#workshop that please I'm so tired

[postcardsfromheapside]

Quick, does someone have a screenshot of the Formless One in Dragon mode. This needs to be a text post. The “I'm definitely not crushing on you” all-caps missive it sends after being defeated had me SCREAMING. Mercia where are you.

[sweatervest-obsessed]

Last, Last Time

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader (she/her pronouns)

WC: ~7.3k

TW: Angst, guns, violence, mentions of domestic violence, blood, swearing, depression, kidnapping, manipulation, self-deprecating thoughts, heartbreak, arguing, the grieving process, drinking, screaming, crying, sobbing, throwing up, being under pressure, and anything else that comes with a criminal minds episode.

a/n: based on S15 E6 - first date. I love u aubrey plaza <3. Also inspired by the song Last, Last Time by Boys Go To Jupitar. writing this was a little bit of a catharsis since it's one of the first things I've been able to write. I'm sorry I've been so m.i.a., i just moved to a new country and that has been a crazy experience. But to cope with that, enjoy some gut-wrenching angst!

Alternate Ending! Spencer Masterlist

“Spencer I won’t—I can’t keep doing this. I’m sick of arguing in circles.” 

“Y/n…”

“I-I feel like you take me for fucking granted Spencer. All I do is work and then come home and wait for you to actually be able to, I don’t know, sleep in the same bed as me for more than four hours.”

The look in his eyes almost took you out but your heart had already been broken long, long before this argument. If anything, you were starting to feel this sense of freedom as you broke his heart. 

“Please. Y/n. Just–I don’t—Just give me a few days to convince Hotch to let me have some time off and we can work on this please.” 

“Wait for the potential of us?” 

Spencer’s jaw loosened. You couldn’t read beyond the initial layer of pain and confusion, which made your chest ache since not too long ago you could have been able to find everything you needed in his expression.

“God Spencer this can’t be fucking news to you. We’ve been drifting apart for months now.” 

“I know, I know. You have been so patient with me and I’ve just been….there was that whole thing with Cat and then….I-I was trying so hard y/n…”

“No, first there was that whole thing with Maeve.”

“That’s not fair—”

“Oh that’s not fair? Really? You’re going to tell me the entire Maeve thing isn’t fair to you?”

“I’m sorry.”

You sighed and closed your eyes. “I’m not saying you weren’t trying but come one Spencer. There’s no need to deny this shit anymore. I hate it when you lie to me about these kinds of things.” 

Spencer’s hand came up to his face and it dragged down, aging him significantly with the fatigue written all over his face. 

“So you’re just going to pack up everything, break my heart, and leave? Were you even going to say goodbye, or was I going to come home to an empty home. A note or....” 

“I-I don’t know Spencer. I just don’t…” 

The tears were starting to creep in, and you had to place the box down before you lost it.

“This isn’t easy for me either…” Your chest heaved. 

The both of you stood in silence, tension simmering surrounding the both of you like heat on a summer’s eve. Neither of you could really look at one another, but it felt wrong to look at anything else. Something was missing but you couldn’t say it outloud. You knew you would always love Spencer Reid but this time it was not enough. 

“I’m tired of arguing Spencer.” 

Your eyes met his. You felt Spencer’s arms around you before you could even feel the tears hit your cheeks. Your arms immediately went to his neck, so familiar. No longer home. 

Spencer’s voice muttered into your ear. “Don’t cry Jolie. It’ll be okay..” 

About three years ago, Spencer had decided that he didn’t like that you had nicknames for him, and he had none for you. He spent weeks workshopping different ones : Sugar, Honey, Pumpkin, Sweetheart, Darlin, Pookie, Lover, Sunny (like sunshine), Sunshine—it was a wild few weeks trying to figure out who he was talking to. Then one day, offhandedly, he was trying to tell you about this french film he had been watching, and trying to get Emily to watch with him. 

He called you ‘tres jolie’, and blushing you had asked him what it meant. He told you it meant pretty. 

And it stuck. 

Now? It stung. 

All you could do was squeeze tightly onto him, not ready to let go.

“You’re so pretty when you’re lying through your teeth.” You whispered after a few moments, pulling away out of his arms. 

“I.” You swallow and step back, out of his reach. “Maybe I’ll...” 

Spencer just looked up at the ceiling, trying to hold in the tears that were streaming down his face. 

You grabbed the last box on the counter and your keys, and walked out, for the last time. 

You awoke in your bed, eyes adjusting to the complete darkness the blackout curtains provided you. 

Another fucking night thinking about your decision those four years ago, and how your life may have gotten better because of it. 

Moving to get up from the bed, you decided to leave the curtains closed for now, feeling as if you could melt from the sun touching you. 

You turned on the bathroom light and started your morning routine. Wash face. Take meds. Brush teeth. Fix hair—

Somewhere in that process, you got lost, and just stared at yourself in the mirror. You weren’t sure for how long. All you could do was replay the last four years. 

Did you make the right choice? You were happy, you had your dream job. 

Maybe it was true what they say, you can only have a career or love, but not both—

The only thing taking you out of this spiral was the ringer on your phone going off. 

This caused some hesitation because your phone’s ringer was always off––the loud noise startling you. There were only a few people who had that emergency bypass, and none of them had called you in four years. 

You peaked out of the bathroom and saw the name light up on your phone. 

Emily Prentiss

______________________________________________________________

The door to the round room opened up and in walked Spencer Reid. “Catch me up.” 

Prentiss clicked the remote, and the TV lit up with a picture of a woman smirking facing the camera while holding a gun up to another one next to her. “Early this morning, Garcia got an email from an anonymous server.”

The second woman was tied up, mouth slightly open, and eyes filled with tears, while a man on the other side just had his eyes closed, tired. . 

Spencer just stared at the photo. 

Rossi nodded at the picture. “She's not obscuring her face, telling us she's got nothing to hide.”

He never pulled focus away from the screen, mouth dry at the thought of what today was going to be. “Any ideas on the unsub?”

“No.” Prentiss sighed. “Only the unsub's demand. That we release Catherine Adams in 24 hours.  I'm having her transferred here for questioning, but we have no illusions. This is just a game to her. We know that. The question is, do we want to play it or not?”

______________________________________________________________

Receiving a call from the FBI was not entirely new to you, since you had been engaged to one of their agents, but receiving one now? Weird. Off brand. Something was deeply wrong from them to have to give you a call. 

You hesitantly pick up the phone. “Hello?”

“Hey Y/n, it’s Emily Prentiss—“

“I know who you are, Emily. It’s been a couple years, not millions.” 

Emily hummed a brief laugh, and you could hear other voices behind her, unable to make out anything. 

“I know this is hard to ask of you, but would you stay on the phone with me and come in?” 

“What?” 

“I need you to stay very calm Y/n, but I need you to stay on the line with me, leave your apartment as soon as you can, and get to the BAU.” 

“Oh my god I totally forgot. It might take me an hour to get there with all this bullshit traffic, could we push the reservation an hour? Would they be willing to do that?” 

Your entire tone changed, having remembered what Spencer had told you all those years ago about if people were listening into your apartment, if they bugged your car—all paranoia that didn’t pay off then, might be paying off now. 

You were sure you could hear Emily sigh, and it sounded a little upset at the fact that you knew what to do–you knew how to handle a dangerous situation, which made her question everything in her life. 

Quickly you pulled on a pair of jeans and threw a sweatshirt over your pajama top and grabbed your keys off of the counter. 

You left your apartment, waved to one of your neighbors, and hopped into your car, still on the line, just trying not to panic. Maybe something went wrong, maybe Spencer wasn’t okay, maybe he had died—you refused to even acknowledge that thought and decided it was something else entirely. 

It was a very tense hour of driving, that was only about forty minutes since you knew how to drive above the speed limit. 

You realized that it was past midday, and you had taken full advantage of the weekend. So at least you had a decent amount of sleep under your belt for what felt like the beginning of an extraneous night. 

As you pulled into the parking garage, Emily Prentiss and someone you had never met before were standing there waiting for you. You placed your car in park, hopped out and walked up to them–only hanging up as soon as you were out of the car. 

Both of them had such grim looks on their faces, but at least they were trying to pretend like the situation wasn’t as bad as it appeared to your face. 

Emily engulfed you in a hug. “Missed you Y/n. It’s been too long.” 

“Well Em, next time I end an engagement with someone I’ll consider your feelings first.” You squeezed him back, dryly laughing at your own joke. At least it caused Emily to snort. 

“Y/n this is SSA Luke Alvez. Luke, this is Y/n Y/l/n.”

“It’s nice to meet you.” He gave a small smile and nodded at you.

“I wish it were under different circumstances.” You nodded back and looked over at Emily.

“Let’s head inside?” 

The three of you moved inside. 

Sure, you hadn’t been here in a while, but you knew your way around the BAU Bullpen if your life depended on it, which was ironic since that was what this feels like. 

As soon as you were safely in their round table room, Luke shut the door, and stood by it, Emily coming and sitting down next to you. 

“What do you know about Cat Adams?” 

That bitch. 

______________________________________________________________

“I would like to go on a date. With you.” 

Spencer stared at her, face stoic as ever. “A date?”

“Yes. I want to look pretty. And I want to have fun.” She looked him up and down. “And I won't even get physical, ok? Unless you want me to.”

Spencer sat down across from her. “Come here. Closer.”

Cat leaned in, a small smile on her face, absolutely intoxicated by being so close to him.

“The only date that I'll be there for is the one where they stick a needle in your vein.”

Cat scoffed. “You're just going to let her father and sister die? I don't think so.”

“I never said it was a father and daughter. You're already slipping.” He stood up from the table. “We'll find them. We always do.”

Cat leaned back and crossed her arms. “Not tonight. Tonight I win.”

His resolution had yet to change, “The score between me and you is two to zero. By tomorrow morning, it'll be a clean sweep. Enjoy eternal nothingness. It's a metaphor for your life.” 

And with that, the door slammed shut behind him.

______________________________________________________________

Both the profilers watched a series of emotions run rampant across your face, before you settled on a somewhat displeased smile. “A lot.” 

They exchanged a look, and you didn’t have the energy to pretend like you didn’t know what it was. 

“Don’t start with me you two. I know profiling. I know what you’re doing. Ask me the questions you want to ask. Don’t try and trick me into giving the answers you want.” 

Alvez bit his tongue and looked away, trying to hide a small smile that appeared on his lips. 

Emily, on the other hand, hid her smile a bit better than him, but part of being previously engaged to a profiler meant you picked up on some of their tricks too. 

She nodded and pulled a file from across the table. “I’m assuming you know the basics since she, uh, is obsessed with Spencer.”

“Glad to see he still has that going for him.” You muttered and looked into the file. 

Emily shot Luke a look when he let out a huff or air, trying his damndest not to laugh. 

“What is the last thing you know about her?” 

You recounted the days leading up to the restaurant, and then the few days after, decidedly stopping short of the engagement breaking off a week later. 

They shared another look, and you didn’t enjoy whatever it was that had moved across their faces. 

“What? What happened?” 

“Y/n..”

“No Emily, I drove from DC to here, I deserve to know what happened. without some weird sugarcoating, alright?” 

Emily then begins to explain to you the past four years of Reid’s life. Cat pretending she was pregnant with his kid in prison, kidnapping his mother, framing him for murder in Mexico, going to prison—

“Spencer went to prison and none of you thought to call me….”

“We didn’t think you’d–” 

“I’m a fucking criminal defense attorney in DC Emily. Of course I’d want to know if he was arrested, especially internationally. I know that law better than all of you. If someone I knew was kidnapped, I’d call you immediately. Faster than the cops.” 

Both of them went silent. 

“So is he out?” 

They nodded slowly, silently. 

“How long was he in there.”

Nothing. 

“I asked. How. Long.”

Luke spoke up. “Three months.” 

“Jesus christ.” You stood up and started to pace around the room, taking the time you needed to calm down. 

Why didn’t Spencer call you—well you knew why Spencer wouldn’t call you. 

“Okay so he’s out.” You said finally. “Why am I here?” 

“Cat’s execution is coming up, and we….we found out that she’s convinced someone to kidnap some….people…close to Reid, and we knew you’d be on that list for him.” 

Your eyebrows went up at people but said nothing of it. Just as you went to say something else, JJ knocked on the door, another blonde woman behind her. 

They entered and JJ gave you a small, yet genuine smile. 

You returned it, but quickly shifted your gaze onto the woman behind. 

Your whole body shifted slightly, into a place of defense, locking your emotions down. You knew all the profilers were watching it happen in real time, which is why Emily walked over and stood next to you, a hand appearing on the small of your back as a comfort.

“Would someone like to tell me what is going on here?” The blonde woman spoke up, arms crossed.

At least Spencer’s taste in partners with attitude hadn’t changed. 

______________________________________________________________

“Victimology is off.”

“How so?” Prentiss looked up at him as he walked into the room. 

“Father and daughter. She’s never done that before.” 

Lewis spoke up. “She usually kills men that remind her of her father. Children–even adult children, are off limits. Do we have an ID yet.” 

Prentiss, Rossi, Garcia, and JJ all looked over at Reid, and he just pulled a hand down his face. “It’s. It’s Issac and Noelle Y/l/n.” 

“Y/l/n…as is Y/n Y/l/n.” Tara looked up surprised at Spencer. 

Reid nodded slowly, just staring at the picture on the projector.

While Luke spoke up. “Who is Y/n Y/l/n.” 

“An old friend.” Rossi quickly interjected, before any more explanation had to be said. It was clear both Alvez and Simmons, that whoever this was, was an extremely touchy subject for Reid. 

Tara, who had only known you for a little while, looked back at the picture. 

Rossie spoke up. “What do we know about the partner who’s helping her?” 

“It’s got to be someone from her prison.” Simmons spoke up. “She hasn’t had contact with anyone else.” 

______________________________________________________________

After all of that, you found yourself back in a place you left four years ago. It looked almost the same as when you had first moved in, but there was less of it. 

Almost as if he was having trouble covering places where things used to be.

There were almost no photos on the walls, since you had taken half of them, and were in the rest. 

Calling someone you once loved a stranger feels wrong. 

Max, as you had learned her name, was just sitting on the couch in your spot . She was looking around as you and Rossi stood by the kitchen counter. 

“Cat had a cellmate named Juliette Weaver. We believe the two were working together, as a way for Cat to get something against Spencer, and as payment, Cat would get Juliette’s ex.”

You nodded. “How does this affect me?” 

“She took your father and sister.” 

Your back straightened and immediately brought out your phone, to call your sister, but Rossi just grabbed your wrist (gently) and shook his head. “If she finds out you know, then it’s all over. She’s doing this on purpose. She knows about you and Reid, but she knows that dragging you into all of this will hurt him more than anything else.” 

His voice had gone low and quiet, so that the girl on the couch couldn’t hear. 

“So why is she here?” You whispered back. 

“Because we don’t want anyone in danger.” 

You closed your eyes and nodded. “I need a cup of tea.” 

Rossi let go of your wrist, and you walked into the kitchen, mostly eyes closed from the stress of the situation. 

The apartment was silent, the others watching as you grabbed a kettle, and started to make tea. It was like second nature to you as you turned the stovetop on, grabbed a mug from the cabinet (careful to not grab one of his favorites), and grabbed some tea from the cabinet. 

It didn’t dawn on you that you were drinking your favorite type of tea until the second sip, while the entire apartment was still silent. 

The pity from Rossi's look was palpable. 

“Don’t even start.” 

He shrugged and stayed silent. 

Until his walkie went off and he looked at Max. “It’s time. Let’s go.” 

Rossi looked back at you and gave you a quick hug, squeezing you tightly. “You’ve got this kid. Remember everything we talked about.” 

You nodded and gave them both a strained smile as they left the apartment, leaving you all alone in this place you once called home, alone. 

Never once, since you left, did you think you would ever be back here. You didn’t even realize you were drinking from one of your own mugs until it was just you. The irony of it was not lost on you, and you sat down in your spot on the couch. 

Well first you sat in Spencer’s seat but it felt too weird, so you shifted back into your spot on the couch. 

______________________________________________________________

“Juliette staked out in Reid’s life. Found out he was dating someone, but then must have discovered his ex-fiancée.” Simmons sighed. “He was probably so focused on Max, he didn’t even realize that someone was digging into his history, following them around.”

