#but if i never draw those things than i'll never get better at them you see where the catch is?

[hey-hey-j]

feels like every month I'm finding new and more complicated ways to do his hair

(★ my Kofi)

[sincerelyneo]

sunflower vol 6 | l.hc

“i couldn’t want you anymore, kiss in the kitchen like it’s a dance floor”

💿now playing: sunflower vol 6 by harry styles

❯ summary: Let’s make dinner together, he said. I’ll behave, he said. Honestly, you should have known that was a lie because when it comes to you, Haechan is never on his best behaviour. That’s why he’s sneaking sly touches every time you complete a step in your recipe.

❯ pairings: haechan x fem!reader

❯ genre: established relationship, fluff, suggestive content

❯ words: 1.4k

❯ tags: tooth rotting fluff, domesticated fluff, swearing, kissing, pet names, literally just hyuck being so boyfriend and them dancing in the kitchen together.

an: i’m a firm believer that harry styles wrote this song about haechan

Hyuck bursts through the front door with a sense of urgency, unable to contain his excitement. It's been months since he last saw you, his girlfriend whom he's more than just a little obsessed with, and the door feels like just another barrier in his way. He thought his job, which requires him to tour for half the year, was obstacle enough.

"Baby, I'm home!" he calls out eagerly, scanning the apartment for any sign of you. Disappointment flickers across his face when he doesn't immediately spot you waiting for him with open arms.

The honeyed tone of his voice instead echoes from the living room to your bedroom, drawing you to him like a magnet. Without wasting a moment, you rush down the stairs and wrap your arms around his neck.

You melt into each other effortlessly, as you always do. Your bodies seem custom-made for one another, fitting together perfectly. You've missed his touch, his warmth, in a way that FaceTime calls could never fulfil. Nothing compares to the physical presence of your Hyuck.

You plant a gentle kiss on the soft skin of his cheek before pulling back to meet his gaze. "You weren't supposed to be home for another four hours. What's going on?"

"I got an earlier flight because I missed you so much," he replies with a grin. 

You shake your head, but a smile still tugs at your lips. You've never encountered a man more smitten and in love than him. It's endearing, really. It's the kind of love his friends would tease him about if he didn't take so much pride in it.

You run a hand through your hair, trying to process the fact that he's here in your living room. You're happy, of course, but you had hoped to be all dolled up for his arrival, not standing in old pyjamas after months apart

"Well... are you hungry? We could order takeout if you want. You can tell me all about that tour that's kept you away from me for what feels like forever," you suggest with a smile, and his eyes soften at the invitation

"Babyyy," he whines, catching you off guard a little. His hands slide to your back, pulling you in by your waist as he plants a kiss on top of your head. "Can't we make dinner together?"

You raise an eyebrow, pulling away to look up at him, his hands still wrapped around you. "By 'we,' you mean me?"

"Of course not. You know I make an excellent sous chef. Restaurants should be grateful I chose music instead of culinary arts.” 

You shake your head, with a grin. "We never get anything done when we cook together. Remember last time?"

He smirks, recalling the memory. "It's not my fault you asked me to get something out of the fridge, and when I turned around, you were bent over the counter showing your ass to me. I couldn't help myself."

You give him a deadpan look but he only smirks more.

"And if we're being honest, I remember you loving it." His arms cross over his chest, the satisfaction in him beaming from knowing that you know he's right. You did enjoy those steamy cooking sessions, but not right now; you're hungry.

"Please, baby, I missed your cooking. Nothing any restaurant can make compares to your food," he pleads. "I'll be on my best behaviour."

And although you know better, and you know that there’s no such thing as "best behaviour" with Lee Donghyuck, you still can't resist. And so, you give in. 

Surprisingly, everything goes well. Hyuck isn’t too much of a distraction; instead, he follows your instructions without protest. He grabs ingredients, chops vegetables, and even compliments the head chef— and nothing catches fire.

Progress is being made.

That is until your boyfriend finishes the little tasks you assign him and wraps his arms around your waist while you chop ingredients.

“Hyuck… you promised—”

His plush lips melt against your neck so delicately that you nearly chop off your finger—though Hyuck won’t let that happen, gripping your hands to steady them. He chuckles softly, his lips quirking against your skin.

“I know what I said, Y/N,” he teases. “I’m just trying to help.”

“You’re not trying to help; you’re trying to distract.”

He laughs, “You know… I bought a new record while I was on tour. It has that one song you love.”

You pause, setting the knife down and pressing your hands against the counter as you turn to face him.

“Oh yeah?”

He nods, “I think we should play it while you cook.”

“I thought we were supposed to be cooking together?” 

Hyuck simply chuckles as he heads over to the record player in your kitchen and sets the record spinning. Soft guitar notes fill the space, and despite your need to focus, you can’t help but smile.

You watch as he dances across the cool kitchen tiles, a smirk on his lips, until he stands behind you. His hand finds your elbow, gently pulling you backwards.

The laugh that spills from you is warm and Hyuck matches it as his hands drift down your arms to your hands, fingers threading together before he pulls you back into his broad, solid chest. 

Strong arms cross your own chest, and the two of you start to sway against each other. The music is quiet and grainy and mixed with the sound of your feet creaking on the floor. 

The two of you float back and forth—a stream of sunlight streams in through the high window. You close your eyes and let the light shift across your eyelids. Hyuck’s lips find your ear, singing softly. The sound was gentle and sweet and you could hear the smile in his voice.

“I’ll never forget the moment I realised I love you.”

You sink further against him, your voice humming as you ask, “Yeah? When was that?”

“The minute I saw you,” he breathes. “You were dancing so carelessly, and I knew then—you were my person. You’ll always be my person.”

You’re grinning like an idiot despite rolling your eyes as you let go of Hyuck’s hands and turn around in his arms. You slide your palms up his chest to wind around the back of his neck, pressing your foreheads together. 

“You’re so cheesy.”

“And you love it,” he responds easily, smiling with his eyes closed as he continues to sway with you in the tiny kitchen of your tiny apartment. You nod, leaning forward to knock your noses together gently with an exaggerated sigh.

“I do. And I love you. I wouldn’t want to spend a minute loving anybody else.”

Hyuck hums, pulling you in closer and starts walking you backwards slowly until your hips rest against the counter. He dips down, curling his hands around the backs of your thighs and effortlessly hoists you up to sit on the edge. You open your eyes and run your fingers through his hair, twisting a perfect little strand around your finger just the way he likes it.

He looks back at you, eyes filled with patience and love. Then he leans in, drawing you into a soft, lazy kiss—because he’s finally home, because he can, because he loves doing it, because it’s all he ever wants to do from now until forever.  You melt against his chest, pressing up into the contact. When you break apart, Hyuck rests his lips against your temple, swaying gently with you in his arms.

“I’m so in love with you,” He says softly.

You rest your cheek against his shoulder and brush your nose back and forth against his neck as you close your eyes and smile.

“I love you too, Hyuck.”

You linger in the warmth of his touch until the sharp beeping of the oven interrupts the moment. You pull away slightly, frowning at the oven’s display.

“Ugh, I forgot I put that in there!” you exclaim, glancing over your shoulder to see smoke beginning to curl from the edges.

Hyuck chuckles, but there is no concern creeping into his voice. “Can’t believe my first meal home is going to be charcoal.” 

You rush to the oven, Hyuck close behind. As you open the door, a plume of smoke escapes, and you cough. 

“This is totally your fault! What happened to you not being distracting?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

He shrugs, leaning down to plant another soft kiss on your lips. “What can I say? I’m obsessed with you.”

[sanguineterrain]

This is not on the prompt list(s), but I’ve been inspired by the phrase “This is for your own good.” and could we have a debut Red Hood Jason saying this to Vigilante!Reader, who was also his pre-death lover, as he’s keeping her prisoner in one of his bases so that she won’t be caught in the crossfire?

OOH. interesting prompt. I haven't really written a darker jason 😏 thanks anon! hope you like.

jason todd x gn!reader. DARK THEMES. drugging, toxic relationship, codependency, chain restraints, knife threats (not from jason). what would happen if jason's best traits (protecting the people he loves, prioritizing safety) manifested in the worst way?

****

"This is for your own good, baby."

You pull at your chains, making them clink against the floor. You snarl as he steps back.

"This is crazy, Jason! Let me go!"

Jason looks at you in sympathy. It pains him to see you like this; Jason never wants to do anything that'll frighten or upset you. Your comfort and happiness always precede his. He'd put a gun into his mouth without hesitation if it would save you.

But he means it: this really is for your own good.

"I thought you were better than this," you say savagely. "I thought you of all people would understand how wrong this is."

"I know it's wrong," Jason says quietly. "I know I'm a bastard and fucked in the head. I know I don't deserve ya. But this is the only way. You won't stop going out there. You're too sweet for this city. It'll tear you apart, and I won't let that happen."

"That isn't your decision to make, Jason!" you say, squirming in your restraints.

You take a deep breath. The Bats only respond to logic when they're this deep in paranoia. You have to appeal to that.

"Jason, listen to me. I know you're scared of me getting hurt, but I know what I'm doing. I've done this for a long time, just like you—"

"And that's exactly where the danger lies. Things go wrong all the time, no matter how long you've been out there. I'm expendable. You're not."

Jason tugs once, twice, three times on your ankles and wrists. Satisfied, he moves on to the chain around your waist that's connected to the wall. It gives you a walking range of about five feet before you're yanked back. Jason had fussed about bedsores, and what keeping you in a bed would do to your range of motion. This was his compromise.

I'm not a monster, he'd insisted. I don't want to hurt you.

"Jason, please," you say. He starts to walk away and you chase him. The wall chain pulls and you land on your knees. Jason stops, looking down at you. You start to cry.

"Jason, please, please! Please don't leave me like this," you say, reaching with bound hands to grab his pant leg. "Please. This isn't right. I'm not a doll for your keeping!"

"I don't think of you as a doll," Jason says, kneeling in front of you. He holds your cheek and wipes a tear with a gloved thumb. "Oh, sweetheart, don't cry. Please don't cry. Hate to see it. I won't keep you like this forever. 'S just until I finish up in Gotham. Then we can go away from all this. Live normal lives."

"This is the life I want to live!" you shout, pawing at his clothes. "Let me go, Jason, let me go!"

"Baby. Hey, hey. You're gonna work yourself into a frenzy. Y'want something to calm you down? Make y'feel nice and sleepy."

Your blood turns to ice. No. No drugs. If Jason drugs you now, there's no telling when or if he'll stop. This is a man who was trained by Batman. You're sure he knows about every drug there's to know about.

You shake your head, your crying becoming quiet blubbering. "No. N-no drugs. Please."

He pets your forehead. "'Kay. No drugs, baby. 'S okay, see? I'll be back in a few hours and then we can eat and I'll draw you a bubble bath. Those are your favorite, remember?"

Jason kisses your salty cheek and stands, putting on his helmet. Like this, looming over you, in full Hood gear, Jason is terrifying. The reminder strikes you again, how capable and deadly your lover is.

Jason leans in and pets your cheek. "So pretty. Love you so much. Won't let anything happen to you, baby."

You watch, defeated, as Jason leaves, locking the door behind him. You listen for the sound of the lock clicking.

Then you get to work on finding an escape.

****

You keep your breathing silent as you wait. Your limbs ache from how long you've been crouched in hiding, but it doesn't matter. Nothing matters except escaping.

The door opens and shuts. Jason quietly removes his boots and helmet, surveying the apartment like always. He sets a plastic bag on the coffee table. The smell of Thai food fills the apartment.

"Baby? Hey, I'm home. Brought your favorite takeout."

You wait until he walks by your spot behind the TV. Then you strike.

You take Jason down to the floor with a move that only works due to your element of surprise. Then you hold a dagger to his neck, the cold metal pressed flat.

Jason regards you calmly, hands at his sides. You pant furiously, pressing the blade warningly.

"Let me go," you order. "I won't be chained up like that."

"I see," he says, and the way he says it is scarily reminiscent of Batman. You keep that to yourself.

"I mean it, Jason. You can't do that. I'll—I'll call someone on you. Bruce, Clark, Dick. Somebody."

"Alright." Jason holds up his hands slowly. You watch the movement, nerves raw. "Alright. 'S okay. Just breathe. You're upset, I get that."

"I don't—I don't wanna hurt you," you say, squeezing the dagger harder. Your hand cramps in protest. "But if you make me..."

Jason nods. "Yeah, baby. I know. 'S okay. We can fix it. 'M not mad."

"Don't talk to me like that," you snap. "I'm not stupid, Jay. Not stupid."

"I know, sweetheart. I know you're not stupid. I don't think you are. Y'wanna cut me? Feel like hurtin'?" He leans into the blade, breathing steady as a river. "Go on, honey. I heal quick. You need to do it, take it out on me."

The thought of hurting Jason makes you sick. For all of his misguided protection, he hasn't hurt you. Hasn't laid a hand on you or shouted at you. Every form of restraint is as gentle as possible.

"No," you say, voice wobbly. "I-I don't wanna hurt you. Please don't make me."

Jason strokes your arm with his thumb. "No, I won't. You'll never have to hurt anybody. And I'll never let you get hurt either. 'S okay. You're safe with me. 'S me, just Jay."

Jason's hand wraps around the wrist with the knife. You stiffen, and the blade slips. A thin line of blood beads on his neck. He loosens his grip.

"Okay," he says. "Alright. You're safe."

"I don't wanna be chained," you say, tears in your eyes. "I can't be chained. I'll go fucking crazy, Jason."

"I know. I'm sorry. We don't have to do chains."

Your heart hammers in your chest. But Jason is nothing but calm. Blood sluggishly drips down his neck. Your eyes widen.

"I'm sorry," you say, reaching for his neck. "I'm sorry, Jaybird, I didn't mean—"

"I know." He catches your hand. "Shh, shh. That's okay. 'S just a scratch. It was an accident, baby, that's all."

Tears fall down your cheeks. "I don't wanna hurt you."

"I know." Jason slips the knife out of your hand. He slides it away. You collapse into his embrace.

"I can do it," you say, sobbing. "I can go out there, Jay. Please just believe me. Please trust me. You trusted me before."

Jason cradles the back of your head. He slots you between his legs and rocks back and forth. You put your arms around him. His heart is an even thump against your ear.

Finally, you've gotten through to him. Jason isn't completely gone after all.

"Don't worry," he says. "Don't worry, 's okay. It'll all be fine. I know my mistake. I'll be better. It'll be better for us."

Something pricks your neck.

Hope sinks like a rock in your stomach. You squirm, but Jason holds fast, legs trapping yours. You whale on his shoulders with your fists. He holds your biceps, expression sorrowful.

"Baby—"

"No, you promised. You promised!" you scream. "You promised me!"

"It's just to soothe your nerves, honey. Please don't—"

You lunge for the knife, ready to do some serious damage. Jason tackles you before you can. He traps you on the floor, holding you down in a full lock. He holds your arms to your sides, and your legs are pinned to the floor. It's perhaps the gentlest restraint you've ever experienced. You scream and thrash, but it's no use.

"You monster! You're no better than any of them!"

"Sorry, 'm sorry," Jason says. No matter how much you fight, his grip won't budge. You've never been a match for Jason's strength or ability.

"I hate you! You don't love me!"

"I do, I do love you." Jason rests his forehead against your spine. "Christ, your life means more than mine. I won't lose you. You're the only one who matters."

His words are muffled. Your world is going fuzzy. The drug is kicking in.

"You promised," you say weakly, wiggling in one last attempt.

Jason tucks his face into your neck as you fall unconscious.

"I'll keep you safe," he says, lips on your neck. "No matter what."

[erospandemos]

Some things never change

NewJeans Danielle x Reader

Where Danielle tries everything in her power to make you understand her feelings

Beta-reader: @leafostuff

You had known Danielle Marsh all your life, from when she was just a little kid to now that she's a fully grown adult, although her height kind of stopped halfway. You met her in the first days of elementary school. She must have looked weak to the other kids with her two missing teeth, thin legs, and pale complex, so a group of rascals started messing with her.

They would call her all sorts of names with their limited word knowledge, mocking her with gestures and weird sounds. They'd also push her around or make her trip and fall. Even though their mind was still limited, they already had a knack for bullying.

You happened to be around her when you witnessed one of those scenes. All it took was a slap and a threat and the kids fled away. It was just a normal thing for you, as fights were very common at that age but for Danielle, you were her saviour.

"Are you okay?" you asked her worryingly.

Amidst her sniffling, Danielle managed to reply, "Those bullies were teasing me. But you made them go away, so thank you."

