#blossoms writing

[snowblossomreads]

Attention

Summary: In where [Y/n] is feeling a bit needy due to her husband paying his work more attention than her.

Pairing: Judge Turpin x FemReader

Tag(s)/Warning(s): Cockwarming, Penetrative Sex, Begging, Pet Names, some Dom/Sub vibes (it's Turpin of course)

Word Count: 4.1K

A/N: HAHAH Thought you've seen the last of me didn't you?? This plot showed up at my door step and beat me up thanks to @slytherinsight221 💖💖💖. Turpin seems like the type to enjoy some cockwarming when doing work so here we are. Please enjoy and feel free to scream at me how it made u feel : )

Enjoy!

MDNI!

The great Judge Turpin of London was a very busy man. From the many trials he had to preside over, to the equally as many death sentences he had to dole out.

A very busy man indeed.

And a very cold man at that as all seemed to want to avoid him lest they face his wrath and be sentenced to hang on the gallows just like the many poor souls before them.

Yet there was one who saw beyond this. One who got to see the occasional gentleness in those eyes that seemed to always be stormy. One who got to listen to the soft roll of thunder that was his voice as he whispered sweet nothings into her ear before they retired to bed.

The Lady [Y/n] Turpin.

The judge's young wife who at first had been as afraid of the man as so many others when the betrothal to him was offered. Though offered was not really the correct word as it made it sound like she had a choice in it.

No, it was more of a transaction, her hand in marriage and in return her family would be spared poverty and shame after it was found that [Y/n]'s father had been running a scheme and using the family's business as a cover-up to sell counterfeit goods to the members of London's high society.

A done deal the moment it was offered and she was married off to the man and whisked to his home merely weeks after the arrangement.

Frightened she had been of him at first, scared and nervous from all the terrible things she had heard whispered about him.

‘A cruel man that one. Who puts children to death for petty things like taking a piece of bread?’

‘Mhmm and did you hear about his ward?’

‘No, what about her?’

‘Heard she run off with some poor bloke from the docks. When the authorities found both of them and brought them back, he sent the poor lad to the gallows and the ward to live at some convent!’

Learning that he had sent his former ward’s lover to a penal camp and her to a convent just for running away had her stomach in knots.

And once they were legally wed, the fear in her seemed to grow as all her things were loaded up into a carriage that same day and brought to his- their home.

To say she was terrified was an understatement as she knew that as his wife, it was her duty to be subordinate to him. That night and every night from thereafter. But especially on the night of their marriage.

Yet when it was time to consummate the union she had been taken aback that he did not force himself on her. No the very opposite, instead a chaste kiss was placed on her hesitant lips, and in that deep rumbling voice of his he had stated that,

‘Not until you are ready shall I know all of you and you all of me. I am not ignorant of my reputation and I will not let them stain our marriage bed.’

That night they went to bed, with her still untouched yet her heart beating wildly as she lay awake. He would not touch her until she was ready. Something about what he said made her heart beat a little faster and not because she was frightened.

And he kept true to his word. Only chaste kisses on her forehead, her lips, or cheek, or the back of her hand whenever he felt like it.

It was not a wonder that it only took a matter of weeks before she submitted herself to him with the patience and gentleness he showed her. And dear lord she asked herself almost every day afterward why she had hesitated.

Even if he had been her first, she knew that no other man could measure up to the pleasure that he had brought her over and over. He made her make noises that she didn't think she could.

Touched her deeper than her fingers ever could when she was curious at night in her own bed when she was in her parent's home.

And his gravely baritone voice next to her ear with his groans and moans as he filled her both with his cock and seed made her wonder how she had lived without him for so long.

Night after night they would make love when he wasn't tired from the draining duties of his profession. Slow, fast, hard, soft, he took her many ways yet all of them were as pleasurable as the time before.

She had even confessed her love to him when they were in the throes of passion and she had never been so sore the day after. Pretty bruises littered her hips where he had held her tightly and her cunt ached from the pounding it had endured.

From that day on she allowed herself to be spoiled by him. To be loved by him and to love on him whenever they could and whenever he had time.

But again, time was what he had so little of these days due to the increase in cases the court was hearing. And along with that came the smidgen of neglect [Y/n] felt when all they seemed to have time to do was give each other morning kisses and good night kisses.

He wasn't the type of man to pass up pleasure now, but there hardly seemed to be time for it now with how quickly he would fall asleep the moment he laid his head down on his pillow.

How dare that man withhold the pleasure of their marriage bed from her though! It was an irrational thought and it wasn't at all his fault with how busy he was but she was needy and she needed him.

And that is how she found herself standing on the other side of the library which was also his office in their home with little more than a chemise that she had slept in. It was a Saturday morning and while he didn't need to go into court it seemed that he had brought his work home. 

Again.

But this time she would have none of it she thought as she knocked on the mahogany door. Once he saw her wearing almost nothing and wandering the house for all to see, she was sure he would teach her one of his 'famous' lessons.

"I thought I instructed that I be left alone?"

His harsh words filled the air as [Y/n] opened the door to find him sitting at his desk, papers scattered about the tabletop. Though when he looked up to see who it was, the harsh lines on his face relaxed when he realized it was her. Yet when his eyes raked over her form, she could see him become tense again as he eyed her with a sharp inhale.

"Ah, but I see it is my sweet little wife who has come to visit," he hummed, a twinkle coming alive in his eyes as [Y/n] approached his desk, going around the corner to stand by him.

"Indeed, and I hope you would make an exception for my interruption," she replied back to him before leaning down to press a kiss against his cheek.

One that was a bit prickly. Though she did love how it tickled against her face when they were near and she couldn't help but giggle at the feeling of the scratchiness.

"Always my dear, you are quite more interesting to look at than all these cases," he spoke while motioning his hand towards all the papers splayed about, "and it puts me at ease knowing you are safe and where you belong."

That had her raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, and where is it that I belong?" [Y/n] teased, a little simper playing on her face as she watched his expression morph into something devious.

There was a glint in his eyes as he looked up at her, his thick fingers wrapping around her wrist and pulling her closer to him. His other hand going to stroke her side causing a shiver to run up her spine as he scooted away from his desk just enough that [Y/n] wormed her way between those strong thighs of his. Thighs she quite enjoyed being able to sit on whenever she had the chance.

"Where else do you think you belong other than by my side," he purred, fingers brushing against her, causing her dress to hitch up a little.

"There are quite a few other places I think I belong, sir," she answered back, a coy look on her face as her body reacted positively to his touch as goosebumps danced across her skin. "Yet I fear that you have not had enough time recently to indulge in such activities."

This had him smirking as his hand left her wrist and joined the other in holding her waist, turning her around to face the desk before pulling her down to sit on his lap.

Even with the layer of clothing she wore she could still feel the excitement growing in his trousers and she couldn't help the moan that left her lips as she pushed herself back on him.

"Now if I did not know better, I would ask where my sweet innocent wife has gone," he said, gripping her waist a little harder to keep her from moving around as he felt himself grow more excited. "Yet it seems we aren't so innocent."

Of course she wasn't, not with him as her husband. She had lost her innocence to him both physically and in thinking long ago and she would gladly let him take it again but that was beside the point. 

The point was she needed him, and preferably in the next few moments or she feared she would explode with the desire that was rampaging around in her.

"Richard please," his name left her lips in a whimper as she twisted her body slightly just to see his face. A smirk on those thin lips of his that were so kissable. Damn, this man!

"I've missed you, you haven't touched me in weeks. Each night I go to bed dreaming of you my love. Thinking of how you feel on me, in me," she confessed, the urge to bury her face against his shoulders strong but not as strong as the thrumming in her stomach that yearned for him "Please I need you my love."

Her last sentence came out as a desperate plea as she leaned back against his chest.

"Hmm, well I do consider myself to be a fair man," Richard purred, leaning up and nipping at [Y/n]'s ear lobe as his hands trailed up to squeeze her breasts causing her to whine and shudder. ”A deal then. Shall we my love?“

"Mmm yes anything, anything Richard please," [Y/n] sighed as he pinched and squeezed her pebbled nipples through her gown sending a tingle down her spine and right through her core that was burning with need for him.

"There is some work yet to be done and I cannot delay it any longer so the deal my sweet, if you can sit still in my lap until I finish I'll be yours to do with for the rest of the day and tomorrow."

That was all? Surely that couldn't be all-

"I see the wheels working in your head little one and yes that is not all," he purred in her ears. He knew her too well. "Not only will you stay still on my lap, but as punishment for interrupting my work, you shall do it while keeping me warm."

"Warm? Richard I-," her question was interrupted by her squeaking as her husband pushed her forward just a bit making room for him to undo his trousers.  

The sound of buttons popping caused her to look back, hands gripping the desk to keep her steady as she watched him free his cock from its confines.

The thick organ strained against the cloth before it was freed to lay heavy on his stomach as he pushed the waist of his trousers down just past his hips.

Ah, warm him. So that's what he wanted.

"R-Richard my love, darling, you know what you do to me," she mewled out as she felt the bottom of her dress be lifted to expose her and her hips dragged back towards her husband's lap. "I do not think I will be able to sit still if you are inside me."

"Really," he drawled huskily as he gripped his cock and began to slide the head of it against her exposed slit that had already begun to wet itself at the mere thought of her husband. 

A little moan passed through her lips as her legs automatically widened for him causing the tip of him to slip just past her folds. "You would deny your husband the pleasure he so deserves because you simply cannot sit still? Is this what you are saying to me?"

"No!" She squeaked out head shaking left to right as he began to pull her down to take her seat upon his strained arousal. "No never my love I would never deny you I just-!"

"Good, then I believe we have our deal."

No sooner had he said that did he fully pull [Y/n] down on his waiting cock that slid into her with almost no resistance.

"Richa- oh my lord!"  She cried breathlessly as he breached passed her lips that sucked him in hungrily as she sunk completely down onto his lap.

An absolute cunt stretcher* he was and she was more than happy to have it stretching her open as she took him to the hilt moaning at how full she felt with him inside of her.

Beads of sweat formed on her forehead as her fingers grasped at his thighs. Her head fell back on his shoulder as she felt him wrap one arm around her waist. His thick fingers stroked her belly lovingly causing her body to shutter and her hungry opening to squeeze at the thickness that filled her completely.

"O-oh oh Richard, my love," [Y/n] panted out as her cunt rippled around his cock that held her open as he shifted in his seat making himself more comfortable while he reached to grab one of the papers that were haphazardly sitting on his desk.

"Mmm that's it my little love, stay just like this for me," he hummed, his baritone voice thundering in her veins as he rocked teasingly against her causing her to whimper and tense at the pleasure that licked at her insides. "Such a good little wife for me. So obedient," he purred as she trembled in his arms while her body ached and begged for more. Yet he held her still on his cock, whispering sweet and lewd things to her ever so often as he looked through some case findings she presumed.

"Mmm, so very warm, and tight just as one should be for their lord husband."

"Ah, ah no moving my little love, what did I tell you about that."

"Oh did you like me touching you right there my sweet? Your little bud has always been so sensitive when you have me settled inside you."

Oh god this man, her husband, he was so filthy. The words he spoke were absolutely lust-inducing as she sat as still as possible on his lap trying to control the spasms inside her each time he uttered those words into her ear.

She was sure his lap was drenched by now as her insides clenched around him. Rapid breaths of air left her lips as she tried to calm her racing heart as he shifted again to grab another piece of paper on his desk.

This torture, this delicious torture seemed to go on forever as he went about his work ignoring her need that was dripping out of her at some point.

Sometimes he went as far as leaning over her body to write something down on a piece of parchment and causing his cock to slide deeper in between her drenched folds. Leaving her moaning and whimpering as her body demanded that it be allowed more of him.

