#And for comparison when i read other books i will have to hold my hand over a page if some bodily fluids are mentioned or read it as fast a

[surpriserose]

Honestly you would think the jungle would be really bad for my contamination ocd but its not actually

[dollfacefantasy]

kinktober day 20 - size kink jason todd x fem!reader cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, size kink, tummy bulge

"That's it, baby. Take it all. Oh, look at you go. Being so brave for me."

On the surface the words are soothing, but the tone of Jason's voice fills each syllable with condescension. Not in a bad way. The sickly sweet lilt strikes the perfect chord that has you wetter than any body of water on this earth.

Your hips rise and fall in measure rolls, your cunt embracing his thick cock with every motion. You have to take it slow. Otherwise, you feel like you'll tear yourself in half.

"Jay…" you whimper, lip wobbling and eyes gleaming with the need for him to coddle you, "You're so…"

A sharp whine from your throat cuts off your own words. Your head tilts back and then hangs forward. His tip brushes your sweet spot every time you sink down on him. It makes it nearly impossible to remain coherent. You'd never met somebody who could make you malfunction like this.

"I'm so what?" he coos, prompting you to finish your statement. He already knew the words on the tip of your tongue, but he still wanted to hear them spoken into the drafty air of your apartment.

"You're so big," you choke out.

Another moan falls from your lips before you grit your teeth. Your face scrunches up in tandem with your walls clenching around his length. Vaguely, you hear him chuckle. He then pulls you close and cradles you against his chest.

"And you like that, don't you?" he whispers.

He slumps further down on the couch. His feet press hard against the smooth wooden floor beneath the two of you. The muscles in his thighs flex as he begins to pump his hips up and down. You whine and clutch at his meaty bicep, melting against his warm skin and letting him do all the work right now.

You nearly forget he asked a question at all until he continues speaking.

"I know you do, doll. You like that when you're with me, you're helpless. Don't have to think. Don't have to move. Don't have to do anything but let me use this sweet, little pussy till I'm satisfied," he says.

Your toes curl, your thighs clamping around his own. The pressure doesn't stop him from moving though, not in the slightest. You inhale sharply before nodding against his neck. Of course, you like this. You love it.

You could never get enough of Jason's body. You'd study it forever if he let you. Your pupils felt magnetized whenever they had the chance to drift along his chiseled torso or mentally map the pathways of his scars. Adoration wasn't a strong enough word for how you felt in regards to his figure. Obsession seemed more appropriate.

Fortunately for you, Jason behaved much the same about your body.

In the mornings when he thought sleep still had a strong hold on you, he'd run his fingers over every curve he could find. He'd knead the swell of your ass and press tender kisses between your shoulder blades. As you'd start to wake, he'd wrap his hands around your waist and nearly pop a boner right then and there from how large they looked in comparison.

His favorite thing in the world after a long grueling patrol fast became coming home to you. Not even thirty minutes with your delicate body washed away all the stress caused by hard and rough people he dealt with beyond these walls. Some nights he'd prop your dainty legs over his broad shoulders and dive into your slippery cunt. Other nights he'd get right down to it, shoving his fat cock inside you and watching your belly bulge with the intrusion.

Tonight hadn't been either of those. He'd been home for a change. But having you curled up to his side and pressed against him while he read a book got him worked up pretty fast. It wasn't his fault the two of you just seemed to fit so naturally together.

"My good girl. Soft and sweet all for me," he praises as he continues fucking up into you. His heavy balls lightly slap against your ass with each thrust.

Your nails dig into his shoulder as the repetitive strokes start to build on one another. Small, whimpered expletives drip from your lips like a leaky faucet. He knows you're getting there. All he has to do is ramp up his efforts a little.

His hands lock around your waist like they do on hazy mornings. Just like then, he's obsessed with the way your skin dimples beneath his digits now. He boosts you back and starts bouncing you up and down in addition to his thrusts.

Your eyes roll back at the sensation and you take your bottom lip between your teeth. You don't have to do anything in this position still. He's strong enough to hold you upright all by himself. The only thing you had to do was like he said - stay still and let yourself be used.

"Can never get enough of you, baby, fuck," he grunts. His head falls back against the sagging cushion as he keeps working himself into you over and over. He glances back up at you slightly. "Is it feeling good?"

"Mhm," you whine, "So fuckin' good. So deep. All the way inside."

Your head bobbles around with the way he jerks you up and down on his lap. He smirks at your words and the airy way you say them.

"I know. I can see it," he responds, eyes flitting down to that faint and familiar bump. Evidence of his place inside you.

You only whimper in response. He drops you back down against his chest so one of his hands can slot against your center and rub your clit in fast, tight circles. The flickering feeling draws even more noises of pleasure from you.

The edge sneaks up on the both of you fast. You fall over it first. Your body spasms and seizes between his hands, but his strong grip is enough to keep you in place. For him, it explodes in a muted burst of ecstasy before burning into a brighter one. He wraps his arms around your smaller frame and keeps you flush against his sweaty skin as he fucks his load deep inside.

The both of you stay there while you come down. His chest puffs up and down with deep breaths. Even with all his exertion, his hand rubs soothing stripes along the column of your spine. You lie against him completely motionless, limp against the muscles of his chest. A little pleasure doll all for him to play with.

[butyoudidthis4what]

No Man's Land

Jack Abbot x f!Reader

5.1k || All my content is 18+ MDNI || C.W.: mentions of blood, mentions of guns and shootings, mentions of death/dying/coding, CPR, anxiety about partner's safety, Jack's traumatized, reader's traumatized, mentions of dissociation and compartmentalization, poor description of medical events, potentially incorrect medical descriptions/knowledge, very very light smut, angst, age gap kind of implied with Jack but not explicitly referenced, no use of y/n or related, not proofread, no beta, I think that's all but if I missed any please (nicely) let me know.

Summary: This is my Pitt-Fest-But-Not fic. Development of your relationship through vignettes of the past and conversations between Jack, Dana and Robby. There's a shooting where you work. Jack is at the ED when the dispatch comes in and is terrified when he can't get in touch with you.

A.N.: If my Robby reads like John Carter I'm sorry, except that a little bit I'm not. I feel like I'm struggling with my Jack characterization but can't tell if that's just me hating everything I do. This is my take on one of my fave tropes where reader is in mortal danger. I needed a physical location that could be associated with reader and settled on a courthouse, but what it is reader does there is not described. Probably (definitely?) needs a part two. If you get the nickname, thank you, I feel seen. If you don't I explain it at the end. This is absolutely something I would call him, in part to fuck with people who know his real name. I would love to know if you enjoyed and to hear any thoughts you'd like to share.

“He has a girlfriend,” Robby smirks at Dana. 

She blinks at him. “I’m sorry, I thought we were talking about Jack Abbot.”

“Oh we fucking are.” Robby stifles his smirk and forces his lips to remain closed and as neutral as possible. 

“You’re shitting me.” Dana’s incredulous look breaks Robby a bit and he starts to laugh, tries to turn it into a cough when both he and Dana look up to find Jack staring at them as he takes his snow dusted beanie off. He gives Robby a ‘really?’ look even though he knew Robby would rat him out to Dana the second Robby had dragged it out of him. 

Dana looks back at Robby. “Who? How did they meet?”

Robby holds up his hands. “You now officially know as much as I do about her.” Dana makes a noise of vague discontent but knows Jack well enough to know Robby is telling the truth. That’s all that’s been revealed. 

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

“It’s not worth it,” you whisper. Jack blinks and looks around, unsure if you’re talking to him. He has no idea who you are, has never seen you before in his life but it appears that you are in fact whispering to him in the middle of this bookstore. 

He raises his eyebrows. “It’s not?”

You shake your head, give him an almost conspiratorial smile. “No, he must have gotten a new ghost writer. It’s really bad in comparison to his other stuff. Save your time and money. I’ll give you a summary right now for free if you’re that curious.”

Jack smiles to himself a little bit as he sets the book back on the shelf. There’s something about you, your smile, the way you just randomly spoke to him. He’s drawn to you. An alarm goes off in some part of his brain telling him to ignore it, ignore you, he could get hurt. He pretends to weigh his options as he turns to face you fully. “How about for a cup of coffee?”

Your brows furrow in confusion for a moment. There’s simply no way this unfairly attractive man is asking to buy you a cup of coffee. “The summary?” You clarify. “That I’d give for free. You want it to cost a cup of coffee instead?” You let out a nervous laugh and some part of his heart aches because you’re so adorable. “I just want to make sure I understand before I potentially make an even bigger fool of myself.” 

“Yep.” He can’t help but laugh a little. “You give me the summary over coffee. Actually, you know what? You’re going to have to give me a recommendation too because now I’m going to have nothing to read.” He clicks his tongue at you. 

“Well,” you laugh out, all breathy as you try to pull yourself together. “You drive a hard bargain but I think I’m willing to accept those terms…” you glance at his name badge, “Dr. Abbot.” You give him a full smile and Jack knows then and there he’s totally fucked in the best of ways. 

“Jack.” He smiles at you as you both begin walking towards the café. “Call me Jack.”

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

Everything quiet enough after handoff, Robby walks out with Jack into the morning sun that does little to warm the breeze pulling leaves off the trees. “Any chance you can cover a shift on Thursday night?” Robby is asking, yes, but he knows it’s not really a question, Jack is always willing to work.

“Can’t.” Jack says simply, shrugging his shoulders. “Sorry.” There’s an expectant silence that hangs between the two as they keep walking.

“Care to elaborate?” Robby finally asks.

“No.” Jack turns and smirks at him. “It’s none of your and Dana’s business.”

“Ha!” Robby laughs. “So it’s her, it’s about her! The ever elusive girlfriend. Will we ever get to meet her? Or does she not want to meet us? Is she real?” Jack stops walking and gives Robby one of his looks. “Holy shit, is it someone here?”

Jack snorts at that. “No it’s not someone here. She’s not even in the medical field.” He sighs, half longing and half resignation of some kind. “She’s honestly dying to meet you guys, especially you and Dana, but I’m trying to protect her from this hellhole. It’s hard with schedules too, to find a time.”

“That’s such fucking bullshit,” Robby laughs. “Are you afraid to truly commit? Think bringing her here will make it too real?” 

It’s a valid question but one that Jack nevertheless resents. “No, actually, if you must fucking know Thursday is our one year anniversary. We have plans. So you’ll have to find someone else to cover. But I’ll bring her around soon,” he laughs through his nose to himself at your stubbornness, “if I don’t she’s liable to just show up one of-”

“A year?” Robby laughs, incredulous. “A fucking year? How the hell did you hide it for three months before I dragged it out of you?”

Jack ignores him. “Also, I’m moving to days. It’s better for us.” He’s so nonchalant about it, just states it like he’s saying the sky is blue, like it’s not going to make Robby’s eyes widen and mouth drop open like it does.

“I don’t,” Robby huffs a laugh, “I don’t even know where to fucking begin.”

“Then don’t.” Jack smirks, starts to walk again while Robby stays frozen, running a hand through his hair. “Go do some actual work.”

“I thought you found comfort in the darkness?” Robby yells after him. 

Jack slows and turns around but keeps walking backwards, one hand holding the strap of his backpack to keep it over his shoulder. He glances down at his phone and the photo of you that is now his wallpaper. He smiles to himself a little, yells back. “Guess I find it somewhere else now.”

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

You giggle, honest to god giggle and Jack could lose his damn mind as he nibbles at your collarbone. “You know if my anatomy class had been this fun, I might have become a doctor too.” 

You’re laying on your back in bed as Jack kisses your sweat slicked skin all over as you both come down from your last round. He’s taken to 'teaching you anatomy' like this, identifying different parts of the human body with his mouth.

“Hmm,” Jack hums against you. “I’m glad it wasn’t then. Fuck doctors.” He starts to kiss down your chest. 

“That has become quite the favorite pastime of mine, yes,” you smirk. “Fucking one specific doctor, actually.” 

“Getting fucked by one specific doctor more like it,” he murmurs into your sternum. He kisses laterally, lips hitting your breast and moving towards your nipple. 

“I think we’ve established what those are,” you moan softly as he takes your nipple into his mouth. You let your hands run through his salt and pepper curls that you adore so much. 

“Can never be too thorough.” You giggle at him again and can feel him smile against you. “But fine, you want something new?” You nod, let your nails scratch gently at his scalp. 

“Nipple,” he kisses your nipple and then down your torso to right above your belly button, “to navel is no man’s land.” He continues to lavish kisses on the soft skin of your stomach before looking up at you when you don’t respond. 

“I can’t tell if you’re fucking with me or not.” You eye him with mock suspicion. 

He laughs and it’s your favorite sound in the whole world, you swear. Well maybe second, only behind hearing him tell you that he loves you. 

“I’m not. Nipple to navel is no man’s land. It’s a real thing. It’s one of the worst places to get shot or stabbed because there’s so many organs that could be hit and the place we’d expect to get hit would depend on whether the person was breathing in or out at the time, whether their lungs were inflated or deflated. And we generally have no way of knowing. It can be difficult to get clear imaging.” He starts kissing lower, down below your belly button, rubbing his stubble along your skin to tease you as he gets lower and lower. “It’s never a good time. Lots of poor outcomes.”

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

It’s supposed to be his day off and yet Jack finds himself staring at the board and running a hand over his face. “It’s still so fucking weird seeing you here during the day and it not meaning something catastrophic has happened.” 

Jack turns to look at Dana. “I’ve been working days for a month now and it’s my day off.”

“You can go, we’re fine for now,” Robby nods at Jack. “Thanks for the brief assistance brother.”

“No, no,” Dana interjects, “he’s not allowed to leave until we nail down a time to meet his girl.” 

Robby raises his eyebrows and starts to tilt his head and open his mouth to agree with Dana. A dispatch comes through before anyone can say anything else and Dana grabs it, pinning Jack down with her eyes, daring him to leave before discussing meeting you. 

“Saved by the bell,” Jack huffs, taking his stethoscope off and starting to walk away. 

“Shooting at a courthouse,” Dana relays to Robby, “not a mass cas, just a few people, two a little iffy, one they’re already doing CPR on, a few caught in the race to get out. Two dead on the scene.”

It takes a few seconds for Dana’s words to truly register with Jack, but when they do his hearing fades to only a sharp ringing in his ear. This wasn’t happening. He’d been so reticent at the beginning of your relationship, waited so long to give in and define it and hand his heart over to you, terrified he’d lose you because of himself and who he was, his imperfections, his past, his trauma, his PTSD, his baggage, as he thought of it. He feels so stupid now, in the moment, not having worried about how he could lose you from a random act of violence, that in the moments he can’t be there to protect you somebody could come in and rip you from him. Just like that. With the pull of a trigger. 

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

“You know, I can confidently say this is the most unique date I’ve ever been on,” you tease Jack. 

“Hey,” he pants, “me teaching you CPR is a great date.” 

“It would be better if you took your shirt off,” you whisper and wink at him before letting your eyes linger on his arm. 

“If I did that you’d be so distracted you’d learn nothing,” he smirks at you, sweat glistening on his skin just a little. Just enough to drive you nearly feral for him. 

 “I think I’ve got the compressions part down, but I may need more help learning the mouth to mouth part.”

He rolls his eyes at you. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You fucking love it,” you shoot back at him, leaning into his space and bumping him with your shoulder. 

He can’t help but kiss you. “Yes,” the word is muffled against your lips, “yes I do.” He gives you a firmer kiss this time before he pulls away. “But really. You should know how to do it, just in case. It will help you feel in control in the moment if the need for it ever arises. You’ll know what to do.”

You bite your lip and smile at him. 

“What?” He eyes you with suspicion. 

You shrug. “Nothing, I just love you so much. Sometimes it overwhelms me, how much I love you.”

He can see it in your eyes, how much you love him, can almost feel it physically squeezing him like a tight hug. He’s really not sure what he ever did to deserve you or your love. “I love you too, Doll.”

“I love you more, Peter.” Your face pulls up into that usual self-satisfied and silly grin you get sometimes when you call him that nickname. It’s a recent thing. You’re calling him it more and more though, it’s becoming a natural way of referring to him. From anyone else he would hate it, hearing it between another couple would make him roll his eyes. But from you? He loves it more than you’ll ever truly know. 

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

Jack spins around.

“Jack you can still go, we’ve got it covered.” Robby looks at Jack for a minute and then meets Dana’s eyes as she looks to him after taking her own look at Jack. 

“What courthouse?” Jack asks. It’s quiet, controlled and clipped and almost missable in the chaos of the ED. He’s not looking at either of them, staring past them at a wall with a chest heaving more and more by the second as his face grows paler. 

He tries to keep it together. Dana will say the name and it won’t be your courthouse and he’ll go straight to your actual courthouse, grab you, take you home and never let you leave. A perfectly reasonable reaction, he thinks.

“Jack-”

“What fucking courthouse?” It’s louder this time, almost enough to pause the chaos of the ED. 

Jack’s voice drips with what sounds like rage to most of those who hear him but is unmistakably fear to Dana and Robby. 

Neither of them have ever seen Jack like this, this scared, struggling this hard to keep it together, truly raising his voice for anything other than to quiet down an unruly patient. His eyes find Dana’s and they’re glassier than she’s ever seen them, the intensity of his gaze making it painfully clear he’s hanging on every word and the wrong ones will shatter him. 

She swallows and opens her mouth and Jack knows what she’s about to say before she even says it. And she does. The name of your courthouse. 

“I’ll triage.” He says it before Dana has even finished, the words hollow and breathless and commanding all at once. He spins and starts off to the bay doors with nothing more. He obviously knows from the report Dana gave that they won’t need triage. He just needed to get out of there and try to create an excuse to stay in the ambulance bay. He knows Robby won’t let him, that Robby and Dana already know you’re at that courthouse, could be a victim. 

Robby and Dana share another look, So you work at a courthouse. This courthouse. “Fuck,” Dana mutters, “I really hope we don’t end up meeting her today.”

Jack’s hand dives in his pocket as he strides to the ambulance bay. He already knows in his heart that there’s not going to be a text from you saying that you’re okay. He hasn’t felt his phone buzz. He never even kept his phone on him until you. 

Even though he knew he wouldn’t have any messages, waking his phone and seeing none hits him like a freight train all the same, right in the chest. It threatens to bring him to his knees, make him sick, but he can’t. He sets it all aside. If you do come out of one of the ambulances he can hear in the distance you’re going to need him at his best. But what if you’re one of the two people dead at the scene? He has to shove that out of his mind too, can’t give into the complete panic that threatens to consume him. 

Disassociate. Compartmentalize. Do the job. ABC. Assess. Stabilize. Repeat.

His fingers fly across his phone automatically, calling you having become so routine. He prefers it so much to texting, hearing your voice, communicating more directly. “Call me,” he starts, “the second you get this message. Or fucking text me,” his voice breaks, “please. Fucking please.” He hangs up and calls again, knowing he’ll get your voicemail again but trying anyway because it’s all he can do. 

He’s helpless, powerless, he can’t do anything to try and save you and that threatens to swallow him whole. 

Your voicemail recording telling people to leave a message plays again and all Jack can wonder is if this is all he’ll have left of your voice in his life. Your voice on your mailbox, maybe some voicemails you’ve left him, videos, voice memos you’ve sent. All distorted by recording, not your real voice. He can’t remember what your real voice sounds like all of the sudden. What your laugh sounds like, how you sound when you’re sleepy or in the throes of pleasure or telling him you love him. God, did he even tell you he loved you the last time he saw you, when he said goodbye? 

“I need you to call me,” he says into the phone again, pauses. “I love you.” He takes a ragged breath in and speaks through his teeth. “I love you so fucking much, so you have to be okay and you have to fucking call me.”

