#pairing her with any white man really but that’s a preference

[little-diable]

Cocky Tornado Wrangler – Tyler Owens (smut)

Finally watching Twisters tonight. My poor aunt who has to listen to me gush about our husband. Thank you so much for the love on my other Tyler fic, I hope y'all will love this just as much. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: There are many things (y/n) would prefer to having to share a room with the man she hates. But does she really hate him? Or will the bed they share be enough to push them closer together?

Warnings: 18+, smut, oral (f), piv, enemies to lovers, lots of teasing

Pairing: Tyler Owens x fem!reader (3.8k words)

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Her voice dripped with exhaustion, eyes tired and ready to flutter shut any moment now. But fuck, she couldn’t give in just yet, had to fight yet another battle with the self proclaimed tornado wrangler who was staring down at her with his signature smirk glued to his lips.

The smirk he wore in every video of his. Videos she watched whenever they were uploaded to his channel. Not that she’d ever tell Tyler that. And god forbid he’d ever stumble upon the saved favourites she watched in moments where she needed distraction from everything but him. 

“Well, seems like your prayers were answered, pretty. An EF4 and now we get to share a room, certainly feels like we’re even closer to heaven now, doesn’t it?” Tyler’s hand found her waist to give it a soft squeeze before he gently pushed her further into the motel room. It had been an exhausting day, filled with adrenaline highs as they chased tornadoes until the late evening. Even though they had been mesmerised by the beautiful disaster, they were now forced to stay in one of the close towns, cut off from the highway heading home. 

“I can take the couch.” She had her eyes set on the rather worn out couch which had been pushed against one of the walls that were painted in a faded out pink colour. The whole room made her feel like she was back at her grandparents home, letting an almost melancholic feeling settle in the pit of her stomach. 

“You sure you don’t wanna share? The bed’s big enough, or I could take the couch.” Tyler hung up his still wet hat before placing his bag down on the bed. (Y/n) watched him take in the room, giving her a few seconds to curse him for wearing a white shirt that now clung to his muscular upper body. His back muscles were shining through the wet fabric, letting her get lost in the thoughts of how it must feel to brush her nails along his soft skin. Thoughts that shot heat straight down to her core, knowing that she’d have to take care of that cursed longing in the shower. 

“In your dreams, Owens, and we both know you won’t fit on that couch.” His raspy laugh left her grinning, unable to stop her tired face from reacting to the man (y/n) claimed she hated and yet needed to feel close at any given chance. 

“Trust me, baby, my dreams are all about sharing a bed with you and so much more.” With a wink thrown her way, Tyler plopped down on the bed. He studied her for a moment, taking in her wet frame while his tongue kissed his teeth and his muscular arms were locked behind his head. She needed to get out of here, needed to find shelter in the warm shower before her body would do something she couldn’t stop it from doing. 

“I’ll grab a quick shower.” (Y/n) didn’t wait for his reply, darting for the bathroom that was just big enough for her to let go of a deep breath. 

She hated that she had dreamt of moments like these, wondering how it may play out with Tyler by her side, having to share a bed while the world outside was ending. And all they’d have eyes for would be one another, no matter how many tornadoes called for them. 

Within seconds, (y/n) had shuffled out of her wet clothes only to step into the small shower. She couldn’t stop her soft moan from leaving her as the warm water cascaded down her back as if it were hugging her. The silence she was now offered forced her thoughts back to the longing she couldn’t shake, the need to take care of the pulsing between her thighs that grew stronger with every passing moment. 

Her fingers moved quickly, knowing that she didn’t have much time before Tyler would disturb her peace, desperate for a shower himself. With her teeth buried in her lower lip, (y/n) let her fingers circle her pulsing bundle, imaging Tyler’s fingers instead of her own. 

Would he touch her with the same kind of urgency? Would he draw the same moans from her she oh so desperately wanted to give in to? No, he wouldn’t. He’d make her feel things she had never felt before, clashing through her like a tornado stronger than she had ever been fortunate enough to study. Tyler Owens was her own personal disaster and she was close to letting him rip her off her feet, close to allowing him to have his way with her without being able to protest. 

“Fuck,” the word rolled off her tongue all too quickly, knowing that she was already close to giving in to her high. (Y/n) didn’t pay the ache in her forearm any mind, didn’t worry about the way her fingers begged her to move slower, all she was focused on were her thoughts that painted a picture of Tyler and the way he’d touch her.

And with her head rolled back and her lips tightly pressed together, she came. (Y/n) let her orgasm wash through her, rubbing her pulsing bundle a few more times before her tired body found its way out of the shower.

It took her a second to realise that she hadn’t taken any clean clothes with her, drawing yet another exhausted groan from her. Carefully, she opened the door, hiding behind her towel while her eyes found Tyler’s frame. No longer was he wearing his shirt, exposing his muscular upper body to her eyes which tried to burn every inch of his naked skin into her mind. 

“Tyler,” her soft voice drew his eyes from his phone. “Do you have a shirt I can borrow?”

She expected a snarky comment, anything to tease her and rile her up some more, but Tyler stayed quiet, eyes focused on the parts of her body that weren’t covered by the door or her towel. (Y/n) could have sworn that he had swallowed heavily first before rising to his feet to reach for his bag. His eyes stayed glued to her while he reached a shirt out for her to take, letting his fingers brush against hers for a moment. 

It was cheesy almost, the buzz of lighting striking her at the small contact. A touch so small and yet so significant, her mind would probably think of it for days and nights to come.

With a small “thank you” rolling off her tongue, (y/n) stepped back into the bathroom to put on the shirt, grateful that it was long enough to cover her panties. Trembling legs carried her back into the room, not daring to look at Tyler, whose eyes she felt on her frame. No words were spoken between them as he pushed past her into the bathroom, allowing (y/n) to deeply exhale the second she was left alone once again. 

……

The moments after Tyler had returned from the shower, wearing nothing but boxers that clung to his body just as tightly as his wet shirt had, had been filled with a tight atmosphere. Barely any words had been shared between them, not as she had made herself comfortable on the couch, not as he had turned off the light while stretching out on the bed.

She had turned her back to him to stop her eyes from wandering, knowing that no matter how tired she was, her mind wouldn’t let her rest. Not when he was so close to her. Not when she heard his uneven breaths that told her he was still awake. Not when she could easily move closer to feel him pressed against her. 

What was he thinking of? Was he still riled up by today’s chase? Or was he also thinking of those moments where he had passed his shirt to her? 

Even though she begged her body to stay calm, to not move back towards him, she lost the fight within seconds. Her front was turned towards him, letting her eyes rest on the parts of his body that weren’t hidden by the blanket, making her awfully aware of how close he was to her. 

This was unusual for them, quiet moments where neither spoke, where no teasing or bickering could be heard. Nothing but the breaths both let go of while he kept his eyes focused on the ceiling and she wasn't strong enough to look away from him just yet.

“I can feel you staring, pretty.” Tyler rolled his head towards her, eyes meeting (y/n)’s like lightning striking a tree, buzzing straight through it to set it ablaze. “What’s going on in that confusing mind of yours?”

“Just because you’re not smart enough to understand my thoughts it doesn’t mean my mind’s confusing.” The words had left her all too quickly, drawing a gritty laugh from Tyler. A sound she loved hearing, no matter how hard she tried to deny it. A sound that left her smiling the second her ears were fortunate enough to hear it. 

“You wound me. I’d say we’re a pretty good team when it comes to understanding your plans.” Heat spread through every part of her body, a heat she was all too used to by now but still didn’t know how to work with. She rolled her eyes at Tyler before refocusing on his handsome features, taking in every part of the face she knew like the back of her hand. 

Her breath hitched in her chest as he lifted the blanket, patting the spot next to him, “Come up here, I don’t need you complaining about back pain tomorrow.”

(Y/n)’s body moved without holding back, crawling to the spot next to him as if she had done this numerous times before. It felt awfully right to lay next to him, to feel Tyler’s arm slowly wrap around her middle to cage her against his chest. 

“Do you remember the first time we chased together?” She tried to stop her hand from moving as he spoke, she really did. But yet (y/n) miserably failed, unable to keep away from his soft skin any longer, needing to feel it beneath her wandering fingers as she traced slow patterns on the skin of his warm chest. 

“I wanted to break your nose that day, god, you were even cockier back then. Do you still think people instantly recognise you when you meet them?” He shook his head with a smirk playing on his lips, tightening his grip on (y/n) as she shuffled even closer. That day was replaying in her mind every now and then, remembering how he had misjudged her for a fangirl, expecting her to almost faint when shaking his hand. And yet she hadn’t known much about him, had never watched any of his videos before that day. Something Tyler hadn’t taken as lightly as he should have, turning into the cocky asshole she had cursed for the past months.

“I no longer care about that, only worry about impressing you, pretty.” He pressed a kiss to her hairline before he let his eyes flicker back to the ceiling. His sharp jawline was exposed to her wandering eyes, making (y/n) awfully aware of how easily she could kiss him right now. It took everything in her not to move, to hold still as her heart picked up its beat. Whatever it was that had urged her on to fight against him these past months, it was now gone, leaving her unable to fight back and in need of something more. 

“We both know that’s a lie, Owens. All you worry about is tornadoes and busty women who ask you to sign their cleavages.” Her laugh was mixed with his as he let his gaze find hers again while squeezing her side. She fought against his grip, hating that he had found her most ticklish spot that made her toss and turn against him. Tyler seemed to enjoy the sight, letting his fingers find the spot again while shifting her around to hover over (y/n). With one hand pressed to the pillow and his knees caging in her right thigh, he left her no room to move away from him. 

“Do I hear jealousy?” His eyes wandered over her face, focusing on her lips as she fought against the need to look away. “You know there’s no need to be jealous, pretty. All you gotta do is give in and stop fighting our bond.” 

A sharp reply was burning on her tongue, and yet her body managed to win the fight, letting her fingers find the back of Tyler’s neck to pull him in for a soft kiss. He instantly replied to the touch, adding more pressure to the kiss with his body shuffling closer. It felt as if they were burning, tied together like two matches setting a petrol station ablaze, ready to alight the darkening night. 

With every swipe of his tongue, with every moan rumbling through them, it set in further that this was finally happening, that they were finally crossing that last bridge. No longer was she set on fighting it, purely focused on Tyler’s touch and the need to feel him as close as humanly possible. 

“Talk to me, baby, what do you want?” Her mind was torn between the kisses they kept sharing and the feeling of him growing against her thigh, telling (y/n) that he needed and wanted this as much as she did. Her fingers combed through his hair, letting her nails scratch his skin with just enough pressure to leave him tingling in excitement. 

“Everything, I want all of you, Tyler.” Hours ago she would have cursed herself for giving in so easily, for admitting that insatiable hunger she had felt for months now. But she no longer found it in herself to care, could no longer shy away from having whatever Tyler was about to offer her. Her words drew a groan from the tall tornado wrangler who kissed his way down her throat while shifting his weight onto his knees. They held eye contact as his hands disappeared beneath the shirt of his she was wearing, finding their way straight to her chest. 

“Fuck, feels like you were made for me, every part of you.” His praises sank in like a ship hitting the ocean ground, sinking lower with every passing second, forever resting on the ground like the praises he spoke to her. Forever etched into her mind. Forever remembering the way they made her feel lightheaded and giddy. 

Urgently he pulled the shirt over her head, set on exposing her body to his hungry eyes. Tyler let go of another groan as he looked down at her, making a silent promise that he’d have to take a picture of her in that position one of these days. He dipped his head down to  suck on her nipples, making her moan for him while she spread her thighs for him. His core met hers, leaving both breathless as his clothed cock rubbed against her clothed heat – a feeling so intense, it only urged Tyler on to move further down her body. 

“Will you let me taste you, pretty?” Only a breathless “Please” left (y/n), drawing a smirk to his lips. She watched his eyes light up as he pushed her panties down her legs, looking like he was marvelling at art – art so mesmerising he couldn’t stop staring. 

“Let me make you feel good, baby.” Those were the last words Tyler spoke before his tongue brushed her folds, drawing a moan from the both of them. His arms wove their way around her thighs, keeping her pressed to him as he ate her out like a starving man, high on her taste and the sounds she made for him. 

Nothing but moans managed to leave (y/n), getting lost in the feeling of Tyler sucking on her pulsing bundle, while he pushed two fingers into her – doing just what she had imagined him doing in the shower a while ago. He instantly managed to find that spot that made her see stars as he pressed down on it with his fingers, forcing (y/n) to choke on her sounds.

“Oh god, Tyler,” he chuckled against her skin, letting the sound vibrate through every part of her. From the corner of his eyes he could see her fist the covers with her free hand, the one that wasn’t buried in his hair, telling him that she was already close. And yet Tyler knew that he’d pull away soon, wanting to feel her cum around his cock like he had imagined her doing the past months. 

Tyler had worked hard for her attention, knowing that he had fucked it up the first time they had met. She had instantly managed to push him off his high horse, bruising his ego with her sharp words he could still recite today. And yet it had only made him desperate for more, set on pulling her closer like no other woman before her. 

“I could die a happy death between your thighs, pretty, but I need to fuck you now.” The dazy look she shot him made him feel proud, knowing that she had been about to cum on his tongue. She didn’t reply, at least not with words, with nothing but a whine did she pull him towards her for another kiss. He shuffled out of his boxers, freeing his twitching cock with a few movements. 

“Let me grab a condom.” He left her side for a moment, allowing (y/n) to sort through her thoughts which were all over the place. And yet she couldn’t carry about anything but the need to feel him buried inside of her, knowing that once she knew what it feels like to have him so close, she’d never be able to let him go again. A thought that left her torn between excitement and anxiety, unsure what was awaiting them. 

“Do you still want this? We don’t have to do this if you’re unsure, (y/n).” Tyler’s whispers ripped her out of her spiralling thoughts. She shook her head at him before pulling back in, focused on his handsome face, mustering every spot she could blindly find. 

“I want this, want you.” That’s all he needed to hear before aligning himself with her heat and slowly pushing into her. With his forehead pressed against hers, both needed a moment to adjust, not expecting to feel this, unable to put the sensation into any words that would make sense to their minds. It felt like they had been made for one another, made solemnly for this moment that felt as if the world had spinning, thrown off its path. 

“Move, please, Ty’.” He instantly gave in, pulling out of her only to push in with more strength. Their bodies met with every ferocious thrust, sending bolts of electricity down her spine. She arched her back off the mattress, needing to be even closer to him while he kept burying himself inside of her. 

Blood rushed in her ears, drowning everything out but the sounds Tyler made, sounds so raspy and deep she feared it was another tornado growing in the distance, guttural sounds which left her walls fluttering around his cock. Her fingernails scratched at his shoulder, set on leaving red marks that wouldn’t fade for days, claiming him in the most primal way she could come up with at that moment. 

“God, I can’t wait to fuck you like that for the rest of my life.” The words roll off his tongue just like that. There was no way he could stop them from leaving him. And for the first time in minutes she finds herself ripped out of her state, staring up at him with wide eyes. But Tyler doesn’t say another word, all he does is study her while fucking her closer to the edge. 

“Do you mean that?” She struggled to speak, needing to ground herself before choking on her words. Their eyes kept holding contact, even as he nodded his head while watching a smile grow on her slightly swollen lips. “Good, I don’t want you to let me go again, Owens.”

He took the words as a challenge, adding even more pressure to his thrusts to throw (y/n) back into her dazed state. With his fingers circling her pulsing bundle, he knew that it was only a matter of moments before she’d cum around his cock, allowing him to take in the most beautiful sight he’d ever be fortunate enough to see. 

His name left (y/n) one last time before falling off the edge. His hips kept meeting hers, fucking her through her high while feeling his own crawling closer. She clung to him, murmuring his name like her own personal mantra as he followed her, letting go with a groan she’d forever remember.

It took both a moment to move again, for him to pull out of her and to get rid of the condom and for her to slightly shift around on the mattress, watching his every move with her weight balanced on her forearms. Tyler found his way back to her within seconds, hovering over her to press another kiss to the lips he’d never get tired of kissing. 

“Are you okay?” His whispers left (y/n) grinning, nodding against his lips while another wave of euphoria swapped through her. 

“More than.” Unspoken feelings were hanging heavily in the air, knowing that both would have to address them rather soon, but all they did was look at one another, marvelling at the person they never wanted to let go of again. “Thank you for this.”

“Nothing to thank me for, pretty. And hell, I’m not even close to being finished with you tonight.”

[sleepysnk]

hanma + his girlfriend whose oblivious to the fact that his roommate is hitting on her 🤍

a/n: cijsjxjwjd i saw this and was very intrigued, but nonetheless, my brain was working at 3 am and here we are. sorry if this is shitty 😭! thank you for sending this in by the way! 🫶🏻

pairings: hanma shuji x fem!reader

warnings: modern au, college au, slight kisaki x reader, flirting, jealousy, possessiveness, nsfw, smut, some exhibitionism, unprotected sex, dirty talk, praising, use of pet names (doll, babydoll, princess, baby), some rough sex, breeding kink.

thrill ft. hanma shuji

He really hated how fucking oblivious you were.

He watched with sharp eyes how you stood there with that gorgeous smile on your face, speaking with his roommate oh so casually. Giggles flew past your lips at the little jokes Kisaki cracked to make you laugh. He wouldn’t have said a word, but a certain sentence made Hanma almost question his entire friendship with the man he had been living with for the past two years. 

“Your laugh is cute.. really cute actually.”

Hanma could not stop thinking about it.

When you paused in your snickering, he figured you would have abandoned the conversation, but you didn’t. Instead, you did the exact opposite and kept speaking with Kisaki. You even thanked him for his compliment. Hanma couldn’t believe that his flirtation went completely over your head. He was the only one who caught onto it. He knew Kisaki Tetta better than anybody else, and he knew damn well when he was trying to get at something he craved. 

He wanted to do something about it. It wasn’t the first time Kisaki had said something suspicious around you. Yet, you didn’t say a word and assumed it was platonic. However, Hanma knew that wasn’t true at all. He was done with your ignorance and he was ready to crack.

That’s how you ended up with your legs thrown over Hanma’s shoulders. His cock pressing deep into your womb, sending you over the edge from the euphoric feelings. He wasn’t showing any mercy either. He didn’t care how loud you were or how you practically begged him to not stop with tears brimming at your lash line. 

A sadistic smile wore itself into his gorgeous features. He had the best view in the whole fucking world, and he wasn’t going to let anyone, not even Kisaki, get a chance to see it. You were his. You were his angelic little girlfriend. He wasn’t about to share you. 

The hand with ‘Sin’ tattooed on it trailed down your abdomen slowly. Your flesh was like silk beneath his slender fingers. “Shiiiit, you’re driving me crazy, princess.” he slurred. 

