#scary image! this is hope and love!!! This is what love and light and the fight to live looks like! And I think that’s neat

[fisherrprince]

for as much as I love and adore stories where the power of hope and friendship is a blinding wonderful light, full of happiness and ease and laughter, something hits different about the way hope, in ffxiv, looks like this

covered in blood and dirt and limping forward. It’s probably been said multiple times before but isn’t it a reassuring image to know that hope drags itself through the mud just as much as you do and keeps fighting when it can hardly stand. and amidst deepest despair, light everlasting

[brujamala-aka-gigi]

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ mini pac ｡⋆｡ ﾟ

˖ ݁random things about your next lover ౨ৎ ˚

this is a small light hearted pick a pile reading, made for fun. there's a good mix of random, quirky, and deep stuff in each pile. so yeah, pick one and take what resonates or take it as a sign if it makes sense to you. {this reading is written in a non-hetero centric way}

dividers by @cafekitsune & @jimzittos images found in @saizun 's blog.

pile one pile two pile three

pile four pile five pile six

.‧͙˚ *༓ scroll down for the readings ⋆ִ ‧͙⁺˚

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masterpost ✶ pac readings ✶ ko-fi page

⋆bookings for personal readings are open ཐིཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

˚˖𓍢ִ✧˚𝒑𝒊𝒍𝒆 𝒏𝒖𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓 𝒐𝒏𝒆.⋆༘˚⋆

They have way too many hobbies, and they’re all kinda niche but related to creativity.

Very playful with almost everything, quirky or bizarre sense of humor. 

Always looking for new things to do, seeks enjoyment and/or entertainment.

Humble, they don’t like bragging or being too loud about whatever they achieve. 

They are open minded because being judgemental goes against their logic. 

Amazing at teamwork. 

Deep down they are actually quite structured and disciplined, despite giving off the opposite impression. 

Unexpectedly responsible in their own way. 

Very curious, wants to know everything about you. 

Is quick to smell bullshit. Impossible for them to be lied to.

˚˖𓍢ִ✧˚𝒑𝒊𝒍𝒆 𝒏𝒖𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒘𝒐.⋆༘˚⋆

They love anything that has a darker, spooky, mysterious tone. But they are quite chill about it actually, they love scary things but they are not annoying about it. 

Easily misunderstood and badly judged by others tho.

They try really hard to be good at communicating with others despite being kinda shy and almost awkward. 

Always overthinking and over analyzing. 

They are nerdy, but in a history or philosophy way. Probably unable to do math. 

Amazing emotional intelligence, especially when it comes to dealing with difficult moments from their past. 

Worried about the future: they are not too concerned about traditional success, but they are concerned about leaving some sort of impact in the world, no matter how small. 

˚˖𓍢ִ✧˚𝒑𝒊𝒍𝒆 𝒏𝒖𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒆.⋆༘˚⋆

Hardworking, dedicated, passionate… maybe a workaholic. 

Actually quite handy and always willing to help or solve anything.

They love their routines, they swear by them.

If they love you, after you ask them “what's going on?” they won’t reply “nothing”, they will go on about an overly specific topic that they were reminded of by something random. 

Charismatic, but in a pretty eccentric way. 

Black cat looks, yellow cat personality. 

They are attractive because they are truly confident in themselves, and maybe quite uninterested in looking exactly like the conventional beauty ideals.

Detail oriented, borderline obsessive. 

They are always doing something, always on the go, always close to burn out… because the moment they chill they accidentally begin feeling unmotivated.

. ˚˖𓍢ִ✧˚𝒑𝒊𝒍𝒆 𝒏𝒖𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓 𝒇𝒐𝒖𝒓.⋆༘˚⋆

Party animal but in a golden retriever way. 

So friendly and nice it's almost scary. But in reality they really enjoy meeting people, hanging out, and chatting. 

Also, quite altruistic and willing to help out anyone with anything, they don’t care who or why. 

They have a lot of friends, and acquaintances, but they have a very small inner circle who they are extremely loyal to. 

Very strong sense of hope for the future. They never lose the conviction that everything will eventually turn out just fine. 

Their will is sometimes too strong, they don’t let anything go easily. 

Either on the spotlight or in a leadership position most times. They don’t look for it, it just happens. 

Sometimes overly protective, but they have quirky ways of showing that.

Not good at flirting, they're quite dorky about it, but somehow it works for them

˚˖𓍢ִ✧˚𝒑𝒊𝒍𝒆 𝒏𝒖𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓 𝒇𝒊𝒗𝒆.⋆༘˚⋆

HOT as fuck. As in sensual and captivating.

Highly perceptive about the people around them, they like to wonder how the mind works.

They might look off standish, cold or uninterested, and yes, they might be most times but that doesn't make them bad people.

In reality they are trying to look cool while being shy and afraid of intimacy.

Highly intuitive.

Many times their expectations for themselves are insane, but their expectations for others are low.

Probably super into classic literature. Dante's Inferno specifically.

Quite romantic, but also kinda pretentious about it. Don't expect average gifs, expect something that is a reference to an obscure experimental new wave french film or something.

They don't joke about their spotify playlists.

. ˚˖𓍢ִ✧˚𝒑𝒊𝒍𝒆 𝒏𝒖𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒊𝒙.⋆༘˚⋆

Highly sensitive and creative but in a Lana del Rey kind of way.

They really have a sort of "old soul" vibe.

Too empathetic for their own good, but they are always working on it.

Staying at home is their favourite thing to do, specially if there's sweets involved.

Incredibly patient. They actually prefer slow-paced everything. Books, movies, shows, hobbies, everything.

Probably into crafty hobbies and podcasts.

They have a very low social battery, but they are always willing to put the effort if it is because of someone they appreciate.

Very proud of their roots and overall life journey.

Not very talkative, unless they have something they deem important and necessary to share.

masterpost ✶ pac readings ✶ personal readings

✶ ko-fi page ✶

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆ available for personal readings ⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

[wriothesleybear]

Based off of this magnificent fanart

~warnings: a lot of fluff and romance, a bit suggestive in Wrio’s part, fem!reader. Word count: 1.6k

~a/n: I couldn’t get over the fanart of Wrio and Diluc as firefighters and I just had to write about it. It’s my first time writing for Diluc so I hope it’s ok. This is also in honor of getting a body pillow of him. It’s so beautiful and I sleep much better with it.

Firefighter!Wrio who you met when he rescued your cat from a tree. You couldn’t help but swoon from the image of this large, buff, muscled man holding a little kitten in his arms. You thank him and he can’t help but think about how beautiful you are. He was about to ask you for his number when he got called for another emergency. You meet him again when your cat gets stuck in a tree again. He feels slightly guilty for being thankful that your cat got stuck again so you two could meet again. After he hands you your cat back, he smiles down at you and asks you for your number. You blush and give it to him.

Firefighter!Wrio who is the type of boyfriend to tease and flirt with you. He has a playful and chill attitude outside of work compared to his focused and serious attitude at work. He likes to carry you a lot, either bridal style or throws you over his shoulder to get you into a giggling mood. It always cheers you up when you’re feeling down. Loves tickle fights. He will actually chase you around the house until he catches you, dragging you to the couch so you two can snuggle. Once he’s got you in a cuddle hold, there’s no getting up for a while.

Firefighter!Wrio who loves kisses and make out sessions. While you’re busy doing something, he’ll wrap his arms around you and pepper kisses down your neck until you decide to drop what you’re doing and give him your full attention. He enjoys when your fingers slide down his body, nails lightly scratching his skin as you admire his build and muscles. He really likes it when you pepper kisses on his scars.

Firefighter!Wrio who is a mixture of a golden retriever boyfriend and scary dog boyfriend. The golden retriever portion is due to him doing anything for you and being needy for affection. He’s always touching you in some way and follows you around the house like a puppy. The scary dog boyfriend is due to him looking scary to those who don’t know him. The piercing, scars, and large build sort of intimidate other guys from approaching you or bothering you. Little do they know, he’s just a golden retriever boyfriend who wants affection and cuddles. He is very protective as well.

Firefighter!Wrio who is great with kids and animals. He lets kids decorate his items with stickers because he can’t say no to them. If it makes them happy and smile, then who is he to take that away from them, he’ll deal with the onslaught of stickers. He sometimes thinks about what it would be like if it was your kids that were covering his things with stickers.

Firefighter!Wrio who loves to lay on your chest while your fingers rake through his hair. It helps him sleep better after a long stressful day. He acts a bit off when he’s had a hard day. He doesn’t really like to talk about the bad work days because he doesn’t want to spread the negativity to you but you can tell when he’s had a bad one. You don’t try to push him to talk if he doesn’t want to so you just open your arms for him and hold him. He can feel the weight lift off his shoulders when you hold him. It lets him know that it’ll be okay and that you’re always there for him even when you don't verbally say it or not.

Firefighter!Wrio who exercises on his free time. You love watching him work out and he likes your attention on him. Your eyes focus on his muscles as they flex when he does pull ups. Droplets of sweat slide down his sweat slicked skin, causing his skin to glisten in the lighting. While lost in your daze, you’re snapped out of it when he leans down in front of you, a hand positioned on each side of you on the bench, and he makes a flirty comment like “Darling, you’re drooling a bit. Am I really that mesmerizing?” as he gives you his signature teasing smirk. He’ll then offer you to join him in the shower. It turns out to be a very long shower that involved more than just washing each other’s body.

Firefighter!Diluc who you met when he saved you from a small kitchen fire. You were trying to bake something and it didn’t work out, therefore, it ended up in a fire. You felt so bad and embarrassed but he just reassured you that these happen a lot so it’s no big deal. He looks at the burnt pastries and points out that you accidentally put the temp up too high for too long causing the fire to occur. He sees the shameful look on your face and gives you a gentle look and some reassuring words on not to give up on baking. You smile and thank him and he swears his heart skips a beat at your beautiful smile. He’s unable to think about it further as he’s called away for another emergency.

Firefighter!Diluc whose heart skips a beat again when you show up at his firehouse later that week, gifting him some pastries you made as a thank you. You joke and say that they should taste better than the burnt ones you made last time. He covers his face to hide the slight blush that begins to cover his cheeks as he accepts your gift. You two exchange numbers as friends until it develops into something more.

Firefighter!Diluc is the slowburn type. You two start off as friends first, hanging out and all that until romantic feelings begin to blossom between the two of you as you get to know each other more. When he's sure you feel the same, he gathers the courage to ask you out on a date. He gives a small smile when you say yes. His shoulders relax and his heart is racing a bit more when he finally hears that you feel the same.

Firefighter!Diluc who is the protective type of boyfriend that spoils his s/o. He loves spending time with you doing mundane things. Cooking, having movie night, reading together, shopping, etc. You two could be doing the most boring activity and he’d still enjoy it because all he cares about is being with you.

Firefighter!Diluc who is a great cook and enjoys cooking/baking with you. He gives cooking advice and hugs you from behind while you cook. He says it's easier for him to help and supervise what you’re doing this way, but in reality, he just wants to be close to you as much as he can. He’s more than happy to taste test your cooking creations. (Plus he helps to make sure you don’t accidentally start another fire again). He thinks your concentration face is adorable.

Firefighter!Diluc who gives you a passionate kiss before he leaves for work. Neither of you ever know what could happen so he wants to make sure that you know how he feels about you in case it’s the last time you see him. He keeps pictures of you and him together in his work locker. It comforts him when he misses you and gives him the courage and strength to make sure he comes back home to you.

Firefighter!Diluc is the type to not discuss his work at home as well. He wouldn’t want to burden you with stress and worries. When he’s had a bad day, he’s pretty good at hiding it, but you’ve learned to read his cues that show he’s not doing too well mentally. You immediately drop everything and guide him over to the couch where you let him bury his head in your neck as you hold each other close. His hold is tight around you, but not constricting. You give him words of comfort while rubbing his back and playing with his long, beautiful red hair. He basks in your affection and comforting touches, inhaling your scent which helps calm him down as he nuzzles into your neck.

Firefighter!Diluc who lets you play with his hair. You have a blast trying multiple different hairstyles on him while he relishes in the feeling of your gentle touch on his hair. After a long day, when you two take a relaxing bath, he appreciates it when you take the time to wash his hair. It’s a rewarding massage that helps him relax and feel sleepy. He swears you have magical hands by the effect you have on him. All you have to do is touch a part of his body and he melts into your touch.

Firefighter!Diluc who loves holding hands with you. The feel of his warm, calloused hands compared to your gentle, soft ones. Your touch is like heaven to him. He prefers leaving kisses on your hands the most. Please cup his face. He’ll absolutely melt right then and there and give you anything you want. He also likes resting your foreheads together. He wraps his strong arms around your waist, holding you close as you cup his cheeks, leaning your forehead against one another and gaze into each other’s eyes. He thinks it’s the most intimate and romantic thing you two do.

[enwoso]

Can I request either alessia is on a team bonding night out and has Ella minding grumpy but grumpy has a nightmare and wakes up and refuses to settle without alessia so all the Arsenal girls come back to do their bonding night at alessias so grumpy can relax and go back to sleep

and/or

Grumpy having an allergic reaction to something and getting sick and alessia and the girls have to look after her

NEED HER — alessia russo x child!reader

grumpy masterlist

"wit woo! doesn't your mummy look gorgeous, tiny!" ella giggled as she looked at you with a smile as alessia emerged from round the corner, her heels clicking on the wooden floors which took your attention from the tv playing one of the many films you and ella had lined up for the night.

you and ella sat both in pyjamas, blankets covering the two of you as you'd turned alessia's living room into a blanket fort along with all your teddy's from your room joining just to make sure they didn't feel left out.

alessia had spent the last hour getting ready to go out for some food and a few drinks with the arsenal girls it being part of their team bonding. when nights like these occurred you usually would spent the night with either your uncles or your grandparents but since ella was in london, ella jumped at the opportunity to see her favourite little russo.

"mummy look like a princess" you smiled as alessia gave you a pout as she came over to kiss your forehead and say her good nights to you.

