#word count: 1543

[halsteadlover]

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐘𝐨𝐮

• Pairing: Jay Halstead x Fem!Reader.

• Requested by @hart-kinsella: Maybe him and mc are working undercover (but they're married in real life) and a guy tries too hard with her (takes her by the arm and invades her personal space as well as trying to flirt with her with words) and then Jay tells him that and punches him. They could be at a club like that one episode when he and Hailey (and Kevin, maybe? I don't remember exactly) were undercover - unfortunately I don't recall which season it was.

• Warnings: mention of drugs, violence.

• Word count: 1543.

• A/N: I know this is not my best work and I apologize 😭 but I managed to quickly write it so I can post something ❤️ and tell me why I stayed for half an hour staring at the wall to think about a title and I ended up with this one 😭 btw love you all and thank you always for your support

It was no secret Jay sometimes hated undercover missions. Especially if you were involved.

He couldn’t help it. He knew you were an amazing cop, one of the best he ever worked with, capable of defending yourself in any circumstances but since you were also his wife, he couldn’t help but worry about you.

And this case was no different.

You and Jay were undercover due to a drug trafficking case, him as a potential buyer interested in purchasing the drugs, you as his work partner who had set up the connection with Joshua Ryder, the criminal suspected of being the gang’s leader.

Jay was on the verge of losing his mind, not being able to stay still and acting like nothing was happening.

You were both in a club, sitting in a VIP room while you talked with Ryder and convince him to make a deal with you. The rest of the team were instead in some fake company’s vans listening to your conversations in real time.

However, things started to go wrong when Jay noticed one of the traffickers approaching you in a way he didn’t like at all.

“Are you here to do business or watch her like a hawk?” the gang leader had insisted for the umpteenth time while for the umpteenth time Jay directed his gaze towards you who continued to giggle with fake enthusiasm with one of Ryder’s henchmen.

You were uncomfortable, as with any mission that involved getting close to another man other than your husband. You knew it was your job, that you had a duty to fulfill and your private life had to stay out of it but sometimes it wasn’t that easy.

“You sure you don’t want anything to drink, sugar?” Asked the man who insistently continued to hit on you. You didn’t even know his name – or care to know – but you smiled anyway with fake naivety, slightly shaking your head.

You quickly glanced at Jay who was sitting in front of you, noticing he was busy talking to Ryder, but his gaze met yours for a moment. It was brief but in that simple look you understood he too had noticed that guy’s insistence. Jay had his arms crossed over his chest, breathing heavy, his jaw clenched as he saw how this man insisted on getting closer to you.

He was disgusting, he smelled of alcohol from miles away, and you had to repress the urge to vomit and the instinct to punch his ugly face.

The man approached further, sliding on the sofa towards you and you moved back, trying to create further distance but without making it obvious and making him suspicious.

“You know, my boss is quite jealous of his employees, you shouldn’t be so close to me,” you falsely giggled but he didn’t seem to get the hint, in fact, it seemed to amuse him even more.

“We’re all one big family here darling, what’s mine is someone else’s and what’s someone else’s is mine…” He rested an arm on the back of the sofa behind your shoulders and although he hadn’t even touched you, you felt your skin crawl and the urgent need to throw yourself into an acid bath. “If you want to do business with us your boss will have to learn how to share… Especially with such a beautiful and gracious girl like you.”

The desire to kick him in the balls was intense and you wondered what kind of woman would really fall for these words.

Jay was on the verge of losing his mind.

He was trying.

He was really trying but it was so fucking hard to stay still and not react when that son of a bitch was being a creep with his wife. Ryder was talking to him about something he didn’t even care about, but he couldn’t pay attention and process a single word, too focused on you.

He couldn’t help but glance at you every now and then, running a hand on his jaw in frustration and starting to fidget on the spot as he saw the man getting closer and closer to you and invading your personal space, like touching your hair or caress your shoulder.

It wasn’t jealousy, he could never be jealous of a filthy man like him but he deeply hated not being able to do anything to keep you safe without ruining the whole mission. He hated seeing you so tense and uncomfortable although from the way your hands were balled into fists in your lap, he knew you too were itching to punch him.

He hated having to pretend you were simply his work partner and not his wife.

But he swore he saw red when that man’s clammy hand rested on your face and your eyes widened at the contact as your entire body froze in place.

Fuck the mission and these motherfuckers too.

Jay lost control.

That slimy hand on you had driven him crazy and before he knew it, he had stood up and grabbed the man’s hand with his, punching him in the face with all the strength in his body. He didn’t catch the gasp that escaped you and he didn’t even care he had just ruined any chance of doing ‘business’ with Ryder along with the possibility of framing him. While his fist hit that bastard again and again, all he could do was think of those hands on you.

“That’s my fucking wife you motherfucker!” Jay screamed in his face, holding him by the collar of his shirt as the man spat out blood, struggling to keep up with the fury of the undercover detective. “Let me catch you again putting a hand on her or even just looking her way, I’ll enjoy breaking your fingers one by one before throwing you in jail.”

Everything was now chaos.

The team, who in the meantime had witnessed everything through your hidden cameras, burst in when they realized the situation had now worsened to the point of no return. You tried to pull Jay away from the man, but it was totally useless, not when he was so furious that your strength was no match for his.

Ryder was fuming when he realized you were cops and you had tried to frame him, swearing he’d make you pay dearly while Kevin handcuffed him along with the rest of his goons.

“Baby,” you called back but Jay didn’t look at you right away. You stood outside the club under Voight’s orders, a hand on his bicep and caressing him as you tried to get his attention. You were alone in a little corner, waiting for your boss for his inevitable fury.

“You okay?” He asked, his voice low but finally focusing his gaze on you.

You let out a laugh trying to diffuse the tension, you hated seeing him so furious. “You are ask me if I’m okay? I’m not the one who just punched a guy.”

He sighed, tearing his eyes away from you as he ran his hands over his face with frustration. Your heart clenched at the sight of his red and bruised knuckles. “I wish I had killed him to be honest.”

“Jay I don’t want you to get hurt because of me,” you replied, taking his hands in yours and leaving a kiss on the back of them, smiling when you saw his hard features start to soften at the gesture. “I could’ve handled him, I wouldn’t have let him go any further.”

“I know you could baby, you’re amazing,” he softy spoke, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. He took a step towards you, closing the distance enough you had to slightly lift your head up to look into his eyes. “But there’s no way on earth that I would have sat there and watched while that son of a bitch put his hands on you.”

He cupped your face with his hands, his thumbs caressing your heated cheeks. “No one gets to put a hand on you, much less against your will. You’re my wife, I’m the only bastard who can touch you and I will gladly kill anyone who dares to do it instead of me, am I clear?”

You let out a breath, almost on the verge of passing out right there and now in his arms. “God baby I want to suck your dick so bad right now. I love when you get so protective of me, it’s so hot.”

Jay burst out laughing, his stomach clenching in anticipation knowing you would stand by your words. He pulled you into a hug and you rested your head on his chest as you wrapped your arms around him. “I’ll always keep you safe, I won’t let anyone touch a single hair of your head, I hope you know it. God knows I would set the city on fire to protect you.”

“I know baby, I love you so damn much it’s insane,” you deeply inhaled the smell of his cologne, leaving a kiss on his shirt coated chest. “But I hope it’s worth it because Voight is coming and I think he’s ready to take us both out,” you continued when you broke away from the hug and saw your boss coming up behind Jay, a furious look on his face.

“Oh yeah, it’ll always be worth it, especially for the amazing blowjob you’ll give me later.”

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[d-targaryenshoe]

Forgotten Destiny - Anthony Bridgerton

Summary: When one wants a thing it does not mean the other lover would want the same thing, is it not?

Word count: 1543

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the sky into a tapestry of fiery reds and oranges, Anthony Bridgerton paused in his work, his pen hovering above the paper. 

He glanced at you, as you were sitting primly on the edge of his desk, your delicate features set in a familiar expression of determination. 

Your argument had been raging for the better part of an hour, and it showed no signs of abating. 

The air in the room seemed to crackle with tension as if a storm were brewing, waiting for the right moment to break free.

You leaned forward, your voice taking on a pleading quality that only served to enrage your husband further.

 "Anthony, I am your wife," you said, "and I am begging you to reconsider. We have three healthy children, which is just fine to me."

Anthony bit back a retort, unable to understand how you could be so content with your current situation. 

"But y/n," he said, his voice strained, "don't you want to give our children the gift of another sibling?"

You sighed, your gaze drifting to the floor for a moment before meeting his eyes again. "Of course I do, but yet I still think we shouldn't."

Anthony frowned, his eyes narrowing. "But why? What's the problem? You know that I can provide for any number of children."

You hesitated, unsure how to put your concerns into words. You glanced around the room, feeling a sense of overwhelm. 

Your house was beautiful, yes, but it was also filled with so much noise and activity. 

Three children were a handful even when they were well-behaved, and you worried that another one might push them all over the edge. 

"Yet it is my body, Anthony," you began.

He looked up sharply, his expression softening. 

"I understand that, dearest. I do not take your sacrifice lightly. But I feel like we are such a close family, and I want our children to have the same bond that we share."

You sighed, running a hand through your hair.

 "I know you do, but sometimes I feel like we lose ourselves in being parents. I want to be a wife to you too, Anthony. I want us to have time for each other, just the two of us."

Anthony's eyes widened at this admission. He hadn't realized how much you had been craving your alone time. 

He set his pen down on the desk and reached across the space between you, taking your hand in his. "You and me talking in my office isn't the same as spending time together?"

 "No, it's not the same. This is us being parents, have a good night, Mr Bridgerton." You snapped before walking away and smashing the door closed.

Anthony sat there for a moment, stunned. He couldn't believe you had just left him like that.

 He watched your retreating figure until you disappeared around the corner, and then he let out a frustrated growl. 

He knew you were upset, but he couldn't help but feel like you were being unreasonable.

The next morning, Anthony awoke to the sound of one of the servants knocking on your door. 

He groaned, rolling over and burying his face in the pillow. It had been a restless night, plagued by thoughts of you and the argument.

 He wished he could just apologize and make everything better.

When he finally dragged himself out of bed, he found you already dressed and sitting at the breakfast table, sipping your tea. 

Your expression was still stony, but he couldn't help but feel a pang of hope at the sight of you. 

He walked over to you, took a seat across from you, and gave you his most winning smile. "Good morning, my love. I hope you slept well."

You looked up at him, your eyes guarded, but not answering or saying a single word.

Anthony frowned, feeling the tension between you grow tighter. "Y/n, please," he said, reaching across the table to take your hand. 

"I know we didn't part on the best of terms yesterday, but I truly am sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel like you're not important to me."

Your eyes met his, and you retreated your hand, going back to reading Lady Whistledown's new gossip.

Anthony sighed, feeling defeated. 

"Y/n, I truly am sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel unimportant. I just want what's best for our family. I want us to have another child, but I also want to make sure that we don't lose sight of the love and connection we share."

You looked up at him but turned your head towards the butler who stood at the door. "Finley, would you mind cleaning the table, It just got to me that I had a talk planned with the Duchess of Hastings."

Anthony frowned, his eyes narrowing. "And what would you like to discuss with her?" he asked warily.

"I'll be back in an hour or two for tea, Finley, thank you very much."

Daphne Bridgerton rose from her seat when you entered the sitting room, your graceful movements a testament.

 "Y/n, how wonderful to see you!" she exclaimed, giving you a warm hug. "It's been far too long."

You smiled, returning Daphne's embrace. "It has been, hasn't it? I do apologize for not visiting sooner. I've been rather busy with the children."

You sat down on the plush sofa, and a servant immediately brought in a tray of tea and biscuits.

 Daphne poured you each a cup, taking a sip before asking, "So, how are things going with you and Anthony? I must admit, I was rather surprised when Mama said he wanted another child."

You took a deep breath before answering. 

"He does...at least he does," you admitted. "Anthony is so focused on his duty as a Bridgerton, we've been arguing about having another child."

Daphne raised an eyebrow. "Oh? have you?"

"Well, Anthony is headstrong that we should try for another as soon as possible, while I want to enjoy the time we have together as a family before we add to it."

"I see," Daphne said thoughtfully, taking another sip of her tea.

 "It's a difficult position to be in, isn't it? On the one hand, Anthony is right in wanting to continue the Bridgerton line, but on the other, you both need to consider your happiness and the well-being of the children you already have."

You nodded, your eyes downcast as you toyed with your teacup. "Yes, it's been rather strained between us. I feel like he doesn't see how important it is for us to have that time together."

Daphne smiled sympathetically. "Well, I can understand where he's coming from as well. Anthony is a devoted father and husband, but he's also a man of duty."

Anthony cleared his throat as he entered the room, his eyes immediately darting between you two. "Ah, I didn't mean to interrupt," he said, his voice a little strained.

Daphne glanced up at him, her expression softening. 

"It's quite alright, Anthony. We were just discussing the challenges of maintaining a happy marriage while balancing family obligations." She motioned for him to sit down. "Please, join us."

Anthony hesitated for a moment before taking a seat. He cleared his throat again and looked at you, his expression contrite.

"I know I've been insensitive. I shouldn't have pushed for another child without considering how it would affect us as a couple, and I never want anything to come between us. I just..." He trailed off, searching for the right words.

Daphne reached out and placed her hand on his arm, offering him a reassuring smile. "It's alright, brother. We all make mistakes. The important thing is that you recognize them and are willing to apologize."

You took a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart. You knew Anthony meant every word he said, and you loved him for it. 

But you couldn't help feeling a twinge of uncertainty. You had been through so much already, and the thought of adding another child to the mix was both exciting and terrifying.

"I do appreciate your apology," you said finally, your voice quiet but steady. "But we need to find a way to move forward together. We need to decide what's best for our family."