He sends a series of texts asking you to call him or text him or call the hospital or do anything to let him know you’re okay, asking if you are okay, asking where you are as though you’re going to respond. He already knows you’re in the back of one of those ambulances because of fucking course you are, because he’s not allowed to have anything good in his life apparently. How could he be so stupid to think differently?  

“Hey, we don’t need triage for this. The numbers are controlled.” Robby walks out to stand next to Jack in the ambulance bay. “If you want to stay you can, but you can’t wait out here to see who shows up, you have to-”

“Yeah, yeah, jump on the first patient that pulls up, I know, I got it,” he interrupts Robby. 

There’s a silence as Robby passes him a gown and ties for him before he does the same for Robby. 

“Jack, if she’s in one you cannot-”

“Like fuck I can’t.” It’s just a statement. Cool and collected and a projection of indifference. It scares Robby more than if Jack had yelled. 

“No, actually brother, you can’t. I’m telling you right now. You’re not working on her. We don’t work on family, on significant others, and you would tell me the exact same thing. It’s too risky, you’ll be too clouded.” Robby watches Jack’s jaw clench and roll as he stares out at the street. 

He wants to argue that of course he’ll be clear, he’ll be focusing on saving you, he’ll have never been so clear in his life. But part of him knows that seeing you like that on his trauma table, your blood all over the table and him and his hands might make him freeze.

“Fine.” Jack whispers. “But if she’s,” Jack has to pause and take a shuddery breath. “If she’s gone or really going and it’s inevitable you have to let me in. You have to let me try to save her. You have to let me code her, Michael.”

He can taste the rising bile in his throat just at having to talk about coding you.

The first ambulance pulls up before Robby can respond and Jack’s on it so fast Robby’s surprised Jack doesn’t get smacked in the face by the door opening. 

It’s not you. It’s someone who is very much not you and is clearly one of the iffy ones. 

Disassociate. Compartmentalize. Do the job. ABC. Assess. Stabilize. Repeat.

Jack forces himself to go emotionally numb as he listens to the paramedic rattle off vitals and history, trying so very hard to focus on this, something he can do, even if it’s not for you. By the time they hit trauma one Jack’s fine and in full swing, running it like he would any other trauma. Nobody on the team in the room with him suspects anything is amiss.  

He hates the way he can’t see the other’s who come in, that he has to stay with this patient until they’re stable and can’t go looking for you. He chastises himself for not having brought you here before or at least having you meet Dana and Robby. They don’t even know what you look like, couldn’t identify you.

“Jack!” He glances at Dana who stands at the door as he preps for the chest tube. “What’s her name?”

He yells your name at her, impassive and stoic as he reaches for the scalpel, ignoring the looks everyone throws each other at the slightest tremor in his voice.

“I’ll look for her.” Dana promises. He doesn’t respond. He can’t. He’ll fall apart. 

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

The restaurant you’re at has to be the fanciest place you’ve ever been to. It’s the hottest place in the city and you have no idea how Jack snagged reservations here for dinner to finish out celebrating your one year anniversary. 

The lighting and low hum of other patrons talking to each other and glasses and silverware and plates tinkling is cinematic. You feel like the main character. But then that’s always how Jack makes you feel. 

“I got you something.” He pulls out a wrapped rectangular object. 

You click your tongue and tsk at him. “We said we’d do them at home! I didn’t bring yours!”

“I know. I have something for you at home too.” His eyes sparkle in the flickering candle light, a little smirk pulling up. “I didn’t mean for it to be a double entendre, but both are true.” You snort a laugh at him and take the gift from him. “Open it.” He’s still smiling, eyes still sparkling,  but there’s something there. He’s nervous. It makes you even more curious. 

You carefully unwrap the object until it reveals itself as a hardcover book. That same one Jack had in his hand a year ago and that you told him was bad and gave him a summary of over coffee. 

“Oh, Jack,” you say softly, eyes getting a little watery. It’s so perfect. So sweet and sentimental. The book that brought you together, that gave you each other. It’s almost like a physical representation of the foundation of your relationship in a way. 

“You have to open it,” he instructs you in a whisper.

You raise an eyebrow but do as he says. 

‘Move in with me?’ is written on the blank first page. 

You look between the page and Jack. “Is this?” You look back at the page and then up at him again. “Are you really asking…?”

He nods. “Move in with me. Or move somewhere with me, we can get our own place, it doesn’t have to be my apartment. We basically live together anyway at this point. Let’s just make it official, yeah? Wherever you want, you can decorate however you want. Just as long as it’s our place.”

You bring a hand to your mouth for a second before using your napkin to dab at the inner corners of your eyes to stop the tears from falling and look back at him. 

“You’re a romantic, Jack Abbot,” you hum all dreamily. 

“You better not tell anyone. Can’t have you ruining my street cred.” He smirks, but his expression and the way he fidgets show he’s still anxious. “So?”

You realize then you never actually answered him. Sniffling a little laugh and letting a few tears fall you give him his answer, voice thick and full of emotion. “Yeah, I think I’m willing to accept those terms. I’d love to move in with you… Peter.”

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

He hears you counting to yourself before he sees you. “One, two…”

It’s not loud, just said in a normal voice, softer if anything because of how you’re panting, but Jack is so on edge and so desperate to find you he’d subconsciously been listening closely to his surroundings, military training kicking in. His head snaps to you and he doesn’t even know what to think when he sees you being rolled in on top of a gurney, performing CPR that would rival the quality of his own. 

“Why is she..?” He hears Robby question the paramedic as you roll in. 

“She was performing them just as well as we could and it was better to just scoop and run,” the paramedic explains. “She must have had one hell of an instructor.”

“Peter!” You yell, without looking up, not sure if he’s still here. You’re so used to it by now that the nickname is just what comes out of your mouth as you look for him. He’d texted you to let you know he was going in for a bit.  

Jack could sob and the entire team in the room with him can feel a crushing tension shatter. Maybe he does get a little teary just from the sheer relief. He tells himself it’s sweat in his eyes.

“Yeah Doll?” He yells back, not giving a fuck about everyone hearing him call you Doll, and you calling him Peter, knowing full well he’s going to have so much explaining to do about this entire situation, the confusion in the room palpable. 

“I’m okay!” This time he does laugh to himself. 

“Yeah I’d say so,” he mutters, smiling. He’s still anxious to see you, get his own eyes on you, feel you with his own hands. 

It’s only about thirty more seconds before his patient is stable enough and he can rip his gloves and gown off and start putting fresh gloves on as he walks into the trauma room you’d been wheeled into. Normally he’d yell out for someone to talk to him or ask what they’ve got but not this time. This time he doesn’t even care about who’s on the table, only the person who came off it. Only you. 

You’re standing to the side now, watching Robby and the rest of the team work, impassive as pink tears stream down your face from the dried blood on it. You’re just so fucking overwhelmed by everything and now that you’re not doing CPR everything that’s happened is hitting you at once. 

Jack says your name as he moves to you, needs his hands on you. 

“Are you hurt? Were you hit?” He rushes out. His voice brings you back and you look up at him with wide, terrified eyes. He goes to look you over but you latch onto him, hugging him tightly, shaking a bit. 

“I’m fine, I’m okay, I’m, I’m sorry,” you start to rattle off, fisting at his scrub top and clinging to him like he’s the only thing keeping you tethered to reality. In the moment he might just be. 

He hugs you back just as hard, kisses the top of your head. He doesn’t care who sees right now, all he cares about is you. “It’s okay, you have nothing to apologize for. I’m just so fucking glad you’re okay. I thought… I thought you were…” He doesn’t have to finish, you know what he means. “I can’t fucking lose you. I love you way the fuck too much.”

You’ve been so wrapped up in each other neither of you have noticed that Robby’s patient, the one you were doing CPR on, has started to code again. “Abbot, need you here!”

You let him go, nod at him. “Go on,” you whisper, “I’ll be right here. I’m okay. I love you more.” Jack nods at you and walks over, jumping in and assisting Robby.

It’s once you’re out of Jack’s arms, away from his warm body and more grounded in reality that you notice how cold you are, how you’re swaying because he was supporting you far more than you realized, how lightheaded you are, how your abdomen and chest really fucking hurt. You chalk it up to the adrenaline wearing off and being sore from the chest compressions you just did. 

On the other side of the room an instrument tray gets knocked over, metal hitting the floor in a loud clang. It startles you, makes you jump and twist quickly to see what it was, if it was another gun, another shot. You feel something almost tearing, a sharp pain across your abdomen and lower chest, a feeling of sticky warmth against your shirt.

You sway a little, start to realize how much worse the pain is now. It’s bad enough that you can’t even make noise to express the pain. There’s no air in your lungs, you swear. You realize your lightheadedness is now much, much worse, that you’re shivering from how cold you are. Or are you just shaking? You can’t tell. It doesn’t make sense. The room isn’t even that cold. You shouldn’t be so cold. Not unless.

You pull your shirt up slowly and look down and run your hand over your skin and sure enough, there’s a bullet hole seeping blood, about half way between your nipple line and belly button, skin now covered in a dark bruise. 

You cough a little, it’s quiet. It starts feeling like there’s water in your lungs. Like you can’t get any oxygen in even though you’re in a room full of it. The metallic taste in your mouth is what manages to seep into what’s left of your consciousness next. You cough again, into your hand, and feel something wet hit your skin. Blood. 

It hits you. You’re drowning in your own blood. That’s why it feels like you can’t breathe. You’ve been shot. In a bad place, one of the worst places, Jack had told you that night. You get scared, feel your heart pounding. It feels like you’re dying. You don’t want to die, don’t want to leave Jack. You’d just finished moving into your new place together, were going to spend all weekend unpacking and painting and getting furniture where you wanted it. You were going to make your home.

Time. You were supposed to have more time together.

“Hey, Jack,” you slur softly, struggling to keep yourself standing. Luckily he hears you. Your use of his first name and the slur to your voice has him panicking again already. Time slows as he turns around to take you in, eyes going from your face and the blood coating your teeth and trickling from your mouth as you try and smile reassuringly at him, down to your torso where you’re still holding your shirt up just enough for him and everyone else in the room to see the bullet hole and bruising marring your skin. “I think, I think I’m not good, it’s not good.” Your vision tunnels so fast you can just barely see Jack’s expression of sheer abject unadulterated horror and panic as you get out your last words. “Nipples to navel… no man’s land.”

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

Peter. Peter Rabbit by Beatrix Potter. Yes, I worked in a bookstore through college.

Part Two is up!

[brittle-doughie]

I’ll Take You V1 (I’ll Miss You Alt)

Some things are not fated to last, but trying to push closer only makes love farther out of reach. Results can be fatal.

———————————————————————

Five Cookies were baked by the Witches, radiant beings graced with wisdom and power unparalleled. The Five were destined to reshape the tempestuous world and usher in a new age of peace and prosperity for all.

Seeing as how the Five were unlike most Cookies, they could live on for far longer, the Witches have decided to bake one more Cookie. A Cookie that wasn’t as strong or held great power like them, but rather…as a companion for any of the Five to cherish and love dearly.

The love blossomed into something more that could be considered as forever happiness…

———————————————————————

You’ve always looked up to the Fount of Knowledge to know many aspects of this world like the back of his hand! However, all of the knowledge in the world wouldn’t compare to the joys he would have spending time with you!

He likes to spend his time in the Spire of All Knowledge cuddled up next to you as he reads books with you, showing you the many wonders of Earthbread! He always kept the stories interesting with his mannerisms and funny way of speaking, you’re never bored when he reads.

He makes sure to always leave time away from writing in scrolls and books to have moments with you, why would he keep his cutie patootie waiting on him! The texts could wait, snuggling up to you by his tower window was much more preferable to him!

“Man, you always tell such fascinating tales, my fair Fount! It almost makes me feel dull in comparison!”

“Oh, don’t let those little words come out of your mouth again! You are way more fascinating than any of the books I have! I can write whole books on their own on what you’re just oh so great to me!”

“Oh stop, you’re just saying things.”

“Far from it, my little Cookie~ It’s the honest truth~”

The two of you share a laugh as you look out the spire window, leaning on each other…

———————————————————————

The Herald of Change always had that bit of a grumpy side to him when it came to getting him out of his temple to come look at the new civilizations and kingdoms being created everyday.

Everything was the same to him no matter the result, but he could never say no to your requests to visit these civilizations. Your enthusiasm to see what could possibly be different was pretty infectious, encouraging him to go with you in these visits.

He was quite the protective one too, insisting that in return of going with you, you are to stick by his side as you two walked. He makes sure of that by having one of his arms around your waist, he behaves himself but will shoot a glare anyone getting too close.

“Look at that spring the townspeople made, my Herald! Look at the flowers blooming from the water and the creatures that inhabit in and around it, isn’t it wonderful?”

“It’s remarkable, but it’s nothing new to me. I’ve seen many springs like this before, they come and go eventually. Just like the many civilizations we’ve visited today, there’s so much more that I can get done by now!”

“The destination may be the same, but the journey doesn’t have to. It can be different compared to another, so many different ways Cookies behave and act, environment changing with many different plants and creatures. Tell me just one thing that you wouldn’t want to change.”

The Herald, looking down at the ground, slowly formed a smile as he softly laughed, turning his gaze to look at you. One of his arms going around you to hold you close to him.

“I’d say….”

“It would be us that I would never want to change.”

“Aw….”

The two of you hold onto each other close as you both looked on at the lively spring.

———————————————————————

The Seeker of Volition was immensely patient and considerate of you, shaping and changing her realm to make you as comfortable as you can be. She knows things around the Ivory Pagoda may not too interesting or extravagant, but that was alright with you. So long as you were with her.

Her displays of affection were pretty subtle that no Cookie that visited her would’ve suspected that you and her had something close and in a way, it made it more special to her. The gentle hand holding, the way she caressed your cheek as she spoke to you, it was small yet held so much love that she shared with you.

She’s always wondered why you never asked for a wish from her, with how many Cookies that visited her wanting that exact thing. Well, you didn’t really want to wish for anything, the Seeker was enough for you. Being able to stand by her side like this was a wish come true. She didn’t understand your refusal for a wish, but…it touched her that she was enough for you.

“After all the Cookies that have come to me for a wish, I did not think you wouldn’t be one of them. Is there not anything you want wish for?”

“Oh, Seeker. We’ve been through this, ehe. I do not want a wish, I have all that I need here at the Ivory Pagoda. As long as there’s this, I’m happy.”

“You are? After spending all of your time here at the Ivory Pagoda with me, you must have some sort of wish you want granted. Please, say the word. I shall fulfill it to the best of my abilities.”

“Well….”

“Yes?”

“I wish to take a walk around the Pagoda with you. Just the two of us.”

The Seeker was not expecting such a simple and mundane wish, she would’ve seen it as a waste if it came from any other Cookie, but…

To hear it from you…it made giggle softly with a smile.

“Hm…hehe, very well. I shall grant you your wish, my dearest Cookie.”

The two of you hold hands as you leave out the doors to her Pagoda, intending to enjoy a peaceful walk together…

———————————————————————

But could that happiness really last forever?

As time went on, it felt the Cookies you once held dear to you had changed, no longer being the Cookies you once loved. It was as if the power they held was slowly warping their minds and ideals into something more twisted and dark.

“But we both know it’s ever too good to happen.”

———————————————————————

The Fount could never be truly honest with you, always masking his words that tinged with deceit, always making a game of things. Even the books and text he’d were how you remembered…

“Fount, this..isn’t how the story went the last time I’ve heard about it…”

“Oh, that boring ol’ story? I helped myself to make a few changes that really added to the pizzazz of it all, don’t you think?”

“But that never happened! It’s a complete fabrication! Real Cookies have gone through those events, I feel like we shouldn’t tarnish that to make it “interesting.”

“Oh my! I’m hurt! I just wanted to make it more good! Oh well, I’m sure those Cookies wouldn’t mind, right? Come on, let’s read another, shall we?”

“N-no, I don’t want to read another. I’ll just..be in my room.”

“Hey! Where you going?! I swear the details on the next one are accurate! Mostly! Maybe!”

———————————————————————

The Herald never could see how you see the many locations and civilizations you two see, always groaning and muttering that it was boring to him. It had gotten to the point where he ignored you and remain sat on his seat in the temple.

“What do you mean you’re not going?”

“I mean it. You say that all these places would be different in their own ways, but it’s all been the same! It bores me when I have to go through the same thing over and over again!”

“I-I promise that I’ll keep your interest piqued with this one-“

“NO!”

He destroyed a nearby table with a single hit.

“You can go on without me from now on. I have no reason to endure something so boring as another town visit…”

“R-right, okay, I’ll just…go.”

You hastily leave as the Herald looked at his fist that broke the table, he realized something as a large grin on his face formed…

“That…felt good….”

———————————————————————

The Seeker didn’t feel like herself anymore with the coldness and apathy she now radiated. She didn’t push you away when trying to be close like old times, but she didn’t really reciprocate your affections like she would back then. It felt like..she didn’t love you all that much anymore.

“Where you going?”

“I must return to the Ivory Pagoda in order to continue my pursuit of becoming a Leavened One.”

“I know this Leavened One status is important to you, but…wouldn’t that mean I won’t get to see you much anymore. I can’t bear that…”

“Oh, Y/N Cookie…”

She caressed your cheek, but it didn’t feel right. There was no sense of love placed into it, as if she only did it to calm you down by reminding you of the past.

“You should know that I hold this opportunity dear to me, but it does not mean I value you any less, it is meaningless to worry. I must go.”

“What about my wish to spend the day together…?”

“You should also know that not every basic wish will be granted. I am sorry…”

———————————————————————

Regardless, it felt like you were kicked to the curb as you walked outside during the night.

You were not happy. You look up at the sky, wondering if your Creator was looking down at you too.

You ask them how could things go so wrong. What purpose could you have now that the Cookies you were made for weren’t themselves anymore? Were they even the same Cookies at this rate?

You ask…what could you do…?

…

…

…

You look down, only now noticing a nearly invisible string flowing in the air, red in color as it looked like it came from your chest. You reached up to hold it and in doing so, the string was seemingly cut and it floats away into the sky…

That…oddly felt liberating. You looked at your hands and realized that..you did have meaning outside of your purpose. There was a whole world out there that you could now explore! Many things to see and Cookies to meet!

You felt rejuvenated and head off to rest for tonight. Tomorrow, you’ll be a new Cookie!

Surely, the “Virtues” wouldn’t mind if you were gone for a little while, right?

…

…

…

…

But you weren’t the only one who felt a change after that string was cut…

The spire trembled.

The temple shook.

The cocoon violently spasmed.

Their occupants having felt the full effects…

The Fount suddenly tore the book they were “changing” as he keeled over, clutching his chest where his heart was…he felt…empty.

The Herald started a rampage in his temple, the pain in his chest fueling his anger and muddied despair as he destroyed everything…he felt…lost.

The Seeker, once settled in her cocoon, was now clutching her head with both her hands as she lets out silent screams of anguish, the pain in her chest amidst a void of white too great to ignore…she felt…voided.

One by one, they fall….

They’d find you, and they’ll take you….

———————————————————————

You were just about to carry on in your boat out of the continent when a sheep wandered to you.

“Oh hello, little sheep. You lost your way from your herd?”

“Baaaaa….”

“Why are you looking down? Come on, look at me…”

The sheep suddenly jolted up to look you, it looked furious as it’s eyes glowed shades of blue.

“BAAAAAA!”

“What?!”

The sheep poofed into blue smoke, and in its place was now a very angry Cookie.

“My Fount?!”

“ERRR! WRONG! Now let me ask you a question. WHY DID YOU LEAVE?!”

Shadow Milk Cookie had found you right as you were about to leave Beast-Yeast.

“I’m sorry, my Fount. But…I can’t do this anymore. You are no longer the Cookie I know and loved. You lie to me, you twist things so badly, I can’t even tell what’s true and what’s not.”

