#we'll see if I actually manage to stick with it

[rocketonthemoon]

fuck it - have a WIP I'm calling "The Gang Goes To Avernus"

(my tav ref aka K'oan)

“Soldier…” Karlach starts, flame licking around her. Not the feisty orange or battle blue they’ve come to expect, but white. Bright white flame jetting out from her vents and searing away the surrounding skin. “Soldier, I think… I think this is it.”

He’s tapped. He’s tired and spent and ran out of any and all energy for spells what felt like forever ago. Had it only just been an hour - moments basically - since they defeated the Brain? Shadowheart stiffens under his arm and K’oan knows she’s spent too. Potions won’t fix the heat burning their friend from the inside out. They’re out of options.

Something inside him breaks at the idea. This is it. The inevitable. He knew it was coming . Knew somehow it would be today. Possibly even this exact moment. They’d all known, all accepted it. And yet his heart aches, his body cold with the idea of losing her. 

No.

Whatever broke in his soul refuses to shatter. Instead, the brittle cold inside him swells, his mark prickling with his patron’s attention. Levianth listens to his soul and K’oan feels the devil’s power within him stir.

Shadowheart yelps in protest as he lurches forward. It’s graceless, his muscles cramping in fatigue, but he stumbles into Karlach. She catches him, eyes wide in surprise, widening further as he grips her by the shoulders. Her skin blisters his hands but he swears he barely feels it.

“Soldier–” 

“No,” he says firmly.

“Soldier, let go! I’ll burn you!” She tries to push him away, tries to pry his hands from her. 

“I said no.”

Karlach starts, looking at him fully. His lips pull back, snarling tusks on full display as he lets his patron’s power go. His hands are cold. So cold a part of him worries he’ll never feel again. Steam erupts between their flesh, hellfire and ice spitting.

“K’oan,” Karlach says softly. Ignoring her, he changes his grip, holding her in place and pressing his palm over where her engine burns brightest.

“You’re not dying,” he snarls. Cold creeps up his arm. Frost forms over and over against the heat. The flame start to take a more blue-ish tint but Karlach’s body still heaves with effort.

“I’m alright. It’s okay,” she assures him, but he won’t listen. Not any more. K’oan digs deep, drawing any reserves he had left.

“We have fought gods,” he growls, grunting with with effort. “We have fought demons and devils and literal death. I have seen your heart and I will not–” 

Karlach’s engine shudders under his palm. For a moment, the blaze pulses in angry rhythm. Karlach’s body seizes as suddenly the devilish contraption falls still. He can feel nothing under his fingers. No hint of heat, no lingering pulse. As if Karlach herself has been automatically turned off save the catching gasps for air.

Inwardly, K’oan dives into the void that broke him open. Levianth’s pool of power is there. Cold and deep, but not deep enough. He reaches in, both hands plunging to grab on to anything he can. Blindly, he searches until finally his fingers find smooth stone. 

A part of him knows his strength here cannot be measured truly. This realm within him is not real in the way the heat that burns under his hands is. But it does respond to his wants, his will. So he pulls and pulls, dragging the vessel up above the inky darkness of the pool. The pool is as cold as ever but the stone image of Karlach, strong and proud, pulses with warmth. K’oan mirrors his grip to the one he has on the flesh and blood version of his friend. 

If you do this, Levianth’s voice purrs in K’oan’s mind. If I do this for you-

He doesn’t let the devil finish. 

“Zariel cannot have you,” he growls in the material world. Karlach’s eyes meet his, the barest ember of hope in them. It’s enough to coat his voice with power. “She cannot. Have you!” 

With a roar, he pushes all of his power, everything he has left and more, into the vessel that is that infernal machine. Fingers blackened, breath frosting, he wills the searing cold to coat the valves of Karlach’s heart. What moments ago had been jets of fire transforms into hissing plumes of steam rising from the vents in her skin. And when finally her engine is about to freeze over, when the idol of her in his inner world shimmers a frosty blue, he calls upon Levianth’s power once more.

The cantrip, normally a frigid ice, burns with heat as it leaves him. K’oan has to steady his grip, so great is the blast that leaps from his hand, to keep from falling over. Karlach lurches herself, gasping, before heat begins to spread again under his fingers.

[the0ther-side0f-dawn]

just a little personal anecdote/ thought dump in the tags..

[krawdad]

Starting to like the idea of getting a second brush pen to put some accent color in

[sweetheartspence]

♡ a night to remember - s.r. ♡

a night out for garcia's birthday is just what the team needs. that is, until you get drunk and spill your feelings to spencer.

pairing: spencer reid x bau!reader genre: fluff, a bit of angst content: drinking, fem!reader, no use of y/n, reader wears a dress, miscommunication of sorts (oops), fluff, drunken kisses, a teeny tiny bit of angst, confessions, mutual pining, happy ending, not proofread wc: 3k a/n: ummmm maybe i like miscommunication. this scenario lives rent free in my mind (that and jealous!spencer... perhaps that needs to come soon). likes/reblogs/comments are SO appreciated (i giggle and kick my feet whenever i get any kind of comment on my fics), asks/requests are open! :) my masterlist!

Spencer is knee deep in paperwork when he receives the invitation.

"Hello, gorgeous people!" Garcia sings, flouncing into the bullpen, her skirt swishing around her. Spencer thinks that she might have a little too much energy, but you immediately smile.

"Hey, Pen," you greet her, setting your pen down and rolling back from your desk. "You're in a good mood."

"And why shouldn't I be, considering that it's my birthday this weekend!" She beams, throwing her hands out dramatically in a bout of jazz hands. "And every single one of you are coming out with me to the bar this weekend."

Morgan cheers, coming up behind Garcia. "Oh, hell yes! Great idea, mama." He wraps an arm around her shoulder, pulling her tight against his chest.

Oh no. Going somewhere loud, crowded, and probably horribly contaminated with germs, just to watch other people drink and have to call them taxis at the end of the night? His brow creases, and he quickly speaks up. "Actually, I have-"

Garcia fixes him with a sharp glare, and he snaps his mouth shut. "No exceptions," she says, and you grin at her adamant tone.

"It's gonna be fun, Spence," you tell him, leaning your head back to give him a big smile. His heart beats a little faster in his chest. "We can all get all dressed up, and go dancing, and get drinks-"

Garcia squeals. "Yes! Yes, yes, yes. See, someone gets my vision," she exclaims, clapping her hands together. "It's settled. And mandatory," she says, shooting Spencer another look. Spencer gives a resigned sigh, grumbling under his breath.

You roll your chair over to his, bumping his shoulder with yours gently. "It'll be fun, Spence," you repeat, tilting your head to give him another one of your blinding smiles, and Spencer is grateful that he's sitting down, or otherwise his knees might have given out. "We'll stick together, yeah?"

Spencer manages a weak smile, and who is he to deny you, when you're sitting there and smiling at him all sweet and hopeful. "Yeah," he agrees, nodding. "It'll be... it'll be fun."

---

Spencer was not having fun.

The bar was grimy, just as he had expected, and he's shoved into a booth with Morgan, JJ, and Will, who are making casual conversation and yelling over the music. Spencer is nursing the same beer that had been shoved into his hand the moment he walked in.

Someone had ordered round after round of shots, but he had dumped his in a nearby potted plant. There was already a headache tugging at the back of his mind from the bass pounding in his ears, and he's not particularly keen on making it worse. Everyone else is fairly tipsy.

You, Emily, and Penelope are especially tipsy, and Spencer can't tear his eyes away from where the three of you are dancing together. You're wearing a dress, a short little thing that swishes around your hips every time you move, and Spencer is pretty sure he's losing his mind. His breath catches when you laugh, your eyes crinkled, your head thrown back, hair cascading over your bare shoulders.

"You're staring, man." A voice interrupts his thoughts, and he looks over to see Morgan looking at him with a shit-eating grin.

Spencer's cheeks heat up, and he takes a small sip of his beer. "Shut up. Was not."

"Were too," Morgan shoots back smugly.

Spencer can't help but roll his eyes, sinking down in his seat. "Whatever."

Morgan laughs, tapping his beer bottle against Spencer's. "It's not a bad thing, you know. That you were staring. Little miss thing over there has some moves."

"I wasn't-" Spencer starts to protest, but Morgan gives him a look.

"Seriously, man? Trying to fool the room full of profilers?" Morgan raises an eyebrow. "You know, I think the whole world knows you have your eye on her."

Spencer's eyes widen a fraction, and he begins to sputter. "But-"

"Relax, man," Morgan grins. "Everyone in the whole world, except for her."

It's that moment when the three of you make your way back to the table, a thin sheen of sweat on your forehead, laughing loudly. You flop down next to Spencer, taking a big swig of your drink.

"I can't believe you guys didn't want to dance with us," you pout, giving Spencer your best puppy dog eyes.

"We prefer to watch, pretty girl," Morgan pipes up, giving you a wink, and you giggle. Spencer nudges into Morgan's shoulder, giving him a look that very clearly says knock it off.

"I'm not much for dancing," Spencer mutters, trying not to look directly at you. He feels like he's in the presence of the sun, burning bright and shiny and hot, and looking at you for too long will make him go blind.

You lay your temple against his shoulder, sighing, and Spencer tenses. You're drunk, he reminds himself. You don't know what you're doing. You'd never offer affection this freely if you were sober.

"That's okay," you murmur, your voice far too soft for the chaotic environment of the bar. "The more people that were dancing, the hotter it would be, and then I would get all sweaty and gross. So it's really a good thing, honestly."

Spencer knows you're trying to make him feel better, and his heart clenches. You're speaking right into his ear, your breath tickling his skin, and he doesn't know if he's ever felt so aware of his surroundings.

"You could never be gross," he says back, his voice just as soft as yours. You let out a huff of a laugh, and he feels it on his neck.

"You have to say that cause you're my friend," you tell him, wrinkling your nose. Your face is flushed, from both the dancing and the alcohol, and he wants to reach out and smooth the creases from your eyebrows.

"I'd say it even if I wasn't," he responds, and he has to fight the urge to wrap his arm around you, to pull you closer into his side and keep you there.

Emily arrives back at the table, brandishing a tray with yet another round of shots. You cheer, sitting up, and Spencer immediately misses the feeling of your cheek against his shoulder. She passes them out, grinning, and you toss yours back, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

Spencer pretends to take his as well, tipping his chin back and grimacing, and pours it into the potted plant. That poor plant, he thinks. If plants could get drunk, this one certainly would be. Luckily, it looks to be some kind of snake plant, he thinks. Hardy, and can withstand the dehydrating effects of the alcohol.

You turn to smile at him, your eyes slightly glassy, your hair mussed and your gaze unsteady. "It's good to see you let your walls down a bit," you tell him, gesturing to the empty shot glass in front of him. Spencer conjures up a smile, forcing it wider than it would normally be while he's sober.

"Yeah," he mutters, shrugging his shoulders. "Seemed like a good night to let loose."

He doesn't like lying to you, but he knows if he didn't at least pretend to drink, the team would be pushing shots into his hand. And besides, you look so happy at the prospect of him relaxing, that he can't quite bring himself to tell you. Spencer takes another tiny sip of his beer, turning his attention to the rest of the team's conversation.

---

About an hour and another round of shots later (sorry, plant), Spencer is all but ready to call it quits and retreat to his apartment for the night. You're ridiculously drunk, your voice a little too loud and right in his ear. You've decided that the best use of your time is hanging onto Spencer's arm, and he can't say that he's complaining.

You're in some kind of animated discussion with Emily, the content of which he hasn't been paying attention to, too focused on the way your lips wrap around the syllables of the words, the way your eyes are lit up. He's hyperaware of the fact that he's staring. You're too drunk to notice.

"No, and then- and then he said-" You break off into a fit of giggles, slumping back into your seat, bringing Spencer's arm with you. He doesn't stop you, just watches as your brow furrows suddenly in concern.

"Jesus, I'm so nauseous," you moan, clutching tighter to Spencer's arm. He can feel his muscles tense.

"Okay, let's get you home," he murmurs, gently extracting his arm from your embrace, and helping you out of your chair. He's met with a round of boos from the team, but silences them with a glare.

"Thank you both for celebrating with me," Garcia says sweetly, batting her eyelashes.

You wrap her into a tight hug, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "Like I would ever miss my favorite girl's birthday," you tell her, your voice dripping with fondness. She hugs you back, her movements a bit uncoordinated, but affectionate all the same.

Once you've finished with your goodbyes, you slip your hand carefully into Spencer's, and he can feel his shoulders tense up, his cheeks begin to color. You're drunk, he thinks again, a silent mantra.

"Alright," he says softly, tugging on your hand gently, leading you outside of the bar. The cool night air feels fantastic on your flushed skin. "Let's call you a cab, yeah?"

While Spencer fumbles with his phone, presumably calling a cab, you watch him. You lean against the brick wall of the bar, tilting your head. The street lamps cast a soft, orange glow across Spencer's face, and you find yourself wanting to trace the shadows of his cheekbones with your fingertip. His long, dark eyelashes fan out over his cheeks when he blinks. When he looks back over at you, his lips quirking up in a soft smile, revealing a dimple on the side of his mouth, you forget to breathe.

"Cab's on its way," he tells you, leaning against the wall next to you, his shoulder brushing yours. Does he even know how pretty he is? You wonder. He has to know, right?

You turn your head to look at him, and the glint of the streetlight catches on one of his curls. You reach up, unconsciously, tucking it gently behind his ear, and you leave your hand there.

His mouth opens and closes a couple of times, and you watch in fascination as the tips of his ears turn pink to match his cheeks. You mistake it for the effects of the alcohol, or perhaps the cold air of the night.

"What are you doing?" Spencer asks, his words barely a breath. Your eyes follow the path of your fingers as you run them down his cheek, coming to land on the side of his neck.

"I don't know," you whisper, and you tilt your chin up, your nose brushing against his, and you press your lips gently to his.

It's soft, chaste, maybe a bit awkward, and Spencer's heart stops in his chest. He freezes, barely daring to breathe, as your lips move against his. His lips are chapped, from chewing on them insistently when he reads, and warm, and you've never felt anything more perfect in your life.

Spencer's hands come up to grip your shoulders, and you think he's finally going to respond, to kiss you back.

He pushes you back, not aggressively, but decidedly removing your lips from his. His lips are pink, glistening with spit, and he looks gorgeous.

The next thing you notice is the stricken look on his face.

"You're drunk," Spencer whispers, his eyes big and shocked and sad. You feel your heart sink in your chest.

Shit. Shit, he doesn't want this, doesn't want you. This was a terrible idea, and now you've ruined the friendship, lost your friend-

"You're drunk," he repeats, his voice firmer now. Spencer takes a step back, putting some space between the two of you. Your eyes water.

"So are you," you say weakly, your voice threatening to be carried away by the wind. Spencer can see the tears pooling in your eyes, the feeling of rejection washing over you, and he hates himself for it.

