#i hope this still makes sense once i've slept on it.

[scary-senpai]

Weird Writing Ask 5: Do you have any writing superstitions? What are they and why are they 100% true?

Weird Writing asks, my beloved!

If I feel really, really confident about the first draft, it is probably irrevocably broken in some way. I can usually feel this nagging at me a little during the drafting process, and instead of sitting with it--for example, writing something I know will not work just to exorcise all the mistakes from my system, I push the thought out of my mind and go full speed ahead, toward the inexorable iceberg of lost time.

Luckily, my first drafts tend to be broken in the same way: pithy plot (I sort of envision scattered particles that are lost in space and not coming together well), or unsatisfying (which I envision like a puzzle that is poorly assembled/missing pieces), or out of character (I have trouble visualizing the scenes at all--just blurry figures moving around a blank space), or too far-fetched in a way that is neither karmic nor comedic nor particularly satisfying (this feels like a tangled thread).

...and sometimes, my first draft is just downright incomprehensible to others (I look at the sheet of paper and think: "wow, a lot of my brain is missing from here.")

When a draft full evolves from the "word salad" phase and achieves "it's all over but the spell check" phase, it's a bit like finally getting an orchestra to tune all the way.

So I guess, in summary, my superstition is that I have a mystical six sense that goes 'ding ding ding' when I'm heading in the right direction when in reality I'm just working very, very thoughtfully (and usually very, very hard). You know... a little like those old wives tales that have an element of truthiness--they're modestly helpful on their own and infinitely helpful when dissected under a microscope, because then those truths can be better understood and shared/applied with other people.

I really don't believe in divine inspiration / "natural artistic talent" / "innate genius" anymore, although I used to (at face value, it's a very pretty thing to believe). If people tell me they like my writing and/or that I'm gifted, I thank them, but I also emphasize that I have also worked very, very hard. If I'm gifted with anything, it's a flexible work schedule and the ability to set aside consistent time for my hobbies.

There's this ongoing argument about whether or not you can teach talent and, idk, the more I think about it, the more I feel like it discourages people from helping others and/or growing themselves. IDK. I always feel a little sad when I hear people say, "oh, I could never do that, I'll never be as good as so-and-so." I think you can, I believe in you, and who knows? Art is subjective; maybe in somebody's eyes, you already are.

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddieholidaydrabbles.

Were You Wooing Me?

Prompt Day 11: Cabin | Word Count: 769 | Rating: T | CW: Language | Tags: Post S4, Eddie Munson Lives, Dustin Henderson: Matchmaker, Background Ronance (or not, your choice), Acting on Feelings, First Kiss,

It could be worse.

It could be better, too.

But it could definitely be worse. In the pro column, it's not located in the Upside Down, Steve supposes. But Henderson could have also not talked it up quite as much as he did. It looks like his great-grandparents just walked out one day and never returned. 

"Is there really only one bed?" Robin asks, pacing around the cabin, as if another room is suddenly gonna appear. 

"Looks that way," Nancy says, and Steve is pretty sure there's not room for more than one bedroom here. But Dustin swore there was room for all four of them, easy. 

He's a dirty, little liar.

Eddie's settled into the old rocking chair, and is gently keeping himself swaying. He's always moving as far as Steve can tell, but right this second he's looking distinctly unbothered for Eddie.

"You two take the bedroom, we can crash on the floor," Eddie says, and Steve thinks that's awfully generous of him. But it does make the most sense. He can't imagine listening to Robin yap about being stuck on the floor. 

This will be easier for everyone. Even if it means he has to sleep on the floor with the mice.

Fuck, he hopes there's not mice.

The girls go to bed, and he can hear them in the bathroom, washing their faces or whatever it is that girls do once they are in a bathroom together.

Eddie has started a fire, and it's actually warming up nicely. Steve has squatted down in front of the fire, rubbing his hands together as Eddie bustles around behind him. Steve's leaving him to it. Eddie was quite adamant that he didn't want, nor need, Steve's help.

It's still the floor, so Steve isn't getting too excited. But at least they probably won't freeze to death. They did bring a pile of extra blankets, just in case, because Nancy made them, and Steve's happy about that, now. This place wasn't exactly ready for guests. Eddie gathered up their share of the blankets, and said he was making them a pallet on the floor. Steve's not really sure what that means, but he lets Eddie do his thing.

"Tada," Eddie sing-songs, and Steve turns his way.

Whoa, it looks just like a bed, just without a mattress.

"Wow, how'd you learn how to do that?" Steve asks, and he's almost scared to mess it up.

"Wayne," Eddie answers. "I stayed with him a lot as a kid, and he'd always make me a pallet bed. Most of the time it was better than anything I had at home."

Steve swallows. That's a depressing thought. 

"That was before he had to give me his room when I moved in officially to make the state happy, of course. He bought a roll-away at an old motel auction for himself. It was never as good as his pallets, though."

Steve bets they made Eddie feel special, because hell, this right here tonight makes Steve feel special. It's not just a pile of blankets on the floor, which is definitely what Steve would have done if he'd been in charge.

"It looks really nice," Steve says, "thanks, Eddie. I would have just slept on the hardwood floor."

Eddie laughs. 

"Just get in bed, Harrington."

They lay shoulder-to-shoulder. Steve has been feeling some feelings about Eddie for a while now and he's just pushed it all down as deep as he could hide it. Sure that Eddie wasn't interested.

But, well. Maybe. 

Everything he's done tonight feels a little bit like wooing. 

And Steve?

He'd really like to be wooed. 

It's quiet between them, only the crackling fire providing background noise. It's a comfortable silence, though. 

But Steve still can't help himself.

"Were you wooing me?" Steve asks, and immediately regrets opening his mouth.

Eddie laughs, and Steve kind of wants to jump in that fire just to escape this. He shouldn't have said anything. He feels like a fool.

"I've been wooing you for months, Harrington. You just realized that?"

"Yes," Steve says, then adds, "No. I don't know. I didn't want to assume."

"Assume away."

And Steve wants to, he really, really wants to. 

Steve rolls onto his side, so he can see Eddie better. Eddie rolls onto his side as well, meeting him face-to-face.

"You think Henderson did this on purpose?" Steve asks.

"Oh, hell yes he did," Eddie says, and Steve smiles. 

He can't be that mad about it, then.

And Steve reaches out and cups Eddie's cheek, leaning in, his lips pressing to Eddie's for the very first time.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddieholidaydrabbles and follow along with the fun!

[mclacedes]

A Fading Echo (LH44)

CHAPTER I: Taste Karma.

hello beautiful babes! here's a little something i've been wanting to write for a while now and just flew out of me randomly!! hope you enjoy this and hope this makes any sense at all :)

warnings: breakup, abu dhabi ‘24, lewis leaving mercedes, lewis in ferrari, lack of XNDA songs, partner moving on.

“it isn't only how he died, but that he died believing. and so i try to be kind to everything i see. and in everything i see, i see him.”

— Hanya Yanagihara, “A Little Life”

this is slightly inspired by Hanya Yanagihara's book "A Little Life", but THIS IS NOT A RECOMMENDATION from me and THIS DOES NOT mean I like that book at all !!!

also, there's a part II for it, so lmk if you like it :)

End of season. Last race. Last race with Mercedes.

This was the end of an era, but the start of an age. A new chapter in this long book, filled with broken records and (un)fulfilled dreams.

There was only last thing he wanted though. A thing he’d never done.

To release an album.

+44, his first album, would come out in a few hours and nobody even knew it.

Lewis had poured countless hours into it, refining each lyric, melody, and harmony until every note fitted just right.

Every detail was thoroughly planned, every step thoughtfully envisioned. The photoshoot was booked, the interview responses rehearsed, the songs were ready. But one day, he realized the only thing that should be put together — his very self — was melting, breaking apart into millions of pieces of longing, sorrow, wrath and regret.

This should be a moment of fun, a moment of celebration, but the only thing he’d think about is how this album only exists because, at one point, he had you — the best thing that ever happened to him, his confidant, his partner in crime.

But, as of now, there's no you in his life and, apparently, no space for him in yours.

Now you’re a fading echo, a ghost haunting every inch of his life, lurking in the back of his mind so he can get a glimpse of your broken-hearted gaze in your salted-water-drowned eyes when he closes his.

Your laugh still echoes through the paddocks around the world; he still knows every word of the prayer you’d mutter every time he climbed into the cockpit. You are in his houses, cars, clothes, and everything he is now—a wreckage.

There's a simple routine he follows, absentmindedly, now that you're gone: he smiles when he sees you in a small detail of his life; then his heart tightens painfully, suffocating him. When the stars fall at night, he lies awake in the darkness of his room and his own mind, clutching the pillow you once slept on, desperately trying to grasp some semblance of solace and familiarity. Lewis lingers there, until your vanilla scent fades away completely as he drifts into the restless awareness of his subconscious—his dreams, in which you've never left and still loved him. In his perfect, tailor-made utopia, you can bring yourself to look into his eyes and say you forgive him.

But reality has other plans. Like always.

He just wanted to get through today.

Yes, the Universe is vast and gracious, munificent and indulgent, and Lewis knows this. But, today, his last race with Mercedes in a track that holds so much memory, the Universe had made its mind: the winds of fate would play a trick on him.

This morning, after waking from a dream of you in your favorite park in France, laughing about babies and tracing shapes in the clouds, he never imagined he’d want to leave the paddock as soon as he entered it.

On the drive to Yas Marina, it hadn’t crossed his mind that he might see you, hand in hand with that one actor—Jensen Ackles—who you used to gush over.

As he signed caps, mini helmets, and photos for his fans, not for a single moment did he expect to catch sight of you in the paddock, wearing rosso corsa, cheering on Ferrari—Ferrari, of all teams. The same red team you used to roll your eyes at. The same red team that the man beside you had so often boasted about supporting. The same team that he had signed a contract with.

None of it had been his choice, and yet his entire body betrayed him the moment his eyes landed on you; as though someone had fastened his feet to the ground, he was unable to walk. He not only couldn’t move, but he felt like air didn't get to his lungs so he couldn't breathe, and there was nothing more interesting than the scene in from of him so he couldn’t look away.

For a second there, he wished you were ugly. He wished your eyes didn’t glisten when you honestly found something funny, that your dress didn't perfectly frame your body, and your teeth were broken. He wished there were flaws he could cling to, reasons to justify hating you; he wished he could have the strength within himself to fall out of love. But you were too unattainable for him to let go.

And, God, you were glowing. Your smile beamed, your hair fell perfectly just the way he likes it, and then—what. is. that?

Your hand laid slightly over your belly.

Your left hand rested on your belly, right where your womb would be.

Your left hand, with its delicate fingers, bore a ring—a massive diamond that caught the sunlight in a cruel, mocking glint.

And then there was him. Jensen Ackles, the so-called antichrist, standing behind you with his arms wrapped around you like you belonged to him. His hold was possessive, unyielding, as though he’d fight tooth and nail to keep you. But he did seem like he was happy. And the worst part about it is that you seemed too.

Lewis’s heart rate spiked, pounding in his chest, his thoughts racing faster than the W15 ever could.

“Is she pregnant? They're engaged? Are they married already? When is the baby due?”

And then, just before he turned away, one final thought slipped through the chaos in his mind: taste karma.

[milfsloverblog]

Secret Benefits (NSFW)

Part 2 (part 1 here)

Sugar mommy!Larissa Weems x fem!reader

A/N: This took a while, but it's finally here. And good news, I've got most of part 3 written already! In this part, Larissa and reader enter the vicious circle of both thinking the other one don't want them like /that/. We might be in for some slow burn, people! Hope you’ll enjoy! <3

You startled awake, hair clinging to your sweaty forehead and an unpleasant, incessant throbbing between your legs. You had dreamt of her, again.

It had been four days since you’d met with Larissa, and you’d been having those wet dreams ever since.

It always started the same way, you’d go through the evening you’d shared at the restaurant, and everything was exactly the same except for what happened when she’d drop you off at your place. You’d invite her in and she’d agree to follow you. You’d barely have time to step into your flat when her lips would attach themselves to your neck, kissing and nipping at the sensitive flesh and making you lose all sense of time and space.

The rest of the dream would happen very quickly, Larissa would have you on any surface of your flat she’d see fit - which had included your sofa, the wall, the kitchen counter and your dining table. She’d hike up your dress and get rid of the lacy thong she’d bought you, shoving it inside her handbag.

“Don’t pout, sweetling,” she’d whisper in your ear, her slender fingers finding their way to your heat. “I promise to buy you more.”

You could only writhe and whimper as she teased you, her digits moving in excruciating slow circles on your clit until she’d decide you’d have had enough and would push two of her fingers knuckle deep inside you, making your breath hitch in a loud gasp.

Larissa’s eyes would never leave your face as she’d relentlessly pound into you. She delighted in the way the right corner of your mouth twitched with each thrust of her fingers, how your brows furrowed deeper and deeper each time she stroked that sweet spot inside you.

You would feel the coil tightening dangerously behind your navel, bringing you closer to your well-deserved release as you’d beg your lover to keep going. Please, Larissa, please, please, please.

And then you’d wake up. You’d find yourself staring at the ceiling of your bedroom, your core aching from another ruined orgasm.

You groaned loudly as you peeled yourself from your bed and headed to the bathroom, taking a single glance at your dishevelled form in the mirror before shedding your pyjamas and stepping in the shower.

How easy it would be, to slip your hand between your legs and give yourself the release that you’d been denied for the last four days. But it wouldn’t be right. You didn’t want this, whatever this was between Larissa and yourself, to turn into something sexual. She would provide you with money and you would provide her with company, as you had both agreed on. Nothing more.

Your phone buzzed on the bedside table right as you walked back into your bedroom to get dressed. You didn’t need to check it to know who it was, Larissa had been sending you good morning texts for the last few days.

You finished getting ready for the day before picking up your phone to read her message.

Good morning, darling. I hope you slept well! Have a good day. Xx

You were almost tempted to tell her you hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in days but eventually refrained from doing so.

Good morning! Slept okay, hope you did too. Have a lovely day :)

You shoved your phone into your bag and hurried out of your flat, knowing you wouldn’t be getting another text from Larissa.

She’d text you once in the morning, then once or twice around noon when, you supposed, she was on her lunch break. After that, you wouldn’t be getting any news until at least 6 pm. At least, because once she hadn’t texted you before 8. You still didn’t know what her job was, but you couldn’t imagine being up at six in the morning only to finish your day so late at night.

As expected, you didn’t receive any more text until your own lunch break. You were out at a local cafe with your best friend, munching on your sandwich when your phone buzzed on the table.

Thinking of you, sweetling. Xx

A blush crept up your cheeks which you desperately tried hiding by taking a sip of water, but it wasn’t lost on your best friend.

“Is that your woman?” She smirked.

“Larissa is not my woman.”

“Oh right, sorry. Is that your sugar mommy, then?”

“Shut your mouth!” You groaned, swatting your friend’s arm.

You had told her about your evening with Larissa. Well, most of it. You didn’t mention the lacy thong or the fact that she’d picked your food.

“You still don’t want to do it?” She snapped you out of your thoughts.

“Do what?”

“Her.”

You rolled your eyes and put your sandwich down, wrapping it in its paper bag to finish it later.

“I’ve told you, I don’t want to feel like I’m selling my body for money.” You explained for what seemed to be the fifteenth time that week.

“Oh, come on! I would let a woman like her fuck me for free any time she wants.”

“Don’t be crass,” you said, shoving your sandwich into your bag. “Larissa is not like that, and neither am I. Now move, we need to get back to class.”

You typed in a quick answer to Larissa as you walked into your next class and sat down at your usual desk.

Thinking of you too. Wanna call tonight? I’d love to hear your voice and have a chat. No worries if not :)

Larissa was pouring herself a cup of coffee, her fourth that day, when she read your answer. You wanted to call her, to hear her voice. A small smile pulled at the corners of her lips as she sipped on her coffee and texted you back.

I would love that. I’ll text you when I’m done working. Xx

And so she did. You had been home for a couple of hours when your phone started ringing, making you run from the kitchen to the sofa to make sure you’d get it in time.

“Larissa! Hi!”

“Hello, darling. I hope it’s not too late?” Her British accent filled your flat as you pressed on the speaker button.

“No, no it’s not. Did you have a good day?” Truth be told, she did sound a little tired but you would never dare to bring it up.

“It was alright, not the worst day I’ve ever had.” She chuckled lowly, sending a shiver down your spine. “It’s a good day now, though. It’s nice to hear you.”

“It’s nice to hear you too, I thought it’d be better and easier than just texting back and forth.”

“Mhm…” Larissa hummed and you heard the distinctive ‘pop’ of a bottle being opened.

“Wine?” You asked, earning another chuckle from the woman on the phone.

“Red. Just one glass to help me relax.”

She needed it. She really needed it after the stunt that Wednesday had pulled that day.

“I wish I could share one with you,” you said, hearing Larissa pouring the wine into a glass.

