#time for my second favorite time of the week

[pathologicalreid]

the anniversary effect | s.r.

in which the anniversary of reader's assault nears and Spencer would move heaven and earth to make sure she's okay

margovember

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst (hurt/comfort) content warnings: past sa, rohypnol, chemist!reader, technically a continuation of don't get dark, but you don't have to read it first, not proofread because im a freak, panic attack, hydroxyzine, ptsd, read with care word count: 1.96k a/n: @lilacsandlavenderhaze you asked me to tag you when i publish this <3 so here it is <3 also hey guys do we like our summaries in the second or third person?

Spencer looked down at the keypad that would unlock the door to your lab. A custodian had let him in the chemistry building after a slight misuse of his bureau credentials, but he hadn’t realized that he wouldn’t be able to get into the laboratory. Every time he’d been here before, it had been either during working hours or you’d known to expect him. This time, you had no idea he was here.

He'd been looking everywhere for you, and he wasn’t sure why the lab wasn’t the first place he checked. Garcia had checked your phone’s location for him.

He eyed the keypad as if it were an enemy, looking for patterns in which keys were more worn than others, but your lab wasn’t the only one behind these doors. There was no way for him to be sure.

Ten keys mean ten thousand possible permutations, and that didn’t include the possibility that he might need to hit the pound sign or asterisk before or after the code. Fishing his phone out of his pocket, he called your cell first—it went straight to voicemail. When he called your lab phone, it rang six times before he was asked to leave a message. He put his phone back in his pocket and tried a number—your birth year—and tried the same number with the pound sign and asterisk.

Spencer ran a frantic hand through his hair. He never should’ve gone on the case. He never should’ve been in Arizona while he knew you were stuck in your own mind. He tried another combination—the year you got your PhD—to no avail.

The two of you had talked about it last week. You started pulling away from him, and he finally commented on your behavior when his hand on your shoulder frightened you so badly that you dropped your favorite mug on the kitchen floor. Thankfully you hadn’t been burnt by any of the hot coffee, but upon discovering the mug was ruined, you were inconsolable. It was as if the broken mug had been your final straw, and Spencer had left for Flagstaff that day.

He tried a new combination—your birth month and date—and the keypad still flashed red. He released a huff of frustration and wondered if it would be fair form to shoot out the lock. Spencer shook his head, dismissing the extreme option from his list of choices before he resorted to wiggling the door handle, hoping the mechanism would fail and he could open the door.

A noise behind him caught his attention. Briefly, he made eye contact with the custodian, a young guy with spiked blonde hair, “Did you forget your ID?” He asked, pulling a wired earbud from his ear and jutting his chin in the direction of the door.

The lie formed in Spencer’s mind, already building a story to run by the custodian in order to get through the doors, “I left it in my office, would you mind?” Spencer gestured to the keypad, hoping he could get the custodian to swipe him through.

“Yeah, sure,” the blonde guy said, stalking over and pulling on his badge reel, swiping his university ID, and opening the door when it finally flashed green. “Have a good night, man,” the employee said, replacing his earbud before returning to his cart.

It was almost too easy to get him to open the door, which Spencer didn’t particularly appreciate. In this instance, it turned out to be beneficial, but he didn’t like that anyone could be let into the labs if they simply looked like they might belong. Instead of griping about it, he thanked him and slipped through the door, shoving his hands in his pockets and making his way to your private lab.

You’d taken a new job recently, jumping to a different university in the district where they offered you a private lab for your research, and you seemed happy here. You had all of the freedom you needed to do things like stay at work even as the clock approached midnight. Maybe it was too much freedom, at least for right now.

He opened the door that had your name written across it, slowly stepping into the dark lab as he looked around for you. Spencer didn’t see you, and there weren’t many places for you to be out of view, in the dark, his other senses accommodated the loss of his sight, and his ears pricked when he heard a small shuffle.

Taking another step forward, he peeked around a lab table and found you.

You backed yourself into a corner, leaving nothing but a pile of limbs flush with the cabinet as you sat in silence, either ignoring or unaware of Spencer’s presence. He approached you with the same delicacy that one would approach a doe, he didn’t want to scare you. Hundreds of possibilities flurried through his mind as he crouched in front of you and took notice of the small bottle in your hand.

When you and Spencer had just started dating, before you’d ever been intimate, you’d told him about a time you went out with a group of college friends that ended with one of them attacking you. He drugged you and assaulted you, leaving you with a physical scar on your side and an emotional one on your heart.

Spencer didn’t make a habit of hating people he never met, but he made an exception in this case. He allowed himself to despise this man on your behalf, justifying his emotions every time he remembered how badly the memories made you cry.

It’d been three years, almost to the date since you’d been attacked, and all it took was a good look at the bottle in your hand and he knew exactly what was going on. He read the label over again. Flunitrazepam.

Rohypnol.

“Hey, baby,” Spencer whispered, morphing his tone into something that would suit the atmosphere. He watched your body language, the way your breathing hitched at the sound of your voice.

The despondent look in your eyes snapped into fear before you settled, your shoulders calming down slightly at the recognition that there wasn’t an enemy in front of you. It was Spencer.

Swallowing thickly, he reached out a hand and took the bottle. You tightened your grip on it, not wanting him to take it from you, “It’s okay. You’re okay,” he assured you, “I’m just gonna set this on the counter for you.”

Your grip slackened and he followed through on his promise, keeping a wary eye on you as you looked around the lab, staring at the floor as if it was entirely foreign to you, “I don’t remember sitting,” you muttered aimlessly, looking up at Spencer through your safety goggles. Spencer noticed the way your breathing quickened, “I didn’t— What time is it?”

He shook his head, trying to grab your hands before you pulled them into your lap, he settled for one hand on your knee, something to ground you, “It’s late,” he told you.

“I… I had a meeting with a professor in pharmacology. We were… he wanted to work with me on a project,” you placed your head in your hands, shaking your head like you had lost time. “He’d read my research on the dye they use in Rohypnol to make light-colored drinks turn blue, and wondered if we could find something to color dark liquids like cola.”

It was terrible, atrocious timing on the part of the pharmacist, but he didn’t know any better. Instead of telling you that, Spencer sat down on the floor in front of you, “Baby, do you remember what we talked about last week? Did you call your therapist?”

Nodding absently into your palms, you lifted your head and haphazardly pulled off your goggles, “I saw her today, she talked to me about the same thing you did.”

You and Spencer had an in-depth discussion about the anniversary effect. “It’s okay that you were triggered by a conversation that normally wouldn’t have had such a big impact on your day,” he told you gently, squeezing your knee comfortingly.

“Stop,” you responded, dropping your hand and looking back at him, you set your goggles on the floor and took a deep, trembling breath. “Spence, I can’t—” your voice broke off in a mess of gasps, and Spencer instinctively moved closer to you.

Gingerly, Spencer lifted your chin in hopes that it would open your airway and help your breathing, “I know, baby. I’ve got you,” he reassured you, taking your hands in his when you started anxiously scratching at your forearm. “I’m right here,” he murmured, “it’s me, I’m not going anywhere.”

He pressed a soft kiss to your temple, rubbing the pads of his thumbs over your hands as he comforted you, whispering sweet nothings to you as he waited patiently for your breathing to even out before speaking again.

“Do you need anything?” Spencer was silently offering you the same three options he always did: space, water, and medication. You had a prescription for hydroxyzine that you were supposed to take as needed, and when you very softly answered ‘pill’, Spencer let go of your hands to go get it from your backpack.

He pulled the bottle from the front pouch and grabbed your water bottle from where it sat in front of your computer, he dosed out one pill and handed it to you, watching you wash it down, closing your eyes, and leaning your head back. “How was work?” You asked.

Crouching in front of you, Spencer smoothed your hair back, “It was fine, we can talk about it later if you want. Right now, I’m focused on you,” he answered, avoiding your redirection.

You nodded in understanding, allowing Spencer to maneuver you when he helped you to your feet.

Spencer cupped your face in both of his hands, “Let’s get you home, huh? Have you eaten?” His brown eyes studied you now that they’d adjusted more to the dark, your under-eye circles looked more pronounced in the moonlight, and he wondered if you’d been sleeping. “I think there’s a bowl of soup with your name on it at home,” he whispered, taking your keys and locking the Rohypnol up in a cabinet.

A soft smile tugged at your lips, and Spencer couldn’t help but feel like that was a victory. “I’m okay,” you told him, some strength returning to your voice.

Spencer nodded, sweeping a lock of hair behind your ear, “Let’s get some food in you,” he reemphasizes. He kept your keys in his hand, you took the metro to work, so Spencer could just drive the both of you home. He looked back at the door, watching you as you slowly shut down the lab and gathered your things, “Hey, what’s your code to get into the labs?”

You frowned at him and shrugged, “1-0-2-8,” you told him, powering off your computer monitor and letting him help you pull your jacket on.

His movements faltered, and without a second thought, he carefully wrapped his arms around you. You hummed in response, reciprocating the hug after taking a deep breath. “I love you,” he whispered, tenderly rubbing your back.

“I love you too,” you responded, finally relaxing into him. “I’m sorry for worrying you,” you apologized, loosening your embrace so you could look at him.

He shook his head once, “it’s okay,” he whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Just, next time—well, hopefully there isn’t a next time—answer your phone,” he said, watching you. He’d continue to keep an eye on you, but you were strong. Spencer knew, just like the others, that this storm would eventually pass.

[xetlynn]

Hello!!!, I just wanted to request a Claggor x pregnant reader (in the good timeline), if that’s possible, thank you so much <3!

I had fun with this one

Arcane Imagines- Claggor

The Favorite

[arcane] [main page]

Prompt: claggor and reader are expecting a baby in a few months. Their family come over with gifts.

“Sweetheart, don’t you dare.” My husband stopped me as I was about to pick up a part of our baby’s bed. I sigh, lifting myself back up while holding the bottom of my stomach. “Claggor I can pick up a piece of wood.” I walk over to him. He sat on the floor trying to figure out the directions to put the crib together. It was mine from when I was a baby that my mom surprisingly kept. 

“Not if I’m here. What if you trip and fall forwards? I would never forgive myself.” He looks up at me with a stern expression. I roll my eyes, nudging him with my knee. “I’m only 31 weeks, I don’t even have the pregnancy waddle yet. So I am very capable of picking things up without tripping.” I fold my arms, a little annoyed with this conversation that we’ve had before. 

Anytime I even lift a finger I get scolded. I can’t cook, I can’t lift anything over 5 pounds, I can’t pick things up off the ground anymore. “You’re in denial first off because you so have a waddle. And second I am here so you don’t need to be capable of picking something up. I got it.” He takes my hand, kissing it softly. I roll my eyes, taking in a deep breath. “Okay, whatever. When our princess comes out being a little diva that’s going to be on you.” I point a finger in his face, he pretends like he’s going to bite me.

“And I’ll be okay with a little diva.” He goes back to building the crib. 

I go out to our living room to sit down on the couch. I let out a bored huff. What am I supposed to do? Just sit here and read? Who does he think I am? I’m tougher than him. I used to be a professional fighter. Now I’m some sort of wife with a great husband who wants to take care of me. 

My hands land on my stomach and I think about our baby who is in my tummy. What will she look like when she’s born? I hope she has my eyebrows. Claggor’s nose. 

A bunch of knocks sound at the door and I frown knowing I have to stand up from just sitting down. I grab the back of the couch and try to push myself up. “Sit down, sit down. I got it.” Claggor rushes past me, getting the door. I blink a few times, now annoyed since I got halfway up!

Vander comes into the house holding two baskets. “I bring gifts for my grandchild!” He laughs excitedly, I grin up at him. “Thank you! You didn’t have to do that!” I appreciate Vander, he’s been such a good help with setting things up for his granddaughter. “Ah, yes I did. She’s going to be such a spoiled girl.” He clasps his hands together after Claggor took the baskets from him, setting them next to me on the couch. 

“Well, we love you.” I smile, taking the first basket and opening it to see little blankets, a thing of diapers and wipes. “This is so helpful.” I start to tear up, Claggor sits next to me pulling me into his arms. “Sorry, I’m just so grateful for this. You don’t understand.” A tear falls and my body wracks in a sob. 

“She’s been crying a lot more lately.” Claggor tells his dad and I sniffle. Vander snickers, “it’s alright. No worries, I know how it goes.” He waves my behavior off. 

“Powder, Ekko and Mylo are going to be stopping by. They told me to let you know.” He exclaims, his arms over his chest as he speaks to us. “Oh man, they’re so sweet!” I cry out, hiding my face in my husband's chest. I feel him shake as he laughs at me. “Sweetheart, it’s okay.” He rubs my back up and down. “Sorry,” I sat up, wiping my tears. “Pregnancy brain.” I grab the other basket, opening it to reveal some baby clothes. “Perfect, we’ve been needing to grab some more pajamas.” I take them out of the basket, holding them up one by one to check them out. “So cute.” I squeal, leaning my head on Claggor’s shoulder. 

Not even moments later there’s a pounding at the door and Vander gets it. Mylo sneaks under his arm holding a large golden necklace. “Got this for my niece so she will know who the best Uncle ever is.” He throws it over to Claggor who picks it up in between his fingers to inspect it. “Yeah, she’s never going to wear this.” He deadpans to his brother with an irritated expression. 

“What!? I spent good money on that. She’s going to love it.” He throws his hands in the air. “Mylo, this is fake. Her mother is allergic to fake metal so I’m sure she will be too.” Claggor throws it back to the shorter guy. “Ohhh! He told you.” Powder comes in with a small box, Ekko behind her with painting supplies. “Here ya go!” She places the box down in my lap. “I made them.” She proudly states, hands behind her back. I picked up a light pink rattle. I shook it and it was soft sounding. Perfect for a baby. I look at the others and there were some teething toys along with a few building blocks. “Powder, thank you! This is amazing.” I grin up at her. “Awe, it’s nothing much. I’m excited to meet your beautiful bundle of joy!” 

Ekko wiggles the paint supplies and I point to the bedroom. “Thank you again, Ekko!” I call after him. “No problem! I’m so excited to do this.” He pokes his head out to tell me and I chuckle. “Also, could you clean this mess up? Or is the crib supposed to look like this?” He looks to Claggor who groans. “I forgot all about it. I’ll be back, babe.” He plants a kiss on my lips before heading into our daughter’s bedroom. 

Powder plops down in his spot, Vander reprimands his other son about trying to give a baby a gold chain that ended up being fake. I giggle, turning to my sister-in-law.

“You’re so talented Pow.” I lift up her artwork and her face flushes. “Thank you, I didn’t know what to get you guys for her. Ekko said something about giving you little toys. Then I thought about how I could just make the toys myself.” She explains her process and I smile. “Well this is a great gift.”

“I’m going to be her favorite uncle, trust!” Mylo tells his dad who scoffs. “You don’t even know what to get a kid.” Vander places his hands on his hips. “You’re right but I know how to make the kid look cool. She’ll be beating up bitches left and right.” He announces and I snort. 

“That’s why you’re not babysitting. Ever.” Claggor comes back into the room. He turns to look at me but then sees Powder in his spot and he frowns. “What? Why not?” Mylo asks. 

