#but can i just say that my dash has been such a great place tonight!!

[hexarcana]

Talking to Stanley really did make her feel a lot better. And knowing there's someone out in the world that she trusts and feels safe and comfortable being herself with is something she wasn't sure she'd ever get to feel. She can't stop smiling, all the way back to the shack.

--

Relief floods her at seeing the whole shabang so subdued. There are way less people and blessedly, thankfully, Thistle and his goons (and Carla) are gone. She stands off to the side as Stan talks with his brother, not wanting to butt in, but she does make an incredulous face at the mention of clones.

She then offers a half nervous and half sheepish grin at the mention of Thistle. She puts her hands in her pockets and looks around, rocking on her feet. She catches sight of the clock and makes note that her Ma likely would be showing up soon.

"Thistle shouldn't be driving. He probably has a concussion." Aggie says nonchalantly. "Hi Ford." She adds with a smile. "Clones, huh?" Ford manages a sort of distant shrug.

"Long story." He replies, sounding tired. Aggie's about to ask for the story when the boys Great Aunt comes up to them.

(Cut to preserve the dash.)

"There you two are!" She says brightly, getting a good look at her nephew. "I heard you got in a fight with that hippie kid. You musta won, though, you look totally fine."

"He did." Aggie interjects. "He was awesome." She looks at Stanley with a slightly mischievous and knowing smile.

"Well! Good for you, Tiger!" She ruffles Stanley's hair, and also does Ford's too because she doesn't want him to feel left out. "But please try not to fight patrons during shack events, kay? It’s bad for business." She turns her attention to Aggie. "And you, missy, missed your Ma."

"I did?" Aggie checks the clock again. "She was sposed to come at nine... That clock says 8?"

"That clock's broke, Aggie." Mabel pats her head, "Don't sweat it, I told your Ma that I'd keep ya tonight." Aggie stares at Mabel, her confusion extremely obvious. That was so out of character for her Ma it was almost unnerving. Her Ma didn't trust anyone so why would she be willing to leave her with Mabel, a woman that as far as Aggie knows, is a total stranger. But she decides not to look a gift horse in the mouth.

"A-alright. Thank you, Miss Mabel. I've never slept at a place that ain't my house before-"

"You've never been to a slumber party before?" Mabel looks absolutely horrified as she grabs Aggie in a hug, "You poor thing! You've been deprived of one of childhood's greatest joys!" Aggie looks at her friends helplessly as she's hugged so fiercely by this weird old woman. "This is going to be so fun!" Mabel sets a flustered and slightly disheveled Aggie back on the floor. "Boys, since Carla took off with her boyfriend we need extra hands to clean this place up." She looks towards her other employee, who's helping herself to leftover snacks. "Maria! You're with me, we've got Slumber party prep to do!" Maria salutes her boss, and Mabel addresses the rest of the room at large: "Alright, folks! Thanks for coming! But if you're not one of these three kids, please leave! Thank you!" When the place doesn't immediately start to clear she adds, "I said PLEASE.!" With a very serious weirdly threatening edge that gets the few remaining people to leave. "Alrighty! Boys, get cleaning, Maria, with me, and Aggie- You... You can just hang out."

"I can help clean?" Aggie adds, "I don't mind." Mabel clicks her fingers at her and offers two thumbs up.

"That's why I like you, sweetie. You don't mind things! I love it!" And the kooky old lady is gone, her handygirl following behind. Within a minute or two, its just the three of them.

"Your house is so fun." Aggie says, grinning at the boys.

Stan reaches out his hand, pinkie extended to match Aggie’s.

“Promise” he says solemnly, as he links pinkie fingers with hers. “You’re the only friend I’ve made this summer, I’d never want to break your trust Aggie…” he smiles. There are certain points in your life that you know will always remember. Stan knew that this would be one of them.

“Lets get back to that party. I think I’ve already got my dance partner right here after all.”

———

Once they got back to the Shack, the party had died down a great deal. Graunty Mabel was contentedly knitting on a folding chair in a corner. The record player was skipping, playing the same five second snippet of a song in a loop. And Ford stood in the middle of the dance-floor, looking slightly dazed, with a thousand yard stare.

Stan walks up to him, and eyes him up and down.

“What the heck happened to you Sixer?” Stan asked, waving a hand in front of Ford’s field of vision to see if he was awake.

“Clones. I made temporary clones with the copy-machine in Graunty Mabel’s office. Bad idea. Tried to impress Fidds. You?” Ford said in a halting voice like he was still trying to get over what had just happened.

“Tried to impress Carla McCorkle. Didn’t work.” Stan shrugged, taking Ford’s revelation in stride. “Thistle Downe didn’t like that.” He looks over to Aggie. “Good thing I had a friend here to help me out.” He smiles.

“Speaking of, where are they are all?” Stan asks, looking around the nearly empty function room.

“They left about 30 minutes ago. All drove off in Thistle’s van. Said something about how this party was for babies anyway.” Ford shrugged.

He looks at Aggie, as though realising she’s there all of a sudden.

“Oh hey Aggie.”

[johnwickb1tsch]

The Girl Next Door - XII

A Constantine x FemVampire!Reader (feat John Wick!) fic based on this imagine. all chapters gen. warnings: NSFW, blood, biting, violence divider by animatedglittergraphics-n-more 3rd pic is BRZRKR #2 cover variant 😍

⚠Trigger warning: dash of noncon, if that squicks you DO NOT READ!⚠

12. the serpent deceived me

It’s been a while, since you’ve had a migraine. 

It seems like tonight’s your night. 

Groggily you attempt to open eyelids that feel as though they’re made of lead. The room spins at first, and you try to hold your head in an attempt to put things back in their proper place. You are prevented from doing this, however, because your hands are bound over your head. With a snarl you pull at your restraints, metal manacles biting into your wrists, rattling chains bolted securely into a stone wall. You cannot budge them.  

You look around in a panic, and realize you are in a cave. Candles in wrought iron sconces and on various flat surfaces light the cavernous space. It looks lived in. There’s furniture, a table, chairs, even books, like this is someone’s subterranean retreat–mixed with a dungeon. 

“At last, look who’s awake.” 

With fangs bared you turn towards the familiar sardonic sound. “You…”

It’s about all you can think to say at first, as you behold don Juan sprawled in a throne of a chair across the room, his legs crossed and his beautiful mouth pulled in a satisfied smirk. He looks good enough to eat, in a billowing white shirt unbuttoned at his throat, his slender legs encased in leather boots up to his knees. He looks like he’s stepped out of a different century, and you vaguely wonder if older vampires wear the trappings of their time out of nostalgia, or like a security blanket against a modern world they hardly recognize. 

“Where’s Chas?” you demand, looking around. 

“Who?”

You bare your teeth, hissing, “The boy. Our friend.” 

Juan shrugs, smirking, and you hate him so very much in that moment. “I wouldn’t know.” 

Your mind flips through all the horrible scenarios of what could have happened to Chas. Was he dead in an alley? Or did they just take his fucking hat to bait you? You realize this monster does not care, and will not tell you. 

The next question you dread the answer to is: “Where’s John?”

“Which one?” asks the vampire with a cruel delight, looking back over his shoulder. 

Your heart filled with dread, you look past him into the shadows across the room, to find John Wick bound in a similar fashion to you, his wrists in manacles, his shirt in tatters and his torso covered in blood. He’s unconscious, hanging from the wall, and with a sinking feeling you wonder how the hell they managed to pull that off. What did they do to him?

“Thank you, by the way, for sending him marching right into my trap. He’s a bit of a blunt instrument, isn’t he? So predictable, the lot of you.” 

“What?”

The old vampire scoffs. “Did you really think you were going to nose around without me knowing? You, so freshly dead that I can still taste the sunshine on your skin? I felt you snooping from a mile away.”

You purse your lips, frustrated, mostly with yourself. You’d thought you were being careful. Turns out you still have a lot to learn. It might not matter, if you can’t figure out how to get out of these damned restraints…

“Um. Yeah, kind of,” you admit, pulling on your manacles again.  

He laughs at you, a malevolent, diabolical sound that grates you to the marrow of your bones. God, but you really do hate him. 

“He killed a great deal of my vampires though. I do not appreciate being forced underground.” You can sense there are other vampires around, lurking in the shadows. It feels like he still has plenty of minions to do his bidding. 

“Sucks to be you.”

“We’ll see who sucks who.” He stands from his seat, raking you up and down with a look that leaves you feeling decidedly unclean. “You are cute. I will give your suitors that.” 

You frown, unsure how he knows you have more than one…but then, maybe from now on you should just assume this snake knows everything. He’s far too clever. What chance did any of you have, against a thing that’s lived as long as he has? You sag in your chains in your despair, feeling helpless and stupid. Your only hope is that Constantine is still out there…but you realize that you hope he focuses on saving the world, rather than saving you. 

“Oh,” says Juan with false lament, pursing his lips in a pout that should look ridiculous on a grown man, but somehow…why is he so fucking beautiful? But you know it is like the serpents of the jungle; the ones most pleasing to the eye will prove the most deadly. “Giving up so soon? That’s no fun, the games have only just begun!”

You glare at him, for what it’s worth. “Why…would Hell on Earth seem like fun to you?”

He shrugs, approaching you with slow, deliberate steps, a predator stalking his prey. “The High Table has made life…untenable for my liking. It’s time to put them in their place.”  

“You’re crazy.” 

Before you can blink he’s standing before you, delivering a backhanded slap that rocks your head sideways into the stone. “You are a mere child, compared to the years I have lived. Do not question things you cannot understand.” 

You taste blood in your mouth, and you know it paints your smile red. “And, you’re a huge asshole.” 

He laughs, pinching your chin between two fingers in a vice-like grip. “That, I will give you, querida. But if you behave yourself…” He steps in so that there’s barely a hair’s breadth between you. “You may have a seat at my side, rather than in the fiery pit.” 

Still, you shake your head. “What makes you think you can keep the son of Satan to his word, once he has taken over here?”

“Not to worry, corderita,” he says with a mocking gentleness, his long finger caressing the curve of your cheek. “I’ve taken that into account too. He’s not so all-powerful as The Book would have you believe.” 

You narrow your eyes at him. “You’re going to double-cross the devil’s son once you get what you want out of him, aren’t you?” 

This pulls an oily chuckle from the older vampire’s lips. “Now you’re getting it,” he whispers. “A few more hundred years, niña, and you just might be dangerous.”

The hubris of this man is staggering, and fear seethes in your belly like angry snakes. There are so many ways all this could go wrong, and the whole world is at stake… But he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care, because he truly believes it all belongs to him. 

“And what if…he’s planning on double-crossing you?”

Juan huffs with laughter, his eyes upon your lips, his finger under your chin tilting your head just so. “I will burn that bridge when I get to it.” 

He leans in to kiss you, and that is when an unearthly growl fills the cavern, a voice like the grating of ancient stones demanding, “Get. Off. Of her.”

Don Juan smiles wide enough to flash his fangs at you, anticipation sparkling in his high-polished onyx orbs. You realize he’s been waiting for this moment all along.

“Finally, the dumb beast is awake.” 

John Wick strains at his chains, the impressive muscles corded in his arms and chest rippling, his eyes glowing that unearthly blue. You know you’re an idiot, but you can’t help but stare, moved to your toes by the deadly magnificence of him.   

“Let her go,” Wick warns again, and there is a charge in the air, like a growing storm. It raises the gooseflesh all down your arms. 

Juan positions himself so Wick can get a better view. “My spies told me you’d taken a liking to her. You really think she’s your dead wife reborn?”

Wick growls in answer. “She is mine.”

Juan grins at that, looking between the two of you trussed like Christmas turkeys. “That’s not how it looks from here, cabrón.” 

Faster than the eye can follow, Juan tears your dress right down the middle, exposing you from head to toe. It’s stupid, but you scream, surprised by this violation that you suspect, deep down, will prove laughingly minor compared to what’s coming. Wick roars, and Juan savors it like his favorite candy, laughing wickedly. 

“I can’t fault your taste, dhampir, I will give you that,” he says, before grabbing you by the hair and slanting his mouth over yours. You struggle, of course, but it does you no good. He doesn’t even have to use that staggering mind-fuckery from earlier in the club. He just has you, and all your undead strength will do you no good against a creature as old as him. He pins you with that lithe body against the wall, so strong that he too may as well be made of stone. 

Wick seethes and snarls like a caged bear, and don Juan just grins. “I once kept a werewolf captive there in those chains for fifty years,” muses the vampire to you conversationally. “He won't be getting out.”

Greedily he runs his hands over your body, squeezing your breasts and tracing the lace of your bra with his thumbs, pinching your nipples cruelly through the soft fabric. Your body betrays you with a jolt of sickly sweet pleasure sent straight to your loins. 

Furious, you scream, trying to squirm and buck him off but to no avail. You’re not sure what’s worse–the way he touches you, or the way he laughs at your futile resistance, your complete lack of power in his clutches. He ignores the thunderous uproar behind him, feeding off the sound of Wick’s fury, delighting in both of your pain. You catch a glance of the dhampir over Juan’s shoulder, and you think that maybe don Juan is a fool trust in just those iron chains. Are the eye bolts wiggling loose from the wall? An eerie blue light is filling the room, and not just from Wick’s eyes. It is as though it is emanating from his very pores, and you find the thought of him unleashed scares you as much as it gives you just a sliver of hope. 

Engrossed in his distraction, Juan’s hand runs down the curve of your spine, disappearing into the back of your underwear, squeezing your ass then probing lower. “Mmm. I knew you’d have a perfect little coño,” he hisses in your ear, nipping at your earlobe as he teases your treacherously wet little hole. 

“I hate you,” you answer through gritted teeth, bloody tears streaming from your eyes. 

“Good,” Juan answers glibly. “It makes the victory all the sweeter, darling. But you may as well get used to it. I’m going to make you my pretty little muñequita before we’re through, and I will fuck you in front of your stupid pinche pain-in-my-ass boyfriends whenever I feel like.”

 He kisses you again hard, his mouth trailing to the curve of your neck. Wick continues to snarl, and over Juan’s shoulder, through the glaze of your tears you see that the dhampir is damn close to actually breaking free, one of the bolts in the walls only precariously attached to the stone, and the other close behind. You feel Juan start to turn to look, and you know if you have any hope of getting out off there you have to keep Juan occupied.

