#I still CANNOT believe that sitting is restful for some people. I sit whenever I can at work but it's still so exhausting

[revvetha]

really struggling with work atm. not in the sense that I have a lot to do or it's stressful or my colleagues suck. It's just having to somehow go a full 9h without laying down that really gets me.

[shotmrmiller]

in which johnny gifts the love of his life a sex toy outta nowhere

when you mumble into the phone that you miss him, johnny, he pauses for a second, then tells you he's going to bring you a gift back home. "to keep ye company, hen." after, he locks himself in a bathroom stall and watches you play with yourself until you both come.

but you'd thought he'd bring you a pet. a live animal that needs a cage to be brought across the world, not a long, slim unmarked box.

it's a sex toy. and it's rather large, at that. your hand wraps around the base, fingertips still a good inch apart.

"and i'm supposed to be using that?" his arms wrap around your waist, his thick stubble grazing the sensitive skin of your neck, raising goose flesh.

"don't like it? only had ye in mind, hen." he presses a wet kiss on your fluttering pulse. you've never really talked about toys in your relationship. you don't need them, of course, and johnny more than makes up for the time lost between you two whenever he's home but this?

"i don't know," you mumble. "a bullet would've made more sense, i think. at most a rose." his hands run up your sides, to the swell of your breasts and give you a gentle squeeze. he doesn't believe the tripe of people valuing size over all else, does he? the thing is easily as thick as your forearm and it's corded with veins. and it's uncut. whoever is making these are going to extreme lengths to make it as realistic as possible.

he bucks his hips, prominent bulge in his jeans coming to rest in the small of your back. of course he'd get excited. menace.

"ye willnae have t'use it alone now tha' i'm here. 'sides, i think ye'd look perfect with my pretty kitty stretched thin around it." johnny grabs your hips firmly, creating small divots as his grip tightens. "maybe i'll watch ye fuck yerself on it, hm? lap at yer clit while ye do." liquid heat pools in your belly, pulsing hot between your legs.

he really wants you to use it, given by his ragged breathing and he rutting himself against you. fine. "okay. just, not right now, yeah? i want only you in me." his eyes burn fluorescent as he nods, his large hand cradling your head as he pulls you in for a kiss.

you missed this. the sweet sting of his cock sliding home in your aching cunt, the sharp pinch below your navel when his tip comes to sit snugly against the plug of your womb. you've missed this. missed him.

maybe he'll forget all about that monstrosity sitting in the box.

-

he doesn't. he's bringing it up hours later, his spend still dripping warm on your thighs. johnny cannot be serious.

"course i am, hen." his fingers sweep at the hair stuck to your sweat-slick forehead. "is it a crime to want to see ye split open on some- something else?"

you think nothing of his stutter. "alright," you groan. if that's what he wants. it'll be interesting to see just how much you can take. you'll never tell him that your pussy clenched around nothing at the thought, his cum trickling out faster, pooling on the sheets.

-

it's not warm. the tip of it presses against your swollen entrance, cold in contrast to your heated flesh. johnny watches you swallow a gasp, your trembling hands reaching for his as you slide down an inch, two, three. johnny's cum is wonderful lube, but the searing burn- the size of toy is overwhelming, your walls being wrenched apart as you glide down further. johnny presses a prickly kiss on your cheek, cooing in your ear all the while his clever fingers draw gentle circles on your clit. "focus on breathin', bonnie. yer tensin' up."

desire begins to bubble beneath your skin, pleasure causing your muscles to warm and slacken, and after a long couple of minutes, you find yourself at the base.

but then johnny grabs your hips from behind and pulls- oh. "that's it." if you'd thought the toy had originally been in your stomach, it's now in your throat. "pretty as a peach, hen. jus' wha' i wanted to see." a shiver dances up your spine, notches trembling as you get used to the unforgiving stretch of the toy. his breath warms the side of your neck. "on yer go."

you come around it no less than three times, leaving it milky and johnny cleans it up with his mouth before he cleans you up.

-

the girth of it is something you'll never get used to but it does get easier. when johnny goes back to work, he tells you that all he asks for are videos of you using it. for his collection, he greedily says.

you send him as many as you can, no matter the hours. just a quick nsfw text before getting his thumbs up and away it goes. it's incredibly fun. the relationship hadn't been dull by any means, but this just feels invigorating. you feel rejuvenated. that johnny is your biggest cheerleader while using it is such a bonus.

you oughta marry him. maybe you'll elope the next time he's home. but when the next time comes, johnny calls you instead of messaging you the usual be home soon text.

and it sends you reeling.

bonnie. the toy treat ye well while i was gone?

no better than you could me, but yeah. i'm still sore from using it in the last video i sent you.

that's great. if ye like the toy then ye'll love the real thing, i ken. we'll be there in 10.

[thevirtualvalentine]

004. ONE PIECE, CAPTAIN KOBY.

content warnings: afab!fem!reader, virgin!koby but it’s not vital to the plot, riding, top!reader, unprotected sex (wrap it up), cheesy “trapped in a small room” smut troupe, penetrative sex, dry humping, sex with feelings, “good boy” is used twice.

plot: your regular patient, Captain Koby, visits your office but you’re both thrown in a small broom closet during an evacuation drill! He may or may not have a crush on you and your dubious positioning on top of him will send him over the edge.

Captain Koby wouldn’t call himself a hypochondriac, but he cannot keep himself from waltzing into the nurses station on some bullshit excuse to see his favorite nurse. He’s just one of many of your admirers, and he’s more than aware of the fierce competition for your attention. While he doesn’t believe rank means anything in the grand scheme of winning your affections, one quick use of his haki has basic cadets running so he can spend alone time with you.

“And what is it this time Captain?” You whip around in your seat when he sheepishly says hello, scratching the back of his neck. You greet him with a sweet smile as he shuffles in.

“Uhhh, heart burn, yeah terrible terrible heart burn. Think you have anything for me?” He knows he’s full of shit, but it’s worth the effort anyway if he gets to see you. His cheeks tinted just as pink as his hair, you’re pretty much the only good thing left on this base and that’s why he can never bring himself to leave until Garp makes him hull ass on another adventure. The way you smile at him so sweetly whenever he speaks makes his heart flutter almost uncomfortably fast in his chest, maybe he does have heart burn…

“At your age? You’re too fit to be bogged down by all these health problems Captain.” He likes the way it sounds when you say his title, it just rolls off your tongue better than anyone else’s.

He’s quick to think of another excuse, “but what if it’s something serious!” You laugh as he sits down on your medical table removing his captains jacket. You pull down your skimpy nurses uniform before walking over to him with his chart on your clipboard, “I just wanna make sure.”

He wins another smile from you as you stand in front of him to check his vitals. You of course note how hot his face is and how he nervously twiddles his thumbs back and forth. He’s cute, too cute. Coming to your office week after week with a bosh excuse.

Koby loves the feeling of your hands on him, how delicate your finger tips skim over his shoulders and face. Of course it’s all professional, but who is he to complain? The scent of your haircare products and vanilla hovering in the air as you walk circles around him. It’s almost like a familiar routine between you two, he comes into bother you and you almost enable his deep-seated crush by not kicking him out flat on his ass.

“Well, no signs of any lingering symptoms Captain Koby, just a fast heart rate.” You shift your weight to one hip, letting your clipboard rest against your waist, his eyes following the curve of your body. “You’re good to go, will I see you next week?” Letting your red pen rest against your bottom lip you ask just to mess around with him a bit. He gets so flustered trying to find the right thing to say and you enjoy watching him gesture nervously as word vomit spews forth.

The line outside your waiting room has gotten exceptionally long during his stay and you don’t mean to rush him out, but, you do have a job to do. One cute little captain isn’t enough to distract you from your goals of helping people. “Next!” You call out down the hallway as he pulls his jacket back on.

The emergency evacuation lights start flickering before the long winded siren accompanies it. There must be some sort of drill as the overhead PA comes on. “Attention! All hands report to the dock. This is an emergency evacuation drill.” It’s been a few months since the last one, but still the obnoxious flickering and blaring alarms make your head reel in agony.

“Come with me, I’ll take you to the dock.” It’s Koby, he’s gesturing his hand forward for you to take as soldiers pour out into the hallways, he wouldn’t want you to get trampled over as thousands of people make their way outside. He’s always been sweet like this, a real gentleman.

His grip is strong and protective, yet gentle and nervous as he takes your hand in his. You’re placed in front of him while he clears the way for you both to pass through, that is until you’re both shoved into an open door connected to the long hallway.

Koby swaddles you into his chest to protect you from falling and the door is slammed shut in the process. You doubt you’d be able to get it open with the amount of people still passing through for at least a good ten minutes.

“Well shit, oh Captain Koby are you ok?” You hear groans beneath you and remember why your fall wasn’t nearly as painful as it could have been. There’s no light in the room and it’s rather cramped, barely any space to extend your limbs as you’re trapped on top of him. You push your hands against what feels like his chest while you try to look for a light, however you only find an oil lamp on a crate. You assume this was an area where people would come to smoke during work hours.

“I’m fine, are you ok? Does anything hurt miss y/n?” The concern in his tone his evident, his hands come to cup your face as he examines for any scratches or bruises. He’d never forgive himself if you were hurt on his accord.

“Hey isn’t that my job, I’m fine Captain thank you.” It finally sets in for him how he’s touching you so intimately and the precarious position you’re left in, sitting on top of him with knees on either sides of his hips.

It’s a view he only imagines late at night when it’s just him and his hand, maybe some lotion if he’s lucky to not wake Helmeppo. The lamp illuminates his flustered face as he tries his best to slide out from under you, apologizing profusely and almost knocking you in the face while flailing around.

“Koby,” you say trying to calm him down but he’s visibly panicking and you feel him stiffening under you with each passing second. While he’s been moving like a lune, you’re still on top of him; dress rising above your thighs as your clothed pussy sits above his cock, he doesn’t mean to but it’s rubbing your clit so pleasantly. “Koby, it’s ok, I’m not mad.”

“W-what—” his glasses that are typically resting on his head now lay on his nose. It’s amusing watching a Captain of the marines so discombobulated.

“I said, it’s ok, I’m not mad.” You push his glasses up his face to get a better look at all of him, he’s rock hard and only getting stiffer. “In fact, I’m flattered.”

You lean forward letting your lips rest against his parted ones, looking in his eyes for any sort of hesitation— but that doesn’t last. A hand flies to your curls as he pulls you forward by the hip, you knew he liked you but you didn’t know just how much. His kisses are inexperienced and starved, like he’s been waiting his whole life to have this exact moment with you.

Kobys trying not to bust in his pants at this ‘unfortunate’ situation he’s been dropped into. Not only does he get to be alone with you, he’s quite literally living his fantasy and you want him just as bad. He’s praying his inexperience doesn’t show but he wants to taste you so bad he’ll risk it all.

“Shirt off,” you command, it’s too stuffy for all these layers. Unzipping the top half of your uniform lets your breasts spill out, soft skin illuminated by the glow of the small lamp. He obeys without any sort hesitation, “you listen well Captain.”

The tips of his ears turn pink when you comment on his lack of reluctance, kissing his cheeks and then down the column of his neck as his baited breaths fill the small space.

He’s so pale you’re worried hickies will get him in trouble with Garp but he’s squirming under you as your lips make contact with his neck. He’s tugging on your clothes so needily as if to say, ‘harder please, I can take it,’ and goodness do you want to give it to him. What the hell, that jacket should cover it up.

He sighs pleasurably as you work on him, hissing when you scratch at his unmarred skin. His palms grab the globes of your ass as he rocks your pussy against his dick. He’s panting with his head rolled back too lost in the pleasure. “You wanna fuck me captain? That why you come to my office every week.”

He merely moans, eyebrows pinching together in concentration. The fabric of his pants rub against your clit so deliciously, dry fucking one of the navy’s top officers during a drill wasn’t in your plans today but holy fuck did it ignite something in you.

You kiss him again, slower this time, letting your hips drag harshly against his bulge just to tease him. Tongue creeping against his in a fight to slow the pace before he cums in his pants.

“Want you to fuck me Captain, please, I’ll make you feel good,” you half moan, tugging the hair at the base of his neck. If the devil was whispering in his ear right now, he’d let you take him. He trembles feeling need surge through him like a wave, all at once he needs to bury his dick in you to the hilt.

One problem, he’s never had sex before. The way your body rolls on top of his makes his mind hazy, forgetting all about the drill going on outside. “Not enough space,” he huffs, “just fuck me, I’m yours.” Quick on his feet, not missing a beat.

Now it’s your turn to swoon. He looks so honest when he says it, hearts in his eyes as he holds your hips; squeezing against your skin reassuringly.

Sitting back on his knees you pull your dress over your head, slipping your panties off as the lantern illuminates your curves in a soft glow. Koby watches enamored, forgetting that this is the part where he’s supposed to whip his dick out.

“Am I gonna hurt you? I didn’t touch you or anything.” He’s trying to not just reach out and grab you, in his deepest fantasies he gets to drill you in missionary while you call out his name. However, he knows stretching you open is an important aspect of sex (according to his books).

“You’re sweet, but we’ve gotta be quick.” Hovering over his length you use your own slick to lube his dick up before you’re trying to slink down it. He’s pretty average in length with a slight allowance in girth, and yes the curtains match the drapes.

The burn stings before it fades out into pleasure. “Oh fuck fuck fuck, that feels so good,” he whines, gripping your thighs with uncanny strength that’ll surely leave bruises. You wrap your arms around his neck as your cunt tries to swallow him, softly sighing as he fits you like a puzzle piece. Down and down you go on his thick shaft.

He almost doesn’t know what to do with himself, you sucking him in threatens to make drool spill down his chin. Never in his life did he think something warm and yet simultaneously wet could make his toes curl like this. “S’tight, keep going please.” You’re leaned over his shoulder as you try to catch your breath, ignoring the sounds of footsteps outside as you start to slowly bounce on Captain Kobys cock.

“Makin’ me feel so full already,” you whisper into his ear, digging your nails into his shoulders as you clench around his girth. The tip of his cock’s bullying your cervix with each bounce of your hips. The sound of your ass meeting his lap melds with his whines as he tries to get ahold of himself. Your pussy’s just too good.

“Ah— oh, fuck! Faster faster,” his voice sounds so vulnerable as your gummy walls squeeze him in, he hasn’t moved his hands from strangling your waist. Pushing you down further and further each time you chase his base.

It’s all so good; your hot breath, your moans for him to fuck you deeper, the way you’re holding onto him like you need him. He’s utterly melting, succumbing for some tight cunt. Maybe those navy stories he heard weren’t full of shit.

Koby’s chasing his orgasm, using your body as a toy subconsciously. Your ass in his hands as he spreads your cheeks, forcing himself in your heat that scorches him in a way he can’t get enough of. “So good Captain, don’t stop. I could cum on you just like this,” you say pushing him back against the wall. It’s so desperate and raw, his mouth chases yours in a hot kiss as your hands tangle in his hair.

He moans like a little slut each time his tresses are wrapped around your fingers, saliva connecting his mouth to yours. The fucked out look on his face is priceless. “So handsome, what a good boy you are.” Wiping excess drool that threatens to spill past the corner of his lip as he looks like he’s about to cry. His hips jumping to meet yours as that phrase leaves your mouth.

“Oh you like that?” Such a useful piece of information, “then be a good boy and cum for me.”

The whimper that leaves his throat is guttural, high pitched as it rips through the air. His strong arms work double time to slam you down over and over again like a machine. He finishes inside you as he clutches you to his chest, keeping himself tucked inside your cunny while his cock twitches n coats your walls white.

“So good Koby, jus like that baby.” You’re rolling your hips on his, trying to milk out anything remaining as he gasps from the stimulation.

“Oh no wait, what about you? I’m so sorry—” he doesn’t even let himself pull out of you before he’s speaking a thousand miles a minute. No worries, you have an idea for that.

You both get dressed as you hear the crowds returning, helping him zip up his jacket to cover the already bruising areas of his neck. Koby pulls your dress down over your ass and then some, like he’s your protective boyfriend or something, you just roll your eyes.

Stepping out into the hallway in a sea of people you hold his hand as he walks behind you, slipping into the crowd unnoticed. You forgot to smooth his hair out so he looks like he’s just slept in some crazy position, oops. He’s got this love drunk look on his face as you lead him back to your office and shut the door. Hearts buzzing around him as he follows you, not even an arrow from Cupid could replicate that look. You get some stares here and there, but your cunts throbbing for more so you couldn’t care less.

You place your “Be back soon <3! “ sign on the handle before turning around to find him sitting on your patients table, looking a bit too eager for round two.

“Now Captain, finish what you started. Nurses orders.”

[sweatervest-obsessed]

Wasteland, Baby

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

WC: 3.4k

TW: Mentions of Murders, mentions of suicide, discussion of suicide, trauma, emotional turmoil, death, arguing, abandonment issues, commitment issues, Angst, some fluff

A/N: Thanks for bearing with me as I try to get off the struggle bus y'all. here is the highly anticipated part 2 of Stick Season !

All the fear and the fire of the end of the world Happens each time a boy falls in love with a girl Happens great, happens sweet Happily, I'm unfazed here, too

It had been three years since you left the BAU and you had just turned down a job at the FBI from Erin Strauss. You never heard from her again. 

But you did attend her funeral in D.C a week later.

You didn’t alert any of the BAU that you were returning for her funeral, since you could only imagine the pain they were feeling. 

The plane ride was filled with thoughts of what life would have been like if you had rejoined the FBI. Maybe she wouldn't have died. Maybe she’d still be calling you and sending you email after email with job offers. 

You had quickly stopped by the wake, the day before, to pay your respects, and give Strauss’ family your deepest condolences. It was painful, seeing someone you spoke to last week, stiff, lifeless, in a coffin where they will be for the rest of time. 

But the worst part was the burial. 

Blending in at a funeral has never been a strong suit of the BAU’s, except for you. You were calm, respectful, and blended in with the rest of the spectators. 

Until you looked across the circle and saw Aaron Hotchner looking directly at you. Whatever he had been feeling before, was quickly wiped away when you looked back at him, confirming his suspicions that you were here, in the graveyard. The look on his face was replaced with a more somber one as he redirected his attention back to the priest, but you knew you would be unable to just leave now that you had been spotted. 

Once she had been lowered into the ground, Hotch made his way towards you, catching his colleges interested. Where was he going? Who was he looking for?