“You want my kid to be violent. She’s not going to be.” Claggor pinches the bridge of his nose, not believing this was actually a question. “Yeah, that’s why I’m going to be the favorite. Praise peace and love.” Ekko peaks out behind my husband and I snicker. “You are not going to be the favorite! You guys will eat your words when the first thing she says is Uncle Mylo.” He points at all of us. I hold my stomach from how hard I’m laughing. Powder giggling with me, her hand grabbing onto my wrist trying to contain herself as well. 

“Her first word will be dada. Not her uncle who is an idiot.” Claggor argues, I raise my eyebrow. Dada? It’s definitely going to be mama but I don’t have the energy to join this fight. "I'm not an idiot." Mylo furrows his eyebrows.

“It could be Uncle Ekko. I top all you suckers.” Ekko says and now the three are all in a very heated argument about my daughter who’s not even out of the womb yet. 

Powder turns to me, putting a hand in front of my ear. “I hope they realize the favorite is actually going to be me… Gonna be so embarrassed when they find out.” She tells me and I grin. “You’re so right.” I nod my head. 

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

Gonna try to grind more requests I do have over 25 at the moment so be patient with me!!!! I enjoy this so much. I love seeing all the love!!!! I am getting sick though so if I start to slow down on my posts that's why. I can already feel my body aching:(

N e wayzzz, love you guys!!!!!

[covenofagatha]

Hii can you please write athlete-student fem reader x Professor Agatha, where she is her favorite student and they have a close connection despite Agatha's cold demeanor. So one day y/n comes limping to Agatha's class bcuz she got injured during the practice and her coach kept pushing her, without letting to rest, so the injury got worse and now y/n can barely step on her leg. Agatha takes notice of that and asks y/n to stay after the lecture, where Agatha discovers the truth about abusive coach. So Agatha helps Y/N to her car and takes her home, where Agatha takes care of her and they finally kiss or maybe even smut if you are good with it please. Kinda like hurt/comfort with possesive Agatha

Thank you for all your amazing writing💜

As a former swimmer with a coach that was fired for emotional/verbal abuse I fucking loved this request so thank you and I hope you like!

Swimming into her arms

You hurt your leg during practice and your coach makes it worse, so Professor Agatha has to take care of you

Word count: 3400

Warnings: hurt/comfort, slight possessiveness, oral sex, soft

“Coach, can I talk with you for a second before we get in?” You ask, stepping gingerly over to him. He barely even glances at you, just waves his hand to tell you to get on with it. “I just hurt my knee during weights and the trainer said that I shouldn’t kick that much until I can go see a doctor.” 

Now he looks at you, displeasure written all over his face. Your swim coach is not known for being nice and you inwardly wince to brace yourself. “What did you do?” 

“We were doing band jumps from the pullup bars and I landed weirdly and there was a pop from my knee. It hurts to walk and I’m really not sure I should swim.” 

He scoffs and straightens up against the fence where he was leaning. You cross your arms over your chest, wishing you were standing in more than just your swimsuit. You should’ve worn clothes to come talk to him, but deep down you knew how this was going to go. 

“We have a meet this weekend and you’re our best backstroker somehow, despite your awful underwater kicks. You’re swimming.” 

The dig about your underwaters doesn’t even phase you now, having heard it enough times already. But the thought of bending your knee like that makes you brave enough to protest. “Can I just pull for today? I’ll try to get to the doctor this afternoon.” 

You feel your stomach sink as he rolls his eyes. “I don’t need damaged goods on this team so if you’re not going to get in the pool and you’re going to be weak, then just get off the deck and come back next week. Don’t expect to be put in any more meets though.” 

You have to bite the inside of your cheeks to keep your jaw from dropping. You nod and turn around to hide the tears stinging in your eyes and put your cap on. You’re on a scholarship at the university for swimming, so if you quit or he lets you go, you’ll most likely have to drop out.

“That’s what I thought,” you hear your coach huff quietly behind you. “Let’s go. You’re five minutes late getting in.”

The moment you jump into the pool and push off the wall for warm up, you know you’ve made a mistake. Your leg is screaming. Every kick is pure agony and you try your absolute best to not move it more than you have to. But each flip turn makes you want to cry. You barely make it through the warm up and your heart drops when you see the main set that your coach wrote on the board. 

You wouldn’t be surprised if he changed it up and made it harder just to mess with you.

Your lanemate asks if you want to go first and all you can do is shake your head. If you speak, you’re afraid you’re going to fall apart. You refuse to take your goggles off because your eyes are red and teary. 

One round in, your coach stops you on the wall. “Are you even trying?” He demands. 

“My knee,” is all you can get out before your voice wavers. 

He squats down so he’s closer to you. “I’m 55 years old. My knees hurt every day and you don’t see me whining about it. Now either do the set right, or you’re off the relay.” 

This time, when you push off the wall, you kick with both legs. By the end of the 25, you’re already sobbing into the water, choking on gasps when you turn your head to breathe. You’ve never felt pain like this before in your life and you are convinced that something is really wrong. 

At one point, you think you almost black out. 

You fall behind in the set because you physically can’t kick fast enough to make the interval so your coach makes you stay behind late to finish it, despite you telling him that you have to get to class. 

When he finally lets you out of the pool, there’s twenty minutes until your class starts and you still have to shower, get dressed, and somehow walk across campus. 

Some of your professors would be chill if you walked in late. Hell, most of them were happy if 75% of the class actually showed up. 

But not Professor Agatha Harkness. She was feared by everyone on campus, even those who weren’t in her class, for her stony cold demeanor. There were rumors that she made students cry just by looking at them. 

Although, she wasn’t like that with you. While she was still tough, there was a softness in her eyes when she looked at you, a certain fondness in her smile. You weren’t sure what it was about you that made her like that, but you and Agatha had grown quite close over the past semester. You would go bother her during her office hours and she would patiently answer all your questions and help you with her assignments. You knew you could talk to her about anything, and you often did. Friend drama, other classes, swimming, you name it. The way she made you feel heard and seen, plus with how hot she was, had you falling for her. 

The only thing you hadn’t really opened up on was how mean your coach could be. 

But just because of your relationship with her didn’t mean she would allow you to be late to her class. 

For now though, your task was to get out of the pool without screaming. Your coach would throw a fit if you didn’t “get out like an athlete” by putting your knee in the gutter instead of your foot, but you weren’t sure you could do either. You maneuver yourself up using the handles on the starting blocks so you’re sitting and then push yourself up. You try to put weight on your hurt leg and you gasp loudly. 

That’s not going to happen. 

Your coach walks over to you and you think that he might offer some sort of help or an apology or anything, but all he says is, “See you tomorrow.” 

Your head falls back in frustration and you experiment with some different movements to see which is the best for your knee. You can slide it a little on the wet ground for now to get to the locker room, but when you go outside with shoes on, you’re going to have to figure out something new. 

You shower in record time while still getting all your tears out and throw on sweatpants and a t-shirt, putting moisturizer on your face while your hair is twisted up in your towel. The warm water did a little to help your leg so you’re able to put the tiniest bit of weight on it now. However, it doesn’t hide the evidence that you were clearly crying. 

Still, your class starts in five minutes. The building her lecture is in is four minutes away with a good leg. 

Hobbling while whimpering every step takes eight. 

You try to open the door as quietly as possible, and you succeed, but your bag swings and clangs onto the metal trash can that is right in the doorway. Because of course it is. 

Silence falls through the room as the sound echoes, and Agatha looks up from her place at the front of the room. You offer a shaky smile and limp down the aisle to your spot in the second row. Going down the slanted floor is a new type of pain that has you grabbing onto chairs. 

“Stay after class so I can hear your excuse about why you’re late,” Agatha says coldly once you’ve sat in your usual seat, sighing when the burn in your knee dies down to a dull ache. Your heart squeezes but you do see some concern in her eyes. You realize that her tough exterior just now was an act. You nod, not able to look at her for fear that she’ll see right through you, and you dig in your backpack for paper and a pen for notes. 

The hour lecture goes so slowly, your knee now starting to throb from sitting. You’re not really sure what you’re supposed to do to get it to stop hurting. 

Finally, Agatha releases everyone but you stay seated. While you’re in pain sitting, you know it’s much worse if you stand up. She doesn’t seem to mind, just comes to stand on the other side of her podium and lean against it. 

“What’s wrong?” She asks, voice softer than you’ve ever heard it before and you just start hysterically crying. She looks more taken-aback than you’ve ever seen her and walks over to crouch next to you and rub a hand comfortingly up and down your arm. “Sweetheart?” 

Your breath catches at the pet name and you hiccup. You swipe furiously at your eyes, embarrassed to show this much emotion in front of the older woman. When you open your mouth to start talking though, you can’t stop. “I hurt my leg in weights and I tried to tell my coach that the trainer said I shouldn’t swim and that it hurts but he made me get in anyways because we have a meet coming up and told me I wasn’t doing good enough and I had to stay late to finish the set and my knee hurts so fucking much I can barely walk.” You don’t even have it in you to apologize for the swearing and Agatha doesn’t care either. 

She cups your tear-stained cheek, thumbing at it, and you meet her eyes with your watery ones. You’re a little surprised to see pure anger in them.

“That is not okay,” she says seriously. “He should be fired for doing that. He deliberately put you in a situation where you’re only going to be more injured and now look at you. This is unbelievable. I’m going to talk to the athletic director, someone needs to know about this.”

You shake your head quickly. “No, Professor, you really don’t have to, it’s not–” 

“It is a big deal,” she cuts you off firmly. “There need to be consequences. He fucking hurt you and he’s going to pay!” Your heart skips a beat at how protective she’s being and she seems to realize what she said because she immediately changes gears. “Do you need help?” 

It’s the first time anyone has asked you that all day. Even the trainer or your weight’s coach didn’t offer. It almost makes you start crying again. 

“Yes, please,” you say and she holds out your hands, pulling you up out of the chair. You put your hurt leg on the floor and buckle into Agatha’s arms. “M’ so sorry, oh my god,” you stammer as she’s practically holding you now. 

She uses her strength to get you standing straight again, and without saying anything, slings your backpack over her shoulder and puts her other arm under yours so she can act as a crutch for you. 

“I’m sorry about your coach,” she finally says as she’s working on steering you out of the building. 

You wince going down the steps and shrug. “He’s not a bad coach. Like his sets are good and stuff and I’ve gotten faster for him. Just not a great…person. Where are we going?” You’ve finally realized that she’s not helping you back to the dorms. 

“My car,” she says matter-of-factly. Your heart skips a beat and you crane your head to look up at her. She has a variety of emotions struggling on her face and you’ve never felt so taken care of. 

“Why did you park so far away?” You groan and she chuckles. It feels like you’ve been limping for a mile. Luckily, there’s not too many other people outside right now to see Agatha helping you like this, but you do find it oddly touching that she would risk her heartless reputation for you. 

At last, you get to the lot where the professors park and she basically drops you into the passenger seat, sliding into the driver’s side once she puts your bag in the back. 

“Thank you for helping me,” you say quietly once she’s reversing out of her spot. She pauses for a second to look at you, a new expression on her face that you’ve never seen before. 

“Of course, sweetheart.” 

Once again, she goes in an unfamiliar direction. Maybe she’s taking you to a doctor? 

Nope. 

You’re still confused, even when Agatha turns into a quaint suburban neighborhood, but you think you figure it out when she stops in front of a house. 

You turn to gape at your professor. “Is this yours?” She gives you a look that says obviously and then gets out of the car quickly so she can come get you out. She doesn’t grab your bag from the back but you don’t need it. She helps you hobble inside and brings you over to the couch so you can lay down on it. You swing the bad leg up and then the good one and she hands you a pillow to put under the hurting knee. 

The elevation helps a little and while Agatha walks out of the living room, your eyes close, head resting on the back of the couch. It feels like you have been drained of all your energy from weights, practice, and then your knee. 

You think you might doze off just a bit because you startle when you hear Agatha entering. She’s carrying a bag of ice in one hand and a plate with a sandwich and raspberries in the other. You scooch into an upright position and graciously accept the food, instantly taking a huge bite. You moan at the taste and then notice that Agatha is standing next to you, bag of ice in hand, looking at your sweatpant-clad legs. 

Her eyes dart to yours and then back down. “Do you think you can take these off?” She asks, tapping your leg and your cheeks turn almost as red as hers. 

“Um, oh, sure,” you answer, mouth full of food. You set the plate down on the coffee table and raise your hips so you can get your pants off. You refuse to look at her as you basically undress in front of her. 

And then you begin to struggle. You can bend one leg just fine, but you don’t even want to risk moving your right knee in the slightest. The problem is, you’re nowhere near flexible enough to take your pants off while keeping one leg straight. 

Thankfully, Agatha completely understands without you having to ask, saving you from that embarrassment. She reaches across your body and gently slides the sweatpants off your bad leg. And then your entire bottom half is naked except for your underwear. 

You know why you’re blushing, but why is Agatha? 

She clears her throat and arranges the bag of ice on your knee, but it won’t stay because your leg is slanted up on the pillow. 

“Um, can you…” she trails off like she’s trying to figure out how to word it. You also understand what she needs, so you move your left leg so it hangs off the couch and she can sit in-between your legs and hold the ice to your knee. 

“Are you okay?” You ask after the two of you have been sitting in silence for a little bit. It’s comfortable, but you can still see the outline of grimace on Agatha’s face. 

She sighs heavily and runs a hand through her hair. “It’s just hard,” she admits. “Seeing you in pain like this.” 

“Why?” You dare to ask, the question barely louder than a whisper. She looks at you and then back to the ice. 

“I care about you a lot,” she says, like it pains her. It feels like all the air has left your lungs. 

“I care about you, too,” you reply, hoping more than anything that she means it the same way as you. 

She shakes her head as if to clear her thoughts. “Is there anything else I can do to help?” 

“A kiss?” It’s meant to be a joke, like when your mom would kiss a paper cut or a scrap just to make it feel better. And then you inwardly kick yourself because you know you did not just ask stone-cold Agatha Harkness to kiss your knee. 

But she smirks and then you realize that you never specified which part of your body you wanted her to kiss. 

She leans in, hand grabbing onto the arm of the sofa next to you to hold herself up and she brushes her lips against yours. It’s barely anything, easily written off, but when she pulls back, her eyes are dilated. 

“Did that make your knee feel better?” She asks playfully. 

You pretend to think about it for a second and then you tilt your head. “You know what? It did. Better do it again so it helps even more.” 

This time, her tongue parts your lips and licks into your mouth. Her other hand slides under your shirt to feel your stomach and heat starts to course through you. You moan into her mouth and wrap your arms around her so pull her even closer. She shifts and accidentally bumps your knee and you hiss in pain. 

“Fuck, sorry!” She exclaims, jerking back like she was burned. 

“No, you’re okay,” you groan. “I just don’t know if this is the best way to do this.” You pout because you want to keep kissing her, you need to feel her. 

A sly smile spreads onto her face. “I know something else that might help.” You raise your eyebrows in question and inhale sharply as she carefully moves down your body so her head is right by your underwear. She toys with the waistband, checking to make sure it’s okay. You nod more eagerly than you ever have in your life. “If it hurts your knee, let me know.” 

“Okay,” you breathe and you shiver when she pulls your wet underwear to the side and the cold air hits your pussy. 

And then she lazily licks through your folds, swirling her tongue on your clit and your back arches off the couch. 

“Fuck,” you moan, one hand tangling in her hair and the other grabbing the side of the couch. She continues softly lapping at you, fingers digging into your hips to keep them still so you don’t accidentally hurt yourself by moving. Agatha takes her time tasting you, making a noise every and then that makes your head fall back. 

