rebellion, finnick is so soft and sweet it's giving me a tooth ache (/pos), teasing, banter, fluff with a sprinkle of angst, not edited.

word count: 2k

author's note: elle, i hope you don't mind me writing this one for finnick x shy!wifey! i hadn't intended to originally but i started writing and i was like this is so them coded for me not to, you know? so, without further ado... here's my first finnick x shy!wifey oneshot. requests for them are open!! please do note that this can be read as a finn x reader insert too if you prefer that!! also this is my first time writing in a hot minute so please be kind. reblogs and comments are appreciated <3

Bad days tend to creep up on you like the calm before the storm, and without really knowing why, you welcome those days back like an old friend.

Its strange, when you think about it; you would think that the promise of a life without a constant war would feel reassuring but in reality, all it does is instil you with greater fear, and that is saying something.

In no way shape or form are you saying that you would have preferred to live under Snow's rule-- even less under Coin. You're simply saying that it feels terrifying to have this glorious taste of freedom, when in the back of your mind, there's a voice that reminds you it could all be taken away from you in a matter of seconds.

Finnick can tell something is weighing heavily on your mind when you toss and turn in bed all night. He combs his fingers through your hair, and presses soft kisses to your forehead, but no amount of comfort is able to soothe those reeling thoughts.

Eventually, you manage to doze off with Finnick's arms wrapped tight around you. Still, your sleep is broken and even then, you cant escape your anxiety.

Finnick watches over you as you rest. When a crease forms between your brows, an indicator that your dreams are not being kind to your weary soul, he uses his thumb to smooth it out. When a pitiful whine slips past your parted lips, he holds you closer and mutters words of reassurance into your hairline.

It's nearing noon when you finally start to stir. Finnick's arm had gone dead long before now, but he figures the pins and needles that shoot through his arm are well worth it if he has you in his arms like this. He watches as your eyes lazily flutter open and you absentmindedly sink deeper into his embrace. "Hi," He whispers into the silence. You wipe your eyes and mumble something incoherent. He smiles. "Welcome back to the land of the living."

You hum sleepily as you nuzzle your cheek against his bare chest. He is warm and soft and he smells like home. You can't help noticing the absent scent of saltwater and a frown tugs at the corner of your lips. "You didn't go swimming?"

Finnick wraps his ankle with yours under the duvet. "Didn't want to."

Your frown deepens and even in your half-asleep state you know he's lying, so naturally, you call him out on it. "I call bullshit." You try to sit up straighter but he eases you back down onto his chest with a quiet hum. "Why didn't you go? You always go swimming in the morning."

He kisses your forehead. "Maybe I just wanted to stay here with you." His fingers trace a path up your back. He normally does go swimming every morning; it's somewhat of a ritual for him. But he doesn't want to leave you when he knows you're having a rough go of it, especially when you're almost as stubborn as him and won't ask for his help. "Is that okay with you?" He teases.

You fight the urge to roll your eyes, but his hands are gentle and soft on your body, and it eases some of the pent up tension in your frame. "Hmph. I suppose so." It's meant to be a joke, but your voice falls flat.

He doesn't seem to mind. He knows you're bound to be snippy or sad or on edge or all of the above. Hes had his own fair share of triggering days since the war ended and he's been the exact same. He just gives a quiet hum so you know he isn't ignoring you, and then he allows the silence to settle.

There's still a pit of unease in your stomach, but it's lessened slightly by his presence. "What time is it?" You ask after a while.

Finnick cranes his neck to one side to check the alarm clock on the bedside locker. "One."

You swear you give yourself whiplash as you shoot up and he grunts softly at the loss of contact. "In the afternoon?"

"No, in the morning. See the stars outside?" Finnick deadpans, trying to lighten the mood. You shoot him a withering look, and he grins and sits up now, too. "Its alright, angel. We're allowed to have a lie in every now and then." He soothes, pressing a soft kiss to your bare shoulder blade.

"We've got to go grocery shopping today," You argue, but it's a weak protest, even to your own ears.

"And we've got plenty of time," He responds patiently, smoothing his hand up and down your back once more. "It's a Sunday. The market doesn't close until seven. Just relax, my love. It's all okay." He knows you need to keep yourself busy on days like this; it's a way to remind yourself that you're controlling something.

He shifts onto his knees, the bedframe creaking underneath him, and wraps his arms around your midsection. "It's all okay." He promises. A kiss to your shoulder again. "We can get changed and leave right now if you want to, alright?"

You melt into his touch before giving a stiff nod. Maybe if you're out of the house, it'll ease your worries a bit, or at the very least distract you. Your eyes flutter shut as he presses a kiss to your neck this time around. "Okay."

"Yeah? That sound like a plan?"

You nod, more relaxed this time. "Yeah."

Finnick gets changed in a matter of minutes, and is ever so patient as he waits for you. He watches you flit between your wardrobe three or four times, choosing an outfit and changing your mind once you go to put it on,

"I'm sorry," You say quietly on your fifth time around. Your deft fingers anxiously toy with the hem of your sleep shirt as you sift through the contents of your wardrobe.

He's perched on the edge of the bed, and he offers you a gentle smile as he sees your fingers move to your mouth. You gnaw on a hangnail, and he pushes down the urge to lovingly scold you. "It's okay. Take all the time you need, angel. I'm in no rush."

Once you're finally dressed and out of the door, Finnick can't help but notice the way your eyes dart around nervously. He knows that you're no doubt feeling more wary, and he wants nothing more than to help soothe your heightened emotions. "So, angel, I was thinking." He slips his hand into yours as you move. He doesn't seem to mind how damp your palm is.

"Hm?" Your head whips around to see him. "Sorry?"

"I was thinking." He repeats patiently, matching your pace. He knows that you need a distraction right now and he Is more than eager to be of assistance. "There's this lovely cove off the coast. Malcom-- you'd know him, he's the coast guard-- was telling me about it. It's about an hour or two from here by boat. It's meant to be gorgeous out there. I was thinking we could go snorkelling there one day, if you'd like."

"I've never been snorkelling," You remind him softly.

He squeezes your hand. "I know. I could teach you." He offers. "We'd be able to make it a day trip. We could bring a picnic for the boat and we could sail for a while before getting to the cove." He presses a kiss to your cheek. "What do you think?"

The weight in your chest is shifting now that you're not tangled up in your thoughts. You can breathe a bit easier. "Yeah." You nod. "It could be fun. When were you thinking?"

Finnick hums in thought. "Maybe the day after tomorrow? If you're up for it. We can always do it later, I'm easy." He shrugs.

You nod. "Sounds like a plan."

The market is practically empty when you two arrive. Finnick insists on carrying the wicker basket you brought with you, and he follows your lead as you drift between stalls.

On your way out of the market, he tugs you toward a jewellery stall. Without even giving you time to ask what he's doing, he holds up a necklace, testing it against your complexion, before turning to the seller. "I'll take this one please."

You arch an eyebrow and give his hand a tug. "What're you doing?"

"Buying you a necklace." He replies simply.

"Why?"

"Because I want to."

"You don't have to."

"I said I want to, not that I have to." He corrects you, pressing a kiss to your joined hands. He pays the vendor for the necklace and secures it in the basket before letting you lead him out of the gazebo.

It doesn't take long to get back home, even with your goods from the market weighing you down. Finnick flicks on the air-con once you are inside, and once he sees you moving to turn the stove on, he secures his arms around your waist and practically manhandles you all the way back to the sofa. "Nope. Not happening."

"What are you--"

"Youre gonna sit there and watch something or read or... I don't know, do whatever you want while I cook dinner." He grins as he lets go and you flop down on the sofa. You open your mouth to complain, but he simply kisses you quiet before pulling away and pecking your head. "I have it covered. Don't worry about it, okay? Just relax. It's fine. Relax."

You sigh, but admit defeat, anyway. "Alright. Just... don't burn the house down."

Finnick arches a brow. "Are you doubting my cooking abilities?"

"Yes."

"Says the one who nearly did burn the house down making toast on my birthday."

"That was one time! And I was doing something nice!"

Finnick laughs and pecks your forehead again before sauntering into the kitchen. He's glad you seem to be feeling a bit better. "I know. But it still happened." He calls over his shoulder.

It doesn't take long for you to follow him into the kitchen; you're a tad bit clingy when you're feeling anxious like this. He doesn't make any remarks on it; he simply taps the countertop beside him in invitation and goes back to stirring a pot of sauce.

You swing your legs back and forth before finally finding your voice. "Finn."

He glances up from the pot. "Yeah, baby?"

You sigh. You've never been very good at naming your feelings, even when you were a kid. It makes you feel stupid. "I'm anxious today." You finally blurt out.

Finnick turns down the heat on the stove to give you his undivided attention. He nods sympathetically. "I know. Do you wanna talk about it?"

You shake your head. "No. I'm just letting you know."

He nods. "That's okay. Is there anything I can do to help?"

"You've done more than enough," You rush to say.

"That's not what I asked." He retorts gently. "Is there anything you need?"

You gnaw on the inside of your cheek. Asking for what you needed or wanted was also another thing you weren't very good at, but Finnick doesn't make you feel silly for it, and it feels easier to tell him. "Can I have a hug?"

Finnick wastes no time in reaching for you. His arms fit around you as snugly as possible but it doesn't feel constricting. It just feels safe. He rests his chin atop your head and nuzzles his nose into your hair. "Love you."

"I love you," You reply, melting into him. You can't help the smile that tugs at the corner of your lips when you see the steam bubbling from the pot over his shoulder. "Hey, Finn?"

"Yeah, angel?" He pulls away just enough to smooth your hair out of your eyes.

"Guess I'm not the only one who's awful at cooking."

He frowns and looks over his shoulder when you laugh. "Shit!"

[astrowrld300]

Astro Observations

Pt 2

It's so unreal how well Taurus placements can cook. Especially if there's Cancer in the big three. Taurus suns also have natural green thumbs

Cancer suns with Gemini Venuses are in constant conflict between they're ego and what they actually desire for love

This is definitely becoming common knowledge on the internet but all Libra placements that are personal and not generational are gay to some extent. Something about the scales allows them to go both ways I don't know . Depending on the placement and degree, it might make them uncomfortable, or the may proudly embrace it. But personal Libra placements can definitely go both ways

Cardinal signs are obsessed with each other, even though they're so toxic for each other.

5th house and Leo placements really love music. Leo rules the 5th house which is all about music, creativity and fun. So these natives really feel it.

Having your sun in the 11th house is a beautiful placement and creates a selfless person, but its the only placement for the sun to not be about "I" anymore. The sun is all about ego and self, ruled by Aries, but the 11th house is all about the collective, friends and the "greater good". Your ego is also heavily influenced by the collective and how you insert your self into the world.

Taurus moons have round/visible nostrils. They all have a green thumb for cooking as well

Aquarius suns and moons have very square shaped jawlines. Both the men and women.

The best sun+rising combo I've ever seen for Aquarius suns has to be Cancer rising. The blend is really heavenly and harmonious, the Cancer really softens out the Aquarian features perfectly (talking about the women idk about the men). This is only physical though

The best combo for Cancer suns definitely has to be Virgo in the big three. Either in the moon or rising, Virgo gives Cancer this snatched look that blends perfectly with the bone structure of cancer suns. (I'm also mostly referring to women here I don't know about the men) Although physically pretty, the combo creates a super insecure individual

Travel is such a big theme in the lives of natives with personal 9th house placements. It almost becomes the focus of life if there's a stellium.

Having your moon at 17 degrees (a critical Leo degree) makes you hella dramatic with your feelings. They're still valid, but you come off as a drama queen when feeling them.

Cancer suns are just as insecure and attention seeking as Leo when underdeveloped. Even though they're not sister signs they're ruled by the sun and moon, so essentially they are each other inside out.

Pisces is represented by the fish and the suns usually have big/swelled features and look a little bit like fish. Virgo placements have sharper/more defined features and Aries placements have prominent/tighter features.

Neptune aspecting Venus is a very underrated beauty indicator for transits and natal charts

Sagittarius rising are blessed with good luck in life since their chart ruler is Jupiter, the planet of luck. They also have hips on the larger side since Sagittarius rules the hips

Capricorn rules the skeletal part of the body and the native suns really have that skeleton bone structure in the face

Moon conjunct Rising is one of my favorite placements synastry placements for friendships. They are each other inside out and understand each other without words.

The most underrated house for the moon imo is the 9th house. The moon does really well here, there's a natural optimism and lightness to their feelings and emotions. I think this is from the influence of Sagittarius and Jupiter. They're also really funny people naturally and have a kind of intelligent humor

Cancer and Taurus placements are such big foodies. They also know how to cook very well and genuinely enjoy getting fat over other signs. Obviously all signs have the ability to cook, but Cancers and Tauruses make that home cooked comfort food that tastes like the feeling of your mom carrying you to bed.

5th house moons never feel emotionally fulfilled unless they're feeling some kind of fun or pleasure in life.

Taurus suns are the definition of work smarter not harder

Aries Mercuries are so smart especially if the sun is in Taurus or Gemini.

Geminis are known to talk with their hands and Italy's rising sign is literally Gemini...

You can always tell someone is Somali from the size of their forehead and the countries rising sign is literally Aries

Venus in the 8th house natal and synastry is that kind of ride or die love

Capricorn sun men actually think people what to hear their life lessons/lectures. It's really corny but they genuinely think they're helping. They also care so much about their rep but will never admit it. It makes sense because they rule the tenth house which is the house of popularity and is associated with our public image and rep. So obviously when Capricorn is in the sun, planet of self, their ego is closely tied with how they're perceived by others.

Scorpio moons are low key delusional but it's okay you guys had a rough childhood/relationship with your mother

The sexual attraction is crazy when you have the same mars sign as your partners rising sign (example. Leo mars-Leo rising) or if you have your mars opposite to their mars (example. Leo mars-Aquarius mars)

Aries moon women in red or leopard print is so perfect

Your gonna love the sun sign of whatever your rising sign is since the sun will naturally embody all the traits that you admire and will effortlessly be everything you want to be portrayed as.

Taurus risings, suns and moons look like bulls

Cancer venuses can lowkey hold down gemini venuses, it’s really harmonious for friendships. Not as compatible relationship wise because cancer venuses really don’t mess with how gemini venuses love. The love languages are just too different but when there are no constricting boundaries and it’s more of a playful friendship this pairing really works

[thesilmarillionblog]

𝐁𝐄𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐒

Summary: You play Soldier Boy's wife in the new movie. He's a method actor, and so are you. 