“I do not lie to you! I never could! You weren’t supposed to leave me behind! You were supposed to stick to me like glue for as long as the two of us lived!”

“We all change, Fount. That includes you and me.”

“Is that it?! Are you just going to walk away from EONS worth of our time together all for my new change of style?!”

“You are NOT going anywhere! You are coming back with me to that Spire and we are going to adore and be mushy to each other like always!”

“I’m going, Fount. I’ve made my decision…”

“Oh…hehe….ehehehe~!”

“What? What are you laughing for-“

Your movements are stopped, you are horrified to see blue strings wrapped tightly around your arm. You try to free yourself, but you found that all your limbs were wrapped in strings too. You pulled into his arms as he giggled menacingly to you, a shadow over his eyes.

“Oh, you silly little thing~ I never would’ve expected you to lie to ME! My brand new style doesn’t mean my heart went out the window! If you can’t accept how deceit seeps into the very cracks of this world, then…”

He leans in real close to your face, whispering in a chilling voice…

“I’ll just have to take you, cutie~ Ehehehe~”

You were never seen again…

———————————————————————

You were having a peaceful time in the civilization you were staying at, enjoying a nice meal provided by the locals when…

“AAAAAH! Run for your lives!”

“He’s destroying everything in his path, watch out!”

“ARGH! It hurts!”

The screams of Cookies in the distance alerted you to turn around from where you were sitting to see Cookies running away from something.

And their screams weren’t the only ones you were hearing.

“COME OUT TO ME, LITTLE COOKIE! I KNOW YOU’RE HERE SOMEWHERE!”

The Herald(?!) shouted in anger as he was breaking and bashing through anything in his path up ahead.

Cookies that were in his way were simply hit back with enough force to send them into walls or sliding back on the ground, he didn’t give them any time to move.

“Ah! Please! Show mercy!”

“Mercy?! There IS no mercy for you WORMS!”

The Cookie on the ground from an earlier attack tried to get up, but groaned in pain as Burning Spice Cookie slowly raised his weapon, the Cookie covers their face to brace for impact.

“STOP!”

Burning Spice Cookie immediately stops to look in the direction of your shout and locking eyes with you, he heads for you.

“Please, don’t hurt any more Cookies!”

“So…you’ve been here all along, spending time amidst these ANTS! The tide of Change will sweep through all, leaving everyone here as nothing but dust in the wind!”

“Have you NO IDEA how long I’ve looked for to find you when you didn’t come back the temple?!”

“To not see you by my side for DAYS?!”

“I know you’re mad, but please, you don’t have to do this! I’ll..I’ll come back with you…”

“Will you now…? I must be sure!”

“What are you-“

Your talk was stopped when he grips your shoulders and brought you to a rough kiss that left you coughing spice when he pulled away.

“Hahaha! Yes! I remember this feeling now! I expect you to stay in the temple with me, for as long as we live! I promise not to break you too easily, ahahaha!”

You felt conflicted as you were dragged with him back to the temple. He’d never let you go as easily again…

———————————————————————

You say farewell to a close friend of yours as you head inside your home. You were ready to turn in for the night as you offed the lights, it was particularly foggy tonight, so you chose to keep things closed up before you turned in for tonight.

You close your eyes and drift off to sleep..or at least, you tried to before you hear a slight creak in your room. You sit up and look, only to see a pair of slit pupils staring right back at you in the darkness in the room.

Neither of you move….

…

…

…

“I may give nothing for your loyalty, but to see you offer your mind and soul to another, right after I had been free from my cocoon…you will learn that it was pointless to try and leave me…”

“My Seeker?!”

She barely gives you time to let the realization sink in before she rushed forward to hold your cheeks in her hands, lifting you up effortlessly to bring you face to face with her as she looks down at you. Her eyes wide open and pitch black, her slit pupils bearing down on yours.

She was as expressionless as ever, but her eyes told you everything you needed to know that she was mad. You felt weak, dough turning pale..

“I never forgot our bond, the years upon years that we shared…my rise to the Leavened One should not have been a path I walked alone…”

“Why are you saying..?”

“I should’ve shared my feelings with you, to show you that everything will be futile in the end. Just like your intentions to leave me as just a thought…”

“No, you don’t have to…”

“THIS is my wish. To have you see what I see, to feel how I feel. About everything, about you…”

“No, please…”

“I promise…I promise to not have us walk alone anymore…”

Everything was a blur as she took you away from your home, up the stairs; and back to the Ivory Pagoda. The last of the outside world forever a distant memory as the cocoon wrapped up once more, Mystic Flour clutching you close to her body.

Together in a world of white, that is what she always wished for…

———————————————————————

“I loved you

Even though I loved you

I’ll treat you like this

Like the traitor you are

Return my feelings

I loved you

Even though I loved you

Forever”

———————————————————————

[coquettepascal]

purpose on earth

summary: joel loves to take, you love to give.

tags: 18+, smut, angst(ish), jackson era!joel, cold!joel, grumpy!joel, innocent!reader, dom!joel, implied age gap (reader doesn't remember pre-outbreak), corruption kink, joel takes your undies, humiliation, oral sex (m!receiving), allusion to thigh riding, a feeling of helpless/hopeless-ness permeates this fic, reader is pretty pathetic, use of "sweet girl", objectification of reader, unrequited obsession, this fic isn't necessarily sexy, just mildly sad.

a/n: i literally wrote this like an hour ago while i was supposed to be outlining my next project, but @hellishjoel told me to listen to my creative demons... so now this is being posted.

(1.1k, just a baby)

Nothing in this world has ever, or will ever, belong to you. Faint memories glaze your mind sometimes, when you lay down to rest. Not your own memories, but things you’ve read in books and seen in abandoned family photo albums. White wedding dresses, cars that drive, Sunday night family dinner. An American lifestyle that was sucked away with the cordyceps, something only they could clear out. The bombs the government used, the ones you can’t remember anymore, they never wiped mother earth clean the way she has done for herself.

She’s infected, and not yours. Nothing outside of Jackson’s walls belongs to your human hands.

You’ve never known ownership. The clothes you wear belonged to people before you, the ground you walk on cannot be sold. Maybe in another life this would feel fulfilling, but something in you wants to know what it is to own, or even fit in. Your skin, flushed and healthy, skin full of life and blood and organs. A heart that thumps in a world of disease, disorder, death. What a weird purity you hold, something you want to ruin. 

A person like you isn’t meant to own anything here. It feels like you have to belong, if you wish to take.

He will do it for you. 

Joel knows greed, remembers the world before. His hands have taken food, land, lives, anything you can imagine. It isn’t something you realistically think about, more infatuated with how he has the ability to do all these things. Not that you hadn’t committed your own sins, but to defend yourself isn’t wrong, at least that’s what he says. Something in Joel smolders the way only a primal fire can, he is from a world whose memory of a flame will extinguish soon.

He doesn’t help with any of your wants, your need to own or belong. But Joel shows you what it is to take.

You don’t understand the fascination he has with you. The memory of the night he first led you back to his house is blurry, a fleeting moment in comparison to what has happened since. There was conversation of music, of you having a tape you wish you could play. 

His hands were slow when they slid your underwear down your legs, you hoped he wasn’t looking. Nothing about you felt sexy or womanly, you felt dwarfed when he was so close. Again, you wished you could belong, so maybe you could hide. There was a stain in the gusset and you remember how he pulled the garment off your ankles when it dangled there.

“Lemme see,” he had demanded, “lemme see what I did t’you.”

Joel had smeared his thumb through the sticky wet mark, huffing in surprise. He knew it was for him, knew there was nothing else that could have made you do that. Humiliated, you had tried to yank back your underwear, but he refused.

“S’mine now,” he laughed, cheeks rosy.

That was the first time Joel took from you. 

Now you seek him, the ache for belonging in the world twisting to a yearning for him to take from you. If you could not belong to this world, if you could not fit, at least you could fulfill him. Joel doesn’t like it when you seek him out too often, hates when others notice it. You’re not his, never his, just a moment of gratification for his consuming greed. 

Once, you waited in the early morning at the stables for him. Crouched near the barn door, you waited and watched the dewy grass grow. The crunch of his boots, the yawn he let out as he passed by you, it was enough. He said nothing to you, took off on his horse with some other man trailing behind him. 

“Joel’s so responsible,” you thought to yourself, “he’ll need me later I bet.”

Of course, he did. You relished in the small victory of him stealing from you again. Purity leaks from you in the form of drool on your chin, when he pulls you off his cock. Joel’s thumbs push the spit back in your mouth and you suck it down willingly. Praise rumbles off his tongue and into your ears, a southern rhythm you find sanctuary in. Pushing his dick back into your mouth is all pleasure to him, but it’s a taste of greed for you. 

“Sweet girl, that’s a good mouth f’me, ain’t it?” Joel asks, head tilting back.

He never takes his pants off, but he strips you naked. His eyes arguably take more than his hands ever will. The bob of his Adam's apple hypnotizes your eyes as you garble a response to his question. Scarcely do you make sense around Joel, or even speak. You don’t think you can remember the last time you held a proper conversation with him, he usually just waits for you to come around.

It all starts the same, standing on his porch and waiting until he opens the door.

“Missin’ me?” He asks every time.

Joel doesn’t miss you, he doesn’t need you. He just likes how much you give. But you miss him, as soon as he pushes you out into the cold again you miss him. His greed is your purpose.

And so with your purpose, you push yourself down to the base of him. The waterline of your eyes is welling up fast, distorting your vision of him. You blink up at him like he’ll look down, like you’re more than a mouth. You aren’t, not to him, but you get to admire him like this. The puff of his chest, the swell of his throat, and his hands when they come to rip you off him.

He never pulls your hair, just grasps your face in his worn-down palms and pushes you away before jerking himself onto your naked body. 

“S’nice, you’re so nice t’me,” he grumbles. 

Under the yellow light in Joel’s living room, you feel useful. You’re doing more than surviving in this world. You have a purpose, even if he seldom needs you. He uses the sleeves of his flannel to wipe away the tears that slide down your cheeks, still mumbling about how sweet you are. Naked, smattered in him, you smile. Glittery eyes meet his and he snorts. 

“You were missin’ me, huh?” He teases. 

Joel rubs his thumb across your cheek again, the closest thing you’ll get to his lips on you. In his post-orgasmic haze, he almost looks fond. 

“He almost likes me,” your mind whispers, your stomach fluttering, “it’s almost like I belong.”

And once you’ve nodded in response to his question, messy mouthed and gazing at him, your purpose, he taps his thigh. Blood rushes to your head as you stand, crawling onto him. 

In your obedient mind, you define your efforts for Joel as a purpose, but you think you can taste a hint of belonging each time he spreads your legs. 

[valtsv]

sorry if this has been asked before, but are there any pieces of media that have shaped your conception of angels?

a formative one for me was his dark materials, when it described angels as only appearing in the form of winged humanoids because it was what was expected of them, and claimed that their true forms actually resembled architecture/"huge structures composed of intelligence and feeling" - i could never hope to draw the mental images that gave me, but it influenced my comparisons of pylon towers to angels, which are the closest reference i can give to the towering skeletal chain-like structures of light and matter that i imagined angels to be. it was also what first made me question the nature of angels, and begin to see them as something other than simply people with wings and halos who sang and/or fought for god - though i do have a weakness for angels imitating humanity, desiring and envying their free will and the unscripted lives it grants them, and in doing so becoming a little more human and a little less divine themselves, and falling in a metaphorical rather than literal, physical sense (which, to an angel, being an entity made of pure symbolism, is essentially the same thing, and can kill them just as surely as a sword).

kill six billion demons' angels are very inspirational to me; their naming system based on which reincarnation of itself the angel is makes me clap my hands with delight - particularly 6 juggernaut star, whose name belies how long she has endured through endless cycles, unable to break the wheel herself, and become entrenched in her own despair-driven futile rage as a result. and of course i'm a huge fan of 82 white chain's character arc involving an allegory for transition (specifically coming out as transfem) that also actually culminates in her transitioning (again, the symbolic and the literal go hand in hand with angels).

theres also this YA book called 'angel' by cliff mcnish that i read when i was like. eight? nine? i remember very little of it, and don't think it would hold up at all if i reread it now, but i do recall that one of the guardian angels in it died while saving one of their wards in a car wreck. the idea of angels as something that can be hurt and destroyed, that could be created to suffer and die, that could feel pain and experience grief, and potentially be imbued with supressed self-preservation instincts to serve their purpose, really flipped a switch in my brain.

[readwritealldayallnight]

“-was seventy-five degrees in Phoenix, the sky a perfect, cloudless blue. I was wearing my favourite sh- are you sure you want to listen to this, Si?” You giggled, shutting your book in favour of leaning your cheek against your forearm, tilting your head back far enough to catch Simon’s eye behind you. “I could always read whatever you’ve started, wouldn’t bother me.”

“Not the deal, lovie.” He answers, scooching further up the bed to where you’re laying on your stomach, head just as the edge of the bed so that your arms can comfortably hold the book at eye level. “S’your turn after all. You read me whatever you like.”

It’s true, it is your turn tonight. You forget how long ago this started, though you remember how the idea came about, Simon complaining about his back one evening while the two of you were laying on the couch together, each reading a book, quietly enjoying the others company. He was home for only a few days that time, and you’d insisted that he spend at least a full 24 hours doing nothing but resting and relaxing, a feat easier said than done with that man.

“Why don’t you let me rub your back?” You’d suggested, setting your book down.

“No love, you don’t have to be doin’ that,” he’d shaken his head, though you could see he was doing so reluctantly. His back really was hurting him something fierce. “Besides, I’m at the good part. Don’ wanna put this down just yet.” He’d gestured towards the thick novel in his hands, some war book, of course. His idea of relaxing.

“Oh come on,” you’d insisted, wanting to do this for him. You had tugged the blanket off your lap, coming to stand next to the couch, watching him raise a brow at you. “I can totally massage your back while you read, best of both worlds. Go on, flip over on your stomach.”

“Usually I’m the one tellin’ you tha- hey!” He had obliged you, turning over onto until he’s laying on his front, trying to hid the wince of discomfort that came with the movement. You’d swatted at his ass following his little comment, but your soft hands were already coming to slip under his shirt, skimming along both smooth and scarred skin alike. “But you were enjoyin’ your book too, love.” He tried to protest again, though his eyes were already rolling to the back of his head at the feeling of your touch, loving fingers squeezing at his strong, sore muscles.

“Why don’t you read out loud to me?” You’d suggested to him.

“Not sick o’ my voice yet?”

“Mm, never.” You came to straddle his behind, planting a knee on either side of him, leaning closer to whisper to him. “Favourite sound in the world actually.”

Simon was grateful you couldn’t see his face at this moment, as he was certain he’d gone beet red.

“Well, you let me know when you change your mind.” He grumbled, opening his book back up, clearing his throat and picking up where’d last left off. Three chapters later, your barely noticed how sore your hands were in comparison to how full your heart was, listening to Simon’s voice go from begrudgingly reading the passages to you, his tone slowly gaining enthusiasm as he became lost in the story once more, smiling to himself whenever he’d hear a small noise come from you in reaction to his reading, a gasp of surprise of a hum of agreement.

He’d gone to bed that night and slept better than he had in a long time, back feeling like a dream, and woke up the next day, asking if he could return the favour. Soon, the evening pass time of one of you massaging the other’s back while they read aloud whatever book they’re currently reading, became one of your favourite, most cherished memories with Simon, the tender moment so pure, knowing he looked forward to these small moments as much as you did.

The two of you had gone through so many genres in the last few months, you’d lost track, every type of book being brought off the shelf. Though you didn’t always share the same tastes in books, you could still enjoy the sound of your lover reading something that they love to you. Simon was always a good sport about your picks in particular, but tonight you couldn’t help but question whether he really would want to sit through your pick of the week.

“I’m not even sure if it would be better or worse to have you watch the movie first.” You say, your words nearly coming out in a moan at the end when his strong hands reach a tender spot in your back.

“Jus’ read me the book, cheeky girl, before I try an’ get more o’ them noises out o’ ya.” He decides for you, giving your ass a quick squeeze before returning to his diligent task of rubbing your back.

You decide you’ll listen to the Lieutenant this one time, opening up your book and starting again.

Who knows, maybe Simon will like vampires.

[urhoneycombwitch]

just before bed

husky!neighbor!Eddie x neighbor!reader

foreword: what can I say I’m a sucker for a big man who can pin me down to a bed. not sorry. also no Frank in this one. that one's on me sorry. happy reading xx

husky!neighbor!Eddie mlist

cw: husky!neighbor!Eddie, softdom Eddie, dryhumping, prone position, dirty talk, stomach love, Reader has breasts + vulva, R is fat/plus-sized, R wears a nightie, pet names used, like a lot sorry it's this version of Eddie that really brings it out idk what to tell u!!!

wc: 2.3k

____

Eddie does labor trading on Fridays- a couple of the neighborhood guys bring their cars to get worked on, and Eddie gets through them all in a single afternoon.

Coupled with your corporate meetings that always run long, Fridays leave both you and Eddie worn-out at the end of the day. 

By 9pm, you’re both tucked into Eddie’s cozy bed with the lights low. There’s a soft pillow to cushion your head as you stretch out belly-down beside Eddie, skin warmed and sweet-smelling from your shower. 

“Your water pressure’s so nice,” you sigh into the pillow, arms tucking underneath. “Can’t believe we use mine, at all, when clearly the move is to run naked across the hall to yours.”

Eddie exhales a laugh. “It’s a simple tweak to the flow restriction, I’ll fix you up next time I’m over.” 

He’s settled against the headboard, mass of curls tucked out of the way behind his shoulders while a pair of black reading glasses rests on his nose.

Only in a pair of boxers, too- thick thighs spilling from the seams and everything. 

Normally you’d lunge at the chance to lick his exposed skin all over- but you had to sit through a six hour meeting today, no breaks, and your back is killing, and you’re on the edge of sleep with Eddie’s gentle touches…

One hand holds the pages of his chapter book open while the other makes circles at the small of your back, absently and tenderly, while he reads. Eddie’s palm feels huge in comparison, palm wide and warm over the tender spot that hurts the most.

You’re beginning to think of other places his hands have been. 

It’s been a long day, sure, but you’re certainly not immune to the way he’s just grazing the top of your ass with his fingertips on the downstrokes. 

Or the way his thumb pays special attention to your ribs. 

Or- 

“Squirmin’ a lot, sweetheart,” Eddie comments mildly, eyes not leaving the page. “Back hurt?”

“Yeah.” It’s not totally a lie, your muscles do ache from sitting in an unsupportive office chair all day. “Just my low back’s being a pain. Nothing some sleep won’t fix.”

Eddie tsks, slides a bookmark into his novel before tossing it to the bedside table. The glasses follow, and soon Eddie’s on all fours, swinging a leg over your prone form to rest a careful amount of his weight on your legs (just enough to keep you securely pinned).

“Could let me fix it now,” he suggests, still quiet, knees digging into the mattress at your hips as his hands settle against the silky hem of your nightdress.

“Mmm…” Not the well-spoken protest you were intending, eyes slipping shut when Eddie’s thumbs press into either side of your spine. “Should be lettin’ me do this for you…”

Eddie shushes you, thumbs climbing the length of your spine, unspooling the tension of muscles as he goes. 

There’s a hazy, sleepy energy that pulls at you now, aided by the buttery yellow lamplight, the pressured touch of Eddie’s fingers at your back; it’s not the first time you cast thanks heavenwards for the particular set of muscles Eddie has been bestowed.

There’s so much control in each flex of his arms, the tendons in his wrist, the stabilizing features of his thighs against yours. 

You’re lost in the lull of the moment until the track of Eddie’s hands dip low, again, stopping just shy of your ass before giving the attention back to the tail of your spine.