“Y/n.” 

You smiled at him. It didn’t reach your eyes, but it wasn;t fake either. 

“It’s good to see you Hotch.” 

“I didn’t know you were going to be here today.” 

You nodded and looked over as the rest of the people migrated towards their cars to go to the reception afterwards. “I didn’t make it public information, considering I was planning on leaving after the ceremony. I’m just here to pay my respects Hotch.” 

“She called you.” 

“Yes she did.” 

“And she said you turned it down.” 

“I did.”

“Why.” 

“Hotch, please.” 

He took your elbow and pulled you away from the people, giving the two of you some semblance of privacy. 

“Will you at least think about it?” 

“What is there to think about Hotch? I don’t want to—” 

“I wish you wouldn’t lie to me. I know you miss it Y/n. I’m not just some colleague, and you know that.” 

You closed your eyes and pinched your brow. You knew coming to this funeral was a mistake. But some part of you, one that you had silenced for a very long time, was starting to break through. 

“We can talk later.” 

Wasteland, baby I'm in love, I'm in love with you

“I cannot believe you’re going back.” 

You sighed and continued to pack up everything you owned into boxes. You had only broken down the ones from a few years ago–that same part of you had saved them for whenever you had recognized you were ready to be back in Washington D.C. 

“Don’t ignore me. I thought you were done with hunting bad guys and certain doctors with glasses.” 

You slammed your hands on the table, causing Lucille to jump. 

“Sorry.” You muttered and slowly sunk to the ground, deciding it was just easier to sit on the ground and have a breakdown rather than talk it out. 

“I’m not going back for him…I’m going back for me. This…” You ran a hand through your hair. “This is n’t what I was meant to do, Luce. I’m not a teacher. I’m okay at it, but…I was meant to be in the field. Teaching is challenging, but not in the way I need. And fuck, I love my kids, you know that I do, but it’s just…”

“It’s not who you are.” She came and sat down next to you, taking your hand in hers. “I’m gonna miss you asshole.” 

You rested your head on her shoulder and squeezed her hand. “I’m going to miss you so much.” You whispered back to her. 

“You have to visit me. I’ll get lonely up here.” 

A smile spread across your face as a tear slowly tracked down your cheek. “ You have my permission to hunt me down and beat the shit out of me if I don’t.” 

“Oh don’t worry, I will.” 

All the things yet to come are the things that have passed Like the holding of hands, like the breaking of glass Like the bonfire that burns That all words in the fight fell to

Your desk stayed pretty empty for the first two weeks you were back—like you were terrified that if you got too comfortable, life would pull the rug right out from under you again and you’d have to leave. 

It was Garcia who first noticed this, watching as you’d pack everything up into your tote bag each night before you would go home. She didn’t say anything about it though, since you were not the same girl the BAU had grown to know. 

You were different, quieter. You spoke when you had something to add, or to correct somebody, but you never participated in the banter; you never stayed longer than absolutely necessary. If the group had decided to surprise you at your new apartment, they would find it covered in boxes—walls bare, fridge almost empty, only essentials like clothes and toothbrush unpacked. 

But you had never been better. Hotch had you start consulting side cases when you came back, a way to get you used to the routine of being back in the office, back in the FBI. You would consult up to three new cases a day, still helping with those that would call back a day or week later for updates or more help. They watched as you easily solved things in minutes, that might have taken the team hours. 

The first time Morgan called you ‘Girl Genius’ to your face, you punched him in the arm (admittedly a bit harshly). But he wasn’t wrong. You could feel the continuous excitement flowing through your veins; your muscles flexing as you settled back into the thing you were the best at. 

You were different, but better. 

Spencer noticed this too. He watched as you confidently answered every question thrown at you. He watched as you consulted on cases and noticed patterns he had missed. 

Spencer had missed you, badly. He knew he fucked up when he had left that night, needed to go and he spend the night away, thinking about his life; his future. Panic had flooded his body at the thought of you being the one forced to take care of him, forced to deal with his shit history and addictive personality and his annoying ass rambles. He didn’t want to subject you to that. 

But then he remembered the look on your face—the pure excitement and adoration at the thought of being able to spend every single minute of your life calling him yours. And once the panic had subsided, he felt that same joy. 

When he got back to the house, you weren’t there. 

You weren’t at work either. 

You had just vanished, and about a day later, all of your things had disappeared too. 

And Spencer was a fucking wreck. He was useless at work, and he spent so much time trying to find you, but Penelope wasn’t able to find a thing, and by the time she did, it had been months later, and you clearly didn’t want to be found. 

Wasteland, baby I'm in love, I'm in love with you

It didn’t help that seeing you again in Vermont made him want to melt on the spot. A great deal of relief washed over him, seeing you were alive and in front of him. But then he felt the anger rise in him. You had abandoned him, you had just disappeared without a second thought. 

Then he remembered the look on your face when he panicked about marrying you.

You had thought he didn’t want to marry you. 

You had no idea that he felt like he was the the problem, and if he told you know, it would just sound like a fucking excuse. 

Watching you walk back into the bullpen and set up at your desk was another slap in the face. It feels like nobody tells him anything, because they don’t. But then he realized that only Hotch knew about it because everyone froze on the spot seeing you sitting at your desk, working. 

At his desk, he would just watch you. On the plane, he would watch you. And he tried so hard to be nonchalant about it, but he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. Your hair, your legs, your arms, your lips—he wanted to take your hand and never let you go, fusing your skin together so he could be with you always. 

He was in love with you. And he thought you would rather die than be seen with him again. 

If only he knew that you felt the same way—you loved him right back. 

And that day that we'll watch the death of the sun To the cloud and the cold and those jeans you have on And you'll gaze unafraid as they sob from the city roofs

After about three months, infinite pining, a few longing glances passed to one another, and incessant whining from Derek Morgan, you and Spencer Reid found yourselves together at coffee one morning. 

After about a month later, you found yourself back in his apartment, lips grazing his, not being able to tell where his body ended and yours started. 

Then, the next day, he told you he loved you. 

He didn’t see you for a whole week afterwards. 

But when he walked into work that monday, and you were sitting at your desk, completely unbothered, he took it upon himself to make you talk to him. 

No one else was around, except for Hotch. But his office door was closed, and Morgan wouldn’t be around for another ten minutes anyways. 

“Where the fuck have you been?” 

You turned around in your chair and glared at him. “Excuse me?” 

“You disappeared for a week, no word about where you were going, not even telling me you were leaving.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Not now Spence.” 

“I love you.” 

“What?” 

“I still love you.” 

Your jaw dropped. “Spencer…” 

“I’m dead serious Y/n. When you weren’t here after you spent the night, I lost my fucking mind. I thought I had lost you—again. And I wasn’t about to go through that again. I had fucked up once before and I—I thought you had realized you didn’t want to be with me anymore and you had left again.” 

You were silent as he rambled on. 

“When you left three years ago, I lost my fucking mind. I sat here, staring at your desk hoping you would materialize out of thin air just so that I could apologize to you. And then when you didn’t show up, I begged Penelope to tell me where you had run off to, so I could go and find you and beg for you to listen to me while I got on my hands and knees to beg for your forgiveness. You thought I didn’t want to marry you, but I was terrified because I thought you wouldn’t want to marry me. I mean I had just gotten sober, and I thought we were doing so well and then you brought up marriage and all I could think about was how it was another way for you to find out how much you could hate me and get sick of me since—” 

You had finally snapped out the shock you were feeling and placed your hand over his mouth. “Breathe.” 

Spencer shoved your hand off his mouth, but stayed silent, taking an over exaggerated breath to prove to you he did. 

“We can talk about this later.” 

“No.” Spencer shook his head. “We’re going to talk about this now. I want to talk about this now.” 

“Spencer…” 

“How do I know that you’re not going to just pack up and disappear again.” 

“Spencer seriously? I don’t—-”

“You don’t do that? Because we both know you do. You’ve done it twice now.”

“What do you want me to say Spence?” 

“That you still love me.” His voice was low, but his eyes were locked in on yours. “I need to know if you still love me.” 

Wasteland, baby I'm in love, I'm in love with you

The Next Week

Another Day, Another Psychopath Killer. 

Another way for you to throw yourself into the line of fire because you have always had a soft spot for teenagers. 

Someone was targeting suicidal teens, convincing them to end their own lives, merely making him complicit in their deaths. It had sent you (and JJ) reeling. Both of you had lost someone to suicide, and watching as this person preyed on vulnerable kids who deserved to live and be loved took a lot out of the both of you. 

You had a bad feeling about this case when it was first passed onto your desk, but it just got worse and worse as the week went on. If only you had figured out who it was sooner, you might have been able to save this one girl’s life. But sometimes life refuses to relent. 

The jet was silent on the way back, none of you wanting to speak and break the silence. 

Spencer sat next to you on the couch, offering a comforting presence, and nothing else. He knew you (and it bugged the shit out of you). Years of being with one another meant that he knew when you were upset, and he knew that you despised being touched while you were like this, but you hated being alone. 

It bugged you so much, but you weren’t going to say a damn thing because having him next to you while you sat and listened to your music and spiraled was exactly what you needed. 

He only offered his hand when the plane hit some turbulence, and your entire body began to shake unconsciously. It was between the two of you, and all he did was flip it, so the palm was upwards. It was an invitation that you could immediately ignore and refuse if you wanted to. 

But something in you caused your hand to drop next to his and lace your fingers through his. 

God was it so fucking warm, and soft. You wondered if he still used the lotion you had recommended to him all those years ago when he would complain to you about his hands being “gross” and “too dry”. He absolutely did. 

He managed to hide his smile when you took his hand, but he did give yours a soft squeeze, and continued to read his book, pretending that his insides weren’t aflame and his mind was anywhere but on the words in front of him. 

He didn’t turn a page for over four minutes once your hand was in his. 

And I love too that love soon might end Be known in its aching Shown in the shaking Lately of my wasteland, baby Be still, my indelible friend, you are unbreaking Though quaking, though crazy That's wasteland, baby

That Night

“Thank you.” 

It was the first thing you had said in over five hours, including the plane ride. Once the plane had landed, you and Spencer went back to his apartment, and the two of you had sat in his living room, in silence. He didn’t mind, as long as he could keep an eye on you. 

Your mind was far far away. It was back in college. Thinking about your friend and about the life you could have lived if she was still with you. 

Spencer had left a cup of tea next to you, your favorite, and sat on the couch. You were situated in the chair by the window, staring out into the night, watching as the rain drops raced down the window and as the lights blurred together. 

He was close enough to provide you with some comfort, but far enough away to let you have whatever space you needed.

“Spence?” 

He snapped out of his head, looking towards you. Your eyes were tired, and your body reflected the same type of exhaustion. 

“Sorry. What do you need?” 

“I—.” You interrupted yourself with a yawn, cursing under your breath. “Shit sorry. I should probably go..” 

“It’s okay if you stay.” 

You looked out the window then back at him. 

“I’m not just saying that to get you into my bed—oh my god that came out wrong, I just mean I don’t want you out in that weather and I don’t really like the idea of you being alone tonight, especially after this case because—” 

“Spencer.” 

“---yeah?” 

“I’ll stay.” 

“O-oh. Good. good…” He nodded. “I can uh, take the couch and you can have the bed.” 

You rolled your eyes and smiled slightl;y. “You’re a gentleman, Doctor Reid, but I’m not kicking you out of your bed.” 

“But I—”

“Spence.” 

He huffed, crossing his arms as you just laughed softly to yourself, amused. 

“Why don’t we both go get ready. Together.” 

“Together?” 

You nodded. “Yeah Spence.” 

“Okay.” 

Spencer stood up, and offered his hand to you. 

And for the second time today, you took it. 

When the stench of the sea and the absence of green Are the death of all things that are seen and unseen Are an end but the start of all things that are left to do

And maybe the two of you would never be together ever again. Maybe you would. 

But something about the way Spencer would make your favorite tea, 

or the way he would save you the crossword puzzle on his morning newspaper since he knew how much you loved to solve as much as you could without his help, 

or when he would leave you notes on your desk, making you feel like a giddy high schooler all over again, or when he felt like a good start to something new

or when he would kiss you good morning and good night, promising you he’d be there whenever you woke up

or when he slowly got rid of things in his apartment to create space for your things as you moved in slowly 

or whenever a case was particularly rough for the both of you and he wouldn’t pester you to talk to him about it, instead offering his hand for you to take, and squeezing it, letting you know he was there for you

or the way he would take you on small vacations up to Vermont so you could go see all of your friends and escape from the world of the FBI

or the way he would never storm out of the apartment after an argument, but still give you the space you needed so you could both decompress without getting at each other's throats

or when he whispered every thing he would do for you for the rest of your lives so help him god when he thought you were asleep in his arms

or how he would whispered ‘I love you’ to you as you passed by while you both were working

or when he would never let you run off in the middle of the night because you would panic about whether or not this was all a dream, and one day he would wake up and not love you anymore

or when he got down on one knee and proclaimed his undying love for you, hoping you’d promised to love him forever in the same way he loved you, wanting to be with you, wanting to be near you always

made you feel like everything might be okay after all. 

Wasteland, baby I'm in love, I'm in love with you

[floralcyanide]

𝐁𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞 ✲ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐞 𝐖𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐫

Virgin!Charlie Walker x AFAB!Reader (NSFW)

You go to your friend's party not expecting much from it. Except, while there, you run into Charlie, a guy you've known all your life but have never got to know. One of his secrets is revealed, much to his embarrassment. You go to comfort him, and one thing leads to another. (both Charlie and reader are 18+.)

warnings: smut, nsfw, loss of virginity, mentions of virginity, penetration (p in v), unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), nipple/breast play, hair pulling, overstimulation, mentions of alcohol, drinking alcohol, reader is kinda experienced but just barely, afab!reader, descriptions of female anatomy, Charlie and reader are 18+

word count: 4890 (I'm,,,, yeah)

author's note: hello I cannot believe I typed most of this out today. I was possessed by the writing demon fr. I also can't believe it's as long as it is but ya know,,, I gotta give y'all the Charlie smut you wanted. so here it is. if you enjoy, please reblog/ like (:

masterlist | add yourself to the taglist here

this fic has been cross posted to ao3.

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ, ᴀᴏ3, ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇʙsɪᴛᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ɪɴ ᴀɪ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀs ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʀᴛɪғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴄᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ᴛᴏ sᴇʟʟ ғᴏʀ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ.

Playing truth or dare wasn’t on your list of things to do tonight at this party, but it may as well happen. 

You’re sitting criss cross on the floor of the living room, your back pressed against the front of the couch. Your best friend decided throwing one of their iconic parties before Spring Break would be fun, and they begged you to attend. And, of course, you couldn’t say no to them. So here you are in their living room with a Smirnoff Ice in your hand, waiting for someone to spin the bottle on the floor again. It only landed on you twice, and you picked truth both times. The questions were relatively tame, but the drunker everyone in the circle got and the more people who joined, the rowdier it got. You notice a guy you went to primary school with sitting across from you, with his forearm casually resting on his knee as he sips a beer with his free hand. He pretended to be looking elsewhere whenever a sexual question was brought up. Good old Charlie, the quiet and polite kid who was always good at math and oddly enough, film class. You two had been in school together since Kindergarten, and now you’re in university together and have yet to really talk. Sure, you’ve run into him at some places or have seen him around campus, chatting with him here and there, but nothing has ever broken the surface. You’ve yet to have a meaningful conversation with him. Both of you were partners in science class during your junior year of high school, but you weren’t close by any means. You push away your thoughts when you realize the bottle has now landed on you.

You take a large swig of your drink, “Oh boy.”

Luckily, your best friend is the one who spun the bottle. You hope whatever challenge or question they shoot at you will be tolerable. 

“Alright, Y/N. Truth or dare?”

“Hmm,” you think about this one momentarily and decide on a whim, “Dare.”

Your best friend eyes your still fairly full drink, “You just got iced! I dare you to chug the rest of your drink.”

Getting “iced” means if someone sees you holding a Smirnoff Ice, they can “ice” you by saying you have to chug the rest of your drink no matter how full it is. It’s a trend around campus, and it annoys you to no end as you drink Smirnoff Ice sometimes.

You roll your eyes and sigh, “Fine.”

Taking a deep breath, you begin chugging your drink. Thank god it’s your favorite flavor and not something stronger. Everyone is chanting for you to chug, and you do, trying not to laugh at how embarrassing it is to have all these people watching you. Some of the alcohol dribbles down your chin when you finish the rest of the bottle. The circle cheers, and the people next to you pat you on the back while everyone else gives a thumbs up. You feel a little rush to your head as you carefully place your hand on the bottle in the middle of the group, prepared to spin it. Once it lands, it lands on your other friend Kirby. You’re somewhat surprised she’s even playing truth or dare with you all, but you weren’t going to stop her.

“Truth or dare, Kirb?”

“Dare, of course,” Kirby smiles deviously, a little tipsy from whatever is in her solo cup.

“I dare you to kiss someone in the circle. It can be anyone,” you say after pondering for a moment.

It was a mild dare compared to some of the ones people have created in the group. Someone dared one girl to take off her shirt, and someone else dared your best friend to shotgun from the guy next to them. Now your best friend was buzzed on not only alcohol but some weed as well. So you’re somewhat shocked they didn’t choose a wilder dare for you to do.

Kirby looks surprised you’d choose a dare that consisted of anything intimate, but she shrugs it off before leaning toward Jill. You’re also surprised Jill is in the circle, but she claimed she just wanted to watch people embarrass themselves. Until the bottle landed on her for the first time, now, she’s slightly drunk and in the game. She and Kirby kiss for a few seconds, but you doubt it’s the first time they’ve done so. Kirby pulls away as some guys holler at the sight. She flips them off before spinning the bottle. This time, it lands on Charlie. A part of you fears for him because Kirby can be unpredictable.

“Truth or dare, Charlie?” Kirby asks, tapping her chin excitedly.

“Uh,” Charlie furrows his eyebrows, “Truth?”

Kirby grins like she had been hoping he’d choose truth, “When was the last time you got blown?”

“Blown?” Charlie asks, a little confused.

“Yeah. Blown. Like, a blowjob. When was the last time you got one of those, Charlie?” Kirby asks seriously, and everyone is paying close attention to what Charlie is about to say.

“Oh. I don’t know? I’ve never really,” Charlie clears his throat, “I’ve never really done anything like that.”

