#and now I've removed it you'll never remember enough to know what you should be missing

[obeymeluv]

Enchanting a Fae - Malleus x Reader

A random Malleus x Reader

Malleus isn't sure why he comes to your dorm so often. His booted feet take him there automatically, he supposes. If Lilia were to ask him, he's just making the rounds on his usual haunts and looking for pieces of forgotten grotesques and gargoyles in need of cleaning. Ramshackle was a prime destination for all things forgotten and dusty, after all.

Perhaps it can also be a home to things muddy and sopping.

A small smile twists the edges of Malleus' lips as he blinks rain from his emerald eyes. It's ironic that he, future King of Briar Valley and fifth most powerful mage in the world, was caught unaware by the weather.

How very human. It's a beautiful experience, to drown in the quiet hush of rain.

He steps lightly but with purpose, long shadow breezing up the walkway to your door. It swells as lightning tap-dances behind him. Thunder rumbles, much like the sound he tries to swallow down as you crack the door open hesitantly, face melting into one of welcome.

Oh, child of man...Malleus feels the warm swirl in his chest tighten as you take his hand and pull him inside. He ducks his head, finally remembering to pull his horns down enough so they don't scrape the frame like they have in the past.. "Fae are supposed to be invited in," he reminds you. "And I told you, you always have a standing invitation." you say with a gentle dismissiveness that both humbles and endears him. You continue to show him that you care not for his title or his princely demands. You treat him like all the others. He does his best to stand on the welcome mat you thrifted, afraid the water will rot the ancient floor and leave you with something else to fix. You scurry back with towels and some spare clothes that smell like human. Not you, but human. Malleus can't stop the angry rumble in his throat as he realizes that smell is probably from your human friends at Heartslabyul. Clothes for other men? Disgusting. You always forget he has another set of vocal chords and he excuses the noise as 'clearing his throat'. "It's all I have," you murmur, unsure now if you should take the offer back. He can tell you're still debating that uncouth noise, the slip of the tongue.

"I accept your generosity." Malleus knows it won't be a perfect fit, but it would do better than your clothes. Not that he didn't like the idea of adorning himself in your scent. Turning away from you a little, Malleus removes the purple striped belt at his waist and undoes the many gold buttons on his curious coat. You can't tell what the black shirt is underneath but it sticks to him and you find yourself trying to tear your eyes away and commit him to memory all at once.

Not in the creepy way! Just in the 'I've never seen Malleus in just gloves, a shirt, pants, and boots before' kind of way. He's none the wiser, realizing he has a real problem on his hands. The gloves he chose are water resistant but they've somehow gone flush against his slick skin and feel more like a seal than a savior. His draconian nails cannot save him, blunted and useless in the leather. Should he use his teeth? What if he hooked them on the edge of a horn and just shimmied it off? You can practically read his mind and grab his hand before he can raise it near his head. "Don't do that! You'll ruin them!" you give a huffy laugh at his simple, boyish logic and it takes every ounce of control from all his decades of walking upright to keep his tail from smashing a hole in your floor.

He watches you drape the loaner clothes around your neck like some sort of scarf as you motion for his hand.

Your hands are almost cartoonishly small in his as they trace the stitching and try to feel for any buttons or ridges. Small, but so considerate and so warm. Dragons run warm from the fire and magic in their blood but he cannot explain why your touch is absolutely radiating and searing him in the most comforting way through the leather. He almost hopes you never figure out how to take them off so you can just fiddle with his hands forever. Malleus relaxes into your touch, basking in the care and attention.

His hopes are dashed when the glove separates slightly from his lax wrist and you free his hand. You pull off the other one. If he had no shame, he'd make a cool request for you to hold them and warm them. "Boots off, then change." you give him a small rag for his hands and point to his feet. Delighted and somewhat surprised to be your willing subject, Malleus obeys and starts to take off his boots.

He braces himself against your wall with one hand, mindful not to put himself through it like he almost did the mine tunnel at Beanfest. One boot off, he wrestles blindly with the other. Malleus is much more interested in how you tend to the pitiful fire in your fireplace. Your back is to him and whatever you're wearing leaves you shapeless but cozy. The embers crackle in the hearth, the light dancing across your face in a way that makes something baser claw at the pit of his stomach.

Shiny thing. Dragons like shiny things. You would be a most gorgeous shiny thing. Always ethereal, no matter what you're wearing or doing. If you would permit him, you would be his most valued treasure.

His heart sings at the thought, almost tying itself in a knot. That low, tingling feeling comes back to him and Malleus wants to croon his Dragon Song. It would fall on deaf ears, so to speak, as you have no dragon blood to appeal to. "Your eyes are doing that thing again." Malleus flinched a little, green fire sparking in his mouth as a warning puff of smoke dissipated between you. He didn't realize you'd come upon him again. The dragon relaxed, turning his head away as he exhaled the building smoke through his nose before it could send him into an undignified coughing fit.

Lilia had been consulting his grandmother on some behaviors as of late and both arrived to the same conclusion: he's experiencing draconian puberty. 'The thing' his eyes do are a sign of said puberty. It is the unfurling of all his emotions, the dilation of his eyes signaling his interest and trying to draw you ever deeper to him. In a way, it is a thrall, but it leaves him at your mercy as much as it should leave you in his.

Somehow, you don't take it as hard. If his world wasn't a sudden explosion of the scent of your skin and soap, the heat of your body, and the curious fondness with which you look at him, he would ponder this injustice further.

But he does not. Right now he can't even find the words for a simple lie, a diversion, as he breathes in the smell of you and tries not to melt. To have you touch him right now would be the worst thing but he's never wanted it more. He wants so badly to sink his fangs into your wrist, your neck, and let you wear the affectionate bruises like a family crest. His family crest.

"You're supposed to be getting changed," you admonish him.

"Mmm, but I can't," Malleus refrains from snuggling into the small towel you're blotting against his face. He closes his eyes and tries to sense the heat of your hand through the fabric as you move carefully around his lashes. "I'm being tended to and it would be rude to interrupt," he teases.

"No point in giving you dry clothes if you're going to get them wet putting them on." you laugh. He swallows thickly as you brush his throat dry. "Now go change," you swat him with the rag. Body towel and clothes in one hand, damp footprints follow Malleus to a spare room.

As he suspected, the clothes were ill-fit for his frame. Spade and Trappola were smaller than he was, being human and all. It was another thing entirely to get the shirt over his head without shredding it on his horns. He's afraid to move his arms too much and hopes he's not offending you by pulling the pants low enough to give his tail room. You've just finished laying his clothes out on dry towels before the fire and he's grateful.

It is a dying fire. You have a small supply of kindling and old papers to feed it but he doesn't think it will be enough. "I would like to repay your generosity with a gift. May I?" "You know you don't have to get me anything," you wave him off. He's not sure if it's a human trait or a you trait but you don't take easily to gifts.

"But it is practical and will serve us both," he knows he's caught your attention. He can see you trying to figure out what kind of gift that would be. Malleus approaches the fire, kneels down, and breathes it in. Dragons who can breathe fire, like himself, can convert outside sources of heat to their fire on rare occasions. You jump when he spits out a green flame and it roars to life, casting the walls in jeweled light and emitting a heat you didn't know you missed.

"Cozy!" you chirp. It was a gentle kind of heat that would be perfect for snuggling under a blanket. He sits on the other end of the sofa, a respectful cushion between you, and rests his head on a hand as he looks at you.

"And it will last much longer! You needn't fret about it getting out of control, either. It is my fire, and I can control it." he sees the beginning of sleep on you. Malleus grew up with Silver and was all too familiar with the slow descent into a nap. You make a valiant effort, he will give you that. You're in the middle of a soft argument about being rude to company and Malleus laughs despite himself.

He dropped in uninvited. Certainly that's more rude, yes?

The two of you lapse into a comfortable silence, the fae more amused than he has been in a long time as your eyes get heavier. You look stunning in the green glow and he can't help but think you'd look just as ravishing in black.

In a crown. On a throne. In his bed. All of these things have the Dragon Song welling up in him again. The buzzing in his chest closes off his ears; Malleus jumps to alertness as you tug gently on the ends of his dark hair. "You let your hair down. It'll get weird if it dries in a ponytail holder."

It takes some effort, but he untangles it from his hair. "What shall I do about you, Child of Man?" he muses. "I will be forever indebted to your attentiveness."

"Did you find anything cool on your walk? You always show me." your eyes twinkle with the vestiges of consciousness. This is your one final push before succumbing to sleep, he can tell. He did, in fact, find things to show you and had forgotten them until now. When you're drenched, everything just feels heavy and soaked through. Malleus fishes the random items from his coat pocket and settles back down on the couch.

You've seen all manner of things at this point--feathers, polished rocks, twisted roots that looked interesting, pieces of statues, actual gems--and it never gets old. He presents you with a rock carved into the shape of a bear, a chunk of what might have been an old cup, and a ring.

The ring doesn't catch your eye right away. You're too busy playing with the bear. He wiggles his hand so the firelight catches it and you still. Malleus takes the bear from you, flipping your hand over to slide it on your finger. "A gift, my dearest."

"Malleus, I--" you start to protest.

"We fae are no strangers to offerings, both giving and receiving. It would be a disservice to present you with anything less." he speaks over you, his words gentle but commanding. He kisses your hand.

You'd be lying if you said you hadn't thought of dating him. It just seemed a little silly--a random no-name person and the fae prince? What kind of cliche was this?

A handsome one that was staring you right in the face.

"If you'd like more, the best I can offer you is a kingdom." he teases, lounging back against the sofa. He said it so casually that it caught you off guard. You're face is almost unbearably hot and Malleus chuckles.

"A whole kingdom?" you finally recover. "I'll take it."

Oh, there it went. Malleus felt the trap snap shut on his heart. This was the lethal moment Lilia warned him. He was helplessly smitten and enchanted. Irreversibly so.

"Truly?" he's before you in a second, one hand around your waist and the other holding the one with the ring. "Now is not the time to jest, Child of Man. I offer you my heart in earnest and the reply must be just as true!" he's staring up at you through his bangs and you swear you see more scales on his forehead.

"W-Well, yeah," you stutter. "I wouldn't mind. Just kind of thought we would do more dates and stuff first," your face was heating up again.

"We shall, as many as you like!" he's scooped you up in one arm, cradling you to his chest. You threw your legs around him so you didn't fall backwards but he doesn't notice, pulling your other hand over his shoulder. "Every day, even! As soon as the weather clears, in fact!" "But it'll be dark out!" you protest. Malleus probably could change the weather if he wanted but that wouldn't stop the ground from squelching and things being nasty. He stopped excitedly rambling about walks and things to do.

"We've walked in the dark before?" he doesn't understand why you don't want to go out this particular time. "And I have seen you to your door, safe and sound every time."

"But we're already here. Together. Inside." you explain slowly. "Maybe we could...cuddle...a little."

Oh yes. Splendid idea! Malleus all but dives for the couch at the suggestion. It is a paltry nest but it's yours. You're still recovering from the recoil, glad he fell back first and didn't squish you.

Did you just hear something rip? You hope he didn't break the couch. You don't get much time to think about it as he pulls you close and tucks you under his chin like he's been rehearsing it with a pillow. He's just the right combination of soft and muscle, of guard and gentle as he figures out where to put his hands. He settles for one supporting his head and the other cradling yours.

It's very awkward because he's mostly off the couch but he can't be bothered. You're slowly drifting to sleep in his arms and he's never felt more joy. He watches with deep interested, practically holding his breath as you sleep. Faes don't need as much sleep as humans but he doesn't think he could sleep if he tried because you've been courted by him!

Malleus is roused by his phone sometime later. The couch is small and cumbersome to him but it's held up. He begrudgingly untangled himself from you to answer it, long arm just reaching it on the table.

"Yes?"

It's Lilia. "Where are you, young man? We've been trying to reach you!"

He had fifteen missed calls from Sebek, eight from Lilia, and some text messages from Silver.

"Ensnared, I fear." Malleus smiles into the crown of your head. "I'm doomed to languish in absolute bliss. It's a very powerful enchantment, you see."

"Taken the leap, have you, Malleus?" he could hear the smile in Lilia's voice.

"I have, and I've landed in something quite wonderful."

"We fae are supposed to trick and trap, not the other way around! But...at least you're safe. Make it known that I will not tolerate--"

"Any eggs before marriage." Malleus rolled his eyes. He'd only heard that a million times recently.

"If you're not back at Diasomnia in two hours, I'll break that enchantment myself. Understood?"

"And if I object?" Malleus challenged, patting your head as you began to move.

There was a moment of silence. "I shall tell your grandmother."

Malleus hung up.

That might do the trick, he thought, brows raised. His grandmother was from an older generation of fae who were still entrenched in anti-human beliefs. Would she love you because he did? Could you enchant her, too? One look at your sleeping face, so at peace and pressed up against him, had him convinced.

Yes, he was pretty sure you could enchant any fae. It certainly worked on him.

[m0gg3t]

[NIGHT SIX?/SEVEN? OF HORRIFIC INSOMNIA SLEEP DEPRIVATION]

*delirious with fatigue*

THEY ENVY ME FOR MY HOMUNCULUS IMAGE

Ah fuck.

[twirlingsmilingwriting]

Tolerate It pt. 3 || Young! Coriolanus Snow X reader

"Took this dagger in me and removed it, gained the weight of you then lose it... If its all in my head tell me now. Tell me I've got it wrong somehow, I know my love should be celebrated but you tolerate it"

You don't need to read pt 1 to understand what is happening but if you want to ITS HERE

Part two is a little necessary but you'll prob catch on. Part two HERE

TLDR: Truly feeling like the luckiest person alive when your former classmate and short-term boyfriend asked you to marry him. Not even a year into the marriage and also a year into his presidency does the original love and admiration you felt for him start to dissipate. You can't help but feel trapped and tricked into a marriage in which he may have never loved you to begin with.

Warnings: Angst, Love-Bombing, marriage, gender ambiguous reader, typical snow tags (manipulation), alcohol, alluding to sexual acts but not described, kissing, unclear motives, crying, death, the reader being so delulu and manipulated omg, slight classism, self unaliving, blood

WORD COUNT: 7k

A/N: This is a dialogue-heavy one. Lots of yappin today y'all. Also a LOT and I mean a LOT darker than the others. I POSTED THIS LAST NIGHT BUT FORGOT TO PUT ANY TAGS SO I GOTTA REPOST IT

~

The morning light peered through the curtains of our bedroom ever so slightly, just enough that I could feel the warmth on my nose. I scrunched my face and squirmed under the covers. It wasn't until I felt the weight of his body move from beside me and get out of bed, that I reached my arm out for Coriolanus just to be greeted with nothing. I fluttered my eyes open and looked over. I watched intently while he threw on some clothes. God, he was gorgeous. Strikingly blond curls bouncing while he moved, his toned body with broad shoulders, a thin waist, those blue eyes and sharp jaw, he was so stunning. I love my husband so much. I whispered a quick 'good morning' to him and all he could do was hum in response. I sat up in the bed and used the sheet to cover myself up.

"Where are you going, Darling?"

"I have some business to attend to. You wouldn't understand, my beautiful empty head."

Aww. He called me beautiful. He gave me a quick glance before heading out and slamming the door behind him. I got out of bed and scoured the room for something decent to put on. Clothes from the night before had been scattered and I knew I'd have to add laundry to today's agenda. I picked up a white silk shirt from atop the dress and I threw the shirt over my head, I let out a soft sigh, looking over at myself in the tall gold mirror taking note of the smudged makeup and eyeliner that had dried in blackened streaks down my face from last night's tears. Tiny hickies decorated my neck and collarbones and I couldn't stop the smile that spread on my face from the joy I felt from Coriolanus claiming me as his. Gratitude is the best way I can describe the feeling. I am married to the most powerful man in Panem. What could I have done to deserve this?

Our relationship got rocky sometimes, yes, but he was just busy. I can't help but blame myself for how he was treating me after we got married. To be fair, he did just become president. I can't even imagine how stressful that must've been for him. It made sense why it felt like he had no time for me. Last night he admitted he never even knew I felt so neglected, it must've been my fault. Clearly, he loves me right?

Last night, I felt so loved, the way he kissed me and wrapped his arms around me, his aroma filled my senses. He loves me so much, if he didn't he wouldn't be showing me off to a whole nation of people right?

I kept asking myself for reassurance, but I had my answer, no one just marries someone they don't love.

Right?

Of course, he does. I remember when it started, it was real, so real. He's just been so tired these past few months. He has his reasons and I should understand that I can't be so selfish to be in his life taking up too much space and time. I am lucky for the sentences I will get in the story of a monumental man. Looking in the mirror of the vanity, I took a deep breath and smiled in contentment. My eyes continued to scan the display. The vanity was a white desk and drawer set with a large and extravagant mirror outlined with gold. I had hand-painted vines of ivy on the wood. The desk had makeup and my rose-scented perfume. Honestly, I always preferred fruity and sweet scents but Coryo loves it more when I smell like roses. My fingers tapped the delicate glass bottle before I placed it back down and walked to the window to look over the garden where we had the party last night.

Tables were still set up and cups littered the lawn. I giggled a little bit, remembering the fun people were having dancing around the area without a care in the world. There was always a certain type of peace that came after parties when everyone left. Similar to nostalgia where it's that strong sense of bliss but also a certain emptiness that comes from the drop from high emotions and energy to nothingness. Still, the memories of the fun of last night came back to me. A few men dressed in white peacekeeper uniforms started to file into the area and I cocked an eyebrow up in confusion. They must be coming to clean up the trash. My eyes followed them.

That's when I saw it.

