#i wrote an earnest answer

[time-is-restored]

i have literally nowhere else to put this i apologise for the spam. the absolute best thing to come out of s3 trent is without a doubt the fucking earnestness... like in s1-2 he always came across as a very self-assured kind of guy, who knew how he came off (ie: intimidating) and enjoyed it. but seeing that paired with him being silly + completely relaxing in certain company??? pulling ridiculous faces at vodka + scrunching up his nose when he smiles @ colin + making the most ABSURD 'i really wanna say something right now but i feel like im interrupting' noises ive ever heard in my fucking LIFE??? its like. he is cool as shit and he is self assured AND he can make dumb fucking sherlock holmes jokes and dance ridiculously. its like!!!! he's lame but he's also not bc he's exactly as confident in being lame as he is being cool. do u see the vision. he has killed the part of him that cringes!!!! its just.. that unshakeable self confidence that u see in his fucking swaggers into frame includes all of himself + his different moods and eccentricities and that's just so based to me idk. unironically live ur best life wear the loudest combination of prints and patterns and primary colours uve ever seen in ur life while espousing the virtues of extended museum hours!!! contain multitudes! get silly with it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[reidrum]

castling | s.r.

A/N: another deeply self indulgent hurt comfort angst who’s surprised…i wrote this kinda fast so if it’s messy and cheesy sorry :/

cw: gn!reader (pls lmk if i missed something that doesn’t make it gn), hurt comfort, mentions of depression, ambiguous sadness, trivialization of chess, inaccurate chess jargon?, spencer is a darling

summary: in which reader finds it hard to open up and communicate their feelings with spencer, so he comes up with an idea to help

wc: 1.4k

not proofread sry

reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! <3

_______________________________________________

It started during a game of chess, when Spencer was showing you different special moves.

“It’s called castling, the idea is that you move the king two spaces towards the rook and then switch their places to allow more protection for your king than if it was in the center.”

“Why would you want to move the king towards the outside, that seems counterintuitive.”

“Smart girl, that’s a good question,” he says fondly, “It’s kind of a last ditch effort in a sense, the rook is essentially expendable but the castling moves the king out of the line from key pieces like the other king and queen.”

“So, it’s like a rescue mission.”

He smiles, “Like a rescue mission.”

You smile back and continue with your next move. Spencer watches you in earnest as you deliberate the best plan of attack, even though he knows he’s gonna let you win by the end anyway.

“How was your day today?” He watches your demeanor change quickly, your shoulders sagging slightly and your eyebrows furrowing. He knew the answer, he’s a great observant and even more so when it comes to you.

“It was…fine.”

“Just fine?” he challenges, moving his bishop.

You nod and move your knight. You’re waiting for him to move his next piece when you realize he’s not looking at the board anymore.

Looking up you see hazel eyes staring right back at you, “Sweetheart,”

“Spencer, don’t.”

He sighs, “You know,” he moves his pawn, “this isn't the first time that you’ve had a hard time communicating with me how you feel.”

A deep sigh leaves you now, it had always been a struggle for you to show emotion so openly to those you love, mainly Spencer. You just didn’t want to worry him with the throes of your mind, and while Spencer appreciated the sentiment he reminded you repeatedly that he’s there for you through it all and just really wants you to take advantage of that.

“I just want to help you, angel.” he says softly, “I can’t do that if you don’t let me in. You don’t even have to tell me what’s wrong, just that something is wrong.”

Tears well up in your eyes, “I know Spence. I—It’s just, saying out loud that I’m—whatever—makes it real. A—And then you get so worried and I get more anxious—“

“Hey. It’s my job to worry about you. Because I love you,” he places his hands on yours, “But, I was thinking what if we had a code word or something, just a single word, and you can say it or text me or anything and I’ll know that you’re not feeling well.”

Your face softens at his proposal. The irony you face is that your brain has convinced you healing can be done alone, that if you’re the one who fucked up the road you should be the one to repair it. While you know logically healing is more effective when you have support, it doesn’t make it any easier for you to accept the help you need, that Spencer feels you deserve.

“I think…that’s a good idea.”

“Yeah?” he replies, “Do you want to pick the word?”

You think about it for a few minutes. You don’t want to do a silly word like banana or chicken, you want something that maybe doesn’t sound serious but would still convey the intent of the code word.

“Does castling work?” you offer softly.

Spencer’s face morphs into something you can’t quite decipher, but to him it’s a mix of adoration, love, and pure empathy for you. He’s just so touched by the fact you want to use that word, after just discussing the significance of that move. It’s an honor that you trust him enough to be your protecting rook.

“Yeah, that’s perfect angel.”

You give a small nod, “Check.”

___

You knew he wouldn’t judge you, that’s the whole reason you came up with this system. It felt like an emergency contact, which it was, but in a “How bad is too bad before I call?” type of way.

Laid down in your bed, you stared at the glow of your phone with your messages with Spencer open. Your thumbs hovered over the keyboard, daring you to make a move.

Nothing even really happened today, it was just one of those periods where you were in a funk. The voices that lingered in your brain fed you disguised truths and cynicism, and it was hard to feel afloat with support when you couldn’t even tell what was pulling you down.

It didn’t matter though, your tear stained cheeks and puffy red eyes amongst the disarray of your room which satirically matched the chaos in your mind were proof enough that maybe, you weren’t okay.

In this moment it would be stupidly easy to ignore it all and wallow in your own sorrow—Spencer was away on a case and you didn’t know when he was coming back.

So in a leap of faith, or perhaps a lapse in judgment, your thumbs twiddle a message out and press send.

castling

You toss your phone aside and try to avoid thinking about it. He’s probably busy, they’re on a case so he’s probably drawing out the geographical maps or maybe he’s on a raid or maybe he’s—DING.

Cautiously grabbing your phone, you slide the notification.

I’m on the plane, going to land in about an hour or so. I need to make one stop and then I’ll come straight to you, okay?

You stare through the blurriness of your eyes caused by your tears, the words blending together. Before the guilt of texting him and making him aware of your depressed state sinks in, another text comes through.

I love you. See you soon, angel.

Another choked sob releases from your throat, and you put the phone down before any more emotions try to infiltrate you. At some point you end up falling asleep on the bed, your body curled in on itself from the lack of warmth a nice blanket or Spencer could’ve provided.

You’re only stirred awake when you feel a soothing sensation on your head, long nimble yet intentional fingers sifting through your hair. You attempt to open your eyes through the thin crust it’s formed from crying so much, and you’re squinting for the first few moments of vision before registering the human in front of you.

“Hi honey.” Spencer whispers softly as you come to.

“Spence…when did you…”

“Just a couple minutes ago,” the hand in your hair comes to rest on your jaw, “How are you feeling?”

Tired eyes finally meet his brown ones and find nothing but reassurance and concern.

Oh. You’ve worried him now.

The last string of resolve snaps as your face crumbles in and you mutter out apologies mixed in with sniffles and sobs. Spencer moves from his knelt position in front of you to slide in next to you on the bed. He gingerly gathers you in his arms and tucks you into his side whispering it’s okay and you’re safe and i’m here.

After a few long minutes your breathing evens out. “You came.” you sniffled.

He pulls back to look at you with watered eyes, “You called. I’m so proud of you.”

You mumble under your breath, “I didn’t even do anything.”

Spencer shakes his head and tucks you right back in place, feeling the floppy fringe of his hair tickling your forehead, “I know a version of you that would’ve held it all in by yourself. Thank you for letting me be here for you.”

You turn your head into his chest further, letting the hot tears and snot stain his nice button up. His hands rub trails up and down your back, his head bent down to your ear whispering sweet nothings to you. With Spencer delicately taking your defenses down maybe you can finally admit to yourself that you were just too soft for all of it.

“Where did you have to stop by?” you wonder.

He smiles and readjusts you against his body, “I picked up Thai food,” “And some candy, sour of course. And there may be a Snoopy stuffie as well because it reminded me of you.”

You feel a different weight on your heart, not one that’s constricting but one that’s embracing, comforting. In a life where you’ve rarely felt taken care of, or even being worthy of that care, you know with certainty that Spencer would never let you go a day without knowing how much love and care you deserve.

[sidekick-hero]

I can't stop thinking of Eddie as Cyrano de Bergerac.

He's in the drama club, he's known for his way with words, his ability to bring whole worlds to life with them. Few people know that he also writes poetry, poems about love and loss, society and justice, whatever comes to his mind. Many of them are about a mysterious person with gold-flecked eyes and autumn hair, constellations on his skin, and the sun in his heart.

Eddie guards his notebook full of poems like a dragon guards his hoard of gold. And yet.

And yet Susie Bowers finds it where it fell out of his pocket when that asshole Tommy Hagan pushed him against the lockers. She reads it and realizes how devastatingly beautiful Eddie's words are.

It makes her think… think about her crush on Steve Harrington, the fallen king who is still the most eligible bachelor at Hawkins High. Especially since he refuses to just take girls home to fuck them. No, he wants to date. He wants to fall in love. It's catnip for everyone, but at the same time so frustrating because no girl has managed to catch his eye yet.

Maybe this little notebook is her ticket to a relationship with Steve Harrington.

She approaches Eddie and shows him the notebook, pulling it out of his reach as he attempts to grab it. She offers him a deal: she won't spread copies of all his cute little writings all over the school, exposing his deepest secrets for everyone to see and ridicule. In exchange, Eddie will help her sweet-talk Steve Harrington.

Eddie agrees and writes love letters to the boy he's been in love with ever since he found him drunk and depressed on the side of the road after his girlfriend dumped him. He had taken him home, listened to him ramble on about what he had done wrong, why no one would want to love him, and then put Steve to bed and watched him sleep until morning to make sure he was okay.

He left before Steve woke up, and the next time they saw each other at school, Steve didn't even look at him. It had broken his heart and inspired most of his poems, because nothing inspires like heartbreak.

And now Eddie can tell Steve all the things he thinks and feels about him - just to make it seem like it's written by Susie.

It seems to work, because Steve replies to her letters. His replies are simpler, less lyrical, but just as earnest. His words are sweet, and he's funny and thoughtful.

He's everything Eddie knew he was going to be. And Susie couldn't care less, she just wants to go out with him, have him take her home, have everyone know that she's Steve Harrington's girlfriend.

They go out. After a dozen letters, he gives in and asks her out.

Eddie cries himself to sleep that night.

Someone knocks on his bedroom window. Confused and a bit nervous, because he doesn't have only friends in this town, far from it, he goes to open it.

And finds Steve Harrington standing right outside his window.

"What -"

"Did you mean them?" Steve asks and he can't tell from his tone what he's thinking.

"What?"

"Your letters, did you mean what you wrote or did you just write down what you thought I wanted to hear so I'd go out with Susie?"

His tone doesn't really change, but Eddie can see his eyes shining in the dim light coming from his bedroom. He looks upset, and Eddie wants to fix it, but he doesn't know what answer would do that.

So he chooses the truth. "Yes. I meant every single word I wrote in those letters."

"Then why didn't you send them under your own name?" When did Steve get so close? And why is the window sill digging into his stomach?

At Steve's question, Eddie can't help but laugh bitterly. "Did you look at me, Steve? I'm the town freak! A fuckup. Trailer trash. A small-time drug dealer who failed his senior year. Why would anybody - why would you want to get love letters from me?"

Steve nods, not saying a word as he turns and walks away. And okay, he deserves it, he guesses. Hanging his head in defeat, he shuffles away from the window and face plants on his bed, letting fresh tears fall from his eyes.

Until there's another knock, this time at his front door.

He's out of bed in record time, almost breaking his neck in his haste to get to the door. It can't be - it's impossible that this is -

Steve is standing on his front porch, looking devastatingly handsome in his light-washed Levi's and red sweater. His date outfit.

He walks up to him before Eddie can say anything and cups his cheek.

"I've been looking at you, Eddie. All I've done since the night you brought me home and listened to me and took care of me, I've been looking at you. Looking and waiting. Hoping. Wanting you to give me a sign, any sign, that it wasn't just chivalry that made you do this, but the fact that you cared. About me. But you never did."

"Steve," Eddie whispers, but Steve isn't finished.

"And then I get these letters, and all the words, they sound like you. I couldn't be sure, not until I read the line, 'You deserve someone who wants to love you, all of you, the good and the bad and everything in between. I want to be that person. I want to love you.' You're the only one I've ever said that to. I knew it had to be you."

"But why? Why go out with Susie?"

"Because I had to be absolutely sure that it wasn't Susie. And after ten minutes with her, I was. I drove around until I couldn't… I had to talk to you. To see if you mean it. If you want to love me."

Eddie kisses him.

There's nothing else on his mind but the need to finally kiss the boy he's been in love with for almost a year.

Steve kisses him back, soft, tender, then deeper, dirtier.

When they pull apart, both gasping, Eddie leans in closer because his next words are meant for him and Steve and no one else.

"I want to love you long after my body crumbles to dust and my soul finds yours in the afterlife. I want to love you as the ocean does the moon, forever bound, forever following its call, until the end of time."

[yayakoishii]

Hunger | Sanji x Reader

Sanji x Reader; Fluff...?

No pronouns used but written with a fem reader in mind. Reader is referred to as a woman or lady at times, but nothing else so you can ignore it if you want!

wc: 2.2k

a/n: super super self indulgent, I wrote this in an hour because I was possessed by this sudden overwhelming love for Sanji. honestly, this fic started with a different goal that where it ended but oh well. maybe I'll write another one to fully convey what I started here. this is my first time writing for OP and Sanji so forgive any mistakes and oocness! enjoyyy!!

also available on ao3!

Sanji didn't know what to think of you.

At first, he had treated you like the other ladies on board and expected you to treat him the same way they did. Except you were different. In your actions, in your words, in your whole being– there was a different kind of softness, warmth and intensity.

It started with you just giving him warm smiles and soft thank yous whenever he brought out a new drink or dish for them to enjoy. The way you always maintained eye contact while doing it left him feeling a little stunned for some reason, and it almost always ended up with him fainting from the loss of blood. And then the way you would be worried over it, even though everyone else just ignored it once he was under Chopper's hands.

You stayed there until he was okay enough to go back to the kitchen. It was just a little thing, but it seemed to squeeze his heart in a painful way.

It was fine with just that, until you started tip-toeing around his territory – the kitchen. He could see you peeking through the door at times, wondering if you wanted something to eat or drink but feeling shy when it came to actually calling you out for it. It was weird– he was being weird around you, but it wasn't his fault. There was something about your ease and quiet around him that made his heart jackhammer in his chest like it was trying to beat his entire life's worth.

So he stayed quiet, pretending not to notice, until you stepped in.

And then he couldn't ignore it anymore.

You sat at the table, just giving him a small smile and nothing else. You didn't say a single word and he couldn't stop himself anymore.

"Did you want something, (y/n)-chan?" He asked gently, just in case you were feeling shy to ask for whatever it was you wanted to eat. But you just shook your head at his words, resting your chin on the backrest of the chair.

"Not really, Sanji-kun," you replied, eyes fixated on his hands, now that he finally realised it. You were looking at the food he was cooking. "I just wanted to watch you cook. Is that okay?"

The blonde chef stood there for a few seconds, stunned silent. Whatever he had been expecting, it wasn't that. Why would you want to watch him cook? That would be a waste of your time! But before he could say as such to you, he was stopped by the earnest look in your eyes.

"I promise I won't disturb you!" You said quietly, eyes gleaming with your eagerness. He couldn't say no after that.

"Of course not, sweetheart," he finally replied, flicking his eyes downward so he doesn't keep staring at you. The face you had on was too innocent and bright, and his heart was doing that painful squeeze thingy again. "You could never disturb me."

Wrong. Your presence was very disturbing. In a good way, of course. In a way that made his insides feel like they are convoluting and rearranging themselves. In a way that made his chest feel tight and warm.

Perhaps he should have regretted saying that to you. Because you took it as a blanket permission to watch him cook everyday. You would walk in at random times after breakfast, sometimes with a book where you wrote while he cooked or empty handed like always.

