#it feels really surreal to have her now ;o;

[blackbackedjackal]

I contain so much unbridled joy realizing you named a black GSD Blue. Bless the Wolfs Rain stans we shall never die

[lullabyes22-blog]

Hi lullabyes, would u mind sharing your take on the flashback with young Silco, Vander, and Felicia? :O

It's adorable. It's touching. It's sweet. It's a serene moment of intimacy and family (or polycule) bonding in an otherwise deeply frenetic season.

It's also so surreal it may as well be a fever dream.

I should note, at this stage I've shut off my cognitive reasoning about Arcane and begun approaching this as if it's a series of exquisitely crafted, animated short films that are all about to collide into a beautiful disaster.

Because that's what it is.

S2 has thrown a lot of the intelligent plotting out the window to embrace the chaos.  Whether due to time constraints, intellectual fatigue, or creative indulgence, I feel like we have a show that's now just hurtling breakneck towards the finish line. Previous story threads that once held weight and were the driving force behind character arcs and subplots, have since been abandoned. Nuanced motivations and character growth are being tossed to the wayside for the sake of action, montages, music videos, and a cavalier, anything-goes approach to world-building.

And yet, it's still such an incredible spectacle to behold.

@ravenkinnie delightfully noted that she is now watching this show with her pussy.

I agree 100%. S2 is a full-body experience, and one I find myself wholly consumed by. It's like a one-night stand you weren't expecting to be so fucking good. And when the sun comes up, you know it's going to hurt to say goodbye, and there'll be no follow-up call.

But damn, you enjoyed the shit out of that experience.

So yeah, the flashback was fucking adorable. I love the genuine emotion and closeness between the three characters. I adore the idea of Felicia, Silco and Vander being childhood friends (or, again, a very messy polycule) and both men sort of falling apart without her Manic Pixie Dream Girl presence in their lives. It's a nice little character arc.

However.

I cannot reconcile this scene with the rest of S1. It feels completely disconnected from the reality of the show and the world around them. The flashback has absolutely no impact on the current events, nor does it have any foreshadowing. The flashback exists solely to provide us with a glimpse into the past, with sweet little parallels to serve as bonbons that make us coo and sigh. It completely glosses over Silco's deeply, blackly visceral hatred of Vi in S1, reduces the class struggle culminating in the Day of Ash to "Oh, Silco. If only you've protested for your basic civil rights in a peaceful manner instead of tossing a molotov cocktail, you'd still have your family, a place in the community, not to mention your eye," does not really explain why Benzo reacted to Silco's appearance by calling him an animal, and, most importantly, gives the lie to the entire dynamic between Silco and Jinx.

We were led to believe that Felicia's death was the catalyst for Silco and Vander's falling out.  That if Silco had found Vander's letter in their little Brokeback bunk, they would've worked out their differences and found peace together. That they'd have raised Felicia's anklebiters side-by-side as the Zaundads of the revolution.

Except Silco is also the man selling Evil Anime PCP (Shimmer) as an economic cheat-code to earn respect for his people, and Vander is basically Captain Centrist and traumatized by war, and there is NO WAY they would've seen eye-to-eye on their respective methods. There's no way they would've come to any sort of accord. And there's no way Silco would've forgiven the man who mutilated and left him possibly sheared of half his lifespan, any more than Felicia's children would forgive the man who killed their mother.

It's such an incongruous narrative beat.

Which brings me to the other point:

Silco and Jinx.

imo, while I love the idea of Silco carrying either a secret torch for Felicia, or seeing her as a sister he'll always love, and while I absolutely treasure the idea of Jinx being a daily reminder of what he's fighting for - "I'm doing this for us, Jinx." - it sort of cheapens the key connection between them. In S1, Silco and Jinx's arc is, in my eyes, one of the best things about the series, and so incredibly well-written and executed. Silco is a monster, yes, but his monstrosity is the product of systemic and individual trauma, and the inextricable bleedthrough between the two. Finding this little girl and bringing her up under his wing, he has the chance to be the steadying hand and safe harbor he lost after Vander's betrayal. His monstrousness is not something he inflicts on her; it is something that, rather, grows on JInx like a kudzu vine, as the terrain of her damaged mind is already fertile for his worldview and methods to take root and thrive.

He is, perhaps, the best example of nurture triumphing over nature, even if his nurturing is rather, uh, extreme.

But if their bond is predicated on Felicia, rather than two strangers finding each other in the wilderness of heartbreak and learning to let their black hearts beat, messily entwined, as one family unit, and if Silco's obsession with Jinx is merely a projection of his guilt for killing her mother, and, by extension, a projection of his love for Felicia onto her daughter...

It's just.

Do y'all remember those uncomfortable frames that the showrunners admitted were deliberate, despite the evidence in the written text suggesting a familial bond? The subtext that, all the way into S2, carries the implication of a romantic relationship between a father and his daughter?

Well.

The implications now threaten to melt into explicit text, and the uncomfortable frames have turned into Unfortunate Implications, and I am not sure how I feel about this.

 It's not giving Lily and Snape; it's giving Sansa and Baelish.

It's giving the showrunners a big, fat "YEESH" rating from CPS.

And it's giving us the same, old, tired trope of a monstrous man unable to form an attachment unless it's through the lens of prior attachments, that whole 'You remind me so much of her' and the like.

 (I also admit I am the world's biggest hypocrite as the entire premise of Forward but Never Forget/XOXO is that the core foursome of Vander, Silco, Lika and Sevika knew each other, and that those ghosts haunt the machinery of the present day. But I try my damnedest to make plain there's politics buffeting all these relationships, and despite all their efforts to claw at self-sovereignty, reinvention and a new order, the past is a stubborn bitch that refuses to let go.)

(Also in FnF, Silco is triggered by Lika rather than into her in any affectionate or romantic way, because they're so similar: pragmatic survivors who aren't above rule-bending to get their way, and at their core just want a smoke break, a stiff drink, and a nap. It's a mutual respect rather than an affection, which is why she bestows on him the dubious honor of mercy killing her if she's too wounded on the Day of Ash to continue on.)

(He's the one person who could, and would, do her the service. It's kinship, and Jinx is the bright torch of their shared ambitions and ingenuity given both wing and voice.)

But anyway.

The flashback is a fever-dream. The kind you have when you're high on cold meds and can't think straight, and the world is a blur of sensations and memories that seem vivid in the moment but melt away into madness when you're better. It's a scene meant to be savored rather than interrogated. And I think if the showrunners had the time and inclination, we would've gotten a second episode solely dedicated to the flashback, rather than shoehorning it in. But since they're clearly trying to tie everything up with a neat bow before the finale, I don't blame them for having to skim past it and focus on the vibes/emotional resonance rather than the substance of a meaningfully written scene.

But hey.

Fanfic writers will have a field day with the open-ended dynamic and the fandom will never fucking stop, so that's nice.

Also we got loads of fantastic gifs of Young Silco. Bless.

<3

tl;dr: I've switched my critical brain off and decided to just enjoy the ride. It's so fucking epic. 

Also, Felicia was delightful and I hope her brotherhood/polycule/whatever with Silco and Vander gets its own spinoff, a la Road to El Dorado (or Zaun.)

[vettelsvee]

Hey, how's it going?I have been thinking, for me, Seb gives off a GREAT vibe of a big family guy, who has a big family with the person he loves, my opinion of course. Could you write something like this?

E a propósito, adoro tudo o que você escreve!!

ROADTRIP TO MONACO | Sebastian Vettel

f1 masterlist | ao3 | requests or let's talk!

retired sebastian vettel x wife!reader

word count: 2894

summary: seb and a pregnant y/n go and have a trip to monaco with their three little ones after seb's retirement

warnings: none, just mentions of pregnancy sickness as y/n is on her first term of her pregnancy! fluff, lots of fluff, and dad!seb

a/n: i love that seb. i actually love seb and oscar so much that the only thing i want to do is write about them. i'll be waiting your feedback, comments and requests please! and also, don't forget reblogs are truly appreciated (also, so close to 1k! tysm to you all because i most of the times feel surreal with all of this and how much you seem to enjoy my fics). also, anon: hope you like this!

© VETTELSVEE (2024). please, do not steal, copy or translate my works. thanks for reading!

The soft melody of an alarm broke through the darkness of the bedroom Sebastian and you shared around one-thirty in the morning, interrupting the couple's deep sleep. Sebastian, still startled by the noise, managed to quickly stretch his arm to turn off the alarm in an attempt to fully wake up. Meanwhile, you rubbed your eyes, fighting against the tiredness.

"Is it already time to get up, sunshine?" you asked sleepily.

"Yes, darling, it's time," Seb nodded as he sat up in bed. "If we want to get to Monaco on time and avoid Charles from killing us. We should leave in about an hour and a half."

You yawned, curling up under the blankets.

"But it's too early, love… Don't you think we could, and should, sleep a little longer?"

Sebastian approached you and gently stroked your hair. He was aware that the fourth pregnancy was being a bit challenging for you compared to the previous three, despite being only in the second month.

If fatigue, nausea and dizziness were making life difficult for you at the moment, he didn't want to imagine how you would feel four months from now.

"Y/N, sweetheart, don't worry. Let me be in charge of waking up the kids and getting everything ready. You stay here and rest a little longer, okay? I promise I'll let you know when everything is ready so you only have to get in the car."

You looked at him with a tired but grateful expression. Still, you knew you had to help prepare the final details of the trip, and most importantly, make sure the kids were perfectly ready..

"Are you sure? I don't want you to take on all the work, really," you expressed with concern in your voice. "Even though I'm tired, I can help you..."

"I'm absolutely sure, darling," the man interrupted, smiling and giving you a warm kiss on the forehead. "These are the kinds of things I retired for, so focus on going back to sleep, alright? I'll see you in a bit, liebe."

"Sebastian…" you spoke again. "I'm really serious: we're in this together, and I don't want you to handle everything alone. It's a family trip, not a trip of Seb with his three kids. I want to help."

He admired your determination, but he wanted you to be treated as you deserved.

"I know, Y/N," he explained, "but I also know how tired you are. Really, allow yourself not to worry about your kids for once. I promise I'll wake you up soon enough so you can get ready."

You nodded, trying to avoid continuing the conversation and settling back into bed, closing your eyes and trying to sleep without thinking about how long your husband might take to prepare your kids.

Meanwhile, Sebastian left the room with determination and headed towards the children's rooms. Emily, Charlotte and Matilda slept all in different rooms, so he went from door to door, opening them gently and affectionately, and then approaching each bed.

He first woke up Charlotte, the middle one, who rubbed her eyes and looked at her father, confused.

"Dad, what's going on?" she asked, puzzled. "Did you have a nightmare and want to sleep with me? Or is mom having the baby?"

"No, no," Sebastian chuckled at his seven-year-old daughter's antics. "It's time to wake up. Remember we're going to Monaco today."

The little girl's eyes lit up immediately.

"Yes, that's right! We're going to your old workplace!"

After letting her fully wake up, the head of the family went to the room of the youngest, Matilda, who was four years old.

"Matilda, wake up, honey," whispered Vettel, giving her a gentle tap on her shoulder. "We have an exciting day ahead. We're going to see those fast cars daddy used to drive."

The youngest Vettel lazily stretched in his small bed and yawned. Sebastian then smiled, picking her up while she just wanted to hug Seb. 

"That's what I like to see, little one," he commented, tousling her hair. "Let me dress you so mom doesn't have to worry too much, okay?"

Both the children and Sebastian hurried to get ready. There was no doubt that, despite the sleepiness, the family was full of energy and excitement for what awaited them in the country about seven hours from their residence.

After also waking up Emily, your eldest, and making sure all of them were ready, Seb put cartoons on the living room TV to keep the children entertained and returned to his room, where you were still resting, seemingly peacefully asleep.

"Honey, the kids are ready. They're waiting for us in the living room. Are you feeling better?" he whispered as softly as he could, gently stroking your arm.

You opened her eyes and sat up in bed, stretching aggressively. “Thank you so much for getting our little devils ready, I owe you one."

He tenderly kissed you on the lips.

"You don't owe me anything, you did enough effort to bring them into the world and act as both father and mother when I wasn't around. Let me help you get ready, we have a great day ahead."

Quickly, Seb helped you change you clothes, gently touching your small but already slightly prominent pregnant belly. Once you were finally dressed in sportswear for comfort, you both walked hand in hand out of the room and headed to the living room, where your children were already waiting impatiently.

After making sure everything was ready and the kids had no further needs, you all headed to the garage, quickly getting into the family car. While Sebastian made sure the suitcases fit perfectly in the trunk, you took care of buckling the children up and offering them a few games or movies to keep them entertained on the way, although you were quite aware they would end up asleep.

"Are you all ready?" you inquired, turning around from the passenger seat and looking at her children with a smile as Seb began to start the car.

"Yes, mommy, let's go!" exclaimed little Matilda, who received cheers from her sisters.

With the car's engine purring softly, they set off on the Swiss roads amidst the darkness of the night, which, despite being synonymous with tiredness, brought a surge of energy to the youngest members of the family, where conversations and plans for Monaco came to the forefront.

"Do you think grandpa Norbert is going to come, Dad? I heard you talking to him the other day," exclaimed Charlotte, once again showing her admiration for Sebastian's sister. "Is grandma Heike coming too?"

"I want to hear the loud noises of the cars and see how fast they go," Emily added immediately, excited.

Sebastian smiled as he drove, very happy to hear the excitement of his children and, especially, to be sharing such an experience with you all not only after his retirement.

As the hours went by, tiredness arrived, and the children fell asleep. Quite the opposite happened with you: you woke up when you no longer heard the sudden conversations between the siblings. As you progressed along the winding roads and approached Monegasque territory, the sky began to lighten, giving them a beautiful sunrise.

"Look, honey, the sun is rising," you commented to Seb, pointing to the horizon stained with warm colors. "I can't believe we're finally arriving in Monaco after weeks of waiting..."

After a couple more hours of driving, and lively conversation among the family resulting from a brief stop for breakfast and in your case, vomiting a couple of times, you arrived in Monaco. The city looked completely different from any other time of the year as the streets were adorned with flags and banners for the Grand Prix. Furthermore, the grandstands, the paddock, and the countless yachts docked in the harbor made Monte Carlo seem even richer than it already was.

"We're here, guys," Sebastian announced to his children sweetly. "If you need something, just make sure to tell me, alright?”

Seb parked the Mercedes in a parking lot reserved for VIP guests, and then got out of the car to help you. He made then a phone call, possibly to Leclerc, your kids began to stroke your belly. You reacted early and quickly moved them away, aware that journalists and paparazzi could discover the secret.

"Let's follow dad, guys," you whispered to them, getting down to their level. "And remember: no one, not Uncle Charles or anyone who asks you, can know that dad and I have made a little baby, okay?"

The children nodded in response to your question, which somewhat reassured you were still nervous. However, the excitement began to set in as you walked alongside your kids, following Seb towards the place where the free practice sessions would take place, partially pushing aside your worries. The sound of the engines grew louder with each step you took, with the youngest of the family covering her ears with his little hands.

"Look, mommy: there's the Ferrari team!" exclaimed Emily pointing towards the red team's garage.

