#it's an exercise in writing character voices okay???

[memento-morri-writes]

so, it's not work on my WIPs, but I wrote my d&d character's (Rook's) backstory the way I imagine him telling it to the party. And wow, somehow it hurts 20x times more this way. Can't wait to roleplay this scene next week!!

Have an excerpt of my favorite part.

TW for drugging/selling a person + violence in the screenshot below.

ouch

transcript under the cut. TW for drugging and selling of a person, plus violence.

[he pauses, taking a deep breath]

“A few months later, we were all ashore for a couple nights. In Bon Largo, actually. Some of the crew invited me to a tavern for a drink. They bought me a few rounds. Told me to consider it something of a late birthday gift.” [he shakes his head] “Next thing I remember is waking up on a cot in a tiny storage room with a pounding headache and chains around my wrists.” [he swallows hard] “I could tell I was at sea from the rocking, but I sure as hell wasn’t on the Tide Breaker. I banged on the door, yelling my head off, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. All I got for my trouble was a knock upside the head.

“A while later, they hauled me up on deck. We were in the middle of the ocean, miles from anywhere I knew. A woman came over, dressed in the finest captain’s attire I’d ever seen. Introduced herself as Captain Kora Wolf, and started talking. Gloating at me, really. Told me I was on the Sea Snake. That I belonged to her now.” [he scowls, looking up at the rest of the party.] “Those bastards sold me. Slipped something in my drink, tied me up like an animal and sold me.”

[he slumps back, seemingly defeated. His voice is quieter as he continues.]

“I was on that ship for a little over two years. Never set so much as a foot on land the whole time. Spent a fair bit of it in that storage room, too.” [he sighs] “I plotted and planned for months before I was able to escape. Had a few false starts, and got a handful of new scars for my efforts.

“Finally I saw my chance. Most of the crew, including the Captain, [he spits that word like it’s a curse] was on shore. I got out of my cell and made my way up on the deck. Had to knock out a handful of crew to even make it that far.“I knew she had my rapier, since she’d shoved it in my face a few times, and I refused to leave without it. Picked the lock on her cabin door and slipped inside. Thank the gods she hadn’t taken it with her.” [he’s clutching the hilt of the rapier tightly in his lap]

[salfishersface]

love your work !!! ur writing is so sophisticated? idk how to describe it but its AMAZING. is it okay to request a casual afternoon with bf! sal where reader is just on her phone while he’s lazily eating her out? :33

Lazy Days || Sal Fisher

Synopsis - You're scrolling through your phone while Sal some exercise for his tongue.

Warnings - NSFW.

Notes - Characters are 18+!

Notes - This is so sweet! Thank you so much for your kind words! I hope you enjoy this!!

Word Count - 1.1k.

{Caffeinate Me}

Sal Fisher, your boyfriend, was always convincing you to have lazy days at his: no matter what you had to do. They always ended the same way; you were scrolling through your phone while Sal played on his guitar, but today, something was different. As usual, you were scrolling through your phone, but instead of strumming on his guitar, your boyfriend was nestled between your legs and his tongue was poking out to lick at your wet slit. He had been at this for almost an hour, pushing you to the edge of orgasm over and over again only to deny you your release until he was good and ready. You occasionally let out soft little gasps as his tongue would circle your clit, but for the most part, he remained seated in your tight, sopping hole. 

“Sal,” you whined softly, moving your hips to the side slightly to get more comfortably. 

“Yes princess?” He asked against your cunt, pulling away slightly to look up at you. 

“Are you going to be down there all day?” You asked jokingly, a moan on the tip of your tongue as you rolled your eyes. 

Sal licked another stripe up your slit before sucking on your clit, forcing the moan to tumble from your lips. “If you’ll let me,” he mumbled. You looked down at his scarred face and smiled, trailing one of your hands to his blue hair and pushing his face back into your cunt. “Good girl,” his muffled voice came as he continued to lap at you. Another moan left your mouth as Sal continued his ruthless assault before biting ever so slightly at your folds and making you squeak. You took a shaky breath and continued scrolling through your phone, trying to ignore the pleasure that was once again building up in your core. 

But it was no use. “Sally,” came another whine from your throat. 

“You going to cum baby?” He asked, voice soft against your cunt. You placed your phone on the bedside table next to Sal’s prosthetic while nodding violently. You were so fucking close to your release and knew that one more lick to your clit would send you over the edge. You bucked your hips up pathetically, desperate to get Sal to delve his face back into your heat and of course he obliged. He couldn’t pass up the opportunity to have you cumming all over his face. The time, Sal paid close attention to your throbbing clit, sucking and hollowing his cheeks over the sensitive bundle of nerves. Immediately you saw white, stars filling your mind as you felt yourself shamelessly spray over his tongue. 

“Sal!” You cried out, legs shaking as your orgasm violently washed over you. It was definitely the most intense orgasm you had ever had, but it was no wonder. All that edging had made you explode. 

“You’re so good for me baby,” Sal cooed softly, tugging his sweats down to his knees and slipping his cock between your well-lubricated folds. “I’d say you’re ready for me now.” 

You nodded in agreement, facial expression showing your eagerness. Without hesitation, you wrapped your arms around your boyfriends neck and pulled him as close to your body as possible as he slowly slipped inside of your wet heat with ease. You both let out melodic moans as he bottomed out inside of you completely, both of your desires finally satiated. Sal gave you a second to adjust before he began to move his hips, knowing that you were slightly overstimulated. Although Sal’s movements were slow, they were anything but caring. He slowly snapped his hips against yours, but his movements were sharp, hitting that spongy spot inside of you. You threw your head back onto the pillows behind you and let out a loud moan, “faster Sally!” 

“Faster?” He asked cheekily, hips snapping against yours in a quicker motion. Moan after moan tumbled from your lips as Sal increased his pace, desperate to feel your cunt flutter around his cock. It was a feeling that he was addicted to, easily. “God I can feel you getting tighter baby. You like that?” Sal asked, clearly poking fun at you. All you could do was nod. You certainly weren’t in the mood for his teasing right now. Sal nodded right back at you, thrusting as hard and as fast as he could into your tight cunt. You were practically drooling and squirming underneath him, body not ready for the second orgasm that was quickly approaching. “Stay still baby,” Sal whispered to you, his hands trailing down to your hips to keep your body in place. 

“I can’t!” You cried out. You bit your bottom lip to stop the scream threatening to erupt from your throat. 

“Yes you can sweetheart. Be a good girl and cum again,” he whispered, voice sweeter than honey. You wrapped your legs further around his waist, nails digging into his shirt as he continued to fuck into you. “Lift your hips up sweetie.”

You did as you were told, lifting your hips up until Sal’s cockhead was kissing your cervix, the new angle sending you tumbling over the edge. You saw stars for the second time, body filled with white hot energy as your orgasm rippled through your entire body. Sal groaned as your pussy contracted around him and he bent down to place a passionate kiss on your lips, hips not faltering as he fucked you. It was only a few seconds before Sal was spurting thick, hot ropes inside of you from his angry red tip. “Fuck!” He exclaimed, his hips stilling as his cock continued to twitch his release inside of you. 

When he was finally finished cumming, Sal slowly pulled out of you. You let out a soft giggle and smiled at your boyfriend, “fuck indeed.” 

Sal lay down next to you, laying his head on your shoulder before pressing soft kisses to your cheek. 

“I love you,” he whispered softly, but before you had a chance to respond, he continued to talk. “I think we should make a habit of lazy days like this.” Sal grinned up at you, forcing another giggle to escape your lips. 

“If you’re going to fuck me like that everytime, then I think we should,” you agreed, nodding your head slightly. 

“Good,” Sal whispered, finally allowing his heavy eyes to flutter closed. 

Sal was asleep in no time, snoring gently against your shoulder. You rolled your eyes playfully and smiled, grabbing your phone back off the bedside table and deciding to flick through social media until he woke up. You really were one lucky woman.

[sadprose-auroras]

On Top – Hazel Callahan x reader

Hi! I have been able to think of literally nothing else but this character, so I simply had to. Shoutout to all the incredible writers who have been doing the lord’s work writing for Hazel already, you’re all amazing <3 I just had to add my little contribution.

Content: mild violence, sexual themes and making out, cursing, out of practise writing, no use of y/n.

Summary: Cheerleader!reader and Hazel have the hots for each other. Other stuff contextualises that, but it’s not as interesting. That’s about it. Please let me know if you enjoy! Word count: 4.4k

You first heard about the club when PJ and Josie approached you in the hallway as you were searching desperately for a book in your locker.

“Where is it?” you mumbled to yourself, when the pair came up behind you suddenly.

“Hey!”

You yelped in surprise, whipping around.

“Oh, hi. PJ. Josie.” You smiled. You weren’t particularly close with the two best friends, but you were friendly. Josie, more so. It wasn’t hard to be a little annoyed when you saw PJ treat Hazel the way she did. Okay, so maybe it infuriated you. Sure, your immense crush on Hazel might have had something to do with it, but nobody deserved to be tossed aside carelessly like that.

“What’s up? Um, we have a proposition for you,” Josie said. You frowned.

“Okay, what is it?” You were suddenly a little nervous.

“We think there is a serious lack of female solidarity at this school,” said PJ.

“Agreed,” you nodded. And you really did.

“So we’ve started this women’s, uh, like, um, solidarity club, to help us, y’know, come together, beat the patriarchy, learn to defend ourselves, it’s in the gym after school if you feel like coming along?” PJ asked.

“That actually sounds great.” You were excited. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t slightly terrified of everything that was going on.

“Really? Great! And we were thinking that maybe you could bring along, y’know, some of your friends? Like- oh gosh, for example, Brittany and Isabel? Or-or- any of your, y’know fellow cheerleaders.”

You suppressed a smile. They were so not obvious. But you were down. Although you were considered fairly popular being a cheerleader, you were keen to hang out with some other girls. It felt like nobody truly understood you.

“I make no promises about Brittany and Isabel but I’ll ask! I’ll see you guys then,” you smiled, closing your locker. The bell rang, and you said your goodbyes as you headed off to class. You gave up on finding your book. Classes were weirdly short at your school, anyway.

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

It didn’t take much convincing to get your friends to join you. Isabel was immediately excited about the club, and Brittany, bless her soul, followed Isabel anywhere she went. Your shoes awkwardly squeaked on the gym floor as the three of you walked in and approached the group. All eyes turned to the three of you, some sitting, some standing, and a silence fell among everyone. You cleared your throat, speaking up first.

“Hey, this is the women’s solidarity club, right? We want to join.”

To your surprise, Hazel was the first to bound over and smile. Your heartbeat rapidly increased and your cheeks warmed, so you quickly looked down, avoiding eye contact.

“Hey you guys, come on in! We were just about to start-“

“Trust exercises.” Josie interrupted.

“Wrestling- wrestling each other.” PJ said at the same time, her eyes locked on Brittany. “It’s a fight club, actually.” You frowned. Surely if you were going to start a club, you’d have a clear picture of what it was going to be first? They seemed to have no idea what they were doing.

Your friend seemed completely ignorant, or at the least unphased by PJ’s crush on her. Hazel cleared her throat, and you felt a surge of sympathy for the girl. Not that you would ever tell her that. You could barely look at her without melting into a puddle. Her big, dreamy eyes that you could pretty much drown in. Her smooth-as-honey voice. Her radiant smile. The way she was so sweet to everyone, even if they didn’t deserve it. How she was simultaneously so sure of herself, seemingly so confident. Her floppy hair that was always getting in her eyes, and just looked so soft that you always wanted to just reach out and-

Oh shit. You were definitely staring now. You looked away quickly, heart racing.

“We’re not supposed to talk about th-“ Josie mumbled to PJ. “It’s a self defence club,” she explained to the group. “Come on,” she gestured, and you all gathered in a circle, sitting down. Hazel sat next to you, and you had never been so aware of somebody’s physical presence before. All you needed to do was move your leg over a few inches and hers would be touching yours. You were vaguely aware of PJ explaining that you were going to practise defending yourselves against each other, but you were only half listening. You were too busy staring at Hazel’s knee. It was so close to yours. You were snapped out of your thoughts by her knee nudging yours. You looked up at Hazel, mortified that you were caught out.

“That’s you,” Hazel said.

“Huh? What? Oh,” you laughed nervously, putting two-and-two together. Josie had said your name. You gulped. You really didn’t want to go first. Surely fighting each other was counterintuitive for solidarity? You sat up, moving to the middle of the circle.

“And um… Hazel.” Josie said. Your eyes widened. You particularly didn’t want to fight her. What if you hurt her?

“Right, okay,” Hazel chuckled awkwardly, standing up to move into the middle as well. You smiled at each other nervously and began circling each other.

“C’mon!” someone shouted.

“Hit each other!” somebody else yelled even louder. Your heart racing, you took a step forward, swinging your fist, nowhere near as hard as you could have, cringing as you did so. Hazel, thankfully, ducked, and you missed. Continuing to circle each other, you both laughed nervously.

The group shouted encouragements, egging you both on. Hazel swung this time as you attempted to dodge. You didn’t quite move fast enough though, and her fist made contact with your cheekbone. You bit back a smile. It was not okay how much you enjoyed it.

“Get her, Hazel! Slay queen!” Sylvie shouted, as she swung again, and this time you ducked quickly. Using the opportunity, you thought you’d better try again, and attempted a right hook, cringing internally when your fist made contact. Hazel smiled. She actually smiled.

“Nice one,” she said, hitting you again, knocking you down onto your back. Amidst the shock, you were vaguely aware of your lip bleeding from where Hazel’s ring made contact. Before you could move to get up, she was on top of you, hips straddling yours, pinning down your wrists. The way her body was pressed against yours made your head spin and your breath quicken. Not to mention the throbbing between your thighs. Your cheer skirt had ridden up in the process, and it was difficult not to notice the only thing covering you were the thin bike shorts underneath.

“Ready to give up yet?” she asked, smirking. You smiled, using all of your strength to push her off you, the two of you rolling over so now you were on top of her. There was something about this particular situation that was making you so much more brave then usual.

“Definitely not,” you replied. There was a bit of back and forth as you rolled around, eventually ending up on your back, Hazel on top of you. Not that you were complaining. The soft noises she made, grunting and groaning as you fought, were possibly the hottest sounds you had ever heard in your entire life. It made you wonder what she sounded if they were noises of pleasure, instead of pain, if she might moan in delight if you were to kiss her neck, if you were to be between her legs, how she would gasp-

“Hazel wins!”

Oh fuck. Your train of thought had absolutely distracted you. You literally had forgotten to keep fighting back, too busy enjoying yourself. Hazel stood up, the loss of the feeling of her against you a large disappointment. You picked yourself up as well, wincing at the pain. Hazel was looking pretty worse for wear as well, blood dripping from her nose, hair mused. You vaguely wondered if it was normal to find it incredibly sexy.

“Well done,” you said, as she reached out to shake your hand. God, she was so endearing. You tried to ignore how much sweat had pooled on your palms.

“You too,” she said, “you were amazing.”

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

The next few weeks in the club were truly amazing. Despite the fighting being the thing to bring all of you together, you really felt like you had bonded with every single one of the girls more than you could have imagined. There was a beauty in the trust you put in each other’s hands to be that violent with each other.

More than anything, you felt closer to Hazel. You could actually speak to her without feeling like you were going to explode with anxiety, instead wanting to explode with affection. The pair of you had developed a habit of sitting next to one another, and after every meeting you would hang around after everyone else had left, caught up in conversation. Those small moments were such a safe space, they felt electric; you felt like you could tell her anything and she would listen. And vice versa.

Well. Almost anything.

The two of you were sitting cross-legged in the middle of the gym floor, facing each other. You couldn’t even remember how long ago everyone else had left.

“I dunno, I just feel like this is the first time I’ve had actual, real, friends in school, you know?” Hazel said. The sadness in her eyes and twitch in her brow made you want to scream, to grab the shoulders of anyone who didn’t want to be her friend and ask what the fuck was fundamentally wrong with them.

You nodded sympathetically.

“Me too. I mean, I love Brittany and Isabel, but we didn’t even talk about anything that wasn’t cheer or schoolwork or petty relationship drama until we joined the club. Now we talk about real things.”

“That’s so great,” Hazel said softly, turning your insides to mush.

“You’re so great,” you breathed out quickly, gently placing your hand on her leg before you could think. You cleared your throat, drawing your hand back and placing it back in your lap, clasping your hands together.

“Thank you,” she said your name, and you fought the urge to melt into the floor at the way your name passed through her lips.

Suddenly, the door swung open, and you both whipped your heads to see who it was. PJ wandered in, and you stiffened.

“Hey, I left my backpack.” She jogged up, grabbing it off the ground and swinging it onto her shoulder. “What are you guys doing?”

“Nothing,” you said, possibly a little too defensively.

“Yeah, just talking,” Hazel said, standing up. You basically deflated with disappointment.

“We still on for tonight? I really need some help,” PJ said to Hazel expectedly, and she nodded in response.

“Yeah, for sure. See you later,” she smiled at you, and you tried to hide your disappointment.

“Bye guys,” you waved, waiting until they left to lay down on the floor and groan.

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

“PJ, you’re a liar!”

“Yeah, well, you have no friends and a skank as a mom, so…”

The pain on Hazel’s face was evident. She looked like a kicked puppy. Your blood boiled. How dare PJ say that, after everything Hazel had done for her? Enough was enough. You shot up, stalking over to PJ, rage burning inside of you. With one swift movement, you swung your fist right to the centre of her face, knocking her clean onto the floor.

It suddenly dawned on you what you had done. All of your friends watched in shock, mouths hanging open. Nervously, you turned around, Hazel gazing at you in shock.

“I-uh-“ you stuttered, utterly humiliated. Before you could apologise to PJ for taking it too far, before anyone could say anything, Hazel darted off, the doors shutting loudly behind her.

“PJ, I’m sorry, I-“ you stuttered out to the girl still laying on the floor, before taking off after Hazel.

“Haze, wait!” You followed her figure out the gym, down the hallway, around a corner, and into the toilets.

You entered, taking a deep breath. Hazel was leaning against the sink, chewing on her fingernails.

“Are you okay? I’m so sorry, that was uncalled for. I know you don’t need me to stand up for you, and I know you like PJ, and that was so not my place, and-“ you said quickly. “I’m just really sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologise to me,” Hazel sighed. “You were incredible. I should be thanking you, really.”

“Oh.” You took a small step forward, hands clasped behind your back.

“I don’t like PJ, by the way,” she shook her head, chuckling. Your stomach rolled and dipped.

