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railingsofsorrow · 9 months

Text

Recharging. . .

[spencer reid x reader]

summary: spencer's best remedy is his little family.

pairing: s.reid x f!reader (+ eden reid!)

w.c: 3.8K

warnings/content: fluff; cuteness overload; children; spencer is a girl's dad; discussion of a case; mentions of death and traumatic events; this is basically a hurt/comfort blurb; mentions of pregnancy; mentions of marriage; crying.

A/N: is anybody in need of some fluff? this was supposed to be a short drabble.... enjoy this old WIP as I finish some of my requests.

loosely inspired by ocie elliott's take me home

want to read more works about this au?

→ day-off

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You stopped the low humming to the song as you eyed the rearview mirror to check on your kid. The familiar scratching against your seat warning you she was awake.

“Hey bub,” you take advantage of the red traffic light to dive your hand back and tickle her bare feet. She'd always kick off her shoes the first chance she got. Your favorite sound echoes through the car: her giggle. “You were just napping, where'd that energy come from?” you refer again to the tip of her feet bumping against your car seat. Another reminder that she was getting bigger every day.

Eden raised her arms, wriggling her little fingers like she did when she was excited for something. You were pretty sure she got that from Penelope, you always saw they do this whenever she came over to your place.

“We're visiting daddy!”

A laugh bubbles out of you. Eden left you amazed by her perception of things. Although the route from your apartment to the BAU wasn't that strange for her anymore, given that you and Spencer drove a lot to drop each other off with her in the car.

“Are we?” You turn on an avenue, humming. “I didn't notice.”

Eden looks at you through the rearview mirror, “but you're driving, mommy. You need the GPS. It's in your head.”

“Is it?” You're amused at your toddler's choice of words. “Okay. Yes, we're visiting daddy at work. We've come to pick him up because he's very tired from a case and it's not good to drive while you're tired, right?”

“Right!” She nods vehemently, craning her neck to check on the view through the window. “And he needs me to recharge his bats.”

You finish parking your car and a smile curls up the edges of your mouth. Eden can't say the word batteries so she shortened it to an easier version which is bats. You still have to teach her what the word actually means.

“That's right,” you say, taking off your seatbelt and opening the door. By the time you reach the backseat, Eden is grinning like the Cheshire cat. Her excitement never ceases to rub off on you, even though you enter this building most of the days in a week. “Hi, baby.” You cooed, welcoming your child in your arms after unbuckling her seatbelt. Her light brown curls that you have no idea who she got it from tickle the side of your face as she snuggles to your chest to stare at the tall FBI building.

“Shoes on. Coat on. All warmed up. Shall we go up?”

An eager Eden exclaims a loud YES and that's enough for you to start walking.

From “Spencer”:

[6:34 p.m] No need to pick me up, angel, I can drive. I am not that tired.

[6:35 p.m] Is Eden still at your mom's? I can pick her up on the way.

This is the mutual feeling you have on workdays. Not in a million years you'd understand how hard it was to be away from your daughter for more than one day. Until it happened.

It makes your heart break when you're not able to tuck her into bed or pick her up at school to see her excited little legs run towards you. In spite of the fact that Spencer and you manage well to alternate days at work so she always has one of you close by, it's difficult to not see her every day when a case takes either one of you out of the city.

You can only image how much he misses her after being away for four days.

You left the messages unanswered and click on another chat instead. Light of my life with a bunch of hearts is the one you're looking for. Penelope somehow stole your phone someday and changed her contact name to this; you never changed it back, just left as it was, it suits her anyway.

“Smile.” You request Eden as you lift your phone to take a selfie of the two of you. Her grin exposes her two missing front teeth. “Done.” You kiss her cheek and adjust her in your hold to type another text, waiting for the elevator to reach your desired floor.

To “Light of my life 💗❤️💕”

[6:38 p.m] incoming at five... four... three...

You hit send right as the elevator doors spread open.

Just as you step into the bullpen, it's as if a switch has flipped because your daughter promptly tucks her face into the croak of your neck, her cold nose making your shiver slightly. Her hands clinging onto your blouse.

Eden gets shy under watchful eyes, no matter how many times she visits the BAU.

Penelope is walking briskly out of her office, her hands wriggling into your direction as she catches sight of you and the bundle in your arms. Every eye in the bullpen turns to you because of the commotion.

You haven't seen your husband yet.

“There is pumpkin!” That's the reason that pulls Eden out of her shell. She practically throws herself out of your arms and into her favourite aunt's arms. “Oh, hello, hello, my beautiful niece, whom I have missed so much!”

Eden is giggling and you can't help but smile softly at the scene. Soon, your friends start approaching one by one. It doesn't take long for Eden to have at least two new toys in her hands. Emily and Derek are competing which one she likes best.

“She's so big.” JJ entwines her arm with yours.

You sigh, leaning closer to her, “Yes, she is.” You say, observing Eden play with Emily. “Henry as well! How is he by the way? We haven't had a playdate in so long.”

JJ nods, “He's great, my sweet boy.” Her eyes hold a fondness that you relate. “And that's true. We have to set up a date, catch up on things that aren't murders and blood.”

“Preach, Jayge.”

Your laughter dies down when the two people missing from the group appear. Your eyes met Spencer's and his whole body seems to relax as if it physically pained him to stand and seeing you just helped him take a breath of fresh air. Luke greeted you with a side hug and was immediately captured by Eden's endearing spell, as expected. Although, once Spencer entered her line of sight, no one else mattered.

Spencer let his satchel drop to the ground without a care so he could scoop Eden up as she jumped into his arms. His sullen demeanor converting into a cheerful one in a blink of an eye. This is what Eden means by “recharging”.

You watch the reunion with a growing smile, deciding to approach them a little later.

“Hi, sweetheart,” Spencer says while peppering kisses at her cheek, her little nose and her forehead. Eden could only reply with giggles as her whole face became red at the overwhelming love she's receiving. “Daddy missed you so much, did you know that?” And the crack in his voice goes unnoticed by her, but not by you, so you take advantage of everyone's distraction to step towards your little family.

Eden is giving her dad a butterfly kiss when you get to them. That's her way of saying I missed you to any of you when you come back home.

“Hey,” you squeeze his arm in a gentle touch, grabbing his attention. “Tough one?” your question is discreet, only meant for him. Eden is fortunately too busy with her new stuffed toy that Derek is showing her to notice anything else.

The dimmed spark in Spencer's eyes along with the red outline of his eyelids are everything you need to know. You don't need words — you never needed words to understand Spencer — but he provides you a meek yeah and swallows hard. The only thing that seems to be holding him back from crumbling down is the fact that he's holding his daughter.

In an attempt of comfort, you pull his free hand to yours, intertwining your fingers and giving it a tight squeeze. Just for him to know that you were there and it's okay now.

He repeats the action, the corner of his lips pulling slightly. His attention is quickly stolen back to Eden, who starts listing possible names to the new friends that uncle Derek and auntie Emily had gifted her.

They discuss the matter until you bid everyone goodbye, a playdate, a babysitting afternoon and a girls night out scheduled. Trying to take Eden from Spencer was foolish, he didn't want to let her go. No matter how tired he was. Better yet, she didn't want to let him go either.

“I think grapes would be a great name, E.” Spencer praises her daughter's naming skills as he buckled her up in the safety seat. “What about this one?” He grabs the green bunny and places it in front of his face, his voice in a high-pitched tone to imitate an animal's voice. “What will you name me after, miss Eden Reid? I am green and I like carrots!”

Eden's bright caramel eyes glint with joy and she pulls the bunny to her chest, holding it tightly. “I know what I'm going to call them.”

“You do?” You were starting to be curious as well.

“Mr. Greenie.”

“You're so clever.” Spencer and Eden shared accomplice smiles and you see everything of him in her at that single action. It was in the nose scrunch whenever she found something particularly funny, in the spark of mischief in her eyes and even the outline of her mouth which you never stopped noticing from the moment she was born. Eden carried a lot of mannerisms and features from you but those things? They definitely came from him.

He's not even halfway to the driver's side when you steal the keys that he had stolen from you when you were in the building. You've known each other for ten years, for three out of those ten you have been married and Spencer still thinks he can be slick with you.

“You're riding shotgun today, pretty boy.”

His eyes are filled with amusement as you walk by and give his butt a soft squeeze.

“Really?” He says, leaning on your window. You had already turned the engine on when you give him a serious look. “It's a long drive. You already drove all the way here.”

Giving him an eyeroll, you muse, “It's not that long, Spence. And you're tired. Just get in.”

Quantico wasn't far from your home, but ten minutes in the road was enough to send Eden to dreamland. You were certain she had fallen asleep when her humming to Angeleyes, that was playing on the car radio, stopped.

You suppose Spencer has fallen asleep as well, until you stole a glimpse at him during a red light to see he was just staring out the window. A far away gaze.

