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i-magines · 1 year

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Wildest Dreams: Chapter 4

Pedro Pascal x fem!Reader

synopsis: You’re an assistant director in an indie movie set and fate makes sure you keep crossing paths with a certain Chilean actor.

disclaimer: This is my first Pedro Pascal’s fictional work + the first fanfic I write in English, as it isn’t my first language. Unfortunately, I do not own Pedro and this is all a product of my imagination.

rating: M (keep scrolling if your under 18 please)

warnings: age gap, mature content, fem!reader, eventual drinking and drugs, a little smut but nothing crazy (yet), a bit slow burn but not really.

a/n: i’m really happy with all the comments i got on the past chapters!!! just don’t know how to answer them with this account and not my personal one :/ should they fuck already or nah? let me know

word count: 1,851

After your last encounter, Pedro was being extremely weird around you. If you could even say that, since it was very clear that he was also avoiding you. This has been going on for about 2 weeks now and it made you feel super insecure. You didn’t get why he was behaving like this. Did he regret the little moment you had in the tub? Did you do something that made him change his mind? You felt confused and, being honest, a little abandoned.

In the mornings, you went straight to the set and, at the end of it, you ran back to your cabin. You felt very lonely without his company and even though you had a crush on him, your friendship was what you’ve been missing the most. The stories, the laughs, the looks between scenes. When you had to interact because of work, he avoided your eyes and was very quiet around you. For the past couple of weeks, you didn’t do much other than hang out with Flo on the only day off you had — and even that was odd, because Pedro left a few minutes after you got to Flo’s cabin. All of this was consuming you and making you feel terrible.

You were off duty when the producer called you. They were working on positioning the lights and rehearsing, but the extra actress who was supposed to be in the scene didn’t show up. Being a budget movie being shot in the middle of nowhere in Germany, the producers had to figure it out with what they had in hand. Trying to keep the situation only between the producing and directing teams, as the scene called for a more intimate approach, they asked you to be her stunt. You knew what scene it was and you got chills thinking about it, as you walked towards the cabin they were in.

Waiting for you were the director, the cinematographer, Flo and Pedro. The only form of illumination in the room were candles strategically positioned for the shooting. The director approached you. Not much time for the ceremony, Flo put your hair down and applied some makeup on your face.

“I’m gonna need you to strip down, girl friend”, she let you know, a bit embarrassed.

You already knew about that, so you had already prepared your mind to do it. You took your clothes off, keeping on only some nude panties. Flo added some makeup on your body as well, and left the room.

“Okay, let’s roll then.”

You and Pedro laid down on the bed together. He was still wearing his clothes, only some shirt buttons opened. He was on top of you, but didn’t dare to look at your eyes. It felt like forever for them to make sure about lights and angles.

“As you know, this scene isn’t about love”, the director started. “It’s about fucking. That’s all I have to say. Action!”

You both didn’t move.

“I said, action!” He shouted.

Your body felt tense underneath his and it all felt kind of mechanical, as he put his hands on your face and started to come closer to you. Well, this is how acting is supposed to be, you thought, as you put your hands on his hair, trying to make sure you were following the director's briefing. He suddenly stopped.

“Sorry, Dave”, he said, completely ignoring you under him. “I don’t think I’m feeling it with her, she is too young, and I feel like this whole scene doesn’t add up to the movie itself.”

“Excuse me?” The director looked confused and slightly offended.

“I’m not doing it”, Pedro simply said. Dave looked infuriated. “I know I have a veto power on the contract and I’m using it.”

“That’s why I don’t work with Hollywood stars like yourself”, he said after breathing in and out very slowly. “I just wanna point out what incredible ironic is your problem with her age, giving that I’ve lost track of how many times it got to me that you two have been suspiciously close with each other.”

You saw in Pedro’s eyes the same anger as the day you went clubbing. The producer came back into the room, after hearing the voices a little louder going on inside.

“I think it’s better if we all calm down”, she said. “Look, this scene has been controversial since day one, even the studio heads thought so. Let’s leave on hold now and we can have a meeting later this week—”

“No, Donna”, Dave interrupted her. “I’m doing it with or without him.”

“Just to make myself clear, neither is she doing anything”, Pedro said pointing towards you with his head. “I’m vetoing her as well. Go get dressed, Y/N. Now.”

You did as he told.

“This situation is ridiculous at this point”, Donna looked nervous and tired. The two of them had been fighting for days over every single thing on the set. “I will take this matter to the studio, no shooting tomorrow. Everybody out of my sight."

You left the room first and you had to practically run, because it was pouring rain. After all that, you weren’t even sure you still had a job anymore and you just felt so fragile. You heard steps behind you, but you didn’t stop. Pedro called your name. He got to you once you had to stop to unlock your cabin door.

“Can we talk, baby girl?” His words made you slowly turn to face him. You both already wet from the rain.

“Don’t you fucking dare to baby girl me, you fucking asshole”, you didn’t raise your voice, but he could see the hurt in your words.

“Y/N, I couldn’t do it— this whole situation”, he tried to defend himself.

“Fuck you Pedro. Fuck you a million times”, you were a bit louder now. “Did it cross you pretty little mind that I need this fucking job? That I need people to fucking like me? Get off your ass and look around, man.”

“You are no actress, especially for a scene like that”, he said, raising his voice too.

“Why do you care? You don’t even recognize my existence anymore”, you felt like crying.

“That’s how much I care!” He ran his hand through his hair. “Do you have any idea how hard it has been for me since I met you? Being around you and saying no to every single one of my instincts demanding me to fucking make you mine? Since day one, Y/N. Since I saw you in that goddamn bathtub.”

“Who the hell asked you to do that?” You stared at his brown eyes.

“You didn’t even want people to know we were friends”, he did his best to not sound like he was blaming you. “I never know what to do around you and you don’t make my life easier with all those fucking mixed signs.”

“I fucking told you!” You come off louder than you meant. You take a tone down as you repeat yourself, “I fucking told you.”

He rubbed his eyes. “Can we go inside, please?”

You did as he asked and got you both towels. He sat on the corner of your bed.

“Look, sweetheart”, he began. You were still standing up, looking at him. “This whole thing… The age gap, it just— it won’t work out in the long run. After what happened, I truly felt bad with myself, as if I was taking advantage of you.”

“Wow, hold on a minute”, you shake your head. “Sure you are like, over 20 years older than me, I get that. But who the fuck was talking ‘bout forever? And most importantly, Pedro, I thought we fucking were friends! Why didn’t we talk about it?”

“I’m sorry—"

“I’m not done”, you interrupted him. “I’m no kid. I’m a fully grown woman who knows what she wants and I expected that after our last conversation you already knew what that was.”

You came closer to him.

“You are not manipulating me, Pedro”, you said as you got on your knees in front of him. “I want this, I want you. I fucking need you so badly.”

Your words gave him chills. You both knew that what you were craving would have a lot of implications for both of you.

“Are you sure?” He asked, his eyes sparking. “Are you sober?”

"Unfortunately, I am”, you promised. “Please, don’t make me beg.”

You didn’t have to.

Pedro finally pulled you closer for a warm, passionate kiss. He held your neck with one hand, using the other one to pet your cheek. You made sure to reciprocate the intensity, getting your tongues to touch, making the kiss deeper. Your stomach felt like it was upside down, butterflies all over the place.

"Fuck, sweetheart", he growled in the middle of the kiss, you got goosebumps all over your body. He got you up and made you sit on his lap, so his hands could run more freely through your body. "You're so fucking beautiful, you know that?"

The thought of Pedro thinking you were beautiful made you blush. He had mentioned it a couple times before, when you're hanging out together, but in a more subtle way. You let your hands wander through his neck and arms, finally being able to touch him as you’ve been wanting since you two met. A moan escaped your lips and that was the sign Pedro was waiting to push you down to the bed, getting on top of you. You loved the feeling of this warm body on yours and you could feel the heat from between your legs increasing.

All you could think about is how you wanted him all over you, touching every single possible part of your body. His smell felt inebriating, as if he was the only thing you senses could process at this moment. Time stopped making any sense and you both pulled away after a while, gasping for air. He let his body fall down next to yours and you laid on your side, turned to face each other.

"You're a good kisser", he says, switching his look from your lips to your eyes.

"You're not bad yourself", you both giggled. He let his hand rest on your waist, putting you a little closer, saying nothing for a while. "What are you thinking about?"

"Just— I guess I’m worried about you”, he said, avoiding looking in your eyes now. “Keep thinking about what Dave said, people gossiping about us.”

“Usually I do my best to not listen to what people say,” you started. “But I guess I’ve been afraid of running the career I barely started.”

“I get that and I’m sorry I can’t protect you from it, sweetheart.”, he touched your cheek with his thumb. “We’ll just keep it between ourselves.”

CHAPTER 5 AVALIABLE NOW

TAGLIST: @kyuupidwrites @omg-its-typical-aesthetics-fan @vivibabiez @ivyohmy @sebastianstansimp @tubble-wubble @28cnn @3zae-zae3 @technicallysassyfox @bellatrixyoass @mandolover86 @eliffluisa @jbcalway (does anybody know why i can’t tag some people?)

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal x reader #pedro x reader #pedro pascal smut #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 months

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The Detour 5

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Thor

Summary: You find yourself stranded in a small village.

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You leave the table almost as soon as you clear your plate. A single course is well enough to tide you over. After the day you’ve had, your fatigue is more pressing than your hunger.

You retreat up to your assigned suite and check to be sure the door is locked. You sigh as you pull sleeping clothes from your suitcase and take them into the bathroom. If you must be here, you will get what little benefit can be found.

You pour yourself another glass of wine and set it on the corner of the tub as it fills with steamy water. You ease yourself and soak in the rising depths, muscles coaxed free of tension. You shut off the faucet and recline, closing your eyes as you bask in the heat. You move only to sip from your glass, draining it as the water cools.

You get out, pruned and suitably drowsy. You pull on the satin shorts and matching camisole and slip into the fluffy linens on the bed. You moan as you sink beneath the down and the hazy night closes in on you, head foggy with the aid of wine. Just one night and you’ll be rid of this forsaken village.

Your sleep is uninterrupted as the alcohol seeps from your veins. You wake, with the shadow of a headache and a gurgle in your stomach. You get up to pluck a bottle of water from the small fridge and scroll through your phone. You have no signal.

You set up the single brew machine for a coffee and as you wait for your fare, you use the room phone to dial the mechanics number. It takes several attempts to get an answer. You are already agitated and painfully more awake by the minutes.

You give your name before you begin, “I’m calling to check on my car.”

“Ah, yes, hm,” he replies buoyantly, “miss, it is bad news–”

“Bad news? Can’t you just patch it so I can drive to the next city? Please, I’m certain they will have the part there–”

“Can’t be patched,” he says plainly, “you wouldn’t make it up the first hill.”

“Well, then, why don’t you drive into the city and retrieve the part I need? That sounds like a solution. I’ll pay for your gas–”

“Miss, I’ve called to all the shops in the county, they don’t have the right axel. It’s being shipped–”

“Shipped?!” The exclamation reverberates in your skull, “shipped? How long will that take?”

“Er, best case, two to three days, worst, a week–”

“A week? That’s the last of my vacation,” you cry, “it isn’t fair! It simply must be fixed–”

“I’m sorry, miss, it’s bad luck,” he drawls.

“Bad luck? Bad luck!?” Before you can explode, you stop yourself and slam the phone down. You do so several times before letting the receiver rest in the cradle. Blast this place!

You forget the coffee waiting for you and tear open your suitcase. You furiously go through your entire routine; makeup, clothes, hair. You might be stuck in this backwoods but you won’t let it rub off on you. You slip into a pair of heels and storm out with the room card clutched in your fist.

You nearly tumble down the staircase and grab onto the banister to keep yourself upright. You stomp, with echoing clicks, across the lobby to the front desk. You cross your arms against the edge as… Dana? Smiles back at you.

