#yes I'm just filling my queue

[capricorn-0mnikorn]

Since it's December, and it's almost impossible to escape it, anyway...

[mythvoiced]

OPEN STARTER | Patrick Finch

"I condone lying. I encourage it, even. I recommend it. I could hardly live without it."

[sysig]

I'm almost finished with this notebook with it's horrible paper, and I just finished the first page of my Big Project

[burygods]

me writing a meme that involves two women at any given time : they're besties now

[reiderwriter]

Unfair We're Not Somewhere

Chapter Eight of I Can't Help Myself

Summary: With a little bit of help from someone who could relate a little bit too closely to your situation, Y/N tries to come clean. Tries.

Warnings: Mentions of pregnancy symptoms/ general pregnancy things, unsub mentions, plot.

A/N: Chapter Eight! I'm so excited for where the rest of this series is going to go, though I do feel like people are going to be a bit annoyed by this one lmao. Let me know your thoughts in the comments below or in an ask! Don't be too mad...

Masterlist || Add yourself to the tag list

You sat quietly in the clinic as you waited for the pharmacist to fill your prescription - a simple pregnancy multivitamin that was supposed to help your food go down, make your hair shinier, and fix all your problems.

You wondered if the bottle could tell Spencer you were pregnant. You wondered if it could make him magically okay with that and prepare him for fatherhood, too. 

Your phone buzzed, and you surfaced from the field of thoughts you'd been lost in as you checked it. 

“Outside,” an unknown number had sent. You took that as your queue, stood up, and left the clinic, trying your best to avoid looking back at the small boy Spencer had been playing with. 

You weren't sure if you were going to have a boy or a girl yet. You didn't mind either, though you'd always envisioned yourself with a big enough family that you assumed at least one of each was inevitable. Though even you had to admit how stereotypically nuclear that was, and how only 18% of the country was living that was lying anyway. 

You shoved psychology from your head for a few minutes and let yourself breathe.

“Y/N!” JJ signalled from the driver's side of her still running SUV. She waved slightly, and you smiled politely as you quickly paced around to the side of her vehicle and got in. 

“Hi,” you said, unsure if you should introduce yourself or not. She'd been in the office the day you'd been taken into custody (protection), but you still had yet to speak to her. She'd been exempt from protective duty so far due to her status as a senior field agent and the fact that she had two kids and a husband at home waiting for her. 

You were sad she was the anomaly in the BAU, the only one with someone waiting on her. 

“I'm Y/N,” you said, still unsure if you should hold out a hand or not. You hadn't made the best impression on most of Spencer's colleagues, and while you didn't think there was much point in trying, you still couldn't bring yourself to be intentionally blasé. 

“I know, you're all we've been talking about for weeks,” the woman laughed, pulling out of the clinic car park and smiling at you. 

“Oh, right. Case. Of course, I've heard you probably know more about me than I know about myself.” 

“We have a profile, sure, but that's not what I meant.” 

You nodded awkwardly and stared out the window for a second, the sky darkening slightly as it prepared to rain. 

You drove for a few minutes before JJ spoke up again. 

“I don't know if Emily told you, but it's actually my day off today,” she said, turning off into a cul-de-sac you'd never seen before. 

“Oh, oh my god, I'm so sorry. I could've just got a taxi or something or just… gotten over myself. You didn't have to-” 

“Yes, I did,” she looked at you for a second, cocking her head to the side in a gesture that said, ‘and you know why.’ It was a look only a friend would give, and you felt an instant connection with her. 

How had Spencer found so many wonderful, big-hearted women to surround himself with, and how could you get in on it? 

You supposed, by letting him get you pregnant, you'd probably found a cheat code for whatever the answer might have been. 

“Anyway, it's my day off, so I promised my boys a fun day at home with mommy. We're doing finger painting and macaroni art. I hope you don't mind getting messy.” 

“Wha-? Me? Oh. No, not at all,” you tried to seem nonchalant, but your heart suddenly beat faster now that you were faced with this unexpected opportunity. As a lecturer, you'd been surrounded by kids professionally for years now. 18 to 21 year old kids. The kind that already had defined morals, world views, and, secretly, alcohol tolerances. The last time you'd encountered any kind of child younger than 18 was when you yourself were under 18.

The joys of toiling away at a doctorate for the better half of your adult life. You knew how to talk to professors and scholars. You were absolutely scared shitless of interacting with a kid. 

“H-How old are they?” You asked, trying to sound polite but falling somewhere between anxious and terrified with a simple stutter. 

“Well, Henry is turning 8 in November, and Michael is just about 22 months. He's just about talking, which is as fun as you can expect.” 

Her voice was tired, but there was genuine affection there, love for her kids and pride. You wondered if your voice would change if you'd suddenly begin speaking like that, too, about something other than a paper submitted to a journal or a job opportunity. 

She pulled into a street parking space and turned off the engine as two bright haired little boys came bouncing up the path of their garden to greet her, stopping at the gate. 

“Mommy! Michael got glitter on the carpet, and Daddy said we shouldn't tell you.” 

“And you have no sense of loyalty when a pretty face comes around, do you?”

Hopping out of the car, you heard JJ's husband drawl as she greeted him with a kiss. She'd probably only taken half an hour to pick you up, but they were still greeting each other so warmly. For a second, you wondered what that would be like before you remembered throwing yourself into Spencer's arms the night before. Your face heated as you stood awkwardly at the side of the car, trying not to cradle your stomach as you watched the family interact. 

Would your baby ever get that tall? Would it have brown eyes like Spencer, or one's more similar to your own? His hair was curly. Maybe your baby would get hair that waved like his, too. 

After all, JJ's kids seemed like perfect compromises between her and her husband. Other people's kids didn't, though. You wondered a lot of things before JJ gestured you over again. 

“Henry, Michael, this is Aunt Y/N. She's going to do those crafts with us today - after we've locked away the glitter and thrown away the key.” 

You laughed as she wrapped an arm around your shoulder and pushed you forward into the chaos of two kids under ten. 

You were a little startled as the smaller one - Michael - grabbed your hand. He had a pacifier in his mouth, though he was probably outgrowing it, and he stared up at you with big, wide eyes, blinking and sizing you up as he toddled along beside you. 

Your heart grew three sizes, and you felt sorry for ever being afraid of interacting with the kids. 

JJ whispered to her husband quickly as you entered the LaMontagne household, and he greeted you quickly. 

“So you're Spencer's lady friend. It's nice to meet you. It's nice that you're real. Honestly, I was getting a little-” 

A look from JJ cut him off, though he did still seem a bit confused. 

“I'm sorry, am I under the wrong impression? JJ said you were pregnant with Spencer's baby, y'all aren't…” 

“Oh my god-” you whispered, suddenly panicking again but whispering just in case. You weren't sure if the pair was religious, and though you certainly weren't, it probably wasn't the best time to blaspheme. You needed as much god as existed in the world. 

“So, does everyone know?” You asked JJ, trying to keep your voice bright and calm, so Michael didn't take too much of an interest and grow frustrated by hushed tones. You knew enough about child development and psychology, it translated over, right? 

“Everyone who's observant. Luke noticed the pregnancy vitamins in your bag, Tara was talking about your mood swings in the office the other day. I guess you told Emily earlier, and I have two kids.” 

You nodded at the answer. 

“And Spencer?” 

“You haven't told him yet?” JJ asked, slightly surprised. 

“If I told him, you'd know.” 

“Well, you're right on that. He's not the most easy-going during pregnancy,” JJ laughed and steered you into the living space, where your de facto art studio had been set up for the day, along with the offending glitter bomb. 

“Really? You thought you could keep that a secret?” 

“Well, of anyone was going to find it, it was going to be my beautiful, smart, funny, profiler Wife,” Will said, giving her a small peck on the cheek as she rolled her eyes at him. “I'm clocking in now. Call me if you need anything.” 

You waved him off, and sat down with the kids. 

JJ started the craft and then planned your hasty escape as the two boys were enraptured by making the perfect macaroni necklace, dusting it in objectively too much glitter as they proudly created their art. 

In the kitchen, she handed you a mug, and you sipped it quietly as she began again. 

“So, you're not dating?” 

“Nope.”

“And he doesn't know you're pregnant?” 

“No.” You took another sip and shifted from one foot to the other. 

You knew what was coming next. It was what you'd gotten next from Emily, from Penelope, from yourself when you'd thought about it for longer than ten seconds. You needed to tell him. 

“Okay. What's your next move?” 

You were so shocked you almost splashed the hot tea over the mug you held, close to burning yourself as you turned to face her. 

“I… what?” 

“Well, what's your next move? You're what, five months along? You're not going to be able to hide it for much longer. And you have to think about maternity leave, your hospital stay, and names, and who's going to drive you to the hospital. And obviously, how you're going to pay the hospital fee, and then custody and child support.”

“Oh god…” 

“And you also have to sort your relationship out with Spencer. So where are you starting?” 

It wasn't a question that didn't have an answer. JJ was staring at you, waiting for one as you opened and closed your mouth, head suddenly so empty you almost forgot what you were talking about. 

“He doesn't like me,” you suddenly blurted and wished you hadn't, face crumpling as you physically cringed at your own words. 

“Y/N, he was telling us about your toothbrush yesterday. Part of the office has a theory that he made up this case as a reason to get closer to you.” 

Again, you felt the heat blossom on tour skin as you looked away, taking another sip. 

“We don't do anything but argue.” 

“You do at least one other thing,” JJ said, hands on her hips as she confronted you. 

“No, that doesn't count. We were still arguing while we were doing…that.” 

“TMI,” she groaned as you fanned yourself. “Y/N, I know for a fact that Spencer is at least half in love with you. If you're absolutely sure you don't feel the same way, you need to at least let him down easy.”

“I…. I don't know. He's infuriating sometimes, but then he's so smart and annoying. But he's pretty great at comforting me. And the, uh, the other stuff, that was good, too.” 

“Don't need to-” 

“Like really good. Like, I'm not surprised I ended up pregnant practically first time good-” 

“Back on topic, please!” JJ whisper shouted, throwing her hands up as you zipped your mouth shut.

“You like him,” she said. 

You sighed and finally gave in. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I like him.” 

“Great. What next?” 

“Next, I tell him I'm pregnant and make him hate me for a while.” 

She patted you on the back and poised you another mug of tea before leading you back over to the kids and sitting beside them at the table. 

“We can plan something later. For now, macaroni art is calling.”

You weren't sure if it was the stern, practical pep-talk from JJ or the little tiny grasp of your hand from Michael. Maybe it was even Henry's goodbye of ‘see you soon, Auntie Y/N’ that had you suddenly invigorated, but you suddenly kicked yourself into gear. 

The pregnancy wasn't going to put itself on pause while you worked up the courage to tell Spencer about it. You had to do it. 