Charles appeared in his racing suit, as Free Practice was set to begin in just thirty minutes.

As soon as he spotted your husband, who was slightly ahead of all of you, he raised his arms in the air with great joy at seeing him again on the circuits, a wide smile adorning his face.

"Charles!" exclaimed Seb when he finally reached the Monegasque, giving him a strong hug. "Thank you so much for inviting us. You have no idea how much I appreciate it. The kids are very excited to be here, and especially to see you."

Leclerc returned the hug to the German, reminiscing about the two years they were teammates.

"You don't have to thank me, Seb," replied the Ferrari driver. "I'm sure Emily and Charlie remember something, but I know it's all new for Matilda. Anyway, I'm sure they'll enjoy it like the first time, just like Y/N!"

As the conversation continued between the two men, you and the kids surrounded the Ferrari driver, who felt a bit shy seeing the children's excited faces.

"Thank you, Charles," you expressed with your little ones embracing you somewhat shyly. "We're very grateful that you made it possible for us to come," you leaned closer to the Monegasque and whispered: "and don't tell anyone, but despite Ferrari's shitty strategies, you're doing great."

After a few minutes of conversation catching up on your respective live, and where Seb almost revealed you were expecting your fourth child, Charlotte, Emily and Matilda crowded around Charles, excited to see their father's former teammate again. Despite the constant denials from the team engineers, he managed to let your kids have a close look at his car.

"Look," said Charles, excitedly, pointing to the vehicle, "this is the car I'll be practicing with today, and that's my teammate's, Carlos," he pointed to the car beside it. "What do you think?"

The children's eyes widened with passion as they began to examine the car closely.

"Can we touch it, Uncle Charles?" asked the four-year-old, grabbing Leclerc's race suit pants.

Charles smiled, nodding enthusiastically, inwardly melting at the scene he was witnessing. He wished he could see himself like that with Olivia in a few years.

"Of course, but do it quickly so you father doesn’t get fined again," he said jokingly.

While the kids explored the car, and after you joined them shortly after, Charles and Seb began to converse animatedly yet seriously about the expectations for the Grand Prix and the sensations he had so far in the 2024 Formula 1 season.

The sudden hustle in the Ferrari garage made it clear that Free Practice 1 was about to begin. Sebastian and Charles had their conversation interrupted when Leclerc's beloved engineer insisted he get into the car as soon as possible. It was finally time for you to head to the corresponding grandstand to enjoy the practice session.

The Monegasque was forced, much to his regret, to interrupt his conversation with the your husband. Seb, however, understood, and immediately turned to you all, who were eagerly waiting to go to the best spot to watch the cars go around.

"Come with me, kids," notedhim, "it's time to go up to the VIP grandstand to get a better view of the session."

Taking Matilda in his arms, holding his daughters' hands with his free hand, and with you on his left, you all formed a little chain to avoid getting lost in the commotion on you way to the designated spot.

You were moved by the scene you were witnessing. Holding onto Seb's free arm, you tried to control your tears as your followed your husband's lead.

Minutes later, you had found your reserved seats, but numerous fans who had recognized Seb had delayed him. You were used to this, as were your kids. Moreover, none of your minded as they were aware that Seb had done great things for and in the world of motorsport.

“Look dad!”, exclaimed Emily excitedly as her father sat down next to her, “That's Charles! He's going really fast!”

"Yes, he's going fast indeed, Emily," Seb answered, still in shock at what he was witnessing after many time.

As the practice hour progressed, you captured some moments of the family with your camera, all of them fully caught up in the energy emanating from the circuit at that moment. The applause and words of encouragement, though impossible to hear for the drivers, were felt as the local hero made his appearance on the track.

When it came to an end, faster than they thought, you all made your way back to the Ferrari garage, where Charles had promised to meet his former teammate after the session.

Once there, you saw the blue-eyed with his girlfriend, Alexandra, engaged in lively conversation, likely about what had happened on the track during the previous hour. Charles, upon seeing Sebastian with you at the garage door, hurried over as fast as he could.

"Seb, I thought you'd be gone!" he exclaimed excitedly. "I didn't get to see you: you know, speed problems," he laughed at his own bad joke, "but I'm sure you had a good time, and your amazing wife and kids did too, right?"

Matilda and Charlotte shouted in unison. You and Emily nodded quickly.

"I'm really impressed, Charles," Vettel said enthusiastically. "Apart from the track being in wonderful condition, the weather cooperating, and not having too many idiots running around today, your performance has been incredible."

Alex joined the conversation, greeting your and the kids first, and then Seb.

"It's been wonderful seeing you in the stands. I wish I didn't have to stay locked up in the garage all day, but there are these crazy Charles fangirls out there..." she joked.

You laughed at the comment. If she only knew all that you had to go through in the early years of your relationship with Seb…

"Anyways…" Leclerc began, placing his arm around his girlfriend's waist. "Alex and I have been talking these past few days and we'd like to ask you if you'd like to join us for dinner tonight. It would be nice for us to spend some time together, just relaxing, and celebrate that you've finally come back around here," he explained, looking directly at your husband.

"But really, if it's any inconvenience for you," she hurried to add, "or if you need to head back home or..."

Sebastian looked at you, who nodded excitedly at the proposal.

"It would be an honor, Charles."

After exchanging details for the dinner, they bid farewell momentarily due to Leclerc's press commitments. During that time, you returned to the hotel where you would stay for a couple of days to freshen up and prepare for dinner, as managing three children wasn't an easy or simple task.

When you met again, this time at the restaurant, you were warmly welcomed by its members. Dinner unfolded amid laughter and lively conversations, mostly revolving around Formula 1 anecdotes and your private lives.

As the night progressed, Seb and Charles delved into deeper topics about the world that absorbed so much of their lives. Alex and you, on the other hand, got to know each other more and realized they had more in common than you initially thought.

The children, meanwhile, were having the time of their lives: Charlie, Emily, and Matilda, who fell asleep early, spent the night playing games with the young couple, who still seemed like kids in your eyes.

"I hope you've enjoyed the day, guys," Charles said, raising his glass of wine. "I hope we can enjoy many more moments together, especially when the little one comes because, Y/N, I know there’s a reason why you’re not drinking alcohol when you like wine so much."

"Cheers!" you all exclaimed while you tried not to get nervous and more shy than you actually were, laughing at the revealed secret. 

As you continued to enjoy the delicious food, along with the laughter and entertaining stories, you knew that trip to Monaco would become a cherished memory in the years to come. There was no doubt you should definitely do this more often and, above all, around the world if given the chance, something you had been waiting for years.

[saturnmosaic]

succulent berries nestled in the yard.

pairing : ellie williams x female reader

synopsis : ellie, your wife, gives your cat away, out of envy or circumstance, you can't tell. leaving behind the past, you and your wife move into a new home. but with a relationship on the brink of ravage, the house seems to harbor sinister forces. and with the insatiable hunger for berries you discovered in the yard, things crumble rather fast.

warnings : pussy eating, mentions of miscarriage, animal deaths, blood, cannibalistic yearning, figures/ creatures sorta?? haunted house.

wc : 1.8k

a/n : um yeah...it's kinda bad and not executed well but i wrote this during the week of my exams, can you blame me? also i got kinda lazy during sum bits sooo

betrayal lingers in the car, stirring amidst the crisp air of the AC. the tapping of the rain against the mist covered windows, like the rhythmic pumping of your ruptured heart, does no good to the gnawing feeling inside you. how could she have given away your blythe. the tiny creature always so nimble on her feet at the call of her name, so fond of seeking slumber on your lap.

you’d found her on a similar day like this— grey hues enveloping the sky, water droplets crashing the tender and moist earth with all their might, and the rumbling of thunder in the distance. amidst all that chaos, her meek meow had stood out. her black fur was sleek with the heavy rain, and her belly was smeared plum dark.

you’d taken her home on an impulse. time and medical care healed her. and she had healed you. a lovely year spent with her, reminiscent of a lilac bloom in the summer. but now she was gone, taken away from you by your own wife. your own wife! a blasphemy.

"are you still mad at me? we had no other choice." aventurine eyes dart away from the distorted road to get a glimpse of you. your eyes still bleary and bloodshot, hair ever so tousled, and the silk of your dress embracing your petal-like skin. a bittersweet sight.

"don't say we." not even a glance spared her way, the face you’d seek for in every room you entered, now a face foreign and surreal.

"oh come on, she was sick anyway. it was only a matter of days before she died!" her temper, planted in her like a tempting hydrangea, speaks before her rationale can articulate words, knuckles gripping the charcoal leather of the driving wheel.

"she was not sick."

she sighs, the guilt of her deed looming over her like a sickly, withered willow. “baby, we both know she was and i’m really sorry but we can’t do anything about it. we’re moving to a new town, a new house. bringing her with us would be..a burden. besides i’d rather you not witness her death, i don’t wanna see you suffer like that.”

“i’m already suffering, aren’t i?”

“well, what the fuck do you want me to do, huh? i’m just trying to do what’s right. a-and it’s like i’m always second to that cat!”

the confession, lays bare like an ornate scroll, and makes you ponder if envy was the cause of it. but was what she said entirely fallacious? maybe you had been giving blythe more attention that she’d felt frivolous in your eyes.

“just- i’m sorry, okay? but i promise jesse will take good care of her.”

silence ensues, and soon the quaint house surfaces into your eyesight. the rain and dusk obscured it's intricacy but from what you could make out, it was painted in warm whites and browns, with ivy weaving up the sides and windows curtained in white lace.

…

a house is a body, your mom used to tell you. a haven meant to be worshipped in return for solace and warmth. this house became your body. its walls were alive in the daylight, screeching and beckoning for something while ellie was at work. it fed on your sorrow and resentment like a famished beast, stripping them away to procure life. your heart was indented in these walls.

the house would foist bad omens on whoever visited. aunt daphne had a miscarriage, the frail thing of a baby was bled out on the black and white tiles of your bathroom. it stirred memories of your own miscarriage, and ellie thought that was the reason you leaned so heavily on blythe, loving her as though she were your own child. when uncle luke visited, his golden retriever was found dead in the yard, leaves sitting idly on its fur like an atonement.

ellie wasn't one to believe in curses or anything remotely superficial, but she'd felt something innately sinister residing in the hollow of the house. she wanted to move, but moving away meant leaving behind your body, so you stayed, which compelled her to stay rooted to the house too.

…

on a sunny morning, beads of sweat kissing your skin, damp hair heavy under the sun’s gaze, you’d been lead to the brambles in the yard by the house itself. the raspberries were glistening and plump with saccharine juice.

they might’ve been tainted with fox piss, so you gather them in a dainty basket and slip back into the confines of your home to wash them. the water from the tap cascades down onto the fruits in your hand, ridding them of the insect debris and other dirt.

a tatted arm snakes its way around your waist and a head heavy with sleep rests on your shoulder. it had almost slipped out of your mind that it was a weekend.

ellie's other arm reaches out to turn the tap off and put the dampened raspberries away from your hand. without warning, pearly whites bite down on your neck and her tongue flicks out to languidly soothe the bruised splotch.

a carnal desire courses through your veins. ever since you moved here, and ever since blythe was no longer in your gentle arms, words barely existed anymore. and sometimes silence felt like a human presence, mocking the insubstantial souls around it. without words, sex was your salvation.

she turns you around to hoist you up on the counter, shadows smudged under her eyes. she'd come back from work late last night, you figure.

her calloused hands are on your thighs, pushing them apart with a fervor. a similar fervor that'd paint itself on her whenever you showed her a hint of normalcy. your hands still in her tousled hair, as the velvety pads of her fingertips tug your underwear off.

her knees hit the marble tiles, warmed by the sunlight streaming in through the kitchen windows, as she lifts the fabric of your dress up, a gentle rustle against the morning ambience, revealing your slick folds.

her tongue teases your weeping cunt, one hand clutching the dress up and the other resting on your thigh. you whimper in desperation, pushing her head further.

“ellie..”

she pats your thigh in response, fucking you with her warm muscle, feeling your insides devour it with a hanker. noises flow out of your mouth as smoothly as the tranquil descent of a waterfall, as your fingers dig into her scalp.

a sultry moan muffles into your hole, and she pulls back, the taste of you lingering on her tongue.

“what the fuck? why’d you-” your whine is silenced by the solace of her lips. her tongue slides into your mouth and presses against your own, slick and insistent. your own taste dissolves into your mouth, mending with your saliva.

you bite the soft pillow of her lower lip, drawing crimson liquid and earning a throaty noise from her. somewhere between a moan and a grunt.

“babe..” she lowers her gaze in an attempt to catch sight of the fresh blood. before she can wipe it away with the pad of her thumb, you lick the red off her pillowy cushion of flesh.

the taste is seraphic as it sits on your taste buds, a pure bliss, like thyme on a wound. the sensation of her tongue back inside your clenching walls heightened this feeling, if not subdued it wholly. but the taste still lingered.

her fingers soothe your swollen clit, circling around it as if afraid it’ll be seized from her grasp someday.

she laps at every drop of juice that manifests, like she’d done to your tears, as a fatuous inside joke, a long while ago. so long, she can’t remember if it was a hazy dream.

“fuck. i’m so close.”

her mouth pulls away when you reach your pleasant climax, her fingers still on your clit, helping you through your high. your hands go limp in her hair, and she languidly wipes the glistening slick from her mouth and chin with the back of the hand that releases your bunched dress.

...

the berries stay forgotten until the next morning, when it’s delicacy is withered and rotten away under the exposure to air and temperature. you throw the shrivelled fruits away and pick several more.

the new ripe ones sit snug in a ceramic bowl, alluring and tender. you feast on ten, eleven, twelve, and then the count numbs in your brain. the fluid so grossly alike to ellie’s blood, makes you delirious. it’s utterly enthralling, the juice dripping down your chin, its sticky residue settling on your skin. your teeth and lips and hands stained in a crimson hue, a crimson hue reminiscent of ellie’s blood. ellie’s blood. they chant themselves on the tip of your tongue.

spindled figures, engraved on the floors, long limbs and pulsing eyes, they seem to close in on you. the bowl is emptied, raspberries already in the pit of your stomach. the yearning grows in agony, an animalistic desire surging through the ivory of your bones.

you feel light like you’re meandering through the air, though you can feel the faces of the figures underneath your feet, something metallic making its home in your hand.

you blink and you're standing in your bedroom, ellie coddling her apatosaurus plushie, as her eyes stay fluttered. a vulnerability so immensely coating the room. the knife glides down her supple skin, the smell of meat stirring your senses. was her heart the sweetest part of her body?

"what the fuck are you doing?" her raspy voice cuts through your trance and suddenly the object in your hand feels foreign. with a sharp yank to your arm, the metal clanks on the marble floor.

"what is wrong with you?" ellie's gripping your arms, her face contorted with disbelief, shock and wrath.

"n-nothing." but something is. you both know. tears gush through your eyes, the salty pearls melding with the sweet smear of berries on your skin.

