#pacing around to the point that i wear a hole into the carpet

[sarahjacobs]

sometimes im like. normal and then i remember that jack and david literally had a romcom meeting.

[munson-blurbs]

Joker!Eddie Munson x Harley Quinn!Reader

Summary: You're a psychologist who has always done the right thing. Enter Eddie Munson, mandated to attend court-ordered counseling sessions, who has a devilish side you can't resist.

WC: 2.9k

Warnings: dark fic, loosely based on Joker and Harley's story, mention of drug dealing, mention of parental abandonment and death, murder, ex!Jason Carver/Harvey Dent, arson, power imbalance, allusions to smut

A/N: Before y'all say anything, I know that Joker and Harley have a toxic relationship. Eddie and Reader bring out the worst in each other, but this is *clears throat* FANFIC! So long live these fake toxic relationships. And big thank you to @corroded-hellfire for her help with the lore. Happy Halloween!

Divider credit to @saradika

Eddie Munson didn’t sit down once for the entire duration of his first session. 

Most of your clients opted for the couch. The more nervous ones sitting so close to the worn cushion’s edge that they nearly fell off, while the more experienced ones practically lounged as they recounted whatever horrors had occurred since their last session. 

Eddie paced back and forth, his Reeboks wearing a hole in the mildewed carpet, only pausing when he needed to light a cigarette. 

“I mean, this is bullshit.” He took a drag and exhaled a cloud of smoke. “Twenty fuckin’ years, I get shoved to the side, and now they think some shrink is gonna fix all my problems?”

‘They’ most likely referred to Chief Hopper, who had been the one to recommend Eddie receive court-mandated therapy instead of serving time in jail for possession with intent to distribute. The police chief had become soft ever since adopting that teenage daughter, which was probably why Eddie was in your dingy office rather than behind bars. 

Your gaze flicked over the tattoos on his arms, visible where he’d cut his shirt sleeves, and looked him in the eyes. “Have you been to therapy before, Eddie?”

He threw his head back and laughed so violently that you dropped your pen. Before you could reach for it, Eddie picked it up and placed it in your lap, his fingertips grazing the hem of your skirt. 

“After my dad got locked up for, oh, I dunno, the tenth time?” Eddie shook his head and laughed again, though this one was quieter. “My uncle took me to talk to some shrink. Turns out that my old man had actually stolen the guy’s car. Small fuckin’ world, huh?” He scratched at the nape of his neck. “Yeah, he told us never to come back. So we didn’t.”

Your heart broke for the child he once was, rejected by a therapist while coping with his father’s incarceration. “Where was your mother?” You asked softly. 

Eddie flicked some ash into the ashtray. “She’d been dead for a while at that point.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that.”

“Don’t be.” His face lit up, smiling too hard to properly take another drag of his cigarette. “At least she didn’t have to deal with any of this shit. All she had to do was be worm food.”

The visual made your stomach turn, but Eddie was grinning. 

“Aww, c’mon, Sweetheart” he pouted jokingly, snuffing out his cigarette. “You gotta appreciate some dark humor once in a while.”

The nickname would have earned any other man a stern look, maybe even a warning for dismissal, but it felt so right coming from Eddie. 

“Do you use humor to cope?” 

He twisted a skull ring around his finger and walked over to where you sat before crouching down in front of you. 

“I appreciate what you’re trying to do here.” One hand found your knee, his nail catching on a run in your black tights. Eddie peered up at you, lips twisting into an unsettling smile. “But I’m not dealing because I’m sad or trying to fill a void left behind by my parents. I’m doing it to survive in this shithole.”

He rose then and resumed his pacing while he ranted. “We can sit here all goddamn day and talk about my daddy issues, or my mommy issues, or how the system failed poor Eddie Munson over and over and over. And maybe I’ll leave here feeling slightly less shitty about myself. But you know what that won’t do?” He didn’t wait for your response. “It won’t put food on the table or keep the lights on. It won’t stop the bank from taking my trailer. Greedy bastards.”

Only when you remained silent did Eddie glance over at you with his wide brown eyes, as though he’d just remembered his speech had an audience. “You can put all that in your notes. Show it to Chief Hopper, to the judge; I don’t care.”

You closed the marble notebook perched in your lap and capped your pen. “I’m not trying to fix you, Eddie,” you said. “I just want to know you.”

“No, you don’t.” Eddie huffed out a chuckle. “You wanna get inside my brain. You can’t help it. I’m an interesting guy.”

He was. You’d always been interested in understanding people; how they thought and how it affected their behaviors. It was why you chose a career in psychology. But Eddie had something beyond that—a magnetic pull that drew you in, no matter how many times you silently reminded yourself to maintain those professional boundaries. 

For the remaining twenty minutes of your session, you dug for as much information about Eddie as you could get. He played guitar, took six years to graduate high school because of an algebra teacher who was determined to flunk him, and kept a notebook of his own to plan Dungeons & Dragons campaigns.

If you didn’t have another client immediately after him, you would have let him keep talking. You clung to every word like a lifeline, noting the little mannerisms peppered into his personality. 

Eddie spoke with his hands and ran his fingers through his knotted curls when he was particularly agitated or passionate about a topic. His nose scrunched when he asked questions that required your approval. He’d lick his lips every so often, and his tongue poked out of his mouth when he was concentrating. Every movement was intoxicating.

Your next session was more of the same, though this time, Eddie actually sat down on the couch. He lit a cigarette before speaking, taking a drag and holding it out to you. 

You watched the smoke curl around his fingertips, beckoning you to accept his offer. It was wrong; sure, you could smoke during a session, but to share a cigarette with a client? You shouldn’t. You couldn’t. 

You did. 

“There ya go,” Eddie murmured under his breath, watching your chest rise with the inhale and fall with the exhale. “Sweetheart, ya gotta take the edge off once in a while. Do something that makes you smile.”

You cocked your head teasingly, holding the cigarette hostage for a moment longer. “Aren’t I supposed to be helping you?”

“We can help each other.” He plucked the cigarette from your grasp. “Watch.”

Your gaze stayed on his lips, full and slightly chapped from the bitter winter, as he inhaled deeply. He crooked a finger, and your body moved of its own volition to the spot beside him. 

His thumb pulled at your lower lip, a question he could already answer. His mouth found yours, not in a kiss, but just to transfer the smoke he’d been holding back; tobacco mixed with a subtle hint of spearmint. 

“How do you feel now?” Eddie hadn’t moved back, and you felt every word he spoke. 

All you could do was nod, focusing every ounce of energy on going back to your chair. The distance suddenly seemed too far; any distance from Eddie seemed too far. You wanted to be in his lap, sharing the remainder of that cigarette, drawing you in closer…

Swallowing your steadily building desire, you forced yourself to ask him a question that didn’t pertain to the way he tasted. “W-What was it like moving in with your uncle?”

Eddie laughed darkly, taking in your nervousness like he knew exactly how brainless he’d made you. “My uncle, huh? All right, I’ll bite” He stretched, revealing a thin trail of hair that started at his navel and dipped below the waist of his jeans. There was a sick gleam in his eyes when he caught you staring, but he said nothing about it.

He told you about a police officer dropping him off on Wayne Munson’s doorstep in the middle of the night after his father had been arrested. 

“Just me and a trash bag full of clothes that barely fit me,” he proclaimed. “Oh, and the headlice tagging along. Ended up having to shave these gorgeous locks.” He shook his head to exaggerate his point.

“That must’ve been really traumatic for you.” You tapped your pen on your notebook absently, somewhat aware that you should be writing this information down, but not able to look away from him.

Eddie shrugged. “Not really. It grew back.”

“I meant…never mind.” You tucked your lips into your mouth to stifle a giggle.

He looked as though he wanted to say something, but your actions distracted him.

“Don’t hide your smile.” He ran his tongue over his teeth, letting you feel the gravity saturating his words. “Makes me happy when you smile.”

“I didn’t want you to think I was laughing at you.”

He clicked his tongue in mock sympathy, like he pitied you. It was a gesture you were unused to seeing from your clients. “You wouldn’t be the first, Sweetheart.” Eddie sat forward. “You might have been the first to feel bad about it, though.”

Over the following weeks, your sessions with Eddie followed the same routine. You would ask him questions and he would answer them cryptically. Shared cigarettes became more frequent as you convinced yourself it was good for building rapport.

In the early days of spring, where winter’s chill still peeked in each morning, Eddie opened the door to your office and found you crying in your chair. Most clients waited for you to get them from the waiting room, but he always let himself in.

The moment you heard the hinges creaking, you swiped at the tears dampening your cheeks. Embarrassment flooded your veins and heated you from the inside out at the thought of him seeing you in such a vulnerable state.

He was at your side in a heartbeat, reaching for the tissue box you kept on your bookshelf. “What’s wrong?” There was venom in his tone, ready to bite at a moment’s notice.

“N-Nothing,” you lied clumsily, convincing neither him nor yourself. “Just a bad day.”

Eddie gritted his teeth. “Don’t fuckin’ do that, Sweetheart.” He grabbed your chin and brought your full attention with it. “Don’t fuckin’ lie to me. Not when I’ve been honest with you.”

The story spilled out before you could think better of it: You’d woken up that morning to your ex-boyfriend banging on your front door, screaming to let you in, his slurred words informing you that he was drunk. Calling the police would be futile; he was buddies with the whole department and more than likely had them in his back pocket. All you could think to do in that moment was hide under your covers until he eventually gave up and left.

Eddie tensed, never losing his grip on you. “Did he hurt you?” His breathing quickened, fight-or-flight activated. “I swear to God, Sweetheart, if he put his hands on you–”

“No,” you hurriedly assured him. “No, he just scared me. But Jason’s never–” Your eyes widened when you said his name aloud; all at once, you realized your error.

“Jason…Carver?” Eddie’s eyes narrowed. “The hell were you doing with an asshole like him?” He shook his head before you could answer. “Never mind. Doesn’t matter. All that matters is that he never bothers you again.” Rage flashed in his eyes. “Just say the word, and I’ll do it.”

You furrowed your brows. “What do you mean?” There was no way…he wouldn’t…

He crossed his arms over his chest, obscuring the view of the devil on his shirt. “Do you remember a few years ago when Harrington Enterprises was planning to shut down the plant to build those luxury condos?”

You nodded, wondering where he was going with this. Warren Harrington had all but signed on the dotted lines, but he’d been murdered in his own home before he closed the deal. Rumor had it that his own son, Steve, had orchestrated it in order to gain control of the family fortune. An investigation came up without any suspects, and the plant remained open. 

“If they had their way, my uncle and all of his buddies would be out of a job, and then they’d lose their cars, their homes…well, you know how it goes.” Eddie smirked. “So I did what I had to do to stop that from happening.”

“You…” you lowered your voice in case anyone was listening in, “you killed Warren Harrington?”

He bristled preemptively, only relaxing when he didn’t detect any  judgment. “I’d do anything to protect the people I love.” Eddie’s palms cupped your cheeks, the calluses scratching at your skin. “I’ll kill Carver if it’ll keep you safe, Sweetheart. You won’t have to worry about him anymore.”

Everything about this was wrong. He was threatening to commit homicide for you because he loved you. 

You needed to stop this. It had gone too far. And yet you couldn’t, not when he was pleading to let him take care of you. All of your career, all of your life, you had been expected to clean up everyone else’s messes. You were the one who fixed other people’s mistakes, who solved their problems. To lift that burden from your shoulders, to let someone else take it on…

“I love you, too, Eddie.” You reached out and took his steady hands in your trembling ones. “I love you so much.”

“Okay. Good.” Eddie sighed deeply, leaning in and pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. There was a flicker of amusement when he pulled back and saw the concern on your face. “C’mon, baby. You should be happy. Here.” He reached behind your chair and grabbed your bag, rummaged through it. Deft fingers uncapped your ruby red lipstick and drew a Black Dahlia smile on his lips, extending from one clean-shaven cheek to the other. “Now, close your eyes.”

You did as he asked, placing full trust in him. You expected him to draw a similar smile on you; instead, he pressed his mouth to yours, transferring some of the makeup to your face.

The words I love you kept falling from your lips, muffled only by the hungry kisses you eagerly gave and accepted. Zippers were unfastened, buttons undone, clothes strewn across your office floor. For a moment, the only sounds were the soft moans and panting breaths that punctuated the silence. It was love, and it was perfect.

It all happened so fast.

You woke up the next morning to sirens blaring down the street, a never-ending parade of noise and flashing lights. There was no way Eddie had already done something to Jason; you’d just talked about it yesterday. Killing one of Hawkins’ most beloved citizens would certainly take more than twelve hours of deliberation.

If Eddie had struck, he wouldn’t have been able to escape unnoticed. 

Black smoke billowed from one of the Loch Nora mansions, visible even in the less wealthy parts of town. You could hear your neighbors clamoring, and the consensus was that it was the Carver house that was burning to the ground.

You drove straight to the county jail, not even stopping off at work or letting them know you wouldn’t be in. The fear of being reprimanded paled in comparison to Eddie’s fate.

Flashing your government ID, you bolted through the doors and blew past the guards. Sure enough, Eddie Munson sat behind the bars of a cell, head in his beautiful hands. The same hands that had touched you just yesterday, fumbling with the tiny buttons of your blouse. The man who was larger than life during your sessions suddenly seemed so small.

“Puddin’?” 

Eddie glanced up when he heard the nickname you’d given him. “Baby, I…I didn’t kill him. I tried, but he got out. Forgot that rich people have those smoke detector things,” he added with a wry smile. It was then that you saw that his mouth was still stained with remnants of your lipstick. “But when he ran out of the house it looked like half of his face had burned off.”

Of course he’d stuck around to see the aftermath of his destruction.

“We can talk about this later. Okay?” You lowered your voice to a whisper. “We’re getting out of town. And we’re never coming back. I’m gonna tell the guards that I’m taking you out for a therapy session. Just follow my lead.”

Eddie was uncharacteristically quiet, so much so that you worried the guards might apprehend him because he wasn’t talking. Their narrowed eyes followed you and Eddie until you exited the building.

“My girl is a natural-born deceiver.” Eddie laced his fingers with yours. “So proud.”

You laughed. “If they gave us any trouble, I might’ve had to knock them out with their own clubs.” When you started towards your sedan, Eddie tugged you in the opposite direction. “My car is–”

“Forget it. Leave it here.” His eyes scanned the parking lot. “We’ll take that one.” He clocked your confusion and let out a raucous laugh. “Al Munson may have been a deadbeat, but he did teach me one thing.”

You slipped your arm around his waist. “Looks like I have a lot to learn.” 

“It’s gonna be me and you against the world, baby.” Eddie pulled you closer and whispered in your ear. “We’re gonna knock ‘em dead.”

--

[allfearstofallto]

C, H, I, L, D, E for Childe 😋😋!! (Keeping up with the theme of Childe lovers in ur ask box)

YOU CHILDE FANS MAKE ME SICK!!

Anyways, this was so fucking fun to write, thanks you!!

TW: finishing inside, breeding, public sex, oral (m. receiving), cum eating, prostitution (??) (kinda?? spoilers he fucks for information)

ABSOLUTELY 18+ MINORS DNI

C um - Anything to do with cum, basically

His seed is precious. It's what he'll use to make children with you soon, so why shouldn't it be deep inside you? Your tight hole swallows him so much, it's able to take a little more. No matter what position he fucks you in, whether it's on your back with your legs up, or bent over whatever piece of furniture is the closest, he finishes inside you. He holds steady with his hips pressed against yours until every drop of him is inside you. His favorite part is pulling out and watching his cum dribble out, happy to have bred you with it.

H air - How well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes?

Orange is his hair color across his whole body, including down below. Coming from Snezhnaya, where the cold is constant, he isn't partial to shaving any of it. Childe makes sure it's well groomed, trimming it if it ever gets too long or uncomfortable, but he prefers his pubic hairs longer.

The sight of you with your lips around his cock is already outstanding, but when he forces your head down, making you take him all the way to base, he hisses in delight. Your nose pressed against his long patch of pubes, drool and slobber leaking down onto it messily, makes him never want to cut it.

I ntimacy - How are they during the moment? The romantic aspect

He can fuck you until you're weak in the knees, unable to stand the next morning and he does like it better this way. But he also is able to be slow and sensual as well. If you're good to him, he's good to you, bringing you to the point of multiple orgasms with his fingers and tongue.

Even he can't stand a slow pace for too long though and eventually he'll start fucking into you roughly against, his dick aching for relief. But he'll still kiss you all over, praising you for taking him so well.

L ocation - Favorite places to do the do

Childe prefers places that are semi public. Places where he could get caught, but most likely won't. Places where even if a person were to walk by, the act could be covered quickly and with ease.