“I must speak with your manager.”

“My manager?” She tilts her head, “I… you mean Thor?”

“Whoever is in charge, I don’t care,” you insist, “it is urgent.”

“Um, sure, I’ll just radio him,” she chirps. You turn away before your agitation gets the best of you. Her chipper demeanour, her curved lips, you could claw her damn dumb eyes out. You hear a crackles as she speaks into a hand radio, “Thor, when you have a moment, can you pop up to the front?”

There’s a pause before she gets a response, “certainly, sweetheart, you got something special for me?”

She giggles and the radio beeps again, “Thor, it’s a guest issue.”

You shake your head and pace around the airy space. You wouldn’t call it hideous. It’s antiquated but refined. The plinthed vases, the statues better suited to a romanticist aesthetic, and the intermingled runic markings clash yet not egregiously so.

“Ah, I knew it would be you, lady,” Thor boisterously bounces in from behind the staircase, “have you a chance to try our continental?”

“I am not here to talk about burnt bacon,” you chide as you face him. He approaches, stopping a bit too close for comfort.

“Alright, your wish is my command, what is it now?” He crosses his arms and you mirror him, raising your chin defiantly.

“You are going to drive me to the city. Now.”

“Me?” He scoffs, “and why would I do that?”

“I have money. I will pay for your gas and even a gratuity for your time. I’m certain you haven’t anything too important calling for you here–”

“Can’t,” he rejects you simply.

“Can’t?” You repeat, “you must.”

“I run a hotel, I’m not a valet,” he shrugs and drops his arms.

“You–” you stop your true thoughts from spilling out, “Why not?”

“Well,” he raises a thick finger, “I do have obligations here.”

“Oh, sure, you must,” you peer around at the empty lobby.

“A party. It’s my birthday,” he announces proudly, “so I can’t just up and drive to the city. I have things to do. But, since you’re stuck here, you’re welcome to attend–”

“A party? Aren’t you a bit old?”

“Never too old for fun,” he counters, “let your hair down, there’ll be lots of wine… and me.”

“I’d rather drown myself,” you hiss.

He booms with laughter and claps his hands, “oh, you are… delightful. Now, as much as I enjoy our banter, I do have a long list to get through. As it is, invitation stands. We could even make a game of, see who might dislodge the iron rod from your ass.”

Your hand flies out before you can think. You very nearly miss for how tall he is but your palm strikes his cheek hotly, the strike tingly in your palm as you rescind your arm. You stomp your heel down and snarl.

“How dare you, sir!”

He blinks and slowly brings his fingertips to his pinkened cheek. His brows lower and his blue eyes glow, the smile falling from his lips.

“You don’t speak to a lady like that,” you snip.

“If I see a lady, I’ll try to remember,” he retorts.

You scoff, several times. Your nostrils flare as you jut out your chin, “you are a beast.”

His face creases again as his grin slowly blooms. He winks, “oh, I certainly can be,” he growls.

You shake your head and twist on your heel, strutting away as you ball up your hands. You cannot believe him. Absolutely abhorrent.

“If you didn’t want me to notice your ass,” he calls after you, “you wouldn’t wag it around like a bitch in heat.”

You gasp as you stop at the bottom of the staircase. You glare back at him as he chuckles. You’re speechless. You’ve never been spoken to so grossly.

“Charming,” you sneer and turn yourself straight.

You don’t deserve this. You shouldn’t be stranded in this bodunk hole. You should be in the city, at the museum, at brunch! You surely shouldn’t be accosted by this animal who calls himself a man.

#thor #dark thor #dark!thor #thor x reader #drabble #au #backwoods au #series #the detour #avengers #mcu #marvel

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damedechance · 3 months

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𝖈𝖗𝖔𝖜 𝖘𝖔𝖓𝖌 (pt 5/10)

𓇢𓆸 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑 𝑜𝑛 𝑎𝑜3 || 𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑛 𝑡𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑦𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡

Pairing: Gwynriel Status: Ch 5/10 (Read from Pt 1) Rated: E (Explicit) Summary: Three years ago, Gwyneth Berdara became the ward of the Night Institute, a band of hunters led by Rhysand who work to rid the world of vampires. After one fateful night where Gwyn unwittingly welcomes one such creature into their home, she strikes a deal with Azriel, one that is just as likely to condemn them as it is to save them.

𓇢𓆸 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑 𝑏𝑒𝑙𝑜𝑤 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑏𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑓 𝑠𝑛𝑖𝑝𝑝𝑒𝑡

“Miss Berdara.”

His voice has waned to all but a meager thread, unspooling in the humid air. She hears it, thin as it is, and does not turn to acknowledge him.

“The others are due back from the gala any moment,” Gwyn murmurs to herself, preoccupied by readjusting the towels as they threaten to slip out from where they are pinched between her elbow and hip. In front of her, Gwyn’s reflection in the fogged over mirror is just as vague and indistinct as her own thoughts. Formless.

With the towels newly secured under her arm, Gwyn whirls away from the sink. She passes Azriel again, and perhaps she is moving more quickly this time, because he steps back, leaning away to avoid any incidental touch. Nostrils flaring and eyes eclipsed by shadow–one look at him, and guilt is clawing its way through her insides before she can grab hold of it and shove it back down. She grits her teeth, and points her gaze to the ground.

The towels tumble to the floor beside the tub once she releases them, and then Gwyn whips around again. A hand is already outstretched to pull the fabric of Azriel’s shirt into a fist, and drags him towards her. Tension seizes Azriel’s shoulders, as she begins untucking the front of his shirt from his trousers.

“What are you doing?” he rasps, going to catch her by the wrist before suddenly he stops, hands hovering uncertain in the air.

“We need to hurry. Get rid of everything,” Gwyn rushes out, as she begins to tear at the buttons of his shirt. They keep slipping out from beneath her fingers, slick from the bathwater. “Before they return.”

“What is the point?”

Gwyn’s hand suddenly jerks, splitting open the front of Azriel’s shirt at once and sending buttons ricocheting off the walls. The claws inside her have twisted, carving out from her insides a well filled only by rage and provocation. Guilt has been consumed by the furnace of it, and when she moves to part the halves of Azriel’s shirt back from his torso, her fingernails leave long, red lines over his skin.

He doesn’t so much as blink, as she peels his blood soaked shirt away from his chest, where blood and steam have beaded over his bare skin. He only watches, passively allowing her to shove the shirt down over his shoulders, one side at a time, and lowers his hands back to his sides. The shirt lands on the floor behind him, and Gwyn immediately moves for his belt.

Azriel’s hand snaps to her wrist at once, fingers curving around it so tightly, she is compelled to stop. The stillness he possesses is so shocking, solid as stone, that she is forced to notice her own trembling. Her entire body is wracked by the tremors, and now that she’s acknowledged it, she cannot seem to make them stop.

Chest heaving, torn between either rage or misery, Gwyn looks up at him. Whatever he finds there in her face, it appears to break through his impassivity. The corners of his mouth turn down, and something in his face softens. He presses forward, backing her up against the wall.

She gasps once her shoulders hit the cool tile behind her, and the sound rattles out from somewhere within her ribcage. He forces her arm up across her chest, so that her fingertips press against the erratic thrumming of her heart, and his knuckles brush over the lace neckline of her dress.

Somewhere, the faucet has stopped dripping, but the air settles thick over their skin.

“Gwyneth.”

Impossible, really, that such profound remorse can be contained within the two syllables of her name alone. She resents it.

˖⁺‧₊˚⸸˚₊‧⁺˖

#gwynriel #azriel #gwyneth berdara #acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic #azriel shadowsinger #gwyn berdara #vampire au #gwynriel fanfic

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yellowflowerbub · 1 year

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bathtime (together)

♡ Feb. 10th ♡

♡ Day 1 of 5 ♡

꒷︶ ̇ ̟ ෆ ‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿ ෆ ̟ ̇ ︶꒷

summary. you decide to prepare a surprise for Aki when he comes back from work on valentines day

wordcount. 1.3k+

pairing(s). aki hayakawa x reader

tag(s). fluff, teasing, bathing together, pet names (my love, dear), gender neutral, cheesy

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Water is pushed into the tub’s side, it dramatically thrashes against itself before leveling out into miniature waves as the stray droplets that were flung into the air mush together with the rest. Bubbles begin to float over top of the water as the sweetly scented solution is progressively poured. They greedily stack upon each other, building from the water level and up, consuming the surrounding until where the bubbles began and water ended seemed nebulous. They shimmer by the reflection of soft candle light and a tablet positioned on the tub’s wide rim.

A music streaming application is open, pop-ups of different playlists invade the screen before being absentmindedly closed as your shaky fingers feverishly scour your account for the ‘Bathtime with Aki’ playlist. It seems as though it was purposefully hidden, concealed by a multitude of advertisements and song suggestions you never paid more than a second thought to.

“Dear?” You hear. The distant call is muffled by the rushing, running water and a closed bathroom door. You scramble to turn the water off so as to not alert him. He’s on time of course, but per usual you failed to be ready.

Even more anxious, your eyes can barely keep up with how quickly the many playlists whizz past. “What was that? Was the water running?”

You curse his good ears and continue to search, “Yes, I was just,” you pause, “...washing something off.”

“Alright.”

At taxing times like these you’re thankful of how much of his trust he confides in you.

You gasp as you spot his name and click it, rapidly turning up the volume while it loads. Through a small speaker on top of the bathroom counter plays the melody of the first song, the funky bass filled with emotions you’ve only touched upon with Aki echo throughout every inch of the bathroom. The sound sneaks under the crack between the bathroom’s door and the cold tile to the silence of the rest of the apartment. The hum of the first few chords of what you believe to be a piano makes a smile creep up your lips. You’re sure he’s heard the song.

By the time the artist begins singing the lyrics to the first verse a soft knock is heard on the door’s wood, you can barely hear it over how loud the speaker plays. “Yes? Who’s there?”

“Who else would it be?”

“I dunno? Maybe my boyfriend?”

“Really? And here I am thinkin’ you’re single.”

You giggle, “Wanna come in?”

As the door knob twists and the bathroom door is opened by a crack, the incoming chorus you felt approaching hit. Every little note incorporated into the production from tic to tune fuse within each other to create a symphony your ears are happy to hear. You sing under your breath and let the bubbles in the bath come over your shoulders as you melt into the almost hot water, your arms float by your sides, your feet by one another, and your back pressed to the side of your bathtub.

“Come in, don’t be shy.”

He hesitantly slides into the bathroom, the full suit he wore feeling a bit uncomfortable now that he was surrounded by a warmer air and steam with the door shut behind him.

“What’s all this?”

You smile, “Have you checked what day it is?”

His brows furrow, he actually has not. He pulls back his cuffed sleeve to reveal a chunky metal watch worn around his wrist. You’d got him that watch for his birthday the year prior as a surprise and he had put it on immediately after he tore it from its packaging. Since then, you’ve never seen him without it.

“It’s Tuesday?” Still bewildered by the scenery, he thinks to himself for a quick moment before it comes to him.

“Valentine's Day?”

“Ding ding ding!”

He swears to himself it’s from the scented candles but his face burns, “You’re so corny.”

“You love it.”

For a moment, he seems to remember how naked you were. He’s seen you naked more times than he could probably recall but it never failed to restart his heart as if it were his first moment he laid his pretty sapphire eyes on you.

“If you get in I might let you touch instead of just stare.”

“I’ll take you up on that offer.”

He wastes no time riding his suit coat from his torso, his nimble fingers spend no more than a second undoing each obsidian button. He shrugs the thing off his shoulders, half heartedly folding it to toss on the floor. His suspenders and pearl white button up are next, meeting the same fate as the overcoat.

“You think I can even fit in there with you?”

You fan him, “I’m sure you can.”

“I’m 6’2, my love.” He chuckles, you can see his bare shoulders jump when he laughs and catch a glimpse of the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes before he turns away from you to continue to strip.