You cannot hold him, so you use the only means available to you, wrapping your leg around his hip and sinking your teeth into his lower lip. 

Juan groans, surprised by your change of heart, but not questioning it in all his outsized ego. He leans into you, forgetting all about the dhampir in favor of the woman in front of him. His greedy hands roam your torso again, cupping your breast. 

“I knew you'd come around,” he gloats with a smirk, pressing his bloody mouth to yours. 

That is when the cavern fills with the blinding crackle of lightning, and the whole world goes blue.  

__________

*querida - dear *corderita - little lamb *niña - little girl *cabrón - derogatory term, like bastard, motherfucker, etc *coño - pussy *muñequita- little doll *pinche - fucking *wow i know a lot of dirty words in spanish i’m so sorry mother 😆

[scrapsovereign]

“I Have Standards”: A Choose Your Own Adventure Smut Fic

Description: NSFW. Astarion rejects you after defeating the Goblin Camp, so you seek out a certain wizard to make him realize what he's missing out on...

Pairings: Astarion x F!Tav, Gale x F!Tav, Astarion x Gale x F!Tav

Trigger warnings/tags: Very NSFW/18+, breeding, predator/prey, knife play, vampire sex, noncon/dubcon elements, Possessive Astarion, Manipulative Astarion

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

(Choice: Let Astarion wreck you after hunting you as his prey)

(Go Back!)

After Astarion’s proposition of claiming you, you want him so badly you can barely see straight. You need to know he means what he says, that he’s willing to show you by taking what’s his. His hand has left your neck in anticipation of your answer, and with great reluctance, you take your hand off of him.

“I don’t believe you…yet. You’ve turned me down once, you’ll have to chase me if you want me,” you challenge him, looking him dead in his gorgeous, ruby eyes.

“Is that so? You want me to hunt you, to hold you down and prove it to you?” He clarifies, tilting his head in curiosity.

“If you can catch me, I’ll be yours- only yours. For long as you’ll have me, even if it’s only tonight,” you promise him, reaching up to brush your fingers against the flushed crest of his ears. You trace a fingertip up and around the pointy ends, admiring how beautiful he is as he bites his lip, your center aching as he moans softly for you. 

Astarion licks his lips, staring at your wet heat as if he can see right through your clothes. “Very well. I’ll allow you a moment before I give pursuit. Starting…now.”

You turn on the balls of your feet and launch yourself out of your tent, clearing the canvas threshold, making a beeline for the path that leads into the forest.

The only word you can think of that describes how you feel is exhilarating. Maybe it’s the alcohol talking, but you’ve never felt so free. Dashing through the woods at night is something your elders told you never to do, and you wonder if it was because they wanted to keep this secret all to themselves. You dodge roots and rocks alike, navigating the landscape with as much ease as if you were back home. 

The burn in your lungs and legs can’t keep up with the compulsion of your feet to keep moving forward. A lucky thing you’ve happened upon a clearing in the wood by a stream. It’s the perfect place for a lover’s tryst, and by the looks of it, someone’s already intended to use it as such. There’s a nest made with a large linen thatched rug, a basket full of food and beverage, with pillows and folded blankets. 

Seems like a thoughtful setup. You should probably keep moving on before whoever’s planning to use it shows up.

That is, if you didn’t feel the bite of cold steel pressed against your throat. 

“Does this seem familiar, darling?” Astarion murmurs into your ear, pressing his body against yours. You feel the intrusion of his rock-hard length concealed by his trousers pressing against the curve of your lower back, the puff of his cool breath against your neck. 

“Not really, I don’t think we’ve been here before,” you state, knowing full well he means the knife at your throat.

He laughs at your obtuse remark, his other hand working at the back of your garments. “You’re delightfully amusing, my sweet.”

The blade’s edge is close enough to slice your skin open like butter if you so much as breathe too deeply. You stay still for him while he makes work of the lacings at your skirt, following the fabric’s movement with your eyes to the ground below. Your inebriated state does you no favors, making you forget you have a razor-sharp dagger at your neck. You hiss with pain as it slices a shallow line across your skin, just enough to draw blood.

Astarion stashes his weapon with a flourish, whipping you around to face him. He is no longer the snarky, pompous, high Elven noble he pretends to be.

The shirtless man before you has embraced his full vampiric nature as a monster, a creature of the night. His typically sultry crimson gaze has an odd glow to it as he watches the blood ooze down over your clavicle, between your breasts. He drags his tongue in an unnecessarily lewd fashion over his front teeth with a smack, revealing canines that have grown to twice their normal size. You’ve never seen him so wild and unhinged outside of combat.

You should be terrified.

Except that you’re not. You like him like this- the tug low in your belly and the wetness that is ruining your undergarments being the most obvious signs. 

A thrill goes through you as Astarion advances on you, stalking you as he drives you backwards. Your foot catches on the corner of the blanket that is laid out and you lose your balance. You gaze upwards in awe at the predator who has caught you in his clutches. His arms hold you in a lover’s embrace before he lays you down gently on the spread out fabric.

Astarion takes his place on top of you to admire how good you look underneath him, illuminated in shades of blue and silver underneath the moonlight. His vampiric strength steals your breath as he grasps both sides of your stays, ripping them along with your chemise clean down the middle. You stare up at him, your heart hammering in the cage of your bared chest, stunned and aroused he's torn the clothing right off you. 

His mouth falls open, elongated fangs visible as he takes in your flushed, almost-naked body. You can’t help but meet his eyes, your thighs still quivering with anticipation, your breasts splayed to the side and jiggling with each shaky breath. 

“Gods, you’re beautiful,” he groans, utterly besotted, as he leans down to finally take possession of your lips with his. 

He’s not nice about it, nor would you want him to be. It’s sloppy, open-mouthed, and ravenous. You kiss each other like you’re both starving for the air that passes between your shared bodies. His fangs catch on the vermillion border of your lips, groaning sinfully as he sucks and laps up the crimson that dribbles down your chin, moving down to the horizontal laceration at your neck.

“Now darling, what did you say to describe what I could do if I caught you?” he wonders aloud, noisily slurping up the blood that drips down as he palms your breasts. “Ah, yes. That I could use your body for my pleasure? For the evening, or as long as I’ll have you?”

“Word for word,” you confirm, gasping when he rolls the bud of your nipple between his blood-stained fingers. 

He hums with a condescending smile, gathering the front of your panties in his fist.

“And what if I want more?” He questions you tersely, licking his lips. 

A passing cloud obscures the moon above you, shrouding your forms in darkness. His beauty, which shone like an ethereal beacon in the moonlight, undergoes a transformation into a terrifying, hungry creature of shadow. 

“I’ll give it to you,” you whisper with a trembling voice, “Name it and it’s yours.”

He rips the flimsy fabric of your undergarments off your body, eyeing the slick that got on his hands with fascination. He licks his palm to sample your essence, groaning like it’s the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted.

“Divine. Simply…divine,” he notes, laying atop you, hooking his leg underneath yours. “And naïve, you’ve agreed to my terms before I’ve stated them. What if I want your heart, as well as your body and your blood? Would you give your love only to me?”

Your heart pounds in your ears. You’d been a fool for him since the day he held you to the ground with a dagger to your neck, unrequited love at first sight. The more you learned about him, the harder you fell. Sure, you thought Gale was hot, and it made your botched seduction of the wizard easier. But Astarion?

“You’ve been the only one from the start. I made a mistake going to Gale to make you jealous,” you admit, your dry voice wobbling with the truth. 

Astarion chuckles darkly at your confession. “My foolish, sweet thing. A mistake you won’t repeat after I’ve had my wicked way with you.”

He frees himself from his pants, rubbing his erection against your folds to tease you and gather your copious arousal. “Nevertheless, I hope you’re ready for me… darling.”

You gasp as he thrusts inside you forcefully, meeting no resistance as his cock plunges all the way to the smooth cap of your cervix. Your back arches and you tip your head up to the stars as he enters you, delighted at how well he slots into your warm and wet channel.

“Sweet hells, you feel good Tav…you fit me like a glove,” he groans, shivering as he pulls back and thrusts into you again. “Like your cunt was made for me alone.”

He forces your arms above your head, pinning them down with a clenched fist after hearing you whimper at his words. “Do you like that, pet? Knowing the gods made you to ruin me?”

Cheesy lines like this make you laugh or roll your eyes normally, but right now you’re spellbound and cock-drunk and you love it. “Yes, Astarion,” you gasp, “I’m yours, only yours. Take me…please.”

Astarion growls at your surrender, snapping his hips roughly against your pelvis. You cry out loud with every wave of pleasure it brings, each thrust pushing against a nerve bundle deep in your channel that sends you up towards your peak. 

He knows you’re close by the way your walls tighten around him. “Coming undone for me so soon?” He mocks you, licking a stripe up your neck, over the cut from his blade as you moan and shudder underneath him. He adjusts the angle at which he pounds into you as he lifts your leg up over his shoulder, the new position stimulating the pink pearl of your erect, exposed clit.

“Ahh! Can’t help it…you feel so good…I’m gonna, Astarion-I’m gonna,” you pant as he brings you to the edge of bliss, only after a few minutes of having his cock inside of you. Your eyes flutter to the back of your head as a wave of pleasure overwhelms you and crests. 

Astarion knows. “Look at me, I want to see you when you unravel for me,” he commands in a harsh tone. Your eyes fly open and snap to his, unable to deny your magnetic pull to him. “Who do you belong to, Tav? Say it!”

“You, Astarion!” Your vision goes white with your climax, causing you to briefly lose sight of him as you keen. You feel as if a lightning bolt had hit you with the way your orgasm rips through your body, your hips convulsing as your muscles contract around him.

He’s not too far behind you. You can feel him harden and twitch, hear his ragged moans, see the change in his ruby eyes as pleasure takes over. Your womb aches to accept him, your sex fluttering with the aftershocks of your orgasm, encouraging him to go deeper.

“Fill me, I’m yours…use me, claim me, breed me.”

Right after you say “breed”, Astarion makes a noise you’re certain you’ve never heard before. It’s a groaning exhale that turns to a whimper as he pounds into you once, twice, then stilling as he thrusts home. You welcome the teeth that sink deep into your shoulder, the pain translating to pure pleasure. His cock pulses and twitches, buried as deep within your channel as your bodies will allow, painting your walls with ropes of his hot spend.

Astarion filling your pussy with his cum sends you over the edge again. “Astarion.. I’m gonna…I’m…oh Gods,” you shudder and sigh, your second orgasm not as intense as the first. He seems proud of himself that you’ve had another one so soon, still buried in the proof spasming and throbbing around him.

He brings you down from your shared high, winding down to a languid pace before he stops. You push up on your elbows, trying to catch your breath and kiss him all at once.

Astarion shoves you back down to the ground before your lips touch. “And where do you think you’re going? We’re far from done here.” 

You stare back at him while you process his words, your mind slowed by the wine you’ve consumed. “Oh, don’t look at me like that, darling. You’re the one who asked me to breed you, and I don’t intend to disappoint.”

The length that had gone soft inside of you inflates with your blood. “I’m going to stuff you full of my cum, make that sweet little cunt of yours milk my cock for every…” Astarion kisses you tenderly on the lips.

“Last,” he sinks his teeth into the buttery smooth flesh of your breast, sucking a bruise into your skin.

“Drop.” He flips you over, positioning you with your ass in the air, your face down on the ground. 

The new angle feels incredible. You’re not sure how he’s stayed inside you, and you don’t care. You wish that the evening could stretch on for eternity, your bodies joined as one. His cock jumps and you take that as your cue to move back and forth, drooling at how well it massages your walls. 

Astarion’s hands clutch at the flesh of your backside, guiding the motion of your hips. “Yes, that’s it, that’s a good girl,” he groans. 

You clench and flutter around him when praises you. He thrusts into you while you work his length, moaning for him with abandon when his scrotum slaps at your erect clit. 

“Mmm Tav,” he moans obscenely, his fingernails digging into your skin. “If only you knew how much…I wanted to take you just like this. Naughty little minx, walking past me in those tight leather britches of yours…Gods, how I wanted to rip them away… fuck you senseless.”

“Just like this?” You pant out, so overwhelming by your impending climax, you can barely speak. 

“Like this,” he explains with his hand by wrapping your long hair around it, pressing down on the small of your back. 

The change in angle is all your bodies need to let go. Your simultaneous orgasms draw out the addictive bliss of your coupling, unsure of where it starts or ends. Astarion’s cock jerks and pulses as he empties his seed into you again with a grunt, collapsing over the top of you to catch a breath he doesn’t need. 

“You’ll give me one more,” he pants, pressing a kiss to the nape of your sweaty neck. He pulls out of your spasming cunt and rests his entire body weight on your back. You whimper at the loss of him, your arms and legs quivering from the aftershocks, on the verge of collapsing at any moment.

“I…I don’t know if I can,” you gasp out as you try to catch your breath. You’re shocked you had more than one orgasm during partnered sex. Then again, you’ve never been so thoroughly wrecked like this by anyone before. 

“Really, now? Make that two,” he clips, rolling you on to your back. You comply, half out of exhaustion and half out of your desire to embody the obedient plaything you promised to be for him.

Astarion eyes the pearly white liquid that seeps out of your abused hole, tsking in disapproval. He grabs a folded blanket in one hand and your ankles with another, shoving the blanket underneath your lower back as he lifts you up by your feet.

“That’s better. We don’t want to waste a single drop, now do we?” he drawls out his rhetorical question, gathering the cum that has spilled from you on his fingers and stuffing it back into you. Your hips buck upward with the intrusion, clenching around his digits as he pushes his seed back inside your entrance with a squelch.

Being fingered was never your favorite because your partners were too fast or too rough, but the way Astarion strokes your channel is just right. You moan wantonly for him as he fucks you with his elegant digits, brushing against a spot yours can never quite reach. You can’t believe it, but you feel your center winding tight again, clenching around him, feeling the cum spill from your core faster than he can plunge it back inside you. 

“That’s it, yes, cum for me darling,” he commands, fastening his mouth to your clit, hastening your climax with his teeth and tongue. It feels good, but you want to reach your peak stuffed with his cock, to feel his essence spill inside you.

“I want…I want you inside of me…want all of your cum in me…want you to get me pregnant,” you struggle to speak, your throat dry from all the noises of pleasure you’ve made for him.

