#if there are errors in here or if some of these gifs are ugly as hell - close your eyes!!!

[cactus-cuddler]

｡☆✼★━━━━𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐰𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐝━━━━━━━

Natasha Romanoff

x !female reader

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

Word count: 1444

Plot: You have been engaged to Natasha Romanoff since your penultimate year of high school and you will get married in a few months. You have only one regret in your entire relationship: not going to the prom because you were afraid to show yourself to the world for who you are.

Genre: romance, fluff

Author Note: English is not my first language so please excuse any grammatical errors/horrors. If you like it let me know and if you have any requests just write to me!

It is a cold and rainy day. You’re in your bed with your girlfriend, Natasha Romanoff, watching your favorite film for the thousandth time. Lying next to each other, she hugs you from behind, gently stroking your head. The warmth of the blankets and the comforting embrace of Natasha from behind make you feel safe and loved. You and Natasha have been engaged since the penultimate year of high school, and now, in a few months, you will be married. You can't wait. The thought of spending your life with Natasha fills you with anticipation and joy, even on dreary days like this.

Just being with Natasha can turn a rough day into a sunny one. The movie, about teenagers having their love story, ends with the prom where the protagonists are crowned “King and Queen of the party.” It reminds you of when you were that age and didn’t attend the prom with your girlfriend because you were afraid. You hadn’t come out yet, and the thought of not being able to kiss or dance with your girlfriend made you decide not to go. This is one of your biggest regrets, you would have liked to be more courageous but you wanted to deprive yourself and your girlfriend of a magical moment.

You look sad, wishing you could have lived that teenage love without hiding. Natasha notices and asks, "is there something wrong?” you just say “no,” shaking your head. What’s important now is that you have the love of your life here with you. She’s not convinced, but she doesn’t insist. She leaves a kiss on your forehead and holds you tighter.

。·:*:·ﾟ★,。·:*:·ﾟ☆。·:*:·ﾟ★,。·:*:·ﾟ☆

You fall asleep before the movie finishes, and Natasha wakes you up.

"Wake up, sleepyhead," Natasha teases, gently tickling your nose to rouse you from your slumber. You blink groggily, your eyes meeting hers.

"Good morning, pirozhóchek,” she says, and you melt. This nickname means “little cake.” She loves cake, and she loves you, so you’re her little cake. “Good morning, darling,” you say rubbing your eyes.

“Today we’re going shopping!” she announces.

“You hate shopping,” you remind her.

“I know, but there’s a special dinner with my team, and someone told me I can’t go in my uniform,” she says with a smile. You recognize the hint (you are that someone) and agree to go shopping with her.

After breakfast, you get dressed and head out. Walking hand-in-hand through your little town, you feel at ease knowing everyone now knows about your relationship. The sky is clear, and the sun is shining. You insisted on walking instead of taking the car so you could enjoy the beautiful day, look at shop windows, watch children playing, and pet some stray kittens.

There is a small store that sells pretty dresses at good prices. The shop is charming, decorated with plants and flowers that fill the air with a lovely scent. Natasha gives you free rein to choose a dress for her, and you’re excited. You’ve never seen her in a pretty dress since you met. You carefully look at the dresses, searching for the one that makes you think, “This is the dress for her.” Natasha walks close by hands in her pockets. When she sees some guys looking at you, she takes your hand to make it clear that you’re hers. You smile at her every time.

“Do I have such an ugly body that there's nothing that would fit me?” she asks, tired. “You have the opposite problem. You’re too beautiful, and no dress would do you justice,” you reply determined to find the perfect dress. Your eyes land on THE dress. It’s perfect for her. It stands out from the others, its design and color scheme seeming tailor-made for Natasha's unique beauty.

“I won’t wear that,” she protests, but you don’t listen. You take her hand and lead her to the dressing rooms. When she comes out, you can only say, “Wow.” She’s gorgeous.

“You’re beautiful,” you say in a faint voice. “I can’t go around dressed like this. I look like a princess who needs to be saved, and I’m the one who saves others” she says. You approach her, making your noses touch.

“For once, you will be my princess,” you tell her, and she smiles at you. You share a small kiss on the lips, and she goes to change and pay for the dress.

"For you, anything," she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper.

。·:*:·ﾟ★,。·:*:·ﾟ☆。·:*:·ﾟ★,。·:*:·ﾟ☆

After lunch, she says she has to work, leaving you alone at home. Sundays are usually your days together, the only day you don’t have to work. It makes you sad, but you know Natasha’s work is important. You decide to put on your favorite music and eat your favorite ice cream to keep your Sunday happy and lazy. Someone knocks at the door. You hope it’s Natasha, even though you know it’s impossible. There’s a package in front of the door, addressed to you. You haven’t ordered anything online, and Natasha didn’t mention it, but curiosity gets the better of you, and you open it. Inside, you find a golden letter and a dress. Not just any dress, but the one you would have worn to the prom years ago. The only person who knows about that dress is Natasha. Your smile can’t be any bigger. You open the letter and find a prom invitation:

“For students who attended this school year, you are all invited to participate in the prom.”

At first, you think it must be a joke or a mistake, but the second piece of paper in the envelope reveals you have the best girlfriend in the world: “Thank you for coming to prom with me. I’ll pick you up tonight at 7:00.” It’s only two hours till 7:00, and you’re a mess! If only she had told you earlier.

You’ve never prepared so quickly before. When the doorbell finally rings, you're putting the finishing touches on your ensemble, a nervous excitement bubbling within you. With a deep breath, you open the door to find Natasha standing before you, radiant in the dress you had chosen together, a single red rose in her hand.

“Such a beautiful lady,” she says, handing you the flower. She offers you her hand, and you take it. Together, you head to her car, where she plays the songs you used to listen to in high school, bringing back fond memories.

“Where are we going?” you ask, noticing the unfamiliar route.

“It’s a surprise,” she replies, and you hum along to the songs. She parks in front of a beautiful park and blindfolds you, carefully leading you inside. When she lets you see, you’re in the middle of a meadow, surrounded by balloons, speakers, and a stage. Just the two of you.

The sky paints a stunning backdrop with shades of yellow, orange, and purple, and the dim sunlight adds a romantic touch to your little corner of the world.

“I know it’s not the same because there’s no one else, but I wanted you to be able to dance at your prom too,” she says, starting the music with a remote control. “Will you allow me this dance?” You hug and kiss her passionately before starting to dance to the notes of “My Love Mine All Mine.” She gently caresses your back while you dance, and you hold her tight as if nothing could ever separate you. After the dance, she goes on stage and pulls out a crown and a microphone from a box you hadn’t noticed.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I’d like your attention,” she says, looking straight into your eyes.

“It’s time to name the king or queen of the ball.” She pauses for dramatic effect, then announces, “The queen is you,” inviting you on stage to crown you. You share a kiss that leaves you breathless, stopping occasionally to look at each other and smile.

“Anyway, I was tempted to give the crown to that squirrel,” she whispers pointing to a squirrel that was in a tree near you making you laugh.

“You’re still in time,” you tease, and Natasha laughs.

“I think it’s the best prom I’ve ever attended. Thank you so much, sweetheart. I love you.”

“I love you too, pirozhóchek.” The wind gently caresses your hair as you continue to dance, this time on the stage, the clinking of your heels accompanying the music. Time passes, but you don’t notice it. Your bodies are touching, your hands intertwined, and your love uniting you is all you need at this moment.

[angel-of-the-moons]

Doppelgänger

Miguel x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: Angst, self-image issues, mentions of childhood trauma, addiction, our mans has had it rough as fuck™

A/N: Brought on by this post from @tarjapearce and the comments i made (I'm sorry i am a ho for some angst sometimes) I'm merging ATSV stuff with comic stuffs because NO WAY IS HIS MOVIE DESIGN LIKE THAT ON PURPOSE WITHOUT IT POSSIBLY COMING UP IN FUTURE MOVIES ASDFGHJKL

Taglist: @tojishugetiddies

🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷

You came home and it was quiet. Quiet and dark; and already you knew something was up. You left Miguel sleeping so you could attend to some meetings and paperwork at your office, and pick up a few groceries.

Miguel had been acting strange the past few days. You'd asked him if it had something to do with work and he simply shrugged the question aside, like it was a small chip on one of his broad shoulders.

You'd asked him what was bothering him again, and he simply stared at the carpet, muttering something you didn't quite catch, and he went straight to bed.

You were so worried you'd even texted Gabriel on your walk home:

Hey, Gabe...

Heyyyy! If it ain't my favorite brother's girlfriend!

You couldn't help but roll your eyes with a soft snort. You only have one brother, Gabe.

No no, chica, I meant that you're my favorite of any girlfriends he's ever had. 😂

Gabe that sounds a little... Bad. 😬

Does it? Woops! Anyways, what's up? My big dumb, brick-house brother do something to make you mad?

No, Gabe... He's acting weird. Has been for the past few days, and he won't open up to me. I'm worried.

You could see the chat bubble pop up over and over again with '...' signifying that he was in the process of texting. With how many times it popped up and went away you were expecting a bible scripture's length of a text wall.

But what you got instead made your heart sink.

He saw our mom. She... She brought up Tyler.

Oh, god. You knew that Miguel and Conchata had a rocky relationship. Miguel had told you why. It was so bad, even just recalling everything, that you felt Miguel's pain like it was your own.

You also knew that Miguel's biological father, Tyler Stone, was the one that manipulated him, that used him, got him addicted to Rapture and almost killed him...

But it wasn't even the real dose of Rapture. It was simulated. Just another manipulation tactic. It was overhearing that conversation that Miguel found out the truth of his heritage, and you could tell that nugget of knowledge permanently chipped his sense of identity.

Even moreso when he confessed to you about Gabriela--

Your phone pinged.

They fought. It was... It was ugly. I... I didn't know about Tyler. God, chica, I didn't know. Dad was...

You felt your heart flop, knowing poor Gabriel was shielded by Miguel for so long so he didn't have to suffer like he did at the hands of their gaslighting and manipulative mother, his sadistic sperm donor... Miguel wanted nothing more than to protect Gabriel from that pain.

Your fingers flew fast on the little keyboard, a few spelling errors here and there;

God, Gabri im sory you had to fidn out that way

I know. It figures Miguel would have told you, before me, tho. He loves you.

He loves you too, Gabri. God, more than you know. He loves you.

I know. He was trying to keep me safe and out of Mom's drama.

No offense, Gabri, but if I ever see that woman I'm rearranging her face with a shovel.

OMG. I mean... After the things she said to Miggy, I... Kind of want her to at least feel consequences of her actions, y'know?

Oh, she will. Don't worry. Thanks for telling me this, Gabri.

Go cuddle my big brother and tell him I love him, k? Let me know how he's doing.

OMW home now, I'll text you when he's feeling better.

KK, see ya.

🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷

Yeah. You knew for sure Miguel was still heartbroken when you came home after that.

You put the groceries away, a somber expression on your face as a million thoughts went through your head.

God, of course Conchata had to come see Gabriel at the same time Miguel was there. You wouldn't be surprised if either she could have tabs kept on him, just to... to try and lord her power over him somehow, like he was still that scared little boy, holding onto his baby brother, being his shield and buffer from their parents' fights.

That bitch had to have had a hand in Tyler using him the way that he did, that she had to have known about--

Your mind was knocked away from those dark thoughts when you heard glass shatter.

You dropped the bag of apples onto the ground, the fruits tumbling out and rolling across the floor as you made a mad dash to your bedroom.

Noting Miguel wasn't in there, you turned to the adjoining bathroom door, seeing faint light come down from below, small wafts of steam rolling out.

"Miguel?" You frantically called out, knocking on the door and leaning your ear against the smooth metal.

You could hear shuffling and the tinkling of glass shards, as well as the shower running; but no verbal reply.

You knocked on the door again, hurried and a little too hard, your fingers hovering over the control panel.

Before you could push a button, the door slid open.

Miguel was in nothing but a pair of boxers, leaning over your bathroom sink, his hands gripping the marble countertops, threatening to crack the material. Beads of water rolled down his muscular, tanned skin; droplets of water dripped from the ends of his thick, wavy chocolate locks, the natural curls more apparent thanks to the water.

That's when you noticed it. Your bathroom mirror, shattered into a hundred pieces, scattering the counter, floor, and in the sink.

Bright, scarlet droplets were on the floor, steadily building into small puddle from his right hand, his knuckles split, shards of the reflective material sticking out of it.

"I'll pay for it." His voice croaked out, unable to lift his eyes to meet your horrified gaze. "I just--"

"Oh, god! Miggy!" You breathed, reaching out, taking a step towards him, only to wince and hiss when the pieces of broken mirror stabbed the soft, delicate soles of your feet.

You gritted your teeth as the glass crunched, but you grabbed Miguel.

Instantly it was like a switch flipped inside of him, Miguel's head snapped up and he looked down at you, seeing the bloody footprints you now left on your tile.

He looked terrified at what he was seeing. How you just ignored the shards in your body in favor of frantically digging around one of the cabinets for your first aid kit.

"Bebita... I..." Miguel choked out.

When you found it, you killed the shower and stepped into the glass once again, pulling him into your room, and onto your bed, your feet leaving bloody prints as you walked, like macabre rose petals being left in your wake. Miguel had a large enough stride that he was careful to avoid getting any in his feet, but the smell of your blood permeated the air, it made him sick to his stomach. Not with disgust.

With guilt.

Of course, you checked him over first, plucking out the shards of glass from his knuckles and cleaning the cuts out with wound wash, ignoring the blood welling up onto the tile floor of your bedroom from.

You carefully roll his hand as you try to wrap the gauze around his knuckles. "Miggy, can you hold your--"

"I'm sorry." He interrupts.

You looked up at him, and only then do you see his face. Framed in his wet curls, his face was shadowed and haunted, his eyes dark and as tumultuous in a maelstrom of anxiety and fear.

You bring your hand to his cheek, caressing one of his sharp cheekbones with your thumb. "Baby, it's okay. It's just a mirror, I can--"

He shook his head, as if your touch to his face burned him like a hot iron.

He leaned over, grabbing your legs and pulling your feet into his lap so he can assess the damage, and return the favor of cleaning and dressing them.

"You're hurt because of me." He whispered sadly, dabbing the blood away.

"I'm hurt because of the glass, honey." You tell him gently, letting him apply the "honey" to the cuts in your feet, sealing them.

His massive hands encapsulated your ankles, his thumbs rubbing small circles as the rough pads caressed your skin. Like you were made of the delicate gossamer of a butterfly's wing.

He sits like that, not meeting your eyes. And god, did that hurt you so badly. You knew how important eye contact was with Miguel, he almost always went out of his way to keep eye contact when he was conversing with someone. Having him avoid your eyes... hurt.

Because you knew he was hurting.

"Miggy." You breathed. "Talk to me."

You move your feet from his lap and scoot closer to him, moving your face until he locked eyes with you again, and you could see the pain and the tears fill his own as he looked at you; his full, pouty lips trembling in an effort to hold his emotions at bay.