“Why’re you turning around? I’ve seen everything you’ve got.”

“You whistle at me like a piece of meat when I take my pants off.”

Fair enough.

Aki, now fully naked, dips his foot into the water to test its temperature. Chills crawl up his calf from the stark difference and each hair stands on end. He shudders through his teeth as both of his legs slide on either side of your hips.

You’re faintly frightened of the bath overflowing, its edge rising as steadily as Aki let his body sink into the water. The bath looks to be on the brink of spilling over onto the tile by the time he's waist deep.

His body melts into yours just as well as the water, the damp skin over his chest molds with your back like wax on top of a burning candle seeping from its edge. He’s as warm as the water surrounding your bodies, his ribs press hard into you and his heart beats through it, it rests at the closest it can to you. The rhythm of his pumping heart beats stridently in not only his ears, but yours as well.

“Your heart’s beating really quick. You ok?” You inquire.

He’s quick to answer, “Of course I am. I’m just.. amazed on how nice this is. You did a outstanding job with all of it.”

“Thank you,” you stifle a laugh, “I didn’t get all of what I wanted in here. Like, I thought rose petals would fit the mood I’ve got going but I didn’t get the chance to place them. They're actually still in our room.”

“I love it either way.” His voice is low, whisper volume as his chin rests on your open shoulder, his nose dipped in the side of your neck. Always so thoughtful. For the most part.

You do laugh this time, “You’d say that no matter what I do.”

He felt his smile lift, “Think of this whole thing as a ballroom. You’ve prepared every piece but forgot some food courses, and some appetizers, and some chairs but there is still a dancefloor and a chandelier overhead everyone adores.”

“Your point here?”

“A hall wouldn’t be complete without its chandelier. And that’s what you are, my love. My gorgeous chandelier.” His lips come down to softly kiss your shoulder, “So no matter what you prepared for me, I will be completely overjoyed because you prepared it and you are here to do whatever it is with me.”

The song, you'd completely forgotten you turned on in the first place, comes to a slow conclusion. The symphony of instruments fade into the silence and splashes of water and the last thing heard before it completely makes it's exits is the lead singer's high note, blending with it all.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

a/n: i'm so proud of that last piece of dialogue that i’m ending the fic here the song was "out of touch" if you were wondering

Feedback and Reblogs are Appreciated!!

#chainsaw man x reader #aki x reader #aki x y/n #aki x you #aki x gender neutral reader #aki hayakawa x you #aki hayakawa x y/n #aki hayakawa x reader #poc friendly

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mojaves · 3 months

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tagged by @hibernationsuit thank youuu!!!!

rules: post 5 songs associated with your oc, followed by 3 outfits they would wear

tagging @quickhacked @dickytwister @velocitic @vvanessaives and anyone else who wants to do this [:

im doing this for andy my oc andy. he contains multitudes.

songs

this is love - air traffic control

this one is very fun to start with because when he worked at arasaka, he was an extremely manipulative asshole - had to be in order to get the job done. while he Was putting up a front, at first, as time went on the line eventually blurred so much to the point where he could no longer tell where the act ended, and where the real him began. he became far too cocky and overconfident. but it's a very tasty sort of whimsy.

achilles come down - gang of youths

heavy contrast with the last song because this one!!! is like, the part of the story after he's lost Everything. he's on the run from arasaka. a good chunk of his family is Dead. yeah he escaped it all but now there's nothing left to keep him busy. he's just entirely consumed by grief now, over what happened, over everything he's done with the last two decades of his life. he's NOT having a good time!!! he does Not feel deserving at all of the company he has.

dying in a hot tub - palaye royale

similar to the last one. basically the same thoughts but this is just the slightly more fun version [: he is very depressed for a while <3 but it could also be taken as him kind of sort of clawing his way out of it?? in my own humble opinion.

first day of my life - bright eyes

post depression slump. finally starts dating not one!! but TWO of the people he's been in kind of in love with for a Very Long Time but life and everything got in the way. "im glad i didn't die before i met you." thats all i have to say on the matter.

brother - murder by death

has two brothers, one he hasnt seen in roughly 20 years, another whose death he is partly responsible for. "i know theres better brothers but you're the only one thats mine." yknow. heugh.

outfits

not very interesting i'll be So honest. likes to stick to blacks and greys mostly, theyre just what he's more comfortable in,,, cuffed trousers/jeans,, lots of jumpers and long coats. fashionable but also practical AND comfortable. and he looks very good in it [:

#oc andrew #THANK YOU FOR THE TAG RED THIS WAS VERY FUN [:#if the links for the songs are wrong i am sorry in advance but i am a little bit stupid

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uyuiuyui2 · 9 months

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15 tiips to avoid the Freshman 15 (and the rest of your college weight gain)

Hello, future college students of America. First off, you’re annoying and I hate you. You’re about to be thrust into the blissfully independent lifestyle of the American college student. Of course, there’s a kicker when it comes to the most fun 4-6 years of your life, the dreaded Freshman 15 (followed for some of us by the Sophomore 10, the Junior 17, and the whopping Senior 25) . It’s damn near impossible to avoid, between late night pizza places on every corner, and the obscene quantities of alcohol you’ll consume. You’re probably about to blow up like Betty Francis did in the last season of Mad Men. As a survivor of the Freshman 15, here are some simple things you can do to try to avoid packing on the pounds like I did.

1. Think about the fact that if you get fat as shit then you no longer get to have sex with hot people. That’s not to say that you won’t hook up anymore, but the quality of your sexual partners will likely dip with every pound you put on. Hot people only have sex with other hot people. That’s just as constant a law as gravity. Pretty sure Newton wrote about it.

2. Your five-minute walk to class does not constitute exercise, and that walk will get a little harder with every roll your stomach gains. Hit the gym every once in a while. Losing weight is absurdly easy in your late teens and early 20s. Try to build that habit now, otherwise you’ll end up the fat guy in his thirties huffing and puffing on a treadmill and sweating up a storm.

3. If you’re eating after 10pm and you’re not drunk, you’ll have no one to blame but yourself when you can’t fit into any of your clothes at Christmas break.

4. Get in a shit ton of trouble. You’ll have run a marathon’s worth of distance from the cops in no time at all. Burns calories, and gives you great stories to tell over lunch.

5. Picture the disgust on people’s faces when you take your shirt off on Spring Break. Hell, picture the looks on your frat brothers’ faces when you take your shirt off to chug one more beer at the tailgate - trust me on this, they’re laughing at you, not with you.

6. None of your future pledges will be able to take you seriously as a hard ass if you’re a fat ass. There’s a difference between “intimidating power gut” and just being a tub of lard.

7. Mix in a salad or soup every once in a while. Stay away from the regular lunch buffet every now and then. If you eat the garbage that your house chef or dining hall cook puts out on the buffet every night, you’re going to put on some serious pounds.

8. Everyone is gaining weight, so it’s easy to get caught up in the “everyone’s doing it” excuse. Bullshit. Yeah, everyone’s gaining weight, but that’s no excuse to make a second trip to the fro-yo machine. Also, frozen yogurt is not healthier than ice cream, especially when you load absurd amounts of chocolate and candy on top, idiots.

9. Walk everywhere. Walk to the bars, walk to class, walk to your hookup buddy’s house at 3am. Ideally you’ll be too drunk to drive anywhere safely anyway.

10. Watch an episode of The Biggest Loser before every meal. Imagine someone filming you eating the meal you’re about to eat in slow motion with sad piano music in the background. Opt for some fruit or something not deep fried instead of a heaping pile of fries.

11. Eat with members of the opposite sex. Your grody frat bros are likely to cheer you on and encourage you to slam a fifth slice of pepperoni pizza dripping with grease, but the co-eds from Kappa Delta will make it clear that they’re judging you. In a perfect world, power-eating would be a potent aphrodisiac, but it isn’t. It’s just gross.

12. Don’t eat when you’re stressed out. Head to the gym or go on a quick run to release powerful endorphins that will make you feel good. It’s science. Check it out.

13. Imagine that first piece of XL clothing you’ll have to buy. S-L are normal-sized person clothes and you’re about to enter the world of Big & Tall. If you need extra motivation, walk through a Big and Tall store and take note of the guys who shop there - without some serious willpower, you’ll end up just like them in no time. That’s embarrassing.

14. Try a high fiber diet - processed foods are the cheapest and quickest way to widen your waistline. Fiber is scientifically proven to keep you feeling fuller longer so you won’t keep reaching your fat stubby fingers into the potato chip bag.

15. Do tons of drugs and never sleep.

Look, the Freshman 15 is almost completely unavoidable, and obviously I’m kidding about several of these tips. You’re going to gain weight, no matter what. There’s food and booze at your beck and call at all hours of the day, no parents to tell you “no” and plenty of peer pressure. That said, you get those 15 pounds. That’s the house money given to you when you walk in the door. After that, you’re on the hook for becoming a disgusting human being. In reality, if you work out three or four days a week and watch what you eat every couple of days, you should be fine.

Of course, we all received this good advice when we were in your shoes. It’s more than likely that you’ll disregard the sage wisdom from your elders the same way I did - you’ll think it won’t happen to you, that you couldn’t possibly end up with a big fat beer gut, tits bigger than your first girlfriend’s and jowls that jiggle when you laugh. We’ll be there to clap you on the back and order your first round when you belly up to the bar with us - after all, when was the last time you saw a skinny alum on campus?

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backtothefanfiction · 9 months

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The Angel In The Garden of Evil | Chapter 1 : The Call of a Night Bird

Summary: Peter Parker's wife left him 3 years ago. Suddenly she's back and she's brought some news that is about to change everything, unfortunately that news comes with its own set of complications and he's out for blood.

Warning: 18+ Only, mature themes, eventual smut, weapons, angst, lots of emotional tension

Word Count: 2.1k

A/N: Hello, welcome, I am so excited to be sharing this story. It has consumed me for the last week resulting in me so far having written a total of almost 20,000! words, including the Prologue which you can find here. As mentioned in the others note for the prologue and in subsequent posts lately, I have come to adore Mob!Au Peter Parker stories after finding the wonderful @liz-allyn's Sugar + Vice series and even more recently @p3mybeloved one shots based on the lyrics of Florence and the Machine's Rabbit Heart (Raise It Up). If you haven't read either and you enjoy this fic and want more like it I would highly recommend checking them out. Anyway this is the first part of a 2 chapter drop, but after that you can expect weekly chapter releases every Friday. Now, without further ado, I hope you enjoy, this is The Angel In The Garden of Evil.

ONE

Peter Parker was nonchalant about journeys home, it was simply routine at this point in his life. Although he had other properties in the city and even around the world, this was his only true safe space. A large mansion on the outskirts of the city. 7 bedrooms, 5 bathrooms and an open living and kitchen space that covered the whole of the back half of the downstairs of the house. With a swimming pool, hot tub and basketball court all in the backyard and a view of the Hudson to die for, anyone would mistake it for paradise on earth.

Once upon a time, he’d get excited about coming home, the smell of dinner being cooked wafting around the house, music permeating the whole of the downstairs, windows lit, guiding his way up the large driveway as his driver pulled in through the gates. But that was then. That was before.

Sure coming home was still his safe place. The place he could mostly let his guard down when work wasn’t being brought home, but it was quieter now. It was darker now. He had to switch the lights on himself. Instead of sitting down at the dinner table, a meal prepared and laid out for him, he now fixed himself a drink from the bar cart, sat at that same dining room table and drank alone. Day in, day out, that same routine ever since she left. His Angel.

Everything had been harder since she left. Work was harder. Getting up and living was harder. Suddenly he had to factor in extra costs she had been taking care of; weekly shopping, the cleaner, the gardener. Heck he had even paid out for a storage facility to hold all her things. He had the whole house redecorated because everything reminded him of her. She was his everything, they were going to rule the whole city together. But now it’s just him.

