#wall-e is helping me garden i love him

[lemonine]

was feeling kinda bleh today so i decided to play a new videogame and oh man. turns out disney dreamlight valley is the exact right mix to get me playing for HOURS. ffxiv friends know how i get when there is lots to gather and in this game the gathering never ends aaAAAAAAA

[pomefioredove]

AAAAAALLLL IIIII WAAAANNTTT FOR CHRISTMAAAAAASSSS IIIIIiisssss...

A sugar cookie #10 (help which boy is that idk) with whipped cream, sprinkles and chocolate drizzle please?

(I am SO HAPPY YOURE MAKING AN EVENT SERIOUSLY I love your blog!)

part I

order #10, sugar with whipped cream, sprinkles, chocolate drizzle

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ opening old wounds II

summary: ruggie's first love is leona's new fiance(e) tropes: royalty au, hurt/comfort, exes to lovers characters: ruggie additional info: romantic, gender neutral reader, reader is not yuu

"This isn't going to work,"

Leona rolls his eyes for the umpteenth time. "Since when are you so picky? It's not like you to reject free stuff,"

Ruggie crinkles his nose, looking down at the outfit Leona had "thrown together" for him. "Maybe to sell, but not for me... it's scratchy,"

"It's my old ceremonial robes, and it's what you're getting. Now shut your trap before you get us both in trouble,"

He sighs, dragging his feet behind Leona as he leads him through the darkened halls of the palace. The guards are quiet and imposing as ever, sharp eyes following the prince and his servant.

Ruggie is thankful when they finally make it outside, away from the prying eyes of the palace staff, but they're still the least of his worries.

"I don't like this,"

"Yeah, you've told me about a million times. But you and I aren't accomplishing anything if you keep whining,"

"Why do we have to accomplish anything, anyway! I like my job here!" Ruggie insists, his heart racing as they get closer to the gardens.

Leona gives him a wayward glance. "You really wanna be stuck here forever?"

He has nothing to say to that. Leona grunts and stops in front of a wall, covered in blooming flowers and vines. The night is mild, with a warm breeze, and the stars are out. It's the perfect time and place for a romantic rendezvous... unless you're Ruggie.

"Don't look so nervous. It's just a date. They're not gonna eat you,"

"That's not really what I'm worried about,"

Leona rolls his eyes (again) and gives Ruggie a boost over the wall. "See 'ya later. Don't screw this up,"

And then he's gone, and it's just the sky, the flowers, the soft sound of running water, Ruggie, and... you.

You look good.

Ruggie bites his lip at the thought. Why is this so hard?!

His grandma always told him that time heals, but how can he be sure of that? What if he's just tearing off the bandage and opening old wounds?

You were perfect. You were then, and you are now.

And he's... well, he's himself.

"It's you,"

Ruggie hadn't even noticed you, the way you noticed him. He'd been caught between memories (crushed between them, really).

Still, he forces himself to grin.

"Yeah. I hope you weren't expecting a prince or anything,"

You smile back. It's friendly, but cold. Enough to send a shiver through his body, anyway.

"Not really. I still recognize your handwriting, you know,"

Oh. Right. "Shishi... should have guessed,"

"You wanted to see me?"

That question, simple as it was, leaves him at a loss for words. Did he want to see you? He wasn't quite sure yet.

"...Uh, yeah. I thought you might wanna... talk,"

"About us,"

He nods. You were always good at that- reading him. Even when he didn't want to be read.

You take a seat on an ornately carved stone bench. It smells like Leona- damn it, that's why he picked this place for your date? Because he naps here?!

Ruggie sits on the grass.

"How have 'ya been? I mean- pretty good, huh? Marrying a prince and all that," he says, flicking a beetle off his shoulder. "Must be pretty exciting."

"I guess so..."

You sound kinda bummed out, he thinks. Damn curiosity...

"What's with the face? Isn't this what you always wanted?"

"I never said that,"

"You never had to,"

He crosses his arms and leans against the bench, looking anywhere but at you- the grass, the walls, the starry sky...

Ruggie didn't always believe in all that stuff about the old kings in the stars, but he did then. And he asks them, is there any way I'll get out of this with my dignity?

The silence holds until you speak again.

"It was nice,"

Ruggie smiles, if only a little. "It was, huh?"

Thoughts of hot summer mornings, when you were both younger, when Ruggie served at your palace instead of Leona's. Warmed by the sun and each other's company. His jokes, your laugh, both of your hopes and dreams becoming one.

"It was never gonna last, though,"

"You said that," you say, drawing your knees to your chest. "But how are you so sure?"

Ruggie shrugs. "Cause guys like me don't get people like you. Even if I stayed, you woulda been married off to some prince or duke or something, and I woulda been left in the dust, anyhow,"

"So that's why you left,"

He shrugs again. You furrow your brow and look at your lap, thinking, but not speaking. It goes on like this for some time.

"Don't worry," he's the first to speak. "Leona is real nice. He seems a little scary at first, but he's secretly a big softie."

You smile, again, if only a little.

"I don't want to marry the prince,"

What a thought. A million people would kill for your life, your position. To marry into a royal, stinking rich family. He almost giggles at the absurdity of it.

"And why's that?"

"Because I want you,"

Ruggie finally looks at you. Damn it. Damn your ability to read him, to know just what he's thinking.

"I still do," you say, hands in your lap. "I never stopped thinking that you'd come back, you know. When I saw you here, I..."

"Don't say that,"

You look back at him. He crosses his arms. "You can't say that to me. You're making me... you just... don't say those things,"

"But I-"

"Don't make me fall in love with you again," he says. "I'll get tossed aside no matter what. We both know that."

You stand, suddenly, and look down at him with your own arms crossed.

"Don't you dare say those things about me. I didn't ask to be born into this life as much as you didn't ask to be born into yours. I hate that you still think of me like that- like I'm some villain! Is it so hard to believe that I care about you? That you're not just some affair to me? I would call off the engagement with Leona right now. All you have to do is ask,"

Ruggie stares, wide-eyed, speechless again. There are many thoughts going through his head now, and though some are terribly corny, most are even even worse than that- they're hopeful.

"What will it take for you to trust me, Ruggie?"

He stands, slowly, meeting your gaze with his own.

"You'd really throw that all out for me?"

"Yes,"

You sound so... decisive. Affirmative. As if the answer is obvious.

Ruggie looks at his feet, if only to think, and you tilt his chin up with two fingers to bring his gaze back to the stars.

"Just say the word,"

[elenthyaolyenths]

I couldn't decide on where to begin, so thank you all by advance for your help! Please reblog so everyone can see it! The winner of this poll will become one of my top priorities during November.

↓LONG POST under the cut! I describe each WIP with pictures and I explain what I would like to do.↓

Tell me in comments/reblogs what you would like to see for these WIPs!

Num. 1: "Please", inspired by David Tennant Richard II Kiss

"Please" is the first part of a diptych. Published as a simple WIP in December 2023, it became for no apparent reason (lol) one of my most famous posts on Tumblr. I have always wanted to full-colour it, but I was feeling so much pressure about this one that I didn't dare to try. And then Time has passed...

I have changed a lot of things in my art practice. Different brushes, different lines, and so when I'll work again on "Please", I already know that I'll have to redo all the lineart - that's ok, it's one of my favorite tasks. I will improve Aziraphale's expression and draw more details on his Archangel suit. Crowley with his dark waistcoat (ngk) and his gorgeous black wings will probably stay the same, even if I'll redo all his lineart so they'll complete each other perfectly. And, of course, full-colour... Teehee.

Num. 2: "...Again." (inspired by David Tennant Richard II Kiss)

"...Again" is the second part of my "Richard II Kiss" diptych. So much potential in Aziraphale's wings, as he literaly lauches himself into Crowley's arms! And how I love the way Crowley embraces him like nothing else matters. I'll have to do all the lineart for this one, and I'm so glad about it, because I guess I have changed and improved my lineart skills these last months, and "Again" is the perfect challenge for proving it to myself.

Num. 3 "Bliss", one of my favourite Red Art Sketches! But...

Achieved on the 29 of January, 2024, "Bliss" is a Daily Challenge sketch, so time completion = less than 2 hours. I love the emotion and the movement in this one, but I have always wanted to come back to it and take my time, in order to draw a cleaner and more detailed version, probably in full-colour. The potential of Crowley's wings is phenomenal (I'm so much more skilled now about drawing wings), and his expression is wonderful. Maybe I'll change a little bit the lineart so we could see Aziraphale's embrace on Crowley - tenderness and passion all the way, always.

Num. 4 "Falling Starmaker" - "If Only I could have been there for you"

"Aziraphale saw the Starmaker's Fall, but didn't (couldn't) intervene. 6 thousand years later, he still regrets. He should have been there for him."

I dearly love this headcanon about Aziraphale, and I like to imagine that he would still dream about saving the Starmaker from his Fall. Not because he prefers Crowley as an angel (Damn, NO), but because he learnt to know Crowley throught the ages. And since he saw how much Crowley has suffered, after 6000 years, Aziraphale would do anything for relieving Crowley of thepast and the pain.

The lineart here is quite ok but needs to be redone so it would be more appropriate for a full-colour rendering. I really want to work on highlights and rendering effects for this one, so the movement of the Fall would be preserved. And I'll work on details like burnt feathers, Crowley's hair and Aziraphale's saddened eye.

Num. 5: "Eden" or "Take me back to Eden"

Since my first reading of "Anatomy 1.0.1", a Rating E fanfiction written by Fyre, I have a thing for them already together in the Garden of Eden. So of course, a kiss on the wall (again), but with their wings apparent this time!!!

I gave up this one in April after trying to full-colour it (that was... hideous.) Now that I have a better idea of how to handle full-colour, I need to come back to it. This one will be a peaceful, innocent fluffy scene. With Crowley's proud wings casting a soft shadow on them, probably, and his gorgeous hair flowing like fire and gold over Aziraphale. A lazy and tender moment in the Garden of Eden, when everything seemed simpler...

Ooooouf you did it! You know everything! So, which one you prefer? What would you want to see in it when it's achieved? Reblog/comment and tell me everything, I'm curious!!!

Thanks to you all, love you!!!

Linktree - Tumblr Masterpost

♥ Tag-List below (tell me if you want to be in or out)♥

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[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Hello there, may I request how Yandere Malleus, Idia, Leona, Jamil, Silver, and Vil would react to a darling who’s personality and mannerisms are like Wall-E?

Wall-E Reader | Yandere Twisted Wonderland

Your actions speak loudest because you don’t say anything other than your name. You’re just as cute as ever and you have a thing for trash so being Crowley’s unpaid lackey is a perfect job for you. They might suspect that you may not be entirely human…you shouldn’t be as excited about the garden as you are and how did you get all the trash to be in a compact cube…? Nonetheless, you’ve captured their hearts or at the very least their trash:

Malleus Draconia 

“You’re collection is astounding…these trinkets are quite curious. Would you like to see my own?”

