#lizzie's drabbles | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kazmyass · 1 year

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hey i have a request and its fine if you dont do it cause its a little different to your others! y/n is in a movie with scar, lizzie and flo, y/n sh’s but the others dont know that but one day they see the cuts on y/n’s wrist. i lovee your other oneshots btw

One Day At A Time

Pairings: Scarlett Johansson x gn!reader, Lizzie Olsen x gn!reader, Florence Pugh x gn!reader

Description: After a long day on set, y/n doesn’t notice their scars are visible.

Warnings: TW DO NOT READ THIS IF IT WILL MAKE YOU RELAPSE!!! self harm, mention of scars, angst, lots of comfort.

Words: 900

Prompt: Person A has scars and person B finds out about them

A/N: First of all, thank you for the love, I truly appreciate it! You all mean so much to me! I hope you enjoy, and like I’ve said before, my DMs are always open <3

It was weeks, nearly days since y/n had last self harmed. In all honesty, they were doing better than they had in a while. Since being cast in the up and coming Marvel television series, a spinoff of the Avengers, they had felt better. Happier.

They were with some of their best friends. Scarlett was like a mother to y/n, Lizzie and Florence were like sisters. They had become a family, the four of them. And since they were so close and spent so much time together, y/n barely even thought about self harming.

Of course the urge would come back once and awhile. But that wasn’t the problem. It was the scars. Y/n’s scars weren’t the freshest, but they were definitely still there. Their makeup artist who had been with them since the beginning knew how to cover them up, so no one else on set really knew about y/n’s scars. And it wasn’t like y/n’s costume was extremely revealing anyways.

Y/n sat in their trailer, finishing up their hair and zipping up the last bits of their costume.

“You almost ready babes?” Scarlett knocked on the door of the trailer.

“Yeah! I’ll be out in moment!” Y/n called.

“Good! We got you coffee,” Y/n could practically hear Florence wink.

“Thank you!”

When y/n had finished getting ready, they opened the door to their trailer and was greeted with three smiling faces and four cups of coffee. And a croissant, of course, Florence’s favourite.

“Director wants us in the studio by 8, if we run we can make it.” Lizzie said.

“Jesus Christ, why did no one tell me? Its 7:57!” Y/n’s face went pale.

“Run!” Florence yelled, taking off into a sprint, completely forgetting to give y/n their coffee.

Y/n looked down at their phone. 10:37 pm. They had been on set for nearly 15 hours, and all y/n wanted was to go back to their hotel room and sleep. Y/n barely noticed the lack of makeup on their forearm when they and the girls were walking back to their trailers.

“I didn’t know they added scars to your character. When did they do that?” Lizzie asked out of the blue, nodding towards y/n’s arm.

Y/n cocked their head for a moment, confused as to what Lizzie was talking about.

“Wait yeah, those are badass!” Scarlett added on.

The four reached the trailer section of the set. And it hit y/n. They were talking about their self harm scars.

“I-” Y/n started, too shocked to be able to form a sentence. Florence’s face was the first to drop. She smacked her hand over her mouth and whispered a muffled, “Lizzie.”

Lizzie realized within a split second, as did Scarlett. Scarlett was the first to speak.

“Oh baby, c’mere.” She said, holding her arms out for a hug. Y/n stood for a moment, then collapsed into Scarlett’s arms. Florence and Lizzie enveloped y/n in a big hug and the four were silent for a minute.

“I’m so sorry, y/n. If I had known I never would have said anything” Lizzie said when they broke apart.

Y/n stayed silent.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Florence said, taking y/n’s hand in hers.

Y/n was still silent. Then they took a deep breath.

“I don’t know. I just, I struggle sometimes. I’ve never been like, officially diagnosed or anything, but,” Y/n looked at their faces. Each one of them was focused entirely on them. “I just feel like there’s no way out sometimes. So I...” Y/n trailed off, gesturing to their arm as a conclusion to their sentence.

“Oh hun, I’m so sorry you have to go through that. That’s awful.” Lizzie said.

“It’s okay.” Y/n said, tears threatening to fall from their eyes.

“No, it’s not. You shouldn’t have to go through that. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone, let alone a beautiful soul like yours,” Scarlett said. She took y/n’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “We’re here for you love, no matter what.”

Florence had stayed silent the whole time. It was confusing to y/n, Florence usually was the most supportive out of the three girls.

“Hey guys, can I just talk to y/n alone real quick. We’ll meet up with you after.” Florence asked.

“Yeah of course, we’ll see you back at the hotel?” Scarlett said.

Florence nodded, watching the two girls leave and then turning her attention to y/n.

“I understand how you feel.” Florence said.

“Thank you,” y/n said, not really realizing what Florence was really saying.

“No I mean, I really understand.” Florence stayed silent and looked at y/n. Y/n searched Florence’s eyes. And it clicked.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” Y/n said.

“Why? It’s been ages and I’m not ashamed. They’re my battle scars. I know it sounds cliche, but I went through a lot a couple years ago, and I like to think of them as a sign that it gets better. How long has it been?” Florence explained.

