#AND IT'S ONLY A MATTER OF NAMES...I'LL ALSO HAVE TO PUT THE REST OF MY GENDER MENTION CHANGE DOSSIER TOGETHER

[chaotictomtom]

waiting for my new id card w finally legally changed name on it. also wishing for my next endoc appointment that she'll up my dose OR AT LEAST lessen the times between shots cos i feel like im going crazy

[autonomousroboticorganism]

Prime and Protector (TF One Sentinel Prime)

Pairing - Sentinel Prime x F!Prime!Reader

summary - you're the smallest Prime, and the nicest to Sentinel. the two of you develop a close bond as the other Primes treat you like any other Cybertronian because of your size, and you fall for the only bot who still puts you on a pedestal

warnings - slight angst but mostly fluff, neglect from the Primes, a bit suggestive?

a/n - sorry not sorry, i am obsessed with this maniac

Primes were known to be massive beings, significantly taller than most Cybertronians. It was a symbol of their power and prestige, as well as their leadership over the citizens of Cybertron.

However, there was one Prime who wasn't quite as big.

You were the same height as Sentinel, who wasn't even a Prime, and you had a very slender frame. So you looked like any other Cybertronian, which is why the other Primes often treated you like such. They often left you out, "forgetting" to call you to meetings and you wouldn't even know about half of them if it hadn't been for Sentinel.

"My lady."

You were in your berthroom prepping your weapon for your next encounter with the Quintessons, when Sentinel appeared at your door. He knocked politely, giving you a smile he reserved only for you.

You couldn't help but smile back, being very fond of the advisor, "Come in, Sentinel. I assume there's another meeting?"

"Yes", he nodded, stepping into your berthroom for the first time.

He considered this progress in his relationship with you. You were the nicest of all the Primes, the one who treated him the best. He liked you the most, and maybe that was transitioning into something more...romantic. So you letting him into your berthroom gave him some hope that you at least liked him, if not felt for him what he felt for you.

Maybe one day.

You ex-vented heavily, "Okay. I'll be there soon."

He noticed your apprehension, "Is something the matter?"

It wasn't any of his business, but recently you'd grown a lot closer to him as you grew distant from your fellow Primes.

"I grow weary of my brethren," you admitted to him. "I am practically invisible to them; they don't ever see me."

He responded with something so bold he would never have thought of uttering it in your presence had it not been for you allowing him into your private space.

"I see you."

You offered him a small smile, "I know you do, my sweet advisor."

His words had a much bigger impact on you than he realised, and this was the start of the road to becoming his sparkmate. This was the point at which you realised you saw him as more than an advisor, more than a friend. And even though you held a higher status, you didn't feel ashamed about it.

"You must be exhausted, my lady."

You returned from another skirmish with the invaders, feeling exactly that, to see Sentinel standing outside your berthroom with a plate of fresh energon.

You smiled, and your faceplates heated up at how attentive he was, "Thank you, Sentinel. But you were there too, you should also get some rest."

None of the other Primes would have thought to suggest that he rest as well. And that only made him want to care for you more.

"I insist," he moved the plate closer to you. "Once you are replenished, I will take my leave to...rest." He said that hesitantly, because you both knew the other Primes would just put him back to work.

You offered him a tired smile and beckoned him into your berthroom once again, "Then at least share the energon with me. That's far too much for me alone."

Sentinel was stunned by the offer, and also flustered. For the first time, it was you making his faceplates heat up rather than the other way around.

"Are you sure, my lady?"

"Mhm," you nodded, then laughed, "Oh and please, stop calling me 'my lady'. You can use my name, you know."

"But that would be-"

"I insist," you settled on your berth. "You've earned it."

The permission to use your name made him buzz with excitement, but also nervousness. That seemed almost too kind of you, but then again he was alone with you...in your berthroom...sharing a plate of energon with you.

"Sentinel," you laughed again, "Relax. Sit down."

He didn't realise how tense he was, but as he sat down across from you he felt himself relax. You being so casual around him was, surprisingly, putting him at ease.

Sentinel admired you a lot. He often found himself unable to look away from you, the most beautiful femme he had ever laid optics on. But now, in the comfort of your berthroom, looking so relaxed, there was a different kind of beauty about you. A beauty that transcended physical appearance, and that was hard to ignore.

He didn't know how to explain it.

Your faceplates burned when you caught sight of him staring. You were speechless for a moment at the look in his optics. Far more than just respect and admiration, there was something deeper in them. Something far more...intimate.

"Power down with me," you found yourself saying, unable to believe those words yourself.

His optics widened, "My lady-"

"(Name)," you corrected, moving closer to him as if possessed.

"My lady," he insisted, struggling to deny your request to call you by name. "I don't think it would be appropriate-"

"Sentinel, please."

And then you were kissing him.

You had surged forward and closed the distance between you two, smashing your dermas against his. Locking you two in a passionate kiss in that awkward position, both of you with your legs hanging over separate sides of the bed but upper bodies turned to face one another.

You kissed him hungrily, like you were starved.

And Sentinel kissed back.

You could have done this forever, it felt so good. But Sentinel seemed to regain his senses midway, and suddenly pulled away from you. Though he found it extremely difficult to do so.

"Sentinel?" You questioned, confused. "Did I misunderstand..?"

"No, Primus no," he vented, "I'll see you tomorrow, my lady."

He got up quickly and left, leaving you confused and slightly hurt. Feeling just a little bit rejected by the one bot you thought wanted you.

The next day you noticed Sentinel doing his best to avoid you. Unlike before, if you didn't need him he wouldn't be with you. And that hurt even more, because you missed his company and you missed his attentiveness.

You closed yourself off, spending your spare time in your berthroom, thinking of various strategies and tactics - distracting yourself the only way you knew how.

"My lady-"

"What do you want, Sentinel?" You grit your dentae, words coming out cold and harsh.

He flinched at your tone, having never heard you speak to him like that before, "I would like to apologise."

"For what? Avoiding me or leading me on?" You laughed coldly.

"I wasn't-" He paused, then, "I just didn't think the other Primes would approve."

"And what do I care for their approval?" You hissed, "All they've ever done is ignore me, so I don't think they would even notice. Even if they did, my choice of sparkmate is my own."

"I apologise," he answered softly. "I didn't realise."

And just like that, you forgave him. Just like that, your anger and hurt disappeared. You looked up at him, standing awkwardly in the doorway and shuffling his weight nervously. He looked so cute, it was just so hard to stay mad.

"Come here."

He followed your gentle command, approaching you slowly. You stood up from your berth, excited at the idea of having him close again.

"Can I..?"

"Please."

His servos ghosted over your hip plating before grabbing your waist and pulling you forward to rest against him.

"You have no idea how long I've waited for this," he admitted, "I want you, (Name) Prime."

"Leave the Prime out," you mumbled bashfully.

He chuckled and stared at you for a moment, "Are you sure?"

You knew he wasn't asking about your name, but you were still certain of your answer, "Yes. I want you too, Sentinel."

That night he spent in your berthroom was intimate, the most intimate and special experience either of you had ever had. Your sparks were laid bare for one another, and you ended up sealing your bond with way more than just a kiss.

[lazycats-stuff]

What about male reader being Alfred's nephew who came to live with him because his parents died or were just unfit parents? Alfred isn't all too happy that he's here, but not because he hates him, no, but because Gotham isn't the safest place and the fact that he's bow living with the vigilante family isn't the greatest fact. I feel like Alfred would be very overprotective of his nephew, and just the family's reaction to Alfred's nephew, i feel like the family didn't really ask Alfred about his family and such .

Oh yeah, some Alfred for the soul. That man needs more love. Also, this will be under Batfamily since I'm too lazy to put a new masterlist for Alfred.

Summary: Alfred's nephew comes to live with Bruce and the rest of the fam.

Warnings: child abuse, mentions, mentions of what happened, everyone trying to make sure that (Y/N) is comfortable, Alfred being protective.

Alfred left the UK and London behind a long time ago. He had his training and career as a soldier and then as a spy. Soon enough, his path led him to the USA, where he got a job as a butler for the Wayne family, even before Bruce was even in the picture. It wasn't really easy to leave his life behind, but Alfred knew it was for the better.

He needed a new beginning after everything he has witness over the years. Especially since his sister cut contact with him. Alfred, while said, he knew he couldn't change her mind in the slightest. But that didn't matter today. What mattered was his new family and his four grandsons and son.

Yes, he did consider Bruce to be his son. After all, he did raise him from when he was 7. And as his four grandsons came along, he was happy.

As far as his old family? Around 13 years ago, his sister had a baby. A boy named (Y/N). Yes, Alfred kept some tabs on his family, just to make sure that everything was like okay back there. Years went by and when (Y/N) was 13, Alfred got a call.

It wasn't a pleasant one.

Alfred sighed as he ended the call, rubbing his temples, muttering a lot of unpleasant things underneath his breath. His nephew (Y/N) was taken out of his sister's custody because she was abusive in every since of the word. And in every shape too.

Starving, beatings... Neglect...

Alfred was really mortified and he could barley speak as he remembered the conversation... He sighed and quickly made his way down to the kitchen opening up the cabinet where he held the strongest drinks in the manor. He poured himself a glass of scotch, since it was the first thing he could see.

I downed the scotch in one sip before pouring himself another one. He sighed yet again, leaning on the kitchen counter, trying not to snap.

" Something happened? " Bruce asked from behind him and Alfred sighed for the third time.

" Well master Bruce... Something did happen. " Alfred said, taking the glass and turning around to face Bruce. Alfred knew that (Y/N) had to come live here... But this family is full of vigilantes... But this is also a safe space too.

" What happened Alfred? " Bruce asked, worried for the man. Alfred is often composed and sarcastic, but now, he was shaken and just... Sad?

" My nephew is in the custody of CPS, well, at least the British version. " Alfred started and Bruce crossed his arms as he leaned on the doorway.

" I didn't know you had a nephew... " Bruce admitted softly and Alfred chuckled, sipping his scotch slowly.

" Yeah... My sister cut contact with me a long time ago master Bruce... " Alfred acknowledged and Bruce nodded, not knowing what to say.

" Either way... I'm the only family he has master Bruce, which means he will have to come here. " Alfred whispered, downing his scotch again.

" That's not a problem Alfred. I'll make space for (Y/N), clear out one room for him and talk to the boys. " Bruce responded and Alfred shook his head, making Bruce frown and tilt his head in confusion.

" That's something I know you would do master Bruce. " Alfred explained and poured himself more scotch. " It's... You are Batman and the danger that comes with that name... I can't bring my nephew into more danger. " Alfred finished explaining and downed the scotch once more.

" It will be different. We will be honest with him. " Bruce said and Alfred did have to agree, they had to be honest with him.

" He will flying here tomorrow master Bruce, so we will need to pick him up. But before hand, we need to talk to the boys. And it will need to be serious. "

" Of course it will be serious Alfred. (Y/N) will feel safe here. And if any boys are out of line, send them to me Alfred. I'll call them down now so we can talk about this. " Bruce said before he went upstairs.

Alfred just finished a bottle in the meantime.

Bruce sat his sons down, telling them that this is very serious.

" Now, listen to Alfred intently. He is officially a lead on this. " Bruce said and sat down. The four boys looked at Alfred, who looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here.

" Well... My nephew is coming here to live with us. His parents, my sister and her husband were abusive to him... Physically, verbally... They starved him too... Either way, he is in a bad mental place. Which means that you four better be on your best behavior. No fights in front of him, both verbal and physical. Don't force him to talk about it and try to befriend him. " Alfred finished, looking at his grandsons with a pointed look.

" Is that all you had to say? " Dick asked and Alfred nodded.

" You have a nephew?! " Jason exclaimed and Alfred nodded.

" Okay, that... I thought you had no family. " Tim said and Alfred sighed and Bruce smiled sadly.

" I thought you were an agent for the MI6 and had no family... Like killed off. " Damian said and Alfred sighed yet again.

" Okay boys, that's enough commentary. " Bruce said and they all grumbled. " It's important that (Y/N) feels safe here. And Alfred has my full permission to put you all back in line. "

" As if he ever needed permission. " Jason mumbled quietly and Dick smacked the back of his head.

" Thank you master Dick. "

" Everyone, this is (Y/N). " Alfred said, introducing his nephew to his grandsons. " (Y/N), these are the infamous Wayne kids. I don't think anymore introduction is needed. " Alfred said, glancing at his shy nephew.

" Now (Y/N), let me lead you to your room. " Alfred said and gently lead (Y/N) to his room. It was one of the bigger ones, with a lot of room and a comfortable bed.

" Now (Y/N), are you hungry? Because it's lunchtime in America at the moment. " Alfred said as (Y/N) put a small suitcase on the bed.

" I could eat something. " (Y/N) said and Alfred nodded, smiling at the fact that (Y/N) would eat something.

" I was thinking about some burgers actually. I can make a good one, with my awesome recipe. Do you want to come down or do you want to stay in your room? " Alfred asked softly.

" I would like to go down... This is a nice place... " (Y/N) said, still nervous.

" I agree it is nice, now come on mate, lets go down. " Alfred said and let (Y/N) go down. Alfred gently led him down to the kitchen and (Y/N) sat down, the boys all around him, keeping some distance, trying to not make him feel overwhelmed.

" So... Is it true that the Queen is a lizard? " Jason asked out of the blue and (Y/N) rolled his eyes at that, but with a smile.

" She passed away. " (Y/N) said and Jason raised his brow.

" No. "

" Yes. "

Jason scoffed with a smile and Alfred listened as he started making the meat mixture for the patties.

