#there will probably be more sangria

[poet-tree-lines]

since the weather changed again I wanted to put my 'Liquid Warmth’ mulled wine (not ‘mold’ wine eugh) recipe out there

- 1 bottle fruity wine (substitute for other wines at your own risk/discretion) - 1 stovetop burner & suitable size pot (2-3 liter? gallon?) - 1 bottle/package/serving of mulling spices mix (IKEA makes a bottle, some place make a box mix, World Market has I don’t know what since it’s in german, you can also apparently sub in a thing of sangria mix, I don’t care)

- 1 bag of apple cider tea AND/OR - spices of your choice (think nutmeg, cloves, cinnamon, etc., but keep in mind this is fruit themed)

Dump everything but the tea (if you’re using it) into a pot on the stove.

Set the stove to medium heat

Let it heat up. Bring it almost but not quite to a boil

Add tea (if you’re using it)

Let simmer (low low heat) for 15 min. or until you’re ready to serve it, whichever comes first

Pour into cups and consume, once it has reached a drinkable temperature

[cielospeaks]

canon: -retcons things for no reason-

canon: -insults my favorite character and villifies them/gives them motivation that doesnt make sense-

me:

unrealistic narrator:

[moonstruckme]

Thawing Out

collab with @ellecdc

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5

cw: modern au, alcohol, brief talk of injuries/chronic pain

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 1.4k words

“Oi! What’s this?” 

You sit up from your stretch with a sheepish look on your face, legs spread out on either side of you on Sirius’ rug. 

“You know there’s no practice during lounge time,” he scolds. 

You roll your eyes but come out of your split, standing to take the drink Sirius holds out for you. “I just felt a little tight.” 

“Probably because of how hard you’ve been working at not jumping.” He clinks his glass against yours, taking a hearty sip. 

You copy him, and your face scrunches. “Oh, my god.” You sound like you’re fighting a gag. “What’s in this?” 

“It’s sangria.” Sirius’ voice is a bit wounded. Which feels appropriate, because you’ve just reacted to his sangria like it’s petrol. 

“You mean there’s a whole bowl of it?” 

“That’s how it typically works.” He takes another sip, swishing it around his mouth a bit. It’s really not bad. “I make drinks, babe. Not juice.” 

“I’m going to have to revoke your drink making privileges again after this,” you sigh, folding one leg under you as you sit down on the couch. You take another sip, tentative and with narrowed eyes like you’re suspicious of the liquid in your glass, but this time you swallow without complaint. “Do you really think I’m working hard at not jumping?” 

Sirius grimaces. He should have known better than to think he could breeze by a comment like that. 

“Listen,” he says, “he’s not wrong about everything. I mean, about most things, definitely—” you give a little smile, the reward he was seeking “—but he’s got a point on this one. I can feel you tensing right before the jumps. Before a lot of things, actually. You’re holding yourself back.” 

You rub your lips together, a nervous tic of yours that torments Sirius like nothing else. He fights the urge to lick his own lips in response. 

“Do you remember what Peter said about my jumps?” you ask him. 

Sirius feels his mouth twist with a malice not meant for you. He tries to quell it. But fuck—why are you still thinking about that wanker? 

Peter Pettigrew was a mistake in trust Sirius never should have made. His judgment has always been wonky where James is concerned; Peter was James’ friend, so he was Sirius’ by default, but Sirius still should have known better than to bring him around you. 

Before, there would have been three of you here. Peter used to like to sit on the couch with Sirius, and you were more than happy to lounge around on the rug and stretch, no matter how many times Sirius told you to lay off yourself and relax for once. He was totally prepared to have to shoot you down if you suggested inviting Remus tonight, but despite how comfortable you seem to have become with your new coach over the last couple of weeks, you haven’t seemed inclined to bring your relationship outside the rink. Sirius is grateful. Now that it’s just the two of you, he intends to keep it that way. It had more than stung to learn that Peter sold the both of you out, but it was worse knowing that Sirius could have avoided it had he simply used the acumen he’d always prided himself on to sniff out the rat before it happened. 

Fuck, the sangria is already going to Sirius’ head; he has half a mind to go to the pillock’s apartment and burn it down. If Peter’s half as smart as he thinks he is, he’ll have already moved. 

“No,” Sirius says, already tired with this conversation. He takes another lengthy sip from his glass. “What did he say?”

You curl your feet a little closer to you, and—yep, if Peter’s ever stupid enough to come within Sirius’ sight again, he’s going to knock his fucking teeth out. “He told the other coach that I was one bad jump away from injuring myself into an early retirement.” 

From your weary tone, Sirius can guess that you’ve memorized it verbatim. 

“He didn’t know what the fuck he was talking about,” he tells you firmly. 

Your voice gets smaller. “He usually did.” 

Your defeat hits Sirius right in the center of his chest. It makes his wrath fizzle. He doesn’t like to think about Peter’s better qualities, but you’re not wrong. He wasn’t always a complete idiot when it came to coaching. 

You lean your head on the couch cushion, and Sirius mirrors you unthinkingly. 

“You think you’re going to get hurt.” His voice comes out even softer than he intends. It’s a question, and also not. 

You nod anyway. “I can’t stop thinking about it. I know I’m messing us up, but I don’t want to fall and then not be able to compete.” 

Sirius’ mind flashes to Remus, to his grimace when he stands from the bleachers, the limp he tries to hide. From your expression, you’re thinking about him too. 

“You’re not messing us up, love.” The endearment slips out too easily, Sirius’ throat all buttered up by sympathy and booze. “Only yourself. You’re falling more now than you did before, you do realize that?” 

Your expression creases slightly, which is answer enough. 

“Every time you tense up or hold yourself back,” he says, “you’re more at risk for a bad fall than you would be if you committed. I’ve seen you fall more in the last couple of weeks than I think I ever have. Whatever Pete—Peter—was talking about, you’re only as much at risk of getting hurt as everyone else that’s as good a skater as you are—I mean, you have the skill to protect yourself, you’re just not using it. You trying to play it safe is less safe than when you didn’t worry about it.” 

You sit with this for a minute, rubbing your lips together thoughtfully. Sirius notices that at some point, you’ve nearly drained your glass as well. 

“Oh,” you say simply. 

He can’t help the grin that splits his face. “Oh?” 

“I hadn’t quite thought about it like that.” You take another sip, eyes stuck in the middle distance. 

“You can just say I’m the wisest person you know. It’s all right.” 

Your gaze cuts to him. “Would you like that engraved on a trophy?”

Sirius feels his smile grow. “Sure, I’ll add it to my collection.” 

“Oh, you are insufferable,” you chuckle. “Don’t think it was your original idea, though, was it?” A grin spreads across your face, one Sirius doesn’t like very much. “In fact, I think you’ve just agreed with Remus. Quite heartily.” 

Sirius feels his mouth pucker in distaste. “That was incidental.” 

Your laughter is diabolical. He wonders whether you were quite so wicked before you met him; it’s impossible to say, now. 

“Should I skip practice tomorrow?” you ask gleefully. “That way you two can spend the entire time waxing poetic about how right the other is.” 

He levels you with a dead stare. “Don’t fool yourself, doll. You like me too much to condemn me to such a cruel fate.” 

“You’re so full of it.” You roll your eyes with a smile, swirling your glass. “He is sort of your type, isn’t he?” 

Sirius’ throat nearly hurts from the force of his scoff. “What—dull, stubborn, and pompous? Fuck off.”

You hum, your gaze playful. “But also quite fit, right?” 

Sirius narrows his eyes at you, but that only makes yours twinkle more. He feels it like tiny little firecrackers in his gut. Even though you’re only teasing, he can see where you’d get the idea. When Sirius dates boys, he tends to go for ones taller than him, with Remus’ same lissom frame and enigmatic allure. But with Remus, there is no enigma; he’s a tosser, clear as day. And truly, Sirius hasn’t found anybody as lovely as you in some time. 

“Sounds like you’re the one who fancies him,” he says, keeping his voice light. He makes his expression go impish and teasing. “We can both do better, don’t you think?” 

You roll your eyes, but your expression is inscrutable as you take another sip from your glass. Until you take another sip, that is. Then, your lip curls. “Ugh, we can certainly do better than this. Do you have something I could add to it?” 

“You want me to let you sully my creation,” Sirius deadpans. 

“I want you to let me make your monstrosity potable.”

“I’ll make you a deal,” he says. “I’ll let you, but then no more shop talk for the night.” 

You grin, sitting up. “I promise.” 

“There’s orange juice in the fridge.” 

[wardenparker]

Woo hoo! Way to go on the 2.5k followers! You deserve it

I would like to request Joel Miller w/ “put me down”

Pre-outbreak Joel Miller 1,642 words. "Put me down." Co-written with @absurdthirst

Reader has been drinking. Established relationship. Jealousy.

Joel rolls his eyes, wondering again what the hell is in the air tonight. He’s glad Sarah has already gone to bed, although she would probably be snickering at the scene. “Babe, maybe you should slow down.” He grunts swiping the beer bottle that he had been nursing and tossing it into the trash.

“Baby, it’s game day,” you protest with a giggle, even though you know he’s probably right. You made your sangria much stronger than usual and you’ve had more than a few cups while hanging out with his friends.

“Yeah it is.” You’re having fun, which is something that he would normally never deny you. Although it seems like you’ve gotten a little….boisterous in the last half hour. “How about we get a sandwich?” He suggests, thinking the bread would be good to help counteract the wine sloshing around in your stomach.

"But we have so many snacks!" The remnants of a chip and veggies and dip plate, the garnishes from a pile of wings, and the last two cookies from the batch Tommy baked are all out on the counter around you, but none of it constitutes actual eating.

He snorts, shaking his head at your wild flailing as you gesture around the counter and miss when you go to grab a chip. “Yep, sandwich.” He grunts to himself, turning around to grab the loaf of bread off the counter. “Or a wrap?”

"Can you be my wrap?" Alright, so you might be a bit tipsy. If the intense giggling from your silly joke is any indication. That doesn't mean you don't want to take advantage of the fact that you're the only two people in the kitchen right now to snuggle up with your boyfriend.

That makes him laugh, rolling his eyes at your antics and he turns to press his lips to your forehead. “You’re drunk.” He accuses fondly.

"Not totally," you protest, pouting at him as deeply as possible.

“Totally.” Joel laughs, leaning in and squashing your lips between his fingers playfully until you pull back. “Eat a wrap then you can have a glass of water.”

"And a kiss." Tacking that onto the end with a grin, you pull your arms around him so he can't pull away to do anything – let alone make a wrap or get a glass of water.

“And a kiss.” If you hadn’t almost started a fight, your possessiveness might be cute. Amusing even. But you had almost been ready to throw hands and he didn’t need the cops showing up here tonight.

"Oh-kay." The pleasant buzzing in your head and the fact that that bitch Larry Anderson had brought with him isn't in here to eye fuck Joel, combine to put you in a very amenable mood.

“Good.” He pecks your lips and reaches behind you to open the fridge. “Ham, or…ham?” He asks, the fridge slightly bare, but in his defense, he had been buying for the party and not wraps.

You hum, pretending to think really really hard, and realize you've forgotten the question while you were screwing up your face into comical expressions. "Ummm...wine?"

“Jesus.” Joel rolls his eyes and moves to the cabinet beside the fridge. “Water now.” He orders, tone a little sharper than before. He doesn’t want you with a bitch of a hangover tomorrow.