"god, it's this fucking house! we should've moved. fuck!" her grasp on your arms are gone, her hands fumbling for her phone. frustration envelopes her like a smothering blanket as she talks to demolition contractors.

your pleas fall on deaf ear, your mere presence as measly as a lamb. you let yourself be escorted out of the house, eyes sodden, red flickering in them, as you watch- watch the house your body collapse to the ground.

the berries come retching out of your mouth, along with a hideous flow of blood. the walls crumble and the world around you dances like an uncanny painting. sirens wail in the distance and layers of black pierce through your eyes, shutting them for slumber.

[bedouinpoet]

Leader, lover, sir, and broken dream

Aaron Hotchner x (BAU) fem reader

Continuation of Permission and offices and punishments. Three part story. Took me a hot minute to finish it but hope you like it part 2 and 3 will be done soon! Hope you enjoy my lovelies. Not much SMUT in this chapter but a ton in the next two chapters 🫣

CHAPTER 1

It had been a year since Haley was murdered by George Foyet aka the reaper. That day tore down everything for Hotch…for Jack…and for you. Her funeral was the day Aaron Hotchner decided to end it with you. You felt your heart rip apart he was pushing you away. After everything you both went through together, even when Haley and Jack were in witness protection things may have gotten rocky but you got to be there for him but there was this feeling of guilt that you were together while they were in witness protection. But you and the team were all doing everything you possibly could to take Foyet down but when all was said and done…you remember that day, every day like it was only moments before.

…

1 year ago, Haley’s funeral.

Everything feels so surreal for the whole team, everyone just trying to see what you could do for Aaron “I just feel so awful, maybe I should send them gift basket or or or I don’t know home made cookies, or brownies or wine I don’t know-“ you give Pen a hug to cool down her spiral as she starts to tear up “hey whatever you give them they will love, Jack happens to love double chocolate and Hotch likes simple chocolate chip you wink and wipe away her tears “they’ll be okay pen, its just gonna take time and a whole lot of support from us when their ready” She smiles and nods giving you one more grateful hug. You spend an hour talking with people sharing memories, you notice Hotch has been avoiding you but you shake it off you can’t imagine what he’s going through all you can do is be patient and be there for him as best you can but its getting hard when all you want to do is hold him, tell him it will be alright. Give Jack-o-lantern a big hug. But for some reason you can’t. You keep glancing at Hotch and notice he started fidgeting with his index and thumb, he always does that when he’s nervous or a million miles away so you shoot him a text

Y/N: Hey, if you need a drink or some fresh air just let me know , how are you right now? <3

You see Hotch take his phone, read your text…then put it back, he’s never done that, he really is avoiding you. You once again shake it off as Derek comes over beside you. “He’ll be okay pretty girl” and you start to feel your eyes burn with tears, the emotions you’ve been burying rise to the surface, Morgan is always able to get you and he hugs you without you needing to say a word and you stay in his arms for a moment “I know guess I just feel so useless. How are you feeling by the way DM?” He laughs into your hair, you started calling him that after a flirty joke you told Morgan to piss off Hotch and get punished after work “Derek Morgan can fill my DM’s anytime”

Hotch tied you to the bed and didn’t let you cum for an hour after that.

“I’m alright pretty girl just worried about Hotch and Jack but they are both tough they’ll get through it” you find yourself hugging him tighter not realizing how badly you needed to be hugged like this….then you get a text

Hotch: meet me outside in five…please…the balcony

you turn to see but Hotch is already gone. As you step out onto the balcony you face Aaron’s back. Even after everything he’s gone through he always stands tall, the air and silhouette of a leader. And he fidgets with his index and thumb, you clear your throat and he turns around his face softens from surprise to familiarity “you were a million miles away huh?” He tilts his head in curiosity and it takes everything in you to not just go and kiss that adorable face…but some thing about the way he looks at you stops you. Even from grabbing his hand. You just put your hands in your pockets “What’s up handsome? Where’s your head at right now?” He swallows hard and for the first time ever it seems like Aaron Hotchner….was scared to say whatever he wanted to say. “Aaron? What is it? talk to me” you reach for his hand finally and for a moment everything is okay for a moment Hotch is back to being your Hotch, your Aaron, then it crashes, he lets go of your hands and ”I don’t think we should continue this anymore…”

”I’m sorry? Continue what?”

”this….us…”

you try and tell yourself this is a trick of your mind, your ears something in your body is just playing some sick joke…it must be

“wait…are you ….Aaron are you breaking up with me?”

You see Hotch’s eyes swell with tears and you know one more word and the dam breaks as he nods

“what? No? Aaron, Hotch honey right now you’ve gone through something unimaginable and its fine if you need me to give you and Jack some space to settle but please please don’t do this, don’t do what you always do when your in pain don’t push me away we don’t have to end this, us, after how hard we-“

”but we do don’t you see? Haley-“

the dam shatters to a million pieces but he keeps going “While Haley and jack- my son! Were in witness protection , while Foyet was hunting them like dogs, you and I were” his sobs began to break through and it was like time stopped for you as you felt every brick of the wall he tore down, slowly build back up. You say nothing as he continues “I just can’t…I don’t know if we can go past this cause everytime we’ve kissed since…I just can’t…I think its safer if we just stop now”

”Safer for whom?” You want to cry, to shout, to push him, to hug him but you can’t you just stand there eyes burning looking at the man you love push you away and your entirely powerless. You notice your question took him by surprise

“well…you said safer …safer for whom, you or me? Cause I think you’re scared, and hurt and so you do what you always do when you’re in pain and your scared of losing someone else you love and I think that’s really why your saying this”

don’t cry is all you can think as as Hotch cries. You realize you’ve never really seen him cry like this and you also realize . He is already going through hell, if this is what he wants you can’t make it harder on him especially not now.

“No I’m saying this because it’s the truth. Right now I need to focus on Jack we are done…I’m sorry y/n I really really am…tell me what I can do-“

“nothing-“

”wh-what?”

”there is nothing you can do…you clearly Made your choice. I wont beg, and I wont make this harder for you right now you need to take care of yourself and Jack …it’s fine I understand . It was nice while it lasted and hopefully we can still be friends especially since we work together -“

“of course but y/n-“

he tries to grab your hand but its too late you are already walking away with a text from Morgan

Derek: we got another case :(

“its fine Hotchner….no worries I get it goodbye” no more calling him Aaron…Aaron was for a different time a happier time so you leave making sure not to look back or else he’d see the tears streaming down your face and your body almost shut down….as you walk away from your dream and build back those brick walls this time with iron steel

…

back to present 1 year later

”remind me again why we can’t make paperwork illegal?”

You sigh placing another file on the mountain on your desk, leaning back on your chair you allow yourself a glance at Hotch. Since the breakup you have kept your distance but he always made it so hard. After a few months he started having you drive in the the same car again, teaming up more often and you always made sure to act like you didn’t care.

“I know what you mean pretty girl Damn, my hand is about become a permanent claw if only SOMEONE would take us out of our misery and can read all this in five minutes…what do you say pretty boy?”

you and Morgan both look at Reid with pleading eyes, you’re practically pouting and without even looking up from his page Reid shakes his head smiling “not a chance”

“ughhhhh” you and Derek both groan in unison

“I think that’s Spence”s way of saying ‘how can you do your job properly without doing the paper work or the statistics on how we can we improve our speed reading by doing more paperwork-“

“actually statistically the average person learns their reading timing by the age of 15 although with practice you can improve your timing by practice but its best to practice before the age of 40 or else it becomes far more difficult. So Technincally the human mind can learn to read 4.5 seconds faster the more you train it to skim whilst still retaining the information-“

“Spence Spence….JJ was just being sarcastic hun” you pat him on the shoulder “bless my wee lamb” (every time you call him that he blushes how could you resist) “ohhhh” he mearly nods and continues to read as you all laugh before continuing your own work. When you see Pen coming out of Hotch’s office…”we have a case my lovelies…off to the round table my knights of shining armour…or leather for my handsome man and pretty girl Morgan and y/n”

you and Morgan high five in mini celebration “saved by the bell!”

“So you are all heading to Dallas Texas home of hot cowboys, horses annnnd creepy serial killers apparently…this is Victoria Baird a 23 year old sophomore in college, last night she was taken from her car after a frat party….”

“Any idea if she was on anything?”

”not according to her friends apparently she rarely drinks and last night she was the appointed designated driver-“ before you could ask anything further you notice Pens face fall further “alas my beautiful family there’s more and the real reason Dallas PD invited us….this is Patty Sybil, Cherry Smith, Liz Barton, in the past three weeks each were grabbed on a Friday and found the next Friday, ME says they were dead less then an hour before they were found so they were killed that day.”

“One a week that’s a short cooling off period, all brunettes, short hair, brown to hazel eyes, he definitely has a type these girls look like they could be sisters-“ you notice Hotch’s eyes never leaving you…maybe he notices what you unfortunately already picked up on…these girls looked a hell of lot like you….you remember comforting JJ a lot when the cases had to do with young blond women around her age and looked like her….it was tough…and now you understand even more how it can make you feel when the victimology hits too close to home…its a haunting feeling but you shake is off reminding yourself this is about them and finding the son of a bitch hurting these innocent girls all because they wanted to party…these girls had a right to feel safe no matter what they were doing. And its about finding Victoria-

“if we’re right Victoria Baird only has till Friday to live… wheels up in 20” Hotch is the first to grab his go bags and leave. You, Reid and JJ agree to get the coffee on your way promising Em to pick up her caramel Machiatto with soy.

…..

On the Plane you take your usual corner seat legs up leaning against the wall. Missing the days when you always sat by Hotch, secretly getting a hand grab or thigh grab when no one was watching but you liked your corner, your corner was safe, your corner was farthest away from Hotch but still part of the conversation. You try to make notes in the file as you notice a pattern.

“Hey Pen?”

“Yes beautiful girl?”

“You said that Victoria was the DD and apparently Cherry Smith was partying with her friends but she was 4 years sober and apparently didn’t break it…what was Liz Bartons drinking habit? Especially the night she was taken?” Everyone looks down except Hotch whose eyes remain on you hanging on your every word. “thaaaat is a good question….acording to her friends she wasn’t much of a drinker and…” Garcia’s eyes widen, you were right “she was the DD the night she was taken”

“THATS another connection our unsub likes the responsible type but why? I mean it would be a lot easier to take someone when their inhibitions are lowered by alcohol, not that I’m victim blaming ever…person has every right to go enjoy themselves and be safe doing it but yet the unsub takes those whose alert is probably at the highest..”

“why do you say that?” Reid gives you your coffee and sits besides you as you share your blanket

“when you’re a girl…and with your girlfriends you know the risks…all girls do and when your the DD there is an unspoken responsibility to keep tabs on everyone to keep your girls safe and-“

For a moment you picture yourself in the bar as the unsub, who and what would you look for? How to catch her off guard. Your brain is going faster then you realize until you hear Hotch’s voice bring you back to reality as he seems to read your mind, he always does.

“Which makes her the perfect target, she’s so focused on everyone else’s safety she doesn’t pay attention to the man that’s focused on her” you nod your head taking a moment longer to keep eye contact with Hotch so you quickly look away clearing your suddenly dry throat.

“Exactly! Plus her other friends were intoxicated so none of them are paying much attention to the perv in the corner”

you find yourself able to sit a bit taller and you try not to smile but you always feel this way when you crack something new in the case, a small insurance that you belong in this team. But your smile fades as you notice Hotch looking at you even while Rossi’s talking and you can’t read his eyes but you swear there’s a hint of a smile in his face, pride? No that can’t be it you think looking away and staying relatively quite the rest of the flight only talking to Spencer who’s feet are now up as you both share the blanket comfortably and he rests his hand casually on your shin that’s by him covered up. Hotche’s eyes darken as he notices the level of casual touch between you two. The moment you landed in Dallas it was non stop. Hotch tried to pair you off with him when “actually is it ok if y\n comes with me? I think she could give more insight plus she’s the youngest and college students would be more likely to open up to her-“

“plus my wee lamb needs a wing woman with all them college girls” you hug Reid and kiss his cheek teasingly as he fake pushes you away but you notice Reid’s blush and Hotch stares daggers in your directions but he gave in “fine- Reid and y/n you two go to the college and the frat house Victoria was last seen in, JJ you’re with me to coordinate with local law enforcement” and you all part says in your respective SUVs “don’t worry wee lamb you can be passenger princess” you wink at Reid and he shakes his head and laughs “gee thanks”…..

“so do you remember if anyone was paying particular attention to Victoria? Anyone come up to her?” Reid begins to ask questions to the victims friend Lindsey as you look outside of the frat house, no signs of a struggle. “No-no I don’t know there was a few guys, but everyone loved Vickie and she’s so pretty-“

you sense a tinge of jealousy at those final words as she looked off when she spoke. You and Reid gave knowing looks, you’d discuss that later. “Did she reject anyone? Any of them take it hard?” You ask stepping closer. Lindsey shakes her head “I don’t think so, it was just a fun party everyone having a good time” you could tell she was holding something back. You push further. “Come on Lindsey…I need you to think, you said a few guys hit on her? So she must have rejected at least one of ‘em at least right? Think”

“okay yea…yea one of the guys struck out with Vic, he was this shorter white guy, he kept trying but Vic just wasn’t into it, he throw a glass on the ground, so a couple of the guys kicked him out”

Reid adds on to the questioning “do you remember anything else about the guy? Hair colour maybe? Eyes, anything distinctive?” “yea blond I think but the lights were crazy that night, colourful, and music was loud bumpin-“

Reid looks at you for translation and you laugh lightly

“she means the music was good ya nerd”

you nudge him, loving his innocence even when he’s supposed to be the older one…

the rest of the day went the same way, two more mentions of the supposed “short blonde white dude” but with no other descriptions or leads, Hotch called it a night. As you step up to the front desk of the hotel a feeling of Deja vu washed over you when the women says “sorry agents we’re almost entirely full a couple conferences in the city we only have four rooms available, two king, two double twin”

Before anyone could say anything Rossi takes one of the kings for himself “sorry kids I am not sharing a room again too old and consider this pay back for the two bottles of hundred dollar scotch you party animals drank at my house.” Everyone rolled their eyes but you couldn’t argue as he was already walking to the elevator waving while it closed, Emily and JJ paired off which left you with Morgan, Reid ….and Hotch. Whatever happens you knew you couldn’t pair off with Hotch it would be too hard, too painful. Your head spiralled, Hotch was clearly looking at you ready to speak when Reid saves the day and you could just kiss him for it “hey y/n wanna room? We can watch that documentary on Arthurian history we talked about?” You can’t help but smile widely loving your bestie more and more. “hell yea we can, but we are gonna have to get some chips, can’t have a documentary night without proper snack action, we’ll take the king” you wink at Reid and he shakes his head as you notice Hotch staring at you with a shocked expression at your ease to share a bed with your bestie. But Reid breaks the tension. “Deal ill go get them and meet you upstairs”

”sounds gucci handsome I’ll take your bag just get my chips.” You grab Reids go bag and you nudge Morgan as you notice him laughing “y’all really are nerds…I mean I expected that from pretty boy but you too y/n?”