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” she smiled softly.

“I just hear the way she speaks to you, and I don’t know, I think you deserve better than that,” you shrugged.

“I know I do,” she said, shuffling back and forth nervously. “I just always want to see the best in people, I guess.”

“I love that about you,” you said quickly, without thinking. Blood rushed to your cheeks. You were getting dangerously close to confessing the entirety of your feelings for her. She was the one who made you feel brave. Hazel looked away shyly at this, grinning. God, she was beautiful. You took a moment to admire her.

“That doesn’t mean that you can’t be self-assured and brave at the same time,” you continued. “Really, I’ve always thought that you seem so confident.”

“I’m not as brave as I could be,” she said quietly, scanning your face. “As you.” She inched ever so closer to you. Her eyes were burning into yours, making you feel positively dizzy. “There’s so many things I wish I could do, but I just… don’t have the confidence.” Her voice got quieter and quieter as she spoke.

“Like what?” you asked, nibbling at your bottom lip. You didn’t even remember when you got this close to each other, all you had to do was lean forward just a bit and you would be-

“Oh my god, Hazel are you okay?” the door swung open, and you both jumped back.

“Y-yeah, thanks Josie,” Hazel replied, her adorable face reddening. “It was a wake-up call, if I’m honest.”

“Between you and me, PJ had it coming,” Josie said, placing her hand on your shoulder. You smiled at her gratefully. “Someone had to do it. I really think she’ll come to her senses and realise that she needs to treat you better, Hazel.”

“Thank you. Honestly, I don’t even care that much anymore,” she shrugged, stealing a glance at you. Your breath quickened.

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

It took a few weeks, but everything pretty much went back to normal. PJ was genuinely showing Hazel how sorry she was, appreciating all of the work she did for the club. You and PJ were fine, as well. You forgave each other. Meetings went back to normal, and you found yourself constantly grateful for the group of strong, brave, kind-hearted, supportive girls.

You were currently sitting on your bed, books sprawled out in front of you, ‘studying.’ Okay, so maybe you weren’t entirely concentrating on science homework. Maybe, just maybe, you couldn’t get a certain brunette out of the forefront of your mind. Particularly a certain near-kiss incident. You always presumed there was no way she liked you, that she liked PJ, but now you weren’t sure. Would she have kissed you if you hadn’t been interrupted? Your doorbell rang, and you sighed in relief at the distraction from your rumination. Being home alone, you went down your stairs, heading towards the door and opening it before checking who it was. Nothing could have prepared you to see Hazel standing there, looking incredibly nervous and incredibly adorable. She was wearing a back and white shirt paired with a black vest that should have been illegal to look that good in.

“Hey!” you said, perhaps a little too cheerfully. “What are you doing here? Do you wanna come in?”

She grinned that smile of hers that you swear could cure any disease.

“Yeah, thanks. Just came to see you, if that’s okay? I know it’s a bit weird, I hope I’m not interrupting anything?” You shook your head as she wiped her feet before entering, and you shut the door behind her.

“Just studying. So boring. I’m grateful for the distraction,” you chuckled. And you truly were grateful. It’s as if all your worries and anxieties about Hazel disappeared as soon as she was in front of you. Because it was just Hazel. Your Hazel. Your friend. And no matter what, you loved her. And you knew she cared for you, romantic or not. And that wasn’t going to change.

“Look, I-“ she started, taking a deep breath, and then beginning again. “I’m trying to be brave like you are. To say what I feel when I feel it.” Her voice was steady and even. You wanted to correct her, tell her that you don’t say what you feel, but she continued.

“And what I feel, is that I might just die if I don’t kiss you right now.”

Holy shit.

Instead of responding, you placed your hand behind her neck, both of your bodies moving in sync towards each other. The moment your lips met, you exhaled through your noses in sync. As if you were both saying, finally. Her hands found your waist as your lips softly grazed one another’s, testing the water. You parted your lips slightly, deepening the kiss. Kissing somebody new usually felt daunting as you learned to navigate it, but you had never felt safer. Hazel’s hands moved back and forth on your waist, as her tongue darted out ever so slightly. You moaned softly into the kiss, hands gently threading through the hair at the bottom of her neck. It was just as soft as you imagined.

You pulled apart for a moment, faces close to one another. Neither of you could contain your smiles. You vaguely wondered if it was possible to faint from feeling so many butterflies. Not being able to help yourself, you reached up and brushed her hair out of her eyes.

“Wow,” you exhaled.

Hazel was the first one to move this time, crashing your lips together with more urgency this time. The kiss grew more passionate as you wrapped your arms around each other, yours draped around her neck, hers engulfing your entire back. It was as if you couldn’t get any closer, as if you were drowning and kissing each other was oxygen. Pulling apart ever so slightly, you gave her one last kiss, then another, because you simply couldn’t help it.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” You giggled, arms still draped around her neck.

“Me too,” she whispered, before kissing your forehead. God, could she get any cuter?

“Really?” you raised an eyebrow, as you both began to move to get more comfortable on the couch, sitting beside one another.

“Yeah, are you kidding!?” she said dramatically. “But you’re like this hot, popular cheerleader, I never thought I’d have a chance with you!”

“I’m hot? Have you seen you?” you asked in disbelief.

She blushes a deep shade of red, mouth opening slightly as if she was going to say something, then closing it again.

“I didn’t even know if you were gay,” she eventually says.

You laughed.

“Don’t you remember the first time we fought? That was like, a sexual spiritual awakening. That was the gayest shit ever.” Hazel threw her head back and laughed, eyes crinkling at the sides.

“I can’t ever forget.”

“Oh! Also…” you said, grinning from ear to ear, absolutely giddy with disbelief that this was actually happening. You pulled your top up slightly to reveal your ribs, where a small tattoo of a pair of interlocked scissors resided. You both laughed. Hazel’s cheeks reddened, and she stuttered.

“Well, I- I mean… maybe you want to be a hairdresser?” she laughed, eyes glued to the tattoo.

“God, that’s so hot,” she mumbled under her breath. “Can I?” she asked reaching out, and you nodded, heart lurching at her care for asking. She gently traced the tattoo, and you let out a shaky breath. She was barely touching you, and yet her effect on you was all-encompassing. Goosebumps prickled your skin everywhere, not just where she was touching you.

“Hazel,” you whispered, barely loud enough for her to hear. “You can take it off if you want.” Your voice came out shakier than you anticipated. Hazel gulped, nodded, then pulled your top off, your arms stretching up to help her. She tossed it on the floor, eyes scanning all of you as if she couldn’t quite take it all in. You were in a plain cotton bra, still wearing your cheer skirt, but Hazel made you feel like you were wearing the most expensive, fancy lingerie ever. You cupped her face, thumbing her cheek, before pulling her in for a kiss. You kissed her with less urgency this time, taking the time to explore each other’s mouths slowly and passionately. She pulled you onto her lap, so you were straddling her, her hands resting on your hips. You slowly began to move against her in rhythm, moaning into the kiss.

Hazel murmured your name against your lips, breathing shakily.

“I want- I- you’re so-“ she tried. “Jesus fucking christ,” she said as she buried her face in the crook of your neck.

“Tell me what you want,” you whispered, running your fingers through her hair. Hazel began to kiss your neck, leaving a trail of kisses up to your ear. Shivers ran down your spine, and you sighed in pleasure.

“Whatever you want. Do whatever you want with me,” she whispered into your ear, and you quite literally nearly came right there and then.

“No, what do you want?” you asked, thumbing at her lip. She opened her mouth, sucking on your thumb before releasing it with a pop. You swore, she was going to actually put you into cardiac arrest. Despite this action, you could tell nobody had really asked her that before, and she was at a loss for words.

“I want to make you feel good. Is that okay?” you asked, instead of letting her answer.

“God yes,” she basically moaned, kissing you. Meanwhile, you pushed her vest off, making quick work of undoing the buttons of her shirt. You tossed the items on the floor, barely breaking your lips apart for a moment.

“Lay down for me,” you moved off her lap, letting her get comfortable. This gave you the perfect opportunity to run your eyes over her body. She was left in a soft black crop top and jeans. Looking down at her, her chest rising and falling, soft skin to die for, eyes wide with desire, lips plump from making out, it crossed your mind that you had never, ever, ever, seen a more heavenly sight.

“You’re so beautiful,” you breathed out, moving to straddle her again, intertwining your fingers together above her head.

“You’re the most beautiful,” she retaliated, nudging your noses together. You both giggled, and you kissed her softly.

“Take the compliment, baby. I mean it,” you said, kissing her again, before she could respond again. Still holding one of her hands, you moved the other down her tummy, lightly tracing patterns on her skin. Her eyes fluttered as she bit her lip.

“Touch me,” she said. You smirked.

“Now we’re getting somewhere,” you chuckled, glad she was asking for what she wanted.

“Can I take these off?” you blinked at her, fiddling with a belt loop on her jeans.

“Please,” she said breathily, arching her back slightly. You undid the button, the zipper, then stood up so she could shimmy out of them, you yanked them off her legs a little too hard, your feet giving out beneath you as you stumbled backwards, landing on your ass on the floor in shock. You looked at each other for a second, before both bursting out laughing.

“Smooth,” Hazel said between loud laughs. “Really smooth. How did you even manage that?” she teased, getting off the couch, instead onto the floor with you, crawling towards you. Your eyes drifted down to her cleavage, then back to her eyes. You inhaled sharply.

“Shut up,” you teased back, as she moved on top of you, pinning you down.

“I feel like we’ve been here before,” Hazel mused, holding your wrists down.

“I’m definitely getting flashbacks,” you laughed. “Except this time, I can just…” you kissed her, a little sloppily, but neither of you cared because it was so hot.

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

The very next day, you and Hazel walked hand in hand into a club meeting, giggling and whispering to each other. You were the last ones to arrive, having gotten a little distracted in the janitor’s closet.

Everyone turned to look at the pair of you, all seemingly realising what was happening at the exact same moment.

“Oh my god, FINALLY!”

“You fucked! Finally!”

“You were so obvious!”

“Slay queens!”

A chorus of excitement engulfed you, as everyone crowded around you, hugging the pair of you. PJ included.

“I’m really happy for you guys. This-“ she pointed back and forth between you, then made some inappropriate gestures, “makes a lot of sense.”

“Thanks, dude.” Hazel smiled at her.

“Okay, let’s start!” Josie chimed, and you all sat down in a circle. You didn’t let go of Hazel’s hand for a moment. “As per our new protocol, we’re drawing names for pairings.” She held up a hat full of slips with all of your names on it, shaking it around. She stuck her hand in, swirled it around a little too long for dramatic effect. She drew a paper out, reading it aloud.

“Hazel!” You internally groaned. You didn’t want anyone else to get that close to your girl.

“And….” She picked another piece, reading your name out. You grinned.

“Are you game?” Hazel asked, and you nodded enthusiastically.

“Only if you are.”

“Are you kidding?” She leaned into your ear to whisper. “Any excuse to get you on top of me.”

[3d-wifey]

NSFT Alphabet: MK1 Johnny Cage Edition

A/N: Wrote this to hold you Johnny girls (gender neutral) over until I finish that smut 😙 Plus, I find writing these Alphabets for a character in preparation to write full-fledged smut for them is very helpful in capturing accurate characterization. It's almost like a writing exercise. I've written three different ones so far and I tried to keep them in character, if that makes sense. Like, I tried putting their personality and language in it. Okay, enjoy.

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Talking. So much talking. But, honestly, did you expect anything else? As he’s pulling out, as he’s carrying you to the shower, as you’re washing his hair. And when it inevitably leads to shower sex, he’s talking then too. You’ll never meet a man who loves the sound of his own voice more than Johnny Cage.

B = Body Part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partners)

Uh, how ‘bout the artillery canons strapped to his arms? C’mon, I mean, who wouldn’t want a ticket to the gun show? 

Face. Is saying your face too cliche? Hear him out! You want specifics? He can do specifics! He likes the dimples that pop in your cheeks when he finally gets you to laugh at one of his jokes, the little crease you get between your eyebrows when he’s pissed you off, the adorable way your nose scrunches up when he does that one thing with his tongue that drives you crazy. See? Specifics!

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum, basically)

Pull out game…very weak. Embarrassingly weak, actually. He swears he’s never had this problem before. His ability to pull out in the nick of time has always been something he’s prided himself on. However, he vastly underestimated just how good you’d feel. He’s clean, you’re clean, and, hey! You both prefer the feeling of hitting it raw, the way nature intended it. However, your pussy’s like wet kryptonite. And he’s only a man. A very awesome man, but a man nonetheless. So birth control it is! Or, if you’re turned off by all the side effects, he can be talked into a vasectomy. It’s either that or give up the sweet, sweet embrace of your walls when he’s balls deep. 

On second thought, that vasectomy sounds pretty tempting. It is reversible, right?

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Johnny would leak his own sex tape. Plain and simple. He’d leak it from a burner account and watch the chaos ensue. There’s no shame in his game. Hey, it’s ranked the Number 1 Celebrity sex tape for a reason.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Is this even a question? Actors, singers, models, directors, producers. He’s THE Johnny Cage, Hollywood royalty. He’s fucked actual royalty. You’re in good hands—as long as he cares about you. If you’re a random hookup, then he’s not really working for your pleasure here. You’ll definitely cum, but it’s mainly a pit stop on his way to the finish line. 

F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying)

Reverse cowgirl. Johnny’s an ass man, through and through. He loves fucking up into you and watching your ass ripple with both of your movements. And he loves holding onto you. Big hands grabbing your waist, hips, thighs, and especially your ass. He also loves seeing you both in action. So reverse cowgirl + some artfully placed full-length mirrors = Him wrapping his arms around your stomach, rubbing at your clit, and forcing you to watch yourself as you desperately grind against him, AKA Heaven. 

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? etc.)

Oh, c’mon. It isn’t like him to be serious in any situation. He’s gotta slip a joke in every now and then. Get it? Slip a joke in?

H = Hair (How well-groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Wax on, wax off, baby. Smoother than a seal. Or, uh, some other sexy, hairless animal. You mourn when he waxes his happy trail. 

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment? The romantic aspect.)

You’ll be surprised by how charming he can be. It’s not all jokes and great orgasms. It’s also loving touches, reverent compliments, and amazing orgasms.

J = Jack off (Masturbation Headcanon)

He’s got a healthy libido and a pretty stacked schedule, so sometimes a quick introduction between his hand and mini Johnny can’t be helped. But he’s also got a smoking hot girlfriend (you), so jerking off by himself is a rare occurrence. 

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Exhibitionism. What can he say? He’s a performer at heart and he loves an audience. But nothing crazy, just your average celebrity having sex on a yacht that’s in full view of the paparazzi. Or the occasional jerking off with you telling him how fast or slow to go. Oh, and you can’t forget about the sex tapes. Man, with the amount of videos he has of the two of you going at it, he could start an archive. You two have definitely ended up on the cover of TMZ and the front page of Twitter.

Voyeurism. But only for you. He’s enthralled by anything you do, including how many of your much smaller fingers will you stuff inside yourself to replicate the feeling of him stretching you wide. It usually leads to you begging for him to touch you, something else he’s in love with. Nothing wrong with a little hands-on audience participation.

Dirty talk. Normally, dirty talk is kind of basic to any old romp in the hay, but Johnny, being Johnny, puts his own Cage flair on it. Those corny oneliners somehow translate to the perfect thing to say to get you hot. He’s like Shakespear, if Shakespear was good-looking and not a virgin. You know what they say: everything sounds better when you’re horny. Who says that? Uh…

Fighting/Sparing which always leads to blood play. Winning a match gets Johnny’s blood pumping. The adrenaline of escaping death and the crowd hyping him up. And the crux of it all is you who happens to get especially wet when he comes to you covered in blood, grinning with a glint in his eyes that’s poorly hidden behind his blood-speckled sunglasses (a glint that many may describe as mania). And it certainly goes the other way. Watching you kick ass makes him harder than a diamond. Sparing together is a no-brainer that leads to fucking on his gym floor, or, honestly, wherever you two fall. Lui Kang must regret making you two his champions in this timeline with how often he’s walked in on you two. Offering to let him join probably doesn’t soften the blow, but, hey, it’s only polite.

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)

In his mansion. In one of his lavish beds, or pressed up against the wall-length windows. In his Bentley or in the back of his limo. He’s a big fan of fingering you under the table at an award show and then fucking you in a bathroom at said award show when he should definitely be on stage presenting. For whatever reason, walking the red carpet always gets him worked up. And going to the club together always ends with you riding him in the VIP section.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Such a complex question for a man with complex taste. I’m joking, Johnny is so easy. It’s actually ridiculous how easily you turn him on. Laugh at his joke, hard. Complement his acting or fighting, hard. Running your fingers through his hair/scratching his scalp, hard. Feel him up/tease him in any context, hard. You’re covered in blood after a win, hard, hard, rock hard.

“Are you King Midas? Cuz you make me hard with just one touch.”

“That one was actually kinda clever.” 

N = No (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Nothing too gross. He’s all for sloppy, messy sex, but he has to draw the line somewhere. There’s nasty 👁🫦👁 and there’s n a s t y 👁👄👁. 

He likes to tease/do the opposite of what you say, but if you’re not 100% on board with what he’s doing, then he’s stopping it then and there. Remember: there’s nothing sexier than explicit consent!

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Preferred to receive before he started dating you, and only ever had the urge to go down on someone if he had been drinking before. After you started dating, he definitely loved it whenever you gave him head, but he didn’t realize how much pleasure he could get from giving you pleasure. 

He loves sloppy head, giving and receiving, so if you weren’t wet before, you definitely will be after he gets his mouth on you. 

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Depends on when and where you’re doing it. And if you two are “allowed” to be doing it in said place.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Big fan of the guy who came up with the idea of quickies, enough said. 

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)

C’mon. He’s the leading source of your sex tapes getting leaked. I mean, how do you think the paps keep finding you in compromising positions? A little tip-off to them while you take his tip, ha!

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?)

It’s like he runs off horsepower, good God. If you’re trying to go until he’s tired out, it’s gonna be a couple of rounds until then.

T = Toys (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He’s a fan of dildos. Specifically, watching you fuck yourself with one. “Go ahead, baby. Show me how bad you want me.” And show him, you do. God, you know how to put on a show. But you shouldn’t have to settle for some random dildo. You’re with the Cage man, and he would get a mold of his dick made for you. And they say he’s not romantic. 

Strap-on. That’s it. And he takes it well ;).