"I'm not-" he begins, but what he's not, you never get the chance to hear. A cab pulls up to the side of the road, and Spencer takes another step back from you.

"Your cab," he says quietly, gesturing to the car. He takes you by the elbow, and opens the door for you. He helps you into the cab, handing the driver a few bills. When did he get those out?

Your eyes are big and glassy as you look up at him, biting your lip so hard that it threatens to spill blood. You don't care. You want it to hurt, to reflect the state of your heart.

"Text me when you get home safe," Spencer murmurs, closing the door after you. He taps the top of the cab, and the car peels away from the curb.

Spencer sighs, raking both of his hands through his hair and down his face. You're drunk. You're drunk, he thinks. You absolutely never would have done that if you were sober. You thought he was drunk, too. His mind is racing, his heart pounding. It's not like you'll even remember this in the morning.

---

It's Monday morning, and you're ignoring Spencer.

Okay, maybe ignoring is a strong word. You've been cordial, polite, but still terse, greeting Spencer with a tight lipped smile and none of your usual bubbly enthusiasm. You had already had a cup of tea on your desk, and hadn't bothered to drop by his desk with a freshly brewed cup of coffee like you usually do, followed by a snippy comment about the amount of sugar it contained.

Spencer hates it.

Hates it, and can't quite figure it out. Are you embarrassed? Obviously you remember something, otherwise you wouldn't be so cold. Do you regret it? Do you think he took advantage of you? You had definitely initiated the kiss, so that couldn't be it. Right?

It's driving him insane.

As soon as the clock hits five, you've slung your bag over your shoulder, making a beeline out of the bullpen, without saying goodbye. Spencer scrambles to follow, shoving a couple of papers into his messenger bag and walking as fast as he can out of the bullpen without breaking into a dead sprint.

"Hey," he calls after you, but you don't turn. "Hey!"

He catches up to you, grabbing onto your shoulder and turning you to face him. Your face is carefully neutral.

"Oh, hi," you say, flashing him the same, tight lipped smile. It doesn't reach your eyes, doesn't make the corners of your eyes crinkle like he loves. "I didn't hear you behind me."

Spencer knows that's a lie, but he lets it slide. "I needed to talk to you. About last weekend."

You let out a laugh, but it's forced and high pitched and wrong. "Oh, yeah. Crazy night, huh?"

Spencer stares at you, waiting for you to say something else, but you just fidget uncomfortably.

"You kissed me," he says finally, his eyes boring holes into your face.

You wince. You were hoping he was drunk enough that he forgot, that things could go back to normal, like he didn't push you away and shatter your heart.

"I'm so sorry," you rush out. "I was drunk, like, ridiculously drunk, and you were there, and you were drunk too, and-"

"I wasn't," Spencer interrupts. His gaze is intense, and he takes a step forward, almost toe to toe with you. You have to tilt your chin back to look at him.

"You... weren't...?" You ask weakly, suddenly hating yourself even more. Great, so he was fully conscious, when you embarrassed yourself.

"No," he says softly, shaking his head. "But you were. And it wouldn't have been... right. To kiss you like that."

Your heart beats a little faster, your stomach swooping. "Oh."

Spencer huffs out a laugh, the tips of his ears turning the same shade of pink from that night. It's more vibrant in the fluorescent lighting of the BAU's hallway. He reaches up, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. "That's not really how I wanted our first kiss to go, if I'm being honest."

"You've... thought about it?" You squeak, your cheeks flushing at how vulnerable you sound. He's holding your heart in his hands, has been for weeks, and he has no idea.

"Yeah," he breathes, nodding. "I usually imagine it at your doorstep, after I've taken you on a really lovely and romantic date, but I guess life works out in funny ways."

You're pretty sure you've stopped breathing, your eyes darting between his gaze and his lips, and you lick your lips unconsciously.

"I wanted to kiss you," Spencer whispers. "I did. I promise. Just... not while you were drunk."

You go up onto your toes, brushing your lips against his hesitantly, with none of the confidence of the first kiss you had shared outside the bar.

But this time, Spencer kisses you back.

His lips move against your own, his hand coming up to curl into the strands of hair at the nape of your neck, and every single thought flies out of your head. All you can think about is him.

There's a tiny bit of tongue, just a brush of his tongue along the seam of your lips, but before you can open your mouth eagerly, he's pulling back, resting his forehead against yours. His eyes are closed, and you can see a faint, barely there freckle on the bridge of his nose. You want to kiss it.

You do, taking his face in your hands and tilting it down, pressing a kiss along the bridge of his nose, because you can. Spencer rewards you with a laugh, the sweetest sound you've ever heard.

"How's that for a do over?" Spencer asks, his grin lopsided, his eyes shining. You pull him down for another kiss, smiling against his mouth.

"Yeah, it was alright," you tease, lacing your fingers with his. God, this feels right.

"I do believe that I was promised another kiss, though. After a really lovely and romantic date?" Spencer laughs again, his face bright and happy.

"Yeah, I think I can arrange that."

[nightingale-prompts]

Batboy meets Kitten-Batboy Au-DCxDP

First | Previous | Next

(I know I'm really late but...things happen.)

Danny unfurled his wings in a long and slow stretch. He let out a yawn, his fangs seemed to grow longer as his jaw flexed.

"Tired?" Nightwing asked leaning over Batboy.

"Not even a little. I have to show off my new wings." Batboy said pulling on the wings like a cape.

"Don't go overboard. Stick to gliding." Nightwing said knowingly.

Yeah, there are still drawbacks to wings. The important one is that flying takes more energy from him than a bat. So no extra flapping.

It was fine though, the updrafts in the city are more than enough. If Danny fully shifted it wouldn't be a problem.

"Yeah, yeah, yea-." Danny froze.

There it was. That feeling again. It was like it called out to him.

It felt like a runner's high. When you've pushed yourself to your limits but you just keep going. The taste of pure euphoria. Like a shark smelling blood. Like skydiving off a mountain. An adrenaline rush.

And it called to him. Like a deer taunting a mountain lion.

Danny stared off in that direction. His pulse racing. His eyes dilated.

He managed to pull away just long enough to see Dick look at him with concern in his eyes. He tried to open his mouth and speak but his mouth felt dry.

This effect would only come from someone like him. Another Halfa, one that had a powerful obsession. And Danny needed to see them. They were in his territory and their ghosts said demanded a fight.

But Danny wouldn't run. Not this time. He had to tell Dick that he needed to do this.

"I need to go. I don't know how to explain but it feels like I have to go there. I don't want to disappear on you like...before." Danny said earnestly worried that Dick will try to stop him.

"I don't understand completely but I trust you. You're my...s-Batboy. You're a good kid." Dick said ruffling Danny's white hair. "Though if I end up in a fight tonight they might miss you."

Danny only smiled as he took off.

****

Danny landed in a gutted old factory. Rusted industrial equipment made the air smell musty.

The acidic scent in the air had nothing to do with the environment. It was them. Stalking and moving in the corners of the factory floor.

"Enough playing," Danny said testing the way his voice bounced around. He couldn't echolocate his target in the space properly. But he could feel them just find.

A low purr was all he heard until a body crashed into him.

"DANNY!" A familiar voice screeched in joy.

A pair of green eyes and stark white hair that wasn't his own looked down on him. What was new was the pair of white fluffy ears that wiggled on top of her head.

"DANI! YOU'RE ALIVE!" Danny pulled her into a bone crushing hug as they both laughed. "How did this happen? I thought I had lost you!" Danny wrapped his wings around them both in a tight embrace as her tail curled around them.

After a lot of hugging and crying the two finally talked properly.

"It was a bit of a surprise for me too. Nocturne found me a while ago in the mist or something. I don't know what he called it but he pulled me out of it. He put me in this thing and it sort of slowly built me around my core. But I kind of...escaped. I was scared if it after what happened with Vlad. So I ran to find you because that was all I knew. But I wasn't actually finished so I kind of started to melt...again." Dani trailed off.

"You what?! Why would you do that? You almost died again?!"

"Relax, I figured it out. This place is full of ecto and after turning into something smaller I was fine. Kinda. But I was picked up."

They didn't get to talk for long as the jeweled bracelet on her wrist vibrated.

"I gotta go. Mom is looking for me. I'll come find you next time and we'll have our brawl then." Dani said phasing out.

Danny tried to stop her but Dani was always faster then him.

He shifted uncomfortably in place. The lack of a fight was something a ghost never liked. It was basically a greeting.

Still, Dani was back. DANI WAS BACK! He wasn't alone here anymore. That was enough for now.

[alchemistc]

Welp, looks like I'm not done with the make them communicate series.

"I don't think this is working," Buck says, and sits in the silence of his words long enough to see the panic in Tommy's gaze. He waves his hands, shakes his head.

It was a stupid argument, really. A little thing that grew into a bigger thing until they were bringing up past grievances big and small and then Tommy had just ...shut the fuck down. Still and quiet in his seat, arms crossed, ass apparently surgically attached to that chair, so tense Buck could see the seams in Tommy's shirt fighting for their lives.

"That's not - I don't mean us. I'm still, like, so mad at you right now but I'm not - this isn't." Buck pauses. Takes a breath. Steadies himself with his weight braced on his palms. Tommy's arms have become somehow more crossed. "We're working. Badly, at the moment, but we'll figure it out. I just meant - Tommy do you need a break?"

He'd been clingy as hell, all those months ago. He could remember the panic every time Tommy got that "making a break for it" look on his eyes. He could remember the anger in his voice when he'd made Tommy swear not to leave in the middle of a conversation.

Tommy blows out a breath through his nose that makes Buck wonder if he'd been holding it.

"Yes," he says, grimacing like he hates to fucking admit it.

Buck's voice is a little fried. He still feels like yelling. He's still so pissed.

He'd caught Tommy smoking a cigarette, after the funeral. Could still remember the way he'd smiled around the filter when Buck's nose scrunched up at the smell. He hates the act itself, but it had looked...

Well, it had looked.

Buck's pretty sure Tommy had spent the early hours of the morning, once Buck had successfully managed to make him believe he could sleep, leaned over the kitchen sink slowly dismantling the rest of the pack stick by stick.

Buck has no idea what Tommy's calming techniques are. They should -

They should talk about that.

"Five minutes," Tommy says, already shaking weight out of his limbs, curling out of his seat. "I'm - five minutes. Time me."

He's already halfway toward the back door, which gives Buck a little comfort. Front door would have kept him on edge until he could actually see Tommy's face again. Back door means if Tommy's making a break for it he's gonna have to jump the fence.

"I'm not gonna time you," Buck snips, because he's still - he's not a violent man but sometimes Tommy drives him so damn crazy.

Buck paces. Does a mental inventory of his baking supplies. Thinks about Tommy's clothes, still waiting to be put in the dryer. Remembers this whole thing had started because Tommy made some dumb joke about how he hadn't expected to be sharing a closet with Buck and Eddie when Buck handed him a shirt Eddie'd left the last time he'd stayed over.

Tommy wasn't even being an ass, that time.

And. Okay. So, yeah, what he and Eddie have isn't, like, not co-dependent and a little strange to outsiders. He knows that. But it's still a sore subject with them. And Tommy's doing a much better job taking Buck at face value than Buck is believing that Tommy believes him.

It had just been a joke. A poorly executed one, but just a joke.

Tommy's back in four minutes and twenty-two seconds. Not that Buck was timing him.

Buck's a little surprised when Tommy walks right past his chair to stand across from Buck.

It seems like it's a struggle for Tommy to look at him. He does, though. Buck hates the spooked look in his eyes enough to feel some of the ire trickle from his spine.

"My father yelled a lot," Tommy says, and Buck rolls his tongue over his teeth. Clenches his jaw because he so rarely gets anything like this from Tommy and if he makes a single noise Tommy will clam right the fuck back up. "I learned a long time ago the easiest way to deal with that was to shut the fuck up and listen. Most of my adult life the same principle applied."

Buck's still annoyed with Tommy, but it would be incredibly easy to shift all that anger straight into everyone who's ever made Tommy feel small even once in his entire life. Starting with himself and working his way backwards to Dick Kinard.

("His name is John, Evan, that's not even close to a derivative.")

"I know you can't always help it. But. If we could - yell less. That would help."

Buck holds up a fist. Raises a single finger from it, just to see Tommy's watery grin.

"Can I go back to not-yelling at you now?"

"We could start framing our arguments as lively debates," Tommy jokes, because he can never quite help making light of things, and it's a trait Buck adores and despises in equal measure. Tommy catches him rolling his jaw, and sobers. "Return to our regularly scheduled programming."

"Tommy, I swear to -."

[djcandiepaws]

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ yandere! crossdresser x reader

summary: yall shower together huzzah!!1!! cw: implied noncon touching

post it notes: hiiiii!! i will have him confess sometime in the near future but so far i will just be doing random scenarios + hcs of him

You and him have returned from the beach, you guys played in the water, and built sandcastles. Unfortunately for you guys though, the sand made itself comfortable on you guys' wet skin.

"Ugh, we need to take a shower. I love the beach but man, sand sticking to me is so uncomfortable." You sigh out, but that's actually when a lightbulb went off in his head. "Ah!… So… you know my family pays the water bill, right?" He takes a few steps closer to you. You murmur out an 'uh-huh'. "And you remember when you once mentioned to me how you take pretty long baths…" You nod in response. "How about we just bathe together? ...to save money, of course!" His heart almost jumps out of his chest asking you this. It's so intimate, but y'all have been friends for a few months by this time, so it shouldn't be that weird, right?

An involuntary 'oh' comes out of you. He starts getting a bit nervous; did he make you uncomfortable? "Hey, it's not that bad!! I won't look if it's more comfortable for you." You just stare, blinking at him. "That's a strong… uhh… idea." You look taken aback. That's a very strong question to ask. Though, wouldn't it not be weird? You guys have been friends for months now, and so far he seems friendly and non-judgmental.

"Pleaseeee!! Don't you want to relieve some stress off of my parents backs by not wasting so much water? Bathing together is an easy solution!" I mean, you start to consider it. It won't be that bad, right? It's not like he's asking anything that strange... It doesn't have to be sexual. Plus, you would hate to be a burden to his family.

"Well… I guess I don't want to be a burden to your family… And nudity isn't always necessarily sexual... Fine, we'll do it!" You rub your arm nervously. "See? It'll be fine! I think of this as nothing more than a friendly gesture, I swear!" He wants to jump up and down and squeal and just freak out so bad. He can't believe he managed to persuade you into this!! He holds your hand to guide you into the bathroom and he closes the door behind you.

He begins to undress while making eye contact. "Woah, you're going to undress in front of me?" You just stand there while saying. "Like you said, all nudity isn't inherently sexual. It's just how you perceive it." He holds your hand. "Also, I trust you. Anyways, your turn!"

