#don't ask what thought process lead to this

[underwhelmingalchemist]

So apparently the version of the "Isn't It Bromantic" interview that gets passed around isn't the full thing

So after seeing a tumblr post I can't find, about two and half hours of intensive internet digging, and one purchase from a sketchy second-hand site later (full story under the cut, I promise it's interesting, but also long), I got the physical magazine and scanned it

So here you go: the full "Isn't It Bromantic?" TV guide interview with Robert Sean Leonard and Hugh Laurie

Feel free to repost wherever you want- I want people to be able to find the full thing

SO, as for how I found it:

I saw this tumblr post forever ago that I can't find anymore because tumblr is just Like That with a cropped screenshot of an interview with Hugh Laurie and Robert Sean Leonard. In the interview, they're asked about the "bromance" between their two characters. Leonard makes an annoyed comment about how "everyone [is] obsessed with homosexuality", followed by the interview apologizing and Laurie immediately jumping in with, "No, no, let's talk about it. Wilson and House have an unusual relationship so you have to explore…" and the screenshot cuts off there. Cue funny comment from the OP about the interaction, roll credits.

Except, as these things tend to do, it ended up becoming a bit of a brain worm, and I wanted to find it again. But I couldn't find the tumblr post. I looked absolutely everywhere, and in the process of looking everywhere, I found what I thought was the original interview- a blog post with the full quote from the actor. I didn't think too much about it, I figured it was just a short quote given to a popular blog in 2008. There's a magazine cover above it, but I don't think too much about it, because I'm focusing on the quotes in the article instead of the rest of it.

So I send screenshots to a couple friends to make jokes, and it probably should have died there.

However, late at night I end up thinking about that interview again, because of course I did. I start to think about how it's weirdly formatted for, what I assumed at first reading, was just an entertainment news blog reaching out for comment and getting a response. So I pull up the screenshots of the article (because weirdly enough, the old-ass blog only loads on mobile) and look at it again.

This is when I realize that this isn't an original piece from a blog interviewing these two after reaching out for comment. This is a blog post quoting and commenting on a full interview from a magazine, which I had originally thought had just been the inspiration for the piece.

So naturally, I go looking for the magazine.

Luckily, the name of the magazine is displayed on the cover, and so is the title of its main piece. This should be easy to find, right?

Wrong.

This is an interview in a physical magazine. From 2008. October 13th, 2008, to be exact.

I know this exact date because searching the article title and magazine name leads me to an archive on the TV Guide website.

Of covers.

And nothing but covers.

I spend like forty-five minutes searching everywhere I can think of on the web. Internet Archive, the TV Guide website, any search result that comes up when I search any combination of the words "House" "Interview" "Bromantic" "Bromance" "TV Guide" "Archive" etc. Over and over, all that's coming up are that original blog post and the cover from the official gallery.

The only things I could find online were:

The cover and date of the issue on the TV Guide website

The original blog post that was screenshotted in the original tumblr post

Another blog post that had a much shorter version of the quote, references something Leonard says from later in the article, and makes a comment on the nature of his reaction to the term "bromance"

An entry on Leonard's IMDB page's "interview" list mentioning it in title only

And:

5. A single listing for the issue on what seemed to be a second-hand site that looked like it hadn't had its UI updated since the mid 2000's, with a listing with no date or additional information besides what issue it is.

This is the only listing anywhere. I checked every other second-hand site I could think of, and then some that only came up through google searches. There's not a single listing for that issue on any of them. There were plenty of listings of TV guide magazines, including one that seemed promising because it included issues from that year, but it was missing all of October.

It seemed like the only listing for this issue on the entire internet was this one copy on this one obscure website. For all I know, this was listed in 2008 and abandoned, and just never got marked inactive. It could also be a complete scam.

A few quick google searches show that that website seemed to be legit, albeit a bit loose on quality control (which makes sense, this website seemed like the kind of thing you'd have to use the Way Back Machine to access). It also had an option to pay via PayPal, which meant I could file a chargeback if need be.

It was $11.50 when you include shipping.

So at about half past midnight, I bought the listing.

Naturally, about an hour later, I manage to actually find a scan of the interview. I had to follow a link in the comments of a post on FanPop, taking me to an old wordpress blog, and I'm sitting in front of the damn interview at last.

But something doesn't make sense. Why would their cover story only be two pages of text that aren't even full pages, and why would it cut off so strangely? There was no concluding sentence or paragraph, even though it started with a fairly long lead-in. It also led right up to the edge of the page, which felt like there should be more to it. There were more images in the interview than text, and the fact that there are so many of them and they clearly did a whole photoshoot indicated that they had them on hand for a while. The silly string one, for instance, I imagine probably had to require a couple takes, which means cleaning off Wilson's hair and face, adjusting makeup, etc. for it. Meanwhile, the conversation itself seems like it could have taken ten minutes total. I could have been totally wrong and that was where the article ended, but I couldn't shake the feeling that there might be more.

So I hold tight. A couple days pass with no update, and then the PayPal purchase gets updated with a tracking number. Promising, but it could still be a scam. Whether or not I get the actual magazine becomes a source of anxiety for the next week.

Until today, when I get told it was delivered. And when I opened the envelope it was sent in: there it was.

When I tell you I was happy stimming in my bedroom just holding the damn issue in my own hands... And then opening it and finding out that I was right, there was a missing page... I was elated. I still am, just typing this.

So I spent half an hour getting my scanner to work, and I give you the above issues.

Like I said above, feel free to repost however and wherever you want. I want all this to mean something.

In the meantime, I have two more House-themed TV Guide magazines coming to try and get articles from.

#i am so psyched to have found this you have no idea #house #house md #hatecrimes md #malpractice md #gregory house #james wilson #hugh laurie #robert sean leonard #tv guide #magazine #interview #house interview #isn't it bromantic #hilson

[hellfiremunsonn]

Tender Touches. Eddie Munson x Reader

Tender Touches

I DO NOT ALLOW MY WRITING TO BE REPUBLISHED ANYWHERE OTHER THAN MY OWN BLOG WITHOUT MY CONSENT

Summary: A typical Tuesday that leads to you and Eddie finally confessing your feelings for each other, and finally, losing that virgin status.

18 + IF YOU ARE NOT 18 OR OLDER DO NOT READ OR INTERACT WITH MY WRITING. IT IS NOT INTENDED FOR MINORS. I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR THE MEDIA YOU CONSUME.

Warnings: fem!reader, reader has a vagina, virgin reader, virgin Eddie, hes such a teasing little shit, protected sex, first times, 'fem' pet names (IF THERES ANYTHING I MISSED LET ME KNOW)

AN: I CAN WRITE? WHO KNEW!!!  NOT REALLY PROOF READ (And shout out to my bby boy @rowanswriting for giving this a read through for me to make sure it wasn't absolute garbage! love u <3)

Wordcount: 4.6k

It's a normal Tuesday afternoon. You're at eddies, kneeled in front of his tv that he's moved into his room so the two of you can lay in his bed and watch movies instead of squishing together on the couch. Not that you didn't mind squishing up with him, it was actually one of your favourite activities when the two of you weren't constantly teasing each other to cover up the fact that you both were head over heels for one another. 

You can hear Eddie bumbling around in the kitchen, muttering to himself while you sift through the pile of tapes. Some newly rented, some classics he already owned, so it was just a matter of deciding on watching something new or rewatching something just cause. You decided on The Lost Boys. You had only seen it once before when Eddie rented it for halloween one year, but never made it through the whole thing because you had fallen asleep. You had come down with a cold only two days before and were upset you couldn't do your halloween traditions, but naturally that didn't stop Eddie from showing up at your door step, with snacks, and drinks to make you feel better along with the movie and cuddles from him that could never compare to anyone else's. 

You were so lost in thought that the entire time you've been sat going through the movies you didn't realize Eddie had been watching you. Stood in the doorway with a stupid smile on his face while he watched you quietly talk to yourself about each movie. 

He tries to hide his laugh by covering it with a cough, pretending to clear his throat and slightly startling you in the process. "Pick one yet?"

You squeaked slightly at his voice. "Shit Ed's you scared me"

He laughed, laying down on his bed, setting the bowl of popcorn down in the middle, and putting your drinks on the table next to him. "It's not my fault you're so jumpy all the time" 

"I swear I only get this bad around you" you say with a fake sigh, sliding the movie out of its cardboard case and into the VHS machine. 

"That sounds like a you problem dude" he says flicking a piece of popcorn at you. It hits you in the forehead and lands in your lap. 

"Rude" you mumble, picking up the piece of popcorn and eating it before standing up with a stretch. Arms over your head with your fingers interlocked; your cropped band t-shirt rising up, to where it's about a centimetre away from fully exposing your boobs but the stretch feels too good for you to notice. Eddie notices though, and he almost fully chokes and gags on his own spit at the sight of the soft skin of your underboob. 

You crawl your way onto Eddies bed and sit next to him, pulling the popcorn bowl closer to you, and taking a tiny handful. Eddies body is ridged next to you, but you don't seem to notice.

You make it about ten minutes into the movie before your fourth sigh of the night makes Eddie take the bowl of popcorn from you and turns to face you. "Alright, what's your issue?" he asks.

"What? What are you talking about?" you sit up, pushing yourself up with your hands and crossing your legs under you. 

"You've been sighing every five seconds like you have the weight of the world on your shoulders, so what is it" he pokes your shoulder a little too hard and you wince but smile nonetheless. 

"If I ask you something stupid do you promise not to laugh?" you gnaw at your bottom lip, looking up at him with soft eyes. 

"Have I ever?" he says quickly, a smug smile on his face.

"Often actually" you tease.

"No but seriously, you can tell me anything" he says reaching over to give your thigh a gentle pat and squeeze. 

"Okay, um, do you think I'm hot?" you can feel the heat of embarrassment rise from your stomach up your neck to your cheeks. 

Eddie stares at you. You almost think he might actually be frozen, and you're about to ask him if he's okay when he exhales loudly. 

"I'm not sure what you're asking me here" he says with a small laugh. "Are you asking if I'm attracted to you orrrrr?" he raises a brow.

"Well, no" you furrow your brows. "Not exactly, but if you are attracted to me, that might help?" You groan, dropping your head into your hands. "ugh, okay" you said loudly and taking a deep breath. Pretending that it will help you feel more confident with your words.

"When you look at me, or when we first met did, did you think 'wow she's hot' or do I just not look like that?" the words tumble out of your mouth, almost too quickly that Eddie slightly struggles to understand you at first. 

Eddie looks at you in disbelief before letting out a small laugh, shaking his head. 

"S'not funny!" you say slapping him on the arm, which only spurs him on.

"No, no it's not" he said in between breaths. "It's just an absolutely ridiculous question, of course you're hot" he said matter of fact. "Have you ever even looked at yourself?" He puts the bowl of popcorn down on the floor next to him, turning to fully face you now making you feel nervous with all his attention on you.

"I look at myself everyday Ed's" you say looking down, playing with the hem of one of your socks.

"Okay don't get an attitude with me, you know what I mean" he said while crossing one arm over his chest to scratch at the opposite bicep, you bite your lip at the sight.

You roll your eyes and huff. "M'not getting an attitude Ed's I ju-" (you were absolutely getting an attitude) But he grabs your face with one hand before you can finish the sentence, squishing your cheeks together until your lips are in a pout. You had thought that your face couldn't heat up any more with embarrassment than it already had, but then his hands touched your face and your entire body engulfed in heat.

"Answer the question" he said slowly, each word enunciated and his tone oddly stern. Watching you for a moment, before releasing your face from his hand, leaning back against the wall.

Your heart was thumping in your chest. "I j-just don't see what other people see obviously, a-and maybe I'm missing something you know? And that's why people don't like me" you rush.

He scoffs, shaking his head, leaning back until he was looking up at the ceiling. Throat on display, thick and inviting, begging to be bitten. You swallowed hard when he looked back at you, some sort of mischief in his eyes. 

"Ed's you're being weird" you say shifting slightly, trying to ignore the roaring heat you could feel between your legs.

He hums. "Do you not see the way I look at you?" he leans forward, resting his elbows on the top of his thighs while he looks at you intently. 

"I can see the way you're looking at me right now" you say softly, heart thumping so loudly in your ears you wondered if it was loud enough for Eddie to hear.

"And how am I looking at you right now?" he asks, tilting his head to the side.

You swallow thickly, only raising your eyes to his briefly while you said. "You're looking at me like you want to-" you lick your lips. "-Like you want to fuck me"

His smile spreads slowly, it's a wicked grin that makes you nervous but intrigues you more. 

"There's my smart girl" he coos. 

Your mouth falls agape, unsure at how to respond to him "Huh?"

He's quick, grabbing at your legs until he's pulled you down enough so you're laying on your back, hair sprawled around you messily while your breath catches in your throat. He's hovering over you with both his hands on either side of your head looking at you like he's on death row and you're his last meal.

"I want to do a lot more than fuck you, but I'd like to start with a kiss if that's okay?"

You're in shock, you almost consider pinching yourself to make sure this isn't a dream "You want to kiss me?" you ask. "Did I fall and hit my head or something?" you lean up on your elbows and Eddie moves back slightly to accommodate you but still stays close.

"For someone who's as smart as you are, you can be really dumb sometimes" Eddie laughs. "Of course I want to kiss you, you idiot" he says all too casually. 

Something blooms inside you. You don't know if its confidence, or arousal, but with a laugh you wrap your arms around his neck and press your lips into his. He lets out a small groan and it fuels the heat between your legs more spreading throughout your entire body until it reaches the centre of your chest. His lips are soft and pillowy just like you had imagined. He taste like cigarettes, popcorn, and the sugar from the candies you had shared. 

You push yourself forward more until Eddie leans back almost completely. "Sit" you mumble against his mouth and he listens, not letting your lips be untouched for more than a second while he moves to sit on the edge of his bed. You quickly straddle him, hands coming up to either sides of his face to deepen the kiss, and his squeeze at the sides of your hips, earning a small moan that you tried to keep quiet. You don't realize you're not putting your full weight on him until you feel him guide your hips closer, the brush of his hardened cock against your centre makes you squeak in surprise. 

The two of you move together like you knew what you were doing, it was instinct considering you never made it this far with most of the people you've been with. Sure you've fooled around with others, and you've done most of the sexual acts your mind could comprehend but neither of you had been able to discard that 'virgin' title. But it's never felt like this, it never felt electric, and the shocking realization that you could make Eddie feel this good makes you even more turned on. 

Eddie pulls back slightly when he realizes you've started to grind against him. "W-We don't have to do anything if you don't want to" he says breathlessly. 

"I know" you whisper "But this feels really good" you admit, never once stopping the motion of your hips. 

"You're gunna make me cum in my pants if you keep doing that" he says glancing down to watch the roll of your hips. 

"Is that a challenge?" you tease, pressing down on him a little harder which makes him close his eyes tight and groan. 

"You don't wanna start that game sweetheart" his hands are tight where they've moved to your thighs, squeezing harshly. 

"Why not?" you say looking at him, eyes blown out and glassy, you feel drunk off of want-Need.

"Cause you won't win" Eddie says with a smirk. One arm wrapping around your waist as he pushes himself up into you hard, a forced moan slipping from your mouth loudly while he flips the two of you, until you're on your back under him once again. 

"How do you know how to do all that?" You ask through a small gasp.

"I'm a virgin sweetheart, not inexperienced" he smirks and you open your eyes just quickly enough to catch the end of it. 

"Can I keep getting those pretty sounds outta you?" his cheeks are flushed, and you think he's never looked prettier.

You nod quickly, pulling at the fabric of his t-shirt, trying to get him closer "More" you plead. "Please?"

"Yeah? You want more?" He asks while looping his fingers into the waistband of your pants, inching them down so, so, slowly until your lower half is bare before him. You whine impatiently and he smiles. "You can have anything you want baby I'll give it to you" 

You cover your face with your hands, heat rising to your cheeks at the way he called you baby while undressing you. He moves your hands away, a cocky smile on his face. "What's got you all shy now hmm?"

"You can't just call me baby like that" you breathe, watching him in a daze as he trailed kisses down between the valley of your breasts, barely covered by the crop top you wore. 

"Why not?" he mumbles against your skin, nipping and licking at any spot he can get access. You keen into his touch, your waist instinctively following the warmth of his mouth. 

You hum, forcing the words to come to you, but he's making you feel so good. "Gives me butterflies" you murmur. "B-but, like lower?" brows furrowed.

Eddies head shoots up to look at you when he hears that. Your eyes are closed and your head is tilted back so you can't see him look at you. "Lower?" he asks trailing a finger from your sternum down to your waist.

"Yeah" you nod and sigh.