“Two weeks,” Y/n said.

“Two weeks is amazing y/n!” Florence watched as y/n smiled sheepishly. “Look, I’m not going to tell you to come to me whenever you feel like doing this, or tell you to bring me what you use or whatever you’ve heard before. Just take it one day at a time. Okay?”

“Okay.” Y/n said.

“I love you, y/n. We all do.”

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moonlitmeeks · 1 year

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bee ! i see your bbf remus x sirius’s slytherin sister and i raise you to:

bbf sirius x remus’s hufflepuff sister

idk where this came from but yeah . ✨idea✨

lizzie!! this is my first bbf!sirius post somehow, so thank u for your genius<3 as a hufflepuff, i’m all for this! this is just. a stream of consciousness. but ill come back to the idea when my mind works better DHSKDJ. thanks for the idea love!! 🫶

this is sirius we’re on about, so of course there’s a ton of teasing, both concerning your house and your brother. he goes on and on about how you can’t possibly be related remus, cause you’re so sweet and kind, and moony is always moody and snapping at him. must be the hufflepuff in you, is what he always says. he loves to play around with your tie, fiddling with the material between his fingers and saying he might borrow it one time, just to shake things up. he laughs at your distraught expression, assuring you he’s only kidding… mostly. when you pout at him, he tells you to stop huffing and puffing, a joke he uses extensively and finds just as hilarious every time.

#🦢 ; bee’s drabbles!#lizzie<3 #sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #sirius black x y/n #sirius black fic #sirius black drabble #sirius black blurb #marauders #marauders x reader #marauders fluff #marauders era imagine

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hotdamnitsmoony · 5 months

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listening to call your mom by noah kahan & lizzy mcalpine while reading crimson rivers was a big mistake, i’m not ok

(currently on chapter 65)

#marauders #marauders era #dead gay wizards #sirius black #sirius orion black #marauders drabble #james potter #remus lupin #wolfstar #james fleamont potter #crimson rivers #noah kahan #lizzy mcalpine #call your mom #currently sobbing

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bxckywrites · 9 months

Text

A Little Too Much // Part 6

Series Paring - Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Warnings - I'm not sure, I'll update this later

Other Characters - Steve

Word Count - 1,162 (not as long as I wanted my apologies)

Part Summary - After being brought back to the compound, Wanda waits for you to wake up.

gif is not mine

A/N - This part is long overdue, but I may be coming back to finish the series soon :)

Part 5

____

It’s been 2 weeks since the team found you in Romania and since that day you’ve been stuck in the hospital ward Stark built a few years prior. The doctors decided to put you into a medically induced coma in order to heal after the trauma and all of the surgeries you underwent. Through it all, Wanda never once left your bedside and had set up a place to sleep at night so that she could be there when you eventually woke up. There had been a few close calls over the last few weeks, but each time you managed to pull through.

“They should wake within the next couple of minutes,” Tony states. He sits on the makeshift bed and waits patiently for any signs of movement from either you or your “guard dog” as Natasha so kindly named her.

Your eyes begin to open and you wince as the light hits you. “Y/N you’re awake!”

Wanda struggles to contain her excitement as she grabs onto your arm as gently as she can in case it hurts. The look in her eyes screams relief as she begins to ramble about how much she missed you and how she’ll never forgive herself for your kidnapping. She doesn’t seem to notice your eyes darting across the room, trying to locate where her voice is coming from. You know in your heart that your best friend is the one speaking, but where is she and why can’t you see her?

“We almost lost you a few times but I knew you’d pull through. You’re the toughest person I know!” Her smile begins to falter as she finally looks into your eyes and realizes that you’re staring at the ceiling. “Y/N? What’s wrong?”

Wanda begins frantically calling for anyone to help, worried about the unkown and terrified that she’s going to lose you.

Your gaze never moves from it’s place and you can’t understand why you are struggling to speak. It’s so frustrating. Why will the words not come out? You can’t remember what happened but you're sure they left your vocal cords alone as they don't feel different. There is rushing around the room but you can’t force yourself to move. Nothing hurts anymore but the thought of moving terrifies you. You can hear voices calling out to you, all worried, all afraid, but you can’t bring yourself to tell them that you're alright. Maybe some more sleep will help. Maybe you just woke up too early.

Peace begins to wash over you as you begin to drift into unconsciousness, letting sleep take over your body, you close your eyes and take a breath.

____

*Wanda’s POV*

“What’s going on?! Why are they not speaking?!”

I can’t breathe. They were awake, I saw their eyes. What happened? Did I do something?

My throat begins to close as I continue to scream at the doctors, begging them to help my dear friend. I can’t lose them like I’ve lost so many others. I will not lose them. Everyone turns their attention to me as fear flashes in the eyes of the doctors. What are they looking at?

“Wanda, maybe you should get some air and let the doctors help Y/N.”