Though reluctant, you agreed and started to undress.

Soon you're done undressing; you're both just standing there, naked, and stuck waiting for the bath water to fill the tub.

It was so awkward. Your eyes averted his gaze and body, trying to be respectful.

Once the bath was done you both got in. It was a bit awkward, being naked in front of him like that. You must admit the silent atmosphere lulled you to sleep halfway. You're not really sure what happened during that time but you do faintly remember feeling sudden touches all over your body. You never really asked him what happened because you feel a bit scared to bring it up, plus you would hate to ruin your only friendship in this new town you're in.

There is already rumors at school that say nasty, yet untrue things about you. If you ruin this friendship you'll be completely alone.

When you sleep over usually y'all watch a movie and then say goodnight after, but that night things felt different. That night you guys went to sleep without saying anything to each other.

[mynameismad]

What have I been up to?????

Hey all! I'm sure you're all cycling rapidly through the stages of grief like I am, but I thought I'd just check in and let everyone know what's going on with me and when they can expect more comics!

GOOD NEWS: I got a concept art job! I've been working freelance for a client for about two months now and things are going great! Honestly working on short assignments with weekly deadlines has been an amazing break from the slow, constant march of longform comics. I am surprising myself every day and haven't been this excited to learn and grow as an artist in a very long time. Moving forward, I would like to find a full time job in games and stay there, rather than continuing to hustle full-time in comics. I've paused my Patreon for the foreseeable future.

THAT BEING SAID: I will always be making comics!!!!!! I love them a lot, they've been good to me, and I have all these ideas in my head that NEED to be let out. I want to start making them in my own time, rather than as my main source of income. We'll see how long it takes to find true stability in concept (maybe never, lol) but in the meantime I will keep drawing my silly little guys and posting them online for everyone to see. I have to! I have to keep going and making the art I want to see in the world! We have to keep going!!!!

SAKANA: hoping to get back to the fish boys sooner rather than later. I've been stuck on whether to end the latest chapter right away or get a few more pages in there. We're moving into a HEAVY part of the plot, which will be trickier to write, so I've been procrastinating lol. Please don't take my extended absence as proof that I'm walking away from the story: I've just been busy with a new job and I don't know exactly how to get to the next chapter yet!! (also, jsyk, the Webtoon mirror is something I was doing for fun! not a priority!!)

RR: I actually have a few different projects started for RR! Chapter 2 is like 9 pages in, but then I paused and started work on a 20ish page minicomic, which is like 7 pages in. I'm going to finish the mini first and hopefully upload it to itch.io. For Chapter 2, I created this really elaborate environment in an effort to force myself to learn Blender, but then I got a job....so I have no time to learn Blender lol. Still trying to figure out whether to simplify or push forward.

OTHER: yeah...I am a comic artist at heart so obviously I have a million things I want to do. But SAKANA and RR are the highest priority right now!

UPCOMING: I am pursuing other freelance work for shorter, more manageable projects! If you need somebody to redline all your thumbnails, critique the first draft of your synopsis, or make a 20-40 page comic, please keep me in mind!

In closing: I'm locking my twitter accounts tonight and moving away from the platform for now. I'll be here, Instagram (@/mad_rupert), and BlueSky (@/madrupert). Thanks for sticking with me, let's hold onto and support each other in the coming weeks, months, and years! Let's keep going!!!!! I love you all so much!!!

[sexilene]

Hi angel! thoughts on 80s!slasher!jj ?? I loveee ur work btw! sending hugs and kisses! 💗

ofccc!! this is fun lol - 80s!slasher!jj

₊ ⊹ warnings! 18+ - p in v, non con, violence, jealous!jj, death, slight breeding kink, threats, obsessed!jj, dark!jj - ₊˚⊹

you and jj would have never become friends if you both hadn't met while working together at the little fast-food diner inside the mall. he was usually working in the back, preparing the food, and you were usually on server duty. with your short white tennis skirt and the diner polo shirt uniform you could usually draw attention from guys who wanna take you out and possibly eat you, you were so sweet. but there were days when you and jj would both be on cashier duty, those were his and your favorite days, it was basically like hanging out all day side by side.

as the day dragged on it was getting closer to closing time, thank goodness you thought, already super exhausted. after a few minutes a group of preppy jerk jocks come in, one of the guys walking up to your register with a stupid smirk on his face, danny. "hey babygirl, can i get uh, the number 5 with a milkshake anduh- your number? " he tilts his head up, proud of his little pickup line. you shake your head with a small smile and silently scoff at his stupidity. jj who is currently helping another customer, listens in and watches the interaction by side eyeing you both every few seconds. jj's jaw ticks as he tries to let you handle it. 

"a number 5 will that be all?" you continue to try and be professional with a sweet smile. 

"uh no actually, how about- you let me take you to the prom," he smirks again.

"i'm actually out of town that day so-" you tilt your head and act uninterested. 

"oh cuhmon- it'll be fun, you know you want to. i even booked a hotel room for that night and we'll-" danny persists further until he's interrupted by jj who snaps his head toward us. 

"she said no man." jj warns, danny's mouth agape as he turns over to look at jj. 

"was i talking to you maybank? cuz uh- i don't think i was." danny snickers almost trying to size jj up. 

"i don't give a shit, she's clearly not interested." jj squints his eyes and nods to himself. 

"oh woah! you've got yourself a little protector huh? no way this guy is your boyfriend right?" the guy turns to you and then back to jj. "i mean look at you! she's a total betty and you...you and your deadbeat dad aren't even good enough to scrape the dirt off our shoes." the boy scoffs and the rest of his friends snicker on cue.

jj tongues his cheek and grins in faux amusement, the guy turns around to walk off like a winner when jj reaches his arm out and taps the guy's shoulder. "hey man you forgot your-" jj grabs one of the milkshakes ready on the counter and throws it in the asshole's face, 'ruining' danny's gelled hair and expensive polo shirt. the diner fills with gasps, 'ooohs' and snickers.

"milkshake." jj finishes his sentence, and laughes through his nose. you stand there eyes wide as danny wipes the melted pink milk off his eyelids. "quit fuckin' around and get outta here" jj shoos the guy away with the motion of his hand as the humiliated boy walks away shouting back loudly "you are so dead maybank!" 

"whata piece of shit." jj mumbles and slams his hand on the counter and turns to see the manager shaking his head, disappointed. jj goes into the kitchen leaving you there to process what just happened. 

as the restaurant was about to close, you and jj were the only ones left, since you would have been closing together that night. the manager did fire him but somehow managed to stick around without him seeing jj.

you decided to let him do this thing inside the kitchen while you did the final table wipe-downs and setting up everything for tomorrow morning, time after time playing in the background. you hear some concerning noises coming from the kitchen area, knowing only jj was in there makes you stop and wonder why all the banging?, when another loud scary sound can be heard throughout the diner. you run behind the counter and around the corner to see what was making that noise, your eyes land on danny, dead, laying flat on his back on the floor with his face all burnt, bubbling, and bloody. you let out a horrified scream and cover your mouth immediately afterward, stumbling backward a bit and feeling nauseous. 'how did danny even end up back here?' you thought.

you feel your back bump into something, and you let out another spooked yelp, you feel two strong hands spin you around and when you look up, you realize it's only jj. 

"jj, danny...he must have- the deep fryer-" you stutter, and he shushes you "i know, i know."

"we have to call the police! i-is he dead? oh god, i'm gonna be sick..." tears start to fall down your cheeks, terrified and confused by how jj isn't freaking out or doing anything about it. you squirm out of his grip and back away from him.

"jj? did you hurt danny? oh my god, did you burn his face off?" you ask with wide eyes, chest heaving. 

jj nods but he doesn't look remorseful. you start to burst out in tears, unsure of what to do, you look over at the door and back over at jj who gives you a look of warning. he's all sweaty and dirty, his white shirt stained with grease and blood. 

the jukebox continues to play music, where otherwise silence would fill the diner. you decide to make a run for the door, but he beats you to that. jj manages to stand in front of you, clenching his jaw and squinting his eyes. 

"i did that for you, i did it to protect you." he spits, looking down at you in disappointment. 

"you're scaring me jj" you whine.

"why? i think you're being ungrateful." he whispers, looking down at you.

"you murdered him! jj you'll get in so much trouble, they'll know you did it!"

"no, manager man thought i left already..and i'll get him outta here so" he shrugs.

you whine again, eyes moving towards where danny was lying on the ground. jj snaps his fingers in front of your face to get you to pay attention to him again. 

"what you want him? you liked that guy? huh?" he spits out frustratedly. you shake your head no, now too afraid to even speak "what so now im the bad guy? cause i got rid of him for YOU!" he shouts and you flinch, unsure of what to do now. 

"you know what, fine, i think i deserve a little thank you don't you think?" he clenches his jaw again and yanks at your top pulling you to the other side of the counter, overlooking danny's corpse. 

he bends you over and yanks your skirt down, you begin to cry when you realize what he's going to do. "no, jj no, i'm scared please" you sob too frozen in fear to move. 

"you should see what i did with the rest of the bodies" he laughs quietly and reaches his hand around your waist to meanly grab your poor cunt, then pulling your panties to the side. you look down at the bloody dead body again and shut your eyes tight, then you feel jj's fat tip teasing your hole, sliding in your stickiness. "no, you are supposed to be my friend jj! friends don't do this!" you mewl.

he wraps his arm around your neck, trapping you in a headlock when he starts to push in to keep you from thrashing around. "shush, s'fine see? s'fine drama queen." he grunts in your ear, starting to slowly thrust in and out. 

part of you wishes you had the strength to kick him off of you, but the other half is in heaven. "look at danny, you want him? wanna go to the prom with that? hmm?" he taunts, squeezing you tighter in the headlock with his beefy arms when you don't respond which makes you let out a whimpery moan. 

"no! no, i don't wanna keep looking at him! it's making me sick!" you cry.

"i know, i know...grossing you out kinda turns me on though," he grunts again and laughs. he spits in his hand and uses that to sloppily rub your clit. the feeling of his spit mixed with your wetness makes you whine.

he keeps on pounding your pussy, letting you out of the headlock, and pushing your tits to press against the countertop. he smiles at all the little 'uh-uh's' you let out with each thrust. 

"you feel better? yeah? you calm now?" he hums and brings his hand down to smack your ass causing you to squeal and push your ass out almost asking for more. 

"yeah, i know mama, nobody's ever gonna touch you again kay?" his voice soft, making you nod slowly and dazed. 

"say thank you and i'll let you cum." he pressures you, so close to spilling all over him. 

"mmnnm jay-"

"use your manners c'mon" he cuts you off and brings his hand down again to start to rub your clit faster.

"thank you jayjay, thank you-" your cunt pulsing around his dick as you cum hard.

"atta girl, atta girl" he praises, then pushes into you harder than before, filling you up, and pulling out. he tucks himself away and moves your panties back to cover your cunt and to keep his cum and yours pooled in them. he pats your covered pussy and lets out a satisfied hum. 

"go wait by the mall entrance n i'll take you home, jus' gonna get ridda this guy." he pats your ass and walks over to get rid of the bloody body.  ᥫ᭡

[chongoblog]

oooh which RPGMaker game did you mean for wasted potential, if you don’t mind me asking?

I've ranted about it before (I've thought about this game ever since I first played it way back, like, a decade or so ago), but I love yapping so I'll tell it again with the caveat of if I see anyone who follows me finding this game and harrassing this developer, then I genuinely find you to be worse than anything I feel about this game (which I won't even be naming). I have respect for them to the extent where they've still created a game and expressed themselves creatively.

Anyway, this RPGMaker game's big twist is that you play as the main character (whose name we'll say is Tina because I can't remember her actual name), however the main character is aware of the fact that you are controlling her. This leads to a lot of drama between you and the player. The problem arises from the fact that "you" have dialogue that's already been written by the game. So it's not really the main character having drama with you as much as the main character having drama with "you". This can lead to a lot of issues for obvious reasons. For example, from what I remember "you" are portrayed as pretty masc-coded and as a sort of love interest for the main character. That can be fun for some people if they want to insert themselves and have that kind of a relationship (never mind the power dynamic), but odds are there will be SOMETHING at odds with the player and takes them out of the experience. Once that happens, the relationship stops being about the player and the character and it becomes about the character known as "You" and Tina. The other big sticking point I had with it was that it was incredibly railroad-y. This isn't really the fault of the dev, since opening up possibilities would EASILY lead to scope creep, but it is very strange to have Tina go on a diatribe about "oh my godddd I'm no longer in control of my own actions, this is crazy I'm at the whims of some other external force oh no" only for you to try to get Tina to go into A Weird Room and for her to go "hmm...maybe we should find our way out of the hospital and head for My House!"

I've been thinking about this game ever since I first played it. Despite my many complaints (I still have a few others), I still respect them for not only having a cool idea, but putting their energy into executing it. And I've had an idea for how to build on the concept.

Here's the big one: NO Dialogue from the player stand-in. Kind of a classic rule (see your Gordons and Links). But that does lead to some difficulty, since the game's central focus is the relationship between the player and the main character. So how do we communicate with the MC? Through actions.

For example, I've been pondering a sort of combat system for this where it rewards cooperation between you and the MC. Basically, the idea is that throughout the game, you can have the main character learn magic (so long as you walk him to the right places). But the thing is that you only control his BODY. Not his mind (or whatever ethereal power magic comes from). So he manages to break out of your control JUST enough that he can move the fingers on his right hand. Whenever you're in combat with an enemy, he'll put out a certain number of fingers to signify what kind of magic he wants to channel. From there, you can move the MC's body, and depending on how you move their body, they can perform multiple types of attacks. So let's say MC is holding up 3 fingers, which you've been told means he's going to be channeling Fire. Then you can choose his action, whether it be Shield (creates a fire shield), Sword Slash (a burning strike), Punch (a Flaming Uppercut), Arrows (A flaming bow), etc. with each combination of element and physical action having a different effect.

Another one that I've mentioned in the past is that when the game begins the MC would want to know how to address you, to which he says "hey, tell ya what, I can't hear you, so walk me over to that pen and paper and you can write down your name!" and what you write on that paper will determine what the name on the file is called. BUT, you can also walk out of the room without writing your name, at which point the MC will just say "okay fine asshole, I'll just call you Jerkface" and your file's name is now Jerkface.

Anyway, that's my thoughts. From what I've seen it seems like Deltarune might be kind of going in this direction so I'm excited to see where it goes. Even so I might want to give it a try myself. I just need to nut up and do it.

[amywritesthings]

seven days. | part one.

( Read on AO3 )

Pairing: armin arlert x gn!reader (attack on titan / shingeki no kyojin) Word Count: 3.9k Summary: Armin gets bamboozled into joining the annual Yeager family beach vacation — and accidentally meets you.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI - alternate universe (modern), beach house, summer vacation, eventual romance, alcohol, partying, Armin deserves a romcom, Eren & Zeke have zero braincells Credits: dividers by @saradika-graphics

part two. | masterlist

“Zeke, you Point Break bitch, did you steal my boogie board?!”

