#no idea where this came from but here it is

[sweettea-and-honeybutter]

Sweet Dreams

A/N: You read my mind anon 💕 I'm not normally a fluffy sweet gal but this idea came to me, and every time I sat down to work on it, I would get stuck reading another and then another amazing Terry fic on here 😮‍💨 shout out to @megamindsecretlair the first Terry fic I read on here was written by her and now here I am, feral and unhinged 😃

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Reader

Summary: Terry has night terrors, luckily he's found you and his love for you keeps him grounded

Genre/Warning: I mean yeah it's sweet and fluffy but y'all know me. 18+, minors kindly fuck off. Oral (f & m receiving), overstimulation (boffum cause they're equally matched)

Also I had this song on repeat writing it...

Please let me know what you think ☺️

Terry’s body was so tense, muscles spasming even in his sleep. His mind was stuck on a painful loop, replaying nightmares he lived and torturing him with tragedy after tragedy. This was familiar to him. He often came to this dream-like purgatory, so he’d trained his mind to pull himself out, fighting against the waves of grief to force himself awake.

He came to with a quiet “shit” escaping from his twitching lips. His fists were balled tightly and his skin was slightly damp from the torment his mind insists on putting him through. His heart was racing and he could feel a panic attack creeping up his stiff spine. Trying to slow his breathing down and ground himself, he focused on his 5 senses to bring him back to reality. 

His eyes locked on the ceiling fan, bringing his attention to the way the cool breeze in the room soothed his heated skin. He could hear your soft breathing next to him, and his heartbeat finally started to calm down some. He turned his head to look at you and inhaled deeply, allowing your sweet cinnamon spiced vanilla scent to comfort the raging emotions inside of him.

His whole body sagged against your bed in relief. Finally able to embrace the reality of being here, in your home, in your bed, with you peacefully resting next to him. His face softened staring at you, thick lips curving upwards with contentment taking in your form. You were on your back just like him, comforter pushed down past your knees from where you kick them when you overheat in the middle of the night. In just his US Marine shirt that you seemed to drown in and a satin scarf. Pretty face relaxed in the most peaceful expression. His heartbeat evened out, all was right in his world. 

He realized he left one of his senses neglected. Taste. He glanced over at his water on your nightstand then back at you. Water would do absolutely nothing for him right now. His mouth is watering for the peace he knows he’ll find nestled between your soft thighs. Moving stealthily like a feline in the night, he crept over to your side of the bed, careful to not jostle you awake. He pushed the comforter completely off the bed, and settled in between your spread legs. You wore nothing underneath his large t shirt, and your scent was more rich here, making his hunger for you more intense. 

He watched your chest rise and fall for a moment, then kissed his way up both your thighs, his beard softly grazing your skin making you shift. His nose nudged the shirt up the higher he kissed, and he heard you release a sigh, legs shifting slightly, spreading and unintentionally inviting him in deeper into your aura. He moved slowly, half of him wanting to let you rest, the other half of him growing surprisingly needy the more he inhaled your sweet scent. 

His shirt now resting on your tummy, you were exposed to him, and he paused to admire you. He’s convinced you’re made for him. Your energy keeping him anchored while his mind healed from life knocking him down more than enough times, your beauty making the walls he built around himself crumble at just the sight of you, your body perfectly taking him in and calming his storm. He was yours completely now, and you don’t even know the power you have over him.

Eyes locked on your face, he brought his plump lips to your own, leaving soft kisses all over your mound. You moaned and shifted again, slightly raising one knee, giving him enough room to hook a strong arm underneath your thigh. His other hand came up to gently part your folds, and he softly blew on your clit to wake her up. 

“Terry…” your voice was thick with sleep, eyes still shut, your breathing was coming out unevenly now. His striking eyes stayed glued to your face, and he watched you let out a sharp gasp as he lazily ran his tongue from your hole to your now very hard clit. 

“Terry!” He smiled into you at your agonized moan, giving you another long deliberate lick, finally satisfying his tastebuds with your essence.

“Take the shirt off, I want to see you.” He gave your clit loving, wet kisses, watching you scramble to free yourself from his shirt, and your eyes finally met his once you were bare.

“Good girl.” His eyes gleamed with pride at you willingly and eagerly giving yourself to him, like you always do. He circled your clit with his tongue, trapping it between his lips and moaning at the taste of you. This is exactly what he needed, to be completely consumed by you. 

You brought one hand down to grip his head, whispered pleas leaving you as you bucked into his mouth. He spit on your pussy and slurped it up, delighted by the way your voice gets hoarse the sloppier he eats. 

“Please baby, I need more!” You sounded so sweet and desperate, your eyes begging him to push you over the approaching edge. You loved that he often ate you out for his own pleasure, choosing to spend hours if he wanted to satiating his hunger. But waking up to his handsome face now wet from you, and his muscled arms guiding your hips to grind on his mouth, and hearing his moans as he indulged himself in you, it was too fucking much. “Pleaseee” you begged again.

“S’okay baby, I gotchu” he stopped playing with you then, wanting to enjoy the privilege of tasting your cum. His tongued moved down to start thrusting into your hole, his head moving up and down so his nose would rub against your clit, and you both moaned. You arched into his mouth as his hands soothed their way up your body to play with your nipples, pulling more wetnesses and pathetic noises from you.

“I’m so fucking close baby pleaseeee” and his lips came back up to your clit, sucking it more firmly and moaning around it. He worked his jaw faster and faster, licking and sucking, and his own hips started grinding into the side of the bed, needing to relieve the pressure in his boxers from chasing your high with you.

He pulled back only to tell you to cum for him, and then he messily made out with your pussy, licking up every drop you gave him as he turned you into a whimpering, twitching, cumming mess. His hands smoothed down your curves to grip your hips as his tongue slowed back down to lazy licks. Both of your hands pushed at his head trying to free yourself as he alternated from licking your pussy to your wet thighs, and back again, making sure he got all of you. 

“Okay Terry, okaaay!” You tried pushing harder, you were so sensitive and he was working you up again. He gave you a mischievous smile, eyes darkening with intention.

“You love me?” His voice so deep with desire it was almost a growl.

“Yes! Yes you know I do baby, come on” he chuckled at your high pitched whine, giving you another sweet lick and your hands were frantically clawing at his back, your clit getting overstimulated. “Let me show you how much I do!” He paused and quirked his brow at you before kissing his way up your body. You could feel his large length pressing against you through his boxers as he held himself over you, locking you into his intense gaze.

“Show me.” He pressed his lips onto yours and you moaned at the distinct taste of you as he slipped his tongue into your mouth. Your right leg and arm attached to him, holding on tightly and your left leg and arm pushed against the bed, never breaking the kiss as you guided him to lay on his back. Now on top of his sturdy body, your hands smoothed over his muscles and you grind your hips down on him, teasing him through his boxers. His hands came to grip your round ass firmly, giving it a playful jiggle and nipping at your bottom lip with his sharp teeth.

Your hand grips his jaw lightly, and you turn his head, finding that spot just under his ear that always gets you what you want. You give that spot a sweet, wet kiss, and you feel his hold on your ass tighten, making you grind harder on him. 

“I’m in charge now big guy” you suck on his neck, marking him for the world to see, and you miss the content smile on his face. He’s all too happy being yours. You make your way down his body, you roles reversed now, kissing as you go a paying attention to the spots that make him softly grunt and groan with pleasure.

Once you reach his boxers, you slowly stroke the thickness there, looking up at him from under your lashes. His hands were under his head, biceps bulging beautifully, and his eyes were closed with a small smile on his thick lips. He looked so damn handsome, and so peaceful, and so unaware of the hunger he awoke within you. You tugged his boxers down so just the tip was exposed to the warm air between you two, and gave the leaking tip a soft kiss, tasting him there and causing Terry to hiss through his teeth at the feeling. 

“You gonna let me take care of this?” You asked it so innocently while pulling his boxers the rest of the way down, tossing them somewhere behind you and raking your nails back up his legs, sending a shiver down his spine.

“Mmhh” ever a man of few words he opened his striking eyes, nodding at you and flexing his abs, causing his impressive dick to jump slightly. You put one hand on his thigh, and the other confidently gripped his base, bringing his length to stand up closer to your lips, and you watched him bite his plump bottom lip to stop himself from thrusting into your hand.

“I’ll make sure you don’t question if I love you again” he saw the determined glint in your eyes and chuckled.

“Baby I was jok-“ the rest of his sentence was choked off as your hot, wet tongue circled his tip slowly. Your eyes danced playfully as you did it again, watching him squeeze his eyes shut tightly and both his hands move down to grip your sheets.  “Shit baby girl”

You hummed on his tip sending shockwaves of pleasure throughout his body, sucking a little more of him into your mouth before pulling off quickly with a loud ‘pop’. The hand gripping his base stroked up to tease his tip, and Terry couldn’t keep up with all the sensations, he was never prepared to feel your talented mouth on him no matter how often you got on your knees for him. 

“You were saying handsome?” You didn’t give him a chance to answer your cheeky question as you took him back into your mouth, further down this time, your hand gripping the length of him that you couldn’t take and twisting in perfect harmony with your sucking. Deep, almost pained, groans left his mouth as he lightly bucked into your mouth, unable to hold back anymore.

“Fuck” you felt one of his large hands twist into your hair, your scarf long since gone, and he guided you a little bit faster, “just like that, you suck that dick so fuckin good” his words were slurring slightly already and you hummed around him again at his praise.

Moving your other hand from his thigh, you cupped his balls and lightly tugged downwards, and called out your name just like you knew he would. Resisting the pressure he put on your head with his hand in your hair, you repositioned yourself so you could stroke him with two hands and focus your mouth on the tip. He was so big that there was still parts of his dick that went untouched. He thrusted more clumsily in your mouth as you gave him everything, twisting your fists and slurping his tip, your eyes shut in concentration and you moaning around him. You were about to make him cum way faster than he meant to.

“Wait-baby-WAIT!” His hands pulled your head off of him as gently but urgently as he could and you pouted up at him. His chest was heaving, his brows furrowed and his hips still thrusting into your fist that still twisted and stroked around him.

“Aww handsome” your tone was mockingly sympathetic “is my love too much for you?” You couldn’t help the cruel smile that spread across your pretty face, and he frowned back at you, still helplessly bucking his hips.

“I need to be inside you, now.” His gray eyes were dark and serious, but you weren’t phased.

“I’m still in charge, remember?” You leaned forward to lightly kiss his tip and he gave you an exasperated moan of your name. “But I do wanna feel you stretch me Terry.” With that you crawled unhurriedly up his body, giving him soft sucks and bites randomly over his muscles and smooth skin.

You positioned your dripping pussy right over his dick, rubbing your clit on his hardness and you both moaned at just how damn good you felt together. His hands moved to caress your thighs and you quickly grabbed his wrists, placing his hands above his head. He blinked those pretty eyes at you in frustration but allowed you to hold him hostage, keeping the both of you from diving right off that cliff into an ocean of pleasure. 

You smiled down at him, sliding your whole body on him teasingly, he could feel your hard nipples on his chest, you hair tickling his neck, your pussy trying to drown him, it was overwhelming but it was exactly what he wanted. You attempted to hold both his wrists in one hand, your hands were much too small but he obeyed and stayed still all the same, and you brought your other hand down to grip him, positioning him right at your entrance.

“You love me Terry?” You gave him a cute smile, and he wanted to bite your lips, wanted to flip you over, wanted to remind you that you’ve met your match. But he also loved you like this, his passionate hell cat, his wild insatiable pretty girl that wasn’t afraid to take what the fuck she wanted, what she needed. 

His piercing eyes got lost in the depths of your own for another moment before he leaned up so he could speak softly against your lips, “of course I love you baby girl” he kissed you softly and you let him, trying to hold on to your resolve and not melt against him. He pulled back, eyes going from your luscious lips to your pretty eyes, “I love you with everything that I am” his deep voice sounded so earnest, and an intense wave of love and belonging washed over you. He had no idea how much you were his, and you had no idea how deeply he felt the same way.

You finally, agonizingly slowly, sank down on his tip, feeling him start to stretch you despite how sinfully wet you were. Both of you moan, you shift up slightly to take more of him in, and his head falls heavily to the bed, neither one of you able to keep your eyes open, just completely lost in each other. Once you take all of him, clit kissing his base, you give him a torturous grind, pussy clenching around him and adjusting to his large size. He growls out your name and you open your eyes to look down at him, bringing your hand back up to his wrists. 

He glared at you, he was trying so hard to be still, “girl if you don’t fucking move.” You giggled at his serious tone, happy to see the effect you have on him. You begin to slowly rock your hips, watching his jaw twitch, knowing this wasn’t enough for him but not caring because it made him stretch your pussy so deliciously.

“Like this-“ before you could even get your teasing question out, he yanked his hands from under yours, forcing you to brace your hands by his head. His strong hands grabbed your hips firmly, lifting you so he’d have space to slam up into you. You gasped sharply, eyes rolling back in your head as he found a steady pace, the wet smacks of skin filling the room with your surprised moans.

“I fucking tried baby” his deep voice was strained, you did that to him. His head was thrown back and he was panting. The way you sucked his dick, such sweet torture, and now this? He can’t take the hold you have on him. “I really fucking tried to let you be in charge baby. You don’t know what you do to me” he continued to thrust up, hands gripping you tighter feeling how your wet pussy molded around him. You loved when he got like this, when he gets talkative when he’s deep in you, unable to help himself, and you groan and throw your hips back onto him.

You sat up a little higher, bracing your hands on his wide chest, and you both locked eyes again. You bit your lip as you began to bounce, and he smiled at that. “There you fucking go pretty girl, look at you bouncing on this dick, that’s your dick huh baby?” You moaned and nodded, eyes rolling from pleasure and twerked your hips back harder.