“Hey! I’m a nerd and proud you’re just jelly cause you aren’t part of the King Arthur legends snack party” you stick your tongue out and tease morgan more as Hotch hands him the room key pretending to ignore the conversation but you could tell he’s hanging on every word. You all go into the elevator and you put your bag and Reid’s bag down giving your exhausted arms a break. When the elevator door opens on your teams floor before you can react Hotch grabs your bag silently, you don’t argue you just grab Reids bag and head to your door, before Morgan steps into his own room he makes sure to wink at you “hey you and pretty boy better not get too crazy.” “no promises” you wink back sticking your tongue out as you go into your own hotel room followed closely by Hotch so close you feel yourself barely able to breath. As you get into the room you gently put Reid’s bag down on the rather smaller looking king size bed then as you turn around you notice Hotch putting your bag down on the bench close to the door, staring at the bed, looking none too happy. The silence deafening so you try to break it as casually as possible “welllp thanks Hotch!”

“What’s going on between you and Reid?”

and that hit of Deja vu strikes again for the second time today remembering him asking a similar question regarding Morgan. Yet you’re still caught by surprise by the question all the same. “I’m sorry?” His face remains at his neutral seriousness but his jaw is clenching, he does that when he’s proper angry. “are you and agent Reid dating yes or no?” You start to feel anger sizzling at his authoritative, ownership tone. As if he has some right to know everything about your sex or relationship life. This time for some reason you wanna see where this goes so you play with him. “maybe….its not really your concern Hotchner” it was his turn to act surprised. “excuse me? It’s my business as your boss-“

you feel your emotions starting to bubble to the surface and shockingly it’s followed by your eyes filling with tears

“oh for fuvk sakes Hotch don’t give me that Bull! Garcia and Kevin dated and it was fine. YOU AND I (the tears start to fall) and worked and did our job fine so don’t act like this is work related cause that’s bullshit Aaron Hotchner….you’re jealous and THATS the real reason and we both know it. Why can’t you just admit it!?” You feel your face burning, your whole body shakes and you feel, whatever was keeping you together, break, and you notice his fist clenching, his eyes darken and without half a second passing his hand is grabbing your waist and his lips crash into yours. In that moment you feel like you’re coming home. Your hands run through his hair your other hand grabbing his tie but as you feel his hand run under your shirt carressing your bare skin, something in you pushes him away, “no no I can’t do this-“ you take a step back

“y/n? What’s wrong?” His face flushed yet filled with concern and the dam breaks, the rope snaps. Your breath still heavy but you continue “we can’t do this…fuck why Hotch? Why? First you break up with me, you broke me! And now what ? You wanna fuck me just cause you see me with someone else on the team?” He shakes his head profusely “no-no no sweet-“

”don’t call me that! You lost the that right when you ended it…”

You notice the hurt in his eyes but you can’t you just can’t, he broke you last time. Hotch takes a deep breath

“okay…I apologize, but that’s not it y/n I-“

”Then what? Huh!?cause we both know-its only been a year, we fuck, I let you back in, then something makes you feel guilty and you drop me again….I can’t handle it I already lost you once….if I lose you again it would kill me, and this time I wouldn’t recover just-“ you feel your eyes burn with your pain “just get out Hotch, we’ll forget about the whole thing just go! Please!” Before he could protest you started to cry completely and your face spilt with your pain, apparently Hotch could see that because he didn’t argue, he stood up straight and walked out closing the door gently as you fall onto the bed, face in your hands trying to hide your hurt from the empty room as you feel yourself break all over again but you swore this time….you weren’t going to let him hurt you again….

to be continued

[ghostgirl-22]

Deck the halls 🎄💫

Day 3: Blow Job

CW: 18+ !NSFW!

Pair: Artrick

—-

Arts waking up mildly disoriented, feeling all warm and achingly aroused from his dream. Another one about the Junior US Open, the hottest thing about it every time he wakes up from one…is that it actually happened.

He hears Patrick sigh, Art’s been pressed up against him doing God knows what in his sleep. He blinks himself awake and remembers now that they fell asleep on the the living room floor, Patrick next to him spread out on couch cushions and blankets. His sister on the sofa. They’d had peppermint Jell-O shots. Disgusting but also really, really strong. Art sits up and looks over at the sofa… thankfully empty. The television is also off, fireplace put out. Only thing still on is the Christmas tree but outside is still deceptively light, it must’ve snowed after all.

Patrick sighs again and rolls over. “She’s been in her bed for hours, it’s okay.” He says, reassuringly, his hand falling on Arts waist.

Art feels the heat flood his cheeks. “I’m sorry,” Art murmurs. It might be embarrassing but it’s not the first time he’s shared a bed with Patrick and had a wet dream. Not even the first time he’s pressed up against him. It is the first time though that Patrick starts rubbing between his legs.

“Patrick, what are you—” Art gasps.

“t’s okay, lay down,” Patrick says, softly. It’s so quiet and warm Art feels oddly calm when Patrick moves in between his legs, sliding his checkered pajama pants down his thighs. So calm except his heart pounding in his ears.

“You were moaning in your sleep,” Patrick says, his breath ghosting along Arts bare thighs.

“I’m sorry,” Art whispers again. It’s bright enough that Art can see the way Patrick’s eyes sparkle from the light of the Christmas tree, as they fall over Art’s body. Art covers his face. It doesn’t stop the way his body is lighting up. Patrick doesn’t even have to do anything. Ever since the junior Open Patrick’s been looking at him like that. And every time it feels like a sin. Even messier on the floor of his parents living room.

“What time is it?” Art whispers, trying to ease the tension.

“Why? Do you want to know if Santa came?” Patrick teases.

Art rolls his eyes and then he feels it. Patrick kissing along his thighs, his tongue flitting along his balls. Teasing swipes along the underside of his cock. And after all the kissing that happened at the Open. And all the kissing that happened after… Art knows how good Patrick is with his tongue.

Art swallows down on a moan. His parents house is big, echoey. And god forbid somebody wake up and catch them. Art knows he should make him stop but Patrick is so warm and it feels so good. He feels the heat of Patrick’s mouth enveloping him properly before he lets it slide out. It feels and sounds so wet, Art can’t help moaning. He presses his hips up.

“Shh…You’re gonna get me in so much trouble,” Patrick says gently, rubbing Art's stomach and filling his mouth again.

Art plays his fingers into Patrick’s hair. He’s had blow jobs before but this feels surreal like an extension of his dream. Tashi’s lips, Patrick’s mouth, his whole body thrumming with need for both of them.

He pulls his knees up. Soon the only sound is the silent snowfall, Patrick breathing him in, the wet sound of sucking, and Art’s own stifled moaning, his voice foreign to his ears as he moves his hips helplessly into the feeling. Even as his body starts to sieze the force of it all takes him by surprise. He’s moaning so loud he has to pull one of the cushions over his face to muffle the sound as it moves through him.

“Fuck,” he whispers, as he’s coming down. He looks down at Patrick grinning up at him from between his legs. Hair messy, licking his lips, eyes still all sparkly and dilated. Feels too good.

Art sits up looking around to make sure it’s still quiet. “You think I’m gonna get coal in my stocking now?” He whispers, biting down on a grin.

“Getting drunk and then moaning like a slut on your grandmas rug the night before Christmas. Oh you’re going on the naughty list for sure,” Patrick smirks.

Art smiles gazing at him, the outline of his cock visible in his shorts. “You want me to try it?” He asks, shyly.

“Mmhm.”

“I’ve never done it before,” Art says, quietly.

“That’s okay, I can show you,” Patrick says.

“Okay but you have to promise to be quiet,” Art says softly, climbing onto his lap.

“Mm I promise,” Patrick says wrapping him up into a kiss.

[littlelesbinonny]

The Devil's Den

Chapter 46: In Which The Precipice of Wait Is Shifting

You can read this also on Ao3 at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46831621/chapters/142313560

How were you really supposed to know what you were feeling.

You were standing alone in your apartment that you'd lived in for almost 7 years now, and it couldn't have felt more foreign to you.

All of this was yours. You knew it all, front to back. But it didn't feel like home. The realness of that settled in your bones now; that you had made this your home, but it hadn't truly been.

You knew home now as being near and with Alcina. And somehow, reluctantly inside you, maybe even the underground. 

There was a tugging at both sides of you - the human world was all you'd ever known - but now you couldn't be more different - and what you once thought was the inability to fit in now paled in horrific comparison.

Did you even belong in the human world anymore? But did you really belong below?

Nothing felt real right now. You helped kill someone. A rather nasty person at that, but that wasn't the point, now was it. You, are not human. You were now charading as a character that no longer existed in a world drastically altered, even if just to yourself.

Surreal was a limiting sensation at best.

As you looked around at everything, the silence of the night held you while your mind went searching for answers and solutions for questions and problems that hadn't quite fully been presented yet.

There was so much you had to grapple with at the tips of your fingers but you didn't know how. Not a clue. Decisions were endless. Outcomes were uncertain, extensive. At least Alcina would buy you some time to try and figure it out. 

There was heavy doubt in your mind you could just return to your job and play pretend everything was fine and nothing had changed. There was no way you could sit in the dull, hum-drum, scheduled bullshit of office life any longer without the temptation to run away from it and know you could. Indefinitely. There was quite literally nothing to stop you at this point; you had no argument to make you stay unless you just simply wanted to.

And you didn't.

But were you ready to walk away?

Did that mean what normalcy of human life you were used to would come to a complete end? Would you have to give up the sunlight and walks in the park? Malka, Louis, your crows? Did you have to lead a life so much like vampires and lycans that you could hardly exist in the human world anymore?

And what about time?

Time would march on for you, yet it would stay still for Alcina. Were you prepared to make that kind of decision?

Your phone began to ring and it startled you, thankfully. But what the hell, it was 3 AM.

Malka's name popped up on your screen and you half cackled. That woman was nothing if not full of surprises.

"Hi Malka." You answered with a smile.

"Ketzeleeeeehhhh!" The older woman drawled with a gentle scolding, "your name isn't Lucy but you gotta lotta explaining to do!"

You started to chuckle and found a comfortable spot on the couch. This would be an hour long conversation, if not more.

~

Alcina sat hunched on the couch in her living room, forearms perched on her knees as she stared into the large black, crimson, emerald and gold throw rug at her feet. The ornate patterns and bold appearance was no real distraction from what she'd seen, but it was helping to scrub it away as the moments passed.

The experimentation room of which Dmitri spoke was located a short distance inside a much larger and expansive tunnel, which was dug who knows how many years ago, that was almost a straight shot to Miranda's lair in Connecticut to the cavern they'd discovered nestled next to them. While that gave them easy access to her manor with less time wasted on travel, it pissed Alcina off greatly.

This bitch was coming and going at her leisure right beside them the whole time without ever being found out. It had Alcina questioning if she had truly done this all alone or if there were other Elders or coven leaders involved. It made no sense all this construction had gone on fully unnoticed for over 20 years. Yet, she had to remind herself; everyone was conditioned to never question their maker under any circumstance, so in reality, it would have been just that easy for her to pull this off. Clearly Miranda had Salvatore's help during part of this, for how long Alcina still didn't know, but his time on trial would come as well and more would be divulged as time went on and Miranda's secrets were pilfered through.

Inside this dingy room, along every wall discarded like trash, were at least a hundred dead bodies. Mutants that had obviously failed their experiments. Some looked vastly different than the others; skin tones ranged from dark grey to white and damn near iridescent; possibly from a short decomposition, or simply how the parasites Miranda had used reacted with each subject at whatever stage of her testing. 

Since these mutants were drastically different than what one could call regular vampires, their stage of death was uncalculatable just by looking at them. Like the one Alcina had killed and they had observed many months ago, these bodies had hollowed and simply remained as is; dried, sunken skin on a frame of bones.

Though, this was just half of the morbid appearance of the room.

From the blood spatters and very apparent, gaping, slashed, and other injury pummeled bodies that lay tossed to the sidelines, the wide open space in the middle was stained with nothing but blood. The stone floor that should have matched the regular charcoal appearance was a glittering display of what looked like dried wine.

Without much else to go on, it seemed easy to assume that this experimentation room was where Miranda tested her mutants as to how well they withstood injuries sustained in conflict.

It was barbaric.

And it sent haunting memories of Alcina's attack many years ago by Mother Miranda to the forefront of her mind.

The woman was a brutal sadist on all counts. Completely insane.

There were no weapons to be found but that made sense to Alcina; why leave behind the real goods if this place were to have ever been discovered. She could only fathom what they would be uncovering in Miranda's manor if this is what remained here.

Alcina gazed at the myriad of lifeless hosts for a long pause in silence, then instructed Dmitri to find and prepare some kind of grave for them. They deserved better than what they received at the hands of Miranda and she would see to it they at least rested in a better place.

Dmitri agreed, then fell into a barrage of information about the troops he had at Mother Miranda's manor, the excavations taking place here and there, the gathering place he was having his people store all the findings, talk of the impending gathering between Clan leaders and everything else therein his extensive memory, drawled to a muted ramble until she excused herself from the scene. He had this in his very capable hands and she was starting to dread everything else coming down the pike. Quickly. 

And now she was brooding in her living room where it was quiet, sifting through everything, grain of sand by grain of sand. She felt like this wasn't even at the tip of the iceberg but she also hoped she was wrong. There was far more at hand than she desired and she was trying to pep-talk herself up to the challenge. The reassuring words of Donna would have to suffice for now; one thing at a time.

So many things. All the time in the world.

She wished someone would explain why this felt so suffocating.

Alcina slumped back into the plush couch and sighed out her frustrations and glanced at the clock. It was nearing dawn and she wondered how Donna and Angie's' excursions to formulate your story was panning out. She'd not heard a peep from her since their meeting in the courtyard. Only allowing herself a brief musing on it she rose and meandered into the kitchen, collected a glass, filled it with blood-wine, grabbed her pack of cigarettes on the counter, lit one, and headed to the turret.

It was amusing to her now as she stood in the tower peering down at her city, how one becomes accustomed to the sounds of the underground. While they did dwell in a vast underground cave, the sounds didn't seem to echo as much as she remembered upon her first introduction of the place. It had grown decently as well since her time here. Homes and dwellings had stretched far in every direction, filling up most of the empty spaces that once remained. Now as she surveyed the damage being repaired and busy souls filing in from the night from the caverns entrances, Alcina smiled weakly; oh how her duties became suddenly so much more impactful. Clan leaders would soon be all under one roof, her roof, and the nitty gritty of untangling this giant rats nest would be sticky and tiresome, no doubt. Though, instead of wanting to run from it as she would have in the past, she felt a renewed sense of eagerness. Perhaps it was the thought of you being by her side as this new way was paved; or perhaps knowing she no longer had the danger looming over her; or, at the very least, that you were safe from the very thing that dampened so much of her happiness and freedom. 

Either way, the thought of you kept the smile upon her tired visage growing warmer.

A rough half hour passed as she stood there in her thoughts until her daughters finally came strolling in through the manor gate, giggling and bantering, giving enthusiastic waves when they found her silhouette in the turret window. Alcina returned the gesture and meandered down to meet them.

They were in bountiful spirits as they regaled their mother with their tales of their night flaunting about the city. They, too, felt the changes in the air from the grand victory the underground had experienced and seemed more alive than ever. It gave Alcina great joy. It's all she'd ever wanted for her girls. Freedom.

