#i have gone to a doctor for this kind of stuff

[onceuponaroast]

So it has come to my attention that feeling lightheaded and drenched in sweat 24/7 is not simply a minor inconvenience and is, in fact, not good..... hmmmm

[dykepaldi]

got 12clara on the brain do we all agree the cloisters confession involved them having some sort of time lord psychic exchange

idk if this is something other people have thought about, obviously they said they love each other normal style as well but i feel like there arent gonna be any words that could scratch the surface of the Everything

itd be the most emotionally intense thing either of them had ever experienced like 1000 acid trips at once but all that remains of it in the doctor’s mind is a beautiful song. clara, on the other hand, gets 4.5 billion years worth of suffering beamed into her mind in a matter of seconds and goes absolutely batshit insane (moreso than she already was)

[monkee-mobile]

(apologies anyone who sees this for lamenting into the void again)

Keep Off My Grass got taken off of the internet archive and this is officially my destructive arc because that movie is preserved NOWHERE

no dvd release

no NOTHING

is it just me alone with my screen recordings of Twila my beloved and a few youtube videos?

[the--highlanders]

all that being said. I am pushing my ben-victoria brotp agenda. I do think victoria manages to connect with ben and polly a while after she stays on earth, and that polly in particular is super welcoming, though she's less confident about ben. but eventually she and ben are left alone together for a while and accidentally end up having a pretty open conversation about their respective losses. polly's the one she goes to if she wants to talk or to be distracted for a while, but if she just wants to be quietly understood, she'll go to ben.

[anundyingfidelity]

FREE PASS — Sam Winchester

Summary: Two men appear at your office to inspect a body from a lady who died under mysterious conditions. As a forensic, you are not letting strangers inside the morgue, but one of them is going too far to get your permission.

Pairing: Undercover!Sam Winchester x female reader.

Word count: 1.6k.

Warnings: smut, office sex, against the wall sex lol, sexual tension, p in v, unprotected sex, the dirty stuff, Dean being a dick (i love him he's a jerk).

GEN MASTERLIST!

taglist is here!

“I said no.”

“If you could just give a call to our boss he’ll–”

“Sorry, I need proper documentation so you can check that up,” you repeated yourself for the tenth time as you took some piles of documents from your desk to save them into the archive.

Dean, undercover along with Sam for this new case, sighed, trying not to lose it right there. You were so insistent on getting those damn documents signed before they could inspect the dead woman’s body, who got reported as having all her blood drained with no trace. Why wasn’t this working? They’ve done it hundreds of times already, and not even his personal charms were enough to let them get inside.

“So, my partner and I really need to see this. We know there’s another woman that died, same conditions, in less than twenty-four hours after this one was found,” Sam intervened and interrupted Dean’s thoughts.

You looked surprised as to why they knew about the other body as well.

“I don’t recall mentioning the next one they’re bringing in for an autopsy,” you replied, eyes falling on Sam as you crossed your arms on your chest.

Dean observed your gaze attentively falling on his brother, your demeanor seemed to change abruptly every time Sam talked. Even your voice sounded different.

“How do you know that?” you asked, ignoring Dean’s presence.

“We know because we’re authority,” Sam sternly said.

“Well, I am the authority here. So you can either leave or bring the document from your boss.”

“Of course, doctor,” Dean interrupted your stare contest, smiling as best as he could given the irritating feeling you just caused him. “We’re bringing that up soon, thank you for your time.”

With that, both of them left your office.

“Damn, she was annoying,” Dean said, saving up his badge on his jacket.

“Yeah, but I think I have an idea,” Sam agreed as they made their way to the car.

“So what? You’re gonna sleep with her until she agrees?” Dean chuckled, but when he noticed Sam’s eyes illuminating, he stopped grinning. “Oh…”

Sam went back to the morgue late at night. He hoped you were gone to inspect the bodies and get the reports, meanwhile Dean stayed back at the motel room to do some more research.

‘She’s a bitch’ Dean had said before his brother left, you really had hurted the charm in him. Sam found it kind of funny, though. Dean was so used to ladies swooning for him, and there were a couple of times those cheesy lines and non-chalant flirting had worked in tough times like this, but you weren’t buying it. So sneaking in was by far the best option he had.

Before starting the inspection on the bodies and making sure there was no one at the place, Sam made his way to your office to check on the autopsy files. The lights were still on but it was empty. He searched the last files, skimming and scanning information before taking pictures with his phone. He was almost done, saving them up in place when the door opened.

“Agent?”

God, he was so screwed.

Sam finished closing the drawer and turned back to get a look at you, standing at the door frame clearly mad at him.

“I hope you have the document I clearly asked for earlier today.”

“Uhm, this is very-”

“There’s nothing funny going on here, agent Harrison. Is that your real name anyway?” you asked as you approached him, until you were just mere inches away from each other.

He smiled as best as he could, ignoring your last question. Dean was right, you were a bitch. A bold one.

“You don’t understand, doctor. We can’t keep waiting for a piece of paper to make an inspection,” Sam replied as politely as he could.

“Probably, but it is protocol. I ain’t letting that slip away and risk my job just because two assholes are trying to hit on me to get access to the morgue.”

“We’re risking getting more people killed under this same pattern. Tell me, do you even care about them dying? We need to do something now, doctor, before it’s too late,” Sam started to raise his voice, but not to the point where he could sound angry. He was just being authoritative, exactly like you were with both of them before.

You flinched slightly when he raised his voice. He has started to think of the way you would react differently with him than with Dean. You clearly didn’t like his brother, but Sam was another story. Dean had obviously noticed that, and now Sam was seeing it too. Whatever you were feeling right now, could be cut by a sharp knife. Dean’s not so subtle idea was suddenly good, not that he didn’t think you were hot being all bossy and bitchy with them. He decided to give it a try.

Sam pulled you quickly for a desperate kiss. He swallowed a sweet moan of yours against his mouth, and towered you with his broad figure until you stepped back and you hit the cold wall behind you.

“What are you doing?” you asked between breaths when the kiss was over.

“Convincing you.”

He waited for an answer, but he got everything he needed to continue when you began to take off his jacket desperately, as if anyone could catch you inside the office in the middle of the night. Sam attacked your lips again, the kiss growing hot and wet as both explored your bodies, tracing patterns over your clothes you both were desiring to get rid of.

Sam barely could get your blouse unbuttoned and discharged your trousers after his shirt was gone. Your hand stroking his cock under his pants after unbuckling them, his lips sucking on the skin of your neck and long fingers finding your wet slit over your panties. You moaned, feeling one of his digits curling inside your walls, his breath hitching once your palm stroked him faster. You pulled him for a kiss, tangling your free hand on his long, soft hair as he grunted against your mouth. Both tasting each other’s sweet noises and savoring the heat building up in between.

He lifted you, your legs around his waist, feeling his hard cock pressing against your cunt. He just pulled your panties aside, bare chest pressing against your own still covered by your bra. He lined up with your entrance and you gasped, feeling the tip of his cock splitting you. He became so eager, so needy, he didn’t give a shit to undress you properly, he got what he needed between your legs. You looked so hot like this, squirming and moaning as he filled you up completely.

“God, you’re so big- oh, fuck!” you breathed out.

Sam grinned. “So fucking tight… And cockdrunk already.”

He slammed his hips and quickly found the perfect pace to fuck you right through it.

He held you tightly against the wall, your pussy taking him so perfectly he would just cum right there. The quietness of the office dissipated. Moans, grunts and the obscene noises of skin against skin filled the place. Your hand buried on his scalp, pulling his hair just a little, feeling embarrassedly close to your orgasm. You couldn’t help yourself. Ever since the moment they walked in, he caught your attention, and you spent the whole afternoon daydreaming of a good fuck either way.

Sam pounded harshly, hips stuttering and giving harsh thrusts as he felt his climax building up, his cock twitching when your walls began to spasm around his length, fucking you over and over, until he spilled inside you. Soon, you followed and came hard as his finger rubbed your clit slowly. You pulled his hair harshly once you reached heaven, and he nipped your neck, grunting on your skin. You milked him completely until his thrusts were slower, and eventually stopped, still buried balls deep inside your pussy, pulsing and sensitive from the best orgasm you had in a very long time.

You remained there, legs tangled around his waist as you softened on his arms. His hot cum dripped down your thighs, and you wanted nothing more than to stay there forever.

When Sam cooled down from his high, he pulled out and helped you remain on your feet, your legs were still wobbly and he took some pride in your state. You shared an accomplice stare, and you knew you got yourself into some trouble.

“So… you still need my reports and check the bodies, right?”

Sam slammed an envelope on the table with a thud. Dean, looking away from the laptop, noticed a proud smirk on his brother’s face.

“Really? You banged the forensic?” he asked with a teasing voice and laughed. “Wow.”

“What?” Sam said, getting annoyed by his childish behavior.

“I knew she was eye-fucking you since we entered that office. Guess I wasn’t her type,” Dean got on his feet, taking the envelope. “Anyway, that is a pretty reasonable answer as to why she was acting so hostile with me, specifically. Good job, Sammy.”

Dean patted Sam’s shoulder proudly, like a father congratulating his son for winning a high school baseball game, and then walked away to lie on his bed, taking out the copy of the reports.

Sam would’ve liked for Dean to actually ask questions about the case, instead he spent the next hour or so teasing him for fucking his way to get access to a morgue. He took out his phone when a text came, ignoring Dean’s disgusting question of how sex was.

We have a new one. What the hell is going on?

He might have found a new ally on you for this.