“That’s my good girl, soaking daddy’s dick, listen to her talk to me” and you could hear the obscene noises your pussy made. That, combined with his voice talking to you so gruffly, and the feel of his tip hitting that spongy spot deep in you, you were close. He could tell by the way your moans were broken, and how you stopped talking shit, and how you bounced just a little bit harder.

“Play with your clit baby, lemme see you cream all over me” you groaned moving one hand to rub your clit, and the other to pinch your nipple, hips becoming frantic on him. The sight of your head thrown back, loud moans of his name leaving you, beautiful bouncing curves, and the creamy wetness he could see on his dick as he thrusted in and out from underneath you, he was right there behind you.

“Just like that baby girl, I can feel you gripping me, keep going” you worked your clit harder and he moved one of his hands to grip your neck firmly. That was all you needed to let go, your hips bucked wildly and your gripped him like you wanted to snap him in half, he growled at you, eyes never leaving your form has he continued to slam into you through your orgasm.

“That’s. My. Fucking. Girl.” He punctuated each word with a harsh thrust before he stilled, groaning your name and pulling you down onto him, your head in his neck and arms wrapped around his damp body and he softly fucked the last of his cum into you.

You both fought to catch your breath, chests heaving into each others. You gave his neck sweet kisses as he lightly caressed your back. You shifted, the soreness of your thighs and core now getting to you, and your pussy clenched automatically around his dick that was still hard. He hissed and pulled you tighter against him.

“It’s too much” you could tell his teeth were clenched as he said it.

“Oh?” You propped yourself up on your arms by his head once again, taking in his stressed features, he almost looked in pain. You moved like you were going to get off him, lifting your pussy slowly until just the head was caught in her grasp. “Really? Too much?” You lightly twerked on his tip, knowing it was extra sensitive and Terry urgently gripped the back of your thighs trying to lift you off him.

“Too fucking much baby girl, I can’t-“ you left him winded as you sank back down all the way, your pussy was hotter and wetter now, completely engulfing him in blinding pleasure, and he just swears his heart is gonna stop as fast as its beating now. You’re trying to kill him, he’s convinced!

All you do is laugh, getting off on him being overstimulated. It was rare to see him like this, the lines of his neck and hard body so strained, his eyes unable to stay open, crude words leaving his mumbling mouth, his nails digging into your thighs were he’s unable to decide if he should move you away or closer, he was helplessly at your mercy.

You did that move a few more times, slowly lifting up, pussy clenching around him, teasing his tip just barely inside you, and slamming onto him again. It was driving him crazy, he didn’t think he had anything left to give but he felt it coming, and you were determined to get every drop from him. He shouted, turning to bite your arm next to his face, as he came again. It was much less this time but still enough to cause your combined essence to overflow out of you, making a sticky mess between you two.

“That’s a good boy” you teased and he huffed a wheezing “fuck off” at you, lifting your hips with weak trembling arms and pulling you off him finally with a sharp gasp at the cool air meeting his spent dick.

You rested your head on his chest as he caught his breath. You were honestly spent, sore and weak and needed to clean up, but your ego was inflated and your pussy had a pleasant ache to it now. Terry’s chest wasn’t heaving anymore, in fact you were surprised to hear soft snores leaving him. You propped yourself up and looked him over, beautiful features serene, muscles relaxed and pliant, dick softening but an absolute mess, you did good. You weren’t the only one that taps out around here, sometimes he needed to be reminded of that. 

You pressed a sweet kiss to his shoulder and got up to clean yourself, moving sluggishly as exhaustion caught up to you. Terry fell further and further into pleasant dreams that smelled of cinnamon spiced vanilla and tasted distinctly of you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Okie dokie 😇 I'm gonna tag people in the comments that I've seen talk about Terry, I'll probably write more for him so let me know if you'd like to be tagged in the future. Like, comments, reblogs and messages in my asks are well received and appreciated 💕

[gh0stsp1d3r]

I definitely need more Dad!Logan and or Pregnant!Reader! Anyway we can get something where Logan and the reader are married and they are teaching at the school (different classes) when the reader suddenly passes out during a lesson and it causes a frenzy and when she’s taken to med bay and tests are ran, it’s discovered she’s pregnant and she hadn’t been showing any symptoms until she passed out? From there we see some sweet moments through her pregnancy (also would it be Logan if he didn’t threaten Scott for getting too close to his family? 🤣)

sight to see

a/n: love this sm anon

Warnings: pregnancy, dad!logan

MASTERLIST | KOFI

It started off as a seemingly normal day, you say bye to Logan, giving him a kiss before you walked into your classroom, where all your students “ooohed” at you, causing your cheeks to heat and your eyes to roll, waving them off.

The lesson had started normal as well, you pointing to the chalkboard in front of you, making sure they were writing it down.

“So-“ you paused, suddenly feeling a wave of lightheadedness, your eyebrows furrowing.

“Mrs. Howlett? Are you okay?” You heard one of your students ask worriedly, all of them staring at you in confusion.

You smiled, swallowing before nodding, and trying to continue on with the lesson. Your ears rung, your vision getting slightly blurry, and your breathing picking up.

You suddenly dropped to the floor, the lead thing you heard being your students concerned voices in the back.

“Listen, kid, that’s not my prob-“ Logan stopped his sentence upon seeing multiple students rush into his classroom, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion, hearing all their voices overlapping as they spoke.

“Woah, woah, woah, one at a fucking time.”

“Mrs. Howlett, she fainted in the middle of a lesson.” He heard one student say, to which he immediately shoved through the other students blocking him, practically running to your door.

He slammed it open, seeing Charles and Jean over you. He swallowed thickly, looking to the both of them.

“What the fuck happened? Is she okay?” He asked, walking over to them.

“She’s breathing, she’s fine. I just might need to take her down to the lab, run some tests.” Jean responded.

“Fuck.” He mumbled, running a hand through his hair, following Jean and the professor down to the lab.

Jean and Hank looked at the screen and then at each other. Logan sat impatiently next to you, his leg bouncing up and down, his hand holding yours.

Hank finally walked out and over to the both of you, Logan looking at him for answers.

“If what we’re seeing is…correct,” he glanced down at the picture in front of him before speaking. “Y/n is pregnant. 5 weeks pregnant.”

“What?” Logan spoke, confused out of his mind at the moment, in disbelief. “That’s not…. She hasn’t been showin’ any signs or nothing, I don’t- are you sure?”

“Uh.. here.” He handed him the picture, pointing to a little figure that showed up.

He looked at the picture and then at you, sighing and falling back into the chair, holding his face in his hands. He wasn’t prepared for this at all.

Hank swallowed, and decided to walk away, letting him think for a moment.

It was then that you woke up, letting out a groan and your other hand going to your head.

He looked up at you, standing up and going to your side.

“What the hell happened?” You asked groggily while he leaned down to press his lips to your forehead.

“You fainted. Your kids came in and told me.”

You sighed, looking up at him. He still held your hand in his, he sat back down.

“What? Why’d i faint?”

He sighed again, staring at you while he spoke in a low tone. “You’re pregnant.”

“I’m what?!” You squealed, whether out of confusion, happiness, or fear, you had no clue. Jean and Hank quickly came back in when they heard you were awake, explaining everything much better and clearer.

It took Logan a while to come around to the idea, to fully accept and grasp the fact that he was going to be a fucking dad. It seemed like something straight out of a dream to him. Something he never thought he would have.

He loved you, he always would. And although he was scared, he knew you were probably just as scared- if not more. That first night you found out, he fell asleep with his arms wrapped around your stomach in the small med-bay bed.

And for the remaining months, he was careful, he was even more doting. All the kids loved to tease him, calling him whipped and such. He just told them to shut up, but they never missed that small smile on his face.

And of course, once the baby did finally pop out, she was the most adorable little thing. Logan adored her. He never wanted to let go of her.

It was a sight to see, the usually gruff Logan howlett being soft with his wife and tiny baby.

He was the most overprotective dad and husband ever- especially when it came to Scott. He caught him looking at the both of you once, and he pulled out his claws.

But you would have it no other way, really. <3

[woso-dreamzzz]

Video IV

Lotte Wubben-Moy x Toddler!Reader

Summary: You go to soft play

When Lotte looks back on her decisions in life, it's with a lot of fondness.

She's a football player now for both club and country. She's got a good life. Good friends. Good family.

But sometimes there's a few decisions she's made that aren't looked back on with such fondness.

Like that time she thought eating herself into a food coma last Christmas was a good idea or the time that she thought going for a bike ride without her helmet at seven years old was a good idea as well.

This is one of those moments.

She isn't quite sure what possessed her to make this decision.

Babysitting you was a common occurrence, whenever Beth and Viv wanted to go out on a little date without you or they were stuck in meetings and pr commitments that you just couldn't come to.

You stay over at Lotte's house a lot actually and with the introduction of your new trike, she's started to take you out to the park to do some laps.

But you're still little and growing and Lotte's sure that repeating the same things every day is harming your development more than helping it.

Which is why Lotte decided to stimulate your brain today by taking you to the soft play place.

She'd (wrongly) assumed that she would be able to sit by herself at one of the little tables for adults while you ran around and had fun.

Instead, she's scrunched up next to you, high up off the ground as you crawl around a few of the dangling things from the ceiling.

"Auntie Lolo!" You call when she doesn't crawl through too," Auntie Lolo! Let's go!"

Lotte sighs, shuffling through on her knees as you squeeze yourself into an even smaller space that she has to get into as well.

"Are you sure you don't want to go down the slide?" Lotte asks," Or maybe we can go back into the ball pit?"

It's easy to track you in the ball pit. Much easier than traversing all of these ledges and nooks.

You huff, little cheeks puffing out. "No, auntie Lolo," You say," We climb."

"Are you sure? I'm getting old, munchkin. I don't think I have much climbing left in me."

You frown a little, brow furrowing until a little crinkle appears. You shuffle back over to Lotte on your bum, little hand reaching out and touching her skin.

"Mmm, no. Not old. Doctor says so."

"Munchkin-"

"Doctor."

"Doctor Munchkin," Lotte says," Are you sure I'm not too old for all this climbing? I feel too old for it."

You shake your head. "Not old, auntie Lolo! We climb!"

You're off again, clambering up a few more ledges, ducking under dangling things and squeezing your body into spaces that Lotte struggles to follow after you in.

"See!" You say suddenly, pressing your face against the mesh rope to peer out to the rest of the play place," Is our kingdom. I'm King-Doctor and you're Queen-Auntie Lolo."

Lotte has to smother a bit of a laugh at how proud you are.

"A King-Doctor? That sounds like a lot of work?"

You nod seriously. "Is hard," You admit," But have you, Queen-Auntie Lolo. Lessi says you're prime minister!"

Lotte laughs. "Of course she did."

"So we rule together," You continue," Now! Slide!"

You go back the way you came, wiggling through the little nooks and crannies that Lotte has to shove her way through. She's pretty sure she's got a friction burn from dragging herself across the floor.

"Oh, now she wants the slide," She mutters, nearly falling head-first down a ledge after forcefully dislodging her foot from where it got stuck.

"Queen-Auntie Lolo!" You holler and Lotte picks up her pace.

The last time she let you go down the slide by yourself, you tumbled down like a log and there was still a little mark on your head from it.

"Alright, munchkin," She says, pulling you onto her lap," Are you ready?"

"Ready Queen-Auntie!"

"Alright. Here we go!"

The bumps in the slide make your tummy go all funny in the fun way and you burst into giggles as you make it to the bottom, kicking your legs happily.

"Again!"

Lotte looks up at the play structure, already knowing that you're going to take the long way, the one that includes all the detours and getting lost at least three separate times.

She winces at the thought, already reaching out to catch you by the back of the collar.

"How about we have some nuggets first? And then we'll see how we feel after lunch?"

It's sneaky on Lotte's part, that's for sure because you love nothing more than a nap after lunch.

You think for a moment. "Okay, Queen-Auntie Lolo. We can eat first."

Lotte smiles. "Thanks, munchkin."

"But only if we can get ice cream."

"Yeah, alright. We can get ice cream too."

[alchemistc]

both your hands in the holes of my sweater

It starts innocently enough. There's a chill in the air, a crisp and cool morning where neither of them have anything in particular to do, and when Evan plates up two decadent looking omelettes and suggests they eat them out on Tommy's patio Tommy can't think of a single reason why they shouldn't. The pergola is actually fully built, now, wisteria just beginning to creep across the lattice, the Adirondack chairs that have been sitting at the fence line for six months have been sprayed down and placed catty corner to the table with a built in fire pit Tommy had spent months staring at before allowing himself the indulgent purchase.

They're outside for five minutes before Tommy notices how tight Evan's arms are to his body as he eats, how the hair on his arms is standing on end.

Tommy gives it five minutes.

Evan is pretending not to shiver by the time Tommy decides Evan is officially more stubborn than he is. He'd come just off work, in a tight tee and jeans, and it's been hot as shit for weeks and he'd stopped bringing an overnight bag basically immediately when Tommy cleared out a drawer for him, so he doesn't have a jacket here.

"Evan," Tommy admonishes, after Evan's teeth clack together. "The omelettes are amazing, please go grab a jacket before you vibrate right off your seat."

He looks like he might protest, but after a careful moment where Tommy stares him down, he nods, stands - gives in and rubs his hands over his forearms as he books it back through the sliding glass door. Tommy spends the time waiting scrolling the same website he'd gotten what Evan has dubbed his "old-man robe" - he gets all the way through to choosing a cornflower blue one for his cart before Evan returns, snug as hell in one of the cardigans Tommy hasn't pulled from the back of his closet in at least a few years.