He relates to your sentiment of maintaining a horde

But it seems you like more than just shiny things

And he bristles when you’re accepting menial things from others

Especially when you’re avidly refusing his own contributions

“What? What’s the matter? This jewel seems worthy enough to join it. What? No? Why not?”

He’s perplexed by your little busybody nitpicking 

Only satisfied when he concludes that you are what he wants in his own horde 

“I’ve made an astounding revelation! You are what I’ve been missing in my own collection. Do not fret I will willingly be inducted in your own as well.”

Idia Shroud 

“Ewww touching grass?! Pft try the eternal joy of gacha games.”

He begrudgingly idolizes you 

For the earth loving trash conscious you 

He plans to corrupt you

Or at the very least upgrade you to enjoy the finer things in life

“What’s better than trash collecting? Hehehe try this~! No! No! That’s not trash!”

It seems he has a lot to teach you

But he can’t let those normies get a hold of you before him

“Whoa whoa, social butterflies you already get to have everyone’s attention just let me have them this once.”

Leona Kingscholar 

“Only an herbivore like you would want this. Here. Take it or I’m throwing it away.”

He doesn’t know what you find so attractive about trash

Throwing it away or keeping the pieces you like

But he can’t help but love the way you’re eye sparkle when you get what you want

Suddenly he’s looking at little things a lot longer

Should anyone stop you or him he’s not leaving them unharmed

“Don’t bother their stuff…Otherwise, I’m hunting you.”

Jamil Viper

“Y-you are so strange…but you’re so cute.”

He’s enamored with your simple trashy tastes

But he can’t complain because it's you

He does have to quickly stop you when he casually calls things trash

He just wished your cubing policy works the same way with annoying nuisances

It’s alright 

He’ll do it himself

“Now you, tell me where you put that lighter…or it’ll be the last thing you throw away.”

Silver 

“Here (Y/n), I brought you something for your collection. Does it fit?”

He’s oddly amazing at finding what’s perfect for your collection

He could sit and watch you all-day

Continuing to feed your collection

He honestly debates spilling trash so that you can make more trash-cubes

He likes it when you do that

Gets a little too defensive when someone wants to help you pick up trash

Pulling his coat back, hand on the hilt of his dagger

“I ask that you give (Y/n) some space…I know its selfish but they look cute doing this.”

Vil Schoenheit 

“Eugh!? I’d rather you keep your trash+ collectibles out of your fashion set.”

He really hates that his darling dumpster dives

That's how he sees it

You need correcting and he’d be the one to do it

Or at the very least let you keep the beautiful collectibles

“Come darling, I will not let you tarnish your own beauty for such a hobby.”

[moonlit-stay]

Kinktober 2024 ▪ Day 1

▪ Pairing: Bang Chan x Female Reader

▪ Kink: Cock Warming

▪ Genre: Fluff and Smut

▪ Word Count: 1.6k

▪ Warnings: Soft!Dom Chan, Sub!Fem Reader, established relationship, fingering (f. receiving), creampie, cock warming

▪ Other Warnings: mentions and consumption of food

▪ Please let me know if I missed anything

Color(s) Of This Fic: Black, Cream, and Mauve <3

If you are under the age of 18, please do not interact with this fic. This fic contains inappropriate content and is strictly 18+

Everything in not only this event, but all of my work in general is consensual. Even if not stated within the work.

Enjoy :)

You're stood quietly in your kitchen, only the soft sound of your playlist to accompany your thoughts as your lower back rests against the edge of the countertop.

You take slow bites of your freshly made dinner as you blankly stare out your window. The plate is warm against the palm of your hand, and you spare a second to appreciate the feeling before you return your gaze to the kitchen window that rests above the dining table.

The sun was beginning to set, and it wouldn't be long before the outside world grew dark. You watch as your dainty garden lights all turn on at the same time, illuminating your backyard before it even gets the chance to fall into darkness, and it reminds you that you should turn on some lights inside before your home also becomes dark.

You lightly sigh as you look over the surface of your dining table, a space that should be occupied by yourself and Chan at least every night, empty and covered in a thin layer of dust from lack of use. It makes you feel better to eat standing as you are now as opposed to sitting at the cold table alone, it feels less lonely this way you think, but even then, you can't help but feel Chan's absence.

You take another bite of your food, walking further into your kitchen and glancing at the remaining food still hot on the stove. You involuntarily smile at the thought of all the nights you and Chan shared in this space, so much love and laughter within the four walls, and you lightly chuckle at the memories.

There's a quiet click at your front door, so quiet you almost miss it entirely, and you hurriedly set your plate down before making a beeline for the door. Chan lets the door swing open right as you reach it, and he's quick to catch you when you lurch at his broad frame.

"Hi, baby. Schedules ended early today." He softly whispers out to you, his arms holding you securely against him when he feels you tighten your grip around him. "I missed you."

"I missed you, too. I always miss you." Your voice matches his pitch as you answer him honestly, and you can feel his smile against the skin of your shoulder before he presses a feather-light kiss to the spot.

You two stand in the doorway for just a moment longer, Chan's lips eventually moving from your shoulder up to press a soft kiss to your lips.

"Come in, I made dinner." You mumble against his lips, and he smiles at your words before leaning in to kiss you again.

Chan reconnects your lips as he carefully walks you both into the house. He closes the door behind him, dropping his bag to the floor and kicking his shoes off as you lock the door.

"Smells amazing, baby." He compliments as he pulls away from you, taking your hand in his and walking into the kitchen.

"Thank you!" You beam as you watch him grab a plate and join you at the table.

You always make enough food for both you and Chan, that way he always has something to eat when he gets home late, or something to take for lunch the next day. It's very rare he ever gets the chance to enjoy his dinner with you, and he can't help the smile that pulls at his features when he looks at you enjoying the rest of your dinner across the table from him.

You both quietly eat your meals, that same peaceful atmosphere from earlier settling into the space once again, and before you know it, you and Chan are working together to clean up the kitchen as you tell each other about your days.

Once the kitchen is clean, you gently grab Chan's hand, intertwining your fingers with his as you lead him to your shared room.

"It's been so long since we last had the chance to do our night routines together." You inform him, hearing him hum in response as he lets you lead him into the bathroom.

Over the past couple of months, you've gotten used to going through this part of your night by yourself. Slowly following through each of the steps of your night routine one by one as the desperate need to sleep crawls into each of your limbs until your head hits your pillow. Usually, you've been asleep for a number of hours by the time Chan gets home, and he quietly gets ready to sleep before crawling in bed next to you, passing out almost immediately.

Even though each of your routines remain the same, you both enjoy not only getting ready for bed together, but also being able to go to sleep at the same time. These actions are domestic, in a space of comfort and love, and it makes both your hearts feel full.

"Barely have time for us anymore." Chan mumbles out as he pulls you closer to him, his hands coming to rest on your hips as his lips find your shoulder again.

"I know, but we have time now." You answer, readjusting the blankets around you both as you relax against him.

"C'mere, wanna see your pretty face." He gently tells you, feeling you roll over until you're facing him.

"Better?" You ask with a shy smile, feeling his hands find your waist as he pulls you impossibly closer.

"Better." He replies, mirroring your smile.

You throw one of your legs over Chan's waist, and he's quick to rest a hand just above the bend of your knee to keep you there.

He's gazing into your eyes, and just as you're about to break eye contact, he leans in to kiss you once again. The kiss is just as soft as it was earlier, but it's now laced with need.

You can tell he wants to deepen the kiss by the way his hand grips at your waist, and you whine into the kiss when he moves his hand to your lower back, pushing your lower half forward until it's flush against his.

"C-Channie-" you stutter out, feeling his length grow harder against your core. "M'so tired, baby."

"I know, baby, me too." He breathes out as he rolls his hips into yours. "I just need to feel you, baby, please."

You let out another whine at his words, rolling your hips to meet his.

"Okay, Channie." Your voice is quiet and shaky when you answer him, and it makes his length throb against the fabric of his briefs.

He reluctantly moves your leg that's resting over his waist back to its original position, just long enough for him to rid himself of his briefs and pull your thong off in one swift movement, throwing them both somewhere in the room before he has your leg thrown over his waist again.

He snakes his hand between your thighs, his pointer and middle fingers sliding through your folds before they prod at your entrance.

"You're so wet, baby." He groans out, his head falling to your shoulder as he slips his fingers into your heat. "Would be so easy for me to slide inside you right now."

"Please!" You moan out, his fingers working you open as your arousal pools in the palm of his hand.

"Not yet, baby. Gotta make you cum first."

He hurriedly pumps his digits into your heat, curling them to hit that spot inside you that has your jaw going slack and your moans raising in pitch as he presses the heel of his palm against your clit. You can't help but roll your hips against his palm as your orgasm approaches, and your thighs shake as the knot in the pit of your stomach comes dangerously close to unraveling.

"C'mon, baby, you can do it." He softly encourages, feeling your walls repeatedly clamp down around his digits before you cum around them with a loud moan of his name. "There you go, baby, good girl."

He slowly drags his digits along your plush walls until you jolt and push his hand away from your heat, and once you do, he wraps his arms around you and pulls you back towards him.

"Fuck." He sighs out, gripping the base of his cock and quickly pushing it past your entrance with a moan.

You're still shaking in his hold, barely having come down from your high as you thrash against him at the sensitivity.

"I know, baby, I'm sorry." He apologizes, pushing into you until you're taking every inch of him.

The second he completely bottoms out inside you and feels you clench around him; he's holding you still on his cock as he cums inside you. You both moan in unison, feeling his warmth coat your walls as he shallowly thrusts into you a few times before burying himself inside you as deep as he can.

"F-Fuck." He stutters out, feeling you nuzzle into him as you pant against each other.

You both lay in silence as you come down from your highs, your breathing eventually evening out and your heart rates growing steady. You melt further into Chan's embrace, and he welcomes the contact as you both fight off sleep.

"You gonna keep all of me inside you?" His words are slurred with exhaustion and barely above a whisper, but you understand him nonetheless as you nod against his chest.

With that, you both finally let sleep consume you. Content, still connected, and clung to each other in this quiet little place the two of you call home.

Main Masterlist

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

▪ Author's Note

Hello, hello !

Thank you for reading the first day of this event. I hope you'll tune in to everything else I have planned for this month👀👀

▪ Taglist

@kpophubb @whatudowhennooneseesyou @skzgallll

Send me a DM or ask to be added to the taglist

▪ Extras

©2021 - 2024 all rights are reserved to Moonlit-Stay. Stealing, reposting, copying, translating, plagiarizing, and modifying any and all of my work is strictly prohibited.

Released: October 1st, 2024

Reblogs are greatly appreciated !