Remote-controlled vibrators, for you and him. Hell, let’s make a game out of it. See who can last the longest in public, there are no losers! 

U = Unfair (How much they like to tease)

His version of teasing is doing the opposite of what you said to do. You want him to speed up? He’s slowing down and making sure you feel every inch inside you. Oh, keep his hands above his head? You gonna make him? He’s a total brat, but you knew what you were getting yourself into when you agreed to date him.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Heh, yeahhh. He’s real loud. Moans, groans, screams, whimpers. You name it, he’s doing it. It’s the performer in him. And because he knows you like how he sounds.

W = Wild Card (A random headcanon for the character)

Tattoos? Sexy as hell. If you were to ever get his name tattooed on you (preferably a tramp stamp), then you might as well start planning what flowers you want in your bouquet. I could see him getting your name tattooed on him too. Probably on his pelvis, in the middle of his v-line. In case anyone ever needs a reminder of who his dick belongs to.  

Type of guy to dedicate a Mortal Kombat match to you, and then lose. Ah, I’m joking. He’d beat his opponent’s ass all because you promised him victory sex if he won and he doesn’t take victory sex lightly.

X = X-ray (Let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He’s got an 8.5–8.9 inch hog, shower not a grower. Little Johnny isn’t so little. There’s a reason he’s alright with doing full-frontal nudity if the scene calls for it. They’ve had to CG out his bulge in post-production in every Ninja Mime movie. It’s not his fault spandex happens to be the clingiest material known to man.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Higher than Mount Fuji. He’s a stallion in his prime with a gorgeous girlfriend. His spare time is filled with filling you. And you both tend to feed off of each other, so all it takes is for one of you to be the tiniest bit turned on, and then, boom! You’re both desperately grinding against each other in a supply closet. Ain’t that just the way?

Z = Zzz (How quickly they fall asleep afterward)

Depends. He’s kind of like a dog that needs to tire himself out before he can sleep. 

Click for a Johnny Cage-shaped surprise👀👀

[hellvcifer]

Hi! I was wondering if you could write a Hazbin Hotel x sad reader. Where the reader is just lying in their bed and hasn’t came out their room. And the Hazbin characters tries to give them comfort. If your not comfortable writing this then that’s totally fine 💗

RECLUSE— ଘ fic

pairing :: hazbin hotel residents x gn!reader wc :: 2.7k note :: hi there! i hope this is what you were looking for and brings you some comfort if you're feeling down. i wasn't sure which characters you were looking for specifically so i did a little of each for the main hotel crew. warnings :: reader is sad, isolation and pushing people away

“Good morning!” Charlie shouted, hands thrown in the air, a giant grin plastered on her face. “I have the per~fect morning planned for us. First, we’ll do our daily affirmations in our friendship circle, then we’ll try the trust fall exercises–this time without the egg boys–” her face wilted at the memory. Poor Tucker. “And then!” She immediately went back to her peppy-self, “I thought we could bake cookies!” She glanced at everyone who sat in the lounge area.

“Uh, we’re missing one.” Angel spoke, his body splayed across one of the couches as he casually scrolled through his phone. 

“Y/N hassn’t come down yet.” Sir Pentious added, a few of the egg boys walking around him, seemingly playing a game.

“Oh!” Charlie looked confused for a moment, “Well, uh, that’s okay!” She walked over next to her girlfriend and sat down on the open seat of one of the couches. “We can wait.”

“I’m sure they’ll be down shortly.” Vaggie placed a hand on Charlie’s bouncy thigh to help ease her pent up excitement for the activities she had planned. All was fine until a few more minutes passed. Then those few minutes turned into thirty. Then thirty turned into an hour. Charlie and Vaggie shared a look. 

“I’ll uh,” The princess stood, “I’ll just go check on them! To make sure everything is okay.” She nervously smiled before making her way to the stairs, Vaggie followed closely behind to accompany her. 

“I’m sure everything’s perfectly fine.” She did her best to calm the blonde.

“You’re right!” Charlie smiled. “They probably just slept in a little. Nothing to worry about!” Once they reached your door, Charlie cleared her throat, adjusting her posture before knocking. A few raps of her knuckles on the dull door and nothing was heard in response. “Uh, Hello~! Wakey-wakey, Y/N!” A couple more knocks. “Are you in there?” Her question was hopeful though she couldn’t help the slip of concern. You had always been on time, happily participating in her exercises, and helping around the hotel. It was increasingly odd to not see you around. “Maybe they’re not at the hotel?” She turned to Vaggie.

The girl shook her head. “No one saw them leave.” The answer only caused Charlie to huff in a pout. 

“Okay then.” She stood straight, eyes glimmering with determination. “If they won’t come out, then we’ll just go in!” She reached for the knob and grasped tightly.

“Wait, Charli–” The door was locked. She wiggled it a few more times, thinking maybe it was just stuck. The jostling grew more and more louder as she continued to try to open it. “Charlie, okay wait, stop.” 

“Go away!” A muffled voice called from behind the door causing them both to pause. Your muffled voice. 

“Y/N?” The blonde called out. “Uh, are you okay?”

“Please, just…” Your tone quieted. “Just leave.”

“Okay but I rea~lly think you should open the door! And we can talk! Or…” She nervously looked around, trying to come up with something. “Or~! you could join everyone downstairs! And we can, uh… We can…” She trailed off, eyes flitting to Vaggie.

“Maybe we should just give some space.” She suggested and Charlie sighed in response. Her head drooped. 

“Yeah, okay.” They walked off, with more questions than answers, and worried expressions. 

“I’m sure after today, things will be back to normal. Okay?” Vaggie side hugged Charlie. 

Inside your room you laid in your bed. Everything felt heavy, swallowed up in darkness. You let the blankets cocoon you in their warmth as you lie there, unmoving. Unmotivated. Drowning in the gray clouds of your mind. Surely, a few days like this and you’d be out of your funk. 

Nothing really put you there to begin with but you felt yourself becoming low-spirited over the past week. That morning, you knew it was impossible to get out of bed. You sunk further and further into the springed mattress, the lumps now cradling you and your sorrows. You heaved out a deep breath. Just a few days. And maybe, this dark storm will have passed. 

“It’s been four days!” Charlie worriedly paced back and forth in front of the fireplace. “And after all we’ve been through together I think it’s time we step in!”

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea, Sweetie.” Vaggie stood up, walking closer and placing a comforting hand on her girlfriend's shoulder. “When you ask to be left alone, sometimes you just gotta leave them alone.”

“Yeah, I don’t know. I’m with toots over there.” Angel gestured to Charlie, walking over with a drink in his hand. “I get wanting to shut out for a few days but not this long.” He leaned on the back of the couch.

“Perhapss they’re in need of ssome assistance?” Pentious’ tongue peaked out to end his words. 

“Good idea, boss!” One of his egg boys shouted from the ground.

Charlie’s face lit up, eyes widening upon hearing his words. “It’s a GREAT idea!” She turned towards everyone, hands held out in excitement. 

“No, Charlie!” Vaggie grabbed both her hands. “We already tried that and got told to leave.”

“Yeah, but that was you two.” Husk added, “And we know how you like to handle things.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

He rolled his eyes, “It means you don’t know how to read the situation.”

Vaggie was glaring at him fiercely when Angel straightened his back, “You know what, Kitty’s right.” He got closer. “Why don’t we try our hands at talking. Figure something from us might make ‘em feel better.”

“But the door’s locked.”

“Eh,” Angel waved his two right hands. “We’ll get 'em to open it.” He began walking to the stairs, Husk close behind him.

“And how exactly are we supposed to do that?” Husk asked.

“Oh, I got an idea.” He flashed a look before leading the bartender to his room. He made a short pit stop to pick up fat nuggets and then they made it to your room. A few knocks on your door and they were only answered with silence. 

“Hey Y/N~!” Angel called out. “You know, it’s been so lonely without you around and I have someone here that’s been dying to see you!” As if on queue, nuggets made two cute squeals of delight. 

“Really?” Husk narrowed his eyes at Angel. “You’re bribing them with the pig?”

Angel snapped to look at him. “Hey! Everyone loves this pig!” He sharply spoke in a low tone.

“Leave me alone!” They both snapped to stare at your door. 

“We brought booze?” Angel tried again, suggesting Husk’s bottle of whiskey. Which may not have been the best idea considering the slow turn the cat gave him. Entirely offended with his mouth open.

“I don’t want your stupid cheap alcohol!” Why… You rolled your eyes, turning away from the door, Why! “Or your pig!” Why are you saying these things? “Just go! Away!” Your chest was filled with an abnormal pressure as you threw the blanket over your head, water brimming your eyes. You muffled the sobs into your pillow.  Why are you feeling like this?

Angel and Husk left defeatedly, entering the lobby similar to how Vaggie and Charlie did the first time. Husk went behind the bar, not wanting to talk and Angel laid down on the red couch. 

“Well?” Charlie almost knew the answer already but hoped for something better. 

“Got nothing.” Angel moped. “Bribed ‘em with Nuggets and booze.” He turned to look at the group. “Nothing’ll work if we can’t get passed the door.” 

“Then we must bring the show inside!” The radioed voice was cascading throughout the room as he appeared in the lounge area. Taking a seat in one of the chairs, he crossed his legs. “Sometimes a little jazz is all you need to reignite the light.” 

“Oh no! No, no, no!” Vaggie was quick to stand in, “We can’t just invade their privacy!” She turned to the group. “I care for Y/N as much as all of you, but sometimes you need to respect them wanting space.”

“But aren’t you two the oness telling uss to be there for our friendss?” Pentious asked. “How can we comfort them by giving them sspace?”

“It’s called boundaries.” Her hands assisted the assertion of her words.

“Uh, Yeah, boundaries.” Angel mocked, “Smiles is gone by the way.” He pointed to the now empty seat as everyone snapped their heads to it. Vaggie slapped her hands to her face, letting out a frustrated groan. 

Charlie nervously laughed before clasping her hands together. “Oh no.”

Alastor rose from murky obsidian shadows, revealing his everlasting sinister grin. His eyes slid over to the bed, brow raised once he saw a cluster of blankets. He spun his mic, walking over and waving his hand. The unused fireplace was suddenly lit and crackling, causing you to jolt. 

“The fuck–?”

“Why Hello!” The sudden radioed cadence was all you needed to hear. You rolled your eyes. “Closing away like this is no way to present yourself!” He leaned forward. You noticed the soft soothing trill of jazz in the background, no doubt brought on by the man beyond your blanket barrier. “Where’s the joy in being locked away in this room?”

“Will you just–” You hastily uncovered yourself and sat up. “Get out!” The glow of the flames flickered against your skin as you sought out the intruder. 

“Don’t you look swell!” His incessant grin was accompanied with an overt blink. You groaned, forcefully lying back down in a huff against your pillow. Glared glued to the ceiling.

“Why can’t anyone understand that I want to be left alone!” 

Alastor walked over to the fire, a chair and an end table appeared with a cup of coffee. He took a seat and grabbed his cup. “Why be alone when there’s so much to do outside!” 

You released a heavy sigh. “What’s the point…” Your voice came out in a strained whisper. Throat knotting as you struggled to swallow away your swollen tongue. 

Al took a sip from his mug, “My my, what a depressing thing you are! I’m nearly getting flashbacks.” 

“Alastor…” You felt your eyebrow twitch, “With every single drop of the draining patience I have left. Get. The fuck. Out.” 

Your words had zero effect on him, “But I’m here to help, my friend!”

“Oh please.” You scoffed, shaking your head. “You’re saying you’re here because you care?”

He laughed, “Oh dear, no!” He set his drink down and stood up, “Being a witness to you drowning in your sorrows is quite entertaining.”

You turned your head to look at him, “Then why are you here?”

“I’m merely a parrot to our constituents! The worry over your newfound reclusion has become the talk of the town! I wanted to see it for myself.” He walked closer. “But by all means, continue your isolation! Watching the others scurry about with concern and become defeated time after time again is delightful! It’s not as if it’s hurting anyone…” His eyes slid towards you, his smile filtering to that of a smirk. “Including yourself.” He melded into the floor, the fire and music extinguishing with his exit. 

Now alone in the thickened darkness, the silence of your own thoughts gnawing into the corners of your mind. Hurting. Were you really hurting them? That wasn’t anything close to what you wanted. Staying in your room. Locked away. That was supposed to be the solution until you felt better. Somewhat better. Just… Different than how you were feeling now. 

But the days don’t feel different at all. If anything, the mucky feeling only cemented itself further within your chest. You felt it begin to sink, the thought of everyone trying to break through to you brought that welling feeling back. And you just yelled at them. You yelled at the only people trying to show you kindness.

The tears pooled over the edge, racing down your face. Everything released from within, the melancholic storm brewed over the past few days erupted. Your thunderous cries echoed throughout the dark room. 

After a few more whales you finally simmered down to a low whine, taking deep breaths to relieve yourself. It wasn’t a cure-all but you were finally able to gain some bearings. You grabbed your blanket and stood up, wrapping it around your figure. That damn radio head may have had a point after all. You released another long-winded breath and began making your way to your door.

The hallway walls were a sight for sore eyes, you pupils dilating as soon as you stepped out of your room. The heavy feeling in your lungs felt like it was building once again as you journeyed to the lobby. What would you say to them? Would they even want to talk to you? You stopped walking. What if they’re mad at you? You closed your eyes, shaking your head before continuing. You committed to this. No backing out now.

You finally made it to the top of the stairs that descended into the lobby. The blanket around your body felt like it was nearly constricting you with how tight you had it pulled. You sniffled quietly, eyes scanning the area and finally seeing them crowded around the old TV for movie night. 

Shuffling closer, you found that watching your feet take each small step closer made you less scared to address them. As soon as Vaggie caught sight of you, she paused the movie, elbowing Charlie and nodding towards you. Everyone soon followed her line of sight.

The silence signaled it was finally time to say something. An overwhelming heat pulsed throughout your body, ending within your cheeks.

“I…” the tears began bubbling the rim of your eyes. “I don’t know why I said those things. I don’t k-know why I’m feeling like this. I just feel… I feel sad, and I don’t know why!” Everything broke once again, large drops cascading down your cheeks endlessly as you began to cry. You used your blanket to wipe away the trails.

Charlie and Angel stood up immediately, coming to your side and embracing you. “It’s okay, Y/N.” The blonde softly consoled. “You don’t have to be happy all the time! And you never need a reason to be sad.”

“Sometimes, we just feel sad. And that’s okay.” Angel spoke, his voice mellow and comforting.  “Just share the sadness with us so you’re not alone, okay?”

“Yeah, and we’re always going to be here for you.” Vaggie stood and took a few steps closer.

“Come now,” Alastor gestured with his hand. “Join us while we continue watching this terrible picture show!”

“Yess! Come, come.” Pentious patted the middle seat of the couch as everyone awaited your answer. 

A surge of warmth blossomed throughout your body as you stared at them. Ever so gently, your lips pulled upward as you slowly nodded. They returned it before directing you to sit. Angel sat on the other side of you while Charlie returned to sit down with Vaggie and Niffty.

Pentious bent down to the ground and scooped up three of his egg boys and held them close. He leaned over to you, holding one out as an offer. Simon, the egg boy, opened his arms up towards you, awaiting to be held. You gently cradled him against you and smiled.

“This feels much better.” Charlie hummed, cuddled up with Vaggie. Your head fell onto Angel’s shoulder as you released a sigh. Even though you aren’t feeling a hundred percent all the time, at least you're surrounded by those who care about you. 

A beamy eye popped into your line of sight. “I made you this.” Niffty shot out her hand, a dead roach was disassembled and strung into a necklace. You flashed a strained smile. It really was the thought that counted.

“Thanks, Nifft.” She flitted back to her spot with a happy giggle and hearing it made you sigh in content. You glanced around the room, seeing everyone watching the movie.

Yeah, this really was much better.

likes and reblogs appreciated !! ♡

[revasserium]

A request for Zayne with the prompt, "a note on public health" 🙏🫶☺️

send me one + a character and i'll write u a drabble (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

32. a note on public health

zayne; 1,519 words; fluff, teeth-rotting fluff, fem!reader, no "y/n", zayne!branded humor, vague innuendos, established relationship

summary: a couple of public service announcements.

a/n: zayne cares much about your health ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧

001. sleep

For optimal health, one should get eight to ten hours of sleep per night.

You try to stifle a yawn as Zayne glances over the day’s news, projected onto the smooth white tabletop. He looks up, eyes narrowing as you freeze halfway through, attempting to mask the motion with a soft cough.

You reach for your half-finished coffee but Zayne tugs it away with a soft sigh.

“Didn’t sleep well last night?”

You purse your lips, averting your eyes as you reach for a slice of toast, tugging off a corner and stuffing it in your mouth.

“Would’ve slept better if someone hadn’t kept me up past my bedtime.”

This time, it’s Zayne who looks away, coughing as he sips at his own coffee.

“I made sure we finished at a reasonable hour.”

You jerk upright, eyes wide, mouth dropping open, a hot flush working its way into your cheeks. You wonder how he can keep such a straight face, how he looks so fundamentally unbothered. But then, he lets out a light chuckle.

“But you’re right — they say it’s not good to have strenuous exercise right before bed. I’ll be more careful next time.”

“Zayne!” you toss a crumpled bit of napkin at him, your heartbeat pounding at the back of your throat.

Zayne’s eyebrow flicks upward as he picks up the piece of tissue and gently lobs it into the trash can next to the kitchen counter before going back to this breakfast, the faintest hint of a smile shadowing his lips.

002. water

Adults over 19 should drink 1.5 to 2 liters of water a day for optimal health.

“Hello? What is it?”

“Hi! Uhm… where are you? I don’t — I don’t see you.”

“I’m… at home.”

“What? But… the app says you’ve arrived…”

Zayne sighs, “Did you dial the wrong number? This is Zayne.”

“…Oh! Oops.”

“Where are you? Have you been drinking?”

You hiccup, and he can almost see you shaking your head the way you do when you want to deny something you’d obviously been doing. He pushes up from the sofa, grabbing his coat.

“Not… not a lot — Tara just wanted to celebrate since —“ you hiccup again, “since it’s her first promotion, y’know?”

Zayne hums, “Mhm. Where are you?”

“No, no! It’s okay! I called a cab —“

“Cancel it. I’ll come get you.”

“But…”

“Cancel it. And send me your location.”

Thirteen minutes later, you’re climbing into the passenger seat of Zayne’s car with a sheepish smile.

“Sorry…”

“Don’t be. Here.”