"mummy loves you and be good for auntie ella, okay?" your mummy's tone had changed so you knew she was serious and you nodded, "'ove you too"

ella getting up and walking alessia to her front door. the cab filled with some of the arsenal girls already out side waiting. "and ella remember no sweets after 8 and her night light needs to be on and she doesn't-" alessia began her list of reminders to her best friend, things ella had heard at least five times today.

"doesn't like her door shut, i know less! now go and have fun with the girls and have a few drinks for me yeah?" ella patted the blonde on the shoulder as she stood in the doorway saying her goodbyes, waving to a few of the arsenal girls who she knew that were sat waiting for the blonde in the uber.

"i'll should be back before 12! call me if you need anything!" alessia called out as she walked down the garden, ella waving her off watching as the uber pulled away. moving to shut the front door hearing it click in place before walking back to where you were sitting contentedly watching bluey.

"right i think it's sweet time, tiny!"

after eating too many sweets that if alessia found out she would definitely be a little mad as the ending credits of the last film you were watching were rolling on the screen now, after watching luca first, ella should have maybe put on cars or the good dinosaur but she didn't.

and she wouldn't even deem it a scary film but you were scared. you'd watched pinocchio. ella didn't even noticed the warning that said it wouldn't be suitable for children under the age of 8. just assuming because it was in the children's section that it would be okay for you to watch.

ella knew you were scared but when she asked you, you had told her you were a big girl and nothing scares you.

so when ella put you to bed at your bedtime of half seven making sure you put your night light on and leaving your door open after you'd drifted off to sleep. ella now hoping to be able to catch up on her own series while tidying up the mess you and her had made over the evening.

what ella didn't expect half an hour later was:

"ella.." you spoke quietly, your blanket and esme the elephant teddy held close to you as you stood in the dimly lit hallway. ella looking up from her phone to see your scared frame as tears pooled in your eyes.

"oh tiny, what's wrong?" she cooed as you wondered close to her, your bottom lip starting to wobble as she held you in her arms.

"n-nightmare" you choked out as the tears began. images of the film you'd last watched replayed in your head as well as you nightmare which was of a similar story line.

“shh it’s okay, don’t cry” ella tried her best to calm you down but everything she tried had no affect on you, the tears carried on and ella was at the point where she didn’t know what to do.

she had tried rocking you back and forth, putting bluey on the tv for you to watch, reading you a story book, giving you some milk but nothing worked and nothing soothed you.

“wan m-ma-ma” you whimpered as you sat in ella’s lap, ella conflicted as she didn’t want to ruin alessia’s night but she also didn’t want to have you upset and there was nothing she could do that would settle you. you didn’t just want your mummy, you needed her.

the brunette sighed in defeat, picking her phone from her pocket and getting alessia’s contact up, pressing on her number. to her surprise it only took a few rings before the blondes voice could be heard.

“ella? is everything okay?” she asked, a slight wince on alessia’s face as she could hear you small whimpers for mummy in the back ground.

“um i’m sorry to ruin your night but less she won’t stop cryin’ for you. i’ve tried everything!” ella said, feeling guilty about ruining the blondes night out which only came once in a blue moon for alessia to begin with.

alessia reassuring ella over and over that it was okay, “ella i’ll be ten minutes max, just keep comforting her and i’ll be as quick as i can!”

alessia finished the last little bit of her drink getting up from the table, making sure she had everything before booking an uber back to her house. the arsenal girls had ended up in the local darts club a few drinks along with a gossip and a few games of cards.

“sorry girls but i need to go, y/n won’t settle for ella” alessia apologised as a few of the girls nodded understanding the blonde’s situation before beth spoke up.

“if it’s not too much trouble for you could we not finish the bonding night at yours? maybe order some food in?” beth suggested, alessia taking a minute to think before agreeing. the rest of the girls beginning to pack their own things before making arrangements of who was going in what uber.

eventually after twenty minutes alessia made it back to hers, rushing in front of the other girls. knowing the current state of her that her daughter was in.

unlocking her door with her set of keys, dropping her back and shoes at the door. leaving it open for the girls to come through as the blonde made her way to the living room. her heart breaking slightly at the sound of your cries. you never cried like that so something must of really upset you.

seeing you bundled up in ella’s arms a look of relief came over ella as she saw her best friend. alessia’s motherly instinct kicking in as she scooped you up into her arms. you head going into her neck as your cries immediately started to quieten down.

“what happened?” alessia asked, wondering what it was that had upset you, normally when you were with ella you didn’t even need alessia around. getting on with the brunette like a house on fire always giggling and joking around with her.

“she had a nightmare, and i have now learned that pinocchio is not suitable for children” ella scratched the back of her neck a awkward smile appearing on her face as she spoke. alessia humming, it all made sense to the blonde now.

alessia excusing herself upstairs to try and settle you down for the night as she allowed the arsenal girls in telling them to make themselves comfy as ella chatted away to them.

“it’s okay baby, mama’s here.” alessia cooed as she lay with you in your bed, drawing little shapes on your back as you hiccuped. you starting to feel more relaxed as you clung to your mummy not wanting to let go.

you breathing was starting to become more shallow as you drifted in and out of sleep, the only sound to be heard in your home was the hushed voices of the arsenal squad. alessia placing a sweet kiss to your forehead.

“mummy loves you so much”

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

may 2024 twst manga updates~

***This includes spoilers for the Episode of Savanaclaw, Episode of Octavinelle, and the 4koma!***

AAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH LILIA SILVER AND SEBEK LOOK SO GOOD HERE 🤡 I love how Silver and Sebek are constantly shown flanking Lilia, it really enhances the bodyguard/knight vibes! Every time Lilia appears, he always looks like he's having so much fun. Lil' guy is living it up in every panel! Especially when he appears upside down to spook Ruggie.

efbiuSIUBDBYypvfW9wpWD THIS SHOT IS SO GOOD??????? ?I'M LIVING FOR CATER MAKING SILVER AND SEBEK LOOK LIGHTLY UNCOMFORTABLE AS HE HANGS ON THEM.............. .... . . . . ....... .. .... .. . . . . .. ..

Ruggie's despair is delicious 🤤 He's thinking about all the events that led up to this point and about how that will now all go to waste. Now that I think about it and I have the visual right in front of me... That's the same thing Leona felt every time he got knocked down for his efforts. The parallels, man...

Well, fellas... Looks like it's probably Overblot Leona time next chapter. A detail I love here is that, from Leona's perspective, all the faces of his dorm members are sorta blotted out... which is interesting seeing as how it was stated that Mrs. Rosehearts' face was intentionally blotted since she is considered the source of Riddle's trauma + the light novel tells us that Leona fears seeing hope and desperation for a better future in others because it might motivate him to try again, thus prompting another failure or rejection... 😭

Palace servants: Young master Leona's magical power is so strong, it's scary!! Leona: Damn, they don't understand me! They judge me before they even get to know me. If I were the older brother, they wouldn't be saying this stuff. Also Leona: [see image above]

MALEWIFE MODE RUGGIE????? 😭 What a contrast to the Ruggie in the Episode of Savanaclaw who is really going through it…

Love the detail of Yuuta and Grim helping out with chores in the background! It shows that they’re trying to pull their weight while they stay over.

Babe, wake up... New Yuuta and Leona reaction images just dropped from the Episode of Octainvelle... (I am Yuuta whenever new TWST content drops and my non-Twstie friends are Leona whenever they're listening to me blab nonstop about the updates--)

Yuuta once again proves to be my favorite of the current Yuu iterations 🫶 He’s just so sweet and hopeful!

We actually get to see the class photo!! Although the resolution here is very grainy. I'm really hoping that we get to see a close-up after Azul's OB!! I'm dying to see what he looked like as a kid!

fbhlavfuoeqy8vevif;fa fai THIS CHAPTER REALLY MADE ME LIKE ACE?????? ??? ? ?? ? It's probably because he gives the same flawless liar (even though the acting is sooo overexaggerated) energy as Jade in book 4. There's a really fun scene where he's distracting the Atlantica Museum guards and really hamming it up. He looks so cute while he's being (fake) upset yet so enthusiastic!!

This was my favorite part!! Ace excitedly talks about how he's always been interested in merfolk since he was little (lie) and how he saved up all his money to come to this museum (also a lie)... THEN BRO HAS THE AUDACITY TO POSE LIKE THIS AND TALK ABOUT WANTING TO BE A PART OF THAT WORLD????? ?? ???? ? ?? ? ?? ARIEL WHO>?????? ?? ??? ?? ? ?I o NLY KNOW TRAPPOLA NOW

One of the 4koma this month is about Octavinelle going on a camping trip! Azul wants to study the stars for money-making ideas/inspiration.

When talking about auroras, they're reminded of the Diasomnia students and think about making an aurora-colored drink to sell to them. The Octatrio also star-gaze and talk about aliens + selling octopus to them. They discuss the idea of filling a space suit with water and fish to they can walk in space too.

The other 4koma is about Trey brushing the mouths of his mandrake (as they have no teeth but dirt). He insists that everyone should have a clean oral cavity.

You can even tell which mandrake is Trey’s because it has a bunch of toothbrushes stuck in its pot 🪥

Jamil was planning on using his own mandrake to make an ancient remedy for relieving toothache. Trey is uh… interested… and attempts to test out the healing toothpaste for himself (Jamil of course stops him).

Trey… you’re the most NORMAL one, why are you like this OTL

[milksnake-tea]

more sunday character study practice <3

Thinking about Sunday, who used to sing his sister to sleep.

Back when his strides weren't so wide, when his shoulders weren't so stiff and when his eyes weren't so dim. Back when it was just him and Robin, exhaustion wearing down the both of their small bodies, huddled in their shared bed with the stars - real stars, not the artificial glimmer of the Dreamscape - gazing down upon them.

Into the cold night air, he'd sing, a wordless melody crafted from what little memory he had of his home and his mother. He'd sing the notes of her embrace, the swells of her smile and the trails of her love. He sings without restraint, for he sings for his sister and the family she barely remembers.

He sings less as he ages. Robin is the singer now, taking to the skies on a sparkling stage. He is left to support her from the shadows, from behind the stage, watching her soar from the earth. Occasionally, he finds him humming a tune or two, only this time, it is not the song of his mother that he sings, but his sister.

As a young adult, the melody begins to die. He can't remember some of the notes, and the image of his beloved mother begins to fade. Work swamps him, and the role of Bronze Melodia is not an easy one to fill. Hearing the plights of humanity, both small and large, wears down on his voice.

When he realizes he's singing once more to his sister's songs, he stops himself. His tune has become off-key.

Years pass, and he has stopped singing altogether. The strings have been retuned to speak, to command, to console. The trill of the songbird is quieted, forgotten.

The catastrophe of Charmony Festival comes and goes, and he is cast away. With nowhere to go, he becomes a wanderer, traveling from planet to planet with no goal or destination. He meets new people, sees scenery that the Dreamscape could never hope to replicate, and witnesses, for the first time, the world of the awake.

During his stay on a planet he doesn't remember the name of, a child walks up to him. To them, he is not Mister Sunday of the Oak Family, nor is he the traitor of the Asdana System. To the children, he is just Sunday, or, to some of the mischievous ones, he is the "weird bird man".

The child tugs on his sleeve, the other hand rubbing at their eyes. They can't sleep, they tell him. It's too cold, the dark is too scary, and they miss their mom.

Sunday smiles sympathetically, and opens his clipped wing for the child. He picks them up - they are so small and light and frail, like glass - and cradles them against his chest. Above, real stars gaze down on them.

And he sings once more, a wordless melody.

reblogs w comments are appreciated !!

[604to647]

Toot-toot, Beep-beep

As is my style, squeaking in last minute to take part in @jolapeno's brilliant idea to encourage people to toot their own work; while I still feel very shy about my writing, I can't help but be heartened by the lovely interactions and kind encouragement I've received this past year - so Imma gonna give it a go! Thank you for the tags @aurorawritestoescape @joelmillerisapunk @milla-frenchy @evolnoomym @sawymredfox

@iamasaddie @sanarsi @greenwitchfromthewoods it was wonderful to read your lists, revisit some old favourites and grow my tbr 🥰🥰😘

One-Shots

Emily never met a fic she couldn't turn into a series, but once in a while she tries to contain herself:

What Was I Made For (Frankenstein AU Tim Rockford; Tim is our titular "Creature" but there is nothing monstrous about him. I cried while writing this!!!! 😭😭)

Photocopies (S1/S2 Narcos Javier Pena; does it still count as a one-shot if it's a follow-up to a one-shot I wrote the year before? And if I plan on writing more "one-shots" for the same couple? Another angsty one for these two as they're kept apart by Javi's poor decisions and dumb [affectionate] self-sacrificing nature 😔)

Instalment of Series

I write mostly series, so here are a few chapters from last year that I'm proud of:

Ch. 19 The Betrayal from Safest with You (Modern AU Retired Mob Enforcer Din Djarin; this is my first and longest running series - my baby 🥹. With this chapter I finally wrote that scene; you know the one you think up originally and end up building an entire story/series around?)

Hold On from The Rockford Portfolio (I will always think of this Tim Rockford fic fondly because it was born from such a fun, spontaneous coming together of the community after @mrsmando asked which Pboi is a Tiddy Guy, and together, we forever cemented Detective Rockford as a Boob Man).

