#ive been itching to get back to writing as well :((

[katasstrophy]

cannot believe i was stuck doing a…. heavy gulp of air i cant even say it a STATS ASSIGNMENT BAARRFFF DESGHUSTANG!!!! NASTY!!!! when the moots have been supplying the dash with the most delicious bllk content :(((( i see you lovelies and i WILL catch up i promise but for now i shall pass out in bed <333

[zomtart]

Chapter 1: Morphine and Lavender (Frank Castle x Fem Reader/OC)

okay this is terrifying but hi I am going to share some of my writing! this is just a snippet I wrote cause Frank is always on the brain. thank you tuna team for the encouragement <3

content warnings: hospital, canon-typical violence/gore, mentions of needles, language

word count: 1.1k

Frank was beginning to think they had left him in there to die when he heard a knock. A young woman opened the door with a huff, brushing her hair out of her face before giving Frank a curt nod.

“Alright, hi, sorry, I know I’m not your assigned nurse but everyone in my unit decided to take lunch at the same time, so you are stuck with me at the moment.” she mumbled, barely looking up at Frank as she wheeled her computer stand to his side. She stayed outside of the duct-taped line, but it didn’t seem to bother her much. In fact, she didn’t seem bothered at all. Frank’s eyebrows furrowed together as she pulled up his medical sheet, searching for his name.

“Okay, you are Mr…Castle?” she asked, the sound of her mouse clicking echoing in the small hospital room.

He blinked, dumbfounded. “...yes ma’am.”

She nodded, her relaxed (but rather exhausted) expression staying constant even as she said the name that was headlining every newspaper in New York. 

“Mr. Castle, could you give me a pain rating on a scale of 1-10?”

He blinked again. He felt like he had fallen into some sort of alternate universe. His assigned nurse hadn’t talked to him in the few days he’d been here, much less give him treatment he’d give another patient. An innocent patient. 

“Mr. Castle?” she repeated. 

“Right--uh…five.” he said quietly.

At that, she raised an eyebrow, looking him up and down slowly. She eyed the numerous bruises, cuts, and scars he was no doubt covered in, and asked, “That your final answer?” 

Something like a smile itched at his lips, but he forced it down. “...yes.” 

She shrugged, typing something into her computer. “Alright, well at least the painkillers are doing something. I’ll make sure to get a refill for that--” she paused as she looked at the full IV bag of morphine, following the IV down to…the floor.

She grabbed at the IV, looking at the wire and then back to Frank. “Did you yank this out?”

“No, ma’am.”

“The fuck?” she murmured, before understanding seemed to dawn on her. The cuffs, the bright red line of tape, the bruises on his face. Frank waited for disgust, for her to become terrified, for her to spit in his face. Instead, she stubbornly set her jaw and walked back to her computer. 

“Who the hell is your nurse?” she sounded furious, but it didn’t seem aimed at him.

Frank, through his confusion, could only shrug.

She rapidly typed at the keyboard, eyes running up and down the screen. Then she stopped scrolling, eyes narrowing. “Did he have blonde hair? Eagle tattoo on his forearm?”

Frank vaguely remembered the eyes of an eagle staring back at him as he faded in and out consciousness from the pain, a man with blonde hair sneering down at him. He nodded. 

“...motherfucker.” she all but growled, and the sound turned into a jagged laugh. She threw her hands up. “Aaron. Of course it--god fucking…damnit--”

Frank felt he was obligated to ask, or maybe his curiosity got the best of him. “Ma’am, are you alright?”

She laughed humorlessly again, words tumbling out of her mouth. “Oh yeah. I’m just peachy. I haven’t slept in two days, haven’t been in my own bed in almost a week, and all because I need to take extra shifts. Why do I need to take extra shifts? Oh, I don’t know, maybe because I decided to move to New York fucking City where an apartment room costs more than an arm and a leg! And just when I think--oh just when I think I’m gonna get that promotion? No. No, I lose it to Aaron, who won’t even do his goddamn job correctly!” she finished with a burst of gusto, before collapsing down into a chair.

She just sat there for a minute, face buried in her hands, and Frank wasn’t quite sure what to do besides give her the grace of silence. 

The absence of noise was quickly interrupted by her pager going off, and she reluctantly held it up to her vision before sighing and putting it back at her hip. It seemed to snap her back into reality, and she stood up and smoothed down her hair.

“I’m…very sorry about that Mr…” she glanced up at the computer again. “...Castle. I’m--that was unprofessional, it has just been a…very long week.”

Frank’s eyebrows furrowed. “...you really don’t know who I am?” 

She grabbed some gloves from the table and snapped them on. “Someone very humble, I see.”

That got him to laugh, a low rumble that made its way out of his throat. He…couldn’t remember the last time had laughed. It felt nice. Familiar, even after all this time. 

She shook her head with a small smile, grabbing the IV and sterilizing it. “No, I do not. I’m not even sure what day it is, to be honest.”

He nodded, stretching out his arm for her and making a fist. “But you…I mean they told you…somethin’, right? A warning?”

“I vaguely recall being told to stay behind the red line besides when absolutely necessary, yes.” she said, readying the needle. “Small pinch.” 

He stared, barely registering the sensation of the IV. “...so you…then why would you…?” he tried to find the answer in her face, but all he could see was concentration on her task. 

“Why would I…?” she repeated, waiting for him to continue. With the IV in his arm she took her gloves off, typing something on her computer.

“...I don’t know, you’re just being awfully kind.”

She pursed her lips, a hand going to her hip. “I’m not being kind, I’m doing my job. I took an oath to help people, no matter who they were, and that’s what I’m doing. Simple as that.” 

He grunted absentmindedly, his eyes flitting to the window. Ten stories down, New York raged on, lights flashing like fireworks. “Doesn’t seem simple.”

She shrugged. “It is to me.” she started wheeling out her computer. “I’ll be back to check on you in a couple hours. Hopefully that IV will help. If that dipshit comes in here again, you tell him about nurse malpractice. You have constitutional rights, even if you are off robbing banks or whatnot.”

With that, she was gone, the faint scent of lavender left in her wake.

Frank blinked. “...robbing banks,” he mumbled before closing his eyes, letting the numb embrace of morphine lull him to sleep.

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

Hii! Let me start by saying I've binged most of your Tangerine and Pietro's works and I absolutely loved it 🤌🏻

If you're still accepting requests, could you write for fwb! Tangerine, after you told him that you should be just friends (bc of what he does for a living) but eventually cave in when he gets back from a mission? (mix of smut and fluff if possible).

Thank you <3

hii angel!! tehe yes ive seen you around, and tysm☹️okay I really love this !! thanks for requesting, hope you like it💌

MEET IN THE MIDDLE

tangerine x female reader

wc. 1107

cw. 18+ only!! spoiler alert but he tears readers clothing bc he's a desperate horny mess and it's hot as shit, unprepped and unprotected sex, pinv. mdni

Since you put a cool on your contractual relationship with Tangerine a month ago, you've delved back into that state of solemn longing. Putting an end to many months' worth of great sex wasn't easy - it really wasn't, and as much as you started to fall for the guy, you just couldn't seem to get over what he did for a living. 

No matter how much you pushed down that feeling of unease, you could not get past it.  

That was until ten days ago, when he texted you on a random tuesday, telling you he was leaving for work to South Africa, seeing if you wanted to meet when he returns. Since that text, he's been your every thought - every notion in your mind. 

The idea of him leaving for a dangerous job abroad struck panic and dread within you - the thought of him getting hurt without him knowing how much you really felt about him was something you could not bear to stomach.

After that text, you've been counting off the days until you could see him again, waiting until you get that confirmation he's okay and safe. 

It was finally the day Tangerine returns home from his trip, and it was singularly the only day of happiness you felt since calling things off. You both occasionally texted while he was away, only conversing when he had time to spare, talking about the plan for when he comes back. You settled on your place; he would go home, clean himself up and pop by yours for a casual, friendly night in - like old times.

Your door knocks in that familiar pattern you've grown to know so well, and you immediately rush to answer it - a bright smile as you peek through the gap, looking at Tangerine on the other side with a grin as sincere as yours.

"Oh my god," you gush, instantly wrapping him in a tight hug. You pull away, awkward eyes diverting from his awe-filled ones. "Sorry, sorry— that was too much. It's just..." you breathe, meeting his gaze. "Really good to see you."

"I missed you," he admits, speaking confidently. "But... didn't think you'd actually wanna see me."

Your smile resurfaces, and you pause. That wasn't true - you couldn't wait to see Tangerine again. 

Since you had time to call down during the time apart, you've grown to realise that his job didn't define him as a person and that, at the core of it, it doesn't really matter. He isn't some abhorrent, abusive mercenary - he is someone who loves and cares deeply, someone who is sweet and thoughtful, no matter how hard they pretend they're not.

"Bull," you joke, sweet eyes staying glued to his - like they were taking him all in, seeing him in the flesh for the first time again. "That's not true."

He steps into your house and kicks off his shoes, making himself at home. "No?"

"No," you shake your head, soft yet stern movements as you move to close the door behind him. "Not at all."

You turn around to meet him, though now, he's closed the gap between you by a foot, standing in front of you with his hands itching up towards you, making tentative movements to the sides of your face. 

His gaze remains lidded as he places his palms over either cheek, cupping you in his hands. "You mean that?"

You nod in his hold, murmuring your agreement - far too concerned about the weak sound you'd make if you spoke. 

"Yeah?" he weakly smiles, slowly leaning in towards you. 

"Yeah," you repeat, meeting him in the middle for a kiss, melting into the soft and sweet contact you've since longed for. 

He parts -barely- whispering against your lips. "Good."

His grip on your face firms as he brings you back in, kissing you more urgently this time, as if that little peck wasn't enough to satiate the need. It grows carnal, more desperate - hungrily kissing as he pushes you up against the front door. 

Your hands roam him ever so familiarly, trailing over his stubbly jaw as you hold him to you - keeping him close. You murmur a faint moan into his mouth as you feel him chub up against you, his hardening cock prodding at your lower stomach through his lounge shorts.

"Fuck," he muffles roughly between your lips, slipping a hand behind your neck - fist tightening at the root. 

"Been so long," you whisper, your voice weak as you catch your breath between breaks.

"Too fuckin' long," he adds.

He peels you from the door and walks you backwards into your living room - guiding you to the sofa within his sure hold. He keeps his lips glued to yours as he lays you down on the cushion, hovering atop as he situates himself between your spread thighs.

"Do you like these?" he asks, tugging on your pyjama bottoms.

"Yeah," you hum, snaking your hand between yourselves - reaching for his waistband.

"Alright, I'll buy'ya a new pair," he replies, voice hoarse as he slips himself from your tight grasp, sitting up on his heels. 

He places both large hands between your thighs, meeting at your crotch as he tears a hole in the fabric - giving him perfect access to your pussy.

The motion catches you by surprise, sending a deep shiver down your spine as you peek down between your thighs - seeing the frayed material right by your cunt, looking at the consequence of his desperation. 

Your chest rises and falls heavily, intense, short breaths as you peer up at him, eyes flickering over him in a way that mirrors his own. 

He slides his hand down the front of his shorts, delving into his boxers as he pulls his dick out the waistband, rolling over his length in his palm. His grip slips down to the head of his cock, thumb resting on the upperside as he guides himself towards you - parting your underwear aside with his spare hand. He slowly eases his tip into you, savouring that first initial fluttering stretch of your unprepped pussy, relishing the feeling of you needily swallowing more of him.

He strips from his hoodie and throws it aside, leaning back over you so his chest is flush up against you, hands instinctively cupping your face as he peppers your jaw in quick kisses. 

 "Fuck— I missed you," he murmurs as he slowly begins to roll his hips into you, grinding into you with easy, gentle strokes.

You guys have a lot to catch up on. 

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

[grimreaperschild]

guitar practice 2

summary: jealous wednesday starts to realise her mistakes but is it too late?

warnings: angst

a/n: i had fun writing this one, any suggestions welcome, hope you enjoy ❤️

———————————————————————

It’s late by the time wednesday returns to her dorm, mud caked in her platform shoes. she pushes the door open gently, not trying to wake her roommate she takes off her shoes and pads over to her desk, flicking the light on intending to get ready for bed and sleep the harrowing day of investigating away and that’s when her eyes land on your sleeping form curled into enid, wednesday pauses stuck in place at the sight, her insides churn and it feels as if someone’s plunged a dagger into her, not as pleasant as she originally thought but that will be addressed later.

you wake with a start at the covers being torn away from you “y/n.. enid.” shes seething, you can see it her breath is coming out in short ragged gasps her shoulders hunched “baby” you try reaching out, she smacks your hand away “you run off because i’d rather stop people being killed than spend all my time with you, you run off to cuddle up to my roomate?” she’s shaking now hands curling into fists “get out” you stand making for your clothes “not you y/n, no never you” you look at enid for the first time her eyes are wide “yeah, yeah i’ll go stay with yoko tonight” her leaving the room can only be described as tucking her tail and running.

the second the door shuts lips are on yours wednesdays small hands grabbing at the fabric of your enid’s sweatshirt she pushes you up the wall biting your bottom lip, hard. you taste blood your heads reeling as you wrap your arms around her neck all arguments forgotten, you grab at her jacket- wait her jacket? you push her away confirming your suspicions, galpin. you take in her appearance, lips swollen rage still evident in her eyes and in his jacket, you sigh

“nes we gott” she interrupts you “you’re mine, cara mia, mine.” you lean back on the wall hands coming up to cover your face “but are you mine?” the question takes wednesday by surprise, she hesitates, you scoff. “yeah that’s what i thought” you push away from the wall, pacing “you know it’s never been that you’ve been investigating, do you know how many times i’ve asked you to bring me with you? how many times i’ve sat staring at your suspect list while you were out with him” your voice is laced with venom, you know you’ll regret this later but you can’t help the way your anger is bubbling itching at your skin “IVE TRIED WEDNESDAY ALL I EVER DO IS TRY” a sob escapes you and it’s only now you realise that you’re crying.

she’s silent, of course always silent, watching “you would slow me down” you scoff for what feels like the millionth time “what and a normie wouldn’t?” she frowns at your statement, hope flickers through you as understanding crosses her face “he’s not a normie” oh. your heart falls to the pit of your stomach, she’s still thinking about him. “we need some time apart wednesday” her eyes snap to yours “y/n you don’t understand, i just need time i know what i need to do now, tyler asked me to the raven i’ll go with him and” “yeah. this is over, wednesday good luck with tyler” tears are streaming down your face as you leave the walk to your dorm is quick collapsing into bed and into a dreamless sleep.