Pairing: Soldier Boy / F! Reader

Warnings: +18! (Minors DNI), SMUT, Soldier Boy is cheating CC, rough sex, oral sex (m! receiving), kinda role playing, kinky, unprotected sex, dirty talk, porn without plot lol, set in late 1970's

Word Count: 3283

A/N: English is not my first language.

"Cut!"

Soldier Boy winked at you, pulled his lips back, and loosened his firm arms over your back as the director ordered. His hand continued to touch you daringly during the romantic scenes, so it must have been fun for him to witness your heart race. After licking your lips, you faced the director, who had been discussing the specifics with the rest of his staff.

With an anxious expression on his face, the director wanted to tell Soldier Boy something, but he was too scared to say anything since Soldier Boy wasn't the most sensible person when it came to providing guidance. Whatever was said to him didn't matter. Never.

The director then collected all of his stuff and gestured for you to join him. After taking the iced coffee, Soldier Boy turned to face the anxiously breathing and sweating director in front of him. 

“Now what?” Sitting in the chair, Soldier Boy stretched out his muscles and asked in a harsh voice.

Soldier Boy became irate every time he was given instructions to act with greater enthusiasm and better, suggesting that the director, Mr. Nathan, must be dying of dread and worry. 

“It's a romantic film,” Mr. Nathan remarked, appearing to become agitated as he brought up his hands on his hips. “And the subject at hand is war. It's meant to be intimate and heartfelt.”

“And?”

“You shouldn't behave as though you're going to have sex like you're in an adult film. I hope you don't take offense, sir. You're an excellent actor. However, would you mind being a bit more romantic? It would be quite beneficial.”

Snorting, Soldier Boy said, “Fuck that. A sentimental war film, huh? Jesus... I have no doubt that young soldiers would find greater use for pornographic films if we produced some. Believe me, If I fuck her and then leave her to join war, that would make women and men all cry their eyes out. Are we really making this trash movie for housewives only? Who approved this fucking script anyway?”

“Sure and no, sir—no, definitely not. I'm among those who approved, of course, and I can tell you that the script is excellent. Act a little more genuine. This is a movie that everyone should see. If you'd prefer, we could change the actress. If it would help you to be partners with Crimson Countess, maybe we can arrange that.”

The director looked at you, and you crossed your arms over your chest. Stupid coward. That would be the beginning of your best work, but his terrified ass was prepared to destroy your career before it had ever begun. 

“Oh fuck no!” Soldier Boy gulped down his cold coffee. “Not her dry pussy coming over here. My co-star is talented and fine enough.”

You were going to defend yourself in front of the director, but luckily Soldier Boy was kind enough to stand up for you, which made things much better. You were giving him every indication that, in the end, you would do anything to get this job. You would never have taken part in a greater movie before, and Soldier Boy would be the ideal match for it. That was the top of your career already. He was attractive and interesting, but it was difficult to resist and melt into him at the moments when he was meant to give you a gentle kiss. Clearly, that wasn't his thing—being gentle and loving.

It wasn't your thing either.

Mr. Nathan sighed and answered, “Sure,” becoming tired of Soldier Boy not caring at all about what he was trying to say. “We're all going to have some break, and then we can go on filming, is that alright?”

“All right. Whatever,” Soldier Boy said. His specialty was not romantic war films, obviously. He sounded so corny in situations that you could be positive he detested every single love phrase he ever delivered. But none of you had the guts to tell him that out loud. 

If he wasn't concerned about his acting in the first place, that didn't matter to you. There were times when you found it amusing that he was exaggerating in order to enrage the director. It was difficult for you to not break your character in these situations. The kissing scenes, however, were exceptional. You would have let him fuck you if he had made the move right then. He was only getting you wet with his tongue. 

As soon as Mr. Nathan left, Soldier Boy stood up and stepped toward you, looking intently at you. Your entire body tingled with anticipation. Desire was already causing your legs to tremble. 

With a low tone, he said, “Follow me,” and handed his empty cup to someone. 

With joy, you followed instructions. You had already been thinking filthy stuff since the morning. Your pussy was swollen, and your underwear was already wet since he had been teasing you so much. 

He locked the door when you followed him to his trailer.

He approached your body and looked at your long skirt before saying, “So,” and licked his lips. “What are you thinking about that guy who said that? About acting and anything else?”

As his thumb lingered on your breast, stroking it to make you go wild, you put your hands over his chest, excited about what was about to happen. Your thighs tensed with yearning. 

Whispering, "He might be right," you ran a hand down his chest and felt his hardness through his trousers. 

He smiled a bit at you when he realized you were ready for a quick fuck. You continued to softly touch him there, and his cock hardened. 

With a sigh, “About?” he began to undo your dress so he could see your tits. 

“About your acting,” you muttered as his harsh hand continued to torment you. “You should act more romantically and intimately.” 

“Hmm,” was all he said. 

He palmed both of your tits after he had finished unbuttoning your dress. 

“I consider myself to be a method actor,” he said, grinning arrogantly at you. 

You smirked and said, “What a coincidence; me too,” as you unzipped his pants. You lowered his pants and waited for him to give you guidance. “But what would your girlfriend, Crimson Countess, think about that?”

“I don't see an issue if you seal your pretty mouth. I also don't want to fuck her dry cunt forever. Now, get on your knees,” he said rudely, then, putting his hand behind your head, he pushed you on your knees.

Your pulse was pounding as you followed instructions. It wasn't that you were inexperienced, but it also wasn't that you were doing it for the first time. It had only lasted a minute or two until you had completed it in the past. It hadn't pleased you. You had immediately stopped. 

You were ecstatic to see Soldier Boy's massive, pulsating cock, though. You wrapped your hands around his thick shaft, and you licked your dry lips, sensing its weight in your palm. It was exciting and tantalizing to consider sucking the strongest superhero on the planet. 

You murmured, looking at his face and lightly brushing the tip with your lips, “What do you want me to do?” It was apparent that he was beginning to take pleasure in and enjoy what he was seeing. “Sir.”

He grinned at you and tightened his grasp behind your hair when he heard the final word, letting you know how weak you are in comparison to him. After all, you were both method actors, and the game you were playing was harmless. He was definitely thrilled.

He continued, taking his big cock in his hand and pressing it against your lips. “You're a naughty one, aren't you? About to be railed and excited to suck your co-star's cock. Not because you want to get the job, but simply to be fucked.”

“Maybe,” you said, licking the tip with your tongue. It didn't taste horrible, but it was salty. “Maybe I just want to get fucked by a supe; maybe it's because I want to keep my job.”

He finally lost patience with you and shoved his cock inside your mouth when you continued to tease him. You obeyed and took his cock in your mouth. You could take the head since his shaft was far too big for you, yet it was clear that he wanted more.

“Or perhaps I agree with the director's wish for my co-star to act more intimate in his part.” You teased him and palmed his heavy balls, adding, “Would you act more romantic just like you are expected if I was there, standing while your cum inside me?” You were certain that he would come early enough.

“You shouldn't worry about it. My cum will be flowing between your legs as you wander around,” he groaned. “But you'll suck that cock nice firstly.”

He pushed his cock into your mouth again before you could respond. You started to lick it by slowly getting used to the size of it before figuring out the right rhythm.

“Take it more,” he moaned, pressing your head on his cock. You were too aroused to resist, yet it was difficult to withstand his strength.

You attempted to take more of his throbbing cock by opening your mouth wider and placing your hands on his knees for assistance, but it was too huge.

“Fucking take it,” he snapped, annoyed by your poor attempt. Taking complete control, he then reached behind your hair with his other hand and stilled your head.

He made you choke around him by forcing half of his cock into your mouth with such power that you gagged uncontrollably. But you were determined to push yourself to the very limit. Under the mercy of the most powerful supe made you feel things. You had no idea that you needed such treatment in order to suck a cock properly. You became more and more wet as he applied more pressure, made you choke, and filled your mouth with his cock. 

When you finally had enough of him, he withdrew so he could grab your mouth and start to fuck your face.

"You like that, don't you?" He moved your head to his cock because he enjoyed it. "You like being used like this? You like being controlled, huh? Yes, fuck. Take it!"

His cock, which was covered in your saliva, began to pulse in your mouth as he continued to fuck it. You clenched up, knowing what was about to happen. Your fingers gripped his legs more tightly as you tried to keep up with his power. 

He asked, “You want it in your mouth?” However, it was obvious that it wasn't a question. Both of you and him were lost in pleasure. 

Soldier Boy pulled back his cock and rubbed it on your reddening lips and waited for your response. 

“Yes, please,” you moaned. “I need you finish in my mouth.”

He groaned, “Anything for my co-star,” and pushed his shaft back into your mouth as hard as he could. It was hot inside your throat. 

You shivered in delight and disbelief as he started to flow in your throat, releasing his hot sperm. You moved a bit to relax, but he gave a loud grunt and stilled your head. 

He moaned, “Fucking swallow,” as he continued to thrust his cock farther. You were so out of breath that tears were streaming down your face. He was cursing as he filled your mouth with his thick cum.

When he makes you taste him, you close your eyes and let him release his hot semen into your mouth fully. Though you weren't sure whether you liked the taste at all due to how strong and salty it was, you really enjoyed the whole process. You felt slick there; the way he was controlling your body was beyond perfect. 

He withdrew his cock back once he had finished fucking your mouth. 

Grasping your chin firmly, he said, “Let me see it.” 

Your mouth opened. Excited, you could feel your legs quivering and hoping he wasn't done with you just yet. Even though you weren't sure whether you had enough time to go all the way, you needed to be touched so desperately. 

He said, “Good girl,” seeing that you swallowed all. “Get up now.” 

Without allowing you to react, he made you stand once more. It was absurd how he was still hard destipe spilling inside your mouth seconds ago. You wondered how frequently he would need to come in order to soften. It may have been because he was a supe. The cause didn't matter to you. Thank goodness he had the energy to continue. After all, you had your own needs. 

“I hope we are not finished yet,” you stated, indicating your intentions with another stroke of his now firm cock. 

“You want to be fucked badly, don't you?” Your long skirt was pulled up by the tough hands of Soldier Boy, who gave you a sly smile. “You enjoy getting fucked by engaged men?”

When his erect cock brushed your thighs and you felt out of breath, you taunted him, “Only the supes.”

He chuckled and had a brief look at your underwear. You were relieved he hadn't ripped them off. He removed your tits from your white bra and pushed your unbuttoned shirt down. You arched back properly when he gave your nipples a little play.

“Let's check to see whether you're wet enough to handle it all now. Tell me you're not a virgin.” He gave a warning but added, “I'm going to fuck you raw anyway.”

“I'm not,” you moaned, impatient for him to get inside. This time, you were unable to stop pleading. “Could you please fuck me already?”

The way you begged him made Soldier Boy smirk. “Since you're begging so nicely...”

He grabbed your hair into his palm, then gave his cock five or six firm strokes to make himself completely erect. He then bent your body into the trailer's wall and positioned himself behind your entrance. 

When you actually noticed how much bigger he was than your hole, you gasped. Not that you didn't get fucked, but it had really been a while. 

“Relax a little for fucks sake. Take it properly, or it's going to hurt. I won't give a fuck,” he warned, pressing himself farther inside of you.

You tensed up. He was pulling your hair a little and knowing that if he utilized his strength a little more, he could break your neck. That should have alarmed you, but instead it enhanced your excitement. Being at a supe's mercy as he fucked you was more exciting than any other sex you had ever had because you never knew if he might lose control while trying to get his pleasure. 

He made you scream with pleasure and pain as he pushed his entire cock inside of you, pushing back with one strong motion. You began to moan and tried to fix your balance, but he instantly stilled your body by pulling your hair.

He moaned in rage, “Don't fucking move,” and proceeded to fuck you senselessly. Your eyes watered with every move he made, and your insides ached a bit. Both the pleasure and the pain that you experienced were immense.

“That's how you should get fucked. Like a slut you are. You are a slut, aren't you? You wanted me to fuck you there?” He groaned while continuing to penetrate you from the back. Your hair was tugged again by his hand. He needed a response. 

“Yeah,” you moaned, placing a hand against his severe grip on your hip. “I needed you to fuck me right there.”

He was obviously pleased with your response since you could almost hear him smirking. 

“Oh, yeah. Are you not embarrassed to want to have sex with an engaged man? Allow him to use your body any way he chooses. Show him that you are better than his future wife. You like the idea of a supe cheating on his girlfriend with you?” His filthy words caused your walls to contract as he gave you a strong and quick fuck. You were embarrassingly wet. 

You teased him, “So what?” in between moans. “In the film we're in, we're husband and wife, right? We need to get into the role properly.”

“Do you think you can wear my sperm right there and yet perform your role properly? What would they say if they knew? Will you tell them you wanted me to fuck you so that you could do your role more effectively? Do you want everyone to know your cunt is full of my cum? Is that it?” 

You knew that the game you were playing was making him more thrilled, so when he bent your body harder, you let out an excited gasp. He widened your legs and placed both of his hands on each side of your hips. Without his support, you would have already fallen. 

You screamed out, “Yes, please, please,” as your walls continued to clench around his thick cock. “Husband.” 

“Oh fuck,” he groaned as he got closer. He firmly gripped your bouncing tits and gave them a firm squeeze. “I'm going to fill you so good. Going to satisfy my wife's small greedy cunt nicely. Do you really want that, baby?         Where do you want me to cum?”

Moaning, “Yeah, oh fuck, fuck. Please come inside, husband.” Your orgasm hit so hard you had to scream his name this time. You were sure some of the staff heard your screaming. Your walls clenched badly. You got his dick wet with your slick as your legs were trembling frantically. You felt like you were about to pass out from the intense fucking you were getting from him during your peak.

He moaned, “Whatever my wife wishes,” as he continued to penetrate you despite your oversensitivity. He then began to come inside of you with a loud grunt. Before he came, he held your hips so forcefully that you felt he was going to break your body till he was satisfied. 

He cautiously removed his cock after giving you a bit more pleasure and making sure he had emptied his balls within your pussy. He gave you a hard spank on the ass and complimented you on your well-done move, seeing how his sperm was flowing between your legs. 

You grinned to yourself and pulled up your underwear when you knew you were fucked well for real. You could let him fuck you again since his hot sperm in you felt so nice. 

As he was complimenting you, you could hear him stuffing his dick back into his pants. “Now that was a good fuck.”

You looked at him and fixed your shirt, skirt, and hair. “I'm glad you enjoyed,” you said, biting your lips. You could still taste him.

“I'm sure I'm not the only one who enjoyed it,” he said, immediately lighting a cigarette and giving you a sly smirk. 