My eyes snap towards Steve and I notice his hand is outstretched towards me as if he wants me to take it. I begin to understand the fear as I look down at my own hands and see the glowing red smoke bleeding through my fingers.

I take a deep breath and calmly walk out of the room, turning around for a brief moment to see the doctors swarm around you.

Trying to distract my mind I ended up in the training room, throwing magic everywhere as I destroy the targets one by one. It makes it easier to hit something when you think of it as someone you’d like to kill. I would kill Strucker in every universe if it meant you would wake up again. Another target morphs behind me and I hit it with enough force to take the head clean off, smiling at my work. Something about destroying things makes my brain feel better, almost helps me to forget why I am upset or hurt in the first place.

I remember the first time we trained together. I did most of the work, but your company was needed and the patience shown towards my fury made it hard to not feel safe around you.

Someone came into the room around 10 minutes ago but I haven’t cared enough to acknowledge them. I can feel them watching me as I take my anger out on the entire room but I do not care. It’s only when their hand grabs onto my shoulder that I finally look to see Steve.

Rogers has always been someone I can trust, even in my darkest moment he has fought for me and cared for me. “Sorry about the targets, do you think Tony will be mad?” Stark can afford new tech and more training targets but I still feel a little bad that I ruined over half of the room. His eyes light up as he lets out a short laugh, “I think he’ll be more worried about never making you mad.” The thought of Stark being scared of me hurts a little but I know Steve didn’t mean it in a bad way so I laugh a little at his “joke”. A sigh escapes me as I rest my head in my hands.

“I don’t know what to do Steve,” my eyes begin to burn as I feel them swell with tears. So many toughts race through my mind as I replay the moments between your eyes opening and closing again. I can’t figure out what went wrong.

Steve puts his arms around me as he hugs my shaking body to his. Moments like this remind me of why I fight so hard to do the right thing and yet, I can still feel the rage boiling in my stomach. “The doctors said that their vision must’ve been blurry when they woke up because of how long they were out,” Steven rubs my back as he talks, “you did nothing wrong Wanda. They were probably not ready yet and that's why they closed their eyes again.” My heart feels like someone ripped it out and burned it at the thought of you being overwhelmed by waking up and the rambling I chose to do most likely did not help. I know you’ll wake again, soon I hope, but I worry about your recovery. If the doctors were right and your eyes just couldn't adjust to reality and not your comatose state, will it be permanent? I can’t bare the thought of you going through that.

“C’mon,” Rogers offers me his hand again, “they’re awake and asking for you.”

I can feel my heart begin to race as I rush to the room.

____

Part 7

Feedback is always appreciated

Taglist: (forgot to add before posting sorry!)

@severepeanutartisanhands , @honey-sweet-hiraeth , @xxxtwilightaxelxxx , @diaryoflife

#wanda maximoff x reader #marvel #marvel imagine #marvel drabble #marvel one shot #wanda maximoff #a little too much #wanda maximoff one shot #wanda maximoff drabble #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x gender neutral reader #wanda maximoff x you #lizzy olsen #elizabeth olsen

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froggymarsh · 4 months

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hi!! can i ask for #27 with empires joel or maybe life series bad boys, whichever u think fits the song better? :D

love this song :D it's in french so i'm going entirely off of vibes 😎👍

Joel always feels the smallest when he's walking next to Lizzie.

She towers above him- all blue scales and flowing pink hair like a waterfall down her back. Her tail swishes lightly behind them, almost inseparable to the trailing fabric of her dress. A webbed hand holds his as if he's something precious, and Joel can't help but feel so small.

He's been working on it with Jimmy. Being small around Jimmy is as easy as breathing, but being small around Lizzie is hard! What if she thinks he's weird? Or that he's weak and can't handle himself? Or what if she sees him have an accident?

He squeezes her hand and tries not to think about it. To his surprise, she squeezes back.

He tilts his head up. A cloud halos her head, glowing a lovely pink in the fading light of sunset. She smiles, and Joel's breath escapes him.

She's beautiful.

"Hi," he whispers.

She laughs, light and beautiful, like the kind of bell that would give an angel its wings. "Hello, Joel."

He's feeling brave. "Can I paint you?"

"Paint me?" Lizzie repeats as they step carefully into the Mezalean Matral Palace, nodding to terracotta guards and making their way up to where she knows Joel's bedroom is. "You can, Joel, but right now it's bedtime."

"Please?" he asks, a breath of a thing. He nearly trips over his own feet, eyes locked on Lizzie's. She catches him, looking down again, and he gives her his best puppy-dog eyes, "jus' fast before bed?"

Lizzie smiles, then sighs and reaches over to ruffle his hair.

"Fine. Just fast before bed."

He beams, grasping her hand in both of his and practically drags her all the way up to his room.

Once there, he releases her hand, ducks through the curtains that make up the door, and bounds across the room to the dresser that holds all of his chalk. He pulls it open, yanking a bit when it catches in the middle, and digs through it, pulling out all the blues and pinks that he can find and dumping them onto the floor.

