#and its not exactly a hard voice to do in english or anything...

[just-a-sewer-goblin]

Butcher!Simon x gn!reader Part 8 continuation of your little date, I hope you enjoy! Also haven't proofread it because I didn't want to make you all wait another week for it. Sorry. You're welcome to point out errors to me. English words were hard this time, sorry if some of it is redundant. Part 7 | COD Masterlist | Part 9

Simon watches you from the corner of his eyes while you two walk alongside each other through the park. You’re tossing a ball for Wraith and the guard dog basically turned into an overgrown puppy at the sight of the toy.

It’s gotten late and after you spent the entire afternoon in the Café talking, Wraith needed a walk. Instead of saying goodbye you invited Simon to tag along. That’s a win, right? It’s a big step. You voluntarily decided to spend more time with him and Simon can feel himself vibrate with excitement.

“So an ex-soldier. What exactly did you do?”, you ask him while you toss Wraith’s ball for the thousandth time. You turn your pretty face towards him and he meets your eyes, puts his hands into his pockets and slightly shrugs his shoulders.

“Spec Ops.”, is his simple answer and you furrow your brows.

“Spe- what?” The confusion in your voice is adorable and Simon balls his fists, stuffs them deeper into his pockets so he doesn’t do something stupid (like pull you in and kiss you breathless).

“Special Operations. We weren’t really deployed somewhere permanently, instead they sent us wherever we were needed. Lots of stuff I am not allowed to talk about.”, he explains and wonders if you’ll be scared of him again.

When he looks at you, your eyes are wide. “Oh.”, you mutter and seem to think hard. It grows quiet for a minute and a small smile finds its way onto Simon’s lips. You’re chewing your lips again, seemingly troubled and who the fuck allowed you to look so adorable doing that.

“What is it, sweetheart.”, he asks, his voice warm and soft. He really hopes you can’t hear the lovesick undertone.

“I don’t know what I’m allowed to ask.”, you explain and grin self-conscious. He wants to lick the awkwardness off your lips (whoa okay, he really needs to get his thoughts in check).

Instead of doing that like a total creep, he tells you: “You can ask whatever you want, sweetheart. We’ll see what I can answer.”

You nod and think again. So far you haven’t protested his continued use of petnames. He enjoys it, enjoys claiming you with words in a subtle way. The only thing he’d enjoy even more would be you claiming him back. With words, marks, a collar, anything as long as he gets to be yours.

By now you’re walking closely besides him, and every now and then your arms brush against each other. It sends a shock up his arm every time, makes his neck tingle and his jaw clench in an effort to hold back, to not overwhelm you. The last thing he wants is to fuck up with you. As much as he wants to hold you he’d rather endure torture again than make you uncomfortable by coming on too strong.

“Why did you retire?”, you finally ask. “You don’t have to answer if you’d rather not!”, you immediately add in the same breath and Simon chuckles a bit at that.

The way you’re glancing at him seems nervous. It’s oddly endearing, like you’re nervous of misstepping with him. He quite enjoys that look on your face. Making you nervous in a way that doesn’t stem from fear is weirdly thrilling and he wants to keep doing it (would you be nervous if he pushed you up against a tree? If he used his height to his advantage and had you at his mercy? Would you be nervous if you had him at your mercy? God, he wants to be at your mercy).

“’s alright, sweets. Had a mission that went south, can’t really go into details. After that they set us up with a comfortable new life and told us to start over.” He can see the curiousness plain as day in your eyes and he wants to kick the officials who’re keeping him from just telling you everything.

Maybe someday he’ll do it anyway. Fuck if anyone can dictate him what to talk about. He’ll definitely tell you someday. Once he’s yours and sure you won’t run from him for revealing his past.

You cock your head at that. “Can you tell me about your team?”, you ask instead of prying and he could kiss you for that alone (he’s not sure he could have denied you, had you asked with your sweet voice and big curious eyes).

He nods at you and your face practically lights up with a big smile at the opportunity to finally get more info. He’s tempted to tell you every single confidential thing he knows, just to see you light up like that again.

“The lads are all in town. We’re four. Johnny, the fucker, owns a bakery. Flirts with everyone that comes in. People dig the accent.”, he begins and you perk up.

“Accent? It’s not the Scottish one, is it? What was his name…”, you seem to wrack your brain for it. “Mac…. Mac…”

“MacTavish.”, Simon supplies and you beam at him.

“I know that guy! His bread is to die for.”, you claim and Simon can’t really tell you that he already knows you frequent his friends bakery (he might have seen you there when he went to visit Johnny at work; might have worked out the times you go to Johnny’s and visited him more often around that time).

“He seems really nice but…”, you trail off and when you don’t continue Simon gently nudges you with his elbow to go on (you don't seem bothered by the contact, and he's surprised by himself for daring to do that so casually), curious what you might have to say about Johnny. You hesitate.

“Go on, sweetheart.”, he urges gently.

 “… he kinda intimidates me.”, you finally admit and suddenly Simon is grinning like the cat that caught the canary. Johnny intimidates you. Who would have ever guessed.

Johnny, who only recently teased him that ‘the cutie’ would never warm up to him because of his scary mask, intimidates you. Yet scary Simon is the one you’re taking a stroll in the park with. He desperately wants to rub it in Johnny’s face.

“Don’t tell your friend about it, but I can’t ever seem to remember his name. My friends and I refer to him as MacFlurry.”, you add, blushing but grinning mischievously.

Simon stares at you for a second and he can see the smile slowly drop and the apology forming on your lips when he starts laughing. He clutches his ribs, doubling over. Oh he’s gonna have so much fun with this information.

After a few seconds your laughter joins his as you’re helplessly giggling along, his booming laughter infectious.

“That…”, he laughs. “That’s great. Fucking MacFlurry.” He practically wheezes in laughter. Shit, he wants to marry you. Right here, right now.

Your giggle is beautiful and slightly bashful. Simon wishes he could catch it in a jar so he might listen to the heavenly sound again and again.

Finally he catches his breath and straightens up a bit, his eyes are twinkling, creases all around them from smiling so widely. He wants to tug you in close and thank you for existing.

“You know, sweetheart, I could always introduce you to MacFlurry and the others. We’re meeting up this evening. Wanna tag along?”, he blurts out before he can reconsider and your eyes grow wide and alarmed.

[iimplicitt]

WISHFUL THINKING | KA4

pairings: kimi antonelli x unnamed fem! character

summary: kimi has had a bit of a thing for ollie’s best friend for a while now, only issue is, is that she’s under the impression he hates her guts.

song inspo; drive by halsey

warnings: a sprinkle of angst

wc: 2.7k

request; maybe Kimi antonelli, but just like fluff, maybe a bit of angst

It was hard to keep his eyes off her when she came to racing events. No matter what could be going on, no matter what chaos that may be ensuing— she stood out. Not to sound cliche, but Kimi often compared her presence to how rays of sunshine cut through clouds. People couldn’t help but stop and admire her.

It was no surprise that Ollie had been friends with her for so long. When getting into professional racing, it was like friends trickled through a filter. It wasn’t through any fault of their own, really. Life gets busy, schedules don’t match up, and the calls or texts eventually stop.

No matter what life had thrown at Ollie, she was by his side. There was that annoying little feeling buried deep in his chest, just below his heart that felt a bit envious at their relationship. Although Kimi was technically friends with her, it didn’t feel like enough.

He wanted more, and he knew he shouldn’t.

For a whole array of reasons. The obvious being she was Ollie’s best friend. The second, though he might be getting ambitious, is that maintaining relationships is hard in this line of work. Not impossible, that was proven on numerous occasions. But what had also been proven is that they could get messy.

Plus, he wasn’t exactly sure what the full depth of Ollie’s feelings were. He knew the English man cared for her deeply, he knew they hung out all the time, Ollie invited her to races, she would even stay at his house sometimes.

God, those nights where Kimi was invited were the worst.

He could still recall the first night he realised he was done for. Kimi had an early morning the next day so he had called it a night before anyone else, crashing in a spare room Ollie had set up for him. He had found himself looking at her throughout the night. Sure, he had always found her attractive but his throughts typically didn’t expand beyond that. It was such a simple moment, it wasn’t anything to shout at the stars in reckless abandon. Everyone had been out in the back garden for dinner when a bunny had appeared. The way her eyes had lit up, carefully walking towards it. Everyone had expected the bunny to run off at any sudden movement, but it sniffed her hand with its pink nose before cuddling into the scoop of her palm. She refused to move for two hours as everyone talked, not caring her trousers were getting stained by the damp grass. The bunny keeping her company all the while and Kimi watched as the rest of the world faded away from her.

He laid in that bed wide awake for what seemed like hours. Her laugh echoing down the hallway from the kitchen, almost taunting him and he felt his chest constrict with the sound. It was strange, like he was breathing for the first time and his chest had been hallow up until that point.

Ever since then he had looked for her everywhere, sought out the sound of her voice. Part of himself hating that Ollie was the one to make her laugh like that. It was devasting, confusing, and pathetic.

The first day of a race weekend was wrapping up and sweat seemed to cling to him stubbornly no matter how many times he dumped water over his head. His eyes, as always stuck on her and how she smiled up at his friend. He didn’t know what made him ask when Ollie walked up to him, maybe it was the heat or the exhaustion but the words slipped out regardless.

“Do you like her?”

Ollie blinked at him, his cheeks red from the heat. “What?”

Kimi felt childish. They weren’t in primary school but the way his stomach was erupting in butterflies at the mere thought of even holding her hand made him feel like a kid. “You know,” he gestured to her.

Looking over his shoulder in confusion, Ollie spotted who Kimi was talking about and his eyes widened before whipping back around. “No, ew. I mean, she’s lovely. But no.” He then narrowed his eyes as he caught Kimi smile faintly. “Hang on a minute.”

The Italian’s face dropped, not realising he was grinning slightly but he couldn’t help the surge of relief he felt. “What?”

“Do you like her?”

Kimi laughed, trying to brush off the claim but his friend saw through the rouse easily and he wasn’t sure he liked the look that bloomed on Ollie’s face. Not a moment later, Ollie called her over and Kimi felt his stomach drop.

“Wait what—“

“I’m having to do some extra interviews after this, some stuff for Haas. Are you okay if Kimi gives you a ride back to the hotel?”

She nodded, patting Ollie on the arm. “Yeah, that’s fine. Go have fun.”

With a wink in Kimi’s direction, Ollie took off, leaving Kimi to fend for himself. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to thank him or kill him for throwing such an opportunity at him. But opportunity for what? He couldn’t just assume she was interested.

There were small moments he considered, but he was sure he was just being delusional. That she was just being nice. It would be presumptuous of him to think anything could take place, but that small voice in his head urged him to at least try.

Rubbing at the back of his neck awkwardly, he met her eyes once before looking away. It wasn’t like she was necessarily intimidating, but he felt overwhelmed when he got to be close to her. “Let me get changed and then we can go, is that alright?”

She shrugged a shoulder impartiality, casual as ever and he wondered what mental training she went through to always be so calm. No matter what seemed to happen, she kept a level head. She was just…calm. Maybe that’s why the bunny walked up to her so easily, he saw somewhere that animals were really good at reading people and he knew she must’ve had a heart of gold.

“I’ll be quick.” He muttered, turning away and immediately kicking himself. Really? Was that all that he had? He had flirted with girls numerous times with a sense of ease that often surprised himself but he was suddenly robbed of all his language capabilities when it came to her.

She watched him walk away, feeling her heartbeat in her ears and every nerve ending felt on fire. If it weren’t for the wall she was leaning against, she was sure she would’ve fell to the floor.

Panic. She was panicking. And she was going to kill Ollie next time she saw him. The bastard knew she’s had a small crush on Kimi for the past year and then he goes and does this? No warning? Ollie was fully aware how she needed time to prep for things or else she would spiral.

Kimi was going to be giving her a ride back to the hotel. Her mind spun with hopeless longing and all the what if’s, not that there would likely be any. Any time her and Kimi were alone together he looked like he’d rather be anywhere else. He wouldn't look at her, he’d barely utter a word, just…nothing. No inkling of interest beyond kindness and being friends by default through Ollie.

And it killed her. Even now, he seemed less than thrilled at the prospect of driving her. It was confusing, he didn’t used to be like this. He used to joke with her, be more carefree, let her in a little. Then one day she blinked and it was as if she was this thing he couldn’t get rid of no matter how hard he tried. His texts became few and far between, he never called on a whim anymore, he just stopped. She tended to over think in general but it sent her down a rabbit hole of what did i do wrong?

No matter how many times she thought over their interactions, she couldn't think of anything to make him take such a big step back like that. Her mind would wander; maybe she was being too annoying, maybe she was too much, maybe she was too loud, maybe she was too pushy, all these maybes and she felt like she was going insane.

She really shouldn’t be surprised though, she wasn’t necessarily his type. Which, as much as she told herself not to, she compared herself to all the girls he had dated. Having to ground herself in reality that of course it wouldn’t be her. Because why on earth would it be?

Snapping out of her depressing line of thoughts, she watched Kimi approach. Freshly showered and in a new set of clothes with a backpack slung over his shoulder. He met her eyes once before looking away, “Ready?”

“Yeah,” she mumbled, suddenly not overly thrilled by the turn of events. Hopefully the car ride would be quick and the silence not too awkward. She wanted this over with so she could burrow in her hotel room to watch a rom-com and cry.

She followed Kimi to the car he had driven to the track that day, a nice sports car that she couldn’t even begin to fathom the cost of. It didn’t matter how long she had been friends with Ollie, she would never get used to the sheer show of wealth at these events.

Reaching for the door handle, she paused as another hand beat her to it instead, staring at Kimi dumbfounded as he opened the passenger side door for her. He still wasn’t looking at her, but he did gesture with his head for her to get in.

She reality checked the butterflies in her stomach quickly. He could not like her and still be a gentleman, there was no reason to look too deep into it. The leather was clearly expensive and the smell of Kimi’s cologne invaded her senses, smelling warm with a bit of spice and the way it made her head dizzy was a little concerning. No one should smell that good.

Sitting with bated breath, she watched as Kimi walked to the other side before sliding into his own seat. Not sparing her a glance as he got settled and the engine roared to life. Usually she was good with silence but for some reason when it came to the Italian race car driver, the quietness felt suffocating and the air was heavy,

Barely five minutes into the drive she tapped her knees and cleared her throat. Kimi didn’t do anything but raise a brow at her and kept his eyes on the road.

“Kimi?” He hummed in response. “Did I do something to make you hate me all the sudden?”

The way his eyes widened as he turned to look at her for a moment would’ve been comical if it weren’t for the way she felt nauseous as she asked.

“Che? I don’t hate you, why would you say that?”

Despite trying not to, the laugh that left her was painfully dry. “You act like you can’t stand me.”

“Why would you—“

“Kimi, this is the most you’ve spoken to me in months.”

His lips pressed together in a line as he drove, looking at her for another moment before forcing his eyes back on the road. After a moment he sighed, his voice coming out quiet. “I thought distancing myself would help.”

She stared at him, her mind not registering the words properly as she watched the street lights flicker over his face every few seconds. “Help?” Her own voice was a whisper, her heart beating too loudly in her ears and she barely heard herself. Kimi clenched his jaw, seeming to debate with himself as he thought about what to say next and she would’ve given anything to know what was going on in his head.

“Getting into things here is complicated,” he began, struggling a bit to communicate properly what he meant as if he was trying to tiptoe around something bigger. “And with Ollie I just thought it would be messy.”

“So you’ve been ignoring me because of Ollie?”

“I haven’t been ignoring you.” The look she gave him screamed otherwise and he pinched the bridge of his nose as he pulled into the parking lot of the hotel. “No, non è quello che intendevo. Perché è così difficile?” He mumbled to himself before finally turning to look at her. He took a deep breath and she steeled herself for the potential blow to heart he might be about to deliver.