Eddie coos "You tellin' me I give your pussy butterflies?" His hand continues down you until his palm pushes against your clit. You know he's smirking, you know he's looking up at you, but you can't open your eyes to look.

You hate the way pussy rolls of his tongue, but you hate the way it makes your stomach flip more, and the pathetic noise of a whimper that leaves you when he says it. 

"Can we, c-could y-you" your trying to get the words out but your arousal fogs your mind, the only thing there is Eddie.

"What is it baby, what do you need?" his thumb swipes at your clit and you mewl. 

You finally open your eyes, tilting your head to your shoulder to look at him. His eyes are down where his thumb is connected to you, watching in awe the way your cunt literally shines for him. His eyes flick back up quickly and he smiles when he sees you looking back at him. 

"Can we have sex?" you say quickly and so very quiet Eddie almost doesn't catch it. 

"Do you want to?" He asks seriously. 

You nod. "I feel like I'm on fire, I want to feel you, I need it" you say it so surely that Eddie has to bite his tongue from declaring his love for you right then and there, so instead he just nods leaning back onto his knees, too far away from you for your liking and you pout. 

"Show me how you touch yourself first" he says while reaching behind him to pull his shirt over his head.

"What!?" you prop yourself up onto your elbows, mouth agape in shock knees knocking together.

"Show me" he says with a nod, eyes flicking down to your slick pussy that he can still see despite your attempt to hide it, and then back up to you. "How you touch yourself" his words are slow, just like his hands as they undo his belt, pulling it out of its loops and chucking it onto the floor. 

You hesitate still, watching him while he pops the button of his jeans and pulls at them so the zipper slides down. "Listen, I'm sure I can figure it out myself, but I'd have a better chance at making you cum if you show me" he smirks. 

That smug bastard. It takes everything in you to keep your voice steady but when you speak, you don't break eye contact and say "I'd rather you put your mouth on me instead" 

He falters only slightly. It's the way his smile drops just barely at the corner of his mouth and the way his cheeks flush that you're able to catch it. He laughs in disbelief, tugging his jeans down just a little to relieve some pressure, exposing the soft happy trail just below his belly button.

You bite your lip and hum at the sight, dreaming about the way it would feel if you dragged your tongue over it. "I don't know if I can wait that long though" you admit, sighing when you look back up at him. 

"Wait that long for what?" he says slowly crawling his way back on top of you, knee slotting perfectly between your legs. You flinch when the fabric of his jeans makes contact with your clit.

"Tell me what you're waiting for hmm?" he asked, that stupid smirk you already know is plastered on his face. 

You're getting needy, and Eddie is memorizing every sound and movement you make because of it. Determined to get you like this as often as you'll let him. "Please" you whine, and you curse yourself for the tears you feel prick at the corner of your lashes. 

"Please what" he crowds your space, enveloping you in all of him. 

"Please sir? Please Daddy? Please Master? Please Eddie?" you rush frustrated. "I n-need you Eds please" 

"Fuck" he breathes, head falling until his forehead is resting against your shoulder. "You sure?" he asks again, looking back at you for reassurance. 

"Yeah" you lick your lips, mouth dry with excitement. "I'm sure"

"It- Um, okay, I might not last very long" he says bashfully, leaning back from you to lean over to his bedside table, picking out a shiny packet and tossing it onto the bed next to you. 

"I don't care" you shake your head smiling, you're so blissed out, you can't imagine how you'll feel when he gets to fuck you properly but that's for another day.

He huffs a laugh, pulling back from you to take his jeans and boxers off. You admire him, finally getting a glance at what you've been dreaming of. His dick is perfect needless to say, but you can't help the nerves that bloom in your stomach about what the two of you are about to do. 

Eddie catches the change in your eyes and is quick to reassure you, with a hand on your knee, resting his chin on it and giving it a squeeze. "Hey, it'll be okay, we'll go slow okay? If it sucks, just tell me, I'll wait forever for this, as long as its with you"

Your eyes water at his sincerity and he panics slightly when he sees your bottom lip wobble. "Baby, hey, come here" he lays next to you and pulls you into him, and you gladly hide your face into the crook of his shoulder, sniffing slightly. 

"You're so sweet to me" you say quietly.

"Well it's cause I love you" he says, and you both still for a moment, because that's the first time those words have been fully and truthfully spoken with romantic intent. 

"You love me?" you ask, leaning back to look up at him. Even though he just said it, and you know it's the truth, it's what you've been waiting to hear for the last three years. 

He nods and smiles, his cheeks pink as he says "I do"

You giggle. "I love you to"

"Gross" he says before leaning down to kiss you quick. "Wanna try?"

"Yeah" you take a breath. "Yeah, I'm ready, m'just nervous that it's going to hurt" you admit. 

"It might, but tell me if it's too much okay? If I had known this was going to be happening today I would have restocked my lube"

You snort at his unfiltered self, never afraid to say what he's thinking.

It's shaky hands and fumbling movements, shoving your faded sea creature themed comforter you always brought with you for sleep overs, down as far as it could go. It's the first time the two of you have seen each other like this, the tension building over the last three years as the two of you pretended you weren't head over heels for each other it felt like you could explode.

"Can I take this off?" he asks, hands slipping under the sides of your shirt. 

You nod, lifting yourself up to fling it over your head and onto his floor, and he drinks in the sight of your bare chest. He stares for a moment, just taking you in, like he's dreamed about.

"You're acting like you've never seen a pair of tits before" you tease.

"I've seen plenty of tits" he scoffs. "but I haven't seen such perfect tits before" and he dives in, kissing every inch of them, mouthing at the skin, and licking each of your nipples until you're keening into his touch. He only stops when you whimper because he knows you're growing needier by the second. 

"I know m'sorry" he says breathlessly against your sternum. Sitting back up onto his knees he reaches for the condom next to you, tearing the wrapper by the corner and pulling out the slippery latex circle. You watch as he slips it on so quickly, like he's done this a million times, and just before you can ask "I've practiced" he says with a smirk, coming back to rest between the safety of your thighs, hugging his hips perfectly. 

"Ready?" he asks. 

"Yeah" you nod with a smile. 

"Okay" he breathes. "Fuck, yeah, okay, okay" he takes his cock into his hand, pushing it through your slick folds and the two of you moan in unison. Gathering your arousal l until he dips just below to your entrance, looking back up at you for approval. 

You nod again. "That's the right spot" you encourage and he laughs. 

"Tell me if you need me to stop okay?"

"I will baby I promise"

he leans over you quickly to kiss you, because how could he not when you just called him baby like that? Slowly he pushes the head of his cock against you. Just the slight pressure of his cock feels good but it doesn't erase the nerves bubbling through you as Eddie pushes in more.

"Sh-it" you say through gritted teeth. 

"D'you want me to stop?"

"No no, sorry, just, weird feeling, never had anything so um" you giggle and Eddies eyes panicky search yours, because why are you laughing when his dick is about to enter you. 

"Please don't tell me my dick is small, not now, I couldn't handle it" 

You laugh again but louder, switching to a moan when Eddies own laughter causes him to push in a little more. Your hands coming up to hold his biceps. 

"I've never had anything so big in me" 

"Don't flatter me" he teases.

"Oh fuck off" you slap his arm before returning your hand back to it.

He slips in inch by inch, and it doesn't not hurt, but it doesn't feel entirely great either. It's a mixture of pain and pleasure, with the oddest comforting feeling of him so deep inside you. 

"Fucking christ" Eddie breathes when he bottoms out, arms shaking from where they hold himself up above you. "If I move I'm cumming in like thirty seconds, tops"

You laugh and he groans at the feeling of your cunt squeezing around him. 

"Fuck, don't, you can't laugh" he says, but you can't help it especially when he says it through a laugh himself. 

"Stop making me laugh then!" you quip. 

And so he does, slipping one hand between your two bodies until he finds your slippery clit, rubbing circles that has you embarrassingly and shockingly close to cumming. Your back arches with a gasp, another pornographic moan leaving you as Eddie continues his movements. Eventually slowly pulling himself out an inch before going back in. You don't even realize he's doing it until one thrust and clench of your cunt happen at the same time and you almost choke on your spit at how good it feels. 

"Holy shit" you breathe. 

"I know" Eddie says through a laugh of disbelief. 

A thick heat engulfs your body, sweat forming between your two bodies, and you feel everything in you begin to tremble. 

"You okay?" he says from the crook of your neck.

"Uh-huh" you nod with a hiccup.

Eddie pulls himself from your neck to look at you, concerned with the sad noise that you made. He slows down and you open your eyes, blinking rapidly to clear the tears that blur your vision. They slide down the sides of your temples, and fade into your hairline. Eddies hand comes up to wipe away at the tears, pushing your hair out of your face. 

"Baby, baby, what's going on?"

"M'okay" you say though a small sob. "Just feels really good" you admit. 

"Yeah?" He says picking his speed back up. 

"You're gunna make me cum I think" You say craning your neck to look at where the two of you are connected, his trimmed pubes, wet against yours with your arousal. You slide your hand down to rub at your clit, and the sensation is almost so intense you want to stop, but you're so close. 

"Keep doing that baby, come on" he grunts, gritting his teeth as he fucks into you harder once he realizes you can take it. And boy can you take it.

"Yes, oh- ohmygod!" you whine, head falling back against his pillows. "Please please please please-" You chant. You're not sure if you're asking Eddie for permission or yourself, but him approving it doesn't sound too bad. 

"Come on, you're so close I can feel it" he watches as your legs tremble, slowly moving up, up, up, until your knees are under your chin, toes pointed against his thighs like you're trying to push yourself away from him while your hands cling to his biceps to bring you closer. When you start bouncing yourself back on eddies cock in time with his thrusts he knows he's going to lose it. 

"Cum on this cock pretty girl, come on" his voice shakes, and he's losing his rhythm. 

"I'm- oh I'm- fuck Eddie!" The hand that still holds him grips tightly, nails digging into his skin, and he can feel it start to burn but he doesn't care. 

"Fuck yeah baby, look at you, you're so hot, fucking christ, god, you're amazing, m'gunna cum, shit" he babbles before he cums, spilling more words and expletives as he spills himself inside the condom, inside of you, his words warm against your chest.

Its quiet apart from the two of you catching your breath, relaxing your muscles, and the only time either of you make a noise is when Eddie lifts his head from you, bangs stuck to his forehead in every direction and you can't help but laugh. 

"What?" He says smiling back at you, absolutely in love. 

"You look a mess" you say snorting, pushing his hair away from his face. 

"You look sexy" he says leaning up from you, slowly pulling himself out of you and removing the condom, tying it in a knot and chucking it into his garbage can next to his bed. You make a small whimper of disapproval when he leans back again, thinking he's going to get up. 

"Not going anywhere pretty" he says reaching for the blanket that had been pushed off his bed, bringing it back up, and cuddling it up around you before sliding himself under it next to you. 

You scooch over until you can lay your head on his chest, leg hitching up over his waist and you can feel your arousal leak out of you and probably onto him but you're too blissed out to care.

"I love you" you murmur softly into his skin, placing delicate kisses.

"Hmm?" he lolls his head to the side, eyes sleepy and fond, thumb rubbing gently across your cheek. 

"I love you" you say looking up at him, cheek smushed against his chest. 

"I love you right back" he says without a beat. 

#hellfiremunsonn #Eddie Munson #Stranger Things #Eddie Munson fic #Stranger Things fic #Eddie Munson smut #Eddie Munson x you #Eddie Munson x fem reader #Eddie Munson x reader #Stranger Things smut #Eddie Munson fan fiction #Stranger things fan fiction #Joseph Quinn #Eddie Munson Stranger Things #Stranger Things Eddie Munson

[astonmartinii]

no more ace to play [mamma mia part two] | formula one social media au

drivers: sebastian vettel, fernando alonso and jenson button

the investigation was fruitful but now y/n has a handful of drivers and a bucket load of criticism

general note: i answered an ask about this but i thought i'd reiterate here, this is a no wives or kids au, so seb and jenson's wives and kids do not exist in this !! thank you so much for all the lovely feedback on the last part, hopefully i remembered to tag everyone who asked x

part one | masterlist | ko-fi

yourusername

liked by sebastianvettel, jensonbutton and 1.405,605 others

tagged: fernandoalo_oficial, sebastianvettel, jensonbutton

yourusername: so i guess it's kinda real now and they're all lovely x

view all comments

user4: i know the bitter old people are going to find this now but i for one think it's fucking ICONIC

user5: the guys are way too chill for the situation

user6: they've not said anything, so how would you know?

user5: idk reeks of babytrapping

user7: be for real y/n doesn't need to baby trap anyone she has her own career?

yourbff: debrief needed STAT

yourusername: literally on my way to yours right now get the non-alcoholic wine READY

landonorris: do i like get a prize for my hand in this?

yourusername: here's a gold star ⭐️

landonorris: i was hoping for some monetary rewards

yourusername: ur literally a millionaire ?

landonorris: and?

user8: are any of them gonna like comment or?

user9: very odd considering they wouldn't shut THE FUCK UP on their own posts

user10: for real they were very proud of their 'accomplishments' but now it's the consequences of their actions and theyre silent ?

user11: have yall considered the fact that finding out you might be a dad is a bit of a shock, let them all process it?

jensonbutton

liked by lewishamilton, sebastianvettel and 302,889 others

jensonbutton: back to see the old rides

view all comments

user12: SPILL JENSON PLEASE

user13: so like what team is this kid going to support they've got so much to choose from?

user14: if they have any taste, ferrari 💅

user15: i mean their momma clearly has taste so ....

oscarpiastri: nice to meet you jenson!

jensonbutton: by how much mark talks about you i could've sworn i'd already met you

aussiegrit: bold of you to send shots my way considering your current predicament

user16: mark saying this like they aren't lucky to be with y/n ?

user17: bro we all saw that you met up with y/n and the baby daddy squad... wanna maybe share some thoughts?

user18: why would he want to publicise that he got with a slag?

user17: i know you're not calling y/n a slag when we're talking about f1 playboy JENSON BUTTON ?

user19: i have complete faith that this mamma mia summer WILL have a good ending but i NEED these men to maybe actually talk about it so people aren't just out here coming for y/n ?

yourusername

liked by fernandoalo_oficial, jensonbutton and 1,209,677 others

yourusername: got myself a sweet treat and did some meditation (i.e. listening to asmr roleplay) because life is crazy and morning sickness is a bitch

view all comments

user24: not to be sappy but i am emotional watching y/n go through this, she's been on the internet for so long i feel like i've watched her grow up, idk anything about f1 but i hope they're good for her

yourbff: gosh who knew you getting pregnant would lead to us having to go to the bakery every single morning

yourusername: but but but they have such good croissants and SHUSH I BUY YOU YOURS EVERYDAY

yourbff: i know you're like my sugar mama, please still buy me pastries when you have your actual child

user25: i think we're all being a wee bit dramatic about the whole "they haven't said anything" business. yes, they probably should say they're fine with it so people stop accusing y/n of baby trapping them but ALSO we don't know what they do everyday, maybe we should just let the adults go about their business

charles_leclerc: i am basically seb's kid so i shall be a character witness: that man is an ANGEL and believe me that took a lot for me to say in public lol

yourusername: why thank you charles, i have heard a lot about you. in fact on his "provisional dad cv", sebastian directly named you, some guys called max verstappen, mick schumacher and lance stroll as fatherly experience

maxverstappen1: LOL I KNEW SEB LOVED ME BUT WTF IS A DAD CV

sebastianvettel: this is a serious matter and i wanted to show that i'm serious about fatherhood

mickschumacher: soz max, charles and lance i think WE all know who his favourite is

lancestroll: i'm just happy to be recognised tbf

yourusername: well i kinda hope this real child will be his favourite...

charles_leclerc: boring 🥱

alexalbon: well i'm gonna nominate myself as jenson's grid kid and woah that guy is great 👍

jensonbutton: sounds kinda sarcastic but thanks for the effort alex

carlossainz55: seeing as we're all here i'll say that nando is the best grid dad sorry not sorry

yourusername: you're all here but idk who you people are ?

fernandoalo_oficial: chilli have i ever told you how proud i am of you?

stoffelvandoorne: do i mean nothing to you old man

user26: wtf is going on here

fernandoalo_oficial

liked by yourusername, sebastianvettel and 1,403,677 others

fernandoalo_oficial: what a race! thankful to finally be back on the podium this weekend and i'd like to dedicate this race to the soon-to-be new addition and my new family, here's to our future ❤️

view all comments

user27: HOLY SHIT THIS IS SO CUTE

user28: i'm sorry the THUMB IN THE MOUTH CELEBRATION ARE YOU KIDDING?