Your pleasure slowly builds from her hot, careful mouth on you, but Agatha doesn’t seem to mind. She alternates dipping her tongue into your pussy and then sucking your clit and back again. She gets more enthusiastic about it once she feels confident that she’s not hurting you and begins to be a little rougher. 

“I’m getting close, Agatha,” you whimper and it’s the first time you’ve ever called her by her first name. She must realize it too because she groans into your pussy and sucks hard on your clit, sending you over the edge. Sounds fall out of your mouth as you cum, hips trying but failing to buck against her tight grip to ride it out. 

“Is your knee okay?” is the first thing she asks when she stops licking at you. You laugh at the timing of the question. 

“Yes, it feels totally fine.” 

Agatha leans down to peck your lips. “Okay, good. Still, I’m going to make an appointment at my doctor this afternoon. I’ll take you.” 

Even though she just ate you out, this is the sexiest you’ve ever seen her. So caring, so protective. Your heart yearns for more of this woman. 

“You don’t have to do all that,” you protest though, not wanting to ask for more than she’s already given you. She waves her hand to shush you. 

“Nonsense. I’m going to take care of you because apparently no one else can. And I want to.”

You smile fondly at her and tug at hair to bring her in for a deeper kiss this time. “I want you to as well.” 

And she does.

[marzipanandminutiae]

would you have any reading suggestions to learn more about the earrings are evil era??? I've never heard of that aspect of fashion history and I am curious

Oh man, it was wild

you saw the first stirrings of it in the 1890s, when you started to get (mostly white and middle-to-upper-class) proto-feminists arguing that ear piercing was barbaric- keep an eye on the racist undertones there; they will come up again-and forcing women to suffer for fashion. I cannot emphasize enough that, until that point, ear piercing had been pretty much normal for this race/class/gender group. For centuries. You see criticism of the practice here and there, but nothing that really stuck.

The objections slowly increased until roughly the mid-1920s, when everything reached a tipping point and pierced ears became largely taboo for most white Americans and Brits of northern/western European descent. If that sounds HIGHLY specific, it is- communities from southern and sometimes eastern Europe retained cultural practices of ear piercing, to the point where it was often used as a point against them by mainstream society. It was also associated with Latino people, Black people, and the Romani, which. Yeah. I don't need to tell you how that went down.

It also developed associations with sexual immorality and/or backwards thinking. One newspaper letter I read came from a teen girl in the 1940s, wondering why she shouldn't pierce her ears if her very respectable grandmother had piercings. The response was something like "well, they did all sorts of things in the Bad Old Days that we shouldn't do now." True in many ways, or course, but...piercing your ears? That's the hill culture decided to die on as far as antiquated behavior that we should leave behind? Apparently yes.

Earrings themselves never went out of style, which led to the birth of clip-ons and screwbacks. Ironic that the "don't surfer for fashion" crowd was so eager to embrace screwing tiny vices onto your ears, but there we are. My own mother (born 1953) remembers her mother (born 1926) always taking off her screwback earrings immediately after getting home from a party, literally in the foyer of their house the second the door shut. There had been adaptations for unpierced ears before- Little Women, published in 1868, describes Meg March hanging earrings from a flesh-colored silk ribbon tied around the base of her ear -but they'd never caught on like this before.

However, the pendulum was soon to swing back. After just 40 years of Piercing Panic, in the 1960s, girls began piercing their ears again in droves. As piercing moved from the slumber party or summer camp back to the professional jewelers whose families had been early professional piercers in the 19th century- and to befuddled doctors who had no idea what they were doing yet still received piercing requests -cultural commentators had no idea what to make of it. Some decried the new trend while most took an air of bemused neutrality. My personal favorite article expressed surprise that "Space Age misses" were adopting these "Victorian traditions."

(In 1965, my grandmother took Mom to the anesthesiologist down the street who was offering to pierce his young daughter's friends gratis, and got it done. My grandfather had strongly disapproved of the idea, but in the end it took him a week to notice the new earrings.)

As to sources...honestly, I've just gone to Google Books, specified a time frame, and typed in "ear piercing," "pierced ears," "pierce ears," etc. Tons of primary sources at your fingertips, though I'm not always great about documenting or saving what I find. There's not much written about it formally, I've found- no books or scholarly studies. It may just be too close in history to attract much academic attention, though I find it fascinating.

This little blip where something that's been normal for most of western history suddenly became taboo for a hot second.

Also my ear piercings just turned 20 five days ago, commemorating the date that I was taken with much ceremony to Piercing Pagoda (and that horrible gun; it's a wonder I didn't get keloids) to get me out from underfoot while the Thanksgiving feast was being made. Grandma got hers pierced on the same day, at age 78. Happy Birthday, Marzi's ear piercings!

[thehalftrollscholar]

I found this in my drafts and am kicking myself for never posting it.

Thx for the tag @cave-cryptid

Are you named after anyone? My first name is from my great uncle, who my Mom was really close too. My middle name(which people usually call me because it’s shorter) is my paternal grandmother’s step-father’s surname.

When was the last time you cried? Last week when I missed a college exam and was having an existential crisis. I’m better now.

Do you have kids? No, but it’s one of my main goals in life.

Do you do any sports? I’m on the school archery team, went to states last year.

Do you use sarcasm? Yes, it’s a family tradition. And I’m proud of it.

What’s the first thing you notice about people? Any identifying marks. Growing up the older brother of three sisters I was taught to always watch out for people who gave the wrong vibe. Dad always told me I should be able to describe anyone I saw with at least three detailed features.

What colour are your eyes? Hazel, tends to turn more green when I have strong emotions.

Scary movies or happy endings? Scary movies with a happy ending. The scarier the middle the happier and more deserved the ending feels!

Any talents? I’m a pretty decent writer, good at improv and character acting. Good at chess. I’m a good swimmer. I’ve been told I’m a good public speaker.

Where were you born? Under a lovely little bridge in Missouri. Next question!

What are your hobbies? Reading, writing, blacksmithing, wood burning, hiking, used to do competitive ballet/tap. DnD is a big hobby of mine. Forever DM. Violin is one of my favorites.

Do you have any pets? A red heeler mix(cattle dog if you don’t know breeds), an adorable black cat, 25 guinea fowl/chickens, and three little sisters.

How tall are you? Barely 5’5 with size 13 shoes. And two of my best friends are like 6’3. Of course we’re all dorks. Lot of hobbit jokes.

Favourite subjects in school? Literature, though world cultures are a close second.

Dream Job? I’d love to be an author and travel the world. I’d also really like to go into international law and business. That would help fund being able to travel and write.

Or a trophy husband.

15 Questions 15 Mutuals

@kaiarchives tagged me in this game that I haven't had the pleasure of seeing before, so that's exciting. The rules are: Answer the 15 questions and tag 15 of your mutuals.

1. Are you named after anyone?

No.

2. When was the last time you cried?

Last Sunday. I don't think it was for any particular reason, I just had a headache and was feeling down.

3. Do you have kids?

No.

4. What sports do you play/have played?

I played a bit of a football as a kid and a bit of volleyball for school. I also did range shooting in my tween years.

5. Do you use sarcasm?

Quite a lot. I've been trying to cut back and be a bit more genuine, but my habit for being sarcastic and my generally low moods have given me a bit of Resting Bitch Voice, so people don't always pick up on it.

6. What's the first thing you notice about people?

Facial shape I think. Before I learn someone's name I generally remember them by the shape of their jaw and cheeks.

7. What's your eye color?

Blue, but it's a kinda greyish blue.

8. Scary movies or Happy endings

I like scary movies with happy endings. Give me protagonists who face down with the worst of humanity or the nasties of the world and come out alive and swinging, if not a bit traumatized.

9. Any talents?

I'm told I have a way with words. In general I don't believe in talent in the "innate skill" way though.

10. Where were you born?

Oslo, Norway.

11. What are your hobbies?

Writing, reading, movies, video games (mostly strategy and roguelikes,) I used to sing in a choir and I kind of want to get back into that.

12. Do you have any pets?

No. Haven't really had the opportunity to, but I'd like to get a dog someday.

13. How tall are you?

178 cm, so... what, 5'10?

14. Favorite subject in school

Language and it's not close at all. Social Sciences as a second place I suppose.

15. Dream Job?

Author. Give me a way to live from writing and I'll churn out books at a brazen clip. It might drive me crazy, but it'll be worth it.

As for the tags: @frostedlemonwriter @shay-puppitty @longwuzhere @indigostudies @an-elegant-void @mjjune @marlenadutch @fire-but-ashes-too @meerawrites @sparrowrising @silverslipstream @floweryprosegarden @the-secondborn-of-seven @chishiio @a-had-matter

[unknownati]

iv. ekko x gn!black!reader hcs

a/n: they got me yall.

sorry for whoever followed me for tlou content we'll be having a brief intermission i'll come back to them in a minute js let me get this out my system 😭🙏🏾

warnings/tags: no use of y/n, no mention of reader's features (except for being black, but it's only in a few points 🤷🏾‍♀️ so it can be read otherwise), arcane s2 spoilers (minor), sfw and nsfw hcs, (oral sex, kinks, riding), in some au where everyone is happy and nothing bad ever happened 😊, never proofread we ball 🔥

______________________________________________

sfw:

- i feel like ekko is a bit shy (awkward shy though, not shy-shy...does that make sense) when you first get into a relationship with him, and it's just because he's shocked that he's managed to get with you. at first he's stumbling over words, playing off your compliments, desperately trying to keep eye contact with you but if he does he just keeps smiling because you look so good.

-one time, while riding past you on his hoverboard, you waved at him. he waved back, but even as you walked away his eyes kept following you. if it wasn't for scar warning him at the last second, he would've crashed straight into a wall.

- his cockiness comes later into your relationship, every successful action he does followed by a grin that you roll your eyes at.

-and did y'all see the way he looked at powder in ep. 7? his puppy dog eyes are LETHAL.

-he doesn't even know it either. every time he wants something, he just looks at you with those eyes and murmurs "please, ☆?" you fold so quick.

-(you've tried to learn to resist his eyes as they are what caused you to sprain your ankle in a hoverboarding accident since he begged you to race him. he just wanted to show off, too. he didn't stop apologizing for weeks.)

-he usually doesn't really like people touching his hair. he's fine with the kids doing it from time to time, but in general it's not his favorite thing in the world.

-you, however

-you get a pass because you get it. you know how it feels for your hair to just be like a petting zoo from time to time. you know exactly how to help him care for his hair, so much so that he's stopped doing his own retwists. (not like they stay in for very long, you immediately help him sweat it out 😊)

-he's made a lot of random little things for you, like a small chain necklace with an empty locket. he kind of sucks at wrapping gifts though, so he just handed it to you with a stupid smile while you two were perched at the top of the firelight tree.

-"ekko, this is so cute," you mutter, your bottom lip jutted out in adoration as you inspect the delicately crafted chain. small mistakes here and there, but you loved it.

-he also learned how to sew just so he could make you a bonnet/durag. he even sewed a crude little "e" in the corner of it, and made himself one with your initial in it as well.

-will randomly shadow box you out of no where. it's some form of cuteness aggression or something, because you'll be talking about your day while absent-mindedly twiddling with the hem of your shirt, and suddenly there are fists flying towards you that he knows to never let connect.

-"...ekko, the fuck are you doing?"

-he makes small noises that sound like "shoo" every time his fist flies, watching you stare at him with an unimpressed look.

-saw someone else say this but yeah ekko can't hoop. sorry

-he CANNOT hide his facial expressions. he may tell you one thing, but his face will never lie. if you're out eating and you feed him a bite of your food, you can watch his face contort into one of disgust, so much so that he almost looks offended. upon realizing that he doesn't want to yuck your yum, he'll fix his face into the fakest smile you've ever seen and nod.

-"...ekko, go spit it out."

-you've never seen him reach for a napkin any quicker.

-idk who the arcane universe's michael jackson is but, when he was younger he absolutely learned all the dances.

-probably the biggest softie the world has ever seen. he's very tough in public, but once he closes the door behind you two and climbs into bed with you, he's clinging onto you like a sloth.

-if you like painting your nails, he'll (hesitantly) allow you to paint his nails to match yours.

-(these next few ones are sliiightly for me 🤭)

-loves when you draw on his arms.

-until he can't get whatever marker you used off of his skin in the shower, so now he's walking around looking like a coloring book with little flowers, hearts, and signatures on his arms.

-he hangs up all the drawings you make of him up along his work space. sometimes he forgets one and leaves it on his desk, so it's a pleasant surprise to find a drawing of himself among scattered and disorganized papers while he was cleaning up.

-has gotten used to you randomly biting him. you'll come up behind him while he's working, and he already knows it's coming when you rest your chin on his exposed shoulder. 2 seconds later, your teeth are sinking into his skin. he just chuckles, but he does ask once.

-"why do you do that?"

-"oh, i dunno. i just like doing it. 's how you know i like you."

nsfw (very brief i'm sorry):

-praise kink. you couldn't tell me otherwise

-loves giving praise, loves receiving praise.

-when he's giving you head, he almost does it for his own pleasure. feeling your hand rub against his undercut while you whine and mutter "fuuuck, ekko, you're so good. don't stop please" is all he needs

-and i'm glad we've all agreed he's a thigh guy too 🙌🏾

-and IK we say this about every fictional man but HE WHIMPERS.

-he starts off with groans and grunts, but the closer he gets, the more his voice starts to shake and his words start to become whines.

-he looooves when you ride him holy shit

-looking up at you while your face contorts in pleasure is absolutely on his top 10.

-and if you stare into his eyes while you do it? his soul has left thanks!

-in general he loves eye contact. when you look up at him with his length between your lips, you can see his brain start to short-circuit.

-he's definitely the type to make sure you finish first before he even gets to think about his own pleasure.

-he's usually super sleepy afterwards too, but he refuses to lay down for a second until he makes sure you're all cleaned up and comfortable before he's out cold on your chest.

______________________________________________

[meazalykov]

social media series

part four

summary: reader loves having an aesthetic and authentic instagram

warnings: just pretend it's you in the pictures ❤️.

y/n.l/n

liked by keirawalsh, esmeebrugts, and 50,012 others

y/n.l/n onto the quarterfinals 🩵 # championsleague

view comments

❤️ *liked by author*

ingrid_engen ❤️❤️❤️

random1018 benfica gave y'all a FIGHTTT

mancitysupport293 your screamer was so amazing until lucy ruined it with that own goal 😒😒

user2738 lucy recovered and scored afterwards lol calma

❤️ *liked by author*

sydneylohmann 💙

❤️ *liked by author*

esmeebrugts 🪄🪄

❤️ *liked by author*

alexiaputellas vamoooss ❤️😂

y/n.l/n 😂❤️❤️

username77777 noticed you and aitana talking to kika from Benfica earlier 👀

culery/n17 isn't y/n known for being friends with everyone lol what is this supposed to mean

username77777 @/culery/n7 I'm joking about them bringing kika to barcelona lol

benficafan1910 no.