" Is it true that people from London speak the best English? " Dick asked and (Y/N) rolled his eyes.

" It's not true. It's so far from the truth... " (Y/N) said and Dick chuckled.

" Well, the royals are there and they must be educated... So how come? " Dick joked and (Y/N) shrugged his shoulders.

" Is it true that gun control is tighter? " Jason asked curiously and (Y/N) nodded.

" Damn... Well, welcome to the land of freedom. " Jason joked and (Y/N) smiled, but it was tiny. Tiny as hell.

" If you hear a bald eagle screeching it means you have reached the peak of staying here. " Tim stated and (Y/N) rolled his eyes a bit.

(Y/N) turned his head when he saw Titus, the Great Dane walking in with his head high and tail wagging at the sight of a newcomer. Damian was ready to intervene if necessary, but Titus was calm with people.

Damian watched as Titus sniffed (Y/N)'s hands, licking them softly and then (Y/N) hesitantly petting him.

" What's his name? " (Y/N) asked, not sure who to ask directly.

" His name is Titus. " Damian answered as he kept watching, tilting his head in wonder.

" Is he yours? " (Y/N) asked as he scratched Titus' ears.

" Yes he is. " Damian answered and (Y/N) moved down his hand to Titus' cheek. " He is huge... " (Y/N) mumbled as he kept patting Titus, who was wagging his tail.

" He is a Great Dane so he is big. " Damian explained and (Y/N) stopped petting him, making Titus whine.

" He is a big baby. " Jason chimed in and Damian nodded.

Alfred put the things he needed aside and checked on (Y/N) and the way he was handling the situation was great. The boys didn't push him, joked about something with him... And (Y/N) was comfortable. That was the most important thing here.

Thankfully, Alfred and Bruce both have experience with sort of traumatized children so (Y/N) will be able to heal properly. And the truth about them being vigilantes... Well, that can wait until (Y/N) is more stable.

[awriterinthenight]

"You Look Cute Flustered"-Anthony Lockwood

requested: anonymous

words: 1221

warnings: not much, the word suicidal maybe (idk if that counts), also implied that reader was shorter than Lockwood, but in my defense I usually use myself as reference when needed and I'm 4'11, but not much just cute fluff

summary: Lockwood was always charming and witty around everyone else, except for you. Around you Lockwood's mind would always draw a blank and he would become even more flustered. And it only got worse when you started to date.

Everyone knew one thing about Lockwood and it was that he was incredibly witty. Wherever he went, whoever he talked to, he could charm his way out of any situation. Anyone, and everyone would easily fall for whatever smile, or smirk Lockwood would put on, just to get out of any situation. Even if he was just talking to someone he could capture their full attention in a matter of moments with the softest of smiles.

Lockwood was like that around everyone, except for you. When it came to you Lockwood couldn't seem to even get out a proper sentence without his brain almost short circuiting as he stumbled over all his words. This would always result in you smiling, or sometimes even teasing him by saying, "You look cute flustered."

One time you and Lockwood were in the kitchen preparing breakfast. You were making tea, while Lockwood was trying to finally make toast that didn't burn in the toaster. You were just trying to grab the sugar that George decided to put on the top shelf when he reorganised the entire kitchen during one of his maniac cleanings.

You could just barely reach when you felt a hand wrap around your waist, as a hand went up to grab the sugar for you, "Thanks, Anthony," you said, referring to him by his first name, something he only allowed you to do.

Lockwood didn't know if it was the way his hand rested on your waist, or the smile you gave him, or the way you said his name, making him feel like his entire self was made of butterflies. All poor Lockwood could manage out was a simple, "N-no problem," while turning back towards the one burnt toast, trying to hide the massive blush on his face.

After that interaction, whenever you said something to him he would immediately blush, then proceed to stumble over almost every word before getting the fragments of a sentence out.

Many more of these a occasions occurred, and they only got worse when the two of you started dating. Lockwood somehow got even worse. Every sentence took him a second to say after trying to get over his initial fluster.

Complimenting him, he was flustered. Making him tea, flustered, unable to express how thankful he was. Saving him during a job, even more flustered and takes him a moment to thank you and assure you that he was okay. Even just standing next to him, and that man turned as red as a tomato.

One of the most notable times this happened was while giving a report to Inspector Barnes. Lockwood and Co. had just escaped a suicidal job after showing up with almost no research. You managed to somehow cut yourself on your rapier when you were distracted. Now you were getting your hand patched up while Lockwood was waiting for Barnes to come back with the paperwork.

You had just finished getting your hand bandaged up, and started to head towards Lockwood. For once he wasn't flustered by your mere presence, more filled with concern for how you were doing.

The moment you were near him his arms wrapped around you, "How bad is your hand?" he asked, concerned for you since you would most likely be off the job for a week or two.

You shrugged, "Not horrible, but not good. I have to keep it bandaged for a week, and I can't do anything too straining, that way I don't break my stitches. I'll be out of operation for a week or two," You said, a bit sullen looking since you would be letting George, Lucy, and Lockwood work without you for a couple of weeks.

"It's okay, love," he said, placing a small kiss on your forehead, "Just do as the doctor said. No working till your hands fully healed and you'll be all better soon. When we get home I'll make you some tea and you can get some well deserved sleep, and you won't have to lift a finger for weeks, so that your hand can heal," Lockwood assured him. He would probably die from how much he cares about the people he loves. It was really just a small injury, an inconvenience as you thought of it, but Lockwood saw it as a reason to now take care of you more than he already did.

"That does sound nice, but I feel bad not being able to help you guys on jobs. It's just frustrating to me. It makes me feel useless" you told him, looking at the ground filled with your own pity for yourself.

Lockwood lifted up your chin so that you could look at him, "You're not useless, love. You can still help with research, but you're anything but useless, you know that?

You let out a breath, "Yeah, I know, I just hate it," you told him, relaxing further into his touch for comfort.

Lockwood lent down to plant a small kiss on your lips, "I'm just glad your okay," he said, leaning down for another kiss, this time a lot longer than the first one.

You stayed like that for a moment before you were interrupted, "Alright, I have all the paperwork, just sign here, here, and-" Barnes cut himself off when he noticed you two, and how you jumped apart.

In a moment like this Lockwood would usually say something witty like 'Your timing is impeccable', but once again Lockwood could no longer form words in his flustered state.

Instead it was you with the witty response, "You've clearly mastered the art of comedic timing, haven't you," you joked, looking at Barnes' shocked face. You and Inspector Barnes had a weird relationship. You'd known Barnes since you started out, and he even pointed you in the direction of Lockwood and Co., not purposefully since his words were more like, 'Whatever you do, do not join Lockwood and Co. and stay away from them', yet here you were. So Barnes was more than surprised to see his least favourite (his favourite) troublemaker kissing the girl he tried so hard to mentor to become a good person.

"I-I," he stumbled, confused to what was happening, "Since when have you been a thing?" Once again Lockwood tried to speak, but was unable to find any sort of words.

"A month, two I think next week," you told Barnes, thinking back to when Lockwood finally asked you out. Barnes decided to ask questions later, and for now hand you all the necessary paperwork.

Once you finished, Barnes collected it and turned to leave, but not before he told Lockwood, "Don't hurt her, I already am not your biggest fan, so don't screw whatever this is up to."

Lockwood probably would've made some sort of joke, but all he did was nod, smile, and try to stumble out some sort of 'understood' while trying to not blush too much. Barnes could tell Lockwood would never do anything to hurt you, just by how he was acting. No one made Anthony Lockwood flustered and unable to use his charm and wit, except for you. While looking over the paperwork Inspector Barnes thought about how one day he wouldn't be surprised if (or more like when) he saw your name have the last name Lockwood behind it.

Current Taglist (ask to be added)

@almost-gabrielle @scarlett-8 @atashiboba @that1deerpersondownstairs

[littlestarconch]

Corruption

💌 Pairing || Xavier x Reader

→ Slightly Suggestive ; Lowkey Yandere? Xavier ; Unestablished Relationship ; Quite Literal Opposite of Original! Xavier

🪄 :: No because the corrupted xavier fanarts are everywhere, and I can no longer stay quiet about it

"Found you.."

You were fighting a wanderer, and seems like the God of luck despise you today. You were injured, not too bad that you can't move. But the injuries do slow you down, you contacted the first person that came to mind, not knowing what exactly happened on his side.

And then there's a black shadow appeared before you within a blink of an eye, the next second the wanderer disappeared. You sighed in relief upon seeing, a familiar yet, also not familiar figure at the distance.

"... Xavier?— ..Why's your clothes all— black, now—? Wait no, that doesn't matter.. Thank y—" Before you could finish your sentence your figure is engulfing into his arms. "Shh.. I'll take care of you." And the next moment you're getting picked up bridal style, "Wh—?!?!! X, Xavier! You don't need to go this far—" "You can't walk, you'll only slow me down."

You pouted at his statement, but he's not entirely wrong either, with the injuries you have, you'll definitely slow him down. So you stayed still and quiet in his arms.

After walking for awhile, Xavier told you to close your eyes, only for you to open them and you're already at a different place. It's his apartment, he sat you down at the couch. "Stay." He said firm before leaving you all alone in the living room.

Something seems off from him, he seemed, much more.. bolder than usual? Also his bangs are covering his other eye, the light in his eyes seems dimmer than before. You frowned upon the discovery, and you snapped out of your pondering the moment you heard footsteps coming to where you are.

"..Let me see the injuries" Xavier said, as he kneeled before you, waiting for you to show him where your injuries are. "I- ..I can do it myself!—" You were about to grab the spray, he moved his hand out of your reach. "Show me the injuries where you can let me see" he said, you sighed and eventually showed him some spots and let him spray your wounds.

After he's done, he gave the spray to you and went back to his room, you looked at his retreating figure confusedly. And the next second he walked out empty handed, "I prepared a change of clothes, you can heal the rest of your wounds in my room, I'll be waiting for you out here" He started off.

"If you need help, call me"

. . .

You're now in his room, all alone. You stared at the spare clothes Xavier put on his bed, you frown at the sight. Your eyes slowly drifted down to the spray in your hold, you recalled on how Xavier behaved around you, how he spoke, how his voice sounded.. lower than usual too.

You shook the thoughts away as you tried to patch yourself up, but after awhile you seemed to struggle on one. So you sat at the edge of his bed, contemplates if you should call him or not. But your lips seemed to have a mind of its own, your voice echoed throughout the room, calling his name.

And then you heard footsteps coming closer to the bedroom, closer and closer, and eventually you heard a familiar voice behind the door. ".. What's wrong?" He asked oh so softly, "I, Uhm, I need help with something"

. . .

You don't know how you ended up in this situation, but your back facing Xavier, you're not wearing his shirt, you're only in your undergarment. But you did wear his pants. It's definitely, too long for you. But that aside, you're biting back a hiss upon Xavier applying ointment on your wounds on your back.

"..Okay, we're done" He said, you sighed in relief when you heard that. "Thank you Xavier.." You thanked him, but he was so quiet behind you. And when you're about to check up on him, he suddenly pulled you into his arms. "Xav—" You were about to call out his name, but then you felt something soft and warm at your nape.

It's his lips.

"Hmm.." He hummed softly, his arms wrapped slightly tighter around you. "Next time.." He sighed, "Bring me with you, okay? " He said, sounded like he demand you to do what he said to be precise. "But you're—" When you're about to retort you heard him grunt in disapproval, that made you shut up for a moment.

"Okay, fine.." "Good" He whispered huskily right next to your ear, making you shiver in his hold. "I don't want to see you in this state again in the future" his hand dangerously went down to your lower half, slowly sliding to your thighs. To inner thighs, "Xavier—.." Your breathing start to get ragged, "Hm?" He hummed back but his lips didn't stop.

His lips continue leaving trail of kisses, down from your earlobe, to your neck, to your shoulder. Sometimes even nibbling on your skin as he did so, "What?.." You glanced at his figure from the corner of your eyes. "W, what are you doing..." You asked, and your eyes immediately drifted down to where his hands are.

They have found their way to your inner thighs, gliding closer, dangerously closer to where you probably want him to touch. "Giving you love?.." He sounded unsure, and he stopped moving for one moment. Before he continue his onslaught on you, your breath hitched when he nibbled on your earlobe.

"Stay with me tonight" He whispered, "I'll take care of you.."

"...I promise I'll be gentle"

©littlestarconch

🪄 :: I am fine, live laugh love Xavier. I'll probably post something about Rafayel later.. maybe..

[uglypastels]

Too Sweet - Hozier x Anthony Bridgerton 🤭🤭🤭

oh my god, my first Anthony fic. So, I really hope I do this justice, though, disclaimer, it is probably not what we were expecting with this prompt combo. I for sure didn't think this is where I would take it, but that's just how it goes with writing, I suppose.

Anyway, thank you for also being my first 2024 Spotify Blurb aaahh it's so good to be back haha. ok, but anyway enjoy

word count: 1.1k warning: mention of commitment issues. 3rd POV. workaholic anthony

Spotify Blurb Event ~ Masterlist TBA

#2 Too Sweet - Hozier

You know you're bright as the morning, as soft as the rain Pretty as a vine, as sweet as a grape If you can sit in a barrel, maybe I'll wait

The candlelight flickered, announcing its last minutes of life. Though the measly attempt for attention was hardly noticed by the man sitting at his large oak desk. Overfilled with dictations of family accounts, investments, and other correspondence, there was barely enough space for him to let his hands rest. As the little fires around him dimmed into darkness, it was his eyes that began to burn with fatigue and his throat as he downed the last of his whiskey. It numbed everything around him, not that there was much more besides the work that occupied his mind for the entire day. 

