#special zell tag

[zeninsama-moved]

Hate fucking with Yoshida. Just Sunday things. 😘

HATE-FUCKING WITH YOSHIDA... had to share this idea with @existentialisttrashh and rem brought up the amazing thought of hate-fucking IN FRONT OF A MIRROR so you can watch yourself get fucked by the man you hate <3 yoshida fucking all of his frustrations out on you in sharp, mean thrusts, each one jolting you forward with a gasp, gritting through your teeth "that hurts, asshole" and he merely dismisses you with a "does it?"

yoshida being a sick fuck that likes when you fight him. it gets him hard when you bite and scratch and tell him how much you fucking hate him. especially when you get that look in your eyes, glaring at him through angry tears like you actually want to kill him.

he likes to push you down, force your ass higher so his dick can press deeper, and feel your walls squeeze him, see your wetness coat his dick each time he pulls out of your cunt. he picks up his pace, fucking into you with punishing thrusts, maybe hooking his fingers into your cheek while he mocks you in the condescendingly sweet voice that you hate. "yeah? you hate me? is that why you're cumming on my dick?"

[chronically-ghosted]

Little Monsters

rating: 18+ Explicit

pairing: dieter x f!reader

word count: 5K

summary: A phone call home to your family has you missing them desperately . . . especially your husband, who always knows exactly what you need.

warnings/tags: pregnancy, Dieter has children and is actually a really good dad, director!reader, 1st half is mind numbing tooth rotting FLUFF, 2nd half is straight filth and dieter has a nasty nasty mouth, masturbation, camera/phone sex, slight breeding kink, one single use of ‘Daddy’, if I had an ounce of shame left in me I would not have posted this

a/n: special shout outs go to @spookyxsam for showing me about how babies work and to @lunapascal and @mysterious-moonstruck-musings for talking me off the daddy dieter ledge. this is my first pregnancy fic and i do not know what came over me (she lied, knowing damn good and well what happened to her brain chemistry)

from @yoursoulsunbreakable 's request: Hello sweetie, congratulations on your milestone <3 Here's my request for the little drabble: 5. “Tell me what you would want to do, if you were here right now.” With our precious Dieter and smutty? Hope it'll inspire you 😘

🤍Masterlist

“Tell me what you would want to do, if you were here right now.”

“Oh, Dieter, I’d – I’d –,”

“Yeah?”

You let out a burst of air from your lips, flopping back against the pillows. “I’d ask you for a foot rub,” you whine into the camera. 

He chuckles, the sound a bit garbled through the speakers. He leans forward into the camera, as if trying to see down your body, the angle of the phone against the hotel’s lamp not quite right. 

“Is Bravo Baby number three giving you trouble?” 

You eye your swelling feet over the steadily swelling bump. Well into your second trimester and the list of shoes in your closet you could still wear is shrinking rapidly. This also happened with your second child and when Dieter made one joke about keeping you barefoot in the kitchen, you nearly threw a butcher’s knife at his head. You stroke the left side of your stomach to preemptively soothe the little brat before they start wailing on that spot all night, sighing into your husband’s sympathetic, pixelated face. 

“They’ve been grouchy all day. Tom had to leave me in the car for a bit after we scouted a potential place for the exterior shots to finish taking pictures because somebody was having a grand old time wearing me out.” You narrow your eyes at him through the camera. “As if there was any doubt this was your child.” 

This is a constant inside joke between you. Your first kid, a girl, was a beautiful blend of both you and Dieter. His eyes, but your hair, your cheeks, and his nose. He also got to name her – said it came to him after he bought some chocolate and water at the hospital lounge –

“Zelle, Dieter, ‘Zelle’?? Like the money transaction service?” 

But you had been too zonked out on painkillers and endorphins to object (you thought it was beautiful at the time), and he signed the papers anyway. Neither of you had come up with a fitting name before then and he swears the instant he held his baby girl in his hands for the first time, it came to him, as if the stars rearranged themselves in the sky with that name. Incurably a romantic at heart – your husband – you found it sweet and also idiotic, but it was too late now. 

Your second one, Orion, had his name written down on a post-it note you carried in your purse for months and you made sure to show the nurse when you were admitted. Not that Dieter would intentionally go against the name you had agreed on if the baby was a boy, but there was a slim chance he’d get so caught up in the moment and, with watery eyes, tell the nurse to write something like Mars Bar on the birth certificate. 

And, for all that, Orion could have been a carbon copy of you.

The joke started when Dieter picked him up from his crib one night and brought that gurgling little mouth right up to his nose. “Are you sure you didn’t just spontaneously create this one? I don’t see a single hint of me in this little guy.” To which Orion giggled around a drool-damp fist and promptly bopped his father on the nose with it. 

“Are you saying you don’t remember what happened the night he was conceived?” You asked with a smirk over your shoulder as you returned some baby bibs to the drawer. 

Dieter snorted and slid Orion into the crook of his arm, those onesie-white feet seen kicking over his forearm. “Now Mommy is just being plain silly.”

That was five years ago and you couldn’t exactly deny you were excited for the smell of newborn to be all over your husband again. 

“I’ll be glad when we hit the last trimester,” he says, chin propped up on his wrist to stare down at you in his other palm, “so I can wave that doctor’s note in your face when you try to work too hard . . . like you are now.” 

You shift onto your side to face him, rolling your eyes. “You only like the third trimester for the sex hormones.” 

After spending most of your first pregnancy, and at least half of your second, trying to claw Dieter’s eyes out if he so much as breathed in your direction, he was delighted to find that by month seven, the hellcat who had taken over his wife’s body turned into a needy, whiny little kitten. 

Some of the best orgasms of his life come from those months, he swears up and down. 

“I’m not going to complain,” he grins, peering down at you from those prescription sunglasses. The Dieter you used to know wore them because he was constantly hungover; your husband wears them because he keeps accidentally misplacing his actual prescription glasses. “All I’m saying is you better be back in time so Daddy can play house with Mommy.” 

The shrill cry is heard through the phone, the closed bedroom door, and at least one hallway:

“Is Mommy on the phone?” 

Barely a second later, you watch over his shoulder as the door flings open and a wild blur of arms and legs dogpiles Dieter onto the bed. You hear him grunt, the camera flips up to the ceiling, as Zelle and Orion clamor for the phone. Chuckling to yourself, you take up the phone from the bedside table and hold it in your palm as you lean back against the pillows and your children’s faces flash over the small screen. 

“Mommy, I made a bug out of noodles and string today.”

“Mommy, I saw a cat that looked like a cow today.”

“Mommy, Daddy’s broccoli tasted funny - you cook it better!”

“Hey!” He lunges for Zelle’s little ankle and pulls her up around her waist as she giggles helplessly. 

You can barely see them, Orion’s pudgy little finger over most of the camera, Dieter’s hair and Zelle’s kicking feet visible only in flashes. 

“You better go help your sister, Orion!” 

Needing no other prompting, he drops the phone against the pillows and leaps onto his father, squealing at the noise Dieter makes. Where Orion got your looks, he had all of his father’s mannerism. You blinked twice when as a toddler Orion’s purposeful pout had looked so similar to his father’s, you wondered if they had practiced it together. Orion is ruthless when it comes to the tickle wars and immediately goes for Dieter’s neck. 

“Help!” he chokes, “I’m being overrun by tiny monsters!”

Zelle roars at his hip and Orion howls – he’d be a werewolf for Halloween a third year in a row if the tradition continued. Despite more frequent and loud protests about his poor back, Dieter lunges forward and yanks Zelle under his arm like she’s a football. He does the same to Orion and faceplants with both of them successfully pinned. It’s the oldest trick in the book and you muse what he’s going to do when they are too big to do that to anymore. But, as Dieter likes to say, one colossal nightmare at a time. 

“Peace treaty?” His voice is muffled by the blanket. 

“Stand and deliver,” they repeat, breathlessly and red faced. He lets them go and the two bodies barely move, grins still plastered to their faces. Cheeks pink, Dieter crawls over and snags the phone.

“See, darling?” he says between heavy breaths, “this parenting stuff is easy.” 

“Mommy, when are you coming home?” Zelle pops her head between Dieter and the phone, her cheek pink and her little hands pushing her hair off her face. 

“Yeah!” Orion pipes up, crawling over Dieter’s back, hooking his tiny hands over his father’s throat. Dieter’s eyes bug out for a moment before adjusting the five year old’s grip. “Are you done chasing the dragon?”

At that, Dieter snickers and you can’t glare with fire in your eyes like you’d like to so you plaster on an overly sweet smile on your face. 

“Rori, we asked you not to say that. It’s a stork, remember?” 

Orion frowns into Dieter’s curls. “But I want a baby brother or sister that comes from a dragon’s egg.” 

“Yeah, Mom, a dragon baby is way cooler than a stork baby.” 

Oh, you are going to kill him. 

This was another ongoing joke . . . for Dieter. Orion’s teacher called home one night after Orion proudly announced that his mommy was off chasing the dragon. Understandably concerned about the phrase, she called to make sure everything was alright, only to find out what he meant was that his mother was expecting a new baby and instead of a stork, his father told him that Mommy was going to find a dragon to put a new egg inside her tummy, and then the new baby would eventually pop out from the egg. 

This was something you had to relay through the phone to the teacher . . . because Dieter was curled up on the floor, laughing so hard he went mute, tears rolling down red cheeks. This had been his ‘stork’ story for Orion, and apparently unaware of just how impressionable a five-year-old is, told him that Mommy was chasing the dragon for a new egg. Dieter says his greatest regret in his life is that he wasn’t there to see the look on Orion’s teacher’s face. 

After that, you (and Dieter once he recovered) tried to alter the story enough so that he wouldn’t accidentally imply his mother was off on a drug binge, but evidently too much stuck. 

“I’m meeting with the dragon tomorrow, okay? I’m not chasing after anything. We’re having lunch. Right, Dad?”

“Absolutely.” He nods seriously at Orion and kisses that fat little cheek. 

“When is the dragon gonna give you the egg with my baby sister in it?” Zelle asks, matching Dieter on her stomach. Dieter’s confidence manifested perfectly in his daughter; you and him had told her many times that the baby might be a little brother, but she just stuck her nose in the air. “I know it’s a sister,” she said, with a characteristic roll of her eyes. 