You blink down at the bottle of water Zayne is pressing into your lap.

“Oh… thanks, but I had a lot of water at the bar!” You turn to flash him a bright, proud smile, “See? I do listen to you!”

Zayne laughs as he pulls into a stop light, glancing over at you, the bottle of water cradled between your hands.

“Yes, and I suppose you’re very proud of yourself this time?” there’s a teasing lilt to his voice that lets you know he’s not mad. Still, you scowl.

“Shouldn’t you be proud that your patient is getting better at taking care of herself?”

Zayne sighs, reaching over the tug the bottle from your hands before unscrewing the cap and handing it back to you.

“Drink.”

You look like you’re about to argue for a split second before you catch the sharp look in his eye and bring the bottle up to your lips for a long drink. Zayne allows himself a satisfied smile as he reaches over to give your knee a quick squeeze.

“Good. Good girl.”

003. sun

To maintain healthy blood levels, aim to get 10 - 30 minutes of midday sun, several days a week.

“It’s been raining for forever…”

Zayne looks up from the patient chart propped up in his lap.

You’re sprawled across the sofa on the other side of the room, staring at the bleary, rain-streaked windows with a dull, world-weary expression. Zayne’s eyes flick toward the window for a second before sliding up to the large clock above his door.

It’s three minutes till the end of the day, and he’d agreed you could wait for him in his office while he finished up.

“It has.” He drops his eyes back down to the chart in his hands. The patient is doing well — all things considered. He should keep them for another night of study before signing off to let him go home. Zayne punches in the quick note in for his nurses before setting the chart down.

“Weather forecast says it’s gonna rain all through the weekend too.”

“Hm.” Zayne gets up, rolling his shoulders loose of the knots that had gathered there before rounding his desk, “Come on then.”

“Oh! Are you done? Are we… going to get dinner?” You jump up from the sofa, seemingly revived, a smile on your face. Zayne regards you for a moment before turning.

“Not yet.”

“Not… yet?” you trail after him as he shrugs on his coat and locks his office door.

He can feel your curiosity bubbling for the entire walk to his car through the vast parking garage. He allows himself a smile as you slide in and look at him expectantly. For a second, he toys with the idea of not telling you, of seeing just how long you can hold out before you start to pester him.

“You’ll see,” he says, just as you open your mouth to ask.

“So… it’s a surprise?” you ask.

He shrugs, pulling out of the parking space and cresting through the dimly lit parking structure till he turns onto the bustling city street.

“I suppose it will be.”

“Did you… plan this?” he can hear the hopefulness in your voice, the giddiness sparkling there like soda fizz.

“No, but did you say I should try to be more spontaneous sometimes?”

“Sure but…” he can hear you pouting, “well, fine, if you really don’t want to tell me.”

He keeps quiet just to savor in the silence, in the knowledge that you are here with him, and so, so eager to know what he has planned for you. He wonders if it’s cruel to enjoy this, to love the way you’re so reactive, to love… everything about you.

You blink as he pulls into a darkened road, wide as it is, to the clearly gated Botanical Gardens. Your confusion only grows as the night guard there gives him a cheery wave before punching a button and the giant gates hiss open to allow you both entry.

“Thanks,” Zayne says, lifting a hand as the night guard waves them through with a bright smile.

He casts you a single glance before chuckling, “His daughter was a patient of mine a while back — she had a genetic cardiac condition that — well,” Zayne breaks off as he parks the car in the first space and opens the door.

“Regardless, she needed surgery. It was risky but… we managed to save her.”

He leads you down the winding path to one of the smaller greenhouses, lit up so brightly from the inside that you have to squint your eyes as he punches in an access code and lets you both through the door.

The wall of heat that greets you both nearly knocks you off your feet but a moment later, you smile as the warmth seeps into your skin, and you turn your face up towards the high ceilings, speckled with what you’re certain are tiny little sunlamps, beaming down at the arid landscape below.

“Are these… cacti?” you wonder aloud, shuffling over to a large, bulbous plant with long thin spikes.

“Yes, these are the desert plants. They need prolonged exposure to sunlight to live.”

“Oh…” you bend down to read the short description of the cacti before moving onto the next one, and then the next one. Zayne trails behind you, watching with a soft smile and softer eyes as you point out the tiny little yellow flowers budding on one, and the strange shapes of another.

“Not that this isn’t fun and all but…” you turn to him as you finally return to the front of the greenhouse, having seen all the different varieties of desert plants in this particular area, “why’d you bring me here?”

Zayne holds open the door for you.

“You looked like you were missing the sun.”

Even beneath the barely there lighting of the parking lot, Zayne sees your blush darkening your cheeks.

“I — I guess I was,” you say as you slip once more into the passenger seat of his car, looking over at him, “but… weren’t you missing it too?”

Zayne’s grin skews as he tugs on his seatbelt, but he schools his expression back into its usual mask of stoicism as he answers, “No. I’ve already got you.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Drabble Roulette: Andy - Public Sex

Hey hey! This weekend (July 6 -7) I’m going to be playing drabble roulette! I’ve curated a list of characters, tropes, AUs, and kinks and I’m spinning the wheel! Hopefully I can do this once a month as a little writing exercise.

Character: Andy Barber

Warnings: this drabble includes noncon, cheating, public sex. Please mind these warnings and take care.

Explicit, 18+.

You yawn as you hang your towel over the bar. Work trips are exhausting. You have even less time yourself and with it goes all your energy. In those few hours you have, you try to enjoy them. 

You’re over reading. Too stagnant. So, you finally decide to venture down to the hotel pool and swim a few laps. They’ll tire you out enough to fall asleep and get some of the kinks out from those uncomfortable conference room chairs. 

Thankfully, you’re the only one who got the idea. It’s offseason for most hotels. Kids are in school, parents are stuck in offices, and only those on the road take up the vacancies. You bask in the solace as you sit on the edge and dangle your legs into the water. 

You slide down slowly, adjusting to the temperature little by little. You walk deeper into the pool, dipping down so your shoulders are beneath the surface. You spread your arms and take a breath. You put your head under and pull through the water with your arms, kicking to propel yourself further. 

You lose yourself in the familiar motions. You touch one end, bob up, take a breath, and turn back the other direction. Back and forth, back and forth.  

You latch onto the lip of the pool to steady yourself. You cling to it to keep from sinking under as you paddle at the deep end. The chlorine dries your nose hotly. 

“Long day?” A voice echoes in the airy empty space. 

You didn’t notice the man. He’s still dry as he stands at the other end of the pool. Your fun is spoiled. You won’t go, you’ll just have to share. 

“Mmhm,” you hum back. 

He walks along the edge, eyeing the water. You think you recognise him. He might be one of the faces you passed at the continental breakfast bar that morning. You see so many it’s hard to remember. 

He’s tall and his shoulders and arms are rounded with muscles. He wears black shorts and turns to face you, showing off a lined stomach and buff chest. You plunge back under and start another set of laps. When you take another break, he’s doing the same, arms cutting up and under. He’s faster than you. 

He passes so close you feel the water move. You quickly make distance as you fall into another cycle; shallow to deep, shallow to deep. When you come again, you can’t spot him. You don’t look very hard. He doesn’t matter. 

You veer off to the side of the pool and hook your arms over the edge, crossing them as you hang from the tile. You lower your head and even out your breathing. You are suitably tired. 

Before you can lift yourself up and over, the water splashes behind you. The man grips the slightly raised lip on either side of you and raises himself up. He crushes you against the side as he does. 

“Woah, what the--” 

“Work trips are lonely, huh?” He grits as he nuzzles your crown. “Nice to unwind?” 

“What are you doing, you creep?” 

“Shh,” he hushes you and surprises you as he loops his thick arm around your neck, “don’t wanna draw too much attention.” 

“Hey, you--” He flexes until you can’t speak. 

“Come on. Two strangers, passing in the night...” 

You pull on his forearm and kick your legs. He pushes into you, grinding his pelvis against yours. Where your toes barely touch, he has his feet planted flat. 

“No rules on the road,” he purrs along your ear.  

You tug on his arm harder, “get off--” 

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he pulls his other hand from the pool, the glint of gold on his finger flashing in your vision. He feels along your side as he crowds you against the tile. “I won’t tell anyone if you don’t.” 

You whimper as his hand tickles along your stomach and his fingers creep along the top of your bikini. You push your elbow back and he grunts. He's not deterred. You dig your nails into his wrist. 

“I’ll scream--” 

He tightens his arm again and tuts, “you’ll be begging for more."

He snarls and shoves his hand down your bikini. You puff out desperately and wriggle, unable to free yourself of his grasp. You should have just stayed in your room and finished the damn book. 

[dolicekiss]

Good afternoon/morning!

If you are still taking requests, I'd love to ask if you could maybe do a yandere Hannibal x reader (female if that would be okay) one-shot where the reader is one of Hannibals favourite patients (maybe shes a writer who gets alot of nightmares or something).

However, during one of their sessions, she reveals that she is withdrawing as she is moving back to Europe (this obvi messes up whatever plans Hannibal had for her). Perhaps she is moving away because she has realised how dangerous Hannibal really is and does not want to get involved.

It would be interesting to see how you would interpret Hannibals' thoughts, feelings, and next plan of action after hearing such daunting news.

Thank you <3

♡: i hope i did this justice

Shattered Dreams

PAIRING: Yandere!Hannibal X Patient!Reader

CONTENT WARNING: yandere hannibal, implied stalking, coercion, manipulation, mention of death, trauma, nightmares, mind games, mention of blood

Draped in a beautiful silk dress, a cashmere coat over your shoulders, your presence was loud and evident in Hannibal Lecter’s office.

You reminded him of him.

Charming, sophisticated, beautiful and completely enthralling. He knew somewhere he was too similar to you and that resonated with him. An attachment had already formed, an ethical sort of attachment which could put his career into danger

Yet he found himself not caring.

His main focus was you.

He often found himself imagining you by his side, as his other half. His soulmate, the only one for him and solely the mere imagination pleased him but it worked to increase his hunger too.

Anytime a patient other than you would show up, he'd have a scowl on his face and tend to their needs like he was being held at gun point.

But when you'd come.

It was like fucking spring had arrived in his office. Flowers blooming, radiance everywhere and even your scent was sweet like floral.

Here you were, once more in his office to converse about the demons that haunted you. Hannibal was the best at his job, too good but deep down, you'd already caught whiff of the danger that he was and could amount to.

He scared you.

No matter how many sweet smiles he'd sent you, the amount of terms of endearment he'd use to address to you — none of it concealed the monstrosity he harbored inside him. You'd captured it and now you were in a dilemma.

Whether to leave or tell the law enforcement.

You inhaled sharply and then slowly exhaled, a breathing exercise Hannibal had taught you to help you regulate your breathing.

“Everything alright, miss?” His gruff voice pulled you back into reality and you nodded your head quickly, not wanting him to know that you knew about his depraved instincts.

You smiled softly. “Yes.”

“Did you have nightmares again?”

“Yes.” You responded truthfully. “It does not matter how many books I write, how many characters I kill, there seems to be no end to these nightmares.”

Your nightmares stemmed from an accident you'd faced as a child. The only survivor were you, the only kin left while the rest of your family had died. Right before your very gaze.

It did not matter how much sleeping pills you took or how much coffee you drank. As soon as you'd fall into a slumber, the haunting eyes of your deceased mother would always stare back at you — lifeless and soulless.

And no matter how many times you dreamed of the bloody incident, you did not find yourself forgetting about them. You wanted to forget it, blur out the faces of your famo members but as each day passed by, it only grew more vivid and clear.

Its like your brain was working in reverse.

“Have you tried what I asked you to do?”

You looked up at him.

There it was, that smile of his.

It had nearly worked to trap you.

But you caught onto the danger looming beneath him. You were no foreigner to danger and Hannibal Lecter was a blood thirsty man who killed, killed and savored. You had no desire to end up as his meal. Or buffet.

“I need to tell you something.”

When you'd uttered those words out, Hannibal could already sense something wasn't right. You didn't appear as your usual self. You were rather, chatty and spoke to him about your problems. Worked together as a team to cure this plague that had jeopardized your sleep.

But today you were different.

Quiet, reserved, hands stable and placed over your knees.

Hannibal gestured for you to go ahead.

“I have decided to move to Europe.” You broke the news with a deep breath. Fingers bending and nails grazing across the fabric of your dress.

Hannibal tilted his head in confusion.

Akin to a puppy.

He didn't see any problem with your sessions nor did he find you troublesome. He was sure you also liked him, as your therapist but you did. There was some sort of fondness, between the two of you. There had to be. You were his favorite, you'd become a part of him without even realizing or intending to do so and now you wanted to leave?

Leave him?

There was not a corner in the world made for you to hide from him. Anywhere you'd go, he would find you.

Hannibal blinked, the darkness within him clawing at him, clawing for you. Commanding him over and over again to offer you drugged wine and take you so you wouldn't leave for Europe.

He put on a polite smile, hoping that would veil the darkness in him. “May I ask why?”

Your lips shuddered. “For a change. I think moving away from here would be better since my whole family died here, maybe the nightmares will stop occurring.”

Those nightmares might stop occurring but the nightmare Hannibal was about to become wouldn't stop.

You noticed the subtle change in his gaze and shifted in your seat, uncomfortable and uneasy.

Hannibal nodded, feigning understanding but he was all over the place. Everything was under his control — every damn thing since the beginning. How did he begin to lose control? There was absolutely no way he could let you move to Europe, let you get far away from him where he can't bask in the vision of you.

He would go to the ends of the Earth just to catch a mere glimpse of you.

He had to coax you out of this. Use coercion into making you stay here for the rest of your life.

Hannibal had plans for you.

Big plans.

He was going to make you his, bring you closer to him, unveil a part of him that no one had ever seen before.

He'll he'd fucking told you about Mischa today and no one knew about her. He had shown you parts of him no one had seen and now you were going to abandon him? Take those parts of him witj you and leave him empty, fucking lonely and abandoned?

Oh Hannibal was not going to let that happen.

He nearly felt angry.

Rage bubbling up inside him but he controlled it, calming it down.

“You have a life here, miss. A proper life; friends, colleagues, relatives. Don't you think abandoning it all would be a bit too extreme and intense, even for you?”

You bit on your lower lip.

In a way he was right.

Your whole life you had lived it here. Friends, closest of closest, relatives — the only blood relation left after the demise of your own and colleagues. It was all too difficult to leave them behind but fear was a tool which worked to push people to do things they never would've even thought about.

You swallowed. “I know, Doctor Lecter but these nightmares haunt me. These memories do not disappear, so it is better that I leave.”

Hannibal started to play with his hands.

They sat comfortably over his knees and all he could do was toss and turn his fingers, scratch his palm, the only way to actually show the unbridled emotion he was overwhelmed with. Yet his face carried a sweet smile like he was completely happy and supportive of your decision.

Hannibal saw how your lips shuddered when you spoke. They often shuddered when you'd lie in the beginning about your feelings, about how you did not miss your deceased family one bit.

He wondered if you were lying.

His own fingers tracing along his lips.

“Have you thought about where you'd go to? I mean, Europe is a vast place.” Hannibal commented and you swallowed, in a dilemma whether you should reveal your whereabouts or not.

It was a country.

A huge country.

He couldn't actually find you there, right?

“France.” You said, with a subtle smile on your face.

You wanted to get out of your comfortable seat, go home, pack your bags, board the plane and never look back. The man sitting before you was a killer, a cannibalistic serial killer and you didn't allow that to sink it at all in his presence.

Afraid your demeanor would break.

It would shatter and he'd capture you.

Hannibal grinned.

That was all he needed.

“Marseille is a beautiful city.” Hannibal said while his hawk like gaze analyzed your facial expressions.

Nothing.

You nodded in agreement. “So I've heard.”

“And Lyon too. I've been there.” He said, standing up from his couch and moving over to stand by his wooden desk. When he mentioned Lyon, not a single crease formed on your face nor did your lips shiver.

So it wasn't Lyon either.

Hannibal was viciously smart and he was going to find the city you were going to settle in sooner or later. “Nice has beautiful art. You should go there too.”

Your face scrunched up.

Hannibal caught that. The little crease of discomfort forming in your forehead and a feeling of satisfaction spread in his insides.

You were moving there.

“I think I should go now, Doctor Lecter.” You said, standing up when you realized your session had ended a long time ago.

This was the last session you'd ever share with him.

Hannibal walked towards you, hand extended out. “It was nice having you as my patient, sweetheart. Hopefully your nightmares will slowly disappear with time.”

Even though it was a goodbye, it did not feel like it.

Your gaze dropped down to his hand and you nodded, taking his hand and shaking it. His hold grew a little firm but you didn't say anything, slowly releasing his hand and retrieving it. “Thank you, Doctor Lecter. For all your help.”

He grinned as he watched you turn around and leave his office.

This was not going to be the last time you'll see of the man and he'll make sure of that.

Hannibal licked his lips. The sound of the door shutting putting a crack in his heart — his chest aching for a glimpse of you but he knew this wasn't the end. There was more, with him, there was always more.

You could not escape this easily.

— ♡ —

Months had passed.

You were still adjusting your life in this new country, surrounded by new people who speak a completely different language but you were still learning.

Your nightmares had deceased greatly by spending time in a foreign country and in a way, you were thankful for Hannibal. Because of him you'd abandoned your birth place — which honestly plagued you.

There was nothing left for you there.

Only bad memories and horrific nightmares.

You'd forgotten about nearly everything in that country except a certain blonde; Hannibal Lecter.

He still haunted you.

After that last session, you never possibly heard from him ever again. You met a man too, who claimed to have feelings for you but the next day he was reported for bad behavior against women. They had removed him from your workplace.

You felt a little sad that a man like that had shown interest in you.

Still, life was getting better and better.

You were still writing and had signed a deal with a new publishing house but other than that, you gave lectures at a university for your own knowledge and sake.

Your life felt like it had finally fallen into place.

“They have a new lecturer, have you seen him?” A female colleague asked and you looked up at her from your laptop. You shook your head.

The woman smiled. “Well, he'll be here soon. He's done PHD and has a masters degree too.”

You blinked a little but then went back to typing on your laptop, finishing the last chapter of your book. Break was finished after a few minutes but this time instead of heading back to your class, you were told to head to the office and give the new lecturer a tour.

Apparently he was a big deal, someone who had studied the human mind through and through.

You made your way to the office, opening the door with a smile. The dean sat there but the familiar mop of blonde slicked back hair caught your attention more — your fingers tightening around the metal hold of the door.