~view all 1,019 comments~

january 31st, 2024

y/n.l/n

liked by esmeebrugts, laurafreigang, and 34,910 others

y/n.l/n 💙❤️

view comments

fcbfan2829 ANOTHER HAT TRICK 😮‍💨 WOOO

random8292 second hat trick with barcelona in under a month... I know who my 2024 ballon d'or winner is

❤️ *liked by author*

laurafreigang 🥶

❤️ *liked by author*

sydneylohmann 🩵

❤️ *liked by author*

esmeebrugts i want to be like you when I grow up

y/n.l/n I want to be you omg lets swap

~view all 462 comments~

february 8th, 2024

woso.couples (you're there instead of sam kerr in the photos below)

liked by fcbfanz4, soccerdonna, and 399 others

woso.couples new photos of sydney and y/n 🥹 my favorites <3

view comments

random2829 urn where did you get these pics from??

woso.couples laura posted them in her last photo dump 😄

user281919 I wonder how their relationship works. does y/n fly to munich whenever she doesn't have anything with barcelona? does sydney come to barcelona when she doesn't have anything with bayern? I am curious.

woso.couples I would say both, but y/n has been spotted in munich a bit more.

❤️ *liked by author*

laurafreigang my favorites too

woso.couples OMG???

y/n.l/n 😂😭

~view all 59 comments~

february 19th, 2024

y/n.l/n

{tagged: trinity_rodman (4th)}

liked by sophsssmith, sscofff, aitanabonmati, and 80,172 others

y/n.l/n loved spending three weeks with my national team girls, gold in the gold cup for the golden girlies of course

view comments

❤️ *liked by author*

lindseyhoran10 gold gold gold gold gold gold gold gold golden golden golden golden golden golden golden

❤️ *liked by author*

sophsssmith love your whole life 💙💙💙

❤️ *liked by author*

jennanighswonger so so cool

fcbfemenisupport now time to win the champions league in europe 🤗

❤️ *liked by author*

vickylopezz._ that is a lot of gold in one sentence

y/n.l/n you should get used to it, golden girl!

~view all 2,019 comments~

march 13th, 2024

part five

I do not own any photos used for this fic.

[wheels-of-despair]

Moment of Truth Pairing: Eddie Munson x Evil Woman Summary: Eddie is forced to have a terrifying conversation. Contains: Awkwardness, unnecessary panic, family fluff. Words: 1.4k

Eddie Munson lifts his fist to a familiar door and hesitates before knocking on it. Is he really doing this? Does this even need to be done? Can't he just…

He can feel Wayne glaring at him from across town.

He sighs and knocks gently, scrunching his eyes shut and bracing himself. He hears footsteps approach. The click of a lock. The creak of the door opening. He feels the warmth from within.

"I'd ask what you're doing up this early, but it would appear you've fallen asleep on my doorstep," an amused voice says.

Eddie opens his eyes, so nervous that he can't give that excellent greeting the smile it deserves.

"What's wrong, honey?"

It's just Mary. His girlfriend's mom. A person who feeds him multiple times a week. Keeps the cabinets stocked with his favorite snacks. Has never yelled at him or told him to get out of her house. Has declared him her favorite child, even though he's not really hers. Made him a Christmas stocking and a dang Easter basket. Why is this so hard? Why is Eddie Munson, loud-ass Eddie Munson who never shuts up, suddenly unable to form a single word?

"Do you want me to go get--" Mary gestures vaguely behind her, but Eddie shakes his head quickly. She tilts her head to the side, analyzing him. Probably seeing right through him. He's doomed. He braces himself when she opens her mouth to speak again, but what comes out is, "Will you at least come in before you catch a cold?"

Eddie stands there for a few seconds, stunned. When he comes to his senses, he nods once, and she stands aside to let him into the kitchen. Once he's inside, his body leads him to the table. To his chair. He's here so often, he has his own spot at the table. He stares at the wood grain and focuses on his breathing, trying to gather his courage. This should not be so fucking hard.

A cup of coffee slides into view. The one with the Garfield comic on it. His favorite. He reaches for the cup and takes a drink, hoping it will give him the jolt he needs.

The woman even knows how he takes his fucking coffee.

Eddie blows out a long breath and looks up at her, sitting across from him. Still in her bathrobe. Hands around her steaming mug. A curious look on her face.

"I love your daughter," Eddie finally gets out.

"I've always suspected," Mary says, trying to hide her smile behind her coffee cup.

Eddie feels a little less nervous and a little more at home with each passing second. Maybe the coffee warmed up whatever part of his brain froze on the way over here.

"I've been talking to Wayne," he explains, the words finally coming to him. "And he says you have to get the father's permission to ask a girl to marry you. I told him it was an old and outdated tradition and she'd probably kick my ass and lecture me about women's lib or something, but he insisted. 'That's the way we do things, boy'," Eddie says in his best Wayne impression. He looks up for a reaction, but there isn't one. He clears his throat and continues. "And I know she doesn't give a flying… crap about her old man. She'd die laughing if she thought I asked Gareth permission for anything. So can I ask you?"

Mary takes another sip of her coffee and appears to consider it. That's good, right? She puts her cup down and leans forward, lacing her fingers on the table. He's dead, he's so dead.

"Edward?"

"Yes, ma'am?" he asks, trying not to tremble.

"Are you asking for my permission to ask me a question?"

Eddie feels his face flush, but he nods.

"Proceed," she says, crossing her arms and leaning back in her chair with a smirk that she definitely passed on to her daughter. Of course she's not going to make this easy on him. He gathers his courage. Moment of truth. Now or never. He can do this.

"CanImarryyourdaughter?"

Eddie's world stops as his words - or is just one big word? - hang in the air. He can't breathe. He can't blink. All he can do is watch the face of the person who will decide his fate. She considers it for what feels like ages, but eventually, a twinkle in her eye gives him hope.

"Eddie?"

"Yes, ma'am?"

"What took you so damn long?"

Eddie lets out the breath he's been holding all morning, feeling light-headed all of a sudden. That's a yes. They laugh together and sip their coffee quietly for a moment.

"You know," she says softly, "I put on a brave face for the kids, but I was so nervous about moving here. Starting over is terrifying. It really could've gone either way. Those first few weeks weren't great. The kids didn't know anybody. Couldn't even get them to leave the house. Hawkins felt so different from home. I was starting to think we'd made a huge mistake... and then, school started. Gareth came home rambling about joining a real Dungeons and Dragons club with his new friends. And you know what my daughter said to me, after her first day at her new school? Something she'd been dreading and griping about for months?"

Eddie shakes his head.

"She said, 'Mom, I'm gonna marry the guy I sat next to in homeroom.'"

Eddie's eyes fill with tears. Mary reaches across the table and puts her hand on his.

"You've been a part of this family since the day my kids met you, Eddie," she smiles. "So yes. Yes, you absolutely have my permission to make it official and marry my daughter."

"Thank you," he whispers, wiping his stupid eyes with his free hand. Stop leaking! This is a happy occasion!

"After you both graduate," she says firmly.

Eddie nods his head in agreement.

"Why are you here?" a sleepy voice asks from behind him. Eddie whirls around in his chair and spots his future wife standing in the doorway in rumpled pajamas and messy hair. He'll never love anyone else. "And more importantly, why are you crying?" she asks, suddenly more awake.

"I'm not crying," he argues.

"Mom, what'd you do to him?" she accuses, coming to stand behind him and put her hands on his shoulders. "You know I'm the only one allowed to make him cry!"

"I'm not crying, dammit!" he insists, wiping his eyes with his fists.

"Who's crying?" Gareth yawns, appearing in the doorway.

"All of us, now that you've cloaked us in that cloud of toxic fumes you call morning breath," the Evil One snarks. Gareth sticks out his tongue and breathes at her, and she pretends to stagger and faint, landing in the chair next to Eddie. She smiles and reaches out to move a stray strand of hair out of his face.

"I'm making a breakfast casserole," her mom announces, getting up from the table.

"That takes forever," Gareth whines.

"Then go back to sleep 'til it's ready," she answers, opening a cabinet and pulling out a mixing bowl.

"Do you need help?" her daughter asks dutifully, while her son drags his feet into the living room and collapses on the couch with a grunt.

"Nope," comes the answer. "Go back to bed, you sad excuses for teenagers are all up unnaturally early."

The love of Eddie's life looks at him with tired eyes and nods her head toward the bedroom. Taking the hint, Eddie gets up and pushes his chair in. She leaves the kitchen, yawning as she goes, knowing he'll follow.

"Hey," Mary says quietly, before Eddie disappears from sight. He slowly turns to face her. She crosses the room quickly and pulls him in for a hug. "You can call me Mom if you want to."

"Really?" he whispers. Mom. That's going to take some getting used to.

"Yeah," she says, pulling back to give him a meaningful look. "But I'd rather not be Grandma just yet, if you catch my drift."

"Yes, ma'am," he says quickly, feeling his face go red again.

"Go take a nap, favorite child of mine, I'll call you when breakfast is ready."

"Kay," he grins, spinning around and heading for bed with his future fiancée.

[tayraedoll]

The Devil at Play

You are a new sinner at the hotel; you are shy but you finally open up after a couple drinks at the bar. Angel Dust steers the conversation to his favorite spicy topic, little do you know there is someone else who is intently listening in.

My first attempt at a Lucifer fic! Let me know what you think <3

Word count: 3,824

18+ MDNI

TW: Alcohol, swearing, drunken shenanigans, sharing a bed, use of s3x toys, rose suction stimulator, fingering, fluff

"Say, is that a mirror in y'er pocket? Cuz I can see myself getting in y'er pants", Angel seductively wagged his eyebrows at Husk, making the feline roll his eyes and take another swig from his bottle.

You smiled into your second cosmopolitan, trying to suppress the giggle that wanted to bubble up. It had been two weeks since you joined the Hazbin Hotel crew and you finally felt comfortable enough to join the others for a drink at the bar. You were never the most social person in life, and that trait followed you into the afterlife. You had spent most of your nights by yourself either in your room or in a quiet part of the hotel like the library. You didn't have anything against the other residents, you were just super self-conscious in social situations. But you were determined to befriend the others and took the leap to finally put yourself out there a bit.

Charlie was definitely the easiest to be around, her bubbly personality made you feel at ease. You also did not have to talk much in her presence, the girl spoke a million words a minute which allowed you to largely just sit there and listen to her rambling. Vaggie was also alright, she wasn't nearly as talkative as her girlfriend but she had a calmness about her. Niffty and Husk mostly just ignored you, they'd briefly acknowledge your presence before getting caught up in their own worlds again. It took a few days for you to warm up to Angel Dust, his crude humor initially made you uncomfortable. But he saw how truly uneasy you were so he never directed those remarks at you which helped tremendously. Now, you were just as content in his presence as you were Charlie's. You honestly stayed clear of Alastor when you could, alarm bells would blare in your head when he was around and your stomach would flip nauseatingly. He was definitely outwardly sweet, but your gut told you not to trust him so you vowed to keep the deer demon at arms distance.

The only resident that you just could not get a read on at all was the King of Hell himself. Lucifer was always so distant, you couldn't recall a single actual conversation shared between the two of you in your entire time at the hotel. Although he didn't necessarily make you feel unwelcome, you did not think he was particularly fond of you either. Part of you wanted to confront him, ask him what his problem with you was; but the other part of you figured the only thing worse than the Devil's cold shoulder would be his wrath. Unwilling to risk angering the fallen angel, you resigned yourself to the act of pretending the other person didn't exist.

'God he was pathetic, two weeks have gone by and he still hadn't mustered the courage to talk to you!', Lucifer thought to himself. Every time he took the initial step to finally strike up a conversation he would inevitably psych himself out of it; he was afraid of coming off weird or worse- desperate. The Devil used to be a smooth talker, but Lilith walking out on him wreaked havoc on his self-esteem. Now, it seemed all he could do is watch you from afar, perpetually tongue-tied and timorous.

He swirled his whiskey around in the glass, watching the amber liquid intently as he tried to come up with yet another reason to talk to you. He sighed heavily, maybe he should just go to bed instead and save himself any more embarrassment.

"So Whispers," Lucifer perked up at hearing Angel's nickname for you, he thought it was positively adorable, "what does it take to make you scream?" Lucifer nearly choked on his whiskey, struggling to stifle his cough in his jacket.

You felt your face heat up, you swished your cosmo before downing the whole thing in one gulp. The alcohol in your system was making you more brazen, with a determined hum to yourself you set the glass back down with a little more force than necessary before turning to face the pornstar.

"You know what? I don't think I ever have. I think that is just some ploy pornos use to make sex seem better than it actually is", you smirk at the stunned look in the spider's eyes, his jaw practically unhinged with how low it dropped.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa timeout here Whispers! Are you tellin me you ain't ever orgasmed before?!", Angel narrowed his eyes at you, trying to detect any hint of deception.

"No- I mean I have! It's just...it's never been like what porn makes it look like! You know- like the 'can't walk straight, seeing stars, and brain won't function anymore' kind. In reality, it's a lot more subtle than that. That's all I'm saying", you shrug and look around the bar to escape Angel's look of complete horror. Your eyes find Lucifer's across the bar- he is staring right at you with such intensity you felt his eyes bore right into your very soul. You swallow dryly and turn back to Angel, his aghast expression was much preferable to Lucifer's fierce staring contest.

"Sweet Satan Babycakes, I don't think you've EVER had GOOD sex before! Don't worry, we will fix this! I will get you set up with an online dating profile and we will get you laid by the end of the week", Angel reached for your phone- which you were thankfully able to grab first you shuddered to think about what the pornstar would write for a dating profile.

"Thanks Angel but I am not really wanting to meet anyone right now. Besides, I promise you I am more than capable of taking care of myself", you shoot him a wink. "I'm off to bed, goodnight everyone!" After the resounding chorus of 'goodnights' from the other guests you make your way to the stairs, completely unaware of the yellow eyes that followed your every step until you were out of sight.

An hour later you were freshly showered and changed into your comfiest PJ's; you were about to get into bed when there was a knock at your door. You sighed heavily, you swear if Angel was at your door with a picture of a dude on a dating app you were going to to shave all of fluff right off. Half-stomping to the door you open it roughly, "Angel really, I'm ser-". Your eyes became wide as saucers, it was not Angel at your door as you expected but Lucifer himself. "Uhhh...what can I do for you Luc- I mean your majesty?!" Heat spread throughout your face and neck, no doubt you were tomato red right now.

"Luc-ifers f-fine sweet-art", he slurred back. You raise a brow and appraise the Devil before you; he was utterly disheveled- his shirt untucked, vest and tie pulled open, hair a wild mess like his hands kept running through it, and his eyes were completely glazed over. The angel was completely shit-faced and standing at your door in the middle of the night- great. But WHY was he here? And did he really need to get absolutely hammered in order to talk to you? Your smile faltered, that thought stung more than you cared to admit.

"Sooo uhh Lucifer, is there something I can help you with?" you cock your head to the side questioningly.

The blonde beamed at you with the brightest smile, your heart becoming a puddle in your chest at the sight, "Yes! Y/N, would you do me the date of going on an honor with me? Wait-what?"

You couldn't help the giggle that escaped you, he was too stinkin cute, "Maaayyybe we should revisit this conversation tomorrow when you have sobered up."

"NO!", he suddenly wrapped his fingers around your shoulders, you let out a gasp of surprise as you stared into his wild eyes. "I-I'm so sorry. You're right, I just...don't know if I'll have the courage to." Your heart broke, he looked close to tears and was having a hard time looking you in the eyes. "I've been trying to talk to your for weeks...I'm such a coward", he sniffed and moved to pull away from you, however, you were quick to grab hold of him and wrap him in a tight hug.