JJ dropped you off at home at 6 p.m., knowing that Spencer would be back at the apartment shortly. 

“You're sure you don't need me to stay up there with you? The commute can get a bit long this time of night, Spencer could be anywhere between 15 and 45 minutes.”

“No, I think… I think I need some time to think about how I'm going to do this. I need some alone time.”

She nodded quietly and sent you off after calling Spencer and giving him an update on your whereabouts. 

You paced the apartment wondering what the best option was. 

You could go for the bookshelf again, though it was still organised into your first message. You'd not moved a book in that stack at all, and surprisingly, neither had Spencer. 

Running into your room, you grabbed the pair of baby shoes you'd thrown into your bag from your apartment. Maybe if you left them on the shelf next to the books…? 

You put them there and frowned, wondering if he'd be able to see them from the door when he walked in. He was so used to the surroundings of his house that he really didn't check for irregularities. 

You moved them to the coffee table. Then you wondered if you should just hand them to him when he walked in. 

“Spencer. I am..pregnant,” you practised, looking into the bathroom mirror as you tried to force a smile. 

“Spencer. We're pregnant. No, not a chance,” you sighed. 

“Spencer, I have a parasite growing in me. I've had it for five months now, and then I'll have it for another four and hopefully a long time after that as well.” 

That one was mostly a joke. Mostly. 

“Spencer, I… We're going to have a baby.” You looked down at your bump again and decided that was probably your best option. It wasn't a state. It wasn't a condition or a parasite. It was a baby. 

You rubbed your stomach again and looked up, wiping away tears from the corner of your eye as you composed yourself again. 

The doorbell rang, and your heart race picked up. It was time. Spencer was home, and you were going to tell him. 

Suddenly, you were filled with excitement, with happiness. You ran to the door, stepping on the sofa to get there quicker as you ran to pull it open. 

Maybe it was the pregnancy brain fog, but you forgot where you were. 

Spencer Reid lived in this apartment. He didn't need to knock on the door or ring the doorbell. He'd never done it before. But you'd already swung the door open quickly, and you were so relaxed and ready for it to be him that when a hand extended and covered your mouth with a cloth, thick with a scent that had your body protesting, you could do nothing but crumple to the floor with your hands cradling yourself, protecting the life growing within you. 

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[auroracalisto]

secrets and scars

movie!fiyero x gn!reader, 847 words summary: the reader has been scarred for some time now. fiyero discovers them and does something rather... unexpected. a/n: idk what this is. but like... yeah. hope it makes sense. i was gonna queue this and save it for later but i’m gonna go ahead and post it. i have a few queued posts for jonathan bailey characters in the coming weeks so. i’ll try to feed you all for the holidays. ��� tw: reader has scars? no direct mention of where they are but it could be triggering. slight reference to sexual content, reader is naked for a hot minute but nothing graphic happens. you'll understand when you read.

Scars. They littered your body, an unfortunate reminder of the past you barely escaped. It was as if your body didn't want you to forget.

You wished you could.

You're lost in your thoughts in one of the many archways of Shiz University, staring out at the blue sky above. Your fingers itch to touch your scars—to scratch, to peel them away. You didn't want the reminder of who you once were. You didn't want the reminder of what once happened to you.

In all of Oz, you'd give anything to be able to erase your scars.

Anything.

It's a flurry of a night—confusing all around, and then somehow, Fiyero ends up in your dorm, kissing you, touching you, and by the love of Oz, how is he so quick with your clothing?

But before you can stop him, panic-stricken, he sees them. Your scars.

He's silent, wide eyed as he looked at them, lips parted as his eyes flicker from each mark on your skin.

He licked his lips a bit nervously, glancing up at you.

"You—are—" he stopped himself, seeing the panicked look on your face. "Oh, Y/n," he breathed out, moving to sit beside of you on your bed. He gently pressed a hand to the side of your face. "I'm sorry. I should have asked."

You slowly shook your head. "No. No, it's okay, I just—just didn't expect you to move so quickly. You, uh—"

"Surprised you, hm?" he softly asked. He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead before he found his voice once more. "I'm so sorry."

"Sorry? For what?"

He doesn't answer. Instead, his eyes fall to your scars, and you can tell he wants to ask you questions—how you got them, what happened, how long ago it happened.

Instead, he says something that takes you by surprise (because of course he did—Fiyero was filled with surprises, was he not?).

"They are beautiful."

"What?"

"Your scars."

You're silent for a moment. "My... my scars? Are beautiful?"

He smiled softly at you, taking ahold of your hand. He looked into your eyes. "Yes. Your scars are beautiful," he softly said. "I won't ask you about them. You can tell me when you decide you are ready, if you ever are."

Your eyes soften as you admire him from your spot on the bed. You feel so exposed—naked to the man not only physically but also emotionally. It was an odd feeling. A... welcomed feeling.

"May I touch them?" Fiyero softly asked.

"My scars?" you questioned for what seemed the hundreth time in the past few minutes.

"Yes. Your scars."

"You want to touch them?"

Fiyero looked at you, an incredulous look on his face. "Yes, Y/n. You can say no, it's quite alright. My feelings will not be hurt if you say no."

You watched him, swallowing nervously. "You... you're so odd," you softly said.

He snorted softly, a smile embracing his features. He leaned forward and kissed your cheek.

"Only for you."

You gave a small nod in return, and watched as he moved down the bed, focusing on the part of your body with your scars. His eyes flicker up to yours and he pressed a soft kiss to the puckered skin.

"Only for you," he repeated.

You feel flustered more than anything, looking away from him and his beautiful brown eyes.

How odd, indeed.

"I... I don't like them," you softly said.

"You do not like your scars?" he softly asked, a finger gently brushing against one of them. "Did something—"

"—I'll tell you. One day. Just..."

"Of course," he said. "I understand. But... Y/n, I meant what I said. They are beautiful."

You pursed your lips.

"They show how much strength you've had to survive, Y/n," he said, leaning forward and letting his lips connect with yours. "They're beautiful because they show me you've had to be brave. To be courageous in the face of such disaster. Your scars may be something you do not like, but do not wish them away."

You don't look at him, but you do not push him away.

"I do not know how you got them," he said, "and I am so sorry if what happened to you was... well, unsavory. But... they show such strength, Y/n."

"Strength is ridiculous and you know it," you muttered. You just want to rebuke his statement, as sweet as it may be.

He pecked your lips again.

"Perhaps that's not the best way to describe what it is, but I can't think of what would be better," he said. "This brain of mine doesn't want to work when the most beautiful person in all of Oz is letting me see their secrets."

Your heart pounded in your chest and you looked up at him, eyes softening.

"You are so odd," you repeated.

He snorted softly. "Yes. We've established this, Y/n. Thank you."

A smile quirked on your lips and you gently grabbed him by his shirt, pulling him in for another kiss.

"You're welcome."

[idcbabyialreadylostmymind]

L'appel du Vide

Pairing- Sully Family x Sully!Reader

Summary- You feel the urge to engage in destructive behaviors just to feel alive and your family wants to get to the bottom.

Pt.1 pt.2 pt.3

Warnings- self destructive thoughts/actions, getting slapped, biting someone's ear off, hateful thoughts, description of self harm, self harm, blood/bleeding, crying lmk if I missed something

A/N- did I cry writing the last part bc of my crippling mommy issues yes yes I did but we don't talk about it also tell me how it is 🤭🤭

It's like a call to a void, the adrenaline of putting yourself in danger. Like jumping off a cliff not knowing if your banshee is going to catch you, or slicing your hand with an open blade, or getting into a fight with someone ten times bigger than you. It made you feel real, made you feel alive. And if your not doing it your thinking of it. So why wouldn't you go with your siblings to the old battle field.

"Tuk keep up." Lo'ak said as you pushed a branch out of the way. "Why'd you bring her?" Spider asked and Lo'ak huffed. "She's always like 'I'm telling if you don't let me come you know your not supposed to go to the old battlefield " Lo'ak mocks your younger sibling only making Spider laugh and you roll your eyes at his childish tactics. Tuk pokes her tongue out at him and Kiri comes to her defense. "Don't pick on her." And finally you make it, you and Lo'ak crouch Kiri beside you. "Dad is going to ground you," she whispered to you, "shush can you stop." You reply and she only rolls her eyes. "For life."

behind some bushes you and Lo'ak look around there was all kind of rubble and metal on the ground you hit Lo'ak on the stomach to get his attention. "Let's look around." You say before immediately jumping back, Avatars. "Shit." You whisper Lo'ak looks at them his body freezes. "We have to tell dad." Kiri whispers. Lo'ak goes to touch the microphone on his neck. "Hey dad." Lo'ak whispers, your eyes were glued to the avatars.

"Lo'ak." You hear your father's gruff voice over the ear piece. "Yes we are at the old battle field and there are some Avatars we've never seen them." Silence, "Who is we." Was all your father said afterward you and Lo'ak share a look. "Me, Y/N, spider, Kiri and Tuk." He paused before he said Tuk and you could hear your father sigh. "Just stay safe, Lo'ak Lo'ak!"

Suddenly before you could think your queue was being pulled roughly making you wince in pain. You look around at the kidnappers around you. The avatars. "Show me your fingers." An older man said to Lo'ak and he flips him off and give a screechy hiss and you laugh loudly making Lo'ak chuckle. "Your his alright and you," he says turning around to you pointing a finger. "Your a cute little thing aren't ya' think that's funny?" He asked. You cringe at his statement. "I do actually." He smirks gripping your face. "We'll keep you." He said and all you did was hiss it was deeper and louder than the one Lo'ak previously did.

He gives you a hard slap and all you did was smile as you hear your mother's war call. The man's face fell, "I will kill you as many times as I have to demon." Was the last thing you heard before you saw your father and brother, Neteyam sweep in and get the avatars holding your siblings but they couldn't help you but you didn't need any. As your father held you sister in her arms you took this chance to kick the man holding you kick him in the knee he filps you around arms locking around you and before you knew it you opened your mouth clamping down on the first thing near you and it came off in your mouth the taste of iron on your tongue filling your mouth, the man screamed letting you fall to the ground. You jump up and spit the piece of skin in your mouth blood spilling from it as you spit. "She bit my ear off! The bitch bit my ear off!" He yelled you smiled as you pick a gun up that he had dropped and run off next to your dad.

It was hell after you got home. Your father yelled at you and Lo'ak about how irresponsible you two were and how stupid it was to attack the man holding you. But, this was the usual for you not taking anything to heart but you could see Lo'ak every heart breaking thing your father said to you two it stabbed him a hundred times over. And then your father put everyone of lock down and suddenly everything darkened around you, it felt like you were a dead person in someone you didn't know, like your family and friends weren't really your family and friends.