Ah, yes. 

If he was looking for a week of tranquility and peace, then Armin Arlert should have declined the invitation to join the Yeager family for their annual summer vacation.

Time and time again, Eren has begged his best friend to tag along.

As far as he's aware, this has been a family tradition ever since his best friend was a toddler.

One week, the same week, every single year.

Not to mention it's the same beach house merely two blocks away from the boardwalk and sandy shores.

Home away from home.

It’ll be amazing!

(Eren likes to claim.) 

There is so much sick shit we can do!

(His words, not Armin’s.)

You’re gonna sit on your ass and read anyway, so why not do it by a beach?

(...okay, maybe that sold him.)

Then again, nothing is more humbling than standing with your duffle bag in one hand, filled to the brim with ‘maybe’ shirts and ‘just in case’ medicines, and your pillow in another while the Yeager family chaotically dissolves into a panicked army of four battling to even get to said beach in one piece.

Chaos.

It’s their collective middle name.

“Armin, sweetie, do you want any snacks for the road?”

Carla Yeager — doting mother figure and matriarch of the family.

She’s the reason they’re taking two cars this year, too afraid she may forget something important at home.

From fresh tangerines to a plethora of board games, she’s thought of it all.

Shuffling his bag to give his hands some equal soreness — ouch, that's freaking heavy — Armin offers an apologetic smile.

“No, Mrs. Yeager, I’m fine. Thank you.”

“How many times do I need to tell you to call me Carla?” 

Every time, actually.

Although Zeke very easily calls his stepmother by her first name, Armin can't bring himself to do it.

Blah, blah, raised a certain way by his ever-traditional grandfather, blah.

The awkward blonde merely nods once and watches as Carla shuffles by to throw another box of napkins into the trunk.

“Here,” she gestures, waving her arms while she’s in front of the hatchback, “that looks bulky.” 

It is, but he’s a kindred spirit in the name of overpacking.

“I can find a spot for it,” he promises, but relents when the woman gives him that mom look that straightens out her son and stepson. “I— Thank you, Mrs. — Carla.”

Close enough.

He hands her his duffle bag, careful to spot the bottom of it in a sneaky attempt to help her ease his luggage into the first car.

Boom.

The front door bursts open to reveal Zeke and Eren, shoulder to shoulder, frantically fighting to see who can walk out first.

Grunting, Zeke tries to push ahead with his neon-green boogie board against his torso, but Eren manages to dip at the hip and rush down the steps. 

The momentum nearly knocks Zeke’s oval glasses off the bridge of his nose.

“Could you be normal for two seconds?” the blonde groans.

Eren merely answers by sticking his tongue out and holds up a hand, wiggling his thumb and pinkie back and forth. “Fucking loser.”

Carla immediately glares. “Eren, language.”

“Forking, sorry, forking,” Eren corrects with little remorse.

“Seriously?” Zeke laments as he walks by, squinting at his brother. “What are you, ten?”

“Zeke,” a voice chastises softly from the garage. "Be nice to your brother."

Grisha Yeager, father of the year, rolls out a large cooler to bring it towards the second yet-to-be-filled car.

He’s wearing a Margaritavilla button-down, his long hair tied similar to Eren’s. On his forehead is a tie-dye headband.

“We'll be within close quarters of one another for seven whole days," Grisha reminds in that airy tone of his. "We should hold off on the in-fighting until day four at the very least.”

"I'll give it until day three," Zeke mumbles under his breath as he passes by, shoving his boogie board into the first car and smushing Armin's duffle bag down to half its size.

Yeah.

This is what it’s like to vacation with the Yeagers.

Except when your grandfather gets a new girlfriend, and they go to Key West for the summer, you’re stuck without being able to say no to your best friend’s family.

Seven days.

He can handle the Yeagers for seven days.

.

.

— —

.

.

  It took less than three hours for Armin's pale skin to burn like an overcooked egg.

“It’s really not that bad,” chimes in Eren, mouth occupied by the hair tie between his teeth.

Invading his pessimistic mirror space, the taller brunette dips to look at himself while fixing his staple half-up bun hairdo.

The shorter blonde frowns even further as he checks out his tomato-red shoulders, standing shirtless and shoeless in front of him.

“It looks pretty bad, Eren.”

“Nah. Just slap some aloe on it, alright?”

Ruffling sounds behind him.

Glancing over his shoulder in the reflection of the mirror, a bag of potato chips flies into view as Eren carelessly rips it from the cardboard variety pack — courtesy of the emergency snack stash in the corner of the room.

(The emergency snacks are, quote: So that bitch-ass Zeke doesn't steal the goods.)

The sun-kissed boy walks barefoot to the edge of the twin bed and flops down.

Right.

He forgot to mention he’s sharing a room with Eren, which only makes matters forty times worse.

Two twin beds with doily-esque blankets and flat pillows.

Thank god Armin had the sense to pack his own.

“Besides, the alcohol will make it feel better," Eren adds, chewing on a potato chip.

With a noise of defiance, Armin turns from the mirror to stare at his best friend.

“You do realize alcohol dehydrates a person, right?”

“So?”

“So—” Armin protests tightly, “—it’ll make it worse.”

Eren pops another chip in his mouth, shaking his head. 

“Nah.”

Eloquent as always.

Groaning, he slowly — agonizingly — pulls his pastel blue polo over his aching shoulders and breathes out through his nose.

That SPF 50 was supposed to work, but he must have lost track of time binge-reading his first book of the trip.

A spy thriller, actually, that fell flat right around chapter three and nosedived bad just at the cusp of act three.

The wildly out-of-left-field twist made him so mad that he missed his alarm to reapply another coat of sunscreen, and—

Well.

As a result, human lobster is now on the menu tonight.

Regardless, he promised to go out.

It isn't ideal, but a promise is a promise.

About ten or so blocks away from the beach house is the coveted spot known as The Point.

From what he could gather from Google, The Point is a tiki bar boasting high-top bar tables nestled in sand, recreational volleyball courts, and live music all week long.

It’s about the only lively place in this rather family-friendly beach town.

While not technically a dry town, bars are few and far between and there are approximately a whopping zero nighttime entertainment venues, so The Point was about as wild as any college kid stuck on vacation was going to get.

Earlier, Eren spent most of the car ride to the house hyping it up.

Zeke, in surprising fashion, seemed to hold the same sentiment.

(It’s probably the only thing the brothers could agree upon.)

Plus, Zeke apparently had some surfer friends he’d met online that were going on the first night of vacation, so that solidified the night’s plans.

After showering, dressing, and having family dinner with the parents, it's go time.

A little past nine at night, the three boys walk on the sidewalk in a triangle unit, with Armin trailing behind.

Ever a wallflower he keeps quiet, observing carefully as the two brothers figure out their game plan.

Zeke is anti-shots.

Eren wants shots or nothing at all.

“We’re on vacation, why the fuck wouldn’t you do shots?”

“Because,” Zeke explains, “if you start with shots, then you’re setting yourself up for failure.”

“Yeah, if you can’t hold your liquor.”

“Eren, you just turned twenty-one.”

Eren’s nostrils flare. “So?! I had plenty of practice at university!”

“Is he a lightweight, Arlert?”

Wait.

What?

Oh, shit, they’re including him.

“Be honest,” Zeke adds over his shoulder.

Like a deer in headlights, Armin blinks between the brothers. “Uh… sometimes?”

“What?!”

The yell out of his best friend is piercing.

“You goddamn turncoat!”

“You’re not exactly somebody with an iron stomach, Eren,” the blonde reminds softly as if calming a petulant child, only to wince when he's met with a look of pure anger. “But that isn't to say you can't hold a shot down.”

“Or five,” Eren challenges.

“Three at best,” Armin relents.

“Three and a half.”

Armin squints as they turn the corner leading towards the entrance of the bar.

“In what world does half a shot cou—”

“Wait!”

Eren yelps, holding out an arm to stop Zeke in his tracks.

Armin subsequently also stops — as does his wearing patience.

“I have a solution.”

Zeke pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “And what’s that?”

“Look at me, dude.”

The boy with the man bun demands attention, using his pointer and middle finger to gesture between him and his half-brother. 

“You know what I’m thinking. Give it nine seconds.”

Right.

Not ten, because Eren’s favorite number is arbitrarily nine.

Zeke squints with about as much confusion as Armin’s feeling, but Armin knows by now how this is going to go.

Although they’re born with two different mothers, they’re eerily in sync with one another when they want to be extra annoying. 

Some kind of Yeager sixth sense tying them together; they fall silent, staring—

Then the thought strikes.

Like two brain cells clicking together, they simultaneously grin at one another.

“Jagerbombs.”

Great.

So even worse than a shot or a beer.

That’s all it takes for the two to become best buds as they stroll into the tiki bar like they own the place.

The blonde and brunette zero in on an open spot at one of the several pop-up bar locations at this venue—

—leaving Armin in the dust to fumble out his I.D. to the bouncer.

It's nothing new.

Cover charge? Paid.

Hand stamp? Accomplished.

Careful not to get any sand in his sneakers, Armin treads carefully across the uneven landscape towards the same lively bar as his best friend.

Music thumps right into his ribcage. 

Flashing lights threaten to blind him if he so much as looks over his shoulder to the west.

It’s more than he’s used to.

More than he wants, really.

(What happened to the leisure part of vacation again?)

“We got you one!”

Eren.

Blinking back into his body, Armin glances at the shot glass filled to the brim of Jagermeister waggled in his face. Immediately responding with a grimace, he steps back.

“No, I’ll just grab myself a drink, alright? You two enjoy — that.”

“What?” Eren’s frown is immediate. “Seriously? How else are you gonna get wasted with us?”

I’m not, is what he’d like to argue, but he knows Eren by now.

“What do you mean us?” Arnin shouts over the music. “I don’t see Zeke!”

“He got a text from one of his dumbass surfer bros and ditched,” Eren answers, “but to be perfectly honest, I’m thinking of playing the field tonight.”

“The what?”

“The field!”

“Eren, it’s really hard to hear you when they won’t stop mixing Pitbull with ABBA!”

“What?!”

Oh, this is impossible.

He raises his hands to gently push the shot glass towards his best friend’s chest. 

“You take it and show Zeke you can handle it!” Armin calls back at the top of his lungs, his shaggy blonde hair waving in the wind as he nods with encouragement.

That: giving Eren a challenge.

(Works like a charm.)

Determination spreads across his face. Eren nods, hyping himself up for a double-fisted success story. 

Armin simply nods, too, using the chameleon effect to build up Eren’s trust.

(Maybe he shouldn’t be using his psychology notes against his best friend, but desperate times call for desperate measures.)

“Yeah!”

Eren shouts while dropping the shot into the energy drink left perspiring on the bar top.

“I’m gonna!”

“Okay!”

“And then I’m gonna talk to a girl! Or a guy! Or someone!”

Armin’s eyes shoot wide with surprise, but he chooses not to rain on his best friend’s parade because Eren is already chugging the drink, spilling a little of the Jagerbomb down his oversized black tee.

(Good call, wearing dark colors, unlike Armin’s poorly planned pastel.)

Slamming it down on the bar top with a howl of victory, he pats Armin on the arm and trudges forward to the dance floor to do…

Well, that’s between the power of Charli xcx and God.

“Oh, Eren,” Armin mumbles, watching the little man bun bounce in time with the beat of the music until it’s consumed by dancing bodies.

Turning back to the bartenders, the blonde debates.

Agonizes, really.

He doesn’t drink very often.

It’s not really his thing.

But… when on vacation, right?

(Alone, apparently, since Zeke isn’t coming back anytime soon and he’s going to need to deal with dragging Eren’s drunk ass home in the next two hours.)

“Vodka soda, please,” he sighs, rubbing the back of his neck.

The bartender behind the counter nods his way before pulling out a plastic cup. 

Within a few seconds the simple alcoholic beverage is concocted, and he leaves a reluctant ten-dollar bill on the sliver of the bar that isn’t covered in condensation or sloshed liquor.

He reaches—

Oh.

That’s not a cup.

Freezing in his place, his blue eyes zero in on a pair of fingers entwined with his, nestled on the very same cup.

He can feel them tense under his own slender digits.

Dread. Pure, existential dread.

Apologize, apologize—

“Shit—”

“I’m so—”

“Sorry!”

A stranger’s voice yelps with his in unison.

Before he can move, their hand rips away from his, leaving his fingers to meet with the cold plastic.

His neck cranes to his left and—

Oh.

Oh, no.

You.

Blinking several times to get his wits about him, he can feel his mouth growing dry.

The way the blinking lights illuminate off of your face completely force his train of thought off the damn tracks.

Flickers of blues, greens, pinks — they compliment your face so nicely as each shade seems to highlight another feature that he hadn’t noticed a second before.

He shouldn’t stare, but he can’t help it: you’re drop dead gorgeous.

“It’s okay,” Armin breathes out after holding his breath for some time. “That was my bad. I didn’t see you.”

Your eyes are just as wide as his. “No! No, it was my fault. I thought that was my drink.”

“What did you order?”

“Uh, a hard seltzer? I think?” you answer, scrunching your nose as you respond.

Mayday.

That’s a type of adorable he is not equipped to handle in his sunburnt state.

“You think?” he repeats with a small chuckle.

You move your head side to side, tilting with an uncommitted air about it.

“It’s bubbling, right? Means I’m on the right carbonated track.”

“Yeah, but don’t hard seltzers usually come in cans?”

“Not always at this place,” you correct, before pushing the cup towards him. “I also kind of panicked when I ordered, so sorry for almost being a drink stealer.”

“Trust me, I know a thing or two about panic ordering,” Armin admits with a huff, taking the cup into his hands.

“Yeah?”

You give a carefree laugh that causes his stomach to give an Olympian-grade somersault.

“Is that why you got a vodka soda?”

“Guilty as charged.”

“We’ve all been there,” you empathize, briefly pouting your lower lip. “I won’t judge.”

He’s not nearly drunk enough to deal with this (see: at all) but that doesn’t mean Armin is going to waste his opportunity.

He may be a wallflower, but he’s equal parts an opportunist.

“So you’ve been here before?” he tries instead, hoping you don’t suddenly snatch your seltzer can and walk away.

You do get your seltzer from the same bartender — a slender aluminum can, nothing fancy — but you don’t walk away.

The opposite: you angle towards him.

Shit, okay.

He can do this.

“My friends love this place,” you tell him over the music. He finds himself leaning closer, angling his chin down, so he can hear you better. “So I just tagged along to make sure no one got black-out drunk or made out with anyone weird.”

“A noble effort,” Armin teases, and your eyes sparkle with amusement. “My friends dragged me here, too.”