You were told to expect on the set in five minutes when someone knocked on the door right then. You smiled to yourself, undisturbed by the stares from the staff, and spent the remainder of the day with Soldier Boy. You both believed that the method of acting had had the intended impact on you and him. The director was pleased with the two of you. After the break, Soldier Boy was acting better, at least. If only they knew the reason.

It's true that method acting helped you get into your roles better. Particularly behind the scenes.

⋆⋅☆⋆☆⋅⋆───⛥───⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───⛥───⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

Comments and reblogs are very appreciated. Let me know what you think please. For more, here's my MASTERLIST. ♥︎

[tackykachowch]

Hey guys remember that terrible letter in s2? Well, how about I tell you that it's actually worse than it seems?

Alright. For the purpose of my point being more clear I'll recite it here. *barely held in gag*

"Silco. I've looked everywhere, but it's clear that you don't want to be found. Oh, God, I'm shit at this (THEN WHY ARE YOU EVEN WRITING IT YOU STUPID IDIOT. Sorry). I'm sorry. When she died, I lost my head. I told myself that what I did to you was for the greater good, that you deserved it. But the dirt was on both our hands. Anyway, you know where to find me. Blisters and Bedrock"

So, it is obvious that Vander regrets what he did to Silco and that he doesn't view him as a "villian of the story" anymore, so to speak. His murder attempt was purely emotional rather than motivated by ideological opposition or something else. Great.

Buuuut let's rewind to the very start of the series. Right to episode one. There. Take a look at these screenshots.

So Vander says to Benzo that there's someone on their side (the Undercity) who is worse than enforcers. Not even someONE, but someTHING. This implies quite a big level of resentment if you ask me. While he's saying that, he looks at his right hand and touches his uhh...I don't. Know how this thing's called I'm sorry. Let's call it a leather cover. There's clearly a reason why he wears it now, and this seems to be connected to the "thing" they're talking about. Alright. I guess we'll find out more about this later.

Fast forward to episode three. Heeeeey, what is THAT??

So Silco cut his hand?? Well, that all makes sense now then. Something brought Silco and Vander to a conflict, which resulted in Vander trying to kill Silco, and Silco cutting Vander's hand when he was escaping from him. For now (💀) we don't know what exactly caused such a rift between them, but it apparently was something pretty serious considering that Vander even stopped referring to Silco as a person. While he does later says to Silco that what he did to him was wrong, but nothing indicates that Vander changed his opinion on WHY he did it.

Now, there could be an argument that Silco did something that made Vander hate Silco AFTER the river scene, and this is why Vander thinks so badly of him. But earlier in the same episode we see THIS reaction from Vander when Silco appears.

So here's the question: why would Vander react like that to seeing Silco if he knew of something horrible he did post their fallout? What's more likely, he hasn't heard anything about Silco AT ALL, whether he's dead or alive or what he does. So Vander's opinion of Silco ("something worse than enforcers") formed prior to their falling out and it didn't change over time.

Now that we have all that information let's go back to our dear, favorite letter.

Uhhhh so. Vander is an incredibly awful person???? Either that, or he has an extremely severe case of amnesia. Because why would he go from wanting to reconcile with Silco and not blaming him for what happened straight into thinking that he's worse than enforcers and not even a person?? Or in his mind these things can coexist somehow?? And to add to all of that, apparently he never told Benzo the truth about their falling out, and made him think that Silco is an "animal". What, was Vander so butthurt by Silco never contacting him that he went full 5-year-old-mode "Humph!! I hate you now!!" and proceeded to lie to everyone about Silco?? So much for a reasonable and peaceful leader of the Lanes, huh.

But we all know that's not the case at all. The case is, of course, that writers forgot to rewatch season 1 and made up a reason for Vander and Silco to fight which is not at all aligns with what we knew about them and their relationship before. This is, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, one of the biggest cases of negligence in storytelling that I've ever seen.

[alchemistc]

"Evan's not here," Tommy says, and Eddie scowls at him as he pushes past Tommy, already aiming for the kitchen as he hitches the six pack he'd brought with him up under his armpit. It'd been a - a thing. A 'my best friend and my new friend are too busy sucking face to spend every spare moment distracting me from my problems' thing, a thing where Eddie sort of finally understood exactly why Buck had hip checked him on the basketball court months ago. He wants his best friend back. He wants the ease of his friendship with Tommy back.

Which is - Christ, he's selfish, is the thing. A month without Chris there to keep him occupied and Eddie has had some startling realizations about himself. ("You're not selfish, Eddie, you're the most selfless person I know." from Buck and "So fix it," from Tommy, a rare night out with the both of them because he'd headed date night off at the pass by asking Tommy to go out for drinks before he and Buck could make plans without him).

"My world doesn't revolve around Buck," Eddie tells him, and screws the cap off a beer to hand it to Tommy. Tommy's doing that judgmental face he gets when he wants to say something bitchy but hasn't put the words in the right order yet. And - Eddie's not lying. Buck is a fixed point, an ever present life-line, but he's not the fucking sun.

Neither is Chris, apparently, which is news to Eddie and he's - spiralling, still. Quietly, calmly, and he's only punched one hole in the wall on a bad night.

"You ever go to Frank?" Eddie asks, like Frank is the only therapist in the greater LA area, and Tommy rolls his eyes, disappears long enough for the muted sound of the television to go quiet.

When he comes back Eddie's reading the label on his beer bottle

"Apparently I resent you," Eddie says, and Tommy chuffs a laugh.

"Apparently?"

"No, I -." The words had been just as hard two hours ago. This little trip was his own design, he'd been told specifically to sit in it for a while but Christ, an hour a week isn't enough time to talk through his issues and it's not like he can tell Buck he resents him for finding something he's happy and stable and solid in. So. Tommy it is. "You and Buck are good together. I'm happy for you both. I am."

Tommy settles against a countertop with his hip digging into the Formica. His kitchen has gained a dutch oven that looks suspiciously like the one Buck has been showing Eddie for like six months that he couldn't justify the cost of because he's not around enough to use it as much as he'd like.

"I'm not usually the one without his shit together," Eddie says.

"No offense, Eddie, but I thought the whole point of therapy was you realizing you rarely have your shit together."

Also true. He's - usually better at hiding it though. Kim was a joker stacked up on a wobbly house of cards and he'd known, somewhere in the back of his mind, that she'd bring the whole thing tumbling to the ground. Mass casualty event. No survivors.

"You make each other better people," Eddie says, which is the wrong thing to say apparently because Tommy scowls.

"If you wanna completely ignore all the work we've both put into ourselves," he snipes, and - yeah. Fair. Buck's been in therapy for years now. Every once in a while he'll pull something out of his ass that makes Eddie's skin itch - something so mystifyingly self-aware that it makes Eddie want to claw into his chest cavity and rip out his fucking heart. And Tommy - well, he doesn't know much but it's not like Tommy's the paragon of perfection. He's worked through some shit. Is still working through shit, if the aftermath of his and Buck's first real fight is any indication.

"I've never been with someone who makes me want to work on myself," Eddie admits, and the lines around Tommy's eyes shift. He sighs.

"Never gonna find that if you don't want it for yourself."

Yeah. Frank's said as much. It's just - Eddie doesn't have a starting point. Tommy had the whole hiding his true self thing, and Buck had the dead-brother-shitty-parents thing, and he's whittling them both down to the sharp edges of themselves in his mind, which isn't entirely fair but it's easier than trying to confront what the fuck his own problem is. Dead wife, his kid in another state, a contentious relationship with his father, a whole backlog of PTSD he's never really confronted head on. Weird feelings cropping up about a religion he thought he'd left in the dust and sand of Afghanistan and a hole he's been trying to fill up with other people since - well, he doesn't even know since when.

Tommy's got his dog tags laying in the bottom of an empty fruit bowl on his kitchen table. Eddie's never seen them before, and some part of him knows Tommy'd brought them out for a conversation with Buck he'll never hear himself, and he aches. He doesn't want them, but he wants what they have, wants to be able to talk about the difficult shit without closing in on himself, wants to have someone to come home to, wants -

"I spent six months imagining my therapist's head exploding every time she made me talk about something uncomfortable," Tommy tells him, and takes a long drag off his beer. For the first time since he'd knocked on Tommy's door, Eddie actually feels a little bad about interrupting his night, but that just leaves him spiralling some more because Eddie usually feels bad about everything, all the time, so why hadn't he felt guilty about this until now? And why does he feel guilty about not feeling guilty?

"I just want him to fix me," Eddie says, and Tommy laughs. Laughs hard and long enough that Eddie's feeling offended. Off kilter and pissed off and -

"You're not a single loose wire, Eddie. Can't just replace a cable and have a clean slate. You gotta change your oil and replace the spark plugs and top up the coolant, over and over again until you die."

It's the sort of metaphor Eddie'd like to lob across the field of engagement just to watch it get shot to pieces. It's apt, though.

"Feels like the whole engines gotta go," Eddie tells him "Transmission's shot and my catalytic converter keeps getting stolen and the mufflers been welded back on so many times that it's half-solder."

"Christ," Tommy says, which. Yeah. Exactly. "Well you can't exactly send yourself to the junk yard for scrap and buy a newer model."

"Buck does," Eddie snaps, and Tommy rolls his eyes. He'd been there the last time Buck brought up his 1.0 days.

"Half the time a system update patches ten bugs and creates twenty more."

"So Buck's buggy, is what you're saying."

He rolls his tongue over his teeth. "You are running off faulty software and you've been refusing to update to the new version because you heard it'd burn the battery faster, is what I'm saying."

Eddie doesn't have a whole lot of charge to begin with. And the metaphors are starting to muddle in his brain, too many different ideas battling around when he's already spent an ornery hour talking to Frank and another trying to convince himself he doesn't resent his best friend for accepting his own fucking flaws and working on them.

Tommy sets the beer bottle down. Eyes Eddie for a moment, and Eddie wonders how often he levels that look on Buck, how Buck feels when Tommy flays him open and digs through his insides. "You wanna go hit something for a bit?" he asks, and Eddie nods so quickly he nearly smacks his nose into the brim of the bottle in his own hand. He's about done feeling his feelings, for the moment. He'll probably end up being annoyed that Tommy makes him wrap his hands before he takes some aggression out on the bag hung up in the corner of Tommy's garage, but maybe when Tommy gets annoyed with him and does that takedown maneuver that knocks the wind out of Eddie's lungs when they're sparring he'll let that go.

Tommy flicks his forehead on the way to grab him something to wear. "That's for calling my boyfriend buggy, jackass," he says, and laughs himself all the way down the hall when Eddie splutters after him.

His bedroom door snicks shut by the time Eddie's recovered enough to remind him that he'd been Eddie's friend first.

[cy-cyborg]

Tips for writing and drawing Wheelchair using characters: Your character's wheelchair can tell us a lot about them

When you first start learning character design, you'll often be told something to the effect of "use your character's outfit to tell us more about them" - and this same principles can be applied to a disabled character's mobility aids.

Mobility aids like wheelchairs, to many disabled people, are a part of us. They can be an extension to a person's body and chances are, if you're going to be using this piece of equipment every day for the foreseeable future (or at least for a good amount of time for the foreseeable future), it's going to start reflecting some aspects of your personality, your interests, your passions, especially when you remember, a lot of people get their wheelchairs custom built for them.

You can use your character's wheelchair to tell us a lot about them without ever needing to show/describe them directly.

Let me show you two examples:

Take a look at these two wheelchairs. they're similar in shape and build, but still pretty different to each other. Can you make some guesses about their users based only on what's shown here?

intended answers below:

Please note, the following points are all generalisations and the real world is rarely this simple. This is to demonstrate how to use disability aids to contribute to your character's design, not how to make assumptions about real people in real life.

So here are some similarities between the chairs:

Both wheelchairs have ridged frames, this means the wheelchair can't be folded in any way. These kinds of chairs can imply a few different things depending on the person. They are typically lighter, sturdier and more durable, and indicate the person probably will be using the wheelchair for a long time and/or has the money to get something built to last (or lives in a place where cost not an issue due to universal/subsidised access to healthcare). They are also typically better to travel with when flying, as they are less likely to be broken by airport security/staff.

Both wheelchairs also lack anti-tip wheels, which are a third set of wheels that extend from the back of the chair. Them not being present could indicate the person is likely pretty confident in their ability to use the chair without worrying about tipping out. It could also indicate they are in an environment where the anti-tips could be more of a hazard than a help, such as on rough terrain.

So lets look at some specifics for the green wheelchair:

Take a look at the wheels. The front wheels are pretty small and appear to be solid, while the back wheels appear to be quite narrow (compared to the orange chair anyway). This indicates the user likely lives somewhere with decent accessibility like a (well funded) city where they are unlikely to encounter unpaved/dirt roads/grass. Small front wheels and thin back wheels are good for manoeuvrability and a smooth ride over even terrain, but they will get stuck as soon as bumps appear, so this probably isn't an issue for this person.

While its a bit hard to tell unless you have seen other similar wheelchairs, this wheelchair is very long in the front, meaning the footplate and front wheels are further away from the seat than most. There could be a few reasons for this. One either indicates the person has very long legs, or a lack of motion in their knees, making it harder to bend their legs. This is moves the chair's centre of gravity forward by a decent amount, making it harder to tip back, which could indicate the person's legs are very light. You tend to see this most often in the wheelchairs of bilateral leg amputees, who are at a greater risk of tipping backwards due to a lack of weight at the front of the chair (even if they wear their prosthetics).

The colour of the chair is bright. This could simply be the character's favourite colour, or maybe this colour has some significance to them?

There are stickers on the side of the chair relating to the Paralympics. This could indicate the person is a fan, or perhaps had some involvement in the games?

The wheelchair has handles on the back, but they are able to be folded down. This is a popular feature for people who are independent enough to go out on their own, but still want to have the option for some help. folding down the handles also deters random strangers from grabbing at you (an unfortunately common experience for wheelchair users).

There is some mild paint scratching to the front of the wheelchair, but nothing too noticable. This is typical of older chairs and people who are a little rough on their chairs. Maybe they've had a few stacks and falls throughout the years, probably going a decent speed.

Ok, now let's look at the orange chair

This wheelchair has very large, inflatable front wheels, and very thick back wheels. This will make the chair slower and less manoeuvrable on flat/even surfaces, but much, much easier to push on rough terrain. This is supported by the amount of mud on the wheelchair.

The seat on this wheelchair tilts upwards slightly. This is called a bucket (or according to an old basketball teammate of mine, a dump-truck lol). This is a feature you typically see in wheelchairs made for people with spinal injuries who are unable to move their legs and engage their lower bodies or core to help keep them stable.