"Oh Richard please, please," she begged softly, tears filling her eyes at the burning in her stomach that protested at the pleasure that was being withheld from it.

Trying to turn her head to at least gaze at him hoping her wet eyes would convince him to give her more, she was only met with him grabbing the sides of her jaw and gently turning her face forward.

"Eyes front sweet one," he purred, in command of her as usual, though she could hear from the husk of his voice that all of this abstaining was also affecting him as he shifted once again in his seat causing him to brush against a sensitive spot in her core. "Almost done and then I can indulge you till your heart's content. Be a patient wife for me just a little longer."

She was trying to be patient, she was. But it was impossible when her sex was impaled on him and aching to milk him of his seed and to release her own desire onto him.  But she would be patient as he asked her to be. As it was her duty as his wife to obey him in all things as their vows had stated.

So she sat. Her thoughts ebbing and flowing trying to find something else to focus on other than him inside her.

She tried to take interest in the many books that were shelved in the library, but her mind quickly wandered to the vulgar and graphic content that many of them displayed. Pictures of men and women writhing against each other in the throes of pleasure. Stories of orgies and debauchery in the middle age. The fantasies of men and women alike in many of those books

All things and more were stored on the shelves, some she had even read herself at the behest of her husband. Some he had read to her as they indulged in the pleasures that the book instructed them on.

It only made her needier, made her body softer as she relaxed into her husband's hold. Her fingers played with the large hand on her belly as an inaudible sigh left the man behind her. His member twitching in interest and leaking as he felt her velvet inside begin to flutter at the thoughts in her mind.

"Thinking of something pleasant little one?" He groaned, feeling his body slowly losing its grip on the control he had as he placed the paper he had down.

He had long ago stopped focusing on the many piles of papers on his desk, too busy being enamored by her wet heat that suckled on him. In honesty, he couldn't help that he enjoyed how she submitted to his more sadistic nature and teasing tendencies when it came to her. The control she allowed him over her was something he craved and enjoyed as in life you were either doing the controlling or being controlled and he quite preferred the former.

"Mmm you Richard, always you my love. My darling husband, my protector, my everything." Her words came out as a dreamy slur as her brain became hazy from the prolonged waves of pleasure that had not yet been allowed to reach its peak.

"My what a good and patient little wife you've been for me," he whispered, moving his hips a little and causing her to keen softly at the simulation of her insides that fully reawakened in an instant. "Keeping me warm, and thinking of me the entire time. How sweet you are. So sweet that I believe you are owed a reward. Would you like that my love?"

"Yes please sir," she begged sweetly, turning her upper body and looking at his cloudy eyes with her own lust filled eyes, "please I've been good and still for you my darling please."

A gentle smirk grew on his thin lips as he leaned down and pressed them against her own, his hands going to dig their fingers into her side causing her to whine into the kiss at the electricity that shot up her spine.

"Indeed you have been very good," he hummed, pulling away from her face, "and I shall give you your reward."

No sooner had the words left his lips, [Y/n] found her hips being guided off of his cock only for him to pull her back down on his lap with such force that her entire body tensed and a loud shout was forced past her lips as his cock slammed deep inside her.

"Yes oh Richard my love yes!" She sobbed loudly as he guided her up and down his slick shaft. 

His prick was wet with both of their arousals as the wet sounds of their flesh smacking against each other echoed around the room without resistance.

"Such a wonderful little wife I have," Turpin groaned into her ear as he lifted his hips up to meet her as she slid down his cock causing him to hit that spot deep inside her over and over. "So good for me, so obedient for me."

Her body writhe in pleasure as her mouth went slack and her upper body fell forward grabbing onto the edge of the desk as she allowed herself to be opened and explored by her husband. A guttural growl rumbled through his chest at her display and his hips stuttered only for a second before he was getting out of his seat and pressing her against his desk, his body laying on top of her as he began to piston himself inside of her.

Wails and sobs left her lips and it was music to his ears as his cock pulsed and began to leak seed into her. The feeling of having his thick body laid upon her and rewarding her sent her into a tizzy as she pushed her hips back to meet his thrusts each time.

Having him cage her in made her feel safe, and loved. Cared for, desired and it sent a rush of warmth into her belly that she couldn't stop as she began to gush around him.

"Oh Ri-Richard!" She breathlessly squeaked out as her body began to spasm uncontrollably. 

The sloshing of her cunt increased in volume as he began to pound into her faster, feeling his own release approaching as her insides squeezed him over and over until,

"Darling," he hissed out, hips stuttering as cock began to spill inside of her. Hot pulses of his seed spurted out and drowned her cunt with his release.

The warm feeling of him emptying himself into her and burying himself deep was all [Y/n] needed as she herself felt her body go absolutely limp as she released the arousal that had been building up inside of her.

Her fingers gripped the desk and her legs shook as she spilled around her husband moaning an elongated and breathless,

"Sir~." As her upper body lay smushed against the desk with the weight of the man on top of her.

It was oddly comfortable, well to her it was having him and his spend inside her while he covered her body with those strong thick limbs of his. Yet it was taken away much too soon for her liking as her husband slipped out of her with a slick noise. A little moan left her as the thick shaft stimulated her sensitive folds on its way out.

A kiss was placed on her damp neck as she lay bent over, the sound of fabric being straightened before Richard was helping her upright herself.  She couldn't help the dazed smile that was on her lips as he turned her to him. His gray locks were messy and along with his disheveled clothes there would be no guessing what had just happened between the two if any of the housekeepers were to walk in.

Yet she didn't care about that as she wrapped her arms around his shoulder and pulled him down so that their lips could meet once more and she could taste the salt on them.

No, all she could care about was the satisfaction running through her veins as he indulged her in a deep kiss, their tongues lazily dancing with each other as his arms came around her waist to hold her close.

A/N: I wrote this in like a span of two days I think which might not be a lot of some but it is for me haha! And also about the lil '*' if anyone saw that haha. Apparently cunt stretcher was a word back in the day and i was like oh yeah Turpin would use that / i'm sure it would accurate to describe him like that so I did :)

Anyways I hope that was a good time for you all please do leave words of thirst if you enjoyed it haha!

Also tagging @clowns-in-the-night as a reminder haha!

[pricetagged]

butcher paper

Here's a young (maybe 19-early 20s) Simon struggling with his emotions, working as a butcher's apprentice, and fixating on the pretty student waitress at the café next door (':

Content: plus size f-presenting reader; allusions to domestic abuse (Simon's past); fat-shaming (not Simon); little bit of violence, unedited. (Link to Ao3)

He's not sure that it counts as desire. Interest. It crawls over him, makes him feel aggressive, makes him want to dig his teeth in and shake and snarl.

It's hunger.

And he knows hunger. Knows it like he knows the cigarette burns on the back of his hand. Knows it like he knows his old man's a waste of space and that he has to defend his mum and protect Tommy and- and-

He's the man of the house, only the house is rotten. Woodloused frames, crumbling bricks. Gutted. Empty shelves hidden behind broken doors. Chipped plaster, electricity cutting off. Squeaky steps that always clued them in when the old man was on a rager (not that it helped, creaking out a warning but giving no clue where to run. The percussion leading to a gallows' jig; the heavy step before the hit).

But the old man's gone now. And Simon is left trying to fill in the boots he doesn’t know how to wear. All growth spurt and gangly limbs and anger. So much anger at the old bastard. Tear-soaked anger at his mum sometimes (buried deep behind the shame that he feels when he thinks of her black and blue. Anger and shame, bitter roots that he chews at to soothe the clench of in his jaw and the grind of his teeth). And then he sees you through the window. Through the peeling CHRISTMAS SPECIAL sign highlighting ham joints and turkey and pigs in blankets.

You're so soft.

You look like you’ve lived a life well-fed and well-loved. Something round and sweet and helpless, like the puppies he and Tommy had seen dumped in the park while they snuck cigarettes and swigged from cheap supermarket cider.

And that brings him back to the hunger. He's an awkward creature, shuffling to the café where you work part-time. He's more feeling than man, all rage and appetite stuffed into a skin suit. You sense it too, nerves tugging at the tilt of your smile as you approach the scavenger that swept in to sit at the cheap plastic tables in this greasy spoon. He sits awkwardly, too, hunched over the table like his stomach is gnawing at him. Big hands snapping the disposable plastic coffee stirrers and shredding the napkins. That first day, he just stares at you. Sneers a little when you flutter over to take his order.

You slosh the tea a little when you serve it.

He sees the burn bloom, watches as you suck at the sting with plump cheeks and a rosy little mouth, and he just wants to dig in and scratch hard to see you do that again.

It becomes a habit, watching you. He finds out bits and pieces listening as he rends and chops and saws through muscle and bone, stinking of sweat and iron. You're here as a student. You're living in student digs (good, best that you avoid the up-and-downs and rough streets that would fit a student budget), and you're a real sweetheart. Old Sal who has been running the café for the past 30 years leans a heavy elbow on the display counter as he chats with the boss.

"She's lovely, taken to it like a fish to water," his raspy, smoke-charred voice is cheery as he waits for the bacon and sausages to be weighed and wrapped. "Only asked for Thursdays and Fridays off since she has afternoon classes then. Otherwise, I almost have to round her out of the shop, doing more afternoons and weekends than my own kid."

You're hardworking too, then. He wonders if it's because you're hungry too, needing something to do with your time, living on pot noodles and supermarket ready-meals like he'd heard some students do. It's strange how that thought sits uncomfortably, makes him want to hunch over you and bring you his scraps.

That week, he decides to talk to you. Only the words get caught, don't come out quite right as he stares at the way your jumper clings to the soft curves under your faded apron. When you turn around, bustling to other customers, he can't help but stare at the line of your skirt. It's real pretty, decent, sitting just above your knees but Christ, he wishes that it would roll up a little higher. That it would catch on the corner of a table or hitch up as you raise your arms and swish past with a tray full of fry-ups. He almost gets lucky as you bend over to mop up a spill just across the room. Your thighs widen as they press against the table, tights stretching thin and sheer and he just can't tear his eyes away-

(The hunger in his stomach turns hot and biting, makes his cheeks flush and his mouth dry-)

But it's ruined. Fly in the soup, hair in the dish, as you catch him and your eyebrows pinch together as you look away. There's something guarded, bitter, in your lovely eyes, and the dryness in his mouth turns wet and sour. You seem to take pains to avoid him, swapping out with Sal's son so that you can work the counter instead of the floor.

"'m Simon," he grunts as he goes to settle the bill. "Work at the butcher's across the street."

You clearly didn’t expect an introduction, shoulders relaxing and hesitant smile blooming as you give your name in return.

"Yeah, I know. Sal mentioned you a few times. He's tried to give me the rundown of practically everyone on the street, feels like."

"Y'should come in t'the shop," the invitation rushes out in a way that makes him feel clumsy. Perhaps that’s why he did it; to have you in his space, with his head and his footing right. Here, he feels every inch the artificial man. Pieced together, too big and too looming, with no help or guidance on how to talk to soft things and pretty girls.

You grimace a little, eyes focused on the till as you count out his change. "Not really on a butcher-shop budget right now."

"'S'alright. I can keep something aside for ya," he doesn't mention how it would come out of his wages. How it would come out of what he brought home to his mum and Tommy. It didn't matter, though, when he was used to going without.

"That's - that's really nice, actually," Your sweet face is glowing now, and he feels like he could bathe in the warmth of it. "Next time you come by lunch is on me."

He sees the way you tuck your chin and smile as he walks away, and that bottomless pit in his guts feels just a little more full.

(He doesn't quite catch the snickers of the boys at table three, whispering and nudging each other as you come to take their orders. This time.)