“Dragged?” you catch with a growing smirk as you take a sip. “I said I tagged, not dragged.”

“Oh.”

Idiot.

Recover.

“I mean, it wasn't — yeah, no, I was definitely dragged here,” Armin confesses, sipping his vodka soda for some liquid courage.

No use in lying to seem cool.

That facade would crumble like a house of cards.

“Partying at The Point not your scene?” you ask without judgment laced in your tone.

Armin nods. “I could be sitting on the balcony reading right now.”

Your brows slide high with intrigue. "Reading?"

Yeah, he should have expected a reaction like that.

The blonde shuffles, shrugging his shoulders.

"I know, lame."

"I don't think it's lame at all," you answer instantly.

His eyes widen. "I— no?"

"Uh, no," you snort. "If I had a choice, I'd probably be doing the same thing."

Oh, shit.

Oh... shit.

So he's not lame, and he found a possible fellow bookworm.

Armin sips his drink so fast that a little dribbles out the corner of his mouth.

Liquid courage; he needs it, badly.

"If you could be home right now instead of here, what would you be reading?" he decides to ask, knowing it's the most unsexy question he could offer.

You scrunch your nose again, seriously contemplating the question while bobbing your head to the music.

"I brought maybe two books? I should have brought more."

He nods eagerly, his blue eyes round with interest.

"I have a romance that takes place in the summer — I know. Very on the nose," you relent with a small huff. "And, uh, this thriller? But I'm not crazy about it, so I'm mostly reading the romance book on the beach."

"I brought a thriller, too," he admits. "Bounty Run."

"Shut up, you too?"

"Huh?"

You laugh, and it's a melody that makes the music at this venue pale in comparison.

"I literally bought Bounty Run last month and never got around to it until now! It's so bad!"

To whatever deity is smiling upon him today, Armin has to thank them.

Not only has he met someone who likes reading, but they think Bounty Run sucks.

Maybe he's hallucinating from the burn screaming through his polo right now.

"It's really bad," he agrees breathlessly with a chuckle.

"Like dogshit terrible!"

"I know. What the hell was Tracy thinking in chapter six?"

"Oh my god, when she decided to call the hostage guy?"

"Yes!"

"Like, I'm pretty sure that's not how those situations work."

"Not even close."

You both laugh, and all Armin Arlert wants is to know every miniscule thought of yours.

What other books you may have read.

If you have any recommendations.

If you're single.

Nope.

No.

He's not Eren Yeager.

He is not his best friend— 

"Are you from here?" you ask over the music, breaking his panicked train of thought.

Armin swallows more alcohol, shaking his head. "No, we're not locals. We're just vacationing."

"So are we!"

"With your friends?"

"My friend's family," you correct, leaning closer to stop shouting so loudly.

He can feel his blood pressure spike exponentially.

"I'm with my friend's family, too," Armin tells you. "Our shore house for the week is something like ten blocks from here."

“For the week? Which way’s your house?” you ask, before holding up your free hand. “Not in, like, a mega-stalker way.”

“Oh, I didn’t take it that way,” he promises, earnest intent pouring from his mouth. “It’s, uh… wait where are we — oh! That way.”

He swivels and points, like somehow that’ll triangulate where the beach starts.

Your chin turns, noting the direction. “So near the… beach? No fucking way, our house is that way, too, but more like a seven-block walk from here.”

Oh.

No fucking way, indeed.

"Seriously?" Armin asks, voice cracking just a tad.

"Yeah! Do you guys camp out on the beach by third street, too?"

He nods almost too eagerly. "We were just there this afternoon."

"So were we," you confess with a light laugh. "Small world! We were both being subjected to that god-awful book and could've warned each other to pick a less shitty book."

"Well, I brought about a dozen books if you want one to borrow."

Way to go, mouth.

Armin tenses instantly as the words pour from his mouth.

"I... you know, just in case the romance book doesn't work out! Or if you're a fast reader! Or if you—"

"Promise?"

Your question cuts through like a knife.

He is in awe.

Enamored.

He'll give you all of his goddamn books if it means you'll talk to him after tonight.

Suddenly your chin drops, and your free hand fishes for your phone in the back pocket of your jean shorts.

A frown tugs at the corners of your lips, causing the blonde to simply wait.

Stare.

Don't go.

Don't go, don't go, don't— 

"Shit, mayday with my friend."

You sigh as if you were expecting a disaster.

Hell, he's expecting one, too, but he's selfishly forgotten about saving Eren or finding Zeke.

"Are they alright?"

"Yeah, just..." You trail off, typing back a response. "They pre-gamed before we came here to save money. I told them not to, but... best laid plans, right?"

"I could give you my number?" he blurts, and your attention leaves your phone.

Your eyes round with surprise, and he feels immense shame in even offering.

Yet—

"For the books," he adds hastily. Shakily. "To borrow. O-Or if you ever want to just... talk about them."

"For the books," you agree, biting your lip between your teeth. "Yeah, sure, give me your phone."

His cup is empty, but he almost drops it trying to yank his phone out of his pocket.

Armin holds it out to you, unlocking the screen. He watches as you pocket your own phone and take his, typing your number into a new text chat window.

This is happening.

This is seriously, actually happening.

"Here," you offer, handing his phone back. "I put my name in."

He glances down, memorizing your name with newfound vigor.

"Okay, perfect. Oh — my name. My name is Armin."

"Armin?" You repeat. He nods. "I like that name."

Suddenly, he likes it, too.

"See you around?" he asks hopefully.

With a parting smile, you take a slow step backwards.

"...yeah, Armin. See you around."

You look just as sheepish as he feels when you turn on a heel, disappearing into the crowd.

For a moment he stands there, dumbfounded — phone in hand, slack jawed —

Hopeful.

Maybe...

Maybe Armin Arlert won't hate spending seven days at the Yeager shore house after all.

.

author's note:

Thank you SO much for reading part one of my little summer story! I've been dying to write a proper Armin fic for a while now, and a casual, warm vacation setting felt perfect for him. This is meant to be a cozy read, so I hope you enjoy my love letter to my favorite boy. xo

How are we feeling after part one? Let me know in the replies! (And thank you for any reblogs, likes, engagement, etc. Every comment gives this writer wings.)

[chlix]

sharpest tool

bf! chan x fem! reader: chan doesn't love you like you love him. you're not planning on doing anything about it

genre: angst, suggestive (but not actually very fun or sexy)

word count: 2.9k

warnings/tags: toxic relationships/situationships, arguing, self-worth issues

a/n: this fic is inspired by "sharpest tool" off sabrina carpenter's new album! i heard it and immediately knew i wanted to write for it. i also plan on doing other songs off the album with other members but we'll see if i get to that before the album loses all relevance 💀

“What’s new with you then?” your coworker Seohyeon asks once the lunch rush dies down. You’re wiping spilled coffee off the bar and she’s pretending to reorganize the stacks by the till, but really, you’re both just trying to look busy while you recover from the last round of customers. Seohyeon has already bitched about her evil landlord and snitched on your manager for critiquing the way the new girl set up the cup display. Now, it’s your turn to overshare. Unfortunately, your life is scant of any juicy details.

“Nothing. You know I have no life outside this job,” you say.

“So not true,” she says. “What about that guy who keeps hanging around waiting for you to get off every day? How’s that going?”

You stiffen. “It’s going.”

She hums sympathetically. “That bad, huh?”

You drop your rag in the bucket of sanitizer water and take a long breath.

“It’s not bad. It’s not really anything right now.”

“You know, I mentioned how he’s always waiting for you, but I haven’t really seen him in a couple of weeks.”

“You and me both,” you mutter. Unwittingly, your hands drift to your phone in your apron pocket, hoping it’ll buzz and you’ll get a text from Chan, as if he’d sense you thinking about him and give you the attention that you’ve been craving. When you first met, the two of you had that kind of psychic connection. It was like you were of one mind. He was everything you wanted in a guy. He still is.

That’s what makes this all so difficult.

The idea of Chan using you as a warm body isn’t inherently distressing. Or, it wouldn’t have been, if he’d posed the idea initially. Maybe if he’d asked you for that up front, then you would’ve known better than to catch feelings. Or at least if you had, then you could take all the blame unto yourself for being softhearted, overly optimistic. He could be blameless. This would be easier if he was a bad person. Or maybe he is, and you just love him too much to care.

“If you want to talk about it, I’m all ears,” Seohyeon says.

“There’s not much to say. We weren’t really even dating. I think. I mean, he doesn’t owe me anything.”

Seohyeon gives you a knowing look, and it makes anything else you were planning on saying stick in your throat.

“Get well soon, girl,” she says, and turns back to the till. You swallow, pick up the bucket of dirty water, and go to dump it out in the sink in the back.

Chan does not come in at the end of your shift and wait for you. Of course not. He does text you, though.

Hey, he says. It’s the first time he’s spoken to you in a week. The casual nature of it swallows you alive.

Hey

Busy tonight?

Never for you <3

My place? 8?

It’s almost pathetic of you to keep falling for the same old trick. Can it even be called a trick if you’re neither fooled nor impressed? You always knew you were just a placeholder, filling in the gaps for when he can’t have the girls he really wants. He doesn’t have to make it so obvious, though.

Placeholder. It’s one of those thoughts that as soon as it crosses your mind, you know you’ve already lost. You’re not sure if Chan realizes that’s what he’s turned you into. You can’t really blame him. You only recently realized it yourself. You’ve been hooking up for months, you’ve been hanging out with his friends, you’ve been posting each other and having cozy nights in with long conversations that last until the early morning. He’s your baby. You’re his girl. But you’re not his girlfriend. Six missing letters and suddenly, you’re the crazy one.

You wonder if Chan knows how these periods of long silence make you feel like a cheap lay, like someone he doesn’t even know. Maybe he does, and this is all an elaborate manipulation tactic that’s working distressingly well. Maybe he doesn’t know, and you’re projecting malice onto his thoughtlessness.

It doesn’t matter either way. You know it, and you’re still going to go.

Ok <3

You put your phone away and start walking to the bus. You need to go home and get ready.

You arrive at his apartment just before eight pm. He hates it when people aren’t punctual, and you hate it when he’s upset, so here you are, shaved and showered and dressed all pretty. You’ve developed a scarcity mindset around him- you need to make sure every time he sees you is perfect because the incidents are so few and far between. You need to look irresistible, so enticing that he’ll be begging to come see you again. It’s so pathetic that you piss yourself off on a daily basis.

You fix your hair and clothes, ring his doorbell. He answers the door, all smiles and muscle tees, and it almost makes you forget that you haven’t seen him since the last full moon. It’s like a thirst that doesn’t make itself known until that first drop of water.

“Hey, baby,” he says, drawing you into his arms. He kisses you deeply, not lustful but loving and you let yourself fall into it.

“Missed you,” he says, low in your ear. He smells like aftershave, like sandalwood and pine.

“Missed you more.”

He pulls you into his apartment and closes the door behind you so he can press you up against it and kiss you again. He licks into your mouth, and you let him, bringing your own hands up to cup his face. The barest bit of his stubble tickles against your palms. His body is warm and solid against you, it makes your knees weak, makes your heart race. For the moment, you forget every grievance you’ve ever had with him. You forget how upset you were at work today, and Seohyeon’s pity, and how empty your phone has been lately. The world outside the two of you might as well not exist.

Chan’s hands slide up under your shirt, pressed against your stomach. Your gut twists.

The illusion shatters.

You pull your lips away from him.

“Chan,” you say, trying to be authoritative, but you’re breathless. He moves away from your mouth and latches onto your neck, and your body reacts without your permission, arching into the touch, but you pull your hands away and press on his chest.

“Chan, stop.”

He lets you push him, taking a step back and looking down at you with blown wide eyes.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’m just…not feeling it.”

“Right, sorry. Didn’t mean to pounce on you. We can move to the bedroom if you want?”

“No…” That sticky feeling is building in your throat again. “I’m just not really in the mood for sex at all, right now.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Awkward silence stretches between you. He’s just looking at you, unsure how to proceed, and you want to die a little more every minute.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come. I’ll just- I’ll go-”

“No, wait!” He catches your arm as you go to turn away. “You don’t have to leave. I’m the one who’s sorry. You shouldn’t have to apologize for something like this.”

“Okay…”

He kisses your forehead again, affectionate and chaste. “I’m glad you came. I wasn’t lying about missing you, yeah? Let’s just have a chill night in.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. We’ll order in. It’ll be nice.”

You let out a long breath and pull him into a hug. He embraces you, and your ear ends up pressed against his chest. You can hear his heartbeat thrumming under his ear, soothing, reassuring.

Okay. Okay okay okay.

You try to have a good night, you really do. You want to be happy when you’re around him, but it’s like a switch has flipped in your head and it’s impossible to truly relax. He orders food from your favorite place without you having to even ask.

“You want your usual?” he asks.

“You still remember my usual?”

“I remember everything about you, love.”

You think about earlier, how he’d known to text you as soon as you got off work yet hadn’t made the effort to actually show up like he used to. You tell him your usual is fine and kiss him on the cheek.

When the food arrives, you curl together on the couch under blankets and put on some show as background noise. There was a drama you were watching together, but he doesn’t bring it up and neither do you. As he pulls up Netflix, you notice the title card in his Recently Watched, but you haven’t been over in so long that you know it can’t be from the last time you were together. He doesn’t pause, skipping over it completely to select another random thumbnail.

“This okay?”

You hum an affirmative and the Netflix logo appears on the screen, signaling the start of the episode. You eat your food and try to focus on how good it tastes instead of how leaden your stomach feels.

As the night wears on, you realize that he’s being cagey. He asks you questions about your life and your job, about your sister and her baby and your plans for the holidays. He’s always been a good listener, always attentive and empathetic and curious. He’s been good at getting secrets out of you as long as you’ve known him.

I’ve never told anyone this before, you would start sentences, but I feel like I can trust you.

You can, he’d respond. I’d never judge you. I care about all of you, even the parts you might not care about yourself.

Always so welcoming, so loving. It had you spilling your guts after only the third date.

I’m rambling, I’m sorry. You don’t need to hear about all my baggage.

Y/n, I want to know anything you’re willing to tell me. Communication is important in relationships. It builds strong foundations.

And yet here he is, only a few months later, dodging all your questions about where he’s been or what he’s been up to.

“How’s work?”

“It’s been alright.”

“You’re pretty busy around this time of year, aren’t you?”

Chan shrugs. “Yeah, but I’m used to it by now.”

You nod around the fork in your mouth, unsure how to continue the line of inquiry. You try again, another topic this time.

“Did you hear about that giant pile up downtown? There were like ten cars involved.”

“I haven’t been watching the news much lately.”

“Well what have you been watching?”

“I’ve kind of had other things going on. Not much time for leisure.”

“Right. You said you were busy with work.”

He doesn’t reply to this. You want to shrink into the couch cushions and coil inside one of the springs.

