#you know he was thinking of bringing him back for miranda

[beemovieerotica]

why am I shipping Miranda / Billy? well. she deserves a little something in these trying times.

[seattlesellie]

ೀ spoiled. ( part one )

📞🕯️🎀 ₊˚⊹♡ “ baby , can you call me back ? i miss you … it’s so lonely in my mansion … “ 🧸🪽🍬

pairing: ellie williams x rich fem!reader

synopsis: the mansion you live in is getting too cold , the silence is way too silent , and not even reruns of sex & the city can help … long story short , you’re feeling lonely . wonder if you can think of someone in your contacts that can help and warm you up , a certain classmate perhaps ?

warnings: girly reader , kind of desperate loser ellie , bratty spoiled rich reader so don't read if that annoys you , allusion to smut , actual smut will be in the second chapter , this is dirty so mdni as usual !

an: i wrote this such a long time ago and it wasn't supposed to be two parts but well now it is !! i will start writing the second part if u guys want to so don't be shy in my inbox. not proofread unfortunately ♡

A perfectly manicured hand rests on the fluffy white and silky smooth duvet. the Egyptian cotton, to be exact, is nothing but lavish, a sanctuary of indulgence in the realm of your own private luxury. Then, you tap your nails atop it, and the fabric crinkles. You gently sigh, but it's more so a grumble, and reach over for the ‘Dunkin’ cup standing on your wooden bedside table. It perfectly matches every single one of the furniture in your extravaganza of a walk in closet, and the bed-frame as well. You take a slow, indulgent sip out of the icy cold drink, take an ice cube out with a straw, and gently suckle on it. You place the drink back on the table, shifting your gaze back over to the flat screen television.

Carrie forgave Mr. Big again, and now she’s seen frantically pacing around the streets of New York City in her shiny Manolo Blahniks. You arch your brows, humming in high pitched amusement. you have the exact same pair!

Carrie, Samantha, Charlotte and Miranda always seem to bring you a sense of comfort. Usually, your bed brings you a sense of comfort as well, and so does an icy drink with specifically eight cubes of ice. Your room smells like French vanilla, a tinge of cinnamon, and the sweetest pie you’ve never learned how to bake. Most of the time, you’d bask in the scent and feel nice, and cosy, and your nose would scrunch and your nostrils would flare out, then you’d open your favorite food delivery app and order a nice ol’ package of nine chocolate chip cookies. Then, you’d pop open a bottle of champagne and indulge yourself in the sweets deliciousness.

But your appetite is less existent than snow in the middle of August.

You’re also freezing cold, fuzzy socks and all — goosebumps rising on your skin and feeling sharp like Japanese knives.

Your best friend of a white home cat, Toodle, elegantly extends his supple frame, his lithe form gracefully ascending to nestle within the cradle of your neck. His bell gently dingles, he yawns and mellifluously meows. Right now, it sounds more like an old mans groan.

“I know, Toots… m’bored too. And cold, Jesus…” you mutter towards Toodles, who, in his usual aloof manner, closes his eyes and surrenders to the soothing hum of his purring. You puff some air out of your mouth, brain wheels turning as to find out what’s the cause of this blue mood. The air conditioning is completely turned off, you’re sure of it, and the fireplace crackles with warmth. Your entire moisturized body is covered up by a ridiculously expensive thick blanket, and it’s not the short VS nightie that makes you feel freezing, you’re convinced of that. For some reason, the frosty sensation persists. You smack your lip-glossed lips before bumping your head against your mountain of pillows, emitting a low grunt of exasperation.

You don’t know the reason for your boredom, or for this bum mood, because albeit you’ve seen this episode about a gazillion times, it never fails to entertain the shit out of your brain.

Maybe it’s due to the fact that you’re entirely alone (except for Toddles, of course, can't forget him) in a 10,000 square feet mansion. or perhaps it’s because the only lit room inside the mansion is your own.

But then you roll your eyes, because your parents are always away (at St. Tropez this time), so feeling alone isn’t a new and strange concept.

Alas, being alone isn’t the same as being lonely.

Your face twists at the depressing thought, ew. You’re not lonely, just… bored, and unamused, and the icy drink isn’t sweet enough and Carrie’s getting on your last nerve, and the 1,000 dollar blanket is starting to itch the hell out of your hyper-sensitive skin.

Which is why you get up from the bed in a moment of eureka, landing your feet against the fuzzy carpet and slide them into your Ugg’s. “Uh huh!” you chirp, you finally got it.

You’re experiencing an old friend of a feeling called (drumroll…) — anxiety, over your unfinished chem project! It must have masked itself in the form of frigidness and discomfort and loneliness.

But the project isn’t even due till next week, and you rarely get stressed over college stuff unless they’re due the next day and you’re sitting, staring down at your laptop screen, trying to communicate with it through telepathy or something of that sort.

Somaybeit’snotanxiety and maybeyou’rejustloney.

You shake away that uneasy and irritating thought, and sit your pretty butt down on the rolling chair. You click your shiny glittery pen (that always sheds some glitter onto your hand) and open up the thick as brick textbook.

You read the first question out loud.

The correct formula for aluminum nitrate is…

Valentino’s Lòco Toile Iconographe shoulder bag in hot pink?

Nope.

You shake your head, you have got to focus. You place your chin atop your palm and click the pen once more.

Al(NO2)3? or maybe it’s Al(NO3)3…

or maybe you’re so far off you need to close the book shut and throw it out of the window. You’ve always sucked at chemistry.

Which is why you were assigned to be tutored by that auburn haired, green eyed, slightly sullen, tatted up girl who went by "Ellie" — or "El", but you didn't know her like that.

Ellie, is the one who stuttered out your name as she realized you weren’t paying attention to her tutoring, as you had your gaze fixated on the black ink etched on her forearm, a half-covered flannel and a canvas of delicate veins. A bug, adorned with intricate botanical details, unfurled its wings across her skin.

“S’uh… A moth, with ferns around it n’stuff. It’s kind of faded now though”

Her voice was raspy and husky, and she stuttered out your name. Usually, you’d hate it when people got nervous around you. It made you feel odd, ostracized, and you always insisted — you were so damn sweet, there’s nothing to be nervous about. You wore sweet perfume, sweet as goddamn cherries and cupcakes, and your voice was soft and you always smiled brightly, and so what if your purse cost more than a college tuition?

But her nerves didn’t annoy you. In fact, you found them charming, and you found her sweet. You found that all of her “Uhhh” ‘s, and her “Mhhm” ‘s, all of her stammering and her lack of ability to keep eye contact with you to be… infatuating.

Then there was that rich voice, and those eyes, that smile, those hands, those damn toned arms, those biceps and the haircut, the way two short strands of hair always framed her face perfectly and her scent — that you could tell was just a cheap cologne, but mixed with her unique fragrance, proved nothing short of intoxicating.

It was also the fact that she seemed to damn know everything — and that she was always ahead of you, and that her face always bore that coy little smirk when you got a question wrong (which you seemed to get more often than not), and that she would grab your Swarovski pen out of your hand and scribble down the answer for you, just to explain it in detail later.

The way she licked over her bottom lip and bit as wrote down.

With her long fingers and all.

When she spoke, her breath smelled of mint and the faintest tinge of weed, which made you think of how lovely it must be to be able to transform into a damn joint just so she could place you in her mouth and suck —

now you’re sticky, and god now you really are distracted, and not by a cute purse or the sound of rain pouring down on your window. Toodles stretches his tiny limbs and you hear his bell faintly dingle again. He climbs down from your princess bed and jumps up to sit at your lap. You caress down his white fur and he purrs.

You wonder if Ellie likes cats.

You know she likes pussy.

You have got to get a grip.

You massage your temples, attempting to focus on the written down questions again, but the words and the numbers seem to mix into a cacophony of odd symbols and letters, and you’re still so goddamn cold.

Albeit your eyelids droop down slowly, eyes spazzing out of focus, the assignment must be done today.

“Just, finish the damn work and go to sleep. Yup.” You mumble to yourself, a habit you picked up as a result of being alone for most of your childhood, and having to opt for the help of imaginary friends to keep you comfort. Alas, you’re older now and only have yourself to talk to.

You try and follow your command.

The problem is, you don’t know jack shit.

You wish Ellie was here, with her hair sticking to her forehead and your pen in her hand and her old chuck’s glued to her feet, as she sits down on the spare chair aside you with her jaw resting on her knees.

You wish you could hear her faint chuckle as you get another question wrong.

As a tutor, of course.

Not even as a friend, because she’s not.

Definitely not as a lover, obviously, because that would truly be so far fetched from reality — although… right now, you can’t help but think of the way her eyes fall down to your chest as a crimson blush creeps up her cheeks.

And you keep thinking about the time you purposely let your bra strap cascade down your shoulder, just because you wondered how she’d react — Which was with averting her gaze to the side and clearing her throat. Now you think of the time you wore an extra short mini skirt, not that different from the rest of them although a bit tinier, and how you kept rubbing your thighs together just to see whether she’d notice or not, which she did…

You groan and slap your palm against your forehead.

Then, you stare at another question and then at your phone. Toodles chimes in with a high-pitched meow.

“Oh my gosh Toots, so true! I should text her the questions, duh”

You’re not delusional at all, by the way.

So you send her your address.

In the meantime, you make sure your studying environment and your room are as tidy as possible. You grab your sparkly pink pen and place it near the textbook, and you grab a matte black pen for Ellie as well, a thoughtful gesture.

You also apply some strawberry scented moisturizer on your body, and spray your sickly sweet perfume on your pule points.

You slip your feet out of your slippers, and you wear your favorite heels. However, you keep your little nightie on. You’re supposed to feel comfortable, this is your house after all, and the heels — are just a courtesy, you are expecting company, and opening the front door with house slippers is entirely rude, and the silky robe… It’s long enough and proper. Ish.

You stare at your reflection down the mirror, and for some reason, you feel utterly nervous. You’re all dolled up for a person who isn’t a stranger, but who also isn’t a friend. When you coat your lips with some minty gloss, Toodles stretches his tail upwards and meows.

“Psh. Do not judge me, Toots. This is normal, I do this all the time”

Which again is a total and complete white lie, because if it was a regular friend coming over, you wouldn’t have even bothered to fix up your makeup, and you’d barely even get up from the comfort of your own bed.

As a matter of fact, not many people come by your house at all. You have your fair share of friends, but you’d much rather hang out by the mall or at one of their mansions, yours always feels just, utterly suffocating — as giant and spacey as it might be. And sure, you’ve had hook ups before, but you always went rigid when they tried to slip past your panties, and you were always… dry, as an autumn leaf.

Ellie makes you feel anything but dry.

Physically — you shake your head and try getting rid of the thought by giving yourself some good old whiplash.

You find yourself pacing around your room, until you manage to cascade downstairs as soon as you hear the bell ring. With each step you take, your heel taps the lavish ceramic pavement.

“Stay”, you gesture towards your fluffy feline companion, who responds with a squinting of his eyes. “Don’t freak out our company”

You look at Ellie’s face from the intercom’s shiny screen. You look at it so hard you nearly forget to press on the button that’s purpose is to let your tutor-guest in. A couple of strands of her auburn bangs stick to her forehead. Ellie scratches her eyes with the back of her hands and she straightens up her spine. As she waits for the gate to open, she puffs some air from her cheeks. She attempts to fix her eyebrows with the tips of her fingers, and seems to be murmuring something underneath her breath.

You’re not the best at lip reading, but your gut tells you she just whispered a “Hi”, and added your name, then — “Hey” adding your name once more.

It’s absolutely impossible for her to not be aware of how stupidly and irritatingly cute she is.

You press on the button and clear your throat. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t practice your greeting in front of a mirror as well. Your robe cascades down your shoulder, you fixate on it and contemplate pulling up the fabric.

Toodles meows once more.

Yup. You should keep it down.

It takes Ellie a good five minutes to walk the full distance from the front gate to your huge white door.

Then she knocks three times on the wood, and you squeak like a mouse although you really were fully prepared.

Your tutor wears a blue flannel with a white undershirt tucked beneath. The first button is opened, revealing a tiny piece of her pale skin. Below, her legs are covered with tight skinny jeans with a tear on the knee (you’re not sure if she fell or if it’s done purposely so), and to your surprise — no Chuck’s, but Doc Martens.

Noted. She has more than one pair of shoes.

When you greet Ellie with a cheerful — yet ever so relieved and breathy “Hi”, you kiss her on the cheek like you do all of your friends, and you can smell that cheap cologne again.

Amber, citrus, musk, lavender.

There’s a hint of actual Ellie in the mix as well — smoke, herbs, sweat… did she run here?

When you hug Ellie you focus on her scent.

When you hug Ellie she focuses on absofuckinglutely nothing — Her body goes rigid and stiff and she doesn’t hug you back until two way too long seconds pass, and she finally manages to place her hand on your waist.

But she doesn’t hug or squeeze, she rests it there.

Then she coughs.

“Hey”

You take a step back and you can tell she’s a bit flushed, or flustered — but you take it as her just running. You lean your hand against one of the thick pillars. Her orbs travel frantically from your eyes down to your… legs, that are completely bare and smooth and shiny, then they run down to your feet, which are covered with heels…

You think she might say something about it, about you, how ridiculous you look, so you’re washed up with self consciousness and shyness which is something you rarely get to feel, unless you’re with that damn girl for some reason.

Then her eyes hyper-focus on… the ceiling?

You grant Ellie a half smile and you really yearn to break the silence — but she’s ahead of you. Again.

“It’s… you have a really high ceiling” she says, then immediately glues her eyes on to the floor.

“Uh, shiny floor…” she chuckles so freaking awkwardly, grazing the bottom of her left legs doc’s on the floor so it squeaks. Immediately, Ellie apologizes.

“Shit, sorry, my shoes fuckin’ muddy. I uh, ran here”

You gingerly smile and furrow your brows. You theory has been proven correct. “You ran?”

“Walked, like, not ran ran”

There’s the tiniest droplet of sweat on Ellie’s forehead, which she wipe’s swiftly and clumsily with the back of her hand when she notices your eyes scan it. Oh, she ran ran alright. You do feel a little bad, picturing Ellie’s shoes hitting below her ass as she runs through the streets of your city, with a packed and awfully heavy mauve backpack — smacking against her back with every step she takes. You almost pout, you’re still leaning against the pillar and you smack your lips together — gloss and all, out of habit.

“Could’a given you a ride, y’know” you light sweetly. Ellie’s scarred eyebrow arches up in response. “You have a license?”

You so want to shove her shoulder playfully, but you’re convinced it’ll make her go absolutely rigid again. Physical contact bricks her up — noted.

“Why is that such a surprise?” you flash her a teasing smile. She smiles back at you.

“S’just, thought you’d have a personal driver. Can’t really imagine you driving that monster of a Rover back there —“

You nod in complete amusement. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” Ellie teases, followed by a throaty chuckle. “Plus, took you more of a passenger princess type of girl”

And that sentence shouldn’t make you stutter the way you do next. It shouldn’t, but it does. You back away slowly and Ellie follows your footsteps.