He stares more and more through the window of the shop, watching as you come and go. Watching the way you greet the regulars and skirt around the group of lads who like to linger in the evenings. There's something sharp, nasty, to the way they circle around the entrance. The way they cackle and hoot when the one with the eyebrow piercing smirks and whispers to his mates as they force you to brush past. They're a pack of hyenas, shrieking and smug as they toy with the poor little thing that's walked past their watering hole. He's seen this type before, practically grew up with them. His old man was probably one of them, perfecting his cruelty while young, cementing it as part of his nature.

It has Simon sharpening his knives while he grits his teeth. Has the boss tutting at him when he cuts too close to the bone.

He knows there's something violent in him. The old man tried to bring it out then snuff it out, getting scared when the knife that he sharpened was able to cut him in return. He's no stranger to bloodshed. No stranger to the calloused, deprivation-dimmed apathy that breeds like algae in the environment where he was forged. Dripping, slimy, suffocating.

Doesn't mean he likes it, though.

(He'd gone back for those puppies, you know. Felt wrong leaving them. Felt like a rebellion against his old man's sick life lessons as he dumped the box outside the doors of a local veterinary clinic).

So he keeps his eyes peeled, stakes out the café like he owns it. Stares down anyone who looks at you wrong until they look away, muttering under their breath. 'Fucking freaky dead-eyed git.' It seems to work.

And you seem to like it, sparing more smiles for him. Bringing him bigger portions than normal and topping up his cup before he even needs to ask.

"I know you've been working since seven, Simon. Gotta keep your strength up," You seem bashful as you slide the plate across, and he just eats it up.

You've been looking at him, thinking about him. It's not something he's familiar with, having someone care for him. His mum loves him, of course. Tommy too. But it’s not the same, not when it's been his job to take care of them. His job to step up to the mantle and into the shoes that his father should've filled. Watching the sway of your wide hips as he tucks into the steak and kidney pie with gusto, he feels satisfied. The hunger is there, always is, but it's not gouging at him under the skin. It's satiated, pleased. The kind of comfort that leaves his eyes heavy and his belly warm.

It's a routine you fall into, and everything is rosy-

Until it's not.

He's closing up shop, wiping down the counters and getting ready to haul down the shutters when he sees them. Those stupid pricks, travelling in their pack and signaling that their quarry is in sight. Look, there it is alone and limping and- You're in a rush, leaving later than usual and shrugging your coat on carelessly as you shout your goodbyes to Sal. You're in that skirt again, the one that makes his lower belly tighten and mouth feel dry.

"Oi, look! Dirty scrubber has her fat arse hanging out!"

It sets them off, chittering and howling as you freeze wide-eyed and lip-quivering.

"Gonna be sick, mate. Don't want to see your knickers, love. Didn't even know they came in that size."

He doesn't even see red. Doesn't see anything but your pretty, round face crumpling as you try to tug your skirt out from where it got caught under your coat.

The ringing of the bell by the door muffles the sound of the first punch. His fist crunches into that prick's nose, and he wants nothing more than to keep going until his face is little more than meat and pulp and blood. He can taste it, smells the blood in the air like a shark.

But you're watching.

"Bit bored with y'taking the piss out of her," he snarls it as he hauls the man by his jacket, shoving him hard against the wall until his head thwacks against the bricks. Easy as hauling a side of beef. "Why don't ya try me next?"

The man seems dazed, head spinning and nose dripping. His mates, too, look floored. Ready to scatter and abandon their leader to the bigger beast. Only the promise of more blood keeps them watching, feeds their nasty appetites and he's just itching to let them see. Watch what happens; it's coming for you next.

"Speechless now, eh? Had so much to say earlier," he's spitting the words out, teeth snapping as he leans down so close to the man's face that he can see how his pupils constrict. "Apologise."

And he's smarter than he would give him credit for. Smart enough to whimper out his 'sorry, sorry, sorry' as he drops to the filthy, damp pavement when Simon swivels towards the others. Something about the set of his shoulders, the way his hands and apron are splattered with the gore of man and animal, has them scattering.

"That goes for the rest of ya! Don't ever want t'see your ugly fucking mugs around here again," he spits on the ground, itches at his jaw with his wrist as he watches them run.

He can't hear them anymore. Can't hear anything over the sound of his heavy panting and pounding heartbeat.

It's cold out. He's only realising it now, standing in the December chill with just an apron over his jeans and t-shirt. It has him shaking, flexing his hand as his knuckles start to sting and swell. He welcomes it, welcomes the familiar bite as he pushes down the savage, ragged anger rippling through his chest.

"Simon-"

"Y'alright?" he cuts you off, faces you head-on.

And all the rage saps out. You're not cowering away. There's no disgust on your face. No tears or embarrassment either, no. You've got a crumpled packet of wet wipes in your hand, reaching out for him. Concerned.

"Figure you'd want to get that prick's blood off you soon as possible," you give him a sad little half-smile. "Didn't have to do all that for me, Simon."

"Yeah, didn't have to." He concedes as he steps closer to you. Crowds into your space until you're toe-to-toe and he can feel your warmth. He brushes his fingers against yours, lets them linger on your soft skin as he reaches for the wipes. "I wanted to."

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

Let's all pretend that this was okay and ignore the fact that I still haven't posted the wips that I keep going on about 🫠💖

Just a little self-indulgent drabble idea that I had today, thinking back to watching 'My Mad Fat Diary' as a teenager, feeling nostalgic ~ (The Finn-defending-Rae scene had 18yo me in a chokehold lol).

[starry-bi-sky]

im dedicating this to @detectivedarling. i felt inspired after seeing their little ficlet yesterday sadhjfl 🫶

-

Danny's grip on his cane tightens.

"What—"

His voice cracks. He stops, clears it, then tries again in spite of the nausea twisting in his gut. "What are — you, uh, watching, Bruce?" He sounds horribly far away.

Bruce doesn't look at him, his attention laser-focused on the screen. Which is— fine. It's usually not a problem, Bruce gets like that when he hyper-focuses on a case, and unless it's urgent — or he's been at it for hours — Danny sees no need to pull him away from it. He likes the quiet camaraderie they have, it's companionable and unique to the two of them.

He wishes he was right now though. Looking at him, that is.

That way he wasn't watching what was clearly one of Danny's ghost fights. One of the nastier ones, if the collateral damage and rubble on the street is of any indication.

Danny tries to remember which one that is. He shuffles a little closer to the desk, ignoring the rock in his stomach or the ugly weightlessness in his arms. It's not the blood blossoms, that much he knows. He just recently had an injection so it shouldn't be bothering him this soon—

So it's just nerves. Perfect.

Most footage of his fights are— messy, at best. Unusable at worst. Amity Park was obsessed with appearing 'normal' when they first started happening, and typical news stations censor the worst of the fights anyways for publishing, since they can get pretty gory at times. And ghosts move too fast to be caught on regular standard cameras, not including distance and light and—

That is to say— finding usable ghost fight videos is hard.

Danny wonders how Bruce got his hands on this one, and then stops wondering.

The audio is muted, which is - good. Good, because the fight is ugly and chaotic and clearly this was taken on someone's phone. Fuck, he can't remember if he ever saw that before — clearly not. They're hiding behind an overturned car, and Danny grits his teeth so he doesn't tell that idiot to run.

The camera turns up, and focuses on two figures in the air. It takes a few seconds, but when it does, Danny gets hit with a wave of vertigo. His grip tightens and he leans heavily on his cane, he waits for the black dots to disappear.

He- uh, he remembers this fight now. Uh, sort of.

He remembers being twelve at the time, and he remembers some of the injuries he got out of it. His eyelid spasms abruptly. This ghost wasn't one of his regulars, so he doesn't remember whatever name they had, barely remembered what they looked like up until- uh. Now.

Was he always that small? Well— Phantom's never been particularly big, perks of being a dead kid, but— it's - different. Seeing it from an outsider perspective. Was he that small? Or is it just because he's wearing a jumpsuit clearly too big for him that casts the illusion of being small?

Doesn't really - matter. Now. He can't access his ghost form, and he already knows the answers to his appearance.

Phantom is clearly bleeding, viscous and violently green like the bubbles of a lava lamp, clutching onto a limp shoulder that's missing an arm from the elbow down. Half his face is drenched in similar blood, the eye on the drenched side is closed — not because he can't see through the ectoplasm.

Danny's memories of that fight slowly come in a bit clearer. Right. He took a pole to the eye in that one. That had - hurt. A lot. Getting an eye gouged out usually does. It and the missing arm took hours to grow back.

He rubs his eye with his palm for no other reason than it itches.

The other ghost isn't untouched of any injury either, but he's not in a state of dismemberment like Phantom is.

Danny drops his gaze down at Bruce, whose sitting in his chair with his hands threaded together, looking so tense that Danny half expects to meet solid steel if he were to touch his back. His face is - blank. Terribly blank, with an intensity in his eyes that Danny doesn't see often.

He looks terribly distressed.

He opens his mouth, and finds that nothing comes out. His throat is thick with an ugly, tar-like feeling that makes his eyes sting. Kinda reminds him of when someone wraps their hands around your throat and presses. He closes his mouth, then tries again.

"B—" hhhhhh, "Buzz."

Finally Bruce looks at him, one hand slaps the space button on the keyboard, and the video pauses. His expression doesn't shift, but there's a weight in the lines of his face that reminds Danny of a set of weights sagging.

He looks quite like he's grieving something.

Bruce opens his mouth, his voice comes out terribly soft and heartbroken: "He looks like you."

Which is— a terrifying sentence in and of itself. One that makes Danny's legs shake and ignite his ragged, poison-chewed nerves alight with the need to run. An instinctive urge to deny, deny, deny.

How could he? He could say, that's a ghost, Bruce. I'm not a ghost. He could crack a joke, and ask, 'do I look dead to you?' or say something about how he knows that his parents studied ghosts, but that didn't make him one.

He could say that, and he could say it knowing full well that Bruce would see right through it. He'd probably let Danny too.

Danny closes his eyes. They sting, you see? So does his nose, right in the back like someone popped him in the face. And his throat is thick and gross and like someone stuck a spider, the big fat tarantula kind, right down into his esophagus.

He breathes in — through his mouth, because his nose stings and so it'd be best not to irritate it further with air — and it's terribly shaky and uneven. But it clears a pathway to his lungs big enough for him to say — whisper, really:

"You know, I think you're the first person to notice that."

[leashybebes]

sentences saturday

tagged by @beanarie, thank you pal. passing on the tag to @hyperfocusthusly, @setmeatopthepyre, @ambernotember, @trombonechurchill and @rcmclachlan

here's a first look at what i think is going to be my main summer project. fair warning, this section is fully go girl give us nothing, but i am very excited

fic manifesto: There was no universe, anywhere, where an Evan Buckley would give in on this, because if he did he wouldn't be Evan Buckley anymore.

Buck loves the silicone ring he has to wear at work.

He didn't think he would, at first. Thought he'd resent taking his real ring off so often, being apart from it, going a single minute without the engraving on the inside pressed against his skin. Turns out, he loves it. He could just go without any ring for the duration of his shifts - Hen usually does, Bobby sometimes did - but he likes how deliberate it is.

He takes his ring off at the start of his shift, stashes it in his locker and replaces it with the black silicone band. At the end of the shift he switches them over again, every time without fail. He never wants to look at his left hand and not see Tommy's ring. He never wants someone to see his hands and not know he's married. That someone chose him and he chose them right back.