Ch. 2 - White Chocolate Macadamia from Mi Galleta (Modern AU Pero Tovar; I spend a lot of time pouring over bike diagrams, biker images and biker Tiktoks for this chapter where we give our scary bouncer a sports bike. It was really hard work 🤭 Also, Protective!Pero 🥹)

Part 1 of Strawberry Shortcake (Frankie Morales goes to a strip club and falls in love with a cocktail waitress; this one came out of nowhere and was mainly vibes, but I love it. When I wrote it I knew I was leaving it on a cliffhanger, but had no idea where I was going to take it [Narrator: she took it to 22K words in total])

Smut

Having only started writing in 2023, this was an area of major insecurity for me! So, this year we practiced, practiced, practiced:

Ch. 16 The Match-up from Safest with You (Baby's first sex tape; Modern AU Din Djarin)

The Detective and the Agent (Baby's first threesome; Tim Rockford + Marcus Pike)

At First Light (Baby's first somno; Tim Rockford)

Paperwork (Baby's first cockwarming; Tim Rockford)

Challenges

I think Jo also said recently that writing can often be a lonely activity, solitary in nature. Whenever someone hosts a challenge or writing/fandom event, it goes such a long way towards alleviating this loneliness, pulling us out of our isolation - it's really so, so nice. People who host, you're gems 🥹

Agent Hephaestus (Pedro Pantheon hosted by beskarandblasters; an allegorical telling of Agent Marcus Pike as Hephaestus. The hardest thing I ever wrote! At one point, I printed this out and edited it old school style, literal pen on paper😂😂)

Dance for me (Mootboards and minifics hosted by @yopossum. Such a fun idea and remains the prettiest moodboard on my blog 😍 Happy to be able to give Detective Tim Rockford a silly detective case plot [my favourite fiction genre to read] and patting myself on the back for adding a few Strawberry Shortcake easter eggs as well 🤭)

Brandy by the Fireplace (Trope-off hosted by @auteurdelabre. The trope I chose was "Fish out of Water" so naturally, we had to go with Frankie Morales. Self proclaimed City girls and anxious girls [gn], I hope this one speaks to you. I've never disclosed this before, but this one is inspired by true events 😭😂).

The Might of the Realm (The Glandolorian challenge hosted by @beefrobeefcal. My first love, husband, Din Djarin in a canon compliant post-S3 story that fits into an AU that has been living in my mind rent free since that last season ended. Maybe I'll write more for them, because as stated before - Emily never met a one-shot she could leave alone 😂)

Hidden Gem

Dodge (Vigilante AU Javier Pena, aka what happens when Emily thinks of a way to write that Daredevil fic that's been rattling around in her brain since 2018. This is really unlike anything else I've written - I'm a big Marvel fan, but probably won't ever write MCU fic [I do read a fair bit though!] so I'm proud of the way I was able to weave story elements from two of my fave fandoms together. If you read it, a) um I love you and b) tell me if you're also a Daredevil fan and if you're getting those vibes 🥹🥹)

No tags because I'm so late but please do share and toot yourself if you're so inclined! Thank you all for visiting me this past year - your support has helped me so much, I can't even tell you; I would never be able to toot myself without your kindness. Love you lots! Here's for more to toot in 2025! 🥂🥂

Dividers by @saradika-graphics 😘

[b00kdiary]

Euphoria | Ithan Holstrom

Ithan Holstrom x Plus Size Reader

Where Y/N finds herself needing to be reminded just how desirable she is, and Ithan Holstrom is more than willing to show her. Here's to all my thick, fat, plus-size girlies who want some SJM men love too xo

Warnings: mature themes (18 +) swearing, body-image issues, eventual smut and the Ithan being utterly infatuated with his thick, beautiful lady.

MASTERLIST

I stared, unblinking, as Ruhn Danaan, Crown Prince of the Valbaran Fae, kissed his way down the neck of a gorgeous and dark-skinned Faun. I trailed my gaze along as he sucked and bit gently against her soft skin and perfect bone structure, the Faun's eyes closed, her face a mirror of lust and bliss.

The grip I had on my glass tightened and I willed myself not the shatter it, to not draw attention to myself, to how jealous and seething I was.

The fluorescent lights inside the White Raven danced over the two of them, highlighting their ungodly beauty as they danced and rocked against each other to the beat of music. My chest tightened at the way Ruhn's arms wrapped so effortlessly around her slim waist, resting against the perfectly flat length of her stomach, revealed by her cropped bralette.

She was lovely by most standards and typical of the kind of females Ruhn was seen with- tall with small breasts and a small, yet nice ass and petite enough that there wasn't a single place that sat out or rubbed or curved too much.

Unlike me.

I swallowed down the lump in my throat, taking a long indulgent sip of my drink to drive away the dryness and the sorrow. It was hard not to trail my mind into those uncharted, dark waters, the kind of scary, hollow place of insecurity where I could pick myself apart and rip any sense of security I had to pieces.

Because unlike that Faun, who had turned now, her toned back facing me as Ruhn kissed her, kissed her with so much passion and need that it made me feel sick. Unlike her, I was not petite or skinny and I did not look like the kind of girl that Ruhn Danaan desired.

"You're glaring, Y/N." A deep voice interrupted my pity party and snapped me back into this room, away from all the meanest, cruellest thoughts I had of myself.

I turned, levelling out my eyes and surprise-filled me when I met with honey-brown eyes and a smile that could melt a girl's heart and drop her panties.

My lip kicked up as I took in the golden-brown soft waves of hair and tan sun-kissed skin, my gaze moved down, over the acres of strong, corded muscle that was further accentuated by the form-fitting t-shirt he wore.

"Ithan Holstrom," I mused, cocking my head at him, and seeing his lip tilt into a lazy smile "You're the last person I expected to see here, I didn't think this was your kind of scene."

"It's not, not really but," He shrugged, glancing over his broad shoulder to where a few wolves sat gathered around a table "But the pack forced me."

"You don't strike me as the type of guy who can be forced to do anything," I raised a brow, tossing a long strand of hair over my shoulder and felt Ithan's eyes track each movement. "Don't try and hide it, you came here for a good time, a good fuck maybe?"

He chuckled at my playful words, the sound rough and heady, running over me and prickling my skin. I forced myself to breathe as he stepped closer, close enough that his hard chest brushed against my breasts, and I felt the warmth and scent of him.

"Is that what you came for?" He asked, though his words weren't a question, not as he looked over my head, his stare pointed, straight to where Ruhn and that Faun stood "Or were you planning to glare at Ruhn Danaan all night, hoping he'd notice you?"

"Don't be a prick," I scowled, my lip curling and I pushed at his chest, hearing a rough bark of laughter escape him as he saw the fire burning in my eyes " I might be pining after Ruhn, but it's no different to how you trailed after Bryce like a lost puppy all these years, Holstrom."

His eyes darkened at that- those honeyed pupils shadowing into a starless night sky. Bryce was a sore topic still, even after two years and I felt guilt gnaw at me, hating myself for mentioning her, for the way that smile tilted down now.

"Bryce didn't want me, I knew she didn't," Ithan gritted back, his jaw locked and his eyes hard "Ruhn might want you, he could want you as badly as you want him, you're just too scared to find out."

"I'm not scared," I said defensively, crossing my arms over my chest, and yet again, I didn't miss how his steely gaze fell, something sparking in them as my top lowered and revealed my ample cleavage. I clear my throat, ignoring the twist in my gut "I'm just realistic, I know Ruhn's type, I've seen his type and I know I'm not it."

"His type?" Ithan mused, raising a dark, thick brow at me "What? Gorgeous? Desirable? No, you're definitely not his type." It was sarcastically drawled, accompanied by a sassy eye roll and it was the least serious I had seen Ithan in years- since Connor died.

"Try petite, skinny and perfect," I snort, but my voice isn't as joking as I would like, it's heavier, weighed down by the reality of the words.

"Bullshit, Y/N," Ithan scowls, and the way his eyes glared out in protest, in defence, it was as if he was furious at me for even saying what I did. "If Ruhn fucking Danaan thinks you're not perfect then he's a bigger asshole than I already thought he was."

I felt my face heat, my body turning hot and needy at his words, at the honesty and conviction behind them. He stepped closer, close enough that I smelt the mint and alcohol on his warm breath, and a fire sparked in my core- and I didn't step back.

"You think I'm perfect?" I whispered, my voice hoarse and shaking slightly. I couldn't stop staring into his eyes, couldn't stop watching the lust roil in them, darkening them by each second, we inched closer, drawn together like magnets. "Don't fuck with me Ithan, I mean it."

"Y/N, while you were busy glaring down Danaan and the Faun," Ithan said, his voice slipping into a low timbre, the gruffness clawing over my nerves and making me breathless "I was staring at you."

"You were?" My voice was softer than I wanted it to be, but my defences were wearing down. I had always found Ithan attractive, always wondered what he would be like as more than a friend. And as his hand snaked around my waist, large, veined, and ringed, and slowly dragged me to him, I knew that those feelings hadn't faded with time.

"You might not believe me, but I was staring at you, alongside damn near every other male in this room, Y/N," Ithan muttered, his face inches from mine and when his nose brushed against my cheek, my eyes fluttered. "If you had just looked around you, you would have seen how many wanted you- and how could they not?"

I felt his hand trail down my back and sides, over the rolls and curves of flesh, and I felt nauseous, hating that he could feel it. But he growled, a purely animal sound, his fingers digging into my flesh as if he was holding himself back as if touching me brought him to the edge of his control.

"Ithan," I swallowed, steeling my spine, and forcing back the fierceness and power I was used to wielding with men, "I'm not Bryce Quinlan."

"And I'm not Ruhn Danaan," He shot back immediately, his lip quirking "But that doesn't change the fact that I fucking want you, and I know you want me too."

I inhaled a shaky, long breath, my throat drying out at his words and at all the sinful, dirty images that flashed through my mind, filthy enough that I had to clench my thighs shut.

"Let's walk to yours, no cab," I say hoarsely, ignoring the way he grinned as I grabbed his hand and began dragging him to the exit. He followed dutifully, his fingers interlocking with mine, his thumb brushing soothing, soft strokes against my palm.

"Why?" He laughed, his brow raising at me as I glanced over my shoulder and I didn't miss the way my body ignited, striking, and burning as his gaze trailed over my skin.

"Because I can't promise I won't ride you in the back seat," I said honestly, gnawing on my lip as my eyes met his over my shoulder "And I don't want the night to end before it's even begun."

"Fuck," Ithan swore, low and dirty, and I could smell his arousal.

Just like I knew he could smell mine.

***

We walked through The Wolves Den with ease, silent and quick-paced as we waded through each corridor and climbed floor after floor.

Ithan had wanted to take the lift straight to his floor and had been so on edge that he looked as if he might have taken me against the wall in the goddamn lobby if I had given him the say-so. But I wanted him at breaking point, wanted that wolf inside him to come out clawing, biting and roaring.

So instead, we walked, each second that passed and the silence that stretched drawing the tension tauter and tauter, and I could feel my blood thrum in anticipation. Ithan looked over at me as we walked down the final corridor- and the smirk he wore, the knowing gleam in his eyes, told me everything he wanted to do.

"You have got to be kidding me, Ithan," A voice declared, female and high-pitched, loud enough that it grated against my senses and had both of us coming to a reluctant halt. I eyed the fifth door, which happened to be Ithan's room, with need. "Bringing the trash home?"

"Watch it, Amelie," Ithan growled, his eyes tapering in warning as he turned to glare at the dark-haired, golden-eyed female before him. His pack member- and a total hateful bitch.

"Why? Scared I'll scare away your whore for the night?" She snorted, her arms folding over her chest as she looked at me, amusement and cruelty gleaming in her eyes. I saw her stare trail between us, taking in our interlocked hands, the way our arousals wafted in the air, and she scowled.

Jealous, that much was obvious.

"Hey, Ithan?" I mused, glancing sideways at him, and smiling sweetly. He rose a brow at me, confused and half-amused. "Are the walls here thin?" I stared pointedly, past Amelie, to the open door at her side, number four- right next to Ithan's.

Ithan seemed to catch onto my thought trail and chuckled lowly, nodding his head "Very thin."

"Amelie," I smirked, my hand trailing up Ithan's muscled chest as he punched in the code and pushed open his room door, "When you touch yourself tonight, imagining that Ithan's fucking you and not me, don't be too loud- Ithan might hear it and go limp."

"You fucking-" Her eyes burned, and so did her cheeks, outrage and embarrassment filling her as she stepped toward me.

"Have a good night, I know I will." I winked and Ithan's laughter flittered over to me, caressing my skin like a phantom touch. The door clicked shut behind me, and suddenly, Amelie was gone, and it was just me and him, in his room, together, and alone.

"I don't think I've ever seen Amelie that red before, she's not used to being put in her place like that," Ithan noted, his eyes dancing with amusement as he leaned against the back of his sofa "She's not going to let that go, you know?"

"Amelie's a neurotic, insecure bitch," I scowl, walking a few tentative steps further into his room, "She can get fucked, I couldn't care less."

Ithan doesn't say anything else, remaining silent as my gaze lifts and washes over his room. I take in the four bare walls and the simple brown sofa, glass table and TV, a large double bed at the furthest wall and a chest of drawers and a matching wardrobe at its side.

"Not what you were expecting?" Ithan asked, cocking his head to the side as he observed my expression. I pursed my lips, looking over his folded arms, the way the muscles bulged, and I swallowed.

"I'm not sure what I expected," I say honestly, my voice quiet and when I slowly began to walk over to Ithan, I felt the tension in the air go taut. I paused, standing just before where he sat on the sofa's back, looking at me with a wry smile. "Were you being honest when you said that the walls are thin?"

"I was," He chuckled, revealing two sharp canines on either side of his upper teeth and I shivered at the sight of them. I imagined them against my skin, teasing, scrapping, and biting and I clenched my hands. "Were you being honest when you said you would be having a good night?"

I smiled at the heat in his eyes, at the way we were so close, yet we didn't touch not in one single place, and I knew he was holding out, restraining himself from grabbing on to me, just as I was.

"I plan to have a good night," I say, cocking my head in challenge "But really, it's up to you how good of a night for me it is."

One second, I'm standing before Ithan, smirking, cocky as I watch the lust burning in his eyes, and then the next, his fingers are wrapping around my throat, his ring digging into my jugular as he pulls me to him.

I groan as his mouth collides with mine and my body shakes at the heady, desperate way his lips move against me, tasting me, devouring me, taking me like it's his last night on Midgard. I melted into the strength and solidity of him, his hand at my throat, the firm pressure there, making my body turn weak.

Ithan's lips move against me, deep, languished strokes that fan the embers sparking in my stomach and I dig my nails into his chest, curling my fingers around the fabric of his t-shirt, needing to tether myself to him, to keep myself upright.