His mind was far. You could feel that. You two enjoy the silence but it's not like that. This is not the kind of silence you want to bask in after a tiring day of work. No, this is different. It comes with the type of things you face at work, the voices in your head that claim they know what's best.

You know that silence. You've drowned in it once.

A gentle breeze caused a few strands to slip out behind his ear. He was letting his hair grow longer again. You liked it, it suited him.

“Hey.”

Your knuckles grazed his cheek softly, tucking a piece of his hair behind his ear. Your hand lingered at the nape of his neck and he let out a sigh, leaning back in a way that you knew he needed that kind of touch.

Good thing your love language is physical touch.

“You want to talk to me about it?” A whisper.

Spencer refrained from a verbal answer, but he reached up for your hand, lifting it to his lips to place a prolonged kiss which translated to I'm glad to have you.

“Not now,” he said, caressing your palm. Definitely later then. Your communication can be non-verbal sometimes and that's one of the great parts of your relationship. You knew that some days words were hard, so the touch and the eyes fulfilled the void of a voice.

He gave it a delicate squeeze and that's when you realized the light had turned green, so your attention was back to driving.

At some point, you could feel a comforting weight at your right thigh. It was the familiar warmth of Spencer's hand, something that he liked to do whenever you drove. Good thing his love language is physical touch.

“I got her.” He practically leaped out of the vehicle once you parked, walking around the other side to get Eden.

Your asleep child didn't so much as flinch while being picked up. You caught her little arms embracing his neck as you locked the doors of your car, her shoes on your hand and Spencer's satchel on another. He tried to fight you on that but you just ignored him.

“Sleepy head,” you mouth to him as the elevator went up. Eden's big eyelashes fluttered lightly when you kissed the top of her head.

The corner of your husband's lips quirked up, “Just like her mother. Sleeps anywhere.” He said, not breaking eye contact, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

Rolling your eyes, you hummed, “Don't know what you're talking about.”

The apartment was quiet, an unusual occurrence at this time of the day. Normally, Eden would be rambling about her day when one of you arrived from work — I learnt about seagulls today and we made a drawing; grandma made cookies!; Teacher Susan read a story about a princess saving her kingdom, I want to be like her someday. Isn't it like what you do, mama? I want to be like you — a range of subjects mixed with her occasional endless energy of a child. Some nights, she wouldn't stop running around until she tired herself — and both of you — off.

Today was different. She was asleep before you even arrived home, it was way before 8 p.m and the apartment was quiet, no toys scattered around, no ink stain on the floor. She was into painting nowadays which is a rather messy hobby for a kid, but you'd indulge your daughter's wishes anytime. She is a kid, she should be messy.

“I love you, bub.” Your ears pick up Spencer's faint voice from the entrance of Eden's bedroom. You perched up at the wall, careful enough to make yourself unknown. Not wanting to disturb the little father-daughter moment. “I'll always be here.”

That was something that didn't need to be said out loud because Spencer showed that every day. He didn't spare love demonstrations regarding you or Eden, he never had. Although you know part of the reason beneath that promise. Some people haunt us forever, even when they are no longer present in our lives. His father still walks somewhere in the corner of his mind, no matter how many times you tell him that he is not him.

“Is the whole bathroom drenched or...?”

Spencer chuckled, seeking for your hand to pull you closer as you stride to your bedroom.

“It wouldn't be Eden if she didn't make an entire spectacle during bath time.” He said. “But I cleaned it up, so don't worry.”

“That's true.” You eye his soaked shirt attempting to contain a smile. “Guess you already took your shower?”

“You're so funny,” Spencer murmurs dryly.

“Yeah, well,” you shrug nonchalantly, slowly encircling your arms around his neck. “Wasn't that why you married me? Or was it for my good looks? Nah, it was definitely my terrific sense of humour, wasn't it?” A peck on his lips. “You can admit it. I won't be mad.”

“Ego the size of a lake, that one.” He mumbles, burying his face in the croak of your neck and practically locked you in his hold.

You started to message on his shoulders to ease whatever felt heavy in his chest. At least, until he let you in.

It wasn't until after you both showered separately to finally call it a day and laid down to rest that he broke his silence.

“A little girl died. We couldn't get to her in time.”

Oh, kids.

Now it all made sense.

A shiver went down your spine at the thought.

“Oh, Spencer...” if the tone of your voice translated anything, it was that you understood. His body was entangled to yours when you tried to diminish a bit of his pain by showing that you were there. “I'm sorry, sweetheart,” you said into his curls. The moist sensation in your pajamas top let you know he was crying, but you didn't give it a second thought. It was what he needed.

“I could only think of her and I—” he said shakily, suddenly leaning away to cover his face. “Any rational thinking went down the drain.” His croaked out, drying his tears in the harshest way possible. You pulled his hands away from his face, replacing it with your softer touch.

“Spencer.”

“I can't even— even grasp my head around—”

You cut him off, “good. Don't do that. Because it's not real. Spencer,” you cup his cheeks, forcing him to look at you so he could focus on something that wasn't the disruptives thoughts in his head. “Eden is here, in the room next to ours, safe and sound.” That seemed to calm him down lightly, but you could see the conflict in his gaze.

“I wasn't fast enough.”

“It was not your fault.”

“You weren't there.”

You sigh, “I don't need to physically be there to know that you, as well as the team, did your best to crack the case, Spencer. As you do in every other case we have.” The hardest part of this job was still the loss that you had to live with. The guilt. The shame that, despite doing your best, you wouldn't be able to save everyone. “As we always do.” Sometimes, you needed some convincing too.

“I know it's hard to believe what I'm saying,” you forehead was touching his and your eyes were shut. “but it's the truth. You have every reason to feel that way, it never gets easy to face what we face every day. But, Spencer. It was not your fault. You did what you could, please trust me on this, okay?” Please, don't blame yourself. You don't deserve it.

“Our little girl is right next door, sleeping with her favourite plushie. Safe. Because we make sure of that every single day.” You know it's not that simple, to not doubt the dangers that run in the world, probably in your street, but you can't live in fear and you don't want your daughter to live in fear either. “And I'm right here. we're not going anywhere.” You won't lose us.

“Yeah,” he croaks out, releasing a batted breath. “Yeah, I know.”

Slipping an arm around your middle to bring you closer was the indication you needed to understand that he was hearing your words. Your husband settled for accepting your warmth for the time being, you were playing with his curls, gently brushing them away from his face.

That's all he needed, really. You. The home and family you have build together. Nothing else.

“You know,” you say, thumb traveling across his jawline until it reached the tip of his nose. “People keep saying she has your nose and I think I'm starting to see it.”

His body shook with laughter, causing his eyes to crinkle slightly.

“Oh, really? You're starting to see it now?”

Your lips curled up at the edges, “Yes.” You lied, poking his ribs, earning a glare. Your smile only widened. “No. The nose is clearly yours.” He raised an eyebrow and shrugged.

Spencer leaned close enough so he could press his lips to yours.

“She has the outline of your mouth, though.” He tucked a strand behind your ear. “And your eyes.”

Soft padding against the floor pulled you out of your trance and you knew who was at the door before looking through the open space of the door that's been left ajar.

“Is that a ghost that I'm seeing, angel?”

You decided to enter Spencer's playful undertone.

“Mhm. Good question, I think that's definitely a squirrel or something. Look at the red and yellow paws.”

Eden's mismatched socks flashed your eyes in the dim light of your side table lamp. Her soft giggling made you smile instantly.

“What are you doing up, sweetheart?” She curled up to his bare chest as soon as he scooped her up to hold her on his hip. “Mhm?”

She grabbed both of his cheeks, forcing him to lean down so she could say something to him. You observed them with a curious gaze. “It's not a squirrel,” Eden whispered. Spencer's face broke out into a grin, “tell mama it's me.” Spencer nodded and dutifully did as asked.

“Oh!” You exclaimed, acting surprised. “It's you, bub? With these tiny socked feet, I almost didn't recognize.” Eden's shrieks as you pepper her whole face with kisses. “You want to sleep with mommy and daddy tonight?” It's your turn to whisper as if it's a secret, but it's loud enough for Spencer to hear it as well.

Eden nods shyly, resting her head on her dad's shoulder. Her feet wriggling lightly. Who could ever resist those sweet doe eyes?

The three of you then lay down in your bed, Eden engulfed between Spencer and you. Hopefully, she wouldn't kick and turn all night like she commonly did. She was sleeping through the entire night alone in her bedroom, though some nights — like today — she would sneak in to yours.

Just like you expected, the toddler fell into dreamland with your soft chatter about random things you did during the day and what you needed to do during the upcoming week. You cracked a smile at her slight parted lips and wild curls dispersed on your arm which her head was laid on.

“Thank you.”

Your attention drifts from a sleeping Eden to Spencer. His eyes carried their usual light again. They now glinted with a familiar pride rather than the heavy darkness it was drowning in earlier in the evening.

“What for?” Your whole demeanor softened at the way he was looking at you, heart swelling with love.

“This,” he says, eyes falling on Eden. “For this. Her. You.”

