#IDK i just think that she would see herself in them in the smallest of ways and just | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sequinsmile-x · 2 years ago

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hi! i have a prompt.. i don’t know if you’ve done this before but i kind of just thought of it and would love to see your version of this! idk if you just take random requests but here it is!

emily loses her wedding rings and she’s frantically searching and aaron finds her a mess on the bathroom floor and a sob breaks out when he asks her what’s wrong and he’s all patient and calm and it makes her more upset. but he gets her to stop crying and she calms down and he helps her tear the entire house apart. it’s only when the finally put jack to bed at night that they find them under his pillow! (idk how it got there—i think you could work that out)

hiiii friend!!

I love this prompt, and it immediately made my brain itch. It turned out a little differently than what you laid out, but I hope you enjoy it anyway <3

-x-

Threads of Gold

She puts the ring back onto its chain, and slips it over her head before tucking it back into her shirt. She presses the cool metal against her skin and closes her eyes, blowing out a shaky breath from lungs that felt stuffed with grief.

She wasn’t Emily Prentiss here.

Emily Prentiss was dead.

-x-

Words: 2.9k

Warnings: big feels, occasional cursing.

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

It was the silence that she hated the most.

The apartment she refused to call home was non-descript, the same as a thousand others in Paris. It had all the noise you would expect living in a big city. Neighbours who seemed to care very little for their possessions or the people around them. Mass-produced appliances that made noises that seemed to run like clockwork, the buzz of the refrigerator and the clunk of the air conditioning unit. The laughter of tourists as they walked the streets, happy and full of joy as they discovered the city of love.

Everything surrounding her apartment was full of noise, of life. The very thing that had been torn from under her feet, everything slipping away so quickly.

She was used to hearing Aaron walk around their house. His familiar footsteps part of the soundtrack of her life, a promise that he was never too far away. Jack seemed to be surrounded by noise, whether it was his laughter or one of his toys. He was only ever quiet in sleep, although even that would sometimes be interrupted by him walking suddenly in tears, memories of what happened to his mother warped even further by his subconscious, forcing him to seek out solace in her and Aaron’s bed. Safely tucked between the two of them.

They had just managed to start their lives again, joy the overriding emotion in their home for the first time in a long time, when she got the call that Doyle had escaped. Everything turned back on its head, another thing they had to overcome.

Only this time, they’d lost.

She knew if she had to do it again she’d change nothing. She wouldn’t involve Aaron, wouldn’t have brought him into the situation she’d found herself in. The one secret she had never shared.

She had vague memories of him visiting her in the hospital, dressed in all black from her funeral, his hand wrapped around hers as they both apologised for things neither of them could, or would, change. She’d saved his life by lying to him, by repeatedly saying everything was fine even though it clearly wasn’t.

He’d saved her life by taking it away.

Emily sighs as she pulls the door closed behind herself, and she checks the lock twice, a habit she had picked up from Aaron, before she moves further into the apartment. She places her bag of groceries on the kitchen counter, abandoning it for now, and walks the short distance to the couch. She sits down and tries to get her breath back. She was still recovering from what Ian had done to her, and even the smallest of tasks made her exhausted, her body pushed to its limit by something as simple as walking to the small store at the end of her street to buy some essentials.

Her hands automatically reach for the long chain around her neck and she pulls it loose from her shirt, pulling it off completely before she goes for the catch, opening it so she can take the ring off of it.

She holds the engagement ring in between her thumb and index finger, watching as she turns it, the low lighting in her apartment catching the diamond and making it sparkle. A flash of light across the dark night sky her life had become.

She could wear it here, she knew that. There would be no harm, or risk, to her identity by wearing an engagement ring that she carried everywhere with her anyway. But it felt wrong, something making her pause every time she considered slipping it onto her finger, the joy she’d felt when Aaron asked her to marry him burning in her chest, yet another thing in her life that was once good turned to ash.

She sighs, puts the ring back onto its chain, and slips it over her head before tucking it back into her shirt. She presses the cool metal against her skin and closes her eyes, blowing out a shaky breath from lungs that felt stuffed with grief.

She wasn’t Emily Prentiss here.

Emily Prentiss was dead.

___

They get married almost as soon as she gets home from Paris. Their wedding day a quick and desperate thing, an attempt to hold on to each other. To prove that everything would be ok. Their love for each other, and for Jack, never in doubt even in the hardest of moments.

It takes a while. She’s a little too keen for her independence and Aaron a little too protective after losing her, but after everything, she thinks they are happier now than they were before. The joy in their day-to-day lives deeper, something that felt all the more precious. They’d made it. They’d survived.

And now they were living.

She smiles at the sound of Jack laughing from the living room, his video game on in the background as he plays. She finishes rinsing out the wine glasses from dinner and places them on the draining board before she drains the sink, wiping her hands on a towel. The sound flowing from the living room comes to a stop and it’s quickly followed by Jack’s footfall, the noise dulled slightly by his socks. She turns just in time to see him in the doorway, a curious look on his face.

“Where’s Dad?”

She leans against the counter as she smalls at him, “He’s in his office, he had some work to finish whilst I did the dishes.”

“You do the dishes because Dad cooks!” Jack says, repeating back the words they’d told him more than once.

She hums and nods, “Exactly, although one day I might cook just so he has to do them instead,” she laughs as a horrified expression crosses the young boy's face, and she walks over to him, pulling him into a hug he gladly accepts, “Ok, I won’t cook.”

He sighs in relief and leans against her, and she holds him tighter, taking a moment to appreciate that she had this again. She hears her phone chime from the dining room and pulls back to smile down at Jack, ruffling his hair before she steps away from him.

“You go get ready for bed, ok?” She says before she kisses his forehead, “It’s your dad’s turn to tuck you in tonight.”

“Love you, Emily!” Jack says and it makes her heart swell, her smile so wide her cheeks ache.

“I love you too,” she replies. She hears her phone chime again and she heads to the dining room to pick it up. There are two text messages from Penelope on the screen.

Girl's night soon?

Sorry if I interrupted you and the boss doing some baby-making.

Emily shakes her head, “I’ve really got to stop telling her everything.”

She replies as she types out a response, ignoring the second text completely as she confirms her availability for a girl's night. Her friend's mention of her and Aaron’s plans to expand their family makes a mixture of anxiety and joy bubble in her stomach. Hope followed her around like a shadow these days, on the edge of everything she did, lingering in every corner as her future was laid out in two distinct paths.

One where they had more children, expanded their family and had the life both she and Aaron had always wanted but had been denied. The other where they didn’t. Where this didn’t happen for them for one reason or another.

She knew which one she wanted, that she’d be disappointed and heartbroken if the went the way she feared, but ultimately she knew she’d be happy with what she had in the end.

No matter what her future looked like, Aaron and Jack were there with her, and that had her feel luckier than she ever had before. ___

She’s just finishing up her nighttime routine, running her fingers over her skin as she rubs in a moisturiser that claims to slow down ageing, when she notices. Her eyes honing in on her left hand, her ring finger bare. Her chest seizes with fear, her breath catching against her ribs as she looks at her hand, her eyes fixed on the pale band of skin where her rings usually were.

“Fuck,” she whispers to herself, as she takes a step back, her eyes furiously scanning the bathroom counter as she desperately seeks out her rings. She pulls the products she’d used out from the spots she’d slipped them back into, showing no care for the usual order she tried to keep their home in.

She rushes into the bedroom with the clothing hamper in her hands, tipping the dirty laundry onto Aaron’s side of the bed. She tries to ignore the shake of her hands as she riffles through the clothes, taking the time to check the pockets of the pants she’d taken off before she started to get ready for bed.

“Fuck,” she exclaims again, more desperate this time as she runs her hands through her hair. She bites at her thumbnail as she tries to think, trying to remember when she was last wearing them.

They had become a part of her. As soon as it was safe when she came home, when Ian was dead and her photo removed from the memorial wall, Aaron had asked about her ring. She’d shown him the necklace, the cheap chain she’d bought on her first day in Paris, and he’d smiled. Taking it off her before he tipped the ring into his palm, and slipped it back onto her finger, the same reverence and love in his eyes as he’d had the first time. It was barely two weeks later when her wedding ring had been added alongside it and she’d put his on him. The gold rings a solid symbol of their love for each other when everything else still felt so unsteady.

They had become a part of her.

She rushes downstairs, sure she’d had them on when she got home, and walks into the kitchen. They aren’t in the usual place she leaves them near the sink if she ever handwashes anything, and her panic deepens, the room becoming blurry as her eyes fill with tears she doesn’t expect or understand. She pulls the dishwasher door open, steam escaping around her as she interrupts the cycle. She winces as she starts to pull the dishes out, the heat of them pressing against her skin as she stacks them on the counter, any hope that she had somehow accidentally slipped them in along the plates they’d eaten their dinner from disappears as she empties it completely. The familiar shine of her rings nowhere to be found.

She stands up straight and covers her mouth as a sob she can’t stop escapes. Grief and guilt and something she knows to be panic making her stomach churn. She’d never been a person who was too attached to material possessions. She’d moved too much when she was young for that. She remembered teasing Aaron when they moved into the house, softly calling him a hoarder because of his reluctance to let go of the simplest of furnishings. There were few things that she owned that could make her feel like this.

A photo of her and her dad from her high school graduation. A card Jack had drawn her for mother’s day.

Her wedding rings.

Her engagement ring was the only part of Aaron she’d had with her in Paris, and that was only because she’d been wearing it at the time. Ian had mocked her for it, compared it to the ring he’d once given her.

The ring had become so much more than what it initially met. It was a reminder of what she had at home, what she spent months dreaming out and hoping she’d have again.

And she couldn’t find it.

She leans back against the counter and covers her face with her hands, crying in a way she hadn’t in a long time.

“Sweetheart, is there a reason you dumped all of our dirty laundry…” Aaron trails off as he walks into the kitchen, his joyful tone turning serious as he strides over to her, his hand on her shoulder, “Emily, baby, what's wrong?”

He pulls her into a hug and she leans into him, her face buried against his neck as she wraps her arms around him, her hands grasping at his shirt. She tries to breathe him in, to remind herself that she has all of him now, that his love for her is more than a white gold band and a diamond that held them together across an ocean.

Aaron holds her close, his hand running up and down her back, and he looks around the kitchen. His eyes flick over the dishes that were still wet from the dishwasher haphazardly piled on the counter, water dripping down onto the marble. He doesn’t know what’s wrong, why his wife has torn their bathroom, bedroom and apparently their kitchen apart or why whatever it has her close to hysterical.

He places his hand on the back of her head and encourages her to tilt it back just far enough that she can look at him, her eyes red and shining with tears that were still tracking down her face.

“What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” He asks, moving his hand to cup her cheek.

“No…I,” she chokes out, shaking her head at herself, fury at herself for not being able to control her emotions clear, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” He asks, remaining endlessly patient despite his concern for her and the way it burned at his insides.

“I lost my rings,” she says, the words catching in her throat as she acknowledges it out loud for the first time, “I’m sorry I must have taken them off to wash the wine glasses and-”

“Em, sweetheart,” he cuts her off, digging his hand through his pants pocket before he opens his palm to her, her wedding rings shining in his hand, “Jack had them.”

It feels like every part of her has frozen in place, fear replaced by confusion and relief, “What?”

He smiles softly, “He picked them up from the counter and took them to his room,” he says, running his hand down her arm so he can hold her left hand, carefully slipping them back onto her finger, “Apparently he was planning on taking them to school for show and tell tomorrow,” he chuckles, shaking his head at his son, “We had a chat about taking things that don’t belong to us without permission.”

She nods, staring at her hand, her heartbeat returning somewhat to normal as she looks at her rings. She breathes shakily before looking up at her husband, smiling tightly at him.

“Thank you.”

“It’s ok,” he replies, wrapping his arm around her again to pull her closer. He waits a few seconds to see if she was planning on saying anything else, if she was going to give him an insight into why she’d been so upset, but she doesn’t. “Em-”

“My engagement ring was the only part of you I had in Paris,” she explains, cutting over him as she hugs him, her cheek pressing into his shoulder, “I wore it on that necklace every day and…for a long time I thought it was all I’d ever have of you. I lost it and I panicked.”

Aaron sighs sadly as he kisses the side of her head before he rests his chin on top of it, holding her tightly in the way he knew she needed whenever she was reminded of her time in Paris.

“I’m right here,” he promises her, “I’ve got you.”

She smiles and nods, pulling back so she can look up at him. She stamps a quick kiss against his lips, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he replies, kissing her again. “Why don’t you head up, I’ll put everything back in the dishwasher and then come up to join you.”