Your fingernails clawed at the skin on his shoulders. The pleasure became almost unbearable from how great his thrusts were. You could hardly keep up with him. “H-Hanma! It’s.. too m-much! Ah!“ your head fell backwards onto the pillows behind you, eyeballs disappearing beneath your eyelids. 

God, you were so fucking stunning like that. He honestly wished you could see yourself the way he did, because he couldn’t get enough.

Your lips were swollen with drool pooling deep within your mouth, your pretty eyes were glassy with tears, and most of all, your delicious cunt was sucking his cock in perfectly. A white ring wrapped around the base, allowing him to slide inside you with such ease. If he wasn’t careful, he’d slip out, and he couldn’t allow that. Not when you’ve been taking him like the good girl you were. 

Squeezing your thigh, he pushed your legs apart further so he could stare at your pussy. It was so swollen and wet. He could feel his mouth watering at how it looked. “F-Fuck.. yeah, you take me so well, baby.” he groaned, “M-Might have to put one in ya, babydoll. You’re so fucking good.” 

He smirked when he felt your walls quiver around him tightly. You always preferred when he came inside of you. Your velvety walls covered with his cum were sending you into a frenzy. “Inside..! P-Please, Hanma!” you blubbered, looking at him with desperation in your eyes. 

He scoffed, placing your legs around his waist so he could angle himself. It’d be perfect for him to fuck his cum deep inside of you. “Yeah..? Want my cum in you, princess?” he cooed. “Such a pretty baby.. I’ll make sure you’re full.”

Hanma’s golden eyes flashed towards the clock beside the bed. He smiled devilishly when he realized that a certain someone was just a few minutes away. He knew you’d be embarrassed, but Hanma wanted Kisaki to know that you’re not to be messed with. He’d have to sit there and watch as Hanma made you cum, not him. He was the only one who could send you over the fucking edge. 

Your second orgasm was already on the horizon. The knot beneath your belly was tightening with every little thrust. Hanma could feel the way you were clenching down on him. He was determined to make you reach it. He wanted to see you fall apart underneath him. You were always the prettiest when you screamed his name. 

White stars danced along your vision as he poked at your g-spot. You were slowly losing yourself. Your mind becoming lost within a thick cloud surrounding it. “I-I’m gonna.. cum! Hanma! Oh, Hanma! Right there!” you cried, your thighs beginning to tremble as your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave on a shore. 

Hanma intertwined your fingers with his as you came. He was so close to his own high, but you looked too pretty to not admire. “That’s it, doll. Cum for m-me..” his hips began to stutter as his cock twitched inside of you. “Gonna fill up this pretty cunt.. make it all mine.” 

You watched him with hazy eyes as he fucked you with such desire. The grip he had on your hand was so tight that his knuckles turned white. The effects of your orgasm were slowly disappearing, and you started to feel that white-hot pleasure again. All that came from your lips were whimpers and whines for him to cum inside you. 

A loud groan suddenly escaped his mouth as he finally reached his orgasm. Thick, white spurts of cum began to cover your pretty walls, filling you completely. Hanma practically emptied himself inside of your cunt, and he had zero regrets.

Panting, he leaned down to catch your lips on his. The kiss you shared was sloppy, but passionate. It honestly turned him on all over again, so he’d probably have to shove you into the shower so he could have another round with you. Plus, he didn’t have to clean a mess. 

“Ahem.”

The two of you turned your heads to meet an embarrassed, but angry Kisaki. The blonde stared at his roommate with annoyance.

Hanma knew it was coming, especially since he was fucking his sweet girlfriend on Kisaki’s bed. 

“Sorry, couldn’t help myself ♡.”

[eddiemunsons-missingnipple]

No man's land

♡ Pairings: Eddie munson x reader

♡ Summary: a little something for the people who suffer from insomnia or just have a hard time sleeping.

♡ Warnings: fluff, none. Just some language but nothing terrible. Eddie calls the reader baby. No use of y/n.

♡ Word count: 1.1k

♡ A/n: This has been sitting in my drafts for way too long. While this is just a fluff piece, I would still prefer if minors didn't interact with my work. Thank you. Please reblog, like, and comment to show support.

3:00 am.

It was late very late and another sleepless night for you. You tossed and turned for hours trying to find the right position to rest, but it was no use. You just couldn't sleep. There really isn't even a reason behind it.

You weren't stressed at the moment. You and Eddie are both in a good place. You wish you could put a reason as to why this happens, but there is none. Not one thing. This isn't something new for you, though. You just wanted some type of excuse this time.

You carefully got out of bed trying not to disturb your sleeping boyfriend next to you. You make your way to the living to watch some TV. Perhaps you'll fall asleep out here, but you know that's highly unlikely. You tip toe into the kitchen, slowly opening up the cabinet above the stove to make some tea.

Wrapping yourself up in a warm blanket with Eddie's Garfield mug in both hands, you flick through the channels until you land on your favorite show. You kept the lights off, not wanting to disturb him in any kind of way since he has to be up in soon for work. Believe it or not, Eddie was a light sleeper, and the slightest noise or light could wake him.

"Why'd ya leave me?" His rasped with a pout on his face.

Foot steps trudging down the hall tell you that you were not as quiet as you thought. You turn to look over blanket draped over your head. There, he was standing in the hallway rubbing his tired eyes. His hair sticking up every which way. The white boxers with red lips, you got him for Valentines Day as a joke, hang low on his waist. He's missing one sock on his foot. You snort when you see him. He looks lost like he doesn't know how he got there.

You always thought his sleepy voice was so cute. He hated it.

"Couldn't sleep again." You sheepishly told him, taking another sip of tea.

He moves to plop down beside you, kicking his feet up on the coffee table folding his arms over his chest. His eyes bloodshot from just waking up. The brightness from the TV screen making his eyes water.

"Whatcha watching?" He yawned.

You snuggle up close beside him, resting your head on his shoulder. "Grey's Anatomy."

Nodding his head, looking semi interested. He wraps his arm around your shoulder, bringing you closer to him.

"Eddie, you have to work in the morning." You whispered, looking up at him.

"It's okay if you can't sleep. I can't sleep." He squeezed you tight, kissing your forehead.

About an hour has passed since you and Eddie have been awake.

"What do you mean they found her lingerie pictures and showed them to everyone?" He argued, getting frustrated at the show.

"Dr. Model wow!, what a great insult...prick." He murmured, shaking his head.

"Yeah, she only did that to pay for school." You informed him getting a kick out of how upset he seems to be for lzzie.

Whatever sleep filled mind he had was gone now. He's wide awake, staring at the bright TV screen. His eyes are still bloodshot and puffy, but he's not tired. Not anymore. Too worked up and annoyed at what he's witnessing

His mouth drops in shock. "And this dickhead just walks around showing them to everyone?"

"Yep, pretty much." You take another sip of your tea, which is now too cold.

"Lemme get a taste." He motioned at the Garfield mug, eyes glued to the screen. He takes a big gulp, making a disgusted face at the now ice-cold chamomile tea.

He bought that tea specifically for you when he heard it helps with sleep. He always did little things like that for you. He'd buy you an entire life supply of chamomile tea if it meant you could finally rest.

He leaned forward elbows resting on his knees. He was still getting riled up at the plot that he didn't notice the alarm clock going off.

"It's time for work." You mentioned sadly.

"Oh, I'm calling out. I can't leave until I know what happens next." He says matter factly. He's too engrossed in the show now to stop watching. "And I can't leave you either."

The sunrise peaking in through your blinds, giving your living room a warm glow. "Wanna get breakfast?"

"Sure." You smiled sweetly at him.

"Then we can finish up this season and try to get some sleep, yeah?" He goes to stand, stretching his long limbs out.

"I hope so, but if I can't sleep, that doesn't mean you have to stay up too." You really don't want him to think just because you struggled with this that he has to as well. You've dealt with insomnia almost your whole life. You can handle losing just a day's worth of sleep. You hope it's just a day's worth.

"I don't think so. If my baby can't sleep, then I'm not sleeping."

"But." You tried arguing.

"No buts." He argued back, bending down to give you a quick kiss on the lips.

You shyly smile at him, wondering how you even found someone so caring. Sometimes, you truly believe you don't deserve him. You know that's not true, and he definitely knows that's not true. He's just so kind and thoughtful. You really didn't think there were people out there in the world like him. Eddie would constantly do things for you without even considering something in return. You're still not used to that but you're trying.

"Well, then we better get moving. We don't wanna miss anything." You go to stand next to him, stretching out your arms as well.

"I'm not putting clothes on. We can just go through the driver thru." He said, grabbing his keys. No shoes or anything. Just one bare foot padding along the carpet.

"Well, at least wrap yourself in this blanket, jeez." You roll your eyes playfully as you both head for the front door. You tossed him the blanket that was used as your own personal, safe haven. "You trying to get arrested?"

"Wouldn't be my first time." He joked, throwing the blanket around himself and heading out the door.

Eddie kept his promise to you that day. He did eventually doze off on the couch with you. It's not entirely his fault, though he made the mistake of laying his head in your lap after breakfast. Your hands scratch his back, and playing with his hair always made him relax. If there was ever a moment you wanted him to sleep, that was all you had to do, really. He'd instantly melt in your hands.

You stayed up, finishing off the rest of Greys Anatomy with Eddie softly snoring. You didn't sleep, and you weren't counting on it. Maybe you will tonight? Doesn't matter it comes in patterns for you. You know what to expect when this happens.

You're just happy you won't have to deal with it alone anymore. Whether you liked it or not. Eddie was going to be by your side helping you through it. No matter how much you argued that he shouldn't. He was stubborn, and once his mind was made up, that was it.

[thezombieprostitute]

The Arrangement

Summary: Jake's done a lot of things to keep his sister, and then his niece, safe from his parent's influence and manipulation. If he wants to keep them safe, he has to marry you.

Warnings: Bad parents, Disgusting comments of a sexual nature. Let me know if I missed any!

Chapter 1 -- Chapter 3

Series Masterlist

Your mother rushes into your room, followed by her many assistants. "It's today," she tells you. You give her a confused look and she rolls her eyes. "The marriage. It's happening today so you'd best dress up. My ladies will do your hair and makeup so you can look somewhat decent for your new husband."

"Yes, mother," is all you can say. Any attempts at pointing out you'd had no notice would be futile. And should you dare try to state a preference in your looks it would be immediately dismissed, paired with an insult. Best to just comply and do as she says. You make sure to follow the instructions of the hair and makeup team. They have to put up with your mother, too, so you always try to be polite to them.

As soon as they finish your mother shoves you in front of a mirror. "There," she coos. "Don't you look so lovely?"

You think you look like a clown. Like a lesser copy of her. "Yes, mother. Thank you."

"Would have gotten you a better dress but you refused to lose weight," she sighs. You bite your tongue. The doctor said you were healthy, that should be enough. But not for her.

"Now," she continues, "we will be meeting your father and brother at the Jensen estate. Apparently they've already go the paperwork and notary crap sorted out. Remember to walk gracefully, be polite, and for the love of everything, smile. I don't need my daughter's wedding photos to look like a funeral had happened!"

"Yes, mother."

Jake is really trying to keep calm. His father, father-in-law and brother-in-law are all drinking to the "marriage" happening this afternoon. Apparently they're just waiting for the bride and her mother to finish getting ready. Jake is scared she's going to be just like his own mother: power hungry, demanding, backstabbing, cold. Meeting the bride's family has not helped assuage his concerns. If anything, it only further drives his conviction that he did the right thing, breaking his sister's engagement. The only thing keeping Jake calm is Clay's presence. Having an ally makes a world of difference.

Montgomery, his father-in-law, is already three drinks in. "And as a wedding gift to the happy couple, your father and I have purchased a penthouse and a car that you won't be embarrassed to be seen in."

"Are you ashamed to be seen in an American classic?" Clay raises an eyebrow.

"It's a pinto," Travis, the brother-in-law, scoffs.

"Exactly," Clay calmly says. "An American classic."

Travis rolls his eyes before turning to Jake, "I'm kinda disappointed you agreed to this thing. I was kinda hoping for that niece of yours. You know, once she turns 18. The young ones are so much easier to train."

Jake's gripping his glass so tightly his knuckles are white. He has to behave, it's in the contract. And punching his brother-in-law would not be behaving.

Thankfully Clay has his back. "Young man, you've got problems. I'm specifically talking in the bedroom, but I'm sure you've got plenty of problems outside as well. If you need some lessons on how to please a woman, I'm happy to give you some pointers."

Travis glowers at him but Clay just smirks.

A knock at the door breaks the tension in the room. An attendant comes in, "the bride is here."

The first time you see Jake, your heart falls. He looks angry, mean. You didn't have much hope about being treated well to begin with but this just solidified it.

The first time Jake sees you, his own heart does the same. You're the spitting image of your mother. He mentally prepares himself for a life of being scolded for never being enough, a life of being cheated on, a life without love.

The documents are signed and notarized. The fake smiles are pasted on for the photos. Jake is given the keys to both the penthouse and the car. Clay promises to meet them there, driving his pinto.

You and Jake sit silently in the car. Both wanting to cry.

Chapter 1 -- Chapter 3

Series Masterlist

Tagging: @alicedopey; @ashdoctor; @delicatebarness;@ellethespaceunicorn; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @ronearoundblindly

[lovelytsunoda]

don't go breaking my heart // lance stroll

soft moments stolen between wedding and reception

weddings are joyous and festive, but can be stressful for introverts like lance and his wife. so when they were able to steal some moments with each other in the peace of his aston martin between the ceremony and the venue, they know these are the moments they will treasure the most from that day.

pairing: lance stroll x newlywed reader

warnings: just fluff, a minor minor allusion to sex.

author's note: i have no idea why i have written so many wedding things for this man, but i think it's because he is the raw definition of husband material. thank you and good night lmao.

“don’t go breaking my heart…I couldn’t if I tried”

elton john and kiki dee crooned over the speakers as lances aston martin drove through the quebec countryside. it was a quiet night, stars high in the sky as he ran his thumb over his wife’s thigh.

“I love you.” he hummed, daring to look over at the love of his life as he took a corner too fast. “my darling darling wife.”

she smiled, meeting his gaze. “eyes on the road, handsome. you’ve got the rest of your life to stare at me. I love you too.”

the wedding had felt like a blur, maybe because of how wired they both felt. it should have been a smaller ceremony, in all hindsight considered.

it was an odd thing: you want to celebrate your love around all these people, but then the day arrives and suddenly you feel anxious at letting them see you pledge your heart to another.

lance and y/n had always been the quiet, soft couple. the one evoking ‘awe’s and heart eyes from the groups around them. they knew each other like the backs of their hands, better than any track map or textbook.

“enjoy the quiet while it lasts.” she hummed, nimble fingers gently easing the pins for her white lace veil out of her hair. “is it bad that I’m dreading my own reception?”

lance laughed. "nope. because i am, too. i know it's all about us and all that, but i hate being the center of attention. i would have rather had a dinner party."

she snorted. "technically this is really just a rather large dinner party."

"i mean, there's food and wine, you picked a damn good throwback playlist. dinner party." lance shrugged, taking his foot off the gas, headlights illuminating the empty road ahead.

lance had decided to take the scenic route, savoring this moment alone, this little bit of calm before the storm. before the party, the noise, the people.

just him and his wife, falling a little bit more in love with each other every day.

"if scotty throws his back out dancing to 'suicide blonde', i'm not fucking helping." y/n laughed, reaching for the stereo to flip to the offending inxs song. "i still cannot believe that this song was about kylie fucking minogue."

"there's a reason we invested in the mocktail bar."

"you know most of the guys have flasks hidden in their suit jackets, right?"

she would have preferred something low key, but her family had wanted the big party. it wasn't all bad. she got to pick the food (pasta bar, anybody?), the drinks, the decorations, the music. she'd made a throwback playlist of all her favorite happy songs, all the ones that made her feel alive, giddy and in love, ranging from inxs to def leppard to kesha.

she'd waited twenty-five years for this moment, so why was she suddenly getting this bad feeling about going to the party that followed?

the event venue slowly came into view over the distance, the white brick building with it's pillars and vintage charm, the walkway to the door lit up with fairy lights. the small parking lot was already almost full, the rest of the guests waiting inside for the happy couple. lance parked his car furthest from the door, but kept the engine running.

he took her hand, running his thumb over her knuckles. "we can turn around and drive away." he was dead serious when he looked over at her. "i'm serious, we can run and go get burgers and milkshakes and see a movie and then go back to the hotel and not sleep a minute because we are too busy having the goofiest, most romantic sex of our lives. i just want you to be comfortable."

"i know. and that's why i love you so much, lance." she sighed, a smile blooming on her face. "but our friends are in there. our parents are in there. hell, your dad is probably trying to sell my dad on buying a time share villa in biarritz."

lance laughed, leaning over the center console to kiss her forehead. "whenever you want to leave, you just tell me. if you need a minute to yourself, just shoot me a text message and i'll come and find you. or don't, if you just want a walk in total solitude. i'll probably need one of those at some point, too."

"i knew there was a reason i married you." she joked, tilting her head up to press her lips to his. "i love you to the moon and back, lance."

"you wanna go inside?"

"we might as well."

lance took his seatbelt off, shutting off the car and sliding out of the driver's door. her dramatically slid across the hood, earning a laugh from his wife as he skipped towards her door, opening it for her before extending a hand for her to take.

"beautiful girl, love of my life, may i help you out of this shockingly low car?"

she laughed, slipping one of her hands into his warm one. "yes, my beautiful husband. yes, you may."

she stepped out of the car, the hem of her white silk dress dusting the gravel in the parking lot. a breeze ran through the area, making the hair on the backs of her arms stand up.

"love, you're shivering." lance said softly, slipping out of his suit jacket and draping it over her shoulders, pressing a kiss to her forehead as she put her arms through the sleeves, wrapping her arms fully around her husband. "i love you."

"i love you, too." she took a minute to stand there, her nose in his dress shirt, breathing in his cologne. bath and body works, today. she liked that. something playful and romantic instead of the heavy, stinging designer scents he usually wore.

"we should go inside." he whispered, their bodies swaying together in the silence, her skin warm against his.

"or we could stay out here just a little longer."

and who was he to argue with that?

"you get five more minutes. i'm starting to get hungry and the pasta bar has my name written all over it."

TAGS:

@magnummagnussen @libraryofloveletters @cartierre @diorleclerc @httpiastri @silverstonesainz @lorarri @twinkodium

[winterarmyy]

Plot Twist | Part I

An arranged marriage with mafia!bucky.