The back of this chair is very low, indicating that if this wheelchair user has a spinal injury, it's probably pretty low on their spine, likely fairly close to the hips, making the person a low-level paraplegic. Higher-level paraplegics and quadriplegics usually need a higher back to help support them and keep them from flopping over, since all the muscles below their place where their spine broke either doesn't work, or is significantly weaker. Higher backs though can get in the way of pushing and reduce mobility, so people who need less support will likely opt for a lower back rest.

This wheelchair has no handles, which indicates the user is probably very independent and doesn't need a lot of help getting around.

The paint on this wheelchair is very scratched up, showing the person is very tough on their wheelchair and doesn't care to get the paint touched up.

This wheelchair has no breaks. This is very common on chairs with larger tiers as they don't tend to be as effective, but also on many outdoor wheelchairs, for two reasons. One is because they are made for rough terrain, so chances are, you aren't going to go far without a big push to get you moving. The second reason is that to get over large bumps and obsticals in a wheelchair, it can be helpful to do very large pushes using the top and front of the wheel. When pushing a normal chair, most people will only use the top section of the wheel to push since it's closest, but these big pushes that use the front of the wheel make it easier to push, since you can benefit from downwards momentum. However, this is also where the breaks are located on most wheelchairs, which can create a hazard. I've lost entire fingernails by them getting snagged on the breaks when pushing this way. So if you live somewhere where the breaks are not going to be helpful to you often, it makes sense to not get them.

And here are the characters who own these wheelchairs

The owner of the green wheelchair is an amalgamation of a few people I knew from when I played wheelchair basketball. They're a bilateral leg amputee, and judging by their outfit (The Official National Wheelchair Basketball uniform for Australia), they're an elite athlete. This wheelchair is not the one they play sport in, but it still needs to be durable enough to withstand the rough treatment of airport staff when traveling, as well as heavy day-to-day use that comes with being an active person. While it needs to be rough, the person also seemed to want to prioritise speed and manoeuvrability, and likely doesn't need to worry about rough terrain too much, so they probably live in a major city.

The owner of the orange chair was inspired by a family friend of mine. They live on a farm, and need a chair that can handle life in those conditions, rough terrain and all. This comes at the cost of speed and manoeuvrability on smoother terrain, but honestly, anyone who's lived in the country knows you won't find many of those around there anyway, so that's not too big of a sacrifice. They are paraplegic, are very confident in their ability to use their wheelchair, and probably doesn't need help too often, but still benefit from some extra stability support from the raised seat on their chair.

Conclusion

Once again, these are generalisations, and in real life there are always exceptions, but I hope this helped demonstrate what I meant when I said you can use your character's wheelchair to tell us more info about them if you're smart about it.

I originally planned to do a whole series of these, showing a wider variety of wheelchairs and the people who they belong to, but I guess I kind of forgot because they've been sitting, abandoned on my hard drive for the last 2 years 😅. If that's something you folks would be interested in seeing though, let me know, I'd happily revive the series lol.

[b38rman]

SLOW MOTION, DOUBLE-VISION ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡☾ ﾟ｡⋆ Ollie Bearman

tags - ollie bearman x afab!reader, childhood friends to lovers, reader is in uni, light angst, eventual smut (with feelings), explicit sexual content

synopsis - No matter how many years passed by, it was glaringly obvious that you would never admit to yourself that you’d always wished for Ollie to be the one for you. It was hard back then, and it was even harder now. (OR: Your head knew that your childhood best friend would never be the one for you. Your heart just hadn’t realized it yet.)

rating - explicit

warnings - 18+ minors dni, slight angst (a little bit of arguing), explicit sexual content, unprotected sex

a/n - very obviously inspired by gold rush by taylor swift. ollie IS gold rush to me. highly recommend listening to it while thinking of him.

Whenever Ollie ran, you would chase him. Whether it was through his garden, between classrooms, or around your dinner table, you'd been doing it ever since you could remember. 

That was until he ran far, far away from you to Italy—of course you wouldn't follow (no matter how badly you wanted to.)

It was amidst this chase when you realized that no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't stop longing for him. You'd known this since you were 12 years old, when he grinned from the pew next to you as he caught you falling asleep during a church sermon. After that, you couldn't stop realizing the squeeze in your chest when you made him laugh, or the way he'd look at you at the end of a karting race, and how he'd thank you on those days like your company meant more than the accolades he was collecting. 

At 16 and 17, when he'd just moved and you'd already begun preparing for university, you'd try to keep in contact regularly. You'd watch as your laptop screen filled with the smile that had made your knees weak even from a thousand miles away and promptly force yourself to shut down those feelings.

"Hey you." He'd say, like he always did. "Hi. How was work today?" You'd answer, and he'd beam before talking your ear off for an hour or two, or until he decided he was too tired to keep going. 

Many times you wished you could reach through the screen and trace the freckles on his cheeks. You longed for the certainty of knowing how they felt under your fingertips.

On these calls, you knew that he just needed someone to listen to him. It wasn't that you weren't genuinely interested in what he was saying—of course you were—it was just that maybe your life was getting so bland that you had nothing to share with him, or that all of those things paled in comparison to what he was doing. The distance was far greater than the mileage separating both of you.

"Good night Ollie, sleep tight." You'd say at the end of one of these calls, watching his eyes blink slowly, indicating that he was already drifting off.

"You aren't telling me something." He answered. You felt your stomach twist.

I miss you, was definitely on your mind. I love you and I want you here were more self indulgent options for sure.

"I'm telling you everything." It was a white lie, but you couldn't think of what else to say to that.

You watched as Ollie's face dropped and shifted into an expression you couldn't read. He paused to take a moment, before going back to his own sleepiness.

"Good night." And the screen faded to black.

Over time, the calls became less and less frequent. It was sad, honestly; you went from seeing him basically everyday to feeling like you were barely a part of his life. Ultimately, though, it became clear how you were worlds apart from each other, especially since he stopped coming home for holidays and birthdays, and you didn't have the time to visit Modena no matter how many times you'd promised that to him in the past.

You existed on different planets—entirely different dimensions and planes of reality. He could pick and choose between celebrities and Instagram models, and you were stuck highlighting textbooks living from deadline to deadline.

That was until you got the call. 

“Ollie’s coming home.” Your mom said as soon as you picked up. You were cycling from one building to another between your classes and had three missed calls from her already. 

“What?” You hoped the shock surfacing in your voice wasn’t that obvious, considering how jarring it was in comparison to your mom’s excitement. 

“Yes! Come home for the weekend, it’ll be just like old times.” Your mom answered, thankfully not detecting your nerves.

It would be like old times, but this Ollie  wasn’t. You didn’t know what to do with that. What you were sure of though, is Ollie wasn’t running anymore—and you weren’t sure if that meant you had to stop chasing him too.

Ollie was standing behind his parents when you arrived at their house. It felt surreal, like you were undergoing some kind of half-dream, half-deja vu state. After greeting his parents with the usual pleasantries about how university is treating you and how you grow up so fast, you finally got to lay eyes on Ollie after three whole years. 

All you could see in that moment was him. It was like your mind fell silent and the only sound that cascaded through your body was that of your heart pounding against your ribcage.

In front of him, you were five, twelve, sixteen, and nineteen all at once. 

The silence felt like it lasted a lifetime, but he pulled you in before he could say a word.

The world went silent as you closed your eyes and let yourself stay in that moment. It was as if his parents and little brother weren't in the doorway with you—as if the world was your hometown and Modena was universes away.

"I missed you." Ollie said so earnestly your body was going to explode. He buried his face in your hair and you swore he was a few inches taller than he was when he left you.

"Me too." You replied into his chest, trying to breathe through how overwhelming everything was.

You were on your phone, lying in Ollie's twin-sized mattress, perfectly preserved like a sacred relic from your childhood. You'd remember nights when you'd snuggle together, his touch like a comforting anchor amidst seas that he could calm with his hand. You wondered if it was the same as it had always been. Would it be different now? Was it different now?

You glanced above the screen to watch Ollie reassembling his simulator in silence. It was comfortable, with the only air of awkardness coming from the elephant standing in the corner of the room; that being you not being on conversational terms previously despite being 'best friends.'

"Need help?" You asked, as you watched Ollie furrow his brows at some part that looked like any other part, which was confusing in itself but you were willing to help anyway. 

"No, all good." He chewed his bottom lip, clearly still frustrated and at a loss at what to do. 

You pursed your lips together and calmly asked a second time, "You sure?"

"Yes! I told you I didn't need your help the first time. Why aren't you listening to me?" Ollie let go of the parts he was holding, opting instead to press his eyes into his palms. "It used to be so easy to have you around, I just can't figure out why it's so different now."

"Well maybe it's because you're different now, Ollie." You couldn't help but raise your voice back at him as your heart pounded for entirely different reasons now.

"Oh, I don't know, maybe you were the one who stopped talking to me." His eyes pierced through you, but his glare was so obviously laced with hurt. It hurt you too—of course it did. 

You took a deep breath before replying. 

"You could literally pick any other girl to talk to, I don't know why what I do matters so much to you." You felt the tears well up in your eyes as you tried to stop your voice from fraying at the send of your sentence. You closed your eyes and covered your face in an attempt to stop the tears, but that proved futile as the warm wet streaks soon lined your face.

You felt the side of the bed dip and a hand reach out to gently touch the hands on your face. 

"Hey, I'm sorry, look at me." He wrapped his calloused hand around your wrist and exposed your red, splotchy face in all its glory to him. "You know me, you know I don't care about—" Ollie gestured loosely with one hand "—them. Besides, none of them will ever be you."

You tried not to overthink his statement too much as he moved his hand from his wrist to your cheek, then to your forehead. You held your breath as he leaned forward to press a kiss on your forehead, then down to your right cheek. You felt all the air exit your lungs as he pressed his forehead to yours, so impossibly close to you.

Growing up, you'd always wondered what it would be like to study how perfect every freckle and feature on his face was. Now that it was happening, the overwhelming glimmer in his eyes barely gave away that none of this was a pipe dream that you'd imagined from too many days away from him.

"Can I—" Ollie started. 

You grabbed his chin and smashed your lips together, taking him by surprise before he could even finish his sentence. People describe kissing to be like fireworks going off in your belly, or like butterflies swarming—however, there were no butterflies or fireworks, because those things couldn't even come close to what you were feeling. 

The kiss was hard and deep and neverending. It wasn’t the kind of kiss that came from years of anticipation—it was something else entirely; gentler, more deliberate. You felt Ollie’s hand slide to your waist, pulling you closer as though he was afraid you might disappear. Every inch of space that had once stretched between you over the years seemed to fold in on itself, leaving only the heat of his lips on yours and the sound of your uneven breaths filling the room.

“Ollie,” you whispered against his mouth when you finally pulled away, your voice barely audible. His name hung in the air like a confession.

He looked at you, his eyes filled with something raw, and you almost wished you could look away from how immense it was. “I mean it,” he murmured. “None of them will ever be you.”

Your chest tightened, the weight of those words nearly leading you to collapse. You didn’t need him to explain further because it made sense now. From the moment he grinned at you in that church pew, to the countless video calls where his smile never quite reached his eyes anymore, and even now as his thumb brushed gently across your cheek—it all made sense.

But there was still a sliver of fear inside you. “What happens when you leave again?” you asked softly. Your hand found its way to his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart beneath your palm. “What happens to us then?”

Ollie let out a shaky breath, his forehead pressing against yours again. “I don’t know,” he admitted honestly. “But I do know that I can’t keep pretending it doesn't feel like this to me. I can’t keep running away from this—away from you.”

His words hit you like a tidal wave. For years, you’d chased him, only to stop when you thought he’d never look back. But here he was, tethering himself to you with a kind of sincerity that was so intense it was just on the verge of too much. 

You didn’t say anything more. Instead, you let yourself kiss him again—this time slower, more intentional. His lips moved against yours like he was committing every moment to memory, like he didn’t want to forget a single second of this.

Eventually, the kiss deepened, and his hands roamed cautiously over your back, your waist, like he was overriding the memories he had of you with this one. You felt the mattress shift as he pulled you down with him, your body fitting against his as though it had always been meant to. The warmth of his hands against your skin grounded you, making you feel like this wasn’t just a dream.

“Ollie,” you breathed his name again, your voice trembling as his lips found your jaw, your neck. “I’ve waited so long for this.”

“So have I,” he confessed between kisses, his voice husky and filled with need. “You have no idea how long.”

You stayed on your sides, your head spinning as you continued to kiss. Maybe it was the oxygen that you were losing from kissing for this long, or maybe it was how high you were on the fact that Ollie felt the same way about you. Either way, you knew where this was leading, and you could barely believe that it was happening here, in Ollie's bedroom. You couldn't figure out if it felt sacred or if it unlocked certain fantasies that you didn't dare indulge in. 

Ollie was the one who made the first move, daring to move his warm, calloused hands over your ribcage, tantalizingly close to your breasts. "Please, Ollie," you brought your mouth away from his for a moment to plead. "Need you." You said, punctuated by you moving his hands under your bra. 

You shuddered under his touch as his hand rubbed across your nipples, leading you to jerk your hips forward into the growing hardness in his pants. You knew the moan he let out would fill your ears and mind with yearning long after this.

You toyed with the hem of his shirt as both your movements grew more and more desperate, and that cued Ollie to rid of his shirt altogether. You followed suit with your shirt and bra, making sure to spend enough time admiring just how beautiful all of him was, like he himself was chiseled out of the marble they used to make the statues of demigods.

"You're staring." He said smugly, eyes glistening with mischief and warmth. You chuckled back at him. 

"Well I'm sorry." The apology came out sounding snarky and sarcastic, and it was Ollie's turn to laugh.

"You aren't though." Ollie quipped back before diving into your neck once again, licking and biting just to get some noises out of you. 

He then helped you out of your shorts and underwear, seemingly desperate to run his fingers through your folds. "Fuck, you're so wet for me." You gasped as he ran his fingers over your clit and your hole, spreading your wetness around. 

Ollie made quick work of his own pants and boxers, and you indulged him by wrapping your hands around his dick, hard and leaking pre-cum. After you gave him a few experimental pumps, he was relenting. "Ah—wait—don't want to cum yet." 

Soon after, your hand was replaced by Ollie's as he guided his length into you, inch by inch. He had one hand at the base of his dick, and the other holding your knee up, making the angle better and ensuring that you were properly open for him to lay all of his love into. 

You didn't even have time to think after he bottomed out inside you, because soon after he was setting a pace that could only be described as relentless, like he was trying to repent for the years you'd waited. You couldn't help the moans that escaped your mouth as he pounded into you. 

You held on to him as he laid into you, whimpering as sweat began to form on his brow. 