"It's okay, I have a hard time talking to others as well. That doesn't make you a coward", you feel him wrap his arms around you in return, you vow to hold him for as long as he needed.

After several minutes he shifted more of his weight onto you, making you stumble and readjust so neither of you fell. "Hey Lucifer?", you were met with silence. "Lucifer!", this time you got a small snore. Fantastic, now he was asleep practically on top of you. Now what were you supposed to do about this? You looked around, no one was in the hallway, likely everyone had gone to bed already. You sighed, you were not strong enough to carry him up three flights of stairs to his room, nor could you just leave him on the hallway floor. Your only liable option was to bring him into your room and share the bed, it was at least big enough that you could share it without needing to touch each other.

You half-dragged/half-carried the King of Hell to your bed and set him on the edge. You took the time to remove his shoes before tucking his legs under the covers and bringing the comforter up to his chin. He had a soft smile on his face, it was the first time you had ever seen him look peaceful. You smiled at him for a moment, "Goodnight Lucifer", you whispered. Your feet padded softly on the floor as you tiptoed to the other side of the bed, carefully slinking in so you wouldn't disturb his majesty. With a final glance at the angel beside you, you let your consciousness drift into dreams of yellow eyes and warm hugs.

Lucifer grumbled unhappily, pushing his face further into his pillow in an attempt to block out some of the light seeping in through the window. He just became aware of the pounding headache behind his eyes, Satan why did he drink so much?! Okay yea, perhaps the 4 whiskey sours he chugged before running to your room were a bit much...WAIT. He froze, memories suddenly crashing back into his mind. HE. HAD. COME. TO. YOUR. ROOM. Yellow eyes flew wide open- the baby blue comforter, the Verosika poster on the wall, and the side table full of make-up, perfume, and lotion were DEFINITELY not his. He slowly picked his head up and his breath caught in his throat- he was on top of you, hugging you koala-bear style, and what he thought was the comfiest pillow in existence was actually your left breast. HE WAS NUZZLING HIS FACE INTO YOUR BOSOM NOT EVEN 60 SECONDS AGO!

Thankfully, what was left of his lucky stars came together and you were not yet awake to find him in such a compromising position. However, with how he was wrapped around you there was a high chance that he would wake you by moving. Slowly, he extracted his arms from underneath you one at a time; he breathed a sigh of relief when he was safely moved over to "his" side of the bed. Now what? Did he just continue to lay here until you woke up? Would it be weirder if he watched you sleep or if he just left and made you wake up alone? Luckily (the the second time already this morning), his thoughts did not have to spiral for long before you stirred beside him. You groggily blinked the sleep from your beautiful eyes before gifting him with your radiant smile, "Good morning! Sleep well?"

The angel chuckled nervously, golden blush painting his cheeks as he awkwardly scratched the back of his neck, "Yea, better than I have for a while honestly. Thank you." You both fall into an uncomfortable silence, neither of you knowing where to go from here.

"So uhh.."

"About last night-"

You both stop, giving the other room to speak first which only led to more unpleasant silence.

"Ladies first."

"No, I insist, you first"

Lucifer coughed nervously, "I'm sorry for last night. I shouldn't have come to your room, especially in such an inebriated state. But thank you for not kicking me out or otherwise shunning me."

You gave him a small smile "Well, I couldn't just leave our king alone in the hallway. What kind of hostess would that have made me?" The king chuckled before you continued in a barely audible whisper, "Do you remember what you said last night?"

Lucifer's eyebrows scrunched together as he carded through his memories, trying to figure out what you could be referring to. His eyes went wide before he turned back to you,"Yes!"

You each just stared at each other for a bit, both equally flushed. Finally, you broke the silence, "Yes...you remember?"

"Oh! Golly, I am so sorry! Yes, I remember and YES I would still like to take you out on a date! I-if you would like to go that is...on a date...with me."

Your happy giggle sounded like music to his ears, you gently reached for is hand and intertwined your fingers together, "I'd love to. I mean, technically, we have already slept together", you shot him a wink.

Lucifer gave you a sultry smile, "Ah yes, I will make sure that I am sober next time so I can fully enjoy the experience." You laughed, getting up to collect your things to get ready for the day. Lucifer followed suit, patting around the bed for his phone; when he couldn't find it he reached for the bedside table. Upon opening a drawer he found a peculiar device- it was in the shape of rose with an opening in the middle. Intrigued, the demon king pushed the "on" button and suction took place at the opening.

Lucifer's face turned a brilliant gold when he realized what he was holding. And it was just his luck that you happened to walk back over at that moment.

"So, what's on the ag-", you cut off when you saw your sex toy in the angel's hand; all you two could do was stare at each other- seemed you were doing that a lot lately. To break the tension, Lucifer said the first thing that came to mind.

"Does this make you scream?"

Your mind was blank, all trains of thought came to an abrupt halt when you found THE KING OF HELL with your rose clitoral stimulator in hand. You couldn't comprehend the question he asked, "Er...what?"

"Well I-uh...I remember Angel asking what made you scream at the bar last night and you said nothing. I must admit that I agree with Angel on thinking you have never, ever had good sex if you've never lost composure."

"Oh really? And do you think that YOU could make me lose my composure?", you crossed your arms in front of you and smirked.

The king stared back at you with wide eyes, the beautiful caramel color taking over his face again. You slowly approached him until you were standing just an inch apart, "Show me."

It was like a switch was flipped at your words, Lucifer's hands were on your hips and he began walking you backwards towards the bed. When your legs hit the bed, he raised one hand to gently cup your cheek as he leaned in to leave a tender kiss on your lips. His lips were as smooth as satin and tasted like candied apples; you moaned sensually, which he took advantage of by delving his tongue into your mouth.

Suddenly, his hand still on your hip turned you around so your back was to him. He sat back on the bed, pulling you with him until you were sat between his legs with your back pressed to his chest; you could feel his heart beating erratically, his body hard- hinting at the chiseled musculature that lay underneath his clothing. The king's panting breaths gently rocked you forward; he nuzzled his face into your neck, planting soft kisses on your sensitive skin.

Your hands gripped onto his knees as his hands slowly moved up your sides and fondled your breasts through your clothes, another wanton moan escaping you.

"Oh my sweet Angel, losing control already? I haven't even begun to touch you yet", Lucifer's voice had dropped an octave, deep and rich like barrel-aged bourbon. You pushed your breasts into his hands as her expertly kneaded them. He lightly gripped your shoulders and pushed you forward just enough for him to get your shirt over your head, he took your bra off as well before pulling you back to rest against him once more.

"Now, let's see what other pretty sounds you can make", he turned the suction on at the lowest setting again, the sound of the buzzing toy filling the room. The devil began by moving the toy down your neck and across your collarbone, the slight suction making your skin tingle. As he made his way down your décolleté, your grip on his knees tightened and whimper passed through your lips. The moment the suction caught onto your hardened nipple your back arched almost painfully and your mouth popped open into a perfect "O".

"That's it gorgeous, just relax, let me take care of you."

He increased the suction on your nipple by one setting, his other hand masterfully pinching and tweaking your other nipple. Your thighs clamped together, hips gyrating desperately to get friction between your legs as the heat in your lower belly blossomed. Lucifer returned his lips to your neck, nipping your skin and leaving dark bruises in his wake. You cried out in a half-moan/half-sob, the coil tightening alarmingly fast. You bit down on your lip as you struggled to ground yourself in the overwhelming pleasure.

"Oh no, no, no Sweetheart. No holding back your tempting cries, I want to hear them all", he removed his fingers from your breast to dip a claw into your mouth to free your lip from your teeth. Returning his fingers to your aching nipple, he swirled the same claw that was just in your mouth around the sensitive bud. All the sensations were too much, with a scream, you came undone under his fingers. Your head hit the demon's shoulder as you caught your breath. Did he really just make you cum by only touching your nipples?!

Before you knew what was happening, the rose was moving down your navel towards your waist. You were not sure how or when it happened but you now found yourself completely bare. Instinctively, you attempted to close your knees to hide yourself only to be stopped by two strong legs wrapping around your thighs and forcing them apart.

"That was a fabulous first act Angel, but it's time for the grand finale", Lucifer had not dropped that sultry tone. Your core clenched upon hearing the promise of pleasure in his voice, slick leaking from your needy hole and ruining the bedsheets underneath you. His fingers trailed down your side, tickling your belly, before slipping between your folds. A loud gasp erupted from you as the king lazily circled your sensitive nub, "So wet for me, such a good girl. Are you ready for more?"

His fingers parted your folds, holding your outer labia apart to expose your clit while his other hand held the rose to hover just above your most sensitive spot. You knew it was coming, but a jolt of electricity still rocked your every nerve ending the moment the suction hit your pearl. Your thighs immediately tensed almost painfully, Lucifer's own legs keeping you spread-eagled; a high-pitched trill resounded throughout the room.

"Just like that Doll, keep those gorgeous sounds coming", Lucifer's fingers slid down your lower lips and two digits pushed into you, rubbing along your gummy walls until he found that perfect spot that had your head falling back on his chest again. His fingers set a long, smooth rhythm, brushing that sweet spot over and over again. The squelching sound of his fingers disappearing into your pussy accompanying your cries.

You had lost control of your voice, your lewd moans escaping you completely unbidden as your whole body coiled impossibly tight. Knowing how close you were, The Devil pressed the button to increase the suction just a bit more and the damn finally broke. You came with such a deafening scream there was no way it was not heard throughout the entire hotel. Your head was spinning from the lack of oxygen to your brain, sweat covering you in a thin sheen as you panted. You could officially say you were fucked until you couldn't think straight.

Lucifer set the rose to the side and wrapped his arms around you, rubbing soothing circles up and down your arms as you came down from your high. He planted adoring kisses on the hickies left on your neck and licking up the trails of sweat.

"So, do you still believe that screaming is just some ploy used in porn to fake pleasure?", the angel asked when your breathing finally returned to normal.

You giggled, "I'll admit, that was the best sex I have ever had."

"Oh Darling, you know I am the sin of pride right? There is no reason to inflate my ego like that", you could feel his smile against your skin. You twisted around to face him, pressing your lips to his.

"If I had known you were capable of that, I would have spoken to you a long time ago", you winked.

"Well, now I'm worried that no conversation will live up to your expectations", he chuckled.

"Hmm, somehow I highly doubt that."

At that moment, your stomach embarrassingly decided to join the conversation. Lucifer smiled wider "Do you like pancakes?"

"I could definitely go for some pancakes right now", you nodded.

Lucifer kissed your temple, "I'll meet you downstairs then!" With that, The Devil disappeared into a portal and left you to get dressed. You couldn't help but smile as you replayed the unexpected turn of events. You were really happy you decided to go to the bar last night.

[thesparkling-diamond27]

Dancing Through Life

Fiyero Tigelaar x Reader

Summary: Y/n Upperland of the Upper Uplands, cousin to Galinda Upand, doesn’t have a problem with Fiyero Tigelaar, but that doesnt’t mean that she wants him around. However, after one simple walk with the Winkie Prince, Y/n discovers that he’s not so bad after all.

A/n: hi hi! I’m back with a Fiyero one shot, but that doesn’t mean that I’ve forgotten about the second Bridgerton and I. I’ve written two chapters so far over thanksgiving break and I might try to squeeze in one more chapter or at least half of one before I go back to school. I don’t really have enough time to write when I am at school, so the next time I’ll probably get back to writing during Christmas break which is in a couple weeks. Then I’ll finish the Bridgerton and I and I’m thinking about waiting to finish the Bridgerton and I completely before posting any more chapters, so the ff will probably be finished in December. I wrote this one shot because Wicked has been on my mind 24/7 and I can write whatever comes to mind, but for the Bridgerton and I have to sit down and rewatch Bridgerton episodes so that I can make sure I get all the words exactly right. I hope you guys continue to be patient as I try to finish it :).

I have recently seen the movie Wicked and plan to see 10 million more times because it is SO GOOD. Wicked is basically my whole personality at this point. I was already obsessed with Fiyero, but Jonathan Bailey as Fiyero made my obsession worse (but in a good way :)). And with this obsession comes a Jonathan Bailey Fiyero Tigelaar one shot. I hope you enjoy!! I also have a plan to write another one so stay tuned for that!

It was a beautiful day today, so after class I decided to read at my favorite spot: the bench under the oak tree. I loved it here because it was a peaceful place where I never got disturbed. Or so I thought.

I realized he was near when I heard the sound of boots stepping onto grass. It was only when his shadow blocked the words on the page that I finally looked up.

Fiyero looked down on me with curious eyes, but there was still a charming smile plastered on his face. I tried to hide how his smile affected me, but he must have noticed the change in my demeanor because his smile turned into a smirk.

I thought after my cousin Galinda introduced him to my brother and I earlier today would be the last time I saw him for the day. It appears the Winkie prince had other plans.

“Well what is Miss Upland doing under the oak tree?” He asked.

“Reading.” I held up my book for effect before I continued back to where I left off.

I saw him take a seat beside me on the bench in the corner of my eye.

“It’s Friday.” He continued.

I rolled my eyes. “I know. I can read calendars.” Fiyero chuckled at my blunt and snippy responses. He could clearly tell that I was annoyed by his presence, but he continued to talk anyway.

“It’s Friday and you are here reading under an oak tree. You should be out there having fun.” He used his hands to gesture to all the other students hanging out at the courtyard.

“This is fun to me.”

“School work is fun?”

“Well for your information this book is not for school it’s for me.”

“Well I believe you are filling your head with too many things. You’re thinking too much.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Well that’s not surprising coming from a prince like you.”

“A prince like me?” Fiyero gave a feigned pained expression. “I’m hurt that you would think that way about me.”

“Well I believe that you present yourself as self-absorbed and deeply shallow, but I don’t think you are. I think you use that as a front to hide the fact that you actually care and have thoughts.”

“Excuse me there’s no pretense here. I happen to be genuinely self-absorbed and deeply shallow.”

“Okay.” I said not believing him. I shut my book and stood from the bench. I finished the book I was reading and decided to go search for another one to read.

“Well I guess it was nice talking to you.”

I began to walk back to my room, but he blocked my path.

“Where are you going?”

“Back to my room to find another book.”

“Oh come on. Drop the book for once and have some fun.”

“No.”

I pushed past him and walked away without looking back. I was hoping he would leave me alone after that, but luck was not on my side today.

“Since you’re going back to your room, maybe I can save you the trouble of carrying your book all the way back.”

He grabbed the book from my hand before I could say anything.

“Hey give that back!”

I tried to grab the book back, but he raised the book above my head, so that I couldn’t reach and jumping up was no use. Fiyero was laughing at me struggling, so I sighed in defeat.

“Fine. You can help me carry my singular book up to my room.”

Fiyero was happy with my response because he was smiling from ear to ear. We were now standing nose to nose and I could feel his breath fan across my face. If I looked down I would have perfect access to his lips. Wait what was I thinking? I quickly backed away from him before I did anything stupid. Fiyero smiled down at me and said, “See now that wasn’t so hard now was it? Lead the way princess.”

I would he lying if I said I didn’t get affected by his words. Butterflies filled my stomach and I probably would have melted if I didn’t catch myself. What is wrong with me?

“Princess?”

“Yes princess. It suits you. Princess of the Upper Upperlands.” He said with a dramatic voice.

I was about to retaliate when a certain blondey came to mind.

“Shouldn’t you be calling Galinda princess?” I asked.