You’re certain your request broke him when he stares back at you, his mouth agape. His fingers are stilled on the outside of your soaking wet pussy. You worry for a moment that you went too far until he throws your legs over his shoulders, his steel-hard cock spearing your entrance. 

“I’m going to spill inside you…every single day…until your body accepts the gift I’ve given it,” he snarls, an eerie fluorescent light shining in his eyes. You imagine him making good on his promise, endless nights together in the wilderness blended into a haze of shared ecstasy. 

Astarion forces your legs to meet your chest, drawing out a noise you didn’t know you could make. “Flood your cunt with my seed every night, until you swell with my claim on you…showing the world who you belong to,” he grits out, displaying sharp, vicious canines. 

You think about his possessive hands caressing a small bump on your belly, pressing an adoring kiss to where the life you both created would continue to grow in your womb.

It makes you fall apart with a shout, his name on your lips. 

“Please fill me! I want this…want you, I love you,” you beg him, the four letter word spilling from your lips by accident in your reverie. 

Astarion’s cock jerks inside you as he registers your confession, a chill rippling across his moonlit, shimmering, sweat-drenched skin. His entire body tenses and quivers, his hands clutching at the linen blanket below. 

“Bite me,” you whisper to him, your vocal cords dry and hoarse. “Take my blood, love...put a baby in me,” you plead as you roll your head to the side, an invitation to re-open the wound from last night’s feeding.

Astarion’s teeth latch on to your neck without hesitation. With the first pull of your blood, his hips stutter and spasm, cumming inside you with a muffled sob. You’re right behind him, the exquisite pleasure and pain rocketing you up to heights unknown. 

You must have blacked out, because the next thing you know you’re laying on your side with him still twitching inside of you, held so tightly in his arms you can barely breathe. You can feel the vibrations of his velvety soft baritone rumbling something to you, but you aren’t able to hear him over the ringing in your ears. 

Astarion buries his head on your shoulder, unable to finish his sentence. You press a kiss to the sweaty silver curls at his temples and his ears fall flat as he looks at you, his expression as vulnerable as you’ve ever seen him.

“Did you mean it, Tav? Did you mean it when you said you loved me?” 

Your stomach lurches up to your throat, your heart skips a beat. Out of all the crazy shit you’ve said to each other tonight, of course this would be the one he wanted to talk about. You close your eyes and take a deep breath, steeling yourself for another rejection.

“From the moment I laid eyes on you. I fought it, because I didn’t want to believe it, but I love yo-“ 

Astarion’s sensual lips steal your words, kissing you with a tenderness that makes your heart feel like it’s soaring from the relief you feel. 

“For the last two hundred years, I’ve never had a single thing to call my own. That is, until now,” he leans in to kiss you again and you pull away in panic.

“A lover? Or…a…uhm,” you stutter, flustered by the things you said to him in the heat of passion. He squeezes you with arms that glimmer in the moonlight, kissing the top of your scalp. 

“A family? No, well- maybe someday? I don’t know for certain, but not while Cazador’s alive,” he shudders. “Gods, can you imagine? At any rate, I didn’t expect you to bring out such a beast in me. I rather liked it, you know,” he murmurs into your hair, carding his fingers through your satin locks.

Astarion stills as if he’d remembered something, grasping your chin to look up at him. “Speaking of things I’m not ready for. I want you to be mine, and yet I cannot honestly say tonight was anything more than a bit of carnal fun,” he admits, his eyes flickering back and forth as he gazes into yours. “Is that alright, Tav? To allow only me to take what I want from your body? Can you live with the uncertainty that your feelings may never be returned?”

Your chest swells with the possibility of sharing his bed again, tears flooding your eyes. “We can take it day by day.”

“Good, just like I thought,” Astarion murmurs to you with a sinister edge to his sultry voice, alarming you. 

He chuckles and kisses your forehead, all of your worries washed away when he resumes his comforting touch. You sigh with contentment, drifting off to sleep against your lover’s chest, unwitting and unaware of the secret almost revealed to you.

[clockwayswrites]

A Broken Sort of Normal Part 8

WC:1175 Masterpost

Wherever they stopped was completely dark and definitely outside. As a cool breeze blew past, Danny was very glad he listened and had brought a jacket.

“You know,” Danny said as he climbed off Flash’s back. “It’s a good thing that you’re a hero, because this has mild serial killer vibes.”

“What?! No no,” Flash stammered before he dashed around the area.

Lights bloomed behind him as he ran, illuminating the space. They were in a field of some sort, standing on the foundation of a long gone building. The prairie grasses caught and sparkled in the light of the various lanterns that Flash had turned on. A cozy looking pile of blankets and a few pillows sat in the center of the foundation. Flash stopped next to it, shifting nervously on his feet.

“I, um. So there’s a meteor shower tonight!” Flash rushed to explain, the words almost garbled with how he was practically vibrating in place. “And I thought we’d come somewhere really dark where we could watch it? Since you like space? And I packed a little picnic for us too and…”

“That sounds really, really nice,” Danny said with a soft smile, talking over Flash’s almost panicked explanation. “I didn’t think I’d get to see the meteor shower this year, so this is really awesome.”

“Yeah? Okay, good,” Flash said, almost slumping as the nervous energy drained out of him. “I hope it’s a good night for them.”

“Even if not, this is… great, really great Flash,” Danny said. He made his way to the blanket, slipping his shoes off before he sat. “It’s been… it’s been a really long time since anyone has done something like this for me. Thank you.”

“Yeah? Wow, I keep saying that. I mean you’re welcome,” Flash said as he took off his peculiar boots and sat down next to Danny. “I’m glad you said yes.”

“You made me curious,” Danny said honestly. He picked up Flash’s boot, studying it as the other unpacked the backpack. “What are these made of to not just disintegrate when you run? I mean, obviously a polymer of some sort, but the friction it has to withstand…”

“Oh, we use a lot of the same stuff that you see in factories where machines produce high friction and some science from the automotive industry and even the aerospace,” Flash explained when he paused to see what Danny was talking about. “The shoes were pretty easy. The suit was the real problem.”

“Weave issues,” Danny said with a little nod. “Makes sense.”

“And chaffing,” Flash said with a grimace. “I have used so much baby powder.”

Danny couldn’t help but laugh at Flash’s expression. “I bet.”

“Yeah. Luckily Un—um, the other Flash had a lot of things worked out before I put on the suit.”

“That’s cool. Chemistry was never my thing, but material engineering can be really inventive.”

“There you are being smart again.”

“Me? Nah, my parents are just inventors. I used to do some work in their lab when I was a kid,” Danny said, setting the shoe down.

“And you didn’t want to follow in their footsteps?” Flash asked, his tone oddly soft.

Danny snorted. “Their type of science? No way. And besides, I never would have gotten into a good program. I, ah… didn’t do too well in high school.”

“No?”

“Nope. There was an accident in my parent’s lab with one of their inventions…” Danny closed his eyes. It was still hard to talk about the accident, especially when he couldn’t really talk about it. “Got electrocuted pretty badly by it. My heart stopped. Anyways, it threw me off pretty badly for a time and then I just never really got my feet under me. And there was this stupid bully and some other shit… sorry, excuses, I know.”

“Hey, no, reasons. People who think every reason is an excuse really don’t want you to explain yourself, they just want you to feel bad,” Flash said and bumped their shoulders together lightly. “Besides, look where you are now! You’re doing so much good and already a team lead. That’s amazing. Who cares about how you did in high school anymore?”

“My sister, for one,” Danny said. He sighed and rubbed at the back of his neck. “Wow, sorry, I really brought the mood down, huh? Show me what you brought for this picnic. After your pizza choices I’m curious what else you like.”

“Dude, you ate the pizza!” Flash defended, though his grin gave away his amusement.

“I wasn’t insulting your tastes, curious can be a good thing. It got me to agree to tonight, remember?" Danny asked. He was smiling again, despite the serious conversations a few moments ago. It was almost startling how easy it was to smile around Flash.

(Danny wasn’t complaining about that either.)

“Mmhummm, sure,” Flash said, ducking his head to hide his grin.

"Come on, unpack the snacks,” Danny said, nudging their shoulders together.

“Okay, okay, demanding,” Flash said with with a smile. “It’s a picnic, yeah? So have to have watermelon, but even better than normal watermelon, I have pickled watermelon!”

“Pickled watermelon?” Danny asked, taking the presented container curiously.

“Salty, sweet, tangy— the best,” Flash said. “And some little bread bite things to go with them.”

“How specific.”

“Shut it. Oh! Right, wasabi peas, a must have, and cupcakes for dessert!” Flash said, pulling out frankly extravagant looking cupcakes.

“You’re spoiling me.”

“Well,” Flash said. Danny could just barely see the blush coating his cheeks. “Maybe I think you deserve to be spoiled.”

Danny froze for a moment. Oh. Oh. This was a date. He felt foolish for not cluing in earlier. Suddenly feeling bashful himself, he glanced at Flash. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I mean, like, okay, I’m getting that you don’t seem to think it, which is really like, so wrong, but you’re really amazing and nice and I mean, I’m just saying that I’m glad you said yes to tonight and since you said yes I’m going to spoil you, because, um, you deserve it,” Flash said in a blur of words.

It was charming that Flash thought that highly of him. Misguided, maybe, but charming. It bloomed a warmth in Danny’s chest that he hadn’t felt in a long, long time.

Before he lost his nerves, Danny leaned over and pressed a light kiss to Flash’s cheek, right above the corner of his lips. “Thank you.”

Flash blushed red enough to match his mask. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Danny agreed and leaned against Flash. “Oh, look! A meteor!”

“Where? I see it! Wait, I’ll turn out most of the lights!” Flash said, gone and back before Danny even had a chance to tilt over. There was just enough light left to see the food without losing the overwhelming wonder that was the night sky and streaking meteors. “Make a wish.”

“Naw,” Danny said. He’d never do that again. Besides… “don’t need to. This is already perfect.”

“Yeah,” Flash softly agreed as he twined their fingers together.

-----

AN: The boooooooys. My, I just enjoy writing these two being all soft and cute so much. And hey! Danny clued in! What do we think of Wally's food choices? (Can you tell I've been craving pickled watermelon?)

Stay delightful, my darlings!

I no longer tag people, but you can subscribe to be notified on the masterpost!

[emmyrosee]

WELP! THIS IS SO CUTEEE 👀💞

https://www.instagram.com/reel/CqPdjRoA6rT/?igshid=ZWU2MTYxZTY=

soooo, who do you think among the hq boys with their son would be like thiisss??

*anywaayyss, i personally think that this would be rin and atsumu 😁

AHHHHHHH THIS IS SO CUTE- but this got suggestive bc I needed it for the content minors pls skip this one 😭

also cheating a lil bc in my dad au Rin has a son so… sue me BDJSBSOSN-

But if this ISNT suna, I’ll eat my hat.

Bc I just KNOW that Rintaro is the worst instigator in the damn world, and because his dad is so cOoL or something, Akito wants to be just like him too. He’s very much a daddy’s boy, has been since he was a new born, and as much as you don’t want to admit it, the sight is damn cute.

Until it’s not.

Rin’s always been… open, with his affections, everything from cute to suggestive, but thankfully he tries to do the former more than the latter. Things like holding your hand, you soon feel Akito’s tiny fingers grip yours. A kiss to your cheek, Akito wants to do the same thing to your other cheek. Feeding you a bite of food, a chubby hand brings a fistful of food to your lips.

What yourself and Rin forget to remember is that he does pick up so easily. And sometimes that does more harm than good.

Making dinner tonight was supposed to be fine. Until Rintaro slinks up behind you with other intentions.

“Smells great in here,” he purrs, still gripping the meat of your ass in his fingers, and you sink your teeth into your lip as you bite back a breathless scold. “Always can’t wait to have a taste, momma.”

“You’re feral,” You say, but he leans in for a kiss that you happily give him, giving you one more small smack that has you smirking softly.

“Just lookin’ so good doing basic things… so glad you decided to wife me up.”

You roll your eyes with a small laugh, “you practically begged me to do it, I- AIYE!”

A small, open palmed hand smacks against your ass, making you reel away in shock, your knees folding slightly as you try to keep yourself away from the now tiny offending hand. Both of your faces drop before you both lean over to look at your son, who’s smiling up at you.

“AKITO!” You yell in shock.

“Hedo, mumma!”

Doesn’t hold quite the same emotions as when Rintaro purred it.

You see your husband snort loudly in his palm, which is of course followed by your son’s chubby hand doing a similar action, and you give Rintaro a look of pure rage when he’s now fully laughing, gripping his sides as he gawfs. “Can I get some help here, Rintaro!”

“Oof, full name huh?” He says, finally catching his breath. He gets down on one knee and playfully beckons Akito with crooking fingers, the three year old toddling over giggly. “Now why’d you do that, dude?”

“Watch do, dadda!”

You groan aloud in the air, knowing this will only spark a new game between them because Rintaro takes everything to a next step before he steps in and says “hey, just so you know, we don’t smack other people’s asses.”

Dickhead.

Instead, it becomes to your two children dashing around you as you chop vegetables on the counter- your eldest, being of 25 years old, doing one thing, then your two year old copying him.

Kissing you, once again patting your butt, feeding you a bit of your chopped vegetables, all until Rin tries to pick you up, and when Akito cannot succeed, he decides to plant a surprisingly hearty smack on your leg. 

“Ow!” You whine, your hand coming down to rub at your leg. This, apparently, snaps Akito out of his game, turning to face you with wide eyes that watch you gently try to sooth the stinging.

“Hurt mumma?”

You look at him softly through your lashes, “a little bit, bud,” you smile. “This is why we don’t hit people. It can hurt them sometimes.”

“I sorry, mumma,” he mumbles, placing an open mouthed kiss to your stinging thigh. You giggle and lean down to scoop him in your arms, hoisting him up onto your hip and kissing his cheek.

“It’s okay, handsome,” you assure, resting your head against his for eye contact, which he delivers. “Just want to be like daddy, huh?”

He nods eagerly, whole body jouncing happily, “wanna gib mumma dadda love!” Rintaro opens his mouth, but you shut him up with a glare. “Daddy love mumma, I wanna love mumma!” You chuckle and plant a kiss to his nose, then quick pressed all over his face which had him giggling and writhing softly. “Mummaaaa!”