“T-that’s, awfully presumptuous” you chirp. Her boots stomp on the floor and your heels click clack. “Plus, I don’t drive that Rover. My car’s in the garage with the rest of ‘em” you say matter-of-factly.

Ellie scoffs impishly behind you. You walk up the stairs and she follows suit. She’s confident when she teases, you think, which is a tad different than her usual awkward self, but if only you knew she nearly slipped down one of the steps as she noticed the tiniest, delicious, most precious piece of your flesh that was just exposed behind you as a result of your incredibly short nightie.

“Psh, so presumptuous”

As you walk towards your room, Ellie walks behind you although she has more than enough space to walk besides you. You get the feeling that she's nervous, even after her teasing and all, and you don't have to wonder why too much. Your house is huge, intimidating, filled with strange sculptures and paintings by obscure artists regular people have never even heard of. You don't have just one living room, you have three, and in each and every one of them stands a different technology piece of some sort. Also, your heels cost more than her outfit, could be more worth than the entirety of her damn closet, and most importantly — you're walking with a pink robe and some heels on.

When you reach your room, Ellie awkwardly smiles and straightens her muscular back. Then, she holds on to the straps of her backpack.

"First of all" you sigh, and now it's your turn to feel coy. "Thank you for coming over so late. I know it's like, absolutely ridiculous, and you know, you don't get paid for this so...", you flash Ellie an endearing smile, the apples of your cheeks rising sweetly as a humble thank you. "And, second of all... jus'... brace yourself?"

Ellie's brows arch up, but before she has time to ask — oh.

You both step into your lit room. Toodles follows by closely, entering the room as well, whilst rubbing his furry back against Ellie's calves.

"Yup..."

Ellie's fingers instinctively clasp onto the straps of her backpack once more, her eyes widening ever so slightly, but she fights to seem as unsurprised as she can — she fails miserably, because she gasps a little.

Your room is nothing but a... cotton candy dream world. A wall that's painted in pretty dusty pink, a princess bed that's nothing but a regal centerpiece. Above the bed, a canopy of gossamer silk drapes from a custom-crafted wrought iron frame, And the final sophisticated touch, a grand crystal chandelier, suspended from the ceiling. There are also clothes everywhere, empty water bottles, used sheet masks, a stack of books — some half-read, others forgotten, teetered precariously on a random corner. Ellie sticks out like a sore thumb. She stands out like a neon sign in a library, a skateboard at a black-tie gala.

You like it.

She clears her throat, stepping further into your room. "I take it black is your favorite color?" she titters sarcastically.

You giggle.

"Mhm, also I'm clearly very organized, and I hate clothes" you murmur and point out the pile of dresses haphazardly bunched in the corner of your room.

She should feel out of place. She should probably laugh, even sneak a pic — tell all her "cool" friends about how mindblowingly ridiculous the prissy rich girls room is. Instead, she thinks about how cute you must look cuddled up in a bed this big, how adorable it'd be to see your bed-head poking through the sheets at 8am, how sweet it must be to watch you skip around your room, trying on your shitload of clothes, throwing them in the air and huffing like a medieval brat of a princess. She wants to place a fucking tiara on your head. She sees your sticker collection from the corner of her eye, your vinyls, your candles, your crystals and Toodles' sofa.

And she likes it.

You take a deep breath. You shouldn't even care if she likes it or not, you shouldn't be bothered by it at all — you rarely are, but something inside of you yearns for... something.

"It suits you" she murmurs.

And that's certainly good enough, because it does.

You gesture Ellie to sit on the rolling chair next to yours, and her eyes still roam over the space of your room. “My room looks exactly the same, by the way… same uh, size too… n’stuffed animals… Shit, I like the elephant one”, she sarcastically remarks as she sits on the chair and hunches down, manspreading as she often does. Your eyes can’t help but roam down, because her damn thighs flexed under those jorts and you heard her, but you also kind of didn’t.

Ellie clears her throat and narrows her eyes. Jheez, she thinks, you must be absolutely exhausted since your eyes don’t seem to be able to focus.

“Huh?” you say, startled. You’re still standing up on those heels. Ellie sniffles and chuckles and her voice goes all quiet.

“Said pink nauseates me, that I hate those stuffed animals and that your elephant doll’s ugly as shit”

You roll your eyes and your tongue swipes over your glossy bottom lip. You bite it and you sit down on the chair. Ellie’s eyes scan over your chest and she averts her gaze like a deer caught in headlights.

“Hate you, chem tutor” you huff, resting your head on the palm of your hand. Ellie doesn’t maintain a second of eye contact but she chuckles and it’s cocky.

“You need me, and you need an A in chemistry”

You like that side of her.

You let your eyes blink lazily at her, a cheeky little smirk forming on your lips. When you open your mouth again, just to smack it on your glossy lips, you brush your leg ‘accidentally’ against hers, and rigid she goes. “Mhm, I definitely need you, Ellie…”

The apples of Ellie’s cheek shine in bright crimson and her hand flexes. She grabs her pen and clicks on it once. You didn’t mean it like that, she so obviously knows or believes, but it matters nonetheless. You like that side of her so much more.

You cross your pretty legs and let the tip of your heel graze her chair. “So, you want a drink before we start studying?”, you’re way too damn close, she nods — but she doesn’t need a ‘drink’ she needs a damn water fountain that directly flows onto her mouth and satisfies that damn drench. Is it possible for her damn knee to feel hot? Why is her knee feeling hot?

“Anything specific?”

“Jus’ waters fine” Ellie manages to murmur, lips forming a teeny tiny, shy, crescent smile.

“I was thinking more… like, wine? I have a wine cooler n’my room… if you wanted water i’d have to like, go downstairs and… It’s so lonely in there” your voice is saccharine, delicate, and it and coaxes Ellie’s mind.

“Wine’s perfect, I love wine” says Ellie.

She hates wine.

“Mhm, red or white?” — Your question comes when you lift your butt off the chair and walk slowly towards the cooler.

“Uh, r-red. S’much… richer” Ellie falters, remembering vaguely the time Joel had mentioned white wine’s for pussies. When she tried a red one, she gagged.

“Impressive” you note.

Ellie rolls the chair with the help of her heavy Doc's, and watches as you pour the red liquid into two delicate glasses. Your leg, she notices, is clad with a shiny, delicate golden piece of jewelry. Her eyes scan upwards, towards your bare thighs — the flesh is glistening, almost appearing as if it's covered with oil. Her mind drifts elsewhere, to a world in which your nightie is nothing but nonexistent, and those thighs...

Her stomach grumbles, she firmly holds onto it. Why NOW.

"Hungry?" you place the glass on the table, slightly nudging it towards Ellie.

She's starving.

you flash her a devilish smirk, cocking your head to the side.

"Oh, uhh... nope"

Famished.

[ranchracoon]

Soothing Touch

Alcina Dimitrescu x Reader

Requested by: lesb14n0

The slamming doors shakes the entire castle, followed by the stomping of heavy footsteps meaning the meeting did not go well. You look amongst the other staff who stare off toward the sound in horror, whenever the Lady is in a bad mood means one of them might die for the littlest mistake. The Lady curses as she walks through the main hall and you quickly motion for the other servants to make themselves scarce, not giving you enough time to also hide. The Lady bursts through the double doors into the main hall, he eyes scanning the surroundings until they land on you. 

"You" she orders. 

"Yes my lady?" You answer quickly, your entire body shaking viciously. 

"Draw me a bath and bring me a bottle. No one is to disturb me otherwise."

"Yes my lady" you bow your head and scurry off. 

At least she didn't slice you open but you take other precautions as well; grabbing her favorite vintage of blood wine, her cigarettes from the vanity, and her favorite red and gold engraved glass. You draw the bath, hot, just how she likes it and set the tray with her things beside the tub for her to easily reach. As you pour the thick liquid into the glass the door bursts open again making you almost spill from flinching. Thankfully you were raising the glass to finish the pour and didn't spill a single drop as the Lady undresses there in front of you. You avert your eyes but you can't help the blush that coats your face, she notices of course but says nothing. She doesn't have time for that. She steps into the bath and sighs heavily, holding out her hand and you instantly greet her with the glass. She takes a drink and sighs heavily, lowering her head back until it hits the edge of the tub and she makes a face. 

"Would you like a message?" You offer. 

Before you can shut yourself up, the words leave you as the Lady shoots her head up to glare at you. She looks you over once, then twice, before humming softly and nodding her head. You move the stool around to the head of the tub and roll your sleeves up, slowly working the muscles in her neck and shoulders. She sighs again, you can feel the muscles loosening as you work them, she grunts softly as you work a particularly stubborn knot. 

"This is just what I needed" she murmurs.

"Did the meeting not go well?" You ask. 

"Feeling brave today aren't we?" She says coyly before taking a drink, "but to answer your question no it did not. That fool Heisenberg somehow wormed his way to being Mother Miranda's favorite all of the sudden. What does he have that impresses her so?"

The Lady begins rattling on about her discontent and hatred for Heisenberg and Mother Miranda's apparent favoritism toward him. You say nothing except an occasional 'mhm' or any appropriate response to her hypothetical questions. Before you realize it, she's finished the entire bottle of wine, the water has gone cold, and your fingers ache to the point you think they'll fall off. The Lady stands from her tub and wraps a towel around her body, clearly more relaxed than before as she slightly turns toward you. 

"Thank you" she says softly, "you are dismissed."

"Anytime my lady" you bow. 

*          *          *

The Lady groans lowly, rubbing the back of her neck as she stares at the papers in front of her. She straightens her posture having realized how slump she became, and the crescendo of pops and cracks sends another groan out of her. She's stiff, sore, and frankly stressed beyond her mind over these reports. She's still trying to gain favor with Mother Miranda and seems to be going no where, on top of running a business. She stands and takes a cigarette out, putting it in her holder and standing out on the balcony of her private chambers. As she draws in a deep breath a thought occurs to her, she knows of someone in particular who could help her with her situation. She finishes her cigarette and closes the door before calling out for her oldest, Bela. 

"Yes mother" the blond says a moment later, appearing from her horde of flies. 

"Bring me Y/N would you?"

"Of course" she giggles. 

"Gently" the Lady warns. 

The blonde's enthusiasm faulters but she obeys her mother's command, searching the corridors until she finds you. Before you can react she has you by the arm and drags you away from your duties. Oh great. You did something to make the Lady angry and now she's going to serve you to her daughters. Bela weaves expertly until you arrive at the Lady's private chambers, she pushes the door open and tosses you inside, giggling wildly behind you. You stay kneeling on the ground looking up in the Lady's direction, your body trembles as you try everything to control your fear but your racing heart gives you away. 

"That will be all Bela" the lady waves her hand in dismissal. 

"Awe" the blonde whines before disappearing once again. 

"Y/N" the lady orders. 

You stand, "yes my lady?" You ask with as much courage as you can muster. 

"Will you...message my neck again?" She asks softly, looking away as if embarrassed to be asking a servant such a thing. 

"Oh, of course" you reply, your shoulders relaxing slightly. 

She sits on her chair in front of her vanity, setting her hat aside and pulling her curls out of the way to give you access to her neck. You bring over a stool to get some height then begin rubbing her neck once again like you did before. She sighs heavily and closes her eyes as you expertly loosen the tightly wound muscles. 

"Where did you learn this?" She asks. 

"My mother taught me."

"She taught you well, I've never been more relaxed."

"Thank you my lady."

"May I ask why?"

"She thought it would be a good skill to have when I got a husband. She often did it for my father after he worked the fields to appease him."

"But you wound up here instead" she says matter of factly.

"Willingly."

Her eyes open, their golden aura flashes in the light as they examine you predatorily, "you chose lifelong servitude, knowing you would be killed, instead of marrying?"

"I wouldn't want to be married to a man" you pause then widen your eyes "that I didn't love" you add quickly. 

The lady smirks, her smile lines visible in the mirror, as you lock eyes with her and finish up her message in silence. She dismisses you and watches you leave, tapping her chin in thought as she replays your answer in her head. 

*          *          *

It becomes a regular occurrence. Anytime the Lady is stressed or angry she seeks you out, and you willingly give her neck and shoulders a message. She gives you more privileges like later curfew when she's with you, even sharing meals with her on occasion. The Lady has grown rather fond of you; she enjoys the conversations she has with you, and of course your magical fingers. She allows you to go further and further until she's lying on her belly with her back entirely exposed to you and you working your magic throughout her upper body. This particular night begins like all the rest; she calls for you, and you come in a timely manner to give her a message. She sits at her vanity with her curls pulled aside as you work the tight muscles into submission but there's an eerie silence to you tonight. 

"Everything okay darling?" She asks. 

"Yes my lady" you respond quickly. 

Too quickly. 

She becomes suspicious, trying to engage you in topics that would normally leave a sparkle in your eye with excitement. Not tonight though, tonight you answer with one worded answers which only solidifies her suspicions. She abruptly stands and faces you, causing you to catch yourself on her dress to avoid falling from your stool all together. She takes your hand in hers, kneeling to your level as her face becomes taught and stern. 

"Y/N, you will tell me this instant what is the matter."

You swallow back the tears that threaten to spill from your eyes, you're not about to cry in front of your boss. All the pent up frustration boils over as you unleash upon her all the horrid things the other staff members have been saying about you. The special treatment you've been receiving, the late nights, the one on one time in your chambers, all of it fueling their sickening imagination. 

"Give me names. Now."

You shake your head, "it's not their fault. I can't say I wouldn't partake if the roles were reversed. I just wish what they said was true."

Your eyes widen as you cover your mouth, your entire body heats up with feverish heat and as if the Lady can read your mind, she prevents you from escaping. She blocks you in with her arm, tightening her grip on your hand as she leans herself closer to you, reaching up to remove your hands from your mouth. 

"Is that so?" She asks huskily. 

"Y-yes" you admit. 

"Well, if you won't give me their names, then perhaps you'll let me fulfill some of these...fantasies they've conjured. They're already saying it happened, why not make it come true."

Your eyes flash down to her lips then back to her eyes, she smirks widely as if that answers her question. She leans in to break the space between you and her, capturing your lips with her own. 

Master List

[filthyslashertoad]

Spending the Holidays with Slashers & Misc.

(I was having trouble posting this so it's a bit late. I also might make a pt.2 if I can think of more things)

Michael Myers

Doesn't acknowledge it as a real holiday.

Get's pissy because everyone leaves home to go on vacation and there's no one to kill.

As soon as one kid mistakes him for a pale Santa he just heads home and calls it a night.

Billy Loomis

Spends the night before Christmas stressing out trying to figure out how to wrap a present(So does Stu by affiliation)

When you come downstairs in the morning you can tell which present is yours because there's a copious layer of tape around each box.

Stu also abought you a basketball so don't even ask how he wrapped that.