“Do you?” Her voice seemed to have dropped an octave, and you wondered if her nostrils had flared like they’d done back at the restaurant.

“Yes, yes I do. I’d let you pick the wine, of course. I’d watch you pour it and wait for you to bring the glass to my lips.”

Larissa let out a shuddering breath, suddenly feeling extremely hot in her shirt. Her fingers swiftly moved to take care of unbuttoning the constricting piece of clothing, leaving her in a white bralette.

“Larissa?” You called when she hadn’t answered for a while.

“Yes, I’m here, darling. Simply lost in my thoughts.” Larissa admitted before taking a sip of wine.

“Are you thinking of me again?” You asked, deciding to try your luck.

Wine dribbled from the corner of Larissa’s mouth, rolling down her chin to quickly drip onto her chest. It would leave a stain, Larissa thought as she watched the crimson liquid soaking the lacy fabric of her bralette.

“Would you like that? Me thinking of you?” She eventually answered after another long silence.

“Maybe, yes.”

There was another silent moment as Larissa took another couple sips of wine before placing her glass on the coffee table.

She sighed loudly, wanting nothing more than to hike up her skirt and let her fingers explore her sex. It was such a shame that you weren’t interested in being intimate with her, she would have loved to listen to your heavy breathing as you’d touch yourself on the other side of the phone.

“I want to take you shopping this weekend, if you’re free,” She eventually said.

“Shopping?”

“Lingerie shopping, specifically. I want to treat you to a couple of sets. Would you be interested in that, sweetling?”

“Yes! Yes, I would love that. I’ve never really been lingerie shopping before.” But you wouldn’t pass on such an opportunity.

“Good. How about you call your work tomorrow, and let them know you won’t be able to be there on Saturday? I’ll take care of you.”

You knew what she meant by that, she’d hand you another one of those envelopes filled with a couple hundred dollars.

“I’ll call tomorrow.”

“Good.” Larissa sighed again.

She had emptied her glass, her right hand was groping at her body while the other one kept the phone pressed to her ear. She’d have to hang up soon, before she’d start fucking herself.

“Larissa?” You called again.

“Mhm? Yes, darling?”

“I should go, still need to take a shower and get everything ready for tomorrow… It was so nice to hear you, I hope we can do this again soon.”

“Any time you want, you only need to text me.”

“I will.” You promised. “Well, have a good night, Larissa.”

“Have a good night, darling.” She answered, biting her tongue as she thought of adding think of me.

You listened to her breathing for another second before hanging up and dropping yourself on your sofa.

God, that woman was hot. Her voice through the phone had made you soaking wet and it had taken everything within you to keep your hand out of your pants.

Back in her quarters, Larissa didn’t have as much self-control as you did. Her skirt had been hiked as soon as you had hung up, her legs parting to let her move her panties to the side.

“Oh, darling…” She breathed out as she eventually let her fingertips brush on her clit.

You had bewitched her, it seemed. If she didn’t know any better, Larissa would have wondered if you maybe were a siren.

The tall woman was halfway through fucking herself, the coil in her lower stomach tightening with each thrust of her fingers, when she suddenly realised how wrong this was.

She immediately pulled her fingers out of herself, her cheeks burning in embarrassment. You had made it clear that you didn’t want to have sex with her, and it wasn’t right for her to be touching herself thinking of you.

Larissa made her way over to the bathroom to thoroughly wash her hands, eventually opting for a full cold shower to clear her mind from any more sinful thoughts.

As you both got into bed that night, only a few miles away from each other, you both shared the same thought.

How on earth am I going to survive a lingerie shopping session with her?

———————————————————————

taglist: @raspburrythief @weemssapphic @readingtheentrails @larissaoftarthweems @principal-weems09 @kimiinou @winterfireblond @im-a-carnivorous-plant @geekyarmorel @h-doodles @azu-zu @barbarasstar @witchesmortuary @vigelvictoria @m1lflov3rrr @dumbasslesbi @crow-raven-crow @fridays-coven @lilfartbox1 @shawncantwrite @autumn-leaves-chasing-breeze @gwens0girl @aemilia19 @the-bagel24 @lvinhs @thefutureisus2020 @gela123 @a-queen-and-her-throne @rando-mango @wheresmyboo @my-silver-spring @hillary-nicks @ablsk @natasha29romanoff @tallvampirelady12 @canyoufeelmyheartsayinghi @moonyboyjay @i-love-nerdy-stuff @1-800-milfdilf @musicallovinggal @scarlettssub @jasperobsidian-blog @anoymous614372 @i-write-sometimes-maybe @brienne-the-brave @slytherinthepms @non-binary-frogking @wife-of-gwendolinechristie @anjo-iludidoefudido @imnotafruitt @opheliauniverse

[froggiewrites]

Hello! I was wondering if i could request a Zoro or a Law x gn! or m!reader with angst? They are in a fight and reader kinda ignores them and hides from them and Zoro or Law realize how in love they are with the reader? Can end however you want!

Sorry I've been so slow on requests, writer's block hit me pretty hard this week! I chose Zoro with a gn!reader for this one, it just seemed to fit him pretty well (man is not good with his emotions). I hope you enjoy it!

A Bridge Too Far

Pairing: Zoro x Reader

SFW

Summary: Zoro is terrible at handling his frustrations, and you're tired of being his punching bag. He doesn't realize what he's lost until it's gone. Warnings: Angst, Zoro being a bad boyfriend, not a happy but possibly a hopeful ending? Word Count: 2.3k

Like most of your arguments with Zoro, he started it.

He always starts it, even when he doesn’t want to. When his frustrations start to bubble, he can’t help but lash out at whoever’s closest, and that’s normally you. You’re always there, waiting for him, and you never hold it against him once he calms down. Frankly, they’re less arguments and more one-sided furious rants, as you never rise to the provocation. So he doesn’t think much of it when he snaps at you again after a particularly tough battle, one that left a buzzing under his skin and a strain in his muscles that he couldn’t shake. You wouldn’t mind. You never did.

A few minutes after you follow him to the training room, sitting quietly in the corner while he readies his swords, he finally snaps. “Will you just leave me alone for once? How am I supposed to relax with you trailing after me like this?”

You don’t just sit there and take it like you always do. You don’t just get up and leave, ready to come back when he’s calmer. You stare at him a moment, not radiating fury or indignation, simply…disappointment. Weariness. “Again?”

“What?” He snaps.

“We’re doing this again? Really?” You seem completely composed and calm. It infuriates him more than snapping ever could.

“What do you mean, doing this again? You following me around like a lovesick puppy? Yeah, I guess we are.” He hits the target in front of him harder, sending splintering wood everywhere. The sound of it pierces his brain, rattling around, making him feel even worse.

You sigh, sounding horribly burdened and beaten down. “You know what? Sure. Whatever. I’ll leave you alone, Zoro, if that’s what you want. But this is the last time. I’m not putting up with this anymore.”

He grits his teeth. “Won’t put up with this? Shouldn’t that be my line?”

Your eye twitches, finally a show of emotion, a show that he’s affecting you. “I’m not your punching bag, Zoro. I’m not here for you to use to work off your adrenaline instead of learning to deal with your emotions like an adult. I’m supposed to be someone you care about.” You finally stand, gathering your things and turning to leave. You don’t look back at him as you call, “You’re going to regret this, but I won’t.”

The door slamming echoes through the room, sounding horribly…final.

He ignores it.

It takes a few hours for him to finally wind down, for the buzzing to quiet and leave nothing but a blissful silence. He doesn’t bother cleaning up the wood all over the floor, or taking a shower to rid himself off all of the sweat. He has only one thought: his bed, warm and soft and welcoming. If he’s lucky, you’ll be in it, waiting for him to hold you close and kiss your face, the closest thing he’s ever given to an apology. He eagerly makes his way to the Sunny’s sleeping quarters, opening the door slowly to the cacophony of snores coming from Luffy and Franky, accompanied by Sanji, Chopper, and Usopp’s quiet breathing. Brook is still on deck, on watch for the night, so it makes sense his bunk is empty, but Zoro notices your bed is also suspiciously clear. Even your pillow and blanket are gone, the sheets not even wrinkled, as though no one had ever slept there at all.

A small part of him tells him he should check on you, make sure you’re alright. But a much larger, louder part is crying out for rest, and he cannot help but give in, falling face first onto his mattress without even changing clothes. He’s asleep within seconds.

He’s alone when he wakes up. He doesn’t typically sleep very long, instead napping in short bursts throughout the day, but he can see the light pouring in under the door and he realizes he must have slept at least until noon. He’s shivering, still on top of his blanket. Usually when he falls asleep like this, you throw one of the extras in your locker over him, tucking him in like a child. You must not have come back in at all last night.

He ignores the uncomfortable feeling nipping at him, something he will not name. You’re fine. You’re an adult, and one night away from your bed doesn’t mean anything.

But then you aren’t at lunch.

Sanji is giving him dirty looks, and Nami is giving him the most foul side-eye he’s ever had the displeasure of receiving. The rest of the crew are trying to act normal, but Franky is suspiciously absent and Usopp is so nervous he keeps dropping everything he tries to pick up, ending in him spilling water all over himself and taking the excuse to “take a second to go change” and never come back.

He finally breaks after Sanji brings Nami another drink, takes an obvious glance at him, and they start to whisper to each other. He makes out the words idiot, asshole, and loser (the first two from Nami and the latter from Sanji), before he slams his fork down. “What? What is it?”

Nami turns to him, filled with the sort of righteous fury she only saved for those who dare hurt her friends. “God, Zoro, you don’t even know? What’s wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you? You’re all acting weird as hell!”

Sanji jumps in. “Because you’re acting like a jerk and have the gall to pretend everything is normal, asshole! What the hell did you say to them yesterday?”

What he said to…oh. That feeling comes back again, and he furiously clamps down on it, replacing it with a significantly more comfortable and familiar indignance. “That’s none of your business, cook.”

“Oh, yeah? Well, I think I deserve to know why I had to find them sleeping in the goddamn kitchen this morning, actually.”

In the kitchen? Of course. It’s the one place you knew he would never find you. He never went there other than mealtimes, avoiding the possibility of another stupid fight with Sanji when he wasn’t up for it. “How the hell should I know?”

“Are you still pretending you don’t know it’s your fault? They were bawling their eyes out after leaving the training room.” Nami’s even angrier than Sanji is, and Zoro genuinely thinks she might hit him. The smaller, more tender part of himself, the one he’s ignoring, wouldn’t even blame her.

But that part isn’t in charge today. “My relationship isn’t your goddamn business.”

“Relationship? You seriously think you still have one of those?”

His blood runs cold, but he forces the feeling away, standing up from the table and stalking off. “I don’t have to take this.”

Nami calls after him, “I hope they dump you!”

Sanji cries out soon after. “I hope you fall into the sea, asshole!”

Zoro could go look for you. Should, even. But he instead makes the trek to the crow’s nest, cherishing the quiet, the solitude, the safety of it.

But as he sits in what is usually his sanctuary, he begins to feel that itch beneath his skin. Quiet turns to unbearable silence, solitude turns to loneliness, safety turns to suffocation. He tries to close his eyes, to center himself, take control as he loves to do, but the moment he does he can see nothing but your face. He can almost feel your hands on his back, rubbing soothing circles while your voice gently shushes him. You were so good at that, calming him down right when he needed you. Giving him a patience he simply didn’t deserve.

A patience he had been taking for granted.

What would he do, if another man had made you cry? If someone else had raised their voice at you as he had, time and again?

Part of him tried to justify it. But I don’t mean it, some petulant part of himself cried. They know I don’t mean it.

But do you? And would it matter, anyway? He’s still shouting. You’re still taking it. How long can you perform the same song and dance before it stops being a performance?

He needs to apologize.

He just needs to find you first. You aren’t in the kitchen, though Sanji is, and he doesn’t even speak with him this time, just giving him a mean glare that would send a lesser man running. Zoro hates to admit he deserves it. You aren’t in your bed, and your things are still missing. Not in Chopper’s office. Not in the library. Not in the bathroom, though Robin is, and he has to take a moment to furiously apologize for not knocking while she laughs at him.

He can only think of a few more places to check when he remembers who was missing this morning.

Franky’s workshop is quieter than he’s ever heard it, only filled with the quiet clanking of a small hammer against an even smaller piece of metal. Franky is using his second set of hands to put together some clockwork trinket, a significantly more delicate project that he usually takes on. Zoro is confused only for a moment, then he sees you, eyes intensely watching, and he realizes what’s going on. Franky has taken you in today, chosen something simple and small to distract you, to allow you to participate in some way. He’s always been great at small comforts like this, allowing someone the peace of his presence without worrying about being a burden.

Zoro could learn a lot from him.

Franky clearly knows he’s there, shoulders tensing slightly, but he doesn’t speak, waiting for one of you to take the first step. You don’t seem to notice either, too enraptured by the small metal bird in Franky’s hands, a look of wonder on your face that makes Zoro’s heart skip despite himself.

“Hi.” He cringes the moment he speaks, the peace shattering instantly. Franky doesn’t turn to acknowledge him, but he can practically feel the wince that must be on his face from the lame opener. Your head shoots up like a frightened rabbit, every part of you tense and ready to run. You pull in on yourself, making yourself smaller, like if you’re lucky he might miss you entirely, move on to the next prey. He puts up his hands, the first and only act of surrender he has ever performed, before continuing. “Can we talk? In private?”

You look to Franky, and Zoro doesn’t know what the look you two exchange means, but it makes you get up and approach. You give him a wide berth, not even coming within a foot of him, but you nod at him briefly to indicate he should follow. However small of a gesture it is, you’ve finally acknowledged him. That’s something.

You lead him back down to the training room, still covered in splintered wood and reeking of sweat. He can’t help but notice you didn’t pick a neutral location. You lead him somewhere he feels safe.

You turn to him. “Talk.”

He hesitates a moment, trying not to trip over himself and somehow make this work, but he can see that he’s finally reached the end of your apparently not-quite-infinite patience. “I’m…sorry.” He says the words through gritted teeth, feeling as though they burn his mouth as they leave. He doesn’t like to apologize in words, but in action. In gentle hands, in small acts he could deny later. He doesn’t know why it embarrasses him, to admit he was wrong. He is pretty often. But something about it makes him feel so small, so weak. But he can be small and weak for you, right now. No matter how much it hurts.

Your eyes widen, and you take the smallest step backwards. Shocked by him admitting for once he’s at fault. “You’re…sorry?”

“Yes. I’m sorry.”

You narrow your eyes at him, searching for some kind of trick, some hidden knife ready to plunge into your back. “For what?”

“For…for what? You know for what.” He winces at how defensive he sounds, at how you start to pull in on yourself again. “Sorry. Um. For yelling at you. For taking my anger out on you when you did nothing wrong. For how I always do that. I…I don’t know why I snap at you. And it’s wrong.”

“Yes, it is.” You close your eyes for a moment, taking a deep, shuddering breath. “It isn’t fair of you to keep doing this. I tried letting it slide, because I know you just don’t know how to handle your feelings, that you aren’t coming from a place of malice. But that doesn’t make it okay. And you never stopped.” You turn your back to him, approaching a nearby window, staring out at the sea.

“I’m going to stop now. I swear it.”

“I won’t be with someone who speaks to me like that. I deserve better. You know I deserve better.” You’re trying to play tough, but he can hear the shake in your voice, and he realizes that just like yesterday you’ve only turned around so he can’t see the tears on your lashes.

He wraps his arms around you, burying his face in your hair. “You do. I swear I’ll treat you like you deserve. If I ever talk to you like that again, I’ll fall on my own sword.”

“...Swords.”

“Huh?”

“Swords. All three.”

He chuckles despite himself. “Alright. I’ll fall on all three at the same time.”

“Good. …You deserve it.”

“I know.” A silence hangs in the air. “I love you.”

You don’t answer.

You don’t hug him back, and you’re still sniffling, but you let him hold you. That has to be enough for now.

Tag List: @pandora-writes-one-piece (if you saw I forgot the taglist when I first posted this no you didn't)

[aarchengel]

Making Her Mine

Summary: Rebekah compels Elena to reveal her feelings for you and now your trust is betrayed. Rebekah seizes this opportunity to warm up to you as she has always found you attractive. Hanging out with her escalates to a make-out session as you relish your newfound feelings for her...

Smut, angst, a lil' bit of fluff

Elena cheating on the reader, Elena slander

3K

A/N: This is the first time I've published smut. I hope it's fine (I know it's horrible) otherwise just forget this happened... do let me know if you liked it. Happy reading!

Rebekah Mikaelson X Fem!Reader

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Rebekah was dragging Stefan by the arm to the high school library and you trailed behind them, compelled to do as the Original said.

Elena, your girlfriend of two years, gasps and stands up at your arrival. "Stefan, Y/N..."

You shot her a confused look, not understanding why was she so shocked.

Rebekah shot at the brunette. "Did I say you could move?" Elena shot her an exasperated look as she slowly sat down and you moved to sit near her.