“Hey, gettin’ a little jealous over here!” Rin teases with a pout. You give him another playful glare, which is then copied by Akito, and you chuckle softly as Rin flashes you his biggest set of puppy eyes. You stalk over to him and lean in, and when he leans forward too, you blow him a huge raspberry which has him reeling back. “You’re such a shit!”

His eyes fly open and widen once he realizes. Your jaw slacks again as you try to ignore the fact that in your peripheral, you see your son trying to articulate the word.

It flies from his lips soon after, and you wince at the new letter in his vocabulary. You drop your head in defeat before turning back towards the vegetables, “here baby, help me with dinner okay?” You say to your boy, which has him bouncing excitedly. “Daddy’s going to be sleeping on the couch tonight, isn’t he?”

“Yeah!” He chirps. Rintaro bites his lip, trying to think of damage control. When he can’t think of any, he cowers to the living room, invisible tail tucked between his legs.

Were you really that mad? No, you’re more impressed it took you both three years to finally say a curse word.

Would you have immense joy watching Rintaro paw for your forgiveness?

Hell yeah.

[flowercrowngods]

I saw you're taking prompts and tagged it as Clarkson so ngl i immediately went feral bc i love your writing so much!!! Anything clarkson would make me sooo happy, but i especially love the way you write more introspective scenes so maybe something with soft vibes, maybe some hurt/comfort or healing from past trauma together? (I hope that's not too vague, if you were looking for actual scene prompts I'd be happy to come up with something more specific) i hope you'l have a good weekend ❤️❤️

thank you so much for the prompt darling! here’s some clarkson hurt/comfort for you with just a dash of steddie because i particularly love these four together 🥰🤍 this kinda ran away from me and it’s probably all over the place

in which wayne has a flashback nightmare and scott calls eddie and steve for help

🤍 also on ao3

It’s a whimper that wakes Scott, and it takes him a moment to realise where he is — but the dark shadow of Wayne sitting up in bed beside him reassures him for a moment. A dream, surely. His dream woke him, even though he doesn’t remember anything.

But then there’s another whimper, followed by what can only be described as a sniffle. It breaks something inside Scott even before he realises what’s happening. As his eyes adjust to the dark, he makes out Wayne’s form where he’s hunched over, the blanket still around him like a protective shield, his face hidden in his hands. His breathing is unsteady, more like little gasps, suppressed in the pale shadow of a breathing exercise.

He’s never seen Wayne like this. He gets nightmares quite frequently, but he usually gets up for some fresh air and a cigarette, maybe a coffee if he decides to give up on the night. But never before has Scott witnessed him in such a state that screams of heartache and badly suppressed panic.

It’s a lonely vision that tears apart his insides, and it’s what makes him reach out before he can think better of it. Wayne flinches away from him and gasps as another wave of years seems to come over him.

“You’re safe,” is the first thing Scott says, the first thing that comes to mind, the first thing Wayne needs him to say sometimes.

Tonight, though, it only elicits another whimper.

“What do you need?“ he whispers. Not What’s wrong? Not Talk to me.

It takes Wayne a few attempts and Scott watches, panic threatening to rise inside him and join Wayne if only so he won’t have to be alone — as little sense as that makes. The last thing Wayne needs right now is a frantic Scott. So he breathes. Watches as Wayne struggles through his words and the lump in his throat.

“Eddie,” he gasps eventually. “Ed, tell me… Where’s Eddie? I should have— He didn’t do it. He didn’t kill the girl. I should have been there, I should have… I’m sorry, Ed.”

It tears Scott apart to see him like this, lost and stuck somewhere between the nightmare in his head and the nightmares of the past, and there’s nothing Scott can do about it. He remembers it well, though he has the privilege of being oblivious to everything, the privilege of no nightmares, the privilege of staying present and alert when a light flickers or a police car drives past.

“He’s okay, Wayne. It was a nightmare, my dear. Eddie is fine. Your nephew is at Steve’s. Steve Harrington. It’s been a year, Wayne, beloved. It’s been a year, he is doing great. Come back to me, darling. It’s fine, there’s no nightmare here, just me. Just me, Wayne. It’s safe, everyone’s safe. I promise.”

Another whimper and then Wayne hunches over even more. Helplessness spreads inside Scott, feeling like surely this is his nightmare now. Grief and guilt and panic and sadness are coming off Wayne in waves, and it chokes him up. He’s not good at this, placating people, talking them down. He never quite knows what to say, what to do, what to make with his voice.

An idea comes to him then, and he hopes that the boys will forgive him for calling at… 3:28 a.m.

He gets out of bed and whispers, “Don’t leave again, my love, I’ll be right back. It’s safe, I promise, it’s safe.”

Wayne doesn’t react and Scott has to physically keep himself from reaching for him again. His pulse is quicker than it should be, his thoughts are racing, and he really is beginning to be quite frantic. Taking a deep breath, he goes out into the living are, making sure to leave the door open so Wayne can hear him — and so he can hear him.

“Steve here,” comes a very familiar voice through the phone after just one ring, and Scott breathes a sigh of relief.

“Steve, it’s Scott. I’m terrible sorry to wake you, but—“

“You didn’t, we’re awake. What’s wrong?”

Scott closes his eyes and wills his heart to calm down. Everything’s going to be fine. “It’s Wayne, he’s… He had a nightmare, I think. About Eddie. Thinks it’s ‘86 again and Eddie is missing, presumed dead, and I can’t get him… I can’t get through to him.”

There’s some shuffling on the other end and then there’s another voice talking to him. “We’ll be there in twenty minutes, Mr Clarke.”

“Ten.” That’s Steve in the background.

“Ten minutes,” Eddie amends, and Scott kind of wants to cry. It doesn’t make sense. But neither does anything that happened to these people, so he’ll cut himself some slack. “Do you… Can you, uh, can you put on some music? Quiet, just to, uh, to bring him back? There’s this tape, Aftermath by the Stones. Rolling Stones. It’s black with blue writing and all their faces, it should be there somewhere. We used to listen to it every night after… everything. It should be enough until we’re there, okay?”

“Yeah,” he nods, already looking around for a black tape. “Yeah, I’ll find it. Thanks, boys, I don’t— I didn’t know what to do.”

More shuffling, then Steve is back again. “You did right, calling us. We’ll be there. Oh, and can you make coffee?”

He frowns. “Do you really think it’s a good idea for him to—“

“Oh, the coffee is for us. It’s gonna be a long night. Already has been.” He sounds weary and tired and Scott has to remind himself that the boy is only twenty and shouldn’t sound like that.

“Alright, coffee coming right up.”

“Thanks. We’ll, uh, we’ll leave now.” Steve says, sounding rushed. “Eddie, babe, I’m gonna need you to be calm, okay? Everyone’s safe, it’s gonna be fi—“

And then the line dies. Scott takes a second to listen to the incessant peep of the dial tone, gathering himself, before going on the mission of finding the tape and making coffee before returning into the bedroom just to be there even though he feels useless.

Eight minutes later, a car pulls up outside and Scott sighs in relief. Wayne is leaning against him now, still not talking, still crying silently, absently, but he’s coming back.

Within moments, another shadow appears in the doorway to the bedroom and Scott looks up to see a rather crazed looking Eddie. He can empathise.

“Hey, uncle Wayne,” the kid says in so gentle a voice that it makes Scott feel out of place. “Guess who it is, your favourite nephew in the whole wide world, who is very alive and extremely safe.” It’s said with a smile, but the teasing falls flat right along with Eddie’s heart, obvious in the way his voice wavers. There’s a shaky smile on Eddie’s face as he sits on the bed, taking Scott’s place, who takes this moment to leave the Munson men alone. Eddie’s pressing his forehead to Wayne’s, cradling his cheeks and speaking softly, gently, tenderly.

Scott almost flees the room. He’s too out of place in their moment.

He closes the bedroom door gently and a silently as he can, and is met with The Rolling Stones and Steve, cup of coffee already in his hand. They share a glance and it occurs to Scott that this is the closest he’s ever come to whatever trauma lies behind this boy’s eyes, the one that is reflected in Eddie’s and in the shadow that overcomes Wayne’s face sometimes.

“Hello,” he says at last, because what do you even say to someone who’s seen horrors unimaginable, leaning against the kitchen counter with a mug of coffee like that’s just life catching up around 4am.

Steve smiles and hands over the coffee he already prepared for Scott — black, two sugars. Oddly enough, that’s what does it for him. The alienation and obliviousness on the one hand, juxtaposed by and met with a gesture so simple as a cup of coffee just the way he likes it.

His shoulders fall and he joins Steve, who shuffles over a bit to make space for him.

“It’s been a year,” Steve says.

Scott looks at him, waiting for him to continue — something he’s learned around these three. They’ll continue or they won’t, but questions don’t really work. Not with this thing.

“Since… Since Chrissy. Few days later, Eddie almost died. Was presumed dead. It’s. It’s been a year, today. Tonight.” The boy sighs and Scott finds his insides torn apart once more.

“Is that why you were awake? The anniversary keep you up?”

Steve nods, his eyes somewhere far away as he takes another sip of his coffee. Into his mug he mutters something Scott is sure isn’t meant for his ears, but he can’t help but overhear something that will haunt him for a while.

“It’s always some kind of anniversary ‘round here.”

The thing is, Steve told him. Well, he and Eddie did, but the Munson boy’s mind had shut off from the conversation quickly, and Steve is the only one who can tell the story from the beginning. And Scott is not sure if he can believe it. He wants to, and emotionally, he does. But he has to treat it as a story, otherwise his mind would quickly join those lost.

“I’m really sorry.” He doesn’t know what for. For calling. For the horrors they’ve seen. For the nightmares everyone gets. For the faraway stare in Steve’s eyes. For the waver in Eddie’s voice.

Steve looks at him for a moment, then nods towards the front door. “Let’s go outside for a moment, yeah?”

Scott hesitates, looking back toward the still closed bedroom door, before giving in with a sigh. Nothing he can do. Eddie is better at this than him anyway.

The fresh air helps and he breathes a little easier. Steve smiles when he notices, leaning against the wall behind him. He’s always been a smart one, that boy, much better at the matters of heart than those of science, unfortunately, but Scott appreciates it now.

“Listen, half of Hawkins calls me in the middle of the night sometimes,” Steve continues. “Tonight it’s Wayne, last week it was Dustin. Woke up from a nightmare, needing to talk to Eddie. Robin spends every other night at my house because when she wakes, she won’t remember immediately if I’m still there.”

Steve sighs and shakes his head, meeting Scott’s eyes with an almost helpless look. Resignation, he thinks. The aftermath of terrible things are still terrible things.

“You call, okay? Whatever it is, whatever you or Wayne need. Whatever the clock says, whatever… Call. Like you did tonight. Sometimes that’s all we can do. You did the right thing.”

It doesn’t feel like the right thing when it makes the circles under Steve’s eyes so dark or his shoulders slump so much.

“You shouldn’t have to do that.”

The boy scoffs, looking up at the night sky. “Yeah, well, it’s a bit late for that. Besides, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for this man.” Their eyes meet again. “He’ll be fine.”

They talk more and Steve asks him a lot of questions, wanting to know how Scott’s doing with all this, with the trauma, the nightmares, this thing that haunts everyone but him.

“I don’t understand it,” he admits at some point. “How could I? But I understand the implications, I see the way the three of you and some kids at school behave, I see the haunted looks, and all I can do is be here. So I’m here.”

Steve hums. “Yeah, that’s what we do.”

Scott anticipates more questions or some kind of reaction; but then the front door opens and a tired, teary-eyed Eddie steps outside. He immediately goes to wrap himself around Steve, leaning against him, trusting that the wall will hold both of them.

Steve doesn’t move, just wraps his arms around Eddie, carefully balancing the coffee behind his back.

“You okay?” he whispers.

Eddie shakes his head, burrowing into him further, and Steve brushes fluttering kisses all over the side of his face. Scott doesn’t mean to watch them, but seeing them so affectionate, so comforting, it wakes an ache inside him. Something that’s buried deep inside him, because as much as he loves to hold Wayne or brush a kiss to his lips, his cheek, his forehead, he’s never felt quite brave enough to do just that. Only that. The way Steve and Eddie are doing right now.

There are too many years behind him, the weight on his chest too heavy, his feet never as stable and steady as he wishes for them to be. Being affectionate with a man, with Wayne, is something that still leaves him reeling sometimes. Wrong-footed, with nowhere to find out, no one to ask.

But watching the boys, it makes him brave. Gives him something to mirror, something to copy, something to learn and teach himself.

Swallowing, he heads back inside, needing to look out for Wayne, to see if he’s fine, to reassure himself that everything is as alright as it can be.

In the living room, Wayne looks up immediately and his face crumbles a little at whatever he sees on Scott’s face, his arms lifting as if asking for a hug. It’s not a gesture he’d ever have connected with Wayne, but that doesn’t matter when it’s past four in the morning and the kitchen smells like coffee and nightmares.

He hugs his man tightly, cradling the back of his head gently.

“Don’t apologise,” he whispers into Wayne’s neck. “Just don’t.”

“Okay,” his love whispers back. “I will tomorrow, though.”

“That’s fine,” Scott says, smiling and feeling his eyes begin to sting. He holds Wayne a bit tighter. “Are you feeling okay?”

After hesitating a moment too long, Wayne shakes his head no. “Better though. Don’t, uh. Don’t let go?”

“Never.”

Moments of silence pass like that, just standing there, holding each other. Bravery in the early morning hours.

“Thanks for calling my boys,” Wayne breaks the silence after a while.

“Of course,” Scott whispers, daring to brush a kiss to Wayne’s brow. Remembering the way Steve held Eddie and showered him in affection, Scott dares. He dares to follow that kiss up with another, to his temple this time, and another to his forehead. They’re nothing like the quick butterfly kisses he just witnessed, no. They’re slow. Hesitant in their approach and determined in their message.

I’m here. You’re here. We’re safe.

Wayne doesn’t move, but Scott can feel his breath hitch a little. It makes him smile. He pulls back a little, pressing their foreheads together.

“Thank you,” Wayne whispers.

“For what?”

“Bein’ here. Staying. Everything.”

“I’ll stay as long as you’ll have me.”