You felt a bit bad about her. Her eyes were so red from crying and she kept rubbing her eyelids to dry those endless tears. "Don't worry Danielle. They will never tease you again. I'll always be here for you," you reassured her, not knowing what kind of promise you were making.

What followed were days, weeks, and months of annoyance. Danielle followed you everywhere you went, pestering you from the morning to the afternoon—always talking, always joking, always asking.

"Thank you for helping me!" she told you. "Jinyoung hasn't been mean to me anymore! I love you!"

You were annoyed. You let her talk and kept walking, "He was just being an ass. It's nothing special."

She began to be your shadow, a silent companion seeking solace. A girl looking for a friend, or at least that is what you and she thought. There was already something present in her heart but you just didn't know it yet. But kids learned quickly.

It was a random day in April when she made her first move.

"My parents taught me that I should hug the ones I love. Can I hug you?" Danielle asked you, her eyes earnest and pleading.

You were caught off guard but still nodded hesitantly. You opened your arms and she stopped closer, embracing you tightly. She found comfort in your warmth and kept you there close to her. You didn't know why she did that but you liked it too.

Then a couple of months later, you were invited to her house. You and her parents got to know each other and figured it would be a good occasion for you two to bond together. At her house, there was a very nice illustrated book for children. The kind to have small but enormous sentences. Her eyes were sparkling with excitement when she brought it out from her desk to show it to you.

"It's a story about a prince who married the princess he saved. Don't you think that it's so... cool?" She said, her eyes wondering between dreams and fantasies.

"Yeah, I guess," you replied. You didn't fully grasp the implication of the tale. You just liked the drawings.

"You saved me from the bullies, just like the prince. Maybe... maybe we could get married someday?" Danielle confessed, blushing.

You chuckled nervously, still oblivious and clueless.

Things also got more complicated when she caught you talking with a girl from your class.

"Who's she?" Danielle asked, laced with jealousy.

"Oh, this is my friend from the class, Seo-yeon," you introduced her, unaware of her stern demeanor.

"Well, she better not try to steal you away from me!" she declared, pouting and crossing her arms.

You laughed nervously again, not understanding what she was trying to say, and apologized the poor Seo-yeon who was receiving the possessive gave from Danielle.

That was more than ten years ago. But now that you were both grown up, things didn't change at all.

You're reading the book you've been saving up for weeks, finally free from the exam season of college. It's been a relaxing day, as it's been the first full break you could take and you decided to just replenish your energy by doing nothing all day. The day was good outside but you didn't feel like going out at all.

But you did not know that the outside would visit you instead.

A too-familiar figure barged into your room, with a familiar voice and force. "Hey! Your mom said I could come in. Hope you don't mind," Danielle exclaims.

You look up, surprised. You have to bid goodbye to your book because there was no way she would've left the house now.

"Uh, hey. No, not at all," you say, recollecting yourself. Looking around, you could see the mess the room was left in but after all the times your friend had seen, it wasn't much of a problem. You just left it as it was.

Danielle approaches, her grin widening as she eyes the book in your hands. She lowers her head and reads your title, not because she is interested, but because it could be a potential reason to tease you.

"What fascinating world are you escaping to today?" Danielle asks you.

Before you can respond, Danielle snatches the book away, dramatically flipping through the pages, not a word passing through her eyes.

"It's a great book, you know," you say before she can judge you. But that wasn't her intention. Danielle tosses the book aside and, with a sly grin, moves closer to you.

"Boys, your age don't really stay in their house all day, shouldn't you go outside?"

You raise your eyebrow. "What are you trying to say?

She clears her throat, "Well, you know, all boys go around picking girls, shouldn't you be interested in girls too? Especially me..."

"Books are interesting enough," you say, annoyed.

Danielle sighs heavily and slaps your shoulder. "You really don't get it do you...? Whatever," she says, "But do you know what's even more interesting than books?"

Without waiting for an answer, Danielle wraps her arm around you, pulling him into an unexpected side hug. You, visibly annoyed and embarrassed, squirm from the surprise and try to claw out of her grasp. But it just gets tighter. "Danielle, seriously, what are you doing?" you stutter.

Danielle chuckles, enjoying your annoyed remarks, and lets her other arm get you too.

"Just playing with you."

You try to pull away, but Danielle persists.

"Can we not do this right now?" you say. Danielle rolls her eyes and sighs before releasing you.

"Oh, come on. Just having a bit of fun," she says, pouting.

She playfully pokes your cheek and laughs.

"This is ridiculous."

Danielle seizes the opportunity and leans closer, circling your thighs. "You know, a little embarrassment never hurt anyone," she says and eyes you up and down, locking her eyes with yours. "Besides, you're kinda cute when you're flustered."

You groan, covering your face with your hands. "Why are you doing this???"

She laughs, finally satisfied, and lets herself fall on the couch. "You know," she speaks truthfully, "there's something about you that's just too irresistible."

"Yeah, you aren't the only one."

Suddenly, you feel Danielle's intense gaze on you. "Who else is teasing you? Girls?"

"Sometimes?"

"Oh, that's not good. They have to know you're taken."

You raise an eyebrow. You don't sense anything good coming. "What are you talking about now?"

"I was thinking, maybe I should leave my scent on you. You know, like marking my territory. That way, other girls will know you're taken."

You blink repeatedly, utterly bewildered.

"Leave your scent? Danielle, we're not animals."

Danielle chuckles.

"Just imagine it – you walk into a room, and everyone's like, –Oh, they smell like Danielle. They're off the market!–"

"You've been watching too many nature documentaries."

"Shut up and come here."

Danielle snuggles closer, her energy warming the room and your body. You feel her arms quickly wrapping around your body and her legs tangling into yours and before you knew it, she was already spooning you. After all these years of doing so, she has gotten quite good at it. "You know, you really should loosen up. It's just a cuddle between old friends."

You shift uncomfortably, a bit against her although her lively insistence was stronger than your will. "Danielle, seriously, we're not kids anymore. We can't just... cuddle like this."

She tilts her head, studying you with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Come on! Don't be such a grown-up. We used to do this all the time when we were kids. It's nostalgic!"

You sigh, giving in a bit. "Yeah, but things are different now."

Danielle was a slim girl, petite. She felt small although you were the one under her grasp, and her limbs were delicate and fragile. She felt small but soft as well. She was an adult now, and her touch made your heart beat faster, in a way it never did.

Danielle grins, unphased. "Different doesn't have to mean worse."

"But seriously," Danielle says with curiosity, "you used to be the one initiating these cuddle sessions. What happened to that fearless little kid?"

You blush, a rare occurrence for the reserved you. "Well, things change. People change."

Danielle's eyes soften, and she nudges you gently. You can smell her perfume and it calms you. "Change isn't always bad, you know."

You can't help but smile at her infectious enthusiasm. Danielle, her head still nestled against your shoulder, can't resist the opportunity to tease you. "You know, I always thought you were the bravest little knight in our little adventures when we were young."

You raise an eyebrow, a hint of a smile playing on your lips. "A knight, huh? I'm not sure I see the resemblance."

Danielle chuckles, tracing imaginary patterns on your arm. A soft red starts to appear on your cheek. "Oh, please! You were my protector, always ready to face imaginary dragons and monsters. What happened to that fearless warrior?"

"Well, maybe I outgrew the knight phase."

Danielle leans back, looking at you with a sly grin. "Outgrew, or maybe you're just afraid to admit that deep down, you still have a bit of that brave knight in you."

You roll your eyes, but a small smile lingers on your face.

"Did you remember when I told you I'd be your princess? I still mean it you know?" she says, as if it was nothing.

You realize the meaning of her words and can't fathom any response, and Danielle can't help but enjoy the gentle blush that colors your cheeks. She teases you further, "You're blushing, Mr. Grown-up. Who would've thought the mighty knight would be so easily flustered?"

You mumble something incoherent, avoiding her gaze.

That was typical of you and your friend: constant teasing and joking. But you knew you wanted something more from her and you were just running around, trying to avoid it. One day, however, it finally came to you, knocking at your door, and you had to face it head-on.

You hear a loud frantic knocking on your door. The sudden noise surprises you and you get slowly, weary of who might be on the other end. The knocking doesn't stop and you look into the peephole. To your surprise, it wasn't a killer coming for you but it was your friend, Danielle, and from the looks of it, with her disheveled hair and tired eyes, she wasn't looking so good. You open the door and she bursts inside your apartment, drenched from head to toe, dripping water everywhere.

"Whoa, Danielle! What happened to you?" you exclaim.

She shakes herself like a wet dog, sending droplets flying, and brushes her wet strands away from her forehead to look at you in the eyes. "Caught in a sudden downpour. I practically swam here!"

You chuckle and walk to the bathroom. "Don't move!" you tell her as you go grab some towels. You don't want her wetting the whole house as well. "Well, you certainly look like you went for a swim."

Danielle takes the towel, but instead of immediately drying off, she shoots you a mischievous grin. "You look quite excited about seeing me, don't you?"

You raise an eyebrow and look at her, confused. "What do you mean?"

Danielle pretends to inspect her soaked clothes with exaggerated concern, scanning her shirt, and her skirt. She opens her arms and invites you to look at her clothes. "Oh, no. I think these clothes might be see-through now. But I'm sure you already noticed. I can feel you glued on me."

You immediately understand what she's trying to say. You roll your eyes and grow. "Danielle, come on. Don't be ridiculous."

She smirks, wringing out her hair over the towel. "Ridiculous? Or am I just giving you a little peek? You know it's fine. I didn't tell you not to look."

You blush, trying to play it cool. "You're impossible. I'm lucky it's just the two of us. Otherwise, I might get in trouble." You hate to agree with Danielle, but it was impossible for you not to notice her figure, perfectly feminine, perfectly grown, and perfectly beautiful. You gulp loudly and stare at the wall.

Danielle giggles, sauntering over to me with a playful twirl of her wet hair. "Well, I can't let you miss out on the view, can I?" She laughs again as you shoot a quick sideeye at her. "Oh, did I catch you looking again?"

"Come on! No, I didn't."

Danielle comes closer, she's having fun, too much fun. She sways her hips, brushing your chest, leaving wet handprints on your shirt and looks at you with such a teasing smile that you couldn't do anything but blush and back intot he wall. "Oh, don't look away, baby."

"Danielle, cut it out," you stammer, my cheeks turning a deeper shade of red.

She leans in, her voice dropping to a sultrier tone. "What's the matter? Don't tell me you're not enjoying this."

You try to look away, but Danielle continues to playfully tease you. Then she laughs, finally satisfied.

"Okay, okay, I'm just messing with you!" she confesses, wiping away a tear of laughter. "I couldn't resist seeing you squirm."

You sigh in relief, but your embarrassment lingers. "You're unbelievable, Danielle."

She giggles while running away.

You go to your room to pick up some clothes for her, unfortunately you got nothing else to give her but your own clothes. You try the smallest size possible, so at least she wouldn't have to swim in them. You smell them first, to make sure, she won't be annoyed by an unwanted smell, then think if she'd feel cold or not—the house was quite warm on the inside. You knew she always liked to wear shorts, so you get a pair and a shirt and sweater to match.

You hand her the clothes, "Here, these should be more comfortable than wet clothes."

Danielle, takes them and smiles brightly. "Oh, I didn't know you were such a considerate boyfriend," she says. You start blushing but this time she's blushing too between her creased cheeks. You chuckle nervously, dismissing the comment.

"It's nothing," you say and then point the bathroom. "You've already been here before. Go change there or take a shower if you want."

"I'll just change, thank you. Don't peek at me though, okay?"

"What are you saying? Of course I won't," you reply.

She grins and runs into the bathroom to put on your outfit. It doesn't take her a while before she emerges wearing your oversized hoodie and shorts, her hair slightly toused. You have to admit, she looked adorable. The way the hoodie was way too big for her, and how the shorts let you peek at her legs, it was amazing.

It almost looked like she was your girlfriend, and she knew it too.

"Look at me, wearing your clothes," she says, raising her arms. "It's like we're in some romantic drama."

"It's just because your clothes are wet. Don't read too much into it."

Danielle continues, batting her eyelashes dramatically. She looks at you with wide eyes. "You've never offered me your clothes before. Are you sure you're not secretly seeing me as your girlfriend?"

"Don't be ridiculous. It's just clothes," you say, but her words can't leave your mind. You almost agreed.

"But these clothes smell like you," she says, taking a sniff at it. You blush brightly. "Am I stealing your scent now?"

The situation looks absurd and you're getting more and more flustered but still, you had to keep your cool. "Don't overthink it."

She bursts into laughing and jumps into the couch. "You're so cute when you deny things. Maybe I should keep wearing your clothes more often."

Trying to hide his embarrassment, you manage a weak smile. "Sure, Dani, make yourself at home."

You and Danielle keep joking around until something starts to bother your friend. She looks at the sky, more precisely at the rain, as it runs down the window, and her smile starts to fade.

Danielle turns to you and her face drops into a malinconic gaze, her eyes are half there, they're thinking about something else, but you feel the weight on you. "You know, I'm starting to feel like a fool," she says with a sigh.

You blink, taken aback by the sudden intensity in her tone. "What do you mean?"

Danielle paces the room, her agitation pouring out with every step. "You've known for ages how I feel about you. I've dropped hints, practically spelled it out, and yet you never do anything."

Bewildered, you look at her. You couldn't lie to her, you wish you could say you never realized it, but you did. You did know she was flirting with you and you did hear what she told you, clearly and explicitly. But you didn't want to accept it, you didn't want to believe it. "I... I don't realize you feel that way. I think we're just really good friends," you say and truly, you didn't think a girl like her would have any serious intentions behind her smile.

She halts, turning to face you, frustration etched on her features. "Really good friends? You and I spend hours together, we share our deepest thoughts, and I've been giving you every possible sign that I like you. How do you miss it?"

You stammer, attempting to find the right words. "I don't think... I mean, I think you're just being friendly. I never imagined you feel something more. I thought you were just messing with me."

Danielle sighs."That's the problem. You never imagine. You never consider the possibility that my feelings might extend beyond friendship. I've been dropping hints, practically shouting them, and you remain oblivious. Did it ever go through your mind?"

You run a hand through your hair, frustration mirrored in your eyes. "I never mean to hurt you, Danielle. I just... I didn't see it."

Her eyes narrow, the pent-up frustration reaching its peak. "That's precisely it. You don't see it. You never see me. It's like I've been invisible, and no matter how much I hint, you never make a move."

Danielle's words knock the air out of your lungs. You've never seen Danielle this riled up and it hurt you to know you were the cause. You take a moment to trace back your words. Have you ever imagined a life with her? Have you ever wanted to have her to yourself? Have you ever desired her?

The answer was yes. You think deeply if it was fair for you to say that only after she basically begged you to acknowledge her, but it was true, you did like her and you didn't know you were allowed to.

Danielle takes another deep breath, attempting to compose herself, but the frustration continues to spill out. "I've liked you for so long. I think you might feel the same way, but you never make a move. I've been stuck in this limbo, unsure if you even see me as more than a friend. It's driving me insane."

Your eyes soften, a mix of regret and realization settling in. "I didn't mean to make you feel invisible, Danielle. I've just been clueless, and I'm sorry if I hurt you."

She shakes her head, her frustration giving way to a sense of vulnerability. "It's not just about now. It's about all those moments before, the missed opportunities. I can't keep waiting for something that might never happen."

As Danielle's words linger in the air, a heavy silence envelops the room, punctuated only by the sound of rain tapping against the window.

"I never wanted to hurt you, Danielle," you begin. "I've been so focused on convincing myself that you couldn't possibly feel that way about me, that I never stopped to consider how you might be feeling. I'm sorry for not seeing what was right in front of me."

Danielle's gaze softens, a mix of frustration and hurt still lingering. "You're not off the hook that easily. You can't just apologize and expect me to believe you."

You nod. "You're right. I messed up, and I can't change that. But I can be honest with you now. The truth is, I've been afraid. Afraid of ruining our friendship, afraid of facing my own feelings. It's not an excuse, just an explanation."

Danielle raises an eyebrow and folds her arms. "Afraid? You?"

You chuckle wryly. "Fear doesn't always make sense. And I guess I've been scared of admitting that I like you too."

Her eyes widen, she's surprised "You do?"

You nod, your vulnerability laid bare. You hope you didn't make a mistake but you couldn't hold it in, it was now or never. "Yes, Danielle. I do. I've liked you for a while, but I never thought you could feel the same way. I convinced myself it was just a dream."