I whimper at the feeling of his left hand descending my body, his fingers gripping against every bit of flesh and curve with need, all the way from the top of my spine to the curve of my ass, and he groans as he cups me, the flesh spilling out and soft against his palm.

“Bed, now,” I pull back, my faces only inches from his and we’re both panting wildly, lust and need dancing in our gazes, like a mirror.

“Hm, not sure I’m a fan of being told what to do in my own place, sweetheart,” Ithan smirks, and my eyes flutter as he draws me closer, biting and suckling against my neck, the feeling of his canines against my skin driving me crazy. “Why don’t you try again?”

“Stop trying to be an alpha male, Ithan,” I manage to grit out, desperately trying to force down the moans that threaten to slip past my lips, but his mouth and tongue against my hot skin make it so hard. “We both know you’re really just a puppy- ah-“

A squeal escapes me as both of Ithan’s arms wrap around me, hooking under my ass and there’s a whoosh of air as he yanks me up into his arms, so fast my heart lurches and I’m locking my legs around his waist and holding onto his t-shirt so tightly I’m surprised it didn’t tear.

“You’re far too coherent right now,” Ithan grumbles and fuck if the sound of it doesn’t go straight between my legs. I hold onto him tighter as he begins to carry me over to bed, looking as if my weight is less than nothing to him right now. “I’m going to need to fix that.”

“Please do,” I whisper, tossing my hair from my face and bringing my lips back against his, slower, deeper, the hardness and ridges of his body brushing against my breasts feeling so good and the long, thick length rubbing against my thigh feels even better.

Ithan smirks against my lips as we thump against the bed and true to his word, Ithan drops me on the bed, so hard and fast I grunt at the impact, my body and tits bouncing as I land on my ass. The sight makes him smile, and the way he towers over me, looking like some kind of God has every nerve in my burning.

“You’re fucking incredible,” He mutters, and the honey in his eyes is gone, melted into the darkest chocolate, the kind that told me every filthy, heady, dirty thing he wanted to do to me. I leaned back on my palms as he rested a knee on the mattress, lowering his pleased face down to mine. “But I bet you’d look even better without all the clothes.”

His hand snakes around to the zip at the back of my top and fuck, fuck, fuck- I freeze.

“Or not?” He mutters, a crease forming between his brows at the way my body physically locks up and his hand immediately stops, resting flat against my back, his thumb rubbing softly to soothe me. “We don’t have to do that if you don’t want-“

“No, no-“ I shake my head, clearing my throat as I bring a hand to cup his jaw, loving the way he melts into the touch, “It was just a habit, a muscle memory reaction- No, trust me, I want to, I want you, Ithan.”

“Good, because I want you too, Y/N,” He mutters, smiling as he brings his mouth down, but he doesn’t pull at the zipper, instead he kisses me, tastes me, and enjoys me, and my hands curl into the root of his hair, glad for that moment of reprieve.

I can tell he’s being sweet because he is sweet, and now that he knows I’m hesitating, he won’t make the next move until he’s sure I’m ready- and I am, I am so fucking ready.

I pull back from him, my eyes locking with his and the room is so silent, deadly silent, as I draw my hand back and ever so slowly tug down the zipper to my top. The sound is almost sensual, making Ithan’s face darken, in anticipation, in feral lust.

I gnaw on my lip as the zipper pulls free and still keeping my eyes on his, I draw the top forward, down my arms, every movement deliberate until the fabric is discarded on the floor beside us. Ithan says nothing as he stares down at me, as he stares down at my bare chest, my breasts heavy and aching and I’ve never been gladder that I chose not to wear a bra.

His Adam’s apple bobs and the breath seizes in my lungs as his cold hand traces across my back, around to my chest and he groans, low and deep, the second his hand cups around my breast. I gasp as he kneads the flesh, his fingers slowly and deliberately tugging on my pebbled nipple.

“Ithan,” I growl, I can’t help it, he’s staring at me, looking like he wants to devour me, but he hasn’t bloody moved. “Do something, for Cthona’s sake.”

“So needy,” He croons, and I nearly sigh when he leans forward again and pushes me back to lay flat against the mattress. My body shivered as he climbed onto the bed, his large figure moving to hover over me, and I felt almost small in comparison to him, a feeling that was unfamiliar to me.

He kissed lower down my neck, his mouth inching closer as his hand kneaded my breast, rolling the sensitive bud between his fingers and tugging gently igniting so many sparks that I couldn't even speak, merely moaning breathlessly with each sure touch.

I gasped when his head ducked, his eyes shielded by the strands of hair that fell forward as he plucked one nipple into his mouth. My back arched and my fingers dug into his shoulders hard enough to hurt as the raw feeling of his tongue and teeth teased me.

“Ithan,” I moaned when he began biting against my nipple, not too hard, but firm enough that I felt the shock go through every nerve ending, sparking, burning, and throbbing, so hard I felt it in my core.

My head spins as Ithan begins shifting lower, and I cringe when he begins trailing his hands down my stomach, instantly thinking over every roll and stretch mark and flesh that was there- not that he seemed to mind. No, he kissed against the skin, trailing his tongue languidly down, just as infatuated as he had been before.

The tension in the air is thick as Ithan runs his calloused hands down the side of my thick thighs, kneading the flesh and teasing the material of my skirt, his intentions obvious. And with the ache beginning to become unbearable between my legs, I don’t hesitate to lift my hips, glad when he immediately hooks his fingers into the top of my skirt- pulling it and my underwear down in one go.

It’s almost amusing how quickly he discards the excess material over his shoulder, so transfixed on the sight of my naked body before him, sprawled out and burning from the intensity of his gaze.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” He groans, his voice hoarse and the tightness coiling in my chest eases as he runs his hand up my thighs, feeling the cellulite and stretch marks and grins as he spread my legs apart for him to come between.

My heart races in anticipation as he sinks down below my parted thighs, his eyes burning with satisfaction as he comes level to my core, and the urge to clamp my legs shut fills me- which he seems to sense, if his strong grip on either side of my thigh, keeping spread wide apart is any indication.

I feel his hot breath against my most sensitive part and just when I feel like the seconds are dragging into minutes, making me fidgety and restless, I gasp at the feeling of his tongue flicking against my clit, soft and probing, coaxing out quiet moans from me.

“That’s it,” Ithan purrs and the sound vibrates against my core, making me clench my fingers into the duvet under me for purchase. Ithan seems encouraged by my moans, his tongue lapping against my clit in long languish strokes that draw pleasure from me in waves. “Taste so fucking good.”

He grins against me, cocky, sure, and under any other circumstances I’d hate it, but right now, I can’t find it in me. Instead, I reach down, lacing my fingers through his soft hair, tugging, yanking, and scratching, coaxing Ithan to give me more- which he happily does.

“Fuck, oh my-“ Two fingers prod my wet entrance, and the sound is so lewd as he quickly stuffs the two digits inside me, stretching me in the most perfect yet painful way, especially when he curls those two digits, hitting a spot that has me seeing stars.

“There we go,” Ithan coaxes softly, feeling my body start to vibrate and writhe, that pool of pleasure building and building within me, plummeting fast and harder as he fucks his fingers in and out steadily, in tandem with the smooth agile movement of his tongue against my clit. “There we go, such a good girl.”

I cry out, trembling and moaning as a white-hot blaze burns through me, starting at my core and running into my thighs and stomach, all the way down to my toes. I pant, my head fogging with the overwhelming blanket of pleasure that Ithan’s smothered me with.

Ithan groans, his teeth tugging at my sore clit before he eventually lets go, his fingers slipping out of me with ease. I exhale harshly at the loss of contact, sagging back as the euphoria dies down and my body settles into calm again.

Ithan ascends my body, a shit-eating grin on his wet lips and I don’t have time to even speak before he captures my mouth in his, pushing his tongue deep into me, letting me taste myself.

“How’s that for a puppy, sweetheart?” He mutters, biting my bottom lip and I roll my eyes at the sheer masculine satisfaction in his voice, in those bright eyes as he stares at me.

“Don’t be an arrogant prick,” I snipe back, ignoring Ithan’s laughter as I place either hand on his shoulder and the surprise that lights his face as I yank him down onto the bed beside me, flipping us so that I’m straddling him, makes me grin. “I’m still in charge, Ithan.”

“If this is you being in charge, I’m not fucking complaining,” He smirks lazily, his voice heavy with lust as he leans back, his eyes oh so slowly trailing across my body atop his, looking like the cat that got the cream as he enjoys every inch of me.

I smile, soft, as I run my hands against the seam of his t-shirt, my thumbs hooking under the material and slowly dragging it up- revealing inch after inch of tan, smooth skin, so much corded muscle it makes me hot. Ithan easily helps, and it’s not long before the material is over his head and thrown to the ever-growing pile of clothes on his floor.

I drag my core against the front seam of Ithan’s jeans, and our groans mix in the air at the feeling of his hard length brushing against me. I don’t waste any time, Ithan’s eyes never leaving me as I move my hands to the front of his jeans, my fingers fumbling against the button and zipper, almost desperate as I open them, tugging the materials down just a little.

“Shit,” I mutter, my eyes widening as Ithan’s hard cock slips out, breaking free and slapping back against his stomach. Ithan snorts at my reaction, at the sheer surprise on my face at the size of him, and my cheeks heat in embarrassment as he smiles at me. “Shut up.”

“Fuck, Y/N,” His eyes flutter as I grip my hand around his hard length, my fingers struggling to find purchase as I palm up and down, every moan and gasp that escapes him egging me on. “You’re fucking killing me here, sweetheart.”

“Poor puppy,” I tease, smirking and Ithan’s canines expose in warning, his hands coming to either side of my hips, and when he slowly lifts me up, dragging me closer to him, I prepare myself for the feeling of him inside me.

“Shit, shit,” I moan as Ithan’s cock brushes my entrance and I ever so slowly sink down, down, down, until he’s stretching me like he’s going to break me in two, until his tip brushes something far and deep inside me.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” Ithan swears, his fingers digging into the flesh of my hips and thighs so tightly, I can feel the cut of his nails.

I flutter my eyes as the burn soon seeps into pleasure and we both suck in a gasp of air when I drag up, so deliberate and slow, all the way to the tip, before slamming back down, hard and fast. Ithan swears, his chest rising and falling so fast as I do it again and again, his cock slipping against my wet core like it was made for me.

“Ithan, oh-“ I whimper as I ride up and down his cock, alternating between fast, hard strokes and long, slow ones, Ithan’s hands at my hips guiding me along, helping me chase after the relief, and I know I won’t last long, not with the cord within me tightening so perfectly.

“Look at you riding my cock so well,” Ithan praises roughly, his teeth gritted as he pants and moans every time he sinks into me, and when my eyes lock with his, I’ve never felt more seen, more desired in my life. “Look at those tits bouncing, fuck, taking me so good Y/N.”

He ruts his hips up to meet me, the sound of him fucking in and out of me, so wild and demanding, is like music in the room, mixing with our moans, our low curses, and the way our hands wander over each other, unable to get enough.

My fingers scratch against Ithan’s chest and abs, my body starting to shake and weaken at how good it feels, how he’s hitting against a spot that makes my insides turn to mush, again and again. Ithan must sense my fatigue, sense my head spinning, because he grabs me, and within seconds, we’ve flipped over and he’s on top of me now.

His hand guides my thighs around his hips and my eyes roll, my back arches, as he sinks in even deeper and I whimper into his lips, into his mouth at the brutal pace he sets, slamming into me again and again, unrelenting, and merciless, so fucking good I can’t catch my breath.

My eyes flutter open as Ithan’s hand wraps around my throat, pressing firmly on either side of my neck and when my eyes meet his when I see the burning, commanding, domineering power behind them, it’s like something in me rips in two.

He hits a spot, some magic, fathomless spot inside me and it all shatters to pieces like glass.

“Ithan, I’m-“ I cry out, black dots blurring my vision and my body bucking and writhing against his hard muscles as release ripples over me like a tidal wave. Ithan grunts as I clench around him, suffocating his cock inside me, the orgasm hitting me and lasting longer than I’ve ever had.

“That’s it, that’s fucking it,” Ithan whispers, panting against my lips, and I feel his movements become sloppier, more erratic, more careless, driven to the edge by me coming around him. “Everyone in the whole fucking Dens gonna know whose making you feel this good.”

I whimper at the filthy words he grunts into my ear, my body trembling with the aftermath of my orgasm, edged on by the way Ithan still fucked in and out of me, chasing his own high and when his forehead rests against mine and he groans, guttural and heady and low, I know he’s found it.

The sound he makes, the growl that escapes him, reverberates through the whole damn room and my body is aching as he comes to a gradual stop inside me, our sweaty, panting bodies, melting into each other as we climb down from our peaks.

Ithan groans as he slowly slips out of me, the feeling of his warm cum leaking from me and dripping down my skin making me blush, and the small smirk that lines his lips as he inches back to look at me tells me he finds it both amusing and adorable.

“I can feel your cum leaking down my thigh,” I breathe and Ithan's eyes flutter, rolling as he laughs, burying his face into my neck dramatically, as if I were completely ruining him.

“Keep saying shit like that, Y/N and I might just have to chain you to this bed,” Ithan mutters against my skin, kissing and nibbling across my neck and jaw before he meets my lips again, kissing me sweetly as if memorising the taste and feel of me.

“After that, I’m tempted to let you, Ithan,” I grin, sighing as he rests his weight on top of me, his arms on either side making sure not to crush me, but the warmth and touch is welcome.

“Are you still thinking about Ruhn Danaan?” He muses, cocking his head, and the honey has returned back to his eyes, that smile turning boyish and soft again as he stares down at me.

“No,” I say simply, honestly, dragging my hand up his chest and neck, before settling against his jaw, my thumb drawing lines across the hard ridge there. “Are you still thinking about Bryce Quinlan?”

“Definitely not,” He smiles, earnest and firm and the sight makes my entire body heat again.