And there's something to that, actually. Tommy's dated around plenty - still remembers the way his first girlfriend had blushed beet red the first time he hooked her by her elbow to drop his letterman over her shoulders and how he'd wondered if there was something broken in him that seeing his name sprawled across her back didn't do shit for him. Still remembers the first guy who'd wrinkled his nose at Tommy's Carhartt and flannel, always half a step from dragging him into some high end shop for something Tommy absolutely knew they didn't carry with shoulders wide enough to fit him. Remembers the only other guy he'd dated who came close to matching him for size, and how he'd owned a grand total of three jackets that were tailored at the waist in a way that would have made it impossible for Tommy to close them.

So it's a first - Evan's style is changing, muteable, seems to hinge on his mood and his plans and the position of the stars in the night sky, but Tommy's never seen him in a cardigan. Give him some glasses and a collar under that shirt and...

Evan catches him staring and his grin goes wide, tongue pressing against the backs of his teeth in a way that promises at least one of them is getting a blowjob after breakfast.

---

Tommy winces against the sting as the tequila warms his throat and actually does a double take when Lucy wolf-whistles right in his ear. An hour ago, Tommy had been nursing his one beer and waiting for the text from Evan that he was leaving the firehouse, but a rollover on the 401 had run his shift long and somewhere between Evan's profuse apologies and Donato sidling up to him with a pool cue he'd agreed to shots. Date night was a wash, anyway, and Evan had seemed happy with the idea of meeting Tommy and his coworkers at the bar, and Donato was sneaky about her shots.

Tommy's - warm. Glad he'd ordered them both burgers once he got a text that Evan was on his way. Tommy is absolutely not going to make a fool of himself when he catches sight of Evan and feels the hinge of his jaw go loose.

Evan grins at him and waves at Lucy as he slides into Tommy's space. "Hi," he says, and Tommy knows he's a fucking dork but he's usually a smooth dork. Tommy's fingers drift over the pocket of his fucking flannel, dart over the rolled up shirtsleeves and the bulge of muscle stretching the seams at the shoulders and - "Nice shirts, Buckley," Donato snarks, already sliding a tequila shot past Tommy.

He's wearing one of Tommy's Henley's underneath, too. The fucker.

Evan looks a little bashful as he admits that he'd maybe gone a little too dressy for date night, and Tommy's place was closer.

Tommy knows for a fact Evan has a whole drawer of casual wear at Tommy's, but he doesn't call him on it, because this is doing something for him.

Their waitress is dropping off their burgers at the table in the corner, and Donato has already wandered off, so Tommy snags one of Evan's belt loops to tug him in, to press his lips to the bow of Evan's lip, to inhale Evan's pleased sigh. "If you catch up to me in drinks before we finish those burgers I might be convinced to let Donato mack on you again."

Evan swats his ass as he dances away, but Tommy can hear him adding a beer to Tommy's tab as he makes his way back to the pool tables.

---

Donato spends a month calling Evan "Tommy Too" around the station and Tommy's too smitten to care when half the crew picks it up.

It makes the next time Evan runs into the 217 on a call a little awkward, but Evan takes it in stride.

"No offense to the whole carpenter mechanic vibe you have going, but it's not even my style," Evan tells him, in the midst of explaining that he can't actually explain why he's constantly pilfering Tommy's shirts, jackets, and on one memorable occasion a pair of grey sweats that hadn't even made it past the bedroom door.

"It's - you can just say blue collar, Evan." The whole conversation had started when Tommy realized he was missing four different flannels and one of his tan jackets to boot. "It's fine, just - maybe stop hoarding them at your place, please? I'm running out of clothes to wear."

"We could go shopping," Evan says, with a gleam in his eye, and Tommy thinks of the party supplies debacle last month.

"No. Never again. You're a goddamn tyrant." He eases the words with a nudge of his shoulder against Evan's, and Evan grins back. He'd been mulish as hell about which balloons to get and what type of tape was allowed, and it had worked Tommy up so much they'd barely gotten through the door before Tommy was crowding him against a side table and reaching for his zipper.

One day they're gonna have an argument about trans fats in the freezer aisle of Ralph's and Tommy's gonna get a nationwide ban for public indecency.

Evan blinks away an expression before Tommy can parse it, but even though this is his first real foray into dating a clothes stealing fiend, he's heard the women in his life talk about the sentiment enough to sort of have an idea what it's all about. He takes a shot in the dark. "You can have one thing at your place at all times. Rotate them out if you want, but for the love of god don't make me go to work naked."

Evan's blink is a little less focused this time, which is absolutely Tommy's bad.

---

He doesn't really get it, is the thing. Until he does.

---

He's sulking. Tommy is absolutely sulking and he has no one to blame but himself.

"A whole wide world of fluke accidents and cursed injuries and you sprained your ankle on a basketball court," Eddie says, and they share a quick smirk between themselves at the memory of the last time they'd been to this particular urgent care.

He's got Evan's Jeep, and when Eddie gets him up into the back seat Tommy can feel the edges of his eyes getting heavy. It feels like barely a second has passed before Eddie's popping into the drivers seat

"These are good drugs," Tommy says, and then tosses the bag the pill bottle is in into the passenger seat. "Take them with you."

Eddie glances at him askance in the rearview, and Tommy's pretty sure he mumbles something vaguely coherent about addiction being a fucking genetic gift, but he's distracted by the shot of emerald green tucked into the back of the passenger seat pocket.

It smells like Evan, is the first thing he notices as he yanks it loose, and Eddie is most likely chuckling about Tommy pressing it to his face but there could also be a funny street sign. They'd gone to that brewery up in San Luis Obispo and when they'd left for the day trip it'd been chilly, but by the time they got there it'd been scorching.

Tommy spends a good ten minutes trying to figure out if he can separate the sandalwood body wash from the vanilla and vetiver cologne and then loses that train of thought when Eddie checks in. He's forced to remove the hoodie from his face with something vaguely approaching embarrassment, but Eddie just laughs. "You two are something else," he murmurs, and - it's a sentiment that's been repeated a million different times with a million different facial expressions but from Eddie, here in the quiet comfort of the Jeep, with NPR turned down low even though Eddie complains about it every fucking time he hops in to find Evan listening to it - here, it feels important.

That's probably the good drugs talking.

"I'm gonna marry that man," Tommy blurts, and Eddie doesn't do anything crazy like slam on the breaks or whip his head around. What he does do is catch Tommy's eye in the rearview and take stock of Tommy trying to stuff himself into the hoodie without unbuckling his seatbelt. He's probably gonna regret that, when the drugs wear off.

"He know that?" Eddie asks, and the edge he'd maybe expected is missing from Eddie's voice. He sounds - pleased, maybe. Knowing.

"I thought we had a hard rule about relationship talk."

Eddie hums. "You started it."

And he did, at that. Tommy isn't subtle at all about tipping his head to the side to nose at the hood of the sweatshirt. God, it's like rolling into Evan's pillow after he'd left for work.

"We've talked about it." He's aiming for casual, and it sucks that his vision isn't the best right now because he can't quite read the tilt of Eddie's brow.

Eddie makes it clear, though - a long, low whistle. "Kinda early for 'til death do us part."

"I woulda married him a month in, if he'd asked," Tommy admits, and - that's something he hadn't really planned to admit even if it's the truest thing he's ever said.

Eddie snorts. "A month after you ditched him halfway through a date?"

Tommy narrows his eyes. Tips his chin against the warming metal of the zipper where it rests against his chest. "There were extenuating circumstances."

"Like?"

"Like I was already way too invested and I didn't realize he didn't even know he was into men until I kissed him."

Eddie stews over that for the next however many blocks. Tommy tucks his thumbs into the sleeves of the hoodie and strokes them over the still downy-soft fleece lining the inside of the jacket.

"So what's the protocol with two dudes, anyway? You gotta ask each other's parents if they're cool with their sons no longer living in sin?"

Tommy snorts. "Your religious trauma is showing, jackass." He flicks a look at Eddie. "Besides, Phillip Buckley fucking loves me."

Evan had been more surprised by that than Tommy. Tommy's got a way - with fathers, with white collar men in their fifties and sixties, with - well he's got a way. They either secretly wanna fuck him or secretly wanna be him and Tommy knows how to lean into that. Without making it weird.

The rest of the drive is quiet. Eddie seems to be processing, though what, Tommy can only assume. He's got no clue what Evan tells Eddie about the two of them, unless Evan has mentioned it himself.

When he pulls into the drive, Evan's already pushing out the front door with a hand on his hip. He stills when he catches sight of the no doubt haphazardly thrown on jacket Tommy's wearing, and - yeah. Yep. He gets it now.

"I'm staying for dinner," Eddie says, with a finger aimed at Evan's face. "You get that look off your face."

Evan gestures, splutters. He's doing absolutely nothing to help Eddie guide him up the walk.

Five minutes later, when Tommy's settled in the couch with his leg elevated, Evan sends Eddie to the kitchen and spends a ridiculous amount of time fluffing pillows and gentling his hands over Tommy's legs - the good and the bad one.

Tommy's expecting a kiss, but all he actually gets when Evan draws near is an annoyed groan and a punched out sigh. "After Eddie leaves I'm gonna spend an hour telling you all the different shades of green in your eyes I've never noticed before."

Tommy grins dopily. Tugs at the hem of Evan's sweater - an old, old cable knit Tommy's surprised even fits the breadth of his shoulders when Tommy hasn't worn it since the aughts. "Eddie said no dirty talk," he admonishes, and Evan's grin as he drops his lips towards Tommy's is bright enough to power a city grid.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Wouldn't you like to see something strange?

HI I know the new Halloween character isn't out yet but I needed an outlet for my excitement (Yes, I am unfortunately a Nightmare Before Christmas girlie) 💀 so please be advised that he may not be in character here, I'm just writing based on vibes! This is technically a twisted!Jack Skellington x Reader fic, but the Reader is basically playing a role similar as Sally from the film.

P.S. I want everyone to know that I busted out my drawing tablet to make this special border for him the same day he was first announced... Yeah...

Boo.

On the nights with full moons, he liked to steal away to the Spiral Hill on the outskirts of town.

The outcrop of land overlooked a vast graveyard and field laden with pumpkins, perfuming the air with the crisp sweetness characteristic of autumn. Beyond it, uncharted territory. When he squinted into the darkness, he could make out the vague shapes of naked trees, their gnarled branches like fingers beckoning him to approach, whispering his name.

He draped his long, lithe legs over the hill, letting them hang in the frigid air. Spindly as he was, the wind easily blew them, knocking his legs around like the straw-stuffed limbs of a scarecrow. He kicked with the breeze, carefree as a child on a playground swing.

The moon stitched his pinstriped suit and tattered cravat with silver thread, touched his pointed crown at its highest points. Even the white ribbons ribbing his jacket and the pattern of bones tugged over his gloves seemed to glow under the celestial light. He liked the view, and the view seemed to like him, too.

Held in his skeletal hand was a single flower. He stroked a silken petal, then slipped another finger under it, plucking the petal free. The wind claimed it, setting it sailing off into the unknown.

He continued. A second, a third. So on and so forth, until the flower was left stripped down and barren, even robbed of its leaves.

He dropped the stem off the hill. The pumpkins below consumed it, and the once lovely flower’s body became one with the patch.

"I figured this is where you were."

He lowered his dark circular lenses. His bright eyes slid to the figure that had approached from behind, on feet so swift they hardly made a sound. They came in with the sweetness of deadly nightshade, the trace of a poisoning committed at midnight. "Not a lethal dose, just enough to knock the doctor out for a few hours," as they always said. "How else would I sneak out to see you?"

Dry, ghostly lips dashed with hatch marks pried into an open smile, both teeth and the gaps between them. Charming, in a crooked sort of way. "My dear. You've come."

You bent down. “If you don't mind, I'd like to join.”

“The spot beside me is always reserved for you.” He patted it, inviting you to take a seat.

"Such a gentleman." You sunk down, folding your hands in your lap. "And so handsome when you're brooding. You're terribly good at that."

He was, he was, especially silhouetted by the moon. The man was practically monochrome, but bathed in silver like this, his pale skin was less sickly and more ethereal. He almost appeared like a cruel angel in the light, descending to expunge evil.

"I'm not brooding," he pouted, "I'm dreaming."

“Dreaming." You reached out and tucked a strand of alabaster hair behind his ear. "Father says it’s a ridiculous, wild thing.”

"Ah, but that's what makes it so much thrilling. Life’s no fun without a good scare.”

His mouth quirked to one side, and his smile became off-kilter--as his ideas often were. "He'll bring us to ruin with his crazy, new-fangled thinking and flights of fancy," your father would complain. But you adored that about the boy. How spontaneous he was, how his curiosity was never-ending. He'd race about like a child, picking items up and sticking his face where it probably shouldn't go.

Full of life in this otherwise lifeless town.

"What's this? What's this?" he'd say. "I must know!"

"He's gone daffy," your father would declare.

"Mmm." You nodded absentmindedly, tracing your fingers along the shell of his ear and down to his arm. "What were you dreaming about today?"

He lifted his head, looking beyond the hill and to the woods. Not a word was exchanged. None had to be.

"The Hinterlands?" you whispered. "But we don't know what's out there. No ghoul or monster has ever ventured out that far."

"Then sounds like I'll be the first! They’ll put me down in the history books as a pioneer." His laughter brightened up the gloomy night. When he quieted, his gaze was solemn—more solemn than you'd ever witnessed him. "... Don't you wonder about what's out there? Stuff that's cold and fluffy and falls from the sky. Things that come in colors we haven't seen."