He reached forward for the small drinks tray in the car, pouring himself a finger of whiskey from the decanter. He unbuttoned the top buttons of his shirt and ruffled up his hair as he slumped back into his seat in the back of the car, his head leaning back against the headrest.

“Everything okay back there boss?” Miguel asked from the driver's seat.

“Hmm, yeah.” Peter sighed as he forced himself to make eye contact with his driver through the rear view mirror.

“It’s her again isn’t it.”

Peter said nothing.

“You know boss, I knew she’d be nothing but trouble when-“ Miguel began to berate as he pulled up to the main gate, waiting for it to slide open with their arrival, but Peter’s demeanour suddenly changed, a frown pulling at his brow as he suddenly looked past the reflection of his driver and out the front window of the car. There were lights on in the house.

Peter’s hand slowly began to run along the carpeted roof of the car, his fingers pushing on a particular spot that revealed a compartment that concealed an emergency gun. His fingers tentatively closed around the handle as he brought it down, his senses continuing to assess the situation as Miguel drove slowly up to the house, careful to make as little noise on the gravel pathway as possible.

As they grew closer, Peter’s tension only grew as they realised the front door had been left open. The car had barely stopped when both men tentatively got out of the car, their doors left open in front of them as they each raised their pieces, scouting for danger. Peter motioned for Miguel to watch his back as he slowly edged his way around the car, the placements of his feet careful and quiet. As he got closer to the door he could hear music echoing down the hallway.

His feet stepped gingerly through the foyer as he followed the sound.

“Well, then suddenly there was no one Left standing in the hall, yeah, yeah In a flood of tears That no one really ever heard fall at all”

All the way down the hall nothing seemed a miss. Everything was still tidy. No one had broken in to ransack the place and he was definitely sure if they had they wouldn’t be blasting Stevie Nicks in the kitchen whilst they did it. He held a hand up towards Miguel who had slowly been following behind him. He could hear the sound of oil sizzling in a pan and then-

“Well I went searching for an answer, up the stairs and down the hall, and not to find an answer, just to hear the call of a night bird…”

He’d know that voice anywhere. Her voice. Angel.

It had been so long, almost like a charm that disarmed him, he began to lower his weapon, his stance relaxing. He quietly motioned his hand for Miguel to leave and they both shared a silent nod of understanding. Peter took in a deep breath as he confidently strolled through the doorway into the kitchen.

She had her back to him as she danced across the tiled floor, lost in the music as she cooked. It was just like before- but it wasn’t. She had left. He had erased her entire existence from his life.

He put the safety back on his gun and dropped it forcefully on top of the large kitchen island. He expected the sudden noise, the announcement of his presence, to at least shake her, startle her in some way, but she didn’t so much as flinch.

“Honey, I’m home.” He further announced himself.

She finally turned to face him. A part of him couldn’t help but melt when she turned, wooden spoon held aloft, mid-air, as she turned and smiled at him.

“I’m just adding a few more bits and it’ll be ready.” She beamed, her voice calling to him over the music and the sizzle of the vegetables in the pan like nothing was wrong. Like she hadn’t been gone for three years.

He rolled his eyes as she turned her back to him again, continuing to sing the last chorus of the song as she cooked. He raised his hands, confused, exasperated, unsure of what to do with himself. He ultimately found his feet already carrying himself to the bar cart, his usual routine kicking in. Was it his usual routine though or the sudden need for a strong drink to help get him through this inevitable conversation.

“I see you’ve redecorated.” she chirped.

He didn’t respond, leaving a long pause as he poured his drink.

“Darling, how did you get in?” He instead said, changing the subject as he took his usual seat at the table.

“The front door.” She innocently responds. “By the way,” she adds, turning to face him with both frying pan and wooden spoon in hand, as she continues to stir, “my birthday Peter really? You couldn’t come up with a more original security code?”

“In my defence Princess, I wasn’t expecting you to come home.” he said, his lips pulling tight.

She pursed her lips, raising her eyebrows in defeat and giving a small nod as she turned back to the stove.

He watched her from his spot at the head of the table as he sipped on his drink, his fingers drumming on the seat of his chair between his legs as he spread out, trying to look confident in his own home. He couldn’t help but let his eyes roam over her form as she turned off the knobs to the hob and the oven.

He felt a small sense of pride when she went to the cupboard to find the plates, only to realise he’d also replaced and moved those too.

“You moved the plates.” She sighs, her fingers drumming on the wooden cabinet as she took in a deep breath. When he didn’t immediately respond she turned her head to stick him with her piercing gaze.

“They’re this side on the left.” He finally said, pointing towards where the cabinet would be on the other side of the island to him.

“Thank you.” She curtly replied as she moved across the kitchen to retrieve them.

She serves up the dinner, switching off the extractor fan, suddenly plunging them both into silence as she carries the two plates of food over to the table.

Their eye contact is tense as she places the plate of food in front of him, so much needing to be said. Things that should have been said before. Things they’d both wanted to say since.

They continued to dance around each other in silence, cutlery scraping against plates as they ate. Peter didn’t want to admit it, but he’d really missed her cooking. He’d missed her altogether- but he knew he couldn’t get too attached. He didn’t even know why she was here in the first place, let alone how long it was for.

He let his eyes gaze along the long table towards where she sat up the other end and only then was it that he noticed the large envelope on the table. He stared at it, frozen, his hands resting his cutlery either side of his plate, his food now forgotten.

“Princess, whatever you do, don’t tell me those are divor-“

“Peter, my father's dead.” She blurted out. Her hands were now in her lap as she looked absentmindedly at a spot on the table.

“What?” Peter said tentatively in shock as he waited for her to look at him.

She looked around the room for a moment before she said it again, still not able to lock eyes with him. “My fathers dead.” He watched as she suddenly steeled herself. She pushed her chair back from the table, pushing herself to a stand with the arms of the chair. Her heels clacked across the floor as her fingers ran along the wood until they found the envelope that lay in the middle of the table between them. Peter leaned back in his seat to look up at her as she moved closer, her hip leaning against the table top as she handed the envelope to him.

Peter tentatively opened the envelope, his fingers reaching for the paper inside.

“It’s his will.” She said as his fingers pulled the paper from its sheath and began to scan the text on the paper. She watched as he began to flip through the pages until he was on the last one as he froze. “He left you everything.” She said out loud, confirming what he was reading.

He looked up at her in shock. “But, I don’t understand.” He said as he began to reread the final page to be sure. “He hated me.” He said as he looked up at her again. “That’s why-” Peter couldn’t say it. That’s why she had left.

Her Father had made her leave. He was his rival, she had run off and married the enemy and he had made her leave. Forced her onto a plane and took her who knows where. Well Peter knew where. Northern Italy. He had had Eddie go looking for her the moment he’d gotten home and found her gone. Their room ransacked, suitcases missing.

“Why would he leave me everything?”

“Because he couldn’t outright leave it to me.” She said.

She wasn’t bitter. She was calm, confident, aware that now she was back by her husband's side. The only place she’d really wanted to be. Her fair, just husband, who, although called her Princess, had always treated her like his Queen.

“Baby, how did he die?” Peter asked as he rose from his seat to stand in front of her. His head hung low, his forehead almost touching hers. It was the closest he could allow himself to be to her right now.

Her eyes gazed up into his and he watched as her expression changed. A fear grew in her eyes in a way he had never seen before. Even when he had first met her on the edge of 17, when his whole empire wasn’t even a dream. When she was still afraid of her Father and his job, even then he hadn’t seen this kind of fear in her eyes.

“He couldn’t let him have it.” Her voice was small, timid as tears began to well in her eyes.

“Who? He couldn’t let who have it?”

He was patient as he waited for her to find her voice, to bypass all of the painful memories that seemed to be flooding her.

“They call him the Vulture.”

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

New chapters will drop every Friday, but it's okay, you don't have to wait for chapter 2, this is a double drop and it's already waiting for you right here!

If you want to be added to the tag list be sure to let me know in writing or re-blogging this post. All of these initial tags come from the likes on my original teaser, as well as the prologue and those who re-blogged that post and asked to be tagged. (I will not be adding on tags from likes alone from her on out, so if you want the tag you have got to ask for it.)

@scmdsblog @angiexsv @thef1nalgirl @did-someone-change-my-name @sincericida @tarzinnia @liz-allyn @blacksoul09 @humxncrxvings @sunnycolors @suicide-sweetheart636 @ahryi @ms-wild-card-56

(If you liked the prologue or teaser post but haven't been tagged, it's because for some reason I could't, maybe check your settings and be sure to hit the follow button so you don't miss out.

#peter parker x reader #peter parker #andrew!peter x reader #Peter Parker imagine #Peter Parker x reader #mob!Peter parker #Andrew!Peter x reader #reader insert #no use of y/n #spiderman #fan fiction #mob!au #Mob!spiderman #tasm!peter parker #tasm peter parker x reader #the angel in the garden of evil #chapter 1 #mob story

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dre6ming · 2 years

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I wish to see the fatal flaw

“I stayed there” series~ part VI

Masterlist

𓆩Part V𓆪

𓆩Part VII𓆪

To be added to the tag list click here

Pairing: Austin Butler x fem reader

Warnings: mature language, alcohol, cursing, sexual descriptions, fluff, angst…. Hope that’s all

Plot: you and your mom have never been on the same page, Austin being no different. What happens when he calls you drunk and you go to his rescue?

Word count: 4800

I wake up at the sound of my phone ringing. Angry I turn on my side and reach for the culprit of my unwanted wake up. Without looking at the caller I put the phone up to my ear. "What?" I ask in the most annoyed and sleep laced tone. "Don't what me, miss! I'm on my way, to your place, I'll be there in five." My moms voice has the same effect as having a tub of ice water dumped on your head. "Yes, yeah, sorry." The line goes silent before I get another word out.

Putting the phone down I look around for the first time. I'm not in my room. Fuck me. I'm still in the tent from last night. I feel asleep here. Fuck. I feel tears prick my eyes. I frantically search for my car keys. "(Y/n)?" I huff angry, not at him, at her, but still. "Not now Austin!" Finding my keys, I get out and make a run for it. Why does it seem like all I do lately is run or cry?. "Hey (y/n)!" I can hear Austin calling out for me, but I can't stop, my fucking mom is on her way to my apartment. My apartment where I was supposed to sleep, but I didn't sleep there, I slept here, with a boy, with Austin. I know I'm 26, but my mom still has a hold of iron on me. I think if she could she would glue herself to my hip. Best thing about Boston? She couldn't just spawn like this.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. I try to drive fast, but still safe. My phone starts ringing again, i glance at it to see that it's not my mom and I just keep driving. Somehow I make it to my apartment and up the stairs before my mom. Bursting through the door, I find Betty in the kitchen drinking coffee. "Wow, slow down Sonyc!" I rush into the bathroom, wash my face and teeth at lightning speed. Running a brush through my hair, I put it up in pony.

Betty hands me a cup o coffee as I get in the kitchen. Her eyes scan me. "My mom called, she'll be here in 5, not a word about Austin." Just as I finish to say that, my mom comes in through the door, without even knocking. "Morning mom!" I try to put on the best smile, but she's unfazed. Always a sweet lady mom. Always. I sigh and drink some of my coffee, praying she doesn't see that I just got here, moments before her.

"(Y/n)?" I freeze, she knows, fuck, how does she know? Shit, shit. "Yes mom?" I try to keep calm, maybe she hasn't figured out my act quite yet. "Is that a stain on your shirt?" I look down and yes that is, in fact, a stain on my shirt. "I'll go change." I say and move to my room. Grabbing a new shirt and returning to the kitchen, I find mom and Betty in a very uncomfortable silence. "Ok mom lets go." I say, grabbing my bag.