He was so taken up in the documents, in fact, that he had not heard the footsteps outside in the halls that softly treaded their way to the heavy doors separating him from the rest of the world. Not even the creaking of door hinges pulled him out of his focus. Only the soft sound of her voice calling his name. 

‘Anthony?’ 

Startled, as if woken up from a deep sleep or perhaps a curse, Anthony looked up. Just like that, he grew aware of his surroundings: the pure darkness outside the windows that had encapsulated his office now as well, the ache in his back and neck from hunching over the parchments, and, specifically, the beautiful figure standing in the doorway. 

‘Are you coming to bed?’ She asked.

‘Yes, just—’

‘We both know it is never just one more account, my lord.’ She said, and even in the darkness, Anthony could tell a small smile adorned her lips. One of bemusement but also sadness. It was, after all, not the first time she had caught him working into the late hours of the night. On the contrary, it was a rare occasion for him to fall asleep at a moderate time. As with most things in life, the natural motions of the sun were merely a suggestion for Anthony Bridgerton. 

‘You’re right,’ he chuckled at her comment, finally putting down the quill and immediately it was like a weight was released off his wrist. He twisted his hand and let the joint crack in satisfaction. ‘But know, I do not expect you to fetch me every evening. It is not your duty to put me to bed.’ 

‘It is my duty to care for the man that cares for me.’ She stated matter-of-factly, if not simply sternly. ‘Especially when he does not seem to take much care of himself.’ As Anthony had reached her side by the door, she halted him with a gentle placement of her palm to his chest, observing the uneven state of his shirt buttons, which he must have adorned for the entirety of the day. As it was far past any regular bedtime, and with no use in closing the shirt once more, she undid the buttons, freeing Anthony from the material. He could not help but glance down as her hands moved down his body so elegantly. 

Perhaps it was his weary state, but he could not help his wandering mind travel to the memories of the first time this interaction between them had occurred—the discarding of clothes, though much rougher in procedure than what it had become over time. A truth far derived from Anthony’s chivalrous manner, and one which would never leave his lips til the day he passes, is that he had imagined the occurrence the moment he had laid his eyes on her. A ridiculous, primitive notion only to suit the needs of the rake that he truly was. 

The hours after their first meeting, Anthony’s mind was riddled with two contradicting thoughts, both prodigious in conception. For one, he had never before felt such a desire for a woman. With her beauty and kindness, this softness in physicality and temperament, a sweetness to fulfil and satisfy all the senses. A softness that his rigidness would do nothing upon but harm, which is why he also felt the strong obligation to distance himself from her as much as possible. 

He knew himself well enough to know that though she may be the woman filling his dreams each late night, he was not the man for her to spend her waking days with. Pursuing her affection would be a selfish act on his part. When he saw her dancing, he felt no right to her hand, let alone her lips or any other fragment of her body. 

Time was meant to be the answer. Anthony supposed that as the months went by, this silly infatuation would pass, that things would change, and, whichever way fate would take him, the frustrations would ease. 

Whichever way, but surely Lady Fortuna would never bring her to him. Not so explicitly as a frustrated–exasperated– march across the gardens, her hand in a tight grip over his wrist, and a pull away from the onlookers and their evergrowing murmurs. 

With the many things running through his mind, Anthony was still unsure how his first direct words to her managed to be a scoff of, ‘This is highly improper.’

‘As improper as you having evaded my existence for the past half year?’ 

‘I–’ Those who knew him knew Anthony to be rarely found at a loss for words, but staring at her at this very moment, as the peonies were in full bloom, he had nothing to say for him. All logic escaped him, or rather, he had freed himself from reason. The rationale behind his past actions felt foolish, only to be confirmed with her kind laugh. 

‘Anthony Bridgerton, you are the most ridiculous man I have ever met.’ And again, Anthony was found silent, but this once, it was not for a lack of words, but rather that she had not gifted him with an opportunity to speak, to begin with. 

With her lips pressed passionately against his, the world faded away. A feeling so new that still never seemed to age or dim with any future kiss that followed. Even now, years later, even when Anthony’s worries about their match resurfaced on such late nights. Where he wondered if he was ever good enough for her or if he could ever live up to the love he promised her, it all dwindled away into a distant whisper until it vanished for good. There was nothing else but him and her. 

Anthony felt his entire body release the tensions of hours past. With a deep breath, inhaling the sweet scent of his wife’s nearly washed-off perfume, he let go of everything but her. As the lovers kissed in each other's arms, far off in the distance of the ton, the tower clock struck, and the church bells rang in echoes of their final chord of the day. 

the end.

Thank you for reading. If you enjoyed it, please consider to like and especially reblog but also I would love to know what you thought of the story so please feel free to leave behind a comment anywhere around the post. all forms are appreciated :] and anon asks are always open if you're not about that public life.

and if you want to send in a prompt yourself, remember to check out the Spotify Blurb challenge, linked on top!

ok, that's all. yap sesh over.

[captain-mj]

Wrote this at a laundromat so I hope you guys like it

Ghost had just moved to Scotland to get away from everything. His family's murders stayed a constant thought in his mind, but more than that, he didn't want anyone still loyal to Roba to find him. After wiping them off the map, he decided to do something he never thought possible.

Chose himself.

So he made his way to Scotland where no one would know Simon Riley and he bought a house and lived next to a small town so he could go over and get whatever supplies he needed before coming to hide again.

That's where he met him.

A local man who apparently was involved in the church and was in general a great person.. Most people referred to him as Soap, which Ghost thought was a very strange name, but he had also heard MacTavish which seemed more realistic.

The man saw Ghost, probably decided he was emotionally vulnerable, and decided to skulk around him. He asked, begged, pleading for Ghost to join his congregation.

Ghost turned him down each time, though he did love to see a pretty man beg. Once, he lifted lifted his mask, let him see the Glasgow smile cut into his cheeks. He hoped that Soap would assume gang member or miscreant and leave him alone, but it seemed to spur him on.

Soap MacTavish, savior of big buff men. Patron saint of being annoying.

Ghost started... watching him. The way he moved. His smile, just a little too wide with teeth a little too sharp.

He was... handsome. Seemingly kind. But Ghost was like a stray. He didn't trust affection and he wanted to keep it that way. No matter how honeyed Soap made his words or how kind the scraps he offered. Something about the man was unsettling.

Soap simply knocked on his door one day at dusk. Ghost only answered when he had his mask on. He had some kind of food in containers. "Hey! Several people I know made me these and gifted them to me, but I don't think I'll be able to eat all they gave me. Thought you might appreciate them. I know I'd be homesick, in such a new area."

Ghost stared at him, hands itching. "How did you know where I lived?"

"i knew the people who lived here before. Laid them to rest myself. Saw their last rites and all that. No other empty house around for miles."

"Other people know...?"

"Doubt it. Most don't think of you too much." Soap sniffed, looking around. "I assumed that's what you'd prefer."

"It is. Thanks."

Soap smiled. "I'll keep it between us." He kept standing there. Just waiting.

"I'm not going to invite you inside."

Immediately, those soft lips turned into a pouty frown. "At least take the desserts. I really do have no use for them."

Ghost didn't want to disappoint him for some reason, so he awkwardly took the food. "Okay. Address between us right?"

"Of course. With God as my witness." Soap grinned and left.

If Ghost would've thought about it, he'd made him promise to never come back as well. But he did not do that.

He went into his kitchen and opened the container.

Cranachan. Ghost had heard of it. The King of Scottish Desserts.

He grabbed a spoon and brought a bite to his mouth slowly. There was a thick cream with oats and raspberries. When he put a bite in his mouth, he could taste the honey and whiskey.

It was so good.

Ghost dug in on his couch. He was pretty sure this was supposed to be something he'd eat off for a few days, but he devoured all of it in one sitting. There was more of the raspberries sauce and Ghost found himself licking it from his fingers. A warmth settled in his chest from it.

Maybe Soap wasn't terrible.

Ghost got ready to start his routine of checking all of the windows and doors, but his couch suddenly felt so comfy. He felt his eyes start to close, the warmth spreading more.

For the first time since being a kid, Ghost slept all the way through the night with no nightmares.

Ghost cleaned up from the night before, feeling comfy. He noticed one of his windows was unlocked and chided himself for being so forgetful. After two sweeps of the house, he was sure no one was in his house and nothing was missing.

The dishes sat on the counter, suddenly suspicious. The idea of there being something in it was preposterous.

Ghost cleaned the dishes. "He's a fucking poster boy for good. You're being paranoid."

As time went on, he noticed things. Always on his porch or right outside. Tapping or animal noises or sometimes visions of someone right outside. The wonderful night of sleep was the last time he slept for a while.

Soap showed up again. A cross necklace Ghost couldn't remember seeing was around his neck. He looked apologetic as he had more of the delicious treat. "Sorry. It's raspberry season so everyone is making it and... well... I don't really have much of a sweet tooth."

Ghost looked at him coldly. "And you're bringing it to me? No orphans to give it to? Children to target?"

It was the first time Soap had looked upset at him. Ghost was a military man. He dealt with that constantly back in his troop. But for some reason, Soap's unhappiness got under his skin.

"No, Ghost. I just... thought you might be feeling lonely. Ya probably think I'm naive. Small town guy, always trying to talk to you..." He looked embarrassed. "Never met someone from Manchester. And before you ask, I figured it out by your accent."

Ghost looked at him for a few minutes before looking away to pretend he wasn't affected by him. "I don't."

"Gotcha... I can just... take the food."

"No. I'll still take that." Ghost quickly grabbed the home made food, noticing Soap's flash of a smile. He bit his lip as he cradled the food. "Look, I'm not a good guy. Definitely not someone you need around you."

Soap looked at him sadly. "Even outside of my faith, I still think all people deserve someone. I just... want to try to make you feel less lonely."

Ghost sighed. "Alright. Come in."

Soap got so excited. He carefully walked inside and glanced around, moving his weight back and forth between each foot.

Ghost sat on the chair he had. "Haven't exactly bought much furniture. But you're allowed to get comfy."

Soap grabbed the couch and smiled brightly. There was something about him. He looked at him and his eyes... had a shimmer to it.

Ghost paused, holding the bowl.

"Are you going to put it away? Or eat it right now?" Soap asked conversationally. He batted his eyelashes.

Ghost gnawed on the inside of his cheek. "Gonna put it away for now."

"I see. Have you been sleeping well? This place seems... so isolated. I don't think I could ever quite get a good sleep."

Ghost couldn't think of a good answer besides the truth. "Sleep has never came easy to me."

Soap frowned, batting his eyelashes at him. "I'm sorry. I hope it gets easier for you." He seemed so genuine. So sweet.

Ghost shrugged. "Thank you..."

They started to slip into rather easy banter, but he found his eyes getting heavier.

Soap got up and picked his way over. For a moment, Ghost was afraid. He almost lashed out, afraid. But he didn't touch him. He leaned in, eyes glowing against the backdrop of everything around them. "Sleep well, Ghost."

Ghost fell asleep on his chair. Soap locked the door on the way out but he didn't lock the windows.

Ghost found Tommy's photo album and went through them. He looked at the various photos of him and his family and he found himself missing them again. They looked so cute. So perfect. He left them on his coffee table, messy and covering every inch.

Joseph looked up at him, bright smiling face.

Simon was holding him. Blond curls that he spent too much time keeping bleached. No scarring.

He felt like he was going crazy as things... moved around his house. Things moved right out of the corner of his eyes. So he started preparing.

Guns were tucked into every hiding place he could. Knives even more so. He started to work out again for the first time in a few weeks. Luckily he hadn't lost too much of his physique.

Ghost eventually found himself eating the cranachan. He slept well. It was unsettling.

Right before dawn, Soap arrived at his house. The clouds were churning together but there was still some sunlight streaming through. "I brought coffee. Are you a coffee person?"

Ghost wasn't usually, but rather than deal with Soap's sad look again, he took the drink. He sipped it and found himself pleasantly surprised at how good it was.

Soap smiled. "Have any plans?"

"Gonna make breakfast... wanna join?" Why did he say that??

Soap smiled and quickly walked in. "I'd love to."

Ghost started to cook. He had been trying to learn more cooking lately so hopefully it wasn't too bad.

Soap looked thankful when he set it down and started to eat. They did so in basically silence. The cross necklace kept catching the light so he kept staring at it. When he lifted his gaze to look at his eyes, they made direct eye contact.

Soap's eyes. They were so dark. Like a shark.

Ghost felt for the gun under his side table. He tried to keep up conversation.

"Don't grab that gun, Simon."

Ghost paused what he was doing, watching the cross necklace sway where it sat. "What?"

Soap sighed. "Don't be like that. The gun your hand is on. Don't grab it." His nails clicked against the table. Too long. Too alarming. "Be a good boy, Simon."

Ghost stared at him, debating what could be done here.

"I'm not going to hurt you."

"What are you?"

"Not a danger to you." Soap answers a little pedantically. "I promise." His canines. They were long and curved.

Ghost glanced at the coffee. "You were drugging me."

Soap hummed. "No. More of a... side effect of my presence. You feeling anything right now?"

Ghost could feel something tugging at the edge of his consciousness but nothing too severe. "What do you want?"

Soap swallowed. "I'm hungry. Starving."

"You saw me up here. Being vulnerable. And decided you could fuc-"

"No. Not quite. I... I know you could keep a secret."