"Tell me," He said, breathless as the room was filled with the sounds of skin against skin, "Tell me you love me." 

Your heart felt like it was bursting at the seams. "I love you—God, fuck—I love you."

With that, Ollie was burying himself deep into you and reaching his climax, painting your insides with pearly white rivulets. You were not far behind, clenching and cumming around his cock as he ground the last of his orgasm into you. 

As soon as Ollie pulled out, he was grabbing napkins from his bedside table, cupping a wad of them at your entrance as his cum seeped out of you. He seemed focused on it though, how you were practically dripping with his release and yours. 

"I could get used to this." Ollie's breathing turned heavy.

"You're kind of nasty." You replied playfully, shifting the mood as he cleaned you up.

"You love it." He joked, but you knew there was more behind that. 

"Almost as much as I love you." You followed up, laying a kiss on his flushed cheek. 

For the first time in years, you didn’t feel like you were chasing him anymore. He was here—grounded, steady, and most importantly, yours alone.

[xillpregnant]

Amelia's Journey: Three Miracles in One Afternoon

+18 Graphic Depictions of Birth, Contractions, Childbirth Pain, Sexual Themes, Birth Denial, Multiple Births

World count: 5k+

This is my first writing here on Tumblr. I hope you enjoy it! If you have any ideas for future writings, feel free to share them—I’d be happy to write them!

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

Amelia was at a critical point, overdue and ready to give birth at any moment. Her belly, now round and heavy, was a constant presence, a reminder of the three little ones growing inside her.

Every morning, upon waking up, she felt extra pressure in the lower part of her abdomen, as if the lives inside her were about to burst out at any moment. Physical exhaustion was already a familiar companion: her feet were swollen, and her breasts, always sensitive, were now fuller and heavier than ever. Breast milk had already begun to produce, and Amelia had grown used to the feeling of her full, heavy breasts.

That afternoon, Amelia stood in front of the mirror, carefully observing her abdomen. The taut, shiny skin was becoming increasingly evident, marked with fine lines that indicated the expansion of her body to make room for the three children she carried.

After a moment of introspection, Amelia decided to take a warm bath to relax. She slowly undressed, admiring her reflection in the mirror. Her belly was round and prominent, and her breasts were larger and more sensitive than ever. She felt drawn to her own reflection, admiring how her body had transformed.

As she immersed herself in the hot water, Amelia allowed her hand to explore her body. She began to caress her breasts, feeling how the skin tightened under her touch. Her nipples hardened, and Amelia felt a shiver run down her back. Breast milk began to flow gently.

With a more intimate movement, Amelia allowed her hand to slide towards her vagina. Her fingers glided smoothly over her lips, feeling the moisture and warmth of her body. Amelia began to move her hand with more intensity, touching her clitoris and feeling how pleasure grew inside her. Each movement was like a caress that made her feel alive and connected to her own body.

Just as Amelia began to feel greater pleasure, the babies inside her seemed to wake up. They began to move with more force, their soft but insistent kicks like a rhythm accompanying her breathing.

As she continued masturbating, the movements of the babies became more intense. They seemed to be dancing to the rhythm of her pleasure. The hot water seemed to envelop her in a layer of sensuality, and each movement was like an explosion of pleasure inside her.

Finally, when Amelia was about to reach climax, she began to feel a different sensation. Her body tensed, and a soft but firm contraction ran through her abdomen. Amelia paused for a moment, feeling how her body reacted. The contraction intensified, and Amelia knew something was changing. The babies seemed ready to be born, and her body was preparing for labor.

Amelia got out of the bathtub with slow and calculated movements. She dried herself calmly, feeling the slight tickle of water dripping down her skin while her belly pulsed with intermittent tension. She knew her body was preparing, but convinced she still had time, she didn't let herself be rushed.

She opened the closet and took the closest clothes: a soft fabric blouse that barely covered her swollen belly and tight black jeans that, with some effort, she managed to put on. The tight fabric pressed a bit on her abdomen, but she decided to ignore it. "It's just for a while," she told herself, sliding her swollen feet into a pair of comfortable sneakers.

With a mental list in hand, she grabbed the keys and left the house with a firm step. She had to go to the mall before labor progressed too much. "Everything under control," she kept repeating to herself.

She got into her car and started the engine. As she drove, she felt another contraction, this time more defined. It wasn’t too painful, but enough to make her furrow her brow. She let out a sigh and forced herself to relax her shoulders. "It’s normal," she thought, keeping her eyes on the road.

The drive was short, but as she went on, the contractions began to follow a more consistent rhythm. They were no longer just a passing annoyance; each one came with a bit more intensity and lasted long enough to make her adjust her posture in the seat. When she finally reached the parking lot of the mall, the pressure in her belly was unmistakable. She maneuvered the car carefully, looking for a spot near the entrance. Just as she turned the wheel to park, a sudden and fierce contraction hit her hard.

“MMMH…!” She gasped, gripping the steering wheel with both hands.

The pain spread throughout her abdomen, leaving her momentarily paralyzed. She shut her eyes tightly, feeling her body tense up completely. Her breathing became erratic as she waited for the wave to pass. But then, a muffled sound and a strange sense of relief surprised her.

An instant later, she felt a sudden warmth and wetness spreading between her legs. The tight fabric of her jeans soaked through in an instant, and a shiver ran down her back. Amelia opened her eyes, stunned, her heart pounding in her chest. She looked down and saw the clear liquid beginning to darken the fabric of her black jeans, trickling down to the car seat.

She was thankful, at least, for choosing black pants; they hid what had just happened quite well. However, the reality was undeniable: her water had broken, and things were progressing faster than she had anticipated.

A sigh escaped her lips as she rested her head against the car headrest. "It wasn’t my best idea to go out..." she thought, but since she was already there, she wasn’t going to leave empty-handed. She still needed supplies, and as long as she could walk, she would make the most of the time.

She mustered up some courage and opened the car door. As soon as her feet hit the ground and she stood up, a new contraction hit her hard, making her bend slightly and let out a soft gasp of pain.

“Ahhhh ooohhhh...” She exhaled, closing her eyes and leaning on the door to steady herself.

The change in pressure as she stood up made the sensation intensify. Her belly felt tense, as hard as a rock, and the sharp pain in her back spread to her hips. She took a deep breath, forcing herself to regain composure. "Just go in, buy quickly, and go home," she told herself, though deep down she knew her time was running out.

Amelia slowly made her way to the mall entrance, forcing a smile as she tried to ignore the growing discomfort. Each step she took was like a reminder of what was happening inside her body. The contractions were coming more frequently now, and every time the pressure increased, she could feel the baby pushing downward, pressing against her cervix, slowly dilating it. It was as if her body was preparing the ground for what was inevitably going to happen.

As she crossed the threshold of the baby supply store, a new contraction hit her. This time, it wasn’t just an annoyance; the pain concentrated in her pelvis and lower abdomen. Amelia briefly leaned on the shopping cart, gripping it tightly to stay upright. Her eyes closed for a moment as she took a deep breath, and when the contraction passed, she continued on her way, although the discomfort was growing more than she would like to admit.

She began walking through the aisles, quickly picking up what she needed. Gauze, towels, a couple of essential oils... everything she thought would be useful during the home birth. But with every item she put in the cart, the pressure became more unbearable. Each contraction hit her with a new force, and, unintentionally, the pain intensified more and more.

As she bent down to grab a pack of wipes from the lowest shelf, a wave of pain made her stop. The baby seemed to push downward, and the effort of bending down accelerated the process. Amelia clenched her teeth, letting out a stifled sigh. She could feel the weight of the contraction pressing against her cervix, as if it were slowly opening, dilating at its own pace.

When she straightened up, the next contraction hit her harder. The pain ran through her from head to toe, and a sudden heat made her sweat. She leaned against the shelf, breathing heavily as she tried to relax. Every movement, every breath, seemed to make the baby push more and more. The pressure in her pelvis increased, and she knew she didn’t have much time left.

She tried to focus, ignoring the sharp pain that made her feel as though her whole body were giving way. She needed to be prepared, and that could only happen if she collected what she still needed. However, as she bent down again to grab a pack of diapers, she felt as though something inside her was giving way. A sharp pain pierced through her, and her body reacted on its own, pushing forcefully against her cervix, opening it even more.

"Come on, Amelia," she told herself, forcing herself to stay focused. But as she stood up, a new wave of pain almost made her drop to her knees. The process was accelerating, and with every contraction, she felt like her body was pushing her closer to that imminent moment. Every time she bent down, the pain increased, but all she could think about was finishing what she had started, making sure everything was ready when the time came. However, with every movement, the contractions became more intense, and Amelia knew that the birth was not far off. She could no longer ignore it: her babies were already on their way.

Amelia took another step, but this time, the sensation was different. Something changed inside her. The pressure increased to such an extent that, in the middle of a more intense contraction, she felt a strange and definitive sensation. It wasn’t just pressure, nor pain... It was the first baby moving, advancing. She could clearly feel her child’s head passing through her cervix and beginning to descend into the birth canal.

 The calm she had managed to maintain up until that point completely shattered. She could no longer ignore what was happening: her baby was about to be born. Her heart rate sped up, and the pain intensified with the feeling that something inevitable was happening inside her.

 “No, no, no... not yet,” she thought, trying to keep her composure. She knew she had to make it to the car... no... she needed to get home, to prepare. But the contractions kept coming stronger and closer together, as if her body wasn’t giving her an option. Gravity and her own body seemed to be pushing the baby out without her consent.

She took a breath, inhaled deeply, but the contraction overwhelmed her, and that’s when she felt it: the baby’s head, pushing hard against her vaginal lips. It wasn’t crowning yet, it wasn’t fully out, but there it was, between her lips, waiting to come out.

When she finally reached the checkout, the cashier looked at her, probably unaware of what was happening. His hand was in no hurry to scan the items, and Amelia, unable to control the increasing pressure she felt in her abdomen, began to panic. Every second she stood there, her legs slightly apart to try to relieve herself, was only making the situation worse. The baby was already too low, and her body seemed to be pushing on its own, regardless of the place or the moment.

Amelia, gritting her teeth, tried to keep her composure, but it was impossible. While the cashier, unaware of her suffering, continued with his work, an uncontrollable urge began to course through her body. She opened her legs slightly, almost without realizing it, and without making a sound, she began to push. The pressure increased, along with the burning sensation. Her baby’s head began to stretch her vaginal lips, as if it wanted to come out right away, pushing with every contraction, causing the tight fabric of her jeans to bulge. It was as if her body was on the verge of exploding.

More and more difficult to ignore, Amelia felt her vagina stretching, the burn of the pressure, and the increasing tension in her muscles made her fear what was about to happen. She was on the verge of giving in, of making the big push she needed to bring her first baby into the world. But just at that moment, the young cashier, with his monotonous voice, told her the total.

“That’ll be 82.50…” the cashier said, looking up at her.

Amelia, stunned and with the sharp pain in her body, somehow managed to focus. This couldn’t happen here. She couldn’t give birth in the middle of a mall, surrounded by strangers. She needed to get out of there, at least make it to her car.

With a stifled cry of pain, she squeezed her legs together with all her strength, trying to delay the inevitable. The baby slightly retreated, moving away from the exit with the pressure of the movement. But it didn’t last long; the sensation was so intense that she could barely control her body.

Quickly, still trembling, she extended her hand and handed the card to the cashier, breathing heavily. Her face was pale, cold sweat running down her forehead as she struggled to maintain her composure.

"Here it is..." she managed to say, almost through gritted teeth, hoping the transaction would finish quickly, even though she knew her body couldn’t wait much longer.

Amelia took her items from the counter with trembling hands, feeling time slipping through her fingers. Every movement was a reminder of what her body was about to do. The pain was unbearable, but she still managed to drag herself toward the exit, taking deep breaths as she fought to keep her composure. However, with each step, the pressure began to increase again. The baby pushed hard, and Amelia could feel her vaginal lips opening once more, stretching with every step. The burning was unbearable.

She stopped for a moment, leaning against a column near the mall entrance, breathing heavily. The pain was so strong, so palpable, that it seemed impossible to keep going. But she couldn’t give up. There was only one last effort left: get to her car.

With superhuman strength, she made her way to the parking lot. Upon reaching her vehicle, she threw the bags into the back seat with a swift motion. Her trembling hand gripped the door frame as she tried to sit in the driver's seat, her legs shaking. The urge to push was so strong that she almost gave in to the pressure. She could feel the baby’s head pushing again, and she knew she couldn’t wait much longer.

“No, Amelia, hold on... just a little longer...” she told herself. As she sat down, the feeling of urgency engulfed her completely. The baby seemed determined to come, and the urge to push grew stronger than ever. However, Amelia forced herself to think of home, the place where she wanted to give birth, not here, in her car. Desperately, she buckled her seatbelt and started the car, knowing she had to get home as quickly as possible.

But the baby had no intention of waiting.

As soon as she started driving, the pain increased, and the pressure became almost unbearable. With every movement of her body, the baby pushed downward, advancing rapidly. Amelia let out a soft scream, holding her breath as she drove. At every red light, the contraction hit her hard, and she gasped, trying not to push, struggling to hold the baby in as much as possible. At every stop, she felt the baby’s head moving further down, the crown beginning to form, causing an extreme burning sensation in her intimate area.

The tight jeans she was wearing bulged with each movement of the baby, and the pressure was briefly relieved by the fabric that kept the crown from fully emerging. But that relief was only momentary, because the baby kept pushing, advancing, getting closer to the exit.

Each contraction tore at her, and the urge to push became more and more irresistible. She was alone, trapped in her car, and the thought of waiting until she reached home seemed like an unrealistic fantasy.

With acute pain coursing through her, Amelia felt the need to do something to relieve the pressure. With trembling hands, she unbuttoned her tight jeans. The movement allowed her a small respite, and without thinking further, she decided that, at the very least, she could help advance the process. She could no longer stop it.

She breathed deeply, looking at the road with determination. "Just the head," she told herself, "just the head, then I'll make it home." She felt how the baby was pushing with force, as if it knew it was time.

With a muffled cry, she pushed with all the strength her body allowed, a deep, urgent push. She felt how the pressure increased, how her vaginal lips stretched to the maximum, and the burning in her intimate area intensified. The baby wasn't waiting; it was descending rapidly, and Amelia could do nothing but follow her instinct.

Suddenly, the sensation of burning in her vaginal lips reached its peak, and with one last effort, her baby's head finally emerged. A momentary relief washed over her, although the pain didn't disappear completely. The crowning was complete, and the weight of her baby's head was between her legs.