"Don't be mad." A pout overtakes your face immediately, but you lean against the kitchen counter and prepare to take whatever Joel dishes out. Even tipsy you know you probably overdid it earlier. It's not your fault that girl wouldn't take 'no' for an answer.

“I’m not.” He grabs a plastic cup, not even trusting you with a glass one at this point. “I just want you to be well hydrated.”

"Well..." The best you can do is shrug, but you're still pouting. "You sound mad."

“And I always look like an asshole.” Joel reminds you with a small chuckle. “So….?”

"I had to be mean to her." He pulls one of Sarah's plastic cups out of the cupboard and moves back to the fridge to fill it with cold, filtered water. "She was looking at you like you were a piece of meat, baby."

“Doesn’t matter.” He reminds with, turning around to hand the cup to you with a smirk. “I’m yours.”

Joel always takes care of you, and you know that even after two too many glasses of sangria, so you take the water cup dutifully. "I knowww. You're my piece of meat. But she wasn't respecting that and that's not okay."

“You don’t need to worry.” He promises softly, moving back to the fridge. “She doesn’t have anything on you.”

"I trust you," you clarify, dutifully sipping the water that he's gotten for you. Joel's loyalty has never been in question. Not when you were friends, not when you crossed the line into dating, and not now that you're living with him and Sarah. But the sangria had made you feisty and that was that.

“Good.” He chuckles as he slaps together some ham and a thick slice of that Muenster cheese you insist is better than Kraft. “Because you are the one sleeping in my bed, hogging the covers.”

"I keep telling youuuu." The singsong in your voice is interrupted by another drink of water. "We need a king-sized blanket. A big blanket. For us two hogs."

“I just will shiver every night.” He teases, folding the wrap up like a letter and handing it to you to eat. It wasn’t pretty, but he never claimed to be a good cook.

"But we could be warm snuggly burritos!" You insist, which is always the argument you give for why you should get an extra-large blanket for the queen sized bed you share, but this time you take a dramatic bite of the wrap he's made for you to punctuate your point.

“You would just steal all of those covers too.” He reminds you, leaning back against the counter as he eat watches you eat.

Giggling, you hold up one finger, crushing your wrap into an accordioned lump in the process. "One snuggly burrito."

“You might be a little cute when you’re this drunk.” Joel huffs, folding his arms over his chest.

"Baby..." Trying very hard to make your face serious fails spectacularly, and you end up giggling again. "I'm always cute. You said so."

“I did, didn’t I?” He huffs. “Finish eating and we’ll go back out to the party.” He bribes.

“Okayyyyyy.” It doesn’t stop you from leaning into his side though, and Joel lets you snuggle him without protest or question.

You eat the wrap quickly, making Joel think that one of your problems might be that you haven’t eaten today. When you reach for the veggies and dip, he encourages you to eat some of it too, not wanting you to have just the wrap on your stomach. Not having realized you were hungry in the first place, you’ve now eaten an entire meal standing in the kitchen and the pout you give Joel afterward intensifies. “Now I’m sleepy…” you huff, indignant at yourself for daring to be tired during a house party. Even a small one.

He chuckles quietly and pushes off the counter to walk over to where you had drifted away from him. Grazing off the table. Smirking, he bends down and scoops you up, about to carry you upstairs.

The squawk you let out could raise the dead, but he laughs so it ends up in half-hearted huffing and puffing as he carries you up the backstairs. “Put me doooowwwn! I can walk!” Not that you actually want him to, of course. Being manhandled by Joel is a privilege.

He smacks your ass, laughing again when you squeal. “No.” He tells you, continuing to climb the stairs. “You’ll go back out into the living room and fight that girl.”

“She put her tits in your face!” You groan, not bothering to fight as more stairs pass under Joel’s feet. He’s far stronger than you anyway. “Only my tits go in your face.”

You’re possessive when you’re drunk and it’s kind of hot. “I like your tits in my face.” He hums, grabbing your ass this time instead of slapping it. “That’s why I stood up. So she couldn’t do that.”

“And I like your little pancake ass,” you giggle, smacking his ass as he goes. Slinging you over his shoulder was a tactical error on Joel’s part.

“Hey.” Joel’s step falters and he snorts as you start to giggle. “Payback, huh?”

“Yep!” Another bright giggle breaks through as he hits the top step.

“You need to go to bed.” He huffs, shaking his head.

He carries you into the bedroom, only setting you down again when it can be directly on the bed. Before he can step away, though, you reach up to snag the edge of Joel's t-shirt and give him a soft smile. "I love you, baby."

“I love you too.” He promises, leaning back down to kiss you softly. “Lay down, I’ll get you some aspirin and water.”

"Then cuddles?" When you're tipsy – or drunk – it's not hard to turn almost any expression into wide, pleading eyes. In this case, it's the wide and pleading eyes that you know Joel just can't resist.

Joel sighs softly, knowing you are feeling a little vulnerable and he nods. “Fuck ‘em.” He decides. “Tommy can keep their asses in line.” He tells you as he brings the bottle of Advil and the cup of water from the bathroom.

“Cuddles!” Maybe it’s simple of you, but ending any night in Joel’s arms is all you want. All you’ve wanted for years now. The day you went from friends to lovers was a gift, and that gift is just as precious to you now as it was then.

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

My Masterlist!

[tlou-reid]

Wine-Tainted Water ❤︎ Spencer Reid

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸 READ: this account stands with palestine, and so— i require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate. READ THESE; 1 and 2, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. silence is complicity, do not scroll past this.

♡ SUMMARY: after a night out with their team, spencer and his lover take a bath together. based on one line of dress by taylor swift.

♡ WARNINGS: alcohol, reader and spencer are drunk, grossly cute fluff, not edited and in all lowercase

♡ NOTE: this is probably my favorite thing i've ever written

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

“i’m spilling wine in the bathtub. you kiss my face and we’re both drunk. everyone thinks that they know us. but they know nothing…”

you were too drunk to understand how the rest of the team didn’t see you and spencer sneak into the same uber. you were sure spencer would also question how you two got away with it, if it were something he was bothered to consider. but, right here with you, the rest of the team was the last thing on his mind.

despite his knees being pressed almost all the way to his chest and his arms being haphazardly thrown over the side of the tub, there was no other position he’d want to be in right now.

you were laughing at something he said—that much he knew. your face was scrunched up and your smile was probably the biggest he’d ever seen it. the alcohol cursing through your blood was definitely aiding in your laughter. you were always a giggly drunk, spencer realized.

not that he was any better. he wasn’t sure if he was more love drunk or alcohol drunk. the bar the team had visited was running a special on vodka cranberries, and he had definitely had a few too many. he wasn’t sloppy drunk or not in control of himself drunk, but he was the kind of drunk that made the tips of your fingers go numb.

he was trying to gauge where you are on that spectrum. you had stuck to wine, so you aren’t feeling as dizzy as he currently is, but you had a few more than him.

spencer quickly gave up on trying to pinpoint your location on this imaginary drunk scale he’d made up. he was too entranced by the words you were attempting to form. “spence!” you cheered, holding out the wine class he’d teased you for grabbing.

“what are you doing?” spencer said with a teasing smile as you made your way to his kitchen cabinet. “you still have that bottle of sangria?” you asked, with a much more stable tone than you had now. “yes?” spencer was clearly confused, “i thought you wanted to take a bath?” you laughed in reply, “there’s no law against having wine in the bathtub.” he couldn’t argue with that.

that was probably over an hour now. the water had run cold and the vanilla scented bubble bath you’d dumped in was starting to fade.

“another glass?” he questioned, taking your glass and reaching for the bottle you’d propped up against the side of the bathtub. “mhm!” you nodded, stretching out your legs a little bit. neither of you were comfortable per say, but the alcohol and love in the air was easily masking the joint pain you were starting to experience. squeezing into a tub with a man as tall as spencer was not an easy feat, but you were desperate to make it work.

“do you think anyone noticed?” spencer asked, referring to your hasty exit from the bar. “i dunno,” you mumbled as he handed the glass back to you, “i don’t really care either.” for some reason, your simple reply made spencer smile. he also didn’t care, he decided as soon as the words left your mouth.

“plus,” you started after taking a sip of your wine. spencer could tell you were about to ramble. it was a thing in your relationship. if one of you wasn’t rambling, the other definitely was. and you both listened to each other carefully, never invalidating or rushing them. it was nice to be with someone who talked like he did, spencer thought.

“even if they did, they don’t really know.” you emphasized. “like, they only really know work us, y’know?” spencer didn’t know. the team was his family and definitely knew more about him than simply who he was at work. with one quirk of an eyebrow, however, he was able to get you to explain your train of thought.

“see!” you gestured to his facial expression. as your body excitedly moved to show that your point had been proven, even if spencer was still confused, your almost full wine glass shook, sending red sangria into the bath water. spencer held back his laugh as you gently splashed it towards him. you took another sip, before continuing your explanation.

“i was very easily able to tell you didnt understand what i was saying. because we know each other. really know each other. so who cares if they think we’re dating? i mean i’ve seen parts of you no one else has, like i’ve seen your butthole, spencer. has anyone else on the team seen your butthole? exactly.”

spencer couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled over from his throat. you were speaking so passionately and so clearly about this, it was the most adorable thing he’d ever seen. he couldn’t tell if the warmth radiating through his chest was from the alcohol or from the way you existed in this space. he never wanted to leave this bathtub.

spencer couldn't help himself as he launched forward. the wine-tainted water that went flying over the side of the tub would be a problem for tomorrow. right now, all he was worried about was pressing a million and one kisses to the part of cheek that bubbled up when you smiled. he gently caressed your face as he moved closer to you. not even the pain in his back from his sudden jolt forward could slow him down.

you grip tighten on your wine glass, making sure it was secure in your hand as spencer moved. the bathroom acoustics made your fit of laughter sound as perfect as beethoven's third sympony to spencer. your giggles bounced off the wall, right into his heart as he kisses moved from your cheeks to being peppered around your entire face. his hands moved down to your sides, pulling you closer to him.

"spencer!" you squealed as his fingers wiggled against your sides. you could feel your grip on your glass loosening as he tickled you. "spencer! stop!" you laughed, using your feet to push against his thighs, effectively pushing him away. the bathroom was silent as you both came down from the giggle high you'd been on.

after another sip of wine, you spoke, "what was that for?" there was no malice behind your words. no accusatory tone or anger from his actions. you were smiling, basking in spencer's rare show of affection. he simply shrugged, "i just love you," he declared. you, once again, giggled at his words, "i love you too."

spencer sighed, holding up his hand to show you his pruning fingers. he was starting to sober up, so the cold of the bath water was beginning to effect him. "it might be time to get out, love." your bottom lip jutted out, expressing a disappointment that was far too dramatic for his simple sentiment. "don't wanna," you mumbled, pulling your glass to chug the rest of the wine before spencer made you get up.

spencer let out a laugh as you chugged, encouraging you to keep going. you finished the glass incredibly quickly. "i'm getting cold," he cooed, grabbing the empty glass and placing it on the floor, out of the way of where either of you would step out of the tub. "m'kay," you mumbled, not wanting spencer to suffer at your expense. spencer slow stood, not wanting to get any more water on the floor. he reached for the towel on the rack, dropping in on the floor, protecting your feet from where he overflowed the water earlier.