Against her better judgement as she crawled into bed that morning, Alcina grabbed for the journal Dmitri had given her of Mother Miranda's. This was, of course, not light reading material before sleep and she was unsure she wanted to know what lie in the pages, in all honesty. But, as her curiosity would have it, she grabbed the worn leather bound cover and flopped it open, a page coming to view with her fine script. 

It read;

27th, April,

      Salvatore informs me Alcina has found a new pet. An offering that was unable to meet her end in the Feeding Grounds. I am as displeased as I am intrigued. Perhaps the time has come so soon -

"Oh fuck that." Alcina blurted, slamming the thing shut and tossing it to the bedside table.

Of all the pages she could have turned to, it had to be that one. She could only scoff as she nestled back down into her bed, finding a familiar scent still lingering in the satin that removed the negativity from her almost instantly. Not having you beside her, now that she'd experienced such a domesticity, gave her a heavy sigh. Being away from you seemed worse than ever before. But, dwelling on it wouldn't get her anywhere. She was exhausted, needed her sleep, and knew the awaiting evening held the beginning of the real work ahead of everyone, especially her.

You would be here with her soon enough, she told herself.

-

You and Malka had talked until the sun rose, then you promptly passed out on the couch.

It was around 10 AM when you finally stirred and peered hazy-eyed at the clock. Oddly, you felt rested for only a rough four hours of shut eye. Then an instant pang of anxiety hit you when you reached for your phone, but luckily there were no missed calls or texts from work or otherwise. You sighed. This was stupid. And then you started to laugh.

What the hell did you have to fear? Getting fired? Whoopty doo. You had a whole legion of vampires and lycans that were your new-found family, right? Or, at the very least the Matriarch who loved you and cared for you. You had options; you weren't stuck here anymore. Life could not have been more unreal. You smiled.

Finally staggering from the couch, you stretched and headed for the shower, but not before very persistent tapping at your balcony door caught your attention with a full smile now on your lips.

All six of your crows were there to greet you as you pulled open the door, the crisp winter air hitting you with a slap. 

"Hey!" You exclaimed, not a one of them hesitating to hop themselves into your room and perch wherever they pleased, "o...k..." you smirked, closing the door, "come on in, I guess. Make yourself at home?"

Telling them apart still wasn't easy, but you were sure Ebony, as that one was the largest, took residence on the back of your chair at your desk, flapping the winter chill off its wings while looking at you expectantly. Two were wandering over your bed, and the other three were strutting their way through your doorway into the hall.

"Uhm, well, let me see if I've got some food," you chuckled, following the three who had now strolled into the living room, checking everything out as they went.

The fridge was pretty barren and the mixed bowl of raspberries and blueberries you had were looking weepy, so you tossed those in the bin and kept searching. 

Flipping open the cupboard over the microwave you found a bottle of mixed peanuts, "score!" You hollered and pulled down a couple plates, spreading the nuts out, placing them on the table behind you, "c'mon guys, I've got goodies in here."

Sure enough, here they all came, hopping up on the ledge of the table and started eating, little coos and caws in your general direction clearly letting you know this was acceptable for now.

You shook your head, "alright, I gotta shower. No shitting in the house, please."

The smallest, you remembered naming Noir, cawed at you then promptly went back to eating.

Surely they could be left alone while you showered without getting into too much? Shrugging it off you went about your business.

When you got out, toweled up and still dripping a little, you made your way back down the hall and peered around the corner to check on them. The six of them had now taken over your couch. Preening and snoozing on the back like this was the most normal thing in the world.

You slow blinked and went back into the bathroom.

Ok. This is my life now. I am a Fae that has a murder of crows as companions. Or, familiars, or whatever the hell they wanted to call themselves.

Which made you all the more curious what else lied in your lineage, and yourself for that matter. You hoped you'd be able to sit down again with the blood arcane you'd found via Louis and get some real answers some day. Miranda's tirade lingered in your mind; you came from a mighty bloodline, at least she assumed, unable to live long enough to find out. You smirked as you wiped off the steam on your mirror with your towel. 

The future couldn't have been any cloudier than that mirror in front of you.

You sighed and finished getting ready.

It had started to snow as you, and your crows, ventured out into this chilly November afternoon. It didn't stick much, but the white was pretty as it dusted some treetops and ornate architecture hanging on the towering buildings. The flakes were small at first but began to get thicker and thicker as you made your way to Malka's, and by the time you'd gotten settled in, they were gorgeous puffy cotton balls tumbling down into the city as the two of you watched out her large windows.

Funnily enough, Malka had prepared a large batch of her village-wide-battle-causing butter croissants, which she generously gave the crows that were nestled down on her balcony under the tall umbrella she'd opened for them. Everyone seemed pretty content.

You sat next to Leo on the couch with your hot mug of tea cupped in your hands, trying to ignore the continuous glance of Malka who sat just to the other side of you.

"So, when are you going to bring your vampire to meet me?"

That question took her almost exactly fifteen minutes longer than you had anticipated.

You almost snorted into your drink but was able to get it down before you started to chuckle, "well, until I know what's going on down there with the clan leaders and whatever else, I'm really not sure."

"Ah, yes yes," she mused, nodding knowingly, "you are not nervous about it any longer?"

"Oh no, no I'm nervous as hell," you nodded, taking another sip, "but... I can't lie that I'm not intrigued more and more as to what goes on down there; who all these people are; what vampire hierarchy is like, and, ultimately... where I'll fit in... maybe. I don't know."

"Your Alcina is wanting you to move in with her, mm? Methinks by her side is where you fit?"

You eyed her with a smirk, "well... that's another topic all its own. We've got to get through a whole lot more first before I think that can even be... addressed, let alone decided on?"

Malka narrowed her eyes through her intuitive smile, "well my ketzeleh, until then, you must tell me more about your adventures underground. You didn't finish with everything that happened with Mother Miranda and I've been eating my nails off since this morning."

Chuckling after one more sip, you started to scritch the purring ball of fluff next to your leg and took a heavy sigh, "ahhhh yeah, where were we before I passed out on the phone?"

"The silo!"

~

While the evening was quick to sneak up on your time with Malka, she was gracious in understanding your need to leave to meet Alcina.

So off you went, birds in tow. 

The snow had disappeared and the city was a reflective scenescape; the dark pavement grabbed the city and car lights and held them captive in the murky puddles on the street and sidewalks. The crisp damp air mixed with the stark, refracting city giving you a smile at the seasons attire that would drape over the city for months. Winter was your least favorite, for its bitter harshness, but every once in a while you couldn't help but nod to its fierce uniqueness.

Streetlamps had begun to come to life as you hustled down your street and through the last crosswalk to your block, turning down the side path near the mini courtyard to head to the less common entry hall.

Until you caught the whiff of an undeniable perfume and your crows began to caw overhead.

You had intended to look over your shoulder to see which way it had come but Alcina collided into you with controlled force, holding you captive in her strong arms keeping you from tumbling over, and peppering your chilled face with her brilliant red-lipped kisses.

"Aha," she cackled lowly, rearranging you in her arms to look at you, "I much prefer to catch my prey in the wild, but draga mea, you are too easy," Alcina beamed, kissing you reverently as she swayed with you back and forth.

"Oh hell," you giggled, kissing her back, "I am but a wind-blown leaf and you are a mighty panther, what chance have I against you, huh?"

Alcina stroked the side of your face with her gloved finger and hummed, "a shapeshifting leaf, perhaps," she grinned once more, "and what fun adventure have you been on dragoste?"

"I was at Malka's," you replied watching the hint of narrowed eyes above you, "she needed to be filled in you know."

"Mmm, how exciting."

"She asked when she's going to meet you."

Finally giving into her desire to huff, Alcina arched her perfect eyebrow at you, "eventually."

You laughed out loud and pulled her closer, "one thing at a time, I know," you chuckled some more, "c'mon lets get inside I'm freezing."

Her smile retuned and she nodded, turning her calculating gaze to the complex while tilting her head, "you know I've never actually been in through the front of your building before."

You paused at her admission and slowly began to nod while you snickered. She'd only ever entered through your balcony door, as, well you know, a secretive vampire would do.

"No, no you have not," you smiled with a wilted laugh, grasping her hand a little tighter, "so come on then, it's time you had an official escorting to my door."

Alcina beamed and straightened her posture, offering her arm for you to take even though you were very much the lead.

Retracing your steps, you rounded back to the two sets of large glass doors, scanning your card through each reader that allowed you entrance to the simple lobby. Taking a right you lead your very tall, striking lady through the hallway towards the elevators, getting a good stare from the older woman who lived on the floor below you you'd met only a handful of times.

As the elevator dinged to the 17th floor, you stepped out into the very bland, terribly chosen grey painted walls, and waved your arm down the long hall, "my abode lies at the very end, m'lady," you cooed.

She nodded gracefully and played along, stepping in through your front door after you'd unlocked it and ushered her in.

"Hm," Alcina mused, "I still like the balcony, much faster, much more dramatic."

You shook your head through your smile as you took off your coat and plopped your keys on the table beside the coat rack, watching Alcina get comfortable as well.

"So, how is everything shaping up down there?" You inquired making your way back into her arms.

She sighed heavily, "it is only the beginning, and right now it's... messy. But, the good news is, Donna informed me early this evening that your alibi is solid, your place of employment has been contacted, and you..." she tapped your nose softly with her long finger, "are off all hooks for at least three weeks." She winked.

You retuned the sigh, but it was one of relief, "I really can't thank you and Donna enough. I've been dreading hearing notification sounds go off on my phone all day," you snorted, "last thing I want to do or think about is work."

"Well draga mea, free your mind - it is done."

The two of you took the pause to really look at one another, letting the silence settle you into a calm normalcy once more. Alcina planted her hands firmly on your waist as she leaned down to kiss you again, lingering in your closeness as all that lay outside wafted into space. In here, tucked away, you two could ignore everything else and it was so much of what she needed right now.

"Tell me, my love," she whispered against your lips, "you're alright?"

You smiled and nodded, eyes still closed as your forehead pressed to hers, "I am, especially now that you're here." Pulling back to reposition your arms over her shoulders, you noticed she looked a little frayed, "want to fill me in? I'm actually pretty curious myself."

"I do love that about you," she pursed her lips, grabbing you up in her arms and taking you to the couch, plopping down with you, "well... where to begin..."

Alcina then began in great detail about how Angie had redecorated the front of City Hall; the quickly advancing construction; Dmitri's discovery of Miranda's journals, logs, notes, and other deranged items that had been collected in her lair; the unfortunate experimentation room and deceased victims therein; fact that both her military and Karl's had been going nonstop since this all began against her orders to rest ruffling her feathers but overall understanding the necessity; the pending discussion of the trials for Ethan, Mia, and Salvatore; and finally the arrival of clan leaders. All of this taking place within the last day.

That was a lot. You had no idea how her fortitude for such responsibility was so impeccable.

"Wow babe, that's uhm... that's a lot."

Alcina agreed silently and stroked your leg, "and it's only going to get more chaotic."

You smirked, "Aaaand the clan leaders... how are they?"

"Mmm, unsure. I left before they could find me."

"Ditched out before they cornered you, huh?" You laughed.

"Corner me? What a thing to say," she smiled bearing her sharp teeth playfully, "there is no cornering me, I simply had much more pressing matters to attend to at the moment. They can wait."

The way her eyes sparkled at you had you melting in no time.

"So, as much as I don't want to ask... when do I need to be present for what's going to happen?"

Taking a pause to consider your question, Alcina sighed, "for my own selfish reasons I would love to have you with me now, but I realize this isn't an easy position for you. I believe that by the end of tomorrow all Clan Leaders will be present, which will lead to the Grand Council where the proceedings of what needs to be addressed will be finalized. I have little doubt your presence will be requested by all for that gathering."

You nodded slowly, "will I need to be there for the trials?"

"It is possible they may vote for it, yes. I won't lie to you draga mea," Alcina stated firmly, "these leaders are... jagged. Rough. I will do what I can to sway in your favor at all costs, though when it comes to matters as impervious as this, your role may be much larger than you might wish. But I promise you, you are not in danger, nor are you on trial. So don't take any guff, either."

Her wink lessened the blow to her previous comments but you were still a little unsettled by it. You were still getting used to the fact you were a Fae, let alone you were getting sucked into being a large part of the underworld clan of lycans and vampires. How was your life real again?

You sighed heavily and leaned over into your vampire, "so... after tomorrow night, that's when you want me?"

Alcina narrowed her eyes, "I want you all the time, but yes, that will suffice."

It was your turn to purse your lips, "you want me all the time huh?" You asked quietly, switching this conversation 120 degrees, inching closer to her, "like, all the time?" You questioned even softer, kissing her cheek bone lightly, trailing your lips down to her jaw, to under her pearl earring with a hot breath.

The shuddering desire that overtook Alcina surged gold through her iris's, and in the swiftest motion grabbed you, flung you under her on the couch, and hunkered down over you like the panther you'd compared her to earlier.

She placed her palm to your throat in a clutch that was firm and commanding, her nails digging just gently enough into the back of your neck that you shivered with wanting anticipation, and you darkened your eyes up at her. God, she was immobilizingly beautiful.

"Yes, draga mea," Alcina finally purred leaning down on you, her sharp teeth grazing your lip as her mouth mapped its way to your ear, "I want you all... the time."

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and your legs went limp, "then you should have me," you pressed, egging her on, aching to feel her bite.

Alcina could not deny you anymore than she could deny herself.

With a wickedly deep, short chuckle, Alcina reached her free arm under your thigh, hooked it over her hip and sunk her teeth into your flesh and drank with vigor.

You moaned, loudly. White-knuckled you held to her shirt as she fed, sending you just as high as you hoped she was; feeling the throbbing draining sensation overtake you and throw you into a misty tingling pool of pure euphoria. 

Feeling the strength of your blood pour through her, Alcina lifted you from the couch with ease, helping you secure your weak arms and legs around her as she took you to your bedroom and laid you down, licking her teeth wounds as she wrapped herself up in you in the dark.

Being lost in the in-between of these sensations, you smiled as you felt yourself mold into your vampire, her strong arms encompassing you, her lips pressing earnest kisses to every inch of you, and happily submitting to the minutes passing.

"If I can sweeten the appeal of your stay in the underground," Alcina husked against your chest, "my bed has yet to witness the desire and passion I wish to give you under my roof of hospitality..." she grinned wickedly up at your hazy eyes, "so perhaps... just perhaps... you would wish to come and stay with me sooner, dragoste."

If you weren't as inebriated as you were from her bite just now, you would have begged her to take you now. But you knew her too well, and she would drag this on until you surrendered.

All you could do was chuckle breathlessly, "d-deal."

Alcina beamed.

[cactusnymph]

kiss 41 shadowheart/lae'zel please :o)

Shadowheart wishes that she could control her dreams. If she were able to Lae'zel would certainly feature in none of them—except maybe in those where Shadowheart gets to kick her ass. Sadly those dreams never seem to visit her in her sleep. Instead Shadowheart finds herself betrayed by her own subconscious as it keeps dragging the memory of Lae'zel kissing her to the surface.

That forked tongue in her mouth shouldn't make her feel as excited as it does and it definitely shouldn't keep invading her sleep—Lae'zel pressed up against her, her long tongue in Shadowheart's mouth, licking the side of her throat, wandering lower.