She frowns, “Honey-”

“Go,” he says, cutting off her rebuttal to him re-doing her usual chore. She smiles and nods, kissing him once more before she disconnects from him to go back upstairs.

By the time he joins her, she’s put the laundry back into the hamper and is curled up on her side of the bed. He quickly changes and does his own nightly routine before he lays behind her in the bed. He wraps his arms around her and presses his chest into her back before he links their fingers together, the cold metal of her rings making them both smile.

“Tomorrow, I’m buying you rubber gloves.”

She frowns, turning her head to look at him, not entirely sure what he means, “What?”

“I’m buying you rubber gloves,” he repeats, kissing her cheek, “So you don’t have to take your rings off when you’re doing the dishes.”

She beams at him, her love for him threatening to overwhelm her as she turns in his embrace, kissing him fiercely as she cups the back of his head, holding him in place.

“I love you so fucking much,” she says, still kissing him as she talks until she’s practically laying on top of him.

“Because I’m buying you gloves?” He asks, raising his eyebrow as he follows her lead, his hands trailing under her t-shirt.

She pulls back to smile at him, her teeth sinking into her lower lip, “Because you love me enough to understand why it’s important.”

She kisses him again, and they lose themselves in each other, both of them trying to keep quiet, their love for each other just for them in their home.

-x-

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#hotchniss #hotchniss fanfiction #hotchniss fanfic #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #aaron x emily #aaron hotchner fanfiction #emily prentiss fanficiton #hotch x prentiss

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deathbxnny · 1 month ago

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OH! You got to that much quicker than the previous times!

(Not complaining though, because when you did get to the previous ones, what you gave more than made up for the wait!)

Okay, now there's some stuff to unpack here. I like the brief little flashback to the theatre show that "Mother" partook in with Clervie and Peruere back when they were kids (and one member of the group was still with them) and how it clearly ties into the topic of the fic.

I liked how the angsty aspect was less "in your face" this time around. Like don't get me wrong, I still enjoy those previous... what is it now, 5 or 6? - parts, but the more subtle weaving of into this part at the end, just hit differently in the absolutely best way possible!

The twist of Arle somehow swapping the cards to intentionally sabotage Lyney's act was unexpected, and I'm definitely curious about why she might've done that. Though it definitely plays into the conflict of how the kiddos should be brought up.

"And you'd find it noble if it wasn't starting to unnerve you lately."

This phrase caught my eye. It sounds like you're setting the stage for doubt to enter the act. It sounds like "Mother" is growing "disillusioned" with the workings of their relationship. I had this thought that part of what drew them to each other (besides their intimately shared history in the House of the Heart pre-Crucabena slaying... and let's face it guaranteed survivor's guilt to some extent) was the super romanticized idea of "We're broken, but we can be together". But as time has gone on, and their differences and problems only become more pronounced, she starts to maybe realize that maybe being "broken together" isn't as great as a part of her wanted to believe.

Slightly off topic, but I remember seeing a post where they touched on Arlecchino being too stuck in her ways, and that she knows she can't break the cycle of generational trauma. That's why she's raising Lyney to inherit the "throne" of the House, which I would say she's done... decent-ish job. I mean he's still got his head screwed on pretty straight and he's approximately around the same age as Peruerre was when she killed Crucabena, if not slightly older. Now that I think about it, in the context of this fic, Lyney actually shares some personality traits with "Mother". Which idk if that was intentional or not, but that's another interesting angle to consider.

Either way, fun story >:)

X Anon

-----♡

Hey X Anon!

I apologize for the late response, but I hope you're doing well, and I'm glad you liked the post!<3

When writing it, I was especially focusing on the shifting dynamic between Arlecchino and Mother's different parenting philosophies through the cards. The Queen of Hearts represents Mother whilst the King of Hearts is Arlecchino. And in her switching the cards out last minute, she indirectly demonstrates a grand show of power and dominance even over her own wife's decision making (For example, Mother picking out cards. It is a simple act that shouldn't mean anything but yet still garners disapproval from the Knave.).

In other words, Arlecchino's resentment is catching up to her, and so is the distrust the more Mother fights against her law and rule over the house and children. She believes that the title of "Mother" isn't right and therefore chooses the title "Father" for herself. And perhaps a part of her regrets ever letting you take on that role, especially when you begin to unknowingly rebel against her.

And yes, Lyney being similar to Mother IS intentionally set that way (Never been happier for someone recognizing even the smallest details of my work-), as it's supposed to show Mother's grander importance and influence over all her children. She is their safety from their Father's cold wrath. But Arlecchino can only see the threat that lies within you when you begin to even take away her legacy (Lyney) from her, hence the act of humiliation against the boy as punishment.

We have indeed cooked so hard, I can't wait to write whatever next you come up with! And thank you once again for all of your request, they are so exciting to write!<33

-----♡

#bxnny-talks

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ticklystuff · 10 months ago

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If you’re still doing the team comp thing, my team is Misha, Bronya, Hanya and Fu Xuan

ask game is closed!

you are the first person i've seen on this site to ever mention misha lmao kudos to you anon

your ask actually prompted me to look up gameplay videos of him and he kinda slaps?? he's like a poverty jingliu LOL

who’s the most ticklish character

BRONYA i swear she has the cutest giggles like they're not overly sweet or high-pitched and squeaky but the stuttered and uncontrolled laughter is a nice contrast to how she normally holds herself. like they still have this refined sound to them and they still very much sound like bronya but it's a different side y'know? also she covers her mouth when tickled because she's embarrassed about her tickle laugh aslkdjf misha is a close second though! he's the type of person to have those frantic giggles when tickled ehe

who’s the character that most people would assume isn't ticklish, but actually is

hanya because of the whole mara-struck thing but she's still capable of feeling tickles. she's very intimidating though so it's very rare to hear her laugh from tickles, but i think she'd have this nice airy laugh to her

who’s the character that everyone gangs up on and tickles

i'm so sorry this one was hard because i can't imagine your team coordinating themselves enough for a tickle fight aksldjf like tickling for your team would probably be a heavily one-on-one thing ummmm if your team were to gang up on one specific person i think it would be fu xuan because she tends to stay out of these things a lot and she is the smallest so she's an easy target lol

who’s the character that somehow knows everyone else’s tickle spots and reveals them to others

fu xuan! she is the master diviner after all and would be able to tell someone's spots just from a quick divination. i don't think she'd be the type of person that would spread them though and keeps them to herself to gain the upper hand should she need them hehehe

who's the character with one specific tickle spot that only one other person knows about

fu xuan knows all tickle spots but for a real answer i think misha would have a spot just on the outer side of his kneecaps and he's a bit clumsy so one time he fell and injured one knee and bronya made sure to check up on him. after tending to the injured spot, she insisted on checking the other leg and when she touched that specific spot, misha squealed and ended up kicking her aklsdjflk he apologized like 20 times and she just told him it's ok through gritted teeth

who’s the most likely to win gang tickle wars

oh mmmmm idk i think things would be pretty even between them, except fu xuan because she's really bad when it comes to these kinda things and kinda just flops down on the ground when tickled lol but i think i'll give this answer to bronya! she's often on the front lines so she probably is physically capable of taking down the others when it comes to it

which character has a kink for tickling

none!

which character didn’t even know they were ticklish until another character tickled them

i think they would all know they're ticklish before joining the team but i think hanya would be interested in finding out if she still is in her current state. i can see her entrusting this request to either fu xuan or bronya and they go ahead and test a few spots and are able to confirm that she still is!

which two characters have tickle fights all the time

okay i think bronya would love spending time with hanya and fu xuan because the girlies are bffs and she loves hearing stories about the xianzhou and places outside of belobog. plus, she thinks it's beneficial to spend time with teammates. as for tickling, i think she'd mainly get into tickle fights with fu xuan because she sees fu xuan as a sibling figure (even though she's old enough to be her great great great great grandmother). for hanya, though, tickle fights are a little harder to come by because hanya mainly associates tickling with the times when she and xueyi would have tickle fights as kids, so hanya doesn't really partake in them as much, but she might give a poke or two to bronya, mainly out of curiosity.

#bronya #hanya #fu xuan #misha #honkai star rail #tickling

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cinamun · 11 months ago

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Skin for Hope. I believe it was supposed to say haunt but it says hunt for Darren.

Mask for Indya

Hmmmm let's see!

skin: How comfortable is your OC in their skin? Do they grapple with anything that lives inside them—a beast, a curse, a failure, a monster? How do they face the smallest, weakest, most horrible version of themself? Are they able to acknowledge it at all?

These days, Hope isn't all that comfortable in her skin. She thinks its just adjusting to the twins but the more she chops it up to being a new mother, the more she thinks she might be making excuses for herself. I think what makes her uncomfortable is what she's grappling with; being a failure. We've seen this hinted at before, she has a big fear of failure but in this case, I think its career related but you ain't heard that from me. How do they face it? Hope seeks guidance and reassurance from her better half. She needs it.

hunt: Who or what is your OC hunted by? A person, a feeling, a past mistake? Is your OC able to let their guard down, or are they constantly alert?

Idk, maybe it is hunt and, if so, it would have been Juan at one point but of course haunt works too. Darren is hunted/haunted by his youth and the things he did to survive and the lives he may or may not have taken (we don't snitch here). I think it stopped eating away at him, but one never forgets. Letting his guard down is the best part about being married to Indya. She is such a safe place for him. He still keep that thang on him tho... just sayin.

mask: Does your OC wear a mask, literally or figuratively? What goes on beneath it? Is there anyone in their life who gets to see who they are under the mask?

Unless you count that beat face, then no masks for the good sis. Everyone in her life is going to see her for exactly who she is and I think that is a direct result of her upbringing. She doesn't know how to pretend to be anyone other than Indya Drake.

#good ones!#oc asks

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queen-scribbles · 6 months ago

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bound, break, skin for Jaaide and maybe also AJ?

Ohoho, these two are both excellent for these questions. :3

bound: Has your OC ever been imprisoned or captured? What happened? How did they get out? Did the experience leave any scars?

Jaaide was imprisoned by the Castellan Restraints(inflicted by her own people :) ), and then there's the five years in carbonite thanks to Arcann, and briefly, technically, captured by Heta's forces on Ruhnuk. The Castellan Restraints left mental scars after she reconditioned herself, there haven't been any long term effects from the carbonite, but she did deal with nausea for a while immediately after Lana freed her(and sometimes forgets how old she is bc those 5 years feel like they "don't count"; she has to do the "What year is it? And I was born in...? Making me...." math). Nothing even short term from the Ruhnuk one bc of how fast Rass saved her neck.

AJ was captured by Murphy in book 1, wriggled herself free before running into Unit Bravo, and she has a deep-seated fear of being retrained now, as well as the bite scars on the side of her neck. (Also some lingering trauma from watching him beat Nate unconscious. No, knowing about vampire superhealing--and that Nate's is extra good--does not help)

break: What would cause your OC to break down completely? What do they look like when that happens? Has anyone ever seen them at their lowest?

Jaaide it's one of two things: either failing at her long-term goal of bringing down the Empire and seeing that everything she's spent a decade working and sacrificing toward that end was for nothing or losing Theron. Whether that's death-type losing Theron or she says/does something that makes him turn on her for real. There was a taste of the latter during the Fractured Alliances arc; she takes insomniac workaholic to a whole new level, is half a step from a complete non-functioning wreck. Theron's seen her at her lowest bc.... well, he didn't put her there but he def rubbed salt in the wound. Her lowest was post-Onslaught, when a whole bunch of civilians died bc she said the wrong thing and didn't talk Darth Krovos out of bombing Corellia. Add Theron yelling at her for something she already felt massively guilty over(one of their only real fights. :)))) ) and that was probably the lowest she's gotten.

AJ it would be failing to protect someone, especially someone she cares about a lot. She felt horribly guilty when Bobby got sick in b2 and she kinda loathes him; if something horrible happened to, say, Nate or Felix or her mum in a scenario where it's even 3% possible for her to blame herself, she's gonna break down. Lots of tears, streaky red face bc she's an ugly crier, either self-imposed exile bc she just gets people hurt OR driving herself unreasonably hard to set it right. Like, we're talking almost-killing-herself hard. Adam needs to have a talk with her hard. Her lowest point so far is when she was crying over the missing posters in b3, so no one saw her, but she called Nate, so he heard her, if that counts.