And then you started talking to him.

Asking him curious little questions about the food he was cooking at first. And he would answer them as simply as he could, not wanting to confuse you. Sometimes, he saw you noting things down and wondered if you're learning to cook. But it didn't seem like that, just you and your weird fascination with watching him cook. That was fine. (That was not fine. It made him self-conscious because suddenly, he was wondering if he looked like a mess when he was cooking, something he had never doubted before.)

Then your questions turned to just telling him about random things that happened outside while he worked, or something you read in a book, or a story from your past. You talked to him like you would to any other person, but somehow, in the confines of the kitchen where he usually worked by his lonesome, it all felt doubly intimate and personal. Like you were whispering secrets straight into his ear, seeping into the crevices of his heart one drop at a time.

Somewhere along the line, he realised that he didn't feel that heart pounding feeling around any of the other women. He calmed down around them a little, and was gifted with Nami's concerned yet puzzled looks and Robin's analytical one. He played it off by avoiding the topic smoothly whenever they asked, but even they weren't blind to when this change had started to happen.

You, on the other hand, were oblivious to it. Like always, you stepped into the kitchen with more questions, this time about him, about his interests, and anything he wanted to talk about.

"...if I could go there," he paused when he realised that he had been going on and on about the All Blue for the past ten minutes while he was fluttering around the kitchen, without even seeing if you were listening. His head whipped up, cheeks red with embarrassment, only to find you looking at him intently with wide interested eyes.

And somehow, the usual squeezing feeling in his heart reversed. Now it felt like someone had cut his chest open and left its contents exposed for you to gently pick up and caress in your soft hands.

"Sorry, I rambled there for a bit," his mouth felt dry suddenly. He paused in his cooking to grab himself a glass of water.

"Why are you apologising?" You said cheerfully, scribbling something into your book as usual. "I asked you about it, Sanji-kun!"

"Still," he laughed nervously, wondering if you secretly thought he talked too much. Women liked it better when the man listened to them, right? "You probably didn't want to hear all of… that."

Your brows furrowed and you looked at him with a frown. "Why not?"

Sanji drew the glass away from his lips at your question, feeling a little lost. Did that mean you wanted to listen to him…?

"Isn't it boring for you?" He tried, readying himself to hear you affirm his statement.

"It's not boring at all," you said, shaking your pen in his direction. "You are obviously interested in it. You're passionate about it, like you're about your food, and I think that's wonderful. Hearing someone talk passionately about what they love can never be boring for me. It's like an open window into their hearts."

Sanji's heart jumped in its place at that line, wondering when was the last time someone had tried to look into his heart. He was always the one chasing after the ladies, ready to give his heart but never finding anyone who wanted it. And now you were here, wanting to know what was in his heart, wanting to know him. But what if he wasn't the only one? What if he was deluding himself into thinking that he was special to you?

"Did you ask the others about their dreams too?" He asked, hoping it came off as casually as he had wanted it to. You leaned back in the chair, nodding with a huge smile, not realising the way his heart sank at that.

"Of course I did," you said proudly, holding the book close to your chest. "Luffy gave me a place on this ship even though I had nothing to offer to the crew, just because I had nowhere else and no one else to go to. So I wanted to do something for him, and for you guys. Sanji-kun, can you keep a secret?"

"Anything for you, my love," he said without missing a beat, willing his feelings to stay beneath the surface as always. He didn't notice the way your cheeks pinked at the term, too distracted by his own thoughts.

"I'm trying to write down and compile all of your adventures till now," you stage whispered. That surprised him, and he looked at you, noticing the ink smudges on your fingers that curled around the book you had in your hands. He had noticed the smudges and marks increase over time, but he hadn't known what you were doing until now. "When Luffy becomes the King of Pirates, I want to share these adventures with the world. I want them to know the real people behind it all, not some made-up tyrannical version the Marines paint you as. I know firsthand just how kind and thoughtful every person on this ship is, and I am trying to record it in my own way."

"That's…" Sanji was speechless again. Somehow, you always managed to reduce him to that state. An unpleasant smell invaded his nostrils and he looked down, noticing that he had taken his eyes off the food for too long.

"The food!" You exclaimed, standing up from the chair and hurrying over, your book forgotten behind.

"Stay back, (y/n)-chan!" Sanji warned, not wanting you to accidentally get hurt from the hot pot. You hovered at a distance, clearly wanting to help but also not wanting to create more trouble by mistake. With deft hands, he cleared up everything, transferring the food to a different pot and taking care of the burnt one. "There we go. No need to worry, sweetheart, go sit down."

"I'm sorry," you mumbled. Sanji looked up, confused at the apology.

"What are you apologising for, (y/n)-chan?" He asked kindly, walking over to you. He stood a foot away, hesitant to touch but wanting to comfort you. How would you take it if he touched you? Would you be uncomfortable and push him away? He didn't want that. He never wanted you to feel uncomfortable or sad. Or like you had done anything wrong, when you clearly hadn't.

"I distracted you," you said guiltily, looking up at him with glossy eyes. "I promised I wouldn't."

"Don't be silly, sweetheart," he couldn't hold himself back. His left hand cupped your cheek, right one bringing his handkerchief out with a flourish to wipe away the tears welling up in your eyes. "It's not your fault. I was thinking too much, and I made a mistake."

You continued to stare up at him as he wiped the last of the tears and let go of your cheeks, hoping he hadn't crossed any boundaries.

"Sanji-kun…" Your voice was broken and he looked at you in concern. Had he done something wrong? Said something wrong? "It's unfair. It's so unfair!"

"What is, my love?" He asked, trying to figure out what you were talking about as your lips quivered. You were glaring down at the floor, clearly upset about something.

"You," you whispered. "You're unfair. Your existence is unfair. How can someone this perfect exist?"

And now, the usual hammering of his chest was replaced by his heart going stockstill, as if it was holding a breath too, at your simple words.

"The more I get to know you, the more I understand what a kind, loving and warm person you are," you rambled on, like a dam that's finally burst open. "I wanted to get to know you, more than anyone else onboard. So I lingered around, encouraged myself to talk to you. And then, every moment I spent with you just made me fall more and more in love with you. The way you fold your shirt up to your elbows, the look of concentration on your face when you're cooking, that soft look in your eyes when you're talking about food, the sheer strength in your legs when you're fighting, the immense love and respect you have for food. Every little thing about you just made me fall in love with you and I told myself to stay away, but you make it so hard to not keep coming back. I keep wanting to know more and more about you; it's like a hunger that is never satisfied no matter how much I feed it."

There was pindrop silence in the kitchen when you paused, realised what you had said and froze. Sanji's unlit cigarette fell from his lips as he stared at you, wondering if this was a wild self-torturous dream his brain had thought up to torment him with; except his brain could never imagine the way you were now flushed from head to toe, hiding your face behind widely spaced fingers. Your wide eyes peeked through the gaps, the look of utter mortification on your face visible to him even with the obstacles.

"I'm so sorr–"

He didn't let you finish. Sanji pulled you into a tight embrace, his long fingers finding purchase in the nape of your neck where your hair was. You gasped at the sudden action, heart hammering in tandem with his, suddenly realising in the close proximity that you were not the only one whose heart rate had spiked.

"I could ask you the same question, sweetheart," he wrenched himself away to stare you straight in the eyes. His hand reached back and up to hold your face again. You didn't miss the broken and vulnerable look in his eyes as he whispered the next few words, in a way like it was meant to be heard only by you.

"How can someone so perfect exist?"

[azulbestpeacock]

THANK YOU FOR THE TAG MY LOVE

1. three ships: also max brinly/laura kearney, yui hirasawa/azusa nakano, komi shouko/tadano hitohito

2. first ever ship: probably either pinkie pie/cheese sandwich or discord/fluttershy

3. last song: shinkiro by houshou marine and gawr gura

4. last film: puppy love

5. currently reading: the new jim crow: mass incarceration in the age of colorblindness by michelle alexander

6. currently watching: komi-san can't communicate

7. currently consuming: mountain dew voodew zero sugar

8. currently craving: dairy queen frosted sugar cookie blizzard

tag nine ppl - @xxgh0stxt33thxx @princehugo @moodlevoodle @agodsdamnednerd @clowncrumbs @bimyheel @the-magicalpotato @victorian-lad @infinitemacaroni

9 ppl to get to know better

aaaa okay thank you @cloudycaffeinatedcryptid for the tag 💜💜 I haven't done a tag game in A While so I kinda forgot they were still around lmao

1. three ships: max brinly/laura kearney, natsuki subaru/emilia, and akane kurashiki/junpei tenmyouji/carlos (for vastly different reasons than the other two), and now that I'm typing that gotta say I'm noticing a bit of a Theme there

2. first ever ship: I think it genuinely might have been danny fenton and sam manson from danny phantom

3. last song: idol by yoasobi. no I have not watched oshi no ko it's just a banger

4. last film: the fnaf movie 😔

5. currently reading: uhhh beyond The Fanfics I've been trying to reread the importance of being earnest. Emphasis on trying because I always find something else to do

6. currently watching: aimsey playing little nightmares <3<3 LN you will always be famous

7. currently consuming: nothing

8. currently craving: curry istg it's always curry

tag nine ppl - (sorry in advance if anyone doesn't want to 👍)

@sethopophobia @khattikeri @raspberrycherry @newra181 @ihateyukanda @daisysmartheart @having-a-harp-time @blu-roux @azulbestpeacock

[it-was-summer]

The Very First... Second... Third Night

A/N: Hey guys, happy fall!!! Fun fact about me, I love Season one reid so much it's not even funny. That's pookie!!!!! Anyways, enjoy this little fluffy cute thing I wrote in a romance-infused haze (I saw that photo of MGG in that pumpkin sweater at knott's berry farms and I needed Spencer in a Halloween way). MAYBE some porn coming soon idk man. Love you all!!-Em <3

Link to the Ao3: The Very First... Second... Third Night ->Link to the: Yee olde masterlist Tags: Can't remember if I use any female pronouns for reader, but warning just incase. Season one reid, MENTION OF JEID, SPENCELLE, AND bisexual Reid, Spencer reid being critical of himself, Spencer's POV for the most part, jello mentioned guys, Overstimulated Spencer Reid at a football game, mention of a cemetery, mention of Nosferatu (1922). Kind of proofread, yippie!!!

Genre: Fluffy meet cutes. Pairing: Season One! Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader.

Plot: Spencer runs into you twice before but only manages to get your name (and number) the third time.

Word Count: 3,863

First Meeting

Spencer can’t remember the last time this bookstore was so crowded. Personally, he tried to go on early Sunday mornings to avoid the crowds– if any– that came into the shop. Maybe he was being overdramatic. There couldn’t have been more than twenty people in the store with him. But it was still twenty too many. He softly apologizes to the elderly woman as he squeezes past her in the narrow nonfiction aisle. 

Most of the crowd seemed to be hovering around the fiction area, which was fine with him– the further away, the better. With his head turned to watch the small crowd bustle about the store, he didn’t notice the person standing just inches from him in the aisle. 

You stared at him with a confused expression for a second, thinking surely this man would move eventually. But the moment never came. He was tall with brown hair and long eyelashes. He had the fashion sense of a teacher– correction, teacher’s assistant. You clear your throat softly, hardcover clutched in hand as you watch the man’s head snap over to you, his cheeks flushing red. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t see you. Not that you’re hard to miss– I mean in a good way, you’re–” He closes his mouth and swallows hard, looking into your gentle eyes. “I’m sorry.” 

You would have felt a little agitated if he hadn’t seemed so earnest, but this man oozes social anxiety, and your heart takes pity on him. Your lips move to a slow smile, and you whisper a sweet, “That’s alright,” 

Spencer’s sure he’s never seen kinder eyes, “It’s just so busy today. I was looking at the crowd,” 

Your head turns at that, allowing Spencer to take in your features. A light sweater to accommodate the cool air this early-October morning, some Halloween earrings that make Spencer smile, and stunning eyes. “Book signing pop-up, it’ll be crazy until three. At least that's what the stock girl told me.” You’re soft-spoken, too. Spencer can appreciate that.

He nods slightly, looking down at the hardcover in your hand and then over at the crowd again, “Are you not here for the book signing?” 

“Afraid not,” You sigh as you hold up a historical fiction novel, “Me and my historical fiction novel were going to take a gander at some biographies.” 

He can’t help his peaked interest as he licks his lips, “Regarding?” He’s a fan of history himself and is always happy to interact with someone who also shares a love for it. He feels slightly less anxious talking about something he knows.

You twist your lips to the side like you’re silently debating whether or not you should tell him. You look away for a second, your eyes scanning the bookshelves on either side of you. “Salem Witch Trials.” You answer him bluntly. 

Spencer nods like he understands precisely what you mean, “Ah, the more humane witch trials.” It's a funny joke… to him, at least. 

But then your lips twitch upwards as you let out a quiet chuckle, “No burning for us, just rope and intense torture.” 

He feels electric, which is stupid because he shouldn’t feel excited over something as simple as someone joking with him, but he does. He’s been working on it upon Derek’s sarcastic request, and he can’t help but wonder if it is finally paying off now. 

Spencer feels the overwhelming urge to partake in what Garcia describes as ‘info-dumping ,’ but he bites his tongue as he settles on a simple question, “How come?” 

You shrug slightly as you look up at him. The bookstore light keeps making his eyes a soft amber, and you’re having a hard time looking away now. “Halloween tradition.” You watch his eyebrow furrow, raising a hand to explain yourself quickly. “My best friend and I each pick a historical event that is relatively macabre, and then we base our costumes around it and throw a party with a related theme. It’s... It’s stupid.” You say with a smile and a wave of your hand dismissively. 

Meanwhile, Spencer’s too busy thinking you’re the most extraordinary girl he’s ever interacted with. For the first time in his life, he’s desperate for an invite to a stranger’s party—a pretty stranger who has yet to tell him her name. 

“That’s not-” 

A woman’s voice cuts him off as she barrels down the aisle with a grin, “There you are, oh…” Her blue eyes look Spencer up and down carefully, studying him. “Hello, there.” She’s direct and forward and speaks in a tone that tells Spencer to leave you the hell alone. 

He nods curtly, waving slightly at your friend. You sigh out with mock annoyance as you say, “He’s a friendly, put your gun away.” 

“I don’t believe in guns.” 

“They’re very real, trust me.” Is your sarcastic reply before looking at Spencer again. “Thanks for the company. I’ll see you around.” And just like that… you’re gone. 

Second Meeting

Spencer is sure he’ll never see you again, but here he is a week later, still thinking about you on a case. Or rather, he’s thinking about every woman ever and that he’ll never have a chance with any of them… ever. He’s feeling rather lonely, or maybe his self-esteem is taking a certain nose-dive this fine San Diego day. 

It’s not because it’s his birthday. He doesn’t hate his birthday like Elle hates hers– that’s what she told him once—the day started off great: the trick candles, the big birthday hat, his embarrassing crush on JJ. And now, they’re discussing the case, a routine he enjoys. 

His mind, always full of helpful information, quickly recognized the ballad from the 17th century– betwixt death and a lady. After his comment regarding what people could find by typing the word ‘death’ in the search engine, Derek’s laughing, “Reid, no wonder you can’t get a date.”

It sticks on him; he would love to let it slide off his back, but he’s not familiar with that kind of territory– dating, that is– so it hits a nerve. A nerve that Spencer didn’t know was so exposed. The worst part is that Derek’s not wrong. Spencer can’t seem to get a date. Not with the pretty intellectual at the bookstore, JJ, or Elle– though that last one feels strange to admit to himself. 

He’s too awkward, speaks too fast, and, according to Gideon, needs to relax more. He’s sure… he’s cute, actually, he doesn’t know if he is. All he knows is that his mind is brilliant, his skills involving women… not so much. 

He’s silently mulling it over as he approaches one of the bulletin boards, muttering lines of the ballad softly when JJ walks up beside him, “Creepy, huh?” Her voice makes him look at her, hesitating as he replies. 