He doesn’t seem to notice anything amiss, even with your slight squirming. You breathe steadily through your nose, willing your heart to stop the erratic frenzy of beats each time Eddie drags his path downwards.

You are trying to relax, really, but you’re also pretty sure you’ve soaked through the clean cotton pair of undies you meant to wear to bed, and you can’t help but wonder if Eddie can feel it, close as he is to your lower half… 

And then you feel it. The tip of Eddie’s stiff cock, nudging at the inside of your thigh when he overshoots his hand placement and rocks into the backs of your legs.

Eddie must feel it, too, ‘cause he stiffens slightly, brings his hands to a more neutral spot and relieves some of the pressure off your form. 

He sounds a bit sheepish when he whispers an apology, trying to keep the mood subdued- “It’ll go away. Just relax, sweetheart.”

”S’okay.” Your response is partially muffled by the pillow, but in an earnest attempt to absolve Eddie of any guilt, your right hand spreads over the duvet, seeking; next to your ribs, Eddie’s right knee is partially sunk into the mattress. 

By memory, your touch finds the front of Eddie’s barbed wire tattoo, a loop that wraps around to the back of his knee. The black ink is raised, like a little map that begs touch me! every time, and who are you to deny?

Your fingers play mindlessly over the span of skin you can reach, familiar ink lifted to meet you like a lover welcoming you home.

“Honey.” Eddie’s voice is a warning, but you hear the tantalizing edge of something else just below, even as he lifts his hands from you with seemingly herculean effort. “We can’t, tonight, okay? You’re too sleepy for me to get you all worked up-”

“No, wait-” Uncaring if you sound desperate and afraid Eddie’s making a move to leave, your hand tightens over his knee, pulling fruitlessly against his solidness. “-you can just- will you… just use me.”

Eddie swears softly and you know you’ve got him. His hands gravitate back to your sides, traveling down, lower than he’s allowed them to all night, palms spread wide over each cheek of your ass.

Eddie takes a fistful of the silk-covered fat, massaging, and then flips the bottom of your nightie up.

The action exposes your soaked cunt to the cooler air. A gasp leaves your lips when Eddie returns his hands, cool rings quickly leveling to the temperature of your skin, wet noise of your sticky folds audible when he spreads your cheeks apart. 

“Fuck me.” It’s half a growl, a rumble that causes goosebumps to shiver through you. Eddie’s thumb pets a line down your clothed core, exhaling sharp before he says, “Baby. You gonna be good and still?”

“Uh-huh.” It’s the most coherence you can manage with the ensuing flood of hormones that’s threatening to take your speech completely. 

You reach to shove the pillow aside for a better laying-down angle, cheek now pressing into the duvet as Eddie resettles against the backs of your thighs.

The cotton fabric around his aching cock head is already damp when it first makes contact with your ass, Eddie’s grip on your hips like steel as he holds you in place. 

He slides the length of himself against each cheek, a brief moment of intimate fondness; then his hips lower, cock dragging between the squeeze of your thighs, the soaked stripe of your panties.

Even through the layers it’s fucking amazing. Your nerves are on a live wire, barely daring to make noise yourself in favor of hearing Eddie- each pant, moan, and teeth-gritted grunt is sent straight to the beating heart of your clit.

You can feel the callouses on the bridge of Eddie’s palms in stark contrast to the softness of your skin. The same hands that wrench apart metal, that can lift a 75-pound dog like the weight’s no more than a feather- these are the hands on you right now. 

Caressing and holding firm, a perfect mixture of strength and knowing how to use it.

The beating between your legs is too intense to ignore; Eddie rocks forward again and you use the motion to send your right hand down, aiming for the crush of your pelvis against the mattress. 

You’re halfway there when your wrist is caught, a tight circle of Eddie’s fingers stopping the movement. 

“S’posed to be relaxing.” Eddie leans down to make sure he’s heard, warm breath at the sweet spot behind your ear, cock fitting snug into the cleft of your ass. 

He drags your hand back to its spot tucked into the hollows of your shoulder, both of yours now facing down to allow for maximum blanket grippage. 

And then, while he keeps the pressure of his body on yours, Eddie’s right hand fits itself between the duvet and the contours of your stomach. 

Your muscles clench in response, a warbling whine crawling its way from your throat until Eddie shushes you by kissing over the column of it and anywhere else he can reach.

One of Eddie’s favorite parts of you is getting special attention, his thumb sweeping warmth over the pouch of your stomach, hips grinding forward as he murmurs things like, “So soft. Feels so good, baby. Drivin’ me fucking crazy.”

The faint scratch of Eddie’s treasure trail can be felt as he sinks lower, boxers slipping down a bit in his eagerness, wide chest and linked necklace pressing into the planes of your shoulder blades as his middle finger hones in on your clit. 

With a shift of your hips, the angle is perfect- Eddie’s able to grind smoothly while making tight circles on the pulsing heartbeat of your arousal, keeping you both timed to the rhythm in his mind. 

Eddie noses over the side of your neck, a spot he once claimed is the best at holding your scent, inhaling long, exhaling sharp, words coming quicker as he works you both to that edge- “That’s it, sweetheart. Just feel it. Lemme make you feel good, honey, you deserve it.”

A whine claws its way from your chest, breath stuttering same as Eddie’s hips at the noise. Your cunt clenches around nothing as you focus on the electric feeling that starts to spread from the apex of your center, thighs beginning that familiar tightness and shaking.

“Eddie-” it’s the only word that makes sense, right now. You say it again, then again, keening and desperate.

Eddie answers in a slew of choked praise, cock throbbing against you- “Yes, honey, that’s good, baby- gonna fuck you right tomorrow, okay? Don’t worry. Just give me one like this for now. S’okay, baby, let it go.”

The electric feeling lights you up from head to toe, crying out against the duvet as everything tightens, squeezes, and then that blissful free fall to the tune of Eddie’s tandem moans. 

He doesn’t stop the firm and fast circling of your clit, working you through the peak, the aftershocks, the weight of his body along the entirety of yours a grounding comfort as your spasming muscles settle.

Eddie’s left forearm is planted next to your shoulder and he curls his hand around you now, the right one previously between your thighs resurfacing to hold your hip. 

Another few strokes against the swell of your ass and he comes with a low groan, teeth gritted as his forehead drops to your temple.

The quiet that follows is made up of panting breaths returning to normal, soft kisses to your cheek and shoulders, airy and sleepy giggles.

You feel the wet patch of skin on your lower back, leftover from the front of his boxers as Eddie reluctantly peels himself off of you.

“Don’t move,” he instructs with a hand between your shoulder blades- when he’s confident you’ll obey, he ducks into the attached bathroom. A moment later, you hear the sink running. 

Not like you could move, at this rate. Your hands are still tucked into your shoulders,  exhaustion beginning to add to the pull of a post-orgasm sleep. 

Eddie reappears with a warm washcloth, mattress dipping as he sits to lovingly wipe the smears he left on your skin. He runs the cloth over your low back, then slips your underwear off to wipe down between your thighs, careful to return you to your previously-clean state.

He leans to drop a kiss over the fresh expanse of skin, smoothing your nightdress back down before tossing both the washcloth and your underwear into the corner laundry basket. 

“Want me to go grab you a fresh pair?”

Eddie’s sweet to offer but you can’t bear the thought of sending him into the cold night, away from you, no matter how short the distance. 

“Mmm.” You settle for humming in the negative, too tired for much else. A smile pulls at the side of your mouth when you murmur, “Thought you said somethin’ ‘bout fucking me right tomorrow. Don’t need panties for that.”

Eddie chuckles in ill-concealed delight. “Right you are. Smart cookie.”

He leaves your side only to the dresser, pulling on a fresh pair of boxers before settling against the headboard again; his legs stretch into the sides of yours, getting comfortable before reaching for his book again.

You get a good, long look at your boy with the one eye that isn’t smooshed by the mattress. Eddie’s profile is backlit by the lamp- the lovely slope of his nose, the cupid’s bow above plush lips, the curve of his chin- you touch all of these parts in your mind, giving them equal love and attention, making them a meditation to fall asleep to.

Eddie reaches his free hand to rest, warm and big and comforting, over the crown of your head. His thumb strokes a hypnotic pattern against your hairline. 

The last thing you hear for the night, in his gentle baritone-

“Sweet dreams, sweetheart.”

[aphroditesmoon]

wish you'd ask me

clarisse la rue x fem!demigod!reader

summary: you're not good at reading subtle hints, clarisse realises that maybe she should've been more upfront with her feelings for you.

warnings: fluff, oblivious!reader, clarisse is down bad, reader is very neurodivergent coded, kissing, flirting, title n fic inspired by 'Wish You'd Ask Me' by Matt Maltese.

A/N: thank you for 1.9k followers!! I love you all dearly, my ask box and dms r always open, im glad that my writing is being enjoyed by so many people<3

wc: 4.5k

You have been in camp half blood for more than 4 years. You have made yourself at home for the last several years. 

It was easy to view yourself as lesser or inadequate in comparison to other mortals during your days in the real world before you were sent to camp. The world has never failed to remind you of how different you were. Always too much or not good enough, always special and never normal

And it wasn't like you were dying for some sort of diagnosis to justify why you are the way you are, but upon discovering that you were actually a demigod, it felt like all the questions you've been harboring to yourself was finally answering themselves. 

Everything clicked. Everything made sense, though at the same time, it felt impossible. You were a very confused little girl when you first arrived at camp. A girl who just wanted someone to tell them that it'll all be alright in the end.

And you still remembered the first person to hold you by your shoulders and made you look into their eyes as they told you that it was all going to be okay.

The girl with beautiful long curls and dark piercing eyes. The girl that everyone else, apparently, was afraid of.

But you could never be afraid of Clarisse La Rue. 

Not with the way she smiles when every time she sees you, the way she never fails to make you feel included even in activities you're not capable of participating in. Not with the way your whole body electrifies every time your skin touches, when your hands brush against each other. 

It didn't matter what anyone think, because no one could change the perception you've built of her. Clarisse La Rue is good. Or at least she is to you.

When you first heard of the rumours surrounding her, you did think better than to force a friendship on her. You strayed away from her and stuck to your cabin siblings and your books, but you noticed daily how she'd still go out of her way to talk to you at least once a day.

It didn't need to be a long conversation, just a passing acknowledgement. An easygoing 'hey, how've you been doing.' Sometimes she'd even go as far as cracking a joke with you.

With how serious her face is whenever she make the jokes, you'd have to think twice as hard and thrice as faster than another person to try and guess if she was being genuine or not so you could fit in a necessary laugh when you needed to.

Even as her anger became more apparent because of the new kid's accidental climb to fame and embarrassing the Ares' cabin, she still found time to make a conversation with you.

It had been long since you tried to ignore or avoid her. You learned that her attention towards you is harmless, and that she seemed much more comfortable telling you certain things compared to others. If she has been viewing you as some sort of safe box, then you don't really mind it. You liked listening to her talk and keeping her heart's intent as your secret.

You too, talking to her. To some people, you are reserved,  

and to others, talkative. Either way, people find it easy to discard you at any moment they decide you are irritating.

But Clarisse listens. And she asks questions, she's patient- much patient that anyone could anticipate or guess. 

It may be hard for others to believe, but Clarisse is more complex than she seems. She had the capacity to be gentle, and she had the capacity to respect boundaries. The more time you spent with her, the more that side becomes easy for you to access.

Today, however,  marks a new record for your friendship with her. A few weeks ago, she had informed you of her newfound interest in the history of folklore monsters. What a coincidence that you were currently self-studying on that specific topic.

She insisted that you hook her in on whatever it is you're learning. She had even gotten you a doughnut to eat together outside the library as you told her of your insights of dragons and their theorized blindness and incapability to differentiate a variety of prey.

The conversation went well, she seemed immensely in awe of your knowledge and had no problem telling you how she felt. 

You even gave her some book recommendations, though you knew she wasn't much of a reader.

You felt a shift in your relationship that night and had spent the next three days studying more and more about the topic. And today, you had asked her to spend the evening with you. 

You shouldn't feel so nervous asking her to hang out. That is what friends do, after all.

She found you in the library, sitting on the floor in between two large bookshelves. She had been right on time and enthusiastically so. The two of you sat together, hidden by the shelves as some semblance of privacy. 

Clarisse looked confused when you had explained that you indeed wanted to spend the rest of the day in the library, but she accompanied you anyways.

You could never get sick of the smell of the books. Old and new, they all have some nostalgic past tied in between the pages, begging to be discovered. 

You had your back on the walls with tinted windows above your head as she's seated opposite of you in a criss-crossed position.

Today, the library isn't as packed as usual. There were still people walking in and out and checking out the books on the counter, but not too many that it became obnoxiously loud and annoying. 

After finishing another book of Monsters and how to spot them, you're feeling knowledgeable enough to explain the lore of the Giants to Clarisse, she had asked you about this the other day, giants have been long extinct to the point that some might even say they may have never even existed. And so you were interested in sharing with her all of the information you have learned about the majestic species of a beast.

You started with the general information. The basic understanding of what a Giant is the mythhs of Giants and the validity of those sources. Clarisse listened closely in the beginning, never interrupting you unless she had an actual question.

She seemed in awe of the stories you tell her of. You don't blame her, for you yourself have been most interested in the topic of Giants.

You were an hour an a half in when noticed her attention faltering. She leaned against the cases of books, her eyes twitched slightly when you began to explain the different types of giants, and the difference of how they operate.

Her hands are folded together on her lap, and you can feel her listening in on everything you're telling her as she adds in some commentary here and there, but you also felt that she wasn't entirely in on the conversation.

The dim lights of the library made the atmosphere feel warm and secluded, even with its vast space and many other campers hanging around in the other tables and shelves. You made sure to keep your voice low as you spoke in fear of the librarian kicking you out. 

You had a good reputation with the library workers, they liked how organized and polite you were. 

"A lot of people think their greatest strength is their size, which is valid, they are huge, but their real weapon is their mouth." You told Clarisse, ignoring the litter of books by your left that you had brought over for reference.

"They kiss you to death?" She asks suspiciously. You laughed shortly and shook your head. "No, I mean their breath."

She responds with an 'ohh.' 

"They're giants, so their mouth is large too, and you can easily tell what they had for breakfast even from their tall height. Their breaths are also known to be so rancid it could kill you, because they don't exactly eat what we eat." 

She raises a brow as she stretches her hands upwards. "Isn't that ogres?" 

"It's both." You confirmed.

You were about to continue your explanation but halted by instinct as you notice how her mouth keeps pursing together as if unsatisfied, and she has that look on her face that mimicked a confused expression. You're don't think there's anything to be confused of.

"Are you okay?" You asked her worriedly. Clarisse sits up straighter at the question and waved a hand off to assure you she's fine. "Of course, no yeah- I'm fine."

"You seem bored, you're not really interested in what I'm saying are you?” She opens her mouth to counter your words but hesitates to say anything. 

"I- well, I like giants-" She attempts, "-no you don't. " 

"No. I don't." She admits with a sigh. "But I thought you said you were interested in these kind of stuff?" You questioned her. "Well, yeah, like the general idea of it. I mean, I don't hate it, and I like hearing you talk about it." She answers with a shrug.

"Then why do you look disappointed? If you didn't want to come, you could've just told me. I wouldn't get mad." You told her honestly. It was conflicting for you to see her so confused on what to say, being so picky with the words she chooses.

You figured she's probably reluctant to hurt your feelings. That is a notion you're used to. You'd rather she tell you the truth to your face than to be catered around like a time ticking bomb that everyone's so afraid might explode at any time. 

"When you asked me out yesterday, you told me this would be an 'evening to remember." She tells you with such confidence like it was an explanation to her weird behaviour today.

"You don't think this is an evening to remember?" You sincerely inquire.

"No, I do! I just- well, when you said that I didn't think you'd mean we'd be doing this." Your frown deepens as you try to figure out what she means, eyeing her body language closely. “What do you mean? I told you I wanted to hang out.” 

A part of you is offended. She was the one who had said she liked hearing you speak, why would she be disappointed that this was your idea of spending time together?

"I don't know, I thought we'd just be doing...something else?"

It didn't matter what she had really meant with that. You felt completely embarrassed once she finished her sentence. Why was it that everyone else had no problem having long conversations with their friends, but when it came to you, it's all too awkward, unnecessary, and odd? 

You liked Clarisse, you considered her your friend. Sometimes you wonder if it could ever be more, but you never entertain those thoughts because you don't want to ruin what the two of you already have. 

But moments like these resemble a huge slap in the face by the universe.

You couldn't even be good friends with her, how ridiculous of you to think that there could ever be something more.

"Okay, um, maybe we should just go back to our cabin." You decided whilst standing up and picking up the stack of books you're currently borrowing from the library, ready to leave the place without waiting for her.

"Hey, wait." She called out as you walked past her. You spared her a glance, trying your best not to show how upset you are.  “We're friends." She says it so much like a question that you weren't sure if she's even sure of the fact herself until she continued speaking. "I like hanging out with you."

Another thing that you weren't sure if she really meant. "Sure." You replied thinking it's the most suitable response. 

Before she could say anything else, you turned around and started picking up your pace until you disappeared out of her sight.

—

You have been consistently ignoring Clarisse. Which proved to be harder than expected.

When you pass by her camp or the training ground, you make a mental note to always look down or to your front as to never accidentally cross eyes with her.

And everytime you hear her call out your name, you keep walking like you didn't even hear her, knowing that she wouldn't be bold enough to call for you again. After all, she still had a reputation to uphold.

If ignoring her wasn't hard enough, having to deal with how you felt for her is worse.

You've been avoiding confrontation with yourself for weeks even before you decided to go no contact with her.

And so far, you thought you've been handling it pretty well. Except for days where you don't see her where she's expected to be. You tell yourself that you don't care as you make your way to training in the day and reading in the evening, and yet you still go back on your own words when you asked a passerby Ares kid on where his cabin leader was.

"She's dunking some kid's head into a toilet bowl." Of course she was.

You thanked the dude and went back on your way to your cabin. It's close to dusk, the sky is turning orange and the sun is dipping itself below the earth. You take your time returning to your cabin as you enjoy the way the sun slowly removes itself from anyone's viewing.

You wondered to yourself if things like these are what makes you weird or off-putting to some people.

Was enjoying nature and having niche interests only cute when it's done by girls pretty enough to be cool or if it's only in romance movies or books.

You don't find yourself weird, in fact you think all of your hobbies are pretty common and usual, and yet the way Clarisse had spoken to you at the library last week had made you feel unnatural.

You had wanted to do normal people things with her, but maybe your perception of normal is different to her.

Either way, you are pretty hurt with how she reacted. You loved her still, of course. It's kind of hard to unlike the girl you've been obsessed with since you were 15.

Once you finally reach your cabin, you quickly put down all of your books and your tiny sling back by the side before making it to the shower to refresh yourself before dinner.

You thought it hilarious of how hard you're trying not to care about Clarisse, and yet as you're cleaning yourself up, changing your clothes and attempting to read at least 15 pages of your World's Most Dangerous Beasts book, you could only think of her.

What would it take for her to think that you're cool, what kind of things did she want to do instead of listening to you yap around for 2 hours on what is an equivalent of a boring dinosaur facts, not that you really think dinosaurs are boring.

During dinner, you kept to siblings and had to make yourself finish your plate as your anxiety wrecking thoughts have a way of deriving you of an appetite. You also had to convince yourself to not search for her at the other tables which took more strength than one would expect.

But you succeeded, and you were now sure that the only obstacle left for the day was to try and fall asleep without the thoughts of her keeping you up.

Clarisse is a force, a fierce daughter of Ares, and a cabin leader who had much better things to do then hole up at quiet small places with you.

And just because she was nice enough to mantain a good relationship with you for 4 years, does not mean that you're worth her time. Or at least that's what you tell yourself.