She circled you people and spoke loudly in her accented voice. "Class is in session. You know the rules. Answer my questions honestly. No disobedience, no one leaves. April, my sweet, take notes. That's how you get answers in this town."

Her gaze lingered on you, which made you feel nervous and fidgety. Sure, you didn't show it, but she was a thousand-year-old vampire who could kill you in the blink of an eye, who was currently eyeing you like a predator would do to its prey. "In the year 1114, my brother learned, thanks to yours truly, about a brother of vampire hunters with tattoos that grew with each kill. These tattoos revealed what, Elena?"

"A map" your girlfriend answered, looking down. "Which led to... Caroline?"

"A cure for vampirism."

"Perfect. So we're all caught up. Stefan Salvatore, the last time we saw each other, you had a vampire hunter. But in order to decode the map, you need the location of the hunter’s sword, which you got out of me by using some very dirty tricks. Assuming you found the sword, you also found the cure… and you’re all still vampires. Something went wrong."

She looked at April. "What are you doing?"

"Oh, you asked me to take notes."

Rebekah sighed. "Oh, I wasn't being literal, darling. But now that you mention it, a flow chart would be nice. Which means index cards and push pins. Go fetch." The teen left.

At that very moment, the blonde Original appeared oh-so-tempting to you. The way she exercised control over all of you made you feel hot all over. It has happened quite a few times before. But you were with Elena and you had no tolerance for cheaters. There was just something about Rebekah that has always piqued your interest, but then again, loyalty was the most important thing for you. No one else but Elena had a place in your heart all this time.

Stefan grew irritated and straightened up. "You're wasting your time. We don't know anything."

"So you just gave up? I thought you'd do anything to save Elena. Y/N?"

Suddenly, all eyes in the room stared at you. The tension was so thick, you though a chainsaw was needed to cut through it. You sensed something bad and grew antsy under their collective gazes. "Why are you all staring?"

No answer. "Guys...?"

Rebekah spoke again. "I'm missing something. What is it?"

No one spoke. "I asked you what happened. You have to tell me."

Finally, the younger Salvatore brother spoke. "Elena slept with Damon."

You whipped your head around to look at the mentioned brunette. Hot, white rage was all you felt thrumming in your veins. You were known for your calm demeanor and excellent control over anger, but it was getting really difficult not to claw the doppelganger's eyes out. "What is the meaning of this?!"

The doe-eyed Gilbert just looked down and spoke nothing. She knew how much your relationship meant to you. She knew that once your trust is betrayed, it's over. She knew that loyalty was the most important thing in the entire world to you. And yet she chose to disrespect you. It made you feel so pathetic. Another victim of the Petrova charm putty in the doppelganger's paws. What a bitch. Your eyes burned with hot tears, threatening to fall down. Your throat choked and tightened, making it impossible for you to say another word. No. You thought. You wouldn't shed your tears for a cheater. Tears are so precious; blood flows from the body, tears flow from the soul. Never in your entire life you had felt so insulted and betrayed. I am going to ruin them, you thought. No, I mustn't waste a moment of my life on these worthless assholes. You decided the latter was a better option. No one was as crafty and cruel as you when it came to revenge. You would be consumed by the fire of vengeance. God, you thought you sounded like you were going on a bloodbath. But that's the dark beauty of you...

You subtly took a deep breath and leaned back, your face a stone-cold mask in which even the most observant couldn't find a crack. You felt Rebekah's searing gaze in your bones. And in some way, it made you feel safe. And damn you when you didn't know why...

"So vampire Elena is a trollop who likes bad boys, but it doesn’t explain why sweet, loving, innocent Elena could be so heartless towards Y/N. How could she hurt her like that? Answer, please." The Original said, looking at Stefan.

He sighed as he spoke. "She didn't know it at the time, but she was sired to Damon."

Rebekah smirked. "A sire bond? That’s fascinating. And what do you think about that, Elena?"

Elena spat at her, "I think you’re sad. And bored. And in desperate need of a hobby."

It angered but didn't deter the blonde. She compelled the Gilbert. "You're hiding something. Fess up."

"I didn’t sleep with Damon because I’m sired. I slept with him because I’m in love with him," she spoke in such a way as if she were proud of what she'd done. That was the last straw.

"Fuck you." You spat with so much hatred and venom, that no more words were needed to convey the message: we're over. Then you spun on your heel and stormed out, carrying a kaleidoscope of emotions and the weight of Rebekah's lingering gaze.

You didn't know it at the moment, but you and Elena breaking up might just be the best thing that has happened to the Mikaelson...

It was nearly midnight, and you were at your house alone. You ate an entire tub of vanilla ice-cream, and now you were feeling guilty about it. You could have downed that bottle of Jack and Daniel hidden in your closet, but you decided you were not going to surrender to Damon's coping mechanisms.

Your room looked like a lowkey brothel, complete with silk sheets, roses, scented candles, and dim lighting. Hell, you were dressed in flimsy lace pyjamas, finding them extremely comfortable. But in your taste, it was a much-deserved self-care session.

Flipping through the pages of an erotic novel for the past hour, you got bored. It was so smutty, all the protagonists seemed to do was have sex. You grew irritated, your sex life was in shambles.

Suddenly, the bell rang. At this odd hour, you thought it would be Caroline stopping by with some ridiculously expensive cosmetics for a girl's night in, a not-so-subtle attempt of hers to comfort you. You might've hated Caroline at the moment for keeping Elena's secret, but you guessed you could live with it.

Every pore of your being protested when you rose, wrapped your robe around yourself and climbed down the stairs to open the door. The last person you were expecting to show up on your door was Rebekah Mikaelson.

Your heart skipped a beat. She looked so hot. Like get on your knees right now hot in those tight jeans and spaghetti top. For the first time ever, you could admire her classic, almost divine, beauty without any inhibitions or restrictions. For the first time, you really seemed to take her in. And gods, she was a sight for sore eyes. And damn you for wanting to bite that red lip and tear off her clothes.

You snapped out of it when she smirked. The look in her eyes made you weak in the knees. You knew that she knew of the effect she had over you.

You cleared your throat. "Rebekah, was an entirely unexpected surprise. How can I help you?"

She smiled. "Well, for starters, you could invite me inside..."

You knew it was dangerous. But you were so desperately praying for something to happen. You didn't care about the consequences. You wanted her so bad, you felt it in your bones, the desire running deep in your veins.

"Alright, would you like to come in?"

She looked surprised for a moment that you gave in so easily. But then she smiled wide and said, "I would love to." Then she stepped inside. Your heart hammered crazily in anticipation.

"Where shall I keep these?" She asked, holding up her arms. Then you noticed that she had a couple of bags looped in her arms. "I brought wine and something to munch."

You softened. "Oh, you didn't need to..."

"Oh, of course I do." She smiled softly.

You helped her with the bags to the kitchen. "Rebekah, this is a lot..." you began but she waved you off. You couldn't believe that an Original vampire was in your house in the middle of the night, who brought very costly wine and snacks to last an entire month. The blonde standing in front of you was the supposed nemesis of your friends, but what happened today was your defense.

"But why?"

"Well, that doppelganger bitch hurt you, and I was the one who meddled and you found out like this. So I guess I owed you one."

"No, no! I owe you one. I probably wouldn't have known for a longer period of time and that would've been so pathetic."

"Still... well, I hate her and you do too. So I thought that it's not such a bad idea to bond over our mutual loathing for her and maybe plot our revenge?" She said with that cute little smirk, making me laugh.

"Do you want to watch a movie?"

"Nothing cheesy."

"You think so? Elena ought to be the cheesiest girlfriend ever."

She rolled her eyes. "Thought so,".

"Come on,"

You guided her upstairs to your bedroom, and you were really, really nervous. Your heart was beating so loudly that you knew all too well that she could hear it.

Rebekah was in a frenzy of lust and excitement. She'd dreamt of this a little too many times and now it was real. You were the loveliest creature she'd ever encountered and she thought that you were really strong, funny and protective. And she really seemed to enjoy the not-so-decent outfit you were clad in.

The blonde glanced around your room and smirked in an almost-appreciative way. You felt a bit embarrassed about your clothes and your room, but hey, we all have those moments.

You put on a thriller on your laptop as you both sat comfortably on your post bed, with a huge bowl of chips to snack on.

About an hour must have passed in comfortable silence, and your dirty thoughts were put to rest for a while too as you focused on the complex plot of the movie. Then your patience was about to be tested.

An intimate scene was displayed on the screen and you froze. You became antsy as your thighs came in contact with Rebekah's hand. The tension in the room could be cut through with a knife. Your unbridled lust and roaring desire for her was consuming you and you couldn't control yourself as you turned to face her.

She was thinking the same thing as you and your lips collided. Your tongues fought for dominance as you explored every corner of her mouth, her doing the same.

It was a passionate, rough, and all-consuming kiss that had you moaning in her mouth and both of you had your eyes closed in bliss. She cupped your face while your hands tangled themselves in her golden locks.

It was so exhilarating, and you had just kissed... you were almost scared to know where the night would lead you.

Your lungs burned for oxygen but kissing her seemed the best way to die. Finally, you parted, gasping for air.

"That was..." you began, panting.

"Amazing," she finished, holding your eyes. You leaned in for another kiss, but she beat you to it. You kissed her senseless and your hands seemed to have a mind of their own as you began undressing her. Kissing her was your new favourite thing to do.

Her lips moulded perfectly into yours. The purpose of your life was to be hers, and at that very moment, everything was forgotten. She followed your actions and undid the flimsy lace and pushed you down, making you lie down.

The two of you were completely bare as your eyes met. You could drown and die in the blue ocean of her eyes. It was like being reborn. Her eyes held a challenge, promised an adventure and you reveled in the anticipation, the thrill and in her amorousness.

She raked her eyes all over your body and your every pore, every limb shook in bliss and ecstasy. "Damn, you're gorgeous..."

You smiled in satisfaction at her words and pulled her down to mesh your lips together.

Her lips slowly moved down to your neck, kissing and biting, leaving a trail of love bites all over. Lewd, wet sounds filled your ears as you flushed. She was a heady mixture. Slowly, very slowly, she moved down to the little dent at the base of your neck, then placed ticklish, feather-light kisses on your prominent collarbone. She kissed and licked through the valley of your breasts, down to your navel and your sensitive lower stomach.

She placed kisses along your waistline, making you gasp and moan into the silk-covered pillows. Your toes curled in pleasure when you felt her hot breath fanning over your womanhood. She had barely begun and you were already dripping wet.

The blonde moved down to kiss your inner thighs. So close but not giving you what you want.

"Rebekah, please..." you pleaded with her. Her eyes were a mixture of lust and amusement. "Please what?"

"Touch me!"

"Where?" She was such a tease. You grew frustrated and you grabbed her hand and guided it between your parted thighs. A loud, throaty gasp escaped your mouth as her fingers worked their magic upon your wet, slippery folds. You almost tore the sheets your fingers were gripping and you buried your face into the pillows to muffle your moans. But you decided against it. You wanted her to hear you. You wanted her to know just how good she was making you feel. Your body was so responsive to her touches .

Just then, her fingers hit that spot and you cried out in pure pleasure. You felt the pleasure building up and the sounds leaving your mouth resonated in every nook and corner of your house.

"Do you want me to stop?" she questioned innocently, but you knew all too well. "Shut up," you barely managed to say between your uncontrollable moans.

You wanted to tell her that you were going to reach your release, but the pleasure was too much and all you could think about was how good she was.

You started shaking and almost screaming as you reached your precipice. You quite literally saw stars as you came. Rebekah's gaze upon you was that of pure worship as she licked her fingers which were coated with your arousal. Then she leaned in to kiss you deeply and you could taste yourself on her lips. "You're so pretty..." she whispered, almost as if in a daze. You smiled and grabbed her my the arms, helping her lie down.

"My turn now," you spoke, aspiring to make her feel as good as she made you feel. You pulled her in for another searing kiss as you parted her thighs. Moving down, you maintained eye contact as you stuck out your tongue and tasted her. You'd never heard anything sexier than the gasp that left her lips when you did.

Soon, your tongue circled and lapped over her folds. Her throaty moans were music to your ears. You pulled back just when she was about to reach her high, deciding to use your fingers. Her sweet moans might as well would've been heard by the neighbours as you pleasured her all night long and to the breaking of dawn.

You both lay bare barring the sheet covering you as you watched the sun rise. To you, it felt surreal and as if it were a dream.

"I've wanted this for so long," Rebekah softly confessed. "When I met you first, I thought you were really pretty, like a royal. Your wit and wordplay is unmatched. I love how strong you are, how you don't need anyone to fight for yourself and how you're so ambitious. But you were with Elena and-" you silenced her with a kiss.

"You've no idea for how long I've wanted this too. But I'm afraid that with the arrival of the dawn, I'd wake up and all of this would be nothing but a dream." You spoke softly.

"Trust me, your screams last night were very real,"

You laughed as you kissed her. She pulled you into her arms for another round. And sure enough, the hickeys covering you were very real...

[qtboni]

Hey there! ☺️ I've been loving your writing lately and wanted to make a request for a new piece. What about writing about Soldier!Reader and König falling asleep on each other on their way back to base after a mission? I think it would be a sweet moment of intimacy after all the dangers and stress they've been through together. No pressure though, just thought I'd throw it out there! :)

HI, LOVIE! thanks for this request,, this was undeniably the cutest thing I have ever written!! i used gtranslate for the german phrases cz idk any german huhu. anyw, i hope u wd love this, anon <//3

PAIRING: König X Gn!Reader

OVERVIEW: König letting you rest on his shoulder, and him also resting on top of your head <//3

C/W: Everything is fluff.

As you sat in the back of the military vehicle, you felt your shoulders droop as you fought to stay awake. Your mind was fogged from fatigue, and every minute felt like an eternity.

But as your eyes began to flutter closed, you made one last effort, shifting slightly in your seat to avoid dozing off.

You and your team had just completed a long and arduous mission, and you all were tired and eager to get back to base. You looked over at König who was seated next to you in the military vehicle. He looked just as exhausted as you felt, his face lined with the strain of the past few hours.

König, watching over you as he always did on missions, noticed the tell-tale signs of you about to fall asleep. Instead of calling you out, however, he silently watched with concern.

He knew how grueling the mission had been, and he did not want to see you hurt yourself by staying up any longer.

As you continued to struggle to keep your eyes open, your focus began to slip, your head slowly drooping. You didn't even realize it, but eventually your head came to rest on König's shoulder, your breathing growing more and more steady with each passing moment.

König noticed the change in your demeanor immediately, and he watched your face as it relaxed into a peaceful slumber. He knew your exhaustion well, and he saw it as a sign that you had finally reached your limit.

His rough, low voice was warm and comforting as he whispered words to you so softly that you almost didn't catch it, but you felt their meaning deep in your heart.

"Ich bin so stolz auf dich," he murmured, his voice low and steady, "Du bist so mutig und stark."

His whispers continued as you slept, caressing your right arm gently as he does so. "Ich liebe dich..." he murmured softly, sounding almost hesitant. "Du bist meine Welt, meine Liebe."

König knows that you would not be able to understand them, so he lets himself freely express his love and care for you in his mother tongue.

König then adjusted his seat to accommodate you and let you rest against him. Nevertheless, you still slept soundly in his right shoulder, the warmth of his body providing a sense of comfort and security that you desperately needed.

A few hours later, you awoke to the sound of König's snores. He had leaned his head on top of yours, and the sound of his breathing was rhythmic and soothing. Despite the uncomfortable position, you felt a sense of calm wash over you, and you drifted off once more.

As the hours passed, the warmth of his body seept into yours, and your consciousness began to fade. You were lost in a dreamless, restful sleep, feeling safe and protected by his presence.

Finally, the sun began to set, and the military vehicle came to a stop outside the base. You stirred from your slumber, feeling refreshed and ready to face whatever might come next. You opened your eyes to find König still sound asleep, his head resting on top of yours.

You sighed softly, trying not to disturb him. You carefully shifted your position and leaned over to whisper in his ear, "König... Wake up."

He stirred slightly, cracking open one eye to look at you. "Gott sei Dank..." His voice was low and hoarse from exhaustion, but there was a smile in his eyes. "I'll never complain about a nap again."

You giggled quietly, feeling a sudden surge of affection for him. "You'll never complain about anything again," you murmured, reaching up to prepare your stuff and fix your vest.

"Ja," König replied, his eyes gentle as ever as he looked at you. "Thanks for your shoulder, schatz. Sorry for if ever, um, it was uncomfortable."

"Oh?" You smiled softly at him.

"You know, given by your smaller than me, maus."

"Well," you chucked as you leaned over at him once more. "It was actually one of the best and comfortable sleep I have ever encountered in this.. kind of scenario."

König felt a warm sensation sweep over his cheeks as he blushed, clearing his throat nervously. "Is that so? Well, I'm glad."

"Actually, I should have been the one thank you. So, thanks. I really needed that nap." You patted his shoulder, where you previously had slept on.