They're both pretty comfortable in their skin. You could say Jaaide grapples with what she knows she's capable of; the rage that tore Vinn Atrius to (figurative) shreds for trying to kill Theron, the manipulation that's turned people against their own families, but she knows just bc she's capable of those things doesn't mean she's going to use them.

AJ doesn't have anything(yet? there are some hints for book 4 that are 👀), and I don't think either of them's truly had to face the worst version of themselves yet. And I don't think AJ would be able to acknowledge it without facing it. She knows she's not perfect, but idk how she'd handle the absolute worst version of herself.

Not So Nice Asks

#not so nice asks #jaaide arien #abigail jenings

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the-widow-sisters · 2 years ago

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Would you do Carol and Yelena “Stop looking down your nose at me like that.”?

A/N: Gosh, this one is probably not at all what you were expecting when you sent this prompt 🤣🤣🤣 Idk, sometimes the ideas get the better of me 🤦‍♀️😂

And dang, I just keep writing these long ones 😂 Oh, well. I enjoyed it a ton 🤣💗

I hope y'all enjoy!

Please do send in more requests for a friendship pair via my prompt list here!

Word Count: 1.8k+

“Stop looking down your nose at me like that,” Yelena grumbled, and Carol huffed, raising an eyebrow as she looked down at the shorter girl.

At the moment, they were both currently jammed in one of those large boxes that magicians used. Kate and Clint had decided to do a magic act this time, and they were rehearsing for the annual talent show. Unfortunately for Yelena and Carol, they had just so happened to wind up as their lucky test subjects.

In the box, they were currently almost chest-to-chest. Or rather face-to-chest with Yelena leaning back against the box as hard as she could to avoid it. Carol was just standing there. She was trying to keep out of Yelena’s space a little to try to be respectful, but she was by no means gluing herself to the side of the box to escape from her necessarily.

“How? I’m literally taller than you,” Carol mused incredulously, and Yelena narrowed her eyes.

“Yeah, but you don’t have to make it so obvious, though,” Yelena informed her, purposefully speaking just the smallest bit louder so that she could drown out the sound of Kate’s over-the-top showman voice and Clint’s significantly less enthusiastic one that bordered on a monotone.

“How do I not? It’s literally a physical thing that I can’t help,” Carol answered with a huff, and Yelena scoffed.

“I don’t know. Shrink?” Yelena suggested, and Carol almost snorted.

“What? Like an old person?” Carol questioned, somewhat disbelieving as she went along with Yelena’s strange manner of teasing her.

The thing about Yelena was that one had to discern when she was genuinely griping and when she was just playing around. As it was, she was genuinely unhappy about being shoved in a small, cramped, uncomfortable box, but she was only kidding with Carol about the height thing.

“Shouldn’t be hard for you. You are an old person,” Yelena grumbled, wistfully looking in the direction of the door to the box.

“Hmph. Savor that momentary victory, short-stack,” Carol calmly answered, allowing Yelena this one win. However, it was only because this was one point for the shorter girl in a whole sea of points for Carol herself.

“This is far from winning. Do you think I wanted to be stuck in this shoebox with you?” Yelena complained, and Carol sighed.

“Well, would you rather it be me and have a tiny bit of wiggle room or Banner and you’re leaking out the cracks of this box as we speak, little blonde hairs and squishy ooze running out?” Carol questioned, and Yelena narrowed her eyes instantly, pointing a finger in Carol’s face.

“Don’t even go there,” Yelena warned, trying to keep Carol from going on the track of talking about her nickname. Carol grinned winningly, the expression far too close to a smirk to be genuine.

“Why not?”

“I’ll punch you in the gut,” Yelena threatened, and Carol nodded her head, moving her arms to the side to give Yelena a clear shot at her.

“Give it a try. I can break your hand without even laying a finger on you,” Carol cockily joked, purposefully stiffening her abdominal muscles and combining super strength to make them harder. Yelena already knew precisely what Carol meant by that statement, and she did not even bother asking or testing it out to see if it was what she thought.

Yelena rolled her eyes, looking away as her eyes glinted in the small bits of light that was shining through the cracks of the box.

After a few awkward moments of silence, Carol realized that Kate had said the magic words, but there was nothing happening. Carol furrowed her brow, leaning forward a bit to try to peek out of the cracks to see what was happening, and Yelena instantly recoiled, pressing herself flush against the box.

“Watch out!”

“What— Oh. Sorry,” Carol apologized, moving back as she realized that Yelena was getting a bit cramped in there with Carol’s chest moving closer to her face. Yelena shot her a glare.

“Keep a leash on those hooters!” Yelena yelped, and Carol raised an eyebrow.

“Someone’s been studying their slang,” Carol commented, slightly snarky.

“Guys?!” Kate’s voice suddenly called, and they both stopped, listening to what Kate would say. Carol was sure she could hear Clint chuckling, and to her worry, it sounded far too wicked.

“What do you want?! Do your acrabadadoo,” Yelena complained.

“Abra-cadabra?” Carol questioned, squinting a little, and Yelena waved her hand dismissively at her.

“That, too!”

“Wow…. I take back the compliment on the slang,” Carol deadpanned, and Yelena shoved her lightly. Carol just laughed heartily, trying to quiet down as she realized that Kate was talking again just outside the door to the box.

“I think the key to the box disappeared!” Kate told them, laughing somewhat nervously as she broke the news to the both of them. Yelena’s eyes went wide in utter horror, and Carol instantly found herself feeling a little less than overly thrilled.

“Kate Bishop, you better make it reappear or when I get out of here, you will disappear!” Yelena yelled.

“Don’t panic! It’s okay! I think I left it over here in my bag. Let me just go look really fast,” Kate announced before everything went quiet for a moment. Carol took in a deep breath before sighing heavily, already having a good idea of what Kate was going to answer with in just a moment.

Kate was back after a moment, and she hesitantly spoke up.

“It wasn’t in my bag…”

“Kate Bishop!!!”

“I know! I don’t know what happened to it! I just had it! Maybe my magic really did work… Maybe I have powers or something,” Kate trailed off, and Clint’s definitive sigh could be heard from not too far away.

“You know what? I suddenly have the powers of a fortune teller! And you know what I see? I see my mother’s farm and very hungry pigs in your future!” Yelena threatened, and Kate laughed nervously.

“Look, I’ll just fix the whole problem and blow off the door,” Carol spoke up, starting to light up her fist to smack the door, but Kate must have seen the light through the door because she was instantly freaking out.

“No, no, no!!! That’s my magic box! Don’t break it!” Kate begged, and Carol reluctantly let her fist lose its glow. Yelena was looking increasingly agitated, and Carol could not help but wonder what was wrong with her.

“Look, I’ll be back! Just… You guys don’t move! Me and Clint are going to go find it! Don’t go anywhere!” Kate cried, and there was a silence for a moment.

“Kate Bishop?” Yelena questioned, and Kate was silent for a moment, seemingly realizing the error in her statement.

“Yes?” Kate tentatively asked, and Yelena tapped on the door.

“Come a little closer,” Yelena beckoned as she leaned toward the door. Carol could hear Kate putting her ear to the door.

Yelena took in a breath before letting loose.

“WE LITERALLY CAN’T LEAVE!!!” Yelena screamed, and Kate jumped away from the door.

“We’ll be back!” Kate cried, hurrying away with Clint in tow.

There was silence for a long moment.

That is, until Yelena suddenly spoke up.

“Okay, look, we need to reposition,” Yelena insisted finally, and while Carol was not sure why Yelena was suddenly so determined to do this, she figured it was not too bad of an idea.

“Okay,” Carol effortlessly agreed. Yelena grabbed her arms, trying to get her to go in the direction that she wanted her to.

“Move, move, move,” Yelena insisted, pushing at her as they moved around. Carol somewhat awkwardly tried to maneuver so that she did not run into Yelena too much.

Before long, they were both moved so that they were somehow on the floor of the box, their legs raised up as they sat with their butts near one other and their legs framing either side of one another. They looped their legs around so that their feet were planted on the floor of the box, and they leaned against the walls of the box somewhat uncomfortably.

Now that they were both seated, Carol took the time to look at Yelena for a moment the best she could in the darkness.

To her surprise, Yelena seemed almost like she was unravelling. Her breaths were shaking just a little as she efforted to keep them calm and deep, and Carol could not help but notice that she seemed to be looking around the box a lot.

“What’s wrong, Yelena?” Carol questioned, her voice soft as she tried to keep from upsetting her. Yelena looked at her quickly, her eyes snapping to lock with Carol’s the best she could considering the lack of light.

Yelena was quiet for a moment, seemingly debating how to answer or whether she would tell the truth, and she finally let out a breath.

“I’m claustrophobic,” Yelena finally admitted, and Carol looked at her carefully, her chest squeezing for her friend.

“What can I do?” Carol questioned, knowing that she was limited in what she could actually do without blowing the box apart, but if that was what it took, she would do it. She hated to do it to Kate, but she would just go and buy Kate a new one. Yelena was on the verge of something, and she knew that Kate would understand if she had to break the box.

“A little light?” Yelena questioned, her voice remarkably calm.

“You sure? It’ll get hot in here. I can break the box if you need me to,” Carol offered, tilting her head in the direction of the door.

“No… Kate likes her box,” Yelena simply stated, and Carol was surprised at the fact that Yelena so highly respected something that Kate wanted. She supposed that Yelena was far more fond of Kate than she let on for her to go through her own fears just to keep from breaking Kate’s box.

Carol looked at her for a moment before letting her body glow. Instantly, the box around them lit up. Yelena looked around them, taking in the light before looking at the ethereal glow surrounding Carol.

She seemed to be calming significantly as Carol shed a little light on the situation, and Yelena finally looked at Carol gratefully.

“Thank you,” Yelena expressed gently, and Carol smiled softly, nodding to her. There was a short beat of silence, and Carol finally mustered the words to speak to her.

“Anything for my little buddy,” Carol risked a small joke, and Yelena narrowed her eyes, kicking Carol in the side firmly but not with the intent to injure.

Carol was already tensed up waiting for the hit, so she just laughed as Yelena tried to land it. Yelena had not aimed on hurting her, and she knew Carol was going to stop her, so she just rolled her eyes, trying to pretend to be unimpressed.

However, Carol caught that undeniable smile tugging at Yelena’s lips, and she let herself close her eyes, a contentedness settling within her.

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lottieurl · 2 years ago

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honestly it was less that mari didn't let lottie speak at all and more that lottie couldn't bring herself to speak. mari is terrified and someone who clings to any kind of leadership she can get, and the second it seems shaky or like they, also, don't know what they're doing, she jumps ship, so she sees lottie as someone who knows what's going on and can lead them and latches onto her. also she's a little gay for her which is very important to note. she's talking lottie up so much because she needs to trust in something, something else needs to be responsible for everything so that she can know they're going to survive. at the very beginning she thought it could be jackie, but jackie was not able to adapt to leadership in the wilderness and mari (and everyone else lol) could see it, and so she flipped on her immediately. i think sort of hoping, consciously or not, that someone else, someone better, would fill that power vacuum so she could trust there was someone else to follow, to absolve her of having to really consider the big decisions and to assure her she would be okay. and if that's taking too long, build your own symbolic leader and orchestrate their rise to power and set them up for their potential, inevitable fall from grace! not that this is exactly consciously what mari is doing. i think mari is just deep down extremely scared and she lashes out for three reasons- to prove she's not on the bottom of the totem poll, the smallest dog (usually the purpose of her going for misty and later crystal), to disguise any guilt or fear or other supposed social "weakness" she may have (i think initially going for misty was to sort of place all the blame for the stew fiasco on her, because mari maybe felt responsible a tiny bit for putting the shrooms in the pot in the first place, even unknowingly? and she didn't want anyone else to blame her for that at all so she made it known that it was all misty's fault despite having a slight hand in it), and finally, she lashes out at people who "should" be responsible for leading them, for saving them, when they don't meet her (often impossibly and irrationally high) standards. we saw it first with jackie, and again with nat in old wounds. mari's extreme need to trust in something or someone else to be responsible for the big things also means she gets like... really shaken when whatever that person shows signs of weakness or failure and she takes it out on them because either they'll start to work harder maybe and do better at protecting them and keeping them alive, or, more likely, other people will see their failure and maybe replace them with someone better who can better serve their needs and maybe mari will feel a little more at ease and a little less scared. also maybe sometimes she's just hangry like they're starving out there! oh man i totally meant for this to be a preamble to some lottie analysis but i think i'll just send that in a separate ask lol i just have so many mari thoughts like yes she sucks but. there are Reasons and they fascinate me. -cannibal laura lee anon

OH YES I AM SO HERE FOR MARI ANALYSIS. i made a post a while ago about how mari is definitely just Very Scared deep down and idk if you read that but this feels like a really good elaboration and i Agree 100% with everything you said

#cannibal laura lee anon #YOU ARE SOOOO RIGHT AND SO CORRECT EVERYTIME #yellowjackets blogging #mari

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dreamwritesimagines · 2 years ago

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It’s CMA-

I’m on my way to the zoo so if this comes off as being disjointed, it’s because I’m writing it throughout the day at different times lol.