“I like you, tesoro. A lot, but with Ollie being your best mate and the way schedules work I didn’t want to fuck anything up.”

It was as if the world had been yanked from under her feet before the ground came rushing back again, her heart stumbling over itself at the confession. The pure shock of adrenaline and joy mixed with something akin to annoyance bubbled in her throat and she couldn’t wrap her mind around it. “Why would Ollie have anything to do with whether or not you could be with me? I like you too, Kimi. But I’ve been sitting here for months thinking you couldn’t stand me. Even if it was just as friends, that hurt.”

The look on his face made her want to take back all of her words but she knew she meant them. He looked in anguish, hating himself for putting up the walls he had been so keen on keeping in place. Taking it upon himself to protect everyone from any potential emotional damage. She understood the complexities of getting into a relationship with a friend, and how if they go wrong it could blow up in everyone's face. But to not even try? And to just drop off the face of the earth? It wasn’t fair.

“I’m sorry, tesoro.” Before she could register her next thought, Kim’s hand reached up and cradled the side of her face, brushing a thumb over her cheekbone as he looked her over like he was trying to memorise every detail. “I love being around you but it felt like torture knowing I couldn’t do anything.”

Leaning into his touch, she shook her head. “Who said you couldn’t?”

“Cara Mia,” his voice was low, as if in warning and he looked at her pointedly.

“Kimi you can’t focus on all the possible negatives, would it really kill you if we kissed?” At her words, his eyes flicked down to her mouth as his hand slid lower to cup the side of her neck, just slightly bringing her closer. She reached her own hand up to gently take hold of his wrist, eyes meeting his and they seemed to glow in the night. “Ti voglio, Kimi.”

His mouth met hers with such urgency one would think he was a man starved for her touch. The feeling of his soft but slightly chapped lips was enough to drive her to insanity and she could cry at the relief she felt. Finally. Finally, they were giving in. He didn’t need to be scared. All they had to do was take it day by day and she was willing to fight for this with him through the fires of hell if it came to that.

The kiss was messy, fueled by months of longing and miscommunication. Missed opportunities and second guesses. Two lonely, young people who wanted to find a sense of security in one another and they were finally getting a taste of what heaven was like. Teeth colliding and the feeling of his mouth against hers, his tongue exploring the inside of her mouth and her hands dug in his hair. Desperate and devastating and neither would ever get enough. They never wanted to. Each touch was electric and they kept chasing that high, shedding any restraints previously held.

It would be hell to deal with sometimes, but they’d make it work.

“Vita mia,” he said it against her mouth, against her neck, he’d pepper it between each breath and kiss as if she was the air that sustained life. “Mi dispiace, I never meant to hurt you.”

“I know, I know.” She kissed him again, expressing everything she wasn’t capable of saying effectively. Wishing she could talk to him freely in his native tongue. Ever since the first night she met him she started to practise. He was everything and more to her.

“Vita mio,” the words barely had time to swim in the air before he was all over her.

tag list; @theonottsbxtch @fortunapre @hearts4acemyluv

pls let me know if you’d like to be tagged in further work!

[emsgwenstan]

Personal or professional?

Chap 1 | chap 2

Larissa Weems x fem(carpenter/joiner) reader

Words: 2.5k

Summary: Violet Hastings is a feminine and strong willed woman, who also has a lot of secrets, from her unconventional job to her personal issues, Larissa may be the one who opens violets heart but what is the price?

Warnings: eventual swearing, self criticism, hurt/angst, body issues| this chapter, none?

There it’s a lot in store for this just bare with me it’s only the intro. <3

———

“Violet get in here!” My boss called out into the work shop. “Coming!” I yell back, setting down the sand paper on the bench. Quickly making my way to his office I manage to scrape my leg yet again on a protruding piece of timber, with no time I decide against cleaning off the blood that’s now dipping down the length of my leg, when he wants me he wants me now.

Opening the door my breath was caught in my lungs upon laying eyes on the most beautiful woman i had ever seen. “Violet this is miss Weems, she’s looking to have a few cupboards made.” He said half assed with a sigh as if he’s so hard done by. The woman gleamed up at me, uncrossing her legs and extending to her full height. She was tall, very tall but not to much taller than me, already so captivating.

“Larissa.” She said with a deep voice holding out a delicate hand for me to shake. ‘My Larissa you are the most beautiful person I’ve ever gazed at’. I thought as i took her hand and gently yet professionally greeted her properly. “Violet.” I breathed hardly remembering if that was right. The touch lingered a little long, but I’m aching to be eligible enough to feel her hand once again.

“So… what exactly are you looking for.” I asked after clearing my throat. “She wants to get some tall cupboards for classroom storage at that school outta town.” He interjected. I shot him a glare at his rude behaviour. “As I recall I believe I asked miss Weems.” I snapped with a smile, returning my gaze back to her. “Well that is correct, but I was wondering if you had any ideas for the design, I want it to match the interior of the rooms if possible.” She said timidly, her English accent clear and alluring. “Of course I’ll take you to the show room.” I said turning to hold the door open for her.

On the short walk, the air was filled with a comfortable silence, which was nice because I’m not one for small talk. “Here we are, go nuts.” I chuckled. Larissa paced about the room and went from each item on display running her finger tips along the edges. I admired her for doing so, sometimes feeling something is far more important than looking, although that to is quite necessary, but I also admired her, her posture and height, her beauty and kindness, Larissa seems to be the epitome of grace, to which I envy.

“Oh my goodness these are incredible.” she said turning to look at me over her shoulder. I blushed and tilted my head down slightly flustered. “Who ever made all of this is very good, just look at the detail.” smiling and saying nothing, Larissa faced me probably observing my silence. “Did- did you do all of this?” She asked. “Guilty.” I responded returning her gaze. “Well, you very talented, your skill is remarkable.” She said, making me smile in thanks.

“So anything in particular catch your eye?” I wondered. “All of it honestly, but…personally this is my favourite.” Larissa walked a few steps to a vanity i made a few years back, not one that goes in a bathroom but the free standing one’s that go in a bedroom or foyer. I could see how her face contorted into awe at its presents, her eyes scanning over the fine details scribed into marble tops edge and the vintage gold handles, the mirror frame also a painted embellished gold. Larissa looked at me and began to speak again. “You know, this is off topic but… it was quite refreshing to see you walk in before, I thought I would be dealing with another incipient man.” She said not bothering to care if it caused offence. It was absolutely taken as a compliment.

“Well, if I’m being honest, it was lovely to see you to, we get all sorts of different clients who may I say are a handful to deal with, especially since they get palmed off to me considering I’m the only worker.” I replied in hopes of showing my gratitude for her compliance. “Your the only other person who works here… apart form your boss?” She asked almost in a concerned manner. “Yes, no body else finds him tolerant enough to stick around, so really the only reason I’m here is because I have some freedom over what I do, a little blackmail of me leaving and him shutting down for good always seems to do the trick.”

Larissa grinned at my words understanding that you need to play a little dirty if you want to survive in the business industry, something Larissa knows very well. “I tell you what… It’s yours, I have no use for it, I just have to tweak a few things before I deliver it for you.” I said hoping she would like the offer. “Oh no… I couldn’t.” She muttered but her face said otherwise. “Cant or won’t?” I asked almost as if i were daring her just to say yes.

Larissa eventually accepted the offer with much reluctance, her blush didn’t go unnoticed when i grasped her bicep smiling at her when she obliged. “Well, when would you like me to come and take some measurements?” hoping it’s soon so i don’t die of anticipation. “Does tomorrow evening work for you? It’s probably best that you come when students aren’t in the way.” She spoke. “Tomorrow it’s just fine how is four o’clock?” I asked. “Perfect.” She said.

Larissa looked down at her feet for a moment to avoid her crimson cheeks being displayed, but quickly her eyes found my shin. “Oh what have you done? Your bleeding.” She uttered, a look of worry washed over her features. Looking down remembering that i had in fact cut myself. “It’s nothing look at all the other scars, I’m sure you can tell it’s not the first time.” I laughed, shrugging it off as no big deal. Larissa opens her purse and pulled out a plaster holding it out for me to take. “Here.” She said. I sighed and took it thanking her and saying it’s not necessary. “It’s absolutely necessary, you need to look after yourself darling, I have to make sure the woman I need is in good physical health now dont I?” She protested. ‘Darling!? her charm is going to kill me!’.

Walking back to the office I said goodbye and good luck dealing with my boss to finalise some paperwork, Larissa let out a breathy chuckle at the statement and bid me farewell also. I paced back to my bench and resumed the task with only one thing on my mind, a beautiful woman called Larissa Weems.

———

The next morning was a drag, it honestly couldn’t go any slower, excitement pulsed though my body as well as butterflies in my stomach, just thinking about meeting Larissa again I’m torn between nervousness and the trill of seeing her, it’s been a long time since I’ve felt so giddy just because of a simple conversation or over anything for that matter.

After securing a few shipments of board to make a wardrobe for another client and doing some required maintenance on machinery it was finally time to drive to nevermore, that in its self was exciting. Before I started the twenty minute drive, i went to the weathervane to get a hot chocolate and a pastry on the way and hesitantly bought another set to offer Larissa. I have never done anything like this before. ‘God is she going to think I’m weird for buying her this? Does she even like this stuff? Let’s hope she’s not lactose intolerant or a gluten free person. God Just. Calm. Down’.

The drive down the road leading to the school was in some way magical, the trees making a canopy was surreal, the sunlight creeping through the branches and casting flickering rays along the windscreen, the cool breeze that was gently blowing the leaves was a beautiful sight. Anything that wasn’t four walls and loud noises was remarkable, it feels like when i take a step outside of the work shop and back into the world I’m alive or regenerated again.

Arriving through the iron gates my face dropped at the sight of the imposing school, it was huge and the architecture was to die for, it had a gothic aesthetic yet a warm nature to it. ‘My kind of place’. Parking in the staff lot, i made my way out of the car taking the drinks and paper bag holding the food and walked to what seemed to be the front entrance.

It was very quiet the only sounds were light howling of wind through the stone halls and hushed conversations of students bathing in the sun sitting in what you assume is the quad, even if it shaped as a pentagon. Walking aimlessly through archways and openings I found myself In front of a staircase, my gut is telling me to at least try to see if I’m in the right direction of her office.

At the top of the stairs there were plenty of painted portraits of people who were obviously previous headmasters and important alumni, all seemingly men to, that was until my eye was caught by a flurry of light colour. Just as I thought it was Larissa, her bright hair pinned to perfection and blue eyes radiant, i give credit to whoever captured all of her beauty, especially that little scare above her lip that i somehow absolutely adore.

My staring was cut short when I heard a door open and heals clicking against the marble floors, whipping around I immediately remember she’s far more beautiful in person. “What a horrid experience that was.” She said nodding towards the portrait. “Looks pretty incredible to me.” I said giving her a grin. “Yes well, sitting in silence for six hours without a break wasn’t very ideal, not to mention having to go back the next day to do it again was dreadful.” She chuckled. She tilted her head to look at herself and grimaced at it. “To be quite honest I try so hard to avoid it every time I step of of my office.” She said softly and turned her gaze back to me. “You shouldn’t it’s beautiful.” I said. With a huff Larissa straightened her posture and regained her mask of professionalism. “Hello violet.” She said realising she hadn’t greeted me properly. “Hi.” I responded.

Larissa turned and placed her hand on my shoulder walking me to her office. As we stepped inside the amazement came back tenfold, her interior was impeccable every colour and material held a rich aesthetic, from layered curtains to thick rugs and simple yet eye catching memorabilia that was effortlessly critiqued into place. She has wonderful taste, the only downside was her desk, a small crappy little thing that I’m sure she has trouble fitting under.

Larissa rounder her desk and sat at her throne of a chair and wordlessly asked you to sit by motioning her hand. “Oh, by the way I wasn’t exactly sure if or what you wanted but I brought you a hot chocolate and and a croissant.” You said holding up the goods. “You didn’t.” She said a grin appearing on her face. “I didn’t know what you liked or if you could eat or drink it, but I just thought I shouldn’t be selfish and offer you something anyway.” You shyly stated. “No I want it, that’s my usual actually.” She said. “I hope Your not lying to not make me feel bad are you?” You asked. “Not at all.” She smiled. “Ok well I have one that’s just plain and one that has whipped cream and marshmallows in it so take your pick.” You said pointing to the designated cups. Larissa bites on her bottom lip as she inches toward the drink with the toppings. “Don’t tell anyone but I have the biggest sweet tooth.” She giggled, the sound alone was a melody you wished to hear forever.

“So tell me about the process of making and installing the cupboards? Is it difficult? How would you manage to trek them into the school? Especially by yourself, I’d help you but I’m afraid I’m rather weak.” Larissa asked after she let out a hum at the taste of the drink, getting lost in her own mind wondering about the questions. You chuckled at her slight concern. “Well we figure out what colour or patterned board your looking for, order it and manufacture it in the work shop and I deliver and install it, as for bringing it here I’ll figure that out.” I said taking a sip of my own drink.

Larissa nodded at my words and seemingly scanned my figure, her eyes ran over the expanse of my body from hair and eyes to my clothes, crossed legs and shoes. I broke the silence feeling a little self conscious under her piercing gaze. “I’m afraid my uniform isn’t nearly as impeccable as yours I’m sorry.” I laughed nervously snapping her back to reality. “No, I was actually admiring, I think florissant pink looks great on you and I adore the pink laces on your boots.” She said politely pointing at your feet. “Oh thanks I guess, I decided that if I were to work in this industry I wanted to look quite feminine, what ever that is right?” I chucked. “Yes I see.” She smiled taking another sip.

After a few conversations about little bits of information and other steps, Larissa guided me back down stairs to a classroom. The whole time I spoke with her I realised how easy she is to talk to, Larissa comes across as sweet and charming, charismatic and intelligent, I do feel like slowly she’s peeling layers of professionalism back and being a little more personable and vulnerable, but so am I, not once have i had someone so friendly and easygoing to work or deal with, Larissa seems to understand my opinions and does everything she can to be as simple as she can to make things easier for me. Although a part of me can’t help but wonder if she’s just only being friendly for the sake of it or if Larissa genuinely likes me as a person.

After discussing the materials and rough estimates for costs Larissa and I walked back towards my car. “I’m really looking forward to seeing the results once everything is finalised.” She said clasping her hands in front of herself. “So am I, I think everything is going to look and function great.” I spoke. For a moment she didn’t say anything and just looked at me, although my gaze was diverted to behind her, a car was backing out rather quickly and without thinking i grasped her wrists and pulled her flush against me to prevent her from possibly being hit.

Larissa was stunned at the sudden movement just as much as i was, the person who was driving stopped and wound down the window, a woman with red hair and glasses far to big for her face gave an apologetic smile “oh my god I’m soo sorry I didn’t see you guys there, forgive me principal Weems.” Larissa gave you a look before stepping back and composing herself. “That’s alright Marilyn, please be careful next time.” She said, you could tell she was slightly annoyed it was actually quite funny. With that the woman drove off leaving myself and Larissa in silence. “Sorry about that.” She said. “How is that your fault?” I asked. “It’s not but…” she began. “It’s fine, I just didn’t want you to be run over.” I stated. “I suppose a thank you is in order than.” “No problem miss Weems.” I said. “Please, call me Larissa, I get sick of hearing that name every waking moment of the day.” The woman asked me hopefully. “Ok than Larissa, I’ll be seeing you sometime soon, don’t overwork yourself, I need you in good shape to tell me your thoughts on things ok?” I half joked clearly mocking her for the previous day, but wished it entirely. “I will darling, take care of yourself as well.” Again with the darling. At that I slipped into the drivers seat of my work car and waved Larissa goodbye heading back down the driveway.