He turned around and with a smile, greeted you. “Hello, sweetheart.”

Hannibal was in Nice, in your university, as a lecturer.

Your face went pale.

Was there truly no escape from him?

[hazbinhazmeinachokehold]

The hotel gang + overlord!reader part 2

Part one here

!Not beta read!

While it may just be the stress talking, the bed was surprisingly comfortable, for a hotel at least. Today was a lot. Even if this hotel seemed to be a net positive it was still a lot. So the comfortable bed made it seem like you already made it to heaven. As you sank into the bed you drifted off to sleep.

You awoke to a few loud and powerful knocks on your door. "Hello? If you're awake we are going to do some trust exercises!" Charlie called out. You unintentionally groaned as you got up.

"Give me a minute!" You replied.

"Okay." Charlie said as she left. When you got up you looked at yourself in the mirror. You weren't a mess by any means but you've definitely looked better. You freshen yourself up slightly before going downstairs.

The Hotel residents and staff were all in a circle. You sat down in one of the gaps in the circle. Charlie cleared her throat.

"Okay everybody let's go around in a circle and say our names first! I'm Charlie." She paused, "As you all know." Everyone else proceeded to say their name, which you already knew everyone's name. Excluding the short one-eyed girl, Niffty, and the girl with an x over one of her eyes, Vaggie. Then your turn came.

"Uh- Hi! My name is y/n" You cringed at the nervousness in your voice.

"Now I want everyone to tell a fact about themself. It doesn't have to be anything huge, just something to get to know each other." Charlie said, "I love musicals!" Yeah, that was pretty easy to guess.

Angel was next up. "I love sitting on big, HUGE-"

"Angel I fucking swear." Husk cut him off.

"Comfortable chairs! What were you thinking?" Angel had a smug smile plastered on his face. "Also cocks as well." He added. Husk and Vaggie groaned.

Niffty went next, but Charlie spoke before her, "Please try not to scare away our newest member." She pleaded. Niffty pouted but compiled anyway.

"I love writing fanfiction! Escapily with bad boys." Her tone turned slightly seductive at the end. You elected to ignore that.

There was a silence as everyone waited for Vaggie. Charlie stretched her palm out to tell her to talk. "Oh- yeah right sorry." She shook her head slightly, "I like to dance."

"Really!? How come I never knew that?" Charlie asked.

"It never came up." Vaggie smiled faintly

"I'm the bartender," Husk grumbled. Vaggie elbowed him. "What? I told a fact about myself."

Alastor let out an "ahem" noise. The focus shifted to him. "While this is a fact in general, I believe that radio is the utmost form of medium." As baseline as this was for a guy such as Alastor, you also kind of expected it. Alastor would not let anything deeper about himself slip. So why not go for the most well-known part of yourself. "Now, y/n, darling I do believe it is your turn."

Oh shit right. You've just met these people so don't go with anything personal. Also, make sure it doesn't make anyone uncomfortable. “I really don’t like being an overlord.” Your mouth moved before you could comprehend what you were saying. Well fuck. If this was a TV show you’d clearly be the comic relief, at least right now. Everyone but Alastor and Niffty had some form of uncomfortable plastered on their face. Alastor however had a curious yet sinister smile on his face. Niffty wasn’t really paying attention to you, she was chasing some random cockroach. 

You wanted to go back on that statement but something was saving you from embarrassing yourself further. Do demons have guardian angels? If so, yours was working overtime right now. But they also weren’t getting much work done.

Your real savior was whoever blew the fucking wall up. Everyone's head was quickly aimed at the now missing wall. While Husk just accepted it everyone else, including yourself, to find the source. Like you were in some sort of horror movie character getting ready to be stabbed. But you instead met with a huge mechanical blimp that had an impractical amount of guns.

“There you are!” The person in the blimp called out. It was very hard to hear but it was just loud enough. “Alastor, are you ready to be beat-”

“Who is this?’ 

“Who- Who am I!?” The voice was very clearly offended at Alastor's lack of knowledge. You just drowned the rest out. Alastor was cruel and frankly heartless. But he also did not like wasting time. So even while this poor sinner's fate was sealed, thankfully it wouldn’t be as drawn out as his past victims. You turned around to hopefully save any shred of innocence you were able to save. As you entered through the wall you could hear both Alastor and his victim speak.

“Thank you for another forgetful experience!” Alastor said. You didn’t necessarily

want to look but you did so anyway. Kind of like watching a car crash.

“Thank you…” the snake struggled to get out, “ For letting your guard down!” He ripped part of Alastors coat off. Well, that's not good, for anyone really. Alastor’s coat got torn and this sinner is about to die again. Or at the very least get seriously injured. You’re honestly surprised he lasted this long. He was notably weaker than The Radio Demon’s usual opponents. 

He, quite appropriately, said “Oh shit-” Before an explosion (you can only guess caused by Alastor) caused him to fly away. Welp, he’s gone forever now. The hotel seemed nice for the most part. It honestly still does. You just wish you weren’t staying in the same house as The Radio Demon. But now that you think about it, almost everyone here seems to have something severely wrong with them. And that includes you too. So at least you fit in.

[pedge-page]

You know how Romana recently did a fic where guarddog!Joel met puppy!reader? Would you ever do a little drabble where himbo!Joel meets plushie!reader? 🥹💖

I love Guard!Dog and PuppyReader from @romana-after-dark !!!! And I know exactly what you are talking about (because I may have been the anon who requested it 🫢.)

Here we go!

Plush-Bo: Himbo!Joel x Plushies!Reader Crossover

Warnings: im writing this at work on my phone and mentally cannot compute. There's sex. Inappropriate stuff. Language. MOMMY. Plushies. Oral. The weird ass freaky shit you expect from me.

Notes: Everything is written in 3rd person to not confuse reader!characters. plushies!Reader, Himbo!Joel/Himbo, plushies!Joel, and Mommy/Himbo Joel's reader.

18+ ONLY

- - - -

Himbo!Joel would be rutting into her like a rabbit In heat. Exactly how Plushies!Reader likes it, the horny little fucks they are.

"Mommy," he gasps, his voice wrecked. "Mommy Shes so...so s-soft--uuggghhaaaahhhh!" He buries his face into plushies!reader hair to cover his groan.

Pleasure fills his stomach, twisting in ways he's not quite used to. Having something so so so incredible sweet, cottony and pliant, from the scent of her shampoo to the silken draw of her skin. Stuffed animals toppling all over only further the stimulation. Soft,soft,soft, all of her softness tickles his brain in just the right way to have him pounding her sopping pussy deep, flush into the matress with no intuition to slow down.

"Yeah? You like soft things?" Himbo's Mommy coos, stroking his sweaty locks that are covering his beautiful eyes from all that exercise.

He hums with a shy nod. "Not as much as Mommy's pussy--!"

She laugh. "Its okay, it's okay to like other things. Especially something as soft as this." She glides her knuckles across plushies!reader skin, admiring the glow. Especially how himbo!Joel doesn't know what to do with all that softness. All delicate to the touch, when he likes to get his nails in and mark up his Mommy, unintentionally of course. He can't hold back most times. But this? Its laughable how much he just doesn't know what to do with himself except fuck like it's his only directive in life.

Plushies!Reader can barely see straight. Though her Joel is a rough fuck, he's pretty calculated about his sex. But this? Himbo is driving into her at such an incessant, sloppy, high energy rate that her vision is blurring in the back of her skill. She's unable to do anything but drool and moan into the sheets.

It's shocking when he finally howls he's gonna cum, despite plushies!reader had already done so 12 times.

"I-inside!" she squeaks from below. His hands are etched into her pretty hips with his body draped over , low hanging tummy smashed against the curve of her back.

"I-ca-cant" he huffs, managing to pull free of her sweet, dripping pussy. He grips the base of his cock harshly to edge himself. "My cum is only for Mommy." He smirks over to her. "We're gonna breed and have another baby soon."

"How adorable!" Plushies gal beams, catching her breath and hugging her stuffed badger in her arms to cool her heart rate. "Joel. When are you gonna put a baby in me?"

Plushies!Joel wipes the precum from his leaking cock on his jeans. "When ya get on that teddy and show me what a good breeding slut you can be."

Plushies!Reader guides Himbo!Joel excitedly to show off her giant Teddy Plushie. She knows a humper when she sees one.  Despite the tough activity, both of them are immediately ready for more cums.

Mounting Teddy's Face with her messy cunt, Himbo!Joel straddles it's lower belly. He whimpers when he cock is suffocated by a wave of cottony fluff.

"Isn't he nice?" She hums, rolling her hips into the button nose of Teddy. She gasps, doing it again to catch her Plushies!Joel ramping up his pervertedness and jerking off to the scene before him.

Himbo!Joel nods, wide eyed and smiling below. God. Everything in this ROOM is soft and cuddly and humpable and...

Plushies!gal giggles and leans forward to kiss Himbo, and the two of them start rocking with spread legs on the shared Bear.

Himbo Joel hesitates for a moment, looking back towards his lady.

She nods encouragingly. "Go ahead! Have fun with your new toy. Mommy's pussy will be here when you need it."

He nods, tossing all worry out the window and fucking his cock against the Bear's crotch. Himbo can't help but sniff the remnants of Plushie!readers remnants pussy juices that seemed to have permanently permeated the stuffed Teddy's fluff. His balls ache: sooooooo much softness he wants to make even prettier with his seed.

Eventually the two of them fall forward in a heap of panting, griding messes. With their cheek smashed into Teddy's chest, arms wrapped desperately around it's thick body,  they sloppily make our between breaths. Tightly drawn brows and sounds of endless cumming fills the walls of the Plushies room.

Mommy and Plushies!Joel sit back and watch their little horny babies have at it together.

Himbo!Joel cums, splattered and sticky between his and Teddy's Belly. He gasps when Plushie! reader leans forward with her tongue out, happily lapping at the creamy mess off Teddy's fur and then from Joel's slightly hairy tummy. He groans, covering his mouth and watching her work contently. So used to cleaning up his own mess from Mommy, he doesn't know how to react when someone else cleans his mess for him. It's OK if she's just eating his cum right? She won't get pregnant from that. Only Mommy can get pregnant from his precious cum. This is okay.

When Himbo Joel and Plushies reader are spent, they curling up against one another surrounded by her stuffies, steadily breathing in each breath and sleeping after an exhausting but fun day.

Mommy!reader quietly finishes swallowing Plushies!Joel's load from the corner of the room. He sighs heavily, closing his eyes in bliss.

"Got your dog on a pretty loose leash, huh Mommy?" He teases.

Like clockwork, the two of them switch places, with Joel on his knees in front of her spread legs. He wastes no time sucking her pearly clit, tongue darking between her folds.

"He's defensive. Probably would break your jaw right now if he saw."

Joel shrugs, kissing the inside of her thigh.

She twirls his hair between her fingers as he gets to work, staring at the bed. "She's pretty, though."

She feels him grin proudly between her pussy lips. "She is."

.While her Himbo!Joel isnt very skilled, he makes up for it in eagerness. Plushies!Joel on the other hand knows how to draw things out, speed it up, edge and push you over exactly when he desires it. She cums hard, shaking on his expert tongue.

He sucks the juices off his fingers and gestures towards the bed, where Himbo!Joel and Plushies!Reader snuggle in their warm nest.

"I wouldn't mind a play date again with them."

"I think that would be great for them."

- - - -

@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrsoharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee @cassiecasluciluce @loohoop @himboelover @callsignwidow @wintersquirrel

[foxconfessorandthewolf]

Okay, so I’m a bit wine drunk but I don’t think I’ve ever really articulated why I love Snarry together and I’m currently trying to finish a fic after taking a three-year-hiatus from writing these two, so this is probably a good exercise!

I’m a bit on the older side of fandom, having been a fanartist and fervent reader since 2003, so my connection was really sparked during that time between OOTP and HBP when Snape and Harry were at some of their most clashing and deeply vitriolic, forced together into hateful vulnerability by Occulmency lessons. Every scene between them was electric, laced with tension as we truly did not know how things would go, or even where Snape’s true loyalties lay. He was an unknown, tied up with Harry’s own family’s mysterious past, connected to Harry in a myriad of odd ways that few other characters were, and - as a rivals-to-lovers lover - I was fascinated by him. From that first moment when they lock eyes in the Great Hall and that frisson of pain shoots through Harry’s scar, I desperately wanted to know who the hell this man was and his story. I think a lot of Snarry shippers come to the ship with a special appreciation for Severus Snape’s character himself. He’s such an incredibly drawn character, rich with complexity, complicated and pretty fucked up, with clearly-held passions, hatreds, weaknesses, and motivations. He’s emotional in a way a lot of other characters aren’t, though I think he’d loathe to hear that. And his character voice! It’s unique and pitch-perfect. You always know exactly who is speaking with his lines. Honestly, the way he evolved from a spy/traitor stock character to become so multifaceted and enigmatic is a masterpiece of characterization, and it’s an aspect of why I’m drawn to him - there’s still so much about his origins and well, what his damage was, that we don’t know. Because of this, I especially love Snarry fics that delve into character studies of him, trying to explore all the shadows left behind. I also admit I have a preference for interpreting Snape as morally grey. I like him petty, sharp-tongued, ambitious, with an incredibly liquid definition of what is right and wrong. He’s self-interested, dripping with disdain, and really doesn’t see that as a problem. What happens to him when he deeply falls in love?

I love a ship that makes me work for it. There’s no obvious line of how Snape and Harry might wind up together, so each fic is a wealth of possibilities of bringing these two together despite their roadblocks. As I mentioned, I’m big fan of animosity in a ship. Give me rivals, give me enemies, give me the sparking passions, the sharp fury, the way they stoke each others’ emotions and seek to hurt, the racing hearts, the raised hackles, the intense emotional reaction to another person. Just throw it at me. I devour that shit. I love the messy and taboo nature of their relationship, the complications raising from their age difference, temperaments, and largely similar and shared traumas. There’s an interesting element of Snape being a foil to James Potter, and how that relates to Harry and their past. Basically, this shit is really good potting soil for incredible fucking fics, packed with nutrients.

The shared natures of their traumas, like Voldemort and each being forgotten and abused as children and how they might be able to understand each other and bond from it is also something that’s fascinating to explore. I love when a writer pushes on Snape’s bruises, looking to make them hurt, cracking his sardonic brain open and rooting around in there, and I love when they compare and contrast to Harry’s. There’s a seductiveness to how Snape is so obsessed with Harry, fixated on his Boy Who Lived heroic reputation, clearly dripping with envy. What, beyond jealousy, might draw Snape to Harry and what, other than hatred, might draw Harry to Snape?

It’s all this, the passionate, electric, dangerous nature of their relationship; the way their characters contrast each other yet have surprising connections; and the question of finding solace that keeps me here, 21 years later. I’ve had wines less complex than this ship. They’re fascinating. They’re messy. They’re everything.

[crossposted from a reddit comment I just left, and wanted to share with y’all]

[hystericstar]

maybe a headcanon or two for each link + sidon and how they do aftercare? I know it's not explicit but is still nsfw related, right? ;w;

Yeah, in my book it is! Just very soft :)

! MDNI !

𐂅 Twilight princess link 𐂅

9/10 times you’re gonna end up really sore, so he remedies that for you by giving the best massages you’ve ever had

Rough, calloused hands rubbing your back was something you never knew you needed till now

has a whole conversation with you

asking about your day, if you felt okay, etc.

goes into golden retriever mode as if you don’t limp when you walk

“ I couldn’t be happier your day went well darlin’. As for me, just your smile makes me forget anything else even exists.”

༆ Skyward sword link ༆

bath time!!!

Carries you to the bathroom and has you sit in the warm water while he changes the soiled bedsheets

he joins you when he’s done and y’all bathe together

his favorite thing is to brush your hair while humming

your’e always out like a light within minutes

idk why I just feel like he has the voice of an angel

“ Are you comfy enough? Let me know if I pull too hard on your hair, okay? Is there anything in particular you want me to sing for you dove?”

ᘏ Botw/Totk link ᘎ

Cleans you up, leaves, and then comes back with a tray full of munchies

you guys spend like half an hour praising each other

and then another half is just you happily listening to him tell stories of his chaotic adventures

a tickle fight may or may not be involved

“no matter how hard the battle was, it’d do it all again if it meant I’d get to have you look in my direction.”

𝄞 Ocarina of time link 𝄞

Gently holds you and takes a moment to just press his forehead against yours, admiring every aspect of you

starts gently making out with you cause he just loves you so much he physically can’t contain it

he’ll hold you for as long as you let him, face buried in your neck the whole time

holds your hand too cause he’s soft and if you disagree then you’re wrong

“you are my sun, sky, and earth. I am nothing without you.”

➳ Hyrule warriors link ➳

“I want you to breathe in and out for me, kay?”

bro performs a whole wellness check

“ I wasn’t too rough on you, was I?”

”thank you for allowing me the honor to pleasure you m’lady.”

don’t ask me why but I feel like he calls you that

actually it’s cannon Zelda just told me herself

anyways-

gentlemanly but can’t help tease you for that blissed out look in your eye

teaches you stretches to ease any kind of pain and exercises to help you catch your breath

ᖫ The fierce deity ᖭ

Asks you if you enjoyed it

wants to know if you did or didn’t like anything he did in particular

after all, he vowed he would serve you the moment he laid eyes on you

what kind of deity would he be if he couldn’t make his darling little human feel good?

“ I will do everything in my power to grant your every wish. I’d forge you jewelry made of the stars should you say the word.”

🜲 Sidon 🜲

Yk how I said twi would have golden retriever energy after?

yeah, scratch that

he is nothing compared to fish man

immediately sprints outside to get you some fresh zora spring water

don’t worry, he purified it like 5 times so that water is clean

you swear you can almost see the fin on his head wagging-

“are you hungry? Comfortable? Cold?”

eventually, he asks if you want to go for a swim

takes you to a private pond and lets ride on his back, or, if you’d prefer, you lay on his chest while he just floats along.

~《☆♡•°•°♡☆》~

done 😩

it was so fun adding in little text lines for them. Writing lines for characters is so fun istg

thank you for requesting!

[megs-mostly-past-random-fandoms]

Don't Over-Do It

Based on this request: Could you write a fluffy imagine for the Volturi with the reader being Marcus descendant, Aros mate and Janes best friend? The reader tends to overwork both in her job and by working out. The Volturis are far to protective to let her continue like that.

Here you are, lovely! *Familiar Characters are NEVER mine.*

Fandom: Twilight

Warnings: mentions of passing out and forgetting to eat. Some light fluff.