Clover calling herself his wife 😭😍😍

The way that you wrote clover’s insecurities and thought process in a way that feels realistic and you feel sympathetic for her but are able to the see that it is still objectively humorous👌👌👌

Clover is so petty lmao I love it. I love that both of them are frustrated with the other over their poor communication skills.

Awww the tuberoses!!!! Cute, and I love that he mentions all these sweet things he’s clearly brainstormed that they could do together. I also think that Ben is not only the type of person who researches to try and find out what clover’s love language is and how to communicate it with her (spending his time looking these places up) but also that he’s the type to hear of something in passing and think ‘oh clover would love that!’. It’s very sweet and wholesome, and both of those types of loving show how much he cares.

It also shows how much he’s thinking of her and how she receives love. He’s trying all the love languages and it’s clear that quality time is the one that seems to stick, so he puts in a lot of work to make sure that she will enjoy every moment they have together and even those when they’re apart.

Oof dream going from a fluffy moment to a shockingly angsty moment is like…. Your speciality I feel like. Also clover’s. Just trauma dumping and ending things right then and there lol.

Also wow another piece of clover’s backstory… dang girl what even is her life

I love that as soon as she asks for space, Benedict immediately complies. He doesn’t push her, doesn’t ask questions; he just leaves and that’s it. That’s good on him but I’m sure it takes its toll after a while; how she completely trauma dumps and refuses to let him ask questions or anything. It’s a lot for someone to handle. I commend him, but I do worry.

Her conversation with Anthony is a very interesting look at cherie vs clover. Besides the obvious hostility and sarcasm compared to unbridled enthusiasm and naïveté, cherie was very much concerned about her husband’s finances before getting married. One of the reasons Anthony was able to get her to hesitate about Pierre was his finances after all.

Clover is a survivor though, and she knows she can do so no matter what happens, but it’s interesting how boldly she overestimates how well she could survive on her own, or if something happened to her support system. She insists that no matter what happens she’ll be fine because she’s all too aware of how things can be taken from her in the blink of an eye, and facing that prospect every single day means that she needs to cope, even if by coping she means that she’s heavily in denial.

Idk a lot of thoughts lol. I think when you’re forced to be strong for so long, you’re so used to seeing yourself as strong that you don’t realize that the weight you’re carrying is taking a toll, that there comes a point where the smallest thing could break you. That despite your strength, or maybe even because of it, you are left far more vulnerable than you ever were.

The way that she finally called benedict a part of her family (crying screaming throwing up etc)

This is also an interesting analysis of Anthony and how he doesn’t think before he acts either, or how in denial of the risks he takes he is. He’s reckless, but maybe that’s too nice of a word for him. Careless isn’t the right word; it’s more caring too much that you become dangerous. Stubborn and headstrong, perhaps.

Idk he’s a good character analysis for when caring goes too far lol, and him and clover are good examples of people who care so much that they try to control everything and end up making it all worse.

There’s also this thing called frustration tolerance and there’s a lot of research on it (I’ve probably mentioned it before). But this is basically how much difficulty/frustration a person can handle before they blow up/get irritated. The more stressed out a person is, the lower their frustration tolerance tends to be, especially when dealing with relatively minor issues.

A really good example of this is when someone who is overstimulated (maybe they’re tired, haven’t eaten, or are going through something) ends up snapping at the people around them for seemingly no reason.

Anyway when people have severe chronic stress (like ongoing trauma or anxiety or something), their frustration tolerance can be seriously messed up all of the time, especially if they never developed a proper frustration tolerance in the first place.

We see this with clover since she gets so easily frustrated and reacts so dramatically when things that might not be a big deal happen. She doesn’t or can’t regulate her emotions and it’s made worse by her narrow window of tolerance.

People (including her) can’t tell when she’s getting near her peak because a) she’s always there and b) she’s learned to mask it over the years and to hide many of the signs of her distress so that things don’t get worse. As a result, it takes someone who’s paying very close attention to her to tell when she’s about to explode, which Ben does.

You know as I’m typing this I feel like I’ve shared all of this before and I’m just rambling and repeating the same five points I make every time lolololol.

Idk lots of thoughts. It’s also super hot where I am and I’m tired so idk how much sense this all makes lol.

Anyway how are you doing?

Hi my loveeee! ❤️ I'm doing well, hbu? 🥰

She did not even hesitate to call herself that 😏🥰

I really wanted this chapter to be funny so that's wonderful to hear that! ❤️

The tuberoses! ❤️ That's becoming the flower of their relationship 😏 And I totally agree, I think he pays attention to like everything and makes a mental note to check out places with Clover later on 🥰

He’s trying all the love languages and it’s clear that quality time is the one that seems to stick, so he puts in a lot of work to make sure that she will enjoy every moment they have together and even those when they’re apart. THIS IS SUCH A GOOD POINT!❤️

You're right, Clover's love language is quality time and the fact that Benedict picked that up and finds different ways of doing it...😍

Fluffy to angsty is fun😏

Benedict doesn't want her to pull back into her shell again the way she did in the earlier days of their marriage, so he makes sure not to push her I think 😍

Yessssss and also like, Cherie has never been without money in her whole life, and though she kept saying only love mattered to her, she was used to a certain lifestyle even if she didn't realize it 😂 She was very much coddled and protected by the harshness of the real world, first by her mother, then her father and Elias, and then by Anthony ❤️Clover on the other hand never had any of those luxuries until she and Teddy moved in with their uncle ❤️

I do think that Clover has what it takes to survive in any environment, but also she is hyper aware of any and every danger around her all the time, so that's very exhausting for her ❤️

Benedict is her family yesssss and she didn't even realize what it actually means for her feelings for him 😍

Both Anthony and Clover have control issues for sure 😂

Wait wait, I didn't know about the frustration tolerance! 😱 And oh my God that actually explains a lot about me 😂 Very interesting! ❤️

Benedict is getting very good at reading her especially when she's overly stressed so I think he will be pretty understanding with her in the following chapters ❤️

HONEY OMG I ABSOLUTELY LOVE THIS! 😍❤️ Thank you so so much, you're amazing ILYSM! ❤️❤️❤️

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just-some-random-blogger · 1 year ago

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The plan was stupid and risky. Trying to pretend to smuggle a little coke through airport security on a fake flight over to Cali. Just to get his attention? It was worth her money.

When I say my jaw dropped I mean my jaw dropped 🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️ girlie BUILT different wHAT JS THAT

Though, there was no guarantee that Javier Peña would be sent over once they caught her. But she was willing to bet on it since he was supposed to be near the airport today - or so she’d heard.

Damn she a gambler ig. I mean live your life but it's not for me

Because even though he couldn’t stop telling her how much he loved fucking her while his cock was buried inside of her weeping pussy, he hadn’t answered her calls in more than two weeks. Sure, this was nothing more than a bit of fun on the side, but she sure was hurt and eager to have him again.

UH IDK IF THESE PARAGRAPHS ARE CHRONOLOGICAL BUT Javier's such a jerk face 🙄🙄🙄✋

He would love what she wore and she couldn’t wait to see his face.

The check-in was easy, twirling her boarding pass in her hands as she bit her lip. She could already feel herself get wet at the thought of him having to come here, not even entertaining the thought of them sending anyone else.

AS SHE SHOULD QUEEENNNNN 👑💖

This could go very wellor incredibly bad now, letting them lead her to a private room where she simply waited, anticipation setting her body on fire. She had to squeeze her legs together to try and get some friction, growing more and more horny by the minute, her hands cuffed to the middle of the table.

GIRLLLLL SHE'S WILD I MEANNNNN WHAT THE FUCKKK I MEANNNN WHATTTTTT KRAZZIEEEE

“What the fuck do you think you’re playing at, chiquita?” Oh, he was angry. Voice quiet but deadly. “You’re smuggling drugs now?”

What about it 🙄💅 girls gotta eat

“You didn’t answer my calls, Javi.”

“You little puta.” Stopping next to her, she had to crane her head to look at him, his arms crossing in front of his chest, his biceps bulging in the short sleeved red shirt he wore. The smallest smirk curled his lips upward. “Getting arrested for what? Some dick? Is that really worth it to you?”

🧍‍♀️ the woman was too stunned to speak. Also WHAT ABOUT IT RAT

“You should take it as a compliment, Javier. I would if I was you.”

“How’d you even know they’d call me?”

Manifest

“I didn’t, I just hoped they would.”

🤪🤪🤪🤪🤪 you could never cuz ur a stinky boy

“Get up, looks like I gotta do a cavity search.” He said, tone flat, like he was bored, like this was routine to him. Just another workday. Meanwhile it got her going, eyes widening just a little, gaze dark. “Pretty girls like you don’t just hide a couple of grams in their purse, strip.”

And this was when I knew where this was going and why it was called cavity search. Oh my sweet summer past self thought Javier was a dentist on the side 😔😔😔😔

His tone had her get up quickly, her hands moving to her skirt, opening the zipper at the side. As she let it fall to the floor he took his time to pat her down, first moving over her sides, really squeezing at her waist and hips before moving up again, stepping behind her. She gasped when he cupped her breasts through her clothes, maybe just a little too hard.

“You take your job very seriously.” The sarcastic remark earned her another squeeze, harder this time. “There’s nothing there, Peña.”

............ Ok but .... What if.... There.... Wasss

She shook her head firmly, gasping loudly when she felt his fingers spread her cheeks before he spit onto her asshole, hearing him laugh at her strangled moan.

cavity search

summary: javier has left your calls unanswered for more than two weeks, so you come up with a plan that will bring him right to you.

pairing: javier peña x f!reader

word count: 2.9k

warnings: 18+ content; no use of y/n; cavity search; anal fingering/play; vaginal fingering/fisting; some degradation (whore, puta); handcuffs; no knowledge about airport security before the 2000s

a/n: idk what i was on when i wrote this & i wish i remembered what inspired this // banners by @saradika

• masterlist •

Checking her purse for a final time in the taxi, she smiled, seeing the tiny package of coke hidden at the bottom of it, beneath the huge cellphone, makeup and perfume and her wallet.

The plan was stupid and risky. Trying to pretend to smuggle a little coke through airport security on a fake flight over to Cali. Just to get his attention? It was worth her money.

Though, there was no guarantee that Javier Peña would be sent over once they caught her. But she was willing to bet on it since he was supposed to be near the airport today - or so she’d heard.

Eager and just a bit crazy enough to do this.

When the taxi stopped at the airport, she paid the driver with a smile before getting out, straightening her short skirt.

He would love what she wore and she couldn’t wait to see his face.

Taking out her cellphone, she pretended to make a call while going over to the security check, laughing and name-dropping some of Escobar’s associates.

Gacha, the Ochoa’s, Escobar himself.

Pretending she knew about a dropoff, not caring who heard.

It was insane, seeing the reactions by the guards around her, noticing the whispers, one of them leaving while the other waved her over to inspect her now.

“Hasta luego.” She said, all sweet and confident, putting her phone back into her purse. Smiling at the man in front of her who urged her to put her heavy bag down.

He simply searched it, placing the contents onto the table. The phone, the makeup, her perfume.

And finally, the small bag of cocaine, looking at her with a raised brow while she just smiled innocently.

“I have no idea how that got in there.” She said as he put everything into the bag again, save for the drugs.

“Sígame, por favor.” Was all he replied to her, motioning for her to follow him, another officer already approaching her as well, flanking her.

Then, the door opened, and in walked Javier Peña, his face going from serious to surprised and then back to serious, all while her smile grew bigger.

“Do you need me to stay with you, Agent Peña?” The officer asked.

Javier shook his head.

“I got it from here. She’s tied to Escobar so this is my jurisdiction.” He said to the officer who let him in, giving him a stern look when he hesitated for a moment but finally left them alone.

Just standing there, he let out an incredulous laugh, shaking his head.

“Fucking hell, chiquita.” He said, feeling angry but also incredibly impressed by her boldness, knowing just by her grin this had been a plan of some sort which seemed to be going incredibly well.