She tilts her head, a small smile playing on her lips. "So, Mr. Fearless finally admits he's not invincible."

You grin, the tension between you starting to dissipate.

Danielle steps closer, a playful glint in her eyes. As the rain outside continues its rhythmic dance, Danielle takes your hand. "No more hiding, okay? Let's figure this out together."

And for the first time, you hug her first. Your hand gently pulls her and she lets herself go, straight into your arms. You hug her softly, but with passion, with happiness. Danielle does the same, for the first time, not to tease you and not to try to make you fall in love because for once, she knows in her heart you truly love her.

THE END

Written, 16 February - 22 February 2024

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Can we get the obey me boys(the brothers + dia, barbs, solomon, and simeon) reacting to mc having severe period cramps? Would they get all demon-y at the smell of blood?

Love your stuff btw!

Signed, a yandere junkie~

I'll do two for now 🖤🖤🖤🖤

Period | Yandere Obey Me

For those in the devildom having a draw for chaos and mortal pain it’s quite normal for blood to bring about a different kind of reaction. But to the surprise of no one period blood and the whole menstrual cycle is a complete bafflement to all who catch a whiff. Don’t worry though, you have the brother and your various friends. This surely won’t strike any of them to have an unusual streak in emotion and self-control, right?:

Lucifer

“It’s that time I’m suspecting?”

“Yes.”

“Understood rest easy, take your time to rest my dear.”

“A-are you sure?”

“Of course I'm sure. Do you doubt my promise to keep you?”

One of the most casual about it 

He absolutely has done research for this exact occasion

But nothing is like experience in taking care of you himself

As well as the compulsion that has him being just as reactive as you

“You seem a bit different today Lucifer…”

“Am I? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oooh is that a gift from (Y/n)--”

“dON’t ToUCh tHaT!” 

“...”

“...”

“Sorry, I don’t know what’s with me this week.”

You’re not with him that’s what

For all the necessities he delivers he’s been keeping his distance

Taking the advice of the human care books he gave you your space

After all who better to deal with the human-female innerworkings than a human-female herself

But something feels wrong more than usual 

And it only seems to stop when he returns to your side at the end of the day

“Perhaps the hormones that are at work in you create a…guardian of sorts…out of me.”

He doesn’t really understand, all he knows is that when you were preparing to go to RAD he frantically calmly decided you’d not be attending

His excuse reasoning? That he would hate for any lesser demon to feel what he’s feeling 

That and he’d actually try to kill anyone who shows such similar inclination to protect you

“If anyone should stay to soothe you in this great time of need. I’m not above massacring any threats to you while you’re at your most vulnerable..” 

Generally he’s quite tame

…compared to his brothers

Diavolo

“Hey (Y/n) why’d you run off like that I thought we were having a good time.”

“Diavolo!?”

“Oh…hey (Y/n) if you’re hurt it’s okay to tell us we have tons of things that help heal humans.”

“Ugh! No that’s not what’s happening here!”

“Don’t be embarrassed here i’ll help!”

“Aghghgh!!!! Barbatos! Barb–Ah! Don’t you dare!”

A scolding and prompt lesson from Barbatos is very much in order

For someone so adamant on urging the blending of their worlds he doesn’t really know about this side of humanity

And unfortunately he’s never been one for backseat learning

“(Y/n), we’ve spoken and Diavolo would like to propose a hands-on-lesson with you about your menstrual cycle.”

“Uhm what kind of lesson?”

“One that will require he familiarize himself with all aspects of this process. Something that would preferably stimulate the five senses.”

“....”

“....”

“....Lucifer!!!! Solomon!!!”

Even better it has to do with you

What better way to strengthen your bond by having to monitor you

Not only for your safety but for all of humanity

“Hey later on we should definitely watch that movie together!”

“Oh yeah I thin–”

“I’m sorry but she cannot!”

“What why not?”

“Because she’s coming with me! The best place for a woman on muenster cycle is with me at the royal palace.”

“Uhm that’s not tr-”

“Here I’ll take you now!” 

He’s going to be hard to teach

But once you sit him down or snap at him one too many times

He’ll decide listening to you is the best course of action

In turn it will definitely build a relationship between you two

It may not be as romantic as he planned

But he’ll take it….for now 

After all there’s one every month

“That was fun! I can’t wait until the next time!”

Because he’s actively testing for it he might find some demons and creatures that react to it

But he won’t actively experiment with you in danger

Because it’s just not a good look to brutally murder every other subject of his that has a reaction he doesn’t like

“Next month I’ll have to convince them to let me get a swab or whole container full that’d be really hot.”

[hybbart]

Hey guys, I would really appreciate it if you stopped sending me messages about Lizzie's appearance. I get that most of you are just happy and/or think it's a compliment, but I've literally never had so many weird comments on a woman's body before, and it's getting really uncomfortable.

While I know I'm not always as good about it for men, as a character artist and as I hope is made clear in the design sheet I did for all the hermit and empire girls, I have always and will always draw all sorts of body types. That includes not just fat people, but fat people with different distributions and shape language- different everything. Lizzie and Cleo and Stress may all be fat and round but I like to think I did a very good job of making them all distinct in shape from each other in a way that converys their character.

I redesigned my Lizzie recently because I was wanting to draw her more, and I wanted her to allign better with my mental idea of her. She hadn't before because 1) I started off drawing her as the ocean queen and mayor who are very unlike her base self and monstrous, because she's cool like that. And 2) I never sat down and made a design sheet for her, so I constantly drew her differently and mixed her up with my Gem design. (which, go firgure, as a fan of sister characters, when I finally worked it out that mental idea ended up having a body type similar to my own little sister. Which makes it extra uncomfortable on a personal level.)

The fact is, when I draw women people casually comment on their body a LOT more, which is already a bit uncomfortable- and baffling, given that most of my sexualized pictures are of men. I get similar comments about how tall Pearl is, I've probably gotten more comments about how tall Pearl is than I have about how tall Jimmy is, and I draw him multiple times a week. But those comments are often at least done with a bit of amusement and not just straight up ogling her.

Every single time I've drawn Lizzie recently, though, I got an absolute flood of comments specifically talking about her body and nothing else. How fat she is, how attractive she is because she's fat, cat calls, and other more unsavoury language. Even backhanded compliments. I certainly didn't try to make her ugly, but I've not drawn her in pinups. She's doing the exact same things as every other character I draw, including herself before my redesign. And given that timing and VERY pointed nature of the comments, it's not exact rocket science.

Most of the comments haven't been too gross, thankfully. I'll chalk that up to a lot of the messages being people projecting onto her, which- that's a whole different can of discomfort worms. But it is constant and it is in place of literally anything else. I draw a whole comic about a funny moment with multiple people, and art I'm pretty happy with, and the only thing a dozen asks have to say is "Lizzie's fat!!🤤" which stands in quite the contrast to all the comparatively few comments about Jimmy being about how I drew his banana costume.

Anyways, what I'm asking is to please just be a bit more normal about women's bodies. I get that it's rarer, and it makes some people happy when they see characters like them, but focusing on how beautiful an unconventional woman is is still objectifying and making that woman's beauty her worth.

[sameschmidtdiffname]

Sweet Delights

Peeta Mellark x AFAB!Reader

Summery: It's a slow work day in District 12. With rain pouring down outside, who can blame you for wanting to indulge a little? Everything's fine so long as no one walks in... right?

Tags: Pre-established relationship, no use of y/n, pet names, reader has AFAB body/female pronouns, switch!Peeta, switch!Reader, edging, female fingering, teasing, count down, orgasm denial, blow job, face fucking, public sex, someone walks in, dirty talk, Peeta's a freak but he's sweet about it, praise kink if you squint, mentions of eating out, cum swallowing, cursing, post-Mockingjay but that's not really relevant, no reader orgasm this time around. Once again, I'm probably forgetting something.

Notes: I have to say, I did not expect Peeta to win the poll! And not to worry for everyone else, I'll get to all those characters eventually. (Derek girlies, I see you and I love you.) Thank you for your support on the last one, I hope you like this one too! Bon ABBA teeth.

•°《▪︎♡▪︎》°•

Peeta loves surprises.

Giving them, receiving them. If it's unexpected, Peeta is practically bouncing off his chair to figure out what to do with it.

It made everyday life sweeter. Slipping a note into his apron pocket when he wasn't looking for him to discover, finding a million more hidden in my apron. Little drawings hidden amongst everyday things, like the wildflowes Peeta likes to draw and place next to my powders and perfumes. But best of all surprises were the little pastries we would make when the days were slow and the other was watching the front of the bakery. Usually using scraps, because Peeta detests wasting food, but always delicious nonetheless.

The best innocent surprise, I should say.

Today was an especially slow day. Rain pounding down in District 12, making the roads thick with mud. It's a blessing for the hot ovens that fight against the cold seeping through the front windows. Although they're helping me more than Peeta, who's up front perched at the counter, insistent as always that someone needs to be watching the shop. "We won't hear the bell over the rain," he'd said.

I knew better than that. There were tells when Peeta wanted a surprise. He'd never just ask for something, always fearing rejection. Of course the minute I opened my mouth he was ready to do whatever I had even intrusively dreamed of so long as it meant love and praise. But to ask for himself? It's a whole different matter. So when he is insistent I work alone in the back, I understand that this is his own silent way of asking for some sort of surprise. And with the way his broad shoulders look in that pale yellow knit sweater, who am I to deny him?

I'm not one to deny him anything, quite frankly.

The best surprises of all are when we sneak up behind the other, always starting so innocently. Maybe while one of us is baking, maybe while one of us is simply dressing. With the quick slip of a hand, it doesn't take long before the other is panting and begging for release. Not that we always give it to each other.

Peeta liked sneaking up on me in private. Usually when I was in the back baking.

"What are you working on?" He'd usually ask.

"Custom order," I may answer with a smile. He liked my smiles, always said so.

"What are the details?" He'd ask. He'd put his hands on my lower back, rubbing soft enough to not disturb me while still working out some knots.

Then I'd prattle off details. This one is for so-and-so down on whatever-street-or-corner, they'd like a cake.

"For the Harvest Festival?" He'd ask. I'd nod, still focused on my task. "How many orders do we have for the Festival?"

"A good bit, it's our busiest time," I'd always say with a bright, soft tone to my voice. He'd chuckle, placing a small kiss on the back of my neck and pressing his hips against mine from behind, usually revealing his hard on.

"So, how many orders this year?" He'd ask. His hands would work at a knot, his breath hot on my neck, and his hips would roll ever so slowly against mine, taking his time to build both of us up.

"Ah, I think- I think 12?" I'd say, trying to focus on both him and whatever I was making. Cake. Right. Stir.

"12?" He'd ask. His cock would be deliciously hard, grinding against my clothed cunt just a bit harder as his hands would return to my hips, steadying me against him. "That's pretty good."

"Double digits," I'd say brightly, my voice breathy as I struggle more to focus. Cake. Stir. Hands, not hips.

But I'd always do hips instead, leaning back and tilting my head ever so slightly so he can see my enjoyment.

"You need to stir," Peeta would gently guide in my ear. My back would press against his front, his chin now resting on my shoulder.

"I know," I'd say softly. I didn't know shit.

He'd chuckle, one hand slipping to my front to cup one of my breasts.

"Need to get those orders out," he'd remind me. "You always seem so stressed about being on time."

"One of us has to be," I'd say. His hand on my hip would find the band of my pants, slipping past them and teasing me, sliding his fingers against my wet folds.

"Pick up the whisk," he'd instruct. My hands would shake as they obeyed, moving from being splayed across the marble counter to resume my task.

"Stir slowly," he'd say. His large fingers would slip over my entrance, coating himself in the thick lube now dripping from me. "You want to make sure the texture's correct."

It took such mental energy to balance the two things. Especially when he would finally sink in his middle finger, always going knuckle deep and twirling it around inside of me, making sure to leave no spot untouched. His other hand would pinch and pull at my breast, giving special care to make his fingers replicate the feeling of his soft lips wrapped around my sensitive nipples.

"What's the next order?" He'd ask. I could feel myself dripping down his hand, and I knew he loved this. Peeta would do whatever he could to make sure I was wet, even when he wouldn't go any further than simple teasing. I think he liked the idea of me always being ready. Not that he would assume. He always started out slow, and if I ever said no it was never a big deal. He'd simply continue talking to me and go on with his day perfectly fine. But if I was willing, he'd always massage or do whatever until he could feel my arousal himself. I think it's why he likes eating out best. Especially when I'd talk him through it, usually promising to cum down his throat while tugging his soft blond hair. His eyes would grow wide and soft at that, his whimpers increasing as he'd fuck me quicker with his tongue, grinding himself against whatever. It was a beautiful mess he'd turn himself into, desperate and begging silently as he clutched my hips.

"The what?" I'd ask breathlessly. I was tight around him, focused on how slow and sweet he was pumping in and out, twirling and wiggling his finger inside of me. His other hand slipping under my shirt, and his lips sucking gently at my neck, careful not to leave bruises.

"The orders, sweetheart," he'd gently remind me. "What's the next one?"

My lips would part, eyes fluttering shut as I tried to remember. His middle finger would pump out and then pump back in with the addition of his pointer finger, tearing a soft moan from my throat.

"Shh," he'd gently whisper. "We're at work."

He liked this little game. Ramping me up, forcing me to behave a certain way so to not tip off customers. If Peeta wouldn't immediately be arrested for it, something tells me he'd simply fuck me in the front room, bent over the register counter during business hours and just act like it's a normal thing. Such a sweet boy.

"I- ah- need to look at the book," I'd say. He'd roll my nipple between his two fingers, his other two fingers pumping slightly faster as his lips suck at the spot just under my ear.

"You have such a good memory though," he'd say. "You can remember. Just think."

That's a lie. I have a horrible memory and we both know it. But if I say I can't, he'll pull away. Sweet and gentle, he'll go get the book and place a million kisses on my cheek before leaving me to my work and dizziness.

Next order. Next order. That's easy. It's a tart with cream on top. Cream. God, I'd like his cock in my mouth right now.

"Next order. Come on, pretty girl. I know you know it," he'd softly encourage.

"I know it," I'd moan, my head tilted back and resting on his shoulder, fucking his fingers instead of working on the cake. He feels so good, so warm and protecting. Simply smelling the traces of dill and cinnamon baked into his skin made my mind shut off, my eyes growing tired from the feeling of safety.

"I know you know it," he'd say so sweetly. "You're smart, pretty. And you've got a delicious cunt I'd love to fuck over and over if I could," he'd say softly, placing warm kisses on my neck between each point. I was panting openly now, squeezing my eyes shut as I tried desperately to remember who ordered what.

His fingers curled inside of me, making rapid 'come hither' motions fast enough to steal a soft, sudden cry fron my lips. Peetas mouth found mine, swallowing my moans and giving me some of his own.

"I may have to count down, sweet girl," he'd warn me. His fingers had found my g spot, hitting and rubbing it at rapid speed. The cuff of his sweater is soaked from me, his hand sticky and coated. I shake my head quickly, moaning and gripping the counter as best I could to keep myself standing.

"I can remember," I whimpered. Peeta laughed softly.

"I know you can, sweet girl. But look at you, you're a total mess." His voice is sweet and kind, his eyes taking in my current state. "I can't have you all dumb back here during work hours."

He's sweet but he's cruel. God, he's cruel!

"I think there's berries in it," I stammered.

"Ten," he's start patiently, his teeth tugging at my earlobe.

"N-no, wait! There's- There's berries and there's..." I'm completely making this up. I have no clue what's next.

"Nine," he continued, knowing this.

"That's not fair, you started low on purpose!" I whined.

"Eight." He wouldn't argue. I was right.

"It's got- got cottage cheese frosting." I'm so close, so awfully close. I can feel myself clenching around him rapidly, my pussy swallowing his fingers quicker and quicker as I climbed closer towards the edge.

"Seven." Oh, God. This motherfucker.

"Six. Come on, good girl. You can do this," he'd encourage sweetly, kissing my cheek and trailing to my collarbone with said kisses.

"They wanted flowers on the top. Violets, I remember that!" That detail is actually true, surprisingly. The candy violets were always easy to remember because I loved them so much.

"Five." His other hand kneeded my breast, admiring the soft flesh and running his thumb over my stiff, aching nipple repeatedly. "Four."

"You're speeding up," I whined. "This isn't fair."

He let out a soft 'aw,' apologizing and speeding his hands to bring me closer to the edge.