“A couple more months, baby,” you smile, unconsciously rubbing at your stomach again. Baby Bravo is suspiciously quiet. Not soon enough. “But I’ll be home tomorrow, but you two have to be good for Dad until then, okay?” 

Orion nods from Dieter’s shoulder, but Zelle smirks up at her father in a way that is well beyond her six years.

“I promise to eat all of Daddy’s nasty broccoli!”

Dieter’s own impish nature, thrown right back at him. The one solace you found is that your husband might have finally met his match. 

He grabs her, flips her on her back, and blows a strawberry on her tummy as she shrieks with glee. 

“Alright – that’s it – it’s bath time for all naughty monsters!” He hikes Orion over his shoulder and picks up Zelle by her waist. He glances back over at you, his eyes bright and a giant smile on his face. 

You swear every time you see Orion, there’s less and less baby in his pudgy face, his little hands. Zelle is constantly saying and doing things that surprises you with the depth of their awareness and you know it doesn’t all come from you or Dieter. 

Your heart actually aches from missing them so much. 

“Monsters, say goodnight to Queen Monster–,” more yelling, roaring, “I’ll call you later tonight, okay, baby?” 

You nod, your eyes suddenly hot and tight. “O-okay – love you all.”

“LOVE YOU!” The three-headed monster yells in unison as it lumbers out of the bedroom.

You end the call, just before the tears spill. Again on your back, you stare at the ceiling feeling incredibly sorry for yourself when the baby rolls over and kicks you in the ribs. 

Hey, I’m here too!

You laugh, a little watery, and you wipe your eyes with your palms. Just get through tonight and you’re home. 

“Okay, okay, I’m up. Let’s get ready for bed, would you like that?”

It’s late. You know you should be asleep already, but the shower had taken longer than expected. The phone call with your husband and children lingered in your mind when you turned on the water and stripped down. Your heart was so full to see Orion’s pout and Zelle’s mischievous grin, especially after such a long day on your feet and for all his teasing, Dieter’s own ease and confidence as a father, as well as a husband, left you feeling . . . warm. In fact, your mind’s eye lingers on him in the memory of the call: his beautiful, rich curls – those square black glasses that made him look annoyingly mysterious and so goddamn hot – his biceps flexing as he throws around his children with ease, his shoulders broad and straining against his shirt — his bulging forearm making his triangle tattoo pop – his wedding ring that replaced all the other rings –

The good news is the baby was almost here. The bad news is that you’re suddenly irrationally horny and your all-too-eager husband was a plane ride away. 

Entirely naked besides the white hotel robe around your shoulders, you sternly ignore the plush tingling between your legs and try to focus on rubbing in lotion into your legs, your hips, over the old and new stretch marks over your stomach. Your fingers rub underneath the curve of your stomach and accidentally brush the damp curls, sending tiny shock waves up your pelvis. You gasp lowly, freezing, eyes tightly shut, fighting back that wave of arousal. 

Goddamn it. 

At first you think the ringing is between your ears, your blood rushing hard and fast, and then you realize it’s actually your phone going off.

Daddy Dieter, the screen reads.

You frown at the clock – if it’s late for you, then it’s very late for him. When he said he’d call you later, you didn’t think he meant literally later tonight. Still frowning, you put down the bottle of lotion and answer the phone.

“Dieter?” 

“Hey, baby. How’s your night?” 

He pulls back the phone and your mouth flushes with spit. He’s shirtless, sunglasses replaced with his actual glasses, that silver earring glinting in the low light. In the center of your bed, he’s propped up on several pillows with his arm tucked behind his head. He has thickened over the years, his chest and shoulders taking on a new weight as if he physically grew into fatherhood — and God, if his bicep was bulging before –

“Dieter –,” your voice is hoarse at first and you have to clear your throat to get anything out of your mouth that isn’t a whine. “Dieter, what are you doing up?”

He shrugs like he’s just been bored at home. “Bath time was easy. Orion wanted just one story and Zelle didn’t put up a fight when I told her it was bedtime and she had to put away the crayons.” 

You narrow your eyes. “Did you slip them Benadryl?” 

“Wow! No! Did you ever think that maybe I’m just that good of a dad?” He scoffs, mildly offended. And then he smirks. “I told them you’d come home sooner if they were good.”

“Ah, the old Santa Claus trick.” You nod sagely and sit down on the edge of the bed, the movement tugging the robe slightly. “Always a classic.”

“Yeah, I –,” Dieter’s eyes widen, edges going dark. “Are you naked?” 

You swallow, his sudden shift in tone causing your thighs to clench. You cross your legs as tightly as your belly will allow, your chin held high.

“I’m in a robe, Dieter. Took a long shower.”

His eyes glitter with interest, the tip of his tongue running on the edge of his bottom lip. “How long?”  

Feeling hot and swollen for months now, you flush pink, an overripe peach beneath the slightest pressure of his thumb. 

“Dieter–,” it’s a whine but you shake your head. “Please don’t tease. I’m so . . . sensitive right now, and I won’t be home until tomorrow and–,”

“Baby, baby, breathe. I know it hurts.” He sits up, his eyes big and dark. “I remember how wet you get around now.”

Your cunt drools onto the robe below you, thighs sticky, his words ringing in your ears. 

“Dieter, don’t –,”

“I know I can’t help you but what if I showed you how to help yourself?” 

You whimper, arousal now hot and warm in the pit of your stomach. The strength of it makes your pelvis ache. You know it won’t be the same as him, but his voice, it might be enough. You nod, your heart pounding, hand holding the phone shaking. 

“Then lie back, baby.” Dieter purrs and it’s almost like he’s pushing you back with his hands. You shift up the bed, careful to not step on your robe with your heels as you center yourself in the covers. But Dieter’s moving, off the bed, and he’s adjusting something behind his phone.

The baby inside you can feel your heartbeat racing and they turn, uneasy. You soothe them with small circles just above your hips, your lips between your teeth. But that touch on your skin, the look in Dieter’s eyes, you brush lower on your skin and immediately you shudder. 

“Baby, please, hurry, whatever you’re doing, hurry –,” 

You drop your fingers over your thighs, curling and uncurling, drawing imaginary lines like he does in the mornings against your shoulders and back. 

“Just a second, sorry, almost got it.”

Then he steps back, the phone hovering in the air. Dieter sits on the bed and the camera holds the entire bed in view. Dieter is nothing if not a performer, bringing a tripod into the bedroom when he knows you need him the most. He’s so fucking hot.

“Can you see me, baby?” 

You nod stiffly. “How do you want me?” 

“Whatever way is comfortable,” he smiles and it’s almost as hot as his smirk. Fuck, he loves you so much. You slide the robe off your shoulders, exposing the tops of your breasts as best you can and still keeping your phone up. “Perfect, baby, that’s perfect.” 

Your hand drops to your thigh again, dragging your nails up under the swell of your belly and you twitch. 

“T-tell me what you would want to do,” you begin, your voice shaking, arousal smooth as it licks up your spine, “if you were here right now.” You feel warm all over, the sheets cool against your calves. 

This far away, you can’t see his eyes clear enough to watch them darken entirely, but his low grunt is enough. It’s time for him to perform for his pregnant and insatiable wife. 

He slips his glasses off and tosses them onto the bedside table, where they land with a clatter. You can’t even think of scolding him when he lifts his hips and yanks his gray sweatpants down his knees, then to the floor. He’s half-hard as he shuffles back to the pillows, nearly in the same position you are. You shift to match him entirely, needing the immersion to be total and complete. You’d cry if he could actually touch you.

“Are you comfortable?”

You nod again. But Dieter shakes his head, his fingers digging into his thighs. “I can’t see you this far away, baby. I need you to say it. Talk to me.”

He was usually the one vocal enough for both of you, any coherent language impossible with the mess he makes out of you. You can’t imagine what you’re going to sound like, not when you’re this needy and desperate already.

“O-okay, Dieter, I’ll try.” 

“Good girl.” You whimper again, trying to restrain from touching yourself before he tells you to. But you’re throbbing, the heat blooming from your cunt rushing to the rest of your body, the baby in you restless. As if mother and child can only be soothed by their father. “Now, breathe, darling, you’re flushed.” 

You inhale, the air notching on every bone in your spine, and exhale, your lungs shuddering, eyes shut. “Dieter, please, tell me what you’d –,” 

“I’d touch your thighs,” he says with such immediacy, your eyes spring open. He’s got the knee farthest from you bent up, as if putting himself on display, turning his hips towards the camera slightly. His other leg is stretched out long beside him and his left hand strokes his cock. Hair and shoulders backlit from the far lamp, the image of him like this alone — just for you — has your cunt clenching, a moan spilling from your lips. “Touch your thighs, baby.”

You can’t grab as much skin as he does, but you try. You lift your knees, and massage the backs of your thighs, then up to your knees, and back down. You can almost feel his breath on your calves and you shudder. “What else? W-where else?” 

“I’ve been thinking about your tits for days,” he groans, the sound strangled, his cock now fully-hard and red. He cups himself, twisting as slow as he can take it. “Tell me what your tits feel like.” 

“Sensitive,” you gasp as you draw two fingers across your nipple and squeeze gently. Dieter only uses his mouth now on them, so you wet them with yours and return them to your swollen bud, slowly twisting and pulling. 

He’s watching you through the camera, eyes wide, breath sharp when you suck your fingers into your mouth. “Fuck, yeah, that’s right. Get them wet. What are you thinking about?”

“You. Your lips around my nipple, under my breast. Your teeth. They’re so heavy, Dieter.” 

His hips jerk under his hand, his fingers moving faster now. You can’t quite hear what he’s muttering, but you catch weak mumblings, “gonna feed our baby”, “yeah, your tits”, the baby” —

“Dieter, please–,” 

“Touch yourself with your fingers wet from your mouth. T-t-tell me what it feels like.”

With a relieved cry, you slide your hand down from your tits, over the swell of your belly, and in between your thighs. Wetness clings to the curls, to the curve of your ass, your body so ready to take him, and it locks up when you slip a finger inside.

“So wet. Warm. How many fingers can I put in?”

“One, but – can you already do two?”

You nod, the huff arching into a whine. “Yeah, baby. You have no idea how wet I am. I can slip in two with no resistance.”

“Jesus,” he pants and slows down, his hips rocking of their own accord. “You’ve got me so hard.” 