2 weeks later you’re sat in biology class, next to enid pinkys interlocked on the table this is the first class you’ve managed to get too since that night, wednesdays tried to speak to you 3 times but you’ve not given her the time of day. you watch the clock counting down the seconds till lunch half an hour left.

your eyes drift to the gothic girl subconsciously a spark of energy shooting through you when her eyes are already on you, well on your and enid’s hands, you turn your attention back to the teacher droning on about the vampires immune system, you smirk as yoko raises her hand knowing exactly what’s about to happen “miss i don’t think that’s quite right” the teacher narrows her eyes being used to this type of interruption “why raise your hand if your still going to shout out anyway” you giggle, leaning into to enid’s side to whisper “isn’t yoko like a billion years older than her” enid snorts choking on her water “y/n she’s not THAT old” hand coming up to mask her own giggling “i love yoko but i don’t know, i mean she looks like she could turn to dust” enid let’s out a laugh as yokos head snaps towards you with such speed you half expect it to come flying off her shoulders, she points a slender finger at you “rude” you raise your hands in mock surrender “sorry grandma” enid let’s out a cackle at your words tears brimming in her eyes.

the bell sounds

you stand pulling your blue and pink streaked friend with you “im so hungry comon hurry up” enid who is still recovering from her laughing fit stumbles into you grabbing onto your arm to steady herself, you don’t say anything when she doesn’t let go on the walk to the cafeteria, you certainly don’t say anything when she interlaces your hands in the quad the next day, and in return she doesn’t say anything when you rest your head in her lap to read her fingers lacing through your hair or when you call her at 3am because you’ve had yet another nightmare.

you both continue on, not saying anything but every action doesn’t go unnoticed by a certain dark haired girl, her eyes scanning you every chance she gets.

[starrbright]

Yielding Against The Waves |Nanami K.

"I just miss you, in a quite simple desperate human way." Vita Sackville-West to Virginia Woolf

Continuation of The Inevitability of Nature. A work of mine which was inspired from @shaisuki 's works, X | X.

all my y/n are afab, fat and of color.

painting of hokusai, the great wave off kanagawa. banner by @cafekitsune.

1.5k words. fluff. smut.

ive been going thru it, so 😁. i teared up when i read the scene with the three of them after i wrote it—

Nanami would have never thought himself to be....needy. But there he is, each time his class ends, he makes you stay, always catching your arm before you could step away from his vicinity.

Burying himself in your embrace, at this point everyone in his class knew that you and him were a thing and how fucking glad you were none of them didn't give a fuck enough for a drama to happen. Shit, if anything, there's always that one student who's always the last before you to leave the room, whichver of them-locks the room for you both. Lucky enough that you were on good terms with them and that Nanami is a respectable and highly regard of a professor after all.

"You have a vacant time right now, come with me to my office," he says, his voice deep on your neck as he holds you tight.

A little and quiet laugh you make while you caress his hair, emitting a low groan from him. "I need to use my vacant time to continue writing my paper." That was almost a lie. You wanted nothing more than to indulge him and even more yourself, but you know you couldn't spoil yourself too much, at least it was a little backup for your pride that you try to keep.

Nanami was beginning to be known of it and he's found it rather endearing. He nuzzles his face on your neck, always liking the way your head lolled against his with your shaking breath leaving you.  "You have more than enough days to finish your paper. I'm just asking for an hour or two, angel."

It wasn't that hard for your resolve to crack early when it comes to him. Perhaps that's how it is anyways—love. Even when it's not there yet. It's there.

Still, you try for now. "You talk of an hour or two as if you don't hate wasting time nor you like working past your shift." You remarked playfully.

And how could he not find you even more endearing whenever you manage to make the man break a smirk or even a smile. A soft breath of little laugh escapes him and you feel it on your skin. "For you, angel, for you." He mutters softly before trailing his lips on your neck to your chin, your supple cheeks and to your forehead. "And you could never waste my time."

How could you keep your resolve?

"Alright." That word was the reason you found yourself sitting on your professor's lap in his office. While he rests back heavily on his chair, his eyes closed, as your skirt is bunched up to your waist, his pants just on his knees. Enjoying how good you were for him as you take his cock so well, buried deep in you to warm him up.

Eased you were on him, all the goodness of your weight rest heavy on him, but it was taking all of your restraint to not chase the itch you were aching to burn in your core. Trying to focus on the cold of the room instead of the heat beginning to get thick between you two, sweat rolling down on your skins, the pounding of your heart. Trying to mute it all away as you slowly slid up your grasping palms on his arms to his biceps, wrinkling his dress shirt as you fists on them.

"This is torture, you know." You breathe, having couldn't bear it.

A low rumble thrums from Nanami's chest, his eyes opening slowly to look at you. "One which I enjoy truly." A little tug of his lips showing as he says. While he begins to slid his hands beneath your shirt and gently fondle your fat tummy, the sheet of sweat wetting his skin.

You inhale a hiss softly from the feel of his big hands fondling you against the burning goodness in your cunt swallowing his cock deeply. "I can see that." You hardly spoke. You couldn't find the push to even glare at him.

Nanami laughs a little, keeping his eyes on you. "Angel." He spoke then, breathing it out softly as he grazes his knuckles on your cheek and you lolled against it, your eyes closing for a moment--before you gently hold that wrist of his, opening his closed hand and nestled your cheek onto his palm.

His eyes almost shines. His breath flowing in deep in his mouth.

A reminiscing moment flashes fleetingly in his memories.

"So," Gojo hisses with a low laugh, gently swirling his glass of alcohol. Geto rolls his eyes as he chugs his own, already knowing where the first conversation of their night will lead. "You wanna tell us about her?" He lightly grins.

It has been a month of you and him being together, though with the two of his trusted friends have known of it--nothing has been said from Nanami himself. With the exception of the said best friends or more so lovers gossiping to themselves about it, of course. And not that Nanami didn't know about it anyway.

"What's there to tell about?" Nanami responds simply. He wasn't about to tell them how he's been always wanting and needing of you. The gallery in his phone filled with the pictures you send him randomly, images of your smiles, many of trivial things you come across in your day, and many of him that ones which you take of. The many sections of his wallet tucked with coupons and receipts from the cafes and bakeries you two go to. Each and every pieces he finds and come across has him reminding of you whenever. That it's been difficult to keep himself from smiling to only the thought of you.

It's been difficult to keep it difficult.

Geto laughs as his stubborn lover scowled at Nanami, no doubt that his piercing blue eyes were glaring behind his glasses against Nanami's ever calm ones. Geto pours himself another shot of their bottle of alcohol before speaking up then. "Humor him, Kento. He's been nothing but a pester to me about the subject." He tells, ever amused. "Though of course I'm not saying I ain't curious as well nor it hasn't been entertaining me."

Nanami only tuts his head aside, almost rolling his eyes, not at all surprised about it. His eyes reflects through his glasses against the thick crystallized rock that was filled with scotch, still untouched. It would only make the burn in his heart more hurtful.

It's addicting.

Yet indeed—what is there to say? It seems that it wasn't only his friends he's been avoiding of speaking about his situation.

He was....brave enough to let himself say yes in the beginning, though the more he delve in farther—of course, the remnants of his....fear was still there and surfacing every now and then. But who wouldn't be having needles tearing their seams as they sail through uncharted waters?

As suave he is, Nanami downs his drink. The lovers wait for him to speak with a knowing and fond smile. The coldness of the drink did nothing against the scorch of its essence, and more so your being etched in him. It drags so heavy in his mind. Every fiber, down to the littlest of nerves. It's so good.

Nanami looks down at his now empty glass, tightening his fingers around it as he sees them tremble. The burn in his throat there as he speaks. "She's....the one." God, even his lips were shaky. "She's her. Everything."

He laid down his glass on the table, exhaling gently as deeply from his mouth—the weight in his chest not changing nonetheless. And when he sits back, looking to his friends again, the silence with the three of them so heard; Gojo and Geto had such loving smiles on their faces.

Nanami uncontrollably laughs a breathless smile as he looks down. He was blinding. Ever in awe they were; Gojo had remove his glasses, letting his bared eyes admire his friend, with Geto sliding his palm up on his mouth, tears threatening to seep from the revelation.

They were so happy.

And he still is if not even so much more. Never mind the heated situation you were both in the moment. Nanami, with his other hand from your stomach slowly went to him and up to his chest, all while he held your other and laid it upon his chest.

Your eyes opened when he does, the pound of his heart hitting against your palm, echoing against your own. When you looked at his eyes, you almost gasped—the fingers laying on his chest suddenly twitching. Every little thing, he catches.

Such things he never thought he'd be doing, much less feel—yet there he is; declaring what he was beginning to yearn for. Offering his heart. "For you" You could have cried right then and there. "If you'll have me." He murmured, tangling your fingers together while he keeps you feeling his heart beat.

And with your tears spilling out after all, there comes yourself surrending to the currents.

If you'd have daydreamt of this kind of moment before, you would have laughed in the absurdity of it all.

And you were, but not alone. There you were laughing in breathless tears with him, basking in the love you were both making of your bodies in his office.

Nanami stays in his paradise.

[nathanbatemanfucker]

Give Me More

summary: part of life is heartbreak and suffering; at least Javi is worthy of it.

pairing: sex worker!f!reader x javier peña

contents: 18+/NSFW/MINORS DNI, mentions of sex work, pwp, oral (f!receiving), feelings, internal angst, perceived unrequited love

wc: 1,995

an: i woke up one morning with this idea on my mind, my fingers were itching to write, especially since it’s been so long since ive written for javier. might come back to give these two a happy ending, might not. thank you to @jennaispunk for the beta! hope y’all enjoy <3

pedro pascal characters masterlist

Javier is your favorite. It’s hard for him not to be. With him nothing is a performance, every moment— every kiss and touch feels real even if it isn’t. You know that it’s going nowhere, that one of these days he will catch each and every drug lord, trickling down all the way to those hardly involved and then he will leave. But it’s hard not to get caught up in him. It’s hot and electric, there’s passion. There’s real pleasure.

He comes to you. Every single time he comes to you. Maybe that makes it worse, these fantasies in your head where you get to keep him. It’s easier to picture him sipping coffee in your kitchen or lounging on your couch reading a paper. Some things he has done, like sleeping in your bed or taking a shower. Sometimes when you curl up in bed at the end of the night, you let yourself drift into those memories, building on them as you go. It’s unhealthy and unfair to yourself.

But, you’re not sure what alternative you have. Falling in love with Javier Peña was not what you’d expected. You’d never fallen in love with a client before, but that’s Javi for you. Beating the odds and changing the game, one kiss and fleeting glance at a time. How are you meant to resist those chocolate brown eyes, big and expressive? How are you to deny how deep and exploring his kiss feels?

You tried. You really had. As soon as you realized what was happening you pulled away. Stopped answering his calls and started frequenting other places, places you were most likely not to see him. But, Javi’s persistent and DEA— he could find you if he wanted to and he had. Slowly but surely you fell right back into his clutches. Eventually you stopped fighting it. You had to be honest with yourself, the part of you that wanted to is small at best. This will be the only thing you ever have with him and you might as well hold on to it while you can. Part of life is heartbreak and suffering; at least Javi is worthy of it.

He called yesterday, asking if he could come over tonight. Of course you had said yes. Today is one of the only days during the week that you have completely to yourself, but you don’t mind. Being with Javier never feels like work…it isn’t in your mind, not that you’ve ever mentioned that to him.

His knock on the door is crisp and succinct as always, no mistaking him for anyone else. And when you open the door for him, he slips in easily, shutting the door so that he can pin you against it with his soft but insistent kisses. He tastes like bourbon and tobacco, his warm spicy scent invading all of your senses. You kiss him back easily— eagerly, hands rising to card through his soft hair.

God he smells so good. He feels so good. You could live and die here happily.

He’s always needy when he comes to you, but something feels different. Off.

You pull away slightly, running a hand over his cheek so that he opens his eyes to look at you. “Estas bien?”

“Muy bien, querida. So good, now that I’m here,” He murmurs into your mouth.

“Tienes hambre?” You ask, nipping gently at his bottom lip.

“Mhmm,” He hugs, starting a path of kisses down your neck, biting and sucking at your flesh as if to prove his point.

“For food, Javi,” You scold playfully even as you let your head lull to the side, giving him free reign.

“Food can come later. Let me take care of you, baby,” He croons.

That’s all it takes for you to abandon your line of questioning and give into him. You nod, shivering against him when he continues to bite at your skin, humming softly at your taste.

Javier moves with ease through your apartment, like its his. The two of you take a pitstop in the kitchen where he pours a glass of water. He must plan to keep you in bed all night. You have no complaints, not when the focus for once will be on you. Then he’s guiding you to your bedroom, shutting the door softly. He shrugs out of his jacket and boots before returning to you where you stand at the edge of the bed.

“Eres preciosa,” He mutters under his breath, allowing his hands to run all over you.

Sure you picked out your favorite silk sleeping dress, the one that’s reserved for him or high paying clients— though lately, it’s been just for him. He’s seen you in this time and time again. And yet the way he’s looking at you…the way he’s speaking of you has your face hot.

“Stop it, Javi,” You murmur shyly. He’s the only one who can get you like this, easily worked up and bashful. You like it that way.

“I mean it, querida, you’re so beautiful,” He lets his hands move up, trailing over your breasts until one of his hands teases your nipple through the delicate fabric causing your breath to catch. He grins, satisfied with the sound. “So beautiful.”

“Javier, please,” You whine, your hands clutching at the fabric of his shirt.