The body of a tall man with ginger hair lay lifeless on his back on the stone pathway of the garden. It was the same man that I had talked with last night, Curtis. His eyes were rolled back into his head and speckles of blood could be seen on the corners of his mouth. A cup was held loosely in his hand. I gasped and my jaw hung low in shock. How could this have happened? Did he choke on something? Got into a fight? The peacekeepers started to harshly pick up his body and filed him out. Did Coryo know about this? The blood quickly left my face and I felt a sinking sense of doom in my stomach.

I had only known the man for a moment, but I felt like he was a good man. He didn't deserve whatever happened to him. The peacekeepers left the area and then moments later the maids came in to clean. Tears started to prick the corner of my eyes before I gulped heavily. Maybe he just drank too much last night. The red was just dried wine...

Yes

Yes

That made sense right...?

I had to think of something to ease my mind. Maybe I could ask Coryo about it later. More and more maids filed into the area, their black uniforms making the whole scene previously seem more grim. Red started appearing in my teary-eyed peripheral vision and I quickly shut the curtains. My chest heaved up and down as I struggled to catch my breath. I had to collect myself. I probably didn't understand the situation fully, Coriolanus knows what's going on, he always does. I won't worry about it until he comes home. I walked over the desk and wrote little notes for him on a few pieces of paper, scattering them around the bedroom. Then, I went to take a shower. I was going to have lunch with my mother today, I had to get ready.

~

The doorbell rang and I walked over to answer it. Instantly, my mother had wrapped her arms around me bringing me into a warm hug.

"Y/N! Sweetheart I missed you so much it's been so long," she spoke softly and I couldn't help the childish smile that dragged across my face.

"I haven't seen you since the wedding mom I missed you too," she loosened her grip on me and walked into the house.

"Wow... you truly are living in a life of luxury now sweetie look at this place... I see you put your little artistic flair on things haha," she joked and awed at the size of the house.

"Oh, the little paintings? I didn't think other people would notice them haha, after I dust I like to add the little things and details around. I've been hoping Coryo would notice but he's just a man, and he's so busy and tired all the time I can't blame him for not noticing. You should look at the plates when we eat today! I've been trying to add things to the table wear, which makes eating a lot more fun."

She continued to look around and I watched intently while her eyes followed the small roses, vines, clouds, and butterflies I had painted on the pillars and edges of the house. She then brought her attention back to me and pressed her lips into a thin smile, a glint of sadness was painted into her stormy eyes.

"Sweetheart, you look so thin, are you eating well? He doesn't have you on some crazy diet does he? With the amount of money you guys have I feel like you should be eating three-course meals for every meal..."

"Mom please~ I'm an adult, don't worry about me so much."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"Come on let's go sit down at the table, foods' almost ready." I interlocked my arm with hers and started to guide her to the dining room. We sat facing each other. The chefs cooking could be heard faintly.

"How is the married life treating you?"

"Um... Well honestly mom, it's been rough. I felt like the original spark of our relationship had been extinguished the moment he put this ring on my finger, he had grown very cold and I swear there were days that went by where he didn't even look at me but last night we talked it out. He didn't even know I felt like that so I can't be mad at him"

"Sweetheart, I've been here for about 10 minutes and I can't help but continue to pick up these little details that are showing he isn't treating you the way you deserve. You are smarter than this Y/N I raised a strong fighting spirit, you survived a war with us and never let that darkness cloud the brightness that is your light but right now honey, you seem sad. I don't think your romantic spark is the only thing he's diminishing sweetheart, he's burning you out." Her hand reached out for mine and we interlocked fingers. She looked deeply into my eyes and I watched as the concern grew in hers.

"No mom it's not like that. He's just busy, you should know how hard he's working. I know my place is to sit and listen to him, he's so much wiser than I am. He's a great man and he loves me," I started to get a little defensive but tried to hold my temper. Her lips pursed and she gave my hand another squeeze. It was then the chefs came out and placed our plates in front of us. We sat in silence for a moment while we started to eat.

"You're stubborn I know. The more we tell you to run from him the further it pushes you away from us and closer to him. You should be celebrated, you do so much for this man and he gives you nothing. This... this just doesn't seem healthy."

"Mom. I'm fine. I'm breathing. My health is fine"

"But your soul isn't."

Her words spit venom into me and I froze in place and listened. "Truly, what kind of man doesn't let his spouse see their family more than once every few months. I had to beg him to be able to see you today. We all miss you at home. Hell, I miss you."

Shock ran through my body while I spoke. "He told me you never reached out for these past few months." A chuckle left her lips. "Does that man do anything but lie? I shouldn't be surprised... politicians will always say what you want to hear and what benefits them."

"Mom I- can we please talk about something else? I don't appreciate you disrespecting my husband. I shouldn't have ever said anything. This is why he doesn't want you around is you keep disrespecting him. I promise mom everything is okay. Just rocky sometimes and that's mostly my fault."

Her face scrunched up and she looked away to avoid eye contact. She frowned before taking another bite of the food.

"It just hurts to see you like this... I almost feel like I should've stopped it sooner-"

"Mom," I cut her off and slammed my fist on the table slightly. She quickly shut up again before her lips parted.

"How was the party last night?"

"Lovely, the capital parties are always a joy. Coryo even made a toast to me at the end of the night it was so heartwarming." I smiled, happy she changed the subject. I started to gush about how sweet Coryo was last night to try and defend himself from my mother. I don't understand why all of my loved ones just couldn't seem to like him.

"Did he talk to you?" She asked tilting her head up.

"Who?"

"Curtis."

My face went pale and my jaw dropped. Flashbacks to what I had seen that morning rushed into my mind and I sat there horrified. First was the shock then the confusion.

"He's a friend of your older brother. He's been living with us for awhile while his new house gets built. Your brother asked him personally to come to the party last night to try and talk to you. We weren't sure if we were going to be able to see you today so we were trying to find any way to talk to you and make sure you were okay."

"He um... yes I do believe I talked to him. He was very charming, sweet. He reminded me of someone I used to know but we only talked for a little last night..." I was in a daze while I spoke. I didn't want to talk about Coryo's jealous outburst or what I saw that morning.

"That's good to hear. Y/N how was he last night? He didn't come home last night though. Was he drunk when you left? We've been worried sick."

"He... no he seemed very sober though he did have the confidence of a drunk man." I tried to joke to distract from the adrenaline and fear that was pumping through my veins.

"Sweetheart I can tell when you're keeping things from me. Please, darling you can tell me anything, I'm your mother"

I avoid her eye contact like the plague and continued to eat my food, struggling to swallow.

"It's nothing really, I'm just a little tired today that's all. Mom, eat your food please, it's delicious. How's dad?"

Her suspicious mind was reflected in her suspicious eyes. She was not going to let this go so easily. I could see the same grim expression I had on my face from earlier start to spread on hers.

"The first thing I ever heard about your husband was that any person who got too close to him ended up dead, missing or disgraced. I truly hope you don't follow in those same steps."

"Mom, you guys told me that same line over and over again before we got married and it's not even true. Name one person who he's done that to"

She scoffed and spoke quietly.

"Lucy Gray."

I raised an eyebrow at her in confusion.

"Who?"

"I don't believe you watched The Hunger Games this year, you never liked the blood. There truly isn't any way to confirm this now but Coriolanus was in charge of mentoring a girl from District 12 named Lucy Gray. She was a songbird and I remember the first time I watched her sing on television, it was breathtaking. Rumors spread that your husband fell in love with her and planned to run off with her and then one day, she disappears. Not a single trace left but he returned. He returned to the capital and mysteriously got gifted a scholarship and an internship. That is a shady man."

"Respectfully mom I think you're telling folk tales right now. He told me I was his first love, the first one to make him feel so alive so that can't be true. I've never even heard of this girl. Wouldn't my classmates have said something?"

She shrugged. "I wouldn't say anything to upset the man suspected of such crimes." Suddenly, a peacekeeper walked into the dining room and another followed in. Doors slammed around us and one spoke in a booming voice. "By orders of President Snow, we have been assigned to escort you out of here ma'am" They got on either side of my mom and grabbed her arms.

"There must be some sort of mistake here, it's barely 2, he said I could be here till 3! Let me down!"

I stood there frozen and helpless, I had no clue what to do. I yelled at them to wait but they pulled her out of her seat then started to head out. She started kicking and tried to fight back. "Let me say goodbye! I need a hug! I am the mother here, it's my right to see my child! He sent you guys here huh? Can't stand my kid hearing the truth? All this that's happening to me is his fault!"

"Mama! Goodbye! I love you!"

"He did it Y/N! You know he did it! Don't let it happen to you my love! Fight, there must be a way out! You're better than this. I love you!"

She shouted while they escorted her out. Her voice echoed around the room whispering the words 'He did it'. As much as I shook my head I couldn't stop thinking about it. Sickening silence bounced against the walls while my head ran back everything that had just happened. I couldn't help but let warm tears fall from my eyes while I sat back down in my chair. I'm so confused. I just needed my husband right now. A maid walked in and cleaned up the table and I sat in the chair and cried.

~

I laid down in bed, sitting up staring at the ceiling. The bed was as comfortable as sleeping on a cloud but I couldn't sleep, nothing could calm the storm in my head. The door handle turned and I saw Coryo glace into the room. His blue eyes made eye contact with mine as he stepped into the room slowly. He shut the door behind him and started to loosen his tie.

"Darling, you're still up?"

"I can't sleep..." I admitted and watched as his plump lips parted to expel a sigh. He started to change into his pajamas.

"Why dear?" He started to crawl into bed and pulled me into him with his strong arms.

"Can I ask you a question?" I felt his grip on me tighten before he nodded and hummed a soft 'yes' into the air. A sigh left my lungs and I pressed my hand against my temples. Where do I even start?

"Coryo... have you ever killed anyone before?"

"W- what?"

I tipped my head up and looked deep into his blue eyes to search for any form of sincerity. "Please be honest with me... please..."

"Darling what could have ever put these sorts of ideas in your pretty little head?"

"Coryo that's not important now please answer me. I just want your honesty here, if you're honest I will not judge you, I- I'll still love you."

The only emotion I could see on his face was panic. He removed his arm from my body and I started to panic in response. He had just started being nice to me again and I was worried I pushed him away. My big mouth just couldn't stay shut.

"Y/N, of course I haven't. Who do you perceive me as? Some kind of monster? The only person I have ever killed is my past self and he had to die so I could be the man I am today, a man ready to love you the way you deserve."

He was rambling and his lack of eye contact made me feel uneasy. I wanted to believe him, I truly did but with the way he was acting, I couldn't wholeheartedly believe him and that made me feel sick. I should not be this distrustful of my husband. I started to zone off, lost in deep thought when his hand met my jaw and he positioned my head up to look at him. "Y/N you trust me don't you? I've done everything for you, you should trust me darling." He planted a quick kiss on my forehead. "I- I believe you Coryo." He smiled down and then pressed a kiss to my lips. I melted against his touch and placed my hands to cup his face. When we pulled away I still couldn't shake the questions that flooded my head. Remembering what my mother said, I couldn't help myself from the words spilling out of my mouth.

"Coryo... one last question, Who is Lucy Gray?"

His lips parted and his eyes frantically started to search my face. "How did you hear about her?"

"Coryo?"

Anger started to flood his eyes and his jaw clenched. Regret filled every part of my body and I sat up on the bed, keeping my hands on his face. "I'm sorry Coryo, is that a touchy subject I-" He was quiet for a moment as if planning what he was going to say.

"She... she was a nobody girl from District 12. I had to mentor her for The Hunger Games that year for my school project. I came out on top, Snow always lands on top."

He spoke through gritted teeth while he looked into my eyes, scanning my face for a reaction. What he told me so far aligned exactly with what my mom told me. This was even more worrying. There had to be more. He was keeping something from me. He could sense my distrust and started to speak again, more carefully.

"Darling, do you want the full truth?"

"Yes Coryo..."

He let out a heavy sigh. "She was my first girlfriend. We had a short fling and then she cheated on me." My jaw dropped. "Oh Coryo I'm so sorry..." I reached out and pulled him into a tight hug, tangling my fingers in his blond locks of hair. "It's okay darling, you didn't know. You don't know a lot of things." His hands started to rub my back up and down while I held him close.

"I never loved her anyways, I could never love someone so low class and trashy."

In an odd way I felt almost comforted by that statement. It meant he wasn't lying to me, I was his first love, right? He placed his hands on my stomach and pushed me away from the hug. My arms fell back down to my sides and I stared at him with deep remorse in my eyes. He smiled again, "It's okay Darling, is there anything else I can answer for you to put your troubled mind at ease?" Truthfully, I had a lot more questions but I felt bad and I didn't want to push him away more, not when our relationship was so delicate. I shook my head 'no' and he hummed before laying down on the bed. I followed suit and he turned his back to me.

"Goodnight"

"Goodnight..."

"I love you"

And then I was met with silence.

~

The next day passed and it was business as usual but I still couldn't get my mother's voice out of my head. My ears rang with every corner I turned. I saw Coryo's panicked face every time I closed my eyes after I asked him if he had killed anyone. It made me sick to my stomach but I didn't believe him. I do believe my mom was wrong about Lucy Gray though, he was genuinely hurt when I asked about her. I couldn't even imagine anyone wanting to cheat on him. Especially a girl from District 12, the opportunity to be with a capital man, especially one as charming, smart, and talented as Coryo should be a blessing. My poor husband probably had to deal with so much then.

When he came home he didn't talk to me that day. He couldn't even look me in the eye really. I felt wildly embarrassed and guilty. Of course, he was pulling away again, I pushed him. I should've just kept my pretty mouth shut like he had asked. My mom must have been mistaken. They don't know him like I do. It was nice to know how much they cared about me though.

Coriolanus slept in his office that night. I assume he had business to attend to so I just sat and tried to sleep alone in bed.

~

The next morning I woke up late and decided to try and make it up to Coryo by trying to leave more "I love you" notes around the house. I painted a portrait of a lake on one of his mugs, adding rose and ivy details to the handle. Stumbling down the hallway in the afternoon I walked by Coryo's office. I knew I wasn't allowed in there but damn it I was so curious. There were two maids in there talking and I silently eavesdropped.

"Careful when dusting that... This man has a lot of secrets and what's in those vials one I do not want to know about."

The other laughed and they continued to clean up.

"Isn't it odd we decided to have such a liar for a president?"

'Liar?' I thought. Why does everyone seem to think he's a liar?

"Yeah but he's great for the economy and the future of Panem."

Silence filled the room and then they both started laughing again.

"That doesn't seem to make it any better, then again, let's not bite the hand that feeds us."

They started to finish cleaning his office and once they left I snuck in. My hands traced around the walls of his office, it was small and packed with things. On his desk lay a little book filled with names and numbers, a pack of matches, a single white rose, and the vials the maids were talking about. Curiously, I reached for it. It was probably liquor or something. I picked it up carefully and examined it. It was clear and sealed shut. Cautiously, I started to unscrew the top and placed a drop of it on my finger. The liquid burned through my skin and I yelped loudly in pain. I grabbed a napkin and wiped it off my hand. I screamed in pain and the smell of burning flesh filled the room. Hot tears ran down my face as I removed the napkin and saw the damage that it left. My finger was red, hot, and my flesh was melted in the shape of a circle where the drop had been placed. Gasping desperately for breath, I tightly closed the lid of the vile and put it right back where I found it. I continued to cry from the searing pain, my finger throbbed and I whimpered desperately trying to keep quiet. I picked up my trash and made sure I left no trace of myself in there while I rushed to the kitchen, rinsing my finger under the water. Once the burning had gone away I slid down and laid my back against the kitchen cabinet.

"F- fuck fuck fuck- fucking poison. WHY THE FUCK WOULD HE HAVE POISON?"

I started to rock back and forth while I watched the skin around the burn turn purple. This must've been some sort of divine punishment to me for going into his office knowing I wasn't supposed to. One maid heard my wailing and hurried over to help me. She put an ointment on my finger before wrapping it up in a band-aid and above all, she didn't ask a question. I couldn't tell if that meant she was used to this kind of thing or if she was trained not to. I picked myself up off the floor and continued to go about my day and pretend that nothing happened.

Coryo didn't come to bed that night, I wasn't too sure if he had even come home honestly. I fell asleep alone again with nothing but my thoughts.

~

The next morning I was awakened by a rough hand shaking my shoulder. I yawned and opened my eyes to be met with Coryo's blue ones. They were deep and full of concern. He was sitting next to me on the bed still in his work clothes. I felt that pit of grief deep in my stomach again. Something was wrong, greatly wrong. "Coryo?" I asked, trying to remain calm.

"Y/N..."

"Coryo what's the matter?"

He sighed with deep remorse and said the worst news I had ever heard in my life. "Your parents... Y/N... your whole family they... um... their house burned down last night and the firefighters couldn't make it in time. When they arrived there, they searched the house but not a single survivor was found. They did find this though in your mothers room," He handed me a single stuffed doll. The doll was mine from when I was a child, it didn't have a single burn on it. I held it in my hands and sat staring at it in silence. They were gone. My whole family was gone. The tears threatened to spill but I felt so sick of crying lately. Why did my life feel like it was falling apart so fast? I just wanted a happy life as a newly wed and I have gotten nothing remotely close to that.

"Coryo... What's wrong with me? I'm like a bomb, anyone who cares about me either leaves me or dies... Am I cursed? I didn't even get to say goodbye. I didn't even get to hug them or- or- or see how big my little brother got or how smart my older brother is. I- I- I should've seen them more," I started weep, my tears starting to fall onto the doll below me, as if my tear were staining the innocence of the girl I used to be. Coriolanus grabbed me and held me close as I started to cry furiously into his chest. He planted a soft kiss on the top of my head and tried to whisper things to calm me down. His hands rubbed up and down my back.