Anthony nodded, his expression serious. "You're right. I want us to find a solution. I want to be the best husband and father I can be."

You considered his words for a moment.

 "How about this? Let's wait until the end of the season. By then, we'll have had some time to reconnect and renew our focus on our family. If we still feel the same way, we can discuss the possibility of having another child. Does that sound fair?"

Daphne smiled encouragingly. "It sounds like a very sensible plan, y/n. And if you ever need someone to talk to or someone to bounce ideas off of, please don't hesitate to reach out."

The three of you sat in silence for a moment, each lost in your thoughts. But there was an understanding between you, a sense of unity that gave you hope. Perhaps, just perhaps, you could find a way to make everything work.

[guppybibi]

Not much of a Romancer..

𖦹 pairing: Necromancer!Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x ghost!fem!reader

𖦹 word count: 1543

𖦹 content: Dead Johnny (shockers), most likely inaccurate information, maybe ooc, mild cursing, i feel like this will be a rushed slowburn

𖦹 notes: the definitions are from google lmao, idk how necromancy works but..how do u do dialogue what.

Necromancy, the practice of magic involving communication with the dead by summoning their spirits, a certain act that Simon wasn't familiar with. Yet, at least. He’s been browsing through local libraries whenever he isn't deployed, researching on this topic. It never really piqued his interest to begin with, you know? Well, not until Johnny brought it up once. It stuck with him since.

“Aye whin ah die L.T., mak' sure tae git an ouija boord or learn necromancy sae we kin still talk.” He joked, already tipsy from the amount of alcohol in his system. Simon knew he was kidding, the man was bloody drunk after all. The idea didn't seem..horrible though. Would it really work? Could he still talk with Johnny or the other undead by simply using a haunted board or using witchcraft?

Now that Johnny really was gone, it wouldn't hurt to try it out, right? Simon chose to use the Ouija board first as it looked easier than to learn literal black magic. And did it work? It definitely did! Except he wasn't talking to Johnny’s spirit, instead he was talking to a fucking demon. That could also be the late Sergeant messing with him but he wasn't taking any chances of being possessed by an actual demon, he had enough demons he was fighting internally, he didn't need any more. So he turned to the last option in his book which was learning necromancy, which certainly wasn't easier.

First, he went and browsed the endless world wide web, finding tips and tricks of what you're supposed to do or not do. It was quite useful, being able to learn in the comfort of his own house was convenient. One of the few downsides of researching on the net is the fact that the internet was a cobweb of all sorts of false information, just waiting for the users to fall right into their sticky trap. Simon wasn't one of them though, he wasn't one to trust that easily, especially strangers. So he went to the public library, a place he hasn't been to in years.

It felt like he was out of place to say the least, every heavy step he took made the aged floorboards creak, earning the librarian’s stern glare every time while he nodded his head to silently apologize. So far, the most important thing he learned to keep in mind in necromancy is respect. After all, it was the undead he was disturbing. To never forget to say things like “please” and “thank you” deemed easy enough. Sure he was a cold-hearted man, a lot of people were skeptical if he even had one in him, but he wasn't a disrespectful man. So he kept these things in mind, they were easy enough to do anyway.

So, after months of researching he finally decided to start his very first ritual. He got some chalk, some white candles to repel any negative spirit, he would've chosen to use tea candles but that wasn't the better option. Get it? Because Brits like tea? Well there were a bunch of different methods he could've used, but he chose this so it better work. He was taking this chance, the chance to speak to Johnny again, to properly say goodbye.

At last, it was time. It was the dead of night, Simon decided to perform the ritual in an abandoned building. He managed to accurately set everything up, proving that the months of studying necromancy was worth it. Then, he started the long awaited ritual. It started out smoothly, with him reciting chants and doing whatever was required for him to do. He was anticipating to hear an annoying Scottish accent to come out soon, but instead he heard..a high pitched voice? From what he could tell, it was no doubt a woman. Shit, did he just summon the spirit of an unknown dead woman? Well he had to deal with this, he can only hope it wasn't a hostile spirit. It’s his responsibility now, he can't just shove your soul back into the afterlife.

“I was having a really good rest, ya know..” The spirit starts. “Until a certain someone here decided to ruin it.” She glares at the masked man in front of her, making Simon feel like he was being pierced by sharp needles. “Sorry, that wasn't my intention.” He states the truth, sighing when he realizes his first attempt at speaking to Johnny failed. He should clean up and get going before he pisses you off even more. So he does just that, cleaning up after himself and packing up. “Hey hey, stop right there big guy.” She calls out, disappearing from where she was and reappearing right in front of him.

“You bothered my peaceful slumber, now I’m bothering you!” She announces proudly as if she had just said the best idea for vengeance. Okay, maybe it was because Simon’s ears were already starting to ring from your voice. “Sure, go follow me or whatever.” He said with an indifferent tone, he’s been through the worst things. Things that also caused his ear to ring and rupture, so he could surely handle this. From what he could tell, you seemed like you just wanted to provoke him. That's fine, at least you meant no harm. Physically at least.

And so, you did indeed follow him. No matter the occasion, rainy or sunny, you’d be right there beside him like a pesky shadow. Unless he went to the bathroom, that's where you’d finally cross the line. You still waited for him out the door like a clingy dog though. That was when he was not deployed though, you weren't exactly aware of him being a lieutenant..Sure his room seemed very soldier-like and had remnants of proof all over but he could've been just a military enthusiast or something!

Now here he was, packing all of the essentials as he prepares for deployment while you watch him intently. “Seriously? 3-in-1 shampoo? It's not even scented!” She bitches, concerned about his hygiene routine. “It's efficient and convenient.” He answers dryly, continuing to shove all of the necessities in his bags. “Where are you going anyways? Vacation?” To which he scoffs at, do you really think he's bringing a pistol to a vacation? “Did the afterlife take all of your wits too? I’m getting deployed.”

“..Deployed?” She questions. “I’m in the army.” And with that, her eyes are as wide as saucers. “Excuse me, no wait–excuse you? And you never bothered mentioning it to me once!” Then he cuts you off. “You never bothered to tell me your name. I think we're in pretty similar situations.” Her mouth is instantly zipped, he did have a point. “Oh right..well it isn't too late to get to know each other, big guy.”

“Stop calling me ‘big guy’.” “Then tell me your name. Look, I’ll even start. My name is Y/N, nice to meet you.” She starts, holding out her hand as she expects a handshake from him. Because that's how proper formal introductions start! “Ghost.” He replies blankly, getting a raised eyebrow from you. “That's it?” She sulks. “Just an alias, that's enough.”

‘What a killjoy’ she thinks, why couldn't someone more interesting make her come to life! Like maybe a group of rebellious teens or anyone but like this ‘Ghost’ guy! “Well then ‘Ghost’, let's get to know each other!” She insists. “I won't be talking to you when I’m deployed, don't want the soldiers thinking I’m a madman.” She whines, how much did she sin during her lifetime to deserve such dull torture? Before she could even open her mouth to complain, he spoke up. “If you dislike haunting me then just leave.” “I can't.” She tells, and Simon has never seen you this quiet before.

“I bet I owe you some kind of explanation huh? Looks like you didn't research enough on this necromancing disturbing the dead shit.” He nodded, admitting his mistake. “Whoever awakes the undead is the only one who can put them to rest again, you have to perform another ritual for it. So if I don't stop following you, I could possibly lose you and permanently wander as a ghost forever. I don't want that, none of the undead does.” She explained, the words are hard to get out of her. While the masked man nodded in understanding, that's why she acted like she was glued to him like honey. He thought about it, it did seem pretty shitty. You can only do so much, going around as a ghost doesn't seem like the funnest thing in the world.

“I see. Just..stick by me or whatever.” There's something in him that doesn't wanna get rid of her just yet, maybe it's his conscience? Yeah, that was for sure it. It would feel like he was purposely putting someone back in their grave, the soil being used to bury them a little too familiar to other experiences. The woman blinks a few times, burning straight through his soul as she stares at him before nodding. Looks like he was in no rush to get rid of her, that's nice. She’ll stay by his side the whole time, whether he likes it or not.

[shoalweedhence]

You were out my League

Warnings: Reader with self-confidence issues

Pairing: Eddie Munson x GN Reader

Content Tag: Hurt/Comfort & Fluff

Word Count: 1543

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

Just as you turn the page of the book lying in your lap, you feel the covers beneath you shift slightly. Glancing away from the page, you watch as Eddie, eyes closed and fully immersed in his own world, bobs his head to the music you can faintly hear as it filters through his headphones. Your eyes lower down to his fidgeting hand, fingers splayed on the bed -his bed- as they tap along to the melody. The rings adorning his knuckles glint in the afternoon sunlight streaming through his open window. The warm air caresses your face, guiding you like a soft hand tilting your chin back up. You look at your boyfriend’s concentrated features, his eyebrows knitting, the edge of his nose pinching, the corners of his mouth moving almost imperceptibly in a downward motion.

You could lose yourself for hours at the sight of him -actually, you already had, many times before, and did not plan on stopping anytime soon, partly because you enjoyed looking at him very much, and partly because you thought that, maybe, if you looked at him just long enough, the answer to a seemingly life-long question you had would finally be answered.

Because, seriously, how *had* you managed to go out with him? 

You had been told many times that you should not question it. ‘If he’s happy with you and you’re happy with him, don’t overthink it’ your friends of the Hellfire Club had been quick to reassure you, both wanting you to be happy as well as rooting for their leader to finally have some more positives in his life. 

You wanted to not overthink, of course, and you did your best to not let your mind wander whenever Eddie did something kind for you; that one time he agreed to give you a lift back home because your car was getting fixed, the way he would hold your hands -whenever the Hoosier weather decided to cool for two days in the year- and bring them up to his face, blowing a warm breath on them, the way he would bring you food to share and a movie to watch when things were tough, the way he was patient and considerate, but just persistent enough to have you explain what your limits were in this relationship… he would just drop anything he was doing in a heartbeat if it was for you. Had you ever done anything like that for him?

Ultimately, though, the voice at the back of your head would just not stop nagging you, and you learned to live with this constant headache.

You jumped a little when you felt something warm touch your hand. You looked down hastily, noticing a ringed hand covering yours before your eyes flitted back up towards Eddie’s.

“What is it?” He asked, taking off his headphones with his free hand.

“What do you mean?” You answered after a pause, your throat feeling stuffy, as if it was full of cotton, since you had not talked for a while.

“You were staring,” he said, and as your eyes averted his from embarrassment. “I don’t mind, it’s just,” he added quickly, shifting his position on the bed so he was facing you, both of his hands playing with yours, “sometimes you get that look in your eyes, and it seems like you’re not having happy thoughts…” 

Of course he had noticed. One more reason to get him a trophy for best boyfriend on the planet, you thought.

But despite how elated your heart felt, singing his praises for how well he was able to read you, now, you also felt quite vulnerable. He was your partner, and a wonderful one at that, and you knew you could trust him -seriously, you could not imagine yourself with someone you did not fully trust, and Eddie met that criteria with remarkable skill. 

Still, you wondered if he might take it badly. After all, if you told him you did not feel you deserved his love, did that imply that you thought he might expect something from you which you were not aware of? Did you think he was manipulating you? Were you the one leading him on, hiding what you were really thinking? Did you even trust that anyone could love you?

“You don’t have to tell me,” Eddie said when he saw you spiralling down into your thoughts, “but I want to be here for you, and I will listen if there’s anything you want to tell me.”

The sound of his voice, deep and slightly gravely as he kept it low with a confidential tone, brought you back to reality. The feeling of his calloused fingertips tracing abstract patterns on the back of your palm now registering through your unfocused senses. As you looked back up at him, meeting his curious and concerned eyes you felt the shackles of your heart slacken.

“I just…” You trailed off, searching his soulful eyes for a hint of irritation, but instead finding bucket loads of compassion, “you are so out of my league.”

You were expecting a laugh, and he did smile a bit, but instead, he tilted his head to the side.

“Why do you think that?”

You inhaled, feeling the contents of the inside of your heart make their way up your throat, and as soon as you opened your mouth, you felt any hope of restraint dissolve.

“Well, you’re incredible, in every possible way. You’re strong, impossibly kind, extremely skilled at anything you set your mind to, you are so panoptically passionate, you’re funny, you’re unfathomably dependable and you never let your friends down, you’re goofy, and I mean this with all the love in my heart, you can sense when people need cheering up and you just cheer them up by, I don’t know, some kind of Eddie magic,” you gestured with your free hand as if you held a wand, earning a chuckle from Eddie, “you’re just so amazing, I don’t think I deserve-”

You stopped yourself before the sentence could fully leave your lips, swallowing back the last word with difficulty. When you spoke again, your voice was quieter:

“And then you go around and do the sweetest things for me, the most touching gestures and you’re so thoughtful…”

You sighed, taking a few seconds to steady your breathing as your soliloquy left your lungs empty. You looked at the book in your lap, the words incoherently blurring together, the sentences stringing themselves in one long incomprehensible line. Your eyes moved away from the paper, getting distracted by the bigger palms having captured your own. 

“You don’t think you deserve that?” Eddie asked calmly.

You looked up at him, his brown eyes shifting with an emotion you found impossible to decipher. You nodded.

Eddie smiled sadly, “Sweetheart, you’re like the perfect opposite of a Hobbit.”

If it were not for the whiplash you had just been victim to, your heart melting at the nickname he gave you, followed by the name of a fictional race you were not necessarily certain you wanted to be associated with, you surely would have answered more eloquently. Instead, only a ‘huh’ escaped your lips.

“You’re exactly like Bilbo’s evil doppelgänger,” Eddie continued, nodding to himself.

“...I’m not following.”