The way you look at him, with wide, desperate eyes. He doesn’t stand a chance. “Alright, let’s get you out of this baby. See how wet you are for me,” He teases as he works you out of the slip dress.

Javier gently pushes you back until you can sit on the edge of the bed, and once you’re settled he drops to his knees, spreading you open so that you’re on full display for him. He lets out a loud, depraved groan, the sound shooting straight to your pussy. You’re so wet for him already, your sex glistening in the soft moonlight that spills through the curtains. He can’t wait to ravish you, to worship you. He’s lucky enough to get you like this and he will show his gratitude one stroke of his tongue at a time. On nights like tonight, Javier likes to pretend just as much as you do. You’re completely his and he’ll speak of you no other way.

“All this for me. All mine, look at you baby. So fucking wet just from my kisses?”

Your head is already spinning, every inch of your skin feels as if it’s on fire and he hasn’t even really touched you yet. You nod softly, spreading your legs a little wider for him, beckoning him in. Who is he to deny you?

Slowly, he kisses his way up your thighs, sucking and biting the way he had on your neck but with more pressure this time. Here he can mark you— it’s likely to go unnoticed. He sucks until a mark blooms on your thigh, the bruise contrasting with your skin. The sight of it has him wanting to rut against the end of the bed. To drop his pants and bury his cock in you until you both find your pleasure. But, this is just for you. He’s here to take care of you, it’s what he likes doing.

His eyes are hooded as they look up at you, watching for your reaction when he blows cool air over your clit. He loves the way you twitch, how your hips buck up ready to feel him. He can tell by the way you bite your lower lip that you’re about to open your mouth and beg— he gives you no time too. Javier leans forward, letting his tongue slide through your folds with no urgency.

It’s the start of bliss for the both of you. His tongue feels like heaven, even with the tentative, patient licks he’s giving you. He’s so warm, sending hot shocks of pleasure throughout your entire body.

Your heady taste in his mouth, Javi can hardly contain his hunger, smiling against you when he remembers that he doesn’t have to. He sinks further into you, nuzzling his nose against your clit, letting his tongue dip into your center.

“Oh, fuck— Javier,” You moan, arching into him, your legs falling open even wider until they can spread no more. You want him to see and devour every inch of you. Your hand raises to card through his hair, and when your gaze meets his, it’s just as heated, just as lustful.

“I know, querida. I know, feels so good doesn’t it, baby?” He murmurs knowingly against you, his tongue flicking your clit between each word.

“Mhmm,” You hum, letting your head fall back as you give in.

Javier takes his time. He winds you up tight with attentive licks to your clit before giving you a break, letting his tongue grow messy and lax with no direction. He’s teasing you, you both know that, but this you don’t mind. It’s not to be unkind, not to deprive you of anything but to draw out the limited time you two get to spend together like this.

Javi wants to be here with you as badly as you want to be here with him. The difference between you is that he doesn’t let himself dream.

This is what it is. This is what it will be. He’s accepted that.

“Javi,” You breathe, after the pleasure swells up inside you for a third time, only to be deflated.

Javi looks up at you, raising a hand to cup your jaw and bring your gaze to his. His stare is so intense, eyes so dark that they’re nearly black with desire. “You ready for it? You want me to make you cum? Just tell me.”

“Yeah, I’m ready. Please, Javi.”

“I’ll make you cum, baby, don’t worry. Relax, lay back. Let me take care of you,” He repeats his words from earlier.

As soon as you oblige, laying your back flat against the bed, Javier’s on the hunt for your orgasm, like predator chases prey. While his mouth focuses on your clit, suckling and flicking, he presses two of his fingers deep into your pussy, taking no time to find that sensitive spot. Despite the intentionality of his movements, he is gentle while coaxing your pleasure out of you. It’s erotic and sweet, it makes your heart ache. You fall over the edge in no time at all and Javier drinks endlessly, lapping up all of your slick with happy little moans.

You relax further into the mattress, your chest rising and falling harshly as you ride out your release. He’s moved away from your overstimulated center, kissing at your thighs and tummy while you return to earth.

“More, querida? Quieres más?”

“Yes,” You whisper— to him, to the darkness of the night like it’s some sort of confession. Javi doesn’t understand the double meaning, and you wouldn’t want him to, not when you know how it’ll end.

Yes, you want more. You want all of him, every day for the rest of your days. You want his declarations about being his to be true. You want him to be yours. Instead of voicing any of your internal turmoil, you sit up, cupping his face in your hands as you bend to kiss him for a taste of yourself on his tongue. He hums into your mouth, smiling against your lips as he rises carefully to his feet.

You make quick work of the buttons on his shirt as his hands take care of his belt and the zipper of his jeans, his boxers. Once bared to you, Javier slots himself between your thighs, thrusting so his cock glides teasingly through your folds.

You feel the head of his cock nudging at where you need him most. Pulling back to look him intensely in the eyes, you whisper, “Dame más.”

Yes, you want more, but you’ll take whatever he can give you.

javi taglist: @lesbianhotch, @bubblybubbubs, @sheresh0y, @jxvipike, @campingwiththecharmings

[nanaslutt]

MX NANANANANNAANAAAAAA!! Hey I hope ur doing well <3 I’ve been following u for a while but I was wondering when did u actually start writing for this blog and what was the first story u posted? I’m pretty sure the first one of ur works I read was either perv geto or the aphrodisiac chocolate with gojo! lol I’ve been hooked ever since. Also also! Is there anything ur really itching to write and just haven’t gotten around to it yet? I love ur big brain so so much I hope u have a great day and ur taking care of yourself!! Mwah!

i could be wrong… i think it started as like a 100 word drabble abt nanami and it got a lot of interaction so it made me wanna write full fics and here we are :) // I LAUV UU THANK U MUAH <3

—

about fics i wanna writeeee, here’s a couple sneaky peakies of ideas ive been itching to write……

- heian era sukuna x reader n she comes from a very well known sourcerer clan, sukuna learns of her and sees her beauty, wants to yknow… get to know her a little cos he’s curious. i also wanna add something abt readers dad hearing about sukunas infactuation abt u somehow and is very resistant to you going but that only fuels your curiosity so you sneak out and meet him aaaaand :3

- another is reader being some kinda curse enigma like sukuna and they are ‘friends with him’, they take a liking to uraume and do anything they can to get them to like them back, eventually ending with uraume getting absolutely fucked out of their mind by reader of course

- yuki comforting you once you get out of a breakup by dicking you down with her strap when she finds out he never made you cum tehe

[twilightpentagrams]

hello hello!! if ur still accepting reqs can i please request nagisa and his fem!s/o getting caught? (specifically by eden) please and thank you (loved the arashi fic btw lmao)

NAGISA X FEM READER : getting caught by eden

CW: nsfw, semi-public sex, oral (nagisa receiving), getting caught/walked in on, slight teasing (not from nagisa)

A/N: this request is like a very nice cold sip of water ive been itching to write eden for forever. i might continue this with a part two if i feel inspired. thank you for this great request.

you two, for the most part, are pretty good at being secret. with nagisa being an idol in eden, of all units, it is imperative that he keeps up his reputation.

sometimes -- it gets hard though. frenzied fucking after an important live, after a long and boring photoshoot, it was easy to get caught up in the passion.

mostly, it was quick blowjobs or feverish makeout sessions. desperately grabbing and touching the other, unaware of any surroundings.

nagisa is a rather quiet and private person, but if his partner wishes to show mild pda (within idol standards, of course), he wouldn't mind.

light touches shared between the two of you in public, just intimate enough for the other to feel loved but not suspicious enough to raise any attention. just friendly gestures, to the public eye.

the rest of eden was unaware of the relationship between you two, it was private business, as far as you two were concerned. you both knew each member of eden had their own flings and relationships, but it wasn't shared information between the unitmates (besides hiyori, who announced everything he did).

nagisa is not one for public sex, but he does find semi-public sex as well as teasing to be exhilarating, he enjoys the thrill of getting you off in common-place areas.

you sat on your knees, obediently licking stripes up and down your boyfriend's cock. you hummed softly, feeling the warmth fill your mouth. a comforting hand was nestled in your hair, giving you gentle encouragement to take him deeper, to bob your head quicker, to suck his cock like it was a lifeline.

nagisa wasn't massive, but he was long and skinny. you pumped your hand over the parts of his cock that your mouth couldn't reach, eliciting cute noises from the boy sitting on the chair infront of you. you felt your knees begin to bruise and ache. these damn practice room floors, you cursed yourself for not wearing thicker pants to soften the hard wooden floor.

you mewled around nagisa's length, savoring the salty taste of his precum and sweat that mixed together like a cocktail -- intoxicating. enough to make you feel drunk and dizzy. your mind swam with thoughts, mostly consisting of nagisa's name, the word please and feverish want and desire. you needed him, it had been far too long. you hadn't been able to even spare him passing glances in the cosmic production office or during his lives or photoshoots.

it was torture. how did long distance couples do it?

you continued sucking nagisa's cock, whining everytime he ran his slender fingers through your hair. it felt like heaven, having him grip onto your hair and the back of your neck like he was going to die -- he was so desperate -- you couldn't help but find it to be adorable.

your usually composed and aloof boyfriend, crumbling in your hands (mouth?) all because of a single blowjob. so cute. you couldn't throw too many stones, however, you knew that you were just as desperate.

desperate to taste him more, to feel him more, to kiss him, to have him fuck you like you would die if he didn't.

it was symbiotic, and also beautiful.

to say the past week was a long week was an understatement. it had been a difficult week, both you and nagisa had busy schedules that never seemed to align. meetings here, paperwork there, planning and agenda writing became a routine. one long and agonizing week of being horribly pent up, unable to get yourself off but unable to see your lover. no matter how many times you tried, late at night in your room, fingering yourself and trying to use the toys you had bought -- no release came. it only made you feel more pent up. it wasn't until the climax of the week, just shortly before eden's latest live, that you two were able to have a rendezvous in the practice room.

it felt great being able to taste him and feel the tip of his cock graze along the back of your throat. your could feel his length twitch in your mouth, his thrusts growing more erratic and un-rhythmic with the bobs of your head.

the other three members had yet to arrive to practice (you and nagisa arrived methodically early, just early enough to have a quick moment of passion, nothing more.), the two eve members always arrived with starbucks and cute pastries in tow, fashionably late. you knew that you two had time to release each other's pent up lust. it was strategic; arrive 15-20 minutes before practice was set to begin, see eachother, then be out before any other member would have arrived.

a perfect plan, except for unaccounted for variables.

such as: the rest of eden arriving early, chit-chatting amongst themselves before looking at you sitting right in the open in the practice room. watching you in full view.

on your knees with nagisa's cock down your throat.

you saw your boyfriend's face flush red, a bashful expression taking over his face as he jumped a little, inadvertently ramming his cock into the back of your throat which made your eyes sting with tears.

your eyes were already tearing up, feeling embarrassment rise through your body as the stares of the other eden members burned through you.

your embarrassment was cut short, however.

"ahaha~ is our little nagisa-kun all grown up now, what splendid weather~!" hiyori cooed, setting his drink down to put his hands on his cheeks in an exaggerated manner. the other two, jun and ibara, looked away from the sight they had walked in on, trying to look anywhere but their unitmate being sucked off.

you honestly could die just then.

nagisa, whether it be out of shock or embarrassment, twitched in your mouth then you felt hot and warm liquid splash on your tongue. it was salty tasting, but not unpleasant, and you swallowed before scrambling to your feet. your boyfriend did the same, putting his now-soft cock away into his boxers and zipping up his pants. you mumbled apologies to nagisa, who looked like he might just spontaneously disappear.

your boyfriend's unitmates just watched you get facefucked by their unit leader. this was absolutely not the plan.

as you walked towards the exit, shame filling up your body like wet sand in a bag, you heard a jubilant voice whisper to you.

"next time, producer, feel free to put on a little show for us, hmm? you looked real cute!" hiyori smiled, gesturing to ibara and jun who were desperately trying to ignore what they just saw.

you just nodded, before scrambling out the door and trying to forget that ever happened. you shot nagisa a "sorry, hope they don't tease you too much" text before heading back to your dorm.

[diazsdimples]

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

It’s snowing!!

A snowstorm in my inbox!! 21 frosty sentences just for you (we're pretending that last section in the speech marks is one sentence okay)!

Frostpunk AU ❄️

Hope surges through Buck at the news – it’s the closest thing either of the Diazes have made in terms of visible progress and he clings onto it like a lifeline, Bobby’s words from a few days prior echoing in his head. “Do you think he’d be able to hear me, you know, if I talked to him?” Buck asks Hen later that morning. She’s doing her routine cares on Edmundo, checking his IV sites to make sure they haven’t tissued and taking his vital signs, and Buck hovers around her, his fingers itching to thread through Edmundo’s steadily lengthening hair. “Who, Christopher?” Hen asks as she turns Edmundo’s hand over in hers, checking the length of his nails and the colour of the IV site. “I mean, both of them really, but yeah, Christopher,” Buck replies, shifting restlessly from one foot to another. “I was thinking of reading to him, so he knows he’s not alone.” Hen give Buck an almost sad smile, ones that he’s become more and more familiar with as the days have passed. He’s seen it on Hen’s face as she works and watches him keep constant vigil at the Diazes bedsides, and Bobby and Athena’s whenever they come and check on him. Maddie doesn’t try hide her sadness behind a smile, he sees it whenever he walks into a room these days. Be careful with yourself, Evan. Don’t get too attached. Yeah, well, Buck’s never been very good at listening to instructions, even if it’s for his own good. “I’m sure he’d really appreciate it if you read to him, Buck, that’s a good idea,” Hen replies, and Buck’s already pushing through the tent flaps and pelting down the icy streets before he knows what he’s doing. It’s -30 degrees Celsius today, fairly mild for this time of year. The sun hasn’t quite crested over the big ridge that shelters the city, leaving the streets and buildings sparkling with icy dew from the frozen night. The slats of streets are still slippery with black ice, and more than once Buck has to grab onto a streetlamp to stop him from slithering sideways as he takes a turn too quickly. He reaches his tent in record time, sporting a new scrape on his knee from a misjudged corner, and shrugs off his coat, barely sparing a moment to brush the snow off his pants before continuing on his mission.