That night, you managed to fall asleep after an hour of recalling Harpy facts in repetition. Counting sheeps had never worked on you, so you had to find something much more active to tire out your brain.

You dreamed of Clarisse with her hair down, holding your hand and pulling you closer so she could slip a flower on your ear.

And just as she's looking down at you, moving closer to do what it seemed like to kiss you, you awoke with a jolt, swearing under your breath as if you'd just gotten jumpscared by a ghost.

Someone's palms moved to shut your lips as you're met with a girl, hovering over you in the dark. Clarisse's dark eyes were recognizable, but it sent a shot of adrenaline through your body still.

"Shh." She whispered to your face, hand still keeping your mouth shut. "I'm going to remove my hands now." She whispered again. You nod in understanding and waited for her to pry her hand away from your face.

"What are you doing here?!" You exclaimed as quiet as possible as she helped you sit up.

"I'm sneaking you out." She answers with a wink. "It's 2 in the morning." You waved your hand around at the darkness and sleeping children. "3 in the morning, and yeah, I know. That's why it's called sneaking around." She corrects you with a grin so devilish that if you hadn't known her for a long time, you'd assume she's about to turn you into a new toilet bowl or dumpster boxing victim.

You sighed loudly and glared at her despite your fast beating heart. Her hand remained on top of yours until the minute becomes more awkward and she removes it as if she just remembered that she's been holding your hand.

Without explanation,  she climbed out of your bed and tiptoes to the open cabin door. You're still sitting up and looking at her with conflicted feelings.

Only after she turns back to you, cocking her head towards the entrance, do you give into her request and softly leave the comfort of your bed and trail after her.

"Where are we going?" You asked after her as she kept walking. Instead of responding, she asks you another question back, "Can you swim?"

"We're going swimming?" You watch her shrug in return from behind her and became even more distressed.

"So, is this your idea of having fun and hanging out then?" She laughs drily and slowed down so you could catch up. You walked fast enough until you're beside her and waited for her to talk. "You sound surprised, I would've thought that after 4 years of friendship, you'd know by now that I love doing things that includes active movements."

You did know that, it's a bit hard to not notice how much working out, training and running fuels her even more.

"And why are we doing it in the middle of the night?" The walk towards the lake by the back of the forest was short, considering that your cabin is the closest to the location.

You almost tripped and fell over a stick, but Clarisse was quick to scoop you back up by the back of your shirt. "Thanks." You mumbled to her. "And you haven't answered my question."

Clarisse pulled her shirt over her head and tossed it on the ground without caring of your presence. You, having more moral obligations than her, twisted your face to your left when she began to pull her trousers off. "Too many people in broad daylight." She tells you.

That is a valid reason, this lake is mostly known as a hook up spot, and true to it's cause, many dating campers have been caught together here during dawn or late evenings.

You braved yourself to turn towards her again slowly and realised that she had already hopped into the water. She had a sports bra on and a boxer.

And though you yourself had a tank top and shorts on, you contemplate the idea of suicide as a better choice than having to strip in front of her.

"Are you gonna get in, or are you just gonna gawk at me from there?" You were grateful for the dark being able to hide your flushed face from her, but deep down, you knew that she probably saw it anyways because of the shining bright moonlight.

"I can't swim." You told her.

"That's fine, the water's not very deep." You ransacked your brain for reasons to decline her offer, but at the same time, a small part of you yearned to take this risk that you've been so afraid of for gods knows whatever reason.

Clarisse is there, in the water and under the moonlight. You are only a few steps away from her. And like she said, the water isn't deep, only waist length. She stares back at you with a raised brow like she's challenging you to join her.

"Turn around first." You tell her. She smirked slightly before slowly spinning to the opposite direction. "You know I've seen you naked before right?"

"What?" You choked out, aghast. "Who do you think changed your clothes for you when you first got to camp." Oh, that.

Your shoulder relaxes as you realize she's talking about the first time you met. "That's was a long time ago." You noted. She hummed im agreement. "Yeah, we've both grown since."

You told her she could turn around once you're inside the water. Forgetting about the heighy difference between you two, the water was high enough to reach your chest, trying your best not to trip underwater the way you always do on dry ground, your hand instinctively reached outnfor her shoulder.

Clarisse held your forearm tightly and drew your closer to her until you're inches away from eachother.

You breathed in sharply and felt the need to fill in the awkward silence. "So, you...like swimming, huh?"

"Yes, evidently so." She answered. "Right right, can't sit still and all that." She actually chuckled at your sarcasm, making you proud of yourself.

"You know, even before I came to camp Half Blood, I use to be a pretty active person, running track, volleyball, sometimes swimming." Your eyes widened in curiosity. "Really?" She nodded.

"The counselor told my mom that I just had so many untapped energy, which I guess is a code for anger issues." Her grip on your forearm moves higher until her palm is over your shoulder.  "She told her that it'd be best for me to find a...healthy way, to channel that energy, and for my strong competitiveness. So I joined what I could, and that's how I spent most of my free time there. Besides, I never was that good academically. So, I ought to at least be good at something, right?"

"You are good." You blurted out. Your embarrassment faded away when you saw her smile. "You think so?"

"Yeah." You assured her. Her other hand had snaked around your waist without you noticing. Only when you moved slightly do you notice her holding you softly.

"The moon is really nice tonight, isn't it?" You said, trying to diffuse the tension. You pointed your finger up to the sky at the singular white orb.

She glanced up and let out a 'huh.'

"I like it when it's bright and whole like this, the moon in all of its glory. You don't even notice the starts around it when it's glowing like that." You could stare at the moom forever, even longer than the way you've been staring at the sun.

You believed in it the way children do with their birthday candle. To you, the moon has always been a symbol of hope or comfort for your future. Your fascination for it existed from when you were a child, the way it'd follow you from behind as you gazed upon it from the back of the car seat whilst your parent drove down the road.

The way it moved above you as you walked home from school, like one of the gods themselves watching over you.

"Nothing compares to the moon." You announced aloud, watching as the clouds around it began to gather over it. "Yeah, It's beautiful." You hear Clarisse speak.

As your head snapped back to her, you found that she had already been facing you.

"I like the moon...but not as much as I like you." She whispered loud enough for your ears only. Her face leans closer to yours, your noses brushing together. "Not as much as I like to hear your voice, when you tell me about your little harpy facts-"

"Oh, I haven't told you about the harpies yet." You cut her off. "I just finished that chapter this morning actually and-"

"-and, you can tell me about it after I'm done talking." You blushed and became silent, letting her speak.

Clarisse exhaled breathily, fanning your face with the subtle warm air. "I like doing things that friends do with you, but I don't want to be your friend anymore."

"Oh."

"I want to be more than friends." She elaborated.

"Oh." Oh.

You feel a sudden tightness in your chest, from anxiety or from butterflies is undecided. "You want to be best friends?" You joked, laughing nervously.

Clarisse snorted at your joke, but she was still grinning widely. "Best friends, If that's what you want to call it."

There was a moment of understanding shared between a second of shared gazes before her lips attached themselves to yours. An urgency, approval, meaning that can't be described by words.

Whatever gentleness there was inside of her before had vanished. Clarisse kissed you like a starved woman. Her lips craved yours like it'd be the last time she'll ever know how you taste like.

Your hands clasped on her shoulder and neck for support as she embraced you tighter to her body. You let her tongue slip into your mouth, meeting your own.

And as they danced together, inhaling all there is in your lips, every secret and every confession that have died on the tip ofnyour tongues, you are sure that no heaven nor hell could tear you open to see you back together like this.

You push her back abruptly, letting fresh air fill your empty lungs. "What's wrong?" Clarisse inquired worriedly.

"Last week." You sighed out, chest still heaving as your thoughts clicked together. "You thought I had asked you on a date, that's why you were disappointed."

She winced at the reminder, and for the first time in your life, you had been lucky enough to witness a flustered Clarisse.

"I'm right." Her silence confirmed. "Oh Clarisse, why didn't you just ask me?"

Huffing loudly, she rolls her eyes in irritation. "I thought I was obvious enough. "

Thinking back on it all, it did seem pretty obvious, but gods were you oblivious. The way you intepreted it all so wrongly.

"I've liked you for so long too." You admitted to her. Her scowl was gone at that, replaced by a teasing smile. "And what are you gonna do about it?" Her mouth returned to yours, letting go of all your fears and holding on to Clarisse like she's your anchor, you close the gap between your lips, welcoming the kind of pleasure that you've never tasted before.

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

Glitch

Pairing: Javier Peña x Steve's Little Sister Reader Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Summary: "We were supposed to be just friends." Warnings: smut, infidelity, secret relationship, jealous javi watching you touch yourself, unprotected p in v, oral (f & m), fuckin' in steve's bathroom yet again, cum eating, panties used as a pocket square, washington d.c. Words: 6,800

A/N: This has been sitting in my drafts for the past week and well, it's time to let these two start figuring things out. My thanks, as always, to @devineconjuring for her dot eating and telling me this is some of the hottest smut I've written. 🙂‍↕️

Suburban Sparks Masterlist Masterlist

—-

In the month following Nomad’s opening night and your reunion with Javier, the two of you find a balance that works. Friends.

Indeed, Javier Peña–the heartthrob of your late-teenage dreams, the man who made every other person pale in comparison—is now your friend.

A friend who has been to four of your performances, always sitting in the same seat in the back. A friend you call every night to say goodnight, waking him just so he can hear your voice. A friend you travel thirty minutes on the subway to visit on the very few nights you’re free from rehearsals or performances, no matter how tired you are. A friend you kiss hello and goodbye, your lips sometimes lingering against his longer. 

Yes, a friend. A friend who you lie to your boyfriend about. Poor Elliott doesn’t even know Javier exists or about your feelings for him.

Tonight, your friend is visiting your apartment for the first time. You straighten up your tiny place as much as you can–tucking away your pile of to-be-finished crafts, dusting off your hardly used entertainment console, hiding the pile of newspapers you kept from those months of you and Javi reading the news. You double-check to make sure the ripped photo of him is well hidden in an old book on your bookcase. You chuckle at the selection—Persuasion by Jane Austen. You’re fine with Javi thinking you’re an eclectic hipster, but not an eclectic stalker hipster.

You recognize the quick succession of knocks at your door. Your nervous hands smooth down the wrinkles on your dress as you hop up from the couch and open the door.

Your friend Javi strides in with a bottle of wine and a bouquet of flowers. Friends, right?

“You don’t have any sort of doorman or buzzer?” he asks, his voice low and tinged with concern.

“Hello to you, too.”

“Did you even check to make sure it was me?”

“Well, no, but I recognized the knocks.”

He grumbles, his shoulders shrugging in exasperation. “You live in the middle of Washington, DC. Anybody can just walk up the stairs and knock on your door—or do even worse.”

“Wow, you do know my brother, huh?”

“S-sorry, I just—I don’t like the idea of you being so vulnerable.”

“I’ll use the peephole next time.”

“And that needs to be covered, too."

“Yes, sir,” you mock salute.

He sighs, holding out the wine and bouquet to you. “And these are for you… as long as you cover your peephole right now.”

“I’ll grab a Post-It.”

—-

Two glasses of wine sit amongst crumpled napkins and scattered foil wrappers. Javi’s dark leather jacket is draped over the back of your tattered lounge chair while he relaxes on your couch, an arm stretched out and resting on its back. His side is warm against yours as your knees are tucked to the side, your head resting against his chest.

You’re not paying attention to the newscaster’s voice as they drone on and on about stock markets and the UN. All you can focus on is the feel of Javi’s fingers, absentmindedly tracing patterns on your shoulder. You sure are sitting mighty close for a friend.

“I told you those tacos would be better than anything you had in Laredo,” you tease, angling your head to look at him.

“It’s just like I remember it,” he says, thick eyebrows lifting high when he realizes what he just said.

Your eyebrows raise in surprise as you lean back. “Like you remember it?”

His eyes dart away, a hint of red coloring the apples of his cheeks. He shifts slightly beneath you.

“I, uh, went there.”

"You did? When?"

“A couple months ago. Before that impressionist exhibit left the Smithsonian. I wanted to feel like I was closer. To you.”

“Jav…” you breathe out, your heart skipping a beat at his confession. You can’t bear to think of him wandering your neighborhood, trying to feel closer to you.

“I missed you, and I was thinking that maybe if I could just see the places you go, eat the food you love, walk the streets you walk, it would somehow make me feel closer to you again. I was a goddamn fool, thinking that would be enough.” He sighs, running a hand through his hair, a stray lock falling against his forehead. “I understand why you moved on. And right now, I’m trying. I’m trying so hard,” he sighs, his head briefly tilting back before his eyes meet yours. He reaches his hand out, gently brushing his fingers against your cheek. “But… I can’t just be your friend.”

Your eyes flutter closed for a moment as you savor the warmth of his hand on your cheek, the honesty in his voice.

“I know,” you whisper. “I tried to move on with Elliott. But whenever he said my name, touched me, anything, all I could think about was you.”

The confessions settle heavily in the air between you, drawing you together. He kisses you tenderly, strong arms encasing you as your hands wrap around the back of his neck, soft curls slipping through your fingers.

His tongue glides along the seam of your lips, inviting you to part them. You open for him, a soft moan escaping. His tongue slips inside, exploring your mouth, a low groan sent from Javier’s throat vibrating through you when your tongue meets his.

There’s a steady thrum from his heart pulsing against your palm when it settles against his chest. The same heart you wondered if you ever had, let alone will ever have again.

A trail of kisses travels from your lips to your chin, his lips dragging along the contour of your jaw and down your neck. The sharp point of his nose nuzzles against your neck when he kisses you there. His hands roam your body slowly and reverently, finally able to take his time and not have to hide.

He’s been so patient, letting you take the lead, never rushing you, always holding himself back. Allowing you to stay with Elliott, though he knows you only ache for him. The month of barely restrained longing that lingered between you is erased as his fingers slip under the hem of your dress, running a trail up and down your thigh.

"Jav," you breathe.

He hums against your skin, long and low, growling when he inches higher, tracing the hem of your panties resting against your hips.

This is why you missed Javier. Elliott would touch you, but it felt so different compared to this. A pang of guilt flashes through your overwhelmed heart and brain. Sweet, patient Elliott, who always tried so hard to please you. You’d made excuses: you were tired, had a headache, needed to memorize lines. But the truth was, his touch was never Javier’s. Ever since those pillowy lips met yours in your brother’s dark kitchen, you knew there would never be anybody else.

You clutch at the fabric of Javi’s shirt, pulling him back to your lips, kissing him with need. Your fingers cradle his jaw, feeling the stubble and sharp lines of his face, so unlike Elliott’s smooth, soft skin.

“Baby,” he groans against your lips, pulling you onto his lap, strong hands planted against your back, fingers spreading wide and pulling you tight against him.

“I missed you,” you admit in between kisses.

Javi stands, surprising you when he lifts you with him, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carries you across the small apartment to your bedroom.

He gently lays you down on your bed before standing at its edge. He’s made of golden, domineering shadows when you stretch over to turn your bedside lamp on. He’s so gorgeous it makes you breathless. You ached to feel his touch, prayed to see him again, and now… he’s here, broad chest rising and falling with quick, shallow breaths that betray his barely contained desire for you.

“Is this the same bed?” he asks, his voice low.

You prop yourself up on your elbows, arching an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

A finger trails along the edge of the mattress. “Where you’d think about me,” his eyes lock on yours. “Where you’d touch yourself and imagine it was my hands on you instead?”

Your body heats at his words. Memories of lonely nights spent on the phone until the early hours, aching for him, come rushing back. Nights where you’d close your eyes and picture his strong hands on you again, his lips trailing kisses across your body, his deep voice gritting out your name.

“Yes,” you admit softly.

“Show me.”

You inhale at his request, nodding and holding his gaze as your fingers trail down the buttons of your dress. Slowly, you unfasten each one, the fabric parting to reveal more of your skin. His eyes follow your every movement, fists clenched against his sides like he’s feening to touch you.

Your dress falls open, leaving you exposed in your delicate lace bra and matching panties. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t put them on in hopes Javier would see them. A sly smile tugs at your lips as you watch Javi’s eyes turn from brown to black with desire.

You ghost your fingers over the sheer fabric of your bra, breath hitching when you tease your nipples through the thin lace. Goosebumps follow the trail as you glide your fingertips down your body to your ribcage and across your stomach.

When you reach the waistband of your panties, you pause, running your fingers along the thin band. Javi’s jaw is clenched, a muscle in his cheek ticking with tension.

A surge of confidence lights you from within when you see the outline of arousal straining against his jeans. Capturing your bottom lip between your teeth and sliding your hand lower, you spread your legs wide for Javier to see the soaked gusset of your panties. A soft gasp escapes your lips when you cup yourself through the thin lace of your panties, hips lifting slightly off the bed as you stare into Javi’s dark eyes.

“Is this what you’d imagine?” you ask breathlessly. “My hands pretending to be yours?”

“Yes,” he rasps.

Pulling your panties down and gently kicking them away with your foot, you’re fully exposed. Your hand slips between your slit, and you gasp as your fingers graze your pussy, puffy and dripping with need. You’re so wet your fingers easily glide across your clit down to your entrance.

"I'd picture your hands," you pant, your hips rocking against your touch. "Your mouth. The way you'd look at me like you're looking at me right now."

“Would you think about me while with him?” Javi asks, his whole body taut with restraint.

Him… Elliott. Your hand pauses, and a surge of guilt meets your arousal as it pangs against your heart at the thought that Javier would ever think you could move on.

“No, don’t stop,” he rasps. “Tell me.”

You swallow hard, your fingers slowly petting yourself. “Yes,” you whisper. “I’d try to imagine it was you touching me, not him. But it never felt right.”

“Did he ever make you feel as good as I did? Even just on the phone?”

You shake your head. “No. His hands were too soft and hesitant. I wanted… I needed…”

“What did you need, cariño?”

"You," you breathe out.

His jaw clenches tighter. "Did he make you cum?"

You nod your head. “But we barely did anything. He was very respectful, but when we did, I-I was always thinking of you.”

A low growl escapes Javi's throat when he climbs on the bed, stalking towards you, stopping right in front of your cunt that’s aching with need. His hot breath fans across you, eyes locked on yours as he leans in, the tip of his nose deliciously bumping against your clit. A slow, deliberate line is licked up your pussy, and you gasp at finally feeling Javier where you’ve been craving him; you’ve thought about how good his pouty lips felt against your cunt since the first lick against it. His eyes flutter closed as he tastes you, a low groan rumbling in his chest. Just as you’re about to reach down and pull him closer to you, he pulls away.

“Does Elliott’s tongue feel as good as mine?” he asks, his voice hoarse.

“No,” you pant. “No one can make me feel like you do.”

Brown eyes search yours before he nods, lowering his head and sealing his mouth over you. Your hands fly to his hair, fingers tangling in his thick locks as he licks and sucks at your clit, drawing patterns that have you writhing and moaning. He grips your thighs, holding you open as he devours you like you’re all he’s ever craved.

He slips a thick finger inside you, groaning as you whimper his name. He slowly pumps it in and out, his tongue swirling on your clit. Heat coils low in your belly, spreading warmth between your thighs. You’re so close, teetering right on the edge—until another finger enters you, curling inside, running along the velvet spot that makes your legs tremble.

He works you, pulling his fingers out, tracing your hole slowly before diving back in. His tongue flicks against your clit as he seals his mouth around your sensitive bud and sucks.

“Oh god,” you moan, your hips rocking against his face.

He hums against you, your hands tightening in his hair as the pressure inside you builds.

You’ve missed him so much. Ever since you had him in that guest room, his touch is all you’ve dreamed about. You thought you’d lost it forever, until now–right now–as he swipes his tongue against your clit and thrusts his fingers into your pussy.