“Good,” I let my eyes darken, letting him see just what I was thinking as I wrap a leg around his hip, drawing his hardening cock back down against me- and he grins with feral delight at the action. “Because I haven’t quite gotten you out of my system yet, Puppy.”

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

@mis-lil-red @hyemishii @assaultsofthought @starswholistenanddreamsanswered

[spencersssockss]

Entomophobia

Summery: Spencer says I love you to you for the first time and you get terrorized by a beetle.

Warnings: not many besides the fact that there is lots of cute fluff, mention of spiders, and Beetles, and that’s it!

Word count: 700

A/n: this is super short but I hope you guys enjoy! ❤️❤️❤️

Spencer rushed out the front door quickly after hearing your blood-curdling scream. There You stood on one of the chairs book in your hand.

“Y/n, what's wrong?” he asked standing a couple feet away from you.

“It's a bug, it's really big!” you trembled. “It tried to climb up my leg,” you added tears threatening to spill.

“It's okay, let me get it for you,” he replied taking a step closer to see what kind of bug it was.

“Oh,” Spencer said as he stepped closer to the bug on the porch below you. “It's just an Eastern Hercules Beetle, it's harmless,” he said before picking it up making you shriek in horror.

“No, no, getaway, it's gross and scary,” you begged watching as Spencer walked it over to a tree in the front yard and put it on a branch.

“There, it's gone now,” Spencer chuckled. He knew he had weird phobias with germs and all but it was hilarious seeing you be so scared of a harmless little creature.

“It's not funny,” you pouted taking a step back when he offered a hug.

“No hug?” he asked eyebrows creased.

“Nope, not until you wash your hands,” you reply marching into the house with the book in your hand.

“Fine then,” Spencer mumbled before washing his hands in the kitchen and following you into the living room.

“Okay, you can hug me now,” you say smiling as he wrapped his arms around you in a large hug. “You're my night in shining armor you know that?” you ask smiling once again.

“Just because I picked up a harmless Beatle that you accused of terrorizing you?” he asked smirking into your neck.

“Yup, I'm honestly more afraid of bugs than I am Hotch, and that's saying something,” you say giggling before Spencer pulls away from the hug.

“No way, I think hotch is much scarier,” Spencer replies before sitting down on the sofa, gesturing for you to join him.

You sat next to him and he pulled you on top of him allowing you to rest your head on his chest.

“To help you get over your fear of bugs we are going to watch a documentary about them!” he announced clicking on some insect video and pressing play.

“This is going to give me worse nightmares than any case I've ever worked on,” you groaned eyes widening as a tarantula appeared on the screen.

“On no, not a spider,” you groaned before the narrator started.

“The funnel web spider is incredibly venomous. This Australian spider has a venom that is packed with 40 different toxic proteins. Though a bite from one of these creatures is certainly capable of killing a human, no deaths have been reported from a funnel web spider in Australia since 1980.” the narrator spoke before the images of the bites from one appeared on the screen, making your stomach churn.

“No, no more, I would much rather have to deal with my fear of bugs than continue to see that gross monster on the tv,” you groaned standing up.

“To be fair, I'm pretty sure I put the wrong one on,” Spencer replied before standing up and following you to the bedroom.

“We should just cuddle,” you spoke before climbing into your bed and crawling under the sheets. Spencer crawled in beside you, wrapping his arms around your waist. The two of you sat in silence for a while before you felt something crawling up your legs.

Of course, right after the documentary. You tapped Spencer's shoulder only to find out he was sleeping.

The light crawling continued before Spencer jumped up out of bed and chuckled at the sight of you curled up in a ball too scared to see what might have been crawling on your leg.

“I got you, you should see the look on your face!” he laughed before sliding back into bed.

“Not funny,” you scolded eyebrows furrowing.

“It totally was,” he replied as you laid your head in the crook of his neck.

“Your adorable,” he spoke running his hands softly through your hair. “I love you, you know that?” he asked kissing your forehead.

“I love you too,” you smiled.

“Even though I think the fact you are terrified of bugs is hilarious?” Spencer asked his hand resting on your lower back.

“Even though you think it's funny and it's not,” you replied pecking his lips gently.

[jolalibrary]

no need for mistletoe

frankie morales x f!reader | masterlist

summary: all of that led to this. The now. Eyes staring at him as he stands in front of you in a moss-green shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, curls not buried by a hat. “Hi.” “Hi,” you reply, before he’s ushering you in.

warnings: fluff, soft!frankie, first kisses, christmas vibes, lil’ flirting. brief mention of Frankie being a dad. wordcount: 2.6k

to @nothoughtsjustmeds - merry christmas from me, to you. you gave such amazing prompts, i tried to include as many as i could, and here it is. i hope you love this as much as i heart you.

When the cab comes to a stop, you find yourself outside of a very nice house, on a very quiet street.

Dropping your gaze down to the address on your phone, swallowing. Your nerves suddenly begin doing their thing to your gut again. Working. Gnawing at your insides as you flick your gaze back up to the number on the mailbox.

That’s when you take in the little ‘Santa Stop Here’ sign stuck into the perfectly maintained grass, the faux snow footprints which lead up to the porch and the array of twinkling lights that set this one out against all the others.

And, honestly, it’s just what you imagined from his home.

Not that it stopped the nerves from swirling, doubling up inside you—apprehension having begun to mount itself on top of worry.

Taking a deep breath, you pull out some notes, paying with a smile, before stepping out with a keep the change—and a Merry Christmas—and a slam of the cab door.

It takes everything within you not to yank the door open and get back inside. Even more not to turn and look at the driver, to not show how nervous you were.

Instead, you stare ahead. Steadying yourself as tyres crunched gravel, silence washed itself over you.

And then you were alone. No way of turning back—not without a phone call and another long wait.

Glancing around, you hover your eyes over the homes on either side of the one you’re standing outside of. Noticing the differences in how they’re dressed, how subtly was more one style and perfectionism the other.

This house looked entirely different. And, even if your fingers shook as you clutched your phone, a smile still managed to cut through. Your mind concocting images of the boys all banding together to hang lights, orders being flung—reminiscent of when they’re all attempting to train Benny (all at fucking once).

Biting down on your lip, you blow out a nervous breath—because you’re here now. No point in dwelling. You just need to walk up, rap your knuckles on the door and say hello. Simple. Easy.

Yet, it takes another minute to place one foot in front of the other. Hand stuffing your phone into your pocket as you—the heels of your boots catching on the stone path, cautious not to smudge the prints that lead the way to his front door.

It had Benny who had told you the more the merrier. But would more mean you?

You who barely knew much about them. Outside the version of them you see at the gym.

The one you had inherited, been given, had handed to you—it’s what your dad would have wanted being said when the keys—all heavy and scary—were placed in your palm. No business knowledge, just given the tip to be good to the regulars—the regulars mainly being Benny, his brother and his friend.

It had begun with letting him in at odd hours. Then you’d gotten Will’s number, for when he was in town, for when he needed access to the gym to help his brother train.

Then, when their visits became more routine, that’s when you began staying later to do “admin”—code for wanting to be around just in case.

The just-in-case is the reason half your wardrobe is dumped on your bed and your nerves are frantic from the cab ride over.

Teeth nipping at your lip, you second-guess the bottle in your hand—the little paper bag of treats you’d managed to grab before the store closed. You begin to re-question your outfit, whether you were over or underdressed, whether he’d be mad that his friend just invited you—

A flurry of thoughts, all rushing around like snow in a storm. All landing, thickening at your feet, burying you deeper and deeper in doubts and worries until you’re shrouded in light.

It’s warm, almost pearlescent as it illuminates the wooden porch you’re standing on.

It was cliche, very romance-novel the way the two of you met. Him having stepped through the gym door, lit up by sunlight, hands stuffing his t-shirt into the back of his jeans. All broad, loose curls and dark features—and a shy smile that only slowly broke out across his face.

From there it was little waves. Your eyes linger on his fingers, the length, the way they appear worn, weathered—and sometimes accompanied by a band-aid, sometimes close to skin colour and others with cartoons on.

It’s a while until names are shared and exchanged. Until you can put together an idea of the man who always wears a sun-scorched hat and clothing from a colour palette you’ve named him.

Then, you learn little things. That he likes listening to vinyls, that he has a son, that he likes the idea of working out but prefers to keep fit by building things.

What kind of things? Anything. Anything? Anything.

It’s how the conversation first began when he’d offered to build you a bookcase. A small one—easily tucked away behind the counter you’re often perched at and he’s often leaning against. Pointing out that he always sees you with a book, and that you must have a pile of them at your feet.

That’s when you learned he was astute, too.

All of that led to this. The now.

Eyes staring at him as he stands in front of you in a moss-green shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, curls not buried by a hat.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” you reply, before he’s ushering you in.

You hear the laughter from another room before the door is closed. Frankie hovers, taking the wine and the paper bag as you slide off your coat. His face flushed, eyes staring at you before you watch him swallow, mouth opening, but you beat him to it—

“Thank you… for not minding that Benny invited me over.”

Nodding, he smiles. “Well. I asked him to invite you.”

“Oh?”

Looking at his feet, he smiles—soft, more sly. “M’really glad you could make it.”

"Well, Merry Christmas Eve?"

Licking his lips, he seems to swallow. "Merry Christmas Eve."

There’s something intimate about photographs, especially in frames dotted around a home.

A sea of memories displayed, the stories there, but not quite heard. Not until someone is willing to share them, to animate the frame and allow it to make sense.

Your fingers trace the air close to them, lingering on unworried smiles, spotting the beginning signs of the lines you’ve come to admire.

In your wildest fantasies, you never thought you’d be here. Not as the hours ticked on, not even when the brothers bid their goodbyes, and you suggested going with them.

You don’t have to. No? No.

So you didn’t. Hovering in the living room as Frankie bids them goodbye. You hear the sounds of claps on the back, and boisterous goodbyes quickly hushed before they exchange plans for tomorrow. You’re distantly aware the door closes, and that there are approaching footsteps, but you don’t drag your eyes from the set of photos on the shelves.

“I’m sorry for… them.”

Grinning, you sip from your glass. “You don’t have to. I like them.”

Nodding, Frankie folds his arms, leaning in the doorway, your fingers still ever so close to one of the photo frames—one of five men, him in the middle, three out of the five recognised, the other two a mystery.

“Your son is adorable,” you say, glancing up at him, finding his eyes creasing as a grin adorns his face. “He has your smile.”

Letting the words wash over him, you take another sip, letting the taste coat your tongue, and smother over your bottom lip—all the while holding his gaze. The one unmoving, all unwilling to tear itself away from yours. It charges the air, and makes it vibrate. Forces the hairs on the back of your neck to stand up, and knots something in your stomach. All as heat blooms across the rest of you, up your neck, smearing itself across your chest.

Because he’s given you this stare a few times. But, never for this long.

Not this constantly, either.

It hasn’t ever made your throat feel this dry, not able to quench it even as you pour more liquid down it; it hasn’t ever quite made your ears burn, always just cheeks.

“You want to see my garden?” Narrowing your eyes, you watch him walk backwards, heading to his coat hook. “Heard you can see a lot of stars tonight.”

Smiling, you nod. Simple, fucking easily. Taking the jumper outstretched to you—fingers brushing over his, just lightly, a spark of something streaming up your wrist as his lips part.

A part of you, one full of longing and need, hopes he felt it too—wishing for it. More so, as you pull his jumper over your head, trying not to noticeably inhale as the warmth settles on your skin, and finds a home in your bones. You’re coated in him, both physically in his clothing and his scent. The one which lingers when he leaves your desk and you have always wished to bottle.

“C’mon,” he whispers, a twinge of nervousness to his tone.

So you do follow. Jacket under his arm as he grabs two bottles from the side—your hand placing your glass down, twirling the ends of his jumper around your fingers, letting him lead the way out, his foot propping open the door so you can head out first.

And he’s not wrong.

The sky is littered with them, soft twinkles thousands of miles away, looking down on the two of you as your warm breath makes spirals appear in front of you—slow wisps of steam that carry themselves to the few clouds floating past.

“You doing much tomorrow?”

You don’t know why you ask it, cringing inwardly. Because tomorrow is the twenty-fifth, and it’s obvious, even more so the more you think about it, that he’ll have his son. Likely to be somewhere for dinner from the conversation overheard.

Frankie steps closer, shoulder practically close to yours, recalling what you’d overheard, layering more information—sharing how he’ll pick his son up at lunchtime, bring him back to open presents, and then they’ll be off to Benny’s. He goes overboard, surprise, surprise.

Your laugh fills the air, somehow unsurprised until Frankie asks you what you’re doing.

“Um, well. I’m usually alone for Christmas—well, except for the other gym goers who also hate the holidays.”

Snorting, Frankie slides the jacket in his hand around your shoulders. Your eyes glance from the swings and slide to meet his gaze.

Iit’s warm when you do. All warm cocoa, digging into you, soaking you in something you’re trying to translate. Whatever it is, it makes your heart flutter in your chest, forces heat to rise up your neck again—kissing your cheeks, your ears.

“You should…” his hand rises, rubbing the back of his neck as he sighs. “Shouldn’t be alone.”

Rolling your lips, you gaze back over his garden—the small space you imagine only looks this good because of him. A small paradise, perfectly painted. Lit up by more strung lights and little lanterns plunged into different flowerbeds.

You smile at the swingset—the one made from mismatched wood. Your thoughts concoct an image of him building it, brushing his curls back from his forehead.

“You look really pretty,” he whispers.

And the words make your head turn, tentative, wary.

“Wish there was mistletoe.”

Your heart pounds and it distils the nerves. You don’t have to force it, it bleeds naturally over your lips—a smile which smudges over your face, and makes your hand place your bottle down on the ledge.

It’s quiet—oh, so quiet—as you turn to face him fully. Body turned, heart thundering in your chest, all suddenly empowered, awake, bold.

The thrum of one chance dancing with the blood in your veins.

“You don’t… you don’t need mistletoe, Frankie.”

“No?”

Shaking your head, you let out a breath.

Letting it fog the air, swirling itself out into the night as you clutch his jacket around your shoulders, watching him move.