"stay here," he instructed before stepping out. he went to grab another towel. he quickly threw one around his waist, before reaching for the fluffiest one he could find. he returned to the side of the tub, leaving the towel to rest on the sink.

"ready?" he questioned, holding out his hand for you to take. in your drunken state, you were extremely grateful for his help to get you on your feet. he held onto you as you stepped over the wall of the bathtub, and didn't let go until you were standing stable. then, he reached for the towel, wrapping you up in it's warmth.

he rubbed his hands along the sides of your body, drying it to the best of his ability. the smudged makeup and goofy smile that painted your face had his heart racing.

"you ready?" he gestured to the door as he spoke. you nodded in response, pulling the towel tighter around your body. "i don't want to go to work on monday," you informed him as you walked the hallway to your room. "me neither," he agreed, reaching in his drawer for two oversized shirts. he slipped on a pair of boxers before moving to grab your comfiest pair of underwear.

you had made yourself comfortable on the edge of the bed, not wanting to wet where you or spencer would lay down. "legs up," he mumbled as he bent down. he slid the underwear up your legs, and helped you lift your butt up when he got to the top. once you were comfortable in them, he slipped on his shirt.

"arms up," you nodded at his words, instantly shooting them straight up in the air. as he slid the shirt over your arms, you spoke. "can we watch love is blind?" your voice sounded tired, despite the facade you were keeping of being wide awake. "yeah," he promised as he helped you lay down. once you were dressed and covered, he moved to the other side of the bed. he climbed in next to you, and you tried to ignore the way your head spun as he shifted to get comfortable.

"do you wanna watch the new one?" he asked. "mhm," you hummed. he pressed play on it, knowing you'd be asleep by the time the intro scene ended.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Life in the City 1

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bad friends, creep behaviour, abuse of power dynamics, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You move to the big city and find yourself swallowed up by its chaos.

Characters: Clark Kent, Thor Odinson, short!reader

Note: Probably calling in today. Also will hopefully be working on more Dirty Work for tomorrow.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You’ve been waiting for Friday all week. You need this. A girl’s night, just you and Melanie, a bottle of wine, a bowl of popcorn, and your favourite nostalgic blockbuster. You even got a brand new pair of cozy jammies for the occasion.

And it’s your first official get together at your new apartment. Your very own. No more roommates, no more arguments over dishes and dust and a shared bathroom. It’s all yours! It’s almost like a housewarming, even if it is just a bachelor suite.

A new home, a new city, and an old friend. You haven't seen Melanie in years. You keep in touch here and there but she always seems to have so much going on. Now you're in the same place, it won't be so hard.

You bounce in the door, excited to get started on your prep. You leave your work bag in the entryway beside your shoes as your mind runs a mile ahead of you. You’ll fold out the futon couch and throw all your pillows on it. And the extra comforter can go on top. And you’ll put a scarf over the lamp, oh, and you got some candy for the spread. 

It’s a bit childish but it’s been so long since you could just throw away your daily toil and forget. No overtime, no grind, just a night to reconnect and refresh. You grab your bag from the short hallway and take out the clay masks you bought at the drugstore on your way home, you thought that would be so cute!

You pull out your phone and search for the digital rental on your account, wanting it ready to cast as soon as Melanie’s there. Your screen suddenly lights up with an incoming call, interrupting your browsing. You answer, excitedly greeting your best friend.

“Melly Bean,” you chime, “I was just getting everything ready–”

“Oh, really?” Her voice is willowy, “that’s… I’m sorry.”

“What?” You clutch your hand in front of your stomach, your chest filling with dread. You know that tone.

“I totally forgot and I made other plans–”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I know, it’s shitty but I really can’t cancel and we can do it next week, right? I’ll host. I have a bottle of rose here, or I could make some sangria–”

“Uh, yeah,” you feel like you’ve been punched, “yeah, sure, that’s… that’s fine. Things happen.” You shake your head at yourself as you try to stem your disappointment, “good thing I didn’t even get started…” You look at the futon, covered in pillows and the fluffy pink duvet, “I actually just got in the door, long day at work–”

“You ready?” A distant, deep voice creeps under your rambling from the speaker.

“Sorry, I gotta go,” she interrupts, “I’ll call you tomorrow, okay? Again, I’m sorry. I’m so stupid. I should’ve put it in my calendar.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” you assure her softly, “call me. Talk later, Mel–”

The line dies before you can finish your sentence. You pull the phone away and frown at the timed out call. You sniff and toss it onto the futon. Well, you can still have a good night. Alone. Catch up on a show and pamper yourself. Your skin is getting a bit patchy.

Or just lay here and watch the same thing you watch every night. Suddenly, you have no energy. You flop onto the mattress, the metal frame creaking loudly, and sigh. Another lazy night, all by yourself.

🏙️

Melanie doesn't answer your call on Saturday. You try not to dwell on it but you know she's not working. Her nine-to-five keeps her planted at her desk Monday to Friday, just like you. Well, you can't be mad at her for having a life.

She texts on Sunday. Just a short but sweet confirmation for next Friday. A heart emoji along with a promise that you'll see each other then. You can bring all your snacks and the face masks, and even your cute new pajamas. Her place must be a lot nicer than yours on her executive assistant salary.

A new week begins but Monday isn't as difficult as usual. You have something to look forward to. Again. This time, it will actually happen.

You spend your days with the spreadsheets and menial reports. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday all blend together into an endless slog but Friday comes around with a special shine. It's the day. 

You breeze through the day, lighter than usual. You even packed everything up so you could commute straight to Melanie's place. She's been texting, saying she's excited. Well, she sent a message at 10:38am. 

It'll be just like in high school, when you sat up all night and giggled. Except this time, you're not too young for the movie you're watching. No, you'll be just like the metropolitan women you watched on the screen, gal pals!

You take the twelve out towards the east side of the city and get off a few blocks from her building, at least according to your GPS. You walk in a full circle before you get your bearings and end up just outside the grated door. You tap the small button to buzz her number and wait. It's a lot fancier than your apartments.

You ring several times without answer, your stomach swimming with nerves. What if she got caught up in something? Could she forget in the  eight hours since her last message? Are you in the wrong place? You check the address again.

You hear someone come up the walkway and sidle aside to let them in. You consider sneaking in after them but you don't know if you should. They might not like that or you might get in trouble. You stand back as the man glances at you and gives a nod. He keys in a code and buzzes himself in. You scrunch your lips, helplessly floundering on the edge of the steps.

"Coming in?" He holds the door.

"Oh, uh," you catch the handle, "sure, I just... my friend wasn't answering."

"No worries, don't look like much of a criminal to me," he kids.

You chuckle quietly, forcing it out nervously as you follow him inside. The entryway is white with silver trimmings and the lobby opens up to a set of two elevators. You look at your phone again, confirming Melanie's apartment number. The man strides on confidently and hits the button, the doors dinging and sliding apart.

"Going up?" He prompts as he puts his hand in front of the censor.

"Uh, sure," you scurry forward. You suppose taking the stairs might be a lot with all the weight in your knapsack.

"Floor?" He trails you into the elevator.

"Um, seventh."

"Ah, what a coincidence," he taps seven and the doors close.

You bring up your chat with Melanie and text her. Hopefully, you're not too early. You don't want to surprise her. You key in that you're there and on your way up.

The door open again and the stranger once more lets you through first. You check the numbers on the plates on the wall; 700 - 710 to the right. You turn and the man heads in the same direction. How awkward. You hold the door to the hallway for him and he catches it, not far behind you. You count the doors until you find 704. 

You stop and knock, stepping closer to let the stranger pass. He doesn't. He stops and laughs as he rubs his palms together. You peek over at him. Oh shoot, you have to be in the wrong place. It explains the no answer and you're standing at his door knocking. You must seem like a crazy person--

The door opens before you can figure out what's going on and Melanie's 'hello' goes from a high squeal to dull disappointment. You look at her as her eyes flit between you and the stranger at your shoulder. She laughs and tosses her hair back.

"Oh, uh, come in," she waves you inside, "movie night, right?"

She rubs her neck as she steps aside, your stomach flipping entirely. Did she forget? Really?

"Um, I forgot to mention..." she says slowly, "Clark's joining us. He's never seen the movie before so I thought..."

"That's fine, but er, I can... just go. I thought..."

"I didn't forget," she insists as the man enters with hesitation, "promise, I just... invited my boyfriend."

"Right, boyfriend," you turn to the stranger, Clark, she said his name is, "hi."

You introduce yourself and he repeats his name. He's handsome and tall. As far as you can tell, he's nice too. The cleft in his chin gives him a rugged handsome news and his eyes a bright and blue. He fits Melanie perfectly. She's changed a lot more than you knew.

You give a strained smile and look around. Her apartment is so nice. You're happy she hadn't seen yours after all. As you try to figure out what to do, she approaches Clark and stands on her toes to kiss him. You keep your eyes on the floor and turn, distracting yourself with your shoes as you peel them off.

"I brought snacks," you say as you unhook your bag from one shoulder, "for the movie--"

"Oh, I'm on a diet. No carbs, no sugar... mostly water and lettuce," she trills, "sorry."

"I...It's okay," you try not to wince as you struggle to free yourself of the heavy bag.

"Here," Clark startles you as he grabs your bag by the handle on top and helps lift it off your left shoulder. You pull your arms free and he carries it to the table, planting it on top beside the tall vase of white orchids. 

"Thanks," you say as you inch forward, anxious about messing up the unlivable pristine apartment, "you can share the snacks... if you're not on a diet."

"I'd love to," he accepts, "should I make up the couch?"

"Uh, sure," Melanie flutters her fingers at him, "I guess that makes sense."

You notice how she bites into her glossy lower lip and looks around desperately. She's wearing a pretty black dress and there's a sparkly clutch on the half-circle table by the wall. You thought Melanie would be your one piece of home in the city but now you feel even more out of place. Uninvited.

"If it's a bad time," you begin.

"I told you," she snips, "I didn't forget. Duh, you think I'm an airhead or something?"

"N-no--"

"I know you went and got your fancy degrees," she sniffs, "but I don't need paper to tell me I have a brain."

"I didn't mean--"

"Mel, cool it," Clark chuckles lightly, "no biggie. I like a night in," he shrugs, "I'll grab some blankets and pillows. We can have a sleepover."

"Sleepover?" She nearly hisses at him, "well, tomorrow--"

"We'll all sleep in and I'll take you ladies to breakfast. Or brunch," he unzips your knapsack and takes out the tall bottle of wine, "depending on how much you indulge." 

"Oh, I can take care of all that," you offer as you near the table.

"You're our guest," he insists as he holds onto the bottle, "hon, you wanna get some glasses?"

You hear the gentle sigh escape Melanie before she replies, "fine."

You wring your hands in front of your chest and hover by the table. You hate this. You feel like you've intruded on their night but you thought...

Your heart sinks as you think of the message; 'looking forward to tonight'. She sent it to the wrong person. She must realise that too.

"Mel will pour us some wine," Clark says loudly, "did you wanna help my grab some blankets and stuff?"

You just nod, thankful for his diversion. Anything to keep you from wallowing in your embarrassment. Everyone there knows you're not supposed to be there. You must seem pathetic.

You follow him down the hall and wait on the other side of the closet door as he opens it. He hands you a folded down duvet. He sends you back to the living room as he goes to grab pillows from the bedroom. You get a glance of the sleek white vanity just as he opens the door.