Ghost blinked, realizing the situation. "You're... asking."

Soap looked pained. "I am. A... deal. I keep everyone away. Tell them whatever I need so they leave you alone and I get to..." His eyes trailed to Ghost's throat.

"How bad is the feeding?"

"Not bad! I take about as much blood as a blood donation. Easy peasy. I'll even bring you food for recovery just please..."

Ghost undid the top button of his shirt and Soap looked ready to wiggle out of his seat. The poor man was salivating.

Why was he doing this?

it was stupid.

Idiotic.

Self-sacrificing.

The mask hit the table.

"Go for it."

Soap leapt over the table and sat in his lap. Teeth sank into his throat as he held him, holding him tight. They pressed together and Ghost could feel the unsettling chill that came from Soap.

He grabbed the table, almost white knuckling it.

Pain radiated from where he was being stabbed into and he felt himself go lightheaded. Soap's ass was pressed firmly to his lap though and it felt...

pleasurable.

Slowly he sank into it, feeling Soap take his fill.

His pretty boy thanked him, lips bright red from blood. "Thank you. Thank you. You're perfect. My angel from heaven."

Their lips touched and Ghost groaned softly.

Soap panted in his ear. "I'll be good. Promise. Take care of you." His claws sank into Ghost who was wondering how bad the situation he landed himself was.

[igglemouse]

Lets start this day with some big news! Our little Flora is officially too big for her crib which means she's grown some! They do grow fast, don't they? It's almost hard to keep up!

Just look at her! My little princesa! She's wiggling and cooing and happy as can be and what else is there to say? I'm soaking in the moment with her and have little else to say. I just feel so lucky and fortunate and I know I keep saying this but all my love is for her right now!

I would have played with her a little more but I think all that growing wore her out, as it tends to do, so I would let her have her nap and whip up a pizza! Pizzas are easy to make thankfully and this one will just be a regular classic pepperoni as you can't go wrong with that. I think I do make a pretty good pizza pie! That's amore!

I think the scent of pizza brings Pascal to the kitchen but when he arrives he's looking a little sad. I admit, the frown on his face makes me forget for a moment that he's been oogling models in his spare time and I can't wait to offer my emotional support.

"What's wrong?" I ask, putting aside his wandering eyes for just a moment. I bet it has something to do with futbol, usually if he's sad that is why, but I can't ignore one significant difference about him. "You umm, forget to shave?"

"That's just it, my razor broke and I might have to go out like this," he looks so disheartened even as he rubs the new beard that now adorns his face.

"You look great! In fact, I'd say keep it!"

"Well, if you say so."

I can't help but chuckle at how dramatic he's being. "You look fine either way! Actually, I think it suits you! You're a daddy now and it matures you some."

"I guess it's not so bad..." he mumbles although the frown on his face doesn't budge. I remind him that there is fresh pizza in the kitchen so if that doesn't make him feel a little better than I don't know what will.

I've decided not to bring up the model oogling just yet. Eventually, yes, but right now I just don't feel it is the right time. I've thought a lot about it last night but I want to keep those thoughts to the side, not let them consume me. He's a man. I know, that's a poor excuse, but it is also the truth. It is also the truth that really I'm still very very very much into him and that right now is enough for me to set it aside and give him the benefit of the doubt.

Instead, my mind drifts to bigger things, longer term things, another baby kind of things and maybe, hopefully, a proposal. Yeah, the big M. I can't help but wonder when it will happen or...if it will happen.

I'll be honest, I probably would've spent the rest of the night overthinking about Pascal's liking history on Simstagram but the moment I see Flora's little face it grounds me completely. She's the result of our passion and love and I won't throw that away on a whim. Feeding her, holding her, playing with her reminds me of what truly matters.

Oh! She loves to hiccup! That makes her a hiccuper? It's the most adorable thing, it's a squeaky little sound and whenever she does it she almost looks confused as if she's asking 'did I do that?' and I have to remind her to have manners! A little lady doesn't go around hiccuping at others after all!

And I love her so much that I am taking her everywhere I go in my little carrier. Thankfully, she's a quiet one and she's pretty calm about being carried around. Only wriggling and cooing here and there and hopefully taking in what will hopefully be her home for many years to come.

Oh! Also, as I'm out and about, I notice that people are recognizing me? Nothing major, a few waves and hellos along with my name "Frida!" and I can't help but wonder is it from my food stand or me new growing SimTube channel? Either way, it does feel nice to be noticed! There's even a fellow food stand chef who offered me a free hotdog but I had to decline because Flora started to whine and flail, her way of wanting to go back home I think.

Oh, and Pascal did spend time with Flora after he came back from a game. I SWEAR she was giving him the side-eye. I might have ummm vented to her about the traveling eyes of men. Not that she could understand a word I've said but maybe, just maybe, she picked up on it in my tone...or it could be she's unsure of him because she really doesn't get to see him too much, he's always working, after all.

Meanwhile, in the poorer part of town, Sara and Simón were curled up together in his humble trailer. He had called her over saying that there was something important they needed to discuss but it didn't end up being much of a conversation. Instead, he simply asked for her loyalty and her love.

She wanted to, she wanted him to be the one, Watcher how she wanted to. He could be her escape, her distraction, her addiction, her everything, how she wanted every bit of that, but she knows oft times the heart doesn't get what it wants. The brain though, the brain can be a lot more realistic with its desires.

"I know what you are," she said suddenly, the realization blowing past her like a chill breeze. Her hands roamed his chest, the tips of her fingers searching for something, reassurance, maybe? The mystery of him perhaps, the missing puzzle piece that would make this thing between them work.

"I know you'd figure it out," his reply was quiet and his voice heavy. He wasn't shocked. He wouldn't deny it or talk her out of it. He couldn't run from his past like Frida because he had become his past and now as he looked at Sara he wondered if she could ever be part of his future. If she should. The danger he could put her through..."So, what do you think?"

"I don't want this to end," she decided, the words surprising even herself. Maybe, just maybe, he was worth the risk. Love is always worth the risk...

Frida Varela - Next Episode 9.5

[leviismybby]

AOT veterans men and random things/kinks they do during sex

Levi Ackerman, Erwin Smith and Miche Zacharias x fem!reader (NSFW 18+, minors dni)

Levi

Marking, Levi bites on any skin that he puts his lips on. He likes having you in missionary not only because he can see the pleasure he brings you and kiss you but because he gets a chance to color your neck in dark purple marks that will stain your skin for days. He won't spare your thighs, stomach and hips either. "Mmm look at that, are you going to cover up these? Or let the whole world see how much you love being marked by me."

Spanking, especially in doggystyle, Levi's hand comes down harshly against your skin leaving red prints behind as he fucks you roughly. He also loves spanking your thighs while eating you out. As soon as your thighs try to close around his head, he lands a harsh slap on your skin. "Be a good girl, keep those pretty fucking legs spread."

Overstimulation, Levi likes the thought of being the only thing in your brain and he won't stop until he hears you say it. You have cum countless times around his cock, his tongue,but Levi wasn't yet satisfied. His fingers work on you at a ruthless pace, your thighs shake, and filthy moans leave your swollen lips. "Gonna cum again for me yeah? Gonna show me how much you love it when your Captain makes you cum yeah? Scream my fucking name."

Choking, Levi enjoys choking you during sex, any position where he can grab your neck is good for him. His rough thrusts make you roll your eyes back, whimpers leaving your lips. "Why the useless stupid sounds baby? I already know that you love getting fucked like a whore."

Degradation, Levi can be very mean at times especially if he thinks that you deserved it, he usually praises you, so you learned to take it as punishment if he gets rude with words. His cock pounds into your mercilessly, almost making you scream. "You're nothing but a slut aren't you? A slut for my cock, I can be the worst man on earth and you would still let me fuck you into oblivion."

Erwin

Cockwarming, Erwin loves having you ride him while he is busy with work and he also loves halting all of your movements and having your warm walls wrapped around his cock. No matter how much you beg for him to move, he doesn't. "Don't get ahead of yourself dear, I'm the one in control, and if you keep complaining It'll be like this for the rest of the night."

Belly bulge, his blue eyes land on the little bulge that appears when he pushes his thick cock deep inside of you. He can't help but put his hand against it, pressing down on it, watching you lose your mind beneath him. "Look at how deep inside of you I am darling, look."

Authority kink, Erwin gets extra into it if you call him Commander. He enjoys the fact that he has this power over you on and off the bed. As soon as you call him by his name, he stops moving taking your jaw and making you look at him. "That's not my name is it? Already forgot who I am I see, let's change that."

Creampie, he has absolutely zero shame about it, the sight of your legs shaking as his cum drips out of you will always be his favorite. Erwin cums deep inside of you and sometimes even hopes that your belly will be growing with his child. "Gonna breed you sweetheart, wanna make me a daddy? You'll look so pretty with my children inside of your belly dear."

Blindfold sex, again Erwin loves control and there is nothing better than seeing you with your eyes covered as he has his way with you, slapping your dripping cunt before diving his head between your thighs. "You want to see me? Too bad, I'll have you shaking and crying once I'm done with you my sweet."

Miche

Nipple play, his big hands love teasing and playing with your nipples. Miche will always take his time when his mouth is on your nipple, swirling his tongue around your buds and sucking them gently. "I haven't even touched you where you need me most and you're already cumming? Naughty girl."

Size kink, Miche is a big guy and he enjoys manhandling you like no one else. He picks you up so effortlessly and slams you down on his cock, your body looks small to his in comparison. "My word how easy you are to break, look at how wet you are."

Praise, as much as he loves being rough with you, Miche is a gentle giant. He would kiss your face in little pecks and whisper in your ear. "You're taking me so well, love. Such a good girl for me. I'll give so much more if you want."

Gagging, he has his hand tangled in your hair as you struggle to take him in your mouth, don't worry he knows what to do. He presses you further down onto his cock and you gag slightly, drool dripping down the side of your lips onto him. "You love it don't you? When I choke you on my cock like that, good girl."

Bondage, a piece of advice, don't piss him off or else you're in for a ride. Miche has you tied to his headboard as he ever so slowly makes his way between your thighs. "Have I not told you to behave? If you moan once, I'll put a gag in your mouth understand? Let's see if my pretty girl can handle it."

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

Taglist: @youre-ackermine @the-milk-anon @sixpennydame @notgoodforlife @levisbrat25 @levisgreyeyes @luvjiro @lovolee3 @ackermendick @laraackerman

[flying-fangirls]

Watching my little (half) joke post after Part 43 spark some discussion has made me think a lot over this for the past couple days, and I think I've pinpointed my main frustration with the women of Malevolent overall.

Simply put: the women of Malevolent do not get to have a voice.

Yes, literally they aren't voice-acted by Harlan. But I don't really want to get into that side of the topic here. I'm saying figuratively women do not have their own voice in this show.

Who is Bella outside of her relationships to Arthur or Daniel? Did she like music too, was she sarcastic or sincere, what was her biggest goal in life? Who is Faroe outside of how she makes Arthur feel? Who are Anna and Amanda outside of their connections to the King in Yellow? And I don't mean just a quick sentence-long description about them, I mean a genuine in-depth answer to "Who are they?"

Secondary characters that are men/male-aligned (Noel, Oscar, Collins, etc) have a strong sense of individual personality and motivations, enough that you could get a decent amount of discussion/analysis about them if you wanted. You can't get that kind of character discussion for the women if you tried because the show simply does not provide it for you, no matter how integral to the plot their characters (or concept of a character) may be. Heck, Shub set up the plot of this whole show and yet she's so nothing of a character that she's practically just a name to throw around when it sounds cool.

Almost everything we know about the women comes from men's perspectives, either through their side of relationships or through quick mentions of the women without any real substance to who those women really were. Other people have suggested the idea of finding a journal or a few more letters from Amanda to give her character more time/attention-- something similar could be done with any of the other women too, anything that lets their personalities/unique motivations be directly shown instead of vaguely mentioned or hinted at by men.

(I'll admit that I do think Marie is written more along the lines of secondary characters like Oscar, and I'm pretty happy with her character! But the fact that she's the only woman I can think of to break that pattern is... not great)

And yes I know that there are men in this show that also do not get to have their own voice (Roland, Parker, Henry, etc.) That's expected! All stories have characters that act as collateral or tools to move the plot/main characters forward. But when every single female character serves as a plot device with no strong sense of unique self, while only some of the male characters get that same treatment and the rest get plenty of personality and individuality-- that's when it becomes a problem.

The women of Malevolent get names (or, some of them do), they get roles and influence within the plot, and a few of them get small glimpses of what could be a personality if you look for it. But the women of Malevolent do not get a voice. We can see the vague shape of them on the edges of the show, but we never get the chance to hear them. And they never get the chance to speak themselves, to be heard.

I love Malevolent-- really, truly love this show. Which is why it's only so much more frustrating for me when it overall struggles to give its female characters the same respect as its male characters. Again, I'm not talking about the voice-acting, and I completely skipped the expanded cast of female characters (the wraith, the widow, the witch, etc.) and my concerns with what kinds of women are represented in the show and how they're presented. This post is really just me trying to express a genuine frustration that I (and at least a few other people) have with the writing of this show, and try to explain why those frustrations exist.

I promise this is NOT meant to be an attack on anyone and I'm not trying to deny other perspectives on this topic. This is also NOT an attack on Harlan or the podcast as a whole. I'm just trying to share some thoughts here.