“Actually, uh, conversations between death and his victims was a fairly popular literary and artistic theme throughout the Renaissance.” He’s staring at the bulletin for a second before glancing her away, and his cheeks feel hot when he sees the way JJ is looking at him– disinterest. “But, yeah, creepy.” 

He feels like a teenager, and all those years spent in college and not high school are coming back to bite him. He liked girls and boys, too. He should be better at this, he has an IQ of 187 and five degrees to prove it. Spencer walks away from the conversation quickly, his feet carrying him away from the embarrassing moment as quickly as possible. He needs to focus on the case. 

And focus he does. He’s happy to analyze the meaning of the ballads at the crime scenes, his anxiety calming as he settles into the sweet caress of facts. Feelings, beauty, and tastes were all subjective. The objective was his comfort zone.

So it stands to reason that he feels lighter after conversing with Gideon about why the UnSub would start to use the ballad if it wasn’t a part of his signature. However, after the team delivers the profile, his lightness returns to his ruminating thoughts surrounding his lack of social skills. 

The more he thinks about it, the more he feels the icy breath of repressed memories breathing down his neck. A jammed locker, missing gym clothes, a dark bathroom bolted shut. As the team waits for the UnSub’s suspected phone call to the tip line, he reaches for his bag to pull out a Rubix cube. 

His fingers quickly twist and turn it aimlessly until he feels like it’s mixed around enough for him to solve it again. Elle is sitting in a desk chair in front of him as he solves it. He wants to ask her if she’d ever consider dating him, if she thinks JJ would, or if she feels any self-respecting woman would. He doesn’t, though, the question sounding too desperate in his head to say it out loud. 

Instead, he asks, “Do you think it’s weird that I knew that ballad?” His eyes don’t stray away from the cube for too long as he asks it, scared of what Elle’s gaze might tell him. 

He’s pleasantly surprised when she chuckles and says, “I don’t know how it is that you know half the things you know, but I’m glad you do.” 

Spencer feels insecure when he speaks again, but he has to know the answer, “Do you think it’s why I can’t get a date?” He looks up at her now, waiting for the brutal blow, which is her answer. 

Elle looks slightly amused. “You ever ask anyone out?” She smiles a little, seeing the genius look genuinely dumbfounded for a second as he thinks about it. 

He never had the confidence to walk up to someone he found attractive and say something interesting enough to warrant a ‘yes’ if he asked them on a date. “No,” 

She gives him a slight shrug of her shoulders, “That’s why you can't get a date.” And Spencer seems to nod at that, and his lips tighten for a second as he nods before he looks away from her again. His focus is pulled back to the case when the UnSub calls, and for a little while, he feels better. 

On the flight home, he’s almost completely forgotten about his spiral as he plays chess with Gideon. When he hands Spencer a small present, a little smile plays on his lips as he says, “But you don’t give birthday presents.” When he finally gets the present open, he feels a little confused as he thanks Gideon for the generous gift– two VIP box seat Redskin tickets. 

He’s excited, nonetheless, to experience something new with Gideon, and Spencer believes him when he says that Spencer will love it. 

“We are. You’re coming with me, right?” Spencer asks with a slight grin.

Gideon smiles, “No.” he doesn’t let Spencer’s confusion build for long as he quickly adds, “Someone else on the plane is a huge skins fan.” 

“Who?” 

“Only person in the world who calls you Spence.” 

Speaking of the only person in the world that calls him Spence, the date was going terribly. She had invited Penelope; she thought it was a group thing. He begged Hotch and Gideon for some pointers, anything. They reminded him she was already his friend, but that wasn’t very helpful. He knew how to talk to her on a typical day. On a date? Not so much.

Then, she invited Penelope. Now he’s stuck on a date where only one person in the group knows it was supposed to be a date, and he feels nauseous. He’s trying to keep a conversation going, but every time it picks up for a second, he feels himself fumble the metaphorical ball, and it dies again. 

Eventually, he excuses himself to get some air. He’s debating calling Gideon and updating him on how it’s going. His feet pace on the concrete stadium floor. He’s near the elevators, and he can barely hear himself– it’s auditory overload hell. He shuts his eyes tight, stuffing his phone back into his pocket as he covers his ears, leaning against the cool wall beside the elevators. 

It’s all muffled, barely helping, but the feeling of the cool wall on his back through his clothes helps relax him slightly. His shoulders relax briefly before he feels two fingers lightly tapping his shoulders, and he’s rigid again. 

Rigid until his eyes snap open to see that it’s you. You from the bookstore, with that same kind smile, same dazzling smile, it is you. You’re yelling over the shouting, but he can barely hear you. You laugh. He can only tell by your facial expression as all the sound falls deaf to his ears over the crowd's yelling. 

Once it calms down, you repeat yourself, “Are you alright?” 

He nods, then you’re giving him a skeptical look, and he slowly shakes his head. 

“Is it the noise?” 

A part of him wants to tell you that it’s everything he is experiencing today, but instead, he whispers a soft “Yes.” 

You twist your lips to the side, looking upset for him. Your empathy is so sweet and pure for him that he feels the knot in his chest unraveling slowly. “Let me buy you a water?” You offer, motioning to a concession stand a few steps away. 

He doesn’t remember saying yes, but you’re grinning as you walk with him to the stand and buy the two of you a bottle. After a sip or two, you say, “I’m not the biggest fan of football games either. My dad loves em’.”

He nods along silently, feeling so socially overwhelmed that he barely has the energy for more conversation. You seem happy to fill the gap: “I ran into you at that bookstore on 8th, right?” 

Spencer’s beaming as he pulls the bottle away from his lips, nodding, speaking for the first time in a while. “Yes.” 

You let out a happy hum, “Small world,” And Spencer agrees with you silently. 

It's the most comfortable he’s felt all week, and he wonders if maybe this failed date of his was a strange blessing in disguise. He’s about to ask for your name when Penelope approaches the two of you, blinking starstruck at Spencer and you as she introduces herself when the crowd begins to cheer again. Any noise he can hear is drowned out, frowning as you shake Penelope’s hand and say your name– a name he cannot hear. Some more words follow, but it's all small talk until you excuse yourself to return to your father in the stands. 

Then he’s the one being dragged away from you, convinced once more that he’ll never see his pretty stranger ever again. 

Third Meeting

It’s the night before Halloween. Ask anyone who knows Spencer; they will tell you he genuinely loves Halloween. It’s a part of him, always has been. He likes that you can dress up as anyone you want to be without judgment. He loves the build-up, the history, and the scents that fill the air. 

So, when he manages to get the night off, he’s quick to try and convince someone from the team to head over to a cemetery not too far from headquarters. Even when he explains how it is for a classic horror movie showing on the graveyard’s lands, everyone declines. 

Now, he’s setting up an oversized quilt on the soft grass, smoothing out the edges of the oversized quilt with his hands before sitting down on it. His hands move to his bag, pulling out a few of his favorite snacks, drinks, and so on as he watches the cemetery slowly fill up with people. 

He’s happy. He feels a little strange at the thought, but he’s happy– even if it is in the middle of a cemetery. 

A gentle voice cuts through the soft quiet of the graveyard, “I knew I was going to run into you sooner or later,” 

He turns his head to look at you, picnic basket and blanket in hand. You smile down at him. He trips over himself as he stands, his cheeks flushing as you laugh at the sight. He rubs his suddenly sweating hands on his button-up as he reluctantly offers you his hand to shake, only to realize that you don’t have a hand available. 

“Can I—” he says softly, “Would it be alright if I—" he swallows hard, his voice cracking lightly. Do you need help with your things?” 

You glance down at your hands, smiling slightly as you shake your head politely. “I’m sure I can find a good spot soon. I didn’t mean to disturb you.” 

“You’re not, honest. I’m, uh, I’m here alone, and it doesn’t start for another fifteen minutes.” You silently debate his offer, and then Spencer feels a wave of confidence surge through him, “You can always sit with me if you’d like. I promise I’ll try to be quiet.” 

You seem to think that’s funny as you nod, “Well, it is a silent film.” 

“You don’t have to say yes. I just have a big blanket, and I’m in a good spot to see the screen and–”

“I’ll sit with you,” You cut him off softly, bending down to gently get the picnic basket on the edge of his quilt. Spencer moves out of your way, awkwardly shuffling for a second before he decides this might be a good time to introduce himself. 

“I’m Spencer.” 

You glance up at him as you move to sit on the blanket, smiling as you tell him your name. He licks his lips nervously, nodding as he sits beside you. His nervous eyes dance over your figure as you set your blanket, which he now sees has little cartoon ghosts all over it, to the side of your basket. 

You’re frowning slightly as you reach into the basket, pulling out a small cup of jello and a spoon. “I’m sorry. If I had known I was sharing a blanket with someone, I would have brought another cup.” 

Spencer finds it funny as he leans over to his satchel and pulls out his own cup of jello and spoon, “No need,” 

You laugh lightly as you raise your jello cup to his. “Cheers, then. " Spencer smiles lightly as the two of you tap the edges together for a moment before falling into a comfortable silence while eating jello. 

Spencer’s spoon digs into the jello, and he asks, “Is this your first time seeing Nosferatu ?”

You let out a soft hum as you pull your spoon out of your mouth and quickly nod, “Yes!” You say after swallowing, “What about you?” 

“Third.” 

“Didn’t remember it well enough the first two times?” 

He lets out a shy laugh at that— it feels strange for someone to be unaware of his eidetic memory, and he wonders how long that’ll last. “Not exactly. I guess just like Halloween.” 

“A man of good taste,” You quip back softly, taking a smiling bite of jello. 

Spencer laughs as his eyes watch your lips close around your spoon before he pulls them away to look into your eye, hoping you don’t notice as he stutters lightly. “That’s debatable.” 

You’re looking down at your half-eaten Jello cup. “I’m the judge here. I deem it a fact that you are a man of good taste. You’re wearing a cardigan. That’s how the judicial system works, don’t you know?” You look back at him with a smirk, and Spencer can’t help the chortle that escapes his throat. 

“That is not how the United States judicial system works, but thank you.” 

“Yeah, you look like someone who would know all the inner workings of the judicial system.” 

Spencer can feel his cheeks getting red at how your voice sounds—teasing and a little flirty. Oh my god, were you flirting with him? He’s sure he’s all smiles and red cheeks as he looks at you, changing the topic. “None of your friends wanted to come with you tonight?”

“No, not their scene. It’s okay, though. I’m making a new friend right now.” 

Spencer’s finishing off his Jello as he steals a glance at you again, stars in his eyes. “You don’t even know me.” 

“Sure I do. Your name is Spencer. You like jello, nonfiction, Halloween, and dressing like a teacher’s assistant.” 

Spencer doesn’t want to say you’re wrong, even though he knows you’re just being nice, but he doesn’t want to spend another week without seeing you. He wants to be your friend— he’ll be anything you want him to be. “Could I–” He licks his lips, eyes searching yours nervously. 

You watch him carefully, tilting your head to the side as you look into his brown eyes. The sun is gone now, but the rising moon is shining down on him. He seems so… gentle, like a deer in a quiet forest.  A part of you just wants to scoop him up and bring him home with you, as inappropriate as that is. 

“You wouldn’t have to– It’s alright if you say no. I was just thinking I could give you my number sometime, maybe.” He manages with a gentle huff of air. 

You nod a little, “Sometime, maybe.” You repeat with a slight grin forming on your lips. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see the projector starting to play the movie, and a hush falls over the cemetery’s lawn. 

Spencer’s voice is a little too loud as he rushes to say, “I mean, now. Would it be alright if I–” A shush cuts him off, and his back straightens quickly as he shuts his mouth. His eyes meet yours for a second before darting over to the projection. 

You’re watching him again, how he’s staring at the screen like his life depends on it. You scoot closer to him, grabbing your folded-up blanket in the process. Once you reach his side, you drape the folded blanket around his shoulders carefully before doing the same to your own. 

His fingers gingerly grab one of the blanket's edges, casting you an apologetic glance for a second as your pants graze against his. You seem unbothered as you lean toward him. “I would love your number after this, " you whisper, looking up into his doe-like eyes before turning your head to watch the film. 

He’s beaming now as he stares at you, and his chest tightens slightly when you lean close to him again. You’re so close he can smell your perfume, the scent tangling with the sweet smell of crisp fall air. “You like costume parties?” Your voice is barely audible. 

He signals that he does silently, his head moving up and down quickly. The sight makes you grin as you mouth a silent, ‘Perfect’ at him before your attention is fully pulled back to the movie. 

Spencer feels warm all over for the rest of the night, and three months from now, he’ll start to believe three is a lucky number as he picks you up for your third date with him and just how perfect everything feels when he kisses you. 

[intermundia]

(Star Wars: Crimson Reign #3 - The Archivist)

the concept of jedi as celebrities is so interesting to me, mostly because they're monks of an order whose philosophy is grounded on egoless service and humility. one jedi should be roughly the same as any other when sent on a mission, because the jedi serve the force. there may be slight differences in methodologies, yes, but fundamentally, they're not there to make a name for themselves as anything other than as representatives of the jedi order.

but of COURSE it makes sense that the galaxy would be obsessed with them. a mysterious group of wizards who use flashy swords and make peace through persuasive words and heroic deeds? of course people wrote books about them, watched shows about them, adults gossiped about them, and kids pretended to be them when playing. so the question of how all that knowledge was wiped away within a generation is a good one, and the comic presents a good answer:

(Star Wars: Crimson Reign #3 - The Archivist)

the earnest goodness of the jedi comes across to many as sanctimonious. they're too responsible with their power, too cool and restrained. they don't lash out with anger on behalf of those they love, you know? they don't smile enough, too serious. they're seen as the embodiment of "we have food at home" energy. the reality of the canonical order as gentle and joyful, surprisingly playful and open, isn't sexy enough to redeem their moral authority.

based on my inbox and the way people respond to some of my posts about the jedi, the resentment that this engenders in the population of the GFFA feels very real. there is actual HATRED directed toward this fictional group, irrational and out of all proportion. the comic suggests that people jump to hate those who make them feel guilty and self-conscious, because lashing out absolves yourself of confronting the reason you secretly know you'd be judged and found wanting, and that seems accurate.

i would insert a thousand examples here of the jedi not deserving this reputation, but the canon behavior of the jedi doesn't matter, the galaxy cheered as they died anyway and lots of fans love to hate on them. the mere concept of them and their philosophy is enough to alienate people, and i think that's a shame, but understandable. i'll love them enough to make up for it haha

[hunny-beann]

Worship; Devastation

Loki Laufeyson x f!Reader

Synopsis: Prince Loki gets some ideas regarding worship upon witnessing his lover in the particularly ethereal lighting of his bathing quarters...

And honestly, what is worship if not laying your utterly devastating touch upon your lover just to watch them unfurl before you?

Or, alternatively:

Devotion, reverence, and veneration at the hands of a god in 3,800 words or less

Note: Welcome back to the smut fest! Similarly to my last Loki smut fic, I also wrote a great deal of this one very early in the morning, so my apologies for any errors that I didn't manage to spot and edit out. I hope you enjoy! :)

Warnings: Semi graphic NSFW, vulgarity, fingering, oral sex (f receiving)

She sat, naked as the day she she had been born, upon the edge of the royal bathing pool reserved solely for her beloved, the warm water lapping gently at her ankle as she leaned back on her forearms, right knee bent so one foot rested on the rune etched lip of the younger prince's extravagant bath.

It felt very Loki indeed, to have bathing quarters that seemed far more like a swimming pool than a tub, and she relished in the energy of the space, each detail reminding her of the man who floated gracefully in the waters just beneath her.

If her eyes were not closed at that very moment, she was certain that she would be unable to help but stare at him, not with the distracting way that his hair splayed out upon the surface of the water, or that his skin all but shone in the morning sun that doused the two of them from the skylight above.

This was not her first morning bath with him, far from it in fact, but as she basked in the sunlight, she still felt herself jump when a familiar hand wrapped around the ankle that dangled within the water, her eyes flying open to find his stunning blues already awaiting her gaze.