"If you can come before one, I'll fuck you right here," he promised. "You can come before one, can't you?"

I nodded stupidly, moaning and panting as I sped up my hips, slamming down on his hand repeatedly. Cake details be damned, this is my mission now.

"Three." I'm so impossibly close.

"Two."

"Wait a minute, slow down-"

"One."

With one final, cruel, hard thrust of his hand he slips away, leaving me to almost crumple to the ground and opening my eyes to blink stupidly, trying to process what just happened.

"You okay?" He asked softly, his dry hand cupping my cheek and looking at me carefully with his sweet, hazel eyes.

A long, soft whine escaped me, batting my lashes as I lean against him and whisper as many 'please's as I can, pressing a dozen kisses all over him. He laughed softly, returning the kisses with whispered 'I love you's.

"Let me go get that book," he'd said. And that was that until that evening when he made up for it like he always did.

Now I was carefully removing a tiny apple pie made from leftovers meant specifically for Peeta. The rain was as bad as ever as I entered the front room, Peeta leaning on the palm of his hand while he struggled not to doze off. His long lashes flutter softly, his lips pressing against each other and his jaw a bit tight.

"Hi sleepyhead," I whisper, sneaking up behind him. He started a little, turning to look at me with the sweetest smile he has.

"Hi," he says cheerily, his voice just a touch gravely. His eyes glance down to the small treat in my hands, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "Is that for me?"

"Of course it is," I say, placing it in front of him. "Figured you could use something to warm you up. It's freezing up here."

He chuckles. "It's not that cold," he says as he picks up the fork I'd placed next to the tiny pie and began scooping some up.

"Liar," I teased. "You're shivering."

He shifts in his seat slightly. "Not from that," he says, a small blush growing on his cheeks. He takes the first bite, then another, smiling and leaning his head against my shoulder.

"Thank you, dear," he says softly. He leans in for a kiss to which I happily oblige, cupping his jaw with my left hand. His lips taste sweet, the sticky apple and cinnamon tasting delicious on him. I swipe my tongue across his lips, stealing a soft moan from him as he allows my tongue access to his mouth, melting in my hands. His hand dropped the fork, accidently missing the pan and instead hitting the counter, but neither of us care. His hand comes up to the back of my neck, pulling me closer to silently ask me for more.

My other hand trails down to his lap, finding one of his hands already there, palming his stiff, clothed cock through his pants.

"Is this what you were doing when I came up?" I ask softly, pulling away from the kiss only a bit. He chases me, biting at my bottom lip to drag me back to him. That's a yes, then.

My tongue explores his warm mouth, tasting him while my hand traces the outline of his dick, pressing and flicking against the tip. He whines, bucking softly into my hand, desperate for more.

"Can you stay quiet?" I ask him, pulling away again. This time my hand on the back of his neck grabs his golden locks, holding him still as I look into his eyes. His cheeks are red as well as his lips, kiss swollen and damp. His breathing is heavy, his eyes blown out. Barely touched and already a beautiful mess.

"Huh?" He asks, his voice higher than usual as he tries to focus. His hand grasping my wrist, making sure to keep my hand where he can buck against it.

"If I asked you to, would you stay quiet?" I repeat gently, teasing him with kisses by leaning forward and pulling away. We both liked this.

"Yes," he said quickly. "Anything."

"Anything?" I ask, raising my brows.

"Anything."

Alright.

I press a quick, admittedly sloppy kiss to his lips once more before dropping to my knees and slipping under the counter. His brows furrow in confusion before he realizes what I'm doing.

"You can't!" He whispers frantically. "What if someone walks in?"

"That's why I asked if you could stay quiet," I say patiently. "Can you?"

He bites his lip, obviously unsure. His eyes dart between me and the shop door, thinking.

"We can wait," I offer genuinely. This seems to be the deciding factor.

"I'll be quiet," he promises eagerly. "I've got a pie I can shove in my mouth if I can't, right?" He jokes, his smile crooked and eager as his hands work quickly to begin freeing himself. He's excited alright.

"Right," I say, taking his hands away and undoing the buttons on his pants myself. "Just keep watch of the shop, alright sweet boy?" He nods, placing his arms on the counter and trying to resume his position.

I slip his cock from the confines of his clothes, pressing a soft wet kiss to the underside along a thick vein. A quiet whine escapes him, his hand covering his mouth. I'm not truly worried about him being quiet, no one is going to come in here during such bad weather. It's just an edge to help work him into a frenzy, knowing full well he never stays quiet. I'd thought I was vocal when we started our relationship, but Peeta easily takes the cake.

His cock is warm, half hard against my lips that trail his veins. My tongue slides from his tip to his base, barely any pressure on his skin. Grazing always works best to start out with. When I reach his base I lap at his skin, blowing soft, cold air against the wet spots to make him squirm in his chair. I focus on his base for a while, sucking, licking, blowing. Ever so gently I even bite just the tiniest bit, enough for him to notice the edges of my teeth along his red, pulsing cock. His voice is soft, panting quietly.

My tongue trails slowly up his cock, exploring different ridges and spots that make him whimper quietly, working my way back to his tip which is soaked with thick, warm precum. I wrap my lips around him, swiping the moisture away with my tongue in one round sweep. I relish in the cry it tears from his throat, the dozen little apologies he whimpers immediately after. His hand covers his mouth, and the other trails down to gently cup the back of my head. I smile around him, swirling my spit around his tip as I suck gently, pressing my tongue against the underside of his dick.

His fingers play with my hair, unintentionally tugging it and apologizing as he does. I simply squeeze his thighs and begin lowering myself, taking him until his tip hits the back of my throat, taking deep, even breaths to fight off the gags that threaten to escape me.

It's when my nose buries in his soft, curly hair at his base that the bell of the front door rings.

"Hi!" Peeta says a little too quickly, a little too brightly. "Welcome to Mellarks Bakery. How may we- I help you today?"

I'm frozen, his hand gripping my hair out of anxiety. If I pull away, we'll be done. If I stay here, Peeta may very well have to make good on his promise.

Although, acting has never been a challenge for him, has it?

The customer is describing a custom tart she wants made, then pulling out a long list and prattling about this, that, and the other thing. Her accent clearly shows her as a Capitol transfer, and these orders always take forever given that they still have a hard time releasing the concept of not over indulging. But this time I don't plan on complaining.

My tongue begins to move slowly, rubbing carefully along the bottom of his cock while I watch his face carefully. He's smiling at the woman who's still going down the list, his eyes glancing at me to confirm this is what we're doing. With a small nod from me, his hand casually covers his mouth once more and he resumes focus on the woman, his other hand now guiding my head slowly, carefully.

He pulls me to the tip of his dick, working me back and forth slowly on just that spot. My tongue works quickly, my lips wrapping around him tightly to help create proper suction around him while I suck.

"Do you have pumpkin?" The woman asks.

"W- what?" Peeta asks, clearing his throat. "Oh, pumpkin. I'll admit I'm running a little low, it's been a popular request since we don't grow them locally. I've requested more but I don't know if they'll be in in time, so if you want something that uses it you'll have to get it-" his voice cracks as I deepthroat him again, swallowing around him quickly before returning myself to his tip. He clears his throat. "You'll have to reserve it right now," he finishes. I can see him quickly scoop up some of the pie, shoving it in his mouth and trying to hide his blush. It's lucky for us how oblivious Capitol born citizens are.

His hand guides me faster, focusing on fucking his tip near the back of my throat since we both know full well how hitting the back of my throat isn't an option. We can't risk any noise gagging may cause since it may not be covered up by the soft music playing on the shop speakers, a gift from Beetee for the reopening.

His pace is fast, faster than it should be. He's close, smiling at the woman and acting as though everything is normal. His large vein throbs, precum spilling out of him with each new thrust into my mouth. My hand reaches to press two digits against the soft spot behind his balls, a sensitive spot that makes him cry and squirm.

His jaw tightens as I do this, his eyes darting down daggers quickly. I can hear coins on the counter, Peeta accepting the list and opening the register. With the loud 'clank' springing forth from the older device, he takes the chance to slam my face down fully on his cock, his fingers making the coins loudly shift around as he gives the customer her change. Tears spring to my eyes from the sudden force, swallowing around him as I focus on my breathing to recover. He promises the woman he'll do what he can and wishes her a good day, and she coos sweetly. She reaches across the counter, patting his cheek and calling him a sweet boy before turning and walking out of the bakery, the bell chiming at her exit.

Peeta looks down at me, smiling brightly. "Hi," he says with a newfound excitement.

I moan around his cock. He gets it.

"You okay?" He asks, his hands moving to cup my cheeks. I make an affirming noise, trying to smile. "I wasn't too rough, was I?" He asks, his thumbs swiping away the small tears dangling from my bottom lashes. I shake my head, swallowing around him. He moans softly, his grip tightening.

"Yeah, I kinda forgot you like it when I am, don't you?" He asks, beginning to slowly pump his dick in and out of the back of my throat. I moan happily, taking him as easily as I can.

"You know how hard it was not coming down your throat with that lady in here?" He asks. "I had to edge myself so that it wouldn't become known how much I like fucking your throat."

My cunt throbs at his words, his closeness making him willing to be more rough. He starts fucking my face in earnest, tearing noises from both of our throats as he loses himself.

"Can't do that again," he pants. "Next time I'm just taking you. I don't care who walks in." He's moaning openly now, his cock abusing me. I can feel him throbbing, twitching. There's enough precum it's all I can do to focus on swallowing and breathing.

"Show this whole District how much I love you," he babbles. "I'll eat you out on this fucking counter, I don't give a fuck."

I press my heel against my clit, grinding into it to relieve some friction as my hands steady my body against his thighs. The chair underneath of him creeks horribly. If anyone walked in now, I don't even think we'd have a small second to hide what we're doing.

"I love your fucking pussy," he rambles, his eyes beginning to flutter shut. "Love your fucking mouth. You take me so well. So eagerly."

I moan around him, spit dribbling from my mouth, hair stuck to my face. His balls slam against my chin, his wet curls pressing against my nose as he face fucks me like a rabid animal.

"I'm gonna cum down your throat," he announces. "Then you're gonna cum down mine. Again," thrust. "And again," thrust. "Until we don't even have to make dinner from how full we'll be." Goddamn, he's close.

His hands are rough, gripping my face. "Rub your tongue harder," he commands. I do, putting as much pressure as I can on his throbbing vein. He moans loudly, leaning forward and clutching my head.

"I'm coming," he pants, his voice high and tired. "Fuck, I'm coming-!"

His warm, thick load shoots down my throat, filling my mouth so much I cant breathe if I want to swallow it all.

"Such a sweet girl," he praises. "So sweet and good, eager to make me cum." His face is pressed against the cool counter, his chest heaving as he recovers his breath. His thumbs stroke my cheeks at different paces, small whimpers escaping him as I milk him dry with my mouth, making sure not a drop is left behind. When he's fully softened, I place a small kiss on his tip before tucking him back in, rebuttoning his clothes and patting his thighs one more time.

It takes a moment for me to rise, my joints stiff and my mind scrambled from the abuse it had just suffered. I stumble a little as I stand, Peeta's weak arms collecting my body and bringing me into a warm embrace.

"You're wonderful," he whispers, resting his head against my chest. I chuckle softly, placing a soft kiss on the top of his messy hair.

"So are you," I say.

He looks up at me, flushed and smiling at me with the most wonderful, lazy look on his face.

"Your turn," he says, finding a new wave of surprising strength and placing me on the counter.

"Peeta, we're still open," I giggle, batting his hands away.

"I know," he says. "Did you think I was joking?"

He stares at me, smiling and eager as he begins to part my legs.

This is going to be a long night.

•《♡》•

Whoever gets second place on the poll is who I'm writing next. Feel free to send in requests for characters/scenarios! See you next time, you degenerates <3

Masterlist

[zivazivc]

Because of a recent ask about the dad's name I am dropping this old drawing that should go along with a oneshot I doubt I'll ever finish because I don't like it anymore, so better I just put this out there.

The dad's name is Keanu and his husband's name is Wave. I don't actually know anything about them but here they are 😅

And you can find a portion of the unfinished fic with this scene under the cut. Warning: Floyd is a mess. A much much bigger one than I actually/currently think his present self is, hence why I don't like this so much anymore (and it was never meant to be canon to my ex bandmates au anyway). It's still pretty funny though.

. . .

Before Bruce could notice the change in Floyd’s mood his eyes caught movement behind him by the entrance to the restaurant. His grin eased down into a more relaxed smile for him to return to business.

“We have another troll family coming in,” he said and turned around to pick up a set of small, freshly-printed and laminated menus from the counter. “Been getting quite a number of those since we hosted the concert.”

Floyd snatched them from his hand, eager to push the replay of his anxiety to the back of his mind, and get back to work. “I’m on it," he said determinedly. "You take care of the big guys.”

He didn’t even know if he could handle carrying another Vaycaytioner-sized family-sized order of food. He hogged the regularly-sized troll customers as much as he could. 

The new guests had settled behind one of the small inflatable plastic tables in the pool area close to the entrance where the sun was shining through. Even with their lower halves submerged in water, Floyd could immediately tell that they were Techno Trolls from the way their hair flowed in the air, like gravity was just an afterthought to them.

Once he got closer, Floyd saw that it was presumably two dads around his age with their two kids. His eyes immediately glued themselves to the older, more physically attractive of the two men, because that’s what he always seemed to find himself doing in these situations. Not that it was his fault the guy was hot and Floyd had been grounded to perfume bottles, armadillo RVs, and underground bunkers for months on end.

When he made it to the pool edge and stood right above their floating table, he finally caught himself gazing. He blinked and reeled his stupid horny thoughts back in before he would do something dumb like bite his lip and give him the bedroom eyes in front of his husband and kids. Not that something like that had been completely beneath him in the past. But he was currently on a shift in his brother’s restaurant, so…

He put on a more acceptable, family-friendly smile.

“Hi, welcome,” he said easily, sounding nothing like how his spasmodic thoughts felt in his head. “How’s everyone doing? You guys hungry?”

He crouched down and leaned over the edge of the pool to hand them the menus.

“Starving, actually,” the attractive techno troll said with a friendly laugh in his voice, and leaned over the inflatable table to grab them. And Floyd’s eyes traveled down that toned arm and exposed stomach. Not only did he ooze the confident, warm charisma of someone who had his life together, he was also fit. Floyd almost fell into the pool in his attempt to accidentally brush fingers with him. The guy was back in his spot in the water before either of those things happened, much to Floyd’s relief and disappointment.

He straightened up and pulled up his notepad and pencil almost like a shield. Fuck, Floyd, get your head straight! “Can I get you anything to drink while you decide what you'll have?”

“Nah, I think we’ll look first,” the guy replied without lifting his eyes as he handed the menus to the rest.

Floyd was about to give up on his first round of trying to get this man’s attention, and sigh in relief that his stupid wants weren’t being entertained, when he registered a different set of eyes staring hard at him. He glanced to the left, to the other guy behind the table.

The intensity of the glare nearly made Floyd recoil.

His first thought was: Shit, I wasn’t even trying to be obvious. Because when he was, the angry stares he would receive from jealous boyfriends or girlfriends were usually heated and flustered, not intensely sharp and cold. The steadiness with which he was being pinned didn’t even feel like a newly developed loathing.

Shit was also Floyd’s second thought. He’s looking at me like we know each other… I haven’t already fucked his man before, have I? Floyd wasn’t so good with faces or names …or memory in general when it came to certain episodes in his life. But surely the hot husband would have remembered him at least…

Then his mind wandered to the other possibility. Did we fuck??

Whenever he tried to iron out his life, his stupid past actions always seemed to come back to bite him in the ass. He really hoped this wasn’t one of those cases.

He stared at the troll’s face, trying to place him somewhere. Techno Troll (that didn’t narrow it down that much), hair in two different gradients of blue, dark purple skin, a younger-looking face even for a Techno Troll, bright green eyes, and green freckles…

Sweat broke down Floyd’s back, and it had nothing to do with his recovering physical condition.

He swallowed uncomfortably and instinctively pulled his pencil and paper slightly closer to his chest. His eyes finally looked over to the other side of the inflatable table. He had only briefly glanced at the kids before, enough to know they were kids and uninteresting. But looking at them now… Floyd immediately deviated a couple of shades from his natural hue.