“Why would I do that?”

“Because you two are a thing.”

Fiyero chuckled. “I just met her this morning and besides I’m like this with everyone.”

My heart sunk at his words. So he was just treating me like everyone else? But why was I so upset about it? Just a few hours ago I wanted nothing to do with him and now I was disappointed that he’s not treating me differently.

“And if I called her princess then I wouldn’t be able to call you princess. Princess.” He said with a wink.

That definitely lifted my spirits. Sweet Oz! He was making feel a roller coaster of emotions. I could tell there will never be a dull moment with him.

I gave him a small smile but I looked down on the floor to hide it from him. I didn’t want him to notice that I started to warm up to him, but he saw the slight upturn of my lips.

“Well who knew that Miss Upland could smile. It’s a miracle!”

“Oh shut up!” I said, but you could hear the grin in my voice.

“Besides reading, what do you really do for fun?” I looked up at Fiyero and could tell that he truly wanted to know my genuine answer. So it seems that my premonition about him not being self-absorbed and deeply shallow was true.

“Umm…spending time with friends, swimming. Oh there’s a lake in the Upper Upperlands that my family and I go to every summer to cool off and it has such beautiful scenery. Not to mention the nearby ice cream shop…”

I stopped after I realized that I blabbered on. “I’m sorry I sort of got carried away.”

I looked up at Fiyero, but he didn’t seem bothered at all with my tangent. He actually seemed rather interested with what I had to say.

“No continue.” He said with an encouraging smile.

“No I’d rather not.”

I know he wanted to hear more, but he didn’t push me, which I was glad for. I was a little embarrassed with my little outburst.

“Well how about you discover a new way to have fun?” Fiyero said changing the subject.

“How?”

“Come with me to the Ozdust Ballroom tonight. The most swankified place in town.”

“Aren’t we not supposed to be off campus after dark?”

“Yes, but not being allowed to leave after dark makes it more fun!”

“I’ll pass.”

“Where’s your sense of adventure?”

“I left her at home.”

Fiyero paused before he burst into laughter.

“My joke wasn’t that funny.” But I couldn’t help but laugh along with Fiyero.

Fiyero paused again.“Your laugh.”

I took a few moments to recompose myself before asking, “What about my laugh?”

“It’s beautiful.”

I stopped walking and choked on air.

“What?” I asked, but Fiyero ignored me.

“Which way is your room?”

I realized that we have reached the dead end which separated into two hallways.

“This way.” I said as I begin to walk to the right. I walked a little faster to make this walk shorter. I have embarrassed myself way too many times in a such a short amount of time and I just wanted to smash my pillow in my face and scream. The rest of the way was silent until we reached my door.

“Well here we are. My humble abode.” I said. “Thank you for the uh…walk.”

“It was my pleasure. I hope to see you tonight at the Ozdust ballroom Miss Upland.

“Y/n.”

Fiyero smiled at my response.

“Y/n. I hope to see you tonight.”

I opened the door and was about to walk in, but I turned around instead.

“I know you like to put on the facade that you are this Winkie prince who doesn’t have a care in the world, but you’re also human. Yes you might be self-absorbed and shallow, but that’s not all of you and you have thoughts that should be shared. If you take away your crowd of admirers you’ll be left with the real you. If you want to continue with this role in front of everyone then that’s fine…,but you don’t have to be that way with me.”

Fiyero’s expression was unreadable, but I could have sworn I saw flickers of fear and appreciation.

“Y/n…I don’t know what to say.”

His hands fell to his sides and I realized that he still had my book. I slowly inched towards his hand and pulled the book from his grasp. But before I pulled away I took his hand in mine and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“You don’t have to say anything.” I said with a smile.

He nodded and with one last squeeze I pulled away and slowly closed the door shut.

—————————

I laid in my bed, for what seemed like hours, contemplating whether I should go to the Ozdust ballroom or not. I turned to my night stand to see that it’s only been a half hour. I groaned in frustration and covered my face with my pillow. Then I heard a knock at the door. I rose from my bed and opened it to see my brother Ezra.

“You. Me. Ozdust. Tonight.” He said as he entered my room.

“You know about that too?” I said as I shut the door.

“How do you know about it?” He asked curiously.

“I was invited.” I said as I plopped onto my bed. Ezra raised an eyebrow at my words and joined me.

“You were invited?! I wasn’t even invited! Who invited you?”

“So how do you know about it?” I asked avoiding what he asked me.

“I overheard some students talking about it, but don’t avoid the question. Who invited you?”

“Fiyero.”

Ezra’s eyebrows shot up to the ceiling.

“Fiyero Tigelaar of Winkie country? But you hate him.”

“I don’t hate him! Where did you get that impression.”

“When Galinda introduced us to him you didn’t seem to be too pleased with him.”

I thought back to the first impression I had of Fiyero when I first met him.

When he first stood in front of me I took a good look at him and he was exactly what I expected from a Winkie prince. He was dressed to the nines from head to toe. You could tell his blue jacket and pants were made to perfection and the gold accents were sewn with precision. His black polished boots were so shiny that you could even see your own reflection in them. And that was just his clothes.

Fiyero had an aura about him. It was as if he believed he always had to be the center of attention. Reminds me of someone that I know, but I know that Galinda has a heart. It was too soon to tell if he genuinely cares, but by the way he acted and the way the students nearby looked at him, I could already tell that his way of life to everyone else was fake.

Then he approached me later on in the day and I got to know him a little more. I soon realized that he wasn’t all so bad by himself. It was only when he was around everyone else where his walls come up and he acts out his facade.

“I guess I had a change of heart.” I finally answered.

“Uh huh. And how did Fiyero even get the chance to talk to you. The only way that can happen is if you two hung out alone.” Ezra said teasingly as he wiggled his eyebrows. I laughed at his antics.

“Fiyero might have interrupted my peaceful reading time earlier today and I got to know him a little more.”

“Oh?!”

“And before you say anything else there was nothing else to it. He offered to walk me back to my room and that’s when he invited me to the Ozdust ballroom. On our walk back I got to know him a little better and he’s not so bad by himself.”

“Hmm hmm.”

“Nothing else happened!”

“Hey I said nothing!” Ezra said as he lifted his hands to the sides of his face in defense. “But this means that you’re coming!”

“I didn’t say yes.”

“Why-“

“But I didn’t say no either. I’m still thinking about my answer.”

Ezra looped his arm with mine.

“Now I’m forcing you to come because I’m coming and I’m not going to have you sit pathetically in your room.”

“I’m not going to—“

“Ah uh. I won’t take no for an answer. And don’t say you don’t have anything to wear. Your wardrobe is almost as grand and big as Galinda’s.”

Ezra did have a point. I worried about my appearance and wardrobe just as much as Galinda, but I didn’t flaunt it as much as my cousin did.

“Come on.” Ezra grabbed my hands and pulled me up from my bed. He led me to one of my luggage’s that turned into a closet with the push of a button. Ezra pushed the button and pushed me towards my array of dresses.

“Well go on.” He prompted.

I stumbled upon the rack and begin to flip through my choices until I came across a dress that brought a smile to my face.

—————————

Ezra and I missed the boat that Galinda and Fiyero went on, so we arrived at the Ozdust ballroom a little later. I peeked over the corner and was in awe with what I saw.

The entrance of the ballroom had a ginormous staircase which led to the dance floor. At the end of the room was where a band of animals were playing the music. On the ceiling schools of fish were dancing in formation to the beat of the music. That’s when I realized that this ballroom was underwater. That was something I’ve never seen before.

Ezra and I began to walk down the staircase and I began to notice a lot of familiar faces from school.

“Do people come here often?” I asked Ezra. He first attended Shiz last year, so he had a whole year of experience before I came along.

“I would say so. It’s where most people go over the weekend, but this is the first time I’ve ever gone.”

I looked at him shocked. “Really?!”

“Yeah. I’ve never been invited and I’ve always wanted to go, but I never knew how to get here until I overheard those two girls talking today.”

“Well today’s your lucky day!” I said with a smile.

“Indeed it is.” He said with a chuckle. “Oh I see some of my friends I invited over there. Will you be okay on your own?”

“Yeah I will. Galinda should be around here somehere.”

“And Fiyero.” Ezra said with a glint of mischievousness.

“Yeah him too.”

Ezra laughed before he walked over to his two friends. Now I was left alone to fend for myself. I noticed a drink table on the side of the dance floor, so I made my way over there.

I had no idea what was in the glass, but it tasted quite good. I sipped quietly off to the side when I noticed a familiar figure approach me.

“Well if it isn’t Miss Upland.”

“Please don’t call me that.”

“Alright then. Princess.”

“Y/n.” I corrected him

“Princess Y/n.”

I figured it would be pointless so I gave up trying to correct him.

“I was almost starting to think you weren’t going to show up. What made you change your mind? Me?”

“Don’t be so full of yourself Fiyero. My brother forced me to come.”

“Aww so I can’t go around telling people that you’re my date tonight?”

I nearly choked on my drink, but I managed to regain my composure.

“Not a chance.”

“What a shame and to think I was going to ask you to dance.”

“I didn’t say no to that.” I said with a teasing smile. Fiyero looked shocked and glad that I was finally playing his game.

“Since you say so, I’ll just take this.”

Fiyero grabbed the drink from my hand and downed the rest of it before setting it on the table.

“Shall we?” He extended out his hand for me to take. I didn’t say anything, but I accepted his hand and he led me to the dance floor.

He began to twirl and whirl me around to the beat of the music and I found a couple laughs slip from my mouth. I haven’t had this much fun in a long time and I couldn’t believe that Fiyero of all people was making that happen.

One by one Galinda, Ezra, and his friends joined us as well. It was great to not care about the trivial things in life and simply dance through life as Fiyero likes to put it.

At one point the band slowed down the tempo of the music to a slower one and Fiyero gave me a knowing look. I looked back at Ezra and he winked at me before walking off the dance floor with his friends. I turned back to Fiyero and grabbed his hand. He gave me a beaming smiling, put his hands on my hips and began to move me across the ballroom floor.

“You know I’ve been thinking about what you said earlier today.” He said.

“About?” But I had an inkling about what he was talking about.

“About me pretending in front of everyone else.” I simply nodded and waited for him to continue.

“I guess I started doing it in order to hide my true depth of character. It was a way for me navigate the superficial social circles and get the chance to meet powerful people. I’ve done it for so long that I forgot what it’s like to just be me, but you were the first person to ever see through that.”

I took a moment to take in his words. It must have been exhausting to keep up that facade for so long. I felt bad for Fiyero. The fact that he felt the need to live like that.

“Well like I said you don’t have to pretend with me. I want to know the real Fiyero Tigelaar. Do you think you can manage to do that?”

“I can for you.”

Under normal circumstances I would have collapsed right then and there there, but that would do either of us no good. Fiyero had just finished telling me something he’s never spoken out loud before and I have to be the support he needs.

He twirled me around once more before pulling me right back into his arms. Then he brought his mouth up to my ear and whispered changing the subject.

“You look beautiful princess. I couldn’t take my eyes off of you tonight. I must say that blue is definitely your color. You are hands down the most beautiful one here.”

“I don’t think so.” I said as I looked down at the floor bashfully.

Fiyero grabbed my chin with his finger and brought my face up to look up at him.

“I beg to differ.” He grabbed a strand of my hair and pulled it back behind my ear. I felt his breath against my ear and shivers traveled down my spine. No boy has ever gave me as much attention as Fiyero has and I was at a loss with what to do. But in a strange way I knew exactly what to do, which is why I was bold enough to try something.

“Can I tell you a secret?” I whispered in his ear.

Fiyero looked confused, but he nodded anyway. I stood up on my tiptoes and went up to his ear, but at the very last second I grabbed his face and connected his lips with mine.

At first he didn’t responded, and I got so scared I got the message wrong, so I almost pulled away. However, he soon reciprocated the kiss and placed one hand firmly on my waist and the other framing my face. The kiss started simple, but then it became more intense. I would have kept on going, but then I remembered where we were.

I pulled away and looked around to see my brother looking at me with a knowing look as if he was saying I told you so. He mouthed, “And you said there was nothing else to it.”

“Shut up.” I mouthed back.

“Do you want to take this somewhere else? Away from the public eye.” Fiyero asked.

I looked up at his blue eyes and thought about being alone with Fiyero. Being able to hold him and kiss him to my hearts desire. I nodded with a smile.

Fiyero smiled back and interlocked our hands. Together the both of us walked out of the Ozdust ballroom without a care in the world and we simply danced through life.

[bcacstuff]

The clock may be ticking for Outlander on TV, but the story is everlasting for bestselling author Diana Gabaldon, who writes the historical fantasy books (nine and counting!) upon which the show is based. Debuting in 1991, the first Outlander novel has spawned several sequels, spinoff novellas, and ultimately the intense Starz drama that viewers have come to love. With the final episodes on the horizon and new prequel series Blood of My Blood forthcoming, Gabaldon reflects on the show’s end and offers a peek inside her notebook.

What have you been happy to see so far in Season 7?

Diana Gabaldon: One of the things the Outlander production as a whole does really well is battle scenes. We’ve had a certain amount of the [American Revolution’s] Battle of Ticonderoga, the first Battle of Saratoga, and a lot of the second Battle of Saratoga. And I absolutely loved the actor playing Benedict Arnold, Rod Hallett. The casting this season has been spectacular. Every character is just right.

Would you say that Benedict Arnold was the character you were most excited for fans to meet this season?

He is historically fascinating, and I did a lot of research work on him because he plays a large part in more than one of the books. And we’ll see him again in Book 10. His story is very interesting. Everybody knows how his story ends, or at least they think they do. But yes, I was just impressed that, between the script and the actor, they pretty much nailed him and captured his sense of reckless adventure and his charm. Luckily, they used a lot of the book dialogue for it, some of which was taken from things that Benedict Arnold himself said.

With the show set to conclude with Season 8, do you have an ending in mind for Claire and Jamie’s story on the page?

Yes, I have shared the ending scenes with [the creative team]. But as to the actual way the story comes to a conclusion? No, they don’t know that. [Laughs] But we’ll get there. I don’t write in a straight line, and I don’t work with an outline. This is why it takes me several years to write one book — not only the way that I write, which I describe as like playing Tetris in my head, but also just the sheer size and the fact that they are books of a continuing nature.

You’ve shared a few excerpts from your 10th novel in the series. Is there anything else you can tease about it?

Well, I’m still writing it. And I have a title, but I’m not revealing that until we’re a bit closer to publication. I don’t want to rub all the “new” off it. I can tell you that it’s got whales.

You’ve also written Season 2’s “Vengeance Is Mine,” “Journeycake” in Season 5, and the upcoming 14th installment in Season 7. Can we anticipate more scripts from you?

Yeah, it’s so much easier than writing novels. [Laughs] It takes me three weeks tops to write a scene. I will be writing a script for the prequel [Blood of My Blood] and one for Season 8 [of Outlander].

Though only one season has been given the green light, how long do you envision the prequel’s story to be onscreen?

Well, the television version isn’t up to me, but for what it’s worth, I have material for three —  relatively short, as compared to the main Outlander novels — prequel books concerning Jamie’s parents. Blood of My Blood is based on the synopsis of the first of those books.

Apart from the ones you’ve written, are there any episodes you love so much that you wish you had?