Hannibal Lecter

As soon as it hits December 1st, the house is decorated head to toe in Christmas decorations.

Best believe there will be Rum cake and a lot of it because he started making it in January.

Doesn't do ugly sweaters.

Has never watched the Grinch and doesn't plan to.

Bo Sinclair

Wraps a bow around his beer and calls it a day. (Just kidding)

Spends all of Christmas day baking a ham that he's been dreaming about since February. (Even though he bought the ingredients last second)

Doesn't know what to get you for Christmas so while he's at the store doing last-second shopping he buys you your favorite drink and a card with a duck dressed as Santa on it.

Brahms Heelshire

Wakes you up in the morning with a very special breakfast. (It's a pb&j with a glass of milk except there wasn't enough milk so it's half water and half milk)

Still thinks that Santa is real.

Patrick Bateman

Forces you to wear matching pajamas and do a photo shoot with him to send out to everyone because "you're such a loving couple!"(Forgets to book a photographer and ends up having to get it done in a Kohls)

For Christmas he buys you a set of your very own business cards that say "Patrick Bateman's wife, Y/N" on them and a bottle sugar-free champagne. (He's so proud of himself for this gift btw)

Lady Dimitrescu

She's a girl mom to the max, meaning everyone is getting presents in perfectly wrapped paper with a cute note in cursive saying how much she loves you.

100% would sit back with a glass of wine while watching everyone open their presents.

Heisenberg

He makes a tree out of metal scraps and wakes you up by shouting, "Hey! Watch this!" as he electrocutes the entire tree, causing the very wooden ground underneath it to catch on fire.

Claims that the Lycans still believe in Santa.

Has them dress up in elf suits and has them run around the entire village harassing Miranda and the rest of his siblings.

Carlos Oliveira

Buys 400$ worth of Chinese food and calls in sick for the next week because of it.

He's the type of person who would send a video of himself singing "It's Timeee~" to the entire group chat at 12am on Christmas Day.

Sends out a calendar for the New Year to the ENTIRE company except every month is a different photo of him. (HR has gotten involved but they have yet to stop him)

Leon Kennedy

Says that he doesn't like Christmas and that it's his least favorite holiday. (Liar)

Tries spiked eggnog and sugar cookies for the first time and then it all changes.

Shows up to the station wearing a new ugly Christmas sweater each day(Somehow he gets Carlos and Chris in on it too).

Brings candy canes with him when he goes out on patrol to hand out to kids.

Hellboy

Spends his holiday rewatching the original Grinch and going shopping in World Market. (I feel like he'd love Marzipan and Fruit Cake)

Every Christmas he always buys everyone in the Bureau (besides Myers) their favorite bar of chocolate and hands them out at the annual Christmas party.

He's also made it a thing where he dresses up as Santa and goes to the Psych ward to visit the patients(and sometimes Liz).

[christianbalesblueadidas]

routine surveillance

batman x f!reader

a certain vigilante likes late night tv. but instead of the tonight show on his big television set at home, he watches you through your window.

warnings: NSFW, minors DNI (18+), masturbation (f), voyeurism, stalking, sex toys

word count: 1.1k

a/n: can be any batman you want but i'm a bale bat stan and i've noticed how stalker-y he is towards his love interests in his trilogy so... (too bad he didn't stalk miranda tate. could've saved him a stab wound.)

For his sanity and his morals, Batman rationalizes that stopping by your apartment window every night is just a routine background check. He only snoops on you for five minutes every night in the middle of patrol to see if you're a serious threat to him. Sometimes, on quiet nights, he watches you through your bedroom window for more than five minutes — of course, only to see if you're planning anything nefarious.

It has become part of his nightly routine when he goes on patrol. And it's becoming a bad habit. It's become so predictable by now.

Night after night, he finds himself standing outside your apartment's window, peeking through the curtains to see if you are doing anything suspicious.

Every time he thinks to himself that these midnight checkups are just part of his nightly routine and necessary to make sure you aren't a threat. Every other time, he can't help but admit the fact that he's becoming obsessed with keeping tabs on you.

Throughout the entire two weeks he has been surveilling you, you have done nothing of note. Nothing at all. But that doesn't stop Batman. He reasons that it's for Gotham's safety, not his personal stalker tendencies when a woman interests him.

Tonight is another one of those quiet nigts. He crouches on the rooftop of the building next to yours, looking through your bedroom window. You never close the curtains because you never thought anybody would be able to look in due to its height.

He watches as you read a novel under the dim, warm light of your bedside lamp. It's one of those cheap romance books that are filled with cliches and dirty scenes — something light to read before bed. You sigh, closing the book and slamming it onto my nightstand. You've clearly grown tired of it.

But you don't want to sleep yet. However, you're still very bored. With another sigh, you throw your blanket off your legs. You slide your underwear from under your oversized shirt, much to his shock.

All those other nights, he would keep his composure. But this time, he felt as if his mind was getting clouded. He is frozen in place, unable to tear his eyes away from you as he continues to watch with bated breath.

Is this the kind of man Batman is? It is, apparently, as he continues to be a peeping tom. He is many things: Gotham's dark knight, a caped crusader, a vigilante. And now, he can add one more thing to his resume: pervert.

He stares as you pull a pale skin-colored dildo out from your nightstand drawer. It's a decent size but still big. You're not unrealistic, he takes note. He never thought you'd be the kind of woman to own one, but he's finding out many things about himself and you tonight.

Your back is turned to the window, and in consequence, to him. You have no way of knowing that he is watching you. He can't see your expressions either.

You bite your lip as your position the toy on your hands and knees. You rub it along your slit to spread your juices on it, lubing it up. He can clearly hear the soft noises coming out of your mouth because of the tech in his cowl.

When you finally think you're ready, you begin to push the toy inside you, a long, drawn out moan escaping your lips. A hand on its base to keep it still on your mattress, you bounce on it, airy whimpers and moans spilling from your mouth.

He can't see much from the angle and because of my oversized shirt. But he can hear everything as you ride your toy, all thanks to his cowl. Despite his iron will and morality, he can't bring himself to even turn off the audio feed.

He should leave.

His conscience keeps telling him to just jump off the roof and take off with his grapple gun. He should. He really, really should.

He knows he should go now, but something is keeping him in place. His body won't move, his eyes unable to look away from you as the heat inside him keeps building up.

Why isn't he leaving?

He knows he needs to go, but the sight of you moving above your toy, your soft moans filling his ears like sweet poison. He can't bring himself to leave, his body slowly filling with want and desire.

His gloved hand slowly moves to grip onto the roof, his knuckles turning white from the grip as he fights the urge to move closer to the window. He knows he can't. That he shouldn't. But he wants to.

You slowly fall on your front, your face hitting the pillows. Your ass is now up in the air, giving him an explicit show. Your hand that used to hold the toy in place is now moving it, pumping it in and out of you in a languid pace. In consequence, the change in position has Batman seeing the toy stretching you out, wetness dripping down your thigh.

He is gripping onto the roof so hard, he's breaking the tiles. It's taking all of his will power not to just jump down through your window and give you what you need.

But he won't, he can't.

He is the symbol of justice. The one who fights for righteousness and order.

But god, hearing those desperate moans and your sloppy pussy is just driving him to the brink of madness. He is close to the point where he can't take it anymore. His cock is getting so hard that it's uncomfortable in his suit, confined by the rough armor.

The noises coming from your room are sloppy and wet, the sound of the toy slipping in and out of you mingling with your needy little moans and whimpers and gasps. You press your face onto the pillows a bit harder as your hand quickens the pace it thrusts the toy. He can see all of it, glistening flesh stretching around the pale skin-colored silicone.

Suddenly, your whole body quivers and pauses, thick fluid dripping down onto the mattress. He hears you let out a deep moan, a sound akin to relief. You let go of the toy and it quickly falls onto the small puddle on the sheets. He watches your flesh twitch and glisten around nothing and he wishes it's around his cock instead.

Then, his nightmare comes true.

You look back from your position and your eyes meet. You've been fully aware that he's been spying on you. And you've been wishing that dildo was his cock too.

What a pervert, you think about Batman — as you bite your lip and beckon him to join you inside with a come hither motion.

[inndelibles]

Thinking about why Cove had such a hard time getting along with Baxter besides the obvious "he's too direct and flirty and talks funny" thing. Honestly, I think it's that Cove can't get a read on Baxter, and that makes him uncomfortable.

Cove has always been blunt, and even though he's developed more tact as he's grown up, he still values honesty and being genuine as some of the most important things when it comes to people. That's why he vibes so well with MC after all; they've known each other since they were young and MC is always real with him, so he knows he can be real with them too.

Terry and Miranda also fit well with this. Miranda has always been genuine but she's also shy so it might've been difficult for her and Cove to connect, but Terry and his bombastic self helped bring them together. Yeah, Terry is loud and extroverted and a little cooky (I say affectionately bc we stan Terry in this house), but he's real. All those quirks he has are just a part of him, and Cove can see that.

So when Baxter shows up, perfect and cheerful and poised like he doesn't have a care in the world, Cove feels something off. We know that the Baxter Cove first meets is a Baxter that has curated his own image, erasing all of his own flaws and ignoring the parts that make him him. He doesn't let people know what he's really feeling, instead choosing to present someone laid-back and happy about everything. Of course, Cove doesn't know this, but I think he can sense it subconsciously. This black-and-white man he's talking to is putting up a front, and Cove doesn't like that he can't see past it.

And you know what? He is so valid in that.

But I also think that's why he starts to warm up to Baxter in step 4. In the wedding dlc at the end of the reception, he initiates a hug and asks if they're friends, to which Baxter accepts and that makes Cove happy. And in Baxter's dlc, after he apologizes to everyone after the Adams' wedding, Cove smiles and is perfectly willing to start over. 18-year-old Cove would never do any of that for 19-year-old Baxter unless absolutely forced to.

And I think that change has less to do with Cove (though I'm sure his growth helped a little) and more to do with Baxter. In each of those instances, Baxter shows his real self, shows his real emotions, lets himself be vulnerable. The facade is gone, and Cove appreciates that Baxter is finally being genuine.

[aethelwyneleigh27]

Resident Evil Village characters with a chubby fem s/o

Dating Headcanons (+ Some bonus drabbles for a few)

Including Alcina Dimitrescu, Karl Heisenberg, Donna Beneviento, Salvatore Moreau and Mother Miranda

(Reader is somewhat coquette? Princesscore? Just the dainty feminine type)

Credits to dividers used are on this post.

Rules for requests

If you don't want to send requests through Tumblr, my Instagram is always an option.

Please interact with this post as much as possible, it helps a lot. Thank you <3

A/n: Hi lovelies, Lia here. I'm back after a long time. I hope you enjoy this post and I'll be setting up my schedule soon, I'll be posting once or twice every 1-2 week/s. If you can't tell, purple has always been my theme. I'll add more to these and edit it if I think of more to add. Any mistakes will be corrected upon checking.

This is just me but I love the concept of like a girl who is so sweet and her style just looks so fem and she's just surrounded by all the creepy things that are resident evil.

I'll be checking and if this post does well I will write more.

Warnings/Disclaimers: English is not my first language so please don't come after me. Blood, gore?, violence, typical resident evil stuff and mentions of insecurity. Slight suggestive content if you squint.

Alcina Dimitrescu

First of all despite your plush stature, she still treats you like a porcelain doll.

She just adores you so much (I mean she herself is tall and plus size).

Motherly nature and all, she has three daughters and honestly if she ever sees you interact with them. It would just warm her cadou infested heart.

Insecure about stretch marks? She'll kiss that shit away right then and there. She'll even show you hers because let's be honest here stretch marks are beautiful, you just don't like them on yourself.

Anyone insults or talks shit about you? She'll get rid of them, in any way possible depending on what they said. She'll pick a suitable punishment for them, ranges from "you're fired" to "I'm going to skin you alive and tear your heart out".

Alcina is a confident and dominant figure, she isn't swayed by something so small as beauty standards. Especially in herself, therefore I think she'd even help you build your confidence up.

Gifts galore with this woman, she love to spoil you with her riches. Loves to see you adorned with luxurious items that she give you.

Love dressing up with you, seeing you all dolled up for her. Has custom made clothes for you, sometimes opts for an outfit that matches or contrasts yours perfectly.

Knows what compliments your features best since she loves to bring them out.

Her hosting soirees and balls with you as her special guest, having you wear elegant dresses that she bought for you.

I see her as this almost touchy type. She'll love having you curl up on her lap while she gets paperwork done.

Her reaction seeing you in a dress that you wanted to show off to her:

You called Alcina's attention wanting to see her reaction to the new dress you bought, Alcina's eyes lit up at your elegance and charm. She smiled warmly, taking your hand in hers. "You look enchanting, my darling," she purred, proud to have you by her side.

Karl Heisenberg

Stinky metal dilf here actually loves that you're so soft in contrast to his gruff and abrasive nature.

He hasn't had physical affection in a long time so having someone soft and warm to hold is new to him.

Karl is naturally protective over you, especially because he thinks you're fragile. I mean compared to whatever's in the village, the rest of the lords and Mother Miranda.

I bet you this man has tore down someone for you, he chopped them off limb by limb for insulting you.

I can't get enough of the dynamic you'd have. It's like the grumpy x sunshine trope, this man has a sharp tongue. Especially when you hear him insult Lady Dimitrescu.

This man has a soft spot for you, I'm pretty sure you're the only one who can make him take a bath after being all sweaty from working with machinery all day.

I feel like he has scars all of his body, especially his very toned back.

Doesn't mind you leaving scratches when you're in the bedroom

Alcina sometimes tries to piss him off by commenting at the fact that you are soft and dainty while Karl is just the opposite and offers you an opportunity to be with "Someone refined" (She ain't wrong).

It really is just to get to Karl's nerves.

His reaction seeing you in a dress that you wanted to show off to him:

Karl smirked, trying to play it cool, but you could see the admiration in his eyes. "Not bad, princess," he teased, pulling you into a hug. He whispered softly, "You're somethin' special, ya know?"

Donna Beneviento

You know Donna understands what it's like being insecure about looks but to her you're just perfect in every single way.

Donna just doesn't give a shit in a good way, she doesn't judge people based on their appearance. It's dumb and shallow.

Donna would absolutely adore making clothes for you or altering your current ones. It's a skill she's proud of and seeing you appreciate it makes her all the more in love with you.

Angie has made a few comments resulting in her getting kicked off into space but once Donna warms her about that and how you don't like it, she'll stop in respect towards you. Which is rare considering how Angie is.

Donna's personal style definitely helps contrast yours, though it's the opposite from your soft light colors.

Thinks you're so pretty, she's smitten. Even though yours are different from you, she still makes use of her skills to fit your clothing tastes.

I can just imagine her staring at you in awe as you spin around and show her how the dress she made fits you. I like to think she has your measurements memorized from head to toe.

She take one look at something and already know how it would fit on you or if she needs to alter.