Run-through: I just need to get this out of my system. Most of arranged marriage mob/mafia!au I've read has a strong/bratty reader. And a really mean/asshole Bucky. Which is absolutely fine btw but its getting repetitive for me. I wanted to see a reader who's actually soft but fierce when she wants to be. And Bucky who is generally cold and seems to be married to his job but notices small things that the reader do, thus subconsciously started to care about her. They don’t hate each other, nor do they are infatuated. I don’t know if this exist, so I decided write it myself just in case. Enjoy!

Navigation: Part I | Part II | Part III* (end) | Extra

Words: 1.1k++

Pairing: beefy mafia!bucky x female!reader

Warnings: just fluffy and wholesome stuff here. Nothing graphic or explicit.

P/S: I like to write in 3rd pov btw. There's a few mentions of y/n sometimes too. Beware of the grammar mistakes, English is not my first language. This might be 2-3 parts type of fic, so tell me what you think so far.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

“He's late.”

The soft clinking sounds of his rings colliding with each other and onto the dresser woke her up from her deep slumber. Though her body remained still, her mind continued to wonder,

“Late. Again.”  She thought.

The sound of fabrics rustling about hinted her of what was happening beyond her closed eyes. The shut of the bathroom door confirmed her speculations.

“So, what if he came back home late? Why does it concern you?” She questioned herself.

Only a fool would believe if she said that she didn't care at all about the whereabout and well-being of this man. He is her husband after all.

Six months ago, she stood on the alter with that man. They swore an oath. They sealed the kiss. He was hers and she was his.

James Buchanan Barnes; Bucky was what he preferred to called. He is what every man wants to become, and every woman wants to be with.

An Adonis of a man; impossibly tall, 6'5"; body armored with thick layer of muscles. Bucky is huge, that if he trapped her against the wall, she might just see the resemblance of him to a grizzly bear. His dark hair flowed just above his shoulder and his steel blue eyes were as cold as his personality.

Though she wouldn't compare him to a frozen blizzard during the winter, he was more like the first day of snow, when the white flakes started to fall.

Cold enough to make you shiver and warm enough to lure you out but most importantly, obscenely beautiful.

However, of course, the main reason of the marriage set up by her father was not because of how beautiful he is, but to fulfil his hunger for power. As if the territories that their family has wasn't enough, her father arranged this union to extend his reign.

Y/N protested at first but knew better than to fight against her father. Being raised in such family, at a very young age she learned to think always ahead; pass the emotions and intuitions. What's the rational and logical way to solve a problem.

Took her a week to wrap her head around the matter, research about Barnes and go through the agreement between her father and her then husband to be. Barnes had listed some main demands regarding the union and although most of them were about their business, but one particular demand had caught her attention.

“After marriage, the couple must be faithful to one another. Any romantic/sexual relationships prior must be severed/resolved immediately. Failed to do so will result to termination of the contract.”

“Hmm. Interesting.” She thought.

Not that she was in any relationship at the time, and all the research result to possibly positive outcome. So, in the end, she complied.

Which then explained why she was sleeping in Bucky's bed six months later.

“I know you're awake.” Bucky's gravel voice startled her internal thoughts. She could feel the indentation of the mattress on his side of the bed, the fresh and clean scent wafting from him. She nearly purred from a sniff of it.

She slowly opened her eyes as if she was trying to peep and god what a sight to see after a restless sleep; Bucky's idea of pajamas was basic pants and nothing above and Y/N didn’t know what to feel about that. Does she hate it? Absolutely not. Does she like it? Well, he is easy on the eye indeed.

The room was dimly lit, but she could see his slightly damp hair; it looked longer than it is dry. Her eyes followed the outline of his body leaning against the bed. The soft light reflected on his metal arm particularly follows the gold lines decorating the dark surface.

She often had intrusive thoughts of tracing the lines; what would it feel like against her fingertips. Does he feel anything? Is it cold? Will it feel good? 

“You do know that it’s a waste your time to wait for me, right?” He huffed a heavy breath. She could hear the fatigue in his sigh.

And how does Bucky know that she waited for him before admitting her defeat to the drowsiness? Somehow, Bucky always managed to know things, to the littlest matter, even when he’s million miles across the world.

Just like when she found a copy of Pride and Prejudice on the bed a few months ago. The day before she received it, her copy was drenched in coffee; a young woman bumped into her in front of the café she often visit. He was in Russia that time. “Was it Clint? Did he tell Bucky?” she wondered.

“Whoever said I was waiting for you?” She scoffed, yet if the room was well lit enough, Bucky would’ve seen how playful her expression was.

He hummed a deep voice, “Hmm.” there’s a hint of doubt in his tone.

Y/N quickly follow her previous sentence, “I was simply enjoying my reading, that I lost track of time.” She shifted to face him and tucked herself further into the blanket, hiding the lower half of her face as she looked up at him. She wondered if he could tell that she was smiling just from her eyes.

Bucky’s gaze remained still on her, as if he was trying to reach into her soul, before he leaned closer to peek on the book on the table. Pride and Prejudice written on it.

He chuckled, which was rare. At the least the real ones are.

Of course, she had seen him smile and laugh countless of time. Especially during those gala they often attend. But those were just another set of armor he wore on a daily basis.

Bucky tried to bite back a smile, sinking his teeth into his lower lip, “Lost track of time, huh?” Yet, somehow Y/N can hear the smile in his tone.

“A good read?” he asked as if he did not know why his wife brought up about the book. She never said anything about the gift; not a thank you or a complaint. 

She simply cherish it in her own way. He heard from Clint that she rearranged her whole bookshelf just to make space for the book he gave her. Maybe this was her way of saying thank you.

He had been giving her books every week, since.

She pulled the blanket away from her face, lips curled into a genuine smile, “Always.”

Bucky preened to her reply before suddenly, “Okay, enough chit chat. It’s late.” he said almost monotone sounded, as he made himself comfortable under the blanket.

Before she could overthink of what went wrong, why the sudden drop of chemistry; that was when she felt his hand roamed to find hers. Bucky brought her palm closer to his face, she could feel his hot breath against her cold skin. 

He leaned his lips on her palm, leaving a soft and tender kiss as he mumbled, “Goodnight, doll.”

Rush of red shades bloomed on her cheeks, before caving into the feeling of his stubble on her hand. She gently caresses the side of his cheeks, hoping it soothes him to sleep. 

The corners of her lips curved upwards into a smile, "See? Like, the first day of snow."

Part II >>

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: It’s my first fic so... share your thoughts? ily 🤍

[httpscomexe]

Ballroom Dance

Day 2 of Kink-Tober - Blindfolds

Summary: You’re a princess, and part time baker. Or rather the other way around, and you somehow find yourself in Loki Laufeysons hands.

(Find What I’m currently writing by checking my pinned post)

Parings: Loki x Reader

Warnings: (Lmk if I missed any) PV sex, mentions of forced marriage, blindfold kink.

Tags: @cellyx33 @foxherder @shybluebirdninja

Word Count: 1831 (Find my Kink-Tober list here)

P.S. If you would like to be added to the Kink-Tober tag list, just let me know.

“Okay and would that be it?” The lady before you nods, letting go of her child’s hand for a moment to reach into her pocket, presumably for change. “Ma’am, we don’t accept any forms of payment.” She looks up. Stunned.

“Well then how do I pay for the food?” She asks, her eyes watching as your friend reaches over your shoulder, a brown paper bag in his hand that he sets on the counter in front of the woman.

“You have a nice day ma’am.” He walks away, moving to make the next costumers order.

“This isn’t earth ma’am. This is Asgard. You don’t have to pay to survive.” She smiles, some hope in her eyes as she thanks you and takes the bag, leading her children out of the bakery. “Good morning sir, what could I get for you?” You tap on your screen, making sure to mark inventory before your eyes look up and land on the bluest eyes you’ve ever seen. A man stands in front of you, a menu in his hand. His black hair tied into a messy bun, he was wearing light armuor, you assume he’s from the castle. And when he looks up, you know he is.

“Good morning milady.” His voice is butter smooth.

“Goodmorning… Prince Laufeyson.” You try not to stutter. Managing it horribly. It wasn’t often you see the royalty of Asgard, let alone one of the princes. Especially Loki Laufeyson. He didn’t seem the type to stop by the bakery in the morning. “What can I make for you?”

“I’m not too sure…” He tells you, setting down the menu. “I was wanting something crème filled. Something simple… maybe glazed.” He looks into your eyes finally, and you tense slightly.

“Alright.” You point to some words on the menu in front of him. “If you’d like something simple, do you like Boston crème?” You ask.

“Isn’t that something from earth?”

“Yes. Sorry.”

“Sorry? Why apologise?”

“I don’t know I just- sorry…” you chuckle awkwardly. “If you’d prefer an Asgardian delicacy-“

“What would you have? If you were looking for what I’m looking for I mean.”

“I would get the Boston Crème… With the white icing.”

“I’ll try that.”

“Alright, give me one moment.” You tell him, backing away from the counter and checking behind him. He was the last in line, making it possible for you to prepare his bag of food.

You head to the back, spotting your friend again. “Do you have any Boston Crème filled with white icing?”

“Over there, just finished a bunch.” He tells you, nodding towards a counter where there was a heater keeping the fresh batch of donuts warm.

“Thanks dude.” You grab a pair of gloves, only putting the rubber on your right hand to grab his donut and wrap it before stuffing it in a brown bag. “Laufeyson is at the front counter.” You tell him moving to another counter to grab a bag sticker.

“Really? Like Loki?”

“No not like Loki, it is Loki.” You whisper, as if he would hear you from the back.

“Prince Loki Laufeyson is here and he orders a Boston crème with white icing?”

“It was my suggestion.” You grin as he looks back at you, slapping the sticker on the bag before holding it up as if to showcase your work before leaving the back room. You eyes immediately finding the Prince, along with another costumer smiling at your entrance.

“Here you are, Laufeyson. Have a wonderful day.” You hand him the bag, and he nods in thank you.

“You as well, princess.” You watch as he leaves, completely forgetting the costumer at the counter as you stare at him. Yea, it seemed creepy. But Loki Laufeyson just referred to you as princess. Of course you wanted to bask in the moment.

“Y/N honey?” You snap back into reality, and quickly move back to the tablet at the counter. “He’s a wonder to look at, isn’t he?”

“Oh he sure is…” You chuckle, a little crush forming in your chest. “Same as usual Mrs. Lorry?”

Yea. You’re a baker. As a matter of fact, you own the bakery. It was your home away from home.

“Y/N! You’ve spent all day at that dreaded bakery again?” Your fathers voice beams with anger, and you hear his flat shoes tread down the hall. An exhausted sigh leaving your lips as you look to the floor, awaiting his presence as he turns the corner, your eyes meeting his before moving down. A royal robe wrapped around his body, and he reeks of perfume and cologne. You assume he was bathing before hearing of your arrival.

“Hey dad-“

“Look at you!” He sounds horrified as he steps in front of you, signaling at your clothes. “You’re not a baker, you’re a princess!”

“I’m both.”

“No! I cannot tolerate this anymore!”

“Look, is there something important you needed to tell me? Or did you just want to judge my side job?”

“Ugh…” he pinches the bridge of his nose, looking down at the floor, his beard scrunching up as his forearm crunches it. “You have a visitor.” He tells you, looking back up and fixing his robe, making sure it was still secure around his body. You were thankful it was, as well as your eyes.

“Who?”

“I’m not sure, I had the guards make him wait in your room.” He tells you, and you groan internally.

“Why would you-“

“Just go see whom it is. You don’t get many visitors.” He tells you, turning as he walks back to his room, a rushed step as he does, clearly hurried.

“Yea that’s cause you banned anyone from seeing me!” You shout, and the sound of his doors closing was enough to make your eyes roll. Great. You head towards your own room. The door is closed, so you take out your key and stick it in the knob you’ve had the guards install. Yea you got visitors, but some of them weren’t exactly friendly. You reminisce on a few incidents, cringing at some, and shuddering at others.

You push your door open, and your balcony door is open, allowing wind to blow in from the outside as a figure turns to look at you, you gasp a little.

Loki Laufeyson.

“Well I knew you were beautiful, but I didn’t know you were actually a princess.” He tells you, his fingers laced behind his back as he walks towards you, and you flick a light on the wall, moving a little slider on the box to dim the light slightly. Your head throbbing already from a long day, you weren’t prepared for this.

“Prince Laufeyson. You’re in my bedroom.”

“I am aren’t I?” He asks your question, his eyes searching your body.

“Yes, you are.” You tell him, annoyance in your voice as you approach your bed, putting your bag on your bed before opening it, taking out a second bag. A brown paper one from your bakery.

“Little late for a sweet treat isn’t it?”

“Its never too late for something sweet.”

“Is that so?” His voice suddenly changes, and his hand rests on your lower back, causing your voice to break in your throat, almost painfully.

“I guess everyone has a different appetite.” He mumbles, his hands moving to hold your waist from behind. Your eyes squint in confusion. You’ve almost never seen this man, but yet here he was. Touching you.

“Laufeyson?”

“Shh…” His breath fans over your skin, his hands gently gliding over your skin under your little dress. “Do you like to dance?” You nod a little, and he takes your hand. “Let’s find the ballroom then darling.” He leads you out of the room without another word, letting the heavy door close behind your bodies as he drags you through the empty hallways, easily finding the ballroom doors and the lights make your head throb.

“My head hurts, and the light, I-“

“I can fix that.” He stops you from speaking, and he turns you around as soon as you’re both standing in the centre of the grand room. Letting you go as he reaches into his pocket, and the next thing you see is green darkness, a pine coloured blindfold now draped over your eyes, and he reaches behind your head, tying it in a knot.

“There darling, now let’s dance.” He tells you, grabbing your waist and your hand as he begins to sway you.

“But I can’t see-“ You reach up, attempting to remove the blindfold from your eyes, but he stops you.

“You don’t need to see darling, let me lead.” He leans down, whispering in your ear as he begins to dance, making you nervous, but he’s right. You don’t need to see as he leads.

You can feel the smirk he has, leaning down as he presses a kiss to your cheek, his arm pulling you more against his body.

You feel slightly embarrassed, but he keeps you slowly dancing.

“Who knew I’d be dancing with a donut girl…?”

“I don’t understand how you knew I’m a princess?”

“Can’t deny royal beauty.” He tells you plainly, moving his arm to twirl you.

“And why are you here?”

“Your father chose me to marry you. He didn’t tell you?” What…?

You try to remove your blindfold, but his hands stop you again as you stop the dance.

“Loki- I’m not-“

“Quiet darling. It’s alright.” He gently brushes some of your hair out of your face.

Then he kisses your lip, gently biting and pulling before kissing you again, with much more passion.

And you give in.

Letting your lips move against his. Your eyes close uselessly, already covered by the blindfold as his hands move to cup your ass. You feel him walk as he lifts you against his body, making you wrap your legs around his waist, then you feel a wall against your back, his lips never leaving yours as his hands move between your bodies, and the sound of a zipper being pulled down fills your senses. You panic slightly and he feels it, gently cupping your face as his lips leave yours, and find the skin of your neck.

“You’re alright darling…” He whispers, moving you until he was able to hook his fingers through your lace panties, quickly removing them. Leaving you in your only your dress. “Just breathe…”

He pushes into you suddenly, without warning. Emitting a moan from your lips as he starts moving inside of you, your walls tight around his member.

“You’re definitely a princess…” He whispers, a new whimper coming from your throat.

“Loki…” You moan his name as he slowly thrusts into you, your foreheads landing on each other before his head tilts to capture your lips again, his hand moving down, and he presses his thumb onto your clit, rubbing circles around your bud.

“You better never tell me you don’t want this…”

[nicoline1998enilocin]

Birthday Confession

PAIRING | Bucky Barnes x Best Friend!Fem!Reader

WORD COUNT | 2.4K

SUMMARY | Bucky never really cared for his birthday, but he suddenly had a different outlook since you came into his life. As long as he can spend it with you—the sweet, soft-spoken neighbor he secretly harbors a major crush on— and his cat, Alpine, he's happy. However, when everything takes a turn this year, you're both turning it into a birthday he'll never forget.

RATING | Mature (M)

WARNINGS/TAGS | Friends to lovers trope, use of Y/N, alcohol consumption, Natasha and Tony are alive, mutual pining.

A/N | This story is written in honor of Bucky Barnes' birthday, which is the perfect opportunity for me to get into the swing of writing for him again! It's written for Bucky's Birthday Bash—hosted by @buckybarnesevents—and includes the prompts Post Endgame Bucky, Friends to Lovers, Reader, and Dancing. The story is not proofread, any and all mistakes are my own.

EVENTS Masterlist | @buckybarnesevents BABB061: March | 3AM Talks Masterlist | @anyfandomaubingo | Neighbor!Reader Masterlist | @anyfandomfluffbingo | Girl/Boy Next Door Masterlist | @fandombingo | "I don't know how to be in a relationship." / "Good, that makes two of us." Masterlist | @marvel-smash-bingo | Best friends to lovers Masterlist | @sebastianstanbingo | Birthday Gifts

Banners: Yours truly | Divider: @firefly-graphics | Header: Yours truly

Main Masterlist | Bucky Barnes Masterlist

Bucky never particularly cared for his birthday, but that changed when he met you—the sweet, soft-spoken neighbor who moved in next to his apartment almost five years ago. He used to be a recluse, preferring the company of Alpine, his cat, but something about you made him want to open up and let you into his life.

Now that you had melted his heart and broken down the walls he had built, he found himself looking forward to seeing you. He even dared to say he looks forward to celebrating his birthday because he knows that you will make him the type of cupcake he loves.

It's just after dinner, and he finds himself on his couch, Alpine purring on his lap as he pets her and tells her about his evening plans.

"I'm going to the club later, can you believe it? I never would have even considered it a few years ago, but when Y/N asked me, I didn't even think twice about it," he says with a small smile, shaking his head gently at the thought of you asking him to the club a few weeks ago. He could not say no to you, especially with his major crush on you.

Alpine meows when she hears your name because when you and Bucky got to know each other, you have also fallen in love with her. She's the reason you two even met. The day you first moved in, Bucky went to check his mail on a beautiful summer evening, and Alpine escaped before he could stop her.

She wandered carelessly into your apartment with a loud meow, pulling your attention away from the box you were unpacking. A white, fluffy cat with the brightest blue eyes you have ever seen stood in front of you, and right behind her was the most beautiful, albeit broody-looking man you've ever seen.

"Alpine! What do you think you're doing wandering into this lady's apartment?!" he told the cat, and you couldn't help but chuckle as she meowed loudly when he picked her up.

"I'm sorry," he said, and you smiled warmly at him. Deep inside, you were enjoying the stark difference between the dark-haired, broad-shouldered man and the beautiful white cat in his arms, but they seemed to fit together perfectly as if they were made for one another.