You blink, the sudden urge to cry is being hold back by a thread. You don't know how to react.

“You're the best thing that's ever happened to me.” And he's said that before. When you first confessed and he said he felt the same. In your wedding day. When Eden was born.

“And you are the best thing that's ever happened to me, Spencer.” You manage to whisper beneath the crack in your voice. He lifts his torso to kiss both of the single tears that slipped out of your eyelids, caressing your cheek lovingly. “I love you.”

“I love you too, angel.” His mouth stretches into a soft grin. “And I love the life we have built.”

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taglist: @lilyviolets

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A/N: will never forgive the show for not making this man a dad.

#spencer reid fanfiction #reader insert #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fluff #thinking of making this a series #spencer reid one shot #criminal minds imagine

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buckyalpine · 2 years

Note

Hey honey ! It’s 🐚 !! I have a request for you 🙈🥰 I love tough men that are assholes but turn soft for this one sweet girl ! And I was thinking Mafia Bucky and his rival’s daughter . He starts hooking up with her with every intention of her father finding out and being furious . But she’s none the wiser . She’s sweet and gentle with him even when he’s rough and rude . He always leaves the minute they’re done ,leaving her all alone and naked in her bed but she’s never bitter about it. After one particular night though , where they had sex in his place , she fell asleep , too worn out from Bucky being particularly rough . He took a moment to see her as something more than his nemesis daughter and he had to admit she was ethereal. Always sweet and kind . So much different than him and Bucky realized he might be falling for her . Especially with the way she was clinging to him in her sleep and how she never treated him like he was the bad guy . When he woke up she wasn’t there but everything changed after that night . The sex was gentler and so were his touches and kisses . He wasn’t just hooking up with her . He was making love to her without a word about this new change in their situationship . Until one night he had her in his arms , unafraid to cradle her cheek and kiss her forehead , telling her how he is in love with her and asking her to forgive him for the way he treated her

18+

Okay I’m dropping a bunch of WIPS for this. Bruh the request alone gave me butterflies I love this trope so much. Goddamnn.

This starts with very fuck boy asshole type Bucky. I made him a dick in this, deal with it, don’t cry about it, he redeems himself. See how the request says men that are assholes. I live for it. Bucky. Is. An. Ass. Hole. And a sweet baby by the end.

Also I don’t trust google translate but that’s what we have to work with, I am so sorry.

“You’re making this harder than it has to be Stark” Bucky sipped his drink, leaning back in his chair while Tony’s jaw clenched, wishing he could just put a bullet in between his rivals eyebrows. Bucky swirled the whisky in his glass, the ice clinking against each other while Tony rejected his proposal again, tensions growing higher with each passing minute.

“You’re not getting control over the South” He gritted through his teeth, ready to end the meeting one way or another until the door clicked open. You poked your head into his office, quickly padding over to his side, ignoring the broody men that surrounded the office.

“Dad, I’m going out with Wanda, we’ll be back late, is that okay?” You never left the house without telling him where you were going first, it was a rule he made for you when you were younger but you stuck to it even years later. You knew he always worried about you.

Tony frowned at your presence, not because he didn’t want you there but because he could see the other men stare at you, their eyes raking up and down your body like fresh meat. The dark material of your dress hugged your body perfectly and the thigh high slit wasn’t helping.

“Be safe” He pecked your forehead before sending one of his men with you, “Barton, drive her there” He shot the men in his office a death glare; he was patient over many things but you were not something they could fuck with. Ever. Bucky cocked an eyebrow noticing Tony’s shift in demeanor, he was protective over his little princess. He smiled to himself with this new information, why fight for the south side when he could he could ruin something more precious.

“This meeting is over” Tony stated, nodding to his men to escort Bucky and the others out. He narrowed his eyes at the way Bucky shrugged, casually downing his drink without making a counter argument, leaving a bit to easily for his liking.

Bucky climbed into his SUV with Steve by his side, his mind going back to you. Tony’s sweet baby. His protected princess. Steve also frowned at the way his friend accepted defeat, but he didn’t ask questions, noticing the way Bucky bit his lip, the wheels in his head clearly turning. The fucker had something in mind.

“You’re thinking something, I can tell” Steve gave Bucky a pointed look while Bucky shrugged innocently, earning an eye roll from his best friend.

“I need a drink”

The Club

Bucky sat at the private booth of the club, his mind calculating how he could over throw Stark without having to get his hands too dirty. He already had one idea in mind but that was more to satisfy himself. It wouldn’t get him his territory but it would get him something...better...He sipped his drink, sitting up slightly, seeing a familiar figure across the club, his lips curling into a smirk.

“Isn’t that her” Bucky’s eyes landed on you, watching your hips sway on the dance floor, laughing with your friends, completely in your own world. It couldn't have been more perfect, you were right there, practically served to him on a silver platter for him to take.

“Who” Steve turned around to see who Bucky was looking at, his eyes growing wide when he realized who his friend was eyeing. “Starks daughter?”

Bucky nodded, setting his glass down, making his way over to you before Steve or Sam could say anything else.

“Why is he not on a leash”

“I knew I should have gotten him neutered”

The blonde shook his head, running a hand over his face while Sam snorted, both men watching him make his way over to you. You were now seated at the bar, sipping on some water to cool down while your friends stayed on the dancefloor.

“Hey doll” Bucky sat on the stool beside you, both of you tucked away in the quieter corner of the bar area. He could tell by the way you smiled shyly, you’d be easy, a few flirty words and he’d get what he wanted.

“Hi” You blushed at the handsome mob boss, his blue eyes sparkling as he smirked at you. He bought you a drink, luring you into him like a siren. You found yourself getting lost in his charm, listening to his velvety smooth voice. Truthfully it was nice to talk to someone for once. Most guys avoided you, knowing you were the daughter of Tony Stark.

It was easy for him. His eyes flicked to the way you looked at his lips, inching closer towards him, your sweet innocent face gazing at him. He didn’t have to do much are you were already preening like a kitten. He had you exactly where he wanted. The air shifted when his hand grazed you thigh, the cold metal of his rings making you shiver. You didn’t pull back, letting his hand climb higher, leaning into his touch, your heart racing, craving more of him.

“Tell me if you want me to stop” His voice was low, his lips brushing by your ear. Your breath hitched when his hand tilted your chin up to meet his eyes again, nearly whimpering when his hand squeezed the soft flesh of your thigh.

“So needy” He smirked while you nodded, not trusting yourself to speak, letting him take you by the hand to the private bathroom of the club. As soon as he locked the door, his previous charm dropped. His eyes darkened, his hands immediately all over you, pushing you against the marble counter of the sink. His lips smashed onto yours, tongue and teeth, not giving you a chance to breathe.

He sucked dark bruises on your neck, trailing the across your collar bone, pulling the front of your dress down to free your breasts. He lifted you onto the counter with ease, latching onto your nipple, tugging it between his teeth, smirking at the way you cried out.

He parted your legs, ripping your panties off and stuffing them in his pocket. Your pussy dripped, clenching around nothing at the sound of his belt buckle and pants unzipping, moaning when he pulled your thighs to wrap around him, his cockhead prodding your entrance. He didn't bother prepping you, his mind focused on stuffing his cock into you and fucking you senseless.

“Shh, better keep quiet unless you want others to hear how I’m about to fuck you” He growled against your skin, shoving his cock into you with one stroke. He gave you no time to adjust, snapping his hips against you, his hands gripping your ass while your hands flew to clutch around him, sinking your teeth into his shoulder to keep your screams down. He slammed against your g-spot, your arousal squirting out of you with each thrust, the coil in your belly building higher and higher as he fucked you harder.

“I-I’m gonna-” You couldn’t formulate a sentence, clawing at his blazer, his cock filling and stretching you, ruining you for anyone else. “Please-

“Don’t-don’t talk, just take it” His voice was low, teeth gritted as he focused on ruining your pussy. You felt flustered, your body on fire each time he touched you. You felt yourself melt into him, letting him toy with your body. His fingers gripped onto your ass, slamming you into him to meet his strokes. He wanted to fill you up till you were so full of cum, it’d drip and stain onto your bed sheets. All of his fucking cum painted on your pussy while you went to sleep, pretending to be an innocent little princess like you didn’t just take your dad’s rivals cock in the bathroom of the club.

Your eyes rolled back feeling his cock stroke your g-spot, the roughness of his hands on your body making you climb higher, you clung onto him, your body pulled taut, a sob escaping your lips before muffling your cries by biting down onto his neck as you came. Bucky smirked to himself, pounding you harder, chasing his release. He didn’t even have to touch you and you were coming undone for him, wrapped tightly around his body, your pussy sucking him back in.

He could feel pleasure crawl down his spine, his cock growing harder, something about getting to fuck his enemies daughter made him more feral than ever, his cock bursting with cum, endless thick streams shooting out of his sensitive tip.