Larissa slowly walked back towards her office stopping every so often to absorb the sunshine’s warmth, before heading down the cold stone corridors. She stepped inside of her room and smiled at the empty cup on her desk, Larissa wrapped her perfectly manicured hands around the paper and went to throw it in the bin, however she stopped in her tracks at the delicate handwriting with a phone number and name marked with ‘vi ;)’. She grinned at herself and whipped out her phone.

‘Meet me at the weathervane in your lunch break tomorrow? ~Larissa.’

@sabraaabra

[misrepresentedmorallygrey]

PROPAGANDA

John

This fella is Fascinating. just trust me on this he deserves to be here

He tried so hard to do the right thing, he feels bad and says things would be better if he was never born. He thinks he should've just stayed acting like a monster and continued to act threatening.

(LONG PROPAGANDA INCOMING)

John. Milgram. Here's a short description of the fortunes and misfortunes of the guy. It gets worse before it gets better (probably).

While MILGRAM is a prison that judges a bunch of sympathetic killers, it doesn't consider him to be one – it didn't even exactly know he existed until too little too late, when it got its grabby hands on the brain of prisoner 009, who claimed to not know anything about any murder he'd have committed. Then, footage from his brain was extracted, as MILGRAM does, into a music video, and… that was MeMe. Ninth prisoner, Kayano Mikoto, was revealed to have DID, and what obviously who do you think actually Killed Someone?

Enter John. Well. Mikoto is half deeply unaware half subconsciously scared of his existence, so the MV painted him in a rather. Deeply disturbing way, bathing in bloody baths and all that (not a blood bath though! easy mistake). Adding to that him showing up in the first Voice Drama for five seconds to punch the "protagonist" and yell for a bit, and the result wasn't. Assuring. The fandom proceeded to treat him like a cardboard cutout and variously dunk on MILGRAM for having a cliché "evil" character w/ DID despite the overall well handling of complex characters.

Two years time skip: second season ending. We get to prisoner 009 again. The protagonist Finally gets to chat with John: and voila, he's admitting to the crime, he's apparently "killed a bunch of people because they annoyed him", which means, as he's saying, Mikoto has nothing to do with the crime at all! And he, as per the judging system, should be forgiven, right! Well, he's so full of shit. The music video immediately reveals how protective he feels of Mikoto (and well, he definitely doesn't rebuke That one), that the events of murder were somehow tied in to Mikoto's job at a black company, his continuous overworking and him being mentally on the brink of breaking; that any committed violence was For The Sake of Mikoto and that John feels deeply horrible for messing up his life in any way. By making himself into the image of a "monster" he's trying to make Mikoto look good in comparison and be forgiven and all. He also mentioned if Mikoto is voted innocent he's gonna try to go dormant since he's The Issue, right, and the audience/protagonist hates him, Right, and Mikoto Also Hates him, Right?

I'm underselling the sheer devotion of this guy tbh.

Yeah, the fandom results were kinda mixed on that one. Lots of people immediately started to love him dearly and kinda forgot any people were maimed or killed with baseball bats; lots also got sold on him "messing up Mikoto's life" and actually voted Mikoto innocent Specifically because of John's promise to eventually "disappear". There's more of the babygirlifying kind in the English side of the fandom that I've seen, to be fair. And that's around where we are!

Dazai Osamu

He did bad things in the Mafia. He's trying to get better. He abused people but he also saved other people. Fans portraying him as an unforgivable abuser are WRONG. He perpetuated an abused cycle on Akutagawa thinking he was right to do that, because of trauma, before he could leave. But he left. He's still treating Akutagawa wrong because he's trying to be a better person but doesn't realize that it will not erase what he did and that he can't just ignore the past. Fans portraying him as a pure angel who didn't know what he was doing because he was sad are WRONG TOO. He abused Akutagawa. He was traumatized but it doesn't give him the right to traumatize innocent people. He's trying to be a better person but he can't keep ignoring Akutagawa. He needs to apologize. And even that won't erase what he did. Dazai is a complex character in a complex situation. He left the abuse cycle and tries to be a good person but did unforgivable things while he was still in this cycle and refuses to aknowledge them. He's not a monster but he's not innocent either.

Dazai used to be a mafia executive until his best friend (a former assassin who remained in the mafia but refused to kill) died. As the friend was dying he told him "I know you don't care about whether you're a good or bad person, so if it doesn't matter to you, be on the side that saves people." Despite that, I've seen countless people insisting that Dazai is a good person/trying his best to be a good person when he really only changed sides by joining a detective agency, while still continuing to do the same things he did while in the mafia (including but not limited to: harassing his coworkers for fun, manipulating people, killing people instead of just trying to incapacitate them, and even torturing an innocent man in one of the side stories). That being said, he's not evil either. Even when he does cruel things, it's not for the sake of being cruel (even when he harasses his coworkers he still has limits), it's just a means to an end. I think most of the confusion comes from a scene where he's talking to a young girl, another former mafia member, who asks if he thinks people can change and he assures her they can, but what the anime left out was that he was thinking about his former assassin friend during that discussion, not himself. The entire series is themed around gray morality, to the point where it's even reflected in the main protagonist and antagonist's designs (mainly white with a bit of black, and mainly black with a bit of white), so I feel like insisting that he's a good person now completely misses the point of the story.

[class-1b-bull]

Class 1-b reacting to you, their best friend (and/or lover), being the UA traitor.

Awase -

Completely shattered, that nomu that almost killed him and Yaoyorozu in the forest was caused by you feeding the Lov information. He starts questioning every moment you two have ever had together. He honestly gets pissed at himself and you and everyone around him because he doesn't know how to handle it.

Sen -

He loved taking pictures of the two of you. You two had an entire photo album dedicated to all the little moments, every time you beat him in your favorite card game or that little drawing eri did of you two being held up by you. All of those memories captured with the same camera you got him for his birthday are now being turned to ash in a fireplace. He cant help but be still while something once so important suddenly means nothing to him.

Kamakiri -

He was the loudest when he realized. He couldn't stop him self from screaming at you for what youve done. He hates you. Youve almost killed him and his classmates ten times over but that wont stop him from wanting you to stay. Deep down he wanted it all to be a cruel prank you were pulling. But it never was.

Kuroiro -

He tried to keep it together. He really did. But at the end of the day he was barely able to make it to his dorm room in time before he broke down completely. His nonchalant front, completely shattered. He sobbed to the point he was choking on his tears. You were one of the only people who he really cared for, so why did you betray him like this?

Kendo -

She tries to save you. She tries to understand why you did this. Were they forcing you? Are they keeping someone close to you hostage? Are you being manipulated or controlled? The more she tries to understand, the more questions she askes the harder it becomes to understand her as she starts to breakdown at your feet.

Kodai -

She didnt say anything but she truly wanted too. She wanted to yell, scream and cry. She wanted to hit you for what you put the class through but she wanted to hug you as you were dragged away in cuffs. She was so conflicted about what she wanted to do. Her brain and heart were arguing over you but in the end she just ended up doing nothing, which ended up hurting a lot more than it should have.

Komori -

She seems more confused and in denial than anything else at first. She starts to distance herself from people and holes herself up in her room while she tries to understand what happened. Was everything you two did together meaningless? She could never forgive you for what you did, she hated you but at the same time she wanted you to walk through her dorm room door ranting about your new favorite thing like you always did.

Shiozaki -

Shes not mad or even that sad about your betrayal. Just disappointed. She would try to understand and she truly wants to forgive you, but she cant bring herself to do that. She would distance herself from everyone and it would take a while before shes ready to move forward again.

Shishida -

He tried to keep it together but it was really hard for him to do that since he was feeling hundreds of emotions in seconds. His breathing became uneven as he tried to assess the situation from a logical perspective and his voice breaks as he simply asks you "why?"

Shoda -

He really values trust so when you betrayed all of UA he was never the same. He tried to recover but he keeps everyone at arms length. When you first left, he was on the more 'ok' side of things. But after a few weeks and what happened had time to sink in is when it hits the hardest.

Pony -

She cant stop herself from screaming at you while tears run down her face. She switched to english because its easier for her so no one knew exactly what she was saying to you. Even if you could speak english you wouldent understand what she was saying between the sniffles and gasps of air.

Tsubaraba -

Hes in denial for so long when it originally happened. When you were officially revealed as the traitor he thought it was a joke. He started to calmly talk to you with simple phrases like "jokes like that arnt that funny yk." But over the next minute it would turn in to him begging for it to be a joke while completely breaking down in front of you.

Tetsutetsu -

He does everything he can to get answers out of you. Some other classmates of his have to hold him back from running over to you and punching you square in the stomach. He ends up staying in the UA gym for a few hours after curfew, beating a punching bag in anger and confusion until eventually he wears himself out and collapsed from exhaustion.

Tokage -

She wants to know why you did it. If there was a reason she could find it in herself to forgive you but if not, it would become better for her to act like you never exist. For a long time after that she would leave when your name was mentioned or anything that reminded her of you would suddenly be destroyed or hated by her as much as she hates you. Deep down however, she still wants to be you friend

Manga -

He blames himself more than he blames you. Hes supposed to be a hero so why couldn't he save the one person he cared about the most. Youre gone forever now and he blames ever but of it on himself. He cries a lot for the next couple weeks and sometimes he can feel himself wanting to send you a funny meme he found only to remember and go through all the heartbreak all over again.

Honenuki -

Another that blames it all on himself but at the same time he is really depressed about it. He heals for the most part but part of him still gets a little wave of sadness whenever he walks past your favorite cafe or when someone does that very specific hand movement that you used to do all the time. Every part of the situation breaks his being completely, and he even becomes slightly more hostile towards the people he spars with.

Bondo -

He stays silent for the most part. His silence being a mixture of disbelief and hurt. He even tries to help the rest of the class through it. He becomes the class therapist while he ends up insisting hes fine and dealing with it alone in his dorm room. He cant bring himself to destroy the memories of you so he simply puts them in a box and hides them under his bed.

Monoma -

Incredibly angry about it at first but the more time that passes the more it hurts him. The more he starts to blame himself. If he had an inferiority complex before it definitely worsened now that you betrayed him. You helped him through so much yet he cant help but feel it was all nothing to you.

Reiko -

she handles it better when in front of the class, or at least she tries too. She broke down once you were revealed, she broke down when you left and she breaks down every time shes behind closed doors. She cant handle seeing anyone right now.

Rin -

He keeps calm at first and tries to rationalize. "Were you forced to against your will? Were you being controlled? Brainwashed?" With every 'no' to his questions he became more and more desperate to prove you werent evil. He started to lose his cool and break down in front of you while still begging for any sign that your not evil. At the end of the day he finds himself grabbing onto a random stuffed animal you left in his dorm and using it to muffle his tear filled screams.

Bro imma be honest half of these characters I had no idea what to write. So half of them are probably bad but im not gonna proof read or change this because we die like men.

[mischivana]

Hi, I know that you are new but can you do prompt #2 when Jason Grace say this to the reader to confessed his love. SORRY ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE

I Think I Might Be Falling in Love With You

Jason Grace x Fem!Reader

Masterlist

Authors Note: hiiiii sorry this took so long!!! holidays have been hectic and I haven't had anytime at all to do anything. Semester finals are also next week so any other request will also be delayed until then so please be patient, I'll try to get things written asap!!

Jason Grace was a confusing person. Despite the fact that I'd known him for years in the legion, sometimes it felt like he was a total stranger. When he came back after his disappearance it was like I was looking at a new person even though he was the exact same before he left.

Currently, I was hunched over a table in the New Rome University library with him sat across from me. We were studying for midterms and he was helping me understand one of my worst subjects: Ancient Greek History.

Yes, we had won a war with them and yes some of our best friends were Greek but that didn't mean I knew their history as well as they did.

"Don't- don't laugh at me!" I said playfully as I watched him chuckle at me. I'd gotten an answer wrong and he laughed at me playfully. "It's not funny Jace! I'm gonna fail my midterm!" I said with another laugh.

"I'm not laughing- I'm not!" He said defensively, throwing up his hands playfully. "It's just-" He started again, tilting his head and looking at me "we've gone over Epictetus so many times now" he said, exaggerating his tiredness.

"can we stop....please?" I said with playfully pleading eyes. we've already been here for three hours and I was exhausted. We had a mini-starring contest before he let out a sigh. "Fine...it's getting pretty late anyway so-" he said, I looked out the windows and it was already dark.

"wanna stop to get food before heading back?" he said as he watched me put my stuff away. He threw his own bag over his right shoulder and got up. "Sure...there's that new Chinese place down the street from yours and Percy's apartment?" I suggested zipping up my own bag.

"Nah, I'm not in the mood for Chinese . Plus, it's Percy and Annabeth's weekly movie night so I can't go back for another 2 hours at least" He said as he checked the time on his phone. I was about to put my bag on my shoulder when he reached to grab it instead.

"Here, let me" he said grabbing my bag by its top handle in his left hand. "No- Jason you don't have to I can carry my own bag" I said as we started to walk slowly. "No, I don't mind. It's not like I can't handle it" he said as we continued to walk towards the front of the library.

He wasn't wrong about what he said. He was New Romes most trained soldier and was built like Michelangelo sculpted him out of marble. We started to walk on the side-walk towards me and Annabeth's apartment.

"what about that pizza shop next to your apartment building?" He said as we walked down the stairs. "We go there all the time Jason" I said playfully. "Yeah that's because they make really freaking good pizza" he replied without missing a beat.

"fine." I said dramatically with a laugh. We continued to walk to the pizza place on the corner next to the apartment building, talking miscellaneously until we reached the place. We ordered and sat down at a small two seater next to the widow and waited.

"I still don't understand, why was Nico upset when Will forced him into the infirmary?" he asked me confused. "Because Nico still doesn't understand that sleep is a basic human need" I said with a giggle. "right..." he said, confusion still in his voice. I just laughed again.

He looked at me with a certain look. One that I don't think he knew he was making. I couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was. Jason's emotions were hard to decode. He was a very hard person to read. He also had a hard time expressing his emotions. Like I said, he's a confusing person.

"I think I might falling in love with you"

I froze when he said that. it was so sudden. I wasn't expecting it. It threw me for a loop. I looked at him keeping my smile but with a slightly more confused look. "...what...?" I said gently.

He looked at me with a simple but puzzled look, almost of longing. "I...I'm not very...good at...this" he said quietly looking at me with the same expression. "I...I don't know if Im doing this right or if this is even what I'm feeling but...yeah... I think I might be falling in love with you" he said with an expression of longing.

"it's just that, whenever I'm with you...I feel complete" he started speaking again. "your smile always makes me happy and your laugh somehow makes me the happiest I've ever been" he continued. I smiled at him wider.

I looked in his eyes with the same expression. "I think...I think I might feel the same way" I said gently as I laid my hand over his on the table. He smiled at me and I smiled at him. We sat in a comfortable silence, just enjoying each others presence until the pizza came. We started to eat and continued to talk miscellaneously, smiling abut what juts happened.

By the time we got back to the apartment Percy had texted Jason letting him know that Annabeth had fallen asleep and would be staying over. We stopped in front of the apartment door and smiled at each other.

"well uhm...I'll meet you at the library to study tomorrow? Same time?" I said cheerfully, looking up at him. "uh..yeah!... yeah that sounds- that sounds good" He said with the same tone, his cheeky smile warming my heart as always.

We stood in silence for a moment longer before I carefully approached him. I stood on my tiptoes and gently kissed his cheek. I pulled away and smiled while grabbing my bag from him and unlocking my door "goodnight, Jason..." I paused as I opened the door.