[insert this snippet about the Princess Bride here]

With the book clutched tight to his chest, Buck makes his way back to the med tent, this time with much more care. There’s a new chair waiting for him between Edmundo and Christopher’s beds, this one lined with furs and complete with a small section that pulls out, should he want to prop his feet up. There’s no indication of who made the switch, but Buck sees what looks suspiciously like the back of Bobby’s head over in the supply section of the tent, and Buck’s throat constructs a little. He settles himself down on the chair, kicking his boots off, and leans over Christopher’s side, speaking quietly to the kid. “Hey bud, it’s Buck. I- I don’t know if you can hear me but I’ve bought a book with me today, and thought I’d read it to you. My sister used to read it to me when I was little, and it always made me feel safe so I figured I’d do the same for you.”

Tagging friends who have shown interest in this work

@neverevan @cal-daisies-and-briars @exhuastedpigeon @thekristen999 @spotsandsocks @hippolotamus @jesuiscenseedormir @theotherbuckley

Make me write things!!

[mistress-ofmagic]

Around the Realms in 80 days - chapter 21

Pairing: Reader x Loki

Story summary: You have fallen through a portal during the convergence into Asgard and come face to face with Thor, and his brother Loki. With no way to return, you must travel with the two men and their hoard of asgardian soldiers to get back home. Things get from bad to worse when you have to share a tent with the god of mischief himself.

Notes:

Hi!!! Hope you are doing well! I don't have much to say here for once other than the fact I really loved writing this chapter and I hope you enjoy it! This is my longest chapter to date standing at just over 5000 words so it has taken me a while! Please let me know what you think as all your comments mean the world!

Read this story on a03!

find all parts to this story on Tumblr here:

Your eyes flickered open. The world was moving fast in bright colours around you. You were vaguely aware of being in someones arms as you travelled through the rainbow tube. You tried open your mouth to speak but you blacked out again.

                                                                            ***

This time when you woke, you woke lying in a bed in the middle of a small room. Your eyes felt heavy, and difficult to open. You just wanted to go back to sleep but there was someone saying your name. 

“How are you feeling?” It was a man’s voice you didn’t recognise. 

“Hm.” You grunted. You mouth felt dry and strange to use. 

How were you feeling? Tired mainly but your torso ached and it felt like there was a heavy weight on your chest. 

“What would you give the pain out of 10?” 

In your state you thought it was a stupid question. You were too tired to concentrate on anything, you couldn’t even open your eyes, never mind try to think critically about pain. 

“It hurts. Like an 8.” You croaked out.  

“Okay. I’m just administering oxycodone, it’s a strong painkiller.” 

You didn’t care if he was administering orange juice, you just wanted to sleep. 

“What is it now?”

“A 6?”

You weren’t completely sure there had been any difference but you wanted to be left alone. The man checked in a couple more times but soon he left you to sleep. 

You spent the next few hours drifting in and out of consciousness, barely aware of your surroundings. Your thoughts meandered through your brain like clouds; never able to catch one and hold onto it for long. You were vaguely aware of people coming in and out to check on you, but you were never sure who or for how long they were there. 

Eventually you came round to keep your eyes open for long enough to notice the dark haired, blue eyed man sat on the chair next to you watching you closely. 

“You’re alive” He spoke matter of factly.

“So they tell me. Don’t get too excited.” 

You blinked heavily becoming more aware of your surroundings. You had an IV tube coming out of the cannula in your left hand and a thin oxygen tube in your nostrils that itched if you thought about it too much. You were donning a sexy hospital gown and were tucked under thin blankets. 

“What hospital is this?” You asked. 

“You’re in Stark Towers.” Loki said, grimly. “They have some wards here, free health care for Stark employees.”  Loki sniffed. “The care would have been better on Asgard.” 

“I’m not so sure Odin would be best pleased with that.” 

Loki didn’t disagree. 

He continued to stare at you, not exactly friendly.

“What?” You grunted, your voice still hoarse.

“What?” He parroted, “What?” His voice started to raise, “You’re lucky you are not dead you wretched girl. If you were not in so much pain right now…”

“Yeah well you’re lucky to be alive too! You’re welcome by the way Jesus, next time I won’t bother.” You were in pain and irritated. 

“Good, you shouldn’t.” He spat. “ I don’t think you realise… you could have died! I could have lost you.”

You both looked surprised at his admission. His eyes wide and mouth open slightly as if he wasn’t expecting those words to come out of his mouth.

“Well, I’m still here.” You said in a small voice. 

Loki sighed and ran his hands through his hair. He looked almost as tired as you felt, with dark circles under his eyes and unkempt hair. 

Your torso continued to hurt and you knew that if you tried to sit up it would be worse so you didn’t bother. After all that drama you felt exhausted.

“I apologise, I shouldn’t have raised my voice, not when you are in this condition.”  He breathed. “We can talk about this later.”

There was a few moments silence before you decided to change the subject. 

“What happened after I fell?”

“I took you back via the Bifrost.”

“And the Fire demons?”

“Thor and the others came out on top mostly, but we didn’t learn as much as we hoped.” He sighed. 

“Actually…” You repeated back the conversation you had with the fire demon who had cornered you. 

Loki looked thoughtful.

“I wonder what they’re using humans for.”

Your mind flicked back to that conversation which had resulted in you shooting the demon. 

You shuddered.

Loki quickly switched his attention back to you,

“Are you cold?” He asked, sharply. 

“Er, no.” You ignored the strange feeling in your stomach that arose due to his consideration, a feeling that had nothing to do with your injures. 

Loki was still staring at you and you signed, 

“I guess I feel bad about…hurting that fire demon.”

Loki continued to stare at you, unnerving you slightly. 

“Well,” You huffed defensively “What if he was married? What if he had tiny fire demon babies and enjoyed going to see fire demon movies at the pictures on weekends and I just…”

His eyebrows raised and his mouth twisted into a smile.

“Stop laughing at me, sorry I’m not a cold blooded killer like you.” You turned your face away from him.

Loki signed and looked at you amused. 

“You’re sweet.”

You turned back to him to scowl. A rare compliment from Loki and you were outraged. 

“I’m not sweet, fuck off.” 

He laughed and then spoke, seriously, as if just remembering again why you were here in the first place. 

“You saved my life.” This time he didn’t say it angrily.

“Yeah well, we all make mistakes.” You brought the tone back to being lighthearted. 

There was a pause for a moment and then Loki said, 

“Fire demons don’t get married and have babies, or go to the theatre.” 

You turned back to face him, still scowling. 

“Well” you spluttered “then how are they created?”

“They’re formed, where the volcanic ash meets the flowing lava in the core of Muspelheim. Some say they are all the offspring of Surtur.”

“Huh.” You let this information sink in. “All of them his offspring? Gets around a bit then doesn’t he, ol’ flame breath.” 

“Alas, I see you are back to your normal self.” 

You managed to crack a smile and then frowned thoughtfully. 

“What was that thing Surtur was talking about rag-thingy?”

Loki sighed and rubbed his head, “Ragnarok.” He spoke slowly. “The destruction of the cosmos and everything in it.” 

You took a second to take this in.

“Not to sound stupid but like…why would Surtur want to even cause that?”

He gave you a slide glance. 

“Its written in the prophecy that Surtur would bring about the ending of the realms, nothing left but the void. Then, in its place, a new, better world would emerge lead by superior beings.”

“Sounds kind of like a message a cult would try and push. And Surtur’s okay with dying if it means fulfilling the prophecy?” 

Loki gave a half shrug,

“Perhaps he thinks he will survive to lead as the superior being or perhaps he feels driven to simply fulfil his prophecy, who can tell.”

“Well the other realms will want to stop this right? He won’t be able to go ahead with it?”

To your surprise Loki continued to look grim. 

“It is like you said, some believe it is a mere fairytale, told as fiction or believed by an insolent few with nothing better to believe in. Would your people believe this?”

You shook your head, as you said before, it sounded like a stupid cult. 

“Other versions of the story talk of the destruction of the Aesier Gods and the rise of the new Gods and there are many who would wish for this to come to fruition, and rather than stopping it would help enable it. I believe Surtur would work with anyone to help him bring about Ragnarok.”

Your eyes felt heavy again. The conversation had been an exhausting one and despite the fact you should be horrified, you mainly just felt sleepy. Loki noticed your fatigued state.

“You should get some rest. The doctors say that you will be very drowsy after the strong medication you have been given.” 

“Thank you nurse Loki.” You yawned. 

You were out before you could catch his reply. 

                                                                             ***

The next time you work up, Loki was still sat in the chair next to you, squinting and looking irritated while he was apparently watching Ice Age 2 on the television. 

“You’re still here.” You blurted out, surprised. 

Loki glared at you, “I can leave if you’d prefer.” He said, affronted. 

“No.” You said too quickly, his expression turning to one of surprise. “What I meant is…I was just surprised that’s all. I assumed you’d have better things to do than sit with me while I fall in and out of sleep, I’m not exactly much company. 

“I grew up with Thor, believe me this is much more preferable company.” He turned back to the TV.

“How are you finding Ice Age 2?” You asked. 

“Pitiful. Is this really what Midgardians see as entertainment?”

“Hey, this is a classic.”

He gave you a disparaging look as the nurse came into the room.

“Ah good, you’re awake. How do you feel?” She shot a couple of anxious glances towards Loki but to your surprise didn’t react too adversely to his presence. 

“Tired still.” You said truthfully.

“The aesthetic will make you tired, it can take 24 hours for the effects to wear off so you are likely feel fatigued for a while. Now you are awake I can take your oxygen tube off.” 

She bent down to do so and you were grateful for the relief from the itchy feeling of the tube. 

“You should try and eat and drink something.” She advised you.

Ugh, the thought of food made you feel sick. She saw the look on your face and said,

“I’ll bring you something light, make sure you keep drinking through.” She indicated to the jug of water next to you.

“Here, let me sit you up a bit.” She pressed the button on the side of the bed and raised the back so you were sat instead of laying. 

You pushed yourself up higher and cringed in pain at the feeling of moving. 

“Are you okay?” Loki asked, quickly. 

“Fine just hurts.” You winced. 

Now that you were sat up, and feeling more awake, the nausea kicked in much heavily. You took a tiny sip of water and felt worse. 

The nurse popped out the room and brought back some crackers, laying them next to the water. You eyed them, grossed out by their presence. 

“I’ll come back to check on you later.” She said pleasantly and then left. 

You closed your eyes again and tried to fight off the feeling of nausea. 

“You should eat something.” 

You didn’t reply you were busy focusing very hard on not being sick. 

“You should eat something.” Loki repeated.

“Yeah thanks.” You mumbled non-committally. 

Loki tutted angrily. “Do not make me repeat myself a third time. Do you want me to feed you like a babe?”

You cracked an eye open. 

“Er no, no one wants that.” 

“Well then eat something you silly chit.” 

“You’re so pushy.” 

Unfortunately, opening your mouth to speak triggered your gag reflex. 

Loki jumped in his chair and moved his arms as if he was about to touch you and then thought better of it. 

“Can you get the nurse to bring me a sick bucket.” You moaned. 

“Right.” 

He disappeared out of the room for a moment and came back with some disposable sick bowls that you always thought looked like cardboard hats.

“Here.” He passed you the bowl.

You sat yourself up higher and resumed the “I’m going to be sick” position over the bowl. Loki still hadn’t left and you side eyed him. 

“Can you go please?” You gagged again. 

Even in your state, you had enough pride to not want a God watching you as you threw up.

“Nonsense.” 

To your surprise, Loki stepped towards you and gently moved your hair so it wasn’t in your face. 

“I have seen worse things than an ill maiden.” He spoke softly. 

Ugh, fine, you thought. If he wanted to stay for the show so be it, you couldn’t be bothered arguing. Nor did you have time as it turned out as you expelled the contents of your stomach. 

Loki passed you some tissue to wipe your mouth with. You groaned and lay back as the nurse came and took the bowl away, giving you a fresh one. 

The aesthetic and painkillers unfortunately did not agree with you, and you threw up a few more times. Loki continued to stay with you, despite the fact that you doubted Asgardian Gods regularly nursed over humans. 

“Thanks.” You mumbled grimly as he took away one of your sick bowls. 

“You have thanked me nearly ten times now mortal, stop it or I will shut your mouth for you.”

“I am thankful though, you really didn’t have to stay.” 

Loki didn’t reply but brought you back another bowl and sat close to you. 

“This is humiliating.” You moaned. 

“There is nothing humiliating about being ill. Mortals still have such old fashioned ideas about modesty.” 

“That’s easy for you to say. You have probably never done anything humiliating in your life.” 

Loki gave a little snort but didn’t reply. You stared at him with your eyes narrowed. 

“Go on then, what is the most humiliating thing you have done?” 

Loki looked at you, unconvinced. 

“You’ve just held my hair back while I was sick, you owe me one humiliating story. Also I saved your life so.”

Loki rolled his eyes. 

“You’re always going to use that as a bargaining chip to get what you want, aren’t you?” He said dryly. 

“Hm. Now spill.” 

He took a deep breath in.

He spoke slowly, “A couple of hundred years ago I…I slept with Fandral.” 

You stared at him, your mouth opened slightly and eyes widened in surprise. You really hadn’t expected him to say that, you thought he would say something like “once I tripped up in front of the royal council” or “one time Thor left me with a black eye.” 

He met your gaze, waiting for your reaction. 

“What was he like?” You asked.

He gave you a little flick on the nose.

“Ow. I’m being serious Loki. Fandral is a good looking guy. Sleeping with a good looking guy isn’t humiliating. That’s like me saying oh this one time I won an award for being the too sexy and hot, it was so embarrassing for me.” 

Loki ignored you and continued to look like he’d sucked a lemon. “They were dark days.” 

“We’ve all slept with someone we don’t like as a form of punishment.” You paused, “Thanks for telling me, I know it meant a lot to admit that.” 

He gave a tight smile.

“Don’t get too used to it mortal. I merely told you to stop you from winging about being embarrassed from throwing up in front of me.” 