[guess-my-next-obsession]

The Ranch

pairing: no outbreak au!joel miller x f!reader (Elementary-verse)

rating: E (18+ only, one brief mention of shower sex, outdoor sex, fingering, slight dirty talk, soft sex, riding, unprotected piv, creampie city limits, your kid sorta catches you but not rly at all and also they’re too young to know anything so we’re all gucci)

wc: 1.3k

a/n: been going through it and needed something soft and familiar to ease my way back into writing. hope you enjoy!

series masterlist | joel masterlist

It was an easy morning on the ranch, the storm clouds that passed over last night, shaking the newly built frame so hard it woke the kids up and had them crawling into your bed. Summer had just begun, bringing life to the scene around him; the birds chirped their morning song, the crickets talked back and forth, the bees buzzed over by the wildflowers.

You had just woken up, your six and two year old children tucked into the middle of the bed still asleep. Slow and carefully, you climbed out from beneath the duvet and stretched your arms out with a yawn. Scratching your head, you walked over to the bathroom to relieve yourself and freshen up before setting out to find your husband.

Joel sat strumming his guitar lazily on the porch swing overlooking the garden when you found him, the sight causing your heart to flutter. The golden, early morning light made him glow like something holy, though the ache in your thighs from the night before—his hips snapping into yours in the shower right before bed—reminded you he was anything but.

“Hey, handsome,” you called softly, not wanting to disturb his peace too much as you walked across the wooden planks of the wrap-around porch he built with his hands. Joel turned his head in your direction and smiled, his eyes soft with adoration as he took in your natural state, your nightgown still on.

“I’m the luckiest man on the face of this earth,” he drawled, now beaming up at you as you stood in front of him, carefully lifting the guitar out of his lap so you could straddle his thighs. Joel’s hands helped slide the hem of your dress up as you got comfortable, crossing your arms behind his neck and leaning in to press a kiss to his bearded cheek.

“Good morning,” you said, pulling back to give him a soft smile.

“Good mornin’ indeed,” he returned, his hands sliding up and down your thighs, squeezing when he reached the top of them. You bit your lip and gave him a cheeky smile as you leaned forward, your lips pressed into soft and slow against his until you got into a rhythm with it. Your hips began to rock just as slow against him, forcing his hands up beneath your dress to palm the globes of your ass with a tight squeeze. “Kids asleep?”

“Mmhm,” you hummed, eyes already fluttering shut from the way your clit was grinding against the length of his slowly hardening cock beneath his pajama pants. “Want you, baby.”

“Yeah?” he asked, almost teasing, almost desperate. You nodded, leaning in to kiss him again. “Take me out, baby.”

You wasted no time in scooting back so that you could pull him out through the opening in the front of his pajamas, his cock jumping at the feeling of your fist wrapped around it. Joel groaned, lifting two of his fingers to his tongue to wet them before lowering it to your clit, rubbing circles into it until you were moaning for him too.

“God, I love you,” he said, shaking his head as he watched you roll your hips to take his fingers deeper while you continued working his cock until a bead of precum dribbled from the tip. “Sit on it, baby. Let me feel it.”

You nodded, just as eager to feel him stretch you open, and shuffled forward, lifting your hips up before slowly sinking down on. Joel shivered at the tight, wet squeeze of your walls, his hands gripping the fabric of your nightgown as it bunched up at your hips, guiding you into a slow rock against him.

“Fuck,” you sighed, letting your eyes close as you found the perfect rhythm to scratch the itch deep inside. Your arms hugged the width of his broad shoulders, holding him close as you moved against him, his feet planted firmly on the ground forcing the swing to remain still. “You were so good with the kids last night,” you breathed into his ear. “Love watching you be a dad.”

“Love watchin’ you be a mom,” he replied, husky and low, his face buried in your neck. “Goddamn, baby. So fuckin’ tight.”

“Even after having your ten pound son,” you said, making him chuckle before cutting him off with a tug to his hair, his laughter turning into a moan as you pulled his head back to draw his eyes to yours. “Love you so much.”

Joel’s brows furrowed with a mixture of pleasure and deep affection, his bowed lips parting in a soft “o” as you moved to plant your feet against the soft cushion of the swing instead of your knees.

“Jesus,” he groaned, his head falling back against the back of the swing. “Baby, I’m so close.”

“Touch me,” you begged, breathy and focused on your pleasure. Joel obliged eagerly, licking the pad of his thumb before lowering it to your clit and rubbing pressured circles into it that had you leaking around him. “Fuck,” you whined, feeling the burn in your thighs fade away as your climax dawned. “Joel—“

“Come on,” he urged, using his free hand to pinch your nipple from over the thin cotton of your nightgown. “Let me have it, baby.”

“W-with me,” you managed, bouncing so hard on his cock you worried the swing might break. “Cum with me.”

Joel nodded, his neck and cheeks turning red as he reached his breaking point at the same time as you. Your walls squeezed him as you came, your mouth falling open in a silent cry as you felt him twitch inside of you, his moans and wrecked expression drawing out your high longer than you were used to.

“God,” you sighed, laughing at the fast pace of your heart as you lowered yourself onto your thighs to give your leg a break. Joel’s heart was pounding just as hard as he pulled you in, letting your face rest in the crook of his neck as he held you close, his hands stroking up and down your spine.

“What did I do to deserve all that?” he asked after a few beats of peaceful silence.

“I told you,” you said, lifting your head to smile at him. “You stayed up with the kids until they weren’t scared anymore.”

“While you got your beauty rest,” he teased, smirking at you.

“Exactly,” you smiled back, reaching a hand up to lightly scratch at his bearded jawline.

“Well, it’s payin’ off,” he said, lifting his eyes up to watch as his fingertips traced the side of your face, the sun casting a soft halo around you as you sat on his lap. “Takin’ my damn breath away lookin’ like this.”

“You should see yourself,” you said.

“Mama?” The sound of your six year old pulled both of your eyes away from each other to look at her as she stood down the porch, her teddy bear tucked under her arm. “I’m hungry.”

“Okay, baby,” you replied, now extra aware of the fact that Joel was still inside you. “Go inside, we’ll be in there in a second.”

“Okay,” she said, turning to stumble back into the house. Once she was gone, you and Joel shared a chuckle before you lifted yourself off of him slowly, the two of you hissing at the loss of contact.

“Duty calls,” you said, straightening out your nightgown before holding your hand out for him. “Come on, superdad.”

“Superdad, huh?” he grinned, tucking himself back into his pajama pants before standing, his right hand holding yours as his left carried his guitar. “I like the sound of that.”

“Oh, I bet you do.”

[sitp-recs]

omg love the water recs you shared!!! what a good idea for how to make a list. what about fics set in gardens or featuring gardening? recs from followers welcome too! thank u livvvyyyyy

I’m so happy that you enjoyed the water-centric recs. And thank you for the excellent prompt! I’ve really enjoyed these, most involve gardening and a couple feature gardens in a special way even if it’s not the focus, so I thought I’d include them too🪴

I Fall On Grass by @tackytigerfic (T, 3k)

Harry loves his garden, and he loves his sons, and he also loves— Well, he definitely feels something for Draco, who is currently distractingly topless under a pear tree. The language of flowers isn't much good when it comes to big declarations, though; Harry needs to find the words to tell Draco just exactly what he's been feeling all these years.

To the Rhythm of the Waves by @tsauergrass (G, 3k)

They found a lot of things together: the cottage, the garden, their lives, each other. Then one day, Harry finds a hammock.

In the Garden After Dark by @the-starryknight (M, 3.5k)

Unspeakables work in teams of three, but when Draco and Harry lost their third, Draco left too. Now he's back, Illusion magic stronger than ever, and Harry is less lonely in his arms.

Harry, Harry, Quite Contrary by @maesterchill (T, 4k)

It's almost Midsummer, and that can only mean one thing! Time for Upper Itchington's annual Tidy Streets contest. Draco Malfoy is supremely confident his street will retain the title. It just takes one contrary neighbour to bollocks things up: a certain Mr Harry Potter.

Garden War by @cibeewastaken (T, 5k)

Harry and Draco are quarantined in their houses, a lake across from one another. What better ways to spend this time than to annoy each other with letters and attempts to prove that their garden is better ?

This Delicious Solitude by Omi_Ohmy (M, 17k)

Draco is sent to investigate Harry’s extraordinary carrots for the Prophet after whispers of cheating rock the world of competitive vegetable cultivation. But how’s he meant to get anywhere when Harry won’t even let him past the garden gate?

A Ghost in the Garden by thistle_verse (E, 27k)

Harry and Draco are thrown together on an investigation into a sinister political movement.

Orbit by HenryMercury (E, 52k)

They don't like each other. They're not friends. There's not even a ceasefire of any sort because they're fighting as much as ever—but there's definitely something different about it. An added layer of self-awareness they don't dare identify, but which colours every Scared, Potter? and Do your worst; each You wouldn't dare and Then prove it.

along each garden wall by @oflights (E, 61k)

Draco has to have a baby (or have one on the way) at the time of his fast-approaching 35th birthday, or he's going to lose his home to his vile cousin. Harry offers to help, but their complex past—even beyond Hogwarts—prompts Draco to set out on a long journey of friendship, kittens, gardens, motorbike rides, and more.

That Old Black Magic by bixgirl1 (E, 77k)

Centuries ago, marriage contracts were the norm — ready-made alliances between families, expected and complied with, without complaint. But norms have a way of changing, and when a long-dormant contract flares to life, Harry has to navigate an unexpected splintering of the path he'd thought would be easy after the war... with Draco Malfoy.

Wild, orphaned (E, 92k)

“No,” Harry said, by way of greeting. Malfoy’s blonde head rose slowly, carelessly. “Get out.” “I feel as though we’ve already established this, Potter,” Malfoy responded. “And I feel that what we established was that you telling me to get out of places really doesn’t make me more likely to vacate them.”

Dronarry:

Trillium by @wolfpants (E, 13k)

Harry and Draco are shagging. Ron’s got a hunch, and the only way to find out is to volunteer his services alongside Harry’s in the Big Malfoy Manor Cleanup of 2010. What could possibly go wrong?

Silhouettes by @sweet-s0rr0w (E, 17k)

Draco's trying to fix the Burrow, Ron's trying to grieve, and Harry... well, just what is Harry actually doing, anyway? A tale of grief, gardening, and ghouls, bad memories, bad puns, and bad flirting, and nudity both accidental and very, very deliberate.

[delta-pavonis]

Ficlet: O that I were a glove upon that hand

Dreamling || Human AU || Rated E || ~1100 words

(Because Tom doing Romeo at VogueWorld 2023 gave me some feelings and Ferdie is often in his Venice Preserv'd look in my head... although with longer hair.)

This has, perhaps, gone too far.

Let's back up.

Everyone in the department, most people on campus, and – because of a viral video of him going off at the director during a dress rehearsal of a Shakespeare in the Park performance of A Midsummer Night’s Dream – a damned large swath of London all know of Dr. Robert Gadling's particular and peculiar hate of the Bard. It is what makes this whole thing incredibly frustrating.

Gifts. Hob has been getting gifts. Left for him in conspicuous places, each more finely crafted and expensive than the last. And each with a goddamned Shakespearean love sonnet on it.

If it wasn't for the nature of the gifts themselves Hob would be absolutely certain someone was taking the piss. (Jo, that would probably be Jo.)