"Darling, it's okay. You're going to be okay. You have me. I'll be here for you always. I make you happy, right? Your parents were always trying to keep you away from me... they didn't know you like I do. They don't know what you need darling but I do. We are going to get through this together, okay?'

I could barely process what he was saying through my tears. I just nodded into his chest and he continued to let me cry. I felt so safe in his arms in this moment. He was right, I do need him.

~

I couldn't get out of bed for days. The grief struck me overwhelmingly. I couldn't think straight. I just lay in bed and stared at the ceiling for hours at a time. When the foggy mist of the shock that had clouded my rationale finally faded I was left with the remaining thoughts. What was even real in this life anymore? I remember feeling so sad when almost none of my friends showed up to my wedding. I felt so alone and isolated but at least I knew I still had my family and my husband to be there for me and now, all I had was Coriolanus. I love him, I need him, but he's the type that gives love and then takes it away.

Maybe my mom was right... Maybe I do deserve better. This relationship isn't healthy. Has it ever been? Even when I was first falling for him, I always viewed him as better than me, which he is but shouldn't we be equal? Maybe... I'm too reliant on the love he gives me. I hate that. I hate how big of a hold he has on me. The way my happiness is always at the tip of his fingers, it makes me feel so weak. His hold on me is degrading. The worst part is, he knows how strong his power over me is. He knows me. He's learned me inside and out and he knows how to keep me under his palm.

My mom was right. The night of the party, he started yelling at me then when I threatened to leave him he switched. How could- how could I be so stupid? He switched because he didn't want me to leave him. He needed me to be there for him, to be his shining sparkling eye candy, to complete his perfect picture of domestic living, to be his waiting servant. And then when we made love that night, it must've not meant anything to him. He knows I believe everything people do has a purpose, he knows I don't ever want to exchange sex like a handshake. He slept with me to prove to me that he 'loves me' but that can't be true. I love him, his heart will never have space for me in it. No man treats someone he loves the way he treats me. I've been aware of this but every time I've gotten the courage to leave him he pulled me back in.

He's smart, he's manipulative. He's been doing it to me for months now. How could I be so stupid? Love is the most embarrassing thing to ever happen to me. He found his wide-eyed dreamer and just needed to ruin me. Even recently, he used my parent's death to try and make me even more dependent on him and it worked. I can't live without him.

"He did it"

His desk, the poison, no sane and normal man keeps poison in his office. It's making me think. The boy... the one my parents sent. Did Coryo know he was going to be there? He must've, the party was invite-only, you don't just sneak into the capital parties. The last thing Curtis did before he left was pour himself another cup of the juice. When Coryo ushered me into the house, I heard a man coughing from the garden but I didn't look, I couldn't, I was pushed away. His body the next morning... He had blood on his mouth. I remember learning from the academy that some poisons often makes you cough up blood before you die. Coryo had the poison. Could it be... did Coryo murder him?

"He did it"

Before I looked away when I saw his body in the garden, a glint of red could be seen in my vision. Was that his red coat?

"He did it"

Oh my god, the matches. He told me my parents house burned down.

"He did it"

The book with the names and numbers... who's names were in that book? What were the numbers?

"He did it"

I got out of bed for the first time in ages and rushed down to his office. My bones ached from the lack of mobility. I reached his office and rushed in. His notebook was gone. I started opening his drawers frantically. Finally, I found it. I opened up the pages and that was the last bit of proof I needed. His journal had the names and addresses of the different capital citizens, one page dedicated to every member of my family.

"He did it"

The matches were missing fully. Not anywhere to be found.

"He did it"

The doll. My doll. The doll probably reminded him of me, just a pretty object he can play with whenever he wants something to hold. It didn't have a single burn mark on it at all, he must've gotten it before the fire. Either that means my family let him into the house before he burned it down or he's been keeping it for a while.

"He did it"

My mom did say she had been trying to reach out to me for ages but couldn't. He was stopping them. He wanted to keep me isolated. I really didn't know who I was marrying. I married a murderer.

"He did it"

I couldn't continue to live with him but I can't live without him. It made me feel sick how much love I still felt for him even knowing he had been trying to destroy me from the inside out. I can't let him take my light. My mom really was right. Everyone who gets close to him ends up dead, missing, or disgraced. It's my turn to pick which path I was going to be.

My heart raced as I ripped a page out of his notebook and wrote a note for him, leaving it on the desk. I reached over and grabbed that familiar vile of poison and unscrewed the top. The cold glass hit my lips and I drank the contents like a shot. My heart raced and I started coughing profusely, everything burned from the inside out. Blood started to flow out the corners of my mouth but for once, I wasn't crying. Mama, I'm coming.

"He did it"

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

Coriolanus Snows POV

I'd be lying if I said I didn't cry when I found Y/N dead on the floor of my office. Blood trickled down the side of their mouth and they were holding the tiny vial I had on my desk. Y/N knew not to go into my office and frankly, I was shocked to see that it happened in there. On my desk was a note that said: "Till death do us part". I screamed loudly and felt like my body wasn't my own as I feverishly picked up the body and walked to the nearest in-house medic. Tears poured down my face. How dare Y/N just decide to selfishly leave me like this? After everything I had done? All the trouble I went through? It was ridiculous. I remember thinking, "I had you."

When I first met Y/N I remember believing that they were the embodiment of everything good in the world and the embodiment of what I needed in a partner. Loyal, innocent, trusting, naive, controllable. Truly, there isn't any room in this world for such goodness. My darling needed to be tougher or the cold world would do nothing but ruin them. I tried to make them tougher but their unconditional love was annoying at times but I tolerated it. No matter what I did to push Y/N away, they insisted on loving me till the end, but why? And if they did love me so much why would they leave me like this?

The medic couldn't do anything. Y/N was long gone by the time I got there. So much wasted time and potential. I don't think I will marry again. Not for many years at least. Just when it is time for me to have heirs I will marry. Gives my future wife less time to escape. I have to marry someone cruel, someone whom I can never seem to care about, especially not love. Y/N's crippling kindness almost had me falling at the end and that was dangerous.

The funeral was lavish. My darling was beloved by the public. Many mourned for weeks. It was shocking. As much as I tried to not care, the energy of the house felt so different now. It was a wasteland of what once was. Dust collected in every nook and cranny. I stumbled into the house and stood still, letting the world spin around me for a moment when I tilted my head up and noticed something I hadn't seen before, paintings, hundreds of them. Y/N painted tons of things around the pillars and walls. They were beautiful. Ivy and roses, clouds and sunshine. I forgot how truly artistically talented Y/N was. My eyes followed how the ivy traveled around the pillars. Ivy was a great metaphor for Y/N, beautiful, and simple, but still a pest that will grow all over you if you aren't too careful.

"Sir, Welcome home. We have prepared dinner for you." the butler said, pulling me out of my trance.

"Thank you and can we get someone to repaint this room ASAP, I need some things removed.

-

The whole house ended up being repainted. I never noticed how many of those paintings were left. Even on the furniture, I couldn't escape any of my memories of Y/N anywhere. The notes were the absolute worst. Small pieces of paper everywhere with sweet nothings written on them. "Have a good day", "I love you", "Good morning to Panem's greatest leader" Nowhere was safe. Memories and images circled my brain constantly.

I sat at the table we used to eat at alone, drinking coffee from my mug while reading the newspaper. They still were on the front page. It's been a month since the incident. I sighed and folded the paper, placing it face down on the table. I reached for the mug when I saw it again. A painting of a lake with roses and ivy painted on the handle. The lake... the lake. The lake of District 12,

Lucy Gray

The roses,

My Mother

The Ivy...,

y/n

I shouted at the top of my lungs and threw the mug at the wall. When will I finally be free of the past pests that continue to haunt my life?

~

A/N: WHAT DID YOU GUYS THINK??? It is almost 5 AM and I stayed up all night writing this, I hope you guys liked it. let me know plz. Now accepting requests for new stories, perhaps with new characters :)))

[somewherebetweendisorder]

The Life We Build

Jason Todd x fem!reader

Warnings: angst, fluff ?? i think that's it

A/N: originally posted to my old blog (basicallybats). i was originally writing it as an eddie munson fic, but i really wanted it to be jason, so if you notice any typos or mistakes, no you don't. as always, thank you for reading! <3

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO COPY, REPOST, OR USE MY WORK IN ANY WAY

~

"We need to go to the grocery store."

Your hands are buried in Jason's hair, thick waves curling around your fingers, soft and smelling faintly of your conditioner.

"Huh? Why?"

He tips his head back, so he can see your face, fingers freezing, a page caught between them. You recognize the book. It's your annotated copy of Pride and Prejudice. A soft smile curls at your lips, something painfully saccharine about the fact he prefers your copy; your thoughts.

"Because we have no food, Jay. Did you use my conditioner again?"

"Yeah."

"I know. I can smell it on you."

He snorts, eyes closing as you continue to massage his scalp, shaking his head lightly. "Then why did you ask?"

"I just wanted you to 'fess up. Now c'mon, we need to get food, for real. There's like, half a jar of peanut butter and a beer."

"Sounds like a decent enough dinner."

You remove your hands from his soft locks, and he whines, sitting up and carefully setting your book on the bed beside him. Jason doesn't want to go, you know that, can see the distaste and boredom brewing in his eyes already, but he will go, for you.

"Fine. Get dressed. Let's go."

You pull on an old, well-worn tee of his, slipping on your shoes and trailing him down the hall. He holds open the front door for you, locks it behind himself, jogs down the stairs to meet you at the passenger side door, swinging it open with a flourish.

The drive to the store is quiet, Jason tapping the steering wheel to the beat of the music on the radio, bobbing his head gently, one hand on your thigh. The smile on your face didn't go unnoticed as he snuck glances at you out of the corner of his eyes.

Gotham is a god-forsaken place. Smog, trash, the highest crime rate in the nation, and a mile-long list of casualties. Jason remembers what it felt like to be back. The whisper of trauma is at the forefront of his mind. The memories, good and bad, all shot through with something unshakeably bitter. Part of him will always love Gotham, just as part of him will always hate it. But you- You are beautiful. The sort of beautiful that frequently had his heart stalling, breath burning in his lungs when he forgot how to breathe at the sight of your sunny smile, and bright eyes. Your personality and laugh, uncensored and genuine.

You are Jason's diamond in the rough. He can't bring himself to hate Gotham quite the way he did before you, but he can't shake the thought that you'll never reach your full potential here. A flower without enough sunlight can't fully bloom. Fuck, everyone knows Gotham is where good things go to die.

As Jason grabs a shopping cart you walk next to him, sliding your arm through his, a sort of camaraderie.

"We should make a casserole this week," you suggest, eyes reading the signs above the aisles, trying to piece together a meal plan in your head.

"What kind of casserole?"

You sigh, distracted, uncertain. "I don't know. Never mind. I've never even made a casserole."

He bumps his hip against yours gently, silently asking for your attention. He waits until you look at him to speak, lips twitching into a soft smile. "We have that cookbook your grandma gave us. And lasagna counts as a casserole. You've made that plenty of times."

"Does it?"

"Sure."

He's bent on reassurance. Jason knows this is new; cooking is hardly your forte. It would be easier to let him do the cooking, but you've been so eager, and you're taking to it really well. He hates the insecurity bubbling in your voice, he wants it gone. At his insistence, you soften, a bit of tension leaving your shoulders as you nod.

"Okay, we can make lasagna. And what else?"

Your gaze catches on the fresh flowers, bright and fragrant, their sweet smell permeating the air. You look at Jason, desperately curious to see if they've caught his attention too, but they haven't. He's looking at a rack of magazines, leather jacket pulled taught across his shoulders, green eyes crinkling in the corners as he squints at the cover of the newest scandal magazine.

"Good God, Dick is on the cover of another fucking tabloid. I thought he-"

It's an odd thought, this sudden need to pick out flowers with your boyfriend. You long to talk about where you should put them, what color would match your sofa and look nicest in front of the window.

"Jason."

It's not the fact you use his name, his birth name, though this is unusual for you. It's always 'baby' or 'Jay' or 'babes'. No, it's the way you say it. Thick and serious, something he hadn't quite heard before, an almost severe expression taking over your pretty features.

"Y/N? Yeah, what's wrong?"

"Nothing. Nothing, just- Can we get some flowers?" He watches you shake your head, trying to clear the cobwebs.

It's the domesticity of it. A tender, mundane thing catching up to you as those things often do. Something painfully sweet about it, stability your life lacked until Jason. And now? Now going to the grocery store with him was better than anything you did before. Like cooking, like cleaning, like laying in bed all day, face pressed mercilessly into his skin, breathing him in as he reads to you, just because you could. It was an insatiable craving, one you needed fulfilled right now.

"Sure, baby. You wanna pick some out?"

Your nod is almost imperceptible, arm still curled around his, goosebumps creeping along your flesh. He sees. Sees the light in your eyes, knows you need this moment. Jason knows that every day like this erases those brutally lonely hours from before. Minutes marked with blood and grief, a bitter memory. He knows because these moments do the same for him, setting things right he wasn't sure could be fixed.

Fuck, he'll buy all the flowers here if it brings the carefree smile back to your lips. "What kind do you want?"

"I- I'm not sure. Anything. I'll know the right ones when I see 'em."

He peruses the bouquets, at a loss, this is far outside his comfort zone, but if it makes you happy.

Your wonder hurts his heart, wide eyes and shock every time you find new colors squished together, or flowers you haven't seen before. You should have been given flowers all the time. He checks the price of the bunch in his hands and winces. What he wouldn't give to buy you flowers like this every day. Maybe he should, he thinks.

"How about these?"

Your eyes fall on the wild bouquet of rich, wine roses, flowers in full bloom, overlapping each other, fighting for the gaze of the beholder. They're gorgeous, you can feel them without touching the silken petals, velvet. "They're nice."

He sees it on your face, the dismissal, the gentle rejection. The flowers are pretty, too pretty even, gaudy, and suffocating. They're the type of thing that would fit well in Bruce's home, but not yours. Far too formal, far too showy; you want something sweeter.

"They don't match… Anything at home."

"We'd have to pick weeds to match our apartment."

His words come too fast, voice flat, deadpan, shooting for humor, missing, falling by the wayside in a shallow bitterness. He sees the hurt in your expression the instant the words gush past his lips, a geyser of ill-timed distress. Fumbling, rushing forward, trying to make it right, he presses on. "I'm kidding. That was an exaggeration. We make a nice life. It's just we-"

He stops, letting the chatter of other patrons and the store radio fill the silence as he watches tears build in your eyes, shimmering beneath the harsh fluorescents.

"I'm kidding."

You know he wasn't. He meant the words, frustrated with dead-end jobs and your meager incomes, scraping by with just enough. He wanted more for you, more for himself, more of a future. But all you heard was the immediate dissatisfaction. It wasn't enough, it was never enough.

You shove the small cluster of sunflowers you're holding into his chest, plastic wrapping crinkling, flowers smushed against his chest with the severity of your action.

"I need to use the restroom. You can put these back. I'll meet you at the checkout."

"Baby I- Y/N!"

You run. There's not enough care in your bones to think about how odd it is for a grown woman to be running through the store, stumbling into the restroom, tears already tracking down her face.

Hands braced against the cool countertop, you stare at the water droplets scattered across the laminate from whoever last washed their hands. It's a fascinating pattern, water catching the light. A tear falls, splatters on the surface, and shines too. How pathetic are you that you're hiding in here, waiting for the onslaught of emotion to pass before you can face your boyfriend again? Before you can face his disdain?

Minutes drag by, the tears slowing and finally stopping. Red eyes stare back at you, bloodshot and hollow. With a harsh tug, you turn on the faucet, splashing cool water on your face, hoping it soothes the obvious signs of crying.

Time is up, you can't stall any longer. With a fortifying gulp of oxygen, you drag the paper towel harshly across your face, wiping away the water, and push the door open. Jason is waiting there, shopping cart abandoned a few feet away, leaning against the wall, local business cards pinned to the wall next to store notices, hands shoved deep in his pockets.

"Baby."

You're frozen, eyes locked on the overlapping flyers and cards on the wall over his shoulder, unable to meet his gaze. Jason can see it. The remnants of salt tracks on your cheeks, eyes red and puffy, lashes clumped together from the water you hastily splashed on your face in a harried attempt to cover your reaction. 

He wishes he could rewind, take back the past few minutes, and unsay those words, spare you the heartache. He knows he can't; it's a pointless wish, spent in vain like the coins he tossed in the well with his mother all those years ago. 

"Baby," he repeats, voice low, shoulders sagging when you ignore him. "Y/N, just look at me, please."

His voice isn't him, isn't Jason, viscid like a flower soaked with dew, drooping beneath his regret. He's too pretty, too serious, you shouldn't let him wallow in it, you know that. But his words were too real, too close to that oozy, rotten spot in your heart that cries for acceptance. 

It takes everything in you to drag your gaze to his, jarring when you meet those eyes, deep and sorry, churning like an earthen ocean, soil and sediment devouring itself. It's like watching the earth cave in. It's alarming, unsettling, it makes you want to touch his face and beg for the promise that it's all okay. 

Is it though?

"I'm sorry. What I said- It came out wrong. I would never insult the life we've built, I-"

"You did though, Jay. You did insult it. You pissed all over it."

Jason winces at your bluntness, nearly an idiom, yet far from it. He focuses on your words, playing them over and over, watching your lips twist sardonically, building a wall around yourself. "It's fine, okay? I get it."