If anyone told her at the beginning of this insane journey that she would have wet dreams about Lae'zel she would have laughed and left. Now she finds herself with soaked underwear in the morning and a burning anger and shame in her guts whenever it happens.

The bandage around her palm is still there and Shadowheart should probably have ripped it off by now. Instead her fingers keep touching it, pressing against the rough fabric, feeling the seams of the wrapping that has gotten more skillful over the past few days since Shadowheart started teaching Lae'zel first aid—or, how Lae'zel keeps referring to it: Patchwork.

Shadowheart can tell that the others are eyeing this new development between the two of them wide-eyed (Gale), disbelieving (Wyll) and amused (Karlach). Teaching a githyanki warrior about medicine and how to close a wound instead of cutting into it deeper is a surreal experience. But Lae'zel seems determined so Shadowheart refuses to be left behind.

In the next dream Lae'zel is on top of her completely naked, pinning her to the ground with a knife against Shadowheart's throat. There's something to be said about the state of her mind and specifically her subconscious that this is something that gets her going. But right now everything is hazy and hot and there's that forked tongue right next to the knife's edge and—

When she wakes up the knife is still there and so is Lae'zel—although in the real version of it all there is no tongue at her throat and Lae'zel is fully dressed.

Lae'zel sneers down at her.

"You've been feverish and making pained sounds in your sleep. If you're turning into a ghaik I'll give you a quick death", Lae'zel hisses and the blade presses against Shadowheart's skin like a promise. Despite the seriousness of the situation she almost has to laugh. Maybe there should be fear lingering underneath all of it, but all Shadowheart can really focus is on the cold steel on her skin, the weight on top of her and the heat between her legs.

Great.

"I'm not turning into anything, you absolute lunatic", she hisses back, heat rising into her cheeks as she tries to struggle against the iron clad grip of Lae'zel's hand.

"There is sweat on your brow", Lae'zel prompts. Shadowheart thinks that Lae'zel must be the stupidest person she's ever met.

"So what? You never sweat in your sleep? Are gith above sweating now?"

She could swear that Lae'zel is inhaling. Shadowheart thinks that maybe she has to ask Karlach to hit her really hard with a hammer so she can stop being insane about damned Lae'zel.

"Then what of the noises?", Lae'zel asks and she leans even further down as if she's trying to find a Mindflayer staring back at her from the depths of Shadowheart's eyes. Shadowheart is mortified enough about having been found out while having a wet dream about Lae'zel of all people, but the fact that Lae'zel makes into so big a thing is really starting to annoy her. Why can't Lae'zel mind her own damn business?

"My noises are none of your concern", Shadowheart presses and struggles again. Lae'zel's pupils widen.

"They are when you keep me from sleeping."

"I didn't think a small whimper could disturb you this much."

"It does when it's coming from you. You are the most—"

Shadowheart doesn't allow Lae'zel to finish. She surges upwards and presses her lips against Lae'zel's, causing the knife to dig deeper into her skin. The second their mouths collide, Lae'zel drops the knife and then they're kissing again.

Gods, it's so much better than it's been in any of her dreams. Lae'zel's tongue slides into her mouth and Shadowheart opens up willingly, wrapping her legs around Lae'zel's waist to pull her down. Lae'zel's breath is coming in short pants and Shadowheart is pleased to know that she's just as affected by all of this.

"So my noises keep you from sleeping?", Shadowheart pants into the kiss. Lae'zel snarls.

"Shut your mouth."

"Why don't you make me shut it?"

"Guys, please. Please find a tent", Gale's tired and strangled voice comes from his bedroll and Shadowheart can feel Lae'zel tense and pull back and before Shadowheart can say anything Lae'zel is gone.

[violetsareblue-selfships]

Birthday Present

F/O: Caitlyn | WC: 779 / anyways here's more backstory - the next fic should be progress day (aka s1e4) so :3 anyway i really like how this fic came out :3 (also if you read through this post you'll know what this is <3)

"So, Ms. Kiramman, you're about to be sixteen. How exciting~!" April says, blocking the hand that aims to shove at her shoulder.

She giggles as Caitlyn pushes harder, pushing back and allowing her to slowly press her down against the bed. She stops pushing back then, instead brushing her thumb over Cait's knuckles.

"Shut up…" Caitlyn mutters, visibly shivering at that caress and wresting her hand from April's.

"So, you'll get your main present tomorrow, but is there anything else you want?" April asks, leaning back on her hands as she looks curiously at her best friend.

It feels like ages have passed since Caitlyn first rescued her from being lost on the streets. It's been eight or so years since then, after all. She certainly had hoped that she made a friend at the time, but she never would have imagined them staying friends for this long. Kids don't usually worry that far into the future anyway.

"Hm. What do I want?" Caitlyn echoes, raising an eyebrow and smirking at her friend.

It's an easy answer. There's been one thing she's wanted for years. A multitude of reasons have held her back: her parents approval, the age difference between them (despite it only being around two and a half years - she knows some people would judge April for being the older one in this case), and her own nerves.

But as the years passed, her mother's grown fond of April. As the stricter of her parents, that's who Caitlyn wouldn't want to disappoint. Somehow she thinks that this outcome wouldn't upset her if when she finds out.

As for the second, it being her birthday narrows that gap a little. Their birthdays are half a year apart so for a little bit, the gap will only be two years and besides, no one should find out. The only reason she cares is she knows that April would worry about it.

As for the last… well, she's still nervous. But when you've wanted something for at least three years, you become unable to wait any longer.

The clock continues to tick as she pretends to think about her answer, inching closer to midnight.

"I can ask for anything, correct?" She asks, tilting her head as she looks at April, already knowing her answer.

"Yes. Anything, Cait," April answers.

"Then when the clock strikes midnight…" Caitlyn says, her heart pounding faster. It feels surreal that she's actually doing this. "Kiss me."

April's eyes widen and she pushes herself to sit up straight. "Cait, you really want that?" She asks, her voice soft and a bit awed.

"Yes." Caitlyn nods. "Have for a while actually."

"Huh…" April's eyes flick to the clock. It's almost time… She stands up, wobbling a little from how shaky she feels. It's something she never allowed herself to consider before. She's had dreams, of course, but she tried to brush them off as merely that. Dreams.

Nothing that she'd ever be allowed to do.

"What would this mean for us?" She asks quietly. Does she dare to hope that Caitlyn, her best friend, wants to be with her as more than that?

It's Caitlyn's turn to look surprised at the question. Her cheeks grow pink as she clears her throat, the familiar action making April smile. "Well… we'll take it slow."

April nods. They have all the time in the world to become more, but hearing that the possibility is there is enough. "Sure. But for now… a kiss."

"Yes."

Their eyes go to the clock in unison. April steps forward, counting the seconds aloud.

Ten. Nine.

She steps closer until their bodies are nearly brushing.

Eight. Seven.

A hand settles on Caitlyn's waist, pulling her a little closer. Their breaths catch in the silence of the room.

Six. Five.

Her other hand moves to brush Caitlyn's hair out of her eyes, lingering to cup her cheek afterward.

Four. Three.

Her thumb brushes over Caitlyn's cheeks, their eyes meeting. Caitlyn offers a shy smile, her nerves hitting her more now that they're so close.

Two.

One.

April leans in and their lips brush.

It's a short kiss, hardly more than a peck. Their hearts still skip all the same.

Another kiss follows, a little deeper but nothing extreme. When April pulls back to pull Caitlyn into a hug, she's breathing like she ran a marathon. They both are.

"Happy birthday, Caitlyn," She murmurs into her shoulder, feeling giddy that she finally got to kiss her.

Caitlyn laughs softly and wraps her arms around her too. "Yeah. It is."

Barely two minutes into the day and it's already the best birthday she's had in her life.

[fire-but-ashes-too]

(Writerblr) intro post!

Hi! welcome to my blog! this is my (very late) writerblr/general/artblr intro, or just somewhere with all my general informations :)

please, go on and read *bows*

☆ Ash is my name on here and i go by she/her

★ Im a teen writer and artist, but i dream of acting

☆ im from italy

★ pan ace and quoiromantic (or wtfromantic its the same) (im still kinda questioning tho??? probs demiromantic??? idk?? feelings r weird atm)

☆ entp and introvert

★ im always up for tag games or stuff like that :)

☆ recently added tags! #ash writes- my writing ofc #ash and her rants- just me talking abt random stuff could be anything serious or not #ash on fire- probs me fangirling over something lol i may get overexcited beware

★ i relate to a spiritual and psychological level to black cats and all their other forms (aka regulus black, tori spring, aristotle mendoza etc etc etc)

i mostly write fantasy or fanfiction, but sometimes i engage in various genres as mystery, dystopian or surrealism :)

★ So I've been scheming like a criminal ever since

genre: fanfiction

audience: general/ teen and up

tropes: rivals to lovers, college AU, slow burn, a lot of fencing, paris✨

cw/tw: past rape/non con, ptsd, homophobia, wounds/blood

progress: i try to update every week but nothing's promised 🥲

snippet here:

Years ago he’d learned to mask his handwriting, so now he could easily forge any handwriting he wanted, if he was given a good example of it being used. There was something extremely interesting in how each person connected two letters to each other. How they wrote an “ar” was different from how they would write an “or”, how much the words were apart from each other and how much pressure they put in the paper told a lot about someone, to him it was like zodiac signs. He didn’t always have to copy other handwritings, not unless he wanted to throw the blame on that person. He just had to invent a brand new writing style, and be careful to not slip his between the cracks. And that’s exctly what he did in the letter. Before Jesper could finish his monologue about how much he had missed out in the past few months holed up in his office, a blackmail threat was ready to be closed inside the paper envelope, just the signature was missing, but he didn’t bother to add it. A proper threat always had to be anonymous, it was always better to give as little information you could. Everything could be used against you. The maroon wax sealed the opening with a satisfying fizzling and a single wisp of smoke. The clock chimed on the wall, it was already 6 pm, he had to go finish some assignments.

(previously titled: questionable decisions)

☆ The Rogue

genre: fantasy, dystopian

audience: teen and up

setting: a fantasy world im currently busy (trying) building

progress: just vibes really, two mainc characters, a couple sides and an outline plus one of the first chapters, not much really but im working on it

characters:

anne: the rogue from where i took the title.

shes a 17 y/o girl who lives in a bunker in a forest, on the run from the government as she's a "high traitor and liar who must be destroyed".

she has the ability to modify her face and appereance for a while and she has a prosthetic arm connected to her virtual friend Indigo.

thanks to it she's able to teleport and keep track of various things.

alexander: the son of the dictator, he's lived his life in a bubble until 2 years ago, when he finally managed to get more social contacts with people and (slightly) catch up on what he's missed, behind his father's back of course.

he meets anne when she's captured and figures she's his best shot at escaping his father domain.

snippet:

This time, she materialised in the shadows behind a bulding, which gave her enough cove for her to shift her facial features. Her nose a little bigger, her hair some shades brighter, her eyes more elongated and greener than the grass growing outside her doorstep and a splash of freckles to top it all off. It was way harder to do it without a mirror, and way more dangerous. For all she knew, she could’ve been looking like a girl with a fish head, and she didn’t know if that would be better or worse than looking like herself. Anne took out a hat and a silk scarf, she wrapped it around her neck and jumped in a group of tourists gazing at the city. In no time she was in the square, vendor’s stands circling her, colourful flags waving in the wind. She could’ve stayed like that for ever, stuck in the memories of her old life, but she knew it couldn’t last forever.

★ Flowers and Homicide

genre: mystery

audience: general

cw/tw: blood, dead bodies, autopsies

main character: Giada

she's a forensics student who one day stumbles (metaphorically) over a dead body in her neighbour's lawn and starts investigating.

progress: actually finished but in italian sadly so in the translation process

☆ Confessions of a timeless man

genre: short story, surrealistic

audience: teen and up

content warning: suicide attempt, suicidal thoughts, depression

plot summary: a man is stuck living the same day over and over, after almost 10 years there, he tries to escape his curse by killing himself

progress: completed XD

(here's my ao3 btw)

you want to know more about me! why than you, here you go!

★ my favourite artists are Taylor Swift, Conan Gray, Arctic Monkeys, Chase Atlantic, Marina, Lana del Rey, Sabrina Carpenter, Mother Mother and Billie Eilish (theres more but i cant remember whoops)

☆ synesthetic bitch

★ other than writing, art-ing and reading i love baking/cooking and crocheting

☆ theatre kid over here, always up for screaming my lungs out

★ uhhh im a vegetarian

☆ i know a scary amount about death and murder (especially poisons)

★ i dont have a specific vibe, it usually changes every few months or so

☆ i probably have anxiety but ive never been to therapy so idk 💀

★ always up for fangirling :3 (im in too many fandoms *cries* buuut im most active on pjo, marauders, grishaverse and osemanverse, musicals and some books that i have boards for on my pinterest :D)

☆ i am terribly scared of insects, needles and dogs

★ my (quite unusual) sport is aerial dance, a circus speciality that looks really cool but is acctually really painful

☆ my pinterest, spotify and goodreads if by some reason you're really interested in the chaotic human being that i am :)

thank you for reading this farrr🥹🥹

have a great day/night/life :D

[dearamleo]

New Chapter! The Foreverlost (A Wolfstar BotW AU)

Chapter 2: An Old Face

True to her word, Minerva had Tonks knocking promptly at his door just as the sun began to set. For once he woke up and found himself actually feeling slightly rested- though he still was nursing a headache. He figured that likely would not abate for quite some time. Tonks continued to flush every time he looked in her direction and if he was not mistaken it looked like she had done her hair up in some sort of fancy braided style.

Regardless, he was thankful to see Minerva’s pinched face in the courtyard.

“Minnie, a delight as always.”

She cocked a brow at him, but directed him towards what looked to be a garden. Remus could hear the murmuring of others talking, but still just out of ear shot.

“Our last champion has arrived from Ravenclaw and is able to join us this evening.”

“Great,” Remus mumbled. “I’m sure we’ll all be the best of pals. Gallivanting across the country together, fighting evil, trying not to die. Again.”

Minerva stepped back to let him step through the gate she opened, but when he looked up he stopped in his tracks. There certainly were others waiting for them in the garden. They were all gathered around a small table that was already laden with luxurious looking food and pitchers of wine. That wasn’t what was causing his mouth to gape rather dramatically, though.

“Those are children.”

“Mr. Lupin,” Minerva sighed, stepping through to the garden. “I can assure you that Hogwarts’ champions-”

“Are children.”

Minerva glared at him, looking near to dragging him along by the ear. “Have shown a great deal of courage, fortitude and-”

“ Youth -”

“Greetings, Champions,” Minerva called, apparently choosing to ignore any more of Remus’s grumbling. Everyone at the table quieted down, turning to listen. “I would like to introduce everyone to Remus Lupin, Hero of Time, now awoken from his long-”

“Please don’t call me the Hero,” Remus groaned, feeling his ears heat under the gaze of everyone. “It’s just Remus.”

The girl sitting opposite where Tonks had settled in, was the first to stand up. She was on the shorter side, however that in no way made her less impressive as she came to stand before him.