You once asked her to make a doll that looks like the both of you (and Angie but like a smaller version that fits the doll's arms).

Donna entered your shared bedroom to find you but noticed something on the shelves. It was the dolls she made sitting against the book. She noticed how you positioned them. Holding hand while the tiny Angie replica was on the doll version of her's lap. Donna swore at that moment she was gonna melt.

Her reaction seeing you in a dress that you wanted to show off to her:

Donna's expression softened as she saw you in the vintage lace dress. She held your hand, wordlessly conveying her affection and admiration.

Salvatore Moreau

God so help him, he was flabbergasted when he first heard about your insecurity. Literally why? Like you are just the most beautiful thing that walked the planet in his eyes.

He just worships the ground you walk on, he isn't as wealthy as the other lords but still, he give you his best efforts by carving you small trinkets out of wood.

Gifts you natural things he finds like crystals and whatnot.

Best of efforts when he comforts you. Sometimes he's too scared to physically touch you because he thinks he'll hurt you.

You're relationship is filled mostly by nature, despite the wasteland that surrounds your living area. It's hauntingly beautiful in it's own way. (Some of it I suppose)

Feels more at ease around you, think about how much he wanted to just make Mother Miranda proud of him, he's that with you but 10x more the effort.

His reaction seeing you in a dress that you wanted to show off to him:

Salvatore couldn't contain his delight at seeing you in the dress. "You're my beautiful water nymph princess!" he exclaimed, spinning you around with excitement.

Mother Miranda

You peeked her interest when she first saw you, I mean you're her complete opposite. She finds beauty in dark items and almost gothic stuff, so her taking an interest to you just made her even more curious.

She works a lot so gifts and trinkets to remind you of her are an occasional thing. I can just imagine you taming crows and she's just in awe.

Loyalty of crows means they leave you shiny trinkets and sometimes Miranda takes them for herself when she likes whatever they bring.

Again she's one to think you're fragile because of your style, you just look so cute and soft.

Nobody dares insult you, I mean if you really won the heart of Mother Miranda they are fucked if they even speak a little out of line.

Likes to keep you by her side despite working a lot. So you'd often be by her side during her meetings with the four lords and honestly you are such an eye candy.

Her reaction seeing you in a dress that you wanted to show off to her:

Mother Miranda's composure remained regal, but her eyes showed approval. "You look exquisite" she acknowledged, holding your hand with reverence. To her, you were a jewel among mortals, deserving of admiration.

[theaawalker]

I Promise [Finnick Odair x Reader]

Pairing: Finnick Odair x Reader Song Inspo: About You Now by Miranda Cosgrove Word Count: 829 Series: 1 | 2 | ? Summary: a day of fishing brings reminiscence for you and Finnick. District 4 never felt like home, but you've always had each other. Finnick has his soul mark, as do you, but that doesn't change anything. You know he'll find someone better, but nothing is promised in District 4. Warnings: none Masterlist: see fandoms (pc-friendly)

You loved fishing with Finnick. He was so good at it and you were very impressed. You also didn’t mind diving into the water as deep as you could to catch his eye.

It was like any other day, Finnick would cast out the nets and spear what he could and you would dive in to retrieve the nets. You had been doing this since you were kids and this was the first time Finnick wasn’t wearing a shirt. So let’s just say you were a little more distracted than usual.

As he pulled back his trident you watched his back muscles and noticed something. On his shoulder was a seashell tattoo. But this wasn’t any ordinary tattoo. It was a soul mark.

You looked down at your wrist and pulled your shell bracelets off to reveal a seashell soul mark identical to Finnick’s. He was your soul mate.

“What’s wrong?” He called to you. “What are you looking at?”

“Nothing.” You said shaking your head. “I didn’t know you had a soul mark”

He looked over his shoulder. “Yeah. Do you have one?” You shook your head and he shrugged. “It’s too bad, I haven’t found her yet”

“Yeah, what a shame.” You sighed and turned to the setting sun. “Listen, we have to finish up.” You said, running and diving into the water.

You loved Finnick, but he deserved better. He was amazing and you were, well, you. He didn’t know you were his soul mate and it’s very possible for a soul mark to disappear when circumstances change. There had to be someone better to be his soul mate and that is what you would hold out for.

As you swam to the surface you were met by Finnick’s sea blue eyes staring back at you. His hands wrapped around your waist and pulled you close.

“My little fish was underwater for a very long time. Are you ok?” He asked concerned.

“Yeah” You nodded pushing yourself away from him. “I have to go” You said swimming to shore.

After the next few months despite your best efforts you fell more and more in love with Finnick everyday. You tried to stay away from him but it was almost impossible. Oddly enough you thought that maybe Finnick was in love with you too.

You were fishing one day again when Finnick spoke up. “You know I don’t think this soul mate stuff is true. I mean how can a mark on my body that matches someone else mean I love them. What if I already love someone else”

You couldn’t tell if you were upset or relieved so you nodded. “Well I don’t have to worry about it”

“I just wish I wasn’t carrying this on my back” He paused. “Get it?”

“Ha, ha” You said splashing him with water.

“Oh, you want to do that do you?” He said charging at you and knocking you backwards and into the water with him on top of you and your back against the sandy bottom.

When you both came to the surface you laughed but Finnick’s face turned serious.

“Are you nervous for the reaping next week?” He asked, breaking the happy moment.

“I don’t know.” You said shrugging. “I always wonder what are the odds.”

He nodded and looked off into the distance. “Yeah... I suppose.”

“Come on.” You said pulling him up. “It’s almost dark”

The next week went by and Finnick seemed distant. He was really worried about the reaping. You weren’t sure if he was right to be, but today would be the day to find out.

You dressed in your best blue dress and braided your hair back in a single fishtail braid. Sadly, you couldn’t meet up with Finnick before, but you would see him after. You hoped.

After you were all lined up in the square that’s when your nerves finally hit. You fidgeted with your dress and tried to crane your neck to catch a glimpse of Finnick. To your despair he was nowhere to be found.

As they drew the girl’s name you breathed a sign of relief when it wasn’t you. When they got to the boys you crossed your fingers it wasn’t Finnick.

“For the boys!" The woman called out. “Finnick Odair!”

“No...” You whispered. You watched in horror as Finnick walked up to the stage. “No!” You said running up after him the guards in quick pursuit. You grabbed his hand and gave him a hug. That was all you had time for before the guards were tearing you apart.

Finnick still had your arm and through all the grabbing and pulling your sleeve pulled up revealing your soul mark. Finnick saw it immediately. “I knew it was you. Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked desperately.

“I’m sorry.” You said as you were finally pulled away.

“I will come back to you!” He yelled as he was dragged into the justice building. “I promise!”

• ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ •

Check out my upcoming high-fantasy series

If you enjoyed this imagine :

follow me 🫂 like 👍 comment 🗨 repost 🔄

If you have an imagine request :

ask❓️AND tip 🪙

[fluentmoviequoter]

You Know I Love You

0.5k+ words of you stressing Deacon out by not saying "I love you" back.

“That’s not right,” you murmur. “He didn’t even read her Miranda rights.”

“Are you still watching this show?” Deacon questions, chuckling as he returns from the kitchen with your favorite drink.

“I thought it would get better,” you defend. “It hasn’t.”

“So, you’re going to turn it off now?”

You shrug, and Deacon shakes his head in amusement.

“I’ll be back in a few hours,” he promises.

Deacon places his hand on the back of the couch and leans down to kiss you. As he stands, you click the remote and begin the next episode.

“Don’t,” Deacon warns. “You’ll regret it. I’ll be back in a few hours.”

“I won’t,” you assure him. “I’m giving it five more minutes. Ten maybe.”

Deacon slides his phone into his pocket and retrieves his keys from the table beside your door.

“I love you,” he says as he opens the door.

“See you when you get back,” you reply.

Deacon pauses in the open doorway and watches you. You’ve never hesitated to tell him how you feel; you said I love you first and kissed him a minute ago, so he knows you aren’t mad at him.

“Want me to bring dinner back?” he asks.

“I was actually thinking we could cook,” you say, turning to face him. “If you want.”

“Sounds good.” With your attention on him, Deacon tries again. “I love you.”

“Be safe.”

“Yeah… Text me if anything comes up, okay?”

You nod, and when Deacon says, “I love you,” again, you smile and turn to sit properly again.

Deacon drops his keys onto the table again and closes the door. He walks around the couch and then drops to sit directly beside you.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“Yeah, of course,” you promise. “Just wondering what these writers were thinking.”

“Can I get your full attention for three seconds?” Deacon requests.

You pause the show and smile, leaning toward him as you nod. “I’m all yours,” you say.

“I love you,” Deacon says slowly, intentionally.

“I know.”

Deacon’s brows raise, and his shock is evident. You can’t take it then, laughing as you fall forward into his lap.

“I’m so sorry,” you force through your laughter. “I just wanted to see your reaction.”

Deacon raises your hand to his chest, and your amusement turns to guilt when you feel his heart beating rapidly.

“I’m sorry, Deacon,” you repeat, sitting up and taking his hands. “I love you - you know that.”

“Well, I thought I did, but then I said it a half-dozen times and you just asked about dinner.”

“Dinner with you!” you point out. “It was stupid; I really didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Say it again,” Deacon requests.

“I love you, Deacon.”

Deacon sighs, kisses your forehead, and then stands.

“Although, after a kiss like that, I shouldn’t have to tell you,” you joke.

“I will be back in a few hours,” Deacon says again, and you can tell he’s fighting not to smile. “And I hope for both of our sakes you are in a better mood.”

“I’m in a great mood when the man I love is here,” you flirt.

“Yeah, yeah,” he murmurs as he opens the door.

“I’ll see you later with food!” you call. “Love you!”

“I know."

[littledeathdove]

Little Mother Miranda Headcanons

From the state of how her laboratory looked in the game shows that she is most likely messy. I will say that she is clean for the most part, but I believe that after certain documents and papers lose their value she loses them and they eventually end up…somewhere. She doesn’t want to get rid of them just in case she will need later on.

She can draw and does it really good, I mean she literally had like a whole table dedicated to drawing. I believe she would draw things she finds interest in, and that she also draws little drawings of moments she shared with Eva in the corner of papers.

Her voice softens when she talks about Eva, it’s not completely noticeable since Miranda doesn’t mean to do it, it’s a unintentional thing. Unless you’re actively paying attention to her, you won’t be even able to notice it.

She doesn’t have many interests, and her interest is hard to earn AND keep. Simply because her mind is always on two main things, her dear daughter and advancing her knowledge on the mold. So when something does somehow catch her interest, she tends to become obsessed with it. Like badly obsessed, and this doesn’t shy away from people too.

She doesn’t talk much unless she is giving out speeches to villagers, or talking to the lords. But she does talk likely a lot when it’s about scientific topics, especially the mold.

Miranda can cook, and she does it very well. Cause when she was still a mortal and Eva was still alive, Miranda didn’t have a steady income source, so money was almost always small. Meaning she had to cook with whatever she was able to afford. Which led to her becoming good at making random ingredients into a delicious meal.

Miranda is the closest to Donna out of all the lords. Out of all the other lords, Donna is the only one who will ever be able to spend a peaceful moment with Miranda without it involving something of business. Miranda also enjoys Donna’s nature to stick to the shadows and not cause any problems.

Miranda also ordered Donna to make multiple dresses and also a few dolls in the past. Both items show the luxury of materials and the beauty of time put into them. These items are for Eva when Miranda brings her back. The reason they are so luxurious is that Miranda wasn't able to afford such things for Eva when she still had her due to her being a peasant during her mortal hood.

I have this funny idea that Miranda only prepared things that Eva would ever want when Eva returns, and not things she would need. For instance, Miranda doesn't have an actual house for Eva and herself to live in once Eva comes back. She just didn't think that far when it came to the whole rebirth. And one could blame it on the fact she is always too engrossed in her research to think of all of it.

Miranda doesn't know how to flirt. She was the one getting flirted with in the past when it truly mattered. But now Miranda is the big, powerful woman who most people fear so no one is going to be stupid enough to do such a thing now. This means if she now catches some type of romantic attraction to someone, she is going to have to be the one to initiate it. This is horrible for poor Miranda cause her flirting would make the person believe they are next to be killed instead of giving them butterflies.

Eva does come in her dreams, and no she doesn't appear in Miranda’s dreams, but Eva's soul purposely comes in her mom’s dreams. It is the real reason why Miranda has such strong faith in the mold to bring her daughter back. Sometimes Eva tells Miranda riddles, that Miranda always forgets in the morning or doesn't understand.

Miranda was forced to marry Eva’s father, but I wouldn't say the marriage was horrible. Eva’s father was a kind man and had died due to the same sickness that took his daughter. Unfortunately, he was the reason Eva caught the Spanish Flu since he passed it on to her before his passing. Miranda had a hatred towards him for many years because of this, which is also the reason why she doesn't work to bring her daughter and her father back.

Miranda finds it funny to annoy people or piss them off. She especially does this toward the lords because they are her easiest targets. Miranda finds it most funny to secretly annoy Alcina since Alcina gives the best reactions to being annoyed, except for Karl. Karl is her second favorite to annoy since he keeps his anger within, and it looks like he is a vibrating machine with how his body trembles out of annoyance from Miranda’s antics. Moreau is her least favorite because he just whines when he ever notices Miranda purposely annoying him. Miranda doesn't even know how to annoy Donna when that veil is in the way of seeing Donna’s reactions, so Miranda just gives up on that most of the time.

Miranda had forgotten part of Eva’s face for some time until Eveline was created, and Miranda finally remembered Eva’s full face from looking at Eveline’s.

Also after she remembers, Miranda takes a day to sketch out Eva's face as much as she can. Doesn't matter what type of paper or what type of writing utensil, Miranda would sketch her baby’s face out with whatever she can get her hands on at the moment as long as it helps her not forget ever again.

Miranda has been a tad bit…unhinged since she was mortal. It’s probably due to how she looked in that picture when she was holding baby Eva that I believe this. I don't know if it's just me but it just looks like she would do some outlandish shit if you give her a good reason to do so.

Like come on, look at her eyes.

Those don't look like crazy eyes to y'all? Just me? Okay 😔

Miranda forgot like a lot of her memories, the only ones she remembers is her favorite ones with Eva. And that’s only because she draws them — well sketch’s them — during her free time.

Am I tying this headcanon due to Miranda having short hair which means she probably cut it?

Yes.

(If you don’t understand, it’s because of the theory, I believe it is, that when you cut your hair, you are cutting off memories of your past.)

ANYWAY THATS ALL MY CURRENT HEADCANONS 😋🫶🏾 this is me also clearing out drafts since it’s been here for a longgg time.

[wheelsupimagine]

Meant to be -Spencer Reid x Fem!reader

Pairing: Spencer Reid x FemReader

Word count: 3.2k words

Warnings: mentions of s3 e16 and s4 e24, angst and fluff

Summary: A case reminded Spencer of his past and you the only friend he had in high school, what if one day you two meet again in DC.