His shoulders dropped low, and Miguel leans forward until he was practically bent in half, clinging to you, burying his face in your chest as he fisted your shirt in his hands.

You rubbed his shoulder with one hand, biting your lip as he softly cried into your blouse, your other hand combing through his messy wet hair.

You stayed like that, for what felt like hours. You weren't sure how long it was exactly, with the blackout curtains drawn and the lights off. The only light that dimly illuminated the room was from your bathroom, and the open door.

He finally calmed enough to speak, to explain why he shattered the mirror.

"...I look like him." Miguel said, his heart in his voice, his soul stripped down and naked with raw pain.

"Mig--"

"God, I look like him. That... that cabrón." He hissed, tugging your shirt in his fists.

"I look like that bastard that... that made me into this." The self-contempt in his voice broke your heart.

You kiss the top of his head, murmuring against him. "No, you don't, baby."

"Yes, I do!" He snapped, pulling himself away from you and throwing himself to his feet. He paced like an angry tiger in a cage, waiting to swat at whatever keeper dared enter his enclosure. He didn't notice that he was stepping into the sticky, dried blood trails you left.

"I have his--his face. His fucking face--" He said, gripping his hair in his hands, tugging as he started to hyperventilate. "My fucking nose, my fucking cheeks, my fucking lips--they're all him! I'm not allowed to be me, every time I look in the mirror I see him! I can't ever get away from him! He's a part of me, he always will be! I fucking look like him!"

You get to your feet, ignoring the throbbing in your soles as you dared to reach out, to touch the pacing tiger.

Your hands smooth up his back, gently, softly; then back down until they wrapped around his mid-section.

You feel him, how tense he is, how his muscles flex at your touch almost like he's bracing himself for some kind of blow that simply will never come from you.

You rest your cheek against his back, feeling how hot his skin was burning.

"Baby. You don't look like him. You aren't him, and you never will be." You whisper.

You plant kisses wherever you could reach, not letting him go, feeling his body shake with each shuddering breath as your soft lips made contact.

"More importantly, Tyler will never be you."

"I--"

You cut him off. "Listen to me... Did Tyler figure out multi-dimensional travel, build a strike force of super-powered people from across the multiverse? Does Tyler, almost every day, work to keep dozens--no, hundreds--of universes safe from monsters?"

He didn't answer.

"And did Tyler Stone protect your baby brother from your mother all these years?"

No answer.

"You are Miguel-goddamn-O'Hara." You tell him. "I love you, with trauma, quirks and all. I love your little scritch-scratches you make, the way your bottom lip pokes out when you pout, your crooked teeth when you smile. I love your ridiculously large body, I love how you hug me. I love the little snores you make when you fall asleep at your desk, how you crinkle your nose when you're about to sneeze.."

You feel his hands slowly rise to touch your arms where they're almost-locked around his larger frame.

"I love how sweet and gentle you are. I love hearing you curse to yourself when you shock yourself with your soldering gun... I love listening to you bicker with Lyla, or complain about one of the other Spiders bugging you." You place more kisses after each sentence; hoping each one plants a seed of love beneath his skin, to bloom into a garden that he can admire and love, not hate for the very skin he was born with out of illegitimacy and infidelity.

"Tyler Stone is not you. He never will be. He will never be as good as you." You sigh against his skin, feeling the goosebumps form in the cold of your room, now that the adrenaline of his anxiety was beginning to fade, and his body became aware of the water that was slowly drying and cooling his skin.

"I love you, Miguel O'Hara. You and no-one else. Don't ever think for a second that you don't have your own identity because of your genes."

He slowly turns in your grasp, looking down at you with raw, unclothed emotion as his hand touches your cheek.

"You're more than that. You're you, and I wouldn't have you any other way." You say, your tone set and jaw tight; every word you spoke carrying a hefty weight of seriousness and honesty.

He smiles, almost sadly as you feel the rough pads of his thumb against your cheek, the little talon there poking you but not breaking the skin.

"...I..." He said, his voice stiff as he swallows the lump in his throat.

"I really will pay for your mirror, you know."

You grin up at him and turn your face so you can kiss the palm of his hand.

"I know you will, Miggy."

"But I am curious... I felt like you were going to keep going with the affirmations." He said, raising an eyebrow slowly.

"Well, the last one..."

"The last one?" Miguel tilted his head down at you quizzically.

You grin at him again, your teeth showing and eyes creasing as you barely manage to reach around him, swatting his ass playfully.

"I also love the fact you have the nicest ass I've ever seen on a man."

He couldn't contain the snort that came out of him, and he reached up to cover his whole face with his other hand.

"Mierda..."

You giggle as you step around him, giving a playful swat to his ass once again as you walk by.

"C'mon, Miguel O'Hara. You got a broken mirror to clean up."

His shoulders lifted as he watched you, his eyes softer than you've ever seen as he smiled.

Yeah. You were right.

He was Miguel O'Hara.

And he was certainly going to pay you back for the smacks to his ass.

[theplanetsandstars]

Touch. F.W

A/n: this is very short and rushed but I needed it out of my drafts. English isn’t my first language and I apologize for any grammar errors. This is shit angst but that’s what I love <3

Summary: You and Fred have been dating for a couple of months. Now that it’s public he’s acting less affectionate towards you, why?

Fred Weasley was unlike anyone you had been with before. Those who had you before only wanted your body, not your heart. The showed you off like a prized possession instead of treasuring you. But Fred was caring and told you to express you’re feelings and never hold anything from him. That he was there for you for all you’re pretty and all you’re ugly he would stick around, that’s what he would say. That was even before your relationship with him went public he was so sweet.So why wasn’t he the same around his friends?

Sure around yours he was touchy-super touchy. Always had his hand on you no matter what, whether in was on you’re thigh, the small of you’re back or even just snakes around you’re body that was his love language, physical touch. It scared you at first the touch, because it usually came with intentions. But with Fred it was different, it was affectionate.

So of course it meant something to you when he almost refused to touch you when his friends were around.

One day you were going off to hogesmade with you’re friends and without Fred, just a girls day. But you knew that he would be out with his brother and friends as well. When you entered the three broomsticks with youre friends you immediately recognized the red head sitting with his friends in the far back corner he simply smiled at you. No big hug or even just a wave just a smile which you didn’t return back

Luckily you’re friends helped you forget all about it but, that’s wasn’t enough of a distraction to prevent you from seeing him wave at some blonde Gryffindor who walked in. That’s the first time an instance like this has happened and even though it bothered you to you’re core, there was no point in arguing with him, you didn’t want to be a bother.

About a week later you were heading to one of his quidditch matches cheering as loudly as you could for you’re boyfriend. Once it was over Gryffindor had won, as expected you were so excited and proud of you’re boyfriend who had worked so hard for this. You rushed to the outside of the changing rooms to wait for him where many other people were waiting as well. “Hey! Who are you here for?” You heard a girl ask you turned and saw the blonde who Fred waved to from the three broomsticks you smiled at her “Hey! I actually here for Fred” you said and hee smile dropped a little “oh I didn’t know Freddie had a girlfriend” she said and that made you’re heart drop

Not only at the nickname but also at the fact that they’ve probably talked and hung out but he’s never mentioned you or the fact that he has a girlfriend? You needed to leave you could not see him when you were like this, reafy to argue and yell at him but he’s cluleless and just won a match you thought. It’s better to simply distance yourself for right now. With that in mind you turned around and pushed through the crowd of people and ran back to you’re dorm.

Unbeknownst to you Fred did look for you. Looked everywhere high and low wasn’t listening to what anyone was saying because he was trying to find his girl. Once he couldn’t find you he saw Aubrey, the blonde Gryffindor girl and decided to talk with her all the way back to the Gryffindor common room where again, you were no where to be found. Fred was starting to get irritated just wanting to find you and be in Youre arms. He turned to Audrey who kept talking about quidditch match “hey have you seen y/?” He asked interrupting her mid sentence “uh yeah she was waiting for you outside the locker rooms but then she just left” a frown appeared on Fred’s face you wouldn’t just leave like that you had reason “uh any chance she said where she was going?” He asked and Sophia simply shook her head no

Fred decided to look for you in you’re dorm knocking anxiously “Hey love it’s me open up please” you had been crying in Youre dorm but you couldn’t let me know that “one sec!” You called out as you quickly composed yourself and cleaned up you’re dorm a bit “hi Fred” you said once you opened the door. He just looked down at you and admired you, although it had only been a couple of hours he missed you so much. He bent down to kiss you but you turned you’re head the other way “um Fred I’m really not in the mood, I’m really tired” you said while looking down.

He flashed a sad smile at you “no intention dove I wanted to kiss you just to kiss you” he placed two fingers under you’re chin and brought you to look at him, but tears were slowly forming in you’re eyes. Once Fred noticed this he immediately started wiping You’re tears. “Hey hey love, it’s just me you’re okay it’s okay” you turned around ashamed that you allowed yourself to cry in front of him “M’fine im sorry im just-I don’t Even have a reason to be crying” you tried to laugh it off while Fred simply soothed you and brought you to sit down on the edge of you’re bed.

“Love I know you said it’s nothing and it’s fine if it’s nothing but it doesn’t seem like that, no one cries for no reason, so talk to me please, I’m always here for you” you tried you’re best to smile at him “m’fine i promise i don’t know hormones or something but I’m fine” you lied, he looked disappointed he knew you were hiding something and he just wanted you to tell him “so why weren’t you outside the locker room then like you said you’d be?” Fuck, lie quick “I wasn’t feeling very good I actually left a little before the game ended” you lied again but Fred didn’t want to pressure you any further.

“Okay c’mon let’s go to sleep” he said with a smile on his face. You two had gotten accustomed to leaving you’re belongings in each others dorm. You just smiled and nodded while he made his lips meet you’re temple before getting ready to sleep.

———-

The next day you woke up and reached for Fred, wanting to feel comforted. Only thing was that he was gone, he left before you had gotten up. Even though you guys didn’t have a sex you wondered why you felt used, off. But you got up and got ready for you’re day.

“Hey y/n!” Luna smile at you “hey Luna how are you?” You asked her and her smile dropped “i should be asking you that don’t you think?” You loved Luna but sometime you truly had no idea what she was talking about “what?” You politely asked. “Oh well I simply thought that you’re boyfriend leaving early in the morning from you’re dorm to hang out with Sophia wasn’t a very nice thing to do” Sophia, the blonde Gryffindor, what the fuck was he doing with her? “Oh I didn’t even realize” you told Luna and she simply frowned and walked away

You went through you’re day wondering what you had done to fuck things up with Fred. We’re you too much? Too hard to love? Or not enough and that’s why he spent so much time with Sophia. You’re thoughts were interrupted by Harry, “Hey y/n you alright? You seem a bit well, off” you put on a smile “yeah yeah im fine what’s up with you?” You asked “okay well you better be alright Fred said you were going to the party with him tonight” he said happily. Harry had always been a good friend so of course he didn’t realize what he’d said would affect you. “Oh. Oh yeah! Um of course I’ll be there” you said catching yourself. You and Harry continued walking through the halls when you saw Fred with his group of friends.

You’re face dropped and you stopped waking. “Um I’ll meet up with you later Harry alright?” You told him before turning away, but it was too late Fred had already spotted you and excused himself to go after you.

“Love wait up!” He called out but you continued walking.But of course Fred’s height and legs helped him watch up to you rather quickly he stood in front of you looking down to meet you’re eyes but you couldn’t look at him. Trying to escape you tried to go around him but he quickly caught you.

“Hey is this a joke? Cause it isn’t fucking funny what’s wrong?” He asked concerned “It’s nothing Fred I’m just trying to get to class go back to you’re friends yeah?” You told him “no no you’re not trying to get to class you’re trying to get away from me so can I at least know what I did?” He asked now pleading praying that you would tell him, but you didn’t if you were already too much why keep bothering him?

“It’s nothing to do with you okay? I’ve just been super stressed lately is all” you told him calmly finally getting the courage to look up at him. He frowned a little “okay dove is there anyway I can help, you know I could do you’re muffle studies homework for you” he offered “no I just need to resolve this on my own thanks though” you said with a slight smile. “ I hate to see my pretty girl like this okay? So truly if there’s anything you need love I’m here okay?” He reassured you, you simply nodded and said you’re goodbyes.

Walking through the halls all you could think of was how he called you “my girl”. If you truly were his why did he barely let anyone know? Why didn’t he show you off around his friends but was completely fine with touching you behind closed doors. Why didn’t he mention going to the party, one that he’d told Harry that you’d both attend?

How had you now ended up at that same party looking for you’re boyfriend. You decided to go to the party and finally explain to Fred you’re feelings and actions. You prepared yourself for the worst.

Even after preparing yourself-you got scared. As soon as you got to the part you started taking drinks swearing it was for “courage”.In reality at this point in the night you were trying not to see him

The common room was loud, lights and people everywhere. Fred? Nowhere to be found. He really never was going to tell you about the party. So imagine his surprise to see you

“Love?” He asked from behind you, you could smell the alcohol on his breath. Or was it yours? You were unaware at this point.

“Im so happy your here! Come say hi to everyone” he exclaimed. His face fell once he saw tears run down your cheeks.

“You don’t want me Fred. You don’t want me around your friends, so.. I don’t want you around me at all.” You whispered

Fred looked confused. Had he heard you? You didn’t stick around long enough to find out before bolting out of the common room.

———————————————————————

You woke up in Fred’s bed, how? Once you opened your eyes and realized where you were you freaked out, but the pounding in your head was enough to make you stay in his bed. He was in the shower, you had enough time to run out but you decided now or never.

He walked out of his bathroom with only a towel around his waist. “G’morning love, you doing alright?” You just smiled at him as he got dressed and then sat beside you.

“So, do you wanna talk about last night?” You made eye contact with him and nodded slowly. “Fred yesterday was not the way I wanted things to go but I do believe I meant what I said.” He looked confused “so you don’t want me around you?” Just the thought brought tears to your eyes.

“Fred I may just be dramatic but I tried to ignore it I really did, I tried to ignore the way you wouldn’t hold me around your friends, the way you never invited me around them, God I tried to ignore Sophia and how you act with her but I just can’t!” You sobbed

“Sophia? The way I act with Sophia? Love please explain I’m begging to understand you take deep breaths okay?” He said softly. That was enough to make you hide your hand in your face as you cried. “Hey, hey no let me see your pretty face, take your time. Deep breaths my love”

“Fred you know how I’ve been treated in the past , the whole physical affection thing. But you never touch me around your friends. I’m sure you don’t mean to do it to hurt me but holding me, showing me off or something would be nice.” You confessed while looking at the bed sheets, looking up to see him with a soft smile on his face.

“I love holding you alone as much as I love holding you in front of others. I have no problem holding you in front of my friends I just fought you didn’t want it! I know how you’ve been treated and I would never want to show you off like an object. Then I thought you would feel obligated for me to touch you so I’d retract. From now on I promise to always hold you in front of my friends, anyone, fuck even the entire world okay? I just need you.” He declared

“All I need is you.” He reassured

“Then what about Sophia?” You asked with your insecurities taking the best of you.