Pairings/Characters: Marcus Volturi x fem!descendant reader (familial), Aro Volturi x fem!reader (romantic), Jane Volturi x fem!reader x Caius Volturi (platonic, soul-siblings)

Marcus had never thought he'd have any  descendants. He never knew if any of his human family had continued on the family line. But then he met you and immediately saw the bond between you and him. And not just him. You had several other bonds within the Volturi including the silver bond of soul-siblings with Jane and even Caius, and the golden bond of true mates with Aro. To say Marcus was happy to have a connection to his former life would be an understatement. There was just one problem.

       You were a perfectionist and somewhat of a workaholic. You would work and work until everything was just right. It didn't matter what it was, work, hobbies, or even exercise. You were determined to do it right and you weren't going to stop until it was perfect. Aro, Marcus, and Jane hated that. It wasn't that they didn't want you to succeed, but they hated seeing you overwork yourself. 

They all tried to get you to slow down, especially Aro. He hated seeing his mate exhausted all the time. Though, his approach to this was to turn you sooner rather than later. You fought him on that. Aro wasn’t afraid of much, but he was terrified of losing you and even more afraid of your temper. It made Caius laugh to see Aro nearly cower under your intense glare every time he mentioned turning before you were ready. But all amusement faded from the four vampires when you finally over-did it.

You were taking out your frustrations on a punching bag one evening after working on a work task for hours. The ever-watchful Jane and Demetri stood in the corner keeping an eye on you when it happened. Mid-jab, you suddenly stopped and collapsed in a heap on the floor. Jane was at your side in an instant while Demetri raced to get kings. 

You were vaguely aware of arguing voices when you woke a few hours later. “Aro, you risk irreparably damaging your bond if you turn her without her permission. You know this,” came Marcus’ low voice. “I agree with Master Aro,” Jane grumbled, almost too softly for you to hear. You could feel the tension in the room, so you decided to try and speak up.

“And if either of you does that, I will personally rip your arms off and put them back on backwards when I wake as a newborn.” Aro was sitting next to you a split second later. “Cara Mia, you worried us,” he crooned as if you would forget you just threatened him and Jane. “I realized that. I’m sorry.”

“As loath as I am to agree with Aro about, well, anything outside of trials,” Caius stated, “I believe he and Jane may be correct in this case, Y/N. You cannot continue on like this.” You glanced between their faces. They all looked more worried than you’d ever seen them. A soft sigh escaped you. It wasn’t the first time this had happened to you, but the first they had experienced it. The whole situation was frightening since you were so fragile compared to them.

“I’m sorry I worried you all,” you relented, “I-It was always drilled into me that I had to be perfect. Nothing was ever good enough and I guess that’s carried over into adulthood. I’m not ready to turn yet, but I will try to take it easier. I’ll set break alarms or let Jane drag me away from my work more. I-Is that okay?”

“I don’t like it, but if I never have to experience this fear again, I suppose I can accept this for now,” Aro relented after a few moments of silence. Marcus stayed silent since he was simply there to ensure your bonds stayed intact. He was concerned, of course, but your bonds with the others were far more fragile for now. 

“I still agree with Master Aro,” Jane stated, concern still painting her angelic, childlike features. Caius rolled his eyes at the two of them, but you could see he was feeling the same way they were. “Very well, but if this happens again, I don’t think even Marcus would disagree with turning you.” Marcus merely nodded in agreement when your eyes met his.

“Sleep now,” he suggested only for your stomach to let out the loudest growl he’d ever heard. You felt your face heat up at the noise that betrayed the fact that you hadn't eaten very much that day. Marcus laughed, “Perhaps food is in order first.” You nodded slightly, prompting Jane to rush out. Caius and Marcus followed, but when Aro tried to get up, you gripped tightly to him. 

“Stay?” you asked in a soft voice. “Of course, Tesoro.” He settled back and let you cuddle into him. “I really am sorry,” you whispered. You felt Aro place a kiss to the top of your head. “I worry for you, Y/N. I cannot lose you.” You nodded against his chest, feeling your eyes start to drift closed against your will. Aro chuckled. The last thing you heard before you let sleep pull you under was,  “Sleep, my love. I will be here when you wake.”

(I hope you like it!)

Forever Tags: @fizzyxcustard @supernatural4life2022 @asgards-princess-of-mischief

Twilight Tags: @awesomebooklover17

[andreas-river]

Bullied!Reader gained the Courage to come to The 141 boys + König knowing they are all a scary bunch and of Commanding rank to hopefully stop the bullying they were experiencing for a bit. They feel guilty for being a Solider who couldn’t handle it by themselves, but they beg for their help despite it.

“ I didn’t want it to come to this…I swear…I just don’t know what else to do…”

TW: bullying, mention of misoginy, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, fem!reader.

A/N: hello Anon, thanks for your request, sorry it took so long. I decided to write it without separating the characters, I think it makes the idea better like this!

Disclaimer: Too many people are bullied, and sadly it happens too often, and I have fallen into this deep hole myself. It can be both physical and psychological, and it is an devius but unforgiving form of violence. I hope this can give comfort to those who need it: asking for help IS NOT a form of weakness, sometimes even talking about it with a trusted person can make a difference.

════════════════════════════

Asking for help is one of the hardest things in the world. Admitting that we cannot do it on our own with our own strength is like a display of vulnerability that not everyone allows themselves to do: there are to many sharks around, and they are all out for blood.

But every day it was getting harder and harder, and it was almost embarrassing knowing the context in which you had been living for many years. Numerous missions made you used to the horrors of a military life, and the sight of blood had not affected you for a long time. You don't remember exactly how or when it started, but the stares of the men around you became more and more insistent, not giving you any peace, voices murmuring in the hallways as you passed by when you might have just been on your way to the gym or Price's office to fill out the various papers and get them in order.

Fortunately, you shared the office with Soap and Ghost, and more recently, König, who had been temporarily reassigned to 1-4-1 for future missions. All three were certainly much better company than the other soldiers, between the various chats with Soap, Ghost's jokes – so awful they were actually funny – and König's charisma, it actually made the day better, at least for the hours spent at the desk.

The nightmare continued during the rest of the days, and with it grew the guilt within you: you never responded to all those comments that reached your ears – being a woman in the Task Force apparently was impossible, to the point of comments that made your skin crawl with disgust, nauseated at the very thought. You knew that you had worked hard to get where you were today, and that you had earned the rank of Sergeant on your own, with your own strength, always willing to give your all, even while doing chores around the base.

With a sigh, you had forced yourself to walk to your room, which was on the opposite side of the offices, knowing that you would pass anyone who would murmur about you, after all, it was just after dinner and the corridors were much more crowded than usual.

As expected, the stares didn't take long to arrive, and a few murmurs began to reach your ears. Quickening your pace, you found yourself panting in front of the door to your room – literally running away from all those people, feeling like you had no choice. The thought brought tears to your eyes, but you had no other choice.

-

Since you woke up, every movement around you put you on edge, the day started like any other, but the knowledge of admitting something like this made you nervous. You were sure they would understand, as they often asked if you were okay, checking up on you as a family. A strange one, but one of the best.

As you walked into your office like any other day, you found Ghost and Soap talking, both greeting you as you entered the room. You waited silently for them to finish their conversation, distractedly listening to the fact that they wanted to change some exercises about the training, sneaking closer to them, still wondering if it was the right choice – you were literally the same rank as Soap – and you handled worse situations better than this one, where your life or others were at stake.

You were so deep in your own thoughts that it took you some time to realize that both men were trying to get your attention, and you snapped back to reality when the door to the office burst open, revealing the tall and looming figure of König.

Soap placed a hand on your shoulder and squeezed gently with a warm smile on his face, "Hey – are you okay?"

You took a deep breath and felt König's presence at your side. You had a knot in your throat and you hoped not to stutter too much with your voice. "Yeah, I mean - kinda." The three men frowned, a bit confused by your behaviour in front of them. "I... don't know what else to do. I swear, I..."

The knot threatened to break at any moment, and you weren't so sure you wouldn't cry in front of your squadmates. "Every time I leave this office to just go somewhere, everyone starts talking–" you swallowed the luno in your throat again, feeling on the verge of tears. "They murmur about me, even disgusting things, and I know they aren't the truth, but now it happens every single day, every single moment I spend outside my room or this office–"

"Hey, hey, slow down..." Soap blocked you and made you sit down, Ghost still watching intently as König handed you a tissue, blinking and noticing that you were really crying. "Since when?"

Blowing your nose, you managed to mumble "a few weeks", letting the room fall silent after your words, except for your own stiffles, until Ghost resumed the conversation. "For today, you'll stay here and help Soap. König, you are with me today."

They all looked into each other's eyes in silent agreement, leaving you alone with the Scottish man. "They'll take care of everything, okay?" he hugged you gently, and you finally felt the weight off your shoulders, enough to allow you to breathe a little more.

-

Walking down the hall to breakfast felt strange, there was so much silence and fewer people, it felt so different when you spotted the others sitting at a table, you walked towards them with your coffee and found a place between Gaz and Ghost, with the others around.

"Sleep well?" Ghost murmured, leaning in your direction. For a moment you couldn't answer – there was so much silence that the atmosphere felt unreal. "Yeah, but... what happened?"

Price smiled as Ghost answered you. "There were... training changes."

You stared back at him, absorbing his words. You've never experienced anything like this in your life, and everyone helped you so quickly that you didn't even realize it was happening. You thanked him, a warm smile on your face as you came back to sip your coffee, finally relieved as you realized this was the best decision you could have made.

[i-smoke-chapstick]

What advice or tips do you have for a writer wanting to write the characters from Succession for the first time (Shiv, Kendall, Roman, Tom, Greg etc)

Not sure if this was meant for me, since I haven't yet written for Succession, but I can still try my best to help out! Here are some tips <3 Sorry for the long post.

Whenever I'm writing for a character, I really try to incorporate their canon dialect and dialogues here and there. For instance, Roman stutters on his words quite a bit erratically, and Greg has a lots of "uh"s and "oh"s and awkward, bumbling uncertainty. It's all about the characters voice, because I find fanfics with lots of dialogue to be the most enjoyable! If I was writing for succession, I'd typically try to follow these tips for each character,

Shiv: Shiv sometimes speaks with an underlying tone of superiority, and a lot of her interactions also have fraught tension. When writing a character, you need to look at their insecurities and desires to get a feel for what they want vs. how they express it. Shiv struggles with a desire to prove herself, but wants power. Because of this, she's blunt in all the wrong ways.

This sounds dumb, but I always do a short writing exercise beforehand and I really encourage it! One of my favorite things to do is just imagine the conversation I'm trying to write. For instance, if Y/N were ask Shiv what her favorite color was. She might say something like,

"My favorite color? Seriously, Y/N, that's the question you come up with? Well, if we're going to play this game, I guess I'll indulge you. Let's see... I don't know, maybe the color of money? Honestly, I'm more concerned with the color of success, and right now, it's looking pretty green to me."

Kendall: Similarly stutters like Roman, and can switch between being aggressive and vulnerable.

Here again with the favorite color theory:

"Uh, favorite color? That's a... good question. You know, it's, uh, probably something classic. Black. Yeah, black. It's, uh, timeless, powerful. Like, I don't know, it's just... it's a strong color. Represents, like, the intensity and, uh, the seriousness of, you know, life and business." (Long example, but I'll dive into this!)

Succession characters are very human. The pauses in their words, their overuse of "like" and "uh" (especially for Kendall). I try to use Kendall's "media trained" upbringing as a way for him to spin the question into something flattering for himself. Like if he was in an interview.

While as If we were writing for Roman, he might say something like,

"My favorite color? Seriously? Okay, um, let's go with... I don't know, red? Yeah, red. It's bold, it's sexy. Plus, it's the color of blood, and blood is, like, life or whatever. Or maybe it's just 'cause I look good in it. Either way, red. Final answer."

Roman has a lot more vulgarity in his dialogue, as well as pop-culture references and anything completely outlandish. Sometimes I like piecing together canon dialogue from the show to form answers as well, because the reader can more affectively imagine the character saying it!

Tom: When you're writing a character like Tom, his interactions really depend on whoever he's talking too, and how stressed he is about a situation. If he's speaking to a reader whose a Roy, or more powerful than him in a way, he's fumbling; not trying to impress them per se, but trying to fit in. Also, if in this universe you're writing, Shiv is apart of, Shiv is just a major part of his character in general, he'll probably mention her now and again. Once again, the favourite color theory!

"Oh, my favorite color? Well, I'd have to say blue. It's calming, you know? Reliable. Like a good, steady stock that just keeps going up. Plus, it’s a color that commands a certain... respect. Not too flashy, but still, quite distinguished. And, well, Shiv looks great in blue, so there's that too."

Now, if you're writing for someone like Greg who asks the question, someone who he doesn't view as a threat, Tom is much more assertive and aggressive. He'd be more sarcastic, less enthused, and simply wouldn't care. Might not even answer the question. He has the same loose, condescending tone as Shiv would.

"Oh, my favorite color? You know, Y/N, of all the things you could ask me—my thoughts on the latest market trends, insights on corporate strategy, or even just what I had for breakfast—you went with favorite color. Remarkable. Adorable, really. Y/N, what is this? Preschool? Do I look like someone who has time to contemplate the nuances of the color spectrum?"

Greg: Poor Greg.

"Ah, favorite color, huh? Well, that's a tough one. I reckon I'd have to go with a good ol' forest green. Reminds me of these long hikes through the woods back home. Plus, it's just got this calming vibe to it, you know? Like being surrounded by nature's...embrace." Que the awkward cough, realizing he's ranting or saying things that don't quite sound right.

Greg is more compassionate, more air-headed then the Roy's. He's probably the only one on this list to add a subtle,

"What about you?" To make more semi-awkward conversation.

Okay, Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk. I really don't think this was meant for my blog, but regardless, I love questions like these <3

[sequinsmile-x]

Edges of Your Soul

She blows out a slow breath, desperate to try and calm her nerves, to try to quiet the voice in her head that had been berating her since she first realised she might be pregnant, a repetition of how can you be so stupid to be here again less than a decade after the first time getting louder with each passing second. 

A Young Hotchniss AU

-x-

Hi friends,

I always get requests for pregnant Young Hotchniss, and I posted this Instagram series telling that story just over a week ago, and it went down so well I knew I had to write a fic to go with it.

As always, this got away from me massively and got very long. Just a note that this is pretty canon divergent so I could use characters we know and love <3

I really hope you enjoy it, and cannot wait to know what you think <3

-x-

Words: 9.1k (it really really got away)

Warnings: accidental pregnancy, mentions of abortion, references to miscarriage

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

“Fuck.” 

She brings her hand to her face, half capturing the curse as she covers her mouth, her fingers shaking as they press against her lips. She picks up the pregnancy test with her other hand, lifting it so she can have a closer look, staring it down as if the pink plus sign looking back at her would change. Her stomach rolls and she drops the test, the plastic clamouring against the sink as she grips the edge of the counter. She blows out a slow breath, desperate to try and calm her nerves, to try to quiet the voice in her head that had been berating her since she first realised she might be pregnant, a repetition of how can you be so stupid to be here again less than a decade after the first time getting louder with each passing second. 

She jumps at the knock on the door, her best friend and roommate’s voice partially muffled by the thick wood, “Emily? Are you okay? You’ve been in there a while.” 

She blows out a breath again and picks up the test, unlocking the door and shoving the test into JJ’s hands at the same time, walking past her so she doesn’t have to see her face when she finds out, “It’s positive.” 

It’s silent as Emily flops down onto the couch and grabs a cushion, holding it tight against her abdomen as she tries to breathe. JJ walks over and joins her on the couch, making a point of not touching her and giving her as much space as she can, “How do we feel about this? Are we excited? Or considering exercising our right to choose?” 

Emily huffs out a desperate laugh, nothing short of furious at herself for the tears that flood her eyes, her vision blurry as she looks at her friend, “I…I don’t know.” 

Last time, it had been clear-cut. No matter how scared she’d been, how terrified the prospect that any of it had made her, she knew she wasn’t ready to be a mother yet. She had only been 15. A kid herself faced with making choices she’d even then were difficult for adults to make. Matthew had helped her, he’d held her hand as he tried to fix what another boy had broken, but she’d still felt alone. Left to deal with the consequences of what had been nothing more than a fumble in the back of John’s parent’s car one evening. A few minutes that had changed everything. 

This time she didn’t know what she wanted. She had a boyfriend. A loving man who was good and kind and nothing but wonderful to her. It made it more complicated, the thought that this would be where they would probably head one day anyway, even if when she had let herself think about a future with him kids had been far far down the line. 

“Aaron is a good guy, Em,” JJ says, as if she’d been able to read her mind, “You should talk to him about it.” 

She scoffs and wipes tears away as they slip past her lashline, “His ex-fiance broke up with him because she wanted kids and he wanted to wait.” 

When they met he was heartbroken, a sad edge to his professionalism as he worked at her mother’s estate that had intrigued her and drawn her in. At first, he was merely something that had piqued her interest. He was younger than the rest of her mother’s security staff, but did his best to fit in by being overly serious. His frown aged him, and his slightly poorly fitting suit gave away that he didn’t quite belong in the place he’d found himself. 

It was only when she got to know him, a friendship he’d often joked since that she’d somewhat forced on him by sitting in his office all day and asking him questions, that the draw towards him became more than just giving her something to do in her summer between her undergrad and her master's degree. For someone in their late 20’s, he’d already achieved a lot. He’d graduated from Harvard Law School, had worked as a prosecutor for a couple of years until he pivoted to private security with the hope of joining the FBI. When she asked him why he’d made the change, she’d expected some bullshit answer about wanting to nip the crimes he’d been prosecuting in the bud, to help stop them at the source, but instead, he said he’d done it for his ex. That it had been a last-ditch attempt to salvage his relationship with his high school sweetheart, but that it had been a wasted effort in the end, that they’d broken up anyway when they continued to argue about fundamental things. Emily had apologised, her cheeks burning as she worried she’d upset him, something she wondered why she cared so much about, but he’d waved it off, his smile soft as he told her it was fine. 

Not long after that, things shifted between them, their friendship moving into more one night when she kissed him. They’d agreed that it would just be a summer thing, that her move to Yale would signal the end of whatever this was, and looking back on it she knew they were both lying - more to themselves than to each other - if they truly thought this thing between them could ever just be sex. 