You eat in silence for a while, eyes flittering between the screen and his face. Once or twice, his phone will ding, and he’ll pick up and scroll through it, shoot back a quick reply. You don’t ask who’s contacting him. When he’s done, he sets his phone face down on the table, out of your reach.

When you’re both done, he takes the empty containers from you and goes to dispose them. His hair bounces as he moves, curling around his ears and the tops of his brows.

“Your hair’s getting long.”

“Is it?” He pulls at a loose curl, stretching it out in front of him critically. “Guess I should get it cut.”

“Nooo, I like it. It suits you.”

He glances at you shyly. “You think?”

“I know. You look adorable.”

“I can’t be walking around adorable. What would that do to my image?”

“Right. Mr. Tough Guy Bang Chan, who always has short hair and thick biceps. There’s a brand image to consider.”

“Exactly! I knew you’d understand.” His cheeks dimple in his smile, but it’s shaky, and it disappears as quickly as it came. “And anyway, I just don’t think…” He trails off.

“Don’t think what?”

Chan stays quiet for a while, lost in thought. You’re unsure whether or not to push, but before you can say anything else, he snaps out of it. He shakes his head as if to clear it and throws an apologetic look your way.

“Never mind. Just getting too into my head.”

Concerned, you rise from the couch and cross the room to his kitchen.

“Is everything okay?”

“Of course. Don’t worry about me.”

“Of course I worry about you. I care about you.”

Chan isn’t meeting your eyes. “Just leave it alone, y/n. It’s stupid anyway.”

“Something bothering you could never be stupid.”

“I said just leave it alone.” His voice is harsh now, face hardened in the way he does when he’s not being nice anymore. He’s putting his walls up and you don’t understand why, and it’s tearing at you, the cumulative weight of all this distance.

“Okay. Whatever then.”

You turn around and start walking back towards the couch.

“Whatever?”

The audacity to sound offended after the way he’s been treating you.

“I can’t make you talk to me. If you don’t want to tell me anything then why keep asking?”

“Don’t be dramatic. I’ve been talking to you all night.”

“No, you haven’t. You’re shutting me out.”

“Shutting you out?” He sounds genuinely confused. You stop halfway back to the living room and turn to look at him.

“Yes, that’s what I said.”

He lets out a short laugh and pushes his curly bangs away from his forehead, hands alight with anxious energy.

“Y/n I invited you over here. We’ve been talking and watching the show. I thought we were having a good night. Now I want to keep one thought to myself and I’m ‘shutting you out’?”

That same twisting in your gut starts up again.

“You’re making me sound so unreasonable.”

“I mean, can’t you see how this looks from my perspective?” He turns away from you and pinches the bridge of his nose, like he’s developing a headache. Like he’s the one being tormented. “Sometimes I feel like you and I are living in different realities.”

It’s like a dagger in your chest. All your indignation leaves you, leaking out of you and pooling at your feet in a sad little puddle of self-respect.

“Don’t say that.”

“I don’t know what else you want me to say.”

You set out of your ring of self-loathing and approach the island where he is, still turned away from him. You reach out a shaking hand and turn him to face you. When you meet his eyes, you see frustration, confusion, and helplessness.

You’re a placeholder. You know it, Seohyeon knows it, the girl he’s been texting all night knows it. It’s possible Chan doesn’t.

That’s fine. You know it, and you’re in love with him anyway.

You press your hands against his chest, leaning up so you can look right in his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” you say. “You’re right. I’ve been on edge lately; I didn’t mean it.” You smile, self-deprecating, embarrassed. “Forgive me?”

Chan lets out a long breath. He grabs your hand and kisses it, then keeps holding on to it, his grip strong and secure.

“Nothing to forgive. I’ve been all over the place too. But we’re here now, together. So let’s just relax, yeah?”

You nod. He leans down and kisses you. The twisting in your gut persists, but you don’t pull away until he does.

“Let’s go finish this episode,” he says, and goes to lead you both back to the living room.

The night feels like a failure. You can’t figure out why, but the thought of just finishing your show and then putting your coat and boots back on and leaving feels like accepting defeat. Your legs are unstable underneath you, but not in the way they were earlier, when Chan was kissing you like his life depended on it. Now, you are standing at the top of a very tall hill, fighting against gravity to remain upright on the slope.

Get well soon, girl.

You close your eyes tightly, then reach forward and grab the back of Chan’s shirt. He jolts, surprised, then turns back to you. You release his jacket as he turns and grab his hand instead, lacing your fingers together.

“Forget the show,” you say. “Take me to bed.”

His eyes widen. “Are you sure? Earlier you said-”

“I’m too in my head. You’re right. I should try to relax. I haven’t seen you in weeks.” You get on tiptoe and lean up to his ear and whisper. “You can make me feel better, right Channie?”

Chan’s fingers tighten around yours. When you lower yourself back onto your heels, he’s looking down at you with dark eyes. You push down your unease, leave it abandoned on the floor with your anger and ego and heartbreak.

“You’re sure.”

“Never surer. Unless you don’t want-”

He effectively silences you by sweeping you into his arms, lifting you up like you weigh nothing.

“Baby, you have no idea the things I want.”

You laugh, shocked at the display of strength, and wrap your arms around him as he carries you away. The last thing you see before he shuts the bedroom door is his phone on the table, vibrating with an unanswered call.

[thesehandsfic]

okay i got three (3), count ‘em, three, asks about this exact same thing so FINE. you've forced my hand (not really, i was always gonna answer). this meta has been peer reviewed (thank you to @neurosses and @parrishwife) and is backed up by certain things in canon that can be interpreted a certain way.

i will preface this with the disclaimer that i’m not trying to say maggie sat down and wrote a D/s dynamic on purpose. i’m not saying everything they do has a sexual undertone. i’m not saying this is the only correct reading of canon. i’m not saying anyone has to agree with me. i’m not saying they engage in a “lifestyle” dynamic involving total power exchange or 24/7 scenarios. if you think i said these things, i didn’t. i'm not even going to run this through the lens of daddy kink, even though i really could and really want to, but we'll stick to the basics: one of them's The Boss.

it’s a general rule of thumb that any relationship between two people has an inherent power dynamic. an intimate sexual relationship involving emotional vulnerability and cohabitation will have a more pronounced power dynamic. it is my opinion that ronan is submissive to adam in their dynamic, and that is they way they both prefer it. ronan is not that way because adam is domineering and he just doesn’t want to argue. adam is not the boss because ronan is lazy and spoiled and won’t take initiative. ronan likes to feel he has someone he can answer to. it stabilizes him to feel as if he is under someone else’s control. adam likes to feel he has someone he can wield control over. it’s gratifying to him to know that he can always go home and boss ronan around. it’s irrefutable this is their dynamic in canon, i just also think it happens to become sexual as their relationship develops.

i don’t want to say “if you’ve never had D/s sex then you just wouldn’t get it”, but if you don’t understand or haven’t experienced a D/s dynamic, then it might be more difficult to see where i’m coming from.

with regard to adamronan, there are some things in canon we can point to in order to support my hypothesis. some highlights:

adam is saved in ronan’s phone as MANAGEMENT

adam behaves possessively towards ronan in public in front of their peers/his friends

ronan lets adam take the lead in many scenarios, including most of their decision making as a couple (even if he doesn’t always like it, re: greenmantle scheme)

adam is described as the instigator/active partner during the laundry room scene in opal

“ronan likes being told what to do, and adam likes to tell him what to do” “adam likes being with ronan because it makes him feel like he’s in charge”

ronan becomes like a henchman to adam (greenmantle plot, the cabeswater team up, sleeping on the floor by his bed, standing between him and the world in a way that won't offend adam's need for independence)

adam is able to set aside some of his more extreme tendencies with ronan, and relax into a dynamic where he is secure in knowing that ronan won't try to usurp or control him

it is additionally noted by several characters in canon that ronan is a follower. he is easily manipulated and turns to men he respects for guidance, even if they are not capable of or have no interest in providing it. they do not have to be good or smart men for him to respect them; they simply must possess a few of the qualities ronan finds appealing.

some specific ronan “tells” regarding his submissive tendencies:

ronan says to gansey “i’ll be waiting right here for you to tell me where to go”

the whole ronsey master/dog dynamic is crazy, actually. ronan responds to simple verbal commands, comes when he is called, acknowledges a snap or a shout as an order, thinks it’s funny when it’s suggested he should be leashed, and it does not bother him (in fact, he is proud of it) that others know he is subservient to gansey. i think ronsey is a nonsexual dynamic, but gansey still fills a stopgap role in ronan’s life when he is in the space between niall’s death and adam’s introduction

declan acknowledges to another character that ronan prefers to be led/guided

he refuses to comply with anyone he hasn't assigned a dominant role in his life, and sometimes pushes back against those he considers "in charge" of him in order to be reminded of his place/the security afforded to him in knowing he doesn't have to be The Boss

there are definitely more but i don’t want to go on about this forever. ronan plays a submissive role in his own life because he was raised to do so. (in the same family, and in stark contrast, declan is the opposite: he plays an overly assertive role in his own life because he was raised to do so.) ronan is submissive to niall, and losing niall so young in such a traumatic way leaves an enormous hole in his life: nobody is telling him what to do anymore, and it becomes a more immediate, pressing need for him to replace that figure. he is also submissive to bryde. in both cases, he is more powerful than the men he allows to control him: niall was afraid of him, and ronan is the reason bryde is alive. bryde's existence as a "dominant" figure for ronan to emotionally roleplay with is undeniable: he was tailor made by ronan’s imagination to fill a gap during a time when he felt alone, absent a domineering male presence (niall still dead, gansey gone, adam on campus, declan in DC).

i also think ronan is a masochist (the tattoo, the constant thrill seeking behavior that results in pain, when ronan was hit he was more alive, etc etc). pain = sensation = pleasure. but that is not what you asked. i just think it's neat.

on the flip side, adam is manipulative, and actively seeks control in most of his dynamics. he constantly butts heads with gansey, and detests declan (initially, specifically for declan's casual shows of power/status). he is sexually attracted to power and assertiveness (blue, greenmantle, ronan). adam is not looking for a doe-eyed pushover to drag around on a leash. he is looking for an equal that he can keep under his thumb. he wants to take someone in a position of power and put himself above them. some specific adam “tells” regarding his sadistic and dominant tendencies:

“i want to take off all your clothes”

“they were both hungry animals, but adam had been starving for longer”

his internal monologue is often about physical desire, though we see it mostly with blue: he wants to make out with blue, he wants to touch blue, he likes blue’s legs and other features. he thinks about them constantly and entertains fantasies in which he gets what he wants from a person he finds attractive.

greenmantle refers to him as a teenage sociopath, TGM refers to the gangsey as “adam parrish and his merry men”

he scries into a dog bowl, he is tied up, ronan basically says “next time choke me in a sexy way” (which could be read as him simply trying to make adam laugh; it works)

he mentions a few times that he knows ronan is attracted to him, and while he isn’t sure at first how he feels about ronan, he knows how he feels about the attention, and he likes it. he holds a power over ronan because of ronan’s feelings, and adam is drawn to that

he daydreams about ronan being a teacher (authority figure) as a means of projecting an inverted power dynamic onto their relationship

i think adam’s a horny little freak, basically. a lot of his narrative is about power and control. adam has virtually no power or control over anything beyond his grades, and even that sometimes escapes him: the abuse causes him to miss class, and ronan is better than him at latin. he can’t change these things. he spends a lot of time coping with his helplessness by daydreaming about when he will be powerful and successful and in charge. i think it gets him off that ronan is basically a cosmic entity who could dream up an atomic bomb big enough to level the eastern seaboard. that is power, and adam is technically the one who controls it: ronan would do whatever adam asked him to do. it’s mentioned in the series that ronan is a weapon/tool, and in the wrong hands he's dangerous, etc. with regard to adam and ronan’s dynamic, ronan is able to fully submit to adam because he is secure in the knowledge that adam wouldn't abuse this: he rarely asks ronan to dream things for him, he is aware of ronan's power and never tries to harness it for himself, he thinks it's impressive and he likes it. i’ve said this before, but imagine what an ego stroke it must be for adam to know he’s literally having sex with some sort of god. adam is in awe of ronan because of what he is capable of, he doesn't seek to use ronan for personal gain.

just because ronan is aggressive does not mean he is dominant. he is textually passive when it comes to things that really matter. all bark, no bite. he is waiting by the door for his master to get home. adam is textually flirtatious, manipulative, and power-seeking. he will hold something in his teeth and shake it until it stops fighting back.

also not for nothing: submitting feels so good. like the relief a submissive person gets from it is crazy. i find it hard to believe that’s not something ronan really enjoys. i think adam also likes that he can’t genuinely hurt ronan. ronan’s a little bit taller and a lot stronger. there’s nothing adam could really do, and even if he did, ronan could and would stop him. with blue we saw adam holding back and hating himself for his outbursts and his temper and his instincts, and with ronan he doesn't have to do that. they are both aggressive people who find aggression cathartic and sexy. i think ronan likes to be told he’s a good boy and i think adam likes to make him cry and then tell him he’s a good boy. put yourself in adam’s shoes and live that for a second: you have total physical control over someone, you hurt them or push them to their limit and make them cry (or otherwise overwhelm them) and then you reward them and tell them that you love them and they were perfect for you and you’re so proud of them. i find it really hard to believe that’s not something adam’s weird little brain would want.

i think the power/control distribution in their relationship is pretty interesting. ronan is wealthy, a bit taller/stronger, placed more highly in society because of his class, has living family that love him, etc, but he doesn't want control. adam has drive and initiative and not a penny to his name, and he wants, more than anything, to belong somewhere. the open space in ronan's life is where adam fits. again, i don't think they have a master/slave dynamic or a 24/7 TPE lifestyle, but i think they both find comfort in knowing that they can give each other what they both need.

kink is theatre; kink is roleplay; kink is wish fulfillment. kink is something people engage in because they get something out of it that they can't necessarily get anywhere else.

tl;dr ronan likes to get ordered around and adam's into ordering him around. and also sometimes he probably ties him up and makes him cry. both of these things are because neither of their fathers loved them in the right way, which left them both unfulfilled and psychosexually stunted, and now they've got complexes so vast and far reaching it's really too bad freud is dead 'cus he'd have a blast with these two freaks. thank god there's gay people and sadomasochism

genuinely am sorry this is so long. if you want the essay about daddy kink, then you know where to find me.

[storiesofsvu]

Decadent Desires Ch 11

Emily Prentiss x fem!reader warnings: language, alcohol, smut, dirty talk. okay y'all apologies I thought life was going upwards and it was going to be super easy to power through a ton of writing but when life throws one bad thing at you beware there will likely be two more coming with it. UGH. I'm going to try to focus on this series for the rest of the week, we'll see how that goes! Thank y'all for sticking around and being wonderful!