König felt a nervous jolt run through his body as he realized his blush must have been noticed, even with the mask on, when your smile seems to expand more cheekily.

He doesn't trust his words, fear striking in him if he's going to let out stuttering phrases. So, he instead nodded at you, averting his gaze once again.

You knew that there were plenty of things he couldn't express with his mask on, but you could still tell that he appreciated your gesture. And you were glad to have been there for him, just as he had been there for you.

[thefreakandthehair]

(don't bother) calling me when you're sober | rating: m | wc: 1.5k

content warnings: future fic, parental alcoholism ("falling off the wagon"), past parental neglect, minor character death (i've committed wayne crimes i'm so sorry but it's not shown, just mentioned), emotional hurt/comfort, ends on a happy, hopeful note despite the tags

“My dad called.” 

Eddie walks into the room, pinched eyebrows and flared nostrils lit up by the multicolored Christmas lights they string on the tree every year, one hand balled into a fist. The reaction  wouldn’t surprise Steve so much if this happened years ago, when Al Munson was still living in the bottom of a bottle of Jack, but now? 

It’s been eighteen years since he’d gotten sober, nineteen years since his last stint at Hawkins County, and fifteen years since making a genuine attempt to right the wrongs of Eddie’s childhood and build a relationship with his son. 

Fifteen years after Eddie let him in, let him try, let him earn Eddie’s trust. 

Fifteen years is a long time and to see Eddie so vitriolic in the doorway of their apartment’s living room— hands shaking, body shaking— Steve knows something must’ve gone wrong. 

“What happened?” Steve asks, standing from the couch and meeting Eddie where he stands, holding the hand not curled tightly around itself. 

“He’s drunk. He called, and he was drunk.” 

Steve’s chest pulls tight, his heart racing. What does someone say to that? What can someone say to assuage that kind of deep anger, pain, and betrayal? His thoughts are scattered as they try to make sense of what Eddie just said, and he’s even more grateful now that Ronnie wanted a sleepover with Aunt Robin tonight. 

“Eddie, fuck. I’m so— ” Before he can finish his thought, Eddie leans back against the doorframe, ripping his hand out of Steve’s and tangling his fingers in his hair, tugging. 

“How could he? How fucking could he?!” Eddie bellows, eyes squeezed shut. “He knew! He knew that if he ever did this again, I’d be done. For good. For forever. And he did it anyways! After eighteen fucking years!” 

His eyes fly open and Steve stands still and nods him on. There are just no words to fix this, and trying for the sake of filling the silence has never served him well.

“He did it anyway! Two days before fucking Christmas, a week before the anniversary of—” He chokes and cuts himself off. 

He knows what Eddie was going to say. A week before the anniversary of Wayne’s death. It’s been on his mind, too, of course. On his mind and in their conversations over breakfast with eccentric mugs of coffee, over the tangled lights that Wayne could always figure out. The year hasn’t been the kindest to them, particularly Eddie, and Steve wants to protect Eddie as much as he can from whatever he can. 

But he can’t shield him from this. Al Munson skips to the top of his shitlist.

“That son of a bitch!” Eddie rams his fist sideways against the door jam, leaving a sharp, red mark along his pinky. “He promised, and I believed him. Why the fuck did I believe him, Steve?”

Steve takes a step closer and grabs both of Eddie’s hands, carefully soothing the angry mark. “It’s been almost twenty years, babe. Trusting him with so much time invested makes sense. Hell, I did, too.” 

“I’m— I’m in my 30s, hurt and angry about the same shit I was hurt and angry about as a fucking kid. All the nights I slept in the backseat of the car because he blew his money at the bar, all the car accidents and court appearances and jail time, all the mornings I missed school because he didn’t know what fucking day it was,” Eddie rants, stopping to take a breath before picking back up, Steve’s own heart cracking and raging the more he speaks. 

“And every time he’d get sober, he’d always promise. He’d promise it would be the last time, and it never was. Not once could he choose his fucking son and I didn’t understand it then, but now that we have Ronnie, I understand it even less. If I was sick enough to walk away from her, I’d walk my happy ass to the nearest fucking rehab. I get that it’s a disease, I get it, I get it, I get it. But I can’t— I can’t do it again. Not this time. Eighteen years just down the fucking drain because of his company’s holiday party? How can I ever believe him again? Or trust him again?” 

Eddie’s voice grows raspier, breath shallow and quick, eyes watery. “Every time this happened when I was a kid, I always had Wayne. He’s the only person who really got it, y’know? The only one who lived it with me and now, I don’t even have him. My dad’s drunk, slurring his way through who fucking knows what on the phone, and no one else can fully understand the magnitude of what that feels like for me.” 

He squeezes his eyes shut again and drops forward toward Steve, forehead on his shoulder and arms loosely hung around Steve’s waist. Steve still doesn’t have words that bandage this up, but he knows how to show his husband love in other ways. Ways that, over the years, have become a language all their own. Steve pulls him in tight, one hand near his waist, the other cradling the back of his head. Fingers slide carefully beneath the hem of Eddie’s tee-shirt and rub little, repetitive circles into the small of Eddie’s back while he cards his other hand through Eddie’s hair, scratching his scalp and holding him to his chest to feel the rhythm of Steve’s own heartbeat until his breath returns to a steady pace. 

It’s only then that Steve speaks. 

“I don’t know what to say, Ed. It’s fucked up, and if you want to me like, hit him with my car, you know I’m game.” Steve feels Eddie laugh— just a few puffs of air through his nose but it’s a laugh all the same. “But I’m here, and we’re gonna figure it out, okay? Whatever you decide to do, we’ll do it together.”

Eddie nods and lets himself be led to the couch, Steve tucking Eddie into his side and pulling the afghan up over them. 

“I never want to be what Al was to me to our daughter,” Eddie whispers, not looking away from the tree. 

“Well, you’re ahead of the game, because she’s already older than you were when he started hitting the bottle hard. And I know there’s the genetic piece to it that everyone talks about, but nurture counts for a lot of who we become, too. Shit, I owe Joyce Byers a huge thank you for being more of a parent to me than my own were because she’s probably the reason I didn’t turn out like Dick Harrington. Ronnie’s never going to have an Al Munson in her life, because you weren’t raised by Al Munson. That’s not whose legacy you’re passing down. You’re passing down love, not pain.” Steve presses a soft kiss to Eddie’s temple and feels his whole body sag into him. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Eddie’s voice is quiet now, a far cry from his earlier venomous edge. 

Silence nestles onto the couch with them, a comfortable addition, as they watch the basketball game Steve had on before Eddie told him about the phone call. Watch is a loose description, actually. They're more just looking at a moving, flashing screen. 

“My hand really hurts, by the way,” Eddie announces, holding up the hand he’d used to punch the doorjam. “That was fucking dumb.”

“Maybe a little bit, but I get it,” Steve untucks a hand from beneath the blanket and outstretches his palm. “Lemme see?”

Eddie plops his hand into Steve’s and Steve takes a look, mentally working down the check list he’s memorized from his decade plus of EMT work. No obvious breaks, nothing looks crooked, Eddie’s able to move each finger and flex his hand without severe pain. 

“If anything, it’s just gonna be bruised tomorrow. But I’ll fix it,” Steve grins and lifts Eddie’s fist to his lips, carefully kissing each knuckle and paying a little extra attention to the pinky that delivered most of the blow. 

“I’m so in love with you, Steve.” Eddie rests his temple on Steve’s shoulder. “You know that, right?” 

“I know,” Steve agrees, chest fluttering despite the circumstances. “And I’m in love with you, too. You know that, right?”

Eddie snuggles in and wraps Steve up, full koala, as though he’s trying to get as close as possible without actually cracking Steve open and climbing inside of him. 

“Definitely.”

The next morning, Aunt Robin brings Ronnie home and together, they decorate the gingerbread cookies that only vaguely look like people but are good enough to pass for a seven year old. Halfway through, Eddie’s cell phone rings and the caller I.D. reads Al. Steve watches, worried that Eddie’s going to answer in the middle of their decorating. That he’ll forget Ronnie’s having the time of her life, and that in his righteous indignation, Eddie will leave the table to go fight and argue.

There’s so much to be said, and Steve wouldn’t blame him, but he breathes a sigh of relief when Eddie simply declines the call and sets about pouring more edible glitter onto his design with a smile down at their daughter. 

[worriedvision]

Forgery - Chapter 2

Gender neutral reader, will tag part 1 at some point. Part 1 is the first chapter, and is needed as it's part of this fic. This is more build up than, I can see this having more than 5 chapters with how I'm thinking up a plot... And that's before stemming off into other routes!

--

"Good morning." You hear Sethos smile, handing you some water before stretching his limbs. "Ready to keep going?"

"Do you need sleep? I know I've slept a good few hours, I'd feel bad for letting you run on nothing." You chime in, Sethos rubbing the back of his head.

"As much as I'd like to take you up on that offer, I'm afraid because you are considered a suspect - I can't leave you unattended." Sethos states, beginning to prepare for the continued walk.

"Fine...If we land up walking past a village, though, could you ask for a couple of hours of sleep? I'll make sure someone keeps an eye on me."

"Funny you say that - Aaru village is just a few miles away! I'll stop by there, and Candace can keep watching of you." Sethos smiles.

Nodding, you help Sethos pack his bag before continuing on. Turns out he was right, Aaru village was there, and he was allowed to sleep. The only difference was, instead of Candace watching over you, it was the General Mahamatra himself. Initially, it was Candace looking after you while Cyno spoke to Sethos - you could only hope he wasn't tearing Sethos a new one for stopping. You plan to address this when you do finally speak to Cyno.

"So you're the person allegedly threatening the Medical Melusine?" Cyno speaks, causing you to jump.

"I was accused of that, yes." You start, already sensing Cynos immediate distaste. "I promise it wasn't me who sent the threat though! I wouldn't dream of hurting Sigewinne - she's my friend!"

"I must advise you to be careful with your words." Cyno responds, sitting across from you. "I plan on interviewing you here, before taking you to your final location."

Seeing your face drop, seemingly terrified you were going to be executed based on what you heard of Sumerus punishments, Cyno pipes up once again. "Don't worry - you will be working alongside a colleague of mine. I have not yet decided your fate due to lack of evidence."

Letting out a sigh of relief, you let him continue.

"Now, forgeries are very common - from my conversation with Sethos, it isn't a scenario I would rule out as unlikely. That being said, I must say I don't know you well enough to decide." Cyno begins, pulling out a pen and paper before pushing it towards yourself. "I would like you to write how you begin a letter, as well as how you sign off a letter. Be precise - if you have multiple variations depending on the relation, please include these."

Not thinking twice, you pick up the pen and paper, writing the requested evidence out. Cyno watches you, taking mental notes for himself as you carry out the task without having to think too hard.

"Here. What else do you need?" You ask, the paper being handed back over as well as the pen.

"Do you have any people you do wish harm upon? Any enemies at all?" Cyno asks, you shaking your head no. "How about jealousy - anyone you think of that may be jealous, please let me know."

"I can't think of anyone." You answer honestly.

"Last question - do you have any connections to outside organisations? The Fatui, the Abyss order, the Guhua Clan, anyone?" Cyno asks, you denying this. "Thank you for your answers. Please complete this form - this will be basic information for healthcare in Sumeru, and since you are still considered a suspect due to lack of incriminating evidence efficiently linking you to the crime you are entitled to free healthcare."

-

The walk to Gandharva ville is relatively uneventful - excluding your admiration of all the wildlife and plants you hadn't seen before. Upon arrival at Master Tighnaris house, Cyno knocks before walking in, you following along.

"Oh, thank you for gracing me with your presence, General." Tighnari huffs, finishing up with a vial of medicine. "Consider yourself lucky I didn't drop this vial. And is the person behind you the "alleged" Melusine hater?" Tighnari tuts, looking at you.

"I don't hate my friend, it was a forgery!" You tell, Tighnari wincing at the loudness. "Sorry, I've just had a hard time with all of this."

"...Cyno, please take our esteemed guest to their home - they will be staying with a guard - before we continue our discussion of the situation?" Tighnari asks. Cyno nods, gesturing for you to head out with him.

Upon entering the home, Cyno excuses himself as your roommate shows you around - where to get cleaned up, your bed, the essential bits and bobs.

--

Tighnari looks over the evidence Cyno had collected of your situation - some from you, and some from Wriothesley or Neuvillette. Upon first glance, the threatening letters look real.

But a second glance gives more context. None of the threats had your usual signatures or opening lines, and there were inconsistencies with the writing. A rare letter looked out of place, almost like two letters had been smashed together to make up for a mistake on the writers behalf.

Your medical information also gave hints - the person who wrote the letters didn't seem to account for your age, clearly quoting an 'age' you were that was off by approximately 5 years from when the letter was written and/or sent.

"I think this is a forgery, but I want to consult another opinion from someone else before pushing forward." Cyno explains. "I am asking yo.u not as a colleague, but rather as a friend - if you had been looking at this letter, would you think this person was _?"

"I think it's clear this is a forgery - I'm surprised that nobody in Fontaine clocked this, given they will likely have more evidence than ourselves." Tighnari tilts his head. "Ask for a second opinion, but I think they jumped to conclusions given the violent threats in this letter. I also noted _ referred to Sigewinne, but didn't voice any distain towards her..." Tighnari places a hand on his chin, thinking intently.

Cyno takes the letters, nodding as he agrees with Tighnari.

"Turns out-" Cyno starts, noting Tighnari cringing inwardly. "- the medical records have proven to be important to this investigation."

Tighnari let's out a sigh of relief, relieved Cyno didn't crack an awful joke.

"I would like to tell a joke, however given the seriousness of the threat I will hold back." Cyno blankly explains, walking out.

[just-some-random-blogger]

Edge Of Ever After | 1

Part 2

Sandor runs his fingers down my spine and sighs, "everything I ever touch goes to shit." He grabs my hip and pulls me close. I turn to him and nestle my face into his chest. He traps me in his arms, "but you… you turn my shit into gold."

Sandor Clegane x Reader | 5k+ | cw: fem!reader, wife!reader POV shifts!, smut (piv, emotional sex, praise kink, breeding kink), enemies to lovers, remnants of forced marriage, slow burn, angst, emotional unavailability, emotional vulnerability, The Hound being abrasive, miscommunication, fluff, typos, etc.

A/N: so this is a the sequel to my Safe Keeping series. both that and this is originally posted on ao3. you dont have to read the previous series to understand what's going on, but naturally, it will make more sense if you do. I've decided not to tag everyone that asked me to tag them in safe keeping because this is another series after all. ❤❤❤ hope you like it!

Brown Wood rarely ever has its lights out, as it housed so many people. Rare were the times the place succumbed to darkness. Still, there were moments when all the servants, maids, men, and women were asleep and not candle was lit.

Lord Clegane purposefully returned to Brown Wood amidst this darkness. As he opened and closed the gate with as much care as he could, determined not to make a sound, he finds himself thinking of the first time he came here with his wife, her servant, and their dog. The darkness Brown Wood was succumbed to was not the same it was now. Where once there was fearful abandonment now had peaceful slumber.

If you told him this was the childhood home of his lady's family, he'd believe you; it was a large estate, abandoned as it was. And if you add it had been abandoned once because of a plague of woodland monsters that ended killing her family, well, he'd still believe you, because damned if he doesn't.

That's where he had come from, the cursed forest.

But the Brown Wood estate was no longer cursed, and it was all because of her, the sun of this side of Westeros, his beloved wife. It was because of her that this haunted place was now bustling with life, because of his bride... that he was so eagerly avoiding.

Sandor prayed to the gods that his wife's loyal mutts would not wake to the smell of him. He prayed as he reached for the door handle that they had not slept near the fireplace in the living area, but if they did, that they were too tired to wake.

He sucks a breath and enters his home.

Darkness. Silence. Nothing.

He releases the breath as he shut the door.

Pants. Patters. Chuffs.

"Fuck."

Sandor looks down and catches flashes of dark furred creatures circling around him. One, he recognized to be Rose because of her size, got on her back legs and rested her front paws on him. The other two began to get excited as he swatted their sister away. They thought it a challenge to start playing.

He recognizes Sage as he softly barks and immediately drops on his knees to shush the dog.

Sage and his sisters come upon him and begin to lick his body. He would have tolerated it, had he not been covered in black, tar-like muck left over on his skin and armor.

"Fuck off, pups," he whispers as he pushes them away and stands. Lilac, ever the big mouth, began to bark in protest. Her barks echoed across the whole place.

"SHHH!" he silences in a panic, "you're going to wake your mum!"

His ghost nearly leaves him when he hears, "she was never asleep to begin with."

Sandor turns and finally spots the woman that had been sitting in darkness all this time. "Bloody seven, girl," he gasps in shock, "what are you doing in the dark?"

He walks over, lighting a candle on the table, then looks at her. Her eyes were dark and tired. Her arms were crossed and jaw was clenched.

He watches her stand and look him once over.