“Really?” Kirby asks, shocked, and a few people giggle.

“How about you ask a different question?” Charlie says, shifting around nervously.

“Okay. Are you a virgin?”

More people in the circle laugh, and everyone looks directly at Charlie, making his face go red as he curls into himself.

“That’s enough, Kirb,” you say gently, your eyes flickering between her and Charlie, “Maybe ask something not sexual in nature?”

“Right. Sorry,” Kirby cringes, but Charlie is already moving to get up from where he’s sitting.

You go to say something to him as he steps around you to walk to the kitchen, but he moves too fast.

You pinch the bridge of your nose, “Kirby, I know you like making Charlie squirm, but that was uncalled for.”

“I didn’t mean anything by it. I didn’t know he was a virgin,” Kirby frowns, staring into her drink.

“Maybe you should apologize,” you say, “I’ll go talk to him first and make sure he’s okay.”

“That’s a good idea,” your best friend nods.

You stand up and try to collect yourself for a moment as the alcohol makes your head swim. That Smirnoff was your third tonight, and you can tell that chugging it was a bad idea. But your vision clears, and you begin to walk to the kitchen. There are a few people crowded in there, talking and drinking. But no sight of Charlie. You wander to the patio and spot him sitting on the porch swing outside. You quietly open the sliding door and shut it behind you, walking toward the swing. 

“Hey,” you say, almost inaudible as you sit down next to Charlie.

“Hi,” he says awkwardly, tucking hair behind his ear as his eyes burn into his thighs.

“Are you okay? Sometimes Kirby doesn’t know when to shut up,” you roll your eyes, shaking your head at your friend’s behavior.

“I’m fine. It’s just not something I wanted everyone to know,” Charlie chuckles lightly.

“I understand. If it helps, I didn’t lose my virginity in high school like everyone, either. But I’m glad I waited until adulthood if that makes sense,” you say, trying to relate to Charlie a little.

You were in your sophomore year of college when you had your first serious partner, which led to you, of course, having sex. You were about to be 21, and felt like you had waited forever by that point. But the peer pressure and movies made sex seem totally different from what it actually was. But you were glad that you waited until you were more mature. Not everyone does, and you think that’s okay, just as long as there was consent. 

“Really? You didn’t lose it in high school?” Charlie finally turns to you, his face twisted into confusion.

“I was about twenty on twenty-one. Not long ago, but yeah,” you shrug, pushing your legs so that the swing moves slightly backward, “It’s not all it’s cracked up to be- the sex stuff. Honestly it’s nothing like porn, tv, or the movies. It’s awkward and silly and sometimes uncomfortable.”

Charlie nods slowly, “What is like, then? For someone with female anatomy, anyway.”

“If you're, you know, prepared, it doesn’t hurt. It’s like a feeling of fullness and then when they find the g spot with their fingers or whatever, it’s even better,” you feel your face burning at the thought of it all.

“G spot?”

You dare to look Charlie in the eye, “Yeah it’s a spot inside the vagina that gives you pleasure when it’s caressed or pushed into,” you give him an awkward smile.

“Oh,” Charlie laughs, “Sorry if I’m making you uncomfortable or anything. I just don’t know much. I mean I know the basics, but,” he trails off, looking at your lips for a moment before tearing his eyes away.

“Basics, hmm?” you lean in toward Charlie, letting your knee touch his as you push the swing with your feet, moving it backward again, “What would those be?”

“Like where to touch someone kind of? I mean I’ve seen videos but none of that is real,” Charlie says, his face now slightly red.

The alcohol still burns in your veins, making your brain feel happily cloudy and a little braver than usual.

“And where would you touch someone?” you ask, now letting your thigh completely press against Charlie’s, your bodies now closer in proximity.

Charlie lets his shoulder touch yours, “Well, I know some people like being kissed on their ears,” he turns to you again, tucking some hair behind your ear softly.

“Yes,” you nod, slowly reaching your hand up to the ends of Charlie’s hair, “What about here, Charlie? Know anything about hair and what you can do with it?”

Charlie hesitates, “You can pull hair because some people like that.”

“Do you like it Charlie?” you look up and notice how close your faces are to one another, letting your eyes dart from his lips to his eyes.

“I don’t know, really. I feel like I would,” Charlie nods, trying his best not to stutter as he stares at your lips blatantly.

You let go of Charlie’s hair before sliding a cautious hand through his front bangs and letting your fingers root to his scalp. His breath hitches at the feeling of your touch.

“I feel like I definitely would,” Charlie repeats, clearing his throat as he lets his hand rest on your knee, “Is this okay?”

You chuckle, “Yes. Is it okay that I’m touching your hair?”

“Absolutely,” Charlie answers quickly.

“Do you want to see what it feels like to have it pulled a little?” you ask, your eyes landing on his lips once again.

They look so kissable and biteable. You always have thought Charlie was fairly cute, but never really gave it much thought or acted on it, until now. After all, you’re both a little tipsy and this is a college party you’re at. Why not have a little fun?

“Yes,” Charlie says, closing his eyes and letting his lips finally brush against yours.

You capture his lips with yours softly, lifting your free hand to rest upon Charlie’s jaw. His hand on your knee travels up your thigh until it’s on your hip, squeezing lightly as you deepen the kiss. Charlie places his other hand behind your head, pushing you closer to him as you run your tongue along his bottom lip. He lets you in, letting you take total control of the kiss. Charlie knows how to kiss, and he can kiss well, but he’d rather let you do whatever you wanted. If he’s honest, he would let you do anything to him, and he’s always felt this way. And that weird classmate crush he’s had on you is blossoming further with every second that passes as you kiss. 

Swirling your tongue around Charlie’s, you wait for the perfect moment to tug at his hair. The kiss is growing into a sloppy makeout and you can tell Charlie is getting turned on, You bite at his lip, tugging on it as he lets out a small moan. When he does this, you decide to pull on his hair a little, causing his moan to grow louder.

You pull away from the kiss, trying not to laugh, “Are you okay?”

“I’m- I’m fine,” Charlie whispers, his lips are swollen and red and his pupils are slightly larger than before.

“You sure?” you ask, your hand still on his face as your thumb traces along his jawline, “I know somewhere we can go that’s more private if no one is already in there.”

“Like where?” Charlie asks.

“My best friend has a guest room I usually camp out in when I stay over,” you say, standing up from the swing, offering a hand out to Charlie, “Care to join?”

Charlie looks at you, then your hand, before taking it, “Lead the way.” 

You hold his hand until you get to the sliding door, “I’ll go first, so watch which direction I head to when I get up the stairs. Then whenever you’re ready, come on up.”

“Okay,” Charlie nods, fighting a giddy smile.

“Is everything okay?” your best friend approaches you immediately once you and Charlie walk through the door.

“Yep. We’re all good,” you say.

“Most of the party is gone. You can stay here if you’d like,” your best friend says, looking between you and Charlie nonchalantly.

“Cool. I think I’ll head upstairs, then. Charlie and I are still talking, so,” you trail off, “Don’t mind us.”

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” your best friend winks.

“Yeah, that isn’t very much though,” you joke with them before dragging Charlie upstairs and not bothering to sneak him in.

Once both of you are upstairs and in the room, you shut the door and lock it before turning on the bedside lamp. Charlie sits on the bed, his hands clasped together nervously. You walk over to him, shedding your jacket and tossing it to the end of the bed. Standing directly in front of him, his knees touching yours, you card your hand through his hair again. Charlie’s eyes flutter shut and you climb onto his lap, wrapping your legs around his waist.

“So do you like having your hair pulled now?” you ask, and Charlie looks so nervous that he’s gonna burst.

“Can you remind me of how it feels?” Charlie looks up at you, innocence flashing in his eyes.

You pull Charlie’s hair enough to where his head moves back, exposing his neck to you. He hums in content and you can’t help but start kissing along the side of his throat. You nip a little at his skin, running your tongue over the places you sink your teeth. Enough for him to feel it, but not enough to leave a mark. You squeeze your fingers into an open fist, pulling Charlie’s hair at a different angle. Just as he’s about to let out a noise, you move the top of his shirt down and bite down below his collarbone, sucking at the skin until it’s red. Charlie then lets out an actual moan, which makes your stomach turn. 

“Feel good?” you ask, moving your hand from his hair and to his hip, sliding it up his shirt.

“Yes,” Charlie sighs, “Very.”

“Do you want to keep going? We don’t have to if you don’t want-”

“I do. I want to keep going.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to regret your first time,” you say.

“I won’t regret it, especially if it’s with you,” Charlie blushes.

A smile grows on your face, “Really? And you aren’t saying that just to get in my pants?”

“No,” Charlie chuckles, “I”m not just saying it to get in your pants. I like you.”

“Well in that case,” you slide your other hand under Charlie’s shirt, “Where else do you know to touch someone, Charlie?”

Charlie shifts underneath you, unsure what to do with his hands, “Um. Here?” he asks, slowly placing his hands on your thighs and gripping them slightly.

“Yes, good. Where else?”

You’re slowly trailing your fingers up and down Charlie’s torso, sending goosebumps all over his skin as he struggles to speak properly.

“Here,” is all he can choke out, running his shaky hands along your hips and waist.

“Uh-huh,” you slip your hands from under Charlie’s shirt and put them on top of his, “Want me to guide you or do you think you’ve got it?”

“You can guide me if you want to,” Charlie says, biting his lip.

You grab Charlie’s hands and move them under your shirt to your covered breasts, “Sprawl out your fingers and squeeze with them.”

Charlie does as told, and he does it perfectly. It’s probably the most simple way you can touch someone, though. But you don’t mind.

“You can squeeze them all you want either under my shirt or without my shirt,” you run your fingers through the hair on the side of Charlie’s head.

You let go of Charlie’s hands, letting him do as he pleased. He squeezes at your breasts, moving his hands in different ways to elicit moans from you. Before Charlie can decide, you go ahead and strip off your shirt and your binder/bra. Your nipples harden at the sudden exposure to cooler air and Charlie stares at them, unsure of what to do next.

“What do you want to do with them, Charlie? You can suck them, bite them, pull them, whatever you want,” you say, leaning in closer to Charlie’s face.

“Can I do both?” Charlie asks.

“At the same time or?” you ask, and he nods.

“Yes. You can do one thing to one while you do something else to the other if that’s what you want to do.”

Charlie slowly takes one of your nipples into his mouth, experimentally licking at it while rubbing circles on your other. The sensual movements of Charlie’s finger and tongue cause you to moan softly. You continue to card your fingers through his hair as he moves his tongue and finger a little faster than before. He then pulls away from your nipple, a string of saliva still connecting it to his mouth. Charlie then moves to the other nipple and flicks his tongue against it without sucking it between his lips. He heistantly pinches the nipple he just had his mouth on, his spit adding the perfect amount of lubrication. Your hips involuntarily buck forward at the feeling of Charlie’s tongue lapping at the sensitive bud. He then fully takes it into his mouth, lightly running his teeth around it. Charlie holds back a smirk at the high pitched noise you let out at the sensation of teeth. He decides to try holding your nipple with his teeth and then licking it at the same time, just to see how you react. Your hand that’s in Charlie’s hair suddenly grips the dirty blonde locks harshly, and Charlie moans around you, adding vibration to the mix. So you pull his hair again. You feel him grow a tad harder underneath you.

“You like that, don’t you Charlie?” you bite your lip as he looks up at you through his eyelashes, suckling at your breast.

“I do,” he sighs contently, moving back to your left breast and pinching it lightly before massaging you again.

“Do you know where else to touch?” you ask, becoming a little needy at this point.

Charlie’s mouth was so good you can’t possibly imagine how it feels elsewhere. And his long fingers? Why didn’t you think of this sooner?

Charlie looks incredibly nervous now as he moves his hands to your upper thighs.

“Just remember that you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to,” you say gently.

“I want to touch you and make you feel good,” Charlie says, shakily unbuttoning and unzipping your jeans.

“Let me lay down so it’s not as awkward for both of us,” you say, climbing off of Charlie’s lap and onto the bed, “I trust that you know kinda what to do, but take your time. If you need help don’t hesitate to ask.”

Charlie nods, nestling himself between your legs, resting on his stomach and elbows. You push your pants and underwear down your thighs, letting Charlie pull them down the rest of the way. When your clothes are pushed off your feet, Charlie returns to his position and his eyes grow large at the sight of your bare pussy. He’s breathless as he slowly runs a curious finger up your glistening slit, causing you to gasp. He does the movement again, this time applying some more pressure. Charlie is amazed at how wet you are from him playing with your breasts, but he figures you’re probably into that. He knows that when someone is wet, they feel good, so seeing how soaked you are for him makes his confidence skyrocket. You spread your legs further apart, letting Charlie get a full view. He runs his finger over what he thinks may be your clit, but he’s not too sure.

“Move your finger up and you’ll feel it,” you grab Charlie’s hand and guide it upward just a little.

The tip of his finger brushes against the correct spot and you hum in approval, “Right there.”

Charlie circles your clit with his finger slowly, almost tantalizing, “Like this?”

“Just like that,” you say weakly, “God, you’re getting me so wet.”

Charlie leans in and kisses your inner thighs, wanting to bury his face in your arousal, but only with your permission.

You sense his hesitation, “You can lick it if you want. You can do anything you’re comfortable with, Charlie. I promise.”

Charlie gives your clit a tentative lick, and for a moment his licking isn’t pressured enough.

“You can lick harder, you won’t hurt me,” you said brushing some hair from Charlie’s face.

“Okay,” Charlie breathes out, licking from bottom to top in one long stripe, gathering your wetness on his tongue. He figures it’d feel good to you if he had some lubrication on your clit while licking it. And he’s right. As he swirls his tongue around your bundle of nerves, you swivel your hips to the same rhythm. 

“Fuck, Charlie,” you whimper, “Do you want to finger me?”

Charlie nods vigorously, his mouth not leaving you as he continues to lick you up, down, and all around. He was messy with it, but it still felt good to you. You take one of his hands that are gripping your thighs, pressing all his fingers down except the index one, and flipping his palm upward.

“All you have to do is find my entrance and push it in slowly until you’re fully inside, then you can bend it, twist it, or whatever you wanna do with it. When you think I’m ready, you can add a second one.”

Charlie nods wordlessly as he pulls his mouth off you, focusing on gathering the mixture of spit and slick before prodding at you and finding your entrance. He pushes his finger in as slowly as he can, watching you writhe underneath him. Charlie has his finger completely inside of you, and he experimentally curls it upward a little. The tip of his finger touches something spongy.

“Oh god right there,” you gasp, “You found it on the first try holy shit.”

“Found what?” Charlie leans down to play with your clit with his tongue again, curling his finger more forcefully.

“Fuck,” you sigh, throwing your head back momentarily, “Your finger is just the right length to get to my g spot. Keep rubbing it.”

Charlie wonders if licking in circles at the same time he circles his finger would cause a reaction. So he does, and you cry out.

“Keep going,” you say, letting your head relax against the pillows as it feels heavier with each stroke of Charlie’s finger.

He can feel you throb around his finger, and he slides it out before sliding it back in and hitting that spot. You thrust your hips in response, wishing Charlie would add a second finger. He decides now is the perfect time to see if two will fit. And his middle finger easily slides in next to his pointer, both fingertips pressing against your g spot deliciously. You begin to wordlessly pump yourself on Charlie’s fingers. He matches your pace, curling and caressing his fingers with every thrust. Your hands occupy your breasts, rolling your nipples as Charlie continues to suck your clit and finger you simultaneously. You feel like you’re going to explode.

“If you don’t stop I’m gonna cum,” you whine, “And I’m sure you’d like to feel me cum on your cock instead.”

You didn’t mean for something so filthy to leave your mouth so soon, but god, it causes Charlie to pause his movements and gauge what you just said to him. 

“Please,” Charlie gulps, “Only if you’ll let me.”

“I’m on the pill,” you say, hastily pulling at the bottom hem of Charlie’s shirt and tugging it over his head.

Charlie quickly removes his pants and underwear, discarding them somewhere in the room before clambering back to you, “Tell me what to do.”

“It’s just like your fingers,” you say, sliding your hands along Charlie’s chest, “Push into me slowly until you bottom out.”

“Okay,” Charlie says, focusing on lining himself up perfectly. 

Slowly, he pushes his tip into you, and your hands reach out for his upper arms. You grunt as Charlie continues to gently guide himself inside you, the stretch of his size stinging a little. But then he finally bottoms out, and you wiggle your hips to better adjust to him. Charlie is hovering over you, the most pleasured look on his face as his eyes close. He’s never felt something so warm and perfect engulf him like this. No wonder everyone else has done this already, he thinks to himself. 

“You can move, Charlie.”

Charlie pulls out of you just a small amount before sliding back in, testing the waters on how he’s supposed to thrust into you. Gradually, you let him inch closer and closer to pulling all the way out and then thrusting back in. Finally, he pulls out except for his tip, then sheathes himself completely inside of you.

The moan you let out is nearly pornographic as he hits you at just the right angle. This urges Charlie to do the movement again, so he pulls out, then plunges back into you. He does this over and over, faster each time.

“You’re doing so good, Charlie, fuck,” you grip his biceps as you move your hips in time with his.

“Only good for you,” he pants, his fingers digging into your hips for leverage.

You reach a hand down to toy with your clit, but when Charlie notices, he switches your hand for his. He decides to use his thumb since he could access your clit better that way while fucking you. Charlie rubs tight circles on your bundle of nerves as he continues to hit that sweet spot inside you repeatedly. A tight warmth is building in your stomach again.

Charlie leans his face down to yours, immediately capturing you into a kiss. The kiss is hot and messy- you’re both gasping and swirling your tongues together with mouths open as you both desperately chase your highs.

“I’m gonna,” Charlie groans, burying his face in your neck.

“Cum for me, Charlie. Such a good boy for me,” you whimper, rocking your hips into his at a ferocious pace.

Your words send him unraveling, and the sound that erupts from his throat pushes you over the edge as well. You grasp at his arms, riding out your orgasm as Charlie continues to rub your clit lazily. You push his hand away, but at the same time, it feels so good. Charlie brings his hand back to your clit, knowing the sounds you were still making means you like how it feels. After he carefully pulls out of you, he continues his movements. 

“I’m gonna cum again, please,” you messily swivel your hips, grinding your clit onto Charlie’s thumb as hard as you can with your shaking body.