jensonbutton: proud of you, come home quick x

user29: i'm sooooo chill about this

fernandoalo_oficial: i'll make sure to tell the team that THE jenson button wants the meeting to go faster

sebastianvettel: do i mean nothing? that's literally my old team name drop ME

yourusername: just tell them i've gone into labour

fernandoalo_oficial: you've not even been pregnant two months yet...

yourusername: they don't know that

astonmartinf1: this is a public instagram comment section...

maxverstappen1: maybe when the little one is actually here i'll let you win for once

fernandoalo_oficial: how kind of you?

maxverstappen1: i need the little one to know that at least one of you is cool and that i should be their favourite god father

lewishamilton: now that is a bold assumption

danielricciardo: i have been quiet on this topic but if anyone is prime god father material YOU'RE LOOKING AT HIM

yourusername: you'll all receive an email and a god father application in the coming weeks

charles_leclerc: is this another seb idea?

yourusername: maybe... but idk yall so i think it's a good idea

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, mickschumacher and 1,509,874 others

tagged: jensonbutton, fernandoalo_oficial, sebastianvettel

yourusername: welcome to the crazy house

view all comments

user33: so we've confirmed the poly? yes or no?

user34: i'm gonna say yes but with them you literally never know

georgerussell63: so we all sent them a jellycat?

alexalbon: speak for yourself george that sick ass rocking bunny is all albon

user35: not to be weird but this kids is literally going to have the hottest parents of all time

user36: no cause if i'm a teacher and all of them walk in for parent's evening i'm passing out

jensonbutton: oh wow what a lovely crib i wonder who put that together

fernandoalo_oficial: don't you dare take all the credit

sebastianvettel: as if anyone other than the WOOD WORK KING put that together

yourusername: guys they are lying the delivery guy put it together and they all stood around watching like dads at the airport

jensonbutton: "like dads" so still getting the experience in

danielricciardo: so who is responsible for this grandpa ass nursery aesthetic?

yourusername: well this is awkward i thought it was cute

fernandoalo_oficial: it is don't worry honey, it matches seb's overall grandpa aesthetic

sebastianvettel: you guys agreed to move to mine don't switch up on my aesthetic now

jensonbutton: oh seb we all love your certain affinity for tartan and plaid

sebastianvettel: i'm not feeling this love right now :(

yourusername: cuddle pile incoming

note: ahhh okay this was very highly requested so i hope it met expectations. i'm thinking this could defo be a longer series (i am also working on into the arms of another dw) following the whole family if yall would like that? i'm gonna try and tag everyone who requested that, i am sorry if i missed anyone x

taglist: @boiohboii @vellicora @faithm120601 @raizelchrysanderoctavius @luv4kani @minkyungseokie @eugene-emt-roe @magical-spit @ironmaiden1313 @jaydaaasworld @whoreks @rainerax @nonsensical-nonsence @laneyspaulding19 @chelseyyouraverageluigi @lxclerc @gemofthenight @woweewoowa

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 instagram au #f1 x you #f1 #sebastian vettel instagram au #sebastian vettel x reader #sebastian vettel #sebastian vettel imagine #sebastian vettel x you #fernando alonso instagram au #fernando alonso x reader #fernando alonso imagine #fernando alonso #jenson button instagram au #jenson button x reader #jenson button imagine #mamma mia au #astonmartinii

[reachartwork]

how to write fight scenes

many people have told me that Chum has good fight scenes. a small subset of those people have asked me on advice for how to write fight scenes. i am busy procrastinating, so i have distilled my general ethos on fight scenes into four important points. followed by a homework assignment.

Fight scenes take place on two axii - the physical and the intellectual. For the most interesting fight scenes, neither character should have a full inventory of the other's abilities, equipment, fighting style, etc. This gives you an opportunity to pull out surprises, but, more importantly, turns each fight into a jockeying of minds, as all characters involved have to puzzle out what's going on in real time. This is especially pertinent for settings with power systems. It feels more earned if the characters are trying to deduce the limitations and reach of the opponent's power rather than the opponent simply explaining it to them (like in Bleach. Don't do that). 1a. Have characters be incorrect in their assumptions sometimes, leading to them making mistakes that require them to correct their internal models of an opponent under extreme pressure. 1b. If you really have to have a character explain their powers to someone there should be a damn good reason for it. The best reason is "they are lying". The second best reason is "their power requires it for some reason".

Make sure your blows actually have weight. When characters are wailing at each other for paragraphs and paragraphs and nothing happens, it feels like watching rock 'em sock 'em robots. They beat each other up, and then the fight ends with a decisive blow. Not interesting! Each character has goals that will influence what their victory condition is, and each character has a physical body that takes damage over the course of a fight. If someone is punched in the gut and coughs up blood, that's an injury! It should have an impact on them not just for the fight but long term. Fights that go longer than "fist meets head, head meets floor" typically have a 'break-down' - each character getting sloppier and weaker as they bruise, batter, and break their opponent, until victory is achieved with the last person standing. this keeps things tense and interesting.

I like to actually plan out my fight scenes beat for beat and blow for blow, including a: the thought process of each character leading to that attempted action, b: what they are trying to do, and c: how it succeeds or fails. In fights with more than two people, I like to use graph paper (or an Excel spreadsheet with the rows turned into squares) to keep track of positions and facings over time.

Don't be afraid to give your characters limitations, because that means they can be discovered by the other character and preyed upon, which produces interesting ebbs and flows in the fight. A gunslinger is considerably less useful in a melee with their gun disarmed. A swordsman might not know how to box if their sword is destroyed. If they have powers, consider what they have to do to make them activate, if it exhausts them to use, how they can be turned off, if at all. Consider the practical applications. Example: In Chum, there are many individuals with pyrokinetic superpowers, and none of them have "think something on fire" superpowers. Small-time filler villain Aaron McKinley can ignite anything he's looking at, and suddenly the fight scenes begin constructing themselves, as Aaron's eyes and the direction of his gaze become an incredibly relevant factor.

if you have reached this far in this essay I am giving you homework. Go watch the hallway fight in Oldboy and then novelize it. Then, watch it again every week for the rest of your life, and you will become good at writing fight scenes.

as with all pieces of advice these are not hard and fast rules (except watching the oldboy hallway fight repeatedly) but general guidelines to be considered and then broken when it would produce an interesting outcome to do so.

okay have a good day. and go read chum.

#writing #creative writing #writing tip #writing prompt #pro tip! #long post

[submalevolentgrace]

Hi! I'm very interested in attempting to write a disabled character (not for this blog, I assure, for an book I'm writing) in which the story doesn't fetishize/objectify her prosthetic limb. I'm in many writing circles and have been for a long while, but I've never seen this issue brought to light which I realise is a very important one. I have much to change in my thought process, and thank you for bringing this issue to attention.

I'm curious, and I apologise if this has been asked before, but what sort of design could you see for a functional prosthetic that doesn't go for a plainly aesthetic appearance, or is soully to please others? I do note that you said prosthetics are generally... not that helpful. So is there a way that it could be? Or do you think it would always generally be better to not use a prosthetic, as its mostly for aesthetic purposes, as you said?

I apologise if this ask is too outright or anything, and I don't mean to intrude. Thank you for your time and have a beautiful day!

okay, i want to answer this as in depth as possible, because whenever i talk about having a prosthesis, someone will always tag some variation of "#writing reference" and i do wonder what message they're taking away, and i want to get as much of my experience out as possible to maybe help shape how this is all portrayed in the future. and yeah… this is gonna be one of those rambly smg posts that the expand feature was invented for, so i'll start with the very abridged TL;DR:

if you're writing a character with an upper limb prosthesis; don't. arm amputees are unicorn level rare even compared to leg amputees, and i've never interacted with or even heard of an upper limb amputee that regularly uses a prosthesis, let alone relies on one. fiction has lied to you for the sake of cool aesthetics, don't repeat the cycle. more in depth writing advice including nuance and "but i waaaant to" will follow.

that said, grab your donning parachute and let's get started...

context for everyone involved: i am an upper limb amputee that rants a lot about how prostheses suck, i lost my right hand roughly five years ago at roughly the age of 30 after a very rough decline in health… it was pretty rough. this question is being asked in the context of a previous rant post of mine, and i checked that the ask is about an upper limb prosthesis in particular.

the situation regarding the usefulness of lower limb prostheses is totally different; i am definitely no expert, but by all accounts, prosthetic legs are incredibly useful for many people. getting a good leg can be absolutely life changing and more or less necessary for day to day life for some; mostly because infrastructure and society is just so fucking hostile to wheelchair users. being able to walk - at the cost of pressure sores and rashes and increased residual limb pain - is a preferable option to many people than being unable to fit through a doorway or in a bathroom stall or find out that the key to unlock the only elevator is in the admin office up three flights of stairs (true story).

but upper limb prostheses… see, the thing is, hands are incredibly complex organs that rely on a lot of immediate haptic feedback to work at all. hand dexterity is all about control, you need fine granular movements of the digits yes, but you also need the subtle sensations of pressure and proprioception in order to adjust your movements on the fly. i speak from experience, in the years leading up to the full loss of my hand, i was slowly losing function of it, usually swinging between numbness that made it clumsy at best, or screaming overstimulation from moving it at all resulting in unpredictable spasms… and let me tell you, a half working hand is infuriating to try and deal with. you can never know if you have a good grip on something or if it's slipping because of the wrong amount of pressure, and there's only so many smashed bottles of pickles on the floor before you give up using it all together… so amputation wasn't a great loss there, i had time to adapt.

a prosthetic hand of any kind has all of those issues and more. they're heavy and bulky, the cosmetic faux fingers or gripping claw have crude movement at best, and there's zero feedback (put a pin in this). 100% of the time you're using a prosthetic hand you have to keep your eyes on the grip and visually guesstimate whether or not the thing you're carrying is held tight enough but not too tight, that is if your "heavy duty" prosthesis can even support the weight without the servos disengaging or the wrist attachment socket just busting loose. i dropped a whippersnipper on my foot last week when my socket couldn't take the weight and i think that was the final straw in me desperately trying to prove to myself that there is a single task my prosthesis actually helps with.

this is usually where fully two handed people start talking about bleeding edge DARPA tech, and how we just need to invest more,research more, develop more. better tech, more tech, neural integration, more more more. okay i promise the writing advice is coming! for starters on tech, my experience is already with a mid-to-high end ottobock terminal device: i've got a myoelectric nerve-signal operated proportional control heavy duty greifer; about the only upgrade left for me to get would be a rotating wrist joint if i could coflex. it's not military, it's not "rockclimber that owns a prosthetic company", but it's quality tech. it still fucking sucks. secondly, that high level military tech exists primary for PR purposes so they can say they treat their discarded casualties well, "we can rebuild him, we have the technology" style. every war vet i've read about or heard from that's been gifted that high level tech also abandons it for the same reasons; it's imprecise, there's no feedback (or the haptic interface has to be fully recalibrated every time they put it on), but mostly they're more capable without one.

okay, the transhumanist ableds say (i should know, i used to be one), what if we did more ~research and development~ and got that neural feedback working? then we could have fireproof superhumanly strong robot arms to fix up everyone! here's where i take out that pin we put up before and i tell you that a class of prosthetic arms/hands already exists that has perfect proportional control, fine motor control, and physics perfect pressure feedback piped directly into the patients' existing sensory systems! they're called body-powered prostheses, and they were invented in like the 1600s. you strap a whole bunch of stuff to your arm and shoulders shoulders, and control the operation of the terminal device and elbow through cable tension by flexing your shoulders. they do take a considerable amount of training to operate - though hell i spent 18 months training to use my myo - but based on everything i've read, body-powered prostheses are the best option if you're an upper limb amputee and absolutely need a second hand for some reason.

but they don't look cool and futuristic, and according to my prosthetist, most people give up on using them too. we all give up on our prostheses, no matter the type. my rehab OT was impressed i lasted the 18 months of my training. towards the end, they even asked if the clinic director could drop in to one of my sessions to see my progress; he expressed genuine amazement at me casually using my bulky robot claw to use a brush and dustpan, and made an offhanded (hah) comment about what someone can achieve "if they stick it out to the end", implying it was somewhat of a rarity for me to have done so. several years on, and yesterday i wedged the dustpan between my ankles to sweep up into it, awkward but exponentially less effort than putting my dusty robot arm on. which, by the way, is a whole thing. look up some videos, they're all awful to don. i don't actually know the official technical name of what my clinic calls a "parachute" but it's a bitch to use! have you ever tried to pull back with your arm whilst also pushing it forwards at the same time, and simultaneously lean in to and away from an external force pulling on you? that's how you get a myo socket on.

bare with me, i promise writing advice is coming, and i promise it's more than the tl;dr. but. remember when i said a half working hand is infuriating to deal with? any prosthesis, from fancy myo tech to pirate-era body powered, will only ever be half as good as a working hand, and being juuuust within capability to do something but not quite able to is maddening! but you know what works way better than a half working hand? no hand at all. using whatever residual/vestigial limb you have - whatever "stump" you have, i hate that word - is pretty much always better than trying to use a prosthesis. i can use the inside of my elbow to grip and carry things, i can use the nub of my arm to apply pressure to hold things, open doors, use a computer mouse, turn on taps and lights, if i put a glove over it i can use it to prep for cooking. i have full proprioception and pressure feedback with skin contact, i don't think i've ever dropped and broken anything from my elbow, unlike countless things slipped from my greifer - which, by the way, absolutely will start clenching as tight as it can if i get even slightly too sweaty around the electrodes, which has both broken things i'm holding and also injured me, because surprise surprise but servo operated robot claws have pinch points on them right near the "emergency disengage" lever for some reason!

but i am exponentially more capable without it on than with it. no, i'm not fully independent, i rely on housemates and loved ones to help me out with some tasks that simply just need two handed dexterity, but none of those tasks are things a prosthesis makes me able to do anyway. i used to imagine my prosthesis would be like a bra; a bit awkward and uncomfortable, but i'd wear it throughout the day because it's helpful and take it off in the evening to decompress. in reality it's actually exactly like a bra: an absolute bitch to put on one handed, unbearably uncomfortable because it never sits right, ugly af unless you're a millionaire, and absolutely useless except for the fact that i get gawked at and judged by strangers if i leave the house without it on.

and if you really want to discover how far "no hand is better than a half working hand" goes, brace yourself, and look up the patient's stories (not medical system stories) of people that have had hand transplants. the first man to receive one hated it, he was promised a return to normal function, and what he got was a nightmare worse than being one handed; he wanted it removed again but the doctors refused because it would undermine their grand achievement of the first hand transplant. the doctors and society wanted him to be fixed, they wanted him to be normal, they wanted him to be abled. they failed. they made him less able to do things, denied his autonomy, and left him with someone else's hand slowly rotting on him, prioritising the idea of "scientific progress" and "two hands good" over the physical health, mental health, and ability to function of this man.

he's not alone; every story from the patients' perspective about hand transplants that i've read goes this way, including a woman who was born quad limb different and was promised hands would improve her life, pressured into a double hand transplant, only to find herself after the surgery essentially experiencing disability for the first time ever, because she had lived her whole life getting by just fine with her 'underdeveloped' limbs, but half working hands are worse than useless. you can try to find these stories yourself, but i'm not going looking for sources on any of these cases, because if you look back through enough of my posts you'll get a glimpse of the horrors and abuses that i too was put through by doctors who prioritised trying to "fix" me at any cost, rather than providing me the best quality of life, and in turn traumatised me and left me more broken than any loss of limb on its own could. dear goddess, i promise the writing advice is coming.

so. why do upper limb prostheses exist at all? if they're so terrible and useless, what is their function? i want to borrow something someone else left in the tags of a previous rant here, from someone who i believe works in prosthetics and/or rehab, cleaned up and anonymised at their request:

"upper limb functions are wildly more complex than: 1) bear weight static, and 2) bear weight moving. but every single upper limb amputee i know has a fancy expensive prosthetic just gathering dust in the closet because there is literally nothing it can do like a few years of adjustment and if needed non-dominant hand retraining can't do. the existence of forquarter prosthetics to begin with is just kind of silly and useless and entirely to make OTHER people feel comfortable, especially considering they universally are UNcomfortable for the amputee. i hate the notion that as soon as you get the amputation the prosthetic is The Thing That Will Fix You And Make You Feel Normal again because it universally isn't! but every forequarter person i know had like this ideal of Being Fixed By Magic Prosthetic that they were then obviously wildly disappointed by and had to do yet another grieving process with, versus if the dominant narrative were just one of: yeah. it'll take time, there is no magic fix."

and i think that really nails down what the actual purpose of upper limb prostheses is: they're not for the user, they're for the sake of other people. and not just their comfort when looking at our bodies, although based on the pressure for both amputees and people born limb different to get functionless cosmetic plastic hands, there is a lot of that. but it's not just that.