“What about her?” He asked confused

“You’ve been spending a lot of time with her lately, talking to her and acknowledging her more in public than me.” You said with a frown on your face

“You even left your dorm with me in it the other day to go to her!” You exclaimed

“Your right I have been doing those things, if I can be mean with you for one sec darling she’s been annoying me. I don’t really enjoy any other girls company besides yours. So the other day I left our dorm early” he corrected “ so I could tell her to fuck off, just more politely of course”

You laughed, your tears had stopped, Fred always knew how to do that. How to make you feel better.

“So am I still yours pretty girl?” You laughed and kissed him in response

———————————————————————Today you were supposed to go to hogesmade with Fres friends. You walked in together, hand in hand. He made sure everyone said hello to you and most importantly. His hand was on you at all times.

[chixkencxrry]

kiss goodnight

Summary: Miguel breaks into your apartment. NSFW.

Miguel O’Hara x Fem! Reader

Warnings: MINORS DNI. they’re both insane. Blood play. Fingering. P in V. Dirty talk. Mutual degradation. Mutual bad behavior. I wrote this instead of sleeping, so there WILL be errors.

His hands rested on your hips, fingers sprawled has he touched as much as he could, the rough skin of his palms feeling, feeling. You closed your eyes, taking a deep breathe. The scent of the lavender candles you’d lit seemed overwhelming. His lips whispered on your skin, begging alms with his want of you.

“Miguel…” you murmured, making fists of your hands. “How did you get into my apartment?”

“You forgot to lock your spare room window.” He mumbled, hands rucking up his t-shirt you’d been sleeping in, cupping the globes of your ass. His fingers massaged the flesh, groping it as he kissed your clavicle.

You groaned, hands now pressing onto his massive shoulders. “I changed my locks for a reason.”

“Hmm.” He hummed, nipping at your neck. “The reason being you’re a brat.”

At that, you almost giggled, but you stayed strong for a full minute before he kissed you. His lips soft and tongue seeking, he tasted of beer and his mouth was a familiar spark of desire. You hadn’t been a brat. Well, at least not by your standard. Miguel hadn’t spoken to you in over a week so you reacted sanely. If you’d really want to be a brat, you’d have burnt his precious Spider Quarters or whatever nerdy name he’d called that ugly ass skyscraper downtown . But no. You’d been sweet. Merely changing the locks and throwing out the apology lilies he’d sent you in day five.

Biting down on his lower lip, you drew blood, making him pull back and red eyes glared at you. At his faux anger, you giggled. Mouth stained with blood.

“Brat.” He cursed, hands pulling themselves off your body to rip the t-shirt from you. “I knew you were naked under here. You were just waiting for me to come in here and fuck you like some deranged psycho?”

“Like?” You mocked, sucking tour lower lip to taste his blood. Your hands ran down the length of his bare torso, down to the waistband of his shorts. The crazy bastard had climbed into your bed in his underwear. “Baby, you are a deranged psycho.”

He growled, resting a hand on your mound whilst his fingers rubbed your centre. He rubbed the growing dampness all around before he began to target your clit with his index and pointer. Miguel smirked down at you as your breath slowly hitched. He kept a circular motion, watching you twitch and shiver. So weak for him. So responsive. He’d fuck you all night for your attitude and mark you warm him cock all morning.

Miguel grinned when you gasped as his index finger slipped inside you. “You’ve been playing with this pussy while I’ve been gone?”

Through your lashes you teased. “What else was I suppose to do?”

“Fuck,” he muttered. Thumb pressing against your clit. “Insatiable slut, you couldn’t hold off for a week.”

“Fuck you.” You mumbled with less confidence as he added a second finger and your orgasm neared. Fuck him and his big ass fingers. Your vibrator had been a loyal friend for the past few days. “You didn’t even call.”

He sped up, the moment growing closer as you grinder on his hand. “Liar. You didn’t answer.”

“That’s not…ah…that’s not…oh my god…fuck…Miguel…” stars dotted your vision as he dragged your orgasm from you. Even his fingers did you better than your loyal little vibrator. Not that you’d ever tell him that.

“Pathetic. You didn’t even last long enough for another finger.” He condemned, pulling your hips close to his and unfurling himself. Miguel let the heavy warm rod rub against you, dragging the tip along the length of your pussy. You bit your lip, finger nails dragging along his stomach to the root of his member. You watched as he teased it, hissing as the sensitive head went in and out of your weeping centre. The feeling making you tremble.

“Look at that,” he mumbled, watching your essence coat him. “This pussy missed me, huh?”

Flickering between want and rage, you spat at him but screamed a moment after when he filled you to hilt. “Jesus!”

“So fucking arrogant.” He snapped, hand winding itself in your hair. “You’re going to pay for that.”

You couldn’t even speak. The bed rocked as he fucked his thick cock into you, spreading and burning through you with quick, deep thrusts. Miguel’s teeth grazed your neck as he pulled your hair back, teeth in your skin. When they broke the barrier, you cried out, muffled by your own sobbing from his pace.

“Good girl,” he praised. “Taking my cock so good. Fuck, you’re so wet.”

Your nails scraped at his skin, filling beneath them with dirt and blood. You tried to hold onto something for sanity. Clenching round him, a jolt of pleasure went through you as he groaned in your ear. Miguel kissed you, tasting his blood in your mouth and you tasted his anger. Good, you thought, he should feel half as angry as you had.

The bed creaked and slammed into the wall with a steady tattoo. It created a song, creak, slam, creak, slam. Your hands went down his back, gripping the firm cushion of his buttock as he fucked into you. His fingers went between the tight space of your bodies to your clit and began to rub the swollen organ.

Between the passage of his thickness going deep and harsh into you, and his steady rub that began to build, you were powerless. Eyes burning of tears, you wept to your second orgasm.

“You look pretty when you cry in my cock. Look at that little face, crying like a good dirty whore.” He spat but his face was kind in the dark as he kissed your tears, licking the salt clean. Miguel’s hips began to move again, making you cry some more in subtle pain. This seemed to egg him on more. “I’m going to fuck you broken.”

masterlist

[lopsicle]

We’ll Take Care Of You

TickleTober Day 8, Exposed Body Part

Characters: Lee! Vox, Ler! Velvette, Ler! Valentino (Romantic, polycules give me life), Zestial (Background/Implied Zestmilla).

Summary: Vox gets injured during a fight with other overlords; Vel and Val help treat his injuries.

Warnings: Fighting, Blood, injuries, scars, Valentino.

•••

Blood. Vox couldn’t tell from where it was pouring, his whole body felt like it was trying to rip itself apart, the distinctive sting in his abdomen clued him in though. The way his leg wobbled beneath him also wasn’t a good sign, he couldn’t keep himself supported for long, his knees hit the pavement. Fuck, why was there broken glass there’s?! Oh right, from his screen. It has been shattered, a large, ugly crack covering his right eye.

He might’ve convinced himself he was on a bad trip with the way his sight was glitching out, different shapes and colours all buzzing in his vision, much like the ones you’d see flashing on an error screen, worsening his throbbing headache. Weakly, a swarm of wires emerged from behind him, crackling with electricity. He lunged his arm forward, commanding them to ram into his assailant, who side stepped easily.

“Thou hath grown weaker since the disappearance of The Radio Demon.” Zestial commented, making his screen flash with a furious, cyan blue brilliance. Vox’s eyes shot open, well, his one good eye did, Zestial had created a sizeable crack over his over one.

“Tell me, art I noht worthy enough to be a challenge to thou?” Zestial asked, his lanky figure looming over Vox, seeming much bigger than it ever had before. Vox stares up at those soulless, toxic, feeling much like a fly caught in Zestial’s web.

“Jesus, y-you proved your point..” Vox managed to muster enough strength to speak, though it was muffled beneath all his static and glitching. Zestial tilted his head, leaning down to examine Vox, his suit torn with sweet, blue liquid pouring from his wounds, face destroyed and humiliated. Zestial smiled and returned to his full height.

“It appears that I have. I hope this serves as a reminder to thou of whom the real overlords of this realm are. Do not think about spitting poison in the direction of Carmilla again in my presence.” Zestial warned him, though Vox wasn’t listening. His audio receptors were too clogged with his own blood. It was only when Zestial began to walk away, leaving the shivering, pained man behind that he reached for his phone with upmost need, even if his movements were weak and limp, like a skeleton clinging to their own grave. A ringing filled the silence around him, answered almost immediately.

“Vox, where-fuck, what happened to you?! Where are you?!” Velvette bellowed on the other end, her stern look boiling away to concern. Vox squinted at her with his good eye and smiled, relaxing his muscles, not having any remaining strength in his body.

“Hey Vel,” his voice came out uncharacteristically weak and tiny, “you look beautiful.” He mumbled, Velvette’s worried, frantic cries for an explanation fading away as his world blinked into darkness.

When Vox came to, he felt like shit. Not as shitty as before, there were no burning pains in his body, just mostly sore. The world around him felt soft and a quick glance around revealed him to be back in his room, though it looked a little different. On his bedside drawer were various types of bandages, cotton balls and ointments, iodines, peroxides and such, along with some medicine and…was that a card? Vox squinted at it. “Get Well Soon,” apparently from his assistant Papermint. Well, that didn’t explain why he was here-

Oh right. The fight. Ugh, did Velvette really see him like that, all injured and gross and sappy? Vox sighed at the thought, before pulling up the covers slightly to take a look at his body. His thigh had been thoroughly bandaged up, so comfortable he hadn’t even noticed until now. His shoes and shirt were gone, revealing a good few scars littered across his torso, precise and thin. Zestial’s nails. That fucking eight legged was freak was going to get what was coming to him, Vox was sure of that at least. He didn’t have long to linger on the thought though, due to the sound of incoming footsteps heading for his room.

“God dam it Valentino, he’ll be fine, he just needs rest!” Velvette screeched.

“Bullshit, he’s been out for a whole day, our novio is strong, he would’ve pulled through by now.” There was a small part of Vox that was resentful that he had indeed woken up and that Val was about to be proven right. His door clicked upon, Valentino’s imposing figure stood next to Velvette’s short one. Valentino’s coat was gone, letting his wings breathe freely, wearing nothing but a comfortable dark tracksuit beneath. Velvette’s hair wasn’t styled at all, simply left to hang freely, a style that Vox found gorgeous. Valentino just smirked confidently at Vox though it was aimed at Velvette, who just stared flabbergasted, before breaking into a relieved smile.

“Really picked an inconvenient time to wake up, didn’t you?” Vel commented, a rare sound of softness in her tone as she approached Vox; Valentino in tow.

“You know me, Vel, I always show up in places I’m not wanted,” Vox smirks, trying to regain some of the confidence he had lost from that humiliating defeat. He could pretend for now. Valentino leaned down next to his bed side, stroking his hand at the top of Vox’s TV head. At this distance, Vox could see through the tint of his red-sunglasses, his eyes were full of clear relief and love.

“You had us worried, hermoso.” He said in a tone that made Vox shiver, not used to Valentino being so affectionate. “Christ, Vel was a mess when she came to me.”

Velvette huffed. “Well excuse me, Vox was talking like he had one foot in the grave already! Who even did that to you?!” Velvette asked, there was fury in her tone, but it wasn’t directed at Val or Vox. Vox really did think he was a goner there, huh? He cringed at the thought of getting all sentimental and mushy in front of Vel…ugh, at least it wasn’t Valentino. He wouldn’t let Vox live that down, though the way Velvette was being so worried about him almost made him prefer Valentino.

“That old spider prick Zestial, but it’s fine, really. I-I just couldn’t see and I thought I was..you know, a lot more worse for wear than I was, it’ll take a lot more than that to keep me down.” Vox bragged, though the other two weren’t all that interested in his ego right now. Valentino pulled out two golden pistols he’d kept on his body, because that’s a responsible thing to bring into a make-shift hospital room.

“So, we’re going to kill this guy, right?” Valentino asked, unable to stop a grin from forming on his face though he was dead serious. Vox interjected before Vel could passionately agree.

“No, no, you two are not about to go and worsen the mess I created. We could hit him where it hurts though, his reputation, I’m sure some of my cameras caught what went down, we could easily spin this and frame him as-.” Vox put a hand to his chin as he rambled though Velvette waved her hands dismissively.

“No, no, no, you are not working right now, your hurt and your not doing anything until your better!” Velvette stated, crossing her arms over her chest, practically daring Vox to argue with her. He still get like absolute Hell, that fight has taken a physical, and unexpected emotional toll on him. He couldn’t let his image continue to slip though, he’d already looked like an idiotic sap to Velvette and a useless, banged up meat sack to Valentino. Now what was he, some helpless baby?

“Yes, I am-ow!” Vox tried to pull himself up, though the second he began to get up, it was like his torso was trying to split open.

“Careful, querido, we haven’t finished with the cuts on your torso. At least let us handle them.” Valentino asked, squeezing Vox’s hand in his own. Vox’s face heated up at the feeling and he leaned back into the bed.

“Thank you,” Velvette added in an exaggerated tone, before comfortably pulling back the covers to leave Vox’s torso on show. She grabbed some of the cotton balls on Vox’s desk and doused it in the antiseptics she had accumulated there. “This is gonna sting a little.” She warned him.

Vox rolled his eyes. “Oh, please I’m not a kid-oh fuck!” He screeched as Velvette dabbed and pressed the cotton ball against the scrapes on his torso, one by one. He squeezed onto Val’s hand tighter instinctively and hears the man chuckle; Vox blushed even more. Velvette winced and worked as fast as she could, thoroughly disinfecting all his cuts. Vox took in a deep breath, trying to regain any semblance of composure as he swatted away Val’s hand.

“You two really didn’t have to do all this, for me,” Vox added quietly at the end, Val put a hand on his hip.

“That’s a weird way of saying thank you, Voxy.” He teased, though Velvette made sure to lightly smack his arm, having finished treating Vox.

“Shut up, Val! And yes, Vox, we did, did you want to wake up half blind with a useless leg? I didn’t think so.” She seemed to shudder slightly as she described it. He hated that she saw him like that already but that just made a little bit of guilt crawl up to his throat like bile.

“I just…never wanted either of you to see me in that state, I-I apologise, it won’t happen again.” Vox’s voice shifted to the tone he’d use when discussing business deals, formal and matter of fact, dropping with false confidence. That seemed to set off alarm bells in his partner’s head. Velvette considered for a moment what to say, but Valentino beat him to it.

“Voxy, darling, baby,” he leaned in, placing his hands on Vox’s shoulders, “do you know how stupid you sound right now?”

Vox’s eyes narrowed with insecurity, Velvette looked about ready to rip off Val’s wings before he continued.

“Do you know how many times you’ve seen me ripping apart this whole tower because of some shit Angel did? Or how Velvette was a blubbering mess when she first came to Hell? None of us three are perfect, we’re in Hell, so stop lying to all three of us.” Vox’s eyes seemed to soften as he looked away, actually taking in something Valentino said. Velvette seemed shock that Valentino said something actually useful.