You spent the rest of the day flitting in and out of sleep, Loki beside you the whole time. You were to be kept a close eye on to ensure you were okay to be discharged so you stayed the night. To annoyance, Loki was asked to leave the ward at night. You persuaded him to go and get some rest and get a fresh pair of clothes and with great reluctance he agreed. 

That night, you dreamt you were back on Muspelheim fighting fire demons. This time, when you tried to run to save Loki your legs wouldn’t move and you had to watch on as one of the demons took him down. The next time, Loki was completely blue and he was the one attacking Thor and the others while you tried to get to him. 

You woke up abruptly, in a cold sweat and alone in your hospital bedroom.

Until now, you had completely forgotten about Loki’s skin turning blue and cooling your burns down. How could you have forgotten that? Was that part of Loki’s magic skills or something else? You were going to have to ask him about it when he visited later. Assuming that he did visit later of course, he had been there for the full day before he might decide his caring duties were finished. You closed your eyes again and managed to get back to sleep.

In the morning the nurse had brought you something to eat, which you managed to keep down. After she’d helped you to use the facilities you were sat up feeling a bit brighter now the aesthetic had worn off and watching day time T.V.  

The door swung open but it was Thor that tipped into your room looking somewhat sheepish and holding a big bunch of flowers. 

“You’re awake!” He greeted you, and planted a kiss on your cheek. 

“Thor! Thanks for the flowers.”

Seeing Thor, future king of of Asgard stood in your small room with the largest bunch of flowers you’ve ever seen felt very strange somehow, as if he didn’t quite fit the space he was in. 

“Er, sit down.” You indicated to the chair Loki had been residing in after a few moments of him stood awkwardly at the foot of your bed. 

He plonked himself in the chair and then said, rushed,

“Latte, I cannot apologise enough for what happened and I am so glad to see you well. I take full responsibility for what happened to you and -.” 

“Thor, oh my god, honestly it’s not your fault.” 

He continued to look grave. 

“I should have been keeping closer watch on you when we were on that forsaken planet and…” 

“Seriously, Thor it’s fine I made my own choices.” 

He sighed heavily but looked relieved. 

“Thank you for saving my brother.” He said seriously. “Just to think, a little while ago you both hated each other, and now look at you, firm friends.” He beamed.

“Well, okay, let’s not be too hasty.” You tried to sit yourself up a bit higher. “How is everyone else doing?”

“Fine, fine. The rest of the warriors headed back to Asgard. Stark wants to speak to you by the way when you are feeling better. He said he might come down and see how you’re doing.” 

There was a couple of moment of comfortable silence when you remembered your dream earlier. 

“Thor, erm, can you tell me more about Loki’s…parentage?” You asked, tentatively.

His forehead creased.

“Why do you ask?” 

“So there was this moment when I got hit by the fire demons Loki’s erm hand turned blue and like really cold?”

Thor shifted uncomfortably in his seat. 

“I think its’ best I let Loki tell you more about that.” 

You sighed, you thought he would say as much but it was worth a try. 

Thor actually stayed with you for a couple of hours, watching Madagascar and it was nice to have some company. Unlike Loki, Thor actually seemed to find cartoons amusing and kept guffawing with laughter.

After a while, Loki popped by to see you again. He looked a little fresher than when you’d last seen him, but still had dark under eyes and a pale complexion. He was holding a bunch of flowers himself and he seemed unsurprised but a little irritated to see Thor there. 

“I can take it from here, thanks.” Loki told his brother. 

Thor kept his eyes glued to the T.V, “I’m just waiting to see if these animals make it back to their zoo.” 

Loki glowered at him and Thor eventually looked up and got the hint. 

“Er, see you later then Latte. I’ll come down and see you soon.” He gave you another kiss on the cheek to which Loki scowled further and then left. 

Loki moved Thors flowers from your bedside table and put his down instead, moving Thor’s to further away from you. 

“You didn’t strike me as the flowers type.” You raised your eyebrows pointedly. 

“These are from my mother.”

“Huh?” 

Loki gave you an irritated look. “She wrote to say she wishes you well.” He fussed over the flowers.

“You… you wrote to your mother about me?”

You felt funny inside, you were both flattered and unsure how you felt about the Queen of Asgard perceiving you and knowing what you got up to.

Loki shrugged your comment off and sat down where Thor had been. 

You would normally spend longer pressing him but you really wanted to talk about the big blue elephant in the room.

“I need to ask you something.” You geared yourself up for your next question.

“Oh?” Loki was indifferent.

“Er yeah.” 

When you took a deep breath in you caught Loki’s attention and he eyed you cautiously.

“Is this about Fandral again because it was a long time ago and…”

“No! No it’s not about that.” You interjected.

Loki relaxed back into his chair,

“Ok, then…?”

“How come your hand turned blue and cold when I got shot with that fire bolt?” You blurted.

Loki froze in his seat for a couple of seconds.

“I - I don’t know what you mean.”

“Don’t play silly buggers with me, I saw it.” 

“I - er what?” You threw him off momentarily with your figure of speech. 

You took this moment to push him further.

“Does it have something to do with your true parentage? I saw some things in a book about erm how maybe you come from an ice planet or something I forgot it’s name…” You faltered at the end of your sentence. “But those books you said are sometimes wrong so…”

Loki continued to stay very still, you weren’t even sure if he had taken a breath.

“You don’t have to tell me!” You rushed, “If it’s like a sensitive topic or something I was just curious but if you don’t want to tell me then that’s fine of course.” You blathered.

He blinked a couple of times before he spoke.

“Yes.” He seemed to force himself to say. 

You wanted to ask “yes what?” But you let yourself be quiet. 

There was a long pause and you thought about changing the subject when he finally spoke.

“I should probably tell you.” He spoke, strained. 

“Well, er, only if you’re sure.” You hung on to his every word.

“It seems to have put some of it together already. I can’t say I’m surprised.” He seemed to deflate. “My father, my true father is Laufey, a frost giant from Jotunheim. And my mother…well one assumes she was a lesser frost giant. Either way I was abandoned and Odin took me in as one of his trophies.” He spat. 

You remembered reading that now, and your mind flicked back to the pictures in your “Norse mythology for dummies” book. You do not remember them being described as an especially nice, kind people. In fact, you could remember that the Asgardians seemed to hate them.

It did not sound like Loki had the nicest of starts in life. 

“And did you always know…?”

“That I was a frost giant?” Loki snorted wildly, “No, Odin elected to withhold that piece of information until a few years ago.” 

Jesus, you weren’t sure how to respond to that. 

From what you knew and had gathered already you started to piece things together. The idea Loki grew up for years not knowing why Odin favoured Thor or knowing why he was different from others made you feel…sad. 

Loki’s face looked pained and although you couldn’t tell exactly what he was thinking about, you felt you were well versed in Loki’s inner battles. He stayed staring down at the floor, and continued to not move. 

“Loki, thanks for sharing that with me.” 

He flicked his eyes up to you. 

“You seem unfazed by this.”  He scowled. 

It seemed he was waiting for something but you weren’t sure what he needed from you. How do you react when someone shares something so intimate with you? Perhaps he didn’t think you were being upset enough.

“No, no,  I’m not unfazed, I think its’ really sad! I’m really sorry to hear that happened to you.”

You cringed at your words, you were clearly not very good at this.

Loki scoffed, “You should be scared, not sad.”

Now you were genuinely confused,

“Why would I be scared?” You asked slowly.

“I’m a monster.” He flashed his eyes at you. 

“Well, I already knew that.” You caught his eye so he knew you were joking with him but he didn’t smile back.

“I look like a monster.” He said plainly, as if he wasn’t too bothered by this. 

You weren’t sure how to respond to that or if he was looking for an ego lift or not. He was normally so cocky about his looks too so this had thrown you for a loop. You felt your face grow warmer as you tried to navigate your words.

“Well er I don’t know if it makes you feel any better but I actually think you look rather…good…you know, er, you’re pretty good looking and it feels like you’ve never really had an issue you know, scoring or anything…”

“Not in this form, obviously.” He rolled his eyes. 

“Wh- like…an ultimate form or…?” 

“My frost giant form.”

“Right, well obviously I haven’t seen you in that form so I can’t really comment. I also don’t know loads about frost giants so it’s kind of hard for me to understand, I guess I haven’t got much context…” 

Loki nodded and stood up suddenly. You thought you must have offended him and he was going to leave but he stalked over to the door and shut it. 

“I’ll show you.” 

You tensed yourself, your heartbeat quickening, unsure of what was about to happen. 

Loki stood at the bottom of your bed and closed his eyes. 

Swiftly, his skin started turning a pale blue colour and he grew even taller. Markings appeared on his skin, trailing down his arms and face. Finally he opened his eyes and you were shocked to see that they were a bright red. 

Your mouth hung open and you took a couple of seconds to take in the transformation. 

“See. You are scared.” His eyes narrowed at you, getting angry at your reaction.

“No?” You stuttered, scared. 

You gripped onto your blankets, and swallowed hard. 

It really was a shock seeing him like this. It’s not every day someone in front of you suddenly completely changes.

“No.” You repeated stronger this time. “I’m not scared its just that you look, different, and it’s taking me a second to get used to it. If I grew a few feet and turned purple or something you would have to get used to it, ’m not saying it in a bad way or anything…”

Truthfully now you were settling in to seeing him like this and your breathing had calmed down you really didn’t hate it. He still looked like Loki, with the same long dark hair and facial structure. To be honest you thought the colour was pretty and the markings were very cool. The more you looked at him the more you liked it. 

“I actually think this is a good look. It kind of suits you.” You said, candidly.  “So does all of you look like this when you transform or…?” You asked, innocently. 

Loki flashed his startlingly red eyes at you but you thought you could see a hint of a smirk too. You were relieved to see a shadow of his normal self and humour peaking through a somewhat angsty mood. 

Loki turned himself back to how he normally looks. 

“I meant what I said Loki. It genuinely must have been horrific to learn that there was such a large part of your past that you had been missing up until now.” 

He didn’t say anything and continued to stand.

“The monster that parents tell their children about at night.” He chuckled.

“Well hey, if it makes you feel any better I definitely won’t be telling my children about you. And if you’re trying to scare me off you forget I have seen you with bed head, and I still stayed friends with you even after that, no form of you could be scarier than that.”

You managed to get a half smile out of him before he sighed.

“I have gotten used to this part of myself.”

You nodded, encouragingly,

“That can’t have been easy, to find out you are something that your people have always despised and been brought up to hate and to make peace with that. That’s a massive achievement.” You smiled at him. 

“Yes I know.” He said, stiffly and rolling his eyes.

“I have made peace with being a monster now.” He eyed you curiously “however a sane human would have rang for the nurse and asked me to leave.” 

You snorted, you thought about saying “I’m not like other girls” ironically but you didn’t think Loki would get the joke. 

“Are you saying I’m not sane? That’s kind of rude, I’m in hospital, aren’t you supposed to be cheering me up?”

Loki gave you the exasperated look you were used to him giving you.

“Come on, why don’t you sit that blue ass down and watch…” You flicked the guide on “…Harry Potter with me?” 

Loki gave you a stern look.

“I will sit down, but not because you told me, because you are unwell and have been through serious physical trauma. Clearly this trauma involved a sever bang to your head which has made you think you can talk to me in such a vernacular way. I will forgive you however, because you are a patient.” 

“That’s very generous of you your majesty.” 

Notes: What did you think?? let me know!

Taglist:

@creationsbyme  @kikster606  @slytherinintj13  @th0rswh0res  @huntress-artemiss  @jannieka394 @stefffrs  @misswimberly @thedistractedagglomeration  @yoongissidebitchh  @purplekitten30 @mischief2sarawr  @johnmurphys-sass 

@lonadane  @imalovernotahater @lokisgoodgirl  @laliceee @dlwrish @paetonnn  @lovelysizzlingbluebird   @reas-writing  @buttercupcookies-blog @acidcasualties @alialiclouds 

@buckybarneslovesteve @evelyn-rathmore

[hanasnx]

"scuffling."

MINORS DNI 18+

WC: 0.8k | CHARACTERS: carmy berzatto x gn!reader NOTES: for @mcondance i do not write for carmy, pls do not talk to me about him. i just felt generous enough for a gift and ive seen the first season of the bear and a bit of the second. WARNINGS: sexual content | severe impact play | violence | not proofread | not 100% confident on carmy's characterization | no y/n

CARMY BERZATTO knows he's got a lot of shit going on in his head. Too much to keep track of, stray thoughts that can't be pinned down. When he's overwhelmed, everything's heightened. Like an attack dog, a ringing in his ears calls him back to his trainer. Except he's got no trainer, he's got no one. He's got him. It's not that that ringing makes him aggressive, it's not a Pavlov, that ringing reminds him of how he gets when he's angry. Exasperation layering over itself, building the tsunami. He's been told he's a dick, that he's a real asshole when he gets like this. But no one else is inside his head.

Not like you, anyway. You're about as close as they come, and you don't even know it. He doesn't know how you do it. You absorb that wrath— and you may come out swinging— but you never leave the kitchen. Miraculously, you don't quit. Even when he thinks you should. Even after he's thrown your experimental crème fraîche onto the floor. You hounded after him, but you still got your ass back to work.

"Are you sure about this?" he asks, one more time. Just to be sure. Even though he's boiling over, arms pulsing as he forms fists and shakes them out.

You don't give him an answer. Behind the Beef it's dark out, but you've waited all day to give him a piece of your mind. Well, a piece of you at least. The entire power of your body is put behind a punch, but he jerks out of the way. The knuckle of your thumb grazes the skin of his cheek, and now he's in your space. Rough hands shove at your chest, slamming your back into the concrete wall. The bones of your spine rattle against it, and you reorient too late. He grabs your shoulders, bringing you in to connect his knee to your stomach. You double over, clutching it.