He slides the silicone ring onto his finger, swings his locker door shut and looks over at where Eddie is scrolling on his phone. He looks a little squirrely about it, but he'd turned down the offered plus one to the wedding. They all have their suspicions about it though and Buck stretches, angles his head to try to sneak a look at the screen. He thinks he's fairly subtle, but the screen goes dark almost immediately and Eddie flips him the bird.

"Aw, c'mon," Buck says. "Let me be a gossipy old man."

"You've been married five minutes - "

Five weeks, two days, four hours, give or take, Buck thinks.

" - do you really already need something to talk about that bad?"

"Sure," Buck says. "You're our number one topic of conversation."

Eddie rolls his eyes and stands up.

"Mind your business," he says, hip checking Buck on his way towards the stairs. He has to side step where Ravi is talking earnestly with the new probie, and again where Chim is talking on the phone.

Buck rolls his eyes, sends Tommy a good morning text, and heads out to start the day.

[todayintokyo]

Early-blooming Kawazu-zakura at Sakura Jingū in Sakurashinmachi, Tokyo. The manga artist Machiko Hasegawa—one of the first women in the profession—lived in this neighbourhood, and her story Sazae-san is set here. That explains the last picture.

[kizzer55555]

Super Dead Soulmates

In this universe, any injury or scar you sustain appears on your soulmate. However, for as long as he could remember, Danny never gained an injury that wasn’t his own. When he was very young, his parents would always say that he was just a late bloomer and perhaps his soulmate was a few years younger than he was and thus, just wasn’t born yet. As Danny grew older, they got more absorbed in their work and just seemed to forget about the whole ordeal. Danny never asked them about it again, afraid they might think a ghost had ‘cursed’ him or something. It was hard enough to hide the lack of additional scars at school. Luckily, most people don’t get injured very often so it was easy enough to play off some of his injuries as that from a soulmate. The only ones who knew the truth were his sister and his best friends. Danny was just convinced that he didn’t have a soulmate and had accepted that fact, even if it hurt. Then the accident happened and for once, he was thankful his soulmate wouldn’t have to feel his pain. And even more so when he started to fight the other ghosts daily. Danny was content to live like this, but with more ghost fights, his injuries started piling up. Danny excused them saying that they were from his soulmate. It didn’t completely get rid of the scrutiny but most people bought it. Afterall, how else would puny Fenton get those kinds of bruises? So for a while, that excuse worked…until someone realized that Danny and Phantom’s injuries linked up (I vote Wes). Now normally, the natural conclusion would be that Danny and Phantom were the same person. But due to the fact that one of them was dead and the other clearly alive, everyone gained a new theory…that Phantom was Danny’s soulmate. It would explain the recent injuries as Phantom was often seen fighting other ghosts. And to be honest, this was the perfect cover. It’s not like Danny had an actual soulmate who might show up and this added another layer of protection against people thinking he and Phantom were the same person. So Danny remained silent and let the rumors grow. Sure people now thought he and Phantom were dating but that was fiiiiiinnnneee. (But BOY was that an awkward conversation with his parents). 

And then Kon was born.

As a clone, all he knew from the outside was implanted into his mind. He knew the color of the sky, the sound of music, academic equations and a lot of common knowledge such as soulmates. He knew that injuries were shared between a bonded pair and that everyone had a soulmate. But he was different. He wasn't born a baby and grew up alongside another person. He wasn’t even real according to some people. Yet one day, he noticed bruises lining his arms, he was confused. He should have had impenetrable skin like Superman. As far as he could remember, his skin had never been pierced before. And it’s not like he fought a godlike being that day. He shouldn’t have any injuries. Kon decided to ignore them but the injuries kept showing up. It got so bad that his team started to notice and sat him down asking if everything was alright with his powers or if he was exposed to kryptonite somehow. So, very confused, Kon had explained that the injuries just kept showing up. It was only after his team gave him a curious look and explained the concepts of soulmates did everything click with him. Sure, Kon knew about soulmates but surely that couldn't be what this was! He was a clone! He shouldn’t have a soulmate. It was impossible! But after a few more days of observation and a bit of testing, everyone determined that this was, in fact, a soulmate bond. 

To say Kon was ecstatic was an understatement. Actually, it was a mix of excitement, nervousness, worry, and joy all rolled into one. He was elated at the idea that he had someone meant for him. Someone who would accept all of him. Kon had looked at the others and there had always been a slight jealousy when he saw a paper cut bloom on their fingers or see them rub a bruised knee fondly. 

But more than anything. He was happy because this was proof that he was real. Afterall, a soulmate wouldn’t match with him unless his soul was equal to theirs. His body almost melted with relief at that realization. A weight off his shoulders he never fully grasped was still there. 

Of course there was the worry of why exactly his soulmate had so many injuries. For a hero, it was obvious they would get injured (although they tried to have as much protective padding as possible to limit that possibility. But some injuries still got through.) Yet the amount of injuries Kon’s soulmate sustained were far more than that (because Danny lacked proper padding  and didn’t think he had to worry about a soulmate. Most injuries looked worse than they were anyways due to his fast healing). And on the contrary, Kon’s skin was perfectly clear. With his kryptonian biology, even if he got hurt, it never left a mark. So all the injuries and bruises sustained on him were purely from his soulmate. And there was enough for two people. On the bright side, it helped with his cover, on the downside, Kon started to worry about his soulmate. (Meanwhile, Danny didn’t notice a difference. Sure, sometimes he would feel a temporary ache or sharp pain but no mark was left so he just assumed the pain was sore muscles from a previous battle or that one of his rogues were hitting harder than he thought.) 

As for Kon, he and his team used every resource at their disposal to try and track down Kon’s soulmate. They did this for every member of the team as hero soulmates were in more danger than most but they paid special attention to Kon’s soulmate due to the rapid accumulation of injuries. 

Kon would fantasize on what his soulmate would be like. Would they be tall? Short? They would probably be able to fight. Boy or girl? It doesn't really matter. Kon knew opposite gender soulmates were more common but he wouldn’t mind a guy either. His days were filled with dreams of a mystery person. Someone he could hold in his arms and protect. Who would comfort him after patrols and who he could introduce to his friends. 

After a while, Tim finally found a lead. Some doctor records of a boy in a small town called Amity. Apparently he was prescribed pain medicine to help with ‘soulmate injuries’. The lost of injuries were extensive and after looking at some pictures, they realized that his scars and Kon’s scars lined up. A perfect match. So it wasn’t long before they made a quick road trip to Amity. 

This place was already on the Justice League radar. It was a town that appears to have a permanent portal to the afterlife and was attacked often. (Which might explain why Kon’s soulmate was so injured). The Justice League had not interfered yet because the town had a local hero as well. Someone who seemed good at his job and who Tim was even thinking of recruiting. So this was a good opportunity to hit two birds with one stone. Afterall, not much was known about this mysterious Phantom other than he dedicated his afterlife to protecting this one town. Once they got to Amity they would probably need to check in with Phantom before anything. And despite his impatience with finding the person who might be his soulmate, even Kon was excited to meet this hero. Apparently Phantom had vast experience but also a major power set. He might gain another flying buddy or someone he could wrestle with without worrying about his strength. Afterall, Phantom also supposedly had super strength and even if he didn’t, it’s not like you can kill a ghost. Yet no matter how hard they looked, they couldn’t find him. It was only by coincidence that they stumbled upon Danny instead and his group of friends. 

The first time Kon saw Danny, it was like coming home. He wanted to do nothing more than rush to his soulmate and hug him and vow to always keep him safe. He wanted to prove that he would be the best soulmate ever and he wanted to know everything there was to know about him. He was practically vibrating where he stood in his civilian disguise and it was only his friends that held him back from flying over and surprising the poor boy.

But before he could do anything, a ghost attacked. Kon barely had enough time to grab his friends and dodge when some kind of glowing creature crashed into a building. And while normally he would immediately find somewhere to change, Kon’s first instinct was to check on his soulmate, only to see the two people he assumed to be the boy’s friends but no sign of Danny. Frantically looking around, he didn’t notice the glowing creature behind him (was that a dragon?) but before it could reach him, another glowing figure intercepted the attack. They looked almost ethereal with white hair softly floating in the air and a suit that hugged his muscled form tightly. The figure turned around and gave a sheepish smile towards Kon. “You ok?”

And it felt like for the second time that day, Kon was rendered breathless. 

Someone was protecting him.

Someone was protecting him?

Yet it felt…nice. Warm.

Before Kon could gather his thoughts though the battle picked up in earnest. He and his team found cover and changed into their suits. When they came to help, the person Kon assumed to be Phantom looked surprised at their sudden appearance but it wasn’t long before he and everyone else started working together. Unfortunately, actually fighting the ghost seemed to be impossible. Whenever they got close, their hits just passed right through so Phantom quickly regulated them on defense and citizen protection duty. Occasionally getting a hit in when the creature was tangible. Watching Phantom fight was something. Kon could understand why he was elected to join their team. He had this sort of grace and power that couldn’t be explained in words but was clearly from the experience of many battles.

Despite not being able to do much, fighting with Phantom was fun. They seemed to be completely in sync and it wasn’t long before Kon started to enjoy his loud commentary and puns as the two ghosts fought.

However, one particularly hard hit made it so that the dragon’s claws grazed his chest. Leaving three shallow gashes, but Phantom took the close proximity that attack gave him and sucked the creature into…a soup thermos?

But Kon wasn’t focused on that. He was wholly focused on the stinging pain suddenly coming from his chest, underneath his untouched uniform that clearly had not been hit. Kon didn’t know how to process what was happening. Everything suddenly became louder and he vaguely tried to move but it was like his mind became mush as he tried to process what that meant. He managed to get away for a bit and undid his shit, looking down to see three shallow scratches along his chest. Scratches that perfectly mirrored Phantom. In the corner of his eye, Kon saw a head of black hair and witnessed as Danny reunited with his two friends he had been separated from in the chaos. And as Danny twisted to hug them, his shirt flipped up enough to see another identical 3 scratches along the boy's stomach. Perfectly mirroring Phantoms. 

It was only later that Kon and his team did some more research on the town and it’s ghosts and learned the unofficial secret that Phantom and Danny were dating. That Phantom had Likely come back from the afterlife to protect the town his soulmate lived in. On the bright side, at least now he could confirm Danny really was his soulmate. And he knew where all those injuries were coming from.

Kon had found his soulmate.

Correction, he found his soumates

And they were already bonded to each other.

…

….so where did that leave him?

There are now two options. 

1: Kon decided that he just needs to woo both his soulmates and starts doing so both as Superboy and as Conner. Danny is very confused who these people are (because as far as he knows, he doesn’t have a soulmate, and since Kon doesn’t visibly show injury, there is no sign (unless Danny somehow injures himself in a place that is visible but he’s been trying to avoid that to make everyone worry less.)). Kon goes all out. He gets flowers, chocolates, writes poetry (whether good or not doesn’t matter) starts wooing Phantom in hero form, showing off his strength and skill whenever possible. (And unfortunately, also his dork side when he isn’t paying attention while flying) Asking to hang out, insist on paying for everything. Danny sees this tall Hunk who is paying attention to him and he doesn’t know what to do. And there are TWO OF THEM! (Also, in this version it might be funny if people suspect Danny and Phantom are dating but don’t know for sure and since they are never around each other, people might assume they just don’t know. So Sam, Tucker, and Jazz are all for Danny possibly starting a relationship with Kon along with Kon’s team who are cheering them on and trying to help the poor clone boy who has no experience with romance. Meanwhile literally everyone else in the town who likes Phantom is trying to run interference and get Danny and their hero together. 