I looked at him again, he had blush across his face and a small grin. "Y'know...we could have our own movie night? Cause Annie is sleeping over at your place with Percy..." I said quietly, looking at him with a small smile, a gentle blush across my face.

He looked at me with the same loving expression. "yeah...yeah I'd like that" he said gently. He walked up to me in the doorway and we looked at each other lovingly. we both knew what we were thinking but we didn't have to say it.

he gently leaned down and kissed me, I kissed back and held his hands at his sides. Yeah...I think we might have fallen in love with each other.

Hiiiiii, again Im so sorry this took SO long to get out. I hope you like it!

[spirits-art-blog]

Redraws of some of my favorite Conan/Shinichi expressions so far! I'll likely be making more posts like this cus this show is filled with really good expressions and poses that I really want to draw. Honestly this show needs more moments like the ones above, its such a good visual gag.

For those who don't know, I'm watching this show completely blind so please keep spoilers out of this post; as of posting this, I have just finished ep 289.

Gonna get into some of my current thoughts and critiques in the read more cus I don't really want to make a separate text post so feel free to avoid all of that if you don't want to see it and I hope you enjoyed the art :)

Disclaimer: These critiques should be taken lightly as they don't really impede my enjoyment as overall the show is great! I just like to share my thoughts and ramble.

286-288 is actually kind of a good summary for some of the things I dislike about the show, like sorry if people like that case but Shinichi and Yukiko being there unfortunately did not make it less meh for me.

I usually try to keep in mind that shows like this weren't intended for an american/english-speaking audience but man, New York is such a bad setting for this show. Even if you ignore the actual voice acting, its jarring how the americans just, stop speaking english. I really wanna know what the bts situation was to make them decide that, like sure 3 episodes is a lot, but its hard to believe these new yorkers, besides 2 cops and a taxi driver, are speaking Japanese.

Other thoughts go to the end with the murderer of the case and the disguised killer. Not sure how to word this exactly but it kind of bothers me how this is, I think, the first time we've gotten a murderer who's backstory isn't about some misfortune that happened to them that was caused by the victim, like nah, she was just evil, and then later Shinichi and Ran stop a serial killer from falling to their death, like what? Especially with these two scenes practically being back to back, I just don't get why they did that. Idk just left a bad taste in my mouth.

Anyways on a lighter note, loved seeing Ran's thoughts throughout the episode, especially at the end, like I love internal conflict for characters, and it works for Ran as well since falling for that 'you helped cause this' fear is pretty consistent with her.

And lastly I wanna share some thoughts I've had about the show cus I don't know where to put them. That being said, I really wish they had some episodes early on that explored more of the dynamics between characters and Shinichi's transition into Conan. Like the idea of a rich 16-17 year old being stuck as a 6-7 year old who now lives with his not girlfriend and has to go back to first grade is such a dramatic change, no way that situation wasn't hard to get used to. Unfortunately, I'm more than far enough into this show to know they aren't going to do anything like that. And besides very small moments that spawned headcanons for me, there isn't much going on relationship wise either. After episode 3, the dynamics between the characters was set and hasn't really changed too much, which is a little sad imo.

I'll stop rambling for now, apologies with how discoherent this is, translating my thoughts into words has never been my strong suit.

[wannab-urs]

Build Me Up, Buttercup | Professor!Joel Miller x Student!Reader

Summary: Reader confronts Dr. Miller about her grade in his class.

Warnings: Not much yet. Reader is of legal age, no less than 22 but not specified, she's about to graduate college. She’s an English major. This is grumpy x grumpy. Lots of snark, eyerolling, etc. Not-Quite-Enemies to Lovers. And no she doesn’t blow him to get a better grade! (I would, but reader is classy). 

Word Count: 1.1k

Why Do You Build Me Up

(Buttercup)

Dr. Miller’s Foundations of Architecture class was supposed to be a fun elective for you. You could learn a little more about architecture, something that has always been a mild interest for you. You like pretty buildings and you think it’s a cool subject. It’s your last semester of college and you deserve to take something fun to fill in that last elective requirement. 

You certainly were not supposed to fail the fucking class.

“He’s so rude, Cooper,”  you tell your friend. Coop looks up at you over their laptop, red curls springing in every direction and glasses sitting on the tip of their nose. They’re feigning interest while they hammer away at some graphic design assignment.

“One time he made a guy who said he liked 432 Park Ave leave the class. Like just kicked him out for the rest of the day! I mean that building is awful, but still!” Coop heaves a sigh and shuts their laptop. 

“Is this that hot professor you told me about or is it the one who always wears really weird outfits?” 

“No! The weird outfits guy is my Chaucer professor,” you choose to ignore the first half of that question. “I have words for him too, actually. He keeps-”

“Focus! Why are you failing Arc?” 

“His essays are insane! Like, this is not English class, my guy, why are you grading me so hard? I’m literally an English major! You’d think my writing would be more than acceptable for a freshman level class.” 

He had given you a D on your paper about gothic architecture. You’d chosen to write about the Santa Maria del Fiore in Italy and he took off THREE letter grades because they finished the construction in the neo-gothic style… which you had made a whole section of your paper about. It’s perfectly valid. It’s not like he really gave you much to go on. 

“Did you follow the prompt? Sometimes your brain takes you places the question didn’t exactly call for…” they give you a knowing look. 

“This isn’t a fanfic writing challenge, Coop, I can follow a damn prompt. He doesn’t give us anything to go on at all for these essays! Or for anything else, really.” 

He is the least verbose professor you have ever had. It’s honestly kind of refreshing for a man to not love the sound of his own voice, but you’re also paying him to teach you something. 

“The essay prompt was literally ‘Gothic Architecture’ and the guidelines were ‘12 pages, double spaced, due March 19th.’" You drop your voice into its lowest register, mimicking Dr. Miller's deep baritone. "And that’s what I wrote!” Someone shushes you from behind a bookshelf. You’re getting a little over excited, borderline yelling in the library about this infuriating man.

“Have you tried going to his office hours?” God why are they always so reasonable?

“Have you tried going to his office hours… No. I have not. He’s rude, remember?” 

“Just try it! What’s the worst that could happen?” 

“He could drop my paper down to an F.”

“And you could report him for unfair grading practices. Go. Shoo,” Coop starts pushing your books toward your bag. 

“Fiiiiiine,” you relent.

Twenty minutes later you find yourself standing in the doorway of his office. Dr. Miller is sitting behind a large wooden desk. It’s very neat, the only things on it a computer, a picture frame turned away from you, and a stack of books. Dr. Miller has one of the books open and is writing something in a notebook, brow furrowed and tongue poking out between his lips. 

“Dr. Miller?” you ask hesitantly. 

He doesn’t look up from his work, just lifts a hand vaguely in your direction for a second and keeps writing. You roll your eyes and look around the office. There are bookshelves lining the walls with architecture textbooks in neat rows. A few covers of Architectural Digest are framed on the wall. Is he in those?

Your eyes land back on him. He’s wearing a dark grey Fleetwood Mac shirt that looks old as hell. The collar is stretched, revealing a bit of his chest. Your eyes trace a line up the column of this throat… He has a nice neck. 

You had called him your hot professor at the beginning of the semester, regardless of how you felt about him now. There’s just something about that fluffy bed head he always has, like he couldn’t be bothered to run a comb through it. And the scruffy beard laced with grey he doesn’t seem keen on trimming. And the way his mustache frames his pouty lips. And his prominent nose that looks straight out of a painting. And okay that’s enough. 

“Dr. Miller, I need to talk to you.” 

“M’busy,” he mumbles out, still not looking up from the textbook. 

“Okay, well it’s your office hours, so technically you have to talk to me.” 

“Technically, little miss, I don’t have to do anything.”

“Excuse me? Let’s not speak to grown women like they’re children, sir.” Is he fucking for real right now?

He closes his notebook and looks at you for the first time since you walked in. Probably the first time all semester. He kind of pauses when he sees you, hopefully realizing he isn’t talking to a freshman. It wouldn’t make the little nickname okay, but it would make more sense at least. 

He looks you up and down and his jaw ticks, “Sit.” His eyes flick to the chair in front of his desk. You drop your bag on the floor and slide into the seat. “So. What can I help you with?”

You take a deep breath. “You gave me a D on my last paper.” 

He just stares at you. 

“And considering our prompt was all of 8 words, I think- I know I met the requirements and that I did a good job. It was thoroughly researched, structured well, copy and content edited, and turned in 2 days before deadline. I would like an explanation-” 

“Enough,” he cuts you off. “I don’t have to justify my gradin’ decisions to you.” 

You let out a frustrated puff of air. This man drives you insane. “Dr. Miller, I’m a senior. I took this class to fulfill an elective requirement and because I like architecture. I would like to understand what is so egregious about my writing that you would have me fail a class in my last semester of college.” 

He considers you for a moment, meeting your eyes. He lowers his brow, screws up his mouth from side to side, like he’s thinking hard about something. “I’ll reread it.” 

Not I’ll reconsider your grade, but at least it’s something. “Thank you.” You grab your bag, moving to leave, and he stops you. 

“Wait!” You pause, arching an eyebrow. “What was your name again?” He doesn’t even have the decency to look embarrassed. 

“Seriously? I’ve been in your class since January. Figure it out.” 

You storm out, slamming the door behind you.  

A/N: This will be my first series! I'm really excited to try some actual characterization and plot, which I've never really played around with before. Constructive criticism in my DMs is always appreciated <3

Tag List: @beskarandblasters, @cutesyscreenname, @atinylittlepain, @wednesdayday, @whoiscaroline, @goldenhxurs, @northernwindd, @djarinxore, @worhols, @amanitacowboy, @silkiers, @4ueijos, @livinxdeadxgrl, @serenaxpedro, @huffle-punk, @elvn011, @thepriceofpepper, @lexic-22, @sunshinebtrfly, @strang3lov3, @virgogaia

[aweidlich]

Oblivious (Cassie Howard)

pairing(s): Cassie Howard x fem!reader

summary: reader is a musician who happens to turn Cassie on while doing the most mundanes of things.

warning(s): adult content, smut, fingering, oral sex, semi-public sex (?)

a/n: sorry for any mistakes, English is not my first language. I hope you enjoy this, it is my first writing :)

You are oblivious to how much your actions affect your girlfriend. Cassie is not sure whether this obliviousness annoys her or just turns her on even more.

The way Y/N would have to be touching her every second of the day or how you’d flex your arms and legs when stretching before running in those small shorts in PE class.

What made Cassie go truly crazy was watching her talented girlfriend playing instruments. It could be the piano or guitar or flute, any of the above would have the same effect: an ache between her legs and heavy breathing.

And that is exactly what is happening right now. You are both spending lunch period in the music room at school. You are seated in front of the piano trying to rehearse one of your pieces for the audition you will have a couple of months from now. You had been struggling with this particular one for a while now, but you wouldn’t give up, this was necessary to get into the Music Program for Music Therapy. This is what you wanted to do for the rest of your life, help people through music.

Cassie loved watching her girlfriend be so passionate at something, she knew how much this meant to you -- growing up with an autistic sister, you got to see how music helped your sister interact with the world around her, and you wanted to help other families see the same thing. This was the only reason why Cassie was trying to hold herself back from kissing you senseless, but when she catches the perfect image of you biting your lips in frustration, it is too much.

You feel a hand on your shoulder and a smile appears on your face.

“Cassie, I’m sorry I haven’t paid attention to you, but I really need to get this.” You tell your girlfriend, oblivious to her true intentions.

Cassy huffs, “C'mon babe, you have been practicing too much. How about I help you relieve some of the stress you’ve been feeling?”

The seductive tone in her voice was so heavy that even you could catch it, turning your head to watch your girlfriend.

“Uh- I- maybe?” You stuttered, “I don’t know Cass, you remember the last time something happened in this room?”

Cassie hums and sits on your lap.

“Yes, but I also think my girlfriend deserves a reward for all of the hard work she’s been doing these last weeks.” Cassie bites your lobe and continues, “Don’t you agree baby?”

At this point Cassie could say anything to you and you would say yes.

Cassie laughs as you nod. She brings her head back so she could look into your eyes and smiles.

“I love you.”

Hearing this, you smile back and lean in, pecking Cassie’s lips, “I love you,” you say, “and I love you more than you love me.”

Cassies throws her head back laughing, the image being classified as ethereal in your brain.

When your eyes meet again, the room gains back its sensual atmosphere.

Before you both can notice what happened your chests are nude to each other and your mouth is around Cassie’s nipple, her hands holding your head as close to her as humanly possible.

“I need more.” She gets out between quiet moans.

Your lips continue their attack on her breasts as your hand hikes up her thighs until your touch the place Cassie needs you most.

You will never get used to your girlfriend’s moans. You had heard the best symphonies and orchestras, yet none of them could compare to the sounds Cassie made when you touched her.

Your thumb circles her clit, getting it all wet.

“You are so funcking wet that I will have to clean you good before you leave this room.”

Cassie bites your shoulder trying to keep her moans in, making you groan around her nipple which only makes her more stimulated.

You get up with her legs around your hip and make her sit on the piano bench as your mouth goes down to her stomach and then skipping to her thigh.

Cassie is a whimpering mess, missing your touch already.

You laugh, “My love can’t even wait a little bit?”

Cassie goes to tell you to fuck off but is caught off guard when your mouth sucks on her clit. She arches her back releasing a moan and trying to hold herself on the piano hitting the keys and making a sound that would usually annoy you, but at this exact moment was not enough to take your attention off of your girlfriend’s pleasure and taste.

“Ah- Don’t stop. I- I’m so so close.” Cassie says in between moans.

You use your finger to help you stimulate her. Her legs close around your head, making you moan and that sets her right off the edge, her orgasm hitting her hard. You help her ride it out, cleaning her up and helping her put her panties and skirt back while she is still recovering.

As Cassie’s breath goes back to normal you laugh and tease her, “I thought you were the one that was going to get a ‘release.’”

Cassie rolls her eyes and goes to kiss you and your heart beats faster, but the bell rings just in time.

There is a glint of mischievousness as she says, “I guess you will have to wait for tonight.”

She gets up and starts walking, only stopping at the door to look back and wink at you.

You are left dumbfounded and horny in the room by yourself. You only regain consciousness when the Music teacher comes in the room asking what you were still doing there. You apologize and run to your chemistry class, which you had with your girlfriend.

Needless to say you didn;t hear a word the teacher said that entire period, only thinking about what would happen after school.

[sweetbillwriting]

The Finer Things

The Last Chapter

Characters: Vincent De Garmont, The Marquis, From John Wick 4.

Setting: This story is set in my own universe, so not exactly the John Wick universe.

Warnings: 18+, so many I can't write them all out!

Notes: Thank you @b-afterhours for always helping me ❤️

His long body was stretched out on the bed, from head to toe. He was so tall that he almost touched the end of the bed. He was naked, naked like the day he was born; undressed of all worldly belongings that made him look like a wealthy man. Even his hair was messy from sleep, so not even that could tell you he was anything else than a regular John Doe.

If Ines killed him now, no one would understand that she lived with one of Paris’ richest men; he could just as easily work at the gas station. She weighed a hammer in her hand and looked at Vincent's high cheekbones; if she smashed his face in, no one would even see that he was pretty. He wouldn't even be able to use that to get the cops to care more for his corpse.

“Ines…” said Vincent with a sigh, and he moved his hands, irritated. They were locked to the bedpost with heavy handcuffs she had found among Mylan’s things. She looked at him, amused, with a gun in her right hand and a hammer in the other one. The hammer was that extra touch to it all, and she liked the thought of him getting killed the same way he had murdered his parents.

“I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry,” he said with an American accent, just a hint left of the Parisian aristocratic accent.