You curl your fingers inside of you, searching for that spot made and found and praised by him. Your folds plump and achy, you twist your wrist, scissor your fingers, but it’s not the same. It’s not the same as his three fingers plugging you up, readying you to take so much of him, it’s enough to ease the sharp ache for a bit. You moan, fucking yourself more. He hears it, sees it, and grunts. 

“You can come wherever you want, baby,” he murmurs, his own hand hesitant to match your speed. He tugs on his balls and his toes curl, his neck long and tense. “Fuck, I need your hands.”

“Me too,” you sob, real tears pricking the corners of your eyes. It feels good but it’s not the relief you need. It’s pathetic but you don’t want to stop. You can’t get in deep enough, even if you could get around your big belly. “Dieter, I can’t reach. It’s – I’m –,”

“Breathe, love, it’s okay.” His voice is soothing, calming. The same one he uses when you’re in labor and the sweet honey warmth of it sinks into your bones, easing the panic. You slow, gasping, tears pooling down your temple. Your orgasm is harsh, sunken in the dark, waiting for you to draw it out.

“What can you reach?”

“My clit.” 

“Then touch that. Can I see?”

You nod, angle the phone down as you rub that electric nub. 

“Oh, fuck, baby. I know it’s frustrating and I know it hurts, but you look so fucking good. So wet for me. Your pussy is perfect, pink, just how I like her.”

“Yeah?” you spin your fingers faster. That hot arousal returns steadily, melting back the resentment towards your own body the longer he praises. 

“Oh yeah.” You can hear the slap of skin on the other end of the phone and you can picture Dieter flat on his back jerking himself off to your pulsating cunt and you moan, loudly, tension evaporating from your body. “How do you feel?”

“Good. Tight. I just need a bit more.” 

“Me too. Let me see your face, pretty girl.” You turn the camera and gape at the sight on the screen. 

Precum drips out of his now-purple cock, his chest flushed and neck sweaty. He’s twirling the head around with his thumb at the pace you’ve set with your fingers against your clit. 

“Look at what you’ve done to me. You’re so fucking gorgeous. Can’t wait for you to be home so I can eat you out for hours.” 

“I want your cock in me, Dieter,” you gasp, furiously rubbing on your clit, sending wave after wave of pleasure coursing through you. Your cunt clenches in time with your thudding heartbeat. “You’re so thick. I wanna feel the stretch.”

“Oh, I’m gonna fuck you hard.” The confession is a low snarl, a promise made between the ridges of his teeth. He fucks his fist faster, the noise over his labored breathing obscene. “Gonna put your hands on the headboard, your pussy in my lap and I’m gonna fuck up into you until I fill you full again. Wanna make you pregnant twice.” 

Arousal floods your veins, your thighs a gooey mess. You toss your head back, back arching, and you moan as loud as you can. 

“Oh– shit, oh, oh, shit–,”

“You’re gonna leak all over my thighs and when you’re done coming so hard you can’t see straight, I’m gonna lick it up all off you, my wife. Mine. My baby. Mine. Fuck, you look so good full of me.”

He’s never this possessive, never angry that he can’t have you but he sounds livid. He fucks his fist, his hips bucking into nothing, his other hand squeezing his thigh so hard his knuckles go white. 

You circle your clit one more time and finally — your orgasm crests, your body locking up, your cunt gushing – and it leaves your mouth before you can stop it –

“Oh, Daddy–,”

You hear him gasp as if electrocuted, and you have to drop your phone to steady yourself as the weight of white-hot pleasure explodes across your body. You rock, breath gone from your lungs, mouth open in a silent scream, and everything slams back into you and you gasp, high and loud, every inch of your skin hot and trembling. You don’t realize you’re sweating until you feel it drip off your neck.  

All you can hear is Dieter panting from your phone amongst the covers, the sound muffled. Your eyes flutter as the warm waves languish, then curl, and finally, you sigh as the last waves drain out of your body. If you weren’t lying down you’re sure you’d be dizzy.

“Oh my god,” you mutter breathlessly to no one in particular.

“B-baby, you still there?”

You blindly feel around for your phone, arm so weak it’s trembling as you pull the camera towards your face

Dieter looks about as fucked out as you feel. Cock limp and still dribbling, his stomach and chest are covered in cum. He pushes his damp hair off his forehead, eyes wide and staring at the ceiling. 

“Holy shit, baby, that was …”

“Yeah,” you nod, swallowing your dry tongue, wishing again he was here so he could get you a glass of water. “I hope that wasn’t all of it because I really want you to say all of those things again tomorrow when you’re inside me.”

He groans and adjusts his limp cock. “You say that now but wait until Baby Bravo kicks you in the kidneys. You’ll be feeling a lot less generous towards this,” he gestures aimlessly to his naked body, “then.”

You chuckle. “Let’s just hope for the best. Besides,” you say, groaning a bit as you sit up to wipe the sweat off your neck with the robe, “I’m pretty sure I can have you eating out of the palm of my hand. Now that I know your secret . . . Daddy.” 

Dieter groans as you laugh. He shakes his head. “You shouldn’t be so surprised by now when you make me discover new kinks.” 

“Mhmm hmm.” 

He rolls his eyes as he gets up and picks the phone off the tripod. Holding the phone to his face, he wipes the cum off with his sweatpants before turning his attention back to you.

“How are you? Feel better?”

“Much better.” You stretch and lean back in the bed. If he was here, you’d probably be asking to eat you out, but at least the knife’s edge of desire has dulled. You can at least wait until nap time to jump your husband’s bones. 

“Good,” Dieter sighs, satisfied. “I’ll be there to pick you up from the airport tomorrow, okay?”

He always gets like this the nearer the due date comes, as if he can’t stand to see you lift a finger unnecessarily. You smile and nod, never wanting it to be any other way. 

“I’ll text you when I land.”

“Okay. Good night, my biggest love. I love you, so much.” 

“I love you too, Dieter.” Goddamn hormones, making you cry again. 

“Now lemme say goodbye to our little traveler.”

You wipe your eyes with your thumb as you tilt the phone to your swollen belly. 

“Good night, Baby Bravo. Can’t wait to have you around.”

And, at the sound of their father’s voice, they stir. Not kick or hurt. Just a tiny foot against your tight skin.

You are officially crying now. 

“They said hi, didn’t they?”

You’re nodding, crying, and he can’t see a damn thing. “Yeah,” you say quietly. “They said good night, Dad.”

He’s patient with you as you wipe your eyes, cheeks flushed again. 

“Baby, don’t cry, you’re breaking my heart.”

“You’re just a really good dad. And I’m so lucky,” you blubber. “This is it! I’m never leaving to go scouting again. I can’t take it.” 

“Mhmm. Let’s revisit that when you’re about two months postpartum and clawing at the walls.”

You laugh with him, your own sticky and goopy. “Fine.”

“Go to bed, love, and for the record, I’m the lucky one. Don’t forget that. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Good night.” You blow a kiss and he catches it. You roll your eyes. “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

You stay like that for a bit, cradled by the pillows, and your phone on your chest, thinking about everything from Dieter to the next school picture day, to the next family vacation, and of course, the zillion things you have to get done with work before the baby comes — hopefully all from the home office.

She kicks. 

You smile, wondering how you and Zelle both just know it’s a girl. Dieter has his own suspicions, he says, but he’s saving them. Orion would probably be thrilled to have a dragon in the family. You snort, hand over the place where she put her little foot.

“I miss them too, sweetie. And once you’re here, we’ll outnumber those silly boys. Maybe we’ll have to get a dog. You’ll like dogs.”

She’s silent, maybe sleeping, maybe thinking about what the heck a dog is. You smile, turn off the lamp, and peel back the covers. The sheets are cool and soft.

You fall asleep, dreaming of little feet, and hands, and wedding rings.

[neysaadept]

Prometheus Chapter 2

Emily Prentiss x Female CIA Reader

Tags: Limited use of y/n but established last name. Swearing, mentions of the pandemic and human and sex trafficking. Minors DNI.

Summary: You are an old acquaintance of Rebecca Wilson. She calls in a favor to help the BAU out of a financial debacle. This also means that the current CIA employed Reader has to consult with the BAU to make this work, and not just on paper. This has to be official, which means working with a disgruntled Section Chief Emily Prentiss. A lot.

First time writing like this, so any feedback is appreciated!

AO3

Word Count: 3.4k

Chapter 2 - Why Do I Even Bother?

Emily stares blankly at you, digesting this ironic twist of fate that has landed in her lap.

Someone was joining the unit that she didn’t authorize. She could have laughed at the absurdity of it all if she wasn’t so angry right now.

And now, I know how Hotch felt …

When she joined the BAU, there was so much work drama after Greenaway left that the section chief at the time approved her transfer without letting Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner know. Emily had unknowingly become a potential pawn of Strauss to spy on the BAU.

Which didn’t improve her opinion of you. You said all the right words and felt genuine, but this wasn’t sitting right with Emily. What was in it for you? A CIA special agent had more important things to do than moonlight with the FBI. She didn’t even know what skills you had to assist the team in their line of work. Hell, she didn’t even know you existed until today and here Rebecca was vouching for you or you wouldn’t be here. Tara trusted Rebecca and Rebecca trusted you. Should Emily?

In her head, Emily wants to convince herself that both of your odd recruitments into the BAU are different. That you both wanted to be in the BAU and there was no malicious intent. But Emily only knew her motivation. Not yours.

She was trying to make sense of it. The drama in the BAU was not as earth shattering as the fallout with Greenaway. She was dealing with post pandemic political shakes up and Rossi’s mental state.

At least I got my office back and Dave’s back home…

Instead of Strauss, she has a Bailey and Rebecca and you are adamant that there was no issue in making the deputy director upset. Both of you had come to her to explain the situation so she wouldn’t be blindsided by you consulting for the BAU. It isn’t like the AG just made it happen. She just approved of the plan to start the tricky process of how the money gets into the BAU budget. Which makes sense having you on the team. It is the easiest way on paper to expedite the resources instead of having you fill out all the paperwork needed to be granted your funds – which could take weeks considering the sum required. You certainly couldn’t just Zelle the money or cut the BAU a personal check since any government official or agency couldn’t accept gifts.

Ugh!

Emily’s silence was deafening. If she could kill you with the look of contempt she was directing your way, you would burst into flames and become a pile of ash that the section chief could happily walk over without a second thought.