"Oh, careful," Lizzie calls, "don't break all your chalk!"

"I won't!" he shouts back.

Once he's got all of them out, he turns, makes the front of his shirt a pouch, and scoops all of the chalk into it. Then he walks along the wall and finds a place that hasn't been drawn on- a spot in the middle of a small field of sunflowers. He thinks he was saving this spot for something else, but he doesn't remember anymore. It was probably supposed to be him and Lizzie.

He kneels down and dumps all his chalk on the floor again, whipping his head around to see where Lizzie is. She's laying pajamas out on the bed.

"'izzie!" he calls.

She looks up. He pats the spot on the floor next to him. She laughs and makes her way over, a towel draped over her arm.

"Sit sit sit," he says, patting the ground again. She crouches, and instead of sitting like he wants, she removes the crown from his head and fluffs out his hair. "Hey!"

"Just a minute, pumpkin," Lizzie leans down, kissing the top of his head, "I'm going to get everything ready for bedtime, and then I'll come sit, okay?"

Joel pouts.

"I promise," she shifts the crown into her other hand and extends a pinky. "Pinky promise."

He pouts more, but reluctantly wraps his pinky around hers and shakes it once.

She kisses his cheek. "I'll be right back."

He squirms away, giggling, and turns to the wall as she walks away. Before she can disappear, he gets a blue off the floor and starts with an outline.

He's drawn Lizzie a hundred million times before- usually in paintings of the ocean, or in her office, or high up in a tower, or flying through the air on a trident. Many of the drawings are hanging on his walls, in fact, or scribbled in the margins of his notebooks, doodled on the backs of napkins or on blank pages of old books, always careful, always detailed, never as breathtakingly beautiful as the real thing.

Joel grips the piece of chalk tight and vows to make this the best drawing he's ever done.

The chalk scrapes gently against the wall as he works. A bathtub fills in the other room. The wind chimes on his balcony sing, rocked by a gentle breeze. He adds himself next to her- sticks his tongue out between his teeth in concentration- squints at the wall, completely absorbed in his task.

He looks up at the swishing of skirts, and finds Lizzie carefully tracing her fingers along the shapes of sunflowers as she approaches.

"'izzie," he whispers.

Lizzie looks up. Her smile makes her eyes crinkle.

He pats the floor in front of his drawing, and she comes over, obediently kneeling down in front of it. He sits in her lap, pieces of chalk in both hands.

She wraps her arms around him, content.

Then, she gasps. "Is that us?"

Joel nods, trying to scoot forward while still staying on Lizzie's lap. She lifts him and shifts closer to help him reach.

"What are we doing?" Lizzie asks, the gentle tone of her voice warm and safe and wonderful.

"Dancing," Joel answers, finishing the brown on either side of the green stripe in his hair. Then he whispers, "do you like it?"

"I love it," Lizzie whispers back, "you're doing amazing."

And there they sit for an hour or so, listening to the quiet scraping of chalk on the walls and Lizzie's gentle questions. When Joel is properly covered in colorful streaks of chalk dust, his head drooping, Lizzie carefully removes the chalk from his hands and scoops him into her arms, kissing his forehead on the way to the bathtub.

He protests, but quickly settles in the warmth of the water, the flush of his face hidden by mountains of bubbles. After a bath, Lizzie carefully dries him off with a towel, helps him into brightly patterned pajamas, then tucks him into bed with another kiss to the forehead.

She slips across the room to gather up piles of chalk when he calls out to her.

"'izzie?"

She looks up, straightening her posture to meet his eyes, "yes?"

"You're nod'eaving?"

"Not yet, pumpkin," Lizzie answers, returning to her task, picking up three more bits of chalk, "I'm going to clean up first."

"Can you stay, p'ease?"

She pauses. Looks up again.

"For how long?"

"All night," he whispers, pleading, "p'ease?"

She smiles, "of course."

He beams, shifting to one side of the bed to make room.

"I'm going to finish cleaning up first, okay? I'll be there in just a little bit, love."

He nods, fast, and Lizzie returns yet again to her task.

She finishes quickly. Calls for a maid to retrieve one of her spare nightgowns, sings a lullaby to Joel while she waits. When it's brought she changes quickly and climbs into bed next to him, the curl of her tail reaching all the way around him, the tip of it pressing lightly on his back for only a moment.

He's barely awake now. She leans forward, kissing his forehead yet again. This time he doesn't open his eyes, letting out a gentle sigh.

"Love you, 'izzie," he murmurs.

She smiles, "love you too, Joel."

The morning brings embarrassment. She'd expect nothing less- he's always embarrassed after regressing.

He apologizes. She tells him he's cute. He blushes a lot, insisting he isn't cute, that he's never been cute, but Lizzie boops his nose and his words dissolve into meaningless fluff, and he buries his face in his hands and lets himself be scooped into a hug, pressed against her chest.

She can feel his heartbeat. She tucks him under her chin and hums.

They have to get up eventually. Lizzie has to go run a kingdom.

Before she does, Joel spots the drawings on the wall.