But each gift is so bloody thoughtful; carefully chosen with an uncannily tuned awareness to Hob’s personal needs and tastes. This person either really cares for him or… well, he would think the person a possible stalker except that everything they have done relates to something that has happened in public, with full easy access for many people to make a judgment that Hob likes or needs something. 

There have been six of them now. And aside from the fact that Hob’s living room wall now looks like all those movies where the authorities are frantically tracking a serial killer, complete with a map of London and lots of red sharpie, he is rather… flattered? 

It has been a long time since… well. The anniversary of Eleanor's death will be rounding on eight years this winter. 

Hob thinks he has worked out a pattern to when he gets the gifts, is like 80% confident he can guess when they have gotten placed in each location, from his university office, to the men’s dressing room at the White Horse Community Theater, to his usual table at the New Inn. Add to that his approximately 60% confidence in the reasoning behind the temporal spacing of the gifts, and he is ready to roll the dice.

He locks up his office a tick early, as usual on Thursdays, and makes all appearances to head home before going to that evening’s rehearsal. But as soon as he gets home he is donning a new hoodie no one has seen him wear before, slinking back out the garden door, over the hedge, and jogging to the theater. Hob closes himself into the darkness of the men’s dressing room a solid two hours before anyone is scheduled to be anywhere near the place. 

And he waits. 

Hob is good at waiting.

He is crouched where he will be behind the door when it opens, but this puts him immediately next to some of the accessories storage for costuming for this show. And oh, they have gotten in a new pair of leather gloves for him.

Just because he is good at waiting doesn’t mean that he never gets bored. 

Hob slips on the new gloves and works his hands in them. These will be perfect to swordfight in, fantastic.

And then the door creaks open. 

He freezes and watches, only the sliver of light coming from the hallway to help him. A masculine figure, slim, in a peacoat, walks silent as a hunting cat to the second chair from the far wall, just where Hob usually gets ready. 

A hand runs softly across the back of the chair once before a small box is left on the tabletop. Then as quietly as they came in, the person turns to leave. 

Just before they get to the open door Hob pounces.

There is a shout and a scuffle, the two men – for it is another man, of that Hob has no doubt – grappling as one tries to escape and the other hold on.

Which is how Hob ends up with his black leather-gloved hands wrapped around the pale swan neck of his longest friend. 

They haven’t seen each other in… fuck, it feels like more than a hundred years. And they had not parted on good terms. 

“Christ, Dream?” Hob pants out the nickname but does not let go. 

Diamond-sharp blue eyes that could belong only to one person stare at him from beneath heavy lids. He parts his lips to speak, but at the same time Hob shifts the grip of his hands and any words Dream was going to say get lost in a breathtakingly thready moan. 

Barely a heartbeat later they meet in the middle, Hob’s hands going to the back of Dream’s head and Dream’s arms going around his shoulders and their mouths fit together like goddamned puzzle pieces and Hob knew, he fucking knew, it would be like this. 

They knock over no less than two chairs, collapse against a wall for a minute, then one of them pushes off and they are almost going ass over tea kettle onto the couch. A bit of quick footwork on Hob’s part and they are on the opposite side of the room.

By the time Hob has Dream sitting on the vanity they have gotten their shirts off and his bare back slams into the mirror’s surface, sliding and squeaking with the thin sheen of sweat. He gets his hands under Dream’s thighs, hikes him up to grind their clothed erections together, and once Dream has his legs wrapped around Hob’s hips he brings one hand to his mouth to pull off the gloves.

An unsteady hand grabs his wrist. “Leave them on.” Dream’s voice is even lower than Hob remembers it. 

There is fumbling to get flies open and then Hob has his hand wrapped around both their cocks and is pumping. Dream’s fingers are now tugging on Hob’s hair, his body arching prettily as Hob gets his lips and tongue onto that beautiful neck.

Hob is about to be embarrassed by how quickly he is nearing completion when Dream pulls him into a kiss, moaning into his mouth as he shudders through his orgasm. 

“Come with me, Hob,” is whispered against his lips and Hob is absolutely lost to it, shouting into Dream’s collarbone.

They are still panting, large heaving breaths, when Dream tugs Hob’s hand up from where it is wrapped around their spent pricks so that he can lick the leather clean. Hob watches that pink tongue dance between his fingers and his cock almost twitches in interest. He huffs a laugh and takes Dream’s chin in his grip, pulls their mouths back together so that he can speak against them. 

“Hello, Stranger.”

[catwyk]

tsv finale spoilers below. i wrote this during my first listen through. its long as fuck. im dead im ruined.

cull calling out to rane instead of faulkner.... rane is truly the real leader now

FAULKNER......

"katabasian rane? sister thurrocks?" im gonna be sick

"hes basically a cow" spit your shit carp

"people in my life keep leavin to serve a cause i just cant understand" BASHES MY HEAD ON THE WALL

"we must love them for fleein from our touch e must not run after them" oh baby :(

this is actually fucking destroying me right now oh poor faulkner. failed by the world.

"of course i recognize you. youre carpenter's ghost" // "yes. i am" // "that must mean that im being punished. arent i?" he sounds so small and young oh my god

"if this is my punishment, then why am i smiling?" OKAY PARALLELS TO HIS VISIONS IN S2. OKAY. IM NOT GOING TO CRY. I WONT.

his monologue is ruining me actually oh god.

"they invented their own faulkner. and they forced me to be him" THATS WHAT IM SAYIN

he called her his sister...

im sure hes gonna die

"you crashed a car??" // "yeeah. i crashed a car." i love her

"they need to fix you, they need to make you better, and ill, ill watch over your bed, ill be there, carpenter. ill pray, ill pray and pray for as long as i need to" christ alive. i need to lay down RIGHT NOW.

méabh de brún too good at acting like shes in pain im abt to dial an ambulance

EM??? EM MENTION. EM MENTION

ok this is fuelling my hc that faulkner reminded carpenter of em in some painful and undefinable way

"i should tell paige that story, if i get to see heg again"

"OUR paige?" CRYING FOR A MILLION YEARS. AND HIS "HUH" AS WELL WHEN CARPENTER CONFIRMS

twin mouths truther forever

"i hate you too, faulkner, i truly do. and i love you, too. in spite of everything" // "always on the very precipice of understanding one another"

faulkner's "DEAD, DEAD, DEAD!" is fucking me up b narr the voice actor everrr

SHES GONNA LEAVE HIM A CAIRN 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

"there'll be a place for you, and itll be beside me" DRIVING STRAIGHT INTO A LAMPPOST AS WE SPEAK

NO HES GONNA TRY AND KILL HER ISNT HE

"yeah. perhaps thats it. do you?" again. coolest fucking character on the planet

"this is when the waters parted, and at last..! at last he understood!" jesus christ. jon ware the writer that you are

"say you were raised in the service of a god of fire. so you feel like the world would be a much better place if more things were on fire" i busted out laughing WHAT a tone shift

"dennis duplace helped. hayward.. dad.. carpenter.. im leaving all of you behind" i am a husk of a person. lucille valentine knocking it out of the park

"best feeling in the world, seeing you walk away" holy fucking shit this is DAMAGING ME.

i wanna write every quote thats making my heart sting but the transcript is already up so theres no real point

every single va is popping the FUCK OFF by the way. i have to keep reminding myself theyre acting so i dont like. kill myself

val saving hayward was NOT on my bingo card what the fuck

"and before she died... she remembered who she was" OHHHHHHH MYYYYY GODDDDDD

hayward doing his own rites of the cairn maiden for himself :(

no gods coming for hayward but "fuck it. this one's not... for any of you. this ones for me"

WHY IS FAULKNER BACK. NONONO ITS ONLY GONNA BE BAD. PLEASE NO

i never realized the parallel between faulkner's gardener father and his gardener god

carpenter meant so much to him :(

"Sister! I love you! Where are you going? Dont turn your back on me! Dont you dare- Sister! I need you! SISTER! SISTER! MARCO! MARCO!" FAULKNER NO NOT LIKE THIS NO NO NO NO NO NO NO

FUCK YOU JON WARE (<- COMPLIMENT)

THE FAULKNER BODY FAKEOUT. SEE ABOVE POINT

carpenter's scream...... oh god.. oh méabh de brún the woman that you are

"he could be a face from my childhood. or his" charlie.......

HES BEEN BLOND THIS ENTIRE TIME????????????? i should have fucking known

"but no matter how it starts, no matter how it turns out for us, it can end with love, cant it? it can end with love. it can end with kindness." i said oh my god out loud

the delivery of "and then i let him go" why not just drive a railroad spike through my lungs

"the river is vast, and no dam can block every channel, and ours is a world of miracles." i said jesus christ out loud

i wheezed when she just. got back up this old bitch cannot die can she

not nana glass' song............

FUCKING TAINSLEY. CHEKHOVS TAINSLEY.

oh my god. a final heartbreaking credits scene

i had to just sit and lean back for a second. what a fucking ending. what a fucking podcast. this is one of those pieces of media that takes up residence in your brain forever. im never gonna stop thinking about this

[drarryspecificrecs]

2023.05 ~ Top 7 longest fics posted on AO3

1. Demons Run (When A Good Man Goes To War) by @shewhomustnotbenamed [E, 124k]

►I need your help. Ordinarily, I wouldn't inveigle anyone into deciphering life from my contorted perspective, but I desperately need you to understand the entirety of the situation that I've found myself in. It's vital that you comprehend and embrace the events that have led me here- to have the clarity of mind that I lack because I am more lost than I have ever been, and I need saving. I need you to see. I need perspicuity. Help me, because I don't know how I got here, and I need to repair the damage I've done.

2. Symptom of Your Touch by @ghostofnoir [E, 115k]

►St. Mungo's Healer Draco Malfoy is used to being pushed to his limits when providing aide to the ailing, but when an unexpected encounter with an out of character Harry Potter throws his life out of balance one night, he is forced to ask himself how far he's willing to push his own levels of discomfort to be of aid to a man in need of help that only he can provide. And once that need for aid is over, how will he find balance in his life again?

3. Love lies somewhere deeper by DarkWizard [M, 96k]

►Harry cheated on his wife with Draco sodding Malfoy. And then, he didn't remember it.

4. we should just kiss (like real people do) by whenstheweddingcake [T, 75k, series]

►Harry's summer is better than ever before, and he returns to Hogwarts for his fifth year with more power, changing relationships, an army at his back, and another DADA teacher that seems to have it out for him.

5. the world is a garden (and you're my flower) by Rosie321go [T, 52k]

►Draco’s mother always said there was a fine line between love and hate. Apparently, his flowers think so too. /// [...] in which Draco doesn’t know how to deal with feelings, Granger doesn’t know how to help him, and Potter’s just trying to figure out what’s going on.