“Fuck” he hissed, pumping his load into you, groaning as he pulled out, his cum dribbling out of you, spilling onto the sides of your thighs. You looked dazed, lipstick smeared, panting, your body limp against him. He tucked his cock back in, not looking back twice, leaving you a panting mess as he exited the bathroom. You stood on shaky legs, trying to steady yourself before grabbing a damp tissue to clean yourself up.

You splashed some water onto your face, your mind reeling over the way his touches made you feel, touching up your makeup before going back down to find your friends, his handsome face flashing in your mind throughout the night.

***

“Can you explain what it is you’re doing here” Steve watched his friend carefully, his hair disheveled, shirt untucked, a lipstick stain on the collar of his shirt when he joined them again, a satisfied smirk on his face.

“She’s probably a spoiled brat anyway” Bucky shrugged, unbothered about the type of person you were or how you felt about any of this. He wanted to see Tony’s face if he knew he had fucked his daughter, balls deep till she was walking around with sticky thighs, her soaked little cunt dripping all over her bed with his cum. He smirked to himself over the way you moaned for him, biting him to keep yourself quiet, the way your body responded to him, so needy and desperate. You were the opposite of your father; easy and none the wiser. If he couldn’t get what he wanted from Tony, he’d take the next best thing. It’s not like he wanted you. He just had to use you.

The club wasn’t enough. Now he had you in his hands, he wasn’t going to let you go until he you were ruined. He used the meetings that took place in your house to his advantage, quietly sneaking off down the hall way to find you. Your heart jumped seeing him leaning against wall as you made your way to your room after eating breakfast.

“Haven’t stopped thinking about me, have you” He smirked, cornering you against the wall, his chest pressed against yours. His hands came up to grasp your face, eyes locked with yours “You gonna let me cum in you?”

You let out a shuddered breath, and that was all he needed, dragging you over to your room and tossing you onto your bed.

“Take your clothes off” His cold blue eyes bore into you as you timidly unbuttoned your blouse, your hands shaking, already feeling exposed at the way he watched you. He wasn’t going to wait for you, striding over to the bed, his hands firmly gripping the material of your silky blouse, ripping it open, sending buttons flying onto the floor. His hands grabbed at the hem of your skirt, pulling it down before quickly tossed your bra and panties aside.

Your face heated up at the way he slowly crawled on top of you, the scent of his cologne throwing you back to the way he fucked you at the club, pulling pleasure from your body so easily.

“Please” Your soft eyes pleaded with his and his ego shot through the roof, getting to fuck you right on your bed. He nudged your thighs apart while marking you with his mouth.

“Always ready for my cock” He hummed, smearing your slick around, shoving two thick fingers into you, curling and scissoring them till you were withering and nearly screaming, your arousal leaving your sheets wet.

“James please” You looked at him with glassy eyes while he sat back, unbuttoning his pants, freeing his cock just enough so he could fuck you. He rubbed his cock onto your clit before shoving it into you, pounding you relentlessly as soon as he was fully sheathed inside you.

Your body moved to wrap around him, your legs tight around his waist and arms clinging onto his shoulders. All you could do was moan and chant his name, his cock was practically in your throat, thrusting into you till your bed scrapped against the floor. His chest swelled with pride as soon as he felt your walls start to convulse and flutter, you were so responsive to him.

“Cum, fucking cum on my cock” His hand snaked up to wrap around your throat, your pussy immediately clenching and throbbing around him, silent screams leaving through your slack jaw. His grunts grew louder, thrusting harder into you until he couldn’t hold back, determined to make a bigger mess than before.

“Take it, fucking-take it, take my cum” He grunted, groaning as his hips stilled, staying as deep as he possibly could while he poured his load into you. His cum spilled out of you, soaking the sheets, your greedy sopping hole, still fluttering even after he pulled out.

Perfect.

You were still hazy, blinking when you felt his body weight off the bed, sitting up slightly to see him already making his way towards your door.

“Oh-bye!”

Bucky clicked the door shut before you could even finish, leaving you bare and alone in your bed. You fell back against the sheets, your body worn and exhausted. You didn’t mind the soreness that you felt all over, sleep washing over you as you thought about his honeyed voice, those blue eyes, rough exterior. There was more to him even if he didn’t show it.

It went on for weeks. You were his perfect little cum dump, taking load after load, whenever he wanted. Your room. The kitchen. On the floor. He almost found it pathetic, how easily you let him back into your warmth when he never looked back at your twice after. It didn’t matter though. He got what he wanted.

Gala night

You sighed, sitting by yourself while everyone else mingled with their respective groups, you’d never been a fan of parties but you didn’t have much of a choice. You had to make an appearance at the gathering hosted by one of your families allies though you didn’t understand why. No one had even noticed you.

Well not exactly no one.

Bucky’s eyes lingered on you as he watched you across the room from his table. You hadn’t spoken to a soul all night, nervously fidgeting with your fingers, sipping on you glass of wine, the red liquid staining your lips. You wore a dark green dress, your legs on display with the thigh high slit and the sweet heart neckline showing off your perfect cleavage.

“Y/n” A son of your fathers friend wandered over, his hungry eyes flicking from your lips to your chest and up and down your legs. He noticed that you were alone, deciding to use the chance to get what he had been craving. He pulled up a seat beside you, sitting close enough so his legs brushed against yours.

“John” You smiled softly, internally wishing you had just stayed home. He had asked you out a number of times before and you always politely turned him down. Bucky narrowed his eyes at the blond who kept inching closer and closer to you, his hands trying to linger on your skin, lips whispering in your ear.

“You look beautiful. Did anyone accompany you?” He knew the answer but that didn’t matter. You shook your head and he grinned “You know you could have asked me sweets, I would have been happy to” He moved his hands to rest on your knee, slowly moving up to your thigh.

Your body jerked back, pulling away as if his touch burned your skin. His touch didn’t feel like Bucky’s. His eyes grew cold, it irritated him that you were so sweet and pathetically innocent yet unfazed by his attempts to seduce you; you’d never given into him.

“I-I appreciate that but I wanted to come alone” You didn’t want to upset him though you were very close to dumping a glass of wine on his head. Bucky’s jaw clenched at the way your body froze, discomfort evident on your face as he continued to try and paw at you.

Bucky didn’t like you.

Or care for you.

But you were still his to ruin and he wasn’t going to let someone stop that.

Is what he told himself as he shot out of his seat making his way to your table while Steve and Sam gave each other amused glances. Your eyes lit up as you saw Bucky taking long strides towards you, pulling you out of your seat and wrapping his arm around your waist without looking at you once. His eyes were trained on the blond that wordlessly glared back at him, not willing to argue with the mob moss as he walked away with you.

“I want to leave” You whispered up at him, craving to be touched by him, and forget the feeling of Walkers hands on you.

“Let’s get out of here” He tugged your wrist, dragging you into his SUV, tossing you in the back. You waited for him to get in, snuggling into his side when he slid in beside you, gasping when he gripped your cheeks, smashing his lips onto yours. There was nothing but tongue and teeth as he claimed you, biting and nipping at your lips, his hands grasping your waist to pull you closer.

“Home” He nodded to his driver before practically pulling you onto his lap, closing the divider as he sucked on your pulse point. He never brought women over to his place, given his line of work, he didn’t take the risk. But right now, his needs over threw that logic as he told the driver to take him home, ready to take you apart on his bed.

He hardly let you breathe the entire car ride, his tongue laced with yours, fingers tugging your hair, while your hands came down to grasp at his shirt. He broke away when the car stopped in front on the driveway, his hunger to have you wrapped around him growing stronger.

“Come here” He pulled you out of the car, carrying you in with your legs wrapped around his waist. He took you straight to his room, kicking the door closed, holding you up with one arm before locking it and setting you down. He threw his suit jacket off before turning you around and unzipping your dress, letting it fall and pool around you feet, leaving you in your underwear.

He groaned at the dark sheer lace that hugged your body, cupping your perfect breasts, your sweet pussy hardly covered by the tiny material of your panties.

“On your knees” He commanded, unbuttoning his pants, pulling his cock out, rubbing the tip onto your lips, making them glossy. You licked off his precum, moaning up at him while he gripped your hair back, the other hand holding onto your jaw. “Open”

He shoved his cock down your throat, guiding your face up and down his length, throbbing as you gagged and choked on him. His thumbs swiped over the tears that spilled down your cheeks, moaning at how wrecked you looked.

“So fucking perfect, sucking my cock like a the little slut you are” He groaned, “otsosi mne, printsessa”

Every whine and moan that you made went straight to his cock, twitching, dribbling arousal down your throat. He pulled you off, not willing to just cum in your mouth, not when his balls felt heavy, his cock desperate to be inside you. He carried you over to the bed, dropping you and ripping your lingerie off before stripping all his clothes off and crawling on top of you.

You let out a soft gasp at his complete bare form. He had never taken all his clothes off before, you couldn’t help but let your eyes wander from his thick muscular thighs, dripping cock, perfect chest and handsome face, he was beautiful all over.