"What's this mess?" he asks, but the flush on his face suggests he remembers what happened, knows exactly what it was. Lizzie smiles.

"It's us," Lizzie answers, "we're dancing."

Joel smiles, his eyes full of nothing but fondness as he looks up at her. "So we are."

#joel tag #lizzie tag #empires agere #froggy drabbles #THINKS ABOUT THEM. WAAAUGH.#the themb. the belobeds.#started joel pov and ended lizzie pov i'm doin great /lh #might edit this and put it on ao3 later. thinks.

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chirimichi · 2 years

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Dragging his wagon through the mesa was not fun. His arms ache and it feels like they’ll fall off any second and his legs feel like they’re slowly getting swallowed by sand. This is the moment he’s starting to regret the fact that he didn’t look for a horse before going to the mesa. He is also starting to regret choosing the mesa as his empire.

But just as he was about to continue to complain to no one about wagons, horses and red sand, something catches the wheel of the wagon and the abrupt stop trips Jimmy, face falling first into the sand. Great. Just what he needed.

Grumbling as he clumsily pushes himself to his feet, he bites his tongue to stop himself from cursing, and goes to check whatever made his day a tad worse.

There’s something jutting out underneath the first wheel to the right- the color blends well with the sand, just a little lighter, like terracotta. If it wasn’t for the odd shape of it, he would’ve passed it for a block of terracotta and ignored it. But his curiosity’s now piqued, his annoyance was shoved to the side as he pushed his wagon backwards to kneel down. Hands on the ground and sand already getting caught in his nails, he parts away the sand.

About a third of the way deep in the sand, he can make out what seems to be a statue, or at least, a part of a statue. With more enthusiasm, he digs faster and when he's sure he can finally pull the thing out easily without it gettinf broken, he gently lifts it up and examines it.

It’s an unfinished bust of a woman- her face delicately detailed with a gentle smile, her eyes looking warm despite it just being a sculpture, and her hair’s long and wavy and looks halfway finished. On top of her head is a crown, an odd one with what seems to look like corals but it still works nonetheless. It just looks like a normal statue of a woman, of a queen… if you ignore the fins where the ears should be.

Jimmy stared at it for a while, curious and intrigued.

Huh, she kinda looks like Lizzie.

…

Jimmy smiles, scoffing as he stands up and carefully places the bust in his wagon.

“What a silly thought.”

#can you tell that i really love jimmy for choosing the mesa? xD #the idea of him accidentally stumbling upon stuff from mezalea is just *chef kiss* for me #also yknow those hcs where joel kept on making sculptures of lizzie so he won't forget her face? king shit!#consider this a part two of the other drabble i made? ig? i dunno #jimmy solidarity #solidarity gaming #empires smp #empires smp s2 #empires season 2 #chiri writes

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liz-allyn · 2 years

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Is it too late for me to send a 📸📸??? If it is ignore me 😘

It's NEVER TOO LATE! Actually, this one made the cutoff and this is the last 📸 pic fic, sorry everyone!

But how about we check back in with Workplace Rival!Peter for a change of pace?

part 2 of this. smutty filth under the cut featuring religious imagery and daddy kink. people who remember when it was briefly acceptable to wear skinny ties with tank tops, you know what to do.

“Fuck, baby, y’taste better than I ever expected.”

The sound of the deep timbre of his voice, combined with the wet lapping of his tongue reignited a blaze in your belly.

Your eyes opened wide, gazing up at the hanging silver-orange clouds reflecting the lights of New York above. The night wind whistled through the skeletal frame of the building, tucking in your lewd moans and dirty secrets, and sweeping them away.

The partially-constructed high rise on Park would soon be home to multimillion-dollar condos. But tonight, it was a shrine. A proverbial Tower of Babel constructed so that you could proclaim your testimony to the gods. A place of worship where you praise the name of one man.

Spider-Man. Or whatever his real name was.

If Manhattan’s newest development was now a shrine, then you were placed on its altar. You were spread out on a length of plywood suspended between two sawhorses. Your body as bare as the day you took your first breath. The structure was secured with sticky, stronger-than-steel webbing, and anointed with your sweat, tears, and cum.

You were eager to be offered up as a sacrifice, your trembling legs spread wide with your head thrown back, bare tits heaving. The masked hero bestowed blessing upon blessing on you, using fingers and tongue.

You could’ve mistaken his voice with that of a god’s if what he was saying to you wasn’t so sinful.

Who were you kidding? He was your god. And you were a sinner yourself that needed his brand of atonement.

“Someone’s been a bad kitty,” the Spider lustfully groaned, his mask pulled halfway up to reveal juicy, devil-red lips still dripping with your forbidden fruit. “Only thing that gets under my skin more’en a dirty thief is a filthy liar.” The wind chilled the wet flesh of your cunt in his absence. “We’ll straighten you out though, yeah?”

You’d already paid your tithe. You came twice on his fingers and twice on his lips.

“But three’s the magic number,” he chuckled sadistically, as he dived back in between your thighs.