So there you are sitting at the back of your families home watching the sky, you had the razor blade you swiped from Norm in hand and all of those bad thoughts flew into you again. You griped the balde t as tears fell down your face, "Your not real." Your head thought. "Your nothing." The thoughts consumed you as the blade got closer and closer to your skin and it made contact you held it to the base of your palm. Your eyes clench closed as you held the blade hard and sliced all the way down, the throbbing pain was there and then you take the balde off of your palm and as the blood dropped from your hand, and a sense of comfort fell over you.

Your mother looked at your hand as she wrapped it up, "And you say you accidentally cut yourself when sharpening your dagger." She asked once again and you smile. "Yes I was being stupid I know." You laugh as she lets go of your hand. Before you asked your mother to wrap your hand your father gave you the news you had to leave, it hurt it really did you were leaving the only place you called home but you knew you had to stay strong for your siblings for your Mother.

When you finally made it to the Meykayina all of their eyes were on you and your family it was strange, unsettling. It only got worse the more you stayed there people made fun of you, of your siblings. And that feeling you knew all to well came back you had to cut, and everytime you had a quick explanation. Soon you had scars in various parts of your body, on your sides, inner and outer thighs, your calfs, you even had to wrap you hands up. And after an altercation with Lo'ak and the chiefs son they were forcing you and your siblings to hang out with him and his sister Tsireya. She was nice, sweet you sort of envied her but didn't show it. "Hey forest people." Ao'nung laughed and all you did was roll your eyes. "Hey fish boy." You reply opening your eyes and giving him a sarcastic smile.

He looks taken back but Kiri and Lo'ak burst into laughter as Neteyam hits your arm. "Let's get this day over with." He said getting the ilus saddled up. You stand up and head towards your ikran and they just look at you. "Forest girl where you going!?" Ao'nung yells and you turn around. "I'm going to ride Amhel." And then Neteyam huffed. "What is wrong Neteyam?" Tsireya asked as she lifted her leg over her ilu. "When she rides Amhel that means shes gonna do something stupid and then get in trouble for it." He shook his head as you jumped into her and connected taking off into the sky. It was a dangerous speed, but you didn't care. You did all kinds of things in the air the farther you got into sea. "Flip upside down." You thought and that's what she did. "She's not strapped in!" Tsireya yells watching you as you let your arms swing in the air. Neteyam watched he hates when you did this, but he couldn't stop you.

You made it to the island you land on the warm sand and hop off as the other five to make it to you. Kiri hit you upside the head. "Why are you so stupid always doing dangerous things." She scolded. "Ah and it's not dangerous it's fun have some." You joke rubbing the sore spot she made. "Fun? We rather keep our lives thank you." Neteyam chimed in and you only rolled your eyes. "If I wanted to get scolded I would have stayed with mom and dad..." Trailed off by seeing a huge rock. It was beautiful it started in the water where it has a teal ring, and it goes up as moss and leaves grow on it, it had to be at least fifty felt in the air. "Y/N don't." Neteyam spoke, to late.

You rode Amhel up to the rock and looked down you were sure to die if you jumped and no one caught you. "Perfect." You thought.

Meanwhile on the shore your older brother and sister sit down and put their face in there palms. "Told you, something stupid." Neteyam muttered to the group. Ao'nung had his transparent eyebrows furrowed as he looks between you and your brother. "What is she going to do?" He asked as you got of of Amhel. "Just watch it's so cool." Lo'ak said.

You disconnected you queue as you let the side of your head. "Remember catch me." You whisper to her and she only gives you a small chirp in response as she takes flight. She circles around the rock getting ready to catch her rider. You take one more look down stepping back a few steps you take a deep breath. Closing your eyes you run and jump. Falling through the air you could hear Tsireya yelling, "She's gonna die, she's not gonna catch her!!" This time your siblings got up and started yelling Neteyam jumped to his ilu ready to rush toward you and then everyone stopped as the heard you. "Why are you guys so serious." From behind them.

"Holy shit that was cool." Lo'ak laughed you got off of Amhel and walked to them sitting down in the sand letting the warm sun hit your skin. "I thought you were going to die." Tsireya said sitting down next to you. "Not today." You say smiling as you close your eyes.

"You did What!" You father yelled, you have Lo'ak a side eye, why did he have to be such a blabber mouth. "It wasn't anything serious me and Amhel used to do it all the time back home." You say putting your hand on your hip. "Okay we'll talk about that later but you jumped off a cliff that was over fifty feet in the air, what the fuck is wrong with you." Clenching your teeth, "Nothing is wrong with, I'm sorry I'm not an uptight asshole and like to have fun." You say suddenly feeling defensive as to why he asked what was wrong with you. "Don't curse at me and that's not fun you could have killed yourself." He yelled and you only rolled your eyes. "No more riding Amhel." He said and your face dropped. "What t-thats not fair." You protest before your father clicks his tongue. "Fine." Was all you said before storming up to your room of the pod.

It had been a little past eclipse and your shoulders felt heavy and that question ran through your mind over and over again, "What the fuck is wrong with you." Your father's words never stuck but this did. Your hands shaked you jumped out from under the hand-made blanket your mother gave you. You tiptoe over to your bag and rummage through it and you found it. You bit your lip as you looked at the blade. You sit on your cot and grabbed the blanket you were previously covering up with, putting it between your teeth you bit down, now you look at the blade and you press it onto your upper arm, pressing down hard you guide the blade down you sighed and bite the blanket because of the pain, but the more pressure you put into the cuts the more mental relief you felt. You dropped the blade and looked at your hand you held it so hard it cut through your fingers.

You let the blanket slip through your teeth and your breath was heavy and then you look up and your eyes were met with ones of your mother. You gasp. Flipping the blanket over your arm and hide the blade. Neytiri walks closer bottom lips shaking, "Show me." She demands and you only look away wiping the tears away from you face. "Show me." She says this time a little harsher. "Fine mom, you wanna see!" You say loudly getting up and the balde falls to the ground, you show her what you had just did, then you ripped the bandages you had on your thighs and then your hands. "Is this what you wanted to see." You say crying. Neytiri tilts her head as she falls to the ground. "My baby, my daughter my special girl." She cried out holding the blade throwing it across the room. "Mom don't cry." You say holding yourself looking from your mother's broken figure.

Neytiri was gasping through her tears, "Was it me was it Jake, did we do something, did we do something wrong I know we haven't been the best parents but I tried to protect you I-"

"No it's not you or dad it's me I'm fucked up, I'm fucked up but it's not you mom it's not you." You say falling to the ground next to her. She looks at you and holds your arms, going over every scar she helped heal and guilt fills her. You cry watching her reaction and then she brings you close, "It's okay my special baby, my sweet girl." She coos rocking you back and forth as your tears soak her chest. "I'm sorry mama I'm sorry."

"nothing to be sorry for my sweet." She said guiding you back to the bed holding you she pressed sweet loving kisses to your wrist. "Nothing wrong my sweet girl." She whispered holding you as she did when you were a child and your cries softened and your eyes began to get heavy for the first time you felt loved, you felt safe.

[idyllic-ghost]

hi! i'm leaving tumblr, and i wanted to put out an explanation post before i do.

i mainly write ff because it's a fun interaction with a fun community. recently it hasn't been so fun.

yes, i'm busy with work so i haven't had time - but even if i did have the time, i wouldn't reach to start writing like i used to. people always say this, but because of lack of interaction (i'm specifically referring to comments and/or reblogs) i've lost interest.

i have a few fics lined up for the next few months, they're all waiting in my queue to be posted once a month up until march. they were all written during the summer or earlier, i've just been putting off posting them. after that, i don't have more, and i'm not sure that there will be more.

i have a lot to say, and i'm not expecting anyone to read it, but if you want to know why i'm leaving then this is it.

(if you've been tagged in this and wonder why, but don't want to read further: don't worry! i didn't tag anyone intentionally, i took from my moots and my taglist to spread the word that i'm leaving this blog. you haven't done anything wrong, and i'm not expecting you specifically to read the rest of this!)

the only reason i stayed on here was because i loved seeing people interact with my writing, it made me happy to see that people enjoy my writing. nowadays, i basically get nothing. since i'm not doing this for anyone but myself, i'm not going to continue doing something that ends with me being disappointed and envious.

my writing feels lifeless to me because i'm not actually interested in what i'm doing anymore. i write, get it done, send it out, and hope that at least someone will tell me that they like it. it feels pathetic to write out, but i feel like some people may agree. the only times i ended up getting that kind of interaction was when i wrote smut.

i was never a smut writer, it wasn't something i was extremely comfortable with. i think there are a lot of people who do it very well, and that's good for them. i'm just not one of them. after being put in sexual situations in my personal life that i, in hindsight, did not feel comfortable with and deeply regret, i don't see myself being comfortable with writing smut again. (the posts with nsfw content that come out in the next few months were written before i came to this realization, for context.)

it's weird and embarrassing when you feel like you'd never fall for pressure of norms and then suddenly you do! i look back at this blog and it doesn't feel like me, and now i get it. it's not wrong or upsetting, just a change of perspectives.

i think it's great that people can write smut and share it on here, and i don't want anyone to think that i am against it. i have simply come to the point where it makes me uncomfortable, so i'm taking myself out of those kinds of situations (as anyone should do if they feel the same way, do not harass people who write smut simply because of its nsfw content that you're personally uncomfortable with). if i do return to writing in this way, in this forum and genre, again, i know that i won't be writing smut.

all of this to say, i'm not going to be on here anymore. i might read a few things here and there, because i do still really love reading fluff from the amazing fluff writers out there, but i won't post. maybe i'll create a new blog for reblogging fluff fics or something. i've lost interest and that's that. i'm hoping that i can write my own book some day, and if i do i've only managed to do so because i got to practice writing on here.

this was fun while it lasted, and i definitely don't regret making this blog. so, thank you to everyone who supported this blog, i've loved reading your comments. thank you to the people who have helped me in my writing, i hope that you know who you are.

tumblr is filled with blank blogs and people who won't comment on fics they actually like. if you ended up reading all of this, i encourage you to go comment on a writer's fic with some nice words. it's always appreciated, i promise.

that's all!

-

tagging a few people so that this post is actually seen:

@enhacolor, @shuabby1994, @junhui-recs, @dkakapizzaboy, @just-here-to-read-01, @loviehan,

@userjunhuii, @novalpha, @bubblymoon, @aaniag, @d0nghyuck,

@fantasy2wonderland, @k-fic-collection @seunghancore, @woozixo, @niktwazny303,

@lllucere, @uniq-tastic, @wonwoospartyhat, @svthub @stariightjoyy,

@hyneyedfiz, @cali-snow, @crazywittysassy, @yeosayang, @wonuvs,

@dokyeomkyeom, @kyeomiis, @gyuguys, @notevenheretbh1 @iamawkwardandshy,

@wonuskie @kvanity-main

[neteyamyawne]

OKAY WAIT- Submissive Ao'nung begging to make Tsaheylu while you overstimulate him into a needy lil brat??? "Y-yawne-" - "Shhh~"

(Yes, Im just as awkward-----^)

Umm lemme just- ✋🏼

Y'all are getting fed cuz ohh boy am i ovulating 😭

You're not awkward, SEND IN MORE!!