Prentiss nodded as they walked and talked. “But if Juliette was able to find Max, that meant she was easily able to find Y/n and her family. It means she must have access to all of her publicly available information. “

“Well at least we found their hidden agenda.” 

“No. We found Cat’s hidden agenda. Juliette doesn’t care about Reid. There’s something we’re missing here. Do a deep dive with Garcia.” 

Simmons nodded at Prentis. “On it.” 

“I’ll go to Reid's apartment and monitor onsite. Is there a trap and trace on his landline?” 

“Garcia’s almost set up.” Simmons walked away from Prentiss, and down towards Penelope’s office. 

“Well this went from bad to worse.” Tara walked up to Emily. 

Emily sighed in agreement. 

Lewis spoke up. “Female narcissists destroy their competition.Y/n  really shouldn’t be in there.” 

Emily just nodded and the two of them headed out of the bullpen. “Walk with me.” 

Tara kept stride with her as they pushed through the doors. Rossi was just getting off the phone with someone and turned to look at the two women approaching him and JJ. 

JJ spoke up when Rossi was finished. “So, the hospital just released the dad– Issac Y/l/n. He's on his way here now.

Rossi scoffed. “Question is, why let him go at all?”

“Matt's on that.” Emily gestures in the direction of Garcia’s office. “Juliette Weaver's real agenda should tell us where she's taking Y/n’s younger sister.”

Lewis spoke next. “I still think the play here is to get Cat and Juliette to contact each other, but I have no idea how.”

Prentiss crossed her arms. “I have a plan, but first we have to talk about Y/n.” 

______________________________________________________________

Just then, you heard the click of the door, and stood up, watching as the door swung open. 

And there he was. 

This was the first time you had seen Spencer in four years. 

And here he was, kissing Catherine Adams. 

The woman you could give partial credit to for ending your relationship. 

After a moment Spencer looked up, and took several steps away from Cat. His eyes were wide and locked on yours. 

It took a lot of self-restraint to not punch the lights out of Cat, and to stand still arms crossed. 

“Y/n?” Spencer’s voice broke a little bit. 

You never would say that Spencer was unattractive. In fact, it would be a lie if you ever said it. But something about the past four years aged him like a fine wine. 

His hair was a bit longer, he had some scruff—his baby face had melted away and standing in front of you was a man who thought you knew everything about, but was now a stranger. 

You didn’t answer him, watching as he took you in, standing in his apartment, for the first time since…

“What are you doing here?” 

You looked over at Cat, who had the most devious smirk on her face. 

Remember what Prentiss had said to you. 

“You know why I’m here.” 

Cat nodded and the two of them moved into the apartment, the door closing behind them. 

Spencer just stood ten feet away from you, eyes never leaving you, and you watched him right back. 

Cat, on the other hand, was walking around, examining the apartment. You could see her take notice of the tea you had made yourself on the counter. You could see the hatred from the corner of your eyes. The two of you were starting to piss her off. 

She spoke up, after a few moments of silence. “Did it make you mad that I was kissing your Fiancé?” 

You shook your head. “No.”

Your focus had fully turned to Cat, but you swore you swore you could hear Spencer take a sharp inhale as you spoke your next words.

“Well, he's not my fiancé and I kind of have some other things on my mind.”

Cat didn’t scare you, but there was just something so off-putting about her. “Like what?” 

“Are you gonna hurt Noelle?”

Cat shrugged. “Not if I don't have to, no. Honestly, if she follows instructions, she might even learn from this whole experience.”

You scoffed. “What does that mean?”

Cat just started fiddling with the chess set on the dresser. 

“Spencer, what does she mean?” You turned to look back at him, his name feeling so good on your tongue. 

Spencer, who really hadn’t stopped looking at you and sighed. “I think…She means that Noelle isn’t learning from her, but from Juliette.” 

You sat down in your spot on the couch, arms crossed. You were on the full defense. 

Spencer noticed where you sat and had to look down to conceal any notions of a smile on his face. 

Cat watched him before turning and looking at you, some more disdain on her face than before. 

“Normally, Spencie and I, we spend our time together playing games, but tonight, I've brought you all here to make a point. You are doing so much better.” 

Spencer spoke up. “With you?”

“I'm not talking to you.” Cat snapped at him before she turned to you. “I'm talking to you. Because, girlfriend, you need to know the truth about your fiancé.” 

“He's not my finacé.” You were unsure about how many more times you could say that outloud. 

“No kidding. When’s the last time you spoke? Right…” Cat walked over to the center of the room, right in front of the couch. “Here?” 

Your head whipped around to Spencer. “You told her about that?”

Spencer was pleading with his eyes. “I had to say a lot of things tonight.”

Cat’s voice caused your head to snap back to her. “Yes, he has. He said that you never compared to me, that, um... That no matter what, he will never get me out of his mind, unlike you. Unlike that girlfriend.” 

You tried not to wince at the mention of that girl Maxine out in one of the trucks.

Spencer sat down next to you. “Everything I said—I was lying to save your family.”

Cat scoffed. “Did our kiss look like a lie?” 

“No.” you just looked down at your hands. 

“Thank you. See, now we're getting to the heart of the matter.” Cat started mocking Spencer. “You see, everyone thinks that Dr. Spencer Reid is... Is just this nice, bookish, uh, genius who, uh, always saves the day and has all the answers. And has zero mommy issues, right? But, um... I know the real him.” 

“Oh, yeah? Who's the real me, Cat?” 

“The real Spencer Reid throws women against walls. And hisses that he's going to kill them.” 

Spencer stood up, squaring off against her.  “That was a very different situation.”

“No, it wasn't.” Cat was holding the smirk back this time, making your gut wretch. 

“Spencer…What is she talking about?” You looked from the psychopath in front of you, to the man you realized you might have never really known beside you.

“You tell her. She's not gonna believe it coming from me.” She huffed. 

Reid turned and looked at you. “Two years ago, Cat had her partner kidnap my mother. Just like tonight. She got under my skin and…”

Your chest hurts. “And you threw her against a wall?” 

Cat’s smirk was breaking through whatever resolve she had. “Don't skimp on the details, Spencie. She deserves to know everything.”

Every single time she said Spencie you swore a shock went up your spine. 

Spencer looked down at his hands, and then over at you. His voice had gotten quieter. “She was pregnant at the time and I knew that when I hurt her.” 

“And?” She stood there expectantly, waiting for Spencer to finish. When he didn’t, her face suddenly became solemn. “The next day... I miscarried. The end.”

Spencer looked at her. “That's not true.” 

“It is most certainly true. Check my medical records.” 

“That doesn't mean I-I would…”

Cat held up her hand to him. “Stop. Look.”

Spencer looked over at you, just sitting on the couch, trying to process everything that was going through your head. 

After thinking about everything you had gone through, especially with Spencer. “I thought you were better than that Spence.” 

It was the first time you had used a nickname for him in years. And he was hearing it for the first time while you were stuck in a standoff between himself and Cat Adams, your sister being god knows where. 

Spencer’s voice cracked. “I'm sorry.” 

Cat squatted down in front of you, a sick smile on her lips. She was enjoying this. She truly enjoyed watching his life crumble to bits. “Notice how your Spencie is apologizing to you and not me.”

You clenched your hands. “He’s not mine…”

Spencer just looked over at you. 

Cat nodded. “That's good. Because men are all the same. Aren't they, Jolie?” 

Spencer’s eyes lit up with an emotion you rarely saw from him when you were together. “Don't call her that.”

And you couldn’t blame him. The word ran you through like a spear and you were sure if you looked behind you, the blade would be through the couch. You tried so hard to not let either of the two people near you see how much it messed with you. Luckily for you, Cat was too busy pushing Spencer’s buttons to see the way her words won against you. 

Cat hissed at him. “What, are you gonna throw me against a wall and choke me, or do you only do that to pregnant women?” 

You finally spoke up. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I want you to see it.” She gestured to Spencer. “I want you to see that he is...no better than he was before, or any man after. They’re all the same.” 

“Stop.”

Cat squatted down in front of you. “I can see it on your face. What's his name?” 

You stared back at her. “It's none of your business.”

That damned smirk of hers returned. “It is exactly my business. In fact, it's my specialty. I mean, I could have Juliette and baby sister go over there if you want. They could take care of him.” 

Reid looked over at you. “Say yes. Give her what she wants.” 

“Hmm. See, he wants you to get me to make a little phone call so they can trace it.” She moved away from you both and sat down in the lounging chair across from you. “They're so good, the FBI.”

You jumped up and started pacing, a spitting image of four years ago. “What is wrong with the two of you? What is this sick, twisted thing that you have? Listen, I just want to save my sister. Will you please just tell me what I have to do to do that?” 

“Tell me his name. Tell me the story. That's it. And then if they can let Juliette exit stage right, then I promise you I will let her go.”

You looked between Cat and Spencer before walking over to the kitchen, and hanging up the phone. After staring down at the decision you had just made, you walked back over and took your phone out. “Here.  Use this. Use my phone. They can't trace it.”

She just watched you. “You'd be surprised.”

“I don't even need a call. Just... just a photo.” You held the phone out to her. “Something to prove to me that she's still alive. Please”. 

Cat just looked up at your face. “Story first.”

“Y/n. Please.” Spencer turned to you, hoping you’d look back at him. “I have been here with her before. She called the number and told the partner to kill my mom.”

“It is so tricky, isn't it? I mean, who are you gonna trust? The lying, cheating, violent psychopath... Or me?”

You looked down at the ground, refusing to look over at Spencer. “His…His name was Mike Davis. We dated for two years. I met him a month after we…we split.”

Cat’s attention on you felt as if there were a million bees stinging your body all at different intervals, pain coursing through your body. “Good. When did it end?” 

“Last year.” 

“Was he good in bed?” 

Spencer stood up. “Shut up.” 

Cat was enjoying this. She was enjoying watching you make Spencer uncomfortable. She was enjoying hurting him in every masochistic way she could. “What? You have to know where you stand.”

“He was good…” You looked back at Cat. “Good at, um, separating me from my friends and my family. Enough that the first time he punched me in the face, I didn't have anywhere to go. And my first response wasn't "get out." It wasn't "go to hell." It was "I'm sorry, Mike." That's when he knew he had me.”

There was a glint in Spencer’s eyes, and you could swear they were tears, but you couldn’t tell from rage or sorrow. 

Cat continued to probe. “How many hospital visits were there?” 

You showed her a small scar on the inside of your elbow. “None. No, he... He knew how to hurt me just enough to hide it all, I guess.”  

“But you found the strength to leave. What did you do?” 

“ I planned and I... I waited.”

Cat’s eyes lit up. “Waited for what? “

“I live here in D.C.” You looked between Spencer and Cat. “but I'm also a resident in Virginia. It takes 60 days for the permit to clear.”

Spencer’s eyes widened. “Y/n, stop talking. Stop talking right now.”

Cat shushed him. “No, don't stop. Here. Give me the phone. Look, I'm gonna enter the text. Stick the landing and I'll hit "send."

You handed her the phone and she quickly typed out a message, her thumb hovering over send. 

Fiddling with your ring finger, you started to speak again. Slowly. Concisely. “When I was ready, I picked a fight. Loud enough for the neighbors to hear. And he came at me with his fist just cocked back, so I pulled my Glock 19 out of my purse. I shot him.”

Spencer tried to interject. “It was self-defense. He was attacking you—”

“That's what I told 911 as he was struggling to breathe on his kitchen floor. That's why the police never charged me. I’m a lawyer, I know how to plead.” You closed your eyes. “But I... after I hung up, I... I shot him two more times.” 

Cat was glowing, spinning around to face Spencer. “Wow, you really have a type, don't you? Quite a dilemma, too. She just admitted to murder.” 

Spencer was in disbelief. “She'll beat it.” . 

“Probably. But whatever feelings she might have still had for you, and whatever Maxine might have seen in you—-it’s all gone.” 

The phone in your hand buzzed.

“Oh, wow. Look at that. Your sister. Alive and well. You're welcome.” 

Your face hardened up, and you stood up straighter. Walking away from the two of them, you opened the door. “I got it.” 

She took the phone from your hand and you turned back to the two of them. There was no emotion behind your eyes as you looked back at Spencer. 

Cat smirked and looked up at Spencer. “I win.” 

______________________________________________________________

The prison transport was quiet, with the two guards sitting across from Spencer and Cat. It had been silent for about twenty minutes, but then, Cat spoke up. 

“Do you know why I did this? Why I really did this?” 

Spencer looked down at his hands. “You wanted to prove I'm a monster just like you.”

“No... Silly. I just wanted to see you again. I just wanted to make sure that you would never forget about me.” She sighed. “'Cause when they do put that needle in my arm, I just want there to be even the slightest chance that... Maybe you're still thinking about me…”

Spencer stiffened as she placed her head on his shoulder. “You didn't have to terrorize 3 innocent people. You could've just written a letter.” 

“Would you have written me back?” 

When Spencer didn’t respond, Cat knew her answer. 

“Bye, Spencie. I really enjoyed our date.” She smiled at him desperately, getting dragged out of the vehicle by the guards to the prison. 

______________________________________________________________

The elevator door opened and Spencer walked out of it, his whole body reeked of defeat, and he barely looked at Emily as she spoke.  “We need to debrief.” 

Spencer just walked right past her, and into the bullpen. His expression changed when he saw you on one side talking to Tara, and Max on the other, looking up at him right as he walked in. 

“Spencer, are you okay?” 

Her voice caught your ear, and immediately you looked up to see her walk over and embrace him in a hug. 

He smiled at her, and grateful returned the hug before muttering that he would be back, and explain everything.

You were never going to get back together with Spencer, but watching it in real time was like unlacing an old wound. 

Spencer walked over to you, and you stood up as he approached. 

“Uh, Tara, would you mind giving us…”

She nodded at him and walked away. 

Both of you went to speak, trying to say something to the other. 

“I should explain all of this.” 

Spencer shook his head. “You don’t have to explain any of that Y/n—it doesn’t.” 

You cut him off. “It was fake—most of it. I didn’t kill anyone, Spence. I was just lying to her to get her to send the text from my phone. It was all…It was made up.” 

He just nodded, staring at you really. 

You gave him a soft smile, and gently placed a hand on his shoulder. Both of you could feel the pulse between it, making you remove your hand and take a small step back. 

“Thank you for saving my sister and father.” 

Spencer watched your resolve fully formed, masking whatever you were feeling. He hated watching it happen to him, watching as you placed whatever feelings you had back into somewhere he couldn’t find. 

Garcia walked over and placed a hand on Spencer’s shoulder. “I just need you both to know, Cat Adams had a miscarriage, but it was months after whatever encounter you had. It’s not your fault. We looked at her records.” She was speaking low for you both, yet both of you let out a quiet sigh of relief. 

“They filled me in on everything that happened between both of you in the past couple years, and they asked me if I would be willing to…help them beat her.” 

Spencer looked up at you, and unlike yourself, every single emotion Spencer was feeling was racing across his face. 

He didn’t like that you knew about everything that had gone down. He was so happy you were okay. He was a little impressed by the way you beat Cat at her own game. He was upset that you put yourself in danger. 

“They gave me an ear piece and everything.” 

Spencer shook his head. “You’re not trained—that’s extremely dangerous of you.” 

You sighed and nodded. “Unfortunately Spencer, this is…this was the life I was used to when we were together. I knew the stakes. I mean the briefings I had with Hotch after you relapsed…” 

Spencer just clammed up and stood a bit straighter. “ I never knew..”

“It was like that on purpose. I didn’t want you to think that you were a burden or too much or—I was doing it for the potential of…” You cut yourself of, flinching at the parallels between this and your previous final conversation. 

You looked over at Garcia. “I need my bag Pen.” You whispered, taking a step away from Spencer. “I shouldn’t…I finished my job. My family is safe…” 

She had a rueful look on her face, but she nodded and took your arm, walking you back over to the desk where your stuff was. 

He looked up at Emily and walked over to her. “I’m…uh. I’m gonna go walk her out and then I’ll be right back.” 

Emily gave him the saddest smile, and just nodded. She knew that nothing she could say could make it any better. 

You grabbed your coat, and your bag, and the two of you walked to the elevator in silence, riding it all the way down to the parking garage, where your car was still there from this afternoon, all of those hours ago. 

You looked over at Spencer, tears in your eyes, having not said anything to him. 