And oh, what a sight he made.

There he was, Prince Loki of Asgard, God of Mischief, entirely bare within the warm waters of his bath, and submerged to his upper arms, revealing his strong shoulders, angular jaw, and sharp collar bones, all of which dripped almost tantalizingly with slow moving droplets of water, which clung to his skin in a manner that nearly made her jealous of them.

He looked up at her with an earnest curiosity and something that almost bordered on vulnerability, his grip loosening but not quite fading from her ankle as his thumb began to stroke the flesh just above where the water ceased to lap at her.

Eager to find out what had caught the attention of her lover, she leaned forward, placing her hand atop his own as she tilted her head in a silent question that she soon vocalized in spite of her subtle gestures.

"Is there something wrong, dear prince?"

She asked, her voice quiet and with an almost breathless quality that only seemed fitting for such a peaceful morning.

In reply, Loki simply placed his free hand on the lip of the bath and used that as leverage to pull himself ever closer to her, his other detaching from its wrapped position around her ankle so he could move it upward, fingertips craving the feeling of more of her soft skin beneath them.

Meanwhile, she watched him with a curiosity of her own, taking in with a vast gratitude unknown to the man just beneath her the details of his person, from the freckles that dotted his cheeks and nose, to those that rested upon his shoulders, all the way up to the curve of his brow and the way that his black locks looked when slicked back from both the water and the way he had inevitably run his hands through them.

"Not quite."

Loki answered, his voice low and still slightly thickened by his semi-recently halted slumber, though those eyes of his swam with a subtle amusement that betrayed how much he and his lover's conjoined time in the bathing quarters had energized him.

"I simply desired to ensure that I wasn't still dreaming."

He continued, expression remaining slightly awe-filled as he looked up at her from the waters not far below, his once less occupied hand coming to rest upon her previously bent leg, which was now lowered alongside the other into the water as she continued to sit upon the bath's edge, his fingers kissing her damp flesh with a well known gentleness that had her sighing out softly, a small smile finding her lips.

He watched her with such fondness, such peace that not so long ago, she would have thought was entirely unknown to him, and he had believed he would never find nor understand.

How wrong they had been.

And how grateful they were for that fact now that they each knew the touch of the other, the love of them.

And as she looked into her darling prince's eyes she was reminded of that love, even as she could not help but smile at his familiar dramatics, her hand reaching down to curl some of his hair behind his ear, allowing her touch to linger briefly upon his jaw before she moved back once more.

"And why would you think yourself still slumbering, my dear?"

She wondered aloud, half anticipating a peaceful silence to follow, only to find herself pleased when Loki's all consuming voice filled the room shortly afterward.

"Have you ever seen your love illuminated by a halo of morning sunlight?"

He questioned gently, his hands still creeping ever upward, now resting upon her knees as he awaited her response with a patience that felt foreign to her when acted out by him, though she certainly did not complain.

As her reply to her prince's immensely endearing question, she hummed, watching the way that the sun cast its light upon him in an almost ethereal manner, reminding her once more of his nature.

She smiled,

"I believe that I have. Quite often, in fact."

Loki's expression of adoration continued as he watched her fondly, a slight smile finding his perfect lips, curving them upward in that manner his love adored so ceaselessly.

"I see."

He drawled slowly, fingers massaging slow circles into her lower thighs all the while,

"Then surely you can understand why I've been enraptured so."

He reasoned, placing a gentle kiss to the side of her knee as he watched for her reaction, noting the way that she shivered slightly beneath his touch, still not quite used to him, even after years of his hands lovingly caressing her skin at each and every opportunity.

He selfishly hoped, in that moment, that she might not ever come to be, just so he could continue to bear witness to the way that her body, mind, and soul reacted to his affections forevermore.

In response to Loki's gentle words and teasing ministrations, his love sighed contentedly, her flesh reacting as if chilled in spite of the warm water still lapping at her ankles.

She allowed herself a moment to bask in the closeness of him before reaching to cup his jaw again with a smile, tracing the now abandoned path of a droplet of water that had made its way from his hair down to the bridge of his nose, where it had spilled over the side and ran along his cheekbone before ultimately losing momentum and fading to nothingness in the warmth of sunlight, leaving only a faint shimmer of dampness in its wake.

She watched him for a few moments, eyes looking fearlessly and familiarly into those ever softening blues until finally, she spoke up once more, seemingly having gotten her fill of the peaceful silence.

"I suppose that I can, yes."

She replied to his previous statement, fingers moving from his cheek down to his jaw where they traced the sharpness of it gently, as if afraid it might truly cut, or perhaps as a woman in love might do to the object of her affections.

Perhaps so, indeed.

The younger prince hummed happily in response to her touch, something akin to a purr rumbling deep in his chest as he pushed as close as to her as he could manage, both hands moving to her knees in order to place the backs of them upon his muscular shoulders, thus allowing him to them wrap his arms around them from below, his long and lithe fingers finding firm purchase upon her thighs as he did so, pulling her ever closer to the edge of the bathing pool,

closer to him.

And though he was certain that she had noticed, his darling did not complain, simply watching Loki with an amused gleam in her eye as he leaned his head against her thigh, expression almost dreamy as he watched her, taking in the vision of beauty that she was, now doused fully in the morning sunlight.

"Perfection."

He murmured gently, fingers dancing upon her skin as he pressed kiss after kiss to the thigh on which his head rested. And though she felt his smile as he did so, growing almost imperceptibly with each individual graze of his lips, she did not know why until he pulled away from her ever so slightly.

"Although,"

He began to say upon doing just that, eyes finding hers once more, allowing her to see the familiar sparkle of mischief that shone there,

"I do believe this means we have a problem, darling."

His voice was all but a purr now, low and rumbling with a certain level of mock concern to it that made his dearest love flounder slightly, gaze locked with his own as if the two of them were in contest with one another for who could see into the other's soul first.

Not that she could ever stand a chance, not against him.

"You see,"

Loki continued, both sets of his fingers pressing into the supple skin of her thighs as he massaged his way upward, eyes never leaving hers all the while, her body having long since been memorized by his hands.

"Perfection is meant to be worshiped."

He murmured, moving his head slightly to press a kiss to her opposite thigh before he pinched at the former deftly, causing his lover to gasp and jump slightly beneath him, a blush growing evident upon her cheeks.

He chuckled at her reaction, humming low in his throat as he continued to press his soft lips to her flesh, allowing them to linger long enough that there was no question of what his touch was meant to convey.

Gentleness, affection, love, desire, and a constant and heady hunger, one that all but drove him to madness each time he laid eyes upon his beloved.

Her breaths shuddered in response to his persistent touch, and she allowed their locked gazes to break as she leaned her head back upon her shoulders, fingers gripping tightly to the lip of the pool as she did her best to find her voice once more, having lost it upon the very moment his lips had pressed against her, as she always did.

"Are you saying that you wish to worship me, Prince Loki?"

She breathed out after several long seconds of silence, chest heaving slightly as she finally allowed her eyes to open once more, finding his almost immediately as he smirked against her upper thigh, his hands having moved to massage the outsides of them soothingly, keeping them poised atop his shoulders so he could control just how spread they remained for him.

He shook his head in response to her words, tutting slightly before nipping where she had expected him to present her with a kiss, causing her to gasp yet again as he chuckled and lapped gently at her soft flesh with that typically oh so sharp tongue of his.

"Oh no, dear heart."

He purred, spreading her thighs even wider in order to gain a proper view of her arousal, knowing all too well the blush that was no doubt ravaging her cheeks just outside of his view in response.

He leaned in further, ignoring the urge to lay his gaze upon her disastrously beautiful face as he pressed a gentle kiss to her bare heat, smirking to himself as he felt her begin to tremble impatiently as he did so.

He had spoiled her throughout the years, after all, never one to make her wait when she made her desire for him so plainly known. And he was truly quite proud of what a mess he had made of her once so vast patience, because what else did that show if not how wonderfully he'd treated her? How high he'd set her standards simply by virtue of ravaging her at nearly every available opportunity?

She was all but ruined for anyone else, that was for certain.

And if the prince had his way (as he so frequently did), that would never even come close to changing.

He laughed softly against her as he continued, his tongue moving up and down the outsides of her folds as he teased her relentlessly, always so eager to see her squirm at least a little before he gave her what she wanted.

He was not, after all, known for being the kindest nor the most merciful god,

And he could never quite resist the urge to remind his lover of that fact, even if just for a moment or two.

And that he did, ignoring her increasing number of quiet pleas as he pressed onward, spreading her wider before him as he separated her glistening folds to find the treasure that lied just within, which he teased without mercy until her legs shook upon his shoulders and her hands started to scramble for purchase atop the marble adorned floors of his bathing quarters.

Then, and only then, as she so plainly became a quivering mess before him, did he finally meet her gaze once more, relishing the look of her glazed over eyes, heaving chest, and slightly parted lips with a truly immense sense of pride.

The vision of her like this all for him was always so very worth the wait, and he thanked the stars that he had been blessed with enough patience to manage it (at least on occasion).

And then finally, as he saw her eyes begin to focus and felt her body relax ever so slightly beneath the coaxing of his still massaging hands, he spoke up again, answering his darling's long since abandoned question with a taunting amount of ease.

"I do not wish to worship you,"

He began, grinning wolfishly up at her as he pinched at those supple thighs once more, dragging his fingers achingly close to where she no doubt desired them without ever even considering the idea of going easy on her just yet.

No, not when he still had so much left to say.

He let a heavy silence fill the bathing quarters for a moment, broken up only by the sounds of his love's breathing and the dripping of water from behind him, always present and typically soothing in the normal circumstances of his morning bath.

Though today, he paid them no mind,

He had no need to be calmed, after all.

And then finally, just as his dearest love started to bite her lip in an effort to keep from pleading with her prince to give her more, he continued, bringing a finger up to circle her entrance as he did so, allowing him to revel in the sight of her arching her back for him, pressing ever closer in spite of the all too real threat of tumbling into the water alongside him.

She'd had very little desire to get wet that morning according to the excuse she had given him earlier on when asked through pouting lips why she would not join her lover in the bath.

Though, Loki supposed, it seemed as if he had ruined any goal she had of staying dry long ago, so perhaps she cared far less for such trivialities now.

He did not bother to ask, and instead chose to continue his now well drawn out statement from before.

"You see, my dear,"

He started, gathering some of her wetness onto his middle finger as he continued, enjoying the sounds of her whimpering beneath him far too much for his own well-being, let along hers.

"It is much more of a need, I'm afraid."

He purred softly, a false pout finding his lips even as he pushed his finger into her slick entrance, fighting back a groan as she all but sucked him in, always so ready to take whatever it was that he was willing to give her.

He chuckled as she cried out in response, her head falling back to her shoulders once more as he began to pump a single long and dexterous finger in and out of her ceaselessly, adding in a second just as she started to wiggle her hips in that silent request for more.

"What a good girl you are."

He cooed teasingly, watching while she shivered at the sound of his voice, eyes squeezed shut as she fought to stave off an embarrassingly quick orgasm in response to his ministrations.

He had only just taken her this morning, after all, so how could she ever hope to look him in the eye again if she came so quickly even just after he had taken her upon his mattress?

Still, the prince had every intention of showing her exactly how helpless she was to his every touch, and rather than letting up when seeing her obvious attempts to hold back from letting go for him, he increased the speed of his fingers instead and crooked them upward slightly until he heard her gasp and felt her thighs tighten around his head from where they still resided atop his strong shoulders.

"Oh dear,"

He murmured, feigning surprise as he watched his beloved struggle not to simply give into her pleasures.

"Close already?"

He teased, watching her expression as she whined and writhed for him, his fingers never letting up even as he stretched her further upon adding a third, the feeling of which sent her mind reeling.

He was so good at this, too good, and who was she to deny a prince of what he wanted? Could she truly hope to?

Loki evidently thought not, and remained persistent, pacing his thrusts and ensuring that he was constantly hitting just the right spots inside of her, never one to give a lackluster performance, even so very early in the morning and so soon after his last.

Speaking of which...

"Even after this morning?"

He crooned, continuing his recent thought with even more mock surprise,

"Are you truly so sensitive, my love?"

He asked curiously, just barely holding back a groan as he watched the woman he adored so achingly arch her back even further, pressing ever closer to him, body so very eager to submit, and mind evidently not too far behind.

What a darling sight she made for, laid out and bare before him.

Now all that he had to do, Loki thought with a smirk, was strip her of her pride.

And of course, the best way to do that, was to remind her of exactly who it was that she belonged to, and just how helpless she was to his touch.

"Or, perhaps, is it something else?"

He questioned, leaning down to lick teasingly at her clit as she hissed and whined pitifully in reply, thighs trembling upon his shoulders all the while.

It was a telltale sign that she was close, though he chose not to tease her for that quite yet.

"Could it be your courses?"

Loki teased, knowing all too well exactly where his lover was within her cycle in spite of his questioning,

"Or maybe a preference for my fingers?"

He continued, watching as his darling cried out for him, eyes brimming with tears of pleasure as she grew closer and closer to the edge of bliss.

He chuckled, and, after a moment of thought, decided it was high time that he ended his charade for the time being.

"Or, my dear."

He began, groaning slightly as he felt her clench around his fingers in a way that made his engorged cock envious of their position, his mind suddenly filled with thoughts of her strangling his erection with her tight heat, her body always so eager to pull him in further and keep him there, begging for both of their releases.

Still, even with such rapturous visions flooding his mind, he managed to continue speaking, determined to remind her of why it was that she could cum so very quickly even so soon after their last tryst.

"Could it simply be how weak you are to my every touch?"

He purred, his voice devastatingly low and his eyes trained on hers as he spoke,

"How desperate you are,"

He continued, thrusting his fingers harder just to hear her cry out from beneath him,

"To feel my hands upon your flesh, and to hear my voice as I fuck you with whatever I so please into oblivion. Is that what it is?"

He growled, watching with immense pride as she threw her head back one final time upon hearing his words, her walls clenching around his fingers as she came hard only minutes after he had begun, encouraging a chuckle from her lover soon afterward when he finally pulled away, bringing his hand up to his mouth to fully taste her for the first time that morning as he gazed deep into her eyes, a moan of pleasure falling eagerly off of his lips all the while.

She blushed in response to this, but did not look away, her pride still just intact enough that she refused to let him get the better of her once more.

Loki remained like that for several rather long moments, savoring the taste of her until his fingers were clean, finally prompting him to remove them from his mouth so he could speak to her once more, though his words were no less teasing then than they'd been before.

"So, my darling."

He began, smirking as he rested his hand upon her thigh again,

"Do you have any qualms with me continuing to worship my dearest love upon this fine morning?"

He purred, his eyes lighting up eagerly when she swallowed thickly, shaking her head no in response just as he tightened his grip upon her legs.

"Perfect."

Loki replied casually, a glint of mischief entering his gaze once again just as a smirk fell to his lips.

And then, with a gentle tug, his love was falling into the water alongside him, pressed not long after to the wall of the bathing pool as his aching and engorged cock rubbed against her, all too eager to finally settle the score his fingers had recently turned in their favor.

It was no matter of course, they had all morning after all.

And an eternity after that.

Tags: @mischief2sarawr @ladymischief11 @lokisgoodgirl @superficialdomina @muddyorbsblr @villainousshakespeare @redfoxwritesstuff @buttercupcookies-blog

Note: If you would like to be added to/removed from being tagged in anything please feel more than free to let me know! <3

[ahqkas]

Hi!!! Wondering if you could do a part 2 to the piece you wrote about Theo trying to get you back after breaking up?

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

THE NEXT EVENING, YOU FOUND YOURSELF STANDING IN FRONT OF AN UNFAMILIAR RESTAURANT, this time with a nervous flutter in your chest. you agreed to meet up with theodore after your conversation. a decision you might regret or cherish later on. he was waiting for you, looking uncharacteristically anxious. but he moment he saw you, his expression softened, and he offered a small, almost shy smile.

