#honestly this could be continued but i was typing for four hours and i have to get up in four and i feel dead

[nerevar-quote-and-star]

This crackship was supposed to be FUNNY but then it got really serious instead?

At least it's sweet. Or at least @elder-dragon-reposes thinks so!

Yo @incorrectskyrimquotes do you want some Leara/Ralof romance/pining?

ao3 | masterlist

She's curled in the corner of the wagon when he first notices her. Dark red hair falls in a curtain over her face, but Ralof thinks he sees the tip of a leaflet ear poking between the fallen strands. An elf, then. He doesn't remember seeing her during the ambush and the skirmish that followed. He wonders how she got there. He wonders why. Was she at the border?

When she wakes, it's signaled by strained shoulders and a near-visible shrinking in on herself. Then Ralof is met with the most startling blue eyes he's ever seen, bright and cold and thick with ice. They sweep his face, then turn to the other occupants of their carriage. At the moment, Ralof swears those eyes hesitate and widen when the elf woman spots Jarl Ulfric, but later, he isn't sure.

"Hey, you. You're finally awake. You were trying to cross the border, right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there."

She stares at him again and is quiet.

She is quiet when the Imperials corral them from the carriages to hear General Tullius's damning talk-down to Jarl Ulfric.

Then, they're in line for the chopping block. Hadvar, damn traitor that he is, is standing there prim as a princess with his quill and parchment, ready to take down the names of the convicted.

Ralof wants to curse him. He cannot.

Then the elf woman is in front of Hadvar..

"Who . . . are you?" "Leara Ormand. I, I'm from Daggerfall." "I'm sorry, miss. We'll make sure your remains are returned to High Rock."

She hangs her head.

This was Imperial justice, Ralof thought. The innocent were condemned just as easily as those who fought for others' freedom. Anything that was inconvenient for the Empire must go.

They execute Snorri first, Talos guard him. Then they call the elf woman, Leara, forward. Her head no longer hangs. She walks forward with the same cool face and straight spine he's seen in other high elves.

Thunder rumbles, not for the first time since this circus began.

She kneels at the block.

All Oblivion breaks loose.

Smoke and screams resonate through the air as fire splits the skies. Visibility is lost. Ralof stumbles to the ground.

Amid the screaming, he hears a word echoing above the den and so penetrating that it chilled his soul.

Dragon.

He stumbles over something—someone. The woman, Leara.

Her hand snatches at his arm, shockingly cold amid the blistering heat.

They drag each other to the tower, making it just before Jarl Ulfric and the others close and bar the door. He turns to ask Jarl Ulfric—Could the legends be true?—and then she is gone like a dart up the stairs.

Ralof doesn't see Leara again until he stumbles into the Keep. She's on the floor, propped against the wall with her face flushed and her hands encrusted in frost. In her hands, she's clutching the hilt of a katana, but where she got it, Ralof doesn't know. Her eyes are closed, and she looks desperately like she's trying to catch her breath. But Ralof knows that soon this room will be swarming with Imperials fleeing the firestorm outside. They needed to go.

Their trip through the keep and its cave network is a blur of exhaustion and bloodshed. Her hands leave a trail of black frosted blood pools in their wake. The katana sings like hissing ice in her hands when they face the Torturer and sleeps just as easily when they agree to sneak past the bear.

He takes Leara to Gerdur. He needs to return to Windhelm as soon as possible, but it is clear as sunlight that Leara has been caught in a bad spot. When Gerdur hears about their escape from Helgen, she is only too willing to help out Ralof's new "friend."

Ralof waves Leara goodbye the morning after they stumble into Gerdur's yard. She is sitting on the porch, her katana beside her, but her face is clean from the ash of their near-death.

"Be well, Ralof!"

She says in farewell.

Ralof grins at her, not quite full, and leaves. And his mind wanders down other paths, away from his harried flight with Leara Ormand.

But he thinks of her again when he's faced with the white-blue ice of the White River biting at the ancient stones of Windhelm. When he returns to the field, he halfway remembers the song of her katana in the whistling of the wind through the pines.

But it is the dragon attack on Whiterun that eventually brings her back to the forefront of his mind. The attack is months after Helgen, but not long enough for the people of Skyrim to forget that a dragon leveled an entire village and stirred the embers of the Civil War into a full blaze with Ulfric Stormcloak's escape from the Imperials. The fighting has just picked up again after the winter lull when the news of the attack spreads like wild . . . dragon fire.

And with that news comes the murmur of Dragonborn. The Greybeards called her.

"Her?" "Some pointy ear. Not a Nord."

It is only when someone mentions that the Dragonborn carries a katana that Ralof knows that she and Leara are the same. It makes for a good story around the campfire when Ralof tells how he and the Dragonborn escaped that first dragon attack. Most don't believe him. Some do.

Then there are those who scoff at the idea of an elf woman being the Nords' hero. It's not long before Ralof finds himself in front of Commander Gonnar for brawling over it.

Commander Gonnar is . . . not impressed.

"Do you think we're out here to brawl like barflies?" "No sir." "No, because we have a job to do, leiutenant, and you can't perform your job when you're out there rolling in the dirt because someone insulted an elf to your face." "She's the Dragonborn, sir." "Well, then, she doesn't need you taking up for her, does she?" "Yes, sir."

Commander Gonnar sends him back to Windhelm soon after that. Less trouble in the camp.

Even in Windhelm, support for the Dragonborn is mixed, especially when Ralof hears about her plans to hold a peace talk at High Hrothgar. He volunteers for Ulfric Stormcloak's guard. The Jarl, at least, doesn't seem to care about What the Dragonborn is, so long as she takes care of Skyrim. That's fair enough, all things considered.

At High Hrothgar, Leara is happy to see him. Ralof is surprised when she catches his hand up in hers, a grin curving her white gold face. She seems happy . . . for someone who then proceeds to manipulate an entire table to agree to her terms while holding everyone else at their starting positions.

Yes, Leara is perfectly fine. Or so Ralof convinces himself, until he finds her in an alcove, sometime after dinner, with her katana in her hands and her face too pale. Her breathing is shallow and she's not seeing.

Ralof is crouched beside her in a moment.

"Leara—" "Elenwen. Elenwen."

Her skin is clammy. Oh.

Ralof holds Leara's hand through the panic attack beating on her. The best he can do is talk to her and rub her shoulder. Eventually, he manages to pry the katana from her death grip. Her hands soon fist in his hauberk. She falls asleep not long after that.

She is apologetic but still thankful afterward. For the first time, Ralof sees the layer of ice in her eyes give way to glimpses of spring waters.

Ralof might not know what happened to Leara, but he knows being a hero hasn't suddenly made her invincible. If anything, it's exacerbated a deeper problem. Problems he doesn't dare to tease out when General Stone-Fist sits down to talk about the Dragonborn as the Stormcloaks make their descent from the Throat of the World.

Months pass before he sees her again, and then it's on the wings of her victory over the World-Eater. She sweeps into WIndhelm and soon Ralof finds himself at the bar with her at Candlehearth Hall. He looks forward to speaking to her again but is nonetheless surprised by her turn in conversation.

"What do you know about the Butcher murders?" "Well . . ."

Ralof can't say he's kept up with the whole drawn-out tragedy, but Leara seems intent on investigating, and he commits to helping her—as much as his duties allow, that is. Later, when she brings the amulet to him with whispered descriptions of a room bathed in sinew and blood, he suggests the court wizard. Ulfric trusts the man, and from what Ralof has heard, Wuunferth seems pretty knowledgeable.

Directing Leara to speak to Wuunferth does not prevent her from being stabbed by the Butcher days later. She takes Calivto Corrium out with her own bloodied ice before collapsing in a shivering heap. She is taken to her room at Candlehearth before Ralof can check in on her. Before he can see that she's okay.

Leara will be okay. Ralof will not.

When Ralof accompanies the guards to clear out the House of Curiosities, he finds the Dibella statue modeled in Leara's likeness: White gold, small, naked, and frigid.

Rage bursts in his chest. He throws it into the wall. On impact, it shatters in a rain of pottery shards, painted and false.

From there, Ralof hurries to Candlehearth. There, he finds Leara propped in a chair; when he enters, she's half-heartedly nibbling an apple tart but, at the sight of him, sets it aside.

"Ralof! Would you like some pastry?"

Her smile is bright, if strained by the lingering pain. She half-raises the plate toward him.

Ralof takes it from her, and setting it on the table, kneels beside her chair. As he does so, he takes the cold hand in his, clasping it between both palms. He bows over her hand in his, his forearms braced against the chair arms.

"Ralof? Are you okay? What's happened?"

But Ralof can't speak. How can he? How can he speak into existence the truth his spirit has been seeking this whole time? He must tell her. He's not a coward, but a brave son of Skyrim! But the words stick in Ralof's throat, even when Leara's other hand comes to card through his hair.

When he leaves, the words are still lodged in his throat. The whole time he doesn't speak, Leara simply strokes his hair, and when he leaves, she offers another smile. Confused, certainly, but soft. Kind.

Ralof is tempted to ask Generals Stone-Fist or Thrice-Pierced to deploy him to a camp in Hjaalmarch or the Reach, but every time, he's driven to stay. All the while, Leara is recovering. Soon, she's back on her feet, and when she mentions leaving Windhelm, Ralof feels as if he'll be sick.

What will she do once she's out there, alone?

She's capable, he reminds himself. Yes, she defeated the World Eater. But then she was nearly murdered by a serial killer. All it took was one mistake. One. And Leara would be, Leara . . .

Leara would be dead.

t's that thought that drives him to Candlehearth again. He's hurrying down the hall toward Leara's room before he realizes Elda is calling him.

"She's gone." "What?" "The Dragonborn, she checked out this morning."

Bile churns in Ralof's gut. She's gone.

Again the Palace of the Kings, Ralof seeks the training yard. Hack. Slash. Stab. Leara left. Slash. Hack. Stab. Leara was alone. Slash. Swipe. Turn. Leara might not come back. Stab. Hack. What if she . . .

No. He was being dramatic.

Ralof is not given long to wallow. General Stone-Fist promotes him to captain and deploys him to the Reach, clear across Skyrim. In the Reach, there's more to worry about than the abstract until proven idea of Leara's present safety. Ralof's, for one thing, and the state of the Stormcloaks campaign in the region, for the greater.

He is in the Reach a month before reports filter out of Markarth about heightened Forsworn activity in the city. The Forsworn were already a pain in the rear out in the hills and crags. Ralof did not look forward to weeding out a potential secondary force when the Stormcloaks marched on Markarth.

Then, a report comes saying there's been a breakout from Cidhna Mine. And that Madanach is alive. Ralof has a bad feeling about this. He's pretty sure Jarl Ulfric will have plenty to say about the situation.

Whatever Ulfric would say is driven from Ralof's mind when a thin figure stumbles into camp. Her hair is wild, her eyes are wild, and in her hands is that same katana.

Ralof is running to Leara to catch her in his arms before her knees even threaten to buckle.

"It's my fault." "Shhh." "Ralof, Ralof, Markarth . . ." "We'll take care of it. Don't worry, Leara."

Soon, she's asleep in the medical tent. Ralof is sitting beside her when Commander Kottir pokes his head in.

"So, that's the one stirring up the fuss in camp." "The Dragonborn, Commander." "That's what I hear."

Commander Kottir nods, grim.

"See that she doesn't die on our hands. We can't afford the talk."

Jaw clenched, Ralof just nods. Leara's hand is in his. Over the cot, he catches the commander's eye. Kottir's eyes linger on the joined hands before slipping from the tent.

When Leara wakes, Ralof learns all the dark details of Leara's ill-fated investigation iin Markarth that turned into her incarceration and eventual jailbreak with the King in Rags and his court.

"I had no idea what I was getting into. It was like a completely different playing field from what I'm used to."

Ralof can't offer much advice, except that when the Stormcloaks take over Markarth, they'd weed out the Forsworn support. Leara's face is drawn, but she squeezes his hand.

When she leaves, she says she's heading for Solitude. Ralof wishes her well, but a feeling of foreboding seeps into his bones. She doesn't say why she's going to Solitude, but there's a particular gleam in her eye that piques him in a certain way.

Without Leara in camp, Ralof's focus goes back to the war. General Stone-Fist comes out west, and Ralof is asked to accompany him to Hjaalmarch. They have their eyes on Fort Snowhawk, but before they get there, an anonymous tip comes in that the Dragonborn is being held by the Thalmor at Northwatch Keep.

When he reads the note, Galmar's face is hard. Ralof is cold.

"We can't leave her there, General." "We might have no choice."

But Ralof can't accept that. He'll go after her by himself. His knapsack is packed and his sword is sharpened when he heads for the edge of camp. Galmar stops him.

"You're not going to Northwatch alone." "Respectfully, General, but I am. I can't just leave Leara with the Thalmor when I can do something about it." "No, Captain, you're not going alone." "But sir—" "We'll be leading a raid on the fortress."

The Stormcloak attack on Northwatch is swift and pointed. The Thalmor wizards are difficult, but they're no contest when met in the tight melee range of the halls. General Stone-Fist's battlecry rings off the stonework, rallying the rebels. This is not like their plans for Snowhawk. They weren't trying to hold the fort. Raid, disrupt, and devastate, however? Doable.

Throughout the raid, Ralof felt at turns cold and furious. Leara is here somewhere, he thinks as he leads a group down into the dungeons.

The scent of blood and bile burns his nose. Ralof pushes forward until, rounding a corner, he runs headlong into a tall golden-haired Altmer. Lightning sizzles on her fingers, burning the air and setting Ralof's teeth on edge even as he thrusts his sword deep into her stomach.

Blood curdles out of her mouth as Ralof pushes passed her into the cell beyond. There.

Her head lulled to the side and eyes heavy, Leara is strapped to the wrack, her thin arms stretched skeletal over her head. In her mouth is a heavy gag, tied tight to prevent her from using the Thu'um. Ralof is at her side in an instant, making quick work of the bindings. He pulls the gag from her mouth, tossing it to the side. Behind him, one of the battlemaidens drops to her knees, checking Leara's throat and wrists.

"Captain." "How is she, Tilda?" "Sir, I don't think—"

But Ralof has Leara in his arms, her head falling against his shoulder. She's not heavy at all. They were starving her. Feeding meant removing the gag, risking the Voice. She wasn't this light in the Reach. They starved her.

He hugs her tighter to his chest, and hurries from the keep, Tilda and another soldier on his heels.

That night, after setting fire to the keep, Galmar meets him in the field healer's tent. It's even less equipped than what they have at one of their permanent campsites, and Ralof fears it won't be enough.

Leara is incredibly small and broken under the blankets. New golden scars peak from under the collar of her waif-thin shirt, tracing the path of her veins. Sitting by her bedside, Ralof has held her hand since Tilda finished examing her, the battlemaiden's face grey. The chill in Leara's hand is different now. Unsettling. He can feel the weight of Galmar's eyes on him.

"Tilda told me." "Oh." "If she wakes, she may not be the same."

Galmar cut himself off, but Ralof didn't pay attention. His focus was centered on the slight rise and fall of Leara's chest as she breathed. Every breath was shallow, and none of them restful.

"Listen, Ralof. When the time comes, if you need to take some time and go back home for a few weeks, not a man amung us would begrudge you that."

His throat thick, Ralof only nods.

With Leara in the condition she was in, it was risky to move her, but staying meant her death. The Stormcloaks were caught in a delicate situation, especially considering that they were still in Imperial territory.

"I can give you two days."

Ralof heard Galmar say to Tilda. The battlemaiden nodded. She worked diligently with Leara, praying to Talos, Mara, and Kyne for healing while attempting to work her own arts. Ralof prayed too, though his prayers beseeched Akatosh second only to Talos. But he also prayed to Arkay, begging for the tenuous thread of Leara's life to be strengthened.

One day elapsed. The second one drew toward its close.

There was no change. Within the last hours, Ralof sat on his knees, her hand in his and clasped against his forehead as he leaned into her cot. Ralof's chest ached.

One of the soldiers appeared at the tent flap, but Ralof didn't look up.

"Captain, General's ordered the camp to pack up and head out." "Thank you, Jorvar."

Then it was Tilda's hand on his shoulder.

"Come, Ralof. We must wrap her up and get her on a horse. We've given her as much rest as we can." "She's not strong enough." "Perhaps not, but we have to trust in the Divines that she may be."

His mouth in a line, Ralof simply nodded. Sighing, Tilda turned to finish packing the medical supplies they'd brought from the Haafingar camp.

A tear stung his eyes, followed by another. They weren't the first he'd shed over her, but the fear and despair were beginning to gnaw deeper into his spirit. With trembling lips, Ralof dotted a kiss on Leara's palm, then her knuckles, and the pads of each finger. At last, he drew the thin hand to lay flat on his heart.

Please.

Leara remains stable on the trip to the Haafingar camp, wrapped in blankets and nestled in the bottom of their one wagon. Tilda keeps vigil at her head. Beside the wagon, Ralof rides on horseback, his sword and Leara's katana sheathed at his side.

They make it to the camp, and Tilda is able to administer different medicines that she did not have before. Some color returns to Leara's face, but she still breathes shallowly. Soon, Tilda grows adamant that they must take her to Whiterun, to the Temple of Kynareth. Galmar, while seeing reason in some of Tilda's arguments, is quick to remind the battlemaiden that Whiterun is not their ally. The Stormcloaks cannot step foot in the city. Tilda insists that they can under certain terms.

In the midst of them, Ralof keeps praying that perhaps Leara would at least open her eyes. One last time. During these times, he often falls asleep, his head by her arm on the cot.

It is one of these times that Ralof fell asleep that he thought he woke up. Really, he was sure in the moment that he had, but afterward could never be totally sure. As he lay in half-sleep, he watched a man with golden skin and blue-fire eyes slip into the tent. As he approached, his feet made no noise.

The man's hand passed unfelt (and yet felt) over Ralof's head before landing on Leara's arm. As if entranced, Ralof watched the man remove Leara's hand from his grip and tuck it over her stomach.

"Oh, little one."

For the rest of his life, Ralof could never remember what happened afterward. One minute he was half watching the stranger pass the backs of his fingers over and over Leara's sallow cheek, and then the next, well. The next moment Ralof knew on waking was Leara's fingers carding through his hair. He stirred, and then stared.

From her pillow, Leara was smiling at him. It was a slight smile, still touched with pain, but it was alive because she was awake and she was here.

Ralof met the summer lake warmth of Leara's eyes. And he knew. He clasped her hand in his, and once more began to kiss it. Leara laughed, small and tired, but awake and alive. So very much alive!

He grinned at her.

"I love you." "I know."

Her voice was worn, tired, and fracturing, but so soft and relieved. Hopeful. He pressed a lingering kiss to the inside of Leara's wrist. Yes, he loved her very much, and he would tell her so every day for the rest of their lives.

fin

[archaeren]

How I learned to write smarter, not harder

(aka, how to write when you're hella ADHD lol)

A reader commented on my current long fic asking how I write so well. I replied with an essay of my honestly pretty non-standard writing advice (that they probably didn't actually want lol) Now I'm gonna share it with you guys and hopefully there's a few of you out there who will benefit from my past mistakes and find some useful advice in here. XD Since I started doing this stuff, which are all pretty easy changes to absorb into your process if you want to try them, I now almost never get writer's block.

The text of the original reply is indented, and I've added some additional commentary to expand upon and clarify some of the concepts.

As for writing well, I usually attribute it to the fact that I spent roughly four years in my late teens/early 20s writing text roleplay with a friend for hours every single day. Aside from the constant practice that provided, having a live audience immediately reacting to everything I wrote made me think a lot about how to make as many sentences as possible have maximum impact so that I could get that kind of fun reaction. (Which is another reason why comments like yours are so valuable to fanfic writers! <3) The other factors that have improved my writing are thus: 1. Writing nonlinearly. I used to write a whole story in order, from the first sentence onward. If there was a part I was excited to write, I slogged through everything to get there, thinking that it would be my reward once I finished everything that led up to that. It never worked. XD It was miserable. By the time I got to the part I wanted to write, I had beaten the scene to death in my head imagining all the ways I could write it, and it a) no longer interested me and b) could not live up to my expectations because I couldn't remember all my ideas I'd had for writing it. The scene came out mediocre and so did everything leading up to it. Since then, I learned through working on VN writing (I co-own a game studio and we have some visual novels that I write for) that I don't have to write linearly. If I'm inspired to write a scene, I just write it immediately. It usually comes out pretty good even in a first draft! But then I also have it for if I get more ideas for that scene later, and I can just edit them in. The scenes come out MUCH stronger because of this. And you know what else I discovered? Those scenes I slogged through before weren't scenes I had no inspiration for, I just didn't have any inspiration for them in that moment! I can't tell you how many times there was a scene I had no interest in writing, and then a week later I'd get struck by the perfect inspiration for it! Those are scenes I would have done a very mediocre job on, and now they can be some of the most powerful scenes because I gave them time to marinate. Inspiration isn't always linear, so writing doesn't have to be either!