“You know you have to be wrong if I’m agreeing with dick for brains here. Vox, we’re not gonna view you differently for this, your still our leader. This place couldn’t function without you, we still value you.” Velvette sat down on Vox’s bed next to him, who was feeling warmly trapped between the two.

“Well…that is certainly got to know, just make sure that the details of all this stays between us? You didn’t tell anyone else, right?” Vox asked, to which Velvette shook her head.

“Only your assistant.” She explained, Vox seemed to relieve, able to relax once again.

“Good, good…thank you for doing all of this for me, truly.” Vox managed a smile for his partners, Velvette politely returned one. Valentino remained smug as always but kept his hands on Vox’s body, playfully dragging his fingers down his arm.

“Very good, I like it!” Val praised him in a sickly sweet tone, which just made Velvette roll her arms. Vox on the other hand was much more preoccupied with the way his hand was travelling down his arm, with his index finger gently dragging against Vox’s chest and then just his side. Vox eyed Valentino’s hand, biting at his lip though he was much too weak to hold back his laughter right now, softy cracking up and squeezing his eyes shut.

“Gohohod, Val, stop thahahat!” He ordered, swerving his body away from the man slightly, but Val’s fingers caught up with him, a wide grin on the man’s face as he realised what he was doing.

“Oh, don’t be such a princesa, Voxy, it’s just tickling, it’s not like I’m doing anything…sinister.” That last word came out in a dark whisper, Vox felt his face sparkle with electricity, unable to meet Valentino’s smug gaze. He tried to curl up on himself but one of Valentino’s pair of arms took a hold of his wrists, forcing them above his head.

“Vahahahl, the tickling is the prohohoblem!” Vox whined, his laughter coming out slightly crackly and hoarse, doing his best to contain his snickers. Velvette starting to scribble her nails along his abs didn’t help with that.

“VEHEHEHEL!!” Vox shrieked, tensing his legs; Velvette simply smirked up at him, squeezing at the solid skin.

“What? You gave me a proper scare, you dolt, consider this my revenge!” She declared, skittering those wonderfully manicured nails of hers over his torso, her touches a lot more precise and decorate than Val’s large hands.

“Fuhuhuhuck, why yohoHOHOHu thehehen?!” Vox spat out at Valentino, who just shrugged, his crimson teeth shining with glee.

“I just like doing this, you look adorable, Voxy~!” He teased, pinching the side of his screen, before sharply withdrawing his hand at the feeling of a sharp shock bubbling at his fingertips.

“CAHAHN YOHOHU BOHOHTH QUIHIHIT IT?!” Vox whined in a flustered tone, wishing he could just disappear, or hide under the covers. His partner’s fingers were not compliant with that wish however, Velvette continued skittering her nails all about his torso whilst Valentino squeezed up and down his ribs, leaving Vox’s midriff in sensory hell. Velvette looked a little apprehensive as she noticed how hard Vox was squirming about, he looked about ready to blow a fuse in his head with how hard he was blushing. It was cute, obviously, but she couldn’t help but come concerned for Voxy, pulling away her hands and ushering for Val to do the same by slapping his wrist. Surprisingly, he complied.

“You got off lucky this time, mi amor, but you owe me~!” Valentino made sure to remind him, but Vox wasn’t listening. He smiled appreciatively at Velvette as he laid down, trying to recover.

“You two..you two are assholes..” he spoke with a small grin before figuring to add, “thanks though but, I can handle myself from here and you both can’t afford to stay here watching me all day.” Velvette huffed, knowing he was right. Valentino looked down at him, something close to love in his eyes.

“As long as you say so, Voxy. Come on, Doll, I have a shoot to film.” He stated to which she just rolled her eyes in disinterest and turned her face towards Vox.

“Stay safe, baby,” Velvette murmured, kissing him on his cheek gently, before she stood up. Vox’s eyes had a little twinkle as he looked up at Velvette.

“I will, I promise.”

[michelle-is-writing]

Clothes Shopping, Spencer Reid

Word count: 1.6k~

I have never felt more award in a store. Looking around me, I find myself a bit weirded out by the store I'm currently in while waiting for Spencer. Mannequins dressed in fancy suits litter the male clothing store while shelves hold the same pairs of oxfords, each pair barely changing with the shades of black and brown they possess. The men at the front registers wear what the store advertises, and their posture is so straight and unchanging that they could be mannequins as well. When Spencer said he needed to shop for some new work clothes, this place wasn't exactly what came to mind.

"Spence, you almost finished?" I ask from behind the blue curtain of the changing stall. The clanking of a belt against the floor sounds through the dressing rooms before the constant thump of Spencer's jumping feet follows it. "Need any help?" I ask him with a smirk, gaining an odd and almost annoyed look from the worker at the changing room desk. These people are really stuck-up.

"I'm almost done, (Y/n)," I hear him say, his voice showing mild frustration. A little concerned, I pull back the curtain to see my husband having trouble getting his pants on, my eyes quickly catching the error in his ways.

"Spencer, honey," I state, walking into the small room with him and placing my hand on his shoulder. Spencer doesn't stop in his movements, however.

"It's okay, I got it," He assures me, making me smile and shake my head. I probably shouldn't be so amused at Spencer being so uncoordinated, but who wouldn't at least be a little tickled by their husband putting on his pants backward?

"Spencer, you really don't," I tell him, sliding my hands over his. He stops in his actions before looking up at me with pleading eyes. No matter what, he will never audibly ask for help, but the pitiful puppy eyes I get from him sells him out every time without fail.

"You kind of..." I begin, only to cover my mouth with a hand as I try to conceal my oncoming laughter. "You have them on backward," I quickly explain to him in a whisper, his eyes immediately shooting wide open before he turns in the mirror to see himself.

"Oh my God," He mutters, finally smiling in amusement. Turning back toward me, he sighs before looking down at the front of his pants that are technically the back. "That explains why this," He gestures to the middle seam line fighting for its life. "Felt weird."

Laughing again, I shake my head before handing him his original ones. "I think this is a sign," I note, gaining a quizzical look from Spencer as he begins to take off the pants.

"Why do you say that?" He asks, sliding the ugly pants off before putting on his original pair, meeting my eyes once he's pulling his zipper back up.

"Because these clothes," I start, gesturing to the area around me. "Are not you," I point out, earning a slight nod from Spencer. "You are sweater vests and black converse, not... tight-ass jackets with leather shoes that need more care than a small child."

He smiles at me before nodding in agreeance. "Rossi recommended the place," He explains, "I didn't say anything when we came in, but..." He leans in closer, beginning to whisper. "I hate everything I picked out."

Shaking my head, I stifle a laugh before gathering the unbought clothes together over my arm and hanging them up on the rack by the dressing room doorway. With Spencer back in his original clothes, we head out of the store, but not before gaining a few pointed glares from the mannequins at the front desk, of course. Hand in hand, we head across the mall to another clothing shop, one that I think will be better for us.

Last time I came here to the mall, I noticed the mannequins in the windows were wearing outfits that Spencer would wear - you know, clothes for a mid-century banker. Without hesitation, I went into the store and found a few things for him, to which I purchased and brought home. When I gave the sweaters to him, I didn't know if he liked them or not, but whenever I noticed he started to only wear the three jumpers I got him without switching back to the other ones he already owned, I knew he liked them.

"Go crazy," I tell him, gesturing to the men's clothes section. Watching as Spencer's eyes scan over the many shelves and racks of his type of clothing, I smile. "I'll be looking at the dresses," I inform him, pecking his cheek before heading over to the women's section.

A few minutes pass, leaving me to myself while Spencer fills his arms up with clothes he likes. I'm glad he's finding a lot of things he deems wearable and his style. He hasn't gone clothes shopping since he first joined the BAU, and even then, I was the one to find everything for him since most of it was from magazine catalogs sent through the mail. Now those clothes are so old and worn out that everything either has holes in them or the color has faded a few shades.

Only finding one dress and a pair of heels, I head back to the dressing rooms where Spencer's trying on his clothes. I knock on the wall beside his stall before pulling back the curtain and walking in. Spencer stands in the mirror, smiling proudly at himself and his new clothes. A dark brown wool coat sits on his shoulders while a black, soft-looking button-up lies beneath it followed by a matching pair of dark brown pants.

Turning toward me, he smiles with a light laugh that shows his happiness. His innocent smile is like that of a child's smile on Christmas. I guess finding clothes that he genuinely likes feels like a blessing to him, and for me, it truly is a blessing.

"Do you like it?" Spencer asks, making my smile turn into a grin. Walking forward, I adjust a few things before smoothing down the fabric of the blazer.

"I do," I tell him. "It looks very nice on you; it's sharp," Turning my eyes up to his, I furrow my eyebrows together. "This isn't all you found, right?" I ask him.

Turning toward to the chair beside the mirror, he points at the gigantic stack of clothes. "No, this just happens to be my favorite," He sheepishly admits, making me laugh. Kissing the handsome man, I rest my hand on his chest before looking back at the mirror.

"It looks nice on you," I repeat myself from earlier. "I hope you're getting it," I tell Spencer, his eyes going down to the dress over my arm as he nods.

"What did you find?" He asks. Smiling, I pull the dress from my arm and hold it up for him to see. "I like that," He notes. "You should try it on."

Agreeing with him, I begin to pull my shirt off as Spencer moves his news clothes onto his lap while sitting down in the armchair. Moving onto my pants, I unbutton my jeans and slide them down, giving Spencer a small show at the same time. Peering back at him, I see his eyes watching me intently while resting his chin on his hand.

"Enjoying the view?" I ask him with a smirk, his smile reappearing above his perched arm.

"I'll never stop loving my wife's amazing body," He answers proudly, making me blush. Four years of marriage, and he still manages to make me feel the same way I did when we were dating.

Pulling the dress over my head, I push it down the rest of my body and watch as it nicely conforms to my legs and waist. Grazing my hands over my clothed curves, I smile at my reflection in the mirror just as Spencer had done with his. The dress is long-sleeved and made of a black, silky material that clings and spans down to the space above my knee. The neckline is a little low too, showing the tops of my shoulders which makes it appear seductive, yet sweet. Sliding on the silver pumps only add to the seduction of the look, making me smile. It's not a bad look for me.

Turning my eyes to the new reflection behind me, I feel Spencer slide his arm around my waist before tugging me close to him. "You look..." He begins, his eyes lingering on his grasp on my hips in the mirror. "Absolutely gorgeous... and sexy."

Smiling even more now, I turn toward him fully and wrap my arms around his neck as he wraps his other arm around my waist to match the other. Looking back at the mirror with me, Spencer smiles. "We look like we're ready to jump back in time," he points out, making me giggle.

He's not too far off, we do look as if we're trying to recreate a picture of Marilyn Monroe and Marlon Brando, and I love it. What I don't love is the sweater that my eyes catch peeking out of Spencer's stack of clothes.

"Spence, honey, why'd you pick out a sweater with armadillos all over it?"

[fordohyon]

THE SECURITY HAS A CRUSH ON YOU?

PT.1

pt. 2!

PAIRING - maknaeline!xikers x fem!reader

TAGS - fluff

WARNING(S) - lmk if theres any, lmk if there are errors as well!!

wc - 2.2k, each member around 300-400

req by - @junghoonateezzanti

a/n - finally 🙌🙌 ive finished it!! sorry it took a while (like really really long), but i am now not procrastinating my reqs and doing them! Very long overdue!!

정훈

JUNGHOON

Since you've been dating, Junghoon has only seen you without makeup or minimal makeup. It's not that he thinks you look ugly, though he's seen you buy some and paid for a few. Your cousin's wedding is in about 3 hours, he knows about the wedding and you've talked about going together. Buzzing from your phone echoes throughout the room confirming that you called him. "Babe...? Isn't it too early?" Evident in his voice that he had just woken up. "Sorry, did I wake you up? Though, are you sure you're gonna come with me? I mean, it's your first time meeting my family and it's during a wedding." Your boyfriend hums as you babble,

"Of course..! We've talked about it, honey. I wouldn't say things I'm not sure of, okay? I'll be there, I'll bring my suit and things too." He voices, affirming you.

Your doorbell rings while you scramble to find your dress, your boyfriend messages, telling you he's at the door. Treading to your door and hearing your boyfriend calling out your name you open it instantly, "Hi honey, you look good." He mumbles whilst you kiss him. "Thank you... You'll be dressing up here?" You question him, making sure what you heard a while ago was right.

"Yes, I brought my suit and everything," Junghoon confirms with a warm smile, holding up the garment bag. "I thought it would be more convenient to get ready here together. Plus, I wanted to spend some extra time with you before we head out."

As you let him into your apartment, you notice a flicker of concern in Junghoon's eyes. Sensing his unease, you gently touch his arm and ask, "Is everything alright, Junghoon? You seem a bit off."

Taking a deep breath, he hesitates before speaking. "Well, I have to admit, I've been feeling a bit... insecure about it lately," he confesses, his voice hardly above a whisper. "Remember the security guard at my workplace who has a crush on you? it made me wonder if I'm not appreciating you enough."

Surprised, you reassure him quickly. "Junghoon, don't worry. I love you, and I'm committed to our relationship. I appreciate your concern, but my heart belongs to you.

Relief washes over Junghoon's face. "Thank you for understanding," he says gratefully. "I just wanted to make sure we were on the same page. I trust you completely, and our love is strong."

You pull him into a solace embrace, whispering, "Junghoon, you mean the world to me."

A sense of reassurance, you both get ready for the wedding. You take your coat, ready to go.

You both attend the wedding, your family asks about your boyfriend and invites him to dinner. Of course, he says yes.

(might make an imagine/drabble about the dinner with your family cs I've been missing junghoon a whole lot lately)

세은

SEEUN

He was already at your place before you were even thinking about getting ready for your date. "Babe...? Are you going to dress up in front of me?" He asks you, you who completely forgot about having Seeun over and about to take your towel off. "Get out... Please" You mumble meekly. "I'll tell you when I'm done!" you shriek at him, voice slightly shaking. As Seeun stumbled out of the room, his mind raced with a whirlwind of emotions. Jealousy surged through him, fueled by the sight of you preparing for your date in a way he hadn’t seen before. His extroverted nature had always made him feel confident, but now he found himself questioning his desirability.

Inside the room, you were left feeling a mix of vulnerability and confusion. The situation escalated beyond what you anticipated, and you desperately wanted to explain yourself to Seeun.

Outside, Seeun's heart sank as he realized the impact of his jealousy on your relationship. He berated himself for allowing his insecurities to overshadow his trust in you,

he gathered his thoughts and knocked gently on the door. "I'm sorry," he said softly, his voice filled with remorse. "I let my jealousy get the best of me." Taking a deep breath, you opened the door and looked into his eyes.

"I understand that seeing me dress up caught you off guard," you began, your voice filled with empathy. "But please know that you are the one I love and have chosen to be with."

Seeun's eyes softened as your words sank in. Realizing the significance of trust and communicatio. "I love you," he said earnestly. "I don't want my insecurities to come between us."

you both chose to set aside the tension and focus on strengthening your relationship. You promised to communicate openly, sharing your fears and insecurities.