Emily was a firm believer in a few things, and putting in over a hundred percent effort when the world was aligning you with a crap day was one of them. If she came to work with a hangover, she worked hard and did her job even better, knowing it was self inflicted and her own fault. On days when she was feeling more run down, exhausted or if she was starting to get sick, she put more effort in. Spent a little bit more time on hair and make up, made sure to wear the right kind of clothes. As much as it would be nice to wear something cozy and lean into the exhaustion, it always made her feel worse. The ‘you look tired’ comments, her complaining about a headache or stuffy nose digging her further into the pity party hole. If she looked her best, she felt better about it, the compliments during the day would help boost her mood and by the time she was clocking out she was re energized.

It was partially that, and her wanting to keep up with the fiery spark that had been launched the previous weekend that led to her decision. Sharing Jackie with you, watching the pleasure you got out of giving another woman pleasure and in a situation where she could actually watch rather than be focused on trying to remember how to breathe. It was utterly enthralling and invigorating and she was more than ready to fully embrace that level of spiciness on a more regular basis. After all, that’s what this type of situation was for, you’d said it yourself, exploration and discovering new things was the highlight of having this dynamic.

So when Emily got dressed that evening, she opted for a more fitted pant suit, leaving just enough to imagination and then reached to the back of her closet. She’d worn the red bodice top a handful of times over the years and it was a trusted favourite, fitting her like a glove, semi sheer lace between the boning, and intricate patterns over her chest with the perfect amount of cleavage pushed up. Even slightly shielded by her blazer it was enough to make anyone take a second glance and the smirk was present on her lips when you all about lost your breath when you laid eyes on her that night, stumbling over your words as you tried to limit the amount of compliments you gave her before you were even seated.

Emily had chosen to mix things up a little bit tonight, enjoy some new scenery outside of the Waldorf, opting to have dinner around the corner at Mastro’s Steakhouse instead. In between moments of conversation and trying not to ogle Emily you had managed to order starter cocktails and get some recommendations from your server before finally willing yourself to look through the menu.

“How do they expect me to choose between the filet and the lamb?” You muttered, chewing on your lip as you read through the enticing descriptions.

“Just get both.” Emily suggested with a shrug and you glanced up to her with a crinkled brow.

“That’s so much food! Not to mention the cost.”

“Cost isn’t a concern.” She replied, a grin on her lips, “eat a bit of each and take the rest to go, quality leftovers.”

Your gaze drifted off to a nearby table, eyeing their plates while you thought it over, “they would be far superior to the leftover pizza in my fridge….”

“Then it’s settled.”

You let out a small breath, a smile creeping onto your cheeks, “do you know what you’re getting?”

“I was leaning toward the lobster tail.” She glanced over at you, “sides?”

“Mac and cheese or scalloped potatoes?”

“Both.”

“Don’t we need a vegetable in there?”

“Last time I checked potato was a vegetable.” Emily replied with a grin and you laughed before agreeing with her.

Meals were ordered and delivered before you knew it, too full from the rich foods you both opted out of dessert, only to be convinced by the server to take some to go. You took your time to finish your cocktails, Emily swiping the bill before you even had a chance to try and look at it. You said a quiet thank you to her, pressing a gentle kiss to her cheek as you gathered your take out bags and made your way out of the restaurant. It was still warm enough outside that you hadn’t bothered with a jacket, summer still clinging to the city, the heat lingering in the night air when you stepped out into it.

Instinctively, your arm slid into Emily’s, her hand finding yours, intertwining your fingers as you made your way through the streets. She let out a soft hum, eyes flickering up to the skyline and part of her wished you could see more stars inside the city, she was lost in her thoughts a moment later, only faintly aware of your hand in hers as you guided her. If it wasn’t for the physical connection and sudden jolt when you stopped in your steps she easily would have walked into the road without looking.

“Hey…” you squeezed at her hand gently, “you alright tonight? You’ve been pretty quiet, kinda off…”

“Yeah.” Emily sighed softly, giving you a small smile as she shook out of it, “I’m just tired and it’s been a pretty long week. I think all this extra running around the city is taking it out of me a bit more than usual.” She didn’t really want to admit being worn down, she certainly hadn’t planned on it but she guessed her walls had slipped down more than she’d meant for them to and you picked up on it before she even realized.

You let out a small laugh, “you know the entire reason we went the direction we did with our agreement was to not have any extra stress or exhaustion, right? We didn’t want to make your to do list any longer or more tedious than it already was. These dates don’t have to be weekly either, remember, I’m not dependant on the money. If you ever want to cancel or skip a week or two I get it, you can stay home and veg out, taking time for yourself and resting is important.”

“I know,” she started, feeling a warmth moving through her knowing that you wanted to make sure she was taking care of herself, even if she wasn’t doing it on her own, “and it’s not just that, work exhaustion is different, I figured I still had enough energy leftover for dinner and I would hate to cancel.”

“Just know you’re allowed to, even last minute. If I already happen to be here I’ll order some room service on your account and call it a night.” You replied with a slight tease, nudging at her side when the light changed so you could cross the street.

“I was looking forward to it, honestly and I do really enjoy spending time with you. It’s such a huge relief to hang out with a fresh face, someone who isn’t part of my team yet still understands the politics of it all.” She let out a breath, nearly muttering the last part to herself, “I guess I kind of just miss my bed…”

You chuckled, “you’re telling me your bed is comfier than the Waldorf? What else have you been hiding from me Agent Prentiss?” You prodded at her side and she huffed, rolling her eyes, “I’m kidding. I get it. Especially with your job, you’re off travelling all week and when you finally do get home you just want to be surrounded by your own things. There’s a comfort and relief about being in your own home and safe space and there’s nothing else like it.”

Emily hummed in recognition, not entirely sure where to go from there or if the conversation was done entirely. She supposed it was, you’d simply asked if she was alright and she thought she’d given an adequate answer, though as you moved down the sidewalk it appeared it only sparked more questions in her brain.

“Can I ask something?”

“Of course.” You glanced to her, a welcoming smile on your face.

“Aside from like, the original safety thing, not wanting to let a near stranger know where you live… why hotels?” She watched for a moment as your head titled, your eyes narrowing as you thought and you shrugged.

“A lot of sugar….” You struggled to find the right phrase, “pairings have outside relationships, either one of them or both. A lot are married, open or not sometimes you never really know.”

“So it’s about the secrecy?”

“To a point.” You nodded, “most of the time having a sugar baby is their way to have a little secret life, it’s fulfilling a fantasy that they wouldn’t be able to achieve in any other way. Living the high life, fancy hotels, expensive dinners, lavish vacations, yacht parties, flying first class or private, it’s all about showing off. Hence why a lot of the babies embrace the look and personality of a hot young bimbo, that’s what the Wall Street guys want to show off to their so-called friends while railing lines of coke with a spare hundred dollar bill.”

“So-called friends?” She asked with a grin and you laughed.

“The ones who don’t care that you’re dangling along some barely self respecting girl to all the weekend parties when your wife is at home with the kids going to the country club with the friends of yours that would rat you out.”

“Ah.” She grimaced and you laughed again.

“They’re not all like that though, some of them just want to experience a little thrill, have a little fun on the weekends. They use hotels cause they’re attempting to create the life they wish they could live all the time; they’ve got a surplus of money because they live modestly otherwise. They might be living in a bare bones, affordable apartment where they cook the same dinner every night before repeating the mundane task of putting on an ill fitted suit and crunching numbers all day. They don’t want their sugar babies to see that because it kills the vibe, shatters the illusion if you will. It’s like.. the separation of fantasy and reality, ya know?”

“Makes sense.” She nodded, letting out a soft sigh as she stalled when you came to the entrance of the hotel. “Feel.. completely free to say no to this, because I know it might be awkward or off putting, but is there any chance you’d be comfortable just coming back to my place? Who cares about the fantasy?”

“You already mentioned waterfront views, I know your place has to be nice.” You teased and she nearly rolled her eyes, biting back a laugh.

“I’m just so sick of not sleeping in my bed right now and honestly,” her voice softened not wanting to be overheard, “lugging toys around the city has become a major pain in my ass. I almost grabbed the wrong go back for work this week and I don’t even want to think about what the ramifications of that would be.”

You let out a laugh, a smile taking over your cheeks as you shook your head at her before leaning in to peck her cheek, “I’m totally fine with that.”

Emily let out a breath she wasn’t aware she had been holding, looking up to you with an almost shy smile, “thanks. Did you want to leave your car here or follow me?”

“I actually took an Uber.”

“Perfect.” Squeezing at your hand softly she redirected the two of you away from the pedestrian entrance to the Waldorf, heading in the direction of the valet instead.

*

Emily unlocked the door to her apartment, guiding you into the entry way and telling you to make yourself comfortable while she locked the door behind herself. The small entry hall lead into a nice kitchen, island facing the open living and dining room combo complete with gorgeous hard wood flooring and stunning floor to ceiling windows.

You stepped out of your shoes, leaving them on the mat at the end of the short hallway, moving through the space as you admired it. There were a handful of case files on the dining table, Emily’s glasses sitting beside them, a blanket strewn over the back of the couch and multiple mugs scattered around the coffee table. Your hand absentmindedly trailed over the back of one of the living room chairs as the view out the windows truly caught your attention. It looked like there was a wraparound balcony, the perfect place to admire the skyline over the river and you could only imagine how stunning the sunsets must be.

Behind you, Emily had tucked the leftovers in the fridge, pulling down a couple of wine glasses after selecting a bottle from the rack. She was about to ask if you were okay with red or if you wanted something else when she glanced over her shoulder, eyes catching you peering out the windows. Something about the way the moonlight cast over your skin, catching the shiny decals in your dress made her completely forget the wine as she remembered her original intentions for tonight. The bottle left abandoned on the counter, she slipped her blazer off, draping it over the back of a chair, fully revealing the bodice as she padded through the room, approaching your back. A hand gently landed on your waist as the other brushed your hair off the back of your neck before Emily’s lips hit the tender skin.

“You like the view?” She murmured, smiling at the way your head easily lolled to the side to give her more access.

“It’s gorgeous.”

Her lips met your skin again, leaving a trail of kisses up it until she nipped at your earlobe, her hands squeezing around your waist. You relaxed into her, a small puff of breath leaving your lips when her teeth sunk into your neck.

“You know, for someone who wanted to skip the hotel, you certainly are eager to get to the bedroom…”

She chuckled against your skin, leaving kisses across the column of your neck and back of your shoulders in between her words when she spoke again.

“That was the plan…show off the place… get you comfortable… have a glass of wine or two… relax…” her teeth pulled at your earlobe again, “but now?” She nudged her nose into your cheek, turning your face back to the windows and with the low light from over the stove there was a faint reflection of both of you in the glass. “Seeing you in front of these windows… I kind of want to fuck you up against them. Let the whole city see how gorgeous you are when you come.”

You let out a quiet moan as her lips pressed into the crook of your neck, her fingers slipping under the straps of your dress, letting them fall over your shoulders. She grabbed your waist again, pulling you tightly flush to her and ground her hips into your ass. Your breath caught in your throat, a surprised gasp escaping your lips as your eyes flew open again, catching her gaze in the window.

“Have you been strapped this whole time?”

She kissed the back of your shoulder, lips twitching up into a grin, “I like to be prepared.” Emily’s finger curled under your chin, turning your face so she could press a kiss to your lips before guiding you to turn around fully to face her. Her hands found the hem of your dress, toying with it, “feel like we should get rid of this.” In one swift movement it was off over your head, dropped to the ground completely forgotten, leaving you in just a pair of barely there panties. “Now… how about you get on your knees for me, hmm?”

Emily reached behind her, grabbing a cushion from the couch to drop at her feet as you did as you were told, bracing your knees on the pillow as you gazed back up to her. Her fingers trailed down your face, cupping your cheek softly as her thumb traced the outline of your lips and you couldn’t help but part them. Her thumb easily slid into your mouth and you were quick to wrap your lips around it, sucking it deeper into your mouth.

“Good girl.” She praised, pulling it out, watching the way your eager eyes followed her hands to her belt, “I want you to touch yourself, get that pussy nice and wet for me while you suck my cock, alright?”

“Yes.” You nodded, bracing up on your knees while she undid her pants, opening them far enough to pull out the toy, stroking it a few times before guiding the tip of it toward your mouth.

Your lips wrapped around the head of her cock, slowly sinking down onto it until it had completely disappeared into your mouth. Your tongue swiveled around it, coating it with your saliva as you slowly pulled off of it, letting it pop out of your mouth and you glanced upwards to catch Emily’s eye. Tongue stuck out you licked her from base to tip, your hand wrapping around it, stroking it to smear the spit around, making sure it was covered in wetness. Your other hand came to rest on her thigh, creeping upwards and she tsk’d at you, her hand wrapping around your wrist.

“What did I say, princess?”

Your hand retreated back to your own body, sinking down it and slipping into your underwear, the tip of Emily’s cock resting on your stuck out tongue as you did so. When your fingers hit your clit you slowly began rubbing at it, a small moan leaving your lips as you eyes fluttered shut.

“That’s it.” She cooed, “that’s my good girl.”

Her hand wrapped around the base of the toy, pushing it deeper into your mouth while your lips wrapped around it again. Your body began rocking in tandem to the pace of her hips, grinding down onto your hand as you continued to sink her cock into the back of your throat. She could hear your whimpers and whines getting louder and more frequent, muffled by the toy in your mouth as you continued to play with your clit. Driving her cock deep into your mouth, she let out a soft groan as the base of the toy pressed against her, your breath hot on her skin.

“You take me so well.” She praised, her hand cupping the side of your face, thumb stroking at your cheek as you let her cock drop from your mouth with a gasp. Your body shuddered, thighs squeezing together as you let out a whimper and she chuckled. “I know princess, it’s hard to multitask, isn’t it?”

“Fuck…” you muttered, leaning toward her again but her finger tapped your chin, signalling to shut your mouth.

“How wet is that little pussy of yours? Let me see.”

You slid your fingertips through your folds, gathering up your juices before pulling your hand out of your panties and lifting it up. Emily’s hand wrapped around your wrist, examining the way your fingers glistened in the moonlight before tugging your arm gently and you nearly scrambled to your feet. Your eyes widened when her lips wrapped around your fingers, a moan coming from her throat as her eyes shut for a moment.

“Always so sweet.”

“Thank you.” You murmured, your chest practically heaving in anticipation, watching as a dark gleam took over Emily’s eyes.

“Turn around,” she twirled her fingers and you did as she asked, “brace yourself on the glass.”

Taking a couple of steps forward your hands met the cool glass, a shiver running through your body as you looked out over the city. Emily’s fingers tugged your thong down your legs and as you kicked it off you couldn’t help but shiver again, feeling entirely exposed. You knew no one could see you at this height, but the thrill of being completely bare pressed up against the glass while Emily was still dressed sent a thrill through you, your cunt pulsing already.