Some people are the type that joyfully write linearly. I have a friend like this--she picks up the characters and just continues playing out the next scene. Her story progresses through the entire day-by-day lives of the characters; it never timeskips more than a few hours. She started writing and posting just eight months ago, she's about an eighth of the way through her planned fic timeline, and the content she has so far posted to AO3 for it is already 450,000 words long. But most of us are normal humans. We're not, for the most part, wired to create linearly. We consume linearly, we experience linearly, so we assume we must also create linearly. But actually, a lot of us really suffer from trying to force ourselves to create this way, and we might not even realize it. If you're the kind of person who thinks you need to carrot-on-a-stick yourself into writing by saving the fun part for when you finally write everything that happens before it: Stop. You're probably not a linear writer. You're making yourself suffer for no reason and your writing is probably suffering for it. At least give nonlinear writing a try before you assume you can't write if you're not baiting or forcing yourself into it!! Remember: Writing is fun. You do this because it's fun, because it's your hobby. If you're miserable 80% of the time you're doing it, you're probably doing it wrong!

2. Rereading my own work. I used to hate reading my own work. I wouldn't even edit it usually. I would write it and slap it online and try not to look at it again. XD Writing nonlinearly forced me to start rereading because I needed to make sure scenes connected together naturally and it also made it easier to get into the headspace of the story to keep writing and fill in the blanks and get new inspiration. Doing this built the editing process into my writing process--I would read a scene to get back in the headspace, dislike what I had written, and just clean it up on the fly. I still never ever sit down to 'edit' my work. I just reread it to prep for writing and it ends up editing itself. Many many scenes in this fic I have read probably a dozen times or more! (And now, I can actually reread my own work for enjoyment!) Another thing I found from doing this that it became easy to see patterns and themes in my work and strengthen them. Foreshadowing became easy. Setting up for jokes or plot points became easy. I didn't have to plan out my story in advance or write an outline, because the scenes themselves because a sort of living outline on their own. (Yes, despite all the foreshadowing and recurring thematic elements and secret hidden meanings sprinkled throughout this story, it actually never had an outline or a plan for any of that. It's all a natural byproduct of writing nonlinearly and rereading.)

Unpopular writing opinion time: You don't need to make a detailed outline.

Some people thrive on having an outline and planning out every detail before they sit down to write. But I know for a lot of us, we don't know how to write an outline or how to use it once we've written it. The idea of making one is daunting, and the advice that it's the only way to write or beat writer's block is demoralizing. So let me explain how I approach "outlining" which isn't really outlining at all.

I write in a Notion table, where every scene is a separate table entry and the scene is written in the page inside that entry. I do this because it makes writing nonlinearly VASTLY more intuitive and straightforward than writing in a single document. (If you're familiar with Notion, this probably makes perfect sense to you. If you're not, imagine something a little like a more contained Google Sheets, but every row has a title cell that opens into a unique Google Doc when you click on it. And it's not as slow and clunky as the Google suite lol) (Edit from the future: I answered an ask with more explanation on how I use Notion for non-linear writing here.) When I sit down to begin a new fic idea, I make a quick entry in the table for every scene I already know I'll want or need, with the entries titled with a couple words or a sentence that describes what will be in that scene so I'll remember it later. Basically, it's the most absolute bare-bones skeleton of what I vaguely know will probably happen in the story.

Then I start writing, wherever I want in the list. As I write, ideas for new scenes and new connections and themes will emerge over time, and I'll just slot them in between the original entries wherever they naturally fit, rearranging as necessary, so that I won't forget about them later when I'm ready to write them. As an example, my current long fic started with a list of roughly 35 scenes that I knew I wanted or needed, for a fic that will probably be around 100k words (which I didn't know at the time haha). As of this writing, it has expanded to 129 scenes. And since I write them directly in the page entries for the table, the fic is actually its own outline, without any additional effort on my part. As I said in the comment reply--a living outline!

This also made it easier to let go of the notion that I had to write something exactly right the first time. (People always say you should do this, but how many of us do? It's harder than it sounds! I didn't want to commit to editing later! I didn't want to reread my work! XD) I know I'm going to edit it naturally anyway, so I can feel okay giving myself permission to just write it approximately right and I can fix it later. And what I found from that was that sometimes what I believed was kind of meh when I wrote it was actually totally fine when I read it later! Sometimes the internal critic is actually wrong. 3. Marinating in the headspace of the story. For the first two months I worked on [fic], I did not consume any media other than [fandom the fic is in]. I didn't watch, read, or play anything else. Not even mobile games. (And there wasn't really much fan content for [fandom] to consume either. Still isn't, really. XD) This basically forced me to treat writing my story as my only source of entertainment, and kept me from getting distracted or inspired to write other ideas and abandon this one.

As an aside, I don't think this is a necessary step for writing, but if you really want to be productive in a short burst, I do highly recommend going on a media consumption hiatus. Not forever, obviously! Consuming media is a valuable tool for new inspiration, and reading other's work (both good and bad, as long as you think critically to identify the differences!) is an invaluable resource for improving your writing.

When I write, I usually lay down, close my eyes, and play the scene I'm interested in writing in my head. I even take a ten-minute nap now and then during this process. (I find being in a state of partial drowsiness, but not outright sleepiness, makes writing easier and better. Sleep helps the brain process and make connections!) Then I roll over to the laptop next to me and type up whatever I felt like worked for the scene. This may mean I write half a sentence at a time between intervals of closed-eye-time XD

People always say if you're stuck, you need to outline.

What they actually mean by that (whether they realize it or not) is that if you're stuck, you need to brainstorm. You need to marinate. You don't need to plan what you're doing, you just need to give yourself time to think about it!

What's another framing for brainstorming for your fic? Fantasizing about it! Planning is work, but fantasizing isn't.

You're already fantasizing about it, right? That's why you're writing it. Just direct that effort toward the scenes you're trying to write next! Close your eyes, lay back, and fantasize what the characters do and how they react.

And then quickly note down your inspirations so you don't forget, haha.

And if a scene is so boring to you that even fantasizing about it sucks--it's probably a bad scene.

If it's boring to write, it's going to be boring to read. Ask yourself why you wanted that scene. Is it even necessary? Can you cut it? Can you replace it with a different scene that serves the same purpose but approaches the problem from a different angle? If you can't remove the troublesome scene, what can you change about it that would make it interesting or exciting for you to write?

And I can't write sitting up to save my damn life. It's like my brain just stops working if I have to sit in a chair and stare at a computer screen. I need to be able to lie down, even if I don't use it! Talking walks and swinging in a hammock are also fantastic places to get scene ideas worked out, because the rhythmic motion also helps our brain process. It's just a little harder to work on a laptop in those scenarios. XD

In conclusion: Writing nonlinearly is an amazing tool for kicking writer's block to the curb. There's almost always some scene you'll want to write. If there isn't, you need to re-read or marinate.

Or you need to use the bathroom, eat something, or sleep. XD Seriously, if you're that stuck, assess your current physical condition. You might just be unable to focus because you're uncomfortable and you haven't realized it yet.

Anyway! I hope that was helpful, or at least interesting! XD Sorry again for the text wall. (I think this is the longest comment reply I've ever written!)

And same to you guys on tumblr--I hope this was helpful or at least interesting. XD Reblogs appreciated if so! (Maybe it'll help someone else!)

[welikeimagines-andfandoms]

Secret Conversation- Thranduil x Human!Reader

Summary: Bard brings his Sindarin speaking friend when going to talk to Thranduil and Thranduil decides to flirt with her

Word count: 1, 352

A/N: italics is spoken in Sindarin

Though you hadn’t known Bard for very long, only looking after his kids for the past four months, when he told you of his meeting with Thranduil, you had insisted on joining him. You didn’t tell many people, but you did know Sindarin and you believed you’d be a good asset to your new friend.

Even though you stood beside Bard and he acted as a buffer between you and the famed king of the woodland realm, it was difficult to not feel intimidated. Even in such a simple throne in a cloth tent, he still held such power and grace to him, so much so that it was hard to take your eyes from him.

Honestly, you could have stared at the king for hours, but you decided that standing beside Bard and trying to not draw much attention to yourself was the best course of action. Unfortunately however, your wandering looks still managed to catch the attention of the elvish king, and his gaze often caught yours.

Trying your best to stay out of the way as you stood beside your friend, a guard came in to give word to Thranduil.

“What are they saying?” Bard gently asked you, not realising that the elves would definitely be able to hear him, though the whisper was extremely quiet.

“He’s just keeping Thranduil informed of the guard change, and that the number of guards will be increasing now that the sun is lower.” You whisper back as quietly as possible, although you knew he’d hear you.

Thranduil obviously heard your response and it intrigued him. As the kings gaze flicked over to the two of you, Bard stood straighter and your eyes fell to the floor. Though you did not look at him, you could tell Thranduils eyes were watching you intently.

Desperately you kept your gaze on the ground, hoping your knowledge of his language would not get you or Bard into trouble.

“So that is why you brought her along, because she knows of our language. Is that right, girl?” Thranduil teasingly enquires.

“Ye-yes.” You nervously whisper, as your eyes slowly rise to meet Thranduils enchanting stare.

“Interesting. How is it you know our tongue?” Thranduil continues to interrogate, appearing both intimidating and alluring as he looks you over while he talks.

“M-my mother was a linguist. She studied many languages and often acted as a translator for political matters. She shared her love of language and reading with me.” You timidly admit, the thought of your mother helping you to feel less intimidated before such a powerful king.

“She sounds like a very interesting woman.” Thranduil says, offering you a gentle smile, which you give him in return.

“Now I do have questions for your ears alone.” The king asks now in his own tongue, obviously not wanting Bard to hear.

Bard knows this is Thranduils intent and turns to you, worried about what he might have said. You give Bard a reassuring smile and look back to Thranduil.

“What is it you’d like to know?” You reply in his own language.

Hearing you speak Sindarin makes his eyes shine and a cheeky smile to appear on his face as he sits up straighter. Thranduil liked the way you sounded when you spoke in his own tongue. You sounded so enchanting and his fascination for you seemed to grow.

“Do you live with him?” Quickly came Thranduils first question, of what you’d assumed would be many.

“No, I simply care for his children when he is away working.”

Confirmation that Bard and yourself were not together seemed to interest him even more, as he now uncrossed his legs and positioned his body to face you more.

“Such a pretty young thing taking care of another man’s children. Surely you have wondered how it would feel to take on more wifely duties for him. Though he’s not my type, he seems to be the most handsome and intelligent man among your townsfolk. Has a thought not crossed your mind as to how he could make you feel? How his experienced hands may bring you pleasure?” Thranduils enchanting eyes bore into your own, as if he was looking into your very soul, pinning you to your spot.

Bard could sense that Thranduil was trying to intimidate you and put a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

“We can leave if you like.” Bard kindly whispered in your ear, the comment making Thranduils grin grow.

You’d have to be blind to not be attracted to Thranduil and you were not one to back down from a challenge. You wanted to see how far he would go with this game, and honestly, you might have your own fun flirting back with the elvish king.

“Would you like that? Like to leave with him? Well not with him, he would still not warm your bed or draw pleasure from you in the way you desire.”

A slight smirk of your own played on your lips as you saw your opening to meet his challenge. What Thranduil was saying wasn’t necessarily wrong, of course you’d thought of Bard in such a way, but they were more fleeting thoughts of fancy than they were actual desires. The woodland king however? He was beginning to fill you with desires.

“What if I chose to stay here? Would you fulfil my desires, Thranduil?” The kings body erupted as he heard you speak his name.

“I have only slept with the race of men. Tell me, would a night with you bring greater pleasure than what a man could provide?” You meet his challenge in a way he was not expecting. He smirked and looked down as he saw the way you held onto Bards forearm, pretending it was for courage, but both you and the king knew it was to tease him.

“Oh you sweet girl. I have lived more lives than all the men you’ve had combined. I could draw pleasure from you that you had never thought possible. Why if your friend wasn’t standing there, I’d taking you right now in this tent. I’d want to be slow with you, give you your pleasure again and again, but with the way you tease me, I think I might have to take a different approach.” Thranduils flirting continues, though his voice is kept neutral as to not draw too much attention to what you both were really talking about.

“And what approach would that be, your highness?” You meet his challenge, his formal title making the fires inside him grow.

“A more assertive one. Where I rip your blouse down the middle so I can see more of what I know is a beautiful body, and so I can bite and kiss and lick more of your skin. I can be a very tolerable and patient elf, but you have made me desperate. I would push you against the table and take you from behind. I’d have you in a way no man ever has before, but that would be just the beginning of our night. If you don’t leave with him, I will have you in every way there is to have a lover, for as long as your human body can take.”

By the time Thranduil had finished talking, your body was on fire, and you were about ready to pounce on him right here and now, but you knew you had to keep a calm disposition with Bard still standing beside you.

Turning to your friend, you keep your eyes serious as you look to him.

“Go back to the children, I need to discuss some things with Thranduil. I’m not sure how long I’ll be but I’ll find you in the morning. I’ll be okay.” You sweetly explain to your friend, covering any suspicion of ulterior motive.

Bard turned to look at Thranduil, giving him a warning look, before turning back to you.

“Okay, be safe and I’ll be keeping an eye out for your return.” Bard sweetly smiled at you, before leaving the tent.

Turning to Thranduil, you both wore matching devilish smirks.

[brenwritesss]

Talent part 3

Paige Bueckers x reader

Summary: You continue texting Paige after she sends you flowers.

a/n: we are getting to them meeting, slowly but surely. Short chapter but I promise part 4 will be longer. Trust.

The flowers were sitting on your coffee table in front of your couch and every time you looked at them, your heart beat sped up and your face grew hot. It took you weeks of constant begging just to get your ex-girlfriend to give you a simple, small bouquet of tulips. Yet here you were, staring at your favorite flowers looking beautiful on your coffee table, given to you by someone you had just met a few hours ago. But there was a part of you that knew not to fall too deep too fast. Because this was exactly how it happened last time, and you didn’t know if you could recover from getting hurt by another girl again.

The smart thing to do would just be to give Paige a simple ‘thanks’. However, what you wanted to do was buy a plane ticket and pounce on her the second you see her. You chose the smart option. You pull your phone off your charger, finding Paige’s instagram account and sending her a quick message, “thanks for the flowers.”

About twenty minutes later, you heard a notification ping off your phone and you knew exactly who it was which caused the butterflies in your stomach to multiply instantly. 

“You like them?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

Okay, so this is the part where you play smart and leave her on read. We’re leaving Paige on read. You place your phone on the coffee table by the flowers. And even though you knew that you shouldn’t continue the conversation, everything in you itched with hope that she would text you again.

And your prayers were answered.

“You can’t leave me on read after I just bought you flowers.”

You were fucked. Absolutely fucked.

“You’re right.”

“There we go, that's a start.”

“You can’t just get me flowers after only talking for a few hours.”

“Why?”

“How’d you get my address?” This question hadn’t popped into your brain until you realized that you had indeed just met her on a livestream not even twenty four hours ago.

“I got a confession to make.”

“Oh god what.” Was this gonna be the part where she confesses to secretly stalking you for years? You honestly didn’t know.

“Your best friend, Madison, we close.” Your jaw dropped a little. Madison, your best friend who you had met at an award show years ago, had never mentioned being close with a girl who was exactly your type. What a friend.

“You know Madison?”

“Yeah we met at some event a while back and I texted her asking for your address and she gave it to me.”

Very interesting.

“You were that committed? To sending me flowers?”

“Damn fucking right.”

This is so fucking dangerous. Y/n, you know better. What the hell are you doing? Put the damn phone down and go shower, eat, watch a movie. Or go back to sleep. But she’s so damn cute. And sweet. And flirty, And…no don’t even go there.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

You saw those three little dots appear and then disappear. Finally, they reappeared a few seconds later. “I told you I’d show you how beautiful you are and I’ll send you flowers everyday to prove it.”

“Please don’t do that.”

“Did I make you uncomfortable? I really hope I didn’t.”

“No, it doesn't make me uncomfortable at all. I just don’t understand why you’re so dedicated when we just met.”

“Honestly? I’m trying to figure it out bc it’s not a fucking secret that you’re my celebrity crush and I fucking like you.”

“Definitely not a secret.”

“And I can tell you’re like trying to push me away.”

“You make it really hard to do that.”

“Don’t push me away. You’re like the first girl I’ve been this invested in this quickly.”

Your body practically shuddered at her words and those familiar feelings of butterflies began to stir deep within you. Everything about Paige seemed to be too perfect, as if something was gonna go wrong or she was gonna say something wrong. Before you had the chance to respond, Paige texts you again.

“I wanna see you, princess.”

“See me?”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Of course you were nervous about meeting her in person. Who wouldn’t be?

Paige’s text came back within two seconds. “Scared you’re gonna like me?”

“Never said that.”

“I’ll see you in Hartford, princess.”

[jwanniie]

bratty reader riding gp gamer hanni while playing and hanni continue it on bed 🫦😩

Pairings: gamer g!p hanni x fem reader!!

Warning: unprotected sex (don’t be silly wrap your Willy!), reader rides Hanni, Hanni plays with random people, they get caught, not proofread and smuttttt!!!!

Jwans note: this turned out a bit too fluffy for my liking🫣🫠

When I previously said that Hanni is such a sweetheart on daily basis, that all disappears when she is gaming. She’d be so cocky and smug, probably even overconfident.

Because all of the frustration that the game put her through will probably go out on you, and the fact that Hanni won’t stop playing till she achieves her own satisfaction of winning the game. (Girlie is competitive😮‍💨)

You have been missing your girlfriend Hanni the whole day, but she has her head buried in whatever fighting game she plays and she doesn’t seem to put an end to it.

The constant huffs and scoffs ringing in your ears and the aura of the room, cold and tensed. Was she punishing you for acting all bratty and petty yesterday? Yesterday you were in the mood to tease and kinda be “playful” with her but she probably took it to heart. You are going to make it up for her!!

When the craving for her was unbearable you just decided to go and have her. She was in the same position and place that you saw her being in three hours ago, headset on, and slender fingers aggressively tapping the keyboard. The only new thing was that her hair was now disheveled due to the headset being too long on.

You stepped inside the room nervously,but not showing it, she gave you a quick glance before going back to typing whatever she was typing. You went placing your legs on each side of her hips, straddling her. Now facing her.

She placed her head on one of your shoulders while continuing the game. You rolled your eyes at the unbothered act of her. You slowly started grinding your hips on her clothed length. She shot you a quick glare but didn’t say much. You smirked at her reaction and started quickening your movements. Her boner now poking out. Your clothed heat on top of it.

Her other Hand left the keyboard and slid around your waist keeping you pressed on the now visible tent a little longer. She let out a low hiss, continuing playing the game.

You gave a little smirk, unzipping her pants. She looked down at you, yanking your hand away. You honestly don’t care, you unbuttoned then again unzipped her pants, but this time she didn’t give a reaction.

You took her cock out, and discarded your shorts. You saw how she bit her inner cheek, trying to prison any sound that was about to come out. You gave her length few strokes before sinking down on it. The stiff length twitched few times. When you adjusted your her, you slowly set up a steady pace, enjoyable for the both of you.

Her moans immediately got louder, you could hear the people she is gaming with.

“Hanni what’s wrong?” One of the gamers asked. She didn’t answer just continued shooting the guy in front of her. You smirked at the question, your moans got more high pitched, her cock still sliding in and out of your wetness. Hanni gave you another glare, you grabbed the small microphone in her headset and gave them a loud whimper.