You screamed. You thrashed. You pleaded. You howled at the moon above. But your master demanded more, and more you would give.

“You wear these pretty panties for me, sweetheart?” he said, toying with the lace thong adorned with diamond-studded straps. In his haste, he had pulled your underwear to the side before finger fucking you. “Betcha figured red was my favorite color, yeah? Wanted to get all dressed up for Daddy?”

You squealed at the name, your voice and your body breaking into tiny pieces. Tears flowed down your cheeks, filled with his spirit. Your mewling echoed off the consecrated structure.

“You’re doin’ so good, baby. Such a pretty little slut.”

He knew all of your secrets. You’d confessed your sins, wholeheartedly.

“You been takin’ care of that pretty pussy for me while I’m out protecting the city? You been treatin’ her right?”

It was a commandment. Propping yourself up on your elbows, you nodded your head emphatically beneath your quivering cries. You dared not to look at the sight in front of you, for fear the immorality of it would cast you into a lake of damnation.

“Course you did, baby. Such a good girl f’me.”

Before you could think, he’d changed positions, moving with the tempo beneath your breast. He stood tall before you, statuesque in his tight, webbed, red-and-blue robes. His muscles rippled beneath the material as he placed both hands on your thighs, gripping you tight. The wicked smile was the only visible flesh above his waist. You licked your lips as you gazed, wide-eyed, as he pulled his heavy, dripping cock from his tights into his glove and lined up with your entrance.

With no pretense, he sheathed himself inside of you, burying himself to the hilt. You cried out like the heathen you were, fully enraptured. You were lost to all other causes as he thrusted in and out of you. You took him—all of him, as a faithful servant. A student to your master, as he showed you what heaven felt like.

“How ya doin’, baby girl? Y’like that? You gotta use your words f’me or we’ll haveta stop. You like it when I touch you like that?”

“Oh, gods,” you gasped suddenly, “yes, Spider-Man, I love it—ah!” You roared, struck with another wave of pleasure, as if has asking for your consent was enough to push you over the edge, because of course it fucking was. “Fuck, I love it so much. Feels too good—gahh—!”

You had to shield your eyes from his lascivious smirk. It was the most beautiful smile you’d ever seen. A beauty surely not of this world, but even still—it was achingly familiar to you. The bizarre, maddening, almost-recognition of his grin burned you from the inside out, in every corner of your body you treasured.

You cried out to the heavens for mercy.

“Mercy, eh?” his luscious lips twisted into a sinister smile. The steel grip of his massive hand encircled your throat as he pulled you close and whispered, almost cruelly. “You’d better get religion.”

How could you, when he was your religion? You whimpered and mewled and cried out as much to the Spider as he quickened his pace. He groaned and growled at the desperation in your voice.

“Fuck yeah, baby—Gotta keep making those gorgeous sounds for me. Daddy’s jus’ gettin’ started.”

Your jaw drops open, scandalized.

“That’s right, baby. I got no clue who 'Y-Slash-N' is, but she sure likes to come a lot.”

...

You stare at the cursor on your computer screen, highlighting that sentence again, musing over it. You repeat the phrase, re-reading it carefully. The soft soundtrack of a Daily Bugle afternoon provided a music bed to your concentration: chimes of computer alerts, quiet chatter, and soft keystrokes.

Bold. Was it too much? You questioned yourself.

You glanced at the tiny number signifying the number of notes—well over 1,000 and counting since posting yesterday afternoon. Spider-Man was right—it was an excellent entry for Sinful Sunday.

Is it too heavy on the sacrilege? you mused, anticipating the hate messages from readers who didn’t check the warnings.

It could’ve been worse. You neglected to add the part about pulling a splinter from your ass cheek when you got home.

You clicked on the home button of your blog’s dashboard. A giant banner with your blog’s name TheBlackCatxxx69, and the header “TAKE OFF YOUR CLOTHES RIGHT MEOW” appeared on the screen.

You moved through the black, white, and pink navigation, over your cosplay pfp of your online OC (a risque, yet tasteful photo—a medium body shot of you in an inky, skintight, liquid latex bodysuit lined with white fur trim that framed just the right amount of boob, your face hidden behind a kitty mask), over to an envelope icon to open your messages.

Your asks were full of adoring messages.

Oof, you thought. Somebody needs to get laid. And you told them as much as you hit “Answer.”

“You and me both, sweetheart,” you whispered under your breath. That thought pinched your cheeks into a blushing smirk. You leaned back in your office chair, gazing at the screen as you watched your loyal followers eat.

“Knock knock,” a voice rang out behind you. You jumped at the sound of the voice. Startled, you quickly hid your incognito windows, featuring your Tumblr blog and a separate tab search list of alternative forms of “penis.” You spun around to the doorway of your cubicle and at the towering, lithe form leaning against it.

“I’m not interrupting anything am I?” your colleague rival Peter Parker asked, a quirky grin stretched across his face. You smiled to mask your alarm. He was. And he knew it. Even if you didn’t.