As soon as he met your eyes, you dropped your bag, and Spencer wrapped his arms around you tightly, just holding you and resting his head on yours; trying to give you the comfort that he was rarely able to give you. 

Sobbing into his arms, you just tightly wrapped your arms around his torso and just held onto him tightly. Trying to decompress, trying to truly understand everything that had happened in the past twelve hours. 

It was Spencer who spoke first. 

“I’m so so sorry Y/n.” He whispered. “I never meant any of this to happen to you, and for you to get dragged back here and—” 

You shook your head slightly, but didn’t move from where you were. Neither of you did. 

“It’s what she wanted, Spence, and unfortunately for us, this was always bound to happen.” You whispered. 

The hug felt so good, but something about it was just so different. 

It’s not the way it used to be. 

“I need to go Spencer.” 

He nodded, and this time you moved away from him. His hand came up and wiped away one of the remaining tears on your cheek. 

You closed your eyes, and took a deep breath. 

“Oh fuck, why is this so fucking hard four years later.” You laughed, trying to regain any sort of composure. 

“Y/n…”

You took another step away from him and shook your head. 

“We can’t—I’m not.” You tried so hard to find the right words without bursting into tears again. “Spencer. I cannot put myself back to where I was four years ago. I can’t do it. And yes things have changed, but maybe that is for the better. Maybe you were always meant to be my maybe, and not my always.” 

You took another breath, but kept going. “You are amazing, and funny, and so smart Spence. But this…we ran our course. It didn’t work then, and I don’t know if I have it in me to try again just for it to fail.” 

“Y/n please.” 

“I will always love you but this…It’s time to…It’s time to stop. I have to go back to my life, and you go back upstairs to yours, with Prentiss and Rossi and Penelope and…Max.” 

Both of you winced as you said her name, but you took a step forward, moving to kiss him on the cheek. 

Spencer gently grabbed you face, giving you enough time to back out. 

You didn’t. 

His lips locked with yours, his thumb rubbing against your cheek as the two of you shared one more moment, just for the two of you. 

But it had to end. 

You couldn’t go back to the anxiety, the arguing, the petty disagreements. It wasn’t good for you. It was good for either of you. 

Stepping away again, you gently kissed his cheek, and started to slowly walk to your car. 

Right as you got to your car, you turned around and made eye contact with him one last time before the elevator doors closed, both of you with the most gut wrenching smile slightly plastered across your faces. 

You mouthed goodbye, unable to speak it out loud, and he nodded, tears filling his eyes as he whispered it back to you. 

The doors shut. 

You were all alone in this hollow parking garage. 

Your heart was aching, burning. 

But there was a sigh of relief, that came with the doors closing, and saying goodbye for the last, last time. 

[loganlermanstanaccount]

PLEASE! I BEG THAT YOU WRITE AN MIGUEL O’HARA FICTION! IM BEGGING!! PLEASEE!!!! (Sorry if I come off harsh)

Ask and you shall receive!! A quick thing I wrote (not proofread), thanks for the ask <3

Touch

Miguel O'Hara x reader

(AO3 Mirror), Part 2, Main Masterlist

summary: Miguel misbehaves. You teach him a lesson. part one maybe?? idk y'all let me know if u want a pt 2. (Part 2 is out!)

warnings: pwp!! light f-dom, angry (ish??) sex, grinding, slight m-sub, (m) begging. mostly just filth. I am soooo desperate for any character played by Oscar Isaac. 18+ Minors DNI

a/n: I apologise in advance, native Spanish speakers. Me and reverso tried our best. 

wc: 1.4k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A great crash from the workshop has you running from all the way in the kitchen, apron still on. 

He looks tired, hunched over his desk. Great hulking shoulders hang, tense in the dim light of a single lamp.

"Miguel?" It's soft, in the metallic hum of lights. "Everything okay?" 

He shifts, looking over his shoulder at you. "M'sorry for the noise mi sol, just tired." 

"...maybe it's time to call it a night, baby."

He waves you off with a flick of the wrist.   "Give me ten minutes, I'll come to bed."

"That's what you said half an hour ago, Miggy." It's under your breath but loud enough that his super senses pick it up.Your voice is fraught, frustrated - no doubt at the nights he'd spent away from you. Whether coming back late from tinkering in his workshop, or on the streets; he'd meet you fast asleep in bed, and wake up to an early morning rush. Either way, he seemed like a stranger in your own home; consumed with his work. It was taking its toll. 

You pad back, returning to the kitchen in silence. You clean up the remnants of a dinner Miguel had picked at, sighing. You loved him, and you knew he loved you; but he lived in his own world sometimes. Sure, the world needed him; but what about you? After everything you had given each other, how could he discard you so easily? 

It's only after a while Miguel realises the noises of you clearing up have long subsided, that he heads into the kitchen to investigate. It's meticulously clean, your apron hanging up on its peg by the door. On the counter, the remainder of his dinner boxed up in tupperware, with a post-it-note on the lid. 'For Miggy <;3' , it reads. 

His heart aches as he walks towards your room. You're dressed in nothing but his t-shirt, knees drawn and curled up into yourself. He slides into bed, staring up at the ceiling. 

"Mi vida?" He mumbles. "Mi vida, I know you're awake." 

You respond with an unceremonious grunt, back still turned. You're mad at him, and he deserves it. 

"I'm sorry." He says, listening to the rise and fall of your chest in the dark. He sits up. Sighing, he cradles your arm, tracing circles into the flesh. Gentle, and oh so soft. "I'm an idiot, you know that. I fucked up. Couldn't see how much you were hurting."

You stir, turning to face him. In the neon lights that stream into your room, his face falls. He brings a hesitant hand to cup at your cheek. 

"Say something. Please." Imperciptably, he watches your eyes fall to his lips. 

You kiss him, passionate and hot and angry. He can barely breathe when you envelope your plush lips around his, snaking your hand towards his back. You claw at his shirt, raking a hand into his hair. When you separate, it's obscene; a sliver of saliva still connecting his lips to yours. His scarlet eyes are low as he licks his lips; chasing your taste. You both sit up. 

"You haven't touched me in weeks, Miguel." Your voice is dangerously low, hand wrapped around his neck.

He wraps strong hands around your waist, guiding you to straddle him. For once, he's grateful for the flimsy fabric of his t-shirt - thin around the apex of your pebbled nipples. He paws at your hips, hands trailing towards your bare thighs. Just as they come to rest towards their crook, you snatch his hands away. 

"Let me make it up to you," He hisses at the contact, leaning into your touch. "Por favor, sólo una probadita, just a taste, my love."

"No touching." Dramatic, he protests, cursing in Spanish before you bring a thumb to his mouth to silence him. 

"No. Touching."

Eyes lidded, looking up at you, it takes everything not to break; you fight the urge to kiss the tip of his nose and whisper praise into the crook of his neck. Instead, you coax your thumb into his mouth; as he swirls his tongue around it, like he would on your clit. Miguel savors it like the sweetest honey, grateful you'll even touch him considering how he's been acting. 

He swells in his pants, hard as the crotch of his sweats graze your bare pussy. Beautiful tits pressed against his chest,  you draw small circles with your waist against the seat of his crotch. Precum spills as his hips jump up to meet you, desperate for contact. 

Immediately, you stop. With a pop, you pull your thumb from his mouth and Miguel moans at the loss. 

"Mierda. Baby, please-"

"No. Here's what's going to happen. I'm going to use you to get off. You're gonna watch, if you're lucky. And then I'm…" You swirl your hips, causing him to groan. "... going to bed." 

"¿Entiendes?" You croon, spiteful in the slow sway of your hips. "Do you understand, Miguel?" 

"-f-fuck, ok, ok-" Desperately nodding, he grips the sheets by his side. Closing his eyes to steady himself, he slumps his head on your shoulder. God, he's trying so, so hard not to cum right there; turned on by the lull of your sweet voice. He likes it when you get angry and treat him like a toy - painfully hard at the way you light him on fire. Everything about you; your scent, the way you taste, the grip you have in his hair; turns his senses up to eleven. 

You grind on his crotch, steadying yourself with your other hand on his shoulder. Plush lip tucked under your teeth, it takes all his willpower not to capture you in another kiss: hungry and consuming and overpowering. He can tell you're serious; everytime he grinds his crotch into yours, you will yourself to stop and tighten your grip. 

"Miguel…" You warn, moaning softly into his ear. "I m-meant what I said…"

When his hips snap up the third time; you growl, frustrated. Both your hands move to his chest, pushing him down onto the mattress so he's on his back. He looks good like this; at your mercy and putty under your hands. You push up the lip of his shirt to expose his midsection and pull down his sweats. A happy trail snakes down to his neatly trimmed cock; its deliciously curved tip springing free. Precum covers his cock, so when you slide him between the lips of your pussy it glides like he was made for you. You bite down on your lip so hard, it almost bleeds. 

With this new angle, you plant your hands by his head; grinding your clit onto his dick desperately. The slick sounds drive Miguel crazy, and when his hands fly to your waist to help you along, you don't move them. 

"You're s-so pretty, mi vida… prettiest thing I've ever seen. Need it. Need you. Use me, please, hump my cock like I'm your toy, p-please, please…"

He knows your body better than you do. You're close, dangerously near the edge. With the way your thigh shakes and the spasms that slow your rhythm, he knows. You don't break eye contact with him under you, moaning as you slide on his cock. Desperate, you chase that sweet spot, electric when he angles your hips just so… 

"M'gonna cum, fuck, Miggy-" You writhe desperately. He's close, too, shamelessly humping your pussy like a feral animal. He can taste it; white hot at the tip of his tongue. Finally, you cum: a leg shaking, biting orgasm that rips through you. You clench around nothing, but it's not enough for him. So, so close; and it's ripped away from him when you come down, in the aftermath. 

Unceremoniously, you pant and roll off of him; spread-eagle atop the sheets. Miggy curses softly at his ruined orgasm - still rock hard. He's glad you feel good, but he knows he can make you feel better, broad hands pawing at your hips. You slap them off, and turn your back pointedly. The slope and curve of your ass taunts him. 

"Fuck off, Miguel."

"Baby, I'm sor-" 

"Fuck. Off."

Sighing, he takes the hint. Grabbing the pillow, he pads off to the sofa in your living room, adjusting his hard on. He'd give you your space, tonight, and begin to win you back tomorrow morning. He needs you, more than you'd ever know. 

_

_

_

[russellsppttemplates]

Could you do a Lando blurb Where he takes Tilly and Fraser for the first time to McLaren HQ after the Chinese GP for the debrief and to give reader a break due to her pregnancy, and they are enchanted by the old models of McLaren's F1 cars

"Why did mummy stay at home? Didn't she want to tag along with us?", Matilda mused as Lando looked for a parking spot outside the Center.

"She would've liked to come, I'm sure, but mummy needs to rest as much as she can now that Charlotte is getting bigger", Lando smiled at the thought.

"It's true - did you see that she fell asleep yesterday when we were colouring in? And then sometimes she says that Lottie kicks her tummy a lot - it tickles my hands when I touch it", Fraser beamed.

"That's why we have to be gentle with mummy - we always need to be gentle and kind with her, but now, we need to be extra gentle and kind, okay?", Lando offered.

Getting out of the car, the kids held Lando's hands and walked into the building, waving at anyone who greeted them.

"Is it bring your kids to workd day?", Sophie asked as she watched them walk on the corridor.

"It's we are letting mummy rest day!", Fraser beamed, "she's getting tired now that she's growing our sister in her tummy", he explained.

"This is very nice of you then - are you going to see the cars? The team brought them back out yesterday from the workshop", she suggested.

Lando nodded and thanked her, heading with your children to the exhibition room.

"Can we touch them, daddy?", Matilda asked.

"You can, but you have to be careful, okay? The team worked really hard and we can't undo their work", Lando added before letting the kids know which ones he had the privilege to drive, the ones he raced in and the ones that held important memories for the sport.

"This is the one in the picture that mummy has on her bedside table", Matilda stated as she touched the car that Lando won his first race with.

The memory was special and you couldn't remove the old photo from your bedside table. You and Lando looked younger, but happier all the same at his achievement.

"Yes, that's the one", Lando assured, "it was a very special day", he smiled.

"This one is so pretty, can you pick me up so I can look inside, please?", Fraser asked Lando.

"Me too, please daddy! After Fraser!", Matilda stood next to Lando.

(Thank you for sending this in ✨️)

[thekissofaphrodite]

Hiii im absolutely in-love with your writing and I was wondering if you could do Clarisse X daughter of Hecate (ive seen a few fics of this dynamic and as a child of Hecate and someone who has a massive crush on clarisse I love seeing works like those lmao)

THIS IS AMAZING OML. TYSM FOR REQUESTING THIS!! THIS IS SO FUN TO MAKE <33

Black Magic

Clarisse La Rue x Daughter of Hecate!Reader

Summary: Brewing potions and matchmaking is a fun but not much fun as admiring the infallible Clarisse La Rue.

Warnings: KISSING. (i noticed that almost all of my requests had this warning :P )

Author's Note: I'M BACK WITH MY LAPTOP! AND I'LL TAKE A DAY OFF FROM SCHOOL SINCE IM TIRED FROM TRAVELING BUT HERE I AM! I DO HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE THIS.

__

You loved the smell of brewing potion.

As a child of Hecate, you and your half siblings were often known as witches and matchmakers at camp. But still, some campers looked you in the eye and would call you a freak, Boasting about how their godly parent were part of the olympians, pointing at your mother's lack of place beside the Olympians.

Still, you've got a queue of campers (Mostly girls) waiting outside your cabin, The first ones left your workshop with a big smile on their faces or clutching their best friend whispering excitedly.

you and your siblings don't exactly share the same power for your mother had blessed you with different, but divine powers, and sure enough, you got foreseeing.

But some also left with a distraught expression and muttering a string of curses at you...It's not your fault that that their crushes aren't interested in them! You're just a fortune teller!

__

"B-but this is a mistake! I love Presley! your magic is wrong!" Cried a girl from the aphrodite cabin, tears streaming down her cheeks, smudging her mascara, You gave her a sympathetic look before sighing.

"That's not what it said here..." You looked down at your cauldron with purple-ish pink bubbling liquid, The Boy, who you assumed was presley, had another girl in his arms, twirling her around as they dance into a romantic song. The aphrodite girl stormed away furiously, purposely knocking down several of your stacked candles and jars full of ingredients.

Then, You saw the girl bump into someone, It was Clarisse. The girl frowned, but then gulped when she saw Clarisse staring back at her.

The moment Clarisse saw you, her eyes soften a little bit, her lips curling into a smile as she watched you get flustered.

"Hey"

"Hey" You blushed as you hid your face in a book.

"Can i try?" Clarisse asked.

"Try what?" You raised your brow, staring at her carefully, The cauldron separating you two in between.

"That fortune potion thingy, I wanna know who i'd end up with" Her words made your heart break a little bit, You had a big crush on clarisse la rue the moment you stepped inside camp, and now here she is, you crush asking you to foresee her future with someone else.

You swallowed your disappointment and anger before nodding, your face frowning a little bit as you set your book down and grabbed a pair of scissors.

"I need a piece of your hair" You said, Clarisse then grabbed the scissors and cut a decent amount of hair.

She watched you carefully, her brown eyes glinting with admiration as you recited latin and greek spells before dropping her hair into the cauldron, the smoke started rising and the liquid started bubbling, at first, you thought your eyes deceived you, you saw yourself with clarisse, sitting under a tree your back leaned against hers as you two laughed, hands intertwined as the sun rays hit you two.

you became breathless, your body stiff, Clarisse was confused, her dark brows raised as she scanned your expression.

"Oh my gods, please don't tell me it's Chris Rodriguez" She said, she secretly hoped it would be you, the thought of chris rodriguez and her being all lovey dovey made her sick.

When she peaked into the cauldron, She felt victory, joy, ecstasy she couldn't describe it. Every happy emotions filling her as she watched herself and you in the cauldron, laughing while kissing each other's cheeks lovingly.

You became speechless while watching Clarisse's eyes beam with joy, You two stared at each other for a moment before the Ares girl took the matters to her hands and kissed you.

It took you a moment to process what's going on. Then you find yourself kissing her back, pulling her closer as her breasts pressed against yours.

You two were then interrupted by the sound of the door opening, you two quickly pulled away and stepped back. Clarisse pretended to look around while you improvised some words to save you and Clarisse from being caught.