They all laughed and understood what’s happening.

“Ok dude, seems like you are kinda busy now, let’s play tomorrow.” They gave a quick teasing laugh and the video call ended. Her computer turning off. She let out a loud husky growl.

Her nails now gripped your waist,lifting you up. Your legs wrapped around her waist, and hands around her neck. Her cock was impressively still inside your hole.

She laid you down on the bed, both her hands on the upper of your back, gripping gently but enough to leave nail marks.

“I got enough of your teasing, princess.” She furrowed her brows, her reaction made small tingles approach your lower abdomen. The new side of her just making you wait in anticipation.

She deprived you from her cock, flipping you onto all fours. Your ass on the level of her pelvis. Her mushroom tip, constantly sliding inside just to pull out again. You let out loud whines, the only thing running in your head is just to get fucked dumb on her dick.

A dirty chuckle fell from her lips, with one motion. She slowly went past your gummy walls, her tip carving it way inside. Due to your wetness and how you were waiting for her cock, when she slid in It didn’t hurt. Pleasure kicking in effectively.

Hanni smashed her lips against yours, her tongue immediately invading your lips. Her hips snapped back at yours, her tongue dancing with yours. You grabbed a fistful of her hair for support. Pleasure was filling your senses, and your mind was hazy, filled with nothing but satisfaction.

Now that the pleasure that you’ve been deprived of came, you instantly felt your high building up. It wasn’t one sided, she felt the same. Her balls begging to get to release the thick fluid inside them.

The s of the room getting to hear all of your sweet noises, that were like music to Hannis ears. Last time when her hips snapped against yours you felt, you felt your high. Her tip shoot ropes of cum inside you, filling you up to the fullest.

“That was so good baby!!” She kissed the top of your head. Engulfing you in her embrace, her hot breath fanning over your neck. You tried to steady your breathing, your climax hitting you hard. Unconsciously your lids started to feel heavy and you fell into deep slumber.

[hunn1e-bunn1e]

Dorm Heads - Sinbad (MAGI) Male Reader

🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.

Sinbad has seven Djinn Equips and there just so happen to be seven characters in this ask, so I sorted each one to whomever fits it the best. The Reader is still from another world, but this time they're from MAGI as the king of Sindria. I hope this is adequate to what you wanted. —Benny🐰

                                                                                                   

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🌹 Please have mercy, Riddle doesn't know how to handle flirting at all! Seriously, stop that! Don't corner him against the wall and lean over him like that! Don't hold his chin between your fingers and lift his head that way! Don't whisper in his ear all sensual-like! Are you trying to kill him!? Really; Riddle might just explode if you continue like this, going by the steam that keeps billowing from his ears. He's never been the object of affection of such a handsome man before; it's flattering and overwhelming at the same time.

🌹 You're a king? You!? But you're so irresponsible; with the way you quite literally run from him every time he tries to make you do your homework. Riddle honestly thought you were lying at first but after seeing how diplomatic you were during the unbirthday party, he actually started to believe it. He later witnesses that when you do your work, you stay holed up in your room until it's completed to perfection. Oftentimes, Riddle will go to you for advice on how to be a better leader for the students of Heartslabyul.

🌹 A gift, for him? Riddle is a little flustered, he's not too used to people getting him things out of the kindness of their heart; it's usually fear that marks the occasion. But what did you get him? Show him, he hates surprises— WHAT THE HELL!? Where in the world did you get this!? How much did this cost you!? What do you mean 'it was only half a billion'!? Congratulations, Riddle is now malfunctioning; he's stuck between being flattered that you'd spend that much money on him and being furious that you didn't use it for something more important.

🌹 Excessive jewelry and other accessories are strictly forbidden; such things could become a distraction to yourself and other students! Wait! Those are weapons!? That's even worse! Riddle is losing his mind with you, right now! You can't bring weapons into a school environment, such things are against the law! He'll have to confiscate them. Unfortunately, Riddle's unique magic doesn't seem to work on you for some reason; so his efforts are always in vain.

🌹 Riddle has his first encounter with your Furfur Djinn Equip when you sapped the light out of his bedroom using its magic. From then onwards you used it to annoy him (read as try to make him relax a bit) whenever he's busy for more than four hours. He would say he hates it, but he can't deny that your demonic-looking appearance is very appealing to the eyes; not that he'd tell you. Riddle secretly wants to touch your horns but he's far too prideful to tell you; too bad you've already noticed his fleeting glances.

🃏•♡•🃏•♡•🃏•♡•🃏•♡•🃏•♡•🃏•♡•🃏•♡•🃏

"O‐oh, for me? Thats very kind of you, My Rose. W-wait, how much did you say this was? Half a billion! Why would you spend such a ridiculous amount of money!? My face isn't red— No— Listen to what I'm saying!"

🐾•♡•🐾•♡•🐾•♡•🐾•♡•🐾•♡•🐾•♡•🐾•♡•🐾

🦁 Oho? You're a flirt I see, Leona can certainly get behind that. It does help that you're one handsome man as well. Do you wanna lay the charms on him? Go right ahead and do your worst if you're brave enough to face this beast of a man. Just be prepared for when Leona decides to flirt back; too bad for you he's not exactly the chivalrous type. This lazy lion prince is ready to give you the most risqué tongue lashing of your life; figuratively and literally if you're down for it.

🦁 Leona could tell that you were royalty of some type just by the way you dressed, but you also had a certain about you that only natural-born leaders have. He completely understands your aversion to work, he feels it too, work sucks man. You once offered Leona to be your queen, since you were already the king, and to rule Sindria by your side; he may or may not be seriously considering it...

🦁 Being the second prince of the Sunset Savana, Leona is certainly no stranger to expensive gifts, so getting him anything expensive doesn't really surprise you too much. You're rich, he's rich, the gift only cost you half a billion— Wait... half a billion? Leona will absolutely give you a look of complete and utter confusion as to why you think half a billion is such a small sum of money. He can see Ruggie in the background salivating...

🦁 So you're telling him that the jewelry you're wearing can be used as a weapon? Sure.... you'll have to sit Leona down and explain to him about Djinn, metal vessels, dungeons and, dungeon capturing. Well... that is if you can convince him to stay awake long enough to let you explain it. Leona has a bunch of z's to catch, so if you don't mind he'll be taking his long overdue nap now.

🦁 Leona has a love-hate relationship with your Valefor Djinn Equip. On the one hand, he appreciates the beastman-like features that appear when it's equipped as well as the clothing style, but do you have to be so damn cold!? Don't get him wrong, Leona loves cuddling with his boyfriend but your skill has a natural chill to it in that form. It's gotten to the point where he'll refuse to touch you until you go back to normal.

🐾•♡•🐾•♡•🐾•♡•🐾•♡•🐾•♡•🐾•♡•🐾•♡•🐾

"AAGH! D‐dammit you're cold, let go of m‐me. How am I s'posed to fall asleep if 'm freezing my ass off? Go back to normal 'n I'll hold you as long 'n as tight as you want, kay?"

🐚•♡•🐚•♡•🐚•♡•🐚•♡•🐚•♡•🐚•♡•🐚•♡•🐚

🐙 You're flattery will get you absolutely nowhere! At least, that's what Azul wishes was the truth. Ugh! You're so damn suave and so damn fine that it's killing him! How is he supposed to talk you into signing a contract when you're leaning over his desk and looking at him like you'd eat him if Jade and Floyd weren't in the room!? Poor Azul is ready to pull out his hair with how many revisions you've sweet-talked him into making to the contract. He's got a business to run dammit!

🐙 Oho? A king you say? Perhaps if you would take him there, he could give your people an offer they couldn't refuse. Unfortunately for Azul, any plots he had for trapping you or your people in a deal were swiftly shut down by you holding a sword to his throat. He was equal parts terrified, disappointed, understanding and, really turned on. Azul still wants to go to Sindria though; maybe even as one of your vassals representing Twisted Wonderland's Coral Sea if you'd let him.

🐙 You got him a gift? You're not trying to bribe him or anything are you? Azul is definitely no stranger to attempted bribery considering it happens about once or twice per day. But eventually, after a bit of insisting on your part he'll accept it... and then promptly return it because there is no way you would give him something that looks so expensive for anything other than bribery. If you try an calm his nerves by telling Azul that it only cost you half a billion and it really wasn't that expensive; his blood pressure will skyrocket. Dear lord, save this man...

🐙 My, that's quite a bit of jewelry you have there, you wouldn't mind parting with a few items, would you? Now, now, Azul's only asking for a friend, no need to get up in arms about it. The cecaelia mer, being quite observant, did notice that your jewelry and a few weapons are where you get your otherworldly powers from. While Azul would love to have access to that power, since old habits die hard, he still restrains himself because he doesn't want you to distrust or dislike him.

🐙 Azul is very cautious about your Baal Djinn Equip; lightning and water are not too good a combination in this case. However, he admits must you look very dashing and handsome in the clothes and jewelry you wear; he can't help but take a few glances at your bare chest, your draconic features are also very eye-catching to him and he can't help but briefly think of a certain dragon fae. While Azul usually just observes you from a respectable distance; he's not entirely opposed to being in your arms.

🐚•♡•🐚•♡•🐚•♡•🐚•♡•🐚•♡•🐚•♡•🐚•♡•🐚

"H‐handsome? Me? I— if this is some kind of joke it's not funny! Y‐you're flattery will get you no nowhere. N‐now if you would just sign here... Hm? Revision? A D‐DATE! Hold on—!"

🕌•♡•🕌•♡•🕌•♡•🕌•♡•🕌•♡•🕌•♡•🕌•♡•🕌

🪲 Aww, you're so nice! Kalim doesn't quite understand why you're so fixated on complimenting him, but he really likes it! He definitely returns the favor tenfold; not just to repay you, but also because he thinks you're a very handsome man. Another thing he doesn't get is why Jamil keeps shooting you sharp looks when you give him some of the weirder compliments. But Kalim doesn't mind too much, even when you back him against a wall, he just takes it as an invitation to cling to you.

🪲 Wow! You're royalty too!? And a king no less! Kalim thinks that's so awesome! You should definitely expect a ton of questions about what it's like to rule an entire country. What kind of responsibilities do you have as king? Do you have to make any hard decisions that could impact your people? What kind of holidays do you have there? Can he go there one day? And so on, and so on. Wait! Where are you going? Kalim still has more questions to ask you; you can't leave yet!

🪲 Wow! Did you get him a gift? You're so nice, it looks so cool too! Kalim is absolutely ecstatic to receive anything from you, be it a conversation, a compliment, physical affection, a gift or even a simple hello! Huh? Half a billion Madol? Okay! Kalim will find you something just as expensive and go out of his way to get a job, save up a bunch of money, and buy it for you! He can't let the gift you gave him go unreciprocated!

🪲 You have genies in your jewelry!? That's so cool! Please call them out so that he can meet them all, Kalim has so many questions! Tell him about all of your dungeon-capturing adventures, he'll be entertained for hours on end. Jamil is crying tears of joy. He will also somehow convince your djinn to come out and share the many adventures that they had with you and their previous holders. Expect to have to tell him at least five of your adventures a day, Kalim doesn't care if you run out of them, you're such a good storyteller.

🪲 Poor Kalim was truly in shock when he saw your Zepar Djinn Equip for the very first time. You got so tiny after that huge light show; he was surprised. For him, this Djinn Equip is his favorite because you're basically a really cute living megaphone. Kalim thinks your round belly is really cute; when you're under a blanket you look like you're holding a pumpkin. He's glad to have a mini boyfriend he can carry around like a teddy bear, it's super fun.

🕌•♡•🕌•♡•🕌•♡•🕌•♡•🕌•♡•🕌•♡•🕌•♡•🕌

"WAH! You got small! You're so adorable now! Oh; and your ears are so long too! Can you hear better like that? Hey, what can you in this form? Is it like the other one's you've shown me so far?"

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🪞 Flattery will get you everywhere; especially with Vil! However, this pretty boy has definitely heard it all; or at least he thought he had before he met you. No one had ever been quite so bold with him before. You laid your intentions out on the table right off the bat, and frankly, he found that really hot. I mean, who wouldn't want to be swept off their feet by a handsome king such as yourself? You want to make Vil your queen, you say? Oh my, buy him dinner first, you sly devil.~

🪞 A king, you say? Well, Vil did notice that you had a regal air about you, even if it was a bit overshadowed by that boyish charm of yours. But now you've got him thinking about you're proposition to make him your queen. Were you really serious about that? If you are, Vil has a long list of suggestions that he believes would improve your future shared kingdom. So what if he's never been there before, he's got to make some changes now before he walks into what might be a hot mess.

🪞 Now Vil and his family are quite wealthy, nowhere near royalty, but they still have a hefty sum to their name. This means he is no stranger when it comes to expensive clothing, accessories, skincare, and food. He has absolutely no issues with you spending a ridiculous amount of money on a gift for him. Vil just gives you an ecstatic "Oh! You shouldn't have!"

🪞 What a lovely medley of jewelry you've got there, but um... don't you think it's just a tad bit excessive? Not that you don't look absolutely dashing just the way you are, but maybe take off one or two? Vil only wants the best for you and that means fashion-wise as well. They're your weapons as well? Well, weapon or not, Vil will not allow you to walk around with a clashing color scheme! Rose gold is out of season, you know.

🪞 You know how Vil hates Neige because he feels insecure about his appearance when he's around? Yeah... that's how he feels about your Vepar Djinn Equip. He's never seen such ethereal beauty before and it's eating him up inside! He's torn between admiring his handsome boyfriend and cursing you for being more visually appealing than he is. Vil eventually accepts it though, you are his after all, and as long as he has you he can let it slide, just this once.

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"I didn't call you old, listen closer to what I'm saying to you! I said you had a mature look about you; It's a compliment. Not many men can pull it off like you can, so you should be grateful."

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💀 Stop. Seriously, stop. You will actually kill this man if you start flirting with him in any aspect at all. Even a compliment is a death sentence for Idia. But if you really do desire to send him straight to an early grave, do as you wish. This poor man can barely even function around someone as handsome and imposing as you are. Idia can barely breathe around you, his palms are sweaty, his knees weak, not to mention all the blood loss from his ever-flowing nose due to your sparsely clothed chest.

💀 As if Idia needed any more of a reason to feel like he doesn't deserve to even be near you; he finds out you're a King. Why is this happening to him!? No, he can't go with you back to Sindria! Even if Idia really wants to because it sounds a lot like the kingdom from "WIZ - Maze of Sorcery" and its two sequels; "WIZ - Queendom of Sorcery" and "WIZ - Outings of Bob".

💀 You didn't have to buy him anything, you're going to make him feel bad! Idia doesn't need you to spend money on him, not that he doesn't appreciate it, because he really does. A new box set of a ton of animes that were just released on DVD? Well... you were the one who offered so Idia reluctantly says it's fine. W‐wait... d‐did you say... half a b‐billion... Oh! It looks like he fainted!

💀 Do you think— Would you mind if Idia used some of your magic jewelry for a few of his cosplays? He'll take good care of them, he promises! Actually, if you don’t want to lend him anything, could you... cosplay with him? Idia completely understands if you don't want to, I mean who wants to spend time with him anyway? But... the offer is still up if you ever consider it...

💀 After seeing your Crocell Djinn Equip, Idia finally understood why you weren't at all cautious about his hair. He accidentally went on a tangent about how you reminded him of a character from a manga he read once and how you were like his 'irl SSR Secret Quest Reward, Boyfriend', whatever that meant. Sometimes, Idia will ask you to go into your Djinn Equip so that you can play with his hair like that one scene in that Shoujo anime you both watched together.

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"That's way cool! A mystery boss stage with percentage boost in SSR gear and a companion character too! It's just like 'Last Delusion'! EH!? You've never heard of it!? Come on, I'll show you!"

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🐲 You're not scared of him? At all? You do know who he is right? Malleus Draconia: strongest mage in the NRC, prefect of the infamous Diasomnia dorm, heir to the throne of the Valley of Thorns? You do? Instead of finding him fear-inducing, you called him... gorgeous? Handsome? A sight for sore eyes? Consider Malleus a very flustered and confused dragon fae. He's used to getting compliments from Lilia and his vassals but from you? He feels like he's melting but in a good way. Well... he thinks so, at least.

🐲 A fellow royal? Oh, you're a king too? I hope you don't mind Malleus asking about the details of how you rule over Sidria because he has a lot of questions. He is also set to be the king of the Valley of Thorns in the future, so he wants to gain as much knowledge concerning ruling a country as possible. Malleus's ears are open; tell him anything and everything. How was Sindria established? How do you handle the punishment of your people who break the laws you set in place? Etcetera...

🐲 Malleus is quite wealthy due to his status as the prince of the Valley of Thorns, so he isn't exactly bothered by the thought of receiving expensive gifts. The price of said gift also doesn't seem to phase him. In fact, just like you, he sees such a sum of money as mere pocket change. Malleus is a dragon as well as exceptionally old, he and his grandmother have amassed quite a mountain of wealth in the many years that they have been alive. Nonetheless, he is very grateful for the gift.

🐲 That's quite the lovely set of jewels you have adorning your body there. Please spare this poor dragon boy, he's struggling to hold back his hoarding instincts. His brain is sounding the alarm bells and all he can think is "big shiny, big shiny, big shiny, bi–". Don't be too alarmed if a wild Malleus in his dragon form or otherwise swoops down and whisks you away. Though you may have to worry about leaving his hoard; it will be very difficult, I can assure you. You may just find yourself back where you started; trapped in Malleus's arms.

🐲 Malleus has seen each and every one of your Djinn Equips and if he had to pick a favorite, it would be your Focalor Djinn Equip, followed closely by your Baal Djinn Equip due to draconic appearance. The reason he favors Focalor's is that he can, instead of taking a moonlit stroll, fly through the night in the arms of his boyfriend without needing to go into his dragon form. Malleus had never been swept off his feet, but now he has, literally.

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"Child of man, these dungeons you speak of; did they perhaps house any gargoyles? I couldn't help but ask, what with all the fantastical creatures and items that you mentioned being within them."

🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.

Wanna see similar content? Check out my Masterlist!

[joelswritingmistress]

Neighbors with Benefits: Part 7 (Joel Miller x f!reader)

Part of the #hotdilfsummerchallenge @hellishjoel

Pairing: Joel x f!reader

Words: 3500

Triggers: Smut

You’re my girl. The word went off like an echo in your mind all day long. You’re my girl. You’re my girl. You’re my girl.

Did that make you Joel’s girlfriend? You weren’t sure; but it was good enough for now. More than good enough. You went from low to high in the matter of a few softly spoken words.

You sat at the kitchen table, typing away at your laptop as you filled out job applications that matched your career choice in the immediate area. As you submitted several over the course of an hour or so, your mind began to wander and you thought about how your adult life could unfold.

Get a job. Turn it into your career. Continue to see Joel. Things get more serious. Both of you are making decent money. You move into the house next to your parents with him - after your parents finally approve. You get married, have babies and your parents can see their grandchildren whenever they want because they’re one-hundred feet away. Everyone lives happily ever after. The end.

You tried not to get ahead of yourself, but that day you allowed yourself to indulge in the fantasy. Joel had eased your mind just enough when said those words to you; and you knew he meant them. From what you could honestly tell, Joel was just as wrapped up in everything as you were.

As you were about to hit the submit button for a job in the next town over, you suddenly paused upon reading one crucial detail that hadn’t been a part of previous applications: You will be staying overnight at the academy for a four month period.

Staying overnight, hmm. You thought about it for a moment and then closed out the browser. That just won’t work.

Mentally, you were all in. A short time ago you couldn’t wait to start your career, find an apartment and get on with adulting. Now, things had changed; but you knew that was part of life. You had two things in mind, and both of them could be achieved, you knew. Still, you acknowledged there were some obstacles to be cleared before the happily ever after could happen. One, Joel’s divorce needed to be finalized. Two, you had to eventually tell your parents you were seeing your older, still-married neighbor.

Those can wait. You smiled, not letting your inner monologue bring you down. I need to decide what I’m wearing to dinner.

Joel sipped on a glass of wine and stared across the way. You were dressed in a classy black dress and your best jewelry. "You’re too good for me," he said with a grin, making you laugh.