[askinkiskarma]

𝔏𝔬𝔬𝔨 𝔞𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲, 𝔶𝔬𝔲'𝔯𝔢 𝔡𝔬𝔦𝔫' 𝔰𝔲𝔠𝔥 𝔞 𝔤𝔬𝔬𝔡 𝔧𝔬𝔟

dilf!jake x f!reader

wc: 2.5k words

warnings: 18+ minors DNI (I MEAN IT), pwp, smut (praise kink through the fucking roof, bondage, p in v, fingering, oral - f and m receiving, age gap, dacryphilia, daddy kink, choking, pet names, overstimulation, semi-public sex, spanking, anal play, toy use, slight degradation kink, multiple orgasms, cockwarming), mentions of blood/spit, strong language, this list is endless wtf

a/n: once more it is clear that i ain't seeing the pearly white gates of heaven anytime soon, but outside of that, i dedicate this fic to lys' coochie

also pls do yourself a favour and listen to russ - nasty while u read this ok enjoy xo

I know everyone wants a pretty girl like you You look so good when you put me inside you Listen, there ain't nothin' like that moan when the tip's in Good God, look at you, you're doin' such a good job

"you're gonna be a good girl for daddy, right?"

you have to admit to yourself that when you started being trained under the tutelage of the toruk makto, the mighty olo'eyktan of the omaticaya, this isn't at all how you envisioned it going - but at this exact moment, limbs spread widely and tied up to the pillars of his tent, a blindfold covering your eyes and heightening all your other senses, his raspy, soft voice filling your ears while his hands are massaging the plush skin of your inner thighs, you can't find it in you to care.

"i need words, baby girl."

"y-yes, daddy. i'll be g-good, i promise."

"that's my girl."

"you look so good like this, kid. so, so good."

his hands trail gently over your body in barely-there touches, that set every inch of your body on fire, alight with anticipation and ache, desperate for more, needy for the pleasure you knew he was going to provide. it doesn't matter how many times you've found yourself like this, sprawled naked in his tent, contorted in whatever position he deemed appropriate at any one time, it would always be as intense as the first time - he wouldn't have it any other way.

when he reaches your breasts, his hand stalls, capturing a nub in between his thumb and index, no longer just a fluttering whisper of a caress but a pressured twisted unwieldy grip that makes a moan escape your parted lips and you hear his low chuckle, the most beautiful sound you've ever heard, second only to the uninhibited groan that he he can't help but exhale whenever you milk his cock dry.

"you have the prettiest tits i've ever seen, baby. perfect, just like the rest of you."

you feel the tingling in your extremities from the way the ropes tug at your wrists and ankles, but it's nothing compared to the throbbing in your core as his hand finds your throat and squeezes, as you feel the air getting knocked out of you, as the darkness no longer just envelopes your sight but the whole of you, as his cock, hard and unclothed, teases your entrance with a uncontrolled twitch, and the feel of it makes you squirm, pulling on your restraints in order to bring your legs together, to no avail.

Jake lets go of your neck with a dissatisfied tsk. You gasp when his canines sink into your lower lips and bite until it hurts and you feel the rusty taste of blood inundating your mouth. His tongue swipes the excess fluid before he kisses you, roughly and carelessly and you love it, love the feel of his mouth on yours, of his hands on your throat, love nothing more than being just daddy's little girl.

"if you want to get fucked tonight, kid, you have to be good, remember?"

"but d-daddy... i need you... i need to s-see you, i n-need your...cock, please, daddy!"

you couldn't help the way your voice was breaking and words stuttered as his unrelenting teasing made the throbbing sensations and ache to be filled reach torturous heights, or the way tears pricked painfully at your eyes as you couldn't stand not seeing him, not being able to tell what he'll do next, not being able to move your thighs to ease some of the discomfort.

"shh, princess... you have to trust daddy, mm? you know daddy will take care of his little girl."

you're sure the mewl you let out as he slips two fingers in your dripping cunt would be heard in the whole village and you knew he loved it - he loved when you screamed, and yelled, loved when you had to walk through the forest marked and bruised for everyone to see, loved when his cum was dripping down your thighs and how your scent was forever permeated by his own, so nobody could ever question who you belonged to.

his fingers were skilled and deliberate as they moved inside of you, curling on a spongy part that made you shut your eyes tightly and allow the tears to finally fall down your contorted face, his thumb drawing shapes on your clit, that was now red and swollen, desperate for more pressure.

"more, daddy, i need more!" the sobs stir something inside Jake, balls heavy and itching to spill their load inside you, but not yet. you weren't ready yet.

"why're you crying, kid? you need to be stuffed with daddy's cock so badly?"

asking questions he already knew the answers to seemed pointless and unnecessary, but he needed to hear you say it, or moan it, or mumble it - needed to see you, crying and helpless, just a little doll who needs someone to show you what you deserve, what you can take. you'd be wasted on a scrub your own age, who would never know how to handle you, who would never know what to do with you. you needed a man, and he was more than happy to fill that role for you, and... anything else that needed it.

the reality is better than any fantasy his mind could have concocted as you nod aggressively, breasts bouncing as you pull once more on the harness that's starting to hurt your wrists just enough that to walk the line between pleasure and pain.

"soon, baby. you're not ready for it yet. need to stretch this little pussy before you can take me, you know this."

his pace increases as his long digits slip in and out of you, as his lips find your clit and suck on it, as his tongue laps at the juices that you couldn't help coat his face and fingers with, and you feel every ounce of power and self slip away from your grasp, slowly but surely becoming just a tangled mess of feeling, chaotic and overpowering, no thoughts outside of how much you wanted this, how much you needed him, how much this man had a tight hold on every facet of your being and you happily gave it up, knowing there's no better feeling then being wholly owned.

"that's it, come for daddy."

it pushes you over the edge, the purr of his voice and the vibrations they release on your folds, and you come, loudly and uninhibitedly, shaking as your orgasm washes over you in intense waves of pleasure that go on and on, as his tongue and fingers stretch you, until you're so overstimulated you find your tears once more, your screams dwindling into whines you couldn't help release.

"i know, princess. doing so well for me. doing so well for daddy."

"open your mouth."

as always, when it came to jake sully, you obeyed without question. his fingers find their way down your throat and you immediately close your lips around them, swirling your tongue around and in between them, sucking them dry the way you would his cock, that you couldn't wait choke on later tonight. you loved the taste of your own cum on him, and so you cleaned his fingers thoroughly before he pulled them out and wrapped them around the blindfold that was covering your eyes.

"such a good girl. now i want you to watch as daddy fills you with his cock."

it felt sometimes you spent more times like this than not, overwhelmingly full, shaking in earth-shattering pleasure, this time on all fours, this time with a human contraption you have never imagined would ever exist, but not only it did, it was stuffed in you to the brim, sending waves of vibrations throughout your entire body, while jake watched intently, circling you so he can see you come undone from every angle.

"you like that, huh? 'course you do, kid. my baby's just a little slut, just wants her holes filled, don't you?"

you couldn't find it in you to answer, not when the little machine shook you to the core, not when you couldn't decide what was taking precedence in your mind: the sensations that were so powerful they were making patches appear in your vision, the sight of Jake's hands tightly wrapped around his cock, pumping himself vigorously while he watched you fall apart in front of him, or the worries that someone will definitely see and hear you, be it as you were, just barely covered by shrubbery, in a place that Na'vi frequented way too often - almost in view, just how he liked it.

"answer me, princess."

you nod quietly, trying to stifle the moans as his palm makes contact with the plush of your ass, the slap loud enough to attract attention if anybody were to be close, and your orgasm comes sharply into focus, so close you can taste it, and you knew that when it came, it would be enough to bring you to your knees, something he seems to have accounted for. when he increases the intensity with the little remote he had in between his fingers, you lower yourself until your face makes contact with your extended arm. before you know it, you bite down on the skin as hard as you can, canines drawing blood at the way you were trying to be quiet - anything to minimise the chance of being caught. it all becomes too much to handle when he spreads your ass and spits on it, lubricating you enough to push two fingers in your tight hole, and you cry out a muffled cry when you come, convulsing as you ride out your high, as you squirt all over the vibrator, gushes of liquid dripping down your thighs.

he pulls out of you and circles you once more, until he's facing you, and you can barely see straight, crying from being overstimulated, unable to distinguish pain from pleasure, as the toy still moves inside of your abused cunt, unrelenting and too intense.

his hand wraps around your hair, tugging on it til the bite marks were all that was left of your mouth on your forearm, and you look at him through your eyelashes, trying not to get distracted by how his cock was slapping on your cheek.

"sweet girl, if you want something to keep you from making sounds, i have something so much better than an arm. now, be a good girl and let daddy fuck this pretty mouth, how's that sound?"

you smile a sheepish smile, cunt clenching around the vibrator once more, as jake strokes his thick cock, the sweet precum falling over your lips and chin, and you don't waste a drop, swiping your tongue over your lower lip to catch all of it, moaning at the taste.

"open y'r mouth for me, kid."

jake is gentle as he slowly enters you, letting you adjust to his thick girth that presses on the roof of your mouth, your tongue flat against the underside of his length, loving the feel of every vein and memorising every curve and indentation as he slides further in, gagging as his tip tickles the back of your throat. saliva coats his cock and spills down his balls, and you want to protest slightly, when it feels like you can't breathe anymore, when the tears push past your glossy eyes and down your cheeks, until his words remind you who's in charge, and that, while he is, obeying means pleasure beyond your wildest dreams.

"relax, baby girl." his thumb traces your under eye, gathering the salty drops before they can stain your perfect face. "relax for daddy. breathe through your nose. there you go, princess. just like that."

you mewl, able to fit even more of him in you, and the sound reverberates through his length and you watch as he pushes his head back, a thin layer of sweat barely visible on his beautiful face, scarred from years of fights and battle, some of which happened when you were just a baby, an ever-present reminder of the differences between you, that you not only didn't mind, but were what drew you to him in the first place. jake is strong, and capable. he is mighty and revered. he knows you, knows what you want, what you need. he knows your mind needs quieting, and to be devoid of thoughts and worries, and while you were in his presence, he was more than happy to empty that pretty little head of yours and fill your body with his cum instead.

"f-fuck, that's right. good girl. taking daddy's cock so well, mm? my best girl."

his hand finds the top of your head as he pets you, soft caresses enough to spur you on, and you suck on his length enthusiastically, focusing on the tip whenever he pulls out before thrusting himself back in, using your mouth like a toy to get himself off. the groans he makes are low and unrestrained and it sends bouts of electricity throughout your whole body. you did this to him. you were bringing this great man to the edge of his self-control, and that thought alone was enough to heighten all the sensations given by the machine still vibrating in your soaked cunt and his cock stuffed down your throat, and when you come again, he does, too, and you make sure to swallow everything he gives you, watching as he pulls out, still stroking himself so some of his warm, sticky cum paints your face, just the way he likes it.

"you look so pretty like this, kid. red eyes, rosy cheeks, swollen lips, face covered in my cum. perfect for me, aren't you? daddy's little slut."

nights, when jake slips into your tent after everyone's asleep, are filled with slower, gentler, quiet times, where his big body cages you in, his arms draped across your sides, his large hands caressing your breasts and abdomen, and you feel safe in him, in his comforting presence and his sensual, praising words. you go to sleep with his cock deep in you, the way you wish to spend every minute of your every day. you can't help the way you stir in your sleep, desire building up in you from the feel of his length dragging along your walls as you move, from how his breath fans across the nape of your neck, sending tingles down your spine. you let out a soft mewl as you start grinding on him, unsure whether you want him to wake up or not, unable to come to a decision before his hoarse voice startles you.

"you're gonna kill an old man like me, kid. fucked you dumb 'til you passed out and you still need more?"

his fingers dig into your hips, pushing you back on his length until he bottoms out in you, and you yelp, the sensation overwhelming.

"go ahead, then. daddy wants to see you fuck yourself on his cock."

you smile and oblige. no matter how life would ever change for you, you knew you'd be alright, because he would always be here to take care of you and you'd always be daddy's little girl.

happy daddy jake's day and i hope you enjoyed my little present, besties 🫶🏻

taglist: @headsincloud9 @teyamsbitch @lanasblood @yagirlheree @fanboyluvr @jakexneytiri (you didn't ask to be tagged dani bb but this is for torturing me yesterday)

[phaticserpent]

I wonder if you have any headcanons or dribbles of Ultron with a pregnant reader?

👀 the way I'd be pregnant for this man (I'm terrified of pregnancy and childbirth)

Warning: mentions of pregnancy (?) Child labor

He is the absolute best at everything.....i mean,it's Ultron

He makes sure he does research in every single area for pregnancy; he needs to make sure he stays informed with everything

Handles you gently and carefully; he is at your side whenever you need him

Either will be understanding of your pregnancy cravings and bring them to you, OR makes a healthier alternative option for you. No in-between

"I want chocolate...."

"Chocolate isn't good for you or the baby"

"I want chocolate."

"Okay, I'll get you chocolate" He gets everything in chocolate; chocolate ice cream, chocolate milkshake, chocolate anything for the entire day until you want another craving

Makes sure all the sharp edges in the house/apartment are child proofed, he doesn't want you bumping into them and getting into an accident

Carries you around with no complaint or struggles; heck, you wouldn't even need to get out of bed with him around

Will be putting on Mozart or Beethoven for the fetus to listen to

"It's good for them, they'll be smart like you."

You don't have to worry about any chores: the house? Clean within a blink and no traces of dust. The garbage? Taken care of, you don't even need to ask

Makes sure you're okay and comfortable; whenever you express hints of pain, he'll definitely panic and get into doctor-mode

"I have some great names picked out, if you haven't thought of any yet."