Oh, yeah. There’s always at least one per season where I’m thinking, “Oh, this is fabulous.” It would be [Episode 8, “Turning Points”] for Season 7.

Do you have a favorite memory from your times visiting the set?

It would probably be the first season where they invited me to do a cameo [as Iona MacTavish] in Episode 4. It was fascinating being part of the set rather than visiting it. I was a cast member for three days. It was just interesting to see how it all worked.

Were you able to make it to set for Season 8?

God willing, I will be on set for a week or so next month [September 2024]. They’ll be filming the final block, for which I wrote one of the scripts, so I’d like to see a bit of it live. The last time I was on set for a prolonged period — as opposed to drop-in visits — was for Season 2’s “Vengeance Is Mine.” The food from craft services was always excellent, so I’m hoping to have a toastie, and I’m looking forward to seeing good friends.

How have the main cast’s performances surpassed what you envisioned on the page?

Sam Heughan does a fantastic job with Jamie, and Caitríona [Balfe], while she doesn’t look like the Claire of the books, certainly acts like her and is totally immersive in her character. I’ve [never] seen a bad performance by anyone at any level.

What will you miss most about the show?

I’ll miss the entertainment value of seeing dailies five nights a week, but otherwise, I’m not troubled. The end of a great adventure is always a bit traumatic and nostalgic — but it does leave you with a feeling of specialness, accomplishment, of having been part of a great endeavor. And they do live in my head, you know…

Are there more stories in this universe that you still wish to explore?

There’s always more I could write. Making the optimistic assumption that I’m going to live long enough, I have notes for [time traveler] Master Ray-Mond’s book (no title on that one yet) and for another [about Claire’s first husband, Frank], titled What Frank Knew.

Will you feel sad saying goodbye to Jamie and Claire?

I really don’t think I will — the main books are written with a lot of lacunae — spaces where we move from one block of story to another, leaving a hiatus of months (or sometimes years) in someone’s life. I can, should I want to, always go back to one of those places and write what happened while everyone was looking somewhere else.

Outlander, Season 7B, Fridays, 8/7c, Starz (Midnight on the Starz App and On Demand)

This is an excerpt from TV Guide Magazine’s Outlander: Claire & Jamie’s Love Story For The Ages issue. For a deep-dive into the historical romance, scoop on the second half of Season 7, and details on the upcoming prequel, pick up a copy of the issue available on newsstands and for order online at Outlander2024.com.

Article posted 29 November 2024

[coffeekittycatt]

Just A Taste (Sylus Fanfic)

(Part 1. This is my first piece of fanfic. Be patient with me pls 🙂‍↕️)

Mature (18+) (eh it’s not too bad.. yet lol)

—————————————————————————————

MC point of view:

7pm on the dot. Man I am so tired.. I think to myself while brushing my teeth. I dry my mouth and look forward. Slightly reddish pink eyes stare back at me. This had been my third day in a row working a 12 hour shift. I make my way out the bathroom and plop onto my soft, queen sized bed. Ahh.. finally! This might be the earliest bedtime for me in a while.

I lie my head down and before I know it.. I am out. No sleepy bear tea needed. Perfect slumber.

*Phone Rings* My eyes flick open. My phone.. I squint in pain of being awoken so suddenly and see my screen lit up with the name "Sylus". Oh god. What does he want? What time is it even? I reluctantly pick up the device and press accept.

"Hello? Can I help you?"

S: "Excuse me? I am at your door. Care to let me in, sweetie?"

"Sylus, why are you at my door? Is it not the middle of the night?"

S: "It's 9pm. Is my little kitten losing track of time?"

"First off, I am not your "kitten." Second, I was taking a nap so I only have half a brain cell working at the moment. But besides that, you still haven't answered my question."

S: "You told me I could drop off Mephisto so you could take care of him while I am gone on my business trip next week. This is usually the time I am up so I didn't see a problem. "

Ah shit, I forgot I promised him.. The one thing I actually said I would do for this obnoxious man.

"Right. Okay Sylus, I will be right there."

I roll my eyes. It's not that I hate Sylus or anything.. I just am wary towards him. He is cocky, a smartass, and to be frank.. I just don't know him well enough. I will say, he is very handsome. But that means nothing to me if he can't be trusted. I am just doing him this solid because, well.. I love Mephisto! I am an animal lover. Plus, if I can get Sylus to trust me, I can get some useful information regarding Onychinus.

I quickly switch from my oversized tee and shorts to a cute lounge set. A light lavender color sits pretty and hugs my body. The material is soft and thin. I spray some vanilla scented perfume on my neck and glide my favorite lip oil on. Why am I getting all dolled up?

I pause to ponder about the sudden question. Well.. why was I? Why should I care about what he thinks? Sure, he is attractive but.. Ugh. Need to hurry. No time for thinking. I shake my head and make my way to the entrance.

A pair of crimson eyes meet mine as I open my apartment door. "Well hello", he says softly. I slightly tense up as I see his eyes wander downwards, reading my body. I smile inside, feeling a small victory. Okay, maybe I secretly desired his eyes on me, at least to admire my outfit. I try to be collected with my exterior. A moment passes and I decide he has stared long enough. "Coming inside, or did you come just to admire the doorway?" I ask teasingly. He scoffs playfully and walks inside my apartment.

My living room was small but cozy. The couch was big enough for me to sleep on and lounge around on days where I couldn't be bothered to do anything else. I had plenty of throw blankets ready and dim lights that gave the room a warm glow. Sylus sets Mephisto’s cage on the coffee table gently. I find a fall-scented candle I want to use and I grab my trusty lighter. As I get ready to light the flame, I see Sylus taking his leather jacket off. I steal a quick peek at his arms. He was a big guy. Standing at 6'2, his presence alone towered me. His arms.. My oh my. Toned.. Strong. His hands smooth and well kept, but durable. He can probably lift me onto his shoulders with no prob- "(y/n)?", Sylus suddenly says, breaking the glorious trance my mind had engulfed itself onto his body. "(y/n) are you going to light that candle? Or am I distracting you?" He asks with a smirk. I feel my cheeks warm up, and a ping of annoyance heats me. Why did I let myself get caught gawking? Shaking off my embarrassment, I light the candle and meet Sylus at the couch. "Would you like anything to drink? Water? Tea?", I ask. I am a nice host after all, even to annoyingly hot men. "How nice of you to offer sweetie, but no thanks." He says. I nod in response and have a seat alongside him, keeping quite a bit of space between us.

Sylus sits back on the couch. Confident and relaxed. He is wearing a somewhat loose. white button up shirt. A closer look reveals expensive, soft fabric that must’ve been handmade. His wardrobe cannot be cheap. A mist of clean smelling soap pings my nose. Wow, he smells amazing. I suddenly feel my stomach turn in a way that makes my skin feel flushed. Does he know how deadly handsome he is? I notice his hair is quite messy as well, not in the usual parted and neatly styled way, but his bangs laid tousled on his forehead instead. He must’ve showered right before coming.

Interesting.

"So.. Mephisto. How long will I be watching after him?" I ask as I peek down at the medium-sized metal cage Mephisto sits peacefully in. His eyes are closed and he seems to be sleepy. How cute!

S: "Not too long. I will be away for about 4 days on my trip so it shouldn't be too bad. He is not a high maintenance crow by any means. I brought his special food and the serving instructions are labeled on the back. "

"Great! Should be no issue then."

The room falls quiet for a moment. Sylus looks down, almost seems to be lost in thought for a second.

My face changes to a somewhat confused look. Why is he so lost in thought?

"Well.. if that's all you need from me.." I say, trying to close this awkward gap in our conversation.

Sylus looks up at me for a few seconds without saying anything.

"What? Something on my face?" I ask somewhat nervously.

S: "You are quite beautiful."

"I-"

My face feels flushed. Oh no. Did he actually just say that? What is he playing at? I am so confused.

S: "Aw, am I making you blush? Kitten, do you enjoy receiving compliments?"

I don't know whether to feel turned on or offended. Maybe both. Who does this guy think he is? He is rude one day.. obnoxious another.. now he is calling me beautiful? And calling me kitten?

" Why do you call me that?" I say, taking a sip of water. Praying my face will stop flashing red.

Sylus slightly changes his seating position, his legs spread out as he sits back further on his side of the couch. "Would like a different name?”, he questions with a hint of amusement displayed on his face.

"Like what? Is my first name not enough?"

S: "I prefer names that describe exactly what you are."

"And what am I?" I ask boldly.

Sylus chuckles at my snappy attitude. "A feisty kitten who tries to deny her feelings for me,” he replies.

I laugh in surprise and am somewhat shocked at how ridiculous this conversation has turned.

"W-What? What makes you come to that conclusion? " I ask while closing my eyes. My cheeks aren’t calming down, and I am getting annoyed at how this man is triggering me so easily.

S: "I see the way you look at me, dollface. The way you sneak peeks at me when you think I don't notice. How your thighs rub together when I inch near you on this couch." He smirks.

I stay quiet. He’s right. And I hate him for that. My body instinctively wants him. I feel a warm ping of adrenaline in my core and down lower, a wetness makes its presence known.

"So?" I state quietly, gazing at him with an unsureness.

He inched closer to me and slowly rose his hand to my cheek. I gasped, my body paralyzed by nerves and butterflies making laps in my tummy. We locked eyes and for a second, I thought, I would do anything for this man. Why, why, why? I shouldn't feel this way. Is he just that physically attractive? Am I just really horny? I didn't have time to contemplate. Sylus was already inches near my face.

S: "Say you don't want this."

From here, I can feel his minty breath against my face. Ugh he smelled delicious. Sweet, expensive cologne radiating off his clothes and into the air. My lower lady parts pinged with heat and throbbed in desire. Just his presence alone turned me on.. But he could never know that. This is wrong.

"I-I don't want this…" I say while looking down.

S: "Liar." His gentle hand on my right cheek turned into a cuff, holding against my chin. He made my head look up at him. My eyes widen a bit at the sudden boldness of his touch.

S: "Now kitten, you can sit here and try to play with me.. but I don't buy it."

I look away. He is right. I am lying. But is this a good idea? I don't even know this man's intentions. Can I trust him? All I know is my body yearns for him.

S: "Look at you.. blushing. Like a little schoolgirl. Not so great at playing poker face, kitten." He smirks and lets my face go.

He quickly leans in closer and is now centimeters from my face. He looks into my eyes and traces down to my lips.

S: "Just a taste? Don't make me beg now, sweetie."

I lose my breath at his demanding comment and notice my underwear is soaked. His voice.. his eyes. At this point.. I can't fight the urge anymore.

I give a bashful nod and bite my lower lip.

Sylus leans in and his mouth meets mine. His lips were like honey, making me sugar wasted. Sweet and surprisingly gentle kisses from a bold and confident man. It was almost like he was teasing me, only giving me 50% of his energy. Each kiss was a half-written love letter crafted just for me and left me wanting my complete ending. He gently tugged at my lip with his teeth and his long tongue danced with mine, giving me just enough to keep me drunk. He held my warm face and the back of head, taking control but never overwhelming me. I wanted more. This felt too good.

I quietly moaned in his mouth, hoping he would get the hint to take things further. He grazed my hair with his right hand and gathered some in his palm. He pulled the bit that he had gently, making me gasp and our lips broke free. The slight tug felt so good. Any bit of touch from him was making me melt.

S: "Not so fast kitten, I only said a taste."

"Why?" I ask, demanding to know.

He smirks and satisfaction radiates across his face. "Ah, my naughty kitten likes what she tastes. How cute. Unfortunately, I don't go any further than that. Unless we are dating."

I am puzzled by his comment. Is he asking me out right now? He is kind of putting me on the spot. Am I assuming correctly?

"Is this your unique way of asking me on a date?" I questioned, afraid of his answer. Part of me hopes he will randomly say he does in fact want me. My mind is no longer rational.

S: "And if it is? What is your answer, sweetie? Yes? No? Maybe so?"

-Part 2 to be continued-

[emo-trash101]

HELLO HELLO HELLO ONYX‼️‼️‼️

I SAW THAT YOU'RE BACK

I MISSED YOU SO MUCH OMG.

(and your writing but you're more important <3)

ALSO WITH ARCANE??? YOU FEED ME.

So yeah,you guessed it,Arcane asking time‼️

May I have Salo (He's my baby girl I love him he's my favorite LOOK AT MY WIFE HE'S SO PRETTY.),Silco,Singed,Vander,Ambessa,Mel,Jayce and Viktor (feel free to remove or change some of them,I just love giving people a wide range of characters to choose from!! I just want Salo the most ajgehhw) with a CHILD!reader (haha platonic asker is back >:3) that they basically adopted from Zaun with a weird condition that makes them need to breathe through a filtering mask? Because they can't breathe normal air and has to get a certain gas in their lungs otherwise they aren't okay? Imagine it breaking after they get in a fight with someone or fall and they all just panic...

So basically gas mask baby. Just a little silly guy.

So yeah!! I really hope you enjoy writing this prompt,my dear friend!!!

Don't forget to eat,drink and take breaks as always!!

Always stay proud!!

Your mutual and friend,

-Nina <33

OMG IK IM SO EXCITED TO BE BACK! ALSO HAPPY THANKSGIVING IF ITS THIS TIME OF YEAR FOR YOU :))

Salo, Vander, Jayce and Victor x Asthmatic! Child

Platonic

Pronouns: Second person

Tw: illness, potential child endangerment (It's arcane so ERM, what else do you expect) Also potential spoilers

Salo -

- I think he was like most people from piltover and was like "UHM, what is this dirty little dirt baby doing near me why are they coughing are they diseased?"

- I think the beginning of him taking you in would be like, he decides you probably shouldn't be in the road coughing and essentially on the verge of perishment.

- So he takes you to the nearest doctors office and is like fully prepared to just, disappear.

- That was until the doctor looks at him and says "Oh, councilor Salo, I didn't know you had a child?"

- After that he just, accepted his fate as a father.

- At first I don't think he would be that warm and comforting, but it's just generally an adjustment period.

- He learns to take care of you through long amounts of trial and error, and eventually you both form a decent connection.

- It wasn't exactly father and child, but more so friendly roommates

- That was until you finally got your diagnosis.

- Before now he was kinda just your dad in theory, sure he fed you and helped you when you cried and comforted you through long nights when you couldn't breathe but that was completely and totally just because he had to.

- But something inside of him just feels so sad for you when the doctor first straps your mask onto your face.

-After that your relationship changes for the better.

-You both seem to bond and become more close in a way that he wasn't exactly expecting.

-He becomes more vigilant about what you eat and what you're doing and making sure that you don't break your mask.

- Eventually, he feels more like your dad in a real sense, not just on metaphorical paper.

Vander (Pre ep3) -

- At first he wasn't exactly going to become fatherly figure to you.

- I mean after all he has 4 other children he has to look after and you surely have parents somewhere.

- It took one week for the powder and the others to get used to you being there, and 2 weeks for Vander to realize no one was coming for you.

- After that Vander decided that it was better to just take you under his wing and care for you.

- First thing he did after deciding that was getting into contact with the best doctor in Zaun to try and figure out why you were coughing so much.

- The next thing he did was try not to cry when they forced the mask onto you so that you could breathe.

- After that though, things went significantly well.

- You bonded more closely with Powder than anyone, mainly because of the feeling of being both the youngest and the least helpful.

- Even when they did take you on missions, you'd get out of breath, or get your mask broken.

- Vander learned very fast that he should learn how to fix it.