And for the record, his sense of smell wasn’t so advanced that he could make it a habit of picking up on any woman’s arousal like some kind of horny bloodhound.

(Geez, is that an issue for that Devil guy? File that away for later…)

But now that he’d caught your scent up close he was certainly going to work on it. Might be a handy skill. For sleuthing.

For justice.

You sighed icily, visibly uncomfortable, “Just a ton of work, why?”

The smile Peter gave never faltered, as he crossed his arms in front of his chest. He wore a henley top with his sleeves pulled up, exposing his forearms, which apparently you thought a lot about. “I just wanted to say congrats,” he shrugged with a pleasant tone. “On your big story.”

You froze, eyes going wide. “Sorry?”

He watched your eye twitch. He was beaming. “Your feature on Spider-Man?” he explained. “The interview in Sunday’s edition?”

The realization must have hit you that he was referring to content of the actual interview, that he properly gave, filled with good journalism and news of public interest. Right before you two... well, filled something else. Properly.

Your shoulders loosened and you snorted, blew a raspberry, and guffawed in rapid succession.

God, you actually were really cute when you were flustered. And while having a toe-curling, earth-shattering orgasm atop a sketchy makeshift table covered in sawdust.

“Robbie told me The Bugle hasn’t sold out a paper since 2007,” Peter added enthusiastically.

You nodded your head, avoiding his cocoa eyes. More humbly, you explained, “I’m just relieved that Jonah’s finally going to let me pursue more important topics. There’s a lot of wrong in this town that could use a little light.”

He watched you closely, noting the way the small recognition he gave you also tinted your cheeks. For a more noble reason.

Peter pressed his lips together, nodding in approval, “Whatever it takes.” Then, more earnestly, he added, “It was a really good article.”

Your eyes flicked up to his, surprised. You watched him closely, just to make sure the praise was genuine. It was. And you looked flattered, despite yourself. “Thank you,” you softly replied, with true gratitude.

Since that night, Peter had found himself feeling bad about his deception. Little bit. Maybe. He thought perhaps he should offer to buy you an after-work beer as a consolation. A celebration of your upcoming, well-deserved promotion. And maybe you could call it a first—or second—date?

“Thank you, Pete,” you repeated tenderly. “That means so much. It’s nice to finally have that validation that you—in fact—can read.”

Fuck it. He doesn’t feel bad about it. At all.

He scoffed beneath his breath. “Well, y’know, I did have one free article left to read this month.”

The more he thought about it, you probably needed to get fucked again.

“Huh,” you stated thoughtfully, “I thought Jonah was going to IT disable that feature for this.”

“Yeah,” Peter shrugged, sheepishly, “but... technically... that would be false advertising. Which is illegal. Turns out.” He lifted himself off of the doorframe, beginning his retreat. “Anyway. Can’t wait for the next one.”

You blinked, curiously. “Next one?”

Peter shrugged nonchalantly, “Yeah, your next interview with Spider-Man.”

Your eyes went delectably wide.

“N’fact, hit me up next time,” he called back as he strolled off, leaving you in a flustered state. “‘Case you need someone to take pictures.”

A/N: Well that was fun! I've got a few more of these 600 celebration recs to answer, but blurby asks are closed! (Actually, I just can't do them because my head will explode and I'll forget to do stuff like eat.) TYSM all of you lovelies that participated!

Don't forget to show your support by reblogging and/or commenting on your favorite works and thank you for keeping fandom writing alive and healthy!

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rottingskunk · 5 months

Text

Blessed By Enderian Hands

By: rottingskunk

A drabble based on Ldshadowlady’s session 6 events. (Major secret life spoilers ahead.)

Trigger warning: Descriptions of violence, implied death,description of scars (not detailed but good warning)

“What happens if Lizzie survived the fall?”

Scott and Lizzie visit the end for a secret slumber party however Scott never knew Lizzie’s true intentions until it was too late. They both travel to the end and explore the barren land full of endermen and an abandoned ender dragon post. It felt odd to Lizzie that she could hear murmurs of conversation from endermen speaking in enderscript but she shakes it off and continues forth.They converse briefly about the party and how Lizzie invited everyone to join. “Nobody is ever gonna find you here” She said sinisterly. It felt ominous and sent chills down Scott’s back. “Why did you say it like that?” Scott asks unsure what will occur in this realm. “It’s nothing to worry about.” She replies and laughs it off.

~~~

As they reach the edge of the world Lizzie offers Scott a enderpearl so that he can “teleport” to the party. Wielding her axe she strikes Scott in the back heavy handed with a good amount of damage. Scott in a panic shouts “Lizzie what are you doing?” “Oh nothing it’s just a something on your back” Lizzie replies back with a innocent yet sinister tone. “That took three hearts of damage Lizzie!” He replies back worried about how much damage it was. Lizzie grins and decides to strike him more in the air aiming for a crit.“That only took one heart of damage.” Scott says plainly,he secretly tries to find his way back when suddenly an enderman punches Lizzie in the face. The impact was intense and felt as if she was thrown off by a few feet. The enderman says “⟟ ⏃⋔ ⌇⍜⍀⍀⊬” and knocks Lizzie off the edge after punching her one last time. Lizzie knew what the enderman said to her [I am sorry-who says that??] she thought in her head as she screamed at her unending demise. Scott shouts her name one last time “LIZZIE!” Reaching out to the cliff where she fell. He stands there stunned, unsure what happened to her but quickly flees the scene as he cannot look at the eyes of endermen.