"hi," theo greeted with a gentle voice. "you look beautiful."

"thanks," you replied, your voice a little shaky but genuine. "you look nice too."

the atmosphere between you two was tentative, a mix of old familiarity and new uncertainty. as you walked together to a small, cozy restaurant on the outskirts of the village, theo was respectful, maintaining a careful distance. it was clear he didn’t want to push any boundaries. you appreciated the effort, recognizing it as one of the many ways he was trying to show that he was different now.

dinner was a surprisingly pleasant affair. theodore was attentive, asking you about your day, your interests, things you had done since the breakup. he seemed genuinely interested in your answers, listening intently in a way he never had before. the conversation flowed easily, without the sharp edges that used to accompany your interactions in the past if your relationship. it felt . . . nice.

throughout the evening, theo’s actions spoke volumes. he held doors open for you, pulled out your chair, and made sure you were comfortable. when the waiter brought out the dessert, a slice of your favorite cake, theo smiled at your surprised expression.

"i remembered you liked this," he said softly, watching as you took a bite.

the gesture touched you, a small but meaningful sign that he had been paying attention, even when you thought he hadn’t. it was like he was trying to show you that he had been listening all along, just unable to act on it until now.

as the night drew to a close, he walked you back to your home, the moonlight casting a gentle glow over the grounds around you and when you reached the entrance, theo hesitated, turning to face you. his eyes, deep and earnest, searched yours as if seeking permission for what he was about to say.

"i really enjoyed tonight," his voice was laced with sincerity. "thank you for giving me a chance."

you offered him a small smile, feeling the warmth of his words seep into your chest. "i did too," you admitted, surprising even yourself.

he seemed relieved, a soft breath escaping him. "i won’t push you for anything more, i promise. i just . . . i’m grateful you’re giving me the opportunity to prove that i’ve changed."

with that, he said goodnight, his hand lingering for a moment as if he wanted to reach out and touch you, but he pulled back. you watched him go, thinking of the way he was tonight. theo was a changed man. a better version of himself. and he did all that just for you.

the next morning, you awoke with a feeling of cautious optimism. the date had been better than you had expected, and while you weren’t ready to dive headfirst back into a relationship with him, you were open to seeing where things could go.

as you sat up in bed, your eyes caught something on the nightstand that hadn’t been there the night before. a bouquet of white tulips, their petals fresh and dewy, was arranged neatly in a small vase. a note was tucked among the flowers, and with a curious frown, you reached for it.

unfolding the paper, you recognized theo’s neat handwriting:

White tulips symbolize renewal—something I’m hoping for with us. Thank you for giving me a second chance. I promise I won’t waste it.

your heart clenched at the words. the tulips were perfect — elegant, beautiful, and full of meaning. they weren’t extravagant or showy, just like the date had been; simple and sincere, a reflection of the new theo who was trying so hard to be the person you deserved.

you set the note down, your fingers brushing over the soft petals of the tulips. for the first time in a long while, you felt a genuine sense of hope. maybe, just maybe, this could be the start of something new — something better.

perhaps giving theo a chance wasn’t that bad of an idea, after all.

[zablife]

Property of Johnny

Johnny Davis x you

Johnny Davis Masterlist

A/N: A short fic based on this ask from @potter-solomons. Also, I wrote this with a raging fever so if it doesn't make sense, pls be kind. I'll fix any mistakes later.

"Goin' out for a smoke," you told Johnny, placing a kiss to his cheek as you leaned across the table to borrow his lighter.

"Take your jacket, babydoll," he reminded you gently, pulling the garment off the chair beside him and holding it out for you. He insinuated the thick leather was protection against the chilly autumn air, but you knew better. The glimmer in his eye as he caught sight of the "Property of Johnny" patch on your left arm was an unmistakable tell that he loved marking you as his.

As you walked away, Wahoo's new girl cast a covetous eye in your direction, surveying your Vandals jacket carefully before asking, “How do I get one of those?"

Everyone seated at the table could tell her air of entitlement didn't sit well with Johnny who shifted in his seat with a low grumble. He looked to the younger man to tell her how things were, how you had to prove yourself to get a jacket and why only a few lucky ladies had special insignia from their men. But it was clear Wahoo wouldn't be the one to deflate her ego. Not with her hand resting on his upper thigh, moments away from whispering it was time to get out of here.

Pulling away suddenly, she snapped her gum in a show of childish impatience. "Well? Anybody gonna answer me?" she persisted.

"How long you been with this guy?," Johnny asked, indicating toward Wahoo with his beer bottle. Before she could speak up, he answered his own question. "A month... at best?" he mumbled to himself as though he were counting up the days in his head.

"So?" she shrugged.

"You work mighty quick if he's ready to call you his old lady," he hummed, taking a long swig of his beer.

Turning to Wahoo and running a manicured hand through his glossy black hair, she cooed, "I am...Ain't I, baby?"

Wahoo gulped as he looked back at Johnny. "Sure, sure," he hushed her, pulling her hand away gently. His cheeks flushed in embarrassment as she suddenly pulled his jacket from his chair, donning his colors and giving a little twirl for show.

"See how good I look?" she asked the group. "Now when do I get mine, huh?" she pouted.

Johnny rolled his eyes before looking out the window at you, thinking of all the sleepless nights you'd spent waiting for him and the countless times you bandaged his wounds. The arguments about the club that nearly ripped you apart, only for you to work things out and try all over again because you knew how important it was to him. It was that kind of love and patience a man needed to survive. One look at the simpering child across from him playing dress up told him she wasn't the type to stick around when things got hard.

"I don't think you understand, sweetheart," Johnny began in the even controlled tone he used when laying down the rules to a newcomer. "That's earned," he said, pointing to you for emphasis. "She's the most loyal person I know. Woman's stuck by me through thick and thin," he explained with an earnest nod.

As you returned from outside, you couldn't help but notice the sour look on the young girl's face as she fell back into her chair, arms folded over her chest as she whined to Wahoo, "I'm a good person too, you know. What does he want me to do, recite a pledge or somethin'?"

Johnny stood to excuse himself, a low chuckle rumbling from his chest as he placed a hand at the small of your back to indicate he was saying his final words on the subject. "Maybe if you stick around long enough you'll figure it out for yourself," he tossed over his shoulder with a wink.

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

"What was all that about?" you asked Johnny when you were undressing for bed.

"What?"

"Don't give me that. What did you say to Wahoo's girl tonight?" you pressed.

"Why does it matter? She ain't gonna be here long," he grunted as he pulled the belt from his trousers.

"You know that from one conversation?" you asked, eyebrows raised at him playfully. "Poor kid just wants a jacket," you reminded him.

"Well she ain't gettin' one," he muttered. "We don't give out jackets for fucking our members."

"Oh, you don't?" you asked playfully, watching him carefully as he wound the belt around his fist, leather cracking angrily before he shoved it into a dresser drawer. The meaning behind your jacket had always been a bit of mystery to you, but you assumed it was to keep other men away from Johnny Davis' girl.

In an attempt to find out you poked the bear with a single statement. “You're a damn liar if you think I don't know the reason you gave me this jacket," you snickered as you hung it in your closet with the “Property of Johnny” patch facing you. “Want everybody to know...," you mused, tracing the stitching with your fingertips.

Johnny's brow twitched at the accusation, crossing the room to capture you in his arms. “What? That I'm proud you're mine?" he prompted, holding your face in his large palm.

"To keep their distance," you corrected, holding his gaze.

"Can't it be both?" he grinned at you mischievously before ducking his head to place kisses along your collarbone.

Full lips brushing against the column of your throat, you soon felt his hot breath ghost over the shell of your ear as he whispered, "I think you know me better than that. I protect what’s important to me and that's the love you give me. Wouldn't be nothin' without you, darlin."

Your heart swelled at his praise, fingers curling tightly over his biceps as his hand began stroking languidly up your spine.

He paused momentarily to rest his chin against your head. “I know the things you gave up for me and this is the only way I can repay you, keeping you safe."

You shook your head against his shoulder, tears forming in the corner of your eye. "I'm here cause I wanna be."

He hugged you tighter, arms lacing around your waist until you could hardly breathe. "I know, baby. I never said it, but I should have. Thank you," he mumbled into your hair, biting back emotion.

"Don't have to thank me," you assured him, stroking his hair. "I love you and I always will," you whispered with a lump in your throat.

Walking you gently toward the edge of the bed, Johnny pushed you onto the mattress with a smile you hadn't seen in months, the stress of work and the club consuming every waking hour. "I love you so much," he huffed as he tumbled over with you. "Gonna show you," he promised, rolling his hips over you with pent up desire.

[navybrat817]

Two Sides of the Same Coin

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader, The Winter Soldier x Female Reader Summary: A night of passion awakens something beneath the surface of the man you love. Word Count: Over 2k Warnings: E/xplicit s/exual content, d/ubcon, c/hoking, p/ossessive behavior, possible soft!dark vibes if you squint, pet name, Bucky Barnes and the Winter Soldier (they're warnings, okay?). Graphic talent and thanks: Banner - @sgt-seabass, Divider - @firefly-graphics, Moodboard - yours truly A/N: This wouldn't leave my head until I wrote it down. We'll call this AU Torn in Two.❤️ Thanks to @rookthorne and @sgt-seabass for spitballing. Beta read by the wonderful @whisperlullaby ​, but any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You had dated Bucky Barnes for over a year before he asked you to move in with him. It was a big step for him as he valued his privacy and security. He also wanted to make sure you were safe in case he had any nightmares. That was a couple of months ago and you couldn't remember the last time you were this happy. Falling asleep and waking up beside him was a dream come true. And since you moved in, he hadn't slept on the floor to your knowledge.

Not once.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.”

“So are you, Bucky,” you whispered.

You traced a bit of scar tissue by his left shoulder as you gazed up at him before you brushed the hair from his eyes. He wasn't afraid for you to see his scars. At least, not anymore. In your eyes, as much as they were painful reminders of what happened to him, they were beautiful because they were his. You loved the parts of him he dared not love himself.

There’s beauty in the bleeding and you’d happily cleanse his wounds.

“Please,” you whined as his hands grazed along your bare chest. The contrast of the flesh and metal had you shivering as they moved lower and you lifted your hips, as if that would get him inside you faster. Glancing at his thick and heavy cock, you knew he wouldn’t be able to resist the need for you much longer either.

“Please, what?” he asked as he shifted forward, guiding himself to your wet entrance.

You whimpered when he pushed the tip in and froze. He undressed and teased you hours ago and you were more than pent up. In the beginning, he was almost afraid to touch you, let alone have sex with you. He told you he didn’t want to lose control. Some days, you almost wished he did. Not to hurt you, but to show that he had nothing to worry about. That you could take all of him. Every single part.

“Please, make love to me. Fuck me. Choke me. Whatever you need,” you answered unashamedly before he captured your lips in a heated kiss.

You let him explore your mouth as he buried himself to the hilt, whining when he froze again. You clutched his hair with one hand as you kissed him back in earnest, determined to let him know that he could move. Whether he was savoring the feeling of being inside you or attempting to make you go pliant under his lips and touch, you were eager for him to thrust deep and take.

You weren’t going to break.

“Please,” you whispered again as he pulled away, your gaze as steady as his.

“You really want me to fuck you?” he asked as he began to move, making you gasp at the slow pace he set. “Choke you?”

You bit your lip when he pulled out and slid back in. The uncertainty in his eyes rendered you speechless because you didn’t want to push him to do anything he was uncomfortable with. Choking wasn’t on his firm “no” list, but you still hadn’t tried it. Boundaries, safe words, communication, those things were important.

“You don’t have to,” you assured him as he rested his left hand on your neck. Just the weight of the metal against your skin had you clenching around him, your cunt telling him everything he needed to know. “But I can take it if you want to.”

“You can take it?” he asked, pleasure swirling in your stomach as he drove into you faster. He didn’t squeeze yet, but your heart pounded in anticipation. “You trust me?”

You trusted him with your life. You had since the moment you met, even when he said you had no reason to. The man wasn’t a villain in your eyes and never would be. Your unwavering faith in him brought the two of you closer together. And his care helped keep you by his side.

“I can take you,” you smiled when your hand went over his, hoping to give him the encouragement to try when you gave it two taps. “I trust you.”

"Trust that I won't hurt you?" he pressed, like he needed the extra assurance.

"You would never hurt me."

You writhed underneath him the second his fingers tightened around your throat. A ghost of a smile touched his handsome face before his hand squeezed a little bit more. You raised your hips with a wicked grin when you raked your nails down his right arm. The guttural moan he let out almost made you do it again before he took your hand and slammed it above your head.

He was no longer smiling.

“I’m sorry,” you said immediately, thinking you hurt or upset him. Because there was no playful smirk on his face like he had the few times he pinned you down. The last thing you wanted to do was inflict more pain. After everything he had been through, he didn't deserve more.

Especially not from you.

But he didn’t slow his hips, the drag of his cock along your walls making you moan despite your worry. His thrusts became almost mechanical, the harsh sound of slapping skin filling the room as he gripped your neck a bit more. It was different from the way he normally took you, like his mission was to ruin you.

It felt good.

“A little tight,” you tried to tease, but he didn’t speak.

It was then that you noticed a shift in his blue eyes. It was almost as if they had gone blank. Was something wrong? Was he even seeing you?

“Bucky?” you gasped, your heart pounding at his cold expression when he practically snarled. Why would the sound of his own name upset him? You could’ve tapped his hand three times to give him the signal to stop, but your finger refused to move as a thought entered your mind. No. It couldn’t be. “…Soldat?”

He answered with a punctuating thrust. Your mouth fell open and tried to process what exactly was happening. No way would Bucky joke about that, but it wasn’t possible. "B-But. You're gone,” you said. The programming and conditioning were eliminated in Wakanda.

He brought his face an inch from yours, close enough to feel his hot breath at his words. “I never left.”

You couldn’t speak because of how brutal the next thrust was, punching the little air you had left out of your lungs. Your toes curled as the mattress rocked underneath you, one hand still pinned above your head. The Winter Soldier had his cock in you. It was him.

How was that even possible?

Maybe this was the reason Bucky tried to be so careful, but was he even aware? Where did he go? You lifted your finger to tap his hand, but your pussy clamped harder around him and spurred him on.

“Been waiting for this,” he grunted, bringing his mouth to your ear. "He can’t fuck you the way you need, but I can."

You should’ve been terrified, but this was still the man you loved, right? Bucky had to be in there somewhere. You swore you’d trust and accept every part of him. But you couldn’t even think straight at the moment.

Because it felt so fucking good.

“Can feel how desperate you are for me,” he said as tears sprang to your eyes. “Keep sucking my cock back in. Knew I’d fuck you better.”

You wanted to yell that he was wrong, but all you did was moan. After all, weren’t you the one who asked him to lose control? Promised that you could take everything he could give you?

God, was this your fault?

”He’s scared. Scared of me,” he told you, nipping your earlobe before he snapped his hips. You couldn’t even feel the sting. “But he can’t stop me from taking what’s ours, angelochek."

He pulled back to stare at you with those cold eyes and you were helpless to do anything but lay there beneath him. How many people saw that look before they died? Would he kill you?

Bucky loves you, but what about the Soldat?

You trembled, barely registering the squelching sound of your cunt as he drove faster into your willing body. You didn’t stop him, unsure if you even wanted to. Desire, apparently, didn’t need oxygen.

Air.

You couldn’t breathe.

"I-I can't," you gasped as colors swirled in front of your eyes.

He growled, burying himself to the hilt again and again. "You breathe when you come."

If you closed your eyes, you could imagine it was your Bucky fucking you within an inch of your life. But you didn’t allow them to slip shut. You did, however, allow yourself to slip away. You were close.

To your last breath or a powerful orgasm.

”You have to earn it. It’s all about reward. Pain brings life,” he said, his voice gravel when the knot tightened in your core. “I can give you that."

I love you, Bucky.