6. Icarus by @soupy-george [M, 50k]

►[...] 2013 (The Unpleasant Present) - Sent undercover as a Professor at Hogwarts. Note: minding my own business, life ruined by dreadful turn of events. Note: Potter is DADA professor, a job he took out of the blue after I graduated from Auror training. His departure happened to coincide with a momentary lapse in judgement when we may have kissed, drunkenly … (and heatedly) against a wall. One time. Awkward? Yes. Reason to abandon whole career? Apparently.

7. Imperius by @jelliewrites [E, 46k]

►What if there was an eighth horcrux? What if Voldemort just wouldn't die? Draco Malfoy doesn't remember what came before his current existence, where he lives to serve the Death Eaters who control his every move, and through him, his magical inheritance. But when a memory from his past appears in his present, breaking the curse that imprisons him, he finds that he may be the one who holds the key to salvation. If only he isn't too broken to use it.

—

※ Word count: 1k ~ 10k

※ Word count: 10k ~ 40k

the first in line by @oflights [E, 29k]

Harry and Draco's Hogwarts Reunion by DarkPhoenixAscending [E, 13k]

Harry Potter and the Yuletide Potion by Grace_28 [G, 13k]

Just A Couple Of Strays by flowerpotboy [M, 20k]

love-stained hate by a_blur_on_the_highway [T, 18k]

Shades of Passion by CosmicallyFamous [E, 12k]

A Strange Twist of Fate by @shinigami714 [E, 18k]

Turn Back the Clock by @steampunkserpent27 [T, 14k]

—

Ongoing Fest/Exchange

※ Fics would be listed elsewhere.

Basilisks & Staircases - A Game of Drarry Fest | @gameofdrarry

HD Mpreg 2023 | @harrydracompreg

Lights Camera Drarry 2023 | @lcdrarry

[hlficlibrary]

HL Fic Library 🌸 Short Fics

(Part Two ~ 5k-10k)

Remember to leave kudos and a comment on the fics you enjoyed to show your appreciation! You can find our other recs here.

🌸 Just Your Jinx by @larryatendoftheday (T, 10k)

Harry Styles may or may not have accidentally jinxed his extremely fit new neighbor, and it's not so easy to make things right.

🌸 a garden in bloom by momentofclarity / @gaycousinlarry (G, 10k)

Louis used to live the quiet sweet life of a small business owner in the English countryside.

Then Harry Styles came along.

🌸 Make Him Want to Sin by QuickedWeen / @becomeawendybird (E, 9k)

The stranger’s sharp gaze landed on him immediately, the eye contact shattering through Harry’s defenses. For the first time in his life, Harry had an instantaneous reaction to someone. The man stared down at him with interest, like he wanted to take Harry apart and put him back together again, piece by piece. Harry wanted that more than anything, and he wanted it right now. It took every ounce of strength he had ever possessed to not drop down to his knees instinctively.

All from one glance.

Harry is a curatorial assistant at the London Museum of Natural History, on the day of the big annual gala he catches a glimpse of someone unexpected.

🌸 Give Me One Excuse by green_feelings / @greenfeelings (T, 9k)

Louis gets dumped by his fiancée and Harry is his replacement. It's not their decision to get engaged, but it's their decision to get married.

Or, an Arranged Marriage Royal AU.

🌸 You Deserve It All by Rearviewdreamer / @all-these-larrythings (NR, 9k)

Just once Harry would like to face his ex and feel confident, but he's shit at confronting Nick and unfortunately his shopping skills aren't much better. Thankfully for him, the cute sales boy at the clothing shop knows a thing or two about fashion and making ex boyfriends green with envy.

🌸 Night Out by @helloamhere (E, 9k)

Symphony hall was the first place Louis had felt at home in this city, and he always had the box to himself. Until tonight.

🌸 a body wishes to be held & held by @turnyourankle (E, 9k)

Harry wants to return the favour after Louis helps him out with his heat.

🌸 Sweet to the Soul, Health to the Bones by wildhalos (T, 9k)

“When you walk in, every single thing stops. I see you, only.” Someone keeps declaring their love on the brick wall outside Louis’s office window. It's possible Louis should be concerned, but the romantic in him would like to believe a stalker would use something slightly more vicious than chalk and pretty words.

🌸 Second Time's the Charm by @cherrystreet (E, 8k)

Louis’ mother is convinced she met her son’s soulmate at the market. Louis is extremely hesitant to go on the blind date she’s set up, but she’s persistent, begging and pleading, pulling out all the stops. After all, mothers do know best.

(Or maybe they don’t.)

🌸 Now That It's Over by @lululawrence (NR, 8k)

“What are the odds we would both be at Mariano’s on a Thursday night?”

Louis’ shoulders tensed. What the hell was he doing here?

“Harry? Hi? The odds are pretty crazy, yeah.”

Harry smiled down at Louis the way he used to, but there was also a glint in his eye that Louis absolutely did not like. Harry was also dressed in his favorite black and white striped women’s jeans and a printed shirt only he would ever be able to pull off. It was quite rude of him to come and interrupt Louis, particularly while looking so good. Louis hadn’t seen him since he’d finished moving his shit out of what was once their shared flat, so this being the first time seeing him wasn’t exactly providence in Louis’ mind.

Or the one where Harry and Louis broke up two months ago, and Harry just might be sabotaging Louis' dates.

🌸 good enough (for you) by localopa / @voulezloux (G, 8k)

omega louis is next in line to rule the pack. in spite of the rule saying he needs an alpha to rule, he creates an impossible olympics to find a worthy mate. harry somehow wins the gold.

🌸 Mr. Tuesday by @jaerie (E, 8k)

Tuesday. Harry loved Mr. Tuesday.

It was true that most of his clients were regulars, but there was just something about Mr. Tuesday that would make him stand out amongst the others even if he hadn’t booked almost every single Tuesday with him for the past year. It was the first day of Harry’s work week and Mr. Tuesday always eased him into it in such a pleasant way.

🌸 Holding out for something more by SunTomato / @sun-tomato (NR, 8k)

"This isn't a social call, is it, Curly?" Harry's gaze drops to the floor. "No." Harry takes a deep breath, fists clenching at his side, before he looks up again. His eyes meet Louis’ with a mix of fear and determination. "I want to make a deal."

OR The one where demon Louis really doesn't want Harry to trade away his soul, even if he can't explain why.

🌸 I Don't Love You I Want in Your House by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup (T, 7k)

Harry comes into the bakery almost every day trying to woo Louis.

Zayn works out at the gym maybe a little more than necessary so that he can get the chance to watch Liam train.

Niall is the only one who ever checks the mail.

🌸 Your secret’s safe with me by lightswoodmagic / @lightwoodsmagic (M, 7k)

He knew almost everything about Haz, considered him his best friend. He knew his favourite movies and books, how he liked his coffee, knew how many pets he had and what he was most afraid of. Louis knew how to calm him down when he was panicking, and that he’d lost his virginity to his ex-boyfriend when he was 17. He knew that Haz had curly hair, green eyes, that he was tall and considered himself slightly awkward. He knew his Instagram account that only had aesthetic pictures or ridiculous jokes, but in the all the time that Louis had known him, he’d never learnt, or been allowed to know, Haz’s full name, what he sounded like, or what he looked like.

Louis didn't care.

Or, when Louis' favourite singer comes back and announces he's performing again, him and the rest of his group chat decide to go. When Haz, the man Louis' fallen in love with without meeting him, says that he can't, Louis tries his best to convince him with a drunken phone call, hearing his voice for the first time. It's not until he's at Royal Variety that he swears he can hear it again.

🌸 'Sup by MediaWhore / @mediawhorefics (G, 6k)

Gemma really wants her little brother to sign up for a dating app and get back in the game after a messy divorce. Harry thinks he’s way too old to swipe. They compromise to devastatingly embarrassing results.

Meanwhile, all Louis wants is to finish the play he’s been commissioned to write, but one of the regulars at his local coffee shop keeps distracting him.

ft. older larry, pushy gemma, harry being a disaster gay and silver fox louis.

🌸 Easier by @allwaswell16 (E, 6k)

The last person Louis wants to see is his ex-boyfriend who also happens to be his soulmate.

🌸 Bijou by @kingsofeverything (E, 6k)

Being in love with his best friend wouldn't be so awful if Harry didn't have to listen to him constantly complain about how the guys he dates don't measure up.

🌸 We're Getting Better With Time by @haztobegood (T, 5k)

Hello Harry, this may seem out of the blue, and even weirder if you don’t remember me. We hung out for a few weeks back in the summer of 82. A picture of you showed up on my facebook tonight, I think because we have a few mutual friends on here. I know we haven’t spoken in forty years, but I thought I’d just shoot you a message. I hope you’re doing well. L

Or, the one where Louis is single, Harry is recently divorced, and they reconnect on Facebook forty years after they first met.

🌸 old macdonald had a farm by vintagehistories / @adoredontour (NR, 5k)

Louis is a hedgehog, Harry is a fish, Niall is a parrot, Liam is a golden retriever, and Zayn is Zayn. It’s a crazy twenty-four hours.

🌸 Only Reason by @letsjustsee (NR, 5k)

“We are so lucky to have with us one of the leading experts on beekeeping in the modern age, Dr. Louis Draper.” No. No, no, no… “I know I speak for many of us when I say that this man’s books have guided our practice, or helped us get started,” Harry continued, and Louis watched as the crowd nodded their heads in agreement. Oh shit. No. What? No. But then Harry was gesturing towards him, saying “Dr. Draper?” into the microphone, the crowd was applauding, and Louis found himself walking up the stairs to the stage.

Or, Louis is most definitely smitten with Harry from the second he sees him, but he is also most definitely not the world's foremost expert on beekeeping. He decides to roll with it anyway.

🌸 Get Nesting & Soft Knots by ishiplouis / @pocketsunshineharry (G, 5k)

AU where Omega Louis who runs a nesting materials Youtube channel meets Alpha Harry who knits his own blankets

[pacifymebby]

t r o u b l e / chapter thirty two

"What do you wanna see Michael for?" Asked Isaiah later that evening as we sat together in Alfie's kitchen. We'd been served dinner and though I was hungry I'd already decided I couldn't eat the food which had been placed in front of me.

He was giving me such a cynical look, face screwed up, disbelief worn shamelessly on his smirking lips.

"He's family." I shrugged but he just chuckled and shook his head. "What?" I asked when he didn't reply, when he simply kept up that smirking raised brow stare.

"Feelin home sick all of a sudden love?" He was laughing at me, I could see the amusement dancing in his eyes. I rolled mine.

"Michaels the only one who came to our recital when we finished left lower school and moved to 16+" I said cutting up my food carefully, studying it as I did. "It'll be the same this year no doubt... If we even manage to graduate after Tommy's little shit show..."

"You're so fuckin dramatic..." He said with a smirk, "obviously you're gonna graduate," he said shoving another meatball into his mouth, pausing only to chew and swallow, cutting me off just as I opened my mouth to argue. "And, when you do... I'll come."

"What?"

"When you graduate," he said mopping up the last of his stew with a slice of bread, "I'll come to your recital or your ceremony or whatever..."