Javi’s eyes lift to meet yours, dark brown looking almost black with desire. The sight of him between your thighs–mustache glistening with your arousal, nose resting against your lips, brows furrowed in concentration as he makes you cum–seems like it’s right out of every single dream you wished to have.

You shout his name, back arching off the bed, toes curling, pulling at his hair as your orgasm lights through you.

He doesn’t stop, licking and sucking you through it, drawing it out until you’re too sensitive and tears are pricking at your eyes. Only then does he pull his mouth away, his fingers still buried inside you.

His eyes stay locked on your cunt, his fingers slowly pumping, watching intently as your pussy pulses for him, your walls still clenching him.

Your chest heaves as you come down from your high.

He looks up at you reverently. “God, I missed you,” he whispers, placing a soft kiss on your inner thigh as he pulls his soaked fingers out.

You reach for him, pulling him up your body until his face is level with yours. You kiss him, tasting yourself on his tongue, relishing in the taste of your desire for him.

As you kiss, your hands roam over Javi's broad shoulders, feeling the tension in his muscles melt under your touch. You tug at the hem of his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against yours.

He breaks the kiss and sits back on his heels, slowly unbuttoning his shirt, revealing his golden skin. You instantly reach out, feeling the smattering of hair on his chest beneath your palms before moving down to his belt buckle.

He helps you undo his belt and jeans. He kicks them off, along with his shoes and socks, until he's left only in his briefs. You unhook your bra, tossing it aside as Javi's eyes roam over your now-naked form.

"Beautiful," he breathes, his hand coming up to cup your cheek.

It’s hard to believe this is only the third time he’s touched you like this.

"Javi," you whisper, sliding your hands down his chest to the waistband of his briefs. With a swift tug, you pull the fabric down, freeing his cock. What a sight. You haven’t been allowed to take all of him in like this–he stands long, thick, and hard, jutting from the thick nest of dark hair at the base. You trace the vein up to his head, glistening with a pearl of precum. He’s gorgeous.

He watches you, dark eyes never leaving your face as you wrap your hand around him. You give him a slow, languid stroke, savoring the feel of him. Warm, soft, hard. A hiss escapes his lips, his hips bucking slightly.

You lean forward, pressing a tender kiss to his chest, right over his heart. You stay there for a moment, feeling the steady beat of his heartbeat against your lips.

“I need you,” you confess against him. “I’ve needed you for so long.”

He cups the back of your head, gently pulling you up for a kiss. His lips move against yours, your tongues tangling against one another.

He pulls away, resting his forehead against yours. “I’m here,” he promises, breathing against your mouth. “I’m here now.”

You pull him down with you as you lay back against the sheets. He hovers above you, his weight supported by his forearms caging your head. The weight of him warms you as he settles heavily between your thighs. He’s so hot and hard against your core as you shift your hips up, trying to make contact.

“Javi,” you whisper, wrapping your legs around his waist.

He reaches between your bodies, guiding his cock to your entrance. He watches you, his eyes locked on yours, as he slowly sinks inside. Oh, the stretching sting of him makes you lose your breath.

“Fuck,” he groans, his eyes fluttering closed for a second before snapping open again, watching every emotion cross your face as you adjust to the size of him. He moans low in his chest as he fills you completely. Finally, you feel complete, the months of longing dissolving away as he slowly begins to move inside you.

He rocks in and out, long and slow. His head tilts down, watching himself move, cock sliding in and out, disappearing with every deep thrust. The sight of him so focused on watching himself fuck you is too much—his lips slightly parted, his thick brows furrowed, the sharp slope of his nose. You can’t resist. You lean up and kiss the top of his nose.

He looks back up at you, a slight smile lifting his lips as he still drives into you. “What was that for?” he asks, panting against your lips.

“I don’t know,” you gasp as he fucks you harder. “You’re gorgeous.”

His mouth crashes to yours, kissing you harder and deeper as his hips snap against yours faster. He moans into your mouth, swallowing the sounds you gift him as he slams into you, your headboard clanging against the drywall.

You’re slick and wet from the ache of wanting him all this time, each thrust sending shockwaves through your body.

“Oh god, Javi,” you moan, your nails biting into his shoulders as you cling to him.

He pushes deeper and harder, arms trembling, his face tight with concentration. “Say my name,” he grits. “Say it again.”

You obey, loudly crying out his name as your orgasm swells inside your body, sparking you from within. Your cunt clenches Javi’s cock–you’re so tight around him that his pace stutters, his hands clasping the sheets as he braces himself. He swallows your gasps and moans as your orgasm consumes you, his hips faltering and getting sloppier as he nears his own release.

Your fingernails claw against his back, leaving thin red marks against his golden skin as you fall apart around him. Your name is moaned out as your tight cunt pulses and squeezes his cock. His thumb begins sweeping tight, firm circles against your clit as you force your eyes open, staring into his brown eyes as your second orgasm shatters you.

“Javi,” you breathe. His lips find yours as his hips stutter to a halt, buried as deep as they can as your pussy milks him. He pulses inside you, spilling himself in warm, thick shots that fill your accepting cunt. He moans low in his throat, the sound vibrating against your neck as he kisses across your heated skin.

He slowly collapses, pliant and heavy on top of you, his lips leaving a gentle kiss against your chin. Neither of you move, both of you content basking in the sensation of finally feeling each other’s skin and heat after months of distance and heartbreak.

The last thing you hear before falling asleep that night is a contented sigh from Javier as you rest your head on his bare chest.

Definitely friends.

—-

Definitely friends. Friends who have sleepy morning sex after the alarm on Javier’s watch wakes both of you up at 6 AM. Friends who shower together, kissing as you both wash each other. Friends who stare longingly into each other’s eyes when Javier leaves your apartment, your chin clutched between two fingers before he leans in and kisses you goodbye.

“You’re right. Your place is perfect,” he says, giving you one last kiss before he leaves. “Except for the door situation.”

—-

Elliott notices your distance, but the sweet man allows you it. It’s so hard to even look at him, his big green eyes so honest and kind. You haven’t been the same since Javi left those flowers in your dressing room, but you go through the motions with Elliott as much as you can. What else can you do?

Acting is your one true love, so the whole living a double life thing works for you as you think of Javi’s touch when Elliott’s fingers brush against yours, or when you tell Elliott you’re exhausted as he offers to take you out.

You feel terrible whenever he sends you a tender smile or a sweet compliment.

“You’re quiet again,” Elliott notes one night after a performance, grabbing your hand.

You force a smile you don’t feel. “Just tired.”

You’re sure he doesn’t believe you, but he won’t push it. He never does.

Maybe he knows you’re untethering yourself from him, just waiting for the play to end… or maybe he’s just too good of a guy to call you out on it.

You still have a month left of performances, but that still doesn’t stop you from waiting for everything to blow up.

—-

A pretty tablecloth–embroidered with flowers that bloom throughout it–covers the table; fancy-looking dishes and wine glasses are set atop. Candles and vases filled with white and pink roses are set along the length of the table. You smooth down the shiny fabric of your dress; it’s also covered in flowers, making you feel like you match the tablecloth.

“Kid,” Connie catches your attention. She nods towards the house, signaling you to follow her. You know what this is going to be about. Damnit.

You follow her in, softly shutting the door behind you.

She leans against the counter–the same one Javi pushed you up against the first night you met him. “I’m sure you know Javier’s going to be here.”

“I do.”

“And Elliott’s coming too?”

“He is.”

“Damnit, Kid,” Connie sighs. “You and Javier know to behave?”

“We do.”

You need to tell him, you know that?”

“Who? Steve? I know.”

"No, Elliott. Hun, I've seen the way you and Peña look at each other," she says, her voice gentle but firm. "Elliott’s a good guy, and he’s going to see it.”

“And Steve?”

“Look, Steve is still oblivious, but the longer this goes on, the more and more likely it’ll be that he’s going to see something.”

“I know. I just… don’t know how to tell him.”

Connie sighs a long, drawn-out exhale. “I’m not happy keeping this secret from my husband. I’m sure you’re not happy keeping it from Elliott. But it feels wrong to hide and lie about something… so important.”

You nod, the guilt quietly gnawing at your insides.

“I know.”

“But,” her serious tone turns lighter. “I did seat you across the table from Javier, so you’re welcome.”

Damn Connie, she can never deny a good love story.

—-

Steve and Connie’s parties are always legendary, especially when they’re celebrating their wedding anniversary. A full bar sits stocked with specialty cocktails and drinks, a mixed CD curated by Steve–featuring his and Connie’s favorite songs–plays on the stereo he lugged outside earlier this afternoon, and torches and lanterns glow across the expansive yard. Your parties are much more… chill–a bunch of ashtrays laid across your various watermarked table tops, one of your friends lightly strumming the old guitar your ex-boyfriend left you, maybe a cheap case of beer or a jug of Carlo Rossi wine if you’re feeling fancy.

You’re midway through your second glass of wine, with Elliott’s arm wrapped around your waist, holding you close. You wonder if he feels the way your spine stiffens when you first spot Javier walk out of the French doors to the patio.

He looks so gorgeous and broad in his light brown jacket over a crisp white button-down shirt with the top two buttons hanging open. Good god, his shoulders look even broader.

His eyes scan the crowd, no doubt searching for you. He spots you across the crowded yard and gives you a small, secret smile that makes your heart flutter.

Connie walks over to him, hugging him hello before you see her tell him something, his eyes glancing towards you before he nods. 

Javi makes his way through the crowd, stopping to shake hands and exchange pleasantries with familiar faces. As he passes you, his hand brushes against your back ever so slightly, making you choke on your drink.

“You alright?” Elliott asks in your ear. 

“Y-yeah, I’m fine,” you stutter, trying to smile through the sparks lighting through your body at Javier’s touch. 

It’s torture, constantly watching Javi as you try to pay attention to Elliott and the other party-goers. This was a bad idea.

—-

You splash water on your face, trying to cool down your skin, overheated from the warm summer night and Javier’s presence. Jesus, it’s not even dinner time yet, and you’re already praying this damn party is almost over.

knock knock

You knew it.

You smirk at your reflection in the mirror before gently opening the bathroom door.

Javier slips inside the bathroom, gently closing the door and locking it. Then, his body is immediately pressed against yours.

Same white tile bathroom, same feel of the countertop edge pushing against your skin. It feels just like that morning all those months ago.

He kisses you, his needy mouth all over yours.

“I've been wanting to do this all night," he whispers.

Your hands slide up his chest to rest on his broad shoulders. “Javi, we can’t. Not here. Everyone’s outside. Dinner’s soon.”

But even as you protest, you tilt your head, giving him better access to your neck as he presses open-mouthed kisses along your throat.

"Just a minute. Give me just one minute with you."

You could never deny him, even if it risks getting caught. You whimper softly. “One minute.”

All this secret running around is getting to be ridiculous, but before you can worry about it, his hands roam down your body, bunching your dress up and running his fingers along the gusset of your panties before slipping them to the side. “Jesus baby, you’re so wet for me, aren’t you?”

He just touched you like this a few mornings ago before he left your apartment in the same suit he wore the day before, borrowing an old tie you had thrifted to keep up appearances. 

You want to protest. You want to tell him he needs to leave. Steve and Elliott could easily catch you. But you stay silent, your head falling back, your teeth biting into your lip to stifle a moan as his fingers explore your slick folds.

He turns you around, your eyes meeting his in the mirror.

"You can't expect me not to want to fuck you when you show up looking like this, can you?" he growls, his hands gripping your hips.

Before you can respond, he bends you over, your hands instinctively clutching the edge of the countertop.

Javi lifts your dress, bunching the fabric around your waist.

“Fuck, I-I can’t wait any longer,” he growls. He reaches down, unzipping and freeing his cock.

He grabs your panties and tears them off easily. Damn lace.

“Shh,” he murmurs. “Let me make you feel good, baby.”

Javi runs the head of his cock through your wet folds, coating himself in the wet you’ve gushed out for him since he stepped into the backyard. He thrusts inside you, his eyes staying on you through the mirror as he begins to move. Your teeth dig into your lip to stifle a moan as he drags his cock in and out of you.

Slow and deep. Slow and deep. Slow and deep. He’s driving you crazy. You push back against him, silently begging for more.

Javi’s hands grip your hips tighter as he begins moving in you faster.

If you listen close enough, you can faintly hear the party outside over the sound of your quiet gasps and the light slap of Javi’s hips against your ass.

His rhythm quickens, his hips snapping against you with more urgency. Your fingers grip the counter’s edge tighter as you struggle to stay quiet. The mirror begins to fog slightly from your panting breaths.

“Look at me,” Javi growls softly.

You look up, a moan escaping your mouth when you see the intensity in his eyes. One of his hands slides up your back, tangling in your hair. He tugs gently, arching your back as he drives deeper into you.

You’re close, brought on by the way he’s looking at you, the way his cock stretches you, and the risk of somebody coming up the stairs.

“I’m close,” you grunt, barely above a whisper.

His hand snakes around to rub your clit. “Cum for me, baby. Nice and quiet now.”

Your walls clench around his cock as you silently orgasm, eyes wide staring at him as he grits his teeth and chases his own release.

“Fuck, I’m cloooose,” he growls as he pulls out, gripping his cock. “Suck me, baby.”

You move quickly, turning and kneeling down on the cool, tile floor.

You wrap your lips around Javi's thick cock, taking him deep into your mouth. Your tongue swirls around his shaft as you bob your head. He groans softly, his plush bottom lip captured between his teeth, his fingers tangling in your hair.

“That’s it baby, you looks so good.”

Javi’s hips start to thrust slightly, pushing himself further into your mouth. Your throat relaxes, letting him slide in deeper.

You look up at him through your lashes, holding eye contact as he hits the back of your throat. He watches intently as his cock disappears between your lips.

Your hand comes up to gently massage his balls as you hollow your cheeks and suck him harder.

“Fuck, gonna cum,” he grunts, his grip tightening in your hair.

You double your efforts, sucking harder and faster. Your free hand strokes what doesn't fit in your mouth, twisting slightly as you move up and down his shaft.

Javi's breathing grows ragged, his thighs tensing beneath your fingers. With a low groan, he begins to pulse in your mouth. Hot spurts of cum hit the back of your throat as he finds his release. You keep sucking, swallowing around him as he empties himself.

His fingers gently stroke through your hair as the last aftershocks roll through him. He cups your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze.

"Swallow it all, baby.”

You stare into his dark eyes as you swallow every drop of him.

Javi's thumb traces over your bottom lip, wiping away a stray drop and pushing it into your mouth.

"Good girl," he praises softly.

You rise on slightly shaky legs, smoothing down your dress. Javi tucks himself away and helps straighten your dress.

He reaches under your dress, his rough palm sliding over your bare skin. He grabs your ass, squeezing gently as he pulls you flush against him.

"Be careful out there," he murmurs, his lips brushing your ear. "You don't have any underwear on now."

“You’re such a jerk sometimes,” you slap his arm.

"You're so beautiful,” he whispers as he cups your face in his hands, his thumbs caressing your cheeks. His eyes roam over your face, drinking you in before he leans in and kisses you.

“Go on ahead, baby,” he whispers.

You reluctantly pull away and slip out of the bathroom to rejoin the party, your little secret tucked away for now.

—-

Connie calls everyone for dinner underneath the roof of their large gazebo. It’s one of your brother’s pride and joys. The perfect place for his wife to set up a beautiful table full of vases, candles, and little framed placeholders.

Elliott pulls out your chair as you take your seat at the table, the absence of your underwear making you acutely aware of every movement.

Javier takes his place across from you, his eyes meeting yours briefly with a knowing glint.

Everyone ooh’s and ahh’s as Steve brings over a large chunk of prime rib on a fancy platter. You sigh, already preparing yourself for a plate full of salad and rolls.

Steve stands at the head of the table, raising his glass. "I'd like to propose a toast," he announces. "To my beautiful wife. You’ve stayed by my side through thick and thin, Colombia and beyond. I couldn't ask for a better partner in life. And to our friends gathered here tonight, thank you for being part of our family." Steve raises his glass higher. "Speaking of family, to my little sister, who just finished her first ever lead role. I can’t believe how talented you are. I’m so proud of you.” Steve’s voice falters as he chokes up in pride. Elliott places a soothing hand on your back as your breath catches at your big brother’s support. “Anyways, to good food, good friends, good family, and the best wife a man could ask for."

Everyone raises their glasses in agreement. You catch Connie's eye, and she gives you a subtle wink before you look across at Javi. His gaze is heated, his eyes looking right at you as Elliott rubs your back. For the first time, you actually feel like you’d like to know how it feels like to celebrate an anniversary, to look across the table and see the person you love, to spend the rest of your life with someone… just as Elliott leans forward and places a tender kiss against your cheek.

Javi shifts in his seat, his eyes narrowing, until he scratches against his chest pocket, drawing your attention downward. That's when you notice it–a flash of delicate lace peeking out from his pocket. Your eyes widen as you realize what it is. Your panties are folded neatly and tucked into his jacket like an ornate pocket square.

It’s right there at that moment you know you need to let Elliott go. He’ll never be Javier.

—-

You’re exhausted. Nomad only had its last performance last week, and you just got done with the first rehearsal for the director’s next play, Saturn’s Sprites. This time, Elliott did not get cast.

You rest your head on the train window as it buzzes against the tracks, taking you across the Potomac to Arlington.

Last night’s conversation with Elliott still weighs heavily on your heart. You went to bed last night, tossing and turning as you remembered how his face looked when you finally told him you couldn’t stay with him. The confusion, flashing into hurt, then turning to a quiet resignation… somehow, that felt worse than if he shouted at you.

"There's someone else, isn't there?" he'd asked, his voice calm as you sat across from him at that little café you both used to love.

Your silence was answer enough for him.

“It’s the guy from your brother’s parties, the one with the mustache. Isn’t it?”

You looked down at your untouched cup of tea. Another nod.

“He wouldn’t stop looking at you. I could see it. I was just hoping it was one-sided,” he sighed. “I guess I was wrong.”

He didn’t even storm out. He wished you luck and left the money on the table for your order. That’s the kind of man Elliott was, decent to the end.

The subway doors hiss open, and you step out onto the familiar platform. You’ve memorized how many steps it takes to ascend into the more upscale streets of Arlington.

You’re thankful you changed into a light cotton dress when the bright summer sun reflecting off the Potomac hits your skin as you make your way to Javi’s apartment.

You buzz the familiar intercom.

“Yes?” Javier says, always a hint of uncertainty in his voice, even when he’s expecting you.

“It’s me,” you reply.

There’s a pause, then a buzz, and the door unlocks.

You take the elevator, leaning against the shiny wall as it takes you up to his floor. The now familiar ding alerts you that you’ve arrived.

The hallway is cool compared to the heat outside, your sandals tapping softly against its low carpet.

You’re always tempted to pinch yourself whenever Javier Peña answers his door. All broad-shouldered and golden-skinned. His mustache lifts up in a smile, his brown eyes warm when he steps aside and lets you in.

This was something you used to dream about.

“How was work?” you ask before depositing your purse on the table that now has two placemats on top of it.

“Same old bureaucratic bullshit.” He pulls you in close for a hug before kissing your lips. “How was Elliott?”

“He knew. I didn’t tell him about… us, but… he expected it. He took it better than I expected,” you sigh. “I hope he’ll be okay.”

“He won’t,” Javi says matter-of-factly.

“Hm?”

He holds you close, tightening his arms around you. “You’re impossible to get over. Trust me, I’d know.”

You stay held in his arms, relishing in the comfort of Javier and his words. You sigh, trying to cover your yawn.

He pulls away, his brown eyes roaming over your tired features. “Go take a seat. I’ll get you a beer.”

You flop comfortably on his black leather couch, sinking into the coolness. “I’m so tired. The whole Elliott situation, along with finally starting on rehearsals–which have been insane, and the director’s a lowkey maniac.”