You walked out of the room, leaving behind the misunderstandings and doubts that had momentarily clouded your love. As you went on your date together.

유준

YUJUN

Yujun was known for his contradictory nature—extroverted at heart but held back by shyness. You’ve been dating for several months. Sharing a deep connection, Yujun’s insecurities are about to be put to the test.

You had plans to attend a special event. It was the first time Yujun would see you get dolled up, as you usually preferred an easier look to do. As he waited for you to finish getting ready, his mind wandered to the security guard he had noticed at their previous outings. The guard always seemed to cast longing glances in your direction, and it fueled a growing jealousy within Yujun.

As the minutes ticked by, Yujun’s anticipation mingled with anxiety. When you finally came out of the bedroom, he was struck by you. The sight of your radiant beauty, accentuated by carefully applied makeup, took his breath away. But it also stirred up a storm of conflicting emotions within him.

Amid this internal struggle, the doorbell rang. It was the security guard, who had come to escort them to the event. Yujun’s heart sank. Throughout the evening, Yujun battled his insecurities. As he observed the guards’ charming and confident demeanor, he couldn't help but compare himself to the security guard. Doubts gnawed at him, whispering that he wasn't enough for you, that you deserved someone more outgoing and self-assured.

Sensing Yujun’s unease, you pulled him aside, her eyes filled with concern. "What's wrong, Yunjn?" you asked gently, your voice sufficed with care.

Stumbling to find the right words, Yujun finally mustered the bravery to convey his feelings. "I'm sorry. Seeing you all dolled up tonight... and the way he looks at you... I can't help but feel jealous. I worry that I'm not enough for you."

As you reached out to hold his hand, your eyes softened. "Yujun, I understand your concerns, but you mean the world to me. Your shy nature and extroverted heart are what make you so special. I fell in love with the person you are, and nothing can change that."

As Yujun listened to your words, he felt a glimmer of hope. Seeing that his envy was rooted in his insecurities and that you had chosen him for a reason.

As the night progressed, Yujun made an effort to entertain in discussions and showcase his extroverted side. With you by his side.

ฮันเตอร์

HUNTER

Hunter found himself in the midst of a whirlwind of emotions. He had been dating you for quite some time, and your relationship had always been filled with understanding and support. However, tonight was different. It was the first time Hunter had seen you put on makeup, and it ignited a spark of jealousy within him.

As Hunter watched you carefully apply your makeup, he couldn't help but feel a pang of insecurity. His mind drifted to the security guard, whom you had encountered earlier that day. He exuded confidence and had a character that seemed to draw people in effortlessly. Hunter couldn't shake the feeling that you might be attracted to the guards' charming nature.

When you finally emerged from the bedroom, Hunter's breath caught in his throat. You looked breathtakingly beautiful, your natural features enhanced by the subtle touch of makeup. His heart swelled with pride, but at the same time, a wave of self-doubt washed over him.

As they prepared to leave for the evening, Hunter noticed that the guard would be at the event. A surge of jealousy coursed through Hunter's veins as he observed the guards' friendly banter with you during the walk there.

Sensing Hunter's inner turmoil, you gently took his hand and gazed into his eyes with concern. "Hunter, what's troubling you? You seem distant tonight."

Hunter hesitated for a moment, then finally found the courage to express his feelings. "Seeing you so beautiful tonight and the way the guard interacts with you... I can't help but feel jealous. I worry that I'm not enough for you."

Your understanding softened your eyes. You tenderly caressed his face and talked with an earnestness that never wavered. Hunter felt a weight lift off his shoulders as your words sank in. "Hunter, please know that, I love you and there's no one else I'd rather be with. Just be yourself, and that's more than enough for me." As your words sank in, Hunter felt a weight lift off his shoulders.

예찬

YECHAN

Yechan had been dating you for quite some time, and your relationship had always been filled with experience and excitement. However, tonight was different. It was the first time Yechan had seen you put on makeup, and it kindled a storm of clashing emotions within him.

As Yechan watched you carefully lay on your makeup, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of insecurity. His mind wandered to the security guard they had encountered earlier. He had an undeniable charm, and Yechan couldn't shake off the feeling that the guard had developed a crush on you.

As you finished getting ready, you turned to Yechan with a radiant smile. Your beauty, enriched by the touch of makeup, took Yechan's breath away. But alongside the admiration, jealousy began to eat at him, threatening to overshadow their evening.

As they prepared to attend an event together, Yechan's unease grew when he realized that the guard had been assigned to escort them to the event. The thought of spending the night in the guards’ presence intensified Yechan's jealousy, and self-doubt started to cloud his mind.

Seeing the anguish on Yechan's face, you grabbed his hand and drew him away. "Yechan, is there anything wrong? You seem standoffish."

Yechan paused, not knowing quite how to say what was on his mind. But he understood that their connection depended on honesty. "Seeing you so beautiful tonight and the way he looks at you... I can't help but feel jealous. I worry that I'm not enough for you, that I can't compete with his charm and attention."

You cupped Yechan's face gently and your eyes softened. “His charisma may draw attention, but it's your light that shines brighter than anybody else's, Yechan. I like your gregarious demeanor and your capacity to make everyone around you feel special.” You leaned in closer, your voice dropping to a whisper.

"But most of all, I admire your kind heart and selfless nature. You make me want to be a better person." Yechan's cheeks turned a light shade of pink as he smiled bashfully. "I never knew you felt that way," he murmured. You smiled back, feeling your heart flutter at his sincerity. "Well, now you do."

[according2thelore]

okay so your es/ls verse is making me lose my mind omg!! I check everyday and every little snippet heals a part of my soul I am not even kiddinggg! This last one about es!sam missing was so so so on point, I finally have the courage to send you an ask - what if es!sam or dean or both at the same time see ls!sam and dean uhm...um...doing what they are yearning for, kissing or spooning or straight up boning...what happens then? Does ES!Dean freak out and bolt? Does ES!Sam feel hopeful about the future for the first time since coming? Do ES!Sam&Dean evade each other forever?????? Do they accept it or try to play up their wtf reactions as if they havent been dreaming of this forever???

PS - odd detail but I love how adorably you write "kisses you on both cheeks" - english isnt my first language so forgive me if this comes as weird but this phrase of yours always me laugh because it is so cute haha?! I hope ES!Sam kisses Cas on both cheeks? Did I use it right???

EEK! thank you, anon! MWAH MWAH!

and please send me all the asks in the world! i cradle all of these asks in my hands like a duckling, lol!

OKAY ANON LMAO I TOTALLY READ THIS WHOLE THING COMPLETELY WRONG!!!! i read it as: what if LS!Dean&ES!Sam walk in on LS!Sam&ES!Dean kissing, and wrote this big long terrible thing about it!!!! my mistake!!!!!!! i was about to click publish then read it again and realized my error! if y'all ever want that lesson in angst and torture, lmk lol.

but GAH!!! your BRAIN!!!! i had to write a narrative little thing about it, i hope you enjoy!

sam doesn't know where the hell anyone is.

he checks the kitchen. nope. the armory, no one. the library? empty. he checks everyone's bedrooms, the garage, the war room, the dungeon (still can't believe there's a future where he owns a dungeon), and they're all completely empty.

sam is starting to suspect that they all went out without him, despite the fact that sammy had immediately established the ground rule that no "same" winchesters can go out together without a pretty extensive disguise.

that rule had been established when they all went out to the bar to drink their collective problem away (with the younger winchesters in big-billed trucker hats) and a drunk girl had stumbled straight from older dean's unwilling arms into younger dean's infinitely-more-willing arms and did a double-take. then a triple-take. then she saw The Sams, and they got the hell out of dodge before things could get ugly.

twins exist, for sure, but identical twins separated by 10+ years? not really.

sam's walking down another of the infinite hallways when he spots dean--his dean.

he had given up on finding anyone and gone to do some more archiving work. it was one of the only things that kept him sane in this new reality, and he enjoyed the quiet, satisfying work of logging complicated artifacts in his older self's laptop.

it was outside on of these rooms that he finds dean.

sam is positive there's nothing on these floors but dusty, mostly unopened rooms full of non-sharp, lore-heavy papers and gadgets and pottery, so he's confused why dean is here at all.

(and another, more bitter part of him is surprised to see him here without his precious sammy)

dean's pressed against a door, and sam's steps slow, because he's seen this exact scene in that one movie about the blair witch that terence made him watch at stanford. they had all jumped and laughed and rolled their eyes, but sam had sat straight as a board, beer sweating and unopened in his hand.

dean is clearly not looking at him, face pressed into the doorcrack like he's trying to smell or something. sam creeps forward, listening, but can only dean's quick breathing.

is he hurt? sam picks up his pace.

when he's directly behind him, he leans his head in close. he can smell his own shampoo in dean’s hair.

“dean!” he says suddenly, because it’s his big brother, and sam is legally obligated to be a little shit about it.

dean jumps like he just took a bullet to the kidney, and he slams both hands over his mouth. he whips around with glaring eyes, but he’s clearly shocked by something. something not-sam.

“what the hell?” dean asks, sharply, voice barely above a whisper.

“what are we doing?” sam asks, lowering his voice, too. is something wrong? what’s in the room? sam makes a step forward, but dean reaches a hand out to sam’s chest, keeping him there.

dean raises his other hand to his lips, motioning for sam to be quiet. sam hunches instinctively, and creeps forward quietly.

he and dean are sharing space next to the door, and sam presses even closer so dean’s back brushes his chest with every inhale. there’s a few-centimeter crack in the door, just enough for light to come through, but they can only see a sliver of a shelf from here.

there are voices, sam realizes. behind the door. they’re faint, but one is getting steadily quieter and louder, like they’re pacing back and forth from the door.

"--leave, already?"

a soft laugh. "you don't mean that."

a groan. "yeah, sammy, i kinda do. i don't like this. that we have to hide this."

sam knew it was their older selves, but the confirmation of it shoots a spark of nerves all the way down to his toes. why are they here?

“we’ve hidden this before. we hide literally everywhere. all the time.”

“but it’s us, y’know?”

“even more reason. could you imagine telling dean that this is how we end up?”

“kid’ll wet himself in glee, promise you that.” a silence. “what?”

“nothing. just…”

“d’ah, stop lookin’ at me like that.” dean grumbles. and his voice stops moving back and forth.

“or what?” challengingly. sam flushes, because he knows that tone of voice. he flirts with that voice. keep it together, man, he wants to scream to his older self. dean shifts in front of him.

“or i’ll come over there and make you,” dean says, and sam can feel the dean in front of him tense up.

there’s silence in the room for a second, and sam can feel the ragged inhales of the dean in front of him. sam’s palms are sweating.

“how long have they been here?” sam asks quietly, and if he didn’t know better, he would say dean shudders as his breath hits dean’s scalp.

“i don’t know. i just found them a few minutes ago. they’ve been talking about us.”

sam can feel dean’s voice rumble, and he closes his eyes, tight.

the silence reigns, and sam leans forward even more,

“what are they doing?”

sam reaches forward to push the door open. dean makes a wordless hushed sound of protest, but sam has already knocked the door open an inch. it’s silent on its hinges.

sam leans over dean, and his blood runs cold.

sammy is sitting on a table, facing the door. dean’s waist is pressed between his thighs, and one foot has hooked around dean’s calf to hold them close.

they’re kissing.

they’re kissing.

sam can hear the wet sounds their mouths make as they part and connect. tongues flash in the yellow over-head lights.

the dean in front of him makes a noise, shocked and…and something else.

“hate that i have to have you here, sammy. want to fuck you on the kitchen table, make them watch.”

sam watches his own face contort into a groan, watches older dean bite kisses down his throat. sammy’s lips are swollen and wet, and sam flushes hot because oh my god oh my fucking god—

“you like that idea, don’t you? spread you open for me, make your little favorite hear what a slut his older brother is? make him know you’re mine?”

younger dean’s hand flies to his mouth. sam desperately has to press a hand to his cock, and does so, praying that dean doesn’t turn around.

“no bites.” sammy pants, and tangles his hand in dean’s hair, pulling him away.

sam is shocked by the pure want and adoration on his older self’s face, and aches down to his very bones.

“can’t believe we wasted so much time.” he says, voice rough. his eyes are soft. older dean’s hand bunches in sammy’s shirt, and sam can see the tips of his ears go pink.

younger dean stumbles back, and slams into sam. sam jerks back with a yelp, throwing his hips away because he is terrified that dean is going to feel the hard swell of his dick in his jeans.

dean is panting, and his hand shakes on his mouth.

“oh my god,” dean whines. “they’re—together—they—“

“they’re fucking.” sam confirms, nodding and not knowing why. “they fuck. they fuck each other.”

“stop saying it!” dean whisper shouts, bending at the waist and standing up again, pacing in frantic little circles.

“together,” he’s muttering. “they’re—they—holy shit.”

sam’s heart is pumping in his ears. he can’t help it—he can’t—his eyes fall to dean’s crotch. there’s a bulge in his jeans. sam’s mouth goes dry. his whole body goes hot.

does…does dean—

“i don’t—“ sam says, but he doesn’t know what he’s going to follow that up with.

“yeah, i know.” dean says, laughing breathlessly. then his eyes get wide and he grabs a fist of his hair. “oh fuck. what are we gonna do?”

“pretend we didn’t see anything?” sam suggests.

“we were going to—y’know! to you!!! y’all!” dean says. he’s panicking. sam’s hope starts to curdle.

“say it—fuck. they’re fucking!” sam hisses. dean groans like he’s going to be sick.

dean put his hand over his mouth and starts muttering again. sam catches a few words. “kiss—how could he do that—little brother—we promised—can’t believe—“

something strange shifts in sam’s chest. since he was freshly 11—hell even before that, when he found out his kindergarten teacher was engaged, and sam found out what “marriage” meant, he had grabbed dean’s hand excitedly when he came to get him from the classroom and elatedly told him “we’re gettin’ married! i’m gonna marry you!” dad had later disabused him of that, and dean had crawled into their bed later that night and kissed sam’s tear-streaked cheeks. “it’s okay sammy,” he said, “i’m gonna be at your weddin’ anyway. standin’ right behind you.” sam’s stomach had curdled. “but if you’re really, super old—like 29–and you’re still not married, we can talk about it.”

sam had thought about it when he was 13 and watching dean press the girl of the month against the side of the impala from the motel window. 16 years to go, he had thought with all the tone and life of someone counting down the years of a terminal diagnosis. he had been rotting with this for years.

and they—future they—did it! are doing it? they…they’re together. in all the ways. in every way.

“i gotta go,” dean mutters, and sam catches one look at his overwhelmed expression before dean takes off. sam blinks after him, still processing.

together. he and dean together.