“Look, I know you’re not happy,” you begin to say and Prentiss’ eyes narrow as if you were a child stating the obvious. That did not go over well with you but sniping back would only escalate the situation. And you really weren’t in the mood to go head to head with the unit chief in a verbal spar. Plus, it would make Rebecca mad. You didn’t want to ruin your friend’s reputation. “I’m not that happy either since I’m supposed to be on leave.”

Rebecca shot you an incredulous look you ignore. She was not buying for a second that you weren’t happy working with the FBI instead of taking the leave the CIA was forcing upon you. Prentiss certainly took notice of the reaction.

“And I wouldn’t like it either if someone was forced onto my team without my input. So,” you relax your stance and hold up your hands gesturing to Prentiss, “you make the call.”

“Hey!” Rebecca says, wondering what got into you. “Davis won’t like this if we wasted her time.”

You look at Rebecca and lightly shrug. She scoffs at you being nonchalant about the backlash.  “Seriously?”

“It’s Prentiss’ call,” you answer, looking back at her. Prentiss remains silent in thought, studying you. Her only movement was her right thumb and index finger toying with a knuckle on the other hand.

“Look, you can approve of me being here and getting the money. I’ll even sign whatever you want to make good on this. Rebecca can whip that up quick,” you say with a flourish of your hand towards her.

“Gee. Thanks for volunteering me.”

“You’re welcome,” you respond cheekily, but your eyes were still on Prentiss. “I’m sure you two can figure out a reasonable amount of time I’ll need to be on staff to make everyone happy on paper. Or …”

You shove your hands down your front jean pockets as you scrunch your shoulders. “… say the word, and I’m back on vacation. And … hopefully no hard feelings for this whole thing?”

The smile that you give her reaches your eyes, truly accepting either decision.

Emily opens her mouth to answer, her jaw slightly off center, momentarily taken aback with how yielding you were …

“And now I get to spend the rest of my night working on your damn contract,” grumbles Rebecca as you both walk down the stairs away from Prentiss’ office. She had her phone out, furiously typing away to let Tara know she was going to be late.

“Yeah, sorry about your plans.” The smile gave away your amusement. “But think about how happy your girlfriend will be that you saved the BAU’s ass.” You hip check her as you sing song. “I’m thinking you’re gonna get thank you sex for saving the BAU …”

She looks at you, eyes shifting slowly from irritation to delight. “Now that’s a good point.” She fires off another text to Tara and pockets her phone. “And what about you?”

You furrow your brows at the question. “What about me what? I’m not having sex with your girlfriend.”

“God! What is wrong with you?”

You laugh. “There are many theories.”

She can’t help laughing at that. “Fair point. But is there any special someone to celebrate with or you still flying solo?”

Now you throw your head back with a sharper laugh in response. “Yeah, no. Still very much a solo gig. Not like I’ve got time for it anyway. And don’t!” You playfully shove Rebecca when you scold her. “I hear your mind wind working overtime already. Don’t get any fucking ideas.”

“I’d never!” she replies with a shrewd wink as you both exit the bullpen to leave.

Emily watches both of you walk away with a familiar camaraderie from her office door, already beginning to regret her decision to sign you on as a consultant. Were you always going to be this loud and obnoxious? Much of your behavior had been superficial until you realized you had angered her with crack about her fake death. Of course, you behaved long enough for her to take you on and offer a quick, thank you ma’am before degrading into a joke again. She watched as you wiped your brow and breathed a sigh of relief at Rebecca, announcing you were worried Emily was going to say no for sec.

She closes the door as your laughter echoes through the empty bullpen along with Rebecca’s, wondering if she should consider reneging the offer a second time in the last thirty minutes. Silently she imagines a scenario that she follows after you and rips you to shreds for being so passionless to the plight of the BAU and caring only about fulfilling a debt.

Sitting down with a sigh, Emily rakes a hand through her silver locks before taking a healthy swallow of wine to settle herself. You irritated her, probably heightened by her mistrust of you. To combat this feeling to ensure the BAU runs smoothly, she will treat you like the asset you were. All activities of yours will be approved only through Emily as indicated by the contract Wilson would write up. Emily will be watching everything you do to make sure the team is protected and that means you will be working with her. Nothing will be authorized unless she was right there by your side. There will be no wildcards fucking up the fragile autonomy the BAU still has.

Which means I gotta get this clearance confirmation done …

She switches tabs to get to her email and starts drafting an official inquiry to confirm your credentials with CIA HR and clearance with the DCSA*.

Time to find out who you are Special Agent Whitlock.

The next morning Penelope Garcia was fully back to work with the BAU with boundaries. Lovely boundaries that kept her happy to help catch the bad guys without all the gruesome visuals and knowing she would do everything by the book. The team knew they couldn’t find this sicko without her, and she couldn’t let the team down, or know that more people would die because she wasn’t there to stop him. Or heaven forbid, her beautiful BAU babies disbanded by that meanie deputy director.

Her conscious had to remain clean.  Mr. Clean clean.

With her assertive demands understood by the unit, it made for a happy place in Penelope’s mind and heart as she works on compiling data from the unsubs phones in the Sicarius case. She bobbed her head to Bad Blood, by Taylor Swift, as her screens flashed with scrolling code.

There was a knock at her door.

“Enter plebian!” she calls out with a flourish of her hand.

“I think I’m a bit higher up than that, Pen.”

“Oh, Emily!” Penelope gasps as she turns around in her chair. Even with her boss smiling, she couldn’t help grimacing “I apologize, my liege, for besmirching your good name.”

“It’s fine. I assume you thought I was Luke?”

“Yes. He was supposed to bring me my smoothie! Big fail.”

“I’ll get on him for that, but I need a favor …”

“Favor may be granted if it aligns with my virtue,”

“Yes, it’s completely legal.” She leans against the desk as Garcia relaxes back in her chair. “I’m waiting on confirmation for a consultant I’m bringing on …”

Garcia’s eyes immediately lit up. and she squeals so loudly it echoes in the lair. “Eee! New blood! Who is it?!”

“Special Agent in the CIA.”

This perplexes Garcia. “Is Sicarius international now? I haven’t seen any data to suggest that he likes to play in foreign lands. So far, he’s a domesticated jerk.”

“No, nothing like that. She’s a friend of Wilson’s who’s helping out the BAU and keeping Bailey off my back, in a sense,” Emily admits.

“In a sense?” She looks Emily down the rim of her glasses, eyes widening with intrigue. “What aren’t you telling me oh fearless leader?”

Emily purses her lips as she points a finger at Penelope. “You’ll be briefed with the entire time when I’m ready? Ah!” she points a finger up to stop the woman’s inquiry. “Not a minute sooner. But I do have some fact finding I want done. “ 

She smiles knowingly and with promise. “You’ll get firsthand knowledge on our consultant before the team does.”

“Ah, Section Chief Emily Prentiss doesn’t want to wait for the official information to come through and wants moi to enlighten her.” She pouts, thinking, before looking serious. She points her pink fuzzy topped pen at Emily.  “I’ll only use official channels and regular back doors that happen to remain open for me.”

Emily holds her hands up in concession. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Penelope puts her pen down, satisfied with the answer and opens a new inquiry on the name Emily provide: Special Agent Y/N Whitlock.

Your feet pound the dirt surface adjacent to the C&O Canal for your morning run today. You had your hair pulled back in a loose bun, deciding to forgo the football cap. The trail has plenty of trees to provide shade, even on a sunny day.

The canal water reflects stone and tree in a still frame as the wind was barely a light breeze disturbing the surface. The only indication were water bugs dancing along the surface to disrupt the moment, small circles overlaying through one another as they ripple from middle to either side.

You are glad you opted for a light training jacket to keep protected against the morning chill despite wearing shorts. It gave you a comfortable warmth as you kept working up a sweat. Running helps to keep wandering thoughts at bay. Your mind focused on the impact of your sneakers against the soft ground, the chilly air you inhale and how it changes to a visible warm mist as you exhale. Breathing and moving. A rhythmic pattern for grounding body and mind.

Your phone was safely secured by a strap around your left upper arm as you listen to Flyleaf blasting away in your earbuds. Without thinking, your speed matches the beat of the drum and you almost forget where you were. Lost in the present. A rare gift for someone like you.

Which came to an unnerving halt when a call came through. You had set your phone to vibrate and bring your arm around to see who was calling. It was Brian.

You immediately stop running and tap your earbud to take the call

 “Hey,” you pant out in greeting.

“Catch you at a bad time?” You could hear his amusement.

“Nothing … exciting. Jus’ … running. Or … was.”

You take note of your surroundings and see one civilian sitting on the edge of the canal path gazing into the water. There was another one walking their dog.

“Oh good. Here I thought you’d be getting ready for work.”

You wince, hearing his disappointment as you walk over to a bench. “Word … travels fast.”

You inhale and exhale with purpose, catching your breath. “I’m surprised you found out this quickly since you got better things to do then babysitting me.”

“A consulting job with the BAU?” A pause. “Really? Of all the things you could be doing …”

“There’s nothing wrong with helping them out.”

“Of course not. Unless you’re supposed to be on leave.”

“Wilson called in a favor,” you explain as you sit. “I wanted to help her and the unit out. Bailey’s being a dick.”

“As the director of the CIA, I’ll pretend you didn’t say that.”

“Still doesn’t change he’s being a dick.”

“Anyway … the FBI asking for your clearance confirmation is what flagged your mischief. Why can’t you just take time for yourself? You didn’t have to repay the favor like this.”

‘I know,” you admit as a squirrel scurries along the trail, looking around for anything edible. “But, I just …” You sigh, heart pounding as you try to find your words. You focus on the squirrel to ground you, watching its tail snap back and forth while its head darts around trying to keep an eye on potential danger. “Come on, Brian. Sitting still’s hard. I need … something to do. This at least keeps me in the country for a while. That practically counts as a vacation.” You could hear how childly petulant you sound.

“With the AG backing this plan you’ve agreed to, I’d have to personally override it to force you take it easy. And that would cause suspicion. And clear favoritism. We can’t have that again. So, I’ll expedite the process on getting your official credentialing approved as requested. I will say I’m happy you’re using your stipend since you barely do. This is a creative use, I must say.”

“Hey, that’s all Wilson. Make sure she gets the credit for this one.”

He laughs. “Fair enough, but you need to be careful. You haven’t been integrated in such a public team in a very long time.”