Sam Winchester taglist:

@onlyangel-444 @feyresqueen @drasticemotions @stoneyggirl2 @whothefvckami

[rileyslibrary]

may i request ghost seeing reader making something (maybe a get well soon card or a papercrane or sth idk) and then someone accidentally ruining it? like how would he react? what would he do next etc

doesnt have to be a fic if you decide to write it, could be bulletpoints or something ez🥰🥰

thankyouu🥺✨

I love getting requests like this one; thank you @lululandd! Also, there’s a very important A/N at the end, so meet me there. Buh-bye for now, enjoy! 🍫

———————————————————————

Price got hurt. It was a terrible hit, and everything happened so fast. You were there, at the crime scene, as everything unfolded right before your very eyes.

His injury, however, wasn’t the result of a mission gone wrong; no. Some idiot forgot to put the warning sign on the wet floor, which caused the poor man to fly into the air and crash to the floor.

The good news is that he's recovering quickly and is now being held at the medical centre until he's ready to be released.

The bad news? Without a captain to guide the team, there was no mission to undergo. And, without a mission, none of you had a clear direction or purpose, leaving you all floating in a sea of mundane tasks and boredom. So, for the past few days, you and the rest of the team have been doing mind-numbing chores ranging from scrubbing the kitchen’s greasy ovens to meticulously organising the cluttered armoury.

While Soap and Gaz are on patrol, you and Ghost are taking a break in the mess hall. He’s cleaning his gun by disassembling it and wiping all its metal components with an alcohol solution. You sit across from him, working on a different kind of project: making a get-well-soon card for Price.

Last night, you snuck into HR’s office and “borrowed” some supplies to help you with your craft: a piece of white paper from the printer, some markers, and a pot of blue-coloured glitter dust you found in one of the drawers. It was a mystery as to why the military’s Human Resources department possessed glitter. Still, it will undoubtedly prove helpful with your "crafty" mission.

You also went to the doctor and requested some “normal-sized” bandages to help with your secret project. The doctor leaned back in his chair, raising one eyebrow. He asked why you wanted the bandages, but you were so vague with your answer that he became suspicious of you. So he pulled his desk’s drawer and gave you one fucking bandage—just one. So you had to make it count.

You folded the white paper in half and carefully attached the bandage horizontally to create the outline of Price’s body. The only thing left is to paint his face on the bandage and draw a hospital bed underneath it. That, and getting the team together to write some kind messages on the card.

Ghost looks at you every now and then, mildly intrigued by your artistic creation. You catch his eye, and he quickly turns away.

“Do you like it?” you ask.

“It’s a bandage on a piece of paper,” he says, shrugging. “What is there to like?”

“It’s not just a bandage on a piece of paper,” you explain and gesture to the figure on the paper; “it’s supposed to be Price lying in his hospital bed, recovering.”

His response comes in the form of a lengthy, dismissive snort. He points to the glitter pot in front of you.

“Why the glitter?” he asks.

“It’s for the bedsheets,” you murmur.

“I didn’t know they transferred Price to a love hotel,” he mocks, turning away from you to resume his task. You roll your eyes in response and shift your focus to your craft. This is the same guy you’ll later ask to write a few pleasant words on that card. Fun stuff.

You can still feel his gaze on you as you work on the captain’s card. Despite his best efforts to appear apathetic, you notice him leaning in slightly, pretending to stretch or yawn while sneaking peeks at your project. His body language betrays him; even though he tries to be tough and keep up the act, you know that deep down, he’s a huge softie who can’t resist a heartfelt gesture. He coughs, pretending to clear his throat, and you stifle a laugh at his failed attempt to seem disinterested. You roll your eyes and slam your hand on the table.

“What’s your problem, Lieutenant?” you ask with an amused smirk on your lips.

“I just don’t understand,” he says as he wipes the gun barrel. “Why bother making a card from scratch when you can buy one?”

“Because it’s more meaningful,” you explain. “When you take the time to create something yourself, it shows that you care. It’s not a generic card; it’s a heartfelt statement.”

He lets out a sarcastic scoff.

“I’d do the same thing for you, you know.” You whisper.

He puts down his rifle and looks at you. “You would?” He asks, surprised.

You nod. “Of course, I would,” you reply, “but let’s hope it doesn’t come to that; I’d rather you stay injury-free.”

He chuckles and turns to look at the mess hall doors as they open, with Soap and Gaz carrying a large box and approaching you both.

They slam the box on the table without assessing its weight, causing the entire surface to shake. The impact knocks Ghost’s alcohol solution over, spilling it all over the table and, even worse, all over your hand-made card.

Your heart sinks to your stomach as you helplessly watch the liquid soak into the card, smudging the ink and warping the paper. Ghost throws the gun on the table and grabs your card as quickly as he can. Soap curses under his breath, and Gaz grabs some paper towels from another table, attempting to rescue anything he can. But it’s too late; the damage is done.

You look up to see Ghost standing there, pinching your card between his fingers.

He is livid.

“What the fucking fucking shit, sergeants?” He murmurs.

“Apologies,” Soap replies, utterly unaware of what he’s done, “Hope we didn’t ruin anything important.”

“This,” Ghost says quietly as he raises the destroyed card, “was a get-well-soon card for Price.”

“Sorry guys,” Gaz apologises as he wipes the table off. “Soap and I will go buy another o-”

“SHE MADE THIS!” Ghost yells at him, “SHE MADE THIS WITH HER OWN HANDS!”

Soap furrows his brow. “Why would you make a card when you can buy one?” he wonders.

Ghost slaps his thigh, muttering profanities under his breath. You try to convince him that it’s alright and that a store-bought card will do just fine, but he cuts you off and looks at the sergeants.

“Why make a card instead of just buying one?” He asks and brings the tips of his fingers together, waving his hand back and forth in front of the two sergeants. “Because a hand-made card is more meaningful and personal than buying a generic one, you dimwits,” he lectures them and turns to you.

“Can you make another one, Y/N?” He asks softly.

You lower your head to the ground. “I’m afraid I’ve run out of banda-”

“SHE DOESN’T HAVE ANY MORE BANDAGES, YA PRICKS!”

“And I had only one sheet of paper.”

“AND SHE HAD ONL-” he pauses. “How come you only got one sheet?” He asks, and you explain that you weren’t supposed to be on the HR premises, so you had to act quickly. Ghost lets out a deep sigh as he looks at the ruined card.

“Sergeant Mactavish, go get a few sheets of paper from my office,” he instructs before turning to Gaz. “Sergeant Garrick,” he orders, “go to the medic; tell him that your new boots have caused blisters on your feet, and you need a few bandages to patch them up.”

They both nod and leave to go fetch your supplies. Ghost turns to you and crumbles your—already—destroyed card.

“Don’t be sad, kid,” he comforts you, “I’ll help you make another one.”

“Really, Lt.?” You ask, grinning.

“Damn right I will,” he says as he takes off his gloves, “and it’ll have bandages and bedsheets full of fucking glitter and everything nice on it.”

———————————————————————

A/N: The card was inspired by this tutorial from Jennie Moraitis; all credit goes to her. Here’s a picture of the card from her website!

[barcaatthemoon]

time killer || lena oberdorf x reader ||

Lena proves to you that her injury won't get in the way of things.

18+

There had been a million things running through your head whenever you came to pick Lena up from the airport. She had flown in for her doctors appointments, but now the Olympics were over and she was just back for good. Your pre-season stuff with Bayern was starting up, and there was a little voice in the back of your head screaming about Lena resenting you.

Her injury wasn't your fault, you hadn't even been called up to your country's Olympic squad. You had been hurt about that, and Lena had comforted you while at her tournament. Moments after you had gotten off the phone with her, you watched as she went down on the pitch. Your heart had shattered, recognizing the way that she had clutched her knee.

"No, stop trying to run!" Jule scolded your girlfriend as they made their way through the airport. It seemed like everybody had flown into Munich, wanting to spend some time together relaxing before things got hectic.

Your face lit up as you saw Lena trying to make her way over towards you. It was kind of sad watching her toddle around on the crutches. Still, you smiled brightly and waved at your girlfriend, only for your face to fall as another body crashed into your side. In just a few seconds, your view went from Lena making her way towards you to Laura leaning over you after having tackled you to the ground.

"I missed you! Just because your girlfriend is lame and got hurt, doesn't mean you can just skip out on the whole Olympics," Laura chided. You looked away, more than slightly ashamed that you had stayed in Germany instead of making your way to France. Truthfully, Lena had asked if you'd give her a bit of space before she came back to you, and that was the easiest way to do that.

"I'm sorry Laura, but will you please get off of me," you said. Laura sighed as she got up, even helping you onto your feet as well. That seemed to have given Lena just enough time to get to you. You wanted to rush into her arms, but you had to be gentle. At least you tried to be, but Lena wasn't having any of it, even trying to lift you into the hug. "Be careful."

"Don't worry about me babe," Lena told you. She kept her backpack on, and seemed content to let Lea carry her suitcase until you went to take it. You rolled your eyes at Lena, but carried it all the way to your car. The two of you didn't talk much on the ride back to your apartment, Lena not even arguing when you carried both of her bags upstairs.

Lena settled onto your couch comfortably. You could tell that she was about ready to pass out, so you left her to lay there while you unpacked for her and started on dinner. It was a bit too quiet for your taste, so you played music on your headphones as you moved around the kitchen. You didn't even think about the possibility of Lena waking up until you were placing plates at the table and saw her hobble over.