"Is that a cat?" She says looking at Boots before I get the chance to leave. "Yes mom." I say, I hate that she thinks it's her right to say whether or not I can have a cat. "Is it yours?" I shake my head and open the door. I hear her following me and I know she's packing her rage for the car ride. Getting in her car, I put the seatbelt on and wait for her to scold me. But she doesn't, she's silent. And she keeps on being silent for the remainder of the day. We do some shopping, mostly new things I might need as new resident at the hospital. Then we have some lunch, again a very silent and awkward lunch. If she doesn't speak to me soon, anxiety might kill me.

On the drive back to my place, she finally decides to speak, turning the radio off. "Is that girl going to be staying at your house for long? I hope not, you are no longer in college and you need to be focused as ever. And the cat, I hope it goes with the girl, that thing will only be time consuming and dirty. Am I understood?" She keeps her eyes straight ahead, but her voice is strong. "Mom that cat is mine and it leaves in my house. Betty won't stay longer than a few days"

The bitter laughter my mom lets out has me shaking in my seat. "Your house? That was my and your father's money, not yours." I want to scream, but I can't so I just bite my tongue. I can taste blood in my mouth and that kinda brings me to stop biting so hard, but the pain keeps me grounded. "I expect you do as I say if you want to be great! Go now, I have to start my shift at the hospital soon!" Oh yeah, did I tell you my mom is also a doctor? Did I tell you she's one of the best oncologist in LA? I don't think I did, because it doesn't change a thing about how mean she is with me. "Bye mom!" I take my bag and go, tears already falling down my face.

When I get home Betty isn't there, she left a note on the fridge saying she's out with an old family friend. As much as I love her, I'm thankful she doesn't have to see me have a breakdown because of my mom. The phone rings and I ignore it, but it keeps ringing. I answer the call, trying to compose myself a bit. "Ah there she is!" Confused I look at the caller id, since I answered without doing that. It's Austin. "Austin?" He laughs. Is he drunk? I can hear music in the background. "Already forgot about me?" He lets out a fake cry and I can hear glass clinging. "Where are you?" I ask, worried that he might get himself in danger. "Bar?" I sigh, struggling to keep calm. "Which bar?"

"I don't know? A bar? Why d ya care?" He's slurring his words, that means he's really drunk. "Tell me where you are Austin." For a minute I don't hear anything else than the commotion happening around him. My heart rate picks up and I can feel the blood in my veins grow ice cold. "Hello?" A new wave of concern washes over me. "Austin?" I say hoping the voice just seemed different. "Yeah your boyfriend 's here, you should come pick him up, dude is wasted." I grab my keys and run out the door. "Ok tell me where!"

I'm sure I ran over a red light, I must've, oh god my mom is going to kill me. I shake my head, that doesn't matter now, Austin matters. I get to the bar and go in. The place is crowded, even though it's only 8 pm. When my eyes catch Austin, sitting at the bar, having an obvious disagreement with the bartender, my heart drops. To get his drunk he must of been here for a few hours already. I make my way through the sea of people. "Austin" I say and he turns to look at me. Immediately he smiles brightly, arms falling heavy on my waist and pulling me to him. "Hm you smell good" he says as a clumsy hand of his goes to the back of my head to stroke my hair. "Let's go!" I say, trying to push back from him, so I can get a better look at him. "No!" His voice is stern and suddenly his face shows anger.

I've never seen him like this. It breaks my heart. "Baby, come with me!" I try to avoid the lump in my throat as I speak. Taking one of his hands in mine, I make him stand up. Bad idea. He comes stumbling forward and almost brings us to the ground. Austin catches himself, by prompting both hands on the bar and caging me. His mouth drops to my ear. "I missed you." He says and makes me shiver. I can smell the strong alcohol on him. I hug him, resting my head on his chest. His chin stays on top of my head. "Let's go, please!" I say, hoping to reason with him.

Austin nods and moves to the side so that I can walk. I take his wallet and phone off the bar, loop one arm around his waist as I drape his over my shoulders. We stumble all the way to the car and I struggle to get him in, but I eventually make it happen. "Where do you live?" I ask looking at him. Austin crooks a brow at me. "You really don't know where I live?" He ask. I shake my head and start driving. I get to the gate of his house and assuming that the code is still the same, I just type it in. The whole drive he stayed quiet, at one point I thought he fell asleep, but no, he was staring at me the whole way to his house. "Ok, can you walk?" He shakes his head with a cheeky smile. I sigh and get out of the car, going to his side. "Come on!" I say and drag him out. I give him a minute to rest against my car, so that everything around him can stop spinning long enough for him to walk to the door.

Austin takes my hand and we walk to the door. "Where's the key?" He grunts and make a funny attempt to search in his front pants pocket. I move his hand away and put my mine inside the pocket feeling for the keys. "Hm I've dreamed of this, fuck!" He says, letting his head to fall back. I take the keys out and unlock the door. I ignore what he just said, I don't feel like joking with him, this is serious. Trying to push him through the door he grabs my hips and brings me closer to him. I know Austin, I know he wouldn't do anything to hurt me, but I can't help my body tensing up. "Stay!" One of his hands cups my face, thumb caressing my bottom lip. "Please!" He begs.

Nodding I push out of his arms and he lets them fall limp. I close the door behind us, turning some lights on. I take my shoes off and he struggles to do the same, but almost falls on his face. Little grunts and huff are heard from him, as I go to the kitchen to boil water to make some tea, searching for some advil in the process. When I get back from the kitchen, he's still in the entryway, struggling with the shoes. I go to my knees and help him. "So pretty!" He says looking down at me and when I lift my eyes up to meet his, he licks his lips, stoping a moan on the way. I blush and get up to my feet. "Let's get you to bed" I say patting his chest playfully. He offers me a crooked smile. "Ok" I know he's starting to sober up since there were so many dirty jokes that could've come out of what I had just suggested.

Austin drops on the bed and I go looking for his pajamas. Finding them in the drawer he always had them in, I go back to the bed and force him to a sitting position. I lift his sweater up, but his hands stop me. "You don't have to baby." I smile at the sweet remark. "It's fine, come on help me." He stands up on wobbly legs, gets undressed of his outside clothes and puts the pajamas on. On my way to the kitchen to see about that tea, I drop the dirty clothes in the laundry.

When I get back with a cup of hot tea and medicine, he looks like he's already fast asleep. I move some hairs out of his face and turn to leave. He grabs my hips before I can get far. "Stay" it's all he says. "I will, promise" I take his hands off of me and go to the bathroom to change in one of his T-shirts and a pair of sweatpants. The clothes are big on me, but they smell like him and they bring me a kind of comfort I haven't had in a long time. I climb on the other side of the bed and leave an arms length between us. Austin turns to face me.

"Thank you!" He extends a hand to caress my face. I close my eyes and get lost in his touch. "Why did you do it?" I ask, referring to him getting drunk. "I thought I lost you, you ran away from me!" My heart gets a shot of pain and I struggle to breathe. "My mom called, she was coming over, I had to get home before her" he giggles, hiding his face in the pillow. This laughter is contagious so I join him. "She still hates me?" He ask and I shake my head. "No she still hates everything I do" I say. "That's stupid, you're 25" he says and my laughter dies down. Even in his intoxicated state he sees that his words touched a sensitive part of me.

Using both arms he brings me to his chest and I don't fight it, because I need it, as much as I hate to admit it, I need him this close. Over the smell of whiskey I can smell his cologne, it's still the one I bought for him, so I'm now convinced he kept on buying it. "I'm sorry!" He says walking a hand up and down my back. "Yeah me too!" I say and snuggle my face in his shirt. Soon we fall asleep like this, hugging, in his bed, like the past three years never happened.

I feel hot, too hot for my liking, so I try to push the blanket off of me, but I soon come to realize it's not a blanket. Austin is holding me tight to his chest, little snores coming out of his mouth. He looks so calm, but the dark circles around his eyes tell me this is probably the first time his slept this long in a while. I stop stirring, I can endure the heat if it means that he gets to rest a bit. With every cell in my body I ignore that little voice trying to tell me to run for the hills. I love the way my heart beats in a regular rhythm, like it has found it's comfort.

Austin starts moving a bit and I go stiff. "Morning." He says in a raspy voice. Sleep still lingering on him. "Morning" I say, looking down at our tangled legs, to hide my burning cheeks. One of his hands takes my chin and forces me to look at him. "I missed this." He says and goes in for a kiss, but I turn my head so that his lips touch my cheek, not my lips. He sighs and lets me go of his embrace. The fact that I just deflected his kiss seems to have upset him. Getting up, Austin goes to the bathroom and closes the door behind him. I sit up on the bed and hug my legs to my chest. I hear the shower turning on, god I want to shower so bad, I haven't since before our date. Is that what it was? A date? I close my eyes desperate to shut my brain.

When the bathroom door opens so do my eyes. In the doorway a half naked Austin, with a towel hanging low on his hips, shows up, looking surprised at me. "You can go, you know?" He says brushing a hand through the wet locks on his head. "Don't be like this, please Austin!" I say looking away. I feel the bed dipping under his weight as he sits on the edge of it. "I'm sorry, I just, I don't know what to say" his head hangs low, while he fiddles with his hands on his lap. I crawl over to him and hug him from behind. Letting out a sigh he relaxes in my hug and his hands come up to hold onto my intertwined arms. My lips ghost over the back of his neck and he trembles in response. "You can just say 'thank you' and then let me have a shower." I speak with my lips against his warm skin. "Thank you for everything!" He says. "You've welcome. Now you can say 'Go have a shower, I'll make coffee'" I say giggling and he joins in too. "Go have a shower, I'll make coffee" he repeats after me, which makes me laugh even harder. With a last kiss to his shoulder, I get up and go take a well deserved shower.

When I come out, I smell like him, but as soon as I make my way to the kitchen I smell the coffee. I stop in the doorway watching him flip an omelette in the pan. I didn't even ask him for it, he just did it, like he always used to when we'd spend the night together. Austin is now wearing a black long sleeve shirt and a pair of dark blue sweatpants, I can see the muscles of his back through the thin material. Thank you shirt. When he turns around to put the plates on the table, he sees me, a big smile appearing on his face. After giving me a look over his eyes seem to twinkle. I look at myself and remember I chose to change back into his clothes, that I wore to bed. "Um I hope you don't mind." I say blushing as I go to sit down.

Austin puts the coffee mug in front of me and then joins me at the table. "No god, I don't mind, you look...well you look so beautiful" he says and my heart swells with joy. "So how's the head?" I ask drinking some the coffee. Wow he made it just how I liked it. How did he? "Good, I drank the advil you put on my nightstand" my unspoken question must be all over my face since he goes on to say. "Oh and of course I remembered, 3 espresso with whole milk" I smile shaking my head at him. I eat some of the omelette and I have to restrain the moan of pleasure. It's just how I remembered it, fluffy, cheesy and with tomatoes. "This is so good!" I say and it's his turn to blush.

"About last night..." I interrupt him quickly. "I don't hold it against you Austin. I glad you called, it's not safe to get drunk like that." He avoids my eyes. "I know, but I shouldn't have made it your problem." I shake my head. "Not a problem, your safety is important for me, always was, always will be" I say as serious as I can. He nods and starts eating. For a while we sit in a comfortable silence, enjoying breakfast. "I'm sorry for running like that yesterday." I really am sorry. "It's ok, I shouldn't of fallen asleep, it was my fault." I almost choked on my omelette and I have to drink some water to recover. He's by my side in a second, running a comforting hand over my back. "Easy there, breathe!" He says. "I'm fine" i say and squeeze his hand 3 times to reassure him. Hesitant Austin goes back to his seat. "I said I'm sorry for running, not for failing asleep with you on the beach. My mom called."

He swallows hard, wiping his hands on the top of his thighs. "Yeah I know, I remember you told me last night." Oh I guess it's good that he remembers. I hate when we get awkward like this. It's not like us. "I really meant what I said, I want to get to know you again Austin, I'm almost 26, I'm done running and I'm done doing as my mom says. She said I should get rid of Boots, can you imagine?" He looks sad for me as he listens. That he's always been good at, listening, he always listened. "She threw it in my face that I bought the apartment with their money so she has a right to say if I can or can't have a cat. I mean yeah it was their money, but it was my college fund, that they gifted to me and that wasn't drained out because I worked hard for scholarships." I pass a shaking hand through my hair. My mom's attitude towards me, never fails to send me into a panic attack. "Come here!" Austin gets up and lifts me up from my chair, giving me a tight hug.