His favorite is the living room of his manor, with all the large windows open. You'd still be wearing your long dress, just with your panties pulled to the side and with his cock was pulled from his pants. Your bounce up and down on his dick, the fabric of your dress being enough to cover the scene. If anyone were to see, they'd think you were just too lovers, cuddling together on the couch. Little did they know he was actively creaming your insides as they walked past.

D irty secret - Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs

As much as he doesn't like to admit it, he doesn't let his cum go to waste. If you're not there to swallow it down in your mouth or pussy, then he'll drink it himself. He cums into his hand and laps it up, letting the salty liquid flow into his mouth.

Originally he did it out of what felt like obligation, but as time went on, he started to enjoy it. A part of him secretly got off on swallowing it himself, his cock growing hard as he remembered the taste.

E xperience - How experienced are they? Do they know what they're doing?

He's just about as experienced as you'd expect from someone with a face as pretty as his. Women fall at his feet constantly, so of course he's had his fair share of tastes. His perceptiveness is what really sells him though. His ability to tell slight differences in moans, or even feeling which spots make you tighten more than others.

His skills are used for more than one off flings though. While he prefers to do things the brute force way, he knows that not all missions can be solved with fists. The best way to get information out of someone, is to give them what they want, and usually that thing is his body. He'll blow their mind in bed for the right price, a deal is a deal, after all.

[hellfireloserclub]

Raiders of the lost ark

May24 @steddiemicrofic |510 words | prompt top |rating G

Steve was watching Eddie pace the aisle of family video, he had been doing the same circuit for the last twenty or so minutes. 

Up through the kids’ section, double back through the horror-at some point Keith was going to realize that wasn't the best planning. It was one miss shelved critters of deadtime stories away from corporate being called. Steve wasn't going to point it out, he didn't get paid enough- then making a circle around new releases before doing a loop of Sci fi and fantasy. 

Not that Steve wasn't enjoying the quality time with Eddie. His crush was growing by the day so Any time spent observing the man was time well spent. 

But the pacing was getting irritating, especially when Steve knew the thing he was looking for was tucked in Steve’s vest pocket, where it had been since the other man dropped it counting his pocket change to pay his fine.

“Eddie, you're gonna wear a hole in the carpet man,” Steve said as he input the new releases into the computer, wiping the hefty fine belonging to Eddie that had definitely not been covered by the couple of quarters that the metal head had thrown on the counter. 

At least Eddie was occupied and Steve could get on with his job with bare minimum distraction.

“I can’t believe I lost it.” Eddie muttered to himself ignoring Steve completely.

“Eddie.”

“I'm an idiot, why wouldn’t I just put it back on? I never take it off…” The muttering disappeared around the back of the back to the future cutout for what felt like the millionth time. 

“EDDIE!” Steve tried again. 

This time Eddie did stop, head popping out from behind Micheal J Fox’s back with a deep scowl etched between his eyebrows. 

“You going to tell me what you're looking for?” Steve asked coming around the counter to join him now he had finished his list of jobs. “Indiana Jones didn’t search this hard for the lost ark.”

Eddie flipped him off, continuing on his quest, knowing that Steve would follow him, regardless. “I dropped Mom’s ring. I took it off earlier after I had nacho's cause I got Cheese everywhere and shoved it in my pocket, and now I can’t find it.” 

“Well Indy. We have top men working on it right now.” Steve said sagely. Eddie stopped in his tracks. 

“Who?” Eddie asked, turning to face him. 

“Top. Men.” Steve said 

“As adorable as you being a nerd is Harrington, I need to find-” Eddie lost his train of thought as Steve pulled the missing ring out of his pocket, presenting it with an almost Eddie worthy flourish. Eddie moved forward clambering to get the ring back on his finger. Once it was in place, he pulled Steve into a bone breaking hug.

“Steve, you life saver, I could kiss you.”  

“I wouldn’t stop you.” Steve muttered without thinking. 

It took a second, but Steve could see the exact moment Eddie finally understood. 

“Oh Stevie, at least let me buy you dinner first.” 

[allisluv]

Hii I was thinking about finnick and reader when they are with her family and like someone tells her that she gained a little weight, that she needs to eat less and like they maybe give her less food than for the others. Finnick knows about her insecurities and is like really mad, but doesn't do anything except comfort her with like holding hands, his pretty smiles. But when things get worse, he finally says something and confronts her family. I don't know if he'll react really angry or will just say it with a serious tone. I love protective finnick with my whole entire heart💗 And he showers her with compliments and tells her how beautiful she is, that she shouldn't listen to anyone if she's healthy and feeling good in her body

-🎸

birthday — f.o’d

pairing: fem!reader x fiancé!finnick

content warnings: degrading comments about weight, shitty parents, discussions regarding food, protective finnick, readers birthday. this work may be triggering for people recovering from eating disorders.

word count: 1.1k

"You're gonna wear a hole into the carpet if you keep pacing, honey."

Your fiance's amused voice causes you to spin around on your heels. Finnick's strides are full of purpose as he heads towards you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling your back flush to his chest. "It'll be fine and if it's not, we can always kick your parents out and stuff our face with birthday cake. How does that sound?" He smiles into your neck, feeling your pulse point jump in erratic patterns. "It's going to be okay."

Turning to face him, you offer him a weary smile.

Finnick knows about your strained relationship with both food and your parents, which is why he was surprised to hear you had invited them over for your birthday dinner— well, they invited themselves, but you couldn't bear to correct him; regardless of the technicalities, it wouldn't change the fact that they were coming over. "Thanks," you peck his pink lips, winding your arms around his neck. "It means alot."

As if on cue, a knock echoes through your house in Victor's village. Finnick can feel your muscles tense underneath his hands and he's quick to rub soothing circles into the skin of your back. "Breathe," he reminds you, placing your hand over his heart so you can match the beats with your own.

Another knock sounds, this time more insistent, and you step apart. Wiping your damp palms in the fabric of your cream-coloured dress, you take a steadying breath, just as Finnick had instructed, and move to answer the front door.

Your father tugs you into his arms almost straight away. Over his shoulder, you can see your mother's condescending gaze dragging over the length of your body, lingering on your stomach.Finally, your father lets you go, and steps to the side for your mother to have a turn.

"Hi, sweetheart," she chirps, voice high-pitched and sugary. “Oh goodness, feels like someone needs to lay off the carbs a little!" She pinches at the skin of your stomach, laughing at your expense.

Finnick's reassuring hand comes to rest on your lower back, his palm squeezing gently, giving you a silent reminder that he's with you. It's such a small gesture but it makes the weight in your chest easier to carry. "Shall we sit down? Everything should be ready right about now. I’ll go check," you say, steering the topic away from choppy waters.

Your parents sit at the table, making quiet conversation together as you and Finnick work to get things ready in the kitchen. You're placing a tray of salmon down on the marble countertop when Finnick's arms wrap around your waist. "You don't have to put up with this, you know that, right?" His breath tickles the nape of your neck, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.

You practically melt into his touch, leaning your head back until it's resting on his shoulder. "I know," you whisper, eyes drifting to your mother and father at the dining room table. "It's just for one evening.”

Finnick's not sure if you're reminding him or yourself with that statement, but he chooses to leave it as it is.

“If you're sure," he presses a chaste kiss to your forehead and leaves you craving his warmth when he pulls away to pick up a tray of vegetables.

Dinner passes as smoothly as expected. Your mother makes snarky remarks about how much you're eating and how Finnick will never be able to carry someone of your weight on your wedding day.

He offers your mother a tight-lipped smile, holding his tongue and clenching his jaw out of respect. He kisses the silver ring on your finger and squeezes your hand when either one of them say something particularly hurtful.

"Shall we have dessert?" Finnick asks, clapping his hands together. "I think it's time for the birthday girl to be spoiled rotton," he grins, pecking your lips.

Your mother leans forward on her elbows, a mean smile pulling at the corners of her lips. "If you ask me, I think someone needs to lay off the dessert."

Growing up in a hostile household gave you thick skin, and although you can handle your mother's sniping remarks, your bottom lip wobbles and that's Finnick's last straw. "It's a good thing no one asked you, then, isn't it?" He snaps, dropping your hand and crossing his arms over his chest.

Your mother pauses and it's as if Finnick has just leant across the table and smacked her across the face. "I beg your pardon?"

"You'll be begging for a lot more than my pardon if you speak to my fianceé like that again!" Finnick exclaims, losing his patience (and quickly, for that matter). Your chest swells with pride when he opens his mouth and says, "You know what, she's too polite to say it, so Iwill. You need to leave." He stands to his feet, crossing the room in a few quick strides and holding open the front door. "Now."

Your father sneers at Finnick like he's shit on his shoe and your mother's burning hot glare slides across the table to you. "Do you want us to leave?"

Knowing that Finnick has your back is enough to build your confidence up. "I'd like you to leave now.”

Your mother throws her linen napkin onto the table and scrapes her chair along the mahogany floorboards. "Fine." She rushes out the front door, brushing shoulders with Finnick as she goes, and your father is quick to follow after her.

Once the front door is securely closed, you release a breath you didn't even realise you were holding in.

Finnick runs a hand through his golden locks of hair. "I'm so sorry if I overstepped, I just can't sit there and watch them tear you down when you're the most beautiful girl I've ever laid eyes on. It just makes me so—“

You press your lips firmly against his, quickly and sufficiently shutting him up. His tongue slips into your mouth and your fingers rake up his back. Panting and heaving for breath, you break the kiss first, ignoring the desperate whine that escapes his throat. "I love you."

“I love you more," Finnick says. It's clear that you don't want to talk about it anymore and he's never been one to push you when you're not ready. “Why don't we fill our face with some of that chocolate cake and throw on my perfect girl's favourite rom-com?"

You smile, reaching up onto your tippy-toes to kiss his cheek. "That sounds perfect."

[marauders-brain-rot]

How Sweet It Is (To Be Loved By You)

Wrote a really heavy and quite depressing chapter today and needed to fix my brain by writing something cute and fluffy. So, here is 1,468 words of pure Wolfstar fluff. (No Voldy/war, honestly could be with or without actual magic, I don’t make it clear either way so if you want it to be a muggle au then it can be or if you just want it to be a no Voldy au that works too)

Sirius was almost certain he’d wear a hole in the carpet long before Remus got home. He’d been pacing for hours now, his stomach tied in knots thinking about that night and what would come of it. 

It was their anniversary, eight years together as an official couple and tonight would change everything for them. They’d had nights like these before, the kind that would imprint themselves on their memories and brand themselves across their skin, tying them irrevocably together in a way that no one else would ever understand. 

The first was when they’d confessed their love for one another, never ones to do things by halves, that had been the night they’d first gotten together. They’d danced around their feelings for a while before that, their friendship always coming first, until one night where they couldn’t take the tension between them any longer. There’d been a screaming match that ended in a passionate kiss and finally a confession of their undying love for one another. They ended that night wrapped together in Remus’s bed in the boys dormitory, foreheads pressed together and bodies intertwined to the point where it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began. 

The next one had been when they decided to get a place of their own, another night full of tears and kisses. They’d gotten a place with James and Peter as soon as they’d left school, wanting to be out on their own but still with their closest friends, who had really become more like brothers. The years spent in that flat had been some of the best of their lives, the nights spent drunk on the floor and sprawled across the furniture would live in their minds forever, as spotty as those memories were. But, they needed their own space. It had been Remus who had said something first, though Sirius had thought it for a while. He loved their little flat with their two best mates, but sometimes he wanted to be alone with the man he loved, wanted to spend nights and days wrapped in one another’s arms without feeling like it was an intrusion on their friends' lives. And so, after a very long and very tear filled discussion, they agreed to start looking. 

Then, they bought their house together. A sanctuary for the two of them that they made entirely their own. Their first night there together was one that he hoped would never leave him, even on his last days on this planet. They’d spent the day unpacking, James and Peter had finally left and the house was quiet at last, something they hadn’t experienced possibly ever. They’d gotten their favourite mugs down from their new home in the cabinet to the left of the sink, poured cups of their favourite tea, put on their favourite James Taylor record and danced in the living room to How Sweet It Is (To Be Loved By You) together with the biggest smiles plastered on their faces.

Then came the night they’d gotten engaged, something that had been magical all on its own. Remus had asked him, because of course he had. Sirius had been planning on asking Remus, but of course he’d beaten him to it. It was private and intimate and unequivocally theirs. If Sirius closed his eyes he could see the rose petals strewn about, the lanterns that lit their home, could smell the undeniable scents of his favourite meal that Remus had spent all day cooking for him. Remus had said some beautiful, wonderful, magical words about how Sirius was his guiding light in the sea of darkness, how he’d have lost himself entirely without him and how he never wanted to bear the pain of living life without the man he’d loved since they were only boys. Sirius kissed him then, couldn’t stand to wait another moment where rings didn’t adorn their fingers claiming them for one another and as soon as Remus placed the one he’d gotten Sirius on his finger, Sirius had sprinted up the steps and practically flown into their room to get the ring he’d gotten for Remus. That night they’d fallen asleep together, their fingers interlocked and rings pressed against one another’s. 

Then, they’d gotten married. It was small, intimate and beautiful, another day with magic thick in the air. Their closest friends were there, and even Regulus came as he and Sirius had mended their relationship years prior, it was everything Sirius had ever wanted. To be able to look into the eyes of the man he loved and tell him how he was the physical embodiment of magic, how he’d loved him for over a decade and still found new reasons to love him every single day, how he had never really known what any kind of love looked like until he’d looked into his eyes. They danced to How Sweet It Is (To Be Loved By You) as their first dance and kissed under the stars in the company of those that loved them most, soaking in every moment of the night together and relishing in the complete togetherness they finally got to experience. 

All of that brought him to now, tonight, a night that would change the rest of their lives just like all the others had. He’d cooked Remus’s favourite meal, gotten his favourite cake from the bakery 45 minutes away and set the house perfectly for the mood. Everything was perfect, everything would be perfect. So why did he feel like something might go wrong? 

He heard the key turning in the lock and felt his breath leave him, there would be no turning back now. As soon as Remus opened the door and saw Sirius standing there a broad smile spread across his face, the confusion coming next as he saw the setting around him. 

“Sirius?” He hadn’t expected them to do anything tonight, Sirius had been planning this surprise for a week now and though their wedding anniversary wasn’t for another month, he felt tonight was the right night. 

“Welcome home, love,” he kissed Remus’s cheek before leading him to the table laden with candles. 

“What’s all this?” His smile was the brightest thing in the room and how Sirius longed for it to last a lifetime. 

“Eat first, we’ll talk after cake.” Was it a slightly cowardly move to put off this conversation? Possibly, but he didn’t want dinner or cake to go to waste if the conversation went how he thought it would. When they’d finally finished eating and the record had stopped for the second time, Remus finally turned expectantly to Sirius. 

“Want to tell me what this is about, love?”

“I want to start off by saying that I love our life here, I love you and I love our home and I love the life we’ve built for ourselves.” He paused, needing his words to sink in before he continued. “And I want you to know that this is because of how much I love you and how much I know you love me, I want us to share our love.”

“Okay?” 

“Do you remember my cousin, Tonks?”

“Of course I do.”

“Right, well, she’s pregnant and she can’t take care of a baby right now. She’s just getting started on her career and she has her whole life ahead of her, she’s in no place to be having a child. But, well, we are.” He paused, waiting for his words to sink in and once they did he watched as Remus’s face transformed entirely. 

“You want to adopt her baby?” The smile on his face rivalled all others Sirius had seen, it practically lit up the world with how brilliant it was. All Sirius could do was nod and swallow nervously. “I would be honoured to have a baby with you.”

That night they laughed and cried, they held onto one another tighter than they ever had before. They got their favourite mugs down from the cabinet to the left of the sink, poured cups of their favourite tea, and put on their favourite James Taylor record and danced around the living room to How Sweet It Is (To Be Loved By You). 

And how sweet it was, really, to love and be loved in return. To have a lifetime of memories together already and a lifetime of them more to look forward to. To know that their love would live beyond them and would change the lives of not only themselves but also of this new little baby they would be adding into their perfect little world and any others they might end up with along the line. They’d chosen one another, chosen love, and chosen life, and how sweet a life it was turning out to be. 

[autistpride]

Autism Acceptance

Prompt day 6: April 6

Amnesia AU

Word count: 1500

@wolfstarmicrofic

Remus was worried that his parents would say no. That they wouldn’t even listen to what he had to say and shut the conversation down. Remus knew he needed less support than he used to, but he was doing so well.

Remus had scripted his pitch in his head daily, sometimes multiple times a day, for the last week. As the number of days increased, so did Remus’ anxiousness. He began to pace and wring his hands. He started to withdraw and stopped speaking.

The change did not go unnoticed and finally Hope called a family meeting to have it out.

“Okay Remus, you’ve been wearing holes in the carpet again and I am pretty sure you should be wearing your compression gloves from how much swelling you’ve caused in your hands over the last week. What’s going on?”