“Fuck,” you cry out, Charlie still rubbing you hard and fast, “I’m-”

Before you can finish your sentence, you cum hard, your arousal seeping out of you and into Charlie’s hand. Your chest heaves as Charlie licks his hand clean before letting his hands rub up and down your body, your orgasm still fizzling out. 

“How did I do?” Charlie asks nervously.

“So good. I can’t imagine how much better you’ll get over time,” you smile as Charlie grabs his shirt for you to clean up with.

“Wanna stick around and find out?” Charlie half jokes, handing you the shirt.

“Only if you want me to,” you say, cleaning yourself up.

“I want you to,” Charlie says softly, “I still have a lot to learn.”

“That you do,” you chuckle before pecking Charlie on the lips.

taglist:

@Spatterpus @wqndasdarkkhold @leilani788

[lxfinty]

┊𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬

xavier thorpe ; wednesday

pairing: xavier thorpe x hispanic!normie!fem!reader

warnings: pure (probably excessive and embarrassing) fluff, like one curse word

request: Can you please write a oneshot for xavier where the reader is a normie and he keeps seeing her everywhere whenever they go out to the town :) he develops a crush and so does reader on the mysterious boy from nevermore until one day he comes to like work at a shop or soemthing??? and when he does reader is also there and they spend time together flirting and pining until one confesses to the other ! ALSO IDK WHY BUT I FORGOT TO ADD THAT READER IS FEMALE AND HISPANIC (i just sent an xavier request ! ) :))))

summary: a few of the instances in which you met xavier before actually meeting xavier

a/n: since the reader is hispanic, there are slight character descriptions to get that across, such as a mention of curly hair and a bit of spanish dialogue (though not a lot bcs I don’t speak spanish and don’t wanna butcher it…). also, this takes place in scenes/places seen throughout the show, but xavier never liked wednesday because it makes more sense in context.

character credit: wednesday series

w/c: 1.5k

part 2: the awaited interactions

Even though you were still a few yards away from actually entering, the area around the fair has 10 different aromas wafting through the air. Flashing lights could be seen in every direction; vibrant colors swatched along every ride and carnival game.

As you enter the fairgrounds, you look around at the people: adults, kids, normies…outcasts. You knew it was likely for them to come, as it is every year, but it’s still a shock to see the so-called “weirdos” of Jericho doing such normal activities.

Regardless, it’s nice to see everyone together for such events. You don’t completely understand the separation between the town. Sure, the outcasts were different, but they were still beings in their own right. They were freaky by nature, but even then you find their freakiness pretty alluring.

You walk around for a bit, grabbing some food as you pass by certain stands, and sit down at an empty picnic bench. As you eat, you watch the people around you as they talk and laugh and play games. You find this particular pair of people interesting.

They’re outcasts.

It’s pretty obvious by the girl’s all black attire and creepy nature, though you wouldn’t be able to tell the boy was one if it weren't for his association with the former. 

You can’t help but analyze their features. The girl is actually really pretty, if you put her gloomy aura aside. Her hair is completely black and straight, a contrast to your own curls, though it’s in pigtails, and you swear you haven’t seen her blink this entire time. She seems like she doesn’t wanna be here, almost like she’s in a rush.

After you’re done looking her over, your eyes drift over to the guy she’s standing with.

He is gorgeous.

His hair is pretty long for a guy, reaching to about his shoulders. He’s currently hunched over, his hands resting on a carnival game table, but you can tell at full height he's freaking tall. He’s wearing a dark gray trench coat, which is extremely simple, yet somehow he looks like a male model and-

‘¡Ay, Dios! I need to stop fangirling over this random boy right now’ you think and avert your eyes, focusing back on your grease filled meal.

After a few minutes, you can’t help but notice the pigtailed girl hurrying away from the stand through your peripheral view, leaving the long-haired boy all alone. You stare at him again, zoning out to the point where you don’t even notice him staring directly back at you.

You snap out of your trance, quickly looking down at the table for a few seconds before slowly creeping your eyes back over, where he is still assessing you.

He gives you a small head tilt and wave, to which you shyly smile back before cleaning up your mess and heading in the opposite direction.

‘I cannot believe I just got caught ogling at a guy like that…por favor mátame.’

–

After the last encounter with the mysterious long-haired outcast, you honestly didn’t expect to see him. He seemed like the type to pop up once and never show his face again.

You wish you were right.

Today, you’re heading into town to study a bit at a local park. You find the scenery relaxing and way less stuffy than working at home.

As you’re settling down on a picnic table, taking all your necessities out of your bag so you can get started, you notice the blue and black stripes of the Nevermore Academy uniform walking into the general store down the street. 

You think nothing of it, focusing back on your materials and figuring a student going into a store is definitely not your business and absolutely none of your concern. 

About 25 minutes into studying, you notice the stripes once more, but this time it seems as though they are walking towards you. As you focus harder on the person’s form, you recognize the tall body and lengthy hair you’ve seen once before.

You look down at the plastic grocery bag he is holding, and though you can’t see its contents from this far, you’re sure it’s not actually groceries and is more along the lines of something music or art related. 

He just gives off that vibe.

You realize that he has stopped venturing towards you. Actually, he’s stopped walking altogether.

Your glance shifts up to his face to find that he has, once again, caught you staring at him like an absolute creep.

You let out a tiny shriek before ducking behind your computer screen. 

‘The universe must hate me or something because oh my god,’ you think, internally panicking once more. You take a small peek past the lit up screen just enough to see him laugh to himself and shake his head before heading towards…the woods?

“I must have killed Mother Teresa in my past life,” you mumble to yourself softly before resuming your studies, “that’s the only possible reason my luck is at negative freaking eighty right now.”

–

Pilgrim World was…grim to say the least. It was mainly a plot to attract tourists and make money for the town. Young kids did always find entertainment in the, probably inaccurate, history of the town, so you guess it’s not all bad.

For the normal townspeople that is. 

The students from Nevermore were forced to work the grounds each year. Yeah…not exactly “town building,” but it was mandatory for them.

You sat at the Weathervane café with your computer and a warm drink. Learning about the same white people every year wasn’t your type of fun – no disrespect to them – so you opt to just watch others from the window seat, maybe get a bit of work done in the process. You watch kids chase each other; families share pieces of fudge; individuals enjoying their beverages while trolling down the center lane. You were so focused on watching others, you completely forgot about your previous, most important task: to watch the entrance.

Not that you just wanted to stare at townsfolk all day, but you were anticipating a certain outcast’s arrival. You wanted to make sure that you could watch the long-haired boy walk in so that you wouldn’t embarrass yourself by randomly staring like you did previously. But with your low attention span and professional ability to zone out at the worst times, you completely missed the fact that just who you were looking for had not only arrived at Pilgrim World already, but had walked into the café minutes ago.

“Do you want me to wipe down your table?”

That was the question that caused you to jolt in surprise, turning your head to meet the mysterious Nevermore boy.

“I wouldn’t want you to get your computer wet. You know, just in case you need to hide behind it again,” he finishes with a small smirk.

"Cielos, me asustaste,” you exclaim, more as an instant response than an actual reply, and giggle a bit while looking at your lap.

You look up at him after doing so, only to find him softly smiling at you. You open and close your mouth a few times before internally taking a deep breath and looking him in the eyes.

“Hopefully I won’t need to hide from anyone any time soon. But yeah, sure.”

You set your computer on the seat beside you as the boy gives the table a few wipes. Funny thing is, the table was completely clean before he wiped it. Even more so since you dusted it off a bit before sitting.

“No more hiding, huh? I like the sound of that,” he remarks. He finishes wiping the invisible mess off of your table and stands straight again. “Do you need a refill?”

You didn’t even notice that your cup was a few sips away from empty.

“Oh uh sure. It’s just hot chocolate,” you smile and he slightly nods before making his way over to the counter.

You start glancing back out the window, though this time there are Nevermore students roaming around in addition to the previous bunch. Some people are outside handing out fudge while in pilgrim costumes. You had to do that one year…it’s as boring as it looks. You notice the gloomy girl you had seen at the carnival enter the Crackstone house down the road. You could have sworn that it was closed off…

A bump on your table causes you to look away from the historical building and down at the cup that has been dropped off. You pick up the cup and take a sip as the long-haired boy walks away to clean off other tables. You glance at the cup holding the warm chocolate, which is when you see the black marker along the side.

‘Xavier…xxx-xxx-xxxx’

‘Oh,’ you thought as you realized what this was. His name…and number. Your whole face felt warm as your eyes searched for the boy, finding him behind the counter already looking at you.

You smile and tip your cup in his direction before taking another sip and going back to staring out the window.

Honestly, I used this as an excuse to gush over Xavier bcs oml there is no reason I should find this man as attractive as I do. Also, possible pt.2 with them getting closer ???

Another question: somebody asked me if I had a taglist for Xavier, so I was just wondering if y’all would want that? 

I no longer support Percy Hynes White and will no longer take request for Xavier Thorpe.

[amiscreations]

Meeting All of Def Leppard in Sheffield!!!!

Yes, really! and no this wasn't part of a meet and greet or anything, I just happened to be incredibly blessed that weekend🥰 so sit back, relax, get your snacks, and lemme give you a comprehensive timeline of how I met the guys!

So you guys all know my interaction with Sav at the album signing, if not read about it here, but that was my only interaction with Sav. 

other than that, my friends happened to be staying at the same hotel that the Leppards and their crew were! 

the only one of the Leppard crew who wasn't staying there was Sav, because he was staying at his house (he lives in Sheffield so ig it makes sense) but yeah that was why we didn't see him at all after the signing.

also the man is illusive af so even if he was staying at the hotel we prob wouldn't have seen much of him😅

Right, now time for the others!

The next Leppard I met (and I still genuinely cannot believe this) was Joe!

We got back to the hotel after the concert and he was just… there? In the lobby/restaurant area? WHAT?

I will admit that I did feel a little bad going up to him as he seemed like he just wanted to hang out with his friends who were all there, but at this point I didn’t know that they were staying at the hotel so I didn’t know if I’d ever get this opportunity again.

He was sO NICE and sO TIPSY LMAO

We didn’t say much to each other apart from the usual “the show was amazing!” And “Thank you, I’m glad you enjoyed it” kinda routine bUT STILL I WAS TALKING TO JOSEPH ELLIOTT HIMSELF ANYTHING WAS MORE THAN AMAZING 

he is also vERY tall in person

Like I knew he was like 6′3 or something like that but my short ass just did not expect him to be that tall for some reason

But yeah that was that

Another fun thing was that we stayed in the lobby for a little while and we could just hEAR him laughing and talking 

Something I learned about Joe Elliott on this trip is that tHE MAN IS LOUD WHEN TIPSY

Just as we were about to retire for the night, in walks The Thundergod himself, Mr Rick Allen!

Of course we got a picture with him and he was very intent on taking it himself in selfie mode LMAO

(my friends were in this too but I decided to crop them out bc I wasn't sure if they wanted to be on Tumblr or not)

HE IS SO LOVELY AAAAAAA

Cut to the next day, I meet my friends in Starbucks, and we weren’t in there more than 10 mins, and Rick walks in! 

My friend apparently had always wanted to buy him coffee, so the went up and paid for his order aWWW

he then proceeded to come and sit at our table and we just... talked?

as if we were old friends?

WHAT?

HE IS SO NICE AND SO CHARMING AND SO FUNNY I JUST AWWW

we ended up running into him a lot that day and the next, and he genuinely seemed happy to see us!

at one point he said “greetings earthlings” to us and did the Star Trek salute

long story short for about 48 hours we became best friends with Rick Allen and I miss him every day

Next up: Phil

our first interaction was very generic (well as generic as you can get when you're literally meeting one of your favourite people on the entire planet)

we ran into him in the lobby of the hotel and we talked about the concert for a bit

he said he was super excited for the rest of the tour AWW

we saw him a couple of other times  that day but other than a “hello” and a smile  we didn't bother him at all

we would have done the same whenever we saw Rick but I cannot stress enough that HE was the one coming up to US when ever he saw us

later that day we also saw Joe again but we didn't go up to him as he was with Jess and Mike and seemed busy ( he was honestly probably going out to film something👀)

Ok this next part might be a lil sad

But we also went to visit Steve🥺

I didn’t expect to cry, but as soon as the three of us laid eyes on his gravestone we just all broke down into tears.

There was a lot of lil bits of memorabilia there that looked like they had been there for a long time, mostly guitar picks and lil notes.

But the part that got us? There was a picture of him and Phil there which you can just about see in the first photo

Not me crying again rn

But we have him some flowers (which we all wrote a note on) and I also gave him a guitar pick. 

I’d actually found this guitar pick on the floor in Brighton a few weeks ago, and it was from a music touring company. I’d completely forgotten I’d left it in my bag, but I think it was absolutely a sign when I found it on the floor.

Everything felt so heartbreakingly perfect 

We got to share this little moment with him💜

Ok sad stuff over 

Cut to the next day, we’re back at Starbucks again getting breakfast. surely nothing else out of the ordinary could happen, right?

well that was proven wrong when VIVIAN CAMPBELL WALKED IN HKSFBKFJS

seriously we weren’t even planning to stay in there wE WERE IN THERE FOR LIKE FIVE MINUTES TO GET BREAKFAST AND THEN GO

anyways I got to give him one of my art prints 

I actually forgot to say I gave one to Rick as well as Sav

well I gave one to Scott (sav’s son who I saw at the OAC pop up) and he said he would give it to Sav AWW

the only one I didn't give a print to was Joe and im sO MAD bc I made a bunch of Joe prints to give out to the fans at the concert and over the weekend bUT I FORGOT TO SAVE ONE FOR THE MAN HIMSELF AAAAAH IM SORRY JOE

I can just imagine all the guys showing each other their prints and Joe being like 🥺why didn't I get one?

I WILL GET A PRINT TO JOE IF IT KILLS ME DW THIS IS NOW MY MISSION 

ANYWAYS Viv was super cool but super shy aww so it didn't seem right to ask him for a picture

[EDIT] idk how I forgot this part but Viv actually recognised me from the signing???!!!! He said “aw I recognise you, you were the one with Sav’s jacket😃” I kept my cool somehow but I was fREAKING OUT

esp in the cafe where I don’t think he wanted attention drawn to him😅

also side note I can confirm that Viv is absolutely ripped irl like bRUUUH👁👄👁

everyone talks about how buff phil is but nO ONE TALKS ABOUT VIV

soz but that just needed to be said.

we decided to stay in the lobby and ofc we saw the leppards a bunch again

literally it was so surreal 

just as they were getting ready to check out Joe came out of the elevator and said “good morning ladies” to us 

we all just collectively internally screamed

we said some other things to him and vice versa but my brain was going 100 miles an hour (BC THAT’S JOE ELLIOTT RIGHT THERE TALKING TO US?) so I honestly dont remember what exactly we were saying😅

another fun thing was that my friend had gifted him a shirt at the signing aND THE MAN WAS WEARING IT AS HE WAS CHECKING OUT

IT WAS SO SWEET AND WE ALL JUST CRIED 

and then as he walked out he said “ladies I bid you adieu”

*more internal feral screaming*

Viv also went to check out and Caitlin (his wife) was with him and I stg she gave me a death glare LMAO

I honestly don’t think she meant to lol but it was still funny

like don’t worry I'm not gonna steal your man calm down

I managed to stop Phil just in time to give him one of my art prints!

one of my friends also had a programme from the Pyro days that had a double page pic of the guys and everyone had their signature (yes this even had Steve’s signature) apart from Phil

and she finally got to complete it by asking him to sign it! 

the best part about this was that he seemed so genuinely happy to see Steve’s signature

he then gAVE ME AND HER HUGS WTF FHDHDHSH

we both then cried 😃

like literally we were both so overwhelmed (in a good way) that we just had to let it all out

and just like that, they were on their way to the airport 

when I left for Sheffield four days prior I had no idea that when I left, I could say I'd had conversations with all five of my favourite people in the world. 

hopefully this was the first time of many I’ll see them!

[the-dance-of-italy]

Even with my knowledge about cults I should've been more careful when watching the show.

Whenever I saw certain scenes with Jonathan's Jesus, it looked like I was watching a cult leader forcing himself unto others rather than optionally inviting. Those scenes didn't sit right with me, even with the soft, funny Jesus he portrayed, the cultish side was still there.

I cannot assume that everyone in the production team is a zionist or racist or is involved in whatever Angel Studios' agenda is, but it is worrysome that so many people are involved and could potentially be brainwashed by these assholes.

A few of the actors don't seem so bad, George, Giovanni, Luke, Paras and some seem like genuinely good hearted human beings. They spoke up in favor of some staff with pride flags when conservative christians tried to get the show cancelled. Then they also helped do a fundraiser for a fan who had a terminal illness.

Luke even mentioned being pro Ukraine in a video on TikTok. (Lightly mentioning of course). So it's baffling to me that he's not speaking up about Palestine. He's Arabic and a very proud one, always speaking up about how Arab representation matters, his parents are from Egypt, which I believe was also being bombarded by Israel a few weeks ago too (probably still is and will continue to be). Paras I believe is Indian and he's also on the same track.

I can't speak up against the rest of the cast who haven't made any statements because I don't know what's going on behind countians. Luke had been struggling a bit with his starting career, so I fear they're twisting his arm on the topic. Maybe the others too.

In Luke's specific case, I know damn well that if he realized the mistake he's making and went to make his own things, he'd be incredibly successful! He's incredibly funny! If anyone who was a Markiplier fan, or a Game Grumps fan or Unus Annus fan who's reading this, know he's a fan of those people too and his sense of humor is right up there with them. He has SO much potential that it's baffling he's even working for Angel Studios right now.

And this is something seen in cults a lot. Good intentioned people being manipulated without them even noticing because of people in power, integrating them in activities, situations, jobs,etc that could help them or other people on large scales, but ultimately it just benefits whoever's in charge.

A lot of the cast members come from different backgrounds, religions, etc, but If I found out most of them turned to Christianity during or after this is over I'm going to be incredibly heartbroken...