"Where are your crutches?" you asked her. Lena just ignored you as she slipped onto a barstool. "Lena, I'm serious. You need to stick to the movement plan. You're not ready for regular walking yet."

"I am fine, it was like ten feet," Lena huffed. You pouted at her as you slid her plate in front of her. Lena forced herself to look away from you, both of you well aware that she would admit she was wrong if you played at this for long enough.

Dinner was nice. The two of you didn't talk much while you ate. It wasn't as good as something that you knew Lena could make, but you had been practicing a lot since she was gone. You gave yourself a week of takeout while Lena was at her parents' before she went back to France. After your first week, you remembered the little cookbook that Lena had bought and filled out with simple recipes for you.

"I am not saying that your cooking was unsatisfactory, but I could still eat." It was far too early for either of you to go to bed, so you and Lena had moved to rest on the couch together. Lena had been flipping through channels while you scrolled through Instagram on your phone.

"I can go make you something else," you said, already moving to get up. Lena quickly pulled you back into her arms and against the couch. "You're not getting up again unless it's to get ready for bed."

"I don't want anything from the kitchen," Lena told you. It was just late enough that delivery would be difficult, but you didn't mind finding something from her. "I don't want food. I want you."

"Lena, your leg," you huffed. Lena shifted a little on the couch so that she was laying almost completely flat. "I'm not risking worsening your injury. I've waited long enough to play alongside you for once."

"You won't be anywhere near my leg. Lean on the arm of the couch or let me hold onto you, just sit on my face. Please?" The look on Lena's face was adorable. She was pouting up at you and giving her best puppy dog eyes. The soft brown always made your heart melt, and Lena knew what her little show was doing to your resolve. "If you don't want to that's fine, but it's all I've been thinking about for a couple of days. If I get uncomfortable, we'll find a new position."

Lena kept her hands off of you until you agreed. Once you had, she pulled you in for a kiss. Lena was careful in getting you out of your clothes, and much less careful about her placement of them once they were off of your body. You let Lena pull your body up so that your cunt hovered over her face. You had expected her to fully dive in immediately, but she hadn't.

"I can't wait until my knee is better and I can really fuck you. I've been so frustrated, and I know you like it when I get rough. We can't play rough like this, but that's okay too. I just want to be close to you," Lena rambled. Her hands moved teasingly around your body until you were trying to push yourself down towards her face.

"Lena, please," you whined. Lena bit her lip as she wrapped her arms around your thighs. The strokes of Lena's tongue were soft and slow at first, and it took a lot of restraint not to grind against her face. You reminded yourself that you had to stay still for Lena to set the pace. All of this was to make sure that she could handle this so early in her recovery. Even if it didn't work out, you weren't opposed to finding alternatives to getting off around each other.

The wetter you got, the more inclined Lena was to explore your cunt. You knew that she was teasing you, trying to get you as wet as possible before she started to apply actual pressure. Lena let out a low chuckle at the amount of profanities leaving your lips as you grabbed a fistful of her hair. You were getting close, and even if Lena kept with her teasing, you were certain that you'd still cum. It had been over a month since Lena had been there to touch you, and even if you had made yourself cum, it wasn't the same.

"Lena, let go," you huffed. You tried to pry her hands off of your thighs, but it was no use. "Lena, please. I want a kiss, and I can't do that if your face is buried in between my legs."

"Fine, but only because I love you," Lena muttered. You scooted down her body a bit, careful of her knee, and leaned down to kiss her. Lena thought she was going to lose her mind when you moaned immediately at the taste of yourself on her lips. "Fuck, you're so hot."

"Do you feel okay? It wasn't uncomfortable on your knee to lay like that?" You knew that it broke the moment, but you had to check on Lena. "I don't care how horny either one of us are, if it's not comfortable, we're stopping."

"It was fine. I didn't even think of my knee until you mentioned it. Go get yourself a drink and meet me in the bedroom. Don't worry, I'll use my crutches," Lena promised. You grabbed your underwear and a shirt to put on as you went to grab a bottle of water. True to her word, you could hear and see Lena use her crutches to get back to the bedroom. You did your bedtime routine before helping Lena with hers, trying to keep her in one spot for as long as possible throughout.

[warframe1999]

Sooo…

The protoframes, huh?

i wanted to go a bit into what each member of the Hex (yay, new syndicate!!) had to say when you got into proximity of them in the relay. there’s honestly a lot here to set the scene not only for 1999 itself, but introducing each protoframe as well as sort of hinting at their interpersonal relationships, and how they interact with one another! some of my favorite kinda of lore is specifically character development and personality-focused dynamics like this so here!!!! i walked back and forth for an hour for YOU! here is all proximity dialogue for each character in the Höllvania Mall relay:

ARTHUR:

“Question. Could I take Quincy down if he turned on me?”

“We’ll find you, Doctor. That’s a promise.”

“Stop sniffing around my head, Eleanor. If I want to talk, I’ll talk.”

“We need to keep Lettie on her feet. If she goes we all go.”

“Dunno why we even bothered with that cleaning rota.”

“Yeah, we can hold this place.”

“One day, Aoi. No more roadblocks and checkpoints. Just you and me and the bikes, open road for miles, all this bullshit far away. I swear to Sol.”

“Still too open. We need more chokepoints.”

“Bottled water. Like sodding gold dust.”

“Well Amir’s still alive. That’s a win.”

LETICIA:

“I got nothin’ to prove to you, Quincy! Go play your little games, niño.”

“¿Qué onda? The Lady Eleanor ain’t no more freaky than the last time you checked in. ‘Less you know different?”

“Yo, Aoi. Chill, hermana. Do something for yourself, for once. Arthur ain’t going to blow away if you blink.”

“The boss says care for his sister I care for his sister. As long as you still are his sister… and as long as I feel like listening to him.”

“Being loved and being hurt? Yeah, I make no distinction. I knew someone, once, wired the same way. Kept me sane. And what of it? Te crees muy acá ¿no? Get outta my head, Eleanor.”

“Never signed up for this. I’ll be home Mamá. Your little girl doesn’t end here. No te preocupes.”

“Man, I’ve been awake so long that even the spiders in my head have all gone to sleep.”

“Wacha: unless you’re pissing blood right this second, whatever it is can wait.”

“I swear, should lock Aoi and Amir in a cuna. Didn’t sign up for no babysitting gig.”

AOI:

“I don’t wanna go on patrol. I wanna take stuff apart.”

“Nearly time for the On-lyne boys.”

“Metal, metal, metal, what do you want to be?”

“Yep. I can live like this.”

“Arthur needs to keep some fuel in the tank for himself. Goddamn savior complex that man has…”

“I oughta get some headphones. Then I wouldn’t have to hear Quincy work off all that surplus testosterone!”

“If they take Entrati out, who’s going to look after that mutant jaguar of his? Poor thing won’t last five minutes in the wild.”

“Amir! Remember to hydrate!”

“Dear past self: we finally got those super powers we always wanted. Whaddayaknow.”

“GodDAMN. Lettie would you keep your frickin’ rats OUT of my SPACE?”

QUINCY:

“Don’t look up, Doctor.”

“Arthur needs to leave the Major to me, innit. Respect my methods.”

“Don’t mind the waiting. Plenty to be thinking about.”

“You don’t know me. Never see what darkens your rooftops. Inevitable, like the rain. Handing out consolations in a transient connection. Boom. Smoke. And ghost.”

“You wiv me, Eleanor? How deep in you go? See anythin’ you fancy, girl?”

“Amir is a weak, weak boy. Like Aunty said, ‘duppy know who fi frighten.’”

“Thassit… nice and steady.”

“How many man have the opps got? Not enough t’be takin’ me. Never.”

“Oi, Lettie! Grab y’ strap and let’s go. Best a five buys the drinks?”

ELEANOR:

“Don’t expect me to tell you what I’ve seen in Amir’s head. He’s not a beautiful, broken marionette, and he’s nobody’s project. He’s one of us.”

“Quincy thinks he’s going to wake up one night to me chewing the flesh from his ribs. Maybe he’s right.”

“I know you’re there. I can feel you. It’s okay, I won’t tell the others.”

“Aoi? She’s lovely and kind and strong, and… I kind of hate her a little bit. Because it should have been her spreading her happiness into everyone’s heads, and me throwing cars and trucks around.”

“I thought there were going to be two of you! Where’s the other one?”

“Blood. There’s gonna be a fight. Something… bursting. Crossed swords. Arthur!”

“What on earth is a ‘Mara Lohk’?”

“Oh, you’re going to make such a difference this time around.”

“I don’t think Doctor Entrati expected me to survive. I had a lot more than just a cough. But… survive I did. And Lettie has not forgiven me for it.

“Oh. OH. She’s wonderful! Triple-faced goddess! But there’s a shadow on her, isn’t there?”

AMIR:

“A little zap, and… infinite credit! No more ‘insert coin’! Not that we could insert coin. We have no coin. Once we had coin, but now Aoi has smooshed all the coin. Coinnnn.”

“Why did they never make a console port?”

“BAD MOVE, SPACE CAA-DET.”

“But the one thought none of them spoke out loud was - could Lettie reattach a head?”

“Hey, Arthur! Arthur! Arthur! Arthur! Arthur! Dahh, you missed it.”

���Eleanor? Are you there? Can you - can you give my brain a hug please? Thank you.”

“We’re getting a little too excited, let’s step it down, step it down before we get the blue cracklies. In one two out one two.”

“Oi’m Quincy. Oi’m gonna blow out yer kneecaps. Mashup in yer chip shop alright.”