Remus’ knees bounced and his hands clenched on the trousers of his pants. He took a breath and shook out his hands before he rose to his feet and started to move around the room in laps.

“I was talking with Sirius when we had our last date. We went to the skating rink and then had ice cream, you remember?” Remus asked pausing to look at his parents who sat together on the settee.

Lyall motioned with his hand to continue. Remus started to speak and then paused. He tried again and then again. His carefully planned out proposal instead fell from his lips in a single sentence that sounded more like a demand.

“Sirius asked me to move in with him and I want to do it!”

Sirius had asked him to move in with him and Remus wanted to. He wanted to so badly. They had been dating for three years now and while Sirius had his own struggles at times due to his traumatic childhood, he understood Remus in a way no one else ever had.

Sirius and him had met at an autism family event. He was there with his brother Regulus who Remus was sorta friends with already. Of course Remus hadn’t known that Regulus had a brother or that he was as handsome as he was until the day they met.

According to Regulus, it took Sirius two months to coax up the courage to ask Remus out. Remus didn’t believe him with how smooth Sirius was when he finally did ask. But apparently Sirius kept asking Regulus questions about Remus until Regulus got annoyed and dragged Sirius to their weekly autistic adult meet up at the library so Sirius could pester Remus instead of him.

“Okay,” Hope said softly from her place. Lyall smiled a half smile when Remus spun from his pacing and stared at her.

“Really?” he asked, surprised and trying hard not to let his excitement sound in his voice.

“Ya, really. You both have been together for over two years now. He knows your triggers and glimmers and I’ve watched him calm you down from a meltdown as well as support you through your shutdowns. Ya. I think if that’s what you both want, then you should do it. I just worry about your epilepsy dear.” Hope said honestly.

“Sirius knows what my tonic clonic seizures look like mam. He even went with me to my last EMU.” Remus pointed out.

“I know, but what if they get worse again?”

“Hope darling, you can’t keep Remus here forever just because you worry that someone else will ignore all the signs like what happened in the past. Sirius is a very kind and attentive partner. He won't hesitate to call Remus’ provider if he notices anything.”

Hope let out a sigh and stood, pulling Remus down to hug her. Remus mouthed a silent thank you to his da over her shoulder and Lyall returned the gesture with a thumbs up.

Now Remus just had to tell Sirius yes, pack up his stuff, and he would be all ready.

Two years later saw Sirius and Remus happily living together. Oh they had had their fair share of disagreements in the beginning. Remus has resorted to masking around Sirius because he was afraid Sirius wouldn’t love him if he saw the real him all day everyday and not just for their small dates and random sleepovers in the lounge of the Lupin home. This led to a slow shutdown. Sirius tried to communicate to Remus during that time, but Remus was nonspeaking and wouldn’t respond to Sirius’ texts outside of simple replies to questions like, ‘do we need milk?’ After five months, it resulted in a fight that blew up so spectacularly, Remus was surprised that the police hadn’t been called on them.

“Hey Sirius do you know if we ha-” Remus began to ask when his words stopped. His eyes blinked and his plate fell from his hands and clattered onto the floor before Remus shook his head slightly.

“What were you looking for?” Sirius asked as he knelt down to pick up the plate.

“Huh? I'm not looking for anything. Why do you have my plate?” Remus asked, annoyed and took his plate from Sirius’ hands and stalked back to the kitchen.

Sirius sat stunned for a moment before following Remus. “You were. You came in to talk to me about something. Started to ask if I knew if we had something but then you stopped.”

Remus blew the situation off, but the scene replayed in Sirius’ head over and over the rest of the day.

The next time it happened, Remus had been cooking. He was peeling potatoes for supper and that time Sirius ignored the forgetfulness and panicked over the fact that Remus had dragged the potato peeler over his finger and peeled some of his skin away.

The third time, Remus had just finished brushing his teeth and was putting his tooth brush away. Afterwards he argued with Sirius that he had not in fact brushed his teeth and proceeded to brush them a second time.

Multiple times a week Sirius noticed these little things. Forgetting to turn off the hob, looking for his shoes after just putting them on, feeding their cat Fidget two hours after feeding him the first time, and more incidents than Sirius could count of starting to say something and then just staring at Sirius for a moment and having no recollection on what he was saying or even wanting to say.

Sirius finally broke down and demanded that Remus speak to his provider. And despite telling Sirius he was worrying for no reason, Remus agreed and scheduled with them.

Three months more of waiting, where Sirius noted mentally everytime something would occur and then typing them into a long list in the notes app on his cellphone. Three months of Remus telling Sirius that he was wrong, that he didn't or wasn't doing something, and telling Sirius he felt fine.

Four months and another EEG confirmed that Remus’ epilepsy had gotten worse. He now had not one, but three types of seizures, and one of them was causing Remus to have a type of amnesia and the medication he was on was making the third type worse.

Five months and the medications Remus was on were completely different. It had taken a month to safely wean down on one medication and rise to a therapeutic dose with another. But the side effects of switching meds caused Remus to be irritable and lack any appetite. Sirius stuck by Remus’ side through it all and had taken to buying pizza once a week because it was the only food Remus would eat more than a few bites of.

Hope suggested and offered many times to have Lyall pack and move everything back into Remus’ old room so that Sirius wouldn’t have to deal with it. Each time though was met with a narrowed glare and a polite, “no thanks” from Sirius.

Six months and Remus was finally feeling more like himself, despite still not eating much. Remus had read over the list Sirius had made for his neurologist and apologised fiercely to Sirius for the way he had acted. He felt terrible and suggested couples counselling due to the fact that over those few months Sirius had withdrawn and seemed to walk on eggshells around him. Remus hated that he had caused Sirius to feel scared, gaslighted, and condescended to.

Nine months Remus and Sirius were communicating better. They had completed their couples sessions but both still continued on individually.

One year and the two were doing better than ever.

Two years on the new medication was also their seventh year together and one year with Remus’ seizures under control, Sirius insisted on a celebration with all their family.

Remus spent nearly a week pacing holes into the carpet anytime Sirius wasn’t home. He scripted his words until he knew them by heart. None of that practice mattered as Sirius and Remus proposed to each other at the same time. They said yes.

[readerghxst]

𝐎𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐏𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 || TLOS Fanfic

A Conner x Bree oneshot 

Edit by me [@readerghxst]

"𝗪𝗛𝗔𝗧 𝗗𝗢 𝗜 𝗗𝗢?" Conner chanted pacing around his room. His twin sister was sitting on his bed, folding the stray clothes on the mattress. 

“Why don't you start by actually telling me why you called me here?” she suggested, her nose scrunching at his shorts. “Do you not do laundry?” 

He grabbed the shorts in frustration and tossed them to the side. “My clothes are not why I called you here Alex. Okay, that is one of the reasons but still, not the main point,” he took a deep breath before continuing, ''I kinda asked Bree on a date...and she may or may not have said yes. But I have no idea what to do because I didn't think she was gonna agree.” 

Alex stared at him for a moment before grinning excitedly. “Conner! That's amazing! Why on Earth did you think she wouldn't agree?” 

He shrugged in response. Self-doubt would've been the appropriate answer but he wasn't willing to hear a “fairy-godmother-worthy” lecture on self-love and confidence from his lookalike. As much as he appreciated and loved his sister, it just wouldn't help him. 

“I would've asked mom or Bob but they’re both on shifts right now and won't be back till tonight which is already when the date is.”

Alex could tell he was in a state of pure panic. “Alright then, you know Bree better than I do, what does she like?” she asked, looking at him before adding, “And for the sake of your poor carpet, please sit down. You're gonna wear a hole into it.” 

He sighed and complied, plopping onto his chair near his desk. He picked up a photo of Bree he had on his desk. Not like a creepy stalker photo. Just a picture they had taken in Germany. His thumb caressed the picture as the memories flooded through his mind. 

“She loves thrillers. Stuff like murder with a mix of mystery too. She also adores Sherlock holmes. Oh and movies and shows of similar concepts. She's opening up to fantasy though. Her favourite colour is purple and she enjoys music…” he trailed off, lost in thought. 

Alex couldn't help but smile. She loved seeing him happy and even in love. She was also grateful he called her for help. Her constant tasks in the Fairy Kingdom kept her on her toes so she was glad to have a break and hand the leadership role to Emeralda for a while. She would never admit to her brother how stressful the tasks actually were but despite the silent words between them, and unbeknownst to Alex, Conner had a feeling she was under a lot of burden. 

He snapped out of his day dream to see his sister rearranging his nightside table. “HEY-”

“It's filthy Conner. I'm pretty sure this sandwich has been here since you moved here.”

“It's fine Alex. And like I said, didn’t bring you here to critique my room!” 

“Alright alright. Look, you said she enjoys mystery, so why not incorporate some of those elements. Like-”

“A scavenger hunt!” they said in unison with a grin.

The next few hours were filled with extensive planning and communication. With of course a little help from magic too since such an idea wasn't going to work out in just less than 24 hours. Soon it was time for, as Conner put it, Operation Purple Flower.

                                ────────⊹⊱❧❦☙⊰⊹────────

Bree checked her phone and saw one notification from Conner.

                                                       Conner

[Conner]

Are you ready to go?

[You]     

yes

but where are you?

am I supposed to go somewhere?

[Conner]

Yes and no

You are going somewhere 

But I won't be telling you where just yet.

You'll see ;)

[You]

what?

so like a scavenger hunt?

well this is certainly different, but exciting

[Conner]

I shall neither confirm nor deny 

Anyways 

Let's begin shall we?

[You]

we shall 

[Conner]

Endless thoughts in countless phrases. 

Ages young and old wander these mazes. 

Knowledge abundant, joy a plenty-

Many use it as an escape from tyranny.

[You]

oh riddles!

fun

hmmm

this has to be a library

right?

Seen 

Bree took this as a yes. She smiled at her phone. This was different and quirky. She was also admittedly very excited. In fact, she was feeling a rush of emotions. The last time she felt something so exhilarating was when she joined the Bailey twins for their Land of Stories adventures. 

She made her way to the public library, which was not too far away from her house. She waited at the entrance to see what would happen next, tugging at her hair. She couldn't find her beanie, positive her sisters had taken it. She didn't like how empty her head felt but dealt with it for the time being. After a good 2 minutes, she went inside the quiet library. According to the time, it would close in 10 minutes so she had to act quickly. 

“If I was Conner Bailey, where would I want to go?” she thought back on Conner and his adventures. All were revolving around...magic...fairy tales! She made her way to the children's section and took out a book of fairy tales. 

As she flipped through the book, she couldn't help but laugh at some of the illustrations and how different the artists had depicted the people she met around a year ago. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a paper fluttering down gently to the ground. She looked at the page which contained the letter and in bold letters was the title :

                                                     Cinderella

‘Of course. The fairy godmother was their grandmother and now it's Alex.’ she thought, picking up the paper that had fallen. Written on the front was undoubtedly Conner’s handwriting :

To : Bree Campbell, Don’t open until you reach the final destination. P.s. if                               you aren't Bree, then scram kid. This isn't for you.

Bree laughed at the message and took a picture to send, informing Conner of her finds. 

                                                          Conner 

[You sent an image]

[You]

I see you

I'm guessing this isn't the only thing 

what's next?

[Conner]

Your journey is far from done

Only now has the fun begun

Many come yet few enjoy

I can't say I was a golden boy

But I'm pleased to say

Even I managed to stay the whole way

[You]

so… you weren't perfect at this

but you still survived?

oh

oh

oh

school! 

Seen 

This was possibly the first time Bree was happy she was left on read. Since, the situation called for it. She grinned and made her way to the school building. She frowned slightly when she saw the door open. The school was closed. She knew the janitors locked up the school after their night shift so the only thing she could come up with was that Conner wanted her to go inside. 

She entered the building, feeling a small amount of fear. The hallways were dark and almost eerie. She walked around aimlessly. Where did she need to go? She thought back of her and Conner at school. That's when it hit her.

Ms. York's english class. The very first proper class she had with Conner in 7th grade. She grinned in triumph, making her way to the classroom.

Flipping a switch and turning on the light, she looked around for her next clue point. She spotted it a few moments later on her old desk. A small model airplane. She took a snap and sent the new image to her date.

                                                          Conner 

[You sent an image]

[You]

okay this one was kinda cute

I'm pretty sure there's more though 

what's next?

[Conner]

A mother’s love, her intentions dear,

Stories the world didn’t want to hear

The story of a fated slipper of glass

At least the warmth in your stomach will last

[You]

these are getting challenging 

stories and slipper of glass makes me think fairy tale

but the only tale that has a prominent slipper made of glass is…

Cinderella!

of course

the Storybook Grill

you told me her step-mother owned the place!

Seen

She turned the lights back off and quietly made her way out of the school building, closing the large front door behind her before she left. Now she made her way to one of her favourite restaurants. 

Unlike the last two places she had just been to, Storybook Grill was bustling with life. She went inside and was instantly hit with the sounds and smells of the night. She could see Rosemary happily moving from table to table and her sister Petunia doing the same with visibly less enthusiasm. Their mother, Lady Iris, was standing by a table. The same table, Bree noted that she sat at the first time she came to the restaurant. 

She saw Iris’s eyes widen in glee as she gestured for Bree to come to her. Once she made her way there, Iris instructed her to sit down and that should be right back.

She came back a few moments later with a covered plate. Once she placed it on Bree’s table, she left her with the dish. Bree wasn't sure if she was supposed to open it and decided to ask Conner. 

                                                          Conner 

[You]

at the diner

Iris gave me a dish 

am I supposed to have dinner without you?

[Conner]

Just open the lid ;)

Seen 

She curiously took the lid covering the dish. On the silver platter, was a flower. A flower she knew very well. Her mother would enthusiastically tell her daughters of different flora due to her love of botany. Accompanying the flower was a note that was written as followed :

You're doing quite well Bree. Don't worry, you've only got one more place to go after this place.

She took what would be her final clue photo and sent it to Conner.

                                                          Conner 

[You sent an image]

[You]

purple orchids are my favorite

what's the final clue partner? 

[Conner]

Heal your weary bones and heart

Where new life is given, a wondrous start

For all of us, together, drifted past this time

memories of fondness woven into this rhyme

[You]

this might be the easiest one yet

the hospital 

I’m assuming it's Saint Andrew’s one?

Seen 

Getting up from the diner, she thanked Iris for the help and made the walk to the Children’s hospital. Playing by Conner’s rules, she went straight away to the ward where they had kept Conner’s fictional characters from his short stories. 

However she had to admit feeling quite confused when she opened the door. She was expecting to see Conner however she was met with yet another note. She saw the ‘open now’ at the front of the paper and didn’t waste any time opening it. 

You’re probably confused as to where I am. Well let’s just say I told a little white lie. Just the smallest one. I'm gonna need you to walk outside to the entrance lobby, take 23 steps in front, turn right, take 38 steps straight and well, fate will lead you from there :) ~ Conner 

Bree was baffled but shrugged. Following the instructions led her to the entrance of the Willow Crest Public Park. On the ground was something Bree spent hours trying to find, her purple beanie. 

“Wait what-” she bent down, attempting to grab her headwear. That’s when the strangest thing that evening happened. Her beanie moved by itself. She tilted her head in confusion but decided to follow it.

She ended up in a place she never remembered seeing. Her beanie made a turn and there was a flash of light. Bree covered her eyes for a second before going to the source of light. She came across a secluded clearing. Standing right in the middle was the teenager who started the whole goose chase.

Conner Johnathan Bailey 

Who she also noted, was holding her beanie. 

“I see you got my note.” he said with a cheeky grin. 

“Which one? I seem to remember three.” she joked, holding her hand out. He understood and passed her the beanie which she put on her head immediately.

“Much better.” she muttered.

“So,” he said, his fingers fidgeting, “what do you think?” 

He gestured around him and Bree looked around for the first time. There were fairy lights stringed across the hedges. The ground was scattered with flower petals and right in the middle was the dining table. Elegant yet magical. The centre piece was a simple glass vase and a minimalistic candle plus its holder. 

“It's amazing Conner! How on earth did you manage to pull this off?” she asked, turning to face him. He grinned, clearly proud of his accomplishment.

“It was not easy,” he admitted. “I had a ton of help. Alex helped me make the clues, and this place. Your sisters helped get your beanie and convince the janitor to hand them the keys and the library, hospital and school had the objects. I asked Iris to help out with everything in the diner and your mom told me  your favorite flower. Oh and your beanie moving was Alex and her wand. She just disappeared.”

Bree was in awe of how it all worked out. She gave Conner a hug. “This is the most fun I've had in a long while. Sure I was grounded for such a long time too, but seriously, this is incredible.” 