“Yeah, I get that. I know what to say and not say. Mostly not say. You worry too much old man.”

I probably shouldn’t have said anything about the whole AWOL matter in front of Prentiss …Oops!

“Long as we understand each other.”

“Affirmative, Director Korogoth.”

Yeah, Brian didn’t need to know about her first slip up.

Emily couldn’t make a dent in her paperwork later in the afternoon as reports from all levels of the FBI lab were coming in from the shipping container. Repeated authorizations were needed to keep escalating the DNA testing of the victims, whose families of missing persona were rising in numbers at Quantico. She had sent Tara there to speak with them and provide as much comfort as possible with such uncertainty. They needed time and patience before they could release any information, and Lewis was the best agent for the job of explaining this.

“Knock, knock!”

She looks up and sees Garcia standing in her doorway with tablet in hand and a grimace. “What’s wrong?” she warily asks.

“Nothing Sicarius bad, but I come bringing lackluster news of our dear consultant.” Garcia comes in and sits down, turning the tablet around so Prentiss could see. “There’s like, nothing out there about her. And I tried everything. The FBI, CIA, DOJ, INTERPOL, and O M G nothing,” she finishes with a whine. “I even tried all the backdoors that I happen to know but still … nothing! I never find nothing besides the basic info that they …” she flourishes her hands out in the air at the invisible government, “… want us to see!”

“Hold on, Pen,” Emily says gently as Garcia was on the verge of hyperventilating. She always took it as a personal failure when she couldn’t come through for the team. “Why can’t you find anything?”

Penelope pulls her lips together and inhales deeply in and out through her nose a few times while closing her eyes. With a quick flex of her fingers, she opens her eyes and calmly starts. ‘Because apparently I don’t have clearance.”

“How the hell do you not have clearance?” Emily is stunned, unable to comprehend what Garcia admitted. “You have all the clearances …”

Her eyes ran through the information on the tablet that was able to be pulled: basic physical data and skill sets that a field operative would have with the CIA, list of languages spoken that overlapped with her own, and current status as active but on leave. Clearly the request for consulting with the BAU has not been approved yet. Scrolling further, there were glaring omissions of how long you were in the CIA, recruitment date and where, notable missions that were declassified, and specializations. There was no date of birth nor place listed.

What the hell do you do for them that so much is hidden? Emily wondered as Penelope spoke up.

“Yes, but I don’t have the need to know clearance about Ms. Whitlock. All my contacts said the same thing – the BAU doesn’t need to have anymore information on her except what you have in your hands right there.” She was exasperated, still, from hitting one dead end after another and huffed, crossing her arms. “They also said nothing negative about her, but why the secrecy?”

“Why indeed …” Emily trails off in thought.

Who the fuck are you?

“Is it … ah, worth it to have someone like this on the BAU, Emily?” she asks nervously. “I mean, with Bailey and all. It’s super nice that Tara’s girlfriend thinks this woman can help, but it’s really, really, weird to find next to nothing. I don’t even know where she lives! Her salary! Not even her phone number!” She steadies her hands that started to lightly shake, clearly bothered by this unknown variable.

“At this juncture?” she sets the tablet down and sighs. “Yes.”

“Why?” Penelope asks in disbelief. “This … this isn’t a good idea, Emily!”

“She’s the solution to our budget,” she reveals. “The only one I’ve got.”

“So, what? We’ve handled worse before. We can do it again. Why are you okay with this?”

“I never said I was okay with it. Just that this is the solution I’ve got to give the BAU some breathing room that we really need right now. Soon as we capture Sicarius.” She points to your face on the tablet, “she’s gone.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. I’ll be personally overseeing her as I’ll explain to the team once this all gets cleared and approved.” She looks gravely at her friend. “And that means keeping this quiet until then. Understood?”

Garcia scowls.

“Garcia ….” Emily begins to warn.

“Fine!” Penelope huffs as she rises, snatching the tablet. “I certainly hope you’re hiring Black Widow and not some Skrull that takes us down, boss.”

Emily watches as Garcia storms out of her office with furrowing brows and murmurs. “What in the hell’s a Skrull?”

*Defense Counterintelligence and Security Agency.

Chapter 3

[bite-the-bloody-hand]

6 SONG SOUNDTRACK (PART 3 - BLUEGRASS)

Rules: If you're tagged, make a new post with links to music and/or lyrics describing the following: 1. An event that defines your character's past 2. How your character sees themselves 3. How others view them 4. Their closest relationship (platonic or romantic) 5. A major fight scene 6. End Credits song

This is a very special mixtape. Today would've been my dad's 69th birthday (nice, pops) and in honor of him, this playlist comes from his personal record collection. I cannot stress enough that this man was a deeply closeted bisexual from Chicago who rode a horse exactly once and hated it the entire time. He was the farthest thing from a cowboy you could possibly get, excepting, of course, the loads of pot he smoked (and dealt), but god damn did he love him some country music. So here's to you, Mongo. This is the soundtrack for the gayass cowboy stoner action comedy epic you'd insist you only like for the soundtrack … kinda like how the Mapplethorpe flower print in your living room was 'just because you liked the flower.' <3

Spotify || Youtube music ||Part 1 - Disco ||Part 2 - Post-Punk GothRock

1 THE DOOBIE BROTHERS - Steamer Lane Breakdown [instrumental]

It's always about the leaving with Zell - running away from 'home' in Ustalav was the first huge decision he made for himself. He looks back on leaving with fondness, it was a moment of true joy, a wild and boundless freedom he hadn't felt in a long time.

2 EMMYLOU HARRIS - Born To Run

Well, I take the chances, sometimes I made mistakes But you don't get nothing unless you take the breaks Living is dangerous as dynamite Sure it makes you feel nervous, but it makes you feel alright Makes you feel alright

He's ambitious, but not so much competing with anyone else as competing with himself; finding out who he really is. He's impatient to find out what living really feels like.

3 GREGG ALLMAN - Midnight Rider

And I don't own the clothes I'm wearing And the road goes on forever And I've got one more silver dollar But I'm not gonna let 'em catch me, no Not gonna let 'em catch the midnight rider

Zell's stories of being a wanderer travel as far as the rest of his more imposing reputation; the idea that he's a criminal on the run (not… 100% untrue), a vagabond and roving lover (also not 100% untrue he just didn't believe anyone else was as serious about him as he could have been about them) are romantic ideas that really catch on among the general public. He doesn't disabuse people of this, because he digs how cool it makes him sound and not like. A kinda pathetic loser who's terrified of commitment.

4 THE MARSHALL TUCKER BAND - Heard It In A Love Song

I'm the kind of man who likes to get away Like to start dreaming 'bout tomorrow today Never said that I love you even though it's so Where's that duffel bag of mine, it's time to go

I've always interpreted this song in a playful tone, like the singer has no intention of actually leaving. He's teasing the idea, but knows he's already so far gone that there's no way he's finding anything better down the road; after a certain point, Zell gets the same way. It takes the right kind of person to keep him off the road.

5 NITTY GRITTY DIRT BAND - Foggy Mountain Breakdown [Instrumental]

Zell can't count how many bar fights he's gotten in when this exact song was playing on the jukebox but it's enough that he has something of a Pavlovian reaction to it now.

6 WILLIE NELSON - Roll Me Up And Smoke Me When I Die* (Feat. Snoop Dogg, Kris Kristofferson, Jamey Jonson)

When I'd go, I'll have been here long enough So sing and tell more jokes and dance and stuff Just keep the music playing, that'll be a good goodbye Roll me up and smoke me when I die

One of the most exciting things about finding yourself and falling in love with life is accepting the end will come, and making sure it'll be a damn good party when it does.

*Our outsider track of the list - it came out a few days after Dad passed. This one's close to my heart for that reason especially. We did in fact smoke out and play this at his memorial, it was a wonderful goodbye. I'm getting high as hell at this very moment, in his honor.

[suleikashideaway]

Fandom: Final Fantasy VIII

Characters: Rinoa Heartilly/Squall Leonhart, Zell Dincht/Library Girl, Selphie Tilmitt/Irvine Kinneas, Quistis Trepe

Prompt: Liontamer

Rating: G

Words: 3,559

Additional Tags: Fluff, Rinoa Appreciation, Making Out

Summary:

Everyone can admit: Rinoa has her own special brand of magic when it comes to Squall. Five perspectives contemplate how the angel tamed the lion. 

[horanghaejamjam]

Emergency Commissions

Hello everyone, I know I still have fics due and I hate to do this but recently my older pup Prince has become very sick and I am unable to afford the treatment and medication he needs so I am opening emergency commissions to try and help earn a bit more money for it.

Shares help a lot as well if you are unable to commission at this time! If you are interested in commissioning please read my details below and feel free to message me through Tumblr with inquiries.

You may also message me on Discord: horanghaejamjam

Or email me: Sugakookiebiased@gmail.com

___

Please note at this time I ONLY write for kpop idols and kdramas. I am familiar with hundreds of groups/soloists/and dramas and I am happy to research them for you if I am unfamiliar.

I am a detailed writer who specializes in oc inserts, x readers, and fantasy aus. I am happy writing all genres, pairings, and relationships.

What I will not write:

Continuations of another writer's work

Ocs that are stolen

Smut with idols (or commissioners) that are minors

Idols that are deceased

Idols involved in major scandals

Stories meant to attack anyone or a certain group irl

Slurs

Tragic Historical Events

For smut based stories or stories dealing with darker themes not listed above please message me to discuss what I am and am not okay with.

Pricing/Payments:

My base price is $5 per 1k words up until 20k words. After 20k words I charge $5 per every additional 500 words.

Since I am currently out of college stories will take 1-3 days to complete once commissioned. If you would like the story to be completed the day of it will add an additional $4

NSFW stories (including smut and darker themes): will add $3 - $7 to the total price depending on how detailed the NSFW is.

All payments are in USD and will be done in a 50/50 payment plan. 50% is due once the commission is started and the rest is due upon its completion.

Once the final fic is complete I am willing to alter minor details for free you also will not be charged if I go over the agreed word count.

I accept the following payment methods: Paypal, Venmo, Cashapp, Zelle

Other Important Info:

Once the final payment is confirmed I will send you a pdf copy of the completed story. As the buyer you are allowed to use your commissioned piece for any personal matters. You are allowed to repost it or translate it onto other sites as long as you credit me as the writer. You may not edit or repost the work as yours or resell it.