Just before you thought you’d pass out, the deep voice of the Winter Soldier said a word in Russian. The coil within you snapped and your body shuddered from your release. Your wetness seeped around his cock as his metal hand fell away, allowing you to greedily inhale as the blood rushed back to your head. Your lungs burned and you almost couldn’t feel the rest of your body from how lightheaded you were.

But you felt everything when he came inside you with a groan.

You nearly sobbed with relief when he collapsed on top of you and let go of your wrist, your body spent as you finally let your eyes close. The kaleidoscope of colors were still there as you panted and tried to block out the roaring sound in your ears. It stopped when you felt the familiar scruff softly nuzzle your neck to soothe your shaking body.

The way Bucky always did when you came back to yourself.

"Shh."

The metal hand along your side brought warmth back to you when you thought you went cold. Touch was important to you after sex to both of you, but you didn't know who he was right now. You craved the comfort nonetheless because it was him at his core.

The man you swore you'd stand by no matter what.

“Told you you’d breathe when you come and you did for me," he said, a touch of triumph in his eyes when he lifted his head. "You think you’re his, but you belong to me, too."

Another tremor ripped through your body. The Winter Soldier was still there after all. And he was right. It wasn’t one of your regular orgasms either. It was like an out of body experience. How did he do that? Did Bucky feel it, too? Did he fight to get out of his own mind to get back to you?

You weren't sure how to even approach the inevitable conversation of what happened and where to go from here.

“Where?” you coughed a little as your eyes opened slightly. “Where is he?”

“You’re a very deep sleeper, angelochek. Makes it easy to visit you,” he said, ignoring your question as he peppered kisses along your throat. His words made your blood run cold. “Because he sees you in the light while I see you in the dark.”

Your eyes felt heavy again before he reached for the water on the nightstand and made you drink. "W-What?" you asked.

What the hell did that mean?

Did the Soldat take over Bucky’s body around you before? No, surely you would’ve remembered. But he said you were a deep sleeper, which is true. How many times has he visited you and you not know about it?

Better yet, what exactly did he do while you were sleeping?

"You told him you'd love every part of him. That means you love me, too,” he reminded you, his lips brushing against yours as you allowed exhaustion to take over. “So rest while you can because we're just getting started."

How is Bucky going to react? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[sunfyresrider]

Do you love me?

Synopsis: After a fight with his mother, she tells him you don't love him. So, Aegon does what he does best and invades your existence entirely.

Pairing: Aegon II Targaryen x Wife (you) Warnings: SMUT LEGIT JUST SMUT, oral, penetration, kissing, aegon being pathetic. Word count: 1855 Note: As I said, smut to celebrate 200 followers!!! Forgive me if this is not my best work. I wrote it during the 2 hours I have before my job. (Literally posting this as I'm in the car on my way there) Sill I hope you enjoy the depravity my brain created.

You, peacefully, were writing letters to your family you had left at home to come to King’s Landing. It smelled like shit, the red keep was suffocating, and your husband… Well, he was alright at times. 

Today wasn’t one of the days he was alright. You were preparing to give the maester your carefully written messages when the door burst open and a very disheveled Aegon ran in. It took only a moment to notice the streaks of tears that stained his cherub-like cheeks. A strawberry red bruise painted the right side of his face… 

“It happened again?” you spoke softly, a slight shiver sent down your spine when he looked at you. Aegon wore the face of a desperate, pathetic and piteous boy who lacked affection from his own kin. It nearly made your heart wrench, but you’d grown accustomed to his displays. 

He would do something wrong, sometimes almost unforgivable and his mother would act in the only way she knew how. It was a never-ending cycle, he behaved inappropriately, Alicent found out and hit him, and he came running to you to ease his suffering. 

He rushed forward, grasping you by your shoulders and squeezing them tightly. His large blue eyes pleading with yours for some comfort, a silent request to ease his suffering. “Do you love me?” Aegon’s voice was shaky and hoarse from crying or yelling, only the gods knew at this point. 

When you didn’t answer fast enough, he shook you, the frown on his face deepening. “W-wife, do you love me?” You let out a deep sigh knowing what came next. You cupped his face gently and wiped the tears away with the tips of your fingers. “Of course… I love you with all my heart.” 

His mouth twisted into a crooked smile. Aegon’s black pupils dilated and filled the vast ocean of blue around them. His hand moved to softly caress your face, pushing the loose hairs out of his way. He dragged his thumb to your bottom lip gently tugging at it. Aegon leaned in so his breath warmed your skin and his lips hovered above yours. His eyes were half lidded and lips swollen from biting them, “prove it.” 

He whispered into you, and you let out a deep breath you didn’t realize you were holding. You slowly shrunk down onto your knees, taking your time to unfasten the buttons that lined his trousers. You should be used to it by now, the image of his cock springing out his pants that is. Yet somehow the size never ceased to surprise you. 

To be blunt you didn’t enjoy being on your knees or giving him head. In fact, you dreaded it. However, he never failed to reward you in earnest. His constant need to prove himself worthy of something gave you something to look forward to. So, you did not hesitate to wrap your mouth around him and swirl your tongue around his tip. Your small hands that barely fit around him rubbed his length. 

Aegon moaned as your soft warm tongue glided over his shaft. He always was the noisiest man you had ever met. The sound of his pleasurable cries escaping his throat made your body fill with confidence. With each moan, his hips bucked against your face. He grabbed fistfuls of your hair pulling you closer until your nose pressed firmly against the base of his member.

You gagged at the sensation of his cock hitting the back of your throat. Delicate tears began to fall from your irises, but you managed to hold on long enough to take his full length between your lips and bob back and forth. 

“Look at me. You’re so pretty sucking my cock, wife.” The sight of you on your knees, covered in spit and drool, while you sucked his cock turned him into an animal. “Ah- I love you.” He stuttered out between whimpers.

His words always made you melt into him, they fueled a wildfire of desire inside you that only he could tame. The taste of him flooded your senses and you swallowed every drop of his precum without hesitation. You felt his cock begin to throb and his balls tighten. The amount of seed leaking into your throat steadily increasing. 

Not yet, Aegon pulled you off quickly, your mouth let go of him with a pop.  He dropped to his own knees pushing his lips into yours with a bruising force, never letting go of your hair or speaking a word. His tongue slipped into your mouth and made circles with your own. His hands moved to grope every part of your body leaving marks where they gripped. 

A soft moan left your lips when he moved to unlace the dress you were wearing. He was skilled at that making quick work of taking off your clothes while his mouth never left yours. His strong hands pushed aside your panties exposing your wetness. The cold air sending goosebumps up your body. 

Aegon pulled your legs out from underneath you seating them over his shoulders. You hadn’t realized the ache between your legs until his lips were making its way towards it. Aegon trailed wet kissed his way up your thigh and bit down hard on your inner thigh causing you to yelp.

His lips curled into a devilish smile. “Aegon please,” you whimpered underneath him. Of course, he would never say no but the sound of you begging made his cock flutter. He smirked before kissing his way back to your entrance. When his tongue slid across your clit you cried out. He teased you relentlessly, alternating licking and sucking your sensitive bud.

Your hips rose off the ground as you tried to get more friction on your needy pussy. He pulled back to place kisses and marks everywhere you didn’t need him. His hands roamed freely touching every inch of your body. Every touch sent electric shocks through you. Each kiss set your nerves ablaze. 

After a few minutes of this torture, you began pleading with him to finish what he started. “Please husband, please.” Aegon’s face moved to hover over your cunt. His nose softly brushing over your sensitive clit, “Say you love me.” 

Aegon dipped a finger into your cunt, purposely pushing on that spongy spot inside you. His lips swallowed your clit, and his tongue roughly ran circles around it.  “I love you, I love you, I love you, I love AH-” 

The feeling of his index rubbing your G-spot caused your walls to contract around his digits. Your back arched off the floor as the pleasure washed over you. A scream escaped your lips, you came undone flooding his hand with your juices. His grip tightened as he buried his face further into you. 

You tried to squirm away, the stimulation becoming too much for you to bear. You couldn't stop shaking as your orgasm overtook you. All you wanted right now was to feel his thick cock inside you. "Husband," you sobbed uncontrollably.

Aegon pulled back, proudly gazing at the mess he created. He pulled his fingers to his lips sucking on the juices you left, “you always taste so sweet for me.” He leant down and pressed his lips to yours in a gentle yet desperate kiss. The taste of yourself on his tongue flooding your mouth… He wasn’t necessarily wrong you did taste sweet. 

"Aegon,” you mewled under your breath. “Wife,” he hushed you with a deep breath as he moved to turn you onto your side. Aegon didn’t treat you how you expected. He never fucked you like a whore, he preferred to cuddle while he rammed his cock inside you. He liked being able to watch you whilst he played with your breast and the feeling of the heat from your back warming his chest. 

He placed one arm behind you pulling you tight against his bare chest. He positioned himself behind you looking down into your eyes, he gently lowered his head and claimed your lips with his own. Your tongues tangled together, his cock resting just below your slit. He rubbed himself against you, collecting all the wetness onto his cock before he prodded at your entrance.

"Fuck!" You gasped as he pushed himself into you. The thickness of his cock filled you completely, stretching out your cunt no matter how many times it had been there. His thumb moved to your clit and he began rubbing it gently, sending waves of tingles throughout your entire body.

Aegon moved his free hand to cup your breast as his pace increased slowly building up speed. You could hear his grunts filling the room, the sensation of you clenching around him overwhelming him. His thrusts became harder, his grunts turning into soft moans invading your ears. You choked out praises, “you feel so good h-husband.” 

He moved his hand to rub your clit faster.  An intense pressure building within you with every movement. His breathing grew heavy as his cock continuously hit your cervix, your cunt trying to squeeze out his seed. “Aeg- please I need you,” you whimpered desperately. Aegon dropped his head into the crook of your neck and sucked on your bare skin.

"Mmhmm." He groaned into your ear, his hips moving quicker, your hips bucking to meet his. Your cries turned into screams as he pounded into you, “fuck fuck fuck,” you panted beneath him. His fingers swirled around your clit, the coil in your stomach threatening to break any moment. “P-please cum in me,” you whined pathetically. 

His pace quickened, the muscles in his arms bulging with each pump. The sounds of him railing into your wetness echoed throughout the room. Aegon began singing barely audible praises into your ear. As he neared his climax he growled, his voice rising above the noise of your bodies colliding.

You clenched around his length, the overwhelming feeling of ecstasy taking over. Your body began to shake as your second climax washed over you more intense than before. “Gods,” he cried out. You felt his cock pulsating inside you, his hot seed spilling forth and coating your womb. He shoved his lips into yours, muffling the cry that escaped your lips as you reached your finish. 

His movements slowed, the sting of him stretching you out beginning to take over the pleasure. You winced as he pulled himself out from deep within you. You laid limp beside him panting heavily, his hands roaming freely over your naked form. You looked up into his eyes that still held the sadness of a beggar boy. “Do you love me?” 

You moved forward with the rest of your strength, cupping his cheeks gently. You peppered kisses on his face forcing a smile to escape his lips. “Stop it,” he nudged your head back with his own. Behind the obvious sadness it was clear to see he was holding back amusement. Your expression changed, the mood growing serious by the second. You leaned back staring deeply into his sea-like eyes with nothing but adoration. “Yes, I love you very much.”

[seonghwalazia]

cradled. | Seonghwa/Reader | kinktober 04.

» summary: It’s one of those nights where all you want is to turn off your brain for a while. Conscious thought falling blissfully to the wayside, making way for nothing save a pretty head feeling as though it’s stuffed with cotton, unaware of any anxieties or stress.

» pairing: Mommy!Park Seonghwa / AFAB!Reader

» rating: Explicit

» content warning for pwp, mommy kink, dirty talk, praise kink, petnames, vaginal sex, nipple play, finger sucking, light dom/sub

» author's note: this was so rushed im so sorry i ended up hating everything i wrote (￣ ￣|||) prompts today were mommy kink + finger sucking

» ao3 link

His hands are gentle, where they cradle your cheeks. Thumbs sweeping along your cheekbones softly; a barely-there caress that makes your insides knot and twist. It’s a strange combination, you find yourself thinking, as you sink further into the mussed sheets of your bed. Seonghwa holds you as though you are infinitely precious, something to be treasured; and yet you could crawl right out of your skin and into his by the way he effortlessly makes you writhe.

It’s one of those nights where all you want is to turn off your brain for a while. Conscious thought falling blissfully to the wayside, making way for nothing save a pretty head feeling as though it’s stuffed with cotton, unaware of any anxieties or stress. Pampered, spoiled; no awareness save the delicious courtesy of Seonghwa’s loving touch - cradling and bruising in equal measure, dragging you to your brink over and again until all you can manage is to breathe his name.

He croons sweet words of praise when you clench around him, breath gasping out when his fingers idly play with your clit. Laying abed with you pressed into his chest, a leg thrown over his hip to better devour you. Plucking delectable sounds from your throat, heat coursing through your veins; your hips jerk forward to chase his touch, to unravel the knot in your core. He stretches you perfectly; pretty cock thrust deep into your dripping heat, barely moving his hips or fucking you in earnest. Seonghwa is content to watch you with heavy-lidded eyes, groaning at the tightened sheathe wrapped around his length. He pushes back your hair to better see your eyes, hazy and wide; his smile turns sweet at the sight, head leaning down until he can press a kiss against your sweat-slicked forehead.

“Angel,” he whispers, fingertips swirling around your clit until your thighs tense and a low keen slips past your teeth, “you feel so good around me. Do you like being filled with mommy’s cock, sweet girl?”

You cannot hope to find your breath, not with arousal making your veins feels tight and the pulse in your cunt deepening with his every word. Instead you nod, eager and honest, looking up at him through damp lashes and clenching around him with a low moan.

He smiles, sweet as sugarcane, and presses a kiss to your brow, your nose, your cheek. Lingers just above your mouth, his breath fanning over you in a tantalizing tease. Your back arches, chasing his mouth and the promise of his kiss, needy for the feel of him against your lips. Even still, Seonghwa denies you; low laughter your answer when he shifts his hips and arches his back, spearing himself deeper within your heat until you swear for a moment there are stars across your vision.

A hand to the back of your head brings you forward, cradled to his chest. Your eyes flutter shut at the enveloping feeling of safety, moaning brokenly for mommy as his hands wander and his words breathe life back into you. “Sweet girl, pretty girl, angel.”

Your lips part as you breathe deep, his scent filling your senses. His skin is damp but soft, smelling clean with the undercurrent of perfume and the slight musk of sweat. Heavy on your palate, your mouth drags lazy kisses across his chest as his fingers work between your thighs, dragging you slow as melting ice to the edge. Shifting hips and lazy kisses, your mouth finds a hardened nipple. Your lips close around the bud eagerly, tip of your tongue flicking over it in a facsimile of his fingers. 

His high gasp makes victory surge through you, moaning unashamedly at the feel on his beneath your tongue. Seonghwa’s hips stutter, thrusts turning harder when you suck on his nipple, cheeks hollowed and hands gripping tight to his trim waist. You suck and nip and lick ardently, leaving his skin wet and shining. Laving the flat of your tongue over it, teeth scraping just so; his nipple is dark and hard and your smile is victorious when his fingers pinch your clit in warning before doubling his efforts to make you cream around his cock.

“You wanna make mommy come that badly, angel?” Seonghwa asks with a breathless little laugh, nose buried in your hair and hips thrusting harder. Your moan is loud, despite your mouth seared over his nipple; thighs tightening and core clenched, hips trying to meet his rhythm. You can feel him nestled deep within, thick and heavy and the way he fucks you nearly has you ruined - low and slow and deep, nails raking down your naked back and cradling your neck to his chest. A juxtaposition that makes you clench, soaked and wanting and needy for more.

His fingers swirl faster over your clit, up and down or side to side; keeping you guessing. His breath comes faster now, and his kind-cruel hands knot in your hair to wrench you from his swollen, shiny nipple with a groan. He looks down on you with a pretty pink blush, loose hair falling over his forehead and a smile curbing his mouth. “Easy, angel. Mommy wants to see you.”