“Ungh! This violent video game is influencing my emotions! Societal norms… eroding! Morality… subsumed! I MUST KILL!”

“This place used to smell so good. Coffee. Cookies. Fresh clean socks. Now it’s just rust, pain, and old socks.”

[cryptidghostgirl]

Heya! I just found you and I knew that I immediately had to put in a request!! May I ask for Alastor x chubby reader?? With hurt and comfort?? Where a random demon makes her feel bad for being chubby and Alastor comforts her AND CONFESSES that he's in love with her 🙇🏻‍♀️🙇🏻‍♀️🙇🏻‍♀️ and then in true Alastor fashion he rips the demon apart for making reader feel bad PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

A/N of course!! this is good vibes. yes. 11/10 for the adorable scale. I've been writing so much angst,, the fluff request is so welcome. ALSO THIS GIF I FOUND FOR THE IMAGE OF THIS STORY IS SO CUTE WTF.

Sweet (Alastor x Chubby!Reader)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Warnings: Hurt//comfort, tw for body image stuff/issues, gore but make it cute, uh... fluff. Sickeningly sweet fluff. Extra TW body image stuff. May or may not have channeled some of my ten years experience with eds into this one besties, sorry about that.

Word Count: 3,330

Master Lists:

Master Lists 

Hazbin Hotel Master List

The truth of it was: Y/n knew exactly how pretty she was. That didn't keep it from hurting when people made unprovoked, snide remarks about her weight. More than one thing can be true at the same time.

She was kind of used to it by now. People in the human world had been rude on occasion, she'd had doctors occasionally act discriminatorily towards her because of her weight, a shitty date or partner or two who told her to lose it, but it had been nothing in comparison to Hell. It was Hell after all, home to the worst of the worst. Y/n tried to toughen up, thicken her skin. After a life on earth and another fifteen years down below she couldn't help but feel like it shouldn't hurt anymore. It still always did.

This one had been particularly bad. Y/n had stepped out of the hotel, intent on meeting a friend for lunch. She'd gotten all dressed up for it too, in her favorite outfit with her makeup done all pretty. She hadn't just felt good stepping out, she'd known she was hot. There had been a spring in her step and a coy smile on her face as she lowered her heart shaped sunglasses from the top of her head.

Five minutes, four blocks. That's all it took.

"Jesus, who let you outside in that?" the man had laughed, "Cover that shit up, I'm gonna vomit."

Y/n had sent her friend a text, saying she wasn't feeling well. She had apologized and asked to reschedule. Y/n had gone home.

Angel Dust had tried to approach her as she had stormed into the lobby but, she had brushed him off, rushing to her room. Y/n hand't meant to be rude. She had every intention of finding him later to apologize, the tears had just been pressing hotly behind her eyes and she needed to be alone. She loved Angel, trusted him, through of him as a brother but god, she did not want to cry in front of him. Not right now anyways, not over something so... so... stupid.

Y/n slammed the door to her room harshly behind her as she entered it, throwing herself onto the bed and burying her face in the pillow. In the comfort of pinks and piles of stuffed animals, she sobbed.

It wasn't even the comment that was getting to her anymore, although it had been a particularly awful one. No, what was upsetting her now was how she'd let it get to her. She felt stupid and weak and more than anything in the world she just wanted to rip the clothes off her body along with her skin and disappear from the physical world.

Her shoulders shook harshly, the pillow now damp. She was sure her makeup was a mess but didn't care. It wasn't like anyone was going to see her anyways, not until tomorrow at least. Y/n was trying to get redeemed but she wasn't trying to get made fun of. If she could keep this to herself, she was going to.

It wasn't that she didn't trust the others in the hotel. Y/n actually trusted them more than about anyone she'd met in Hell up to this point. They were kind and caring, invested in themselves and one another even if they pretended they weren't. There was just the fear. There was always the fear, the internal need for perfection, to show no weakness.

Almost as if the universe was fucking with her, as if it could tell exactly what she didn't want, there was a knock at the door. Y/n groaned audibly into the pillow. Of course, just when she wanted to be left alone. The knock came again and she slowly sat up, still sniffling and hurriedly wiping her eyes.

"Uh, yeah." she called, trying her best to keep her voice from trembling and praying she didn't look too much of a mess even if it was probably just Charlie or Angel, "It's open. Sorry."

Y/n's eyes widened slightly in shock as Alastor opened the door. Out of everyone in the hotel, he was probably the person she knew the least. She made the effort of course. Despite knowing his status and his history, she tried to play nice and make friends. It was he who avoided her, not the other way around.

To be perfectly honest, Alastor made Y/n a bit nervous. It wasn't because of his reputation. They were in Hell for heaven's sake, everyone had one of those. No, it was the way her heart beat a little faster when he was in the room. It was the way that every time she looked at him, she secretly hoped she'd catch him looking at her too.

Alastor had never been in Y/n's room before. It was all satin and pink and lace. He couldn't help but think it suited her to a t. It was all perfect, she was perfect. Except here she was crying, just as Angel had said she might be.

What had happened was this: Alastor had over heard Angel saying something to Husk. They were at the bar, Angel was drinking as always, and saying he was worried about Y/n. Alastor had pressed and when Alastor pressed, he always got his way. Apparently Y/n had come back to the hotel mere minutes after having left to go get lunch with a friend. Angel said she had seemed really agitated, genuinely upset.

That had made Alastor angry. Not normal angry more delicate than that, more minute. It made him upset, he hurt for Y/n in her theoretical pain. He wasn't used to this whole feeling things thing. His body on autopilot, Alastor himself had been surprised when he found himself before her door, poised to knock.

Y/n watched him, her eyes glassy and her cheeks flushed. There were dark circles of mascara beneath her eyes that matched the stains on her pillow behind her and her pretty dress had a few wrinkles in it.

"Whatever is the matter, my dear?" Alastor asked, stepping fully in to the room.

"Oh, nothing." Y/n tried to brush him off, looking away towards the window as she pulled a stuffed animal into her lap.

It was her trembling lip that gave her away. Alastor let the door fall shut behind him. Y/n turned as she felt the bed dip beside her, her mouth slightly open.

"I would advise you not to lie to me."

He hadn't meant for it to sound like that. He saw the way Y/n stiffened instinctually at his words, at his tone. Alastor didn't know how to exist in a non threatening way, its how he'd lived his whole life in this world and the one before it. It was how he protected himself. He took a breath.

"What I mean," he slowly corrected himself, "is that you don't need to lie. I..."

He cleared his throat, uncomfortable with the way he was forcing himself to be honest. Honesty was, however, the only option. He saw the way Y/n's gaze was distant, her body tense. For the first time in his life, he wanted to help someone else. It was strange. Alastor submitted himself to the oddity of it all, the discomfort. It was his gift to her.

"I'm here to help."

"I..." Y/n trailed off, big wet tears pooling in her eyes, "It's nothing. I'm okay, really. It's stupid."

With a gentleness that surprised both of them, Alastor lifted a hand to her face, wiping a stray tear. He held it on the tip of his finger before his eyes, examining the way a jeweler would a diamond.

"If it's upsetting you this deeply, it's not stupid."

That was the last straw. Y/n, unable to hold herself back any longer, collapsed into his chest. Her body shook with sobs. Alastor held his arms out, unsure of what to do with them. It took him a second to comply with her unspoken request, wrapping them around her. He found himself rubbing small circles on her back, trying to soothe her.

There was a reason Alastor avoided Y/n and it was that the demoness made him feel things. Things he was unaccustomed to feeling, things that felt dangerous in their warmth and care. Bubbly little things that got caught in his chest and tied up his tongue. If he had thought about his actions, he wouldn't have come to her side but he hadn't and so, here he was. This was all unknown territory, he felt blind and alone in the dark. Alastor didn't like that.

They stayed like that for several minutes until Y/n was finally able to regain some control of her breathing. She calmed herself methodically, as if it was a ritual she was well practiced in. Alastor found himself wondering how many times she had felt like this, reacted to something in her life like this, and had no one there to hold her. He didn't like that thought. He couldn't decide what was worse, if no one ever had been there or if there was someone else who she wanted in times like this, someone other than him. Someone better, more well versed in the delicate intricacies of emotion.

She lifted herself from his chest, his arms falling from her back to his sides as she wiped the last few stray tears.

"I'm sorry." she half laughed, "I don't know what came over me... and I've ruined your suit."

Alastor looked down. There were indeed black stains from her running makeup on his jacket. Normally such a thing would irritate him to no end, anger him even. It was Y/n who had made them however and so, he didn't care. He turned back to her, shaking his head slightly.

"Nothing a wash can't fix. Now, why don't you tell me what happened?"

"It's stupid." Y/n shook her head, her eyes finding her hands in her lap.

She still held the stuffed animal there, a rabbit. She fiddled with it's ears absent mindedely, twisting them and rubbing them in a practiced manner.

"Y/n." Alastor gently warned and she sighed.

"It's just... something someone said to me. That's all."

Alastor's brow furrowed slightly at the notion.

"What did they say? Who was it?"

The words had fallen from him quicker than he had meant them to, more earnestly. He was grateful Y/n seemed to stuck in her own world to notice such a thing.

"Just some asshole making a comment about my weight. Saying that I shouldn't wear what I wear, saying the sight of me made them nauseous. The normal dickwad stuff. I should be used to it by now, I've been chubby all my life but... I don't know. It still just makes me want to disappear. To rip myself apart by the fistful, you know?"

Y/n looked up at Alastor when he didn't respond, her cheeks red with embaressment.