You shook your head. “I’m way out of my league with you.”

Joel shook his head again and grinned wider. “Maybe we’ve both met our match then.”

“Maybe.” You raised your eyebrows and smirked at him, tapping your glass against his and leaned closer to him as you rested your foot on top of his under the table.

"Here are your salads," a waiter whipped in, laying plates down in front of each of you and refilling the empty glasses of water beside your wine. "Your meals will be out shortly."

"Thank you.” You politely nodded and the man nodded back before wandering to another table.

"Thanks," Joel echoed, and then quickly regained your gaze.

You took a sip from your wine and gently smacked your lips. His eyebrows raised and he looked down at his plate with a smile when he felt your foot travel up the inside of his pant leg along his calf.

Joel chuckled to himself and then looked back up at you, promptly throwing his napkin down over his lap. “You're going to get us kicked out of here,” he teased.

You forked a small bite from your salad and stopped rubbing your foot against him. A smile formed on your face. “We wouldn't want that.”

"Don't tempt me.”

You laughed lightly and teased him back, whispering. "The things I want to do can wait until we get home."

Joel had to keep himself from laughing out loud as he sported a big grin. He leaned forward and spoke quietly. "You could always tell me about it."

“I thought we were supposed to have a serious talk,” you whispered, still grinning.

“Oh, is that why you keep rubbing your foot against my calf?”

You laughed a little louder and then looked around the immediate area, seeing that no one was paying attention. You then returned your attention to Joel.

"I could live with getting kicked out of here," Joel added with a wink as he rounded up another bite of lettuce. "Just sayin'..."

"You bring out my worst," you joked with a smile, never breaking eye contact.

"And you bring out my best, honey." He smiled back. "That's why I think this is going to work.”

You wanted to lean across the table and give him a kiss but rather you reached for his hand on top of the table and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I want to be with you.” There… you said it. You said the words out loud that you had been wanting to say; and to say you were pleased by Joel’s immediate response would be an understatement.

“I want this, too.” He nodded, never breaking eye contact, “I think about you just about every second I’m not with you; and I don’t know if that’s ever happened to me quite like this.”

“Me either.”

“You’re young-”

“So what.” You stared more directly at him. “I want this. I’ve never wanted a man the way I want you. Does my age bother you?”

“No.” Joel still smiled, keeping the mood light. He squeezed your hand back and you smiled wide at him.

“Good.”

He brought your knuckles to his lips. “Your parents,” Joel began, “They're-”

“Let me worry about that,” you cut him off again. “We don't have to sort everything out right this second.”

“Fair enough.” Joel kept your hand in his and you smiled simultaneously when you felt his foot run up the inside of your calf now. When you bit your lip he grinned more mischievously and lowered his voice, "Weren't you going to share details about what you wanted to do to me?”

Your eyes remained on his as his thumb began to trace circles over the back of your hand. "We should have ordered a booth so we could've sat together on the same side," you told him.

He tipped the corner of his mouth up in a half-smirk. "Well, normally I hate it when couples do that shit so you'd have to give me a good reason to consider it.”

"I'd give you plenty of reasons to consider."

"Tell me."

You knew by now that Joel could do some serious dirty talking to get you all hot and bothered but you weren't as confident in your own ability to do so. You had things running through your mind but you started giggling when you thought of yourself actually saying them out loud.

"More water?" The waiter returned with a pitcher.

"I'm fine, thank you,” you told him, leaning back to sip your wine instead. Joel put a hand up as he declined.

"Just another minute until your food comes out."

Joel didn't miss a beat, looking back to you as the waiter stepped away. "I'll take the lead on this one," he told you with a smile. "You see, if you were seated right next to me I'd slowly run my hand up the inside of your thigh..." Joel took another bite from his salad. "And I'd use these two fingers to slip your underwear to the side…”

"What if I'm not wearing any?"

He raised his eyebrows in the slightest bit of intrigued shock and then let his eyes drop toward your waist. His tongue reactively danced across his lips and then he grinned more devilishly than before. Joel looked over his shoulder, down at his lap and then back to you. "My God, woman.”

You were so enamored by Joel that you couldn't help but shamelessly let out what you were feeling; whether it be through the subtle intimate touches or quiet flirtation. It amped up your heart rate because the territory was so unfamiliar.

“I think it's best we didn't land ourselves a booth then." You grinned, "Because…”

Joel had both of his elbows on the table with his hands folded beneath his chin as he leaned almost halfway across the table now. "Because what?"

You motioned with your eyes to the waiter, who was holding a tray by his shoulder. "Guess the rest will have to wait."

He turned, wanting to slip a one hundred dollar bill into the guy's shirt and tell him to get lost, but he slowly leaned back in his chair with a painful smile on his face.

You felt pleased with yourself seeing him just a bit flustered. You never felt completely in control of him, and you hoped you could make it last.

"Steak dinner for you sir." The waiter placed Joel's food down, "And baked Tilapia for you ma'am." He looked back and forth between the two of you. "What else can I do for you?"

"Nothing," you said at the same time, and then you added. "Thank you so much."

The man nodded again and walked away.

"You know... you should dress up more often," you told him.

He chuckled to himself and began cutting the steak in front of him. "If it'll bring this side out of you-"

"No really." You smiled at him. "You look nice."

Joel shrugged and took a bite. You could see an uncomfortable shift in his posture because of the compliment. Despite you finding his fleeting moment of coyness to be adorable, you decided to get back to being flirty and a little silly to keep the vibe of the night going. "Why don't we get these meals to go and, uh..."

He glanced up to you and stopped chewing on the bite in his mouth, seeming to be eager to agree despite just getting the overly expensive meals. When he realized you were kidding he shook his head. "You're enjoying this huh?" he finally asked with a smile.

"Enjoying what?"

"You know what."

You laughed and decided to focus on your dinner. "You're right. I'm sorry."

"Don't say sorry to me, say sorry to, uh…." Joel subtly motioned to his lap with his fork and then as if he was speaking to a dog he said, "Down boy," making you laugh a little louder.

Joel chuckled and looked around to a few other diners that looked in your direction. He then looked back at you with a laugh of his own and lowered his voice again. "We're doing dessert at home."

You continued to laugh with him as you forked a bite of fish into your mouth. “Deal.”

By the time dinner was done, you felt like you were in a notch deeper. Joel slipped an arm around your waist as you exited the restaurant and the two of you made your way up the quaint, little street toward where he'd parked his truck.

"You do look beautiful," he told you as you went.

“Thank you.”

He opened the passenger door and helped you up into the truck, careful not to let you slip in your heels. You thanked him again and watched as he crossed around the vehicle to enter through his side. Joel closed the door and walked around, joining you in the car before resting a hand on your left leg. "I'm curious to see if you were being serious about the no panties thing."

"Still thinking about that huh?" You teased and glanced down as the muscles in his fingers twitched against your thigh in anticipation. "Only one way to find out."

He leaned across the way and kissed you while sliding his hand further up your leg. You massaged his tongue with your own, pressing your eyes shut hard. When his lips parted from yours, Joel took a long, deep breath out his nose. He slid his hand away and leaned back in the driver’s seat."We've got a forty minute ride home.” He looked over at you, biting his bottom lip for just a second and said. "I think I’m going to draw this one out."

You shook your head at him, noting he was making it obvious that he was taking back control of the situation. "You're going to be wondering the whole ride," you told him.

"I may just have to surrender to you before then," he admitted, beginning to pull the truck out of the parking space as he headed down the road.

"So, is this our first real date?" you asked him.

Joel grinned and gave a nod, “I suppose it is.” He linked his fingers through yours and took the steering wheel in his left hand.

You turned to him with a smile and knew he could tell you were purposely staring when he grinned to himself.

"I love that you wrote your number on a post-it,” you said to him honestly, smiling so wide that it began to make your jaw ache.

Joel laughed out loud, “The perks you get of dating an older man.”

“One of the many.”

“You know I thought about you the entire night after we first met on your back step.”

“Really?” You knew you must’ve sounded like a giddy teenager.

“Mmm…” Joel swallowed hard but a closed-mouth smile remained on his face, “I couldn’t believe you showed up at the bar that night.”

“I couldn’t believe you were there. Holly asked if I knew you and when I looked, I almost didn’t know what to do.”

Joel glanced over at you, “I’m glad you picked there of all places.”

“Me, too.” You added, “I, uh… I’ve never just done something like that before. I never wanted to. I don’t do one-night stands, or even just hook up to hook up. Not that I care if people do.” You were rambling, “My friends do all the time, it’s just not me.” You took a breath, trying to reel in your thoughts and were relieved when Joel began to chuckle.

“I know,” Joel said to you, “And you don’t have to explain.”

“I haven’t had sex with anyone since October of last year.”

He glanced at you now.

“Before you,” you added.

Joel grinned and brought the back of your hand to his lips. “Whatever happened in your relationships before me is your business. All I care about is today… and tomorrow… and the day after that.”

You smiled and leaned across the way, glancing at the open road in front of you. You planted a single kiss on his lips, vowing to take on his mindset and to stop worrying about his soon-to-be ex wife. Joel was right. The past was the past. The future was yours for the taking.

He kissed you back, glancing at the road quickly before kissing you again. "I got an idea."

You grinned, willing to follow anything he said at that moment. "What?"

Joel smiled and then floored the pedal a little harder, weaving in and out of traffic before taking an exit halfway between the restaurant and his house. He pulled the truck down a series of backroads before coming to a clearing on top of a cliff that overlooked a large body of water that stretched on for miles.

"Where are we?" You asked him, staring outward at the darkened sky.

"Nice ain't it?"

You smirked. "Something tells me you've been here before."

"Can't we let the past be the past?" Joel laughed, reiterating his previous statements.

"How many women have you taken here before me?" You raised your eyebrows at him in a playful accusation.

"A couple," he admitted, "As a younger man." And then added, leaning across the way to kiss you again. "But I just couldn't wait the forty minute ride."

You kissed him back and closed your eyes. "As long as I'm the last woman you take here..." They were a bold choice of words, but you said them anyway.

"I can agree to that," Joel told you, feeling your tongue eagerly slide back in his mouth. Your hands reached for his belt and Joel moaned into your mouth when he felt it unlatch. He pulled back for a moment, reaching for the handle that launched his seat back away from the steering wheel and then pulled you onto his lap upon shoving his pants down past his knees.

Joel moved his hand between your legs and a smile formed on his face as he fingered your underwear to the side.

“I was just teasing about the panties,” you whispered against his lips, watching his eyes close. A smile twisted back onto his face

"Save that one for our tenth date,” he choked out, leaning his head back against the headrest when you lowered yourself down onto him. Joel let out a satisfied sigh when your bodies finally connected after the prolonged sexual banter at dinner that left him yearning to touch you.

You began to move on top of him, making every part of his body twitch with pleasure. You grabbed him by his tie and kissed him hard. Immediately, you could tell he enjoyed your moment of aggression because he let out an extended moan into your mouth.

You abruptly pulled your face away. "People don't come up here, do they?" you breathed against him, not stopping as you rode him.

Joel didn't seem to care as he helped to move you with his hands; his eyes were still closed and mouth partway opened.

"Joel." You smiled and he let his eyes flicker open with a groan and a lopsided grin.

"Why, are you imagining the paper headlines?" he asked. "Local construction worker arrested for lascivious acts in a public place with his hot, young girlfriend?" He pulled your face to his and kissed you again, urging you to continue.

Girlfriend. That was all you needed to hear. Everything he had just said ignited a fire inside you as he penetrated your lips with his tongue with force. Your hand wrapped around his tie again and Joel groaned.

You didn't stop this time, breathing heavily against his mouth as he thrusted up from beneath you. When you parted your lips from his to moan, Joel grabbed your face again, guiding your mouth back to his. You could tell he was having a hard time controlling himself as he tried stopping you several times from then on out, but you didn't let him.

"You're not going to get yours," he warned, almost unable to get the words out, while keeping his eyes closed tightly as his eyebrows pressed together. His hands gripped your hips hard and you grinded on him forcefully, moaning his name out into his ear.

The muscles in Joel’s abdomen tightened and he held you against him harder as his bare thighs tensed. “Fuuuuck…” he bucked his hips up, letting out a series of moans and curse words all the while pushing your hips down forcefully against his as he began to come. Joel’s eyes were pressed shut and through gritted teeth he hissed your name.

You loved the few times when you got him so worked up that he couldn't control himself. Watching his face in that moment of pure ecstasy made your entire body feel hot and satisfied.

Joel's head finally fell back against the top of the seat again and he breathed heavily in and out with his eyes closed. You remained on top of him and touched your lips gently to his, releasing his tie from your hand before climbing off of him to get back in the passenger seat.

He didn't move for a few seconds and then finally glanced over. "Okay..." Joel took a deep breath. "Now I'm ready to fuckin' go to sleep."

You snickered and readjusted yourself next to him.

"Told you you weren't going to-" he began, but you leaned back across the center console and kissed him again. It was a hot, passionate kiss despite the intimacy that had just come to a close in the cab of his truck. "We have a long ride home," You reminded him, "So, don't get too sleepy because you owe me one once we get there."

Joel smiled and looked down before pulling his pants back up. He looked at you with a lazy grin. "You got it, honey.”

CLICK HERE FOR PART 8

@pedropascal111 @axshadows @mybritishstyle @untamedheart81 @amyispxnk @goodvibesonly421 @cosmic006533-blog @ashleyfilm @maybetomorrowgirl

[aeternalis-eien]

Gravity Falls LIVES!

So, just like so many other fans, with the release of the Book of Bill and everything, I've been re-watching the show alot and I've decided to add to the ever growing piles of Gravity Falls Fandom greatness/fun! So here are some of a Head cannons with the Falling Stars AU. *Just a note, I was not in the fandom when it was first coming out, and recently only got to find out about some of the cool AUs out there so that is part of what has caused this lol* For those like me who are learning about some of the cool AUs- Falling Stars is an AU of what if Mabel had been pulled into the portal in EP "Not what He Seems".

Also a note, I have not read book of Bill, the third journal or the comic that was published as I just have not had the chance so alot of this information/stuff I know referencing them, I will admit I got from Tik Tok so bare with me! Head Cannons that I might do one-shots on later:

-Dipper makes his parents give Stan full custody of him and Mabel with child support. The nightmare he has about his parents arguing is regarding how neither of them want either of the twins after their divorce as they find them creep/freaky and would not 'mesh' with their new families. (He could never tell Mabel of what he heard-She knew though)

-Mabel mistook Ford for Stan at first when he saved her from a black hole that was the cause of her being sucked into the portal. She spent hours clinging to him and just sob babbling. (This is also how Ford learned who she was and what likely happened)

-Mabel went into shock for four weeks after realizing what happened and that there isn't a quick/easy way to get home. (She learns to cope by being her 'normal' bubbly weird self.)

-Stan's panic, fear, and freak out in trying to get Mabel back in those early days is what allowed Dipper to not blame him for what happened and actually sit down and hear him out about why he was building the portal. (This would be basically the EP of Tale of Two Stans)

-Dipper has been allowed into Stan's mind/memories with his permission. This started with Stan wanting to regain Dipper's trust and then grew into their search for clues on repairing the portal that Dipper might be able to figure out that Stan couldn't.

-Dipper and Stan spend years trying to get the portal working again, even though Stan forces him to socialize and not stop living his life/existing.

-After Mabel and Ford finally get back, they are able to explain the reason that the portal couldn't just be turned back on due to how dangerous it was. (Back to back uses could rip reality apart fully if not the very planet itself.)

-Mabel acts like her old silly self as not only a coping method but as a way to hold to who she once was, but she can flip on a dime into a serious warrior survival type mode.

-Pacifica and Dipper started dating in high school. Since the weirdness continues in Gravity Falls (and outside it) they grow closer during one of these situations. -Dipper found out that Pacifica is actually really smart, she even ends up joining him and Stan on working on the portal. -She honestly does love Dipper.

-Wendy and Stan ended up 'forcefully' teaching Dipper how to be 'athletic' in their own ways. -Stan got him into boxing and gifted him his own brass knuckles -Wendy got him into parkour and rock climbing. - Pacifica got him into light gymnastics; but he won't talk to anyone else about it.

-Dipper blames himself for Mabel being pulled into the portal and believes that if he had just trusted Stan none of it would have happened.

-Mabel blames herself for getting pulled in, believing that if she hadn't let go of the button she wouldn't have been so easily pulled in and is worried about what has happened to Stan and Dipper.

-Stan taught Dipper how to pick locks as a hobby and 'male bonding' -Pacifica picked it up and is better at it then both of them.

-Dipper took up photography and found that he has the talent and skill to be professional. He started this so that he could continue Mabel's scrapbooks. -Pacifica, Greta and Candy now do a weekly scrapbook day after finding Dipper spiraling at 14 trying to balance his time doing everything.

-Ford made Mabel a digital journal/camera that she can wear as either a watch or a pendant so that she can record/photograph their journey to show Dipper when they get home. -Ford lost hope finding a way home long ago, but he doesn't want her to become like him.

-Greta has become a very popular travel influence/blogger thanks to her royal boyfriend. They are in love and very loyal to each other. -She likes to collect things from her travels to give to Mabel when she returns.

-Candy is on her way to become an internationally acclaimed robotics and prosthetics engineer. -She helps ensure Dipper's protective gear actually works.

-Pacifica has become independently wealthy away from her family due to her skills in finances and stocks. She also handle's Dipper's investments and patents as well as McGucket's. -She basically runs the fiances for the Shack, Stan and Dipper as she claims they are money morons- they are of course. -She has made sure the shack has been kept up and all the work is properly funded for the portal repairs.

-Dipper moved into Ford's old room after a year and a half as he couldn't handle seeing Mabel's things, but couldn't bring himself to move or touch them either.

-Waddles is/has been taken care of by everyone as every single person can't imagine how sad Mabel would be if she returned and he was gone.

-Mabel is known across the multiverse as the greatest matchmaker in any reality. She has made a solid name for herself and brings in 'funds' for her and Ford's travels. -She is even sought out by multiverse royalty for her skills in finding compatible matches that are known to be long lasting.

-Ford calls Mabel Kirk as she left a trail of broken hearts through their travels by no fault of her own as someone 'always' fell head over heels for her; even if she was clueless about it. -Mabel doesn't get the reference.

-After Mabel returns, she has kept in contact with some of the friends she made in traveling with a crystal flower that she keeps safe. When she first got back it looks like she was just talking to herself freaking out Dipper and Stan, but they eased when Ford explained what was going on during a particular heated conversation she was having with someone's who's language is to shout aggressively.

-Dipper grew his hair out because it reminds him of Mabel; he normally wears it tied back or braided when he is working.

-Mabel cut her hair short because it reminds her of Dipper; Ford isn't the best barber so Mabel learned how to do both their hair for him.

-Mabel takes out at least three of Bill's friends during Weirdmageddon herself. Stan is both horrified and deeply impressed.

I'm sure I'll think of more and might just add on to this lol.

I hope everyone enjoys some of my HC!

[elliesbelle]

nobody compares to you

chapter 5

pairing: ellie x reader

synopsis: you're in your junior year of college and at a party, you run into the girl who broke your heart: ellie williams. despite the time it took to reset your life, will you risk a broken heart again for her?

content warnings: modern college au, cursing, angst, slight slut-shaming, brief mention of death, minors do not interact

word count: 2.3k

chapters: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen

series masterlist

my masterlist

i have a ko-fi if you like my work so much that you feel compelled to tip me ♡︎

the "nobody compares to you" spotify playlist

featuring the isa song “sometimes you lose your soulmates”

Present Day 

Though you didn’t exactly enjoy Mondays, it was at least the one day of the week when you got to wake up naturally instead of at the crack of dawn. Your first class isn't until noon, so when you wake up at 9:30 in the morning, you decide to get your day started early. 

You weren’t always the type of person to completely do themselves up just to go to class. Maybe in freshman year for the first few weeks, but you were a seasoned vet now. Most of the time, some leggings and a simple shirt or sweater sufficed. But after such a shitty weekend, you figure you could at least make yourself feel good by looking good. 