2: The angst option. Kon decides that the fact that he has two soulmates who are together is likely a result of him being a clone. It’s not that he had someone waiting for him (how could he think someone was waiting their whole life just for him? How stupid was he?!) Kon had just hijacked a different bond. So he tries to stay away. Unfortunately, Tim had talked with Phantom while Kon was out of it so now they have started to team up. This makes avoiding him very difficult as he keeps running into Phantom. Moreover, he runs into Danny because they need him for the ghost hunting equipment. And slowly but surely, Kon falls in love with ‘both’ his soulmates but doesn’t want to get ‘between’ them. And Danny wants to know why one of his new teammates is avoiding him.

[airenaiy]

Maybe cause he is 🤡

Check out my ccard for art commissions as they’re currently open right now 😚✨

[snowblossomreads]

Sunlight

Summary: In where Severus receives a small yet lovely gift from his wife on his birthday.

Pairing: Severus Snape x FemReader

Tags(s)/Warnings: Oral (Male Receiving) and Fluff

Word Count: 2.2K

A/N: And in a non-unhinged Snape story ^_^! Look I know his bday isn't till January but if you believe, his bday can be every day LOL. This lil short was inspired by a rare wholesome idea that me and @deepperplexity chatted about (love you dear 🥰🥰🥰)

Of course, though I had to add something spicy into it bc well you know me.. Anyways please enjoy and let me know how you like it!

There had been some sort of mild surprise when Severus had awakened on his 70th birthday to find that his hair, once an intermingling of black and white strands had turned fully white seemingly overnight.

The change hadn’t been immediately noticed well because honestly, he had been more interested in the more pleasurable way he was being woken up. Which was with the lips of his wife wrapped deliciously tight around his cock as she enthusiastically mouthed at his hardened shaft before she was taking him into her mouth with fervor.

Even though he had been fast asleep just moments ago, this was more than enough to fully wake him in both senses as his hand trailed down and his fingers looked for [Y/n].

His hand was met with her own as she gave it a little squeeze before she was coming up for air, the hungry look in her eyes was barely visible due to the lack of lighting from the curtains still being drawn.

“Good morning,” she purred before she was leaning back down and sucking at the tip of his cock, tongue swirling in his leaking slit and lapping his seed up right before taking him almost completely in her mouth in one go.

A loud groan filled the air of the dimly lit room as his hips canted upwards burying his cock deeper down her throat from the sudden burst of pleasure that flooded his veins. His head fell back against the pillows as she held his hand, his thumb stroking the top of her hand as she continued.

“Oh my love that’s it, use that wonderful mouth of yours. So beautiful,” he panted as he felt himself already close to release.

She moaned a noise of contentment at the praise as she raked her nails lightly against his thigh, feeling the quiver of his muscles as she swallowed around him enjoying his noises of pleasure.  He wasn’t going to last long as he felt his cock begin to throb incessantly at the attention it was receiving from his wife and it wasn’t before long that his fingers were tightening around the bed sheets as his limbs began to tremble and stiffen at the impending orgasm. 

A few more well-time sucks here, another languid lick there and [Y/n]’s mouth was being filled with a salty liquid that she greedily drank as Severus shouted her name before letting out a prolonged moan as he emptied himself in her mouth.

Once she was sure she had lapped everything up, she gave his cock one last gentle squeeze and a kiss, causing Severus to shiver as he ran his fingers through his hair, groaning quietly at his morning call.

“Happy birthday to you~,” [Y/n] sang playfully as she crawled up towards him, damp lips pressing against his softly and letting out a faint sigh as he kissed her slowly, the taste of his spend still lingering as he did so.

Fingers stroked her bare hips as their lips languidly met each others. Little rumbles came from Severus' chest as [Y/n] would nip his bottom lip playfully, and quiet squeaks left her own lips when he would bite back. 

It wasn’t before long she was letting out a giggle as she pulled away from him causing him to arch an eyebrow as she shimmed out of his hold and out of bed her body still on display.

“[Y/n]?”

“Meet me in the kitchen in twenty!” Was all she responded with as she grabbed her robe that had been tossed haphazardly on top of a chair from the night before. Wrapping it around her and securing it she turned and gave him a wink as she scampered out of the room, a soft tune being hummed from her lips.

By the time she was already out of earshot, Severus couldn’t help but let out a chuckle as he ran his fingers through his hair. Head flopping back down into the pillow as he let the buzz in his body calm.

Almost exactly after twenty minutes passed he did appear in the kitchen, hair still a mess and a bit of sleep still in his eyes as he was more interested in what [Y/n] was up to.  And that’s where the change would be noticed as he saw the twinkling awe in [Y/n]’s eyes as she placed the last plate down on a beautifully decorated table and came up to him when he entered the kitchen. 

At first, he was confused as she stared at him as a child would at their new toy. Mouth slightly agape in a smile, eyes wide as she went to play with a few loose strands that were in his face before she whispered in a barely contained amazement,

“Severus your hair! It's gorgeous!”

Not having glanced at himself in the mirror when he woke up, as he had gone to find [Y/n] after her wake-up call he was of course even more puzzled as she continued to play with his hair, a squee leaving her as she pecked his lips.

“Ohh! Happy birthday, darling but I think the lucky one is me today! Merlin, Severus I never thought you could become even more handsome but I was wrong!”

“Love what are you talking about my hair is the same as yesterday albeit less combed considering the early present you decided to give me.”

Her smile instantly grew at his words before she let a raucous laughter burst from her lips while she also tried to speak.

“Well I'm sorry dear I had to get breakfast ready for you but also the same? Severus! Did you not even look in the mirror yet? Unless you’ve been using the color change charm on your hair all these years then I suggest you take a peak.”

Now this had him frowning as [Y/n] gently nudged him back in the opposite direction as he was still utterly perplexed at what she had said.

Her tinkling laughter was still audible as he padded into the hallway, making a beeline for the bathroom to see what in the world she was talking about.

However, when he did finally see what she was going on about he had to say that he was slightly taken aback about the sudden color change, due to it being...well sudden of course. One day there was just a light smattering of white strands in his mostly dark hair that he would fuss about whenever he saw more of them show up. 

But now that it was just white as snow, he was surprised that he wasn’t more annoyed by it than before. There was a simple acceptance of it. He didn’t allow himself to ponder it much longer as he went back to join [Y/n] in the kitchen and a bright smile on her face as he came to join her at the table.

They ate, basked in each other’s presence, chatted about the plans for the day, and finally when finished [Y/n] happily gave him a beautifully wrapped present that contained an assortment of rare potion ingredients that she had been able to get imported for him.

"That’s not all though!” He remembered her preening at him, the soft crow’s feet in the corners of her eyes visible as she smiled brightly warming him in every way as she pulled away from the hug he had engulfed her in and opening her palm to show him what she was holding.

A deep purple piece of satin was in her hand that seemed to gleam in the morning light that streamed through the windows and danced on the walls.

“Oh and what is this for?”

“Don’t be silly Severus, you know exactly what this is for. How many times have I seen you fuss at your hair when you’re working on something?  You think you would put it up more often with that brilliant brain of yours but here I am, or rather here is something that will do it for you!”

There was only a playfulness in her tone as she scolded him while handing him the smooth piece of fabric.

“I thought it be a good gift, had it charmed so that it ties itself and doesn’t come loose until you tug on it. Try it darling.”

Taking another curious look at the fabric he did as he was told, sweeping his hair into a ponytail and lifting the ribbon towards his hair, and to his surprise, it indeed slipped from his fingers like it had a mind of its own and in a second he could feel his hair being pulled and secured. 

“A lovely gift indeed, though I wonder how much of it is a gift for you as I know you have a penchant for pulling my hair down when you get in a mood.”

There was a little smirk on his features as she grinned back at him while wrapping her arms around his waist and snaking one arm up to loosen the fabric. As she had said after a gentle tug it easily came loose and so did the long white strands of hair that framed his face and tickled hers a little as he leaned his head down.

“What can I say Mr.Snape my deviousness knows no bounds when it comes to you.”

“And I would have it no other way love.” 

That was the day his hair had turned white which if he was being honest was not a day he had ever thought he would ever see considering his more hazardous youth. 

But he was more than grateful to be able to see it after all those years of being shunned. Years of heartbreak, pain, and suffering at the hands of others and even at his own hands. He was happy, ecstatic even if he didn’t show it to be here celebrating it with his doting wife whom he had also been lucky to meet decades ago. 

The one person whose presence and love felt like sunlight coming through a glass pane on a cool fall day. Warming him gently, with her adoration and kindness that he had so needed after years of neglect.

That birthday was also the day he had received his favorite gift as simple as it was. Each day afterwards he would wear the ribbon, picking it up from its place on top of a velvet box that it came with and tying back his hair that had grown towards the middle of his back.

He had toyed with the thought of cutting it as he did many years ago, but the doe eyes that [Y/n] had immediately shown him when she begged him not to was what had saved the strands.

And now with the ribbon his routine slightly changed, which sounded silly to say. Whenever he knew he was about to be up to something that would benefit from not having hair in his face the ribbon was the first thing he reached for. 

Whether it was potion making, taking notes, or cooking meals for him and his love the ribbon was in his hair. And with it, it also felt as if [Y/n] was sitting beside him even on days when she had to leave the house and he was left to his own devices. 

Such a simple gift yet it meant the world to him. 

And so it became a trend that whenever it was time for a gift-giving occasion he would find himself saddled up with a new ribbon from [Y/n]. From the color to the style of the ribbon, there was always a variation, something that made it a little different from the last.

‘Just in case you want to switch it up.’

As she had smartly said when she had given him his second one. Yet even as his collection grew, the love for the first one grew with it. While the other ones were just as finely made and maybe even richer in style and fabric, the first one with its beautiful purple sheen was still ever his favorite. 

When [Y/n] asked him about it as she watched him take it off one night she was met with silence as he made himself comfortable. His arm wrapped around her shoulder, and brought her close to his side as a soft noise of contentment escaped both of their lips as she cuddled close and looked up at him waiting for an answer. 

Looking down at her with dark eyes that were always so gentle when they were on her, he spoke, 

“I think it’s because it reminds me of our love darling. No matter how much time has passed or how much it has endured day in and day out it keeps it shine. Never dulling, never fraying. I’m truly quite fond of it.”

The light that was in her eyes seemed to brighten as she lifted her hand up to finger through the white strands that framed his face. A smile was offered up to him as she leaned up to bump her nose against his, nuzzling it gently as she stared at him.

“Oh Severus.”  Her whisper was tender, and soft like the touch of his fingers that went to hold her side. “I love you, darling.”

“As do I [Y/n], as do I.” He answered back to her, eyes glinting with adoration as he pressed their lips together gently in the dimly lit room that felt warm with affection and care that would always be there for them both.

A/N: Long white-haired Snape is 👌👌👌 Like it's just an image I love so much. His hair tied up as he sits with his wife in their cottage just being cute together. It makes my heart hurt and wobble yet also tight with happiness. Anywhose thanks for stopping bye and reading

Feel free to scream at me as always ^^!

[navybrat817]

Sweet Navy! ❤️

For Ficlet Friday, I would love to see something with Eternal Brand! Stucky? 🥺❤️

Like maybe smutty prompt #1 “let me kiss it better”? 🥺😌

And if you’re looking for anything more specific, maybe one of the guys wore her out - like barely functioning, drooling into the sheets and mumbling incoherently - while the other was out running errands or something 😌 And then when he comes back, he wants in on the fun and promises to kiss it her pussy all better 🥺😱😌

If this doesn’t strike your fancy, please feel free to ignore it ❤️

You know I adore our tattoo artists! Hope you enjoy this ficlet.