"I'm proud of you too, you're a doctor (Y/n) and you've worked so hard. I was dick to you and you didn't deserve it, but your mom has no right to question everything you do, that much I know." I lift my head from his face and look at him. His blue eyes find my (e/c) eyes and for a moment everything feels as it should. He kisses my forehead and his lips linger there for a while. "Ok, now I'll rinse and you load, deal?" He says stacking up the plates, putting them in the sink. I giggle and go help him.

After everything is cleaned, we find ourselves on his couch. I text Betty to tell her where I am and to ask her to feed Boots. She texts me back to remember to use protection and too edge him a bit since he deserves it. Her dirty texts make be blush and roll my eyes at her childish behavior. "What?" Austin asks me, causing me to lift my eyes from the phone. "Nothing!" I say but as I put my phone on the coffee table giggles shake my body. "Ok miss 'I'll giggle on my own for nothing' " he says laughing at me. "I was texting Betty and she said to remember condoms and to not let you cum too fast, apparently you deserve some edging" I say and his face falls, this is the first time anything this filthy as come out of my mouth. He's frozen, cheeks burning. I laugh so hard that I have to hold my stomach. Wiping the tears from my eyes I clam down, enough to see that he's sill processing what I just said. I struggle to keep serious. "What happened Butler, cat got your tongue?" I ask.

He shakes his head, blinking, trying to come back from wherever him mind carried him. "You can't say things like that to me, it's not funny" I bring my brows together confused and then I see him shift his position, but before he does my eyes catch a glimpse at the bulge evident through his sweatpants. "Oh" I say and move my eyes at the tv, that has some news channel playing. He chuckles, coming closer on the couch. One of his hands goes to my back and the other sits on my knee. My breath gets caught in my chest as his lips kiss my ear. "You drive me crazy, you know that?" He asks, hot breath fanning over my skin.

I find myself nodding and swallowing hard. Do I really? Make him crazy? I turn my head and my nose bumps into his. He smiles a bit, but it goes away fast. We are so close. I could just... I close my eyes and lean into him. Our lips touch, kissing slowly, enjoying the feeling. His hand moves up from my knee to my thigh. My hands move to his neck, playing with the soft hair there. I moan into in mouth and that gives him the opportunity to push his tongue in. He groans as he pushes me back on the couch, coming to sit in top of me.

My hips move involuntarily into his, but his hands holding my waist now stop me, but not soon enough. He pushes his crotch into mine and we both sigh in pleasure. My heart is doing laps in my chest, I can't stop, he feels so good, this feels so good. He and I never got further than this, in fact I've never gone further with anyone. Everything is so new, so exciting. I want to touch all of him, my hands feel hungry to feel his skin. His lips pepper kisses on my neck. Our hips move in sink and I feel a sweet warmth in between my legs. I hug his waist with my legs and push him further into me. "Austin..." I moan, I can feel a strange thing in my lower belly, like an itch that needs to be scratched and his hips moving over mine does just that. "Please!" I say. I don't know what I want, but I know I need it.

My hands move to his shirt, starting to pull it up, needing to feel him as close as possible. His hands stop me though. He stops altogether, now frozen over me. "No, baby, listen, it's not that I don't want to. Fuck I'm so hard right now I think I could burst" he pushes his crotch forward so I can feel. I arch my back into him and moan. "Fuck, don't do that. I- I need to control myself with you. I promise you, we will, some day I'll make love to you. But not today, not like this, on a couch after you've picked me up from the bar the night before. I want to make love to you when I know that I've won your heart back" his words make me feel lightheaded, they carry so much care and love. I can't stop myself when I take his head in my hands and bring him in for a kiss. "I want to take you out again. Can I?"

His question makes me laugh, throwing my head back. "Yes, you can." Austin kisses both of my cheeks and then my lips again. He gets up and sits on the couch casually flipping through the channels on the tv. I straighten myself and try to gain some composure, but it's difficult. The feeling in my belly hasn't gone away and I know he must feel the same. "So where are you taking me out?" He smiles biting his lip. "Oh wouldn't you like to know!" He teases. I huff defeated. "Ok then mister, I'll go home and get ready for our date. Be so kind to at least tell me the dress code?" I ask hopeful to get some information out. He shakes his head and laughs at my disappointed face. "Surprise me!" Austin says.

I go to his room and change back into my clothes, folding his nicely and placing them on the bed. When I come out he looks sad. "My clothes looked better on you." He says grimacing. I only giggled and go to kiss the top of his head. Austin hugs my hips and lays his head on my tummy. "Can't wait to see you again tonight." He says. I massage his scalp with my hands and he lets out a satisfied sigh. I kiss his head one more time and he walks me to the door. He waits in the doorways until I drive out the gates, smiling at me.

All the way home I can't help but smile and the warm feeling in my heart only grows when I think about seeing him again. Maybe this is a good thing, I try to tell myself, but it'll take some time to completely kill that small voice in the back of my mind saying 'be careful'. I shake my head, trying to shake that voice away. Turning on the radio I hum to the music. I'm happy and until proven otherwise I'm gonna stay happy. Or at least I'll try.

Tags: @kittenlittle24 @amorx @cryingabtab @lexicox044 @lrissa @feral4austinbutler @sageskywalker @jesssssicaa @rainydayz101 @flwersgarden @bobthefishiesworld @captured-memory @homebodybirkin2003 @galaxygirl453 @butlerslut @chrisevansgirl34 @myradiaz @pennyroyalcreep @macey234 @im-lame-irl @lordandmistress @the-girl-wh0-cries-w0lf @poppet05 @gabbywontlose

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aralezinspace · 1 year

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Fingerprints- An Interlude

A/N: I'm on my second (or third idk) reading of the series Little Earthquakes by @peachesofteal (some of the best writing I've ever read, fanfic or otherwise) and this scene/interlude has just been sitting in my brain, so with their blessing here it is! This takes place between chapters 5 and 6 of Silent All These Years. ~Warning: aftermath of self-harm, blood, Morpheus being Extra and Dramatic, feels~

It took very little of his sand for you to succumb to sleep, just a few grains to sever the last threads of stubbornness that kept you conscious. Your face and form were relaxed, but in no way peaceful. Even in the dim light of your room, he could see the grimy tear tracks that stained your face, just how deep your eyes had sunk into your skill. Your skin was pallid, clammy, sickly. The pitiful creature before him was almost a stranger, bearing only the slightest hint of resemblance to the spirited storyteller he had fallen for.

Morpheus knew he had promised to clean your bathroom and erase the physical reminders of your darkest moment, but he couldn’t bring himself to look away, almost afraid you would vanish the instant he blinked, as if you’d cease to exist once he could no longer see you. The Endless trembled: he had come so close to losing you, too close to fathom. And he had played no small part in your almost permanent collapse.

The shame burned and writhed in his chest, an almost foreign feeling. Morpheus had lived much of his life without regrets or backward glances, now he found himself making almost endless pleas to take back the hurt he had caused, or go back in time to stop himself from hurting you in the first place.

He stood there, watching you sleep, listening to your soft breaths- in and out, in and out. A crooked finger brushed feather light across the apple of your cheek- even he could tell your skin was colder than it should be. Glancing over his shoulder every few seconds, he rooted around your closet for another blanket. Gentle like a spring breeze, he draped it over your form, tucking the edges in just so. He liked to think you relaxed just a little more into your mattress.

Satisfied that you were as comfortable as he could make you, Dream turned away from your sleeping form and went to the bathroom. Light leaked through the space between the door and the wood flooring, beckoning him in with deceptive innocence. A slightly shaking hand hovered over the doorknob in the moment it took to steel himself.

Morpheus almost doubled over from the assault on his senses and how his mind raced to process all the information. He had to blink a few times to adjust to the harsh, bright light after the blackness of your room. The cloying scent of your despair and desperation had seeped into the tiles and taken a firm hold. Your toiletries cluttered the counter, unused and sticky with residue. The only thing that looked like it had seen regular use was your toothbrush.

And then, there was the blood. Your blood, splattered in now-dried streaks and splotches of red and rust. The stinging scent of iron burned his nostrils. Bony fingers held the door frame in a death grip as hardened blue eyes landed on the knife, resting almost contritely in the tub. The handle and porcelain bore faint fingerprints, stamped in your blood.

His boots clomped softly on the floor as he numbly stepped into the bathroom. He sank to his knees, the joints protesting the impact with the slightly cracked tile. If Dream had his way, he’d send this entire room to the darkness to be consumed and never seen again, sentencing every memory of your bleakest moments to oblivion. But, the most he could do in the waking world was erase the evidence and let the bare bones remain, even though he knew he would still see the stains your blood left behind every time he looked into this room, no matter how pure and white the porcelain shone.

Dream forced himself to his feet, held out his hand, and drew your blood to him. Ordered it, commanded it, bent your dried up life force to his will. Like any other of his subjects, the drops and streams and particles came to him and gathered into a shifting orb, as if it were still writhing with your unrest. It twisted in front of him, hovering over the palm of his open hand and tensely clawed fingers. With his free hand, he reached inside his coat and withdrew a small glass vial.

With the slightest thought, he willed the glob of blood into the vial, where it continued to churn like ocean waves. A stopper formed of sand plugged the mouth, and the vial fell gently into his hand.

He couldn’t give what life remained in the vial back to you, but it wouldn’t go to waste. He would keep it close by to the end of his days, an ever-constant reminder of what he had put you through, a manifestation of his oath to make this right and treat you as you deserved, better than you deserved.

The bathroom no longer smelled of iron and tears, red no longer stained the white of your tub, but the essence of your pain and sadness lingered in the air like fog. He could see the ghost of you in his mind’s eye, lying there, pale and limp and covered in blood, fingers wrapped loosely around the handle of the knife.

His eyes fixed on the blade again, glaring at it with all the force of his rage and pain. He tucked the vial of your blood back into his coat pocket and knelt next to the tub. Delicately, he picked up the blade with two fingers, the metal cold and damp. He wrapped his hand around the blade, the edge digging into his palm and splitting the skin with the force of his grip. A small rivulet of blood trickled down his hand and wrist before being absorbed into the inky fabric of his sleeve.

His hand burned and pinched and stung as he held on tighter, trembling with the effort. He let out a grunted gasp at the pain, committing the sensation to memory, as if he could erase your pain with his own.

Dream gasped again as he let go of the knife, letting it clatter to the floor. He panted for breath, staring at the oozing cut on his palm with a sort of detached fascination.

A faint whimper from your room caught his attention. He had lingered here too long, he should be watching over you. A pinch of sand cleaned and healed his cut, but the phantom pain lingered. He turned to leave, but was once again reminded of the knife’s presence.

The air in the bathroom trembled and shook, blackness seeping out of his form. Midnight pits with a single pinprick of light stared down the blade with all his ancient wrath, all his remorse, all the anger that didn’t yet have a direction to be unleashed. A vortex of sand streamed from his hands and sucked up the knife before tearing it apart, atom by atom, until nothing remained of the implement that had almost taken you from him.

Morpheus let out a shuddering breath as the sand returned to him. He had done everything he could, all that remained was to watch over you until you woke. He turned out the light and left the bathroom without another glance.

In your room, you were in much the same position he had left you, small and vulnerable with the covers pulled up to your chin. He sat in the chair across from your bed, staring at you while a hand clenched and released and handled the vial of your blood. Taking one last breath, he settled in for what would undoubtedly be one of the longest nights he had, or would ever, know.

#The Sandman #The Sandman fanfic #morpheus x reader #Morpheus fanfic #my stuff

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mosneakers · 8 months

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Hi! It's me again, haha!