Javi nods as he grabs two bottles of beer and hands one to you before he settles on the couch beside you. Without a word, he gently lifts your feet onto his lap, his strong hands beginning to knead your soles.

You breathe out a long, happy sigh, taking a sip of your beer before launching into your tale of woe.

“So, it’s the same dude that directed Nomad, right? God, you wouldn’t believe this guy. He’s got us doing all of these ridiculous exercises. Today, he wanted us to 'encompass’ trees for a warmup. I stood there, silent, acting like a gentle breeze was wooshing past me for like… three minutes.”

You throw your head back against the cushion and sigh.

“How in the hell is that going to to let me understand my character better? I mean, I get it, we’re supposed to be nymphs in this production, but come on…”

He chuckles lowly as his thumbs work small circles into your arches. His eyes flick up to meet yours when you let out a small moan when he hits a particularly tender spot.

“Sounds like you need a distraction.”

“I do.”

In one fluid motion, he grabs your ankle and tugs, pulling you across the smooth leather until you're sprawled in his lap. His strong arms encircle you, one hand splayed across your lower back while the other cups your face.

His thumb brushes softly across your cheekbone.

“This distracting enough?” he whispers, his lips quirking into a small smile.

He kisses you, softly at first, then with growing urgency. Your hands thread through his hair at the nape of his neck, his hand on your back pressing you closer, molding your body to his.

He peppers kisses down to your neck, nuzzling the sharp angle of his nose against your skin.

“Stay tonight,” Javi says, his lips against your collarbone.

As if you could resist.

—-

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[judesmoonbeauty]

𝕁𝕦𝕕𝕖 𝕁𝕒𝕫𝕫𝕒'𝕤 𝕄𝕒𝕚𝕟 𝕊𝕥𝕠𝕣𝕪: ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝟙𝟚

This is a fan translation only. Please expect grammatical errors and translation inaccuracies. This is a full translation. Creative liberties are taken for characterization and smoother translation process. Cybird owns everything. Re-blogs are appreciated, but please do not post my translation elsewhere. Thank you for your support! ☾.

Victor: Have you fallen in love with Jude?

Kate: What, uh…..

Victor: Ahaha, your expressions and reaction’s are quite easy to read, it’s adorable.

Victor: So, may I ask why you’ve decided to study after falling in love?

(If I suddenly ask to borrow books on international trade and economics,)

(There’s no way the sharp-eyed Victor wouldn’t have noticed.)

I give up trying to hide and look Victor straight in the eye.

Kate: Knowledge can be a weapon. It can be a means of protection.

Kate: At first, it was just for myself. But I also want to be someone that Jude can rely on.

Kate: Someone to lean on during difficult times and sad times. I thought he’d come to like me after that.

That’s the answer to why my heart’s been acting so crazy the last few days.

Kate: But I have a feeling that I’ll be rejected for being meddlesome.

Victor: I think that sometimes meddling can save someone’s life.

Victor: It’s not the knife or poison that kills, it’s the loneliness.

His jewel-like eyes seemed to cloud for just a moment…..

Kate: ….Victor, do you ever feel lonesome?

Victor: No, I forgot about loneliness a long time ago.

Victor said with a reassuring smile.

[Transitions to the Dining Room]

Jude: Huh, what’s this?

When Jude returned from work, he saw Kate in the dining room slumped over the desk asleep, her face scrunched up…..

Victor: Oh Jude, welcome home. I just brought a blanket for Kate.

Victor: She’s worn out from studying this entire time -

Victor: Oops, anything further is a secret between Kate and I.

Jude: Don’t care, transfer this cost at the end o’ the month.

Victor: With pleasure. Then you handle this.

Jude: What?

Victor pushes the blanket into his hand and leaves with a smile.

Then Jude drops his gaze to the fast asleep Kate…..

Jude: …Tch.

Crudely covering her with the blanket, he goes to leave when something suddenly grabs his sleeve and he turns around.

Jude: ….What’re ya a baby?

Jude stares at Kate, who seized his clothing and an annoyed smile appeared.

That’s when he caught sight of the stack of books scattered on the table.

Jude: …………

What Kate’s trying to learn….for Jude’s sake.

Jude sat down next to Kate, who was still holding onto his clothes.

Jude: …….Really is hopeless.

I had begun to learn things I didn’t know before, like international trade and economics.

However, the book’s contents can occassionally be difficult -

[Transitions to Roger’s Lab]

Roger: The Navigation Act was abolished, allowing other countries ships to enter the market.

Roger: It became a race to see who could get a ship to London the fastest.

Kate: So, that’s the principle behind the Tea Race.

Alfons: It’s seem quite remarkable to think that the winning tea from that race is on this table.

I was supposed to be learning from the knowledgeable Roger.

But before I knew it, everyone was enjoying tea behind me.

Alfons: In comparison to this exquisite, mellow fragrance, all that surrounds us is the scent of smoke and blood.

Alfons: Aren’t we just enjoying our lives these days?

Liam: Ah, I thought the same thing. It’s been a bit of downer not being able to enjoy the season.

Roger: You guys. Quit chit-chatting in my lab.

As Roger expressed his tiredness, the door to the lab simultaneously burst open so hard, it was like it was going to break.

Victor: My darling Crown boys haven’t been enjoying life? That’s a SERIOUS issue!

Roger: No, you can’t just show up too!

Victor: Alright, time for Victor Presents! We’re going to hold an OUT-OF-SEASON-FIREWORKS SHOW- YAY!

Victor: I’ve already arranged to go to William’s private beach. I’m so capable!

(Fireworks, huh?)

It was a slightly unseasonable suggestion, but of course the bored crowd applauded.

Victor: Kate, I’d like to request a task of you.

(A request? What is it?)

[Transitions to Jude’s office]

The task Victor asked of me was -

Jude: If ya both wanna go that bad, then go alone.

Kate: I don’t want to go unless you go too, Jude!

The goal was to bring Jude to the fireworks show.

More precisely, to “bring along both Jude and Ellis” with me.

Ellis immediately, gleefully replied that he would go, so the only problem was Jude.

Ellis: I don’t want to go without Jude either.

Jude: How many times ya gonna say the same thin’. It’s aggrevatin’.

(I figured we’d get push back from Jude….In that case -)

Kate: Jude.

Jude: What is it?

Kate: Lulipia has approached us about selling their new products exclusively to Raven Ltd.

Kate: However, that’s on the condition that Ellis and I are in charge.

Jude lifts an eyebrow in irritation as I unleash a negotiation technique I learned in a book recently.

Jude: Pssh, what. Tryin’ to negotiate with me. How gutsy of ya.

Jude: I’ll go.

Kate: What, really….

Jude: Just thought it’s a good deal considerin’ cost-effectiveness.

Kate: Y-YES!

Ellis: As of expected of you, Kate.

(It was bit of a sneaky way to do it, but at least I’m going out with Jude!)

[Transitions to William’s Private Beach]

Fireworks explode in the sky, making the beach sparkle.

Kate: Wow….!

Elbert: …..It’s beautiful.

It’s not the season, but that doesn’t matter since the fireworks bursting in the night sky are so lovely.

Victor: Bravo! The fireworks disappear in an instant, but the memories of tonight will remain in my heart forever.

As everyone cheers as the fireworks go off in succession, colorful sparks scatter across the beach.

Liam: Kate, come here, come here!

Harrison: Here, this one’s yours.

Kate: Okay!

Just as I going to light the handheld firework I was given, Alfons smiled like he had just thought of something.

Alfons: Ah, I have a wonderful idea.

Alfons: How about the one who can keep theirs buring the longest, gets to command one thing from everyone else.

Roger: Oh, that sounds interesting.

Kate: But, it seems a bit fishy.

Ellis: Now that I think about it, Al was watching the fireworks carefully just now.

Kate: Really, Alfons! Have the fireworks already been tampered with?

Alfons: ……What’s this about now?

William: Haha, it seems the robin understands the Crown members quite a bit now.

In the end, Alfons’ scheme was discovered, the competition was called off and everyone took turns lighting their own fireworks.

(Hm? Jude….)

I found him a short distance away and ran over with some fireworks for him.

Kate: Here, Jude you do some fireworks too.

I lit the fireworks I brought and handed them to him…..

Jude: ………..

Jude silently took them and aimed the sparks at me.

Kate: Hey, don’t point those at people like you’re unaware of it!

Harrison: Wow, that guy’s a…..demon.

Roger: But Jude seems to be having fun too.

Everyone’s faces are lit up by the fleetingly beautiful fireworks.

Out of nowhere, I felt a tightness in my chest.

(Before I knew it, I’ve been included in everyone’s circle.)

The everyone that I was so afraid of.

Jude: What. Whya grinnin’?

Kate: No, it’s nothing. I just think it’s a lot of fun.

Jude: Yer a really carefree princess y-

As if to interrupt what Jude was about to say, a massive firework explodes in the sky.

The large flowers blossoming in the night took our breath away.

William: Victor asked for my advice.

Victor: For a BIG SURPRISE.

Harrison: You guys are pretty flashy…..Well, it’s pretty, though.

Kate: It’s true, it’s beautiful.

Seeing everyone’s smiling faces illuminated by the fireworks, inexplicably warms my heart…..

Liam: I’m definitely going to make the next performance a success - !

Liam suddenly shouted.

Roger: Haha, that’s some determined resolution. Nice.

Roger: I’ll collect all the cursed data from all around the world - !

Kate: Then me too.

(To stand in the same place as Jude does, and to see the same world he does.)

(To become someone Jude can rely on.)

Kate: I’m going to grow even more - !

Jude: What kinda stupid resolution’s that?

Ellis: I want to grow even more too -

Jude: Don’t get any bigger than that, yer gonna be in the way.

Kate: Jude, you’re not going shout a resolution?

Jude: Are ya stupid?

After Jude said that, he gazed at the fireworks that rose and disappeared into the deep blue sky.

I….secretly steal a glance at his profile from beside him.

(….Jude’s expression is dyed with all sorts of colors.)

Jude is like a firework.

It’s fierce, intense, and dangerous if you get too close, but no matter how hard you try to look away, you can’t.

But at the same time, maybe because I’ve been watching Jude for so long, a sense of unease is born in me.

(Just as no firework shines forever, there are times when it seems like Jude will vanish…..)

The profile of the person next to me, seems like he will suddenly disappear without a word to anyone, without leaving anything behind…..

I grabbed him tightly by the sleeve to stop him from going anywhere.

Kate: Jude, I want some ice cream.

Jude: Huh?

Ellis: I want some too.

Alfons: I concur. Then someone should go and - purchase some on our behalf.

Jude: Ah well, guess I’ll go buy it myself.

Alfons: No, no, please allow me to go.

William: Then I’ll do it.

(Huh? What? Should I being offering the same thing!?)

Kate: Oh, I’ll go buy it!

Jude: Then it’s all yers.

(Uh?)

Seeing the grin tugging the corners of his lips, I realized that I’d been setup.

Kate: - That’s such poor taste….!

Jude: Pff-

Jude: Ya truly are a gullible princess.

Kate: ……

Jude’s smile makes my heart beat so hard it hurts, and I can’t stop it.

(But I still haven’t become anything to you, Jude.)

(I hope to at least become a reason for him to smile occasionally.)

Under the sky where shimmering particles of light danced, I prayed that this fun time would continue…..even if only for a little longer.

But that time didn’t last very long.

[Main Story Master List] [Chapter 13]

If you wish to be added (and 18+ YO), or removed from my translations tag list, please let me know!

Tags: @sh0jun @theimaginativelyreticent @sapphire-323 @velisle @nateko @greatwitchsongsinger @injudescoat @aeyumicore @complexivelovely @yuoi-the-magnificent @husbandosandladders @nawlink @justgiulia @vickietickie @greedyqueensfavourite @sharigax @belphiesleftpinkytoe @reimy1164 @cosmowgyral @lunaaka @rosalyne08 @8the-perfect-lie8 @voydsoul @goustmilk @kraiyne @midnightsrunaway

[amerricanartwork]

I got so freaking excited seeing the trailer for "The Wild Robot", so naturally some fanart was in order! I didn't expect the painting to look so oily and have so many softer edges, but I still think it came out really nice and was good practice! Colored pencil really has helped me figure out a personal painting process, as here I actually used a similar layering technique as when I work in colored pencil.

Aside from that though, I haven't read the books yet (though I plan to after I see the film) but this movie looks like it's gonna hit so many of my favorite tropes and features when it comes to fiction and animated stories, including: non-human protagonists (and both of my favorite kinds, animals and robots!), stylized visuals, robot learning to be more than just their programming yet still maintaining their original robot skills and behavior to a degree, robot with emotions and unique ways of showing it, character in the wilds adapting by studying the animals, post-industrial-level technology existing in harmony with nature and the wilds rather than being portrayed as inherently harmful to nature and therefore inherently wrong to make (this is a big one for me), the odd duo, the gentle giant, a character finding belonging in an unexpected environment, just general wonder for the beauty of the wilds, and probably other things that'll come to me as I understand this story more.

But even beyond that, I just had to draw Roz because she's so freaking cute! Like, even excluding the adorable way she mimics the animals or glows when happy or how her "eyelids" give her more facial variation, in design alone she's so round and sweet looking! And somehow her being big and bulky to juxtapose her kindness with an strong and imposing stature just makes it even better! I love characters who are large and intimidating at first glance but total softies on the inside. Brightbill's definitely in good hands!

If the film holds up and Roz also has a clear and entertaining personality beyond just being curious and caring, there's a 60% chance that come September she'll become my new robot blorbo (roblorbo?), up there with C-3PO, Wall-E, and Five Pebbles!

Also, another version of the sketches from when they were just the lines for comparison!

[6okuto-moved]

i write so you know i love you

🧺 #27: "handwritten letters" with akaashi for @shobvrry :D

the first letter akaashi wrote for you was a short, anxious confession slid into your locker, folded neatly with a star sticker to keep it shut.

i just wanted to say i like you, and i’d like to take you on a date sometime if that’s okay with you. please don’t worry if you don’t feel the same way, but also please pretend you didn’t read this if so. thanks for being my friend. i’ll see you tomorrow :)

he didn’t expect to see you waiting for him after practice that day, the familiar paper in hand. with his ending request, among a dozen catastrophizing explanations stood one reasonable for your presence—

“i like you too, ’ji,” you said a little faster than practiced, heart stumbling at the sight of him.

it was sunset as you held the letter in one hand, and for the first time, keiji’s hand in the other on your way home—pink and orange ribbons of light finding a temporary home in interlocked fingers and brushing arms.

the confession is still carefully tucked away in a box of other gifts and letters you’ve received—the first in a section just from him. he could’ve easily texted at least a third of them, you pointed out once, a few days before your first anniversary, but he only shook his head. it was the romanticism of it all, and—

“what if you texted back right away? i wasn’t ready to handle that, i probably would’ve thrown up or ran away or something.”

his feelings after your first date, a request to see you after school a month after, then the letter celebrating your one month anniversary exactly 31 days later.

they built and built—words pulled from an endless well of love and poetic prose in hopes of capturing just how much you meant to him. you still like flipping through them all, on anniversaries or an otherwise insignificant thursday afternoon.

seeing the different decorations and envelopes and letter lengths throughout the years, only keiji’s handwriting remains the same throughout. it’s the same one that writes “i hope these aren’t sour,” “don’t forget your project by the printer,” “i hope you have a good day :),” and i love you, i love you, i love you.

so when your four year anniversary nears and he makes a remark about his gift, you ask “another letter for me?”

keiji stills, fingers slowing down as they flip the next page in his novel—dostoevsky, you think. his index and thumb start to pull the corner (not enough to fold, but reminiscent of what he does to the hem of his shirt when he’s nervous anyway.) “maybe?”

he fixes his posture, sitting up straighter on the couch. “is that…i know i write them a lot, huh? would you like—”

“no!” you shake your head. “no, i like the letters a lot, keiji, i promise. i just,”—you move next to him and frown—“i hope you don’t feel like you have to write them, you know? i don’t know how your hands don’t hurt a lot after. you could type them out and i’d be just as happy.”

but keiji shakes his head, and it feels a little similar to three years ago. “no, that’s not the same at all. i want to write them for you,”—he closes his book with his thumb as a bookmark, the other hand moving to hold yours—“that’s what makes them special.”

“plus formatting them digitally wouldn’t be any easier than my double-sided tape—do you want to take the joy of tape and stickers away from me?” he raises a brow and squeezes your hand in his.

you snort. “okay, you know what? fair enough.”

and keiji pours a lot of honesty, of himself, into his letters, but maybe one thing he’ll keep a secret is how often his hand cramps and red indents and cuts form on his fingers. because it’s inconsequential in the end, really nothing in comparison to the bright smile and hug you give him when he hands you the next letter a couple of weeks later, carefully folded in an envelope with a star sticker on the front.

[spookyrea]

face of gold, heart of coal (my cross to bear, baby!)

You and Loki have an agreement - just sex with absolutely no feelings. None. Nu-uh. Zero.

(Unfortunately you both signed that agreement with your fingers crossed)

Word count: ~2k

Warnings: fem reader - plot? what plot? p-i-v sex, oral (f receiving), hate sex (kind of. 'hate' if the definition of hate was 'longing so profound it makes you mad'.)

“If only our team could see you right now. Whoring yourself out to me. Your big, bad villain.”

“Not so bad,” you bit out. “You’re nothing but a lap dog.”

“Boo. Another lazy insult,” he snorted. “Big, though?”

He pulled your hand down to palm at the length of him, straining against the fabric of his trousers. You shrugged, even as your thighs clenched in anticipation. “Eh.”

Loki laughed, closing his mouth over yours in a wet kiss. “I seem to recall you singing a different song a few days ago.”

“Your memory is failing you. Dementia, maybe? That’s pretty common with men your age.”

His upper lip curled. He dropped your wrist to gather your skirt in his hands, hiking it up to your waist. “Hold this,” he commanded.

You bunched the fabric in one hand. With his hands now unoccupied, he traced the inside of your thighs slowly, tipping your hips upwards to get a better look at your clothed mound. Both of his thumbs slid over the cotton fabric of your underwear, reverently in comparison to the way he had demanded your submission. They pressed gingerly, barely pulling your folds apart before pressing them back, working in circular motions around your clit but not quite over it. His eyes were half-lidded, transfixed on the way his fingertips spread wide over your hips, on the twitch of your tense muscles, on how you gave yourself up to him angrily and willingly.

You stifled a whine, hoping he wouldn’t notice - but he did. Loki always noticed; every gasp, every lingering look, every shiver when his hand brushed over yours - he saw it all. He could read you like a book, something that both infuriated and secretly delighted you, to be seen and understood so completely. 

Loki mimicked you, scrunching his face up in a patronizing pout. One hand rose to pinch your cheeks, holding your head still while he pressed a sloppy kiss to your temple. “Oh boo hoo. Woe is me. Please, Loki, have mercy.”

You hissed, digging your knuckles into his abdomen. He laughed in response, dragging his nose across your jaw before sucking a mark under your ear. Your voice came out thready despite your best efforts, a casualty of the way his other hand was drawing figure-eights across your thigh. “You cocky bastard.”

“Careful. You speak to me like that again and I might just leave you wanting.”

“You won’t.”

He dipped his head, laving his tongue over the junction of your shoulder and throat. His thumb slid to the side, tracing the damp seat of your underwear with lazy intent. “I won’t?”

“Nope.” You swallowed another embarrassing sound when the meat of his palm ground against you with delicious friction.

“What makes you so certain?”

You tilted your head; distracted as he was by marking up your throat, his hold on your face had loosened enough for you to get your lips around the webbing between his thumb and pointer finger. You scraped your teeth over the delicate skin, delighting in how his body tensed against you. “Because you want me just as badly.”