He beamed and led her to the table. He assisted her to her seat before sitting down himself. “The flower goes in the vase by the way.” she smiled and placed it in. 

“Now before we begin, I do believe you have a letter to read?”

She nodded, taking out the first destination’s prop. Opening it, she read out the letter in her hand.

Dear Breanne Campbell,

Yay! If you're reading this, it means you've reached the end of the little scavenger hunt. It also means you're sitting with future me so hello me! 

Anyways, I'm sure you've already noticed, I mean, you are Bree afterall. All the places you've been to have had some kind of significance. The library for the Land of Stories. The Cinderella story for Alex and Grandma. The school since we went to the same school. Of course, Ms. York’s english class being the first proper class together. The airplane to signify our first real adventure to Germany. It could also mean our trip to New York! The diner because...well we both know the owner is Ella’s step-mom. The flower being your favourite flower and color. The hospital for our time with my short-story characters. Oh and meeting Hero. the park, the place you're in right now, being the same place we battled with witches and Alex under a crazy curse. 

Ah the memories. Hopefully, there'll be some new ones. Now I don't mean to drag you into another life or death adventure, but I would like to spend more time with you. Only if it's okay with you and you aren't grounded of course. I've already asked your parents :)

If anyone was to ever ask me what would describe Bree Campbell, I would say a flower. Not because you are delicate or fragile. Because you are a survivor. You take on any challenge and manage to look fabulous doing it. Not to mention how calm you are in any situation. You can do anything, face any battle, any hardship and stay grounded. Just like a flower. 

So thank you Bree, for sticking with me through all these near insane adventures.  For being around through my weirdest thoughts and plans. Most of all, for accepting me and this crazy two-life fiasco. 

Thank you, for being the most amazing, unique purple flower and girlfriend a guy could ask for.

Conner Bailey

Bree was not someone who cries but she could feel tears in her eyes. She smiled at Conner and wiped her tears, so many emotions racing through her, all of which were good ones. 

“Conner, this is so touching. And sweet! Thank you.” she finally managed to say, her voice breaking ever so slightly. 

He seemed quite pleased with himself and bent down. “Now, as a thanks and sorry for dragging you around the neighbourhood, a toast to your heritage.” he announced, coming back up with two plates of food. Specifically that of the German cuisine. 

He poured them two glasses of lemonade and held his glass up. She mimicked his action as he said, “A toast to first dates.”

“To first dates.”

As the glasses clinked, a photo was taken from a certain hiding spot in the trees. Sitting at the top, out of the vision of the two lovebirds, was Alex Bailey. The half-fairy smiled to herself and went down, making her way back home to give them privacy for the rest of the date as she looked at the photo of her twin brother and close friend.

“Operation Purple Flower...was a success.”

                              ────────⊹⊱❧❦☙⊰⊹ ────────

exactly like Conner said, writing this fic was not easy. I wrote this one shot a long time ago, all the way back in August of 2021. And i’m not someone who writes fan fiction often, it’s just not my strong suit. You’ll find that Bree is not exactly very canon…actually none of them truly are canon and I apologise if that annoys anyone. Like i said, not my strong suit.

Anyways, I wanna just add, major credit and thanks to @introvertedwraith for helping with the riddles that Conner prepared. I could not have done it without her saving my ass lol. Also, the texting format…i swear it looks better on wattpad because it is extremely difficult to put it in tumblr lol.

if you would like the see how the fic is supposed to look like in terms of aesthetics/style of stuff like the texting, you can check it out on my wattpad which is linked….somewhere on my profile lol. Anyways, thanks for reading! And here’s to hoping i post more of my writing in the future!

[bookwyrminspiration]

“ how are you? and be real with me, now; i can tell when you’re not being honest with me. you’ve got a tell. “

“ hey now, never apologize for feeling emotions, okay? humans are meant to feel all this stuff, no matter how good or bad the feelings are. besides; shoulders are built to be cried on! “

With Sophie blaming herself for Kenric's death because if the black swan hadn't had created her then Oralie and Kenric would've stepped down together, and Oralie or Bronte telling her it wasn't her fault?

!!! A truly excellent prompt that I had a lot of fun exploring! Also a wonderful stepping stone into the councillors that I appreciate, so please enjoy!

we made our choices <- ao3 link

warnings: allusions to death, grief, crying, mention of eyelash tugging (no eyelashes pulled)

word count: 3.6k

Sophie paced across the pretty pink floral carpets, her feet wearing an eyesore of a path into the petals, biting her fingers to keep from pulling her lashes. She’d left a hair tie on her wrist, and now snapped it against her skin over and over again, giving herself something to do.

Oralie sat on the couch across the room, watching, waiting, but Sophie couldn’t sit, not now. Her mind buzzed with nervous energy, the need to do something, to prove that being the moonlark was worth it. What was the point of her if she didn’t fix anything?

“Sophie, are you going to explain--” her delicate voice rang out.

“Bronte’s not here yet. I’m waiting,” she interrupted, resisting the urge to bang her head against the walls and scream. What on earth was taking him so long? Couldn’t he take a break from running the world for a few moments when she asked?

Oralie sighed, settling herself in to wait as well, politely not commenting on how Sophie was very near to wearing a hole through her floors.

Round after round she paced, muscles growing tenser with each passing minute Bronte didn’t arrive. Was it so hard to get both her council contact points in the same room?

Finally, after a veritable eternity, a knock sounded against the door, freezing her in her tracks.

Fluid, Oralie rose from her position, the gauze of her baby pink lounging dress trailing after her as she crossed the room, passing through an open doorway to get to the front entrance of her home. She heard the door swing open, heard a second pair of shoes clacking against the floor, the ominous feeling of Bronte seeping into the air around him, and Sophie swore it darkened the whole building as their footsteps grew near.

“She hasn’t told me anything,” Oralie was saying as they reentered, Bronte’s shoes going quiet on the carpet, his mouth curling into a grimace at the overwhelming pink.

Sophie watched Oralie retake her seat on that couch, Bronte choosing a nearby padded chair, resigning himself to the color scheme. Should she sit, too? Her fingers pulled at the hair tie, needing an outlet. No, if she sat down, she’d have nowhere for her energy to go, and that would make it more difficult to get through this. And she had to get through this.

“Are you going to start this meeting or not? You’re the one who called it,” Bronte said after a moment, crossing his arms over his chest, a faint frown pulling at his lips, red marks visible where his circlet rested on his forehead.

She started. Where to start? “Right. Yes. You need to get rid of the match.”

Well. Maybe she shouldn’t have started there.

“What?” Oralie asked, head tilting to the side.

She held up both her hands, resuming her pacing. “Listen. It doesn’t work. It’s an awful system and all it does is hurt people--so many people. All these lives are--are ruined by this…” she trailed off looking for the words. “This stupid rule about who can be with who from millenia ago. It’s gotta be entirely out of date and there has to be a better way to do it--and you’re councillors, so you can change it. You can fix it.”

You can keep anyone else from being hurt by it, she didn’t say, eyes lingering on Oralie.

Bronte shook his head. “It’s not that simple. We’re two voices out of twelve. Is this because you’re unmatchable? I thought you were through with this and focusing on more prudent responsibilities.”

Sophie put her fingers to her temples. “This isn’t about me! I don’t--I don’t care that I’m unmatchable.” That…was mostly true. She didn’t want to think about it further. “But even if I don’t care, there are people that do and people who are getting screwed over by these matches. Everything your world has to do with dating and relationships is so…so…unfair,” she finished, unable to find a better word.

Oralie leaned forward, but her eyes were elsewhere, looking at a memory only she could see. “I’m not saying you’re wrong, Sophie. I know that our world--it’s your world too, remember--has been far from fair. That is why we’re making changes and adapting. But I think, even as right as you may be, that reworking the match is going to take a lot more time and work than you think. Even if Bronte and I could, just the two of us, completely change the system, what would come next? What system would we have? How would people react? Things are rarely as simple as we want them to be.”

Sophie screwed up her face, only now realizing she’d paused her pacing again. Warmth bloomed in her face as they pointed out all the flaws in her demands she’d been trying so hard to ignore as she’d rushed to Oralie’s castle in Eternalia and demanded a meeting.

“So, what? Just because it’s hard you think we shouldn’t try? That we should give up before we’ve even started and let more and more people get fucked over by your system?” This was about the people. Everyone. This was about making the Lost Cities better. It wasn’t because of anything else. It wasn’t because that morning she’d heard--

“Neither of us said that,” Bronte said, looking way too calm for how her insides boiled.

Oralie had a crease between her brows as she leaned forward, fingers pressing together like she itched to reach out and run them along Sophie’s palm, read her like an open book. “What brought this on? You’ve never spoken to us so openly about the match before. Did something happen?”

“Nothing happened.”

“You’re lying. How are you? And be real with me, now; I can tell when you’re not being honest with me. You’ve got a tell.”

Sophie crossed her arms, mirroring Bronte, heart racing. “I don’t have a tell. I’m fine. I already told you this isn’t about me--”

“Maybe not,” Bronte conceded. “But you’re clearly worked up. We can’t work with you if you’re too emotional to think clearly.”

“I am thinking clearly. It’s clear that your system is bullshit!” Why weren’t they listening? Out of all the people on the council, Bronte and Oralie had been the two who were most receptive to her, who were most willing to listen--even if they annoyed her to no ends most of the time. Even if she had to fight back a lot. Why were they being so difficult now?

Oralie pointed at the ground. “You’ve worn a hole through my carpet. That’s not what someone thinking clearly would do.”

Sophie stared where she pointed, gritting her teeth at the groove she’d made, tempted to tear through it even more if it would get her point across.

Their dating system was bad. Their dating system relied on the match. That meant the match was bad. You should get rid of bad things. They should get rid of the match.

No matter that it didn’t really fix what was bugging her, not that it would change the rules for the councillors, not that it would do anything for Kenric--

“Sophie?” Oralie asked as she pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes, cursing herself for the way they burned. She wasn’t supposed to cry.

Physically, she heard Bronte sigh, but mentally she was holding tight to her sanity, as if pressing hard enough against her eyes would force all the emotions back inside and she wouldn’t have to deal with them. She’d never have to think about them again if they’d just listen to her.

“Sophie? What’s going on? Are you alright?” Oralie’s stupid, perfect, angelic voice was much closer now, and she flinched as her hand came to rest on her shoulder, offering a squeeze that Sophie started to pull away from.

Her voice refused to work, words sticking and catching in her throat, clogging her vocal cords.

“This isn’t about the match system, is it,” Bronte asked, though it sounded more like a statement.

Her lips started to tremble, so she bit it, clamping down hard to keep it from moving. This was just a minor setback. If she could take a few seconds, a few breaths, just recollect her thoughts, then she could continue. It would be fine. Everything would be okay and she could fix it. She could fix everything. Wasn’t that what she was supposed to do?

Instead, a sob broke through her lips.

She clapped a hand over her mouth, trying to turn away, but it was too late. Her breathing stuttered, lungs trying to get enough air through as her shoulders shook.

“Sophie.” Oralie grabbed her shoulder again, forcing her to stop as she tried to get away. “Please talk to us. We can’t help you if you’re…guilt?” she trailed off, fingers tightening where they brushed exposed skin, gentle against her shoulder.

Sophie refused to meet her eye.

“Guilt is a very dangerous emotion, Sophie. What on earth do you have to be guilty about?”

Tears raced down her cheeks as she rubbed at her face, lips trembling again as she pressed them together. “I’m--I’m not--”

“Whatever facade you had up is far from convincing at this point. Don’t try to lie to us again,” Bronte cut her off. He stood next to Oralie; when had he moved? She hadn’t noticed him getting closer.

She took a few deep breaths, trying to force her brain to calm itself down. “Your system…it’s so unfair. If it--if it was different…” she stopped with eyes wide, wiping at her face again, not caring about Oralie’s hand on her shoulder, reading her emotions.

“What? What would happen if it was different?”

“Kenric.”

Oralie’s face went white, her own lips pressing together as her free hand curled around herself.

“If there weren’t all these dumb rules trying to control people’s lives, then Kenric wouldn’t’ve--could’ve--” she exhaled a sharp breath, cursing everything in the world as she tried to dance around her point, tried to keep it close to her chest so she didn’t have to talk about it.

Oralie swallowed. “Kenric…we both made our choices, Sophie. And even if I wish things didn’t happen the way they did…we made our choices.”

“You made them because of me!” she exploded, splaying her arms wide, chest heaving, tears falling freely.

Bronte looked between them, confused.

“Wait, no--” she pressed her hands back over her mouth as if she could take the words back, backing away, Oralie’s hand falling from her shoulder, lingering in the air still reaching.

Oralie had closed her eyes, brows pinching together.

“I believe there is something going on here you have failed to make me aware of,” Bronte said, looking between the two of them with his arms crossed.

She shook her head. She may not have forgiven Oralie, but if she was removed from the council, if one of her biggest supporters was taken away and the world found out, if they had to go through another appointment it would create disruption, upheaval. The Neverseen could use that, and she couldn’t give them that opportunity. She’d never forgive herself if she did.

Trying to wave it away she rushed, “No, forget it, you’re right the system is really hard to fix and I’m being impatient and--”

“You don’t need to cover for me, Sophie.” Oralie offered a small smile. Tears had welled in her own eyes, and she tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ears.

Bronte’s eyebrows had raised, but he stayed silent, mouth curving into a frown as he waited.

“It’s not your fault that I stayed, or that Kenric stayed. Don’t put that on yourself. Whether you existed or not…my answer would’ve been the same. I wanted to help our world. I still do. And Kenric wanted the same. That’s why we chose to keep serving, not because of you. Kenric didn’t even know about you until we met you on your first day here.”

Bronte interrupted. “We all learned about her then, we all received the same report from Alden. Are you implying that you knew about her before then?”

“If you hadn’t gotten involved with me, then you and Kenric could’ve stepped down. Free of the responsibility. He would’ve had the life he wanted, safe. He wouldn’t have been there when Fintan…” The words were too hard to say, barely more than a whisper, so she let her eyes water as she wrapped her arms around herself.

“If you are a responsibility, then it is one I gladly bear; I don’t regret that part of my choice, Sophie.”

Bronte huffed a breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Must I drag this information from you piece by piece? What are you talking about?”

Oralie gave him a rueful smile. “Maybe you’re always so grumpy because you’re so dense.” She straightened, running her hands along the folds of her gown to smooth them out. “I will have to own up to it eventually, though I do hope you understand why it must remain secret--and not for my own sake. I knew the consequences when Mr. Forkle reached out to me, a little over sixteen years ago now, hoping to create something new.”

Bronte’s eyes went wide, mouth falling open in the most expressive contortions of shock she’d ever seen on him. “You.”

Oralie nodded, and Bronte took a step back, gaze switching rapid fire between their faces, sizing them up and comparing the two. Sophie could imagine what he was seeing, the same blonde hair, though Sophie’s never fell in ringlets. The same pale skin, the same frame, maybe even similar bone structure and facial features she’d tried so hard to ignore since she’d found out.

“When the council finds out--”

“Which they won’t,” Oralie asserted, voice steady even as she wiped away further tears, tears Sophie had caused. “I can’t keep this secret forever, but I can keep it for now. You know what would happen if the world found out.”

Bronte swore under his breath, a hand rubbing against his forehead, trying to ease the marks his circlet left on his brow. Shockingly, he let that part of the conversation drop there, eyes finding Sophie again.

“You blame yourself,” he said simply.

Her eyes began watering again, heat rushing through her face as she hugged herself tighter, breath catching. “Seems pretty obvious to me. How could you not?”

Oralie shook her head, stepping forward like she’d reach out and touch her. “No, no, no. Sophie. It’s not you. I promise you that. I know you don’t trust me anymore, but it was not your fault. If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s mine; he stayed because I stayed.”

“Did either of you kill Kenric?” Bronte asked bluntly. “Because it was Fintan at fault, not either of you.”

Sophie made a face. “But--”

“No buts.” He held out a hand firmly, stopping her. “Do not allow yourself to go down that path. Kenric chose to continue serving on his own. Neither of you should feel guilty about that, especially with how dangerous that emotion is. Is that why you were talking about the match? Trying to ease your own guilt.”

Reluctantly, she nodded. “It was the closest I could get without actually…talking about it.” It wasn’t like she wasn’t concerned about the match. Her points had been exactly what she thought, and they did need to fix the system so it stopped screwing people over.

But it wasn’t what had really been on her mind.

Kenric had died because he’d stayed on the council, and he’d stayed on the council because he couldn’t be with Oralie any other way. She was determined to stay on. Because one day her world would be accommodating an abnormality and she wanted the power to protect her.

And even if she’d stepped down, there would’ve been a secret in their way.

A secret daughter. A moonlark.