And when he closed his mouth and held my gaze I realised I couldn't bide myself anymore time by asking "what?" One more time. Realised that if I didn't have anything to say in that moment then all I could do was remain quiet or shrug him off. And I couldn't think of anything to say because I wasn't sure what to make of his statement. Wasn't sure whether I should be pleased or touched or suspicious.

So I didn't say a word about it and instead turned my attention back to the plate.

"You want this? I'm full." I said standing up before he could answer, my chair scraping across the floor as my feet hit the stone and I pushed away from the counter we'd been eating at.

"Aye go on then.." he sighed reaching for my plate, taking another piece of bread and tearing it.

I couldn't watch him eat and so instead I turned away, arms folded across my chest as I gazed out of the kitchen window.

The view wasn't particularly impressive, it was simply a stretch of roof, clean slope of grey slate cutting down from one wall to meet another clean slope of grey slate which climbed to meet another. There was a kind of hollow in the middle where the house gave way to a walled garden in the middle of the structure, a tree confined along with a goldfish pond and a bench, a bowl of water left for Cyril.

The sunset broke behind the rooftops and gold light leaked between the cracks and the nooks. Spilled over the moss which grew on the slate slopes and painted them amber shades of soft green.

Outside the evening was still and peaceful and soon to be swallowed once again by London's muted grey night.

"You don't wanna see Michael Sylvie..." said Isaiah from where he sat perched by the counter.

"I do Isaiah."

"They fucked him up pretty badly..."

"I know, that's why I want to see him..."

"What do you wanna upset yourself for girl, what's the point in that?"

"Who says it'll upset me..."

"I do alright, I say it'll fuckin upset you because it will fuckin upset you alright?" He snapped, his cutlery clattering against the table when he smacked his hand down. The sound was shrill and sharp but I didn't flinch. Just remained still, watching two magpies on the roof.

"Oh well if it's your expert opinion..." I smirked aware that I was pushing his buttons again, aware that I was about to drive him to despair once more. But I couldn't help myself, couldn't help the urge to push him until he snapped, just to prove that I could. I told myself it was to remind him that I wasn't just some girl, that I wasn't fragile, that I was just as dangerous as him. But I wonder now if it was perhaps just that I liked the tension in his jaw when he was gripped by the frustration I caused him.

"Why do you really want to see him?" He asked after another moments quiet. A moment in which I'd been able to hear him deliberately draw a slower breath, trying to calm himself down.

"I told you, he's family... And I know it's worse than John told us so I want to see him for myself."

"You want to risk your life just to prove your brothers lie to you?"

"You make it sound unreasonable but it's not."

I heard his chair scrape against the floor then too. Heard him get up. His cutlery scraping on his plate as he stacked it atop mine. I felt the shift in the atmosphere as he crossed the kitchen floor and stopped just beside me. His elbow knocked mine as he placed our dirty dishes down in the deep basin and reached for the tap.

"It won't upset me," I said again, "and I want to know who hit him... I've visited my brothers in hospital before Saiah..."

"This is worse," he said quietly, "Michael should be dead love, he ain't in any state to tell you anything..."

"I still want to see him..." I said stubbornly plunging my hands into the hot water until I found a plate I could concentrate on washing instead of concentrating too much on Isaiah, how close he was standing to me, how quietly he was talking to me.

"I'm not gonna take you Sylvie," he said with a small smirk, "y'can phone him if you're worried..."

"You said he isn't in any state to talk..." I said, eyes focussed with a dead glow on the plate I'd long since scrubbed clean. "It won't upset me." I said again knowing the words were falling on deaf ears, not expecting him to reach out to me the way he did when I said it again.

He took my chin in his hand and turned my gaze away from the plate, forced me to look at him.

Scrutinised my dead dark eyes for a moment. And though I held his gaze with a stubborn determination he saw something there I hadn't been able to hide.

"You already are." He said letting me go, taking the plate from my wet hands and resting it carefully on the dish rack.

"Fine." I said quietly, my voice so certain, so unwavering, all the sharp smoothed carefully down by my tongue, that the word fell light but lay heavy in the silence between us which followed.

He didn't say anything, just took the sponge from my hands and nodded for me to leave him to it. But I didn't want to because doing the dishes had felt like biding my time. Had given me something to think about whilst I was busy thinking about other things. It had been something for my hands to busy themselves with whilst my mind raced through calculations and weighed up suspicions.

So I remained by his side feeling blindly in the soapy water for something else I could pick up and wash. A ghost of an apology skimming both our lips when my fingers brushed over the back of Isaiah's hand beneath the water. The relief moments later when I found a knife, felt the blade dig a warning into my palm as I closed my fingers around the wrong end.

And as we stood together washing the dishes in silence I tried to think through too many things at the same time.

First their was the trouble with Sunny.

Something about Freddie Sabini's note had been troubling me since I'd held it pinched between my hands. The risk he'd taken to deliver it to our door.

Because if he'd known he'd been found out, if he'd known there was a chance he was being followed, then why had he crossed the city to our front door and left a sign.

Second there was the trouble with Michael.

I hadn't been lying to Isaiah when I'd given him those reasons for wanting to see my cousin. Michael had been the only member of our family to attend that recital. One which had felt pivotal at the time when we were only 16 and didn't realise yet that every recital, every show we danced in was going to feel pivotal. Was going to feel make or break.

At the time the flowers he'd left us had been the only good luck and the only congratulations, I'm proud of you, that we'd had. He was the last member of the family to show up to any of our performances and the week Sunny had been announced as Odette he had sent her flowers to the flat.

Perhaps his reputation with the outside world was one of a sleazy playboy always getting arrested for petty possession charges, kicked out of clubs with bulging pupils and red eyes, but he'd always found time amid his careless antics for me and Sonya.

And I hadn't forgotten that. If not especially because of the reputation he had. The bad seed. There wouldn't be a single member of the public not secretly thinking he'd deserve it if he died. And if he deserved it then so would my brother's, so would my Aunt Pol, so would Uncle Charlie, so would Ada and Esme... So would Isaiah. So would Sunny and I.

I couldn't leave him on his own in that private ward. Couldn't leave him to the company of the armed police who would be being paid to guard him but who could probably be swayed with a little nudge from a Changretta or Sabini.

Not when I knew the devastation that Polly would be gripped with having been forced by Tommy to keep her distance. He was holding her hostage in that big house too and I knew she would be desperate to know her boy wasn't alone. Knowing Polly she'd probably be able to sense the second I stepped inside his hospital room. And I hoped she would know it was me, that he was in tender company.

"Whatve you got to do before bed?" Asked Isaiah, his voice a little lower, heavier than it had been before. The warm water lapping at our wrists had clearly subdued him, lulled him and left him suddenly aware of his own exhaustion.

For that I was grateful. It was going to make my evening much easier.

"I haven't practiced today so..." I shrugged knowing he would force himself to stay up with me, knowing he would sit there in a chair in the corner of the room, watching me, longing for me to give in for the night so that he could get some rest.

And if I could wear him out just enough then perhaps he wouldn't wake when I left in the middle of the night.

"Don't you reckon you should just try an get a decent night's sleep in you?" He asked but I could tell from the way he looked at me that he new it was a futile question.

"I napped."

"Mmm sure that half an hour's done you the world of bloody good..." he said only really grumbling to himself as he pulled the plug in the sink and reached behind me for the tea towel.

I ignored his comment and took up the other half of the towel scrunching it in my own hands to dry myself off.

He kept holding it even after he'd finished, waiting patiently for me to be done.

"Well I'll wait up with you," he said letting me get away with ignoring him again as I dropped the towel and turned away. Listening carefully to his footsteps as he followed me. He flicked the kitchen light off behind him and followed me to the gym Alfie had shown me earlier that afternoon on the "guided tour." The guided tour which had been his way of showing us all the rooms we could use and all the rooms which were barred to us upon "pain of death."

He'd been fairly generous with his permissions and really his little tour had felt like simply another method of talking too much to teach us who was in charge. To have us walking on eggshells aware that every second spent in his home was thanks to his generosity. Something he'd reminded me more than once, wasn't a trait he was famed for. Impatience, contrarianism, a short fuse... Those were the traits he was remembered for and wouldn't we do well to remember that.

Among the rooms he'd barred us from were his office, his bedroom, two doors which stood beside one another at the top of the stairs on the third floor, and a bathroom. He was very particular apparently about his bathroom. I'd struggled not to smirk when he'd frowned and shaken his head. Struggled not to laugh because an infamous gangster was apparently a nitpicking germaphobe...

Among the rooms he'd been so gracious as to let us use however was a gym. It wouldn't be perfect for training because it had been designed as a boxing gym with the usual soft mat floors, punch bags and lifting equipment taking up the space I would need. But it was better than nothing and, as I was beginning to realise, more than generous coming from a man who valued his privacy and personal space more than anyone else I'd ever met.

I was expecting Isaiah to shake his head at me when I placed myself down in the center of the room and began stretching, I was expecting to be chastised, told off for trying too hard, for wearing myself out. But once we were in the room Isaiah didn't say another word to me. Instead he watched me as I crossed the room, watched me drop to the floor and begin pointing my toes, going through my gentle stretches to ease myself up. He watched me with a growing intensity, with shadowy eyes and a glowering kind of pout.

And then he stopped.

He crossed the floor, brushing past me without a second glance, left me watching him as he stopped in front of the equipment wall and began examining the sets of gloves and guards hanging from the wall.

I watched as he took a pair down, slipped them over his hands and flexed his fingers. Watched as he pulled his t-shirt over his head and left it abandoned on the floor. Tried not to watch when he moved silently and took up a fighters stance before a punching bag, his eyes steely and glazed as he flared the inanimate object down.

Forced myself to watch as he channelled his anger into every rapid punch, the bag taking it all, muting every hit. He growled, the muscles in his stomach tightening as he threw another burst of short sharp stabbing punches that left a little lump in my throat. Left a tight kind of knot in my own stomach as I swallowed down and tore my gaze away from him. Tried to focus on my stretches and then, later on my steps.

I'd thought he might tire quickly with all the sleep he hadn't had. Instead he remained determined, stubborn and cut off from the rest of the world. The sound of his rhythmic jabs punctuating my delicate turns and steps. Every teetering pirouette I managed accompanied by the consistency of his anguish landed into that punching bag.

The sound left a strange sensation settled over me. As if I was being haunted by him. Every time I closed my eyes and tried to concentrate on my steps, every time I tried to slip into my sister's shoes Isaiah would grunt or growl with the effort of his exertion, and the image of his shirtless torso rippling with tension would come back to bite me.

It was knowing I was at the heart of that tension which left the lump in my throat. The knot in my stomach. And though I told myself that that really was all it was, guilt, I knew it wasn't.

And every time I opened my eyes or stole a glance back at him I found myself hoping he'd snap out of his apparent trance and cut a glance at me. Hold my gaze as he landed one of those cutting jabs into the punch bag. Perhaps he'd feel better if he was looking at me when he landed the punch.