Neither had any of the hunky dad’s warm colors; in fact, the kids weren’t even fully Techno. They were mixed like his friend Liv. The scarce strands of thin, luminescent Techno cords were nearly swallowed up by dense, fluffy, regular hair. The girl—they were a boy and a girl—was lounging on a pool float with her feet in the air, and Floyd could see that instead of flippers, she had legs with the unusually webbed feet, kind of something like an amphibian. The other kid—the boy—had skin that didn't have the dim effect or rubbery texture to it that Techno Trolls normally had, and it was an uncomfortably familiar shade of turquoise. Both of them sported hot pink bangs over their eyes.

“Ah,” Floyd uttered out loud like some kind of dumbass.

The three heads who had been engrossed in the restaurant menu all looked up, surprised to see him still standing there. Floyd evaded their gazes only to lock eyes with the purple troll again.

He… He was the kid from the week-long, non-stop techno rave, back when Floyd had been deep in his sour worm addiction and going through a long manic episode to top it off… At one point during the party someone brought out pure citric acid and Floyd blanked out for three days straight after that, only to wake up in an unfamiliar bed with a double surprise…

It was like a switch, but now Floyd could clearly remember the young adult version of this troll floating around his dorm room with the egg from Floyd’s head in his hands, panicking about how his parents were going to kill him, all while Floyd silently lay in bed contemplating if he should mention the other egg stuck in the kid's hair or if he should just say he’s going to the bathroom and then never return.

“Uhm.” He swallowed uncomfortably, wanting to be anywhere but here. Maybe not the crystal bottle, but anywhere else. “…I think I should get you a different waiter…”

The purple troll’s glare did not waver in the slightest. “I think so too.”

Floyd took that as permission to bail on him a second time. He turned around on his heel and practically ran from the pool edge.

“Keanu, you good?” he heard the husband ask, sounding obviously confused about what just transpired.

Well, at least Floyd knew what to call that troll in his head now instead of just "kid"…

. . .

[whumpdoyoumean]

Whumptober #8

xxx forced to stay awake

"Do not let him sleep!" Louisa's voice, sounding strange and distant. It reminds River of the vinyl records he used to listen to with the OB as a kid, the really old ones that made his granddad get that wistful look on his face that disappeared again as soon as he caught River looking at him. Things were so much simpler back then. If he closes his eyes, he can almost pretend he's back there...

"Cartwright!" Lamb snaps, shaking him a little. "Do you want to be fired from the Service for good?"

In this moment, that actually doesn't sound like too much of a bad thing if River is being honest. He doesn't say so.

"That wasn't rhetorical." Lamb's voice is loud, sharp. "We both know how your last job interview went. No one that's any good'll take you, which means you'll be stuck behind a desk at some basic mid-level office job. Or maybe a private firm'll take you on, like your old pal Webb! Imagine working for those arseholes. Is that what you want?"

"No," River mutters.

"No? Then keep your fucking eyes open!"

River forces himself to comply. There's not much to look at, really: the back of the passenger seat; the blood on his hand; Jackson Lamb's knees; the back of Louisa's head and, when he lifts his gaze a little, a glimpse of her worried face in the rear-view. The inside of his eyelids offered a better view.

The car hits a bump, jolting him and ripping a cry from his throat as pain tears through his side and chest where the bullets had struck. His vision goes dark for a second, and then he's pulled back to awareness by the sound of Lamb's raised voice.

"Jesus Christ," he's saying. "Who taught you how to drive?"

"I'm sorry!" Louisa, voice pinched. "River, come on!"

River groans, and prying his eyelids apart is harder this time. Breathing is hard, too. Everything is hard.

"River, talk to me! You okay?" Louisa cries.

"Yup," River gasps. Another groan. "Hurts."

"I'll bet it does," Lamb says. "Maybe next time you'll think twice before running off on your own like a fucking dickhead, eh? Course, I thought the same thing the last two times you did it. It's like you never learn, no matter how many times I tell you to stop doing stupid shit."

"You can..." River really shouldn't be wasting his breath on this, but he can't help it. "You can lead a horse to water."

Lamb makes a noise that could be a snort of laughter or, more likely, he's hacking up something disgusting.

"I don't know that I could lead you fuck-ups to water if we were on a-a tiny island in the middle of the Pacific."

River tries to draw in another breath to respond, but his chest hitches and he lets out a wet cough. His mouth fills with the taste of iron and he almost gags, but coughs again instead, blood flecking his lips, and he just keeps coughing. Panic is creeping in, black dancing at the edges of his vision. He can't get enough air...

"Keep breathing," Lamb commands, his words filtering through the ringing in River's ears. The pressure he's been holding on the hole in River's chest increases as he tightens his grip.

He doesn't know how long it takes, it feels like a lifetime, but the coughing fit finally subsides. His chest is burning, head pounding. He can't catch his breath. And, more than anything else, he's so, so tired. It's a deep, heavy exhaustion. He just wants to sleep.

"Cartwright! You open your fucking eyes, now."

Fucking Lamb. Louisa is speaking too, but River can't discern the words. She's too far away. He suspects she wants him to stay awake too, though, damn her. Damn both of them.

"Now!" Lamb repeats, tapping River's face. "You hear me, Cartwright? That's an order. I know you're shit at following those, but you had better follow this one. Come on. Eyes open. If you won't do it for me, do it for Guy. You saw what happened after Min. What do you think'll happen if you die in her backseat?"

That sparks something, the faintest bit of anger, and River's eyes open a little. He doesn't know how he manages it.

He doesn't know if he'll manage it again.

xxx

[soaringwide]

Pick a Card: What is Unique about You?

Hey :p

Welcome to a new pick a pile reading. Today we'll do the winner of last poll, with What is Unique about You? Which is a ''get to know yourself'' type of post.

We'll look at 3 different things: what makes your mind unique, what makes your heart unique, and what unique wisdom do you hold. For each row, I'll draw at least 3 cards to get a full picture.

So focus on the picture that draws you in the most, and remember that this is a general reading meant for multiple people so it might not resonates 100%.

Check out all my pick a cards here

I'm also on ig

I offer paid readings, see my pinned post :)

PILE 1

Cards: King of swords, 2 of Cups, the Emperor, Ace of Swords, 10 of Swords, Page of Swords, Queen of Wands, King of Cups, Page of Wands, 10 of Wands

Right off the bat, pile 1, you have a very intellectually active mind, always pushing boundaries and looking forward. Air and Fire dominate your reading, and there is a strong presence of King figures. You seem strongly seated in your power and the things you've learned, and may shine as some type of authority figure to those around you. With two Tens, there is also the idea of completion, which implies the end of a cycle as well and the beginning of a new one. But let's look at the rows.

What is unique about your mind:

To you, seeking knowledge is the greatest form of power one can aim for, and you take it to heart. You're always reaching out to learn more, which is a way for you to transform yourself and overcome life's difficulties. Your mind is explorative, methodical, and forward thinking. I also get the idea that you might be neurodivergent in some way, and that you use this thirst for knowledge to bridge the gap between you and people, always pushing to learn more about those around you, like an eternal student of humans, which helps you function in society. You like order and cataloguing things, organizing everything you've learned in systems which again helps you understand the world and those around you better. There is no topic that your mind cannot tackle, you break things down until you have full control over them. You probably have many areas of interest.

What is unique about your heart:

You've been through your share of heartaches and know what it feels like to hit rock bottom. Despite that, you've never let it paralyze you for too long, for you know that when you fall the only way is up. You're heart is brave and determined, but you may also guard it fiercely. Your heart is ruled by your mind, but it also has a strong passionate fire which fuels your progression in life. You've got this well of optimism within you that makes you look forward in spite of everything else. You probably hide it well though, and may enjoy a more twisted or darker style of humor, which is well-meaning and is more the result of your life experiences than a desire to shock for no reason. For you, laughing in the face of pain is a way to move forward and to tell life that it can't keep you down forever.

What unique wisdom do you hold:

You know that you can overcome anything with the sacred fire on your side. Your unwavering passion and go-getter attitude are the reasons why you came this far. You've also learned that your emotions are not here to put you down but great guides that can help you through life if you listen to their messages. Despite your mind ruling everything, you're deeply empathetic and while you keep that to yourself, it is a strong force that underlines the way you move in life. You've learned that it's necessary to work hard to get what you want and you're deeply ambitious, not so much in financial matters since pentacles are absent from all of your cards, but on a soul-level.

PILE 2

Cards: Ace of Wands, the Hanged Man, 3 of Pentacles, Ace of Swords, Queen of Swords, Knight of Swords, 3 of Cups, 8 of Wands, 4 of Wands, 10 of Pentacles, Page of Wands, the Magician

What makes your mind unique

This is the pile of the deep thinkers who plan ahead carefully in order to take the right actions. You have a knack for thinking outside of the box and being highly creative, which allows you to see the steps ahead in a very practical and goal oriented way. It may look like you take your time before acting, but so much is happening under the surface, and when you do decide to move, it's calculated and purposeful. There is also an element of passionately researching things before setting on an opinion, relying on the wisdom of others to feed your own. There is no end to your quest, there's always something more to learn.

What is unique about your heart

You are a deeply honest person who strives for being true to what you feel and think. You may have a tendency to rationalize your emotions, which may make you look a bit harsh or detached at times because you say things as they are without considering how it makes other people feel. However, you are deeply loyal to your circle of loved ones and will go above and beyond to defend them. You are highly communicative of what you think/feel (those things tend to blend for you) and do not hold back in any circumstances. Being truthful is a way to honor yourself and you like speaking up, not only to make things right, but also, to bring clarity to yourself. It's like you need to talk or write to bring sense and order into what happens within, and you tend to do the same for others.

What unique wisdom do you hold

Again, a very fiery creativity comes through here. You've learned to be proud of yourself and what you've achieved. That in order to create something great, you must start with the first piece and patiently build it bit by bit. And that will mean different things for different folks, but for example it could be a creative venture, or a career/studies, or even a strong social circle that took you years to nurture. You never lost your passionate spark, always looking forward to what can be improved, looking up optimistically. There is no end to your adventure and you want to add even more wins and achievements to your track records. You truly are a creator and truth seeker in the deepest sense, inventive and clever, and your found the fire to carry you forward for years to come.

PILE 3

Cards: Justice, Temperance, 8 of Wands, 4 of Cups, the Hermit, Longing of Wands, 8 of Swords, 5 of Cups, Death, 7 of Pentacles rx, Queen of Wands, the World

What is unique about your mind

You are very quick thinking, rapidly making connections between things and sparking new trails in your mind. It's a way for you to bring order to your perception of the world, to make things right and balanced through understanding and making up your own opinion on things. You are very aware of humans shortcomings and have some type of rational empathy for the failures of others. You have a very neutral approach to things and always make sure you have all information at hands before making a judgement, but once you do, there's usually no turning back.

What makes your heart unique

You're somewhat a bit closed off emotionally, which makes you distant from your emotions. You have a very explorative way to approach them, as if you had to actively seek to understand them in order to perceive what they want to say. You really think that your emotions are to be listened to, but you also often feel threatened by them, which makes you hesitant to let yourself feel them. The other side of that, is that you can easily feel overwhelmed and stuck in what you feel, unable to see beyond. But you're fully aware of that and determined to see through this mystery. You may need to spend some time contemplating what you feel, perhaps through journalling or meditating, or anything done alone, which also implies that when you can't do that, you remain in the fog. You're also not someone who acts against their heart, which may freeze you in place a bit when you're not sure about how you feel. You are whole and authentic in that way.

What unique wisdom do you hold

You've been marked by loss and grief in the past, and felt like something that you held dearly, something you cherished and put a lot of effort into, got struck and destroyed. But you're fully aware that change, even when dramatically painful and unwanted, brings the seed of something new, and that you can find a new beginning in all things. This gave you a vicious sense of independence and optimism. Like the only way to get revenge on life is to shine brighter. You keep your sufferings close to yourself and I get the feeling that you go back and forth between looking back in regret and looking forward in hope. I do however feel like the hope side is stronger these days because of that wisdom of change I was talking about. Life is made of cycles and you know how to dance with its tune.

[letmetellyouaboutmyfeels]

why are people so against oliver and ryan talking about buddie, don't we want this, don't we want buddie to be canon? i'm sorry are we rooting for buck to end up with tommy or something, like I don't understand why so many people are saying stop asking them about buddie?

If we want Buddie then shouldn't we be asking buddie questions? I mean I'm so sorry but I'm just very confused, shouldn't we be happy that buddie is getting this much press and love? Why are we against it?

Okay, this is going to be a long one.

There are a few reasons why people are concerned about publications teasing Buddie happening and using the ship name and asking Oliver and Ryan about the ship. I'll try to be as concise as possible.

I would like to note, I'm not going to answer a bunch of questions about this. Other people have answered similar questions plenty of times, if you take a bit to look around 911blr. I'm sure @catdadeddie has gone into this a few times.

However, I understand that we are getting a lot of new fans this season, and so I want to try and explain comprehensively for those who haven't been around. I hope this covers everything.

Whenever a ship is between two people of the same gender as opposed to two people of the opposite gender (I know, I know, but we can't get into the gender spectrum right now just play along with me), everyone involved has to be very, very careful when it comes to talking about that ship ahead of said ship going canon.

It is very easy to slip into something called "queerbaiting." I'm assuming that you and most people online and in fandom by now have heard of this term but just in case: queerbaiting is when a show acts like a queer ship might happen in marketing and promotion in order to draw in a queer audience.

Historically, this was done by having a main character played by a woman have a romantic thing with another woman (flirting, even kissing!) who was a guest star, hinting at the main character's bisexuality/queerness, only for that guest star to never come back and for the show to act like it had never happened. This was done during something called, IIRC, "sweeps week" which was basically an important week for TV viewer ratings in the 90s. It was a way to boost your numbers by drawing in queer viewers with the promise of actual queer rep that then wasn't realized. It's a marketing tactic.

Nowadays the nature of queerbaiting has changed a bit. It's an overused term that frankly people love to (mis)use whenever a ship of theirs doesn't go canon and a show dares to do things like having two people (like say Ryan and Oliver) who play the two halves of the ship do an interview together (whether you ship Buddie or not, they are close friends, and it makes sense that they'd do a few interviews together - that is not queerbaiting). A good example of real queerbaiting is Rizzoli & Isles which, among other things, took out billboards and magazine spreads showing the characters (two women) in suggestively sexual and romantic positions and with slogans hinting that the two had more than just friendship together, then never, ever delivered on it and in fact laughed at the idea of the characters being gay for each other.

(I WAS THERE, GANDALF!!!)

Because of this unfortunate treatment of queer audiences and the (historic) dearth of actual queer characters and queer ships going canon (it's getting better but still), networks, showrunners, and so on have to be very careful when, say, they want to make a queer ship canon.

Look at how ABC handled Chenford, a popular ship in their show The Rookie. Chenford was not a planned ship - the fans adored the chemistry between the two characters (Lucy Chen and Tim Bradford), the writers liked the idea and decided to lean into it, ABC gave the go-ahead, and the ship officially got together and went canon last season. ABC heavily promoted Chenford and the ship and made a lot of jokes about it in the last couple of seasons leading into the ship going canon, using the ship heavily in their marketing.

ABC cannot necessarily do that with Buddie, because even if Buddie is going canon, until that happens, they could get accused of queerbaiting. There's a much bigger minefield to navigate because of this historic misuse of queer audiences and queer characters.

So whenever journalists and publications use a popular non-canonical queer ship name for clicks and fandom interest, if that ship doesn't immediately go canon or if the network/showrunner/etc doesn't say "yeah they're totally gonna kiss! with tongue!" people accuse the show of queerbaiting. This is unfair to the show for two reasons: one, the network is not going to bother sending "shut the fuck up" letters to every single damn publication out there for using a ship name in their headline and talking about a ship - they'll be accused of homophobia and it draws even MORE attention to the issue re: the Barbra Streisand effect (look it up); and two, the people involved in the show are NOT going to spoil the anticipation and surprise by admitting ANY ship is going to go canon before it does.

This is simple marketing - the movie trailer doesn't (or shouldn't, anyway) show you the ending of the movie or everything that happens in it. TV shows want you to tune in every week and speculate and guess. They're not gonna spoil a ship ahead of time.

This means that when journalists and articles pull this shit, they're putting the showrunner, the writers, the actors doing interviews, and the network in a bad situation that they can't really do anything about. Not without causing more mess.

So that's reason number one why a lot of us are annoyed: by yelling about Buddie, these articles and journalists are setting the cast and crew we love up to get yelled at for queerbaiting if Buddie doesn't immediately happen, and there's nothing the cast and crew can do about it, and it's all so the journalists and articles can use us, the fandom, for clicks. So we're also kinda getting used here, and it doesn't feel great.