How had she repaid him? By missing all the warning signs in Fintan’s head as she healed him, letting him be consumed when he could’ve stepped down decades ago alongside Oralie. They wouldn’t have had to worry about her at all, getting involved in the messes she kept making and trying to fix.

That’s what she was supposed to do, right? Fix things?

Then why was she so bad at it?

“Sophie? I need to know that you understand none of this has to do with you. None of it’s your fault. Please.” Oralie did reach for her then, grabbing her hand and squeezing tight, shivering as the chaotic mess of her emotions passed through her body.

Sophie tugged at an eyelash, hating how itchy they got when she cried. “I understand.”

Bronte looked at Oralie and Oralie frowned. “You don’t believe me, though.”

She gave a helpless shrug.

“Kenric wouldn’t want you blaming yourself,” Bronte told her, the gentlest she’d heard him all evening. “I may not have been…the most supportive, when he was around, but I do know that much. He’d hate to see you break over this.”

Her voice wobbled. “Why do you have to be so sappy, this isn’t fair, you’re supposed to be the mean one.”

Oralie let out a slight laugh, shoulder relaxing at whatever she felt, still holding on to her hand. “Don’t worry. His good mood won’t last long.”

“I’m not--forget it. Will you be alright, Sophie? You’re not going to let this break you?”

She wiped away a few remaining tears, though she knew there’d be more later. “I won’t let it break me, for Kenric. It’s not…it’s not my fault.”

“Good.”

Taking another breath, she repeated, “It’s not my fault.”

Oralie smiled. “Right. Don’t forget that. And if it ever starts to creep up on you again, let us know. Or at least me, I can’t speak for Bronte. But I will always make time when you need me, Sophie. I did today, and I’d do it again.”

“So did it,” Bronte added. “I was in the middle of a rather important meeting when you sent your demanding hails.”

Sophie cringed, pulled her hair around her face to hide herself. She’d really just marched in here demanding the two of them fix the entire match system themselves despite knowing that wasn’t how anything worked and being incredibly strung out after she’d overheard a…less than kind comment at Foxfire that morning.

“Sorry.”

Oralie tilted her head. “For what?”

She gestured at everything, the whole world, the path worn through the carpet, her blotchy and tear-stained face. “Interrupting. Throwing a fit. I know…I know the match change isn’t fair to put entirely on you. I just wish it was easier.”

“Hey now, never apologize for feeling emotions, okay? Humans are meant to feel all this stuff, no matter how good or bad the feelings are. Besides; shoulders are built to be cried on!” Oralie’s eyes no longer watered, only a bit of redness revealing the tears they’d shared.

Bronte rolled his eyes at Oralie’s chipper optimism.

Sophie frowned. “You--we’re not human. And I haven’t actually cried on your shoulder.”

“Maybe not physically, but you let us comfort you in a moment of distress. And even if we aren’t human, I know you forget that.”

She didn’t have anything smart to say back to that, so she went quiet, trying not to pull out her eyelashes. She’d been good about that recently, and even as itchy as crying made them, she didn’t want to use that as an excuse to give in.

“You’re so determined…Kenric loved that about you,” Oralie said faintly, finally letting go of her hand.

“That,” Bronte said, “is something we can both agree on.”

Sophie felt her face warm, unsure whether to scowl at their antics or to start crying again at the thought of Kenric, of him loving something about her. Even after all the ways she’d failed him.

She shoved the thought away. It wouldn’t do her any good to dwell and blame herself, and Kenric would hate that. Instead, she could use all the complicated, unidentifiable feelings that bubbled up inside her at the mention of him to push herself forward.

Taking a deep breath, she ran her fingers through her hair, getting it out of her face, no longer hiding behind it.

Grabbing that hair tie off her wrist, she pulled it back, securing it as that determination Kenric loved solidified into something, something buzzing and eager and oh so ready to get to work.

“Okay. Forget all that. We can’t undo what’s already happened, but that doesn’t mean just because it’s difficult to change we shouldn’t try.”

She could’ve sworn Bronte was smiling as she marched forward, claiming one of the free chairs, both councillors trailing behind her as they took up their original seats, following her lead.

“Let me try this again.” Her voice held steady, eyes dry as she sat up straight.

Bronte waved his arm to indicate she had the floor. “Alright, Sophie. You’ve called us here. Are you going to start this meeting or not?”

Sophie met both their eyes, unflinching, steady. “Yes, I am. We’ve got a lot of work to do, after all. The match system isn’t going to rework itself overnight.”

Oralie tucked her hair behind her ear, leaning forward, lips curving into a smile. “No, I suppose it won’t. It’s a good thing we have you, then, isn’t it.”

It was a very good thing they had her, because she was going to shake this system up, break it down to its very core. No one else could do that like her, after all.

It’s why she was there.

To make things better.

And she wasn’t going to let anything tell her no or hold her back.

Kenric would love that.

[foreveralwaysanauthor]

Where You Should Be

December 1, 2022

Prompt - Reunion

Notes - I have a bunch of prompts for this month in my notes, but I might not get the chance to do all of them, sadly. However, I’ll be doing as many as I can before Christmas, so hopefully, this will be a great month full of prompts! Also, I know I mention everyone being a year older in this, however, it is only for this season and I'll hardly ever bring it up in other prompts. Their normal ages have not changed.

No amount of Jingle Bell Rock could stop Royce’s pacing as he wandered back and forth in the living room of the Murphy house. Bentley had insisted on putting their well-loved, more than slightly scratched, Christmas record early in the morning, but its blaring lyrics and cheerful music did nothing to calm the curly-haired brunette. Miles had tried his best to keep the seventeen-year-old busy, but Royce had packed his backpack of essentials and small presents three days prior, his room was cleaned, and the offer of joining Miles in picking Carrie up from her studio’s Christmas party was answered with a roll of Royce’s eyes and a very quick, “I’ll pass.”

Bentley, who had been tossing the last of his things into his backpack, slammed his bedroom door shut as he left it, singing along to the lyrics of the Christmas song as he made his way into the living room and tossed his bag by the front door. Collapsing onto the couch, Bentley chuckled as he watched his older brother pace back and forth, subconsciously picking at his nails as he went. “Are you trying to wear a hole into the rug?” Bentley asked.

Royce froze, glancing down at the carpet before sending his brother a sharp glare. “Not funny.”

“It was to me,” Bentley claimed with a grin. He watched his brother anxiously begin tearing at his fingernails for a moment before sighing, “Are you still worked up about the whole Vivien thing? I told you, man, you have nothing to worry about.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” Royce sighed, “You’re not the one in a relationship with her.”

“I certainly hope not,” Bentley agreed, a look of disgust evident on his face. Vivien had been one of his best friends for over a year at that point and never had the thought of having any kind of romantic relationship with her crossed his mind. If anything, she was the sister he never had. Royce ran a hand through his hair, tugging on curls as he went and Bentley sighed, “You’re not asking her to marry you.”

Royce was quick to shake his head. “Of course not. I don’t have to worry about that for a few years.”

“Heaven help us when that time comes around,” Bentley mumbled, knowing just how worked up his brother would be when the time came. “Look, you’re just giving her a bracelet, not an engagement ring. It’s not that serious.”

Royce gave his younger brother an incredulous look. “‘Not that serious’? Bentley, I’m asking her if she wants to go steady with me and that’s practically a step behind asking her to marry me. Viv could still say that she’s not ready for something like that or that she doesn’t like me like that.”

Bentley rolled his eyes. “She wouldn’t do that to you. You know she loves you.”

“And I love her.” Dropping onto the ottoman with a sigh, Royce ran a hand through his hair before turning to Bentley with a tentative look and confessing, “You know, we’ve never actually told each other ‘I love you’ yet.”

Bentley’s confused look only made Royce feel worse. “Really?” the youngest Murphy brother asked. “You two have been together for almost a year, I thought you would’ve done that by now.”

Royce shrugged, “I mean, we’ve shown it in other ways. I give her little gifts or things that make me think of her and she likes to sit together and read or show me things she likes. I just think it’s something that’s understood between us.”

“You’ve just never said it?”

“Yeah.”

“I guess I can see why you’re nervous,” Bentley said, “but I still don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

“What do you mean?” Royce questioned.

Bentley pushed himself forward, leaning his elbows on his knees and smiling at his brother. “You remember how I knew you and Viv liked each other before both of you knew and you were freaking out over how to tell her?” Royce thought for a moment before nodding slowly. “It’s sort of like that. You two are idiots, but you’re idiots in love with each other. I don’t think you need to work yourself into a panic attack over something that’s only going to work out in the end.”

The room was silent as Royce thought hard about his brother’s words. It made sense that someone outside of the relationship would have a different perspective. Bentley knew both of them personally and saw them through both good and bad moments, the idea of him seeing things going smoothly wasn’t too farfetched. Besides, Bentley had a good intuition and seemed to have some sense of premonition from time to time, Royce would have to be a fool to ignore his brother’s words.

“Maybe you’re right,” Royce allowed, giving his brother a small smile.

“Of course, I’m right,” Bentley scoffed as he reached over and shoved Royce, earning him a laugh from his brother. The fifteen-year-old pushed himself to his feet with a sigh, patting his brother’s shoulder as he stepped around the ottoman. “Come on, let’s get our stuff together and wait outside for Miles and Carrie to show up. You need fresh air and I want to make sure my bike is in the garage before we leave.”

Royce chuckled as he rose off the ottoman and followed his brother toward the door, turning off the record player as he went. He picked up his bag from next to the door and locked the front door they had finally managed to replace over the summer. The pale blue painted wood never quite sat right in the door jamb, so it took a bit of tugging on the doorknob to slide the deadbolt into place, but it was certainly an upgrade from the crumbling red paint that would latch onto your skin anytime you opened or closed the door before. The house was finally starting to feel like home now that they had the money to peel away the old wallpapers and fix up little things here and there.

As Bentley pulled his bicycle into the garage, Royce sat on the walkway with their belongings and opened his backpack, digging toward the bottom of the fairly new orange and black bag that Mick’s parents had gotten him for the new school year. He had missed Mack and Brady, but the school year had taken up a lot of his time in the last year and their trips to California and New Hampshire had been far less frequent. However, he was extremely grateful that they were going to be able to visit for a whole month again. He had missed having them around, but Mick had told them the feeling was mutual. Royce’s train of thought stalled as his fingers brushed a long, thin, velvet box he had wedged between his hoodie and the books he wanted to bring. 

Pulling the box almost out of his bag, Royce examined the bracelet inside with scrutiny. He had done a ton of research trying to figure out what Vivien would like and he finally felt as though he had picked out something perfect. Her budding interest in crystals and their meanings helped him greatly and he was able to get Mick to help him find the crystals he wanted to use. The amethyst and citrine stones were an odd coupling, but Royce felt it was far more meaningful than any charm bracelet could ever be. Mick and her parents had offered to help pay for it, but Royce’s stubbornness had won out and he was able to pull enough money together from the shifts he’d picked up at Big Momma’s and the few hours he’d spent tutoring people at school.

The simple bracelet wasn’t much, but Vivien wasn’t much for anything extravagant. As Miles drove his beat-up pickup into the driveway, Royce closed the box, shoved it into his backpack, and zipped the bag shut, not wanting either of the vehicle’s occupants to know about his plan. He wanted to surprise everyone on Christmas, his and Vivien’s anniversary. Royce stood from the ground and Bentley retrieved his bag as Miles parked the truck next to his motorcycle and helped Carrie get her bags out of the back seat. The walk to Mick and Butchy’s house never took long, but to Royce, it felt like it went on forever. It always did when they were going between worlds - the excitement, anticipation, and nervousness accumulated with every step they took.

Mick and Butchy’s garage was unusually quiet as the group of four stepped inside. The only person present was Mick and she was listening to something with her headphones on, her head bopping along to music the rest of them couldn’t hear as she sketched something in her notebook. Miles tried calling out to the brunette, but got no response, so he set Carrie’s bags inside the trusty yellow machine they had built so long ago and allowed the boys to follow suit before sneaking up behind the girl at her work desk and quickly wiggling his fingers up her spine.

Mick let out a high-pitched shriek as she whirled around, her old, black headphones landing around her neck as she realized who it was that scared her. “Miles, you ass,” she huffed, deftly closing her notebook and tucking it under her arm as she stood from her desk.

“You love me,” Miles replied with a smirk as he stepped back toward the machine.

“Sometimes, I wonder why,” she fired back with a grin. After a long, groaning stretch to release the tension in her muscles from sitting in the same spot for so long, Mick smiled and asked, “You guys ready to go?”

“Where’s Butchy and Lela?” Bentley asked. “Aren’t they coming?”

Mick chuckled as she hit the button to lower the garage door, “They’re already back at my parents’ place. My dad needed Butchy to help him fix something in the van before we could head to the airport.”

The simultaneous nod of understanding that the three Murphy brothers shared didn’t go unnoticed by the two women, but they managed to keep their laughter contained as they stepped into the machine. Interdimensional travel didn’t last long, surprisingly, and it didn’t take long for them to be opening the latch and stepping into Brady’s workshop shed. Over time, the shed had become a bit of a catch-all; gardening tools and lawn care equipment were shoved to the side, boxes of decorations had been arranged in some form of organized chaos on high shelves, and Brady’s tools, work benches, and various other equipment were spread through the room in a manner only he could comprehend.

Ocean air and squawking seagulls greeted the group as they emerged from the shed. San Clemente, California was cooler than normal at only 58 degrees, but everyone knew they wouldn’t be complaining about the chill in the air for too long. After all, New Hampshire’s tiny town of Sanbornton would be much colder and far snowier than any Southern California city. With bags in hand, the group made their way into Mick’s family home, greeting the two women who sat on the couch, chatting.

Mack was on her feet in a matter of seconds, placing her cup of hot chocolate on the coffee table and rounding the couch so she could wrap every person in a hug. Mick stepped aside as her Mom wrapped her arms around Royce and Bentley’s shoulders, pulled them to her, and swayed them side to side. Royce was already taller than the woman, resting his head over her shoulder with a smile, but Bentley discovered that he was just barely the same height as the woman who acted like a second mother to them. Royce closed his eyes as Mack squeezed him close, whispering to the woman, “We missed you, Aunt Mack.”

Mack slowly pulled away from the teenagers, cupping one of their cheeks in each of her hands as she told them, “Your Uncle Brady and I have missed you too. We’ll have plenty of time to catch up on lost time.”

Before either of the boys could say anything in return, a voice from the front entryway loudly asked, “Do I hear my troublemakers?”

Bentley turned to Royce and the pair shared a smile before running around Mack and calling back, “Uncle Brady!”

With a chuckle and a fond smile in the direction the boys had left in, Mack shook her head and turned to Miles and Carrie. “I had a feeling that would happen.”

Miles grinned as he was brought into the woman’s arms. “Good to see you again, Mack.”

“It’s good to see you too, Miles,” Mack said before pulling away from the young man and reaching for his girlfriend.

Carrie, who had been standing quietly to the side since their arrival, wasn’t as surprised to receive a hug from the woman as she had been the first time they had met. The first time Carrie had been to their home, she’d kept her distance in an effort to not get in the way of the family, but found herself brought into any activity Miles participated in. That day, she was glued to Miles’ side the entire day and barely said anything until the rest of the girls dragged her off to watch a broadway show, but it was evident by how quickly she accepted the older woman’s embrace that she had certainly grown more comfortable around Miles’ extended family.

“I’m so glad Miles convinced you to join us for the month, Carrie,” Mack told the blonde.

Carrie’s surprise was barely concealed as she asked, “You are?”

Mack nodded as she pulled back, rubbing the girl’s arms reassuringly. “Of course. However, I bet there’s someone else who will be even more excited to see you.”

The curly-haired blonde could only think of one person who wasn’t present who would want to see her and it certainly wasn’t Butchy. Although her rocky relationship with Butchy had begun to mend over time, it definitely wasn’t to the point where he’d be glad to see her. The person on her mind, though, was a specific brunette with circle-framed glasses and a penchant for sneaking into abandoned buildings. She and Vivien had bonded quickly, sharing a love of music, theatre, vintage fashion, and movies. The pair had grown close quicker than anyone had anticipated they would, but Carrie certainly wasn’t complaining since she knew that, with Vivien around, there was at least one person in Miles’ life that wanted her around and enjoyed her company. 

“Does she know I’m going with you?” Carrie asked as Miles wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

Mack chuckled and shook her head, “She doesn’t even know that we’re coming.”

Carrie’s grin broadened into a smile as she tried to imagine the reaction they’d get from the seventeen-year-old. Chances were, after realizing there were people other than her boyfriend present, the young brunette would tackle each of them with the force of a professional football star and, oddly enough, Carrie would be fine with it if she did. She hadn’t heard from the brunette since her last visit with Mick’s family when they chatted on the phone, but their conversation was short-lived since Royce wanted to talk to his girlfriend about some of the things going on at his new school. For now, Carrie could only imagine the teenager’s surprise at their arrival.