[bigfootsmom]

wip wednesday

thank you for the tags from my beloved @shortsighted-owl & @homerforsure <3 <3 <3

cannot believe it's wednesday already wtf. Also, even though I JUST posted the longest fic i've written to this date, I have started i think THREE more wips since then. Of course, one of them is a post 6x11 fic because THAT EP WAS SO GOOD HELLO HI I WANT TO INJECT IT INTO MY VEINS <3 <3 <3

His apartment stinks like a flower shop, he has more paper cuts than he can count from the stack of “get well soon” cards piling up on his kitchen table — and there is a couch in his living room. A couch, one that he didn’t buy — didn’t even get a say in picking it out. It’s fine, big enough to fit multiple people watching a game. It’s not ugly or anything, his mother is at least skilled at interior design. The new matching area rugs he has is proof enough of that. 

He hates it. 

He hates the stupid couch and its stiff cushions and rough fabric. He hates the area rugs and how he keeps tripping over them, how they make the space of the loft feel too small and foreign. It feels wrong, and he wants nothing more than to roll the rugs up and toss them off the balcony, the couch can go with them for all he cares. 

But he can’t do that. Because he was struck by lightning, and stuck in a coma — which means he needs to take it easy. That means no heavy lifting, and no throwing furniture out his window. He knows he could call someone for help, Eddie, or Bobby. Hell, Chimney would probably be thrilled to help. But Buck’s tolerance for visitors, for worried faces and hovering hands, is just about all used up. 

Buck feels like crawling out of his skin. He’s never done well just sitting still, always needs to be on the move, have something planned. A project of some kind, something to fix. But in this case all there is to fix is himself. The air of the loft feels like it’s becoming more stale with each passing day of his recovery and recuperation. He knows it’s a miracle he’s even alive to have the ability to rest and recover, and he’s grateful that his heart is still pumping and his lungs are still taking in air. But whenever he starts to think about the air on his tongue, it starts to taste like the recycled air they pumped into his lungs through a plastic tube. He can still feel the phantom ache of it in his throat, the unforgiving plastic scratching the sensitive skin raw. No matter how much water he drinks, or how much he rubs at the skin of his neck until it’s bright pink, the ache is still there.

It's very late so I guess consider this tag for next week or something: @dykemunson, @honestlydarkprincess, @morganofthefairies, @afterafternoons, @maygrantgf, @lovebuck, @herodiaz, @princessfbi, @ajunerose, @rottenmarigolds

[because-she-goes]

manchester wedding

warnings: tooth achingly sweet wedding fluff, this time from nora’s POV. Enjoy!

Dear Husband,

Well, Here we are. Today is the day I marry the love of my life while in his favorite city in the world surrounded by his favorite people in the world. Currently, I am sitting in a green room with the windows open trying to get some peace and quiet in order to write this properly. It is summer in England, your favorite season here. I can hear everyone chatting downstairs and the music playing over the loud speakers. I can hear your voice above everyone else’s - filled to the brim with bliss.

We decided months ago to have it Albert Hall since you always dreamt of getting married at a concert venue. The boys surprised you by playing “Fallingforyou” live w/ Pheobe singing. I cried. Obviously. It was a beautiful version, I think they even had some string players join them. It is wild to think about that only an hour ago, I said I do.

Marrying you is the easiest thing I have ever done in my 27 years of life. It is the happiest 24 hours of my life. It is my happiest memory. It is my most cherished moment.

Hearing you say those three letters felt like roman candles exploding in my heart. I can’t believe I get to wake up to you for the rest of my life, how did I get that lucky? I can’t believe I get to have you for forever. When I am with you, it feels like we are moving at light speed to the point where time is standing still.

It has felt like time has stood still since I first laid my eyes on you. From that first glance, to going on tour with you that first year, to leaving New York to move in with you here in London, to us dancing at our wedding. It makes me dizzy, how in each of those moments, my only real memory is of you. Holding onto me in front of the slot machine, hearing your voice lead a choir of thousands each night, holding my hand the whole plane ride over, to seeing your eyes fill with love, hope and joy during our first dance. Nowadays, you are all I think about. You are the center of my universe, my sun and moon and stars.

I know I can be messy at times, and quite the handful, but I’d die to make you proud. To earn the title of Your Girl. Whenever you call me that, it feels like lightning goes through me. You make me feel safe, comfortable, warm, at ease and protected. For that, I can never repay you. I will never be able to thank you enough for not only accepting me, but then celebrating me and all my flaws. It is a refreshing feeling to come home and be myself and not worry about having to put on any masks around you. You understand me better than I understand myself. I never believed people when they said things like that, until I met you. I was in black and white until I met you. Now, I am in technicolor and the whole world around me has changed for the better.

I thank you for showing me your world and all its delights and for the warm welcome into your world. Seeing your friends and how they all adore you as much as I do is a truly special gift. You are so loved beyond measure. I hope you know that. I will never be able to tell you that enough times. My love for you is endless and overflows my heart. Promise me to never forget that, my dear. I’d like to thank your exes for shaping you into the man I met all those years ago, all of those moments with them leading you to me. Without them, I do not know where we would be today. All of their love cannot even compare to the amount I am ready to give you over the next lifetime. I will need 10 lifetimes to tell you I love you enough. I love your mind and how creative you are. I love your work and how passionate you are about it. I love your lips and hands for gifting me the love songs I used to only dream of receiving. I love your eyes and how I could be lost in them and their beauty for years. I love your hair and how you moan when I run my hands through it and pull at the nape of your neck. I love everything about you. Truly, madly and deeply.

I love your heart most, Handsome. It is the kindest, gentlest, most loving one I have ever known. Your generosity is a marvel. Your care for everyone around you leaves me speechless. I can only offer you a lifetime of mine, but you deserve an infinite amount.

Promise me to touch me as softly and sweetly as you did that night in Vegas. Our first touch. Our first kiss. Grab my waist, don’t waste any part, Honey. When I am bare and vulnerable, hold me and never let me go.

You see me for who I am, at my very core. You look at me like I am some sort of otherworldly being when I am simply the one thing I have always been meant to be…. Your Nora.

Love always and forevermore,

Your Wife.

[november-rayne]

Chapter Thirteen: The Chase

Summary: Loki finds himself seeking matriarchal advice. Thor talks Loki into blowing off some steam.

Word Count: 5275

Rating: Mature

*This story is for mature audiences only.* 18+

*Minors DNI*

Tags: Fluff. Loki being a mama's boy. Thor being the best brother.

Chapter Index

Loki and Sigyn didn’t get to spend time alone over the next week. Loki was still catching up on his missed work while away from the palace. Sigyn was with her mother and the queen sitting in on wedding plans and training with Lady Sif every chance she got. They saw each other at dinner in the main hall every night. Still, there were always so many other people around. Visiting dignitaries, courtiers, and other Lords of the realm vying for time with the royal family. There was also the issue of Sigyn’s mother keeping her close to her side.

Loki ensured they always sat together and held her hand between courses as she told him stories about growing up in the North and her friends there. He had to constantly fight the urge to kiss her mouth whenever he saw her, settling for her hand or forehead as they parted ways.

His nights were filled with dreams of her: dancing with her, kissing her, holding her as she told him stories from her day. In the mornings, he would pine for her, missing her closeness. Then he would chastise himself for being so sentimental.

One morning, Loki was sitting at his desk in his office, staring out the window overlooking the palace grounds. He kept getting distracted from his work by thoughts of Sigyn. His emotions were locked in battle inside his body.

He wanted to keep her for his own, but part of him wished he had never met her. It would be impossible to go back to his old life now. Meeting Sigyn has changed him somehow.

He knew she was special to him; he could deny it no longer. He could feel his affection for her as he talked with her. He could tell that his mischief excited her. And for reasons unknown to him, he believed she trusted him. She told him the story about her lover. She let herself be completely honest and vulnerable with him. He could have run to her parents and used the excuse that she was not a virgin to get out of the betrothal.

Furthermore, she did not balk as he told her about his first sexual encounter, a story he never told Thor. She listened to him without making him feel like he was being judged.

‘She is too good.’ He thought as he toyed with the quill in his hand.

He was distracted. His thoughts kept drifting off. He decided to take a walk. He needed to talk to his mother. He strolled the palace grounds slowly, eyes never leaving his boots as he made his way to her private garden. He found the Queen and her ladies tending to the roses.

“Ah, Loki, my sweet boy, what brings you this way?” Frigga smiled widely when she saw him approaching. Her smile quickly dropped when she got a look at his face. “Oh, no. What happened? What is the matter?” She pulled off her gloves and dropped them into her basket.

Loki bowed to the Queen and then quickly fell into her embrace. “Can I talk to you privately?” Loki asked, his head resting on her shoulder. Frigga patted his back and then motioned for her ladies to leave. Once alone, she led him to sit down on a stone bench.

“What is all this about? Did something happen with Sigyn?”

“No. Sigyn is fine.” Loki dropped his head into his hands and let out a frustrated groan. “I do not like having all these,” Loki waved both hands in front of his chest, “feelings. I understand work. I understand combat. I understand magic. There are rules, guidelines, and patterns. It is so much simpler.”

“Emotions are messy, my sweet.” Frigga rubbed the back of his head. “You cannot deny their existence just because they do not fit into the little boxes in which you want to keep them.”

“I thought I knew how I wanted my life to be. I had it all planned out. I was going to help Thor oversee the realm when the time came.

“He would marry, have heirs, hold court, and protect the realm. I would do all the real work of managing the kingdom behind the scenes. All the paperwork that he hates so much but is necessary to keep everything running smoothly. I would take lovers when it suited me and enjoy my life single. Simple. Uncomplicated.”

“And now?” Frigga rubbed Loki’s back.

“And now it is getting complicated.” Loki shook his head, “And now…” he ran a hand down his face, “this woman you put on my path, she is… occupying my thoughts day and night. She is complicating my plan, and frankly, Mother, I am quite pissed about it.”

“Loki, do you not think that that plan sounded rather…lonely?”

Loki scoffed, “Did you not hear the part about taking lovers?”

Frigga suppressed a laugh, “So, are you telling me that you are starting to develop some non-sexual affection for Sigyn?”

Loki grumbled, “I suppose.”

“And that is making you… angry?”

“Yes,” he replied gruffly.

“Well, that is quite the dilemma.” Frigga smiled. “Have you and Sigyn been able to spend time together outside the dining hall?”

“Once, Thor and I sat in on her training session the day after the betrothal feast.”

Frigga knitted her brows together, “Hmmm, no, that will not do. Let me see what I can arrange.” After a few quiet moments, she said, “Having a lover and being in love are two separate things entirely. You need a partner, someone to share your life with.”

“I share my life with Thor.”

“And it pleases me to no end to know that the two of you have such a special bond, but there is another kind of love you have been missing out on.”

“Oh, I seriously doubt that.”

Frigga rolled her eyes and slapped his hand, “I was not referring to your escapades, you cheeky boy.” She brushed a lock of hair behind his ear, “I know it was never in your plan to fall in love, but she is here now. This is an auspicious match. The Norns have spoken. Let yourself be happy.”

“At whose expense?” Loki looked to Frigga, “Sigyn is too good. I am too selfish. I will take from her more than I can give.”

“That is not true, Loki. Love changes people.”

“Love?” Loki scoffed, “This is a… momentary infatuation.” He cringed internally as he spoke the words.

“Oh, you are as stubborn as your father.” She stood and straightened her skirts. “Plan on dinner as usual tonight. Then I will get you some more private time with Sigyn so you may get to know each other better.”

Loki’s heart rate picked up at the thought of it. “I suppose that would be okay.” He stood and hugged his mother and kissed her on the cheek.

“Consider yourself fortunate, young man. In my day, this was not done. Courting consisted of negotiations between families. Sometime before the bride and groom were even born. I met your father on our wedding day.”

“Thank the Norns those archaic practices have gone by the wayside.” He gave his mother a soft smile, “And thank you for listening.”

She patted his cheek, “Anything for you, my darling boy. Now, stop fretting and get back to work. I will see you at dinner.”

Loki bowed and took his leave.

oOXOo

The next morning, he was pushing his eggs around on his plate with his fork when Margit came over to clear the table. “You have barely touched your breakfast.” She put the back of her hand on his forehead. “Are you feeling ill?”

“No, Margit.  I feel fine.  I am just not hungry.” Loki sat back in his chair. The air of melancholy surrounded him.

“What is the matter, My Prince?”

He sat thoughtfully, then asked, “Do you believe people can change?” Loki looked up at her, his eyes full of sadness.

“Oh, my sweet prince,” Margit sat beside him and put her hand over his, “if the motivation is great enough, yes, I do.”

“Do you know why you were hired to be my chambermaid? Mine specifically?”

Margit smiled, “I do.” She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. “The Queen decided it was time for you to take a wife and stop stuffing your sausage in every warm hole that passed you by.”

Loki laughed.

“It is true. I was hired to remove the temptation. There is no danger of you asking me to warm your bed.”

“Who says you are not tempting, Margit?” He gave her a mischievous grin.

“You tease but should have seen me in my prime.” She shimmied her shoulders. “I have stories that would even make you blush.”

“Oh, I have no doubt!” He smiled at her. “Tell me, Margit, when did you know you were ready to be married?”

She tapped her fingers on the table and thought. “When I met my Kristoffer. I cannot explain it exactly; I knew he was the one. Other men became less attractive to me. I dreamed of him at night. His happiness became a top priority to me. I knew he would be a good provider and protect me and our future children. Among other things.”

She studied his face, “Are you having doubts about Lady Sigyn?  Has she given you reason to doubt that she would be a good wife and mother?”

Loki leaned back in his chair. “No. Sigyn is perfect. Too perfect. The doubt lays with me.” He used his thumbnail to scrape at a drop of dried jam on the table. “Maybe I will not be a good husband. And fatherhood?” Loki exhaled heavily and shook his head. “What kind of example would I be to a child?”

“A child does not care about the past. They come into this world completely helpless and vulnerable. They only know and care about what they can observe. If you wish to set a good example, decide to be a good example.  It is quite simple. You can teach them that anyone can learn from their mistakes and correct the course that they are on if they truly desire to do so.”

“Part of me wants to keep my life the way it is. Isn’t that terribly selfish?”

“It is not selfish. It is comfortable for you because you do not know any difference. It is common to fear change, especially major changes like getting married and starting a family. But if I may offer you a word of advice, Your Highness?” He nodded for her to continue. “Marriage does not look the same to every couple. If I were you, I would talk to Lady Sigyn and see what she expects from you. Ask her what she thinks constitutes a successful union.”

Loki nodded, “Thank you, Margit.”

“Don’t mention it, My Prince.” She stood and started clearing the table.

It was then that Thor poked his head in the front door. “Loki?” He walked in and made his way over to the dining room. “Am I too late for breakfast?”

Margit put the plates back down on the tray and curtsied deeply.

“Thor, I am pleased to introduce you to my new chambermaid, Margit.”

“Ah, the lovely Margit. I finally got to meet you in person. I have heard many wonderful things about you.” Thor took her hand and kissed it.

Margit blushed a deep scarlet, “Your Highness. Oh my.” She brought her free hand up to her cheek. “My, how you are the spitting image of your father when he was young.”

Thor gave her a wink and sat down across from his brother.

“Would you like me to fetch you a fresh platter, Your Highness?” Margit asked, flustered.

“Thank you, my lady, I have already eaten, but I appreciate the offer.” He snatched a few strips of bacon from Loki’s plate, “No sense letting these go to waste, though.”

Margit curtsied again and made her way out of the room with the breakfast tray.

“Nice lady.”

“She is a character. She reminds me of Nanny Anette.”

“There is a name I have not heard in a long time. I wonder if she is still alive?”

Loki shrugged. His dour mood was still evident.

“When was the last time you worked out?” Thor nudged Loki’s foot with his boot.

“I cannot recall.”

“Come with me to the training grounds this morning. A good sweat will do wonders for your mood.”

“Hmm…I suppose. Although, I would rather work up a good sweat with a warm body under me.”

Thor laughed and stuffed the last of the bacon in his mouth. “Come! Let us get your endurance built back up for your wedding night.”

Loki rolled his eyes, not wanting to argue. “I guess I will go change.”

“That’s a good man.” Thor clapped him on the back as he stood.

oOXOo

Thor did not take it easy on him. He pushed him to his physical limit repeatedly. Loki lamented the weeks he spent poisoning his body as Thor demanded more and more from him.

Loki was determined to do everything he was instructed: cardio, push-ups, pull-ups, squats, crunches, lunges, more cardio, and sparring. All the while, Thor was right beside him, shouting encouragements or correcting his form.  By the end of the training session, Loki was lying on the dirt, gasping for air.

“You did well today, Brother.” Thor was smiling down over Loki’s prone body.

“I don’t remember this hurting so much.”

“If you think it hurts now, just wait for tomorrow.” Loki groaned, and Thor held out his hand and helped him to his feet. Loki peeled his shirt off as it was soaked with sweat and sticking to his body. He heard the faint sound of giggles and turned to see Sigyn and her ladies’ maids leaning against the fence.

“How long have they been standing there?”

“I do not know.” Thor raised his hand and waved to Sigyn, “Go talk to her. I will see you at dinner.”

Loki nodded and clapped Thor on his back. He slung his shirt over his shoulder and walked toward the girls. Sigyn sent her maids away, stepped up on the first rung of the split rail fence, and held her arms open to him.

She wore a soft yellow dress with thin straps that wound over her shoulders and around her bodice. The color complimented her tanned skin nicely. Her dark hair was half up, half down, and her fringe was parted in the middle, framing her face.

‘She is mine.’ Loki felt his heart stutter as he took in the sight of her, holding her arms open impatiently as he strolled over to her.

“You want a hug?”

She nodded eagerly.

“I will get your pretty dress all dirty.”

“Shut up and kiss me, Your Highness.”

A wide grin broke out on his face. He wrapped his arms around her and crashed his lips onto hers. She kissed him like she was starving; he was the most decedent dish she had ever tasted. She kissed him ravenously.

“I have missed your lips on mine. Do not keep them from me for so long again.” She finally managed to speak after she rested her forehead against his. She was breathing heavily. She ran her fingers over his bare shoulders. With the wooden fence rail between them, Loki pulled back and looked into her eyes. They were full of want as she stared at his bare chest.

“I have as well, kitten,” Loki smiled at her. He traced her cheek with the back of his knuckles and kissed her again. Slowly and sweetly this time. “What brings you by, sweet Sigyn?”

“We usually walk the palace grounds every day after breakfast. Imagine my sheer delight as I noticed you training from a distance. I had to come closer to be sure it was you. I have never seen you with your hair up before.” She rubbed the back of Loki’s neck with one hand and touched his top knot with the other. “I like it.” She ran her hands over his shoulders and squeezed his freshly pumped-up biceps.