He immediately says, "I'm not injured."

She rolls her eyes and looks away, "I can tell, Hound."

His face twitches as she walks past him. He follows after but winces when she hisses that he better not keep the candle open.

And so the Hound blows the flame out and the rest of the dogs follow their master across the place.

He wants to tell her he did good today. He really did! He saved the villagers from an attack, helped them with their cow problem too! And he counted and killed 20 monsters in the fucking woods. Twenty!

But that was the fucking problem, and he knew it. Hell, even the pups knew it.

He was spending so much time trying to eviscerate the tar fucks he was barely home anymore. But what was he to do? Not kill the them and have his wife go on an expedition to fucking Volantis looking for a witch Littlefinger told her to look for? Fuck no. He would rather feel her sheer disappointment for coming home late than to have her go to a foreign land looking for answers she doesn't even know for certain she's going to get.

Sandor soon realizes she's leading him off to the bathroom. She opens the door and lights candles for him.

"The water is surely cold now, but you'll have to make due," she says as she brings a flame to four waxen cylinders. After setting them down, she shoos the pups that followed them in and closes the door once they were out. She then walks over and helps him out of his sticky armor.

Sandor thinks she's like a fairy in this light, though she was clearly displeased with him and exhausted from waiting up.

"Forgive me for staying out late," he mutters, wanting nothing but to hold her arms as she removed his top. He wouldn't dare touch her in this state though, caked in muck.

She scoffs, "I'll forgive you when you stop doing it."

Once Sandor was out of his metal top, she looks up at him and sighs, "bathe quickly."

"Aye," he nods surely, "I will."

"I cannot sleep alone."

"Aye," he says weaker, "I know."

"Yet still you make me wait for you," she retorts tiredly.

"… I thought you'd be able to sleep with the pups."

"The pups aren't you, Sandor."

"I-"

She walks off to wash her hands. Sandor scrams to help her.

Once her hands are clean, she curtsies and exits the bathroom.

"I'll be quick," he says, because he can't say 'I didn't think it through.'

She simply hums in acknowledgment.

My eyes were heavy, head was hurting. My whole body was crying out for respite, yet I could not sleep. I hear the door. I slowly open my eyes.

I feel Sandor draw near, but he doesn't lie beside me. I barely make out his form but I hear him kneel by the bed. He takes my hand slowly into his.

"Come to bed," I mumble under my breath but even I can't hear it with how low it was.

I open my eyes enough to make out his face, at least as much as the darkness would allow me.

He speaks with the softest of voices "I don't want you to go to sleep upset with me."

I don't have it in me to continue a conversation. Instead I pull away from him and scoot back.

Sandor is perfectly still on his spot.

Once there was a good space between us, I beckon him over by patting and rubbing the bed.

Sandor climbs to my side and I immediately sprawl on top of him. The smell of his body was a comfort, the feel of his form and warmth nearly made me faint.

I could feel his tension. I rub his ribs and shush him, "go to sleep."

Sandor lifts his head to look at me. After, he lets himself relax and stare at the ceiling until sleep takes him.

When I wake up, I'm laid atop my husband. My head was rested by his left collar bone and my leg was thrown across his hips.

It takes me a few moments to realize he was rubbing my thigh. Upon looking at his hand, then his face, I confirm, he was already awake.

Sandor looks at me and frowns.

I frown back and raise my brows.

He brushes my hair away from my face, "you're mighty tired, girl."

I relax and realize what the frown was for. Normally, twas I that woke up earlier. He was concerned because that was not the case today. "I cannot sleep well without you."

"Aye," he sighs. He brings his hand to the curve of my bum, "apologies."

My breathing grows heavy as he pushes my dress up.

"I feel terrible," he mutters, "let me make it up to you." Sandor kneads at my hip and sequentially pulls me atop him.

I do not say a word, I simply let him rub his hands on my thighs. I rest my palms on his chest and watch him examine my body.

His hands find their way up my nightgown and into my smallclothes. He locks eyes with me as he tugs them down, testing to see if I'd give him permission.

I lick my lips and tilt my head. I grab his wrists. We stare at each other for a moment.

"I do not like this routine," I mutter.

Sandor's face betrays him. He looks panicked.

I huff and shake my head, "you taking me because you're guilty."

He clenches his jaw.

"I do suppose is better than… nothing… but…"

My heart leaps into my throat when Sandor calls my name. It was a rare occasion when he did, as he opted pet names; it did things to me. When I tense, he takes the opportunity to pull away and grasp my wrists.

"Tell me how to make it up to you," he whispers.

Sandor and I watch each other's stillness.

After a moment of waiting, I pull my hands away and lean into him again. I prop my hands on his chest and he allows me to do as I please. After some shimmying and hovering, I rid myself of my underwear.

He watches as I toss it off the bed and straddle snuggly on his hips. I grab his wrists and bring his hands underneath my clothes, a silent encouragement to touch me.

The Hound squeezes and claws. I suppress a sound when he bucks into me. I feel my belly swirl in excitement but I do not allow my mind to be fogged before I get to say what's long overdue.

"Stop hunting at night."

Sandor releases a deep breath as he shifts upward on the bed. He licks his lips, "you know I won't do that."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm so close to purging those fucking monsters," he mutters as his hands roam up my body.

"H-" I whimper when he kneads my breasts. I huff, "h-how do you know that?"

"Because they're few and far between," he shifts upward again and sequentially pulls my dress off me. Before I can cover myself, his mouth covers me, or more accurately my right breast.

I lean into him and grip his shoulder.

He sucks on my flesh then licks my nipple. He grips my ribs and further sinks into my bosom. He brings his face into my cleavage and begins to suck. He was intent, I knew, on leaving marks.

I feel him begin to rock his hips and I audibly react to the feel of his pants against my bare flesh.

I bite my lower lip and grab at his shirt, attempting to pull it off him.

He groans and pulls me closer into him, unwilling to separate his mouth from my skin. He pushes my hair back and trails kisses up to my neck. He nips my skin before finally pulling away.

Now fully sat up, he looks at me darkly. He rubs the places he'd kissed, as if examining his work, then finally, takes his top off himself.

He stills when I fondle with his waistband. He rather unwillingly allows me to move and rid of his pants. Once it was past his bum, he pulls me back down like he was scared I'd run off.

I whimper when he does so. Sandor rids himself of his final piece of clothing.

"Dance on my cock, darling."

My breath hitches. My cheeks flush.

His hands sprawl across my thighs, covering them nearly wholly and urges me to move back and forth.

I gulp as I feel my body heat up as I maneuver my hips.

The groan that leaves his mouth is high praise to me.

I garble out a sound when his thumb rubs at my nub. He hisses when he feels the wetness there, "fuck, sweetheart. You drive a man mad."

He plays with me some more then pulls his hand away to spread the wetness across his fingers, "gods be fucking good, all this for me?"

My face burns with embarrassment. I bring my hand across my chest, "Sandor."

He perks with concern and immediately cages me in his arms. He peppers kisses down my neck, "no, my lady. I'm in awe of you."

I mewl when he digs his fingers into my hair and tugs at the roots.

"Such sweetness...." he whispers against my ear, "this for an ugly dog?"

"S-stop it," I quip and give him a shove.

He pulls back and looks down at me.

I hold his gaze and scowl, "don't speak like that."

"What? R'you saying you think me pretty?"

"I do," I retort.

He laughs and rubs my arms to warm me, as if I could be cold against him. He grabs my hips then ruts into me. I make a sound as I watch him take his hardened length and slowly sink into me. I gasp as I feel him press balls deep into me.

He shudders against my ear, "liar."

The Hound begins to thrust upward and the sounds I make are muffled by his mouth. He kisses me like he's starved, and perhaps he was.

He tightens his arms around me. He buries his face into my neck. He breathes in deeply. He sighs, "color me flattered though."

I squeak when he shoves me on my back and pushes my calves into my thighs. He grunts, "fuck ya good for it."

I screw my eyes shut and throw my head back as Sandor snaps into me. With every flick of his hips, the bed creaks and I move farther and farther down the bed. He has so push me down in place to keep me from slipping any farther. He pins me by my shoulder and brings my legs up in front of him.

My legs rest his shoulder. He kisses my ankle, "my darling wife."

The Hound persists in a rough and quick pace, hardly stopping, slowing only to tease me. He gnaws at whatever part of me his mouth can reach and grunts as he explores my body. He molds me against him, hands pawing at my flesh, touching, feeling, steadying.

I'm a toy, a chew toy of a hound, something he craves to stretch, gnaw, and tear but so is very selfish and protective of.

He rubs my belly and it pushes me on edge.

When I come, I'm exhausted; I always am.

When he comes, he's spent and hot and dripping; by extension, as am I.

Sandor curses as he gives his final thrusts. I'm shaking and raw beneath him. He eventually stops and looks down upon his destruction. He spreads the slick on my thighs. He wraps my legs around him like a belt.

"I love to see you like this," he mutters in between breaths.

I heave as I blink slowly. My eyes act like I didn't just wake up from my sleep; I feel exhausted.

"Want to see you heavy with child," he rubs my belly, "my child. Fuck. I want to see you full. Love to see you leaking but I can't have that."

I try to move my legs, he instantly prevents me, "a bit more, love."

"… my leg is cramping," I cover my face with my arm.

He presses my thighs back into my chest, "just a bit more."

Sandor was laid back in bed, tracing his wife's spine with his fingers. She was straddled around his waist, laid upon him like a blanket. He listened to the sound of her steady breathing and slowly, involuntary, they begin to breathe at the same pace.

He could not express the relief, the astonishment he felt the very first time she let him hold her. The fact was, his tongue itches to tell her, to thank her for allowing him to relish the softness of her body, the warmth of her skin, the gentleness of her, even when she did not have to, even when he was not she was not getting anything in return, not like when they had sex.

But he would not express this. For what good was thanks if he had nothing to show for?

Words are empty.

For his lady, he'd carve out every skull and lay them upon her feet. He was good at that. But words? Empty.

Sandor watches as his wife stirred and looked at him.

Her hair was wild, skin sticky, eyes heavy, lips swollen. If gods were real, she was one of them.

"I think we should get dressed, husband."

His stomach skips at the name. He hated that he was so affected by it when he knew that it was duty to her; all she could feel for him was borne out of duty.

He brushes her hair back and nods, "I will not keep you longer than you'd like."

He notices how she purses her lips. He notices how she smiles. A dutiful smile.

Sandor smiles back. He wishes she'd grin at him the way she did her pups but he was hardly anything to grin about.

He watches as she pushes herself up and stands. He watches as she grabs her shift from the floor and heads to the bathroom.

Sandor rolls on the bed, breathing in the scent of their fucking… their love making. He loved her.

How could he love her if he hurt her?

He sighs and fantasizes about his wife being with child. He wonders if she'd like him more or stop caring for him once that happens.

He shakes it out of his head before he makes himself sad.

Later that day, he's back to training the boys how not to get themselves killed with their own swords. They've learned to be punctual all on their own (Polly snitches on whoever was late for the day, though he's never really set a time when practice starts).

Sage liked watching practice. He never did anything besides walk around and sniff whatever he could put his nose to, but he was always there. In some way, Sandor was very touched by this.

He was very protective of the pup, and found himself watching the small creature more than the kids he's supposed to be teaching.

But of course, he doesn't give a fuck about anyone else when his wife comes out.

"Sandor."

Immediately, Sandor turns around and perks up at the sound of the voice. Unbeknownst to him, the rest of the people in the yard do as well.

Lucy walks next to her lady. She holds a basket in one hand while she brings the other around her lady's arm. He feels a bitterness in his mouth, a bitter envy over the comfort the two women had with each other. He knows he'll never have that with his wife, but it doesn't hurt him any less.

"Lucy and I will go out to the market."

He drops everything and steps forward, "I'll accompany you."

Sage sticks his tongue out as he runs towards his beloved master, as if he understood the conversation, as if saying he, too, would be coming.

Sandor takes one look at the pup and says, "you sure as fuck 're not invited, dog."

Lady Clegane hushes the dog and reiterates a puppy cannot join them, then she looks up at Lord Clegane, "you do not have to join us either."

Sandor doesn't argue, he simply looks at Lucy, who was giving him a greasy look, and heads off to the gates.

Sandor had absolutely no idea which part of the market they were headed, so when they got there, he constantly glanced over his shoulder until eventually, his wife stopped at a vegetable stand. He turns back and hovers by them.

"Do you think we should get pumpkins?" Lady Clegane asks while absentmindedly holding an onion.

Lucy tilts her head, "we could but I don't think I could carry it."

"I'll carry it," Sandor chirps.

The two turn to him. His wife smiles and Lucy grins like a fool.

They end up buying a pumpkin that was nearly the size of his head.

Sandor is unable to make out what the two women were talking about as they walked in front of him because of how many people waved good morning or greeted him far too jovially. At a point, the women had to stop as Sandor got held up by a crowd of people wanting to have small talk with him.

Like a star, his wife saves him with her shining smile, garnering all the attention of the people for herself and quickly dispelling it. He has no idea how she does it.

They move on after and then his wife spots a stand of strawberries. He vaguely hears her excitedly tell Lucy how much she loves strawberry pie. Lucy tells her she knows this in the same excited way.

Lady Clegane is allowed to sample a strawberry. The Hound catches himself smiling at the way his wife savored the fruit.

They buy a basket full of strawberries and, just as Lucy and her lady walk away, Sandor asks the vendor where he could strawberry seeds. He doesn't get a straight answer right away and by the time he does, the women have walked off quite far.

Thankfully, by the time they notice their Hound was missing, Sandor managed to come back with a pouch of strawberry seeds in his pocket. He doesn't say anything about it though.

When they get back to Brown Wood, he immediately asks the groundskeeper, Job, if he could help him plant strawberries.

One of the servant girls, Margaret, was helping me out today. I was attempting to bake strawberry pie, and after three failed attempts, it was shaping up to be a futile task.

Margaret, face flushed and temples moistened with sweat, placed the fourth pie she fetched from the oven onto the kitchen counter. I frown as she wipes her forehead on her sleeve but play it off when she turns to me with a grin. Margaret says, "it smells so good, milady."

I give her back a smile, "I am glad to hear it."

She watches as I grab the knife and lean onto the counter. She says, "I'm very, very, very sure that we managed to make the pie just the way you like it."

I chuckle at the girl and place a hand on her shoulder, "I would hope so. I feel terrible for taking you from your chores, Margaret."

She perks and immediately shakes her head and hands, "don't be, milady! We all of us love helping you out," she brushes her hair away from her face, "even if we have to make twenty more pies to suit your taste, I would not complain."

I laugh softly as I take a towel and hold the hot pie tin in place. I take a slice of the dessert, though it was still scalding, and transfer it to my plate. I then move it towards the 3 other pies on the counter.

The truth is, there was nothing wrong with the pies. I had Margaret help me with making them precisely because she knew how to and I didn't. It's just that they didn't taste like the ones in my childhood, and I could not take it.

There was a pit in my stomach because of my lacking attempts. It was not of hunger, make no mistake, it was of longing.

I take a forkful of pie from my plate and take my time blowing some air on to the jammy thing before taking it into my mouth.

Margaret watches me with anticipation as I chew.

I look at her hopeful eyes, wanting nothing but to tell her we finally did it, but I supply her the truth, "it still tastes different."

Margaret deflates. I place the fork down on my plate as I lick my lips.

"Although the lemon and the cream did help a lot," I offer as consolation.

The girl perks and claps her hands, "then we're on the right path!"

I clear my throat and smile.

"Perhaps we can try adding other fruits into it. Or maybe you can try to recall some more details about the pie? Like a smell? Vanilla is hard to miss."

"Mmm, I don't think they added vanilla." I push the plate towards Margaret, "have a try, but be careful. It's still piping hot."

She grins at me, "thank you, milady!" then grins at the pie, taking her own fork.

I laugh at her, feeling a giddy sensation as I watch her lean forward as she takes a slice.

Margaret was the youngest out of the servant girls. She was 10 and 5 but looked quite mature for her age because of her height and fuller figure. Her demeanor was fully that of a darling girl though. Her parents used to be bakers. She told me she does not remember where their bodies were buried, so she occasionally offers prayers for them at an oak tree she used to swing on.

I imagine what it would be like for me to have my own child here in this moment. Would they also like strawberry pie? Would they care to help make it? Would they smile at me like Margaret?

I look up and see the Hound marching over. He looked a bit winded, and I figure he came from training. My belly tingles as we make eye contact.

Margaret finally takes a bite and she quite literally jumps up. She covers he mouth as she speaks, "THIS IS DELICIOUS!"

I giggle, "is it really?"

"By the gods, milady. You mean to tell me what you used to eat was better than this?"

I chuckle and watch as Sandor walks over. He heads for the cupboard where he immediately snatches a bottle of wine. He uncorks it with a pop and chugs it.

"Ehm, in a word it is," I reply to Margaret, "all I know is that it tastes different. I can't quite figure what however."