It’s breathless the way he says okay. It’s swallowed by the soft slant of his mouth over yours. It’s instant, the way warmth spreads out through you. Made all the more powerful by accompanying fairy-light touches to your skin, allowing your body to curl into him.

Then, it deepens, your lips finding his with more purpose, more intention. His palms cup your cheeks, and like his gaze, his mouth is like fire. It rushes into your mouth, filling your chest and fanning its way out to your outer edges. It’s dizzying, magical—almost worthy of a foot rising off the ground or floating away into the clouds.

Your hands clutch at his shirt, balling it in your fingers as it turns messy, needy—all heated and desperate.

Then, you both part. Barely a slither of space between both your faces, his eyes opening, smothering you in something which makes a tangled coil of need tighten inside of you.

“Wanted to do that for a while,” he whispers, the tip of his nose brushing against yours.

“I’ve wanted you to do that for a while.”

His fingers lightly skate over your cheek, thumb drawing light circles on your chin.

“You got any plans for the 27th?”

Shaking your head, you smile. “Just the gym.”

“Okay. I’m taking you out on our second date.”

Frowning, you begin to grin. “Second?”

Dropping his hand from your face, Frankie places a chaste kiss on your lips. One that makes you want to chase him for more, but the growing gap following it prevents you.

“Yeah, the first is me going inside, grabbing us a plate with some pizza on, and sitting under the stars. If… if that sounds okay?”

Biting your lip, you nod. “It sounds perfect.”

He grins, hand brushing over his chin as he takes a step back. Your hand digging for your phone, the screen illuminating, as you hear him pull open the back door of his place.

“Oh, and Frankie?” His eyes look over at you, wide, beautiful—a mixture of sudden worry and dread filling them. “Merry Christmas.”

Turning to flash him your phone, the minute just passing midnight, you smile—removing the fear in his eyes, making them widen, and grow.

He thinks. Ponders.

Can see it in the way his eyes narrow and a line appears between his brows. Then, the door in his hand meets the frame, and the soles of his boots hammer on the decking, before he closes the gap to you within four strides, your face in his hands, lips pressed to yours.

“A kiss from you is the best gift I could have ever have gotten,” he whispers, between stealing your breath.

Swallowing, you roll your lips—tasting the beer from his lips on your own. “And a date with you is all I wished for.”

an: i really want a pizza under the stars with frankie now

[ronearoundblindly]

The Right Partner (2/3)

Steve Rogers x lab tech!Reader

Take My Whole Life, Too, Part One (see previous or series)

Summary: Your honeymoon with Steve Rogers begins.

Warnings for vague smut (don't worry, I make up for it in pt2), cuteass!Steeb being extra, unrealistic adorable sh*t, and my complete lack of shame about it. MINORS DNI. There is plenty for you to read on my Light Masterlist instead, but this one isn't for you! WC 3.1k

It’s bright and loud.

Well, there is light—a pale blue that gnaws at your heavy eyelids—and the song of birds.

The birds are, frankly, irrationally aggressive even for late morning.

You groan and turn over toward the inside of the tent, hoping for an hour more of darkness, maybe two.

Dehydrated. That’s what this heavy, sluggish feeling is. You should have had twice the water you managed to drink yesterday. No one would fault you for having other priorities on your wedding day though.

Your fingers branch out to find the bed empty.

From your exposed shoulder beyond the comforter, you gauge it is quite chilly here wherever you are. You didn’t even ask Steve if he found out what state (or country) you two landed in. Who cares? You burrow deeper, peeking over the thick quilted seam to see—

“What are you doing?”

Steve’s back is to you when you hear a metallic clatter in the utility sink. He whips around in just his boxers, raising a hand to cover his mouth and garble out “nothing.”

You’re prone and below eye level to the countertop, so you sit up to look while Steve poorly hides his sin by leaning over the surface.

He swallows heavily.

“You want some tea,” he rushes to ask in a failingly casual tone. “I’ve got water heating.”

“Steven Grant Rogers,” you jump up to stand on the mattress, knocking your head against the springy ceiling, and step down. “Are you eating our wedding cake without me?”

“You wouldn’t even give me some yesterday,” he whines, placing himself protectively between your approach and the confection. His guilty brows raise with sincerity.

“Oh, please! You got cake, and then you—” you poke his bare chest, glancing at the now quarter-demolished top tier “—you complained it wasn’t your flavor!”

“But…” Steve simply points. No other words come to mind based on his still-stunned expression.

“Fine,” you chuckle, relaxing to stretch your large sweater over your chilled hands and thighs, “I won’t tell anyone you’re nothing but a little sweets-thief. Hot tea sounds lovely though.”

“Allow me,” he smiles and leans in for a kiss, tasting of sugar and lemon like the night you got engaged, the night you first…oof. After just one reminder, the sweater is suddenly plenty warm.

“Thank you.”

The flood of mental images rushes from your brain, down your body, to your full bladder.

Next stop: the bathroom.

While he sorts out your morning boost, you chug a bottle of water to help with the rough, sluggish feeling weighing on you. No soreness though, which is good.

Steve returns triumphant with a camping mug and steeping, steaming wakeup juice, and you give him your own soft peck on his cheek.

No doubt he continues his dessert for breakfast the instant you step out to use the facilities aboard the jet. Good, he deserves all the cake, as much as he wants, whenever he wants.

The tiny mirror isn’t as scary as you thought it would be, but you do have to rummage around for a few straggling hairpins. A splash of cool water on your face just before you emerge is more refreshing than expected, too. The day is fresh, you are fresh, and your marriage is fresh.

You cradle the mug in your palms, making to leave, when your gown catches your eye hanging at the locker closest to the ramp, right beside Steve’s uniform.

Yesterday feels like the most wonderful, blinding blur.

All the military men (and women) wore their first uniforms, and you have to admit it created a sharp-looking bunch. Geeta’s uniform was only from nine years ago, Wilson’s just over fifteen, Rhodes’s nearly thirty, and of course, Steve and Bucky’s come in at eighty years old. Not shockingly, their uniforms were replicas, but the boys were very picky about the details.

Gracie, Natasha, Ro, Pepper, Tony and Bruce all kept their fancy dress within the same neutral palette. Morgan and Felicity were flower (leaf) girls. Standing at the alter as a bride, a groom, and their ‘besties,’ you amassed a punk, a jerk, a nerd, and a Booboo.

Your subdued red, white, and blue gown made the boldest statement of the day.

You were so worried yesterday morning. You thought the statement would read as if you were devoting yourself to an ideal, harping that you are in some ways ‘Misses America,’ but it’s more than that. You didn’t want to walk down that aisle and sign over who you are, to belong to someone else, even someone as magnificent as Steve Rogers.

Then you saw his face.

That man belongs to you as much as you belong to him. The look of pure, undiluted, delighted adoration nearly knocked you over. You’re lucky you made it through your vows. You melted inside to help your poor, fumbling Sketch with his own speech. Bucky winked once you finally got his buddy to the important bit.

Then that kiss.

Gosh, all this time you thought maybe the desperate heat of your first kiss in an evacuated AvIn hallway couldn’t be recreated—much less topped—but you were wrong. The boning in your bodice is the real hero, that’s for sure. Girl’s gotta have good support when it counts.

Speaking of being weak for a man, you think, sipping at hot tea, better get back in there. That, plus your legs are freezing.

A polaroid snaps the instant you cross the zip-up threshold, along with praises of your beauty. You blink rapidly but smile.

“What’s that?”

“Your wedding present,” Steve beams. He fakes a frown at your following ‘we weren’t doing presents’ look. “Not big ones. They’re just for fun.”

He picks up another Canon film camera, a hefty black and silver thing from his hard-sided suitcase, and hands it to you.

“Thought they’d be nice for the trip.”

You weigh it in your hands, eye the Polaroid, then switch with Steve.

“That one’s more of an artsy-fartsy Sketch thing,” you say, stepping around him with your new toy, rushing to grab toasty sweatpants from your own bag.

As you bend over to pull out the garment though, you hear a mechanical click and whip around.

Steve still faces away from you, but his head is slightly turned and he softly whistles, so of course, you lift your Polaroid and snap a picture of his ass, too. He wrinkles his nose, looking over his shoulder with an unhidden smile. You shake out the photo card provocatively while he suits up for the fireside in a sweater and jeans.

He glances at the developed shot and, seeming satisfied, plants one more kiss on your forehead.

He hums as he holds up his picture of you entering the tent, thumb tracing the line of your hip exposed like it was on the glossy magazine pages after your bear debacle.

“Yes, ‘m out there distracting all the wild animals,” you joke.

“It’s working,” he mutters. “Hungry, Misses Rogers?”

Yeah, you think, but you’ll need fewer clothes again. Instead, your stomach gurgles in response.

“Why? Do I finally get some cake?”

“Just a taste.” He kisses your lips, which you lick immediately after. “But I was thinking more like eggs. The fire’s ready.”

Your stomach growls louder. “Shhh, peanut gallery.”

Steve puts a hand over your stomach, chuckling. “At least she’s honest.”

The light pressure of his wide palm lingers even when he steps out to the camp ground. It triggers a potent flash of life with him.

You’ve spoken about kids and it will happen (or at least you’ll try) in due course, but he’s come home from missions with doubts about bringing children up in this world. What matters to both of you is having each other, and you know he’d be enough good and love for your lifetime. Even though you can always revisit the issue, that deep flutter ravages your gut while you watch him cook breakfast.

With another hunger pang, you remember how your stomach voicing her opinion is one of the reasons you’re together. One, solitary growl started the first real night of hanging out with Steve. Without it, he wouldn’t have shared a leftover meal (and cake—hint, hint, buddy), he wouldn’t have let you in his apartment, he wouldn’t have driven you and your car home the next morning, and he wouldn’t have given you some of his own clothes to wear.

You pull the sleeves of his sweater over your chilling hands and bury your nose in the fabric, inhaling deeply.

You wonder which one of those incidental, accidental moments was the tipping point, whether removing just one experience of you would have stopped Steve from seeing you, stopped him from loving you.

After a while, you pick up the polaroid. You can see his ease through the lens. Steve is in his element, chatting away while preparing a meal, planning what you two can do together next, complimenting how you look in his sweatpants and meaning it so profusely that his eyes light up whenever he looks your way.

You thought you caught it on camera, all of him, all of his happiness, but the shot isn’t close enough to do it justice. Your heart will just have to remember.

Yes, Steve Rogers on his own is more than enough. He is the gift. He’s your treasure.

You can’t decide what you want to do next, but a strong shiver running through you gives a hint: get warm.

Eggs are a good start.

When the food is done, Steve refills your tea and makes his own.

You snuggle up into the covers of the bed again, leaning your head into the dip of Steve’s sternum, using your furnace husband to full effect. The birds aren’t so annoying now. The air is so crisp and refreshing, laced with the smell of Steve’s skin. The rise and fall of his chest is so soothing as you sip and ponder the future.

Steve fiddles with the dials on the vintage camera above you. That’s the last thing you remember before waking up again, this time wrapped in his warm, toasty arms.

For once, he hasn’t woken up yet. He’s stretched, out-cold and perfectly content, unmoving as you wiggle out of the covers.

He never rests in the middle of the day, so you have to capture his sleepy form, eyes still tucked beneath the comforter, keeping the light out for just a little longer. He’s so beautiful.

Your husband is so beautiful.

Steve desperately wants to take the wedding presents for a spin out in the woods, so the afternoon is entirely consumed by a hike.

The Polaroid makes too much noise for wildlife and can’t focus on the tinier details among the branches and leaves, so you settle for jotting down some fanciful descriptions that come to mind and watch him sneak closer to birds, bugs, and color-changing foliage.

He gets so distracted with excitement that you two walk much farther than intended. Steve insists on carrying you the last few miles of your return, and you spend the entire piggyback ride with your chin tucked over his shoulder, your cheek against his neck, quietly discussing what you’d like to change in your lives now that you’re officially married.

Nothing. The answer is nothing.

Nothing needs to change because you two are the exact same people as forty-eight hours ago. Perhaps the rings on your fingers mean more for your life, but they just transmuted the love already in existence to matter.

Steve’s bright blue eyes go dreamy with philosophizing.

Your husband is beautiful, smelling of fresh air and optimism.

Steve refuses to miss another sunset, so you two lay in the hammock before lighting your evening fire.

You snuggle and chat, teasing each other, telling stories. You watch the Milky Way bloom to life above you.

Something Steve never figured out was how the Team knew about his plan to propose. He’s been going over it and over it, but he can’t see where he gave himself away. Steve says, when he asked Bucky yesterday in the men’s ready room, Bucky smirked.

Apparently, Steve, only once while you two dated, told his friend “there’s an order to these things,” and that was enough. Buck knew Steve’s intentions immediately, watching for the signs, the clues. Everyone understands that for a long time now Steve has resented his birthday is a holiday—not in a disrespectful way, but it annoys him that the day is already a big, loud affair,—and the whole group guessed (correctly) Steve would rather replace the symbolism with his own meaning.

“And hey,” Steve rumbles, faking Tony’s nonchalance as he quotes the billionaire playboy, “if you chickened out, fireworks are fireworks.”

His added shrug for effect shifts you and rocks the dangling net.

“Almost did, didn’t you?” you chuckle. “Chicken out?”

Your husband’s whole body tweaks harshly.

“You know I was scared shitless, Keeps! Almost fainted.”

“Or at least fell off your one knee…”

His hands fly up to scrub at his stubbled face, pinning you. “Oh! It was so bad,” he groans.

You sit up carefully in the wobbly fabric of the hammock, barely suppressing more laughter, and pound a flat palm at his chest. “It’s ok, soldier. You got the job done. We got there in the end.”

Steve’s hand covers yours, his peaceful smile glowing in the soft starlight.

He reaches to cradle your cheek, sweeping a delicately callused thumb over your skin.

“I almost can’t believe it,” Steve says quietly.

“Believe what?”