“James?” You blinked as he paused between your legs, the greedy side of him desperate to taste you, something he had denied himself thus far. Until tonight. You always smelled so sweet. He was going to make sure he touched and claimed every part of your body. “James, what are you-ohmygod!”

You gasped as he dove into your folds, his mouth unrelenting, sucking and swirling his tongue while he shoved two fingers into you, pumping them in and out, making your moans grow louder. He looked up at your squirming form, your head thrown back, thighs trembling and squeezing around his head.

“I-I’m gonna-fuckfuck-please-P-PLEASE”

He smirked against your clit, slapping the side of your thigh before sucking with more pressure and shoving a third finger in you, throwing you over the edge. Your juices spilled out of you, soaking his face, your scent and arousal covering his beard.

He didn’t give you any time to recover from you high, grasping your ankles and flipping you over, shoving your face down and bringing your ass up, his cock rubbing up and down your cunt.

“moya malen'kaya shlyushka“ He mumbled to himself, spanking your ass making you cry out. “Take it princess” He spanked you again, rubbing the sting away before grasping the soft flesh, squeezing it in his hands.

“Bet he would have loved to have you like this, hm?”

“Who?” Your brain couldn’t function, focused on his length pressed against you,

“Your little boy toy who wanted you attention so badly, ty shlyukha“ His fingers gripped tightly, humping and rutting his cock against you while you mewled, desperate for him to do something, “You ever let him put his cock in you?”

“N-no” You whined, as his hand gripping your ass further, guiding his cock to your fluttering entrance. A satisfied smirk graced his lips as he slammed into you, pulling your hips back to meet his thrusts, groaning at the way you cried out at the stretch. The sounds of his skin slapping on yours echoed through the room, nearly drowning out your muffled cries.

“Yeah, you know why baby? Cause your my little slut, my fucking cum dump” He wanted to ruin you so fucking badly, your pussy would never be the same, his hand snaking down to tug your hair for leverage to fuck you harder. “That’s all your fucking good for, to take my loads, give me something warm, tight and wet to cum in”

“F-uck! JAMES” He fucked you at an animalistic pace, moving to grip onto the headboard, his brows furrowed, keeping your face buried against the mattress.

“Such a well fucked hole, look-look at how you’re greedy cunt is swallowing my cock”

“P-PLEASE JAMES!” You had tears in your eyes, overwhelmed with pleasure, the overstimulation consuming your body. You could hardly focus on anything, your hands blindly searching for something to hold on to. You could tell if you wanted more or less, your belly tightening again, ready to cum for a second time.

“Shut up and take it” He growled, his hips snapping wildly, the headboard cracking under his grip. Your tears spurred him on, his cock growing harder, ruined on his bed, crying out for him. He moved one hand to shove his fingers into your mouth, moaning when he felt your pussy clench, shoving them deeper.

Your body always responded to him perfectly, he couldn’t hold on any longer, his balls heavy and tight, ready to fill you with his cum.

“Ready for my cum, princess? Open that little pussy up for me, m’gonna fill you so much, it’ll squirt out of you, make my cock creamy princess, dirty messy slut” You could feel every vein and ridge of his cock against your sensitive walls, your arousal making his balls wet eat time they slapped your clit. “Say it, say you want my fucking cum”

“I want your cum!” You slurred out, waiting for his warmth to flood you.

“Who, whose cum do you fucking want” His head was thrown back, cock starting to twitch, the tip swollen and sensitive.

“Yours daddy”

That did it, you were too fucked out to even register what you had just called him but Bucky hear it loud and clear. It unleashed something in him, giving you 3 harsh sloppy thrusts before he couldn’t hold off any longer.

“Shit-FUCK-hng fuuuckkkk” His movements stilled, his cock throbbing, spilling his cum into you. He gave you a few more sloppy thrusts, emptying himself before pulling out and pushing his sensitive cock into you again, rolling you over so he could see your fucked out face. He had to stop himself from lapping up your soaked pussy with his mixed arousal, his cock ready to fuck his cum back into you as it dripped out.

“I’m not done with you”

****

Your body was limp on the bed, panting, soreness and bruises littering your skin. He had thrown you around in every position, pulling pleasure from your body as if it satiated his hunger. He pumped you full of his loads, not leaving one part of you untouched, his hands, tongue and cock caressing your body.

After the last round, he had gotten up to splash some water on his face, his body covered in sweat, his spent cock soaked in your mixed arousal. He wasn’t a stranger to rough sex but even he felt worn out, having thrown you around like a ragdoll to his content, cumming in you until he couldn't anymore.

As he walked back, Bucky blinked, seeing your curled up form on his bed, snuggled in his sheets.

That wasn’t part of his plan.

He didn’t intend on letting you fall asleep.

He couldn’t help but slip under the covers, too exhausted to think about if this was appropriate or not, waves of sleep crashing over him. He swallowed thickly when you shifted in your sleep, snuggling into his side, seeking his warmth, your arm hugging his waist, head resting on his chest. He tried to shuffle over but you clung onto him in your sleep, tucking yourself against him as much as you could, letting out a small whine whenever he moved.

Your body felt to soft and warm on him. He had never taken the time to really look at you, but as you laid on his chest, his eyes flicked across your face, taking in your features.

Your lashes fluttering against your cheeks. The pout of your lips. The soft curve of your jaw. There was no doubt you were beautiful but there was also something ethereal. Angelic.

Almost...precious.

It almost felt wrong for him to touch something so sweet and delicate.

He could smell the soft scent of your shampoo.

His eyes drifted to the bruises that covered your body.

The ones he marked you with.

The ones he never paid attention to before.

The ones he should have kissed and massaged- no. No...No?

You were nothing more than a means to an end...but he couldn't stop himself from stroking your skin, while holding you close. His hand trailed down softly to trace down your spine, making you shiver, nuzzling against him further. He couldn’t understand how even in your sleep, you were sweet. Trusting. You wanted to be wrapped in his warmth. He thought about the way you looked up at him when he tugged you from the party. The way you stayed on his lap the entire care ride home.

He thought about how he left without looking back each time but you were always so warm whenever he came back. Soft. His body moved on its own, pulling the sheets up to cover you, pressing a delicate kiss onto your head.

What was going on with him.

The next morning

He blinked awake, frowning at the coldness of the bed. You had left at some point during the night, so quietly he didn’t even notice. He felt....disappointed. He wasn’t even sure why. He missed the way you fit in his arms. The way you slept so soundly while cuddled up with him.

Something changed after that night. He sought your warmth, not just your body. He wanted to feel you wrapped around him, your arms clinging to be closer, your adorable little disgruntled sounds whenever he shifted while you slept on his chest. The way your voice soothed him. It wasn’t hooking up or just fucking anymore. It was softer each time. More sweet words. Lingering touches. He’d stay longer just to hear your honeyed voice, talking about anything, it didn’t matter. He knew this was no longer just him trying to get back at your father.

He had fallen for you.

He never thought he’d be capable of that type of affection, yet with you he had his first taste of sweetness and he didn’t want to let go.

A few weeks later - His room

“Come here” He pulled you close to him, his hands softly caressing your body feeling every bit of you as he laid with you on his bed. He peppered soft kisses onto your face, making up for all the times he should have kissed you before, your skin felt like soft silk on his lips.

He pushed himself into you slowly, for the first time, feeling all of you wrapping him in your warmth. He’d been inside you so many times before but now he actually felt you. Your sweet body under his, trusting him to take care of you.

He couldn’t hurt you, you were so precious.

His hands gently held onto you, rocking his hips slowly, savoring every second.

You knew something was different. He knew something was different.

“James, don’t stop, p-pleaase”

“I won’t stop baby, I won’t”

“Don’t let go”

“I’ll never let go malyshka, prekrasnaya printsessa”

He was making the softest sweetest love to you and you clung onto his body never wanting it to end. He held you gently as you came undone for him, slowly thrusting into you as he reached his high. His touch was so delicate, you would have almost missed it.

He didn’t say a word about what had just happened.

He thought he could ignore it, go back to how things were but when he was still throbbing in you, unable to stop how much he was cumming for you, it was impossible. His body weight fell on you, still grinding and rutting his cock, moaning into your neck. He nearly sounded like he was in pain, overstimulating himself with your sweetness.

“James?” You cupped his face, making him look at you, your thumb caressing his scruffy cheek. “Is everything okay?”

“You feel good baby” he whispered, resting his forehead onto yours. “You feel go so good”

“James what’s wrong” Your voice was more firm this time, cocking your head, waiting for him to tell you what was on his mind. His eyes were glassy, pushing some of your hair back, his thumb stroking your forehead.

“You’re an angel” He gazed down at you, swallowing the lump that formed in his throat, how did he ever think about using you.

“Baby, where’s this coming from?”