“Anytime something bad happens during his journey, what does Bilbo Baggins do? He ruminates -which you’re quite good at doing too, that’s maybe your one similarity- but he looks out onto the unjust world that took him out of his cozy, warm and delightful Hobbit hole and he vents his frustration outwards. You, my dear, do the opposite. Anytime something good happens to you, and yes, I will speak of myself as a positive in your life, that string of compliments you gave me is going to serve as an ego boost for years to come, you start questioning it, thinking back on all the negative you’ve ever experienced and wondering if you do deserve that good.” One of Eddie’s hands left yours and he cupped your cheek, “be more like Bilbo. Take credit for the good things when they happen and be frustrated at the world when things go wrong, not the other way around.”

You closed your eyes, fighting back the tears that were threatening to spill and leaned into his touch. 

“Come here,” Eddie whispered, pulling you into his chest as he rested his head on top of yours.

Closing your eyes, you focused on his strong heartbeat that you could feel pulsating at regular intervals against your back. There was also his scent, which you could now take full inhales of as you stood closer to him, though the smell of weed was the most intense one. Your fingers idly played with the pins and patches on his jean jacket, tracing the designs that you knew by heart.

After a few moments, you turned your head just a bit, looking up at him. You bit your lip as your smile threatened to morph into laughter at the joke formulating in your head.

“If I become more like Bilbo I might just grow long curly hairs on my feet, though.”

The echo of Eddie’s laugh reverberated against your back as his chest shook.

“I’d still love you.”

[bump1nthen1ght]

A Very Monstrous Kinktober (2024) Day 29 - Voyeurism

Kink: Voyeurism

Pairing: F!Reader x MothWoman

Other Kinks: Mutual Masturbation, Exhibitionism

Warning: Dubious Consent

Word Count: 1543 words

Kinktober Masterlist

A/N: Apologies for the delay everyone! This was originally scheduled to come out this morning, but Tumblr glitched out and then wouldn't let me post from mobile....but anyway! Hope y'all enjoy!

It had started out so innocent.

She was worried, that was all. You had avoided the deadly car pileup thanks to her, but the close-call still had left you shaken up. Hell, you were too traumatized to get behind the wheel for a whole month. It was only natural that Luanne would keep an eye on you. She saw it as an extension of her sacred duty, helping the humans avoid the unfortunate disasters that came their way.

After seeing so much of your daily life, it would be impossible not to become attached. Despite your lingering fear you still exhibited so much joy, taking the extra time at home to spend with your pets, finish those household tasks you never got around to, and getting in touch with your family. When not at home you’d go out walking, enjoying the serenity of your small West Virginia home and its bounty of nature. Luanne always enjoyed humans who appreciated what was around them, who took things slow and embraced the simple pleasures of life.

She just hadn’t realized how…pleasurable those pleasures could be.

The first time had been an accident. She hadn’t realized you were nothing under that bathrobe, her antenna flittering when you shucked it off to lay bare on your bed. She figured you were changing, that you’d cover up your (beautiful) body with pajamas and be on your way. But you just laid there, spread eagle, reading your book.

Yes, Luanne had spent most of her life in close proximity with humans, but she had never seen this side of them before.

So, she was curious. She watched and watched, traced every curve of your body with her big, red eyes. She twitched when you’d switch to another position, arch your back and bare more of yourself to her. And she ignored how it made her stomach turn, sent a heat straight down to her core. This was scientific observation, not something lewd.

At least, until….

“Fuck.” You mutter under your breath, the bullet vibrator clicking as you switch it to a faster setting. Even from outside your window, Luanne’s superior vision means she can see the way your pussy flutters, your hole clenching around nothing. Her antenna’s twitter together again, singing an unconscious whistle that has her face going hot.

She wasn’t completely naive to human reproduction, Luanne had been around long enough to know (and occasionally stumble open) the basics. But she wasn’t aware humans could do it by themselves. Nor that they enjoyed it so much.

“A-ah~” You moan, throwing your hips up against the toy, swiveling them around in circles. The toy follows your path, draws Luanne’s eyes as well. She can see your thighs flex as you hump the vibrator, drawing tight circles around your clit. Luanne has to silence her gasp when you grab one of you tits, fondling it between your fingers and tugging at your nipple. Your head tosses back. “Ungh!” 

Luanne feels her thighs rubbing together, her wings fluttering as she feels locked in a trance. Its hypnotic the way your body writhes against the sheets, the way you bite your lip and scrunch up your eyes. Not to mention the glistening slick that beads at your pussy, or the pheromones that waft from your open window. All of it hits Luanne like a tidal wave, and she wants nothing more than to drown in it.

She moves ro your window sill, hanging from above the rooftop, caution thrown to the wind. You’re too involved in yourself to notice, whatever fantasy playing in your head too good to leave. It must be a good one, if the fervent jerking motion of your wrist is indication.

“Oh my god!” You squeal, walls beginning to spasm as you approach your high. Luanne’s gut tightens, something of her own stirring in her core, a deep hunger, unfamiliar to her this time of year. “Ah! Ah!”

Your pussy gushes with your release, another wave of pheromones wafting over Luanne. It's dizzying, and she wonders if this is what humans experience when they consume alcohol; the high and the lack of focus.

Her wings wilt at the thought that that might be the end, the she’ll have to retreat once you open your eyes and get ready for bed. But instead you’re hyper focused, vibrater tossed to the side and hand scrambling for your drawer.

This toy is bigger, with two ends; one bulbous and long, the other farther down the shaft and small. But both vibrate when you click the button on the end, your gaze electric as you sink the girthy end inside of you.

Luanne’s has to grab hold of her antenna’s, their humming growing too loud as she see your walls open up round the toy. She practically moans when you grab your tits again, pressing them up with your forearm, and flicking your thumb across your nipples. The combination makes your hips jerk, your voice melodic as the tiny part of the toy reaches your clit, the rest now fully seated inside of you.

Luanne can’t take it anymore. Her hand draws down her entrance, sticky and soaking. She had only on occasion laid with others of her kind, usually during the annual mate that drove all them wild with pheromones. It’s why she’s shocked to see just how ready she is right now, just from watching this human in her bedroom. It’s almost frightening how easily you have entranced her, but it’s also sinfully enticing.

The toy juts inside you, small shallow thrusts being made with your wrists. It must be difficult to focus with the other part stimulating your clit, your hands multitasking between playing with your tits and fucking yourself. But the small jerks are enough, fresh slick pooling around your lips and your brow furrowing. You bite your bottom lip, hard enough for blood to pool underneath the skin, bruises peppering those soft lips.

 Luanne wonders what it’d be like to kiss you. To bruise those lips herself, to grab that base of the toy and fuck you hard. Watch you bounce on it, watch your eyes roll and her name to pour from your mouth.

Luanne stuffs her long fingers into her cunt, wishing it was something thicker. Maybe you could use the toy on her, force her open. Suck on her clit as you do, lapping up her own juices. Would her own slick be as sweet as your smells? It’s something she’s never even considered before, mating periods typically short and explosive, just a quick romp and thats it. But with you she would lie for hours, working each others bodies until you collapse from exhaustion.

“Unngh.” Your moans have quited down, muffled behind your bitten lips. Luanne can perfect picture her hand on your face, squeezing your cheeks and forcing your mouth open. You wouldn’t be quiet for her, wouldn't deny her your beautiful sounds.

Luanne’s antennae sings, too distracted to hide them anymore. You’ll probably just think it's the natural home of bugs in the nighttime, some actual moths drawn in by your lit window.

“Oh, oh!” Your hips start trembling again, the slapping sound of the dildo in your pussy getting sloppy. Your hands lose all gentleness, tugging hard on your nipple and forcing the dildo even deeper. Luanne cheat has begun to heave, her superior vision feeling blurred as her own orgasm approaches. Her fingers stretch and scissor outward in her cunt, her long thumb pressing hard on her clit, trying to simulate what you must be feeling right now.

With one finally jut of the dildo, your back arches and your hips throw up, another climax hitting you like a train. You ride out the trembling aftershocks, the toy still vibrating your overstimulated button. It’s the squeezing of your pussy that finally pushes Luanne over, orgasm coming hard and fast, squirting all over her fingers. The feeling is so overwhelming, her balled up fist surges forward and hits the outside of the window.

Thump! Luanne barely has time to react, to throw herself up and hide herself once clarity hits. You must have heard her, the soft pitter patters of your feet on the hardwood muffled right before you throw open your window, peering outside. Luanne holds her breath, feeling more nervous than she has in an entire lifetime of preventing disasters.

After a painstaking minute, you shrug your shoulders and close the window, finally allowing Luanne to breathe. She collapses on the rooftop, her wings outsplayed, the guilt of what she just did finally hitting her. It should make her sick, but instead it just tightens up her stomach, wondering if you’ll do it again tomorrow night.

She'll come back once more, just once. Make sure you’re okay and then move on.

That’s it.

—

As you flick the light off, you send one last look to your window. Having already cleaned your toys, the drowsiness of two orgasms urges you to go back to sleep, even though you had hoped tonight would last just a little bit longer.

Snuggling under the covers, you dream of soft hands, of warm wings embracing your body. Of red eyes, peering right into your soul.

Well, you hoped she enjoyed the show.

[aticklishpercivalwriter]

The Feeling of Love and Being Free

Link to Art (credits go to original artist(s) as always!): Xiao/Venti

—

Summary: It’s Xiao’s rest day, but Xiao insists on going to work as the Conqueror of Demons. Venti doesn’t let him and begs for him to cuddle with him instead.

A/N: A little angsty in the beginning before going to steamy kisses and then tickling. This is a surprise gift for my irl friend. It was her birthday a few days ago. She likes VenXiao :) As always, enjoy! 

Word Count: 1543 Also on AO3!

— 

“Venti, no.”

“Xiao, come onnnn.”

Both Xiao and Venti were at Wanghu Inn in Xiao’s room. Currently, Xiao glared at Venti who was tugging at his arm to come cuddle with him.

“Please, Xiao?”

“Ven, I have work to do.” 

“Nope! You don't!”

A chirpy voice chimed in as Aether entered and grinned. 

“Aether, you are here.” Xiao said, standing straighter even though Venti was still on his arm like a koala.

“Xiao,” Aether pouted, pulling him into a hug. “Call me Ae. We are boyfriends, no need to be so formal around me. We didn’t sign a contract or anything. Plus, I do like it when you say Ae.” The last part was whispered as he let go. “Anyway, I talked with Zhongli and he said you can relax for today. He and I have some business to attend to, so we’ll be patrolling Liyue on the side.” 

“But,” Xiao started.

“No buts,” Aether interrupted, sternly. “This is your day to relax. Venti, make sure he doesn’t work. I have to get going. Zhongli and Paimon are waiting, have fun love birds!~”

He gave them both a kiss before he was out the door. As the door closed shut, Xiao looked back at Venti, who was grinning from ear to ear. 

“Xiao~”

“I can’t. I need to-”

“Xiao.”

Xiao tensed up as he heard Venti’s voice. All playfulness gone and replaced with a sad brooding. 

“Do you really put your work as Conqueror of Demons above Aether’s and my love?”

Xiao’s eyes widened at the question as he looked at Venti. His grip had slackened and his eyes were filled with sadness and hurt that sent a cold feeling to settle in his stomach. 

“No! Venti, no. Please don’t think like that.” he pulled Venti up and into a hug.

“Then why?” Venti’s voice cracked, causing Xiao’s heart to break. “W-Why are you so persistent in working a-and not being with me? With Ae? With the both of us?”

Xiao took a deep breath before speaking.

“I was made to be a war machine,” Xiao started quietly. “I wasn’t supposed to know what love is or to feel it. But ever since Ae came into my life, he shook those foundations that have anchored me. I’m trying, Ven. I really am sorry for hurting you. For hurting you and Ae. Love is something that I’m unfamiliar with.”

A silence fell over them as they stayed in the embrace. 

“Venti?”

“You aren’t a war machine,” Venti said into Xiao’s neck. “The contract that was made between you and Morax was supposed to be over. If you don’t think so, I was there when it was made and I collaborated with him to make sure that you won’t be rooted into the position you are now. But look now. Morax and I both failed and underestimated your Karmic Debt and you are living with this belief of being a war machine. I should be the one sorry.”

Venti pulled away from the embrace and Xiao saw remnants of tear streaks as he wiped them away. Venti held his hands and looked into his eyes. Xiao saw regret and sorrow but also determination. 

“Zhongli has done his part in letting us have this time together and I believe he will talk to you in due time. But for now it's just us.”

Venti rubbed his hand over Xiao’s vision as he spoke. 

“Xiao,” he began, locking their eyes together. “You’ve done your duty all those years ago and even more, but those times have passed and are long gone.” 

He pressed their foreheads together as he squeezed Xiao’s hands and his vision. 

“Anemo is freedom and that’s why I’m proud to be the god of it. As the Anemo god, I announce you free of your sins and are free to roam the world and do whatever you want to do.”

He inched closer to Xiao, their lips barely touching.

“And as your lover, you are free to let go and have the chance at love you’ve never had before.”

He closed the distance between them and shared a long, deep passionate kiss with him. Xiao’s eyes widened momentarily before closing and returning it with equal passion. 

“Mmm~ Ven~” Xiao moaned, as Venti pulled him in closer, taking the lead and carding his hands through his hair. 

“I love you Xiao. I love you. I love you. I love you,” Venti mouthed into the kiss, sucking on his lip for permission to enter. Xiao gasped, giving him entry. Venti went slow, letting Xiao get used to the new feelings that were bombarding him at once. 

“V-Venti~ Ngh~” Xiao moaned and Venti had to resist ravaging him right then and there. Instead, he led Xiao toward the bed, laying them down without breaking the kiss and sliding his hands down Xiao’s neck and along his back. 

“Mmphahahaha!” Xiao let out a surprised laugh, breaking the kiss as his head fell back into the sheets. 