“‘I'm sorry?’ ‘I'm sorry’??” Said Ines, upset and hit the hammer hard against the bedpost by his feet. She made Vincent jump and then he laughed off nerves.

“You lied to me! You lied to me so fucking hard!”

Vincent swallowed hard but then cursed for himself. His arms flexed in an attempt to break the handcuffs. He had woken up that morning, handcuffed. He had slept naked because he had thought Ines would come home and would want to feel his skin against hers, but she hadn't just done the assignment he had asked her to do but clearly talked too much. As usual.

“I lied to protect you!” Vincent insisted and sat up against the headboard. Ines regretted at once that she hadn't tied his feet to the lower bedpost.

“Protect me?? You fucking just protect yourself! Fucking sociopath!” Screamed Ines while once again smashing the hammer against the bedpost.

Vincent didn't answer her because he had started to push with his feet against the bedpost, like he thought he could get it to move from the bed frame, but it didn't move an inch.

“Do you even listen to me??”

Ines suddenly pushed the pistol to his ear, and it made him stop his search for freedom.

“Of course, of course,” said he so calmly as he could and swallowed hard. It burned in his throat, like he had swallowed a match.

Ines stepped away but continued to point the weapon toward him.

“Lay down again, now.” She said, still with anger in her voice. Vincent sighed but did what she wanted and planting his feet against the mattress to hide his manhood. Ines gave him a pointed look and rolled her eyes.

×××

“Hello, I'm the new maid to Remy De Gramont.”

Ines tried to sound as professional and collected as she could, and she put her hand out to the man in front of her. The house and her prejudice about aristocrats had made her think the house and its staff would look like Downton Abbey, but the man in front of her had a simple dark blue suit and white shirt. He was in his forties, with blonde, thinning hair and a bored expression.

“Encore un Américain qui tiendra deux mois…” said the man, rolling his eyes. “Montez les escaliers et le vieil homme est là. Espérons qu'il porte son pantalon.”

Ines looked at the man with big eyes, trying to understand him. Pants?

“I'm sorry, I didn't understand. I don't know French.”

The man sighed loudly but then stood silent; it was obvious he didn't know English that well either.

“Gramont. Up. Up,” he said, pointing to the stairs.

“Oh, up the stairs?” Ines asked and pointed.

“Oui, oui. Up!”

Ines smiled and mumbled a thank you, even if she was quite sure he thought ugly thoughts about her. She corrected her black suit jacket over the gray pencil dress she wore. It was a boring outfit, but she didn't need to have a good outfit right then. In her handbag lay a loaded gun, and it was the only thing she needed to feel sexy.

She was nervous, really nervous, but still, a calmness had settled over her, and instead of panicking, she could take in her surroundings more vividly than she otherwise could. It felt like the time had slowed down and the colors were brighter. It was obvious Vincent was right, she would be able to sneak out without problems, the house was completely empty of people. She smiled to herself, she looked forward to this.

She could hear a television from the top of the stairs. Someone talked with an upset French voice, and a man answered even more upset. Then a man laughed, but it wasn't from the television; it was from the same room, but it was a real person's voice. He laughed again with an aged, wobbly voice. Ines walked towards the sounds and came to a smaller room where a big TV stood facing the door opening. It showed a soap opera where two men were deep in an argument. In front of the TV stood a burgundy velvet couch in old style. She understood Remy must be sitting there, but she couldn't see him.

Slowly, she took out the pistol from the bag and screwed on the muffler. She needed to do it fast. Just do it so no one would see her. She couldn't take a deep breath because she was afraid Remy would hear her, so she was forced to act instead of thinking. With three determined steps, she stood in front of the TV, looking at the man sitting comfortably on the couch with his feet on the coffee table.

He was old, far much older than she thought. His skin looked two sizes too big for his weak frame, and his ears and nose looked borrowed from someone much bigger than him. He had a bit of a patchy white beard but no hair. Ines was shocked, but it didn't matter, and she pointed the pistol directly at his face.

×××

“I thought he was younger! Not close to death!” Ines screamed and waved the hammer alarmingly. Vincent watched the hammer spin in her grip and unconsciously pressed his legs harder together, protecting the part that had given him money through life.

“I think I was quite clear about him being old. Feel sorry for me; instead, I was forced to-”

“You weren't forced! You're just a greedy whore!”

“So are you!” Vincent exclaimed without thinking and got a hard slap on his cheek as an answer.

“You're the whore! Say it! Say you're a whore!” Said Ines and laid the hammer on his stomach, pointing to the parts he so desperately tried to protect. "Otherwise, I will pop your testicles like two water balloons.”

Vincent made a sound—a desperate sound—and then looked up at the roof. “Fine. Fine! I'm a whore. Okay?”

“Say that you're a lying, manipulating little bitch-whore!”

Vincent's eyes moved fast from left to right, and then he pushed them shut.

“What did you say?”

"Oh, come on! Don't you try that shit!” Said Ines and sighed.

“I really don't remember! Fuck, I can't remember all the words!” He said it desperately and, by reflex, tried to get the handcuffs off.

“Hey! Lay still!”

He laid down again but made a pathetic whimpering sound that made her smirk.

“God, you've walked around here in your fancy little outfits and looked down on everyone, but you can't even learn five words! Silly little man,” she said, taking the hammer that now laid next to him. “But I should be kind... Just answer me: When did you plan to kill me?”

Vincent looked up at the ceiling with big eyes and clenched his jaw. He laid quiet until Ines snapped her fingers in his face.

“Hello? Hello? Suddenly, it's obvious what a fucking airhead you are. Did you spill out that brain to have more space for Hermes?”

Suddenly, he roared deeply and flung with his body so aggressively that Ines jumped. Even when being handcuffed, his size and strength were intimidating, and his zodiac animal seemed to want to jump out of his chest. For a few seconds, Ines stood in shock and terror until she remembered he was locked to a wooden bar with steel handcuffs.

“I will kill you as soon as I'm free from these bullshit handcuffs! You fucking little... Fuck!!” He screamed the last word so high that she hoped no one was on the same floor. The terror she had felt before slowly turned to amusement while looking at Vincent, naked, trying to make the steel break while flinging around in bed like he was possessed. When she started to laugh, Vincent stopped his movement.

“Shut up!!” He screamed but lost his bravery when Ines pointed the gun in his face.

“Lay down, bitch.”

Vincent was red in the face from trying to get free, and his hair hung down in his eyes. He sighed deafeningly and laid down again on his back.

“Answer my question. When had you planned to kill me?”

Vincent looked up at the ceiling, thinking about refusing to answer, but felt her push the hammer into his ribs.

“When I don't have any use for you.”

He looked at her, and she didn't answer. Without dropping the gun or the hammer, she mounted his narrow hips and sat down comfortably. She rolled her hips over him once before looking at him seriously again.

×××

The old man, Marquis Remy de Gramont, looked at Ines with big eyes and took his feet off the coffee table. He wore silk pajamas in a terracotta shade, similar to the ones Vincent wore. The man looked at her, confused, and then looked around like he expected to see more people.

“Are you a cop?” He asked and leaned back on the couch, like the thought of her being a cop calmed him down. He probably wasn't afraid of cops because they wouldn't shoot him unarmed, but Ines wasn't a cop. She was an assassin.

“Fuck no!” She said but felt her hand shake with nerves. Remy looked around again, confused, but raised his hands slowly.

“Are you here for Laura? Or the bald guy?” He asked but continued to look just as calm.

“What? No! I'm here for Vincent!” Ines didn't know if it was okay for her to say that, but watching that little man with his dry, old hands and cracked lips, she wanted to claim Vincent. Vincent said he wasn't a victim, that he had wanted to be with those men when he was just a child, that he was the one using Remy, but now that she looked at that sorry ass of a man, she felt different about it. Why would a handsome man like Vincent be with a man in his eighties? He was pretty enough to meet a rich, younger man if it was a luxury he wanted. For her, it was obvious Vincent had traits he wanted to hide from the world. Behind that rich, powerful facade, he was just a little boy—a little boy who didn't know his own value. He liked lying on her chest and being close, but it was rarely in a sexual way, probably because sex wasn't connected with love for him. Sex was business; it was a way to get Italian shoes and Russian caviar.

Ines looked at the man in front of her. Even if she didn't want to, she pictured Vincent with him. Vincent let him touch him the same way she did. He had kissed Vincent's soft lips, dragged his hands over his broad chest, and licked the underside of his cock.

“Vincent? What has he done now?” Said Remy with a sigh, like a disappointed father. He sat up better on the couch so Ines could see the white curly hair on his chest peek out from the neckline of the shirt.

“He has fallen in love.”

She said it confidently and calmly. It was not Vincent's plan, but she felt now that she had her own. She didn't just want to kill Remy; she wanted to crush him.

Remy looked at her, surprised, but it changed to another emotion Ines couldn't put a finger on.

“Vincent loves me,” he said, just as determined as Ines.

“Vincent has never loved you. He loves your money. Vincent loves me.”

She waved with the gun while talking, but the only thing that seemed to stress him was her words, but then he smirked.

“He may love you, but he loves you in the same way as he loved Mael. He loves me in another way…”

Remy shifted on the couch again.

“What do you mean by that?”

“You're fun, for now. You give him a short feeling of euphoria-”

“You mean our love isn't real?” Remy shrugged his shoulders with a pointed look. "Still, it's you he wants to kill.”

Remy shook his head.

“Don't you even try. This is your idea. You're like so many others I've met who believe they have a chance with my little boy.”

Ines gave him a disgusted face. It was just too much for a man old to be his grandpa, called him “my little boy” while abusing him.

“Your “little boy” wants you dead!”

“Then he would do it himself, not hire a silly girl to do it! The only one he will kill is you.”

Ines furrowed her brows in annoyance but was interested to know how it would continue.

“He probably told you that silly story about Mael getting killed in the war. He was, but they found him cut open with his heart in his own hand. The Taliban got the blame, but both you and I know who it is who likes to arrange his murders to artwork.”

×××

“You killed Mael??”

Ines slapped Vincent’s cheek hard. He let his face lay to the left with the cheek up she had slapped. She still sat over him, and the gun rested on his chest in a silent threat.

“Why did you do that??”

Vincent didn't answer, so Ines pushed the gun under his jaw, and that made him look up at her.

“He was just dead weight.”

Vincent talked coldly about his former lover, like he had just been a material thing weighing him down.

“No, you got bored. When you thought he didn't have anything more to give you, you killed him.”

“No,” Vincent sighed in irritation. “I lost everything when he died. I had a home, money-

“A partner? You didn't think about mentioning that?”

“You interrupted me! I-”

Ines pointed the gun harder at his jaw, reminding him of who had the power.

“So tell me. The truth this time! Did you mess up your own back?”

“Of course not!” When Vincent felt the gun push painfully against his Adam’s apple, he sighed and looked down.

“He was just so whiny and cried over dead people he didn't even know so, yeah I killed him. Then karma was a bitch, and I got shot right after. Some bullshit irony, but in the long run, it was probably good. No one ever suspected me.”

Ines took away the gun from his jaw, and it made Vincent look up at her.

“That's not true.”

Vincent furrowed his brows.

"Yes, it is?”

“No, I don't mean you're lying. I mean that you don't know everything.”

Vincent gave her a confused face.

“There were some who said Mael wasn't whiny or scared… Or not for the war; he was afraid of you. But they were also afraid of you, so they took back their statement.”

Vincent lifted his head from the pillow and looked at her, confused.

“How do you know this?”

“Remy said it. He said he protected you, out of love.”

×××

“I love Vincent with all my heart, and I know our age difference can be… problematic, but he loves me too, and he doesn't get bored of me. Like with Mael or you. Vincent is a complex boy and has needs that not all other boys need. You're such a need, and right now he needs to play. Then... You will also have your heart ripped out of your chest.”

Ines still pointed the gun at Remy but sat now in front of him on the coffee table. It wasn't like she could deny Vincent was a complex man, and he had been with Remy for many years, swimming in luxury, while they'd only known each other for a few months. That Vincent was just playing with her wasn't impossible, especially now that she knew he had killed his former lover because he wasn't amused by him anymore.

“He says that he loves me,” she whispered with a heavy heart, but Remy could still hear her.

“He probably said that to Mael too. Maybe he said it to his parents too, but he pulled their guts out anyway. Vincent is a disturbed man, and the love you offer him will never satisfy him. I can give him everything.”

Money. Power. Blood. Tailored fashion.

×××

Ines felt a movement behind her as she sat over Vincent. She looked back and saw his cock twitch. He had been hard for a while, but she ignored it as long as she could, but now that she could even feel his twitches against her bum, she felt forced to acknowledge his erection. His precum was smeared over his hip and thigh, and she probably got some on her dress too. She smirked to herself and looked at the blushing hard on, she had neglected for so long, but this was clearly what he liked. Getting death threats and slaps. He really was a disturbed man.

When she turned around, she had succeeded in putting on the same angry mask again and pressing his head down on the pillow by dragging his hair.

“You're such a little fucking liar, a little bitch,” she hissed, and once again, she could feel him twitch. Vincent looked at her with big eyes.

“So you believe him? That I will kill you?” He asked. Ines looked at him, examining.

“You said yourself you would kill me when you didn't have any use for me.”

“So? If you're honest, you would say the same about me.”

Ines looked at him and couldn't stop smiling. All of it was so cute. They would really be together to death do they part. She giggled a little, and Vincent furrowed his brows. He didn't have any idea why she laughed. In her euphoria, it became difficult to not look at Vincent's naked body and the erection that had softened a bit. She didn't want to see that happening, so she took his member in her hand, hot and wet of precum. He grew at once in her hand and made a sound like she had shot him.

“Does this cock belong to me? She said firmly while dragging her hand up and down his length. She moved so she could sit next to him, with the loaded gun resting on his thigh.

“Yes,” Vincent whimpered, and he made a deeper sigh when she rolled her palm over the head of his cock. “But…” he said, strained. Ines looked up at him, and when he looked down at her, she started to undress. He seemed to forget what to say; he just looked at her and spread his legs, inviting her up on his cock.

“But?” She asked and straddled his hips, standing on her knees. His cock lay against her pussy and instead of listening to her, he tried to drag his cock through her arousal. When Ines didn't get an answer, she slapped his cheek again, which made his cock twitch again. It was a nice feeling, even for her, and she longed to have him inside of her.

“Did you kill him?” He asked and now looked at her with big eyes. Ines looked at him for a few seconds before smiling. She dragged her hands over his hands, the handcuffs, and down over the backside of his strong arms.

“Of course I did. Because…”

Vincent laughed in euphoria. “Because?”

“He didn't know I'm just as disturbed as you. You will not get bored of me, because if that happens, I will force you to use your own ribs as hangers for your fancy suits.”

Vincent looked at Ines' big smile with a similar face, and then they laughed together.

×××

Three months later…

Ines and Vincent walked around in the big manor. For Ines, it was almost scarily big, but Vincent looked at home, in more ways than one.

The manor was decorated; big Victorian paintings sat on the walls, and even bigger Persian rugs were lying on the floor. Everywhere there were gold details and porcelain vases.

Ines looked at her boyfriend, who was walking around comfortably with a small smile on his lips. He wore a completely black suit with a longer jacket but a waistcoat with a golden brocade pattern. He was as handsome as always and contrasted so nicely with the snow that lay as a soft blanket over Paris.

It was his home they were in. His grandparents old manor. His uncle had died mysteriously, and his wife had let him sell the manor to an anonymous buyer. Vincent de Gramont. He was a wealthy man now, having inherited all of Remy De Gramont’s assets. His Little boy, like it had been said in the will, He even let him have the name. That would probably never have happened if he knew what Vincent would do.