“Hello, Javi.” She replied, lips still stretched wide into a smile, but her eyes were filled with excitement and hunger. “Long time no see.”

Stepping closer, he placed his hands on the table, leaning over to her, no hint of amusement on his face.

“What the fuck do you think you’re playing at, chiquita?” Oh, he was angry. Voice quiet but deadly. “You’re smuggling drugs now?”

She giggled at his question, batting her eyelashes at him with her cocky grin and shrugging her shoulders.

“You didn’t answer my calls, Javi.”

His face fell for just a moment before he laughed, biting at his bottom lip and standing up straight. Towering over her as he rounded the table.

Again, she shrugged her shoulders.

“You should take it as a compliment, Javier. I would if I was you.”

Her heart beat in her throat at the sight of him like this, wondering if he looked at his suspects the same way he looked at her right now.

“How’d you even know they’d call me?”

“I didn’t, I just hoped they would.”

What a clever, crazy little thing. Who was insane enough to buy a cheap flight and get a baggy of drugs just because their calls hadn’t been answered in a while?

Her, apparently. And somehow, he liked it.

Javier sighed, thinking this whole thing over. Something about this had him half hard in his jeans already, the thought of her desperate pussy enough to get him going.

Maybe he could pull this through, just go along with her little game. But it would just give her what she wanted, wouldn’t it?

Reaching for the cuffs, he unlocked them, surprising her. He wouldn’t just let her go like this, would he? How would he explain this to anyone?

Blinking up at him, her mouth fell open at the direct orders, just slightly and he had to chuckle at her dumbfounded look. She clearly hadn’t expected this.

“C’mon, I don’t like to repeat myself. Get your ass up and strip.”

He had to make sure she didn’t hide anything, after all.

“You take your job very seriously.” The sarcastic remark earned her another squeeze, harder this time. “There’s nothing there, Peña.”

He grinned, letting go of her and taking a step back, watching her strip out of her underwear, the black, lacy panties landing on the floor, her ass exposed to him.

The air in the room felt cold without anything on, shivering just a little as she waited for his next orders, excited and dripping wet already.

She didn’t expect to feel the cold metal of his handcuffs on her ankle, tying her to the leg of the table on one side before he roughly took her other ankle and attached it to the other side with the pair he had taken from the table, forcing her to bend over it, fully exposed to him.

It was quiet, only their breaths softly echoing off the walls, and she just waited for him to touch her, clenching around nothing at the thought of his rough hands all over her body and pussy.

Then, he moved around her, appearing in her field of vision and going to a smaller table standing in the corner, grabbing the box of gloves standing on it. Her breath hitched in her throat but he only looked back at her with a raised brow.

“You really thought I’d search you without these?” He asked, placing the box down on the table in front of her, taking one out before he moved behind her again.

She turned her head to look at him, watching as he put on the bright blue glove, just the sound making her whimper.

“Usually we find drugs placed in someone’s ass, so I guess I’ll start there, huh?” His non-gloved hand pressed her flat onto the surface, laying between her shoulder blades, her ass perfectly sticking out for him. “Or do you want to admit to something before I start?”

She shook her head firmly, gasping loudly when she felt his fingers spread her cheeks before he spit onto her asshole, hearing him laugh at her strangled moan.

One finger pressed against the tight ring of muscle, eliciting a moan from her as it slipped inside. This was far from the first time he had put his thick fingers inside of her ass, but the situation just made the sensation feel so much better.

“Where did you even get them?” He asked almost casually as he spread her open, pushing his finger in and out of her carefully.

She moaned, fingers curling into the hard metal surface of the table, biting her lip.

“Friend of a friend, owed me a favour.” She responded, breathless.

“Fucking hell, chiquita.” He muttered, carefully adding a second finger.

A moan slipped past her lips, her own hand coming up to cover her mouth, muffling her noises while he scissored his fingers, opening her wider.

God, he was thorough in his inspection.

“Hid them pretty well, bebesita.” Javier said, pushing his fingers in all the way to the knuckle, wiggling them around and laughing at the strangled noises that left her. “But I suppose your ass is empty.”

Pulling his fingers out, he sighed, the sound of latex snapping appearing behind her before the crumpled glove landed on the table next to her and he took a new one.

“Wish it wasn’t.” She mumbled, cheek pressed into the cold metal, looking back at him. The sharp smack of his hand on her ass echoed in the room, making her cry out before she bit into her closed fist. It was a nice feeling, the pain bleeding into pleasure, his fingers now rubbing against the sopping entrance of her pussy.

“You really get off on this, don’t you?” He chuckled, pressing two fingers into her without warning, making her squirm and try to adjust her stance. “Me searching your ass? That’s what you wanted, didn’t you? Getting your ass searched and then your pretty pussy?”

She gripped his fingers tight, still pumping in and out of her, stretching her open, his words only turning her on more.

“I can feel your pussy answering me, bebesita, but I need an answer from you for the record.” Scissoring his fingers, she moaned into her hand, her eyes closing.

“Yes.” She breathed out, whining when he pressed a third finger in, the stretch bringing that sweet pain with it that she loved. “That’s what I wanted, yes!”

He chuckled, his hand between her shoulder blades pressing down harder as he leaned onto it, his fingers knuckle deep inside of her.

“Must’ve hidden them pretty well, still can’t find a damn thing, chiquita.”

She felt so close already, his gloved fingers stroking along her inner walls expertly, her knees beginning to wobble.

“Javi- Mhmm, ‘m good at hiding things.” Her words came out slurred and incoherent, biting down into her fist harder.

His brow raised at her words, curling his fingers.

“So you do have something hidden here?” He asked with a grin, stroking along that good spot of hers again and again, watching as her eyes rolled into the back of her head. “Did you just admit that you do, chiquita?”

Her orgasm took her by surprise, knocking all air out of her lungs as she pulsed around his fingers, moaning against her fist, feeling the intense waves reach every part of her body as she shook on the table.

But he didn’t stop, using the gush of wetness to work another finger into her, paying close attention to how she squirmed and moaned at the feeling, eyes closed in bliss. This was new for either of them, but she seemed to enjoy the stretch.

“Gonna have me put my whole hand up your pussy to get it?”

She was already dripping down his hand and the inside of her thighs, wetting his watch as he kept pumping in and out, four fingers inside of her.

He wondered if she could take his whole fist, in awe of how tight she was around his fingers but also how much she could fit already.

Greedy thing.

“Hope it was worth doing this, bebesita.” He rasped, watching her twitch from the overstimulation, some tears in the corners of her eyes. “Making me fist your tight pussy, think you can take all of it, baby?”

She nodded, unsure if she could take it but wanting to try, the sensation of four fingers already bordering on too much.

“Can take it, can take it.” The words were still slurred, her mind hazy as he worked her open wider. Feeling so full, so nice and stretched open.

“You better, for getting me out here, making sure you don’t have any more drugs hidden anywhere.”

Javier felt like he could cum from this alone, easing the rest of his hand into her slowly after a minute or two, stopping his moments as she let out a strangled moan, both trying to escape from him while also backing into his hand, now inside of her all the way to the wrist.

“Fuck, look at that.” A low whistle accompanied his words before he chuckled. “Taking my whole hand and there’s no drugs hidden anywhere, just wanted me to fist you. Did two weeks really get you that desperate?”

She was right at the edge again, feeling that familiar tug while the stretch threatened to overwhelm her, tears running down her cheek and onto the table.

Couldn’t believe just how full she was, thinking about how huge his hand was. Feeling the cool metal of his watch against her pussy.

“So desperate to get searched by a DEA agent, all because I didn’t have time for you, bebesita. You filthy thing.”

Tensing his fist inside of her, he pushed her over, her entire body convulsing and daring to just collapse if he didn’t press her down onto the table with the hand not currently buried inside of her. Not a single thing was in her head as she rode out her orgasm, boneless and unable to produce much noise.

Just too overwhelmed with the foreign feeling, the slight pain and the pleasure. The fullness. Reaching places inside of her she didn’t thought were possible to reach.

Javier let her ride out the waves before slowly, carefully removing his hand from her, more of her juices dripping over his forearm, over his watch. Utterly in awe of what she had done, suddenly unwilling to simply let her go.

“Nothing.” He said with a hint of disappointment, stripping the glove off of his hand, throwing it to the other one. “A desperate whore and a liar.”

She felt spent, barely registering his hand running along her pussy lips as he knelt down, admiring his work. Pretty and wide for him, he just had to have her.

Not here, though. Javier uncuffed her from the table and helped her sit down on the chair, letting her catch her breath.

“Think I gotta investigate you more thoroughly, chiquita.” He threw the gloves in the trash before coming back to help her get dressed, seeing just how fucked out the was. That would be hard to explain, but he was sure he would find a way.

After all, Javier was good at talking himself out of things.

“Guess you know more about Escobar than I thought you did.”

She weakly smiled back at him, her hand on his shoulder when he helped her stand, pulling up her skirt. Still wobbly, but giggling at least.

“You can search me all you want, you won’t find a thing. I’m just too good.” There was a mischievous twinkle in her eyes, her fingers curling into his shoulder. “I’d love to see you try, though.”

He shook his head, painfully aware of his hard dick straining against his jeans.

No matter how pissed he had been at the beginning of this, he certainly did not feel any of that anger anymore. Impressed with her whole idea and fucking horny because of her.

“Then let’s go and continue this in private, I’m sure I can get you to talk somehow.” He joked, moving behind her to cuff her wrists with a smirk. “The DEA doesn’t have to know about my methods, do they?”

She nodded, trying to look like he hadn’t just shoved his entire fist inside of her, stumbling a little.

“Maybe you can do a more thorough cavity search, Agent Peña.” A giggle left her at the sharp inhale behind her, looking at him over her shoulder. “I could still have something hidden up my ass, you know.”

Oh, she really was crazy.

In a way, he really was glad to have not called her back in so long.

How else would they have found out that she can take much more than just his dick?

#javier pena x reader #javier peña #javier peña smut

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little-lanterns · 8 months ago

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I am obsessed with like only two characters from akn and they both aren't that unpopular but I want to make a post with both of them in it anyway

hortus de escapismo is an important event that serve as build up to zwilingsturme, future seaborn event, and future laterano event where andoain is possibly going to be involved. why? idk just a gut feeling? when I first read the event story I didn't expect much that I will get anything about him but I actually get a lot more than expected which shouldn't surprise me since it is literally the sequel to guide ahead

this is the event where it is revealed how andoain got the idea of what he wants laterano to be, but it is also where it is put into a test if this little paradise could last

this guy isn't in the event at all but it really feels like he should to see the answer to that one question, is it really not possible?

even arturia after witnessing that herself wanted to realize it too

there is also this part that got me giggling. I always find this funny because the title Martyr didn't appear until the very end of guide ahead and it was said by cecilia, so it is unknown who gave that title to him. was it his followers? or is he now famous among the lateran for what he did?

his effect on lemuen is obvious because they were once close, she is the only lateran who understand him, even forgave him for what he did. but what about other lateran? were they too drunk in sweet and explosion that they didn't even notice what he did? well I guess some did because he is a wanted criminal now

I also speculate that the person they are talking about at the beginning and at the end of the event is him. after all this is the guy who is famous for going through all those shit just to ask question to the pope. he seems like the perfect person to ask something that only sankta understand but also held some doubts on it to actually gives a meaningful answer

there were some uncertainties because he called them friends but we know from arturia's oprec that the pope would personally visit each candidate of future saint. so this is the part where I don't like that much. if that's really the guy then it means andoain will be future saint. my impression is, I don't think if he want anything to do with laterano, though I could say the same about arturia

which brings us to the next point, The Disaster.

what we know about it is that laterano and the sankta will be the one affected first. and if what the pope said is true then the Law will also take a hit. what would sankta be without their halo? without their law? without their empathy? idk, it is not only about them, other country will also be affected, it just happen that laterano was able to foresee it. will this push him to help and accept the title of saint? maybe? it is hard to tell when we don't even know where he is and what is he doing

but it is not like Law cares what are the candidates current goal is to be appointed as a saint

there were some clues from fia's oprec but isn't it odd, why would he still go looking for mostima, didn't he find the answer already. seriously where the fuck is this guy

so whatever that laterano event will be it is going to be huge, definitely an 3 weeks/intermezzi event

what does this has to do with my other favourite character? azazel could also mean fallen angel and its symbol resemble sankta. there are no information about it so there is non-zero chance that the leader or founder of azazel is one. which could mean a lot or nothing when it comes to the next laterano event. after all isn't it weird that some small clinic in some ursus city has symbol that resemble a sankta?