For @neteyamswillow, my current bbg, Ily!!

Smut under the cut mdni!!!!

He whimpered as he reached your waist to pull you off his overly sensitive pulsating cock, your wet folds sinking down on him with another breathy moan Tumbling from your lips.

His attempts were good for nothing as fat tears rolled down his flushed teal cheeks, your hands on his chest, chasing your upteenth orgasm as he begged to go slow, fucking him low and slow, drawling out the climax as much as you can, making him suffer in immense pleasure.

He looked up at you with teary eyes, mouth agape as he panted heavily leaning against the palm tree, the bark digging into his back but he didn't care, all his attention was on the way your pussy swallowed his cock like a snug glove designed for him, but the overwhelming sensation was making him go CRAZY as he watched your hips roll over his, your lewd moans were music to his ears, the jiggle and bounce of your tits were just enough to make him loose himself in you.

His tail thrashed like a wild cat, biting down on his lip to stop himself from moaning out loud, your Siren eyes knew everything, your submissive little plaything loved it when you-

"what happened, big boy? Go on, scream out my name, say my name, let them know who you belong to"

You crooned in his neck as he moaned, his grip on your waist tightened as he felt himself getting closer to another nerve-wracking orgasm "um'ma please- please go slow, yawne, fuck!-"

he groaned loudly as goosebumps spread through your body when he came and painted your red walls white, thick ropes of cum coating your pussy, not long before you came after him, gushing over his twitching cock still buried deep inside you.

You laid on top of him, both of you a panting plie of mess as his breath staggered, your face in his neck, planting soft kisses on the smooth skin of his chest and neck, sucking playfully time to time, his hands roaming on your back and hair.

He whimpered softly holding your hand softly and brought his braid forward for you to see, the pink tendrils of his queue dancing together "y- yawne- pha- please" begging you desperately but be was cut off by your kiss on his lips, silencing him into oblivion as his lips moved against yours, pulling you closer.

"shh shh~ I know I know" you whispered, your breath fanning over his lips, resting your forehead on his as you brought your kuru over and connected them, both of your gasps filled the air around you, your minds intertwined together on a level above a physical understanding.

"Ole nagti kameie" he whispered, tail wagging behind, forehead to forehead, nose to nose as he smiled softly.

"Ole nagti kameie"

I'm obsessed!! Send me more please 😭😭😭😭 i wanna write more, lmao I've completed half of my Kinkmas 😮‍💨

Tags (because why not?) - @taylormarieee, @deadgirlrin, @avatarsslut, @nattomat, @neteyamsoare, @bobthe-trumpetman29, @eywxveng, @fanboyluvr, @callmeoncette, @lu-the-ghost-reader, @brisbriskett, @saltedcoffeescotch, @ducks118, @jackiehollanderr, @elriel-4-ever, @zoetrope1997, @yeosxxx, @persefolli, @im-in-a-pansexual-panik, @elijangwifey, @erosthefae, @murderbirbdany, @thearabloak06, @killua2dot0, @ilovechickenwings, @kylobensgirl, @darling-imobsessed, @majathepapaya, @sweetirilly .

[pookietv]

a secret | arthurtv

a request!! fluffy arthurtv having a crush on a singer that arthur hill knows!!

you weren't really sure how the last few months had played out: you had gone from a tiny artist doing covers and the occasional original song on your smaller youtube channel, to being thrust into a welcoming community with a viral video.

it was surreal, you thought, and you were convinced the support and exposure you had experienced couldn't get any better, you had been able to quit your job, and do what you loved.

that is, until you received an email, inviting you to be an opening act on a tour for arthur hill at his london shows. you had seen him on tiktok, heard some of his songs and seen some of his youtube videos, and he did look cool.

so it was an easy yes, you already lived in london, you wouldn't need to travel, the only thing you needed to do was get used to performing on stage.

so you began doing small shows in dive bars, mainly on friday nights filled with drunk people who paid little attention anyways, so you could mess up all you liked, so it became routine.

performing as normal, in the abnormally warm room, the lights slightly pinkish in the cramped bar, it was unusual to hear your name from the crowd, so when you heard a slight gasp and a "wait, you're right, it is y/n," your head did turn slightly, but with the large crowd talking between eachother, drinks in everyones hands in a sea of people, you couldn't make out anyone in particular.

once you had come off the make-shift stage area, placing your guitar neatly in it's case, you felt a slight tap on your shoulder, turning your head to be met by arthur, a smile on his face.

"y/n! didn't know you came here," he said happily, looking at you expectantly.

"oh! hi arthur, yeah, just trying to get used to performing more, so i do a couple shows a week, what about you, what are you up to?" you said nicely, giving him a small smile in return, looking around the room slightly.

"oh, i'm just here with some of my friends, it's kinda close to our apartments so we figured we'd come just to see what it was like," he paused, turning around to point to three boys stood near the bar, "come over, i'll introduce you, they'll no doubt be at the show so you'll probably see them there too," he nodded over to them, and you followed him, with him chatting away about how excited for the show he was.

"so this is y/n! this is george, chris, and arthur, two of us so a little confusing," arthur hill grinned a little as he pointed to each one in succession.

"it's nice to meet you all! i've seen you a little in videos," you smiled towards them, looking slightly at the other arthur, who was timidly holding a pint of beer and looking at me with a mildly awkward smile.

"its nice to meet you in person! i feel like your songs are always playing in our flat between the two arthurs, it's all they bloody queue," chris smiled, and you giggled a little.

you shrugged with a small grin, "well, i am sorry if you're a little sick of my voice then," you joked, and george shrugged it off with a casual, "no, no, it sounds good!"

"i think arthur got me into your music more than anyone else," arthur hill said nonchalantly.

"oh?" you turned my head towards the other arthur, curiously, looking at him for a moment, and observing how nicely the shade of green of his jumper looked on him, whilst arthur hill began sharing some story with george and chris.

"oh, um, yeah! watched you on youtube for a while, even when you were just, like, doing covers," he smiled broadly.

"oh, that's really cool! i feel like not a lot of people knew me when i was doing covers," you said softly, and he just shrugged a little.

"were you going to stay for a drink?" arthur asked, and it became your turn to shrug. he was quite nice to look at, and that prospect made you slightly nervous.

"i mean, i wasn't planning on it, but i suppose a drink could do me some good," you giggled, and he nodded.

"i'll get you a drink, what do you drink?" he asked, and you tilted your head a little.

"oh, no, you don't have to get me one! i can get one, honestly," you said, but he shook his head with a genial look on his face, a knowing smile on his face making his eyes crinkle slightly.

"no, no, it's fine, please let me get you one?" he said, already sauntering his way to the bar as you followed a few paces behind him.

"okay, well, um, thank you..! i drink anything really, i'll just have whatever you're having," you smiled, and he nodded, ordering two pints of beer.

once the bartender had poured the drinks, you and arthur kept chatting whilst walking back to the rest of the group, who were still in discussion, and arthur seemed to pay it no notice, still speaking to you.

"i do really love your covers, by the way... you're easily one of my favourite singers," he spoke, and a small spread of blush graced your cheeks.

"that's really sweet of you, thank you," you murmured, a little shy before taking a sip of your drink and looking up to him, "so, you do youtube as well right? what kinds of videos?"

"oh, i dabble in a little of everything, in all honesty - i mainly do commentary on like reality tv, so things like ninety day fiance, if you know that? but i do a lot with others, too, reaction content, stuff like that," he explained, and you nodded along, smiling as he spoke about it.

"that seems really cool! i always thought i would love to vlog maybe, if my life got more interesting, y'know?" you joked with a slight giggle, "i don't really do much at the moment, i mean i sing, i write songs, i read a little... not too much, pretty boring."

arthur grinned a little and shook his head, "i don't think you're boring, i think you could definitely make interesting content in that sense,"

"i mean maybe, i don't know, maybe if i ever toured or something, that would be a cool thing to vlog," you looked up for a moment, as if you were rolling the idea around your head. "anyway, i should probably go soon, even though i'd love to stay and chat longer, but i gotta catch the last tube home," you nodded to him as your glass was finally empty, giving him a small apologetic smile.

"its no worries! i suppose i'll see you next saturday, right?" he asked - the day of the concert, and you nodded.

"yeah, of course!" you beamed, and turned to arthur hill and tapped his shoulder slightly, "sorry to interrupt the conversation! i was just gonna say bye, gotta catch the last tube home, but it was lovely to meet you all, and hopefully i'll see you on saturday?" you looked between the boys with a smile, and they nodded, all saying their goodbyes, and giving them slight hugs.

as you left, guitar case on your back and giving them a wave, before opening the door, george turned to arthur and grinned, "so, how's the not so secret youtube crush?" he teased, and arthur's face went red.

"yeah, we figured we'd leave you to it, seemed like you were in the zone," arthur hill chimed in and chris laughed at arthur's eyes rolling.

"she's... just very nice, that's all!" he poorly defended himself.

when saturday had rolled around, you were nervous, without sugarcoating anything.

luckily, you had nothing to be nervous about - your opening went great, the crowd was lovely, and the second your set was over, the rush of adrenaline was palpable as you came off stage, and couldn't hold back a toothy smile, wishing arthur hill good luck before he went on.

you watched eagerly from backstage, wanting to cool down a little and not wanting to jump straight into the crowd.

"you did great," you heard from behind you, and turned to see arthur.

"oh! thank you, i'm so glad i didn't flop or anything," you joked a little, giving him a small smile.

"you looked really good too, really, y'know, pretty," he grinned, "overall, a great performance,"

your cheeks turned slightly red at that compliment, shyly nodding a little as he laughed a little at you, though it was endearingly.

"can i trust you with a secret?" he smirked a little, and you tilted your head slightly.

"and what makes you want to tell me a secret?" you giggled back.

"'cause i reckon you can keep my secret," he retorted, "i've sort of had a fanboy crush on you for a while, y'know, from watching your youtube. you're as nice off camera as you are on." he smiled a little awkwardly, turning to look at you for a moment.

your eyes widened a little, your cheeks only burning more as he grinned at you still.

"oh? well, um, y'know... you're also, quite attractive," you practically babbled out, giggling a little nervously and he nodded in return. "nice eyes, and stuff,"

he laughed a little at your awkward attempt, and you rolled your eyes at him as he grinned, `"and stuff?" he teased, and you pushed his shoulder slightly.