"Babe, I'm only on my second term."

"Can't be too prepared."

Cute dates with him like movie nights but the couch is just as comfortable as a bed; he has soft blankets and pillow all around

When it comes to later in the pregnancy, he's super anxious; he makes double the portion size that he would usually make

Will accompany you to the bathroom in the middle of the night, it doesn't matter, he will start fussing if you don't wake him up

"I don't want to bother you...."

"Nonsense. Bother me, your safety is not a hindrance for me. My system shut down is more insignificant"

"Babe, please."

Obviously he won't go inside and respects your privacy, but he will stand outside the door just in case

If you have work and your boss is being an incompetent fool, I know for sure that Ultron would fight with him via email

Ultron would grumble, ".....pathetic, what kind of nincompoop wouldn't give maternity leave? I hope his business burns and he goes bankrupt....."

You'd snicker at his use of vocabulary

And then the time arrives,

"....Ultron....."

"Hm?"

"I think it's happening....."

Immediate panic; he obviously handles everything, he calls his sentries and all that is needed to start the procedure

He doesn't really trust human doctors, plus he wants to be there next to you for the moment. He would be the most attentive doctor/medical personnel - the procedure and labor would be a major success!

He would also treat you to whatever you wanted after. To him, the first priority is your well-being after something so energy inducing/exhausting, then the attention would go to the baby (of course, he would place the baby in your arms before giving you attention you need)

He would definitely take care of the child so you could get the rest you need and deserve

At first, he would be too terrified to handle the baby....even if he knows how and the proper care for it - he's terrified of the idea of rejection from the baby, he doesn't want it to be afraid of him

However, the baby did not care at all. It babbled incoherently and reached out for Ultron, placing its tiny hands on his cheek to feel the coolness of the metal

"......this baby, I would kill for it." Ultron smiled. I only had them for a day and a half, but if anything happened, I would kill everyone and then myself type

He's good with kids, to an extent

[alexanderwales]

Do you have any posts where you elaborate on this?

"My thesis is that to understand storytelling, you want to understand root issues and classes of solutions ... There are a lot of writing problems that are parallel to each other, and there are a lot of structural elements that are mirrors of each other, so why not try to put it all together that way?"

I don't think I do, so I'll do that briefly here.

Here's the thesis: I have a strong suspicion that there are only a handful of elemental aspects of storytelling that all have their root in human psychology. The easiest ones to name are "engagement", "investment", and "surprise", but once we start looking at these things, I think we can start to understand how "different" writing problems are actually the same writing problem in disguise. Knowing this, we can start listing out solutions to those problems, and solutions that work on one type of problem can also work on a different type.

The brain is good at pattern-recognition and pattern-completion. When we read fiction, we're always trying to complete the patterns, consciously or otherwise. This isn't some LLM-style "predict next token", it's a matter of having an internal model of the characters, the setting, the narrative, etc. But humans don't like the ability to perfectly predict things, at least usually, they like there to be some measure of surprise.

So this is one fundamental aspects of fiction: the tension between predictability and surprise. There's a lot of writing advice that flows from this, and a lot of tools of writing come from here: foreshadowing, plot twists, punchlines, the effective use of tropes. When something isn't working, it's often on the predictability-surprise axis, and a lot of the tools there boil down to "make this more predictable" or "make this more surprising". And this extends from the micro (individual sentences) to the macro (the whole plot). It's why we write cliffhangers, it's how we manage suspense, it's how we structure a paragraph for maximum impact. This is, in part, where the fundamental concept of "tension" from from.

And I think there are a few things like that, relatively atomic concepts that we want to look at, that a good book on writing would interrogate and give advice for, with the understanding that these things overlap with each other.

I don't have time to write a whole book (or 4-5 longish blog posts), and wouldn't trust myself to actually nail it, but here are some of the things that I think ought to be in there:

Conflict and cognitive dissonance, jarring the brain with opposing statements that grind together like mismatched gears, includes juxtaposition

Unfoldingness and picture-painting, forcing the reader to use cognitive load to render the world through words, character actions, descriptions, etc. Includes most of "show, don't tell" and also explains why that's sometimes not good advice.

Emotional resonance, how to create and maintain empathy with a character and activate mirror neurons. Includes both empathy cultivation and empathy discharge.

Pacing and rhythm, and making sure you don't hit the same note too many times, allow the brain to rest, use all parts of the brain, etc.

Meaning and connection-building, how to weave a theme, how to say something, how to have disparate elements come together, because people love when disparate elements come together and the parts become a whole

And so my problem with a book like Save the Cat!, where I think this ask comes from, is that it gives a bunch of very narrow advice, and you walk away with an understanding that yeah, you need a moment early on that establishes this character as someone to root for, and then gives a bunch of weird contradictory examples of what that means, and some of those examples are actually tying in other bits of fundamentals, like surprise, having something unfold in the reader's head, empathy, etc.

I'm actually going to give one example of what I mean, directly from the book, though I had packed it away on my shelf never to be seen again:

Save the what? I call it the "Save the Cat" scene. They don't put it into movies anymore. And it's basic. It's the scene where we meet the hero and the hero does something — like saving a cat — that defines who he is and makes us, the audience, like him. In the thriller, Sea of Love, Al Pacino is a cop. Scene One finds him in the middle of a sting operation. Parole violators have been lured by the promise of meeting the N.Y. Yankees, but when they arrive it's Al and his cop buddies waiting to bust them. So Al's "cool." (He's got a cool idea for a sting anyway.) But on his way out he also does something nice. Al spots another lawbreaker, who's brought his son, coming late to the sting. Seeing the Dad with his kid, Al flashes his badge at the man who nods in understanding and exits quick. Al lets this guy off the hook because he has his young son with him. And just so you know Al hasn't gone totally soft, he also gets to say a cool line to the crook: "Catch you later..." Well, I don't know about you, but I like Al. I'll go anywhere he takes me now and you know what else? I'll be rooting to see him win. All based on a two second interaction between Al and a Dad with his baseball-fan kid.

And this, to me, is only half a diagnosis of what that scene is doing. It's a good scene, but there's a setup and payoff within it, an inherent tension to whether Al Pacino is going to cuff this guy, it's prediction-surprise stuff, it's "show, don't tell". There's a lot going on with it, and if you don't come at it like that, if you just say to people "oh, you need to give us someone to root for" they're going to do boring things like having the hero literally save a cat.

And then this also doesn't help them later on when they have to write other scenes!

I hope this answers your question, possibly I will find the will to write an essay series later on, but this is at least some fraction of my (current) view on craft.

[bonny-kookoo]

Hi bonny ninny, ruu here

I like your 'Why not' & 'How so' series.

I feel like oc is tone sensitive. Would you write a drabble where Jungkook uses a tone which hurts & upsets oc. Like they are not even arguing but something about tobe hurts her. How would Jungkook consoles her? They would be so cute in this DDLG theme. 🥺

"At this rate I'm gonna have to sleep back at my place again." Jungkook laughs, as he watches you make your bed, adjusting all the different stuffed animals.

You're not sure what exactly he means by that. Or more so, how serious he is.

You don't want him to sleep back at his place and leave you alone- you've become too attached and fond of his late night cuddling and the way he warms up the bed beneath the blankets, but you also love your stuffed animals too much to give them away, or let them simply sit on a shelf. Is he making you choose?

Do you want to choose?

The entire rest of the early day, you can't stop overanalyzing his words, no matter what. You're suddenly hyper-sensitive to the way he says stuff, the tone of his voice, the words he uses, or his body language accompanying every sentence. Is he really that annoyed by you and your habits? But you thought he liked you the way you really are?

"Let me do that for you." He says as you stir in the pot preparing some warm food for the two of you, hand taking the spoon from you. "Can't have you making a mess again like last time." He chuckles, but something in the way he shakes his head just.. makes you feel oddly guilty.

You're not that good at keeping up attention to one thing only for long. You're not sure why- it's not even that you can't cook, you just start doing ten things at once, and just like last time, a few days prior, things boil over and spill, or stuff almost burns in the pan or the oven almost stays on for too long. You can't help it.

Maybe he's starting to have second thoughts. Just like you feared.

"M' sorry." You mumble when he places the filled up bowl in front of you, hand stuttering a bit as he frowns.

"What're you sorry for?" He wonders, sitting down across from you, watching how you only reluctantly pick up your spoon to swirl it around in your bowl, watching the ingredients dance around in the broth. "Eyes up here, baby." He requests, and you do so- though only for a second.

"I'll.. try and put the plushies away." You explain, looking down again. "And I'll concentrate better when cooking too. And I'll start making sure I'll keep track of my own stuff and-" You rant, but he reaches out to hold your hand, stopping you.

"What's brought that up?" He wonders, confused. "You don't have to get rid of stuff, and neither do you need to do better at anything." He offers.

"But I'm annoying you." You say, meekly. "You said you won't sleep here anymore with all the stuffies in my bed-"

"Oh fuck, baby, no-" He sighs, laughing a bit to himself. "How long has that been bubbling up inside you?" He asks, and you shrug. "I'm sorry if I made it seem like I was upset at you. I was just picking on you a little- I didn't mean to make you feel like you did something wrong." He reassures.

"But you're right?" You answer, and he shakes his head again.

"Am I?" He chuckles. "You love your stuffed animals. I know you've got a name for each and every one of them, and that's cute. And they don't bother me at all, since you put them on the carpet every night anyways- it just looks funny with how much space they take up during the day." Jungkook explains. "And I also know that you've got a bit of trouble staying focused, so I'm not mad when you get a bit sidetracked while cooking. If anything, I only worry sometimes, which is why I tend to take over sometimes, to make sure you don't get hurt." He moves on. "I really don't mind keeping your doctors appointments or other stuff in mind. I don't mind doing stuff for you, or taking care of you. I really don't." He presses on. "I love you the way you are. I'd be stupid to try and change you."

"I don't know why I thought you meant something bad." You mumble, and he yet again just smiles.

"It was most likely my tone. Let's make an agreement, alright?" He says, and you nod. "I'll be more clear to tell you when I'm only making fun- and you'll tell me if you think I'm being too mean."

You nod at that, glad that it was only a huge misunderstanding-

happy that you were wrong after all.

[helloalycia]

𝐈 𝐕𝐎𝐋𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐑 [𝐓𝐖𝐎] // 𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐘 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐘 𝐁𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐃

summary: Reaping Day is finally upon you and you know what you have to do, but there's only one problem: Lucy Gray wouldn't let you.

warning/s: again, the usual warnings that come with writing the Hunger Games stuff + potential suicidal themes.

author's note: this is the second and final part - i do hope you all like it. also i hope the person who requested it enjoys!!

one / masterlist / wattpad

Reaping Day was fast approaching, taking place next week, and I still wasn't sure what to do. I hadn't told Lucy Gray nor the Covey of Mayfair's plan, but it was killing me inside. After a lot of thought, I soon made a decision. The only thing I was certain about was that I couldn't allow Lucy Gray to have her life stolen away, not when mine was right there for the taking. So, I was going to take her place. As long as the Capitol had their tribute, they wouldn't care who it was.

But Lucy Gray would. She'd never allow it, never be so selfish as to let someone else volunteer to die for her. But I could never let her go up there to die, so with that in mind, I concocted the perfect plan to keep her alive.

The night before the reaping arrived, I'd managed to convince Lucy Gray to let me sleep over at hers, claiming I was worried and wanted to feel safe on an otherwise horrible evening. Of course, she fell for it instantly, only reminding me of how right I was to do this. She was too sweet for her own good, especially to me.

The rest of the Covey were in their rooms preparing for bed when I returned from the kitchen to Lucy Gray's room with two glasses of water.

"Here," I said, passing her the glass before taking a seat on my makeshift bed on the floor beside her actual bed.

"Thanks," she said, before taking a sip. She pulled a face and looked at her glass. "Does that taste weird to you?"

I sipped my own water and played dumb, shaking my head. "It's alright to me."

She furrowed her brows, "Huh," before downing the rest of it and putting it next to her bed.

I told myself that slipping some of my dad's crushed sleeping pills in her water was for her own good, that it needed to happen to keep her safe, but a small part of me still felt guilty for tricking her like this. I needed her to sleep in though, to miss the reaping, or at least miss the part where they call her name. After all, she couldn't stop me from volunteering if she wasn't there to witness it happen.

We both laid down in our beds, getting comfortable under our duvets. In the quiet of the evening, I could hear Tam Amber snoring from next door and smiled to myself at the familiarity. It would be the last I'd hear of it, ever.

"I don't have a good feelin' about tomorrow," Lucy Gray said quietly, earning my attention.

"Huh?"

She sounded cautious. "Something is tellin' me Mayfair has something' up her sleeve." I widened my eyes slightly, wondering if she knew what I did, but then she let out a deep, tired sigh and said, "I can't wait for it to be over."

I frowned to myself. "Me too."

She yawned, and I knew I didn't have long before she'd fall asleep, which meant I only had so much time left with her before I'd never speak to her again. That thought alone brought tears to my eyes.

"No matter what happens tomorrow, I'm glad you've been my friend, Lucy Gray," I said honestly.

"Shut up," she said lightheartedly, an echo of a laugh present in her tired voice. "You're already sayin' goodbye and nothin' has happened."

"You never know," I said, glad that it was dark so she couldn't see me, because I wasn't sure I could say all this to her face. "Just listen, okay? I need you to know that I love you and I couldn't have asked for a better person in my life. Thank you for always being there for me. For caring."