But Isaiah's temper didn't fade until much later, when I was at the trembling crescendo of my routine. When I was en pointe and shivering, pushing myself that one step beyond my limit. Dangerously teetering, the burn in my thigh, in my calf and in my hip, everything pulled taut and trembling. Knee brushing my ear as I held the position my sister had perfected a long time ago.

With my eyes closed I couldn't see him staring, couldn't see the way his eyes drifted over my silhouette, the way his brooding expression seemed to shadow a little more, some kind of sad awe overcoming him. With my eyes closed I didn't see anything of him at all. But I heard it.

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The silence. The gentle creek of the punch bag swinging to a halt, a stillness capturing the room. A silence I had complete power over.

For a moment the realisation threatened to dizzy me, I felt the tingling rush of selfawareness in my fingertips and cheeks. I drew a breath and forced it down. Shut it off. Remained perfectly balanced, exhaled slowly, in complete control as I began to spin slowly like a china figure in a music box. Delicate. Pristine.

And still the silence remained. Isaiah stood watching me as if he didn't recognise the girl in front of him at all. And perhaps he didn't. I must have seemed a far cry from the girl who'd put a gun to her own head and threatened to throw herself out of the window only the day before.

Perhaps now, in a state of hypnotic concentration, caught in the wrap of my celestial revolve, I appeared from certain angles, to be Sonya.

And it was that thought which choked me. That thought which seized my body so that I knew I was going to fall even before the door burst open and Alfie's voice startled both me and Isaiah.

It was the thought of Sonya which sent me toppling. It just so happened that Alfie's poorly timed entrance appeared to be the cause. The disturbance which left the fragility of my balance all too obvious when I wavered and fell from my position to the floor.

Except I didn't hit the floor. Didn't feel the unforgiving thud or the burn of friction when my thigh came down against the vinyl.

Instead I felt the thud of a chest beneath my shoulder, two arms closed carefully around me as Isaiah stumbled to break my fall and hold me secure.

Instead I felt myself overwhelmed by the warmth of being caught, the snug of someone else's embrace as he scooped me up with ease.

"Fuckin hell Solomon's you never heard of knockin?" Snapped Isaiah, his frustration vibrating through his chest and mine as he spoke, still holding me. His grip was tense but not too tight and I could tell he wasn't about to let me go any time soon. I should have minded that but in the moment I didn't. In the moment I was grateful for his arms around my waist, one hand holding my shoulder, his body shielding mine so that Alfie couldn't see the way I was left trembling like a little bird. I was breathless. Not because of the shock but because the perilous move had torn through the last of my energy reserves and now that I was being held up by someone else I was realising just how exhausted I really was.

"Ever heard of knockin? Sunshine this is my fuckin house ain't it... Oh I'm sorry do excuse me little Shelby..." he said with a faux gracious gesture, "ain't used to minding me language and your little lap dog really does have a way of tempting my worse side..." he said sneering at Isaiah.

"Don't give a fuck who's house it is mate, she coulda been hurt... Fuckin fell because of you!"

I could feel the muscles in Isaiah's arms tense as he spoke and his temper flared and when I leant back against his chest, tilted my head back to look up at him I could see his glare burning, nostrils flared as he snarled at Alfie. But Alfie hardly seemed to notice Isaiahs temper, didn't seem phased by the threat in his eyes as he chuckled and shook his head.

"You care about the little gypsys health so much Lapdog, then perhaps you might like to think about letting her stay up so late eh?" He said, his eyes softening but not soft. "What do you think little Shelby? I reckon it's past your bedtime ain't it..."

And though his condescending tone left my cheeks burning with a furious blush, my eyes shadowy with a stubborn sulk, I could feel my own frailty in every shaking breath I took. So when Isaiah spoke up again in my defense I just shook my head.

"He's right Siah, I'm fuckin tired anyway." I said trying to shrug my way out of his hold on me, but in the moment I tugged away he held me a little more firm. His hands moving down to my waist to steady me before he let me go.

And even when he let me walk free he followed so close behind that I was sure I could feel his steps overlapping mine. His chest shadowing my shoulder blades.

I stopped in the doorway, inches from Alfie. Looked up at him with wide and blinking innocent eyes.

"Goodnight Mr Solomon's" I said as sweetly as I could, my smirk tugging at my lips when I curtseyed, held his gaze with a simmering glare to let him know I was laughing at him still.

"Call her Gypsy one more time..." growled Isaiah, his eyes full of disgust when he snarled at the older man. The two of them starring eachother down in the doorway, neither one willing to back down.

Alfie let out a low whistle, his eyes twinkling with unforgiving amusement.

"Get a muzzle for your pet little Shelby..." he chuckled as he stepped inside the gym and watched us walk back down the hall together.

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[figmentsfragments]

An Irish Goodbye

By E. Carry

(TW/CW: grief, grandparent loss, Catholic upbringing)

I was born into a big family — the Irish-Catholic way. Most of that family is gone now, and those left are dysfunctionally disconnected — another one of the Irish-Catholic ways.

Once upon a time, we had a matriarch. And what a matriarch she was. She was Helen Clare to many, but she was always Nana to me. When I needed advice on friendship, flower gardens, medical care, or anything really, I went to her. When everything was wrong and could be cured by only one hug, it was hers. The best childhood memories I cling to were the ones in her house — both of her houses.

Before my grandfather died, they lived a reasonable half hour away from my parents’ house, so we ate dinner there on many weeknights. My mom has since explained that she did that to save money, but all that mattered to me was spending time in my favorite place with my favorite people, my grandparents. My sister and I spent many summer days there, learning which of my mother’s childhood toys stood the test of time and which walls held the most ghosts. Eventually, my grandfather moved to a nursing home when his health declined too far, and, on one particularly terrible day, I stood in the kitchen alongside my Nana when the nursing home called to say he’d passed.

After my grandfather died, Nana sold their house and downsized to a townhouse across the street from my parents. I essentially lived there on weekends and most weeknights. After particularly bad school days, I would walk straight out of the minivan over to Nana’s front door, bypassing my own house entirely. Many a Bing Crosby, Perry Como, or Irish folk album was played in that kitchen with my Nana belting her brogued accompaniment, cigarette and coffee in hand. Many hands of War and Old Maid were played, with my blatant cheating never called out. I taught her to use her large-buttoned TV remote so we could watch Judge Judy, soap operas, true crime, QVC shopping network — you name it. Nana taught me the true art of mindless television, and she’d let me watch the music videos my parents tried to ban. I’d help answer all the modern pop culture questions of her crossword puzzles. We’d trade newspaper sections in silence sometimes, and, on gloomier days, we’d just talk about my grandfather until the sun went down. We missed him deeply and had experienced the worst day of our lives together, but at least we were together in it.

She lived in that townhouse on our street for the last three years of her life. She lived there until the day she was carried out by paramedics for her last hospital stay. It was the day after President’s Day — I was wearing red, white, and blue instead of my middle school uniform. We spent hours at her bedside and I begged my mother to let me stay for the duration. She said she didn’t have the strength to be there any longer, so we gathered our things to leave.

“Say goodbye to Nana. Remember, sweetie, this is probably the last time you’re ever going to see her.” Knowing full well that I’d already attended eighteen funerals, she had no reason to explain it down to me quite so pedantically.

“She’ll be okay. Well, not really okay. But Aunt Robin will stay with her, so that will be okay. Anyway, let’s get going. Remember, you’ve got school tomorrow, kid.” My heart had never felt heavier.

There were a million things I wanted to say to the strong, beautiful, kind woman that raised me. But I couldn’t say any of it with my mom waiting expectantly in the doorway, equally impatient to leave and eager to listen to everything I might say.

I stared into Nana’s eyes, as blue as ever, but so much wider than I was used to seeing. She was unable to speak from the intubation, and her face held so much fear I felt strings inside my heart just snap.

So I just said, “Goodnight, Nana. I hope you sleep tight. God bless you. I love you,” except I slurred it together the way my family always said it — more along the lines of “godbleshya, iluvya.”

I had long since given up on any concept of God, but I kept up the charade for the people to whom it mattered. It took every ounce of control I had to hold back my tears to speak, but I sensed in her panicked eyes that she needed to feel calm and normal. To this day, I wish I’d said so much more and so much else.

Nana spent the next three days on a morphine drip with Aunt Robin praying beside her. In those long days before she passed, my mother emptied out Nana’s entire house. She planned and scheduled her mother’s funeral while she was still alive in a hospital bed thirty minutes away. My mother tends to be a deeply unsentimental woman, at least in the moments it matters most.

Her funeral was the last day that side of my family existed; everyone fell apart in separate directions without her. I have a triquetra tattooed over my heart to keep close to me the little trio of a family I always wanted to keep: my grandparents with me. Nana taught me to cook in her kitchen and she also taught me everything worth knowing for the first twelve years of my life. I carry her in every part of my heart, mind, and soul still at age nearly-thirty.

She was a believer in the concept of guardian angels, like most of us who’ve known great loss. I have a long-standing beef against religion and the concept of god with a capital G, but I do consider myself spiritual in a much hippier way. I most certainly do feel my favorite people’s spirits guarding me all the time. I used to have a big family, and I still do; where they’re no longer physically here, their impact, lessons, and memories stay with me.

[disgraceful-writings]

Meant To Be

Chapter 2

Y/n and Aegon were born on the same day, with velvet eyes and white crowns. Y/n is sent to Oldtown by their mother to keep her pure. What happens when she doesn't return so? How will her twin react?

The day y/n left was the day Aegon started drowning in his cups. He had no one in the red keep anymore. Yes, his nephews would assist in pranking his brother, but no one cared for him. No one would kiss his cheek when his eyes were watery and their mother was on a rampage. He never understood why she hated him so much. He tried so hard to be a good son, but once she removed his only light, he broke. If she wanted a monster, he would give her a monster. 

He awoke one morning in the peasant clothes he wore the night before, with dried wine spilled down the front. Sitting up, his muscles felt tight like his head. The blazing sun was no help to the pain. What time was it? Definitely not morning. Not that it mattered. No one ever needed him. Laying back across the bed, he looked to the bottom of his bed and saw someone had put food and wine on his table. Might as well. Aegon pulled off his shirt on his way to the table and discarded it to the floor before slumping into the chair. Alicent burst into the door with a couple servants, “Aegon, you should’ve woken up long ago. Where were you last night? You are the king’s son, you are expected to act like a prince. Are you even listening to me?” 

“Yes”, he muttered before a bite of his breakfast. Alicent huffed and started muttering about some random stuff Aegon couldn’t care about until he heard a name he hadn’t in a while, y/n. She noticed his ears perk up at the name, “She would be disappointed if she knew what you’ve become.” At this he rose from the chair and stripped on his way to the bath the servants made. Alicent took one look at her oldest, shook her head, and left the room. Once it was only him again, he sunk into the warm water and let a tear fall. 