Your half sister, Lou Ellen looked at you and Clarisse before going to her trunk, rummaging into her things.

"I'll have your strengthening draught ready by tomorrow" You blurted at clarisse, You looked at her and she stared back before nodding.

"Of course" She whispered.

As she left, You saw her wink at you cheekily before closing the door.

"What's that ares girl doing here?" Lou Ellen asked.

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing at all" You whispered, still feeling her lingering touch.

A/N: THIS IS AMAZING OMG!!! I TRIED MY BEST TO MAKE IT MORE WITCHY AND STUFF BUT I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE THIS!!

[thezombieprostitute]

Taking Care of You

A/N: Written for @the-slumberparty's December Daze Challenge.

Prompt: hot chocolate/apple cider/tea and a nice book

Warnings: Implied smut, Language, Pregnancy. Please let me know if I'm missing any!

Series Masterlist

You were sitting on the couch, wrapped up in a blanket, alternating between watching the snow fall and reading your book while drinking cider made from the apples you and Steve had picked earlier in the year. Back before you knew you were pregnant.

Your smile widens at the memory of Steve trying to tell you about it. That it was the reason he'd been in such a territorial, protective mood. You weren't upset with him but you did ask about a pregnancy test or two to confirm. He understood and not only got you the pregnancy tests but also got you a doctor appointment to confirm. Sure enough, you were about a month along then.

Since then Steve has been going into overdrive to make sure you and the baby are safe and comfortable. Emphasis on the comfortable. You never thought you'd go for the kind of man that takes care of almost literally everything for you, but Steve might be changing your mind on that. He somehow manages to be around all the time without feeling suffocating. Even when you go into town together and he's in full on guard mode. If anything, his caring, protective side just makes your hormones go even more out of control.

As if on cue, Steve comes into the living room from his workshop. He's been working on a handmade crib for the little one, insisting he wants the pup to be surrounded by familial scents. He must have worked up a sweat because his shirt is off and you lick your lips at his exposed torso. You gently squeeze your thighs together and he gives you a knowing look.

"Does my girl need some attention?" he almost growls.

"Please, Steve," you whine.

"Tell me what you need, Doll."

"I need you to fuck me, Steve," you whimper. "I need you to fill my pussy with your cock, please!"

Steve's pupils are blown as he starts unwrapping you from your blankets. "It'll cost you, you know."

"What's the price?" you moan. The blankets are off and his hands are pushing down your sweatpants.

"First I get to eat your pussy like it's my last meal."

A shiver runs down your spine as you whimper, "yes, please."

You're woken up by the sound of Steve's voice. You feel a slight pressure on your stomach and, after blinking a few times, you realize Steve is talking to the small bump created by the baby.

"I have no idea what I'm doing," he confesses to the baby bump. "But I promise I'll do whatever it takes to make sure you and your mama are safe and happy." He pauses for a few moments. "That being said, we gotta have a talk about your eating habits. I get that you want a lot of protein but you need to let Mama eat some vegetables. You both need the nutrients. It can't be steak, pork chops, and ham all the time. Though you do seem to accept soups and stir fry. Maybe Mama can teach me how to make those so she can rest some more. Don't think I haven't noticed how tired she's gotten. Seriously, you gotta let her eat some veggies."

His one-sided conversation is interrupted by your giggles.

"Excuse you," he playfully chides, "I'm having a conversation here."

"You're talking to my belly," you counter.

"I'm talking to our baby, thank you."

You both smile softly when he says that. You gesture for him to move in close for a kiss and he acquiesces.

"And I know you're going to be a great dad," you assure him, making his cheeks turn pink.

"We won't know for certain until the baby is here."

"Trust me," you hug him. "You're already working hard to make sure this baby has a great start in life. You've even been reaching out to other werewolves, something you've never done before, just to ask about things for me and the baby. You swallowed your pride for us. That's no small endeavor."

Steve nuzzles his beard against your neck. "Thank you for giving me a much better, richer life than I ever thought I'd get."

"My pleasure, Steve."

Series Masterlist

Tagging: @alicedopey; @darsynia; @delicatebarness; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @irishhappiness; @lokislady82; @ronearoundblindly; @thiquefunlover63

[waltwhitmansbeard]

ok the gentle care list… perc’ahlia and “oh…oh we’re hugging about this okay”

"Oh - okay - we're hugging about this, okay."

Percy's hungry. It's his own damn fault; one day, he'll remember to bring food with him before locking himself in his workshop all night, but, alas, today is not that day. He'd never dream of waking Laina at this hour, so he emerges from his den, bleary-eyed and ready to fend for himself.

The halls of Greyskull Keep are barely lit, just some candles in sconces every ten yards or so, so it's slow going. He's ravenous by the time he reaches the kitchen, which is pitch black. Cursing himself for leaving his lantern in his room, he fumbles around, sure that Laina keeps a book of matches somewhere nearby to light the stove, if only he could—

"Percy?"

He lets out a rather undignified yelp, sending something clattering to the floor. A few moments later, a candle flickers to life, and there is Vex, in her nightdress, looking at him and the knocked-over dinner at his feet with an one eyebrow raised.

He grins, embarrassed. "Ah. Yes. Hello."

"Hello, darling." Her words are light, but there's something off about her tone. "Did you need something?"

He can tell he's interrupted something; he just doesn't know what. "Feeling a bit peckish."

"Mm, yes, you missed dinner. Again." But there's no animosity in it, just general acknowledgement. "Well, I've made myself a little spread, if you'd like to join me." She gestures to the kitchen island between them, which is cluttered with a few cheeses, some strawberries Percy knows to come from Keyleth's garden, and a half-drunk glass of red wine.

"Oh, a midnight snacker after my own heart." He comes around the island to start picking at the makeshift charcuterie board. "So what as you up at this hour? I'm a workaholic, but usually you're rather insistent upon your beauty sleep."

She sticks her tongue out at him, then pops a cube of cheese into her mouth. "Just...couldn't sleep." She shrugs. "It happens sometimes."

He's well familiar with that, isn't he? "Lots of ghosts in the night, aren't there?"

She hums in agreement. There is a minute of silence between them, marred only by small sounds of chewing, and then she asks, "Did you like your father?"

He almost swallows a strawberry whole. "I—sorry—" He finishes hacking before he continues. "Did I what?"

"Your father. Did you like him?" She sips from her glass nonchalantly.

Percy blinks. "I—well—hmm." This was not a question he'd contemplated in a very long time. "He was a complicated man, my father. Not very affectionate, stubborn as a goat, more children than frankly he knew what to do with." Vex laughs at that. "But...I never thought he didn't love us. Me. You always knew where you stood with my father. If he was pleased, he showed it. If he was cross, you knew why." Percy pauses. "To be honest, I'm not sure I knew the man well enough to know if I liked him. He died before I got the chance to understand him as someone other than my father."

"I see." Vex swirls the wine in her glass round and round and round. "My father is an incomparable prick incapable of love."

Percy has no idea what to say to that. He just stares at her, slack-jawed, as she calmly finished her wine and sets her glass down on the island. Then, in the most shocking move yet, she throws her arms around him, burying her face in his chest. He catches her automatically, his hands splaying on her back. "Oh—okay—we're hugging about this, okay."

The de Rolos were never huggers. Too saccharine. Too vulnerable. But the twins were raised differently, he's aware; Vax is always touching somebody, and Vex's first instinct when she's tired or bored or yearning to be anywhere else than where she is is to tip her head onto her brother's shoulder. And that's probably what this is—in lieu of Vax, Percy is Vex's available option when in need of comfort.

So he rests his chin atop her head, feels her shake with sobs, with rage, with careful control, who knows. "You know, your father may not be much use as a father, but that doesn't mean he can't be useful."

"What?" Vex muffles flatly into his shirt.

"Well I, for one, find few things as personally motivating as spite."

Vex tips her head up to frown at him. Her eyes are warm and deep in the candlelight. There's a long silence, and Percy's worried he's stepped in it, but then she snorts out a laugh as her face melts. "You're not wrong, darling." She steps back, and for half a heartbeat, Percy considers not letting her. "A great number of my actions have been motivated by spite, for better or for worse. It can be satisfying, can't it?"

"Undoubtedly so." He doesn't reach up to tuck a loose strand of her hair behind her ear, because to do so would be insane. "Are we feeling better?"

Vex smiles. "A little food, a little wine, a little company...yes, I think so." She rocks up onto her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. "Goodnight, Percy."

And then she is gone, and Percy is alone with the cheese and the strawberries and the feeling of her lips on his face, a lingering warmth in this drafty kitchen. He stands there, unmoving, unblinking, until the candle burns low, until the chill of her absence forces his body toward bed, toward dreams he is not yet ready to understand.

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

Good day to you.

Can you write a top reader w/ bottom G!P Donna. Where Donna actually has a high sex drive, so the reader would drink some sort of aphrodisiac and accidentally put in a high dosage, which makes Donna unable to keep up; despite the high sex drive and comes up with a solution(I'll leave that up to you)

I really love your works & thank you for keeping the fandom alive in my eyes. 🫀

Yesss!!!!! Thank you for your words of appretiation and for your request, it was so funny to write!!! I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!! :))))

Overwhelming desire

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem!! Reader

Warnings: G!P Donna, smut, Minors DNI, fluff,

Word count: 7,596

Summary: You maybe need some help...

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open!!! I'm waiting yours!!!I love you all!!!

You closed your eyes to deepen the pleasure you were feeling. A wet, warm and, as always, overwhelming pleasure.

Her thrusts were soft, but determined, not wasting time but enjoying that improvised passion surrounded by wooden limbs, by the dim and almost sinister lighting of the old workshop.

“Donna…” you moaned, clinging to her as your body rose and fell slowly, guided by her hands, by the slow and hot rhythm of her moans.

Your body enjoyed it. It shuddered every time your walls clung to the lady in black, every time you gave her that obscene and hot hug. The only thing you could say was her name. The only thing you could think about was her. Donna was everything to you, and you were to her too.

Her hands caressed your back, guiding your hips to dance to the music of her passion. You were in heaven, but, somehow, you couldn't reach it. It was a curious irony; pleasure dominated you, your movements were smooth and sure, as if there was nothing different about that old chair.

In part, you weren't wrong. It wasn't the first time that one of your visits to the doll maker ended that way, melting your bodies into one, making love in a wild but tender way. You couldn't get tired of that expression of the brunette about her feelings, that lustful and hot way she had to say with her body, and with her soul, everything you meant to her.

“Amore mio…” she sighed, handling your body effortlessly, sliding into your wet walls without having to ask permission to do so.

Your body always welcomed her, always offered her that warm and comfortable refuge.

“Honey…” you murmured, noticing how her erection moved erratically, how the rhythm of her hips fought against yours, how little by little she lost control and the soft caresses on your back became strong grips on the fabric of your dress.

Lady Beneviento always had that problem, the fear that you would abandon her when she needed you the most, when the heat of your body became irresistibly tempting, even addictive, when hers asked to be released among messy moans.

You would never do it. You would never separate from her. It didn't matter under what circumstances. It didn't matter if you were making love, cooking, simply reading or sleeping. Donna was everything to you, you would never abandon her. You would always please her. Your body would always receive hers as a divine gift.

Your body stopped moving, letting Donna finish what she started, letting her to move at will, to do with you what she wanted. It wasn't a whim, or a desire for the lady in black to dominate your improvised passions.

No, not at all. You were always the one on top, the one who guided her movements, the one who enjoyed listening to her moans, the one who played with her body inside yours the way you wanted.

But that afternoon in the workshop, that sexual dance of clothed, sweaty, passionate bodies, was a bit different from the rest, and you knew why.

“(Y/N)… I’m… Sto per…” Donna stammered, squeezing your hips, holding you in her favorite position when, with a final moan, she released herself inside of you, caressing your body with the heat of her seed, filling you with it, claiming you, tensing with the pleasure of that unmatched sensation.

Panting replaced moans. She pulled away so she could smile at you, so she could tell you with her kisses she loved you while the moisture struggled to stay between your legs.

“Donna…” you sighed, hugging her in a much more comfortable position, leaning on her shoulder.

Your face sketched a tender smile and your eyes closed again. The sweet sound of her shy laugh reached your ears as she held you against her, gently rocking you, coming out of you with an obscene sound.

She sighed, relaxing even more, kissing everything she could reach: your face, your hair, your mouth…

Her bright eye looked at you lovingly, tenderly, far from that aura of lust she had minutes before. But there was something different, something in her gaze, in her slightly furrowed brow that told you there was something wrong.

“What's wrong, darling?” you asked when you saw that spark of concern in her eye, when, after a last kiss on her lips, you got off her lap, uncomfortable with the humidity, wanting to get rid of it under the hot water of a shower. “Didn't you enjoy it?”

“Mm?” she murmured with a distracted look, as if she was focused on your face, on your movements. “Oh, of course, of course I enjoyed it, tesoro... You always make me enjoy it so much...”

Her voice calmed you, as did the hand that reached out to caress yours gently, pulling your body so you would come closer.

“What's the problem?” you asked, with a softer tone, enjoying the softness of her skin.

Donna looked away embarrassed, shaking her head, moving her lips as she always did when she tried to say something and she couldn't.

“Um, I… I haven't noticed that you��” she stammered, avoiding your gaze, squeezing your hand a bit tighter. “You haven't… You haven't… You haven't had an orgasm.”

You smiled falsely, moving closer to caress her cheek, to erase from her gaze any hint of doubt or insecurity.

“Of course I have, my love,” you said with a broken voice, nodding, with your radiant smile ceasing to shine little by little.

“Why are you lying to me?” Donna asked, with a darker look, with seriousness in her features. You should stop trying to deceive her. You couldn't do it, not anymore. “Don't take me for a fool, I know when you have it, and you haven't had it, your body hasn't tensed up.”

“Oh…” you sighed, closing your eyes, blushing due to your lie, searching in your mind for the best possible explanation to that reality you could no longer deny. “I'm sorry, Donna, I didn't mean to lie to you.”

Your apologies were heard with an attentive, almost angry look. You knew it wasn't your fault, you knew that anger, that frustration for not having been able to please you, was directed at herself.

“It was my fault, right?” the brunette said, changing anger for sadness, with her cheeks red from shame, for what she believed, had been a failure.

“Oh, no, no, honey,” you said quickly, removing the shadow of her demons that was already beginning to hover over her head and bending down to be at her height, playing with both of her hands.

“Haven't I lasted long enough?” she asked again, with a calmer voice, surely distracted by your caresses.

“It's not that, honey...” you murmured with a confident voice, willing to find the best way to explain the problem sincerely. “It's just that... Well, I already had two orgasms this morning...”

She watched you, probably looking for the lie again.

“Usually that's not an impediment for you to have more,” the lady commented distrustfully, sighing, keeping her shame back in her underwear. “If I've done something wrong, just...”

“Donna,” you said with a more severe voice, putting your hands on her shoulders, forcing her to look at your face. “You haven't done anything wrong. You've been great, as always, understood?”

She nodded, scared by the abruptness of your behavior. At least you had made it clear...

“O-okay,” she stammered, nodding slowly. You sighed in relief, kissing her quickly and slowly getting up. “But... Hey, come, come here,” she said, pulling you again, sitting you on her lap.

You couldn't help but smile tenderly, as always when you received those affectionate gestures, those soft kisses on your neck.

“Mm... Donna,” you laughed, feeling the tickling of her lips on your skin, giving you shivers.

“I'm not going to let you go, tesoro...” she murmured, caressing your legs under your dress, getting closer to your soaked underwear. “Shh, let me take care of this...”

You opened your eyes wide, automatically shaking your head. No, you'd had enough.

“Umm, no, no, it's not necessary,” you said, getting off of her again, leaving her with the same surprised and confused expression. “I'm fine...”

“But I want to please you,” she protested, trying to pull you back. “I can do it without my penis, really, trust me...”

You laughed nervously. Well, she didn't have to lie. She was like you a while back. Even though that offer was tempting, truly interesting, your body although always willing, that day was exhausted, tired.

“Donna, no...” you said nervously, gesturing with your hand. “I prefer, I prefer to relax.”

The lady looked at you curiously, tilting her head in a funny way, but finally, she nodded, with a frustrated gesture on her face.

“As you wish, (Y/N),” Donna finally whispered.

You nodded with a smile, approaching to rub her back affectionately, stealing a kiss on her cheek.