Through strain, you manage a chuffed, "Fuck you, Carmy,"

"Fuck me? Fuck me? C'mon," That roar in his ears is unbearable, driving his actions, taunting you with beckoning hands. In his distraction, you throw another punch that he, again, dodges. "Haven't learned—" His own grunt interrupts him as the point of your elbow sling-shots into the back of his head. Falling forward, his eyes squeeze shut, but he runs into you. So his arms wrap around your torso as he goes down, his shoulder sinking into your chest as you land underneath him on the ground. It's cold, it's hard. Your head aches.

He picks himself up, straddling you. Adrenaline imbued within your beings, blood rushing to fill out everything. Every vein itching to be stretched and used. You weakly claw at him that, for the most part, he redirects by slapping your wrists away. When you get a hold of the straps of his apron, you yank him down, and he catches himself over you. The heels of his hands dig into grovel, scratching up his skin. In a last ditch effort, you jerk your head up, forehead-to-forehead, both of you suffer after impact. A joint groan of pain sounds between the two of you, and in his haze you roll him over. You see red, pressing your lips into a thin line, blowing hot air through flared nostrils. A pink mark blooms on his skin where your heads connected, and your fists bang against his chest.

It becomes a game of rolling around in the fucking dirt and grime, filthying yourselves in the scuffle. Until in between hitting each other, you're tearing at clothes. Prying open buckles and buttons. Fingers brace onto your hips, restricting your movements, burning you from his grip as you take it upon yourself to mount him. In the middle of this fucking alley, you're sinking down onto his cock. And when he tells you to quit fucking around, you grace him with a resounding slap.

His large hand plants on your face, shoving you backwards unceremoniously. "Watch it!" he tells you. His teeth bite into the skin past his lower lip as he throws his head back.

"Shut the fuck up." you chide, resuming the rhythm of your hips. Acting like you fucking needed this as you double over, fisting his shirt for purchase, winding your fingers in it tight as you ride him. He palms your tailbone, slamming you down deep onto him.

"I should fucking kill you—" Your hand claps against his mouth to quiet him.

"I don't wanna fucking hear your voice right now, just take it."

[silentsneezes]

ive recently become obsessed with g/ood/ o/mens (especially c/rowley) so here’s a little 2.2k cold fic i wrote!

if anyone is interested in exchanging snzcanons/writing prompts lmk! also my inbox is open if anyone has requests :)

with that said, enjoy! (sorry for any grammatical or spelling errors- i only proofread this once)

Crowley had been having a truly awful day; First, he’d woken up with a splitting headache and a throat like sandpaper.

Then, much to his disapproval, he realized that his newest plant had attracted fruit flies.

After spending a good ten minutes swatting at various flies, he gave up, huffing in resignation and making a mental note to buy fly traps. His throat burned too badly for him to yell at the plant, but he assured it that there would be a punishment.

Eventually, Crowley took to sitting at his desk and glaring at the flies buzzing around, slamming a book on any fly that dared to land on his desk.

And - most annoyingly - Crowley kept sneezing. At first, the demon didn’t mind. A few sneezes here and there weren’t uncommon, but it proved to be more than just a few.

As Crowley was snuffling into his sleeve, the black phone on his desk rang harshly. The demon sniffed deeply and cleared his throat, ignoring the painful burning sensation, “Hello?” he drawled, interally cursing the obvious congestion in his voice.

“Hello dear,” Aziraphale’s voice sounded through the phone, and Crowley grinned; he would always be happy to hear from the angel, regardless of how shitty he might feel, “I was wondering if I could ask for a favor,” he explained, sounding sheepish.

Crowley’s surprise was evident as he replied, but his response was genuine nonetheless, “Of course, always.”

As Crowley answered, he felt a faint burning sensation form in the back of his sinuses. He pressed a finger against his septum, hoping to quell the itch.

“Well you see,” Aziraphale started explaining his predicament- something to do with the way his books were arranged- as the burning sensation moved towards the front of Crowley’s nose, making his nostrils quiver with anticipation.

The demon quickly pinched his nose between his thumb and forefinger to squash a sneeze into complete silence, cringing as his vision blurred momentarily. He released his nose, sniffing experimentally and feeling relieved that the single stifle was enough to quell the itch.

“-So I was wondering if you’d like to come to the shop and lend a hand?,” Aziraphale proposed, “I just got the loveliest merlot!”

“Well, I can’t say no to a nice bottle of wine, can I?” Crowley replied, but both he and Aziraphale knew he’d go regardless of whether or not there was wine; as long as his angel was there.

“Splendid!”

Crowley could practically hear Aziraphale’s smile through the phone, “I’ll be there at seven,” he said before fumbling to hang up the phone. He pitched to the side, a sneeze suddenly tearing through him.

“hh’HRRTDSCH!”

He scowled at the spray that landed on his lap, unable to cover in time, “Fugk me,” he groaned.

Crowley glanced at his watch: 5:42. ‘How is it already that late?’ he thought, wondering how many hours he’d spent sitting at his desk in a feverish haze.

He knew that he should start getting ready, but his body seemed to have other ideas. The demon was suddenly all too aware of the way his legs and feet throbbed, even as he sat; his body ached, his nose felt raw, and his head felt like it could explode at any moment.

He groaned, leaning his head against the cool, sleek desk and letting his eyes fall shut. It took everything in him to get up and saunter over to the bathroom.

“hh-,” Crowley’s breath started hitching as he peeled off his shirt, tossing it to the side and tugging off his pants. As he was taking off his boxers, he pitched forwards with a small onslaught of sneezes, “hH’ITSCHH! heHSZCHEW! heh- hh… HRRSCHHh!”

The sneezes left him panting, bent over at the waist with one hand placed on a nearby wall for support. He clambered into the shower, turning it as hot as possible and letting the water run over his face.

The demon rubbed harshly at his nose, which was already red and raw. Much to his dismay, the appendage twitched, nostrils flaring as the itch returned with a vengeance .

“Fu-heh-fuck…hhheH-EHTSHCIEW!”

He cringed at the mess that sprayed against his chest, blowing his nose productively as the steam loosened the congestion in his sinuses.

Luckily, Crowley managed to make it through the rest of the shower without sneezing- which was quite the accomplishment: his colds have always been accompanied with relentless sneezing.

As soon as Crowley stepped out of the shower, he started shivering. He scowled, pulling on a turtleneck and some black pants; he had decided against wearing sweatpants and a hoodie, despite his desire to feel comfortable.

He glanced at his watch again: 6:19

He was in the shower for longer than he’d realized, enjoying the burning heat of the water. Unfortunately, it hadn’t occurred to him that standing in a hot shower for half an hour would only make his fever worse.

He slumped into his seat, rubbing at his temples and removing his glasses. He caught a glimpse of his reflection in a nearby mirror and cringed. He was visibly sick, and he was sure Aziraphale would notice. He considered calling the angel and canceling, but that wasn’t truly what he wanted (what he wanted, of course, was his angel).

“heh-hh,” Crowley’s breath hitched wildly as the itch suddenly returned, head rearing back and nostrils flaring, “hhhehHITSCHHh!” He snapped forwards with a powerful, unrestrained sneeze, barely managing to cover in time, “fugk me.”

After tending to his nose and washing his hands, he grabbed the keys to the Bentley.

The drive to the bookstore went by in a feverish haze. It was rather uneventful, except for the few times when the car was jerked into the other lane as Crowley bent double with a sneeze (or two).

It didn’t take long for Crowley to pull up in front of the bookshop, parking in his usual spot and clambering out. His head spun as he stepped out of the Bentley, and he had to lean against its black frame to stay upright.

Once he was sure he could stand on his own, he sauntered towards the bookshop, pushing the door open and hearing the familiar bell ring. He frowned when he realized he couldn’t smell; he’d always loved the smell of the store, though he would never admit that.

“I’m afraid we’re closed this evening,” Aziraphale called out in response to the bell’s chiming.

“Well, that’s a shame,” Crowley made a beeline for the plush red chair in the back of the bookstore.

“Oh! Crowley,” Aziraphale replied fondly, emerging from behind a bookshelf and grinning jovially. His smile faltered as he took in the demon’s appearance: his nose was red and bothered, his cheeks flushed, and his eyebags more prominent than usual.

As Crowley took a seat, Aziraphale busied himself with the tea kettle- Crowley was clearly in no condition for wine.

“So, what am I helping with?” Crowley asked, his voice raw and gravely.

‘Oh right, the favor,’ Aziraphale thought; He’d completely forgotten about his book organizing crisis after realizing Crowley was sick.

“It’s nothing, really. Muriel just had some free time and decided to reorganize all the books by color coordination,” despite Aziraphale’s annoyance, he still spoke of Muriel fondly; after all, they were intending to help.

Crowley laughed, which sparked a rough coughing fit, caught in his elbow, “S’cuse me,” he cleared his throat, feeling Aziraphale’s eyes observing him closely.

“Are you feeling alright, Crowley?” Aziraphale asked hesitantly, not wanting to anger or embarass the demon. In fact, he wanted to do quite the opposite; it was taking every ounce of self control not to wrap Crowley in a blanket and tend to his every need.

But that wasn’t part of their arrangement. They were simply an angel and a demon, occasionally exchanging favors and enjoying fine dining at the ritz. Except their arrangement had changed. Their dinners often turned into late nights full of dancing, talking, and laughing. They both sensed the change, but neither mentioned it, not wanting to burst their perfect bubble.

“Never felt better,” Crowley replied, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. His statement was undermined as he sniffled wetly, his body determined to betray him.

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow questioningly, to which Crowley shrugged. The angel sighed, deciding not to push the topic any further.

“So, are we rearranging or not?” Crowley asked, gesturing to the color coordinated bookshelves- which, admittedly, looked pretty nice.

Aziraphale hesitated. As badly as he wanted to reorganize his books, it was clear that Crowley was in no condition, “No, no I don’t think so. I wouldn’t want to undo Muriel’s hard work,” he excused.

Crowley was too distracted by a blooming itch in his nose to notice the angel’s obvious excuse, “hh,” despite his best efforts to quell the itch, his breath started hitching. Aziraphale nearly cooed, but he restrained himself for Crowley’s sake.

“hUTSCHHhew! hh-H’GNZTCH!”

“Bless you,” Aziraphale blessed him out of habit, a seemingly harmless act.

Crowley cursed, ducking back into his elbow, “hKISCHHh! ITSSCHHew!”

“Oh dear, bl-,” Aziraphale started, but Crowley cut him off, speaking through a desperate hitching breath.

“St-heh-stopheh- hhHTSCHH stop it with the blessings,” Crowley snapped, followed by an immediate pang of guilt at Aziraphale’s expression.

“I’m so sorry! I completely forgot about that,” he paused, searching for the right word, “peculiarity of yours.”

He learned early on in their relationship that blessing Crowley simply resulted in more sneezing, but blessing people came so naturally to him, he often did it without thinking.

“It’s alright angel,” Crowley waved a dismissive hand.

“Are you quite sure you’re feeling-,” Aziraphale started, but he was interrupted by the wailing of the tea kettle. Crowley was grateful for the distraction. As Aziraphale turned away to make tea, he used his sleeve to tend to his running nose.

Aziraphale returned a minute later with two cups of tea, smiling warmly as he set one beside Crowley.

“I thought you had a bottle of merlot?” Crowley asked, but he honestly didn’t care: wine would likely make him feel worse.

“Yes, well. We can enjoy that another time,” Aziraphale replied fondly, “But I’m in the mood for tea.”

Crowley rolled his eyes beneath his shades, but he tried the tea nonetheless. It soothed his throat, and he took a second sip, feeling his body relax slightly as the discomfort in his throat lessened.

As he continued drinking his tea, Crowley began to realize how truly miserable he felt; he hadn’t had a cold this bad in ages.

He rushed to set down his tea as a prickling sensation formed in the back of his nose. Aziraphale, noticing his hitching breath, placed a comforting hand on his back. Initially, Crowley tensed under the touch, a low hiss escaping him.

“h’MPDzXt” The stifle grated against his sore throat, and did nothing to please the burning in his sinuses.

Aziraphale rubbed small patterns along Crowley’s back, admiring his somewhat toned physique as his breath continued hitching, “don’t hold them in darling,” he instructed, voice soft.

Crowley whined, rubbing harshly at the itchy appendage. Aziraphale sighed sympathetically, “it’s not going to help if you do it like that.”

“St-heh-stuck,” Crowley managed to say between hitching breaths. It was quite the spectacle: his mouth was ajar, eyebrows knit together, breath hitching, and nose twitching. As sympathetic as Aziraphale was, he also found himself rather attracted to the demon, who seemed entirely helpless as he succumbed to the fit.

“hH-IDZCHUw!-ITSXHHh!”

The double came quickly, bending the demon over into cupped hands.

“heh-hRRSCHHU!”

Crowley was left panting and snuffling into cupped hands, unsure if the fit was truly over.

“You poor thing,” Aziraphale scooted closer to Crowley, pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket and tucking it into Crowley’s grasp. One of the angel’s hands settled on Crowley’s thigh, an expression of comfort for the sickly demon.

Crowley accepted the handkerchief, cleaning himself up before resting his head on Aziraphale’s shoulder.

“Why don’t you stay here tonight,” Aziraphale prompted, “I can take care of you.”

Crowley hesitated, his instincts told him to go: a demon shouldn’t need to be taken care of. Aziraphale sensed this and quickly corrected, “plus, I could use the company. It would be a favor to me, really.”

Crowley considered this, knowing Aziraphale was just being courteous. After a few seconds, he sighed, “Alright, you win angel. I’ll stay.”

Aziraphale smiled widely, “Splendid. I’ll get us some more tea,” he made to stand, but Crowley wrapped his arms around the angel’s waist, holding him in place.

Aziraphale blushed, “Uhm, Crowley. Would you mind-.”

The demon cuts him off, voice tired and gravely, “Yes, I would.” He tightens his grip around the angel, burying his face in Aziraphale’s neck and letting the fatigue he’d been fighting set in.

“Okay darling,” Aziraphale agreed, settling in and running his fingers through Crowley’s hair.