Venti widened his eyes and looked down at Xiao. His heart fluttered at the sight of seeing Xiao’s flushed face and he can feel Xiao’s whole aura has changed. No longer was it dark and foreboding, but a light, joyful happy one. 

A grin took over Venti’s features as he crawled on top of Xiao, his weight trapping him. 

“Ven?” Xiao asked, his mind still hazy from the kiss. “Mmph! Mmm~”

Xiao melted into the kiss again thinking that another round of intense kissing was going to happen, but instead Venti’s hands curled against his sides.

“Mmahahahaha! Mmmehehehe! Vehehehen! Hahahaha!” he broke the kiss again laughing as he half-heartedly tried to push Venti off. “Whyhyhy?” 

“Do I need to have a reason to kiss and tickle my Yaksha boyfriend?” Venti teased.

“Ahahahaha! Yehehehehehes?” 

“Wrong answer,” Venti smirked, reaching behind his back to scribble his fingers in the opening of his clothing.

“Vehehehenti! snort HAHAHAHAHA! NAHAHAHA!” Xiao let out a snort and a guffaw of laughter surprising them both. 

“I didn’t know your back was ticklish!” Venti exclaimed. 

Xiao’s ears flushed and the red hue on his face increased in intensity. “Me neither.” He looked back at Venti and immediately felt his stomach flip. Venti looked at him with a playful hunger in his eyes.

“You didn’t know?” he said slyly. “That means Ae didn’t find it yet. This is good,” he grinned and flipped Xiao onto his stomach and straddled him and scribbled all over his back. 

“Ven! Ven-HAHAHAHAHA! WAIT! WAHAHAHAIT! snort AHAHAHAHA! I WAHAHAHASN’T- snort OHOHOHO NAHAHAHA! VEHEHEN!” Xiao laughed uncontrollably as snorts sneaked their way in, making Venti’s heart swell with happiness. 

“Ae wasn’t kidding when he said you were extremely ticklish. How did Ae miss your back!?”

“IHIHIHI DOHOHOHON’T KNOHOHOW! AHAHAHAHA! snort SWIHIHIHITCH SPOHOHOHOHOTS! SWIHIHITCH SPAHAHAHATS! HEHEHEAHAHA!”

“Okay, okay,” Venti flipped him back onto his back and it was worth it to see Xiao’s flushed, smiling face. Xiao immediately tried to hide his face in his hands, but Venti was not having it.

“D-don’t staHAHAHAre! NOHOHohohoHO! Hehehehe! Ahahaha! Nohohot thehehEREHEHE!” Xiao shrieked, bringing his arms down and trapping Venti’s fingers in his armpits. 

“Aww, there’s your cute face, my baby Yaksha~ Not here you say? How about here?” Venti drilled with deadly precision into the center of his hollows.

“GAHAHAHAHA! AHAHAHAHAHA! HAHAHAHAHA! VEN! VEHEHEHEN! NAHAHAHA! IHIHIHIT TIHIHIHICKLES! TIHIHIHICKLES! VEHEHEHENTIHIHIHI!” Xiao howled with laughter, weakly squirming away. 

“Ehe, such a ticklish Yaksha,” Venti teased. To make matters worse, or better, Venti started peppering kisses on Xiao’s face and slid one of hands down to knead his hips. 

“PLEHEHEHEASE!” Xiao laughed, shaking his head. 

“You are quite the ticklish one, huh?” Venti snickered, letting up a little to give Xiao a breather. 

“Hahahaha, hah~” Xiao breathed out, still giggling as Venti lazily ran his fingers over his stomach. 

“Ihihihi thohohought youhu arehehe gohohoing to stohop?” 

“I still want to try a couple more spots,” Venti grinned innocently, making Xiao groan. “Hey, I wasn’t hearing a stop from you,” he said, pinching one of his ribs and making him jerk away. 

“Ohoho is this another spot?” 

“Ven! HahahHahAHAHA! NohohOHOHO!”

The tickling began anew as Venti targeted his ribs, randomly alternating between his lower and top ribs. 

“VehehEHEHEhenti! AHAHahahaHAha! ThAHAT breHEHEAk wahasn’t tHAHAhat loHOng!”

“Ehe, too bad~”

Xiao squirmed under Venti enduring the tickling before bringing his face towards Venti’s to kiss him. Venti’s fingers immediately stilled, surprised by his boldness and even more surprised by the longing feeling in the kiss. They shared kiss after kiss as their hands got tangled in each other’s hair, whispering each other’s names in between kisses before breaking apart for air. 

“I must have tickled you silly,” Venti sighed contently, hugging Xiao as he nuzzled his nose against his.

“Mmm.”

“Remember, Xiao. You are free,” he said with a small kiss. “Ae and I both love you, so don’t struggle alone.” 

Venti massaged Xiao’s head making him purr and cuddle closer.

“I’m free. I’m free and with you. I’m free and in love with you and Ae,” Xiao smiled softly as he kissed Venti back. “I love you both too. Thank you, Ven.” 

Venti planted a kiss on his forehead in response and the both of them snuggled even closer before falling into a peaceful slumber.

—  Note: The contract stuff came from my head and not from any lore. Just wanted to make that clear :)

[acasualcrossfade]

Clean Sheets/ Fresh Pajamas

Stranger Things: Steve Harrington/ Eddie Munson

Sicktember 2024: Clean Sheets/ Fresh Pajamas

Words: 1543 | Rating: T | @sicktember

Summary: Eddie's sick, but Steve finds a perfect time to clean up and change the sheets.

-----------

Steve was pulled from the depths of sleep by a distant ringing. He groaned, becoming aware of how feverishly warm he was, and the way something heavy hung onto him. He blinked, slowly becoming aware of the cloud of curls that covered his vision. He realized then that Eddie was curled against him, comfortably asleep on his chest. Eddie’s cheeks were still colored with fever and Steve felt as if he was laying under a heated blanket. Sweat gathered at the place where Eddie slept against him, and Steve could smell the scent of sour sickness still emanating from Eddie’s snoring mouth. 

The ringing came again, earning a groan from Eddie. 

“I’ll geddit,” Steve mumbled, sleep stealing most of his syllables. He forced his leg to shift out from under the tangle of sheets, earning another groan from Eddie. Unlike the low moan of warning before a choked, sicker hiccup, this moan was higher and almost a whine. Steve wasn’t sure if it was from being woken up or from him trying to leave the bed, but then Eddie’s leg pressed against Steve’s in protest, as if to say don’t leave. 

“S’the phone,” Steve whispered, planting a kiss on Eddie’s forehead. “M’comin’ back. Three minutes.”

Steve stroked Eddie’s cheek as his boyfriend’s face scrunched in tired frustration.

Eddie’s leg off Steve’s, taking Steve’s soft forehead kiss as acceptable payment for leaving the bed. 

The warmth from the bed only lasted a few seconds as Steve wished for a shirt as he stumbled across the room and to the hallway. He reached the phone seconds before it went to voicemail. 

“Hello?” His voice was raspier than he expected and he swallowed. “This is Steve.”

“Oh I was hoping to not wake you,” Joyce’s voice tutted from the other end of the line. “I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

He blinked rapidly as the bright light in the kitchen seemed to stab at his half-asleep eyes. He didn’t have his watch on, but the digital clock on the microwave read 8:34. He paused, wondering how Joyce knew about Eddie, but then remembered the call he’d made to her place at some time closer to 2am, when Eddie could barely keep down water.

“Hey, yeah, we’re okay. It was rough for a bit last night, but it’s cooler downstairs and I think moving him to the guest room helped.”

“Okay, good. Jonathan’s got the same thing and is still feeling pretty rough. You call me if you need anything, okay?”

“Okay. Thanks, Joyce.”

She reminded him to check Eddie’s temperature and Steve assured her he would before they hung up.

Steve set the phone back on the cradle, still squinting in the bright light of the morning. He rubbed his eye with the back of his hand; it was later than he realized, which meant Eddie was on his fourth hour of uninterrupted sleep. 

Maybe this was the corner he’d been hoping to turn all along. 

Steve absently filled a glass and it was only when the water touched his dry tongue that he realized how thirsty he was. He gulped the rest of the glass, quickly refilling it to down it just as fast. He’d been so focused on getting water in Eddie, that he’d forgotten to hydrate himself. The water refreshed him, removing the last of the sticky sleepiness between his bones. Joyce’s call reminded Steve of how sick Eddie had been last night, and winced at the memory of Eddie’s choking gags and heaves as he struggled to bring up everything he’d eaten in the last week. Steve lost count of how many times Eddie had pushed himself over the toilet bowl before Steve had to assist and the hours blurred as they moved between the bedroom and the bathroom.

Steve fought a yawn as he refilled the glass to bring back to the guest room. It was late but if Eddie was awake, maybe he’d be up to try some water and medicine.

The guest room door was ajar and as Steve approached, he caught the sight of Eddie’s arm sleepily hanging off the bed first. As he entered the doorway, Steve saw that the rest of Eddie was curled comfortably in the pillow dent left by Steve’s body. The sheets tangled around Eddie’s ankles, stubbornly kicked off sometime in the night. Sweat gathered at Eddie’s temple and dampened the pillowcase, making Eddie’s baby hairs stick to his temple and neck and dampening the pillowcase into a darker blue. 

Despite being sick, Steve was astonished at how beautiful Eddie was like this. The ponytail Steve tied last night had fallen loose, and Eddie’s hair was now spread across the pillows like a curly black storm cloud. His boyfriend’s back was a sight to take in; Steve had each divot and dimple memorized. Eddie’s outstretched arm was inked in tattoos, each a few inches apart. His fingers were long and slender, and Steve could make out the faded reminders written in Sharpie on the back of Eddie’s hand. Whatever bug Eddie was fighting stole most of his color, but his cheeks were still rosy, but nothing like the raging red they were last night.

For the first time in days, Eddie looked comfortable.

Relief came in a warm glow that seemed to expand through Steve’s chest, and Steve leaned heavier against the doorway. It’d been a long few days, and his own body wanted nothing more than the return to bed with Eddie. But the thought of waking Eddie or worse, the movement of the bed making Eddie’s nausea return, was a risk he didn’t want to take.

He'd crash in his bed, but their bedroom upstairs was still a mess from the last few days.

But, a clean bed was what they both needed.

The thought of curling up with Eddie in clean sheets gave him the momentum he needed and he headed upstairs to begin.

His bedroom was at the end of the hall, and he was hit with a heavy stuffiness and the same sour smell. Sickness seemed to hang in the air like an invisible fog. The sunlight shone in from the open curtains, casting the window panes in rumpled shadows over the unmade bed. He crossed the room to unlatch the lock on the window and cracked it open. The whoosh of air that came in carried the chilly bite of the oncoming winter, but it instantly cut through the stuffiness, making the room feel less suffocating.

Steve surveyed his room, taking in each part of the mess. Various painkillers and medicine for fevers were scattered across the surfaces of his room. His nightstand looked like a mini city of medicinal skyscrapers, the bottles of cough syrup to Pepto-Bismol and half-full glasses of flat Sprite, all clustered together. The thermometer lay nearby untouched crackers on a napkin, and a used washcloth hung off the side of the nightstand. The backup thermometer sat near the lamp, skewed to the side from Steve's rush to grab the trashcan when Eddie had first felt sick. Steve adjusted it and then picked up the TV remote next to it, trying to remember why he’d brought up the TV from the kitchen. The screen was off, but he remembered when he caught sight the open VHS case of Lord of the Rings. The cassette was still in the player, and although Steve lived by the be kind, rewind rule, but knew Eddie would want to eventually finish the movie.  

Maybe later this afternoon, if Eddie feels better.

The thought was a comfort as Steve started clearing the nightstand. He moved easily, taking a thing and finding the proper place for it, finding a rhythm with cleaning. The cough syrup, now capped, sat closed in the medicine cabinet. He tossed the used tissues in the trash, and the crumpled washcloth was replaced with a clean one. He set out a new pair of shorts and a shirt for Eddie on the dresser to wear later.

The bed was last. 

The quilt came off first and with a few tugs, the top sheet followed. The sheets were next, and Steve leaned on one knee to pull each corner free. The fibers of the sheets seemed to shake sickness off into the air, sticky and sweaty, and Steve was thankful for the open window. The pillowcases were stained and crusty, and he pulled those off, piling them with the sheets gathered at the end of the bed. He added Eddie’s abandoned shirt he stripped off days ago, along with the one Steve tossed to the side sometime yesterday. 

Steve wasted no time getting the pile to the laundry room to wash.

On his return upstairs, Steve paused in the doorway of the guest room again to check on Eddie and smiled at the sight. Eddie had turned over into a full stretch across the bed, still sound asleep. His back glistened and Steve could see the stain of sweat against the pillow from where he slept. Hopefully, Eddie would sleep even better in clean sheets and fresh pajamas.

As Steve leaned against the doorframe, the same warmth glowed in his chest, this time tasting of sweet relief and a little something like love. 

[justwritedreams]

Kiss Me | Mark Lee

Idol!Mark x Reader

Word count: 1543

Genre: pure fluff

Warning: None

Author: Maari

Note: I honestly didn't know blue haired mark had so much power in me lol ask mark to keep appearing in my dreams so i can keep getting inspired. Trying to write other things to clear my mind and finish the requests please don't give up on me!

Summary: You asked and Mark promptly did.

⪢ NCT Masterlist  

Y/N was returning from where she had come when a hand pulled her by the arm to the bathroom corridor of the mall where she was.

"Hey!" was all she managed to say before felt familiar hands on her shoulders and saw Mark's apprehensive face in front of her. "You scared me!" she complained, still feeling her heart want to jump out of her body but when she saw Mark's scared and restless face, she frowned. "What's it?"

“They found me.” he replied, looking around the hallway they were in, as if he needed to make sure he hadn't been followed.

"What? How?"