"oh, shut up, you,"

[storiesfromafan]

A/N: Hi everyone, been a little while. I have been working on various stories in an attempt to break the writers block. Finally finished something, though I'm not 100% on how I feel about it. Hope you enjoy.

Mattheo x Fem!Reader

Spin The Bottle

How the Hell did you get here, starring down at an empty glass bottle. Which was pointed at you, and on the other end was none other than Mattheo ‘God’s gift to every Hogwarts girl’ Riddle. That pointed, smouldering gaze boring into you, making you want to slink back to oblivion.

Ah yes, good old days where you weren’t on anyone’s radar. Not even Mattheo fricken Riddles radar. The bliss of not being notice, blending into the students around. Free of social queues, or being social in general besides you’re few friends. It was such a nice existence, and this past month you began to miss it.

But like every teen girl, towards the end of fifth year, you began to feel a bit restless. The need to feel pretty, to be seen by the opposite sex as something to desire. So, during the break you had taken a trip with your parents to Paris to visit family. While there you sort out advice from your older female cousins. They were beautiful, graceful and everything you wanted to be. They took you under their wings. Guided you, and made you over.

So, when it came time to gather on Platform 9¾ and head back to Hogwarts for sixth year, you were nervous but excited. Joyous but also filled with dread. For the invisible nerdy girl finally took off her glasses and used contacts. No longer boxed in by framing bangs, now they are slowly growing out. Along with the growing out your bangs you had ditched tying your hair up every day, instead letting your (colour) locks flow over your shoulders in soft curls, all thanks to your cousins and their tips. Finally, your frumpy clothes were gone, replaced with more fitted and fashionable ones.

Your sixth year was your fresh start. New year, new you. That’s what you told yourself. Unfortunately, your lack of social queues made you oblivious to notice all the eyes that saw and followed you. You were the shiny new penny, with a gleam catching everyone’s eye. Including the Syltherin heart throb that’s gaze was currently all you could notice.

Now back to the question at hand; how the Hell did you get here. Chalk it up to teen insecurities, some ambition and lack of male attention. That’s how you got here. Along with your friends pestering you to finally go to a Slytherin House party. They had begged, no pleaded with you. And reluctantly you gave in. Though a small part was intrigued. The stories over the years of House parties always piqued your interest. And going from an ugly duckling to a beautiful Swan made you think you should go. But you did not expect to play spin the bottle, nor have Mattheo land on you!

The boy should be outlawed for being so good looking, as well as charming and over all dangerous to the female population! And just like all the other girls, you had a small crush on the guy. But what female student didn’t? And if they said they didn’t, they are lying. For Mattheo was every girl’s type. All girls like a bad boy, and Mattheo was the definition of bad. He had the looks, the attitude, smokes, drinks, skips class, pulls pranks...you get my drift. Mattheo was the bad boy every girl wanted to save, or sacrifice themselves in the process.

“It’s you” Ella, one of your friends whispered nudging you.

Her words brought you back to reality, which also made time seem to return to normal. Releasing the breath you had been holding you looked to the bottle and then back to the Slytherin before you. Now came the time for the game to claim your first kiss, and with Mattheo.

Shakily you moved to your knees and moved to lean over the bottle, Mattheo following your movements. You both met over the bottle. He looked into your eyes, which no doubt showed how frazzled you were. A soft, sweet smile formed on his lips, which seemed to settle your nerves.

“Eyes on me” Mattheo said softly. “Forget everyone else, it’s just you and me...”

With some ease in your eyes and body, Mattheo didn’t wait for that spell to break, for he was the one to close the distance. The feel of his soft lips against yours brought you back to reality. Mattheo Riddle was kissing you! (First name) (Last name) were locking lips with the most crushed on male in your year, no school!

Slowly Mattheo moved his lips against yours, his tongue coming out to run along your bottom lip. Your body stiffened. First your first kiss, and now your first French kiss he wants to take!? Who did he think he was?

Noticing your hesitance, Mattheo pulled back and looked at you with questioning eyes. He hadn’t forced his tongue into your mouth, nor did he take your first French kiss. Part of your heart skipped a beat at how the bad boy had some gentleman in him. The ohhhs around you both brought you back to the present. You had just kissed Mattheo. In front of a group of your peers.

Feeling the heat in your cheeks, you averted your eyes while moving back to your spot. But before you took your turn you decided to make a quick exit. You couldn’t play on. You shouldn’t have played in the first place! Some groaned and protested of your choice to leave. But Ella saying she’d spin instead helped ease those around you.

It didn’t entirely matter to you. You were a mixed bag of thoughts and emotions. Escaping the party, which was in fine form, you headed to a bathroom. You need a moment of as much silence you can get so you could sort yourself out. Once in the nearest bathroom, you turned on the tap at the sink. Cupping the cold water you were about to splash your face but stopped, you remembered the make up you wore. Instead you let your hands cool before placing the cool, wet hands on the back and around your neck.

‘I’m an idiot!’ you thought with a groan, as reality sunk in.

After kissing Mattheo you practically ran from the circle of your peers. Who does that? No one had ever done that before. You knew that because there has never been any gossip of someone kissing and running. Until now. You will be the talk of the school. How pathetic you are to kiss the schools heart throb and then run away like a baby.

Then you replayed the kiss in your mind. Mattheo had been gentle, and not forceful. From the way other girls talk about him, he was meant to be some scoundrel that takes what he wants, but does it in a way that makes you want more. He might be a bad boy, but he still was respectful. You touched your lips with your fingers. It was a perfect first kiss. You smiled at that. Only for it to fall knowing you’d had ruined your chance by taking off like a spooked animal.

‘Good job’ you scolded yourself, looking at your reflection. “Just perfect” you huffed.

“You or the kiss?” Came a curious voice behind you, making you turn around and clutch the sink behind you.

Upon turning around you were greeted by the boy on your mind, Mattheo Riddle. He gave you a soft smile placing his hands in his pockets.

“Personally, I think both are perfect” his voice was soft and slightly echoed against the walls.

It took a few minutes before his words sunk in. Mattheo Riddle just said not only was your kiss perfect, so are you. No doubt the look on your face marked with confusion and some horror. He thought you to be perfect. Was he crazy? Possibly. Or was this some big joke? More likely.

“I...I don’t understand...” You said in disbelief. “I’m far from perfect...”

Mattheo gave a soft, genuine smile. “I think you are”. He slowly moves across the bathroom. “I think your caring, smart, thoughtful, attentive, adorably cute...and that was all before your change”.

He stopped before you as he finished his words. Once again you were floored. Mattheo has noticed you all along! He saw you when you thought you were invisible, or rather thought you were invisible. You always thought your friends, some of your house mates and teachers always saw you. You had only became visible when in your first broom riding class in first year when you fell off your broom while a few meters off the ground. Also the numerous times you had been a klutz and fallen down staircases, quiet ungraceful too. Being uncoordinated and smart, every mistake or accident got your peers laughing at you.

“I-I don’t understand” you said softly. “You noticed me before?” You asked, needing an explanation.

Mattheo brought his hand up and moved a bit of hair out of your face. “It’s hard not to when you were the first person I encountered on the train in first year. You were all alone in a carriage. Dressed like a boy with crazy hair” he chuckled.

A light bulb went off in your mind. How had you forgotten that moment? He had asked if he could share the carriage, and you had meekly said yes. You both sat quietly, studying the other. Finally Mattheo took the initiative to talk, though he had been rude. After seeing you jump, he realised you were nervous, maybe a bit scared.

“First time away from home?” He had asked with a sigh.

You nodded your head watching him with big (E/C) eyes.

“It’s like that” he offered with a softer tone of voice. “Your parents were sad to watch you go. But they were just like you, leaving their family to go to Hogwarts”.

Once again you nodded your head, but slowly.

“Look at it like this, you’re on an adventure” he sat back further with a genuine smile. “Every moment away from home you are learning, exploring and making memories, all stories to tell your parents when you see them”.

Mattheo had shown a moment of kindness to you. But looking back over the years there were other times he had been kind to you. From opening a door and letting you enter first, to helping take potion ingredients that are too high on a shelf down for you, to stopping you from falling into the lake a few times when students had tried to push you in. Mattheo Riddle had always noticed you and had been so kind.

“You were always kind to me...” You said slightly dumbfounded.

Mattheo playfully rolled his eyes. “Don’t let everyone hear you say that. I have a bad boy rep to keep intact”.

You laughed at his words. “Sorry, I won’t go broadcasting it”. Mattheo then laughed.

Once you both stopped laughed, you both looked at each other. You took this time to study the boy before you. He had changed so much since first year. He was cute back then but now he was handsome. Much taller now, you had to tilt your head up to look at the male before you. His gorgeous brown eyes shining with humour and delight, a rare sight to be seen, as they usually show coldness and boredom.

“You’ve changed so much since the tomboy with crazy hair” Mattheo chuckled.

You rolled your eyes, “shut up” you chuckled playfully pushing him.

Before you could retract your hand, Mattheo reaches out and took your hand in his. Watching you closely he brought your hand to his lips, leaving a chaste kiss to your knuckles. You felt your breath hitch at his ministrations. He was being charming, like he would with many other girls, but with you it was real.

“I didn’t mind the tomboy you. Nor did I mind the frumpy, nerdy look you had going” Mattheo stated, thumb caressing the back of your hand that was still in his hold. “But I would be lying if I said I didn’t like your new look. I want you to know I have always like you, the you on the inside”.

If your brain was working you would have either melted, knees would have gone week at his confession and actions. He was making it hard not to fall head over heels for the boy before you. Than you asked yourself why he followed you? Why he has said what he has?

“Why? W-why tell me this now...” You thought out loud.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Mattheo asked. “I thought I was being apparent, and I thought you were smart” he joked. “(Y/N/N), I like you”.

You were shocked. The school bad boy just admitted to liking you. And possibly liked you for sometime. Any girl would swoon and kiss Mattheo for such a confession. But you weren’t like those girls. You pulled back your hand and moved away from Mattheo, thinking of running from the room. Running was something you liked to do recently.

“Where are you going?” He asked watching you with slight worry but a lot of hilarity. “Going to run away again? Might have to call you Cinderella”.

You stopped and shot Mattheo a dirty look. “I’m not like Cinderella”.

“Yes you are, you ran after we kissed” he stated matter-of-factly walking towards you.

“I-I” you spluttered trying to figure out what to say as you move backwards, Mattheo moving with you.

Feeling your back coming in contact with a wall, you jumped. Mattheo taking no time, placing a hand on either side of your head blocking you in.

“No running away this time Cinderella” he said softly, holding your gaze with his deep brown eyes.

Seeing as you weren’t going to speak, or run, Mattheo moved his left hand to caress your cheek. The contact made you jump, but the soft movement slowly soothing you.

“I serious (Y/N/N). I like you. Past, present and future” his words held sincerity that made your heart flutter. “And I hope I’m part of that future...”