I will likely post the completed commission onto my Tumblr and AO3 unless it contains details that I am not comfortable posting. If you have an account on any of these sites you will be tagged as the one who commissioned the piece and the owner of any Ocs. If you do not wish to be tagged for whatever reason or would not like your work posted please specify this with me ahead of time.

Since these commissions have such a quick TAT I will begin working on them the second I receive payment. If you decide to cancel the commission you will be refunded 50% of the commission price. Once the story is completed and approved it is non refundable. I will be constantly updating you on the status of your story on whatever communication method you prefer so you know where its at.

If you have any questions do not hesitate to reach out to me! Any and all support is greatly appreciated.

[ffviiicharacterweek]

Angel, by suleikas_hideaway

Angel

Everyone can admit: Rinoa has her own special brand of magic when it comes to Squall. Five perspectives contemplate how the angel tamed the lion.

Characters: Rinoa Heartilly, Squall Leonhart, Zell Dincht, Irvine Kinneas, Selphie Tilmitt, Quistis Trepe Pairings: Rinoa Heartilly/Squall Leonhart, Zell Dincht/Library Girl, Irvine Kinneas/Selphie Tilmitt Additional tags: N/A Prompt: Liontamer Author: @suleikashideaway

[rixareth]

'People you'd like to get to know better' meme

Thank you for tagging me on this, @unorthodox-oblivion!

Three ships: only three??? How am I supposed to narrow this down? I suppose I'll go with one ship from three different categories I have a weakness for:

ships between cynics and the idealists who make them a little less cynical, such as Jeff/Annie from Community.

ships between people who are isolated together, either physically or metaphorically (e.g. by their mutual experience of things nobody else will ever believe or understand), such as Mike/Sam from Until Dawn.

the oddly specific 'creepy person who hovers between ally and antagonist'/'determined protagonist who has an intense relationship with aforementioned creepy person and doesn't know how to feel about that', such as Hinata/Komaeda from Danganronpa 2.

Special mention to Nate/Elena from Uncharted, who don't fall into any of these categories but always spring immediately to my mind when I think about ships I love.

First ship: Squall/Zell (Final Fantasy VIII). I've always been a little surprised it's not a bigger pairing; Zell definitely seemed into Squall!

Last song: The last song I actually listened to was 'Little Talks' by Of Monsters and Men. The song I currently have stuck in my head is 'Hurricane' from Death Note: The Musical.

Last movie: Birds of Prey. It was pretty fun; I enjoyed what a disaster Harley Quinn was. The last film I saw in the cinema was Suzume, which was absolutely gorgeous.

Currently reading: A Psalm for the Wild-Built by Becky Chambers. I always enjoy her sci-fi; I'm sorry that the Wayfarers series is over!

Currently watching: Having seen Death Note: The Musical on stage and absolutely loved it, I'm rewatching the Death Note anime! I love Light. He's such a terrible person, but he's just so good at murder that I find myself weirdly proud of him.

(I went to the musical with a friend. 'The moment Light came on stage and started singing, I looked over at you, and you were smiling so fondly,' my friend commented afterwards. 'It was like we were watching a school play and your child had just come on.')

Last thing I wrote: This little Death Note ficsnippet in response to a concept suggested by @winter-literature. I've never written anything about soulmates before, but I couldn't stop thinking about the idea; it did seem fitting for Light and L! I ended up scribbling the ficlet down on my phone in the middle of preparing supper.

Currently writing: I don't know whether I'll actually finish it, but I've been playing around with a Death Note fic concept in which Light is forced to kill someone with his bare hands. He's used to killing from afar, so I think it would be interesting to see how he copes with committing hands-on murder, and whether that would make it harder for him to accept his own actions.

[ibjb]

In German, Zeller Shwarze Katz means "The black cat from Zell". Zell is a small wine producing town in the Middle Mosel. According to legend, a black cat fiercely protected a barrel of Zell wine which was cellared among barrels of several other wines, which it completely ignored. It was presumed by the local wine merchants that the Zeller wine must be special. Zell wineries capitalized on the popular legend by featuring black cats on their labels.Price is for one set of 6 identical vintage, black, plastic wine charms/hang tags, from bottles of Zeller Schwarze Katz wine. More sets available for purchase.Item type: Black catBrand: Zeller Schwarze KatzType of advertising: Wine Charms, Hang TagsColor: BlackShape: CatMaterial: PlasticSize: 1 1/4 inches high x almost 1 1/8 inches wideAge: 1960's vintageCondition:

[heplev]

Lächerliche antiisraelische Propaganda des Tags: Ibn Sina-Krankenhaus in Jenin

David Lange, Israellycool, 30. Januar 2024 In Szenen, die an etwas aus Fauda erinnert, töteten israelische Undercover-Kommandosoldaten, verkleidet als arabische Männer und Frauen, drei Mitglieder einer bewaffneten Hamas-Zelle, die sich in einem Krankenhaus in Jenin versteckten. Fauda in action: Special Israeli commando unit dressed like women and hospital staff managed to enter the hospital in…

[tuesdayscanons]

{🌃} "Another year, another chapter in the story of Zell~ ☆" {🌃}

[zeninsama-moved]

I fall for it everytime. I poke and poke and poke then later I’m all heart eyes as he makes me [redacted] over and over until I say I’m sorry. 😩👀

to be fair, if aki wants us to stop menacing him, he needs to stop being so cute and slutty 🤨 also i did not mean to reply with something so long LMAO

cw for use of 'girl' in petnames

anyways... messing with aki from the other room in the middle of his meeting, taking shots of your fingers tracing over your pussy, still covered by your panties because you know he likes seeing when they get all wet, then pulling them aside and spreading yourself open to show him your needy hole and clit.

aki watches each one come in, forced to sit there and act like his cock isn’t throbbing underneath his desk. maybe he shoots you a warning text first, telling you to behave, but you make your mood very clear when you respond with a video, the new angle allowing him a clear view of you laying on your tummy, rocking your hips to fuck yourself on the fingers buried in your cunt.

his volume is muted, but he knows all the pretty sounds you're making from memory – the soft, needy moans, and the wet squelch of your pussy eagerly taking your fingers. the meeting can't end fast enough.

afterwards, it could go one of two ways – either aki meets you in the bedroom where you're still sprawled out and waiting for him – or you've moved to a different room entirely, innocently standing in the kitchen or folding towels in the laundry room, pretending like you haven't been menacing him for the last half hour.

you bite back a grin as his arms wrap around you from behind, one hand cupping your breast and the other splaying out across your tummy, just barely reaching under the waist of your shorts. you can tell when aki's needy because he gropes you, his usual gentle and respectful demeanor nowhere to be found.

“my naughty girl couldn’t wait half an hour?” he coos, repositioning his hand on your hip and pulling you back onto his lap, letting you feel his hard dick press firmly between your legs. “you’re lucky i’m on break, i don’t have time to discipline you for that.”

even if he did have time, aki might be too worked up to sit through spanking you. he needs some relief urgently, so instead, he bends you over the counter and kneels, pulling your shorts down with him until they pool around your ankles and he's level with your panty-covered ass. his voice is low, breath warm against your inner thighs as he murmurs for you to "hold your panties aside for me, okay?"

as much as aki craves burying his face in your pussy and licking you out until he's satisfied, he knows it's only a matter of minutes before he's expected on another call, so he licks broadly from clit to hole, settling with just a little taste for now. a few minutes will be plenty of time for him to relieve you both and fuck the attitude out of you.

“what happened to my sweet little girl, huh?” aki teases, fingers caressing your jaw before holding it firmly in his hand, forcing you to look into his eyes, let him watch the look on your face while he fucks you dumb. your jaw drops from the intensity of his thrusts, his dick fucking so deep inside you, and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue past your parted lips, giving you a taste of yourself.

“i thought you were good for me, sweetheart? you’re still my good girl, right?”

[diana-berry]

Diana Berry- an intro post

This is so outdated lol

🍓hi! My name is Diana!

🍓my pronouns are she/her and those ONLY please I am cis but male pronouns make me really uncomfortable

🍓lesbian

🍓My main interest right now is identity V and South Park they’ve been hyper-fixations of mine for awhile

🍓My idv mains are Margaretha, Murro, Demi, Galatea, Ann, BonBon

🍓my idv comfort characters are Margaretha, Demi, Galatea, Mary, Michiko

🍓I DESPISE Chloe nair the perfumer due to personal and trauma related reasons. She reminds me of trauma I’ve experienced so that’s why, you may find some hate for her here.

🍓I am disabled, I have POTS, narcolepsy, asthma, depression(major depressive disorder), anemia, generalized anxiety disorder, social anxiety disorder, and Autism. THESE ARE ALL DIAGNOSED. (Autism is a new diagnosis but I’ve been working on getting it diagnosed for awhile). I’m not wheelchair bound but I can’t walk long distances so I use one and I use a walker as well.