"I don't know." Mark sighed, and he sounded sincere as well as troubled.

He didn't look scared because of course he'd been through this before, but this weekend was supposed to be different. He was back in his city after so long without the well-deserved vacation, it must have been a normal weekend, like any other person's. Without the fans wanting to take pictures or even recording what he was doing, all he wanted the least was for the mall to be filled with fans, even because he had gone without the security guards.

“Okay, you must have misunderstood.” Y/N tried to calm him down and he glared at her.

“They were looking and pointing at me.”

“Were you sure they were talking about you?” she shrugged and Mark nodded in agreement.

“They were dressed in green.” Y/N eyed him suspiciously, with a raised eyebrow.

"Green?"

“I know what you're going to say, that probably doesn't mean anything.” Y/N nodded and Mark took his hands from her shoulders, taking them to his own hair. “But the moment I saw the color, I don't know, I panicked.”

Y/N controlled not to squeeze Mark's cheeks, as serious as he was, he was so cute. And the involuntary pout he had made was just too attractive.

She reached over to caress his arm, who turned his attention to her.

“Then let's go somewhere else, Mark.” she saw him open his mouth to reply but she smiled reassuringly. "Your blue hair isn't as discreet as you said."

Mark remained serious, but upon seeing Y/N's grimace he laughed lightly.

"Are you sure? I don't know if-” he was interrupted by his friend who started pulling him by the hand.

“I want ice cream and I know the perfect store.” she spoke excitedly and Mark didn't even struggle, laughed and let himself be carried away by Y/N.

“You know it's cold outside, don't you?

“Exactly, it's the perfect weather for ice cream.” Mark genuinely smiled as he watched Y/N's face.

He knew she was doing her best to make him comfortable and he appreciated her effort.

Without even realizing it, they left the mall with their hands intertwined, the texture of the hands together was familiar and welcoming, it had been enough for Mark to forget a little of what had happened inside the mall. The icy wind outside caused Y/N to move closer to Mark, shoulders touching as she tried to find some warmth to ward off the chill.

They went to the bus stop and Mark held back a laugh as he remembered Y/N's words earlier "You'll just be an ordinary person for a day, that means you'll ride the bus like everyone else.". He had nothing to complain about actually, they took a bus a little full and that made her touch him, stay that way for a long time. It was good, he had been able to smell her perfume closer.

And he didn't even know that inside, Y/N was happy too because the situation had made her approach Mark's body the way she had been yearning for.

"What is it?" she asked, seeing him smile sideways as he stared at her, he had placed himself in front of her while they were waiting for the bus.

“I am very happy to be here.” Y/N returned the smile, she felt the same way.

“I am glad to hear that.”

“I needed this, you know? Going back, remembering who I am and I think I can only do that here, with my parents and with you.” she looked away, shy as listened to Mark's words but her attention was stolen to a group of girls who were further ahead, dressed in green, talking warmly and gesticulating endlessly, they were all wearing masks so Y/N couldn't read their lips to know what they were saying but when the girls looked at her, Y/N felt her heart beat faster.

Does that mean…?

Oh damn, what was she going to do?

"What I'm trying to say is that-" Mark's voice still echoed in her ears, but her wits were far away.

“Mark, kiss me.” she spoke without thinking twice and he frowned.

"What?" was all he could said, thought he was delusional or that he wasn't listening properly.

Seeing the girls approaching, Y/N automatically took a step forward, getting closer to Mark who was now wide-eyed.

"Kiss me." she noticed how Mark was confused and about to say something but, while she felt herself being watched, on impulse pressed her lips to Mark's.

He in turn remained shocked, not moving his hands or even blinking, all his attention was focused on how Y/N's warm lips were glued to his.

Y/N saw that the girls walked past them and further away, their eyes seemed fixed elsewhere and so she moved away from Mark to take a better look, the girls were now too busy trying to find the best landscape to take pictures.

Wait a moment…

She felt a huge wave of embarrassment run through her body and stop on her cheek that grew hot with every blink she gave.

“What just happened, man?” Mark still looked shocked and his chuckle at the end indicated just that. Pure shock.

“I think I panicked the moment I saw those girls looking this way and I thought…” Y/N scratched her ear before turning to face Mark, he seemed very interested in listening. “If they think we're dating, maybe they'll think you're not who they thought you were, but they weren't looking at us.” she pointed back and saw Mark smile in an indecipherable way at her. “On second thought, my whole plan seemed pretty silly.”

She looked away, not daring to meet Mark's eyes, but in the blink of an eye he mimicked what Y/N had done a few minutes ago, taking his hands to grab her by the back of her neck and pull her to him. She just widened her eyes when Mark's lips captured hers willingly.

Quite different from the simple touch she had initiated.

Well, of course, the sight of Mark kissing her so thirsty made her a little dizzy and her legs weak, but when he looked her in the eye again, showing how much he wanted it just as much as she did, Y/N couldn't help herself and raised her hand to his face. Indicating that she didn't want to stop.

Mark distributed light pecks as he brought his body to Y/N's and she smiled, caressing his cheek, tired of waiting, their lips met again and didn't let go so easily. Lips molded slowly and even though they were freezing due to the temperature, when their hot tongues met, Y/N felt a shiver on the back of her neck at the same time as Mark grabbed her hair.

Y/N sighed between the kiss and her hand went down to Mark's shoulder, where she held tightly while her heart was beating so fast it felt like it was going to explode, she felt his other hand grip her waist and he seemed focused on keeping their bodies together as if it was going to merge them, but Mark seemed to suck all her strength in that kiss and Y/N's lungs were already complaining about the lack of air, that’s why she lowered her hand to his chest and pushed him lightly.

Enough for their lips to move away, but Mark didn't move another inch, bringing their foreheads together.

"I thought you didn't like to do that in public." Y/N spoke, taking in a large amount of air and opened her eyes to see him staring at her with a twinkle in his eyes, his lips were red and swollen.

"It's not my fault, it was you who asked me to kiss you." he spoke with false innocence and she rolled her eyes but laughed anyway.

Y/N was feeling hot, not just in her cheeks but her whole body, like there was a volcano inside of her, looking at Mark so closely was doing certain things to her.

“Do you still want to buy the ice cream?” she saw Mark shake his head and he lifted his forehead to tuck her hair behind her ear, looking at her with an admiration that made her shy.

“No, I want to keep kissing you.” he admitted and Y/N bit her lip to control her huge smile, in vain of course.

"I guess I don't need to ask you anymore, isn’t?"

[absolute-immunities]

Travis Crum, The Lawfulness of the Fifteenth Amendment, 97 Notre Dame L. Rev. 1543, 1578–80 (2022) (footnotes omitted):

Although there were irregularities in the South for the ratifications of the Thirteenth and Fourteenth Amendments, Indiana presents a unique problem as a Northern State whose initial ratification [of the Fifteenth Amendment] is questionable.

Indiana’s ratification involved a series of political machinations. During the 1868 campaign, Republicans nationwide and in Indiana adopted a compromise position that advocated for black male suffrage in the South but not the North. After the Fifteenth Amendment’s passage by Congress, Democrats cried foul. State Representative John Coffroth, a leading Indiana Democrat, proposed that Democrats could delay the Fifteenth Amendment’s ratification by resigning en masse to deny the state legislature a quorum. On March 5, 1869, thirty-eight Democratic representatives and seventeen Democratic state senators did just that, plunging the state legislature into chaos. Under Indiana’s Constitution, a quorum of two-thirds of total members was required for each house.

In response, the Republican governor called for special elections to be held on April 8, 1869, to fill the seats. The Democrats promptly won back their seats and returned to Indianapolis following an agreement to help pass a budget and that a vote on the Fifteenth Amendment would not occur until the end of the session.

On May 13, 1869, the Democrats once again decided to resign en masse. This time, however, their plan failed. In the state senate, “the doors were ordered locked and the roll was called.” Although sixteen state senators had sent letters of resignation to the governor, many of them were still present in the chamber. The senate’s presiding officer ruled that, because those senators had not submitted resignation letters to the senate, they had not yet resigned. A quorum was declared and the Fifteenth Amendment passed 27–1, with eleven senators marked present but not voting. That same afternoon, Speaker of the Indiana House George Buskirk determined that the house lacked a quorum due, in part, to the resignation of twenty-seven Democratic representatives.

But the next day, Buskirk changed his mind following pressure from Indiana’s U.S. Senator, Oliver Morton. Buskirk decreed that a vote could proceed even though only fifty-seven members were present. When pressed by Coffroth to justify this ruling, Buskirk stated that Indiana’s Constitution required a quorum “for legislative business of any ordinary character” but not to ratify a constitutional amendment. In other words, the ratification process, as an act of federal lawmaking, need not follow the particularities of state law. The Indiana House then voted 54–3 to ratify the Fifteenth Amendment.

As such, Indiana’s state legislature was arguably a rump legislature when it adopted the Fifteenth Amendment. Nevertheless, Secretary Fish ignored the quorum issue and counted Indiana as a ratifying State. Indeed, unlike his discussion of New York and Georgia, Fish gave no indication that anything untoward happened in Indiana.

:')

[just-wrting]

How Did This Happen

Title: How Did This Happen

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Reader

Summary: You wake up in a world that you know nothing about. Thankfully a man who you will continue to not understand is there to save you.

Word Count: 1543

Master List

A/N: This is short and not 100% what I wanted but I wanted to leave it open like this cause I wanna watch season 2 and write more of this! The fish out of water prompt lends itself to an Isekai really well.

Maybe it’s been hours. Maybe it’s been only a few minutes. All you know is that your body aches and burns, but you know you can’t stop. Once you stop running, you’ll die.

You don’t know how you got here, wherever here is. You went to bed last night and woke up on a dusty old floor to a blast of hot air. The stench of rot made you want to vomit, but the thing that was standing in front of you made you want to scream.

Due to the darkness, you fall down the stairs. While it hurts, you’re positive that nothing is broken. Everything is severely bruised, but if you manage to get out of here you’ll be fine. Whatever the thing is, it keeps coming closer.

“I don’t wanna die. Please, someone please don’t let me die here,” you whimper.

Before you can blink, you're at the bottom of a second set of stairs. There’s a crash and smoke billows out from where you just were.

“Well, since you asked nicely, I’ll save you.”

There’s no defining features on the man who saved you, minus the soft looking white hair. You’re unsure how he can see, but you’re not going to judge someone who just saved your life.

“What about the thing? That was trying to kill me? Aren’t you in danger too?”

“I’ve never been in any danger,” he chirps with a grin. “In fact, I’m having my students deal with it.”

Despite your look of shock, the man keeps smiling. Now you’re one hundred percent sure that you aren’t in your world anymore. What sort of weird place did you end up in?

“Ah! You can just call me Gojo, I hope you aren’t too scared to explain how you got here.”

—-

You rub your arms, cold despite the long sleeves of the tracksuit. You’re grateful it’s a bit big on you, but you worry about the barely visible stains on it. Hopefully you aren’t just going insane and being held hostage by psychopaths.

The three teenagers stare at you, each with wildly different expressions. They have yet to introduce themselves, but you haven’t said anything either. Despite how many times you pinch yourself, you have yet to wake up.

“I’m so glad to see you getting along!” Gojo claps his hands together as he enters the room. “I was almost worried something bad would happen, leaving a stranger alone with my precious students.”

You don’t look up from your knees. You’ve curled up as best as you can on the couch, despite the cramping in your thighs. Your body is screaming for rest and sleep, but you don’t trust anyone yet.

“I just want to rest,” you mumbled. “I don’t even know where I am.”

“We’re on the outskirts of Tokyo! Have you ever been in the city?” the boy with pink hair asks excitedly. “I’m Itadori Yuji!”

The girl leans over and smacks him. “Don’t go around getting friendly! Who knows what sort of things could happen if you keep doing that!”

“Now, Nobara, we’re going to treat our guest kindly. Why don’t we all say one nice thing about meeting a new person?”

The childish smile is back on Gojo’s face. He seems more like he’s trying to be a kindergarten teacher than a high school teacher. None of the kids listen to what he says, and he starts to pout.

“Well if you three can’t play nice, it’s time to go to bed! It’s getting late after all. I’ll figure out what’s going on.”

The dark haired boy is silent as he stands and leaves. The other two continue to argue as they head out, leaving you to wonder what sort of dynamic they have. They seem close.

As soon as the door closes, Gojo sits across from you. His demeanor is so casual that you wonder if he’s actually unconcerned about the situation. It’s either that or he’s so confident in his abilities that you aren’t a threat.

“So what was someone like you doing in a place like that? Are you the type of person to explore abandoned buildings?” He’s cheerful, but you get the feeling he means business.

“I don’t know where I was or how I got there. I went to bed in my house last night and woke up this afternoon in that building. At least I think it was this afternoon.”

You get the feeling he’s watching you intently for any clues about your honesty. However, you feel no need to lie. Since you don’t know what is happening or where you are, it benefits you to be honest.

“You could see it, couldn’t you? That thing you were talking about is a curse. Most people can’t see them, but they can’t be left alone. Have you always been able to see them?”

You shake your head. “Never seen something like that in real life. Maybe in movies, but that’s debatable. I don’t even live near Tokyo. I just want to go home.”

You feel your eyes start to tear up. Within seconds, you’re crying uncontrollably. Fear and exhaustion have caught up with you. Your body is heavy.

“I wanna go home!”

The man panics and reaches out to pat your head. It’s the same sort of gesture someone would use to console a child. Somehow it works, and you feel your eyes shut.

—-

Despite the everyday asking, you haven’t caved. Gojo wakes you up every morning asking if you’ll consider training to be a jujutsu sorcerer. When you decline, he pouts and walks away sadly. You know he’s being dramatic on purpose, and you’re tempted to confront him about it. There has yet to be a good time for it.