Sandor lets out a satisfied breath as he pulls the bottle away from his lips. He walks towards me, and it seems as though Margaret noticed him only now, judging by the way she jolted back and quickly greeted him.

The Hound ignores her though as he scrutinizes the countertop. He turns to me, "been baking all day, have you, little girl?"

I part my lips and battle with myself on a response. On one hand, I want to nag about how I was suddenly little girl again, but then again I quite enjoyed how his lips subtly curved upward as he spoke it.

Margaret steps back as Sandor takes up all the space by my side.

Although it was not glaringly obvious, there was a look of amusement in my husband's eyes. He sets the wine next to the pie slice and leans on the counter to get eye level with me, "you gonna give me a taste?"

I watch as he licks his lips and catch the way the wine stained them.

And so, to ward off my inner turmoil, I nag him about that instead, "alright. A slice in return for this," I snag the wine bottle, shocked by how he managed to drink it half empty already, though I really shouldn't. "You've had enough wine for today, Hound."

Sandor straightens up, dumbfounded by the turn of events. He shifts on his spot to watch me hand over the wine to Margaret, "get me a pitcher of water, my dear."

"Fuck water," Sandor scoffs.

Margaret looks between me and Sandor, heavily unsure and anxious of what to do next.

"Give me the bottle, wench," the Hound barks.

Margaret gulps and I take a step between them.

"Stop it," I scowl at him.

"But-"

"You won't enjoy the flavor of the pie if you ruin your tongue with wine." I look over and dismiss Margaret. She quickly curtsies and runs off.

"Hey- GIVE IT BA-"

"Stop it!" I grab his shoulders, "quit scaring the girl!"

The Hound walks back as I push him, "she took my wine!"

"You can have wine at supper," I quip, "if you're going to have pie, just have pie."

Sandor huffs as I release him. I then take my fork and slice a chunk for him. I bring the fork to my lips and take a moment to blow on the pie. Once it's cool enough, I bring my fork towards Sandor, my other hand underneath it to catch any falling crumbs. I get on my tiptoes to have a better hold on the fork.

He pulls his head back at first, but two seconds later, he leans in and takes a bite.

I relax on the pads of my feet and put the fork down.

He chews as he looks down on me.

I stare up at him with expectation.

He licks his lips and nods, "it's good."

I wait for him to say anything more but he doesn't. I press my lips into a line, "that's nice to hear."

He looks at me for a moment, hums, and tilts his head, "what do I owe you, then?"

"What?"

"What do I owe you?"

I raise my brows.

"Want me to feed you next?" he raises a brow.

I furrow my brows, "no…? You don't owe me anything."

He hums and shakes his head, "how about a kiss?"

"What?"

Sandor smiles lopsidedly. He bends and places his hands on my waist, yanking me into him. My body blazes with crackling flames as I'm pressed against him.

Before he can lean in, I push him by his chest with both hands. I immediately turn my face away and quip with my eyes shut, "you don't have to kiss me!"

I hold my breath. Sandor watches. Slowly, whatever expression he held slips off and gets tugged down along with the corners of his lips.

He releases me and I catch my breath. Sandor feels like his hands and arms were foreign appendages that had no business being on him. He awkwardly clenches and unclenches his fists.

I turn back to him with knit brows. He looks at me with a hard expression.

"You don't owe me things, Sandor."

His expression tightens.

I huff and place a hand on his chest, "I don't do things so… you have to repay me…"

A deep line forms between his brows.

I shake my head, shrug and smile softly, "I do them because I want to… you should only do the same."

He sighs through his nostrils and takes the hand I had on his chest. He brings it into his large ones and looks at them.

He opens his mouth and speaks so softly, under his breath, "you have such a strong sense of duty."

I blink at his words, thinking they somehow feel out of context. I figure it was true anyway, so I agree, "a sense of duty keeps me together."

Sandor turns back to me, "just as your duty being my wife."

I raise my brows.

He kisses the back of my hand before setting it down. He nods at me as he mutters, "I want what you want… If you don't want me to kiss you, then I won't."

My eyes widen, "I- I didn't say that."

He chuckles dryly, "you pulled away so fervently."

"Because you asked me what you owed!" I exclaimed, "you don't owe me."

He laughs a bit louder, "everything's got a price."

For a moment we stare at each other.

"Then how much do I owe you?"

He seems to thinks for a moment. He offers no response.

I suck in a breath, "if you want to kiss me, kiss me. Kiss me because you want to, not because… you owe me." I feel pathetic as I add, "I do not wish to buy your affection."

"Do you want me to kiss you?"

I feel my mouth go dry. It's as though my voice is taken from me and I barely manage to croak out a, "yes."

It takes too long. The Hound does not believe it. He shakes his head and says with no conviction, "very well."

[ken-dom]

I’ve got a little idea if this interest you for Sebastian 💛 the ending of la la land is so gut wrenching to me. I’d love to read something where seb gets an ending I’d like even more where he not only makes the jazz club dream a reality but he has a wife that always comes to watch him play & they’ve got babies too. The club AND a family like he deserves and dreamed about!

I'd be lying if I said I haven't wondered what Seb has going on in his life after we see him at his jazz club. Maybe the club itself is enough for him, or maybe he finds love somewhere unexpected, maybe he starts a family along the way, too. Anon, I feel like your idea deserves a long post-canon fic, but I hope this little drabble is enough for now 💕 I also have a spicy Seb one in the works too if that interests you!

Dreams

Sebastian Wilder x gn!reader

∘₊✧ 400 words

∘₊✧ Fluff, kissing, comfort, Seb having children is vaguely alluded to but not explicitly stated

∘₊✧─────────────────────✧₊∘

Visions of a life he had long left behind faded as Sebastian's consciousness pulled him away from the world of dreams.

The thorns left behind from the story his mind had chosen to tell him made his breath catch in his throat as he awoke. It was jarring. Despite this, the warmth of morning greeted him kindly. It was pleasant, and he chose not to fight that feeling.

His limbs were heavy with sleep, eyes only half-open as he adjusted to the bright room. The sounds of laughter from outside broke through into his waking senses. It was laughter he recognised, carried in on the gentle breeze through the open window, and it settled over his heart, softening the sharp edges that had been exposed while he slept.

Shifting against his pillow, he became aware of an external weight on his body - your arm, comfortable around his waist, fingers innocently grazing up and down the soft trail of hair below his belly button.

With a contented sigh, his lips instinctively pulled up into a relieved smile, and he turned to find you already awake beside him.

You, bathed in a dreamy warm glow. Perfect, and completely absorbed in him.

His lips were drawn to yours like a magnet, natural and easy, but there was no urgency in his kiss. He had forever to spend with you, and he intended to take every moment as it came, memorising as many as he could.

Slowly, tenderly, his lips slid over yours, stubble stinging at your flesh until the tip of his handsome nose brushed yours when he pulled back.

'There's a lot to do at the club. They're waiting for me,' he muttered reluctantly, husky with sleep and ever so slightly drunk on your kiss.

Your fingertips curled into his shoulders as you attempted to pull him back to you anyway. 'Aww... just five more minutes, Seb?'

'I can't, I've got to-'

'Please,' you begged, hitting him with your best puppy dog eyes.

Seb inhaled deeply, breathing all the warmth of you and this glorious morning in. How could he pass up on that? The club would still be there in five more minutes. Hell, it would still be there in half an hour.

'Alright. You're right. C'mere.'

And as his arms dragged you flush to his chest, his lips pressed to yours once more.

[edith-hyde]

Hey, I don't know if you still up for it ot whether you have some rules about requests, but I've seen your post about doing Peter Hale x reader and others. And I'd really like to see your general dating headcanons with Peter Hale or Chris Argent💛

I've got so many ideas for a Peter Hale series! I hope to start posting it eventually. I will gladly do a dating headcanons for him. And I'll throw in Chris too. Everything here will be safe for work, of course. Enjoy!

Dating Peter Hale

He was so scared to tell you the truth about what he was, but when you found out, you didn't care.

He loves showing off his money. Expect expensive gifts.

But he's not a fan of huge crowds, so no big fancy dinners. He much prefers to eat in private with just the two of you. Or maybe at some small place.

Does NOT like candle lit dinners. Nor a yule log at Christmas. Or grilling out.

You and he learn how to cook together because he's so used to just buying all his meals. There's a lot of burned chicken, but also a lot of joy and laughter and making out in the kitchen. (That's why it burned.)

He's very touch starved. When you first start dating, he flinches every time you touch him. It takes some time, but eventually he can't keep himself from reaching for your hand or laying on your shoulder. He's heavy but you're fine with it.

He wants to make all the plans so you don't have to worry about anything. Just trust him to know what's best.

If you have family, they probably aren't too fond of him. He brings expensive wine to get-togethers though, so that might put him in their good graces if they like that kind of thing. If not, he'll depend on his usual charms. It might take awhile, but they'd eventually accept that he's here to stay.

Expect calls in the middle of the night. Or he might just show up. He doesn't sleep well and he needs comfort from the nightmares. If he hasn't slept the night before, he will curl up in your lap on your sofa and sleep. Stroking his hair really helps. When he's truly comfortable with you, he's prone to just falling asleep just so long as you're somewhere nearby. He especially likes to nap while you're driving.

Loves to just walk with you in the woods.

He's surprisingly knowledgeable about furniture and helps you decorate your house or apartment.

He wants everyone to know that you belong to him. He purposefully nuzzles into your hair to leave his scent on you. He loves giving you his jacket too. All the werewolves in town know you're taken.

Despite his bravado, he's constantly worried that you're going to leave him. He needs regular assurances that you love him.

He gets jealous easily. Your guy friends might wanna watch out. And you might have to have a long talk with Peter and get it through his head that they're not a threat to your relationship. Once he's 100% sure, this calms down. But he still doesn't like men fliting with you.

You help him rebuild his relationship with Malia and he loves you even more for it. The three of you sometimes get together and do dinner. You're there to console her when she and Scott break up and you have to keep Peter from going to LA and trying to kill Scott for a third time.

He constantly brags about having you to Derek and anyone else who will listen.

He will listen to you rant about work and the people that bother you. Then he'll offer to take them out. You assume he's joking, but sometimes, if they really upset you, he totally means it.

He will show up at your work and pester you. It's distracting, but you love seeing him.

His name for you in his phone is "My Queen".

He gives great skin care advice and has a wonderful sense of fashion. Also knows all the best hair care products. He loves to take you shopping for new stuff and buys everything. He gets broody if you won't let him shower you in gifts.

Sometimes when he's emotional, his eyes will turn blue and he will turn away because he's worried about scaring you. When you kiss him despite his fangs, he knows you truly don't care. You're even kinda into it much to his amusement.

If he upsets you, expect a huge vase of flowers. If you're not a flowers person, he gets chocolates or some kind of jewelry. He knows he can't buy your affections, but that isn't going to stop him from trying. He will eventually give a proper apology, but he hates admitting that he was wrong. Consider yourself lucky if he does.

Dating Chris Argent

He's the sweetest thing on the planet. His tired blue eyes and sad smile make you melt every time.

He lights up every time he sees you.

He lets you pick where you go to dinner, though he usually surprises you with a home made meal. This man can cook and you love it.

Brings you coffee or hot chocolate almost every morning.

Mows your grass and fixes your car for you without being asked.

You like to watch him clean his guns after a mission.

Sometimes comes home with some pretty gnarly wounds. You always clean him up and make him promise it won't happen again. But it keeps happening anyways. He hates to make you worry, but he has a job to do.

Early in your relationship, he constantly tries to run. He's afraid that if you love him, you'll die like everyone else has. It takes you awhile, but you eventually manage to convince him that you're not going anywhere.

Date night is just diner and a movie on his couch. He's not a fan of hanging out in public. But he will go to the park with you on sunny days. If you have an interest in guns, he'll take you to a shooting range.

He likes to just dance with you around the kitchen when he's in a really good mood.

He takes you on trips to France after you've been together for awhile, and shows you all the best places away from the crowds.

If you have any family, they are wary of him at first, but then they love him. He's so respectful. Your mom wants you to marry him tomorrow.

He has some trouble sleeping and can often be found sitting on his back porch, having a beer at night. If you show up, he finds it easier to get some rest.

He will always do his best to keep you safe. He might even train you how to fight if you ask.

If he does train you, you like to distract him while sparring by kissing him. It works every time.

He often has Scott and his friends over for dinner. You love having so many fun people around.

In a perfect world, Isaac comes and visits often and once accidentally calls you mom. Chris thinks it's hilariously adorable.

If he upsets you, he gives a sincere apology. You can't stay mad at those sad blue eyes no matter how hard you try.

[tellmeallaboutit]

knock knock (Raphael x F!Player)

Chapter 14, In Which You Play The Main Role

AO3

Art: Apollonia Saintclair – Love is a Killer

Fresh flowers.

Smelled like fresh flowers, freshly cut roses. Smelled amazing.

You opened one eye to admire a bouquet on the bedstand right before you, and then opened the second one. Twelve blood-red roses, their stems neatly trimmed. Nestled within was a card simply signed with an ornate letter 'R'. 

"Well done on not fleeing tonight," it read.

You tried once and learned your lesson. You were back at the place you tried to escape, having achieved nothing but landing your mother in a hospital, and you sure as hell won’t try again any time soon. You were stark naked, but a quick check reassured you that nobody had taken liberties while you slept.

An odd sense of disappointment seeped into you at that realisation, as if you had been overlooked in some way.

Pushing it aside, you stretched and checked the time - 10:30 am on a Saturday morning. Really? That means you slept more than thirty hours straight; a weird, dreamless slumber, much like being dead.

You turned; the side to the bed next to you was meticulously done, as if no one had been there at all. There was a lawn mower buzzing in the garden. Not a thing seemed out of place; blissfully serene. 

Where was Raphael? Where were both of them? Working?

You grabbed your phone and checked it next - nobody died while you were sleeping.

Nobody you knew, at least.

***

You were heading to grab some breakfast when you heard Raphael’s voice from across the upper floor. The other one, the man he was conversing with, sounded strangely familiar too. 

The usually locked study door was wide open. If they wanted to keep their business hush-hush, they'd have ensured it was bolted shut, wouldn’t they?

"Raul, are you out of your mind?" a male voice asked. "Even Avernus Capital doesn't have that kind of cash on balance."

"I've managed to secure third-party financing to bridge the shortfall." That unmistakable Raphael tone, but Raul's words.

You tiptoed closer, positioning yourself just beyond the doorway.

"Who would have both the money and sheer idiotism to help you take Blackrock private?” 

You vaguely recognised the name 'Blackrock', but couldn’t place it right away.

"Turns out some institutions still hold considerable fortunes," Raul responded. “You’d be surprised what compound interest does through centuries of tax-free reign”.

A quiet pause hung in the air before realization hit the other guy (where do you recognize his voice from?): "I see. Is that why you've been schmoozing up to the Vatican? Why would they get involved in your personal insanity?"

Raphael’s signature laugh echoed through the room; it must be a very large room indeed.

“The same reason anyone does anything: discontentment with how things are evolving and hope for a better leader.”

The other man sighed.

“This is not about money anymore, is it, Raul? Look, I respect your financial acumen but you are not - NOT - cut out for politics. With your... ahem... Neapolitan roots? I am being polite now, Raul. How long until they start digging up skeletons in your father’s garden?”

Intrigued, you couldn't help but peek into the room. Raphael was lounging against a pristine glass desk in his full cambion form, cigarette poised between his fingers, sleeves of his crisp white cotton shirt rolled up. He looked relaxed, unbothered, his tail resting peacefully beside him. The only other person in the room was a middle-aged man with ashen blond hair, facing away from you in a leather chair.

The study itself was a bizarre mix of avant-garde decor and Catholic art. Behind Raphael, a replica of Caravaggio (or not a replica…) dominated the entire wall, a depiction of dying Lazarus; not something you would hang to welcome guests. Thin white Venetian blinds covered floor-to-ceiling windows.

Raphael took an indulgent drag from his cigarette and smiled, making a sweeping gesture with his hand. "The gardens of my father are under cultural heritage protection," he said, "and are not to be dug up, come hell or high water." He paused for a moment before continuing, "And yes, you are right. Maybe I've found a calling more profound than just being Mammon's servant. Perhaps his reign is nearing its end; his promises revealed to be empty. After all, he can't keep exploiting his flock ad infinitum if they refuse to reproduce, can he?" 

You wondered if Raul’s constant smoking irked Raphael because there was something freudian about how he constantly dragged on a cigarette.

"A servant of Mammon..." Markus repeated. "A higher calling... Do you even hear yourself?"

"I do," Raphael replied. "And I quite like what I hear. See, Markus; inspire a man’s faith and he’ll paint the Sistine Chapel. Oppress him and he’ll create a masterpiece of fury and rebellion. Give him freedom and prepare for an avalanche of TikTok reels. I refuse to accept the downward spiral this world is in. And so should you."

With a flick of his wrist, Raphael extinguished his cigarette on a marble ashtray and stretched out his shoulders.