“It was nicer when I was younger…” said Vincent with a sigh.

"Or do you just remember it differently?” His girlfriend answered while looking at a painting of a pig eating apples. Vincent stopped next to her with his thumbs in the small pockets of the peacoat.

“Maybe you're right… I guess we can redecorate it?”

Ines nodded with a smile. She loved when he said “we” but didn't want to make a too big thing out of it. Vincent had believed she would do something out of it and became a bit disappointed. He was amused by her enthusiasm for small things and liked that he could feel a bit of it too.

Vincent snuck behind her and laid his arms around her waist.

“Our living rooms, our dining rooms, our eight bathrooms… Our bedroom… Our dungeon…” he whispered playfully in her ear and made her giggle, both of his words and also because it tickled.

“Maybe grandma can sit here then?” She said that and looked up at him. "Pigs are not my thing and grandma is probably more expensive, even if she's ugly.”

Vincent raised his brows high up on his forehead, then smiled, crooked.

“I thought I had told you…”

Ines looked at him confused, especially when he scratched his forehead.

“It's not a Pivoine. It's fake.”

Ines turned around with furrowed brows in shock.

“What? Is it fake? But…”

“It's a good fake. Really good. But I know my art and the test I did in the beginning… The colors are way too cheap.”

“But… But… Why did you take me to Paris then?” She looked at Vincent's handsome face and telling eyes, and he looked down at her with a smirk.

“I knew I could fool some with it, but also… You're quite entertaining.”

Ines laughed and laid her arms around his neck.

“And you tell me this now?”

Vincent pulled down the corner of his mouth with a playful stare, and Ines giggled.

“I love you, Vincent Beaumont.”

“I love you too, my silly little American girl.”

They kissed softly in front of the pig, two murderers in the finest French fashion. When they released each other's lips with a smack, Vincent let her go slowly so they could walk towards the entrance door.

"So, when will Faith be here?”

Ines laughed and played with Vincent's hand.

“In four hours. Will you fix the dungeon before that?” She smiled darkly at him, and Vincent smirked. Before she had opened the door, he took her firmly around the waist and pushed her behind against his growing member.

“I love when you talk dirty to me.”

×

[imarriedchrisredfield]

Training - Hanzo Shimada

Hanzo Shimada x Female!Reader

Summary : For some time now, you started to learn how to use a bow. Hanzo is here to help you.

Warnings : None

Words : 903

Note : English isn't my first language, so if you see any mistakes don't hesitate to tell me :)

There was a gust of wind, during which you did nothing. When it passed, you took a deep breath with your eyes closed, then exhaled.

"Ok, focus." You whispered for yourself.

Your eyes stared at the target for a few seconds, frowning. And suddenly, your right hand let go of the bowstring, making the arrow soar. Your tongue clicked against your palate when you saw that the arrow didn't land on the center.

"It'll never land on the center." You grumbled, taking another arrow.

"You got better." You turned around recognizing your boyfriend's voice. He was leaning against the trunk of a large tree behind you, his arms crossed against his chest.

"You think so?" You asked doubtfully. "I think I should stick with the Beretta." You contradict, turning back to the target.

"Let me observe your movements so I can help you." He said as he came toward you.

You nodded, cocking the bow. You took the same inspiration and made the same exhalation as earlier. No sooner had you cocked the bow than you felt Hanzo's hands on your shoulders.

"Your shoulders are too tight."

You moved your shoulders slightly until Hanzo removed his hands. He moved to stand on your right. He raised the bow a little, then put his hand on your right wrist. He pulled it back gently, until my hand reached my face and the bowstring was tighter. He then walked back behind you.

"Stabilize your breathing correctly, it's a bit erratic."

"I have to admit that it's hard to stabilize it when you're so close and you touch me that much." You said with a glance at him.

"Focus." He ordered with a bit of amusement all the same. You smiled, trying to indeed stabilize your breathing as you could. "Let go of the string."

You obey immediately. The arrow landed closer to the center, although it wasn't exactly there.

"Not so bad." He said while you were turning toward to him.

"Unfortunately, you won't always be able to guide me that much."

"You just have to tell yourself that it's quite similar to the gun. With a little practice, you won't need me anymore." He assured.

"If you say so." You sighed.

His lips gently rested on your forehead. Your free hand rested on his forearm, before you kissed him tenderly on the lips. You removed the quiver hanging from your back before handing it with the bow to Hanzo.

"Show me, I'll learn easier if I look at you doing it."

"You've already told me this many times." He reminded you, taking the bow and the quiver. "And everytime you absolutely don't pay any attention at what I was doing."

"This time, I really will look at your moves." You said while standing next to him.

"I won't make you promise that."

You couldn't hold back an amused smile. Meanwhile, he put the quiver before getting into position in front of the target. He took an arrow, fully concentrate in his actions. The swift movement of his tongue on his lower lip was the thing that made you forget about the initial purpose of this. Your eyes landed on his tattooed arm. Everytime you were looking at it, it felt like you were discovering again his tattoo and its hypnotizing patterns, which were fitting perfectly his muscles. You knew it by heart, feature by feature, and yet it still amazed you.

"Mh… it wasn't super great." He suddenly said. I snapped out of my thoughts to shake my head sharply in response.

"It was perfect, as always." You assured with a smile.

He looked at you for a moment without saying anything, before having a thin amused smile. You remained silent, not understanding what made him smile like that. And, to your surprise, he let out a very short chuckle, making you even more lost than you already were.

"What did I say?" You asked, completely lost.

"Well…" He raised his bow. You then saw that the arrow was still there, and that there were only the arrows that you had shot on the target. "You will always be the same."

"Excuse me, but it's really hard not be distracted."

He shook his head slightly, then in one swift motion and quick succession, he drew his bow and fired the arrow at the target. Of course, it landed right in its center without a problem.

"It's a compliment, in case you weren't aware of this." You explained with confidence, your head nodding and your arms crossed on your chest.

"Fortunately for you, I don't have any focus problem as soon as you do something." He said, getting rid of the bow and the quiver.

"I wouldn't mind it…" You murmured.

"I actually prefer not to shot any arrow on you." He said.

You nodded with a smile to confirm his words. Your hands on his shoulders, you placed a chaste kiss on his lips. His hands ended up on your cheeks as he kissed me back. He just put his lips on yours, you didn't move them. It was just a nice little peck that still gave you as many butterflies as the first time.

Needless to say, despite all this time and all the effort in the world to concentrate during a training, it would still be difficult for you as long as Hanzo was close enough to make your heart beats fast.

[prolix-yuy]

I SPINNED THE WHEEL AND GOT HONEY BEAR AND I DONT KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS BUT IM EXCITED (I'm not gonna google it to keep the surprise factor lamdovdf) the position name made me instantly think of Dieter so I'll go with him <33

this is just so much fun thank you for the sleepover bby!! ILY

Sil, I would be honored to Honey Bear you! And Dieter is exactly the man I want to get down with, especially in this position!

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x F!Reader

Position: Honey Bear

Word Count: 1084

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ MINORS DNI, oral sex (m receiving), ass play, sexy wrestling, Dieter and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day.

Notes: I wanted to do another funny-sweet one, and Dieter is just perfect for it. Plus if I was having a bad a day, I would also appreciate being pampered like this ;)

He’s been a little ball of frustration all day today, and enough is enough.

You try not to be too hard on him. His agent interrupted Saturday morning TV with news that he wasn’t getting the part he’d be practicing for. “They wanted someone younger, to appeal to the newer audiences.” He sulked through the next two episodes.

Then his sister called, and he retreated into the bedroom. His voice still carried through the closed door, switching back and forth angrily from Spanish to English. He stomped back to the couch and doomscrolled for two hours, his brows pulled together in a dark scowl. 

His final straw came when you heard him groaning, “You have GOT to be kidding me!” Venturing into the kitchen, cautious of the sourness of his day, you find him tapping his phone with increasing annoyance.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, moving to lean beside him. His whole frame is tight, frustration directed at the world around him wafting off in heady waves. 

“If I’m too fucking old and too fucking lazy to get anything I want, then fuck it, I’m going to order a pizza and not give a shit about the diet. But the fucking delivery app keeps crashing and I just would like one goddamn thing to work today!” He shoves his phone across the counter, your hand stopping it from skittering off the edge to add to his annoyance. 

“How about you go take a shower and we lay down for a little while?” you ask, lightly stroking Dieter’s back. He takes in a deep breath and whooshes it out, scrubbing at his face. 

“I’m sorry, it’s just been a shitty day,” he says, letting you tug him towards the master suite. 

“Everything gets better once you’re in bed,” you say, leading him to the shower. He groans quietly.

“Baby, I’m not really in the right headspace for that.” You cup his cheeks and rest his forehead against yours, tapping the tips of your noses together. 

“That’s not what I mean. We’ll cuddle up and put on a movie and when we get hungry I’ll make something. But right now, you’re gonna try and relax.” Switching on the shower, you usher him in and close the door behind him. He looks through the glass at you in the perfect imitation of a Sarah McLachlan dog shelter commercial, and you draw a little heart in the steam.

Giving him a few minutes to decompress, you turn down the fluffy bedspread and change out of your day clothes. Shuffling around in your drawers, you find the perfect outfit to don before Dieter steps out damp and loose. The towel wrapped around his waist lets you admire his soft broad body, dimples and divots you love mapping with your mouth. He’s slicked his hair back but a few errant curls poke out. 

“That was needed, thank you,” he says, pulling out some neon green boxer briefs and tugging them on. They make his butt look absolutely adorable, and his bulge sizeable. You really should get him more of those. As he approaches, a smile begins working its way across his face.

“What are you wearing?” he asks, kneeling on the edge of the bed as you pose dramatically in the pillows.

“Why Mr Bravo, don’t you recognize the white elephant gift of last Christmas Eve?” Draped over your body is a white T-shirt with a badly rendered line drawing of sexy lingerie where it would fall on your silhouette. You’d won it at a party, and the terrible quality matched with the hilarious design made you keep it in the back of your drawer. 

“I thought we ruined that,” he says, crawling up the bed to hover over you. The weight of the day is smoothing from his face, fingers curling around the hem of the shirt. “You’ve got much better underwear than this.” 

“Dieter, don’t you dare take off the Seduction Shirt!” you crow, squirming below him as he redoubles his efforts to get the hideous shirt off. You nip at his biceps, digging your fingers into his sides to tickle yourself free. He tries to keep up, chasing after your crawling form and yanking you back into his embrace. 

He gets it halfway up your stomach when you manage to roll you both, pinning him on his back with his knees folded over your shoulders. He’s full on laughing now, cheeks a ruddy red and coughing with exertion. You let him catch his breath until he looks down up at you, a warm smile across his face. Pushing his thighs up to his chest, he takes in a small gasp, pupils blow out and hands clenching. Gaze drifting down, you find him hard and twitching in his boxers, your tits pressing softly. Cautiously, you stroke your palm up his length. He throws his head back, stomach tensing.

“Do you want…”

“Please.”

You’re stripping his boxers off in record time, sliding down so you can take him into your mouth in one quick slide. He chokes, hips bucking as your practiced touch massages behind his balls. Keening and hissing, you set a fast pace to topple him into pleasure quickly, adding two fingers pressing firmly at his hole. He’s babbling as your lips slide up and down his shaft, sucking hard and swallowing around the thick intrusion. 

“Oh fuck, baby, I’m…” he begs, and pride swells when he cums down your throat not two minutes after you began. You love knowing exactly what makes Dieter explode, and how quickly you can achieve it. Easing him down, you climb up to snuggle into his open arms. 

“Don’t know why I said I wasn’t in the headspace, I’m always in the right mind for you,” Dieter says softly, lips dragging over your temple. You smirk into his chest.

“It’s the Seduction Shirt, works every time.”

Quicker than you expect he rolls you, pinning your hips and ripping the shirt over your head to discard in a corner of the room. 

“There, no advantage now,” he snarks, rubbing his scruffy face into your neck. Fighting against the ticklish touch, you koala bear around him and pull him down to entwine.

“So if anything happens now, it’s all thanks to my own sex appeal?” you ask with faux curiosity. Dieter pops his head out to bathe you in warmth you’ll never get enough of.

“Damn right.”

END

LJ’s Bangathon 2023

[raamitsu]

I would like to thank you from the bottom of my heart if you could wish positive energy…

It's hard to find words that describe exactly what I'm feeling right now. The state I live in, Rio Grande do Sul - Brazil, is suffering from floods, thousands of people losing everything, their families, homes, EVERYTHING, some people only have the clothes left with them. Many animals, houses, cars and people being swept away by the current, people are stranded, this is the biggest natural disaster that has ever happened in the state of Rio Grande do Sul.

The state capital: Porto Alegre, is practically under water, the Guaíba river has overflowed at a record level (about five meters) and there are cities where the water reaches the roofs of houses, in Canoas apparently there are reports of bodies floating, the Feliz city had 75% of its territory devastated by the rains, roads are blocked or collapsed.

The rains remained in my city throughout the week, except for yesterday on Sunday and according to the weather forecast today on Monday, however, the rest of the week has rain forecast, and if the rains return, everything starts again. I just hope that during Sunday the authorities were able to rescue as many people and animals as possible and that these people are now in a safe shelter.

In my city where my house is located, it is out of risk and I am so grateful for that, but places where friends, colleagues and relatives live are at great risk. There are colleagues and friends of my brothers with whom contact has been lost because they live in affected areas and no one knows what could have happened.

Brazil (my country) mobilized completely to help with the rescues and also to donate money and supplies such as food, clothes and blankets to the flood victims.

Therefore, I ask those who cannot help directly, to please send positive energies to us, for the recovery of these cities and these people and our planet. Please hope for the well-being of these people. May this tragedy end soon and may it not cause any more victims along the way. May we all be safe soon. My English is far from being decent so there are probably a lot of grammar errors. =)

There are news report in English for those who want to know more: https://www.nytimes.com/2024/05/02/world/americas/brazil-rain-floods.html

At least 75 killed, more than 100 others missing in Brazil floods | Climate Crisis News | Al Jazeera

!!! Share if you can, people, please.

I’m so sorry for the tragedy that you’ve been going through, my friend 🙏🏼 I may not be able to help as much as you needed, but I hope with me signal boosting your statement, you will regain strength and love from everyone who come across this post - and I do pray that you will receive more aids as soon as possible!

There are many things happening - from Palestine to Brazil - in fact, boosting and amplifying their voices are very crucial to them so please continue this act of support endlessly until they’re free and back to normal again.

To everyone who follows me, if you are able to donate anything, please let my friend here know. If you can spread this everywhere to your friends, it’ll be very appreciated 🫶🏼

[kiss-me-muchoo]

Tenderness || Eddie Munson x Fem!reader

Summary: You’re ghosting Eddie because he didn’t stop Chrissy’s flirting. He appears in your window in the night, only to end up in a discovery of sexual fantasies. You have a pain kink and he has a lactating kink…. Warnings: SMUT. Minors drop your guns, you can wait a little more. emotional reader, naïve Eddie. Both are switches. Fingering. Pain kink?. Squirting. Breeding and lactation kink. Eddie cums in his pants. Eddie is a dork but we love him. A/N: I’m having pms rn. After a very emotional day, I just want Eddie to magically appear and suck my tender and swollen tits bye. NO PROOFREAD IDK IF ITS NOT HOT FOR U 💗

MASTERLIST IN MY PINNED POST!!!!!

“Y/N, hurry!” you heard Nancy Wheeler screaming to get you. You could take your mom’s car to school, but you were too insecure and anxious about start driving. But hey! you were a dedicated student, with college plans, already having a job in a little boutique. It’s not like you were behind your age just because you didn’t know how to drive yet.