"No, you don't." He finds his voice, gruff with the nasty feeling building in his stomach, unable to be gentle in the wake of his own despondency. 

"Can we just go home? I don't want to have this conversation here."

Movements stilted, uncoordinated he moves to the abandoned shopping cart, hands wrapping around the handle in a white-knuckled grip. He takes two steps, yanks the cart back, and turns to you so abruptly that you nearly collide with his chest. 

"No. No, we are going to have this conversation now, otherwise you'll never have it. You know damn well I wasn't insulting you, or our home, or our life."

Blank-faced, eyes a hollow shade of their usual verdancy, you don't show any sign you really heard his words. 

He's never felt this before, desperate and shaky with wanting- no needing you to understand. Why does this feel so insurmountable? His hands land on your shoulders, large, hot, scarred, shaking just enough to inspire a rise out of you. 

You swat his hands away, fresh tears burning tracks down your face, humiliating, telling. "I care, okay! Damn you, Jason, I care!"

You suck in air too fast, choke on it, a strangled sob dancing on your lips, free falling. Hands useless on his chest, feigning a shove, curling in his soft tee shirt and pulling him closer. Tucked away in your little nook, no one is around, no one sees the mania tainting the air. Lovers begging forgiveness for the transgression of misunderstanding. 

He buries his face in your hair, hiding his face, hiding his relief at your touch, at your admission. "I care too. I care that I've tied you to this hell hole with almost no chance of getting out."

"You don't get it, do you?"

Jason can barely hear, your voice smothered by his chest, the fabric of his shirt, his hearing a bit unreliable from too many head wounds. "Get what?"

"I don't want more. I don't want... I don't know what you envision, but my happiness is this. Buying groceries with you and, and- Gotham. My happiness is fucking Gotham if I'm here with you. I don't need-"

"You deserve-"

"Do not interrupt me, Jason Todd!"

He recoils, stung, chastised, conceding quickly, lips pressed into a thin line. "Okay."

"I do not need anything more. I don't need a big house or a safer city to play in or whatever it is you think I ought to have. Deserve? I don't even know what that means. But I want you, and I'm content with this life. Until you start picking it apart and making it seem like it's not good enough for you. I cannot tolerate that. I won't." 

He waits, the silence stretching on and on, like the fraying string on a shirt that refuses to snap, until he is certain you're finished.

"You're right."

"That's all?"

"No. It's much more than that. But-"

He releases you, feeling your hands release his shirt slowly, confused as he steps back, raking his hands through his hair. 

"You asked me so nicely for flowers. Let's start again. And we can finish at home, like you asked."

You blink. Once, twice, three times, trying to process, waiting to see if any argument floats to the surface of thought, but none does. Nodding, you step to his side, following him quietly to the tables of flowers once more. 

It happens at the same moment, your eyes find the simple bunch of sunflowers and baby's breath the second his do. Understated and sweet, the type of flowers to catch your eye and hold it with a strange fascination. 

"These?" you ask, eyes never leaving the buds, fingers tentatively caressing the soft petals. 

"Yeah. I like those. They're pretty."

They are pretty. And suddenly, you need to see him, touch him. Placing the bouquet back you turn to him, cool hands pressed to his warm cheeks, eyes tracing soft lips, and the strong line of his nose. Those eyes that say secret things to you, things his lips could never speak. The panic and overwhelming nature of the trip are still fresh in your mind, but his eyes say he understands, his eyes reflect the same image as yours and it's less. Less upsetting, less frustrating, less misconstrued. 

"I get it too."

Your words soothe the cuts on his heart, shallow and stinging like paper cuts. His lips are on yours before he knows what's happening, no self-control left at this moment.

It's over too fast, a promise, a vow, an apology. You know; you feel it, trying to pass over all of your love in return. It's enough, more than enough because he smiles when he pulls away, kisses a trail up your nose to your forehead, and into your hairline. 

"I love you, Jay."

"I love you, Y/N."

Gotham isn't much, your apartment isn't much, and a single bouquet of flowers in your drab little living room is hardly anything at all. But it's plenty for you, plenty for Jason. It's enough. 

[lewkwoodnco]

Now That We Don't Talk - Lockwood x Reader

A/N: very very brief suicidal mention, sooooo much writer's block hhhh (the seasonal depression is depressing), (angst but diluted if that makes sense) add/remove yourself from my taglist in the link beloooow ALSO

🎄Special Announcement! I'll be doing a twelve days of Christmas fic series (1 songfic fic a day leading up to Christmas) BUT I will also be accepting extra holiday-themed requests (if any)!🎄

(speaking of the holidays, thinking of switching to a santa-themed george icon soon hmmm), wc 3.1k

Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 3.5 | Ch 4 | Ch 5

TAGLIST | MATERLIST

Moving had been a surprisingly smooth process that she remembered little of. She had to take care to not think too much about the ornaments she was packing or the boxes she was taping shut or the lonely town she was numbly driving towards, lest the rest of her catch up to the grief weighing her down. Her supervisor had looked plenty confused when she explained where she was transferring to, and muttered something about not knowing if there were any visitors there.

As steep as the change was from working in central London to a significantly sleepier town, she seemed to be adjusting fine. In fact, she was liking the peace and quiet. Or at least, she would, soon enough. She'd learn the right habits, like finding contentment in the stagnant void that descended on her windows far too quickly every evening, the same way she'd unlearn bad habits, like him. So no, her biggest problem was hardly the early sunsets here, but was actually what everyone wanted to talk to her about when she called. The one thing everyone - her old teammates, colleagues, friends - wanted to make sure she knew.

"The gala was fantastic this year - though not as fun without you, of course -"

"You'll never believe who showed up."

"He looked very sharp in his suit. He cleans up nice, I suppose - Anthony Lockwood, I mean."

"They've become quite the celebrities, that Lockwood & Co., though the other two don't seem to tolerate the cameras like he does."

"Oh, you should have seen it. Say what you will about Lockwood but does he know how to make an entrance!"

"Were you at the gala this year?"

She sighed for what must have been the fifth time that day. "No, Ted, I was not. You were at my farewell party, remember?"

"Tha' was for you?"

"Goodbye, Ted."

"Wait! You've seen the pictures, haven't you?"

"No, I haven't, because contrary to popular belief, I am not obsessed with evrything that goes on at Fittes."

"Well, we had a tiptop chocolate fountain this year. Didn't get clogged once and looked absolutely gorgeous. Anywho, I've recently stumbled upon this smashing business opportunity involving chocolate fountains - they're selling like hot cakes, I tell you! - and I'd love to spread the wealth."

"Theodore, you haven't joined another MLM, have you?"

"What is an MLM, other than an opportunity to invest in yourself?"

"Don't make me phone your mother."

The call ended rather abruptly after that. Only Lucy, as always, was an angel.

"I take it you've heard plenty about him?"

"Who? Oh, him. Yes, more than plenty."

"I thought you might. He has...quite the presence, so the papers wanted to interview him, and he agreed - "

" - obviously - "

"And I think they asked him about you at some point."

Her mouth dried. She struggled to find her voice, forcing it to stay casually disinterested. "Hm? What did he say?"

"Absolutely nothing. First and probably last time I've seen him stunned speechless. Naturally, it's all anyone can talk about."

"Mhm."

"He hasn't talked about you, if you're wondering. Sees it coming from a mile away every time George and I try to bring it up. It's so stupid; we know it, he knows it, and he's always in a foul mood. He keeps thinking, these days...Y/N?"

"I don't care."

"No one would blame you if you did."

"I don't."

"So how are you holding up?"

"Well, Luce, I felt happiness outside of external validation for the first time in...ever, then three months later I'm crying in my bathtub wishing I would die, and now I'm miles away from everyone I ever knew and it's always dark outside and I'm always miserable. I'm doing great."

She could hear the exhaustion in the crackling static of the telephone. It occurred to her that she wasn't much acting all that cheerful either.

"If it makes you feel any better, I think he half-expected to see you there."

She inhaled sharply and sat up in her armchair so fast she could feel a cramp curling in her neck. She didn't dare believe Lucy's words. "Really?" she wanted to breathe into the telephone, and revel in dormant delusions, if only for a moment. Instead, she gingerly sank back into the chair, continuing in a flat voice.

"Well, I don't care about any of that now. Oh, I'm sick of it. All of it. If I never hear his name again for as long as I live, it'll be still be too soon. How's George doing?"

After she hung up, she laid in her chair, watching the shadows from her shutters stretch and fold over her furniture as the sun set. She was thinking about the last party she had been to, a yacht party where some of Fittes' and Rotwell's biggest investors were in attendance. How Lockwood had managed to score an invite was beyond her, but what intrigued her more was the cab ride they shared back to Portland Row.

She had been half-dozing off when she felt a hand cover hers. As she blinked at him blearily, she noticed the rigid tension in his spine, as if poised and waiting for an attack. He was clutching her hand purposefully, as if holding off on warning her about something malevolent that was consuming him. She couldn't see his face, which began to feel no different from the cold, hard window pane it was peering out of.

She stirred, distantly unnerved by his impersonality. He glanced at her, apologetically retracting his hand with a sheepish smile. But that look of consternation remained on his face as he turned back to the window with a furrowed brow, with the air of waiting for something. He visibly relaxed as they approached Portland Row, but she couldn't shake off the uneasy feeling even by the time they reached the doorstep.

"You all right?" she was asking, while Lockwood fumbled with their keys.

"'Course. Why wouldn't I be?"

She didn't respond, and the two of them watched him wrench at the key in the lock, trying to steady his mildly trembling fingers.

"Key turns the other way."

He paused his efforts, and after a second or two turned the key the other way. The door slid open smoothly with a click. He held it open, but she just looked at him expectantly. He sighed.

"I'm fine, I promise. I just...get a little nervous around some parts of London."

"Which parts?"

"Some."

"Scared of what?"

"A few things."

"Why?"

"For fun. Look, I'm freezing out here. Can we just drop this?"

That was more than a mild exaggeration; the sun had only just set and the air was still pleasantly balmy. But he looked so beseechingly, and it didn't take much for her to relent when it came to Lockwood, so they stepped inside and shrugged their coats off in silence.

"I'll tell you some day. I'm sure I will."

That was some day too far away. Now she'll never know if, or why he ever felt like that. Or rather, she wouldn't know when he would feel like that. But it was no matter. It was none of her business then, and it was even less of her business now.

She had mostly forgotten about her conversation with Lucy by the following week, which was why her parcel came as a bit of a surprise, especially since she'd mentioned being swamped by a mountain of upcoming cases.

Y/N -

I was thinking about our call the other day. On a completely unrelated note, here's about every gossip rag from the past month I could find at Arif's.

Love, Lucy.

She was beginning to see what was so appealing about these magazines. As ruthless as they could be, they sure knew how to sell a pipe dream to common folk with less exciting lives. The gala was clearly as glitzy and glamorous as it was every year, and the articles held an air of intrigue now that she was quite separate from Fittes. But that quivering excitement became somewhat muffled as she flipped through the glossy pages.

The Anthony Lockwood she saw now looked worlds apart from the Lockwood she left behind. His well-fitting suit, megawatt smile and carefully styled hair made him look expensive in a way that destabilised her. She flipped through photograph after photograph of him looking jarringly luxurious besides walls of text effusing about the success of their latest case, and what an honour it must have been to be personally invited by Marissa Fittes herself. It weighed at the pit in her stomach to see this unfamiliar silhouette of a friend who was become increasingly unattainable, speeding along roads to prosperity faster than she could ever keep up with.

She sifted through the other rags. The most extensive feature was a few pages long, and was centered more on the exciting, up-and-coming agency that was Lockwood & Co. rather than a specific case. There were pictures from their most recent cases, and in each one he looked unnaturally distinct from the last, but in every single one he oozed an appealingly languid charisma. It was good to see him doing so well. She was happy for him. Or she would be, tomorrow, when she had the strength for it. Lockwood was unbearable in a way that made him perfect for a life in the public eye, a life for which she was somehow always deficient. She traced a too-long strand of hair flopped on his forehead in one of the photographs, as if she could magically straighten it out.

She could see him now, thumbing through the pages with an approving tilt to his head, limbs folded uncomfortably in the armchair he always insisted on sharing with her. "No such thing as bad press," he'd claim absent-mindedly, his too-long hair flopping impractically. And she'd watch him with bruised eyes like she always did, wishing for nothing more in that moment shared with him. In other words, wishing for nothing short of what she could never have.

Maybe it was some lingering wish to break herself before he beat her to it. Because that was all it was; dodging blows, lying through pretty teeth, racing ahead to pull one over on him, cursing the feel of his breath on her. There was simply no calm, no respite, only the all-consuming experience of becoming wrapped up in him and losing bits and pieces of herself which would never again be truly hers.

She picked up the telephone again. It felt too heavy in her hand. Numbly, she spun the dial as if on autopilot, keying in her mother's phone number. The dial tone comforted her in some twisted yet cathartic acknowledgement of the emptiness inside of her.

Looking at it now she could see the distinct air of mystery that engulfed Lockwood and clouded her vision. He was never quite fully present; a part of him was always tucked away to be kept secret in some dark corner, and her mind was only too happy to extrapolate, to construct this most desirable yet entirely mythical figment. She felt ragged, winded and worn from battling reality day after day, all alone. And most of all, she felt so very stupid.

Her mother was saying that she had made the right decision. Not that she needed any reminding. Of course her life had taken an upward swing ever since; she'd be a fool to think otherwise. She was positively paralysed with liberty, bedridden with joy, simply immobile with ecstasy!

She was slowly but surely going very insane. Now making eyes at each other, now disconnect, now love, now heartache, now this, now that, but never any peace. Maybe it was some lingering wish to shatter and let the pent up misery dissipate.

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

Months passed. The holiday season arrived, and she choked through the November blues with shivering bones and clammy hands. Even with the slight uptick in visitors, as was expected in the colder months, her life provided little to distract her from her own ghosts under the floorboards. So when she received a consultancy request from Fittes one morning, she had written back and mailed her response all while still holding the jam knife.

The train was crowded and noisy with the bustle of the holidays, but as it chugged along through the fields of snow, she couldn't help but perk up ever so slightly at every sigh and creak of its wheels. There was a spring in her step all the way to Fittes headquarters, where she was supposed to collect her apartment key.

A tall, indistinct figure was walking out of the revolving doors as she approached. She flinched when she realised who it was - Lockwood, who didn't seem much happier to see her either. He looked mostly well, though the corners of his mouth were a little strained, his face flushed in the cold.

"...Y/N?"

"Lockwood."

"You're...home?"

"Yeah. Um, how have you been?"

"Good...good. Busy. As busy as winter gets."

He was wearing a different coat. It was quite similar to his old one, but this one was thicker and more structured, and looked like it was at least somewhat effective in keeping the brisk winter wind out. He looked foreign and unfamiliar in a way he hadn't since...since the Investors Party.

It had taken her a while to pick his face out of the pretentious crowd, given how preoccupied she was with weaving through the thicket of people. It had taken her a eyes minute to adjust to the almost nauseatingly charismatic silhouette of an especially-chuffed Lockwood in a newly tailored but otherwise identical suit. She tried to give him a reproaching look, but there was something infectious in his smooth ease as he larked about in his prime which made her lips twitch despite herself as he waded through the crowds.

"You really shouldn't be here."

"You're clearly not drunk enough yet."

"How did you even get in? This is invitation-only."

"Had an invite, didn't I?"

She pursed her lips, shaking her head slightly. He was hopelessly incorrigible in an oddly fascinating way. Her voice dropped to a murmur as she felt herself begin to relent.

"I ought to...tell someone about you."

"That you're secretly in love with me?"

"That we have an illegal stowaway."

"You're not going to rat me out, are you?"

The pleading look on his face was enough to give her pause. She was already beginning to regret her decision, but he looked so vivacious it was difficult to stay disapproving for long.

"Excellent. Now, would you be so good as to point me in the direction of the bigger spenders?"

They spend the next few hours laughing and entertaining the many important men on the boat and their great deal of important thoughts. She'd excuse herself towards the end of every conversation to leave Lockwood and the glimmer in his eye to close a deal. For someone so adept at climbing the corporate ladder, she was surprisingly poor at fulfilling these adjacent duties.

She hated every second of it, and she drank as much as she could without raising eyebrows to make it all halfway palatable, but it was all worth it then. He had wanted to stay for as long as it would have been polite, so when they finally left, long after the media had made their rounds at the event, his jacket was folded over his left arm and his hand was delicately holding hers.

When she was stuck in her drafty cottage on the edge of nowhere, she'd think about the feel of his fingers curling around her palm more than it was appropriate, and wonder how she ever thought she was somehow better off here.

But that evening's sense of camraderie was long gone. Now, she regarded him coolly, holding him at arm's length. They may have had a rough falling out, but that didn't mean they couldn't still be friends. Just friends. Nothing more. But the vaguely intimate look in Lockwood's eye told her he was in no mood to entertain any kind of platonic notions.

"I didn't know you were back."

She relented. It was the season of giving, after all.

"Only for a while. Fittes hired me as a consultant for a few months."

He blinked at her. "You could have called."

"I didn't think you'd be interested."

"Of course I'd be interested. I'm always interested when it comes to you."

She sighed sharply. It was so easy to get swept up and believe him when he said things like that, that she wondered how she found the strength to leave. He was a bastard, a ne'er-do-well who only knew how to break her heart after promising sweet, simple luxuries in whispers over expanses of skin. She made her lips tremble, her pulse quicken, her heart shake in all the worst ways.

But underneath all that, love was there. Love was there...still.

"Ready to go?"