i fully believe that the reason prosthetic hands exists is to comfort the fears of the two handed. "don't worry", they say, "we can fix you again. you don't have to fear becoming Disabled, you don't have to worry about adapting or your life changing. we can make you Normal™ again."

you would not believe the number of people that have approached me to shower me with pity, to tell me how horrific my life is, how they can't imagine it. people have told me, apropos of nothing, that they'd kill themselves if they lost a hand. indirectly, that my life isn't worth living. unless, of course, i happen to be wearing my cool as fuck looking robot prosthesis! then they tell me how wonderful it is, how lucky i am, how glad they are that we have the technology to fix me. that's what a prosthetic hand says, what all the happy fishing photos on limbs4life posters at the rehab clinic say: don't worry, we can fix you. that's what the bleeding edge DARPA flexi-whatever fully articulated neuro-feedback hands say: don't worry if you get IED'd while hunting civilians for us to drone bomb, if you get hurt, we will fix you, we will fix the fuck out of you, we will motherfucking adam jensen you into a cool as fuck cyborg that your son will idolise; come on boys, don't you wanna enlist just for the chance at being as cool as this? join the bomb squad for a ticket to the upgrade lottery.

and so we arrive at fiction. as much as his dialogue options protest, adam jensen loves his robot arms, they punch through walls, turn into fucking swords! they make him the most special man in the world. what would he do without them? learn to cope? grieve? practice acceptance? take up poetry? just, be disabled? there's no power fantasy for ableds in that.

in fact, can you think of a single fictional character that's an upper limb amputee that's, well, just an amputee? they all have robot arms. not realistic prostheses, not medical devices; robot arms. sleek or bulky, top of the line or broken down self built, steampunk or nanomachines or magitech automail; they're never without them. never just an amputee. never born limb different either! there's always that element of tragedy to overcome, always suffering and misery porn, always focus on the pain and the helplessness without the absolutely vital robot arm that makes them Normal and Whole. the closest amputee example i can think of is furiosa from mad max, who iirc fucking punches max in the face with her residual limb like a motherfucking badass! i can barely lean on mine wrong and she punches a guy! but she still apparently needs a dieselpunk robot hand to drive a truck, something you can do one handed so easily most drivers don't even notice they're doing it! please don't, by the way

and so many disabled fans love to point to robot armed characters as disability representation; the winter soldier, luke skywalker, edward elric, misty knight, that genderswapped furry girl from ratchet and clank, jet cowboybebop, finn the human, and yes, adam jensen…. these are all characters that someone disabled i know has told me they love because they "represent disabled bodies"…. and i know nobody wants to hear this, because i've been screamed at for saying it before, but… they do not. they are not disabled, functionally or within fiction. they are either perfectly able bodied Normal people with chrome paint on an arm, or tortured misery porn we are supposed to pity and feel lucky we're not them. sometimes both!

also you ever notice how it's basically always arms? lower limb amputations are orders of magnitude more common than upper, my prosthetist said i was probably only the 4th or 5th upper limb she'd worked with in her career, with literally hundreds of lower limb fits. but fiction doesn't seem to reflect that, huh? or any other part of the reality of disability. it's always cool as fuck robot arms, never cool as fuck wheelchairs or crutches or dialysis machines or colostomy bags. a fair few "i was blind but now i can see with Robot Eyes and also infrared and xray" around, which again, plays into that "we can fix you and make you cooler" propaganda.

by the way, up above when i was describing body powered arms, if you wondered to yourself why i went with a myoelectric one instead when i clearly believe body powered is better… yeah. i am not immune to propaganda! i too wanted to be cool as fuck. i spent years with deteriorating function in my hand for reasons that are still unknown, was misdiagnosed and medically neglected to the point that removing my hand seemed to be the only option left to offer some relief, and even that was a clusterfuck that left me worse than ever… of course i wanted to believe in the power and prestige of a cool robot arm that fiction promised me.

but fiction promises fantastical lies. and so.

we get to the writing advice portion of the novella that is this post. you asked for advice on how to write a disabled character with an upper limb prosthesis. you've read the tl;dr, you've read everything above i assume, you know i don't want you to do it. the obvious twist is that it's been writing advice all along, me trying to share my perspective on what it's like being an amp with a robot arm and how shitty it is, implying how almost any fully realised and realistic character that's missing an upper limb would give up on a prosthesis at all. you can already tell that every value judgement in me says "don't give her a prosthesis, no matter how functional or cool you make it. don't try to make the tech better to justify it, just let her be one armed, one handed. just let her be disabled, but not helpless. let her show off her elbow or underarm carry strength. let her love interest appreciate how soft and squishy her residual limb is in a moment of tenderness. let her natural disabled body be respected and valued."

but that's a personal value judgement from me, and you are the author of your own work. i know it's trite to say, but you are! even the act of deferring to someone with lived experience in the hope of doing a better job at representation is a value judgement, a good choice in my opinion, but one you needn't necessarily take. maybe you do want to write a character that has a cool as fuck unrealistic robot arm as a power fantasy, or a comfort blanket… i did.

i've been slowly writing my own probably terrible scifi epic for over a decade now, and when my arm was giving me hell back then, i'd take great comfort in this fantasy of my protagonist with her chunky robot arm, the terrible traumatic suffering of her loss, overcoming, the power and ability her advanced prosthesis gives her over others, that she alone has access to, because others are not willing to make the sacrifices required. inspiration porn. awful stuff to me now, but empowering to me then. as i grew and gained direct experience, i slowly reimagined her, rewrote her, ship of theseus'd her into an entirely new character; a reflection of me now, bitter at the whole thing, spiteful that her natural flesh arm evokes fear and distrust, but unwilling to suffer the pain and frustration of her unnatural prosthesis just to make others comfortable and respect her as "whole", however artificial that whole is. and as with the ship of theseus being two ships, once i realised the transformation, i re-added the old protagonist back in whole cloth as a separate character; proud of her robot arm and its power, but in new context, as a foil and antagonist, an in-universe military prosthesis propaganda figure to reflect how i now feel characters like her exist to us, the readers.

i'm not just sharing that as egotistical self promotion, but to highlight that, even if i sit here begging you all up and down not to write characters with robot arms for how bad and unrealistic they are; there's still something genuine and true that their inclusion can say. the great thing about the story that you're writing is that only you can write it, as they say. but i whole heartedly believe that to write to your best, you have to be aware of what you're writing and why. as tempting as it is to feel these characters form naturally in us and therefore we're averse to changing traits about them that feel organic and self evident; as authors we have omnipotent control over the text, every trait and detail is a reflection on us, so we'd sure as hell better understand why we're choosing to write a character with this trait. because anything you write without being aware of intent will take on its own meaning in the space between.

and on that note, if i don't say this, i'm leaving it to be inferred: i definitely don't want to appear to come down on the side of saying "you cannot write an amputee unless you are one", because we are rarer than single young bisexual unicorns! and it would be a tragedy if anyone read through all this and then turned away in fear, deciding to never write an amputee character (with or without robot arm) because they feel they can't do it justice… believe me, no matter what anyone says, some hack writer somewhere is going to keep writing adam jensens and winter soldiers. don't let them be the only voices in fiction! just try to do your best.

so my ultimate advice on the topic of writing a character with a prosthetic limb is to ask yourself one question in two different frameworks, and meditate on what you feel the answer is:

why does she have a prosthesis?

from a doylelist perspective as the kids say, as an author with omnipotent control, why are you choosing to write about this topic? why are you choosing to give this trait to this character? what does it say about how you view ability and disability, what makes a person normal, and what our society values? will you let her be in her natural body? or will you give her a prosthesis, force her to wear it by authorial fiat, or author her a meaningful reason to choose to? if yes, be sure you know; why did you give her a prosthesis?

and from a wastonian perspective, diegetically, inside the story, why does she choose to wear a prosthesis? what does it say about her inner character, and how she interacts with the world? how does she feel about doing it, is she prideful and loves the attention she gets, or does she resent whatever necessitates its use? how do people in this world view ability and disability, what does this society value? and above all, whatever the answer to these questions, whether or not she uses a prosthesis or is badass without one, how does she deal with the eternal freezing cold that every amputee ever feels constantly in their residual limb and why does nobody make a heat pack that fits over a nub without drafty gaps???

i can't outright tell you how to write a good upper limb amputee, but if you at least know why you're writing one and for what purpose, you're on track to write the best character that you can. that's the best advice i can give… other than, like, this whole rambly mess.

and, as a reward for reading this far, please have a very blurry cryptid photo of my cat doing his old man sit:

#prosthesis #prosthetic #disability #ableism

[fourmoony]

𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝟐

f!reader x PT!Jamie (modern au) 1.5k words

summary: reader has a bad gym experience and jamie gets protective

cw: working out, mention of potential injury, mentions of sexual harrassment (ass grabbing)

sidenote, that I've seen a lot of this behaviour in the gym before and it makes me sick. writing about it and imagining how jamie would handle it makes me less sick. imagining big strong pt!james making the world better, one set of keys at a time. please, always be aware of your surroundings if you are working out at the gym, especially alone <3

James pulls you out from under the bar of the smith machine by the hips seconds before it clatters to the ground with a sickening thud and clang of metal. You stumble under his harsh hands, land on the ground at his feet and let out a pained whoosh of breath. Luckily, the gym is empty save for the two of you, sparing you the embarrassment of having people watch the commotion.

He's on you in an instant, gentle hands that cradle your neck as he crouches in front of you and pushes your head from side to side with a little pressure from his thumbs. All you can do is blink, try to process what, exactly, just happened. "You're not sore here?" James asks you, brows furrowed and almost touching in the middle, his fingers pressing into the base of your neck.

Your first thought is that James doesn't suit frowning. A silly thought, considering you almost decapitated yourself with a one hundred kilogram squat rack. "No. Just my ass from crash landing." You don't fail to notice the way your voice sounds distant, detached.

James' hands are warm on your neck, a burning touch that you want to lean into. You don't, and it's gone as James collapses down across from you, his elbows resting against his knees. His face turns stern, "What's going on?"

You feel like you're being scolded, and maybe you should be. It's a well known fact that form is everything, that being distracted in the gym can lead to serious injuries. You'd known you wouldn't be able to focus today, you'd known you should've stopped that set and corrected yourself when you could feel the weight more in your back than your legs. But, you hadn't. You're distracted, you're angry. You'd walked into the gym full of frustration and it'd almost ended terribly.

Tears fight their way to your eyes and they burn. You feel a lump forming in your throat that forces you to look away from James. Kind, patient James, who allows you the moment to collect yourself as you pull your legs to your chest. "Shitty week." It comes out mumbled, your voice defeated.

James nods understandingly. "A shitty week doesn't make you lose focus like that, though. There's something more to it."

It's not like James to push. He's friendly and he's kind, he can be a menace when he wants to be, and sometimes you even think he's flirting with you - but he never pushes. You want to open up, you want to step out of that weird area of professionalism you can never seem to get past with him. But unloading your shitty week on him doesn't feel like the way to do that. So you shrug, pulling your knees to your chest until your chin rests atop them, "I'm just stressed. I'm sorry I didn't say anything, I knew my form was wrong but I was too distracted to stop and fix it."

"I don't care that your form was wrong," James shakes his head as though offended you'd think such a thing, "I mean," He pauses, searching for the words, "Obviously, I care that it was wrong because you almost got hurt. But what I mean is that you should've told me you were stressed, that you were feeling a bit distracted."

You find yourself nodding, eyes downcast at your crossed ankles.

"I was waiting for you to correct the form yourself. If I knew you were distracted, I'd have told you to stop. I'm sorry, too." James' voice has turned soft, less stern. He nudges his foot until it's in your line of vision, tapping it against yours until you're looking up.

He's waiting with a smile, his eyes gentle and patient. It feels odd. New, foreign. You can't really describe the feeling. "A guy grabbed my ass in the gym, yesterday." You breathe out, unsure really of what it is that's made you tell him.

It could be that you trust him. It's hard not to build trust with someone in James' position, it's literally his job to stop things like one hundred kilogram bar bells falling on top of you. Or, it could be that not telling anyone, reliving how powerless you'd felt, going over everything you could've done differently, it's eating you alive. Sharing this with James, who sees every day what gyms are like, how people in some gyms behave, you have a feeling that he'll get it. That he'll help you process.

But, he doesn't say anything. Just stares with a look that you can't read. The muscles in his arms shift, his hands clenching around each other tightly, and his jaw clenches. You think he might not say anything, though, you know James is better than that. The silence stretches until the tears in your eyes abate, then James finally croaks, "He what?"

Your veins crackle with the anger in his voice, the darkness that clouds his eyes. You'd never have imagined James in such a light if he wasn't sitting right in front of you, the very picture of livid. You shrug, as though feigning nonchalance might abate the white hot anger you know very well the feeling of. "I was doing those stupid kick back thingies you're always on about. Just messing about as a cool down, trying to correct my own form. He came over and started giving me advice, which I thought was just him being nice."

James shakes his head, remorse like a white sheet of dread across his beautiful face. You swallow, picking at a hangnail on your thumb, "He kind of just," You shift your hands as though grabbing your own hips, "Grabbed me like that and my throat went dry. When he was leaving he grabbed my ass and said 'you're welcome'."

"You didn't report him to the gym staff?"

You shake your head, lip trapped between your teeth. "I wasn't even planning on telling you until I nearly killed myself with the smith machine."

James sighs, one of his hands coming up to rub at his face. He looks nauseous, almost. "I'll get you a set of keys for this gym. You can work out here, from now on. No one will bother you."

It's a nice offer. It makes your heart swell and your cheeks heat. James has always gone above and beyond. He fits you into his schedule despite your crazy work hours and never charges you for the session if you have to cancel day of. But the reason you don't have a membership at his gym is because it's not in your price range. So you smile, kind, if a little tight lipped, "James, you know I can't."

"I'm not saying get a membership. I'm saying I'll get you a set of keys. You can come and go as you please, even after work, whatever time you want." His voice is thick, his eyes earnest and almost pleading.

"I can't ask you to do that."

James scoots closer, fingers flexing as though he might reach out for you, but is stopping himself. He chases your gaze, waits until he has it, until your lips part under the weight of it and your heart hammers against your chest, to speak. "You're not asking. I'm offering. I can't believe that happened to you and it makes me so angry. I'm not going to sit by and do nothing about it."

You sigh, unwilling to argue when James sounds so passionate, so sure of himself. A smile makes its way to your lips, timid, unsure, "Thanks, Jamie."

He nods. "Any time."

"Are you sure the owner won't mind?" You ask.

James grins, some of the mischievous twinkle returning to his eyes, "He's my best mate, it'll be fine."

He offers you a hand as he stands, the storm clouds passing and the weight already lifting from your chest. It feels brighter, in the gym. You take James' hand, let him pull you up. He does his signature move of tugging you until you're stumbling towards him, his laugh echoing off of the concrete walls when you curse him out for it.

"Start from the beginning?" James asks, moving to return the smith machine to where you need it to be.

You take a breath, watch the way his shoulder muscles strain against his top as he bends and lifts. It brings a smile to your lips, the feeling of familiarity you hadn't felt upon entering the gym earlier. "I believe I was at five reps when I dropped the bar."

James tsks, "Dropping it doesn't count as a rep. Call it four."

"Cruel."

James only winks, offers you his award winning smile as you settle yourself under the bar. This time, with the correct form. He nods, and you twist to unlock, eyes on his in the mirror.

"That's one." He grins, crossing his arms over his chest.

You consider dropping the bar on his head, next.

#james potter #james potter fic #james potter imagine #james potter oneshot #james potter x reader #james potter x f!reader #james potter fluff #james potter angst #marauders #marauders era #marauders fic #marauders imagine #sirius black #remus lupin #fourmoony #angst #love #fluff #smut #pt!jamie #pt!james potter #pt!james

[tan1shere]

Baby I could slow down

Ellie Williams x female reader !

A/n: this has been sitting in my drafts for far too long and I had no idea what to do until I was talking with a friend and she helped a bit, so enjoy !!

Summary: Ellie had been your tattoo artist for a bit, you hadn't gotten many tattoos in the past and if you did it wasn't anything huge. But you decided you wanted to get a tramp stamp, til things get heated.

Warnings: smut, mdni. Mirror sex, glove fixation ??? Bit filthy 😇 soft dom Ellie DUH this is me, I'm a soft dom Ellie fanatic. And sub, but kinda confident reader-? Ok that's all 😁

Masterlist

It was becoming an addiction. One tattoo was leading to 3, 6. So on and so on. You had a few tattoos already, but you decided today was the day you got a tramp stamp, you had been wanting one for some time. Only now were you going through with it. You have been going to the same artist since your first tattoo ever. She was your favorite not only was she good at her job but she was hot. And I mean hot. Everyone who knew of her thought the same thing. But she never would look at them like you. You were thankfully a tad blinded by it. Ofcourse you felt slight tension whenever you'd go, but you'd never think much of it. Until today.