Amelia, with her baby's head now completely out, breathed with difficulty, her breaths short and labored, but relieved for a moment. She couldn't believe what she had accomplished: her baby's head was now between her legs, so close to being fully born. Despite the pain, she felt a slight respite, but she knew the work wasn't over yet. The baby was still pushing, and the shoulders wouldn't be long in coming.

With her body burning from the pressure, Amelia moved slightly in her seat, cautiously opening her legs. Each movement made her feel the baby's head between her thighs, pushing outward, and although a sense of relief washed over her at times, she knew she still had much to do. She adjusted her body in the seat, doing everything possible to continue driving while the pain kept growing.

The road seemed to never end, but with her agitated breathing and her body focused on the task, Amelia managed to reach her home. Upon arriving at the garage, she couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief at seeing she had reached her destination. But she couldn't relax yet; the contractions continued, and now she felt the pressure of her baby's shoulders pushing through her birth canal, very close to coming out.

With a supreme effort, Amelia got out of the car. Feeling as if she was about to lose control, she walked quickly towards her front door, doing everything possible to stay upright. She felt the baby's head still there, resting between her legs, and with each step, the baby's shoulders seemed to be getting closer.

With one hand, she cupped the baby's head to prevent it from coming out completely as she walked toward the door. She knew she couldn’t let it all happen before reaching the living room, where she felt safer. She walked quickly, breathing heavily, and grabbed what was left of the items in the back seat of her car. Her mind was focused on one thing: getting to her space.

When she opened the door to her house, she felt one last wave of pressure. She had to get to the living room. She felt her legs stay apart, held open by the force of the baby who still wouldn’t wait, but she couldn’t afford to waste time. Finally, she crossed the threshold of the living room and, unable to close her legs due to the pain and urgency of the moment, she went straight to a drawer where she had kept a pair of sewing scissors.

With trembling hands, she took them and, with the little control she had left, cut her tight jeans. The immediate relief she felt by relieving the pressure on her abdomen was brief, as the next contraction hit her with full force.

Now that her jeans were cut, Amelia leaned on the table in the living room, breathing deeply. She had no time to rest; she knew she couldn’t wait any longer. Amidst the pain, with her legs spread and the baby pushing hard, she gave the final push while standing. The shoulders and the rest of her baby came out of her body in an agonizing effort, and at last, Amelia’s first child was here.

Amelia, exhausted but overwhelmed with a mixture of relief and emotion, caught her baby the moment it fully emerged. The baby's cry filled the room, and her heart overflowed with joy. With a tired smile, she knelt on the floor, her trembling legs unable to bear the weight of her body any longer. She placed the baby on her chest, feeling the warmth and fragility of its tiny body.

It was a perfect moment, but it wouldn’t last long. Although her first child had already been born, Amelia knew there were still two more to come. The contractions began again, firm and painful, signaling the arrival of the next baby. The relief of having given birth to her first child was brief, and the pain returned with force. Amelia knew what she had to do: cut the cord of the baby already in her arms.

With trembling hands, but determined, Amelia took the scissors and cut the umbilical cord of her first baby. Then, carefully, she wrapped the little one in a soft blanket, cuddling it as the cries subsided. She held it close, providing warmth and love, all the while feeling the pressure in her belly intensify once more.

Still kneeling on the floor, with her first baby breastfeeding gently, Amelia could feel fatigue overtaking her body, but her maternal instincts wouldn’t let her give up. As her son nursed delicately, the contractions returned with renewed force. The pressure in her abdomen grew, and at the same time, the urge to push became even more urgent.

Although her body was exhausted, Amelia knew she couldn’t wait. The second baby was already descending, pushing downward rapidly. Unable to stop, she began pushing with everything she had, tightening her abdominal muscles as she felt the head of her second baby slowly descending, entering the birth canal.

The pain didn’t go away, but Amelia endured it, focused on each breath, each push. The sensation of the baby’s head moving down was similar to what she had experienced before, but this time, the pressure was even more intense. Suddenly, she felt the head of the second baby beginning to brush against her vaginal lips, the burning sensation returning as her body pushed it further down.

Amelia knew she couldn't keep pushing with her first baby still in her arms. Although the little one had stopped crying for a moment and was peacefully nursing on her chest, she felt her body was elsewhere, completely focused on what was coming next. The need to push the second baby was becoming more intense, and although her body begged for rest, she couldn't avoid it.

With an exhausting effort, Amelia gently laid the baby on the carpet, ensuring he was comfortable and safe for a moment. She felt an impulse to continue, not to lose the rhythm, so she sat down, pulling her legs towards her chest in an attempt to find a position that would help her. The pain in her abdomen was unbearable, but her instinct told her she had to keep going. Her hands frantically scanned her belly, caressing and gently pressing, trying to alleviate the pressure she felt, but the pain persisted, stronger than ever.

As the pain reached its peak, Amelia focused on each contraction, each push. The sensation of burning was intense, similar to what she had experienced with her first baby, but this time, she was much closer to giving birth. The baby was descending rapidly, pushing with force as time advanced and her body responded to each natural impulse.

With a few more pushes, Amelia felt partial relief, and with a burst, the head of the second baby emerged from her body suddenly, breaking the water sac that still enveloped it. The water shot out, soaking her legs and the carpet around her, while the baby's head crowned completely. Amelia could feel the softness of the head and the pressure decreased slightly as the baby's shoulders began to slide out of her.

Just moments later, the baby's shoulders passed completely, and the body quickly followed. The little one gently fell onto the carpet, wrapped in his own fluids, as Amelia collapsed onto the floor, exhausted but relieved. The cry of the second baby filled the room, and a deep sigh of happiness escaped Amelia's lips. She was tired, but happy, gazing at the little one who had just entered the world.

Amelia, exhausted but with her heart full of love, looked at her two newborn children—one in her arms, the other curled beside her on the carpet. Despite everything that had just happened, all the pain, she felt a profound gratitude. The process had been long and grueling, but she had already given birth to two of her three little ones. Now, the silence granted her a brief respite.

The contractions had stopped, and for a moment, Amelia could savor the calm, the stillness surrounding her. The feeling of having gone through so much and still standing, with her children by her side, was overwhelming. Despite her aching body and the exhaustion weighing heavily on her, she allowed herself to breathe deeply.

With trembling hands, she wrapped her second baby in a soft blanket, gently stroking his little face as she cradled him. She placed him beside her first child, watching as they both slept peacefully, unaware of the torment she had just endured. She smiled weakly, satisfied and relieved after this first step in her journey of motherhood.

About 15 minutes passed, just enough time for Amelia's fatigue to begin to take its toll. However, she could not ignore the signals her body was sending her once again. A sharp pain coursed through her, a reminder that it wasn’t over yet. The terrible cramps returned, more intense than before, and Amelia knew it was only a matter of time before the third baby would arrive.

She wasn't worried, but resigned. She had already gone through so much and had managed to get this far. With a sigh, she prepared herself for what was left to come. She couldn't let fear or fatigue defeat her. She got into a position on all fours, which gave her a bit more control over the cramps and the increasing pressure. She moved her hips from side to side, seeking a rhythm that would alleviate her and, at the same time, facilitate the arrival of the third baby.

She knew that only one was left. She had already given birth twice, endured indescribable pain, and if she had been able to do that, she could face whatever was left. She focused on the sensations in her body, knowing this was the last step. Amelia had come so far. Just one more baby and the torment would end. Her last water broke in a matter of seconds, and the baby was already coming.

Amelia, in the position on all fours, began to push with all the energy she had left. However, as the head of the third baby approached, something felt different. The pain was more intense, deeper, and the pressure was increasing rapidly. This time it wasn't like the first two. The head was much larger, the size was a challenge, and Amelia felt it in every fiber of her being.

The burning she felt at the beginning of this push was much more acute, and the sensation of distension made her shudder. The pressure in her abdomen became unbearable, and the pain was so deep that she couldn't help but let out a low, almost muffled cry. She knew her body had to adapt to the new demand, but the feeling of being on the verge of breaking hit her with every passing second.

In a desperate attempt to help her body manage the process, Amelia extended her hand, searching for the oil she had bought minutes earlier at the store, hoping it could alleviate some of the burning and tension she felt. With trembling fingers, she took a small amount and rubbed it over her vaginal lips, trying to soothe the stretched skin. The sensation of the cold oil on her fingers gave her a brief distraction, but she knew she needed it for what was coming.

With the softness of the oil, she began to massage and open her lips to the sides, hoping that somehow this would help allow the baby's head to pass with less resistance. The pressure in her body was unbearable, but Amelia clung to the hope that this simple act could make a difference.

The head of the third baby was pushing with force, and Amelia, between short gasps, continued to open with her fingers. She knew that if she could make the head advance more easily, she could end the pain and uncertainty she felt at that moment. However, the effort was titanic, and the contractions became more intense, one after another, without rest.

With a final and wrenching cry of pain, the enormous head of the third baby finally emerged, breaking the tension throughout her body. Amelia remained there, panting deeply, with her heart beating hard and sweat covering her forehead. Her hands, trembling but full of determination, extended downward and touched the warm head of her baby, which rested between her legs. The relief was immediate, though momentary, because she knew she still had to face the challenge of the shoulders.

With each breath, the pressure increased, and Amelia struggled to find air while her body begged for rest. But she couldn't afford it yet. She prepared herself for what was coming, her hands caressing the baby's head as she pushed once more, with all the strength she had left.

The shoulders, as large as the head, began to emerge with difficulty, and Amelia felt an explosion of relief when the entire body of her child finally came out of her. The feeling of liberation was indescribable, as if all the weight of the world had disappeared from her shoulders.

With the last push, it was all over. Amelia stayed there, exhausted, with trembling legs and a body covered in sweat, looking at her third child. She had given birth to three babies, three new beings that filled her heart with indescribable joy.

The pain, although present in every corner of her body, had given way to a feeling of gratitude and peace. All the effort, the suffering, and the hours of labor had been worth it. With a tired but deep smile, Amelia looked at her three children, and she knew that everything was done.

The End.

[saphronethaleph]

The Deal

“Only through me can you achieve a power greater than any Jedi,” Palpatine said. “Learn to know the dark side of the Force, Anakin, and you will be able to save your wife from certain death.”

“What did you say?” Anakin asked.

“Use my knowledge, I beg you…” Palpatine pleaded.

“You’re a Sith Lord!” Anakin said.

He reached for his lightsaber, then paused.

“That story you told, about Darth Plagueis,” he said. “You mean – that was true? He really did discover a way to save people from death?”

“Yes, Anakin,” Palpatine agreed. “And I will-”

“So,” Anakin interrupted, frowning. “How do you know it? You said his apprentice murdered him in his sleep.”

“Because he taught everything to… his apprentice… before dying,” Palpatine explained.

“Again,” Anakin said, patiently. “How do you know it?”

“I was that apprentice!” Palpatine explained.

“So you killed your master in his sleep, and you ordered me to kill your apprentice, Dooku,” Anakin said. “You know, Chancellor, this isn’t a great job offer.”

“But think of what you have to gain, Anakin,” Palpatine said. “I can save your wife. Isn’t that what matters?”

“...yeah,” Anakin agreed, still frowning. “So when did Plagueis die?”

“About… fifteen years ago, now?” Palpatine said. “Maybe sixteen? Something like that. Why does that matter?”

“Just wanting to make sure I’ve got all the information, Chancellor,” Anakin replied. “Who have you been healing? Because I don’t actually think you’ve got any loved ones.”

He made a face. “Obi-Wan once took me aside and told me about what to look out for when an older man was going to try and touch me in the wrong way.”

“You see?” Palpatine asked. “He doesn’t trust you!”

“I see his point, though,” Anakin said. “Because you don’t have any loved ones that I can think of, like I say… so who have you been healing?”

Palpatine frowned.

“...why does that matter, Anakin?” he asked.

“Because it sounds like you learned how to do this at least fifteen years ago and you’ve never actually tried it,” Anakin clarified. “Which really sounds like you can’t do it, or even if you could before your medical license has expired.”

“I most certainly can!” Palpatine said, his patience fraying slightly. “Anakin, I am trying to help you!”

“Okay, then,” Anakin replied. “Teach me now.”

Palpatine made a face.

“If I do that, then how will I know you won’t betray me?” he said.

“...you’re saying that the only thing that would keep me from betraying you is if you don’t teach me the healing technique,” Anakin said, nodding. “So you’ve got no reason to get around to teaching me. I know how to lure an Eopie, Chancellor.”

“It will take too long to teach you, anyway,” Palpatine declared. “We can’t do it tonight. It won’t fit.”

“You’re really trying to help me, huh?” Anakin said. “Because all the visions I’ve been having about my wife dying are about it happening soon…”

He stopped.

“Actually, how do you know about that? I don’t think I ever told you.”

“Oh, please, it’s obvious that you’re married-” Palpatine said, rolling his eyes.

“I mean about the certain death bit,” Anakin explained. “It’s a bit of a guess.”

He frowned, visibly thinking. “And, uh… okay, so what you’re saying is that… you’re a Sith, you want to take direct control of the Jedi, and that’s because of the war against the Separatists, who were led by Count Dooku. Who was your apprentice… and then for me, personally, you want me to turn to the Dark Side so you can teach me a healing technique you’ve never actually used yourself, while you’ve killed the last two people who worked directly with you the moment they were no longer useful to you.”

Palpatine looked pained.

“That’s a very negative attitude, Anakin,” he said.

“I want to make sure I’ve got all this straight, is all,” Anakin replied.

Mace Windu’s commlink beeped, in a specific pattern that indicated it was a member of the Council.

“Windu here,” he said, raising the device to his ear.

“Master, I quit,” Anakin told him. “Also I married Senator Amidala at the start of the war, Palpatine was the Sith Lord, and I’d quite like to sleep for a week at some point. I’ve had a very long day.”

“...what?” Mace asked, a bit overloaded himself.

“Like, I’m pretty sure my day has had the sun go down three times so far,” Anakin went on. “Also the Chancellor exploded when I killed him. It’s okay, he was shooting lightning at me, that makes it fair.”

[lostintransist]

Secrets Are For Grown Ups | Part 3

CW: Paperwork. I hate paperwork.

Shout out to the fabulous @xbirdiex. It's better than reading my words for the first time because she is so good at articulting to me how everything makes her feel.

Part 1 here.

John pulled off his glasses before rubbing his eyes so hard the kaleidoscope of colors blurred his vision for seconds after he blinked to clear them. He needed to retire. The years of being trapped at a desk and only let out for training had sapped him of the will to continue. He had given the greater good all that he could, but if one more file got sent to him as half digital half paper copy he would start launching things out the window or possibly set his office ablaze.