Their stay at Mack and Brady’s house didn’t last long as they needed to get to the airport for their flight, but once the chaos began, it didn’t show any signs of stopping. Bags were thrown into the storage box on top of the roof rack and, after everyone else had filled the seats, Bentley made himself comfortable in the trunk with some of the blankets they’d left there the last time they’d gone on a road trip. Was it legal? No, but it would work for the quick drive to the airport as long as he kept his head away from the back window. 

In no time at all, they pulled into the small airport where Mack and Brady’s friend worked and started loading themselves into the private plane’s seats. As the plane began moving, Royce felt glad that he had gotten used to flying over the last year they’d been spending time at the cabin in Sanbornton. Over time, everyone had seemingly adjusted to flying, but Royce had taken the longest to get used to it. He preferred being on the ground where the possibility of a fiery crash into the side of a mountain wasn’t likely, but he’d at least gotten to a point where he wasn’t having a panic attack with every movement the plane made. Even Carrie had practically no issue with the plane rides. Mick was the only one on the plane who hated flying with a passion regardless of how often she flew, but she claimed it was only bad if she was sitting near the window since her vertigo would get the better of her if she so much as glanced out the window.

Everyone was glad when the seven-hour-long flight landed at an airport near Boston, Massachusetts. It took a few minutes for everyone to grab their things and file out of the plane, but they knew their journey wasn’t over yet. The group tossed their belongings into the trunk of the Yukon Mack and Brady had bought before attempting to pile into the car without fighting for who got what seat. After an intense game of Rock, Paper, Scissors, Royce found himself wedged in the far back with Miles and Carrie while Bentley smugly filled the seat in front of him, proudly flaunting his prized seat for the duration of the nearly two-hour-long drive north. While Bentley kept himself occupied by chatting happily with Mick and Butchy for the ride, Royce found himself staring out the window, wanting nothing more than for the ride to be over so he could see his girlfriend again and collapse into the comfort of his lofted bed.

Miles tried to distract his brother with talk of the book series he’d just started reading, but eventually gave up when Royce rested his forehead against the icy window and tried to sleep through the ride, claiming he was starting to get a headache. Instead of allowing her boyfriend to worry about his younger brother, Carrie distracted Miles with some stories from her time on set, something Royce felt grateful for. He eventually resorted to listening to the playlist Vivien had made for the two of them, hoping it would make the time go by faster. Before he knew it, his breathing began to even out, and sleep found him easily.

If it hadn’t been for the typical, New England potholes jerking the car and thumping Royce’s forehead against the glass he had once found comfort in, he probably would’ve needed somebody else to wake him when they got to the house. However, he was now wide awake and his headache had worsened. Bentley turned around and caught a glimpse of his brother’s disheveled hair and disgruntled expression and was able to figure out what happened, laughing at his brother’s expense. Carrie and Miles, on the other hand, were far more comforting.

“Are you okay?” Carrie asked, leaning forward so she could see past Miles.

Royce nodded as the car turned onto Gray Road, rubbing the side of his head with a yawn, “Just peachy.”

“Want some medicine when we get to the house?” Miles offered.

Royce shook his head, “I’ll be fine.”

A cheeky smirk breeched Bentley’s face as he teased, “Fine enough to see your girlfriend?”

“What are you talking about?” Royce asked.

“We’re surprising Viv and her family first,” Bentley answered. “Aunt Mack texted her parents when we crossed the state line and they said they’d be home from the skating rink by the time we got here. Viv, Abby, and Oliver don’t know we’re on our way.”

Royce’s eyes widened as he realized the car was pulling into Vivien’s driveway. His brothers shared a laugh as Royce quickly ran a hand through his hair and attempted to make it look as though he hadn’t just woken up. Once the car was parked and the family had begun climbing out of the car to stretch and make their way to the front door, Royce was dragged toward the front of the line and made to ring the doorbell since it was his girlfriend and her family they were visiting.

Anticipation bubbled inside Royce as he listened to the Christmas-themed doorbell chiming on the other side of the door. His girlfriend was potentially only feet away, a thick, metal door with a giant wreath keeping them apart. He had swiped his hands across his jeans enough times to not only rid them of sweat but probably remove a few layers of skin as well. Why was he so nervous? He’d been to Vivien’s house many times before and had simply walked in on more than one occasion when Vivien had told him to. Perhaps it was because he hadn’t seen her since her birthday in August. Sure, they’d done a few phone calls and video chats when they could find time between their busy schedules and the three-hour time difference between California and New Hampshire, but nothing compared to the real deal. And Royce hadn’t seen the real deal in months. 

It took a while to hear anything from the other side of the door, but soon, a familiar voice called out, “Yeah, I got it!”

All at once, the door was pulled open, revealing a Vivien who looked just as well-put-together as Royce felt. Vivien’s violet sweatpants had little Care Bears printed down one leg and her baggy t-shirt was an identical shade of purple with a smiling, rainbow flower inside of a white circle. Her hair was pulled into a pile at the top of her head, but her hair was so thick that the fluffy band holding her hair in a knot looked ready to burst. Her face was paler than usual and she looked exhausted, but to Royce, she was gorgeous.

It took Vivien a while to register that the person in front of her wasn’t the pizza guy she had been expecting to see. Instead of one of the typical high school kids who worked at one of the two pizza places they normally ordered from, Vivien found herself face to face with a teenage boy dressed like he’d stepped off the set of some cheesy Hallmark Christmas movie - blue sweater over a plaid shirt, jeans, winter boots, and neatly coiled, curly hair. What caught Vivien’s attention most, however, were his eyes; practically glowing, golden brown eyes that only seemed to brighten as he caught her gaze with a smile. Vivien’s eyes widened as she realized who it was, but her shock soon turned to horror and the tips of her ears began burning as her gaze snapped down to the outfit she’d thrown on after a long and tiring practice.

As soon as the mortification set in, Vivien shrieked and, in a panic, slammed the door in Royce’s face.

“Vivien?” her dad, Damien, questioned as he stepped through the archway that led from the kitchen and living room areas. “What’s wrong, pumpkin?”

The girl in question had pressed herself against the metal door, her eyes wide as she tried to think through what had just happened. “He’s here!” she whisper-yelled.

“Who is?”

“Royce!”

Damien glanced between his daughter and the door behind her in confusion. “And you slammed the door on him… why?”

Vivien’s shock began to wear off as she sent her dad an incredulous look, gesturing wildly to her outfit. “I look like I just rolled out of bed and raided a five-year-old’s closet! He can’t see me like this!”

Once again, Damien was confused. “Sweetheart, he held your hair back when you had the flu last February and you looked like death warmed over. I doubt he’s worried about what you’re wearing. I think he’s more concerned with why you’ve slammed the door in his face when you two haven’t seen each other in months.”

Damien smiled as he watched the gears in Vivien’s brain shift into overdrive, sorting through her thoughts and coming to terms with the fact that her boyfriend was there and she had quite harshly squashed his sweet surprise by screeching in his face and slamming a metal door in his face. As his daughter’s eyes slid shut and her head thumped back against the door, Damien chuckled and shook his head, telling Vivien that he’d be in the kitchen if she needed him. 

Vivien slowly turned back to the door, hoping the man on the other side of it hadn’t turned tail and run already. Thankfully, Royce was still standing there when she opened the door, a look of bewilderment evident on his face. To Vivien's dismay, the rest of his family was standing behind him, either laughing or trying to contain their laughter. Vivien tried to suppress her grimace of frustration as she forced a hopefully apologetic look across her face. Not only had she shut out her boyfriend, but she had also done the same to his family. Boy, she was off to a great start.

“I’m so sorry,” she managed to mutter.

Royce stepped across the threshold of the home, bringing his arms around his girlfriend and holding her close as she buried her face in the collar of his sweater. “Don’t apologize. We didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You didn’t,” Vivien claimed, her arms tightening around Royce’s shoulders as she watched his family file into the house behind them and close the door. “I realized that I look like a toddler dressed me and I might’ve panicked a bit.”

Royce pulled back just enough to look at Vivien, the fondness in his caramel eyes sending a wave of calm through his girlfriend. “You look beautiful in anything.”

With a smile, Vivien leaned closer to Royce, pressing her forehead against his and closing her eyes, something she did often. She had mentioned to Royce in passing that it was something to do with her Native American heritage, a sort of grounding, soulful gesture to show trust and give comfort, but it had become a way for them to show affection throughout their relationship. “I’ve missed you,” she whispered, her breath ghosting across Royce’s face.

Royce’s arms tightened around Vivien as he whispered in return, “Not nearly as much as I’ve missed you.”

Knowing they could playfully argue back and forth on the topic for hours, Vivien merely rolled her eyes and pulled Royce back in for a tight squeeze. They stayed like that for a while, just holding each other close. Eventually, Vivien rediscovered the other people that had arrived, locking them in hugs and chatting their ears off about anything and everything she had wanted to tell them over the last few months. In the end, though, she ended up on the living room floor with Royce and Bentley, her two favorite people in the world. It wasn't the most comfortable place to sit and chat, but as long as they were together again, it was exactly where they wanted to be.

[be-good-be-safe-be-kind]

i started reading this book back in…. i want to say 2020, but i can't be certain. i know the file was created around then, and the history of edits/highlights have been noted since then, but it feels like i only started this earlier this year. it was recommended by a friend, and i think mentioned by therapist as well, and i was doubtful since it's scientific but also kinda pop psychology / accessible to 'average' readers.

as an intro to this, i'm just gonna start by saying i have an automatic negative reaction to the word 'trauma,' i think because i was told over and over as a kid that i went through trauma, but also my only frame of reference for the word was the war vets and/or holocaust survivors who spoke to us at elementary school, telling us things that were probably too much for seven year olds. but that's a cultural thing, and a reblab for another time. tl,dr; associating the word 'trauma' with my experiences doesn't come naturally and i tend to go into 'research mode' in these events, reading the texts and stuff as an objective outsider. as a side note, the body's been sick for almost a week now, (which i know triggers at least one of the smalls out, and probably explains the winnie the pooh shit in the archive) so if my thoughts are more disjointed than usual, that's probably why. as another aside, the realization of profanity working its way in is pointing to an i/me/my who didn't start this post and likely will derail it because he fucking hates this.

all right, intro and chapter one, let's do this. trauma. stressful, disturbing, crap that leaves an impact, even when it's meant to stay hidden. i guess brains are kinda cool that way, compartmentalizing and shit, letting us survive until we can't. like it says on the tin, the body tends to hold on to the stuff even when the mind doesn't let us know, so we get tense and stressed at seemingly innocuous things. great. i can't speak for anyone else, but when the brain's smoke detector goes off here, my solution is to leave the place. no point staying in a building on fire when you can run a 5k and feel burning in your lungs and legs instead, and once the adrenaline wears off, you're too tired to notice or care if the alarm's still blaring when you return.

the whole thing with 'superimposing trauma on everything' and the imagination taking scenarios and running with it - i kinda get it. i mean, big stressors are big for a reason, and their shadow can't help but cover everything else. i used to run in a dark grey hoodie, uneven strings around the hood, hole in the pocket, ribbed cuffs. i used to run in off the shoulder, oversized t-shirt, neon shorts and pink laced nikes. paint splattered sweats and a girl with a blonde ponytail always a few paces ahead of me and a light blue inhaler in my hand that i would forget to actually use. slushy, icy snow. sand, too, i think. a beach, but like a lake, not an ocean. flickering red and orange lights, green minivans, tall trees. running now is nothing like that. sometimes there's a trail, or like one of them loop, path, things? tracks, i think they're called? the reddish not-pavement stuff around football fields. where was this going crap. uhhh. oh. right. all that crap is in the past, it has to be, and running is my thing, but it's also impossible for it to be my thing when the whatever the above word salad is interferes with it. working out is my thing but there's only so many squats and sit-ups i can do until the mat here feels like rough carpet or laminated gym floors and i'm looking out tall windows and i can't even have that.

i'm the only one here. i should be the only one here. it's my life and i'm stuck with a soft body that acts like a goddamn baby instead of taking the stupid cold medicine and moving the fuck on. 'the body needs to learn that the danger has passed' yeah fucking hell, what danger. so you got slapped and crushed and soap stuffed in your mouth and wrists chained to rails, who hasn't. that's…. okay, admittedly, not a great sentence, but it's done. fuck. fuck this shit. i'm finding sneakers and heading out.

from the body keeps the score (2014) | bessel van der kolk

[datenightfright]

YAY THEIR OPENED AGAINNNNNNNN

okay so i’m not sure if you do your godzilla master list anymore but could we get some ghidorah nsfw alphabet? if you don’t feel like it, you could do some head cannons? :)

OKAY THANK YOU BYE I LOVE YOU UR MY IDOL

NSFW under the cut:

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

Ghidorah isn't the best at aftercare. But once you explain it to him, he tries his best. He makes sure to bathe you and keep you hydrated, but he isn't going to handfeed you. He also makes sure you're checked over by human doctors if he feels he went a little rough on you. But don't expect miracles.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Fav part of his: His tongue. It's long, thick, and textured. No matter how many times he makes you cum on his dicks, you never cum as hard than when he's eating you out.

Fav part of yours: Your hands. He really likes being touched, believe it or not. And you're hands are so soft and warm. He can't get enough of your touch.

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

Ghidorah is a producer, so expect to be covered head to toe. It's thick and sticky, and hard to move through. Good thing he'd a giant fucking dragon so he can just scoop you up and bathe you in his pool.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He loves the cuddle session afterwards. Curling around you, making sure you're ok, and breathing in your scent as you quickly drift off is heaven to him. He wouldn't change it for the world.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Ghidorah isn't experienced at all before he comes to you. But he has his ideas, and figures himself very lucky you're willing to try them out with him.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Anything that has him inside you. He adores watching himself piston in and out of you. Doesn't matter what hole it is either.

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

Ghidorah and goofy don't belong in the same sentence. Don't expect him to be making you chuckle any time soon. Sexytimes is serious time, m'kay?

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He's a dragon, he doesn't have hair.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

You would think a dragon like Ghidorah would be all bussiness and no romance, but that just isn't the case. Ghidorah likes taking his time with you, to whine and dine you and then ravage you on the dinner table.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He rarely jacks off. He has you to scratch that itch. But when he does, it's only because he can't get to you in time because you're doing important diplomatic things.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

He has a jewelry kink. He LOVES seeing you dripping in gold and rubies, diamonds and emeralds. Expect to wear all manner of chains and rings. Nothing gets him going than surrounding you in luxury.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

His lair. He'd like to do it in his pool, but because he goes for so long, and, as mentioned above, cums so much, the water would cease to be water at some point, and then you wouldn't be able to wash off.

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

Anything really. Just the sight of you turns him on. But if you really want to have a good time, wear something sheer and a necklace or two. Then you won't be able to escape his clutches.

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

No public sex, ever. Anyone who ever witnesses your coupling will be dealt a swift and painful end.

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

He loves giving you oral, again because it makes you cum so hard. He also likes to receive it, but very much prefers giving it.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Normally he paces himself well during your sessions. He doesn't want to tucker out too quickly. But he does speed things up or slow things down as time dictates.

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

He isn't a fan of them but will acquiesce to one if you want.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He is very much willing to take risks as long as you are. He loves experimenting with you. You make it so much fun.

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

Ghidorah's stamina is through the roof. There is no recharge time for him. He gets hard and stays hard until he's done with you.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He doesn't prefer using toys, but will entertain you if you'd like.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Ghidorah doesn't like being teased. At the same time, he's too impatient to tease. He's very much a 'Let's do it NOW' type of dragon

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

He's actually very vocal. Not just growls, hisses, and grunts. But full on roars and bone shattering thunder. The people may never see you fuck, but they most definitely will hear it.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He likes being pegged. Like, he's really into it. If you ever want to see a giant three headed dragon beg for something, all you have to do is suggest it.

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

You're in luck. Ghidorah has three massive cocks. All tapered at the ends and ribbed and textured for you pleasure. Even when he isn't full sized he's massive.

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

He has a high yearning. Luckily for you, he understands you need to rest in between sessions.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He's slow to fall asleep. There's this magical moment when you're just starting to snore slightly, that he likes to stare at you in wonder. Trying to figure out how he got so lucky to get a mate like you.