"Sometimes," you admitted quietly, "but those are just dreams. I don't chase them."

"Maybe you should. We should," he mused, fingers tucked under his chin. "I bet there's all sorts of things we've never even dreamed of, too. And wouldn’t you like to see something strange?”

"I would. I really, really would," you told him in a soothing tone. Trying to reassure him as much as you were yourself. "Let's not doing anything dangerous though. I sense something in the wind—tragedy at hand. I can't shake that feeling that something bad is around the bend if you tread that path."

You gingerly laid your hand over his. Behind tinted lenses, his eyes widened.

"Stay here with me," you begged. "We can be together. Gaze at the stars. Be safe in one another's arms."

“… Sweetness, I would love for nothing more than to have you and to hold you ‘til death do us part.” His voice fluttered like the brush of a falling leaf upon your cheek. He regarded you tenderly, locking his fingers with yours and squeezing. “But you know that’s not the kind of man I am.”

“Yes, you’re every flavor of foolish imaginable,” you replied, pressing your forehead against his, “and I love you for that.”

“As do I.” He brought his icy lips to the back of your hand. A chill spider-walked up your arm, and you shivered.

“Then…”

“That’s why I must depart one day.” He pushed his glasses up. You caught the tragic reflection of your face in his lenses. “Out there… something more awaits us. I’m sure of that. I intend to find it and revive our town, this season that’s gone stale.”

“I won’t stop you if you decide to go,” you murmured. “And I will count the days until you return to me.”

“I knew you’d understand.” His smile—now it was touched with sadness, the knowledge of soon parting ways. “Thank you, dearest.”

He stood slowly, drawing you up with him. Your feet followed, as if pulled along by a puppeteer. How in sync the two of you were, how nicely molded your bodies were to one another’s. Your joy melded under the watchful eye of the moon.

“Shall we share a dance? One for the road,” he crooned. An errant breeze tousled his pallid hair, his tattered coattails—but to you, he was fairest of them all. “Our last dance for a while.”

“Alright, let’s make this one count,” you chuckled, “so I can send you off on your travels with a smile.”

“Excellent 🎵” He slid a hand around your waist, guiding you to lean into him. “Let the merrymaking commence!!”

“Yes…!!”

The midnight waltz began.

He led you, step by step, and you trailed after. Movements easy and effortless, like two intertwining maple leaves, spinning and spiraling. Their partner, the center of their universe.

They danced as if possessed or an enchantment was cast upon their footwear. The moment too sweet, too succulent, to relinquish so soon. They wanted to savor it, indulge in it—and each other.

For never was there a more perfect pair than the Pumpkin King and his consort.

[matrixbearer2024]

If you take spicy requests, can you write about Ford teasing reader during sex? Like making the reader begging Ford to stop teasing them sexually

A/N: OH HELL YES LEZZGO! This man, this man istfg there's two sides of his fanbase and that's either him being an inexperienced cutie or a straight up sex god. WHAT THOSE FINGERS DO THOOO- remember ya'll my inbox is open for more spazz about this mans come feed me ideas HAHAHAHA- ANYWAY- because this is a spicy 18+ request, fic is under the cut.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Addicted (Stanford Pines x Reader)

Ford just couldn’t get enough of you, his love, his life, his vice, his addiction. You drove him crazy by simply existing, he couldn’t get enough. Now presented with the opportunity to return the favor, Stanford Pines was going to go the full nine yards and maybe an extra mile.

You didn’t know how you got in this situation to be totally honest; back pressed against the wooden walls of your shared bedroom while being kissed senseless by no one other than Stanford Pines. In one moment you were both sharing wine late into the night, laughing and chatting about whatever. In the next– you were here, the alcohol forgotten as you got drunk on something entirely different. 

Fingers tangled into his hair, you returned his passionate kisses with a fervour; earning a deep grunt from the scientist. The tension wound tight between the both of you, intense and electrifying every action and setting it alight. You were drowning in this man, intoxicated by the smell of leather and ink that clung to him like a second skin. There wasn’t anyone else you knew who could swear the scent of a library like an irresistible cologne. 

Thirty years had been far too long.

Ford couldn’t tell where his desire began and his affections ended, the situation played with his head like a snake eating it’s own tail. It should have already triggered the alarms in his head the second you came to him with a bottle of Port, all the more when you offered to share. Now, the uncorked beverage simply sat off to the side; an afterthought halfway empty. 

It wasn’t as if Stanford didn’t have self-control, the man was disciplined and strict especially with himself. The problem starts when you’re introduced into that situation. You leave Ford grasping at straws to maintain a coherent mind, much less a sane one. Like the differing poles of a magnet, the two of you were just drawn to each other for reasons words couldn’t begin to explain.

One was so bored of the mundane ordinary, the other wanted to find respite in it.

A sharp gasp spilled from your lips when Stanford so easily hefted you up, your legs wrapping around his waist for purchase. You both surged on like desperate teenagers getting lost and crazy in each other. Ford quickly took the opportunity to trail kisses down your neck and on your collar, sucking a couple hickeys that caused you to squirm and cry out for him. 

The idea that he’s able to maneuver you like this, to position you in any way he wanted with ease really set something off in your brain. Likewise, the way you writhed against him drove your lover up a damn wall. The way your fingers shakily dug into the knit of his turtleneck made Ford’s ego swell with pride. It was because of him you were like this, pliant and at his mercy.

Initially, he felt guilty for even indulging in the first kiss when you both shared that glass. One turned to two, then three and four; another and another no matter how much he tried to stop. You kept pushing his buttons and foolish as ever, Stanford kept falling for it. 

He told himself that he was going to take it slow with you, to treat you like royalty the way you deserved. Hilariously enough, Stanford failed to factor in that for every queen– there was a king; and you would stop at nothing to treat him as such.

The researcher knew the buzz that ran in his veins wasn’t because of the ethanol he consumed; the tightness in his slacks and heat in his blood wasn’t because he was inebriated. Sure, he was completely wasted; lightheaded, dizzy and incoherent, but it wasn’t because of the Port. 

Need burned through his flesh when you roughly pulled him back to meet your lips, a low moan slipping from your lover when you lightly tugged at his silver strands. His hands firmly gripped your hips in retaliation while fingers danced around the waistband of your pyjama bottoms.

“Ford. Bed. Now.”

You mumbled amidst fervent kisses, the scientist shivering at the stern tone of your instruction. It was always like this between the both of you; a push and pull that didn’t have just one person explicitly calling the shots. His heart thundered against his ribcage when you nibbled at his bottom lip, you just couldn’t stop teasing him for even a moment could you?

Stanford didn’t dare to break away from kissing you as he clumsily shuffled over to the bed nearby, he was surprised he still even had as much coordination as he did with you distracting him this much; and as if luck decided to taunt him with a jinx– Ford tripped and caused the both of you to ungraciously tumble on top of the mattress.

You both shared a surprised look when that happened before breaking out into giggles, that was an overdue dampener; not to mention extremely sobering. Your lover awkwardly scratched the back of his neck and shyly looked away as he adjusted his glasses, only then did you realise how much of a number you really did on him. 

Tousled hair, red-faced, swollen lips, it really reminded you of the first time you’d both gotten carried away snogging back in university. Though, back then you’d both been interrupted for different reasons. Stanford looked really adorable like this, plus– he’d gone all bashful. 

You were hoping tonight would end in a different way though. 

Gently cupping his cheek, you urged the man to look at you again and gave him a brief peck on the nose. You knew you’d gotten the reaction you wanted when the flame of desire reignited behind his eyes. Moving his spectacles to rest on top of his head, you leaned forward to whisper in his ear,

“I never said we had to stop~”

The response was instantaneous, an excited squeal erupting from your throat as Stanford pinned you down against the bed. He was capable of doing a lot, even back then; you just had to poke and prod him to elicit the reactions you wanted. The researcher just smiled down at you amused, leaning down to meet your lips in a gentle kiss.

“You’re still a minx.”

“I’m your minx.”

That sass quickly left you when he snapped his hips into yours, despite the fact you were both clothed– you could feel his arousal through the fabric. Your face bloomed in a furious red, it’s been so long…

“You look cute.”

Forget his trademark eloquence, the enamoured gaze Ford was giving you sent butterflies to your stomach. He never did look at you with anything less. Curiosity and adoration seemed to mix in his eyes around you, hand in hand and step by step. You sighed happily when he went back to nuzzling your neck, only jolting when you felt his teeth graze your skin. The heat surged in your core, the mood was back.

“May I?”

You’d laugh if it weren’t for the distracting feeling of his calloused palms roaming your skin, your nerves melting and then some from the stimuli. There was no underestimating how much your lover knew, applying that knowledge in practice however… sometimes you’d still get burned since age did make him much bolder compared to back then.

“Yes please.”

That was all the permission he needed, gently biting down on your neck as his hands cupped your breasts.  The moan you let out was no short of sinful, Ford’s eyes narrowed into slits and his actions grew a bit rougher. He felt you shiver when his thumbs brushed over your nipples, arching into his hands as your breathing grew laboured. 

“Ford~!”

The rush of need shot straight down. That had set something off in him, he needed to hear you say his name like that again. Your sweet tone was only doing him in, Stanford couldn’t help bucking his hips into yours and a shiver raced up his spine. You rewarded his actions with another desperate cry of his name.

The scientist thanked his lucky stars that he had the foresight to soundproof the rooms back when he built his home.

Stanford finally allowed his hands to wander elsewhere after some time, moving his lips down to replace his fingers instead when giving your breasts attention. He was being so thorough and meticulous; however, it was driving you crazy just how insanely slow the man was being. 

A small sadistic part of Ford wondered just how far he could take it before you’d beg him to do more; but even that would already be a test of his own control that was rapidly wearing thin thanks to your adorable noises.

“Ford please…”

“Please what my dear?”

You would slap this man for his smug tone if you weren’t so impatient on getting him to rail the thoughts out of you. Even if you squealed in surprise at him suddenly groping your ass, his hands had slipped below the garter of your bottoms and he gently kneaded the supple flesh.

“Don’t– Don’t tease!!!”

You cried out when his teeth grazed your nipple, oh fuck this arrogant man–!

“Why should I?”

Ford chuckled against your skin when one of your legs weakly kicked his side, he continued to press kisses to your chest while one of his hands finally shifted to give you attention where you sought it the most. It didn’t surprise him how soaked you were, but he couldn’t say the same for how receptive you were. Just the faintest touch already had you shaking in his arms.

“Sensitive?”

You kicked him again, only to exclaim in surprise when he started to rub at your clit. You could tell he was still teasing, the pace he chose would sooner drive you crazy from the frustration than the creeping pleasure. All the more when his tongue flicked over a nipple, you screamed his name in frustration.

“Ford!! Please stop teasing!”

“You’ll have to do better than that my love.”

You attempted to buck into his hand but the other was holding you down in place, he sucked harshly on your breast as a consequence and you wailed. It was simultaneously too much and too little, what kind of hell was this?!

“Please~!! Please, Ford! I need–”

He didn’t give you the chance to finish that statement before a finger finally slipped into your entrance, the scientist shivered at how warm and velvety your insides felt wrapped around his finger. He kind of regretted not removing his slacks now prior to this, they were painfully uncomfortable now.

“You’re so pretty for me~”

You whined at the praise, shivering at the gently firm pace he chose in thrusting his finger in and out of you. Pulling him up by the collar, you messily crashed your lips into his again as he added another finger inside of you and curled them. 

He knew how you ticked, what would get you to cave to him. Your head fell back when he purposefully pressed into that spongy part that would have you seeing stars. It should’ve been a bigger concern to you how smug your lover was being, abusing that spot with his fingers until you became an incoherent mess. You cried out his name like a broken record, Ford found himself hooked on it– on you.

“Please– please– Ford–!”

When he slowed his pace down when you got closer to that precipice, you knew he wasn’t going to let you fall over that edge so easily. Fuck. So much for hoping he'd play good boy tonight.

It was going to be one of these nights again.

Fic is also here on Ao3 :D

[ozziethegreat]

hue makes an appearance again.. if any of yall know me from tiktok and saw my first post about him ily

don’t mind me @toffeebrew @howlsofbloodhounds

Yapping below \/

So initially he didn’t have much of a story because I’m not very creative and I blank out whenever I try to make something original so yeah.

basically, if Color were ever to get error-d, I think he would be on a hike, probably in some random AU that had nice scenery or something. He’s wearing a rain jacket because it was raining at the place he was, and he he just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time, and Error or some other entity was destroying it or something. As for how he got into the anti void,,, yall can use ur imagination 😭

(That’s the best explanation I can give, kill me)

I was more focused on the actual character than his backstory, so I’ll just explain my ideas of how he would act and such..

I called him Static Hue, or just Hue for short. (It’s a synonym of color I’m very creative guys)

I think whatever caused the error in his code amalgamated the human souls, and kind of made them fuse together, so Hue can never understand what they are saying because they speak over each other all the time. The different traits overlap and he feels mixed emotions all the time, along with intense mood swings and anxiety attacks. His flames also change color at a much faster rate, so people with epilepsy will stay FAR away from him 😭😭😭😭

Fun fact: he’s also blind. The only thing he can actually see is the color of his flames (which change all the time), and it tends to give him headaches and nausea. His grabblings are always out and just attached to his back so he can use them to move around.

As for the strings, they are very hot to the touch and leave burn marks on however he uses them on. They burn himself as well but he doesn’t pay any attention to it.