“You seem to enjoy watching the training even if you won’t join,” he ponders. “Has it been changing your mind? You’re here earlier than you were yesterday.”

He isn’t watching the three train, instead focusing on you. Gojo is difficult to read, so you always feel hesitant to tell him things. Fortunately for him, his willingness to listen usually makes you talk.

“I couldn’t sleep last night. I had a nightmare. Don’t really want to talk about it.”

“Maybe training will help.”

You sigh and drop the conversation. He sure is stubborn about the strangest things. That doesn’t stop him from watching you for a little longer. By the time he looks away, you start to feel flustered. It’s not often that someone studies you.

“You’re impossible, Gojo.”

—-

You’re surprised to find Gojo in the kitchen. He’s been out for a few days doing whatever it is that he’s supposed to. You still haven’t grasped what it is that he does when he isn’t around, but it doesn’t bother you too much. There’s more important things to worry about, such as the fact that no matter how many times Fushiguro tells you and Itadori about curses, you don’t get it.

The most surprising thing is that Gojo owns more clothes than just that tacky tracksuit. You wouldn’t admit it to him, but you think he’d look better if he wore other things. Knowing him, he’d probably do something to make it weird.

“Ah! Are you also here for a snack?” he asks while shaking a box at you. “Or did you miss me?”

It’s irritating that you can’t tell his intentions or feelings. You snatch away what he’s made and study him from the counter. As soon as it hits you, you know you’ll feel silly for not realizing it sooner. What about him makes it so hard to read him?

“Maybe it’s the fact that you act childish.”

You start to think out loud. If you ramble on about it, you’ll figure it out.

“Maybe it’s because I don’t understand anything about curses. Is it because you’re a guy? That doesn’t seem like the right answer because I don’t struggle to read men either.”

Gojo keeps that smile plastered on his face. Suddenly it hits you.

“It’s because I can’t see your eyes. As much as I hate eye contact, you can tell a lot about someone through their eyes. After all, eyes are the window to the soul.”

“So you’d be able to tell me what I’m thinking, if you saw my eyes?”

Suddenly, he’s in front of you. One arm holds him against the counter, the other moves the food out of your hands. You do your best to scowl at him, but you know it’s probably a flustered sort of panic instead.

“Then do you want to see? Not many people can but you’re special. So don’t tell anyone else that you’ve seen them.”

With that, he pulls up the blindfold. You’re stunned by how pretty his eyes are. Bright blue with soft white eyelashes makes you think of cartoon ice surrounded by snow. They’re so striking that you want to look away.

“They’re so,” you start to say but drift off, unable to find the right word.

“If you keep this a secret, I’ll let you look at them more often.”

With that, he takes the food and heads out. You don’t know how to feel about Gojo, but one thing is for certain, you could easily find yourself falling for him.

[hetalianskywalker]

Day 4: The Lobster

Pairing: Mer Hardcase x Reader

Summary: A lobster starts talking to you.

Author’s Note: May The 4th Be With You! Have a wild Hardcase.

Warnings: A bit of cursing, but I think that’s it.

Word Count: 1543

Prompt: If a lobster talks, we throw it back, that’s the rule. Don’t ever strike a deal with one, no matter what it says is written in the stars.

Prompt 2711 by deepwaterwritingprompts

“If a lobster talks, we throw it back, that’s the rule. Don’t ever strike a deal with one, no matter what it says is written in the stars.” This piece of advice was one of the first things you were told upon starting work on this lobster boat. You had just shrugged it off as old wives tales until right now.

“Hello! I’m Hardcase!” Oh shit. That lobster is talking and waving a claw at you. You had been sorting through the lobsters in the trap to see which would be thrown back or taken to market. He was the last one in there and he just started talking. Somewhere in the back of your mind you remember what the captain had told you, but instead you stand there frozen in disbelief.

He tilts his had after a moment, seeming a bit worried.

“You okay?” The lobster scurries over to you and you realize this isn’t a dream when he gently pokes you.

“I…” You shake your head before slowly looking over your shoulders. Thankfully no one had noticed anything amiss yet. “I’m fine, but you need to go.”

“What? But!?” You gently scoop him up to toss him back into the water.

“Sorry, them’s the rules.”

“You can look the other way this one time! I just need some help getting home.”

“Isn’t the ocean your home?”

“Well… kinda. But that’s different. I’m actually a Mer clone.” He begins speaking a little too quick, but you keep up. “I think I died at the battle of Umbara. I don’t know how long it’s been, but I need to get back to my brothers.”

“What the…” You just blink; your mind trying to process that. “That battle happened…”

Your captain calls your name. You turn and put Hardcase behind your back, giving him a tired smile. He asks you if everything is alright and you quickly give the excuse of vertigo, but show him the empty lobster trap. You feel Hardcase cuddle into your hands, relaxing in your grip to not attract attention.

Thankfully the captain buys it, he yells over his shoulder to go drink some water or something before getting back to work. You quickly move out of everyone’s line of sight as you feel Hardcase climb up to your shoulder. You should throw him back in the water, but he hasn’t asked for anything unreasonable or even to make a deal with you. You sigh and wipe your hand down your face. You’re really going to help a lobster claiming he was a Mer huh?

“Can you find a place to stay hidden until we make it to shore?” The way the lobster began to hop around in excitement, even though you can’t read the emotions on his face, makes you smile.

“Six months!?” He leans over the side of the bucket of sea water you have him in. It turns out sneaking him off ship hadn’t been too hard, but figuring out how to help him next was. Sadly though, explaining how long he had been “gone” for had to come first. “I’ve been dead six months!?”

You nod, rubbing your temple. You had remembered hearing about the battle since it wasn’t too far from your home. How three Mer clones had snuck aboard a massive separatist battle ship and blown it up. Meeting one stuck in the body of a lobster is making your head hurt honestly.

“I’ll take it that you don’t remember being a lobster that long?” Hardcase shakes his head as you sigh.

“I got blown up. Then, I don’t know, I must have been in and out of consciousness for way longer than I thought. Next thing I knew I was crawling around on the ocean floor.” He hops back down into the water. You walk over to see him pacing around in the bucket, almost making you laugh.

“So what now?” Hardcase looks up at you, but continues to pace. “Do you still want to get back to your old battalion?”

“Yes.” He answers with so much determination and stops pacing, but then he seems to get a bit nervous. His legs begin quickly tapping continuously against the bucket floor. “But, we… we need to make a deal.”

“No.”

“Please!” Hardcase quickly responds. “While there is some truth to the legends, it’s just to turn me back. The other options would be going to Coruscant for Jedi help or Mandalore for Mer help. You don’t have the resources and I need to get back to my brothers.”

You groan, frowning down at the lobster as he looks up at you. Perhaps you should have just thrown him back in the water as your captain had told you, but you feel guilty as soon as you think about it.

“What would a deal entail?” The bucket tips over and the water spills all over your living room floor as he jumps with joy.

“Oops.” He looks up at you sheepishly, standing in the puddle. You should be mad, but laugher comes out instead. Soon you both are and you have a feeling he would be blushing if he could. He helps you clean as best he can as he explains what he knows about his current predicament.

It’s an old mer legend that he had heard a couple times from one of his trainers. Sometimes if a sacrifice of one’s life is truly selfless, the ocean allows an exchange of souls: a second chance. However the consciousness of the Mer is easily overpowered by the instincts of the creature they inhabit, plus a whole host of other things that can go wrong, making the process extremely dangerous.

“While I might be able to get help, the only way to really have a Mer body again is…”

“If you exchange something equivalent.” Your mind wanders back to the old myths. It’s a lot easier to understand with the lobsters being trapped Merpeople; desperation can bring out the worst in any being.

“Basically. How did he describe it…” Hardcase takes a moment to think, tapping his claw against his head. “Permanent transformation takes a lot of magic. From a normal human…”

He abruptly stops. It’s odd watching him go completely still as horror washes over him.

“Nevermind.”

“But-?!”

“I’m not going to ask that of you.”

The next plan is to help him get to Mandalore or Coruscant. However that becomes impossible as a battle begins to wage in the waters around your island. The canons shake your house, but your companion makes you laugh as he tries to catch as many glimpses of the fight as he can. The off and on squirmishes last for weeks and gives you time to get to know Hardcase.

Then finally, the separatists land on your island; the Mer clones and the republic had lost this area. People are fleeing from your village; either heading more inland to hide or risking being caught by a battleship while trying to flee in a boat. However, you have one other option left.

“Hardcase, either way I’m dead. I’d rather cut down my life span and have both of us survive this than both of us dead.” You hiss as you both hide in your house. Hardcase stares up at you before clinking his claws together.

“There is one other way.” He laughs what you have now come know as his nervous laugh. “But-but…”

“Case, please.” You can hear the eerie stop of the separatist golems in the distance.

“Ifwemarrytheoldmerway,oursharedenergyshouldletmehavemytrueformagain.” It takes you a moment to make out the rushed sentence and your face burns scarlet.

“Wh-what do we do?”

“We can still make a run for the ocean…” He fidgets again. “If you don’t want to. Cause this will be permanent.”

“Hardcase.” You say his name softly and full of affection. “It would be my honor. Now what do we do?”

The world goes silent a moment before he is giddy with excitement. You can’t help but smile as he urgently tells you that all you have to do is say four vows together in Mando’a. He says them first and then you say them together. The soft shimmer of ocean magic glows around both of you. You force your eyes shut; your stomach swirling with anxiety.

“Time to go, sweetheart.” The excitement in his tone makes you smile. A pair of arms swiftly picks you up bridal style. You clench your jaw to stop a sound from slipping out as he begins running for the beach. You finally open your eyes and look up at him, wrapping your arms around his neck. The white and blue armor glitters in the last rays of the drowning sun. He gives you a smile far brighter as his boots hit the water; time slows for a second as you drink up the bit of face you can see through the t-face of the helmet. Your eyes linger on the bit of blue tattoo you can see.

“Hey, get back here!” One of the golems yells at the two of you. You both only laugh as you feel him begin to shift into his Mer form; the familiar feeling of sea magic engulfs the both of you as he dives into deeper water.

[ansbobcar]

EP 18 - The Researcher, the Rulemaker, and the Tamer

WORD COUNT. 1543

Link to overview

_ _ _ _ _

A rather odd combination of companions were having tea with her following Orter’s stuffed schedule of 3 days. In his words: “Think of it as the cost of losing a week's worth of time,” as he began picking through the mountains of papers sent to his room. Including some of her own she’d later realise.

“Seems like a fine punishment,” petting Hippo-tan, as she briefly went over the situation. “Did you ask him where he went?” She shook her head in disagreement.

“What if he’s seeing someone behind—” interrupted by the sudden tight grip on her shoulder “—please stop it, Ryoh,” glaring at the most veteran Divine Visionary in the room. 

There was no need to bring up such a concern as infidelity if the response was only going to be: “I trust him. It’s not like I own him.”

Even more convincingly, the strongest magic user broke out in a giggling fit. “Oh to be called a ‘sunshine’ by him,” with a smirk. “You do take after me!” Like god-father, like god-daughter. As he cried into the bookworm’s shoulder.

“Rinka, can I ruin his hair for 30 minutes?”

“Isn’t that too short?”

“You’re right, Agito,” she whipped her head again towards the blonde. “Make it 60.” Causing his distress to increase with a paler complexion as he tried to get sympathy and pity out of the woman. ‘Please let this old man live, daughter of mine.’

“Let me get the timer,” she stood up.

“NOOOOOO!!!”

It would be wrong to not talk about how her heart leapt at his sudden gesture but they were supposed to be used to it. Even though it’s barely been 4 months since she suggested this or 7 months if they were faking the history. It’s technically not fake… but it’s not of genuine romantic origin either. She should ask for clarification later on before it falls apart. As Hippo-tan anchored Ryoh in place while she grabbed the hourglass. There’s still time to figure out these feelings.

_ _ _

Time passes with their duties occupying their time. In particular, there’s been some odd movements of certain magical creatures. So far, the most crucial and concerning were the dragons. “Some move north for hibernation and their eggs, and some move south like the birds.”

“But that’s the territory of the elves, is it not?” The blue-haired teen pointed at where the two groups intersected. 

“We’re on good terms with the elves, you think it’s possible to stop by to ask them about it?”

“I don’t think that’s necessary. Hippo-tan’s familiar with that area and knows his kind better,” much to the other two’s surprise. Who knew Agito Tyrone’s pet dragon had such vast knowledge? Watching at the shrunken creature, waddled on the map and yipped. Almost like a dog towards them. “Hippo-tan said that although it’s considered the elves’ territory, the forest here”--within the intersecting area--“is actually a common… stop for dragons when migrating. However, the timing is a month early. That means something or someone has interfered with the environment north and south.” The orange dragon huffed, smoke rose from their jaw before letting out a grunt.

“But there haven’t been any reports about environmental destruction,” Tsurara recounted still stumped by this case. “Then shouldn’t Agito try asking the other dragons at the intersection? It would save on time,” she suggested, holding onto a heat retaining object. Silence permeated through the room as the dragon turned towards her.

“The elves do not particularly… enjoy my presence,” attempting to hide the grin that suddenly widened at the thought. “After all…”

“Do you need us to follow as well?” The Blood Cane tried to alleviate his discomfort. He was crucial for the task at hand. Irreplaceable. “We can go as a group if needed, I can carry everyone as,” she stopped as Hippo-tan drooped on the table and with suppressed calmness, the Dragon Cane held her hands.

“Please use a translation or universal language spell, miss.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Do you need me to bring Renatus along?”

“It’s fine. Please use the translation spell you taught me.”

With a hint of dejectedness, her hand dropped back to her side with little control as he let go. She let out a sigh, “Alright.”