You turn and traipse back to the front room. You go to the couch and shake out the blanket. You glance over as Melanie slurps loudly from a stemmed glass, the other two are unpoured.

"Really, Mel, I can just go--"

"No, it's fine," she huffs, "I don't want him to think I'm some sort of bitch."

"Oh, I wasn't--"

"You don't call to confirm?" She accuses.

"I texted and I buzzed--"

She shushes you as she hears Clark coming back down the hall. You leave the blanket across the sofa and go to the table. You pour the other two glasses and step back, too uneasy to claim one of your own. Instead, you busy yourself unpacking the snacks but you don't even know if you'll have any yourself.

"You girls sit," Clark insists as he drops the pillows on the sofa, "I'll get everything ready. Oh, hon, you should go put some pajamas on, get in the spirit. You could lend some to your friend too."

"Erm, I brought my own," you offer, "just... thought they were cute."

"Amazing, you two get changed, get cozy, and get the movie going," he grabs the bag of chips from your hands, "oh, and I'll get those kernels popping."

You nod and swallow as Melanie struts out without looking back. You retrieve your pajamas from your bag, brushing close to Clark by accident, and apologise. You quickly flit away to follow her, chasing after her right before she can close you out. You need to find an excuse to get out. Then you can think of how to say sorry for spoiling her date,

[capricornlevi]

noise complaints -- choso x reader

college au!choso x reader, RA!choso, secret relationship. wc 2.5k

MDNI, 18+ only. reader has a vagina but no gendered pronouns.

"he's at the door again!"

you hear utahime's shout from the bedroom next to yours but you don't answer, hoping she'll get the message from your pointed silence.

she doesn't.

"come on!" she protests through the paper-thin walls. "please! you're the only one he likes, we never get written up when you answer."

"turning the music down could help!" you shout back, but without much malice. it's 8pm on a friday, hardly unsociable hours, and the speaker isn't nearly as loud as some of the other dorms on your floor. it's not exam season; there's no reason why you need to be singled out for punishment.

plus, the only reason you're not in there with her -- drunkenly singing along to some autogenerated playlist that has 27 likes, sipping 'sangria' that's more like boxed red wine and soda -- is because she's on a date, one she's been looking forward to for some time now, one you helped her get ready for as she rambled anxiously about her plans for the evening.

you don't have it in you to begrudge her.

"fine," you sigh, rubbing your tired eyes with the back of your hand.

two voices cheer victoriously from next door.

"we love you!"

you chuckle to yourself before it gets cut off by a yawn.

tossing your phone onto the bedside table, you stand up, rolling out a knot in your shoulder that you know will only get worse as the evening progresses.

time to go see the RA.

the shy, reserved, yet surprisingly strict RA. the one who has a particular hatred for noise complaints.

he's still knocking at your door; like utahime, he clearly doesn't take silence for an answer. you speed up to answer it before your roommate feels to need to intervene herself.

as you make your way down the hall, you wonder absent-mindedly if you should've changed into something more ... formal. your vest is nearly see-through, the fabric light and flimsy, but you rationalise it away.

it's summer. it's insufferably hot in the dorms, too uncomfortable to wear anything other than the bare minimum.

you're sure he won't mind. he's probably hot as well.

not dwelling on those thoughts any further, you open the door to find what you expected to see -- choso standing there, holding the tablet that the RAs are issued with to log complaints on their floor, chipped black nail polish clearly visible as he tucks the device against his chest.

he's wearing all black - as per usual - but he's swapped his typical hoodie and jeans for a t-shirt and light sweats, looking a little self-conscious as your eyes flicker up and down while taking in the change in outfit.

you grin. it's really endearing.

"hi, choso."

"hi," he replies, a blush staining his cheekbones already. his dark hair is swept back in its usual hairstyle, a few soft strands falling into his eyes before he brushes them out of the way. he gives you a look you're all too familiar with, peering up at you through frustratingly perfect eyelashes, dark brown eyes meeting yours with a forced confidence "you ... you probably know why i'm knocking."

"i can guess," you answer plainly, still smiling at him as he puts in significant effort in keeping his eyes fixed on your face.

he bites his lip, a silver ring catching the light as it shifts. "okay. the same as before, then."

"so you're here about the noise?" you offer innocently, gesturing down to utahime's room.

he looks confused for a moment, thin brows furrowing as he tries to piece together your reasoning.

eventually, he seems to understand what you're getting at. he raises his voice just loud enough that utahime can hear from down the hall.

"yeah, the noise. got a report in a few minutes ago, so --"

"of course," you reply diligently. "i understand."

"uh ... good. so we're clear, then."

he trails off a little awkwardly, and if it weren't for the darkening of his pupils you'd think he was actually discouraged by your responses. you wonder if you've put on too good of a show.

not willing to let that happen, your grin deepens as you lift your hand, take him by the collar and drag him in for a messy kiss, barely letting the door close behind him as you pull him inside.

the awkward, shy version of choso nearly disappears the moment his lips meet yours again; he's voracious, hungry, the cool metal of his piercing hitting off your teeth as he deepens the kiss within moments of touching you.

you're still just as surprised by this side of him, this layer you didn't know he had, the same as you were the first time this happened. you relish every time you get to see it.

from what he's alluded to before, nobody else has the privilege.

"w-wait," you whisper against his lips, kiss-slick and already swollen, "you have to be quiet. she ... it's too early for her to find out."

instead of answering, he fixes his lips to your pulse point, suckling at your neck as he backs you against the wall, your shoulderblades hitting against the cold plaster and raising your skin to goosebumps.

"choso -- choso, i'm not kidding," you protest half-heartedly, the whisper already torn and desperate. "we need to -- we need to get to my room, ok? then we can do whatever --"

before you've even finished the sentence he pulls back, face now fully flushed but not from embarrassment, not from self-consciousness.

"or i can eat you out right here?" he offers quietly, one hand on your waist as the other drifts lower, trailing up your thigh and along the hemline of your skirt. against your better judgment, your hips start to shift, chasing his touch, the sensation you know only his fingers can bring.

just then, the music coming from utahime's room pauses, plunging the apartment into a sudden silence.

choso's hand stills on your thigh; you barely breathe as you listen intently, waiting for utahime to burst through the door and discover you here in the most compromising of positions.

thankfully, it's just her switching the song. seconds later the music starts to play again and you hear her date's voice sing along, blissfully unaware of what's happening just feet away from them both.

taking that as a sign to retreat to your bedroom, you take choso's hand and guide him down the hall, single-minded in your goal.

he lets you, knowing that it will pay off.

once you're safely hidden away in your room, you move in tandem as he backs you up towards your twin bed, his lips only leaving your jawline when he needs to catch his breath.

this is going to be really fun.

before you can even repeat your warning to stay quiet, you're lying flat on your back on the mattress, your already-short skirt hiking up your thighs as you settle against the sheets.

choso grins when he sees your nipples pebble against the thin fabric of your vest. his hands trail up your body, thumbs tracing lazy circles as you wriggle to try and shimmy out of your clothes.

he doesn't rush you, though. from the look on his face, you'd guess he could just play with your tits all evening and be more than satisfied.

but you're not of the same opinion. you need his touch somewhere else, need it to the point of aching, and you tell him as much.

he's not the type to tease with words. he's quiet, deliberate, even right now -- but he doesn't need to say what he wants to do out loud. you know with just a look, the way his tongue plays with his lip piercing, the imprint of his cock through his sweats.

even though you've been in this exact situation before, you can't tear your eyes away from the sight of choso getting on his knees before you, tugging your underwear down your legs and pressing wet kisses to your sensitive inner thighs.

you almost cry out before remembering to cut yourself off. hastily covering for yourself, you start to warn him;

"we need to stay --"

"yeah, quiet. i know," he whispers with a smile, not willing to protest too much given the situation he's in now, the one he's pictured every time he's touched himself this past week, since he met you in the abandoned study closet on the third floor on saturday.

since he fucked you against the wall till tears streamed down your cheeks, until your thighs shook around his trim waist, limbs turned to jelly as he wrung orgasm after orgasm from you.

"promise?" you whisper with a little smile, knowing it won't affect your own answer.

your underwear now tossed to the side, he takes his thumb and index finger and spreads you open, the cool air over your exposed flesh making you gasp, reverent in how he looks at you.

"i'll try," comes his hushed answer, before he dips his head in to taste.

the first slide of his tongue has your breath catching in your throat, spine already arching off the bed as he moves slowly, methodically, savouring your taste before circling back on your clit, dragging the tip of his tongue over the hood.

his grip on your thighs is strong but it needs to be in order for you to stay any bit still; you squirm against him, his nails leaving crescent indentations in your skin as he keeps you steady.

at the first broken cry of his name, he stops immediately.

you let out a groan of protest, lifting your head from the pillow to further voice your grievances, only to be met with a petulant-sounding;

"you said to be quiet."

frustrated at your own words being used against you, you let your head fall back, mulling over how to reply.

utahime's music is still playing. they mightn't hear you, you're not being that loud --

but choso still hasn't picked up where he left off.

you know what he's capable of doing with that tongue, those fingers, so you throw in the towel fairly quickly.

"fine."

"use the back of your hand if you need to," he whispers before pausing, leaning over to pick up something, "or use this."

he tosses your own underwear towards you.

you grab it and throw it aside, rolling your eyes playfully.

"it hasn't come to that yet."

"still," he retorts, lowering himself down again, "it could come in handy."

"we'll - we'll see," you choke out, feeling his tongue part you again, wondering if you will actually end up need ingthat makeshift gag,

he licks and suckles, providing just the right amount of pressure as you start to grind against the wet heat of his mouth.

he knows what you need from him.

"one or two?"

you don't need to ask him to clarify. "two."

"already?"

your hand flies up to cover your mouth, pleasured mewls dying in your throat.

once it passes, you let your hands drop back to your side.

well, you could ...

you could just ...

so you do; you fist your hands in his hair, soft and silky under your touch, and answer.

"already."

you feel one of his hands release from your thighs as he starts to stroke himself, low reverberations of his groans enhancing the sensation of his tongue against you.

then the other hand drifts down your waist, hips, until two fingers prod at your entrance, your wetness coating his fingertips before he can even get inside you.

his hand moves slowly while his mouth nips and suckles, your legs spreading even further to allow him room. 

inch by inch he slips inside, meeting no resistance since you're ore than wet enough for two -- maybe even three --

he curls his fingers and you cry out his name.

he doesn't stop this time, though, too enraptured by the sight of his fingers disappearing through your swollen folds to deny himself anything.

the music next door is drowning out any sound you're making, you know it is. you don't want to stop for a moment.

you can't stop.

he pumps his fingers in and out as your hips roll against him, chasing the friction that you need as much as air right now.

you really think you might die without out.

you feel yourself pulse around him; he feels it as well, the way you contract when he hits that spot against your walls, and suctions his lips around your clit in the way he knows will have you coming for him more than once.

with his lips angled like this, you can feel the piercing as it shifts against you; the cold metal should probably feel jarring but it only adds to the sensitivity, a unique sensation that you now can only associate with him.

it's funny -- you haven't been seeing each other for long, only hooking up when you have the chance to go undetected -- but he already knows your tells, the signs that you're close, so close --

you barely hear it, the sound muffled and quiet by intention, but the feeling of him groaning your name as he licks into you is too much, too much, too intense a feeling for you to bear ....

your orgasm hits you like a crashing wave, washing over every nerve in your body as you spasm around his fingers, your limbs turning to jelly as you lose your grip on his hair, hands fumbling with the bedsheets to try to establish yourself.

it is neverending, an all-consuming sensation that lasts until he pulls his fingers out unceremoniously, aftershocks clenching around nothing.

your teary eyes open as you see what prompted his sudden movement

choso's brows are pinched together desperately, almost panicked, as he fists his cock, hips rocking rhythmically.