Hue’s memory is very jumbled, he didn’t necessarily forget about everything, but he doesn’t remember why exactly he does things. He knows he needs to help killer and protect him at all costs, but he isn’t sure why. He knows he hates Nightmare and REALLY wants that guy dead, but he doesn’t know where that hatred came from. And of course he naturally feels safer near the epic trio, and nervous staying in the same places for too long.

hue’s pretty obsessive over Killer for this reason. His need to help killer was multiplied by a gazillion, and he tends to just.. kidnap Killer and take him random places to keep him close. Sometimes he accidentally hurts him, but he doesn’t realize it, the only thing he can think about is keeping him safe and close to himself. On the contrary, he gets super aggressive and defensive at the mention of Nightmare, and if he were to see him face to face he would attack without hesitation. He knows his job is to keep Killer safe and away from Nightmare, and that’s really his only motive. He just doesn’t know where it came from.

Similarly to most errors, he has trouble speaking because of stuttering and glitches. He also can’t form very clear thoughts because the souls are constantly influencing his behavior. He has trouble explaining his thoughts and feelings, he tends to speak more in actions (as in he would crush you to death in a hug to show affection.)

anyway. If anyone wants to add onto this or share thoughts I’d appreciate it..

Here’s some older drawings of him LMAO

[nathaslosthershit]

Oh Brother(s)! (LS2) (Leclerc!Reader)

Logan Sargeant x Leclerc!Reader (Part 2 to Red, White, and Williams' Blue but can be read as a standalone) Summary: All Logan Sargeant wanted was a nice and productive conversation with the love of his life’s three annoyingly protective older brothers, was that too much to ask for? Request: Hi Natalia! Finished reading: Red, White, and Williams' Blue (LS2) (Note to self: my official comfort fic🥹), is it okay if I could request a part 2 to it? (If you do part 2’s)? Nothing specific just maybe seeing how they’re relationship is going? (You can add whatever you want to it, but that’s my idea as of now) Thank you!!! A/N: Its my fic and I get to do whatever I want with it so I say Logan Sargeant is happy and employed. I miss him so bad. This was also such a sweet request because I too really like that fic. 

“What are we going to do with him?” Charles asked his brothers, keeping his eyes on their victim sister’s boyfriend. The three Leclerc brothers were standing menacingly with their arms crossed in the living room.

Logan sat in a chair placed right in front of them. They said he wasn’t allowed to stand, and they weren’t going to sit. They didn’t want Logan thinking there was equal power between him and the brothers.

What family was he trying to marry into?

Right, that's why he was here, he came to ask Enzo, Arthur, and Charles for their sister’s hand in marriage. It felt so medieval but they were fiercely protective of her and he didn’t want to give them reason to object at the wedding. 

“Can we at least turn the lights on?” Logan begged.

“If the lights are on you won’t be scared.” Arthur replied.

“No, I think as long as it's the three of you I am talking to, I'll be frightened.” Logan didn’t actually think this, he had plenty of normal, stress free, calm conversations with them but he knew they would get an ego boost at hearing ‘how scared he was’. 

“So, you want to marry our baby sister?” Enzo asked. 

They keep asking that question as if they don’t know thats exactly why he is there.

“Considering I started this conversation off with ‘I want to ask your sister to marry me’ I think that is a safe assumption to make.”

“And you haven’t asked our maman? Why would we say yes when you don’t have the decency to go to the matriarch?” Questioned Arthur.

Logan had to come up with a good excuse for that.

“I had… I wanted to ask you all first, you are her brothers and she respects and cares what you all think. Plus I knew I’d have an easier time asking Pascale than you three.”

“Drop the attitude and maybe we will say yes.” Charles commented.

This was ridiculous, he had been there 45 minutes and still had not gotten an answer. 

“How can we trust someone who doesn’t understand why we are protective of our sister?” Enzo spoke up.

“Of course I understand but this is-”

“A perfectly reasonable response to the question you asked us.” Arthur stuck up his nose as he said this, pissing off Logan even more. All he wanted to do was marry this girl.

“But if you guys keep speaking over me than-”

“Now you are trying to silence us? We are only looking out for our baby sister and you are getting mad?” He could tell that the brothers were mostly teasing him, but he had officially run out of patience. 

“Okay! Thats enough. All three of you sit down on the couch so I can say my speech.” Logan commanded, getting up from his chair as he pointed to where he wanted the brothers to go.

Surprised, and a little intrigued at the outburst, the three sat down with nothing more than a few angry huffs.

“You all have known me as the man who is dating your sister for three years. In all of that time, was I ever rude or disrespectful to any of you?” 

The three monegasques shook their heads.

“Was I ever rude to your sister? Did I ever treat her with anything but the utmost love and care?” 

The brothers shook their heads again.

“So, I have always been nothing but kind and respectful. I have never given any of you a reason to not like nor trust me. I have been faithful and nothing but loving towards your sister. I have a career and a well paying job so you all have no reason to think she wouldn’t be taken care of. What can I do to just have you give me a simple answer?” Logan finally took a breath. He had a better speech prepared, one that had less yelling, but he didn’t have the patience anymore.

The three Leclercs stayed silent. Logan began to sweat. Maybe the yelling wasn’t the most helpful method of asking them for their permission.

He then let out a breath as the three in front of him began to smile.

It was a ‘we are totally fucking with you and are amused by your outburst’ smile.

Fucking hell, he knew it and still let them get in his head.

“Sorry Logan, we couldn’t resist. Had to see where your patience ran out for future reference now that you are a part of the family” Charles laughed while standing up to pat Logan on the back. 

It took a second to register what he said.

“So- so you all agree?” Logan asked, not sure if they were still fucking with him.

“Yes, mate, we knew you were here to ask our permission to marry her the moment you asked to meet up with us.” Enzo replied.

Behind the American, he heard feet approaching and based on the fact he saw all the color drain from the brothers’ face, he knew who it was.

All of the brothers felt their stomach drop as their sister walked into the room. She had heard everything! They had ruined their baby sister’s proposal.

The three boys began to freak out, their made up excuses overlapping with each other making it hard to hear a single word. 

Logan ran up to go hug her, spinning her around in excitement. This made everyone else go still. Why was he not upset? They had just ruined his big moment by being overprotective idiots.

At the confusion clearly displayed on their faces, their sister spoke up, “Logan may have already asked me a month ago, we just couldn’t see you in person until now so we waited to say anything.”

“I also just needed a little confirmation that you three wouldn’t kill me for proposing before I got permission from you guys. Although, to be fair, I did ask Pascale before I did anything.” Logan said

“So it was all a lie? You didn’t want to ask us first because we are the most important people?” Arthur asked.

“Are you guys serious? He has no reason to ask you three idiots first. Or at all! You are overprotective babies.” Their sister answered. 

As the Leclerc boys all spoke over each other for the second time, arguing with their sister's comment, Logan kissed his fiancé, the two blissfully unaware of what the brothers were screaming about.

And far too in love to care.

[aerithmybbgmypookiemywife]

Let's spice up the SAGAU world with this idea. The reader is NOT The Creator, yet is a higher being that the characters refer to as "The Player". How would characters interact with the person who commanded them from above? And what if you still had the power to control them?

For this example, I would include Kazuha and Yanfei because they are my king and queen of my account.

oohhh honestly i feel like they would worship or think of the reader in the same way as they would worship their Creator.

Like, imagine Player! Reader playing Genshin on their phone and just absolutely fawning over Kazuha. "Oohhh look at my pretty boy…" you would mumble, and on the inside, Kazuha is flustered with that comment but always has to act like he didn't hear it. He can't see you, but he could always hear your voice… It's angelic, sweet… Calming to the ears.

When you control him, he feels calm. Kazuha fully trusts you in whatever you do.

What if Player! Reader is the type of player that just keeps yapping and commenting for no reason at all. Player! Reader is just roaming around and keeps spouting nonsense like Kazuha would say his usual line of "There are leaves around, and I know just the tune to accompany them, if you want to hear it." you would reply with "Of course baby girl hit me with it.". Or when fighting Hilichurls you would just spout filler nonsense like "HELL YEAH!! TAKE THAT BOZO!!" or "Mhm, get swirled mother fucker." while using Kazuha's skill.

Imagine Player! Reader gets a cutscene with Yanfei in it and just screams her name out of pure joy. On the inside, Yanfei is surprised but very much overjoyed with your enthusiasm. Every time Yanfei said a line, you would always comment "Yep, speak your truth queen." or "You're so right." and whatever anything just popped up in your mind.

Yanfei loves listening to you talk, although she unfortunately couldn't see you… The sound of your voice is forever engraved in her mind… She doesn't mind getting controlled by you, she knows that you were just trying to make things better for her.

But… What if… Player! Reader gets transmigrated not as a Creator, but as just a normal person… You're so fucking confused as to why you're suddenly in Liyue… Oh god… Why the fuck are the guards pointing their spears at you?!

"Who are you???" They asked with a glare, "I-I uhh… Uhh…" you stuttered, "They don't look like they belong here." one of them whispered. Before the situation could even escalate, a familiar voice spoke out. "What's going on here?" someone asked. You knew that voice…! It was…! Yanfei!

The guards of Liyue got out of her way and Yanfei got a better look at you, she looked at you from head to toe… Confused about your different type of clothing… "I swear to God I also don't know what's happening right now…" you spoke up as you held your hands up.

Yanfei's eyes widened, "Y/n…?" she muttered, recognizing your voice.

But what if it was Kazuha who met you first? Well, imagine Player! Reader wakes up and sees that their surroundings are different. "What the fuck??" you mumbled as you soon realized you were on a boat. But what boat…? Also, why were you even in the somewhat basement of the ship?

"Who are you?" a voice spoke up, it was familiar but it sounded stern. Your breath hitched to see where it came from… It came from… Kazuha? Now you're just confused…

"What the fuck…? Am I seriously in Genshin impact right now…?? IS THAT FUCKING KAZUHA?!!?" You blurted out the last sentence it hit you that it was Kazuha right in front of you! You let out a gasp and covered your mouth.

His eyes widened, "Are you… Y/n?" he asked.

I think it's safe to say you aren't worshipped by the NPC's but you are however treated well and worshipped by the Characters.

[jerreeeeeee]

okay so i was going to post a poll on peoples' interpretations of taako & sazed's relationship but i went and looked back at the transcript of the chalice episode and i can't even post a poll because i just can't think of enough options that would actually be supported by the text?

its very very clearly a predatory apprenticeship where taako is getting free labor from sazed in exchange for teaching him, and then sazed begins to feel entitled to an equal share, at which point taako shuts him down and speaks to him in actually a pretty cruel way.

taako 'hired' sazed to be a driver and assistant and "general roadie" and i think it's perfectly fine for taako to not want him to be performing as an equal partner, but also, he was clearly taken advantage of. like sazed's proposition is an equal split of both the work and the "glory" and presumably the profit, which is a fair suggestion, but also fair for taako to turn down. but also taako was exploiting sazed's adoration in order to not pay him for his work.

i don't think that equal partnership was something taako ever even let on could be a possibility, he's pretty clear in the conversation he has with sazed that it's not something he's interested in and he "doesn't wanna keep having this conversation." its definitely something sazed really wants, but i don't think it was ever promised to him, it seems like something he's thought of that he's bringing to taako, who immediately shuts it down.

and as unfair as paying for a lot of work with cooking lessons is, it seems like that's what sazed agreed to, and it's also worth acknowledging that even though this is an arrangement i would consider unfair within my own cultural context, it could be considered completely normal and fair in faerun, like similar to a blacksmith's apprentice or something

so i guess the only questions are what sazed agreed to and why, and whether or not taako actually liked him or was just mean to him all the time. idk its all very interesting on its own let alone when compared to taako's later relationships with angus & ren, but not really open to as much interpretation as i’d thought

[cosmichorrorlesbians]

These were the Silt Verses.

(closeups/design notes/rambling under the cut, because it took me over a month to make this so I'm going to be a little self-indulgent.)

spoilers for the whole podcast ahead!

Our protagonists! Notes:

Some of these came out more accurate to how I see them than others. Hayward in particular looks much less grimy and haggard than I imagine him. Carpenter, on the other hand, is perfect in my eyes. Shrue is (subconsciously) very much inspired by the wonderful @unbloodiedmartyr's rendition of them (thanks Sacha, your art goes insanely hard!)

Hayward and Paige face away, a nod to their final parting. Carpenter and Faulkner face one another, in deference to their final reunion.

Val and Shrue are both shown at the moment of their deaths.

Paige, the only character confirmed to survive the immediate finale, is the only one with closed eyes.

I'm a blond Faulkner truther. Sorry.

Someone left some really really insane tags on a Valpost I made like a month ago about how Val can alter her appearance as she pleases, but the Last Word can never convince her not to see the actual aftermath of her torture when she looks in the mirror, and it sent me a little crazy, so I was trying to capture that failing self-deceit here. She's meant to look absurdly young, but where the flames overlay her face, you can see the prayer marks and lacerations on her skin.

I had this out on my desk for days and every time a family member dropped by I had to frantically hide the fact I was drawing 'politician gets shot in the head' fanart. RIP.

These are the marks of the Many Below! They look Not Great enlarged, but hey ho. I wanted them to look hidden and incidental, separated in each corner as they are:

'Begin with a balbis on its side. Within the two spaces, a circle marked by a single dot.' Drawn in the silt of the White Gull River.

'Beneath this, a pair of concentric circles. Within the annulus, an ovoid with a slit - a staring eye.' Scrawled across the pug postcard Cross uses to write his idea to scapegoat Shrue.

'Under that, a lemniscate over a heptagram[...]' Made up of the ribbon that binds Mercer and Gage's rifles.

'[...]and three parallel lines beneath.' Faulkner's staff, broken into three pieces.