Mattheo’s words left you speechless. You had never heard him speak so much to you, let alone hear how much depth he had in him. The Hogwarts bad boy, Slytherin heart throb was opening up to you. Mattheo Riddle likes you. The ugly duckling, turned beautiful Swan, as stated by your friends.

“Are you going to say anything?” Mattheo asked, fear leaking into his voice. He of all people was the last you’d think to be self conscious.

Snapping out of it, you stood up straighter. “I like you!” You blurted out not thinking. Once realising what you just did you groaned and hung your head.

Mattheo started to laugh, but it wasn’t malicious. It was hearty and warm. As his laugh died down, Mattheo lifted your head up. He looked you in the eyes, nothing but warmth and joy in his eyes.

“You are too cute love” he said softly. “And I’m glad you like me back”.

You smiled threw your embarrassment. Before you could say anything, or try to say anything, Mattheo took the opportunity to capture your lips. Shocked you tensed up, but feeling him lace his fingers in your hair relaxed you. He was soft, tender with you. But then his tongue ran along your bottom lip, causing you to jump a little again.

Pulling back Mattheo looked at you reassuringly. “It’s alright love, no rush”.

Mattheo took you into his arms and held you close. You rest your head against his chest, muttering sweet things in your ear.

Unfortunately that was the moment a few girls walked into the bathroom, and came across you both. You all looked at each other, before you felt your face heat up and you pushed Mattheo away. Not waiting for him or the girls to speak, you took off out of the bathroom. Without skipping a beat, Mattheo took off after you and the girls found themselves giggling at what they walked into, or what they could have walked in on. If Mattheo’s reputation was correct.

Feeling a tad humiliated you didn’t listen to Mattheo and his calls to slow down or stop. You had decided you were done for the night. And hoped tomorrow’s gossip mill isn’t about you.

A/N: as always, happy for feedback :)

[cantheywinthehungergames]

Only had 2 submissions in the queue, so I'm throwing something in!

Tribute Name: Saiki Kusuo

Age: 15-17 (throughout series)

Media: The Disastrous Life of Saiki K.

Restrictions: No psychic powers or other superhuman abilities of any kind

Happy Thanksgiving to those who celebrate it!

If you would like to see your favorite character either as a tribute or as a mentor, please fill out this Google Form. Just keep in mind that for mentor polls, they will be posted every Saturday so chances are it could take a long time before they are posted.

Please also look at my pinned post for submission rules as well as a list of previously submitted characters prior to submitting your character.

[dailyreverie]

Santa baby

A/N: Requested by @rositxespinosa. This is completely unhinged, I don't know what came over me, and I'm not sorry about that. Hope you all like it!

Holiday prompts ⛄ 10. Naughty

Pairing: Poe Dameron x reader | Modern!AU (just because Santa's not a thing in SW)

CW: 18+ MINORS DNI. Nudity, implicit sex.

Word count: 813

The day had dragged on in the most mundane way possible, each passing seeming like it lasted longer than the last. Working in an empty office due to the Holiday break around the corner tired you out of boredom, leaving you yearning for the comforting embrace of home, of Poe, of being able to talk to him more than just a “I’m going to die from boredom” text. 

As you stepped into the apartment, the weariness of the day began to vanish, replaced by the anticipation of familiar warmth. “Poe?” You call into the apartment, kicking off your shoes and tossing off your coat.

“Hi, sweetheart!” You heard Poe calling from your bedroom, instantly making you smile. “How was your day?”

“Fine,” You replied without much of a thought, the sign of an uneventful day. “What are you up to?” It wasn’t normal for Poe not to jump to the door to greet you, welcoming you with a kiss that makes you forget about your day, bringing you home in every aspect of the word.

“Just waitin’ for you.” He was always great at making you smile right of the bat.

“Good, because all day I’ve been wanting nothing but to watch one of those stupid movies from our queue. I had such a boring day, you have no idea,” your venting began as you start your walk to your shared bedroom, already craving the feeling of Poe’s arms around you. “The only interesting thing that happened today was that the coffee machine broke down and it spilled all over Finn’s shirt, that poor guy, we couldn’t stop laughing about it and he was so mad! At one point I really thought he was going to-”

Your train of thought is abruptly interrupted when, as you enter your room, you notice Poe is completely naked. He is wearing absolutely nothing, except for a Santa hat right on top of his- “Poe! Oh my God!”

The noise you let out is somewhere between a laugh and a gasp, all while your face turns 100 different shades of pink and red.

“Yes, my love?” His eyebrows move up his face, fake innocence all over his features, doe eyes and all as he keeps his eyes fakely interested in whatever the phone in his hand is showing. “You were saying?”

Your eyes travel up and down his body, taking in the sight that welcomes you home. “What are you doing?” You speak after a couple of seconds of silence, chuckling, breaking his fake naiveness and making him smile.

“Waiting for you.” His smirk, though, is a clear sign of why he was waiting for you. “I think someone forgot to check if you were naughty or nice this year.”

“Oh my God, you are unbelievable” You let out an airy laugh, not able to keep your eyes away from him.

“Are you saying you don’t believe in Santa? ‘Cause he might forget to give you a gift if you keep this attitude.

You giggle at him, at the whole situation he probably came up with when you texted how boring your day was. Not able to resist him anymore your fingers start to undo your clothes. Poe tosses his phone aside when you start walking towards him, his turn to look you up and down as you begin to unbutton your shirt. “Santa’s just here to check if you've been naughty or nice."

You playfully roll your eyes, still blushing but unable to suppress your laughter. "Is that so?" you tease, crawling across the bed. As Poe moves to get into a more comfortable position, the Santa hat that rests on top of him wiggles a bit, adding to the absurdity of the situation. You reach him, straddling his waist and resting your hands on his chest.

Poe stops in front of you, his gaze filled with a mix of affection and lust. "Well, sweetheart, have you been naughty?" he asks, leaning in to plant a soft kiss on your lips.

You respond with a playful smile. "Maybe a little bit naughty," you admit, running your fingers along the bare skin of his chest. "But I think I deserve a special gift from Santa.” Your tongue licks languidly over his lips, asking for permission to enter as your hand expertly removes the hat from his cock, wrapping around it and making him let out a delicious moan against your lips.

He grins, his hands moving to your waist to guide you to grind on him. "Oh, you'll get a special gift, alright," he murmurs, his lips trailing down your neck.

The two of you share a moment of laughter and passion, the Santa hat long forgotten on the floor. As you both collapse onto the bed, tangled in each other's arms, you can't help but feel grateful for the way he always turns your day around, in the most unexpected ways, in the most uneventful days; no matter what, you can count on Poe to make your day feel whole.

🎄❄️🎄❄️🎄❄️🎄❄️🎄❄️🎄❄️🎄❄️🎄❄️

Thanks for reading! Please reblog and comment if you enjoyed it!

[fayes-fics]

Electric

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, Modern AU

Summary: Modern AU. Passionate al fresco thunderstorm sex…

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, vaginal sex, passionate sex al fresco during a thunderstorm, a touch of biting, marking. Also, beware, this has a very soppy ending. Yes, that needs a warning.

Word Count: 3.7k

Authors Note: Not what I should be working on, sorry. Sort of a request fill for a handful of my lovely discord mutuals (you know exactly who you are). Blame the thunderstorms that tore through the Northeastern US yesterday for this one. Thanks to @colettebronte for reading through for me. OK, now back to my queue that I should be writing. Enjoy <3

“We must have taken a wrong turn,” you sigh, watching the gathering shelf of dark grey, almost purple-hued clouds rolling overhead just as dusk approaches, the lightning flashes you had seen on the horizon a few minutes before a harbinger.

“Yes, I think so,” Benedict admits quietly, scanning the surrounding countryside of the narrow single-track lane you are on somewhere in the wilds of Cornwall. He took over the driving duty a couple of hours ago.

“I don’t think we’ll make it to the reception dinner on time now. We probably should have downloaded the route so we could have navigated offline,” your voice rueful about your lack of planning.

“Hindsight is always twenty-twenty,” he shrugs as he flicks on the wipers, rain pattering onto the widescreen. His laissez-faire attitude to the dilemma is somehow a calming influence over your vague anxiety about being late. And lost. In an approaching storm. He always seems so calm in the face of everything; you envy him a touch.

There are a few minutes of silence as you ponder what to do. Whether you should try to find a spot wide enough to turn around and backtrack or keep going, knowing you are headed in the approximate correct direction, in the hope the patchwork of country lanes crisscrossing the area will eventually lead you somewhere more promising—all the while, glancing up at the darkening sky.

“Pull over. I might have an old-fashioned roadmap lurking somewhere in the boot,” you offer as the car slips into a tunnel of trees, the lack of view galvanising your resolve to find a way out.

“Will it be detailed enough for us to work out where we are?” he frowns.

“Better than hoping for our phones to work out here, especially in a storm,” you point out, holding up yours that still reads No Service as if mocking you.

“Okay,” he agrees.

He drives a little further until there is a pull-in designed for passing; it’s just about the length of your car. By now, the rain is pelting down; it is almost night-time dark under the canopy of trees; the thunk of heavy drops on the car roof is more pronounced as it filters through the dense branches above.

“What are you doing?” he asks as you unbuckle your strappy evening sandals.

“It’s pissing it down, and I’m certain this lay-by will be all muddy. I’m not ruining these fancy new shoes.”

“So you are just going to get muddy feet instead?”

“Yes, my feet are washable; these are not,” you argue, waving the shoes before tossing them into the backseat.

“Look, you stay here. I’ll get the map,” he offers chivalrously, “just tell me approximately where you think it might be?”

“I have no idea,” you admit sheepishly, “somewhere under our suitcases… and, well, everything else piled back there. Sorry…” you wince a little, apologetic.

He rolls his eyes without heat, throws open the driver’s door, slams it shut, and sprints to the back of the car just as thunder claps make you jump. You hear him rummaging around in the boot for a while then there is a muffled voice saying that he can’t find anything. You glance in the rearview mirror and see him close it, then tip his head up and let the rain sluice over him, giving up on attempting to stay dry. 

“Ben, get back in here,” you shout, cracking your window a tiny amount, droplets painting your arm even with an inch of opening.

“No point now, I'm soaked through,” he laughs loudly, and you watch as he jogs around in front of the car and throws his arms aloft in the beam of the headlights whooping in child-like delight. “Come join me!” he yells over the din of the rain. 

All you can do is stare incredulously as he stands there, his white shirt turning translucent and clinging to his torso, rivulets of rain running down his face and slicking back his hair.  He looks beautiful. Handsome. Carefree. His face cracks into a large grin as he spins slowly and tilts his head back.

“Come on!” he calls again, shouting skyward. 