[silversatoru]

play-thing — part one

gojo satoru x getou suguru x f!reader

t/w: nsfw 18+, dark content, drugging, manipulation, noncon/dubcon, oral (f!receiving), nipple play, this story contains very dark themes so please do not read it you’re sensitive to any of these topics

synopsis: suguru and satoru are missing something in their lives, and who better to manipulate than an lonely, impressionable girl who just moved to tokyo from another city. they’re willing to take extreme measures to transform you into their perfectly submissive little play-thing. 

wc: 1.9k

suguru and satoru do everything together; live in the same house, work at the same company, even share a closet of the most expensive clothes, but something was missing. they both felt it, the empty space between them, and they were determined to find the perfect piece to fill the gaping hole in their lives.

and you practically fell right into the palm of their hands, in a local grocery store of all places. a pretty little thing with a freshly broken heart who’d just moved here from a neighboring city. no friends, no family nearby, anxious and impressionable and desperately in need of a couple capable men to show her around. it all started with an innocent question: “hey, sorry to bother you guys, but could you tell me where the baking aisle is?”

how you ended up here you still weren't quite sure. 

“let us take you on a tour of the city tonight,” satoru had cooed at you.

“there’s a few really nice bars, we could grab some drinks,” suguru added, both their voices smooth and terrifyingly persuasive.

but they seemed nice enough, and you weren't in any position to be picky with making friends right now — after all, you’d have to get accustomed to the city somehow, right?

wear something pretty, satoru had winked at you before you parted ways and continued your shopping, and for some reason you were very inclined to do as he said. they were both intimidatingly attractive and you weren’t exactly sure what their dynamic was yet, but you decided that if you ended up in bed with one of them tonight, it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

you’d chosen a short and silky black dress, something elegant but classic that would absolutely catch the eyes of both men. and it did, satoru’s eyes glazing over your body several times before he even bothered to say hello to you. suguru was less obvious, his dark eyes giving you a quick once-over before giving you a warm smile and wrapping his arm around your shoulders as the three of you entered the first bar.

it was small, dimly lit with a few lanterns and packed tight with people. a little too crowded for your level of comfort, so you stuck closely to the sides of suguru and satoru as they led you deeper into the pub. the dark-haired male gestured towards an empty seat at the end of the countertop, the two of them standing on either side of you after you slid into it. satoru spoke with an impressive level of charisma, ordering three of the same drink from the bartender — who he seemed to know quite well.

taking a few sips of the liquor did wonders for you initial anxiety, and the casual conversation with both men was helping you to settle in as well. 

so, where are you from? 

what made you want to move to tokyo?

what do you do for a living? 

you were painfully oblivious to how the conversation stayed entirely centered around you; you still hadn’t learned anything about the two men, but they were learning everything about you. 

an hour or so in, a warm dizziness began to swirl around the inside of your head, slowly exacerbating until you felt like you were about to tumble out of your seat. you’d only had a couple drinks, and you normally handled your alcohol fairly well, so why did you feel absolutely sloshed right now? 

“guys, i think maybe-” you turned towards your two tour guides and crashed forward into suguru’s chest without warning. 

“think you went a little heavy, toru?” he scooped his hands under your plump ass and lifted your unconscious body into his muscularly arms. 

“not my fault she has no tolerance,” satoru shrugged, throwing some cash on the counter, “might be easier with her like this anyway”. 

“i suppose,” suguru clicked his tongue off the roof of his mouth, “stupid girl, didn’t your parents teach you not to trust strangers so easily?”

the two of them casually made their way out of the bar together, making jokes about how poorly you handle your liquor to anyone who gave them a questionable look — but the bar was so loud and jam-packed with people that they made it out without any incident.

you were slow to come out of your sleepy haze, head nodding up and down as you struggled to maintain consciousness and take in the scenery around you. in a futile attempt to brush some hair out of your face you realized your hands were tightly secured behind your back. panic immediately flooded your system, chest tightening and hot tears brimming at the edges of your eyes. 

“just a precaution, angel,” suguru came walking into your hazy vision, a warm smile on his face as he tucked the loose strands of hair behind your ears, “how are you feeling?” 

“wha-, whaaat happen- ed?” your words were garbled, your brain barely able to form them. 

“don’t worry about it,” satoru appeared next to suguru, “you just drank a little too much, but we’ll take good care of you, won’t we suguru?” 

“of course, no need for you to worry about anything anymore,” he gave an affirmative nod. 

“i don’t think-” you wracked your brain for any recollection of what had happened tonight, but you found nothing, “i don’t th- think i — understand”. 

“you will soon,” satoru flashed a bright smile, but it wasn’t nearly as inviting as the first time you saw it. this time it was eerie, evil, threatening — what exactly was he talking about? 

your brain was quickly turning to absolute mush, your vision getting darker and foggier than it already was as you tried to hang on to the sound of their voices.

just relax

we’re gonna make you feel good, you wanna feel good, princess?

you want us to make you feel better?

“mhm,” you gave them a slow nod. you did want them to make you feel better! you felt groggy and confused and nauseas! so of course you said yes! that is what they were asking? right?

you felt the bed shift around you, several hands tracing over your skin and gently pushing you onto your back. you tried to question them, tried to form the words, but your brain was unable to produce a single word or movement at this point.

a hot tongue connected with the side of your neck, lips latched onto the skin and sucking gently on the sensitive area. another mouth was on your inner thigh, sucking a little harder and undoubtedly leaving a small marking. you subconsciously let out a squeaky, shaky breath, the warmth of their tongues eliciting a response in your doped-up body.

goosebumps raked through your body when you felt a pair of slender fingers slip under your dress and brush over the thin material of your panties. it was satoru, his middle and index fingers prodding at your clothed cunt and sending jolts through your legs. meanwhile suguru continued to cover your neck in sloppy kisses, one of his large hands groping at your covered breasts.

your brain had gone numb, from the drugs, the confusion, the terribly intoxicating pleasure. you hated how clueless you were, how useless your body was right now, but what you hated most of all was that you weren’t even trying to fight back. their touch felt good — too good for you to ask them to stop.

it wasn’t long before satoru’s fingers were replaced with his mouth, his tongue running up and down the fold in your panties and absolutely soaking the material with his saliva. he groaned from the taste, getting just as much pleasure from this as you were. he was quick to push the fabric to the side, sliding his tongue against your sticky folds with hunger and urgency. he lapped at your cunt, flicking your clit with the tip of his tongue and evoking a series of twitches from your lazy body.

“be gentle with her” suguru’s voice sounded far off in the distance as he mumbled into your chest.

satoru heeded to the other man’s instructions, slowing his pace and going more gentle on your sensitive, puffy clit. suguru found your hardened nipples through your thin dress, rolling them in his fingers and enhancing the already blissful feeling you were getting from satoru’s tongue.

the two of them working together was incomprehensibly euphoric, your stomach coiling into tight knots with each swipe of his tongue. without warning he dove even deeper, his tongue shooting into your cunt while his nose rubbed against your throbbing bundle of nerves. between that and suguru giving your nipples a sudden tug, your body was crashing with waves of pleasure — strangled moans and pitiful whimpers the only sounds that your mouth could produce.

it was a near-holy experience, the feeling of the sedatives pumping through your veins as satoru tongued your pussy and suguru massaged your breasts through your heightened orgasm. you felt like you were floating, the room was spinning, and then everything went dark.

a real shame that you wouldn’t be able to remember any of it by the time you woke up.

bright sunlight pierced through your eyelids the following morning, forcing you awake and causing you to jolt up. you were laying in a large bed that was situated at the back of a rather large room, fitted silk sheets cool under your skin. confused of what happened and where you were, you stood from the bed and made your way to the door, feet patting on the soft carpeted floor. 

when you opened the door you entered a long hallway that led to a wide stairway covered in the same fluffy carpeting. two voices were laughing and talking beneath you, and curiosity fueled your motivation to walk down the stairs and into an open-concept kitchen and living room. 

satoru and suguru, the two men from yesterday were busy at the stove, pancakes and bacon sizzling away on two cast-iron pans. they wore matching aprons, suguru’s reading chef daddy, and satoru’s reading mr. good-lookin’ is cookin’. 

who the fuck were these guys?

“feeling better?” suguru was the first to notice you loitering at the edge of the room. 

“yeah, how are you? didn’t picture you to be such a heavy drinker,” satoru laughed, flipping a pancake with grace. 

you didn’t remember much, nothing past sitting down at the bar with them. you weren’t much for getting wasted but you were plagued with more stress than usual lately — maybe you really let yourself go last night. 

“ah, sorry about that, I don’t even remember what i did, honestly,” you shrugged, “thanks for looking out for me though, where’s my stuff?”

“in a hurry to leave? stay for breakfast,” suguru brushed off your question with a captivating smile, his eyes squinting together in the most adorable way. 

“we insist,” satoru chimed in, humming as he continued to focus on the sweet-smelling food. 

and so you stayed, which was probably the worst mistake that you’d made in the past twenty-four hours of countless terrible mistakes. 

part one | part two

a/n: im on a yandere/dark content kick today i cant help it. anyway if u wanna be tagged when i post part two lemme know :) and if u want some yandere megumi go read @katslutski​ ‘s tell me 

(ily kat <33 so happy to have someone to get into very specific obsessions with)

[gracefulsunflower]

CONTRARY - FINN SHELBY X READER; PART 6

PUBLISHED: 17/05/2022

!!FIRST PART HERE!!

Part 1

MASTERLIST

READER'S POV

(A/N: I have absolutely no idea what wedding dress shopping is like lmao bear with me here pls)

I paced back and forth, waiting for Polly and the rest of the girls to arrive.

"Keep on going and you'll tear a hole in the carpet." Finn said, lighting up a cigarette.

"Shut up! I'm going shopping for a dress everyone will see me in, it's stressful!" I snapped, turning around to face him.

He shrugged, "I'm going shopping for a suit today and I'm not walking a quarter mile."

I rolled my eyes as I unwrapped a piece of gum, "The suits are all the same, no one ever looks at suits, it's the bride's dress they all look at."

Finn hummed in agreement, and placed his hands on his stomach as he bounced his leg.

"I've been thinking," He began as I threw the gum into my mouth, "We agreed to be civil, so we called a truce but we don't have terms for the truce. We should make some."

"How smart, do you want a medal?" I snarked, sitting on the coffee table in front of him, crossing one leg over the other, trying to be mindful of the fact I had a dress on for once.

"I'm just saying, it would make stuff a lot easier if we knew what to expect from each other," Finn pointed out.

"That does make sense," I admitted, tucking my hair behind my ears and smoothing it down.

Finn produced a comb from his inner coat pocket and offered it to me. I took it wordlessly, and used it to tame my hair somewhat.

"Maybe you should tie it up?" Finn offered, making me scowl.

"No!" I snapped loudly, making him jump.

"I wasn't gonna fight you over it," Finn grumbled, making me throw the comb at him.

"So, say we do call an official truce, what happens if one of us breaks it?" I asked curiously, leaning forward, placing my forearms across my legs to support my weight.

"Whatever the other says — If I broke the truce you could tell me to run down Watery Lane wearing nothing but a smile, and the other way round," Finn decided, making me smirk.

"That sounds like a spot of fun — let's start making the rules, then," I agreed, and he got up, grabbed a piece of paper and a pencil off of the top of the fireplace, and sat back down, leaning on the coffee table.

"I'll write it up and stick it on top of the mantle so we can always see it, and so you can read it later on," Finn explained, already writing the number one.

I giggled as I realised I read the number — I learned my numbers from one to ten last night, as well as all my letters — Jeremiah called me a fast learner, a praise that kept me in a good mood all last night, even after Finn started on me because I dropped a plate.

"Okay, number one, no stirring each other up," Finn announced, writing it down.

"Number two, no touching me unless I say so," I supplied, leaning back onto my palms.

"I'll make it no touching each other unless the other says so. Number three, don't let the other get insulted in our presence, it will save a lot of fighting." Finn said, writing it down.

I frowned as I thought about how Finn didn't say anything to Linda yesterday.

"Number four, we have the right to walk away during an argument and the other person can't follow us," I added, watching the pencil glide gracefully across the page.

"Number five, look out for and protect each other — we're in the middle of a vendetta, the Italians probably know your family is working with mine, so they could target you too." Finn explained, making me purse my lips and nod.

As Finn put a full stop a knock sounded on the front door, along with Polly calling out. I got off the table, and walked over to the door, opening it.

Ezzie, Saoirse, and Lizzy were all standing there. Saoirse ran forward and cuddled me tightly.

"Are you off then?" Finn asked from behind me, coming to stand next to me.

"Yeah, busy day." Lizzie replied, "We'll see you after, come on (Y/N)."

"See you later," I said to Finn as I linked arms with Ezzie and grabbed Saoirse's hand.

"Miss Polly is driving us and Ezzie's getting in with Miss Ada and Miss Lizzie," Saoirse babbled, walking me over to Polly's car.

"Hey, Poll," I greeted, letting Saoirse slide across the brown seat before hopping into the vehicle.

"Morning," Polly replied, sending me a small smile and setting off, "I heard from a little birdie that you wanted a yellow dress?"

"Yeah, it's my favourite colour," I admitted, "But if I can't find one it's not the end of the world, I don't think we'll find one anyway."

"We'll do our best, my girl," Polly reassured me, making me grin.

"Saoirse, guess what I did last night?" I said to my little sister, watching her fiddle with the end of her coat.

"What?" She replied curiously, looking up at me.

"I learned how to read and write the alphabet, and my numbers up to ten," I said, watching her eyes widen and her jaw drop slightly.

"Can you teach me?" She asked excitedly, bouncing up and down.

"I can try," I replied, turning my eyes onto the road.

Within a few minutes we were outside a boutique named 'Susanna's Seams'. It looked nice enough. Polly stopped the car, and we all hopped out.

"Yellow dresses aren't common, so don't get your hopes up," Polly informed me, and I nodded.

The woman fixing up a mannequin in the window looked like she was going to faint when she saw us all. Polly strutted up to the door and opened it, Saoirse right behind her. I followed the pair, holding the door open for Lizzie, Ada, and Ezzie.

I shut the door behind Ezzie, and looked around. The older, frumpy woman behind the counter looked bewildered.

"(Y/N), flip that sign on the door to closed," Polly instructed, and I did as I was told.

"But we're open!" The woman in the window protested.

"Not until we leave, by order of the Peaky fuckin' Blinders." Polly said, pulling a flask out of her fur coat and taking a swig from it, then pointing the sliver object in my direction, "This young lady needs a wedding dress, something in a yellow shade."

The older woman rushed to the other side of the store, grabbing some dresses off of the rack.

"Sophie, come help," The older woman hissed, making the younger woman dart over and grab another, empty rack and wheel it over to the older woman, who started placing the dresses she gathered onto it.

I sat on a seat next to Polly, watching them scramble around for us. Once that rack was full, Sophie wheeled it over to us, the dresses ranging from a bright, eye catching yellow to a toned down, barely there yellow.

"Here you are," Sophie said, sounding breathless.

I stood up and started looking at the dresses, arranging the ones I liked to one side and the ones I didn't to the other side. I only liked three dresses.

"There's a fitting room over there near Susanna," Sophie pointed over to where the frumpy woman was, and I nodded, dragging the rack over there.

"Ezzie, get up and come help me with the zips." I commanded, and Esmeralda didn't hesitate to jump up and come over.

I grabbed the first dress and headed inside the room, Ezzie hot on my tail. I gave the dress to her, and she hung it behind the door. It was a nice dress, very much like a ball gown, with no straps and a big tulle skirt.

I started getting undressed, and, once I was in my under layers, Ezzie handed me the dress, and I undid the zip, then stepped into it, then she did it up.

"Oh, God, the material's not right, get me out," I urged, and Ezzie leaned over and undid the dress with ease.

I stepped out of it, and Ezzie hung it back up, and opened the door, grabbing the next dress. I tried it on, and the material felt fine, but it was unflattering.

"You look like a half plucked chicken," Ezzie snorted.

"Shut up," I grumbled as she undid me.

She passed the last dress, and I stepped into it, then looked at myself in the mirror in front of us, and I gasped.

It fit me like a glove, and wasn't unflattering in the slightest. It was an off shoulder gown with sheer sleeves ending at my wrists, and a tulle skirt, but it wasn't too big, just right. It had gold detailing on the bodice, which trailed down the dress.

(A/N: This is just the dress that came closest to what I imagined, you can envision your own)

"I feel like that fairy princess in the bedtime story your Mum used to tell us," I murmured, as if being loud would break the magic and the dress would turn into something horrid.

"You look gorgeous, (N/N)," Ezzie whispered as she did up the zip, "Let's go show everyone else."

She led me to where the other women were sitting, and Saoirse squealed.

"(N/N), (N/N), you look — you look so pretty!" She gushed, bouncing in her spot next to Lizzie.

"Gorgeous," Lizzie said sincerely, giving me a small smile.

"You look a vision," Ada confirmed, "If my brother seeing you like that doesn't make him want to skip the ceremony and consummate the marriage I don't know what will."

I blushed and looked away, not used to being complimented.

"Give us a spin, love," Polly encouraged.

"Yes, spin!" Saoirse shouted, clapping her hands.

I spun on the spot, giggling at how the skirt billowed around me.