She lowered her voice, “Seeing you half-naked was good fortune as well.”

Loki claimed her mouth again, forgetting they had an audience, and twisted his hands in her hair. He let out a low moan as Sigyn pressed herself closer to his body.

Thor cleared his throat beside them, “Pardon me, but the two of you are distracting my recruits.”

Sigyn was startled and stepped down off the fence. She curtsied, “Your Highness, my apologies. I… I… um, got carried away.” Her cheeks and chest were flushed, hair mussed.

Thor laughed. “No worries, My Lady.”

Loki turned his back to adjust his arousal in his trousers and pull his shirt back on. His hair fell from his top knot, so he pulled the leather cord out and retied it.

“I should leave. My intention was not to interrupt.”

Thor chuckled, “Lady Sigyn, you were no interruption. I was thoroughly finished kicking Loki’s ass.”

“Yes, yes. Very funny. Thank you, Thor, for training with me. You may go now.”

“I will take my leave. I will see you two at dinner.” Thor turned and made his way back toward the armory.

“You are a wicked temptress.” Loki was climbing his way over the fence.

“Me? You are the one out here stripping your clothes off,” she said as he hopped down beside her. She put her hands on his stomach. His cotton t-shirt was sweaty and damp, clinging to his abs and pecs. “What was I supposed to do? Not throw myself at you? I don’t think so.” She ran her hands from his stomach to his chest.

Loki took a deep breath, “Sigyn…” he took her hands.

“I know. I’m sorry.” She looked at him with her big green eyes, “I am trying to be good. I am. I do want to get to know you better before we… wed. But…” She ran her index finger from his shoulder, over his bicep, down his arm, and back to his hand, “…it is proving to be more difficult than I anticipated.”

Loki’s jaw clenched, and he squeezed her hands tightly. “Sigyn, I am exhausting every ounce of my willpower as to not to lead you into the tree line and take you up against that large oak.” Sigyn let out a tiny groan and bit her lip. “But I also want to get to know you better.” Loki traced her cheek with his thumb, getting lost in her eyes. “Perfect…” he leaned down and kissed her lips.

“Loki, I am not p-” he claimed her mouth again. He kissed her so sweetly she forgot what she was going to say. “Loki…”

“Yes, kitten?” He kissed the back of her hand as they started walking toward the palace.

“Um… yes. I was going to tell you that your mother and I are having lunch together tomorrow.”

“Really? Just the two of you?”

“Just the two of us. I am surprised my mother agreed to it.” She smiled widely. “She would be incensed to know I was here with you now. With no witnesses.

“One night, I overheard her talking with Papa after she thought I was asleep.” She giggled, “She thinks you will try and steal my virtue, then flee from the capital again.”

Loki shook his head, “That sounds like something I would do.”

“Your reputation precedes you.”

“There is my reputation to think about.” Loki turned to face her, “I cannot have everyone knowing I was brought to heel by a pretty girl with pretty eyes and pretty hair and pretty skin…” Loki caressed her cheek and kissed her mouth, “and pretty lips.”

“Stop trying to make me forget your earlier comments.” She took his hands in hers. “Loki, I am not perfect.”

“Yes, you-” He went to protest, but she interrupted him.

“Loki! I am not perfect. You cannot be blind to it. I have a temper. I am impetuous. I am jealous, possessive, and sometimes I am very selfish. I am a little spoiled and used to getting my way. Those are just the things that I am aware of. I am sure there are many more. Quit putting me on a pedestal. I will shatter if I fall.”

Loki rubbed her arms. “Of course. You are right. Although, I do think it is sexy when you get jealous.” He studied her for a moment, thinking of something Thor had said.

“How do you feel about puppies?”

“What?” She looked at him like he had just sprouted a second nose. “What are you-”

“Just answer the question. Puppies? Would you ever kick a puppy? You know, for fun?”

“I would never be cruel to any animal. Loki, what-”

“Good! Now, let me see your feet.”

“You are certifiably insane. Get away from me!” She laughed as she pushed away from him and took off running through the grass.

“I need to confirm a theory!” Loki yelled as he gave chase.

Sigyn ran ahead of him as fast as she could, gathering up her dress to run faster. When she heard him gaining ground, she started zigzagging and trying her best to evade him. There was nowhere to hide in the open field of grass, so she stopped abruptly and spun away from his grasp as he sailed past her. She took off running in the opposite direction as Loki skidded and corrected course. She was almost to the tree line when he scooped her up from behind.

“Got you!” He panted as they fell to the grass. He rolled her onto her back and pinned her to the ground, arms above her head. He had both of her wrists manacled in one of his large hands. She was breathing heavily, and the tops of her breasts threatened to spill from her bodice. Loki’s body was angled toward her, one long leg slung over her hips to keep her still.

Sigyn’s lungs were burning. Her skin was on fire. The adrenaline from the chase was still coursing through her. Loki was looming over her, careful not to put any weight on her. She wanted to reach up and touch him so badly. She wriggled her wrists desperately, trying to free herself, but his grip was like a vice; she could not budge.

Loki grinned down at her and brushed her hair out of her face with his free hand. “I would have caught you sooner if I had not just exhausted myself training.”

“Are you sure about that?” She grinned back and tried to free herself again.

“I will gladly chase you again, kitten. Just to put that theory to the test, of course.” Loki left his hand on the side of her face, waiting for his breathing to slow down.

“Well, you caught me. What are you going to do now?” She licked her lips and dropped her gaze to his mouth. His lips were parted, his cheeks were flushed, and he was still slick with sweat. If there was a time when she was more aroused, she could not recall it. She canted her hips upward, pushing herself against Loki’s leg.

“Hmmm. So many possibilities.” He ran his hand from the side of her face to her throat. He gave her a gentle squeeze. She gave a little moan and tilted her hips again. Loki’s eyes darkened with lust, and the ocean blue of his irises all but disappeared. He dragged his gaze from her eyes, over her chest, and slowly down the rest of her body. The end of her dress was bunched up under Loki’s leg. Sigyn’s long, smooth legs were bare on the grass and bathed in the sunlight. Loki’s breath hitched, “You are so lovely.” His voice was barely above a whisper. He moved his hand from her throat and pressed it over her heart. He could feel it beating through her chest.

“Free me, Loki. I want to touch you.”

He lowered his mouth to her ear, “That would be very unwise of me, kitten. I must not be further distracted from my mission.”

Sigyn let out a frustrated groan and squirmed again. “And what would that mission be, exactly?”

He grinned at her mischievously, “Kick off your slippers, and I will tell you.”

Sigyn laughed, “What?! No!”

“I will not release you until you show me your feet.”

Sigyn was laughing hardily now. All the intensity of the last few minutes was gone. “Tell me why I should do such a thing, deviant.”

“Kick your slippers off, and I will release you.”

“Is this a trick? Why do you want to see my feet?”

Loki rolled his eyes, “I told you; I need to confirm a theory. Now, do as I say, or I may have to resort to tickling you.” He moved his hand to her side and gave her a little squeeze.”

She bucked and squirmed, “No, please don’t tickle me. I will scream. We are not in the position to be drawing attention to ourselves.”

“Very well, remove your shoes for me, pretty please.”

“Fine.”

Loki watched as Sigyn toed her slippers off. As promised, he released her wrists and sat up. She propped herself up on her elbows and watched as he picked up each foot and inspected them. She could not help but jerk her foot away as Loki ran his index finger down the arch of it.

“Just as I thought,” He said while he pulled her dress back down to cover her legs, “physically perfect from your head to your toes.” He laced his fingers behind his head and laid back in the grass.

Sigyn sat up, put her left shoe on, and smacked Loki on the leg with her right before returning it to her foot. “That was entirely unnecessary.” She couldn’t help smiling while she scolded him.

“It was very necessary.” Loki closed his eyes and raised his face to the sun, basking in the warmth.

Sigyn sat beside him and studied his face, memorizing every detail. He was beautiful. He was more beautiful in person than in the royal family portrait in her father’s feasting hall. It was a stark contrast to how he looked when they first met. ‘Could that have been just twelve days ago?’ Sigyn wondered to herself. It felt like much longer than that to her. She felt like they were old friends finally reconnecting after so many years apart.

The longer she stared, the more she found attractive: the way his lower lip was fuller than his top lip, the shape of his jaw, his perfect nose, the shape and position of his ears, the color of his hair, those cheekbones.

‘Oh, those cheekbones, mmmm.’ She resisted the urge to touch his face. She was feeling the heat radiating from her center. She wanted him. She wanted him more than she had wanted anyone before.

His solid masculine features paired nicely with his powerful but lithe body. And his hands, ‘Norns, his hands!’ she felt her heart rate quicken.

His hands were large and strong while being gentle and graceful at the same time. They were her favorite asset on him. Although… her eyes wandered to his hips. He did have the cutest butt she had ever seen, sitting on top of those muscular thighs. She bit her lip and suppressed a moan. This was torture.

“Loki?” she asked sweetly.

His eyes were still closed as he smiled and answered, “Yes, kitten?”

“If I told you I had a problem, would you help me resolve it?”

“If it were in my power to do so, I would, yes.”

“Hmmm.”

They were quiet for a few minutes, listening to the birdsong in the nearby trees and the leaves rustling in the warm breeze.

The corner of Loki’s mouth twitched up, “Do you have a problem that I may be able to help with, sweet Sigyn?”

She gave an overly dramatic sigh, “I suppose not.” She reached over and placed her hand lightly on Loki’s stomach.

He peeked one eye open. She gave him a sweet smile and then turned to the open field. “It is a beautiful day today.”

“Mm-hmm.” He watched her for a moment, then closed his eyes again.

She started drumming her fingers on his abdomen. He was suddenly aware of how close her hand was to the top of his trousers. “Sigyn?”

“Hmmm?”

“What are you doing?”

“Enjoying spending time with you, My Prince.” She gave him another sweet smile. She started drawing tiny circles on his belly lightly with her fingertip. His abs tightened as she tickled him.

Loki sat up and caught her hand in his, “Sigyn…”

“Loki.” She yanked her hand from his, “Sorry.” She stood and started straightening her dress. “Sorry, I should go. I need a cold bath and a snack. My mother probably already has half the palace out looking for me.”

“Wait,” Loki stood and wrapped his arms around her from behind. “Do not walk away angry.”

“Oh, Loki,” she rested her arms over his, “I am not angry. I am just frustrated.” She lowered her voice to a whisper, “I just want you so badly.”

Loki tightened his arms around her, “I promised my mother that I would keep my hands to myself and treat you like a Lady.”

Sigyn scoffed, “I made no such promise.”

Loki laughed, “I am sorry, kitten. I would never have made that promise if I had known how sweet your kisses were.”

Sigyn turned, wrapped her arms around his waist, and put her head on his shoulder. “Loki?”

“Hmmm?” He was rubbing his hands up and down her back.

“I know this is none of my business, as we are not yet married, but I am curious.”

“About what, sweetling?”

“Are you… Do you have… Is there someone you are…” She swallowed hard, “Are you seeking pleasure with someone else?”

Loki froze.

“I am sorry. I should not have asked you that. I should go get cleaned up.” She made to move away, but Loki stopped her. He put one hand on her shoulder and used his other hand to guide her face to look him in the eye.

“No. I am very celibate at the moment. I have not had a lover since I met you. In fact, the thought has not even crossed my mind. Which, if we are being honest, is very out of character for me.” He kissed her gently on the lips.

She smiled at him, and he thought he might burst into flames. “Good. I am glad to hear it. Now, could you do me a favor and not look so damn good all the time? And maybe turn down the charm a little?”

“I will see what I can do. Let us get you back to the palace.” Loki took a step back from her and assessed her appearance. Her dress was wrinkled, and the back was covered in grass stains. Her hair was mussed, and her skin was dirty from Loki’s hands.

He cupped his hand under her chin, and a shimmer of green light fluttered over her body. “There we are. Much better.” He said as he put her right again.

“Thank you, Your Highness.” She held her arms out in front of herself and inspected them. She looked at Loki and cocked her head to the side. Her eyes were dancing with mischief, “Race me back to the palace?”

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

Tag List: @gigglingtiggerv2 @superficialdomina @chantsdemarins @lokisgoodgirl @lokischambermaid @smolvenger @acidcasualties @muddyorbsblr @trickster-maiden @simone818283 @gruftiela

[written-in-flowers]

Something ive always wanted to see with Otto and Rosebud's family is how does Otto hang out with little Cedric? Would he carry him around the red keep or sit with him during council meetings when theres nothing serious on the agenda? Take him to the stables and watch horses? Keep Cedric's drawings in his office?! You have no idea hod often do i think about this little family 💚💚💚

Oh gossshhhhh I've been wanting to write some fluffy domestic stuff with this universe, so this is my chance!

Note: as of the newest installment "In the Dunes" , Cedric Hightower is three-years old. In these headcanons, the Greens kids are still teens, since I'm going based off of the age-group in the last part of the series.

***

Otto often remembers his time with his eldest son, Gwayne, whenever he holds or spends time with Cedric. Cedric certainly has more Hightower than Tyrell with his dark ginger curls and brown eyes, but he had your temperament. Or so Otto believes whenever he giggles or smiles. It still amazes him that he's doing the parenting thing all over again at his age, something he did not plan on until he married you. When people reach a certain age, they don't feel like going through the troubles of child caring again, but with you at his side, he feels just as confident than he once did.

He does spend time with his son in the family apartment, watching over him fondly and cuddling him whenever you're occupied or tired. He buys him small toys that are usually fit for toddlers: small wooden blocks, wooden knights and horses (especially horses), and even a wooden play sword that Cedric likes to swing around aimlessly.

He's a father of two already. He has experience with babies, even if they do have mothers and wet nurses to care for them. When Cedric cries, he can usually guess what the problem is: hungry, changing, or sleepy. Having a sister significantly younger than you and nephews and nieces, you've learned the basics of raising infants, but Otto knows the ins and outs.

You sometimes find him comforting a weeping Cedric in his solar. He'll have the boy cuddled to his chest, soothing him with back rubs while writing to Lord Whoever about Very Important Thing. He only hands him off to you when Cedric has fully calmed down, then goes back to work.

If this boy ever gets sick, Otto gets hourly reports about his illness when he is not around. When he is there, he does what he can to relieve any discomfort his baby boy might be having.

He isn't a man to be annoyed by a crying infant or have very little patience when they do not stop. It does rob him of sleep when Cedric wakes in the middle of night, but he never shows he's upset or angry. He simply lets you handle it, watching you sing him back to sleep in between you, since he refuses to sleep anywhere else after a nightmare.

We know little Ced loves horses. The calf you'd chosen when Cedric was an infant is now a grown pony, and Otto often takes him out riding whenever there is a hunting party or a trip into the forest. He loves seeing Cedric ride because it's the first thing a proper nobleman learns to do as he is growing up.

Since he's only 3-years-old, Cedric cannot hold a proper sword or learn any other martial skills, so Otto focuses on the academic side. He reads to Cedric, usually about history or The Faith or House Hightower. He used a book from Alicent's childhood to show him shapes and colors, teaching him how to say them properly. He showed Cedric pictures of animals or maps of different places, pointing out things and teaching him how to say the words. His son will be educated as well as strong.

Now, just because Cedric is a Hightower, does not mean he's isolated from the rest of his family. Alicent dotes on her younger brother, and showers him with sisterly love at all times; you and Cedric spend a lot of him in her rooms with Helaena and Aemond. Helaena herself sewed a dragonfly pillow for Cedric, and it immediately became his favorite pillow; she likes to give him her one of her many fidget toys to keep him occupied for short periods of time. Aegon doesn't dote or coddle his "baby uncle" like everyone else, but he may have once let Cedric drink from his wine cup when nobody was looking. Aemond sometimes reads to him as well, stoking Cedric's interest in dragons, and tried teaching him chess once. Daeron has met Cedric on a handful of occasions, and loves to play games with him, and showing him books about knights and legends.

And for the sake of utter cute, fluffy visuals: a clingy Cedric may have waddled behind his father into the small council chamber one day when you weren't paying attention to him. Since Alicent heads most of the meetings in her husband's place, she has no problem with Cedric remaining there until the end on the less important days. Otto likes to think one day Cedric himself might sit in Otto's seat, or on any of the council positions.

Cedric is a baby boy who is utterly surrounded by love from people who think themselves incapable of it for a time. All the things that happened to them, they will not let happen to Cedric, the purest and sweetest of them all.

A/N: feel free to send in more cute things because otherwise I'll start rambling about them in blank posts lmao

[tahanann]

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐋𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬: 𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮

❝ To whoever finds these letters, I hope they reach you well ❞ ✎▫✧⭒....

Fandom: Hetalia Relationship: F/M Pairing: Alfred F. Jones (America) / (Female) Reader Chapter list: 00, 01, 02, 03, 04, 05, 06, 07, 08, 09, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14 Also posted on: AO3, Wattpad, Quotev

Chapter 13: " He's gone. " ✎▫✧⭒…

Everything in the world was still right now. The heat had recently swept through (Y/n)'s city, causing an overwhelming amount of warmth in the streets. A slight cold breeze had been a saving grace to the citizens having to deal with the current heatwave. Many people were in their homes or visiting malls to cool off. Lazing around was a popular activity for those who chose to stay in their homes.

(Y/n) was included in that bunch.

The young woman had been laying down on a picnic blanket underneath a tree in her backyard. The tree had been there ever since she's gotten this place and it was certainly a favorite of hers. The branches, with or without their leaves, gave her company whenever she had restless nights. It had been like a friend, who trudged through, giving the shadows that covered her from the moon's light. 

Her eyes stare up at the tree, watching little critters run around. Squirrels had made this tree their home. The sun's rays peeked through gaps between leaves, illuminating some of (Y/n)'s features.

Despite the radiance she received from the sun, she was as dull as ever. The young woman still struggled with her mental health but she took advice from her parents and close friends. She had to cave in because the days had been getting rather difficult to trudge through. With a bit of therapy and support from everyone, things have been much more bearable. 

Work was going smoother now and she was able to socialize as much as before. Felicia and Matthew had been giving her some food through their countless house visits over the past few weeks. Her separated parents found time to call her to check in after she told them about her struggles. They were caring, understanding, and kind. 

They had promised to look after her years ago and they were fulfilling it. 