Interstitial illustrations. There are four sets of these, which (roughly) correspond to more stand-alone episodes & fan favourites. This is my favourite, for my beloved Chapter 36: All Lovers Part As Dust. I had a blast distilling recurring motifs of the episode into one little illustration, and I'm really proud of the result; I think it captures the match of sweet and bitter that the episode in question inspires. The clock points to the eleventh hour.

These are pretty self-explanatory: I couldn't pass up a chance to draw the inciting miracle of the series, and it made sense to pair it with the image of Paige and Hayward sailing downriver at the end of Season 2, an image which has always haunted me.

The hare and the owl are from Chapter 26, a symbol of the Wound Tree's emergence. The lobster and fish are intended as a nod to Faulkner and Rane, a character who I love but couldn't include more overtly. Lobsters are seen as a symbol of devotion and fidelity because, apocryphally, they mate for life, and yet the lobster here is without its pair. The fish was intended to be a remora, which swims beside sharks. (Yes, I'm aware remora are tropical sea-dwelling fish, and humbly beg any marine biologists reading this not to kill me on the spot).

The Killing And Violence Siblings!

These object illustrations were deliberately positioned as parallels and specifically reference Season 2, marking the point of the poem that is made up of that series' titles (an attention to the series chronology that roughly coheres throughout the piece. Very roughly.)

Mercer and Gage's rifles are twisted round with a red ribbon, which bleeds into the White Gull, binding them together and reflecting how they're rarely seen apart. The ribbon's also a deliberate parallel to the banner wrapping Carpenter and Faulkner's hands elsewhere in the art.

Carpenter's axe and Faulkner's sororicidal mirror shard are depicted alongside fish hooks, as though they're separated for much of the season, the Parish draws them back together in the end. Also an echo of Paige's line, 'Love is just a meat hook for you to catch me on.'

There's only blood on one of the rifles, in a nod to Mercer and Gage's uneven dynamic.

Bookend landscapes. The pages were intended to reference the Silt Verses as an in-story document, and represent the themes of truth, myth and record throughout.

The illumination!

It was always going to be a radio-- not a nod specifically to Sid Wright, but really to the use of broadcast, music and sound throughout the show. TSV's sound design is truly one of the things I admire most about it.

The radio is meant to be on Carpenter and Faulkner's dashboard, as they drive along the river in the very first episode, hence its positioning at the start of the poem.

I conceived this as the centre of the piece, and drew the rest around it.

aaaand that was a lot. I didn't cover everything, and I recommend clicking on the final piece to get full quality and see how the details interact with one another-- but if you've read through all these meanderings, thank you, sibling. I started this two weeks after the finale, and managed a full relisten while drawing. It's been a labour of love, and I now hate watercolours more than I have words for.

[r6eduss]

Would you do a jealous daryl fic? Im pretty open to whatever, I just like it when he gets all riled up.

Play Date.

��Summary: You confess to Daryl, but he doesn’t take it serious, leaving you heartbroken. But when he sees you with Spencer the next day, it sparks jealousy in him he didn’t know he had. (Fem reader)

•Warnings: 18+, No established relationship, angst, fluff

•Word Count: 3.5k

•Setting: Alexandria

•A/N: thank you for the request anon! I’m sorry if you aren’t happy with the results. It took me awhile to write this 🫶🏼 I think if Daryl were actually in a relationship with you, he’d be more trusting so he wouldn’t be as jealous.

The walls of Alexandria were a stark contrast to the world outside. It wasn’t just the literal separation between life and death, safety and chaos; it was the reminder of what life had been before everything fell apart. It wasn’t long ago that the world had been buzzing with electricity, the hum of cities, and the simple luxuries they all took for granted. But now? Now, the very idea of safety felt alien.

You glanced over at the furniture as you walked around the home you had been given, the group clustered around you like a protective herd. You all had been in Alexandria for only a day or two, and even though everyone was supposed to be settling in, there was an air of distrust hanging over the group. Rick, in particular, was on edge, his eyes scanning every corner of the street for unseen threats.

Daryl, meanwhile, looked as out of place as he felt. His clothes were worn and dirty, his hair hanging down over his face, but it wasn’t just his appearance that set him apart from the clean-cut Alexandrians. It was the way he held himself, like a caged animal, ready to bolt at the first sign of danger.

You’d known Daryl long enough to recognize the signs. He didn’t belong in a place like this, and he knew it. Hell, none of them did. But Daryl? He was different. He’d always been more comfortable in the wild even before the fall, so here, with their pristine houses and manicured lawns, he felt suffocated.

When Deanna invited everyone to the party, Daryl’s reaction was immediate and expected.

“I ain’t goin’,” he grunted, not even looking at you as he adjusted the strap on his crossbow. He was standing on the porch of the house you were all sharing, still on edge about sleeping inside, feeling a need to stay outside and keep watch to protect them from any and all possible dangers.

“Daryl…” you started, your voice soft, knowing that reasoning with him required patience. “It’s just for a little while. We’ve been out there so long, and Deanna’s trying to make us feel at home. I know it’s not what you want, but could you come? For me?”

Daryl stopped, his fingers stilling on the strap, and he turned to look at you, his blue eyes piercing through the shadows of his messy hair. You saw the hesitation in him, the way he always struggled with doing things for others when they weren’t strictly necessary for survival. But you weren’t asking for much—just his presence.

“Fine,” he muttered, not meeting your eyes. “‘But I ain’t puttin’ on no tie.”

A small smile tugged at your lips. “Deal.”

The party was already in full swing by the time you had arrived. People were mingling, drinks in hand, laughter filling the air in a way that felt foreign to the group that had spent so long fighting for their lives. It was strange, surreal even, to see people acting as though the world outside wasn’t in ruins. You noticed how uncomfortable Daryl looked almost immediately, his broad shoulders hunched in his black button up shirt while his eyes scanned the crowd as if he were looking for an escape route.

Daryl didn’t say much, hovering behind you like a shadow, his discomfort evident in every tense movement. People from Alexandria approached you, eager to learn about the new arrivals. They asked questions—about where your group had came from, how long they’d been on the road, and how you were all adjusting. You answered politely, but there was always a part of you that held back, a part that still didn’t fully trust this place.

Daryl, meanwhile, was grateful that no one spoke to him, even if the reason they didn’t was because they feared him. He stayed quiet, following you from conversation to conversation, his eyes flicking between you and the people who approached. He felt out of place, like he didn’t belong among these clean, well-fed people who seemed oblivious to the horrors faced outside those walls. But he stayed because you, the person he loved, asked him to.

Eventually, Deanna approached, her smile warm as she introduced you and Daryl to her husband, Reg.

“It’s so nice to meet you both.” Reg began, glancing between the two of them with a kind smile. “So, how long have you two been together?”

Your cheeks flushed instantly, and you quickly corrected him, laughing nervously. “Oh, no, we’re not… we’re not together.”

Daryl stayed silent, his heart was racing but he said nothing. He wasn’t sure what to say, anyway. The awkwardness of the moment hung in the air for a second too long before Deanna’s smile widened knowingly.

“Well, you make a good team,” she said before moving on, leaving them both standing there in the midst of the party.

You felt a strange mix of emotions swirl inside you—embarrassment, confusion, and something else you couldn’t quite name. You glanced at Daryl, but his expression was unreadable, his eyes fixed on the floor.

Before you could say anything, Spencer appeared, smiling that easy, charming smile of his as he greeted you. Daryl tensed immediately, his eyes narrowing as Spencer completely ignored his presence and focused all his attention on you, like everyone at this party had done.

“Glad to see you’re fitting in,” Spencer said, his tone just a little too smooth. He leaned in slightly, his body language relaxed but… suggestive. You noticed it, but tried to push the thought aside, assuming you were reading too much into it.

You both made small talk for a few minutes, Spencer doing most of the talking while you nodded politely, trying not to let your discomfort show. Daryl, on the other hand, could see right through Spencer’s act. He recognized the way Spencer’s eyes lingered a little too long, the way his smile was just a little too practiced.

His jaw tightened as he watched Spencer flirt with you right in front of him. It wasn’t that he thought you were his—but the way Spencer looked at you, like you were a conquest, made him feel frustrated, made him feel emotions he’s never felt for anyone before, feelings he didn’t think he was capable of feeling.

“I’m gon’ get a drink.” Daryl muttered under his breath, though he had no intention of actually getting one. Without waiting for a response, he turned and headed for the door, needing to get away before he did something stupid. You barely noticed as he walked away, too caught up in Spencer’s conversation. It wasn’t until Spencer asked, “So, do you have a boyfriend?” that your mind shifted to Daryl.

You paused, your heart skipping a beat as you thought about your feelings for Daryl. You weren’t together, but you couldn’t deny that your heart had long since gravitated toward him.

“No,” you finally answered, voice quiet.

Spencer’s smile widened, and before you could say anything else, he asked, “Then how about we go out sometime?” The question caught you off guard, but you recovered quickly, offering him a polite smile as you shook your head. “I’m not really interested, I’m sorry.” You couldn’t really handle the awkwardness of the conversation, so you began to walk away, but Spencer wasn’t one to take no for an answer. His hand shot out, grabbing your wrist a little too tightly, his smile fading into something harder. “Come on,” he said, his tone insistent. “It’s just a date.”

You tensed immediately, your eyes narrowing as you tried to pull your wrist free. “Let go,” you said firmly, your voice was low enough that no one else at the party noticed.

For a moment, Spencer hesitated, his grip tightening. But then he seemed to remember where they were—surrounded by both Alexandrians and people

of Rick’s group—and he released you, his expression shifting back into a smooth, apologetic smile.

“Sorry about that,” he said quickly, but the red mark on your wrist told a different story.

Without another word, you turned and walked away, heading toward the table with the drinks to look for Daryl. But when you got there, he was nowhere to be found. What you did see, though, was Spencer already chatting up Sasha, his flirtatious smile back in full force.

You sighed, feeling a wave of disappointment wash over you. The night wasn’t turning out the way you had hoped. You wanted to enjoy it, to maybe have a quiet moment with Daryl, but instead, it felt like everything was falling apart.

Needing some air, you stepped outside, the cool night breeze brushing against your skin. It didn’t take long to spot Daryl, leaning against a nearby fence, a cigarette between his lips as he stared out into the darkness.

You approached him slowly, your heart still racing from the interaction with Spencer. As you got closer, Daryl’s eyes shifted to you, and the moment he saw the red mark on your wrist, his entire demeanor changed.

“Wha’ happened?” he asked, his voice rough but laced with concern.

You hesitated for a moment, not wanting to make a big deal out of it, but you knew there was no point in lying to him. “Spencer grabbed me when I tried to leave,” you really didn’t want to already start problems. “It’s fine. He let go.”

Daryl’s expression darkened instantly, his jaw clenching as he tossed the cigarette to the ground, already turning to head back toward the house. “I’m gon’ kill ‘im.”

“Daryl, wait,” quickly, you stepped in front of him and placed a hand on his chest to stop him. “It’s fine. I just… I want to spend the night with you. Not dealing with that. Please.”

He stopped, his fists still clenched, his eyes blazing with barely contained anger. But something about the way you said it—the way you asked him to stay with you—made him pause. He looked down at you, his chest rising and falling as he tried to calm the storm inside him.

“If he gets near ya again, I swear…”

You smiled softly, touched by his protectiveness. “I know. But you don’t have to worry. I’ve got you—and the rest of the group—watching out for me. I’m fine.”

He was quiet for a moment, his gaze dropping to the ground as he struggled with the emotions swirling inside him. He wanted to protect you, wanted to make sure no one ever laid a hand on you, but there was something else gnawing at him—something he didn’t quite know how to deal with.

Jealousy.

He didn’t think he had a right to feel it, but it was there, a bitter taste in his mouth. Spencer was younger, cleaner, probably the kind of guy you deserved. And him? He was older, rough around the edges, scarred in more ways than one.

He opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, you spoke again, voice steady. “Daryl… you don’t have to worry about Spencer or anyone else. My heart… it already belongs to you.”

For a moment, Daryl froze, his mind going blank as your words sank in. He looked down at you, his eyes wide with disbelief. You couldn’t be serious. There was no way someone like you—someone strong, kind, beautiful—could feel that way about him.

A defensive scoff escaped his lips as he shook his head while giving your shoulder a playful nudge.

Your smile faltered, and you felt the sting of his actions deep in your chest. You’d laid your heart bare, and he’d brushed it off like it was nothing. But you didn’t let the hurt show. Instead, you forced a small laugh, playing it off like it was a joke.

But inside, your heart was breaking.

Without another word, you turned and began walking back in the direction toward your shared home with the others, your chest tight with the weight of his rejection. You felt like you had taken a leap, only to be pushed away, and now all you wanted to do was disappear.

Daryl watched you go as he lit another cigarette, his mind racing with thoughts he couldn’t untangle. His jealously, his feelings for you, things he’d never discuss out loud.

After arriving, you realized you were alone in the house. Everyone was still at the party and the silence was too deafening, leaving you unable to shake the pit in your stomach. The night stretched on endlessly as you rested on the worn-out couch, staring at the ceiling, the events of what happened playing on a loop in your mind.

Rejection. The taste of it still burned in your chest. You had put your heart on the line, and Daryl didn’t seem to notice. It had felt like a punch to the gut, leaving you winded and second-guessing everything. He hadn’t even said anything real—just brushed it off like you were joking, and now, the quiet gnawed at you, making you feel smaller by the minute. Maybe he didn’t feel the same, and that thought consumed you throughout the night.

The next day passed in a blur. You barely caught a glimpse of Daryl, knowing he was out with Aaron, who had given him a new job as a recruiting partner after he had invited him over for dinner. Every step he took away from you felt like another brick in the wall that was forming between you two. You wrestled with your feelings, considering maybe it was time to let loose.