With a twisted pout, you reach over and flick off the ignition, the headlights cutting out. Tentatively you open the door, and the noise hits you like a wall, the rain sheeting down, splattering noisily onto the road, that intensity which only comes with a summer storm rolling in to usher out the heat. You take one rueful look at your floral dry-clean-only knee-length dress and then step out. Your foot sinks into the squelchy, verdant grass verge as he jogs up to you, arms aloft in celebration, almost giddy with excitement.

“This storm is intense, isn't it?! Let's go into the field over there. I bet the view over the valley is amazing!” he declares, grabbing your hand and heading for an opening among the line of trees.

“Ben…” you trail, your gait reluctant, feeling a trickle of rain track down your spine from your neck all the way into your underwear.

“We are never going to make it to that wedding reception on time now,” he accurately surmises, “So… lets's just… enjoy this! Live in the moment! When do we get thunderstorms this intense?! Hardly ever. Come on!!” he grins, shaking your joined hand slightly to gee you along.

His enthusiasm is infectious, and the rain is surprisingly refreshing after the last few days of stifling heat; you find yourself capitulating and letting yourself be dragged along.

“Come here,” he laughs, picking you up bridal style when he notices the slightly rough stony ground under the tree cover.

You can’t help your laughing bubbling up as he carries you until you reach the grassy field, his body flexing against you, stirring something in you. You've been together for a few months now, long enough to be each other’s plus one for friends' weddings, such as was supposed to happen tonight, but still in that early flush of romance where given half a chance, you will not leave a bed all weekend.

He gently places you back on your feet, and once outside the tree cover, you are soaked through within seconds. Your dress rapidly becomes heavy and glued to your skin. You don’t even want to think about your hair and makeup….

“You look beautiful,” he assures, as if reading your mind, a soft smile on his handsome face, all jaw and cheekbones as water sluices over the contours. 

“So do you,” your reply is a truthful reflex, and his responding demure smile melts a hot pool in your chest, like a little oil lantern you hold behind your ribs just for him.

“Let's go see,” he urges, wrapping an arm tight around your shoulders. Yours bands around his slim waist, the water from the back of his shirt seeping over your forearm as you do so.

It’s about fifty feet of slight incline until the field falls away, and there is suddenly a beautiful rolling vista of the Cornish countryside before you. Little fields dotted with hedgerows and in the sky above the storm slicing across the valley, half still dry and half obscured by a grey fug of heavy rain. Beyond, you can just see a slice of the sea.

You both stop short and just stare at the wonder before you. “See?” he enthuses, squeezing your shoulder.

“It's beautiful,” you admit, even as you have to brush a sodden strand of hair away from your face. A sudden flash of lightning rips high across the sky, making you jump instinctively into him.  His hand curls tighter around your shoulder, and your gaze cuts to meet his; something wild there, electric, like the storm you are in.

Wordlessly, he twists to kiss you, the fervency taking you by surprise, his lips hot, the water trickling down his face cool by comparison. Just as you go to deepen it and open your mouth, he pulls back with a little smirk and grabs your hand again, drawing you off to the right. He is making a beeline for a large, sprawling oak sitting majestic but incongruous in the middle of the brow of the field. Likely the remnants of a great wood that once stood here, hundreds of years before, a singular monument to the past.

“Isn't it dangerous to shelter under a tree in a storm?” you question, your words almost stolen by a stray gust of wind.

“Probably,” he buzzes and something in his tone feels daring; he stops moving and pulls you hard into his body. “It's exciting, isn't it?” his words hot over the shell of your ear, and your body feels alive. 

Only he can do this. Just one rumbled sentence and a frisson runs through your entire being. Your hands map his neck as you push up onto tiptoe to meet his lips, unable to resist your body's siren call for him. The kiss this time is more frenzied, and as your tongues touch, there is a rumble of thunder you feel reverberate in your ribcage.

“Have you ever had sex outside in a storm?” he whispers over your lips as you part.

“No,” you confess, your eyes fluttering closed as he peppers little kisses across your face.

“Me either. Would you like to?” the ask is murmured into your ear as he gently sucks the edge of your earlobe.

“Fuck yes,” you breathe, excited by the prospect, feeling an entirely different wetness between your legs. 

Out here in nature with a beautiful view and a storm raging seems adventurous and so elemental, the ozone in the air making every hair on your body stand on end, the petrichor oozing from the earth beneath your toes, the sight and feel of his toned body, soaked, warm skin under cool rain. 

You back away from him towards the tree trunk, and although he stays rooted to the spot, his stare is predatory, and his chest heaving as you bite your lip and wordlessly shimmy under your dress until you can drop your underwear.

The noise he makes is as savage as the roll of thunder it accompanies, and in three long, athletic strides, thigh muscle prominent under his clinging trousers, he is on you. Large hands grab your bottom and haul you off your feet; your legs wrap around his hips on instinct as he sucks your neck, walking you backwards until rough bark abrades your shoulder blades. Your fingers card through his drenched hair as you moan under his attention, his hands frenetically pushing your dress high up your thighs until you feel the wind around your bare bottom cheeks.

Everything between you suddenly frantic, like the storm, roiling and tempestuous, every sensation heightened. Warm skin and cold, wet cotton, soft earth and solid treetrunk, light and dark as the view is almost daylight under the intense flash before plunging into dusk again. And the noise. So much noise. The pounding rain, the howling wind whipping through the tree above and whistling low through the grasses, the rolling thunder, his breath hard in your ear, your own moans as you fumble to unzip his fly, feeling his cock insistent against you, so very desperate for him to be inside you immediately. 

Your head tilts into a knot of wood as he slides into your body in one swift motion, pulling you down onto his cock as he thrusts upwards. The feral noise you make is almost lost to the wind, and your eyes roll closed, just going limp at the overwhelming heat and stretch, toes curling around the back of his knee as his trousers slip further down his legs. It's only recently you both agreed to go condom-free, and every time his unsheathed cock plunges into you, it feels so visceral, like every contour and vein was designed to hit just the right spots deep inside.

A hand yanks aside your neckline, with what sounds like a rip in the fabric under your arm, as a wet hand cups your left breast, a fingernail dragging bluntly over your nipple as it puckers almost painfully. All his movements ferocious, so different to his usual gentle, sensual pace in the quietness of your beds. But somehow, it’s precisely what you need, crave, and want. Untamed and tumultuous.

Your base demand for him to fuck you hard is a clarion call that catalyses him to begin moving, his hard hot tip splitting you open with every thrust. Your hands want to be everywhere at once, in his hair, gripping his neck, his shoulders, his back, his bum, tearing open his shirt. They settle on a combination of all; your motions just as fevered as his. When you are able to peel his shirt down to his elbows, he takes over briefly, propping you against the tree, speared deep on his cock as he fights it off around his cuffs and tosses it aside.

“How does this dress undo?” he pants loudly in your ear, and one fumbling hand unzips down your side, giving enough slack for him to tug it over your head. 

Then you are both naked, fucking hard against the tree, your sodden clothes discarded around you as you take from each other primally, sucking and biting shoulders hard enough to leave marks, the rough bark rubbing abrasions into your spine and his kneecaps. And yet you do not stop. Like the storm, the intensity is almost like whiplash. He has never fucked you this hard before, and you have never been so rough, fingernails digging into flesh until he grunts, teeth biting his neck, his ear, teeth even grazing his cheek on the way to biting kisses. 

Staring over his shoulder at the wondrous view as he surges into you over and over, as you moan encouragements, always so greedy, begging for more, and now, and to never stop. He obliges, kneading the flesh of your bottom, fingers snagging and tugging your nipples, pulling back to stare into your eyes and lean your heads together, slack mouths breathing each other’s air as you ratchet higher. 

This is the least you have ever communicated during sex, but somehow it feels superfluous. Like your bodies are in tune, moving in tandem, push and pull, together and apart, over and over and over, your sweat sluiced away by the rain tumbling from the heavy boughs above. The only words spoken are your names, and as he pulls one of your legs up over his forearm, your thigh muscle burning slightly with the stretch, you know it's burning intensity now. Open and vulnerable to him, he brushes your clit with every thrust. You start to scream, the liberating feeling of solitude, miles from anyone and anything, making your inhibitions tumble away. And he loves it, growls at you to be loud, scream his name, his chest swelling with heaving breaths and pride about how he can wring such sounds from you. 

This is the sort of sex you have only read about before now - passionate, near animalistic, rabid, frantic, and so addictive you want to move to the countryside and fuck in the woods for the rest of your days. Rain or shine.

“Look at me,” he murmurs, and your movements slow a touch as you tilt your eyes up to meet his, seeing the lightning flash behind you reflected in his inky pupils, mouth open and face unable to mask any of your teetering shudders. You are so close to a precipice, almost reluctant to tumble over it, wanting this intoxicating experience never to end. It feels like he wants to say something else, something profound, but the words appear stuck in his throat, almost afraid to be declared. 

“Me too,” you whisper urgently, a cryptic enough response to any number of statements he could be struggling to articulate. 

He nods ferociously and kisses you like a starved man as he grabs one of your hands and guides it between your bodies, pressed into each other. 

“Touch yourself for me, please,” he begs, and you do as he starts that punishing pace again. It's only a few strokes, and you are convulsing, lightning piercing the sky and painting the inside of your eyelids as you screw them shut and allow yourself to tumble over the edge into oblivion, your body convulsing hard, rain trickling hard down your limbs, your skin both hot and cold and too tight at once as you fracture in his arms and slump into him babbling incoherently, Distantly you hear him biting off curses, and with a few thrusts, that push you up off your feet, he stills and shouts a biting version of your name into your shoulder as he comes hard, the warmth coating inside you as yet another clap of thunder causes you both to jolt.

The sound of both of your ragged breathing is louder than the rain as you slowly return to the scene, your thigh slipping from his forearm as he leans into you, into the tree, almost a crushing weight.

“Wow…” he sounds awestruck.

“Ditto,” you struggle out, sharing a lighthearted chuckle. 

You wrap around each other in a wordless tangle of limbs, leaning on the solid trunk and mesmerised by the beautiful view, watching as the worst storm clouds move away towards the sea. 

Deciding there is barely any point in attempting to re-dress, once the rain abates slightly, you agree to brave the dash back to your car nude, hand in hand and laughing carefree. Once there, you yank open your gym bag and giggle as you both attempt to dry off using the one towel in the backseat, discarding your sodden garments into a plastic bag and laughing uproariously as you pull on your casual clothes for the journey home in the tiny cramped space.

“I’ll never forget tonight,” he says softly, sincerely, after you clamber back into the front seats.

“Me either,” you smile gently back.

You never did find the wedding venue, but somehow, neither of you particularly care.

____

Twelve months later, you are back in Cornwall, and he pulls up in that familiar layby.

“Is this…?” you twist to look at him; it appears so different on a bright sunny July day you almost double-take.