Question/Request regarding Sawyer and Brick's kids - (if you've already done this please just ignore me lol) but can we get a little bio on each of them? They are all so cute and I'd love to know more like their likes/dislikes, fave parent, fave foods, what they like to play/do in their free time - and any other lil' details you'd like to share. I know they're young, but I'd love to know more of them .. They are ALL so cute and man, Brick's genes run strong! LOL

Anyways, I love you.

Hi lovely 👋 I love this question so much, thank you!! Those genes really DO run strong, don't they?! 😆

A little info on each of Brick and Sawyer's kiddos:

Gerbit Darling

For those who don't know, Gerbit seems to mean "llama" in simlish. He's pretty much named after this cheer, which is incredibly near and dear to my heart 🥺 I wanted all of Brick and Sawyer's kids to have very classic sims names!

Gerbit is the first Gen 5 Darling, Brick and Sawyer's oldest child, and was born pretty early into Brick and Sawyer's relationship, when the two were very young and hadn't been dating long. Sawyer just left university early, and Brick just got out of jail and cancelled on the internet, losing his celebrity status as an influencer. Despite life being up in the air for the couple, Brick and Sawyer were hopeful when Gerbit was born, he was their little beacon of light ❤

Just like Brick, Gerbit isn't very gifted intellectually. However, he makes up for this with his heart of gold. He's a very sweet boy and enjoys visiting his grandparents more than anywhere else. His relatives think he'll become a family sim for sure. He's not great at making friends quite yet, but his closest friends are his cousin Minnow, and distant cousin Budgie Sparrow. (Birdie's youngest)

When it comes to Gerbit's interests, he enjoys watching heavy machinery, such as planes, trains, cranes, bulldozers, and excavators. He looooves to eat and has the glutton trait. His favorite thing to eat is Taco Casserole, but only if it's made by Grandma Donna! Like his other siblings, he loves his dad but doesn't see him much so he's a lot closer to Mom.

Belo Darling

Belo, the middle child, is named after the Belomisia Jungle in Selvadorada, to honor Sawyer's heritage.

Out of the three kids, Belo takes the most after his mom in personality, although he seems to have inherited his father's lack of intelligence, similar Gerbit. He has the angelic trait but does seem to have a short temper like Dad. However, he displays his attitude in mannerisms similar to Sawyer, with sassy eyerolls and pursing his lips in disapproval.

Belo looks up to his big brother and usually tries to emulate his behavior. If Gerbit misbehaves, Belo will too. But if Gerbit is a good boy, which is usually the case, Belo follows his lead. Belo didn't grow his first tooth or say his first word until after 18 months old. He still isn't very advanced at speaking, and the speech he does use has an impediment, he's unable to pronounce his "R"s.

He loves singing, most sports, especially baseball and football (both Simerican and real), and experimenting with Mom's makeup, which can usually be found scattered on the bathroom, livingroom, or bedroom floor. He often consumes and prefers processed foods such as microwaved chicken nuggets, microwaved breakfast burritos, and animal crackers.

Rosebud Darling

Baby Rosie, or Rosebud, is Brick and Sawyer's youngest and only daughter. She is biologically Brick's, conceived from Zoe Flores's and Brick's scandalous and juiced session that they shared in a hot tub at a party in Del Sol Valley. Most of us know the dramatic story, but basically, Zoe and her boyfriend Drew's relationship could not withstand the burden of raising another man's child, and Zoe forfeited her rights to Brick's side, and Sawyer ended up adopting her for full custody.

Despite being thrown into quite the chaotic storyline, she's always been such a happy and social baby, who just goes with the flow. She also has the angelic trait, and loves to cuddle and be carried. Being a Darling and being surrounded by the hustle and bustle of Evergreen Harbor, she's constantly surrounded by loud sounds, which she has fully embraced, and always can be kept content by playing sound for her. Like Belo, she also loves singing! When she was a baby, Sawyer's Dad and Stepmom brought fresh avocado and papaya grown from their property in Selvadorada for her to try, and she's been hooked ever since.

#ts4 #simblr love #💌#essential Belo information #essential Rosebud information #essential Gerbit information #Gerbit Darling #Rosebud Darling #Belo Darling #MD4 #simsstuph #ask

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zeldaseyebrows · 1 year

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Chapter One of Sacrilege and Sororities is out!

This is the botw Grad School AU I’ve been talking about forever and finally am publishing. I hope you all enjoy!

Summary: After an assassination attempt, Link and Zelda must live together and navigate the impending Calamity, grad school, strange dreams, and their complete disasters of personal lives. One of those things is more difficult than the others.

Pairing: Link/Zelda, OG Link/Hylia

Rating: E

Excerpt:

“I hate him!”

Zelda narrows her eyes with the vengeful focus that comes after consuming copious amounts of spirits. However, her righteous anger would be more chilling if she wasn’t hunched over a toilet bowl in a sorority house bathroom. The cute sand seal printed shower curtain surrounding the claw foot tub destroys any sort of gravitas Zelda’s tirade could have possessed.

“So I’ve heard,” Urbosa replies.

So I’ve heard for the past hour, Urbosa thinks, shifting to get more comfortable on the cool bathroom tile.

Even though it’s already 2am, it’s still going to be a long night. But she’s a loyal friend, and would never leave Zelda in her darkest hour. Even if it means missing the party she’s hosting or getting puke on her skirt or having to listen to Zelda rant about her poor appointed knight and bodyguard for an egregious amount of time, Urbosa’s in it for the long-haul.

Zelda wipes her mouth with a piece of toilet paper Urbosa passes her then continues her drunken rampage, “He’s just so… short! And everyone thinks he’s such hot stuff, because he can do athletics and kill things and looks like –and I quote verbatim– a ‘sexy little androgynous jock stoner elf.’ But they don’t have to see him at 5 a.m. But you know who does?” Zelda smacks her hand against the toilet bowl in emphasis and raises her voice even more. “Who does have to see him at 5 in the bloody morning when that monstrosity of an alarm goes off so he can do push-ups and pull-ups and sit-ups and all the other ‘-ups’ and make me feel bad about myself?”

Urbosa, demonstrating her infinite wisdom, does not answer the rhetorical question. A crisp spring breeze flutters the lace curtains and sweeps through the bathroom. It brings the sounds of intoxicated women laughing and dancing and cheering. Urbosa wishes for the thousandth time that Zelda could just be a happy drunk like them.

Balling her hands up, Zelda shrieks, “Who does? I do! I do because my awful father made him my bodyguard and my accursed roommate. All because he pulled that dinky little sword out of the stone while he was camping.” Zelda contorts her face and pretends to brandish a sword but ends up bashing her arm against the toilet lid. “Oh, I’m Mr. Sir Link Perfect Arse Chosen Hero and I’m barely clearing 5’3” on a good day, but everyone and their mother still wants me. I’m so quiet and stoic and annoying and I wear a stupid little knit beanie and have a motorcycle and a ponytail because I’m soooo cool. Look at me!”

“His beanie does make him look like one of my ex-girlfriends,” Urbosa mumbles to herself then refocuses.

“He’s such a little weirdo and I think he’s in love with his ratty old crockpot. If he even can feel love, since he’s as empty inside as a kiddie pool after it gets drained because someone’s shat in it. He even named the crockpot. Its name is Brenda. Brenda the crockpot.”

Urbosa draws upon every single ounce of willpower she has in order not to burst out laughing.

#zelink #zelink fic #botw #breath of the wild #tloz #the legend of zelda #My writing #Link #princess zelda #this is also going to have a lot of Hylink in it too #just saying #sacrilege and sororities

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dollsonmain · 11 months

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I’m also just kind of annoyed at That Guy in general right now.

On Monday I put things on the shopping list, then we get to the store and either I will take off to Goodwill for a moment or to look at toys while the boys go around and do whatever, then catch up to them later.

If I don’t double check what’s in the cart, That Guy will skip stuff from the list on purpose because he doesn’t like spending money even/especially if it’s on food for his family and then I have to run all over the store and grab what he skipped.

Sometimes I wonder if he does that on purpose so I feel a need to stay with him at the store instead of getting a few blissful moments of By Myself AND Not Trapped in the House once a week at the fucking Walmart.

- This past week I’d put drink sticks (pre-portioned, sucralose instead of sugar electrolyte mix-ins that are Red-40-free) on the list even though we still had like 5 of them. They come in a pack of 8 and Son has decided he gets one every day which I’m really not going to complain about because he doesn’t eat a wide variety of foods and those drink sticks have some vitamins he’s missing.

As you can see, that means none for anyone else.

At first I was getting two boxes per week so I could also get those extra, easily consumed vitamins, and then randomly That Guy decided we were getting one box per week even though we easily consumed two and it’s dry goods that keep so a surplus isn’t going to rot.

I also got a big tub of sugar-Gatorade powder a couple weeks back to make sure that I had some sort of electrolyte source that didn’t require denying it to Son, but That Guy’s using it all up.

Anyway.

We had a few extra drink sticks left this past week and I saw an opportunity to go into a small surplus so I could get maybe one or two a week.

Got home, looked for the box to add it to the cup they’re kept in, couldn’t find it, That Guy skipped it because we already had less than a week’s worth at home.

- This past week I also put Cheez It on the list because we were almost out. That Guy had said last week that he doesn’t want to eat them anymore. It was the FIRST time he’d asked if anyone else was eating them instead of just saying “I don’t want to buy that anymore.” and I was surprised. Both Son and I said yes, we eat them, so we should still buy them.

That put the onus on That Guy to not eat them.

We get home from the store, I’m looking for Cheez It to munch because I’m having a hard time with food lately and only wanting to eat bread and crackers, and there’s an empty spot on the shelf in the pantry where they live. I ask Son where they are and he says “Dad doesn’t want to buy them anymore.” and I was like “DAD IS NOT THE ONLY PERSON IN THIS HOUSE,” a point I made WITH That Guy when he initially said he didn’t want to eat them anymore (which I only mention because if I don’t, people assume I haven’t bothered to try).

- 2 boxes of drink sticks and a box of Cheez It are back on the shopping list for next Monday. I also bought a bag of frozen pot stickers for the first time in ages because he’d done the same thing with those. He decided he didn’t want to eat them anymore so instead of him just not eating them, he stopped letting us buy them.

He does this sort of thing a lot where he acts like anything that’s not explicitly for him is not for anyone, no one should have it, and it’s stupid that it even exists/no one should make it. It’s very frustrating.

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witchyshadeofwinter · 6 months

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My apple pie recipe

I misplaced my paper copy of an apple pie recipe I have followed for 5 years and is a family fav, so I'm hoping that by writing it down, I can preserve it in a way:

Ingredients:

8 Granny Smith apples

2 deep-dish pie crusts

1/2 c butter

3 tbsp flour

1/2 c white sugar

1/2 c brown sugar

1/4 c water

Optional: A smattering of cinnamon

Peel and slice 8 Granny Smith apples. This is a time-consuming step so what my mom does is once we're done with the peeling, we put the apples in a giant tub of lemon water to slow the browning. For slicing, I tend to use a food processor bc I'm lazy, but if you don't have that luxury, just slice the apples into manageable chunks. With the lemon water preservation, you can save the apples for baking the next day if you're wiped out from all the knifework.

Preheat oven to 425F. Dump the apple chunks/slices into one of the pie crusts. It can look like a little mountain, but don't worry: it shrinks while in the oven.

Roll out the other pie crust with a rolling pin to make some latticework. It doesn't have to be pretty (mine certainly isn't), but it does help to give a homey presentation to the pie AND hold onto some of the sugar-sauce mix you eventually pour over the pie. Once you've got the lattice work ready to go, arrange it on the apple mountain as you see fit.