🍓I have severe trust issues, I will not trust people super easily

🍓basic dni criteria: proship, bigoted, homophobia, pedophilia, incest, all that makes me uncomfortable. ⚠️IF I INTERACT WITH SOMEONE PROSHIP PLEASE TELL ME! I DONT CHECK THE PAGES OF THE PEOPLE I INTERACT WITH!⚠️

🍓here’s my kin list: (won’t include them all but the ones I can think of. Also I’m not the type of kinner that like thinks I am a character, just strongly relates to.) even if I say I am them I don’t mean it I just mean I strongly relate

•Galatea (idv) -high kin

•OC version of the real Vera Nair, not the perfumer Chloe but the one the died. I have a blog for her you can check out it’s called Veraforgottenheart -high kin/literally me

•Pipp Petals (mlp g5) -High kin/literally me

•Mari (omori)- high kin

•soft gf/grace (fnf soft mod) -literally me I am her

•Evan Hansen (dear Evan Hansen)

•Sayori (ddlc)

•Starlight Glimmer (Mlp g4)

•Heidi turner (South Park)

•Flora (afk arena)

•Aurelia (cursed princess club)

•Teto (utauloid)

•Reika Aoki (smile Precure)

•Demi bourbon

•Kaede Akamatsu (danganronpa v3) -low kin

•Gardenia Reitman (end roll)

•Kyle broflovski (South Park) TOP KIN

•Mrs MayBerry (helluva boss) (I’m pretty sure she’s like one of my highest kins now uhhhh)

•Cozy Glow (MLP)(she’s a vent kin)

•Jimmy Valmer (South Park) (season 19 specifically)

•Bibury (Kira Kira Precure alamode)

•Misa Amane (Death Note)

•Dohwa (God, please make me a demon webtoon)

•Jackson (Jackson’s Diary Webtoon)

•Moondancer (MLP g4)

🍓my comfort characters are: (I won’t list ones that are kins but if they’re a kin assume they’re a comfort character too)

•Margaretha Zelle(idv)

•girlfriend (fnf)

•Applejack (mlp)

•Luka couffaine (miraculous ladybug)

•Alix Kubdel (miraculous ladybug)

•Demi Bourbon (idv)

•Dr Monique Pussycat (peepoodo and the super fuck friends)

•Mary (idv)

•Kyle broflovski (South Park)

•Amity Blight (the owl house)

•Diana Cavendish (little witch academia-I don’t remember much about her though it’s been awhile since I’ve seen the series)

•Rarity (mlp)

•Belinda (afk arena)

•Elizabeth (Frankenstein)

•Frankenstein’s monster (Frankenstein)

•Gakupo (vocaloid)

•Misa Amane (death note)

•Gardenia Reitman (end roll)

•Elder McKinley (Book of Mormon)

•Lucy Maud Montgomery (BSD)

•Izumi kyoka (BSD)

•Francis Scott Fitzgerald (BSD)

•Kasane Teto

•Kasane Ted

🍓my comfort objects include:

•cats

•strawberries

•bunnies

•identity V

•Webtoon

•flowers

•the color pink

•stuffed animals

I DON’T DO SPECIAL TRIGGER TAGS!! If it’s like something like self harm or violence or sexual or whatever you know the general triggering stuff I will normally tag it and if I didn’t it’s because I forgot, feel free to remind me! But like I’m not tagging anything special for you im sorry but that’s too much work for my simple pea brain.

I’ll add more stuff later!

User boxes by sweetpeauserboxes

Check reblogs for more

[mrsalwayswrite]

It’s Always Been You (Eugene Roe x f!Reader)

I have mixed feelings about this piece. But who doesn’t love Soft Roe?

Warnings: couple swear words but PURE FLUFFY FLUFF

Words: 2700

Tag List: @happyveday​ @saritanotserena​ @sydney-m​ @evelynshelby​

  I stood in front of the mirror, unable to believe the person looking back was actually me. I brushed my hands down the front of the gown, enjoying its smooth, silky texture. Such a contrast to the stiff, dirty ODs I had become accustomed to. Light makeup on my face, something I had not indulged in for years. I looked… dare I say… beautiful. Even as I witnessed myself dress up in the mirror, I doubted my own reflection. It felt like I was someone else. Today, though, that was what I wanted.  

 It was a Sunday and everyone was still celebrating being in Zell Am See. We had thought Germany was beautiful but it had nothing on Austria.

 In his pilfering, Captain Speirs had found an abandoned, wealthy home that he thought I might enjoy. He purposefully pulled me aside and told me to investigate the master bedroom before anyone else got to it. At my questioning look, he just gave a wink and said he would stand guard until I was done. Without another word, he lit a cigarette and rummaged through his newest acquisitions. 

 Intrigued and still confused, since everyone knew I did not care much about finding treasures, I wandered into the home and up the grand stairwell until I finally reached the master bedroom. My jaw dropped when I saw what he was referring to and purposefully left for me. I owed him a huge bottle of liquor after this. Whoever the wife was that lived here had expensive taste. There were racks of beautiful gowns and dresses, ranging from whimsical day dresses to breath-taking evening gowns. I spent about an hour just touching all the beautiful gowns, in awe that clothing like this was even real. Even the heels and few pieces of jewelry left behind boggled my mind in their quality. It was a fairytale. It had to be.  

 So, I had decided while all the men were continuing to get drunk, blow things up and joy ride…. I was going to embrace my femininity. Something I had not enjoyed since Albourne, so long ago. 

 Now here I stood, having spent entirely too long getting ready for some kind of elegant ball. The gown I commandeered was an emerald green color, making me feel like I was wearing a gemstone, with wide straps but left my arms bare and dipped low in the back. The red lipstick I found made my lips pop in the bright light of the bathroom. My favorite thing was the small gold chain necklace I discovered half hiding under a dresser, as if dropped and forgotten by whoever was leaving quickly. I wondered if in another life this could have been me regularly, attending socialite functions and dressing up like a princess. Instead I was used to dirt and blood marring my skin, ill-fitting ODs and a helmet that constantly slipped over my eyes. 

 For this moment, just for tonight… I could pretend otherwise. Pretend I was someone important, someone elegant. 

 When I finally stepped out of the wealthy house, Speirs took one look at the gown draped over my arm and the pair of black heels dangling from my hand, and suggested I use the officer's house to get ready in. 

 Taking a deep breath, I took one last look at myself in the mirror. If only my family could see me now, I thought. I slipped on the heels and walked out of the bathroom, the gown trailing lightly behind me. 

 Tonight was about me. Doing something special for me. To remind myself I was more than just a soldier, more than the scars I now bore from our time in combat. That I had not completely lost myself to war and its carnage. Beauty could still be found in the little things...the stolen moments. Like a stunning gown and red lipstick. 

 I could hear the officers downstairs, talking about something, followed by a sharp bark of laughter from Nixon. Before I disappeared into the upstairs bathroom, I had told them I was going to watch the sunset by the lake and if I came back after dark to not worry about me. 

 Being extra careful in the gown, I descended the stairs. One foot at a time. One nervous breath at a time. Beyond aware of how different I looked. 

 As I stepped into view of those lounging around, most playing poker at a table in the middle of the room, silence struck. I could feel their eyes land heavily on me. 

 "Holy shit." Nixon said, mouth dropped open. 

 I stepped down the last two steps, brushing down my gown to smooth out the nonexistent wrinkles. I tried to tease, their amazed looks making me uncomfortable. "I swear, it's like you guys have forgotten I am in fact a woman."

 "Uh huh. Can't forget that right now." Nixon took a sip of his drink in hand. 

 Harry asked, a smirk on his face as tapped his cards against the table. "Where you going dressed like that?"

 "Going to watch the sunset." I reminded them. 

 "Dressed like that?!" Nixon sputtered then narrowed his eyes at me. "Looks like you're planning on meeting someone."

 "Does a woman have to dress up only for a man?" Before anyone could answer, I pointed a finger at the officers. "The correct answer is no. I can dress up for myself. I'll be back in a while." 

 "Y/n?"

 I looked at Winters, surprised to see him sitting in an armchair near the fireplace reading while the other officers were playing cards. "Sir?"

 "You look beautiful."

 "Thank you, sir." I smiled at Winters, receiving a soft one in return.

 "You got a weapon on you?" Speirs asked around a cigarette between his lips. 

 "Maybe." 

 He froze, then slowly pulled the cigarette out and started to rise from his seat. 

 "Christ! Yes! I've got my knife! Anything else, dad, or can I go now?"

 "Be smart, don't stay out too late or talk to any boys." He deadpanned, shuffling the cards in his hand. The gleam in his eyes let me know he was just teasing, but would also have no qualms stabbing anyone who bothered me. 

 Amidst the others chuckling, I groaned. "I'm leaving now."

 Quickly, I walked out before anyone could try and convince me to stay or worse- go change. 

 Thankfully, even in the fading daylight, the air was still somewhat warm where I did not need a shawl. I could hear some faint cheers from the enlisted men but I slipped behind the rows of houses and headed down the lakeside path. I walked towards my favorite spot overlooking the lake. Colors danced upon the water, making it appear as if on fire. A few ambitious stars peeked out from above in the sky painted by angels. Never before would I have imagined finding myself somewhere so absolutely gorgeous. If heaven was real, I hoped it looked like Austria. 

 Standing there, I found myself humming and gently swaying to a Billie Holiday song. My arms wrapped around myself loosely, I tried to soak in everything. I wanted to remember this moment forever, to create new memories to replace the bad ones. The nightmares. 

 "Blue moon you saw me standing alone

Without a dream in my heart

Without a love of my own…"

 "Y/n?"

 I turned to look over my shoulder, not expecting anyone else around. The voice was a dead giveaway but I was shocked our Cajun medic was down this way. "Hey, Gene."

 He stood several paces from me; his medic satchel, that he never went anywhere without, hanging off his side. He stared at me for a long moment, eyes dancing over me in a way that made me self-conscious of how much skin showed. Suddenly, he blinked rapidly as if waking from a dream. "What…" he cleared his throat, "what are you doin' here?"

 "Watching the sunset." I glanced over my shoulder at the lake then looked back at him. 

 "Mmm...dressed like you should be in the pictures?"

 I laughed, even as I felt my face warming. I ran my hands over the gown, still in awe that I was wearing something so expensive. For the most part of the past 4 years, I had been caked in grime and sweat; even though my skin was clean now, I felt too dirty to wear something so fine. 

 "I've never worn anything like this. I just...wanted to do something...for myself."

 "Mmm… well, I'll leave you be. Goodnight." With a single nod, he hesitated then turned around, beginning to walk up the path back to the houses. 

 "You know…" I said loudly, watching his feet still as he turned back around to look at me. "It would be a shame to be dressed up and not able to dance."

 He ducked his head slightly, a bashful smile on his face. I could see the uncertainty on his face. The desire to dance, to hold me close but also the concern for crossing that unspoken line separating us. For two years we had been tiptoeing around our growing feelings. Both aware but never acknowledging. It was in the secret looks, the subtle soft touches, the constant desire to seek one another out amongst a crowd, the solace our presence created when together. The knowledge hung there between us, with one slip we would both fall headlong over that cliff. So we kept back, together as friends but separate as lovers, even if we could read the desire in one another's eyes. It was safer this way. 

 Until now. 

 Without a word, he slowly approached me, as if waiting for me to change my mind, to tell him no, to maintain our status quo. My lips only turned up in a smile as he drew closer, encouraging him, telling him I wanted this. He dropped his satchel carefully on the ground. Our eyes locked, both aware of how this moment could change everything we had built. Carefully, he reached forward and clasped my hand, pulling me into his body. My lips parted on a quiet gasp, feeling his warm breath span across my face, his hand holding mine… and for once, neither one of us was covered in the blood of a fellow paratrooper. I lifted my hand to his shoulder, the muscles tensing underneath my palm. When he made no further movement, I grabbed his other hand and placed it on my waist. For a moment I thought he would reject this, to walk away as he seemed to stay frozen. Then with the softest whisper of my name, as if that was the key to unlock this moment, he pulled me even closer and took the lead. 