It didn’t take long for the demon to fall asleep, and eventually, Aziraphale found himself dozing off as well. They stayed curled up on the couch all evening, the angel watching over his sick ‘friend’ carefully.

that’s all for now! i’ll likely write more for the in/effable h/usbands (im more comfortable writing c/rowley as the snzer, but if anyone has prompts with a/ziraphale, i’d be happy to try)

[baalzebufo]

good ol fashioned razzmatazz

SO I wrote more... :) ive wanted to do a series of scenes from Gideon's life for a while now- moments in time we didn't see in the show. mostly past, maybe some present or future, depending. wanted to explore his life a little more, and the headcanons ive got surrounding it. drabbles is the best way to solve this because i cant write one long cohesive plot very well haha

ive got a handful of ideas in mind but this is the first one that i finished to any degree. just a little scene from his childhood. gideon makes his first sale, and learns something about himself.

‘What are you up to, sweetie?’

‘Shh- it’s a secret.’

Gideon hushed his mother as he ran over to the back door and shoved his face up against it, peering out through the frosted glass window into the car lot. His mother, Florence, turned her attention away from the oven for a moment to squint at him. He was wearing his favorite dress shirt, the dark blue one covered in golden stars- shorts and sandals for the weather, and his long hair was pulled back into a white braid. The sun caught on his hair through the window, and she could have sworn she saw it sparkle. What a strange little boy they had, she thought.

---

She remembers how tiny he was when she first held him, and how odd his shock of white hair had been. Odder still when she first saw the icy blue eyes he had- not like hers or Bud’s, not at all. Neither of them had even heard of what the doctors diagnosed him with before then. Some sort of ‘congenital condition’, for whatever that meant. All that fancy medical talk was a bit out of her area of expertise. All that mattered to her was that their little boy was alive- and now, at least on his way to better health.

Their little Gideon had been much more adventurous these days. Ever since the doctors had given him the OK during his last hospital visit, he’d seemingly been itching to get outside. He hummed loudly, like he was deep in thought.

Florence smiled. She reached over to the fridge.

‘Well, if you aren’t too busy with your secrets, could you do me a favor?’

‘Hm?’ He whipped his head over to look at his mother, who was holding a little tupperware container.

‘How about you go across the lot and take this to your dad for me?’

The wheels turned for a moment, and Gideon perked up instantly.

‘Y’mean it? On my own?’

‘Of course, hon. As long as you’re careful-’

He nodded, a smile creasing his face. Oh- she couldn’t help it, every time he smiled, she smiled too. Surely every mother thinks their child is the cutest kid on the planet, but well… she KNEW hers was. And she knew that they’d been very protective of him these past few months, what with the hospital scare and all. As much as she fretted about his health- she made a mental note to deep clean his room again this weekend- she couldn’t squash that spirit behind his eyes. It couldn’t hurt to let him out on his own for a little bit.

He took the container from her hands and tucked it under one of his arms, nodding solemnly.

‘Ah’ll handle it, ma’am!’ He stood up straight and gave a little salute, his face faux-stern, and she couldn’t help but laugh. He’d been watching too much TV lately, bless him.

She waved him off as he skittered out of the door, turning her attention back to the oven.

---

Gideon shielded his eyes from the afternoon sun. The worst of his sensitivity to it may have gone away with the treatments, but it still got awful bright out in summer. But he’d power through it. After all, he had a mission.

He took off at a run down the winding garden path, rushing through the gate onto the concrete car lot. The weather was hot, but there was that fresh summer breeze blowing in his face that made him glad to be out of his room. He liked it in there plenty- he had books and instruments and more toys than he knew what to do with- but being cooped up in bed for so long had him yearning for the outdoors. He squinted, spying the towering figure of his father through the light glinting off the windows of his work building.

Giggling, he sprinted across the lot as fast as his legs could carry him into the shop.

‘Dad!’ He burst through the door, startling his father. Bud Gleeful whipped around from where he was sat across a little plastic table with a skinny spectacled gentleman, poring over a contract. He wore a battered looking old suit but held himself with an oddly aristocratic air. He seemed out of place on a used car lot.

‘Woah there, sunshine-’ Bud started, his sentence cut off with an oof- as Gideon jumped onto his lap. ‘Heavens, boy! What’s gotten into you?’

Gideon looked up at him- and then across the table to his latest customer. He had put the contract down and was looking down at the two of them, a smile creasing his cheeks. Bud raised a hand, a little embarrassed. ‘Oh my, I’m mighty sorry for the interruption, sir-’

‘Oh, no. It’s quite alright.’ He laughed- he had that fancy city-folk accent, Gideon noticed. He tilted his head to the side to get a better look at him. ‘Now who is this fine little fellow?’

‘Oh, well this is-’

‘Gideon!’ He piped up, folding his hands across his lap with a smile. ‘Gideon Charles Gleeful!’

‘Haha- yep. That’s my lil’ Gideon.’ Bud finished for him, resting one big hand on his son's shoulder. ‘This is my son. Little fella ain’t been too well recently, but he’s lookin’ fit as a fiddle now. Acting it, too! Well now, why’d you rush over here in such a hurry, boy? Does your mother know you’re-’

‘Oh, yeah! I brought ya’ this from mom.’ He held out the container to Bud, who picked it up- turned it over, then hummed in understanding.

‘Hah, oh yeah. I s’pose I did almost forget about lunch, all caught up in negotiatin’.’ He mused. ‘Thank you kindly, sweetheart.’ He leant down to kiss his forehead, which Gideon responded to by playfully swatting him away.

The moment was interrupted then by the man across the table clearing his throat. Gideon and Bud both turned their attention back to him.

‘Mr. Gleeful, I have to be honest- I wasn’t sure if this was the right car for me, a few minutes ago. Forgive me for my bluntness, but I was worried this place might not be… on the up-and-up, if you catch my drift.’ Gideon felt his fathers hand slip off his shoulder, a subtle change in his demeanor.

‘But… well, seeing you here- you seem like a real family man, Mr. Gleeful. Trustworthy. I’m sorry for doubting you.’ He chuckled. ‘I suppose I thought this contract might be too good to be true for a moment there.’

‘Nah, dad’s the best at this stuff!’ Gideon piped up- he felt Bud tense up for a second, about to hush him, but he carried on. ‘I’m gonna learn to sell cars just as good as his, someday! So you can tell yer kids to come buy from me!’

Bud held his breath a moment, but then the customer burst out laughing.

‘Oh- goodness, how sweet. You know what, Gideon? I’ll have to remember that.’

‘That’ll be Mr. Gleeful to you!’

Bud picked him up then, lifting himself out of his chair and carrying his son high up to perch on his shoulder. ‘Okay, that’s enough teasing, boy-’

‘Haha! No, no, he’s got it right.’ The skinny man stood too, pushing his glasses up his nose. ‘You know what? You’ve got yourself a sale, Mr. Gleeful.’

He held his hand out- up, above Bud’s, to Gideon. He grasped it firmly, grinning ear to ear and shook his hand. The gentleman nodded his head, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a crisp 20 dollar bill.

‘Forgive me for being forward- but may I give the young man a commission?’

Bud startled, glancing at it- then back to Gideon- then back to the money. ‘Oh, my- that’s awful kind of you sir, it certainly is! Of course you can.’

Gideon’s eyes lit up. He eagerly took the twenty, held it up to the light- then slipped it into his pocket. He squirmed- a sign for Bud to pick him up and let him down on the floor again- and stood up straight with his arms folded.

‘Thanks, sir!’ He chirped, and Bud leant down to pat the top of his head.

‘Now Gideon, do you think you could let the grown-ups handle the borin’ part of all this paperwork?’ He crouched to smile at his son.

‘Sure thing.’

‘Alright, sweetpea. Don’t spend your money all in one place, y’hear?’

‘Okay, dad!’

His mission complete, Gideon padded over to the door- leant over his shoulder to wave at the man his father was now pushing a pen into the hand of- and left the room.

Stopping on the sun-soaked car lot, he reached into his pocket and felt the dollar again. Thought about the look on that man's face when he gave him the money, for nothing but a few words and a smile. His dad had a pretty easy job, he figured. But he didn’t really understand the whole sales thing- not yet, at least.

---

Gideon would spend the rest of the day playing in the garden- until he got too hot and tired, and retreated back to his shaded room for a nap. He wouldn’t think too much about what happened that day.

But that night, his father would take them out to the diner and boast loudly about how his son- barely in his fifth year!- had made his first ever sale. He’d let him order dessert- seconds, too. And he’d ask Gideon to stop by the lot more often, especially if he wants to learn to be a salesman someday. He was one talented boy, his parents told him. Showered him with that notion, really. He was destined to be a big shot one day with a personality as glowing as his.

'You have a face folks would never say no to!' His father told him. He didn't mean much when he said it- more of a joke than anything. But something about it settled with Gideon, still learning about the world. Nobody would say no to him, huh...?

He figured that sounded pretty nice.

[ohgodmyeyes]

Hi dad... im 20 and trans in the us and i have no idea what to do with myself... ive heard from family up in canada that things are also bad there... im just so scared how are you coping? i dont know what to do and dont really have anyone else to talk to in my family theyre all hardcore trump supporters. sorry for telling you all this i just dont know where else to turn... i hope youre well though despite everything happening right now

hey! ❤️ I'm almost 40 and definitely-not-cis, and I'm not sure what to do with myself either. we've got a jerk up here who's itching to call an election and try to form his very own ass-kissing Vichy knockoff just in time to roll out the red carpet for Leon Cocksucker and his new Führer; conservative premiers (provincial governors) have already been testing the waters re: health care and bodily autonomy; and at all levels of government, they're threatening to invalidate our charter rights via the abuse of a heretofore rarely-used mechanic intended solely for emergencies.

i genuinely believed that this was all going to turn out differently, but it hasn't, and facism spreads a lot like a cold. Canada likes to pretend to be cool but really we're just an annoying little sibling... which our collective behaviour tends to reflect, oftentimes not for the better.

by Canadian standards I'm kind of garbage, but by global standards my life is pretty charmed; i've known for a long time that it wasn't entirely sustainable, but i genuinely didn't believe I'd have the rug pulled out from under me quite like this. in retrospect i've been watching it happen my whole life, but the recent acceleration has been really — well, not surprising, but... it's been something.

anyway, i'm going on — what I really meant to say was "holy shit I'm sorry you're stuck with people like that" and "please focus on keeping yourself safe, because that has just become your primary obligation". not that it was a picnic before, but being trans just got a lot more difficult. it was supposed to "get better" — but frankly it hasn't; not meaningfully, and i'm horrified that we've let it get this bad.

not that it can't get better again — but we kind of all dropped the ball (i mean us oldish people especially), and now we have to pick up again. print out and save gay and trans stories; write down your own stories; research the past and preserve it for as long as it's available to you. strike a balance between being safe and being yourself, because while visibility just became more dangerous, it also just became that much more important.

months ago, i took my pride pin off of my bag; i hated doing it, but people are becoming increasingly abrasive, and (selfishly, certain caveats notwithstanding) I didn't want to attract any negative attention. i regret that decision now, for as much fuss as it might have spared me, and so i think I might consider putting it back on soon. maybe that will be part of coping; maybe it will help someone; maybe it will be ineffective or even harmful... but like you, I'm not sure what else to do right now. not in light of what's just happened.

things had already been a bit tough, and this isn't exactly helping, but knowing that i'm not alone in grieving what we've lost counts for something. i'm bad at people (VERY bad, like disability-cheque-bad), but none of us can afford to be an island anymore... so i actually can't thank you enough for reaching out. you've probably helped me more than I've helped you, but i hope there's something in this that resonates and makes you feel less alone anyway... because you're not, not at all, even though i'm sure it feels like it in the midst of that hellscape.

i'm going to go watch star wars now, maybe write something... but i'm still here.

someone smart once told me that if it isn't okay, then it just means it isn't over yet. i believe them. we'll make it because we have to; what other choice do we have?

[maryannecrimsworth]

Version 1 of the sequel of Only Silence(without you), honestly super duper excited, THE SONG FOR THIS IS "Billie Eilish - Happier than Ever". Ive already talked about it in the reblog of OSWY but ill be putting it in summarized form instead of ramble form.

Wednesday x Singer!Reader

After that last concert in Jericho, you and your crew left without any problems and you started your preparation to move on from Wednesday with putting away that Crystal ball that the Addams Family gifted to you to be in contact with Wednesday, you touch the Crystal ball and reminisce all those talks between you two, you let out a breath that you didnt know you were holding and decided on contacting them to inform them of the break up between you two, anxiety and paranoia would strike you. You think that they will not take it well, you think they will hunt you for breaking up with Wednesday. You take a deep breath and took that leap of faith and called them and informed them of your situation (you decide their reaction, would they be understanding or will they cut you off from their lives), and you also inform them of you putting away the crystal ball and that if they need you, just give you a letter or text.

The fact that the concert was the last one of your tour, you were afraid that with nothing much to do, your head might get filled with thoughts of her, but surprisingly you were a lil inspired so you write and write, compose and compose until you are satisfied. You gave yourself a pat on the back, you have outdone yourself as you knew your song is gonna go big but your grin becomes a melancholic smile. You look up at the ceiling and clench ur fists while letting out a stuttering breath and you lay down and sleep for the night hoping that the night will wash your feelings away.

The next morning you ask your manager if you could do a live stream Q&A cuz you always liked to do fan interactions. After a few days of pleading, Your manager gave in and you gave a cheer also telling them ur inviting a famous friend. Past forward a week later, everything was prepared and all set up, you and ur friend are side by side answering questions about ur tour and life etc etc. By the end of the stream, you sneakily said that you have a song cooked up and grabbed ur instrument and started singing the song.

(NOW ITS UP TO YOU AUTHOR FOR THIS TO END CUZ LEGIT ive run out of things to type for this and do please have fun -love, Tundra)

After listening very carefully to all the songs you suggested, I chose one --- and this version practically wrote itself. I hope you like this pure sadness

Sequel(1) of Only Silence(Without You) / Sequel (2)

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Singer! Gn! Reader

Warning: Memories; heart-break; moving on; sad end; reader pranks the local church(no offense directed at any religion, it's just the reader's background)

Author's note: This is the Version 1(aka angsty end). There will be an Version 2(aka hurt and comfort) soon

I am alone(In The Stars)

Reason.