"I never want to take it off," I told the girls, making Ada ‘aww’.

I felt truely and utterly gorgeous in this yellow wedding dress.

"It doesn't look very yellow," Sophie stated, making me scowl.

"It'll look yellow in the light of the sun, so shut your mouth you ignorant fucking cunt!" I snapped at her, Ezzie placing a hand on my shoulder.

"On the house," Susanna said as I stormed back to the fitting room to get dressed.

"We're Peaky Blinders, it's never any other way." Polly said flatly as Ezzie closed the door behind us, making me snicker, "And that girl there, Sophie, she needs to go — permanently."

Ezzie unzipped the dress, and I stepped out of it, pulling my other dress back on and slipping my feet into my shoes, and we walked back out to the women, Ezzie holding the dress. Sophie came over and Ezzie handed it to her to be bagged.

"Now, I don't want to have all the same style dresses, because what will suit one of you mightn't suit the other — Just pick whatever dress you want, preferably in your favourite colour," I informed the group, "The men can match a tie to a dress."

That had been a detail Finn and I had discussed last night after coming home from Jeremiah's. I didn't want everyone looking the same, we're not fucking blades of grass.

Everyone started getting off the seats and looking for dresses. Ezzie set off towards the green dresses.

I lead Saoirse over to the kids dresses, looking for a white one — Another detail we had agreed upon, the kids wearing plain white and black instead of colours. Saoirse was going to wear a dress that was white with a black sash around it, and Karl was going to wear a plain black suit with a black bow tie. I had no doubt they would have everyone clucky.

•••

We managed to get everyone the dress they wanted. Polly had picked a gorgeous purple dress, Ada snagged a dark blue, Lizzie grabbed a deep red, and Ezzie picked a bold green. The best part was that everyone looked absolutely, effortlessly beautiful in their dresses. That and the fact that we got all of the dresses for free.

I decided to keep my dress up in Polly's spare room. She didn't want me keeping it at the house in case Finn saw it.

The girls and I discussed my somethings; something old, something new, something borrowed and something blue, and I had picked them out successfully, except for my something new, because apparently Finn was covering that for the pair of us.

The something old was going to be Birdie Boswell's pearl earrings. I was hesitant to wear them, but Polly said that they were passed down to her and she could therefore pass it down to whoever she damn well pleased. My something borrowed was going to be the tie from Dad's own wedding suit that he wore when he got married to Ezzie, Bonnie, and Saoirse's mother, Rose. I was going to wrap it around my bouquet. My something blue was going to be my undergarments.

On the way home, Saoirse jumped in with Ada, and the rest of us women went to go get my something blue — nice looking undergarments, with a matching garter set. I was planning on burning them as soon as I got home.

I could just wear a blue ribbon on my wrist. What the girls didn't knew wouldn't hurt them.

§§§

I couldn't find any nice obviously yellow dresses 💔💔 buttt champagne is still technically yellow lol

Love y'all ❤️

- Sunflower x

NEXT PART

Part 7

[ozarkthedog]

Tethered / C. Evans x Fem!Reader

summary: After two months apart, Chris is finally home and he’s wearing that belt.

warnings: SMUT. 18+ only. rough oral sex. rough sex. asphyxiation. restraining with a belt. fingering. slight breeding kink. spanking. dirty talk. over stimulation. female ejaculation. basically, pwp.

word count: 2,369

author’s note: honestly, this was supposed to be a smutty little fic about his infamous red belt, but then it turned into so much more. also, for having not written anything in 2 weeks, I’d say I did ok with this.  *credit goes to gif owner.

📖 Master List

Reblogs and Likes are amazing! Feedback and comments are encouraged!

Lips were locked and bodies a tangled mess as you crossed the threshold with an “-oof.” Chris barely shutting the front door behind him with a callous foot.

The foyer was dark, dimly lit from the Kitchen light as it left just enough glow to illuminate your silhouettes. Chris pushed you against the closed front door, not caring about your pained whines when he slotted his body over yours.

Finally, you were alone after so much time spent apart.

“Missed you so much.” Chris admitted between rushed kisses, “Couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you. About this body.” His hand dove into your leggings and found your panties drenched. “About this sweet pussy.”

He leaned his forehead against yours watching as your face twisted in pleasure as he ground his palm against your tiny nub, “Can’t wait to feel you wrapped around me. Gonna split you open all over again, just like the first time.”

It’d been 2 months since you’d last seen one another and the tension was palpable. The car ride home from the airport via a car service was full of longing stares, playful touches and sneaky kisses as you sat in the back seat like anxious teenagers, desperate to get your hands on one another.

Your eyes slammed shut at his statement, knowing that despite the times you fucked yourself with the few dildos you owned while he was away, nothing compared to Chris.

He was right. It’d be just like your first time together.

He dragged you from your thoughts when he pushed two fingers into your sopping heat, tearing a broken gasp from your lips. His auburn beard scratched your cheek as he peppered kisses down your jaw. Your silky walls welcomed his digits, fluttering and constricting at the intrusion.

“Damn. Forgot how tight you can get, Darlin’.” His lips fit over your open ones as you let out a tiny moan when he scissored his fingers, spreading you open. The kiss was vicious, his tongue diving over yours with long, playful swipes. Your core clenching so hard his fingers faltered.

“That’s my Girl. Come on, lemme feel you cum. Give it to me.” He grunted, while thrusting his clothed covered hard on against your hip.

His command pushed you over the edge and you came with an abrupt shout, easily hitting your peak via another person after so long. Your body shook in his grasp as he eased away the aftershocks with soft, tender kisses.

You stared at him, relishing the way his eyes were blown wide having just seen you come apart so quickly under his touch. It took your breath away to be back in his hold again. To have him home.

His lips twisted into that dorky smile as you sunk down to your knees wanting to return the favor before he split you in two. 

“This belt. This fucking belt.” You laughed, slipping the thick red material through the shiny double loops. He wore this belt all the damn time. It simultaneously drove you mad and caused your pussy to combust. Of all the belts he could wear, he always chose this bright red one and you loved it.

Chris stared down at you in a stupor. “What’s the problem?”

You quirked your head, “Something about this belt drives me wild.”

Chris smirks at your admission but then his jaw falls when your fingers find their way inside his jeans and circle his length. His hips involuntarily jolting in your grasp.

“Fuck, it’s been so fuckin’ long.” He groaned as you pull his rigid cock from the confines of his jeans and playfully lick at his swollen crown.

He stared in fascination as you licked from base to tip before circling the bulbous head with your lips. His cock was heavy on your tongue as you swallowed him down and jerked the base with tight tugs. You rolled his balls in your left palm, clamping your thighs together to ease the ache whenever he let out a lewd groan.

You bobbed your head skillfully over his length eventually feeling his cock swell. You flicked his perineum friskily before pulling away, leaving him painfully on edge.

A deep growl resonated through his chest, “You’re playing a dangerous game, Sweetheart.”

“Then why don’t you punish me?” Your tongue poked out the side of your mouth, hoping he’d take the bait and fuck you on the floor.

He surprised you by shaking his head and dragging that god forsaken belt from his jeans before wrapping each end around his fists. “I’ll get to that sweet cunt in a minute. But right now, I want your mouth back on my cock.”

One moment you were sitting on your heels gloating and the next Chris had looped the belt around the back of your neck pulling you flush against his lower abs.

“Gonna punish that wicked mouth before I open up your cunt.”

His cock bounced in your peripheral as he held you close before easing up enough on the belt for his girth to find your lips once more. He gave you no time to adjust as he pushed his length between your lips causing you to sputter.

His hold on the belt barely gave you any freedom, only allowing you to pull off until your lips brushed his reddened tip. He let you suck on the crown momentarily until he forced his way back into your mouth when he tugged on the ends of the belt.

Your hands sought out his hips as he drove his thickness in and out nudging your tonsils with every pass. His grunts of satisfaction had your core quivering and the way his cock swelled whenever it hit the back of your throat had your eyes rolling with arousal.

“Missed bein’ on your knees for me, huh, Pretty Girl?” His mouth hung open as your debauched groans vibrated his cock in reply. “Missed havin’ my cock stretch out your holes?”

Your belly twisted at his words and then heaved when he pulled on the belt making you take every inch of his length. The breath in your lungs burned and the belt around the back of your neck dug into your skin as he watched from above at your pitiful struggles.

His brows pitched together when he felt your throat convulse, “Lookit’ you droolin’ all over my cock like a good little cock slut.”

You scratched at his jeans desperate to breathe, lungs sizzling aflame and just as your face started to tingle, he pulled free from your mouth letting you fall onto all fours.

You coughed out the stale breath from your lungs while Chris dropped to his knees behind you. He ran his hands over the curve of your ass before shoving the waist band of the leggings and your panties down your thighs effectively trapping your legs together.

-SMACK-

Your head shot up with a shriek when Chris landed the belt onto your exposed skin before grabbing a handful of your behind. “Love this ass. Love watching it jiggle as I fuck you.”

Teeth nipped at your flesh causing you to call out his name in the dim foyer and push back onto his face with a soft whimper. His fingers found your core once again, tracing your slit from end to end before spitting onto your puffy mound.

Your arms buckled and your upper body fell onto the carpet with a whine as Chris spread apart your inner lips, “What a sight for sore eyes.”

He pushed two fingers through your glistening lips, curling his digits just right to make you see stars. Your body yearned as it instinctively pushed back, softly chanting, “More.”

“You think you can take my cock? Think it’ll fit in this tight cunt?”

You whimpered when he smacked his pulsating girth against your soaked core after removing his fingers, teasing your quivering opening with his throbbing cock head. “It’s going to hurt, Baby...”

You shook your head, not caring about the repercussions. You needed his cock, now.

He slowly pushed into your warmth as the foyer filled with debauched moans and low growls. Every inch felt like it lasted forever before he bottomed out, punching the breath from your lungs when he bumped your cervix with his massive cock. He stretched you so wide it felt like you’d split in two if he wasn’t careful.

He caressed the junction of your neck with tender kisses as he leaned over you, “So good to finally be buried deep inside you.”

He kept his hips still letting you relax around his girth until he felt you shift. The growing need to get fucked was consuming your body to the point of vibration once your core got used to the thickness. You wanted him to take you hard. Fuck you into the floor and make your voice hoarse.

He chuckled in your ear at your pitiful attempts of moving under him. He breathed in your scent, the one he missed waking up to every morning while he was away. He withdrew his cock slowly before slamming back into your heat with a heavy punch that made your body shove forward with a wrecked moan.

“Need it so bad, don’t you Darlin’.” He repeated his actions, making your cheek burn on the carpet as he fucked into you so powerfully your world spun. His grip was tight on your hips as he thrusted into your swollen core, leaving crescent moons in your flesh.

“I’ll take care of you. Make sure your cunt is molded back into the shape of my cock.”

His hips never faltered. The steady pace made your body surge with every drive. He reverted to curling his hands around your shoulders making you take every inch he was giving.

Still, you needed more.

You tried to buck your hips, not knowing why you were doing it but your body just needed something. Your hands slammed into the floor and you screamed out in confused agony. Your core was tight and ready to explode but you just couldn’t get there.

Chris stilled his hips watching your turmoil before reaching for the fallen belt next to him.

“Shhh. I’ve got what you need, Darlin’.” He whispered into the dim room while grabbing the base of your neck and hauling you onto your hands.

Your head hung forward despairingly, on the verge of tears when suddenly you felt the rough belt at the front of your neck. Chris grasped both sides again, pulling steadily until you were on the tips of your fingers. Your heart leapt into your throat feeling your neck compress at the odd angle but your belly strained immensely.

Anxious gasps echoed off the walls when his hips began to move. Picking up pace with every drive, sliding over your soaked walls and pressing against your cervix with fury and determination.

Chris tugged on the belt, using the momentum to fuck your body back onto his cock, grinning madly at your raspy, choked moans and the way your walls convulsed. Slick dripped down your tied-up thighs soaking your leggings as he molded your cunt around him.

“Like me fuckin’ into this cunt like I own it?” He grunted, snapping his hips quickly feeling your walls obscenely tighten signaling your oncoming peak. “Gonna fill this pretty cunt. Make you swell with my load.”

Your body bowed; the tension unbearable. Your neck pushed against the unforgiving belt until you exploded into a million pieces when your peak slammed through you. You squirted your release with a hoarse shout, soaking your thighs along with Chris’s as he rode out your orgasm.

Chris groaned sinfully as he felt your cum drip from his sack and smack against your ass with every pummel of his cock. He pulled on the belt savagely until you were slotted against his chest. Chris wrapped his right arm around your waist possessively as your knees buckled, threatening to give out.

His left hand held both ends of the belt keeping your head locked against his shoulder. His voice gruff in your ear as he pounded into you with a controlling force.

“Such a dirty girl takin’ my cock on the floor… like a good breedin’ bitch.” He licked up the side of your face making you whine. The over stimulation had your body thrashing as he kept an even pace, pushing through your folds with a punishing pace.

His left hand tightened the slack on the belt cutting off your sobs instantly. He withheld your oxygen for a few seconds, relishing the way your body locked up around him. Your mouth bobbed open like a fish, desperate for air the entire time.

He eased the tension with a teasing chuckle, “Something about watching you struggle makes my cock so hard.”

He cut your air off again, spearing into your swirling warmth while your hands scratched at the arm wrapped around your waist frantically. The pressure in your belly boiled. You were going to cum and there was nothing you could do about it.

“Lemme feel that cunt soak my cock one more time, Darlin’.” He urged, nipping at your jaw.

His hips stuttered for the first time, getting closer and closer to the edge with every drive. He wasn’t going to last much longer but he wasn’t going to cum without you.

Your mind started slipping from the lack of oxygen and the constant over stimulation. Your body was tired and beaten, but still the pressure in your belly was intent on snapping.

“Gimme that cunt. Cum all over me.” He demanded with a harsh slap to your mound and released the slack on the belt. His fingers slapped against your tiny nub over and over until your body lit up and you shook heavily in his arms, cumming with a silent scream that finished with a feral growl.

Chris grunted in your ear as you milked his girth forcefully. His cock swelled and flooded his spend into your awaiting heat where it welcomed everything he had to give.

Chris slipped from your body and lowered the two of you to the ground panting the final tremors of the ravenous act. Your eyes felt heavy and your body screamed, but you lifted your head to plant a soft kiss on his lips as he leaned over your spent body.

“It’s good to have you home.” You whispered, against his lips as he pulled them into a smile. 

“It’s good to be home.”

[happybird16]

Tay, I saw your post about dad! Levi and I got super duper soft, I always think he'd make such a good daddy and he would protect his kid and s/o with HIS life! this man doesn't take any shit when it comes to you both, I'm in a soft mood so if you wanna talk daddy! Levi I am so down!

hope you're well <3

Hi bunny!

This just gave me the image of Levi finding out that his daughter is getting bullied in school. Idk what this was but it suddenly had to come out of my brain.

She comes home not quite crying -she’s always been rather stoic for a 9 year old, must get that from him- but definitely a bit downtrodden and defeated.

He immediately sees red when he finds out his princess is getting bullied by some boy. You practically have to physically hold your husband back from driving to the other kids house. Levi doesn’t even know what he’d do when he gets there, he’s just MAD.

Instead he settles on cooking her favorite food for dinner, complete with a sweet treat after. You complain that he spoils her, but Levi can’t help himself.

He harasses the school about it the next day, practically yelling at them over the phone. Pacing back and forth, wearing a hole in the living room carpet. “They’re only playing,” they say. “Boys will be boys,” they say.

Each response only makes him angrier. He’s beyond tempted to call the other child’s parents, though he’s not sure that’ll change anything either.

That night, after dinner, he teaches his little princess how to throw a punch. Carefully guiding her how to put her shoulder into the jab, throwing all of her weight behind her little fist. “Don’t tell your mom,” he says, fully aware that he’ll end up telling you himself at some point.

“The next time that snot nosed brat decides to tug on your hair and push you around, get him right in the nose.” His little girl bobs her head in response, the cute little pigtails in her hair swaying with the movement. He puts them there himself, carefully combing up the dark hair on her head every morning. His heart aches at the thought that one day she’ll put grow them.

A week later, he’s called to the school because of an emergency. Levi hadn’t heard anything other than the word blood before dropping everything and rushing out of his office.

The sight that greets him in the principals office shouldn’t be so shocking. His daughter, sitting in front of the large wooden desk, blood coating her tiny hand and the front of her dress. Seeing his little girl, sitting all smug while the boy who had been bullying her gushes blood from his nose, makes him feel quite proud himself.

“That’s my girl,” he says, fully prepared to absolve her of her supposed ‘crime’ to the school staff. And explain this to his wife, he supposes.

On the way home, he stops for ice cream. She deserves it after today. “Don’t tell your mom.”