“You’re finally right about something. Looks like you do have some coherent thoughts in that pretty little brain of yours.”

“Asshole.”

“Tsk. Try harder. I’ll make you a deal - if you call me something creative, I’ll let you come tonight.” He pulled away, his head tipped ever so slightly to the left to admire his handiwork. No doubt your lipstick was smeared across your face at this point, considering how it stained his pale skin from the tip of his nose to the sharp point at the corner of his jaw. “I warn you though, mortal, I’ve been alive for many centuries. I’ve heard it all.”

“Monster,” you tried.

“Old news.”

“Duplicitous snake.”

“Boring.”

“Evil, traitorous coward.”

“It’s starting to look like tonight will only be about me, little thing.” Loki grinned, sliding the tail of his belt through the buckle. It fell open with a clatter against his thigh as he worked the zipper of his slacks down and pushed on your free hand, urging you to take him in your fist and pump him slowly.

“Lover,” you spit.

He paused. “Excuse me?”

“I said ‘lover’.” Even without his hand guiding yours, you drew your hand back and forth in lazy tugs, arousal pooling, hot and wanting, at the way his stomach jumped, muscles visible through his open shirt. “What a pathetic god. To love a human.”

His eyes crawled down, then back up the length of your body. Slowly, achingly slowly, he slipped from your grasp and sank to his knees in front of you. “Truly debased.”

You ran your fingers through his damp curls, heavy with the humidity of want. “It’s sad, really.”

He tapped the back of your calf, shouldering your leg until you draped it over his back, and pressed a loud kiss to your lower belly. “Clever girl.”

Loki pulled your panties to the side; you would have been embarrassed by the threads of arousal clinging to them if it wasn’t for the way his expression darkened, a clear reverence rolling off of him while his thumb slid over you, pulling your folds apart to get a better look. His pretty eyes were awash with desire, burning a hot and syrupy trail as they traveled from the mess between your thighs to your face.

You smoothed a curl out of his eyes and watched him tip his head, pressing a loud kiss just beside your clit. He took his time teasing his mouth over you, alternating between licking long stripes and sliding sloppy kisses over slick, heated skin. The hand around your thigh clutched you in a bruising grip, holding you against his shoulder like you might slip away if he let go. His other hand slipped between his own legs and worked slowly up and down his cock.

You tipped your head back against the wall. “You’re enjoying this.”

His grip tightened. “Shut up.”

Loki squeezed his eyes tight, desperation clear in the way he tipped his head for a better angle. He closed his lips around your clit and sucked, pulling a thready gasp from your chest. You felt a familiar coil between your hips, winding and winding as he worked you more urgently; occasionally you felt his forearm bump against your shin while he pumped his cock in time with rolls of your hips.

You grew delirious. Your legs shook, struggling to hold you upright. You planted your hand on his shoulder for support, back bowing off the wall with the force of your impending orgasm. Loki laughed against you, the sound humming over your skin in the most delicious way. 

You found no relief in his mouth; he seemed only to wind you higher and higher but never to the edge. Your chest heaved, pleasure turning desperate and achy. You pushed on his forehead, tears welling in the corners of your eyes. “Stop. Loki, it’s not… I need…”

He paused, his mouth still pressed against you. His eyes scanned yours curiously, brimming with mischief, before he gave one final flick of his tongue. You clenched, hissing through your teeth, and squirmed away. His shoulders shook with laughter under your leg. Loki turned his cheek into your thigh and drew his wet chin across your skin, leaving an uncomfortable sticky path in his wake.

“Get -” Your order stuttered and died on your tongue when he bit down on your hip. “Get back up here.”

“So bossy.”

“You want me so bad, Laufeyson.”

“So, so badly,” he hummed mockingly.

You let him nudge his way between your legs, lining his hips up with yours to guide himself inside you. There was an initial pressure, that familiar press before your body yielded to him and he slid down to the hilt. 

He groaned once his hips met yours and, privately, you agreed. There was something electric about him, as if he had rewritten the polarity of your nerves so they yearned in his direction. He was an asshole - arrogant, stubborn, untrusting - but there was such an aching kindness in the way his fingers trailed over your skin that it left you feeling raw and oozy. 

A self-deprecating laugh hissed through his teeth when your fingers wound through the curls at the back of his skull. Very quietly, he murmured something against your skin.

“What was that?”

“I said I hate you.”

“Right.” His hips rolled against you slowly, testing you. “Come on, lover,” you goaded him on. “Fuck me like you hate me.”

He groaned. “One day you’ll let me make love to you.” 

You gasped when he thrust into you, jolting you up the wall. He set a brutal pace, tugging your body down onto him with every sharp jerk of his hips. You twined your arms around his neck for support and tried to leverage your weight against him, shifting so he was angled to bump against that soft spot inside you that made your knees buckle. The sob that ripped through you when he finally connected seemed to spur him on, working him into a frenzy.

“One day you’ll let me do this in a bed. In my bed. No, actually, in our bed. Now, tell me what you feel.” Loki punctuated the order with a kiss, though you were both moving too much to get any further than a brush of open, panting mouths.

You nodded dumbly. “It’s- it’s good. So- oh, right there. Please.”

“Yes. Beg for me.”

Annoyance turned over in your belly. You scraped your teeth along his jaw. “Asshole.”

Loki pulled your body to a sudden stop, his cock buried to the hilt deep inside of you. His head cocked menacingly to the side.

“Hmm.” He gave an experimental roll of his hips. “You’re lucky you make the most fantastic sounds when you come. And I do so very, very badly want to hear them. So sing. Praise, this time, little mortal.”

His thumb pressed meanly against your clit. Each jerk of his hips against you made you bump against the calloused skin, a delicious but not-quite satisfying pressure. 

“You want me so badly. I could have you eating out of the palm of my hand. But I’m merciful. I won’t make you do that.” Loki licked a hot stripe up the side of your throat. “I’ll just fuck you instead. Now come on.”

Your face scrunched up, hands fisting in the back of his shirt. You’d given up on stifling any sounds you made, letting broken, wanton sounds tumble from your mouth with each nudge of his thumb against your clit. Your chest ached, your breaths thready and gasping, barely sucking in air before it escaped you as a squeal or a sigh. Your thighs shook with the force of it all, body gone taut and boneless all at once.

You pulled him in as tightly as you could as you came, burying your nose in his throat, seeking some tether to ground yourself by. It was all too much - too hot, too sweaty, too bright, too good. You needed him to come. You needed him to stay. You needed, needed, needed.

Loki stumbled into his climax and stilled after a few more sloppy thrusts, winding his arms around your back to properly ensnare you. His breath licked over your skin and left goosebumps to rise in its wake.

You stayed tangled like that for an eternity, slowly winding down back to Earth in the other’s arms. Your fingers traced a shy path down his nape while his hands slid up and down your sides placatingly.

Eventually, he set you down on your feet. His hands smoothed down your skirt before tucking himself away in his slacks. Your voice was small as you watched him loop his belt back through the buckle. “I get closer and closer every day.”

“To what? First-degree murder?” He turned his face up to yours, a joking tilt to his brows. Something in your expression gave him pause, the smile melting off of him. He smoothed out the front of his slacks and then put his hand on your shoulders, leveling you with an unreadable look. “Really?”

You nodded mutely, turning your eyes to the floor. He tipped your face up to keep them trained on him.

“Ask me,” you murmured.

“Make love to me, darling.”

You paused, drawing the moment out. “Maybe. If you’re a good boy.”

He sighed, a long-suffering sound. “You vex me.”

[drenched-in-sunlight]

Hey, so I remembered in one of your earlier post you said something along the lines of souls women only really falling into the helpless victim or serious sword lady trop. And how Ema was a great subversion of it, I was wondering if you had any thoughts on

I’m making a souls-like and trying to avoid the pitfalls where I can

Btw, I love your art so much I would love to support you but I am broke

sorry i let this reply marinate in the docs for months (along with a lot of other replies like im having a catalogue of Fromsoft replies that read like thesis at this point *crying* my job is not letting me sit down and edit them) but here it is.

firstly, thank you for your message, kind encouragement already means a lot to me, so don’t worry about not being able to support me or anything ! After all I’m not putting out any new books or fan merch haha.

Here is a whole rant about Ema but somehow my grievances with how they handle Malenia's story in comparison to Messmer also pops up.

Regarding your question about Ema, I love her because of how complete her story feels and how her personal motivation and personality are written as coherently as the male characters.

She’s a war orphan who did her best to survive, learned the sword from the best swordman but with the only purpose is to kill demons. Ema saw firsthand how violence and meaningless killing did to people, so her aim can be seen as trying to offer those lost souls a mercy death, so they don’t have to suffer as a mindless demon for eternity (as in shura ending).

Yet, she's actually more interested in being a doctor & saving life and it’s not something expected of her because she’s a woman or whatnot, she chose that.

(+ she's skilled enough with the blade that it shows in her mannerism to the point Wolf, who had never seen her hold a sword, knows that she's good with one).

she was ready to kill Scuptor - someone akin to a parental figure to her, should he succumb to grief and hatred. because she loved him. not to mention she saw Tomoe - someone in a way is also her mentor, tried to take her own life, while her childhood friend Gennichiro slowly went apeshit. like that girl witnessed so many insane stuffs & they spur her to be strong & steadfast in her ideal to protect her loved ones, even when it means to lay them to rest by her own hands.

her dialogue in Shura ending "maybe i should have killed you long ago" feels like being punched in the guts to me, because she knew Wolf turning out that way meant that somewhere along the way, all of them had failed him, had ignored the signs that all the killings he was tasked to carry out was taking a toll on him. And so she took upon herself the responsibility to offer him a mercy death, even as it broke her heart.

It’s the passionate drive and decisions made as her own person, not out of blind devotion to another character, and how much we know of that because the game let us find more about her, that makes her stands out from the epic sword lady category, while the violence and steely resolve she was capable of makes her stands out from the helpless maiden one.

-kinda lose the plot here with Elden Ring rant jumping out-

This is one of the main points I have about the difference between Messmer and Malenia, how even though their stories parallel each other, I think Messmer has the better writing and gets a more complete story. He’s super devote to Marika, but in his own way, not what Marika wants of him. Evidently with how he still fights the Tarnished because he deems us unworthy, despite knowing Marika sanctioned us for Lordship.

We see a lot of sides to him outside of just a filial son, his rage and sorrow and love and a moment of stubborn selfishness that results in him willingly become a curse that clings to Marika than to let go. We see his relationship with other characters and even though his love for Marika outweighs all else, it doesn’t negate completely others that exist outside of it.

And precisely because of that, it’s more heartbreaking to see despite all these connections he has with other people, he yearns to be reunited with his Mother above all else. That kind of devotion is more hard hitting to me than the writing for the Empyrean twins.

Like, Malenia…. outside of Finnlay (whose description says more about herself than shedding any new light on Malenia) and the mentor that we actually don’t even know much about yet, what are other personal connection she has outside of Miq? I could argue the Marika’s Soreseal in the Haligtree was meant for her and that she still loved her Mother in some kind of way all I want, but at the end of the day that’s a headcahon I have to theorize from item placement, and not many ppl will notice that. We don’t know for sure what Malenia thinks of anyone else but her twin and it drives me up the wall.

Another comparison I want to bring up is DS2 Lucatiel.

I fr think even Lucatiel gets a better story arc than Malenia, despite also largely being shaped by her relationship with her brother.

Loss frightens me no end. Loss of memory, loss of self. If I were told that by killing you, I would be freed of this curse… Then I would draw my sword without hesitation. I don't want to die, I want to exist. I would sacrifice anything, anything at all for this. It shames me, but it is the truth. Sometimes, I feel obsessed… with this insignificant thing called "self". But even so, I am compelled to preserve it. Am I wrong to feel so? Surely you'd do the same, in my shoes?

She is trying to find her brother, but at the same time wrestling with her own troubles and limitations. We get to know a lot of her own motivation and her fear. I mean one could argue that it's because she's an NPC while Malenia is a boss, but the same thing could also be said for Messmer like I explained above.

-back to Ema-

As the extra sauce, I love that Ema boss music has such layers to it. the theme of her - someone clinging to her humanity to the very end because she has ppl love & support her, also acts as an elegy for Wolf's lost of humanity, of him not being able to escape the abuse trauma he grew up in. its opening instrument also appears in Demon of Hatred's OST. Her presence and theme affects other characters’ life, and we get to see her marks on a personal level in the story’s overarching narrative.

Which is the same as how Marika’s presence is everywhere in the Elden Ring OST, that little soft piano. A little in Radagon’s theme, in Shaman’s Village, in the final DLC boss ost where the female vocals starts belting out “Hail, Marika the Eternal”, in a boss arena where she had walked through to scavenge the remains of her fallen family and ascended to an existence she knew would kill her all the same, but she would do it again every single time. Walking down that hell with her eyes wide open.

When a character that could get me to write paragraphs about like that… man you know how much the writing cooks.

[pit-and-the-pen]

Spring Meadow

I have not been able to get soft Lucien out of my head all morning so heres a super fluffy fic about our boy being absolutely in love with you.

Lucien X Spring court!reader

Lucien deserves the absolute world, boy has been through enough. 

Warnings: None

WC: 1.6k

Lucien never regretted his decision to come to the spring court. The cruelty of the Autumn court gave way to something sweeter. Autumn always reminded him of death. He saw it in the trees that constantly shed their leaves, in the terror of everyone in the court. Worst of all, he saw it in his brothers. Fear seemed to permeate the air wherever you went and his family wore it the most. Cloaked in gripping fear of their own father. When he arrived in spring, it was like he could breathe for the first time in his life. Flowers bloomed and birds sang cheerful songs. The lords and ladies of the court would smile at each other as they passed. Spring reminded him that he wanted to be alive. 

Of course, he also had you. He had never intended to fall in love. Heart still in tatters over Jesminda, love was the last thing on his mind. But there you were. One of the ladies of Tamlins court. He found you in the meadow he frequently hid away in. Weaving flowers into a makeshift crown, basking in the first few hours of sunlight as it crested the horizon. The willow wisps seemed to sing a special song just for you. 

He can still feel the shock run through him, blinking hard as if he might wake up from a dream. Lucien decided that if it was a dream, he would happily never wake up. You startled as he cleared his throat. Hands pausing your work as he introduced himself. He swore he felt his heart stop dead when you smiled at him, giving him your name. 

That’s when it all started. It wasn’t an all consuming fire but a slow ember that he nursed into something roaring. You were patient with him as he figured out how to let his guard down. A comforting shoulder when days got too heavy for him to get out of bed. Those were days you would curl up next to him, hands deftly braiding his hair or reading him one of your favorite books. Those were the days that Lucien knew he was falling in love with you. 

Today was one of those days. You managed to pull him out of bed and the two of you stood in the kitchen. Flour streaked across your face as you kneaded the dough ball in front of you. Giving it a small smack, you put it in the bowl next to you and draped a wet towel over it. 

“There, I have an hour before I can bake it.” You washed off your hands and walked over to where Lucien sat on a stool at the counter. You patted his thighs and he parted them enough for you to squeeze yourself between them. With care, you wrapped your arms around his neck and gave him a peck on the cheek. “What would you like to do today, Lu?” He wanted nothing more than to just crawl back into bed. Hold you in his arms until his thoughts could do anything but swirl around angrily in his head. But you had told him you wanted to get out of the house today so he instead said. 

“What about a picnic in the meadow?” He suggested. He wished he could bottle that look in your eyes, pure wonder and excitement. 

“Absolutely. Once the bread is done I’ll make us sandwiches. Oh and I’ll cut up some of that fruit from last night.” You chirped. He gave you another tight squeeze as you started gathering all the things you needed to bring. Lucien sat and stared at you. His heart squeezing in the best way possible. He pushed himself off the stool and went to your side, helping you pull out the fruit sent from the summer court. You instructed him on how to peel and chop the chosen fruit. His rough chunks were almost laughable in comparison to the shapes you cut into the fruit. He never understood how you made the various patterns you were able to cut them into, deftly cutting hearts and flowers. He helped you string them onto wooden skewers and squeezed the lemon juice on them so they wouldn’t brown, a trick you had taught him the last time you went on a picnic. You wrapped them up in a small towel and he went to grab your wicker basket from your room. 

Even your room made him smile. Organized chaos as you called it. Flowers covered as many surfaces as they could. You had used your powers to make honeysuckle creep up the walls, covering the wall by the window and swirling up to the ceiling. The white blooms fill the room with their sweet scent. He used to complain about the pollen dropping over everything but he learned to appreciate it over time. He even went as far as cleaning it up on days you were too busy to do it yourself. You always thanked him by peppering his face with small kisses when he did. 

He quickly located the basket he had been sent to find. He also grabbed one of your favorite blankets and the book you had been slowly reading to him. Both of you could have easily finished it on your own by now but he loved listening to your voice as you read it out loud, your voice wrapping around the words brought the story to life. 

When he walked back into the kitchen, you were bent towards the oven, pushing in the bread pan. Standing back up, you adjusted the top to your flowy sundress and untied the now dirty apron from your waist. You smiled at him as he held up the basket like it was a trophy. He was rewarded by the peel of your laughter. He wanted to wrap himself in the sound so he did just that, practically sprinting across the kitchen to embrace you. Hugging you so tightly he lifted you off the ground. He was rewarded with another string of giggles and when he sat you back on your feet your cheeks had a glowing blush to them. You stretched up onto your tiptoes and kissed him passionately. 

He let out a surprised noise as your teeth found his lower lip. You smiled into the kiss as he swept you off your feet, placing you on the kitchen counter so he wouldn’t have to bend down. Your hands found their way to his hair and the two of you got lost in each other. Eventually, you both need to pull away for air. Your chest was heaving as you tried to catch your breath and he tried to ignore the way your tongue swept over your lips before he was tempted to forgo the picnic and drag you to bed for other reasons. 

He joined you, pulling himself up onto the counter. So close to you his thighs were pressed against yours. You picked up his hand and started drawing random patterns and swirls. The conversation flowed easily out of the two of you while you were waiting for the bread to finish baking. Its smell filled the room and made his stomach grumble. Luckily, before he could even think of making a joke about his stomach eating itself, the timer you had set dinged loudly. You grabbed a dish towel and pulled the perfect loaf from the oven. After letting it cool for a few minutes, you started assembling the sandwiches, cutting them into perfect triangles. Wrapping them in their own towel and adding them to the basket. You looked up at him, “All ready to go!” 

You all but pulled him to the meadow, a childlike sort of excitement as you babbled on about the newest gossip in the court. He didn’t really follow your words too much, too many names he didn’t recognize, but he held to every word you uttered. Savoring the sound of your voice. 

When you finally decided on a spot, he laid out the blanket on the dew covered grass. You sat crossed legged in the middle and started unpacking the basket. 

After the food was eaten, you laid down, arms holding your top half off the ground. Lucien placed his head on your thighs using you as his personal pillow and handed you the book before you could even reach for it. That action earned him a kiss to his forehead, your hair draping around him as you leaned down. You flipped to the page you had left off on the night before. 

Sitting out in this field, your free hand playing absentmindedly with his hair. Lucien knew that this was true happiness. Happiness that he had never felt before meeting you. Happiness he was terrified of losing but allowed himself to feel anyways. He would go to the ends of the earth to protect you and he knows you would do the same for him. His emotions suddenly welled up inside of his chest and he lifted his head off your lap. Your reading stopped as you went to ask him what was wrong, reading the tears in his eyes as something other than pure joy. He spoke before you could. 

“Can we stay like this forever.” He said, leaning closer into you. You kissed him, soft and gentle. 

“Of course my love.” You cuddled tighter to his side and pulled him into a deep kiss. He rolled you on top of him, and you pulled away to say, “We can stay like this for as long as you want.”