It was safe to say that (Y/n) was surrounded by people that loved her, but the same can't be said for her love life. Her relationship with her main romantic interest was blurry right now. Her heart ached for a man who likely has a wife and grandchildren by now, but he was possibly not even alive anymore. Either way, the bridge she had built cannot even reach her destination. A restless fog had covered her sights for the end of the bridge. 

It was impossible to cross.

This relationship had been the main source of her misery and (Y/n) had been aware of it for so long. She always thought she could make it work and she fails to see that it has been steering in the wrong direction. The young woman devoted her love to a man that, she believed, loves her back. No one else but Matthew and Felicia knew about this. 

Thank god her parents didn't know. They'd tell her to fully detach herself from him, which seems like something she just can't do. She loved him too much and there was a lot to lose, seeing how her mental health hinges on the very thought of him.

Jones. 

(Y/n) shook her head, dismissing her thoughts. She cannot let herself get lost thinking about him again. Closing her eyes, she let out a sigh, before she opened them once more. The sun was still there, the sky was still as blue as ever, and the tree was still green and brown. She was still laying on a picnic blanket with containers of food surrounding her. 

Evidence of her picnic with Matthew earlier today. 

After a while of sky-watching, the young woman sits up. She pushes her hands through her hair as she adjusts to her new position. She blinked once, twice, three times, before continuing to push herself up to a stand. She gathered the remnants of today's activity and headed into her cold home. The backyard lays dormant for the rest of the afternoon, as (Y/n) once again cooped up in her house. 

The tv in the dark living room played noise in the background as she cooked dinner for one, with a little extra to be served as leftovers for tomorrow. The warm, orange light of the kitchen illuminates her form, but she remains cold always. The heat had left her home as soon as the sun disappeared. The temperature was deathly cold.

Her hands weren't shivering, but there was a chill pressed against her back, overseeing her chop vegetables and put them all in a pot. (Y/n) paid no mind to the presence, as she had been accustomed to it. The cold was always there, hugging her whenever possible. It lived here with her, almost like a partner, and she's grown to love it. 

As a matter of fact, she's always been in love with it. 

She only saw him once, but she always felt him. He was here, always stalking her during the night and disappearing for the morning. The moon energized him, (Y/n) believed), and she was fine with it. She supposed she could use the company.

(Y/n) hummed softly to herself as she finished cooking. It was done now and she could finally dine in the comfort of her living room. Wherever she went, the cold drifted alongside her. It sat beside her on the couch as she played something on the tv to keep her distracted from her thoughts. She ate her dinner, watched for a little while, and eventually went away to follow her usual nightly routine.

Afterward, she rested on her bed, her eyes staring at the abyss. The light of the moon seeped through the gaps between the leaves of the tree and the window, illuminating the area just a bit. It wasn't enough to keep the apparitions from appearing above her. 

Beside her was her phone, playing a random song to fill up the silence. Her (e/c) eyes continue to gaze at the darkness. She tried finding the sparkle of broken glasses again, though he did not appear. Not after that other night, after her dad's visit, did he appear again. The specter she wanted to believe was Jones never showed itself to her again. The ghosts that she saw tonight were the cells in her eyes, floating around in their liquid casing. 

Although she can't see him, she could feel him. The room is still as cold as ever, even if she had her blanket around her. There wasn't a hint of pressure beside her, but he was somewhere here. Watching her, protecting her, she'd liked to believe. The company didn't make her fall asleep, however. There was anxiety gnawing her insides. 

There were only two letters left in the box, and the decline Jones has been going through has not been bright. There were a few light-hearted letters but (Y/n) felt as if that was an attempt to make himself feel better. The war wasn't going well, or at least that's what Jones believed. (Y/n) feared that the last two letters will be anything but good news.

She had every right to think about it that way. 

Even if it was going to be good news, it'll end terribly for her. She'd lose him. The letters are all she had of the soldier.

The young woman continued to stare at the ceiling, letting her fears chew her insides. Eventually, through fatigue, she would fall into a deep sleep, only to wake early in the morning. The sun barely peeked through the horizon. The room was still cold, but only because of the morning chill that occupied her home. The presence that watched over her was gone. (Y/n) was truly alone in her room. 

The (h/c)-haired lady stayed in her room for a few hours, unmoving from her position. She'd pondered and imagined scenarios in her head to make her feel better. It distracted her from the gloom that came with opening the second to last letter. When she had enough energy, she stood up and proceeded with her morning routine. 

There, in the bathroom, she felt him. A cold spot was in the corner, and behind the shadows of her door, she saw a figure. The glint was barely visible, but she could make out his form. (Y/n) stared at the apparition, connecting eyes with him for a moment, before he would fade into the darkness of the shadow. From the mirror, she continued to maintain eye contact. Her body was unmoving, fearing if she did move, he would too. 

Her heart ached. 

"Come back, I want to see you," she'd say. This was the second time she'd see him. But the ghost wouldn't comply, for he had already expended energy to be slightly visible today. It may be that her eyes were just seeing things, but (Y/n) believed it was him. Her still body would eventually move to finish the rest of her routine. When she left, he'd appear within the darkness of her unlit bathroom. (Y/n) felt him move with her, just hovering around. 

She stared at the box that held the letters. The second one was sitting on her lap, ready to be opened, but her focus was on the last one that sat at the bottom of the box. Biting her lip, she turned her attention to the one already out of the container. She swallowed her emotions and ripped open the envelope. She didn't want to scan the letter.

It was all going to be the same.

"Good morning, Jones," (Y/n)'s voice cracked at the mention of his name. "How are you feeling?"

She already knew the answer.

To my darling angel, The operation at the beach was a success, but unfortunately, angel, I'm heavily wounded. I don't think I have that much time to live and I'm okay with that, honestly. I've come to accept that my death is nearing. There's not that much for me to live for anyway. Alex...he's gone. He died the day we stormed the beach. He told me he was going to live but he immediately got shot the moment the ramp opened. It's only been a few days since I last saw him but his image is still burned into my memory. Him, along with the annoying thoughts continue to haunt me. I think death is the only way to get them out of there. I'm the only one left out of my friends anyway. Nobody at home will miss me too much. All my friends are dead because of me and I can't handle the guilt of it all. I can't. It's always been my fault. I've already told Ma and Pa about giving up. They tell me to keep living, but it's hard. I don't want to have them deal with me. I know by the time I come back home, I'm not going to have an easy life. I'm so fucked up, it'll be so hard for me to get accustomed to civilian life again. I'll have so many problems and I don't want Ma and Pa dealing with all of that. I'd rather just get rid of the problem and spare them the trouble. I would live for you but I think it'd be useless. You don't love me anymore. You don't even think about me anymore, so what's the point? You've already, probably, tossed the letter aside. But that's okay. I understand. I won't hold any grudges against you because I know it's hard to love me. If you ever live with me after the war, you'd have the same problems as Ma and Pa. Leaving would make everyone feel better. I'll still love you regardless, even in my dying breath, my angel, I'll still love you. I've always told myself that I'd be your protector, so maybe, if God is good and great, he'll let me. At night, I'll be there, to make sure you're safe and happy. Maybe I can watch over you. I'd forever be the moon to your stars, my darling. I've been in and out of consciousness, or so I've been told. I've been in this med-bay for a while now and I know I can't make it out of here alive. It's kind of funny. I've always wondered what it was like to have death at my doorstep. I thought he'd be cold and overbearing, but he's actually a pretty sweet guy and gives people warmth and comfort whenever they need it. I feel him everywhere in this warm medical bay. He's always been by my side, waiting for my time and I'm afraid that it's already nearing. He sits on my bed and watches over me like the nurses and doctors that tend to my wounds every day.  He's here with me right now while I'm writing this letter. He's telling me that I should write down everything I want to say to you. He's telling me to snap out of it though, but how can I? The very thought of you gives me comfort. Maybe one day, I will, but for as long as I breathe, I'll forever think about you. My vision is fading, baby. I pray to God he'll let me write to you once more. Just one more day, angel, and maybe another. I want to see you again in my dreams. Maybe he'll let me since I can sleep peacefully now. Forever yours, Jones

(Y/n) looked at the letter in her hands, resonating with his acceptance. Her hands tightly gripped the paper as she stared at his writing. It was messy in some parts, but he tried to be neat. There were tear stains on the aged paper. The young woman had a feeling that, even if he said he accepted death, there was a part of him that didn't want to go. He was still in his youth. He wanted to live but what he went through made it impossible for him. 

The (h/c)-haired woman doesn't know the extent of his injuries, but the way he put it, he was gravely wounded. Even if he could be honorably discharged, his wounds make living life impossible. (Y/n) hated having to think about him in this state, but that's all she had in her mind. The thought of him being confined to a bed all his life, drinking medicine to overcome the pain.

It hurt her.

Though, the thought of him dying too, hurt her just as much. 

(Y/n) placed the letter against her lips, giving him her usual send-off. "I pray for your recovery, Jones," the young woman would say. She knew the inevitable was coming, but she wanted to believe that he was able to change his mind and fight for his life. The last letter in the box might be proof that he's moved on from his beloved and he went on to live a long, prosperous life. 

Despair lingered around her as she tucked the piece of paper back into its envelope. She stared at the aged paper for a bit before hiding it in her drawer. She lingered at her bed for a moment, as she felt a presence surround her. She could only smile before she'd shed a tear and cry out the emotions in her chest. 

She'd muster her feelings at some point and put them all in a bottle for future use. (Y/n) left her bed, with her phone in her hand, and went to the bathroom to freshen up once more. She put on a bit of makeup and redness-correcting eyedrops to mask the fact that she ended up crying this morning. A notification ping echoed in the bathroom.

Matthew must be here. 

He organized another hang-out with her today because he said he was feeling "a bit lonely". (Y/n) knew it was just a way for him to check up on her. He was aware that they were coming up on the last few days of her obsession. He wanted to make sure that she can get out of this situation alive and well. With the way (Y/n)'s been acting, both of them knew that it'll end in an emotional spiral. Matthew wanted to be there for her when that happens. 

The young woman stared at her appearance in the mirror and tugged the corners of her lips to fabricate a smile. It was good enough to wear. She sent her friend a text saying that she was going to get ready. She changed her clothes, fixed her hair, and made her way out with her belongings at hand. Matthew was standing outside her door, holding his fluffy, white dog with the leash.

"Hey. There you are," Williams grinned as he sent a wave to his friend. "Come on. If we don't leave soon, the beach is gonna be filled with a ton of people and we won't have a spot for us." Kuma barked in agreement with his owner, causing (Y/n) to genuinely smile.

"I've already got my things so we can start heading out now." The young woman went over to the Canadian's car and placed her few things in the trunk. Kuma had already hopped onto the backseat, already secured and ready for the trip. (Y/n) rode shotgun with Matthew in the driver's seat. She was given the aux cord so she played whatever music interested her at the moment. 

The drive to the beach was long but comfortably quiet. Somewhere through the drive, (Y/n) managed to fall asleep. It may have been general fatigue that knocked her out, or maybe it was due to the crying session she had prior to the trip. Maybe it was simply a little bit of both. 

Matthew often looked to his side to check on his friend. His focus was on the road, sure, but when they were stopped at a light, he would take his glances. A sigh left him when he saw signs of what happened to her before he appeared at her door steps. Despite her going to therapy, it was still taking a toll on her. Matthew would know. He's been there before, though it wasn't as heavy hitting as hers. 

He's always pondered how she got here, but he never fully dwelled on the thought for too long. Many people have different ways of getting to that point. It would be hard for him to understand where she was. She was dealing with a tough situation and he was only going to be there to support her.

Not question her. 

The day was still relatively young when they arrived at the beach. It took them a while to get a parking spot but they were here. Just the two of them, at the beach. Other people were near the shore, like families and couples that took their afternoon strolls. (Y/n) sat around with Kuma as Matthew set up most of their things, from the umbrella to the cooler that held the snacks he prepared earlier today.

Kuma panted, feeling the heat warm him up. With a dog that had such a thick coat, he was barely surviving in this heat. What kept him going was the fan that had been pointed at his face. (Y/n) sat by the hound's side, staring at the clear blue water surrounding the grey beach. The sounds of people and the water comforted (Y/n), but there was a thought that stayed in her mind. 

Jones.

A few letters ago, he mentioned pretty beaches and how he's always wanted to visit one with his significant other. As she stared at the water that threatened to come by their towels, she thought of him and his wish. She wanted to fulfill that with him, but she wasn't his. She could be, in her mind, but in reality, she can't. 

Her eyes envisioned him with her. The image she's created of him may not be true to life, but this was her Jones. His glasses were pristine and his smile was stuck on his face. He wore his green uniform, his hat, and sparkling medals on his chest. He was with her and he was well. Though the image of him disappeared when Matthew called out to her.

"You're blanking out," the blonde told her. He sat in front of her, with his back turned toward the waves. "Here. I got some snacks from the cooler. I dunno if you've already eaten yet, but it'd be nice to have something for the stomach, you know." Matthew had a sweet smile on his face as he handed his friend the food he packed for today. (Y/n) stared at it and nodded her head.

"Thank you, Mattie." She'd take a bite and feel slightly better. She'd turn her gaze away to look at the spot Jones had been. Matthew noticed her look and did the same, finding no one near them, though he could find a couple playing in the water. Her eyes were still blank and it looked like she was having a hard time focusing on the moment.

"I know there's something on your mind, (Y/n)," Matthew confronted her. 

"I'm fine," she mumbled.

Matthew noticed the sign and decided to give up almost immediately. He'd wait for her to tell him. It's no use trying to pry open something that didn't want to be opened. He would sit next to his dog, Kuma, who was now laying down on the blankets. The fan that kept him cool was still whirring in front of him as he took his afternoon nap. 

The Canadian stared out to sea, watching the water crash onto the shore. (Y/n) was doing the same, except her eyes saw something different. Her beloved soldier was there, playing in the water, smiling at her. His speck of green stood out in the sea of blue.

She was seeing things. 

The duo shared the silence as they sat around. (Y/n) broke their peace by saying, "Did you know...the letters mentioned a beach." Matthew looked to his friend, his eyebrow arching, asking her to continue. 

"Jones...he wanted to go to the beach with his girlfriend," (Y/n) continued, "he was stationed at a beach when he wrote that letter. All he ever thought about was her, you know. It pains me a lot to think about it. How he might not even get to see her at a beach." The young woman hugged her legs, but her (e/c)-colored eyes continued to stare at the sea. 

"I opened another letter today. The second to last one." There was hesitance in her voice. "He's dying, Matthew. And I'm scared that the last letter- tomorrow's letter- might be his written will." The man she was talking to would continue to be silent so she could voice her thoughts. That's all she needed to do anyway, to make herself feel just a bit better.

"I don't want to lose him. You know this already. That last letter is going to be the death of me."

Matthew's periwinkle eyes stared at his friend as he listened to her. "You know you have to let him go eventually. You can't let some dead soldier hang onto you and break you like this, (Y/n)." He hated seeing her go through something as painful as this, especially since her pain is coming from a dead man. Matthew can't confront the dead. 

(Y/n) dipped her head and let out a muffled, "I know." Her heart broke just a bit when Matthew spoke to her. She knows he's right, but she's stubborn. She'll let Jones break her anyway. Matthew reached out to her and placed a hand on her back. He could feel her breaths becoming shallow. She was going to lose it. The blonde did his best to comfort her, through small rubs and pats on her shoulders. 

He'd help her with breathing exercises and they worked, for the most part. It's hard to get rid of her thoughts about Jones though. Matthew didn't know that the beach would have such an effect on her. He should have planned this outing better. A hum leaves the Canadian as he looked at his friend. The friends connected gazes and smiled at each other. 

"I'm okay," (Y/n) would tell him. They knew both she wasn't, but she was going to try and be better. Looking back at the sea, she'd spot the blue again. The speck of green was still there and the faint apparition of Jones lingered in the water. He no longer had a pristine uniform. Dried blood coated his haunting form and his glasses were cracked. She could never see his face but she always looked out for his smile. 

It wasn't there anymore.

(Y/n) stared at the figure in the water, before the wave crashed over him, making him disappear completely. The young woman's lips pursed together and forced a smile. She hasn't told anyone about the visions she's been seeing because she knew that people would think of her as insane. No one would believe her if she said she was being haunted by the object of her fascination.

They spent today's afternoon lazing around the shore under the umbrella and playing. They build sandcastles and buried each other under the sand to distract (Y/n) from her thoughts. At the end of it all, they walked Kuma down the shore, letting the heated pup wet his feet to cool down. Kuma ended up being drenched in seawater, which Matthew had to clean once they were home.

To say that the beach hangout was a success would be a lie, but (Y/n) enjoyed spending time with her friend, Matthew. The blonde walked her to her home and made sure to give her his usual send-off for the night. He gently wrapped his arms around her for an embrace and kept her close for a bit. (Y/n) relished the hug and laughed a little when she felt her friend squeeze her.

"Good night, Mattie," she would say.

"Good night, (Y/n)," he'd reply back. "I trust you. Please don't do anything bad."

"I won't."

The two friends drifted apart and sent each other their final waves for the night. (Y/n) disappeared inside her cold, dark home. She lingered in there for a moment with her eyes scanning her surroundings for a hint of green amongst the void. Nothing, per usual. She turned on the lights of her home and got ready for dinner and her nightly routine.

It was the same old. Nothing ever changed. 

The young woman would rest her head on her pillow and stare at the void that wrapped around her. She'd feel pressure at the foot of the bed, finding a glimpse of green. 

This is the third time- now.

He moved ever so slightly in the dark. His broken glasses gleamed underneath the moonlight. (Y/n) stared at him before she moved. Her hand met his bloodied fingers halfway and they lingered there.

He was cold, colder than her freezer, colder than the artic, but the smile he held was warm and comforting. The young woman couldn't tell if she was hallucinating things or if his apparition was truly there. He began to shift into a blur the more she stared at him. 

"Stay-" (Y/n)'s meek voice called out. His form could only smile.

Then he was gone. 

"No-" she'd whispered after. Her fingers curled into a fist as she hugged her legs. Tears swelled in her eyes as she cried. This night would leave her with no sleep, as her tears and thoughts kept her awake. There was no need to worry though. She doesn't have work for another day, anyway.

The sun would rob the moon's spotlight, filling the world with light. It would seep through the tree that hid (Y/n)'s window. The young woman was at her bed as still as a rock. Her eyes were unmoving, staring at the ceiling, and waiting for the day to pass. 