“Hermione Granger,” she said, sticking out her hand. “Chieftain of the Ravenclaw.”

Her hair was a mix of tight braids and loose coils of deep brown, decorated heavily with hoops and beads that clicked together softly as she moved. Her clothing was of an understated regal elegance while still offering the practicality for movement in the desert climate of Ravenclaw. She was incredibly young to be a chieftain, but her intimidatingly strong handshake spoke volumes about her experience in the role.

Minerva gestured to the next champion seated at the table. He was tall, even sitting down Remus could tell he would be towering over him. He had freckles that covered just about every inch of his skin and bright orange hair that he kept having to flick back from his eyes. There was something remarkably familiar about his features that Remus, of course , couldn’t quite put his finger on.

The kid barely took a breath between bites, even when Minerva cleared her throat to get his attention. 

“Oh, Ron Weasley,” he said. “Hufflepuff and all that.”

“Ronald was appointed as the champion for Hufflepuff by his eldest brother, Bill,” Minerva added when it was clear Ron’s priority lay in the meat pies. “He has shown great skill-” There was a snort from the group, though Remus couldn’t tell exactly who. “ Great skill in both strategy and with a hammer.”

The next of the champions Minerva turned to looked like a snobby little git. His chin was held a little too high to be natural and he seemed to be making a point to only really look at Remus from the corner of his eye. He was Veela, or at least part Veela, if Remus were to judge by the shockingly white wings that were folded delicately at his back. Paired with his icy blonde hair and nearly grey eyes, the boy was a surreal sight, one that felt like you weren’t supposed to be looking at.

“And this will be Draco Malfoy, champion for Slytherin. His appointment as champion was awarded to him through a myriad of skill trials in which he came out the victor.”

The little shit somehow raised his chin even further at that which made Remus roll his eyes. He could already tell that whatever journey awaited them all, Draco Malfoy was going to be a thorn in his side the entire time.

“A… pleasure, I’m sure,” Draco drawled, still not bothering to make eye contact.

Remus almost wanted to laugh at his insolence, but Minerva moved on quickly. “And this-”

“I’m Harry,” the last one said, not quite so forward like Hermione had been, but not as standoffish as Draco. He had a calmness about him as he held out his hand. “Harry Potter. Heir of Gryffindor.”

At that Remus finally pinpointed who was doing the snorting as he caught the dramatic eye roll that Malfoy accompanied it with.

He shook Harry’s hand, having the strange sense that it wasn’t the first time he had done so, but knowing that it was impossible. He had dark hair that appeared to be perpetually messy, freckles that concentrated along the bridge of his nose, shockingly green eyes and a long scar that stood out prominently on his forehead. It reminded Remus of a bolt of lightning the way it cracked white across his dark skin, cutting through his eyebrow and ending on his cheek.

Shaking his head, Remus nodded in greeting to the boy, trying to shrug off the strange deja vu.

“Shall we get started, then,” Minerva said, gesturing to the table.

Start from the beginning here

[siancore]

Richonne | 847 Words | General | AO3 Link

Synopsis: Rick and Michonne have a moment to express their feelings regarding Rick finding out about R.J.

Neither Rick nor Michonne wanted to stop; not when they were still too close to the Civic Republic. They knew there would be people on their trail. They knew the Civic Republic would not want them live; not after everything Rick had gone through. Not after everything they had seen and been subjected to. No one left that community. No one left and lived to talk about it. And now, both Rick and Michonne had been inside of their walls and had escaped. They really could not afford to stop. Not this close. Not when they were still so far away from home. From their friends and family. From their children.

“I didn’t even think to bring a photo,” said Michonne, as she tended to Rick’s wound; their reason for having to stop.

Rick winced a little as Michonne cleaned the gash to his left ribcage.

“I still can’t believe it,” Rick admitted. “It’s like I can barely get my head around it. We’ve got a son. This is so surreal, ‘Chonne. We’ve got a son.”

She fixed a dressing to the wound and then wrapped it. Rick pulled his shirt back on with some difficulty. He smoothed the garment down and let out a shaky breath.

“And I missed all o’ this time with him and Judith,” said Rick solemnly as he faced Michonne and took hold of her hand. “All of this time with you. I’m sorry. Sorry for what you’ve been through without me there to protect you and take care of you. Sorry I for the pain you felt. Sorry you had to go it alone.”

“I told you before,” she whispered, giving his hand a squeeze. “You don’t have to be sorry. You don’t ever have to be sorry. For anything. What happened was not your fault.”

“I know,” he said, dipping his head and looking up through his lashes at Michonne. “I guess I’m feelin’ sorry for myself a little, too. It was hell without you. Gettin’ back to you and Judith is what kept me goin’. And now we’ve got this blessing.”

Rick took a deep breath and continued.

“What if – what if he – if R.J. doesn’t like me? I’m a stranger to him. I can’t expect to just come back from the dead and assume that our son is gonna accept me.”

“Rick,” she said softly, causing him to lift his head. “He will accept you. Our son knows you. He knows all about you. How you’d do anything to protect the people you care about. How you’re brave. How you’re a good leader. How you love your family more than anything. Judith made sure to tell R.J. all about you.”

“Only the good things, I hope,” he said, slightly self-deprecatingly.

“Rick, I may be biased, but to me, there’s only good things when it comes to you,” Michonne said, beaming brightly at him; his breath hitched at the sight.

“God, I missed your smile,” said Rick, as he reached up and stroked her face. “Thinkin’ about you and that smile got me through a lot of long, lonely nights. Knowin’ I was gonna see you again got me through. I’m sorry it took this long for us to be back together. I –”

“Stop that,” said Michonne as she leaned into his touch. “Stop apologizing. We found each other again, and that’s what matters. Nothing is going to stop us from getting back to our kids. Nothing. So, just focus your energy on that, Rick. Not on the past. Not on what’s already happened. Focus on both of us getting back home. Focus on getting to meet your son. He’s gonna love you.”

Tears welled in Rick’s eyes at Michonne’s comforting words. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers before resting his forehead against hers.

“I love him already,” said Rick as he cradled Michonne’s head in his hand. “I loved him as soon as you told me about him. I loved him in my dreams before I even knew who he was. And I love you, Michonne. Thank you for comin’ for me. Thank you for takin’ care of our family and community. Thank you for lookin’ after Judith and bein’ there for her when I couldn’t. For bein’ both parents for her. And thank you for blessing me with R.J.”

Tears rolled down both Rick and Michonne’s faces as they sat holding one another. A gentle beat of silence passed around them as they took in calming breaths. Michonne smiled once more; smaller and softer – the smiles she reserved for Rick.

“Thank you for not dying on me,” said Michonne with a wet laugh which Rick returned.

They both pulled back and stared into one another’s glistening, teary eyes.

Rick ran his thumb over Michonne’s bottom lip and said, “Yeah well, we don’t die. We’re the ones who live.”

[peachiecure]

Character introduction: Larissa/“Cure Jump”

~Basic info~

Name: Larissa Frausto

“Alter Ego”: Cure Jump

Age: 13

Birthday: September 22

Hair color: Brown (w/ red ombré as “Jump”)

Eye color: Brown (Blue as “Jump”)

Larissa is a girl from another world who happens to visit from time to time. She holds the ability to transform into a magical girl known as “Cure Jump”. She is a side character in Project: SFA.

Larissa is a very shy and awkward person. She often is seen to be either panicking, not able to put out words or trying her best to do what is asked of her. Coming from another world, her surroundings here seem to fascinate her in a way as if she has been observing from the outside for a long time. In her free time, she seems to like to draw and play video games.

Her “Alter Ego”, Cure Jump on the other hand is much different in personality. She is strong willed, brave, leader-like and overall a joy to be around… she fights with the power of fire, along with a few other new tricks up her sleeve that she learns from Mario as they protect the kingdom at times. Though… there seems to be something behind those blue eyes of hers.

For more information on Larissa & Cure Jump, including more details and voice claims, please visit the side blog @nintendoprecure for her intros there~

A Precure? What’s that?

For my non-precure fans here, it’s a magical girl franchise. If you’re familiar with the concepts Sailor Moon or Cardcaptor Sakura, it’s pretty similar. Hopefully you don’t need to know that much about the franchise to understand the concept. A lot of precure fans like to make OCs, and that is where Larissa is from. So yeah it’s another project of mine. Larissa transforms and fights for what’s good with the power of her transformation device! (Which is a 3DS aha) She pops into SFA every now and then. You don’t need to dive deep into my other project though to understand her role in SFA, so I hope she is still a fun character to SFA’s overall story and lore. Just know that she pops in every now and then, helping out the best she can!

~Relationships~

Mario: “O-oh— I need to talk about Mario? U-um— he… he talks much more than I imagined… I’m so used to hearing reused voice lin— I MEAN from what I’ve heard from others!! He’s very nice!! I’m… I’m not good at socializing… at all. He seems to care about me though… I-I just feel that I’m to… incompetent to be standing by his side. He always tells be how I do such a good job as Jump but… I’m n— I mean, yeah I’m… Jump… but— sigh, never mind.”

Peach: “I could cry. I gonna cry. I-I can’t just cry?… she’s everything to me… seeing her in front of me physically of course I’m going to cry!! SHE’S MY FAVORITTTEEEE…. MY QUEEN…. And she’s so nice to me too I’m crying. I-I’m sorry I’m crying. I can’t help it. Little kid me prayed for moments like this… oh my gosh—“ (the rest is incoherent, we cannot understand her through her sobbing)

Sweetheart: “Finding out that Peach and Mario were married was one thing… but finding out they have a child… was something else entirely. I didn’t know how to process that information— my ship— I mean I’m very happy for them!!! Sweetheart herself is a very sweet little girl… well… she’s currently 10 but her behavior is very pure. Sometimes I think she looks up to me like an older sister which… I-I am an older sister in my family but I— I don’t feel like one. I’m cowardly, but she somehow finds the good in me when I’m around and wants to do things with me… her parents have explained the… situation with her powers, so I do have to keep an eye on her just in case anything happens.”

Luigi: “… I like Luigi, he… he really understands me when I can’t really get words out of my mouth… or… or when Mario drags the two of us somewhere impulsively as we’re both worrying… it is also surreal seeing him talk in front of me… oh my good they’re real the Super Mario Bros. are real and they’re in front of my oh my god. I’m gonna explode….”

Daisy: “Daisy has so much energy that she really overwhelms me— but not in a bad way! I really like her I’m just… I-I just like to take things slower and stuff. She’s a wonderful princess! She really cares about her friends and she would definitely fistfight a god for them!…”

Rosalina: “Mario brought me to the Observatory once and… it felt very weird to be able to breathe in space— where I’m from you— you can’t do that you’ll die. I got to meet Rosalina and the Lumas, and I really had a nice time with her. She’s gentle and made sure I felt comfortable and safe in her home… even read me a few stories from her iconic storybook that surely the soundtrack— I mean the music that so happens to play around when she reads— has not made me cry! Not at all!—“

Flame: “Flame is a new face I met upon coming here. I’ve never heard of his Kingdom at all. He seems like a nice kid who just wants to have fun with his friends. He-he’s very panicky, like me, so I— I relate a lot with him. He seems to always fight with Aqua and… I can’t blame him on that. Aqua… is… something… I just find it a bit odd how he always does what Sweetheart says?… I-I hope he’s only doing that because he wants to be a good friend…”

Aqua: “… C-can I tell the truth?—I-I don’t currently like him. I hate sounding mean but— he reminds me of someone from school with his spoiled attitude and I just can’t stand how he constantly arguing with Flame… there’s still a-a lot I don’t know about him, so I am open to change my view on him. It just seems like he isn’t willing to tell anything besides what he wants us to hear… and I don’t want to pry… I won’t say it to his face though, that’s just mean… he hasn’t really DONE anything to hurt me yet so I wouldn’t talk back… not like I ever would in the first place… he’s royalty…”

Toadsworth: “Toadsworth started calling me Master Jump after one battle and… I cannot get used to the title. I am no master at… anything. Unless it’s crying, I’m… very good at that… ahaha… ha….”

~Rumors~

“Yeah I’m… I’m not related to the Mario Bros… I-I don’t know why that’s such a popular rumor… I’m not even Italian… ahaha… w-wait who thinks I’m related to Mario—? Is it because of my brown hair?— o-or how I’m small?… I’m simply just learning alongside him… because of Ju— because I’m a magical girl!…”

And that’s it for Larissa’s intro! Next will be… well, a certain jester…

[scavengerssuccotash]

What are your thoughts on a Clint x Nat baby? I’ve read some fics where Nat accidentally gets pregnant and debates between keeping the baby or not. But I’ve also read a few fics where they both desperately want a baby and excel as parents once they have one. Personally I think Nat would be terrified if she was pregnant but eventually come around to the idea, because it’s a lil part of her and Clint, and be a great mom.

How did you know about my Sims 4 Clintasha save file?

(They have a daughter named Katya. And she’s fucking adorable.) 😭

Kid/baby Clintasha fics are definitely a real guilty pleasure for me. While I don’t agree with how Whedon presented that bit of character backstory for Natasha, I think taken with in universe logic it would make sense for the Red Room to sterilize their Widows. (It’s one of the few things that is canon that I’ve kept for my fic Sightline.)

(I ALSO have a real big problem with the tone in which it was discussed and handled in the Black Widow movie but let’s just skip over that for now.)

I think Clint and Nat would be exceptional parents. Extremely doting and highly protective I must admit I see them a bit of a helicopter parent duo. At least until the age of ten I want to say, when they start to loosen up their reigns as they finally start to believe that their child is safe. I think they would also retire from both SHIELD and Avenging, I don’t think Natasha much less Clint would be able to handle the separation and uncertainty in leaving for missions for months at a time. Clint is also immediately a girl dad. (I can’t help but picture Jeremy Renner a bit as I type this. Which hilariously shines a glaring light on my own father issues, but like in a ‘awww I wish o had that!’ way.)

I think it’s rather a cliche in the fandom to imagine them having a little girl, and I’m firmly one million percent within that camp. I genuinely can’t picture them having a boy for their first kid. (Yes, I said first. They have two! A girl and a boy roughly three years apart. They live in my head as a happy little family on a farm in the cornfields of Iowa and I love them very much.)

As for the pregnancy—it was fucking brutal! For my headcanon of a non-sterilized Natasha the Red Room kept them continually supplied with birth control and other hormonal blockers to the point that it was actually assumed that she would not be able to get pregnant or at the very least it would be rare. That one in a million chance happened after a particularly nasty fight when Natasha ran into the line of fire to save Steve. Cue a couple of thrown dishes and Clint growling into her ear and pinned to the bed.

“I’m not fucking losing you, do you hear me, Tasha!”

It was very hot and very intense and oops!

What really was difficult about the pregnancy, you know besides being pregnant (her back hurt like a son of a birch) was the emotional torrent that it brought. Sleepless nights, constant worry, questioning if she even wanted to keep it, followed by a surreal disbelief that she was even pregnant. It was a body horror watching and then feeling a tiny baby growing inside her. In the end she decided to keep it, partly as one last fuck you to the Red Room and her past but also because it was part Clint too. When she told him, it was in the middle of a firefight. (He would later tell her that her timing was shit.) As soon as the words left her mouth he looked at her for a good five seconds, blinked and then nodded to himself. He then, without any of the fanfare, dispatched the ten guys shooting at them, clean kills. All ten headshots. One right after the other with the cold efficiency she’s only ever seen once before when she was captured and tortured for three months.