but at this point please hYPERGRYPH ITS BEEN 5 YEARS GIVE ME SOME MORE LORE ON AZAZEL I'LL TAKE ANY SMALLEST CRUMB AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

#one day i really need to make tags for my 1 am post but not to day #uhh idk what i was trying to say here #just need to get this out of my system #if i am thinking about this guy for one more second i am going to be insane

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youremyheaven · 9 months ago

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I really loved your post about moon dominant men and women. maybe bc I had a toxic friend like that, i liked that you kinda said a lot of bad stuff about them/criticized their behavior 😭 i LOVED that with my whole RAGE. idk if you can resonate too with all that I'll say, but i remember my friend always wanted to be on a different side than me. she legit accused other people of doing really bad things to her and, or told me "That guy is really abusive" for no apparent reason and pretended as if, since she felt that, then it must be true (also she talked shit about women and PROUDLY believed that if she felt that way about them, it's because they are hiding something/being sus). I used to think she had a good intuition, but she let that thing be blurred by her projections so much that in the end, she wasn't reliable AT ALL and mostly she was just picking up on things about herself and "blaming" others. Reminds me of the meme that says something like "Me saying there are bad vibes in the room but I'm the bad vibes in the room" lol. Also if you showed her proof that, for example, her favorite actor was an abuser or something she always replied "I'm not gonna believe that, there isn't enough proof" she used to believe the dumbest and craziest stuff like birds have cameras, her phone camera is hacked and someone is seeing her?? but if you showed her something REAL and TRUE she didn't believe it at all and she always said something like "hmm im not sure" I remember one day she was telling me that Aquarius was a water sign (it's stupid ik) I showed her screenshots and pics of a book saying Aquarius is an air sign and she said "I don't care, I don't think that's true" she was such a toxic bitch who never apologized for shit because she was incapable of recognizing her shitty behavior. she always talked about her parents as if they were the worst for the smallest dumbest shit like, her dad didn't think buying x was a good idea. One day I was suicidal and she told me that it was too much for her and that she needed to "take time for herself" Selena Gomez who?? and then claimed that I ruined her perception of me bc of that and she couldn't take it anymore. like?? if your friend being depressed victimized and ruined it all for YOU maybe you weren't a good friend to begin with. And it's not like I was draining her every day with my problems bc I'm the type to keep everything to myself and not ask anyone for help. She was the only friend who felt that way about the situation (it affected her so much that it was one of her reasons for deleting me from every social media 2 years later, out of nowhere, and making me feel like im the one who hurt her legit blaming it all on me feeling depressed once) she was also 3x moodier than me, 3x more mentally troubled and she attended parties/meetings with this face 😒 almost EVERY TIME, but if you were sad/angry or disappointed and you showed it, she always made herself the victim or said something like "Yeah that time you cried I wanted to kill you" like babe??? you are always in a bad mood but when someone else was, you dared to take it personally and act like you always do and know better. im really sorry if this was long, but your post helped me process this more than i already did 😭😭😭😭😭

omg bestieee im glad my post could help you😭😩😭 and im so so so sorry that you went through all that

as someone who endured a lot of abuse at the hands of multiple Moon dominant people, i really couldnt hold back on those posts even though I usually dont talk that much shit on any of my astro posts,,

what you said about the hating parents bit took me back to all the times my toxic ex bestie would fight with her parents over the dumbest stuff (her mom didn't let her buy something from the grocery store, im not kidding she had a whole meltdown bc of this) and what u said about them not giving a shit about your feelings/mental health LMFAO sounds exactly right,, i was sharing some deeply sad stuff and they said "okay i dont want to hear any more" like literally they said that,, i understand how some things can be triggering to hear but ??? there has to be a better way to deal with that situation instead of telling the person who is having a breakdown that u "can't hear it". she never apologised or saw anything wrong with her behaviour either. all the empathy i never received has pissed me off so much man, i feel u,, i feel so wronged for having put up with that stuff and for thinking that this is just how it is.

anybody reading this, please cut those fcking people out. they dont care, they never will and you will lose your time and energy on things you're better off without. cut them out. zero explanation. you dont owe them one.

#moon

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longlivefanfic-net · 2 years ago

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Make Her Happy

Summary: Robin has become an almost constant presence in your apartment, which isn’t a problem until you realize you’ve got a little crush. When you explain why you’re acting weird to Steve, your boyfriend, he decides to take things into his own hands. Steve/Reader and Reader/Robin.

Word count: 7.2k

Content: Mostly smut with perhaps a hint of angst?, F/F and F/M, threesome scene, female receiving head and fingering, penetrative sex, bisexual/pansexual/queer female reader, drinking.

A/N: Robin and Steve are not sexually involved with each other. I kind of struggled with how to set this scene up so that it was very clear that Robin and Steve are 10000% not interested in each other but also like Reader gets to f*ck both of them because like. Jesus h christ they are both just so pretty. Frankly I think this…kind of hints at some queer polyamory for the female reader but ya know what. Thats what i would like to see and this is my world babes. Idk this might lead to more polycule-esque fics with nights with Robin interrupted by Steve and vice versa. Also special thanks to @thatsonezesty13 who requested bi!Reader <3

You weren’t sure when it had happened. It had been slow, gradual. Robin had always spent a lot of time at your’s and Steve’s apartment, usually bringing a VHS she wanted to watch or funny stories about the people she had talked to at work that day. One night, she had come over late, letting herself into your apartment with her spare key and a paper bag full of cheap tacos, interrupting you and Steve on the couch. When you had looked up from between his arms at her, haloed in the doorway by the glow of the hallway lights, you had blamed the adrenaline from Steve’s hands for the nervous twinge in your chest. Another time, Robin had been sitting on the floor, leaning back against your legs while you ran your fingers through her hair and she bemoaned the tragic state of the lesbian dating scene in Indiana, and when she had turned to look at you with little pieces of her hair askew from your hands all you could think was beautiful, she’s so beautiful. Now, you were basically trying to avoid her: an impossible feat considering how often she was in your apartment (she really practically lived there, as often as she had started staying the night, crashing on your couch and insisting on Steve making pancakes most mornings).

Steve had noticed. You really didn’t want him to notice, but he was so good with people and he always picked up on the smallest things and, as he had pointed out last week, he’d have to be stupid not to notice when his two best girls were acting weird. You had tried to explain that you weren’t being weird–you just, maybe, needed some space from Robin. He had offered to kick her out, saying he’d make her stay at her own place for a few nights, and you had said no. You held his hand, chewed on your lip, and told him you liked having Robin around. When his eyes had narrowed in confusion, you had put his hand in your lap, leaning against Steve’s broad chest, and quietly–very quietly–informed him that you just had…a little “girl crush,” as you called it. It was nothing; you had had a few of them before, but you still loved Steve more than anything in the world. For you, Robin was kind of like if Phoebe Cates walked into the Family Video store one day and told Steve she wanted to hang out with him. Obviously, you knew he would still be attracted to her–how many times had he watched Fast Times now?--but, at the end of the day, you assumed he would still come home to you, even if it meant bringing Phoebe with him. Steve had looked down at you, understanding dawning over his face, and asked “She’s your Phoebe Cates? I mean–Phoebe Cates?” You had just laughed, explaining that you had meant it more metaphorical than literal as he rubbed broad, warm circles into your back. A few mornings later, after Robin had walked out your front door with a leftover chocolate chip pancake in hand, Steve had wrapped his hands around your hips and pulled you tight into his chest, nipping playfully at your neck before he pulled back to look at you. “So,” he had asked, his face completely neutral, “You like me and girls? Or you like guys and girls, and me and Robin are the ones you like of those?” You had half laughed, interlocking your fingers around his neck. “I just like who I like, Steve,” you had said. “When I find someone attractive…I don’t know, I just don’t really think about if they’re a boy or a girl.” Steve had nodded, his uncombed morning hair flopping low over his forehead as he bent his neck to press a kiss to your cheek. “As long as you still like me,” he had said, pulling back with a playful grin.

Robin had come over again tonight–not that that was a surprise–and you had moved to the other side of the couch than where you usually sat, making Steve sit on her usual end so she’d put all of her weight on him instead of you. For good measure, you drew your legs up beside you, curling them against your body as you leaned into Steve’s chest. He wrapped an arm around you, planting a kiss on the top of your head, then reached down to ruffle Robin’s hair. Something about the moment made you feel like you were in some sort of sitcom, but when Robin turned around to grin at you over her shoulder you couldn’t help the way your breath hitched. Steve’s arm tightened around you at the slight change, and you looked up to see him looking at Robin with the light of an idea behind his eyes. “Robin,” he asked, tentatively. “How’d your date last weekend go?” Robin groaned theatrically, throwing her head back against Steve’s legs. “Oh my god,” she said, “Don’t even ask me about that again. I am so tired of the women in this town. They’re all either terrible and, frankly, kind of stupid, with, like, no real taste, you know, I mean the movie she wanted to see? God, it was so bad, but they’re all like her–or straight, I guess,” Robin said, turning to look at you with a grin. “See, you’re lucky Harrington. Life’s easy for you. You just asked out the prettiest girl you could find and it turned out she was incredible and smart and sexy, too.” You blush, the heat snaking over your face, at Robin’s words. Steve just nodded, looking like he had just snapped two puzzle pieces together.

“You know what we should do tonight?” Steve asked. “Eat junk and watch TV?” Robin asked, an eyebrow cocked. She already had a half empty package of marshmallows next to her on the floor, something you and Steve kept stocked in the pantry almost exclusively for her. “We should drink,” Steve said, standing up suddenly. You fell back on to the couch, and peered up at him, confused. Steve just looked between you and Robin, his hands on his hips, and said, “Yeah. Drinks,” before disappearing into the kitchen. “I am not drinking too much tonight, Harrington,” Robin called after him. He came back in with a six pack, setting it down next to Robin as she grimaced. “Beer, Harrington? What is this, a frat party?” “Shut up, it’s what we’ve got–unless you feel like walking to the liquor store.” Robin grimaced but pulled one of the brown bottles out of the cardboard case, taking the bottle opener Steve handed her and popping the top. Without even looking at you, she passed the slightly hissing bottle over as you sat up, pulling a second one out for herself. You took a long pull from the cool glass, the taste of hops smooth over your throat as you looked at Steve, one eyebrow raised. He shrugged, smiling, and mouthed “trust me.” Blinking quickly, you looked away, and noted Robin watching the exchange between the two of you. “Everything…okay?” She asked, her voice rasping. “Never better,” Steve answered, chipper, as he took his seat back between the two of you.

“Is there a reason you’ve got me drinking tonight, Harrington?” You asked. You didn’t usually refer to Steve by his last name–except when you put Mr. in front of it–but anytime you were around Robin, it just came out. He looked over at you, grinning, and cocked his head to the side. “I just thought my two best girls might benefit from loosening up a little,” he said, all charm as Robin snorted. “What?” He said, bumping her with his leg. “As if you’re anything other than uptight.” “I am not uptight,” Robin answered, “I am a reasonable amount of tight.” She blushed at her own word choice, then rolled her eyes, turning back to face the TV as she muttered “shut up” before Steve said anything. Steve looked at you, watching the taut skin of your neck shift as you took a deep pull from your bottle, swallowing it down. He kept his eyes flicking between you and the TV screen for the next twenty minutes, only half-heartedly watching the cheesy sitcom Robin had turned on as soon as she had come in the door. That’s how it went with Robin: walk into a room, find a friend, and turn off whatever part of her brain held her back from giving into her impulses. She had changed the TV channel while you were watching something on more than one occasion, had even walked into your home and started cooking dinner with the groceries in your fridge, but nothing topped the time she had walked into a party at one of Steve’s old friend’s house, seen a guy feeling up a girl who was passed out on the couch, and immediately lifted her booted foot up, kicked him–hard–directly in the shoulder and yanked him off the girl. The three of you had been thrown out of the party not five minutes after arriving–taking Robin’s rescue back to the front yard with you where you found someone the bleary eyed girl recognized.