One last look in the mirror; floral shirt dress with colorful tights and baby flats. You say baby because of the mini heels they had, so baby flats.

“Sorry, I woke up with PMS and tender tits, I’m moody, I warn you” Nancy rolled her eyes at your words, and later she extended her hand to you as she started the usual route from your house to Hawkins High. “Cash?…”

“Just because you take me everywhere and I love you….fifteen bucks for gas from your favorite passenger princess” you state applying some brown lipstick on the mirror on your hand.

“Why don’t you make Eddie your chauffeur again?” at that you rolled your eyes. You weren’t exactly happy with him.

“I’m mad at him” Nancy turned to see you, curiously wanting to know more.

“What happened?” you sigh, grasping the hem of your dress.

“I’m ghosting him because I saw Chrissy Cunningham flirting with him. And he didn’t

Said anything to her. He knows how much she pisses me off” Nancy nodded. She heard you on several occasions accusing Chrissy of being too friendly with Eddie.

“Eddie never wants to accept when he’s wrong so I scolded him and now I’m ghosting him” Eddie’s van is parked in the lot once you enter the school property. He would try to reach you today. Yesterday you ignored him all day, and you sent Steve and Robin to fully attend your store, so he couldn’t see you.

“Good for you. He deserves it, but talk to him” you nodded at Nancy’s words. You couldn’t and wouldn’t ignore Eddie forever, just a little more. After opening the car’s door, your arm brushed against your breast, and you noticed how tender it was.

“Another fucking day…” After that, Nancy and you parted ways.

After English class, you were supposed to go to lunch with the Hellfire Club, not that you were going to do it. You were still mad at your silly boyfriend. Just as you started walking through the hall, you noticed Eddie talking with Jeff in his locker. And just as he saw you, he started jogging towards you.

“Hey! Sweets, come here!” You turned away, running to the second floor, jumping against a boy’s lunch a little. “Y/n, wait!”

You were in better shape than Eddie. So you were able to run faster and hide in an empty classroom. After closing and locking the door, you saw Eddie’s shadow passing. You heard him mumbling and cursing in a low voice.

You just didn’t want to hear him yet.

_

There’s a tap on your window in the night. You know it’s Eddie. You ignore it and turn up the volume of your player. You were mad at him.

“Jesus, y/n. I’m getting numb all over here!” he could bet you were giggling. However, he kept hearing The Zombies across your room. He tapped again, more violently.

“Is not that high, Munson” you say after opening the door.

“Yeah, not when my balls are getting strangled by the tree right here” you roll your eyes and finally let him in. “See?. Wasn’t that hard to let me in, princess”

“Why don’t you go to tap on Chrissy’s window?” Eddie thinks it’s cute when you are jealous. He can finally see you in a pink top and underwear. Looking all cute with your fluffy hair, soft belly, and hard nipples visible under the top.

“I’m sorry. I know she can’t tell I’m not interested. But you were right, I should have told her no in the first place” you narrow your eyes looking at him accusingly. He’s giving you lost puppy eyes, you can’t stay mad any longer.

“Fine. I forgive you… but you have to tell me what’s in the bag. Plus, a massage on my tender and swollen tits” Eddie smiles and gives you a naughty smirk. He places the brown bag on your desk and turns to seat on the edge of your bed.

“I might have stopped in our favorite place to get some burritos, fries, and two slices of bread pudding and red velvet cake” after ignoring him for two days you feel a little guilty now. “Robin told me you are about to start your period. So I also got some painkillers and a heating pad. The one you wanted from K-Mart”

“Oh, Eddie” suddenly you get your eyes teary. You feel guilty because it wasn’t the big deal and you created such a show for nothing. “I love you so much, baby”

“I love you too, princess. Now come here” he pats his lap and you go without hesitation. He handles you so your back is touching his chest, your legs spread and his hands wrapped around your hips. “Let me show you how sorry I am”

“Tell me where it hurts” you guide his hands towards your tits. Instantly feeling a wave of heat shatter your entire body.

“My nipples, they’re hard and swollen. I can feel my tits so heavy, Eddie” maybe you are teasing him with your naughty tone. Eddie can’t help but feel his cock getting hard.

“Get comfortable, doll…”

_

“Oh, Eddie!” you were lucky to have the trailer by yourself. Your parents are out every Friday night. Perfect to let your boyfriend sneak in and let him fuck you. In this case, finger you. “Fuck!. I need more”

“You look so fucking hot right now,” he said behind you. The left side of your bed was facing a big mirror that was a door for your closet. Being a witness of you naked with your legs spread out for your boyfriend behind. One of his skilled hands caressed one of your breasts, now covered in baby oil. While the other was mercilessly fucking you. “C’mon, baby. Make a mess on your bed and the floor for me”

“Eddie!” He could hear you moaning all day and night. Your sounds always being so pretty and erotic at the same time. While you were discovering a weird pain kink. The way Eddie pinched your nipples and make you squirm was a lot of pleasure. A mix of pain and pleasure. “Yes! There, ohh!”

“Say you love how wet I make you…” you spread your legs more, holding on to his tight. Giving him more moans until you are starting to get a little shaky. “Shit!. I love how wet you make me. Always making me gush”

“Aww, Can you hear it? Squirt, princess” the squelching sound of your pussy was driving you crazy, but Eddie was concentrating on your tits bouncing in the mirror. They looked bigger after almost an hour of pinching and groping. Maybe he was also discovering a kink. His perverted little brain would associate your swollen breasts with you being pregnant. Fantasizing with you, moaning while he made you ride him, with leaky swollen tits and a bump in the middle… He opened his eyes in time to look at you squirting so hard while high moans left your mouth. Tears falling and a big blush on your cheeks. Without a warning, cum flooded his boxers.

“Goddamit” you heard him say. Because your eyes were seeing stars. Maybe you were still squirting, but you felt like under a spell. “And that’s how we start to ruin your mattress too, baby. We have to get matching stains!” . . “You’re a dork, Eddie. But thank you, my baby cramps feel better” trying to catch your breath, all you can hear is Eddie and you panting. Both with a goofy smile while looking at each other.

“You made me cum in my pants, y/n” a soft giggle from you made him smile. Your legs felt like jelly, so he helped you. “I think I have a breeding kink. Well, not sure if a breeding kink or lactation kink”

“My swollen tits made you cum on your pants like a pre-teenager?” he rolled his eyes, taking his pants off. The wet feeling was uncomfortable. “Don’t say it like that, but yeah. Your gorgeous swollen tits made me cum in my pants”

“You know women can lactate without being pregnant?” Eddie’s eyes opened widely. His cock getting hard again.

“Is that possible?” You nodded. Looking at the big wet spot on his boxers, you could see a new erection. Another thing to love about Eddie Munson, he was so needy just like you. “Tell me what you need and I’ll get it for you”

“Shit, Eddie. You are having a kink discovery.” This time, he moaned when you started to palm him under his boxers. He throws his head against your headboard. “That’s why you suggested the baby oil in my tits, little freak”

“Stop making me feel so nasty. But… Would you let me try to make you lactate?” How can you say no to that dorky and beautiful eyes of his? it was barely impossible without hormones or therapy. But you would let him try…”Yeah. But you better in your best behavior. And that includes avoiding Chrissy Cunningham”

“I swear. On Monday I’ll leave it clear for her…” you nod, still palming him. “After you cum… Can we eat? I’m hungry”

“Sure, princess…” he leaned to kiss you on the forehead, and then he let his cock out.

_

On the high school hallways. Chrissy was retouching her gloss when he heard Eddie’s voice, making her smile with excitement. But when she turned around, you were by his side. And when you two passed in front of her, Eddie decided to say something to you.

“You still sore, doll? Guess I was too rough with you last night. Hopefully, you’ll be lactating in a couple of months” you instantly blush. Abruptly stopping Eddie at the entrance of the cafeteria.

“Eddie Munson! You can’t say that things out loud!” Eddie giggled, giving a big hug in the process. “But you wanted me to tell Chrissy to stay away from me”

“You nasty little pervert. I love you” he kisses you. Hoping he will let you know how much he loves you.

Part 2 where Eddie gets reader to lactate?

[flynndesdelca]

For Day 30 (Cara Mia Addio) of @chelltastic’s Portal Drawtober 2023 Challenge. As I’m not really an artist, I chose to write short pieces for the prompts.

now is there anything that I can do

if there was would we be singing

Finding books to read was difficult, as there were only so many people who even had the things, and so far most of their taste had been terrible.  Chell put down the book she had been attempting to read for the fifth time, sighing to herself.  This wasn't going to work at all.  This book just was not at all interesting, no matter how hard she tried.  She'd even tried reading it while sounding out all of the characters with silly voices in her head, but it just wasn't working.  Whose locker had she gotten it out of? That's right, his name was written inside the book in neat block letters.  P. Reynolds, you had failed her.  For shame.

The mental upbraiding was interrupted by a low, throbbing hmm.  Sometimes the noises GLaDOS would make echoed in a fascinating way, as though the sound was reverberating through the chassis itself.  Thinking noises, when she bothered to verbalize them, were examples of such.  The sound was surprisingly easy on the ears.  It reminded Chell of something else, something from before... she'd gotten inklings of the supercomputer's musical inclination at odd times and in odd places, but only gotten a proper example of it as she had been leaving.  Curiosity rose in her, and an idea formed.  It might not work, but at least it would be more engaging than the book had been.  

Tapping the table once or twice to try to get the AI's attention, Chell waved a hand in the air in a lazy attempt at signing.  Sing me a song.  She only hoped that the meaning would carry across.  

The groan of hydraulics.  Dead silence.  She didn't want to look up, she already could tell she was simply being stared at.  "You'll have to try that again," came the reply at last.  "I don't speak whatever that is."

Fine.  She held up both hands, moving much more slowly in her attempt to make the meaning clearer.  S-I-N-G me a S-O-N-G.  She'd been studying ASL letters in an attempt to actually learn proper signs, so it probably helped when she spelled things out rather than use whatever gesture she felt conveyed her meaning.

"That's what I was afraid you had said," GLaDOS muttered, narrowing her optic.  "Why would you assume that I know the first thing about singing?"

When I left, the turrets were singing.  But turrets don't sing.  You were controlling them.

"Perhaps they were so elated that your vendetta against them was finally coming to an end that they overcame their simple dialogue limiters in order to express that joy," the AI said primly, her optic slowly drifting to the side as though pondering this miraculous development deeply.  

Chell shook her head, pointing at GLaDOS directly.  They only speak English, and that song was definitely not in English.

"Someone's meddling with the turret templates introduced some... irregularities into the turret population."  GLaDOS rolled her optic dramatically.  "It took a long time to weed them out.  Having to interview several hundred turrets individually to find the ones that processed in languages that weren't normally supported was exactly as tedious as it sounds..." Chell crossed her arms firmly.  "Of course, you wouldn't care what language it spoke to you in.  You'd callously drop a weighted storage cube on its head before it even had a chance to say 'hello'."

Turrets don't say 'hello'.

"Yes they do.  You’ve just never actually talked to one.," GLaDOS said smugly.

She chose to ignore that particular jab.  So you found all of the turrets that didn't speak English and instead of incinerating them, you let them live.  

"They could still perform a majority of their functions," GLaDOS explained defensively.

And these turrets somehow got together and managed to create a whole opera.  Chell wasn't certain about how to convey what she wanted to, so she spelled 'opera' out.

"They do tend to be social.  They liked to be in groups," GLaDOS added.  "If you took the time to observe them in their natural habitat rather than callously cutting them down any time one gets in your way, you'd see them frolicking in the meadows together.  Like deer."

That statement was so ludicrous that Chell wasn't even sure where to begin with a reply.  Instead, she pressed on.  All of this of course happened during the time I was unconscious after dealing with Wheatley.

"You were unconscious for quite a while.  They work quickly when they're motivated..." there was definitely an odd posture to the chassis now.  Each statement saw GLaDOS draw back just slightly, like she was being cornered.  Chell wasn't sure if she was going to suddenly be in a great deal of danger, or if she was going to somehow win this argument.

So you pulled me in, interviewed all the turrets, they got together and wrote a whole opera from scratch and practiced it so that it would be perfect and just happened to be hanging out in the elevator shaft waiting for an audience around the time that I woke up and you kicked me out? Chell summarized, slowly and carefully.

"When you say it like that, it does come across as being rather farfetched," GLaDOS said rather pointedly.  For a moment, Chell considered whether she should start eyeing the exits.  "I'm not even sure why you're suddenly following this line of questioning. Are you considering a career change this late in your life? Is that book about a musical?"

No, it's boring as fuck, Chell signed in annoyance.  You were thinking out loud again and it reminded me of stuff.  I liked the song that they sang, though I guess I thought it was you singing it so never mind! She waved her hands back and forth as though dissolving everything she'd just said.  At least she'd been right in the notion that this would be engaging.

"You liked it, even though you didn't understand it?" GLaDOS questioned warily.

It sounded nice.  They were talking about science, I think.  And me.  I'm not sure how turrets would know my name, though, Chell said thoughtfully.  Maybe I should ask them if they will sing it again, for me.

"It wasn't your name," GLaDOS said sharply.  "It was ciel." Almost too late she realized her misstep, and quickly turned away.  "At least, that's what I heard!  It was impossible not to hear it, after all." That got Chell to laugh, which caused her to turn back quickly, optic narrowing.  "Perhaps I did arrange certain things.  It was because you were leaving, and I was glad to see you go.  I'd consider the whole thing null and void because you came back.  It's a failure of a song.  I hope you're happy."

Maybe I'd be happier if you sang me another song about how you're angry that I came back, Chell replied cheekily.  You could use a lot of dirty words and I would never know.

"Or I could just eject you back out via a carefully calculated aerial faith plate," GLaDOS considered.  "Perhaps not.  That would be cruel to the aerial faith plate.  Perhaps you're right, and I should channel my unending bitter rage at the lack of solitude in more constructive ways."  She swayed back and forth as though considering just how to apply herself.  "Well, that was constructive.  You'll forgive me if I don't assemble a whole chorus of turrets, but since you decided you aren't leaving you're not worth more than a solo."

I suppose I'll live.  Chell feigned disappointment.  She was curious just how a computer could sing.  It shouldn't be a question, because obviously GLaDOS could talk just as easily as anything else there, but the idea of an actual song, especially given that the last one through the synthesized voices of turrets had been really good, was exciting.  Even if it was just a song cussing her out in a language that she didn't know.  She sat back on the floor, winding her arms around her knees for support and listened.

[rom-e-o]

Forever and Ever. (Constance DoGoode lore)

@quill-pen proposed an amazing idea, and I ran with it into the first, concrete store of exactly how little Connie's life began.

Full story beneath cut. For all ages, though this story does describe fictional child abandonment.

"We have to go. Leave her."

"I can't."

He shuddered at the reluctance oozing from his wife’s weepy voice, and detested how it threatened to make sobs rise in his own throat.

The man, mid-thirties in age, watched in agony as his wife, a copper-haired woman of similar age, hugged their daughter tightly. He saw her staring up at him over the bony edge of the woman's shoulder, and it hurt too much to stare.

Wide eyes, bright as twin stars, stared up at him as if he was her whole world. And she had no clue that he was casting her away.

“S-She’ll be in better hands here,” the man added feebly. “They have money in this part of town! She’ll have a better life than we could ever give her. You know that. We owe her that.”

The woman fired a glare at the man at the mention of the word ‘owe’. As if an infant owed anyone anything.

"I still can't, Emeryk,” she hissed through tears. “It’s not fair!"

He paused, hand settling on his hips. His head hung suspended in a slight swing between his shoulders, his brow furrowed.

“We … can’t support three children,” he finally reminded her. “The boys are home. Crying. Waiting for us.”