And he means it. Through the nightmares, through the haunted silences, through spontaneous trips to see Eddie, through late night phone calls to make sure the present is unchanged. Through it all, he will stay. He will learn how to make Wayne smile after a nightmare just like he’ll learn how to make his coffee after work. He’ll learn about his relationship with Eddie just like he’ll learn about the way he prefers his sandwiches or his favourite songs and movies.

He’ll learn. It’s the thing he does best. And he’ll be patient, he’ll grow braver by the day.

Right now, though, he only holds his man and dares to move his thumb along his cheek in a gentle caress, feeling the stubble under his fingertips like his own personal reminder that everything will be just fine.

Steve and Eddie stay the night, Eddie sharing the bed with Wayne while Scott takes the couch and Steve stays awake. Scott wants to protest but Steve shuts him off with a smile and the promise that he’ll wake him if anything changes.

It must be another terrible thing, the way this boy puts himself last — but that’s something Scott can learn another day. Right now, he listens for the gentle laughter coming from the bedroom, the door cracked open, and smiles when Wayne lets out an exasperated, “Fredward Munson, it’s five o’clock in the morning, for the love of God, shut the fuck up and let me sleep.”

Eddie cackles and answers something Scott can’t quite make out. Soon after, silence settles over the trailer and Scott falls asleep, feeling oddly safe with Steve watching over them, as though it’s his personal mission to fend off the nightmares himself.

He makes a mental note to make the boy more coffee in the morning.

[hiraeth-witch-11]

Magnolia Jasmine Part 2

Part 2: His Very Own MJ

Warnings: canon typical stuff, nothing really

Word Count: 1300ish

In the days that followed the wasp men’s attack, the media has gone crazy over the appearance of a new vigilante. Not that you have any intention of returning back to the hero scene, no this had been a one off. No one else knew that, though. They all assumed you’d be back after your heroic debut. Names were being flung around as different outlets scrambled to be the one who coined your official name. Some of them were quite silly like ‘The Wasp Whisperer’ and ‘Mother Earth’. Others you could admit had a nice ring to them. ‘Briar’ was fun, even if it was a bit of an insult in some places. ‘Queen Bee’ was cute. ‘Meadow’ was one of your favorites. You diligently avoid anything comparing you to your mother’s alter ego. The media is clueless to your heritage, but it’s an obvious connection to draw between 2 plant controlling women.

Business booms as children request flowers to be put in their hair, couples are reminded that it’s been a while since they got their S/O a bouquet, and displays are made by businesses to take advantage of the flower hero and their 15 minutes of fame. You exercise caution with your powers over the next week or two, aware of the potential for scrutiny.

You are closing up one evening as the rain is finally starting to let up, when a boyishly handsome man with a mop of brown hair comes jogging up to your door, just as you are about to turn the sign. 

“Sorry, I know you’re ‘bout to close. Do you think I could grab a bouquet real quick before you close? I promised my aunt I would bring her some flowers for dinner tonight, but then I got caught up in the rain and I’m already running super late,” he pleads.

You smile as he rambles, it’s not like you have anything better to do with your evening. A few extra minutes don’t bother you.. “Sure, come on in.” You hold the door open for him and watch him track wet, dirty footprints through the front of the store.

I really need a better door mat, you think to yourself.

“Thank you, you’re a lifesaver. I’m Peter, by the way,” he says as he grabs a small bouquet from the shelf and takes it to the register.

“I’m Maggy,” you offer though it may be obvious with the sign out front. You ring him up, carefully wrapping up the flowers and putting a loose bag over the tops in case it starts raining again.

“Well, Maggy. It was great to meet you. I totally owe you one.” Peter sticks some change in your tip jar and makes his way back to the door, noticing the footprints he tracked in.

“Oh jeez, I am so sorry. Let me clean this up.”

“It’s okay, you’re late to dinner. Go, I don’t mind,” you say honestly.

“If I wasn’t running so late I would stay and clean it. I’m so sorry, my aunt raised me better than this. You sure you don’t mind?”

“I really don’t. Go, enjoy the flowers.” You smile reassuringly as he gives you an apologetic look, dashing out the door and down the street.

You grab the mop and laugh a little. You try not to hope that you’ll see him again. It was a big city, you could go the rest of your lives without your paths ever crossing again. But you know what they say: it might be a big city, but it’s a small world.

*********

A week or so passes before you see Peter again. It’s sometime in the afternoon and you’re doodling little flowers on receipt paper as you wait for another customer. It’s warm today, even in the shop and your red hair is pulled up off your neck with a claw clip. Your legs swing freely as you perch on the stool behind your counter. 

His hair is dry this time, though a bit messy, and in the sunlight, you can see how beautiful his chocolate brown eyes are. You can also see the gnarly shiner he has on his left eye. At the sight of him, you almost fall off your stool.

“Peter, what happened?” You blurt out in concern before you realize it would probably be more polite to ignore it.

“Oh, it’s fine, I just got mugged.” He says this all with a smile on his face, speeding past the whole ‘ and adding, “Anyways, I felt really bad about the other night and I wanted to come and apologize. I also feel like an idiot ‘cause I didn’t make the connection of your name and the shop.”

“It really is okay, Peter. I didn’t have anywhere else to be, I really didn’t mind. And yeah, Magnolia is a mouthful, it’s cool for a flower shop name, but I prefer Maggy or MJ.”

Peter looks at you with a mixture of surprise and awe. “MJ?”

“Yeah, my parents named me Magnolia Jasmine. You can’t even imagine how hard that is to get little kids to say. I went by MJ ‘til college.”

“Do you wanna get some coffee with me? I mean, obviously not now, I can see you’re busy, but some other time?” He’s all giddy energy, rocking back and forth on his heels, looking at you like you’re the moon and the stars. 

“I don’t even know you, Peter…?”

“Parker, Peter Parker. And isn’t that the point of a date, to get to know each other better?” He asks with a grin.

You aren’t necessarily opposed to it, you can’t deny the connection you feel, but you aren’t going to be stupid. Safe dating practices was something your dad has hammered into your brain since you were 13.

“Tell you what, I’ll think about it, and in the meantime,” you scribble your name and number on the receipt paper that is covered in various drawings of flowers, “here’s my number, Peter Parker.”

Peter takes the paper with a grin, glancing at it before pulling out his phone, an older model with an extremely cracked screen, and adding you to his contacts. Your phone vibrates in your back pocket and you check it in time to see a message from a new number that says ‘it’s peter parker :)’. 

“I gotta go to work, but I’ll text you later.” Peter ducks out the door. “Bye, MJ!”

*******

Peter hasn’t been able to get you off his mind since that first night when he tracked dirt through your store. You were absolutely beautiful with your red hair hanging loosely and your bright, hazel eyes. You had been wearing jeans and a gray t-shirt with some floral pun on it and he swore you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, dirt smudge on your cheek and all. He had made a note to visit you again as soon as he could.

Today, he had rushed to your store on his break. You’d been focused on your doodling when you looked up. He completely forgot that he was still healing a black eye, he should’ve waited another day. 

Peter had been completely flabbergasted when you said your name was MJ. Ever since he got back from his multiversal adventure, he’s been keeping an eye out for his very own MJ. It’s not like he had been searching for you actively, there are far too many MJs in the world for that to make sense. But the moment you told him, he just knew that you were the MJ meant to be in his life.

Before meeting his pseudo-brothers, Peter would have struggled to come to terms with any sort of new relationship. The most he was comfortable with was casual flings and friends held at arm’s length. But when he caught Peter 1’s MJ, it was like he could finally forgive himself for what happened with Gwen. He’s been doing better, been lighter, something May had commented on. Peter is ready to at least get to know you. He’ll do better this time around. He will keep the lives of Peter Parker and Spider-Man separate. He’ll make sure you don’t get hurt. He can keep you safe if it comes to it. He’s certain of it.

*******

Let me know if you want to be added to or taken off a tag list! Feedback is the spice of life, any and all thoughts are welcome.

Series Taglist: sunflowers-4, dark-night-sky-99

Peter Parker Taglist:

Everything Taglist: @kayhi808

[terra-feminarum]

Thank you for being here. I might not always agree with what you say but your posts are thoughtful and nuanced and you carry the energy of a great philosopher with you.

It's a pleasure to have you on my dash.

And I might be just emotional tonight for unrelated reasons but reading your post about how societal changes are fast and women are getting fed up really helped me.

Thank you.

I'm glad to hear. I'm also glad to hear you don't always agree with everything I say but you still find it valuable. I don't agree with everything I've said a year ago, and I probably won't agree with my future self either. I think thinking, writing and having conversations is the best one can do to try to make sense of things, and hopefully that clumsy process will lead to better outcomes than sticking to one opinion for the rest of one's life.

I invite you and others to disagree with me in public, maybe we could try having respectful disagreements and learn? I ask this selfishly as I'm actually very bad at disagreeing and am very quick-tempered and would like to learn something else.

About societal changes being fast: they are. I always give trans issues as an example because that's the one I've lived through and participated in, for better or worse. It was a fringe phenomenon and now it's what it is. I've seen gay rights advance, too, though I didn't participate in that but rather just enjoyed the fruits. I remember when it was illegal to write or talk publicly about homosexuality in a way that might be interpreted to advocate homosexuality. And now the most popular presidential candidate in my country is openly gay.

Now I'm just rambling but I have hope for a change. One reason is really that so many women seek to escape womanhood by identifying out of it: this is an expression of suffering. This is better than not even realizing you suffer. I doubt it will be an identity they will keep for the rest of their lives, and what then? Where they will turn after that? There are so many women who seem to be fed up in other ways. Younger women are critical of hook-up culture and porn industry and that was such a surprise for me and I've learned so much from them. Women are realizing they've been sold shit. The ecological situation causes more and more people to look into the values that has caused the destruction in the first place and that will have a profound effect: these are men's values and what they do with nature, they do with us, too. This is a time for profound changes in our value systems and the iron is hot, so to speak. Of course others see that too so there will be competition, but I believe there is a good chance women will gain some serious wins.

[annieintheaair]

Cold Lavender Towels / The Dash

I was at yoga tonight, totally sweating it out, literally dripping from my forehead, and my clothes felt like I had gone for a swim, and I just kept thinking about the end -- when I'd get to lay down for savasana with a cold, lavender towel.

I don't do it as much anymore but when I would read novels a lot, I'd read the end first because I wanted to not only know that it would have a happy ending but I wanted to see how the characters got to the end. I do this with reality TV, too; I'll check Reality Steve to find out the ending before the season even begins.

I can't help myself -- I love to know what happens in the end. It's not just about the end and that it's happy but I want to know what happens to get there. Like being in my yoga classes, I know that no matter what happens during the class, it will end with savasana and a cold, lavender towel. It's like a reward for making it to the end of the class.

How many times in life do we want to know how it all ends? I mean, we know that eventually, life ends with death, but in those chapters in our life, how does each chapter end?

In the movie I was watching the other day, they talked about "The Dash". When you die and they put your birth date and death dates on your headstone, there's a dash between the two. Everything that is your life is The Dash. It's not about the beginning or the end but everything that happens in between.

I'm a little impatient at times, constantly wanting to know how it all ends. I want to know that all of it has a happy ending. I want to know that all of the effort, pain, struggles, all of it, was worth it. I hate the not knowing.

I feel like, in so much of my life, I've been waiting for that "happy ending". There's a song I love called When's It Gonna Happen by Tenille Townes:

Never been good at expectations I think I expect too much But if it's any consolation I still believe in love

Sometimes I feel like I'm the last one standin' I look around and all my friends are fallin' in love I'm scared to death, I'll end up empty-handed Can't be the only one

Thinkin' when's it gonna happen, happen to me Know it's supposed to happen naturally When's it gonna happen to me?

It's hard sometimes, when you live your life always being happy for other people, feeling like there will never be an opportunity for others to be happy for you, too. It's not to say that there aren't great things in my life, but it's not easy always feeling like you're falling behind and you start to wonder if you deserve happiness at all. -- You do, but sometimes it doesn't feel like it.

I recognize that there has been a lot of good in this past year of my life but that doesn't eliminate the fact that this year has been difficult and extremely challenging. I'm so grateful to my parents for buying this house to rent to me but it's heartbreaking that no matter what I did, I never found a way to love it here. I never loved the location but I loved the house. The one word that describes this whole last year is heartbreaking. I feel so much guilt about all of it, feeling like I failed because I couldn't feel at home here. I've tried to find the positives in every day here but no matter what, I still feel like I'm not myself and I miss my old life.

I was looking at apartments online today and saw that the apartment I lived in from January 2018 until June 2019 is going to be available in June. I paid $1599/month when I lived there but now, the best rate is $1937. As it turns out, you can go home again, but it's going to cost you.

I loved a lot of things about that apartment but most of all, I loved it most because that was the apartment I lived in when I brought my dog, Ellie, home for the first time. We lived there for the first year (and beyond) of her life. It will always hold a special place in my heart. That was the one home that Ellie and I had where it was just the two of us.

I know I keep saying that I want my old life back but the truth is, I really want a better life. I want pieces of the life I loved mixed with even better things. I want this life I'm building in the future to be filled with so many wonderful things and happy memories to come. I want my future to be void of heartbreak because God knows I've had enough of that.

Most days, I'm tired of constantly starting over. I think, when I look at my life up to this point, at one time or another, I had all of the pieces of a perfect, wonderful life. Maybe they didn't all happen at the same time so maybe I don't really need to start completely over. Maybe, the future is a matter of gathering all of the lost pieces of the lives I lived and loved before.

Even if I don't know when the "cold lavender towel" of my life will be arriving, I know that eventually, as I live through The Dash, someday, I'll get to enjoy the cold lavender towel that is the end of each and every chapter of my life.

xoxo

Annie

[emptypassicn-moved]

@nebula-drcams        sent ;;

        “   comes in here and is a menace in ur askbox by throwing my url at you ”

From ;; Send me your URL and I’ll tell you // Accepting Only Tonight

My Opinion on; Star (@/nebula-drcams)

Character in general: Star writes many canon characters but I will choose a few to comment on.

In canon I never cared much for Damien. The fact he's a little gremlin was amusing, sure, but he was never exactly all that interesting to me. I didn't get the fixation on him outside of just "Oh, other people ship him with Pip and that's why he's popular". Mole, on the other hand, I enjoy greatly. Obviously with how he's one of my two top primary muses. He barely existed for most of the movie but he certainly memorable to me for many reasons. He's also a favorite for many reasons.