"It's okay; I like cats, especially when they bring along men like you!" you said confidently, and Bucky couldn't help but blush deeply after your comment. Before you could introduce yourself, he turned around and quickly returned to his apartment; the mail he was supposed to pick up had been long forgotten. From that moment on, you were the topic of most thoughts.

Over time, Bucky has slowly accepted you into his life, and being with you has brightened some of the darkest moments of his life. After Steve returned to be with Peggy, Bucky struggled a lot. From horrible nightmares to sleepless nights, he has been through everything. But you always seem to bring a bit of lightness wherever you go, including in Bucky's life.

Nowadays, he is generally a lot happier, but it's even more noticeable when you're in his presence; he carries himself with more confidence. Instead of hiding away all the time, he doesn't mind being seen when you're by his side. You gave him back the self-confidence he'd lost all those years ago, and he will always be thankful for that.

Before he can think about all that too hard, though, he hears a knock on the door and tucks Alpine under his arm before he opens it. He can see you standing there through the peephole and quickly swings open the door to let you in.

You're standing in front of him in a tight, knee-length dress, black heels, and lipstick that perfectly matches the color of your dress. The rest of your makeup is light, and your hair is pulled into a bun with braids to complete your outfit. His gaze lowers to the cupcake in your hand, a candle burning.

"Happy birthday, Bucky! Make a wish!" you tell him in a cheerful voice. With a smirk, he leans down to blow out the candle on the cupcake you're holding, though he already knows what he'll wish for. Each year, he wishes for the same thing: that you become his. This year may be the year for it to come true.

"I got you something special for your birthday this year. It's not every day you turn 107 years old, after all," you tell him, and he can't help but laugh. The fact that he's this old has never bothered you, and he's thankful for that.

The first time you ran into him on his birthday and asked how he was, he couldn't help but tell you it was his birthday. He still remembers how your eyes widened at his words and how you showed up later that afternoon with a book you had recently read.

Your shared love for reading is one of many things you two have in common, so you have developed the tradition of buying books for special occasions. The moment he tore the paper away from the first book you ever gifted him, he knew he would love it no matter what because it came from you.

You found an extra special one this year, though, and you've been dying to see his reaction since you acquired it. It is wrapped in shiny, black wrapping paper with a gold ribbon.

With quick movements, he unwraps his present, and an almost pristine first edition of The Hobbit is lying in his hands. It is the same book he read when it first came out and one he never thought he would see again.

"Why don't you open it up?" you urge him, and he does. Inside are the words he never thought he would see again, and he can't help but get choked up at the sight of them.

'Happy Birthday, jerk' is scribbled at the front of the book, and Bucky knows instantly that it's the version Steve has worked hard to buy him. Tears gather in his eyes as his fingers glide over the words, and he feels deeply thankful for this present.

"W-where—How-?" is all he can manage to choke out before you step forward and wrap your arms around him. He melts into your touch as your cheek is pressed against his chest, and soft kisses are placed on your head as his way of saying thank you.

The two of you stay like that for a few minutes until you feel Alpine's soft fur against your bare legs, making you chuckle before releasing him and bending down to give her some love. Not long after, it's finally time to go to the club where you are supposed to meet the other Avengers, and Bucky calls the two of you a cab to take you there, saving you two the hassle of NYC parking.

"Are you ready to go in, Doll?" Bucky asks after helping you out of the cab and paying the driver. You nod as you go into the club, which is still relatively empty. It's still early in the night as you go and find a booth, and the rest of the Avengers will join later. As you slide into it, you look around to observe the room, but your eye eventually falls on Bucky standing at the bar.

He looks back at you with a wink as he orders your drinks, even though he can't get drunk. Despite that, he still enjoys the taste of it, so he usually orders a beer or two. It doesn't take long for him to join you in your booth, sliding in so he's sitting right next to you, and your thighs are almost touching.

"Thank you for inviting me, Doll. These evenings are a lot more bearable now that you're with me," he says, and you give him a smile before taking a sip of your drink.

"I'm glad to hear that because I know they're a lot more bearable for me when you're here," you say, and he blushes under the scruff lining his cheeks. The pink tint has the butterflies in your stomach going wild, but most of the other Avengers are arriving before you can say anything else.

Tony arrives at your table first, closely followed by Natasha, Wanda, Sam, and Clint. The two of you slide out of the booth to greet everyone, and the three men go to sit on one side while you, Natasha, and Wanda sit on the other side. Luckily, you're still seated across from Bucky during all this.

The conversation during the night's first half is light and pleasant, but the more drinks flowing, the looser everyone becomes. Combined with the number of people slowly filling the club, the atmosphere is starting to get much more enjoyable. You're just about to take a sip of your third drink of the evening when Natasha and Wanda practically pull you out of the booth, begging you to dance with them.

"Okay, okay! I'm coming!" you tell them with a broad smile that doesn't go unnoticed by Bucky. Seeing you getting along so well with his friends fills him with happiness, and no one can wipe off the smile adorning his face. He also knows that if Steve were here with all of you, he would have loved you, too.

The entire time you're on the dancefloor, Bucky's eyes are glued to you. From the way your hips move effortlessly to the excitement on your face, and from the way the sweat drips down your neck and into the valley of your breasts to the way your dress seems to ride up just enough to show a bit more skin, he notices it all.

"Why don't you go over there and dance with her? It's almost creepy when you're staring at her, man!" Sam says with a push against his metal arm.

"I'm pretty sure she's doing just fine with Nat and Wanda over there," he says, looking at Sam grumpily. However, you seem to have gotten the same idea as you return to the booth.

"Dance with me, Bucky! C'mon!" you say, and of course, the man cannot say no to you. Bucky shoots Sam a dirty look before turning to you, sliding out of the booth, and taking your hand. The music has a nice thumping bass, and Bucky allows himself to get lost in it and in the moves your body makes.

While you were dancing side by side at first, it eventually migrated to the point where you're grinding against him, his bulge pressing against your ass while his fingers are digging into your hips. The tension between you two has been building for a long time, and relieving some of it right now feels good.

After dancing like this for a while, you turn to face Bucky, and he can see the way you're enjoying yourself. From the flush on your cheeks to the smile adorning your face, you're looking perfect, and Bucky has to stop himself from kissing you right now. It's not that he doesn't want to do it, but if he goes down that path with you, he wants to do it right.

"Shall we go outside for a moment?" you ask him, and he nods. You lead him out, the cool air feeling pleasant against your skin.

"Are you enjoying yourself tonight, Doll?" he asks you, though he already knows the answer. Clearly, you're enjoying yourself, but he still wants to hear you say it.

"I am, but there's a reason I asked you out here. Away from everyone else's ears," you tell him, his curiosity piqued. He raises a brow as he looks at you, your lip pulled between your teeth as you muster up the courage to finally tell him what's on your mind. You've gotten this far, so now you have to pull through.

"The past few years with you have been amazing, Bucky, but I have noticed that something... changed," you say after a short moment. As soon as those words leave your mouth, Bucky's brows furrow, but you're quick to ease the thoughts in his head.

"I mean to say I'm in love with you, Bucky. I'm not sure when or how it happened, but it has. I understand if you don't feel the same about me, but I've been thinking about this for almost a year now-" is all you get to say before he pulls you against his chest as he dips down to capture your lips with his.

It's a soft, sweet kiss that has you melting into his touch, and neither of you wants it to end. When the need for air eventually takes over your brain, you hesitantly pull away, though your foreheads are still connected as you gaze into Bucky's bright blue eyes.

"I'm in love with you too, Doll, but I have another confession. I don't know how to be in a relationship," he says softly, and you smile at his confession.

"Good, that makes two of us. But if you want to, I want to figure it out together. Something about being with you feels right, and I want to explore it with you if you're open to it," you say, and he nods.

"I'd love nothing more, Doll," he says before he leans down and kisses you again, your head tilting slightly to the side as he does. All four other Avengers are whooping in excitement as the two of you kiss, but you don't care. All you can think about is Bucky and how his lips feel on yours.

"Finally, it took you guys long enough!" Tony says before everyone congratulates the two of you. Before you go back inside, Bucky grabs his phone from his pocket, and when he notices the time, he can't help but smile.

"Y'know what, Doll, out of all the 3 AM talks we've shared over the years, this is my favorite," he says as he shows you the time. You have stayed up with him during his nightmares or sleepless nights countless times, but you cannot agree more. This one is definitely your favorite.

"Happy birthday, Bucky," you tell him before pulling him in for a last kiss. Afterward, you go back inside, and all of you dance until the sun rises again, and it's time to go home. Bucky may have celebrated many birthdays in his life, but not a single one will ever top this one. There's no greater gift than hearing you confess your love for him, after all.

[pearlywritings]

Even scarred one is loved

synopsis: snippets about your partner or you having scars

pairing: Albedo, Ayato, Diluc, Kaeya, Kaveh, Tighnari, Zhongli x reader (separately)

tw: fluff, hurt/comfort, lighning scars, in Albedo’s part Rhinedottir used to be reader’s mentor, dragon features in Zhongli’s, in some parts scars are on the character, in some on reader

word count: 4k+ words in total

a/n: has been lying in my drafts since that summer event with Diluc and Kaeya's letters...

Albedo

The Chief Alchemist’s skin is a porcelain perfection. Milky white, smooth, spotless, flawless. The man can easily be mistaken for a marble statue and put on display in a museum - showing the chilling beauty of his visage. That’s what the body of a homunculus is - impeccability, when even the biggest and deepest of wounds disappear with time, no traces left behind.

You, on the other hand, are anything but. Sure, you are pretty, but the canvas of your body carries a hideous scar, a curse you got as a reminder of getting too close to what had to have stayed unknown. You should blame your mentor, really - if not for Rhinedottir’s deeds, you would’ve lived and died as a normal human.

…or would've become a monster, like everyone else. But here you are, in clear consciousness, with memories, so, you guess, the Gold saving you actually kind of pays off everything else she did.

Doesn’t mean you are proud of it. What it means is a lot of explanation to do if someone sees, and you prefer not to be bothered and reminded of the devastating events of the past, so you try to avoid neck and chest revealing clothes like a plague, no matter how many times Lisa pesters you about it.

When Albedo asks to draw you naked, you are, for the first time in centuries, shocked. Sure, you worked out your relationship, discussed and tried some intimacy, but the notion of having your skin exposed for long, of his eyes lingering on it for minutes, or hours even… It makes you nervous. Under the clothes you wear - a big, tree-like scar reaches its branches to your neck, spreading its trunk all over your chest. Your mentor, a true scientist to her guts, found you in a grave state and decided that it was better to curse the heart, before anything could happen to the brain.

The man’s fingers are gentle, when he pops the buttons of your shirt open and carefully slides the fabric down your shoulders. The dark night on your skin reflects in his cerulean eyes and something sparks in their depths. You should not, but you feel embarrassed and silently bite your lip, when he leans forward to press his cold lips to your collarbone.

“You are so beautiful…” he whispers and your heart - the one you believed was hardened forever before you met your lover - leaps in your chest. “Allow me to show what I see, [...]”

A word of endearment caresses your ear in the sounds of your native language, and at that moment you understand - Rhinedottir succeeded indeed. She did create a humanoid form of life, but it became capable of feeling and understanding feelings like a real human would. It can’t be any other way, not when he is looking at you like this, not when he is leading you to a sofa and makes you feel comfortable, not when his touch against your cheek is reassuring and attempts to chase your worries away, not when he picks a sketchbook, where you know the only pictures existing are of you.

Not when he draws the reminder of your doom like it's indeed the fraction of a starry sky painting your skin.

Ayato

Ever since you saw a long ugly scar across his back, it has been making you restless. The discovery happened when your lover invited you to attend the hot springs with him. It was a new step in your relationship, on the very border of entering its intimate part, and you were excited to accept his offer and remained elated for days before and on the day of. That is until his back was bared to you at some point and you saw it.

Ayato didn’t say anything about it, relaxing in the hot water and busying both of you with a conversation and savoring the finest tea and some sweets (which kept you slightly guarded, until the head of the Kamisato clan didn’t tell you these weren’t cooked by him). With all of that, you had no opportunity to ask him, not that you felt like you could - you are close and in a relationship, but who knows how willing he is to talk about it?

It’s been a week since then, and the sight of the scar occasionally appeared before your eyes. You must’ve gotten quieter and brooding, because Ayaka comments on it, when you pay her company in Inazuma City to do some shopping.

“Y/n, is something worrying you?” You look up from examining embroidered silk and tilt your head in question.

“Why would you think so?”

“Well… I noticed how your thoughts seem to stray away and I wondered if everything is okay. Maybe I can help?”

You hum. Ayaka is his sister and you grew to be good friends. It wouldn’t hurt asking her, right? Surely she must know something about that. And if she doesn’t? What if she knows nothing about the scar, about her brother having been hurt in the past? Ayato cares for her and would like to not expose her to things like that, even if she is a grown up woman and a skillful sword user. You need to be careful.

“Say, Ayaka…” you start, cautiously choosing your words. “Does your brother have a…tattoo on his back?”

“A tattoo?” She looks at you confused. “No he doesn’t, our clan doesn’t have a tradition like that. And I don’t think it’ll fit with the scar.”

Oh, so she does know.

“The scar?”

“Yes, the scar. You know the Kamisato clan had many enemies, and still does, but in the past it was so much worse. There were multiple attempts to,” she pauses, as if searching for the right words, “remove him from the picture… One of them nearly succeeded.”

“Is that so…” Ayaka nods and, hiding her saddened gaze, returns to looking at the fabric, thereby drawing the brief explanation to an end. Suddenly a strong urge to return the Estate fills your heart. To talk. To listen. To offer comfort and caresses if he desires so.

But as Ayaka drags you to the next store on your list, you think that you'll wait. Until he decides he wants to tell you the whole story, until he knows that he can trust you with his life.

Diluc

The room is silent. It is the dead of the night, and even so at least three people are not sleeping at this ungodly hour. You give Adelinde a grateful set of eyes, when she returns to you and your husband's bedroom with a bowl of clean water and several towels, placing all of that on the table near the armchair you've been standing close to.

"Are you sure you don't need my assistance?" She asks you quietly, glancing between you and the half-undressed man slumped on the piece of furniture. This woman is a real treasure, you think. It is true that this is her job, but she's always been doing far more than her responsibilities require. And that’s exactly why you are not going to deprive her from her sleep any longer.

"No, Adelinde, it's fine, I got this. Please, return to your room and have some sleep."

The head maid gives you a nod and then a small bow.

"As you wish. But if you need me, please, don't hesitate to wake me up."

"I hope it won't come to this. Good night and thank you again."

"May this night be kind to you."

And so she is out. With a sigh you glance at the man who remained quiet during the whole ordeal. Diluc knows he is in big trouble. He promised you to be careful, heck, he promised you to cut off his nightly outings, and here he is, exhausted and arm bleeding. He expects you to scold him or to whisper-yell at him, anything that would indicate you are angry with him, but you do none of these things. Instead you grab one of the towels, wet it and start wiping the blood off.

As you do so, you can't help but let your eyes wander all over the skin of his bared upper body. 

Scars.

So many many scars. Big, small, wide and thin, old and fresh… Each told a story and you knew a handful. Yet this time you asked for none, busying yourself with cleaning his wound to treat and bandage it.

"Diluc," his name finally leaves your lips and fiery eyes snap open - he nearly drowsed off.

"Yes?" A croaked sound he is almost embarrassed of.

"Thank you for returning alive."

You do not care that this raid has probably given him a new future scar - all you care is that he came back, that he made it out despite everything.

"But I'd really like you to stop pushing yourself this much. I am grateful you've already lessened your workload and dedicated more of your free time to me, though I want you to become dedicated to yourself too. You do tend to forget about it."

The redhead's heart clenches. He knows he cannot promise you to stop completely, but he can try and get less injured whenever he is out fighting.

After all, there are too many scars already to add new ones to the collection.

Kaeya

Fluttering of crystal fly wings. These little beautiful creatures can be found whenever in Teyvat but the first time the Alberich boy encountered them was in the vineyard of the Dawn Winery. Gleaming in both sun and moon light they felt like little sparks, slowly floating in the air, looking too tempting not to chase after them. And he used to chase after those a lot, smiling and laughing and looking at the bright world like any happy child would.

Your butterfly kisses remind him of crystal flies, caressing his face with a subtle tremble of their wings as they try to fly away. The memories of the past overtake him, making the man feel warm and cozy, as if it's not a candle lit on the bedside drawer of your bedroom, but a tender sun, licking his cheek with its affectionate rays.

Until summer heat is replaced by the blazing fire in his memory and the surging pain in his right eye. The eye you've been delicately touching with your soft lips for the past several minutes. The eyepatch is lying on the sheets near his right hip, right where you put it, after taking it off with your deft fingers. Fingers that delicately cradle his face in their loving hold, not letting him shy away from you, letting you kiss an old scar.

No words are exchanged as you sit in his lap with his palms resting on your sides, digits creasing the material of your nightwear. Kaeya is nervous. You've come to him without any explanation, and before he could climb into your shared bed and hold a blanket up for you to join him, asked to shed the shirt he's always worn to sleep. The man knew what you wanted to see - not the many scars littering his body (they weren't all that surprising to you), but the traces of burns on his back, the ones he hid from you for the longest time, not ready to tell the story, afraid to face the past. He didn't blame the one who gave him those, he could never truly, however the day he got them scarred him much deeper than skin.

Yet he did as you asked, slowly, with stiff fingers, but eventually the fabric was no longer covering his body.

You didn't ask him any questions, you didn't even say a word, as you took his hand and softly spinned him around to face his back. Your kisses could do nothing to the damaged skin, they were long healed naturally, but his inner turmoil of emotions was soothed by your display of affection.

More relaxed and less anxious he didn't protest when you made him sit on the edge of the bed and climbed into his lap. Maybe he did tense a little when you reached behind to untie the string attached to his eyepatch, maybe his fingers grabbed at your clothes a little bit too roughly, but he didn't stop you, until the little piece was off and away from his face and your lips replaced it.

He knows he doesn't deserve you, but Celestia be damned - he doesn't want to ever let you go. The only one he entrusted his heart like this, allowed you to unwrap the carefully built facade and reach to what is real about the man Kaeya Alberich is. And knowing you love him with all these ugly scars littering his skin? Makes him believe you'll still love him after seeing how scarred his heart is.

Kaveh

“Say, would you like to go shopping for our next date?”

The question takes you by surprise as you exit the bathroom of your bedroom you’ve been sharing with the blond architect ever since your relationship got more serious and you offered him to move in with you. The gorgeous man is standing in front of your full-length mirror, his back to you, undoing the numerous clips that keep his hair out of his face daily. The crimson of his eyes flashes, as he meets your stunned gaze in the reflection.

“Why so sudden?” You ask - nervously, he notes, fidgeting with the material of your night clothes.