They turned in unison towards a strikingly beautiful girl with glossy raven curls walking out of the revolving doors. The girl's smile only slipped a fraction as she shook her hand, and she was distantly aware of making some kind of clumsy introduction. They stuttered through some stunted small talk, during which all she was aware of was the blood roaring in her ears that gave the whole scene a distantly muffled feel. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

"Well, this was...lovely. Shall we go, then?"

The girl turned to leave, but some semblance of hesitation prevented her from pulling Lockwood along with her.. His face still had that same confused look.

"You could have called," he repeated tonelessly, like a broken record. The girl's presence made the back of her neck smart and prickle uncomfortably.

"I might, later."

"Bye. Nice meeting you."

"Nice meeting you too."

"We're home all day."

The last one was from Lockwood.

"Just...if you want to drop by. So that Luce and George don't have my head on a platter by supper."

"Goodbye, Lockwood."

He was captivating in a way that made her want to keep him all to herself. No one needed to intrude on this tantalising secret they shared. It was at that moment that she made the very unfortunate realisation that she didn't need to say it out loud to make what she had been screaming from the rooftops of her heart any more real - him and her would forever be unfinished business.

And nothing she could do could make the palpitations of her heart any less real either.

As the life she once dreamed of walked away from her, all she was acutely aware of was that it was a lingering wish, some half-thought dream, to sit opposite him in a chilly kitchen on blustery mornings, watching him drink his tea while she got drunk on him.

TAGLIST: @novelizt @avdiobliss @dangelnleif @mischivana @mitskiswift99 @houseoftwistedspirits

[front-facing-pokemon]

Yes, Honedge!

Something i'd like to point out about its face:

It doesn't have a goofy face, the holes in the scabbard just make it look that way. In reality, it just has a single eye.

With that in mind, could you please do a version without the scabbard?

iiii figured this was common knowledge enough to not warrant an additional form, but alright:

some of the guard disappeared but it's okay. i never even saw that part of the scabbard as a face—the blue eye is very obviously an eye. i don't know if anyone actually thought that was its face. however, i do find it interesting that even after removing the scabbard textures, it still has textures for that "face" remaining:

which implies it's a face more than anything i've seen of the matter before this point

anyway there's so many asks in the box right now so let's just go through all of them:

in order from oldest to newest, here we go:

this is true. most of the models are shiny, unless they have a "colladamax" variant

ahh it's fine. i considered it might have been a request but i also doubted it considering pangoro was literally next so i assumed you were just excited. me complaining about requests was unrelated—another ask i got around the same time

well then maybe it's not a bad thing. you certainly phrased it like one, it seems, but that might just be unfortunate connotations with the way you said it? glad we could clear up the confusion i guess

we do need more snakes, but i also like the bipedal pokémon, as a furry. back when everyone was begging sprigatito not to stand up, i saw through their thinly-veiled furry hate and was begging sprigatito to go against the grain and stand up anyway. and then they did and now meowscarada is one of my favorite pokémon. get fucked, normies (i am sorry for saying this)

↑ i didn't know this until i looked it up! this is interesting. stuff like the male version learning misty terrain but the female version learning more type coverage. this is very strange but i like it. only girls can use magical leaf and charge beam sorry boys

thank you! i can explain it. it is because pokémon are getting very close and staring at you as for the inspiration for this blog, it was mostly snivy. i remember one day thinking that snivy's big nose would make it look very silly from the front, and being like "damn. someone should compile a list of what every pokémon looks like from the front. damn. that would make a good tumblr blog bc some of those would be really funny. damn. i should do that" and then i did. but that was back in 2020—pretty soon after i ended up starting college which didn't allot me a lot of time for updating this blog, and although i kept swearing i'd go back, somewhat soon after that i went through a breakup and just wanted to take a while for myself. a bit after that, tumblr user sewatari reblogged one of the posts on this blog again (the weedle post, i believe?) and singlehandedly revived this blog by reminding me that they still cared about it. and that's fucking awesome?? tbh?? so thank them for this blog's continued existence. if you scroll waaaayyyy back far enough in the archive, you'll probably see that miniature saga. the images back from the first gen and onwards were a little bit icky as i got grips on how to actually go about this blog and manipulate the models in the right way to get them to work, which is why i can never really recommend folks scroll all the way back in the blog, but it's a look back into my own personal history, i suppose

apologies for breaking the magic, although i don't think anyone keeps up with the "i am a pokémon taking real live pictures of other pokémon with the camera right in their face" lore because no one pays attention to the backgrounds of the images (which used to change much more than they do now, but that's just because no one ever noticed or pointed them out. the background is not the focus of the image—it's the pokémon itself; thus, why look at the background? staging the pokémon in a setting used to be important to me, but now i don't worry about it and cycle between the same few backgrounds) or the asks, really. it's the commentary in the tags everyone comes here for, of course

she's a fully-grown woman with a house

then you'll love the top of this post

they probably wouldn't think it looks like anything because they aren't familiar with what honedge looks like so they would just picture nothing in their head. or they would just make up what they Think honedge might look like based on its name, or something, and then imagine that front-facing

i don't know which one of these is the real one. but we have some discrepancy here. also apparently this is a wider-spread belief than i thought

OKAY. i think that's all of them. if you read all the way here to the end, that's. powerful. for those of you who stuck around this long, i'm live right now with a test stream having some breakfast and playing pokémon. come join in, if you're bored this morning!

edit: it's over but i'll probably do it again some time, more likely at a more reasonable hour next time. considering the idea of doing a fully voiced pmd series—perhaps that'll be the next stream. or i'll leave another test one for it. who knows!

[gliyerabaa]

Hello. I was wondering if you would spare me some thoughts about Fanfiction writing techniques you have. Thank you :)

Oh wow, I've never been asked to give writing advice before....

Ultimately everyone's writing style and writing process varies but here are some of the most important things I've learned in the years of writing fanfic.

Write down EVERYTHING. Every idea you have. Even the "dumb" ones. Even the borderline-nonsensical ones. Even if the idea is not enough to become a fic in and of itself, it can serve as inspiration for other things further down the line. (this also ties into my other rules KEEP EVERYTHING and DON'T BE AFRAID TO SUCK)

KEEP EVERYTHING. Like rule 1, keep every idea you have. You never know when it might come in handy. Also, keep the works you publish on Ao3. If, in the future, you want to remove your connection from a fic, please orphan it instead of deleting it. It's important to keep fanworks available for all, even if their author is no longer associated with it.

DON'T BE AFRAID TO SUCK. Think of your writing ability as a muscle. You wouldn't go to the gym and expect to lift 200 pounds on your very first day. Similarly, you can't expect to write flawlessly and perfectly on your first try. Keep working at it, and over the years you WILL notice improvement.

Find a writing buddy or two. This person doesn't necessarily have to be a formal beta reader or anything, but can be someone you bounce ideas off of, or someone who can generally hype you up. (mega huge shoutout to @a-fast-rebloger for being my writing buddy as of late). Writing is a deeply personal process but honestly if you try to go it alone, you'll wind up losing your mind. A lot of times, when you are writing and editing your own work, you start to find it less impressive. A second set of eyes, whether as a friend or a formal editor or both, can do wonders for self-esteem and motivation when writing.

Remember the Cakes. There's a popular comic that goes around every now and then

The above comic is the beginning of what I talk about in my mind as "The Cake Analogy". If you write a 500 word oneshot and try to compare yourself to someone's 150k multichapter epic, you may feel like the artist in the first panel. But remember, from the audience perspective, we're all just here to eat cake! Another part of the cake analogy... Sometimes I get too worried about characterization or dynamics in my writing. I worry "what if this isn't a believable interaction" or "what if this dialogue sounds stupid" but then I remember I am making a cake to bring to the cake party where people go specifically to eat cake. I am not going to have to convince anyone to eat my cake, because that is what they came here to eat!

Write for YOURSELF. Ultimately, what you write should bring you joy! Yes, you are writing and posting and sharing your creation with others but ultimately this should be for YOU.

I hope this was decent advice! Feel free to ask for more writing tips anytime :)

[pinkthick]

REQUEST ARE OPEN

You can choose from down below any prompt/prompts you want with the following characters:

✩ Stephen Strange

✩ Defender Strange

✩ Sinister Strange

✩ Doctor Strange Supreme(What if?)

✩ Supreme Strange

✩ Monster(from vampires to werewolves lmao) Stephen Strange

✩ Sherlock Holmes

The fanfictions won’t be really long (1500 max ig?) and they would probably be Fem!Reader (I could try with gn!reader too). Choose a sentence/sentences from down below and you can give your own ideas too.

I will be going on a trip so they probably won’t be posted this week(bear with me please).🙏

Prompts

✩ Angst

1. ”Is everything a joke to you?"

2. "It's my fault, I didn't listen to everyone saying this would be a mistake!"

3. "Why does everything have to be a struggle with you?"

4. "I can't believe you sometimes!"

5. “Great. Really great, this is just perfect.”

6. "Why can't you just let it go?"

7. "That is the dumbest excuse I have ever heard!"

8. "Maybe you should just leave now."

9. "Oh yes, you're so great.”

10. "I really don't understand what's going on with you sometimes!"

11. "I will leave now, or I'm going to say things I will regret later.”

12. "Have you never actually thought about how I would feel about this?"

13. "Maybe this is it, because I can't do this anymore!"

14. "Don't you dare just walk away right now!”

15. "This wouldn't even be a problem, if you wouldn't make one out of it."

16. "How does that make it okay?"

17. "Do you even listen to yourself?"

18. "I'm glad I finally get to see who you really are.”

19. "Hey, hey, it's okay. Breathe."

✩ Fluff

1. "I thought you left" "Nope, just making pancakes"

2. "I never want to let you go.”

3. "I can't believe you remembered that" "I remember everything about you"

4. "I'm so proud of you"

5. "Did you just call me sweetheart?"

6. "Take my affection before I choke you with it"

7. "Is it okay if I fall asleep here?"

8. "I can keep you company till you fall asleep"

9. "I can't imagine my life without you"

10. "You complete me"

11. "I'm counting down the days until I see you"

12. "I love your apartment" "Our apartment"

13. "Sorry for borrowing your clothes" "Dont be. You look great in them"

14. "One more kiss?"

15. "I'm so glad I met you"

16. "Can I try some of your food?" "Of course. Open wide"

17. "Thanks for believing in me"

✩ Horror(?)

1. "I want to know how you'll taste between my teeth."

2. "I can never get enough of you. I'll drink you down to the last sip."

3. "You look delicious. I won't stop until I've eaten every bite.”

4. “I'm going to engrave myself into your very being.”

5. "We won't stop until you're so covered in my scent, no one will dare touch you again.”

6. "Don't play with fire if you don't want to burn.”

7. "Don't complain now you did this to yourself.”

8. "You reap what you sow."

9. “This hurts me more than it hurts you.”

10. "Why are you acting like you don't know me?”

11. "Why are you running? I did this for you!"

12. “You don't need a job, baby. Your job is being mine.”

13. "You're better off without them anyway.”

14. “I removed the problem. You should be thanking me.”

15. “I would never hurt you. You know that, right?”

16. "Why are you scared?”

17. "You're the only reason worth living for.”

18. "Why would you want to leave? I'm keeping you here for your own good!”

19. "There's nothing left for you but me. Everyone else is gone."

20. "No one will ever find you here."

21. “If his filthy hands touch you again I'll kill him.”

22. "Shouldn't you be spending more time with me?”

23. "I can't control how I react when your eyes wander.”

24. “The truth would have just hurt you.”

25. "I'm not lying - I bent the truth a little to protect you."

26. "Don't you believe me?”

27. "I've done everything for you and this is how you repay me?”

28. "I can't eat, I can't sleep. You're all I can think about.”

29. "To my dying breath, I'll never let you go."

30. "I'll follow you to the ends of the earth. No matter where you run, I'll catch you.”

31. "Did you really think I wouldn't find you?”

Credits for the prompts @diety-prompts, @writeformesinpie and @creativepromptsforwriting

[hymemena]

100 Gecs (2023 Album) 10,000 Gecs Sentence Starters

Feel free to change pronouns as necessary, and remember to specify muse for multimuse blogs.

CW: Drug use, drugs, death, religious themes, smoking, mental health, food, sensory problems, guns, weapons, threats, death threats, stalking, murder, abuse, injury, violence, insomnia, cursing

—

Dumbest Girl Alive

"If you think I'm stupid now, you should see me when I'm high."

"I'm smarter than I look."

"I'm the dumbest girl alive."

"Never ask me what I think."

"Money coming from my eyes."

"I'm so happy I could die!"

"Put emojis on my grave."

"Yeah, I'll fuckin' text you back."

757

"Yeah, I'll never go to Heaven."

"I've been smokin' since eleven."

"I got problems with my spending."

"Doing eight in a thirty."

"I'm never in a hurry."

"Everybody wanna party!"

"Wish that I was more discerning."

"Where's the water?"

"Today I'm feeling pitiful."

"I'm taking things too literal when it was hypothetical."

"Now, I'm whining over nothing."

Hollywood Baby

"What you crying about, Baby?"

"Did you get the payment?"

"We had an arrangement."

"Do you wanna party?"

"So go pitch your fit, no one gives a shit."

"I'm going crazy."

"Do you buckle under pressure?"

"You'll never make it in Hollywood, Baby."

Frog On The Floor

"Where'd he come from?"

"Nobody knows."

"He's been chillin' in the basement for a minute."

"It's time we move into the kitchen."

"Make him feel safe."

"Frog on the floor."

"Hey, yeah, I heard you met my friend the other weekend."

"He got on his front legs and did a keg stand."

"The party got real."

"He was chasing flies around."

"Give him some space, he's still workin' it out."

"He doesn't know what people think about."

"He gets the party jumping."

Doritos & Fritos

"Okay, I went to France."

"I went to Greece to get something to eat."

"I'm hard to please."

"Okay, I saw the beach."

"It's one hundred degrees."

"I'll swim in the ocean."

"The TV's tuned to cable."

"I'm sleeping when I'm able."

"The TV's on so loud it hurts my brain."

"I'm eating burritos."

"Jeez Louise, I'm weak in the knees."

"I'm joining the circus."

"I'm lying to strangers."

"I'm looking for danger!"

Billy Knows Jamie

"-Muse- got a gun."

"-Muse-'s gonna kill me, think I need to run."

"-Muse- is kinda scary when he's lookin' at you."

"Run!"

"I've heard it all before."

"He's like a movie star."

"They say he's so deranged."

"Bought mace to keep me safe."

"It's not enough to stay away."

"He knows my house and he knows my name."

"I'm in the closet scared."

"He's kicking down the door."

One Million Dollars

"One million dollars."

"I'm a marijuana addict."

"Fuck you!"

The Most Wanted Person In The United States

"I turned on the news."

"I turned on the news and it said that I was the number one most wanted person in the United States."

"Yeah, I'm a real killer."

"I just killed -muse- and then I ate his dinner."

"I took his car."

"I took his car and I crashed it in the river."

"I was born in the winter."

"Hot like the summer."

"Don't cry to me."

"Don't cry to me, I'm not your mother."

"Everybody shuts the fuck up when I'm passing."

"I'm laughing 'cause shit's so funny."

"Oh, is it hot like that?"

"Yeah, it's hot like that."

"Don't need to ask me."

I Got My Tooth Removed

"You were tough."

"You were unforgiving."

"Made me cry all the time."

"You were mean, such an asshole."

"I had to say goodbye."

"I don't wanna talk about it ever again."

"My head's like a ton of bricks."

"This dumb bitch still learns new tricks."

"I woke up and was down horrendous."

"I think I need to see a dentist."

"Praying to a fuckin' God I'll never be."

"If it's gonna fix itself, I guess it's just as well."

"It doesn't hurt me every day so I just let it get away."

"I'll deal with it another day."

"I guess that day just never came."

"I don't know what to do."

"My cheek swelled up twice its size."

"Playing Operation with a safety pin."

"Looking up home remedies."

"I'm staring at the ceiling, counting seconds 'til I get to sleep."

"That shit didn't work."

"I promised you, honest, tried my hardest."

mememe

"Back once again."

"You'll never really know."

"You'll never really know anything about me."

"No, you'll never really know anything."

"When we were together I tried to tell you."

"I used to tap dance when I was in choir."

"I broke my arm when my -parent- crashed a go-kart."

"I tried on your lipstick, I thought I looked pretty."

"You're always so busy."

"You're always so busy so you never hear me."

"Do I sound like a joke when I'm talking to you?"

"I take it back."

"You say so many things."

"I'll laugh too fucking hard."

"You probably think I'm so mean."

"I don't even know you."

"I guess it's such an easy game."

"Could you explain it all away?"

"OK, bet, I forget."

"I don't think I'll pretend it's cool."

[wench-and-jezebel]

The Musketeers Reaction: The Exiles

Jezebel (@typicalopposite) reacts [with occasional asides by Wench (@scripted-downfall)]

Sheep

[Bebby]

“Don’t get…” Buddy.  You.  Have.  No.  Right.  T- Actually neither of them do.  WHY WERE THEY CHOSEN FOR THIS?  [*simultaneously*  "Don't get involved"  Aramis, you're one to talk]

That… Looked sus

Bby!!

PRIEST BE DED

HOW  [?]  IS THAT BABY IN THAT THING?  [There are straps or something; don't question it]  That’s so unsafe!  The mom in me is like HOW TF!  Ack!

[Legitimately, though, why did they have d'Art and Aramis teaming up and think this a good idea]

Welp… they left the wrong one with her [alsdkfj True]  He just gonna replace the baby  [ALKDSFJ]

[Sir, she was by a grave; where do you think hubby be?]