They made long-distance work. He came to visit her as much as he could and she went to DC to visit him whenever she could. She hated it, hated that he wasn’t as close as he had been during those fleeting months over the summer, but she was getting used to it and she knew he was too. She was happy for the first time in as long as she could remember, excelling in her classes and surrounded by good people for once, and then she started to feel nauseous. A familiar exhaustion started to sink into her bones that made her wonder if her Labour Day Weekend with Aaron had left her with more than the memories of three days alone with him. 

“Emily,” JJ says, drawing her out of herself, her expression firm and her touch on Emily’s arm kind, “Whatever you choose to do you need to talk to him,” she smiles, “You two love each other - it’s kind of disgusting actually,” she laughs when Emily chuckles, pleased with herself for pulling it out of her, “Talk to him. And if he’s a dick about it, which I don’t think he will be, I’ll drive down to DC and egg his car for you.” 

Emily laughs again, full-bodied this time, and she sighs, a little bit of the tension in her chest easing, “You’re right,” she says, leaning into her friend's side, grateful for the hug she immediately provides her, “I’ll talk to him. But I might go down for the weekend,” she scrunches her nose up, “I don’t want to tell him over the phone.” 

She calls him when she goes to her room that night, grateful for a couple of hours with JJ where they’d drank mocktails made out of whatever sodas they’d had in the fridge, their trusty bottle of tequila untouched for once, and she can feel her heart in her throat when she calls him, a picture of the two of them staring at her from her nightstand. 

“Hi sweetheart,” he says, answering on the first ring, “I was just about to call you.” 

She smiles, curling up on her bed, wishing she was with him, “Great minds think alike,” she quips, her stomach churning with nerves, “Do you have any plans this weekend?” 

“No,” he replies, “Dave said he’ll make sure we don’t have any cases. Whatever that means.” 

She chuckles, “I was thinking…I might come down and see you.” 

“I’d love that,” he says, his reply immediate, “I miss you.” 

She presses her lips together, tears she thinks she might have to get used to flooding her eyes, “I miss you too.” 

“Are you okay, Em?” He asks, and for a moment she hates that he’s so intuitive, a skill that had quickly earned him a place on the BAU unit at the FBI shortly after he passed out from the academy. She clears her throat and nods even though he can’t see her. 

“Yeah, I’m okay,” she assures him, swallowing thickly against the lie, “I’ll leave first thing tomorrow. I’ll be with you by lunchtime.” 

“Okay,” he replies, clearly not entirely believing her, “I’ll make sure I have all your favourites in. Including that awful beer you like.” 

She chokes on a laugh, her hand drifting to her stomach as if on autopilot, “You’re sweet.”

“Are you sure you’re okay, sweetheart?” 

She closes her eyes and wipes away a tear that falls as she does so, “I’m sure,” she says, “Now tell me about work.” 

She listens as he tells her about the case he is working on, guilt for the fact she was about to change the landscape of his life bitter on her tongue until they eventually hang up, the promise that they’d see each other tomorrow ringing in her ears until she falls asleep.

___

The next morning, it’s all a little clearer. 

The drive to DC gives her time to think, the music she’d agonised over choosing for the journey barely registering as she considers the two futures she has in front of her, wanting to make sure she felt a little more on steady ground before she spoke to Aaron. 

She wanted to do this. 

It was something she’d somehow woken up knowing. Forced out of bed by nausea that sent her running to the toilet, spitting into it as she thought to herself that she hoped this only lasted for the first trimester. A done deal that she’d be pregnant long enough to find out something that her subconscious had seemingly decided for her. The closer she got to Aaron’s apartment, the more sure she was, her hand low on her belly as she thought about the fact it wouldn’t be easy, that she was still in college for fucks sake, but that she wanted this baby. That this time she could do it and, no matter what Aaron said, she would do it. 

For the first time ever, she’s nervous when she knocks on his front door, part of her worried this would be the last time she’d do this, that he’d want nothing to do with her or the baby. It disappears the moment she sees him, his lips against hers as he scoops her up into his arms, his arms tight around her as he turns them, placing her back down onto the floor in his apartment. 

“Hi,” he says, kissing her again, “You made good time.” 

“Hi,” She hums, dropping her bag to the floor so she can wrap her arms around his neck, “I was up early so I just left as soon as I was ready.” 

He kisses her, his hands firm on her lower back to hold her in place as he pulls back to look at her, “I got started on brunch,” he says, “All that’s left to do is cook the eggs and it will be ready.” 

Her stomach lurches before she can even tell herself to not think about eggs, or the smell of them, and she wrenches himself from his embrace and runs to the bathroom, making it just in time as she throws up into the toilet. He’s behind her in a second, one hand on her back and the other holding her hair back. 

“You’re okay, Em,” he says, rubbing her back, “You’re okay,” she grunts as she sits back, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, leaning against the bathroom wall as he reaches over her to flush the toilet, “Do you want some water?”

She nods, unable to speak yet, and he smiles softly before he leaves the room. He’s gone for less than a minute, returning with a glass of ice water and a kind smile as he sits on the floor next to her. She takes a sip and clears her throat, “Sorry.” 

“You don’t have to apologise, sweetheart,” he says, his eyebrows pinched together with concern, “Are you okay? Are you sick? I could go to the pharmacy-”

“I’m not sick,” she assures him, cursing her stomach and her sudden aversion to most food she usually enjoys for putting her in this situation, for forcing her to make this admission sitting on his bathroom floor, “I’m pregnant,” she says, her lips pressed together as his eyes go wide and he clears his throat, making a conscious effort to school his features, “That’s why I wanted to come to see you, so I could tell you.” 

“Oh,” he says, “When did you find out?” 

“Yesterday,” she replies, “I had a feeling…” she sighs, and shakes her head, “So I bought a test and it was positive,” she says, watching as he opens his mouth to say something else, but she cuts him off, “Is it okay if I brush my teeth and we go sit somewhere else to have this conversation?” She asks, her smile wry, “When I practised this on the drive here this isn’t exactly how I pictured it.” 

He smiles and nods, standing up before her and offering her a hand, “I got a toothbrush for you to keep here,” he says, nodding towards the counter, “I’ll meet you in the living room.” 

He stares at her for a beat longer than usual, his eyes drifting down to her belly before he leaves, and she blows out a slow breath the moment she’s alone. She makes quick work of brushing her teeth, relieved that the taste of the mint toothpaste seems to settle her stomach rather than make it worse, and she steps out into the apartment, smiling softly when she sees her bag neatly placed on the kitchen counter. 

“I have some ginger ale,” Aaron says, drawing her attention to where he’s sitting in the living room, a can of the drink on the side table next to her usual spot on his couch, “I thought it might help.” 

His kindness makes her ache, love for him filling her lungs as she smiles and sits down next to him, leaving more space between them than she usually would, “I’m sorry that’s how you found out,” she says, wringing her hands together on her lap, “I was going to sit you down and tell you everything…but then you mentioned eggs and the morning sickness kicked in,” she shivers in disgust, “Which is the most poorly named thing ever by the way, I’ve been throwing up all hours of the day.” 

He smiles, his hands tight in his lap so he doesn’t reach out for her, wanting to follow her lead, “How long have you thought you might be pregnant?” 

“A couple of days,” she admits, shrugging one of her shoulders, “I was sick and I felt…awful,” she grimaces, “And I felt like I’d run a marathon after every class I went to. Then it clicked in my head and I couldn’t think about anything else.”

“You could have told me,” he says and she smiles at him, “I could have been there with you.” 

“I even made JJ wait on the other side of the door whilst I peed on the stick, honey,” she says, her smile wry, “If I’m not peeing in front of her I’m not peeing in front of you.” 

He laughs, the sound ragged as it catches in his chest, “Good to know,” he jokes, clearing his throat before he carries on, “Do you know what you want to do?” 

It was an inevitable question, she knows that, but it still makes anxiety swirl in her gut because she knew this was it. The defining moment of her relationship with him.  

“Yeah, I do,” she says, holding her own hand tightly so she doesn’t press her hand against her belly, “I know we haven’t been together long,” she says, swallowing down the thought that the five months she’d been with him were among some of the best of her life, “So I’m giving you an out.” 

“An out?” He asks, his brows knitting together as he tilts his head at her. 

“It’s up to you if you want to be involved,” she says, looking down at her hands, “But I’m doing this.” 

It must only be a matter of seconds until he responds, but it feels like an age, two paths of what the rest of her life could look like mapping out in front of her, “Of course, I want to be involved,” he says, and she looks up so quickly her neck pulls, the pain barely registering as she furrows her brow. 

“Really?” 

He smiles and reaches for her hand, linking their fingers together and squeezing, desperate to try and press some reassurance into her skin, “Really. I love you, Emily. And if you’d wanted to not carry on with the pregnancy I’d have held your hand the entire time, but if you want this I do too, and we’ll do this together.” 

She finally lets herself sink into him, his embrace warm and comforting as he wraps his arms around her, “I love you too.” 

He kisses the top of her head, “I should make you something to eat,” he says, pulling back to look at her, “I’m assuming eggs are off the menu for a while?” 

She grimaces and buries her face in his neck, letting the smell of him overwhelm any kind of growing nausea, “They might be permanently off of it.” 

___

When she heads back to New Haven only a day later, she feels lighter. They talked about everything all night, barely getting any sleep as they lay there, both their hands on her still flat stomach as they spoke about the future. They knew they still had to do long distance for a while until she finished college and whilst it wasn’t perfect, that they both wanted to be with each other more than ever, they knew they could make it work.

He comes up to visit for her first doctor’s appointment, his hand tight around hers as the doctor shows them their baby on the ultrasound screen, everything suddenly so much more real for her when she saw the tiny, life-changing, image in front of her. They jokingly start calling the baby Bean because that’s what it looks like in the pictures they have printed. The doctor confirms that she’s got her dates right, that she’s as far long as she thinks she is, and Emily laments that it means she’ll be very pregnant when she graduates and that it will make dress shopping for the occasion so much harder. 

They do make the distance work for about a month, only arguing once when he clumsily attempts to propose, something she turns down because she doesn’t think having a baby is a reason to get married yet. He’s hurt, she knows that, but he understands, his love for her, for them, in no way diminished by her no that he understands is really a not yet. The distance works, but she hates it, and she starts to look into transferring to Georgetown for her next semester, not wanting to go through any more of this without him by her side. 

The tentative happiness she’d built up around herself comes crashing down around her when she wakes up only a couple hours after falling asleep, pain burning in her back and blood on her thighs and bed sheets. She doesn’t remember calling out for JJ, or her friend helping her into clean sweatpants and then into her car. She doesn’t remember calling Aaron, tears streaming down her face as she choked out that something was wrong, a phone call JJ took over for her when she became a little too hysterical for Aaron to understand. Everything is a blur until she speaks to a kind-eyed doctor who performs an ultrasound and tells her everything is okay, his smile patient as he points at the baby on the screen and plays Emily the heartbeat, using words like subchorionic hematoma like they meant anything to her whilst he explains what has happened. 

The doctor admits her to the hospital, assuring her that it was just for the night so they could monitor her and the baby, and she willfully agrees - wanting to make sure she is in the best place in case anything else happens. She tries to send JJ home but she refuses, steadfastly sitting by her bed as she keeps her company for hours until there’s a knock on the door. The relief she feels when she sees Aaron come into view as the door opens is palpable. 

“Em,” he chokes out, his eyes almost as wild as his hair, a sure sign he’d made no attempt to tidy himself up after her call pulled him out of bed, the fact he was still wearing his pjyamas - a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants - only confirming her theory, “Are you okay? Is the baby…” he trails off as he makes it to her side, pulling her into a fierce hug as he sits on the edge of her bed. 

“We’re okay,” Emily assures him, holding him back just as tightly, gripping the back of his t-shirt with so much force she’s surprised it doesn’t rip, “We’re both okay.” She knows he wants to ask more questions, but they lapse into silence, content to seek out the comfort they’d wanted from each other for hours. 

“I should get going,” JJ says as she stands up, her soft voice reminding the couple they weren’t alone. She smiles at Emily when she pulls back just enough from Aaron to look at her, her tight grip on her boyfriend obvious even where JJ is standing, “Let me know if you need me to bring you anything when you get discharged.” 

Emily nods, her smile shaking, “Thanks JJ.”

Aaron looks at her too, “Thanks for looking after her until I could get here.” 

“Anytime,” she replies, “Although, I hope we don’t have to do this again.”

The moment they are alone Emily sinks into his embrace again, her cheek against his shoulder as he holds her close. He kisses the side of her head and she feels his chest shudder, “Em…what happened?” He asks, squeezing her tighter, “JJ told me some of it, but on the phone you…” he swallows thickly, “I’ve never heard you sound like that. You were terrified.” 

She blows out a shaky breath and pulls back to look at him, her eyes searching his as she runs her fingers through his hair to try to flatten it, “I woke up and had some back pain. It felt like…” she presses her lips together, “It felt like before.” 

She’d told him all about Rome a few weeks ago. Not because she felt like she needed to, but because she wanted to. She wanted to share that part of herself with him, to let him know just how much it meant to her that he had been so perfect throughout all of this. He’d been understanding, because of course he was, and told her how she was the bravest person he knew. Something she was sure was bullshit given that he was in the FBI, but it was a badge she’d wear with honour. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” he says, not needing her to say anymore to understand what she thought was happening, that she’d feared the same thing he’d spent the entire drive here thinking about. He reaches out to wipe a tear from her cheek and she leans into his palm. 

“Then I realised I was bleeding,” she blows out a shaky breath, “I called out for JJ, I think I must have scared the shit out of her,” she chuckles humourlessly, “She was only out in the living room studying so she was in my room in a second. She brought me here, they showed me the baby and told me it’s okay,” she scrunches up her nose as she thinks about it, how she’s sure she barely made sense when she cried down the phone to him, “I’m sorry that I scared you.” 

“Sweetheart, no,” he says, pressing his forehead against hers, “You have nothing to apologise for. I’m glad you’re both okay,” he says, a hand on each of her cheeks as he pulls back, “What did they say?”

She sniffs, “I have something called a subchorionic hematoma. It should sort itself out but I’ll have another scan in a week to make sure everything is still okay,” she disconnects herself from him and reaches for the pictures on the nightstand, “They printed me some pictures,” she says, passing him one of them, “Bean doesn’t look much like a bean anymore.”

He smiles in relief when he looks at it, the baby actually looking like a baby this time, “Look at that,” he chokes out, clearing his throat, “Bean looks like you already,” his smile eases a little when she chuckles, and he reaches for her hand, “I’m sorry I wasn’t here.” 

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” she says, kissing his cheek, “It’s what we agreed we’d do,” she kisses him to stop him from saying anything else, not wanting to get into logistics right now, “Come here and snuggle with us,” she says, smiling softly before she kisses him again, “We can talk about the rest later okay?” She asks and nods, not arguing for a second before he slips off his shoes, frowning as he looks down at them, “What’s wrong honey?” 

He shakes his head at himself as he stands up to encourage her to move enough to let him slip into bed with her, “I put on odd shoes.” 

She laughs and looks down at the floor, one brown and one black shoe looking back at her, and she laughs harder, shaking her head at him as she sinks against him once he’s under the covers with her. She grabs his hand and rests it on her belly, her bump still practically non-existent, only noticeable to the two of them, “Did you hear that Bean?” She asks, her voice shaking as all the emotions from the last several hours catch up with her, “Daddy rushed to see us so quickly he put on odd shoes.” 

He kisses the top of her head and holds her close, running his hand up and down her arm, he hears her sniff, feels her warm tears against his skin as she presses her face into his neck, “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” 

“I just…” she chokes on a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob, “I don’t think I realised how much I wanted this until I thought I might lose it.” 

He holds her closer, making sure she’s gathered against him, “I know baby,” he says, cupping the back of her head, scratching lightly at her scalp, “I know. But we haven’t lost anything. We’re all still right here.” 

She nods, sucking in a deep breath as he tries to calm her down, talking to her about anything and everything until she finally falls asleep against him. She’d discharged a few hours later, sent home with instructions to be on bed rest until her appointment the following week, the beat of irritation she feels calmed by the embarrassed look on Aaron’s face when the doctor tells them no sex in that time. She’s settled into her bed, gratitude she thinks she might drown in when she realises JJ had changed her sheets for her, when Aaron walks in, still wearing the clothes he’d rushed to her in, his cell phone in his hands. 

“I spoke to Dave,” he says, walking over to join her on the bed, “I’m staying here until your appointment next week,” he smiles when she tries to interject, “There’s no point in arguing, I think if I hadn’t suggested it when I explained everything he would have fired me.” 

She narrows her eyes at him, “Does he even have the power to do that?” 

He chuckles, “I think he likes to think he does,” he reaches for her hand and squeezes it, “I’ve been thinking about work. I’m going to take a leave of absence-”

She sighs, “Aaron, honey-”

“I don’t want to be apart from you. Either of you,” he says, cutting off her interruption, “That phone call was…terrifying, Em. I drove here not knowing if either of you were okay,” he says, as firm as he ever was with her, and he presses his lips together as he shakes his head, “I want to be here for you. For all of it.” 

She stares at him, her tongue peeking out to lick her lower lip, “I spoke to my professors a few days ago,” she admits, “I’m planning on transferring to Georgetown next semester.” 

He frowns, “No, you love Yale. You worked so hard to get here-”

“I love you and Bean more,” she says, linking their hands together, “And you love your job. It makes more sense for me to do this. We’d always end up back in DC in the long run.” She explains, sure of her decision, and he sighs, squeezing her hand as he searches her face for any sign that she’s lying, “Hey, don’t profile me. You know me, honey. I can’t be made to do anything I don’t want to do.” 

He smiles, nodding as he shifts closer, his lips stamped against hers for a moment, “As long as you’re sure.” 

“I am,” she replies, kissing him again, “As long as you’re ready for a roommate,” she smiles, “Or two.” 

His smile gets wider, his dimples carved out in his cheeks and he nods, “There’s nothing I’d want more,” he says, kissing her firmly, tugging her closely so she’s all but sitting in his lap, “I love you.” 

“I love you too.”

He rests his cheek on top of her head, and she can feel his smile, “Is it still too early to propose?”

She shakes her head and pinches his side, “Aaron.” 

___

Dinner with her mother had been her idea, but the moment they arrive she regrets it. What was supposed to be an evening with just her, her mother and Aaron had turned into much more than that. Elizabeth had invited several of her friends too, and Emily felt her plans to tell her mother about her transfer to Georgetown and her pregnancy slipping away from her. It makes her grateful that it’s winter and she’s wearing a stylish but baggy sweater, her now undeniable bump hidden from view. 