“dean,” sam calls. he’s shocked by how breathless he is, and clears his throat. “wait up!”

he follows his brother, like he’s been doing since he was six.

but for the first time in his life, his chest swells with a tentative, frantic hope. he’s afraid the weight of it—of them—will choke him. he doesn’t know what’s going to happen. dean probably won’t talk to him. but sam—he—it’s starting. this could go either way, but whatever this is—love, family, whatever—is starting.

and he can’t wait to find out.

~~~

“do you think they’re talking about it?” sammy asks later, washing his face before bed. dean is sitting on their bed with a cleaning cloth, freshly showered. “do you think it was enough of a kick in the ass?”

“knowing us, not a fucking shot.” dean says blandly, cleaning his gun. “at this rate, i think i will actually have to suck your cock in the library four times a day to get it to sink in.”

sam rolls his eyes, and dryly says, “romantic.” he adjusts his collar and his eyes land on a couple of splotchy bruises on his neck. “hey!” he leans out of the bathroom. “i think you actually left bruises.”

dean looks up, face purposefully placid.

“whoops. let’s hope pipsqueak doesn’t see those.”

sam scowls.

“you’ve got issues.”

dean lifts one shoulder up in a coy shrug and tilts his head.

“aw, baby. only for you.”

“you’re an ass!” sam calls as he steps back into the bathroom. he looks at his and dean’s toothbrushes sitting side-by-side.

he smiles. yeah.

they definitely got them.

~~~

PS - aw! thank you so much!!! it’s not weird at all! and yes, that's completely correct, haha! ES!Sam is for sure kissing Cas on both cheeks!

LS!Dean is the guy running up and trying to stop it but the poor fool is too late! they are embracing!

(I DO NOT KNOW WHY THE ONLY OTHER EXAMPLE OF THIS IN TUMBLR'S GIF LIBRARY IS FROM GABRIEL'S INFERNO, PLEASE IGNORE THE CONTEXT OH MY GOD AHAHAH)

anyway!!!

i am kissing you on both cheeks! so now we're both laughing! thank you for this ask, anon, it made me giggle! have a great day! <3

-lizzy

[by-izzmizz]

I saw your Minthara drawings and just wanted to say WOW, you're talented! Do you have any tips for digital drawing, and especially getting facial features so accurate?

Hello there, MischievousSeagull.

Thank you for the ask and for the compliment. I really appreciate it. Minthara is just too gorgeous not to draw her (every day, for the rest of my life).

To answer your question, I must say I am very much an amateur and self-taught as well so my advice my not be what professional artists would always agree with. I personally regret not studying art and doing character and object studies when I was younger because I believed 'drawing from references was cheating' so I never did. Now I know that in order to draw a character and make it look like themselves you will need:

1. Start with high quality references:

I aim for a few different ones from different angles, with good light but not flat light as this washes out facial features. I usually find something I like and then wing the rest of it. I recommend checking out and supporting Baldurs Gate 3 community in game photographers, they are amazing! The bigger the resolution, the better, so you can see the the details clearly and avoid ending guessing 'is this a shadow or a dimple or a smudge?'. Also, studying the references will help you recognise the characters features. And Minthara has a few!

It helps me to keep the reference in grey scale for and even with slightly more contrast to better understand the structure of the face, especially if I am just learning to draw a new character.

2. Make the features match:

There are so many different ways of approaching the form here and I ended up trying out a few ones. I personally need to have some kind of guide for the relative position of eyes, mouth and middle of the face as it can save from making massive errors. But I am becoming more and more impatient and mostly just wing it and spend hours correcting it later.

Doesn't matter how you do it: using the Loomis method, Asaro Head/planes of the head model (I love it, it helps a lot, especially if you are planning to have more detailed shading in your art!), Reilly method or the thirds method, colour blocking shapes method that they teach in art schools (I do that chaotically sometimes) or just mark the positions of features from references or just trace it, this is 50% of success. It doesn't matter how you get there, especially if you are a beginner.

What I have been doing with Minthara is trying different faces, sometimes just the reference, with my chosen body position and choosing the one that looks 'least off' and then sketching it. I remember to mark the features of the face as it's crucial at this stage, whether you stylise your art a lot or just stick to the character proportions: thin lips, deep/almost hooded eyes, the way her buccal pads are shaped, the more pronounced nasal dorsum and the adorable angry look of concern with furrowed brows. And obviously the ears. However, I will make the ears longer and the eyes slightly bigger as it looks better for my style.

The structure is very important because and you gave to trust the process. The ugly phase can be torture and if the drawing has no redeemable features, I will never come back to it. However, the next step can lift it all up.

3. Shape it with darknesss and light:

Choosing the way you render can make a big difference in how the drawing turns out. What helps me at this stage, after I have my base colour established and filled my shapes with it, is to have a layer with shadows (copy the base colour and just change layer properties to multiply and time it dial it down to 50%) and a layer with light (the same but use a different mode like Add or Screen) and that's the base for shading on which I build my colours. But to be fair, I am not great at this and I still refuse to aim for a higher contrast in my drawings. This is something I'd like to improve in this srea. I learned to avoid airbrush and work with blending brushes.

I usually play with these light and dark layers until it looks okayish, then proceed with adding extra light and some details. If I keep forgetting where they light is coming from, I draw a little sun to remind me.

4. Ok, now crisis control:

Sometimes, even if I have the most perfect reference the more I render, the less it looks like the person I intended for it to look like. This is why I keep doing these things throughout the process:

A) Mirroring: canvas>flip horizontal every now and then. Our brains lie to us and if you look at your art long enough,you will not be able to see mistakes. Sometimes, when I want to finish something quickly, I end up not checking for errors (wrong eye position, nonsensical anatomy, etc), and seeing the final version after sometime, it can make me feel like a rubbish artist. Having breaks and coming back to unfinished art is a good way to keeping it a little bit more objective as well.

B) Levels in grey scale: Rendering is hard and with little understanding how colours work it can ruin the best lineart more sketch. It helps to have a grey layer set to Colour on top of your art to check if the dark and light balance is there and if shapes look the way you wanted them to look. My brain likes bright colours and sometimes they don't go well with the rest of the composition, this is where grey scale helps with planning it all.

C) Check what went wrong with the reference: If I mess up badly and nothing is improving my drawing, I will go back to the original reference. Mirroring both helps to look at the structure with fresh eyes but if that fails, I will try to redo the base form or marked features in the reference. If it's hopeless, I'll trace the features until the drawing looks right to me.

I used to draw by looking at reference on a (in)famous okeaki platforms and I learned many things from just going back to the form over and over using guidelines on both the drawing and the reference as one couldn't import a picture in that software like we can do in Procreate. I recommend just studying forms and shapes and simplifying complex structures. I'd be a much better artist if I wasn't feeling like it was cheating back them. Going to various exhibitions and learning that my favourite artists traced their own photos and built the composition around them blew my mind and encouraged me to explore more ways of creating art.

I hope this answers your questions and I hope to see your work in the near future and the planned animatics! I'm learning Procreate Dreams and hoping to create a few short animations, once I get the hang of it.

This was a bit long but it was a really good question and one that I often ask myself in the process. Thanks for asking! I almost ended up doing a tutorial on Minthara's features but that'd be overdoing it, haha!

Cheers to creativity!

Izzy

[icee133]

Hello! This is part nine of the Marionette series! Wanted to let you guys know I won't be able to post next week due to some testing I have to do, but I'll try to make up for it the following week! Hope you guys like this part. Sorry for any writing errors.

If you would like to be added to taglist let me know!

The Marionette

Masterlist, Part Nine 🤍

Word count for this part: 1752. Enjoy!👻👻

Synapsis:

A new overlord has manifested in hell seemingly overnight. One that overpowered many if not all of the current overlords in all the right ways. Will this overlord use her powers for good to help the members of the hotel? Will she fall in love with a man and end up in a loving gentle relationship? Or will she get her heart broken and turn against them all, burning each bridge she meticulously made. 

The Marionette is a heart wrenching fic with many turns you won't see coming. Stay tuned for each of the episodes as they are released.

¯⁠\⁠_⁠ʘ⁠‿⁠ʘ⁠_⁠/⁠¯¯⁠\⁠_⁠ʘ⁠‿⁠ʘ⁠_⁠/⁠¯¯⁠\⁠_⁠ʘ⁠‿⁠ʘ⁠_⁠/⁠¯¯⁠\⁠_⁠ʘ⁠‿⁠ʘ⁠_⁠/⁠¯¯⁠\⁠_⁠ʘ⁠‿⁠ʘ⁠_⁠/⁠¯

Nette and Lucifer had ended the night on a rather high note despite the thing with the now fallen winner. They had bid each other goodnight after a bit more teasing and laughing about their new nicknames for each other. Nette had gone to bed smiling, forgetting a bit about the huge issue that was the first man.

Nette woke up and immediately felt a tension in the air. She quickly shot up out of bed and got dressed. Trying to hurry out of her room and down the stairs she forgot her ability to quite literally open portals. She had thrown her hair up in a ponytail and was trying to tie her bow tie on her way down the stairs. She glanced in the mirror that was at the top of the stairs, straightening herself out to be presentable when she heard the very loud voices coming from the main room. When she reached the final step she heard glass shatter in the main room, then one of her boys voices. Slightly picking up her pace she entered the room to see Adam standing in front of her 3 sons seemingly picking a fight with them. While poor Charlie tried to stand between them repeatedly telling Adam he was still injured and to not make any stupid decisions. Nette knew she had to get involved quickly before this escalated more. She quickly did a scan of the room to see who all was there. Only seeing her 3 boys, Charlie, Vaggie, Adam, and Lucifer. “What in the literal hell are the 4 of you doing?” Her 3 boys whipped their heads towards her and the room fell silent. “Charlie. What part of this needs to remain on the ‘down low’ did you not understand? And you-“ Nette turned to look at her boys “you 3 need to sit the fuck down and be quiet. I know the hard feelings you have but you need to understand what is at stake right now. We don’t need all of hell knowing the asshole is here or shit will get ugly. So shut up and sit down” Nette’s voice had dropped back to the tone she had used the first day she had arrived at the hotel, and Lucifer found himself thinking it was rather interesting how easily her voice did. Then thinking how she never used that tone with him. 

Nette turned to Charlie again hoping she would explain herself about the matter when Adam suddenly interrupted. “Who the fuck are you bitch, and what makes you think you can come in here like this and interrupt me?” ‘You can call me Marionette, or Nette whichever doesn’t matter right now. I’m an overlord of hell and the mother of those 3. Now if you wouldn’t mind shutting up so the whole fucking pride ring doesn’t hear your unnecessary yapping that would be fan-fucking-tastic” she said while smiling. Adam’s face turned red almost with a new found rage at the fact this women who was absolutely tiny just spoke to him as though he was nothing. He got right up in her face and started yelling at the overlord. “Do you know who I am? I’m Adam the first fucking man, I started everything on earth, who are you to speak to me li-“ Nette snapped her fingers and Adam suddenly stopped talking. Charlie had tried to shove herself between the 2 of them to prevent any casualties or further injuries to the first man (Despite how much he pissed her off at the very fact he was still being a complete dickwad complete;y ignoring his position at this point in time) when she realized he had stopped talking. She quickly turned to look at him realizing there was a stitch pattern across his mouth with a blue colored string. “Nette what the hell you can’t just do that!” She yelled at the overlord. “I gave him a chance Charlie, but you need to understand he isn’t one who is going to listen to anything, especially not reason. Trusting him be quiet and not run his mouth every fucking chance he gets is a mistake.” Nette said to her.

 

She looked back at the first man before saying “When you earn it you can speak for now all you need to do is listen. Yes we know who you are Adam and that’s the problem. See you were an Angel until- well to be honest we don’t know exactly when you ended up like this but oh well. Anyways you are a sinner now. You are no longer an Angel and that is a big problem. All things considered this is the worst thing that could possibly have happened at this point in time. You being here proves only one thing. That human souls in heaven can fall and become sinners. The exact opposite of what we needed to prove. You being here also puts a large target on the hotel if it gets out. A lot of people down here will want you dead. Like fully dead. The way the exorcists did to many souls down here, and they won’t be gentle or nice about it either. Unfortunately this means you are going to have to stay hidden in the hotel. No leaving, no texting, and no yelling out your name like you did before. Your existence here puts everything in jeopardy. Not only the hotel but your life and ours.” Nette had changed her tone to a less condescending one while speaking to the male. He seemed to understand the importance of the situation, and wanted to say something about it but with the string still stitched across his face he simply couldn’t. 

Charlie was looking at the overlord in front of her as she spoke. She had come to realize the fact that she was very good with words. Always finding ways to say things so they could be understood well. Especially important things. “Can you take the string off so he can talk?” She asked the overlord. Nette looked at her then turned her gaze to her father who was sitting looking directly back at her. She nodded before snapping her fingers again allowing the string to dissipate. Adam spoke “How did this happen? How long has it been since the extermination? Why am I even here?” Charlie saw the sad look in his eyes. A stark contrast to the arrogance that was dripping from his voice earlier. She hesitantly said “we don’t know. Me and Vaggie were trying to figure that out while we were caring for your wounds last night, but didn’t find anything of importance. It’s been months since the extermination, and we only found you yesterday. Where did you go? Where have you been? And how did we find you now with the injuries you sustained back then? None of this makes any sense.” Lucifer spoke for the first time since Nette had been there “I’m not sure what happened, but we know for sure you were killed with an angelic blade. So you shouldn’t have been able to come back. This information is unarguably the one that confuses me the most. But this and Everything else can be dealt with in due time. For now we have preparations to work on for the talk with heaven.” He had addressed Nette when he spoke about the preparations for heaven. Hoping she would get the point that he was excusing himself from this, but had wanted to talk to her when she was finished. Nette caught on quickly before saying “yes we will work on that. Give me a minute and I’ll meet you in your office.” Lucifer nodded before excusing himself from the room. Nette turned back towards her boys “you 3 need to behave. I understand your distaste for the situation, but unfortunately there’s nothing we can do. You are to listen to what the princess of hell says, and this was her decision. I’m sure you want to kill him for what happened, but I don’t even know what that would do considering it didn’t quite work when nifty did it. For now just… BE CIVIL” all 3 of the boys grumbled under their breaths about it but had been present for the duration of the prior conversation. So while they didn’t like it, they knew it had to be dealt with. 

“Charlie… we need to figure out where he went and what happened after the extermination. Try to see if you can’t figure anything out. Perhaps talking to a few of the sins or even the goetia may provide some answers? For now I’m going to work with your father about speaking to heaven. Hopefully all goes well.” Charlie lit up “Of course! Me and Vaggie will look in the library at the castle and see if there is any more information there, and if not we will probably speak to Asmodeus or Belphegor to see if they have any ideas on the matter. Of course, we won’t say too much. Just enough to get what we need if they have it.” She pulled Vaggie into her side before leaving quickly to get started. “Angel, Husk, Cherri, you can come into the room. I know you 3 were listening in.” Nette said pointedly at the entrance to the kitchen. Angel slowly peeled out from behind the wall looking at Nette carefully. “Listen, I need you guys to watch him.” She gestured to the first man. “The 6 of you should be able to handle that while we get the information we need. Just make sure he doesn’t leave- not that he will, but still- and try to be nice. Don’t blow up the hotel or you’ll be answering to 2 very pissed off fallen Angels and the princess of hell. Understand?” A chorus of “yes” rang out in the room. Nette looked at Adam before taking a few steps towards him before summoning a blue string. She grabbed his hand lifting it up before placing it around his wrist tying it in a bow. The string seemed to disappear from sight, but he could still feel it. “Think of this as a form of communication. If you need me for anything pull it off and I’ll be able to talk to you through it. It’s weird but it works.” Adam nodded at her watching as she turned and began walking towards the stairs to meet up with Lucifer in his office. 