"I told you, it's du-"

"Who the fuck said it?" he asked through gritted teeth, trying his best to remain calm.

"Alastor, it's fine." Y/n sighed, "I don't know why you're getting so worked up about it. Like I said, I've heard it all before."

She made to turn back to the plushie in her lap but before she could, Alastor cupped her face gently in his hands.

"Al... what are you..."

"Y/n, you are stunning."

There he went again, not thinking. Y/n was dangerous, to be avoided. She paraded around in her sweet sundresses and angelic disposition, practically unfit to have been sent to Hell in the first place. She was the simple syrup in lemonade, she was the best mixed drink.

Her tongue ran gently over her lips, an innocent and thoughtless gesture on her part that sent his mind reeling as she mulled over his words. Her brow furrowed.

"Alastor, I-"

"You are the most beautiful person I have ever laid eyes on, living or dead."

There he went again, his tongue a million miles ahead of his brain. Y/n let out a light laugh, her head still in his hands.

"What?" Alastor asked, feeling the heat rush to his cheeks, "I mean it."

"I thought you hated me." Y/n confessed.

"Far from it, my sweet."

His voice was barley more than a whisper. Y/n looked away.

"You drive me to distraction."

Her presence was like some strange truth serum rushing through his veins, now he had started, he couldn't seem to stop.

"I've never... You're unlike anyone I've ever met. You shine in this dark place."

"Alastor, this is a lot." Y/n admitted after a moment.

"My apologies." he let go of her face, his heart sinking, "I did not intend to make you feel worse."

He should have known. Alastor, in his foolish frenzy, had forgotten himself, his legacy, his persona. How could someone as sweet as a sun ripened strawberry stolen straight from the bush feel anything towards him save fear?

"I'll go."

Alastor made to get up, had every intent to actually leave and give Y/n her space. At the felling of her small hand on his arm, he paused and turned back to her.

Y/n's face was bright red, she refused to meet his gaze. Her arm not holding him was wrapped tightly around her stuffed animal like a charm.

"No, please." she took a deep breath, meeting his eyes once again at last, "I... I think... you're rather... handsome... as well."

Her speech was halting, uncertain in its anxiety. His smile widened.

"You do now, do you?" he asked, lifting her head a little higher with a finger beneath her chin.

"Oh hush." she scolded him, "If anyone was going to lie out of the pair of us, I'm pretty sure it'd be you. I am trying to be redeemed, in case you've forgotten, and you probably just want my soul or some shit."

"How can I prove to you that the only way I want your soul is given willingly and out of contract?"

Y/n laughed again, a genuine joy.

"Pinky promise me."

She held up a hand and Alastor quickly locked pinkies with her.

"I meant every word I said. I've had... eyes for you for a while now. You are the rosy fingered dawn. You are... you're you. You are Y/n."

"I am Y/n, aren't I." she smiled cockily back.

It was a relief to see her return to her normal confident self.

"I meant everything I said too. I've... I've had eyes for you too, or whatever."

She looked away, her cheeks even brighter pink than before. Alastor let go of her pinky and, leaning forward, pressed a soft and tentative kiss to the top of their head. Y/n immediately snapped her head back to him. Before he could register what was happening, she had tackled him in a hug, throwing them both to the bed.

Looking down at him from her perch on his lap, she smiled brightly.

"Can I kiss you?"

The question took him by surprise. He had never kissed anyone before save the tender kiss on the cheek reserved for dear friends and close family. He hesitated in indecision, in uncertainty.

"You're allowed to say no." Y/n followed up, noticing his apparent discomfort, "I don't want to move things too fast for you."

Alastor shook his head, the truth of his own desire unexpected even to him.

"No. You can."

Y/n's smile widened as they dipped down, pecking him on the lips. His cheeks warmed as she straightened herself up again, her hands pressed flat against his chest.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that for."

She smelled sweet, she looked sweet, god, she probably even tasted sweet. His tongue darted out of his mouth across his lips jus ever so slightly, the flavor of her strawberry lipgloss fueling his infatuation.

"Do that again."

It didn't take long for Alastor to track down the demon in question that had sent Y/n spiraling that afternoon. After their promise had been made and she had agreed to the date he had proposed for the next day, she had spilled everything. Her head in his lap as he had run his fingers through her hair, she had complained liberally about the demon. Her complaints had, thankfully, included a full description of the man.

Once the hour was late and he was sure she was fast asleep along with everyone else in the hotel, Alastor had slipped out onto the streets. The demon was, of course, easy to locate. He was loud and distinctive. Alastor found him drunk in a bar harassing a woman. He watched, waiting patiently until the man left and when he did, Alastor followed him.

He cornered the demon, sending his shadows to torment the man. He was on his knees close to tears by the time Alastor finally decided to join in on the fun. He leered down at the demon, grinning from ear to ear.

"I heard you said something rather cruel today." he hummed.

"I didn't!" the man pleaded, "I swear!"

"Not even to a pretty little demon in heart shaped sunglasses?"

The man's eyes widened slightly in obvious recollection.

"I... fuck, I didn't know. I swear, I didn't know who she was. I didn't know she was with you!"

Alastor stretched in the darkness of the ally, his horns growing thorny and tall as he entered his true demon form. The man trembled in fear. It was pathetic, truly.

"It doesn't matter. You ruined her plans for the day and so, in return, I am going to ruin you."

With those final words, he pounced. The tongue of the man was the first thing to go, ripped with great force from his throat and tossed to the side.

Next were his ears, Alastor tore them from his head slowly. The man screamed, a choked and guttural sound through the blood in his throat. Alastor laughed shamelessly, his claws finding a home in the demon's stomach next.

He disemboweled the man with ease, careful to keep everything connected so he was still alive. Then, he went for the eyes, gouging them out in harsh slashing movements. Alastor straightened himself, looking down upon his mess of a creation.

"I would say that next time you will think before saying something like that again but, I think we both know there wont be a next time."

A strange sound left the demons throat, obviously a plea of mercy. Without a tongue, he could not articulate his wishes.

"What?" Alastor asked, putting a hand to his ear as he slowly returned to his normal appearance, "I am sorry but could you say that again? I couldn't quite make it out."

Another strangled, desperate sound left the man's throat. Alastor laughed.

"Well, I've given you a chance to beg for your life and you have chosen not to take it." he taunted, leaning back over the man, "I supposed that means you have opted for death. Very well."

In a single, swift movement he tore the man's throat from his neck. The demon twitched under him for a few seconds longer before at last stilling in death. Alastor examined his work for a moment before pulling himself to his feet. Without a glance back towards the body, he straightened his jacket and let his shadows take him from the ally.

Y/n was under his protection now. He had tried so long to avoid the call, the weakness, her charms pulling him in. At long last, he had succumbed and under his watch, no one was going to ever make her feel anything less than perfect ever again.

----

A/N This is the first time I have ever written something like this, I hope it was okay.

[georgescitadel]

George R.R. Martin on power and Varys' riddle

Interviewer: I think one of the things that is so involving about the story is that the people who start out with power might be quite limited in some ways and lose it while the people that are allegedly powerless with the right kind of cunning and guile and smarts and heart can find a way out of situations that seem hopeless. Did you intend to examine this idea of power and hierarchy and how these things are not as fixed as people think that they are?

George: Definitely! The whole subject of power is fascinating to me! How does power work? What’s it based on? In Varys’ riddle - which I was very glad they included (in the show), I think it’s one of the most important parts of the book – he asks Tyrion who has the real power in that situation. The rich man, the priest and the king are each telling the sellsword to kill the other people… It’s actually the sellsword who has the power since he's the one who has a sword in his hand. He has the power of life and death over the other three, but he’s going to obey one of the other three because of some allusion of power… When I see that scene played out in my mind’s eye, these are three old fat guys and none of them can do anything themselves to the sellsword and yet they command him because they can summon other sellswords… Well, why do all of those other sellswords obey? Our societies are built on this structure of sand and you see that periodically with the falls of great empires and nations… The Soviet Union, it looked solid and eternal and one day it just blew away – “we're not going to follow those guys anymore, let's get rid of them and we'll bring in some new guys.” and suddenly the Soviet Union was gone overnight. Why does that happen?... I was reading a book a couple months ago about the history of Jerusalem and this one particular crazy sultan or caliph. At one point he decided his doctors were trying to kill him so he had all of his doctors killed… okay. Then he decided that the women of the court were conspiring against him, but he liked women as they had babies and other uses, sexually and stuff like that, so he commanded his guards to cut off the hands of all of the women in the court, not only his own wives and concubines, but evidently their wives and concubines as well, and they did it! Now… what the hell was going on there? Why doesn’t the captain of the guard say to the sergeant: “this guy is fucking nuts! We have swords!!! Why don’t we kill him instead of cutting off our wives’ hands?”. I don’t really know where the matter comes from, but it’s a fascinating issue to explore and huge drama comes out of that. Don’t be surprised if sometime in ASOIAF I have a crazy king cutting off the hands of a bunch of people!

- George R.R. Martin, Chicon 7

[cher-rei]

hopelessly obliviously devoted to you [ T.A.A ]

"but baby can't you see? I'm hopelessly devoted to you" [hopelessly devoted to you- olivia newton john]

pairings: trent alexander arnold x fem!reader

summary: when your best friend needs some moral support for her date, you don't hesitate to ask trent for some help. but something else sparks that evening instead

[wc: 2.8k]

genre(s): fluff, idiots in love, denial is a river in egypt

notes: call me capser with the way that I ghost.