Robin’s eyes were glued to the screen, apparently unaware of the looks you were giving Steve behind her back. You had fallen back against your side of the couch instead of curling against him, suspicious of what had driven his sudden interest in drinking an entire six pack that would usually last him a week over the course of one night. Steve was adamantly avoiding your gaze, though he did occasionally turn his head to you. He seemed to be examining the bottle in your hand, and when his eyes happened to meet yours he would only pause long enough to widen his eyes, or turn up the corner of his mouth, or once–as you got close to finishing your beer–wink at you. Finally, you took one last swallow from your drink, upending the bottle into your mouth with your head tilted back against the arm of the couch as you drained the last drop. When you straightened your neck, Steve was turned to you, fully grinning now, and he reached out one of his long-fingered hands to snag the room-temperature brown glass out of your hands. Your eyebrows slid down, furrowing over your eyes as you watched him. You couldn’t be sure but, in the glow from the TV, it looked like he had only had maybe half of his own drink; you looked at Steve, your earlier interest in his actions starting to form a knot in your stomach as you pulled the corner of your bottom lip in between your teeth. The TV suddenly played out the sharp notes of the closing theme for Robin’s show, and she set her own empty glass bottle on the floor next to her before pulling another out of the pack. She turned around, glancing at you before turning to Steve. You could almost swear you saw the slightest shade of pink cross under her freckles when she saw you already looking at her, but the light in the room was so dim you couldn’t be sure. “What’s the plan, Harrington?” Robin asked. “Should I open another?” Steve nods, and asks her to hand you one as well. When she does, your fingers brush and you swear Robin pulls her fingers back just a second too fast, almost letting the bottle drop.

“Let’s do something fun,” Steve says, looking at you. The knot in your stomach constricts and you’re sure that whatever he’s about to spring on you is what he’s been working up to all night. “What would be fun for you right now, Steve?” You ask. You’re on high alert–but you’re also fascinated. Steve’s never done something like this before, keeping something from you (though he’s not doing a particularly good job of hiding whatever it is), and you’re anxious to see what, exactly, has motivated this within him. “I want to play a game,” he says. He stands up suddenly, reaching out for your hand and, when you put your fingers in his, he yanks you to your feet. “Sit,” he says, and you sink to the floor next to Robin. He sits down on the chill ground as well, crossing his denim-clad legs as he settles across from the two of you. Reaching out, he grabs you by the hips and slides you, just barely, to move you between him and Robin, making a clear triangle between the three of you. He reaches over to Robin, grabbing her empty beer bottle from beside her and placing it in the middle of the three of you. “Spin the bottle!” He exclaims, gesturing widely with his outstretched palms. “Gross, Harrington,” Robin says, taking another pull from her bottle. “I don’t want to kiss you.” “Oh, get over yourself, Buckley,” Steve groans, rolling his eyes. “I need something harder than beer to be willing to kiss you.” “The only point to this game, then, is for you and your girlfriend to kiss, and I’m sure the two of you do plenty of that, unless you want–” Robin goes silent, cutting herself off in the middle of her sentence. Steve’s eyes flicker towards you and Robin’s faces in turns. The flush is slower in it’s creeping over your skin as a result of the alcohol, but it’s definitely still under there. It builds, burning brighter as you say in feigned casualness, “It might be fun.”

Robin swallows, her throat bobbing with the pressure of her forcing her obvious nerves down. “Do you…want to play, Robin?” You ask quietly. She looks at Steve, and his eyebrows lift slightly. “Yeah,” she says, her voice hushed. “As long as I don’t have to kiss Harrington, I want to play.” Steve smiles, reaching out his long, pale hand for the bottle. The sound of glass spinning over the floor is entrancing, and the three of you fall silent to listen to it echo in the stillness. When it lands on Robin, she groans loudly. “See, I knew it, oh, don’t you dare, Harrington–” Robin growls as Steve moves towards her. “Hold on, just be still for, like, one second, you little–” Steve presses a quick, chaste kiss to Robin’s cheek and she yowls like a stray cat fighting for dumpster scraps as she wipes her wrist over her cheek dramatically. “That’s it! That’s it, I swear!” Steve protests, sitting back with his hands up in a gesture of peace. “Disgusting,” Robin mutters. “Yeah, well, mutual,” Steve says, and his eyes betray that he’s on the verge of a laugh–likely at Robin’s dramatic reaction. The kiss had been like something shared on Christmas days and, frankly, you had seen Steve kiss Robin’s forehead with more passion last year on New Year’s Eve. Your own lips were right on the edge of a grin, actually; Robin and Steve, together, always brought out a sense of family that just felt joyful to you. “Anyway,” Steve says, “You get to spin now.” Robin sniffs, rolling her eyes in return, and her hand reaches for the bottle. You’ve never noticed before how smooth her hands are, how soft the skin looks. The polish over her clipped nails is chipping slightly, and you can see what you think must be a small scar on one of her knuckles. When the bottle stops spinning, pointing at Steve, you burst into giggles, drunk on either the alcohol of the budding euphoria in your stomach.

“See,” Robin says, “I knew I shouldn’t have agreed to play your stupid little kid game, Harrington!” “Yeah,” Steve replies, pushing his fingers up through his hair, “That doesn’t count. Spin again.” Robin looks at you, quickly, then spins the bottle. She’s spun it harder this time, and it seems like the three of you are waiting forever for the glass to stop grinding gently over your floors. When it does come to a stop, pointing vaguely in your direction, the two of you look at each other. “What do you think?” She asks. “Is it close enough?” “Close enough,” you say, and you use your hands to shift your weight forward, coming closer to her on all fours. When you can touch her, you duck your head slightly, pressing your lips to hers gently. Her lips are smooth and they feel damp, like she’s applied her favorite chapstick before coming over. You start to pull back–worried you’re going to make her uncomfortable–when she finally leans into the kiss as well, using one of her hands to cradle the back of your neck and hold your mouth to hers. When her hand loosens, you pull back and look at her. This close, you can tell that there is a definite blush spreading over her cheeks, and her eyes seem wider than usual. Her lips are rosy, the delicate cupid’s bow seeming almost to quiver as she breathes quickly through the small gap between her top and lower lip. Almost in unison, the two of you turn to look at Steve. His pupils are wide, his eyes darker, and he’s got a faint blush running up his own neck. You start to sit back, immediately prepared to apologize, when you notice the slight bulge in his jeans. “Steve,” you whisper, your head tilting slightly. “Are you enjoying yourself, babygirl?” He asks. You turn, looking back at Robin, who’s blush darkens, and nod. “I want to see you happy,” Steve says from behind you, and you look at Robin’s eyes. She’s watching your mouth, her pupils dilated when she makes eye contact with you.

“Robin?” You whisper. She blinks quickly, her long lashes blowing her eyes clear. “Is this okay?” You ask her. Her face is still only inches from yours, the heat radiating off her body beating against your face like a warm summer breeze across your skin. Robin’s lower lip disappears into her mouth, gnawing it between her teeth like she does when she knows she’s said something really stupid, and she turns to look at Steve. You hear his smooth voice across the silence of your living room: “It’s okay with me.” Without ever answering your question, Robin wraps her delicate fingers around the nape of your neck, pulling your face to hers as she pushes her lips against yours fiercely. The electricity between the two of you is instant, is chemical–maybe pushed to the surface by the beer, which you can taste in Robin’s mouth as her lips open and her tongue slides over yours. You tilt your head, pressing your nose into her face as you kiss her aggressively–there’s a delicate balance to kissing Robin, one that’s wholly different from your experiences with Steve. She feels gentle, almost timid under your fingers as they slide over her throat, pinching slightly as you desperately try to find a place to hold her. Robin’s movements are quick, rapid in their lightness, like she knows you’ll pull back soon. You push your weight into her; she leans back, slightly, as you use your body to press her against the couch. You sit back, suddenly, and she freezes. For a second, you just look at her: the dim lights in your apartment are glowing against her collarbone, her cheekbones, and her eyelids are drooping hazily. Her mouth is still puckered, slowly pulling short breaths that raise her shoulders and make her chest heave. You slide closer to her, closing the last of the distance between the two of you as you touch your mouth to hers and place your hand over her heartbeat, letting it’s rapid pulse echo through your own body.

When you finally pull back, head dizzy and hands shaking, you sit back on your heels and truly, deeply stare at Robin. There’s a lot to be said for the way it feels to live out your fantasies: kissing Robin was different than you had ever dreamed, but already you were eyeing her body, looking for the next place you could press your mouth to. When you turned on your knees, bumping the forgotten brown bottle and sending it rolling under the couch, Steve was staring at you. You tucked your chin slightly, locking your jaw, and traced your eyes up, over his body as he sat cross-legged. When your eyes got to his face, you were prepared to see anger, mistrust, maybe even a smirk; what you saw instead shocked you. Steve’s eyes were wide, his jaw loose, and the look in his eyes was the kind you usually only saw when you had him under your thighs, pinning him down to your shared bed. You blinked at him, once, slowly, and he immediately held his arms open to you. “Come here, baby,” he half growled, and you closed the gap between the two of you while Robin panted behind you. Settling yourself over Steve, you straddle his hips with your thighs, snaking your fingers up over his neck and into his long hair. He tilts his head up slightly, and his lips move as he silently begs you to touch him. Slowly, making him wait for it, you dip your head to his mouth. You kiss him more gently than you kissed Robin–where kissing Robin was fast and hard, kissing Steve is slow and soft. His lips are wide, settling against yours patiently as you administer feather light touches to his skin. Your lips slide, slowly, down to his chin and over his jawline, and you go as slow as you can stand to. He moans under you, quietly, and you can feel him aching against the seam of his jeans as you draw out each second away from his skin.

“Um,” Robin’s voice is hushed from behind you. “Should I–I mean, I should leave, I think.” You pull your mouth back from where you’re sucking Steve’s throat, whipping your head back towards Robin quickly. “Don’t,” you say before you have time to consider the word. “Look,” Robin says, raising her hands to chest level, palms out–a classic Steve Harrington, peace bringer, move. “I don’t know what, um, foreplay this is that you two are, like, in to or whatever, but I just–” “It’s not foreplay,” Steve says, his voice quiet. “I want her happy.” He’s staring at Robin as he says this, and you feel a blush snake over your body as you bite your lip. “Well, I’m not just here to teach you how to–I don’t know, fucking get your girlfriend off or whatev–” “Hey,” Steve says, a note of offense in his voice. “I don’t need you to teach me anything. She just–I mean, she–” “I have a crush on you, Robin,” you say, your voice small. It’s embarrassing to admit, even though her bottom lip had just been between your teeth minutes ago. Robin looks at you, her sharp eyebrows narrowing together. “But you’re with Steve,” she says, her voice thick with confusion. “You’re not the first girl who’s picked Harrington over me, but I just–” You shake your head at her. “Steve and I got together before I knew I liked you,” you say. “So…you like Harrington. And you like me.” You nod, slowly, watching her eyes narrow as she tries to make sense of what you’ve said. “Steve. You knew she liked me?” He shrugs, nodding slightly. “And you wanted her to kiss me?” You turn back to Steve at Robin’s question, interested in hearing his answer yourself. He reaches out, stroking his thumb over your cheekbone as his fingers settle under your jawbone. “Like I said,” he murmurs, eyes on yours. “I want my babygirl to be happy.”

“Okay,” Robin says, a note of skepticism in her voice. “I still feel like I should leave. You got to kiss me and Steve got to kiss you and everybody’s happy now, so I’m going to–” “You could stay,” you interrupt her. You turn back to Steve, and he’s looking at you with his eyebrows slightly raised. You widen your eyes at him in question and he nods. “Stay the night with us, Robin,” you say, turning back to her. “But I’m…I mean. I’m not like you,” she says. “I don’t want Steve and you, I just want you and I just–” You grin as her words flow out, her mouth moving faster than her brain as usual so she doesn’t even realize she’s said she wants you. “I don’t want you either,” Steve says, half grimacing as he shakes his head at Robin. “I’m not going to touch you; I just want to touch her,” he says, wrapping his thick fingers around your waist at his words. You can’t help the hot feeling of desire that snakes it’s way up from between your thighs at his words, and you feel your breath hitch slightly at his words, causing Steve to squeeze his fingers into your skin slightly. Robin’s eyes flick to his hands on your skin, and the desire in her eyes is palpable. “So, what?” She asks, her voice hushed, eyes on the floor. “I spend the night with the two of you, and then we spend the rest of our lives with the two of you happy and me as some sort of third-wheel?” The pain in her face makes your heart physically feel like it’s breaking, and you can’t stop the way your jaw drops as a tiny hitch of breath breaks out of her throat. “Robin,” you say, gently, watching tears build in her almond-shaped eyes. “You’re always going to be a part of our family.” She raises her face, eyes hopeful as one tear shines it’s way down her cheek, splattering a dark stain on her top; you don’t even decide to reach out her, but suddenly your fingers are waiting in the dim light, a link between her and you, and you and Steve, if she wants to take it. When her fingers slip across yours, you feel a breath loose from your chest that you didn’t know you were holding. You gently tug her wrist, pulling her body to yours, as you turn back to Steve. He looks up at you again, grinning, and whispers, “Happy?” Instead of replying, you just press your grinning mouth against his.