Taglist:

@popamolly @preciousbabypeter @amberforest08

[emissaradia]

closed starter for @studentalthea location: haven note: *cough* i trusted a twink brother eugh

That box had been nothing short of horrible for all parties involved. Aradia had tried to put on a brave face. She'd tried to move through it without second-guessing herself. She'd tried to be the best version of herself that she could be. And all it did in return was show her that she had never made an error a day in her life. Everything she had ever done had been given reason. There were devils that reared their ugly heads in the shape of a friend every day. And for what? To teach a lesson? Well, she thought that lesson sucked. Maybe she shouldn't have trusted someone she barely knew. Devils were awfully convincing though. They crept in when one least expected it and she had never thought she would be the kind of person to fall into such a trap. She'd been kind. She'd been...for fucking what? Everything that had been on the table crashed to the floor as her hands swept across it. And then she soon followed.

Aradia wasn't sure how much time had passed since, but when she awoke, it was with a scream. As if her nightmares hadn't already been a permanent mainstay, they were now increased tenfold. Maybe she would be better off being some demon's vessel. The door opened and she tried to scramble towards it to keep it closed. "Don't come in!" If it was her sister, she probably wouldn't listen. Maybe it was the unknown assistant though. He wouldn't be able to speak a word. Aradia had been holed up in here long enough though. She had to find a way to fix this. She couldn't let this control her. "I won't let you beat me," she muttered under her breath as she tried to lift herself up off of the floor.

[presidenthades]

I am doing very minor revisions of Daemon’s Handbook (mostly formatting and continuity errors), and I wanted to do some behind-the-scenes commentary before too much time passes and I forget my original thoughts. Here’s Chapter 5!

(Note that these commentaries aren’t canon to the verse until/unless the author writes them into the series. I might change my mind on a few points later, but these are the thoughts I had while writing.)

Daemon’s spies never see Sunfyre at Driftmark while Jace is fostered there. Does that necessarily mean Aegon never visited Jace at Driftmark? 🤔 (Hint: Helaena/Dreamfyre are frequently spotted visiting.)

In this verse, Rhaenyra is more familiar with her half-siblings since they spend so much time with her daughters. I think Rhaenyra has a soft spot for Helaena (because everyone has a soft spot for Helaena 🥰 and Helaena is allowed to spend even more time with her nieces since she’s a girl).

Helaena’s fidget toys are a collection of fabric butterflies, which Rhaena makes and sends with her letters.

Jace mentioned a Spicetown merchant selling a horn that can summon krakens, which, in the ASOIAF books, is part of House Celtigar’s collection of curiosities. Whether it’s a genuine artifact is a different question.

Jace doesn’t spend a lot of time talking to Rhaenyra and Daemon this chapter. That’s because she knows she’s a terrible liar, so she keeps her distance in order not to let slip anything about the elopement. Also, Jace’s lack of correspondence while she’s at Driftmark is because she’s distracted by Aegon, who may or may not have found a way to visit her without Daemon realizing.

When Rhaenys catches Daemon’s spy in her rookery, she lets Jace know that Daemon is keeping an eye on her. Jace passes on this message to Aegon so he knows to be sneaky.

Rhaenyra is reminded of herself and Alicent when she sees Rhaena and Helaena. I personally think Rhaenyra and Alicent had non-platonic feelings for each other when they were younger, but I left this bit open to interpretation.

Joff demands Daemon go with her to the dragonglass quarry, partly so she can get dragonglass, partly so Jace can talk about wedding clothes with Rhaena and Helaena without Daemon eavesdropping. Joff also drops the “babies are ugly” line later to distract Daemon and Rhaenyra so the other girls have time to fly to the elopement spot. Joff is an expert at diversions.

The crescent moon amulet that Joff makes is inspired by the ancient Roman lunula, a protective amulet for female children. The “multiples of fourteen” is a reference to the Fourteen Flames of Valyria, kind of like how seven is the lucky number in Westeros.

When Rhaenyra’s labors start, you can see Baela being antsy because she’s thinking about snitching to Daemon about the elopement. Instead, she ends up sending a raven to Rhaenys (referenced by Maester Gerardys later), which is how Rhaenys knows where to go at the end of the chapter.

Joff’s hatred of vegetables is a running joke I wrote into the story to underline that at heart, she really is just a kid.

The elopement happened very differently in an early version of this story, where Baela and Rhaena are both fostered at Driftmark while Jace stays at Dragonstone. Aegon picks up Jace in the middle of the night at Dragonstone, they fly to Driftmark, and Baela and Rhaena blackmail High Tide’s septon to conduct the ceremony, but Daemon arrives before they finish the vows. But I increased Baela and Rhaena’s role in the story, which had a domino effect on a lot of later events. And I made Jace and Aegon complete their vows so it’s harder for Daemon to brush off.

Aegon 100% found the drunk septon in Flea Bottom and hauled him along on Sunfyre.

Rhaenys didn’t know Jace was planning to elope, but she did know something about Jace and Aegon. I might explore her POV one day so I can figure out what exactly she knew 😛

Chapter 6 commentary here

[littleragondin]

Hello Ragon! 1, 3 and 17 for the BL romance tropes? 👀?

Benka dear! ( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡ thank you for asking ♡♡

1. Enemies to Lovers

This one turned out surprisingly easy, and it's Chu Sangwoo and Jang Jaeyoung from Semantic Error. Frankly I was not convinced after the first episode, I feel like it's easy to step into bully romance which is not something I really enjoy personally. But I thought the antagonism between the two of them and the way it changes and evolves was really well done, and I full heartedly believed in the romance of it all.

3. Childhood Sweethearts

Okay the difficulty in this one is that I don't think a brief connection during childhood is enough to justify calling this trope, but I think the line between this and friends to lovers can be pretty thin? So with some uncertainty to the fit, I'll go with Cake and Seeiw from My Only 12%. I picked them because they have always loved each other, no matter the way or the label they might have put on it. We meet them still pretty young, and they have already been at the center of each other's life for so long already and they can't really imagine their life without the other. And, while it may not be true for Cake, well, he is Seeiw's first love after all.

17. Ugly Duckling

Okay so here is a trope that, in its original format, I don't really like: the "ugly" character getting a make over and suddenly, wow, everyone fall for them. So I do have to go with a show I adore and who kind of turns it around a little bit - Secret Crush on You, especially SkyJao but I'd argue it works for them all. I know Surprise is neither 'ugly' (nor fat, one of my few gripes with the show) but he is treated like it in the narrative AND YET! he gets Known Flirt And Certified Hottie Sky by changing absolutely nothing about himself except allowing himself to be loved (which is not nothing). The whole message of SCOY is that you deserve to be loved the way you are, so it makes sense that they would skip the makeover part of the trope and I do love them for it.

[safely-in-vhagars-belly]

House of the dragon short read a summery for all those who have forgotten for season 2 and totally true to the facts and how it happened.

This might be the most chaotic shitpost recap I've ever seen.

Viserys: Nah I want a son.

Rhaenyra: Noo father I'm just as goooood.

Daemon: You have meeeee.

Viserys: No I want a son. Gimme one.

Aemma: nooo now I must dieeee. Here's your son tho.

Viserys; Aemma my uwu nooo

Baelon: FATHER I AM UR SON

viserys: yes u are uwu u are so cute lets make photos.

Maester: sire u should back off and let the kid breath Sire, no do not bring out the tide pods. Sire...SIRE!!!!

viserys: I'm off now that I have my photos for my dragongran with him and his first tidepod! This will bring in the likes and defeat Daemons unholy post.

Maester:*kills child* I hate targaryens I hate them I hate them I hate them. Stupid ugly white haired ppl

Baelon: well fuck you too you cunt. You think I want to be in this family? Ha. Jokes on you.

Viserys: NOOO MY SOON SOB SOB WHO DID THISSS

daemon: LETS FUCKING GOO IM THE TRUE HEIR YALL BETTER REMEMBER THIS. DRINKS ON THE TAP OF THE CROWN. THATS ME ANYWAY HAHA FUCK U BAELON U LOSER FOR ONE DAY.

Daemon when appearing for vizzy: Look we all make goofs & errors what's most important is where our hearts are at.

Viz: I'm convinced you have no heart!

Daemon: NAAAAAAH U CANT. IM UR HEIR

Viz: I already have a child. U are a child daemon. U are just not mine

Guards: OOOOOOHHHH

Viz: daemon you know where the trash goes. Follow it.

Viserys: I still want my boii

Aegon: I AM HERE FATHER. LOVE ME.

VISERYS: what the fuck are you. You can't be my son why ur hair like that.

Alicent: husband I'm like 17 and I got u a son. Ur other wifey failed to do that. Us hightowers have curls. Its a curse and a blessing.

Otto: maybe it's magic, maybe it's Hightower genetics.

Rhae: rude ass bitch all of you. Look at how cute he is. He's my baby brother I will protect him. SAY RHAERHAE

alicent: rhae he came out me a moment ago he can't talk yet.

Aegon: (as a baby to his sister) I am the superior one and u should fetch me a snack in the kitchen, you white haired wench.

Rhae:*handing back Aegon* nah u can have this shit back. Do us all a favour next time just go the targaryen way and let it die.

(We light the way)

Vizzy: I wanna fuck u (to alicent)

Alicent:( alright its my duty.

The most unpassionate scene:

Aemond, happily making his entrance in the show as a sperm: WIEEEEEE! Hahaha thank you gods, I won't let you down. I will bring chaos into this family!!!!

The gods; good, our little apprentice. Good.

Rhaenyra: I'm so sneaky hehe

Daemon and rhae rhae: *almost fuck each other*

Daemon: wait I can't I suddenly decided I have morals and standards. Also u just a child tf.

Rhaerhae: no what is this? Fuck you I'm nailing that dornish snack as if he's a lose screw in a IKEA shelf

Daemon: No not Crispin! Get baaaack

Rhaerha: Too late

Crispin: Ah yes. My fantasy is finally coming true!!!!

Crispin: My queen forget ur pathetic kingdom full of incest and forget that old fuck that is your father. Let us depart on a ship and start a life that will not raise questions at all with your hair and our new found riches.

Rhae: I am listening.

Crispin: We can sell...oranges

Rhae; Nah fuck this shit where are the bananas. I love bananas. U should go with your oranges if that makes you happy. Pathetic fruit picker. This is why my uncle bested u. If you relied on bananas none of this would have happened.

Crispin: Rhae rhae..

Rhae: NAH have u even tried defeating a yiga clan member with a orange? You never played zelda did you? And you call yourself a warrior? Out of my sight.

Crispin: but I love u. Why would you sit a comfortable throne instead of working your ass off with me in the fields?:(

Rhae: Honey I never worked a day in my life and I intend to keep that tradition.

Helaena at some point: MHEEWWWWHH

Alicent: he said he wanted a son, so zip it.

Helaena:*cries*

Rhae rhae: Kidnap me, make me your wife and slay my father's guards.

Viserys who can read their lips and understand Valyrian: What kind of wattpad fanfic is this shit. What's next Harry styles flying in on dragonback?

Harry styles: HELLO WESTEROS. THIS IS FOR OUR PRINCESS. ALL OF YOU; WATERMALEON SUGAR. HIGGGGGH.

Crowd: HIIGGGGGH.

Aemond in Alicents belly: Grgg *DEMONIC NOISES*

Alicent: why does rhaenyra get Harry styles and I all I get is traumas and struggles. Also why is prince daemon and her acting out duncon fics when I INTRODUCED RHAE RHAE TO WATTPAD AND HE GAVE ME HIS FAVOUR I HATE THIS AHHH.

Alicent; why am i so angry... I don't understand.

Aemond in her belly: MOAHAHAHA IT WORKS.

Ser Harwin strong; I really should not. It is against the rules.

Rhae rhae: *breathes*

Harwin: If they cut off my cock I still got my fingers-

---

Time skip

Aegon: I don't know what happened but suddenly I'm borderline rapist and I'm also a drunk and like long legged people because it reminded me of dinosaurs and I got that phase when my father still loved me.

Aemond: I'm kind of cute and sympathetic but you will hate me later. It's OK. I will get over it ;)

Helaena: I am the mighty seer. I know all. OOH SPIDERS.

---

Vhagar: (dreaming) a big strong dragon approaches vhagar and courts her with a beheaded child corpse. She takes it and they mate.

Vhagar, waking up: WHO DARES INTERRUPT MY DREAMS?!

aemond; shit she's so big

Vhagar:*pulling a knife* WANT TO REPEAT THAT.

Aemond: uhm no ma'am! May I...May I ride you

Vhagar; NO :) *goes to sleep*

Aemond: shit shit...

Aemond: OBEY.

vhagar; WHAT IS WITH YOU AND YOUR FAMILY ALWAYS WAKING ME UP. FIRST LAENA NOW YOU. LAENA HAS NOT EVEN MET SEBASTIAN YET UNDER THE SEA. DO YOU MIND IM MOURING HERE.

Aemond: I understand..

Aemond;...its just...

Aemond: the seaweed is always greener.

Vhagar: (sigh): in somebody else's lake

/

Don't ask.

I Don't know what the hell happend either.

[itsjustsemantics]

Narcos - A Javier Peña fic: Love, Javier

Summary: Broadly based on every great best friend-to-lovers flick. From ‘Love, Rosie’ to ‘When Harry met Sally’ to ‘Ugly truth’ to ‘One day’ to ‘Just friends’. 

Pairing: Javier PeñaxF!Reader/OFC (no y/n, no physical description, established backstory, no clear age gap)

Rating: E (Series 18+)

Content and warnings: Follows the timeline from season 1 of Narcos till post-season 3 but the main story takes place post-season 3. So semi-accurate timeline(Apologies for any errors) Slow burn, best friends to lovers, based on a couple of rom-coms, smut, alcohol and tobacco consumption, mention of hard drugs and violence (gun, physical, mental, emotional etc...), mention of pregnancy; pregnancy scare, discussing abortion, miscarriage, lots of pop culture references!! 70s, 80s, 90s inspired!!! And OMG soft 50s music and jazz inspired!!!!!!!! sex;) (Individual warnings before each chapter as well in case I missed any here x)

PS- lots of mutual pining and reluctant friends to lovers, all the good stuff basically ;)

~0o0~

Series masterlist - Next Chapter

Chapter 1: The Favour (1989)

Javier’s eyes burned holes into the clock above the bar. He downed the last of his whiskey and ran his tongue over his bottom lip catching one of the drops that had dared to escape. He drummed his fingers absentmindedly against the walnut countertop, simultaneously bored and anxious.