"I need your help."

you didn't look up from your phone and continued to aimlessly scroll, hoping that if you avoided eye contact with your friend mia, then she would leave you be.

however, she didn't leave and stood in front of you in your living room, her hands on her hips with a look that screamed "I know what you're doing and it's not going to work".

you could feel her glare boring into your forehead, but you tried your best to persist but you were weaker than you thought. a heavy groan left your lips and she smiled in victory but you knew what you were getting yourself into.

you looked up at her with pursed lips. "I'm not lying to anyone again, or pretending to be your doctor so that you can stay out of work, or--"

"woah, okay." mia waved her hands in front of her in urge for you to stop, a shameful blush flushing her cheeks at the list of things you'd "helped" her with before. your eyebrows raised as she promised that it was nothing of that kind, and that you barely had to do anything.

you nodded in intrigue and she continued with a hopeful smile. "I have a date on friday."

your stomach dropped. "with dean right?"

mia and dean had only been seeing each other for about a month now but it was going well, so you were hoping that she wasn't about to ask you to tell him that she died or something. but to your surprise she said that she liked him a lot, and intended to see where it lead her.

"and you need my help with this how?" you asked with a quirked eyebrow. mia then took a seat next to you and placed her hand on top of yours, a pleading look in her eyes as you mentally prepared yourself for her answer.

she gave your hand a tight squeeze. "we're going to the arcade and I'm really nervous because you know that's not really my scene. so I was wondering if you could tag along and just ease my mind a little?"

just as you were about to interject and refuse the invitation to third wheel the entire evening, mia pulled you back down with a look of utter desperation.

"you can bring trent or something since you two are like--" she made a gesture in the air with her hands. "--like whatever you two are."

if there was something that you hated talking about, then it was that you and trent had a thing for each other. which wasn't true at all! you'd known each other for a while now, about 4 years, and you admit that you were close but nothing special.

"literally everyone can see it except you two oblivious idiots," mia spewed, which took you by surprise. you were just about to agree to her idea of tagging along and she decided to be a little brat.

that's when you made your dash out of the living room, yours and mia's voices sounding over each other as one apologised and the other screamed to block them out.

"I can't hear you!! la la la!"

you ended up going to the arcade.

trent didn't hesitate with his answer either, despite that he wasn't too fond of being around new people which surprised you. his excuse was that you hadn't gone to the arcade in a while anyway, so it would be doing you a favour.

when mia heard the news, she was ecstatic, to say the least, and rushed off to tell dean that you'd be tagging along. so now here you were, in your room, tidying up your outfit while waiting for trent to come and pick you up.

dean and mia left a while ago because they had dinner plans before the arcade, but you made it clear that you and trent would not be joining for the formal stuff.

yname added to their story

it wasn't long before you heard your apartment door open, meaning that trent had arrived. a small smile tugged at your lips as you grabbed your bag from your bed and left to the lounge where he was, a look of surprise on his face.

"where are the cameras?" he asked suddenly and started looking around, lifting the pillows from the couch before looking back at you with a look of mock disbelief.

your eyebrows furrowed at his absurd question. "what are you talking about?"

he took out his phone and pointed towards the time on the screen. "you're actually ready on time for the first time in years."

your jaw clenched at his comment, a flush of red rushing to your cheeks as you threw your handbag at him. "shut up and get in the car. I can't believe I said yes to this."

a hum left his lips as he locked the door behind him, listening to you complain all the way to the car. you didn't notice it, but this was one of those moments where mia would sit back and watch the two of you in slight disappointment and hope.

she would sit in the back seat of the car and watch as trent's attention stayed on you whenever you spoke, a flicker of something lingering in his eyes and on his tongue. mia would notice the effortless gestures between the two of you, such as trent holding the car door open for you no matter the circumstance, the occasional buckle of your seat belt if your hands were full.

how you would mindlessly cling to his side or interlock your arm in his wherever you were. there were always the flirtatious comments that were thrown around but neither of you showed any reaction that wasn't irritation.

it was so obvious to her. so obvious that either of you would always think of each other first before anything or anyone else.

when you arrived at the mall, it was no later than 6 p.m but the mall was already packed with teenagers and family's who couldn't have waited until saturday to enjoy their lives. you took a deep breath and followed trent inside, banter firing back and forth as you tried to find mia and dean.

"we're in the food court and they're not here," you said exasperated and dialed mia's number so you could call her.

trent forced a smile, "well how about you try and look instead of standing in one spot."

that earned a glare from your side, and before you could argue back mia's voice sounded from behind you, to which you mouthed a proud "told you so".

just from the looks of it, mia could tell that this was going to be a long night.

after the introductions were over, the four of you leisurely made your way to the arcade on the 3rd floor of the mall. laughter and excitement boomed from inside and you couldn't help but be a bit giddier than you expected.

there was a skip in your step as you trailed in front of the others, commenting on how it's been forever since you'd been to an arcade— just as trent said. mia and dean walked hand in hand beside trent, who wasn't bothered with trying to hide his smile as he watched you.

you turned around to look at them. "you guys are walking like a bunch of old people hurry up."

dean chuckled at your quip while mia rolled her eyes instead. "I thought you said you didn't want to come to the arcade."

a dramatic gasp left trent's mouth. "she would never. arcades bring back so many memories for us."

a lump formed in your throat when he said that, your heartbeat speeding up at the memory of the incident less than a year ago. the two of you swore never to talk about it again, but you couldn't deny that ever since that evening something between you two shifted.

you were brought back from your daze by the gentle touch of trent's hand on the small of your back. "I'll promise to let you win this time though."

with that, he dragged you off to the token station, leaving behind a very confused dean and a fed-up mia. "I thought you said that they're not together?" dean muttered loud enough for his girlfriend to hear and she clicked her tongue.

"they're not."

40 minutes passed and you and trent were back at it again. it was two completely different sights for the people in the arcade. on one hand, dean and mia were at one claaw machine, giggling and gently guiding each other the best they could to successfully grab the plushy.

and then there was you and trent right beside them at the other claw machine. to say that you were screaming at each other would be an understatement, the both of you swearing that the other wasn't going to get it in, shoving each other at the side to take over.

"no, not that one!" you screamed as you watched trent move the claw with indescribable concentration to find the correct ninja turtle plushy. "mikey is the one with the orange mask!"

a stressed huff left trent's lips. "baby, I can get you a private meet-up with mbappe instead! it's practically the same thing!"

you didn't register the term of endearment at all and instead continued to whine about the plushy until he finally got it. 5 attempts later. but it was done and it was worth it to see you smile that beautifully.

you looked up at him and nudged his arm. "you see. that wasn't too difficult."

he shook his head in disagreement and took your hand into yours again to drag you over to the basketball machine. "you owe me for that later."

you brushed his comment off with a scoff, not thinking much of it.

the evening continued and you couldn't deny that it was the most fun you've had in a while. that and trent had become way more touchy than usual. were you complaining though? hell no.

the basketball machine was one thing but then you stumbled across the photo booth at the back of the arcade, which was surprisingly empty. you tried your best to walk past it as quickly as possible but he spotted it, and you knew what was coming.

a cheeky smile drew to his lips. "I'd like to cash in that favour now."

no. that was your answer, plain and simple. not after what happened last time you were in there. the memory alone was enough to have you feeling lightheaded.

the embarrassed look on your face didn't go unnoticed, and that made him chuckle a bit. it took you a bit of convincing and to no one's surprise, you found yourself on the right side of the photo booth with trent sitting beside you closing this curtain.

"talk about deja vu," he said jokingly which earned him a slap on the arm, out of embarrassment more than anything else.

nevertheless, you shook off your nerves and got on with it. it was just a few pictures, what's the worst that could happen?

the pictures started normally, just as playful and cute as you'd hoped and the photobooth was echoing with laughter and banter as usual, that was until you turned to look at trent only to realise just how close you were.

it went quiet for a moment, and before you knew it your lips were on his. now this was deja vu. he knew exactly what he was doing when he said that you should take these pictures and you weren't any smarter to say no.

the featherlight touch of his fingers beneath your shirt was the reason you pulled away. unlike your bashful expression, trent was smiling from ear to ear.

"okay, now that was on you," he said playfully and you groaned. "last year it was me, I admit that, but this time you kissed me."

your words were lodged in your throat and you found yourself unable to speak, or move, or anything really. the heat that was on your cheeks spread throughout your entire body and all you wanted to do was hide in a hole.

after a moment of recollection, you were met with a look of anticipation from trent who was waiting for you to say something. you sighed and nodded your head, "yeah, this one was on me."

"yes!" he clapped in victory and took the two photo strips, and took the one where you were kissing for himself.

before you could interject, his lips met your again for a peck. "I'm glad the feeling is mutual. let's hurry back to my house, I need to explore these new found feelings of ours with a little more space than a photobooth."

hopeless. you were utterly hopeless as you found yourself trying to suppress your smile, and the sound of mia saying, "oblivious is in understatement."

yname added to their story

[glow-worms-are-believers]

End in View (dp x dc)

The rooftop is rough beneath Dani and the cold seeps through the gravel and through her layers of clothing as she lays there, breathing. There are no stars visible in the sky. Maybe it’s the rainclouds, maybe it’s the Gotham smog, she doesn’t know. It’s a shame in any case. She’s never liked the stars like Danny does but she still appreciates a little stargazing here and then.

She hears a zipping sound in the distance coming closer, then there’s a thump a bit further away from her on the rooftop and Dani cranes her neck. She sees the upside-down image of a masked man in a skintight black-and-blue suit. She knows him, Might-wings or something. She drops her head, looking back up into the dark sky.