When Robin wraps her arms around your waist from behind, bringing her hands up to cup your breasts as you lean forward over Steve’s lap, you feel your heart racing through all of your skin, the pulse beating like the thin skin between you and Steve, between you and Robin, is too much separation. Your core is hot, already aching with a soft, slow need for something, someone. You rub your hips against Steve’s lap, delighting in the sensation of your body over his and the way Robin’s arms squeeze you slightly tighter to keep her torso pressed to your back as you move. Her head lowers to the space between your shoulder and neck, sliding her lips down over your pulse dancing along the side of your throat, and she nips at you softly. The gasp she elicits breaks through your mouth right as Steve’s fingers come up under your jaw, pulling your chin to angle your mouth to his. His lips are soft against yours, and the wide, flat of his palm snakes up your side to your breast, sliding his fingers between Robin’s to squeeze your soft skin. You feel grateful, suddenly, that you had thought this was a casual night-in originally, as Steve’s thick fingers pinch and roll your nipple unhindered by a bra. You gasp into his mouth, and Robin’s hand on your other breast quickly begins mimicking Steve’s actions. It it almost overwhelming, this feeling of two sets of hands sliding over you, tickling your skin, teasing and pinching you, and you have to break your mouth away from Steve’s just long enough to gasp, trying to force as much air as you can down your throat.

“You okay, baby?” Steve asks, burrowing his head along the side of your neck Robin has left untouched so far. His hair brushes against your jaw, tickling slightly, as Robin presses her teeth into your skin on the other side. You want to tell them, both, that you feel incredible, that your body feels like it’s got the sun tethered under your skin, that you want both of them to touch you like this for the rest of your life, but all that comes out of your mouth is a slight whimper. Robin pulls her head back, and you feel her turn to look at Steve. “Is she okay?” She asks, a note of panic in her voice as the same sound comes out of you a second time. “She will be,” Steve says, and you can hear the sadistic tone to his voice that means he’s going to give you exactly what you’re already begging for. He runs his tongue over your throat, pausing with his lips lightly against your ear. “Want us to take you to the bedroom, baby girl?” Your fingers tighten, knotting in his hair, and the other hand reaches behind you for Robin, sliding up her neck to tighten in her long strands of hair as well. Steve sits back, slightly, and slips you off his lap on to the floor. You would whine, but he’s pressed you directly against Robin and you take the opportunity to tighten your hand on her neck and bend her head down to kiss you. Your mouth is hungry against hers, hard and desperate as you seek her touch. You sense Steve standing up in front of you, and you pull your mouth away from Robin’s to look at him as he leans down, slipping his arms around your thighs and lifting you, wrapping your thighs around his waist. He looks over his shoulder at Robin still panting on the floor. “You coming?” You turn to look at her just in time to see her flush at his words before giving a tense nod. She stands quickly, following Steve as he carries you back to the bedroom.

He sets you down in the center edge of the mattress, the soft comforter tickling the back of your knees as his fingers wrap around the hem of your shirt, pulling it directly over your head and exposing your breasts. The air is cool against your skin, and your nipples harden again. Steve can’t stop himself from letting his tongue wet his lips and, when he sees you smile in return, he drops his head, his hair tickling your collarbones as his tongue slides over your soft skin. You gasp, wrapping your hands around the back of his head to keep him there as his fingers slide down, hooking in the sides of your shorts and underwear. He pulls back suddenly, his large hands on your shoulders as he pushes you down to the mattress before hooking them back against your hips to push the fabric there off of your skin. Standing in between your legs, your flushed skin making the air feel cooler and forcing you to be overly aware of your nudity, Steve strips his own shirt off, unbuckles his jeans, and lets them slide to the floor. He’s staring at you, his boxers tight in the center where his erection is bulging. You turn your head to the side, however, looking for Robin. She stands, uncertain, at the edge of the room. Her eyes are wide, and you can’t help but notice that the fingers of one of her hands are resting over her own breast, squeezing slightly. “Come here,” you whisper, your voice rasping almost like hers does. Robin’s eyes flick to Steve again, and he nods at her, smiling slightly. With this permission granted, Robin crosses her hands over her waist, grabbing the hem of her shirt and pulling it up; she tosses it on the floor, next to your own, and slips her pants off to leave in a puddle of fabric on the floor. In her underwear, she walks to the mattress you’re sprawled on and climbs up, her knees coming slowly closer to your torso.

Robin places one arm over your torso, and the fingers of the other slip down your skin. Your skin pebbles under her touch, and the heat of your blush can’t bring the gooseflesh back down. You bring your hand up to her small hip, sliding your fingers against her skin as you loop them under her the sides of her underwear. You look up at Robin’s face over you, and she nods slightly. Your fingers pull the fabric down slightly and her own hands help you, bringing the fabric between her knees before she manipulates them over her legs to toss on the floor behind her. She leans down over you, pressing her mouth against yours again, as Steve rubs slow circles with his thick fingers over your thighs. Your hand slips from Robin’s hips, lower down to her soft skin, pressing into her sex with the pads of your fingers and she moans into your mouth, the sound low and angelic. You take this as permission, and slide your middle finger along her slit, feeling the thick moisture there as she stifles a groan against your mouth. You run your fingers against her again, taking delight in the way her hips roll over your hand. Before either of you can think about it, you slide your middle and ring fingers into her entrance, a slight push allowing you to glide inside of her to your knuckles. She gasps, her open mouth on yours, and you take the opportunity to snag her lower lip between your teeth and bite gently. The moan she lets out reminds you of all the other sounds you’ve heard her make before, but it’s gentler. Usually, she sounds like a cat, one frequently on the verge of scratching, but now, here, on your fingers, she has turned to a kitten who cries out gently as your thumb brushes over her swollen clit.

You continue to pump your hand in and out of her tight warmth, using your thumb to circle her clit as you do, and she rolls her hips, fucking herself on your fingers. Her head shifts back, slightly and she whimpers softly, a honeyed “fuck” dropping off her tongue as you feel the first of her tightenings around your digits; Steve takes this moment to dig his thumbs into the inside of your thighs, using his fingers to stroke faster circles over your skin. You have to stop yourself from increasing the pace of your hand, desperate to bring her to her edge and send her over, desperate to watch Robin’s face contort as her body does. You increase the pressure of your thumb just slightly, knowing you’ve done the right thing when a high pitched moan snakes out of her mouth. Finally, she tosses her head back completely, the sounds coming out of her mouth completely animalistic as her eyebrows slide together and her mouth drops open. Her chest is heaving, and her fingers claw into the comforter around you. You feel a moment of satisfaction despite your own need, but it is cut short by the distraction of Steve’s mouth against your inner thigh. You gasp, still shifting your fingers inside of Robin as her aftershocks subside, and Steve runs his tongue up your center. “Fuck,” you exhale, and he stands up, placing himself in between your thighs with a self-satisfied grin at capturing your attention. His boxers have disappeared while you were distracted by Robin, and his hand is wrapped around his erection, pumping slowly as he watches your face. With a slight smile, you nod at him and Steve buries himself in you to his base. You brush your thumb over Robin’s clit again at the same time, and for a moment the room is filled with the sound of all three of you gasping at the same time.

Steve waits, placing his fingers around your hips as you adjust to the feeling of him inside of you. “Okay, babygirl?” He asks, quietly, his hair slipping over his forehead. You nod and he begins shifting his hips, pushing himself in and out of you as his thumbs press into your skin. Despite the pressure of his hands, you still roll your hips against him, desperate for more friction–he feels good inside of you, filling you perfectly, but you need more somehow, more contact. He takes the hint, bringing one of his hands down to place his palm over your mound as his thumb slips in between your folds to rub long, languid strokes against the sensitive bundle of nerves above where the two of you are joined. You gasp, your head rolling back into the soft mattress, but it still somehow isn’t enough. You turn your head, looking at Robin as she watches your face contort with the sounds working their way out of your chest, and you whimper. “What is it, baby?” Steve asks, his pace faltering slightly. “What do you need from me?” You shake your head, eyes still on Robin. “Do you need Robin?” You nod, jaw clamped together against the sounds trying to burst out of your mouth. Steve slows his movement inside of you, starting to pull out, and you whip your head back to look at him. “No,” you practically growl, and he stills. “I want you inside me,” you say, and the side of his mouth tilts up as he slides back into you again. He runs his hands under your thighs, lifting you slightly and pulling you down just an inch or two to settle your body farther down on his length while he stands at the edge of the bed. You moan, softly, and look back at Robin. “What do you want from me, babygirl?” Robin’s use of Steve’s pet name for you makes your heart flutter in your chest, and you know he’s feeling a sense of pride right now. “I want you,” you say, and it comes out as a whine. She blushes slightly, turning her head to share a grin with Steve at the end of the bed. “Tell me exactly what you want,” she says, reaching a hand out to brush her fingers over a strand of your hair that has stuck to your forehead as you sweat. “I want you on my mouth,” you blurt out, and her eyes go wide with desire. You turn back to look at Steve, whose eyebrows are raised as he fails to bite back a grin.

“Anything for you, babygirl,” Robin says, and she lifts herself up, settling her hips over your face. Steve slowly begins to pick up his pace again, thrusting in to your molten core as your tongue slowly slides in between Robin’s lips. She sighs quietly, settling more of her weight around you as your hands slide up her torso to squeeze her breasts over your head. Steve is moaning slightly, his fingers tightening around your thighs, and you decide to skip the foreplay with Robin’s body, wrapping your lips around her clit and sucking. She gasps, and when you lightly graze your teeth against her you can feel her thighs shake around your face. The combined pressure of her earlier orgasm and watching you get fucked by Steve has kept her close to a second orgasm, and you can feel her core tense over you as you run your tongue over the swollen bundle of nerves in between your lips. With Robin’s orgasm so close already and the feeling of Steve filling you, you feel your own muscles start to tighten. Steve takes his signal from your body, bringing one of his hands up to press lightly against your stomach, and you are suddenly moaning into Robin’s warmth, still desperately working your tongue against her as your muscles hitch inside your body, bringing you crashing over the edge Steve has spent hours working you towards since he first suggested drinking, and you almost worry you’re going to go blind as your legs shake and white pinpoints of light flicker over your vision. Robin moans as well, and you feel her come over your face, dripping down your chin as she bucks her hips against your hands still desperately holding her in place. Steve is the last to finish, his soft grunts turning into low moans of “fuck, babygirl, fuck” as his fingers bruise your skin and he buries himself in you, letting his orgasm fill the deep need inside of your core. His cum is thick as he twitches inside of you and his hands claw at your skin desperately as your aftershocks quiver around him, pulling his cock further into you as he fucks you through his orgasm, pushing the heavy mixture of his seed and your arousal back out of your body with each thrust.

Finally, there is quiet in the bedroom except for the sounds of the three of you panting. Robin lifts her legs from around your face, sliding over to one side of the bed before she leans down to kiss you again, moving her tongue in between your lips to taste the mixture of your mouth and her orgasm and wiping your chin softly with her fingers. You sit up, just enough to slide your body back more fully on to the mattress, and lay back down, feeling the plush come up behind every pulse point of your skin. Robin settles down next to you, turning on her side so her face is tilted to yours and you can watch the flush slowly recede under her skin as her breathing slows. She gently puts one hand over your breastbone, watching her own fingers move as you inhale. Steve is the last to join you on the bed, still breathing heavy as he settles himself on his side next to you. He buries his head in the skin of your neck, taking a deep inhale of your scent as he presses his lips to the spot under your ear. “Are you happy, baby girl?” He asks. Your eyelids feel heavy, your body spent and satiated, and your heart–your heart feels like, if they could see it right now, it would be shining a nearly blinding golden light of joy. You nod, and he sighs. Robin, quietly, says “That’s a yes, right?” and you almost laugh at her, but you just turn your head to her and smile before nodding again. She smiles and then purrs almost as she settles herself closer to you. Steve wraps an arm around your ribs, slipping his fingers around the top of your stomach as he pushes his torso closer to yours. “Harrington,” Robin rasps, voice thick with sleep already. “You’re touching me.” “Then move over,” Steve says, yawning, but she stays where she is, already asleep. “We’re going to need a bigger bed,” Steve mutters, and the room fills with the sound of their quiet breathing.

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