Lucid

Pairing: Tattoo Artist!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader x Tattoo Artist!Steve Rogers

Word Count: Over 300

Warnings: Smut, oral sex (f. receiving), talk of safe word

Steve heard your worn-out cries as soon as he walked in the door but took his time setting his keys down and slipping his shoes off. He followed the noise to the bedroom and watched the scene in front of him with a small smile. Your face was wet with tears, your hands tied above your head, your entire body trembling as Bucky feasted on your delicious cunt. The blonde licked his lips and wished he had his mouth wrapped around one of your hard nipples. The view of Bucky's perfect backside was a sight, too.

“Wore her out already?” he asked, making Bucky stop and look over his shoulder with a smirk, shine around his lips. “I didn't think I was gone for that long.”

“You were gone for hours,” Bucky corrected him, spreading your legs wider. “And I couldn't help myself. It's fun wearing our Blossom out.”

“He's a bastard,” you whined, your eyes dazed as he ran a finger along her slit.

“Yeah, I'm a bastard,” Bucky chuckled. Steve didn't deny that. “But she practically fucked herself on my tongue and my cock even with her hands tied, so what was I supposed to do?”

Steve swore under his breath, wishing he was there to witness that. “You check in?” he asked, looking between both of you as he stepped closer.

Your head lolled to the side. “He did. Still green,” you promised. They always checked in. “But he's still a bastard,” you mumbled.

Both men chuckled at that. “Poor Blossom,” he cooed, leaning down to kiss your lips. “Let me kiss it better.”

The brunette moved out of the way so the blonde could take his place. “Yeah, let him kiss it better and I'll let you taste yourself.”

A tear slid down your cheek, but you managed a smile. “You're both bastards.”

But they were your bastards, and you loved them so.

Love and thanks for participating in Ficlet Friday! ❤️

[bethanydelleman]

I'm watching a Chinese drama called Blossom right now and it's doing historical arranged marriage in such an interesting way and it's making me think more about my post about arranged marriage and particularly, what models of marriage has the female character seen growing up?

Because maybe part of why the Sad/Angry at arranged marriage princess/noble woman feels so hollow is because the mother is usually placidly sitting beside her husband pushing for marriage too. If your parents have a fine arranged marriage, what are you so worried about? It can come off more as a petulant kid than a real denunciation if we don't have indication that they really know what they're mad about or afraid of (Eloise Bridgerton...) Especially when they keep emphasizing how the girls are sheltered and ignorant, where did she manage to get this disillusioned?

This drama has so far shown three failed marriages, all unique. One marriage broke down because the husband was sexually assaulting female servants, another because after emotionally supporting her failure of a husband for 10 years, he took a second wife right after getting his dream job (that one felt so real), and the last woman accepted her marriage wouldn't have affection but was appalled when her husband cheated on her with her half-sister as it violated her sense of marital decency and respect.

What I really like the most is the characters mostly buy into, and all of them expect, marriage to be explicitly political. The whole mindset feels a lot more genuine to the time period. No one is Shocked Pikachu Face that they'll be asked to marry someone for family alliance reasons. And the anti-marriage female lead, she earned that opinion. She knows. She's haunted.

[feral-ballad]

Saadi Youssef, tr. by Sinan Antoon & Peter Money, from Nostalgia, My Enemy; "The Irish Rose"

[Text ID: "--Waiting for blossoms, / or for a promise of a blossom."]

[dollya-robinprotector]

Okay, so how many of you still don't know that High Conf male Robin can sign his fucking name on fem PC' clit during school WC encounter, huh? HUH????

I FREAKING THOUGHT EVERYBODY KNOW IT?????? Until 5 out of 5 Robin protectors I've talked to DID NOT!?? what

[starry-bi-sky]

in-world social media is so fun to think about in aus, in blood blossom especially too. like, unfortunately due to danny's (multiple) circumstances he can't go outside in public often, but i was thinking that after a few months of laying low at Bruce's house he would like, get to tag along with Bruce sometimes to Wayne Enterprises (with a face mask and a pseudonym) and i love thinking about how the internet would blow up at his first captured appearance.

like hi yes hello, gotham's favorite sad wet cat of a man has adopted an??? even sadder??? wet cat of a boy?? look at him. he's sopping and pathetic. bruce wayne did you kidnap a child??? WHO IS THAT

[verridaiya]

—The Here, and Now // Dream Blooms

"I see you here, now."

The long-awaited (at least, for me) comfort ending to my mini series! My first ever multi-fic work and my longest fic to date, finally finished. This was way longer than I anticipated it to be. Since it's meant to be a continuation, I would highly recommend reading either parts 1 and 2 (or either one, technically) before this one. I hope you all enjoy <3

Synopsis: Something hangs heavy in the air ever since that night, unspoken and weighty. Determined to change that, you give Sylus a gift.

Contains: Sylus x MC/reader, gender neutral MC/reader, comfort, current timeline Sylus & MC

Word Count: 5.6k

< Part 2 | end >

There’s nothing quite like driving on an open road in the countryside.

Colors blur through the window. The road is an endless stretch ahead, a black arrow cleaving through an expanse of verdant green and loamy brown, loping hills and flat ranges under an infinite blinding blue. Metal flashes under a late summer sun, the only signs of civilization zooming by as they make their way towards the city you left. The world passes by and there is only one thing that remains steadfast beside you—a stroke of alabaster, a touch of shadow, a stain of red. A striking palette that comprises the masterpiece sitting beside you, ever by your side.

And he is driving you mad.

“Is it a theatre?”

There is a permanent scowl etched on your face, your hands a vice around the smooth leather of the wheel. You turn to glare at the headache lounging in the passenger seat next to you, before returning your gaze to the road ahead. His eyes are still dutifully shut at least, hiding those gorgeous, infuriating carmine eyes, his arms crossed with a finger tapping a rhythmless beat.

“Sylus, are you still trying to guess where we’re going right now?”

“And if I am?” He sounds amused, as he always does when he knows he’s getting a rise out of you. He hasn’t bothered turning to you, instead speaking to the windshield of his car. “Will you tell me if I’m right?”

“Wha- no, Sylus!” You cannot stop the exasperation from leaking into your voice. “What part of surprise isn’t clicking?”

The audacity of this fiend of a man. Behind your mild vexation, the anxiousness inside you thrums and grows. Here is one of the many parts of your plan that you have no control over: that Sylus keeps his eyes and curiosity to himself on the drive over. It was a variable you hoped would resolve itself; there were already so many things to worry yourself over.

You bite your lip, run the plan through your head again. Examine the crossed-out ideas, the things you ran out of time for, the what-ifs. There are little blemishes here and there, glaringly obvious in your eyes. They are scabs waiting to be picked at, a scratch you can’t itch without making it worse. It’s too late now to change anything, now that the plan is finally in motion, but it doesn’t stop you from turning it over and over again in your head, unsatisfied with the finished product.

Maybe you should have found a different way to bring Sylus to where you wanted him to go. Maybe you should have been clearer about what you wanted, when you told him to close his eyes. But there is no telling the whims of this man, and you have all but given up trying to read his intentions, mercurial and incomprehensible as they were.

Then again, you were more than a little bewildered when he got into the passenger side of his car obediently after you told him you had a surprise to show him. It’s struck you sometime at the start of the drive that you’ve successfully kidnapped the leader of Onychinus. Well, he came very willingly and without complaint, but still. You had expected more questions and teasing, but he simply smiled and did as he was told. You see now that he was just biding his time, now that you’re trapped with him in this tiny space, luxurious as it was.

“Not a theatre, then.” He hums thoughtfully. You see him rubbing his chin thoughtfully from the corner of your eye. “The new aquarium, maybe?”

“That wasn’t an affirmation or denial, Sylus.” You say flatly. “And stop trying to figure out where we’re going. I’m not going to tell you.”

“An outdoor activity, perhaps.” He muses to himself, throwing one last guess out there. Your heart rate skyrockets. Thankfully, he doesn’t hazard another one and changes the subject. “You’ve robbed me of my sight, kitten. Am I not allowed to speak as well?”

You sigh, feeling the beginnings of an actual headache at your temples. “Of course, you’re allowed to. But you can’t guess where we’re going. Please, Sy.”

A chuckle rumbles through his chest. “You’re the only one bold enough to tell me what I can and can’t do.”

He says that a lot, that you’re the only one. The only one who can drag him out during daylight hours, the only one who can make him wear silly plushies on his head, the only one he brings to those fancy galas, the only one he worries about. You wonder at how many things you are an exception to when it comes to the man beside you and how you came to have such an exclusive pleasure.

Who could ever do anything to me except you?

And it’s true. Because you’re also the only one who’s managed to make him look as pained as he did on that night.

You think about it a lot, that hazy, fever-driven night of warm dreams and unspoken sorrows. Though nearly a month ago now, it still remained fresh on your mind. The sweetness of the dream and that night has long since dissolved, like the candy coating of medicine; now the memory of it only tasted bitter against your tongue. You don’t understand what you said that made him look that way, bereft and grieving. You’re not sure you ever will.

Sylus was something of a legendary figure in your eyes. He didn’t bleed, he couldn’t die. Hell, you’ve fired a bullet directly into his heart and watched the blood fade away like the remnants of a bad dream. He had the unwavering confidence of someone who controlled fate in his very palms and the unyielding power to match it.

And yet there he was, laid bare before you, looking lost and splintered.

You made no attempts to talk about that night after you recovered. To be honest, you weren’t quite sure where to begin, or what to even ask. Maybe you were afraid of the answer. These were uncharted waters for you both, after all—nothing like this had ever happened before in the year and odd months that you’ve known him.

And Sylus, for his part, made no mentions of it either. Instead, he carried himself as he normally would: teasing you, rankling you, endlessly smug, all the while remaining an unwavering presence by your side through missions and holidays alike. Anchoring you, though it feels like you’ve somehow let him slip and sink into dark, suffocating waters.

Ever since that night, something had shifted. You’d catch him, sometimes, staring at you with a far off look in his eyes and something akin to sadness lining his features. When he comes to his senses, realizes you’ve been staring, all he does is flash you a smile and say something teasing, something that distracts you from the question perched on your lips.

There was something separating you from him, something as incorporeal as your dreams but still tangible nonetheless. It was a gauzy curtain hung between you both, a veil you can vaguely see him through, the shape of him blurred and distant. You can feel the weight of it whenever you reach out to him, its texture abstract between your fingers and its heft wrapping around his shoulders like a burden.

You want more than anything to tear it to shreds.

And, hopefully, today will be the first step to doing so.

“I may be the only person who tries to tell you what to do,” you say lightly, unwilling to let your heavy thoughts spoil the atmosphere, “but it’s another thing to get you to actually do it.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Sylus gestures at himself. “Sitting here with my eyes closed like the obedient, benevolent man that I am. Depriving myself of the one thing I adore the most.”

His theatrics draws out a laugh from you. Sylus and obedient are two words that would never find themselves in the same sentence together. “And what am I so rudely depriving you of?”

“You.” Your heart skips a beat. “And the adorable expressions I can get you to make. Like the cute little scrunched up face you’re making now.”

You fight to unwrinkle your nose, smooth your expression. Even if he couldn’t see it, you won’t give him the satisfaction of eliciting a response from you. “Sometimes I think you have eyes in the back of your head or something. It’s creepy, Sylus.”

Amusement colors his voice in warm hues. “I just know you well, sweetie.”

You can offer no retort at that; he really does know you well. Probably the best too, out of all of your friends. You remain begrudgingly silent as you navigate the car through a bend in the road. You flick the sun visor up as the sunlight shifts, arcing its way to land on Sylus instead.

Sylus once told you that he prefers the dark and the cold, belongs there even. There was no place for him in the bright light of the day. But looking at him now, his side profile illuminated, full lips and proud nose kissed by the stray daylight filtering into the dark of the car, you’d be inclined to argue differently. He’d look gorgeous in the sunlight, you think.