Katya Philomena Romanoff-Barton was born November 16th. Three months premature, and weighing two pounds and thirteen ounces. She has blue eyes like her father and the freckles and red hair of her mother. They were able to bring her home after a year in the NICU.

She starts her Freshmen year at Princeton this year, double majoring in International Politics and Psychology, with an applied minor in History. She has one championship trophy in Olympic Archery and does Ballet in her free time.

[fayedartmouth]

i can just imagine jj saying 25 to kie post season 4 reunion

I won't get to all of the asks until after the holidays, FYI. The next three days are kind of an intense travel schedule, but I did manage to get this one out!

It is 100% unedited (didn't even read it twice!). Maybe I'll polish it and post it on AO3?? Don't know, lol. It might not be coherent.

Prompt is: "Go to sleep. I'll still be here when you wake up."

It's hard to tell, really, which part is the dream.

Because Kiara knows the reality, that JJ is dead.

But it's not a reality she wants.  It's not a truth she can tolerate.

She wakes, she moves, she breathes, and it feels like a nightmare.

And all she wants to do is wake up, wake up, wake up.

-o-

For the past month, Kiara has been consumed by grief.  Vengeance had been her only sanity, driving her forward when everything else pulled her back.  The more she thought about killing Groff, the less she thought about him killing JJ, and she had told herself that it was what JJ would have wanted, that it would bring them both peace.

But Groff's blood is on her hands, and she still feels it, the way the blade went in, cutting through flesh.  She can still feel it, like she'd plunged the blade into her own heart.

It hadn't so much been belief but desperation that made her take the crown, demanding that they go back to Morocco.  She'll either pull JJ out of his grave of bury herself alongside him, because she thinks Groff killed her, too, in the end.  He hit JJ in the gut, twisting it through his intestines, but he got her in the heart, and she can't.

She just can't.

She sobs at JJ's grave, holding the crown.  The grief overtakes her now, and she cries with an intensity that she can't curb.  The others stand nearby -- too scared, too worried, too everything -- and she doesn't care.  They have all grieved in their own way.  They have all lived this waking nightmare. 

It's time to wake up.

"JJ," she begs, hands clutched in the sand.  "It's time to wake up."

The sand shifts; the universe rends, pulling apart at the seams.

And JJ Maybank comes out of the grave.

-o-

It's surreal, of course.  JJ's been dead for a month, buried in the Moroccan desert, and then he's there.  He's alive, he's whole, he's perfect.

He's confused, too, of course, as they hug him and they hold him.  He gasps, each breath new and terrifying, and his fingers grab onto them as he blinks into the night.

"What happened?" he asks.

There's no answer for that, not one that captures it.  There's no way to explain the way losing him broke them.  There's no way to explain how grief nearly tore John B in two, leaving him unsteady and full of doubt.  It had made Sarah hesitant, holding her stomach and staying back, and Pope's mind didn't just reason to the best conclusions.  His logic was cold and hard as he helped Kiara plot revenge, and Cleo was left with regret for the man she'd made when she asked Pope to pull the trigger that first time.

And Kiara doesn't know how to tell him that the part of her that died, that girl he fell in love with, may be buried, and it might not be resurrected again.  JJ Maybank may come back to life, but she fears Kiara Carrera is well and truly dead.

"Guys?" he asks, gasping for air.  "What happened?"

They wrap their arms around him, holding him as they cry.  He fills the gaps, see.  He completes the circle.  He's the missing piece that makes them whole, and he's back.

That's all that matters is that he's back.

-o-

The answers come hard, and none of them understand.  They tell JJ as much as they can, but the answers still beg questions.  They look at the scar on his stomach, raised and red, and he tries to shake the sand out of his hair.

John B seems unable to let him go, hovering close and touching him constantly.  Sarah mothers him, making sure he eats and drinks, wrapping him up in a blanket to keep him warm against the chill of the air.  Pope cries, kissing JJ and telling him how much he loves him, and Cleo sits down next to him and sighs.  "I'm just so glad you're back."

Kiara watches and wonders.  Her eyes grow heavy but she's afraid to sleep.

Because she's still not sure, is she?

Which part is the dream.

-o-

In the end, the fire burns low, and the others drift to sleep.  JJ doesn't seem tired, as if the last month has been a long nap for him.  He lays down next to her, spooning her in his arms, and nuzzles her cheek.

It's so familiar that she nearly breaks.  She rolls toward him and looks at him.

His lips, his nose.  His dirty blonde hair and those blue, blue eyes.  Her boy.  The other half of her soul.  JJ.

She reaches up, tracing the shape of his face, and it's so real that it hurts.  The idea that she'd lost this, that she'd buried this -- isn't something she can comprehend.

"I couldn't do it without you," she admits.

"You could," he murmurs at her.

She shakes her head, and her eyes are burning.  "I couldn't.  JJ, it -- destroyed me," she says.  "I couldn't."

He frowns, brows pulling together.  "That's not -- I would never--"

She can't stop, though.  "All I could do was think about revenge.  About how you would want to get even.  That was all that kept me going."

He tips his head to the side, and for the first time, she sees his grief.  He'd been grieving for years, struggling against a life that took more than it gave.  Kiara had shattered in a single month.  JJ had been keeping himself together for 20 years, and here he is, still doing it.

"I would never want that for you," he says.  "I just want you to be happy."

"But how was I going to be happy without you?" she asks, voice so quiet that it doesn't feel real.

"There's so much more out there," he tells her. "So much better than me--"

It hurts, like a knife to the heart -- again.  She shakes her head, jaw going hard.  "No," she says.  "JJ, no--"

"I'm just saying, Kie--"

But she won't let him finish.  She won't let him think it. 

It occurs to her now, that JJ died thinking he was expendable.  That JJ died thinking that it was okay that it was him.  JJ breathed his last believing that he had it coming, that he was never meant to be happy anyway, that he'd made too much of a mess to fix it.

JJ had died thinking he deserved it.

He had no idea, did he?  That for all his mistakes, he was the best of them?  That he'd lost the money -- yes.  But they'd lost him.

They'd lost him well before Groff put a knife in his gut to finish the job.

They'd lost him when he jumped off the boat.  They'd lost him when he drowned his misery in alcohol.  They'd lost him when Groff left him for dead the first time, and when he went to his mother's grave alone.  They'd lost him that day in the courthouse, and they'd lost him when he got that letter.  They'd lost him because they stopped trying to hold him.

They'd lost him because they'd stopped seeing him as a person -- and just a problem.

Luke beat the shit out of JJ for years.  Groff had abandoned him and put a knife in his gut.

But the Pogues?  His friends?  The family he'd chosen?

They'd been the ones to bury him in the end.

JJ had been falling apart in front of them, and they'd ignored it.

"JJ," she says.  "Do you know how much we love you?  Do you know how much I love you?"

He looks at her, blinking for a second.  Then, his gaze skitters away.

It's ripping her apart, and she reaches up, cupping his face until he looks at her.

"I should have asked if you were okay," she says.  "I should have sat you down and made you talk.  I should have told you how much I loved you, how nothing changed that."

He looks distressed by this, and he shakes his head.  "I shouldn't have lost the money.  I shouldn't have started that riot.  I shouldn't have brought the cops on all of us," he says, voice heavy with grief.  "Dying was the least I could do--"

She's hated Groff so much over the last month.

But now, she hates herself.

She hates that she let JJ die so alone.

She hates that she used his death for her own means.

She hates everything.

"Kie?" he asks.  "I'm sorry--"

It's a game, right?  This blame game.  The back and forth, who started what and who hurt who.  It doesn't matter, in the end.  There is no good guy and there is no bad guy.  There are just people who make mistakes.

And the people who forgive them in the end.

She kisses him, tear on her cheeks.  She pulls him in, pulls him close.

"I love you," is alls he can say.  "I love you so damn much."

Because she can't change it.  She can't wash the blood from her hands any more than JJ can put their money back in the bank.  She can't go back and make sure JJ knew she loved him any more than JJ can change the downward spiral that got him killed.

"I love you, too," he says, he breathes it.  She feels the cadence of his heart, pounding against her own, and the warmth of his skin as they hold each other.  "I love you, Kiara."

It's penance, and it's absolution.  It's an apology, and it's a promise.

In the end, it's all they have.

It's all they need.

-o-

The night grows deep and dark as the embers die out.  He's still holding her, and she blinks sleepily up at him.  It's hard to tell, see.  Which part is the dream.

And if she closes her eyes.

What the world will be like when she wakes up.

He seems to understand, as he always does, and he caresses her face, kissing her gently.

"Go to sleep," he soothes.  His voice is steady; his touch is strong.  "I'll still be here when you wake up."

Kiara has doubted so much -- the world, her friends, herself -- but she doesn't doubt him.  Not now, not ever again.

So she closes her eyes and leans into his touch, and lets the sound of his heart lull her to sleep in the soft Moroccan sand.

Whatever she wakes up to in the morning, she'll wake up with him.

[brighteststar707]

Compact Mirror with Zen! 🤍

Love ya!!

Hello hello! Thank you for the request! I hope you enjoy the fic 😊

I've taken this one as another excuse to ramble about my own personal Zen lore hehe

✧ Compact Mirror ~ Self-reflection and growth/progress

Zen's trailer is roomy, rigged up with anything he might need while on set. It's bigger than any other dressing room he has had while working on previous projects and certainly more lavish than the rooms he used to have while working on theatre productions.

It's surreal.

Unchanged from those days though, are the pictures he has tacked up on the walls around the mirror. Of his friends back home, of audiences full of fans, and of her. If he’s being honest, they’re mostly of her. His driving force, his biggest supporter, his great love. She’s in nearly every picture, smiling down at him as he gets ready between scenes.  

On days like today, it’s those pictures that bring him comfort. He is a long way away from home working on this film (his biggest role yet, as she often reminds him). A few hours earlier he had phoned her to chat before he had to get back to work. At this moment, he’d guess that she’s at home in the living room, winding down after her own day of work.

Home. Over the past few years, the two of them have worked hard to turn their first house together into a proper home. They had moved out of the basement apartment not long after she became his manager, due to worries about their safety and his career taking off after the RFA party.

Now, despite how much luxury he has been exposed to while filming, he misses home more than ever.

Feeling homesick is a new experience for him. His parent’s house never really felt like home. His space was often invaded, he was never allowed to let go and be himself for fear of disappointing them and being told off. His most prized belongings were often hidden away to prevent them from being found and confiscated. As a child, his school music room often made him feel more comfortable than his own bedroom.

Then, when he left, he spent some time crashing on peoples’ sofas and leaky inflatable mattresses. Till this day he is endlessly thankful for the generosity of the people who took him in, but those spaces weren’t his to begin with. There wasn’t much to miss when he left.

That was the time he had started landing roles and found himself spending a lot of time in the rooms backstage. Before shows, warming up and resting and spending time with his fellow castmates.

He might not miss his couch surfing days, but he definitely misses the feeling of performing in theatre productions. There was something special about the communal feeling of a group of actors preparing for a show together, especially when he was still landing smaller roles and didn't ever get his own dressing room. The chaos of the last-minute costume changes, dashing around backstage to make it to places on time. The inside jokes the actors had between each other and the familiarity of old faces in new productions. His eyes search the pictures around his mirror for them now, pictures taken on a banged-up camera he had bought at the charity shop with one of his first pay checks.

The memories of the ambiance in those pictures forms a startling contrast to the silence of his trailer now. He’s the only one here, in a room that could fit so many of his friends and colleagues. While the peace is calming, it also serves as a reminder of how lonely he can get.

Landing film jobs has been a dream come true for Zen, and he is forever grateful for all the people who helped get him there. That being said, making the jump away from a scene he has been a part of for ten years was bittersweet. He knows he wouldn’t be where he is now if it weren’t for the people he worked with back then.

He can still remember the director of the first production he worked on. The one who gave him the job that would eventually allow him to rent his first apartment. He was kind, and saw what talent Zen had before most of the industry did. The job he gave him was the one that allowed him to leave his gang days behind and establish a real home for himself.

He will always be fond of his basement apartment. The box of belongings he had managed to bring with him when he left home, the letters from fans he had put up on the wall, his little keyboard (another gem from the charity shop) and the slow accumulation of things that were his. Nobody could tell him what to do with that space except for him.

Over the years, that apartment became the monument to his personal and professional growth. A few years in, he managed to buy himself a computer. His bedframe is one he bought and put together by himself. He even managed to afford a decent TV a year after moving in.

In the living room there was a stack of CDs from some of his favourite artists, a collection that stretches back to when he was still a teenager. Beside it, there was a stack of DVDs from his performances that were recorded. The day he got the first one, he put it next to the CD stack and then sat on the sofa, just to look at them side-by-side. His own performance, recorded for ever, bought by so many people to live in their homes forever.

It was the first time that he felt like he was leaving a mark on the world.

Since then, the stack has grown to include official cast recordings, performances, and now even the movies he has starred in.

He is fond of that apartment because it was his in every way. Paid for by his own hard work, furnished the way he wanted it to be. By contrast, he loves the new house because it is something he built together with his partner. The space is not his, made to accommodate her, but theirs in every detail.

He can find her touch in the paint on the walls (a job she insisted on doing herself) and the pattern of the bedsheets. Her belongings sit next to his on the shelves and their photos are clustered together on the walls. It's a home built on their love, and it's the one he misses the most when he's in this strange space.

Sometimes, in quiet moments like this, it's easy for Zen to lose himself in how far he has come and how much around him has changed. He stares at the pictures he has hanging up and loses himself in the memories.

He can vividly remember what he was feeling through each of those moments in his life. On the upper corner, there’s a picture of him sitting on stage surrounded by castmates, taken during rehearsals. His hair is messily tied back and his face is flushed but he’s smiling widely along with the rest of them. They had just worked through a big dance number and this was the first time they had gone through it properly on stage. He remembers how badly he wanted to do a good job and impress the actors he was working with.

Next to it, with the corner slightly overlapping the first picture, is one from the first RFA parties. Everyone looked terribly young and they were all posed so stiffly. They were still strangers then, without a clue of what they had stepped into. With some difficulty he remembers Rika calling out to them from behind the camera, reminding them to smile.

Then, there’s one where he’s surrounded by a group of fans. They had waited until after the show to ask for pictures and of course he had agreed. He remembers them giving him small gifts and flowers and he returned home with his hands (and heart) full. Then, when he finally made it back into his apartment – opening doors with your hands full of trinkets is harder than it looks – he was hit with a wave of loneliness. So many people liked the work he did, and they were so kind. But he still ended up at home alone every day, without anyone to share the joy with.

Little did he know how soon after that moment he’d meet the love of his life. It’s funny how those things work out. He wishes he could reach out to the person he was at each of those moments, when he was struggling and unsure and scared, and tell them that it would all lead to this moment.

His phone screen lights up and he is momentarily distracted. It's as if she can hear his train of thought, he thinks, as he answers her call.

"Honey! I was just thinking about you!"