And maybe it was time to open your options with someone else.

That afternoon, while you sat on the porch, a warm breeze brushing against your skin, Spencer appeared, looking sheepish. “Hey, about yesterday...” His voice was shaky, unsure. He shifted on his feet, his gaze darting to the ground before he finally met your eyes. “I’m really sorry for grabbing your wrist like that. I had too much to drink and I was way out of line.”

You remembered the incident from the party—the way he had grabbed you, too rough, too desperate. But now, seeing the guilt in his eyes, you couldn’t help but feel a small sense of pity.

“It’s fine,” you forced a small smile. “You were buzzed. I totally get it.”

Relief washed over his face, and he grinned, more confident now. “So... what about that date?”

You hesitated for a moment, your heart still aching for someone else, but the thought of moving on, of trying to distract yourself from the pain, seemed tempting. Maybe you could use Spencer to forget Daryl. “Sure,” you replied, surprising yourself with the ease in your voice.

The date was... fine. That was the best word to describe it. Spencer talked a lot about himself—his job before the fall, his family, the world he missed. He asked you questions too, seemed genuinely interested in what you had to say, but as much as you tried, you couldn’t really care. His words barely made a dent in your thoughts, because they were always somewhere else—on Daryl.

But Spencer, oblivious to your disinterest, seemed to think it was a success. He walked you home afterward, his arm brushing yours every now and then. You found yourself laughing at some of the things he said, more out of politeness than anything else, but for a moment, it almost felt normal. Almost.

As you approached the front porch, you failed to notice Daryl.

He stood there, not far from the house, just returning from his run with Aaron. He froze, his eyes locked on you and Spencer, his face hardening into something unreadable. Daryl just watched, hands clenched at his sides with his jaw tight.

By the time you reached the porch, you felt tired in more ways than one. As Spencer gave you a final, confident smirk, promising to see you again soon, he finally left. You were lost in thought. The silence wrapped around you, and for a while, you almost forgot about the strange encounter—until you spotted Daryl walking right towards you.

“Hey, Dary—”

Before you could finish, Daryl’s hand shot out, gripping your wrist—not rough, but firm enough to pull you toward him. His face was a storm of anger, jealousy, and something else you couldn’t quite place. His chest was rising and falling rapidly, like he was barely keeping it together. He dragged you into the house, slamming the door behind him with a force that rattled the frame. “The hell ya doin’ with tha’ asshole?” he spat, his voice low and accent thick, filled with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

You blinked, caught off guard. “What do you mean? We were just talking.”

Daryl scoffed, pacing like a caged animal. “Talkin’? That son’of a bitch touched ya, now yer walkin’ ‘round with him like it didn’t mean nothin’.”

You crossed your arms, defensiveness rising in your chest. “He apologized. It wasn’t that big of a deal.”

His eyes flashed, and you could see the fury bubbling just beneath the surface. “Not a big deal? He hurt ya!” His voice was louder now, frustration pouring out of him.

And then it hit you—why he was acting this way. Was he... jealous? The realization made your blood boil. After he brushed you off, now he wanted to care? Now he wanted to feel something?

You snapped, your voice laced with anger. “So what? It wasn’t nearly as bad as you hurt me! So stop acting like we’re together when you clearly don’t care!”

Your words hung in the air, cutting through him like a knife. You watched as Daryl’s expression shifted from anger to confusion. “What?” His voice was quieter now, unsure.

Your heart clenched, the weight of everything you’d been holding in finally crashing down on you. “Last night,” you began, your voice was softer now, but still trembling with emotion. “When I told you my heart belonged to you... you acted like it was a joke.”

His breath caught in his throat. He remembered. The way he had shrugged it off, laughed it away, thinking you were just messing around. He had never thought, not in a million years, that you could feel that way about him. A girl like you? Loving a guy like him? It was laughable.

But now, seeing the pain in your eyes, it wasn’t funny at all.

“I... I’m sorry,” he mumbled, his voice thick with regret. “Thought ya were just messin’ ‘round.” He trailed off, unable to find the right words.

You sighed, the tension slowly ebbing away as you took in the sight of him—this man who had built up walls so high, he couldn’t even see when someone was trying to climb them. “Why would I joke about something like that, Daryl?” you asked, almost pleading. Maybe he was used to Carol’s humor, or maybe he didn’t think he deserved you.

He shifted uncomfortably, his eyes dropping to the floor. “Dunno,” he muttered. “Didn’t think redneck trash would be worth yer time.”

His words hit you harder than you expected. The way he saw himself, the way he spoke of himself—it hurt. But in this moment, the vulnerability in his voice, the way he couldn’t even look at you... it was endearing.

“Daryl...” you called softly, stepping closer, your heart pounding in your chest. You reached out, gently placing your index finger and your thumb under his chin, tilting his face up until his eyes met yours. The closeness between you made the air crackle with anticipation.

His eyes flickered between your gaze and your lips, nervous, unsure. He bit the inside of his lip, fidgeting with his fingers, and you knew—he was waiting for your next move.

With a steady breath, you leaned in, closing the distance between you, and pressed your lips to his. The kiss was soft at first, tentative, but as his hands found your waist, pulling you closer, it deepened. When you finally pulled away, you stayed close, your lips brushing his as you whispered, “Of course you’re worth my time.”

Daryl’s eyes were wide, his breath shallow. For a long moment, he just stared at you, as if trying to convince himself that this was real. Then, in a quiet manner, he cleared his throat. “I love ya.” The words left his mouth in a very subtle whisper as you felt his breath against your lips.

Your heart stopped, the world seeming to freeze for just a second. He... loved you?

“I love you too, Daryl,” you whispered back, smiling before leaning in to kiss him again.

After a long, tender moment, you pulled back, and Daryl glanced away, embarrassed. “Ya still gon’ hang out with tha’ guy?” he asked, his voice gruff but his tone soft.

You laughed, completely forgetting about Spencer. “No,” you cupped Daryl’s cheek gently, making him revert his gaze back to you. “I have you. That’s all I need.”

@vampiresluv

[official-cvntified-gay]

Not Abigail [Abby A. x Reader]

❥ this is the most active I've ever been so let me just put this out there, also that's her face when you call her Abigail ack I wanna squeeze her cheeks and give her lots of kisses.

────────────────────

It was another long day of patrolling for Abby Anderson, and as usual, she was laser-focused and determined, her cold demeanor firmly in place. The WLF had sent out a team to scout the outer edges of their territory, and Abby led the way, her expression sharp, body tense. She wasn’t much for small talk, and most of the others in the group respected the unspoken rule: stay out of her way.

You, however, were used to Abby’s demeanor. You knew that beneath the tough exterior, there was more to her. That didn’t mean she didn’t frustrate you, though. Especially on days like today, where her need to charge headfirst into danger pushed you to the edge.

As you walked, scanning the horizon for any threats, Abby’s voice broke the silence. “Stay alert. We’re getting close to a Scar territory.”

You nodded, gripping your rifle tighter. The air felt heavy with tension, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was going to happen. It was too quiet.

Suddenly, movement in the trees caught your eye, and before you could even react, Abby was already charging ahead, hammer in hand. She crashed into a group of Scars, her weapon swinging with deadly precision, while the rest of the patrol scrambled to catch up.

“Abby, wait!” you shouted, frustration boiling over as you rushed to join the fight.

But she didn’t listen. She never listened when it came to a fight. Within seconds, Abby was in the thick of it, dodging arrows and delivering brutal blows. The others tried to cover her, but your irritation with her recklessness grew with every passing second. This wasn’t the first time she’d thrown herself into danger like this without thinking. And it wouldn’t be the last if she kept this up.

By the time you reached her, the Scars were already down, Abby panting as she wiped the blood from her face. You stormed over to her, adrenaline and anger mixing into a volatile cocktail.

“Abigail Anderson!” you snapped, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her away from the group.

She blinked at you, taken aback. “What—”

“What the hell were you thinking?” you cut her off, glaring at her. “You can’t just charge in like that! We’re a team, Abby! Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?”

Her eyes flickered with confusion—no one ever talked to her like this. Not Manny, not Owen, no one. But you weren’t backing down.

“And don’t ‘what’ me, Abigail,” you continued, voice sharp. “You could’ve gotten hurt. Or worse.”

Abby’s frown deepened at the sound of her full name, and for the first time, her tough exterior cracked just a little. She averted her gaze, her jaw tightening. “Don’t call me that. I’m not Abigail,” she muttered, her voice low.

You crossed your arms, still fuming. “I’ll call you whatever I want if you keep acting like this. You’re too reckless.”

“I wasn’t being reckless,” she grumbled, though there was less conviction in her voice. “I was handling it.”

“You don’t have to handle everything alone, Abby. We’re here to help you. You can’t just charge in without thinking of the consequences.”

Abby shifted uncomfortably, clearly not used to being scolded like this. Her lips pressed into a thin line, and she gave a small, barely audible, “Sorry.”

You sighed, trying to calm down as the anger faded. “Just… be careful, alright? I don’t want to lose you.”

She looked up at you then, and you could see the hint of vulnerability in her blue eyes. Abby wasn’t used to being called out like this—especially not by someone she trusted.

“Okay,” she mumbled. “I’ll be more careful.”

Satisfied, you turned back to rejoin the patrol, but you couldn’t help but notice how Abby stuck close to you, hovering just within reach. It wasn’t like her to linger, but there she was, quiet and unusually reserved.

As the patrol continued, you couldn’t resist teasing her a bit. “You see anything up ahead, Abigail?”

She shot you a look, her frown deepening. “I told you not to call me that.”

“Then stop acting like I need to,” you said, keeping your voice neutral.

For the rest of the patrol, you made a point of calling her Abigail at every opportunity, much to her growing irritation.

“Keep up, Abigail,” you said as you marched ahead.

Her shoulders tensed, but she didn’t argue. Every time you called her by her full name, she’d pout a little harder, her usual confidence and commanding presence shrinking with every scolding.

Manny eventually caught on, falling into step beside you. “What’s up with Abigail?” he asked with a smirk, clearly amused by the whole situation.

Abby glared at him, but there was no bite behind it. “Shut up, Manny,” she muttered, cheeks flushing as she avoided his gaze.

The rest of the patrol exchanged glances, clearly noticing Abby’s strange behavior. Normally, she was the one calling the shots, the one people were afraid to cross. But now? She looked almost… pouty. The intimidating soldier everyone knew was nowhere to be seen.

By the time the patrol ended and you made it back to the stadium, Abby was still lingering close to you, her silence speaking volumes. As the group disbanded, you finally turned to her.

“Are you still mad?” she asked, her voice quiet, almost shy.

You softened at the sight of her—this wasn’t the Abby you were used to seeing. The vulnerability in her voice, in her posture, it tugged at your heart in a way you hadn’t expected.

“I’m not mad, Abby,” you said, dropping the use of her full name for the first time since the fight. “I just need you to stop being so reckless. I don’t want you getting hurt.”

Abby looked up at you, relief clear in her eyes. “I wasn’t trying to be reckless. I just— I thought I could handle it.”

“I know you can handle it,” you said softly. “But that doesn’t mean you should have to do it alone.”

She nodded, her shoulders relaxing slightly. “I’ll be more careful next time. I promise.”

You smiled, the tension finally easing between you. “Good. And Abby?”

“Yeah?”

“I’ll only call you Abigail when you’re being reckless. Got it?”

A small, rare smile tugged at the corner of her lips, and she nudged you lightly with her shoulder. “Deal.”

With that, the two of you walked into the stadium side by side, Abby still sticking close—but now, it was out of something softer. Something that told you she was grateful to have you looking out for her, even if she’d never admit it aloud.

[msschemmenti]

one year down, forever to go

emily prentiss x reader

monday morning guest— part two

a/n: i’m actually very surprised how much y’all enjoyed the first part of this because it was in fact a crack idea i came up with randomly !! but here’s a second part and i apologize if it sucks i really had no clue where this was going <3

a/n to the a/n: also my requests are open if y’all wanna request something :)

“you’re married?!” garcia was the first to exclaim and emily sighed in exasperation. she eyed her chosen family and knew she wasn’t getting out of answering this. at all. 

“Technically i’m divorced now.” emily grimaced as she watched garcia’s face contort further in confusion.

“How can this be? How did you get married and divorced within the hour? You know I thought we were done with secrets after you faked your death but i see I was wrong and you actually don’t love me.” garcia grumbled as she threw herself on the couch in disdain. 

“Uh- Penelope, this is not the same thing. I found out at the same time you did.” Emily scoffed as she ran a hand through her hair. She lowered herself behind her desk and made to pick up a file, hoping the team would take the hint. Wishful thinking.

“Oh no, none of that. Spill.” Tara grinned as she perched on the arm of the couch expectantly. Everyone follows her lead in getting comfortable. 

“Aren’t there some case files out there you should all be working on?” Emily groaned, nodding toward their desks in the bullpen. 

“Sure, but this is far more interesting.” JJ grinned with a shrug. 

“Yeah, if I recall correctly it was only a little while ago that you were hyperbolically recounting my wives. And low and behold, you’ve got a wife of your own.” Rossi goaded. 

“How many wives are you at?” Luke asked, easily distracted but ever happy to be included. 

“Not the point, Newbie. Stop distracting. We’re here to learn about Emily’s secret wife, not Rossi’s 6 wives.” Garcia chastised, turning everyone’s attention back to Emily. 

“God, I’m not getting out of this am I?” Emily asked, and when everyone shook their heads her shoulders slumped, and she accepted her fate. 

-

backpacking through Europe may have been her best idea yet, or so she thought at least. y/n didn’t seem to agree. they were nearing the end of their spring break and as beautiful and adventure filled as the days had been— the younger woman was ready to get to a hotel.