A yawn escapes you, the sound of it audible in the quiet of the car. You had a shorter, fitful sleep last night, having been too busy worrying over today. When Luke and Kieran told you that they had managed to cleared their boss’s schedule, you had to scramble to make sure everything was in place.

Sylus tilts his head, his sensitive ears picking up the sound. “Am I boring you, sweetheart?” he says, sounding almost offended.

You start to shake your head, but remember he can’t see the movement.

“I didn’t sleep too well yesterday.”

“Bad dreams?” he asks quietly, casually.

You’re glad he can’t see you wince. “No, I just have a lot on my mind.” You pause, then continue hesitantly. “I haven’t had any dreams recently.”

“Is that so?” he murmurs, voice inscrutable.

The car returns to a silence, stagnant and stilted and charged with the energy of unsaid things. The veil hangs heavy in the air between you, unmoved.

You shift in your seat, your hand gripping the wheel, grimacing. You had to open your big mouth. This happens too often now—you, ruining the mood by bringing up the night that you’re both skirting around. Why is it the right words never find their way out of you?

You think about your plan again, not out of worry, but out of comfort. Remind yourself what this whole trip was for. Where the words die in your throat, your actions will speak for you.

You open your mouth to say something to break the silence, but Sylus beats you to it.

“You know, we’ve been driving north for quite a while now. We must be past Linkon by now. And since we turned east about 17 minutes ago-”

“Sylus!” You screech, your train of thought derailed as panic overtakes you. You want to whack him but manage to keep your hands on the wheel. Instead, you turn to glare at him as he smiles, all sharp teeth and mischief. “You- no! You’re can’t keep track of where we’re going!”

He shrugs innocently. “I can’t help it, sweetheart. Instincts of a trained criminal, I’m afraid.”

The smug bastard. You fight the urge to get off the road to do a few donuts to throw him off track. It’d likely just make you dizzy instead. Besides, you’re feeling kindhearted and charitable, unlike someone.

“I should’ve brought a fidget toy for you,” you grumble. Or that coin you always see him play with.

He just laughs. Low, rich, and heavy—a sweet song, the only melody his voice can carry.

“No need kitten,” he purrs. “I have everything I could ever need right here, entertainment and all.”

His hand unerringly finds your own, resting on the center console. Warmth envelops you as his hand dwarfs yours, rough and calloused, gentle in the way you’ve come to expect from him. It never fails to make you feel safe, soothed. You resist the urge to flip your palm up, intertwine your fingers together.

He plays with your hand, thumbs over your pulse. Your erratic heart, tense with worry, has since calmed during your banter. You wonder if he can feel it. You think he enjoys feeling its slow and steady rhythm, one that his own hummingbird’s heart fails to beat.

You miss the way he subtly relaxes, untensing as you calm.

The silence that settles in is pleasant, companionable as you continue to drive, your hand in his. The sounds of cars rushing by fades as you leave them behind, turning away from the main road. Asphalt becomes dirt under your tires, narrowing into a single unpaved lane. You steer Sylus’ car through the meandering forks in the trail, recalling the directions Luke and Kieran gave you the other day. Eventually, you find what you’re looking for.

“We’re here,” you announce, pulling the car to a stop. The nervousness slowly trickling back in. This is it.

You get out of the car, taking the time to collect yourself. You’re a seasoned Hunter, part of the best of the best—you’ve fought Wanderers the size of trucks before, infiltrated the ranks of notorious criminals, handled heckling reporters at the scene of metaflux instabilities. You can handle giving a little surprise gift to Sylus.

You round the car and open the passenger door, taking the time to examine him. He’s humming a little tunelessly, body relaxed as if he doesn’t have a care in the world. He cocks his head at the sound of the door opening, eyes still shut. Hm, you didn’t anticipate this to be a problem. After a moment of deliberation, you speak.

“Sylus, do you trust me?”

“Sweetheart, I would lay down my life for you in a heartbeat,” he answers with a gravity unbefitting of the circumstances.

You roll your eyes, used to his antics by now, his flair for theatrics. “Okay, mister dramatic. I’ll settle for just your hands.”

He sniffs, almost like he was offended, but remains pliant as you slip your hands under both of his to hold them. Indulge yourself with the feel of his hands in yours as he returns the favor, holding them gently. With your help, he gets out of the car.

This inverse of this scene has played out plenty of times before; Sylus has always so gentlemanly helped you from his car whenever you’re out with him. It feels nice to be on the giving end rather than the receiving, for once.

“We’re almost there, just follow me and then you can open your eyes.”

You angle yourself to look over your shoulder as you walk, leading him onwards. There’s a small trail nestled between the dense brush, under the shadows of viridian trees. You make your way over, an occasional murmured apology leaving your lips when your feet bump into Sylus’s. It’s such an awkward way of walking, sort of sideways and backwards, all the while staying close enough to hold both his hands. You don’t want to let either of his hands go, though. And he doesn’t seem to mind, indulgently docile as you find your tempo eventually.

For all he looks lax and nonchalant, you know Sylus is on alert and attentive, gleaning whatever he can of his surroundings from his other senses. Another perk of being a ‘trained criminal’, you suppose. You can practically see him cataloguing the scent of the cool fresh air, the hush of the trees swaying and the decidedly un-urban sounds of birdcall and silence on the wind. There’s not much you can do about that besides escort him faster.

When you almost trip on a tree root jutting out into the trail, you automatically start to adjust your stance to avoid falling, reflexes courtesy of your Hunter’s training. But there was no need; Sylus’s hands grip yours, strong and sure, steadying you as you find your balance.

You brace yourself, knowing what’s coming.

“Be careful kitten,”—and there it is, that teasing lilt, mirth in his voice— “If you get injured, I can’t carry you without opening my eyes. Wouldn’t want to ruin the surprise for me, would we?”

“I was distracted, my eyes were on you,” you bite back without missing a beat, mimicking the quip he always says when you’re in a firefight together. If he was going to use your own words against you, you’re not above doing the same.

His lips quirk upwards at the familiar words leaving your mouth. “As they should be.”

You huff a laugh at his self-satisfied reply but hold onto his hands tightly, as he does with yours. You can’t tell who is supporting who, as you continue on.

Eventually the gravelly dirt underfoot gives way to grass. You catch a glimpse of your final destination through the underbrush: a peek of open sky, a hint of something that shone like jewels nestled in verdure. Excitement prickles at your senses, your breath quickening with each step as your strides grow longer, and it’s not before long before you’re all but tugging him along.

“You know sweetheart,” Sylus begins, as you pull him to the final stretch, his long legs effortlessly keeping up with your pace, “for all the undercover work you do as a Hunter and with me, it might do you well to practice your stealth a little more. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you plotting with Luke and Kieran behind my back. And you forget, Mephisto is always watching.”

You refuse to take his bait, not when he’s finally here. Your scheming had to have worked, there was no other way. “Shush, you definitely didn’t figure it out! Come on, come on, you can open your eyes now!”

Of course, your words don’t stop his attempts to provoke you. “If you say so. But if you wanted to unwind and go fishing with me you could have just-” he cuts himself short as he opens his eyes.

“Surprise!” you flourish your hands, albeit a little awkwardly, as if presenting a gift.

Sylus stands there, frozen. Breathes out your name. “Kitten, what is this?”

“It’s uh, my gift to you.” You turn around to also examine the view.

Flowers. Flowers all around you, blooming under the golden light of an almost setting sun. They flood the open field in a riot of colors, stopping only at the edges of the surrounding forest. Brilliant oranges, deep blues, and luscious purples dot the meadow, strokes of vibrancy amid lush green, a palette of brilliance upturned towards a blushing sky. The air is filled with its sweet scent.

It had taken Luke and Kieran weeks to find this place, what with going behind their boss’s back and finding a spot to your liking. You couldn’t quite explain it, but you wanted to find a place similar to the one in your dreams. You were lucky that this beauty of a place was within a decent driving distance of Linkon.

But still, looking around the small meadow, you wonder if it’s enough.

You wander a little further in, your steps cushioned by the plush grass. You speak to the open sky and the birds that dart through the air, your back still to him.

“I found this place a while ago- Well, Luke and Kieran found this place, but I asked them to look for something like this for me. I wanted to take you here as soon as they showed it to me. But I had to wait for the both of us to be free and it took so long, especially since you’re such a nocturnal creature. There wasn’t a good time to take you here in the past weeks.” You’re rambling now, but you can’t seem to stop yourself. “The influx of Wanderer sightings I told you about last week didn’t help either, since Alpha Team had to be on standby. And then when all that was done I had to figure out how to surprise you and you’re so hard to surprise and-”

You pause only to take a breath. You need to calm down, before you ramble the rest of the daylight away.

You think of Sylus. His gentleness as he places a towel on your fevered forehead, as he coaxes you to eat soup. His hand wrapped around yours, steady and safe. “Anyway, I wanted to do all this to thank you. For taking care of me when I was sick. And being there, always.”

Silence. You turn around.

He’s staring at you, eyes wider than you’ve ever seen them before, plush lips slightly parted. A marble statue standing stock-still against the vividness around him. This is the first time you’ve ever seen him so speechless.

Though it isn’t his usual bored poker face, you still can’t read his expression. Your heart rate picks up nervously. Does he hate it? Perhaps this was a bad idea, a terrible approach to thanking him and apologizing for that night. Maybe it was awkward timing, or that this gesture was given too late.

“Sylus? Are-”

Sylus launches himself at you.

You barely have any time to react. With a gasp you jerk backwards in surprise, but he catches you around the waist, wraps his strong arms around you. The world tilts as his momentum has you both falling. You don’t know how, but he manages to twist himself over to take the brunt of the fall. The world is a kaleidoscope of color as you both roll into the meadow, coming to a stop amidst a patch of lilac.

Everything is still spinning as you reorient yourself. You’re still nestled in Sylus’s arms, on top of him as he lays in the grass and the blooms. You didn’t realize that you were laughing breathlessly until Sylus joins in, a rumbling chuckle reverberating in his chest, under your cheek. You wriggle your arms from his hold, brace them on the ground in an attempt to unplaster yourself from him, but his arms tighten around you and has you collapsing back into his hold. It was only at a mirthful “Sylus!” and a light pinch to his side does he release you.

You sit up and find yourself straddling his torso, hands splayed to steady yourself, muscles rippling under your touch. The rat-a-tat-tat of his heartbeat echoes beneath your fingers. Your chest rises and falls with his, breaths intermingling as you both recover from your tumble. His eyes meet yours, rubies glittering in the sun.

“Does this mean you like it?” you ask, though you think you know the answer.

“I do, sweetheart. Of course.” Sylus doesn’t take his eyes off of you. They’re soft, softer than they have ever been before. “This is the best gift you’ve given me.”

There’s something in the way he looks at you, as if you were the gift given and not the delicate blossoms around him, framing his body in pale purple. His eyes are a lit match, the way it ignites your body, warms your heart. The shadows of anxiety and nervousness flee under the heat of his gaze. In its place is a spark of excitement, the feeling of being pleased that he is pleased. You can’t help the smile slowly taking its permanent residence on your lips.

“You have twigs in your hair,” you say with laughter in your voice, and reach up to pick them off.

They fall away easy enough at your deft hands. Two in particular are stubborn, small and branching enough to have somehow intertwined into his hair. You stop when Sylus lifts his own hand up towards you—to brush your cheek?—no, to wind it into your hair, tugging at it gently. After a moment his hand comes back into your view, revealing his prize.

“You have some as well. We match."

Your hand flies up, landing on a leaf that has made its home in your nest of a hair. “It looks like we’re part of this meadow now too. But a little warning next time, Sylus? Getting tackled by you wasn’t exactly the reaction I was expecting.”