“Hey kiddo, what’re you doing?” The man asks as she hears him walk a little closer.

“Dying,” she says wryly.

Worst part is that it’s true. Her unstable mess of a body is breaking down. She’s taking ecto-shots every morning now instead of every month like when she was twelve years old. Soon the only thing that’ll be able to sustain her properly will be the Infinite Realm and its constant ambient ectoplasm. And even then, she knows it won’t be enough. She’s seen Frostbite’s face after her latest check-up and she saw Danny’s knuckles go white after the yeti repeated for him what he told her.

“Aren’t we all?” The vigilante teases back.

Dani huffs a bit, though her mind is only half-there. This in-between state is dangerous for you. You cannot continue like this for long.

“I happen to have a timeline though, thank you very much,” Dani says and she tries for levity but the words ring too true for that.

What are you saying?

You have to die. Fully.

The vigilante’s breath hitches before he lets out a small “Oh.”

“Doctor says I’ve got about two months,” Dani says casually. “So, I figured I’d see the sights. Travel around a bit.”

“What about your parents?” The man asks, sitting down.

“My dad will be glad when I’m gone,” Dani answers and ignores the pinch to the heart the thought induces.

There’s a silence that stretches for a bit before he breaks it. “That’s awful,” he says quietly.

“It’s whatever. I’ve got my brother anyways.” Dani shrugs. “He’s stuck back home but he’ll come by when he can, which, knowing the kind of shit that goes down back home, won’t be often.” She pauses. “Not like I need him for the list.”

“The list?” The black-and-blue vigilante - Heightwing? - asks.

“My list of things to do before I die,” Dani says. “You know: get drunk, learn to knit, rob a bank. Normal teenager stuff.”

“Anything your local vigilante could help with?”

“You offering?”

“Sure,” he says.

Dani sits up and she sees the vigilante - Nightwing! That’s it! - do the same. She squints into the white lens and he stares back calmly.

“I want to go to Batburger,” she decides. “I want to try the fries.”

He gives her a blinding smile.

“Coming right up,” he chirps before getting out a sleek-looking grapple gun and holds out his other hand. “Ready to fly?”

“Born ready,” she says and takes his hand.

[casualheizouenjoyers]

- secrets i have held in my heart

featuring: jing yuan, bailu, yanqing, reader

warnings: a bit angsty ig, hanahaki au, blood, sickness, throwing up, coughing and just general sick stuff

Orchids grow where others cannot.

This phrase reigns especially true when orchids begin to grow in your body. Scratching your throat and clogging up your lungs. 

You try to laugh it off as a small cough, a small sickness, as if the whole thing didn’t fill you with dread when you thought about the invasive plant infesting your every breath. 

It isn’t until finally you violently cough over your sink that a bloodied white orchid petal came fluttering out.

Were… you some form of mara struck? You wondered in confusion at the collection of petals that grew with each hack of your lungs. 

The high elder —Bailu— immediately takes up your case. Which is potentially concerning as you’ve gone to about possibly any doctor that will see you for some kind of explanation to your floral fever and none of them have had anything good to say. 

In fact, they have nothing to say about your illness. No one knew what was causing the orchids to bloom, making a home of your decaying body; a pretty parasite taking you ahold. 

The little Vidyadhara girl frowned upon seeing the collection of whole flowers and crumbled petals, all coated with a splattered layer of dried blood. 

Bailu’s eyes squinted as she observed the floral. 

Perhaps, it was some kind of achievement that you had every doctor and healer on the luofu stumped at your conditions? 

It isn’t until you’re coughing out another flower, this time red covering it was still vibrant and liquid, that the healer decided you were some form of mara struck and needed to be monitored closely. Even as she wrote out her prescription and made you promise to come back the next week, you could tell she wasn’t too sure about what she was saying.

That did absolutely nothing to calm your nerves. 

You go home after collecting your prescription and puke out leaves and stems along with the flowers. 

Despite your sickness, work is work, you decided, and working as a tutor was fulfilling for you. You hope —prayed— that the sight of your favorite student, Yanqing, would bring you some form of joy. The lesson went smoothly, though it was clear your student’s mind was up in the clouds, but you didn’t comment about it as yours was rooted deep elsewhere. 

With the closing of the textbook, Yanqing’s eyes light up. 

“Can we swordfight now?” The teenaged boy asked.

You almost said no.

You had realized early on that Yanqing would do his work and pay attention better if you found a way to relate it to swordsmanship, or if you promised that the two of you would spar a little after a lesson. 

There was a growing weakness in your body. It seemed that describing the flowers as a parasite wasn’t inaccurate, as every day went on you felt them drain the energy out of you. 

Yanqing waited for your response.

You nodded, standing up and picking up your sword from where it rested on a wall. Once, you had used it as a cloud knight, now it only ever saw use when teaching the blonde boy. 

Yanqing excitedly ran to the other side of the room, drawing his sword and getting into position. He paused, looking over at you.

When did your eyes become so sunken in? Your hand shook as you held your sword up and it became increasingly clear to Yanqing that you were in no position to swordfight. 

Your student called out your name, a hint of concern in his voice. 

“I— Give me a moment—” You called out, placing a hand on your head as a sudden headache came, making your vision blur and your legs lose balance as you head tumbling for the floor.

Yanqing tossed his sword far away as he slid to catch you. 

Bailu is halfway through her yearly appointment with the general when you come in with Yanqing by your side.

You mumbled apologies for the interruption and swore on your life you were fine. 

You had honestly not realized how bad things had gotten in the few days from the last time you had seen the healer.

Your heart fluttered at the sight of Jing Yuan.

The orchid also fluttered out of your mouth in a set of coughs that leave you out of breath on the ground, Yanqing down at your side again. 

There are multiple voices speaking but your mind can focus on none of them. 

Jing Yuan helped you up and you feel your heart clench up as a choke comes to your throat.

More orchids. 

He whispered to you in a soft voice, trying to help you through this coughing fit as Yanqing explained the situation that had happened just a few minutes before. 

Bailu watched this, shock painted on the girls face as she realized two truths.

You were indeed mara struck, just with a rare mutation that had gone out thousands of years ago. 

You were also in love with the general

and it was going to be the death of you.

[sepublic]

Interesting that pop culture portrays Van Helsing as an experienced, seasoned vampire hunter, when it's pretty clear in the novel that this is his first go around with the whole thing, his first confirmation they actually exist, and in other words he's basically winging it and hasn't necessarily thrown a punch in his entire life (Which means he can’t just throw hands with Dracula, he needs research and backup to organize the perfect trap where they won’t be instantly killed). VH doesn’t always know what’s going on, he’s figuring things as he goes along; Like yeah he's HEARD of vampires, but it's never been anything prominent to him.

If anything, his past with vampires is probably similar to a lot of readers; Familiar with the concept, knows some of the details but not all of them, and definitely presumes them fake. He sees something going on with his patient and is like Haha damn that's just like a vampire, wouldn't it be crazy if... And then he slowly starts settling into conspiracy theory mode when more and more dots show up to conveniently connect, as he does the obligatory Protagonist Searching Stuff Up bit and realizes Mein Gott!!! It might be a vampire!!!

But then at the last second VH reminds himself, Now hold on, have I actually SEEN this vampire??? But it won't do anyone harm if I added some garlic flowers, right...? And then it just gradually escalates from there into full-on paranoia and dread that vampires exist and VH needs to desecrate the dead, and then he finally gets confirmation when he sees an Undead Lucy. What the fuck.

I think there's an argument to be made that Van Helsing was doubting himself just as much as Seward and the others initially did, if not more so, and he can’t even talk to anyone about it; So there’s an elation where you finally talk to others and realize it’s really happening, you’re not crazy.

This just ties into the theme of recording that which you did see, which is indisputable, because it’s evidence and proof. So you can be certain you aren't totally insane, and can distinguish facts from assumptions and theories if necessary; Especially when one needs to consider other explanations for the same symptoms. There’s a relief confirming what is and isn’t real to dispel self-doubt, like there was for Jonathan, who also suffered from Dracula’s gaslighting distorting his perception of reality.

I think all of this makes Van Helsing's actions and secrecy a lot more understandable when handling Lucy; If you hired a doctor and he suddenly started bringing up vampires, you might be inclined to think he's insane, doesn't know what he's talking about, and has read too many vampire stories and probably believes in 'alternative' medicine. Van Helsing still has an image and reputation to uphold here, and if it's gone, he can't actually be there to help Lucy if he turns out to be right.

That isn't to say he isn't without critique, especially in later portions of the novel, but you can kinda see where this underdog stance of "I'm right and the others around me are wrong" gets vindicated and thus develops into a bit of arrogance later down the line; Particularly, in presuming his disagreements with Mina to be no different than his secrecy with Seward and Mrs. Westenra.

In the end, VH could be described as a character who wonders if he's in the novel Dracula (compared to Jonathan who knows he's in a horror story of some kind but can't name the genre), but then has to remind himself this is reality... If this is a story, it’s probably just some medical drama. And when VH does accept he's in the novel Dracula, he assumes his character development and the lessons he learns are straightforward.

[annegrey]

hola como estas? Espero que tu estés muy bien 💕 te quisiera pedir un one shot de acontinuacion de "dos por el precio de uno" one shot de kelly piquet x max verstappen x reader (poly) , que pasaría si la lectora queda embarazada y ellos no pueden quitarle las manos de encima , muchísimas gracias 😊 ( esto esta en español, soy latina) ( lo siento si no lo entiendes , amo tu forma de escribir) 💕💕

Hi! First, thank you so much, it really means a lot to me that you guys ask and comment and overall engage with my stuff! ❤️ I hope I (or rather the translator 😂) understood correctly, and it is just what you hoped for! And now, everyone, the next story in my "Two for the price of one" universe!