Get a small sauce pan ready and melt the stick of butter. Once it's good and liquidy, pour in the 3 tbsp of flour. When it starts getting thick and bubbling, pour in both types of sugar and the water. Stir all that together (and add the cinnamon if you're inclined) and wait for it to get Extra Thicc. Should take about 5 minutes, but it can vary.

IMPORTANT: Put your apple mountain pie on a tray to catch any drips. It will drip and you do NOT want to walk into a kitchen full of smoke and/or flames in your oven in the near future.

SLOWLY pour the sugar sauce over the lattice work. I typically start pouring in the center of the pie bc it allows for the sauce to distribute throughout the pie from a good starting point. Pour over the rest of the pie and be sure to cover as much of the lattice work as you can with the sauce.

Stick the pie in the oven for about 15 minutes. Then lower the heat to about 375F and continue baking for about 45 minutes. Be sure to check your pie now and again!

The pie should eventually reach a lovely golden brown color. That's when you know it's done.

Ok, I think that's as much as I can remember ;_; Time to see if it was accurate

#apple pie #kitchen witch #baking #pies #pie recipe #recipes #fall/winter recipes #trying to bake from memory #wlw #sapphic #lesbian #lgbt #lgbtq

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just-jessie0 · 8 months

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Pip of a Raptor - The Death of the American Dream (Chapter 5)

Heather Morrison jolted upright in her bed, her heart racing, as a sudden, deafening crash was followed by a dull thud. She held her breath for a moment, listening intently, and exhaled slowly as the cacophony of voices erupted from somewhere else within the house. With a tired sigh, she reached up to rub the sleep from her eyes. It wasn’t the most peaceful way to begin her day, but it had become a familiar routine. At least this time, the shouting wasn’t aimed in her direction. Although oftentimes it usually was.

She rolled off her mattress, careful not to scratch herself on the one spring that was poking through the fabric. She scanned the room briefly before locating her sweats. After a quick sniff test, she deemed them clean enough and pulled them on. She knew she’d have to use the washing machine soon, but she wanted to wait until Samuel’s friends left. Venturing beyond the living room when they were around seldom ended well for her.

Dressing quickly, she pulled on her favorite sweatshirt and gathered her hair into a messy bun before slipping her feet into her converse. Her toothbrush, perched on top of the plastic bin she used as a makeshift dresser, was her next target. After she brushed, she gargled with the stagnant water from her cup, then pried open the rusted window and spat into the yard.

Heather pressed her ear against her bedroom door, listening for a minute. The woman—Doris, or maybe her name was Donna—was shrieking like a banshee, clearly upset about something. Heather guessed that someone stole her share of whatever drugs they decided to use today. She had learned that addicts were very particular about stuff like that. Several male voices, including her father’s, began to drown out D’s frantic yelling. From years of practice, she could tell that they were all gathered in the same room.

Heather retrieved the lawn chair she had jammed under the doorknob, folded it up, and gently leaned it against the wall, making sure not to make any noise. She cracked the door open just a sliver, peering out cautiously and double-checking to confirm that the coast was clear before tiptoeing down the hallway.

Fortunately, the kitchen was on the opposite end of the house from the living room, and Heather stealthily made her way there in search of something to eat. Piles of trash, pizza boxes and dirty dishes littered the countertops and spilled onto the floor. With practiced precision, she maneuvered around anything prone to making noise and quietly opened one of the side cabinets. Inside, she found an array of half-consumed bags of stale chips, a large tub of pretzels, and her father’s storage of beer. She selected the bag of chips with the nearest expiration date and shifted the beer aside to uncover her hidden trove of pop tarts, which she had stolen from the store during her last visit into town. They were a guilty pleasure she rarely indulged in, reserving them for special occasions. Though today hardly qualified as special, she reasoned that with four packets still left in the box and weeks having elapsed since her last indulgence, she deserved to treat herself to one today.

Clutching the chip bag and pop tart in her hand, she froze, listening intently for another minute to ensure that no one had moved during her scavenging. Satisfied that she remained undetected, she stepped toward the refrigerator, trying to stifle the sound of the suction release as she opened it. A wave of spoiled food odors assailed her nostrils and she had to hold her breath to stop from gagging.

Carefully, she pushed aside takeout containers and yet more beer until she reached a Styrofoam tray cradling a solitary piece of raw chicken. She turned the tray in her hand, noting that the chicken had a slightly off-color appearance, but its scent hadn’t yet taken on a foul odor. She deemed it acceptable for her purposes. No one ever cooked in this house anyway and she was sure that it wouldn’t be missed.

She pocketed the pastry and held the chip bag in one hand and the small tray of chicken in the other as she made her swift exit through the back door, ensuring she remained unnoticed by anyone inside the house. As the door clicked shut behind her, the screaming from within became nothing more than a muffled garble, and she felt the tension in her shoulders gradually release.

She followed her familiar path through the woods without bothering to trace her steps; the way to her own personal hideaway had etched itself into the grass over time. Even if it hadn’t, she had been taking this same journey for as long as she could recall. The sun shone brightly through the trees, casting its golden rays as if personally guiding her forward. She took in a deep breath, savoring the earthy aroma and the sharp scent of the pines. Birds flitted from tree to tree, and to her left, she heard the sudden crash of a deer bursting forth from its hidden sanctuary in the tall grass, bolting in the opposite direction of Heather when it decided she had come too close.

Heather paused briefly, unfurling the bag of chips, then scooping up a handful and scattering them in the spot where the deer had rested before her arrival. These skittish creatures never ventured close to her, but she made it a habit to offer them a small snack as an apology for her intrusion. Typically, by the time she returned to check the area, whatever she had scattered would have disappeared.

She pressed forward along the hidden trail through the trees, gracefully navigating over logs and sidestepping the prickly raspberry bushes until she reached her destination. The teepee, her secret refuge, lay a considerable distance from the house, far enough to ensure her father would never stumble upon it – not that he ever paid attention to where she spent her days. Miles of dense woods sprawled in various directions, and the nearest neighbor had no reason to venture so deeply into the wilderness. In this tranquil haven, she found solace, a place that felt more like home than her own house ever did.

Pausing for a moment, she circled around the teepee, meticulously inspecting her improvised tarp for any signs of damage. Content that it remained just as she had left it, she crouched down and slipped through the opening she had left in the sheet. Inside, she unfolded some of the old blankets she kept stashed in the back and cocooned herself in them, creating a cozy human-sized nest. She left the tray of chicken outside the entrance to bask in the sun.

She let out a contented sigh as she reclined into the soft mound of blankets. With a satisfied smile, she unfurled the bag of chips and indulged in the stale, salty rounds, crunching away happily.

Since she could walk, Heather had been constructing miniature teepees out in the woods. In the beginning, they were nothing more than haphazard piles of twigs, resembling more of a miniature firewood stack than any semblance of a livable structure. Years went by before she could lift the long branches required to build one that could fit her inside. It took many additional months of trial and error to figure out how to make them structurally sound. The snowfall and frequent storms often toppled her creations, but with practice, she honed her skills, and she could rebuild the teepee in less than half a day if needed.

She smoothed out the chip bag, tilting it upward and emptying the remaining crumbs into her mouth before crumpling up the foil and tossing it into the waste bin. Among the folded blankets, she retrieved her notepad and then pulled her box of pencils closer. Most of them she had stolen from the art room at the start of the school year, and now, many were reduced to mere stubs. She knew she’d have to make a trip to the store to replenish her supply soon. Maybe she would try to grab some alongside a new batch of pop tarts.

Selecting one of the pencils from the container, she carefully sharpened it before settling down to sketch. An hour elapsed before Heather caught the familiar sound of flapping wings and the soft, dull thuds of something landing on one of the trees outside the teepee, the leaves rustling in response to the added weight. Heather smiled to herself before setting aside her sketchbook and crawling out of the shelter.

“Well, there you two are. Running a little late today, aren’t we?” Heather shielded her eyes from the sun with her hands, scanning the trees until she spotted the pair perched together on one of the larger branches of a nearby maple. She placed her hands on her hips and called up.

“Come on down, I have breakfast for ya.”

Perched high in the tree, two red-tailed hawks swiveled their obsidian eyes to focus on Heather, observing her movements. The larger of the pair, a tawny-brown beauty with a chest adorned in snowy feathers, gave its companion a gentle nip before unfurling its wings and gracefully leaping, landing on the ground just an arm’s length from the girl. The hawk glanced back at its companion, the slightly smaller one, still tawny brown but with a smattering of speckled plum. It lingered for a moment longer, scrutinizing Heather, before finally jumping down from the branch and joining its partner on the ground.

“Hi Goldie. Nice of you to join us today, Shadow,” Heather addressed the hawks by the names she had given them, and they continued to watch her silently. “You guys hungry? I know you are, you can smell it, can’t you?”

As if in response to the question, the hawks turned their heads toward the chicken, now warm and leaking juices on to the tray, before they returned their attention to Heather. The larger, braver one waddled closer to Heather.

“Looking pretty today, Goldie-girl! But I bet you already know that. I bet Shadow can’t keep his talons off you,” Heather cooed affectionately at the large female. Just as his name suggested, Shadow cautiously followed Goldie forward, remaining slightly behind the female.

“We’ve done this for years, Shad. You think you would be a little less shy around me,” Heather carried on her one-sided conversation, briefly turning her back to the hawks as she picked up the chicken. She sat down and crossed her legs, making made easy work of tearing the chicken breast into strips using her fingernails. “Don’t let the other hawks know that you hide behind your wife when you get scared, they’ll probably make fun of you.”

Shadow didn’t appear to appreciate the insult. He bounced forward to join Goldie, who stood in front of Heather.

“Sorry guys, this is all I could find in the house. You’ll have to share nicely, okay? I’ll see if I can sneak some fish out of the store next week for you. I know that’s your favorite.”

She dangled a strip of chicken from her fingers, and Goldie extended her neck, deftly grabbing the end from Heather and tearing it into pieces before swallowing them down. Heather held out another piece for Shadow, who alternated his attention between the chicken and Heather before carefully retreating from her outstretched hand. Heather sighed and tossed the strip toward the male, who retrieved it from the ground and walked a few feet away to savor his snack, his rust-colored tail swaying with each step.

Heather repeated feeding the hawks until she ran out of the strips, having to reprimand Goldie a couple of times, who nipped at Shadow when he tried to take some of the strips of chicken that she deemed as rightfully hers. Both came within touching distance of Heather once they finished their last pieces, eagerly searching for more.

“All finished for today,” Heather said, raising her empty hands to signal to the birds that she had no more chicken. Both Goldie and Shadow tilted their heads, seemingly pondering whether the girl was telling the truth. Heather nudged the foam tray closer to the birds, who began to shred it apart, checking to ensure no stray pieces of chicken remained hidden somewhere on it.

Heather watched the hawks as they tore apart the tray. Suddenly, both Shadow and Goldie raised their heads and turned, listening intently to a sound that Heather’s ears couldn’t pick up.

“What is it, guys?” Heather asked the birds. Almost instantly, Shadow leapt into the air, spreading his great wings, and took flight. Goldie cast one last look at Heather, as if bidding her farewell, before following her mate into the sky.

Not five minutes later, Heather heard voices nearby, accompanied by the telltale cracking of leaves and twigs beneath sneakers. She froze, her heart pounding, fearing that her father had finally decided to track her down. A brief, hopeful moment passed when she realized that the voices sounded nothing like her father’s slurred, grumbling tones. However, that hope dissipated almost instantly as she recognized the voices drawing closer, and her panic surged once more.

“I’m telling you it was over here.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yes, it is.”

“We’re walking in circles. We’ve past that stump twice already.”

“They’re different stumps, Jon.”

“Oh yeah? Did the moss tell you that too?”

“No, you just weren’t paying enough attention.”

“We don’t get phone service out here; there’s nothing to do but pay attention.”

“Start paying better attention.”

Just as she stood and turned to flee, Jon and Alfie emerged from the thicket.

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #writing #america #fiction #novel #novel writing #pip of a raptor #writers and poets #creative writing

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