Sylus raises an eyebrow. “And what were you expecting, kitten?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe I thought you’d burst into tears of joy or something? I brought tissues and everything.”

Sylus laughs, something loud and raucous, the sound of it brighter than the sunlight enveloping the meadow. “I’ll keep that in mind for the next time you surprise me, kitten. I’ll be sure to act accordingly,” he says, taking a deep breath of fresh air as if he can breathe freely for the first time.

Sylus has yet to move or try to remove you from on top of him, though you had expected him to already. He seems content in this position, lounging in the grass. “So, Luke and Kieran assisted you in finding this place? And kept it hidden from me all this time. I assume the fishing trip discussion was a red herring?”

A quick enthusiastic nod of your head answered his question.

“Mephisto was also in on the plan,” you grin.

It had taken a lot of coaxing and bribing to convince the ornery bird to film the fake interactions of you and the twins talking about fishing and send it to Sylus, in addition to not sending the real recordings. You had a small suspicion that Mephisto was also actively trying to catch you and the twins plotting in order to blackmail some more treats from you. Damned bird. So much thought and careful planning had to be done in order to make sure Sylus was properly surprised. It still makes your head dizzy thinking about it.

Sylus shakes his head in amusement, his hair glinting a shining silver. He looks ethereal underneath you, in this lighting. All hard planes and sharp edges, melting at your touch. “Turning my own subordinates against me, kidnapping me and whisking me away into the woods. You’ve grown quite bold, kitten,” he says, the pride in his voice apparent.

“I didn’t think I’d be able to pull it off,” you say, blooming under his praise. “Taking the legendary leader of Onychinus by surprise? Unheard of.”

“My one true equal,” he murmurs affectionately. “Only you could surprise me like this.”

Only you, only you.

There it is again. Like clouds blowing in to block the sun, the warmth fades. You’re reminded of fever dreams and a careless mouth, saying things it shouldn’t have. You think of pain where there should never be pain, especially when brought on by you. You think of a curtain swaying in the wind, of a lonely figure just on the other side of it. You think of the real reason why you brought him here in the first place.

Sylus must see something change on your face. He parts his lips to speak, but you beat him to it.

“You know Sylus,” you start slowly, softly. Your eyes cut to the lilacs around him, the swaying grass. Look at anything other than the man under you. “It’s okay if you don’t tell me what’s bothering you. You never have to tell me anything.”

You know without looking that he knows exactly what you’re talking about. Sylus is perceptive, as sharp as Xavier’s light blade as it sings through the air.

In truth, you ached to know though of what could possibly hurt Sylus, if only so you can ensure it never happens again. But just as he is ever indulgent of your whims, you would let this want remain unfulfilled and festering inside you if he had no desire to talk about it.

“But that night, seeing that look on your face…it never sat right with me, seeing you that way. I don’t know how I hurt you and I don’t want to ever again. But whatever it was I said, I just needed to say that I’m so-”

“Don’t,” Sylus cuts through your apology softly. You feel the whispers of his fingers at your cheek, his hand a breath away from caressing your face. “Look at me.”

There was no refusing him, when he was so gentle with you. You turn back to those twin hearths, glowing warmly up towards you. There was no hiding from them—you’ve always been an open book. And he knew you best, after all. Your sadness, your pain that mirrors his own from that night, it was all there for him to see.

But, returning his gaze, he couldn’t hide from you either. There was an openness in his words as he spoke, an honesty to the way he lays himself bare before you, under you.

“You have nothing to apologize for, sweetheart. You have no fault in things you have no control over, nor can I ever blame you.” He pauses, clearly picking his words carefully. “There are things in my past that I have safeguarded with my life. Memories that I cherish deeply, that not a single other living soul in this world knows.” His eyes are burning into yours. “Your…dream reminded me of one such memory. That night, I was caught off guard by it. And it…weighs upon me still. One day, when the time is right, I’ll tell you the whole truth behind my words.”

Sylus searches your eyes as you absorb what he said. You want to say something, anything in response to his vulnerability and sincerity. But the words are lodged in your throat, stuck under the lump and the tears that you refuse to let fall. Instead, you just nod and hope he understands your silent acknowledgement.

Sylus smiles softly and nods his head slightly. He releases you from his gaze and turns his head to examine the flowers around him, alighting on them like the sunlight that nourishes them.

“But this gift you have granted me, being with you here. How could I ever bring myself to be burdened by these heavy memories in such a place, given to me with such generosity and benevolence?”

“Is it enough?” you ask, voice small.

“Sweetheart, it is everything I could ever ask for.”

This time it’s your turn to launch yourself at him. Sylus welcomes you with open arms, embracing you just as tightly. Core muscles flex under you as he lifts himself to sit upright, taking you with him.

There are no more words spoken between you. There was no need; the way he holds you and doesn’t let go tells you everything you need to know, and you hope he knows too from the way you return it just as fiercely.

The warm musk of him mixes with the fresh air and the scent of wildflowers. Birdsong and the sound of wild things accompany the rapid-fire song of his heartbeat. The world around you ceases to exist outside of this meadow and Sylus.

You don’t know how long you sat there with him. Eventually, you pull away just enough to stare at him. Contentment colors his eyes, affection lining his features. The setting sun had brought a gentle flush to his face. A small breeze ruffles his hair, some of it falling onto his face.

The curtain had lifted and you glimpse the full majesty of the masterpiece before you.

You were right. He does look gorgeous in the sunlight.

You speak into the serene silence between you. “There’s supposed to be more wildflowers here, you know. But it hadn’t rained in a while and I spent too much time planning and waiting for the right time. And then summer arrived earlier than expected and- yeah, there were supposed to be so much more than this, if we came earlier.”

Sylus reaches to cup your cheek, a promise in his eyes. “Then we’ll come back next spring, together.”

Butterflies dance in your stomach at his words. You have never adored anyone else more. You cover the hand holding your cheek with your own. “Together.”

You turn your gaze to the scenery around you again.

It wasn’t exactly what you envisioned. The dappled wildflowers aren’t the vibrant shade of red you desired. The meadow is flat and surrounded by forest, not towering snowy peaks and rolling hills. The breeze is faint and carries the scent of damp grass, instead of the crisp mountainous air it should be.

Things aren’t perfect.

But they don’t have to be.

Because he is here beside you, in your arms. And that is all that matters. His happiness is a chalice overflowing, sloshing and filling your heart with warmth and contentment. Something inside you relaxes with a quiet sigh, finally at ease. A coil of tension that unwound itself, a restlessness you didn’t know existed because it has always been there.

The shadows of the forest elongate on the earthen ground as the sun dips below the tree line. Your shadow and his are there too, complete with the twigs adorning both your hair, recognizable and unfamiliar all the same.

From a certain angle, one could envision the shadows as that of a dragon holding their beloved, their crown of twigs two pairs of horns, nearly touching as their heads bent towards each other, together at last.

And perhaps one day, when you think back on this day, you will see a double vision of the Sylus you know and the Sylus of your dreams, a Sylus you’ve forgotten, and come to a realization.

But that is an echo of the past and a moment in the future.

Right now, there is no worry, no hesitation, no past or future. Here in this remote, secluded meadow it is just you and him, enjoying the gift that is the present.

[spidermans-l-o-v-e-r]

9-1-1 Masterlist

Oh gee finally a place I can keep these! Thank you to my bestest most amazing friend in the whole world for making these headers for me i literally actually literally could not do it without you

Two of a kind

Buck can’t stop thinking about his coworker, so he does what every guy at 3am does on a 24 hour shift!! He sneaks out to his car to get off. But it turns out, certain coworkers (that might possibly be the love of his life) have the exact same idea!

Fairest of Them All:

The party downstairs rages on as Buck decides to do something about the pretty little thing he’s been staring at all night

Clothing Optional:

I can’t. I can’t keep writing summaries. I’ve done 2

After a stupid work shift, in the stupid heat, Buck just wants to enjoy a sweet little sundae, fortunately it comes with a side of dat ass (I’m not sorry)

That Should Be Me:

Buck has never ever been jealous ever a single damn day in his life

Gamer Girl

Buck thinks you’re so, so pretty. You’d looked even prettier with your thighs around his head

Now You See Me:

✨Mirror sex✨

Sleepy Hollow, 1999

Scream, 1996

The Exorcist, 1973

The Shining, 1990

Grease Lightning

The Polar Express, 2004

All The Rage

Girls Just Wanna Have Fun

Cootie Catcher

Growing Pains:

Everything is all wonderful and cool and dandy until you nearly die from your appendix!!

(I KNOW. THERE IS. AN AMBULANCE.)

Cry To Me:

Eddie loves when you’re crying during sex, nothing turns him on more… except when those tears are very very real and he’s very very worried

10 Things I Hate About You:

You guys freaking h a t e each other… or do you? Wink wink wink wink enemies to lovers wink

I Spy:

Eddie is the sweetest neighbor in the entire world… who knows where you work

Better Than Revenge:

You and Eddie get locked into a closet at your job after an accident, it also turns out your now EX boyfriend is a cheating asshole! Eddie has absolutely no problem filling in for the revenge role

Front Row:

Why do firehouses have to work f o r e v e r. Eddie needs a freaking shower and to pass out for the next six years on an overnight shift. It turns out someone has the same idea, and possibly another idea on how to left off some steam

Yeti Point:

Eddie finally takes you on that skiing vacation you’ve been begging him for and it’s going great! Until you get snowed in. But that’s okay, Eddie has a secret plan to keep you both warm

Slow and Steady:

Buck helps Eddie into the house, holding him up as you frantically get the bed ready for your injured boyfriend. Turns out, pain killers make Eddie horny!

(Hahahahahaha)

Encanto:

Dad!Eddie x Daughter!reader

Nightmares never get easier no matter how old you get. Especially ones where your father dies

Smoke Dector:

Eddie always has to be the hero, okay not really but it’s hard when you see your boyfriend running into a burning building for the first time

One Puff Or Two:

Take your freaking inhaler Eddie 🔪🔪🔪

Into The Fire:

(PTSD WARNING, PANIC ATTACK WARNING)

You’ve been on edge lately, and Eddie knows there’s something up. One night things come to a head when you have a nightmare about what happened and Eddie wakes up to a very bad situation

Night Changes:

Eddie comforts you after a bad nightmare about him dying over and over in different ways (based off of 5.14)

Busy Bees:

Two words ✨Sex Pollen✨

Soup or Salad?

✨I’ll freaking summarize this later✨

Sink or Swim

I Was Made For Lovin’ You

Halloween, 1978

It, 1990

Die Hard, 1988

The Easter Bunny

For All The Marbles

Adventures In Babysitting

P.S I Love You, 2007

Hitch, 2005

A Rose by any Other Name

This is one of the funniest titles I've ever made up. Buck finds your simple collection of toys and shows them to Eddie... and now they want you to put on a little show for them

Finish Line:

A little game of "whoever cums first loses"

Twice Bitten:

Double Penetration from my kinktober list!

Alexander Hamilton:

Buck can't stop having feelings for Eddie's girlfriend... but what if that's okay?

Captured, With Love

[exphhoria]

Trans Kazuha sending a video of him masturbating to you. Him fingering himself and rubbing his clit while saying

“Wish it were you touching me” “Want you so bad” “Thinking of you” “ ‘M so wet for you” “Wish you were here, baby” “Are you touching yourself too?”

Gosh him rubbing his nipples and biting his lip as he softly moans your name.

Maybe you’re at work and he misses you. Maybe you’re at school and he took a break to use the restroom, he’s in the stall fingering himself to you, be a shame if someone walked in on him, maybe you.