"I love you, too," she said between a yawn, "more than you know, darlin'. And I'll tell you again tomorrow mornin', when we're still together. Idiot."

A smile formed on my lips at her teasing, but the tears slipped from my eyes because I was going to miss her so much, so much more than she would ever know.

"Y/N?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you, too, for bein' here right now," she said, though she was already slipping away, voice slowing down between each word.

"Of course," I said quietly. "Always."

She chuckled, or an attempt at a chuckle in her exhausted state. "I'll hold you to that," she said jokingly, before yawning again. "Mmm super tired. G'night..."

"Goodnight, Lucy Gray."

When I woke up to the sun shining in my eyes the next morning, I looked over at Lucy Gray and saw her fast asleep in bed. I tried to wake her, but she didn't budge, and I prayed that it would stay that away until the reaping was over.

Quickly getting ready, I could hear the others doing the same in the house. And then a succession of knocks was heard on Lucy Gray's door and Barb Azure poked her head in.

"Y/N, Lucy Gray, we've gotta–" she started, but stopped when she saw Lucy Gray still in bed. "For goodness sake, Lucy Gray, we're gonna be late! You've got–"

"I'll get her up and out of here, don't worry," I reassured Barb Azure with a nod and smile. "We'll meet you in the square."

Relieved, she nodded. "Okay, good. Good luck."

I smiled appreciatively before watching her leave, and then my smile faded and I focused on finishing getting ready. After pulling on my shoes and tying up my hair, I looked over at Lucy Gray who was still out like a light, unbothered by the noise or the daylight. She was lying on her side, duvet half covering her, and her curly hair sprawled across her pillow and in her eyes. I leaned down, moving the loose strand behind her ear, before taking in her appearance once more.

"I'm sorry," I whispered to her, not that it would have made a difference. "I love you, Lucy Gray, and I know you're gonna be angry and upset at first, but you'll get over it. You'll get over me. The Covey, they– they need you."

Swallowing hard and holding back my tears, sick of crying, I leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead before standing up and sucking up a deep breath. Pulling the duvet on her a little more, I forced myself to turn and leave, not wanting to linger any longer.

By the time I reached the square, everyone eligible for the reaping was already lined up in order of age. Just as I was about to join them, Barb Azure, who was nineteen and no longer to be considered, caught my gaze and sent me a questioning look.

'She's there', I mouthed, lying, and pointing to the lined up teens.

She didn't seem to understand, but it didn't matter because a Peacekeeper was already yelling orders at me, and then I was shoved into line and the mayor was telling everybody to quieten down. After his usual spiel about the importance of the Games, no doubt a script given to him from the Capitol, he began to dig his hand into a bag of slips with everyone's names on it. Yanking it out, he barely glanced at it before announcing what I feared.

"The District Twelve girl tribute is Lucy Gray Baird."

Murmurs flew around instantly, everyone looking around to find her, and I thanked my stars that she was safely asleep back home.

"Lucy Gray Baird," the mayor repeated, only intensifying the murmurs and leaving everyone confused. That was my chance.

Raising my hand, I said in the most confident voice I could muster, "I volunteer as tribute!"

Nobody knew what to do, but all eyes were on me, including the stupid cameras the Capitol brought with them, televising the whole thing. The mayor seemed surprised because it was absolute insanity that somebody would volunteer – why would you want to die?

The Peacekeepers took a moment to jump into action, eventually guiding me to the stage as they were supposed to. I passed Billy Taupe on the way, who was looking awfully guilty for someone who was once family to the Covey, and then I passed Mayfair, who was silently raging at the sight of her plans falling to pieces.

Once I stepped onstage and turned around, I caught sight of the Covey scattered in the crowd, between those that were potential tributes and those that were too old/young to take part. They seemed shocked, but I found Barb Azure's eyes and smiled a little, offering a reassuring nod. I hoped she would understand.

Lastly, my eyes found my father's, a struggle at first, considering he was tucked away at the back, forced to be present but not wanting to be. He seemed surprised at my volunteering and, for a split second, I thought he cared. But his actions remain still and I know it was probably just good riddance for him, nothing more.

I didn't expect anything less.

Only when I was on the train, being carted away to my death with the other twenty-three tributes, did I feel complete and utter relief for Lucy Gray. She was truly safe, free from the Games for another year at least, which was more than I could ask for. And maybe Mayfair would get over her vendetta by then, who knew?

Of course, now that the relief had settled in, it didn't take long for it to be replaced by concern because now I was in the Games. And I had no plan, no strategy, nothing.

After the Games...

I wasn't sure how I managed it, but I'd won. I'd really done the impossible, and barely a week later, I found myself on a train back to District Twelve with a little money and a broken arm, but otherwise alive.

Even though I'd expected to die, winning never really being an option, my survival instincts kept kicking in and I just kept getting lucky. And now here I was.

I could never forget what I'd witnessed during the Games, ever, and I wasn't sure if it was worth winning if it meant I would be haunted by all I'd experienced. But I couldn't argue with it because I was finally returning home and I didn't know what to think. It had only been a week, but I'd left a girl and was returning a murderer.

After the train pulled into the station, I was on my own and didn't even think about where my feet were taking me until I found myself walking through the Seam, back to my house. I was relieved to find my dad was at work, not in the mood to face him after all this time. I wasn't sure if anybody even knew I was alive, that I'd won, considering nobody here even had a working TV.

After all I'd endured in the Games, my father was the least of my worries. I refused to be pushed around by him anymore and knew I was going to leave as soon as I could. Even if it meant camping outside, living on the streets, I'd go. I'd figure something out, but for now, I was just lucky to be able to see my bedroom again.

As I sat on my lumpy bed and breathed a sigh of relief, I thought of the Covey, and then of Lucy Gray. Oh, how I'd missed her dearly. She was the only thought I'd had this past week, all of this being for her in the first place. I was just glad she hadn't had to endure everything I had. The guilt and shame of my actions to bring me where I was now was eating away at me, but I would have rather it been me than her.

I missed her, so so much. And I knew I couldn't wait any longer, so I immediately got up and headed straight for their house. It wasn't far from my own, though there's was much closer to the woods. When I approached, I saw Maude Ivory and Tam Amber sat outside, the former milking her goat and the latter planting some flowers. It was Maude Ivory who did a double take first, before she shouted my name and immediately ran up to me, startling me with an intense hug.

It had felt like forever since I'd had any human affection, and I couldn't help but return her hug with a relieved smile, missing her.

"I can't believe you're back!" she was saying, as the others soon began to join one by one, hugging me tightly.

"You really won!"

"We saw you on the TV one night, we were so scared."

"Thank you for volunteerin', you saved our Lucy Gray's life."

I could barely keep up with their compliments, unsure how to respond, but touched that they cared enough to be here.

And then I saw Lucy Gray, finally, as she walked out from the back door of the house, mouth agape when she noticed me. My eyebrows raised a little, hopeful, upon seeing her again. It hadn't been long, and yet it had felt like forever since I'd last seen her.

Barb Azure began to motion to the others to follow her back inside. "Let's give them some space, everyone."

They began to leave, doing just that, and without their presence, I suddenly felt exposed before Lucy Gray. I straightened up, trying to look a little more presentable, but acutely self conscious of my black eye, scarred lip and broken arm.

"Hey," I said, embarassed at how quiet it came out.

She stopped before me, watching me like I was a ghost. "You're really here."

I nodded slowly. "Yeah. I didn't think I would be, but somehow, I won."

But it wasn't somehow, was it? I knew what I did to win.

She suddenly frowned, looking betrayed. "You drugged me."

Realising she was upset, I said, "It was only a sleeping pill."

Her stare hardened. "You knew. You knew it was going to be my name."

I cowered away slightly, saying, "I overheard–"

"You lied to me," she cut me off, "drugged me, volunteered like a fool and–"

"It couldn't be you," I told her sternly. "You're needed here. They need you and I couldn't let you be chosen because of some silly feud, not when I found out. It had to be me. Nobody would miss me and–"

"I would!" she shouted, and I realised her eyes were full of tears as she glared at me. "You asshole, I would! I did! I needed you! You don't get to trick me and make that choice for me and just leave!"

I felt horribly guilty as she spoke, but deep down, I didn't regret my actions.

"Lucy Gray, you would've gotten over me," I said calmly, looking between her eyes. "You would've."

She narrowed her eyes with a glare. "Fuck you."

"Lucy–"

"No, fuck you!" she yelled, shoving me backwards. "You don't get to say that! Like you know how I feel about you!"

I pressed my lips together, feeling my heart ache as tears rolled down her cheeks.

"Fuck you," she murmured, before turning around and storming away, past the house and towards the meadow.

I frowned, watching her leave and feeling immense guilt pressing on my chest. I'd never seen her so upset, not in all the time I'd known her, and knowing I was the reason for it only made this whole thing worse.

Barb Azure left the house and approached me with an apologetic frown on her lips.

"I heard what happened," she said sympathetically. "Sorry."

I shook my head. "I didn't mean to upset her."

"We're all grateful for what you did," she said. "She is, too. A small part. But mostly, she's upset because she grieved you. Tried to, at least. She thought you were dead."

"I was supposed to be, if it helps," I mumbled. "I didn't think I'd be coming back here, facing her like this."

It was supposed to be a faceless goodbye. She wasn't supposed to see me again, nor I her. Now, I'd only made things worse.

"She missed you so much," Barb Azure told me knowingly. "She's angry and stubborn, but she missed you, Y/N. Go to her."

I looked up, seeing the encouraging smile on her lips, and figured if anyone knew Lucy Gray more than she did, it was her family. So, with that slight positivity in mind, I followed in the direction of Lucy Gray with hope to fix this. It didn't take long for me to find her in the meadow, sat by her favourite tree and hunched over, crying into her hands.

I tried to approach quietly, but she noticed and suddenly stood up, turning around to glare at me through her tears.

"What do you want? Go away!" she ordered.

I ignored her, taking a step forward, and she only yelled at me more.

"I said go away! I don't wanna speak to you right now!"

Again, I ignored her and continued to approach her.

"Leave me alone, you asshole! I said leave!"

I hugged her before she could protest even more, my good arm tightening around her shoulders desperately, and then she finally stopped shouting and hugged me back just as tightly. I squeezed my eyes shut, tears threatening to spill because I never thought I'd see her again, let alone hug her like my life depended on it.

"I'm sorry," I said into her shoulder. "I'm sorry a million times over, Lucy Gray. I never wanted to hurt you, but I don't regret what I did. I'd volunteer every single time."

She gripped my shirt in response, but didn't say anything. I swallowed hard before pulling away reluctantly, meeting her eyes with regret.

"I'm a fool, I know," I agreed with her words from before. "I'm sorry."

Her lip quivered as her eyes darted around my face, taking it in, fixating on the bruise and my scarred lip. She lifted her hand, touching my cheek tenderly, and my breath was caught in my throat at the attention.

"It weren't supposed to be you," she whispered with a broken voice.

"Nor you," I reminded her. "Mayfair cheated."

She shook her head, frowning and meeting my eyes. "You promised you wouldn't get involved, Y/N."

I exhaled through my nose, a sad smile on my lips. "I couldn't help it."

She didn't say anything, simply stared at me, and then she took a seat on the log next to the tree and I joined her, unsure what to do or say.

"I can't believe you're here," she admitted. "I thought I'd never see you again." Her eyes flickered between mine thoughtfully, before lowering to my broken arm in a sling. "How did it happen?"

I looked down at it, hesitating.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have asked," she said quickly, regretfully, but I shook my head.

"No, it's–" I paused, frowning shamefully. "It's how I won."

She grabbed my hand suddenly, making me look up at her.

"You don't have to tell me," she reassured with a nod.

I looked down at her hand on mine, nerves creeping in. "You wanna know, but... you won't look at me the same. And I don't want to lose you."

"Whatever you did in that arena isn't a reflection of who you are," she said with such a determination that I almost believed her. "It was life or death. And if it meant you're here now, alive, then I don't care."

I closed my eyes, nodding. "You're right. I– you're right."

She was patient, to my relief, and it took a moment for me to find my words.

"I'd spent most of the Games hiding," I began to tell her, comforted by the warmth of her hand in mine. "I avoided confrontation where I could, but one kid, he– he cornered me and had a knife. Managed to cut my lip... I disarmed him and ran with it. Used it to defend myself, injuring whoever got in my way, but never killing. I couldn't– I couldn't do that..."

...I was running, one of the others having found me in the tunnels and chasing me out into the open where they could no doubt kill me with ease. My lungs were screaming for air, burning with each step I took, but I kept pushing myself until I was in the stands. The other tribute followed me though, carrying a spear and swinging it my way.

I avoided each swing, knife in hand but myself unable to do anything with it, not without getting in close. And then they swung again, making me dodge, and slammed the blunt end of their spear into my back, pushing me over the edge of the stands and to the ground below with a loud crack. I would have a screamed at the unbearable pain from my arm, but I'd slammed my head onto the ground, leaving me dazed.

My vision was spinning and my arm was throbbing and I didn't know what was what, but then I heard someone's feet land behind me and I knew I had to play dead, my last chance at surviving. Through one open eye, I could see footsteps approaching, but also the glint of my knife which had dropped beside me during the fall. I stayed still, practically holding my breath as the other tribute leaned down to check if I was alive. And before they could try to turn me over, I grabbed the knife and stabbed the first thing I could touch.

Only when I heard the sounds of gurgling did I look to see what I'd done. My knife was lodged into their neck, their pleading eyes begging mine as I scrambled back out of fear, watching them die a slow and painful death without meaning to. I was certain I could never un-hear those noises, or un-see their death...