He could mean the beauty of the sky, or that Tony knocked it out of the park with your escape of a honeymoon, or that he didn’t croak instead of getting through all those mental and physical hurtles to be with you. You’re just not sure. Personally, you’ve ‘almost not believed it’ since the Captain America started talking to you, so it’s hard to judge.

Steve doesn’t answer right away. His voice grows even softer. “Happy. That’s all.”

Your heart breaks and mends in an instant.

“You can’t believe you’re happy?”

He goes shy, ducking then raising his gaze even higher towards the treetops. He clears his throat before admitting, “I lead…an unusual life. Not many would want this.”

“I dunno. Seems pretty nice to me,” you giggle.

“Yes, but—“ he pulls you into his chest and squeezes “—I get no guarantees. Not like others. We couldn’t even set a date. We could have been waiting years to get married.”

It’s your turn to shrug.

“You got something else to do?”

“No,” he sighs, “just more of this.” He nudges your body closer and closer to his, until all your arms and legs are tangled together. “As much as possible. I only meant…I love you.

“I love you, and I don’t think I had any faith left that I would find you.”

You. Not someone like you. Not someone for him.

You.

Even without a fire, even without sunlight, even without shelter surrounding you, Steve provides everything you could ever need: heat, comfort, safety. He provides, and it’s only right that he should have the favor returned.

Happiness. That’s what this is. Happiness that wasn’t guaranteed. Happiness that wasn’t expected. Happiness that was hard-earned.

Your muscles shiver and your skin tingles, all with need of him. “Sweetheart,” you whisper, clawing at his sweater.

He knows. He sees. He feels it, too.

When Steve lunges to kiss you though, the hammock swings with your combined weight and tries to topple you.

You giggle and squeal, flipping out and onto the ground with zero grace, and he follows.

Steve crawls over you, starlight and the glow from the tent painting his face in primary colors.

“Here, Mrs. Rogers?” He fakes shock. “In the dirt?”

“You fucked me on that picnic table just last night,” you joke, a dark, taunting edge to your voice which he matches.

Steve leans in again. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t.”

He holds your gaze, his focus flickering to your lips while the crickets’ song roars around you.

It sounds silly after all you’ve done to get Steve out of his shell, but what you crave most in this moment is the familiar, traditional love-making that he offers best. His tenderness leads you on a merry dance not unlike long wilderness walks. He’s consumed by discovery and attention to how you feel in that very second. To him, you change as frequently as the landscape. He yearns to explore what’s the same, what’s new.

Steve never phones-in sex. He never just goes through the motions. Somehow, he makes an art of reevaluating your body, your pleasure, each and every time. He’s the proof vanilla is an infinite flavor.

But…

That doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy the chase.

Steve is leaning in to kiss you when your knee raises to his chest, halting his progress. You bite your lip and scramble to the ‘door’ of the tent. Obviously, he lets you win because he could easily have snatched you into his grasp.

Steve’s laugh stays close, but he follows all the way to the bed.

There’s something to be said about a good ol’ fashioned undressing, garment by garment, that dance of who leads and how much they touch the other as each piece of clothing falls away. Steve’s become a very good dancer.

Nothing is rushed. Nothing is missed.

He doesn’t combine the acts of maneuvering you and dragging open mouth kisses along your skin. He moves you, and then he lingers.

Time spent mapping you is time well spent to Steve Rogers.

You’re drunk on him. High on him. It’s an out-of-body experience that has you watching his broad back curve sharply while he thrusts and traces your collarbone with his tongue, noticing your toes seize up from force of your first orgasm, and admiring how fine his ringed finger looks laced in with yours and pinned over your head.

No one leaves the tent. The evening fire never gets started.

After a long and sweaty fuck in the bed, you’re filthy, gathering food for Steve who’s hungry, following you around with wipes. It’s comical how thoroughly you try to take care of each other.

No. Sit still. No. Let me just grab this. No. Fine. Together?

You two finish the top tier of cake after cleaning off…because Steve Rogers is the most stubborn, beautiful, and optimistic husband.

[Next Part]

[Main Masterlist; Fools Rush In Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

[scaryvbachelorettes]

𓈈 ✦ ⎯⎯Haley⎯⎯ ✦ 𓈈

Cw; Stalking, obsessive behaviour, fucked up bachelorettes, breaking in, scary art

She couldn't remember the second her love turned sick. 

Blue eyes were set on your soft smile, that goofy smile that turned her stomach inside out. She felt sick.

At first, it was simple curiosity, a new farmer in town, something exciting in the constant cycle of boredom in her life. Then curiosity turned to crush and crush turned into obsession. 

Haley is one of the bachelorettes who are acutely aware of how bad their behavior is.

Her obsession started when you stumbled back to her, all covered in sand and with her grandmother's heirloom tucked in your hand. At that point, she realised just how badly she needed you. 

A snap of a picture rang across the silent forest. Haley cursed, she hated how loud her old camera was sometimes. Your head turned around, your beautiful eyes slightly wide with confusion. She felt her skin tingle excitedly, her back pressed to the bark of the tree as her chest rose and fell to the rapid beat.

A much softer whirl comes from the camera she gripped in her hands. A blackened sheet came out, an image of a farmer forever captured. Only for her. Only hers. 

She won't see the result until later, her body slumped over the photo as it slowly revealed the image under the harsh red light. She would look at it for hours, her breathing uneven, taking in your form basking in the sun. 

She feels a strange sense of satisfaction, she could indulge without freaking you out, without scaring her poor farmer. So what if she has dozens of photos shot, hidden all over her room? There is still room for more, there are just so many little things about you she needs to capture. Your laughing lines, your eyes, the slump of your neck, the soft crease of your hips…she could go for hours.

So why did it feel…wrong? She tried justifying it so much it started to feel like an excuse. 

It started with harmless photos, a quick snap of a camera when she saw you in town. Of course, she asked your permission, of course she did. 

Then she didn't, then she started coming to the farm to take pictures of your unsuspecting form. Haley then somehow started getting into your home at night. She likes to think it's an artistic thing. Leah does so too! 

The soft whirr of the camera was now almost a background noise for you, usually people that slept couldn't hear much anyway. Haley stood over the bed, her hands trembling, her finger pressed tight to the button of the click. She felt a smile tug at her lips, blue eyes so dark they blended with the shadows in your bedroom. 

Why did you have to be so nice? She deliberately pushed you away and acted out her mean persona just so you could leave her alone. Then you started gifting her sunflowers, saying they reminded you of her. Yoba above.

Maybe it was your fault, you were one of few people that entered her heart and decided to burrow so deep she couldn't sleep without your photo under her pillow. 

She felt lonely since her parents left to cruise, her grandmother's death worsening it. Then you appeared, all sweet and sugary, waiting outside of her house all day just to say hi. Who does that? The farmer must have something for her, something deep and as sickening as what she harbored. She hoped you did, hoped that what she did was normal. 

It was kinda funny that she called you weird when she first met you. You felt more normal now, a naive little farmer. She felt sick though, sick to the core. 

୨ Bonus pics ୧

[wanderlustqueen-writes]

Merry Christmas! This is my gift to my lovely friend and secret santa @youre-ackermine. I hope you like it Val ❤️🎁

@levihanweek thanks for organizing this event!

Meet Cute (But Make It Scary)

Pairing: Levi Ackerman/Hange Zöe (Attack on Titan)

Ratings: SFW.

Warnings: Swearing; Well-meaning tackling (?)

Genre: Fluff

Additional tags: Attack on School Castes AU

Wordcount: 2,1k

Summary: Levi Ackerman gets locked inside the School one night, completely alone. Or so he thinks...

Once again, Levi Ackerman was the last person to leave the workplace. The new hire of Paradis High stood in the employee’s locker room as the world outside ended in deluge. The noise of heavy rain filled the empty room, and the droplets hit the egress window so fast that it was nearly impossible to discern anything through the glass.

The image of the other janitors stranded in a bar waiting for the water to stop invaded his mind. He told them it was going to rain…

Except he’d just lucked out with that prediction. The sky could have been clear and still, he would find an excuse to go home. Alone. It was just the way he was.

Levi started to zip down his janitor uniform with one hand, bringing the other one inside his locker to feel for his umbrella.

“Shit” he mumbled under his breath when he came up short. 

As if on cue, a blue light descended from the sky. The whole room was engulfed in black. 

“Shit!” Levi slammed the metal door, only to jump out a second later when the reverberating rumble of the thunder finally hit.

It was starting to feel like the setup for a bad horror movie.

Levi cursed Flagon, one of his chummier colleagues, for telling him those stories about the school.

Don’t take too long to leave after you clock out, Levi. This place is full of ghosts, especially at night. Did I ever tell you the story of the student who died in…

“Asshole” Levi mumbled.

***

The cleaning crew had used a flashlight to work on a darker section of the school’s basement the week before, and that’s what Levi was crossing the corridor to retrieve. The path wasn’t pitch black, as the emergency lighting had kicked in, but it was still far from ideal.  The lamps barely illuminated the narrow space, creating an eerie atmosphere. 

When he reached his destination, the room was so dark it didn’t matter if his eyes were open. Levi closed the door behind him with a click.

“Who is there?” a hesitant voice called from the darkness ahead of him.

Levi froze. His blood felt like liquid ice and his heart started pounding hard inside his chest in the second of silence that followed the question. His breathing picked up.

It wasn’t his imagination.

He shut his eyes hard, taking in a deep breath as quietly as he possibly could, though he was sure his heart could be heard from a mile away. Levi slowly backed up with his hands behind him, until he felt the light pressure of the wall against his fingers. His movements were silent and calculated. He slid his body to the side, always slow,  hands always lightly on the wall, until he was met with harsh resistance. He felt around the edge of the desk, lowering his digits when he found the drawer.

Levi cringed at the light noise of wood sliding against wood as he carefully pulled on the handle. From the opposite side of the table, came a choked gasp.

Fuck caution! Levi reached inside the drawer, but the only thing he felt was cold fingers wrapping around his.

“AAARGHH!!” they yelled in unison.

The hands repelled each other immediately! Levi opened the door wide and sprinted through it, stumbling on his own feet. Suddenly a dancing yellow beam revealed the corridor before him. Levi took the opportunity to run faster, no longer hindered by the low lighting.

But the ring of light kept moving forward too. In fact, it seemed to be going faster than him. And the sound of steps he thought were just from him now seemed to also belong to someone else, someone close.

“Wait!” the voice called from close behind him. He looked back for a split second. White clothes. Brown hair all over the place. Crazy wide eyes. Fuck. Levi boosted again.

“Slow down!”

“The fuck I will!”

“I swear, I won’t hurt you!”

He didn’t respond, all his energy on his feet. Running. Running. Run-

He crashed flat on the ground like a starfish, crushed by the weight of whoever tackled him. Levi struggled like a bull trying to knock over a cowboy, to no avail. The weight lifted off of him for one second, enough for Levi to turn over and face his assailant. He was met with a blinding light.

“Who are you?” the voice sounded more composed now. It was low and rich, Levi tried to free himself again. The person above him sighed.

“I’m Hange. I work here." The flashlight turned 180º. Through the yellow stains in his vision, left behind by the light, Levi got a look at the person straddling his hips. Strands of brown hair were glued to their face. Ghosts don’t sweat, right? And the white clothing he got a quick look at before was a lab coat. “I’m the chemistry teacher. And you are a janitor, I assume?”

Levi remained silent.

“I’m sorry I tackled you.” Hange began explaining “It’s just that you were running in the dark and the doors of this corridor are locked” then pointed the light at the double doors not 3 meters before him “Good thing I stopped you, or It would’ve been bye bye to this perfect face.” Hange booped his nose.

“Tch. Get off of me” he struggled under the strange teacher again.

“If you tell me your name.”

He grunted.

“Levi.” 

Hange smiled, finally de-straddling him. Levi staggered up to his feet, moving towards the corridor doors.

“It’s locked.” Hange warned. Still, he tried to push them open.

“Told you.”

Levi clicked his tongue and began walking in the other direction.

“I’ve tried that one too. We’re stuck here.”

“Huh?” He frowned.

“It happens sometimes to workaholic idiots who don’t know when to clock out,” Hange sighed.

Levi’s head was spinning. It was all too much. He stumbled back. 

“Are you okay?” Hange was up in a second, hands all over him, lifting his arms, patting his sides and his face, searching for injuries. Levi flinched when two fingers simultaneously pressed on sore spots on his cheek and forehead.

The light was on his face again.

“Oh, you hit this side pretty hard.” Hange muttered, “This one is going to leave a nasty bump.”

Levi pushed the hand that held the flashlight away but allowed the other to rest gently on his cheek. “There’s a fridge in the teacher’s lounge, we can get you some ice! Come on!”

Several seconds of silence passed, but Levi eventually sighed in defeat.

***

“Voilá” Hange opened the door in an exaggeratedly cordial movement. “Mi casa es su casa.”

“Does su casa have any food?” Levi let his body fall on the two-person loveseat that occupied one corner of the room. Hange approached him moments later, bearing gifts. 

“Iced tea and soufflé cake or ice cream?”

Levi reached for the right, grabbing the bottle with one hand and the small Tupperware and fork with the other.

“Don't these belong to someone?”

“The power is out, so it’s our moral imperative to save this food from waste!”

Levi shrugged, leaning in to take a bite out of the treat.

“I think Nanaba has some candles in here from the rising water experiment her class did last week!”

Levi took a few sips of his drink as the strange teacher jumped from cupboard to cupboard, fleshlight in hand. Soon, the room was covered in dancing shadows cast by candlelight. The heavy rain outside created a soothing symphony. Levi crossed his legs, supporting the cake on one of his thighs. Hange sat next to him, with a few ice cubes wrapped in a dishcloth.

“Is this clean?”

“Of course! Fresh out of the cupboard.”

Hange laid the improvised cold pack gently on his cheek, then on his forehead.

“You think we’ll be in trouble for staying in?” He took a sip of his drink, looking at his new acquaintance out of the corner of his eyes.

“Only if we get caught” the reply was casual “I usually hide in the teacher’s bathroom when I hear someone coming. Then I just have to wait a few minutes and make sure no one else is in the room before I  exit. The timing is tricky though, no room for errors.”