“em, if we take one more turn you’ll be carrying me back to civilization.” y/n groaned.

“back to civilization? there’s like 60 people hiking the same trail we’re on.” emily rolled her eyes.

“okay and? i haven’t seen a mall in days. i’m going through serious withdrawals.” y/n sighed as they did in fact take another turn.

“oh stop your whining, we’re almost at the hotel. i told you, we could spend half the trip backpacking and the other half in the lavish luxury you dream of so often.” emily smiled over her shoulder, reaching for y/n’s hand to pull her down the trail.

“i just don’t understand. your mother damn near begged us to use her hotel and resort recommendations and you want to be outside. in nature’s home. couldn’t have gotten that from your mom.” y/n lamented, putting up very little fight as emily guided her further through the park.

emily listened to her complain for most of the days they’d been out but she really couldn’t think of any other person she’d want with her. meeting y/n had been rather serendipitous. she’d just started her mastered at yale and moved into this astronomically expensive apartment in georgetown. and she was hell bent on supporting herself. so she’d found a restaurant looking for waitresses and put in an application. on her way out the hostess had changed and she’d rather dumbly stopped at the station with the application in her hand.

“hi?” the woman chuckled, eyeing the brunette curiously.

emily’s cheeks reddened under the woman’s gaze and she cleared her throat. “uh, hi. they told me to give my application to the hostess but i don’t see her anymore.”

the woman leaned against the hostess stand with a chuckle and reached her hand out to accept the paper. “that was nina, she works mornings. i’m the evening girl.”

emily nodded disjointedly and handed the application over, “morning girl is nina. so that makes you?”

the hostess grinned and leaned a bit further toward emily, “that makes me y/n,” y/n looked at the top of the application searching for a name. “emily.”

emily smiled and rubbed the back of her neck, “nice to meet you.”

y/n smirked as she eyed emily, “you’ve never had a job before have you?”

emily’s cheeks reddened instantly and she grimaced, “is it that obvious?”

“yeah sweet. it’s real obvious. but you’re cute, so i’ll put in a good word for you.” y/n shrugged and headed back through the restaurant with the application. emily’s cheeks felt like they were on fire but it only worsened when y/n sent a flirty wave over her shoulder before disappearing behind the bar.

and from that day on they’d been inseparable. y/n was working her way through law school and even after emily had been rightfully fired from the restaurant, y/n had become her favorite person. somewhere during the first year of them knowing each other they finally gave into the ever present flirtation and got together.

that’s how they ended up in europe anyway. emily was graduating in a few months and this was set to be her last big hurrah of freedom before diving head first into work. she’d sold y/n on the beauty of europe and also her company.

“i don’t know if i ever told you. but anytime mother and i were in france, i spent most of my time with my grandfather up in his cabin in the french alps. there was a 10-year stretch where he didn't come down off the mountain. he had no electricity, no running water, and his food supplies came from the land. those were some of my fondest memories.”

at emily’s explanation, y/n quieted a bit and leaned in to kiss her lips sweetly. “well i guess it’s not that bad then. as long as i can get you drunk tonight?”

“i guess. not like i can say no to you.”

“not like you ever have before. if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.”

and drunk they did get. so much so that they woke up with little to no memory of the night before. rings on fingers and heads pounding. they were married.

-

“So what, now you’re like Rossi? A profiler with a hot ex-wife?” Tara asked as Emily brought the story to a close. Emily glared at the woman but shrugged a little in defeat.

“well she didn’t seem too upset when she left. if anything she seemed eager for something…” spencer pointed out.

“that’s right boy genius, she thanked me. a scorned ex wife wouldn’t have done that!” garcia nodded frantically, pinning emily with a glare.

“well we are divorced. i signed the paper but while she’s in town, she’s agreed to let me make up for the twenty years of marriage i’ve missed out on.” emily replied, cheeks flushing as everyone cheered and whooped.

“when? where? what’s the plan?” garcia pestered.

“i don’t know penelope, she only just left. plus with our work load who knows when i’ll be able to actually take her out.”

garcia shook her head in determination, “mark my words, i will make sure this happens. i can smell a second wedding already.”

emily looked at the tech analyst in disbelief and jj seemed to get the hint. “alright cupid, let’s leave emily to ponder her date ideas.” emily gave jj a grateful look as she watched her corral everyone out of her office.

second wedding was a bit extreme but she really did hope between her and garcia’s wishful thinking that she’d be out with y/n very soon.

-

“took you long enough. i thought you might’ve changed your mind.” y/n grinned as the hostess brought her over to emily.

emily stood with a sheepish smile, it had been 3 weeks since y/n had popped back into her life and as much as she wanted to get their date on the books— serial killers really stopped at nothing. “trust me, if i’d had it my way we would’ve been doing this far sooner. but alas, serial killers don’t care about my social life.”

y/n laughed softly pulling emily into a hug, “well i’m glad you could pencil me in. between solving your murders and jetting all over the US.”

“you make it sound so glamorous.” emily chuckled, pulling the seat out for y/n and taking her own seat.

“well there is a sort of luxury involved with having a jet.” y/n replied with a shrug.

emily rolled her eyes affectionately, “sure, when you’re not on your way to a gruesome crime scene.”

“well you got me there, you always did have a stronger stomach than me when it came to all that criminal stuff.” y/n smiled as she pulled the menu open.

“you know me, compartmentalizing at its finest.” emily shrugged opening her own menu as well.

“ah ah ah, i was there when you invented that excuse. it didn’t work then and it won’t work now.” y/n tsked.

“you really haven’t changed.” emily smiled with a content sigh.

“you know what i always say, if it not broke—“ y/n started.

“don’t fix it.” emily finished just as the waitress returned to take their order. with orders placed, a bottle of wine poured they both settled into a familiar volley.

“so you seem to know everything that’s happened to me in the last twenty years but i’m a little in the dark.”

“well i only know what your mother knows, which im sure isn’t much considering it’s your mother. but i’ll bite. after you graduated, i finished out law school. i think by then you’d started you undercover work though. started working and haven’t stopped since.”

emily nodded, “right right, and you got engaged while you were married to me.”

y/n scoffed with a laugh, “hey! you’re one to talk, miss i had to be resurrected. my engagement— while short lived was a big mistake. i was young and tired of being alone. but as i said before finding out i was still married was the least of my worries then.”

emily nodded sadly, knowing the pressures of loneliness very well. “loneliness will do that. also can i just explain my whole death arc, so you’ll stop holding it against me?”

“absolutely, be my guest.”

“so there was this super evil guy, i went under and he kinda fell in love with me—“

“fell in love with my wife?”

“shh! yes unfortunately he did. well obviously he went down for his crimes but he escaped prison and came after my team. and he really wanted me dead and impaled me with a chair leg.”

“a chair leg?! you can’t be serious.”

“yes a chair leg, and he got away. so it wasn’t exactly safe for me to be living and that led to me faking my death. and spending my recovery alone in paris.” emily explained.

“well where the hell is he now?”

“dead. my team was very adamant about avenging my death.” emily smiled watching the younger woman nod in approval.

“good. nobody murders my wife and gets away with it.” y/n glared before winking over at emily.

both women talked over their food, flirting like old times, and really just enjoying each other’s company. once their plates had been cleared, a waitress brought out a slice of pie with the words “happy anniversary” drizzled across the plate.

“well well well, you weren’t kidding when you said you wanted to make up for those missed anniversaries.” y/n smiled, holding a spoonful of pie out for emily to eat. she accepted the offered sweet treat with a furious blush, but couldn’t help to think just how whipped she still was for this woman.

-

emily sighed happily, pulling y/n through the streets of dc. one of y/n hands was wrapped in her own while the other held a bouquet of flowers emily had purchased no their post-dinner walk. when they made it back to the parking lot, they reluctantly walked over to y/n’s car together.

y/n grinned as she leaned against the hood of her car, emily’s hand still in her own. she watched as a smile curled on emily’s lips and at the sight of that dimple y/n pulled her as close as she could out in the parking lot. “well em, i must say this was a rather enjoyable belated anniversary celebration. i can only think of one thing to make it perfect.”

“oh really, and what would that be? you know i’ve always strived for perfection.” emily asked, eyes flickering between y/n’s eyes and lips.

“you always were an overachiever. glad to see that’s still the same.” y/n grinned, pulled emily into a kiss that lit their bodies on fire. if there was one thing emily prentiss could do, the woman could kiss. and 20 years seemed to only add to her skills. y/n held out for as long as she could but when could feel her heartbeat in her ears she reluctantly pulled away to breathe. emily looked down at her smugly and pushed a lock of hair out of her face. boy did she miss that.

“next anniversary is on me?” y/n whispered against emily’s lips.

“well i sure like the sound of that.” emily agreed easily.

one anniversary down, only about 19 more to go.

[me-sploh-rada-imas]

so i wrote down everything kris said in the spoken part of the q&a bit of the discord live thing and shared it on the joblr discord, but @leopardom suggested i collate it all here as well!

will there be an mv?

yes, definitely, cannot say exactly when. but we have a very good idea for it and i can't say anything right now. a lot of our balkan fans will be very excited about it. we might drop it after the song gets an x amount of streams. maybe 500,000 or something like that. i am not the person who decides.

how long did it take you to record?

complex question. in hamburg we spent 3-4 days on it and recorded 70%. mostly everything except the vocals and some synths. the rest was around a month in ljubljana to finish it, then we mixed it for 2-3 weeks. (mod jokes about sharing there were eight versions in the openstage, kris is confused) more of trying to catch a feeling than a specific sound, that's why. it's hard to communicate that with a mixing engineer. usually it takes about that many versions before we're satisfied.

what was the thought process behind the cover art?

the photo was taken by mark pirc. the artwork seems random at this moment, i can't say much, but it will make a lot of sense.

why did you decide to remove the intro?

i've seen some people asking about this. there's the two-sided nature of playing music before it's officially released. we weren't satisfied with it on tour but it was presentable to be played live. when we got to hamburg we decided we didn't like the arrangement anymore, it wasn't in line with the vibe and spirit of the composition of the song. we toned it down and made it more sensitive because of the lyrics and mood of the song.

bojan said in warsaw that final version would have more instruments (confusion by kris that he was talking about bluza?)

i have no idea what he said, maybe he was referencing the fact that we played the pijano version of the song. but there are like at least maybe 3 or 4 layers of synthesisers and pianos so maybe he was thinking of that. all of those are credited to our "piano playing god jan". i did the guitars apart from the acoustic which is bojan's doing. nace and jure did their parts on drums and bass. the future live performances will be the new version.

who were your biggest influences getting to the final mixed version?

good question. i don't think we had one specific song in mind. we felt like it's a ex-yugoslavian evergreenish kind of song which we grew up listening to, we just wanted to keep that vibe while transitioning from an acoustic song to a complete arrangement. i think we succeeded. i know during the recording process žare said he would liken this song to a song by simple minds or talking heads or something like that, i'd have to look it up. also it kind of gives me the same feeling as when listening to a song by plavi orkestar called od rođendana do rođendana.

we saw bojan post a photo [of a notebook page] with stolica bluza while in london, what was the development process from that?

the first memory i have of the song is bojan coming into the living room and having the lyrics of the first verse and chorus already written, trying to figure out the chords. it was a well-defined song when i first heard it, i can't speak to his initial perception of the song, it came out of him very quickly, which is always a good sign. i think we all very quickly understood what the assignment was with this song so to speak. often we get a song where we want to arrange it and do it but have a lot of figuring out to do, but this song was very clear cut. it fell into place very quickly by our standards.

playing the unfinished song live was an experiment, did you like the process?

it's not the first time we've done it but it's the first time in a long time we've played unreleased songs. we did it before the first album, which was a whole different experience. it's been interesting to see it play out in this international surrounding. i think it did help, especially for šta bih ja, which immediately gained a very positive reception from the crowd and gave us a lot of confidence and direction. we knew we didn't have to change much for šta bih ja, while with bluza we kind of knew this wasn't really what we wanted from the song.

can we expect more songs similar to bluza?

uhhh... i'm sick if you can hear it. i think there will be like one more song comparable to bluza, also in serbian, a bit more slow paced, but the rest won't be that similar. there's only a limited amount of space for that type of song, we don't want to repeat ourselves. hopefully the album will sound like a unified body of work but there's still a lot of variation in it to satisfy our desire for, i don't know, experimenting with new sounds and song types and concepts.

[mintaikk]

Was thinking about how everyone in Eddie's life assumed that him and Venom were a couple, and then I realized:

Dan assumes that Venom and Eddie are a couple ("man those two needs some serious couple's counseling"), and most of the info he gets from Venom and Eddie is from Anne.

Anne was Venom's temporary host, and when he was in Anne, the first thing that he wanted to do when he saw Eddie again was kiss him. Anne even admits that it was Venom's idea. Also, she had access to all Venom's emotions (symbiosis and all of that), so she probably felt Venom's love for Eddie.

Venom went inside of Mrs. Chen temporarily, and from Mrs. Chen's perspective; Eddie's weird parasite comes in without him and is heartbroken. Okay, she'll care for him. But like Anne, bcuz of symbiosis, she is able to feel Venom's emotions and also felt how heartbroken Venom was and how much he cared for/loved Eddie.

Also, that scene in Let There Be Carnage where Venom was inside Dan for like two seconds. Same thing with Mrs. Chen and Anne: felt Venom's emotions and realized how much he cared for/loved Eddie.

Girl, literally EVERYONE here has fused with Venom, and they ALL came to the conclusion that the Pathetic, Sad, Sweaty Man and the Alien Parasite are in love. I find that so weirdly sweet