The second reason we're annoyed about Buddie questions is that it's being asked of the actors who, nine times out of ten, have ZERO CONTROL OVER THE STORYLINES.

Now, there are exceptions. Jennifer Love Hewitt, who plays Maddie, has pushed back on a couple storylines that were given to her and has therefore had a strong hand in shaping Maddie's character. One infamous (in a positive way) example is that Maddie and Eddie were supposed to be an endgame couple. JLH, however, immediately loved the character of Chimney and clicked with Chim's actor Kenneth Choi, so she asked if Maddie could get with Chim instead, feeling he'd be a better fit for her character. And lo, both the beautiful ship Madney and the insanity that is Buddie shipping was born because Buck ended up stepping into that co-parenting-Chris role that Maddie obviously would've originally filled.

However, it should be noted that JLH was an established star before coming onto 9-1-1, and her husband is friends with Tim the showrunner. I would argue that the only other two actors who have any power on their storylines are Peter and Angela, the latter because she can do whatever she wants forever, and the former because (like Angela) he is an executive producer on the show.

It's not that actors never ever get to have a say ever, but the writers, showrunner, and network have much more power. They create the storylines, they make the decisions. Not actors. So when the actors are repeatedly asked about a ship, they're put in an awkward position where they might not even know the full storyline for their character that season and now they need to answer in a way that doesn't reveal any information they do know, but also doesn't insult shippers or dash their hopes. This is a double minefield for queer ships because, again: historic insults to queer fans and characters, nobody wants to be offensive.

The third reason is that this fandom has, historically, treated Tim, Oliver, and others like absolute dogshit over Buddie not going canon. Oliver's left Twitter and taken big social media breaks because of how he was yelled at online. It's not cool, guys. Vent all you want but directing it at the cast and crew isn't okay and maybe if it was just you talking sternly that would be fine (maybe) but when it's dozens of people? It's bullying. Full stop.

Every single time Buddie has not gone canon instantly, the actors and others have gotten verbally abused on social media. Every time the actors have been asked about Buddie and not said "ohmygod yes I want it to happen so bad" (they are not allowed to say this because it might create false hope because again: historical queerbaiting) they've gotten yelled at. We are tired of the actors getting yelled at over something over which they have no control.

The fourth reason is that Oliver, especially, has gotten asked about Buddie a LOT. A lot. The poor man is very tired. He's been cornered about Buddie and asked about it aggressively by certain journalists (one journalist, Max Gao, actually tried to corner Gavin who plays Chris over Buddie - this was a few years ago so Gavin was even younger than he is now and I personally think that is an incredibly unfairly loaded question to give to a child).

If I may dive into speculation for a moment, given how the actors have been SO gleeful about the move to ABC, the fact that they've admitted ABC is letting them do storylines and little moments that FOX wouldn't, and a few other things I won't get into here because this damn thing is long enough already... I suspect FOX would not let Buddie happen. If this is the case, then actors being asked about Buddie is even more loaded because they are being asked questions about it and they can't say "yeah we want to but the network won't let us." THEY WILL GET FIRED FOR THIS.

But, whether or not my speculation is true, the fact remains that when you are repeatedly, over and over, aggressively asked if this fan ship is going to happen or not, you get tired. There's only so many times that someone can give a diplomatic answer before you just want to snap "stop fucking asking me!" Journalists love to take advantage of fandom and social media chatter to get attention for their articles so asking over and over again about Buddie isn't because they genuinely care or think it'll happen, it's to get shippers reading their article, and so bombarding the actors and writers with this question when they've already kinda said their peace a lot about it is frustrating. Just! Leave them alone!

And AGAIN: if this was a M/F ship there could maybe be room for teasing the will-they-won't-they but because of historically bad treatment of queer characters and fans, THEY CANNOT DO THAT. So the only option open to them is to KEEP THEIR MOUTHS SHUT. And keeping one's mouth shut and threading that diplomatic needle for years is EXHAUSTING.

We do want Buddie to be canon, nonny, and in my opinion we are going to get it. All this recent PR supports that, (again: in my opinion).

However, we have seen Oliver get bombarded with what he thinks about Buddie until the cows come home, and he deserves a break. There's nothing new he can say, there's nothing new he's allowed to say. We have seen other parts of the fandom scream that we're being queerbaited because Buddie didn't instantly go canon, without any consideration for the fact that a) queerbaiting is a marketing tactic and b) there might be other factors at play preventing it going canon. We have seen journalists take advantage of us, the shippers, in order to get attention, and we have seen them create an awkward and embarrassing atmosphere in interviews by repeatedly asking about the ship. We have seen shippers make us look bad by hounding the cast and crew on social media about Buddie, treating every woman actress who plays a Buck/Eddie love interest like shit (yes, I know about Edy, but she could be a saint and parts of the fandom would still go onto Instagram to call her names), and generally being absolute pills that would tempt any showrunner, actor, or writer to say "y'know what fuck 'em let's not make Buddie canon I'm not rewarding this shitty behavior."

"If we want Buddie then shouldn't we be asking Buddie questions?" No. Not like journalists and fans have been. It's something to bring up - in my opinion - sparingly and with an awareness of how queer storylines and ships and fandom have been mocked, ignored, baited, and so on over the years. They don't ask about Buddie because they give a shit. They ask because they want our clicks for their ad revenue and they want our retweets and likes and comments. And it's certainly not something to bombard the actors with on social media and bitch at them if it doesn't happen. It just makes the rest of fandom look bad and makes us look like children.

Additionally: These are not new questions! They're not only asking these questions now that it looks like Buddie will go canon, with serious hope and consideration based on the marketing and storylines. They've been asking this since season fucking two, when Buddie was clearly not planned, just to get fangirl (gn) clicks. They wanted to get attention and teehee over how Oliver/Ryan/whoever reacted to people thinking Buck and Eddie should touch dicks. 'Kay?

We know the pattern. So when every piece of media is screaming BUDDIE!!! we are not seeing it as "OMG could we go canon?" We see it as another round of being taken advantage of for article attention, another round of parts of the fandom being bullies and yelling about being baited, and another round of the actors being backed into uncomfortable corners.

That's why we're concerned, worried, and annoyed.

*collapses* I hope this covered everything and explained it all.

[covetyou]

first steps

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist part one ⋆ part two ⋆ part three

pairing: cuck!Joel x f!reader rating: Explicit (18+ only!) warnings: cuckolding, daddy kink, unprotected PIV, creampie, cuddle!fucking!, kinda premature ejaculation, praise kink, pet names, reader gets a brief foot rub, mention of male OC, ddlg vibes, established relationship. word count: 3.6k summary: You can't get thoughts of him out of your head, and Joel does nothing (or everything?) to help matters.

A/N: this takes place at the start of cuck!Joel's adventures in being cucked. they're on a journey of self discovery here folks. I daresay this is almost sweet and soft. look at me go. I'm growing as a person. follow @covetedfics and turn notifications on for updates on future work

You're in bed already; teeth brushed, washed up, and those god forsaken shoes off of your aching feet, waiting for Joel and his promised foot rub. It had been a long day, and an even longer evening, made longer still by the ache cramping your toes.

You huff to yourself - patience not being your strong suit when it came to Joel - and throw yourself back into the pillows. You were quite happily getting handsy downstairs, palming his erection through his dress pants when his phone had rang. At 11pm on a Friday. You'd rolled your eyes at him, pulling away as he swatted at your ass. It was a work call he said. He had to take it.

"I'll be up as soon as I can, baby," he called after you, and you had stuck out your tongue at him before disappearing up the stairs, shoes in hand.

It was okay, you figured. You'd spent the best part of the night mildly tormented. A few more minutes wouldn't hurt. From the moment you'd got to Joel's house that evening, he'd been touching you, whispering praise, telling you how beautiful you looked and how he wanted to just take you right there and then but sorry baby, we gotta get goin'. That hadn't stopped him sliding a hand up your thigh and dancing his fingertips across the front of your panties for the entire ride to the venue. By the time you got there, you were dripping and ready to come, but he had simply extracted his hand and got out of the car, leaving you hot and bothered and alone in the passenger seat.

And it hadn't got much better from there. Joel was making his way around the room, introducing you with a look in his eye that made you weak at the knees. You'd never known someone to be so proud to know you, so keen to show you off, before you'd met Joel. His hand would slide protectively up your back, drawing goosebumps across your flesh, or lightly ghost over your ass, whispering promises of later in your ear. He pressed endless kisses to your temple, and more than once you had to fight the supernova in your chest from exploding outward, flinging yourself at him with the force of it, and begging him to take you home as you wept into his mouth.

But then he'd introduced you to him. A contractor who he'd picked up on their latest job. He was shorter than Joel, and well dressed with dark hair and pristine shoes. You remember the shoes well - you'd focused on them for a long time, unable to keep looking at his face for fear of the heat that would spread to yours.

"This is my girl. Told you about her," Joel introduced you, shouting loud over the noise booming from the speakers. He kissed you on the side of the face then, watching you like a hawk as you looked up and smiled sweetly at the beautiful man before you - Andrew, from what you heard Joel say over the music - and choked out a small hello.

Joel took that moment to excuse himself.

"Gonna go get our friend here another drink."

You turned to kissed him square on the mouth before he could stride off, leaving you alone with Andrew, nipples puckering almost painfully beneath the thin material of your dress.

Small talk had been awkward all evening, mostly because you hadn't really wanted to be there, but with Andrew it was anything but. He spoke to you like it was the easiest thing in the world, laughing and joking together like you'd known each other for longer than a few minutes. You were transfixed, talking animatedly as you rested a hand on his arm, making a comment that made him laugh, a deep contagious thing that made your core drip with want. All the while, dark eyes from across a room stare at you, and you don't realize for a second that it's taken much longer than a few minutes to grab a drink.

Joel had known, you were sure of it. Maybe it was your wide eyes, or your shuffling feet played off as just the ache in your toes, but talking to Andrew did something to you, and Joel knew. Finding out he was here alone and would be going home to an empty apartment too was more of a thrill than it should have been. Not that you would be. You'd be going home with Joel, but that made the thought of him all the sweeter.

It's a thought that still lingers with you as you lie here in Joel's bed hours later. You sigh, trailing your fingertips softly up your body, willing Joel to hurry up and finish his phonecall so he can relieve the ache from more than just your feet.

And that's just how he finds you a few minutes later. Caressing your own soft flesh beneath crisp sheets, caught in a fantasy of a shapeshifting man.

"Sorry baby, was Tommy. Security called him in for a late delivery, ruined his date." You open your eyes, not realizing you'd even closed them, and look up at him with a soft smile. The shapeshift man is clear as day now, no longer shifting between the men that could be, but staying firmly as one that is right in front of you. Fuck, do you want him.

His back is to you tugging his shirt from his arms, revealing broad shoulders and his soft belly as he turns. He spots your hands moving beneath the sheets you'd tucked yourself into, unable to keep them still even now that he's here.

"Gettin' started without me?" he asks, looking at you with a raised eyebrow.

"You were taking too long," you say, dragging your fingertips across the swell of your breasts and up your neck into a lazy stretch.

Reaching for your outstretched leg, he pulls your foot from its confines, making you yelp and giggle as he tugs you down the bed. He did promise you a foot rub. Strong thumbs push into your arch, rubbing there, making your foot flex, the ache in your sole abating just a little with each slow rotation. You groan, lost in the relief his hands bring, before he's switching to the other foot and doing the same all over again.

You're Jell-o by the time he's finished, kissing all over your calves, knees, thighs, as he crawls up your body.

He nuzzles into the soft front of your panties, still damp or newly damp, you're not quite sure, and breathes you in. He mouths at you over the thin fabric, and you're so desperate for more friction on your clit after hours of waiting that you wiggle, trying to grind yourself against his face.

"I know what you want when you get all wiggly, baby," he says, a knowing smile pulling at his lips. He tickles his fingers across your damp crotch, making you wiggle even more. "You want your daddy, don't you?"

"Yes, Daddy," you say eagerly, reaching down to scratch at the scruff on his face, trying to tug him up to you for a kiss. "I've been a good girl."

He presses a long kiss to your palm, nudging your hand away with his head so he can burrow his face into your mound again. "Mm. You have. Know you didn't wanna stay that long, but you did so good for me." It comes out as nothing more than a mumble, the deep vibrations of his voice shooting straight to your pussy.

The truth was you hadn't expected to like anything about this evening that didn't involve Joel. But you had, and that had made sticking around far more tolerable than it should have been, even with the consistent trickle of want through your core.

"Think we should get these panties off o' you and see what mess we're dealing with. Been worked up all night, huh?" he asks, as if he hadn't been responsible for it.

He peels your underwear from you, tugging them down your legs and throwing them behind him without a care for where they land, before he spreads you open and takes a leisurely lick through your folds. He can never resist, the sight of you so worked up for him from so little always such a temptation. He licks again, looking up at you with a smirk as you melt further into his sheets. The slippery muscle of his tongue pushes into your slick hole and fucks you gently, tasting every drop of desire you'd had for him - and Andrew.

A final peck to your clit and he's groaning, shifting up the bed to slotting in beside you with a heavy sigh, curving his broader frame against yours. You find his mouth, needing to have him close to you in every way you can, and kiss him, holding his head in your hands as his own finds its way between your legs. Large fingers stroke delicately across your pussy. His own spit makes the soft drag of his fingers effortless as he finds your clit with practiced ease, and swipes gently at the swollen nub.

Your own hands roam, drifting from his face, slyly tracing down his body until you're tucking your fingers into his pants. Only, it's not sly at all, and he's holding back his amusement when he whispers into your mouth, unzipping his pants and pulling them down before settling beside you once more. "S'alright, I got you."

Your hand immediately flies to his cock, stroking across his smooth length, wasting no time in working him back up after it had softened since your antics downstairs. When he's stiffened in your palm, standing up and knocking rigidly against his belly when you let go, you trail your fingers down to his balls. You lightly squeeze, massaging them in your palm, rolling your thumb over the soft flesh.

He groans, closing his eyes as he grabs his own dick in his massive fist, long lashes tickling his cheek. "That's it, stroke Daddy's balls. Gotta get ready to go in that pretty pussy of yours baby."

You lightly drag your nails across his sack as his slowly jerks himself, stiffening further the more you play with him. You revel in the shaky breath your nails draw from him, nuzzling into his chest. The velvety scent of his cologne is faint now, but you breathe deep regardless - the smell of his bare skin and a subtle hint of his sweat was better than any bottled fragrance anyway.

He pulls his hand from between your legs to reach over to his bedside table, pulling out a bottle of lube. Both of you know you're slick enough to take him without it, but the slip of his lubed up dick gliding so easily in and out of you without stretching you with his fingers first was too much to resist.

A sound you love to hear, a soft gasp, leaves his lips when he drizzles some of the cold liquid onto the head his engorged cock, letting you spread it over him with your own fist before nudging you onto your side, forcing you to release your grip.

He is everywhere, surrounding you in every sense. A broad arm tucks under your waist, hugging you tight to his chest with a palm pressed flat between your breasts. His lips are on your cheek, tracing wet biting kisses down your neck. You turn to moan into his pillow just as his other hand snakes its way back between your thighs, pushing the plush flesh aside to rub broad circles over your soaked pussy.

"Gonna take me in now baby, open up for me." Arching your back, you expose your cunt to him from behind as his length ruts against you, lube spreading across your thighs. He fucks between the meat of them, grazing your pussy and nudging into your clit and his own palm with each thrust.

"Don't tease, Daddy," you whine, already so far gone you're ready to plead with him to just fuck you already.

"No teasin' baby, you've been so good for me. Gonna give it straight to you. Here it comes," and he feeds the tip of his cock into you, gently fucking you with his thick head. You push your hips back, slipping more of him into your wet heat, delighting in the feeling the stretch in your cunt and his ragged breath on the back of your neck. Slick dribbles out of you, coating him as he pushes in to the hilt.

"Ohhh, f- mm."

He holds you tighter when you moan, his front flush with your back. You're totally cocooned in his arms as he begins sliding his cock in and out of you with minute thrusts of his hips.

Being cuddled and fucked like this was your favorite. His hands could roam freely, stroking your belly, tugging at your nipples, sticking a finger in your mouth for you to suck on, all whilst his hips gently rocked into you, your pussy coating him, dripping wet slick all over him and making a mess between the two of you the longer it went on. And it could go on. Sometimes he would make you lie here for what felt like hours, talking and watching a movie as he painfully slowly fucked you, keeping himself hard for so long you feared it'd do damage. When he eventually came, it'd be an easy thing, a few quicker thrusts pulling him over the edge and spilling his cum inside you, painting you, filling you so full it'd leak out of you where he had you plugged. You loved those days.