He almost choked on his iced tea.

“How many times have you done this?”

“Don’t know. Lost count.” Hange shrugged.

“Why?”

“The lab is my favorite place in the world. Well, that and this lovely room right here” Hange joked but something vulnerable lurked behind the feigned chuckle. Levi turned to face the teacher, who continued “I also don’t have much else going on in other parts of my life. This is the closest thing I had to a date in… I don’t know… a year and a half?”

Levi’s cheeks felt warm, and he was grateful for the warm tones of the lighting in the room. To his surprise, he found himself saying:

“Eight months.”

He tilted his bottle to touch Hange’s ice cream cup.

Hange laughed, sincerely this time. The sound was low, bubbly, irregular. It was the weirdest combination of strange and familiar that made something resonate deep within him.

“What a couple of losers we are.”

“Yeah,” Levi replied, still stunned by the feeling.

***

“We should try and get some sleep.” Levi proposed, as the rain died out, and Hange nodded.

Except they didn’t. For some reason, whenever one of them stopped talking, the other broke the silence. Hange talked excitedly about the experiments the class did that day. Then Levi complained about the mess of the students and how some of the staff half-assed the cleaning. Hange nearly died laughing when Levi explained he ran because he thought he was being chased by a ghost but, for some reason, he didn’t mind. He liked it. 

***

“I guess we won’t be needing these anymore.” The chemistry teacher blew the candles on the little center table before them, as the morning light entered the room, filtered by the blinds.

“I guess we won’t.”

“So, we’ll be out of here soon,” Hange commented.

“Yeah, I guess we will.” Levi turned to face his newfound friend. Now that the sun was up, he could see Hange’s features clearly. Smooth light skin. Strong, slightly convex nose. Brown chaotic hair that somehow fit the whole picture. Deep brown eyes one could get lost in and lips so full, so soft looking.

He averted his gaze when he realized he was staring, but it was too late. There was already a strange charge in the room, hovering over them. It was slightly uncomfortable but also exhilarating. The tension that precedes a leap into the unknown. Levi gulped, creating the courage to look at Hange again. Brown eyes stared right back at him. His heart picked up the pace as he moved forward. Hange moved too, tongue peeking out to moisten those lips. He could feel the heat emanating from them. Any second now.

A loud clanking outside made them jump in surprise.

“It’s the doorman!” Hange whispered. They both ran for the window. As one man unlatched the gate, another stood behind him.

“That’s Erwin, the history teacher!” Hange whispered as though they could hear them talking from that distance. “He always comes here first thing in the morning! Quick! Hide!”

They ran to the bathroom, hiding behind the partially closed door.

There was a creek. Then slow steps. Then the sound of a refrigerator door opening. Then silence.

“Is he gone?” Levi mouthed.

The chem teacher peeked through the crack and nodded negatively. Then frowned.

“What is it?”

There was a moment of silence. Then, in what can only be described as an oopsie face, Hange mouthed “I think he’s looking for his souffle cake”.

Levi caught the laughter last minute, letting out only a strangled snicker. Meanwhile, Hange was all silent open mouthed-chuckles, which intensified when Erwin rested his chin on his hand in a stoic pose while examining the empty fridge.

By the time the room was clear, they were both out of breath. Levi and Hange stepped out of the bathroom, looking each other in the eyes. The moment was gone, but there was a tinge of promise in the air. Hange spoke first.

“So, I’ll be bumping into you from now on?”

Levi shrugged. “if you’re lucky.”

Hange laughed and, once again, they ran out of words. Levi moved towards the door, but as he took a step out, he heard the teacher speak again.

“Hey, Levi!” He turned back to find Hange with the fingers of both hands crossed. “See you around!”

“See ya.” Levi stepped out this time, a smirk hiding on the corner of his lips. Maybe socializing with his coworkers wouldn't be so bad, after all.

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

WIP Weekend

Weekly WIP Update

Chapter 3 of Saltwater Symphony is going live later today (Friday)! I love Steve in this one, he's such a bossy, vain little diva!

I think I've finally figured out the final bit of King's Gift that was giving me trouble, so I'm very motivated to put these boys through the meet grinder some more!

20 out of 31 holiday drabbles are finished. Still need to brainstorm some ideas for the final 11, but I'm sure I'll get there.

Send me an emoji, and I'll write and share three sentences from that project.

🏰 The King's Gift

🦭 Saltwater Symphony

❄️ Steddie Holiday Drabbles

Snippet from 🏰

It takes him a while to come to process his discovery. Only when the cold of the stone floor starts to seep into his legs does he remember why he came here in the first place. He swears softly under his breath, standing and flipping open the book in hopes of finding the right page to put the photo. 

What he finds instead is his own face. 

It’s not just the smile - that slow curl of his mouth that he knows he does when someone made some stupid joke and he doesn’t want to admit he finds it funny - it’s … it’s everything else. His hair, which Eddie must’ve spent a ridiculous amount of time on, sketching out the way it falls around his face, curling lightly at the tips, light and shadow playing in the strands. The moles on his face and neck, every single one in exactly the right spot. 

An elaborate, lifelike portrait of him, done all in black ink, so large it fills an entire page. He’s in half-profile, as if he only just turned around to look at the spectator, and he’s smiling.

The image takes Steve so much by surprise that he stumbles back and lands on his ass in the window seat. 

The light in his eyes. 

It’s like looking into a mirror, and at the same time it’s not. This must be the way Eddie sees him, he realizes with a violent flutter of his stomach. Everything about this picture is soft, every line telling of longing, every stroke of the pen telling of … love. And he’s known before, of course. Has known that Eddie loves him. Not only have people told him, time and again, Eddie himself has never been exactly subtle about it, from the moment they first met. He found it strange and scary, back then, to be loved so fiercely by somebody who had never even met him before, but now? 

Now it’s still scary, but for entirely different reasons. 

Because he wants to prove himself worthy of that love. 

Because he’s mortified of what’ll happen if he doesn’t.

[curetapwater]

Madoka Magica is a very dark show but I think it often gets kinda blown outta proportion, as if it's some bloodbath just because it has onscreen deaths and dark subject matter. I'd say the violence itself is rather on par with darker episodes of Sailor Moon. Deaths happen, but it's far from a gore fest. Mami's death in episode 3, one of the most gruesome scenes in the show, is carefully framed to show no blood, no gore. The image of her body going limp and detransforming, the ribbons she'd tied up Homura with dissolving, the wide shot so far from her body that you can hardly make it out as it falls to the ground for Charlotte to finish. The focus is not "ouuuuuuu teenage girl death SCARY SCARY" but on the weight of the events unfolding. And her death is not there just for shock value, but to drop a sudden, crushing weight upon the characters she is survived by. The scene where Madoka visits Mami's apartment one last time in particular is so effective. A sink filled with dishes that will never be washed. A half-full teacup that will never be emptied. Her absence is a gaping hole in the characters' lives as much as it is a reminder of the stakes of the situation.

And other onscreen deaths are as clean as possible. The Soul Gem thing is existentially terrifying but it also lends itself to something about how PMMM handles its darkest scenes with a certain tastefullness. We don't need to watch a 14-year-old girl get ripped apart in order to understand how fucked things are. We just need to see her soul itself shatter, the light leave her eyes, her body go limp. The lack of traditionally graphic imagery allows weight to be shifted from what we are seeing to what the events unfolding mean.

One of the most visceral scenes for me is the one where Kyubey just dumps his reasoning for the magical girl system on her. On its surface, it's just a girl sitting in bed, being spoken to by an alien creature. But it's the shit he says to her. The way he talks about commodifying, using, tormenting teenage girls across human history as if it's a perfectly reasonable, pleasant conversation. The way he compares humans to livestock. The way his cheerful tone never falters as Madoka's emotional state deteriorates further and further. And GOD, the shot where she slowly grabs her head, curls in on herself before bending backwards. Just trying to process the weight of a system that extends far beyond her, across the whole world, across human history. The helplessness of it all. The way it all culminates, as the audience and Madoka herself finally understand Kyubey to be a microcosm of the way the world is stacked against young girls. That single shot rocks me to my core.

I think people who label this show "torture porn" severely miss the point. We aren't supposed to root for all the bad things happening to these characters. We aren't supposed to point and go "Haha! Foolish girls and their frivolous dreams!!" nor are we supposed to wallow in misery and cry out "Woe! The dreams of young girls are all for naught!! Hope is lost!!!" We're supposed to sympathize and connect with them. And hell if I do. I'm so glad I first watched this show when I was the same age as the characters, because this show just really speaks to me. There is a great catharsis, to me, in things like Mami's veneer of being the cool perfect girl that she desperately doesn't want to fall to reveal the vulnerable girl beneath, the way Sayaka desperately wants to save the world but jumps into things without thinking and pours from an empty cup, the way Kyoko has seemingly given up entirely on being a good person but deep down still believes that something good must exist out there, Homura's determination to try again. And again. And again. Until her love consumes her and everyone around her. And Madoka's crushing sense of helplessness, of guilt, of wanting to make the world a better place, of wanting everyone to just!!!! Get along!!!!! Please!!!!!!! And the way she overcomes this sense of helplessness with the main theme that the magical girl genre was built upon to begin with: hope.

To me, Madoka Magica is a show about how much it can absolutely suck to be a teenage girl, but in a respectful way, y'know? It's about how the world is stacked against young girls, how it uses and objectifies them and kicks them into the dirt, and how because they're still young, they often don't respond to the hand dealt to them in perfect ways. But that doesn't mean their feelings, their hopes and dreams and very souls, do not matter. If anything, I'd say Madoka Magica is about how the world isn't going to go easy on you, and your feelings about that fact are real, even if you don't respond to them perfectly. But despite it all, you have to keep going.

So yeah PMMM is a dark show but I feel like its discussion is often like "this show KILLED the magical girl genre by being DARK and VIOLENT" like. Siigh. Especially frustrating because I see this sentiment both from magical girl fans who resent the show and non-magical girl fans who laud the show because they think it's "better" than its predecessors. Maybe it had an impact on the genre in the same way that Shrek was an excellent movie whose success unfortunately gave way to trends in animated films that didn't quite get what made Shrek work. But I find it unfair to say PMMM "ruined" or even "killed" the magical girl genre. I'm unsure if I'd even call it a deconstruction, it's just its own neat thing to me. I can go back and watch Sailor Moon or Pretty Cure without feeling they've been tainted or taken down a peg. If anything, I think PMMM complements more traditional magical girl shows very nicely. I think Madoka and Usagi would love each other. I don't think a magical girl show where very bad things happen is that big a deal. What is a big deal, to me, is how excellent it is in its execution.

[psychics4unet]

🔮 What You're Not Seeing: Hidden Aspects of Your Life 🔮 Pick A Card Tarot Reading

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nstructions: Look at the 3 images of the piles below. Choose the pile that you feel most drawn to. Trust your intuition and select the one that resonates with you the most. Once you have made your choice, scroll down to read the description for the pile you selected.

I put a lot of effort into this reading, so please show some love by leaving comments, likes, reblogs, and follow me! ❤️💬✨

Pile 1:

The Hanged Man 🌿

Five of Swords ⚔️

The Moon 🌕

The Hanged Man 🌿 is telling you that there’s a situation in your life where you’re feeling stuck, but it’s also encouraging you to change your perspective. The Five of Swords ⚔️ points to a conflict or tension that you might be ignoring or not fully addressing. It could be something that’s affecting your peace, and you’re not seeing how it’s draining your energy. The Moon 🌕 reveals that there’s something hidden, perhaps a truth or a fear that’s buried deep within, making things appear more confusing than they are.

Together, these cards suggest that you may be overlooking some important emotional or mental challenges. Changing your perspective, confronting hidden fears, and addressing unresolved conflicts are crucial to bringing more clarity and peace into your life.

Love this post? Spread the positive vibes by reblogging with your favorite pile number! Remember to like, comment, and follow me for more tarot insights and spiritual guidance. By sharing this post, you'll invite positive energy from the universe into your life. Let's journey together towards enlightenment and fulfillment!

Pile 2:

Ace of Cups 💧

The Tower 🌩️

Nine of Pentacles 🌸

The Ace of Cups 💧 is overflowing with new emotional beginnings and opportunities, but you might be missing how much potential there is around you. The Tower 🌩️, though scary, indicates a sudden change or revelation that’s meant to shake things up for the better. The Nine of Pentacles 🌸 shows that self-sufficiency and enjoying the fruits of your labor are closer than you think, but you might not be fully appreciating your own achievements.

Together, these cards show that you may not be fully aware of how a sudden change could open up new emotional and material opportunities for you. Recognizing the potential in your life and embracing the shifts coming your way could lead to a more fulfilling existence.

Love this post? Spread the positive vibes by reblogging with your favorite pile number! Remember to like, comment, and follow me for more tarot insights and spiritual guidance. By sharing this post, you'll invite positive energy from the universe into your life. Let's journey together towards enlightenment and fulfillment!

Pile 3:

The Star ✨

Three of Cups 🎉

Seven of Wands 🛡️

The Star ✨ represents hope, guidance, and a sense of calm, but you may not be seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. The Three of Cups 🎉 points to friendships and celebrations, yet you might be overlooking the support system you have around you. The Seven of Wands 🛡️ is about standing your ground, but perhaps you’re unaware of how much you’ve already overcome and how resilient you truly are.

Together, these cards suggest that you may be missing out on the hope and support that surrounds you. Recognizing your inner strength and the love from those around you will help you navigate any challenges with a renewed sense of optimism.

Love this post? Spread the positive vibes by reblogging with your favorite pile number! Remember to like, comment, and follow me for more tarot insights and spiritual guidance. By sharing this post, you'll invite positive energy from the universe into your life. Let's journey together towards enlightenment and fulfillment!

Attention! This reading is for entertainment purposes only. This tarot reading does not give a 100% guarantee that all the described situations will occur or being ultimate truth. You build your own life and destiny and only you know yourself best. Remember to reblog, like, comment, and follow for more cosmic guidance and positivity!

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