If Flirt removes and puts this hat back on one more time ☠️☠️ I know why he’s doing it but ☠️

[Dude.  Athos should have had a hawk.  Is it at all in his character?  Nah, not really.  But it'd be cool.]

All I heard from Louis was whine whine whine… whine whine

[asdfasdf We've found the two competent members of les Inseparables]  ☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️

Whine.  Whine.  Whineeeee.  [I recognize that he's not actually being unreasonable here but he's very whiny.  I guess he could rescind his own ruling maybe?  idk for sure.  But like... she really did commit a rather serious crime]  I just 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨  This man.  

["Decapitating one's mother is rarely popular with the people sire - it always looks a touch ungrateful."  I love the Cardinal's sarcasm ngl]  ☠️☠️☠️☠️ Very true

Poor baby!  I’d be crying too.  He’s like WTF IS WRONG WITH YOU MAN.  And getting flip flopped all around

Do they think she’s a witch?  [I don't actually remember]

Bbys like OH GOD WHY D’ART I’m screwed

Athos got them crazy eyes now

You just wanted to kill your mother???

Oooop y’all don’t be looking at each other  [Another instance of Treville and the Cardinal being on the same page btw]

Wot.  The.  Fuck.  This man?!!??!  [Louis is… a character]

Buddy you think your cape is big enough?  [Nope… You know what they say about men with big capes-]  ☠️☠️☠️☠️

["Aramis and d'Artagnan aren't back yet"  No shit, you paired those two together… The mission went to shit the second those orders were given]  ☠️☠️☠️☠️ Then again… Had he sent Porthos with Aramis…. They would have never arrived at all  [Ah, then you've come to the (correct) conclusion that Athos has the braincell; I've taught you well]  😂😂😂😂  And he needed the brain cell with him guarding the king. Alas his hands were tied

Oooohhhhh poor bby king… Don’t cry… Uuuuwuuuuwuuuuu  [It must be said... I do like the actor who plays Louis.  He does a good job at being... this]  He does!

It’s very obvious she’s faking  [Ma’am is manipulative af]

[Ma'am.  Treason is not a "misjudgement" most of the time]  ☠️☠️☠️☠️

Ma’am why does dart need to be joined?  [*simultaneously* "I'll go and join d'Artagnan"  I'm not surprised, dearie]  You!  Are married!

[Good news... Aramis knows ways of healing wounds *cough cough*]  ☠️☠️☠️☠️

Have you, Flirt? Have you?

I thought they were gonna kiss I was like oooop

She looks like the queen of hearts in the live action Alice

Beauty and the beast 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

[Wait.  Hold up.  Oh shit.  Huh]  Wait Wot? Lol  [Nothing]

Well shit… Flirt, stop talking

That’s so fecking sad omg ack

[Whoa, there, d'Art]  ☠️☠️

☠️☠️ [THE SIDEGLANCE]  I knowwww  ["You'll have children of your own someday"  "If it's meant to be *stares at d'Art*"]  Lol

Poor Constance  [She's gone from running the risk of dishonoring herself because d'Artagnan asked her to in Athos's name to running the risk of dishonoring herself because d'Artagnan asked her to]

– – – 

Jezebel: I honestly don’t know how Aramis can breathe… Buddy has shoved his foot so far down his throat this episode 😂😂

Wench: asldkfjalkdsfj it's true

Jezebel: And the king! I just can’t get over how childish he is! 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨 poor Anne I could never live in an arranged marriage! (That’s what these like always are right?)

Wench: This was def an arranged marriage, yes.  As part of an alliance between France and Spain

Jezebel: Ohhh! 🙂 Then you got the queen of hearts being sneaky and conniving! And Athos being the only one with sense!

Wench: Oi, Porthos hasn't done much, but he's still not lacking sense!  It's only when Aramis is there that trouble ensues

Jezebel: Very true!  I swear: you got the brains, the brawn, the beauty, and d’Art

Wench: asdkfhjaslkdfj  Also known by their alternative titles: the traumatized, the traumatized, the traumatized, and, oh, yeah, the traumatized

Jezebel: ☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️  And these are the famous musketeers whose story has been told for centuries (?)

Wench:  I mean.  Yes

Jezebel: The ? Was because I wasn’t sure when the book came out ☠️☠️

Wench: I know al;ksdjf

Jezebel: Honestly?  I love it

Wench: Though, again... d'Art was a great deal less traumatized in the book.  And I don't remember Savoy being a thing for Aramis either.  idk... it's been a bit since I read, but I only really remember book!Athos having a Traumatic Backstory alksdjf

Jezebel: So trauma, poverty, religion, and…. And d’Art.

Wench: Well, again, I'm not sure about the poverty even.  For Porthos, I mean.  I don’t remember it being a big part of the book, aside from the fact that he’s described (iirc) as marrying well, and that’s why he has a title.

Jezebel: Unless it’s just the show that has Port come fro- Yeah, that!

Wench: I don't know for sure… I need to reread 😭  The Wikipedia article seems to agree with me (picture not included)

Jezebel: Oh, so brawn works! And ☹️☹️ He dies?

Wench: Not in the first book… I told you this; he dies in Man in the Iron Mask

Jezebel: The book one tho right?

Wench: Yes.  Ma'am, I've said this like three times 😭  I knew you never listened to me (aff)

Jezebel: ‘Cause in the movie it’s d’Art. Is he the king’s father in the book?

Wench: No

Jezebel: Also… Ma’am.  Memory is shit you know this

Wench: HMPH.

– – –

Oh my gawd!  She’s behind thieving the bby!

[Our wish, their command; Porthos returns to the front lines :)]  ☠️☠️☠️☠️  [Y'all, why are you walking that closely.  You're Asking to get seen]  ☠️☠️☠️☠️  [Athos is back too]

Ooooop.  OOPPPPP!  OHHHHHHHHH PHILLIPE!  [Now you see the cause for the earlier “Wait.  Hold up.  Oh shit.  Huh.”  NOW DO YOU SEE]  I seee!  Le gasp!  OH MAH GAWDDDD

Shit, this baby is the prince

Oooooop she ain’t nothing in there

“He folds”  [Athos, I love you]  

[Constance, my beloved]   Lord… Flirt’s gonna be getting heart eyes for the married lady d’Art’s got heart eyes for

Isss not all about looks flirt

*Sigh*  He’s about to his thigh now. He’s going to have eaten himself by the end

🙂 I like him.  I see what he did there  [This has the same vibe as "just so you know why I can't help"]  It does!!

[I love that Athos knows what happened within one second alskdjf]  😂😂😂

Lady… Don’t be stupid

[Off-topic, but… The temptation to write a Musketeers/Firefly fic is strong with this one]  👀👀👀👀  [I still don’t know firefly but I’m listening]

Maaam!  The king is more a child than the baby!

[Also, Aramis... spare nothing why don't you.  Like... she needs to hear it but also.  Tact?]  He’s definitely eaten his torso by now

Well, the red queen is back  [Do.  Do you mean Helena Bonham Carter]  The character is who she looks like with that hairdo

Wah wah wahhhh  ["Being king can be so boring"  I promise you wouldn't want to be a subject either.  Also "It's so unfair!'  Bitch, you have soooo much privilege.  It's literally not even funny]  ☠️☠️☠️☠️ I can’t even with him!

["No, no, let's keep it suicidal"]  😂😂😂😂  [Did you expect any less from Athos?  I mean... buddy's a bit.  Self-care-less]  Very true

[I mean.  She makes a good point]  True ☠️☠️☠️☠️

Henry, Louis, Phillip… Do the people back then know there were other boys names 😮‍💨  [Ma'am, they're French: Henri.  Louis.  Phillipe.  But also… No]

“These barrels contain brandy. A rather good Armagnac, I believe.”  “Athos, now is not the time.”  AND THEN THE LOOK]  ☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️  I LOVE IT

SIR!  [YOU ALWAYS LACK FAITH]  I KNOW ITS FAKE WOMAN BUT YOU COULD HAVE WARNED HER [OH]

BRUH How can she be like this about her kid?!!?  Damn.  Like, he’s whiny but I feel bad for him.

Is she…. Is she good?  [WHY WOULD YOU POSSIBLY THINK HER GOOD?]  I meant the little moan thing she did

Well shit… Poor priest 

Damn

Aight, Flirt pulled himself back out to like the ankle.

She’s like nah, I was thinking this man’s a fucking idiot

– – – 

Jezebel: That didn’t feel like it was long enough to be a whole episode I have been robbed

Wench: lkasjfdlksajdf  I'd say do another but it's the time of night where you usually abandon me, so... 'sigh'  Although... next ep is rather a good one.  Deserves focus.  (aka: it’s Athos-centric)

Jezebel: I can’t stay up past midnight again I’m dying in the mornings lol 😂😂😂😂 If it was the weekend I 100% would 😭 cause I’m loving this show sm!

Wench: Hmph.  Shoulda known... you just like me for my shows

Jezebel: LIESSSS

Wench: Mmmhmmmmm… Do endpoint, problem child

Jezebel: This was so fucking sad omg!!!!  This is not what I wanted when I said I was curious if Phillipe was in the show

Wench: I didn't even connect the two last time, if it makes you feel better.  I also didn't connect Savoy to all the dead Musketeers in episode 1 until this go-round.  Or how this episode must have been painful given the similarities to Milady.   I hadn’t seen Man in the Iron Mask (or read the book) in any close proximity last time I watched this

Jezebel: I thought of it when I heard the name but again that was a very common used name ☠️😂  Wait, Savoy was mentioned in the first episode?

Wench: No, but it had the ambush wherein the Musketeers were attacked for the letter they carried as a means of setting up Athos' frame-job.   And it was very similar to the story we hear in ep4 about Savoy.  Thus, that was likely even more unfortunate for Aramis than we knew.  I think there was even snow on the ground

Jezebel: Ooooooh!  And as for the Milady thing… What do you mean?

Wench: Technically it was the King’s duty to execute his mother — largely because he’d made that ruling in the past, to be fair, so he could just revoke it as he did in the show (but no one said Athos POV parallels had to be fair/accurate) — and he didn’t; thus, what does it say about the character of a man who went ahead with it when even Louis didn’t.

Jezebel: 💔💔💔💔💔💔💔 Well! Damn! That’s more pain than I originally thought it would be! Ack! Now I’m hurt! 😤😤 rude. 

Wench: You're welcome!

Jezebel: bUt yoUr NoT eViLlllll.

Wench: I'm nottttt

Jezebel: Anyway! 😤😮‍💨 This poor woman… Fell in love with a man who was a good person but shunned for his appearance, watched him die, saw her baby kidnapped, finds out he is actually the rightful king only to have that idea squashed because royals are actually quite evil, tries to escape just for her baby to be yeeted into a river…. I mean at least he is alive and they got away but I’m sure she probably has mentally lost like ten years of life from that

Wench: And she had to deal with Aramis for three days

Jezebel: Very true… how this man gets all the ladies is beyond me. He is 😮‍💨😮‍💨 an idiot

Wench: You... you ain't seen nothing yet.  Suffice to say that Athos' statement from the first episode --- "Tell me he's not that stupid," immediately followed by him being, yes, that stupid --- is highly accurate as a personality guide

Jezebel: 😂😂😂😂😂  And I say this as affectionately as possible as he is still my favorite. But he is still an idiot

Wench: Naturally... I like him too :)  My ranking, btw?  Athos = high favorite, Portamis = tied for high second, d'Art... somewhere in a distant third.  (Sorry to d'Art fans… I don't dislike him though.  He's just.  Not a fave)

Jezebel: I read portamis as just Porthos and was like you like dart more than flirt for shameeeee!  But, see, what has happened is this show has taken Dean and split him into two characters

Wench: Tbf, the flirty part of Dean was never one of my favorites.  Like, nothing against that side of him, but it's not what endeared him to me.  Thus, I'm not surprised that I didn't hyperfixate over Aramis despite that as a commonality

Jezebel: Very fair 😂 I think for me it’s more the goofiness that I’m liking but the flirting is cute

Wench: The goofiness is also not one of my favorite traits, so... the point stands.  Like.  I appreciate it in both.  But it's not fixation-worthy

Jezebel: Does. Does this make Cas port and Sam Dart ☠️☠️

Wench: You do realize that not every ship is Destiel-coded

Jezebel: It was a joke ☠️☠️☠️ 

Wench: I know.  As was mine  

(EDIT: We’re accidentally paralleling the scene from this episode… “You do realize that not every ship is Destiel-coded” = “These barrels contain brandy; “It was a joke ☠️☠️☠️” = “Now is not the time”; “As was mine” = Athos’ Look)

Jezebel: But also no I don’t I will spread my Destiel fixation to every fandom I want thank you very much.  (Idk why but the image that went through my head was coloring pictures of the other fandoms with a dual color green and blue crayon… It’s late.  I’m feeling it)

Wench: Weak

Jezebel: It’s true.  It’s what happens when you get old

Wench: False

Jezebel: 😊  Anyway… am I missing anything?

Wench: Not that I can see

Jezebel: Goood! Well Athos ep tomorrow!?

Wench: That works

Jezebel: Perfect… ‘til then!

[eliink]

𝒂𝒍𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝑨𝒖𝒈𝒖𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒆, 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑩𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒚 

Taylor is right: "I'm the girl before the one. I'm not the one. I'm the girl you think is the one for you, and when it doesn't work out with me, you meet the next girl and realize that she is the one, the one you are going to stay with." This line is so me; I think people use me for their character development, and when they get matured, they just leave me like an old cardigan on their bed. I will always be part of "August’s girls club," the one they wanted to but never pursued, the one who's not worth the risk because she can't take the risk either and stop herself from falling in love. The one who's always the second option—or should I say last option. Spending all her years loving herself but doesn't know her own worth.

People praise me for being independent—a dgaf girl boss—but I also need someone to rely on. I need someone to be dependent on and understand me. I'm tired of loving myself and being the only one who loves myself. I've been pouring all my love into myself these past 20 years.

It has been tattooed on my mind that if you are nice, funny, open, and honest to the person you've been talking to, it'll last. I mess it up every time; I get too close and comfortable with them. I don’t know what to do anymore. I hate being attached because I've been thinking about him for the past few hours, but the question is, does he think about me too? Love will always be complicated, and no one will ever define what love really is. I did everything to be loved by someone, but I always failed. I'm tired of putting in the effort. I hate making plans with the people I meet online because I know for a fact that they're equally likely to happen. Why can't they choose me? Am I not enough? I'm pretty, smart, fun, and caring—isn't that enough? Should I remove one of my traits? Am I too perfect? Is there something lacking in me? I need someone to tell me what to do because I'm out of ideas of what to do anymore. Yes, I tried anyways; when will it ever be my turn?

I'm tired of always making the first move. I confessed my feelings to Ronan, whom I had a crush on happily for five years, and Lance, but they both seemed clueless. They gave me mixed signals and made me overthink everything, but I'm glad I've stopped liking them. Why can't men just be honest? You'll hurt our feelings either way, so it's much better to tell the truth than to sugarcoat it, leaving us questioning what we did wrong.

I hate making the first move because it boosts their ego and makes them think they can get any girl they want. I know they didn't like me at first, but I kept forcing myself to be liked by them. They admire themselves because somehow a girl finds them attractive, even if in reality, they have the worst personality.

I'm never going to confess to anyone anymore; I'm tired. If you really like me, prove it through your actions and pursue me. Is it that hard? Or just leave me alone and don't give me mixed signals. If you think my liking you is bad, then tell me directly to my face. Otherwise, I might confess to someone who truly deserves it. I don’t care if I get rejected; at least I'll have tried and communicated how I feel.

I hate being just friends. I remember one of my friends telling me that those guys don't want to pursue me because I'm better suited as their girl best friend. They never imagined having a romantic relationship with me—just friends because they know I can free my time to talk to them, especially when they're going through tough times, because I care too much. They like you as a friend, they want you to stay as a friend. They're only doing this because you're a great and caring friend. So what now?

[unhingedselfships]

"Hey Kenshi, would it be ok if I stayed for a few weeks?"

What a silly question. Didn't she do that anyway?

"I know I don't usually ask but I don't want to be in the way. I won't ask you to haul me all over, I'll sort out my own transport. I don't want to bother you. I'll be coming and going a lot but I promise not to be underfoot."

"Yes of course. Now what did you do."

His demand-question made her smile, as most of his charming little speech quirks did.

"Hey! Why do you assume I did anything! All I did was research. Tokyo has several but the specialists I liked are all up in your direction and- look it's fine ok? Don't worry about it. I just don't want to be inconvenient. Usually when I visit it's about you but I'm gonna be kinda busy so. Yeah."

He was quick to respond, "Ah, I see. What kind of specialist are we talking here? Medical? Some more of your weird kink stuff? Help me out here. Do I need to be worried?"

There was a pause on the line, heavy, "Oh. Um. Not that worried? I mean, everyone else in the family has been fine. The biopsy came back… not great, but. It shouldn't be an issue. Really, it's fine. I'll be fine. It's just- look it's nothing to worry about ok?"

Her tone was off, and he could hear it. Had been hearing it for years. He knew her. She'd been trying to keep calm, but the edge of fear, panic, was there. Buried, for everyone else, but clawing its way up her throat.

He couldn't decide if he liked that she instinctively felt safe enough with him to let it loose or not. 

He tried very hard to pretend like it wasn't hitting him just as hard. Biopsy? For what? What was going on?

"I know it's nothing. It'll be fine. Everyone else has been fine. They just wanna be sure right? Better to catch it early. But it's fine! Shouldn't even need any of the rougher treatments. A quick removal and it's all gone and everything is fine."

She was getting herself wound up.