This was not one of those days.

He starts snapping his hips quicker, thrusts still shallow as his fingers start to rub deliberate circles over your clit once again. Remembering your manners you stutter out a quick thank you Daddy when his fingers pick up the pace.

"Can't get enough of your daddy's cock, can you? It's all you want."

You make a noise, somewhere between a groan and a negative. After today you couldn't say it was. You'd seen the way he had looked at you, and the way that Joel had looked at you because of it. Whatever that was, you wanted it, and you were pretty sure Joel did too.

"No? You want other dicks in this pussy?"

Biting into the pillow, you nod, stifling another whine. You'd almost be ashamed that you'd been so obvious with it, flirting too brazenly in front of too many people, but you're too far gone to care.

"Fuck yeah, you do. My baby wants to be filled with so many cocks, don't she? Have 'em fuck you and then you come crawling back to me to kiss it better."

And that's it, that's the thing that sends you over.

"Oh fu-Daddy, D-Daddy, I'm gonna come, I'm gonna come."

His cock slips further into you, stretching you out and dragging against every part of you as his fingers pull an orgasm from your twitching clit.

"That's it. You come thinking about all those cocks that are going to ruin this pretty little hole."

You do. The arms wrapped around you are Joel's, but you imagine the cock buried in you is anyone but. Faceless strangers, acquaintances, colleagues. You want it so badly that when your orgasm finally wanes, you let out a feeble sob, burying your face into the pillow once more.

He holds you tightly to him, grinding into you slow and deep, your pussy sloshing wetly around him with your release.

"It's okay," he coos as you shudder, crowding over you now to nuzzle into your cheek. "Don't hide from me. You're allowed to have a greedy little pussy baby. Daddy doesn't mind."

He cradles you to him, letting his cock rest inside of you as he strokes you all over, coaxing you down from your orgasm. When you come to, unfurling from the ball you'd tucked yourself into, dried streaks from a few unnoticed errant tears on your face, he starts to rock again, peppering your face with kisses. You let out a small laugh, feeling silly now that his words, those words, could make you come that quickly and that hard. But then he blindsides you with an offer you weren't expecting.

"How 'bout we find you someone to play with when Daddy's not around?"

You'd almost approached it before, the two of you dancing around the idea of there being someone else, another body, shared with you or taken separately. Joel had joked about other men fucking you, watching you suck their cocks, but you never knew if he was serious.

"How 'bout Andrew, huh? Bet you'd like his mouth here," he touches your neck, trailing two rough fingers down your torso, stopping at your breasts to tease and pinch your nipples. "And here."

His hands move lower and you close your eyes, imagining Andrew's mouth. You can practically fucking feel it - whisps of well groomed facial hair scratching at your delicate skin. Andrew had been so handsome - suave, funny, interested. You'd noticed how his eyes had been drawn to you, subtle flicks down your body, taking you in, as he tried to maintain an air of politeness, of respect for his boss and his girl. You wish he respected Joel a little less.

Joel's fingers finally meet your clit and you moan. "Here too."

"I'm- f- I'm so close again daddy," you whine, not ready for another one so soon.

"You gonna come on your daddy's cock thinkin' about Andrew filling you up?" You nod frantically, unable to hold back anything any more as your cunt pulses around his stiff length. "You are? Oh fuck, you are."

He's cuddling you again, holding you tight as he snaps his hips into yours. He's breathless when he next speaks to you, whispering filth into your ear.

"You'd look so pretty creamin' around his cock baby, just like you do for Daddy." The moan that leaves your mouth is something next to a cry, ready to sob at the idea of how good it'd feel to have Andrew touch you, to come back and tell Joel all about it, to snuggle into his arms, safe and warm and used.

You're lost in the daydream as Joel fucks you, talking you through it, pulling you deeper into the fantasy. You can't stop it any more, your entire body convulsing as you come yet again, the imagined flick of Andrew's tongue on your over sensitive clit being the thing that finally sends you flying.

"Uhh-A-Andrew."

"Fuck yeah that's it, say his name."

"Andrew, f-yes. Please, Andrew, please."

Joel tenses behind you, gripping you harder around the middle as he can't hold back, barely moving his hips at all. The thought alone had pushed him so close to the edge he's tumbling over it without warning, spurting heavily into your dripping pussy, coating your walls with his cum. "Oh fuck, shit, fuck I'm coming, ohhh fuck."

He holds you tighter for a long while, his cock throbbing and heavy inside you, breathing deeply as his thumbs gently stroke over your skin, soothing you now that your second orgasm had abated.

"Mm, I'm sorry baby. Looks like Daddy made a mess of you quicker than he expected, huh? You're just such a good girl for me." You preen at his praise. Even now you were his good girl, and you loved how wanting another man to fuck you could make him lose control so easily. It's all a dream, it's got to be.

Your vision is still blurred when he turns your head to face him, brushing his nose softly against yours. "Just love how greedy your pussy is, baby. How much you want her filled up."

"I want it, Daddy," you whine pathetically into his mouth. "Want to be filled up." By Andrew.

You didn't need to say the silent part out loud for Joel to know what you wanted. After all, if you wanted something, it was a sure fire bet that Joel Miller already wanted it too.

"I can ask him. If that's what you want," he says it softly, almost a whisper as he caresses the side of your face. His softening cock slips from you, cum gushing out with the release of pressure, flooding your thighs with a wet mix of lube and Joel's cum and your own release as you think of him again.

Him. Joel would ask him for you - the fantasy could become a reality.

"Are you... are you okay with that?" You search his eyes, trying to find any trace of uncertainty there. There's none, just burning hot fire, a need, that courses straight from him into you and back again.

"Wouldn't be offerin' if I weren't, darlin'. Besides," he grins at you. "Good girls get to go on playdates."

"Joel!"

"What?!"

"A playdate? Really?"

"Well, if you don't want it.."

You hit him, hand slapping playfully against his chest and he's suddenly rolling on top of you, growling as he scratches his beard against your neck. It tickles, and your feeble attempts to fight him off are made even weaker by the laugh bubbling in your belly.

Your face hurts from smiling and holding back laughter when he pulls back from the onslaught on your neck. He's marked you, of that you're sure, and of another thing too.

"I want it."

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[annymation]

Reimagining the characters in Wish

(Part 1- Asha)

Hey guys! I don’t really know how to start this, but let’s just say that I… Didn’t like how Disney’s 100th anniversary movie turned out, like at all.

But I can tell there was a lot of unexplored potential beneath this story, that in my opinion felt overly simple and bare bones.

But if you love it, that’s awesome, more power to you, I wish I could’ve loved it too. And I don’t want to rewrite it to show I’m “better than the writers at Disney” because I’m definitely not lol, I have no experience in writing, and I’m sure they put a lot of passion into the project and I respect them for that. But this movie inspired me with ideas for a different story that I think is worth telling.

But I won’t start telling it today, instead, I'll start a series of blogs sharing my ideas for changes in the characters and their stories, after I get some feedback I will start posting more of the story itself.

If you’re interested, then come along!

Asha✨

Personality

- Asha is a 18 year old girl, with a passion for drawing and helping those around her, sometimes even worrying more about helping others than helping herself

- She’s like a big sister to her 7 friends, always being the voice of reason and acting responsible, but not in a bossy way, she’s actually very playful with them

- To the people of Rosas tho, she's seen as kind of a weirdo, for you see, she spends almost every time of the day drawing in her sketchbook

- She practices everyday to become a better artist, and the people of Rosas find this to be very peculiar, after all, why would you take so much effort to perfect a talent when you can simply wait to turn 18 and wish for the king to make you an amazing artist?

- Asha doesn’t mind these comments, although they have made her less willing to share her drawings with others that aren’t her 7 friends

- As the story progresses we see Asha flourish from a shy and introverted girl to a brave woman who after discovering a terrifying secret about the kingdom’s rulers, steps in and inspires others to join her and fight an evil sorcerer king and his alchemist wife (yes, I made Amaya an alchemist, more on that on part 2 when I talk about how I’d change Magnifico and Amaya)

- Some Disney characters that share similarities with her personality wise are: Belle, Tiana, Pocahontas and Esmeralda

Main Traits:

Calm and mature

Determined

Passionate about her interests (drawing, dancing, philosophy and stars)

Helpful and generous

Perceptive and always questioning things around her that no one pays attention to (like why do all the artists only paint the King and Queen?)

Playful

Compassionate

Backstory

Oooh boy I gave this poor girl so much angst, okay let’s go

Asha grew up with her grandfather, her parents both died in a fire when she was just a baby

(this isn’t just to fit the “haha Disney princess has no parents” cliche, there’s plot relevance in this “mysterious fire” that I’ll talk about later)

Growing up with her grandpa, he’d always support her dream to be an artist, like her mother, who was an art teacher

Her mother not only drew really well, but she also was able to create the illusion that her drawings could move, by flipping through the pages of her sketch books

In other words, her mom was an animator

Asha saw this technic her mom used as a form of magic, so she would often tell her grandpa she wanted to “Do magic just like my mom”

Her father was a philosopher (this was established in the actual movie but never explored haha whyyyy), who taught people that working hard to achieve your dreams is not only rewarding, but also essential, because it’s part of the human nature to persevere and fight for what we believe, even if we fail, even if it’s hard, just keep moving forward.

This philosophy may sound very “umm duh” for me and you since we all know and hear everywhere nothing in life comes for free… But that’s not the case in Rosas

In this rewrite the kingdom wasn’t created by Magnifico, but rather the kingdom has existed for many generations, being ruled by different kings before Magnifico who also granted wishes… but I’m getting ahead of myself.

The point is that the culture of just asking the king to give you or make you whatever you want to be has been in this kingdom’s culture since forever, so when Asha’s dad comes out saying “hey! Maybe we should stop just relying on the king to make our dreams come true, right?” He’s actually being quite a revolutionary… and sharing a very dangerous belief to other people…

At this point you might suspect what caused that “mysterious fire”

So, back to Asha, growing up with her grandpa, they shared a lot of happy memories together. Reading her father's books and her mother's art books helped Asha connect with them even tho she never had them in her life.

But as her grandfather grew older, he became senile.

Asha went from being taken care of by her grandpa to being the one who took care of him when she was still around 13 years old, and when she turned 15 her grandfather passed away of old age

Asha went on to live with her best friend Dahlia, the two became like sisters.

Though she managed to move on from the loss of her grandfather, she could never shake the feeling that he died without getting his wish granted... But she had no way to prove that, it was just a feeling

The wish granting system works different in my rewrite, instead of there being a public wish granting ceremony once a month, there would only be a public wish TAKING ceremony, that would work just like in the movie, you turn 18, you go give your wish to the king yada yada yada.

But the wish granting part would work like this: Almost every night the king would release the wishes up in the sky, they would float down like balloons to their respective owners while they sleep, and once they woke up in the morning they'd feel that their wishes were granted, for they would wake up changed.

With this method, there's no way of confirming if someone really got their wish granted or not, unless you went to ask the king.

Asha never did ask the king if he granted her grandfather's wish, but her grandfather would sometimes express how he wasn't feeling completely fulfilled in his life, he felt like there was something... missing.

This feeling of hollowness persisted in him until the very end, no matter how hard Asha tried to help her grandfather, she never knew him as his real self, because he gave part of his soul to the king, the most beautiful part of his soul, his wish.

Asha had no proof that her grandfather didn't get his wish granted, only a gut feeling.

But because of this, Asha wasn't that thrilled to give her own wish to king magnifico, knowing there was the possibility of it never being granted.

Not to mention she didn’t even know what to wish for, “I’m just 18 and you guys expect me to already know what’s my heart’s deepest desire? I’m still figuring that out, all I know is that I wanna draw”

Plus she wanted to follow her father's philosophy and achieve her wish on her own, eventually, when she figured out what her wish even was.

Asha never rebelled against the system tho, she wasn't a confrontational person. She just accepted the people of Rosas preferred to rely on the king's magic, but that just wasn't for her.

However, on her 18 birthday, when it was expected of her to give her wish to the king, she simply said she didn't have a wish, and even if she did she wouldn’t want to hand it over, she wanted to make it come true on her own. This lead to an argument with the king, and after a series of events (that I don't have time to summarize here, but you can find out about it on my rewrite) leads to her finding out a terrible truth about her kingdom. And that's how her story begins.

Design

- I’d keep these braid ornaments that Asha had in the concept art

- Since in my rewrite she’s not that invested in the kingdom of Rosas, I’d remove all the Kingdom of Rosas symbols that are present in her design (there are a LOT of them)

- I’d replace these Rosas insignia with more star and constellations themed symbols, to reflect how Asha believes that the stars are connected to people and they can guide us, just like how her father believed.

Final Thoughts

My intentions with these changes were to give Asha a strong emotional hook, and something that makes her feel relatable.

The emotional hook here is how she spent so much of her life taking care of her grandfather that she kinda never had time to worry about her own desires, that alone can be relatable to caregivers of elderly people that watch their grandparents or even their own parents lose themselves as time passes, and end up worrying more about the person they’re taking care of than themselves.

Asha has this internal emotional conflict where she feels she needs to constantly help others the same way she helped her grandfather, and one of the things she’ll learn as the story progresses is that it’s not selfish of her to want more for HERSELF.

Another thing that would be relatable about Asha is her passion for drawing, and how most people in Rosas would say she’s wasting her time practicing so much when she can just wait until she turns 18 and wish to be amazing at drawing.

She’d never stop believing that taking her time to improve on her talent and trying again and again was worth every second of her time, because let me tell ya folks, drawing is HARD, and animating like Asha’s mom did is even HARDER, it takes a whole lot of practice, and Asha was determined to keep trying.

She’d be much like Belle, remaining true to herself even tho those around her considered her odd, and very passionate about drawing just as much Belle was passionate about reading.

I also find it funny how Asha’s motivations are fairly down to earth, like in Disney movies you usually have:

I want to be free from these palace walls!

I want to explore the ocean!

I want to open a restaurant!

I want to find true love!

And then there’s Asha here like

“My life is fine, I just wanna chill and draw stuff”

And that’s it, but, in her environment where everyone is expected to have this great wish that they have to give to the king so he’ll make it a reality, she’s kinda the odd one out, and I love that. Would be a great subversion of the Disney formula.

Of course after she learns Magnifico and Amaya’s true intentions she gets a lot more agency and the desire to save her people, her “call for adventure” if you will.

But what are Magnifico and Amaya’s true intentions? Click here for part 2 and find out!

Thank You For Reading!

[velvetm00light]

Friendsgiving

gif: pinterest dividers: @benkeibear, @mariariley, @haerinism

Chapter Seven of Save Me

Previous Chapters: one, two, three (y/n), three (spencer), four, five, six

Word Count: 1.8k

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: After a comforting morning cooking a dish for Penelope's Friendsgiving, you finally make it to her apartment to spend time with all of your favorite people.

Warnings: Mostly just references bad, consuming thoughts but nothing too serious :)

A/N: I'm sorry for not posting in a while! I've been writing my own book and I'm in pre-med so I don't normally have much free time. But, I want to at least post on here every so often! So here's a good one (hopefully) for ya'll. :)

YOU SLIP ON your favorite pair of leggings, fuzzy slippers, and Spencer's comfiest crewneck. He peers up at you from tying his shoes and smiles. "You look better in it than I do."

"Good thing I plan on keeping it." You smile.

As soon as he finishes, you follow him out of his bedroom and into the kitchen. You grab the mac and cheese dish you and Spencer had made earlier this morning. "Do you want me to get that?" He asks you.

"I'm a strong girl," you reply. He rolls his eyes playfully and ushers you out the door.

The car ride is short and sweet, he allows you to play whatever songs you want. His hand is placed on your knee, his thumb rubbing soft circles. He giggles at you as you loudly sing songs Spencer never would have listened to on his own. He even asked you to play one again just so he could sing it with you.

When you arrived at Penelope's apartment complex, he turns off his car and looks at you. "If it gets too much or you start to get stressed, just let me know, okay?"

"Thank you, Spence. I think I'll be fine," you reassure. You truly hadn't given yourself the time to think about what happened to you. You pushed all those feelings aside as soon as you woke up in the hospital and refused to touch them with a 10-foot pole. It helped that Spencer kept you busy, kept you safe. You'll spend the night with all your closest friends and feel relieved. You knew any of them would help you carry your burden if you asked.