After half an hour of getting ready, you look yourself over in the bathroom mirror. You smile, fairly satisfied with your appearance. Despite the cold breezes of Saturday night, the forecast called for a rare warm day. As a result, you allowed yourself a floral sundress, decorated with a puffy knitted, button-up jacket on top of it in case the season’s true weather decided to show. A pair of simple white sneakers finished your outfit; not the most stylish, but practically, you still had to walk around campus. 

Your lips shine from the bit of lip gloss you’d applied. You’d only applied some light mascara on today (you figured that your Literature and Sexuality class did not warrant your bold, false eyelashes). You’d lightly painted your eyes with colours that complemented those of your sundress, blending them seamlessly onto your eyelids. As you did this, that one memory that was prodding you two days ago became clearer. 

“I have no idea how you do that so naturally, dude.” Ellie’d said, watching you in awe from the foot of your bed. 

Her ocean green eyes watched the meticulous strokes of your makeup brush applying eyeshadow to your lids. It was early on in your “friendship” and it was still a couple more weeks of her calling you “dude” before you became “babe” and “baby.” 

“It’s not that hard, honestly. Just takes some practice.” You’d said, trying to keep your hand steady as you grew nervous under Ellie’s watchful gaze. 

“Nah, it’s natural talent. You’re an artist.” She’d replied. 

You’d scoffed, saying, “Ellie, all I’m doing is my makeup. You’re the actual artist, remember?” 

“No,” She’d shaken her head. “I just draw. You’re the artist here.” She’d said decidedly, eyes full of admiration as she continued to stare. 

You’d blushed furiously then, and you would continuously do so when you’d replay that memory the months following after. 

But it was two years later and now, the memory instead has you staring at your reflection tight-lipped and frowning. 

Why is she still everywhere? 

It was roughly a fifteen to twenty-minute walk from your apartment to the university. You lived in an off-campus apartment complex that was in a decent location from both the school and a downtown area nearby. It was less convenient than living on campus like several of your friends still did, and this certainly wasn’t what you’d had in mind when you were planning out your social college experience. But after the freshman year events of Rafael’s death and Ellie’s abandonment, you were far more comfortable where you were. 

You liked walking anyway. You found solace in the strolls you took, accompanied only by your thoughts and headphones. 

About five minutes into your trek to campus, you pull out your phone to text your friend Tara. 

A couple of minutes later, you were just officially entering the campus when Tara texts you back. 

You continue walking as you frown down at your phone. Dina had spent most of the previous day at your place, cheering you up and taking your mind off Ellie. Your group chat with your other friends was blowing up and by the end of the night when Dina had left, you were overwhelmed by the amount of unread texts you had. The group chat remained unopened until right now. 

The chat consisted of your friends Tara, Sidney, Astrid, Rebecca, Kristen, and Mina. You’d met them all in freshman year. Tara was your assigned roommate and Astrid was Dina’s. They were all initially casual friends, ones that you saw on a usual basis and got along well with, but they weren’t necessarily very close. You were better friends with the gang from Jackson. But after you came back to campus for sophomore year, you detached yourself slightly from Dina and Jesse, knowing full well that Ellie had them first. They both tried to remain closer to you; but they remained inseparable from their childhood best friend, not fully knowing what events led to what “broke up” you two. It wasn’t the same and it was a much different dynamic with this other friend group, but the girls were there for you all the same. 

Reluctantly, you click on the group chat named “Wilson Crew ❤️‍🔥” (Wilson Valley had been the name of the freshman dorm building most of you had resided in the first year). Scrolling up to where you’d left off, you scan the messages your friends had left the previous day. Your eyes grow wider and wider the more you read. 

The previous day, Tara, who worked at a campus coffee shop called Ruston Coffee, was tasked to train a new girl. To her, your other friends’, and now your shock, the new girl Tara was training was Freshman Girl. The same Freshman Girl who stayed glued to Ellie’s side for most of Saturday night. The same Freshman Girl who drooled over Ellie’s every word and move. The same Freshman Girl that mistook your Ellie’s signature lavender-laced joints as lilac. The same Freshman Girl who wore Ellie’s old motorcycle jacket the entire night. 

It turned out Freshman Girl did have a name: Daniela. Your friends had sent messages with different levels of shock and horror. Kristen called her a whore, to which Sidney agreed, to which Astrid reprimanded and told them both to be nice. Mina sent memes as a response. Tara also texted that Daniela would be working with her again today. 

You look up. Ruston Coffee is just down the way. You don't have to go in. You can skip coffee for today and hide out in the library instead. 

“I’m not expecting you and Ellie to magically make up. I won’t try to get into the middle of it because I know that’s between you two. But you definitely need to figure out this out, babe. This doesn��t seem like something that should remain unresolved.” Dina’d said.

“But don’t also let it affect all the other parts of your life, okay?" She continued. "She shouldn’t be stopping you from hanging out with me and Jess more often or going out to parties we’re at or anything that involves Ellie in some way. Don’t let her stop you from enjoying your life.” 

And Ellie certainly shouldn’t stop you from getting coffee. If you want to get a coffee and relax before class, Ellie should not be getting in the way of that. 

You take a deep breath and march towards the coffee shop, fingers gripping tightly onto the straps of your backpack and feet stomping in rhythm to good 4 u by Olivia Rodrigo blasting loudly through your headphones. 

A bell above the door tinkles as you enter Ruston Coffee. The shop was a little busy, most seats taken up by other students sitting with their laptops or biding time before class. There's a line of people by the register and you begin approaching it until you hear your name being called. 

Your friend Tara waves you over by the counter where orders are usually dropped off. In one of her hands is a straw and your ready-made mocha frappe. 

“You’re the literal best, Tara.” You sigh, pulling your headphones off and walking up to her. 

She hands you your coffee order. 

“No problem.” She says, smiling. “You know that I don’t mind.”

“Thank you for indulging in my caffeine addiction,” You say, whipping out your phone and sending her $6. 

Tara frowns and says, “You better not have given me a $3 tip this time.” 

You sip from your straw. 

“Dude!” Tara reprimands, laughing. 

“$2 tip!” You say, defensively. 

“Just for a $4 coffee.” She chides, shaking her head. 

You shrug. 

“So uh,” Tara begins, her voice lowered slightly. “Did you see what I said in the group chat yesterday? Cause you weren’t responding.” 

You gulp. 

“Uhh. Yeah, I did, just now. Sorry, Dina was at my place yesterday, so I was busy—” 

“Nah nah, it’s cool, man. But like. You saw what I said about that girl, right?” 

“Is she here?” You ask, chewing the inside of your cheek. 

“Not yet. But—” Tara checks her watch. “—she’s supposed to be here in less than five minutes or so.” 

Fuck. 

“Oh, okay.” You gulp, your heart rate increasing. 

“Are you okay, dude?” Tara asks. 

“No, yeah, I’m fine.” You lie. “How did training her yesterday go?” 

Tara crosses her arms and rolls her eyes. 

“Literally the worst. She kept on looking at her phone instead of listening, she left one AirPod in her ear the whole time, she kept asking when we were gonna be done. And now I have to go through it all again once she gets here.” 

You give Tara a sympathetic look. 

“I hate that,” You say, sucking on your teeth. “Can’t you just, I don’t know, not hire her?” 

“We’re short-staffed as fuck, so we don’t have much of a choice.” Tara sigh. 

One of Tara’s co-workers comes up behind her and attempts to elbow her ribs which she dodges easily. 

“Get back to work, Maclay.” He says, putting down two cups of coffee next to her before heading back towards the register. 

“Fuck off, Khanh!” She replies, shooting a middle finger to his back. 

“Should I let you get back to work?” You ask. 

“Nah,” Tara reassures. “I wanna shit talk this Daniela girl first before I have to deal with her this morning.” 

“Do you know how often she’s gonna be working with you?” You inquire. 

“I’m not sure yet, but if Bonnie thinks she’s gonna stick me with a lazy new girl this early in the year—” 

You hear the bell above the door tinkle as someone enters the coffee shop. Both you and Tara look instinctively at the new arrival. Tara groans silently and your throat goes dry. 

Freshman Girl Daniela walks in. Wearing Ellie’s jacket once again. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

“Crap, I gotta go now, I guess.” Tara whines begrudgingly. 

“Y-yeah…” You say, unable to take your eyes off of that same jacket that used to often adorn your shoulders back in your freshman year. You hate that it looked good on Daniela. 

“I’ll see you later, dude.” Tara says, wrenching her elbows off the counter and walking towards the register. 

“Good luck.” You reply. 

You aren't exactly subtle with your stare, but thankfully Daniela doesn't seem to notice. It's a little different seeing her now in the daytime. She was very pretty, you have to admit to yourself. She has a short, pixie cut that complements her sharp bone structure. She's wearing a bright yellow tank top below Ellie’s jacket that clings to her lean figure, making her stand out slightly. The light makeup she has on looks so simple and natural. 

Daniela wasn’t Ellie’s first conquest since you ended things with her. She didn’t waste much time dating around after you all came back for your sophomore year. You’d avoided her as much as possible so you wouldn't have to come face-to-face with the girls she’d get involved with. You still heard about them, of course, and you were sure there were even more than the ones you’d known about. 

But Daniela was the first you were forced to encounter. You weren’t prepared to be thrust right into Ellie’s love life once more. But here you are, staring at the most recent fling of the girl who you were once so desperately in love with. 

As Daniela lazily makes her way through the shop towards the back, you eventually tear your eyes off her and head straight for the exit. 

♫ Maybe she’ll come through / If he waits some more 

But she doesn’t / No, she doesn’t ♫ 

You're leaning against one of the trees in the quad, backpack laid next to you and headphones back on your ears. Your next class is in the building right behind you, but you still have a while until it started. 

♫ It’s not like the movies / Like you dream it’ll be 

Sometimes you lose your soulmates / And sometimes they leave ♫

Your journal and pen are laid out on your lap but abandoned as your fingers pick at the grass around you. Your mostly empty coffee cup sits next to you, condensation dripping into the soil. Your eyes are completely glazed over, watching the clouds in the sky. 

♫ She’s not a girl you forget / She’ll run through your head 

With all of the moments / You loved but now dread 

To remember / Burning like—♫ 

Your hands and voice react quicker than your mind does. Your sudden movements cause your headphones to fall onto your neck. After a second, you realize that you had shrieked and that your hands had flown up to your face to catch something. As you bring the object down to look at it, you realize it was a football. 

“Shit! I’m so sorry!” 

You look up to see a tall girl in a dark t-shirt and grey sweatpants jogging towards you, a dirty blonde braid bouncing behind her. 

“Abby?”

author's notes:

sorry for the delay in uploading this! i'm back from my brief vacation, and after i settled in after getting home, i almost immediately plopped down in front of my laptop to finalize this ldksfjsdlkds

not very chockful of ellie in this chapter, i know, i'm sorry! y'all got plenty last chapter! but don't worry, more will be coming up soon. i just enjoy keeping y'all in suspense.

i just wanna mention that most (if not all) of the names that i use in this fic are picked out people in the games themselves. also tara's last name is maclay as an homage to my lesbian queen tara maclay from buffy the vampire slayer. she's not the same character obvi, but i just enjoy putting in the reference :)

freshman girl aka daniela may have been named after and based on some whore girl that my ex left me for and that i'm still bitter about it oops

i hope y'all enjoyed the surprise guest appearance at the end of this chapter! she will be integrated further into the story from this point on, so stayed tuned :)

taglist: @lonelyfooryouonly, @elliesinterlude, @sawaagyapong, @peppesgirl, @iconsoft, @maybeidohaveadhd, @ellieswifee, @valiantllamapersonpony-blog, @nil-eena, @echostinn, @uraesthete, @softbunlvr, @cherriessxinthespring, @amitycat, @chrissyfishywissy, @yevheniiaaa, @machetegirl109, @bertandfearnie, @ximtiredx, @efam, @elliesnoviecita, @oatmilkchaii, @tayyyystan, @emothurman, @livvy-2000, @abigaillovestoread, @gold-dustwomxn, @liabadoobee, @yuckyfucky

[raz-writes-the-thing]

New Year's Kiss (Good Omens One-Shot)

Aziraphale x GN!Reader / requests are open

Summary: Aziraphale asks to be your New Year's kiss.

Fic type: holiday fluff

GOMENS: @coffee-and-red-lipstick @quickslvxrr @clarina04 @motionlessindoubt @stevekempscocktails @go-bonkers-go-foolish @peytonpenguin37 @florduarte @complimentary-breadbasket @thekirbishow @jaziona92 (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You’d mentioned it when you were a little tipsy on New Year's morning. You’d never been kissed. You’d never had a kiss on New Year’s either. Well, those things sort of went hand in hand, but the point was- you’d never felt someone’s lips upon yours. 

It wasn’t necessarily something that upset you. It was a fact just like how caterpillars have, like, four thousand muscles was a fact. But Aziraphale was a romantic at heart, and how could he let a stunning creature such as you go without a New Year’s kiss when there wouldn’t be another chance of that for another whole year? Not a long time for Aziraphale, no- but it was for you. 

So, at five minutes to, Aziraphale took your hands in his and gave you one of his ever so charmingly romantic smiles. 

“My dear,” he started somewhat hesitantly. Like he didn’t quite know what to say. “I’ve been thinking about your confession this morning.” 

“My confession?” You asked, having sobered up many hours previous. “Oh! The New Year’s kiss thing? Yeah, what about it?” 

Aziraphale’s thumb brushed over the back of your hand. Your heart skipped a beat. 

You’d had feelings for Aziraphale for a while now. How could you not? He was soft, kind, handsome and a reader. And he did his own washing- what more could you ask for, really? But you’d never really entertained the idea that he might have felt the same way for you. 

“I know I haven’t mentioned it before,” he said, clearing his throat and ordering his thoughts. “But- if you were amenable, I- well, I would be honoured if you’d do me the honour of being your first.” 

You blinked a couple of times, trying to let the information absorb into your brain. 

“Kiss, that is,” he hurriedly corrected, though you honestly wouldn’t have minded the alternative either just quietly. 

“I- Aziraphale,” you breathed, a smile slowly spreading over your lips. You bit down on your bottom one so as not to seem too eager. There was a squeal threatening to escape you any second now.

“I know this is highly unusual for romantic courtships,” he continued on, clearly growing anxious now. “But I just thought, well, why not ‘shoot my shot’, as it were.” 

Your eyes darted to the countdown on the television. Just a minute left now. Outside, you could hear the people gathered on the street start to countdown. 

“I- yes, Aziraphale. I would love that.” 

Aziraphale looked very pleased with himself, and he let go of one of your hands to brush his forefinger down your cheek. 

“You’re truly stunning, my dear. Gorgeous.” 

You could feel your cheeks flush slightly at the compliment. Aziraphale was always paying you compliments, but they never ceased to fluster you with their sincerity. 

“You’re not so bad yourself,” you chuckled back, eyes roaming over his features. He really was gorgeous, wasn’t he? Outside, you could hear the countdown get louder as it reached ten seconds to go. 

Your grin was infectious, and Aziraphale shot you one of his own. He shuffled in place as if he were nervous. He probably was. 

And then the countdown struck zero, and Aziraphale’s lips were on yours. Soft skin but a firm press of his lips. Your arms wound around his neck and you pressed yourself close. You’d waited so long for this- for a kiss, for Aziraphale, really. 

And now you had him. 

Zira pulled away and pressed his forehead to yours affectionately. He held you close, not wanting to let go of you just yet. 

“Happy New Year, my darling,” he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

“Happy New Year, Zira,” you replied lovingly. 

It was gonna be a good year. You just knew it.

[ghostfacesvalentine]

Obsessed - James Patrick March x Fem!Reader

Pairing: James Patrick March x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Nsfw, fem rec. oral, slight overstimulation, not much else.

Type: Headcanon

Request: Can I get uhhh... first time with James Patrick March from AHS? //^^// but only if you want to! If you don’t then just ignore this! I live your writing anyway! 💞✨

Word Count: N/A

Prompt: First time with James Patrick March!

Notes: This only took me four years, but I got to it didn’t I :))) Okay so I wasn’t specified whether it’d be hc or a one shot so I just went ahead and went with hc! If you’d like a one shot feel free to send it in!

♡ James becomes completely and utterly devoted to you the moment he sees you.

♡ When he finds out that you’re as innocent as a hummingbird, it only furthers his obsession with you.

♡ He’s always smothering you

♡ James always makes sure you’re not hungry or cold or missing anything really. Almost to the point that it’s kind of annoying, a little bit.

♡ Anytime he sees you, he greets you with lots and lots of kisses, kissing your hands repeatedly and up your arms shamelessly.

♡ He will not hesitate to treat you like a goddess, mark my words.

♡ His attention is 110% on you, literally has tunnel vision when it comes to you.

♡ If you ask him to take your virginity, then you better brace yourself because he sure as hell didn’t.

♡ The question would truly shock him.

♡ “Why Y/N. It’d be my soundest of pleasures.”

♡ Of course he would take the whole day to make this as special as he possibly could for you.

♡ He’d occupy the best room in the Cortez for the time, as always but this time with no interruptions.

♡ James would make sure it was flawlessly elegant, the most beautiful of drapery and matching bed duvet. 

♡ Room service would be ordered in for whatever your liking. He’d even order in some fresh strawberries and champagne for the special night.

♡ Honestly at first, he’d let you make the initial move.

♡ Though he’s super eager, he knew it was a big deal and he wants to make sure this is what you’re ready for.

♡ You kiss him first, which as he describes it, is “an electrifying experience”

♡ He remains soft with you though, kissing you back gently. He was holding back for sure, it was by no means easy though.

♡ But when you begin to kiss him more hungrily, he kind of loses it a little.

♡ His kisses become a bit more desperate, but still with love, to the point where you do have to pull away for air.

♡ He’s so intoxicated by the way that you smell, your taste, your touch. He’s ready to devour you right where you are.

♡ He takes his time in placing you on the bed, delicately taking off your clothes, placing soft and gentle kisses on the parts your skin became exposed.

♡ Taking note of what you like and what you don’t like. It exhilarates his behavior to watch you tremble.

♡ He gives you your first hand job, making sure your wetness soaks his hands, he doesn’t even know if he’s scissoring his fingers in your cunt for himself or for you.

♡ Watching your head fall back in pleasure is everything to him, he even tilts your chin forward to look at him as tears well in your eyes.

♡ James twists and turns his fingers in you, a sinful smile never leaving his lips, as the time slipped away, he became hungrier for you.

♡ Your pleasure brought a desperation James hadn’t seen in decades.

♡ He’s obsessed with your pleasure, it brings a euphoria to him in a similar way that killing does.

♡ Once he’s rubbed all your slick against your folds, he starts to lap at your core. His arms hook under your legs to bring you closer to him.

♡ I’m obsessed with the idea of him kneeling in the most uncomfortable position but so desperate to eat you out that he’s just there in place in bliss as your arousal drenches his face.

♡ He can be there for hours. He doesn’t really talk you through an orgasm, but when you feel yourself clenching up, he continues his pace, with a hand on your breast, squeezing it gently as you rock your hips against his face.

♡ You apologize because you have no idea what happened but he’s not listening like at all.

♡ He does this over and over until you are practically weeping.

♡ When he first enters you, he has you on your back, looking right at him already succumbed into pleasure.

♡ You’re so lost in your orgasms that it didn’t sting when he entered you, in fact he wished he could record this moment for his own pleasure.

♡ Your eyelids half closed in bliss, he didn’t take long to pick up the pace, still quietly assuring himself that you weren’t in any pain.

♡ It didn’t take long for you to cum again, allow me to speculate that seeing your coat of white on his dick sends him over the edge.

♡ He keeps fucking the orgasm out of you. All you could do is lay back and brace yourself. You can grab and pull and scratch at him all you want, he’s pounding you into the mattress.

♡ Id say James has a pretty decent tolerance so it’s going to be a long night of orgasms after orgasms.

♡ Mr. “Are you aware that the average woman is capable of 8 orgasms in a single session?”

♡ You’re not even capable of responding, barely able to comprehend what the whole sentence was and that only drives him to keep going.

♡ The picture of you helpless, covered in juices of arousal, twitching in pleasure and eyes rolling back in bliss. He’s obsessed. And he caused all of this.

♡ This is your first time but he’s treating you like a toy, he’s so desperate to see you like this. Normally he’d try all kinds of positions but since it is your first time, he wants to see how much you’re capable of.