_ _ _

Their trip across the plains was peaceful with Tsurara’s arms wrapped around Rinka’s torso as they flew towards the location. “I’m sorry, R-rinka, I can’t fly as well as you,” she stammered. Out of all her classes, she suffered the most in regards to broom flying. Unable to focus on the surroundings without feeling like barfing. “It’s fine, an urgent matter is an urgent matter. Plus you have better range than me.”

“But… I haven’t done anything so far either…”

What has she ever done since she stepped foot into the Bureau? Through all the freezing outbursts, and slips in the halls, she was there to burn brightly. A guiding light in her isolated and perilous place.

To be able to learn and apply magic beyond her own is something she herself is envious of. She only had ice. Solid, sharp, slippery blocks, surfaces. She couldn’t manipulate it that well either. The sheer output destroyed that seaside town after all… and only one person was reported injured in their report, The Blood Cane. 

“You’ve done plenty already with the projects and I’m sure you helped out Ms. Ivona when she joined us. By the way, you’re not burning right?”

“No, you’re warm,” as she always was. “You’re like your own sun.” Even if something felt extremely wrong to her, she couldn’t tell what it was. Or rather found it hard to believe… how did Rinka begin the relationship if only she was around him at the time? Doesn’t Orter care about her as much as she did if not even more?

Even without looking back from the casket during the funeral service, he uttered with suppressed determined rage. “I will find the perpetrator.” He had left before the burial as well.

Don’t get her wrong. She appreciated her senior and junior as much as the next person in the Bureau. They’ve done a lot already than she could hope to imagine. It’s just… it wasn’t something she could alleviate from her heart which ached with mild disdain towards the two.

“Don’t be like that Tsura!” Holding onto her hands, she felt considerably heated and flushed in her light blue presence. The same fingers chipped away at her icy reaction. “It hasn’t been that long yet but he’ll get used to me and my presence.”

‘Did he though? Even after all this time?’ 

_ _ _

“What do you mean you haven’t heard from Rinka or Tsurara for the past two days?” Ryoh looked at the younger man sceptically who was fiddling with his thumbs. “Weren’t you three tasked with investigating the odd migration patterns?” He nodded. “Then?”

“They haven’t notified me since they left. I’m sorry,” but staying mad towards his junior wasn’t worth it. Not for their time when these were pressing matters. “I would recommend retracing their steps or asking the director for help if you want to be able to contact them easily.” He seemed shocked by this comment. 

“It’s… possible to ask the director?”

“Of course! Follow me!”

However, the two didn’t expect to hear the door slam shut followed by a muffled argument ensuing with little room to breathe. That is of course until they also entered. “They found an illegal lab in the north.”

“That’s exactly why you should send--” his eyes made contact with the Dragon holding Divine Visionary and tensed, “you. This is your domain. Why is a researcher and a rulemaker going in your stead?” He seethed.

“I didn’t want to inhibit the investigation… the Elves and I are on less than amicable terms, it would’ve resulted in a longer investigation.”

“No it wouldn’t! It resulted in the possible loss of 2 Divine Visionaries! We can’t afford that!”

“Now, Divine Visionaries, settle yourselves,” the director’s taps echoed throughout the room. “What brings you two here?” Gesturing towards those opposite the maddened Madl. They quickly explained their intentions. “It is about the same situation. In regards to the two, they told me in detail that they would prefer either Agito or Kaldo to take over. Mainly, in regards to investigating the southern region.”

“What about right now?” Ryoh wondered.

Appearing amidst green smoke were the two, hair frosted in the air and skin pale with markers of white still present. In ill-fitting clothes, she was carrying the younger on her shoulder like a sac of grains. “Director. The lab houses multiple citizens who have become lack-magics. Please transport the cargo from the coordinates to the Magical Cemetery,” before drawing out a shaky breath. “I’ll be at the infirmary.”

With that, the process of a mass burial of more than 200 lack-magics has resulted in the investigation to continue for the next month. The two divine visionaries were requested to make a speedy recovery and for the Blood Cane specifically, manage the younger teen’s state. “Don’t let anyone else tamper with her recovery,” were the director’s words. Fix her state.

Hiding the bitterness in her voice, she replied. “Yes, sir.”

_ _ _ _ _

[sparrowandbee]

Introduction | Chapter 1, Part 2

Synopsis: 68 ADD marks the last year that Marian Cartwright is eligible for reaping into The Hunger Games. Will the odds be in her favor? Or will she be made to pay for her luck in the previous six years?

Author’s Note: I decided to split this first chapter up into to sections since I personally prefer to read shorter chapters. Let me know what you’d prefer to read!

Word Count: 1543

The sun was beating down on my face as we stood shoulder to shoulder, the smell of coal always lingering on my loose curly hair and ever blackened hands. Despite only a few clouds obstructing the clear blue sky, even the sunshine couldn’t change the dirty grey landscape of District 12.

It was my seventh reaping and the lingering dread no longer shocked me as it did in the years before. My name was written in 21 times that year- the slips of paper mingling with each other in the glass orb just a few feet from me- but I’d been around long enough to know that it didn’t matter how many names anyone had in there; the Capitol’s cruelty knew no fairness.

I had seen kids as young as 12 and as old as 17 be chosen and met with the same fate. Whether they stepped up in tears or in confidence, they all ended up as a nationally televised corpse.

I looked around at the girls standing with me and recognized a few of them from earlier reapings. There were two who wore a new dress every year, their black hair always in pretty updos. Their father was a mine supervisor, so they clearly had Capitol money. They would giggle and whisper to each other and I’d always caught different boy’s names being tossed around.

To my left were a few girls I’d seen around the mines before. They had always been a quiet trio but held on to each other for the entirety of the event, their knuckles getting bone-white as they squeezed their thin, pale hands.

We each inhabited different worlds within the same small district, but we were united by each July 4th, seeing each other’s familiar faces grow longer and more adult, beating the odds by returning every year, despite the Capitol’s desire to exterminate us. Our own tiny resistance.

The reaping was so quiet when we were 12.

I remember no one dared even whisper. But at 18, everyone acted as though this was just another bureaucratic inconvenience. As a lot of us had started to face real struggles in the latter years of our childhood, the Games just got more distant… more arbitrary. We had real things to worry about now.

I scanned my surroundings out of both habit and boredom. Frankly, most girls looked the same- mousy hair and sunken faces. From the far end of the field I spotted the braided blonde hair of Evaline Wergeld, daughter of a butcher I’d been avoiding since he caught me taking some of his bits at the Hobb. My head snapped back to avoid making eye contact, just as my belly let out a loud rumble.

No one turned around, of course.

Hunger was as much part of District 12’s soundscape as the song of the mockingjays overhead or the rustling of the trees against the breeze. It wasn’t anything to be noticed, particularly not from the scrawny orphan girl.

I was too busy worrying about whether I’d be able to scrap enough coins to eat something at night rather than entertain the thought of being picked out of hundreds of girls- especially since it was my last year being eligible.

I had survived 18 years of strife and self-sufficiency, needing nothing and being noticed by no one. This too would come and pass, like everything else before it, I thought as I stood in the barren yard amidst the other grim girls of District 12.

The mayor began the process with a tedious speech no one paid attention to. Instead I tried to get the coal dust out from under my short, bare fingernails.

“Welcome all and happy Hunger Games!,” the overexcited Capitol representative with voluptuous, undulating red hair exclaimed into the microphone, causing uncomfortable feedback. I don’t remember her name. We got a new presenter nearly every year- no one wanted to be stuck in 12.

I shifted, my newly stolen shoes still uncomfortable. It was strange to be this close to the stage, just three rows away from the pomp which always seemed so distant from the barren landscape. “And as always, may the odds be ever in your favour!” Her Capitol inflexion grated my ears as the wind caught one of the many ruffles on her flowy white dress.

As they did every year, a propaganda video was broadcast on the large screens on either side of the field.

As we did every year, everybody ignored it, preferring to fiddle with braids or straighten a washed-out floral dress.

I looked down and traced the outline of the delicate butterflies on my once-purple threadbare shift dress. It was the only dress I owned, and despite its tattered state, it was the most beautiful thing.

“What a wonderful message from our President Snow!” I looked up to see the announcer smiling widely, showing her blindingly white teeth through her purple lipstick.

“Now we will select one brave young man and woman who will have the honour of representing District 12 in the 68th Hunger Games!” She paused, clearly expecting applause. I sighed, not caring enough to roll my eyes. Rent was due in two days and I couldn’t be evicted again. I may be able to steal some food from the bakery so I can make it in time; everyone seemed to get distracted during the Games.

“Okay, ladies first!” Everything from her mouth was an abundant exclamation, and her words still echoed as her white heels ‘clicked’ and she reached her hand into the large glass bowl. The world went still; I’ve never experienced silence like the reaping, as if everybody’s heartbeats were suspended in unison.

Worry flickered through me then. As much as I tried to reassure myself, the threat was so present, looming over the heads of every child on the field. My stomach hurt not out of hunger but anxious nausea. No one was ever safe.

“And our lucky tribute is…” She stepped back in front of the polished silver microphone, her glittery green and purple eye makeup glistening against the artificial lights as she looked down to read the slip of paper, “Marian Cartwright!”

My name echoed through the yard. My heart dropped as my veins ran with ice, despite the sweat dripping on my brow. The girls standing next to me looked around, not recognizing the name of a seemingly invisible girl.

Seven years and for the last time of course I was made to pay for my survival- a cruel karmic trick for the girl who has nothing to live for.

Fitting. Poetic, even.

The girls around me retreated, probably realizing that I was the only one none of them identified. Slowly, they all held onto each other and moved back, creating a bubble around me, as if they would catch my bad luck if they stood too close.

In my 10 years of solitude, I’ve never felt more isolated, more judged or pitied- or perceived.

I looked up to the screens and found my face already projected on the stage. The announcer never let her smile slip and I cautiously walked towards her, flanked by two peacekeepers. My blood rushed at an inhuman speed, fueled by my anxiety and fear, feeling like I was moving against my will.

The stage lights were brighter up close than they looked from the floor. The announcer gestured her green gloved hand for me to step towards her. I couldn’t stop looking at the texture left by her thick, pale makeup. I could make out every wrinkle and crack on the surface which looked so flawless from far away.

I looked down at the worn brown leather Mary Janes I stole from my last landlady just a month ago. They were too small for me. I didn’t want to see anyone in the crowd, not because I particularly cared about them but because I couldn’t stand their pitiful looks.

Pity from people who never bothered to help.

“Alder Oakley!” I looked up to see the male tribute making his way to the stage, fear so clearly coloured his face. I tried to keep my gaze withdrawn until he stood next to me, to retain some dignity on his walk of shame.

He smelled fresh and clean when he stood next to me. He could probably afford those oils sold on the road by the seamstress. His button-up shirt was off-white and neatly pressed, the seams were all intact, a tell of light wear.

So he had some money to spare, but really, he looked like every other District 12 boy. A bit of musculature from a childhood preparing to work in the mines and a clean-shaven face. There was a bit of dirt on his hair, he was probably cutting wood for fire that morning.

He took my hand in his as the announcer exclaimed our names: “Marian Cartwright and Alder Oakley, your District 12 tributes!” but I kept my eyes down, with no intention of playing along.

With that, my fate was sealed with only the certainty of my imminent death.

—

Next Chapter

Masterlist

[cordeliasdarling]

under her spell

pairing: ms venable x reader

word count: 1543

summary: ms venable leaves you needy everyday. that’s it basically lmao.

a/n: sorry this is really bad but i had a dream and i had to write it down. the smut is terrible but we vibing soo..

warnings: smut, masturbation

****

Tick tok, tik tok..

Your eyes watched each second pass on the clock. It was painstaking, every movement of the smallest hand was agonising.

Finally it reached five o'clock, and you stood up from behind your desk, packing your bag quickly. This didn't go unnoticed by the woman who had caused this urgency in you.

"In a rush?"

Oh that voice. It only made things worse.

You forced a smile, turning your head to see Ms Venable, seated and looking at you with a curious expression.

"Yes, I have plans."

Your tone was stilted, each syllable strained between your teeth. It wasn't out of hate, no, of course not. It was out of pure and utter desire. You see, the reason you were in a such a hurry, was because you couldn't stand to be a second longer in her company or else you would explode with neediness.

"You've said the same thing for a week."

Her low tone made you shudder inside. Why was it that her pronunciation consequently caused a ripple inside your body. You chose not to reply to her comment. It wasn't a question therefore it didn't need an answer. You instead slung the strap of your bag over your shoulder and made for the door. But a single tap of the cane stopped you in your tracks.

Turning your head, you saw Ms Venable's expression changed, a hint of irritation behind it. You cleared your throat, hating to admit that you were one of those people who froze when she tapped her cane against the hard floor. It was effective though, you'd give her that.

"If you flee the room again tomorrow, be prepared to give me a full explanation." Her tone was stern, sending electric shocks through your body, starting at your heart and ending between your legs.

"Yes, Ms Venable." With a slight nod, you left the room, closing the door behind you. You barely registered the drive home, it was like a time skip in a film. Next thing you knew you were sprawled out on your bed, hand working quickly to relieve the pent up pressure from the day.

"Fuck.." You mumbled, fingers drawing circles around your clit. It wasn't enough. You needed Ms Venable.

Oh.. Ms Venable..

Ever since you started working at Kineros, that woman had caught your eye. Of course she did, everyone was intimidated by her, but it was no secret that she was stunning. Even those most scared of her would have to admit she was blessed with looks. You had managed to keep your attraction in reigns, making sure not to think about her too much out of working hours, but the last week had been too hard.

It started off on Monday. You had walked into your shared office (as you were her assistant), and laid eyes upon the woman. She always wore a similar outfit, a lilac blazer, white shirt, tie, and a skirt that hugged her curves. But that day.. her shirt was undone by a few buttons, revealing the hum of her violet laced bra. She didn't seem to care, although you noticed that when she left the office later that morning, she did the buttons up. It had swarmed your mind all day, the image of her, wearing nothing but underwear. It was impossible to keep your mind at bay.