He had stayed longer than he should have again but the frozen dish of lasagna and beer at his flat did not entice him home. The trill of his ringing phone pulled him from his languorous thoughts. Number hadn’t been saved in his phone. Odd. The same tickle in his brain that saved him on countless missions twitched now. Answering it in silence he waited.

“Is this Captain Price?”

“Not a captain anymore, but this is Price. May I ask who is calling?”

The woman on the other end blew out a breath.

“I worked with you several years back on a visa from the US. I’m not sure if you remember me,” her tone indicated a question as she searched for more words.

John could only remember one such woman in his time as a captain. You popped into his mind in technicolor.

“I do remember. I haven’t heard from you since you left for your family emergency. Has something come up?”

He swore he could feel you vacillating on the other end of the line. You had been so painfully expressive in your communications the year you had worked for him. For you to call out of the blue after so many years, something had to be wrong.

“Yes. You could say that.” You blow out a slow breath before continuing. “This is a…a bit of a long story. Do you have a moment?”

Settling back into his office chair with a creak John gets more comfortable.

“For you, I can take all day.”

Leave had been approved fairly quickly. John had an overabundance of it that brass and the HR and accounting teams hounded him about taking. They all claimed it made their jobs harder if he let it build up so high. He could take off six months without putting a dent in his overall amount of leave. Also if he weren’t there to bitch about the paperwork brass would more likely pass it off to someone else.

Last-minute flights were a pain in the ass to schedule as well as to pay for but like everything else in his life money tended to pile up because he rarely had time to spend it. John packed the same way he would for a long mission, though this time he packed his good underwear. You had offered to let him stay with you after he provided the contact information for one Nyla MacTavish.

His phone rang as he zipped up his large suitcase. Glancing at the name John wished he had a cigar to add a hint of nicotine-laced clarity to his thoughts. Flicking open his phone with a thumb John lifted it to his ear.

“Been expecting your call.”

“That’s never a good way to start a conversation, John.”

“I agree. Now tell me what happened?”

“Did you know?” The quiet, pained question could bore through bone. Simon, one of his muppets, his strongest men, sounded on the point of tears.

“Not until a few hours ago,” pinching the phone between his ear and his shoulder John settled his wheeled luggage on the floor.

“Good,” Simon repeated it to himself as if confirming his belief in John stood strong. “I had to dose Johnny with part of an edible he didn’t know we had in the house. He wanted to break down her door for answers.”

The idea of Simon handing Johnny an innocuous candy or baked good to dose him into a stupor that wouldn’t lead to criminal charges caught John as funny.

“I think your husband is going to have something to say about that in the morning.”

Simon snorted, “Knowing him he is going to have a lot more than a single thing to say.”

“Mmm, you might be right.” John paused to lock his flat door behind him. “Give me twenty-four hours Simon. I am headed to the airport right now and out to you.”

“Did she invite you or are you coming to keep us in line?” Simon’s voice edged into Ghost territory.

“For your information, I was invited,” John replied, mock offended.

“You would have come anyway.”

John could hear the rolling of his eyes even across the line.

“Yes, but this way I get to meet your boys and don’t have to pay for a hotel.”

Simon sucked in a breath.

“Boys? We thought she had a boy and a girl.”

“Nope, she clearly referred to them as the boys or her boys.”

A wet cough cleared the phone line.

“Okay. Let us know when we can meet with her and discuss this all.” Simon sounded defeated, unmoored.

“Are you wanting her back?” John asked carefully as he stepped onto the street to wait for his cab.

“Not…not like before. Johnny and I are happy as we are, but if the boys are either of ours we both want to be involved. We deserve that much.”

John didn’t know if the word deserved had any place in this sticky of a situation but he let it slide. That would be for you to explain.

“I will see you in a day or so, Simon. Keep your husband on a short leash until I get there. We both know explosions from Johnny weren’t only from bombs.”

A light chuckle from Simon is the only warning before the call ends. John sighs through his nose as he tucks his phone away.

What a hell of a story this would turn out to be.

Part 4

Secrets Masterlist | Masterlist

@love-kha1 @bdbdhshhs @persephone-kore-law @vmaxis @splaterparty0-0 @momowhoo @talia-the-gemini @redkarmakai @aethelwyneleigh27 @asexualbuthorny

[mischiefmaker615]

Use Me (Loki Love Story) Ch. 1

Summary: Loki shows up at your brothel with an offer. What could go wrong?

Note: What started as a one shot, led to something bigger. (oops Lol)

Requested song inspiration: Use Me by Johnny Blue Skies & Dove Cameron & Diplo

Requester: @bri_lostinharmony (wattpad)

Rating: R

The only sound in the room was the wood creaking under the pressure of your fingers, stabilizing yourself while your heart seemed to stop and your eyed lied to you. There was no way in Hel he was here.. your breathing seemed to stare the same pace with your heart, feeling light headed to whom stood before you with a pointed finger and a careful look in his eye.

‘’that one.’’

His tone was sharp and left no room for questions. Of course, no one would dare to question or deny him anyway, he was Loki after all, second prince of Asgard, and if he wanted something, he would get it.

‘’yes my Lord, right away- let me just clean her up for yo-‘’ your head mistress started, daring to begin standing between you and Loki before he seemed to easily wave her off.

‘’no need, she will do as is. Any necessary actions can to done by me.’’ Loki said carefully, this entire time his eyes not having left yours while your already sore legs began shaking.

How could he be here.. out of all brothels.. this was impossible! You had specifically chosen out the farthest one in the city of Asgard to avoid this damn risk. Yet you didn’t realize the one whom you would run into that you knew, was Loki. Of course, you had no special relationship with each other. You were one of his maids in the palace, paid decent and treated better. Yet.. you wished for better things for yourself, and better things meant needing more money. It was unheard of to ask for more pay, so you took on the second job- and the only job that would hire you.

It was hard at first, being treated and seen as a whore.. technically you are. But you always told yourself it was for the greater good, to reach that goal you were SO close on reaching! But that chance might have practically shattered right in front of you while the second prince of Asgard took slow steps forward, his eyes seeming to wait and expect for you to lead the way.

Was it treason? No.. but quite possibly an insult to be found out you had gotten a second job. An insult and seen as ungrateful to the palace. You didn’t expect anyone to understand.. you needed to leave here.. but would Loki do something? Would he see you as ungrateful for your place in the palace with the need to have to get a second job and choose to cast you out? you didn’t want to think about that.. for once, your body’s soreness acted like a distraction from your thoughts while you dropped your eyes and turned around.

‘He's just another client..’ you told yourself while you started up the stairs, having a strong feeling his eyes were on your ass, which somehow made the simple dress feel a whole lot thinner. The wood creaked slightly louder behind you, indicating he was much taller and heavier than you were, granted he also came in wearing his royal armor- except his helmet.

It wasn’t uncommon to hear or see royals come to the brothels, usually in groups but sometimes alone. Loki had very little stories of him appearing at one of these places- most rumors indicated he preferred bringing them back to bed them in the palace instead. Your cheeks reddened at the very thought about having to sleep with him… would it be awkward back at the palace? Would rumors start? Would this be painful? Your mind ran a hundred miles a minute, you mis stepped and began falling forward. Before embarrassment could consume you, you felt two slender hands grasp firmly at your waist to stabilize you, making you nearly yelp in surprise and straightened quickly.

The hands vanished from your body as quickly as they had appeared, you nearly missed him murmur “careful”. His voice was quiet, almost as if he were trying to keep the words a secret but there was no authority or anger in his voice. The unexpectedness of it alone nearly frightened you while you opened a door and stepped inside of the dark, empty room with him following.

‘’I am curious on why you find this extra income necessary.’’ His voice finally said, loud enough where there way no doubt you had heard him and your squeezed your eyes shut, finally landing on the topic you wished to avoid.

You knew this was probably the end. You’ve insulted the royals with your ungratefulness and felt yourself spinning around, your head low in a mid-bow with your hands clasping each other in a pleading position. ‘’I’m sorry my prince- it was never my intention to insult the royal-‘’

Loki’s raised palm made you shut up, an amused look on his face spread upon his features while you shook his head. ‘’what you do in your spare time is none of my concern love, I am merely wishing to know if you are being mistreated and try to find other means of supporting yourself.’’

You blinked at him in surprise. To be honest, if one was mistreated at the palace, a snitch was better off banished. Yet his concern was.. unexpected. Why would he care? ‘’no no.. I am treated very well at the palace your majesty.. I am merely trying to earn enough for- something..’’ you then slowed your words, unsure if you’ve shared to much or if he cared to know.

‘’well do to your pay at the palace, it would seem it is not merely the amount that is the problem, but the quickness of it. Do to the fact that we have abundance in everything, my only guess is that you wish to leave. Asgard.’’ He guessed, having made his way around the room to look around and held back his judgmental expression.

The room was dimly lit, the sunlight being toned down by the heavy curtains over the windows. The bed was simple, small and in the center of the room and that was all. thin sheets, and metal railings to make up for the headboard. You almost felt as judgy as he might have been- a royal coming to some sad shack like this. There was no way in Hel he was this horny to come down to this level.. which meant-

‘’why are you here?” you blurted out, your hands clasping over your mouth to late where he casually turned to face you while unclasping his cape from his shoulders.

‘’isn’t it obvious?” be mused, making you blush with the reminder and glanced down, not daring asking any more questions but he seemed to reach your mind anyway while he lay his cape aside at the foot of the bed.

‘’I had a day off, court had ended sooner than usual.’’

You raised a confused brow as you looked at him, hands slowly lowering back to your sides while he sat himself on the bed, clearly amused by your wonderings and lack of speech- or daring of it. Day off or not, he could have bedded anyone in the palace- willingly or not, let alone a better brothel.

‘’I followed you.’’

‘’you- ..you followed me?” you almost choked out, clearly confused and shyness consuming your body once he reached out a hand towards you. You hadn’t felt shy in such a long time, not after your new job had numbed you to the bone. Yet Loki.. Loki always tended to have that affect on you, and he knew it.

‘’come here,’’ he said gently, and you felt your feet begin to slowly move forward while your dainty hand reached out to take his, letting him pull you the rest of the way until you stood between him legs with his eyes gazing up at you. ‘’hold still.’’

Your job was to do what your client required, paid for.. frankly, he might actually get the service for free considering who he was. You didn’t dare move, not even as his hand moved to grasp your hip, keeping you still while the other moved up to lay flat against your chest. You were unsure if this was some start of foreplay, but with a sharp inhale, you noticed how he had closed his eyes with a concentrated expression. Your skin then began to feel tingly everywhere, panic threatening to make you move if you didn’t remind yourself to obey.

You decided to close your eyes, to wait to further instruction while you pondered on the strange feeling that seemed to crawl over your skin. Suddenly you noticed the soreness spread over your body seemed to be disappearing. Any gross residue or filth you took note of seemed to vanish with no lingering feeling. It’s as if you were in the bath without water, and a healing ointment you usually got when you returned to the palace- but netter.

When the strange feeling subsided, you exhaled a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding while your shoulders seemed to relax. Fluttering your eyes down, your body tensed to find Loki smirking up at you, his eyes gentle but looking smug at you relishing in his ability to clean and heal you.

‘’feeling well?”

‘’y-yes my prince.. thank you..’’

‘’my prince,’’ he echoed, amusement in his voice as his hands released you so he could lay back on the bed with his elbows propping himself up to continue looking at you. ‘’I was unaware of how possessive you could be.’’

‘’that’s not-‘’ you stopped yourself, daring not to correct the prince whom you guessed had been merely jesting and instead buried your restless fingers to play with your dress fabric at your sides. ‘’..how may I service you my prince?”

‘’I want you to go back to the palace with me.’’

Your eyes went wide as your body tensed again. You clearly didn’t intend on looking stupid at him while you stuttered out a ‘’what?-‘’ when you clearly heard him, but the amused look on his handsome face also made it hard to process things.

‘’I want you to go back to the palace, with me.’’ He said a little more slowly, as if he wasn’t clear enough while he drank in every expression he pulled out of you.

‘’..my Lord.. I.. just cant leave my seco-‘’

‘’you do not need to whore yourself to gain money more quickly Y/N, you will be paid fairly to your needs at my hand.’’

‘’at.. your hand?”

‘’you will be my personal whore, no one else’s until you see fit it is time to venture where you wish to escape too.’’ He said it so smoothly, it’s as if there was no ounce of insult in his words.

His.. personal whore? To be bedded by him and only him, no one else.. you weren’t even sure what sex was like with him in the first place- although it was granted to me much better than all the pigs combined that stumbled in here. You hoped.. but you still weren’t sure of his sudden offer..

‘’my prince i.. my job here is to service yo-‘’

‘’yes, and I wish to service you.’’ Loki said firmly, yet gentle. This brought out a puzzled look on your face which only brought out a smirk on his own while he extended a hand out to you. ‘’I have a proposal then. Let me service you, here.. right now.. if you are satisfied, you are to return with me, quit this job and receive the funds necessary back at the palace while being my one and only whore. When and wherever I want, no one else. If you are dissatisfied, I shall pay you for your time here as a regular customer, and leave you be to your second income inhabitance like I never had set eyes on you. Do we have a deal?”

You were shaking now, beyond red cheeked and mind spinning. This could very well send you much faster to leaving Asgard.. -but why you? Your eyes lift to look at him, hesitant but careful while he gazed at you with no impatience or amusement. They held nothing but.. softness.

‘’..why me? You could bed anyone yo-‘’

‘’they are not you darling.’’ he cut you off, shaking his head with a soft voice. ‘’my eyes only find you. My mind only thinks of you. My body only craves you. I often find myself purposely crossing your path with eagerness to get to see you. Court granted me a blessing today, and allowed me to follow you. Yes it may have been unwanted, but your safety was all of my concern. It indeed shocked me to find out where you passed your time.’’ He almost tsked you, yet you found no judgement on his face while your eyes fluttered down to his offered hand.

‘’dare I ask again darling, it is all your decision.’’

Your teeth captured your bottom lip, finding truly no downside to any of this yet your mind reminded you of what he was. A trickster.

Yet you took his hand anyway. 

The rest of the chapters can be found on my Masterlist!

DM a song for your own Loki Musical Mischief one shot :D

Tag List: @foxherder13 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @fire-in-her-veinz @nervouseden @kathren1sky-blog @eleniblue @lokiswife-dark-fox-queen @queenofstarsign85 @slytherinqueen4life @soulpiercing

[dallina17]

Neither like nor dislike: Attraction

A JinMao LN1 analysis

So I was supposed to write this after reading the apothecary diaries light novel 1 but life happened and I already finished the second one. Still, I wanted to write this. I have seen plenty of fight over if MaoMao likes Jinshi or not. I kinda understand where they both are coming from. Because yes, MaoMao doesn't like whenever Jinshi gets too close to her in many instances, both the light novel and the anime.