One could call him a hypocrite. Javier hated tardiness in others even though he himself had made it quite the habit. His conscience simply skipped over that part in the moral guidelines handbook. He wondered if Steve was even going to show as his eyes washed over the crowd hoping to catch a flash of blonde hair and beige suit.

“Hello, hi, hey.” Steve’s breathy voice cut his search short. He watched as Steve straddled the bar stool and reached into his breast pocket for a handkerchief, wiping away the thin layer of sweat coating his forehead. A habit he had picked up back in Colombia.

“Sorry,” He breathed, signalling the bartender and gesturing to the single malt whiskey on the shelf before his shoulders uncharacteristically slumped into a curved posture.“Were you waiting for long?” He finally turned to face Javier, a cheeky smirk dancing on his lips. Javier rolled his eyes in retort any of the genuine annoyance he had felt had now dissipated and was replaced with scepticism.

“Cig?” He said, offering an open pack of Marlboros to Steve and slotting one between his own empty lips. His hands curled around the familiar shape of his lighter in his back pocket and then brought it to his mouth.

“Some conference huh?” Steve said, filling in the short silence where Javier flicked the side of the lighter, waiting for the end of his cigarette to catch a spark. His eye swooped upwards towards Steve curiously.

“Some waste of time.” Javier let out a mirthless chuckle along with a cloud of smoke.

“Javi, I-” Steve paused and took a long drag. “I actually need a favour from you.”

There it was. Javier smiled inwardly, he was right, as usual.

“Connie's cousins’ in town and she’s headed to New York, same as you.” Steve sipped his whiskey, eyeing Javier from behind the safety of his glass.

“Mhmm.” Javier nodded, sucking at his cigarette with more intention than before, the smoke coaxing him to relax.

“She needs a ride, and I was hoping you could give her one.” He planted his glass down firmly on the countertop and the liquid thrashed against the walls.

“Next week?” Javier reached for Steve’s glass, the swirling liquid calling out to him.

“Next week,” Steve repeated, letting him take a sip.

Javier looked at his partner. Steve’s brows were tense and it looked like he hadn't slept in days; no doubt late-night phone calls with Mrs. Murphy trying to juggle the responsibility of their new baby. Steve loosened his badly done-up tie and took another long drag from the nic stick. That with this conference they were attending sure looked like it wasn’t doing wonders for his partner. He couldn’t say no, moreover there was no actual reason to say no, besides his own selfish discomfiture.

“I can't stay Javi,” Steve sighed, rubbing his palm over his face in response to his silence. “Connie’s been alone too long- Hell, I’ve been alone too long.” Javier’s jaw tightened, saying no would be a crime.

“When are you leaving?” Javier leaned against the countertop, chin resting in his hand lazily.  

“Tomorrow,” Steve sighed out a large cloud of smoke. “Javi I would've done it myself but-”

“It's okay Steve.” He patted the blonde’s shoulder. “It’s really not that much.” Javier felt as though those last words were more for him than Steve, the way they lingered at the back of his throat.

“Thanks, Jav, really.” Steve’s eyebrows creased and his hand reached backwards and patted Javier’s hand on his own shoulder.

“Tell Connie and the kid I say hi hmm?” He put out the cigarette and watched Steve’s lips press into a relieved smile at the mention of his wife and child. He squeezed Steve’s shoulder one last time before getting up.

“See you Jav, take care of yourself.” Steve raised his glass towards him and Javier pressed a couple of dollar bills on the counter.

“Will do, Steve.” He turned around on his heels and walked away towards the exit, without looking back.

~0o0~

A/N: Hello. Just a little note here, the first 2 chapters are kind of small, but I assure you they get longer. Comments and notes left are much appreciated, kinda gives me some direction as to where to go with this whole thing :) 

Hope you stick around and give this a chance. Sending love to everyone :**

PS- Check out chapters 2 and 3 here: Chapter 2, Chapter 3

[freuleinanna]

trials (and errors)

aaaaaah fuck it. so I was having a hard time writing the fic between being dead inside and quitting my job & job hunting. it still isn't finished, and I've been struggling with writing a longer piece in English as well, but whatever, I'll just keep trying.

P.S. I'll be posting by chapters (AO3 too) in hopes of winning myself some time. P.P.S. I've posted excerpts from it here, here, here, and here. P.P.S. Just a note. I didn't want to make Marisa or Asriel specifically likeable. They're young, and youth is often about ugly emotions & being wrong most of the time. Special thanks to @stillgoingstrongforeternity for inciting the idea!

Exiled from the public's eye, young Marisa Coulter is preparing to go and stand trial for adultery. On the other side of Oxford, young lord Asriel Belacqua is preparing to go and stand trial for murder. A lot has been said about how 'as soon as they met, they fell in love'. That is exactly what made the rest of it so hard.

Chapter 1: Creatures.

Animals turn wild in isolation.

Notes:

I've sprinkled my own hc's from 3-sentence fics all over this, so if you feel you recognize something, that's cause you probably do.

Please know that I resent the idea of turning Edward Coulter into a monster.

Hilda the Maid is just an OC, don't mind her. She's there for the scene.

The old maid's daemon, a house cat, is peering at the golden monkey from behind his human's legs.

'You're not dressed,' a tone of cold disdain matches the stare, no trace of respect in either. Frankly speaking, Hilda never had much love for her, tolerating Marisa reluctantly for the sake of her adored Edward, but now – well. No room for pretense. The boy she nursed in childhood lies rotting in his grave, yet she who wronged him is alive and well.

With a side-glare equally hostile, Marisa puts the drink aside. It is untouched, she cannot afford drinking before the court, she's not that reckless (is she yet?), but the oaky smell is enticing and her lips are dry with thirst. She licks them slowly. It's a game – a craving she must endure, the taming of the beast. She's become good at that.

'Take them away,' her voice is hoarse with disuse, and Marisa wonders if that croaking would be any similar to her daemon's, should they break silence again. 'I shan't wear 'em.'

On the bed, two dresses are set out: both black, both criminally distasteful. Fitting a widow, Marisa supposes, chosen undoubtedly by Hilda herself. She doesn't bother to mask a grimace looking at baggy silhouettes of plain cloth with mournful ribbons in abundance and humble sleeves that cover the wrists – the humiliation of wearing something so bland, even for theater, turns her insides. She buried a husband, after all, not herself – unless you count the exile.

'Yes, you shall.' The house cat narrows his yellow eyes hissing. 'You shall, if I have to wrestle you into one.'

Marisa turns her head, and even the stuck-up old maid can't deny how much the gesture suits her: the arrogance of it, the will. Light from a window catches her eyes; hellfire burns blue as she leans forward in her chair, elbows on her knees:

'Try.'

'A vermin, that's what you are.'

She blinks, her jaw clenches and unclenches at the words. She sits perfectly still. Predators always do.

'A pest, a parasite from the beginning, and he never knew, no, he was too good a man for that. I told him, but he wouldn't listen. I saw you for what you are, though, you little, rotten–'

'Dear Hilda.'

A pause. Hackles raised on opposite sides of the room.

'You will address me as Madam, or I will personally rip out your foul tongue and send it to whatever beggar family Edward had kept you here to support.'

It’s the longest sentence Marisa has uttered in weeks. Her daemon is baring his teeth instead of her – they always feel a little closer at their worst. How fascinating. The house cat stands rigid, its tail twitching in a half-curl close to the legs. The woman's stance is much the same. With visible restraint, she keeps her hands clasped above the apron as servants learn to do, but disgust dripping from her voice is undiluted and more candid than a knife making the cut.

'You may be a lady of the house by marriage,' she spits, 'but you're nothing more than a greedy, dirty pithole.'

The predator leaps.

Even as it leaps, it agrees with the judgment.

The golden monkey screeches, the cat is yowling – Marisa springs to her feet and makes exactly two furious steps before stopping herself, her robe flying and then settling around her. Hilda does not move. Marisa suspects why. All her life, she, too, has never felt a single reason to fear something she could dissect, and pull apart, and learn its nature. Knowing the nature, that’s the key. Poison rolls over her in waves of sizzling acid, and she could swear the woman sees that right underneath her skin, she is a horror.

It feels weird, though, not having power over someone for a change. Weird and destabilizing. Marisa can't afford that either.

An idea comes not by itself, but conjured from the depths of the sadistic artistry that is her mind now, and her lips twitch in triumph.

'Alright,' she nods, 'I'll wear a dress. A fitting dress to honor our dear Edward.'

Possessed, she flings the wardrobe open – a splash of exuberant colors, rich materials, silks, laces of such intricacy it's like a tapestry of its own, everything she hoarded with dragon-like avarice running from (a greedy, dirty pithole) her girlhood of virtuous restraint. A crimson one she chooses, holding it to herself and turning around.

'What do you think? Does that render all my grief?'

The dress covers the knees, but then it doesn't cover much else. Marisa can still taste the satisfaction of seeing the seamstress look away nearly in shame, pricking her fingers on a needle, as though at that instant, fitting the dress to Marisa's figure, she fully realized her own bleak mediocrity and it marked her for life. Cap sleeves were embracing the tender arc of Marisa's shoulders, and a cleavage, though humbly narrow, was running down her bosom just low enough to hypnotize anyone looking with hints of delicate plumpness as she was breathing.

It was a scandalous dress. The thought of wearing it ached in her lower belly with pleasure of anticipation.

'At least pretend to have some dignity,' – oh, the repugnance in it.

Marisa laughs. She slips out of her robe and throws it sideways – the monkey jumps to catch it, turning his back immediately, eyes averted. Marisa doesn't see, but small black paws clutch at the clothes where it carries the warmth of her body, half-stroking it, half-choking.

Сool crimson clings to her every curve as she releases her hair from under it and turns around.

'Zip it up.'

Poor old maid, her face is wrung with contempt so profound she cannot speak. A useful trait in servants. It stirs something in Marisa, pulls her eyebrows into a frown. Then it comes – Thorold, that reticent man Asriel always had around, his trusted accomplice in every deed; her mind recoils from the danger of pursuing the memories further. Too many things she can’t afford.

A glance over the shoulder; a sharp, imperious snap of fingers.

'Now, Hilda.'

The cat daemon treads forward. Coarse hands jerk the zipper up, shaking Marisa mercilessly in the process. She feels a hard pinch at her back as the maid smoothes the dress over, and bites a giggle down through the wince. It is very, very familiar – that overwhelming need to let cruelty out in little bursts. Oh, Hilda, so righteous. So susceptible to provocations. What fun it would be–

The woman slams the door behind her without saying a word, taking the victory and leaving Marisa alone in the room.

As she regards the empty space, resembling a child that's just been told off by a mother, her fingers tremble. A (greedy, dirty pithole) storm is raging, locked in a ribcage with nobody to lash out on, nobody to stand witness. Her claws dream of a victim to dig into. They only find her own self, and of herself, she’s had enough to make her permanently sick.

The monkey chatters sharply. Marisa glares. Hateful creatures, both of them, she thinks, like broken mirrors only capable of showing the worst parts. Their worst parts have grown wild in isolation, clashing all the time. Following an impulse, she holds his gaze, then sinks to her knees, leans forward – then, after a moment of consideration, growls. Her upper lip curls to show teeth. Vocal cords strain dangerously. A menacing grumble is rolling somewhere so deep in her throat she didn't know a sound like that could be produced.

Her daemon drops to all fours and mirrors the note, prowling toward her. Golden fur on his neck bristles, he even paws at the ground a couple of times as if aiming for a blow. He wouldn't dare, and neither would she, but both feel rabid for wanting to. Snarling, they inch the distance between them. Stare at each other, face to face – repulsive, repulsed, and ugly. Shivering all over. Then, as abruptly as it started, it stops.

Long – silence.

Long, long silence.

Marisa sniffs her nose and rubs it with a bent wrist before getting up. She doesn't give her soul a second look; surely, he knows when his purpose is served.

The actual, normal mirror reflects her as she is: miserable and ridiculously clothed. What was she thinking with that dress. She isn’t going to wear it, not really, not unless she wants to be skinned alive at the hearing. In a fit of irritation, she arches to reach the zipper, pulls it down, then frantically undoes it all the way. The dress is flung to the floor and lies there like a pool of dried blood.

Must have gone mad, her heart. Pounding. She’s no short of heroic trying to catch her breath, but it keeps escaping. She would love to escape too. Instead, she'll have to drag herself in front of the Consistorial Court, and let them dissect her, and pretend to be so very sorry as she’s trying to collect her own intestines afterwards.

That’s not all, though.

Biting on a nail, Marisa struggles to understand where her anxiety comes from. Leaving the house – yes, sure, because at least she knows these walls, albeit hates them; she’s made herself a proper hermit here. Spectators throwing shame, knocking on a glass cage to wake an animal. Losing every chance in life over something she had no control of. That just makes her bitter, not afraid. There’s also facing Asriel.

As soon as she thinks it, her senses are flooded.

Rage on the rocks with two fingers of fear, completely irrational. There’s nothing they can say or do to each other, now that the worst things have already been said and done, and still her head is spinning with thoughts of what she’ll say, what he'll say, how he'll look at her and if he looks at all. To be honest, she can’t lay a finger on what it is exactly that scares her. Maybe, that she'll remember the good things.

And then, there's Lyra. . .

–the reaction is instant and brutal. Her body bursts with phantom loss so excruciating she wants to gnaw her wicked arms off for recalling the sensation of holding a child. She had wished Lyra out of them, but now that she is, her whole body wants her back despite direct orders. It's irrational, too, and she growls again, guttural sounds almost prompting her daemon to look – but she is naked, so he doesn't.

What’s infinitely strange is she has never found any particular fondness in her for Lyra. Why would she? For goodness' sake, she is barely twenty-three, she has no more comprehension of being a mother than of being a panserbjørn, yet the longing, purely physical, is there. Something's changed in her, like her integrity has been compromised. Like she’s been invaded and pillaged, robbed of something she never quite wanted but is barely restraining herself from crawling on her knees after. It’s humiliating.

Is it humiliating to have had a daughter?

Daughter, what an alien word.

Her own body betrayed her when it decided to awaken and be barren no more. It wrote a love story – then branded Marisa with it as punishment for not reciprocating that love. Her breasts are still swollen. There's a soft roundness to her waist and hips, skin marked with tiny scars from stretching. Women with bodies like that are supposed to nurse children, but that's a thought as empty as her womb.

She thinks instead of standing trial for adultery. Of whispers, gossip, judging looks, and whatever comes next. If she is to survive, it’s by molding herself back into a presentable form. By getting clean, cleaner than ever. Even if clean means scraping that sad little love story off her skin with sandpaper.

It doesn’t help that, for the life of her, Marisa cannot un-feel the irreversibility of changes left in her by becoming a mother.

Especially since she hasn’t, really. She gave birth. Those are different.

She can't afford focusing on that now.

In the end, she chooses another dress: elbow-length sleeves, no cleavage. Indigo blue, like the depths of the ocean where the creatures are lurking. The monkey comes to sit at her feet, completing the armor with the last golden piece. Entice, beguile, disarm. Asriel will see through it, so let him. At least the rest won’t see the wounds.

Chapter 2