Behind you, Emily crouched down, her hands sliding up the back of your thighs, spreading your legs, thumbs sliding up your pussy, smearing your juices. She let out an appreciative hum before leaning in, tongue lapping through you and you gasped. Her mouth wrapped around you, sucking your juices, getting a better taste of you before standing upright again, an arm wrapping around your waist.

“You’re so wet you’re practically dripping down your thighs.” Her lips met the crook of your neck again, “you must really want to be stuffed with my cock, hm?”

“Oh god, please.”

“Well then I guess it’s a good thing you’re so good to me princess.” Her hand wrapped around her cock, spanking it against your cunt and you shivered in her arms.

“Please Emily…” you whined, “please fuck me.”

The head of her cock nudged at your pussy, a shuddering breath escaping from your throat as she teased you for only a second before plunging it into your cunt. She sunk in halfway before pulling out and sinking back in the rest of the way until her hips met your ass. One of her hands stayed wrapped around your waist, holding you steady while the other braced herself on your hip.

“You like that?”

“Mmhmm.” You nodded furiously as she picked up the pace, cock thrusting deeper into you with each push of her hips, “god.” Your hands scrunched against the glass, aching for something to grab onto, “so fucking deep.”

Emily gave you a particularly sharp thrust, the air in your lungs breaking free in a sudden gasp that morphed into a moan as she hit even deeper inside your pussy. Your body pressing up against the glass, a cold sensation taking over your chest, nipples rubbing the window as heat coiled within you, wafting off Emily’s body behind you. Your pussy was squeezing around her, you could feel and hear your wetness smearing around the toy, noises matching your moans as she fucked you. With each thrust your body rubbed against the glass, nipples hard swollen at the friction as your body ached for more.

“That’s my pretty girl.” Emily husked, her breath hot on your neck as her free hand slid up your back, tangling into your hair and she pulled.

You let out a gasp, nearly whining at the way her fingers tugged at your roots, pulling your head back so she could hear the way your panting was getting louder. Your back arched heavily, hips pushing back towards Emily with each powerful thrust of her hips, ass bouncing when she sank fully into you.

“F-fuuuck!” You cried out, pleasure shooting through your body, “m’close!”

“So fucking hot like this princess.” She groaned, the hand she had wrapped around your waist sunk south, playing with your throbbing clit and you whimpered, your hips faltering as she fucked into you faster. “Come for me, want you to squirt all over my cock.”

It was too hard to get anymore words out, strangled moans and whimpers were all that would leave your throat, your lips wide and eyes scrunched shut. Each time Emily’s cock dragged through you it hit your g-spot and when she pressed your clit harder, your body jumped, a loud cry leaving your lips as your orgasm burst through you. You could feel your pussy clenching down hard around the toy, a gush of juices bursting around it, dribbling down your thighs.

“That’s it baby…” Emily cooed, her hands running up and down your sides as her hips slowed, fucking you through your orgasm, “so fucking good for me.”

Your forehead gently dropped to the window, a small fog forming on the glass from your panting as you began to catch your breath, body still quaking with aftershocks. Emily slipped out of you and you could hear droplets of your juices hitting the floor, dripping from your cunt and her cock. A gentle kiss was placed between your shoulder blades, hands squeezing at your waist making sure you were okay before the warmth of her body briefly disappeared from behind you.

A dishtowel hit the floor and an arm wrapped around your waist, tugging you to collapse down on the couch. Somewhere in there a shirt was pulled over your head, a blanket pulled up around the two of you as Emily wrapped around your back. You could feel her now bare legs on yours, the lace of her bodice softly scratching at your skin.

Your eyes fluttered open, a soft sigh leaving your lips as you took in the skyscape outside the windows, glittering stars in the horizon. Emily’s arm loosely hung around your waist and your hand found hers, giving it a soft squeeze before tickling up and down her arm, tracing patterns on her soft skin. In return she left a kiss on the back of your shoulder. You weren’t sure just how long you stayed like that, watching the night sky before Emily finally spoke.

“Did you want to stay? Or should I call a car?”

You let out a happy sigh, rolling over to face her, “I’m pretty sure there’s dessert in those take out bags and I remember hearing something about a bottle of Bordeaux.”

She chuckled softly, happy to extend the night even further, “you’re not wrong on either of those accounts.”

__________________

@mickey-gomez @momlifebehard @daddy-heather-dunbar @maybe-a-humanbean @rustyzebra @leftoverenvy @kades95 @dextur @supercriminalbean @emilyprentisssluvr @lex13cm @zizzlekwum @emobabeyy @riveramorylunar @scorpsik @onmykneesformarvel @inlovewithemilyprentiss @regalmilfs4me @ara-a-bird @inlovewithmiddleagewomen @kmc1989 @irishavengersassemble @hopedoesntknow @venromanova @waitaminuteashh @noahrex @imlike-so-gaydude @wittygutsy @cx-emerald-cx @momily @nilaues @borinxnovak @Soverign @v3nusxsky @mccdreamys-writes @l4yne @obsessedwjill @supercorpstan97 @asolitaryrose3 @lisqueen @mrs-prentiss @whitewinewithice @d33pd3sire-blog @daffodil-heart @maximoffcarter @i-lovefandom @chimnlex @moonlightjxuregui @chestnutninny @gamma-rae-bursts @just-moondust @idkifimasub @gaydragonwitch @dowsedwithbleach @divergentalwaysandforever-blog

[woso-dreamzzz]

Breakfast II

Ellie Carpenter x Daniëlle van de Donk x Child!Reader

Summary: Your pitch check is interrupted by someone familiar

You rub your eyes as your Mamma unwraps the sandwich she'd packed for you. Honestly, it's a bit too early for you to be fully awake because you and Ellie went out to the cinema last night while Mamma did media stuff for the club.

You didn't particularly want to join in on the pitch check (it was the same pitch as usual) but Mamma had lured you with the promise of food and a nap before the game started.

"Ellie, no," You whine when Mamma's girlfriend tries to take a piece," It's mine."

"What?" She jokes," You can't share?"

You wrinkle your nose at her. "No."

"Oh, come on!"

You stick your tongue out at her and she laughs, mushing your hat further down on your head so it almost covers your eyes.

"Ellie!"

"What, I didn't do anything!"

"Mamma! Ellie's eating my food again!"

"Daan, don't listen to her! I was only joking!"

Your Mamma made a point of ignoring you both and letting you squabble between yourselves. You had gotten better with Ellie as time went on and now all of your arguments were small and over little things rather than what the big battles they used to be.

"Alright! That's it!" Ellie grabs you suddenly, flipping you over her shoulder in a fireman's carry, making sure to bounce more than necessary as she runs to catch up with Daan.

You shriek at the movement and Mamma smiles fondly at you as you try to reach out for help. She just holds your hand in hers, swinging it between your bodies as Ellie munches on your sandwich, leaving half it for you.

"Ellie!" You laugh as she spins around quickly before dumping you on the floor, where you stumble around dizzily for several seconds before slumping to the ground.

"Mamma!" You say," Ellie's being mean again!"

"And what do you want me to do about that?" Mamma teases.

You pretend to think for a moment. "You should tell her off! Or...Or do the same to her!"

Both Mamma and Ellie laugh at you.

"I'm being serious!"

Mamma runs a hand through your head and offers you back your sandwich. "We'll see," She says finally," If Ellie's being mean later I'll definitely tell her off."

You stink your tongue out at Ellie in triumph, who just rolls her eyes at you.

"I'm bored," You declare not even five minutes later as you walk between your mother and her girlfriend," Can I get a snack?"

"Is the food I feed you not enough?" Mamma asks with a wry smile and you give her a deadpan look.

"Snacks? Please?"

She sighs like you've greatly inconvenienced her even though you all know that she's joking. She fishes some money out of her pocket and send you on your way.

"I want a chocolate!" She yells after you.

"And get me a drink!" Ellie yells too.

"Get your own, Ellie!" You answer her with your own joking smile as you scamper back inside to the nearest vending machine.

You have to stand on your very tiptoes to reach the higher numbers but you manage to get your snacks, Mamma's chocolate and Ellie's drink - although you know that you won't be letting her get it off you so easily.

"Well, well, well," A familiar voice says from behind you," If it isn't the littlest van de Donk. Fancy seeing you here!"

"Leah!" You exclaim, running into her arms.

"Hey, there!" Leah hugs you back tight and ruffles your hair. "Long time no see."

"You're playing Mamma soon!" You tell her and the other Arsenal girls who yell out their own greetings to you.

"We are," Leah agrees before nodding to the treats in your hands," Is that for me?"

"Actually, Leah, I'm pretty sure they must be for me," A very familiar voice joins you and you turn to look at Beth.

Mamma and Beth were together a long time before Mamma got with Ellie. Beth used to take you to school and help with your baths at night.

When you and Mamma left and they broke up, you didn't hear from Beth anymore.

You're not too sure how to react to her so you just smile politely and scamper off back onto the pitch. You break out into a sprint the moment you can't hear the Arsenal girls. You can't find Mamma anywhere.

It's like she's disappeared on you.

So, you run to the next best thing.

Ellie is talking with Lindsey and she almost loses her balance when you crash into her.

Lindsey laughs. "Alright there, roadrunner? Meep, meep!"

But Ellie just looks at you with a frown, taking in the way your shoulders are rising and falling and you send worried glances back at the tunnel.

"Whoa, whoa," Ellie says," What's going on?" She follows your gaze. "What happened?"

"Where's Mamma?" You answer with your own question," I...I want Mamma."

"Daan's doing an interview," Ellie answers," Why?"

You look up at Ellie with wide eyes. "Mamma and Beth used to date."

"Yes?"

"Beth's here," You continue," But I haven't talked to her in a while. Do I have to be friends with Beth because she and Mamma used to date?"

Ellie pulls you into her arms, squeezing you nice and tight against her. "You don't have to be friends with anyone you don't want to."

"Who isn't she friends with?" Mamma appears behind you, looking a little confused. The snacks you got are scattered on the floor and you're hugging Ellie just as tight as she's hugging you - something that never really happens and never in public like now.

"Beth's here," You say," Do I have to be friends with her?"

Mamma misunderstands you. "You can still be friends with Beth if you want."

You shake your head and try to explain more but Beth's approaching and you find yourself sliding behind Ellie.

"Hey, Daan," Beth says, hugging Mamma, who hugs her back," Ellie." She smiles at you. "It's good to see you, y/n."

You smile politely again and busy yourself with opening your packet of sweets. Your hands are shaking slightly and you can't think why.

You know Beth.

You like Beth.

But her presence and smiling face still makes you feel nervous.

You lean some of your weight against Ellie, whose hand immediately clamps onto your shoulder in comfort.

Mamma and Beth talk for a while but Ellie keeps you busy and distracted by letting you take long chugs of her drink - even though it's very sugary and Mamma would never let you have it if she hadn't been talking to Beth.

"She's gotten so big," Is what Beth's saying when you tune back into their conversation," I remember when she was tiny. Does she still like being carried on your hip?"

"She likes riding on shoulders," Ellie cuts in when she notices you tense at Beth reminiscing," Don't you?"

You nod. "I'm too big to sit on Mamma and Ellie's hips."

Beth looks at you a little strangely for a moment before nodding with a little laugh. "God, you used to follow me around all the time. I miss my little shadow sometimes."

For you ears early, Ellie mutters," But not enough to call every once in a while." She spoke a bit louder for Mamma and Beth to hear too," She doesn't really like following anyone around anymore." She pokes at your cheek teasingly. "She's too independent."

Mamma rolls her eyes. "Independent?" She gives you a toothy smile, leaning down to kiss your head. "You crawled into bed with us last night because Ellie took you to a scary movie."

"It wasn't a scary movie!" Ellie defends," It just had a few freaky parts! It was animated!"

"Ellie told me too!" You say quickly," She said that I could sleep with you!"

Mamma laughs, ruffling your hair. "So I have Ellie to blame, huh?"

"We're partners in crime," Ellie says and you burrow into her side with a silly grin," Me and her forever."

You catch Beth's eye. She looks a little misty-eyed and you can just tell that she's thinking of the little girl you used to be and not the you that's standing in front of her now.

But you're not that little girl anymore and you look away to face Ellie, who is happy to meet your eyes and take your head in hers.

You're very clearly still feeling awkward around Beth, especially as she reminisces about how little you used to be when she first met you, so Ellie pulls you into her side.

"Hey, Daan," She says," Me and my partner in crime are going to head back inside. My drink's done."

"Are you getting more snacks out the vending machine?" Daan teases and you look up at her with an innocent smile. "Oh, don't give me that look!"

"What look?" You tease.

Mamma pokes at your cheek. "That look. You want me to bankroll your snack spree."

You bat your eyelashes at her. "Is it working?"

Mamma laughs, slapping a small wad of cash into your hands. "Don't go crazy. You'll get a stomach ache." She points at Ellie. "I mean it."

Ellie winks and presses a kiss to Mamma's cheek before hoisting you up onto her shoulders. "Bye Daan!"

"Bye Mamma!" You say, waving as Ellie carts you away," Bye Beth!"

[cyberstudious]

2025, week 2 (jan 6th - jan 12th) ☃️

This week felt much smoother than last week. All the holidays are done, I'm back in a routine, and I'm generally feeling pretty good. I started a new project at work & it's going well so far. I've been using pomodoro timers for forever, but I've learned that putting on a study with me video is helpful in keeping me focused. The hardest part is getting started, but once I get going, I can do like three solid 50-minute pomodoro sessions and get a lot done.

One of my next tasks for work-related training is to get the NVIDIA AI Infrastructure & Operations certification. The course is less than 10 hours of material, so my goal is to get it done by the end of February. I'm hoping that the course material is more actual technical content and less NVIDIA marketing material, but we'll see. I put together a study schedule and I shall attempt to stick to it 😅

For my language learning goals, I want to start by focusing on grammar. I struggle with Dutch word order a lot, so I need to just sit down and formally learn the rules. With Spanish, I've forgotten most of the formal rules but I remember enough to put sentences together based on vibes, which is… not ideal lol. I studied pretty casually this week. The planner I ordered to use as a language study planner is supposed to arrive tomorrow (👀) so I'm excited to really start getting back into language learning.

accomplishments this week:

I finished the Google Generative AI for Developers course (my overall impression of the course is meh, I'm glad to be done with it)

I had my biannual review at work and it went smoothly ("biannual review" sounds fancy, it's basically just a chat with my manager lol)

I reached 6.5k words in my current WIP

I reviewed the first chapter of the Dutch grammar book I'm using

I did a quick review of basic Spanish grammar

highlights from the week:

taking a walk through a nearby nature trail & looking at all the little snowmen that people built

thrifting with my partner & getting dinner at our favorite taco place

listening to spotify's acid jazz playlist a lot

watching some episodes of game changer that I hadn't seen before