Then Tuesday. This time it was her skirt. It was a few inches shorter, riding up her thigh as she crossed her legs under the table. Your view from your desk gave a perfect angle, seeing all the way up her thigh. She seemed unbothered again, her gaze always on her laptop, working away.

Fuck.

Fast forward to Thursday, it was all too much. This was the forth time of the week you found yourself escaping work  just to go home to touch yourself. There was no other way to ease the pressure, but even that didn't fully satisfy you.

And that's how that very evening you found yourself standing outside the 'sex shop' in town. Your cheeks were stained pink, you were humiliated that it had come to this. But you took in a deep breath and entered.

**

You walked out of the shop clutching a black bag with a red bow, trying to hide it under your coat. Surely people could recognise where this bag was from. Although you shouldn't have been ashamed, there was nothing embarrassing about buying such things. No, the embarrassing part came afterwards.

In a split second after you had crossed the road, your eyes locked with another woman. Ms Venable to be precise. She was holding a shopping bag, placing it into the trunk of her expensive looking car. She straightened up, watching you with curiosity, perhaps wondering why you weren't with friends, carrying out your 'plans'.

"Hi, Ms Venable." You managed to choke out the words. A faint smile tugged on her lips, and you realised it was because she had noticed the bag poking out of your coat. A horrified inaudible squeak left you. If the ground swallowed you whole you definitely wouldn't complain. Maybe swallowed and thrown into a volcano, because that's how it felt.

"See you tomorrow." Her dismissal confused you. Surely she would have made conversation, small talk, or even just tease me for buying things at the sex shop. But no, she got into her car and drove away.

You were left stunned, but also needy. You hadn't seen her smile remotely, but there had been a faint one when she saw the bag. Urgh, this woman drove you crazy.

**

You walked into the office on Friday with confidence, a smile on my face. You were almost satisfied. Buying those things had definitely been a good investment. It didn't quite hit the mark, but it was enough to get you through the day. Or so you thought.

Ms Venable was sat behind her desk, one button on her shirt lower than before. I could see the curve of the gap between each breast. Your eyes widened, freezing for a moment, before your brain rebooted, mechanically forcing you to sit at your desk.

Holy fuck holy fuck holy fuck holy fuck.

The ache between your legs grew back instantly. All you could think about was her bending you down over the desk and-

"Long night?"

You looked up, ready to shake your head, but you saw her smirk. You knew exactly why she asked that question. Cheeks flushed pink, you tried to focus on the morning work.

But you couldn't.

You mentally screamed, yelled, sighed. There was only one option if I wanted to get through the day. You stood up, excusing yourself and rushing off to the restroom. It was extremely lucky the restrooms were individual, you didn't have to go into stalls.

Your shaky hand locked the door, and immediately pulled down your slacks, fingers sliding over your heat. You were already soaked, groaning quietly as your fingers relieved the intense pressure. Your spare hand covered your mouth as your hand moved frantically.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door, pulling you out of your trance. I quickly pulled my slacks up, rinsed my hand and took a deep breath. Wasn't there other restrooms other people could use?

You opened the door, revealing Ms Venable standing there. Shock rushed through you, and it showed on your expression. She let out a small chuckle, stepping into the restroom. You had to take a step back as you watched her lock the door.

"You thought I wouldn't notice you running off to touch yourself?" There was humour in her voice, eyes dark as she scanned me. Her eyes landed straight to the undone zip on my slacks. Damn it!

"U-uh.." You desperately tried to think up an explanation, but being this close to her was sending your mind into overdrive, causing you to whimper as she took one step closer.

Suddenly you were pushed against the wall, Ms Venable's strong arm holding you there. You hesitated, her face so close to you. You decided to kiss her.

It was like magic, she kissed back with an equal amount of passion.

Her left hand slid down your front, slipping into your underwear and beginning to stroke your clit. She chuckled again, noticing how wet you were.

"I'm guessing those sex toys didn't do much to help." You hated that she was right. She was always right.

"Y-yes.." You gasped as two slender fingers slid into you with ease. "Fuck!" Your hand clamped over your mouth quickly to muffle your noises. This woman made you moan like you'd never moaned before.

Her fingers were quick, pumping into you like there was no tomorrow. If you weren't very much mistaken, she seemed to be letting off some built up steam. Was that because of you?

"You have no idea how long I've been waiting to do this." She murmured as she reached your most sensitive spot. You muffled a cry of pleasure as the knot in your stomach grew and grew.

"P-please, I'm gon-" You managed to whisper before a long awaited orgasm washed through you. She slowed down, pulling her fingers out. She smirked at how wet they were. She then licked them clean, making your knees weak because it was so hot.

"I hope you'll stop touching yourself and wait for me to satisfy you." She spoke in a humoured tone, and then simply left, leaving you in the restroom, weak, dizzy with euphoria.

And completely under her spell.

****

[lola-andheruniverse]

Fix It Wednesday - Caryl Fanfiction Rec

The most amazing thing about fanfiction? It can right that infuriating wrong TPTB made on your, mine, our favorite show. Caryl were wronged so many times and the amount of fanfiction giving us glorious alternative resolutions are enourmous.

For today, I selected Worth the Wait by @gunmetal-ring [ AO3 | 9Lives ], an amazing angst-cute fix-it to S9E1 "A New Beginning".

Summary: Carol sees her future, and she's not sure she wants it. Rating: T / Teen and Up Audiences Word count: 1543 Published: May 09, 2021

I really love this fic, fellow carylers, because it fixes an entire arc just by letting Carol and Daryl TALK. Yep, this thing we've been asking since Terminus, let them talk! Gunmetal wrote a beautiful dialogue with just enough imagery and actions that translate to us, readers, as living and breathing caryl. They talk just enough, and it changes everything.

Sit for just twenty minutes and give it a read. I know you'll love it. As always, don't forget to leave the author some love while you're at it - feedback is life!

[bump1nthen1ght]

A Very Monstrous Kinktober (2024) Day 30 - Spanking

Kink: Spanking

Pairing: M!Reader x M!Werewolf

Other kinks: Pet play, Degradation, Slight infantilization, Mutual Masturbation

Word Count: 1543 words

Kinktober Masterlist

“You know,” A claw digs into your neck, “-we don’t have to do this.” You suck in a breath through your nose, the collar being tightened around your throat nearly stealing it from your lungs. “Or, I guess I should say, we wouldn’t have to do this if you just behaved.” Another tug, yanking you forward as the leather is pulled to the farthest notch, finally tight enough for Ferdinand’s liking. He pushes the metal strap through, locking it in place. The leather itself is comfortable, but the hold it has on your neck is less so. Not enough to have you choking, but definitely enough to remind you its there. “Do you understand me?”

You nod, voice caught by the suffocating collar. Another yank, this time from the leash, Ferdinand’s claws digging into the back of your skull. He forces your head backwards, looking straight into his blown out pupils.

“I said-” His claws dig in, “Do you understand me?”

This close, you can see his nostrils flaring, smell his hot breath as it blows across your face. His muzzle is so close your noses almost touch.

“Y-yes, sir.”

“Then apologize.” Ferdinand sneers, lips curling back to show rows and rows of pearly white canines.

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“For what?”

“For disobeying you.”

He releases his grip on your head, his rougher paw pads rubbing at the raw skin. His face is still curled up in a sneer, but he looks slightly more pleased.

“Good boy.” Ferdinand tugs hard on your leash, forcing you to fall over, face resting against his legs. He huffs. “Now, follow me.” His hand loops around the leash, keeping the line taut as he saunters off to his chair. His chair, not your chair, far too plush and opulent for a disobedient pet like you. Your knees feel raw against the hardwood, forced to crawl on all fours and follow him. Goosebumps ripple across your skin, the air icy-cold and biting against your bare body. Ferdinand always keeps it that way, his thick fur and love of bespoke suits meaning he gets hot easily.

Ferdinand elegantly sits down, a sizeable bulge pitching in his iron-pressd pants. It’s the only indication of his true intentions, that despite his sneers, he loves when your disobedient. He yanks on the leash again.

“Sit across my knees.”

You scramble up him, careful to not dirty his fine clothes with your hands that touched the floor. He’s so warm, it’s hard not to curl up into his lap and touch him all over. No, that would mean more punishment.

The bulge digs into your lower abdomen, dangerously close to your own hard-on, which pulses with blood as you arch over Ferdinand's legs. It was robbed from release earlier today, having been caught humping your masters pillow when he returned early from work. It ached for his touch, his smell, his everything. It twitches when a rough hand brushes across your ass, admires the shape of your cheeks, bent over and at his discretion.

“We’ll start with five.” Ferdinand whispers. “One for each minute you spent…debauching yourself before you realized I was home.” His claws flick out, the sharpness now dancing across the fat. “If you’re good, that’s all it will be. So make sure to keep count, this time.”

Ferdinand yanks on the collar again, another reminder of his control. You gulp, remembering the way your ass stung for days when you messed up counting last time.

He’s slow, drawing his arm back, just torturing you with anticipation. But his strike is anything but slow.

“One!” You gasp, digging your nails into your palms.

“Good.” Ferdinand whispers under his breath. He reels back and strikes you again, on the other cheek.

“Two!” You feel his bulge twitching underneath you. The feeling goes straight to your cock, balls aching.

He hits twice, in rapid succession, one for each cheek. You feel dizzy, but still count.

“Three! Four!” Ferdinand hums, displeased. You’ve kept up so far, only one left to catch you lacking and try to prolong your punishment. He’s got to be tricky.

“A-ah!” The warmth of Ferdinand's hands on your balls is shocking, your spine curling. Pre-cum beads at your tip, mind and body disconnected from their wants.

“Ugh, look at what you’ve done, pet.” Ferdinand cranes his head, eyes up your leaking cock. “You’ve stained my favorite trousers.” His hands leaves your balls and squeezes your cock instead, more pre gushing down your shaft and all down Ferdinand’s inner thighs. “That’ll be three more. Keep counting.”

Ferdinand leaves a grip on your cock, teasing you by keeping it rigid and still, just holding around your shaft. His other hand spanks, hard.

“Five!” The words barely get out when he slaps again. “Six!” And again. “Seven!”

Ferdinand tightens his grip and squeezes up your dick. Your hips, independent of your better sense, ruts into his palm. Ferdinand clicks his teeth.

“I didn’t say you could move. Two more.”

Ferdinand’s hand moves like a machine, ramping up its speed and landing the next two quickly.

“Eight! Nine!” The hand on your cock has reached your sensitive head. It squeezes, then slides back down, jerking you off in slow motion. “Te-en!” Neck aching, you rest your forehead against the chair’s arm. The sweat peppering your brow hasn’t even settled into the fabric before you realize that you’ve fucked up.

Three more slaps across the ass.

“Don’t touch the chair.”

“E-eleven.” You gasp for breath, vision foggy as you force your head to crane up. “Twelve….thirteen.”

Ferdinand pauses, what would be a mercy except for the treacherous anxiety it leaves you with.

A muscled, furry arm circles around your stomach, yanks you like a ragdoll and twists you around. It positions you to be sitting on Ferdinands lap, his raging hard on now right in front of your weeping one.

“I see you learned your lesson from last time.” Ferdinand hums, muzzle nuzzled into the back of your neck. “You did good, but I think you still have a lesson to learn.”

You bite your lip when Ferdinands cock flops out, hot and throbbing. It’s also weeping precum, the veins prominent and the head a dark purple.

A million possibilities fly through your mind. Does he want you to jerk him off, suck him off, edge yourself while he achieves his high? But then grasps his own cock, rubbing his thumb across the wet slit.

“Touch yourself, pet. Finish what you started.”

A whine comes from your chest. Now you get it.

Your hand isn't nearly as big as Ferdinands, nor as warm. Your body yearns for him, to lean down and kiss his cock. But that would be counterintuitive to your lesson; if you won’t wait for your master to pleasure you, then you don’t deserve to jerk him off. Or for him to jerk you off, for that matter.

Still, the heat in your belly burns as Ferdinand strokes his perfect cock. Drool pools in your mouth, your pace sloppy up and down your dick. Your breathy whines are pathetic, hips humping into your tight grip, trying to recreate the feeling of his hand on you. But you could never match Ferdinands grace, the warmth of his paw pad and his controlled strokes.

You arche into Ferdinand’s lap, turning your face to nuzzle into his neck. At least you can smell him when you jerk off, stuff your nose into his fur and huff his musky pheromones. He’s feeling nice, not forcing you to look ahead, instead stroking up and down your chest with his free hand.

“I do this for you, little one.” Ferdinand pants, dulcet voice directly in your ear. The slapping sound of his hand jerking himself off rings in the background. “Because you need to learn, need to remember your place. It’s for your own good.” His hips jump up, throwing you slightly in turn. You moan. “You need me, need me to guide you. To show you what’s right.”

The breath hitches in his chest, you can feel it catch against your back. He’s getting close, and if you’re lucky he’ll cum up your stomach, let you at least bathe in his scent for a bit longer. Maybe even let you suck him clean after, feel him soften in your mouth. The knot in your stomach pulls atut.

“Cum for me, pet. Cum all over yourself.”

That’s the permission you need.

“Ah!” Your whole body spasms as you explode in your hand, cum splattering across our stomach. When you are still riding the high, your master cums. Seems he was impressed by your obedience, as he aims it right when he does to splatter all across your chest. It goes high enough to reach your neck, thick and viscous and plenty to cover your whole abdomen. The excitement has you dizzy, seeing spots.

You collapse into your masters lap, still conscious enough to not fall off and potentially stain his chair. No, your master wraps an arm around your stomach and keeps you lying against him, whispering in your ear.

“See? You can be good after all.”