He gives your knee a reassuring squeeze and hops out of the car. He rushes over to your side before you have a chance to open the door yourself.

"My lady," he bows as he opens the passenger side door.

You gently climb out of the car, careful of the dish in your arms. "My most loyal knight," you smile, mimicking a curtsy like you've seen on TV.

"Lady's don't curtsy to their knights but I'm not complaining."

"Oh, hush, Mr. Knows It All." You would have swatted at his arm but luckily for him, your arms are full.

You hurry up the stairs to Penelope's apartment. But, once you are standing in front of her door, anxiety starts to bubble inside you. You are excited for the rest of the night, but the beginning is what makes you nervous. You knew the team would either bombard you with "are you okay"'s and other comforting words or they wouldn't mention it but would walk on eggshells around you.

Spencer spins you to look at him. "I've got you. You're safe here."

You take a deep breath and try to give him a reassuring smile. "I know."

Spencer lifts his knuckles to knock on Penelope's dull apartment door as you turn back around, steeling yourself for the next few minutes. He only got in a single rapt on the door before it swung open wide, Penelope's red-painted lips drawing up into a bright smile. "You guys came!" She squealed, grabbing the glassware dish covered in tinfoil from your hands.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," you smile, following Penelope to her kitchen island where all of your coworkers are standing around, nursing wine glasses in their hands. A silence falls upon the room, and you quickly break it unable to stand the palpable sympathy in the room. "I'm alive and I don't plan on being babied the entire rest of my life."

"She has been putting up a fight against it," Spencer laughs. The team joins in chuckling, the tension in the air immediately disappearing. JJ takes you by the shoulders and analyzes your face. "I'm glad you're here," she states as she pulls you into a tight momma bear hug. You swear you heard your ribs cracked as she squeezed you.

Your entire team takes turns hugging you and Spencer. You feign annoyance at being treated with such sympathy, but your heart flutters at the overwhelming love your team as for you.

"Who's ready to eat?" Emily asks brightly and immediately your entire team begins to dig into the multiple dishes placed carefully around Penelope's kitchen island. Your mac and cheese sits next to a stuffed turkey, pasta alla vodka which you would bet a million dollars that Rossi brought, and other deliciously smelling meals.

You don't wait to dig in, the days long starvation you suffered only a few days ago has been a consistent hole in your stomach, forcing your body into survival mode whenever you're around food. The choices are overwhelming and you stand frozen in place with a plate in your hand, unsure where to even begin.

"Here, I'll get some for you," Spencer says gently, taking the plate from your hand and pilling some of everything onto your plate.

"Thank you," you whisper. As soon as he finishes, he carries both plates over to Garcia's living room and you follow closely behind. "It was overwhelming."

"I know, I figured it might be easier if I made the decision for you. I also gave you less than you might want because I didn't want you to feel guilty for not eating everything."

Your eyes widen at his statement and he chuckles lightly. "You're not exactly mysterious, y/n," Spencer smiles.

"No one on this team is mysterious," Emily teased. "Everyone knows things they probably shouldn't even know." Everyone laughed and murmured their agreements.

The rest of the team joins you in the living room and everyone is a blur of talking in between bites and even with food in their mouths. Garcia doesn't even take a bite of her food for a few long minutes because she is too busy asking everyone else what kind of holiday movie they're in the mood for.

She finally settles on a silly hallmark movie and you and your team take turns outrageously guessing what will happen.

"I say she goes to this bakery, meets the guy who works there at the counter, and it turns out they're related somehow," JJ explains.

"No, she definitely goes in there, then she talks about how her parents were murdered on Christmas so she hates the holiday, and turns out he murdered them," Derek says, laughter filling the air.

"I'm glad the actual serial killers around the country decided to unite and stop killing for this one day so we could finally enjoy ourselves," Rossi announced. Everyone's head nodded in agreement.

"I miss it," you express, picking at your food.

"Take your time, y/n. There will always be bad guys," Aaron replies, his gaze softer as he looks at you than it has probably ever been in his life.

"I know, I just..it's hard, you know? I miss you guys," you confess. You decide to keep out the fact that you're afraid to be with your own thoughts or to be alone period. You weren't exactly confident in your abilities to deescalate yourself if it were to come to that.

"We miss you too, but it's important to heal," Penelope says softly and you can't help but smile at her contagious optimism.

"I know, I'm going to be upset though if all the extremely bad guys are caught while I'm gone."

"We'll save them just for you," Aaron responds, lifting his wine glass in the air. "I'll let them know as soon as I get home."

You try to enjoy the rest of the night with your friends, every bad thought that appears in your brain you shove into the dark depths where they can't come back out. You try to remind yourself to be happy that you're alive and back with the people who mean the most to you.

As the hours tick by, glasses of wine are drank and refilled, movies are played right after another ends, and the warmth in your heart grows heavier by the minute. You had always ached for friends like this, for nights spent laughing and joking.

Spencer's arm is stretched across the back of the couch behind you, his hand had been restless the entire night, running circles just below the nape of your neck, running a finger down your shoulder on the opposite side, or twirling pieces of your hair in between his fingers. You're unsure if he even knows he's doing it, but either way, you're grateful for the grounding touch. Without Spencer, you fear your thoughts might suck you into yourself so deep you would never see light again.

You allow yourself to think that maybe his touches have been intentional because somehow, he seems to know you better than you know yourself and knows how much you need his touch.

You and your team finally say your goodbyes as your lips feel leaded and threaten to shut on you with no sign of reopening for at least 12 hours.

"Be easy on yourself," Emily whispers as she embraces you in a hug. "Take this time to start a new hobby or something."

"I'll think about it," you smile. Spencer places his hand on the small of your back as you exit Penelope's apartment. You two are silent on the way Spencer's car. Spencer in his true fashion explains to you that you weren't going to drive anywhere this whole next month. You tried your best to tell him you didn't need a chauffeur and he was already doing enough. Plus, he didn't even like to drive. But your protests fell on deaf ears.

"Shhh..just get in the car," Spencer smiled, opening the passenger door for you.

"If you insist," you reply, sliding into the car.

"Play that one song you put on, something about taste?" Spencer said as he climbed into the driver's side.

"Oh my god, you want me to play Sabrina Carpenter?" You giggle, immediately searching for the song. You press play and turn the volume up to as loud as either of you could handle.

As soon as it began playing, you could hardly contain yourself. You were laughing so hard just listening to Spencer yell the words as dramatically as he could. He had to stop singing a couple of times because he was laughing just as hard as you. "Wait, one more time before we get home!"

"Okay, okay!"

Once you get to his apartment, you both can barely get out words you're still laughing at each other. He opens the door for you and you sigh in relief. As soon as he shuts the door behind you, he pulls you in for a hug. "I'm so proud of you."

You smile up at him. Before you can reply, he places a finger below your chin to bring your lips to his.

TAG LIST: @qatiee @dottirose @thisaintredwine @jay-2s-world @ruziazyn @translatemunson @sky2nd @dysphoricsanity @bunbunbl0gs

[milkytheholy1]

Shadow Generations: Part 1

A/N: briefly based on Shadow Generations, this will eventually contain an x GN reader.

"Shadow, wherever you are, I'll always be with you."

There was certainly something strange happening today, at least that's what Shadow thought. Though now thinking back to it, there were definitely some red flags: being invited to Sonic's birthday party was the first one.

It wasn't unheard of that the two hedgehogs sometimes fought, and sure, on the occasion Shadow would help the blue faker out. But to be invited to his birthday party? That was another level of torture Shadow didn't know if he could handle.

The second red flag was receiving a message from G.U.N first thing in the morning, some old tech on the ARK had blipped back online and was sensing some bizarre anomalies. Shadow often dreamt of the ARK, tormenting himself on the ways he could have saved the Professor and Maria.

"You doing alright, Brood-o?" Rouge hummed, a small smirk dancing on her lips. She held some birthday decorations in her hands, Shadow couldn't believe she had actively volunteered to help out.

"Hmpf, I told you to stop calling me that." he hissed, Rouge couldn't help the devilish cackle that fell from her lips. Nodding her head to the G.U.N transponder, she got closer to Shadow so the others couldn't hear, "What's that all about? Do they need us already?"

"No, Towers wants me to head to the ARK."

"The ARK? Haven't they got better things to do than to send us up there?" Rouge didn't often get mad, she got frustrated but never mad. Shadow shrugged his shoulders, "Not we, just me. One of the Professor's computers came back online and started reporting a strange energy, G.U.N wants me to go check it out."

Rouge glared at the hedgehog, of course he wouldn't sit around and wait for the party to start, god forbid he'd actually help them to decorate. Placing one hand on her hip and balancing the decorations in the other, she pulled an expression Shadow had rarely seen from her before: Worry.

"Jus- Just be safe, okay? I know it's...difficult for you up there."

"I'll be fine, Rouge." For once Shadow didn't pretend to be the tough guy, he reassured his friend and she appreciated that. Shadow and Rouge's friendship was a weird one, one minute they'll be at each other's throats and then next they'll be thinking like one.

The time for goodbye quickly ended as Shadow jetted off, ready to start his mission.

--- Time Skip to the ARK ---

The ARK, a place where the world's best scientists were set with the task of curing mankind. A place of innovation and excitement, my first thoughts were here, my first memories. I can only wonder what great things the scientists would have accomplished in time, if not for what happened.

I remember the first time I opened my eyes, my first time seeing the world I was created into. Those blonde locks and big blue eyes were my first introduction to humans.

Maria...

Shadow raced around the familiar route of the ARK, speeding down hallways he would often walk along with her. Before checking the main console where the device lay, Shadow took a detour to the Professor's lab. On the way there he dashed past an all too friendly room. Drawings dawned on every wall, the bed was made neatly like it always was, there were hair brushes and headbands on the desk and a small teddy on her bed.

He couldn't help himself but stare into the darkened space, never stepping foot in there for fear he would never want to leave.

Remember the mission.

Arriving at the Professor's lab, Shadow noted all the torn documents haphazardly strewn across the room, he picked up the first thing he saw, a newspaper clipping torn at the edges:

Professor Gerald Robotnik, lead scientist on the Space Colony: ARK, has once again proved science is the future with new weapons to be sent to American Troops to win the tide of war.

While not much is known about the scientist or his work on the ARK, the United States Government seems impressed by the research and work Robotnik is carrying out.

When asked for the reasoning about the massive space station, Robotnik had this to say: "While science is always a big motivator, my biggest reasoning for the creation of the ARK is to find cures for those who need it, and space is the cleanest and safest place to do so."

It is no surprise that the safest place 'off of Earth' houses Gerald's granddaughter, Maria Robotnik. Not much is known about her condition, but it is safe to say she will be alright and in the best hands of the team of scientists in the Space Colony: ARK.

How foolish he was to think they were untouchable up here, no matter where they were they would have always been targeted. Placing the clipping back down, Shadow turned to the testing tube he once called home. Shuddering at the things he had to endure and suffer, he eventually left and headed to the main console.

The vast expanse of space was almost as scary as its immeasurable scale of beauty, large windows encapsulated the ARK's main sector, and lying in the middle of the room was a large pillar with a yellow shine shimmering in the broken lighting of the ARK.

"It can't be..." Shadow whispered, approaching the object. Pulling out his own chaos emerald he compared it to the one that lay before him, "Tails' fake emerald, we used this last time we came to the ARK. You were very clever, Fox. But it will never compare to the real thing."

Radio static disturbed his momentary peace, "Shadow, Shadow, can you hear me-"

"Rouge? I hear you, I've made it to the ARK, not much has changed since we last paid a visit."

"Did you find -Zstz- the console? What's the -zTsZ- anomaly?" Rouge's voice fizzled in and out. Shadow approached the machine, tapping away though he soon learned the computer was completely inoperational.

"How strange? Rouge, the ARK's computer isn't fully active, I can't access information on this anomaly."

"Do you think it's just a bug?"

Suddenly the left-hand side of the ARK started dissolving into nothingness, Shadow's eyes widened, his grip on the computer loosening. Pulling the radio closer to his mouth he spoke his final words to Rouge, "I found it." Before Rouge could continue, Shadow was ripped away from the console, powerless to do anything to stop himself from falling.

[iamfitzwilliamdarcy]

ok the evolution of Katniss and having kids post:

Katniss is thinking from the earliest moments of the book how she never wants kids. This is Chapter 1, even before the Reaping, when Gale mentions running away, if they didn't have so many kids, obviously here, he's referencing their siblings, but then this exchange happens:

"I never want to have kids," I say. "I might, if we didn't live here," says Gale. "But you do," I say, irritated. "Forget it," he snaps back.

This is literally page 9 in my copy from the library. Katniss has been thinking about how much they provide for their siblings already and she's also just given us exposition on her own parents-- her grief for her father and her resentment of her mother; it's also setting Gale up as a potential romantic partner, which Katniss readily rejects and is confused by the conversation at all (girly, you brought it up)

Again, in the first book, Katniss thinks she will never have children. This is nearing the end of the games-- it's just her and Peeta and Cato left-- and while Peeta sleeps, she lets herself for the first time think about making it home and what her future would be.

I think of Haymitch with all his money. What did his life become? HE lives alone, no wife or children, most of his waking hours drunk. I don't want to end up like that. 'But you won't be alone,"I whisper to myself. I have my mother and Prim. Well, for the time being. And then... I don't want to think about then, when Prim has grown up, my mother passed away. I know I'll never marry, never risk bringing a child into this world. Because if there's one thing being a victor doesn't guarantee, it's your children's safety. My kids' names would go right into the reaping balls with everyone else's. And I swear I'll never let that happen.

I included the long version and not just the part about never marrying, because Katniss recognizes she risks being alone forever. For her, even though it's terrible, it's better than having a child in this world, a world that is so horrific and threatening. She also automatically links marriage to having kids (as is natural), which complicates her relationships with both Gale and Peeta.

Catching Fire starts with a similar vein, but one Katniss now has to confront-- in order to keep those she loves safe, she will have to marry Peeta and live happily ever after with him. She wonders if President Snow will insist on them having babies, thinks it's likely a child of hers will end up in the arena because Victors' children sometimes do and Gale suspects the drawings are rigged. She reflects again on Haymitch's situation --unmarried, no children, wasted all the time-- and likens it to self-imposed solitary confinement.

Later, we get the fake baby drop, of course, and Katniss, processing, thinks "Isn't it the thing I dreaded most about the wedding, about the future-- the loss of my children to the Games? And it could be true now couldn't it? If I hadn't spent my life building up layers of defenses until I recoil at even the suggestion of marriage or a family"

We're still on the same track, the recognition of her fear of having kids in the world she lives in. Interestingly, I think it's still a loss of her children to the Games, but a less painful one-- nonexistent, possible children that she'll never have.

Peeta later is trying to convince Katniss to be the one of them to survive by talking about her family back home, and when he doesn't mention the pregnancy, she knows he's being sincere. He even mentions Gale and Katniss takes it in a way that means he would be okay if she wanted to be with Gale. He transitions back to playing the Games by telling Katniss, "You're going to make a great mother you know."

Katniss then wonders if it could be more than just a Games manipulation-- "Like a reminder to me that I could still one day have kids with Gale? Well, if thatw as it, it was a mistake. Because for one thing, that was never part of my plan."

It's HERE that we get a bit of a kicker-- she thinks about how of the two of them, Peet is the one who should be a parent. And she imagines his children--

As I drift off, I try to imagine that world, somewhere in the future, with no Games, no Capitol. A place like the meadow in the song I sang to Rue as she died. Where Peeta's child could be safe.

I think it's the first time she's considered the possibility of a safe child, and it has to be Peeta's child. This isn't something she ever imagines about anyone else, even when she thinks about running away with Gale.

Children are a sign of hope, of a possibility of living in a world where they won't be sacrificed on the altars of the Capitol. In Mockingjay, Katniss frequently notes that District 13 has very few children, especially following an illness, and that children appear to be prized -- it's partially why it's hard for her to initially accept that the rebels would bomb children- recklessly, wastefully

But it's the epilogue of Mockingjay, where this all culminates-- where her hope finds fruition. She says "Peeta wanted them so badly," but it takes years for her stop dreaming and start trusting that she's made that world, where her children, where Peeta's children "take the words of the song for granted"

It's a perfect ending, because from the start Katniss has denied herself even the hope of children, develops to thinking maybe that it could be possible one day-- for someone as good as Peeta, and that maybe his children could be safe, at least-- and in the end, his children--her own children--are no longer a hope, but Real.