"you're gonna make me come ... fuck, fuck --"

with a cut-off moan he grips the base of his cock, coming over your stomach, coming ropes that reach your breasts, his head thrown back as his jaw clenches shut.

the sight is enough to prolong your own orgasm, faint ripples running through you even as choso's pleasure starts to ebb away.

"oh fuck," he groans once his cock stills, his chest rising and falling, his sweat-slick skin glistening as he collects himself. "fuck ... I'm sorry."

"don't be sorry," you grin up at him, having come to a sudden realisation. "from the sound of it ... utahime and her date just closed to front door, so ... looks like we have the place to ourselves."

"we do?" he half-pants, half-laughs. "how ... how long has it been since --"

"too long," you cut him off. "so we need to make up for lost time."

it's his turn to grin again, eyes scanning the mess he's made of your chest with a sense of pride.

"happily."

[mizusnose]

Valentine’s Day with the Smith’s

An early valentine’s day post about my beloved Mrs. and Mrs. Smith HCs. Enjoy 💓

———

Under the guise of a romantic valentine’s day date, you and Mizu are guided onto the rooftop of a fancy italian restaurant to have a stake out of the table nearby. The sky is an open endless reflection of the city beneath, a sparkling bowl of ink, one that matches the spill of hair on the soft pale of Mizu’s shoulders.

Her shoulders are out, the dip of her back framed by the sparkly red dress that reaches the floor, a slit up the side of her thigh, revealing unending skin that stretches and moves with each step up towards the rooftop.

We should probably order appetizers, Mizu muses, once you’re both seated. She eyes you, closing the menu and gesturing for a waiter to come over.

You try not to focus on the line of muscle that works up to her shoulders when she turns to order. There’s a line of her ribs that are exposed too when she hands the menus over. Her eyes a frozen-over lake as she gazes at you and says: and my wife’ll have the sangria, thanks.

“Wife” You think, and accidentally cough on nothing at all. Mizu chuckles and the night commences.

Your targets are in the corner of the roof, a young couple that would look otherwise completely normal had it not been for the mission you’ve both been assigned.

“So, we just wait here? No drop-off, no hand-off?” You tinker with the wine glass, the stem of it firmly gripped by your fingertips: the same place Mizu has her own. Her palms encompass more of it though. Your gut kicks at the sight.

“Guess so. Not much info. Just wait” Mizu has ordered something lighter than your own sangria. It sparkles and fizzles in the moonlight and accompanying golden lights lining the rooftop. The color is golden, translucent, and it touches Mizu’s red lips softly and you wonder what her mouth will taste like after she’s finished her wine. A sweet ripened mandarin? A bitter splutter of raspberry? You wonder and wonder and—

“Your appetizers.” The waiter sets down something much too small for you both. A sparkle of oysters laid out on ice and decorated with some…leaves? Your life before now was far from glamorous, so you poke at it with your fork, confused.

“Like this.” Mizu interrupts, she’s chuckling and covering her mouth. The line of her eyes dark with the eyeliner she’s applied tonight. Her eyes bright and eager, “You’ve gotta like, well, slurp it.”

And Mizu, ever the perfect teacher, puts the clamshell to her lips, the same place her wine glass was and slurps.

You think your soul leaves your body.

“You can try. Though, if you’ve never had it before, might not enjoy it too much.”

You nod, dazed and amazed at Mizu across from you. You both have strayed away from your lives before now. Content with having lazy morning sex in the shower and fucking Mizu on the kitchen countertop when she walks around naked and pretty and tall.

You don’t know the first thing about her, and yet, she’s predictably smug when you cough around the oyster. She teases and brushes her heeled foot against yours under the table.

You smile, and she returns it, shy beneath the curtain of hair she’s let down for tonight. Usually it’s tied up into a tight bun, a single curl brushing her sharp cheekbones. You adore her in either way, but you think it’s rare to see her like this: laid down, spilling with beauty, and sparkling in the night.

The night passes quickly like this. Jokes and banter and easy flirting that turns into Mizu revealing bits of herself you probably wouldn’t have known otherwise.

“Yeah, and I can speak Japanese but kanji is too difficult now. Can’t quite..understand it.”

She’s shy when she smiles around her glass of wine. She eyes you across the table, a wide plane of tablecloth separating you both. You nod, and lean in closer,

“Do you know any bad words?” You grin, pleased when Mizu rolls her eyes and pushes you away, “Nothing awful! Just curious.”

“I don’t curse too often.”

“Sure you do.” You speak lower, get closer and keep eye contact, “Your dirty mouth in the mornings, in the shower, in the kitchen this morning when I ate you—“

“I don’t—!” Mizu is red. The wine had already allowed a blush to crawl of her neck and to smother her ears until now. Yet, her whole face blooms under your gaze, your words, your leg against her, “I don’t curse in Japanese. Not without sounding like a gangster, i mean.”

You hum and let Mizu change the topic, her face calming to the shade of ripened peaches, soft and fuzzy and warm.

The couple leaves and you both pay the bill before hurrying out behind them. Your hasty following turns into a stroll around central park, the night a hazy turn of lights and shadows. A tree blocks the sight of your couple and they don’t mind too much.

“Maybe this is just a set-up.” You wonder, aloud.

“What, like an ambush?” Mizu pulls her blood red dress aside and shows the gun strapped to her upper thigh.

Your mouth dries and your jaw goes numb, dropping open slowly.

“No. I meant—like, maybe this is supposed to be a date? We’re wives after all. Maybe they want us to, you know, act more like it?”

Mizu shrugs, clearly confused. You grab her hand, intertwine your hands together and push through the grass lining the path they’re on.

“Wait—where are we—!”

And then you’re both under the dark of a large tree. The leaves shudder at your arrival and dance in the wind. You put your finger to your mouth and motion to hush. Mizu listens, giggling softly.

“You know, you’re very pretty tonight.”

“Just tonight?” Mizu quirks a dark eyebrow up, challenging and teasing.

“Every night. Every morning. All the time.”

Mizu looks at you, through the darkness and the shadows. A streak of moonlight falls on her face and you say before you can truly think it through:

“You’re hot too. The last mission, your face was covered in blood and—“

“You’re such a perv.” Mizu jokes, but the way her smile lingers on her face makes you continue.

“And your legs tonight, your thighs.” Your palms fall on her hip, drag down to her thigh, the inner part of it, “I want to..do so many things to you.”

“Then do them.”

You kiss under the dark. The clouds cover the moonlight and you’re both drifting together in the sea of darkness. The trains have stopped running by the time you’re done making out. The ride home is tense and by the time you’re both home, you take Mizu apart: piece by piece, scream and yells alongside her incessant begging.

You think it’s funny when Mizu wakes you up with a small simple note:

Mission Completed!

———

Anyways, I love them a lot and i even sprinkled in some sub mizu so hope you enjoyed :)

[melanieph321]

Ruben Dias x Reader - Topless

I love beach Ruben 😙 Hopefully we'll get some more content when the season ends and players go on vacation!

Summary - Ruben doesn't like when reader tans topless

Enjoy!

It was your first vacation in Portugal with Ruben. You could have easily stayed at the beach house and hang by the pool all day, but you would much rather go down to the beach an get your tan on over there.

"What are you doing?"

Ruben had a morning workout and let you go ahead without him. He eventually joined you, but was suprise to find you laying topless on a taning bed.

"Ruben?" You lifted your sunglasses from your eyes. "How was your workout baby?"

"Good. What are you doing?" He said, eyebrows furrowed.

"What?" You looked around yourself to see if you had dropped somthing. "What am I doing Ruben?"

You flinched as a towel was thrown at you, his towel.

"Ruben." You gasped.

He plotted down in the taning bed next to yours, looking around himself as if to see if anybody was watching you.

"Are you serious right now?" You removed the towel from chest, tossing it aside.

"I'm not joking Y/N. Cover yourself up now."

"Don't be silly Ruben, everybody is doing it."

You looked down the line of people laying on the beach and saw alot of girls taning with their top off.

"Yeah but that doesn't mean you should be doing it."

Ruben was in full beats mode, sideying guys that were passing by your taning bed, grunting at the once that dared to throw you a second glance.

"I can't do this." You sighed and stood.

"And where are you going?" He said, his attitude moody.

"To get a drink."

You tied your bikini top around your back and headed for the bar tiki bar down the beach. There you ordered somthing that tasted like rainbow but looked like a lemonade. You chose to have your drink at the bar rather than going back to the taning beds. Perhaps Ruben just needed to cool down a bit.

"Linda."

A voice said behind you.

You turned around.

It was a shirtless man with a drink in his hand. He was quite big, but not a big as your boyfriend of course.

"Can I help you?"

"Linda." The man repeated, a slick grin on his face. "Linda means beautiful. You are a very beautiful woman." The man's Portuguese accent flourished through his white teeth.

"Oh, thank you." You blushed. However you were ready to grab your drink and go.

"Please, let me by you another sangria."

"Thanks but I'm just gonna head back to my boyfriend who's probably waiting for me." You were already walking away from the bar, but for some reason the man trailed his steps behind you.

"Come on, a girl like you can't settle for one boyfriend,  surley you need two?"

"Hehe, I think I'm good actually."

You were practically running away from the man now, spillning out your drink as you struggle to jogg in the sand.

"Where is this boyfriend of yours. I'm sure he won't mind sharing." The man laughed. He had followed you all the way back to the taning beds.

"He's...he's..."

You looked around, however, Ruben was nowhere to be found. A slight panic came over you.

"Now you see, I don't like girls who take me for a fool."

"Excuse me?" You turned back to the man., but stepped back seeing his eyes wander up and down your body, checking you out.

"You don't have a boyfriend do you?" He smiled, but not a friendly smile.

"I...I do." You stuttured. "He...he was just here. He must have just gone for a swim or something."

"A swim?"

"Yes, a swim." You hissed, hoping that would chase the man away.

What if Ruben had been so angry with you for taning topless that he had left you behind and gone back to the beach house? What then, you thought.  The beach was packed with people though. If the man tried somthing you could just scream. Then again there was the language barrier. The little Portuguese that Ruben had taught you ahead of this trip was not going to help you out in this situation. Besides, who would people believe, the Portuguese man or you, the silly tourist probably drunk out of her mind.

"Y/N?"

You gasped hearing his voice. "Ruben?"

His shadow appeared behind you and soon he stood in front of you like a wall separating you from the man that had followed you from the bar.

Words were exchanged in Portuguese, first the strange man, followed by Ruben who raised his voice at him.

"Ruben." You grabbed his arm, preventing him from stepping forwards. He really looked to want to have a go at the strange man. Nevertheless, it ended with the man walking away, even giving you an apologizing wave with his hand.

Ruben had you sit down on the taning beds, crotch down in the sand before you.

"You okay?"

"I'm fine, thank you."

He storked your cheek "Some people, eh?"

"Yeah, I guess you tried to warn me."