 In the stolen evening gown I found and Gene in his ODs, we danced. Like there was no war to haunt us. No rules against fraternizing. No fear of the future that lay before us. It was just him and I, in this moment of beauty and joy and life. We danced. He led me in a simple box step. Our pounding heartbeats, the fluttering of my gown and the soothing sound of the lake lapping on its shore, the only soundtrack we needed. 

 "You are beautiful."

 My face heated up at the compliment. "It's the dress and lipstick."

 "Non, mon chérie." He drawled in that perfect accent and tipped my face back to meet his soft gaze. "It's you. It's always been you."

 I stared into his soulful eyes, a new burning in them. Where once it had only been a candle trying desperately to beat back the darkness; now a bonfire replaced it. Something darkness knew it could never defeat. This man who held me so tenderly, like I was some kind of priceless gem, who had seen the brutality and horrors of war but still kept going, still trying his hardest to save his men even when others would have given up. He was beautiful, both inside and out. 

 "You need to stop lookin' at me like." He whispered; eyes glued to mine. 

 It was when he spoke, I realized we were no longer dancing. When had we stopped? Our bodies were still pressed together, our fingers now entwined but our feet rooted to the path. The air between us felt anything but still. An ardent intensity hovered between us, binding us to the moment, preventing us from escaping it. The sounds around us disappeared. All I could see, all I could feel and sense and taste… was him. 

 "Why?" I asked, my voice breathy. 

 "I might be tempted to mess up your lipstick."

 A nervous giggle escaped me. Instead of dispelling the profound moment, it only seemed to enhance it. With deliberate slowness, I moved my hand on his shoulder to the back of his neck. "I wouldn't mind."

 His hand moved to cup my cheek, holding me still as he leaned in. His lips ghosted over mine, the sweetest of sensations. It sent sparks shooting through me. After he leaned back just out of lips reach. Our eyes met once again, our breathing quickening even from the faint touch. As if our bodies were synced, I rose up at the same time he leaned forward. This time when our lips met, it was with a kiss long overdue. Our lips molded to one another, basking in the taste of the other. Both my hands slipped to the nape of his neck. His hand on my cheek drifted to the back of my head, keeping me from moving away. His other hand slid to my lower back, drawing me closer… and closer.

 The kiss deepened, pulling long dormant feelings from both of us, now finally exposed without reprimand. In the midst, his hand snaked up my side to brush a thumb over the underside of my breast. At the sensation, I gasped in the kiss, surprised by his forwardness. Surprised by the pure wanton need it shot through me. As my lips parted in the gasp, his tongue thrust into my mouth like he owned it. As if he needed more of my taste. Needed more of me. As if a simple kiss would never be enough. Not to him. He quickly drew my own tongue in a dance that soon left my knees weak and wobbling. I found myself clinging to him, not just in desire, but also to keep me upright, else I melted into a puddle of sheer bliss. 

 All too soon, we were forced apart by our lungs screaming for air. He pressed his forehead to mind, his hand still skimming my side from my hip to the underside of my breast and back down. 

 "It’s you. It’s always been you." He whispered as if finally able to confide his deepest secret. The words spilling forth like water out of cracks in a dam, held back for too long. "Since I first talked to you in Toccoa about tryin' to sneak a laxative into Sobel's coffee. And in Bastogne… you were always there for me. Checkin' on me. Makin' sure I knew I wasn't alone. But we're in a goddamn war and I couldn't say nothin'. Seein' you standin' out here, lookin' like an angel, I just...I had to…"

 I pressed a finger to those kiss-swollen lips of his, silencing the onslaught of secrets. "Gene, I'm going to need you to stop talking and kiss me again."

 He smirked, nuzzling my neck for a second. When he spoke, I could feel his hot breath and lips against my skin. "Yes, ma'am."

 This time there was no hesitation, no wavering in dilemma. Our lips touched and it felt like it was meant to be. No great fireworks in the night sky, no great orchestra announcing our love. It felt more like two puzzles pieces finally fitting together. Like the sun peeking through on a cloudy day. It was perfect. 

 When we broke apart again, I felt delirious with joy and the look on his face said something similar. I laid my head on his chest, his arms wrapping around my waist. Bodies pressed against one another, molded together like clay. Without a word, we began swaying. The soundtrack of our shared heartbeats and the lake's waves drowning out anything else. 

 Nothing in the world had changed. We were still paratroopers occupying Austria. Men were still dying. The war was still going strong in the Pacific. Evil endured. 

 But in this moment, in our own little world. 

 Everything changed. 

[pinkhairedjoon]

10 signs you’re reading a neusex/n-eusex production (aka a writing project/collab/rp)

(fr thank u sm @ayzrules for tagging me - this has been really fun to think about and just reflect on past projects!!! ily!!!)

1. a great, big, endgame romance/ship/pairing - (#Lucy/Johnny, Haya(!!), Mijoon, Wonyeon - there’s others, but I really don’t want to expose myself like this) I also don’t think I’ve worked on a single writing project in my life that doesn’t include some form of romance? And basically since 2015, my writing has all focused on three specific ships (literally spent probably over a year just writing Haya AUs and .... some of my best writing, if I’m being honest). I love really delving deep into two characters as individuals and then seeing their romance play out throughout different situations? Literally just the idea of two people finding each other over and over again in every universe warms my heart and no, you will not stop me.

2. celebrities disillusioned with fame - (Lucy, Holland, Belle, Harry, Saya, Mijoo, Thaís) I did not realize that I wrote this trope so much until doing this rn LOL but basically I write a lot of famous characters?? and they Don’t Like It - or really their relation to fame is distant, either achieved through family or circumstance (a few musicians too, another common character I use I guess lmaooo) and they struggle with the parameters of that. I think a lot of these characters went through really tumultuous shit as a result of the fame? and often times were just met with some wildly unwanted/unintended consequences... and man I just love to write Suffering™️.

3. addiction (CW) [specifically in relation to drugs/alcohol] - (Holland, Saya, Thaís) I think this relates to 2 in that I have a lot of characters who rely on their addictions (specifically to drugs and alcohol) in order to deal with/distract themselves from the suffering that, I their creator, inflict on them? not to downplay addiction - I’ve been around it a lot before and I think a lot of times, myself included, people can come to rely on these vices as coping mechanisms in ways that can definitely escalate/impact ones life in a detrimental way. so I think that interpersonal relationship between one’s trauma and how they deal with that ultimately is something I tend to explore often? (thanks to my own trauma lmao) and it’s something I usually have my characters avoid until it ends up confronting them head on.

4. imagery related to space/moon/sun/stars/nature - (Haya, Holland, Mijoo, my old Nano novels that I try not to think about ever again) I just think I tend to be really unoriginal and there’s so many cheesy references in old Haya stories related to moon/sun/stars stuff. and Holland is a big one since she was an astrophysicist who would just have these rambling stream of consciousness discussions on matters related to space / astronomy but somehow tie it all back to things goin on in her life? but I think I always really like to set up certain imagery to be reoccurring so you feel like you’re witnessing all these little callbacks later down the line. for some reason these specific themes(?) are just the ones I’ve been known to reuse that immediately come to mind. (me and my damn moon tattoo smh).

5. a Bad Parent™️ - (Holland, Belle, Saya, Mijoo, Jiyeon, litcherally every single character I write lmao) tl;dr I have a Bad Parent™️ so I straight up write a character beefing with (always just one) of their parents. *insert John Mulaney we don’t have time to unpack all of that.gif here*

6. miscommunication/Just Plain Bad Communicating, Man - (Harry/Saya, Belle, Jiyeon/Jiwon, Thaís/Rio - pretty much everyone again lmao). Honestly I love creating very simple problems that could easily be solved if people actually communicated in a healthy manner ghfdjksl. 

7. the “Guy’s”/Cool Girl™️ - (Lucy, Belle, Saya, Jiyeon - the list goes on) I’m sorry I’m like this but I really just like making these badass girl characters who tend to be surrounded by a lot of men in their life and that’s made a very obvious influence on them? (I think Lucy, Belle, and Saya all in particular saw themselves mainly with males as friends/coworkers/main family figures in their life, and so they tend to think/act in a way some would not typically code as ‘female’, if that makes sense?)

8. Friends (occasionally first with Benefits/Sometimes Enemies) to Lovers - (Haya, Holland/Nate, Bellam, Zelle, Mijoon, Wonyeon - again, I could go on) I like Making Life Hard™️ so I’ve done the fwb trope a lot (Haya, Wonyeon) [tbh I’ve experienced that dynamic a lot in life so it’s something I think I fall back on? lmao] and I just.... I think there’s something really special in having a close relationship with someone before it turns romantic/sexual and just knowing that person so well and loving them despite and because of that.... 

9. Pet-Owners 🥺- (Haya, Mijoon, Jiyeon, Thaís) I mean this one’s a throw-away can you tell I’m running out of ideas?

10. There’s a Me in My Protagonist? More Likely Than You Think - (Lucy, Saya, Mijoo). I really do put a lot of my own traits into my protagonists (they all tend to be geminis after all) but I think that’s really a given? and just dealing with their growth as individuals often helps me come to terms with my own? IDK there’s something to this!!!

tagging anyone who wants to do this!!! @infateuation @digidream (lowkey.... idk many writing friends on tumblr I’m sorry!!!)

[tree-whisper]

I was tagged by @mar-zelle for a 10 song play list. She had a few I would chosen so… here are mine

Listen to the music- Doobies

It’s for You- Pat Metheny/Lyle Mays

Fly like an Eagle- Steve Miller (Midnight Special live)

Echoes - Pink Floyd( The Pompei version)

Solsbury Hill- Peter Gabriel

When the Levee Breaks- Zeppelin

Close to the Edge- Yes

Puppet String- Umphrey’s McGee (9-4-12)

Heart of Glass-Blonde (Midnight Special)

Going to California- Zeppelin the best is 9-29-71

Lots of live stuff- most you can watch/listen on YouTube…. I’ll tag whoever is interested in continuing.