"I mean, everyone here has said it's fine. They're just being careful. I'm sure it'll be the same there, right? I'm just being paranoid. I always do this, worry way too much over nothing. I meant to call you sooner, I really did, but it was so minor and I didn't think anything of it but then it wasn't, I mean, it still is! Just- Sorry. Can I stay?"

He cut her off, tone sharp. Agitated.

"Well Kimberly, I don't really like having you around so no, you can't—oh wait, I just remembered that I've never given you ANY cause to think it wouldn't be okay for you to stay here for ANY reason. Tell me, are you trying on purpose to make me worry that I've somehow made you feel unwelcome?"

Her breath hitched and she stuttered for a moment.

"Well no I just- I- Sorry. I'm just. Flustered, I guess. I don't want- Usually I just stay, I mean we go out, but. I'm probably gonna be all over the place, and pretty poor company I don't. Want to annoy you?"

His voice was flat.

"If you'll have time to bake at least one batch of pastries I'll consider that adequate recompense for all the inconvenience and annoyance."

Kimi sighed, tired relief. She’d had so much on her plate, and gotten into her own head.

"I think I can probably do that. I'm sorry Kenshi. It's just. A lot. And I was trying to handle it all on my own. I should know better than that by now."

The man breathed out slowly.

"Yes. You should," the pause was icy, she knew she’d irritated him, "Now when am I sending a car to the airport for you?"

She hesitated.

"When is least inconvenient for you? I- was waiting to talk to you before I booked anything."

He’d have smiled fondly at her waffling had it not been for the circumstance.

"Kimi if it's inconvenient to me I'll just send a driver rather than going in person. I really promise the world will not end if you just pick a time that works for you"

She sounded unsure, but capitulated.

"... ok. I'll let you know when I have things arranged? It should be within the next few days. Maybe a week? I. Really shouldn't put this off. Probably,” pausing for a moment she asked, "Did you want to vet my choices? Maybe you'll spot something I didn't."

There was no hesitation in his response.

 "Send me whatever research you have and I'll look over it."

“Okay. Hey Kenshi?”

He hummed in askance.

“I love you.”

The line was quiet for a moment.

“I’ll see you soon sweetheart.”

…

The email came through quick enough, he was sure she’d already had it drafted. 

Anyone else he’d have thought presumptuous, but with her, he knew she’d just been hopeful he’d agree. Of course he did. 

He cancelled all his afternoon appointments. None of that was important. Not compared to this.

It didn’t take him long to notice she’d included medical files, “for context, so you know what we’re looking for” she’d noted.

Finally he could figure out exactly what was going on.

He tried not to hold it against her. She’d sounded scattered. She probably hadn’t even realized she hadn’t told him.

Those were the first documents he looked at.

Dismissing the things he already knew, not thinking too hard about her … stay, with Richardson, and bypassing the mental health sections, he found what he was looking for.

It wasn’t a huge relief, but it wasn’t as bad as it could have been.

The biopsy, or biopsies really, had been on a few melanomas. A mix of malignant and inconclusive. Not ideal, but they didn’t have reason to suspect it had spread.

Suspect or not, he was going to insist she have a full battery of tests, checks, and scans done.

He couldn’t risk them missing anything.

Pouring over her research, and doing some of his own, he spent the afternoon making notes and cross checking, until he was as comfortable with things as he could be. 

She was going to be ok, no matter what it took.

[tbznewberry]

Mental chains without keys | Lee Minhyuk

Having the ability to kill someone just by looking at them and imagining them dying is a dangerous trait. They've put her behind locked doors in a room without windows and in aliminium chains, the only metal that weakens her deadly power. One day a man comes in and is determined to being her out of there, saying that he'll save her. But will he really?

Word count: 1.4k

Genre: yandere, horror (?)

Warnings: yandere, obsession, manipulation, death

A/N: This is a story I wrote for @shinehyuk since it's her birthday today!!! Happy birthday bub, I hope you'll like this. It got a little messy sorry :((♡♡♡

She can hear the door open, but she can't see who's entering, but she figures it's one of the usual doctors. Since she can't see who it is, she can't kill them. She has to be able to read their faces. That's the ability she's born with. The metal around her head, throat, wrists and ankles weaken her. Ever since they realized that aluminum makes her weak, they've used it for everything. Carefully, the fabric blindfold gently removes from her eyes. The harsh hospital light penetrates her eyes, making her whimper.

"Shh, shh", an unfamiliar voice whispers. "It's okay."

Her eyes widen as she looks around. A pair of hands rest on her cheeks, caressing them gently. Her head gets locked back at the man in front of her. He's wearing a black hoodie and ripped jeans. He can't be much older than her.

She tries imagining him breaking his neck, but she can't formulate anything, everything is empty. Everything is spinning.

"You're so beautiful", the man breathes out, still caressing her cheeks. "Oh my ..."

Y/N tries opening her mouth to ask what the hell is going on, but she can't form any sounds. Her throat is as dry as a desert. She can't remember the last time she talked to somebody. Her heart beats quicker as her eyes frantically scan around.

"W-Water ...", Y/N croaks quietly.

The man's eyes widen again and he nods. "I'll get you some! Just wait for me."

She feels a sting of humiliated anger. Where the fuck is she supposed to go? She's chained like a circus animal. Is this unfamiliar man mocking her?

He runs back soon enough with a paper mug filled with water. He holds it to her mouth, watching her chug it down. A few drops run down her chin. She gasps and coughs.

"W-Who are you?" she stutters.

"I'm Minhyuk."

"T-That doesn't tell me anything!" she yells, tears threatening to fall out of her eyes. "I-I don't know who you are!"

"I'm a volunteer. I know you haven't seen me before ... you've always been wearing that cloth ... but I've seen you a lot of times. I have been feeding you. Remember that soup you ate a few days ago? That was me!" He puts his hand on her cheek.

"W-What do you want from me?"

"Nothing bad, I promise. I just can't stand to watch you like this anymore." He fixes her hair. "Such a shame to hide your ability when it can be used for so much."

"L-Leave me alone!"

"Y/N, would you rather stay here chained up for the rest of your life? Where you can't see or think anything?" He caresses her cheek with his thumb. "Is that what you want? Do you want the doctors to control your life like you're a circus lion? Come with me and I'll make sure you'll never come back here again."

The only thought Y/N's been able to formulate with the aluminium diadem is that she wants to get out of this hospital, but she has never been able to imagine what the outside world looks like. But now that the offer is up, she hesitates. Should she really?

"If you do some stuff for me, Y/N ... I will give you everything you could ever want", Minhyuk whispers. "I will give you the life you never got, okay? I will make sure you never end up here again."

Y/N gulps, looking around. She doesn't know what a 'real life' is. She hasn't spent a day outside this room for years. She barely remembers how the outside world looks like. But never coming back here again ...? Anything is better than this.

He starts unlocking the chains without waiting for an answer.

"W-What? W-Wait-", she starts.

"Shh, be silent", he whispers. "I'm going to get you out of here."

"M-Minhyuk, wait-"

"Oh my god, my name sounds amazing when you say it. But hey, what's wrong? Are you afraid?"

Y/N can't do anything other than nod. The mere thought of the frightening outside world is enough to make her break out in tears. The unfamiliar man hugs her as soon as she's gotten out of the chains. The aluminium diadem is still around her head, making her head a blank canvas with no paint to fill it with. She freezes in the hug. It's been years since she last got one, but she still remembers how it should feel like ... and this isn't it. Does he do it for her? The hug is firm and desperate and his breathing irregular, as if he's trying to fulfill a need of his quickly.

Y/N reaches up to remove the aluminium diadem, but his hands stop her.

"No", he breathes out. "Don't take that off."

He's afraid she's going to kill him. As soon as she can imagine him dying he will die.

"If you kill me, I won't be able to help you", Minhyuk whispers. "You won't survive without me, okay? You don't know the outside world, you need me. If you kill me, you have no one to protect you anymore."

"Why do you want me? I only kill people."

"Because I care for you. I will take care of you."

Y/N gulps. Will he really save her? Minhyuk gives her a soft smile before pulling her up on her legs. They fold right away. SHe hasn't been standing for years. Minhyuk chuckles sweetly and picks her up in his arms.

"I'll need you to be silent now", he whispers. "If you want to get out of here, you need to do exactly what I say. Otherwise I will be very mad."

Y/N's head is fogged up, the aluminum diadem fogging up her head. She can only nod. Minhyuk covers her with his hoodie and carries her through white corridors. She whimpers every now and then without really understanding why. She can't think. If only she could remove the aluminum diadem, she'd be able to act like a normal human.

"Shh, pretty thing", Minhyuk whispers. "I'm here."

He takes her outside the hospital and places her in the backseat of a car. Y/N whimpers and crawls back, hitting her head in the window.

"Y/N-" Minhyuk sighs. "Careful."

Her hands go up to her diadem again.

"No!" Minhyuk shouts. "Stop! Don't. Remember what I said. You won't be able to survive without my guidance. I will let you take it off when we trust each other, okay?"

"I-I'm so scared", Y/N sobs.

Minhyuk crawls into the backseat and embraces her. She can't think straight. Pieces of her thoughts are blurry, she can't formulate anything reasonable.

"Shh", Minhyuk cooes. "I'm here. I will take you home and you will get to sleep in a bed again."

She leans into his touch, terrified and vulnerable with a fogged, broken mind. Just like he wants her to be. But she doesn't know that. She doesn't know that coming home with him like this will certainly be worse than being chained and blindfolded in a windowless window in the hospital even if she didn't think so.

When they get home to Minhyuk, he carries her up to his apartment and tucks her in his bed. Y/N gulps, looking around in the dark room.

"Don't be scared", Minhyuk whispers, petting her hair. "You're safe now. You're out of that hospital now."

Nothing makes sense to her. Why does he want to help her when everyone has made sure that she would be tucked away in a hospital room? Why is he so nice to her? What will he do? If only she was allowed to remove the diadem, then she would be able to think clearly and puzzle everything together. She looks up at his sweet, reassuring smile knowing that she'll have to rely on him from now on. She knows nothing about the world. He is the only one she has and if she ever kills him, she'll be alone and vulnerable. She might not be able to think clearly, but he'll help her. She hopes. But she doesn't know that she's sealed her deal with the devil. He'll take care of her alright, but not like she thinks he will. He'll use her deadly ability to his advantage, getting rid of the people in his life that he hates and keep her in his apartment where only he can influence her.

Y/N doesn't know that she'll never get the freedom Minhyuk promises about. She'll be chained again, but not in physical ones but in sweet talk and threats about being all alone in this frightening world if she decides to kill him. And these mental chains have no key.

[toranekooo]

WELCOME TO... HALLOWEEN NIGHT. [EVENT CLOSED~]

hello, everyone!! mod maiko here, but for this event, i'm gonna be the host to a halloween of trick or treating~ to ignite some activity in this blog, i'll be hosting a very very quick halloween event! prev pinned here.

the mechanics of this one will be super simple, all you have to do is say...trick or treat!

mechanics:

to participate in the event, you simply have to send me an ask saying:

“(character) says: knock knock, trick or treat!”

you're free to use any character from my sources, so long as they aren't in my blacklist. any characters coming from outside sources will be deleted. try to imagine the character is your costume for this event!

you can receive either of the two responses to your ask, a trick or a treat!

if you receive a treat, i'll make an edit of your character based on what type of candy you received! there are three types of candies: hard candy (icons), gummy bears (layouts), and chocolate bars (wallpapers) !

however, if you receive a trick...fufufu~ you'll have to solve a riddle, in order to get your prize! not to worry, the riddle will be about an edit of mine! i will, very vaguely albeit, describe an edit i have made, and you just have to look for it! once you find it, send it via another ask saying:

“(character) says: knock knock, the trick is done! the answer is: (name of edit/link to edit)”

once you solve the riddle, you're free to pick between any of the three candies~! if you solve incorrectly, i will reveal the answer and you'll automatically receive a hard candy!

anons are allowed to participate, but please remember to use a sign-off so i know who you are! also be nice in my asks, a please and thank you never hurt, even in spooky times~!

there will be a daily limit to trick-or-treaters! i will only be answering four asks everyday! candy isn't unlimited yk :( if you don't see your ask answered, come back the next day and send it again~! buuut, if i've already given you a treat or a trick, no more the next day, okay? i'll be posting a warning on how many candies i have left to give, so dont worry!!

this event will run for three days! from the 1st of november to the 4th (GMT+8) the end date may come earlier or later due to changes in my schedule, but i intend to fulfill the event till the end!

now, i haven't done an actual proper event since...a very long time, so if you don't mind, i'd like to ask for a promo! pls lmk if i should remove your tag and thank you so much!!

@flowergardeneditz @wnyawn @kureinas @himerustarz @eiternityy @elwindss @paintingofdawn @ickiuz @sakurango @vymprena @luvconut @twisted-lies + anyone else who would be kind enough to! idk much here anymore TvT but thank you so much!!!

[l-artemisia-del-secolo]

Tasting

Natasha Romanoff x reader, one shot.

Just a little almost innocent game

You could see how nervous she was. Her sharp breathing, flushed cheeks, restless chest. Redhead was compromised and she was enjoying this. It was almost impossible for her to sit still, but you were hissing at her every movement.

She could feel the gentle touch of silk on her burning skin as you were teasing her neck with a blindfold.

"If you're going to be an obidient girl, we both will enjoy it." You sat on her lap and immediately felt her hands on your hips.

You smiled at her pout, but remained focused.

"Don't worry. It's just a cute game. Nothing more."

She adored you being like this, controlling her, teasing her, letting her taste all the shades of sensations.

You saw the adoration in her gaze, desire in her expression, impatience in her grip.

"And what if I say I'm sorry. I didn't want to make fun of you." She bit her lower lip, knowing that she was not allowed to do that. Her lips belonged only to you.

"You should have thought about this before saying that I'm satisfied with everything if it has at least one drop of any alcohol." You kissed her eyelashes, before adjusting the blindfold.

"Can you see me?"

"No." She said under her breath.

"Good. And remember, no touching."

You stood up and Nat could hear you pouring something into the glasses, shaking, stirring. She could feel the air changing, becoming thicker, filled with her own anticipation. You were watching your woman with the corner of your eye. Her head was thrown back, opening her defensless pulse. Her fingers were drumming on the armrests.

"Well, rules are very simple." You put the tray on the table next to her. "I've made a few things. Either cocktails or neat. You taste them. If you guess, let's say, 3 out of 3, we forget about your unfortunate joke. If not, you'll have to apologize very... Sincerely."

Your last word sent familiar dangerous shivers down her spine. For her it could go either way. Even after months of you being together, that insecure part of her still was afraid to be left at your mercy. What if you chose to leave her in shambles, what if chose simply to play with her, what if you were enjoying using her trust, testing its limits.

You knew exactly what she was thinking about.

"Nat, I'm with you." You kissed her temple. "We can stop at any moment. Just tell me, ok?"

Instead of an answer, she caught you chin and guided your face closer to hers. She kissed you lower lip. It was a "yes".

You stood close, lowering yourself to her.  While facing her, you could notice timid attempts to inhale more of you, to absorb more of you, to gorge herself on your ardour.

"Let's start with the easiest thing."

She could hear you rubbing the finger along the rim of a glass. Those vibrations sending tingles down her spine. At first it was the aroma. As rich as it was sweet, backed up by fruity, ripe flavours. It's always been too sugared for her. But now with your thumb on her lips she could enjoy the honeyed taste. She tried to catch your finger, to let her tongue feel the drops of complexity.

"I'm not making it easier for you." You whispered and earned a disappointed groan.

Her senses suddenly faded, when you removed your hand from her face.

"Easy, right?"

"Wine." You could barely hear her.

"Mhm. Sweet, isn't it?"

Redhead nodded. Sweetest she ever had.

"You never liked it, didn't you?'

"Not enough..." She shrugged. "Fire."

"I have it for you."

You took another glass. She could hear ice fighting the liquid. Nat knew that fire would be in the end, thus now this drink would be the shivering cold.

She knew you too well, but still gasped in surprise when a few drops kissed her collarbone.

"You like it, when it's a lot." You leaned forward and stole the alcohol from her skin with a touch. "I remember that."

Intensity was in every line of Nat's breathing. You knew, she closed her eyes, you knew she bit her tongue, you knew she was imagining your every move. At first, at the beginning of your relationship she always tried to predict your next step. Simply because she had to. She was trained, she was taught to, made to. But you showed her a different way. That blindfold that now was closing her eyes, opened a whole new universe to enjoy. Unpredictable and deep, strong and all hers.

"Let me taste it."

You had no choice but to obey the warm rusp of her voice.

Nat stoped breathing, when you carefully traced the line of her lips with such a familiar taste. Ice was melting, letting the flavour of the alcohol almost reach her breast. You leaned forward and traced the trail of drops from her chest to her chin with your tongue, with your breath  burning her skin even more.

Nat muttered something in her native language, suspiciously similar to what she was whispering during your nights together.

"You are on the right track." You gently kissed her numb lips.

"You think, I wouldn't know what is it?"

For the first time she smiled. Even if you didn't see, you knew, fire of confidence in her eyes returned. The dynamics flipped. Changed enough for Nat to challenge you, to think that she was going to win. It was so natural for her.

"I'm sure, you know. Hope I didn't make it too creamy."

Her posture changed. You noticed her smirk, crossed legs, every muscle poised for action. Nat was in her element. She was ready to pull you closer, when you'd approach her with the next glass.

"White Russian." She said with the thickest accent possible, knowing well what that "R" did to you.

She heard you inhale deeply, make a sip, lick your lips. It was the time for the third round. It was time for the fire.