“I'm going to take a shower and then, if you want, I'll prepare (Y/N)'s famous meatballs for you,” you commented, whispering in her ear and earning another shy laugh, another dazzling smile. “No, no, no, no, don't even try to deny it... I know you love them...”

“Mm, maybe it's because I told you the recipe,” she murmured, with a mischievous smile.

“Oh, maybe it's, but you haven't named them, honey,” you joked, moving away from her with a sigh.

“W-Wait,” Donna interrupted, just when you were already walking towards the exit. “I, I need a shower too, can I join you?”

“Oh, um...” you said, with a confused look. You knew how that shower was going to end, how your body would be taken by her desire again. Shyly, you shook your head. “Mm, no, I... I need some... Peace,” you said in a low voice, transmitting sincerity with your gaze, not cowardice.

“Oh, well, va bene,” she said, apparently without giving it any importance, getting up from the table and grabbing you by the waist, kissing you slowly before separating your paths in that dark basement.

The hot water ran down your body slowly, relaxing the unfinished tension in your muscles. Although you didn't give importance to the fact that you couldn't release yourself, you couldn't stop thinking about it.

Normally your body was always versatile, adapting to all the situations that appeared in front of it, to all those outbursts of passion. Lately, it seemed to be having a hard time, and you had no doubt why.

You, a simple villager, born into a humble, hard-working family, loyal to the Black Gods and Mother Miranda, had changed your life completely. You wouldn’t longer be the boring and unhappy wife of an idiot, and your life would not be boring and flat, meaningless, irrelevant.

You never saw those options as valid for someone like you and, as if fate agreed with you, it offered you a way out of the tedious routine.

Donna Beneviento, Lord, servant of the Black Gods, seemed like that sign you were waiting for all your life, the sign that told you that your life would never be the same again.

Sick, disturbed, dangerous woman… Adjectives that always accompanied the dark lady in black, that shadow walking like a ghost, who rarely let herself be seen. Curiosity had always been one of your greatest virtues, or one of your greatest defects, you couldn't say exactly what.

That curiosity coming from the boredom to which your life was condemned, made you want to know something about that strange woman, the darkest, youngest, and most dangerous of the Lords.

Everything you believed in blurred like a sigh, with a hoarse and soft voice, with a melodic accent coming out of that black veil.

You, believing that true love was a divinity far removed from the Black Gods, that those true feelings were not programmed for you, you saw yourself completely lost in those soft hands, in that tone of voice, in that shyness, that sweetness that you, only you, were able to see in Lady Beneviento.

Nothing, nothing could make those feelings fade away, not even the deformity of her face, not even that stupid scar that Donna hid under the black veil was able to hide her beauty.

She was a sick woman, yes, self-conscious, ashamed of her appearance, of her body. Luckily, you came into her life like the light that was missing in hers, like the voice that repeated over and over again how perfect she was for you.

Everything was going well, it was perfect. You loved her, she loved you. You lived with her in that beautiful, dark mansion. Everything seemed idyllic, until your flaws came to light again.

You weren't interested in love until you met Donna, but you had shared moments of meaningless passion with some of the girls in the village. Sex was something natural, necessary, and for you, it was nothing but an entertainment.

That thought was distorted by the desire to love Donna, by the desire to complete the piece of the puzzle your relationship was. She didn't care about making love, for her it was something shameful, something she didn't think she was capable of doing.

Her eternal loneliness, her unusual body… It loomed over the lady in black, forcing her to reject all your advances.

But that, obviously, didn't last forever. When finally, one random night, after a random romantic dinner, you managed to get rid of her fears, put aside her insecurities and make love to her for the first time.

It was an amazing experience, even for you, a more experienced girl. Donna was gentle, soft, kind, romantic. Yes, of course, that was what it meant to make love to someone you loved.

But it all soon came back to haunt you. Your insistence, the arguments you had with Donna before she let herself get carried away by passion, had the opposite effect to what they had intended.

The carnal pleasure of entering your body was something new for her, something she hadn’t been lucky enough to enjoy. Tasting you, touching the pleasure with her own hands, experiencing it in her own body instead of imagining it, was a turning point for the doll maker.

It was like an addictive drug, once you try it, you can't stop. Something similar happened to Donna.

Morning, noon, afternoon, night, dawn... Any time of day was good for her, any time was ideal to let herself be carried away by desire, to love you. It was an almost excessive, obsessive passion, but one that you welcomed.

Her sexual desire seemed to have no limits. She had stopped being the prudish, chaste and shameful Donna, to become a love machine, a bundle of nerves wanting to make love to you whenever her body asked for it.

You got what you wanted, but also, more than you asked for. That radical change in the brunette could be a simple phase, an unleashing, a release of that passion contained by all those years of loneliness.

It was not a phase, she continued wanting more, and more…

It was not something bad for you. You enjoyed each one of those moments, but your body… Your body had been crying out for rest for a long time. All your muscles were tense. Sleep dominated your daily routine. You began to feel overwhelmed.

Talking to her might seem like the best option, but it wasn't possible. You knew her. You knew her mental problems, her insecurities. You couldn't just say "no", that would make poor Donna think you didn't love her anymore.

On the other hand, you wanted your body to relax, to stop being that weak. Donna wasn't a selfish woman. She liked to hear you moan in pleasure, to see how your body writhed on hers. Her release didn't make sense to her if she couldn't get yours.

You liked her the way she was. You loved that passion, but... You would have to start looking for a solution.

It was a quiet meal. Neither of you made any comment about what had happened. Donna was not exactly the most talkative woman in the world, which made you take advantage of that quiet lunch to mull over the worries in your mind.

Really, what your body needed was a break, and you knew that. But the dark part of your mind, the lust that was indulged day after day, didn’t want to lose the pleasure of those moments.

Possible solutions flew through your head, through your thoughts. No, talking was not among the options, asking Donna for a truce could lead to a crisis, or an argument. You would have to do something, before the lady in black realized that your body could no longer bear her sexual impulse.

“Delicious, huh?” you asked amused, breaking that relaxing silence.

Donna smiled at you, nodding pleased, as always when you did something, anything for her. She was wonderful, you couldn’t fail her.

“Everything you do is delicious,” she murmured with that melodic voice that drove you crazy, that made you bite your lip involuntarily.

“How flattering...” you sighed with a tender voice, arching your eyebrows. She looked at you again, shaking her head.

“I like to flatter you,” the lady said with a serious voice, stating an unshakable truth for her.

“Mmm, I know...” you sighed, looking down, uncomfortable with the pain your body felt, feeling that little by little, that desire was disappearing from it, that her sweet words no longer had the same effect.

You needed that solution.

“The Duke will come tomorrow,” Donna said, changing the subject erratically, as always. “If you want to ask him for something specific, you still have time.”

“Oh, yes…” you said, disinterested, frowning. “I think I'll refrain from asking for contraband this time…”

“Are you sure you're okay?” Donna asked, with a more distrustful look. Naturally, it was impossible for her to forget her “failure” that easily. She was probably still worried about it.

A few loose words began to repeat themselves over and over in your mind…

Solution, Duke, contraband…

“Yes, yes,” you said, outside the dining room, outside that conversation, trying to connect the dots of the encrypted messages that your subconscious was sending. “I don't like giving you problems.”

“Schiocchezze… You know you are safe with me. You can do whatever you want,” she murmured, proud that her position as a Lord gave you possibilities unthinkable for any other villager. “Don't you want another game for that weird machine?”

“That weird machine, Donna, is called Game Boy, and it’s very funny, you should try it,” you joked, still focused on your thoughts.

“No, grazie, I prefer to enjoy the tranquility of a book, or my dolls. I don't think that thing is good for you…” she murmured amused, worried that weird machine, as she said, would steal your attention from her.

You thought it was adorable, even a machine could make her jealous.

“Tell that to the Duke,” you said amused, with the words becoming clearer in your mind. “If he didn't sell it…”

“What he doesn't sell?” Donna joked, causing a gust of cold air to hit your face, a revelation to illuminate the sentence that was floating around in your head.

The Duke might have a solution.

Yes, it seemed unlikely, and there was certainly no other way to get what you wanted naturally. A little help, maybe some herbs, a special tea, or something… Aphrodisiac, could push your body to feel that desire again, to not disappoint the lady in black, and, above all, to not make her think she had disappointed you.

For now, that was your only option.

The next day, the merchant appeared at the estate.

“I’m coming, darling,” you whispered to Donna while you read next to her, preventing her from getting up to attend to the merchant. No, she couldn't find out.

“Mm,” Donna murmured, returning her gaze to that boring book of plants.

You walked towards the door, mentally rehearsing the most discreet way to ask for what you needed.

“Miss (Y/N)… I'm glad to see that you're still in perfect condition… Or almost,” the merchant commented, with a sinister smile.

“What? What do you mean by almost?” you asked, closing the door behind you and going down the stairs, looking at yourself in case there was something strange.

“You don't look well…” he said, pointing at your face. “Aren't you sleeping well lately?”

You groaned, crossing your arms impatiently.

“What do you care?” you said with an annoyed tone, going over to grab the bags that were there for you, checking their contents. You were quite nervous, you weren't even sure if asking that extravagant man for help was a good idea.

“I care about the well-being of special clients like you, (Y/N), I wouldn't like the ghosts of my past to come and torment me,” he commented, catching the bag of coins you threw at him, pointing with his gaze at the Beneviento mansion.

“Ghosts from your past?” you asked amused, taking the objects out of the bags, examining the quality of the vegetables. “Do you have a past?”

“Oh, of course…” he whispered, counting coins.

“Ha, I doubt it,” you whispered, arching your eyebrows. “You are like any of those trees, you have always been here.”

“What does the word always mean to you?” he asked with a sinister voice.

You sighed, rolling your eyes.

“Oh, no, I don't have time for philosophical conversations,” you said with a tired voice, putting your hands on your temples.

“Don't you have time?” he asked amused, putting the coins in his carriage. “In that case… I'll leave…”

You opened your eyes wide, deciding at the last moment whether to ask that vermin for help or not.

“Wait, wait,” you said in a discreet voice, checking that there were no Donnas, or sinister dolls behind the half-open door.

The Duke stopped his act of leaving, turning slowly with a curious look.

“What do you need?” he asked in an equally discreet, almost mocking tone, imitating you. You made a gesture with your hands for him to lower his voice, getting closer to the carriage.

“Shh, don't speak loud,” you protested angrily, looking everywhere, except at those greedy eyes. “I need to ask you for something.”

“Go ahead, (Y/N), if I have it, it's yours,” he said studying your confused look.

“Hey, lower your voice…” you said nervously, playing with your hands, which were starting to sweat. “It's something… Complicated.”

“There's nothing complicated in business, Miss,” he said, laughing amused. “You ask, I'll sell it to you.”

“Okay, cut the crap,” you said with an impatient gesture. “It's not a common request, besides, I don't even know why I'm asking you.”

“I'm afraid divination isn't among my skills… You'll have to be more specific,” the man sighed, also starting to get impatient.

“Ugh,” you groaned, your cheeks red from embarrassment. “Okay. You sell all kinds of medicinal teas, right?”

“See how you didn't look good?” the merchant asked, satisfied by your question, picking up a small box full of bags and jars. “Tell me what symptoms you have… Maybe a cold? Fever? Upset stomach?”

“No, no,” you shook your head, making him shut up and stop moving that box, looking at you with a raised eyebrow.

“Migraines?” he asked curiously, as if he suspected something. “Nausea?”

“No, damn it,” you hissed nervously, looking all the time at the crack in the door.

“Oh, okay… Maybe this is what you’re looking for…” the Duke murmured, taking out another object and throwing it at you in an unpleasant manner.

“What? A pregnancy test? Really?” you asked annoyed, feeling a shiver with that object in your hand. “No, it's not that. I hope so…”

“Be more specific, I beg you,” the Duke whispered, with that same amused tone.

“Okay, okay,” you said, running a hand over your forehead. “Aphrodisiac, I need an aphrodisiac, have I been specific enough?”

“Oh…” he hummed amused, going back to that small box and rummaging through the bottles. “Why didn't you say it before?”

“Because I know what you’re thinking,” you murmured, crossing your arms again, looking away.

“Is it for you?” he asked, taking out two bottles from the box.

“What do you care?” you whispered embarrassed.

“I don't care, Miss (Y/N), but if it's not for you... Well, I have more specific remedies...” he commented amused, shaking one of the bottles. “Does Lady Beneviento have erection problems?”

“Oh, Gods, no!” you said abruptly, with your face completely red. “Why does everyone know that Donna...?”

The man shrugged, laughing amused.

“It's a small village, Miss,” he said, unable to stop laughing. “Well?”

“No, it's not for Donna, she's... Well, too well, in fact...” you explained, tired of that conversation. “Very well, do you understand?”

“Oh, so the problem is yours...” he commented, taking out another bottle.

“Shut up and give me that, oh, and don't say a word of this or I'll cut your balls off, got it?” you threatened, snatching the bottle from his hand.

“Oh, how rude,” he sighed amused, coughing in agony. “But you know that silence...”

“Yeah, yeah, it has a price,” you said furiously, squeezing the bottle tightly in your hands and throwing him another bag of coins. Donna had so much money that she would never notice. “Will this be enough to shut you up?”

“Of course... It's a pleasure doing business with you...” he sighed, putting the bag away in a satisfactory manner. “Oh, a piece of warning...”

“Fine, okay, speak,” you said, focused on the clear liquid that didn't inspire any confidence in you.

“Put just a few drops if you don't want to... Get into trouble...” the Duke commented, something you barely paid attention to.

When you realized it, the merchant had disappeared, but the blush on your cheeks was still present on your face.

“Damn it, you stupid gossip…” you whispered, picking up the bags, putting the bottle away, and entering the mansion again.

“Tesoro…” Donna said, approaching the entrance. “Why took you so long?”

You faked one of your best smiles, along with a tired sigh.

“Ugh, he felt like negotiating today…” you lied, carrying the bags.

“Did he bother you?” the lady asked, worried, putting a hand on your shoulder, with a dangerous look. You shook your head, stealing a reassuring kiss from her lips.

“No, my love…” you whispered tenderly. “Why don't you keep reading? I'll take care of this.”

“Do you need help?” Donna asked kindly, pinching your nose playfully. You shook your head again.

“No, no… Um… Would you like to have some tea?” you asked, finding in that infusion the perfect cover for your plans.

“Some tea?” she asked, nodding with a pleasant, grateful smile. “Of course, tesoro.”

“No,” you said playfully, kissing her again before walking towards the elevator. “Thank you, Donna…”

When you finally finished putting everything away, you sighed, looking around and discreetly taking the bottle out of your pocket while you boiled water.

“Just a few drops…” you repeated the Duke's words unsurely, uncapping the bottle and smelling it distrustfully. It had a sweet and appealing aroma… It didn't seem dangerous.

You finished pouring the tea, looking at the two cups after a nervous sigh. Little by little, you picked up the jar from the counter, tilting it slightly over one of the cups.

“Idiota!” An irritating squeal made you jump in place, accidentally spilling more than half of the contents into your cup. Of course, Angie's absence couldn't last long.

“Shit… Angie!” you shouted furiously, looking at the puppet, who laughed amused by her victory, for bringing you to the brink of a heart attack. “How… How did you get here?”

“How did I get here? By elevator, you idiot, how else?” the puppet said, climbing onto the counter. “What are you doing?”

“Making some tea,” you hissed, hiding the jar back in your pocket. Luckily, she didn't seem to have noticed. “Are you trying to scare me to death?”

“No, no,” she said amused, exaggerating. “I just like to see your terrified eyes…”

“That's nice,” you said ironically, putting the cups on a tray. “You know that Donna doesn't like it.”

“But Donna isn't here,” the doll answered, leaning in an impossible way. “Foolish villager… Coward…” she sang mockingly.

You ignored her, rolling your eyes and picking up the tray, trying not to look away from the contaminated cup, taking out the half-empty bottle again as you went up the elevator.

“I guess nothing will happen…” you murmured, putting the bottle away again, and walking back to the brunette, who continued reading peacefully. “Your tea, Lady Beneviento,” you said amused, leaving the tray on the table.

She laughed amusedly, caressing your cheek in gratitude, granting your eyes the privilege of seeing her tender smile.