“Yes,” he answers, a nervous energy vibrating off him that seems odd.

“How on earth did you find it again?”.

“A lot of time spent pinching in and out on Google Maps for many weeks,” he confesses meekly.

You laugh and allow him to drag you out of the car, enjoying the sun's warmth as you emerge from the treeline and walk up that slight slope.

The view is just as breathtaking as you remember on a warm sunny afternoon; the memories of that night, always so clear and vivid, come tumbling back as he leads you under the shade of the mighty oak.

You laugh as he whips a penknife from his jeans pocket and carves your initials into the wood, like some cheesy teenage couple. He doesn't release your hand as he does so, so you push up your sunglasses, enjoying drinking in the vista, idly thinking this is such a beautiful spot that you would happily live right here.

“Whoever owns this land will be mad if they ever find this,” you state drolly.

“I think they are just fine with it, actually,” he answers somewhat cryptically, but you let it slide. Perhaps he looked up the owner when researching how to locate the field again. 

It's only when he steps away that you notice he has not carved a last initial for you. 

“Do I not have a last name?” you raise an arch eyebrow, body checking him lightly in jest, but your brow knits as his nervous energy returns. “Are you okay?” you check.

“What I carve depends on your answer to my next question…,” he rushes over an exhale. 

Before you know it, he is down on one knee before you.

And you entirely forget how to breathe.

“I… I couldn't think of anywhere else to ask this…,” he begins tremulant, but you don't even let him finish.

“YES!!” you squeal behind a shaking hand cupped over your mouth.

He laughs and hangs his head briefly. “Can I please ask anyway?” his eyes sparkling as he looks up again.

“Sorry!” you squeak and squeeze his shoulder, fingers trembling. “Please, continue….”

“Y/n, will you marry me?” his face radiates devotion as he holds out a ring box with your ideal ring nestled inside.

“YES!!” you squeal again, impatient and vibrating with emotion as he shakily pushes the ring onto your finger, and you haul him to his feet and launch yourself into his arms, almost knocking him over.

“Ooof!” he exclaims as you partially knock the wind out of him, but he rallies, and you share sweet kisses.

“How much do you love this view?” he queries when you finally part and slip back to your feet.

“I love it as much today as I did that day,” you sigh dreamily.

“Something you would perhaps like to look at frequently?” his voice uncertain, seemingly hedging.

“Of course… why?”

“I may have done something… a little rash,” he admits.

“What?” you frown.

“So the owner of this land doesn't mind the oak being carved because… well… that owner is me.” 

And your jaw drops for a second time.

“Benedict…” all other words fail.

“And you too now, of course; what's mine is yours.” He points to a far-off spot at the end of the slope. “That hedge down there? As far as that is ours. I brought this whole field from the farmer, and umm, I’m in the process of applying for planning permission to build a home right here. For us. This view will be our back garden. Right next to this very special tree,” he concludes, tapping the sturdy trunk with his knuckles.

“You utter romantic idiot,” you whisper through blinking tears. 

Back in his arms this time, you tumble to the ground, rolling in the cool grass under its sheltering might.

“One electric night changes it all, doesn’t it?” he whispers.

You couldn't agree more.

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[wolfstargazer]

13th May - Almost kiss - @wolfstarmicrofic - word count: 834

cw - drinking

The bass of the music made it difficult but Remus just about managed to make himself heard as he pulled Lily close and yelled, "I'm going."

Lily said something which sounded like a plea for him to stay. After all this had been her idea. It had been so long since she had had a night out, long before Harry had been born, and she had pressured them all into coming, insisting that it would do them all good.

But this sort of place wasn't really Remus' scene. A quiet pub with a roaring fire with seats well placed so he could huddle close to his friends whilst they spoke was more his taste. Not here; a Muggle establishment with a floor sticky with spilt drinks and filled with cigarette smoke.

But he had never really been able to deny Lily anything. And she hadn't been wrong... that he'd needed to relax. The problem was that in order to do so Remus had drunk far more than was sensible to steel himself for seeing him again. But it hadn't worked, and even though it had been weeks since they had spoken, and months since things had been right between them, Remus felt a treacherous swell of emotions when Sirius had arrived.

Remus smiled one last time to Lily, gave her hand a squeeze, and made his way through the crowd towards the cloak room. The corridor was narrow, and there was quite the queue. Remus peered down at the ticket stub he'd pulled from his pockets and sighed. With just the one person behind the counter, he could be here sometime...

A figure, leather-jacketed and clearly intoxicated, careered into Remus, causing the ticket to slip from his hand. He saw it flutter out of his fingers to the floor, watched as the figure swooped down to retrieve it, and realised with a jolt that it was Sirius.

Sirius gave a crooked smile, and swayed drunkenly towards Remus, handing out the ticket for him to take.

"Erm...thanks," Remus said, taking the ticket, and doing everything he could to avoid Sirius' eyes.

But it was hard. Sirius swayed closer. He placed one hand against the wall to steady himself, bringing him closer still. His voice was thick with drink, and Remus could smell it on his breath when Sirius asked, "You're not leaving?"

"Yes."

"But we've hardly seen each other."

Not true, a treacherous voice inside Remus' head drunkenly whispered. My eyes have followed you around the entire place even though I've been avoiding you.

Remus didn't say any of this. Instead, he gave a shrug and gave into the temptation of looking Sirius in the eye.

That was a mistake. Stripped away of inhibitions by the drink, the distance and the coldness that had built between them evaporated instantly. In his eyes, Remus could read a vulnerability and a longing he couldn't quite believe.

Remus swallowed and tried to focus on anything than the instant flush of desire that surged through his body and made his head swim.

"Merlin I've missed you," Sirius said in a throaty whisper.

Remus felt the edges of his reality blur as Sirius pressed closer. He felt Sirius' chest bump against his and couldn't suppress the shiver of pleasure it inspired.

"I've missed you too," Remus found himself replying.

The confession took them both by surprise. Remus registered the look in Sirius' face and saw the moment he seemed to decide as he leant closer, fixed Remus with a look that left him no where to hide, and said, "I'm going to kiss you now, Remus."

The use of his name told Remus that Sirius meant it. Sirius reached out and placed his palm against Remus' cheek. The ghost of a smirk tugged at his lips as he lowered his head and pleaded, hotly, "Please don't stop me."

With a voice that Remus didn't recognise as his own, he replied with just two words.

"I won't."

"There you both are!" A voice came from behind them.

Remus started, Sirius dropped his hand and moved unsteadily away.

James, oblivious as to the interuption, appeared from behind Sirius and threw his arm about his shoulders.

Remus took his chance and moved. The queue had shrunk, and soon he'd be at the counter. He stole a look at Sirius who seemed to have forgotten everything, ruffling James' hair roughly before allowing him to lead him back in the direction of the bar.

"Ticket?" a nasal voice asked, drawing Remus' attention away from the back of Sirius' head.

The Muggle man behind the counter held his hand out, waiting for Remus to comply.

"Oh... right....sorry..." Remus said, handing over the ticket he clutched in his sweaty palm. His stomach lurched as the man handed over his jacket. Two girls giggled in the doorway as he passed them and tried to catch his eye. But Remus didn't see them as he pushed open the heavy door and walked out alone into the night.

[octuscle]

Hi Chronivac or Suitcase people! I'm looking for a change in my life like working with my body rather than with my brain, living in the north rather than in the south, being poor but happy rather than wealthy and unhappy, being a player rather than the relationship-guy and so on. I hope for your help

Dude, seriously, if you're going to do it, do it! Why only half the cake? Why not work with your awesome body, live on the beach in the south, be rich and happy and take everything that comes along? Somehow that sounds much better… At least for me… I have another suitcase for you, labeled MVD. Filled with everything you need for a basic jet-set influencer beach vacation. Beachwear from Vilebrequin, sportswear from Balenciaga, a little something for the evening from Prada and co. And a hotel voucher for The Grand Hotel in Punta del Este. Just for the weekend. After that, it's off to Buenos Aires for you and then you'll have to see…

Shit, the brand new iPhone alone, which you're holding in your freshly manicured hands, costs more than you've paid in rent for your miserable apartment in six months. You don't even want to know what the entire contents of this suitcase cost. But how do you get to this Punta del Este now? And where is it anyway? You look at your new cell phone. Your tickets are in the wallet. First to Madrid, and then on to Montevideo. Premium Economy. Sounds great, you've never had that before. Should you put something on straight from your suitcase? Better not. You should take it easy on your clothes. But maybe one of those T-shirts from Balenciaga. A quick look in the mirror… Okay, better not, maybe a little tight around the hips. You're not changing.

When you check in your suitcase, the ground staff lady flirts with you. She asks why you've joined the queue with all the tourists. As an Emerald customer with oneworld, you should have been allowed to use the first class check-in. She asks if she can upgrade you to Business Class as compensation. You don't say no.

You can get used to the lounge. It's better than waiting outside in the aisles. The toilets are also better. And when you look in the mirror, you think that they must be playing tricks with the light. You look younger and more relaxed. And were you wearing that immaculate white shirt just now? Somehow the champagne seems to be going to your head. You almost missed the boarding call.

The lounge was cool, but flying in Business Class is really awesome! There aren't many passengers up here. But somehow you get the impression that everyone is just looking after you. Like a real VIP. You take a selfie of yourself and the purser. Later for Instagram. The Iberia logo well placed. You have to show your appreciation somehow. In Madrid, you send the two pictures out. The second one with the pilot. He says it was an honor to fly you. They're getting a bit carried away… They're making fun of you!

When you go through passport control at the terminal change, you first think you've put the wrong passport in your pocket. Cool picture! But it doesn't look like you. You check it out as best you can in the reflection of a window pane. Yes, the angular features, the piercing blue eyes… It all fits.

It's getting better and better. Instead of your connecting flight being called for boarding, a member of ground staff comes by in the lounge, takes your bag and accompanies you to the gate. You're already in the mood for a glass of champagne. But alcohol is only compatible with your six-pack to a limited extent. Besides, it's already late and you should get some sleep. You have more than enough room. So apply your night cream, put on your sleep pods and put on your sleeping goggles. And when you wake up rested after almost nine hours, you hear the first signs that the breakfast service is about to start. You hear the flight attendants gossiping. One of them says that you looked like Cupid while you were sleeping and that you could shoot him with your arrows. They obviously have no idea that you speak Spanish. You let them believe that you don't understand them.

Actually, you would have liked to have taken a closer look at Montevideo. But you don't have time for that. The season in Punta del Este is as good as over, so if you want to boost your mid-season business, you need a few pictures of the sunset. And you get paid quite well for boosting the mid-season business a little.

It's actually a bit too cold at the end of March for topless shots. But your nipples look even better this way. "End of a hot day, beginning of a hot night at the most beautiful end of the world" you write under the picture. 3K likes in half an hour. You are worth your money!