Being a resident genius had its favors, the team bets everything on him and he could always retrieve this but this case was different, it was difficult it got personal.

His edict memory is a blessing but not when a case like this reminded him of his past - Alexa Lisbon.

Then he wished he could forget everything for once in his life, but he will always remember.

When Spencer stepped out of the plane, he felt like he could breathe again, but his mind still raced - this case was an emotional roller coaster for him and the best way for Spencer to calm down was to go to his favorite bookstore.

The moment Spencer stepped into the bookstore he felt relieved, the familiar smell of old books and fresh coffee felt like home and no other person was in sight.

"Hey Spencer though case?!" Miranda the owner of the shop asked.

"Hey Miranda, yeah it was."

"Okay, your coffee will be ready in a bit, the bookstore is almost empty just one more person is here."

Spencer nodded but he was surprised that someone else would be here at this time still Spencer didn’t let himself bother knowing he would probably not even find this person.

Spencer left Miranda and made his way deeper into the bookstore. He was so invested in finding a new book, that he totally forgot about his coffee till he heard his name being called.

"Spencer Reid?" A stranger called his name

He turned his head and then he saw you.

Y/N Y/L/N.

What Spencer didn’t tell Derek was, who got him down from the goalpost back then - it was y/n, after that night you two spent more time together - Spencer could always come to you, and you two never talked about his problems and struggles because when he was with you it didn��t matter, once or twice he talked with you about his mom but mostly he just enjoyed your company and felt like a decent kid with a friend.

When he graduated high school, he never looked back but after 14 years you stand now in front of him right here in this bookstore in DC.

"Miranda asked me if I could bring you your coffee before it gets cold." You said and pointed at his coffee in your hand.

"My god Spencer, I can’t believe it’s you." You continued.

"Thank you y/n." Spencer took the coffee from you.

"It’s been a while, you look good by the way."

Spencer blushed, but he didn’t say anything back.

"Ähm yeah it was nice to see you again, I don’t want to bother much longer." As you attempted to leave, Spencer stopped you.

"Actually I could use some company if you like… Only if you want to obviously, I would understand if you don’t want to…" Spencer

rambled, but you stopped him.

"I would love to keep you company Spencer."

You two sat down and drank your coffee and talked. Spencer found out that you moved here two years ago because you got a job offer at the Walter Reed hospital and nothing held you in Las Vegas. Spencer talked to you about his job in the FBI, you asked him about Diana and it surprised him that you still knew her name, you two had a great time together until you caught Spencer off guard.

"Spencer, how are you really? You have very dark circles under your eyes."

"I…I haven’t slept really, it was this case that reminded me of something in the past." Spencer sighed and didn’t dare to look you in the eyes.

You knew where his mind went, you rubbed Spencer’s arm.

"But look at you now, these High school jerks and Alexa are definitely regretting this now." You looked at your clock.

"Hey Spencer it’s getting late, I have to wake up early and honestly you need some sleep too."

Spencer's mimic changed from happy to sad in one motion.

"Oh, I understand. Yeah yeah, you should leave you need your sleep." Spencer took his distance from you, thinking you wanted to leave because you already had enough of him.

"Spencer hey, if you want we can exchange phone numbers so we could meet again."

Spencer’s lips curved into a smile.

"Yeah, I would like that."You exchanged numbers and you both left the shop together.

Sadly you two had to split ways, Spencer insisted on walking you home but you promised him that it wouldn’t even take 10 minutes till you were home. Spencer started rambling about unsafety and what everything could happen in 10 minutes.

"Wow, now I might think I have to stay with you forever." You joked

but Spencer was stunned and it caused his cheeks to turn slightly pink.

"I just made a joke Dr. Reid, okay. Would you feel better if I wrote you when I made it home save in 10 minutes?" You asked him.

"This would make it slightly better. But.."

"But?" You asked confused.

"You lied," Spencer said.

"What?"

"You first said you would be home in less than 10 minutes now it’s exactly 10 minutes." Spencer smiled and you laughed.

"Come home safe Dr. Reid."You smiled and turned around making your way home.

When Spencer arrived home, he thought about going to bed immediately but you crossed his mind again and when he looked at his phone he saw that you hadn’t wrote him yet. So instead of getting in his pyjamas he sat on his couch and waited for your text.

After 10 minutes and 45 seconds, you texted him letting him know you made it home safe.

Spencer:You are too late.

Y/n:What?!

Spencer:You are exactly 45 seconds too late. Next time I call the FBI.

Y/n:haha. I am so sorry dr Reid, I changed into my pajamas first.

Y/n:You didn’t need to stay awake for me

Spencer:But I wanted to make sure that you save.

Y/n:Thank you Spencer but you also need to sleep.

Spencer:Good night Y/n sleep well.

Y/n:Sleep well genius.

Over the last few months, Spencer and you met at the bookstore when your jobs allowed it. Otherwise, you two stay connected through messages and phone calls. Even the team noticed a shift in Spencer’s mood and as the man Derek is he asks him about it.

"Hey, pretty boy, who’s got you on the phone like this?"

"What do you mean, I use my phone like I always do."

"No boy wonder, for someone who rarely uses his phone in his free time, you are really caught up in it now." Derek laughed.

"Is pretty boy in love?" Derek asked and wiggled with his brows.

"Derek please can you leave it, it’s nothing," Spencer answered and didn’t dare to look Derek in the eyes.

"Okay Spencer, I let it slide for now but just so you know I care about you and if there is someone in your life that makes you happy, I just want to know."

Paperwork days for Spencer were never a problem, he accepted it cause it needed to be done but now with you in his life, he loved paperwork because it meant he wasn’t away on a case and with you having the morning shift, it gave you two the chance to meet up after work and he enjoyed your time together, he feels like he can be like himself with you and he hasn’t laughed so much since he met you.

But your jobs didn't allow this too much, either you had the night shift or Spencer was out of town for a case and he hated this, he hated when you weren’t around, he hated it when you two were in the same city but didn’t get to see each other and even though he loves his job, he couldn’t wait to come home, to see you - he missed you.

Cases also mean for him that he barely has time to call you.

Currently, Spencer has been away for a week already, this case going longer than he thought it would take, Spencer lay on his motel bed and tried to find the breakthrough for the case but nothing came to his mind.

He put the papers aside and looked at the clock, it wasn’t too late in DC yet, and he was unsure if he should call you, it’s nothing you usually do so that Spencer could stay focused on the case but honestly, he needed to hear your voice tonight, so he tried to call you hoping you aren’t already asleep.

"Spencer? Is everything okay?" Your voice sounds raw.

"Hey, yeah everything is okay. Did I wake you up? I am so sorry, I really didn’t mean to, it was a stupid idea to call you, you obviously slept, and your voice sounds raw. I should-."

"Spencer, breath, everything is fine. I didn’t sleep, I - I just rolled around, I was thinking about you."

Spencer was stunned by your confession, he stayed silent but his heart was beating very fast.

"So yeah, what’s on your mind, Spencer?" You asked breaking the silence.

"We don’t come forward with the case and I...I wanted to hear your voice." Spencer confessed.

"Sometimes it takes more time to find the perpetrator but the only thing that matters is that you will find him. I miss you but please stay safe there."

"I will y/n, I promise."

"Hey, Spencer."

"Yes, y/n."

"Why don’t we meet when you come back, we could order takeout and make a movie marathon at my place nothing fancy." You suggested.

"Yeah, yeah I would like that."

"Good, I will see you soon, good night Spencer."

"Good night y/n."

A few days later the team finally caught the unsub.

As the team flew back to Virginia, Spencer wrote you to let you know that he would land in the late afternoon and asked you if you two wanted to have the movie marathon tonight which you accepted.

Spencer didn’t even realize that he smiled like an idiot until Derek pulled him out of his thoughts.

"You pretty boy what got your smile like that?" Derek asked Spencer.

"Uh n-no-nothing," Spencer said but his cheeks turned 10 times darker every second.

"Sureee Spencer."

Spencer didn’t say anything.

"Hey Spencer," Derek said.

"Yeah."

"It’s good to see you like this," Derek replied. He left Spencer alone with his thoughts, he couldn’t wait to see you tonight.

Spencer arrived at your apartment complex 10 minutes too early, he first waited in his car, drumming his fingers on his bouncing leg, trying to calm himself down but he failed miserably, so he stood in front of your door 7 minutes and 43 seconds too early but it was okay, in that time he tried to get his breath under control.

But before Spencer got his breath under control, you already opened the door.

"Man, I thought you would never knock at my door." You greeted him.

"How-how did you know I stood in front of your door?" Spencer asked.

"I saw you parking your car 5 minutes ago, I waited for you.”

"Oh yeah I didn’t want to be late here but I also didn’t want to be too early, I didn’t know if you were ready yet," Spencer explained.

"It’s okay Spencer but next time just knock you could never be annoying to me, even if you're too early you can sit on my couch like right now."

"I will quickly make the popcorn, you can look for a movie we could watch." You suggested and Spencer sat down and looked for a good movie to watch that you also liked, when you returned with the popcorn and other snacks, you sat down next to him but not too close, Spencer still didn’t decide what to watch.

"I-I don’t know what to watch, movies that I like are mostly not the type from others," Spencer admitted.

"Okay mhm, what do you think of Star Trek?"

"What?!" Spencer was completely shocked.

"Ähm okay was that a bad request?"

"No, no it’s- it’s great actually, I love it, I didn’t think you would like these types of movies," Spencer admitted.

"I am full of surprises Spencer."

So you watched the Star Trek series and after some time you both fell asleep, no one knows who fell asleep first maybe it was you or him but for sure was that you both bumped your heads, after a phone went off - it was Spencer’s.

"I’m sorry, I’ve got a case, is your head okay?"

"Yeah, yeah is there enough time for coffee or do you have to leave immediately?"

"No, it looks really important I have to leave now, but at least the case is here."

"Okay, good luck, be safe."

"I will be." As Spencer was about to leave he turned around once more.

"Hey y/n?"

"Yes, Spencer."

"I had a lot of fun last night."

"Me too, maybe we couldn’t do it again sometime?"

"I would love to, bye y/n."

"See you soon doctor, come home to me in one piece."

Just when the door felt shut, your phone started ringing, it was the hospital.

"Hey, y/n. Is it possible for you to fill in today, maya is sick."

"Yeah sure, I am on my way."

Spencer just visited Abby one of the remaining survivors, in the middle of their conversation Abby got aphasia, which scared Spencer, this stain kills people in a short amount of time and right now he couldn’t do anything.

Then he thought about you, and he had the urge to talk to you, even though he may get in trouble for this he needed to know you were okay.

"Spencer, is everything okay?" You said quite in panic.

"Yeah, yeah sure why wouldn’t it be… I.. I just wanted to hear your voice and I wanted to know if you are okay."

"Everything is okay, besides I have to work today."

"What !! I thought it was your free day?"

"Yeah, change in plans, one of my colleagues is sick and they asked me to fill in, but it’s fine, it’s a quiet day." You lied to Spencer, nothing was quiet on this day.

Hey, Spencer, it looks like I’ve got to go out there again. Look out for yourself and maybe if you’d like we could out soon.. like on a real date, maybe?"

"..I would like it, yeah, that would be great."

"Good, stay safe Spencer. Bye"

"Goodbye, Y/n. Take care of yourself. See you soon."

You both hung up with a smile and at least forgot the scary situation for a few seconds, before you got out again and took care of the anthrax-infected patients.

Spencer and Derek made their way to Nichols a possible suspect in the anthrax case. When they arrived Spencer had cut himself briefly on the thorn bush but it didn't stop him and continued to walk with Derek closer to the house.

Before Morgan and Reid entered Nichols's private lap, Derek got a phone call, Reid made his way into the lab and left Derek behind.

As Derek ended the call, he realized Spencer was not behind him. Derek ran towards the house calling for Reid and just when he arrived at the house, Spencer closed the door from the lab and told Derek he couldn’t get in there just then Derek saw the broken test tube with Anthrax in it.

Spencer was a step closer to death.

You took the mask from your face and took a deep breath and you finally broke down, you started crying, it was too much for you, seeing all those vulnerable people and you can’t do anything to help them, you can only try to make this stay as comfortable as possible.

You knew what this job meant, you can’t save everybody but this is not fair, how can a human being so heartless and let these people perish?

You took another deep breath and then you thought about Spencer, hopefully was okay, far away from this situation but deep down you knew he wasn’t, he is in the FBI of course he is involved but please let him be okay.

You needed to hear Spencer's voice, so you called him.

"Y/n…" Spencer began to cough.

"Spencer.. what's happening. You don’t sound okay."

"Everything is fine." Spencer coughed again.

"Spencer…no matter what is happening…"

"Y/n listen." Spencer cut you off.

"I love you Y/n… everything is gonna be okay but I've got to go now. Then Spencer hung up and you didn’t get to answer him.

You tried it a few more times but he didn’t pick and now it felt like your world broke down, you burst into tears knowing couldn’t do anything.

After Spencer and Dr. Kimura may have found the cure for this anthrax, Spencer finally gets to go out of the lab and go to the shower, but as Spencer untied his tie, Dr. Kimura sees the cut Spencer got from the bush and the situation just got more dangerous, hopefully, the cure was in the inhaler.

When Dr. Kimura came in with a newly infected anthrax patient your heart skipped a beat - it was Spencer.

He was in an awful state and for a moment you didn’t know if he would survive this.

The situation finally got under control with the confirmation from the lab that the cure was in the inhaler, the last survivors and Spencer were able to be cured and now it was a matter of time before Spencer woke up.

When you walked towards Spencer’s room, you saw a man sitting by Spencer and eating his jello that you put on his table, just then Spencer woke up and immediately asked if there would be more jello.

As you arrived at Spencer's room you couldn’t hold back anymore.

"Hey." You've said as if a stone fell from your heart.

"Hi." Said Spencer with a smile on his face.

You both wanted to say so much more but with this muscular man in the room who you didn’t know - there was an awkward silence there.

"Okay, I think it’s my time to leave. Have fun lover boy." The man said and left you too alone.

"You’ve scared me, Spencer." You sat down on the bed and took his hand in yours.

"I didn’t mean to do this and I am sorry for what I said, I would understand if you don’t want to see me anymore, I mean with what I said I took this.." Spencer rambled.

"I love you too Spencer."

"WHAT?! Really?"

"Yes Spencer, of course I do, I've loved you since we first met back in Las Vegas."

Spencer cupped with both hands your face and you leaned in and then you two kissed for the first time.

"So you still want to go out with me?" You asked.

"Of course Y/n." You both hugged and Spencer's face was crooked in your neck.

"Hey, Y/n?"

"Yes, Spencer."

"Before we go out on the date, can I have some of this jello?" Spencer asked shyly but you just started laughing.

"Of course, my love, you can have as much jello as you want."