“Grazie…”she sighed, reaching out her hand to grab the wrong cup, something you prevented by grabbing her wrist.

“Oh, no, no, that's mine,” you said nervously, grabbing the cup roughly. “It's just that…” you murmured when you saw her confused face. “It has too much sugar.”

“Mm,” she whispered, nodding slightly, grabbing the other cup. “Don't eat so much sugar, tesoro… It will ruin your smile.”

“Do you know what will ruin my smile? Not seeing you wake up next to me every day,” you said romantically, causing her lips to launch themselves against yours.

“Che romantica sei…” she whispered in a sensual voice, seductive as always. You laughed, moving away to sit on the couch, bringing the cup to your lips. “You drive me crazy, (Y/N)…”

“I was born this way,” you joked, winking at her and drinking more and more from your cup.

The taste was sweet, like a fruit cake. The burning aromas of the tea mixed with that strange product. Well, at least the taste was good.

Time passed in silence. You and Donna exchanged glances from time to time, like every afternoon, while each one enjoyed her own reading. It was a pleasant moment, but you started to get nervous.

That strange liquid seemed to have no effect, and, anxious, you drank the rest of the contents of the cup with a strange gesture.

You sighed once, twice, you didn't feel anything. Nothing seemed to have changed. Nothing until you got more comfortable, until you put your legs up on the sofa. It was a strange sensation, a sensation multiplied by 10, that sensation of your own skin touching you.

You frowned at that sudden, unexpected pleasure, the pleasure of feeling something, your own leg rubbing against the other, sending a shiver down your spine. The heat that seemed to have left that room began to enter your body. Your breathing became labored and, with your hands, you rubbed your thighs.

You knew that the heat, that those sensations were not natural, you knew that the intensity of your caresses increased on their own, that your body was asking for that touch, that something was happening to you. You shouldn't have mistrusted that fat swindler. It seemed that the aphrodisiac was beginning to take effect.

Automatically, you looked at the lady in black and she returned your gaze, one that penetrated your chest like a flame, which increased the already existing trembling in your increasingly hot body.

Your hand went alone between your legs, feeling a moisture that was forming in that place, one that could only be explained by Donna's beauty, by having her perfect body so close to yours.

The need to increase the subtle touch of your hands became unbearable. Almost without wanting to, your caresses became much more lustful, much more, until, feeling your fingers brushing your covered clit and your mouth spoke for itself making you emit a strange moan.

“(Y/N), are you okay?” Donna asked, looking at you, looking at that hot mess in front of her. Your mouth smiled, your eyes became dangerous as you nodded.

“Better than okay, Donna,” you purred, increasing the intensity of your own caresses, with your mind blocked, imagining Donna inside of you, imagining that they were not your hands, but hers.

She smiled confusedly, closing her book and getting up from the couch, her gaze fixed on your playful hand.

“What are you doing?” she asked, sitting down next to you, caressing your leg curiously. “Are you…?”

“Do you want to watch or are you going to join, darling?” you asked in a velvety voice, moving to open your legs in front of her as your lustful touch grew ever more intense.

“Join?” Donna asked, with a nervous smile, joining her hands to your trembling legs, gasping as she watched your entire body writhe at her timid, exploratory touch.

“Mm,” you moaned, grabbing her hand, bringing it to your mouth. Your body was no longer yours, you were no longer its owner, that aphrodisiac had taken control and you… liked it.

Slowly, with your mouth burning, you put her fingers in your mouth, savoring the sweetness of her skin, the sensation of a part of her body being devoured by the heat of your tongue.

“(Y/N)…” Donna sighed, amazed by the eroticism of that movement, of the soft suction of your mouth on her fingers, making her travel to the darkest thoughts of her mind, perhaps imagining that it was not her fingers.

“Are you going to just stand there watching?” you asked defiantly, leaning towards her, putting your legs on either side of her hips as you laid her down on the couch.

Your hot body moved over hers as your mouth changed targets, devouring her lips mercilessly as your hips danced over hers, moaning at the subtle brush of your wetness against the bulge that had already formed in the black fabric of her dress.

“Mm,” you moaned again, with a dangerous look, devouring every inch of her skin, her lips, her neck. Your body needed her, it claimed hers with an anxiety you didn't remember having, much greater than that of your first time.

“Cosa c’è, (Y/N)?” the lady asked, unable to stop your kisses from getting wilder, your hands from traveling down her dress, undoing her buttons, groping her breasts and finally, going down to free her imprisoned erection. “You're so…”

“I'm crazy about you, Donna,” you whispered, massaging her shaft slowly while, with the other hand, you struggled to take off your underwear so your eager body could get closer to her desire. “I want to fuck you.”

“Hey, no… No… Don't be that…” she protested, silenced by another furious, wet kiss, which you used to distract her from the movements of your hips, which were positioned on the tip, slowly going down. “Oh, amore mio!” she exclaimed when she saw herself surrounded by your copious moisture, surprised by the ease with which she moved inside of you.

“Donna!” you moaned, moving erratically, with her completely inside of you, with your body sending intense, almost unbearable signals of pleasure. “Gods!”

With a sinister growl, your hips began to move, with your hands on her chest, being the complete owner of the movements of that improvised act of passion, wanting to be the only owner, feeling selfish, desperate for that exaggerated pleasure not to disappear.

The moans were not calm, slow, romantic, no… They were wild, intense, indiscreet. Your body moved furiously on hers, her erection dancing on your tight, sensitive walls, while Donna, closing her eye, tried to withstand the intense embrace of your body.

“Yes!” you screamed, tilting your head when, after a few movements, the sensation of your release devastated all your senses. Your body shook abruptly, your muscles tensed without difficulty, but… Still, you didn't think it was the end.

The desire in your body didn't relax, not even when poor Donna, trapped between your legs, unable to move under your hips, also released amidst your exaggerated cries of pleasure.

Your movements decreased in intensity, but your gaze was still dangerous. You were stimulating your wetness yourself, even with the brunette inside you. You didn't want that sensation to leave you, it was your priority.

“(Y/N)… W-Wait a moment,” the doll maker stammered, breathing heavily, putting her hands on your hips to control your erratic movements, eager to obtain more and more pleasure.

“No,” you said abruptly, biting your lip, without stopping moving, controlling your wet and hot dances, the mixture of your release and hers going down your leg. “I don’t want to, keep gping, Donna, please…”

“Um… I…” she murmured, shaking her head, but unable to protest your insatiable desire. Her shaft hardened again thanks to your insistence, something that made you moan in pleasure, returning that anxious madness to your hips.

“You're so big, Donna… Do you see how my body wants you? How tight I am?” you whispered in a dangerous, almost disturbing voice, biting her earlobe. “How big you become for me…”

“Yes… Sì…” she stammered, nodding, controlling her moans, moving her body again to slide further inside you so her shaft covered by her own seed was pleased by the embraces of your walls.

“Keep going, keep going! I'm going to…!” you screamed, moving roughly, finding it difficult to satisfy your body's desire, releasing again, and again, and again…

“Gods… (Y/N)…” Donna said, caressing your hot cheek, moaning when she filled you again without intending to, completely surrendered to your excessive passion. “Tesoro…”

“Donna…” you whispered, with a tender voice, catching your breath, feeling you had finally release, that the effect of that aphrodisiac had worn off. Nothing could be further from the truth.

“You are very… Fiery…” she commented amused, getting out of your and resting your head on her chest. “You… You have left me exhausted…”

“Mm,” you said, laughing tenderly, twisting around in her body, opening your eyes horrified by what you felt.

No, your body hadn't gotten tired. Your body wanted more, much more. You tried to ignore that feeling, probably caused by the excess of liquid you poured into the tea. You thought that would pass sooner or later.

“Shall we take a shower, (Y/N)?” Donna asked, playing with your hair, also trying to catch her breath.

Yes, a shower seemed like a good idea.

Spoiler: It wasn't.

The hot water stimulated your desire even more. The sight of her perfect naked body clouded your reasoning, your logical thinking. The wetness of your legs mixed with the water, the heat of the water seeming to cool down in contact with your body… You wanted more, you needed more.

With a mischievous laugh, you hugged the brunette from behind. It might have seemed like an innocent hug, but it wasn't. Your hand traveled over her bare skin, caressing her belly, running your fingers over her breasts while your lips subtly attacked her neck.

Donna didn't protest until those caresses went lower, until they reached her already exhausted penis, caressing it gently, hugging it with your hand under the hot water.

“Tesoro... What are you...?” she whispered, surprised by your unusual insistence, by that ability of your hand slowly stimulating her body, preparing it again for you. “W-Wait, wait...”

“Shhh,” you whined sharply, not stopping moving your hand, not stopping playing with it, causing her body to betray her, to make one last effort to please you.

The tiredness was evident, but, even so, her body reacted again, hardening in a softer way but it was more than enough for your inexhaustible desire.

With a nervous gasp, you turned the doll maker around, hanging from her neck, devouring her with kisses again while your hips moved anxiously on her timid erection.

Donna could protest, but she didn't. With a tired moan, she lifted one of your legs, passing it around her waist, taking you again under the shower, standing, roughly and clumsily, but enough for the pleasure to overwhelm you again. Your satisfied body released itself several times, but it didn't seem to be satiated.

Donna did her best, timidly releasing herself inside of you again. She must have been exhausted, in fact, you were surprised that she was still able to please you.

Unfortunately, the Duke's warning crossed your mind. Just a few drops. You did it wrong and that was your doom. The burning in your body didn't go away.

But Donna couldn't take it anymore, she wasn't able to please you, she even started looking at you with some fear when she came out of the shower, noticing that the lust didn't disappear from your gaze.

As if she wanted to run away from you, she disappeared from the bathroom, just when you indiscreetly knelt in front of her, ready to enjoy another round of exhausting passion.

“Hey! Come here!” you shouted at the brunette's sudden escape, pointing at the floor and kicking it furiously. “Donna! Bring your little big thing here, now!”

“N-No...” You heard murmuring in the basement.

You groaned. It wasn't really you. That horrible liquid was running through your veins, speaking for you. Without even bothering to cover yourself with a towel, you left the bathroom to chase her.

“What are you doing running around naked?!” Angie protested, covering her eyes when you passed by her. “You're going to cause me a trauma!”

You ignored the doll and followed the wet footprints of her footsteps to the bedroom.

“Donna...” you hummed, sensually sticking your leg out the door. “Come on, get out...”

“No,” you heard someone say inside the room, where the brunette was taking refuge, covering herself with both hands between her legs. “D-don't come closer, (Y/N)...”

“Hey, come on, will you stop fooling around and come here?” you said, letting yourself fall on the bed, opening your legs again. “I need you, Donna…”

“No, no, I… What's wrong with you?” she said, shaking her head, trying not to look directly at you.

“I'm playful…” you hummed again, running a hand through that constant moisture. “Come on, come… Just a little…”

“Just a little? (Y/N), I can't take it anymore,” Donna said, with a painful grimace, with her hands still covering her shame. “I can't, I couldn't even if I wanted to…”

“Don't be that weak, I know you can,” you said, frowning.

“Weak? Don't you understand? No… I can't… I'm, I'm… Empty,” she whispered embarrassed, covering herself with a robe. “Let me rest, per-per favore…”

“Of course, of course, you can ask for a break, right?” you said angrily, sitting on the bed and crossing your arms.

Poor Donna blinked confused, nervous.

“I don't know what you're talking about, tesoro…”

“What, what am I talking about? Donna, you are… You are insatiable, do you know what it is to have… That, pointing at me all day long?” you said, pointing between her legs. She looked at herself and then at you, with the same surprised look.

“But, but…” she stammered, moving nervously.

“Donna, I'm a human being, do you understand? I need some rest,” you said seriously, fighting against the heat of your body, talking nonsense, reproaching those things that you should have talked to her about a long time ago.

“I, I understand, amore mio but… What is this about? You are, you are the one who…”

“Oh, yes it’s me… Do you know why? Because I don't dare tell you to keep your cock in your dress for at least one day, just one day, Donna, is that too much to ask?”

“If I remember correctly, you were the one who insisted on making love,” the lady in black hissed, with a darker look, annoyed by your vulgar language. “Does it make you upset now?”

“Do you think I’m upset?” you asked back, looking away arrogantly. “Do you know why I'm like this?”

“No…” she sighed, approaching cautiously, placing a hand on your forehead. “Mamma mia… You're burning.”

“Yes… I… Oh, I'm stupid, this is because of that damn aphrodisiac,” you lamented, venting your frustration on the sheets.

“If you don't want me to love you so many times… You just had to tell me,” Donna whispered, sitting next to you.

“I know but… Donna, I know you, I know you'd take it wrongly…” you said, just as she moved nervously, getting up from the bed.

“Wait, did you say aphrodisiac? What aphrodisiac?” Donna asked confused, with a furious look.

You didn't answer. You simply got up and ran to the bathroom, to search your dress for the remains of that cursed liquid, letting her see it.

“Wow...” Donna whispered, observing the cause of your constant burning. “I think you've put too much…”

“Don't tell me...” you said, with irony. “Now I can't stop... I'm... Oh...”

“Tesoro... Don't do these things for me... I prefer you to be honest with me, please... Don't lie to me anymore...” she said in a soft voice, taking your hands and caressing your cheeks.

You nodded, kissing her lips, repressing the pleasure that simple contact gave you.

“What do I do now?” you asked, sighing nervously.

Donna shrugged, comforting you with her caresses.

“I'm sorry, tesoro... I didn't think I was so... insistent... I really enjoy loving you, you know?” she said. “Tell me what I can do to help you,” she offered, making your smile grow wider

You opened your eyes wide, snatching the bottle from her.

“Don't apologize,” you said. “If you want me to forgive you, do me a favor and... Drink it, let's see if you come back to life...”

“But, but...”

“Donna, do it.”

[kandisheek]

FIC REC WEEK 49 – SMUT PT. 2

dick drunk by mistymountainking

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: E Words: 17,650 Tags: Alcoholism, Rough Sex, Multiple Orgasms

Summary: “I’m going to fuck you stupid,” Steve says, pulling away only a fraction of an inch to say it, a promise as deep and certain as the look in his eyes, “and you’re going to take it. Aren’t you, Tony.” Tony wants a drink. Steve gives him something else.

Reasons why I love it: If you like protective Steve giving it to Tony so good that he forgets about his itch to drink, then you are in luck, because this fic is amazing. It's so fucking hot, there are feels and filth in equal measure, and their dynamic is incredible. Definitely read this one, it's one of my favorite smut fics ever!

It Might Almost Be Worth It by nightwalker

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: T Words: 7,425 Tags: Asexual Steve, Sex Pollen, Declarations of Love

Summary: Tony couldn’t decide if this was more humiliating or frustrating, but either way it was easily the worst thing that had happened all week.

Reasons why I love it: I've never thought about the implications of asexual people getting hit by sex pollen, but after reading this fic, I want 339859 more fics with this exact same premise! The conflict and emotions are so good, especially because nightwalker is such a fantastic writer. I adore this fic, and I bet you will too!

Just a Few More Sets by FrankTheSnek

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: E Words: 2,151 Tags: PWP, Frottage, Workout Sex

Summary: As soon as the soldier's elbows locked up Tony moved. Swiftly unfolding his legs and stretching them out under his partner. “Tony, what are you–” Tony ignored him, lying down fully and shimmying his way under Steve the same way he would a car he was working on. He shifted and squirmed a little, finally settling and smirking up at the other man. Steve hadn't broken form and was staring down at him with wide slightly confused eyes. “Continue,” Tony said as if it were obvious. (Or, Tony is horny and tired of waiting for Steve to finish working out.)

Reasons why I love it: Cue the kink I never knew I had, Jesus Christ, this is so hot. Frank really has their voices down, and the way they write smut is phenomenal, I was fanning myself like a Victorian lady the first time I read this. I adore this fic, and if you haven't read it yet, then you definitely should!

I'm Your Nickelodeon by Cluegirl

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: M Words: 22,381 Tags: Voyeurism, Masturbation, Game of Chicken

Summary: It was just a little furtive jacking-off in the shower; no harm done, and Steve's seen worse in the army. Heck, he's seen worse on Tony's YouTube tag, so why on earth Tony hiding in his workshop over it now?

Reasons why I love it: Steve Double-Dog-Dare-Me Rogers is the best thing since sliced bread. I adore this game they're playing, they're both so deep into it and yet so oblivious at the same time, I love it. This fic is as fun as it is hot as hell, and if you haven't read it yet, I highly recommend that you do!