“I’m taking over Blackrock,” he said. “And with it comes the infrastructure, the influence, the manpower, the global investments to shape this world as I see fit. No longer will Mammon's greed dictate our fate."

The man scoffed. "You're living in a fantasy world," he said. “You'd have to navigate through a mountain of regulators, politicians, public and private investors. No one is willing to relinquish power back to the Old World. And if you keep spouting this nonsense, the engine of your private jet may just... Oh, what's the matter?"

Following Raphael’s glance, the man turned to you; visibly annoyed. 

Oh no, you knew him from the TV and newspapers - the leader of the democratic liberal party. There was even a tweet of yours out there vowing to spit in his face if given the chance after his speech on welfare and immigrants.

He looked at you with an arched eyebrow; dismissing you at first glance, clearly expecting you to shut the door but Raphael waved you over instead.

“This woman is privy to all my secrets, Markus,” Raphael stated. “Allow me to introduce you to my consort, Anya Berger.”

“Your what now?”, Markus blinked in surprise. “A pleasure to meet you, Ms. Berger”.

”My beloved consort”, he repeated, looking right into your eyes with a tender smile. “The wonderful being that gave me the keys to my kingdom come”. He beckoned again, this time with more urgency: "Come here mouse; don't be timid."

Raphael introduced you as his consort in front of one of the most powerful people in the country. It felt surreal.

He leaned in for a kiss and you happily obliged, tasting his perfectly soft and moisturised lips. As your eyes fluttered open mid-kiss, you stole a glance at Markus who was looking increasingly uncomfortable.

"Three weeks ago, you were swearing off women," Markus sighed, shaking his head in disbelief. "Remember when that French girl accused you of God knows what and Camilla needed my help to handle the media fallout?"

"I am forever grateful for your assistance during that time," Raphael responded. "But then I met this enchanting creature and it made me question everything. Look at her! Isn't she an absolute treasure?"

Markus exhaled slowly, clearly struggling with his thoughts before finally voicing them: "Raul, if I don't say this out loud, no one in your circle will. You're...well," he paused again, searching for the right words. "You're losing touch with reality. At first, I thought it was just rumours but now..." He shot a sharp look at you before continuing, "After your father's death, you clawed your way into the top hundred but don't - DON'T - mistake wealth for power; they're not interchangeable currencies."

Raphael watched him with detached amusement, his hand gently stroking your thigh.

“You are not immortal, Raul, is what I am trying to say”.

Raphael let out a laugh. "I just might be. Only death will tell for sure."

Markus' attempts at a diplomatic response died on his lips as he stared at Raphael in disbelief.

“You know, Raul”, he finally said. “The next thing I expect is you telling me God speaks through you”.

Raphael snapped his fingers as if struck by an idea. "Funny you should say that. I had a most peculiar dream of Archangel Raphael recently. Maybe one day God will choose me as His envoy and I will spread His word loud and clear. After all, His flock tends to wreck chaos when left unguided”.

Markus turned to you, pleading for some form of support. "You...you don't think it's crazy talk, Ms. Berger? You don't want to say anything to your boyfriend?"

“I don’t think it’s crazy talk”, you shrugged. “And I am an expert”.

That silenced him.

“Anya stands by me no matter what, my precious little mouse”, Raphael purred, placing a hand on your shoulder. “While it appears I’ve vastly overestimated your loyalty, Markus. Years of friendships, of secrets shared, of deals struck, and this is your payback. Tsk-tsk. Have you forgotten what happened in Sankt Moritz in 99? Because I certainly haven't."

If the threat bothered him, Markus did not let it show; he stood up from his chair and dusted off his suit.

“I've vastly overestimated your sanity, Raul”, Markus retorted. “I wish both of you a good day. You won't be having my backing in Davos, by the way. When you fall - and you will - I refuse to get pulled down with you.”

“Anya?”, Raphael looked at you with a smile. “Do you want to wish our dear guest something? A final farewell, perhaps?"

What? 

Should you kill Markus or something? You could gladly spit him in the face, but killing him yourself seems a bit… ugh… well. 

He could just… change his mind.

“I wish you would… reconsider?”, you suggested. “I wish you would reconsider”.

That came out… the way it came out.

Markus stared at you the very familiar stare of somebody who both slightly pities you and is slightly disgusted by you.

“…madhouse”, the man said and went straight for the door. 

As soon as the door closed behind Markus, you turned to Raphael with a bewildered look on your face.

“Was that...was that really-”

“It was whom I used to consider a friend. Perhaps with a tad more fervor in your wishes next time, my dear mouse”, Raphael said, a smile on his face that barely masked annoyance. “A bit more direction as well. You are only granted that which you truly yearn for, after all."

You quickly nodded, and watched his face shift. It was fleeting, momentarily, but you learned to read it very well.

"So, my sleeping beauty, did you have a good rest?" Raul asked. "You were out for a full day and a half. I was practically dying of loneliness and yet, being the gentleman that I am, I let you sleep in peace. Now don't I deserve some praise for being so kind?”

“You do”, you nodded. “Amazing fit of willpower”.

“Did you miss me terribly?”, he asked as he pushed strands of hair away from your face. “Or did you think about running away again?”

“Yes, of course”, you said, and quickly corrected yourself: “I mean no, no thoughts of running away, of course, and yes, I missed you terribly”.

Raul interpreted your words in the only way he wanted to interpret them.

“Is that so? I have twenty minutes until the next call”, he said, pulling your body to him. "Do you think that would be enough to show me how badly I was missed?”

read the rest on ao3

[russellsppttemplates]

I'm with you all the way (Mick Schumacher)

Baby Aurora is ready to make her entrance to the world

Note: english is not my first language. this is another long piece that I hope you enjoy (I've had this one planned for a bit and I'm so happy I'm finally publishing it)! Also, of you're looking for more pieces of dad!Mick, I also have some pieces on my masterlist where they become a family of four and some other moments too! (You can read the latest one here!)

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: pregnancy and childbirth

Your night routine, especially when Mick was home, had turned into a ritual that he would not do without. Like so, you were laying on the bed already, having done your skincare and brushed your teeth, your loose pyjama top resting just under your boobs while Mick also got ready.

Grabbing the bottle of bump oil, he dosed the right amount on this hands and spread the product on your skin, "you know, today was the last day at the factory before winter break, and everyone was hoping you'd pay them a visit as soon as it was possible. And you got some gifts too, we now have a few team onesies for you, and they also said they would get a pair of headphones ready for when you attend your first race", he smiled kissing the skin above your belly button, "I'm sure that's going to be an eventful day", you chipped in. This routine had been pretty early on and it always allowed Mick to feel closer to his babygirl. He would usually tell her all about his day, random thoughts he had and discussions you would have about certain topics, "did you feel okay today?", he asked, laying his head near your bump but looking up at you, "yes, I mean, at this stage there's always a degree of discomfort, but I've been okay. Spent most of the day changing a few things around and I also cooked a big batch of food to put in the freezer", you added, brushing his blond hairs with your fingers.

You think you managed to sleep about four hours until you were woken up from the pain on your hips and your lower back. They were once than cramps but still tolerable, yet they were keeping you from sleeping all way through the night. They became a lot more frequent, around forty minutes between each of them, leaving you like you were standing on a tightrope: you'd be woken up from the pressure, it would relieve and you'd do your best to fall asleep, only to be woken up by the pressure again and repeat the cycle.

By the time morning rolled around, Mick woke up at his regular hour, turning to face you, "good morning, liebling", he croaked out, his hand landing on your bump with soft strokes, "morning, my love", you yawned, "I did not sleep all that well, I think I might cut out of watching you work out today", you apologised, "it's okay. Take sometime to rest, yeah?", he cuddled you for a little, "but what happened?".

Appreciating the way his body heat was feeling against your skin, you snuggled further into him, fingers tracing shapes on his chest, "I have this pressure on my hips and lower back, I don't even know if they're contractions. In my head, it makes sense that I would feel those in my belly, right? Because of how the baby is coming out? I don't know, I just know I barely slept", you pouted, feeling Mick's lips on your forehead, "maybe it's just some Braxton-Hick contractions", he mumbled, moving his hand to soothe the areas you had complained about.

When you got up to use the toilet in hopes of going back to bed when you noticed some blood, making you finish your business and meet Mick in the home gym, "I thought you were going to sleep? Are you alright?", he wondered, not expecting to see you there, "I had a tiny bit of blood on my underwear and I have just texted my OB about it, maybe it is my mucous plug? And those were in fact real contractions, so maybe there's that", you told him, "but I feel fine, like any other day, Rora has kicked and everything, no now we just wait", you finished, grabbing a comfy chair you had in the gym for the purpose of sitting while your husband worked out. A lovely view, one might had.

"What did she say?", Mick questioned as he set the weight back on the stand, having heard the notification on your phone going off, "she is advising that we go to the hospital to get checked out, and that she'll call me later", you read, setting your phone down, "so maybe after this, we have breakfast and then you pack the rest of your things?", you suggested, earning a nod from Mick, "I can finish now, there's no need to-", your husband began tidying up, "no need for that. I'm feeling fine, genuinely. And, besides, you were just going to do some squats, right? Mama wants to see that", you giggled, tapping his butt when he walked past you, shaking his head from side to side at your comment.

Despite the initial hurry Mick felt, you were able to do things like you normally would, commenting many times how you actually felt pretty okay and if you should really go to the emergency room, "better be safe than sorry, liebling", Mick offered as he finished putting the last things on his hospital bag, "I'm packed, do you need me to get you anything from upstairs?", he asked one last time before he went upstairs to get the phone chargers.

When you go the hospital, you went straight to the CTG room where they would monitor the contractions and the baby's heartrate, talking to Mick and every healthcare professional that walked in time to time just to check that everything was okay, "is it painful?", your husband asked, "a little bit of pain comes whenever I feel the pressure, but other than that, it's the same as any day", you explained, squeezing his hand that was holding yours.

When the doctor on call looked at the paper that was coming out of the machine, she decided to do an observational exam, "your cervix is still in a posterior position, and it's closed still. You are in early labour, yes, and you did very well in coming here today, but this is going to take a few days. You've only had two contractions while you were here as well. So maybe next week something should occur", she smiled.

"Is there anything we can do now?", Mick asked, a little bit more relieved that everything was fine, "just take this time to rest", she offered, bidding you goodbye as you, too, made your way back home.

Back home, you and Mick spent the afternoon in the sofa, only getting up when you needed the bathroom or when you wanted to eat or drink water, Angie cuddled up next to you. While the pain remained at the same tolerable level, it was around dinner time that you began to feel it around every 20 minutes.

The night had proven to be even harder. If you had only slept a little bit the previous night, tonight you couldn't sleep at all. The contractions were coming along every four to ten minutes, and the pain had increased significantly. You went to sleep at ten at night, given your tiredness, and now three hours later, you were past the point of not wanting to bother Mick, "Mick, my love, wake up please", you called, shaking his body softly and firmly at the same time, seeing him open his eyes, "what's wrong?", he croaked out, "I can't sleep because the pain just got a lot lot worse, and I don't think I can be here. And I'm probably in labour", you muttered between another contraction, "let's go then", he said, getting up and helping you up too, putting on something a little more decent other than pyjama shorts and a sleeping gown for you.

The bags had ready been in the car from your trip this morning, making Mick only grab the chargers and head out with you, "Angie, mama is going to the hospital, and by the looks of it, your sister will be home soon", you held the dog's snout on your hands before kissing her, almost noticing weariness in her eyes, after all, her humans were not usually up at this time of the day. "Shall we go then?", Mick asked, guiding you to the car after petting the dog's head.

Driving to the hospital was fine, your body recoiling a little bit whenever you felt another contraction, "we're nearly there, liebling", your husband conforted, his hand squeezing yours on top of your thigh. Sensing his worry, you looked to calm him down a little, "Hey,", you squeezed him hand back , "So far everything is good, and we're finally gonna meet this little lady. So until we have to, let's not worry, okay?", you finished as he parked near the entrance of the hospital, "I can walk from here".

Mick flashed you his dashing smile, leaving his side and going around the car to help you out once he put on the backpack and slung the other bag over his shoulder, "Let's go then", he said, somehow managing to lock the car and support your lower back, along with the bags, along to the door.

Your midwife, Caroline, was already waiting for you at the entrance, "I was just going to ask if you needed help, but you look like you're just fine!", the older women exclaimed once she saw Mick, "perks of being an athete, I guess", he chuckled nervously, "where do we sign in?", he asked once he sat you in one of the wheelchairs as comfortable as you could be.

"Hi liebling, how are you handling it?", he asked as soon as he walked inside the room after filling in all the paperwork, seeing you already in a hospital gown and your OB typing things on her iPad, "I'm good, they're getting stronger, but I'm handling it, I think", you smiled, happy to have him back with you. "Hi, everyone. Sorry, I just came in and didn't even greet everyone", he blushed, "That's okay, don't worry. Like I said to Y/N, she is 4 fingers dilated, so this little one is coming out today", she smiled, "if you need anything, please call someone, okay?", she said before herself and the rest of the team eventually left you two in the room.

"I hate seeing you like this", Mick mumbled against your skin, kissing your sweaty forehead, "it's part of the job, but yes, if there was a way I could give you some of this discomfort, I would give you since you're offering", you said back, chuckling a little before groaning at another contraction, opening your eyes when it finished when you noticed two yoga balls, "I want to go on the ball, I want to try it", you pointed, your husband promptly helping you to do so and grabbing the second one so he could sit and be at your eye level, "I love you, Y/N", he said once he got comfortable, holding your hands in his as you rocked your hips from side to side, "I love you too, so much, Mick. We're finally going to meet our babygirl", you said, "we are, my love. And it's all because of you", he recognised, gulping when he saw you bracing yourself for another contraction, "it took the two of us to do the deed", you attempted to pull a smile out of him, failing by a small margin as only the corners of his lips lifted up and smiled a tight lipped one, "yet you're the one-", he attempted but you shushed him, "None of that. You're being amazing, and I would like some kisses and I don't fancy them if they're not from you", you smirked, seeing him smile a genuine one this time.

Later, you wanted to move to the bed as the tiredness began washing over your body. If this was what happened after two sleepless night, the newborn phase was going to be interesting to go through.

"Here, careful, I'll call someone, yes?", Mick said, the crease between his eyebrows back on his handsome face. The room door opened and Caroline walked in, "how are we doing, Y/N?", she asked softly, approaching you, "I'm okay-ish, they're picking up now, like a lot", you mentioned, "Mick was just about to call someone", you yelped.

"It's 5 am, so you could be going along well. Let me check you, please", she urged, helping you scoot down down on the bed, "okay, you're about 8 to 9 fingers dilated, good job Y/N!".

"You're doing so well, liebling", he mumbled against your skin, "I'm going to check with the OB, but looking how this is going, you should expect to be wheeled into the birthing room in an hour or so", she smiled, typing the new informations on her iPad before leaving you two.

You opened your arms, your husband taking the hint immediately and sitting on the edge of the be, one leg next to your while the other supported him on the floor, his hands soothing your pains around your hips and back area, "does your bump hurt?", he asked as he scattered a few kissed everywhere he could reach, "I don't think I can tell apart the areas where it hurts, it's just my whole torso", you said and immediately regretted it, sensing his tension grow at his helplessness, "but your hands are doing a good job at distracting me, and I appreciate that a lot", you soothed him, hopefully, the feel of his fingers and his scent calming your own body despite everything that was going on.

Between shared affections, words of encouragement and even a video call from Corinna, the time came for you to be wheeled into the birthing room, doctors and nurses ready to.

Your body was urging you to push and you complied. Holding Mick's hand, he helped your support your torso when your strenght was giving out, "C'mon, Y/N, you're doing an incredible job!", Caroline urged you while Mick mumbled into your ear, "a few more pushes and Aurora will be here with us", he encouraged, "you're doing so well, my love, I'm amazed at you".

It took you three big pushes until your baby girl was out in the world. Leaning back against the pillow, you felt Mick kiss the side of your head until your senses focused on the new noise, a high pitch scream from your daughter, "she's here, Y/N, congratulations mama and papa", Caroline said as she placed the baby on your chest.

A head full of blond hair, the softest of chubby cheeks ever and eyes wide open just taking in the world around her, quietly calming down as soon as she felt your skin on her. You briefly looked at Mick and, like you, tears were running down his face as he kept caressing your shoulders and whispering praises and "thank you"s on your ear, his finger coming up to touch his daughter's soft cheek.

"Look at her, she's so tiny", you whispered, kissing the top of her head and looking at your husband again, kissing his lips chastely while the medical team waited for you to deliver the placenta, checking if everything was going like it was supposed to.

After a few minutes of admiring her, Caroline approached you, "you're all set, Y/N, everything looks good and it should heal nicely. Now, we need to take this little lady to check everything with her, okay?", she asked as one of the nurses held out her arms, making your extend your own so she could grab her.