Man - when I wrote this it felt from length okay but now I feel like it’s a little rushed maybe you could give me feedback if I should get more in detail with the story and the conversations.

I am still very new to writing and it feels super though to write Spencer so that he still has his character traits and doesn’t sound like a totally different Spencer.

[artist-issues]

haven't seen Moana yet (and probably wont at this point) but just based off of the clips from the movie and listening to the soundtrack, it sounds dead. I very well think a big reason it flopped was the Lin-Manuel Miranda wasn't working on it. what do you think of the lack of his work on the project and how it effected it?

YES his lack of work on the project affected it. Yes. I've said it elsewhere but I'll say it again: what Grade-A Legendary Character Design Artists are to visual storytelling, Lin Manuel Miranda is to musical storytelling.

A character design artist knows how to use tools in his toolbox like color, shapes, lines, and the like to communicate, visually, Who a Character Is and What They're About before that character ever speaks or does a thing in the story.

And Lin Manuel Miranda knows how to use tools in his toolbox like melody, tempo, and most of all, lyrics, to tell you Who a Character Is and What They're About before that character does or speaks anything else in the actual story.

I mean let's just use Hamilton as an example because that's what everybody does. Think of the way that Hamilton raps fast and high and emotional, splattering all of his thoughts and skill all over the place in rap-speed, choice of words, and even volume. That's the exact same way his character is always rushing to do the most, because he's obsessed with not wasting a moment on his hurtling journey toward death. But then contrast that with Eliza's lyrics, the kind of melodies she uses, how she holds out notes and the lilt in her voice. Like she's taking her time and enjoying the beauty of what she's singing about. Sort of the same way her character, in CONTRAST to her husband, is always trying to make the most of what she already has, savoring the beauty of every moment.

In the song with the three Schuyler sisters, Angelica is singing about new ideas and potential (parallel to Hamilton,) Peggy is singing about fears and is just generally there. But Eliza's lyrics are all kind of "taking in the scene." She's present. She's making observations. "People shouting in the square," etc.

All his songs might have the same flavor of "Lin Manuel Miranda." But he nails characterization. That's his strength. And I haven't seen another composer, musician, writer, whatever you want to call it, who can do it as well as him since Alan Menken.

...who, by the way, has a lot of songs that sound like Alan Menken, once you know it's him. Some of the melody or tempos in "Belle" can flow seamlessly right into "Part of Your World," which bounce right back into "A Whole New World." Listen to the instrumental versions, you'll see what I mean.

The point is, I've noticed that "Every Song Sounds Like Lin Manuel Miranda" especially in Encanto. But I don't think it matters because his ability to bring characters out in his lyrics and music makes up for that stylistic sameness. In my opinion.

So, yeah. Without Lin Manuel Miranda the Moana 2 songs are absolute bilge. Bad Tik Tok parodies of parodies.

But because the story in Moana 2 was so directionless, I don't know if even Lin Manuel Miranda could've found a character through-line for Moana and Maui to base his songs on, this time.

Then again, he did a real good job in Mufasa. If you just listen to the songs from that movie and don't know that the story is a flop, his songs make a good story.

[desmon1995]

After Dark: The Park, Power, and Abuse

Alright, let’s talk about The Warriors Album—specifically The Park at Night, which I’d argue is one of the most gut-wrenching songs in the entire album. If Sick of Running was a blazing, victorious high, then The Park at Night is its dark reprise, dragging the characters and us into a chilling, sobering low.

We just left off Sick of Running on a triumphant note. Ajax, fresh off advice from the Hurricanes, finally rallies the girls to fight back against the Furies, who’ve been pushing them to the brink. It’s this powerful, adrenaline-fueled moment that feels almost like a win. But just as we’re feeling that rush, The Park at Night drops us straight into a scene that feels like someone cut the lights in an alley.

The tone shifts immediately, with Mexican indie artist Elain’s haunting sample—“Folks go missin' in the park at night”—whispering through the track, setting an eerie, predatory vibe. It’s as if the girls are being watched, hunted, and in this fog of tension, we meet Barnes.

Barnes is played by James Rainer, the original Ajax from the 1979 Warriors film, and here’s where the casting choice really lands. The original Ajax was a vicious character, driven by toxic masculinity and a hunger for power. He’s homophobic, sexist, and would rather use strength to bully than find any real connection. Barnes inherits all of these traits. If you’ve never seen the original, you’d just think he’s a sleazy cop. But for those in the know, there’s a dark irony in Rainer’s casting, like Barnes is a shadow of his former self, or maybe an Ajax in a system that empowers his worst traits.

The timing couldn’t be worse. The Warriors have been through a nightmarish journey already, chased, ambushed, and betrayed by gangs across the city. They’ve likely lost Cleon, their leader, and with it, a sense of safety. So, when Barnes sees Ajax and reduces her to a “sex worker,” it’s not just creepy—it’s an abuse of power, this cop using his authority to exploit vulnerability. It’s heartbreaking.

And let’s talk about Ajax’s reaction. She’s not about to let this pervert slide. After everything she and her friends have endured, Ajax snaps and unleashes all her pent-up fury. This moment is raw and heartbreaking because it’s not just about Barnes; it’s about every man and gang that’s used and abused her and her friends. But Barnes, clutching his badge like a shield, retaliates by arresting her—not because she did anything illegal, but because he can. In this moment, Barnes embodies a brutal reality: men in power often get away with preying on those they deem “lesser.”

And, honestly, the symbolism here is haunting. Barnes calls in backup to hunt down the rest of the Warriors, making these taunting catcalls, even echoing the sound of a police siren. It’s both a literal threat and a grim commentary on how those in power dehumanize and hunt down anyone who doesn’t “belong.” It’s unsettling, especially when you consider that Ajax is a young woman—likely a teenager—which makes Barnes’ actions even creepier. He’s not just harassing her; he’s flaunting that no one will stop him.

As pointed out by @Genzwriter on The Warriors Album Reddit, this scene is a searing critique of how sex workers are brutalized by cops who see them as disposable. Barnes doesn’t see Ajax as a person or even a gang member; he sees a powerless girl he can intimidate. And Ajax? She’s rightfully enraged, and she’s finally done being quiet. But, of course, her fight back is met with punishment, as Barnes flexes his badge and power to silence her.

What’s amazing, though, is that Ajax gets the final word. Despite being overwhelmed, she declares herself a Warrior—a small act of defiance, but one that ripples out to inspire Fox later on in Reunion Square.

The Park at Night is a brilliant example of Lin-Manuel Miranda and Eisa Davis bringing their unique strengths together. Lin, with his deep love and understanding of The Warriors, uses the original Ajax’s character to reinforce this nightmarish descent for the group. It’s a painful homage, but one that works. And then Eisa’s contribution adds a whole new layer—the way she infuses this number with an authentic, powerful female perspective that wouldn’t have hit the same if this story was solely told by a man.

And then there’s the bleak reality of Barnes. He isn’t punished. There’s no justice served, no moment of reckoning. He walks away unscathed, and that’s so infuriating. The album doesn’t fault Ajax for her choice to lash out—she did what any of us would do after being pushed to the edge. But the reality remains: cops like Barnes are empowered to hurt the vulnerable without consequence, a message that lands painfully close to home.

The Park at Night is dark, relentless, and all the more powerful for it. It doesn’t pull punches, and it doesn’t offer easy answers. Instead, it shows us the breaking point for Ajax and her friends, and while it’s a bitter scene, it’s one of the album’s strongest. This song hits hard because it shows that sometimes, no matter how hard you fight, the system will do everything in its power to break you down.

[mldrgrl]

La La Land

by: mldrgrl Rating: Teen Pairing: Hanella Summary: Hank gets an offer he can't refuse and brings Stella along.

Never in Hank’s career had one of his novels been so sought after for a film deal.  Charlie had been fielding calls on a daily basis from studio execs and some fairly prestigious producers trying to smooth talk their way into buying the rights.  Some of the offers were so low it was offensive, but some had been worth listening to their pitch before Hank ultimately shot them down.  Charlie just assumed Hank was trying to start a bidding war, but no amount of money could tempt Hank over this book.  Maybe for the first time in his life, he felt extremely protective over this piece of work and he wasn’t going to let some studio bastardize his masterpiece, not for all the money in the world.

And then Netflix came calling and their offer to fly him out to LA and hear what they had to say happened to coincide with Stella’s spring break and well, why not take a free trip to the west coast, first class, for some wining and dining on someone else’s dime?  Three days and two nights at The Hollywood Roosevelt Hotel, because what could be more Hollywood than Marilyn Monroe’s former residence?  Sure.

Stella was whisked away almost as soon as they arrived.  Per the check-in clerk, “your wife has been booked for a spa treatment, Sir, and the studio has sent a car for your meeting.”  And with that, fingers were snapped, a bellhop appeared, and Hank went one way, Stella another.  Charlie was waiting in the black Escalade that was apparently his ride to the studio.

“Runkle,” Hank said, putting his agent in a headlock to rub his knuckles back and forth over his smooth, bald head.

“Dammit, Hank,” Charlie complained, slapping at Hank’s arm.  

“What?  It’s not like I’m gonna mess up your hair.”  Hank pressed his lips to the top of Charlie’s head before he released him.

“No, but you’ll wrinkle me.”  Charlie pushed himself across the car seat, away from Hank, smoothing his tie down his chest.

“Same Runkle, still as tightly clenched as a nun’s twat.”

“This is a big deal, Hank.  Netflix has more money than God and they want your book.  Maybe they want a whole development deal.  I could retire.  I could spend the rest of my days sipping mai tais on a lanai in Florida.”

“Florida is where rich assholes go to die, Charlie.”

“Hank, I’m telling you, I think this is big.  They fly you out here, they put you up at the Roosevelt, they’re sending private cars, they don’t just do that for a lowball offer.”

“I know how much dollar signs get you hard, Charlie, but try not to nut before we even get to the meeting.  Besides, I’m probably not even going to say yes.”

“Ohhhhhh…”  Charlie bent his head back and put a hand over his chest.  “Hank, you say things like that and it triggers my agita.”

“They’re gonna want to change the ending, which is a nonstarter for me, and they’re gonna want to cast some…some America’s sweetheart like Reese fucking Witherspoon as Miranda, which tells me that they haven’t even read the book at all, they had some intern pass on a synopsis and they don’t give a fuck about the actual material, they just want content.  They’re just a fucking content factory shitting out turdburgers that only like five percent of is even watchable.”

“What’s wrong with Reese Witherspoon?”

“Nothing’s wrong with Reese Witherspoon except you can’t cast Reese Witherspoon in a part that should go to…I don’t know who, but the opposite of Reese Witherspoon.”

“I think you’re really underestimating Reese Witherspoon here, Hank, she’s a fantastic actress, you know she’s an Academy Award winner.”

“Jesus, Runkle, you’re missing the point.”

“Okay, okay.”  Charlie put his hands up in surrender.  “No Reese Witherspoon.”

Hank closed his eyes.  It’d been years since he smoked, but he wanted a cigarette.  Every time he came back to LA it was more and more apparent what a hostile, toxic environment it was for him.  He didn’t want to go to the meeting anymore, he just wanted to have the driver turn the car around and take him back to Stella.  Take him back to New York.  He never should have come.  It would have been a lot less time consuming to just tell them to fuck off over Zoom.

After they arrived at the studio lot, Hank and Charlie were escorted to the production offices by a young PA whose voice had probably just cracked, but was eager to please.  He brought them bottles of water and a tray of snacks which Hank refused and Charlie happily dug into and ripped open a bag of peanuts.  The conference room they were left in had a long, sleek table made of solid oak and a view of Sunset Boulevard.

Minutes later, a young woman entered the room through a side door and an entourage of assistants, all women, filed in behind her, all sitting in chairs along one wall as she approached Hank and Charlie.  She was tall and angular and looked as though she’d stepped off of the latest cover of Vogue.  Her long dark hair was pulled into a slick ponytail and her heels were as sharp as her nails, painted black.

“Eloise Lambert,” she said, extending her hand to Hank.  “We appreciate you coming down.  Did Paul offer you tea or espresso or is there anything else we can get for you?”

“An espresso sounds nice,” Charlie said.

“You must be the agent,” Eloise said, shifting her handshake to Charlie.  “We spoke on the phone.”

“Charles Runkle.  Love the set up here.  Great production house you’ve got.”

“Settle down, Charlie, they’re supposed to be kissing our asses here, not the other way around.”

Eloise smiled and moved away to take a seat across from the two of them at the short side of the table.  One of the assistants slid an espresso in front of Charlie while another slid an ipad in front of Eloise.

“You know I was a PA on A Crazy Little Thing Called Love,” Eloise said, referring to the movie that had been made of Hank’s breakout best seller, God Hates Us All.  “It was the first film set I was ever on.”

“Oh?” Hank said, keeping himself as relaxed as possible as visions of sexual harassment charges started dancing in his head.

“And it’s when I vowed that one day I would be an executive producer.  It’s criminal how that was adapted.  It makes sense to me why you’ve turned down all the other offers for this.”

“I may or may not have punched the director in the dick at a screening, but I got over it, eventually.”

“Todd Carr.  Decent guy.  Shit director.”

“I take it he’s not on the shortlist for this?”

“I think he’s working on industrials these days.”  

“Too bad.”

“I’m going to have Sabrina here take over with the pitch.”  Eloise pulled out the empty chair that was next to her and one of the women came over to sit beside her.  She was almost a carbon copy of her boss with her dark, slick-backed hair and sharp heels, but she also resembled a child playing dress up.  

“Mr. Moody,” Sabrina said, nodding at Hank.  “Mr. Runkle.  I’m sure the two of you know Reese Witherspoon.”

Hank pressed his lips together and shot his agent a look.  Charlie’s eyes were wide, but he kept them forward.  Hank felt like kicking him under the table, but refrained.

“Uh, yeah,” Hank said.  “I’ve heard of her.”

“It’s not really a secret that her book club has been a major success and that most of her picks have then gone on to be developed from there.”

“Mmhm.”

“We’d like to do something similar, but we want to cultivate a selection that has a bit more…edge, let’s say.”

Hank relaxed a little.  “So you’re not looking at Reese for…casting?”

“Casting?”  It was Sabrina that tensed now.  “That would be a very interesting choice.  Is that…is that who you had in mind for Miranda?”

“God, no.”

“Okay, great.”  Sabrina nodded and then gestured at someone over her shoulder.  “We do have a few choices in mind, if you’d like to take a look.”

“Yeah, sure.”

One of the women gave some papers to Sabrina and then she slid them across the desk to Hank and Charlie.  It was a standard breakdown of the characters and the first name on the list under Miranda was Catherine Keener.  He could see that.  He could even get behind that.

“Okay,” Hank said.  “Back to the anti-Witherspoon book club.”

“Not anti, just…alt.  Material that might have a bit more grit and that may not always have the neat little happy endings tied up in a bow.”