Then, of course, Star has her OCs. Most notably, Nimue. While I can't really comment on my "opinions on the character in general" as if she was a canon character I can comment on my typical feelings towards OCs. I'm not usually the type to take to OCs. I never liked writng my own OCs, despite having them slowly being added to my blog now, and also never liked writing with other people's OCs. Far too many bad experiences.

How they play them: To put it simply, Star writes both canons and her own OC well.

I disliked most Damiens I've written with for various reasons. I'm always initially hesitant to write with them due to those reasons but Star's has been the exception. Her Damien is great, I like how he's written, even if he's honestly pretty opposite to how I write my own (SP) Damien. I don't really gush about my muse relations openly but I enjoy how my Mole and her Damien are friends. Her Damien is, quite literally, my Mole's closest and most trusted friend even if they are menaces to one another. I also like how she's written Damien when it comes to interacting with my Pip who, notably, does not like Damien very much usually. Her Damien was the only one I've ever written with so far that acknowledged he fucked up, he hurt Pip, and was willing to just avoid Pip to avoid him being uncomfortable. I can't really openly state certain things I've discussed with her about Damien and my own muses but some stuff we've talked about with them is great to me and he is the only Damien I "GRIPS (affectionate)".

I also tend to dislike most Moles I've written with. They're too soft or too much of an asshole, they can't comprehend a decent in between. Also, Mole is just a muse I squint more frequently at due to his status as one of my top two primary muses. But her Mole has been pretty good. I have had some minor squints at the portrayal but those weren't necessarily her fault. I also do adore the verse I have specific to my Gregory for her Mole too. It's a stupid trope more than likely, so that's how you know it was my suggestion, but I do enjoy it.

Nimue I do enjoy immensely as a character, I do enjoy hearing about her from Star and reading posts about her when they come onto my dash. She gets both the prize of the first OC I'd agreed to write against, outside of a public chat rp setting, in years and the first OC for me to willingly ship with in years. She's a well thought out OC with effort put into her even if her basic backstory / background can be a bit cliche or squinty. But, even with that, Star works that specific trope in OCs well. She doesn't make Nimue pull any "woe is me" shit over her struggles in life which many OCs with similar sounding backstories have. Nimue is special sort of OC in my opinion, to say the least.

The Mun: Star is neat.

She's quite nice, to be honest. She's also basically the reason I remained on Tumblr after initially feeling terrible about some shit on one of my "old" blogs I'd say. She's also basically been the one to help me in comprehending certain things about Tumblr based roleplay since previously I solely roleplayed in places that functioned completely differently. She's very understanding about the fact that I'm an awfully slow writer at times, communicates with me, and in general puts up with me. Hell, she's even let me force into watching various things about my interests. From GHS to various versions of GE to different versions of Les Mis to DT17 + DWD and also other shit. The only real "issues" I can ever recall having with Star are through a poor statement on my part and me occasionally not really "getting" certain things when we talk. Also her sending me that fucking dancing toothless gif-- /j

Do I:

RP with them: Yes.

Want to RP with them: Of course.

What is my;

Overall Opinion: Very cool. Very epic.

Shout out to the poly. /j

**Note: Mun’s answer are all to be completely honest. Don’t send url if you don’t want brutal honesty

[crimsonblackrose]

I do love the “tonight on the Equalizer” openings where they do what we’d think of today as spoiling the episode. Because this one...absolutely no clue what’s going to happen. Little girl calls the equalizer because the random adult guy in her life who believes he’s from another planet has people attacking him? Fascinating. I do kind of like these. I kind of miss them too. It’s why I think if I see enough gifs or something on my dash I might watch something because those are essentially a form of advertising the show, kind of like the old “Tonight on ____”. Like yes, I kind of want to watch that horror film because it’s been on my dash a lot or I do kind of want to watch that show. Because I don’t have enough context for it to be a spoiler even though I’m sure my dash is full of spoilers.

I cannot tell whether she believes him or just is like you weirdo, you are really not an alien from outer space but I’ll still keep you safe Mr. sewer man. 😅

Hi Mr. McCall, thank you for coming. My favorite random guy who lives in the sewers is in danger. He says an alien race is coming to kill us all. Okay what she actually says is “I better let him tell you whose following him. 😅”

This child’s facial expressions are great. (Another Home Alone actor) Mr. McCall: Shouldn’t you be in school? Child: Uhhh..... Also she saw him get hit by a car and helped him and that’s how she met Seti.

Amber: Seti, what’s wrong? Seti: I was told if I hug the earth they can’t find me.

“This is my friend Seti.” “I gathered.”

Seti: There’s darkness in you, and some light, you’ve been through a lot haven’t you? Mr. McCall: Oh dear oh dear oh dear Okay alright. Child I’ve got this, you go to school.

Seti: Don’t worry this one has a torn soul. Mr.McCall: A torn what?

Seti: There are only two kinds of sentient beings in the universe, builders and destroyers and you have been both. You are now an interstellar defender. Only you can help me. (Obi-wan you are my only hope)

local cryptid sighting.

Mickey: Hey! my dad said I had to come here and hang out with you, come back.

Seti, why does it look like you’re about ready to kiss Mikey? You know, just your average day in New York City. Knock on a door that leads down into the bowels of the city and a man (er...intergalactic being) pops up and kisses you and then tells you he won’t ride in your car because it burns holes in the sky but he will go for a walk with you because he’s starting to enjoy his legs.

Mickey, another torn soul, enjoy your date. Congrats on your new friend. Mickey looks so confused.

I love when they bring minor characters back. I feel like this psychiatrist that Wendell Pierce played had to have been a lot of fun. I mean in one scene he just takes a nap. Love that for him.

How do we show the inside of a kaleidoscope? How about computer screen saver?

They’re having a fun time going through Seti’s things.

Mr. McCall brings Amber and her mom for a visit with Seti and Seti has rigged Mr. McCall’s entire apartment to be the loudest siren filled place as soon as the door opens and then as soon as Mr. McCall steps in he’s like “I did good right? Don’t you love it?”

“Do you know where the brightest galaxy and collection of stars are?”

“No, where?”

“Inside of you.” You’re a collection of stars, made up of the universe so no matter what you’ll never be alone and even in the city where it’s hard to see the starlight, I’ll always be with you.

I like that everyone liked Seti. Like even the mom was like my daughter went out dad shopping and she picked the weirdest guy she could find and I approve of that for her.

“Are you telling me that thing he’s been carrying around isn’t from our planet?”

Mickey: “Hey man NASA doesn’t know.”

[tocapturethisvoice]

.

[itsnotyouithink]

HALLOWEEN ROMANCE

pairing: fem!reader x cheryl blossom

summary: reader goes to a halloween party and her crush on cheryl blossom continues.

warnings: smoking, underage drinking, parental abuse

a/n: happy halloween to all who celebrate & please be careful tonight!!

not my gif!

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Riverdale has spooky Halloweens. It may be from the haunting spirits that walk the streets and get a booth in Pop’s Diner on the daily, or just because it’s Riverdale — and Riverdale is spooky. The Devil’s holiday was a year long thing in the town. Everyday felt like Halloween for civilians of the small town. You felt like your life was the holiday on repeat — you were just dressing as yourself with a fake mask.

You felt like Halloween wasn’t much of a big deal. The only thing you truly liked about it was the dressing up. The iconic Mean Girls quote bounced off the walls of your brain when you argued with your brother as you two got out of the car, “In Girl World, Halloween is the one day a year when a girl can dress up like a total slut and no other girls can say anything else about it.” You quoted to yourself and your brother beside you who rolled his eyes.

Your brother, Sweetpea, had been ranting about how you dressed too sexy and exposed, afraid some guy was going to try to make a pass at you. You were dressed as Lola Bunny from Looney Tunes, a character you had admired since you heard about her. The costume was more exposed than you generally dressed from day-to-day. Short shorts, a crop top that was basically a sports bra and bunny ears. “Come on, Sweets! Stop being like this, you know I never dress like this.”

“So why are you starting now?” He squinted his eyes at you. You know his argument was coming from a place of kindness and being the protective brother he was, but it was still annoying.

“Just give me a break, please?” You huffed, “By tomorrow, I’ll be back in my cute little Betty Cooper dress with a Serpent jacket, don’t you worry.” You rolled your eyes and poked the sides of your brooding brother who just rolled his eyes once more.

Then a thought popped into his small mind.

“You’re dressed like that for Cheryl Blossom.” He snapped his fingers in front of your face. The two of you were walking down the crowed driveway of Thistlehouse. It was the night of Halloween, and Cheryl Blossom had decided to throw a Halloween bash.

“I’m not.”

“You so are.”

“No I am not!”

“You’re blushing and everything!” He laughed and pointed at your blushing cheeks at the thought of your crush on the schools most popular girl. You have had a crush on Cheryl since the closing of Southside High and the enrollment to Riverdale High. You were expected to hate her because you were a Serpent, but you couldn’t help but be completely drawn in by her.

You never said anything about liking her to her ever, especially once she started dating Toni Topaz — one of your old kindergarten best friends. Your friendship had died out even if she was best friends with your brother and mutual friends.

The two of you got to the front door before inviting yourselves in, quickly seeing your close circle of friends by the corner.

“Y/N! Look at you!” Kevin whistled as the duo got closer. You blushed as your friends complimented you each, Veronica squeezing your arm, “Damn, you look hot!”

Archie rolled his eyes before taking Veronica by her hips and back into his chest, “Yeah, Y/N you look good. Great costume.” Him and Veronica dressed as Hercules and Megara.

“Thanks, Arch.”

“You look amazing, Y/N/N. I see you’re getting out your comfort zone.” Betty commented playfully as she took a sip from her red cup. You lightly chuckled before noticing her outfit as well, her and Jughead dressed as Sandy in the latex suit and Danny Zuko from Grease, “I could say the same to you, Betts. I see you’re in the last musical number of Grease.”

“Don’t I just look positively dashing in my costume?” Jughead sarcastically said, pushing out jazz hands towards you, referring to his Serpent leather jacket and sloppily slicked back hair. You rolled your eyes before taking the drink Sweetpea handed towards you, “Sure, Jug. Sure.”

After that, the group fell into light conversation that was filled with laughs and jokes. “I see Choni is back together.” Veronica commented, taking a sip of her alcohol as she eyed the ex-couple.

“What?” You furrowed your brows before glancing towards Sweetpea and looking behind you at the sight. You knew you never had an actual shot with Cheryl, but the fact she wasn’t dating Toni anymore helped the hope that filled in your chest that maybe, just maybe, she would like you back.

You felt like you couldn’t compete with a girl like Toni Topaz, who was perfect in every way.

Cheryl and Toni had a couples costume. The redhead was Poison Ivy while Toni was Harley Quinn. They looked perfect.

And yet.

You sighed and turned back around with a shrug, “They’re Choni, how could they not?”

No one else knew about your crush on Cheryl besides Sweetpea. It was stupid for you to tell him because he constantly made jokes about it and teased you til the sun rose. You expected him to hate you for it, but it was the opposite. He hadn’t seen you so head-over-heels for someone since your ex-girlfriend from Southside High, who thankfully got transferred to Seaside High. That relationship was the definition of a heartbreak mess.

“Have you guys seen what Ethel is wearing?” And just like that, the topic was dropped.

—

After you danced with Veronica and your friends a few times, you went outside to get fresh air and away from the sweaty bodies and atmosphere that surrounded you. You found a door by the dining table that lead to the quiet outside porch. When you slid the door open, Cheryl Blossom was leaning against the wooden railing with a cigarette between her fingers and a face of confusion.

You thought about going inside but as soon as you turned, she spoke to you. “You can join me, if you want. I don’t bite.” She took another hit from her cigarette before her arm hung over the side of the railing lazily, she blew the smoke with a soft cloud.

“I didn’t take you as a smoker.”

She shrugged, “Daddy smoked all the time before he died. So did Jason.” she cleared her throat, looking off to the dark, midnight distance, “I don’t usually smoke.”

You nodded before taking your spot beside her, your forearms leaning against the wooden banister like she was. She held the cigarette in front of you, offering it to you. You took it before placing it in your lips — you felt her watching you. “I didn’t take the golden girl of the Southside as a smoker either.”

You blew the smoke from your lips easily, “I grew up in a biker gang, what did you expect?” The two of you lightly giggled before you shook your head, “I actually got smoking from my father too. He does it everyday, all the time. Our trailer, clothes, furniture — all of it, smells like his cigarettes. They’re so normal that you even get burned with them.”

The redhead rose her eyebrows before glancing towards you, who now looked into the midnight distance. You glanced at her, her brown eyes melting into your own. “I tend to overshare.” You airily chuckled before passing the cigarette back to the redhead.

“According to Toni, I don’t share enough.” She quietly scoffed. You smiled towards the redhead with a smirk, “Aw, trouble in paradise?”

She rolled her eyes at you, “Shut up.”

“I was just joking, Cheryl.” You laughed at the small pout on her lips. “If you, like, need to talk .. I’m here.”

She looked over at you and sighed, a few beats of silence, “I broke up with her because I was attracted to someone else and I couldn’t disrespect Toni with having feelings for her and someone else. And .. we didn’t plan on going as Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn together it just . . . happened.”

You couldn’t lie and say your heart didn’t sing at the fact she was indeed single and she had a crush on someone that could be you. “What’s the problem besides an accidental couples costume.”

“I’m not sure the girl I like, likes me back.” She looked at you with masked hopeful eyes. She wanted some type of clue to see if you liked her back, but you kept up tall, guarded walls around you when it came to romance and relationships. There was a rumor you had a thing for Veronica, but that was quickly denied. But even after that, the towns most strategic and sneakiest gossips couldn’t get to the bottom of who the golden girl from the Southside wanted to truly date and fall in love with.

You glanced at her with a shrug, “Tell her you like her. If she doesn’t, then she’s simply a fool.” You left it at that and walked back inside where you felt like you took your first true deep breath.

“Y/N! Where were you? We should dance!” Veronica took your hand and tried guiding you into the pool of sweaty, drunk high schoolers but you were pulled away by your other hand and pushed into someone.

You were pulled into Cheryl’s chest, you hands on the side of her shoulders to catch yourself.