You were wearing a white shirt that was tight to your skin, thin. Alongside some black jeans. It was later in the evening and you were her last for the day, which was usually the case, you would always go in the afternoon. You step through the doors, everything was quiet and it was just Ellie there. "Knock knock." You say, soon after seeing her come into the room. "Hey you." She grins slightly. You set your things down going over to the long flat table. "So a tramp stamp huh?" You nod. "Been wanting one for awhile actually." She grabs her black gloves. And you don't know what comes over you but the way she snaps it onto her hands makes you weak in the knees. You swallow, beginning to lay on your stomach on the black leather. "Haven't been in for awhile." She states, grabbing her supplies. You look infront of you, realizing the mirror was right there.

None of the tats youd get involved laying on your stomach. Ellie comes over, taking a moment looking at your curves, the way your lower back dipped as you prompted yourself on your forearms. Her gloved hands come to your sides slowly running along them, lifting your shirt in the process. Only a tiny bit before she goes to your jeans pulling them down just a smidge as you had high rise on, to get to your lower back. "This is going to look so good on you." She compliments. You felt heat rise to your cheeks. You had been just getting yourself sorted that you hadn't noticed there was quiet music going on in the background. Ellie places the stencil on your skin, making sure it was placed good. Once that was all sorted.

She begins to start the pen up, you hear the vibrations. Getting ready for the slight pinchy sting. But in all honesty, it wasn't that painful usually. Her lingering touches on your sides felt nice, in a way almost teasing. "The butterfly suits you." You bit your lip slightly. And this woman looks up for a second, into the mirror. Noticing the action. You didn't dare look back. Everything was quiet in the room, the air filled with something flirty. It was starting to drive you insane.

Eventually there was some small talk, she'd ask about life recently and you did the same. Catching up from the last time you had come in. Her hands softly touch your skin, bringing the needle into your skin. It stung a tiny bit but by now you were use to it. "Comfortable?" She asks. You nod slightly. "Yeah it's easing up the more I come." You look up and in the mirror to see her smiling, yet still focusing on the tattoo. "Glad you come back to me so often." You bit your lip a little. "Yeah course, you're the best at what you do." Her smile turns into a slight grin. "Oh yeah?" That made your heart skip a beat, the way her voice was right now. You wanted to squirm but you knew you had to stay still. Which made Ellie want to tease you even more, knowing you could do nothing. The thought rolled around her brain driving her a little crazy. Her fingers lightly brush your side as she gets a different angle.

Things were quiet, you could feel the slight tension tho. The hand that was on your side now Moves to rest on the curve of your ass. Your eyes go wide at how casually she does the action. It was hot regardless. "Don't mind my hand love, just trying to find the right position." You swallow. "No thats- fine." She lets out a slight chuckle at how rushed that came out. "Just gotta get myself comfortable y'know?" You bit your lip, harder this time. You had to stay calm you couldn't make any movements. But it's as if she was testing you. You peer at her through the mirror infront of you, until you realized the needle had stopped for a second. She was looking right back at you. Your eyes locked for a good minute, when you let out a breath. "Nervous?" She blurts out. You're silent. You're afraid if you open your mouth you might moan. That just makes you shake your head out of that thought. You needed to be the one to focus because Jesus Christ.

"No, just-" But you had no idea how to cover that breath up. Fuck fuck fuck. Was this embarrassing or what. "Going too fast?" That confused you slightly, almost making you choke on your own spit. "With the tattoo darling." Oh. Your eyes blink a few time. "Uhm, yeah just a little.." Great save. She noticed how silent you were all of a sudden. "Baby, I could slow down if that's what you need me to do?" Your eyes meet in the mirror again. "Since this is bigger than you're use to." There was a slight smirk evident on her face. She knew exactly what she was doing. Wording things in such a way. "Uhm, it's ok just new to this, yeah- bigger than what I'm uhm. Use to." She just chuckles again, looking back down at the tattoo. But her focus was more on the way your back was arched. Her brain let it travel to all these thoughts. What it'd be like to see her fucking you from behind, especially with this tattoo. But that wasn't professional, was it Ellie? You let your eyes go away from the mirror, looking down at your hands.

Fuck it. She thought. She was almost done with it anyways. "Well. Whoever gets to be the one seeing this from behind is lucky. Very lucky." - "All done." She then says, to which you move sitting up. "Too bad no one gets to." You say. Ellie was sly, making sure you weren't involved with anyone by that statement. "Huh.. Shame." Your eyes meet yet again, but not before you turn your ass slightly to get a better look at it. You smile wide. "Oh my God I love it!" You beam. "Good good." She goes to clean up, about to take her gloves off when you stop her. "Wait- keep them on." She was a little shocked at the sudden request but did so anyway. You felt bold all of a sudden. "Maybe there's one person who could enjoy looking at it.. From behind." Her smirk grew. "Oh yeah? Who might that be?" You slowly stride closer. "Maybe the one who did it." She looks up at you from her seat, lust peeking through her green eyes.

Was she really going to go through with this. I mean this is her place, she could do what she liked. And it's not like she didn't know you at all. She was still looking at you. So were you, but your eyes traveled to her hands, her own tattoo. Good lord. She soon noticed making her smirk a bit with pride. She liked the way she affected you. She subtly moves her fingers around, she had it resting on her thigh. But since you were watching why not have a little fun. Her arm shortly flexes, making her slight veins stick out. You could feel your breathing getting heavier, you needed it. Needed her. Your eyes meet hers again, when suddenly she's reaching out. Grabbing the back of your thighs and swiftly pulling you onto her lap. Your breath got caught in your throat as you weren't expecting it. Her lips were immediately on yours. This kiss was well needed and hungry.

"Ever since you first came in here I've been wanting to do that." You bit your lip again, looking down at hers. "I think you should totally do it again." And she did instantly. Keeping her hands gently on your waist. "Get back on the table." She says slightly out of breath. "Only if you keep those gloves on." You smirk a lil, making her smirk too. "Yes ma'am." You try not to giggle like a pathetic little looser as she says that, getting back on the table. Her hand came in contact with your jeans before you do, yanking them down. You turn your head to look at her. She examines your body fully. "This will be fun." You smile more getting on the cushion table again. "Everytime I come for a tattoo I always wish we could do something.." You admit.

It boosts her ego crazily. She wastes no time taking your underwear off, gently pulling your legs so you're closer to her. "Mmmm." She let's out lowly. Your head lifts, looking at her in the mirror. "Want you to keep looking into it, want you to watch your face as I fuck you." You felt yourself clench around nothing, getting incredibly desperate for this now. You watch as she undoes her pants, getting out what you've been craving. "Matches the gloves, huh." Her voice made you wetter, and the thought made you close your eyes. She moves over your body grabbing a fistful of your hair, making you reopen your eyes. "What'd I say." Her voice was soft, laced with demand. "You bit your lip even harder. "To look in the mirror as you fuck me." She hums. "Good." You could feel the tip waiting to be slipped in. She does, shortly. Painfully slow if you might add. But once it was all in, you arch your back. Begging for more of it. "Haven't even moved yet babe." But you didn't care at all. You needed this. Now.

"Please." You breath, and it makes Ellie go crazy. She begins to move and not slowly either. In fact it was faster than you had anticipated. She was just as eager as you tho, the way your back arched, the way the tattoo looked. Your curves. She was loving this all too much. You look at her through the mirror, her eyes were looking at your body until then she met yours in the mirror. "Hear how wet you are? You had been wanting this huh?" You finally let out a moan, trying not to be too loud. "God you're so fine, glad you wanted this tat you look so hot with it. Especially in this position." It was her turn to bite her lip, watching as you moved on the strap too. It was intoxicating how this was all making you feel. "I'm so close." You blab, which made her speed up. Your eyes roll back, Ellie swears she could just cum at the sight of you in the mirror. The strap moving in a way that it gets her clit nice, making her groan and speed up again. "You look so good, shit."

Moans, grunts. Whines, were all that could be heard as you both come closer to your release. "Ellie i-" you were cut off by yet another moan. "I know, feel you clenching, mph. You're getting tighter." Your eyes never leave the mirror, and now so do hers. The latex of the gloves come in contact with your hips, sending you into overdrive as this gives her a better chance at slamming into you. You let out a cry of her name as you finally cum around her, Ellie looses it at the sight, the speed hitting her clit still making her cum along with you. All to be heard was heavy breaths. "It's free." She breathes out huskily.

#elliewilliams #ellie the last of us #ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie x reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie williams smut #ellie williams the last of us smut

[dawnoftime22]

thief.

| N.R

Warnings: None

Summary: When you go about making your meal for breakfast, it had mysteriously disappeared, leading to an obvious suspect of a redhead.

Word Count: 784

Category: fluff<3

A/N: I've missed writing fluff very very much and this was for @ncsdlr, inspired by their post of nat so here's a cute short little fic about it :]

| Started on 06/03/2024, 5:53 AM |

| Finished on 06/03/2024, 8:58 AM |

Main Masterlist | N.R Masterlist

“What's yours is mine, is it not?"

|——————————— ⴵ ———————————|

You stood in the kitchen, making a delicious sandwich for breakfast and maybe even to enjoy later after training if you don't finish.

At the moment, you were alone up until Thor walks in, going off to the pantry cabinet, assumingly looking for a poptart or cereal for his morning breakfast.

You turn from your plate of sandwich, walking to the fridge and opening it to grab some water. But when you close it and go back to take a bite of your food, it had disappeared, only a few crumbs of the bread and the sauce you put a trace of evidence of your sandwich that once existed right there.

"What the...Where did my sandwich go?" Your voice was full of confusion and shock as you blink, staring at it. Then, you look around, and notice Thor first, standing in the kitchen with you.

"Thor," you say, your expression deadpanned, and he pops his head out from behind the cabinet door, his mouth open in the way you called his name. He hadn't done anything, and even just by the tone of your voice, he knew you were accusing him of something.

Then he notices your empty plate that had a delicious looking sandwich he once saw when he walked in. You couldn't have finished it in seconds. That's when he figured out why you looked a little ticked.

"I did no such thing! I have been standing right here, and my hands are empty." He gestured with his hands, his face in utter disbelief. Your eyebrows furrow further in thought.

"Who is it then?" You raised your hands, your eyes still focused on him. He grabs a box of pop tarts out from the cabinet, opening it to slide a packet out. He looks up at you before going to the microwave, but he stops in his tracks.

"Just make...another one." He pauses in between his words as he notices a redhead passing by, holding an oddly similar sandwich to yours, chewing carelessly. He was too afraid to point it out, knowing the assassin might just kill him if he does.

But you see his eyes following something behind you rather than looking directly at you, so you slowly turn to look at who was there.

A small gasp escapes you. Natasha, stood right beside your empty plate, having come from nowhere. She was staring right at you, holding the exact sandwich you had just made minutes ago, that had disappeared.

"Thief," you exclaim, walking closer to the kitchen island where she's at and putting your hand on it, holding yourself against it. She swallows before speaking up.

"It's not stealing if you left it there," she shrugs, the sandwich moving along with her hand, and you had to process her words for a moment until you let out a small laugh.

"That's the same thing." You tilt your head slightly as you said it, her sentence making no sense. If it was anyone else, you might have already chased them around the room already to retrieve your sandwich.

"Why didn't you just make one yourself?" Thor had left the kitchen by now, enjoying his pop tart by himself while you and Nat continued your playful conversation.

"It's not the same," she says, and at that, you shake your head. Her face was calm, but her eyes held a hint of teasing.

"Well, then, you could have just asked," you mumble. Nat stays quiet, studying your face. She could have just asked, but she also loved poking at you for fun.

"Now I need to make another one." You complained as you pick up your plate, about to go grab the loaf of bread once again while your stomach complained at the late breakfast.

"You can have it back." She holds out the sandwich to you, even though it was clear she had already eaten more than you thought she had.

"No, you've already had a bite of it, keep it." Or more so, multiple bites. You wave your free hand that wasn't holding the plate dismissively, not minding since it was well...Nat, but you were a tinge upset.

She sees the adorable pout your face held, and a small smile tugs at the corners of her lips.

"I'll make one for you, how's that?" Nat stands up from the barstool standing tall for the kitchen island, moving to the counters to grab the ingredients. When she turns her head to look over her shoulder, she takes your smile as an acceptance.

Later on, the two of you enjoyed your sandwiches that you had, one being 'accidentally' made for the other, and one being especially made for the other.

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

taglist <3 - join here! :]

@ludasgf @lovelyy-moonlight @red1culous @justanotherteenpoet @fxckmiup @dmenby3100 @animealways @natashasilverfox @wandsmxmff @tia-thesimp @marvelwomen-simp

#🥀 dawn’s collection #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff x reader #soft natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff comfort #natasha romanoff imagines

[strawberryvanillafrosting]

limiting believes i got rid of AND YOU SHOULD DO TOO in order to manifest instantly

-> time 

before i thought and probably your case too AND I HOPE THAT IT’S NOT ANYMORE  that time had anything to do with the loa, manifesting and stuff. that the fakest shit i’ve ever head. literally all is based off your mind and your assumptions.who tf decided that manifesting a house should take months? when time doesn’t even exist. LIKE TELL ME WHERE TF IS THE LOGIC?  like just sit there and think about it, time was human-made and the law is just the law, so why would you make the time a law? like why tf would you even just consider time ?j just think about an answer.the law isn’t logical itself so why would you even try to make it logical by putting it together with something thats considered logical? just ask yourself. why tf would my penthouse in new york would take months to get to me? whats the answer to that now?

FORGET ABOUT TIME, about deadlines or whatever stop counting days like you were in fucking jail. the only jail you’re in is you’re mind.

 -> worth and  « bigger » or « smaller » manifestations 

nothing has value, you’re the one creating value and putting things on a pedestal. do you know what’s worth more between a 1$ and a 100$ ? if you say the 100$ you really understood nothing did you? it’s as easy to have the 100$ than the 1$ as it’s the same thing to manifest a big fat miami house or a small condo in tokyo and if you think otherwise you haven’t totally let go of those limitings believes yet. why do you think money has so much value? it really is a piece of paper with a print. would you give a piece of paper with a drawing of an old man any value? no. THEN STOP GIVING VALUE TO MONEY OR ANYTHING IN LIFE.you think you could attract a person you don’t care about but not your crush or you desired friends? when those persons are worth the same and as easy to get as the other? the second you consider that everything you want is absolutely worthless and as easy to get as the oxygen you’re breathing right now, you’ll manifest.

the second you’ll pull out this bullshit that we instill in your brain of «  value, worth, bigger things, harder to get, longer to get » you’ll instantly get it. THE SECOND YOU’LL KNOW THESE WORTHLESS THINGS ARE ALREADY YOURS, YOU MANIFESTD IT!

MAINLY STOP PUTTING YOURSELF LIMITS!!!!! you control everything what’s stopping you from getting that penthouse you want so bad?? money? money is worthless and you can get it the amount of money you want so now what do you need more? go get you keys and enjoy it cause you literally already fucking have it. YOU’RE DIVINE how can you manage not to have a  simple piece of paper that has the number «  100 » on it? how can you not get a place made with of wood and rocks and itself filled with more things that are made with wood and rocks ? how do you manage not get the love of a simple girl or boy? THE ANSWER IS YOU DON'T MANAGE NOT TO HAVE IT CAUSE YOU ALREADY DO.

PUT IN YOUR HEAD YOU ALREADY HAVE IT ALL. NOTHING ELSE EXISTS, NOT WORTH, VALUE, TIME, ALL THIS THINGS DOES NOT EXIST SO PLEASE PLEASE GET THOSE BULLSHIT LIMITING ASS HUMAN MADE CONCEPT OUT OF YOUR GENIUS BRAIN AND INSTANTLY GET ALL YOU WANT WITHOUT RESTRICTIONS WHATSOEVER

->3D delay

don’t put in your head that there will be a delay forget about that.focus on the fact that it gets instantly to you and that’s it. do not care about anything else. « oh i don’t have my results yet it'S probably 3D delay😞 » no. you already have it wtf is even a delay? the moment you decided to have it in your 4D you instantly got in your 3D period.