“So you’re okay with the ending?” Hank asked.

“We’re not trying to give this the A Crazy Little Thing Called Love treatment,” Eloise said.  “There’s no reason to not be faithful to the material.”

“Which is why we’d like you to write the scripts,” Sabrina added.  “Be the showrunner.”

“Wait, what?  Showrunner?”

“Hank would make a great showrunner,” Charlie said.  “I think this sounds like a fantastic idea.”

“Shut up, Charlie.  What do you mean, showrunner?”

“We’d like to shoot this as a limited series,” Eloise answered.  “Eight episodes, possibly ten.”

Hank managed not to fidget through the rest of the pitch as they explained what they wanted from him in terms of scripts, the responsibilities of casting, hiring directors, even the minutiae of costuming and set decoration would fall on his shoulders.  The weight of it freaked him out, but the opportunity to maintain creative control over one of his works was enticing.  He was suddenly taking this offer very seriously.

“And what about location?” he asked.

“What about it?” Eloise inquired.

“The novel’s set in New York.  I’m in New York.  I’m not spending eight months in Atlanta or wherever the fuck the tax break du jour is for filming these days.”

“We have relationships with the studios in Queens, not to mention a plethora of east coast based line managers and location scouts to choose from.  That won’t be a problem.”

“I don’t know the first fucking thing about running a show.”

“Fortunately, we do.”  

Hank felt backed into a corner.  He had no good reason not to say no to such a deal.  He looked to Charlie, who had the same panic written on his face as that time he’d stupidly thought he could handle a chili dog with sauerkraut from a street vendor on Melrose.  His silence was loud.

“There is one other potential offer we’d like to make,” Sabrina said, cutting the tension that suddenly seemed to fill the room.  “The daughter in the novel, Paige, she isn’t really part of the story, but she’s mentioned quite often.”

“Yeah.”

“We were thinking that, if this were to be successful, that maybe we could do a second series exploring her perspective.”

“I don’t know that I care to explore Paige’s POV.”

“Not you, necessarily.  Isn’t your daughter also a writer?”

“I don’t know that Becca would be interested in Paige’s POV either.  You’d have to ask her.”

“Just food for thought,” Eloise said.  “A father-daughter created series might make for a potentially interesting gimmick from a marketing perspective.”

“And lucrative,” Charlie suddenly piped up.

“You’ll have to excuse him,” Hank said, glaring at Charlie.  “He’s got his sights set on a condo in a golf cart community in Florida.”

“Wouldn’t be a very good agent if he wasn’t interested in numbers,” Eloise answered, gesturing over her shoulder at another woman who passed her what Hank recognized as a set of contracts.  “I’ll presume you’ll want your lawyer to look things over.”

Charlie immediately started flipping through the pages as soon as the contract was in his hands and Hank stepped on his toes under the table.  He stood up, and Eloise stood as well, coming towards him with her hand outstretched.

“I think you’ll find our offer more than satisfactory,” she said, shaking Hank’s hand.  “But, if there’s anything we’ve left off the table, I’m sure Mr. Runkle will be in touch to let us know.”

“I am a little disappointed you didn’t even try to hit on me.  I thought that’s what all the big Hollywood executives did.”

“My wife probably wouldn’t appreciate it if I did.”

He shrugged.  “Neither would mine.”

Hank left the offices in a cloud of quiet dread.  Once upon a time he would’ve just signed the contract without giving it much thought as to how he would pull it off, but the older he’d gotten, the more contemplative he’d become, less impulsive.  While his agent may have been ready to open a good bottle of champagne, he wasn’t quite there yet.  There was only one person’s input that mattered to him.  

Wanting to avoid what was sure to be his Charlie’s incessant babbling on the ride back to the hotel, Hank opted to walk.  He thought his agent would put up a protest, but Charlie waved to him from the back seat, already on the phone with their lawyer.  He watched the Escalade pull away and made his way west on Sunset.  The too blue skies and palm trees lining the streets fed into Hank’s already contemplative mood by adding a dose of nostalgia and melancholy.  

At Vine Street, Hank turned right, wanting to catch a glimpse of Capitol Records on the way up to Hollywood Boulevard.  He casually browsed the walk of fame stars that lined the side street, tallying up how many were dead and gone and were largely forgotten.  He had to pull out his phone to take a photo of the star of Richard Dix and set a reminder to himself to search for a wikipedia page later and find out if the man was a porn star or his real name was Dick Dix.  

He crossed Hollywood to go stand in front of the famous recording studio building and daydream about what his life might look like if he’d went into music instead.  Probably dead.  He snapped a photo of the building and texted it to Fish.  As he put his phone back in his pocket, he paused as his attention was drawn back to the sidewalk.  

“I’m a writer,” he mumbled to himself as he crouched down over the star of Billy Wilder.  “But then, nobody’s perfect.”

Hank had made it no secret that a lot of his career had been driven by money and he’d always found it to be a more honest, less vulgar motivator than fame, but secretly, deep down, he’d always admired the real storytellers of the world, the ones driven by passion and need to express.  Even more, he’d always admired the ones that could make their art last.  He had the soul of a tortured artist, all he was ever lacking was the brain brimming with stories.  He took a photo of the star and made no other stops on the rest of the walk to the hotel.

The same check-in clerk from hours before nodded to him as he headed to the elevators.  He double-checked the room number written on the keycard holder and punched the number three.  A fully-stocked wet bar greeted him beside the door and he called out Stella’s name as he grabbed a glass and looked for the whiskey.  His wife emerged from the bedroom door in a plush robe, looking more than freshly showered.  Her hair was pulled back, but fluffed.  Her face was dewy and her cheeks were pink.

“Netflix spring for the deluxe spa package?” he asked, pouring himself a drink.

“A lovely facial and a wonderful Swedish massage,” she answered.

“Happy ending included?”

“I was waiting for you for that.”

Hank grinned as he took a sip of whiskey and opened up one arm as Stella slipped her arms around his waist.  “Good answer,” he murmured, and lowered his glass to kiss her.  She licked a drop of whiskey off his bottom lip when he pulled away.

“How did it go?” she asked.

Hank grunted and took one of Stella’s hands, crossing his arm over her chest as he shuffled them out to the main area.  He caught a glance of the pool over the balcony view from the wall to wall sliding glass doors as he pulled her down onto the black leather couch.  He crossed both feet on the coffee table that looked like it had been carved from driftwood and she put her hand under the side of his jacket to run her hand across his chest.

“They want to give me everything I never knew I even wanted,” he said.

“How very unsatisfying for you.”

He grunted again and took another sip of whiskey before he handed her the glass to sit up and pull his jacket off.  She tucked her feet up under her and balanced the glass on her knee as he leaned back and sighed, crossing his feet on the table again and lacing his fingers behind his head.

“They don’t want to change the ending?” she asked.

“Nope.”

“Did they share their thoughts on casting?”

“I saw a list.”

“And there was no Reese Witherspoon, I take it?”

He chuckled and then turned his head towards her.  “No, they seemed to be spot on with the breakdown.  And, they were thinking a limited series format, not a movie.”

“For television?”

“More or less.  Eight to ten episodes.”

“Is that preferable?”

“They want me to develop it.  Be the showrunner.”

“What does that mean?”

“Write it, cast it, set decorate the fucking thing if I want to, basically be the czar of the show.”

“I see.”  She hummed and then her expression turned pensive.  

Hank took the glass of whiskey out of Stella’s hand for another drink and then offered it to her.  She shook her head so he quickly downed the rest, coughed once from the sting of it and pounded a fist lightly against his sternum.  Sometimes he forgot that he couldn’t drink the way he used to.  She took the glass from him and put it on the table and then settled next to him again, her hand on his chest.

“What are you thinking?” he asked.

“Is this something you want to do?”

“I’ve never had full creative control over a project before.  It’s tempting.”

“Hm.”

She was quiet again.  He slumped towards her to nuzzle his face against her neck and closed his eyes as he breathed her in.  She smelled like coconut and her skin was warm and slick as he slipped his hand through the gap in her robe to caress her breast.  “God, you smell good,” he mumbled.  He dragged his bottom lip back and forth across her collarbone and she finally reached up and put her fingers in his hair, scratching her nails up the back of his head how he liked it, but didn’t say anything.  

“Tell me what you think I should do, Sherlock.”

“I think it sounds as though you want to say yes, don’t you?”

“I want to know what you think,” he murmured, tipping his chin down and opening his eyes to gaze at her half-exposed breast.  He circled his fingertip around her areola in the way he knew she liked, very lightly, counterclockwise.  “Be my voice of reason.  Talk me out of it, maybe.”

“I would never talk you out of something you want to do.”

“But?”

“What will the timeline of this be like?  I have exams approaching and I don’t know how flexible I can be with the time I can take, not like previously when I was in London.  If it meant weeks apart…months, even…”

“Mmm say flexible again, but let me get my dick in my hand first.”  He pulled back with a smile to let her know he was teasing before she could develop a frown or chastise him for not taking her seriously.  She frowned anyway and he began massaging her breast as penance.  “Not to worry, Sherlock, I’ve already made it conditional that I wouldn’t even consider agreeing to their offer if they weren’t willing to shoot the show in New York.”

Stella shifted and pulled on Hank’s hair so that he had to tip his head back to look up at her.  “Are you telling me they’ve offered to let you write your own show, cast it, direct it, shoot the ser-”

“Don’t forget set decorate the fucking thing if I wanted to,” he interrupted.

“Set decorate the fucking thing, and shoot the series in New York.  You who has no experience with any of these things?”

“I thought I was going to have to pinch myself, but no one offered to blow me, so it was pretty obvious it wasn’t a dream.”

“You actually want to do all those things?  Be responsible for all of it?”

Hank sobered and sighed as he pulled his hand free from Stella’s robe.  “Take the hits if it’s a failure, you mean?”

“No, that isn’t what I meant at all, though it would be something to think about.  Trust me, being in charge of a number of people can seem alluring, but it’s also a heavy burden.”

“You don’t think I can carry the load?”  He put his hand up and scrunched his face.  “Wait, don’t answer that.”

Stella wove her fingers through Hank’s and pressed her palm against his.  All he had to do was give her a gentle pull and she lifted up onto her knees.  He held onto her as she straddled his thighs and he slouched into the back of the couch.  He took her other hand and for a few quiet moments, she stretched her fingers between his as he rubbed circles over the insides of her wrist with his thumbs.  She finally twisted her hands free and then brought them to the back of his neck and laced her fingers together. 

“This is a massive offer,” she said.  “It will mean a lot of time and work and energy.”

“I know that,” he answered, unknotting her robe.  Her breasts were bare, but she had plain white cotton panties on.  Nothing fancy or lacy, but a view he could still appreciate for the dark shadow of pubic hair through the thin material and the wet spot that hinted at her arousal.    

“It’s a huge commitment.”

He let his thumbs drift down and dip into the waistband of her panties.  “I think I’m pretty good at commitment,” he murmured.  “Don’t you?”   

“Very, very good,” she whispered, thighs clenching against his legs.

He took a deep breath and moved his hands up her body, over her breasts to her shoulders and back down again.  “Do you know who Billy Wilder is, Sherlock?”

“Should I?”

“Golden age of Hollywood filmmaker.  Wrote and directed Sunset Boulevard, Some Like it Hot.  On his tombstone, he had them put ‘I’m a writer, but then, nobody’s perfect.’”

“Ah, I see.”

Hank cocked his head at her.

“Some Like it Hot,” she said.  “Paraphrasing the last line of his own film.”

“Your well of knowledge never ceases to impress.”

“It’s a rather shallow well, I’m afraid, but I do know that one.”

He hummed and ran the flat of his hand down the front of her chest to her navel.  “I don’t know what they did to you in that spa, but I don’t think you’ve ever felt so soft.”

“All but the happy ending.”

“Oh yeah, let’s not forget about that.”  He made a move to slip his hand back between her legs but she grabbed it and pushed it away.

“Finish your story,” she said.

“And I saw his star on the walk of fame today, the end.”  He tried to touch her again, but she pushed him away again and raised her brow.  He sighed.  “And I saw his star on the walk of fame today and it made me think about how lucky he was to have been able to put his words out there and that we can sit here what, sixty years later, and remember what he wrote.”  

“I’ve been snobbish about it in the past,” he continued, “and thought that people who could quote novels were somehow superior to people who could quote movies, but honestly, so what?  Someone had to write it first for someone to say.  And then someone out there thought it worthy of their grey matter.  I have always wondered what it could be like to see something through from page to screen.  Not have to complain when they inevitably get it so fucking wrong.  So, if Netflix has faith in me, maybe I should have faith in myself and take the chance.  No, I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing, but I never know what the fuck I’m doing so it’ll just be another day ending in ‘y’.”

Stella’s eyes, dark blue and piercing, softened and lightened.  She smiled and her mouth descended onto Hank’s in a firm kiss.  He squeaked in surprise and then chuckled.  He managed to grasp her hips again and pull her firmly down against his chest.

“My brief affair with an existential crisis turn you on, Sherlock?”

“No, but your commitment does.”

He grinned and then flipped her down to the couch.  “Now, then,” he said.  “I finished my story.  I’d say it’s time for your happy ending.”

“About damn time.”

The End

[specialagentlokitty]

Master chief x reader - the fear of loosing you

Laying on your side, you stared at the wall in front of you, looking at the photo you had stuck on there.

Only one photo, but that was all you needed, the only thing that you needed while you were laid here like you had been doing for the past few days.

There was a knock on your door, and you rolled over to see who it was coming into your room.

“Hey Riz.” You smiled.

“Hey.”

She walked over, and sat down in front of your bed.

“You weren’t at the landing zone when we returned. Chief has to go debrief but he asked me to quickly come see if you were alright.”

You smiled at her, nodding your head.

“Yeah, yeah I’m good. Just resting.”

She nodded her head, studying your face for a moment.

“How did it go?” You asked.

“It went well.”

Riz sat there explaining their most recent mission to you, what they went through, what they did, the flight there and back.

You happily laid there and listened to her as she told you about the mission from her perspective.

She didn’t have long to talk, so eventually she got back up, saying bye as she left the room, and you rolled back over to look at the photo.

You had spent a few hours asleep while you waited for John, and you were woken up by the sound of somebody entering your room.

“Hey, it’s only me.”

“John…”

You shuffled over, and he came over a minute later, sitting down on the edge of the bed, and you rolled over to look up at him.

He was laid on his side looking down at you, and you smiled up at him.

“I’m glad you’re back.”

“What have you been doing?”

You yawned a little as you sat up, wrapping half your blanket around you and you tossed the other half around him.

“Well, I had some paper work to do, so I finally finished that which absolutely sucks. Honestly paperwork is going to be the death of me.”

“Why aren’t you allowed back into active duty? Is something wrong with your leg?” He asked.

You looked at your leg, lifting your trouser leg a little to show him your calf, the pinkish scar healing.

“No, it’s alright. A little sore to move sometimes though.”