You preen at his words, core tightening as his thrusts increase in tempo, every shift of his cock slick and satisfying in your eager cunt. His hand roams from your hair to your face, fingertips tracing your jawline before he sweeps the pads of his fingers across your wet lower lip. You open immediately, lashes fluttering as he slides two fingers past your lips. He keeps them steady, holding down your tongue; you suck on them like a cock, wanton and unashamed. Cheeks hollowed and tongue slipping around them lasciviously, a shuddering moan shooting through your spine when he shallowly fucks your mouth in and out - in and out.

“Suck on these for mommy, angel,” he croons to you, eyes gone dark and voice gone shaky. You can feel the twitch of his cock cradled within you, back arching when those clever fingers betwixt your thighs drags you closer. “Good girl.”

He keeps you pinned between fingers and cock, hushing your muffled cries with the errant kiss and caress. Forces your eyes to stay locked on his, fucking you harder - deeper - faster until all you can do is arch and writhe and clench around him, a stifled wail coming with tears of desperation. Your toes are curling and then tension in your spine threatens to snap, but you know that mommy has you.

“There we go, angel,” Seonghwa says with a grin, watching for the moment you drop into desperation, soaking his cock and fingers until all that remains in the delicious viscosity of your agony. His fingers reach the back of your throat, making you choke and gag but he only fucks you harder, fingertips dancing over your swollen and needy clit until you swear you feel the tension in your heart. 

“Can you come for mommy, sweet girl? Make a mess all over mommy’s cock?” And it is your undoing - the knot in your core swells, heartbeat pulsing in time with his thrusts until your climax comes with a harsh cry wrenched from your throat. Your spit spills to soak him all the way down to his wrist, cunt clenching hard enough he gasps through the strain. Your muscles twitch as you moan, teeth dragging over his fingers and eyes squeezed shut to better ride your wave. His cock slams into you harsh enough to make you gasp, Seonghwa’s answering moan loud in your thunder-filled ears. 

“Good girl, a good girl for mommy - angel,” he babbles, mouth pressed into your hair. “So good for me, so tight around mommy’s cock.” He kisses your crown, keens out more messy praise; he doesn't remove his fingers from you until you’re gasping and halfway to tears, only spilling himself deep within your needy cunt when he grips slick fingers to your chin and makes you scream mommy for all to hear.

[rootedinrevisions]

One of Them Girls: Part 2

Part 2 of One of Them Girls! This was a story that I wrote about a month ago. Hope you guys all enjoy it! Many more parts to come!

Tyler's truck rolled to a gentle stop in front of the house you rented with your roommate. The rain had let up slightly, but a fine mist still hung in the air, adding a sense of calm after the intensity of the night. Tyler turned off the engine and looked over at you, a soft smile playing on his lips.

"We're here," he said quietly, almost as if he didn't want the night to end.

You nodded, feeling a mix of nervousness and excitement fluttering in your chest. "Thanks for the ride," you replied, your voice equally soft.

Tyler got out of the truck and quickly came around to open your door. He held out a hand to help you down, his touch warm and steady. You both walked up to your front door, the porch light casting a gentle glow around you.

"Thanks again, for everything," you said, looking up at him.

Tyler's smile widened. "Anytime. I had a great time tonight."

You both lingered for a moment, neither wanting to break the spell of the night. As you reached to take off the hoodie Tyler had lent you, he gently placed his hand over yours, stopping you.

"Keep it," he said, his voice firm but kind. "I have plenty of others."

You hesitated for a moment, but his earnest expression made you smile. "Alright, thanks. It's really warm."

"It looks good on you," he replied, a playful glint in his eyes.

Finally, Tyler took a small step back. "Guess I should let you get some rest," he said, though he didn't seem eager to leave.

"Yeah, I should get inside," you agreed, even though part of you wanted to stay out there with him a little longer.

As you turned to unlock the door, Tyler's voice stopped you. "Hey," he said, waiting for you to look back at him. "Can I call you tomorrow?"

A smile tugged at your lips. "I'd like that."

Tyler's eyes brightened, and he took another step back. "Goodnight, then."

"Goodnight, Tyler."

You watched as he walked back to his truck, giving you one last wave before climbing in. You stayed on the porch until his taillights disappeared down the street, then finally turned to go inside.

You turned the key in the lock as quietly as possible, pushing the door open just enough to slip inside. The house was dimly lit, and you hoped your roommate had already gone to bed. Her room was right off the living room, and you didn't want to wake her.

But as soon as you stepped inside, you were greeted by the sight of her sitting on the couch, a blanket wrapped around her, and a cup of tea in her hands. She looked up, a mischievous smile spreading across her face.

"Well, well, well," she said, setting the cup down. "Look who decided to finally come home."

You sighed, a sheepish smile tugging at your lips. "I thought you'd be asleep by now."

"And miss hearing about your night with Tyler Owens? Not a chance," she teased, patting the spot on the couch next to her. "Come on, spill."

You kicked off your shoes and walked over, sitting down beside her. "It was...interesting."

She raised an eyebrow, clearly not satisfied with your vague answer. "Interesting? That's all I get? You were out with Tyler Owens, and all you can say is 'interesting'?"

You laughed softly, shaking your head. "Okay, okay. It was more than interesting. It was actually a really great night. We talked, danced..."

Her eyes widened with excitement. "You danced? With Tyler Owens? Oh my God, tell me everything!"

You gave her a play-by-play of the night, from Tyler's initial approach to your game of pool, the dance, and finally the ride home. She listened intently, hanging on to every word.

"And then," you continued, "he walked me to the door and told me to keep his hoodie."

Her eyes narrowed playfully. "Wait a minute. Did you kiss him? Because I feel like you might be leaving out some juicy details here."

You blushed, shaking your head. "No, we didn't kiss. He almost did, but the bartender called last call and interrupted us."

She leaned back, looking satisfied. "Almost kissed, huh? That's still pretty hot."

You nodded, feeling a warmth spread through you at the thought. "He asked if he could call me tomorrow."

Your roommate squealed, pulling you into a tight hug. "I'm so happy for you! I knew something good would come out of tonight."

You hugged her back, feeling grateful for her support. "Thanks. And thanks for waiting up for me."

"Of course," she said, pulling back and giving you a serious look. "But now, you need to get some sleep. Tomorrow's a new day, and who knows what it'll bring."

You nodded, feeling a mix of exhaustion and excitement. "You're right. Goodnight."

"Goodnight," she replied, still grinning.

As you made your way to your room, you couldn't help but smile. Tonight had been unexpected, but it felt like the start of something new. And you couldn't wait to see where it would lead.

The morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow across the room. You reached for your phone on the nightstand, the screen lighting up with a new message. Tyler's name flashed on the screen.

Tyler: Hey, Good Morning. Had a great time last night. Want to meet up later? I know a place with the best breakfast tacos.

You stared at the message, your mind still foggy with sleep. A small smile crept onto your face, the memory of the night before making your heart flutter. You wondered if it was just a friendly gesture or something more. You quickly texted back, trying to sound casual.

You: Morning! Breakfast tacos sound good. Where and when?

You set your phone down and buried your face in the pillow, letting the warmth of the blanket envelope you. Your roommate's voice echoed in your mind, teasing you about last night, and you couldn't help but blush at the thought of Tyler's smile and the way he held you close.

The phone buzzed again, pulling you from your thoughts.

Tyler: How about 10 at Joe's Diner? See you there.

You grinned, feeling a rush of excitement. You weren't sure what this meant, but you were ready to find out.

You stretched and got out of bed, the promise of breakfast tacos and seeing Tyler again urging you to start your day. After a quick shower, you stood in front of your closet, staring at the rows of clothes, feeling more indecisive than usual. You rifled through your options, pulling out a few different outfits and tossing them onto the bed.

You tried on a pair of jeans and a casual top, but it felt too ordinary. A skirt and blouse seemed too formal. Finally, you pulled out a sundress—a light, flowy dress with a floral pattern. It was a bit nicer than your usual attire but still comfortable and not overly fancy. You slipped it on, feeling a little more confident as you looked in the mirror.

Just then, your roommate walked by your room and paused, taking in the sight of clothes strewn across your bed.

"What's going on in here?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "You never stress about what to wear."

You turned to face her, smoothing the dress nervously. "I have a... uh, breakfast date with Tyler. I just wanted to look nice, I guess."

Your roommate's eyes widened with a mix of surprise and excitement. "A breakfast date? With Tyler Owens? And you didn't think to tell me?"

You shrugged, a sheepish smile on your face. "I wasn't sure if it was a date date or just a friendly thing. But I figured I should make an effort."

She grinned, stepping into the room to give you a once-over. "Well, you look great. That dress is perfect. Not too fancy but definitely cute. He's going to love it."

You blushed, grateful for her encouragement. "Thanks. I hope so."

She winked at you. "Just be yourself. He obviously likes you for who you are."

You took a deep breath and nodded, feeling a little more at ease. "Yeah, you're right. Thanks."

With one last look in the mirror, you grabbed your purse and phone, ready to head out and meet Tyler.

You arrived at the diner, your heart fluttering with a mix of nerves and excitement. As you parked your car, you spotted Tyler already seated at a table by the window. He looked relaxed, wearing a casual button-up shirt and jeans, his cowboy hat resting on the seat beside him.

Taking a deep breath, you glanced down at your lap, trying to steady your nerves. Was this really happening? You were about to have breakfast with Tyler Owens. Shaking off your doubts, you got out of the car and started walking towards the diner entrance.

Tyler noticed you as soon as you stepped out. A smile spread across his face, and he stood up, making his way over to greet you. His presence, confident yet warm, made you feel a little more at ease. "Hey there," he said, his voice cheerful. "Glad you could make it."

You smiled back, feeling a bit shy but pleased by his warm greeting. "Hey, Tyler. Thanks for inviting me."

He tipped his hat slightly, a playful glint in his eyes. "Wouldn't miss it for the world. Ready for some breakfast tacos?"

You nodded, the excitement bubbling up again. "Absolutely."

He extended his arm in a gentlemanly gesture, and you walked together into the diner, feeling a sense of anticipation for what the morning would bring.

As you both settled into your seats and placed your orders, the conversation began to flow more easily. Tyler started by sharing a bit about his life on the road.

"You wouldn't believe some of the things we see out there," Tyler said with a chuckle. "Just last month, we were chasing a storm in Oklahoma, and we ended up in this tiny town with the friendliest people. They insisted we stay for their annual pie-eating contest. I swear I've never eaten so much pie in my life."

You laughed, imagining Tyler in the middle of a pie-eating contest. "Did you win?"

He grinned. "Second place. Turns out, storm chasing doesn't prepare you for competitive eating."

The waitress brought over your breakfast tacos, and you both dug in. The conversation shifted to your life in the small town.

"So, what about you?" Tyler asked between bites. "What do you do when you're not wrangling farm animals?"

You hesitated for a moment before deciding to open up. "Well, I've always loved writing. I used to dream about being an author, maybe even a journalist. But I didn't think I had the way with words to make it a profession. So, I stayed here, helping out on the farm while figuring things out."

Tyler's eyes lit up with interest. "Really? That's awesome. What kind of stuff do you write?"

You felt a bit shy but continued. "Mostly short stories, some poetry. I've started a few novels but never finished them. It's more of a hobby than anything."

"I'd love to read some of your work," Tyler said genuinely. "I bet you're better than you give yourself credit for."

You smiled, appreciating his encouragement. "Maybe someday. What about you? Any hidden talents besides storm chasing and pie-eating?"

Tyler laughed. "Well, I used to be pretty good at rodeo. Did some bull riding back in the day. That's actually how I got into storm chasing. Had a near-miss that made me rethink my life choices. Figured chasing storms was a safer bet than getting thrown off a bull."

You raised an eyebrow playfully. "Safer? Really?"

He shrugged, grinning. "Safer might be the wrong word. More exhilarating, for sure."

As the meal went on, you both shared more stories and laughs. Tyler told you about his favorite storms and close calls, while you talked about your favorite books and the stories you've written. The conversation flowed naturally, making you feel more connected with each passing moment.

As the meal went on, you both shared more stories and laughs. Tyler told you about his favorite storms and close calls, while you talked about your favorite books and the stories you've written. The conversation flowed naturally, making you feel more connected with each passing moment.

As the meal began to wind down, you decided to address the check. "You know, Tyler, you paid for my tab last night. I think it's only fair I take care of breakfast."

Tyler shook his head, a mischievous glint in his eye. "No way. This is on me."

You crossed your arms playfully. "I insist. It's only fair."

He leaned back, smiling. "You're not going to win this one. Southern gentleman, remember?"

You laughed, knowing you were in for a playful argument. "We'll see about that."

As you got up to use the restroom, you shot him a determined look. "Don't you dare pay for this while I'm gone."

Tyler just grinned. While you were away, he motioned to the waitress and handed her his card. "Run the check on this, please. And make it quick."

When you returned from the bathroom, you saw Tyler signing the check, the waitress already having run his card. You threw your hands up in mock frustration. "Tyler!"

He looked up, feigning innocence. "What? Just keeping my promise."

You shook your head, unable to keep from smiling. "You're impossible, you know that?"

Tyler stood up, offering you a hand. "I've been called worse. Ready to get out of here?"

You took his hand, feeling a warmth spread through you. "Yeah, let's go."

As you both left the diner and walked towards your car, a sense of reluctance settled over you. The breakfast had been delightful, and the conversation had made you wish the morning could last longer. Despite your enjoyment, you knew Tyler likely had other commitments, maybe a storm to chase or something equally urgent.

You reached your car and turned to him, trying to mask your disappointment. "Well, I guess this is goodbye for now," you said with a small smile. "Thanks for breakfast, Tyler. It was really nice."

Tyler smiled warmly, his eyes reflecting the same sentiment. "I'm glad you enjoyed it. I had a great time too."

You hesitated for a moment, then added, "Can I give you a hug before you go?"

Tyler's expression softened, and he looked like he was about to respond when he paused, a thoughtful look crossing his face. "You know, instead of saying goodbye now, how about we extend this a little bit? I was thinking..."

You looked at him with curiosity. "Thinking about what?"

He gestured vaguely towards the town. "There's a farmer's market happening today. Maybe we could check it out together? I'm sure it'll be fun. They have all kinds of interesting stalls and food."

Your eyes widened in surprise and delight. "A farmer's market? That sounds great! But I didn't think you'd have time for that."

Tyler shrugged, his grin widening. "I'm a bit of a sucker for local markets. And besides, I'd love to spend more time with you if you're up for it."

You felt a wave of happiness and relief. "I'd love that. Let's go!"

As you both walked towards the farmer's market, the morning sun started to warm the air, making everything seem a little brighter. You chatted excitedly about the different stalls and what you hoped to see, feeling a renewed sense of joy at the unexpected turn of events.

Tyler glanced over at you, his smile reflecting genuine pleasure. "I'm really glad we did this. It's been a while since I've had a chance to just wander around and enjoy the day."

You nodded, sharing his sentiment. "Me too. It's been a while since I've had a morning like this."

As you approached the market, the vibrant colors and lively atmosphere welcomed you both, setting the stage for a perfect continuation of your day together.

As you and Tyler arrived at the farmer's market, you were immediately struck by the vibrant array of colors and the cheerful buzz of activity. Tyler led the way, and you followed eagerly, taking in the sights and sounds around you.

The first stall you stopped at featured an array of beautifully crafted leather goods. Among the collection were journals with intricate, handmade leather covers, each one adorned with unique designs. Your eyes lit up as you perused the selection, your love for writing and books shining through.

Tyler noticed your interest and leaned in to comment, "These are some impressive journals. You look pretty captivated."

You smiled, running your fingers over the soft leather of a journal. "I love these. There's something so special about a handwritten journal, don't you think?"

Tyler nodded. "Definitely. I can see why you'd be drawn to them."

As you continued to browse, you couldn't resist the temptation to pick out a journal that you particularly liked. Tyler watched with a grin, clearly enjoying your enthusiasm.