-> self victimising

STOP THIS. stop all the «  it’s not manifesting why?? why everyone but me 🥺» please. you’re worth more than that. persist no matter what.stop slowing down your living in the end process. if you wanna feel sad about a situation, be sad, but don’t even start self-victimising. don’t eat up your feelings it leads to nothing good but always remind yourself that you have the knowledge that ppl out there don’t have access to. people dying or being in the worst situation ever dont even have any way to get out of it cause they don’t know but YOU? YOU KNOW THE TRUTH. YOU KNOW THE LAW. YOU KNOW YOUR LIMITLESS POWER. YOU CAN HAVE YOUR DREAM LIFE SO WHY SELF VICTIMISE? YOU AREADY GOT IT ALLL GIRLLL

btw that’s my first blog i hope it was inspiring🥰 and i dont tell you may all your manifestations come true cause they’re obviously already all true 

#manifesting #law of assumption #neville goddard #self concept #limiting beliefs #manifesation #dream life #affirm and persist #loa success #master manifestor #loassumption

[spideyhexx]

coryo with a obsessive reader who matches his energy but more subtly, leading him to believe he has all the power when in reality she’s playing him the same way

IVE THOUGHT ABOUT THIS AND I LOVE IT!

I do like thinking about this with the whole arranged marriage prospect because like, im imagining your family is very high up in the capitol and while coriolanus would be considered below you, you’re smart enough to recognize his influence and drive for power that you decide he’d be the perfect person to marry.

Cause if you don’t marry him, wouldn’t he just be competition?

So you set little seeds, make sure he's aware of your status and aware that you're a challenge to him, not a person to be messed with or fall onto your knees for him with ease.

And through this process, you do become obsessed with him. You love the way he takes what he wants the same way you do. But at the same time, you're not gonna let him easily have you.

I think he would eventually try to charm his way into your life long after you've already set your eyes on him. You let him think he's got the upper-hand, falling for his swooning confidence (for real or fake, you're not sure). I think your feelings would start to betray you as you do genuinely fall for him, but you're also able to set them aside for the time being. Power is number one to Coryo, but it is for you too. All you focus on is making sure Coryo falls for you enough to propose. And you do this by just simply being yourself. You don't hide the fact that you're strong, opinionated and have more power than a lot of your fellow classmates, but you don't brag. You make sure to tease Coryo, catching on to the fact that playful banter is the only thing that gets him red in the cheeks.

Then there’s also times you see other girls flirt with him and you feel so jealous, you need to leave before you make yourself obvious.

And I honestly think he'd fall right into the trap. Coriolanus would be aware you're more intelligent than some of the other girls in the capitol that he can pursue and he likes that. He likes the way you challenge his thoughts in class. Coryo has witnessed you using your power over others and it's sick and vile, but that's what he decides he wants.

He wants to be able to tell the world he was the one who gets you all to himself and have some sort of power over you.

Maybe a relationship with him progresses to the point you take him to meet your parents and your father says something about finally bringing the Snow boy to the penthouse after all this time talking about wanting him for yourself.

Coriolanus feels it click a little in his head that you've been planning this precise moment for longer than he's been pursuing you. He knows he should feel mad or rather weak at the fact you've done this, but he doesn't.

Coryo is enamored. so much that he asks your father that very night for permission to propose.

let's chat about coryo, here :)

#coryoasks #coriolanus snow #tom blyth #tom blyth fanfiction #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus snow smut #coryo snow #tom blyth x reader #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus imagine #coryo x reader #coriolanus snow drabble #coriolanus smut

[cryptidghostgirl]

Are your requests still open? I was hoping for a request for a Lucifer x sinner reader where she was once in love with someone when she was alive but they betrayed her leading to her death causing her to be afraid of letting others in. She's been a resident of the hotel since the pilot, but doesn't really talk much about her feelings or past life but is convinced by Charlie who says singing helps her when she needs to get out her own emotions. So when she thinks everyone is gone for the day on one of Charlie's bonding field trips, she uses the piano in the main area to sing her heart out, not realizing Lucifer decided to stay. The song I'm thinking of is "Perfect Doesn't Last" by Beth Crowley. So when she sings it and he overhears listening and watching her he's reminded of Lilith and feels for the reader understanding her more than when they first met during his first visit to the hotel (ep 5). I'm not sure of how to end it, so if you want to add anything to it I'm totally up for it. I just thought this song would match him so well.

A/N this is my first time writing for this man. Also,, i think it’s so funny that everyone is just like “short king” even tho alastor is canonically at least seven feet tall and charlie is at least like six feet tall. that’s so silly of us.

Encore (Lucifer x Reader)

Paring: Lucifer x Reader

Warnings: Domestic abuse briefly mentioned.

Word Count: 2,169

Master Lists:

Master Lists 

Hazbin Hotel Master List

Lucifer had just wanted to visit Charlie. With their relationship on the up and up, he was eager to not give up his chance to fix things with his favorite and only daughter. However, when he arrived at the hotel, throwing the doors open in unadulterated excitement, it was to find the normally busy lobby area empty.

The door fell shut behind him and his smile slipped from his face. Carefully, he ran his eyes over every inch of the room. There really was no one to be found.

"Maybe they're just all in their rooms, yeah." he said aloud to himself, "Charlie is probably... in her office! It must take a lot of work to run a place like this. Yeah, that's what it is."

Charlie, Vaggie, and Alastor had asked her to come with them to the movies. It was supposed to be a reward, for how hard they had all been working. They had really tried their best to convince Y/n to join them but, as always was the case when activities that took them out of the hotel were not required, Y/n had declined the offer.

Y/n was still getting used to Hell in all its big scary wonder, she still hurt. Everything was so complicated and while spending time with her thoughts didn't make her feel good per-say, spending time with others had been making her feel even worse. Besides, Charlie had given her some advice a few days ago she wanted to test out and she didn't exactly feel comfortable doing that while the hotel was crawling with people.

Y/n trusted Charlie. She was the first person to have extended a kind hand in her direction since her arrival in Hell. When Charlie had found out Y/n had been a concert pianist in the living world, she was elated.

"That's perfect!" she had said, leaning across the desk towards her, "We have a piano in the Hotel's auditorium!"

"I... I don't know if I really can... perform, right now. If that's alright." Y/n had replied, wringing her hands and unable to keep eyecontact.

"What? Oh no! That's not what I meant at all. It just seems... well if you did it for a living, you must have loved it. And it seems like you always have a lot on your mind, lots of stuff to process, and I know you don't like talking to people about it and, well, music always makes me feel better. It feels freeing, like I'm getting everything bottled up inside me out when I sing."

"I... I don't think I've ever really thought about it that way." she had admitted in response, "It was just something I had always done. I started lessons when I was three."

"Well, you should try it some time." Charlie had smiled back, "Maybe it will help."

Once she was sure everyone was gone and the hotel was hers alone, Y/n had slipped quietly from the confinement of her room. It had taken her a bit to find the auditorium. When she finally did and saw the piano it held, her breath caught in her throat.

It was a beautiful old baby grand made out of a warm cherry wood that matched the hotel's theming well. The lid had creaked when she had opened it, the keys had been dusty to the touch.

It had been a long time since she'd played. With mild joy, she let her fingers run the usual scales and arpeggios, finding a comfort in the familiarity of it all. Once satisfied her fingers were all warmed up and ready to play something real, she posed them over the keys.

Lucifer had lost himself in the depths of the labyrinthine hotel. The twists and turns of the hallways were unfamiliar to him despite the tour Charlie, Vaggie, and Alastor had lead him on. His hope at finding his daughter and spending some time with her had long since flickered out. He was on the verge of going home, his hand half raised to open a portal, when he heard it.

A faint echo of music flooded the hallway and Lucifer froze. It was haunting and distant, it drew him in. His sights set on a new sort of entertainment for the afternoon, he listened carefully and began to follow the sound.

As he got closer to its source, Lucifer realized that who ever was making the music was not just playing the piano but singing. Their voice was soft and lovely, nearly ethereal in its sheer humanity and anguish.

I would have bet on us

We were untouchable, you and I

I couldn't get enough

It was a fairytale come to life

Lucifer at last reached the half open door to the room the music appeared to be coming from. Not wanting to disturb the artist just yet, he transformed into a snake and slithered his way silently into the room. There, sitting at the piano on the stage, was Y/n.

I had your heart

At least that's what I thought

Now I'm second guessing every moment

Wondering where we went so wrong

He didn't really know much about Y/n except that she was new to Hell. Charlie had mentioned off hand that she had died in an incident of domestic abuse. Lucifer had no idea why she had ended up in Hell or what she was really like. When he had visited the hotel the first time, Y/n had been quiet and reserved. She had stood to the side and watched, barley even introducing herself to him.

At first, he had thought it to be disrespect. Not every demon in Hell was his biggest fan after all and while he was used to it, it still stung that even one of his daughters would be reformed sinners would be blatantly rude to him. He had quickly realized however from her flittering eyes and the way she clutched at herself that it wasn't disrespect at all. Y/n had been nervous.

Of course, Lucifer had made an attempt to make her feel more comfortable but, when he had extended his metaphorical hand, Y/n had just closed herself off even further. According to Charlie and Angel Dust, that was just what the demoness was like. She was shy.

You got inside my head

Taking up every inch of space

'Til there was no room left

Her hands flew across the keys with a practiced grace. Lucifer felt she knew he was there, watching. He felt that she just might be performing for him.

So many parts of me erased

You had my heart

And tossed it in the dirt

As he listened to the words she sung, they resonated with him. For a split second, he could have sworn it was Lilith sitting there at the piano, not Y/n. He shut his eyes, shaking his head slightly. He was oddly grateful when he opened them again to find it had just been his imagination.

Now that was a first. Since Lilith had disappeared seven years ago, Lucifer had been a mess. Lucifer was always a mess but, Lilith leaving like that really did him in. She had been his rock, his guiding light, his everything. He had risked everything for her and he had lost. At least, back in the old days, he had gained something out of the chaos. A daughter, a wife, a world to try and shape. One after another, they were all taken from him. Even now, even with their relationship improving the way it was, he felt Charlie slipping away again.

Now I'm second guessing every moment

Wondering where we went so wrong

I just keep asking

Would this have been worth it if I knew the ending all along.

Without really thinking about it, Lucifer retook his normal form and sat down in one of the auditorium's front row seats. Thankfully, Y/n was too wrapped up in her own world to notice and she just continued to play.

What started so perfect was over too fast

I should have seen the warning signs

'Cause perfect doesn't last

Perfect doesn't last

Light shined off her face, that was how Lucifer had realized she was crying. Despite the tears, her voice never wavered. A performer at her core, just like him.

I would have bet on us

We were untouchable, you and I

As the last lingering notes echoed through the room, he began to clap. Y/n jumped at the noise, turning to face him with wide eyes and cheeks flushed red with embarrassment. Lucifer was undeterred and, getting to his feet, gave her a standing ovation. After a few moments, he ceased in his applause.

"That was beautiful." he said, breaking the new silence that had fallen between them.

"Um, I'm sorry." Y/n's gaze fell back to the piano.

"No! No no no!" Lucifer exclaimed, jumping up onto the stage.

He kneeled before her, lifting her hands from her lap and taking them in his own. She turned to him, surprise drawing out the features of her face once again.

"Don't apologize for taking up space."

"I... I just didn't mean to disturb you is all. If you're looking for Charlie, she's out at the movies with everyone else."

"I was but, I can talk to her later, when she gets back. You didn't disturb me at all, Y/n. As I said, it was beautiful. It was..."

He trailed off, the smile slipping from his face.

"Oh fuck!" Y/n exclaimed, "I didn't mean to upset you! I'm really sorry, what can I do to make it better?"

"You didn't upset me." Lucifer shook his head, "You just... somehow managed to put words to the very things I've been struggling with the past couple years."

A smaller, much kinder and more genuine smile made its way onto his face.

"If you'd like to play more, I'd love to hear it."

Y/n's cheeks flushed red again.

"Theres no pressure." Lucifer shrugged, "Just giving you the option."

"An audience of one... well, it's a little intimidating." she admitted bashfully, "I'm used to the faceless mob of the crowd."

"I can see why. You have an undeniable gift."

"I guess... I don't know. Charlie just said it might help me process stuff. To play again, I mean."

"Was she right?"

Y/n paused in thought for a moment before nodding slowly.

"I think she might have been. My chest does feel a little lighter now."

"Then play."

"Um, mister... king of Hell? Sir?"

Lucifer laughed.

"You can just call me by my name. No formalities necessary. 'Mister king of Hell sir' was my fathers name."

Y/n laughed lightly at his terrible joke. The sound sparked a sudden joy in Lucifer's chest, one he hadn't felt in quite a long time.

"Well, Lucifer." she began again, stumbling a bit over his name.

"Yes?"

"I'll... um, I'll need my hands back. If I'm to keep playing."

"Wh..."

He looked down and his eyes widened. Lucifer hadn't realized he had still held her hands in his. Immediately he dropped them, getting to his feet and looking away in mild embarrassment.

"Sorry, about that."

"Don't apologize for existing." Y/n parroted his earlier words.

When he turned back to her, it was to find she was smiling slightly.

"How bad would it be if I said sorry again right now?"

"You'd be sounding like me."

"Lets make a deal then: no sorries unless something is actually wrong."

"What if I can't tell if your mad at me or not?"

Lucifer looked down at the seated demon. In not one of his wildest dreams could he ever imagine being mad at her but, that wasn't exactly something he could say.

"Then you can always ask."

"And you promise you wont lie to me?"

"I promise."

"Promise promise?"

"Yes!"

She eyed him suspiciously for a moment before nodding her head. Turning back to the piano, her hands found their place on the keys once again. She hesitated.

"I..." Y/n shot Lucifer a look over her shoulder, "Thank you."

"Thank you. There is some solace in knowing someone else out there feels the same way I do, if for different reasons."

"Yeah. There is, isn't there? Maybe part of our deal can be helping each other figure that all out too."

The suggestion had been half thought out. Y/n hadn't really meant to give it a voice, it had escaped her locked lips. She quickly turned back to the piano.

"Sorry. That was dumb."

"What did we just say about sorries!" Lucifer exclaimed, "No apologizing for existing. I think that suggestion sounds rather nice."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Okay. I... I'm actually going to play now. Is that okay?"

With a snap of his fingers, Lucifer reappeared in the seat he had previously inhabited. He crossed his legs, resting his hands on his knee.

"Whenever your ready."

----

Song is Perfect Doesn't Last by Beth Crowley as requested :)

#x reader #hazbin hotel #x reader fics #x reader one shot #x reader writer #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin #hazbin lucifer #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer x reader #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer x you #lucifer morningstar x you #hazbin hotel lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #requested #request #requests #x reader fanfiction #x reader fanfic #x you #x reader oneshot #request one shot #one shot #oneshot

[lovers-rck]

you want to get better at kissing, so you ask your friend ellie to give you some tips

fluff ? i guess. modern au

☆

"how do you kiss someone?"

ellie looks at you "what?"

"do you have some tricks?" you asks

the past few months had been rough, the cold winter burned the cheeks of everyone, red noses and big scarfs were the last fashion tendency in campus. for the last few days you were drown in warm and cozy clothes, swimming through hot chocolate and watching christmas movies.

today wasn't the exception. after your last class of the day, you went to ellie's dorm and you both watched a movie in her laptop, ellie handing you her cup of hot chocolate every once in a while.

"what? no" she replies

"then how do you do it?"

"why are you asking me that? you kissed people before"

you roll your eyes "yeah, when i was like twelve years old" you make a disgusted face at remember that "he licked all my face"

ellie laughs

"i dont know. i kiss like everyone else"

"all the girls in my class talk about how you kiss them"

ellie furrows her eyebrows "i kissed one of your classmates?"

you roll your eyes "it would be easier to answer who you didn't kiss ellie"

"what is that supposed to mean?"

"i don't know" you shrug "do you have some tips for me?"

"avoid the excess of tongue"

"ellie!"

"okay sorry!" she says, thinking "i don't know. im not an expert"

"you kissed a lot of girls"

"so?"

"that means that you know something i don't!"

"how to flirt maybe"

you throw a pillow in her face, your cheeks getting red in anger "forget it"

you place your eyes in the movie again, seeing scenes and hearing dialogues but not really paying attention. you were swimming in a pool were the water was made of thoughts and questions.

"i can show you" you heard ellie say after a couple of minutes.

you swim to the top of the pool, getting out. "what?" you replie

she shrugs, her eyes still on the movie "only if you want"

you watch the laptop again, trying to process ellie's words.

"wouldn't that be weird?" you asks

"it doesn't have to be" she says and in her stomach a bunch of butterflys fight eachothers "it's for educational purposes"

you laugh softly, your fingers playing with the seam of your sweather "okay"

ellie finally looks at you "yeah?"

you nod, a funny smile resting in your face "okay" she says and moves the laptop away, making space as she taps her lap "here"

your eyes go wide "what?"