He nodded his head, carefully examining your leg, running his thumb along your new scar.

He had picked it up from you, because it’s what you did with his, you would trail your fingers along them.

“I think it’ll still be a while before I can go into active duty, for now it’s riding the desk for me.”

John nodded his head.

“Have you been doing your physio therapy exercises you were given?”

“I haven’t done them yet. I was feeling tired all day so I spent a lot of it asleep.”

John stood up, and he walked over to your desk, flicking through a few things on your console before pulling them up on your wall.

“It’s important to your recovery that you do them, it may impact your future mobility if you don’t.”

“I know, I know.”

You shuffled over to the edge of the bed, and John helped you stand.

He always helped you with your physio, making sure you were actually doing it and making sure that you were taking frequent breaks while doing it.

When you were finished, he sat you down in the chair, and sat in front of you, rolling your trouser leg and grabbed the cream you were given.

“Miranda said this will help with the scarring, it won’t get rid of it but it’ll help with the appearance. It also acts as a numbing agent which will allow you to move around a little longer.”

You nodded your head, placing your hands on his face while he put the cream on your injured leg.

You ran your thumbs along his cheeks, and leant down to kiss the top of his head, giving him a little smile when he looked up at you.

He put the lid on the cream, and sat there looking up at you with gentle but curious eyes.

“What was that for?” He asked.

“I just felt like it.”

He nodded, pushing himself up, on the way up he let you stop him and gently kiss him, which he returned.

“Have you eaten yet?” He asked.

You shook your head.

“Wait here, I’ll bring you something.”

“Thank you.”

He gave you a little smile, and he left your room.

You sat there for a minutes before moving over to your bed to sit back down.

You weren’t even hungry, but you didn’t want to worry John, so you would eat some of whatever it was he brought for you.

But your decline in health had been noticed by all of the Spartans, though they didn’t know the reasoning behind it.

They tried to look, they asked Miranda but she claimed she didn’t know.

John came back with a tray of food for you, and he pulled over your chair, setting it down on the chair so you could eat while he went for a shower.

You ate a little bit, hiding the rest in the bin, and you laid on your bed with a book in hand as he came back through.

“Will you read to me?” John asked.

You smiled, setting that book on the floor and you picked up another one, holding your arm out.

John came padding over, and he laid alongside of you, resting his head on your stomach as you messaged his scalp with one hand, holding the book with the other as you read.

He spent most of the next day with you until he had to go do some work, and you were sitting at your desk doing some paperwork.

“Hey, I’ve managed to get a record of procedures we could do here.”

You looked to your door, finding Miranda standing there with a smile as she held some papers.

“As request all paper trail, so nothing will link back to you.”

You nodded, taking them from her so you could look through them.

“You don’t have to decide now, but we’ll need a decision soon so we can get you prepped for surgery.”

You set the papers into your draw and locked it, turning back around to look at her.

“How bad is it?”

Miranda sighed, coming over to your console and she pulled up a couple of her files that she had shared with you so you could see them as well.

She gestured to a few spots on one of the scans.

“These anomalies are where it’s metastasised, but they’re easy enough for surgeons to remove.”

You followed the small white specks along the scans.

“It’s spreading.”

“Yeah… but if we remove it all now and get you into treatment right after, once you’re given a clean bill we can then go about medication to prevent it coming back.”

“I mean come on Miranda we both know that there’s a chance that may not even work.”

“Right now yeah there is that chance, but if we can remove the masses while they’re still small then the treatment will work, we can prevent this coming back.”

You flicked through some of the other scans, blood results and whatever other labs they had taken on you.

“I’ll have to think about it, lock the file again.”

She nodded, locking it up for you again and you swapped back over to your file.

She left you, and you went back to doing paper work.

You didn’t want to think about your problem so you didn’t, you focused on your friends, you focused on John and spending time with him.

But soon it began to take its toll on you, and this is what alerted the Spartans, so they all came to your room, letting themselves in.

“What do you want? I said I don’t want company.”

“What’s wrong with you?” Vennick asked.

You opened your eyes, looking at the three of them.

“The chief is worrying about you, he’s trying to find out what’s going on.” Riz said.

“I’m fine…”

“You’re more tired than usual, you look sick, you’re getting weaker, and you’ve been visiting the doctors a lot more as well.” Kai said.

You stayed quiet.

“Just go away…”

“Are you sick?” Kai asked.

They all stayed quiet as they waited for your response.

You rolled over, turning your back to them, staring at the photo on your wall of you and John.

“Don’t tell John…” you whispered.

“He has to know.” Riz said.

“I’m not getting the treatment, so there’s no point him knowing.”

“Why? The treatment will help.” Vennick said.

“Because I don’t want it and it’s my choice… go away…”

You heard your door open and close, and you went back to trying to get to sleep, but everything felt uncomfortable.

You kept shuffling around, your bones ached, you felt a little sick, but overall you were just tired.

You just wanted to sleep.

And finally you managed to fall into a restless sleep, and that’s when John came in as a man on a mission, but when he saw you he stopped.

He didn’t want to wake you up, so he quietly made his was over, laying down in front of you, just looking at you.

He had noticed how you seemed to be always tired, you didn’t want to go on walks with him anymore, and he knew that at least half of your meals you were throwing in the bin.

He had been looking in every single file, ever lab results, every test that he could get his hands on that had your name but he couldn’t find it.

So when his team came to find him he knew his suspicions about something being wrong was true.

John laid there waiting for you to wake up, your back against his chest, his arm over your waist, your hand holding his tightly.

When you woke up he woke up as well, and you stretched a little bit.

“Hey…” you whispered.

John tapped your shoulder, letting you know that he wanted you to turn around so you did.

“You’re sick.”

“They told you…”

“Why didn’t you tell me? Why aren’t you getting treatment?”

You sighed heavily.

“Because I didn’t want you to worry and I.. I just… I don’t want to go through all that pain…”

Johns eyes searched yours.

“You’ll die without it…” he said quietly.

You slowly nodded your head.

John reached up his hand, placing it on the side of your face, brushing some hair out of your eyes.

“You need to take the treatment. It will hurt, but you’ll be alive.”

“John…”

“I don’t want you to die.”

You went quiet, and you placed your hand on his chest.

“Oh sweetheart…” you whispered.

“Please don’t die…” he whispered back.

You gave John a soft smile, leaning forward to give him a short kiss before you pulled away.

“I’ve seen a lot of people die, but I don’t want to see you die. You need to get the treatment, whatever it is, you need to get it. Don’t let this illness win…”

“I’ll be bedbound for months.”

“I’ll look after you.”

You took a small breath, your eyes searching his.

He looked so sad, so lost and a little confused.

He leant forward, putting his forehead against yours.

“I’ll do whatever it is I have to do, whatever it is you need, for however long you need me to do it.”

“I couldn’t ask you to do that…”

“I want to do it. I’ll do it for you.”

You laughed softly.

“You’re too good for me you know…”

“That’s not true.”

“It is.”

You laid there with him quietly for a few minutes before you finally nodded your head.

“Will you come with me to talk to Miranda about treatment options with the surgeon?”

“Of course. When would you like to go?”

“Can we this afternoon? I just want to lay here with you for a while.”

John nodded his head, laying on his back, letting you lay yourself across his chest, eventually falling back to sleep.

He looked at you, running his fingers through your hair, running his knuckles along your cheek, tracing small patterns into the small of your back.

He just laid there watching you, admiring you in all your beauty right now at this moment, how the sun hit your face, the small smile on your lips.

You were beautiful to him, and no matter what happened throughout your treatment you were always going to be beautiful to him.

He just wanted you to live.

He just wanted you to be with him, but his side no matter what.

You had always been there for him, even when he tried to push you away, even when he was at his lowest you were there and now it was his turn to be there for you, to help you get better, to make sure you weren’t sick anymore

[starysky1289]

Captian!Vanessa X Rookie!Reader. City Patrol

“ Alright, Alright. Settle down. Johanna, David, Andrew, you three will be driving through the eastern side of town. Mike, Steven, Henry, you’ll take the western side. Every one else is on active standby. Dismissed. “

Vanessas voice boomed through the meeting room, her gaze meet yours as you began to pack up for standby.

“ YN. Can I have a word? “

“ yes, Of course Captian. “

You waited for everyone to file out, and you approached Vanessa. You gave her a gentle smile, and she returned it.

“I was wondering if you’d like to accompany me on a patrol though the city. Write tickets, investigate sights, whatever the day gives us. “

“ oh! Captain I’d be honored! “

She smirked, heading towards the door.

“ get your gear, meet me by the car. “

“ yes captain. “

She nodded, and walked away. You hurried to your locker, grabbing your utilitys. Then you tossed on your jacket, the jacket she had given you.

You rushed to meet the by her car. She had an older model, but it still ran just as good as any other corvette.

“ ready rookie? “

“ yes captain. “

You both stepped into the car, buckling up. You watched Vanessa mess with some of the panel buttons, before watching her click off her body camera.

“ turn your body cam off yn, it messes with my radio. “

“ oh- yes captain. “

You clicked your camera off, and with that Vanessa drove off. The snow blew hard against the car, as Vanessa clicked the heat on.

“ tell me yn…why did you want to become a police officer. Pretty face like yours…could have been a model easy. Why waist away here. “

“ because I wanted to make a difference. To bring positive influence to my community. “

“ that’s what they all say…”

Vanessa muttered, her gaze focused ahead. You twiddled your thumbs, glancing away. Did you upset her? Was she in a bad mood.

“ here, let’s get a drink. “

When the two of you got to the city, Vanessa pull the car over. You looked up to see a Starbucks. Vanessa stepped out and walked over to open your door.

“ oh my, t-thank you captain. “

“ shh..so formal yn…you know you can just call me Vanessa~ “

“ w-well…thank you, Vanessa “

She smirked, as the two of you walked towards the door. Vanessa opened it for you and followed after you to the counter. She ordered first.

“ morning, I’ll have a venti signature dark roast. Yn what do you want, I’ll pay. “

“ oh no Vanessa i- “

“ cmon, I insist. “

You blushed, stepping closer to the counter.

“ I’ll have a venti dark roast aswell, but with 5 pumps of vanilla. “

“ oh, and two buttered croissants. “

“ Captian please that’s too much. “

She only smiled at you, swiping her card through the reader. The two of you shuffled to the pickup counter and waited. Vanessa was so sweet, when she talked her voice was heavy, but still soft. She made you feel so warm…so comforting. And this peace was perfect, until there was a crashing through the doors.

“ PUT YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR AND EMPTY YOUR POCKETS. THIS IS A ROBBERY- “

The masked criminal froze when he saw the two of you. You tried your best to remain professional, but Vanessa burst out laughing.

“ did you not see the cop car outside?? Moron. Drop the gun, hands behind your back. “

“ Step closer pig! I’ll blow your brains! “

The criminal raised his gun to Vanessa’s face, and in a second you both pulled out your guns.

“ I can shoot faster than you can think. Drop the gun. Now. “

The criminal hesitated, before dropping the gun. You quickly rushed to him and put him in cuff, instantly reading Miranda rights out. Vanessa called for back up to take the guy away.

“ we’re gonna put this guy away, can you hold into our order? Thank you “

Vanessa tipped the barista, before carefully taking the gun from the ground, carrying it outside.

“ good one YN. Backup should be here to take him away any minute now. “

“ thank you captain. “

Vanessa nodded, and the two of you waited only a moment more, and the car pulled up. They took him and the gun away, leaving you two.

“ you get in the car, I’ll get our drinks. “

Vanessa walked back into the Starbucks, and you settled into the car. She came back a few moments later, sitting in the drivers seat and handing you your drink and croissant.

“ enjoy dear. Let’s go. “

Vanessa started the car, and drove off. The way the lights bounce off the snowy side walks looked like heaven, and the warm presence of Vanessa made everything seem…perfect.

Vanessa suddenly turned into a one way street. It was off the usual patrol route. You glanced around, your stomach fluttered but you trusted Vanessa. She backed down an ally, and parked the car, leaning back in her seat.

The two of you quietly drank and ate, before Vanessa finally broke the silence.

“ so…you’ve got a girl at home yn? “

“ huh- o-oh! No n-no I don’t….”

“ really? Thought the girls would be chasing you down…a smart, pretty, strong, gorgeous girl like you….id be Chasing you if i could~ “

You blushed, burying your face in your hands. You felt Vanessa’s hands gently pry them off your face. Her gentle eyes stared right into yours.

“ the cameras don’t affect the radio at all, do they~? “

“ not at all rookie, no they do not~ “

And with that she pulled you into a kiss, you gave in, pressing against her. Her tongue pressed against your lips, as if asking for entrance, and you happily let them in.

“ a-ah…Vanessa…what about the c-cars camera….”

“ i deactivated it. Im captain, I know how to work my car~ “

The two of you continued your make out sessions, Vanessa’s hands dragged across your body before she pulled back and chuckled.

“ go in the back, I wanna try something~ “

You giggled, quickly stepping out into the cold and back into the back. Vanessa sat down first, then pulled you onto her lap. The two of you continued your make out, Vanessa’s hands trailing up your back and cupping your clothed breasts.

“ fuck….i want you yn…i fucking want you- “

“Captian, come in. We’re having an issue with the system, can you come check it out? “

Vanessa’s radio on her chest buzzed, as she picked it yo and answered it snappily.

“ yeah yeah I’m coming. Give me a few…”

Vanessa turned off the radio, sighing and looking back to you.

“fucking morons….we have to go back, I need to teach them how to do there job “

“ but we were just having fun Vanessa…”

“ I know, I know. But…maybe I can take you on a date sometime soon? And we can make out some more then~ “

“ I-I’d love that Vanessa~! “

The two of you pressed your heads together, kissing one last time before stepping out of the car, and back into the front seats.

Vanessa started the car, and the two of you drove off. As she drove, your mind wandered. How muscular her build her, how strong she is…before you landed on another thought.

“ Vanessa…”

“ yeah baby? “

“ isn’t this…wrong. Us having a…relationship….”

Vanessa stiffened, like she had been avoiding the question. She sipped her coffee again before turning down the street.

“ yeah…it’s risky for both of us…but I..I don’t wanna ignore this YN…”

Vanessa placed a hand on your thigh, as you gently placed your hand ontop of hers.

“ I think,….we could try to make this work…and if it doesn’t then it doesn’t….but I want this…”

You smiled at her vulnerability. You picked up her hand and kissed it gently, interlacing your fingers in hers.

“ I think…I want this too…I wanna make this work. “

The two of you smiled, keeping hands held for the rest of the drive to the police station. As you pulled into the garage, Vanessa stepped out and opened the door for you again.

“ so polite Captain “

“ of course. Anything for you~ “

You chuckled, walking back into the station. Vanessa went the own way to help the others, and you turned to your locker to look at your phone quickly. You’ve never felt so…so seen. So wanted. You’d do anything and everything to make this work.

You…loved her.