♡ He’s kind of infatuated with the view and of course it boosts his ego in a demented sense. It’s not until you start crying out that you can’t take it anymore.

♡ He’s cautious at first, getting to know your limits, but give it some time he’ll encourage you to keep taking it because he knows you’re capable.

[fuctacles]

B-listers, Slashers, and Porn: The Movie Marathon Pyramid

Late for @strangetober 29th "slasher" bc i cant read calendars starting with Sunday 😩😩😩 also @stevieweek & "This is what you're doing on Halloween?"

M/E | ~4k | Steddissy/Hellcheer/Cheerscoops/Steddie | transfem!Stevie, transmasc!Eddie, FanslyModel!Chrissy, open relationship, sex work | Part 1/2 and a continuation of this | Ao3

"No way this is what you're doing on Halloween." Eddie frowns at his friend's streaming schedule. "Really?"

"Hey, it's okay if you're busy. I'm not expecting you to mod at my every whim. Someone else will be free or I'll just survive one day without. I'm not expecting a huge turn out anyway."

"Because everyone already has plans," he nods along. "Yeah, but why you don't?" He frowns. 

"I do?" Stevie sounds confused over his speakers. "We're talking about them right now." 

Eddie wishes he was on camera so she could see the impressive eye roll that Max had taught him.

"With friends, dumbass. Not a bunch of simps who want to catch your heart attack live. There's a thousand parties you could go to instead!"

Stevie sighs. 

"Everyone already has something and I don'want to go partying with strangers. I'd rather sit at home and play games, honestly," she admits. 

Eddie is, to put it lightly, deadly offended. 

"You didn't ask me," he points out. 

"You live in a different state, man." 

"So does Lucas!"

"Yeah, and that's why I'm not seeing him either!" 

"Well, consider yourself invited. I'll pay for your ticket if I have to."

"What? No--"

"We've been already planning a lazy movie marathon with Chris and you are more than welcome to join."

"That doesn't sound like you. A cozy night in? On Halloween?" Stevie wonders out loud. "Is this a trap? Have you been body snatched?"

"Dude, I've been working on so much shit this month I just want to kick back and relax," Eddie sighs, grimacing at the thought of everything he still has to do before the day of rest. 

"Shit, right, you're releasing that new EP this month!" 

"Yep. So for twenty-four hours, I want to shut myself in and not look at any social media, any music charts, or any emails from my manager. Phone off, Netflix on."

Stevie hums thoughtfully. 

"Will the rest of the band be there?"

Eddie smirks. 

"Just say you want to see Gareth again," he teases. "No, we've spent so much time in the studio for this EP I can't look at their ugly mugs anymore. No, it's just me and Chrissy this time. And now you, of course."

"Ed, if you want to spend this time together, you don't have to invite me."

"You think I'm doing this for you?" He raises his eyebrows at the tiny icon on his screen that represents his friend. "This is for my peace of mind. But mostly for Chrissy, honestly, she won't shut up about you," he groans. 

"Really?" Stevie asks in a small voice, sounding genuinely surprised. 

"Don't you dare play coy now, you seduced my girlfriend with your athletic body and now she wants me to drink protein shakes!"

Stevie bursts out laughing. 

"I'm sorry?" she offers.

"I'll accept your sorries only if you join us for an evening of bad horrors and spiked hot chocolate."

"Deal."

Stevie has the Uber app open and is typing in her destination address when a piercing whistle splits the air. She winces but ignores it as any other time. 

"Hey, babygirl!"

For once, she reacts to the catcalling, as the voice sounds familiar. Her eyes widen.

"Oh, you fucking idiot!" she hisses, which results in her long-distance friend cackling in amusement. Stevie storms to the car he's leaning against, a black van with a demon painted on the side. 

"Hi, sweetheart." He give her his best sleazy smile and leans in to kiss her on the cheek. She doesn't protest but she does roll her eyes. 

"You could have told me you'd pick me up."

"And ruin the surprise? Nuh-uh." He shakes his head.

Stevie sighs. She knows Eddie dropping the theatrics is as likely as Hell freezing over. 

"Well, lead me to your lair, then."

He lights up, prying the bag from her hand while he opens the door. 

"Take a seat, milady, I'll drop your luggage in the back," he says with a small, courteous bow.

The drive passes with Eddie drilling her about her favorite movies and the snacks they are missing. She assures him all she needs is a nap and a warm meal, and he dutifully drives her to her destination. 

Eddie's house is small, a place he's renting right now but planning to buy if money lets him. He opens up the door, Stevie's bag hauled over his shoulder, and yells out:

"Chris! We have a guest!'

Stevie eyes him warily. 

"You told her I'm coming, right?"

Eddie only grins. Then, a shriek rings through the house. 

"Stevie!"

Chrissy throws herself at the girl, and thank gods for their athletic reflexes, because it could end up on the floor otherwise. 

"Hi Chris," Stevie smiles, holding the girl close. It's been months since they saw each other. 

"Why didn't you tell me?!" Chrissy asks with a pout. 

"To be fair, I was sure you knew about this until five seconds ago."

They both look at Eddie, but he's already gone from his spot. There is a clatter of dishes coming from the direction of the kitchen, though.

"Bastard is trying to placate me with food," she hisses, adjusting Chrissy's legs more securely around her hips before she walks towards the sound.

"And here I was wondering why he made his signature stew," Chrissy sighs against her ear. Stevie chuckles. 

"Well, at least he knows what works on me."

They enter the kitchen to find Eddie stirring the thick dish in the pot.

"Hello ladies," he smiles with the obliviousness of an experienced jester. "Hungry?"

"Starving," Stevie admits reluctantly, placing  Chrissy on the counter. "It smells good," she says, her hands resting on her friend's thighs. She can see Eddie's eyes lingering there. 

"Chrissy doesn't like it too spicy, but I can add some extra chilli flakes to your bowl," he says, refocusing on the food. "Wanna try it?" he asks, raising up the wooden spoon. 

"Sure," Stevie shrugs, and watches mesmerized as he gently blows on it before raising it to her mouth.

"How is it?" 

"It's good as it is," she decides, licking her lips to catch everything. "Can I help with something?" she asks, already looking around the kitchen for something to do.

"You can grab the bowls. They're in the cupboard above Chrissy."

Instead of letting her jump off the counter, Stevie picks her up again and relocates further away, to the girl's delight.

Then she opens the cupboard and her eyes light up when she finds their pumpkin-shaped bowls

"Oh my god I love these! You guys are such dorks," she grins, while pulling them out.

"Wait til you see the Garfield tea set," Chrissy smiles back. 

"Where is it?!" 

The stew gets forgotten for a long while, all of Stevie's focus now on ploundering through her friends' cupboards. She finds not only the Garfield tea set, but also matching plates and a lunchbox. There's also a whole shelf dedicated to ornate chalices and tankards. 

"Is this a real horn?"

"Sure is," Eddie grins proudly. "Metal as fuck, isn't it?" 

"Can I have a beer in it later?"

"Absolutely," he laughs, picking up the bowls. "Now come eat."

Stevie gets distracted again with her spoon, its handle shaped like vines, but eventually she digs into the stew. 

"This is good," she praises with an appreciative hum. "Just knowing you, I'd never let you loose in a kitchen."

Chrissy snorts into her bowl and starts choking, which doesn't faze Eddie, who just passes her a glass of water and pats her back. 

"And you'd be right, because I've put all my culinary skills into three dishes I can execute perfectly, and everything else is a biohazard," he grins like it's something to be proud of. Which, in a way, might be. 

"Well, everything I cook tastes kind of bland, so maybe your method is the way to go," stevie shrugs at that, eyeing Chrissy's watery eyes. She seems to have gotten a hold on herself for the time being.

After eating, despite Stevie's flight and the late hour, they start up Scream and hang out with mugs of steaming tea in hands. Eddie had vetoed booze right before bed and the girls reluctantly agreed. They argue the movie list for their actual marathon, as it needs cheesy slashers for Chrissy, outdated special effects for Stevie, and ridiculous plots for Eddie. 

"Terrifier," Chrissy declares like there was no arguing with her. There wasn't, but her friends would try anyway.

"You guys need to see the one with a possessed Christmas tree."

"The Haunting!" Stevie pitches in. 

The list grows and grows and they reluctantly agree to roll a dice on the marathon day to decide the watching order. 

"You can have my bed and I'll sleep with Eddie tonight, okay?" Chrissy asks once the credits starts rolling and Stevie is dozing off, bundled into a spare blanket. The girl blnks at her sleepily. 

"Okay," she says slowly with a frown. "You guys don't share a bedroom?"

"He snores," Chrissy winces like the sole idea appalls her. "And we both like our space. We usually share a bed anyway, just swap between rooms."

"I can take the couch," Stevie offers. "I don't want to hog your space like that."

"Don't worry about it" Chrissy waves her off. "We can switch around later. Now," she stands up to grab her hand. "Do you have enough energy for a shower or would you rather go straight to bed."

"Straght to bed, please," Stevie whines, letting her friend haul her up. 

"Bed it is then, princess," she agrees, slowly leading her upstairs.

"Eddie's rubbing off on you," Stevie says with a wide smile.

"Yeah, he does that a lot," her friend smirks back and they giggle as she opens the right door. "Here's my room. Eddie's is the one opposite door, and at the end you'll find the bathroom. Left door, right one is the office," she explains while pointing along. "You'll find clean towels in the cupboard. Do you need anything? T-shirt to sleep in?" she asks, pushing gently so Stevie sits on her bed. Her sheets are dark green, matching the plants littering the room. 

Stevie has her own pyjama's but like hell is she going to pass on the opportunity to wear her hot friend's clothes.

"Yes, please. Would it be okay if I slept in just pants?" she asks as well. 

Chrissy snorts.

"Totally. Eddie usually sleeps completely naked so don't be surprised if you run into his white ass on a midnight snack trip," she grins. "And I don't wear pants to sleep, just longer shirts. You want long or short ones?"

For a second, Stevie's lost wondering what she's gotten herself into, but she quickly remembers what her friend is asking about. 

"Short," she decides, watching Chrissy open the top drawer of her dresser. The blonde hums as she goes through its contents. 

"Would this be okay? I can look through Eddie's stuff," she offers, presenting a pair of soft shorts patterned in ice cream cones. 

Stevie raises her eyebrows. 

"Is this on purpose?" 

Chrissy looks down at the shorts, before chuckling at the unintentional Scoops Ahoy reference. 

"I swear it's not. It's the first ones I saw that would fit."

Stevie takes them in hand and inspects the width and give of the elastic. 

"They should be fine, thank you," she smiles. 

"Of course, honey. I'm gonna take a shower, you can exploit Eddie in the meantime." 

He has been left in the kitchen cleaning up after their dinner and preparing for tomorrow's breakfast. 

"As tempting as it is, I'm sure I'll be out as soon as I lay down," Stevie chuckels. The hours spend travelling and catching up with her friends were finally taking their toll. 

"Well, in that case good night, and I'll see you tomorrow."

"Good night," Stevie answers tiredly, missing the moment when Chrissy leans down and pecks her on the lips. She barely manages to process that fact, before the doors close behind her friend. She smiles to herself before undressing for bed to finally get some rest. 

Stevie's out to the word until late morning the next day, but thankfully, her hosts aren't early birds either. When she gingerly walks downstairs, she's greeted by the sight of the two drinking coffee and making pancakes. Eddie notices her first and waves to her with his spatula. 

"Good morning! I'll have fresh pancakes for you in a minute. How did you sleep?"

"Like an undead," she yawns, beelining for her forgotten bag, where she has a fresh t-shirt to change into. She does so right there, and when she turns back towards the kitchen, her friends act like civilized beings that didn't just ogle her tits. She graciously decides not to call them out for it. 

When she sits next to Chrissy, the girl murmurs an indecipherable greeting, pressing her arm against hers. Stevie gathers her getly against her side. 

"Eddie, you could spare your girlfriend some energy, she's wilting here!"

He turns away from the stove to huff at her. 

"She'd have more energy if she wasn't gathering fruit on her phone until two am," he counters, crossing his arms. His morning outfit consists of an apron tied around his bare chest, a pair of boxers and nothing else. Stevie's never seen all his tattoos out in the open. 

"I like the beholder tattoo," she says.

"Do not," Eddie points his spatula at her. "Talk nerd in the kitchen. It makes me horny and Chrissy said kitchen is off limits," he pouts. 

Stevie snorts, and rests her head against Chrissy. 

"Sorry, I'll keep it to the bedroom next time."

"Thank you," Eddie nods gratefully. "How do you want your coffee?"

"Just a bit of milk, please."

It must have been waiting for her already, beacuse she gets a steaming mug put in front of her just seconds later. 

"Thank you," she sighs, sipping on the coffee. She got it in one of the Garfield mugs, too.

"Of course. And here are yor pancakes. Pick your poison." After putting a stack of pancakes in front of her, he pushes maple syrup, butter and nutella towards her.

"Oh my god. This is the best breakfast I've had since I visited Claudia." 

Eddie laughs at that. 

"Don't get used to it. Tomorrow it's Chrissy's turn on breakfast and she's usually so out of it she can mistake salt for sugar." 

To that, Chrissy flips him the bird, meaning she's at least processing the conversation happening around her. She can also smell the food, and steals a pancake from Stevie's plate to gingerly nibble on. 

"I can help out," Stevie offers, nuzzling her nose against Chrissy's cheek before she straightens up to dig into the breakfast. "What's the plan for today?" she asks while slapping some butter on her pancakes. 

Eddie hums thoughtfully as he pours batter on the pan. "We have all the candy we should need for trick-or-treaters, but we're short on vegetables for pumpkin soup. So think of anything you'd want to eat, we'll make a grocery list, and hit the farmer's market."

Stevie gives him a thumbs up, since her mouth is already stuffed with pancakes. 

The afternoon is spent arguing about the quality of pumpkins offered at the stalls, and what is the ultimate fall soup. It's a level of comfort and easiness Stevie usually feels only around Robin. 

She's not much of a cook, so when Eddie starts on the soup, she joins him in the kitchen, eager to learn. Which translates to her drinking wine and asking a lot of questions while hanging off his shoulder.

"How long do you need to cook the broth?" she asks, unknowingly breathing wine into his air. 

"At least a couple of hours," he answers patiently. "My mom used to leave it simmering for the whole night, though."

Stevie frowns. 

"Sounds like a fire hazard."

Eddie laughs at that. 

"Yeah, a lot of things weren't a concern twenty years ago."

"Yeah, like condoms, considering you're here," she snickers and gets swatted away for her comedic efforts. 

"What, you're not grateful for my existence? Bold words for someone being guested and fed in my home."

"That is not a word," she says with a frown, though being friends with Robin made her second guess her knowledge of the dictionary.

"It is now! Now, would my guest put her wine aside and peel the garlic?"

"Yes, chef," she salutes and accepts the ingredients handed to her. She manages to convince Eddie she's still sober enough to help him chop the vegetables as well. 

"Ohh, he let you hold a knife?" Chrissy walks into the kitchen a moment later and pouts at her boyfriend. "He never lets me help with aything."

"Lies and slander!" Eddie exclaims at that accusation. "You can do literally anything else. Baby, you can even operate a blowtorch, but a knife in her hand," he turns to Stevie for that part, pointing a spoon at Chrissy. "Is like a fidget toy made out of razor blades."

Stevie, though, focuses on the important part.

"You have a blowtorch?"

Eddie groans, but Chrissy is more than happy to show her the little thing they use to toast the marshmallows for their hot cocoa and chocolate. Of course, this ends up with her making some for all of them. Stevie is the one to chop up the chocolate, though. 

The porch has been decorated and all the candy is waiting near the door, because they didn't bother putting it in the cupboards. The food is mostly done, and the movies they agreed on have been found and added to the watch list, so on the actual Halloween the next day, all they have left to do is chill, open the door, compilment kids' costumes, and take in the spooky vibe. As soon as they take out their pies from the oven, they can start on the festivities. 

Or so it seems.

"Shit," Eddie suddenly widens his eyes in the middle of the kitchen.

"What?" Chrissy bends down to peek into the oven, but everything seems fine there. "What is it?"

"What about the costumes?" he looks at her, genuinely alarmed. She frowns at him. 

"We've been over this? You're Crowley and I'm Aziraphale."

"Well, yeah, but now Stevie is here!"

Chrissy looks at the girl with the same therror as her boyfriend, which almost makes her snort out her wine. Which would be horribly wasteful, since she got hers in the horn as promised. 

"Ah, no worries, you've been babbling about the costumes for so long I had enough time to find a white turtleneck and a fly plushie, and the grey suit should be delivered here in the morning." She waves her hand dismissively, but Eddie is anything but dismissive about Halloween costumes. He gapes at his friend in disbelief. 

"I though you haven't seen Good Omens?"

"After all the fuss you made about it?" She rolls her eyes. "Please. I just didn't tell you because you'd freak out about it, and you're talking my ear off as it is." She smiles fondly despite her words. 

"You prepared a matching costume," he says, still in his nerdy trance. 

"Well, yeah? Didn't want to be left out." 

"I'm sorry I didn't think about it myself," he says, looking so guilt-stricken, she was worried he might pick up a knife and commit seppuku at any moment. 

"It's okay, man, you're so good at improvising--"

"Can I kiss you?" Eddie interrupts her, his eyes sparkling in that insane daze she recognised by now from having one too many autistic nerds as friends. 

"Uh," she looks to Chrissy for support, but she seems mildly exasperated at best, focusing more on the pies in the oven than their exchange. It was about time to take them out. 

"I guess so?" Stevie offers in the end, and watches Eddie put away his beer, like kissing her required his full attention. With the focus she could see on his face she would think it did. 

She can't exactly put her horn away. It needs a designated stand to stay upright, and it's somewhere on the kitchen counter behind them. So, in support of her friend's actions, she just puts her free hand on his hip and angles her head when she feels his palm against her cheek. 

His lips are slightly chapped from the autumn cold, and she can remember Chrissy's complaints about him consistently losing every chapstick she buys him. Stevie makes a note to get him a whole shipment of those for Christmas. She likes the lips that kiss her to be soft. 

Other than that, he's almost ridiculously gentle, unlike the persona he puts on for the world to see. It's easy to imagine him making out with someone, with Chrissy, for hours without getting bored. 

But Stevie likes more, so she parts her lips and pulls his hip closer to her. They both get lost in their impromptu make-out session until the smell of fresh pie reaches their nostrils. Eddie pulls away first, sniffing the air, and when Stevie follows his lead, Chrissy bursts out laughing at their accidental synchronization.

"It's too hot to eat, sorry," she spreads her hands apologetically. "But I have some cookies for the meantime." 

They move apart to dive into the jar of chocolate chip cookies that's presented to them. With pies cooling on the rack and cookies in their hands, they relocate to the living room to play one of the movies from their list. They pick a mindless slasher to turn off their brains after a day of cooking and other preparations.

The conversatiom focuses on the characters' bad choices and the highly unrealistic injuries, until two girls start making-out on screen.

"You know I've never watched your video?" Eddie says then, unprompted. 

Stevie and Chrissy turn to him in unison. 

"What?"

"Really?'

Eddie shrugs at their bewildered stares. 

"I don't know, it felt weird. I never saw Stevie in such, uh, circumstances, and she's paying me, so..." he trails off and shrugs again. "You know I don't watch all of your stuff," he adds, almost defensively.

"Which is very unsupportive of you," she says with an exaggerated pout so he knows she's joking. 

"I'm not watching you get fucked in those shitty amazon costumes, those are an insult to cosplayers worldwide!" he says and it sounds like something he's complained about before. "And did you have to do Jarley? You know we ship Harlivy in this house!"

Chrissy looks like she's doing her best not to laugh and Stevie's barely holding on herself. 

"I'm sorry, you know I couldn't find the right girl in time. And I've already made scenes with Gareth--"

"The fact that he agreed to this is even worse!"

Stevie presses a hand over her lips this time, to muffle her laugh. Eddie glowers at her over Chrissy's shoulder when she reaches for the remote. 

"Wanna watch it now?" she asks, already pausing the movie.

"What?"

"We're all here now, so it's not gonna be weird," Chrissy says, exiting out of the streaming platform. Her friends seem too stunned to stop her. 