He stroked your hair, his heart sinking at your confused expression. He didn’t even know where to start. “I- he huffed in frustration, how could he look you in the eye and tell you what his intentions were. “I-I don’t deserve you” He shook his head, biting his lip, unable to meet your eyes. He rolled you both over so you rested on his chest, your doe eyes waiting for him to continue.

“Why?” The flash of hurt that crossed your face made his heart jump, he never wanted to be the cause of your pain.

“Because angel, you’ve always been sweet. Kind. Affectionate. I didn’t treat you the way you deserved. I left you on your on every night when I should have held you. Made love to you, not bruised you skin”

His voice had slowly dropped to a whisper, his heart racing. You could see tears well in his eyes, his hands trembling on your skin while he rubbed your back.

“You’re precious angel, I can’t believe I ever treated you otherwise. You deserved love from the start” He let the tears roll down his cheeks, full prepared for you to up and leave, he knew he wasn’t worthy of you at all. And yet...he couldn’t stop the next words that slipped past his lips.

“YA tebya lyublyu” You blinked up at him while he smiled softly, sniffling, cupping your cheek, brining you closer to him “I love you”

“You love me?” You could fee your heart hammer in your chest, as you inched closer, your nose bumping against his, your thumb wiping his tears.

“I do moya sladkaya malyshka” He kissed your forehead, then nose, and the softest kiss to your lips. “Please forgive me babygirl, please” His eyes were pleading with you, ready to give you the world in your hands if that’s what you wanted. You nodded, snuggling into his hold while he wrapped you tight, hoping he’d be able to have you just like this for the rest of his life. His sweet girl.

“I love you James”

“Say it again baby” He whispered, wanting to hear those words from you over and over again.

“I love you” you smiled against his skin, while he kissed your head.

“My sweet doll” He adored you so much. “Say it again”

After secret dating and sneaking around for as long as you could

Now given that Bucky is your fathers rival, you can imagine it isn’t exactly the easiest thing to bring up. Tony is not immediately on board. At all.

Until he sees you both one day when you both think no one’s looking. He’s a little taken aback at how soft Bucky is for you. Who knew such a jackass could also be such a gentleman.

Your both outside in your garden; you thought your dad had gone out for meetings for the day. Bucky has you on his lap, feeding you berries with kisses in between each bite. He can’t take his eyes off you, nose nuzzled against your cheek, cuddling you under the warm sun. He can’t stop smiling and looking at you with heart eyes, his hands playing with your hair.

Clint snorts, watching Tony narrow his eyes at you both while watching you from his office. He so badly wants to shoot Bucky because again, how dare this cocky jack ass come to his house and woo his babygirl, fuck no.

But also...

You looked so happy.

“They’re cute, huh” Clint joined Tony’s side, smirk down at your both.

“Shut up”

He wants to go down and tell the mob boss to get his hands off his daughter but you laugh and snuggle into Bucky further.

“It’s been months boss, she’s the only one he’s been with, I hate to say it but it looks like he really loves her. And she loves him”

“Why do you know this”

“You’re not the only one who keeps tabs on her, she’s everyone little princess” Clint rolled his eyes, knowing the way all of Tony’s men cared for you like their own. Tony grunts, leaving to pour himself a taaaallll glass of whisky.

He wasn’t Bucky’s number 1 fan but for his little princess, he will allow it. There’s no doubt that Bucky loves you almost more than him. If you were a princess at home, Bucky treats you like a queen. You’d always be protected. Cared for.

Bucky comes directly to Tony all on his own, asking for your hand. Yes, its an outdated practice but he respects Tony and wants him to know his intentions are to love you and take care of you. He knows how much it would mean to you for father to say yes.

It’s a long discussion. Lots of differences put aside. Alliances formed.

Tony still thinks Bucky is a jackass but he can’t help but smile at the happy squeals he hears down the hall when Bucky goes straight to you to ask you to marry him.

A sweet intimate wedding. Not exactly small, but only people you both care for are there. Steve and Sam spend the entire time at the altar with shit eating “I told you so” grins.

(Tony’s wedding present is the south side)

Your first son, Steve Anthony Barnes is spoiled beyond reason by literally everyone. Steve and Sam compete with Tony and Clint and it’s done nothing but get on your nerves because you’d need a second house with how many presents he gets for no reason at all.

Your baby girl, Rebecca Samantha Barnes is daddy’s little princess. (Bucky will never, ever in his life admit he now understands how Tony felt over you. He kicks himself every so often and spoils you as much as he can)

The twins, Clinton and Natalia can only be left together for so long before they get up to mischief. Which is every minute of the day. Steve confirmed that dealing with illegal shipments was less terrorizing. Everyone agreed.

And of course with each day, Bucky is still head over heals in love with you.

Tags:

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 months

Text

Dirty Work 38

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: I've been awake since 2am.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

After breakfast, you get ready to go into town with Frigga and Hela upon their vaunted ladies’ trip. An air of uncertainty persists around what exactly that means. Flowers, shopping, and what else?

You try not to let the mystery overshadow the Odinsons’ hospitality. You’d hate to come across ungrateful after all they’d done. Odin and Frigga hadn’t asked for anything in return all while receiving you with an open hand. Just like with all things, you go along to get along.

The drive has you in a sort of trance as you watch the landscape pass. The lush greens and speckles of violet and pink across the fields, thickening to looming forest of coniferous pines and towering oaks. Finally, the wilds thin into even ground and open into a township with a painted wooden sign.

The buildings are old but well-kept. Not like the large city with its pitted brick and steaming sewers. Every street here is like those that surround Laufeyson’s own estate. Curated and pristine. Just like the Odinsons themselves.

You pull in at a large gated lot. The iron barrier is overgrown with flowers and as you enter, you gape around at the expanse of petals and stems. You’ve never been anywhere so spectacular.

You trail behind Frigga as she browses the selection. You shy away from Hela but she’s hardly concerned with you as she admires a bunch of dark roses. You peer around as an assistant approaches at Frigga’s signal.

“What do you think, dear?” Frigga calls to you, “we want white for the event. Lilies, baby’s breath, gardenia?”

You blink and give some thought, “what about daisies?”

She smiles, “daisies, so simple but pretty.” She turns to the assistant, “do you have many?”

“We should have a few boxes ready for delivery,” she answers.

“Wonderful, we will have some daisies. Oh, and we could have some wisteria hanging. Mm, and miss, white tulips? You have those too?”

The assistant scribbles on her pad, “we can do those as well.”

“Hydrangea,” Hela insists as she approaches, standing behind you, “for the posts.”

“Yes, certainly, hydrangea,” Frigga repeats with a sharp point to the assistant. “Oh and lastly, I spoke with Val about the moonflowers, tell me they’re ready.”

“Yes, Mrs. Odinson, we have those set aside already.”

“Good, good,” Frigga remarks, “well, we’ll look around a bit more and let you know if anything else is required.”

“Yes, Mrs. Odinson,” the assistant nods and prompts strolls away.

“You wouldn’t like a splash of red, mother? Maybe some black?” Hela muses, “this Walpurgisnacht will be blinding.”

“Oh, tosh,” Frigga dismisses, “we have a theme. Which reminds me, darling,” she turns to you, “do you have a white dress packed?”

“White?” You blink, “um, no, I didn’t…”

“Not to worry, it’s why we came to town,” she tweets.

“Oof, mother,” Hela cringes.

“Well, I know you certainly don’t have suitable attire,” Frigga reproaches.

“Actually, I’ve a marvelous white jumpsuit selected for just the event,” Hela challenges, “I can listen, I just often choose not to.”

Frigga gives a pinch look before she returns her attention to you, “well then, our task will be easier. I think chiffon might be nice…”

“You know, mother, I do feel as if I’m being replaced,” Hela snickers. You send her a guilty look but her smile holds no malice. She winks and arches a brow. “And yet I do think this little creature will look delectable in white.”

“Mm, yes,” Frigga side-eyes her daughter, “you do have a way with words, don’t you?”

“Oh, pardon me, I should be more like my brothers, would you prefer Thor,” Hela mocks and reaches for your hand, taking it as she caresses it emphatically, “oh lady, you are beautiful, I should wonder if what you hide under your skirt is equally as stunning–”

“Hel,” Frigga exclaims, mortified as she snatches her grasp away from you.

“Ah, alright, Loki,” Hela clears her throat and stiffens her posture, adjusting a non-existent tie, “yes, you are rather adequate. Hm, very acceptable.”

“Don’t,” Frigga commands, “you didn’t have to come if you’re only going to make a joke of it.”

“Oh, mother, that’s simply what it is, a joke,” Hela bats her lashes, “loosen up. Is that not what this day is for? To enjoy ourselves?”

Frigga sighs and shakes her head as she turns away. Your mouth slants as you watch after her nervously. Hela clucks and flicks her fingers dismissively, “once she has a taste of wine, she’ll let go.”

✨

You stand in the fitting room, staring dreadfully at the two hangers. One chosen by Frigga, the other by Hela. They are both beautiful but you’re not certain either of them suit you. You feel the long chiffon as you mull over the choice.