Today was the last day, then after that, no more letters. A year has passed already, but it didn't feel like it. 

She'd lose energy but she could never regain it. (Y/n) lacked the need to sleep as her mind was constantly busy. She'd move a limb, then another, until she's fully out of bed. She moved like the undead, trudging along her floor until she managed to limp to the bathroom. The darkness of it all gave her comfort. Her (e/c)-colored eyes looked for green but found nothing. 

With a sigh, she turned on her lights and continued what she would usually do in the morning. (Y/n) corrected the bags under her eyes and practiced smiling. She's been doing this for a while now and there hasn't been significant progress. She could never feel truly happy.

Approaching the final day made her more miserable. 

But unlike Jones, she has too much to live for. She needed to keep fighting whatever was bringing her down.

Once finished, she appeared in her bedroom again. (Y/n) looked at the spot she knew held the box. Her stare was intense and her body was as still as she could get. Anxiety filled her stomach immediately but she reached forward and opened it. 

The last letter sat comfortably in its spot, waiting to be opened. (Y/n) didn't want to, but she knew she had to. Biting her lip, she plucked it from the bottom. There was something odd about this one. It was heavier than the others. It threw the woman off, but she pushed forward and she gently ripped the envelope.

The letter had been folded neatly inside and there were a few souvenirs too. The young woman knew that the man enjoyed sending home gifts, but these were different. She opened the paper and found dog tags and a black and white photo. (Y/n) looked at the photograph first. 

There was a man posing for his photo. He appeared to have blonde hair and bright eyes with small, square glasses sitting atop his nose. His complexion was clear and pale but flushed cheeks. He had a gleaming smile that completed everything. He wore a dark uniform that held no badges or metals. The soldier was young, handsome, and didn't have a care in the world.

(Y/n) turned the photo around to find writing in pen that said, "Me! Send copies to Ma, Pa, and Mattie when able!" There was no mention of a feminine name anywhere, but that wasn't what she was hyper-fixated on right now. Her thoughts revolved around the idea that she can put a face to him now. Her heart jumped for joy, but at the same time, she brought herself down. 

This was the last letter. She can't envision him after this is over. The fact made her emotional, which was enough to put some tears in her eyes. She placed his photo down and looked at the dog tags that accompanied the letter. 

"Alfred F. Jones," she whispered. That was his name. Alongside it were numbers, his blood type, his religion, and another name, though this didn't seem like his girlfriend or anything. She was thinking it was his mother since it said "Mrs. F. Jones."

(Y/n) could be heard muttering his name over and over again. She still had the urge to call him Jones. Placing the memorabilia down, she turned her attention to the letter. It was pristine, but she finally noticed there were a few blood splotches on the edges. It's aged, dried blood, which was a cause of concern for her, but it didn't matter. 

None of it matters anymore. 

"Good morning, Alfred," she'd greet. It was much more personal now. "How are you doing, darling?" She'd try to make herself feel better, but the greeting caught her off guard. It sounded like he was distancing himself away. He didn't call her angel anymore.

To whoever finds these letters, I hope they reach you well. I don't have that much time left in me, but I'd like to write down my feelings and my thoughts. I'm not asking for big audience, but if there is one, and you're the one, please listen to me. That's all I ask. I've been given a lot of paper, so I have enough to put down everything. At least I think so anyway. They say I can always ask for more, but I doubt I can. Breathing is getting significantly harder for me, but I'm trying to live just so I can write. I'm trying to unpack so that in the next life, I'll be given a fresh start. I want to leave everything here in my old body. I don't necessarily believe in the afterlife or in reincarnation, but I just want to leave my baggage here. Experiencing the near end of my life has given me a lot to think about. I've always thought it's impossible to find clarity in death, but now I'm getting first-hand experience and I can't help but think it's funny. I used to think it was strange but now I'm going through it right now. I've found peace in knowing that I'm going to leave soon and that has given me a clear head. I hope this is the first letter you've read because the past ones, the ones that will be sent to my home with this one, are filled with nonsense from a grieving madman. I don't care if you send these letters to a museum, just don't send them to my parents. Send them specifically to my house. If they've seen that their son has gone utterly insane over the years would hurt so much. You can put this anywhere you want, actually, just as long as someone reads them. It could be you, it could be anyone willing to listen to me. I just want to be heard. I want to be seen. I want others to know how a man can suffer because of this war. I don't know when you'll be finding these. You could be reading this years after I die. Just- you know, if you do happen to see my letters, please treat them with care, or not. Throw them away, just- please read them or send them somewhere where people actually care. You can even send it to a museum or something.  Leave the rest of these letters unopened so the curators can read them. They'll treat these with care, that is if they are still in good health and these letters are legible, but if you want, you can also take care of them. I don't know why, though, but if you think it's fine then be my guest. But if this is the last letter you've read, then I have a few words to tell you. Thank you, and I'm sorry you've had the misfortune of knowing me. I appreciate the fact that you've read everything because that's all I needed. I just needed someone to listen to me, even if it'll take days or years for someone to find these. You could be anyone, really, and I wouldn't care who you are because regardless, I appreciate you. I'm grateful for your patience and your sympathy because the Lord knows someone like me doesn't deserve it. The thought of someone finding these letters and reading them is enough to make me happy on my deathbed. Thank you so much for taking the time of your day to listen to me and my stupid, incoherent ramblings. Hey, you've been with me the entire journey. You made it this far. If I caused something to you while you're reading the past few letters please know I didn't mean to hurt you. I appreciate your sympathy, I genuinely do, but I am deeply sorry for the pain I may have caused. I've caused too much to other people and the last thing I want is for another person to be hurt because of me.

There were tear stains on the next few pages, but they were still legible. The paper seems fresh too, but it looks somewhat aged.

My darling angel, This is to you personally. I know you're reading this because you've come this far and haven't discarded me yet. I have one thing to confess and I hope that you can listen to me and forgive me. I've hurt you the most and I realize this might hurt you even more. Please, I ask for you to forgive me and listen to the words I have to say. Throughout my life, I didn't think angels ever existed. I'm not a religious man myself, but through the course of the war, I've started to believe God placed an angel to watch over me. You kept me happy and made me sane when things were rough. But the thing is- You never existed. You were never a physical person. In a way, you made me go mad. With some clarity, I realize that creating you was just my brain reaching for ways to feel better. Maybe my silent prayers were heard and God actually placed an angel to be with me from the start. Maybe I willed you into existence. But- You initially came in a form of a joke. I pretended to have a girlfriend because I felt left out. I thought it was funny to pretend to have someone to love. The rest of my friends had their own girlfriends to write to, but I was the only one who didn't have one. So I decided to play along and pretend that you existed, but then the more I wrote to you, a person who doesn't even exist, you became something to me.  You never had a physical body because you stemmed from my imagination. I projected to you the qualities I had. I also gave you hobbies I wanted to see. I believed that you were listening to me because Lord knows that's all I needed while I was fighting this damn stupid war. I made myself fall in love with the idea of you, which is by far the stupidest but the best thing I've done in my life. While I was thinking of you, you felt so real to me. It came to the point where I thought you were a living, breathing person that could actually write back to me. Everyone else was getting letters and I didn't. Not getting anything from you made me frustrated, but I held on to you so much because you're all I had. It pains me that you never existed, because I would have loved you so much, wholeheartedly. I would have done everything for you because the idea of you made me so happy. You were my everything.  I find my words weird and crazy the more I write them now, but this is how I genuinely feel. I fell in love with a figment of my imagination, but if by some miracle, you truly exist, I would have loved to see you. To hold you, to bring you out on dates, to kiss you. I want to do everything with you and I hope that in another life, I get to meet you. God has to be merciful enough to give me another chance. Maybe I'll win the life lottery in the next one, eh? I genuinely am sorry for the pain I've caused you. I've tried making it up to you. I promised you that I'd be the moon to your stars, that I'd be there to protect you. I've done all I can. I don't know if I could ever become a ghost, or whatever the hell exists out there, but if I could, I would be there at night, watching over you. I'd keep any dangers away from you because I'd hate to see you get hurt.  I've already hurt you so much, I don't want anything else harming you.  I know it's a lot to unpack. I know I've rambled. I know I've said a lot of shit, but it's all how I feel. This is the baggage I'll leave this body. I know I don't have that much time anymore so I'll cut it here. Breathing is getting hard for me but hey, I think I'll die peacefully. Thank you, my darling. I hope I get to see you in another life. I'll find my way to you again. I promise. I love you. Lovingly, and always forever yours, Alfred

Silence hung in (Y/n)'s bedroom as she stared at the letter in her hands. He was right. There is a lot to unpack, but the young woman doesn't have enough strength to handle it right now. Her vision is blurred with her tears, which dripped down to the paper. Her hands were shaking and soon enough her body would follow. 

Heat seeped through her room, but the area in front of her was deathly cold. Rubbing tears from her eyes, she could see just a bit clearer. Before her was an apparition of Alfred. He wore a clean, green uniform with brand-new glasses. The rest of him was in black and white, mimicking his appearance in his photograph.

Alfred knelt in front of her with his hands cupping her own. He held his usual bright smile but tears also ran down his cheeks. 

"I love you too, Alfred," she'd whisper. "I loved you so much."

They stared into each other's eyes. Slowly, he'd rise and press his lips against hers. 

A final parting gift.

The young woman would take at this moment and she'd close her eyes. They lingered for a bit before he'd leave. There were no more traces of him in her vision. She stared at the clear floor. The perpetual cold temperature of her room disappeared completely and the heavyweight that constantly rested on her shoulders disappeared.

Her mind was given clarity, but her chest was heavy with grief. This was the general grief experienced after losing a loved one though. It wasn't like the one she's felt over the past few months. She didn't feel the world on her shoulders anymore.

But this was at the cost of Jones. 

He no longer haunted her.

Perhaps the remnants of his soul have served their purpose and have gotten what they wanted.

(Y/n) smiled as she blankly stared at the spot Alfred knelt at. She'd eventually approach her door to try and get her day started. To make herself think about something else. To start the process of healing. Before she could leave she'd hear a whisper in her ear.

"I loved you too, (Y/n)."

[blueberries-muffins]

Sunday 15/10/2017 (around 22:40)

Ok so first of all, I read again a few pages of this diary, and realised I still don't dare to write everything down.... But hey, let me clear things up: That crush we talked about at the beginning of September, it's *****, and it feels kinda wrong to wright his name down. We also have that one "crush" if I can call it likat that on that fucking hot, tall, asian-like6th-year (btw... he smokes o_o) and it feels weird wrighting and reading how I speak- no w8- wright/talk? about "us" while I'm obviously onr and the same person each time.....

And don't mind the wrighting,.... I'm in my/our bed half-sitting-half-laying, trying to wright something down, that'll cheer you up whenever and wherever you'll read this.

This was actually onf of the next things I wanted to talk about (bcs yes we're in some way talking to ourselves right?)

(and besides us wrighting about exo & bts..... what actually was quite surprising) ..... Aah damn I forgot what I wanted to say, I should go to sleep in a few minutes, so where were we.....

Ah yes I know! ( And NO! old me, we don't have Alzheimer like you said earlier -3-)

So I actually realised (maybe once again bcs I never liked to admit that this, reading messages from the me in the "past" kinda cheers me up, and fills me with nostalgy of when we were younger, believed in our dreams (becomming stylist for example and motivated to go study at La Cambre- before we lost ourselves in this infinite routine of hopeless en sometime meaningless days- And even forgetting our dream bcs people like our grandmother for ex. thought it was impossible for us, bcs we wouldn't be able of accomplishing it and having a poor drawing skill.)

NOW I know you might feel bad when reading this, but cheer up girl, we have to grow strong and stop hoping for miracles to happen to us.

we are not a movie. we are not fictions, if we do something stupid we cannot just rewind with the remote control. we have to make dreams if we don't want to waste ourself in someone elses dream, we should not forget about living reality, and not daydream of people whom we admire and want to meet. we Should not make dreams, like wanting to become famous just to meet celebs- whom might dissapoint you, while ruining our private life....

I can't think of anything else to say rn, bcs I'm tired.

(And Ive been writing for 25 minutes straight) but we should get ourselves together and become someone great who doesn't has to look for herself and her identity anymore.......

And eventually rest and go to sleep If you're about to sleep when reading this...

'Night! Make sweet dreams, and since we both know you can't take care of yourself properly.... Be careful and try to enjoy life.....

<3 <3 <3 <3

And listen to your friends advice:

Stop being so self-destructive!

that would help both of us a lot - to me now in the past and the (at least I hope) better me in the future.

-Blueberry's Diary

[shatteredrealm5e]

Fey Curses

A/N: We're doing The Wild Beyond the Witchlight campaign and I needed some fey curses so I decided to make a list here. It's not finished, but this is what I have thus far.

Note: These are meant to be temporary curses

Swap body with the nearest party member

Boots squeak loudly with each step (disadvantage on stealth)

You're a vampire and you are starving for blood. You believe that you'll die if you don't feed off the nearest creature

All your companions turn into cats

Player believes they are invisible (but everyone else can see them)

Your items (on your person) switch with the next person you touch

Everything you drink tastes like oil

Whenever you walk through a entrance (door or otherwise) you forget what you came for

You're compelled to touch everything in a shop

You are now a balloon. In order to not float away, someone must hold onto you at all time (attach something like a rope to you)

You must make one significant lie per day

If you roll a natural 1, it becomes a natural 20. If you roll a natural 20, it becomes a natural 1.

You are now afraid of the sun

You howl at the moon all night every night

You believe that you are the greatest bard in all the land

Long rests cannot be taken until a companion/party member reads you a bedtime story or sings a lullaby

You must yell MINE whenever you see something shiny & must grab it (if it belongs to someone else, roll sleight of hand)

Your weapon becomes sentient and can feel pain whenever you use it. But only you hear its cries and wails.

You fall madly in love with the next person you look at

You are incapable of seeing any living creatures

You can only speak in rhymes

Your legs suddenly turn into mermaid fins

A player is stalked by a tall, thin and faceless creature. They simply follow, saying nothing, always staring. They get get closer every time you turn to look at them. But no one else can see the creature.

You believe the floor/ground is lava

Your size grows or depletes depending on your character's size. (small characters become large; medium characters become small)

Doors will not open until you say "Open Sesame"

You suddenly become aware that you and your companions are not real and are played by people at a table with paper and dice

Your hair grows a foot every hour

One of your five senses enhance (roll a d10) while another is suddenly lost to you (roll another d10)

You believe you are in a musical and must sing everything

You feel like you have to sneeze. No matter what you do, you cannot

You believe you are a king/queen of a faraway kingdom

You turn into a frog and believe that you must be kissed to turn human

You turn invisible (but you're actually invisible)

You can no longer walk/run in a straight line, you must always move in a zigzag

You suddenly grow so much hair you look like a bugbear

You can now see everyone's red string of fate

You may only refer to yourself in the third person, using your full name

A duck sits on your head. It doesn't leave unless you kill it. However, if you kill it, another comes and sits on your head.

You have a theme song and it plays wherever you go

You become magnetic

Character must kill one creature per day or die themselves

When casting a spell, only gibberish comes out

Any money they have starts to disappear if they don't immediately spend it

You turn into a mouse for an hour. You can still speak (to companions) but not to other animals/mice

You have uncontrollable jazz hands

You're glued to your nearest companion

You drop every item you attempt to hold

You're now the opposite gender

[love-advice-on-call]

My boyfriend had trauma of previous girlfriends cheating on him with their close guy friends. So he’s the jealous type. When we talked about the topic he said that as long as I don’t have any guy best friends he’s alright. Since I don’t have any guy best friends or talk to guys, he hast really shown that jealousy yet. However, he doesn’t know that I’m Bi. I have a lot of best friends and friends who are girls, I’m not attracted to them but I’m worried that he will start feeling jealous of everybody. And I honestly cannot handle that when I’m not doing anything wrong. The fact that I’m bi does not mean I’m attracted to every girl. To not deal with that stress, I just don’t tell him. He has mentioned before jokingly like good thing you’re not bi and I just stayed silent. Is it better to let him Believe I’m straight?

I feel like it's better to be out with your boyfriend. I mean, this is someone you could potentially spend the rest of your life with. I understand being afraid of what his reaction might be, but now a days, sexuality is something that people tell strangers within 5 mins of talking to them. The fact that this guy is your boyfriend and he still doesn't know makes me feel like there is some history of him not reacting the best to things in general. Unless you guys have only known each other for like 2 months, then in my opinion he should probably know by now.

Once he knows, obviously the solution isn't that you should never be friends with anyone. I think there are two issues going on here. For one, the issue of him knowing your sexuality and you not telling him. And two, that he is insecure. I know you are trying to be flexible and patient with him, but what you are describing is someone with an insecurity and it shouldn't be your burden to try and mend that. It's something he needs to take care of and as you are already experiencing, his insecurities are projecting on to you so much that it's got you stressed out with telling him your sexuality. And I feel like that stress is probably lingering since it is weighing so much that you decided to write in.

This can be a little delicate to handle. For starters, I think you should tell him. I can feel the stress coming off of your ask and I know this is on your mind often and you probably get that flash of fear whenever he brings up this insecurity, your girl best friends, or you being bi. Coming out to him is just sitting him down and letting him know. You could also wait until the next time he jokes around about being bi, but I feel like that would only be a fair route if he's done it like once and you guys haven't been together that long yet.

Once he knows, there is no guarantee if this will even be a problem for him. Thankfully (ironically) due to sexism and double standards, he might not view you liking other women as a threat and just brush this one off. However, if he does have a problem, then he's going to have to get a hold of his emotions and just start trusting you.

The insecurity is not just being insecure, but it is a reflection of how much he trusts you. And if he can't trust you, then, arguably, you two can never build a fulfilling relationship because that means that he probably would end up with holding saying things just like you already have started with this. He can try going to therapy (if he is the type) or he can man up and believe that you aren't going to hurt him. Of course you can do things to help him along the way. It's a relationship and no one is ever 100% alone to solve their problems.

You can work to reassure and communicate with him how you feel about him, how you feel about your friends (when he asks), maybe he can get to know your friends so he trusts them better, and take efforts to check in and let him know that you're the only person for him and that you aren't like his old girlfriends. He'll need to do this one for the two of you and you will need to be there for him.

Posted July 31, 2023