Pregnancy cravings

- A "Two for the price of one" story

Max x fem!pregnant!Reader x Kelly

At first, you had been terrified. Kelly already had a child, and neither of your lovers ever said something about having another baby. But somehow, it happened. You became pregnant.

Being who you are, you returned to your standard-method: ignoring, denying and avoiding. Bottling things up. The problem was, this time you had someone who cared about you, who knew that you were behaving weird, and one evening Max and Kelly sat you down to talk.

You were about to deny everything, to make up some reasons, tired from work, feeling misplaced in their world of glamour, having fallen in love with somebody else, anything. But, looking in their faces, you couldn’t lie. You broke down in tears, burying your face in your hands and sobbed. Immediately they sat next to you, hugging you at the same time, whispering words of comfort and love, and you couldn’t help yourself. You spilled everything. On how you missed your period, how you took a pregnancy test, how you went to your doctor to be sure. Just to always get the same answer: you were pregnant.

For a moment everything was quiet, and you feared the worst. That they decided to kick you out, to force you to make an abortion, that they hated you. But instead, you were hugged again, two faces rubbing into your shoulders.

“Why didn’t you tell us?”, Max whispered, his voice breaking, while Kelly’s arms around you tightened. Your small “I was afraid” ripped a sound out of Max, as if he was punched. And then a litany of apologies began, them fearing they didn’t make you feel loved and save enough to tell them, while you tried to make clear it was because you were sure the problem was yourself.

That night, you ended up cuddling under the sheets, three different hands on your belly, and always somebody else giggling, because… holy shit, you were pregnant.

This had been some time ago, as well as the slightly awkward talk with Penelope, because how do you explain a child that the baby, while being deeply loved by her mother and (kind of) stepfather, wasn’t her sibling? But in the end, she said she was going to be a big sister, and that was that.

Now was a completely different situation.

Kelly and Max made sure you always felt loved and comfortable, going so far as to literally beg you to go early maternity leave, as they obviously would have no problem with supporting you, and after three months of whining, begging, arguments and sweet talking, you gave in. You were five months pregnant when you started to stay at home, and the sometimes smug, sometimes proud smiles on their faces, as well as the fact that you didn’t want to fall asleep every five minutes told you you made the right decision.

And with their love came their passion. Both of them gave their everything, no matter the situation.

You were eight months along right now, sprawled out on your back on the soft mattress and some supporting pillows, while Max massaged your sore tits and Kelly your baby bump. Your sex drive had been HIGH, in capital letters, and Kelly just grinned at times, while Max had already thrown his shirt somewhere in the corner and gone down on you.

She was truly heaven-sent during everything, whether it was pain or pleasure, because she could truly relate. Your experiences might not be the same, but still, having gone through a pregnancy herself made her more empathetic towards you.

And Max… was down to sex whenever you dropped even the slightest hint. To say you were well taken care of was an understatement.

Because of that, by now it was completely normal for you to grab Max’ head and push him down towards your tits, moaning as you felt the deft tongue and soft suckling, while lifting your hips towards Kelly.

Before, she had always been the dominating one in your relationship, making you and Max beg and suffer, but your pregnancy seemed to make it impossible to both of them to keep their hands of you, and thus fulfilled your every desire.

Just like now, a hand slipped between your legs and started to circle your clit, drawing a moan out of your throat. You felt Max smirk against your nipple, and pressed him down again for a second, making clear what you thought about him being distracted.

This was also nothing new, that both of them were just taking care of you without any plan of getting off themselves. But with how often you demanded an orgasm it was probably impossible for them to keep up with you. Not like any of you three complained.

You let out a sigh of content and pleasure as the soft treatment went on, not pushing you towards the brink, but slowly carrying you there. Just how you loved it during times like these. Max’ mouth on your tit, his hand massaging the other one, and Kelly kissing your baby bump and rubbing your clit in the way you loved was the epitome of a perfect night for you.

A small whine left your lips when Max bit your nipple, and you pulled his hair as a reprimand, before mumbling “Faster, I wanna cum…” And just like any time you slept with each other during your pregnancy, your wish was their command.

Max started to truly massage your nipples in the way you loved, and Kelly sped up, before completely switching course and putting her mouth on your core. A loud moan was torn from you, and you placed both your hands in her hair to pull her closer, something you wouldn’t dare under normal circumstances.

But now she just complied to your silent command, and did her best, which was truly a dream, to make you cum. Maybe it was because she simply knew how she liked it, but it always boggled your mind how amazing she was at giving head.

It literally didn’t take you more than five minutes, maybe the pregnancy hormones were to blame, to finally reach your end, and you laid there gasping and sweaty – when did that happen? – while both of them looked like two cats that got the cream. Smug bastards. But you loved them. So you simply grinned back at them, probably looking high as fuck. (Ha!)

“Better now?”, Kelly asked, and you stretched with a satisfied smile and nodded. “Okay, then how about I help you to the shower and Max changes the sheets?” Immediately a disgruntled “Hey!” was heard but shot down with a “I changed them last time”, and you just giggled. “Yeah, sounds good.”

[livwritesstuff]

It’s late in the day when Sam Owens first approaches Eddie.

Eddie is sitting in a lawn chair on the edge of Joyce and Hopper’s backyard in Hawkins, Indiana, and sort of trapped there ever since his and Steve's daughter Moe had dozed off in his lap a little while ago.

For the record, Eddie and Steve don’t live in Hawkins. They’d have to be insane to stick around after everything this hole of a town put them through, never mind willingly choose to raise a child there. No, Hopper had bullied them into making the trek home to celebrate Moe's first birthday (Jesus H. Christ, she's one) and by the looks of how crowded the yard is, he'd done the same to practically the entire rest of the Party too.

Eddie isn't actually trapped either. It's true that he doesn't really want to tempt fate by waking Moe up from a nap that he and Steve had sort of resigned themselves to skipping that day, but he could get up if he wanted to. He's a whole sap in his big age of thirty-six though, and extremely aware of how quickly Moe’s first year of life had flown by. He'd be a damn fool to not relish in these moments, when Moe is a baby still, when she's little enough to fall asleep in his lap like this.

So he's sitting and he's letting his mind wander down whatever rabbit-holes it ventures upon because he's not just a sap these days, he's getting retrospective too.

Twenty years after all the shit that went down in his Hawkins, Eddie considers himself a secondary character in it all (even though it hadn’t felt like it at the time – that’s for fucking sure). 

Honestly, he'd really only been involved in about five days out of several years of that shit – not in the know yet for the first part, and unconscious for the end of it – secondary character stuff, in Eddie’s opinion (and as a two-time published novelist, he’d be the one to know).

It's probably for the best, to be honest. He barely survived even the secondary stuff — with a mostly-full picture of everything that happened over those three years he feels pretty positive that if he’d gone through anything more he wouldn’t have been so lucky. 

And these days, in July of 2002, he’s feeling pretty lucky too. 

“Doc,” Eddie nods as Owens takes the empty chair beside his own.

Owens is another one of these secondary characters in everything. Owens is…Eddie isn’t sure who Owens is, to be honest. A doctor in some capacity, he's fairly certain, and also a scientist too in some capacity given how he’s still in Hawkins doing research on all that shit — and he roped Dustin into it too (though as far as Eddie can tell, Dustin is a more-than willing victim in it and goddamn thrilled to be taking over his work someday too).

Someday soon, Eddie would wager, because Owens is well and truly reaching retirement age – he probably should have retired already, honestly, but Eddie can also sort of see why it might be difficult to step away from the kind of work he’s spent his life doing.

“Mr. Munson,” Owens greets him in return. Eddie watches his eyes flick down to Moe for a moment, “Or is it Pops these days?”

“That’s Steve, actually,” he replies, tipping his head in the direction of Steve, who’s standing at the grill with Hop (they’re listening to Dustin ramble about something and wearing matching beleaguered expressions).

Owens seems to understand the implication, because his only response is another one of those wry smiles and an exhaled laugh.

“Well, congratulations either way. I was very happy for you when I heard the news about the adoption.”

“Still keeping tabs on us after all these years?” Eddie asks, mostly joking because he knows the answer is yes. He knows they’ll have eyes on them for the rest of their lives for one reason or another (which he’s nearly made his peace with by now).

“Well, old habits die hard,” Owens replies somewhat tiredly, “Or something to that effect.”

Eddie doesn't really have anything to say in response, so he opts to say nothing, instead running a hand over Moe's hair — it's getting long these days, not quite long enough to style yet but long enough that she shakes her head to get it out of her eyes and knocks herself off-balance which is so so cute.

“I’ll admit," Owens continues after a while, "When I first met you, this isn’t where I thought you’d end up.”

“Yeah, you and me both, Doc," he laughs, because it's true.

“What I mean to say," he pauses, "It suits you.”

Moe chose that moment to finally stir, snuffling a bit as she lifts her head and looks at him with those beautiful brown eyes of hers.

"Good nap, bug?" he asks quietly.

She responds with a bleary, "Dada" (which she had only just started saying a few weeks ago and it goddamn kills Eddie every single time) as she nuzzled her cheek against his shoulder.

He hears Owens let out a soft chuckle.

“You’re really milking this, bug," Eddie says as presses a kiss onto the top of her head, "I think he gets it.”