“Well, darling, let us see,” Frigga calls through the curtain.

You wince and recoil. You pull down the longer of the two, the flowy chiffon that caught Frigga’s eye. The one-shoulder cut cinches to draped skirt which drowns you. You look at yourself in the mirror and frown. The fabric seems to drown you.

You turn with a swish and pull back the curtain, stepping through awkwardly as you tug the skirt out of the way of your feet. Hela makes a noise somewhere between a snort and a gasp. Frigga fawns and daintily touches her cheeks.

“Oh, gods, that is gorgeous, isn’t it?” She comes forward and pinches a fold in the skirt.

“She looks like she’s caught in a snowstorm,” Hela muses, “please, she won’t be able to do much in all that.”

“I suppose,” Frigga backs up and folds her arms, “but I like the style, perhaps we might find something similar with less length.”

“Try mine,” Hela demands.

You look between them, not daring to argue with either. They seem to do enough of that. You spin and sweep behind the curtain once more. You shed the chiffon layers and pull on the satin sheath. There isn’t much to it. Thin straps and not much length, a slit up your thigh. It’s more lingerie than a dress.

You peek out shyly before you make yourself come out. Frigga’s face flushes and her lips part. Hela smirks and tilts her head as she bites her lip.

“Oh, fabulous,” Hela remarks.

“She cannot wear that,” Frigga throws a hand up.

“Why not, she has nice legs.”

“That isn’t… appropriate.”

“Well, mother, she can’t dress like an old matron either.”

“It was a perfectly nice dress–”

“For 1912,” Hela shoots back.

You shrink before them and let their back and forth fade into the background. You glance over the rack of white garments and zone out. You just want this to be over. You’re tired of being pulled back and forth like a game of tug-of-war.

Your name draws you back and you focus on the women watching you. You wince and teeter on your feet, “sorry, I was distracted.”

“I was saying,” Hela intones, “we should let you choose.”

“Me?” You blanch.

“Well, it is your dress,” Frigga utters reluctantly.

“Oh, but I… don’t know much about… clothes.”

“Never too late to learn,” Hela insists, “go on, have your pick. Surprise us.”

You glance back at the rack and wiggle your fingers. You slowly approach as the two other women retreat, still muttering to each other. You push through the hangers; too heavy, too stiff, too sheer.

You think you like this one. A simple sheath lining with a mesh overlay, little crepe flowers sewn into the out later. The straps are slender but the bodice is straight cut. It’s wonderful and dreamy. You take the hanger and quickly scurry back behind the curtain.

You switch out the short dress for your pick. You look at your reflection and nearly stagger. You love it. It’s adorable. You go to the curtain and brace yourself. What if they don’t like it? You exhale and ready yourself for disappointment.

You step through and the women face you. Neither say a word as they look at you. They consider you, eyeing you head to toe. Oh no! It’s hideous, isn’t it? You have no taste.

“I love it,” Hela chirps, “what about you, mother? Isn’t it gorgeous on her?”

“I… it’s so… you,” Frigga squeals, “yes, it’s perfect. And the little flowers. Ugh, amazing.”

“Really?” You stand on your toes nervously.

“You must have it,” Hela insists, “next, shoes… the pairing must be perfect.”

“Shoes…” you murmur. Does it ever end?

✨

Your day doesn’t end after the boutique. The tumultuous night slumps in your shoulders and droops in your eyelids as the hours stretch on. Your next stop is a sleek white building with sparkling glass doors. As you enter, the sterile lobby has you minimizing yourself in fear of staining the pure white tile or breaking the crystal counter.

Frigga and Hela strut towards the woman who stands behind the glass table and greet her breezily. She welcomes them by name as you trail behind like a mouse. You don’t belong here. Not a place like this. You might be with them but you’re not one of them.

Once more, you sink into a daze, trying to distance yourself from the present. From those feelings of unbelonging. Those old wounds from the schoolyard when you stood by the fence and kicked rocks, not daring to provoke anyone with an errant gaze.

“Dear,” Frigga jars you as she gently touches your arm, “did you have ID?”

“ID?” You say dumbly, not processing her request at first.

“They serve alcohol so it’s required to check-in,” she explains.

“Oh, um, yeah,” you clumsily grab your purse and unzip the top. You dig out your ID card and hand it over. Frigga has a brief glance at it before handing it over. The twitch beneath her eye worries you; has it expired?

You wait as Hela taps her short nails on the counter top. Finally, the woman behind the counter approves you for entry. You still don’t really get what this place is. There’s no signs aside from the marquee in swoopy cursive; Hvergelmir.

Another woman appears and takes you through an angular doorway. You’re guided to a private room with robes on hooks, cushioned benches and small cubbies. You watch Hela and Frigga as they remove their heels and set them on the low rack. You do the same, doing everything they do at a delay.

They tuck their bags into the cubbies and undress without shame, keeping only their underwear on as they wrap themselves in the silken robes. You face the corner as you strip and pull on a robe yourself.

It isn’t until you move on to the next room that you realise what this place is. A spa. You’ve never been to one but it’s exactly like you’ve seen on television. You recline as a woman smears your face with a mask and places cucumbers over your eyes. It’s relaxing even if it feels a bit strange.

After laying there for what seems like forever, a woman comes in to offer stemmed glasses of sparkling wine. You remove the sliced veggies from your eyes and accept one in kind with the other women.

“I think I might get a wrap,” Hela declares, “I need the cleanse.”

“Mm, I think I might do the steam room,” Frigga drawls before she sips from her glass. You take a tiny sip, reminding yourself of your last indulgence and the disaster that followed. Hela downs half the glass in a single gulp.

“What about you?” Hela looks at you pointedly. “Would you like to join me for the seaweed wrap?”

“Um, what is that?” You ask.

“Oh, darling,” Frigga sits up and grabs a leather folio, “have a look. You can choose whatever you like.”

You accept the little booklet and open it up to the laminated inside. You read through each item and the description below. The steam room sounds uncomfortable, you’re not a fan of sweating, and the seaweed thing sounds slimy…

“Mud bath?” You read allowed.

“Good choice,” Hela praises, “I might join you after my wrap.”

“Oh, okay,” you close the book and put it on the small round table close to you.

Frigga picks up the small golden bell and rings it. The same woman appears and Frigga lists off the treatments for each of you. She’s led away first, then someone comes to fetch Hela, and finally, you’re taken away by another woman with a high ponytail.

The woman helps you cover your hair with a towel and hands you back your wine glass. She leads you into a room with long rectangular tubs filled with reddish brown muck. She points you to one at the end and you put your glass on the little ledge that juts out from the side.

She helps you remove your robe, “you can keep your underwear on if you like. We can provide a fresh pair after, but you may want to remove your bra.”

You nod and dip your head down to unhook your bra. She reaches to take it and you hesitantly hand it over. She hangs your robe from a hook on the wall and leaves you there. Alright, so you just get in?

You step over the high wall of the tub and lower yourself into the warm mud. It doesn’t feel too bad. You slide around slightly before you’re able to find your bearings and reclining against the slanted back. Is this relaxing?

You close your eyes but not for long. You end up staring at the lines between the ceiling tiles. You stir the mud with your fingers. You feel childish, like you're making mud pies.

You stop as you hear voices. You peek over for just a moment as someone else enters. A tall woman with a swirl of black hair escaping the towel on her head strides in, her tall figure draped in one of the ivory robes. The attendant takes her to the tub across from yours.

You try not to watch as she opens her robe, revealing her sleek body shamelessly. She eases into the tub with a sigh and the attendant leaves. You keep your eyes up as tension fills the space.

“The mud is nice today,” she says, startling you.

You nod and look at her as she stretches her arms around the walls of the tub. Her chest is barely concealed by the muck.

“You don’t come here often. I’ve not seen you around.”

You shake your head, “first time.”

“Ah,” her blue eyes gleam, “special occasion?”

“Erm, not really, I… Walpurgisnacht,” you pronounce the word delicately.

“That’s not for a few days,” she intones.

“You know it?”

“Yes, of course, everyone around here does. And this year, with Frigga hosting, it will be a spectacle.”

“You know Frigga?” You wonder.

She laughs, “of course I do. Who doesn’t?” Her tone is dry and her expression haughty, “how do you know her?”

“Um, I… work for her son,” you utter flatly.

“Thor?”

“Mr. Laufeyson,” you correct her.

“How amusing,” she smirks, “what’s your name?”

You answer, your chest binding up tightly. You feel like you shouldn’t be talking to her. Something about the way she grins.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she purrs, “I’m Sif. You might tell my ex-husband I send my regards.”

You swallow dryly and stare at her. Your heart is pounding and your ears ringing. Sif? In the flesh? She’s absolutely gorgeous. You can see why she haunts the Odinsons. She’s perfect.

Now you know why you will never live up to Laufeyson’s expectations. Why he’s so hard to please. Compared to her, well, you can never compare to her. She is immaculate.