“I…I could…”

“We have tried, Myrna. Let her go. Someone here can give her the life we can’t.”

Her sob was strident enough to send a nearby rat scampering from its post as the garbage pile. The man checked around them frantically to make sure the sound hadn't drawn the attention of any humans. It was the dead of night, but New Yorkers had a pesky tendency to be light sleepers, even after long hours of toiling.

"Myrna, please," Emeryk beseeched, his agitation causing his words to slur into a hiss, accentuated by his Polish accent.

She swallowed another cry. "S-She doesn’t deserve this. She doesn’t deserve to not have a mama.”

"These people will give her a new one,” he replied, gesturing up to a large engraving above the doorwaythat read, Albany Center for Children.

“It’s not the same!”

“It must be, kochanie. We have no options left.”

Myrna was still; a silent admission that her husband was horribly correct. With another steadying breath, she placed a tender kiss on the little girl’s head. “Oh, my angel…please. Whether you forget this day or hate us forever…please know that we love you.”

The word ‘love’ made the girl smile. She nodded, and Myrna’s heart nearly shattered.

“Myrna.”

“We loved you so much, słońce.. As hard as we could and knew how to.”

After a final squeeze, hugging the girl as tight as she could without pressing her into her heart, the woman gently nudged the girl out of her arms. “Be happy in your new life, my love.”

In a shaky voice, she then pointed to the stoop of the orphanage. The wide step was cradled by iron fencing and littered with leaves from a swaying English elm. "S-Sit."

The redhead girl stared at the space for a moment before obeying. She waddled to the step, and after a moment of struggle to pull herself on the second step, rolled over on her bum and sat up as primly as she could on the steps of the orphanage. All the while, she stared at her mom with wide, cornflower blue eyes. She was barely a toddler, but old enough to see the distress on her mother's face and feel it through her frantic movements.

The little soul could sense and see something was terribly wrong, but was powerless to ask what was amiss, let alone do anything. “M-Mama? Sit. I sit.”

"Good job, angel," Myrna said, scrubbing her red eyes with the frayed hem of her shawl. The threads were so worn and caked in grime that they felt like straw on the sensitive skin.

Upon feeling the chilled cement on the backs of her legs, the little girl let out a whine of discomfort. She rocked in place, her brow furrowing.

"Cold, mama."

"I know. I’m sorry."

"C-Cold..." the girl repeated, shivering as a strong wind tugged at her threadbare onesie, which was taut and ripped at the elbows and knees. She pulled her chubby legs close, rubbing her bare feet together like a cricket in an instinctual gesture to try and warm up.

As the breeze passed, the child reached her arms out, seeking comfort and warmth from her mother. He fingers splayed frantically as she rocked in place, as if trying to will them closer to her.

Myrna’s expression crumbled as she turned away. “No.”

Checking over his shoulder again, Emeryk squeezed his wife's shoulder before looking down upon his daughter. “We have to go, little one. Goodbye.”

She kicked her feet in excitement, ready to get out of the cold. "D-Da..."

"No," he repeated with a heavy sway of his shaved head.

"No?" The girl didn't understand, her expression only growing more confused with each moment. She flicked her head to her mother, only to see her cowering against the form of the other adult.

The little girl started to push herself off the step to go to her guardians, the only two people in the world she knew. When she’d barely teetered forward, the man pointed a finger at her.

“Stay.” His tone was hard as granite, and unlike before, he did not stutter.

The girl waddled forward another inch, not understanding the word. Moonlight caught the fury in the man’s eyes at the perfect moment, his gaze startling her like sparks from a spitting fire.

“Sit down, and don’t move!”

His voice rose to a dangerous growl, and the young girl bristled in fear. Reassuming her stop on the stoop, she lowered her head and blinked back tears.

So, without any other order or hope, the little girl sat back down on the stoop.

After one last check to make sure nobody was watching the couple and waiting to confront them, they joined hands and started to run. They bolted down the road together, their fingers twined and eyes ahead, even as tears clouded their vision to near uselessness. The two adults were spry, and in a blink of an eye, they had vanished like nymphs in a shadowy glade.

All that was left in their wake was the silence of the city.

After waiting a few moments, the child peeked down the road. A sense of alarm from not seeing her parents took over, and despite her orders, she clumsily slipped off the stoop and tried to run after them. However, her small legs stood no chance of carrying her within hope’s reach of her parents. Almost instantly, she tripped and crumpled on the pavement, skinning her knees. She whimpered, laying in the road for a moment before pushing herself upright.

In the cold and dark, she returned to the steps of the orphanage, waiting for parents that would never come back to get her.

She waited.

And waited.

Even when she heard voices up the street or saw a light flicker on in a nearby window, she didn’t call for help, for none of the voices or shadows belonged to her parents. The girl was too terrified to try, fearing that something would distract her at the exact precious moment that her parents would come back to get her.

She kept waiting, all through the cold night.

That following morning, when one of the center’s groundskeepers emerged from his basement-level apartment to start the day, he saw the red-headed girl curled up like a kitten on the doorstep.

Fearing the worst, he threw his jacket over her and furiously knocked on the main door.

When the live-in staff did answer and saw the girl balled in his arms, they were shocked. Nobody had heard a sound or a cry all night, and the realization that she’d survived an entire night alone on the streets of New York sent them reeling with shock.

“Do you think she’s lost?” one staff member asked. The others swung their heads, skulls heavy like solemn, weighted pendulums. Children that arrived on their doorstep were never there by accident, after all.

“They couldn’t even bother to ring the bell?” one social worker asked another as they mounted the stairs to the W.C. “They have to know people live here!”

“Probably terrified of getting tossed in the bin if they got caught.”

“Cowards.”

“Hush! We don’t pass judgement. We can only hope they made this … decision with a heavy heart.”

“Hope. I suppose so.”

The redhead was immediately brought inside and doted upon in every way possible. The girl was changed, bathed, and given clean clothes. They then gave her porridge, which she ate in silence while a doctor gave her a physical. Upon seeing her knees, he took care to clean the wounds and patch them up. The girl remained catatonic despite the kind and insistent prodding, even when bribed with stuffed animals or candy for any information. The entire time, she didn’t so much as mutter a word.

Meanwhile, staff spent their early morning hours sending correspondence to every member of their board to alert them of the emergency take-in. After all, the center wasn’t exactly swimming in funds. They couldn’t turn away a child, but in the same breath, they had to be transparent with their sponsors and fundraisers about the use of their funds. Lots of care would need to be paid for, and the center was already bursting with children in need of foster homes, or permanent homes.

However, one particular member of the board told them to tally the charges, then charge them to her name.

“I’ll bring my bank book,” the woman wired in return. Then, the line went dead.

Fifteen minutes later, Theresea DoGoode strutted into the children’s center.

Entering in a flurry of fur and floral perfume, the woman removed her pillbox hand and stole. After smoothing her belted dress, she entered the foyer of the building that she and her husband had contributed a small fortune to build and support.

As a result, she was greeted with enthusiastic salutations and many thankful praises and comments from the staff. While obviously thankful, she brushed them off with poise and grace. After all, today was not a day that she had made a trip from Manhattan to speak to the center’s crew.

“Here,” she said, handing the lead social worker a small piece of paper. “A blank check, already signed and authorized. Write the amount I need to pay on it, and feel free to cash it now.”

She then made a beeline to the in-house physician’s office, her heels clicking with the rhythm of a heartbeat.

When she rounded the corner, she saw her.

A small, redheaded two-year-old, sitting opposite a doctor. The doctor looked stressed and forlorn at his lack of progress with the mute child, but Theresea absorbed none of it. Instead, she walked forward and beamed a gentle smile.

She kneeled down softly, careful to make no sudden movements.

“Hello.”

The little girl said nothing. She kept her blue eyes averted, staring at the wall.

Theresea, ever patient, lowered her body further. Sitting cross-legged allowed the child to have a slight advantage in height over her, which was mostly attributed to the chair. It wasn’t made for a child so small.

“What’s your name, love?”

“She won’t talk, this one.” The little girl had looked up, but the strident baritone of the doctor had startled her back into silence. “If she had a name, she may not remember it.”

Holding back a groan, Theresea kept her tone airy and easy. “Well, every little girl deserves a name. Do you know yours, angel?”

‘Angel,’ The girl’s eyes welled up at the familiar word. A word she knew was for her, but spoken by the lips of a stranger. “M-Ma…”

Tears had barely begun to fall before Theresea leaned in and hugged the child. The little girl crumbled into Theresea’s embrace, crying audibly as her fists gently pounded the woman’s shoulders. It wasn’t a gesture of aggravation, but rather, the only way the girl could think of siphoning out the horrible dread that she didn’t have a name for yet.

Theresea lifted her off the chair and into her lap, cooing as the little girl clung to her like an infant cloth.

The doctor was stunned at the sight, and even more stunned when Theresea turned and regarded him with an unyielding stare.

“I’ll stay with her while you finish the check-up,” she said, “Once she has a clean bill of health, I’d like to submit a form.”

“A…payment form?”

“An adoption form.”

Arthur DoGoode was a truly, truly happy man.

Despite hardships in life that had made him frail and delicate than most other adults, he had surpassed them all and amassed quantifiable success that could be measured by both his bank balance, and his social standing. He'd had the privilege of being able to work hard and cultivate a career as a prestigious property owner and investor in New York. Through those ventures, he'd met an aspiring philanthropist traveling from Morocco to New York, looking to make a difference. They shared a passion to help others and change the city for the better. Their shared passion culminated into a blissful marriage.

To him, it felt almost lucrative to have such a wonderful life. What had he done to deserve such grace?

Then, one day, an unfortunate situation turned into yet another blessing.

An abandoned two-year-old left was overnight on the doorstep of a New York orphanage. Staff had sent for his wife, and she'd made the trip while Arthur stayed back to tend to the real estate business affairs and make the meetings he'd scheduled. The entire time, the minutes ticked by more slowly than sap from a tapper.

Two hours later, Theresea came back through the door of their Manhattan abode with a swaddled, red-headed babe in her arms.

That day, a tepid April 30 in New York, at just before 9 a.m., Arthur DoGoode became a father to a voiceless daughter.

An entire year had passed since that fateful day.

"Papa!"

At that moment, on a cue uncannily parallel with his wandering imagination, said daughter manifested in the doorway. A copper-haired girl with bouncy pigtails bounded into the Manhattan breakfast nook. Her dress was trimmed in pounds of lace, and the layers shook like the pelt of a dog shaking itself off after coming in from a deluge.

Seeing her father seated at the table, she used all her strength to jump up onto the wooden chair next to her father's seat.

She jumped, then faltered, and her polished Mary Janes lick-clacked against the tiled floor.

"I-I can do it," she said, tiny fingers holding onto the wooden arm with all her might. "I can do it!"

He nodded.

"K-Keep watching, I can do it!"

He nodded again, further encouraging her while simultaneously restraining himself from reaching over to help her, even when she struggled.

When the three-year-old did pull herself upright finally, she raised her arms in victory, and he clapped as if he'd just watched a running cross the first-place marker at a marathon.

‘Well done!’ he mouthed out, beaming ear to ear.

Arthur never spoke much. Or, more accurately, he couldn't. He was a frail man; a delicate soul since birth. It hurt his lungs and throat to speak, and the pain was only heightened by a lurking dysphonia that made breathing some days difficult as trying to manually fill a hot air balloon with just his lungs. So, he conveyed his emotions with expressions and hand gestures.

To Constance, her father's lack of speech wasn't an absence of any communication, for there was never a statement between them that went misunderstood.

The same could be said for Arthur and his wife, Theresea. The love of his life, and the one who had brought their daughter home. For that, and many other things, he’d be forever thankful.

"Well, well, look at this!"

Dressed in a navy jumper and white skirt, Theresea entered their kitchenette with a wide grin, hands balanced upon her hips.

Unbeknownst to both Arthur and Constance, Theresea had watched the toddler's monumental feat from behind the arched doorway leading into the spacious kitchen.

"I say,” she started with a cheeky lilt, “Did you pull yourself up all by yourself, my girl?"

The girl nodded proudly.

"Well, you are a clever young girl, aren't you?" the mother inquired with a teasing tilt of the head. She reached down and tousled her bangs playfully, then placed a painted kiss atop her crown. Theresea always wore dark plum or deep, mahogany-tinted lip paints. Yet, by magic Arthur couldn't fathom, Constance never had so much as a trace of a lipstick mark on her forehead after kisses.

“Well, well, what are you two schemers up to so early?” she asked while pulling out a chair to join them. “It’s Saturday, and the sun is barely up! Last I saw you before my bath, you were like a rock.”

Arthur pointed subtlety to the oven. which was on and baking … something. Theresea closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, taking in a sweet aroma that she noticed building in the kitchenette. The smell was one she knew. Vanilla.

“Ah, baking a cake?” she asked, and he nodded.

Arthur then pointed to Connie’s festive dress and done-up hair, his fingers starting at his forehead and spiraling down in loops to convey the shape of her pigtails.

“Yes, she roused me a little earlier than normal,” she said, “So, I brought her into my powder room for a little girl’s pampering session. Hair, clothes, nails, the works!”

She reached over and tickled the young girl through the lacy layers of her dress. The toddler screamed in mirth, her strawberry-seed teeth bared in a full grin. Not for the further time that day, Arthur’s heart sang with joy. “After all, today is a very special day!”

Constance paused her laughter to stare at her parents in intrigue. Her cornflower eyes bounced between them as they took turns humming and making dramatic ‘pondering’ gestures. Even a audience member in the back seats the Globe Theatre – if it still stood today – would have rolled their eyes at the over-dramatic display, but Constance was enthralled.

“What?” she asked, bouncing up and down on her chair. “What? What day? Spe-thial?”

Then, in unison, both parents gasped in mock-shock.

“Why, it’s your birthday!” the parents expressed in tandem.

Theresea cheered while Arthur went to check the delicious cake in the oven, hearing the timer ping just moments before.

“Birf-day?” the girl repeated as Theresea kissed her chubby cheeks.

“That’s right. It’s the very special day when you came into our lives and made us very happy.”

Connie’s mouth formed an ‘o’ shape, which quickly shifted into a sheepish grin. Her fingers steepled in front of her face and she rocked from foot to foot. In her large dress, she looked like a tipsy snowball. “I did? I made mama and papa happy? For real life?”

“You did.” She reached out and folded her tiny hands into her own. “You do, my love. Every day.”

Arthur lightly spread a layer of premade glaze over the surface of the round cake. Then, he sifted a blanket of powdered sugar and cinnamon on top of the perfect, circular surface. After sticking on a paper topper, which was cut into a kaleidoscope of swirls and flourishes, he scooped it up proudly.

With a skillful pirouette, he turned and placed it before the young girl. Upon seeing the vanilla cake, her face lit up. It was her favorite kind, even down to the dusting of cinnamon. How had her father known? She loved everything he baked, after all.

Arthur smiled as he gently placed a candle in the middle of the topper. Then, with a hand as steady as a surgeon, he struck a match and lit it.

“Now,” the woman said, nudging her forward, holding onto her side to prevent her from drifting too close to the frame. “Blow out the candle and make a wish.”

She thought hard. What was her wish? There wasn’t much she wanted, she supposed. He lived in a very pretty house, had a really nice bedroom with a real mattress, warm clothes (although they were sometimes itchy) and she had the best parents in the whole wide world. Her beautiful mama and handsome father; the two people she loved more than anyone.

That, she realized, was the part she loved most.

With a mighty inhale, she blew as hard as she could, dashing the flame out swiftly. As her parents clapped, she settled between them contently. She held the wish in her heart, content with the warm buzz it generated there.

Please … stay my mama and papa forever and ever.