Mick looked at you like you hung the moon and the stars just for him on a regular basis, but at that moment, it was more than that. You gave him the start of his own family, a little girl who had captured his heart the moment you told him you were expecting and new opportunities to form memories.

"I love you so much. Thank you for not letting me give up", you whispered and you kissed his hand that was caressing your cheek and brushing the hairs out of your eyes, "You've made me a father, there's, again, no words to thank you for that".

Seeing your husband holding the baby your love created really was a whole thing. Hormones were flying around since you had given birth, and now back in the room, watchinh your husband being the most attentive ever to your little girl was the last drop. While Caroline checked your vitals and made sure everything was healing nicely, you couldn't stop looking at Mick walking around with Aurora tucked into his chest, his hands holding her against him while he spoke soflty, "and after Opa Michael, there's Oma Corinna, she has been so excited since she knew you were coming, she's going to be enamoured of you, I just know it. I think she's making her way here, actually", he smiled as he turned to you, seeinh you nod, "they're going to spoil you so much, little one", he said before placing a kiss on top of his daughter's head.

"Do you want to do some skin to skin with her? Babies enjoy it a lot, especially when they're this young", Caroline pointed out.

There, that was the last straw, "sure!", Mick said enthusiastically, settling the baby on your chest so he could take his shirt off, "there we go", Caroline helped him place his hands around her small body. And that was a sight you would happily watch all day, every single day, making you grab your phone so you could save the moment forever, "you're both very enamoured with your little one, as expected, so I'm going to leave you. Call if you need anything", Caroline excused herself.

"You know, I'm very happy that she's here safe and sound, but I'm also very happy that my body is preventing me from having another kid right away because right now it sounds great, even though my rational self also knows it would be crazy, doable, but crazy", you mused, looking at Mick and seeing him watch you, "and as I was saying, because mama seems to have forgotten that there are little ears in the room, me and mama are sure to love on you any moment of your life, that is a promise we've made long ago and that we intend to keep forever", he gulped, looking back at you to kiss your forehead, "rest up a little bit, liebling, me and Rora are going to catch up".

[darkstarofchaos]

Okay. Now my more in-depth thoughts about the latest EarthSpark drop. I'll be going more plot point by plot point than episode by episode, so all my thoughts about a particular character or plot device will stay together. And of course, spoilers ahead.

I guess I'll start by giving BreakBee shippers my sympathy. For a minute there, I thought Breakdown was actually going to switch sides. And the fact that he didn't would have made a lot more sense if the Decepticons had ever had any positive interactions after being freed. But outside of a couple pairs, they only ever seemed to (barely) tolerate each other, so Breakdown's line of "they're my family" rings pretty hollow. Turns out you need to actually treat your villains like people for emotion-driven beats to make sense. Who would have thought?

Once again, the Decepticons were the most disappointing part of the show. Like, I thought Shockwave's thing about the Decepticons being more trustworthy under his command was going to go somewhere, but no. Next episode the Cons appear in, they just bail. No more Decepticons for us Con fans, because now there are only two left known to still be on the planet. And one of them is back in jail. Which could go somewhere interesting now that the bots are forced to deal with him directly instead of humans overseeing imprisonment, but I don't even know if the show is getting any more episodes, so I'm not gonna bother hoping.

Also, I was undecided last night about whether Shockwave was actually a better leader than Starscream or not, because we see almost nothing of his command. Now that I've slept on it, though, I think he was actually a worse leader. Because he did the equivalent of bet one's life savings on a horse race. Only the life savings in this case was the freedom of his troops (who are stuck with no known means of acquiring energon, by the way). Betting your freedom on a race isn't logical, it's stupid. The logical thing to do would have been to refuse to bargain, because unless the kids and Bee decided a comic wasn't worth releasing the Cons over, Shockwave had all the power. So yeah, with nothing else really known about his leadership, I have to say he's terrible at it.

Moving on from the Decepticons, this family has no boundaries OMG. The movie night episode was a nightmare to sit through, because everything about it was so unhealthy? Quirky family movie night! With no empathy, no communication, and no lesson being learned. Robbie never once tells anyone to stop trying to "help", he just passive-aggressively takes it. And as usual, that stupid emotional connection thing is nowhere to be found when it's inconvenient to the plot, because no one ever picks up on the fact that they're upsetting Robbie. This kind of humor does not have a place in a show that's supposed to be about family, especially when there's no lesson about setting boundaries or thinking about others instead of yourself involved.

Episode 3 was a nightmare Twitch had. That's why everyone was so weirdly dependent on her, and why things grew progressively more absurd as time went on. That's my headcanon and I'm sticking to it. Also, I'm not convinced magnets work that way, but it seems to be within the realm of plausibility based on a search for DIY magnets, so sure.

On that note, I'm still salty that Nightshade isn't being allowed any standalone episodes, but this batch was almost entirely ensembles, so that's fine, I guess. At least someone actually referred to them using their pronouns, unlike the last batch. But I would like to know what they've been up to lately, because I would swear they didn't have that stereotypical "scientist constantly uses technical words" speech pattern before.

Okay, frustration and tedium done, let's talk about Prowl. Actually, first we need to talk about Optimus and Megatron, because they appear first, but hey, we made it to the Prowl episodes. Otherwise known as my main reason for watching this batch.

Starting off, was Optimus always this... Mean? Like, don't get me wrong, I like an Optimus who has flaws and isn't just a saint, but I would swear he was nicer in S1. I mean, he yells at Megatron for not following his orders when Megatron didn't even do anything. He was literally just standing there, in the place Optimus left him. And in both this episode and the next, Optimus is constantly snapping at him? I kinda like the dynamic, but it feels OOC based on Optimus' character from S1. I don't remember following orders being this important to him, and I don't think we've seen anything that would lead to him putting more emphasis on it now?

I dunno. I spent those couple episodes being torn between, "I like this take on Optimus" and "pretty sure he wasn't like this before, though".

Anyway! Prowl.

I generally liked Prowl. I wish he'd been a little more socially awkward, but overall, he's almost exactly what I would have hoped for: brusque and rude when you first meet him, and rather blunt in his speech, but fundamentally a good person, and pretty okay when you get to know him. Also, he's a flying car, which is awesome. He gets to join Tracks in the cool bots club.

Was really hoping he and Optimus would have a more antagonistic relationship, though, for exactly the reason Megatron said: Optimus needs someone to question him, and he needs to listen. And Prowl does question Optimus on a couple things, but it doesn't matter because he decides Optimus was right in the end. And that's the biggest issue I have with him, because he adjusts to the status quo way too quickly. Mistrust of Megatron? Gone. Concerns about relying on human children in life-or-death situations? Gone. Four episodes and the one reasonable Autobot is already drunk on the Kool-Aid.

Like. He's right about the kids. These ancient war veterans rely way too much on literal children. Sure, they have special powers that make them uniquely qualified to solve the kind of problems that keep cropping up, but the correct response isn't, "I guess you were right, child soldiers are fine in this context". The correct response is "Who the fuck put this kind of responsibility on children." Prowl was right and I am so mad that he just shrugs and accepts it in the end.

And yes, I know this is a kids' show, and that kids' shows like to have kid characters doing cool things. But "these kids are the only ones who can do what needs to be done" and "these kids shouldn't have to be in that position" are storylines that can coexist. You can put them in a position where they're forced to take on too much responsibility while acknowledging that it's a pretty messed up situation. But no, Quintus was a good person, so obviously there's nothing wrong with him choosing a pair of kids for whatever!

Moving on.

I don't remember how the Hate Plague was handled originally, but as far as EarthSpark's handling goes, I have. Issues. The biggest of them being that this is an actual disease with cells you can study under a microscope, so how in the world does contact with an infected bot lead to instant and guaranteed symptomatic infection? And why is it defeated by cold water of all things? The instant transmission would make more sense if it was some sort of energetic virus or something, but the old "spray them in the face with water to snap them out of it" trope? Really?

Loved the thing with Izzy, though. I hated every scene she was in and was surprised she didn't end up being evil in her debut episode, so it was a massive relief that she ended up being evil and we don't have to see her ever again. Technically we could see her again because she's in Autobot custody and stuff, but whatever, I never want to see her again.

The Quintessons were disappointing. Again, I don't know if there will even be any more episodes, so maybe the writers had to rush to wrap up the storyline, but considering they were being foreshadowed all the way back at the end of S1, the payoff was just. So boring. As usual, everything revolves around those stupid cybersleeves, and I'm beginning to miss the days of TFP when almost every episode after S1 was a scavenger hunt.

Speaking of TFP, that Starscream? That was late TFP Starscream. That was not the Starscream we met in ES S1. Considering he's been completely isolated with no apparent access to fuel and no company except a couple of dead bodies for weeks or months, it's completely understandable that he's not doing well, but they really threw away everything that made this Starscream stand out, didn't they?

I have nothing to say about the Chaos Terrans. They're alive again, yay. Please tell me the magic resurrection key is gone now, because nothing makes me stop caring like the ability to just restore the dead on a whim.

Overall thoughts. I don't know if this batch was actually better than the last batch, or if it just felt that way because my standards were lower. But as far as enjoyment, I honestly like S2a better. I unironically liked the body swap episode, I perked up every time Starscream was onscreen (until the last 20 minutes), and I was at least interested in what was going on, even if I was mentally yelling at the characters half the time. But watching these episodes, I was bored. If Prowl hadn't been a steady presence after his introduction, I don't know if I would even have finished the episodes, because I just didn't care. The Hate Plague was laughably simple to cure, the Quintessons showed up just to blow up, and things were just happening to the characters instead of because of them. Aside from one or two episodes, there were no plotlines initiated by the characters.

EarthSpark has truly lost its spark.

[vioartemis]

I love her so much... (part 2 [au])

(Jenna Ortega x fem! reader)

Summary: What if Jenna had followed you that night, and tried to hold you back? Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 2 [au] Warnings: angst (just a little bit I swear) (English isn't my first language, I'm sorry if there are mistakes or if something doesn't make sense TvT)

Emma waited until your sobs stopped to take a step back and lead you to her car. Your eyes were red and puffy from crying that much.

"Where are we going...?"

"To my apartment. I'm not letting you alone after this"

"Y/n, wait...!"

Jenna's voice made you freeze just as you were about to get in Emma's car. You turned around slowly, trying to hold back your tears.

"I'm sorry...! I'm so sorry, for everything! I love you more than anything...I'm sorry I've been neglecting you lately... work had been overwhelming for everyone, and Percy asked me to help him- I'm not trying to find myself excuses...! I- I should have talked to you about it instead of keeping it all to myself... I'm sorry Y/n..."

She seemed genuinely sorry. You wanted to give ger a second chance, you really did. But the little voice in your head was telling you that she might hurt you again.

Taking your silence as a negative reaction, she started to walk away. Your heart ached at the sight, and you found yourself taking a step forward, almost instinctively.

"Go." Emma told you "Follow her"

You look at your friend and nodded.

"Thank you. For everything" you said with a grateful smile, before running after the brunette

"Jenna!"

She froze, not certain she really heard you call her, and turned around hesitantly, eyes full of hope when you stopped in front of her.

"I... I don't want it to stop... us, I mean"

"Are you.... are you giving me a second chance...? Y-you still love me, even after what I did...?"

"Of course I still love you..." you reassured her "Now let's go home, hm...?"

"Wait I- here..." she started, handing you the box you gave her earlier "I don't deserve it..."

"Jenna-"

"No, Y/n... I- I've been such a bad girlfriend, I don't deserve any gift... But I promise I'll get better, to be worth your love..."

You stayed silent for a second, before nodding and taking the box. Your fingers brushed over hers.

"We can go now" she said quietly

You nodded again, and you both walked back to your shared apartment.

Once you got there, you got ready to go to bed. You had put on your pajamas, and slipped under the covers, soon followed by Jenna. She stayed on her side of the bed, not sure you would want her close.

That caused your lips to curl up slightly, touched by her thoughtfulness, and you moved closer to her, snuggling in her arms. It was the first time in weeks that you really slept together, in each other's arms.

It had been so long that you melted in her embrace. Her arms felt so nice around you, her perfume invading your nostrils felt so right, and so did her whole body pressed against yours.

It didn't take you long to fall asleep, a smile on your face.

At the sight of your sleeping figure, Jenna felt a wave of relief wash over her; she was afraid she'd never get to see you like that again.

"I missed you, I'm sorry..." she whispered, placing a soft kiss on your forehead "I love you..."

<><><><> ♡ <><><><>

A few months had passed since that night, and everything was back to normal. Your relationship with Jenna was doing better; she was here - as much as her job allowed her - and she was doing her best to show you how much she loved you, how much she cared for you.

Tonight, you were supposed to have dinner together at 8. It was now 11, and she was still not here. You had texted her, called her, but didn't get any answer.

Your stomach flipped at the thought of things turning out like it did months ago. You couldn't do it again.

You decided to wait for her, determined to talk to her, and when she finally arrived - around 1am - you sat up in your shared bed. You waited for her to enter the room; she seemed surprised to see you were still awake.

"I thought we would spend the night together..." you said "What happened?"

"... Nothing" she replied, shaking her head

"No, it's not nothing. I called you, I texted you... you're doing it again, Jenna..."

The look in your eyes made her realize she fucked up again. Her worst fear was becoming real, again.

"I- it's just..." she sighed "I'm a bit overwhelmed... with work, with the responsibilities, with Percy..."

At the sight of tears forming in her eyes, you took her hand in yours.

"I'm here for you, you can vent if you need to..." you gave her hand a reassuring squeeze

"It's just... there always are unexpected problems at work, we're under a lot of pressure lately, more than usually... and I need to come up with important things for next week, and I still don't have anything... and Percy's always asking me for help for stupid things...! And even if I want to say no, he always manages to convince me, and I don't even notice it! I'm so tired, Y/n..."

You pulled her in for a warm, comforting hug, rubbing her back gently.

"It's gonna be okay... I'm here, I'll do my best to help you with that... You should have talked to me about it..."

"I'm sorry I- I didn't want to bother you with that..."

"You never bother me Jenna, I-"

You got cut off by your girlfriend's phone suddenly buzzing. She gave you an apologetic look as she picked up.

"Hello? ... ... What? No listen Percy, I- ... ..."

She looked up at you, biting her nails nervously. The concern in your eyes, as well as the warmth of your hand on hers, and your love for her gave her the courage she needed.

"No, stop. I'm not available right now. ... ... It's 1 in the morning, Percy. I'm not at your disposal, nor your personal helper. ... ... Find someone else to help you. Bye."

She hung up with a sigh, and when her gaze met yours again, your eyes were full of pride, love, and relief. You were proud she was able to stand up for herself, to stop getting 'controlled' by him. And you didn't miss the opportunity to let her know that.

"I'm sorry I wasn't able to do it sooner... I- I'm sorry I almost fucked everything up between us because of that... But I won't make the mistake again. From now on, I'll try not to keep everything for myself. I- I don't want to lose you. I don't see my life without you..."

You felt you heart flutter at her words. Hearing her say that made you so happy... so happy, and so relieved.

The few doubts that had popped in your head earlier had completely disappeared now. You were sure you could trust her not to hurt you anymore.

You reached in your bedside table for the box you had given her on your anniversary and handed it to her again. She gave you a questioning look, visibly confused.

"When you gave it back to me, you said you didn't deserve it. Well, I think you deserve it now" you said gently, as she took the box "I've been wanting to give it to you for a little while, actually..."

Her eyes were shining when she looked at you after opening the box, and she had a big smile on her face.

"Do you like it?"

"I love it! I- it's so beautiful...!" she threw her arms around your neck and pulled you in for a tight hug "Thank you... Thank you so much!" she pulled away to give you a sweet smile "Can you help me putting it on?"

"Of course!"

You carefully took the necklace out of the box and waited for her to turn around, before moving her hair to the side. You were quick to attach the jewelry around her neck, and placed a gentle kiss on her soft skin once you were finished.

"Here you go, my love"

<><><><> ♡ <><><><>

Almost a year and a half later, you found yourself in a quite familiar position: crying in Emma's arms.

"It's okay... just- try to breathe, please"

"I- I'm just... I'm so..."

"I know, I know. Everything's gonna be okay"

You pulled away at her words, taking a deep breath and wiping your tears carefully.

"Yeah, you're right... Everything's gonna be perfectly fine"

"That's what I want to hear!"

Suddenly, the door of the room opened, revealing a nervous Hunter.

"What are you doing?" he yelled-whispered "We're waiting for you...!"

"She's ready, don't panic!" Emma replied, before turning to you "Just breathe, and it will be fine, okay?"

You nodded, and she gave you a brief hug, before exiting the room to join the others, leaving you with Hunter.

"Are you ready?" he asked gently, offering you his arm

"Y-yeah, I think..."

You both made your way to the main room and waited behind the door. When the music started, you took a deep breath.

All eyes were on you walking down the aisle, arm hooked under Hunter's. Yours, however, were glued to the gorgeous brunette ahead of you: your soon to be wife, Jenna Ortega.

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