Next, you wandered over to a stall filled with baked goods and mini pies, the sweet aroma wafting through the air. You couldn't help but smile at the sight of the freshly baked treats displayed before you.

Tyler chuckled as you took in the array of pies. "Looks like you've got a sweet tooth."

You laughed and turned to him, recalling your earlier conversation. "I guess you could say that. Hey, Tyler, want to grab a homemade pie? Remember, we were talking about that last night."

Tyler's eyes sparkled with amusement. "I'd be up for that. But only if you promise not to make me share it with Boone."

You playfully nudged him. "Deal. Let's see what they've got."

After choosing a couple of mini pies, you both continued to explore the market, chatting about the different stalls and enjoying the lively atmosphere. The morning sun bathed the market in a warm glow, making everything seem even more inviting.

Tyler and you wandered through the various stalls, each one offering its own unique charm. You found yourself laughing and enjoying the day more than you had anticipated, savoring the simple pleasure of spending time together.

As you and Tyler reached the end of the farmer's market, Tyler noticed a serene little pond with a walking path meandering around it. The water sparkled gently in the morning sun, and the scene was so tranquil that it almost seemed like a hidden gem amid the bustling market.

"Hey," Tyler said, glancing at you with a smile. "How about we take a break and sit on that bench over there? It looks like a nice spot to relax and enjoy the view."

You looked over at the bench by the pond, appreciating the thoughtfulness of the suggestion. "That sounds perfect," you replied.

Tyler led the way to the bench, and you followed, feeling a mix of contentment and anticipation. As you reached the bench and sat down, the gentle breeze from the pond carried the soft scent of blooming flowers, adding to the peaceful atmosphere.

Tyler settled beside you, and for a moment, you both simply enjoyed the serene view. The sun's rays danced on the water, and the occasional ripple added a soothing rhythm to the scene. You glanced over at Tyler, who was staring at the water with a thoughtful expression.

"This place is beautiful," you said softly, breaking the comfortable silence. "I'm glad we came here."

Tyler turned his head to look at you, his eyes meeting yours with a warmth that made your heart skip a beat. "I'm glad too. It's nice to have a break from the chaos."

As you continued to talk, the conversation naturally slowed, and you found yourselves drawn closer together. Tyler's hand, resting casually on the bench between you, brushed against yours. The touch was light, almost accidental, but it sent a shiver down your spine.

You looked at his hand, then back at him, and found him gazing at you with an intensity that made your breath catch. He shifted slightly, his face inching closer to yours, as if drawn by an invisible force.

Just as you began to feel the electric tension between you, Tyler leaned in, his eyes flickering between yours and your lips. You could feel the warmth of his breath on your face, and the world seemed to narrow down to just the two of you.

But just as his lips were about to meet yours, a loud voice pierced the intimate moment. "Last call for coffee!" the vendor from the market called out, abruptly ending the peaceful bubble you'd been in.

Tyler pulled back slightly, a mix of surprise and disappointment in his eyes. He cleared his throat and gave a sheepish smile. "Guess that's our cue to head out."

You nodded, trying to hide your own disappointment while feeling a flutter of excitement at what almost happened. You stood up from the bench, feeling a bit dazed but happy.

Tyler offered you a hand to help you up. "Shall we?" he asked with a playful grin, and you took it, feeling the warmth of his hand lingering on yours.

As the two of you make your way back towards the parking lot, the sun casts a warm, golden hue over the small town. The conversation flows easily between you, and Tyler's thumb gently rubs the back of your hand, making your heart flutter. The connection between you feels natural and comforting.

When you reach your car, you turn to Tyler with a hint of disappointment. "I guess this is where we say goodbye," you say softly, trying to keep the sadness out of your voice.

Tyler looks at you with a mix of regret and curiosity. "Do you have any big plans for the rest of the day?" he asks.

You nod, a smile tugging at your lips. "I've got to head over to the farm and help with some animal chores. You're welcome to come by if you want."

Tyler's eyes light up at the invitation, but his phone rings, breaking the moment. He glances at the screen and sighs. "It's my crew," he says, sounding conflicted. "There's a new storm system forming, and we need to chase it."

You can see the internal struggle on his face, and you give him a reassuring smile. "It's okay. I understand how important this is to you. Go do what you need to do."

Tyler hesitates for a moment before nodding, his expression showing how much he wishes he could stay. "I promise I'll come back to visit once the storm's passed."

You both linger for a moment, the goodbye feeling more significant than you'd expected. Tyler gently takes your face in his hands, his eyes searching yours. He leans in and presses a soft kiss to your cheek.

You give him a playful grin. "You missed."

Tyler's eyes widen slightly, and a mischievous smile spreads across his face. He runs his tongue across his bottom lip, clearly intrigued by your boldness. Leaning in, he meets your lips with his in a tender, lingering kiss. It's as if time stands still, the world narrowing down to just the two of you.

When you finally pull apart, Tyler's gaze remains locked on yours, a genuine smile lighting up his face. "I'll be counting the hours until I see you again," he murmurs.

With a final, meaningful look, you both part ways, each carrying the warmth of the kiss and the promise of a reunion.

[trueangel420]

Edward Philippe Mott / fem reader, you’ve resist his ‘charm’ and ignored his letters for far too long, imagine, wc 1354

You sat in the carriage, your hands grasping around your feather, swaying it in front of you as the heat of South Carolina got to you slowly but surely. You had received several letters, so many that your parents had no choice but to send you to him—Lord Edward Philippe Mott. He was a well-to-do man, in other words, wealthy beyond measure. When he moved to the middle of nowhere, he kept in touch with his only friend, you.

Many people admired Edward, men and women alike, and he was sought after. Your parents ensured you stayed connected, hoping you would wed him and provide an heir. But you wanted nothing to do with Edward in that way…. he was your childhood friend, and his erratic behavior was worrisome. The letters he wrote piled up in your drawer, leaving no room for you to even answer back, the ink in his feather lessening more and more.

As the carriage bumped along the dusty road, you loosened your corset, trying to comfort yourself from the heat. Your gown, a fine muslin dress in the latest style with short sleeves and a high waist, clung uncomfortably to your skin. You longed for the cooler mornings of home, where you could enjoy a leisurely breakfast of cornmeal mush and honey or sip on a cup of hot tea.

Arriving at Edward’s estate, you were struck by its grandeur. The house was large, built in the vintage style with tall windows and a wide veranda. Servants bustled about, and you were ushered into a parlor where a spread of refreshments awaited. There were platters of ham, sweet potato pudding, and freshly churned butter. The table was set with delicate china cups for the sweet tea.

Edward sat there, wearing an expression you had only seen before on people right before they faint. “Madam,” he whispered, his voice filled with longing and shock. He looked around the room at the maids, shooing them away immediately, his voice booming through the room.

“Leave us,” he commanded. The maids scurried out, their skirts rustling and heads bowed, leaving you alone with Edward. His eyes, usually so full of mischief, were now wide and haunted.“You’ve gotten my letters? The ink for my quill?” he asked, standing up and moving towards you, leaving only an inch between you two.

“Ah, Lord Mott—” He leaned down, eyes focusing on you as he fixed his waistcoat.

“Skip the formalities, my treasure.”

You felt a lump start to form in your throat. You had forgotten why you were here—you had to confront him about the words he wrote and the way he spoke of you. “Edward, you mustn’t send me any more letters,” you said slowly, watching his reaction.

“I will do what I please,” he snapped, though his tone remained soft as he took in your appearance. “You will stay here for a fortnight.”

“Edward, please understand,” you implored, your voice trembling. “Your words… They cause me great distress. I cherish our friendship, but your letters… they speak of things I cannot repeat.” You had only read one letter, one out of the thousands he sent—he could tell because he had spoken so loosely with his quill that he didn’t expect you to show up.

“Do you not wish to stay here with me? Am I not worthy of your affections?” His voice trembled slightly, Edward was used to getting what he wanted, and when he wanted it.

He was more than worthy to you; he was everything you had ever wanted. But it was improper. A lady such as yourself was not part of the ton—you were middle class, with no lords in your family. Yet Edward treated you as though you were like him.

“Edward, you are more than worthy,” you said softly, your voice catching. “But our worlds are different. I am not of noble birth, and to stay here with you would invite scandal.” He stepped closer, his expression earnest. “This isn’t your home, this is mine, and it is only us here. I don’t care for the ton; I don’t care about any of that, for it shall not exist if I am here with you. So stay here, please. I do not beg; I am not used to begging, but I am begging you,” he croaked, his rich dark brown eyes staring into yours intently, the same eyes that made you gasp for air.

Your resolve wavered as you looked into his eyes, feeling the depth of his emotions. “Edward, it is not that simple. My staying here could ruin your reputation, your future.”

He shook his head fiercely. “What is a future without you in it? I would rather face scandal and disgrace than live without you. You are my heart, my soul, my everything.” Tears threatened to spill from your eyes as you felt the intensity of his words. “Edward, I... may I be excused?”

“Yes, you may…” You practically bolted to the guest room at this, your hands shutting the mahogany door quickly, covering your eyes. You stayed in the room until night, carefully lighting your candles. There was something so serene about your situation—he wanted you desperately, so deeply, and you wanted him. But at what cost? What if you failed to provide an heir? What if his family frowned upon you? They liked you as his friend, but as his wife? What would people make of it?

You let your hair down, the tight curls cascading down your neck as you stared into the mirror. As you undid your corset, you heard a small knock. You looked back at the door, seeing a paper being slid underneath it. The ink was bright red, and the page only held one sentence. You slowly walked toward the paper, holding it up, your eyes reading it carefully. “When I saw you, I fell in love, and you smiled because you knew,” you read aloud, your eyes widening in disbelief at the boldness of the words.

Edward waited patiently outside the door, his curly mousy brown hair was out now devoid of that awful wig. He had changed out of his formal wear into a simple white shirt and breeches, the fabric soft against his skin. The sight of him in relaxed attire brought an unexpected warmth to your heart. He longed to burst through the door and see your reaction, but before he could gather the courage, you opened it, letting him in and shutting it firmly behind you.

“What am I to make of this?” you asked, holding the note aloft, the bright red ink glimmering in the candlelight.“Make of it that I love you,” he said simply, his eyes wandering over your figure. The sight of a lady with her hair down, the soft fabric of your nightgown flowing around you, made him feel more starved than ever before.

The dim candlelight accentuated the delicate curves of your body, he stared you down. His heart raced as he took in the moment, caught between desire and the weight of telling you how he feels.

“Make of it… that you love me?” you repeated, disbelief lacing your voice.

He nodded, moving closer, invading your space until his chest was nearly pressed against yours. “Make of it that I do. Make of it that you love me too,” he said softly.“Sans toi, je ne suis rien,” he added, his voice a tender whisper. “Tu es la lumière de ma vie.”

You felt warmth spread through you, not fully understanding his French words, but sensing the depth of his affection. The passion in his tone made your heart race. “I love you,” you said, a smile breaking across your face. The candlelight made him look almost angelic, illuminating his features in a soft glow. “Je t’aime plus que les mots ne peuvent le dire,” he breathed, finally wrapping his arms around you in a warm embrace. You melted into him, feeling safe and cherished as he wished you to be.

[lenaisagirl]

Pomni X Ragatha

Disclaimer! I wrote this on company time. Also this is the first time I've ever shared art online so be nice k thx bye! <3 As Pomni walked around in the second day of her own digital hell, she finally got a chance to note the smaller peculiarities. Music seemed to play no matter where she was. Her footsteps sounded like a royalty-free sound byte, and everything had an unnatural, plastic-y sheen to it.

This only compounded with her other anxious thoughts. What causes abstraction, anyway? How far could she indulge her insanity before she lost it completely, becoming a monster in Caine's cellar?

“Hey, Pomni? You listening?” Ragatha interrupted Pomni's internal monologue, frowning slightly with concern.

“Y-yeah I’m listening. Something about… the concession stands?” Pomni said, shocked out of her stupor. She glanced nervously side to side, looking at the landscape around her. They stood in the middle of the theme park, which was unusually empty for what it was supposed to be. The only presence was a few concession stands manned by empty-faced mannequin NPCs.

Ragatha frowned, unsatisfied with the answer. Moving to Pomni’s front, she crouched down to meet her eye level.

“Hey, new stuff?”

“I know this takes time to get used to… So if you don’t wanna do this, it's okay!” An earnest, sewn-on smile followed her words.

“No, no! This is great. And, um… I really need the company.” said the little jester, as she let out a nervous laugh. In return, Pomni received a soft pat on the head.

“Alright Pomni. I’ll be here as long as you need.” With that, she stood back up, and took a few steps back, holding out her hand to Pomni.

“R-right. That’s – I mean. Thank you.” With a tilted smile, she tentatively reached to accept her hand. While she expected Ragatha’s hand to be a dull, unnaturally smooth surface like everything else - it wasn’t? Beneath her gloves, Pomni could feel real texture, as if she was truly grabbing a ragdoll’s hand. It was a nice change of pace, and brought to her face the first genuine smile she’d had while here.

And so they exited the theme park, quiet at first. Looking towards the night half of the skybox, one could almost be convinced it was a starry night. That is - until you spun around and saw the bright-as-day portion of the skybox.

“Um… Ragatha? Where exactly are we going?” Pomni asked tentatively. It's not that she was distrustful, just shaken up from the past “adventure” and as the lakeside forest of smooth plastic looking trees grew around her, thoughts of losing her tracks crept into her mind.

“Just a little spot out in the forest. Just somewhere away from Jax – er, I mean, the stress of it all. You know.” She held her hand up to her face and chuckled.

“Just - keep it a secret, okay?” She turned around to face Pomni, smiling ever so awkwardly. A kindred spirit, Pomni smiled just as awkwardly in return.

“Well. Here it is.” Letting go of Pomni’s hand, she gestured broadly at the space around them. Really it was just a rock, one of the few bits of decoration that even existed within the forest. Oddly enough, it was actually about chair-shaped. Being so close to the island's edge, Pomni wondered if this was an unfinished overlook.

“It's nice… I think!” As far as cartoonishly digital worlds went, it wasn’t that bad of a place to be. Ragatha walked over to the rock, plopping dramatically on top of it and patting the space beside her.

Pomni, much shorter, had to jump slightly, crawling on top of the rock before taking a seat. For a moment, they simply looked onward into the skybox.

“What… what do you think you were like? Y’know. Before all this?” said Pomni cautiously. It was probably a sore spot, but nevertheless she was curious about her new friends.

“Who knows? I don’t think about it too much, uncontrollable insanity and all that.”

The jester nodded. Like she thought - a sore spot, likely for all of them. Ragatha turned her gaze away from the cliff’s edge and toward her friend.

“Maybe… A waitress? Oh, or a dancer. I'm really good on my feet!” Ragatha kicked her legs as she spoke to add emphasis.

“How about you, new stuff? Gee, I hope you don’t mind me calling you new stuff all the time.” She folded her arms, and glanced to the side.

“Nah, I kinda like it. I mean – it's nice to have a friend, is all.” Pomni looked down at her legs, kicking them slightly as she thought of who she might have been.

Did it matter? Would she ever find out? Did she want to know what kind of life she was missing out on? Her pupils started to dilate as panic rose in her system.

“Pomni? We don’t have to talk about it.”

Ragatha interrupted her panic attack – this time with a hand on the shoulder. Looking up from the ground, the poor jester's eyes welled up slightly, reflecting Ragatha’s face back at herself.

“You okay…? Need a hug, new stuff?” Looking in Ragatha's eyes, she saw a worried expression. At least if she was stuck here, there was someone who cared. Merely nodding, Pomni leaned forward, clinging to her raggedy dress fabric. Slightly surprised, Ragatha smiled, wrapping her linen hands around the poor girl.

“T-thank you.” Pomni squeaked out.

“Hey don’t even worry about it. We gotta stick together, right?” Patting Pomni on the head, she softly ruffled the jester hat.

“Right… It’ll be okay.” And for once, she believed it.