Slap you on the back and say “Please” by scribblywobblytimeylimey

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: E Words: 3,339 Tags: Bi-Curiosity, Accidental Bondage, Coming in Pants

Summary: The attack comes unexpectedly, in the middle of a meeting and without his suit. He manages fine - he's not a child - and, alright, he had a bit of help. But then the roof decides to go and collapse on him. Good thing Steve was there to jump on top of him before the ceiling did. Only thing is: now, they're kind of stuck. And while Steve is visibly displeased with the situation, certain parts of him disagree with that consensus. It's almost impossible not to have a long, hard think about your sexuality when you've got an aroused super-soldier pinned on top of you for an indeterminate length of time. Especially if he's admitting his boner is not exactly coincidental.

Reasons why I love it: This fic is one of my absolute favorites. I always love a Steve who is completely overwhelmed by his desire for Tony, and this version of him fits that to a T. Plus, the entire smutty bit is fantastic, it's so hot. Definitely check this one out!

[love4ng1e]

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Beginners guide to manifesting!!

By love4ng1e 𝜗𝜚

Requested by @limitless180

You asked for techniques, but Imma give you the whole pack because i'm cool like that. I'm going to keep it simple so you don't overcomsume. I said this was going to take a day or so, but never mind because I manifested time to make this.

I did a separate post on some of those stuff, but this is it all together. This is the only post you need.

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1.0: What is manifesting?

By simple definition manifesting is getting what you want. There is no need to make it any more complicated.

2.0: How to manifest?

There's multiple ways to manifest and there's no wrong or bad way.

I am a master manifestor, so I'll be honest and say that I do absolutely nothing to manifest except simply just acting like a master manifestor. I'll still give you ways I used that worked for me when I was a beginner, and that works for other people, too.

2.1: Robotic affirming.

Robotic affirming is repeatedly repeating any affirmation of your choice. What that does is reinforce that you have your desire and then plays out in your 3d (I will talk about the 3d a little farther).

It's very important to persist when it comes to this technique. Your affirm until it is factual in the 3d. You do not take no for an answer. It has no choice, but to manifest.

You repeat the affirmation any time. Regardless of what you're doing. As much as you want/feel necessary. Before falling asleep and first thing in the morning are both very powerful times. If you tend to forget, you can set alarms.

If this gets tiring to you, please switch techniques. This isn't for everyone.

2.2: Subliminals.

Subliminals are hidden affirmations under music/sounds. These affirmations directly bypass the conscious mind, directly to the subconscious mind (I also will talk about that a bit farther).

There are plenty of subliminal channels out there, but not all of them are trustworthy.

Good ones are:

I want it, I got it > link (she's my personal fav)

Cee > link

Baejin Cafe > link

Moza Morph > link

Kottie > link

Eve > link

Enchanted Workshop > link

Crystie > link

The best way to know if a subliminal channel is trustworthy is to read the comments. If there's none, I would stay away.

You can listen whenever you want. Headphones/Airpods are recommended.

2.3: Vision boards.

You can use pinterest for that. You simply make a board full of pins of what it is you want to manifest. For example, if you want a cat, you make a vision board full of cats. After that, you visualize it anytime you want. You can mediate while visualizing.

2.4 The law of assumption/loa.

The law of assumption/loa, also just called the law, was popularized by Neville Goddard, It focuses on your belief system. The core idea is whatever you assume to be true will manifest in your life.

Assume the feeling of wish fulfilled - Instead of focusing on attracting something external, you convince yourself that you already have it internally. That belief shifts your reality to align with that assumption.

Step 1: Identify what you want.

Step 2: Assume it's already yours. Feel and act as if your desires is already yours.

Step 3: Persist in the assumption. Even if your external reality doesn't reflect it yet, hold on to the belief until it manifests.

3.0: The 3d and the 4d.

There's the 3d and the 4d. The 3d is your physical world/external world. The 4d is imagination. Imagination is creation. Manifestation happens in the 4d.

The 4d is the only thing you need to focus on. Nobody cares about the 3d. The 4d is where everything happens, and then it shows up in the 3d. Therefore, circumstances do not matter.

Also time does not apply in the 4d so do not wait for your desires. It is already yours.

3.1: The conscious mind and the subconscious mind.

This is my personal take on the conscious mind and the subconscious mind.

The conscious mind is the main part of your brain. It has rules and uses logic as its main principle. You live in xyz country, with xyz people, you go to xyz school, whatever.

The subconscious mind is more hidden. It's sort of like a blank canvas. It's influenced by the conscious mind. Whatever you get it to believe will show up in your reality. Logic is not its main principle, so nothing is impossible or absurd.

You do not need to convince the subconscious mind to manifest, but it can be helpful.

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I hope I could be of help! Much love.

"Imagination is everything. It is the preview of life's coming attractions." - Albert Einstein.

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[the-tartan-spartan]

OOC POST

Here's a little behind the scenes so you guys have a better idea of what's going down! One shot below the cut, enjoy!!

Blu Demoman x Blu engineer

_________

Caz took a deep breath as he knocked on the workshop, the sounds of machinery stopped abruptly and he heard shuffling.

"Who is it?"

Dallas' voice rang through the workshop door and Caz regretted he hadn't drank this morning. He wasn't sure he could do this without some liquid courage. "Jus' me lad. I'm sober as a judge, I promise ye." Caz responded and the door opened slightly, Dallas standing in the doorway looking wary. "What do you want, Caz?" He asked, looking at the Scotsman and then behind him to the empty hallway.

"I jus' wanna talk. I promise I'm not drunk." Caz assured, but Dallas hadn't stepped aside. "An' talk about what, exactly? That you're sorry, for outing me to the whole fuckin' world? That you're sorry my own family disowned me cuz' of your big mouth? That you're sorry-" "I was scared," he interrupted, his voice strained.

"It donnae excuse me poor actions or the fact that I jus' dinnae think about how ye feel- I was selfish an' scared an' I took it out on ye." Caz admitted, and Dallas had gone quiet, looking away and crossing his arms. "An' I'm so sorry fer it. I cannae apologize enough for it." Caz continued and Dallas took a shaky breath.

"Why are you here, Caz?" He asked softly, still not meeting his eyes. "I... I need ta tell ye." But the words caught in his throat like sandpaper to concrete. "Tell me what?" He finally looked up, his face unreadable.

"I.."

I care for ye, lad.

Ye mean everythin' to me.

Please forgive me.

I cannae live without ye.

Ye mean more ta me than anythin'.

Ye are everythin' ta me.

I'm scared.

I don't know what to do.

I love you.

"I'm...sorry." Caz stuttered and Dallas frowned. "You already told me that, I get it, you're sorry for outing me, that's it. I don't want to talk about it. Go away, please." He started to close the door and Caz's panic spiked, reaching out and putting his foot between the door and frame. "Och, tha's nae what I meant! Let me explain-"

"There's nothing to explain, Caz. What more is there to say?"

"I loved ye since before ye ever looked twice my way, an' I'd be a doon right edjit tae ruin tha' over something I'm scared of." He blurted and the words hung heavy in the air. Dallas stared at him, his grip on the door loosening as the words processed. A deep sigh came from the shorter man as he knocked his head against the wooden frame a few times with a soft thump.

"Caz I....Cameron," he started and Caz's heart dropped to his stomach. "I don't know if I can just let go of all the shit you've put me through." Caz nodded, a lump forming in his throat as he felt a sharp sting in his nose, his tounge became thick in his throat, and his eyes burned.

He didn't know why, he really didn't, but the thought of losing Dallas, the one thing that was worth anything to him was just too much to bear. Still, he listened. "But lovin' you scared the shit out of me. And it fuckin' hurts. So much."

A tear rolled down Caz's cheek as his chest began to hurt. It felt like someone had reached into his chest and crushed his heart. "Dal-" "Please, leave me alone, Cameron. Please. I can't do this right now. Not with you." Dallas had his eyes closed and Caz nodded, moving his foot as the door clicked shut. He just stared at the wood, his mind reeling.

Caz was quiet, and he could see Dallas' face screw up in the attempt to hold back his tears. He always was a bit of a crybaby, that tended to be that way with Mama's boys. "I'm tired. I'm tired of hurting. I'm tired of hiding, I'm tired of pretending." Dallas's voice cracked, and he was full on crying now, trying and failing to hide his sobs.

"An' you of of all people should know how that feels, Cameron."

Caz stood there, trying to calm his racing heart, the words replaying in his head, and he was left feeling lost, numb. Like he was walking in a haze. He turned, not entirely sure where he was going, and started down the hall.

[just-here-for-the-moment]

Short story workshop! ✍️✍️✍️ August 2024

Y'all, I am interested in hosting a short story workshop to share my knowledge and my passion for writing and to help other writers who are seeking a place to connect with fellow writers.

However, I am so tired of seeing workshops that cost $200+ for just a few hours! If you're interested in attending a low-cost writing workshop, please read more below the cut...

I'm going to host video-call short story workshops at the very low cost of pay what you can! My suggested donation is around $30.00, but if cost is any kind of an issue, please put a note in the Google form and we can work something out!

8/9/24 Update: Our first workshop will be Sunday, August 11 at 3 p.m. Central US/4 p.m. Eastern US

There are additional times and dates on the Google signup form. Please let me know if you don't see something that works for you. (And rest assured, I'll be adding some European/non-US times soon! Please message me if you're outside of North America and we'll get something set up!) Sign up here at the Google form

FAQs... Who the hell are you? Hi! I'm Claire, I'm very friendly and have been here on Tumblr writing adult fanfiction since 2021. In my first year on Tumblr, I wrote 216,860 words of short story fanfiction. That's a LOT! Fanfic led me to getting back into creative writing, which was a lifelong passion but had been dormant for almost twenty years. Rediscovering writing saved me from one of the deepest depressions I had ever experienced, and I'm so grateful to it and to the other writers I've met over the years for saving my sanity.

What do you know about writing, anyway? A ton! I'm a huge nerd, and when I have a passion for something, I research endlessly and deeply and am always learning something new. Since I started writing fanfic in 2021, I have taken 3 college courses in creative writing, self-published my first book, and I read non-fiction "books about writing" more than I read all other genres combined. (I really love writing!) I'm also "that friend" who knows the difference between affect/effect, vice/vise, they're/there/their, and other really nerdy grammar and spelling and punctuation rules, and I've beta-read for over a dozen other Tumblr authors over the years. After self-publishing in September of 2023, I found that I enjoyed the process so much that I decided to make it my vocation. In March of 2024 I opened a small business to provide self-publishing guidance and author services to other independent authors. I am currently working with my first client to edit and hone a manuscript and query letters for pitching to agents, and I'm also co-editing an anthology of original short stories from some of my favorite Tumblr writers that will debut in January 2025, published through my company.

Why so cheap? I don't have $250 lying around for a one-day writing workshop, and I'm guessing you don't, either.

You write a LOT of smut; do we also have to write "spicy" stories? Nope! Smut is not required - this is a general short story workshop to help you craft any kind of story your heart desires! I love writers and writing, and I'll be your cheerleader no matter what genre of short fiction calls to you and makes your fingers fly!

What do we get out of this? The workshop will consist of two parts. The first will be a 60-minute group video call (time/date TBD), where I will present the basics of short story form, function, and several prompts. Each participant can use one of the prompts, or bring a short story that you've already started. If you would like to get some feedback, I'll ask you to send me your short story draft within 10 days. Two weeks after the first call, I'll host another 60-minute group call, share some of the stories from the group, and provide workshop feedback and guidance to continue your writing! It is totally optional if you want to share your story with the group, but at the very least I hope to provide a welcoming space to talk about writing and to expand your knowledge - you might even make a new writer friend or two!

What if I'm shy/prefer to remain anonymous? I am more than happy to set up a 1:1 workshop with just me and you! Please indicate that on the signup form and we'll set up a time to chat.

Sign up here at the Google form and let's talk writing!

[writingquestionsanswered]

What to do best when sharing negative feedback with a fellow writer? I'm in a writing group. While workshopping ideas, I told someone I didn't like their one of their ideas. The idea affects little in the story, so I thought discussing it at length would turn my feedback into an unnecessary critique. That's why I briefly explained it's a matter of personal taste. They became really upset over it. Am I not understanding something here?

Feedback Isn't About Your Personal Preference

Generally speaking, it's understood that writing feedback can include both objective and subjective elements, however, it's important to understand the difference between subjective feedback that's likely to be shared by at least some other readers versus subjective feedback that is deeply personal to you.

So, let's say you're critiquing a romantasy that has a "one bed" scene, and you have a personal aversion to "one bed" scenes because they're done so often in romantasy, and the concept just doesn't appeal to you. This is subjective feedback that can benefit the writer because while there are many readers who love "one bed" scenes, there are other readers who do not, and being mindful of that can help them make sure they put a fresh spin on their "one bed" moment.

However, let's say there's a ball scene and the main character is wearing a purple gown, and you don't like purple. This is subjective feedback that isn't helpful to the writer in any way... it wouldn't make sense for them to change the gown color to appease your personal taste, because no matter what color they change it to, there will be readers who don't like that color. This type of feedback just feels like pointless nitpicking and is only going to upset people.

But... even when you have beneficial subjective feedback, it's important to frame it as just that by letting the writer know it's a personal preference and that you know other readers will react differently, but tell them why you feel it's important to be aware that you feel that way and some others may, too. In the case of the "one bed" scene example, it would be important for them to know you and others are tired of the "one bed" trope, so it might be a good idea for them to find a fresh spin to put on it to make it more interesting. It's actionable feedback, whereas "I don't personally like purple" is not.

I hope that helps!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

♦ Questions that violate my ask policies will be deleted! ♦ Please see my master list of top posts before asking ♦ Learn more about WQA here

[agirlandherkinks]

Control Variables: Part 1 (Hypno, Expansion)

[Ally's Notes: The hypno and expansion bits come in the next part, this ended up being way bigger than I expected so I split it up] [I'd describe as weird corporate science-experiment-soft-non-con with a fun latexy skinsuit involved :3]

"HINATA! Where the FUCK did you put the hydraulic pump?!?"

An indignant voice barged into your consciousness, waking you up.

You were... somewhere? You opened your eyes, but only blackness greeted you. Were you in bed? Some kind of weight was pulling down on your head, so you must be upright. A helmet? You felt so, so tired and relaxed and comfy, the kind of grogginess that comes from sleeping 11 hours in a row. A harried voice with a strong accent (Japan, maybe?) barked back, making you wince.

"Well maybe YOU shouldn't decide to rearrange the workshop half an hour before a subject intake Lucinda! I have a perfect organizational system, if you would just. Stop... messing with the natural order of things... please?"

The voice trailed off until it was almost inaudible, and you realized that your ears felt muffled by something. Maybe you had a headset on? But why would you go to sleep wearing one of those? You attempted to bring your hand up to feel what it was, but with a gasp of surprise, found that you were tied up. Panic began to pierce your sleep-addled mind as you struggled against your bonds, your two captors seemingly oblivious as they argued. Panting from exertion (and embarrassingly, slight arousal), you stopped and took stock of your situation.

You were being held upright, against some sort of cushioned plank. Cold metal cords snaked tightly around your wrists and ankles, holding you spreadeagled and helpless. You could feel the cool breeze of an air conditioner caress your chin, arms, and legs, bringing up goosebumps. Your torso was covered in a clingy material, maybe some kind of wet latex? Your throat felt ever so slightly constricted, as if a wide metal collar wrapped around it. And with a start of outrage and fear, you realized you could feel cold air brushing against your pussy, nipples, and the side of your waist. There were windows in those areas! Were you in some sort of sex dungeon?!? Desperation overrode your self-control as you began thrashing against your restraints, yelling out against the slim chance someone could hear.

"Oh shit, she's come out of it-" Lucinda yelped. "Hinata! Get your sorry ass to that computer, or I will fucking end your career when the yearly peer review comes round! Ok, ok. Ok. Actually. Hinata, this development may be to our advantage. Begin recording."