Ruben paused, his eyes gazing at you intensely. "That's not what I meant." He said.

"No?"

He shook his head. "No. You should always feel free as a woman to...you know..."

"Tan without a bikini top?" You smiled.

Ruben blushed. "Yes. It's normal here in Portugal, many people do it. My grandmother even does it, but that's besides the point...."

"Ruben?" He was rambling nervously. It was so sweet, you thought. You tilted his chin and kissed his lips. "Get to the point."

He chuckled. "I don't want to share you with the world, you belong to me."

"Is that so?" You said.

"Yes." Ruben stood, pulling you up with him. Before you could find balance in your feet he ducked down abd grabbed your waist, throwing you over his shoulder.

"Ruben." You gasped. Your legs kicked in front of him. "Ruben let me down."

"Not til' we get to the water." He laughed, his arms wrapping around your thighs, squeezing them tightly.

[froggibus]

Karaoke night with their s/o for Junkerqueen, Lucio, Mercy, and Venture? (I know you're getting soooo much Venture, I'm sorry, I adore them so much, I'm crushing so hard on them right now qq but I tried to include more people!!)

Karaoke Night - Junkerqueen, Lucio, Mercy & Venture

Genre: fluff w some crack

Summary: how your s/o would be when you take them to a karaoke bar

CW: drinking/alcohol, karaoke bar, mild public embarrassment, public singing, dorky ass ow characters

thank you for the req!! honestly this one was really fun to write & I appreciate you adding some variety to it ^^ i wrote this last night but work was so hectic i forgot to post it >~< hope you like it & that you’re having a wonderful day 💓

Junkerqueen:

she cannot sing for shit I’m sorry

probably didn’t know what a karaoke bar was until you took her

but she’s utterly fascinated by the idea of it and the fact people like it even if the people singing aren’t good

you probably have to surprise her by putting her in the queue without her knowing

she’s awkward when she first goes up but gets SUPER into it

chooses some fun sleaze rock song like Rock You Like A Hurricane and does dorky air guitar and stuff while she sings

has to announce to everyone that the song is dedicated to you too

drops to her knees at the very end and plays out the whole guitar solo with almost perfect air-fret/air-string placement

everyone loses their shit

she makes you go up with her after to sing free bird

the whole 9 minutes too oops

Lucio:

he is SO fun to karaoke with but also SO obnoxious

it was definitely his idea to go to the karaoke bar

probably buys you a couple drinks just to lower your inhibitions (so you’ll sing with him!)

while he’s comfortable in any spotlight, he accepts that you’re not (that’s what the drinks are for)

he signs you up without you ever knowing and when they call your name, drags you on stage with him

picks a super fun popular song & sings it with you

maybe a duet like Don’t Go Breaking My Heart or You’re The One That I Want

he busts out some silly dance moves while you’re up there just to help you feel more comfortable

he’ll start grabbing your hands and spinning you while singing

the crowd goes WILD for the two of you & people end up recording you

it goes viral online once people realizes it’s lucio oops

he has so much fun that he signs you up for 3 more songs >~>

Mercy:

she probably wanted to go to the bar just to watch

but after a glass or two of sangria she’s getting up on stage and grabbing the mic

sings a love song or a pseudo-love song, like Total Eclipse of The Heart or Dancing On My Own

she’s a totally good singer too

smiles at you the whole time and keeps pointing at you until everyone in the bar is watching you

she ends up reaching both hands to you and dragging you on stage after to sing a duet

if she drinks enough she WILL bust out some dorky dance moves (she LOVES the corny fake-rope pulling one)

again the crowd LOVES you guys even if you’re not the best singer

probably ends up going up 2-3 more times before the bar closes

Venture:

they LOVE karaoke bars however they’re too awkward on their own to get up and sing

get them a couple drinks first and they’ll practically be running up on the stage foaming at the mouth

they will do ANYTHING but they love cheesy 80s music and classic karaoke songs

not the best singer but they’re not bad at all

they do the little awkward side shuffle dance before they start to get into it

and then they bust out some CRAZY moves

I’m talking the worm, I’m talking break dancing—some WILD things

they’ll come back and beg you to do a song with them (but they won’t tell you what)

it ends up being something ridiculous like Tequila or something

and the two of you just stand there perfectly still until you say ‘tequila’

they’ll grab your hands after and pull you off stage giggling

masterlist | overwatch masterlist

if you like content like this, interactions go a long way! i appreciate every like, comment & reblog ^^

[thatsdemko]

up for it? - p.gavi

part two of the fake it mini series | previous part | next part

warnings: mentions of alcohol + mentions of vomiting

a/n: really liking this redo of the series than the previous one 😊

24 HOURS PRIOR TO THE RED CARPET

the mixture of alcohol and sweaty bodies was enough to make a sober person vomit, but you relished it in the moment. you enjoyed the sweaty male bodies pounding against yours, or the free drinks that flowed with a wink of an eye and a flash of a smile, but you had reached a limit. one that made your head spin, your feet sluggish, and your words slur. you were drunk.

the next Uber cost more than you could somehow come up with in your bank account, and the nearest friend lived miles from the city, but there’s just one guy who might still be awake.

“do you have any idea what time it is?” he answers with a grumble, his voice groggy and low it was hard to hear him in the mixture of drunk giggles and girls gagging outside the club.

“what time is it?” your words slur together, they come out like molasses, slow and almost twisted that jolts him out of bed. you’d never been this drunk, never enough to call him. of all this time he’d known you—and that was a decade to be exact—you’d never gotten this wasted. not even at the gavi family Christmas party where sangria flowed with ease.

“dios mio, where are you?”

“I don’t know?”

he rolled his eyes, go figures. all it ever took was one person to say jump and you’d say how high. you’d end up in France if it wasn’t for the lack of euros and the fear of flying.

“I’m on my way, you just stay put.”

—

his car rolls slowly down the street and comes to a stop right in front of you. it takes two tries for you to get into his car, and the second time resulted in you nearly throwing yourself onto him. what a great story this will make for the papers, you think to yourself. you could practically read the headlines “drunk girl throws herself onto Barcelona star.”

“where are we going?”

“where do you think?” he grits through his teeth. it’s currently three in the morning, and tomorrow was an early practice which meant by the time he’d get home with you, he’d be getting out of bed in a few hours. but he knew if he didn’t do this, he’d never hear the end of it from his mother, someone who valued you and your friendship with her son.

“I don’t feel well.” the words come out a jumbled mess. you’re stirring in the passenger seat, hand rested against your forehead, you’re leaned over the seat trying to calm down. it wasn’t a good idea, to lean forward that is, because soon enough the mixture of tequila and vodka came right back up and onto his leather seat.

the car comes to an immediate stop, he clicks the engine off. you don’t need to look over to see he’s angry, this was an expensive car after all. and if it wasn’t for him passing his drivers test, you’d probably thrown up on the streets in front of strangers. but this was a mess not even Pablo could fix himself.

“I’m so sorry—“

“take this.”

“what?” you turn your head over to the drivers seat, his shirt was crumbled up in his hands. he sat there staring at you with nothing but just a pair of joggers, “take this, at least clean yourself up with it.”

“I—“ you pause. there’s no way in hell you could take that shirt. it was worth more money than the Ubers cost and more money than the rent you paid, you couldn’t think to use his, outrageously, priced white shirt as something to clean up your vomit with, “I can’t take that, gavi.”

“fine,” he huffs, and without your permission he reaches across the center console and begins to wipe what’s all over your dress off, “now we’ve got two more minutes until we get home, can you make it?”

“I think so.”

—

“how do I repay you for this?” you gesture to his cozy apartment, the fresh sheets on his king size bed, and his clothes you were currently drowning in for pajamas.

a smirk lifts to his lips, you can see his mind is beginning to spin, “I actually have an idea.”

tags: @ncentic @footballerficsposts @chriss-club @xjval @morenofilm @leclercloml

want to be tagged in this series? let me know here!

[turbulentscrawl]

Hunter Sizes

Just some more general musings from work the other night. Special thanks to @athanasius-symposium-of-writings for listening to my random chatter about this kinda stuff haha

-I think most of the Hunters aren’t as large as the game makes them seem in comparison to the survivors. That’s something done, firstly, to give the Hunter-player a better field of vision, and secondly, to emphasize the survivor’s fear of whoever is chasing them. That said, I do think most of the Hunters have been made bigger than they were as mortals. Like, they're still huge! But the survivors aren't usually eye-level with their crotches haha.

-Fool’s Gold is the largest of the Hunters, and the closest to his in-game height. Norton’s body has been built up and filled out with a ton of rocks and coal, and the as a result he stands somewhere between 9-10ft tall. Ann is close to his height as well because she’s been so stretched out, but her posture is terrible so she tends to stand at eye-level of the next group.

-Jack, Antonio, Wu, Luchino, Pierre, Percy, and Alva are the tallest Hunters, aside from Fool’s Gold and Ann. They all stand between 7-8ft tall.

-Sangria (and she's all leg lol), the Will Brothers together, and Orpheus are the next group, and generally stand between 6.5-7ft tall. Grace is also at eye-level at this group, due to her floating which she can’t turn off. If she were able to rest on the ground, she’d be in the same group as Michiko. Dream Witch is also in this group, but since no one can see her it barely counts.

-Hastur’s height is variable. When he’s resting, he’s right in the middle of Hunter’s height charts. But his body is like an octopus, so he can squash and stretch himself easily to change his size.

-Michiko, Mary, Burke, Kiegan, Ithaqua, and Joseph are on the shorter side, compared to other Hunters, but they still stand around 6ft. Ithaqua uses his stilts to seem taller; with those on, he’s got another foot on people and stands at eye-level with Sangria. Leo, Joker, and Bane are also close with this group, but they’re also much bulkier overall than the others.

-Galatea, Violetta, Bonbon, and Robbie are the shortest Hunters. They’re still not as “small” as their age or conditions would suggest, but probably average between 5’-5.5’ when standing.

[bunny-is-cute]

Alcoholic Names Husk would totally try to name his babies after because he misses his drinks

Jack (and/or) Daniel(s)

Brandy

Gina(nd) Tonic

Mai Tai

Margarita

Marti(ni)

(Mint) Julep

Paloma

Pina Colada

Ramos (Fizz)

Sangria

(Tequila) Sunrise

Tom (and/or) Collins

Vesper

**Note. Probably (and more than likely) will NOT use these names. This is just a joke post

[storiesofsvu]

Love Comes Quietly Ch 11

Alex Blake x reader warnings: language, mentions of smut, chaos. It's kind of a filler chapter, plenty of chaos (some of which worked better in my head/ spitballing with @prentiss-theorem but i included it anyways)

You stirred at the sound of a very loud magpie on the other side of the window, letting out a small groan as you rolled over, stretching out your body. You felt Alex’s arm that was draped over your waist tighten, pulling you closer to her and her lips brushed against your forehead.

“Mmm…” you nuzzled into the embrace, aching to stay in your little bubble for even a moment longer before the real world pricked it back open, “what time is it?”

Alex groaned softly, shifting so she could see the clock over your shoulder, “just passed ten thirty.” She settled back into the pillows, “what time did Prentiss want us in again?”

“Noon.” You grumbled back, “and I do not want to be subjected to the torture if we’re late, and I definitely need a shower.”

Very reluctantly you untangled your limbs from hers, slipping from under the sheets only pausing to scoop up your discarded swimsuit from the floor before you were opening the door.