—The apothecary diaries, Season 1 Episode 1

Gaoshun politely fetched any medicines that were in drawers too high for Maomao to reach. His superior, meanwhile, did nothing. Maomao maintained a neutral expression but privately wished that if he wasn’t going to make himself useful, he would go away.

—The apothecary diaries LN 1 - Chapter 8, Love Potion.

—The apothecary diaries, Season 1 Episode 2

After Consort Lishu had withdrawn, Maomao sensed an almost viscous atmosphere behind her, and finally felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned a cold look on the hand’s owner; it would have been better had she looked at him the way she might look at an earthworm.

“I am but base, and wish you would not touch me.” In less elegant words: Screw off.

—The Apothecary diaries LN 1 - Chapter 19, After the Festivities

-The apothecary diaries, Season 1 Episode 6

That’s right... I forgot he’s one of those types. She tried giving him a crushing look, as if he were a small, brown rat, but it was having the opposite of the effect she wanted.

—The Apothecary diaries LN 1 - Chapter 27, Honey (Part Two)

—The apothecary diaries, Season 1 Episode 3

While MaoMao is an unreliable narrator (girl what do you mean you feel no love when you are one of the sweetest girls I have ever seen), here her reactions are not limited to thoughts of "I do not wish to be near him. I would rather not have any relationship with him" which could be a greater indicator of unreliable narration, instead, her thoughts are backed up with actions and, most importantly, physical reactions, which are harder to pretend, specially the later. The way she gets chills because of him touching her? Well, this can have a couple reasons worth exploring on it's own analysis but we can say she is not comfortable with him getting too close.

Yet, she is not indifferent to him. Chapter after chapter, we see Maomao describing Jinshi in an unique, beautiful way, which she only does when describing Jinshi. Neither of the characters she describes the way she does with Jinshi.

Lets see how she describes Jinshi when she meets him for the first time.

This had to be the immensely beautiful eunuch of whom she had heard so much. He had hair as fine as silk, an almost liquid presence, almond-shaped eyes, and eyebrows that evoked willow branches. A heavenly nymph on a picture scroll could not have competed with him for loveliness.

—The Apothecary diaries LN 1 - Chapter 4, The Nymph's Smile

She uses a lot of metaphors which yes, Maomao is someone that loves describing with metaphors, but she is super descriptive of Jinshi in this part. Her description vivid and ends stating that something from Heaven itself is not match for Jinshi's beauty.

Now lets see how she describes Lihaku, which is the only other man aside from Jinshi and Gaoshun she gets to know.

Maomao looked up to discover a virile-looking man giving her an ingratiating smile. He was still young, and had no beard. He looked manly enough as far as it went.

—The Apothecary diaries LN 1 - Chapter 18, The Garden Party (Part Three).

There is no metaphors, no vivid descriptions, no comparisons or saying how beautiful he is. Just plain, straight facts.

Now, we could argue that Jinshi is canonically more attractive than Lihaku and that's why Jinshi's description is more vivid, which totally, but for me there is also something deliberate in the way Maomao describes Jinshi versus when she describes Lihaku.

She goes to every part of Jinshi's face. She plays attention to his hair, his eyebrows, his eyes, his presence. Jinshi has her attention and that's why she analyzes him in this detailed way.

While Lihaku, one brief look, a few comments and she is over with the matter. Of course, he doesn't have her attention, Lihaku is just some guy more.

There is no attention. No interest.

No attraction.

I think that if for Maomao stating Jinshi's beauty was just a "matter of fact", her descriptions would be something like Lihaku's, straight facts, just like she is with everyone else. But not only the way she describes Jinshi is different from everyone else, almost everytime (if not always) she sees Jinshi, she has a unique way to describe him.

Here are some of my favs.

Smile as sweet as ambrosia (chapter 4)

His gorgeous smile suggested he wouldn’t hurt a flea (chapter 5)

Maomao met the man’s smile, lovely as a peony blossom, with studious indifference (chapter 10) (by far my favorite)

The sparkle that lit in Maomao’s eyes at that word wasn’t lost on Jinshi. A naughty bit of satisfaction entered his lovely smile (chapter 10)

His voice was as sweet as a fruit liqueur (chapter 10) (my second favorite)

What terrible news,” Consort Gyokuyou said, her face darkening. Standing before her, Jinshi’s heavenly countenance was likewise troubled (chapter 25)

The needling comment came from an all-too-familiar, heavenly voice (chapter 26)

Come evening, that loveliest of eunuchs appeared, as ever (chapter 27)

Everytime she sees Jinshi she can't help but say how gorgeous-lovely-heavenly the man is. And she works in the palace for ten months, one could expect to get used to Jinshi's beauty and stop describing him but... she doesn't, time after time, Maomao says how beautiful he is.

And other people? They don't have her interest at all. She doesn't give them a second thought. This are the inner thoughts of Maomao, hard to show in the anime, but obvious in the light novel. She doesn't like Jinshi, but there is something in him that attracts Maomao a lot, or she wouldn't describe him the way she does.

Attraction doesn't necessarily mean you like someone. For me liking means you want to try something with that person, get to know them more, see where the relationship go, there is a closer level of intimacy. And I won't debate you, at this moment Maomao absolutely doesn't like Jinshi, she is not interested in having something with him at all.

But saying she dislikes him is also not true, for there is something that catches her interest.

Attraction is that there is something about the person that you are interested in and gets your attention. Have you ever watched someone walk on the street and say "wow, they are beautiful" and then you continue walking? That is attraction, even for a brief moment. But most of the time we don't go, ask for that person's number, get to know them and try something with them, which would be liking. Attraction can lead to a dance, a kiss, a night together, with not necessarily becoming something else.

And I don't think that attraction is something "objective". For there is something so personal that there has to be something about the other that you desire. If they don't have something that is appealing to you, they simply don't have it. Doesn't ever happened to you that everyone says that some person is so beautiful and you can't see it? Because that person doesn't have the qualities that catch your interest.

But Jinshi does have Maomao's interest.

She just is not going to do that anything with it.

For now.

[stellas-and-tonitruses]

⚠ SPOILERS FOR CHAPTER 93 AHEAD! ⚠

now that we have finally met demetrius, it seems like a great time to dissect his first scene and proper conversation! :]

his wide, unfocused stare hides ✨unexpected complexity✨, as expected of a desmond

he's impatient (common desmond trait at this point)

he's nonchalantly exceptional, as we expected and have been repeatedly told thus far

...but most importantly, amidst a sea of accomplishments, he is burdened with a lack of people skills and visibly frustrated by it, as evidenced by his conversation with damian in this chapter.

the analysis and speculation continues under the cut!!

so, a breakdown of the main meat of his introduction

similarly to every single time there's an interaction between damian and another desmond, damian is the one who reaches out first by calling out to demetrius, who immediately asks him what he wants. damian tries to begin with small talk, congratulating him on his accomplishments of the day

demetrius is brief and to the point, but it doesn't feel to me like he is annoyed here. perhaps curious, perhaps indifferent, we don't know -- demetrius is a boy of few explanatory thoughts, after all

merely in the next page, demetrius is revealed to have a blank mind for most of this conversation.

i don't believe this is a sign that demetrius was experimented on or anything. obviously, this does not rule out that he has been experimented on, but i don't think his lack of thoughts are indicative of that, nor do i believe anya was too far away (in previous chapters, she has read the thoughts of people at greater distances than this with ease!). i think this has something to do with his upbringing, but also very importantly his state of mind at the moment

his eyes are wide open, but his stare is unfocused. i think this is an intentional choice to hammer in that he's not really here at this moment, listening to what is undoubtedly to him pointless praise. he has likely tuned all of it out completely.

(as a side note, if we wanna involve anya in this situation more, we could assume that he is intentionally cloaking his thoughts from anya or any other potential mind-readers, but while i do think donovan is very likely involved in project apple, i severely doubt the financial benefactors of project apple would spend likely a lot of money to figure out a way to shield the thoughts of a middle schooler, regardless of who his dad is, from potential telepaths. as far as we know, anya is the only one with this specific power and demetrius is unlikely to have any information that would incriminate the operation. if that was an issue, i don't see why they wouldn't spend their money to protect melinda's mind, since she likely has way more info than demetrius ever could.)

moving on from that side note though,

we do not see demetrius' face as he says this! this is important to me

we are left unaware to whether or not he is disappointed or just trying to abscond to take a nap (he really needs one)

but then, he says this:

this, to me, is a direct attempt at connecting!! he's trying to reciprocate the small talk, the praise, trying to continue the conversation. his thought, "i don't understand him," may feel contradictory but to me, it only underlines his frustration about this, because he knows what damian is going to say next:

even though it was expected, this is not what demetrius was hoping to get out of this. his downturned eyebrows give a feeling of discontent. he is not blank, he is visibly frustrated, visibly annoyed.

and we are thus made aware of a boundary demetrius and melinda both share:

never mention donovan.

for one reason or another, this is the boundary damian has overstepped with both his mother AND his brother now, without ever being informed that it IS a boundary in the first place

so demetrius, upset, turns around to leave and throws this at damian:

this is important, because damian has shared a very similar sentiment to anya before, albeit in a mournful tone.

demetrius likely feels similarly neglected by his parents, but is long past feeling sad about it. he has moved straight to anger, understandably!

but the bigger reason for his frustration, imo, relates to a problem damian once again ALSO has: people treating them as a gateway to their father and nothing more.

demetrius has more than likely also been treated like this, and probably still is unless his peers have learned not to engage because of his brief, snippy responses, so he is familiar with the feeling of being used.

...and damian unknowingly treated him the exact same way, even though he's also grown to hate it.

of course, he's 6 years old and he meant no harm by this -- he's just a lonely boy trying to be noticed by his neglectful parents, after all, what else could he possibly do?

but for demetrius, this is the end of the conversation. he is not his father's manager, he's not even that close to him, so why does his brother only ever talk to him when it relates to their father?

as he said before: he doesn't understand him, and why he keeps doing this. does he not know there is little info to be gained?

he doesn't understand their father either, with his impossibly high expectations, never pleased, never happy, never available

and lastly, as ewen and emile try to introduce themselves

demetrius has one final thought.

and he casts aside this entire conversation, leaving the scene as empty as he entered it.

of course, the chapter doesn't end here, but this is where demetrius' involvement in it does, leaving us with a newfound understanding that while to damian, demetrius represents everything he can only strive to become... to demetrius? his accomplishments ring hollow in the face of everything he wishes he could understand.

we do get an extra flashback that hearkens back to a better yesterday, but while donovan is lacking some very important details (those scars, that dead disinterest that follows his every move -- he seems mirthful somehow here), we don't know if this scene represents a time when they were closer or if it's simply evidence that as far back as everyone can remember, demetrius has been doing nothing but studying all the time

could this be evidence of something nefarious relating to project apple? eh, not particularly, not to me. the boy's just studying hard, any relation to project apple would have to be more recent in the timeline imo

TL;DR:

demetrius has been built up throughout the past 92 chapters as a figure larger-than-life, and this has been thanks to most of our knowledge of him being directly affected by damian's perception of him, as the younger brother living under his shadow

however, he has now been humanized by his flaws: a short temper and a lack of social skills that comes paired with a clear want to connect, to understand, to converse. he seems to be a very lonely kid, everyone around him either jealous, putting him on a pedestal or actively seeking to use him under the false impression that he has important connections, and although he doesn't mean to, damian has unknowingly been treating demetrius in the same way, only seeking him out when he wants to know something about donovan.

interestingly, him and melinda share the same trigger, that being donovan himself, though we do not yet know if their reason for this is also shared.

CLOSING THOUGHTSSS

it has been so exciting finally meeting this little goober-- i thought i might never see the day 😭😭😭

thank you to whoever read this far, i literally made this blog just now so! HOPE I DID WELL!

💖

[janelovxx]

Giyuu Tamioka Boyfriend Scenario 

♡ Love Language ⁠♡

Fluff

Giyu Tamioka x Reader

!!!: Demon slayer do not belong to me.

✧⁠*⁠。✧*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。✧*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*

Dating the cold and reserved water hashira is definitely not for the weak. It takes time even when just befriending the guy but dating him and being his girlfriend? You will definitely be the one who will have to confess. Everyone knows he is cold, quiet, reserved, and blunt. Showing affection is not definitely not his suit, you're wondering how he shows his affection? Of course he'll do it on his own way and pace.

✧⁠*⁠。✧*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。✧*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*

✧He is not a man of words and showy when it comes to affection but! Definitely an act of service guy.

✧Can't carry all the bags? He got it! Having a hard time cleaning the house? He'll help. Anything you need, you may not notice it but he'll definitely act on it.

✧"Do you need help?" "I'll do it" "Is this alright?"

✧but aside from Act of Service, Gift giving is definitely his love language.

✧ You're chatting and you said you wanted to get this? He'll get it right after his mission on the way home! You don't need things he bought for you? You gotta need it girl! It's from him!

✧ "huh? For me?..but! Why?"

"You wanted it."

✧Aside from getting what you want, He'll definitely got something that reminds him of you.

✧ "This reminds me of her." "Is there [F/C] available of this?" "I hope she likes this"

✧⁠*⁠。✧*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。✧*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*

Imagine him on his way coming back from a long mission and pass through the city where there's stall outside selling cute stuffs or accessories like hair clip, cute bracelets and stuff. He'll pass by and definitely buy something that reminds him of you. He will probably buy something matching but subtle for him to wear.

After buying that stuff, he'll go home immediately, not wanting anything but to rest after his long and exhausting mission in your arms.

When he got home, the sound of the door opening was the only signal that will warn you that he is home. You ran to him as soon as he went home, greeting him with your usual smile and affection.

"Welcome home, Love"

And of course, there's nothing greater than your daily hug and peck of kisses on his cheek after he went home after every mission, indication of relief that he is back once again.

"Here." He will just put the pouch of that gift on your hand as you look at him curiously before opening that. There is a cute hairpin designs with gem stones.A blue one specifically.

"This is so...so cute! Thank you so much love!"

And of course there's nothing greater than seeing your wide smiles and sparkling eyes at things he'll do for you. It will never fail to quicken his heart beat.

Oh how lucky he is.

And of course, he'll always remind himself to buy you something after his missions so there will be an award for you for always waiting for him and also,

To always see your sparkling eyes indication of excitement and so those smiles that will never fail to squeeze his heart in affection.