"what? i thought you wanted me to show you"

"yeah" you say "i just didn't know i have to sit in you"

"oh" she says, her cheeks getting red "you don't have to. sorry"

you nod slowly. an awkward silence sits between both of you.

after a few seconds, you start to move towards her. she offers her hand and you take it. your knees swim in the sea of blankets as you follow the path to her body.

your mind is fuzzy when you sit in her legs, her hands resting in your hip "okay" you sigh

"you okay?" she asks, looking in your eyes some answer

"yeah" you nod "you are warm"

ellie laughs and her vibrations resonate in her body, making your body shift slightly. you hold back a whimper with the faint suspicion that you shouldn't feel that way.

"im gonna kiss you now" she announces, you nod "just follow my lead"

"follow your lead" you repeat, your hands in her shoulders "got it"

ellie grabs your face with a soft grip, moving it gently to her lips.

you take a deep breath when for the first time ever she places her lips over yours. she leaves them there for a couple of seconds, warming your own before continuing. you feel her other hand caressing your waist over your tick hoddie.

ellie's kiss is soft and sweet, her lips moving against yours with such tenderness. you try to follow her, frustrated with your own inexperience "relax" she murmurs "no one is rushing us"

you try to relax. you direct your hands towards her neck, unconsciously caressing her skin with your thumb and gaining a few shivers on her part. you laugh softly, breaking the kiss as ellie laughs too "you got me there" she says, her breath hitting your lips "you want to keep going?"

you smile against her lips as you realize that you both were talking in whispers, like children sharing a secret "yes" you whisper, and this time you start the kiss.

you feel more confident now, opening your mouth a bit. ellie takes that as an invitation and turns the kiss in something deeper, moving her hand to your jaw.

you shiver as you kiss her back the same way, this time more hungry, less delicate. ellie handles your face the way she wants, moving it to the side to deepen her assault on your mouth.

you feel your breath getting louder as the seconds pass, her grip getting stronger in your body. you shift in her lap, your chest against hers , chasing that proximity and more.

the moment ellie slips her tongue in your mouth you moan softly, breaking the kiss "sorry" you murmur, completely embarrassed

"too much?" she asks, placing a strand of hair behind your ear.

you shake your head "i just didn't expect it" you replie "what should i do if someone wants tongue?"

ellie ignores the needle of jealousy that pinch her at thinking about someone else kissing you "it's up to you. if you like kissing with tongue and the other person too then go ahead"

"i don't know if i like it" you make a face "it's kinda weird"

on impulse, ellie replies "do you want to keep trying?" you look at her "to see if you like it, i mean" she adds, awkward.

you hide a smile and nod, feeling ellies mouth the very next second, wasting no time.

this time she does the tongue thing again and you decided that you like it. it's all wet and warm, and a bit weird at first, but ellie plays with your mouth in a way that makes you melt.

her hands navegate over the waist of your hoddie, trying to move you closer to her. you hug her by the neck, your fingers ghosting over her hair.

in the kiss, a weird feeling invades you. you feel weird, weird of kisssing your friend like this, of being sitting in her legs, of liking it. ellie grabs you and touch your face and kiss you and when she touch the exposed skin of your hip you realize that this wasn't a practice anymore.

"ellie" your murmur with agitated breath

and she understands, leaving your lips "sorry" her lips are red and swollen

you make an awkward smile and get off her lap, instantly missing her warm essence. you see how ellie plays with her fingers, nervous

you watch the laptop, the movie still on. outside is snowing. you feel warmth in places that you shouldn't.

"how did i do it?" you ask playfully, trying to lighten the atmosphere

ellie catch your intention and shrug her shoulders, making a funny face "i had better"

you laugh and push his shoulder lightly, pulling the blankets off her bed "i say the same thing"

"yeah, i bet that boy from when you were twelve kissed you better" she jokes and you throw a pillow to her face one more time.

#ellie williams x reader #ellie wiliams #the last of us #ellie williams fanfic #ellie x fem reader #ellie the last of us #tlou #tlou2

[cowgurrrl]

Something in the Orange

Pairing: Joel Miller x art teacher!reader

Author's note: this might become a mini series idk idk

Summary: A parent-teacher conference leads to trouble [4.0k]

Warnings: no outbreak! au, teacher things, Ellie being a little loner, Joel the Menace making a return, Joel gets both his daughters in this one because it's what he deserves, flirty flirt, i think that's it???

You feel like you've been running a million miles a minute since you got in this morning. The second you could unlock the door, at least three students spilled into your room and chaotically ran to the kiln to collect their most recent pottery projects. One of them ended up shattering (the exact one you warned Colin about, but he didn't listen), and, as per high school custom, they were all screaming about it. You consoled the students just in time for your principal to walk by and ask about lesson plans which made you scramble through your backpack for your notebook even though you knew damn well there wasn't a single lesson plan in there. "Do you always have those lights on?" Principal Martinez asked, gesturing to the room's fairy lights and orange lamps. Leave it to administration to want to avoid art classrooms so much that they don't even know about the Big Light Philosophy. 

Since then, it's been class after class. You only have one more period before your planning period and then, finally, the end of the day. There are a hundred things to do, but you can't focus on any of them. You got so caught up in managing your classroom and helping students with the hardest parts of their portfolio work that you almost forgot you had a parent meeting scheduled during your planning period. 

Calling in parents for meetings about their children may be your least favorite part of your job. It makes you feel like a bad teacher, and parents usually don't feel great about getting called in on a workday to talk about their kid. Luckily, Ellie's dad, Joel, seemed more than happy to take time to talk about her. You rack your mind for his occupation as you add some detail to a canvas you've been hiding in your office and working on when you can. Was he a blue-collar worker? Or was he another stuck-up Austin transplant parent who's gonna accuse you of lying? He'd make the fifth parent who's made you cry this semester.

A knock on your locked door pulls you from your thoughts, and you quickly put away your painting before answering the door. "I told you she was in here!" One of your students, Dina, announces as she and a posse of three other kids you don't recognize push their way into the room. "Miss, you've gotta take that thing off your door; otherwise, people are gonna think you went home!"

"You mean the sign that says, 'planning period. Do not enter?'" You ask, and she snaps her fingers.

"That's the one." She says as she and her friends start putting their backpacks down at one of your high tables. You sigh and kick the door stopper into the threshold.

"You guys can't stay here. I have a meeting in five minutes."

"With who?"

"None of your business." 

"Miss!" Dina acts wounded, and you cross your arms over your chest, your keys jingling around your neck in the process.

"I am an adult with a college degree and the debt to show for it. You are a teenager with a still-developing brain. You have to listen to me," you say. "Wait, whose class are you supposed to be in right now?"

"Mr. Flynn's."

"Guys!" You groan before walking over to your desk and quickly writing up a hall pass for them. "I know you don't like math-"

"No, we don't like Mr. Flynn." Dina cuts you off.

"Or math!" One of her friends adds, and you shoot them a (loving) disapproving look. 

"Whatever you don't like, you can't keep hiding out here. Mr. Flynn is two seconds away from trying to get me fired for how often I let his kids in here during class, and I actually like this job, so," you rip the hall pass off the pad and hand it to Dina. As they pack their stuff up, a tall, bearded man steps into your classroom and makes eye contact with you. "Out, out, out! I love you. You're gonna change the world one day, but please get out." You blow them kisses as you usher them out of the room. 

"Are you Ellie's art teacher?" He asks, a confused look on his face, and you nod.

"Yes, I am. Sorry about that. They're still figuring out that I have work to get done even when I don't have a class," you explain, a little breathless from running all over the place and getting caught off-guard. You really do try to act a little more professional with parents, but the kids threw you off. The kettle whistling behind your desk doesn't make it any better. "Is there anything I can get you? Coffee? Tea?" You pick up a random mug off your desk but find it full of murky water. "Paint water?"

"Are you allowed to have an electric kettle in here?" He asks, and you laugh nervously as you find a clean mug and your tea box. 

"I won't tell if you won't." You say. He stands there awkwardly as you pour yourself some tea, and you realize you didn't pull a chair up for him. "Um, we can sit..." you glance around your messy classroom until you find a clear table and gesture toward it. "Here." He follows your lead, and you take a deep breath as you sit down.

"You gonna be okay?" He asks, the hint of a smirk on his lips. His curly hair looks golden brown in the low light, and his round eyes have a little knowing twinkle. You take another breath to compose yourself and nod. 

"Yes. Sorry. It's been a long day." 

"Don't worry bout it. I'm sure they run you ragged."

"Is it that obvious?"

"Well, you do have paint in your hair." He says, and panic seizes in your chest. You're never more aware of how crazy your job can be until you meet Real Adults. Even if you can't remember what he does for a living, you still have to admit that you look a little silly next to each other: you, with your paint-stained sunflower dress and markered hands, and him, with his black shirt and jeans. He doesn't have any apparent stains or splatters on his clothes, but he's broad with thick biceps. He must work with his hands or something within that capacity. You clear your throat and try to get back on track with the meeting.

"Uh, so Mr. Miller, the reason I called you here today was to talk to you about Ellie," you start. "First, I just wanna say that she is an amazing student. She always does her work and engages thoughtfully with the material. I really do enjoy having her in class." 

"Well, that's certainly good to hear. She talks a whole lot bout this class and you, so... it's nice to place a face to the name," he says, adjusting his position on the stool. "But I have a feelin' you didn't call me down here just to tell me how great my kid is." 

"She is great. She's extremely talented, smart, and funny, but she spends more time in my classroom during lunch than anything else. I'm worried about her making friends and finding a community here at school. I've tried convincing her to join the art club, but she's hesitant. During class, she just sits with her headphones in and draws. She really doesn't like talking to anybody but me." You wait for blame to be assigned to you or get lectured, but it never comes. He just sighs, and he deflates a little in his chair.

"She's been through a lot this year. Well, her whole life, really, but 'specially recently," he says dejectedly. "What can I do for her?"

"There's an art show this Friday night here at the school. It'll all be student work from across the district. I thought if maybe you or... whatever adults she has at home came with her to this, she might feel more comfortable talking to her peers or even want to submit some of her own stuff."

"We can do that. I'll get off work early and ask her uncle if he wants to come," he's quick with his solution, and you're a little shocked. You rarely get parents, let alone fathers, who act this swiftly when something is going on with their kids. "Is there anythin' else goin' on that I should know bout?" 

"Uh, no. Like I said, she's a great kid. You should be really proud." You say, and the concerned wrinkle between his eyebrows disappears with a proud smile. 

"Thank you," he mumbles, suddenly shy. "And thanks for carin' so much bout her. It's nice to know she's got someone lookin' out for her here." You don't know what to say, so you just nod and stare at him. You know, like an idiot. It takes a chuckle from him to snap you out of your thoughts, and blood rushes to your cheeks.

"Yes, of course. She's a good kid." You say. 

"You said that already." 

"I bet you'd be a little scatterbrained if you were at the mercy of two hundred teenagers all day."

"You're absolutely right. I would be," he says, smirking devastatingly. "Someone ought to get you a coffee or somethin' if you're dealing with all that." 

"People like you should go argue with the school board. I'm sure you'd be popular with all the teachers." 

"That'd be a first. I think I might've been the least favorite parent for all of my girls' teachers." 

"Well, I find that hard to believe." 

"Yeah?" He asks, leaning forward just a little, and you nod, smiling. Your brain struggles to come up with something to say, and you're a little embarrassed at your silence, but luckily, your projector saves the day by buzzing loudly and making the picture on the board cut in and out. You mumble a quick apology before getting up and climbing up on a desk to jiggle a piece back into place. You hear Joel curse behind you, and when you turn to see what the problem is, you see him holding his arms out behind you. "Do you stand on desks often?" 

"Only every day. I haven't fallen yet this year." You laugh at his exasperated expression and turn back to the projector. It's still making a weird noise, so you move it around a little more, moving the desk under your feet, and Joel stabilizes it with a sigh. 

"How long has it been doin' that?" 

"Couple months. I keep putting in maintenance requests, but nobody ever comes to fix it."

"I can fix it for ya," he says simply, and you look down at him. "I've got tools in my truck. It wouldn't take long at all."

"Really?" You ask, and he nods. 

"It'd make me feel better knowin' you're not almost breakin' your neck every day."

"You mean, standing on a decades-old desk to mess with an ancient piece of equipment isn't OSHA compliant?"

"Please," he says, grabbing your ankle when the desk wobbles under you, and you laugh at his worry. "Let me fix it for you before you give me a heart attack." You think about declining and just putting in another work order, but the likelihood that anyone would actually come and fix it is slim to none. Plus, you really shouldn't be climbing on top of desks every day. You pretend to think it over for a few more seconds just to watch the worry play across his features as his grip on your ankle gets tighter.

"Only if you really mean it." 

"I really mean it," he says, offering you his other hand. "Now, would you please get down?"

"Fine." You say and take his hand. You bend to safely get yourself down, but Joel moves his other hand from your ankle to your waist and basically hoists you to the ground. Once your feet touch the floor, he doesn't let you go immediately like he's trying to figure out if you somehow got hurt when he wasn't looking. There's a part of your brain that's aware of how inappropriate this would look to any passersby, but you're also highly aware of how warm his big hand is on your hip. 

"Ya alright?" He asks softly, and you nod, taking a conscious step back from his arms.

"Yes, thank you."

"Good," he says, also taking a step back. "Let me go get my tools, and I'll get that fixed for you." 

"Perfect. I'll be here." You stand there, staring at each other awkwardly, for another moment before he turns on his heels and walks out of the classroom. The second he's out of your line of sight, you bury your head in your hands and start silently freaking out. 

What the fuck are you doing? How did a parent-teacher meeting turn into him hauling you off a desk and offering to fix your projector? Technically, nothing incriminating has happened, and it needs to stay that way. It doesn't matter if you think he's attractive or like how he worries about everything. He's Ellie's dad. Teachers have gotten fired for much less than this, and you're not willing to risk your career because of one guy. 

When he gets back with his toolbox, you're sitting at your desk and sorting through assignments like a reasonable adult. He doesn't say anything as he climbs up on the same desk you were standing on and begins messing with the mechanics of the equipment. You each work in silence for a few minutes before a screw clatters to the ground, and he grumbles something under his breath. "Do you mind..." he starts, pointing toward the lost piece. 

"Not at all." You cover your anxiety with your chipper teacher voice and search for the screw with your phone flashlight. You find it tucked between canvases, carefully pick it up, and walk over to where he's standing, waiting for him to be ready for it.

"It looks like it's just an old piece in here. I'm sure you can order a new one, and I can come back and install it if ya want," he explains, looking down at you. You probably look stupid just standing there with a tiny screw in your hand, but he doesn't laugh. "D'you mind handing me that tool to your right?" He asks, and you blindly reach for the tool you think he's talking about. "Your other right." He corrects, and you flush in embarrassment. 

"Sorry. I never was a very good woodshop student." You say, and he laughs once he has the tool in hand. 

"My girls are the same way. Just askin' ‘em to hold a flashlight while I work on their car is like pullin' teeth," he says fondly. "Speaking of which, is there a reason the lights aren't on in here?"

"The lamp light is less harsh, and it helps students focus. Plus, nobody likes coming into a bright classroom first thing in the morning." You explain, and he hums.

"If I'd had a teacher like you growing up, I would've been at school much more than I was."

"You didn't like school?"

"Hated it," he says, opening his hand for the screw. Once you drop the tiny thing into his large palm, he straightens up, and you can barely hear it going back into its rightful place. "'S a miracle I graduated." 

"That was me in college." 

"Now, I don't believe that for a second." 

"Really?" You laugh, and he nods.

"Someone like you, with your pretty dresses and all that empathy, was meant to be a teacher." 

"I wasn't always like this," you evade the compliment despite the butterflies in your stomach. "Being a teacher was never on my radar until I graduated. A lot of my life was never on my radar until then." He puts the hood of the projector back on and climbs down from the desk until he's standing in front of you again, wiping his hands on a red handkerchief from his toolbox. 

"Well, with the way you carry yourself, I never woulda guessed." He says. He opens his mouth to say something more, but the sharp tone of the bell ringing cuts him off. You jump at the sound and look at the clock as if it were wrong. 

"I'm so sorry. Time must've gotten away from me. Thank you so much again, Mr. Miller, for coming in to talk with me and looking at the projector. I hope to see you and Ellie on Friday." You say quickly as the sound of rowdy kids fills the hallway, and you hold your hand out to him. He takes it and squeezes it firmly.

"You can call me Joel. Mr. Miller makes me feel old." He says, and you smile. He doesn't look old, unlike the other dads you've encountered. Sure, he's got some gray at his temples and in his beard, but it suits him. 