The garden was finally in full bloom. Y/n would love it, Aegon thought to himself, specifically the lavender flowers. She always made sure to stop and smell them any time she was in the gardens. Would she be the same? It’s been so long since he’d been graced with her smile. Had she heard about his reputation? How could she not have, it is all over the world. Aegon soon found himself in the training grounds. Aemond and Ser Cole fighting one another and to the shock of no one, Aemond won. When he laid eyes on his elder brother, he asked, “What are you doing out here? I know you haven’t touched a sword in years.” Aegon didn’t know how to answer.

“I was out for a walk, dear brother”, giving Aemond a pointed look, “besides, when have you started to care what I do in my time?” He didn’t give Aemond a chance to answer, even if he wanted to. As he wandered the halls, he saw a servant girl. She bowed and Aegon stopped thinking. He turned to her, grabbed her by the chin. He only saw y/n in this girl’s features and proceeded to force himself upon her. She tried to push him off, but he was too much for her. When all was done, she was left on the floor, a sobbing mess for someone to clean, and Aegon simply tucked himself back into his trousers and walked to his chambers.

He closed the door and flipped the table, sending fruits and wine to the walls and floor. Suddenly, another maid knocked on his doors and entered. “Your grace, your mother wants to speak to you in her private chambers”, she kept her head down, but when Aegon walked by her, he heard her take in a breath and start shaking. He simply mumbled to her to clean his mess and went on his way. When he reached his mother’s chambers, he noticed she had Aemond and Helaena summoned as well. With a smile, while looking at her other two children, she said, “Y/n will travel home in a week's time”, she frowned in Aegon’s direction, “both of you will be wed the day after she arrives.” Aemond spoke to their mother of preparations for her arrival and how he had missed their dear elder sister. Helaena muttered, “The dragons will dance after her arrival.” 

Aegon never paid much attention to Helaena, she always spoke in riddles and looked lifeless, but his sister was coming home. His sister would be home with him, where she belongs. With him…

Taglist : @watercolorskyy, @xitsemm, @d3nny

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[smileweakandwrong]

smileweakandwrong AO3 Ronance/Platonic Stobin Fic Masterlist

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Just Christmas and first kiss fluff.

in the garden of - E - 14.2K words (nsfw smut)

Fighting monsters was one thing, falling in love with Robin was a whole different kind of scary. But building a life together and discovering that there might be room for one more was not scary at all when Nancy was doing it with Robin. Ronance and ronanceden smut but also sweet and loving.

Tell Me Nothing Else Would Do - G -18.3K words

High school AU with no Upside Down where Nancy meets Robin in a sophomore drama class and they gradually become friends and then more. A big pile of 'when will they finally kiss?' fluff.

*putting it in one shots for now, but there will be a second part eventually

Missing Out - T- 3.7K words

Just some Valentine's Day silliness

Ten Seconds, Ten Years -G- 6.1K words

Fluffy Nancy POV reflecting on ten years of loving Robin

With Tired Eyes, Tired Minds, Tired Souls, We Slept -E- 33K words (warnings: graphic violence, sexual assault)

A dark Buffy the Vampire Slayer Normal Again AU

The Night Belongs to You -T- 9.7K words

A stobin-centric platonic love letter to long distance friendship and the struggles of asking for help in adulthood

Until the Walls Fall Down -E- 6.4K words (nsfw smut)

Nancy is stressed, Robin comes up with a plan to distract her. Shameless smut with a side of demolition.

[the-illiterate-pirate]

I L O V E McQueen. He’s so cutesy! Could I request him eating his s/o for the first time? I don’t imagine him having gotten much action but i think he’d be really excited

HI SRRY FOR THE LONG WAIT! I SUCK!!

Shook Me All Night Long

Notes: NSFW, reader has afab parts but no specified gender, consensual somno, kinda short sorry :(

Some days McQueen thought he would've been better just staying at Green Dolphin. Not much has changed since he was let free, only moving from one place to another. He wasn't sweeping down corridors in the Aquarium, but instead he was bussing tables and cleaning floors at a high-end restaurant a couple blocks away from his apartment. His "cell" was a little bit bigger, and the bathroom was a little more private. But McQueen had a hard time adjusting to life outside prison walls, and something rooted deep inside of him was near constantly telling him he needed to go back.

He had to remind himself of the smaller things in life. Sometimes he had to ignore the bigger picture to find and appreciate the little details, like in a painting. He had you to help remind him of that. Maybe life wasn't perfect like in the movies, but there were still things to find and appreciate.

You, for an example. McQueen loves you, deeply. He wouldn't have met you if he stayed in Green Dolphin. His bed was insanely comfortable. It didn't matter how long he was stuck closing at work, in under a minute he could kiss the sheets of his bed and he'd be out like a light, always waking up refreshed. He didn't have much access to music in prison, but now he loved to listen to the radio every morning. There was the little garden hanging from your bedroom window that he loved to tend to. Sometimes he'd find a bumblebee, and on a rare chance he could scoop one up in his hand.

There were a lot of things he missed about prison. But there was a whole lot more he enjoyed about the real world. Like coming home from a long night's work. That familiar ache in his back was present, but it would disappear after once he woke up. McQueen thanked his lucky stars you both had tomorrow off, that gave him the opportunity to sleep in with you until afternoon.

Normally you'd still be awake to greet him. But because he was kept overtime you were probably already asleep. That made him sad, but McQueen would manage. He was too tired to eat, so he put what leftovers you kept out just for him in the fridge, he'd eat them for breakfast tomorrow, most likely. A shower could wait. He didn't stink too bad, he'd do that tomorrow morning, too. He trudged down the hallway to your waiting room, ready to collapse into your arms and doze off. But McQueen suddenly stopped right in his tracks when he saw you.

Oh, sweet, perfect you. The summer heat kept you from enjoying the soft embrace of the blankets, you were down to the bare essentials; tiny shorts and an oversized shirt that left so much to the imagination, but McQueen didn't have to imagine. He's seen every inch of you there was, he knew what you looked like under it all.

You weren't in any peculiar position, you were simply huddled into yourself, one of his pillows wrapped in your arms. McQueen stares for a while longer, slowly getting more jealous of the pillow by the second.

Suddenly, he wasn't too tired to eat, or hose off, but McQueen didn't want to do any of that. He only had one thing on his mind.

He peeled off his clothes, his cat like eyes never leaving your gorgeous body while he stripped down to his briefs. He had your sweet voice stuck in his mind, echoing like a mantra. Something you both talked about long ago, something the blond had completely forgotten about until now.

How your gentle arms encapsulated his frame, your sweet voice talking in his ear. Praising him for how good he was doing at work, and how pent up he must be after such long shifts, breaking his back to please his mean, old boss and terrible customers.

Originally McQueen didn't like the idea of taking advantage of you like that. Love was so very important to him, he didn't want to experience the moment without you. But with your body tempting him so, sultry thoughts invading his mind, and armed with the knowledge that he had your consent, McQueen decided tonight was the night he was going to indulge in something devious.

He snuck into bed near your side, he gently moved your arms away from his pillow, throwing it away to the corner of the room. He threw his arms off you after McQueen heard you mumble in your sleep. Without the comfort of anything in your arms, you subconsciously flopped onto your back, giving your boyfriend the perfect opportunity to your body.

His big, warm hands traveled up your legs to your knees, parting them so he could fit his big self between them. Those hands went lower, cupping your soft thighs, rubbing them gently from underneath your shorts. McQueen felt like he could start drooling the longer he stared at between your legs. He finally pulled off your shorts, never pulling his eyes away from your sopping wet core.

Shit... You were already so wet. Did you have a good dream..? That stirred something inside him even worse.

McQueen didn't think he'd go all the way tonight, not while you were still asleep. But he wanted a taste. God, he really, really wanted a taste. He was ready to suffocate himself with you, but he forced himself not to. He'd never done this with you before, it'd be best to start off slow, right?

He wasn't sure how to start, he began with a long lick, the taste of you was like lightning on his tongue. One drop and he was hooked. Carelessly your legs were thrown over his shoulders, subconsciously flexing around his skull with every fat lick to your core.

Underneath his fingers and his rough palms, McQueen felt how the muscles in your thighs jumped and squeezed. From above he watched you squirm. That pretty mouth of yours was parted, silent, heavy breaths rocking your chest up and down.

He decided to leave your hole, spreading your slick and his saliva across everything, eventually finding your clit. Just the tiniest brush made you whimper, and McQueen knew immediately what he had to do. His mouth attached itself to the little ball of nerves, suckling and licking at your clit, making obscene noises from between your legs. The sudden pressure on your most sensitive parts finally got the reaction McQueen wanted. Your head was thrown back into your pillows, hands reaching down to your boyfriend's head to keep him there while he pleased you. A loud moan escaped your mouth, while he just kept sucking.

Between the pressure of your thick thighs around his skull and your hands pulling at his hair and the taste of you in his mouth, McQueen was in heaven. He couldn't understand why he'd never done this before. The noises you were making went straight to his cock, he could feel it growing harder in his boxers by the minute.

Two of his fingers found their way inside you while McQueen's mouth was busy with your clit. They pumped in and out of you at a nice pace, not too fast and not too slow.

Your noises picked up in sound with his pumps. His ear was just able to pick up the soft "yes, yes, yes" that he was able to squeeze out of you.

You whine and keen, humping his face closer to the parts of you that needed him most. Everything was still a daze. Waking up to absolute pleasure, and oh so close to a wonderful orgasm. Your thighs threatened to crack open his head while your nails dug deeper into his scalp. You chanted your boyfriend's name in a heavenly voice, asking for him to let you cum in his mouth, begging, sounding so needy. McQueen couldn't refuse.

He quickened his pace, sucking on your clit in time with his fingers thrusting inside you. It happened all at once, before McQueen even realized. Just a long wanton call of his name before he felt your cum drench his hand. Of course he immediately lapped it up, like a thirsty dog, licking your cunt up until it was clean.

He set back on his haunches, dutifully cleaning the cum off his hands while he allowed you to settle from your high. The mattress underneath was rubbing against his crotch, it felt too good. He was so pent up from eating you out, he felt like he was about to explode. He kept rocking back and forth. You took notice, taking sweet breaths, eyes floating down to the painfully obvious boner.

You let loose a shuddering sigh. "Well. That's one hell of a way to get woken up."

"You're not upset, are you?"

"'Course not. You were pretty good, I should make you eat me out more often." You chuckle lightly at the beginning blush on his cheeks. He cuddled closer, pressing his lips against yours. You could taste yourself on his lips, but didn't really mind. McQueen lowered you back into the sheets, caressing your body while his caged you in. You parted for a moment, eyes drifting between his and his crotch.

"Say... Why don't you give me the real deal before we hit the hay?" You say before attacking his neck with soft bites.

He was just able to stutter out his response. "Are you sure? Don't you want to go back to sleep?"

"And leave you like this? No way." You kissed him again, and again, and again, leaving him breathless. "My darling McQueen, you deserve to use me however you want after working so late..." He didn't try to fight it anymore, allowing himself to indulge in your body again.