“Hey, weren’t you doing laundry last night?”

“Fuck!” You groaned, “it didn’t make it out of the washer. I’ll throw it on a speed wash and hopefully it’s done in time.”

*

Thankfully there was enough time, and honestly it was good the two of you had woken up when you did. There was still a pretty big mess in the kitchen and a jug of sangria sitting out in the backyard. With the off chance that you’d be sent out on another case you didn’t want to leave any of that lying around for god knows how long. So you danced around each other while you made sure everything was in place, your go bags were adequately packed and managed to get some coffee and breakfast into your systems before it was time to go.

You were halfway to the BAU when your phone buzzed in the cupholder and Alex’s eyes darted from the road to it, letting out a small groan from the drivers seat.

“Please don’t let that be a case.”

You scooped it up, swiping open the message, “no. Em just wants me to grab her a coffee on the way in.”

“She can’t be bothered to go downstairs herself?” Alex chuckled and you huffed a laugh.

“Says she’s overrun with paperwork.”

“I seriously pray to whatever higher power is out there that paperwork is all today is.”

“Considering we haven’t even started ours from the D.C case and still need to wrap up the Phoenix closure files, if we do get something new she’ll probably split the team up depending on severity.”

“Okay, your brain is clearly caffeinated enough already. Give me that.” She swiped the coffee out of your hand with a grin and you scoffed.

“Rude Blake.”

“Just get yourself another one when you pick up Emily’s.”

“Ugh.” You rolled your eyes, but there was a ghost of a smile on your face as you sent of a couple more texts to Em. Your phone dropped back into the cupholder and you let out a small sigh, settling back into the seat, “are we gonna have to put the whole kiss thing into the report?”

Alex let out a hearty laugh, glancing over to you and you caught the pink tinge of her cheeks, “I’m not sure. Sounds like a Prentiss question.”

“True.” You laughed, managing to swipe the coffee back out of the holder when she put it down to make a left turn and she shot you a playful glare.

*

When you got to Quantico you split off, you beelining for the Starbucks on the main level while Alex headed for the elevator to get a head start on the day. Thankfully, the weather was warm and Emily had requested an iced latte so you were able to stop at your desk briefly, there were a couple of things that just needed a read over and a signature before they were done.

“Hey.” You knocked on her open office door in greeting, pausing to make sure she wasn’t on the phone.

“Hey.” She glanced up, tossing you a quick smile before she returned to whatever she was working on, the pile in her inbox way larger than the out, she really was drowning in paperwork.

“Hate to add to that monster of a pile.” You winced, dropping two folders down onto it, “but that’s the wrap up from Phoenix.”

“As long as it comes with coffee I won’t hate you.” She grumbled, scrawling her signature across the bottom of a page before flipping it shut and adding it to the outbox. Letting out a sigh of relief when you put the coffee down in the free space on her desk.

“Can’t have that now.”

“You’re a true hero.” She took a sip then her head tilted, eyes flitting between the bull pen and you, “Blake got here like twenty minutes ago, did you guys drive separately? Is there something up?”

“Didn’t realize we were playing twenty questions.” You laughed, tugging off your blazer to toss it over one of her spare chairs, “no we drove together, I just stopped for coffee, ran into Garcia and then quickly finished those.” You nodded toward the folders you’d dropped off, “sorry for withholding the caffeine.” You caught her eyeing you, her lips curving up in a teasing grin and your eyes narrowed, “what?”

“You put the bikini on, didn’t you?”

“What? Em...”

“I’m just assuming that’s how you got that hickey; I mean, Blake didn’t exactly go all Dracula in the bar.”

“What hickey?” You asked back in a very feeble attempt to steer her away from the topic.

“Oh, you’re telling me that’s dryer lint stuck to your shirt on the right side of your neck?”

Your hand raised as if you were trying to remove whatever definitely wasn’t a bruise on your skin and you couldn’t help the near wince when your fingers pressed into the mark. You were suddenly transported back to the previous night, Alex’s cock buried deep inside you as she’d made a very comfortable home in the crook of your neck and you knew there was no distracting Emily. You let out a huff, dropping back into the chair in defeat.

“Fine. It’s a hickey.”

“I fucking knew it!” Emily leant forward, suddenly very excited and invested, “so, just a steamy make out session in the hot tub? Please tell me that’s what it was, please tell me I made this happen because you two have been insufferable recently.”

“I.. well…”

“Wait…did you already—”

“Em!” You shot a glance to her open office door and she quickly shut up while you stood to cross the room and close it for some amount of privacy. “It turns out… your opinions on the red bikini may be shared by a certain linguist.”

“Oh my god! Yes!!”

The response was loud enough that it could only be muffled by the walls and Alex couldn’t help but chuckle to herself at her desk, feeling the heat creep up her cheeks as the memories of the night before came flooding back to her.

“Wait, did you guys fuck in the hot tub? Because now I’m never going to be able to use it again.” Emily nearly whined.

“Oh come on! No. That’s disgusting.” You huffed, dropping back into the chair, “there was just some making out in the hot tub. And…maybe a little more on one of the loungers… and then we went inside.”

“And?” She raised a brow, gleam prevalent in her eye.

“Well you were right on the nose about the mommy thing.”

“Blake you kinky motherfucker.” She chuckled, gaze drifting out to the bullpen briefly before she looked back at you. “Well, technically I think you’re the mother fucker here.”

“I take the time out of my day to bring you coffee and this is what I get, really?” You replied dryly, glaring in her direction.

“Okay, okay. I’m just happy you two finally hooked up. I take it, it was good?”

“Obviously.” You practically laughed, shaking your head at her before you settled back in your chair, your eyes glancing out toward Alex’s desk and you let out a sigh, tugging your lower lip into your teeth.

“Hey…” Emily’s voice was softer this time, watching the way you were watching the other woman.

“Hmm?” You didn’t glance back to her yet.

“Why’d you just shut down? I don’t need to know all the kinky details or anything, I know that might feel weird considering I know both of you.”

You let out a huff of a sigh, turning back to her with a shrug, “we…. didn’t exactly talk about things after. Like… maybe it was some one time thing fueled by booze and an undercover kiss…”

“And you don’t want it to be.” Emily replied and it wasn’t a question.

“No, of course not. I was fucking blind to what was going on until recently but like… I still haven’t found a house, what if it’s hella fucking awkward at home now? What if she was just pent up and wanted some sex post divorce? What if sex is all she wants?”

“Okay, okay.” She held up a hand, “I’m gonna stop you right there before you start to spiral. I wouldn’t worry about any of that Murphy.”

“You sure?” You raised a brow in her direction and she almost laughed.

“Absolutely. Alex likes you, she just needed to… un scramble some wires to figure out if it was a platonic thing or not and considering you’ve now fucked, I think platonic is off the table.”

“Wait.. have you talked to her about this?”

“A few times on and off, briefly, yeah.”

“So your whole little badgering chaotic thing was actually you legitimately trying to match make?”

“I have been waiting for the two of you to kiss since I met you and saw the way you acted together in that coffee shop in New York. Maybe the two of you took some time to realize it but you have some weirdly insane special connection. She likes you; she cares about you, she adores having you around, and now you’ve got orgasms added to the benefit list. Trust me. Because I’m the one who can see the way one of you is looking at the other when they’re not paying attention, and you’ve both had heart eyes for months.”

“When did your inner chaotic gremlin turn into Gandhi?” You half glared at her, but knew she was right. If things were going to be weird, they would’ve been awkward that morning, or on the thirty minute drive in, while there hadn’t been any conversation about the sex and you’d both been too distracted and busy to actually share a kiss, nothing felt different in that way.

“Hey!” She scoffed, “don’t hate me. I did this! You should be thanking me.”

“I’m standing up.” You warned with a point, “which means we’re back in work mode. Yes Chief Prentiss, I’m on it, paperwork is to be done. If you start talking about sex again HR is gonna have to hear about it.”

“Please, you would never.” She laughed and you rolled your eyes.

“But seriously, can you please keep this quiet? We really don’t need the entire team finding out, especially before we’ve even figured things out.”

“My lips are sealed.” She replied with a soft smile, “oh! Hold on.” She slid her chair over, digging through her go bag for a second before pulling out a couple of make up compacts, “cover up that hickey because someone else will call you out.”

Taking the items from her you flipped one of them around in your hands, noting that it was a colour correcting one, not just regular foundation, “you carry these with you?”

“Yeah, after this many years in the field you never know when you’re gonna take a punch and need to make a media appearance within twenty four hours.”

“Eck.” You winced, “thanks.”

*

Alex had disappeared into her home office shortly after the two of you got home, a soft instrumental playlist echoing down the hall through the open doorway. You knew she was lecturing at Georgetown in the coming week and there was no doubt she had some prep work to do for that. You took the solo time to head out on a run considering you hadn’t gotten the chance over the past couple of days and then jumped into the shower.

It was shortly after that that your stomach began to growl and you meandered out to the kitchen. A grocery trip was definitely in order, there really wasn’t much in the fridge, you stood staring into the pantry, eyes searching through the food to figure out what you could do for dinner. You registered the sound of Alex’s footsteps, followed by the soft thud of her phone being dropped onto the island and you figured she was grabbing a drink. What you didn’t expect was for her arm to wrap around your waist from behind, her body nestled into yours as her lips tenderly brushed against the bruise on your neck.

“Snack or meal?” She asked softly and you let out a little sigh, picking up a box of pasta.

“I know it’s not much but I’m thinking kraft dinner. You want some?” You half turned in her arm and she chuckled softly, her hand taking the box from you to put it back on the shelf.

“I was actually thinking that maybe tonight I could take you out?”

“Really?” You turned completely, your attention fully on Alex as her free hand came up to stroke at your cheek while she nodded.

“I know I should’ve bought you dinner before fucking you, but the thought still counts, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah.” You smiled softly at her, “yeah it does.”

Her fingers trailed down your jaw, soothing over the bruise in the crook of your neck and she frowned slightly, “that doesn’t hurt, does it?”

“Only when Emily’s prodding at it.” You grumbled, rolling your eyes.

“I figured it wouldn’t take her long to put things together.” She laughed softly.

“Yeah. So what’re you thinking for dinner?”

“Not sure, nothing too fancy, you’re already cozy I wouldn’t want to make you change again.”

“What about Mezcalero? You were talking about wanting to try it out last week.”

“I think…” She started, her hand shifting back up to cup your cheek again, “that sounds perfect.”

She leant in, closing the small gap between you to meet your lips with hers and you let out a happy sigh, relaxing into the kiss as your arms circled around her shoulders. Neither of you could help the way your lips were curving up into smiles as they moved against each other, warmth blooming in your chest and flowing through your entire body. It was just as Alex slid her tongue across your lower lip that her phone buzzed against the island and she let out a groan, not wanting to pull away from you. As she reluctantly pulled away from you, a hand lingering on your waist, you closed the pantry, moving towards your own phone, waiting for it to go off.

“Oh fucking hell…” She felt her stomach plunge and when you glanced up you noticed how her eyes had widened, her face somehow both going pale and blushing at the same time.

“What?” You asked, your brow furrowing as Alex’s phone went off again, “ugh, is Emily sending you wildly inappropriate things?! I told her to stay out of this, I’m sorry, I’ll tell her to fuck off.” You picked up your phone with the intention of doing that when Alex finally found her voice again.