She has to bite back several comments as her mother continually makes a point of explaining to her friends that Aaron had worked for her the previous summer and that was how he and Emily had met. She also makes a point of saying that Aaron had just turned 30, the reason Emily was actually in town, as if the age gap, half the size of the one she and Emily’s father had shared, would bother Elizabeth if he was one of the many men she’d tried to set Emily up with over the last couple of years. 

As the evening whittles down, Elizabeth’s friends leaving one by one, Emily feels tense, Aaron’s arm around the back of her chair doing nothing to calm her calm her down. 

“I just realised I never asked about how things are going at Yale,” Elizabeth says as she sits back down, taking her place opposite them at the table even though it was just the three of them left, “How are you finding the programme?”

“It’s good,” Emily says, smiling tightly, her hand on Aaron’s leg under the table, “Finals are next week but I’m managing,” she looks up at Aaron and he smiles encouragingly at her, his hand resting over hers on his knee, “I need to tell you something.” 

Elizabeth purses her lips and looks back and forth between the two of them, “That sounds ominous.” 

“It’s not bad, Mom,” Emily says, blowing out a slow breath, “I’m transferring to Georgetown after this semester is done,” she says, carrying on when Elizabeth just stares at her, “It’s been approved by my professors and I’m registered for classes at Georgetown already.” 

Her mother sighs as she takes a sip of her wine, still looking back and forth between Emily and Aaron, “Why?” She asks, “Yale is an Ivy League college, Emily.” 

“I know,” she replies, irritation starting to spark in her gut, “Georgetown is amazing though, and I wanted to be closer to home.” 

Elizabeth hums, raising her eyebrow, “And I assume you’re going to live with Aaron when you move back.” 

“Yes,” Emily says, her mother’s tone causing her irritation to catch fire, anger burning in her veins, “Considering he’s my boyfriend and the father of my child I thought it would be best if I live with him.” It’s only after she’s spoken, when she feels Aaron’s hand tighten around hers and watches her mother’s eyebrows shoot up her forehead, that she realises what she’s said, “Mom…” 

“You’re pregnant?” 

Emily sighs and nods, “Yes, I am,” she says, “I’m sorry I didn’t mean it to come out like that,” she adds, “But yes, I am pregnant.” 

They fall into silence and it’s cloying. Thick and overwhelming as it lays over them for a moment before Elizabeth shakes her head, “How could you be so stupid?” 

“What?” Emily exclaims, her anger returning in a second.

“You’re 23, Emily. You have your whole life ahead of you and you go and get yourself pregnant by someone you hardly know.” 

“Now wait a minute-” Aaron says, chiming in to defend her, but Emily cuts him off, squeezing his hand so tightly she’s sure she might cut off the circulation. 

“I didn’t plan this,” she says, suddenly glad she’d kept what happened in Rome to herself, that she’d never told her mother. Sure that if this was her reaction now when she was an adult and in a relationship, it would have been so much worse back then, “But I want this. And I get that it’s a shock, okay? But you don’t get to call me stupid for making this choice.” 

Elizabeth sighs, her jaw tight as she clenches her teeth, and she nods sharply, “You’re right,” she says, clearing her throat, “But I hope you’re prepared for how much a child will change your life. There will be so much you’ll want to do that you now won’t be able to.” 

She swallows down the hurt at her mother all but calling her a burden, something that had negatively changed her life, and she nods, “Mom, I know-”

“But there will also be so much you’ll do that you never would have expected,” she says, her smile wistful in a way Emily rarely saw, “Like take a thousand photos the first time they smile.” 

Emily presses her lips together at that, the flash of her mother’s maternal side rare and painful like it always was, chased by the question of why can’t it always be like this, “We stare at the ultrasound as often as we can,” Emily says, looking up at Aaron, “Don’t we honey.”

“We do,” he replies, reaching into the inner pocket of his jacket, “We brought one to show you.” 

Elizabeth softens even further when she’s passed the grainy picture of her grandchild, and by the time they leave her house, Emily is more sure than ever that everything is going to work out. 

___

“I’m never going to find anything to wear,” She huffs in frustration as she stands back from the rack of dresses, her hand coming to rest on her bump, soothing a circle back and forth over where her daughter kicked and rolled. She sighs as she throws a look at her boyfriend over her shoulder, “This sucks.” 

Aaron wraps his arms around her, tugging her back against his chest as she leans against him, their hands linked over their little girl, “You’ll find something, sweetheart,” he assures her, steering clear of mentioning it would be easier if she at least looked at the maternity section after he’d learnt his lesson the hard way last time, “Why don’t we go get something to eat and try again after?” He offers, kissing her cheek, “I’ll get you and baby girl a pretzel.”

She hums and smiles, her irritation at not being able to find a dress for her graduation fading a little as she turns her head to kiss him, “You’re really speaking my language right now.” 

He laughs and kisses her as he shifts so he’s standing next to her, his arm hooked over her shoulders, “Which one?” 

She fake laughs and rolls her eyes at him, letting him lead her out of the clothing store they were in and towards the food court, “Very funny.” 

“I thought so.” 

Sometimes it all felt a little too easy. In the five months since she’d moved to DC, she and Aaron had settled into their life together. She’d found new friends in her college classes here, an exuberant woman called Penelope, who had claimed her as a friend the first day she walked into class, was now somehow friends with JJ. The two of them, and Aaron, had conspired to throw her a baby shower - something she’d insisted she didn’t want until she was sat there surrounded by people who cared for her and her daughter, a village she knew she could never have dreamed of when she was 15. 

The apartment that was once Aaron’s was now theirs, and his old spare room was now a nursery for their daughter that they’d decorated together. She was due to graduate in a few days, and she’d put off buying her outfit until the last possible moment so she could find something that fit - her little girl and therefore her bump growing by the day now. She was due in just under a month and now she was done with college she was just focused on having her baby, all thoughts about what she’d do for a career on hold until her little girl was in her arms. 

She knew Aaron was excited too, the look of joy he’d had on his face when they found out they were having a girl something she knew she’d remember forever. Dave told her Aaron talked about her and the baby to anyone who’d listen at work, a rare insight into his personal life he would never have allowed anyone before she’d cracked his tough outer shell. 

“Can I have two pretzels?” She asks, smiling as she looks up at him, “One for me and one for-”

“Aaron?” 

He freezes, his body tense against hers as he turns in the direction the voice had come from. She frowns and turns too, swallowing down a shocked gasp as she comes face to face with a woman she’d only ever seen pictures of.

“Haley,” Aaron says, making a point of not letting go of Emily, his arm still around her, “It’s…good to see you,” he adds, clearly unsure what to say, taken aback by seeing his ex-fiance. Emily thinks it’s likely that however shocked he is, Haley’s shock must be worse, her eyes zeroing in on Emily’s bump. 

She clears her throat and introduces herself, “I’m Emily,” she says, mentally cursing herself when she offers her hand out to the other woman, letting it drop to her side when Haley doesn’t take it.

“Right, sorry,” Aaron says, his hand squeezing her side, “This is Emily, my…my girlfriend,” he looks down at Emily, “This is Haley.” 

She nods, smiling tightly at him, the awkwardness making her skin crawl, the rise in her blood pressure making the baby kick more than usual. She looks back at Haley and notices how she’s still looking at her belly, poorly disguised fury on her face that makes Emily place a hand on her bump, something that seems to draw Haley’s attention away from it and back to their faces. 

“It’s nice to meet you,” Emily says, the politeness that had been instilled in her since she was old enough to talk taking over, “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Haley chuckles humourlessly, “I’m sure you have,” she says, her smile forced, “So,” she says, pressing her lips together as she looks back and forth between them, “How far along are you?” 

Whatever Emily had expected her to say it hadn’t been that, and she bites the inside of her cheek before she answers, “37 weeks.” 

Aaron sighs, anticipating where his ex was going with this, their last heartbreaking conversation swimming around in his head, “ Haley-”

“Wow,” she chokes out, cutting him off, “That’s…wow,” she looks up at Aaron, “You really didn’t hang around did you?” She crosses her arms over her chest and shakes her head, anger she thought she’d got over months ago finally flooding to the surface, “We’ve been broken up 13, 14 months? And since then you’ve what?” She looks Emily up and down, clearly trying to clock her age, aware she was younger than the two of them, “Knocked up a college student?”

“Haley, you don’t get to-”

“Oh hell no,” Emily says, cutting off Aaron’s more reasoned response, anger and hormones and love for him flooding through her, “You don’t get to talk to him, or me, like that. You broke up with him,” she says, crossing her arms over the top of her bump, “And your loss is my gain, but you don’t get to stand here outside a fucking clothing store and try and diminish my relationship because things didn’t turn out how you wanted them to,” she turns to look at Aaron, “I’ll leave you to it, I’ll wait for you in the food court.” 

She makes a point of kissing him before she walks away, not proud of herself for the pettiness but unable to stop herself nonetheless. She doesn’t get very far, only halfway to the food court, when Aaron catches up with her, grabbing her attention by calling her name and then jogging to her side, his hand slipping into hers. 

“What are you doing?” She asks, looking back over her shoulder to see if she can still see Haley.

“Buying my girls a pretzel each,” he says, his smile tight, his emotions still all over the place after their brief encounter with his ex. 

“Aaron,” she says, coming to a stop, linking her fingers through his, “I’m sorry I kind of blew up at her, but I really don’t mind if you talk to her. There must be things you want to get off your chest.” 

He shakes his head, “I said everything I needed to say,” he says, his smile turning wry, “Well, you said most of it.” 

She grimaces, embarrassment rushing through her now she’d got over the anger, “I’m so sorry-”

“No, don’t apologise,” she says, lifting their linked hands to his lips, “It’s sweet,” he kisses the back of her hand, “You went into Mama Bear mode.”

She narrows her eyes at him, “Call me that again, and you’re not having sex until baby girl is in high school,” she hides a smirk, “Maybe college.” 

“Yes, dear,” he says, kissing her hand again before he lets their hands drop back down, “Now, let's get you that pretzel.”

“Pretzels. Plural.” ___

She was exhausted and sore in ways she hadn’t thought was possible, but so deliriously happy she barely noticed, content and happy in her little bubble with her baby girl asleep on her chest. She strokes patterns over her daughter’s dark hair, smiling as she follows the swirling patterns. 

Ivy Hotchner came into the world on her due date, screaming loudly as she protested being born, something that only quietened down as she was passed into Emily’s shaking hands. Emily knew she could live a hundred years and she’d remember everything about that moment. That first press of her little girl's skin against her own, the weight of her on her chest. The tears shining in Aaron’s eyes as he cut the chord that had connected them for 9 months. 

“Daddy will be back in a minute, sweet girl,” Emily says quietly, kissing the top of Ivy’s head, “He’s gone to call grandma and all your friends,” she runs her knuckles back and forth over her daughter’s soft cheek, “You have so many people in your corner, Ivy.” 

There’s a quick knock on the door and when she looks up Aaron walks in, his shoulders as relaxed as she’d ever seen them as he slips his phone back into the pocket of his jeans, “How are my girls doing?” 

“We’re good,” she says, looking back down at her baby, “Right, Ivy?” She smiles at Aaron as he gets into the bed with them, helping her move forward just enough that he can slip in behind her, his chest supporting her back, just like it had her entire labour, as she lays against him, “Did you speak to my mom?”

He hums, his lips against her temple as he looks down at Ivy, “I did, I told her we’d let her know when you’re up for visitors,” he says, smiling as she turns her head to look at him, “And I spoke to Penelope and JJ, they both demanded pictures as soon as we can send them.”

She chuckles, “I got a cute one of you kissing her cheek when she was laying in the bassinet,” she says, scrunching her nose up, “Might take a few days to get a cute one of me.” 

“You're beautiful,” he says, kissing her when she rolls her eyes, “I mean it. Both of you are beautiful.” 

She chuckles disbelievingly, “She is, I’ll give you that,” she says, turning her attention back to their daughter, “I can’t believe she’s here. We’ve been planning and planning for months and now she’s just…here.” 

She wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to put into words how it felt. How she and Aaron’s relationship had grown alongside her belly, blooming as their daughter did beneath her skin. She knew they weren’t together because of Ivy, but she knew their little girl had made them closer, tangling them together like vines as they learnt everything there was to learn about the other, so much a part of each other now she wasn’t sure where she ended and he began. It was part of why they’d chosen the name they had, an acknowledgement that they were who they were now because of the baby they both couldn’t imagine life without. 

“Me neither,” he says, kissing her shoulder before he rests his chin on it, his gaze fixed on their little girl, “She’s…real,” he says, and she laughs at him, her lips against his cheek when they flame with embarrassment, “You know what I mean,” he mutters, “She was inside of you kicking up a storm and all of a sudden she’s here.” 

“As the person she tunnelled out of I wouldn’t say all of a sudden,” she quips, kissing his cheek again before she looks back down at Ivy, “But I know what you mean,” she rests her head against his, “Aaron?” 

“Yes, sweetheart?” 

“I’m so glad you came to visit that Labour Day Weekend and knocked me up.” 

He chuckles, kissing her cheek, smiling when she turns her head to capture his lips in a kiss, “Me too,” he says, kissing her again. They lapse into contented silence, the only sounds in the room the small noises Ivy made in her sleep, and when he eventually speaks, it takes a moment for his words to register, “Can I propose to you yet?” 

She laughs, and Ivy squirms against her for a moment before she settles back down, and then Emily turns to look at him, “Not yet,” she replies, her smile soft and full of love, “Not whilst I’m wearing a diaper.” 

He nods, aware she wouldn’t have said yes right now anyway, and he holds his girls close, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

___

One Year Later 

“Did you have a good birthday, Ivy?” Emily asks, bouncing her daughter on her hip, smiling when the little girl beams at her, her tiny hands hooked in the neckline of her mother’s shirt, “Did you have fun with all your friends?” 

It never failed to make her happy when she thought about all the people Ivy had in her life. Their home had been full of family and friends. Penelope had baked Ivy’s birthday cake, and JJ had shown up with arms full of toys. Emily and Aaron’s friends from work had come too, and something about watching FBI agents being bossed around by a one-year-old as they played on the floor with her had made Emily laugh. 

Even her mother had been caught up in the festivities, crawling into the playhouse she’d bought her granddaughter, any doubt she’d had about Emily’s choices gone the very first moment she’d ever held Ivy. 

Ivy grumbles, pressing her face against Emily’s chest, “Mama!” 

Emily hums, rubbing her hand back and forth on her daughter’s back, “I know, sweet girl,” she coos, “I’m always sleepy after a party too.” 

“That’s because you’ve usually had tequila.” 

She turns and looks at her boyfriend, unable to hide her smile as she narrows her eyes at him where he is standing in the doorway to the nursery, “That’s a lot of talk for a man who Derek and Dave had to carry up to our bedroom a few weeks ago after a night out.” 

He smiles and walks towards her, pressing a kiss to her forehead and then Ivy’s, “Is she okay?” 

Emily nods, walking the short distance to the small loveseat they kept in the nursery, “She’s just sleepy,” she says, sitting down and keeping Ivy secure against her, “I don’t think we’ll have the usual bedtime fight tonight.” 

He sits next to them, his arm looping around Emily’s shoulders as she continues to rub circles on their daughter’s back, “I can’t believe she’s one.” 

“Me neither,” Emily says, the closest she ever comes to pouting, “She’s growing up too fast.” 

She wanted more children with him, she knew that, but she wanted to wait. She’d joined the FBI academy when Ivy was six months old, the desire to start her career too strong to ignore any longer. Once she’d passed out from the academy she’d joined the counterterrorism unit, only one floor below the BAU, where she did translation work. It was a start, a good place for her to grow her career from and she was happy with it. They had time to have more kids, something she’d told Aaron when he asked if she wanted more. She really liked the thought of doing it all again a few years down the line, a decision she’d make next time instead of being one she’d fall into, Aaron and Ivy by her side as they grew their family. 

Right now, she was content. She had Aaron, and their little girl. The house they’d just recently moved into. A career she was proud of already and friends she wasn’t sure she could live without. 

“She’s asleep,” Aaron says, and she looks down, smiling at the sight of Ivy fast asleep, “Want me to take her?” 

She nods, kissing Ivy’s head, whispering her love for her against her skin, before Aaron lifts her from her chest. She watches as he says goodnight to Ivy, holding her with such reverence it makes her ache, and they walk out of the nursery hand in hand, the baby monitor picked up by Aaron as he walks past. 

“What shall we do for dinner?” She asks as they head for the stairs, “I’d say cake, we have enough of it, but I don’t think that’s a good idea.” 

“I’ve organised dinner,” he says, an unreadable expression on his face, a spark in his eyes that makes her stomach flip. She presses her lips together and smiles, letting him guide her downstairs.

“What are you up to, Mr Hotchner?” 

“Do you trust me?” He asks when they get to the bottom of the stairs and she nods, only partially surprised when he covers her eyes.

She huffs out a breath as he leads her towards the living room, “Aaron, I swear to god if this is some kind of ploy into getting me to help tidy up…”

She trails off when he uncovers his eyes, the room that had been a mess of wrapping paper and balloons when she’d last been in it transformed entirely. There were candles on every surface, providing the only light in the room. Illuminating photos from their life together that ranged from their first actual date, to her at her Master’s graduation, both of their hands on her bump, to pictures of them and Ivy. Snapshots of their lives scattered around the room interspersed with rose petals and bunches of wildflowers, containers from her favourite Chinese takeout on the coffee table. 

“Aaron…” she gasps, her voice trailing off again when she turns to look at him. As unsurprised as she is to find him on one knee with a ring box in his hands, she still feels tears press at the back of her eyes, love for him clogging her throat. 

“You’d think considering how long I’ve been trying to do this I’d have prepared what to say,” he says, emotional himself, his eyes shining in the candlelight. He opens the ring box and the tears she’d been suppressing slip past her lashline, “I love you, and I love Ivy and our life…” he swallows thickly and she can’t think of anything to do other than to kneel in front of him, so she does that, making them eye level, “And I really hope you say yes this time.” 

She chokes on a chuckle and reaches out for him, her hand hooking around the back of his neck, “For me to say yes, you need to ask the question.” 

She watches every moment they’ve shared flicker in his eyes. Their first kiss. The moment they’d agreed they would long distance. When she told him she was pregnant and everything that had happened since, and she knows what her answer was going to be, knows what the only answer could be. 

“Emily, will you marry me?” 

She nods, barely getting her response out before she’s kissing him, holding him close as he sinks into her with relief and happiness. 

“Yes.”