The next thing you knew, she had her hand on your cheek, a hand on your waist and her lips on yours. It was warm, and gentle, a kiss you had been dreaming and imagining about since the middle of sophomore year. “Are you a fool, Y/N?” She mumbled when the two of you pulled away.

You cheeks were red, your pupils were dilated and your skin burned with her touch. “I suppose not, Blossom.” The two of you smiled before she kissed you again, and again, and again.

The entire night was filled with dancing, Cheryl Blossom with her hands on your waist as you refilled your cup of alcohol, and the never ending teasing of your friends.

Maybe Halloween wasn’t as terrible as you thought it would be.

[deadricslover]

"my heaven on earth"

here's my Masterlist!

he is so fucking attractive omg

a/n: not my gif! I got this as a request but I deleted it on accident😬. your requests are so good and because of that I would never tell u f off. maybe we should team up? im kidding don't worry. Was this a trope in a book? I think it was.

If you're in a relationship like the reader in this then please don't hesitate to get help. like Bruce says towards the end of this 'you have a right to be sad, even if he can't see that his behaviour is hurting you then that's enough'. that will make more sense when you read it lol. there are so many people or there for you so there's no need not to go to them <;3

summary: Richard is your soon to be ex boyfriend who has a tendency to act out and make you feel bad about yourself. One night you have had enough of it and decide to leave him for good this time, you don't have any other option but to go to your best friend Bruce for comfort and boy that is what he gave you.

warnings: mental abuse, angst, body dysmorphia, use of y/n, sexism, body shaming, language, pet names, pls tell me if I missed anything!

pairings: bale!Bruce Wayne X fem! reader. oc!ex bf X fem!reader

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

Lord, you adored your boyfriend, Richard. He was great in every way. In every way, from setting up dates, prioritizing you, in bed and everything else that comes with being in a partnership. You'd go to any length for him, and he'd reciprocate. You'd say meeting him was the most memorable experience of your life.

But you also despised him. Every blood cell in his body, every word he said, every strand of hair on his head, his odour, practically everything about that jerk. Your relationship with Richard was so perplexing; one minute you despised his guts, the next you loved him and felt sorry for him because of all you said to him in the previous argument. Nobody knew about it, you didn't know who to turn to for help, and even if you did, you'd think you were being dramatic because maybe this is how a normal relationship works. 'No matter how big or small, if it's making you feel that horrible, it has to be fixed' your best friend, Bruce, used to say when you're sad. You had no idea what you had done to deserve him. You couldn't talk to Bruce about Richard since he knew him and might not believe you.

You were currently waiting for Richard to return from who knows where to his flat. There was no need for him to be angry with you tonight because you had cleaned the place and made dinner. So you thought. When the stench of burning touched your nose, you panicked and dashed over to check the timer, only to discover you had set it for ten hours instead of one. How did you do that? The dish had been baking for about two hours. Is it possible to save it? No way, because the bottom of the oven pasta you cooked had turned black and crunchy. The front door flew open at precisely the right moment.

"People are such jerks," he screams, slamming his keys on the table and pausing for a moment to catch his breath and re-compose himself. Your fear grows as you realize he could turn on you.

"Welcome home," you say with your back to him, trying not to make any assumptions. People can be angry for a short period of time, right? Richard, apparently not. He takes his hands away from his face and asks

"Baby, what's the smell?"

"Oh, silly me just burned dinner. It's not a big problem. we can order takeout."

"Take out?! again?! Do you want me getting fat?! Get a life, I don't want to look like you." Angry, he says, hurting your feelings over again. You think you'd get used to this, but you really don't. Each time it feels like your heart gets ripped out over and over again and in your eyes, you gain five pounds each time too.

"Fine. What do you want?" You turn around, visibly irritated.

"I don't know! While men are at work, women are supposed to take care of dinner! Not burn it and starve me! "He says loudly, startling you and making you fear that there will be another fallout. Goosebumps rise on your skin as your eyes expand slightly in panic. You're not sure what came over you at the time, but something did, and you regret it deeply.

"that's it. Richard, I'm sick to death of you constantly making me feel like shit! You treat me as though I'm useless, and I hate it."

"Do I? yeah? Sounds familiar, right? kinda similar to how you treat yourself maybe?" He says this as he approaches your face, crouching down slightly to reach your level. That was an experience you'd never forget. Tears welled up in your eyes from anguish and hurt, but mostly from disbelief. You know what Richard is like, but you never expected him to go that far. But then again, with him, you never know.

"Are you fucking crying?! Are you fucking kidding me? Grown ass woman crying over the smallest thing. Woman, I'm just telling you the truth and if you can't handle that then you're weaker than I ever fucking thought" He continues to rant. You're trying to block out his snide remarks, but the next stage of Richard's meltdowns usually has you feeling sorry for him. You do your hardest not to listen in, but it's difficult with Richard because he's so loud. How come your neighbors haven't phoned 911 or even been over to see if we're all right every fucking night when the screaming starts? I'm at a loss for words, I haven't a clue.

"yeah, Dick, I have a reason to cry, like usual! You, the meanest fucker on the planet, are continuously hurting my feelings, dragging me down, and making me feel worthless. I'm done with this bullshit; I couldn't care less. Do whatever you want with me; I'm leaving." You vehemently exclaim. He hates it when you call him dick but it's the perfect time for it isn't it. You've tried to leave before, but he always finds a way to keep you or force you to return. You never left, whether it was 'weeping' or seducing you. Until Now. You dash to your room, grabbing your wallet, shoes, and jacket before pushing past Richard and racing out the door, ignoring his pleadings and begs.

You made it out of the building and onto the sidewalk without him chasing you down or shouting at you from his window to stay. You didn't know where to go. For the first time in your life, you were at a loss. You had no idea what to do next because it was incredibly late and you knew there would be no coffee shops open to let you camp there and to figure out your next move. Going to your family was out of the question because they were too far away and you also didn't want to bother them or them asking what was going on and why you were here. A thought occurred to you. Bruce. He is usually out at ungodly hours, but you couldn't risk it. But what other option did you have? You begin walking with only yourself and your thoughts, making your way to The all-too-familiar Wayne tower. Once you reach your destination through the dark streets and past the odd cat meowing at you, you take a deep breath and gather strength for the knock you'll make on the door a few moments after. The door swings open to Bruce in a hoodie, clearly already awake before your arrival.

"Y/n. what are you doing here? It's the middle of the night"

"i'm sorry" you squeak out and he instantly knows your sad.

" Come inside and get a blanket, the heater's not working so they're the only source of warmth I have right now" he says, his voice tired and gravelly.

Bruce couldnt piece together what it was but he knew you needed comforting. So that's what he's going to give you. He saw it was you standing infront of the door through the window so he did something rash and turned off the heater on the way to the door so it would give him an exuse to be closer to you in hopes of giving you some comfort without instantly hugging you like he wanted so desperately to do.

"Sorry for barging in this early in the morning" you squeak out still not having the energy to say anything louder.

"I enjoy your company at all hours, Y/n. It's actually perfect, I was up anyway and bored for something to do and you being here is the best thing for that" He tells you the truth somehow mysteriously knowing exactly what you needed to hear. Tears welled in your eyes at the comment and you couldn't help but let them form. Bruce saw this and immediately stepped forward to give you the most comforting hug possible, Wrapping his arms around your shoulders, you reciprocating the action around his waist while he places his chin on top of your hair nuzzling his nose into your locks letting you sob quietly for a few moments. Bruce slowly brings the two of you over to the couch sitting down where he was previously alone and tucks the blanket around you, taking the wallet and phone out of your hands and placing them on the coffee table before removing your jacket for added comfort. Moments more go by and his natural scent is slowly comforting you and calming you down. Bruce knew this too, so he slowly stopped planting gentle kisses to your head and moved his head back to see your puffy face.

"You wanna tell me what's up? Why your pretty face is stained with tears?" he enquires gently with a soft face filled with remorse.

"It's nothing I'm just being dramatic" you reply knowing already that he is going to say something your middle aged mom would say when your were younger.

"sweetheart, if it's bothering you that much then it's clearly not nothing. You can talk to me" he says as he starts rubbing circles on your upper arm with his thumb

"No, really it's ok I just had nowhere else to go"

"No where else to go? could you not go home to Richard?" he asks confused. A wave of panic washes over you when he asks this because you would have no reason not to go home usually. You stare at Bruce in thought for a few moments trying to come up with ideas for a lie, but nothing pops into mind.

"Y/n, Why couldn't you go back to Richard?" He says as his face drops in realisation. Notice how he didn't say 'home' he said 'back to Richard?'. I have no problem going home, as long as Richard isn't there.

"I...uhm...it's- it's complicated you wouldn't understand" you stall in thought

"oh, hon. I think I do" His eyes now glimmer with sadness. You shake your head in response not being able to form a sentence right now in fear you will fuel Bruce's theories that are completely correct. This is exactly why you didn't want to come here, Bruce would feel bad, hate Richard and possibly go after him. You hated putting this on Bruce but then again you had nobody or nowhere else to go. He grabs you and gently pulls you in cautious that you may not be up for any more physical touch.

"y/n, does Richard scare you?" he asks gently to which you nod your head hesitantly

"well, does he hurt you... mentally or physically?" he continues to which again you just nod.

"both?" he asks in disbelief. You shake your head and back away to look at his face

"no" you squeak out

"then, which one?" you can't even think about it any more so you just break down again feeling like you're annoying Bruce with this whole situation

"I need to hear you say it, sweets" he presses.

you explain with heaps of hesitation what was going on and Bruce's reaction to it all was the hardest part to endure. His lips turned downwards as his eyes started to fill with tears. He looked like a sad lost puppy. His dark eyebrows furrowing in sadness and confusion, him stopping drawing circles on your upward bent knee when he takes in a new piece of information that kept getting worse as the story went on. But overall Bruce listened the entire time comforting you but also not pressuring you to talk about it as he knows that you may not feel up to it right now. He seems to have restricted his physical touch on you because he's not sure if you're completely comfortable with it. He couldn't even imagine that someone would want to do something like that- especially to you! In Bruce's eyes you are the most perfect human being, inside and out. You're bubbly, kind personality boosting your physical appearance was the most comforting presence to him and seeing that all of that has been broken down by someone boils his blood, but most of all makes him feel endless amounts of pity towards you. When you are ending your paragraph, Bruce sees that you are fiddling with the seam of your hoodie sleeve while stalling and not telling him the next part straight away. He realises that this is something you want to keep to yourself for a bit so he respects that and interrupts your jumble of nonsense.

"you don't have to." he coos softly as his left hand that is draped over the back of the couch behind you plays with your hair lightly.

"You have no idea how sorry for you I am, petal. But I'm so so proud of you that you got away from him and told me about it, because that must have been so hard to do. It must have taken so much bravery that I know you have because you are one of the strongest people I know and I applaud you for that. Why didn't you come to me sooner?" you can hear his voice quivering in sadness although he tries to mask it for your sake.

"I don't want you feeling sorry for me, Bruce. But telling someone about a situation like this is unbelievably hard to do. And I thought maybe I was being overly sensitive about it and th-" Bruce had to take a second to process what you just said. He couldn't believe that you would even think that.

"Hey. No. You are not being sensitive about any of this. What you just told me showed how big of an asshole he is, you are definitely not being overdramatic. Why would you even think that?! And even if none of what you just told me was true --which it is-- you have a right to be sad, if he can't see that his behaviour is hurting you then that's enough." God, you were thankful you had someone as perfect as Bruce in your life. If you didn't you had no idea what you would do, you were unbelievably lucky to have him.

"I love you, Bruce, thank you for everything"

"I love you so much more. There's no need to be thankful, anybody would do this for their favourite person" he replies melting your heart for the one thousandth time.

"You can take my bed, I'll stay on the couch. Okay?" he inquires hearing your uneven, lazy breaths and seeing your yawns

"No, I couldn't ask you to do that. I'll go back home it's alright. He's probably asleep now" you try to reason but Bruce was not having it.

"No. That is not happening. I will go over tomorrow to get your stuff and you are going to stay here with me, you never have to see that bastard ever again. You hear me?" wow, he's perfect. You put on a thankful face and throw yourself forward for a hug which he instantly reciprocates and squeezed you slightly, kissing the top of your head.

"Promise me two things?" you ask in hope

"anything" he responds

"one. you don't beat him up when you go over tomorrow." you state which earns a heartfelt soft laugh from him. feeling his vibrations from the sound and the way his body moved when he let it out was one of the best feelings.

"no promises. He did make my heaven on earth feel miserable" he had to stop this or else you're going to fall in love with him....................

"I'm serious, Wayne. And second. You stay with me in your bed. I don't want to be alone. I already felt so alone before this so."

"of course, my love. anything for you." right there and then you felt safe. you knew everything would be ok and Bruce would be there for you no matter what happens like the god he is.

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

PT.2 here!

[yelenabelovasbxtch]

Premiere Night

Florence Pugh X F!reader

a/n: Hi everyone! Remember the story "The Coffee Shop"? So many people asked for a part two and I wasn't sure how to proceed but then I got this request from @kkeduwjdjje and I thought it would make a wonderful continuation of the story! So, if you have not read the coffee shop you can read it -> here

Happy reading!

Word Count: 2281

Concept: You go to your first premiere night with Florence. Being the new "it" couple, all eyes are on you.

Warnings: Not proofread, part two, fluff!

Taglist: @jeyramarie @flosbelova @bridgecitybrad @justthis-stuff @chloe7076 @ailenepuff @3xbyrn320 @thorya22 @ravenclawbitch426 @mellowladyangel @wandanatvoid @amcg0615

You were getting ready to head out for the premiere of your girlfriend's new movie. The two of you are a somewhat fresh and new couple (at least in Hollywood’s eyes). You and Florence have been together for about a year now but as far as the media is concerned, it’s only been two months, therefore, you were currently one of the “it” couples, trending all over the internet. Tonight, all eyes were going to be on the two of you. Being someone who works a small job in architecture with a photography hobby and is not often in the public eye you were feeling nervous about walking the red carpet, especially next to your absolutely drop-dead gorgeous girlfriend. Florence was special, the two of you met at a coffee shop and although you didn’t even recognize her at first, you still fell in love within seconds of spotting her. From there, your relationship blossomed but more so behind the scenes. She didn’t want you to be bombarded with paparazzi photos all the time or feel pressured to be out in the open, exposed to the world. After about ten months of being together, you told her you were ready to be public and boy was she over the moon. She had been absolutely dying to show you off. You settled on a nice black suit with a white button-down undershirt that is not done up all the way. Just enough buttons were left undone to reveal your necklace and part of your chest. You decided to partner this look with a beautiful pair of high heels.