Silence reigned for a few seconds, then bright light filled your vision as someone pulled your headset off. Blinking in pain as your eyes adjusted, you began to take in the space around you. If it was a sex dungeon, it had to be the weirdest one you'd ever seen. Pipes, wrenches, bolts and wiring filled the space around you, half of them not even connected to the convoluted machinery that surrounded you. Swinging your head around revealed no exit door, but you took in a few important details. A tank of fluid with a few... hoses, attached? Some devices that looked an awful lot like sex toys sat on the table next to them. On the far side of the room a reedy, anxious-looking man stood furiously tapping at a terminal, looking half-swallowed by an oversized lab coat. And uncomfortably close to your face, an immaculately preened woman with golden-red hair, clinically dead eyes, and an inexplicable boob window in her own lab coat stood smiling. It was a wide smile, very toothy, obviously meant to be reassuring. It put you in mind of a shark.

"Oh my goodness dear, we didn't realize you had woken up!" Her voice was chirpy and sweet, completely at odds with the fire-breathing she displayed earlier. "I'm so sorry for the distress you must be feeling. You see, subjects here are normally kept unconscious for the full duration of testing."

"T-testing?" You stammered, mouth feeling dry.

"Oh, do you not remember coming here? Many subjects have the same experience when interviewed afterwards, so that shows your procedure is still going to plan." Was her smile even wider now? "My name is Lucinda, that... gentleman over there is Hinata, and this is an R&D lab of BrainBlender Industries."

"That freaky sex toy company?!" you blurted, feeling your cheeks flare with heat. You had volunteered to test sex products? With THIS company?!?

"Not just sex toys," Lucinda cheerfully replied, smile now threatening to escape the bounds of her face. She clearly knew about the wild rumors surrounding BrainBlender. "We also produce recreational gear, leisurewear, and technology at the absolute cutting-edge of communication, biology, and psychology. We employ the finest minds for our development teams, and are absolutely stringent in the safety protocols of our testing sessions. And do try to relax. I'm sure you at least remember how much you're being paid for this."

The protests bubbling in your throat died as a 5-digit figure flashed out of your memory. Who could turn that down?

"Exactly!" she crowed, reading the expression on your face.

"Hey, so uh, what was the t-test going to be?" You stammered with embarrassment as you asked the question, having looked down and seen how stiff your nipples really were in the open air. You did have to admit though, the strange one-piece you wore was quite fetching. The material was a shimmery rose-gold with rose-red highlights running along its seams. It clung to your waist, hips, and admittedly quite small breasts in a way that made you feel sexy even while spreadeagled in a lab. And the way those windows curved around your nipples, they seemed to form the outline of cute little hearts. If you still weren't so mortified at waking up in a corporate sex dungeon, you probably would have giggled.

"Sorry sweetie, but we're conducting blind trials here. We'll start getting you back under in a minute." The redhead's cooed, corporate smile now unsettlingly authentic in response to your discomfort. "You see, we have to test your body's response to stimuli under completely controlled conditions. Otherwise, your expectations might change the way you process the input you're going receive."

"And speaking of input..." Lucinda produced a small device from her pocket, briefly holding it up to the light for inspection. Some sort of key? She began to dictate, completely ignoring your apprehension as she brought it towards your neck. "Test B279, new variation Delta. Variables of initial subject lucidity and individuality now left uncontrolled, to explore the effects of pleasure and conditioning on subject psyche in greater detail." You tried to shy back, but she continued inexorably forward, dictating over the top of your protests. One hand held the collar of your suit, and she began to sliiide the device into an opening within it. "First element of the conversion process: Initiated."

"Wait no no no n-" Click.

You gasped in euphoria as near-orgasmic levels of pleasure began coursing through your body, pulsing outwards from your neck to the rest of your torso. Biting your lip and arching your back, you couldn't decide whether to moan, giggle, or cry. Every inch of skin that touched your outfit blazed with pleasure, as if it was making your whole torse just as sensitive as your G-spot. Your self-restraint began to crumble as you started instinctively humping and twisting in place. You desperately needed to touch yourself, but all you could do was slide your ass and back against the plank. It felt gooooood.

"As planned and... visibly evident, the inserted module is circulating dopamine and oxytocin throughout the membrane of the pleasure-suit. The hormones are then transferred into the subject via contact with the skin." Through half-lidded eyes, you saw Lucinda circle behind you. "What is interesting is that this process appears to be causing the subject's skin to act as a primary erogenous zone. Note the elicited moans whenever it makes contact with the support plank."

She moved back to your side, and you heard the sound of a rubber glove being stretched over a hand. "Hypothesis 1: Sexual sensitivity increases exponentially with the skin's proximity to the suit." A firm hand gripped your ankle, and you whined in frustration as the plank moved away, leaving you held in the air. "Observe how the subject seems to attain no relief from contact with skin in its extremities. But here..." The hand crept up to your shin, and you shivered. "Subject's reaction is in line with a typical response to contact with the inner thigh. And speaking of-" Lucinda's musings were cut off by your moan as she squeezed your thigh. "Similar response to a tug of the nipple in an average female-" She cut off with a yelp as your hips unconsciously ground against her face. The brief contact made you moan even harder, feeling like someone had turned up a vibrator inside of you. "Subject rapidly losing composure, on the verge of a first orgasm. Two more samples required." And without warning, she slapped your ass.

Your vision went white as you screamed in pleasure. You didn't care about being recorded, or watched. You were in heaven and needed more. Warm fluid ran down your thighs, pussy leaking as you approached climax. You wanted them to do things to you, needed them to do things to you. Bucking blindly, you screamed for them to keep going, to use you.

"Okkkk, subject exhibiting drastically altered behaviour and desires in response to artificial hormone circulation. Compliance is reinforced by pleasure and dopamine. Device will replace dopamine with serotonin and melatonin soon, so I am taking the final sample before subject loses consciousness." A hand grasped your exposed waist, holding you still and sending waves of euphoria through your shaking body. You felt your insides tighten. Keep going so close so close so so so so so so s-

"Beginning vaginal stimulation."

A finger entered your pussy, and ever so gently prodded your clitoris.

With a wild shriek you snapped your head back and came. And came. And kept cumming. It felt like ten orgasms at once, all stacking and intensifying on top of each other. You squirted and squirted and sprayed, soaking your legs and the floor and an indignant Lucinda in your messy cum as you writhed and convulsed in the air. It was better than anything you had ever felt before. You didn't want to stop. You couldn't stop. You... you... couldn't stop...

So tired...

A beep sounded from the device in your collar, and darkness claimed you even as your body continued to twist in climax.

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

PART 2: COMING SOONISH TY FOR UR PATIENCE <333

[otomiyaa]

Day 28: Silence

Ember x Wade

[Miya & Mia’s Tickletober 2023] - Aaaaw I need to rewatch this movie.

Word Count: 800

Silence. Work in progress.

The simple and clear words on a sign turned Ember’s little crafting corner from a workshop into a school or library, but it was necessary. Not that it really worked. 

Ember adored Wade. She wasn’t shy about it. He was cute, sensitive, caring, and funny. But even then, there were times when she wished he could just be silent. 

"Wade, it isn't working," Ember said, interrupting Wade's monologue about how unfair it was that WindBreakers lost at yesterday's game.

Wade jumped to her aid, quite adorably. "What, what?! What isn't working?" he asked, genuinely in panic that Ember might be finding trouble with her work. Ember chuckled and shook her head. She pointed at the silence sign.

"The sign. You said you'd be silent if I put up a sign. Please let me concentrate for just a little bit. An hour, could you do that?" Ember asked. Wade stared at the sign and smiled in realization.

"Ooo. Yeah, yes or course!" 

Ember rolled her eyes fondly when Wade went to entertain himself again for a while. The silence sign was actually his own idea. He knew he had a hard time keeping quiet, and he felt bad for it. He already offered to go outside everytime Ember wanted to work, but Ember was against it. They lived here together after all. So Wade suggested Ember should then put up a sign to remind him to stay silent, so she wouldn't need to feel bad and tell him to shut up all the time, and Ember agreed with the idea. Only… it wasn't really working.

Even after literally just telling him and Wade agreeing to it, it didn't last longer than five minutes. It started with Wade humming and singing.

"Oh, this song. It's in my head since morning. Where did I hear it? Do you know this melody?" 

Ember snorted and slowly got up. She walked towards him.

"Yes, you know it?" Wade asked, and he sang again. Ember shrugged.

"I'm not sure. But I do know another song. A really good song."

"Yeah? What is it?"

"The Silence song!" Ember pounced on him suddenly, pinning him down on their cheap comfy sofa. To think that years ago she would be afraid of touching Wade, thinking fire and water would simply hurt or damage each other. By now she had learned how compatible they were. How pleasantly Wade's body would sizzle and bubble if they touched, and also, how sensitive he was. To tickling. 

"Ehehehehember whaaha! What ahahare you- hehehe!

Ember chuckled at his loud and sweet laughter and tried to keep her expression strict and smug.

"You told me to help you of the silence rule. So maybe the silence song will help you, instead of the sign," Ember improvised. Sounded like bull, but it worked.

"Whhahat sohohong?"

"This - you're singing it. A little more of this, and you might be more motivated to stay quiet don't you think?"

"Ohohoh!" Wade laughed. "I gehehehet it! Whahahah!" Ember sighed like the lovesick fool she was. Wade was just too cute and - oh. Tears, already. Wade always cried so soon from laughing. The first time Ember had been very surprised, but Wade had reassured her that this was his natural reaction to hysterical laughter and it was completely fine. So even when Wade was crying huge tears right now, she continued to tickle him and make him laugh.

During the tickling she also realized, this was who Wade was. A cute, loud and giggly crybaby who could not stay quiet, and it was Ember's very own choice to move in with him. So, she made up her mind during the tickling. She wasn't going to ask him for silence anymore. This was also where she needed to adjust, and either choose more convenient times to work, or learn to concentrate with Wade's endless chatter in the background. She stopped tickling him and watched his huge smile as he glanced up at her.

"I t-think I... think I.... cahahan't stahahay silehehent," Wade admitted adorably through soft and tired giggles. Ember smiled and leaned in to kiss his lips.

"I know. It's fine." She plopped down beside him and they snuggled together. "I can continue work later." 

Wade wrapped his arms around her and cuddled. Ah, and now he was silent. Now that they lay in each other's arms, snuggling comfortably and warmly. Ember smiled. It didn't last for longer than two minutes though.

"Hey," Wade said.

"Hmm?" Ember hummed.

"This silence song. I think it worked..." Wade said. Ember nodded.

"A little, hm?" she giggled. 

"Can we try it in duet form, next time?" Wade asked. Ember nodded again, but then froze and frowned.

"Wait- what do you meHEHEhhehean Wahahahade waaahh!" Ember cried when all of a sudden, Wade started to tickle her. She shrieked and squirmed, but he pinned her down and reminded her of the actual strength of water.

"Wahahaade nohoho aaahhaahah!" Ember howled. 

"Such a lovely singing voice!" Wade encouraged, and for the next couple of minutes, there was anything but silence. Just them making 'music' with their endless laughter and having fun.

[gortash-did-nothing-wrong]

Enver Gortash Musings 7

Warnings: a somewhat sad conversation between Enver and his wife less than a year into their arranged marriage.

When you first married Enver Gortash, you were only shown the same side of him the public saw. The man who dined with high society, treating guests to his private chef and full table. The man who used his utensils delicately and properly, like a born and raised gentleman. The man who had impeccable table manners and restraint.

It wasn't until well over half a year into your marriage, when you had become pregnant, that Enver was around you a little more. You found the baby to be quite restless at night, and the sound of Enver's workshop seemed to calm your still growing child.

"This is soothing to them?" Enver asked, hammering somewhat gently at a bit of copper.

You sat on a chaise lounge that you had the servants bring into his workshop. Your hand rested on your ever swelling belly, "All I know is that all day your child has been kicking, fussing, rolling, acting like they're in a gods damned war, and the second I walk in here and am surrounded by the sounds of your anvil, they go still."

Enver stopped, putting his hammer down and smirking at you. "I've never heard you curse before, my darling wife."

The exhaustion of the day catching up with you, you close your eyes, taking a slightly trembling breath. "I've never been so tired in my life."

When you open your eyes again, Enver has come to sit with you on the chaise. His hands encircle your baby bump, rubbing and soothing the tight skin. "Tell me."

"I can't sleep." You admit tearfully. "They keep me awake with their moving. It honestly feels like they're trying to run sometimes! Just so much movement I feel I may tear open at times."

Enver nodded, stroking your belly and smiling sympathetically. "And?"

"And my shoes don't fit." You cry, wiping your face. "none of my shoes fit! Not even the ones I had made last month. All I can wear are slippers and those still hurt my feet! My mother wore heels and a corset for every pregnancy, I don't understand what I'm doing wrong!"

He reaches his hand up, petting your hair while smiling sweetly. "All babies are not the same, this I'm sure you already know, my darling. Even still, I can have the doctor check your progress in the morning? If you truly feel there's something wrong."

You hesitated, "Nothing wrong with a check up I suppose..."

Enver puts his hands on your waist, massaging gently. "There we go, that's my girl."

You couldn't help the smile that he pulled from you. Your husband was a distant man in most regards, never really letting you into his more complex affairs nor opening up about his past. As far as noble husbands went, Enver was definitely one of the better to have. He wasn't gambling away your fortune, or squandering your dowry. He saw you almost every day, and was interested in your life. And if he was having affairs, which you doubted his schedule allowed for, word never reached your ears. So if he was having affairs, he was being discreet about it. Which is more than most noblemen did. Your friends could recall their husband's mistresses by name.

For all of his faults, he wasn't shy about telling you that he found you beautiful. Sometimes the lines felt a bit practiced, like he had rehearsed them... Or used them on someone else. But simple little bits of praise that he effortlessly slipped into conversation felt genuine.

You moved on the chaise, sitting up and holding his hands. "I... Enver, are you happy?"

Enver stared down at you, a puzzled look on his face that quickly gave away to a smirk. "Is this one of those feminine verbal traps?"

"No." You said quickly. "I'm just asking, and I'd like total honesty, please."

Enver's smirk vanishes. "What brought this on?"

"Enver, please?"

He sighs, moving his hands to rub your back. "I'm quite happy with you and what you bring to my life. There. Does that satisfy you?"

"Partially." You said softly.

He huffed, "Oh? Not quite done?"

You chuckled, "I believe you're content with me. I do. I'm asking whether or not you're happy with everything. With your whole life right now."

Enver stares down at you. "You are aware that if I am not happy, there's nothing you can do to fix that? Correct?"

You frown, the fact making you quite upset.

Enver sighs. "And you don't like that. Why bother yourself with it? Do I not give you enough to keep you content?"

You put a hand on his chest, "No, no, you do! I'm very content, I'm boundlessly happy- except the crying earlier, just ignore that bit!"

You see him pinch his lips together to keep from laughing, but you ignore it. "It's just... If I was unhappy, and I came to you to tell you that I was unhappy, you'd fix whatever was upsetting me."

"I would." He agrees.

"But if you were unhappy... I don't think you'd ever tell me?" You guessed.

Enver's gaze softens. "You want me to tell you? Do you want me to debrief you whenever the council drones on and on for hours about property taxes? Or argue about import and export tariffs? Or perhaps you'd like me to go over the blueprints of my latest design and get your input on the schematics?"

You shrank back from him a bit. "Don't mock me."

Enver takes a deep breath, before situating himself on the chaise and gently guiding you into his lap. "My darling wife, your role in this marriage is very specific. We discussed this before our wedding in dept. Other than you providing me with an heir, that I am extremely grateful for, your duties are relegated to keeping up my relations with the nobles at court through their wives. You're to head charity events that I haven't the time for. You informed me that you'll be the primary caretaker of our children, to which I have acquiesced quite quickly. No wet nurses, as you demanded. Minimal nursing staff, as you demanded. Despite my reservations that this will exhaust you." He said. His voice was firm, yet patient. A voice one might use on a child but without any condescension. A nearly loving tone that was meant to prevent her feelings from being hurt.

"... I just..." You felt more tears spring to your eyes, the words for your feelings having vanished. "I adore you."

Enver leaned down, pressing his lips to your own in a firm and reassuring kiss. "I am fond of you. Perhaps in time, that fondness will grow stronger. I cannot say. Regardless, you will always be my wife and the mother of my child. Respect as such will always be given to you."

You leaned your head on his chest, listening to the strong pulse of his heart beneath his ribs. "Alright... Is... Is it alright if I want to love you, though?"

Enver rubs your back, reassuringly. "I'd be flattered, my darling."