"Joel, it is then." You resolve. His hand lingers in yours for a little too long before finally pulling away. "Well, Joel, unless you want to elbow through teenagers, I'd suggest you hide out here for a few more minutes." He does happily, even helping you carry supplies to your car once the hallways have cleared out enough. He's a proper gentleman, slinging your backpack over his shoulder and opening doors for you. You part only once everything is in your trunk, and he bids you goodnight with a charming smile that fills your thoughts on your drive home.

Ellie surprises you the next day as you're setting up the classroom. Normally, she isn't in until right before the bell rings, so seeing her this early is a little bit of a shock. The ink staining her hands is not. "Hey, dude. What's going on?" You ask. "Did you get breakfast from the cafeteria today? I heard Mrs. Hodges has those French toast sticks that everyone loves. You can probably get two servings if you run." 

"No, I already ate. My dad and uncle had to leave early this morning, so we got breakfast. Speaking of which," she says as she takes off her backpack and pulls a cup of iced coffee out of her water bottle pocket. "This is for you. We didn't know what you liked, so we got a vanilla latte or something." 

"Oh, El! You didn't have to do that. Thank you, honey." You say, and she sets it on your desk for you to enjoy once you don't have paintbrushes in hand. "If this is your way of getting a good grade on your piece, I already told you that you have nothing to worry about."

"It wasn't my idea. It was my dad's." She says nonchalantly before moving to the back of the classroom to get her sketch book. You, however, are confused and secretly pleased that Joel thought of you when he didn't have to. You find a message scribbled on the side when you reach for the cup to take a sip. 

Thanks again. See you Friday. -J

You turn to hide your smile from Ellie, but she's so deep in her work that you doubt she would've noticed anyway. You put some music on, and you and Ellie work silently on your projects until the bell rings and the day starts. 

The rest of the week goes by without a hitch, meaning that nobody accidentally ingested paint, and you only had to have one Come to Jesus talk with your Art 1 class. When Friday night rolls around, you're excited to see all the students work and treat yourself by wearing a new shirt with black scribbles all over it and black dress pants. You figure you should look as art teachery as possible for an art teacher event. 

By the time you get to the school, the hallways are buzzing with students dragging their parents from one piece to another and administrators praising their art programs even though you know not one of them has seen the inside of an art classroom in months. You make small talk with some of your students and their parents before finding a way out of the conversation and letting yourself wander through the makeshift gallery. You love your kids, but you really don't want them breathing down your neck as you look at all the art. You're almost at the end when you hear a familiar voice calling your name, and you turn to find Ellie walking toward you with Joel and, who you assume to be her uncle, next to her. 

"Hey, kid! I'm so happy to see you here!" You say sincerely, and she smiles shyly. You turn to her uncle and hold your hand out to introduce yourself. 

"Tommy. We sure have heard a whole lot bout you at home." He says with a smirk, and you laugh. 

"All good things, I hope."

"Of course. Ellie just bout worships the ground you walk on," he says. "Joel was singin' your praises, too." 

"Alright, I think that's enough. Why don't y'all go walk around, and I'll catch up with ya?" He suggests, and Tommy chuckles. Another teacher calls Ellie's name from down the hallway, and she's quick to drag Tommy off to meet him, leaving you and Joel alone. He's replaced his black shirt with a light blue dress shirt, and it looks like he's recently trimmed his beard. He looks nice.

"Singing praises, huh?" You raise your eyebrows at him, and he smiles sheepishly. "Thank you for the coffee the other morning, by the way. It was a really nice surprise." 

"Figured it was the least I could do to thank you for takin' such good care of my girl." 

"Well, thank you. I owe you." 

"You don't owe me a thing," he says. "Although, Tommy was a little upset that I didn't bill you for lookin' at the projector." 

"Was he?" You ask, and he nods.

"Oh, yeah," he laughs. "Said next time I should, at least, ask you on a date."

"Mr. Miller-"

"I thought you agreed to call me Joel." He raises his eyebrows in a silent challenge, and you shake your head, fighting a smile.

"Joel, while I'm flattered by the offer from someone so handsome-"

"You think I'm handsome?"

"I can't date my students' parents." You say, ignoring his question, but even then, the playful look on his face doesn't fade. "Well, I can leave you to it. I know Ellie will probably want to show you around." 

"Right. Of course," he says. "It's really nice to see you."

"You, too. I'm just glad I didn't have paint in my hair this time."

"I don't know. I thought it was kinda cute." You feel yourself blush at his words, but you have to shut it down before it can become anything more than flattery. You take a deep breath and try not to let that stupid smirk weaken your knees as he watches you.

"Goodnight, Joel."

"Goodnight, ma'am." He says, tipping his head politely before sauntering down the hallway like he owns the place. Trouble, you think to yourself. But you can handle trouble. It's in your job description, for Christ's sake. 

So, you brush off the flirting and try to ignore how his kindness and sweet words made you feel. You absolutely cannot flirt with the parent of one of your students. Dating is completely off the table. You can handle this like an adult. You have to. 

After a cold shower and a leftover dinner, you check your email once more before going to bed that night. Sitting in your inbox with alarming clarity is an email from Ellie with the subject line: Art Club. Her email is somehow just as short as her subject line. 

Simply, "When can I start -E." 

TAGLIST: @abbyhaslongshorts @kiwiharrykiwi @sumsworldz @myloveistoolittle @anavatazes @marantha

#joel miller #the last of us #joel miller x reader #joel miller the last of us #the last of us x reader #joel miller fic #joel tlou #joel miller au #the last of us fic #joel the last of us #ellie the last of us #the last of au #tlou au #tlou #tlou fanfiction #ellie tlou #joel and ellie #the last of us hbo #joel x reader #joel miller x f!reader

[spidernuggets]

reader showing jason her plushie collection?

Jason Todd x Reader

"So, you don't think any of this is dumb?"

"Without a shadow of a doubt, sweetheart"

You didn't hear your front door open, though. You'd given your boyfriend, Jason, a spare key to your apartment for emergencies.

You were in your apartment, stuffing your face with chips, watching a movie on your laptop. You had your favourite stuffed animal wedged in between your arm and your cheek, laughing at the comedic one-liners that a character said.

In this case, you had your bedroom door locked because never in a million years would you show your boyfriend your plushie collection.

Most were animals, consisting of cows, bats, sharks, cats, dogs, and more. You had probably 2 or 3 Jellycat plushies, too.

Your most favourite plushie besides the animals was the small bodied, big headed Red Hood plush you found a while ago. You've seen so many Batman, Nightwing, and Robin merchandise, and you always sulked when you came to the conclusion there were no Red Hood merch.

So you took matters into your own hands.

Sure, the stitching and stuffing was a little messy, but you managed to create your own little Red Hood plushie that is currently sitting comfortably beside your laptop so it's easy to see.

Embarrassingly, you'd give it kisses here and there for nights that you worry that Jason might not come back for patrol. But luckily, he always does.

But once again, you'd never show Jason any of this. You're a grown ass adult, living your own life, you have your own place, a full-time job. Plus, your boyfriend is a 6 ft something, 200 pound something vigilante who busts crime and kicks ass.

Why the fuck would he want to date someone who owns thousands of plushies, plus their own homemade one. He'd probably be too embarrassed to be seen with someone like that.

You flinched when you heard a twist on your doorknob.

"Babe? You there?" Jason called out. You heard the slight panic in his voice. You didn't question it since the conversation both of you had about Jason always being paranoid that his occupation would lead you into danger while you're in a relationship with him.

You slammed your laptop shut, frantically looking at the plushies scattered all over your room. Shit.

"Uh- Yeah! Just a sec!" You yelled back, your voice cracking in the process.

You and Jason have been together long enough for him to know when you're panicking. He knocked again. "You okay in there, mama?"

You tripped over yourself, luckily not making much noise, as you shoved all your teddies and plushies and toys into your cramped, small closet, not having time to organise it neatly like usual.

"Yeah, yeah! Just kind of messy in here!" You say as you try to shut your closet.

You rushed to your door, unlocking it and smiling up to your boyfriend in front of you.

"Hi!" You quickly say, awkwardly leaning against your door frame.

"Hi to you too, sweetheart," he replies, looking sloghtly confused. "Why are you out of breath?"

"Oh- I.." You cleared your throat. "I didn't know you were coming over."

"Am I not allowed to?..." He asks, tilting his head to the side.

"You are! You are.. I just thought you'd be busy today."

Jason shrugged. "Hmm. So what were you doing before?"

Your shoulders relaxed as you steadied your breath. "Just watching a movie. Wanna continue with me?"

Jason smiled, kissing your forhead. "Of course, sweetheart."

As you steooed aside from the door to let Jason into your room, from the corner of your eye, you see your closet door slightly open, an ear of your bunny teddy sticking out a little bit.

As Jason went to go open your laptop, he follows your swift movements to shut your closet door.

"What was that?" He asked.

You turned to him as your eyebrows raised high in panic. "What was what?" You ask back quickly. "I was just... y'know.. closing my door. It's nothing, " you say with uncertainty.

"Babe..."

"Yeah?"

"You always have your eyebrows raised when you lie," Jason says, his voice turning monotone and serious.

Your eyebrows immediately go back down. "I- I'm not lying," you stuttered.

Jason walked towards you, stopping right in front of your closet. "Sweetheart? Can you open it up for me?" He asks, only hoping that he's being overdramatic and she has nothing to hide from him.

"Why?" You asked in a small, quiet voice.

"Well, why wouldn't you?"

"Well, there's nothing interesting in there so..."

"I thought we agreed, no secrets," Jason said, getting upset, his emotions starting to escalate. "What? Is there a guy in there?" He says, his insecurities getting the better of him. "You cheating on me? 's that why your door was locked? Why you were running around in here?" He quickly asks all at once.

Your eyes widen. "Jason!" You exclaimed. "I would never cheat on you! You know that!"

Jason takes a breath, calming down. "I... I know. 'm sorry- I'm sorry, baby, I know you wouldn't, I was just being stupid. Had a long day. Let's just watch your movie, hm?" He says, dragging himself across the room once more, sottomg on your bed, getting your movie ready.

You sighed. "No. Jason, you're right. We don't keep secrets," you say as Jason's head shoots up.

"No, no, no! I didn't mean 'it's true, I'm cheating on you', I meant..." You hesitated. You sighed once more before opening your closet, revealing the pile of plushies tumbling down to the ground.

Jason's eyebrows furrowed as he got up, inspecting the toys spread out in front of him. "What? What am I looking at? These things have drugs in them?" He asks.

You give him a confused look. "What? No. It's just my plushie collection," you claimed.

"And...?"

Both you and Jason were utterly confused.

Was he not shocked? Embarrassed at your collection?

Was this your big secret? A bunch of teddies?

"Is... Is it not stupid? Having a shit ton of plushies? Like... I'm a grown ass adult owning children's toys. You really wanna be dating someone that could bring down your... I don't know. Tough guy persona?" You ask.

And Jason laughs. "Sweetheart, what? It's not stupid. I have at least one teddy I kept since I was a kid back in the manor. And I'm sure Dick has more than you," he steps closer to you, cradling your face in his large hands, placing a kiss on your forhead. "And they seem that much to you too. Wanna introduce me to some of them?"

And that question got you eyes twinkling. You're sure you saw heaven. And Jason couldn't help but smile at your excited reaction.

So you started picking up some of your plushies, introducing them to Jason.

You were both sitting on your bed as you described how you fell in love with an octopus plushie at a charity shop until something caught the corner of Jason's eye.

"Oh my god..." he lowly says.

"What?" You ask, suddenly curious.

Jason gets up and heads to you pile of plushies, picking up the clumsily stitched Red Hood toy of him. Your face flushed in embarrassment.

"Do not!... say anything. Don't let it get to your ego, okay? No stores had any Red Hood merchandise..." You pathetically say.

Jason chuckles as he goes over to you, planting a gentle peck on your cheek. "It's cute. You're cute," he says, his index finger under your chin, moving your face towards his as he kisses your lips.

"So you don't think any of this is dumb?" You ask as you break the kiss.

UGHHh thank you for this request, Anon 🙏 This request made me haooy seeing as i have a small plushie collection of my own!!

Jason smiles. "Without a shadow of a doubt, sweetheart," he says as he pulls you in for anotber tender kiss.

#jason todd #jason todd is my life #red hood #titans jason todd #jason todd titans #jason todd x reader #dc titans #i love jason todd #red hood x reader #jason todd headcanon #jason todd x gn!reader #jason todd x gender neutral reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #red hood x gender neutral reader #red hood x you #red hood x y/n #red hood angst #red hood fluff #red hood fic #jason todd ff #jason todd angst #jason todd fluff #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd fic #red hood fanfiction

[i-cant-sing]

I'm not sure what I want to write about but I have this very overwhelmingly strong urge to write about Platonic Yandere Gojo Saturo x teen/adult reader. And not like just light fluff, I'm talking about unhinged yandere Gojo- the one from the latest panels where he was fighting with Sukuna- that Gojo.

Like that Gojo just radiates "buffed up cool dad finally puts his foot down and is now actually low key scary".

Hmm, I mean I could see unhinged Shibuya arc Gojo just going absolutely feral as he drags you away from Toji (your dad) and begins to actively kill him, no matter how much you beg and grovel to spare your father's life. How you can't bare to see your dad taken from you again.

But Gojo? Nah, he doesn't care. He was serious when he took you in (kidnapped u from Naoya/Zenin Clan) and told u that he'll be the father you need.

And he doesn't even have any qualms about knocking you out either, he doesn't need u interfering mid battle and getting injured in the process. He might even hand u over to Yuta and others and cheerfully threaten them to keep you safe while he obliterates Toji, because yes Gojo is 100000% jealous of Toji and you bonding/being closer to each other than u are with Gojo. How fucing dare you??? Does he need to do the speech again?

"Through heavens and earth, I alone am tge honored one" or whatever 🙄🙄🙄

OR OR OR

Listen to me- Romantic yandere UNHINGED Gojo with reader who'd been selected by his clan, trained and raised by them for you to be Gojo's bride. Obviously, growing up Gojo was like "yeahhh, you're not good enough for me" and well treated her like absolute trash (he insulted her) which them lead the clan to be even more harsh on you because why the hell are you still not able to seduce Gojo????? So, basically poor reader is just being absolutely miserable throughout her life until one day the Gojo Clan is finally like "Alright, we gave it our best and Saturo still doesn't like u, so you can work as a maid in our house" and like instantaneously her life turns much better now that she doesn't have the pressure to be the trophy wife/heir producer for Gojo, and reader now can even leave the house to run errands.

But then Gojo notices that there is one less person who was constantly fawning over him, vying for his attention, and he's trying to figure it out who it is when he realises its you! And when he asks his clan about you, they tell him that they demoted u to a servant instead of future Mrs Gojo and Saturo is like "hm. Okay." And it doesn't exactly hit him how much this affected him until he saw you giggling away with some man.

He doesn't react immeadiately, still treating you like you're just nonexistent to him, but deep down, it eats him up the way you were touching that man's arm, the way you looked at him like he hung the stars for you.

Why tf weren't you like this with him?

Whatever. You're just... so beneath him. Why even bother thinking about you?

And then Shibuya arc happens. This man gets trapped in the prison realm and most of his thoughts are occupied by you, and how after be defeats Sukuna and the gang, he's gonna date you and you'll be touching his arm, looking at him with goo goo eyes.

Except when he comes out, for whatever fucking reason, you're fucking clinging onto some guys shoulders, acting like you're a damsel in distress, and if things weren't worse before, they certainly were when you kissed the man in front of him (okay but like u didn't know Gojo was watching u two. Like you were with your man in alley, kissing and hugging each ither lovingly after just barely escaping death from curses and then mf Gojo is just hovering in the sky above you)

Of course, now it's instantaneous death for your man, and then Gojo is just dragging you screaming and crying, and you're like "WHY? WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME??" And Gojo very cheerfully tells you, as if he still wasn't covered in blood from your man-

"I don't want my wife-to-be cheating on me."

Like whoa! Where tf did that came from???? And you're all like "What are u talking about??? Your clan ended our relationship- if you could even call it that?? Besides, you're the one who always said that we're not compatible because I'm beneath you."

And Gojo doesn't even bat an eye, as he goes "doesn't matter. You were born for me. You were made for me to marry, play with, discard, do as I please. So don't you ever even look at another man again, or I will be the one to rip your eyes out." And you know that he's capable of doing that after u just witnessed the live demonstration of your man being murdered.

Anyways, jealous Gojo, be it romantic or platonic, is dangerous unhinged Gojo.

Look at him, the tiny waist, the Toji Fushiguro fit.

#yandere gojo #yandere gojo satoru #yandere gojo saturo #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere jjk