~~~

Her fall felt as if she was like icarus crashing into the ocean after his wax wings melted off. Lizzie tries to throw an enderpearl but is unable to due to panicking from the fall. The screen turns into frozen static Stating “you ran out of lives”. It remained the same for five minutes but there was a corrupted “respawn” button that showed up on her screen. Unsure if it was a good idea Lizzie impulsively clicks on the respawn and thus wakes up back in the over world.

~~~

She wakes up in a cold sweat in her light pink bed. The end’s aura felt heavy around her, unsure why that was the case she shoos it away and gets out of bed to wash her face. She turns on the faucet and washes her hands but the water makes her flinch in pain. She screams at the pain, roughly shaking her hand. “Did someone trap this with lava? It can't be…” Lizzie’s glances at her appearance in the mirror and is shocked by her appearance.

~~~

Half of Lizzie’s face has a scar that mimics End particles etched into her skin. Her right eye appears to be a deep purple with pink accents similar to an enderman’s eyes. Lizzie screams at her reflection out of confusion. She then looks at her arms and legs and some patches of her skin have similar effects of an endermen. Looking at her hands shaking slightly from the gravity of this situation they look discolored with shades of purple up until her elbow. “This can’t be happening—-I should be dead!” Lizzie touches her face out of disbelief and she hears whispers of the end and starts running out of her house.

~~~

“My skeletal steed we must run off-somewhere,anywhere!” Before Lizzie leaves in such haste she checks her chests for any important items. “Where are my ores? Skizz must have stolen them, I’ve been robbed!” Lizzie takes anything she has and places it inside her inventory, unsure whether she will ever return to her pumpkin cottage she hoists herself up on the skeletal steed. The steed gallops into the air and off they go who knows where.

~~~

After traveling half the day Lizzie stumbles upon Joel’s base in the distance. “Did you bring me here my good steed? What a good skeleton horse.” She pets the boney steed and gives it a small kiss on the forehead. Lizzie looks around and sees a small gravestone at the back of the helter skelter. “What’s this?” Lizzie inches closer and sees the etching on the sign. “R.I.P Lizzie I will win for you Lizzie”. A wither rose was attached to the front of the gravestone and she collapsed onto the ground with tears in her eyes. “I’m so sorry Joel-I messed up.” She cries to herself unable to get up from seeing the gravestone.

~~~

A rustle of wheat being removed alerts her and steps moving forward makes her head lift up. “Joel? Is that you.” Lizzie whispers, still hoarse from crying and wailing for the guilt. Joel had a solemn face as he carried his stack of wheat to feed the cows and he found Lizzie next to her grave. “LIZZIE YOU LIVE!” He drops everything and runs to her and they both tumble into a small patch of sunflowers. They laugh at the entire ordeal and give each other kisses on the cheek and forehead.

~~~

“I missed you so much so much has happened while you were in the end. Scott told me everything and Skizz gave me your ores-I am so sorry for asking you to kill Scott I shouldn’t have done that”. Lizzie smiles at her husband who is speaking at the speed of life about different events conspiring. *“⟟ ⏃⋔ ⌇⍜⍀⍀⊬ ⎎⍜⍀

⟒⎐⟒⍀⊬⏁⊑⟟⋏☌” Lizzie spoke in unknown tongues, Joel looks perplexed. “Did something happen Lizzie?” He says worringly Joel tucks a lock of her hair aside.* “⟟ ⎅⍜ ⋏⍜⏁ ☍⋏⍜⍙” Lizzie attempts to speak to her husband but she cannot speak overworld. Joel takes her inside the helter skelter and tries to understand her. Joel looks through his chests to find the tools for a book and quill. He fishes out what he could and places it on a crafting table and magic particles craft the book and quill.”Maybe you should write it inside this book” Joel asks Lizzie as he gives it to her.She gets the book and writes “I can’t speak in english.” She wrote in a steadfast manner and both had lost the color in their face.

[Authors note: Hi guys i wrote this on a whim i might continue it bc i actually like this au a lot and i would love to write more about this Ender!Lizzie au^^! The english translation of enderscript in the last paragraph(1) “I am sorry for everything”. (2) “I do not know”. Ok thats all bye yall HAHAHA]

#ldshadowlady #secret life smp #secret life spoilers #traffic life series #drabble #i had this idea yesterday my brain was on FIRE since yesterday #ender!Lizzie au #scott major #smallishbeans #trafficblr #fanaticrottingskunk

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