“I noticed how you always wear overly closed clothes. I thought we could look for something more revealing?”

The way you shudder doesn’t go unnoticed by him, confusion now etched in his facial expression.

“What’s wrong, my flower?” You sigh, lips drawn in a line. He uses such a delicate word to address, but you are anything but.

“Does it bother you? The way I dress, I mean.”

“Hm? No, of course not,” Kaveh shakes his head, turning to face you. “You look pretty in whatever you wear. But you must be uncomfortable, walking around wearing so many layers when it’s scorching outside. Just the other day you were so dazed, I was afraid you’d pass out before we reached home.”

Even now he can’t help but question the rather covering night clothes, especially compared to his bared upper body. He was sure to discuss it before you started sharing the bed, and you never showed discomfort about it, but somehow always avoided the topic of your own choice of night wear.

As he is pondering over the topic in his head again, you chew on your bottom lip. It was foolish of you to think he’d never notice your strange behavior in regard to how you dress, or rather started dressing after getting together with him.

But it’d be unfair to keep your lover in the dark, after he was so open to you, right?

“Hey, lovebird?” Kaveh snaps out of his thoughts, when you call him, settling on the edge of the mattress and patting the place by your side. The blonde immediately joins you, eagerly accepting your hands sliding into his, giving them a reassuring squeeze.

“Does anything bother you?” He beats you to it, making you sigh again, feeling how your heart is wildly thumping against your ribcage.

“Promise you won’t feel differently about me?”

“Never,” the firmness and the speed with which he confirms your statement brings some comfort to your worrying self, giving you strength to proceed.

“You know I used to work closely with matras, yeah?” He nods. “This job isn’t particularly harmless, so I, um,” gulping you search for any indication of - you don’t even know what - in his eyes. Whatever it might be, there is none, only softness hidden behind the ruby gems, pouring in gentle waves, caressing your being, making your heart flutter, and words abruptly leave your mouth.

“I have scars.”

“And?” Your eyes widen, when he cocks his head to the side, looking at you with a clear lack of understanding.

“‘And?’!? Kaveh, come on!” You groan, looking to the side. “I mean look at you! You are absolutely gorgeous, and I know how much you appreciate fine things, which I am not…”

“Is this the reason why you’ve been dressing like this and changing in the bathroom all this time?”

“...yeah…”

“Oh, darling,” a warm smile brightens up his face and he leans forward, kissing your cheek. “First of all, you are not a ‘thing’. Secondly, I am such a fool for not noticing sooner. I assure you, you are already so amazing and I can’t imagine some scars scaring me off. Truth be told, I fell in love that moment I saw you handling that lying bastard to the ground.”

“You mean that day you looked at me with literal hearts in your eyes, scrolls tightly held to your chest and mouth open?” He immediately grows bashful, but the smile gets bigger - you are teasing him, that’s a good sign.

“Yeah, yeah, that. What I am trying to say is that in my eyes you are already wonderful. We can take it slow, but would you trust me and show them one day?”

The way you lean into him burying your face in his neck tells him everything, and yet the blonde is delighted to hear your quiet answer.

“Of course.”

Tighnari

Tighnari curls his tail around your hip tighter when another clap of thunder disturbs the night. His ear twitches, sensitive to the sound which easily shakes him out of sleep, eyes immediately trained on the window to make sure it’s closed.

When a flash of light rips through the dark clouds that overtook the sky, the man’s pupils narrow in slits out of pure instincts, and he makes a sound of discontent, drawing your body closer to his. Which, as he quickly realizes, wasn't the brightest idea, as you start squirming and groaning. Tighnari curses under his breath, when you yawn and attempt to stretch in his hold, eyelids slowly sliding up, revealing your precious orbs he loves so much, to the curl of his toes.

You owlishly blink, directing your gaze to your lover’s face, then blinking again, trying to get rid of the veil of sleep and make out his features in the dark.

“‘nari…” you rasp, reaching to his cheek, tenderly touching it with just the fingertips. “Why are you still awake, dear?”

The fennec man opens his mouth to give you some excuse, to lure you back to the dreamland, but another burst of electric light and the loud rumble accompanying it cuts him off, forcing his body to stiffen. You crane your neck to look behind you. The understanding quickly dawns on you and, humming, your body moves.

Tighnari’s eyes slightly widen in panic when you sit up, leaving the lock of his arms, letting only his tail rest on your thighs. But even it soon ends up on the mattress when you stand up and wobble to the window. A soft rattle of closing curtains for a moment blocks another clap of thunder, and you returning to his side not a few seconds later soothes his nerves.

“Still hits badly?” You ask softly, reaching for his hand and sliding your fingers between his. He can only nod, dropping his forehead to your shoulder and squeezing his digits around yours.

“I know it’s hard,” you press a sweet kiss to the top of his head, right between his droopy ears, “but I also know you’ll overcome it. And I will be with you all the way.”

“How did you manage?” He finally speaks for the first time through the night and he sounds so tired.

“You mean this?” Even in the darkness he sees how you tug on the hem of your shirt, revealing multiple scars, akin to the tree limbs, tracing the path the electricity took as it traveled through you. That electro-wielding scam really got you in the past, Tighnari knows it took a lot of time for you to recover - both physically and mentally. He was there to see it, as you were sent to the Gandharva Ville for rehabilitation, way before you two started dating.

He nods again, curling his tail around your figure once more.

“Well,” you glance at his shoulder, where under his own shirt, the similar scar is hidden, one that has an even ghastlier story behind it, “truth be spoken? Under your care and with your guidance. You were the one to drag me out of depression and fear, and I am ready to do the same to you.”

The man hugs you tighter, tucking your head under his chin and sighing shakily. He knows eventually the scar will just be a scar, something to match with you and have a story to tell to the stupid rangers and passersby of Avidya Forest for the sake of caution… It’s your willingness that counts though, filling his heart with warmth and making him forget of things surrounding him.

Tonight, despite the foul weather outside, he will be able to sleep. With you by his side.

Zhongli

The life among mortals was peaceful and fulfilling, and the retired Archon enjoys to fullest everything it has to offer. But sometimes he can’t help himself, leaving the house in the city he shares with you, his spouse of many centuries, if not thousands of years. He takes a long stroll to the land of the adepti, where he is always welcome to stay and reside, unbothered if he desires so.

In the mountains, on peaks hidden behind the clouds, the stoic man can allow his control over this mortal form slip, revealing horns, adorned with gold, long tail of earthly color and long fluffy trail of autumn-colored fur on the tip of it, eyes, more reptilian than human like, shining like finest cor lapis, and scales covering some of his skin.

Often you find him on one of the mountain tops, basking in the sunlight and squinting like a content cat would do. Your lover prefers to shed some of his clothes, baring his skin and scales to warm rays, making them shine beautifully - both because it makes him happy and because he knows you can join him, thus the dragon does want to show off to you.

This time you sense him on Mt. Hulao and upon arriving there spot the half-dragon Prime adeptus resting near the lake, having abandoned his long robe (he does change his attire whenever he is out of the city) and resting on his side. Quietly walking closer you see how the tip of his tail lazily grazes the surface of a cool lake nearby and smile. The next moment the water splashes just barely miss you as you jump to the side when the very same tail whips into your direction.

“My love, I see you are playful today,” your husband grins contently, not opening his eyes but retrieving his tail so you could finally come closer and sit with him.

“I am sorry, the gem of my heart. Simply couldn’t help myself,” your presence is welcomed and the gentle touch of your hand against the side of his neck sends pleasant shivers down his spine.

A comfortable silence falls between you two. Zhongli relishes in your loving caresses, while you make sure to glide the tips of your fingers everywhere you spot the scales of who he really is.

In his human body, Zhongli’s skin is flawless. It doesn’t bear any reminder of hardships and war times, when he fought, injured and got his own wounds, but his other self does. You remember the last time you saw him in his full beast glory - while beautiful and shiny, his scaled body was scarred. Like this, in his adeptus form you could witness some of the scars as well, each reminded you of this or that ghastly cut delivered by his enemies and with time healing into nothing but long lines of imperfection. Yet you do not hate them, nor does your husband. They simply tell the stories of the past, and make you both remember that despite any obstacle or danger he faced, he always made it out in the end.

[writersblockedx]

Bachelors

Pairing - JJ Maybank x Fem!Reader Summary - Y/n is the kook JJ has been effortlessly in love with for years now. Only problem being: she didn't date pogues. Warnings - good bit of angst, alcohol use, implications of sex Words - 2.2K

Masterlist

JJ should have been used to it by now. The flashy dresses which hugged her figure like a glove; the way her eyelids would flutter at the sight of any half-decent man; the smile she wore which was ever so slick and sinister. JJ also should have known that any kook with no originality or personality (pretty much all of them) would have brought Y/n here, to the restaurant he worked at.

Some would call it a coincidence that JJ happened to be on shift that night, but the boy himself believed this was God looking to taunt him. Her giggles erupted through the rest of the candle-lit room. Kook couples and families all intertwined, forkfuls of food and a demand for the waiter's attention. Yet the only attention that JJ cared for was Y/n's - and she was giving  her all to the mediocre first date.

"And you know, the Grady White, it's a good boat, but it has nothing on the original." JJ overheard Y/n's date explain. He was some level-headed kook whose personality consisted of the white polo shirt he was currently wearing and boats apparently.

He slowed by their table, struggling to keep any sort of eye contact that wasn't a burning glare. "Can I get you guys anything else?" He questioned. "The bill?" Please say yes, JJ pleaded within his head. Whenever she didn't get another drink after the third course, the date had been a futile one.

But she flashed a smile and flicked her hair around as to face the blond, "Just another wine please." And like that, any hope faded from his pupils. He nodded, gave her date a stare before turning and rushing back to the kitchen.

She'd had two drinks after the third course. JJ knew what that meant: she was taking him home. He had talked to the girl enough as well as watched enough of these dates play out, and he was well aware of her tells. JJ knew when Y/n was interested in actually getting to know the date, when she definitely wasn't and when, like now, she was only interested in taking him home. And no matter how hard he tried, preyed and attempted to slither his way in, JJ was never one of her bachelors.

He was lucky to grab her before she slipped from the restaurant. His hand gently tugging at her arm, prompting her focus on him. "Hey," His voice was breathy, a whisper against the air between them. "You really going home with this idiot?" His head nodded to the door where, passed such, her date was awaiting their taxi.

A laugh escaped her lips, "What? You gonna stop me?" There emerged that smile, that sickening, sweet smile JJ was captivated by.

His hand never left from her arm. It lingered. "I just- he doesn't know what he's talking about." The blond had huffed. "That stuff about boats. I mean that's- it's obscene, you know that, Y/n."

"JJ, I'm not gonna reject him over his preference in boats." Her chuckle steadied as she suddenly became eager to join the man.

But the pogue tilted his head, never daring to let his touch leave her. "Maybe you should." His tone was serious. Only to be broken by the grin which was hanging at Y/n's lips.

"I'll see you later." And like that, she turned, taking steps away from him as his finger tips fell from her forearm.

As he had done a hundred times before, JJ watched the girl leave. He should have been collecting the bill of the other table, but he chose it better to loom for a moment, right until her shadow exited the restaurant completely and he was left wondering if Y/n would ever turn to a pogue and take them on a similar date.

By the next morning, there came no surprise to JJ when the girl wondered in. No longer dressed in her silky, expensive material but rather denim shorts and a t-shirt. The sort of thing she'd never wear to a date. The sort of thing she only wore around her friends, people like JJ for instance who was setting up for their lunch time rush.

"Later than I expected." He called as she drew closer to the boy. He had napkins shoved in both hands, rushing as he placed them down on the different tables.

There still lingered that smile at Y/n's lips. But her nightly experience had urged the enthusiasm to fade. "The guy wouldn't leave till he got my number." She informed, tailing behind him as she did many mornings after dates. "Had to give him a fake one." There came no reply from JJ and Y/n swore she had never seen someone so focused on napkins. "Here, let me-"

Her hands were reaching out to a grasp them, to help her friend, but her offer had been snatched away. JJ turned, a sour look dwindling in his pupils. "I've got it." He huffed before continuing on. "You ever think that maybe this isn't working for you?" He questioned, eyes centred on the tables he was decorating.

Y/n's brow raised, "What do you mean?"

"The dates." Said JJ, finally glancing to meet her dull expression. There came no smile anymore, just a reflection of apathy. "None of them seem to be turning into anything."

She thought on it for a moment but found herself shrugging, "Hm, I guess." JJ paused too as to face the girl. "But I've got the best system going. Possible bachelor walks in and I've already got JJ Maybank as my wingman for the night." She giggled at her words - something JJ hadn't accompanied her with.

"You ever think about dating someone who you've actually had more than one conversation with." He suggested, treading lightly into these uncharted waters.

"And where's the fun in that?" There laid a cheeky glint in her eye that JJ attempted (and failed) to ignore as he shook his head, walking back towards the front of house.

"I wouldn't have to listen to you complaining every week for one." He noted.

Absant-mindedly, Y/n swung an arm around JJ's shoulder. It was in that moment that the boy truly couldn't ignore the glint which settled in her gaze. "But I tip you so much." She argued.

His head tilted, "You mean you get your 'bachelors-" He added the air quotation marks to such, "to pay."

Y/n hummed, "Same difference."

"I honestly don't know why I help you." JJ uttered.

The girl leaned closer to him, "Because you love me." A paused followed before she continued, "And if you didn't, then who would I pretend is my toxic ex-boyfriend whenever a guy starts giving my the creeps."

Her arms slipped from him and she watched this expression mould carefully. All this time Y/n had been bombing on about dates, this and that, she had yet to come to note the sorrow look which was drowning JJ. The glimpse of such had made the smile dissipate from Y/n herself. "I can't do this forever, Y/n." The blond admitted.

"What do you mean?" Her words came with a chuckle as to try and lighten the suddenly thick atmosphere; it hadn't worked.

"I mean, my job isn't to play pretend boyfriend for you, or listen to how terrible or fantastic your date is going." He was seething and Y/n had never seen JJ so agitated. "My job is to wait tables, to clear plates and clean tables. I guess as a kook you don't understand that."

She shifted, a part of her aching just knowing this was how JJ felt, "JJ, I'm sorry, I didn't realise-"

"Of course you didn't." He interjected before giving her the chance to continue with his words. "All you talk to me about is this guy and that one. You know now I think on it, I can't remember the last time you actually gave a shit about what was going on in my life. I shouldn't even be surprised. You're a kook, what's it matter to you the shit that's going on in my pathetic pogue life."

The boy was about to turn, barely having it in him to look at that down-hearted expression the girl wore. But, before he was able to do so, Y/n reached out, her hand cupping his. "I'm sorry that maybe I'm bad at showing it, but I care so much for you JJ." He knew he was weak against her soft gaze. "I really do."

But as his gaze flickered between her and her hands, he couldn't bare it anymore. "Yeah, well maybe it's not that you're bad at showing it, maybe you just don't at all." And like that, he snatched his palm away, turned his back and rushed off so Y/n couldn't follow him.

She stood in the loneliness of the restaurant with thoughts flooding. Never had she stood in the spot she was now without someone at her side. Suddenly, Y/n came to realise how daunting that empty space was. It taunted her and she wanted nothing but than for JJ to return. But it seemed that, without even realising it, she had just drove the boy away.

It lasted a week. Y/n tossed and turned rather than sleeping. Her mind was a wandering mess and she couldn't even fill such with the futile dates she would usually arrange. So, rather, she had no choice but to fumble around her thoughts. Her mind went over and over the words JJ had spat at her that day. And she wondered if she would ever be able to make it up to him.

With JJ's words in mind, she strung together a plan. She contacted the restaurant, making sure he wasn't working that Saturday night and once such was confirmed, she organised the rest of her plan. As was her usual, Y/n was in her silky dresses, her hair perfected and her smile not daring to faulter. The only difference being that this night in particular, she wasn't waiting outside some kook house, or waiting for some flashy sports car to show up. Instead, she was in the cut, wandering up to JJ Maybanks looking like she didn't belong.

Her knuckles gripped the flowers in her hand as she huffed, climbing up to JJ's porch. With her free hand, she knocked against it, waiting patiently as heavy footsteps followed. The door swung open so abruptly it had almost made the girl jump. "Well, hello there, pretty lady." Sung Luke.

Y/n had only met JJ's dad a couple of times. Though, he was usually drunk or high when that had happened. But she'd heard stories. Some from JJ, some from other people on the island. Criminal, scum, dirty pogue. He lived up to the stories. "Erm, sorry, is JJ in?" She questioned, hoping she could keep conversation with Luke to a minimum.

He gave her the once over before his head turned back, "JJ! There's some rich lady at the door for you!" He yelled, loitering at the door before their came rumbles of sound from another part of the house.

"What? Dad I told you to send sales people away-" His words were aimless until he came from his room, his eyes settling on the girl who was standing in the doorway. "Y/n." He spoke her name like a breath of fresh air.

She offered a smile, "Hi."

JJ gave his dad a glance before taking his place, Luke wandering further into the house. "What are you doing here?" He inquired, staring between her dress, the flowers and her features.

"Showing you I care." She passed over the flowers and he took them with knitted brows.

"You bought be flowers?"

The girl could only shrug, "And there's a table booked at 7."

The boy wanted to be mad, but he couldn't. Not with the way she was looking at him. "What? Am I meant to be your date for the night?" There was humour in his tone.

"You'd have to forgive for that." She tested the waters with her words.

And when he took a step out onto the porch, she knew she had won against the odds. "And I here I was thinking you didn't date pogues." He said, coming to her side, offering his arm.

Y/n linked it with her own, "Only you." Her eyes glistened at him. Not like they did with the kooks she walked at the side of. Tonight, they were glistening in relief that the one boy she truly cared for finally saw such.

They hadn't even made it to the car when JJ had leaned over, brow raised, "You are gonna pay for it right?" A giggle escaped her lips. But she certainly owed it him.

[womendeservehumanity]

Black women: we need to uplift our black kings! We love you black man ❤️ other men cannot compete where they don’t compare

Black men:

All this because she had tweets expressing attraction to white men. And I kid you not this happens every time. There is this entire side of black male twitter who spend copious hours searching for tweets of black women saying they love black men, saying they need to be uplifted/praised/protected, and just generally positive tweets black women make about black men and then search said woman’s account for any remnants of her liking white dudes. Even if it was in 2012 saying Zac Efron is cute.