"Or it will be extra weird," Eddie points out, but his girlfriend only waves him off. 

"Psh, like we haven't watched my videos before." As if to prove that, her Fansly pops up instantly once she opens the browser. "So?" She looks left and right at her company, waiting for the green light from them.

Like Eddie could ever say no faced with the cover photo of her page--her naked, delicate body covered up by a sword blade. 

"Sure," Stevie shrugs, and Eddie nods along.

"Yeah, let's do it."

[silentmagi]

Rising Star

Main Page

I’m so happy to see you are still enjoying the story, and hope that you continue to join the experiment. Also if you could share it with others, I’d be very grateful. I’d also appreciate some feedback or just a chance to talk about this story.

It’s time to find out what the headmistress, we had a tie between the following:

Scolding her for leaving without permission.

Family news - bad

Yep, it’s time to get into it.

“Do you know the kind of trouble you caused by going off on your own without giving us time to get guards to escort you, or at least someone else to go with you?” the headmistress asked after the pleasantries and introductions were over. “Honestly, did you even listen to me when I said we had to wait?”

“If we waited, we wouldn’t have gotten the books in the cart that I was able to get,” Star defended, annoyance clear in her voice as she was being scolded like a child in front of Luna.

Celeste turned to her, letting out a deep sigh. “Listen, I know you’re upset, and while gathering those books may be important… your father is back.”

That sapped any argument from Star, she stilled long enough to glance over at Luna before clearing her throat. “Are- Are you sure? I thought…”

“I know, we thought with him being… elsewhere… he wouldn’t be able to return, even with the ward spells down.”

“Should I step out?” Luna asked, sensing a tension that comes with family drama.

Celeste paused, glancing at Luna, before turning to Star with a raised eyebrow. Star bit her lip, lowering her eyes, before taking a deep breath and nodding. “She should know…”

“I suppose as our guest and as a friend of Star’s that’s true, Miss Luna,” the headmistress began, taking the glasses off and setting them on a stack of books as she rubbed her eyes. “Star’s father was engaged in some rather… questionable projects with other mages before the Catastrophe, and while we drove him away, we fear that he is going to target the source of the leak of his activities.”

“I didn’t even know it was something bad, I just asked Aunt Celeste about what type of magic needed bodies from the graveyard, and that started the investigation. He fled before the guards could capture him, and as I had shown magical prowess, I was put into the academy. I didn’t even think… I thought he went to another plane, and wasn’t able to come back to the kingdom.”

Luna looked between them, a thoughtful expression on her face as she looked back and forth. After a few minutes, Celeste spoke up. “While we have not had reports of him being near Castledale, he is in the kingdom, and not under arrest. The dark magics he was researching are dangerous and with our arsenal weakened, it’s dangerous for her to be out and alone.”

“Well then, I think that has a simple solution. I will remain with her at all times, and she is going to be sifting through all those books, which I daresay may need some translating or repair in the notes. So, she can work here at the academy, and I can stay with her to keep her safer. Doesn’t that sound like a possible plan?”

Celeste studied the bard with a curious expression, her eyes lingering on the blade at her side, and tapped her cheek while nestling her chin in the thumb of the same hand. “A very good suggestion, I will expect progress reports, and you follow the novice schedule.”

“WHAT!?” Star shouted in offense. That schedule was only two hours of research at a time, with breaks between each of four periods. No later than 8 in the library, and  a mandatory morning exercise peri- okay, not she somewhat agreed with that one. She had noticed that the physical exertion had helped her focus a little bit more during the day.

But she could still get more done, why was she being… oh right, the leaving the campus unescorted.

Celeste let the gravity of the situation sink in, as she watched her niece with a small smile. “Yes, I believe that for the next few weeks, that will be your punishment.”

Luna almost let out a laugh at the pout that Star got when she found that she wasn’t able to debate her way out of this. At least she was going to be able to do the research… however, if her father really was back.

Things were not looking up.

However, as they are in the relative safety of Castledale, it was time to start the real work on translating and researching the books and scrolls that had been gathered.

What will she find?

Book needing translated is about the origins of Castledale Academia

Constantly being diverted by side projects

That she enjoys spending time outside of research with Luna

A black cat with golden eyes following her around

[love-minor-poltergeist]

Hello polter! What do you think about the new cuphead dlc? I told myself I wasn’t going to fall for Chef Saltbaker, but i was very wrong. Could we please have some headcanons sometime?

A/N: Man you could really tell how far behind I am on some of these requests– man, I didn’t even know how long I’ve been in this rut until now. Especially since the DLC came out 2 years ago. Even as I am typing out this little note, I can’t help but grimace and feel awful for only now getting to this (シ〒﹏〒))シ

Now, I wasn’t sure if this was referring to just general headcanons or x reader ones, so I decided to go for the former for the time being!

General Chef Saltbaker Hcs:

┌── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┐

Even before his scheme to finally bake the Wondertart came to light, the residents of Inkwell Isle Four sensed something was… off about Chef Saltbaker. The way his  jolly smiles didn’t quite reach his eyes; how he’d often lash out at random intervals before suddenly slipping his cheerful mask on; the numerous backhanded remarks he’d dole out to customers— and god forbid he becomes passive aggressive. 

Point is, he wasn’t really a friendly fellow to begin with– and everyone was able to catch on relatively quickly. However, there was a tense, silent agreement between the other Island denizens and Chef Saltbaker: they stay out of his business, and he’ll play nice. And with gourmet treats to sweeten the pot, it’s enough to make most people look the other way. 

He kept his life incredibly private prior to his rehabilitation. Chef Saltbaker wasn’t originally from the fourth Isle, having quietly set up his bakery to little fanfare. The man hardly ever left the building, either. During the late hours of the night, long after closing hours, a few onlookers even caught him opening the door that led to the basement of the bakery; leading to a few crazed conspiracies and theories of what exactly he did down there.

Granted, considering how Saltbaker had a lab down there, they weren’t wrong. But he also just had a nook that he lived in. Rent could be expensive in the city blocks of the Isle. He’d rather spend most of his budget towards ingredients, so living within the bakery was just naturally the better option. 

Honestly, baking the Wondertart was the culmination of a series of unfortunate events. A struggling career in the culinary arts, years of being taken advantage of by restaurant owners– who dangled the empty promise of a promotion if he just was more passionate, constant stress over meeting rent, funding the bakery, and himself, rude customers; it could go on forever. After continuous disappointment and admittedly isolating himself, it was easy to see why he went a little, ah, mad. 

Saltbaker’s gotten a lot better though! Albeit, there’s still remnants of that bitter, passive aggressive (hell, even just normal aggressive) personality lurking underneath his much more positive self. Now that he has gained the trust and friendship of the Isle denizens– finally gaining a sense of belonging and community he didn’t know he was missing– he’s calmed down significantly. 

Complete and utter neat freak about his kitchen. Organizes all ingredients and spices alphabetically and dedicates separate drawers to each cooking utensil. Not to mention that at the end of each shift, he’ll make sure that the kitchen is absolutely spotless. He does not care if it’ll take him an extra hour; if everything is not in order like he left it, he’ll go mad. 

After doing community service, Saltbaker mostly just uses his laboratory to experiment with different flavors and batters for his deserts. Some of his concoctions range from mere enhancements to common flavors like strawberry to exotic flavors like dragon fruit or lychee. He’s open to new flavors!

While his large, pot-bellied frame may not look it, Chef Saltbaker is incredibly fast. When you’re working a one-man show and have a line of customers waiting for their orders, it’s completely necessary for him. Granted, a lot of the people who come in are usually complete sweethearts and are willing to wait. Nevertheless, the man’s practically a blur as he’s speeding from station to station, kneading dough one second and then preparing a batch of frosting the next. If he finds himself needing extra help, he’ll usually use magic or conjure up a salt clone. 

Though the latter doesn’t happen all too often since said clones tend to make his desserts much saltier than he would like.

Food gore makes him irrevocably angry and stressed out. Why on earth would you show him this? Saltbaker already hated wasting food, but downright ugly food or disgusting looking combos will genuinely mess him up for the rest of the day. Same thing with those images of people gripping their food too tightly. The first time Cuphead did it to an eclair in the bakery, it took every muscle of self restraint for Saltbaker to not jump over that counter and clobber a child to death. 

Speaking of, don’t ever suggest to add breadbowls to the menu in front of him. He took pride in baking that loaf of bread and you want him to massacre it?! How very dare you. He doesn’t care if it’s a popular trend, he’ll sooner slap the person who asked than waste a crumb of that bread. 

Incredibly strong, but that’s a given. The man kneads dough by hand all day and usually carries in crates and heavy bags full of groceries into the bakery. Could pick up around five grown men with ease. 

Ms. Chalice usually pops in to get extra cookies, and will often offer to help out where she can in the kitchen. She and Chef Saltbaker were kind of awkward around each other for a bit– given the whole “Hey I lied to you and your friends and tried to steal their soul” bit. However, after some time, they’re comfortable around each other to the point where you’d usually overhear their banter while they work. 

“Oh, come now, Saltbaker! You can’t put a price to our friendship!”

“Yes I can, dear. Fifty dollars.”

└── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┘

[bowieandqueen11]

Celebrating Roman Roy’s Birthday Would Include...

Request: OOOOOH i have one if you don't mind. how about hcs for celebrating roman's birthday? cause as we know when it comes to roys there's inevitably Something Traumatic happening on every holiday, i just want him to have a good day with someone who loves him🥺

Love honestly so true he deserves someone to just love him without condition :( I am FEELING

Warning: strong language, implied eating disorder and mentions of childhood mental/physical abuse!

(I do not own Succession or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @bettercallgerri.)

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°

Roman Roy decided very early on the day to make an incredibly sensible decision. For the next twenty three and a half hours, he was going to ignore his phone every time it started vibrating in his jacket pocket, and irritated the skin against his breast. He was going to squeeze his eyes shut, and pick at his fingernails when at one in the afternoon, on the dot, his sister would send exactly the same generic fruit basket for his birthday as she did the previous year. He would crinkle his nose in irritation when the eldest Roy sent him a comic voicemail about how ‘he was still that little pup that threw a fish at him’ during their camping trip, despite his age.

And worst of all, and perhaps the most difficult for Roman Roy, he wasn’t going to feel depressed once about how his father had forgotten his birthday again. Well, not until he received the stereotypical rushed job of a blank card and sloppy signature of his father typed at the bottom the next day, sent as if he were signing a cheque. He wrote it off as being just another transaction: signing away all the love he owed Roman, justifying it as the price one has to pay for success. Only then would Roman allow himself to excuse off to the bathroom for a moment, before curling up into a ball and crying into his knees as he had done for every birthday he could remember.

He just wanted to spend one day: one single, solitary, sought after, scorned day to spend with the one person in his life he had always loved without hesitation. With the only person who truly saw him. Who loved him for who he was right now, and who, you knew, he should be. So, he decided the rest of his family could go fuck themselves for a meagre twenty four hours, while he made the most of snuggling up to you in bed.

Roman’s always been a naturally restive man at heart, and so it wasn’t long until that little goblin smirk of his came peering past the duvet and over your shoulder. 

‘You know what?’, he murmured, resting his elbow by his head so he could turn and lie facing you properly. ‘Fuck it. We should just, I don’t fucking know, stay here all day until we have become one with the comforter.’ 

‘As lovely as that sounds’, you stretch up and groan, slapping Roman’s hand away as he reaches up to tickle under your armpit. ‘I have plans, I’m afraid.’

‘You- fucking- what? You have plans, are you fucking me right now?’ For a second he jumps up, his eyes squinting as he stares at you crestfallen. But then he sees the smile you’re trying to hide twitch at the corner of your lips, and he falls back down onto the mattress unceremoniously. While he reaches around and tries to thump you in the face with his pillow, you take the opportunity to wrestle his arm and loop it around your own. He gladly gives in, settling down next to you again as you continue: ‘I may have plans, but you’re very welcome to join in with them. If you’re nice to me, that is.’

‘I’m always fucking nice to you’, Roman mutters, but he reaches up to accept the kiss you’re trying to place on the side of his stubble. ‘Good’, you turn back to look at the alarm clock on your bedside table, ‘because we have to be up and out in approximately fifteen minutes.’

‘You are full of fucking surprises, you know that? God, I love you.’

Ever since you and Roman were seven years old, and his father had hit him for the first time after sneaking you up the side of his bedroom window for a sleepover his father had strictly forbidden, as he deemed Roman getting up bright and early for his fencing lessons the next morning to be far more important, you had kept a list in your head of all the mundane things Roman had been punished for as a child. Every birthday since then, you tried to strike one off the list, and this year you had decided to plan ahead, and asked Karolina to hire out a park for you a couple of states away for a water fight. 

It was silly, and stupid, and childish, but when Roman sauntered into the kitchen after his shower and saw you trying to shove pretty hefty super soakers into your backpack, his face lit up like a child’s on Christmas morning. Hence the two of you flying off in your own private helicopter, trying to place a little wriggle room between Roman and the rest of the Roys; you felt almost ridiculous for a moment, whizzing past buildings and waving treelines with only a couple of water guns on you, but Roman was gripping onto your fingers so tightly the whole journey that the embarrassment flooded away. The whole time, his foot was tapping against the edge of yours like a wasp’s sting, his bottom lip nearly bloody from how hard he was chewing it. Whether it was from anticipation, or whether he had the foresight to anticipate the abuse he was going to garner from his father for the wasted journey and tabloid pictures you didn’t know. You held his hand back just as tightly, praying for him to have just one happy day.

Thankfully, once you arrived, Roman literally leapt out of the helicopter like some kind of Doberman. He shrugged off his coat and threw it back into the cabin, before rustling in the bag to grab his loot. Before you could even question what he was doing, a chilled gust of water came splatting you straight up the face, and hurtling you backwards. Let’s just say, Roman’s high pitched hyena laugh was heard all around the fringes of the daisy-strewn field, as he went skidding across the blades like a wanted criminal.

Sometimes, you would hold your hands up as if in defeat, and he would come strutting over to you with his gun in the air and one hand on his waist. Stating that you had run out of water, you wanted to wipe that smug smile off his face as he came and tried to pull your hands behind your back. He walked you both backwards until you were pinned against the tree, and although he’s doing his best to look all sexy, and mysterious, and sheriff like as he tries to unlatch your fingers slowly from the triggers, it was a huge mistake. Using the distraction, you pull his own gun from him and pull his shirt forward, spraying water straight down his bare chest.

‘Oh, you fucker!’

If anyone could see the two of you: sprinting about like children in the mud, not caring as bits of wet dirt skidded up and stained your suit shirts. Parading through the flowers, laughter pealing like bells wherever you went. They would think you were free, and perhaps, for a moment, you both were.

At one point Roman comes swinging down from an oak tree and scares the living absolute fuck out of you. For a second he looks afraid: that remnant of his father’s ‘love’ making him feel sick to his stomach, but that is quickly alleviated when you come over and trace down the slight stubble of his neck. Your pointer finger comes to trace up his chin, and then over the top of his lip, before you lean up and gently melt your lips against his awaiting ones.

The two of you decide (once you’ve managed to unlatch spider monkey from you) to swing your legs up over the tree branch and sit up there for a while, like you used to do when you were teenagers sickly sweet in a hidden, reciprocated love. Back in the days when Roman would carry himself, wounded and crying, to trudge around his father’s estate and find wherever your newest hidie-hole from the world was. It didn’t matter if it was underneath one of the neighbouring orchard trees, or out sitting on a lounge chair on his bedroom balcony, or tucked up inside one of the pool sheds, hidden between unused surfboards and half-chewed pool noodles, Roman had a sixth sense when it came to finding you. You, too, always knew he was coming: mainly from the sound of impeding sniffles, and you had your arm out and ready for him to come curl up into. Against his side, he would crest himself like the fallen son, trying to make himself as small a target as possible against your chest. 

Sometimes you would tuck a book out from your bag and read to him. Other times, the two of you would just chatter like soft sunlight amidst the dark blots of his father’s pristine possessions. Most of all, Roman would usually fall into an uneasy sleep against your neck, and would only rise again once the irritated call of his newest nanny rang out from the veranda.

It had taken him a while to realise he could feel safe in your arms, rather than just hide away, but when he did, he would rest his head on your shoulder and wish he could stay alone with you forever.

So he was more than delighted to re-enact his favourite parts of his childhood with you, even if he can’t fully settle his whole heart into it. You try your best to seem as nonchalant as ever: leaning your head back until it scratches on the bark, swinging one leg over until it catches the sharp gleam of the cresting mid-afternoon sun. Roman’s hunched over, sitting in between your legs, and although he’s being set alight with some kind of giddiness that he can freely be with you now without having to hide, his body’s response is still set to flight or fight. His fingers dance over your legs like a skimming dragonfly, running over the inseams before landing on your ankles and squeezing. 

Becoming over alert of how his eyes keep darting away from you, as if he’s still awaiting the strike he knows is punishment for daring to show love towards anyone, you reach out for him. After an awkward moment of manoeuvring, the two of you manage to reach an agreement on how to sit: you still leaning back, and Roman now lying against your chest, with his legs straight out against the skittish twigs. He looks ethereal against the soft rolls of honey that seemed to drape around the two of you, the crimson burnt fringes of the leaves protecting him from the outside world. And yet Roman still jumps when he feels your fingers brush against the edge of his face, as if you had been trying to burn him. 

It’s taken time. It takes time. It will take time. But to you, using all the understanding and patience in the world would be worth it, if it allowed Roman Roy to live. So you just hold him around the waist, and wait for him to become comfortable. You whisper quotes from your favourite books into his ears, and the sky slowly begins to roll over with lavender and a deep blushing maroon, you tell him about the new memes online from Connor’s campaign. He snorts at that, almost twitching awake in your grasp, but you appreciate the way he tries by leaning backwards and languidly blinking, pressing a brushing kiss against your bottom lip.

Before the two of you return home, he decides he wants to see how ‘the peasants live’ by eating in a normal restaurant. Although he shudders at your implication that he’s turning into Cousin Greg, it ends up being one of the happiest dining experiences of his life. Roman had always had a difficult relationship with food: between his mother’s teasing about his looks at the dining table when he was a toddler, to his father smacking him for bad table manners, to every adult dinner party revolving around sub-plots and back-stabbing, he’d found it all difficult to swallow. Being with you, thankfully, made the experience a little easier.

He even found himself laughing when the sushi you had tried to feed him with your chopsticks came flopping down onto the table in a mushed heap of rice and wasabi, and the joy didn’t leave his face as you came up to cradle his face and wipe bits of salmon away from the lines of his lips. The whole time, he was incredibly aware of how carelessly he allowed his knee to rest against your own; he was conscious of how other customers might notice the way he held your hand over the bar stools between courses, but for the first time in his life, he allowed himself the freedom not to care.

One of the waitresses makes a comment about how sweet the two of you look together on the way out, and oh my god does Roman ride that high the whole way back to the park. Cue him being a full peachy, blubbering, hyper mess, with giggles only a dog could hear slipping out of his mouth every ten metres down the pavements.

You give him his present when you get home: you’d collated over the last couple of months some of your favourite pictures, both of you and Roman over the years, as well as full family shots. You had asked Connor, Kendall and Shiv to add some of their favourite memories in the margins of the shots, until the black and white photobook was bursting with neatly looped letters and little drawings of dicks (kindly added by Ken.)

Roman chokes when he sees it. He fists his hand into his mouth, shrugging as his eyes widen, brimming with tears as he flips through the pages. He starts getting over hyper, repeating over and over and over again that ‘yeah, yeah- it’s nice, I like it’, because he thinks it’s some kind of trick. Because he can’t handle the thought of his siblings loving him without some sort of condition. Because just one kind word it’s what he’s been seeking from them his whole life, and your eyes widen in horror as you realise why he’s taking a step backwards. Why his bottom lip is jutting out. Why he looks like a noose is tightening around his neck. You glance down, and you can see it in all the pictures: in every frame, his siblings are looking dead-on, deadpan into the camera, and he’s glancing up at them. In the pictures with you, he’s clearly choking down the love that’s bursting out of his every being as he gazes at you in every. single. one. 

It guts you to realise it’s taking you so long to reciprocate just a little of that love that’s been suffocating him his whole life.