“Not Emily.”

“Please don’t tell me she blabbed already and it’s someone else on the team.”

“Nope.” Alex groaned, swiftly typing out a message on her phone, grimacing when it buzzed again in her hands and she dropped it to the island, running a hand over her face, pinching at the bridge of her nose, “I am so sorry.”

“You’ve lost me.”

With a sigh she slid her phone across the island and you picked it up to read the conversation,

‘Looks like you and bookstore girl really are getting along. Have to say, I saw that coming.’

‘Excuse me?’

A photo attachment, camera clearly aimed at the backyard with both the pool and hot tub in its frame, the part that mortified Alex, however, was that clear as day were the two of you all over each other in the hot tub.

‘Are you stalking my security cameras!?’

‘Relax. You said you weren’t going to be home until Saturday, I noticed a notification and thought some kids must’ve hopped the fence again.’

‘Definitely not the case.’

‘Hey, good for you. I’m glad you’re getting back out there. At least the hot tub’s finally getting some good use’

‘James, I swear to god.’

‘Don’t worry. Once I realized it was you I very quickly turned it off. While I’m not above teasing I’m not about to spy on your personal life.’

You glanced up to Alex, your eyes wide as she surveyed you, “James? As in your ex-husband, James?”

“That would be the one.” She let out a huff, accepting the phone back from you, “when we first moved in here it became pretty common knowledge that we had a pool and were both out of town a lot. We were both working when we got a call from local pd that a party had been shutdown at our house and one of the kids admitted it wasn’t the first time. So we installed the extra camera, James still has access since he keeps an eye on things when I’m out of town, he’s always on his phone, it’s a quicker call, easier for him to step away from work than me.”

“At least we waited until we were inside for the clothes to come off.” You suggested with a laugh, one that infected Alex and she chuckled, shaking her head at you.

“I guess that’s the saving grace. And believe me, he means it when he said he turned it off.”

“Well, one less semi awkward conversation to have next time you’re in Boston?” You offered and this time she couldn’t help but laugh, the ridiculousness of the entire situation settling down over her and she tugged you to her, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as laughter filled the kitchen.

“I am mortified. I didn’t even know how to bring up dating to James…”

“And now you don’t have to.” You laughed, prodding at her ribs, “the better question is… can you turn just that camera off?” You glanced up at her with a gleam in your eye and she raised a brow.

“Sounds like you have an idea.”

“Oh I have plenty of ideas. But they all involve a lens cap.”

“It can definitely be turned off.” She smiled, leaning down to kiss you.

“Good.” You grinned, “now take me to dinner.”

“You’re not going to share your ideas with the class?”

“Dinner first.” You kissed her, “dessert when we get home.”

“Now that, I like the sound of.”

________________

@svulife-rl rl @clarawatson @hbkpop @momlifebehard @alexusonfire @itisdoctortoyousir @temilyrights @alexxavicry @evilregal2002 @alcabots @ladysc @dextur @disneyfan624 @augustvandyne @supercriminalbean @lex13cm @prentiss-theorem @happenstnces @whiteberryx @heidss @geekyandgay98 @onmykneesformarvel @inlovewithemilyprentiss @desperate-gay @amypoehlfey @overtrred28 @emobabeyy @1974-sp @theclassicgaycousin @kalixxa @leftoverenvy @bigolgay @daddy-heather-dunbar @regalmilfs4me @scorpsik @riveramorylunar @h-doodles @maybe-a-humanbean

[simplydannie]

If you’ve been with me and read my stuff, first of all, thank you!!

You have no idea how much that means to me and just encourages me!

Secondly, you may have questions about certain characters I list in my fics that are not recognizable or may seem new to you. That’s okay! Because, they kind of are! I have a small list of OCs I have created to fit into my stories. I’m not much of a drawer and still require a butt load of practice, but i am a writer and will try to draw the mental image of these characters as much as i can. So here we go!!

PS: Drawing takes me a long time, so if I can get to drawing these characters then I’ll try! I also wouldn’t mind artist out there bringing these characters to life in their own light!

The Mistress

Ah yes. This is a name you have recognize and seen a couple of times in some of my stories. The Mistress is a name I have given to Velvet and Veneer’s manager. Why Mistress? It’s a code name she chose to hide her try identity. She’s been running this muck of a business for years. And what exactly is that business? Hiring and grooming young Rageons into her little fame fraud. There is something about using Trolls essence that makes someone’s mind easier to mend and control, she doesn’t if it kills the Troll…or the person using it. All that matters to her is good business and money. She finally find her “super” stars when she discovered the twins, but now that they are out of her grasp, out of her control, you’d think she’d move on…no. That just makes them more desirable to her and her scheme. Unfortunately, the contract the twins signed made them her property. She deems this contract “unbreakable” somehow through some sort…and is only broken in case of death of the twins.

Her age is a mystery.

She is known to be very beautiful with kind eyes…which makes her very deceiving. Her hair is known to be a dark red tint of sangria and her skin light redwood red. She always wears elegant style business suit. Mistress has beautiful piercing green eyes, her hair always styled into a messy bun that allows her curls to fall beautifully around her face.

Ruff and Gruff

These OCs were inspired by some drawings I saw of @skydiverdrawings . Ruff and Gruff are sibling Bergens that reside in Rageous. Bergens in Rageous? It’s much more common in Under Rageous which is where the Bergens are from. Mistress needed body guards and henchmen to do her bidding. So she hired the biggest and toughest Bergens she laid her eyes on during one of her visits to the under-city. Ruff and Gruff are paid handsomely, including the occasional Troll. These Bergens are still set with the mindset that eating Trolls brings happiness…much like the rest of the Bergens that reside in Under Rageous. So every now and then, Mistress will make sure they are kept happy.

They are downright mean and will not hesitate to kill on demand…even if it’s a teenaged Rageon.

I haven’t thought much about their looks other than they are bigger and stronger than a normal Bergen (Under Rageous Bergens tend to be bigger and stronger than those in Bergentown). Their names were inspired by HTTYD twins Ruffnut and Tuffnut.

Cressida

If you know her, you probably wished you wouldn’t. Cressida is the twin sister of Velvet and Veneers mother, Vivian…their aunt. She was always jealous her sister though her sister always treated her lovely. Vivian always longed for a loving relationship with her sister, but Cressida never cared for it. Things changed and got worse when Vivian met the twins father. Cressida was in love with him, but she was cruel and greedy…and their father saw this. He had always tried to be kind to her, but she would always try to manipulate him in some way. Eventually, he ended up falling in love with Vivian. Vivian was hesitant in his affections and marrying for fear of breaking her sisters heart. It took a couple of years before the twins father eventually won Vivian over. This left a bitter tasted in Cressida’s mouth allowing more hate to grow in her heart. Despite that, Vivian still trusted her, even with her own children.

Cressida was highly abusive towards the twins, mainly Veneer since he reminded her so much of their father. As Veneer got older, Cressida began to take notice of his physical demeanor…eventually leading her to take advantage of him physically. Eventually, thanks to Velvet, the twins break free and leave their aunts. It is unknown what happened to Cressida during the twins fame arc and return to Under Rageous.

Tye

Now for this little guy I do have art for. Not the best, but I’m still practicing.

Tye is a Troll born and raised in the under-city of Under Rageous. He’s a handful of Trolls that dwell there. This colony of Trolls are decendents or escapees that have run away from the clutches of Under Rageons. Tye is 17 years old but is quite mature for his age. As he got older, Tye took it upon himself to help raise the younger Trolls being born in the under-city. He’s also dedicated in going out to rescue trapped Trolls throughout Under Rageous with the older Trolls.

It’s not quite sure what type of Troll he is since he’s lost his color. He really hasn’t given himself time for hobbies since he’s main desire is to help ALL captured Trolls, so unfortunately, this means he also does t have any friends…

Until he meets a green, swooped haired Rageon, whom at first he doesn’t trust and finds annoying.

Shank

Shank is an Under Rageon crime boss. He was the one who mentioned the twins to Mistress in the first place. He and Mistress have a CLOSE working relationship. They’ll deny being together romantically, but their physical attraction to each other says otherwise.

Not much is known about him or how he and Mistress met, but rumor has it they had known each other since they were young and have been in love since then. He is just as evil and ruthless, spreading fear to those he meets. He’s the number one crime boss in the under-city, so don’t cross him, because he has everywhere. To his surprise, the ones to out smart him so far have been the twins… which he finds really annoying… and boils his blood.

Shank is a pale Rageon (almost like the twins except he has a little more tint on his skin). He has dark, blue denim hair that is stringed into dreadlocks. His teeth are filed sharped and scars covering his entire body, his eyes are always hidden behind sunglasses but are a brilliant maya blue.

[mindstriker]

mildly smashed on red wine right now so grammar notwithstanding: thinking about how fucked up an ending with unascended astarion/pursuing godhood gale would actually be. no trigger warnings just uh: spoilers and also: long

because just imagine- astarion is convinced in the end to not take cazadors power because it'll deprive him of his ability to enjoy life, replacing his soul and all positive emotions with an eternal hunger for more and more power and control. he understands why ascension wouldn't genuinely help him be happy or free- and so rejects it. but he doesn't understand why godhood is a poor choice for gale until it's already too late.

he trusts him, and after all those years of silence from the gods and from the good people in the world, the promise of a newly born god- bearing a crown specifically to serve his people, he promises- sounds amazing. it's just another example of sweet, devoted gale trying to do something overbearingly good for the world- and maybe for him, too. part of him still hasn't quite gotten rid of the idea that all they need to be happy is power, if they could just get enough of it without consequence. another part, beyond belief, actually sees gale in such a positive light- maybe in the same "you're the only person who was kind to me, you're unlike anyone else in your goodness" type of way that he sees a player character at one point- and hesitates to believe that he could be just as fallible as himself- just as tempted by the wrong decisions.

and maybe some part of him doesn't realize what ascension would have done to him until the day the netherbrain is killed, and gale stands out by the docks, eyes fixed on the chionthar. barely even celebrating. barely paying any mind to him at all. no more remnants of that ridiculous, verbose, catty hermit of a wizard that spent the past few months bickering with him over games of lanceboard and shared books. he's not really gale at all anymore, astarion would realize- because that was the whole point. gale wasn't capable of enough, in his eyes- and now he's resolved to be someone else entirely. something new. as absent as the rest of the gods already, and he hasn't even succeeded yet- but he's already seeing the world from a million miles away, as he leaves- without sparing astarion so much as a second thought. so much for visiting waterdeep. leaving astarion to wonder two things: why he'd ever thought it was a good idea to encourage him in the first place, and what sort of "something else" he himself would have become if he'd pursued power in the same way gale had.

I know a lot of people would probably run with the angle of Astarion being pissed that he was talked out of ascending while gale proceeded, but I like this better, personally- Astarion being forced in this scenario to reckon firsthand with all the reasons why ascension wouldn't have been good for him through Gale- realizing slowly that his idea that they'd be the exact same people, just with more raw ability and more personal freedom, couldn't be more wrong. that maybe he contributed firsthand to- but didn't cause, gale was already a bit megalomaniacal to begin with- the complete erasure of someone he loved in the name of making them "more than they were." the exact thing gale, tav, and the rest of the others were afraid would happen to him not so long ago. yay!

sorry if this was incomprehensible and long, sangria said fuck ya life bing bong to my brain cells