Mind you these are the same men that constantly complain about how bitter and jealous black women are over the bmwf pairing. How they mate guard and “cock watch” black men and yet they expect the women that they hate, that they call undesirable, masculine, etc. to only be attracted to and interested in them. And if not she’s a race traitor whore who is obviously pandering to black men and truly wants white men. They have the most insane victim complex where actually it’s black men that are the second choice by black women and black men are the race loyal ones (LOL)

Meanwhile they absolutely loooove when white women (and really just non black women in general) like black men esp when they prefer them over their own race of men. Those women aren’t all types of disloyal whores for preferring another race of man yet bw are. And they love calling non black men (esp white men) who hate seeing their race of women with black men insecure cucks. It’s such an ego boost for them. Yet really they’re one and the same. Misogynistic and entitled. Like they were mad at that one dude for reacting to her post positively and calling him a cuck and he needs to stop reciprocating bw’s “fake love” yet they’re constantly talking about how insane those white men who are obsessed with white women liking black men are.

Anyways, it’s kinda crazy how this is like…. Collective and blatant mental illness on display. I mean one reply is literally a video of a black woman being fucking murdered. These men have entire camera rolls full of black women being murdered and then in abusive porn. To have this much hatred in your heart. To let it consume you to the point where you spend so much of your time doing shit like this is beyond me.

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

reading update: july 2024

full disclosure: I started out July in a bit of a mental lurch, really feeling stuck in a rut. there are a lot of reasons for that, absolutely none of which need to be shared with the general populace of tumblr dot com, but suffice to say that I was feeling listless and reading was not a high priority. I was pretty content to accept that this was going to be another month where I didn't finish a lot of books. I was too busy for most of June, and now too unfocused and bummed out in July.

and then that ended up not being the case. I think I can chalk that up to three things:

very early in the month I realized that none of the reading I had been planning on getting to was grabbing my interest at all, so I did something drastically different: picked up a YA memoir that I bought at pride on the recommendation of a bookseller. not my usual kind of reading at all, but YA is very readable and memoirs grab me fast because I'm nosy, so I figured it might be great for getting out of a rut. and boy, was I right!

Akwaeke Emezi also has a new novel out, and if you don't know then please note now that I'm a person second and an Akwaeke Emezi fan first. their newest novel was a sinister joyride, non-stop twists and turns that I couldn't put down until I saw the characters through to their bitter ends.

and, of course, over in the Dungeon Meshi manga I got to Mithrun. I've only had Mithrun for a couple of chapters, but if anything happened to him I'd kill everyone in this dungeon and then myself. even if I hadn't been able to read anything else, that would have kept me running back to the library for more Dungeon Meshi.

all of which added up to a fairly voracious appetite for books being reignited in my brain, and my second most book-heavy month of the year so far (still haven't beat May, but there's time). sick!

so - what have I been reading?

Delicious in Dungeon Vol. 7-10 (Ryoko Kui, trans. Taylor Engel, 2019-2022) - mannnnn I know I'm not saying anything that hasn't been said elsewhere, but Dungeon Meshi is so. fucking good. the way that Kui starts to raise the stakes of the story and grow the world beyond the core band of adventurers is so conscientious and well-done, timed perfectly so it never feels like having an undercooked heap of fantasy exposition thrown at you all at once. instead everything proceeds at a perfect simmer, leaving me feeling like the frog in that pot of boiling water who didn't notice how dire things had gotten until it was very suddenly too late and I was screaming bloody murder at a book. things have gotten so dire that I'm yearning for the days when fighting a red dragon was our biggest problem - and yet, through it all, every character remains rendered with humanity and compassion, no matter how scary, dangerous, or outright alien they first appear. I'm not naming any spoilers, but I need [REDACTED] to fix shit ASAP in Vol. 11 and [SUPER REDACTED] is on my shitlist fucking forever. also Mithrun sweetie you're perfect, do as many crimes as you want.

Heart and Hand (Rebel Carter, 2019) - my romance novel of the month, as picked by my lovely patreonites! this self-published historical romance promised some messy f/m/m, following a biracial (half Black, half white) young lady, Julie Baptiste, as she responds to a marriage ad that takes her out west to the fictional town of Gold Sky, Montana. Julie's sort of a standard historical heroine - she doesn't care for the silliness of high society and vastly prefers the company of books, looking forward to becoming Gold Sky's schoolteacher - but her marriage has a twist: rather than marrying one man, she's agreed to marry two, a pair of friends who have been inseparable since they served together in the Civil War. this book is charming, for sure, but I can't help be more intrigued by what isn't there than what is, namely: are these men having sex with each other or not? Rebel? hey, Rebel? why is there no DP in this two husbands mail order bride book? that was, like, he bare minimum that I expected. for the love of god, why did those men never put both of their dicks inside Julie at the same time? why did we spend so much time on emotional conflict that could be easily resolved if anyone just talked to each other when Julie's two beautiful husbands could have been having sex in front of her? HELLO?

also, listen, this is such a nitpick, but I am FROM Montana and it feels personal: I know that the general poverty of frontier life isn't sexy, but god these people are WAY too well off. at one point Julie enjoys some fucking BANANAS, something that I goddamn assure you were not easy to come by in late 19th century Montana. a banana. as fucking if.

All Boys Aren't Blue (George M. Johnson, 2020) - as is proudly advertised on the back cover of my copy, in recent years All Boys Aren't Blue has been the second most-challenged book in America behind Maia Kobabe's Gender Queer. reading through All Boys Aren't Blue it was initially hard to see what exactly was so objectionable, until I realized that a queer Black person living their life with compassion and joy is the scariest thing some of these motherfuckers can possibly imagine. Johnson writes about their life growing up in the nexus of racism, homophobia, and masculinity with wisdom and endless compassion, directly addressing young people who may find themselves in similar positions to offer them assurance that they, too, can be okay. more than anything, All Boys Aren't Blue is a plea for young people to live their lives without fear and shame. it's a beautiful blessing of a book that I hope brings comfort to every innumerable kids who need it.

Little Rot (Akwaeke Emezi, 2024) - how do I even begin to describe Little Rot? definitely not for those who feel squeamish about sex crimes, I guess that's an important place to start. this novel starts with the breakup of a long-term Nigerian couple, Kalu and Aima, and follows both of them into a weekend that starts with drugs and sex parties and spirals increasingly out of control from there, drawing more and more characters into a complicated snarl of money and power. Little Rot has the seedy, lurid draw of an episode of SVU if SVU ever grew up and realized that cops don't do shit, reveling in the nastiest that Emezi's imagined city of New Lagos has to offer. cannot say this book is for everyone - few of Emezi's novels are - but god, it's a thrilling study in corruption.

The Persistent Desire: A Femme-Butch Reader (editor Joan Nestle, 1992) - this is a massive and fascinating historical document, assembled by Nestle as part of her work with the Lesbian Herstory Archives. within this collection are letters, interviews, academic essays, poems, and transcribed oral histories from all manner of self-identified butch and femme lesbians. while some of the contributors are recognizable names in the history of American queer activism (including Pat Califa, who's a bisexual trans man now lmao), others are women who were just trying to live their lives with as much authenticity, comfort, and dignity as was possible in their time. (although, notably, the vast majority of these women are white, and all but a very few are Americans. racial and cultural diversity is not one of the collection's strong suits.)

the personal narratives span all over the twentieth century, and I was really delighted to see the very frank discussions of what would be written off as "bad representation" by a lot of queer resources today: butches overdosing on toxic masculinity and getting in messy bar brawls, femmes committing outlandish acts of adultery, lesbian sexual awakenings taking place between fairly young children, and one extremely memorable instance of a butch getting unexpectedly pregnant and decided to do a little sex work on the side since she couldn't get more pregnant than she already was. I was particularly fascinated by the many, many accounts of "second wave" self-identified lesbian feminists who tried to do away with butch/femme identities and "politically incorrect" expression of lesbian sexuality altogether (that's everything but mutual cunnilingus, btw) in pretty eerie echoes of contemporary radfem arguments. at close to 500 pages it's definitely better suited to skimming and stopping to read whatever catches your attention rather than trying to read cover to cover, but I think this is a really invaluable piece of history.

American Mermaid (Julia Langbien, 2023) - this was a novel, for sure. American Mermaid is a novel about a broke, anxious high school teacher named Penelope whose novel, also called American Mermaid, is a runaway success that gets optioned for film. Penelope quits her teaching job and moves across the country to Hollywood to work on the script with two dude bros who don't really Get what American Mermaid is about, and set to work turning Penelope's weird, unsexy female empowerment novel into an MCU-style action romp with a hot young lead. the novel's strongest when it's deep in the spirals of Penelope's frantic mind, probing the conflict between her fairly desperate need for cash (she wants to be financially independent of her conservative father, she has good reason to suspect breast cancer is in her future, she wants to start a family someday) and the artistic affront she feels at watching her story be disrespected and dismantled. where it's weaker is in the extensive chapters of the story-within-a-story; while useful for context, I straight up didn't need to read that much of Penelope's novel. and the plot overall kind of felt like it fell off the rails near the end once Langbien finishes making her point about how Hollywood sucks. it's not bad, but it's also just... fine. it's fine!

How to Taste: A Guide Discovering Flavor and Savoring Life (Mandy Naglich, 2023) - how do I put this so nicely? this book is for people who are kind of dork ass losers about food, a group that I do very much count myself as a part of. I first became acquainted with Naglich's work when she appeared on a podcast called the Sporkful, which claims that it is "not for foodies, it's for eaters." I'm a fairly devout listener, and after listening to Naglich describe her efforts to become a master cicerone (one of the world's most elite beer tasters, a distinction that is taken Very Fucking Seriously) I thought sure, whatever, that's a book I can get behind. Naglich is maybe a big more entertaining as a podcast guest than a nonfiction author. in places the book can be dry or roughly constructed in a way that suggests another pass by an editor or maybe a co-writer would have helped. and straight up, there are just weird fucking typos in this book that are like. crazy to me, I cannot believe they got through. the cheap-ass cover art also suggests this was not exactly a high budget production.

but having been very mean about it, there are a lot of extremely interesting tidbits about the world of professional tasting here! it sounds awful and you couldn't pay me to do it, but here's the cool thing: Naglich is extremely aware that what she does is insane and she knows that the average reader doesn't want to learn how to identify where a coffee bean was grown just by sniffing the bean from across a room. what she offers instead are really approachable ways to be more conscientious about how you interact with and appreciate food! and she also shares some really cool info about tasting snobbery that IS bullshit, to help you sort out the stuff that actually matters and emphasize that fun and personal taste ultimately trump any "rules." it's a very dorky book but I, personally, did have a good time.

Sex Criminals Vol 3: Three the Hard Way (Matt Fraction and Chip Zdarsky, 2016) - every time I read another volume of Sex Criminals I find myself thinking "man, hang on, do I ever actually like Sex Criminals? am I enjoying this?" but then I end up placing a hold on the next one. I don't know, it's charming! it's like so very VERY 2010s in its dialogue, by which I mean it's like. you know. it's giving Joss Whedon before we all found out how bad he sucked and collectively booed him. but man, I love a story that's down to get weird, and Sex Criminals is sooooo about being weird. and yet also very normal where sex is concerned! considering this is a series all about people having freaky world-altering powers that activate when they cum, sex is treated as an incredibly ordinary thing, warts and all. I like that! I like seeing that! idk, I don't need every comic to be perfect, as evidenced by the fact that I'm actively enjoying Azrael: Angel of the Bat. sometimes the vibes are just good.

[garfield-mug]

Can I request a Bob blurb? Maybe he has a really hot girlfriend and nobody believes him until they meet her? You can do whatever you want with this!

A/N: for the purposes of this story, the daggers are permanently stationed in san diego. idk if this really fits the request, but i look at bob and immediately think that man can dance, so....

also, the squad gives bob a bit of a hard time in this one, but i promise they love each other lmao and the length of this may have gotten away from me, but i had fun, so it's okay lol and this isn't proofread bc i'm tired so excuse any spelling errors (i'll stop talking now byeee!)

(p.s. see if you can spot the movie reference, 10 bonus points to whoever points it out)

Word Count: 2.2k

Content Warnings: none unless you don't like dancing ;)

Cheek to Cheek

Bob knew he wasn't really a "ladies' man." He was rather quiet and reserved, keeping to himself most of the time. He wasn't cocksure and forward, like Jake. He wasn't a goofy, shameless flirt, like Bradley. He didn't consider himself shy; he wasn't afraid to engage in conversation or make friends. Bob just preferred to sit back and observe. He liked to watch and listen, getting a good read of every room he walked into. Watching and listening was how he noticed you.

You were a sight to behold. Bob reasoned that you had to be new to the club because he would've noticed you before.

Bob doesn't get much downtime, but when he does, he likes to spend it at the San Diego Swing Dance Club. Since he was little, Bob loved to dance. He remembers his mother teaching him a basic waltz when he was about seven. Gliding and twirling around the living room on top of his ma's feet are some of his fondest memories. He started ballroom classes when he was around twelve (he wanted to impress his date to his very first dance) and fell even more in love with the art. His repertoire grew and grew, having meticulously memorized different styles (paso doble was his favorite). He still loved dancing as he grew older, able to turn on the charm as easy as he knew the moves. He loved the way dancing made him feel. Bob never felt more free than when he was drifting about the dancefloor, leading his partner. He thought it was the closest you could get to flying while staying on the ground.

That's why, when he noticed you, he knew he had to have a dance. Thankfully, his regular partner, Julie, understood and agreed to the switch for the night (she was a great wingwoman). For as often as he was in his head, Bob usually never got nervous. He was nervous approaching you. He remembers it like it was yesterday. It was Lindy Hop night and you were wearing grey striped slacks, a white blouse with the sleeves rolled up to your elbows, and an old, beat up pair of white slip-on vans. He was in his usual button down and slacks. One look at you and he knew he was a goner. You looked a bit disheveled, hair haphazardly put up and out of your face, making small talk with a few other members of the group. He thought you looked ever so slightly out of place and that it was so, so endearing.

Eventually, he worked up the courage to ask you for a dance. It did take more than a few pep talks from Julie to get him to go over to you, but she didn't have to literally drag him there, so it was a success. He asked for a dance, holding out his hand. You said yes.

One dance turned into two, then three, and eventually you'd danced the whole night away. You'd exchanged numbers before going home and then you weren't just meeting once a week at the dance club. You were making time to see each other whenever possible. Days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months. It had now been six months since you and Bob made it official and you couldn't be happier.

Now, it made sense with his job and his general personality why the rest of the Dagger Squad hadn't known about you. They'd had conversations about their love lives often, but Bob had never really volunteered much information. You two had a good thing going and he liked to keep good things to himself for a while. Plus, the conversation rarely ever got turned his way. Bob was... very unassuming. The rest of the squad, except for Nat, never really inquired much about Bob's love life. It's not like Bob was purposely keeping you from his friends— it just never really came up. Nat was the only one who knew Bob was seeing someone and she was keeping it close to her chest out of respect for her friend and WSO, but also in the event that it spawned a bet. A bet she would surely win.

Eventually, one evening at the Hard Deck, the Daggers were all discussing their love lives once again. Mickey turned to Bob and asked if he was seeing anyone.

"I am, actually." Bob felt 5 more pairs of eyes snap to him, a collective "what?!" buzzing in the air at their inquisitive looks.

"You're seeing someone?" Jake asked, partially stunned. Bob wasn't offended, he knew he presented as a bit of a wallflower, and he was okay with that.

"What, you jealous, Bagman?" Bradley couldn't help himself. Jake's gaze snapped to the other aviator, challenging. Despite them both being on... better terms after the uranium mission, they still liked to jab at each other. Jake was usually better at it— slow, persistent needling while keeping a calm and collected facade. Bradley was more direct, favoring an immediate reaction over slow buildup.

Before Jake could respond, Bob cut in, turning the focus back to him.

"Matter of fact, I am," He sat a little straighter, dusting his pants of remnants of the peanuts he was snacking on. Natasha took a swig from her beer to hide the sly grin that was threatening to break across her face.

"Romantically? You're seeing someone romantically?" Reuben questioned.

"Sure am." Bob pushed his glasses further up his nose. He was thinking about you and how he wished you'd been able to come out tonight. You had talked to Bob about coming by to meet his friends, but scheduling conflicts always arose.

"What's her name?" Mickey asked.

"What's she look like?" Nat played into it, ignoring the pointed look Bob shot her way. He was still thinking of you, particularly about how darling you looked when you writhed underneath him, but they didn't need to know about that. Instead, Bob refocused, a dreamy smile taking over his features and a rosy blush creeping up his neck, landing on his cheeks. He couldn't help but look at the ground for a few moments, then he relayed your name. It felt so natural falling from his lips. The squad was eager for more information.

"She's just... perfect. She's smart and funny and so, so beautiful. She's got these eyes that just... and her smile?" Bob sighs, he actually sighs.

"I don't buy it." Jake is the first to burst the bubble. "I mean, we ask you what she looks like and all you give us is "oh, her eyes, her smile"? No way," Jake throws back the rest of his drink. Mickey and Reuben nod, signaling their agreement. Natasha smiles devilishly to no one but herself.

"C'mon, Bagman, he's clearly telling the truth. I mean, look at him. He's actually lovesick." Bradley chimes in. He knows what a man in love looks like.

"Yeah, it's kind of disgusting," Javy pipes up, firmly siding with Bradley.

"Well boys," Nat claps Bob on the shoulder. "Looks like we have a bet on our hands." She watches the men around the high-top table, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Hundred dollars in the pot says Bob's mystery girl is real. You in?"

Nat pulls out five twenty dollar bills, placing them in the middle of the table. Bob watches in amusement.

"Steep price, Natty, but I'll bite." Jake throws his wager in as well.

Eventually, everyone put some money in the pot, much to Nat's satisfaction, even if she would have to split the prize money.

"Alright, alright... When and where can we meet your lovely lady?" Jake asks Bob, who is glancing down at his watch.

"Uhh, this Thursday at the San Diego Swing Dance Club. Seven-thirty, sharp. Wear something nice, but comfortable." With that, Bob was throwing on his jacket and out the door, headed home to see you. He wouldn't have left so abruptly, but you'd sent him a text and he wasn't going to keep you waiting.

The Daggers were even more perplexed. Well, all except for Nat, but the rest didn't need to know about it.

"San Diego Swing Dance Club?" Reuben was taken aback. Jake was thoroughly amused.

"Oh I have got to see this now."

-

The week flew by, and eventually it was Thursday evening. You were excited to finally meet Bob's friends, he talked about them so often. You'd be lying if you said you weren't a bit nervous, fretting over your outfit and hair more than usual, not to mention your makeup.

"Babydoll, you'll look beautiful no matter what you choose." Bob had been sitting on your bed for the better part of an hour now, as you agonized over your outfit choice.

You sighed, coming to sit next to him. "I just want to make a good first impression." You rest your head on his shoulder.

"I promise they'll like you no matter what you wear." Bob presses a kiss to your temple. You take a deep breath and close your eyes.

"I'll go with the plaid pants then."