"Tell me, what did I drink."

You put your hands on hers, anchoring her. She was watching you, you sensed it even through a blindfold.

Nat could feel you moments away from herself. Your scent lured her in. She knew what was the drink. With you so close, you hair tickling her neck, your lips almost touching hers, the fire was flaring up into her, over her, through her.

"I..."

"Where is all confidence now, Redhead?"

Of course, she knew the drink. She saw you having it so many times, choosing over and over again. The one that was always burning your throat, always clearing your mind.

Desire to win was so strong, it would make you apologize, listen to her, obey. It would destroy all the doubts.

But the longer you were by her side the less she cared. Your warmth reminded her of so many times she felt your love, your care and protection. She wanted to be in this position, she wanted to be with you. She needed to finally surrender completely.

"I want to see you." Redhead whispered.

You took the blindfold off and met her intense gaze. Her hands suddenly free were already on your waist, pulling you on her lap.

"I have no idea what is it." Nat articulated every word for you not to miss the real intent. "And I'm sure I owe you an apology."

"You are."

"Then I'm all yours to take it."

[mypoisonedvine]

Side Effects | Bruce Banner x reader

summary: you never know what might be in the beakers at another chemist's station. you never know which of your colleagues might come along just in the knick of time to become the only antidote to your affliction.

word count: 3.6k

warnings: smut! (dub con due to sex pollen), semi-public sex (because technically someone could have walked by but unlikely), guilt/hesitance, kinda pining??, fingering, creampie,

a/n: yes, this is an accurate depiction of emergency shower protocol in a chemical lab and yes it is every lab technician's worst nightmare. thankfully the other stuff is not an accurate depiction of any known chemical, lol.

You wiped your forehead with a tired sigh, staring down at the calculations in front of you before using your pen to scribble over them before tearing out the page and throwing it away.

“You still do that by hand?” Bruce interjected, making you look up at where he was leaning in the doorway to the lab, watching you work.

“Oh, Dr. Banner!” you greeted with a smile, wondering if it was too ecstatic. You weren’t so good at the ‘playing it cool’ thing like he seemed to be.

“We have all those fancy screens and digital whiteboards, you know,” he explained as he stepped in and looked around at your work. “Not to mention the computer can do that stuff for you.”

“I know,” you scoffed, “but I always feel better doing it myself, on real paper. Not that I’m having any luck at the moment…”

"Here, I'll give them a quick look while you take a break," he offered, glancing at the numbers from over your shoulder. "You just get up and stretch your legs for a minute, doc."

You always thought it was sort of silly for him to call you that when he was a doctor as well, but you didn't complain.

Regardless, you were about to tell him that it was fine and you didn't need a break, but he was leaning in closer to take your seat and the proximity was so intimidating that you hopped up and went along with it anyways. He sat down and pondered your calculations while you circled the lab, taking a moment to appreciate how nice it felt to stand up and move around after sitting for so long.

"Your handwriting is…" Bruce trailed off, adjusting his glasses.

"Feminine and graceful?" you finished sarcastically.

"Sure," he chuckled.

"Yeah, just like me—" you started to quip, but mid-sentence you (ironically) stumbled and tripped, using a nearby table to catch yourself— but you accidentally grabbed onto a beaker, which tipped over and smashed onto the ground. The liquid inside spilled onto the floor just before you did, and you winced as you fell into the puddle of the unknown substance.

“Shit!” you hissed as you scrambled to get up, looking down at your clothes and seeing they were covered in the fluid, which was beginning to evaporate, or steam, or something. Remembering lab safety protocols, you instantly began to strip, closing your eyes and wishing Bruce hadn’t come in just before this. As you shirked your lab coat, shirt, and skirt, you walked to the emergency shower, pulling the lever and gasping when the chilly stream of water poured down on you. Bruce looked at you with wide eyes before being kind enough to turn around as you shivered and removed your bra and underwear, now completely naked and weakly scrubbing yourself with your hands in hopes that none of the chemical had gotten onto your skin.

“What is it?” he asked nervously, turning his head back enough that you could hear him over the flow of water, but hopefully not so much that he could see anything important.

“I don’t know,” you answered, “it’s not mine. It’s something Dr. Sutherland was working on…”

“Is it… are you in pain at all?” he asked, even more concerned, and you tried to decide if you could feel any effects.

“N-no…” you answered hesitantly. You felt hot, and strange, and you were covered in rolling chills, but you figured that was just the situation you were in— naked in a tepid shower in front of your coworker who just so happened to be incredibly sexy.

“I should call poison control,” Bruce offered as he reached for his cell phone.

“No, I’m fine,” you denied as the water flow slowed down and you wiped your face, confident that you looked like a complete mess— but at least you saved yourself from whatever was in that beaker, right?

“Here,” Bruce offered an emergency blanket to you after pulling it off a nearby shelf, and it was not at all absorbent but it helped with the draft as you stepped away from the shower which was still leaking the last few drops of water onto the drain on the floor.

“Thank you,” you nodded nervously, shivering and dripping and looking back at him with no idea what to say at all.

“Do you feel alright? I should check you for burns,” he suggested. “I— I won’t look…”

“Please,” you sighed, pulling the blanket a bit to expose your chest and stomach. He brushed his hand over the skin there, making you instantly whine as heat burned just under your skin, clouding your mind and making you crave even more.

"Did that hurt?" he asked anxiously, pulling away, but you stepped closer.

"No it's… it's good, it's so good."

He furrowed his brow as he looked down at you, putting the back of his hand to your forehead. "You're burning up, doc, you must be running a fever of 105."

"Touch me more, please," you whimpered. It was like you were in a dream, everything foggy and distant, and the only time that anything made sense was when he touched you. Or maybe it was that his touch sent you further into delirium; you couldn't be sure.

He gasped when he looked at your quivering legs only to find slick arousal running down the inside of them, threatening to drip onto the floor.

"Oh," he sighed.

"Please," you begged mindlessly, "Dr. Banner, I n-need you…"

"No, you need medical attention."

You whined and grabbed as his shirt, humming at the feeling of his warm skin just beneath. If the forearms that he often left exposed in rolled-up sleeves were anything to go buy, his chest was probably toned and tanned, lightly dusted with dark hair… you were all but drooling at the thought. "Please, Bruce… just help me," you pleaded, looking up into his eyes which were swirling with conflict.

"I can't," he shook his head. "I'd be taking advantage."

He must have seen the heartbreak of rejection make you wince, because he tried to soothe you with his hands resting on your arms— even just that contact making you suppress a moan.

"I've wanted this for so long," he explained, "and you— you haven't. You're unwell, you need to go to a hospital."

You sobbed a little at the idea of being taken away from him and examined by strangers, when you knew the solution was right in front of you. "No, no Bruce they'll touch me! Nobody can touch me but you, I only want you."

He scoffed, but you heard the weakness in it and you needed him to give in soon before you melted from your own hear. "You're deranged— delirious," he reiterated.

"It'll feel so good, please Bruce, I'll be so good for you— anything you want, I'll do it, I'm yours."

"Stop talking like that," he winced. "I can't… I can't."

"I need to feel you inside me, Dr. Banner, I need it more than anything. It's just gonna get worse… please, help me. I want you. I trust you."

"You'll hate me in the morning," he asserted. "God, this is so wrong…"

But much to your relief, he reached down and hesitantly slid his thick middle finger through your folds, gasping gently as he felt how wet you were. "I should t-take you somewhere private."

"No, need you now— right here," you pleaded, trying to chase his touch with your hips.

"But if someone came by—" he began to fret, glancing at the door; but his attention was turned back to you by your hands weaving into his hair.

"Nobody else stays this late, god, Bruce please I just need you so bad—"

He cut you off with a sudden kiss, which was enough on its own to make warmth bloom in your gut, but then he started to move his finger again and you shuddered with a moan that was muffled by his lips.

"Maybe I can make you come like this," he offered as he pulled back just enough to whisper to you, "would that help you? It'll take the edge off."

You bucked and moaned against his fingers, just those subtle touches driving you wild. "N-no, it has to be inside! You have to fuck me, I need your cock."

He breathed through his teeth, like he was almost considering it, but then looked away. "I can't," he shook his head.

"Can't or won't?"

He frowned. "Won't. I'll get you off with my fingers, otherwise it would be… too selfish."

"Bruce, I'm literally begging you for it," you sighed, the irritated tone that you'd intended lost in the moans he elicited by rubbing your swollen clit.

"I know," he winced, "I know and it's killing me that I can't give you what you're asking for… I swear if it wasn't like this…" he trailed off as you looked up at him with your bottom lip between your teeth.

"What would it be like?" you asked lowly. "Tell me how you would fuck me."

For all his shyness before, there was a brief switch in his demeanor as he leaned in, breath hot against your neck as he whispered, two fingers sliding into your channel at the exact moment that he spoke.

"So fucking hard."

You whimpered, knees wobbling a bit as you tried to ride his fingers— but he wasn't pushing back, wasn't giving you enough force to balance against when you sought more friction. "P-please, Bruce— I know you want to, please, please baby I need it so bad…"

"I know," he breathed, free hand cradling your face as his thumb stroked your cheek, and it was so needlessly compassionate, so effortlessly soothing that your heart had no choice but to clench at his tenderness. Other parts of you clenched as well, in much more literal ways, but the heart thing was more important.

You gingerly reached forward and palmed his cock through his pants, moaning when you felt how hard it was. "You're desperate, too," you informed him with a little smile. "It hurts, doesn't it? It aches."

"Yes," he answered tensely.

"I'm hurting too. I'm aching, for you. Please, Bruce, help me."

As he pulled back and examined your face, he chewed his lip and contemplated. He couldn't stand to see you in pain, but he couldn't comprehend what he had to do to help you. Well, okay, that's not totally accurate because he had actually "comprehended" the idea of making love to you plenty of times. But that was just a fantasy, a very misguided one that he only indulged in in his weakest moments. And in those fantasies, shockingly enough, you were always completed lucid and of sound mind and body. He sadly could not say that for you at the moment, and of course he couldn't because of course when you were sober and healthy, you didn't see him that way.

Bruce prided himself on his logic, his integrity, his patience. Suddenly, those qualities were falling prey to a much deeper, carnal instinct that saw this not as a predicament but as an opportunity. Logic states, after all, that it would be wasteful to have everything he wanted thrown into his lap and to let it go to waste.

"Fuck," he groaned as he kissed you again, fucking you faster with his fingers. You moaned and went for his belt, barely managing to open it with your hands shaking so much; part of you had considered just trying to rip the leather off of him, and with the force of your need it seemed almost plausible.

Finally getting his trousers opened just enough to reach inside, you purred as you reached in and navigated past his boxers to wrap your fingers around his hard cock. It was so thick and smooth and hot and you almost wanted to drop to your knees and take it in your throat right then, but you had better plans.

He pulled his fingers out of you slowly, grinning against you at the way you whined, before wrapping his arms around you and quickly instructing you to jump.

It was infuriating, how easily he caught you when you wrapped your body around him. Infuriating and so painfully sexy.

He never broke the kiss as he walked the two of you to your lab table, sliding the papers aside and onto the floor to set you on it. You started on his aggravatingly-small shirt buttons while he pushed his trousers and boxers down the rest of the way, and god his cock was right there between your legs, so close but very much too far away for your liking.

You didn't have the time or energy to get his shirt off, settling for just running your hands over the exposed skin instead. He grinned and watched the path your hands made, hissing slightly when they wrapped around his shaft— for a second you swore you could feel it throb.

"Don't make me wait anymore," you whispered your plea, sighing a little when he nodded.

"Okay baby," he agreed.

"Been waiting so long," you whined.

"Me too," he nodded, and with a little push, his cock slid all the way into you and filles you to the brim. Even when you were completely drenched, the girth of him was so wide that it stung, that it tore you open, but you loved it. Your head fell back and just from him being inside you, you came. The substance had you so needy and sensitive that that was all it took. It wasn't enough yet, of course. You knew you needed more. But God, he felt so good you could hardly breathe.

"Baby," you heard Bruce gasp, his fingers digging into your hips. Your chest twisted when he laughed a little, breathless and just teetering on the line between complimentary and mocking. "Did you just come?"

You considered playing dumb, but nodded instead.

His smile was apparent when he pressed his lips just below your ear to suck on the delicate skin there, his teeth trailing up to nibble your earlobe lightly. You hoped he would leave a mark, you hoped he would leave lots of marks that you could remember this by for weeks to come.

"Couldn't help yourself, huh?" he asked breathlessly, whispering so quietly you could barely hear it over the beating of your own pulse which echoed in your ears.

"You feel so good," you justified, "so fucking good, Bruce."

"You too," he sighed as he finally pulled back and slid into you again, the friction making your back arch instantly. "Even better than I imagined."

You smiled and wrapped your legs around his hips, forcing him to push deeper with each thrust. When he pushed you to your limits it felt like you might just fall apart right there, but it was so worth it.

As if that wasn't enough, he reached down and circled a thumb over your overstimulated clit, grinning down at you at the sight of you writhing and bucking wildly in his arms.

"Fuck!" you cried as you tightened your hands on his shoulders into fists hard enough to risk tearing through his shirt.

"Too much?"

"More," you pleaded instead, crying out when he gave you exactly what you wanted with fast, rough thrusts into your drenched walls. "Yes," you sobbed, "yes, fuck— m'gonna come, Bruce, gonna come again."

"Go ahead," he encouraged, voice so much rougher than normal, "show me how good it feels, baby."

It felt like his words were the thin that pushed you over the edge, as if your body somehow both understood and obeyed his command. You could feel a renewed wave of slick leak out from you, enough that you could hear the wetness in each slap of his hips against yours. His name was somewhere in the litany of curses and praises that spilled from your lips, your mind too clouded with hazy pleasure to keep track of what you were actually saying.

"Just like that," he groaned, "doing so good, fuck, say my name just like that every time I make you come."

An easy enough stricture to follow, especially when it seemed like he was all you could think about. He looked so different with his clothes half-shorn and his eyes dark with lust. He hadn't taken his glasses or labcoat off and you weren't sure which of those you were happier about.

His lips and hands were all over you; you couldn't even keep track of everywhere he was touching you, that's how overwhelming it was. "God, you're so fucking perfect," he groaned against your skin, finding a hardened nipple as his tongue explored you and wrapping his lips around it. "You are so goddamn sexy, you know that? I love seeing you with your legs spread for me like a needy little whore. I love hearing you moan and knowing I'm the one making you feel this good."

He took a moment to look at you and soak in your shocked reaction to his words before leaning in to continue.

"I love feeling you come for me," he purred in your ear.

"Then you're gonna really like what I'm about to do," you shivered.

"Yeah? You can gimme another one already?" he smiled. "Such a good girl…"

You really couldn't help it, it felt like everything he did only enhanced your pleasure— his words, his hands all over you, not to even mention his cock inside you. As much as the hedonistic corner of your brain was happy to let this go on forever, the ramifications of constant orgasms were finally catching up with you as you wondered how much more of this you could take.

"F-fuck, are you close?" you asked weakly. "Want you to come for me, Bruce, please."

"I-I'll pull out," he suggested, although the way he looked down at his length sinking into you and pulling back out, covered in your abundant arousal, didn't exactly indicate that he was willing and able to actually make good on his offer.

"No!" you yelped, pulling him closer by his unbuttoned shirt. "It needs to be inside, Bruce, please come inside me."

"Fuck," he hissed through his teeth.

"Please, Bruce, please, promise you'll come inside."

"I will," he sighed, "fuck, I will baby, I promise I'm gonna fill you up so good, you're gonna have my come so fucking deep inside you…"

"Yes!" you moaned, completely unabashed as the unknown substance had apparently absolved you of any shame whatsoever. "Yes, I want it, Bruce, I want your come."

The moment you felt his seed start to paint your walls, you felt relief begin to wash over you. Your mind and body relaxed, the overwhelming heat under your skin subsiding into a comforting warmth, the desperation that had burned in your gut satiated at last.

And that left you staring up at him in realization of what you had done, just as he looked back at you with the same.

"God, I'm so sorry—" he shuddered, moving to pull away. Instinctively your legs wrapped around his hips again, holding him close.

"N-no, wait," you groaned, "it's okay. Don't go."

"You don't hate me," he said, the exhaustion in his tone making it hard to tell if it was a question or a statement.

"Never," you sighed with a weak smile, sitting up to clutch his face and kiss him again. "God, Bruce, now I'm just wondering what took us so long."

"Our lab safety is just too good, clearly," he smiled as he kissed you again, pulling back a little too soon to examine your face where he held it in his hands. "Are you okay? You should still probably go to a doctor…"

"I'm already with a doctor," you smirked, "and his treatment was very effective."

"Yeah, that was…" he trailed off, wide eyes as if he were reminiscing about what had only just transpired.

"Sorry for being so… desperate," you cringed. "I didn't mean to… um… impose…"

He just laughed and kissed your forehead, making you feel your cheeks warm a bit; ironic that with everything that had just happened, this was what made you blush. "A beautiful, amazing woman that I've been dreaming about for months begs me to take her in the laboratory… really inconvenient."

"I mean, cleaning up these papers and the broken glass is gonna be pretty tedious, along with the incident report," you frowned.

"I'll help you with it," he offered.

"Tomorrow," you decided. "Right now, I'm taking you to my place."

"Is that so?" he asked with a bemused smirk.

"Yep. We both are in serious need of a shower, and then I wanna go again," you grinned wickedly.

"I thought you said you weren't feeling the effects of the chemical anymore," he recalled, voice tinted with concern.

"I'm not," you reassured, "I'm just feeling the effects of you."