*Ding*

Florence: Hey babes, I’m outside in the car whenever you’re ready <3

You smile wide as you read her text. You have the absolute most excitement right now not only to see your beautiful girlfriend but to finally see this movie she’s been working on for quite some time. As the excitement is rushing through your body, a wave of anxiety follows. You were definitely feeling anxious about being exposed to so many people, cameras and fans. You knew that everyone was going to be talking about the two of you tonight and you felt nervous. You decided to try your best to push it down as you headed downstairs to meet Florence outside your place. As you got into the back of the limo you see her and your breath quite literally got taken away.

“Holy shit–” You say.

Florence looks at you and laughs as her nose scrunches up.

“Sorry– Excuse my language but you look fucking gorgeous.”

Florence was wearing the most beautiful turquoise dress and her hair since grown back in the last year and is back to blonde. She has it done up in an extremely complicated way paired with the most beautiful necklaces.

“You look dashing too my love.” She says.

You barely even heard her compliment you were still trying to take in the perfect picture of beauty before you.

“So, how are you feeling about tonight y/n?”

“I am super excited! You’ve been talking so much about this movie and I can’t wait to see it.”

“Aha, that’s great love and I can’t wait for you to see it but I more so meant how are you feeling about being in the public eye tonight? I know this will be our first big event together as a public couple and trust me I know how overwhelming these things can be. So, I just want to make sure your experience is as smooth as possible.”

“I’m feeling a tad nervous but I feel like that is to be assumed. Don’t worry about me too much, as long as I’m with you tonight that’s all that matters. Besides, I think I’ll be too busy looking at you all night to even realize there are other people there.” You reply. “God, you’re perfect you know that?” She says as she leans in for a kiss.

The two of you pull up to the premiere as you get ready to exit the limo straight onto the red carpet. You hear fans in the distance cheering and the clicking of the cameras shooting the other stars attending the event.

“You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

“Just smile, stay close to me and I’ll make sure you feel comfortable.” She says with the softest grin.

The driver exits the car to come to open the back door for the two of you. Florence scoots out first and you hear the fans cheering grow exponentially. She sticks her hand back into the limo for you to grab hold of as she pulls you out as well. The fans somehow managed to get even louder at the sight of the two of you together. She holds your hand tight and slowly guides you towards the entrance of the carpet. Florence is an absolute natural, she was smiling perfectly, waving to the photographers and even speaking to a few of them as if they had known each other for years. You, on the other hand, felt a lot more awkward. You were a photographer yourself and you felt much more comfortable on the other side of the camera. You had an interviewer approach Florence wanting to ask her some questions so naturally, you went with her.

“So, Florence! The big night already! I know you’ve been really looking forward to this movie coming out, is there anything you’d like to say to the fans before watching it?” The interviewer asks.

“Ah well, you know it really is a piece of art. It’s something I am incredibly proud of, me, Harry, Olivia, we all worked so hard on it. I hope that everyone falls in love with it as much as I did!”

“That’s great, that’s really great Florence. Should we talk about the new love blossoming here?” She says gesturing towards the two of you. “The whole world seems to have been talking about you guys recently!”

“Aha, yeah, well, one thing I can tell you about our relationship is that I personally have never been happier,” Florence says.

You felt the blush creep across your face with the words that came out of her mouth.

“Y/n, this must be a surreal experience for you, what’s going through your mind as you’re walking across this red carpet?” The interviewer asks you.

Your eyes widen and you feel the anxiety make its way through your body again. Florence squeezes your hand to let you know everything’s alright and that she is right there with you. Surprisingly, that was enough to ease your mind from freaking out.

“Honestly, yeah, it’s been a crazy experience for me. This is certainly not somewhere I ever thought I’d end up but boy am I glad that I did. Flo makes me unbelievably happy and I couldn’t ask for anyone better.” You say with a smile.

Somehow that was absolutely perfectly executed.

Florence looks at you and the two of you lock eyes as the most gorgeous smile crosses her face.

“Well, thank you so much you two! Florence, congratulations again not only on this film, it looks amazing but also on the clear happiness you have found here with y/n! I hope to see you two around, enjoy your night!”

“Thank you!” Florence says as the reporter walks away.

“You did amazing.” She whispers to you.

The two of you continue to make your way down this red carpet as photographers are practically falling over each other to get a good picture of the two of you together. You felt a lot more comfortable now in front of the cameras after that interview. You were able to loosen up and act more natural although you were behind blinded by what felt like hundreds of cameras. The two of you finally made it to the fan portion of the red carpet where Florence does quick photo ops and signatures with some of those there to support her.

“Florence!” One fan screams. “Hi!! What’s your name?”

“Lizzie!”

“Ah, it is wonderful to meet you Lizzie and I must say you have a beautiful name,” Florence says as she signs the girl's poster and leans in for a photo.

“Florence, I hope this isn’t too much to ask for but I was wondering if y/n could be in the photo too? You two are my absolute favourite couple.”

“Well, I think that would be up to her…” She says turning and looking at you.

“Of course!” You say walking over to smile for the camera.

Florence continues to sign posters, books and other items until she gets to the end.

The two of you walk into the building when she turns to look at you. “You made it. I am so proud of you and I can’t even begin to express my gratitude for you being here with me tonight.” She says.

“It wasn’t too bad, I think I’m ready to be a runway model now.” You say with a chuckle.

“Oh absolutely. And for the record, if you actually were to do that, you’d kill it.”

The two of you get a good laugh out.

“Well love, just so you know, that was 100% the hardest part of the night. Now you get to watch a film and eat delicious food!”

You smile at Florence as you are once again being completely consumed by how beautiful she looks tonight.

“Well if it isn’t Hollywood’s new IT couple! Y/n, it is so nice to finally meet you, Florence here has not shut up about you for months.” a familiar voice says to you.

When you turn around you lock eyes with Harry Styles. Good fucking lord. Maybe you should have mentioned to Florence that if you met Harry you’d simply pass out. You maybe had a small or big…One Direction phase when they were very popular. I mean can she blame you? Live while we’re young was an absolute banger.

“Uh– hi! Nice to meet you Harry.” You say trying not to sound nervous. Florence looks at you funny, almost a little confused as to why you’re acting so weird.

“This is the beautiful Olivia,” He says gesturing to the woman next to him. “She is the beautiful mind behind the film you are going to watch tonight.”

“It’s lovely to meet you, Olivia. Florence has told me how much fun she had working on this movie with you guys and I am so excited to watch it.” You say.

“And we can’t wait for you to see it! Enjoy!” Olivia says.

“See you guys later, drinks at our usual pub after the premiere?” Harry says looking at Florence.

“For sure.” She responds.

As soon as they are out of earshot Florence whips around and looks at you. “What just happened?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve practically introduced you to the entire MCU cast and I have never seen you as star-struck as I just did with Harry.”

“I may have been a really…big…One Direction…fan.” You say.

Florence lets out a loud gasp followed by the most adorable laugh. She couldn’t stop chuckling at what just came out of your mouth.

“Oh my gosh, you are quite literally the cutest human being I’ve ever seen.”

“What???”

“Y/n…C’mon. That was adorable. You were like a little fangirl. Tell me…who was your favourite in the band?”

*sigh* “...Harry.”

Florence lets out another loud laugh. You lightly hit her on the arm telling her to stop in a teasing tone.

“Love, you are absolutely adorable and I am totally telling him you said that. Hey, maybe he’ll sing a song for you.” She says.

Your face is turning bright red as Florence teases you and your love for Harry Styles.

Once she was done messing around with you, the two of you finally headed into the theatre to watch the film.

“Wow..Florence. That was an amazing movie. Who knew you got so hot and spicy with Harry too.”

“Jealous y/n?”

“Oh my gosh, are we still on that?” You reply. “And for your information…yes I am jealous but not of you, of him. I think I have a few ideas of some stuff we should do when we get home…”

“Oh is that so?” She says with curiosity in her voice.

The two of you are just caught in this perfect moment together, absolutely in the deepest of love with one another. This night was perfect. What was once something you were stressed about, turned into something beautiful and a memory you will forever cherish.

*1 week later*

“Babes! I have something for you, come here.” Florence yells to you from the kitchen.

“You have something for me?” You reply.

Florence is standing there with a box as you walk into the room. As you pull the ribbon and lift the lid off the box, you reveal a picture framed underneath. She got a copy of one of the most perfect pictures of the two of you printed and framed from your first premiere together. The two of you have never looked so in love as you just have the most perfect smiles looking at one another.

“Wow…Florence…I love it. Thank you so much, babe, god I love you so much.” You say as you pull her in for a tight hug.

“I love you too y/n and thank you again for coming with me that night. It wouldn’t have been the same without you.”

A warm smile comes across your face as it's buried in her neck as she holds you tightly. You were just looking forward to your next premiere even more now.

– The End –

[engie-ivy]

Short Wolfstar Fluff as a sequel to the previous short Wolfstar Fluff!

Sequel to Make It a Good One

Sirius is distracted all during practice. Turns out, telling your best friend you're in love with him before taking off to Quidditch practice, is not that good for your focus.

Read Part One here

And They Made It a Good One!

“Your game was lousy tonight!” James places his hands in his side and gives Sirius his best ‘Not To Be Messed With Quidditch Captain’-look. “I don’t know where your head was at, but you better get it back in the game before the match on Saturday, or Godric help us!”

Sirius is still sitting on the bench in the locker room, toying with the sleeves of his uniform and staring at the floor.

“Hey, Padfoot, what’s bothering you? What’s up?” James’ transition from scolding Quidditch Captain to worried best friend is so smooth, it’s remarkable. In one fluid motion he slides next to Sirius on the bench and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “You know you can tell me anything.”

“I...” Sirius hesitates. “I think I may have just confessed to Moony that I’m madly in love with him?”

James is silent for a minute, which Sirius understands. James didn’t even know he had an interest in dating. Or that he was into blokes. Or that he was in love with someone. And oh, that that someone is their best friend Remus Lupin. Yeah, a lot to take in.

“You’re in love with Moony,” James says slowly. Sirius nods. “And you’ve just confessed to him.” Sirius nods again.

“That’s huge!” James jumps up from the bench. “So, how did he react? What did he say? Merlin, no wonder you weren’t thinking about practice!”

“I don’t know,” Sirius admits.

“How do you mean, you don’t know?”

“I kind of did this thing, where I sort of told him, and immediately took off before he could properly respond?”

“... So, then I whispered ‘Veritaserum’, and dashed out of the room,” Sirius finishes the story.

“Wow,” James whispers in awe. “That’s brilliant, mate! Do you think I can use it on Evans?”

“Mate, Evans is some kind of Potions prodigy! In what universe will she need you to help her study?”

James looks up to the heavens, feigning despair. “Oh, why does the woman of my heart has to have so many talents?”

“Oi!” Sirius shoves him. “The man of my heart has a great many talents as well! Just... not Potions.”

“Definitely not Potions,” James shudders, probably remembering the Bulgeye Potion incident. Or the Swelling Solution incident. Or the Noxious Potion incident.

“So, what do you want to do now?” James asks, as they approach the castle. “Do you want me to intercept Pete and give you and Moony some time alone?”

“No!” Sirius says. “No, I want Remus to have the option to pretend it never happened in case he doesn’t want anything other than the friendship we have, not force him into addressing it, so please, just act like everything’s normal.”

“Right,” James says. “But what if Remus thinks you’re acting normal because you were just joking, and you think Remus is acting normal because he wants to pretend it never happened, and you both end up pining for each other forever! And I’ll be the best friend stuck in the middle having to watch it all...”

Sirius rolls his eyes. “I’m sure we won’t let it get that far. But just act normal, okay?”

“Normal,” James nods. “Got it.”

“Hello Remus, fancy seeing you here.”

Remus looks up at James from where he’s sitting on his own bed reading a book.

“Well, maybe not fancy seeing you here, as this is your dorm,” James admits. “Although, you could’ve been in the library, though I guess it’s pretty late, but surely, you could’ve been in the common room! You’re in the common room quite often, aren’t you, Remus? So yeah, I do fancy seeing you here! I mean, I don’t fancy you, I just fancy seeing you. Not like that! Definitely not like that! Of course not like that, we’re friends. Not that friends can’t fancy each other like that! There’s nothing wrong with friends fancying each other like that! It’s perfectly fine for friends to fancy each other like that. It’s not a problem for me. Who said it was a problem for me? I’m just not one of those friends. Well, I’m one of the friends, but not one of the fancying friends. But the fancying friends are great, wonderful, brilliant, if there were fancying friends, of course. I’m not saying there are. I’m not saying there aren’t, but it’s not up to me to say. Merlin Moony, stop bugging me!”

James storms off into the bathroom, Sirius and Remus staring after him, Sirius shaking his head.

Remus raises an eyebrow. “Has he taken a Bludger to the head?”

Sirius sighs. “That would imply he hasn’t always been an idiot.”

“True,” Remus chuckles.

Sirius is relieved they’re talking like they always have, no awkwardness or distance between them. Relieved, yes, but also a tiny bit disappointed.

Sirius is still awake when the curtains around his bed open and close, and Remus lies down next to him, facing him.

“So,” Remus says, and he’s so close Sirius can feel his breath on his face. “I’ve been thinking, what if I really want to hear you say those things? You told me I need to give you Veritaserum, but we both know how I’m pants at Potions, so there’s probably like a fifty percent chance I’ll poison you-”

Sirius arches an eyebrow.

“-eighty percent chance I’ll poison you,” Remus continues. “So, for both our sakes, maybe it’s better if you save me the trouble and just say it now?”

Sirius can’t look away from Remus’ big, amber eyes staring at him intently, and the words just come out. “I’m very much attracted to you, I think you’re the most brilliant person I’ve ever met, and I’m actually quite mad about you,” he says, breathlessly.

Remus smiles and his eyes sparkle, lighting up the room. No, lighting up the whole bloody world. “Good,” he whispers, as he places a hand behind Sirius’ head and pulls him in for a kiss.