Bob huffs out a laugh, "Alright, baby."

-

The Daggers arrived at seven-thirty, sharp. Just like Bob had told them. Nat sent Bob a text, letting him know that they'd arrived. He excused himself from the group to collect the rest of his friends. He was excited, happy to share one of his passions with the people he called friends. He was also happy to finally introduce his girl to the rest of his friends. Bob made his way over to the rest of the squad, clustered awkwardly by the main entrance of the dance hall.

"Glad you could make it!" Bob pulls Natasha in for a hug and greets the rest of the guys in a similar fashion.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world, Bobby." Jake says, eyes sweeping the room for a lady to take home for the night. Bradley and Javy were doing the same. Mickey and Reuben had brought partners for the evening— a double date.

The group fell into their usual rhythm, easy conversation and a few friendly jabs here and there. Almost forgetting the reason why they were there. Almost. Jake was just about to bring up the fact that they still had yet to meet Bob's mystery girl, when the intro to Thurston Harris' Little Bitty Pretty One started playing from the bandstand. It was jive night, which just so happened to be your favorite. Scanning the crowd, your eyes found Bob talking with his friends. 'Well, it's now or never,' you thought, and you were beelining towards your boyfriend so you could make it onto the floor for the first dance. Bob was just telling Nat about this new recipe he tried out for dinner when he felt a tug on his arm. He turned to look at you and smiled.

"Bobby c'mon, can't miss the first dance!"

He looked back at his friends, "Be right back," and Bob was off to the dancefloor with you. The Daggers watched as he whisked you away, stepping into a seamless jive. You felt like you were positively flying, floating through the air, feet touching every cloud. The way you and Bob danced together was something special. You could read each other in a way most dance partners wished they could. Feeling the music, keeping in time with the rhythm, anticipating and adapting to every move the other made. Improvisation was the purest form of art, the amount of trust placed in your partner is unlike anything else. You and Bob had something special, there was no denying that, especially as you were twirling across the floor.

"Who knew he could move like that?" Javy had to pick his jaw up off the floor.

"They make it look so effortless," Reuben looked utterly amazed.

Jake had to admit, he was impressed. Game recognizes game and damn it, Bob Floyd had game. It really was always the quiet ones. You were pretty, and you seemed fun. You seemed like you'd be good for Bob, even though they hadn't technically met you yet. Jake couldn't even be mad that he'd lost the bet. What he needed now was to learn how to dance like Bob because apparently, that was a great way to meet a lady. You and Bob were out of breath when you rejoined the group, introductions going a smooth as ever. You like the squad and the squad liked you. By the end of the night, you and Bob had shown everyone how to do a basic jive. Reuben, Mickey, and Javy caught on quickly, feeling comfortable enough to join the people out on the main floor. Bradley and Jake needed... help. Nat was managing, wanting a bit more time to figure the steps out before trying them on the floor.

Before everyone knew it, it was ten o'clock and the band was saying goodnight. You and Bob were saying your goodbyes, ready to head home. Once you and him were out the door, Natasha turned to Bradley and Javy.

"Alright, we split this three ways and make sure to absolutely rub it in Jake's face." Nat divvies up the cash and Bradley and Javy take their cuts. Javy gives a curt nod and a smile before walking to his car.

Bradley turns to Natasha. "Can I walk you to your car?" He offers his arm.

"Sure," Nat smiles and accepts.

[anonymous-dentist]

The following story is inspired by actual documented accounts.

-

I was first introduced to Agent Cellbit upon the request of Agent Elena....

-

"How aware are you of Agent Cellbit?"

The office is dead silent. There's the clock on Elena's desk, stopped. There's Elena's breathing, and Roier's.

It's... awkward.

But Roier shrugs and answers with an easy smile on his face: "I've heard of him. He's some kind of genius, right? He's solved, like, all of your cases for you since you recruited him. He's the Enigma Guy."

Elena's left eye twitches slightly. The man with the cigarette turns towards the window.

"You're right," Elena says. "But, recently, he's gone... weird."

"He's always been kind of weird, though, right?" Roier asks.

"Yes, but now he's." She lets out a breath, clasps her hands in front of her on her desk, looks Roier in the eyes. "What do you know about the X-Files, Agent Roier?"

Roier blinks, confused. "They're cases the Federation doesn't want to deal with because they're too weird. Aliens and stuff, right?"

Elena nods. "The unexplained and impossible. But they're what Agent Cellbit has become obsessed with, and now he won't work on any actual cases. We would like you to complete a psychological profile of him and determine whether or not he's still fit for duty."

It's Roier's turn to nod. Of course, right. He's the psychologist... technically. He does more crime-fighting than psychoanalyzing these days, but he can do both. He's great at multitasking.

The man with the cigarette doesn't turn away from the window. His hair, pure white, shines in the sunlight.

Roier stares at him. Who is this guy?

Elena clears her throat, says, "We would prefer it if you didn't let Agent Cellbit know that he's being monitored."

"Of course," Roier responds. No shit.

He isn't an amateur. He's a FBI agent! He's got this!

-

Agent Cellbit is in the basement along with the X-Files themselves. He has his own office, and he's never interrupted. He doesn't have a partner, unlike most other agents, and he's become so reclusive recently that people are starting to think that he's dead.

But, no, he's alive.

"I can't believe that they think I'm crazy," Cellbit scoffs.

He's alive, and he's short. He's about at the same height as Roier's chin, but he more than makes up for it with how freaking cool his hair is. The white streak in his bangs goes down through his eyebrow, eyelashes, and his facial hair. And his eyes, they're so blue that he can probably see into another dimension. (Not that those are real.)

He's dressed neatly, at least: he's following bureau policy save for the lack of a tie and a pair of hiking boots where a pair of standard loafers should be. He has a pair of reading glasses pushed up in his hair, and he looks exhausted, and he's exactly who Roier had been picturing through all the rumors.

Cellbit isn't looking at Roier. He's rummaging through a bunch of papers on his mess of a desk, instead. He's pissed, and for good reason! His bosses think he's nuts!

Roier doesn't argue. He didn't mean for Cellbit to see through his lie of being his new partner, but he didn't not expect it; Agent Cellbit is a genius, everybody knows it.

"I'm not crazy," Cellbit says. He turns and points a finger at Roier. "Don't put that in your report. Crazy people always say that they aren't."

He goes back to his desk before Roier can say anything.

Roier rolls his eyes. Wow, rude!

He looks around the office. There are posters plastered across every inch of every wall, each one with something absolutely insane on it: aliens, UFOs, werewolves, vampires. There's even something that looks like the Loch Ness Monster that Cellbit has labeled 'MERMAID?????' in big red letters.

"Since you're here," Cellbit sighs, finally finding what he wanted on his desk and grabbing it, "can I get your opinion on something? Psychology really isn't my thing anymore."

Okay, that's a lie, Roier read Cellbit's profile before heading to the basement. Prior to becoming a Federation employee, Cellbit was a detective specializing in violent crime. He was, and debatably still is, an expert in criminal psychology. He can just get into killers' heads and figure them out, and, honestly? Roier's jealous. Just a little.

Just a little.

Reaching over and poking at his laptop's track pad, Cellbit opens a PowerPoint presentation that projects itself onto the wall behind Roier.

Roier turns to look at it. And he's immediately met with a photo of a dead girl in a pile of leaves. Blood is streaking down her nose, and her eyes are shut. She's in her pajamas.

"Elisangela Neide," says Cellbit, "the fourth person to die in this exact way, in this exact location."

He taps to the next slide. This photo is (presumably) of the victim's back, and two raised bumps next to each other on it.

"But," Cellbit continues, "she is the first to have been discovered with these marks on her lower back."

"Mosquito bites," Roier immediately says. "Look at the forest she's in, it's gotta be full of mosquitos."

"Sure, but they aren't mosquito bites." (Cellbit clicks to the next slide.) "See this? It's the chemical formula for the compound found around the marks."

The formula is... weird. Roier didn't pass chemistry on his first try, but he knows something organic when he sees it. This is organic, definitely, but-

"And," Cellbit continues, "we might already have the killer on record."

He clicks to the next slide and moves to stand next to Roier. The file in his hands is open and showing the same mugshot that's on the presentation: a young man with blank eyes staring at the camera.

Roier shudders. Creepy.

"Here's why this case is with the X-Files," Cellbit explains. "The killer claims to have been working under the orders of aliens."

Roier gives Cellbit a look. "Aliens aren't real. We'd know if they were."

"Unless the government was hiding them from us, but, sure, keep believing that."

"Whatever. If we know the killer, why is the case still open?"

"Because he was in a coma when the four murders happened. Despite that, his fingerprints were found on three of the four bodies, and he's gone to the police in his city almost daily since waking up from his coma saying that he's the killer."

...Huh.

Roier takes another look at the file in Cellbit's hands. Missa Muerto, what a fucking name. Was in a coma for four years after a car accident, has been awake for two weeks, woke up the day after the discovery of Elisangela Neide's body. Fingerprints were not found on her body, but were found on the previous three victims'.

"Weird," Roier comments. He looks back up at Cellbit, meeting his eyes and smiling. "So, are we going?"

Cellbit frowns and backs away slightly, pulling the file close to his chest.

"You aren't actually my partner, you know," he says.

"No, I am. I'm just also here to make sure you're doing your job."

"And psychoanalyzing me."

"Maybe, maybe not. But that isn't important. What is important," Roier says, gesturing towards Missa's projected mugshot, "is bringing the actual killer to justice. Whether it's this guy or not, we need to figure out what's going on."

"...You still think he's the killer?"

"I won't know until I get to interview him myself. Soooo... let's go?"

Cellbit stares at him for a second before turning away with a small huff of laughter. "You really are a psychologist."

And Roier chooses to take it as a compliment. Finally, he's getting some appreciation!

-

Missa Muerto is currently being held in custody in a psychiatric facility in his home city, and so that's where Roier makes Cellbit take him first.

But, before they get to the hospital, their car stops right in the middle of the road.

Roier, driving, groans and slams his foot against the gas pedal a few times. "Come on!"

Cellbit's eyes are wide, and his reading glasses are on, and the case file is in his lap.

He leaves his glasses and the file behind and clambers out of the car, ignoring Roier's questioning noises.

Rolling his eyes, Roier gets out and follows Cellbit around to the trunk of the car. He watches as Cellbit opens the trunk, digs around a little, and pulls out a shiny orange can of spray paint.

Cellbit takes three big steps backwards, nearly trips on his own shoelace, turns around, and paints a big orange 'X' over the road.

"Electronic interference is a classic sign of alien activity," he explains.

"Yeah, or we just have a shitty car," Roier snorts. "Come on, help me push this thing."

Just as he turns around, the car starts back up again. All by itself.

"See? Aliens," Cellbit insists. "Missa is right."

He heads back to the car, but Roier lingers just for a moment. He stares at the car, and then he looks up at the sky.

Nothing.

-

They finally manage to meet with Missa, and the first thing Missa does is insist that Roier and Cellbit both prove that they don't have anything shoved up their noses.

Cellbit chooses to blow his nose as proof. He shows Missa the empty tissue; Missa considers, sighs, and nods his approval.

Roier takes a slightly different approach.

"Come and check for yourself," he tells Missa. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and turns the flashlight on and holds it out. "Here."

"Roier..." Cellbit warns.

But Missa just snatches the phone up and holds it to his chest, the flashlight shining right into Roier's eyes.

"You know what you're looking for, right?" Roier asks, squinting through the light.

Missa nods, hesitant.

More hesitant, he takes a step closer. And then another step. And another.

"It's small," he mumbles, his feet and his words both unsure. "Metal. Kind of shaped like a piece of candy. They put one up me and I can't get it out."

Roier generously tips his head back so Missa can inspect his nostrils properly.

"Nobody believes me," Missa breathes. "But it's real! It's right here!"

He taps the side of his nose vigorously. Now that he's closer, Roier can see blood crusted around the rim of Missa's right nostril. Nosebleed, or he was trying to get the... thing out himself.

"Has anybody done an x-ray?" Cellbit kindly asks.

Missa nods, shining the flashlight right up Roier's nose. "They didn't see anything, but that's impossible! Because it's there! I can feel it!"

He peers into Roier's nose, entirely too close for Roier's comfort. But, really, it's fine. Roier's own dad does weird shit with flashlights all the time, this is fine.

"The aliens put it there?" Cellbit asks.

Missa freezes. "Them."

His hand starts to shake. So do his knees.

Suddenly, he drops Roier's phone and grabs him by the shirt with both hands in a white-knuckled grip.

"Please," he pleads, face twisted up in desperation, "you have to stop me! They say that I have one more to bring them, but I can't! I don't want to!"

Cellbit makes a move closer, but Roier gives him a Look (capital-'L'), and he stops.

Gently, Roier raises his hands and wraps them around Missa's wrists. Loose, easy to break out of.

"Have you ever tried just... telling them 'no'?" Roier asks.

Missa pauses. "Uh. Well..."

Roier takes the opportunity to pull Missa off of him.

"To me, it sounds like you're in a toxic relationship with them," he says. "You're doing good by asking for help. That's step one. Step two is taking accountability."

"But I am taking accountability!" Missa shouts. "I confessed to the murders!"

"And that's good! That's step one-and-a-half. But now you need to do step two, which is you taking accountability for yourself. You need to cut them off."

"How?!" Missa cries.

And then he screams, collapsing to the floor and curling into a ball.

His hands, of course, fly to his nose.

Roier immediately drops to his knees next to Missa. Cellbit kneels on Missa's other side. Neither of them move as a squad of nurses and orderlies rush into the room and start trying to help Missa off of the floor.

"Another!" Missa screams. He thrashes in the nurses' grips, blood leaking out from between his hands. "I can't do it! I won't! I can't! No!"

Roier watches as Missa is taken away. He frowns.

"I think he broke my phone," he say, not looking at his phone, still on the floor. "What the fuck was that?"

He looks to Cellbit, who's just smiling.

He's smiling.

"Well, Doctor Roier?" he asks, turning his head to smile creepily in Roier's direction. "What's your diagnosis?"

Roier absently scratches his nose, avoiding Cellibt's gaze.

"I think that he needs help," Roier says.

"That's fair. I think that we need to redo Elisangela Neide's autopsy and check her nasal cavity."

"What, you think Missa was right?"

"I think that you need to expand your horizons. Sure, he might be crazy, but his nose basically exploded as soon as you told him to stop listening to the aliens. They're listening. Who's to say that he's the only one they're listening to?"

-

The autopsy is done again. Cellbit stays and watches. Roier doesn't. (He hates the smell of dead people, yuck!)

After a few hours, Cellbit comes out of the morgue with a little glass vial held triumphantly in his hand.

"I knew it!" he crows, wiggling the tube around like a chemist.

Roier snatches the vial as soon as it's within reach, and he almost immediately drops it.

"What the fuck?" he wheezes. "Why is it heavy!"

He manages to catch it, but just barely.

And then he sees it: a dull metallic object vaguely shaped like a pill. Little wires poke out of cracks in its... shell? Its shell.

Slowly, Roier looks up at a giddy Cellbit.

"Try explaining this in your report," Cellbit taunts. "If I'm crazy for seeing this, then so is the medical examiner. And so are you."

...Fuck, Roier's report!

Sliding the vial into his coat pocket, Roier stands and meets Cellbit's gaze.

"This isn't about the report," he lies. "This is about the truth. Like I said back at the office, this isn't about me proving that you're crazy. It's about finding out who's actually killing people out here."

"Right," Cellbit dryly responds. "And who do you think is 'actually killing people out here'?"

"You're gonna say it's aliens, but I think it's something way simpler. Like a cult. That's the 'them' that Missa is so scared of. They convinced him to kill Elisangela Neide, and they convinced him that he killed the other three victims. Obviously."

Cellbit looks frustrated. Good, Roier feels frustrated.

"A cult," Cellbit flatly says. "Right. A cult is sticking metal tracking devices up people's noses and sending them psychic messages."

Again, frustrated, Roier throws his arms in the air and shouts, "I don't know, man! This is weird!"

"Exactly! Now you know why I have to be the one handling these cases. I'm the only one taking them seriously!"

Roier is ready to start a proper argument, report be damned, but he's stopped by Cellbit's phone ringing in his pocket.

Cellbit takes his phone out and answers the call: "Hello?"

He frowns: "Who is this?"

He pales: "Oh. He- what?"

He sighs: "We're on it."

The call ends. He puts his phone away, scrubs at his face with his hand, sighs again.

He then looks at Roier and explains, "That was the hospital. Missa escaped. The last thing he told the nurses was that he was going to 'take accountability'."

Roier's blood freezes.

Ah. Shit.

-

"Aren't you supposed to be a psychologist?" Cellbit demands as they run through the forest outside of the hospital.

Roier puffs out his cheeks in annoyance. "I'm a psychologist, not a therapist! I'm not trained to actually deal with patients!"

"Are you even trained at all?"

Roier trips over an exposed root and nearly falls, but he narrowly manages to catch himself on a tree.

Leaning against the tree, he shoots Cellbit a dirty look.

"What were you doing, eh?" he snaps. "You were just standing there!"

He takes off again after Cellbit, who hadn't slowed down or stopped to wait. Asshole.

"I was observing," Cellbit huffs. "Keep an eye out for Missa."

"Well, yeah."

"And listen for any strange noises."

"Like what?"

They both skid to a stop as a sudden high-pitched whine fills the air around them, like metallic fingernails scraping down a chalkboard.

Cellbit claps his hands over his ears. "Like that!"

He looks up at the sky. Roier doesn't. Why should he?

"What is that?" he asks.

And then there's a familiar-sounding scream from deeper in the woods.

"Missa!" Roier yells. "Hold on! Don't do anything stupid!"

Ignoring Cellbit's protests, he pulls his gun out and bolts in the direction the scream came from.

"I'm done with you!" Missa shouts. "Leave me alone! Find someone else to bring them to you!"

Leaves crunch and skid under Roier's feet. Twigs snap in his face, leaves pull at his hair.

The noise continues, and it only grows louder the closer Roier gets to Missa.

"First it was Alexandre," Missa rants, barely able to be heard above the noise, "and then it was Reyna, and then it was Casper, and now it's Elisangela! You say you need one more, well! Fuck you, aliens!"

Gasping for breath, Cellbit manages to catch up to Roier. He's pulled his own gun out, and did Elena really let the supposed security risk leave the office with a firearm? What the fuck?

"He was scared of them this morning," Cellbit wheezes. "What the fuck happened?"

"Maybe I am good with patients after all!" Roier suggests.

"That was terrible advice!"

"I'm not a relationship counselor!"

"I can tell!"

Missa continues ranting and shouting even as the noise grows louder and louder. He's unintelligible at this point, speaking in a language that Roier can't understand. (What is it, French?)