That was what Wednesday kept looking for: reason. 

For what reason did she remain quiet? For what reason did she ignore your letters, your calls? For what reason did she choose Tyler, for what reason did she kiss him, knowing his lips would never taste like yours? Why did she ruin you, you two — her everything. 

The person who never cheated, lied, or used her — you were always there for her, no matter what; bad or good, criminal or legal, and now you weren’t. 

You were not by her side, and you would never be again. You were her partner, a part of her life — a part of her, and now you are missing. 

Now you are gone, far away and her day feels empty. She sits on the last seat of the empty church, and her body shivers as her mind remembers you. She itches, scratches, trembles like she’s sick, like something has been violently ripped from her — like a phantom limb lingering, hurting, aching, screaming and bawling in despair, even though it is not really there. And this is what hurts: its absence, your absence. You are missing. She misses you. 

And the church's quiet inside just made her notice how empty she felt without you. 

Sunday mornings were your favorite

I used to meet you down on Woods Creek Road

It was almost comical how you behaved. Every single week, every single Sunday, you would sneak into the church — under the priest’s nose, to your aunt’s disgrain — and watch the saints and symbols as if they were real deities. As if your father could be among them, singing with the choir, listening to the sermon, watching and praying like you were. Then someone would yawn, a teen would scoff, an old man would curse and you were shattered. The deities disappeared, being placed with pale, old statues, as you stood up and laughed. You laughed loudly, scornfully, wickedly and the whole church would look at you. The priest would grasp your arm as you shoot questions at him, your aunt would slap you in the face and take you out of the temple. It was your theater, your show, your little spectacle to make all the believers shiver and tremble in their feet. To make them regret rejecting you and your father — to make them remember what you have done on your first day in the city. On the day you first met her. 

Your posture was as straight and confident as always: you were not older than 10, but you lifted your chin and watched the people in the funeral as if they were plebs, farseers, as if they were worms. Worms crawling up to your father’s corpse, on display in the middle of the pulpit — you despised them, you despised their hypocrisy, you despised how they pretended to care after kicking your father out of town. After expelling a man in need, a man with a newborn — you — and acting as if they were right, as if they had the right to do it. 

No deity would allow this, no deity would accept believers this dissembling — no deity would allow its followers to sin like this in complete silence. 

So you broke the silence — you interrupted your aunt's speech of empty, lying words — you made the statues sing and sob while the believers turned pale. The symbols and faces you always look at sang in a motionless choir — the Saints spoke and rebuked their bad testimonies, Virgin Mary and Baby Jesus scolded all the relatives you have never talked to. Your family trembled and cried, begging the heavens to stop, begging for forgiveness, promising they would be better — the priest was in despair, and screams took over the church until your laughter arose. Sitting next to Wednesday, hidden by her side, watching the chaos with her, you were witnessing your own show from outside, feeling pleasure for the despair of your family. 

And before she could notice, Wednesday was laughing too. Your aunt got you before you could talk to her — but you saw her. You heard her low laugh and turned your head in an abrupt motion, and you saw her. You smiled at her while you were being dragged out of the church.

You did your hair up like you were famous

Even though it's only church where we were goin'

That was where she met you. That was where she always met you — at church, on the Sunday morning, and she would watch your show, your display of anger and revolt, and she would smirk back at you as you were being kicked out of the temple once again. In the beginning, you were testing her — you wanted to know if she was truly enjoying your spectacle. She was — and that’s why you kept doing it. 

At church, then at her house; after a few months meeting at the temple, changing nothing but a few glances, you followed her home — to the haunted mansion of the city — and waited for the dusk. When the silence came and the fog arose among the gravestones of the Addams' yard, you started to sing. Your voice sounded like thunder at first, shaking the whole building with a supernatural power. 

“Hello darkness, my old friend!” The singing resounded inside her room, and Wednesday jumped from her seat immediately — her eyes wandered fastly around the place, looking for the source of the song. “I've come to talk with you again.” 

She opened her window and saw you standing in the middle of the garden. 

You were smiling at her. 

You will never sing to her again.

Now, Sunday mornings, I just sleep in

It's like I buried my faith with you

She was the only one in the church now. The funeral was over — the dead had already been buried, the priest had already spoken, the widow had already cried. The sky and nature were mourning — the whole city was quiet, grieving, reminiscing. Ever since you left, silence has taken over everything. Wednesday used to enjoy it, but now it tortured her — now, while the outside was quiet and still, her mind was disrupted by you; by your singings, by your voice, by your serenades and by your letters. By every single part of you she had lost. 

I'm screamin' at a God, I don't know if I believe in

'Cause I don't know what else I can do

‘Ma noirceur’. It was how you signed all your letters: to Ma noirceur. My darkness; that was how you used to call her when you were alone. In front of other people, you called her Nessie, because she was as ‘mysterious and scary’ as the Loch Ness monster — and because it fitted her. An unknown monster, hiding in the depths of water, powerful and lonely, unreachable for the cowards and ordinary — just like her: you saw how Wednesday behaved, how her blank expression was nothing but a barrer, and you smiled at it. “Lucky me” you used to say “that I’m quirky and bold!” 

“You mean dumb and reckless.” She used to argue back. Then you used to laugh and kiss her. 

Used to.

Just like you used to leave messages in the crystal ball she was now holding. 

“My parents have no say in the matter.” Wednesday said to Thing after watching him gesticulate. “Neither do you.” She shoved him out of the bench; he fell to the ground and signed angrily to her. “Leave me alone.” She ordered, without lowering her gaze to him — without letting her watery eyes be seen. 

The air in the graveyard behind the church was even heavier than before; the oxygen was thick, cold, a warning of the coming storm. The heavens were about to cry, to tear up, to paint the whole city with their melancholy and grieve — and still, they were silent. The clouds moved fastly in the sky, but there was not a sound in the air: no wind blowing, no rain dropping, no branch cracking. There was only Wednesday and you, inside her mind. 

I'm still holdin' on to everything that's dead and gone

I don't wanna say goodbye, 'cause this one means forever

In days like this, sad, cloudy Sundays, you would take her home after church, and stay: you would smile and make her parents laugh with your awful jokes; you would teach Pugsley some of your worst prank; you would arm-wrestle Thing, and lose every time; you would nag Lurch until he played the piano while you sang for all of them; you would woke up all the spirits of the cemetery with your voice and all the Addams would watch your performance; then you would say good night, and leave the house for a few minutes. The rain would fall, the grass would turn to mud and Wednesday would look out of her window. And she would see you there, sitting under a dry tree, waiting for her.

“You will die under this rain.” She said, stepping slowly closer to you. 

“I will only die in your arms, Ma noirceur.” You reached her, and she moved like she had done so many times before: she sat by your side as your arms enfolded her tightly. “That’s better.” You whispered in her ear, your hot breath reaching her face as she turned to look at you. The water falling down on both of you froze your bodies, you were cold, trembling, soaked, and yet, somehow, your voice made her core burn; her face flamed while you smiled at her. But you were kind — you never stared at her for too long, you never laughed or talked about her blushed cheeks, you never asked her to hug you back; you simply held her as the sky collapsed above you. 

You flinched every time a lighting shone on the heavens, and your hands loosened around her ever so slightly. 

She never knew — and she would never know — if you did it on purpose. If moving away after embracing her so kindly was some kind of intentional torture. Because, for her, it was: her skin shivered as you distanced yourself, and she grasped you closer in a reflex. In an urge. In a need she would only show to you — only then, under the rain, when the sounds of the thunders and whispers of the winds sounded like the most beautiful choir around you. When, under her touch, you were hers, and hers alone; When you smiled while her lips found yours.

While her world spinned at the perfect pace, even though her heart was beating like never before. 

You tasted cold, soaked yet sweet; natural, like dew, and her head got light once you moved slightly away.

“I love you, Wednesday Addams.” You spoke between laughs before kissing her again. 

You were completely different from Tyler. 

Tyler’s lips were warm, bitter, almost dry. His kiss made her stomach churn as yours torched her whole skin. He opened her eyes while you could keep her in the dark forever. 

Now she missed it: she missed the darkness, she missed the rain, she missed you.

The storm wasn’t the same without you. The silence reigned without you by her side. It was torture, of the worst kind. 

Then she asked herself again: for what reason?

For what reason did she make you go forever?

Now you're in the stars and six-feet's never felt so far

Here I am alone between the heavens and the embers

“The dead will miss you, my dearest.” Morticia sounded sad. It was disturbing to hear such a sweet, calm voice speaking like this. Like you were dead. You felt like you were — and now, you were indeed dead for the Addams. No matter how much you loved Gomez, Morticia and Pugsley, you couldn’t handle seeing them. You couldn’t bear talking and laughing with them while every single thing made you remember Wednesday — made you remember the boy she kissed while ignoring your letters. Made you remember her betrayal. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to meet one last time?” Meet her. Gomez was still hoping for a reconciliation between you two. “You can always come here, you know that, mi cariño.” 

“I know, sir, and I appreciate it.” Gomez frowned as you spoke. You haven't called him "sir" in years. “But I don’t think Wednesday would like it.” You tried to smile, but failed. Tears were about to fall from your eyes again. “I’m really sorry but I think…I think it’s really over.” You whispered. “Please send Pugsley my goodbye.”

You lost Wednesday. Now you lost your family too. 

“We will, Y/N.”

“Adíos.”

Oh, it hurts so hard

For a million different reasons

You took the best of my heart

And left the rest in pieces

“Come on, Y/N!” Your friend held your feet and dragged you across the bedroom floor. “We didn't make your manager go through hell to back off now!”

“I hate you!” You grunted from the ground, your voice muffled by your hands. “Let me suffer.” You whined. “This is what makes a good artist!”

“Exactly! Turn this into something!” 

You took your hands off your face.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean ‘stop crying and get yourself together!’” She grabbed you by your shoulders and made you sit up. “Let’s answer the questions from the fans and then you can play your new song.” Your friend held your face, forcing you to look at her. “Please.” She pleaded. “I haven’t heard your voice in days.”

“I don’t have a new song.” You mumbled.

“You do. I know you do!” She bit her lips, shaking her head in order to not shake you. “Get. Up.”

A week. You were in your bedroom for a week now and you wrote like never before. You have already done most of your new album. There was only one song missing — the song you have been mulling inside your head over and over again, incapable of singing it. You remained in silence for days because you could not force yourself to sing it — you could not say goodbye for her, not yet. 

But you had to. 

“HELL YES!” Your friend cheered as you stood up. “I’ll grab your guitar!”

I'm still holdin' on

Holdin' on, holdin' on

Your phone vibrated inside your coat’s pocket. You saw the screen and frowned immediately: an unknown number.

The call was answered and you held the phone to your ear.

“Hi, Y/N.”

Wednesday. 

“I…I have to…” 

You closed your eyes — a tear ran down your cheek as your breath faltered. Your whole body trembled as you struggled to remain in silence. 

“Y/N?”  You put the cell phone away. “Are you there?”

You ended the call.

I'm still holdin' on to everything that's dead and gone

I don't wanna say goodbye 'cause this one means forever

Now you're in the stars and six-feet's never felt so far

Here I am alone between the heavens and the embers

Wednesday continued to sit alone, watching the rain fall over the cemetery while your friend returned with the camera and your guitar. She stayed silent as questions and likes popped up

on your cell phone screen. The rain mingled with her tears as your eyes finally dried. 

It was over. It was over.

The last question from your fans finally made you accept it. 

“Any new song?” Your friend read the question on the screen. You were already holding your guitar by the time she turned around to smile at you. “What is your answer, Y/N L/N?”

You started to sing. 

It was your goodbye.

Oh, it hurts so hard

For a million different reasons

You took the best of my heart

Left the rest in pieces

@tundra1029 @unknownvibesve @carolcunha7 @myfturn

[lunawritesaa]

— — > 4 years later..

honestly four years is absolutely crazy for me to fathom. i can’t believe it’s been that long since i took the plunge and decided to start writing for ace attorney. it feels like just yesterday i sat down and said “yeah.. i love this silly lawyer game” and started this blog.

-> so whats going on with this blog?

well, the long and the short of it is i don’t enjoy writing anymore. every now and then i get a small desire to write, but it fades so fast. i do miss it! i miss fulfilling requests, i miss mini headcanon mondays, i miss talking with people about my favorite game of all time!

but.. i got tired of it. if you’ve ever ran a writing blog, you’ll know that you can only write so many requests before you feel like you’ve written the same thing over. and over.

don’t get me wrong, i absolutely loved every second and every thing that i wrote. i have no regrets! i just don’t have that drive that 16 y/o luna had.

-> where have i been?

uhhh graduating college! i got my degree and have been job hunting, trying to get my life started. honestly, college took up the majority of my time these past few months. and now that i’ve graduated, my life is ramping up!

so, as much as i want to write again, i just simply do not think ill have the time. its unfortunate, i know. i see all your little notes in the reblogs and i appreciate the love and support on everything ive written. i just dont think writing is in the cards for me anymore

oh, i also got a dog and named her maya. she has a burger plush that she loves :3

-> what will happen with this blog?

i’ll leave it up. i debated deleting it a few times because it occasionally brought back bad memories. but so many people still follow, like, and reblog everything that i can’t bring myself to delete it. especially with the scraps of aa content that’s already out there lmaoo (trust me i was scraping the bottom of the barrel for content when i finished soj)

will i check back in? yeah occasionally. i have been for months. i just wont write.

————

i’m sorry to anyone who was hoping for me to one day come back. believe me, no one wanted me to come back more than me. i miss that itch, that drive to pump out content. writing just isn’t something i’ve done for a while.

i still love ace attorney. i beat the new trilogy about a month ago now and i loved every second, despite having played all three games before lol! there’s so much charm and love to the series.

i still would love to gush and talk more about it. i’ve thought about making a twitter account several times because i can be more active on there. so if anyone is interested lemme know! i can post on there and still interact with everyone.

but as for this blog - it’s time to adjourn court!

thank you for the lovely four years. and thank you for nearly 600 followers, my goodness! i love you all, and i treasure the love that has, and was, given to me.

- with love, luna <3

———