- But after that, everything was good, and you had a family for as long as that could last.

Jayce -

- Of most of the people in Piltover, I think he would be the one of the most inclined to help you.

- I feel like he would pretty consistently take walks out, and that's where he would find you.

- He would find you sitting against a wall coughing so hard it was sure to have been heard at least a mile away.

- He would definitely panic and try to talk to you and figure out what happened, and then realize that verbal communication is the least effective communication for him to have picked.

-So instead he picks you up and rushes you to the nearest doctors office.

- With the way that he's so panicked and treating you so kindly, the doctors just assume that he's your father.

- After the doctors explain to him what your illness is he immediately thinks of Victor.

- At first, his reason behind taking care of you was that he was just making sure you were okay before he looks for your real parents.

- But eventually, he just gets so used to you being around that he kinda just forgets that he should be looking for them, and instead just leans into the fatherly role.

- It took a lot of sleepless nights and a lot of conversations with Mel to figure out how to take care of a child and how to progress with your illness.

- And after all of it, he officially files for adoption of you.

- And he's the best dad you could ever ask for

Victor -

- Objectively, I think he would be the best out of all of them.

- He likely found you before he went to Piltover, and he took care of you almost immediately.

- He knows how it feels to be different from other kids your age, what it's like to be made just, wrong.

-He cares for you, and eventually he moves you both to Piltover.

-It was an extremely risky decision for him to have made, but it was for you to get a good doctor, and for him to get a good job.

- After you receive your mask and your diagnosis, he becomes more protective.

- He cleans your mask once a day to make sure it doesn't build up gunk and becomes more dangerous to your lungs.

- He also becomes more vigilant on what you're doing and if that can cause your mask to break.

- After he eventually receives his diagnosis, he decides that after his time is up that he's going to give you to Jayce.

- But before that time comes, he's gonna love you like you're his own.

UHM I feel like these got aggressively more depressing but it's probably fine, I hope you enjoyed this one Nina!

Make sure to drink water and eat food :)

[covenofagatha]

taking requests, angel? if so...

I saw some Kathryn gifs and an idea came to me: Agatha, after a long and exhausted working week, asks female reader to have a date, but the date is on their house because Agatha is too tired to go out. Reader is happy, tho, because her love language is quality time and physical contact. Something like a dinner, maybe, idk... so they end up having a very lovely time together, cuddling on the sofa until they fall asleep. Smut or not in the end, it's up to you... but I'd love to read something cute from you:( I don't know if that's okay...

if you're not taking requests, I totally understand that! I don't want to bother you.

- 🌙

Fun fact, this is my first time writing something that's not meant to build up to sexy times! Also the fluffiest thing I've ever written so hopefully it's good!

Home is where the heart is

A change of plans in your date night with Agatha leads to a confession.

Word count: 1200

Warnings: fluff, softness

Still on for dinner and a movie tonight? 

It’s the text you sent your girlfriend, Agatha, an hour ago and she still hasn’t responded. This usually isn’t like her, but you know how busy work can get. And you know how tough the last week had been on her, but you were really looking forward to spending this Friday night with her. 

The two of you had been dating for three months now and it always seemed like the older woman wanted to do something, whether it be going to a nice restaurant or mini-golfing or painting pottery. Like tonight, Agatha is supposed to take you to the newest spot in town that just opened up and then you were going to see Corpse Bride as it was playing again in theaters. 

You would never complain about any of this, but you’re a little worried that Agatha thinks that you need all of this to hang out with her. 

A text from Agatha buzzes finally. Doll, I’m so sorry. You frown and pick your phone up, afraid she’s going to cancel. I’m so exhausted from work, how would you feel just coming over tonight for something chill? I can order pizza. 

You breathe a sigh of relief and type back. I would love that! See you later. You almost finish the text with a ‘Love you’ but neither of you had said it yet and you were sure as hell not going to say it over the phone for the first time. 

You also weren’t sure how Agatha felt. She was older and you weren’t exactly sure what she saw in you. She was beautiful and confident and wealthy and could have anyone she wanted, and yet she chose you. 

A part of you deep down is perturbed that this is just a fling for her. It would crush you if that’s what it was. 

But you bury that insecurity somewhere dark inside you and you get ready for date night. 

Since you’re not doing anything special, you opt for a comfy purple sweater and black leggings. You do put on lacy underwear just in case Agatha’s in the mood, but you are totally content if not. 

You just want to spend time with your girlfriend. 

You get to her house right at six, which was when you were supposed to meet anyway, and you only have to wait a second after ringing the doorbell for Agatha to appear. 

“Hey, baby,” she says, stepping to the side so you can enter. She’s wearing sweatpants and a tank top, hair loose, but she’s never looked more beautiful. You press a cheek to her kiss and she hums happily and follows you into the kitchen. “Sorry to cancel our plans at the last minute, I’m just so tired.” 

“No worries at all,” you reassure her, opening the pizza box that’s already on the counter. It’s your favorite kind and you put two pieces on a plate and grab a beer. She does the same and leads you over to the couch where you sit on opposite sides facing each other. “Everything okay?” You ask once you’re both settled. 

She sighs dramatically and her head flops back against the couch. You laugh and nudge her with your foot. 

Agatha looks back at you, mirth sparkling in her eyes. “It was just a rough week, hon. Lots of people bothering me, asking stupid questions they should know the answers to, following up on emails that they haven’t responded to. And I had to work late those couple nights.”

You frown. “I’m sorry. You work so hard and no one seems to give you the credit you deserve.” You take a bite of your pizza and chew it thoughtfully, wondering what else you can say. You know she’s been really busy and you’ve hardly seen her at all this week. 

But she leans forward and pats your thigh. “But this has certainly helped.” 

You raise an eyebrow. “The pizza and beer?” You ask innocently, fishing for more. She rolls her eyes fondly, knowing how much validation you like. 

“And the company, hon. You’re pretty great, you know?” 

You smile and squirm with contentment. “You are too, Aggie. I’m always happy to just sit on your couch and talk. I just want to spend time with you, no matter what we’re doing.” 

She smiles gratefully. “Me too, baby. Now, how has your week been?” You launch into an animated retelling of something that happened at work and she hangs onto every word. It takes you a bit longer to tell the story in-between bites of your pizza, but her attention never wavers. 

It makes you feel so warm inside how Agatha always pays attention to what you’re saying. She makes you feel so seen and you couldn’t be more lucky to have her. 

Once you’re done talking and with the pizza, she puts on an episode of Modern Family, your comfort show. You lay between her legs, your back to her front, while she gently strokes your hair. You trace lazy circles on her thighs through her sweatpants and it’s absolutely perfect. 

She tilts your head to the side and angles hers so she’s able to kiss you softly. It’s just a press of her lips against yours at first, but it slowly becomes more and your mouth parts for her tongue. 

It’s not a needy kiss though, not a kiss meant to lead to something more, it’s a kiss full of adoration and longing and intimacy. 

“You’re so perfect, baby,” Agatha murmurs against your lips.

“Not as perfect as you,” you say back and you can feel her smile against your skin. 

She lets you go back to the show and wraps her arms around you. You can feel her deep breathing and you feel so safe and warm that you start to doze off. 

Right before sleep takes you though, you feel her nuzzle your temple and whisper into your ear: “I love you, baby.” 

Your heart leaps and you suddenly feel more awake than ever. You whirl around so fast that you almost fall off the couch. Agatha’s eyes are wide and you think you see fear in them. 

“Did you just–” You start. 

At the same time, Agatha says, “I’m so sorry–”

You both cut off at the same time. You smile wider than you ever have before and you move so you’re straddling her lap. You put your arms around her neck and rest your forehead against hers. 

“Agatha Harkness,” you say. Her eyebrows raise. “I love you, too.” 

She closes the distance between you and kisses you again, this time with more passion. You whine and try to pull her as close as you can, needing to feel her body against yours as much as you can. 

“Say it again,” she says and you smirk. 

“I-” You kiss her. “Love.” Another kiss. “You.” She grins and gives you a long kiss and it eventually sizzles out and the two of you are just holding each other, your chin on top of her shoulder. 

“I’m so glad I cancelled our other date,” Agatha muses and you chuckle, squeezing her tighter. “Stay here with me forever, love?” 

You promise that you will. 

And when you both wake up in the morning in that same position, she tells you that she loves you again.

You hope she never stops saying it, because you know that you never will.

[csainzsgirly]

I came across this on Twitter and just need a bit of Carlos fluff 😪 Maybe the reader comforting him after this? https://x.com/sextappen/status/1862475685970784505?s=46&t=p5sYAMSk8Ik3q_9U0csk7Q

fyi: i chose the middle pic randomly, idc about isa/rebecca, just thought the pic was cute (: Also, I don't know the details of this whole thing, so just enjoy the fluff x

synopsis: carlos just finding out his contract at ferrari is not renewed and his life briefly collapses (x)

One of your hands is supporting your head while your other is holding a book. You're curled up under a blanket on the sofa, a couple of vanilla candles lit up on the table, cozy lightning on. Carlos had told you a couple of hours ago he was driving his Ferrari back to Monaco instead of staying the night in Milan, which surprised you, as he normally took a hotel when he had a late afternoon meeting at the headquarters of his team, but apparently not today. The smell of chocolate chip cookies was still filling the kitchen, warmth blossoming in your chest at the thought that your boyfriend would be home again soon. It was January, and as Carlos picked up his training for the new season again, you would soon be home alone when he travels to Portugal for training camp. For Monaco terms, it was rather chilly outside, the Christmas weather lingering, which you loved. Partly because Carlos would always leave one or two of his hoodies for you.

They were your favorite. They smelled like him, they were so warm and cozy, getting you through the weeks he would be away. You heard the faint ding of the elevator at the end of the hallway, your fingers flicking another page while his keys rinkled in the door. "Mi vida?" his voice sounded, making you place the bookmark between the pages and get up. "It's dark here," he chuckles a little, his arms wrapping around you while you bury your face in his chest. "How was it? Do you want coffee and a cookie?" you chirp, moving into the kitchen while Carlos turns on another small lamp. "No, thank you," he replied. "Sure no cookie? They're freshly baked!" Carlos heart clenched a little in his chest, but there was no way he would get a cookie down his throat. "I'll taste them tomorrow, I promise," he says, sitting down on the sofa, leaning his elbows on his knees while he moves his hands over his face.

The drive home had been so cruel to him. He had been alone with his thoughts after everything that was discussed. It had been so much. His heart sunk again at the words that he was going to be replaced at the end of the season. He thought his time with Ferrari would have no end. The red... It fitted him so perfectly. You could feel something was wrong when you walked into the living room to join him. "Baby?" you asked, your hand brushing over his cheek before you sat down next to him. "My contact is not getting renewed," Carlos spilled right away. You felt your heart stop for a second. Your hands were freezing all of a sudden. "What?" you asked. "They told me that I'll be replaced at the end of the season. This is my last season with Ferrari," Carlos continued, running his fingers through his hair, gnawing at his bottom lip after. "I don't get it," you whisper. Ferrari was... everything he wanted, everything he dreamed of.

And you knew how exciting he was after his last meeting in Maranello, when they showed him how the car was developing. He was so eager to start again, knowing that his feedback had helped to improve the car. With everything coming up, the rule change in 2026, in his dreams he was winning titles with this team. "That's exactly what I said," he chuckled in disbelief. "They managed to get Lewis Hamilton, so I guess I never stood a chance against that," Carlos said, letting himself fall back against the cushions. It was silent for a second, and you didn't manage to keep your eyes from watering. "It broke me," he softly said. "And it makes me question what I did wrong, why they told me I didn't have to worry. I'm entering the season with finding a seat being on my priority list instead of winning races." He pinches the bridge of his nose, seeing you were struggling to hold back tears.

"Don't cry, mi amor," Carlos hums, bringing you into his chest. "It'll be fine," he kisses the top of your head. "I should be telling you that," you sniffle, knowing that he won't end up without a seat, but you can sense that he's acting tougher than he feels now. "I called my dad on the way home. I didn't want to stay there any longer," Carlos says, his thumbs drying your cheeks. "Forgot to cancel my hotel," he lets out a humorless laugh. "What now?" you hum, your fingers curling into his shirt as he pulls you onto his lap. "The hunt for a new seat starts now. Anything is open," Carlos says. "I should be able to get a good seat, right?" his eyes dart over your face. "Every team boss who's not calling you tomorrow is an idiot," you said. He smiles at your attempt to cheer him up. "They're putting up a statement at the end of the month to announce Lewis and... my departure," he said. "It hurts a lot."

Your fingers lift to trace his face, finding his pouty lower lip that he can't even force into a tight-lipped smile. "I know, and I hate you're leaving for Portugal in three days, feeling like this. Did you speak to Teto on the way back?" you asked, to which he nods. "Yeah, I did," Carlos replies. "We'll get through it," he adds, taking a deep breath. You look into his deep brown eyes, caressing his face again before kissing his lips. You were about to pull back, but his arms hold you tightly against his chest, to kiss you a bit longer. "I have to confess something," Carlos speaks against your lips. "I kind of want a cookie." It makes you laugh and your heart blossom at the same time. He was always like this. In times when he was hurting the most, he was still trying his best to make others happy. "We can get the plate, milk and get under the blanket?" you suggest. "Sounds perfect," he says, kissing you once more.

Carlos lifts you up with ease to put you on the floor, moving into the bedroom to get changed into something more comfortable. You get the plate of cookies you baked from the kitchen, taking the milk and two glasses to dip the cookies in. You snuggle up under the blanket in the corner of the sofa, sinking into the cushions with the plate on your lap. Carlos reappears, dressed in a pair of sweats and a black hoodie. "I will leave this one for you, mi vida," he says, a finger under your chin angling your face up to his so he could press another delicious kiss to your lips. "The gray one is my favorite," you say, eyeing how good he looks in this hoodie too, anyway. Carlos moves your legs on his lap as he gets under the blanket with you, taking a cookie from the plate to taste it. He groans at the taste. "You said no to this earlier, can you imagine?" you tease him. He laughs, but you can't see it reaching his eyes.

"Tell me about the book you're reading," Carlos says, needing something to get his mind off things. "You're gonna be so bored," you warn, but he shakes his head. "Just tell me something." He rests his head atop of yours, fingers wrapping around yours.

[anti-anticheese]

Jac Schaeffer on Rio and Agatha

And so, once we knew it was Aubrey, it’s like, you got to be careful deploying Aubrey. She’s so powerful, their chemistry is so intense. We’re staging them as antagonists, but also ex-lovers, so they can’t just be hanging out the whole show. To maximize enjoyment and tension, you got to have that like, she’s here, she’s gone, she’s here, she’s gone. So that was very deliberate in that way.

Early in the room, we wanted to populate the show with people from Agatha’s past, because she’s had such a long life, how do we do that? And so that was one of the developments of the Jen character, is this is a person who knows Agatha in one way.

And then early on, we were like, “Well, what about an ex-partner, ex-lover, ex-spouse? What does that look like? What does that look like for Agatha, and who would that person be?” And it was so fun in the beginning, because we were like, literally, could be anyone.

I was going to say, did you have earlier ideas than Rio?

We had conversations, but it was more like, “What would Agatha be attracted to?” And the answer was power (laughs). And who would she come in contact with, who wouldn’t be afraid of her, wouldn’t hate her? Who would be attracted to Agatha? And that was the really delicious conversation.