The trees are starting to thin out around Roier. A clearing? Gotta be. That's where Missa has to be.

And, Roier realizes as he approaches the tree line, it's where Missa's four victims were found dead.

Missa stands in the middle of a field of leaves and blood staring up at the sky. Wind whips around him, twisting his hair into knots and ruffling his hospital gown so hard that it's starting to tear. His nose is bleeding again.

Roier skids to a stop and aims his gun towards Missa's knee. Just in case he tries to run, that's all.

"Missa, look at me," he carefully says. "Don't listen to them."

Missa doesn't look at him. Missa doesn't look at anything.

His eyes, Roier notices, are a pure black color. They almost seem to be oozing black gunk. It's like he's crying.

"Missa!" Roier calls. "Look at me! Whatever they're telling you is wrong! You're better than them, you know that!"

Next to him, Cellbit quietly says, "Roier. Look up."

He's looking up.

And so Roier does as well.

He looks up, and he sees a bright light, and-

-

Agent Cellbit is fit for duty, but that he needs someone to keep an eye on him. He's invested in his cases, but that means that he needs a partner willing to both act as the skeptic and entertain his wild theories. Otherwise, there is a small possibility of him going rogue. Agent Cellbit appears to be psychologically sound, but further study is needed to make a sound conclusion. I, Agent Roier Brown, submit this report to the committee of sound mind.

Elena doesn't look too impressed.

"You do realize how ridiculous this sounds, right?" she asks, closing the file and placing it on her desk. "A UFO? Really?"

"Maybe a UFO," Roier corrects. "I didn't get a good look at it. It was... really bright."

"Right."

Elena pinches the bridge of her nose. The man with the cigarette is still facing the window.

"Do you, at least, still have the 'metallic object' the medical examiner retrieved from the victim's nose?" Elena asks.

Roier nods and smiles and reaches into his pocket. "Yep! Right here."

He pulls the vial out and places it on Elena's desk.

The man with the cigarette turns around. His suit is white, and so is his cigarette smoke.

Elena's eyes widen slightly. She picks up the vial, turns it around, holds it up to the light. Holds it out for the man with the cigarette to take.

"I see," she awkwardly says.

She coughs even more awkwardly and adds, "As per your report, I'm going to be permanently assigning you to the X-Files unit with Agent Cellbit. Keep an eye on him. If he starts to go AWOL, contact me immediately."

Roier nods again, slightly less smiley. "Got it."

It's her turn to nod. "That will be all, Agent Roier."

Roier nods one last time.

He stands.

He leaves.

He scratches his nose once he's out the door.

Cellbit is outside waiting for him with a new file in his hand.

"They still haven't found Missa's body," he says.

Roier rolls his eyes. "What happened to 'hello'?"

"And the local file for the deaths he caused has vanished. I called, and they told me that there was a fire. Every file was found intact except for Missa's."

Roier thinks back to the light in the sky and the figure within it. Its hand was extended downwards, and Missa's hand was extended up.

"The only copy left is the X-File," Roier supposes.

Cellbit nods. "I won't let him be erased."

That's what the X-Files are for, Roier realizes. They aren't about aliens or monsters or whatever-the-fuck.

They're about remembering those who would otherwise be forgotten. Those that are meant to be forgotten.

Maybe Cellbit isn't that crazy, after all.

(But Roier volunteered to help him for the foreseeable future, so what does that say about him?)

-

[For Spiderbit Week Day Three: Sci-Fi | First Meetings]

[sweetcherryharry]

Begin Again — 01

Synopsis: Harry and Y/N had a secret relationship for almost two years, until they broke up. A year later, she shows up to one of his Love On Tour shows.

(masterlist)

Y/N wasn’t really sure it was the right decision when she agreed to go to a Harry Styles concert a few months ago when one of her University friends suggested they go.

It wasn’t like she didn’t enjoy his music —not even close, it was the opposite—, she had been (and still is) a massive fan of his music for more than a decade, ever since his One Direction days. She adored him, always supporting him while in the band and when he went solo, that only increased.

But three years ago, her whole perspective on him changed. He was not only Harry Styles, one of the biggest pop stars in the world, one of the members of One Direction, but he became just Harry. Her Harry.

They’d met back in August 2019, when she was studying abroad in London. She had decided to take a semester somewhere else, wanting to live the whole exchange student experience in Europe. She was almost halfway through her career and decided it was the best time to go.

Oh, how things happen for a reason.

It was her third week living in London, and ever since the first day she arrived, she had her eyes set on a small café that was located just five minutes away from her small apartment. On her third day after arriving in the city, she decided to visit it.

She had fallen in love with it. It was a two-story local that had small tables, along with some sofas, meant for one to two people in each. The café was for people who wanted to study, get work done or simply read a book in peace.

Ever since her first visit, she’d go there around three or four times a week. She didn’t usually look around at the people in the café, but on this Thursday evening, as she roamed the place to look for the best seat, her eyes got stuck on a certain person.

She could identify that frame easily, after all, at the time, she had been his fan for around eight years, and she had seen numerous videos and pictures of the famous singer on the internet. 

Harry Styles was sitting down in a small booth at the corner of the café, a book in his hands. He wore a vintage Debbie Gibson Tour t-shirt, along with a pair of jeans and worn-off white vans.

For a second, her whole world stopped. She couldn’t believe the same man she had admired for so many years was now sitting down right in front of her, looking like any other person would.

But instead of walking up to him, she decided to leave him alone to read his book. He seemed focused, his eyebrows slightly furrowed as his green eyes skimmed through the printed letters.

And honestly, she was way too nervous to even be able to talk right now. 

So, she decided to sit at one of the tables that were beside the second-floor stairs —which she always preferred, as there were fewer people there—, and she pulled her laptop from her bag, ready to complete her school work.

Of course, she wasn’t going to let the opportunity to meet him get away, but she’d wait until he seemed more available, not really wanting to interrupt his time. Her plan was to get her nerves down, wait until he stood up from his place to leave, and then finally approach.

And she was happy she did follow her plan. Almost an hour later, from the corner of her eye, she saw the young man stand up from his seat, putting his book away in his tote bag. At that moment, they were the only two people on the second floor of the café, with only the background ambient music accompanying them.

It was now or never.

She stood up from her seat and took a deep breath, taking slow steps towards the famous singer. 

“Hi Harry, I’m sorry to interrupt,” Her soft voice made him turn around, and as soon as his green eyes made contact with hers, she felt her nerves increase by a million. “I just wanted to say hi, I’m Y/N.”

He smiled at her, “Hi, Y/N, nice to meet you.” He placed his palm towards her, and she placed her smaller one in his, softly shaking it in greeting. She couldn’t believe his skin was touching his, this felt surreal. “Are you from around here?”

He had to admit, he had noticed her earlier at the café. The whole hour she had been at the café, he had glanced at her from time to time, noticing the pretty girl who was focused on her work a few feet away from him.

“No, I’m an exchange student,” She could feel her heart beating hard against her chest, “I just arrived in London a few weeks ago.” 

He nodded, his smile never leaving his features, “Welcome to London, have you been enjoying yourself here?”

“Thank you,” She smiled at him, “And yeah, it’s been amazing so far. I definitely made a great decision when I chose this city to study abroad.” 

And without any of them noticing it, time went flying by that evening as they chatted with each other. What was supposed to just be a quick conversation —Y/N thanking him for his music and the love he has for his fans—, turned into a whole full conversation. 

After a few minutes, they even took a seat again. Harry had invited her to another coffee, and she agreed. She took her things from her original table, since she was moving his, and took a seat beside the brunette at the corner of the café.

Hours passed filled with laughter and good conversations, and they finally left when one of the employees told them they were closing for the day. Before they left though, Harry had asked for her number, enjoying her presence quite a bit, and she happily gave it to him.

He had texted her that same night, letting her know he truly enjoyed meeting her that evening, and that he looked forward to more coffee and chats. 

From then on, they started to meet from time to time at that same café, growing feelings for one another with each day, until eventually, they became (secret) boyfriend and girlfriend a few months later. 

It all felt like a daydream, both feeling their heads in the clouds… until it didn’t.

They broke up two years later, around December 2021. They were perfectly in love and smitten with each other, their relationship miraculously still a secret from the public—even though she went to almost all his shows in North America's Love on Tour leg that same year—, but as life returned to normal and his schedule got extremely busy as an actor and musician, along with having to fake a relationship with Olivia Wilde on his free days, their relationship got strained.

Ever since the messy breakup almost a year ago, Y/N and Harry had not seen each other. 

Of course, during the time being, she had listened to his new album “Harry’s House”, knowing in her gut most of the songs on the album were for her. But even with that knowledge and the emotions his lyrics caused in her, she still didn’t make a move to reach out to him about it, not even with a congratulatory text.

And now, as she stood in her green and black outfit outside the Kia Forum, which was extremely decorated with colors and pictures of her ex, she didn’t how to feel. 

A ton of emotions were running through her; happiness, sadness, pride, nerves, and many more. She was extremely proud of his accomplishments, she had seen the amount of effort he’d put into each thing he did, and for that, she wanted to cry with happiness for him.

But at the same time, she felt a heavy weight on her chest. The last time she went to one of his shows had been last November, on Long Island, New York, and those were one of the last few happy moments they had together. 

“Come on, let’s get a picture!” Natalie exclaimed, pulling both of her friends (Y/N and Maia) by their hands and to the front of the Kia Forum, where you could clearly see the ‘15 Nights Live’, ‘Kia Forum is Harry’s House’, and ‘Harry Styles’ Love on Tour’ huge banners.

After the three girls got a picture together —two of them clueless that one in the trio had dated the singer for almost two years— they made their way to get inside the arena.

Maia had been the one to get the tickets, exclaiming to the girls that it would be amazing to attend one of the shows in LA since it was close to home, and they were big fans of his. Y/N couldn’t say no, especially since both of her friends were so excited about it, so she agreed.

She was still a huge fan of his music —even knew every lyric from his entire discography— and she knew how amazing the crowd was during his shows, knowing she’d immensely enjoy the vibes, too. 

And even if she didn’t want to admit it, a deep, tiny part of herself wanted to see him again. It was an even better deal that she would get to see him from afar, to avoid the awkward conversations of how they’d been the past year.

“I have to confess something to you,” Maia said, stopping both girls in their tracks. She wore a nervous smile on her lips, and Y/N couldn’t decipher if it was something positive or negative,  “I didn’t get us seats as I said, I got us floor tickets. I found a great deal, and it’s going to be so much more fun!”

Natalie instantly started jumping up and down in excitement, causing Maia to laugh. Y/N, on the other hand, forced a smile on her lips, feigning happiness to be so close to the artist they were about to see live. 

On the inside, however, her nerves increased by a million. She knew how Harry loved to interact with the crowd, and he’d usually be very observant with his fans, even remembering faces that he glimpsed at shows. 

The possibility of him seeing her tonight in the crowd just increased a lot more, which was the last thing she wanted.

But she still kept her smile on her face and thanked her friend for the surprise.

The girls went inside the arena, and Y/N was happy that even though they were in the pit, they were closer to the back of it, already hundreds of girls and boys trying to squish themselves to the barricade in front of them. 

As the lights dimmed and the introduction to Daydreaming started to sound throughout the arena, Y/N swore her heart was going to fall out of her chest with how hard it was beating. Her hands started to sweat, and she felt butterflies in her stomach.

Fans’ screams rang through the Forum as a figure started to emerge from the center of the 360 stage, and it was when she finally saw Harry that her breath got caught in her throat. 

She knew how good he was on the stage, how he was born to be on it, singing and dancing his heart out. But as the first song played and he circled the stage with a huge smile on his face, she couldn’t help but feel extreme happiness and pride.

The songs went on and on, and before she noticed it, Y/N was now singing and dancing along with her friends, her worries vanishing through the air as she noticed that he hadn’t seen her in the crowd and that he probably won’t. 

The show was closer to the end, with only five songs remaining, and she was having the time of her life. She hadn’t enjoyed a show so much in so long, ever since the last Love on Tour one she had attended almost a year ago.

The beginning of Love of My Life started playing, and as she turned to look at Harry on stage, ready to sing the lyrics along with him and the crowd, she noticed his green eyes were already on her.

Their eyes locked with each other, and she swore she saw a million emotions cross his eyes in that second. A second that felt like a whole minute, like a whole eternity.

She was the first to break the eye contact, turning to look at Natalie who was standing at her right side, trying to distract herself from the heavy feeling on her chest. 

Only that instead of finding a clueless girl, she found Natalie with a huge smile on her lips as she looked at her. “Oh my god, Harry is looking at you!”

Y/N tried to shake it off, forcing a small laugh, “He’s been looking at all the fans! That’s what he usually does at shows.” 

She turned to look at him again, and surprisingly, he still had his eyes fixated on her, sending her nerves into a mess. Fans surrounding them were taking notice of how he was staring directly at a person in the crowd as he sang the first part of the song, and they started to turn around to find the mystery person.

Finally, as Y/N was starting to get more frustrated, it seemed like Harry snapped to reality, and tore his eyes away from her, acting like that whole thing never happened.

As the show went on, he’d glance at her from time to time, trying to be as discreet as possible. Yet, she noticed how his whole mood changed from that point on. His smiles and dance moves were now forced, and even though nobody in the crowd could notice how he wasn’t being himself, Y/N did.

She dated him for almost two years, after all. They lived together for the most part of it, sharing everything and anything with each other.

But he wasn’t the only one whose mood changed. Y/N wasn’t feeling herself, either. She had been dancing and screaming the lyrics earlier, enjoying the concert with her friends, but now she was forcing the smile on her lips, only singing the songs at a regular volume.

When the show ended and the lights were turned on, Y/N felt relieved. He had seen her, yes, but nothing more happened. She wasn’t sure what she thought would happen if he saw her, but it felt like now the worse had passed.

“The show was amazing! We definitely need to do this again.” Maia said as the three girls started to make their way to the exit. 

Y/N felt her phone vibrate twice in the pocket of her jeans, and at first, she was confused as to why it would, since she had ‘Do Not Disturb’ on. But as she took her phone in her hands, her eyes widened when she saw who had texted her. There was only one contact in the exceptions for the Do Not Disturb mode...

H: Heyy

H: Please stay where you are. A bodyguard will come to get you in a few minutes when the pit has emptied a little to bring you backstage. xx H

Well, fuck.

[bubuslutty]

Frankie loves his girl

pairing: Frank castle x fem!reader

word count: 843 words

tags: nsfw brain rot, p in v, male receiving, female receiving, size difference, stomach bulge, possessive frankie, obsessive frankie, he loves his girl very much, clothed sex, blowjobs, car sex, reader is mostly refered to as 'his girl' or pet names such as darling & angel, use of the words pussy and cock, Frank spits in her mouth heh & other nasty tags okay

warnings: under 18s pls dni, overuse of the word 'love', I wrote this on my phone so I'm sorry for any mistakes, English isn't my first language as well. also this is my first fic posted on tumblr. pls be nice :(

summary: Frank loves his girl very much. He loves her mind and heart, but also her cute ass and sweet pussy.

Frank's the type to live in a cottage, maybe in the woods, with his girl. He's the type of man that would wake up early, kiss his sleeping baby and go walk around the property, checking everything just to make sure nothing happened overnight.

Frank knows they're safe, he made sure of it, getting rid of anyone who'd hurt his girl and their peace.

But he still has to do it, his little daily morning walk, to ease his soul.

Yeah, he's protecting his girl, she's safe because of him, happy because of him, and that makes him unbelievably happy, knowing she can sleep as much as she can, without having to worry about a thing.

Oh, how much he loves his girl.

She's his girl. Even thinking about it gives him butterflies and a hard cock. She's his, and nothing has sounded so good before.

He loves her so so much. He loves her smart words, her creative mind and her heart.

He's so in love with how she speaks to him, how she isn't scared of teasing him, of playing with him and being a little bratty. She's so smart and fun and beautiful in every sense.

Frank loves her mouth, her plush lips and tongue, he loves that he gets to kiss her everyday, loves that he gets to spit in her mouth and watch her eyes get all glazed over.

Frank loves her hands, loves holding them and kissing them. He loves it when she gives him back scratches, when they're lounging on the couch. He loves her hands when they're wrapped around his hard cock. And Frank's big, he's big. And every time his angel has her hands around him, the size difference makes him breathless, makes him cum almost instantly.

He loves her soft skin, running his rough hands all over her soft body. Her breasts, stomach, back, ass, thighs, neck, everywhere. He's obsessed and starved every time he lays his eyes on her.

It's embarrassing really, how every time he looks at her, his body reminds him of the nights and days he spent between her legs, either dick, hand or face buried inside of her sweet pussy.

And she's so wet, always so wet for him. Her thighs sticky and her pussy dripping for him.

She doesn't even wear panties that much anymore when he's around. Sometimes it's thigh length summer dresses with cardigans, tight cropped shirts and short shorts that would expose the bottom of her ass when she stretches, barely decent enough to wear out in public.

All she wears is clothes that Frank can easily take off, slide his hands in to wander on her skin and grope her. And even if she wore something hard to take off, they both know he wouldn't hesitate to rip it off.

Fuck clothes, he wants to see his girl naked and pretty under him.

His girl is beautiful no matter what she wears or looks like. Frank loves her in anything and everything. But he does have preferences, after all, he's just a man.

He likes her in just one of his t-shirts, with absolutely nothing underneath. He loves her wrapped in his coat, wearing a stupidly tight t-shirt and shorts underneath. He likes seeing his girl show off her body for him. Especially when nobody else is around to look at what is his.

He loves fucking her while she's wearing one of those stupid tight white t-shirts she likes to wear, the cropped ones, that leave her stomach naked, with no bra underneath. Her sweat, and his sweat would make the fabric obscenely see through, making her nipples visible. And if he's feeling in a certain mood, he might just cum on her chest, over her t-shirt and on the lower half of her face while his girl is crying and cock drunk.

Frank loves shoving his hands in her shorts, through one of the leg holes, groping her ass and squeezing. You see, he's a possessive fucker and he likes to touch, a lot.

He loves feeling her shake and throb, clench and shiver. He likes to see her beg for his cock and try to swallow him while being all messy on his lap, his balls wet from her saliva. He loves it when she grinds her sweet little ass against his crotch, smiling coyly up at him. He loves folding her while he fucks her to the point of passing out, so hard that he'd be able to see her tummy bulge from the size of his cock.

He loves having her on his lap, in his truck, holding onto the hat he placed on her head while riding him, moaning and babbling nonsense while his cock is splitting her in half. Shorts thrown at the back and panties held in one of his hands.

Frank loves his girl and her sweet pussy very much. And he'd kill anyone with his bare hands if they try to take her away from him <3