Tears wet my face when I finished telling Lucy Gray the story, and I was trembling slightly as the memories flashed in my head.

"I didn't want to," I told her, shaking my head guiltily. "I didn't. But it was the only way. The only way to be done. I– I'm not a murderer. I'm not. I'm–"

She pulled me in for a hug, rubbing soothing circles on my back. "It's okay. It's okay, Y/N."

I cried into her shoulder, but it didn't make me feel any better. I'd murdered someone, and now I'd live with the reminder forever.

"You did what you had to do," she tried to console me, but I knew it wasn't entirely true.

It wasn't over, not really. I'd see their faces everywhere, forever.

"I wish you didn't have to do that," she said after a moment, pulling away but holding my hand between hers. "And I haven't said it yet, but thank you for taking my place, even though I didn't want you to. You saved my life. I just wish it wasn't at the expense of your own."

She kissed my cheek before hugging me again, sighing contently.

"By the way, if you ever try to tell me how I feel, I'll kill you myself," she muttered into my shoulder. "I'm not losing you, ever."

I stayed quiet, wrapping my arm around her instead. I knew I'd do this all again if it meant she was safe. But she wouldn't understand.

By the time word spread about my 'triumph' in the Games and return to District Twelve, I'd already moved out of my dad's place. He barely uttered a word to me, neither did he try stopping me. I wasn't sure if it was because he knew what I was capable of, or if he'd just been waiting for me to leave, but it was easier than I'd imagined.

My only choices were being homeless, moving into the community home full of kids with no parents or staying with the Covey. Naturally, it was easy to choose the latter, especially when Lucy Gray insisted I stayed with them.

It was easy at first, easier than I expected, to make myself at home and try to continue my life as it once was before the Games. I went back to work as soon as possible, even with one arm broken, did as many shifts as I could before the summer ended and I'd be back at school with less time to make money and afford food. I accompanied the Covey to the Hob, helping them prepare for their sets and encouraging people to donate money for their performances. It was almost normal.

But at night, that was when I couldn't seem to escape the true reality of what I'd been through. I'd fall asleep, no problem, and then my nightmares would feature different versions of the Games, bloody kills of the other tributes, the knot of fear in my chest expanding until I woke up in cold sweats and with wet eyes.

I couldn't tell anybody, especially not the Covey or Lucy Gray. I couldn't be a burden to them, not after all they'd done for me, but it was getting unbearable. The faces, they wouldn't stop haunting me. And the scar on my lip that wasn't fading only seemed to serve as a permanent reminder, frightening me because maybe I would never escape it. Maybe I'd suffer forever, a consequence of winning.

It happened again, tonight, and I woke with a start, eyes shooting open and mistaking the shadow on the ceiling for a predator in the dark. It took me a moment to remember where I was, what was real. Lucy Gray's bedroom. I was in the bed they'd set up for me, opposite hers, and the curtains were drawn, casting a ghastly blue glow around the room.

Wiping my eyes, I moved my legs over the side of the bed and glanced over at Lucy Gray, who was sound asleep. I was careful not to wake her as I slipped into some shoes and left the room, practicing the same caution as I left the house completely and sat outside on the garden furniture. The fresh air did much better to wake me up, reminding me where I was, and I simply sat there under the dark sky, trying to collect myself.

It was always the same. Some nights were worse than others, like tonight, where I'd be forced to step outside for some fresh. Other nights I could just brush it off and force myself to sleep. Would it ever get better?

I wasn't sure how long passed, but I heard the back door of the house opening and turned around, ready to apologise to whoever I'd woken. To my surprise, it was Lucy Gray.

"I didn't mean to wake you up," I said quickly, straightening up. "I can go back in. I–"

"Stop," she said softly, before taking a seat on the chair next to me, eyes never leaving mine.

I swallowed thickly, unable to hold her stare.

"I've tried to give you space," she said, the fatigue laced in her voice. "Since you've been here. I've seen you leave in the middle of the night... I'm worried, Y/N. Talk to me. Please."

Embarrassed I'd been caught out, I tried to reassure her. "I'm fine. It's nothing."

She scoffed quietly. "Are we not close enough that you shouldn't lie to me?"

I glanced at her, sighing when I saw the worry looking back at me.

"It's the Games, isn't it?" she asked carefully. "You're dreamin' of them."

I didn't trust my voice, so I could only nod weakly. She tensed her jaw slightly before moving her chair closer to me and pulling me in for a side hug. Leaning her head on my shoulder, she squeezed comfortingly, and I melted under her touch.

"Wake me when it happens," she encouraged. "It's not nice bein' alone when you've just had a nightmare."

"I'm not doing that," I started, a million reasons on the tip of my tongue for why I wouldn't subject her to that, but she cut me off pleadingly.

"Please. It'll make me feel better, knowin' I can at least be with you. Knowin' you're not alone. That I can help."

I didn't reply, unsure I could agree when I knew I just couldn't do it.

"I'm gonna push the beds together if you don't," she added, lightheartedly but with a touch of concern still present.

Nonetheless, it brought a smile to my lips and I exhaled sharply through my nose, a sad attempt at a laugh. "Okay."

She squeezed my shoulder in response and then straightened up, offering me a tired smile. "Come on."

"What?"

"You're not goin' back to sleep, clearly, so let's go," she insisted, grabbing my hand and pulling me up.

"Go where?" I asked, though let her lead me out of the garden.

"The lake, duh."

I didn't fight it and let her tug me along, walking down to the lake. It was quiet out, especially between us, and the mindless task of walking through the woods with her hand in mine gave me something else to focus on other than my nightmares.

When we reached the lake, we took a seat at the edge of the dock again, just like last time.

"No midnight swims, please," I warned her playfully, and she laughed quietly.

"I promise," she muttered, before looking out at the water.

My eyes took in her profile for a moment, following the slope of her nose, the point of her cupid's bow, the curve of her lips... even in the dark, with only a minuscule of moonlight casting shadows across her face, she was stunning. I wondered if she knew the effect she could have on me just by being here.

"Thank you," I said, unable to keep my gratitude in for much longer. "For everything."

She rolled her eyes playfully, continuing to look ahead. "Oh, shut up."

I furrowed my brows. "Huh?"

She gave me a disapproving glance. "After all that's happened, you don't need to thank me."

"I do," I said simply, and she rolled her eyes again.

"Seriously, shut up before I make you."

Knowing I wouldn't win this one, I exhaled softly and looked away, eyes subconsciously tracing the shimmers of light in the still water.

"Why did you do it?" Lucy Gray suddenly asked, playfulness gone.

"What?"

She paused. I wasn't sure she'd continue, and then she said, "Volunteer." I opened my mouth to answer, but she cut me off, adding, "And don't say it's because nobody would miss you. You knew that I would have. So, why?"

I pressed my lips together firmly, suddenly feeling warm. It was such an easy question, with an even easier answer. But I couldn't bring myself to say it for the same reason I'd never told her. I was a coward. But didn't she deserve to know the truth? Didn't I deserve to finally come clean? To lift this weight from my shoulders?

My heart was thumping ever so loudly for the girl next to me. I'd faced life or death situations, surely I could do this.

"Y/N?" she prompted, glancing at me.

I licked my lips, gaze focused on the darkness ahead. "I'm in love with you."

The silence was deafening, unlike before when it was welcomed. Not even a gasp or a slight movement from beside me betrayed her reaction, her surprise. I was too paralysed with fear of rejection to look at her. Instead, I stayed put, certain I'd be stuck there in that moment forever, never hearing a response. But then finally:

"I thought that was it. I just had to hear you say it."

My jaw tensed as I digested her words, eyes still fixated on the water. She knew? This whole time, she knew?

"I love you too," she murmured, and in my peripheral, I could see her staring ahead also. "That's why I hated that you did it."

Unable to act cowardly any longer, I forced myself to look to her. She did the same, knocking the breath from me when her dark eyes met mine. It was horribly intimidating, even though she was doing nothing different. Except now she knew. She finally knew. And I knew that she knew. And that was different enough to terrify me.

"Never again," she muttered. "You have to promise me and actually keep it."

And just like that, I was reminded why I'd volunteered in the first place. Coward or not, it was only ever for her.

"I can't," I admitted.

She scrunched her face with hurt. "And why not?"

I grimaced. "I just told you why."

A frown appeared on her lips, jaw clenching in annoyance. Her eyes flickered between mine defiantly, and I knew I was upsetting her again.

"I'm sorry," I said, tilting my head.

"I hate you," she said lowly.

I shook my head, holding her intense gaze. "Not according to what you just said."

Her lips curled inwards, frustrated, and after one last glance, she leaned forward and kissed me hard. My eyes fluttered close as she caressed my cheek, holding me close. I slipped my uninjured arm around her waist, revelling in her warmth and the softness of her lips. It was the best kiss I'd ever had. The only kiss, yes, but one I'd never want to compete with.

When we pulled apart, her hand was still on my cheek, and mine still on her waist, and I worried that if I opened my eyes, something would go wrong. That this would all be a dream.

"You should've told me sooner," she murmured, lips ghosting mine.

I reluctantly opened my eyes, instantly submerged in hers. "Not everyone can speak their mind as confidently as you can, Lucy Gray."

She licked her lips, drawing my gaze to them yet again. "I can't always. Clearly."

I looked down, shaking my head slightly. "I couldn't."

Her thumb stroked my cheek tenderly. "Not even after? When you came home?"

It was hilarious, how easy she made it all sound. I raised an eyebrow at her, trying not to smile. "You don't know how you make me feel, do you?" Her expression softened, and I continued, "Imagine standing on the edge of a cliff. Then jumping off."

"Scared?" she asked, growing worried, but I shook my head.

"Free," I corrected, growing warm at my honesty, it coming way too easily for once. "And that in itself is scary, isn't it? But scary in a good way. I– I've never felt like that before."

She exhaled softly, a small smile tugging at her lips. "You're not so bad at speaking your mind, it seems."

I breathed out through my nose, mirroring her smile. Her thumb outlined my lips lightly, tracing my scar, and then resting on my cheek again. She was thoughtful, eyes staring at my face, but distant.

"That feeling you described," she started, voice smooth and comforting, "it goes both ways."

I wondered how it could. I'd never imagined myself giving her a similar comfort, nor her feeling so strongly about me as I did with her. But then she kissed me again, and I didn't need to think about it anymore.

[trafficblrpolyamshipbracket]

Welcome to TPSB!

Hello everyone! I have not seen a ship bracket dedicated to polyam ships, especially for ships in the Traffic Life Series / Empires / Hermitcraft sphere (and occasionally other adjacent smps) so I am creating one. Obviously, this is characters not creators and this is for fun/entertainment, so please keep this lighthearted! Now, may the most beloved polyam ship win!

Current Blog Activity: TPSB V3 Finales has ended! Vote and create propaganda to help your polyam ship of choice win the TPSB V3 Finale!

The V1, V2, and V3 Brackets are concluded, but I will still reblog old ship propaganda and etc. Feel free to make celebratory art of the winner and tag me! I will reblog with the TPSB propaganda tag! I don't mind promoting people for the creations they've worked on :p

TAGS

#tpsb polls

#tpsb info

#tpsb propaganda

#tpsb update

#tpsb other

INFO

Polls are set to one week and I'll post the next wave of polls soon after it ends.

If you tag this account with propaganda, I will reblog it. If it is nsfw propaganda, I will tag it with the #NSFW tag for minors/people who don't want to see it to filter out if they so choose. If it is not quite NSFW, but rather suggestive, I’ll take it #cw suggestive. Haven't run into this yet, but this is in place just in case.

Feel free to put propaganda in the ask box once the shipping starts and I will clear the queue as often as I can! I will also reblog literally anything people comment that aren't hidden in tags or whatever else, so keep that in mind.

No ship bashing/shaming please! I would like everyone to vote for a ship and not against a ship, for it's more fun that way. Not every ship is everyone’s cup of tea, but that just means you stay away from ships you don’t like. As long as it’s safe and legal, ship and let ship :D

I accept ship nominations as first come first serve, no matter how rare or bizarre it may seem to you. If you want to make sure your favorite polyam ship hits the bracket, throw it in the ask box :D

If there is a ship name attached to it, it is usually because the person who nominated the ship used that ship name. Not all ships have ship names that I know of/that I was given so they may be “wrong” or whatever else. Feel free to leave a reply or throw it in my ask box for me to add a ship name if one has it.

Once we get to the end, if all runs well and people enjoy this, there is a chance to run another bracket with a new set of submissions. New ships can be added and old ships who lost can make a comeback.

The bracket is created at random. There is only intervention in round one if the ships pitted against each other are the same plus/minus a person or if the ships feel too unevenly weighted. If so, I dragged one ship and threw it up or down and left it where it landed if that was better than before. I am human, though, and will miss stuff/make mistakes, so don't be upset if something isn't quite how you want it. This will place popular ships against each other, but I can always run another bracket after this one to give your favorite polyam ship another chance against other ships :D

Winning ships do not get run again. They claim their spot in the Winners list and then get to rest to allow other ships to have a chance to shine :D

This account is run by @deityoftherain who uses they/fae/star pronouns. As one may expect, be as wonky and fun with your headcanons and such when doing propaganda :D

CURRENT BRACKET

WINNERS

V1: Mumbo/Scar/Grian aka Mumscarian

V2: Scott/Jimmy/Tango aka Flower Ranchers

V3: Impulse/Tango/Skizz aka Poly Arizona Dads