He regresses into Logan Roy mode, and it breaks your heart all the more; he wanders over to the cabinet to pour a tumbler of whiskey for the two of you, before settling himself down on the edge of the settee. He pulls out his phone, getting prepared to come back to himself: to scroll through the news channel and chat with you about the events he’d missed while taking a few hours off for himself.

Yet he doesn’t complain when you tenderly take his hand, choosing instead not to let him wallow. You lead him over to one of the armchairs over looking the cityscape, pushing on his chest until he collapses down into it. With a content sigh, he watches you go choose a book from the collection you had curated by the television, before coming back to squeeze yourself in beside him. He’s half sitting on your lap, but neither of you really give a stuff as he winds his arms around your neck and settles against your heartbeat. With his head on your collar bone, and your finger mindlessly drawing patterns in the tufts of hair behind his ear, you begin to read aloud to him. From time to time you peer behind the spine and catch his eye, and it makes you fumble over your words a little when you spot him. He’s gazing up at you as if you were perfection incarnate, and for the first time in his sorrowful life, Roman Roy begins his next year on this planet with one hopeful thought smacking around the inside of his head: perhaps this year, he won’t have to suffer just for being Roman.

[seenoversundown]

For Death Or Glory : Chapter Thirteen

Jake Kiszka x Charlotte (Fem OC)

Warnings: 18+ Smut (a small amount of masturbation) Alcohol / Drinking, Suggestive conversations, dicking around on the job, Mentions of Sexual preferences, Flirting, Fluff, terrible dad jokes, and unfortunate amounts of pirate comments.

Word Count: 4k

Summary: Jake is still reeling from the events of the night before, when Charlotte rolls up with a wonderful proposition that he could NEVER refuse. Leading them into a fun game that helps him get through the rest of the night.

Author's Note: THE GAMES HAVE BEGUN. They really are so precious and watching them learn how to interact with each other has me giggling and kicking my feet. (even though I'm quite literally in charge of them 💀) Can't wait to hear how you guys feel after this one!! 💕😍

Bathroom Light - Mt Joy "So, come on, baby, let's do this right, I think I like falling in love in the bar bathroom light."

“I feel like we should talk.” 

Not my favorite thing she’s said to me, if we’re being honest. Charlotte’s leant against the doorframe to my office, her hands are busy playing with the dainty rings she has on. 

“Okay,” I say, “you can come all the way into the room though.” She scurried in, shutting the door quietly behind her. 

“I don’t know how to say this,” she starts, sounding timid, which is unusual for her. 

I can’t stop myself from speaking up, “Did I overstep?” 

“Oh my god, no. No, not at all,” she spits out. “I actually.. um.” She looks back down at her hands, a small grin grows on her face. 

My eyebrow pops up, waiting for her, “What?” Comes out with a slight laugh. 

“Maybe we could be friends who, like..” her face turning red as she whispers, “maybe hook up sometimes..” 

We’re friends? She wants to - with me? I- oh my god. 

“Oh,” I can hardly form words with the speed my brain is moving at, “Oh, uh, we can. Yes. I would be okay with that.” My eyes finally met hers, knowing full well that I probably look far too excited. 

“Really?” 

I watch her chew the inside of her lip and see her hands shake slightly, which honestly makes me feel a bit better. At least I'm not the only one who gets nervous. I reach out, grabbing one of her hands with both of mine, which gets her to look back at me. 

“Really,” I say quietly, “Whatever you're comfortable with.” Finally standing up from my desk, she just looks at me, and I can’t quite tell what's going on inside that pretty little head of hers. 

Suddenly her arms are wrapped around my neck in a hug, catching me off guard. I let my arms sit around her waist as she lets out the sweetest little laugh next to my ear. 

“You’re sure about this?” she asks, leaning back to look at me. I get to spend more time with her and possibly get laid once in a while? YEAH, I THINK I’M SURE. 

“You can be the Captain of this ship,” I tell her, choking back a laugh as hard as I can. 

She does not; she drops her head, leaning against me as she barks out a laugh. Her small frame just shook against me, but at least this time, it was happy. 

Still laughing, she looks back up at me, “You’re so dumb,” she manages to get out before leaning forward to press a sweet kiss on my lips. I could get used to that.  ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

I didn’t anticipate the torture that I would endure after that conversation, having to be around her in the bar and stay normal about it. She already made me feel on edge, in a good way, before the last twenty-four hours, but now it’s ungodly how tense my body feels. 

I try to spend as much time cleaning and talking to the regulars that have come in, but I continuously find myself looking at her. I just want to talk to her. 

I pull out my phone, quickly type out a message, and slide it under the bar in front of me. 

Me: so.. does this mean I can just.. kiss you if we’re not around people?

My hands sweat at the thought, but god, what I’d give to kiss her again right now. I glance over as she picks her phone up, seeing the smirk creep onto her face. Looking around the bar to see if anybody might need something until my phone lights up. 

Charlotte: I'd like that. 🤭

Charlotte: You have a pretty mouth, so I think we should. 

Feeling warm at the compliment. A pretty mouth? I had been told on a multitude of occasions that I’m a bit more feminine, but given that my counterpart is Josh, who keeps his hair short and has facial hair, I don’t think I had much of a fighting chance. But I’ve never been complimented like that before, and I think I liked it.  

Me: play along 

I walk over to where she’s sitting, and her eyebrows pull in for a second looking at me. Sliding carefully behind Mel and Josh, I lean against the bar facing her. 

“Can you come with me? I need your opinion on if something is up to code,” I tell her, my voice at a normal volume but giving her a slow wink. 

“Oh, absolutely,” she replies, “Mel, I’ll be right back.” 

I meet her at the end of the bar, gesturing toward the hallway and leading her to our cooler. Once we’re out of sight, sticking my hand out behind me for her which she immediately grabs. We round the corner into the back room, and I turn to face her, pulling her into me. Tilting her chin up with my free hand, seeing her smile as I do. 

“Hi,” she mumbles, pressing a kiss against my lips. 

Letting out a small ‘mmm’ as my arms rest around her waist, “Let me just—“ Leaning in, noticing the way she doesn’t actually close her eyes. She just watches my mouth. Feeling her hands find their place on my stomach as I take her bottom lip between mine, making my heart shake. I wonder what makes her feel like this. Pulling my arms back slightly, letting my hands hold her waist, lightly squeezing her when I feel her hands grab my shirt. That must be something. 

“So, about that opinion,” I whisper into her, making her giggle. She reaches up, wiping the smudge of lipstick she left on me, and my stomach turns at how gentle she is.

Her eyes slowly look up, meeting my stare as she lets out a quiet, “I think that exceeds the standard, for sure.” 

We both hear footsteps in the hall; backing away from her quickly and folding my arms across my chest as she nods when Mel rounds the corner into the cooler.

“Jake, the POS is living up to its name.. Can you help?” she rolls her eyes, clearly frustrated. 

“Shit, yeah, I’ll be right there.” 

We both watch as Mel quickly turns, leaving the room looking fairly defeated. Standing there in silence for a matter of a few seconds before we both let out a quiet laugh. 

“I guess I need to do my job,” I whisper to her, making her smile. She turns to face me, fixing my shirt for me and moving a rogue hair back into place. Her hands linger on my chest as she looks at me, which only makes the butterflies in my stomach go wild. 

The smirk on her face is killing me when she says, “Go save them, boss man.” 

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The bar continued to get busier, making it harder and harder for me to not actually do my job. Almost as if flirting with pretty girls isn’t in my job description or something. Stealing little glances at her any chance I could while we quietly texted each other random things. 

Charlotte: You have to stop looking at me like that 

I grab the empty glasses from a table, walking back towards the bar but sneaking up behind her. 

“Like what?” I whisper next to her ear, setting the glasses on the bar top in front of her. Giggling as she jumps slightly, scowling at me, but that doesn’t stop my stare. It would be easier if she wasn’t gorgeous. My eyes fell between her lips and holding eye contact.  

“That,” she whispers back, “whatever that is.”  She leans into her hand while the other falls into her lap. 

“You don’t like it?” I ask, forcing myself to stay focused on her eyes. Leaning onto the bar next to her, letting my hand hang over the edge. 

She smiled softly, “No, it’s terrible,” oozing with sarcasm fell from her lips, feeling her hand graze mine. 

My head tilts slightly as my eyebrows raise, “and why is that, honey?” I whisper, pulling my bottom lip in with my teeth, watching as her face flushes. 

Forcing myself to back up, grabbing the glasses as I go, what I wouldn't give to just spend the night with her instead? 

Me: do you like being called honey? 

I set my phone under the bar, pouring a few drinks for the regulars sitting there, trying not to look over at her, but it’s impossible. Glancing out of the corner of my eye, I see her pulling up her phone. What if she hates it? 

Charlotte: Mmmm I might 🤭

I'll never be sure what possessed me to call her that the first time. I've always just used ‘sweetheart’ or ‘dear’ because they feel safe and really can’t be taken too out of context. Also, to be entirely honest, I typically don’t get far enough with a girl to give her a cuter pet name than those.  It just sort of came out when I saw her start to melt down, and it’s stuck. 

Charlotte: Do you like that I use your full name? 

Her sweet voice calling me ‘Jacob’ plays in my head on a loop, so it’s safe to say I don’t mind it. Although, the way she called me ‘baby’ made me want to crawl out of my skin. She had me wrapped around her finger in that moment.  

Me: you can call me whatever your heart desires 

I looked over at her, saw her smile at the response, and quickly started to type. This game of twenty questions is definitely making tonight go by a little faster. 

Charlotte: That doesn’t really roll off the tongue nicely- I think I’ll stick with calling you by name or baby 😉

I audibly laugh at her text, unprepared for her to get me with a classic dad joke. It was almost enough to distract me from the last part, but no such luck as my heart fluttered at the pet name. I could go for hearing that a little more often. Wandering over towards her, I lean down as I grab the glass from in front of her and whisper, “You’re more than welcome to slip a ‘Captain’ in the mix as well, yknow?” 

She leans into her hand, propped up on the bar, “So, you do like that, huh?” 

“Felt a little different coming out of you,” I tell her, shrugging as I back up a little and biting the inside of my lip as she watches me. 

Her eyes rake down me before letting out a quiet, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

I help Josh for a few minutes, pouring a handful of drinks for some regulars and running to grab orders from a few of the new tables that just came in. Rounding back behind the bar, I slide my phone out of my pocket quickly. 

Me: since we’re doing this- do you have questions or shall I continue 

Tossing my phone under the bar, turning to wash a handful of glasses for them. I try to just focus on what I’m doing. But I just want to pay attention to her. I turn around as I’m drying and putting away the glasses, doing my best to scan the room for anybody who may need anything. My eyes fixate on her as she sets her phone down and looks over at me. I pick up my pace drying, sliding the glasses onto their shelf quickly so I can grab my phone, needing to know what she said. 

Charlotte: I’m assuming you’re a physical touch person? 

Me: you would be correct but I’d like to say I can cover all the bases if you like something else more. 

I’ve always been a touch person, especially given that I’ve spent my whole life with Josh. He can’t go two seconds without grabbing your arm if he’s telling you something. So, it’s definitely something I’d developed over time and also suffered from; the lack of physical touch I’ve had in the last couple of years is contributing to the urge to ask her every two minutes to meet me somewhere hidden. Even though I would do whatever she prefers, I just hope she enjoys physical touch because I don’t know how I’m supposed to avoid it. 

Charlotte: Oh, touch is near the top with words of affirmation for me, so I think you’re doing just fine 

Knowing she likes words of affirmation makes my stomach knot up, the amount of things I’ve held back because I don’t want to overwhelm her. But I’ll tell her that she’s the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen every day if she’ll let me. Despite the fact she was just being open, I decided to test the waters on this situation we’ve put ourselves in. 

Me: soo.. does that mean you like to be..reassured or no?

Hitting send, I immediately feel like I’m sweating. I pour a few beers waiting for her reply, hoping that she knows what I meant and that she doesn’t take back everything she said in my office today. 

Charlotte: A little praise never hurt anybody.

I whip my head over to her, and my hand wipes over my mouth as she smiles at me. The fact I’m blushing over the answer to the question I asked feels ridiculous. Why did I think this was a good idea? Making eye contact with someone at the bar who wants to order, I walk over to them. Taking their order and turning to grab all the bottles needed for it, I slide my phone from my pocket, setting it on the counter as she texts me again.  

Charlotte: Do you always like to be the Captain? Or do you like to let others assist? 

My eyes shut while I take a deeper breath; why is she doing this to me? Forcing myself to focus on mixing their drink, but my brain feels like it’s short-circuiting. She did have a little dominant streak in her yesterday. I grab a napkin and bring the drink back over to them, nodding as they thank me. 

‘All for me, baby?’ plays in my head, and I guess I had never thought about preferences like that before. Most girls I had been with at this point wanted nothing to do with being in control. I also was typically not the most sober in these instances, so it’s debatable how dominant I even was. They just wanted me to do the work, which in the grand scheme, was fine. 

The way that she wants to have control makes my body tingle. Something about the idea of her telling me what she wants me to do is kind of hot. She basically had me begging for her yesterday, so maybe I’m a bit more submissive than I thought. I get head one time, and I’m reflecting on my entire sex life. Jesus Christ, chill out. 

Me: I’ll gladly let you steer anyday, don’t have to ask twice 

I wipe down the back counter, reorganizing a bit, anything to keep my brain from spiraling out of control over her. I wash some glasses in painfully hot water in hopes that it’ll prevent anything uncomfortable from happening to me while I’m just trying to get through this shift with her. 

After a few minutes of torture, I pick up my phone again. 

Charlotte: In that case, meet me in the bathroom? 

I’ve never replied faster.

Me: 🫡  ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

“Couldn’t wait any longer?” Winking at her as I lock the door behind me. 

Her smile is devious as she runs her hands up my chest, “When you look like this? Not at all.” Tugging me closer by my shirt, tilting her head back as I lean in to kiss her. 

All I can think is how lucky I am that I’m in this weird little situation with her. The fact that she’s communicating things to me, even if we’re doing it in a kind of vague way, makes me feel a little more confident with anything that’s potentially going to happen. 

Pulling away from the kiss for a second, I gently move some hair away from her face, just taking her in. My other hand is holding her lower back, keeping her close. The way she’s looking at me makes my heart pound. 

“Can I ask you something while we're here?” I mumble, watching her eyebrows pull together. 

“Obviously.” 

“I just want to hear your response to this one,” I start. “Can you promise me that if I say or do something that you don’t like, you’ll tell me?” 

Her eyes softened at the question. Her hands grabbed the sides of my face as she pressed a soft peck against my lips.

“Of course, I will. Promise.” 

“I never want to make you uncomfortable,” I mumble against her, “okay?” 

Her soft laugh against my lips before pressing a few sweet kisses into me, I swear this girl could get me to fold so easily. 

“You really are something, Jacob.” 

My stomach flips as the sentence leaves her lips. My heartbeat felt stronger than before, and my mouth basically ran dry; what is she doing to me? The look in her eyes as we stared at each other in the subtle glow of the light, even after the past few days, I’d be lying if I said she didn’t still make me nervous. Every kiss makes it feel like there are fireworks in my chest and a ton of excited butterflies in my stomach; my entire body gets warm, and I have to fight the slight tremor in my hands, so she doesn’t know. But god, this girl has me stumbling over myself every day.

“What if we just stay in here for the rest of the night?” I whisper into her.

Her hands slid down onto my stomach, “I think they might notice we’ve disappeared.” 

“Unfortunate, innit?” the English accent sneaking out of me, making her laugh. If that’s all it takes, I’ll use it more. “Why don’t you go back out there first? I’ll go to the backroom first, so it’s more convincing.” 

“Sounds like a plan, Captain,” she winks as she pats my stomach and then quickly sneaks out the door. Leaving me there, speechless, staring at the door for a moment. I think I just tripped.

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I hid in the backroom for a few minutes, bringing out a handful of things to restock with. I try to wipe the smile off my face when I can feel her eyes on me. I have Mel run to the tables and get some drink orders taken care of; she’s been trapped behind the bar all night, at least get her a few minutes of a new scenery. 

It feels nice to make drinks mindlessly for customers sometimes. The muscle memory starts to kick in, and I can just go for a while. It’s just a bonus having Charlotte sitting at the end of the bar, intently watching every move I make.

“Aren’t you supposed to be watching Melody?” I tease, sliding a drink to her. 

Her hands rake through her curls, softly laughing as she says, “Well, she isn’t making drinks right now, is she?” 

“So you’re making sure I know what I’m doing then?”

“Something like that,” she says, biting her lip subtly. The goosebumps erupt on my arms instantly when she does that. 

Folding my arms across my chest, I look at her to ask, “Anything notable?” 

She slides her paper out for a second, quickly tucking it away so I can’t see what she’s written down. Sneaky little thing.

“You seem good.. with your hands,” she tilts her head slightly, slowly blinking at me. I can’t stop myself from smirking at the comment. I had noticed before that she watched my hands, but nothing was more validating than that comment. 

I step closer to the bar, leaning towards her a little so I can whisper, “Guess you’ll have to find out.” I watch her jaw slack at my comment, chuckling to myself. Seeing her flustered makes me feel less insane for being so antsy all night. The way she shifts in her seat as I look at her, I don’t think someone has ever reacted to my stare like this before. 

We spend the rest of Mel’s shift making unbearably tense eye contact, which makes me want to get her alone even more. She stayed for a little longer after Melody left, but I practically begged her to get home before it was too late. Something about the thought of her trying to drive in the Old Port when all the late-night bargoers are out just makes me nervous. 

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After what has seemingly become our nightly routine of walking her to her car, with the new bonus of getting to kiss her before she leaves, I’m met with an empty apartment. 

She won’t be home for a little bit. I pull open the fridge staring mindlessly, realizing that I’m not even really hungry. Taking the opportunity since Josh isn’t home, I wander into the bathroom, starting the shower. 

I stood under the hot water, letting it beat against me for a moment. My brain runs rampant with thoughts of her, still unable to process that she’s giving me any time, let alone wanting to spend more time with me. 

My eyes close as I think of the way she touches me; her hands are so delicate, and she’s so careful. Her hands always find a spot on my chest or stomach when she kisses me. Grabbing fistfuls of my shirt when we make out. Her lips though— those are something to write home about. God, I really was touch starved. 

My heart flutters at the thought of her kiss and how good it felt with her. Even when she was just leaving tiny pecks down my neck, I swear I could get goosebumps just from the memory. It had been so long since I even had the option I forgot how exciting it was. 

The thought of her sitting on my lap, her hands tangled into my hair, god. I feel the twitch, trying to ignore it. No, don’t be weird, Jake. Just think about something else. Rinsing the shampoo out of my hair and trying to refocus, but all I can hear in my head is, “all for me, baby?” A small groan comes from me, and I can’t stop myself from sliding my cock through my fist to relieve some of the tension. 

Her lips wrapped around me, the way she seemed like she was enjoying it, and her little moans as she slid me as deep into her mouth as she could. 

“Fuck,” I mutter, stroking myself a little faster. The visual of her on her knees for me has me reaching out to hold myself up. How is she real?

My hips jerked forward as I heard her voice in my head saying, “Come on, Captain.” 

Another moan sneaks out, my eyes fixed shut at this point, wishing she were here. God, she was so good. The way she swirled her tongue around me, her hair wrapped around my fist. Her green eyes look up at me as she takes just about all of me into her mouth, holy shit, I’m–.

“Fuck me, Charlotte,” I quietly groan as my orgasm washes over me. The water is hardly even warm at this point, while I frantically clean myself off to avoid a cold shower— that’s five minutes too late. 

Tapping my phone as I’m drying myself off. One Missed Call. Unlocking it instantly, seeing her name sitting there, I call her back with no hesitation. Is she okay? She hasn’t called me until she’s home before. 

“Hiii,” her soft voice dances around in my ear. 

“Hey, are you okay?” I spit out, knowing I probably sound insane. 

“Oh! Yes, everything’s fine! I'm just still driving,” she replies; a sigh of relief escapes me, grateful that she’s okay. Until all my nerves come flooding back when she says, “I just wanted to hear your voice.” 

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Chapter Twelve

Chapter Fourteen

FDOG Master Post | Masterlist | Playlist

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