#loki #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #dirty work #au #maid au #thor #avengers #mcu #marvel

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phyrestartr · 8 months

Text

Baby Crazy | Miguel x F!Reader

Miguel x Symbiote Host!Reader W/C: 1.8k

#SFW, mentions of trauma, mentions of past miscarriage, new beginnings, Miguel has baby fever, established relationship, fluff, comfort

Note: I'm trying to finish up and move on from a bunch of WIPs I have cluttering up my docs, so that's why I'm rapid-fire posting LOL. I have so many that are nearly done bro it's driving me insane!!!

Something changed.

This hadn't happened before, the way he was acting, the way he was feeling. Everything around him, anything that even slightly hinted at kids, triggered the frenzy in Miguel’s brain; if Peter showed up at HQ with May in his arms, Miguel had a hard time leaving the room and ignoring them because–yes he wanted to hold her, god dammit, hand her over already, Parker.

Then there were the instances with Jess on missions; any time she got whipped around, Miguel flew to her in an instant, asking if the baby was okay before asking if Jess was okay. He knew they were both fine, but–but still.

And, Christ, when you held a baby, and that stoicism lifted from your beautiful face? It killed Miguel, made him fall even more in love with you if that was even possible.

Fuck. He was so, so doomed.

He'd never seen you so soft before. Just that little glimpse of your maternal instincts, your quiet gentility, dyed your partner’s blood in bright hues of hope and wonder. Because you were a hardened woman, someone the universe took great pleasure in beating on time after time. It was a wonder love could still find a home inside your bruised heart. Miguel had been there to see you before it all, and held you through most of the downfall, and when he’d missed things, you filled in the gaps for him; you were his greatest confidant, ranking high in Miguel’s mind with Lyla and Gabriel.

You'd been there since the beginning as a cool, calm, collected reporter that'd do just about anything to get the next story for the papers. Miguel found you incredibly aggravating, and he would have had much less patience for you if he hadn't wanted to get in bed with you so much. And as it turned out, your insatiable curiosities would come to bite you in the ass as much as it would foster your bond to the scientist; you would become host to the symbiote, and he would become spliced with spider genetics.

Spiderman. Venom.

Who else could you turn to but each other? Who else would understand what it felt like to change in a split second, to endure what it meant to change?

You'd both done your damndest to take it in stride, and now here you were, too many years later, stuck to each other like glue and hardened off into something hurt and impenetrable that just now started to ease into something soft and malleable. Miguel found he loved it. He loved you.

And, shit, he wanted a goddamn baby with you.

He watched you from the couch while you loitered in the kitchen, hair a mess and oversized sleep shirt hanging lazily off one shoulder as you willed yourself to get a pot of coffee going. Rosy eyes glanced down to your stomach. How tight would that shirt get when you were nine months? And what if you had twins? Miguel had confidence in himself, he figured he had the power to put two babies in you at once. Easy. No problem. Definitely doable and–

"Miguel?" You called from the kitchen with a croaky, groggy voice.

"Baby?" He blurted, the fever in his mind overtaking his mouth and sabotaging what he tried to say.

You stared at Miguel as heat rose to his face. He didn't call you "baby." You didn't call him "baby." You had a right to be suspicious. And because you were you, you continued to stare, and stare, and stare like it was some kind of punishment done to make Miguel squirm in his seat (which succeeded).

"I–uh, shit, sorry. You–say again?"

You stared at him.

"(Name), for the love of–stop, just stop. Please," he more or less begged as he rubbed his face. Maybe he could rub away the red staining his cheeks if he tried hard enough.

"Hm." You collected the two mugs of coffee you'd prepared during Miguel's daydream, and brought them to the couch. "You've been thinking about babies a lot."

Miguel took the mug with a soft thanks. "Well, it's hard not to with Jess and Peter around," Miguel deflected.

You slipped your legs across his lap and leaned against the arm of the couch. "Mh." You sipped your coffee and held it with both hands to warm your chilled fingers. "Do you want–"

"I think so." He looked at you, eyes big with a maelstrom of nerves and excitement dancing behind them as sparks fluttered in his chest. "Do you?"

Your head tilted just slightly as you looked him over. "Mhm. Wanna do it now?"

Miguel's palm magnetized to your thigh and squeezed. "Well, I think we've got time."

“Okay.” Miguel smirked and started to feel up your leg, his fingers dipping into the sleep shorts you wore. But then, you took out your phone, and paid no mind to his lustful touches. “What do you want?”

Miguel blinked. “What?”

You stared at him again. “For breakfast.”

“Oh.”

“Mh.” You fidgeted with your phone between your fingers for a moment. “Oh. Did you…think I was talking about–?”

“No,” Miguel interjected. “I–I just thought you–maybe just–I, well. Maybe?” He swallowed and drummed his fingers against your leg. “Have you…thought about it?”

The question held weight; he knew you’d thought about it, knew you lamented over it, even, because you lost a child just as he had. The memories swirling in your mind never rose to the surface, never burned into the history of the outside world, but Miguel knew they were there. He knew a late-term miscarriage could never be forgotten.

“Mmh…” You slipped your legs off his lap and made slow work of tucking them into your sleepshirt, making yourself a blob. A very cute, sleepy blob. “We’ve thought about it,” you admitted, but didn’t expand. It gave Miguel hope, though. Clearly you’d mulled it over with your other half.

“Yeah?” He asked.

“Yeah.” You nodded.

Your partner nodded. His hand found its way onto the bump of your knee, and his thumb rubbed curious circles against you as he exercised patience, like a puppy sitting and waiting for a treat. You watched his hand on you, quietly admiring the veins and tendons proudly pushing against his skin, and the shift of muscle dancing under his movements as he soothed you.

“Are you ready?” You wondered softly. One of your hands slipped from your mug in favour of resting over his. “For a baby.”

Miguel chewed his cheek for a moment and watched your hand, too, like avoiding each other’s gaze would somehow quash the trepidation, make it easier to admit what you both wanted and what you both feared. But Miguel, the man who didn’t always like what he had to do but knew what he had to do, bit the bullet and found your eyes. Your beautiful, perfect eyes. Maybe your shared joy would have them, too.

“Yeah.” He scooted into your space and caressed your warm cheek with the backs of his knuckles. “If it’s with you,” he said, and turned his hand to cup your cheek with his palm, “I’m sure.”

The still, placid look of you melted, just the slightest bit, under the incalescence of your lover’s touch. Your lovely lips twitched a fraction, but the true smile, the one Miguel craved to see day after day, glowed in the colour of your eyes.

“Hm.” You hummed softly as you nodded, thinking and deliberating with your other half. Your gaze wandered away from Miguel and to the side slowly, to the side she whispered in the most. Your eyes fluttered, then, gaze recentering and focusing on Miguel in front of you again.

“Well?” He tucked some hair behind your ear only for you to un-tuck that same piece. Miguel tucked it back again, and this time, you let him. “What’s the jury say?”

You took a deep breath, and nodded. “We think we’re ready,” you murmured. You caught his hand and pressed a light kiss to his knuckles, treating him like the princess you knew he was. “If it’s with you, we’re sure.” And this time, you gave him a smile.

Miguel’s heart erupted. His boyish grin hit you with the concentrated power of the sun before he all but dove into you, crushing you with a hug, and spilling coffee everywhere. You made some sort of strange noise, something between laughter and panic, as you fumbled with the mugs and set them down wherever you could while Miguel peppered you with affection. He kissed your de-blobbed body, first your collarbone and then between your breasts. He nuzzled there before taking a deep, deep breath of your scent and sighing, content.

“You’re weird,” you said as you carded your hands through his hair while he basked in the glory of your chest.

He pulled his face out of heaven and rested his chin between the girls as he gazed up at you, eyes bleeding adoration and excitement. “Oh, what, I’m not allowed to be excited for a baby?”

You pinched his nose and watched him scrunch up his face and suffer. “You’re just weird.” Your mean fingers found his eyebrows and pulled them. “I’m excited, too. I’ve been thinking about it for a long time.” You let go of the hairs and smoothed them over with your thumbs. “About trying again.”

That had Miguel’s attention. “You never mentioned it.” He tilted his head, resting his cheek against one plushy mound as he listened.

“I didn’t know how to bring it up. I didn’t know if I should.” You dragged your nails against Miguel’s scalp, and he closed his eyes with a pleased sigh. “I’m glad you did.”

Miguel hummed warmly. “Guess we were both a little scared, huh? Hah. Venom and Spiderman, afraid to talk about the future. Who woulda thought.” He picked his head up to look you in the eyes. “But at least that’s out of the way now.”

“Mh. Now you can stop complaining about using condoms,” You said, deadpan.

“I–you–look, you don’t get it–”

“Hm.”

“It feels different. Better. Like a real connection–”

“Hmm.”

“And–okay, fine, I’d rather not have a shitty layer of rubber between me and you. What’s so wrong with that?”

“Hmmm.”

“Vieja,” Miguel pleaded.

You smiled, soft and quiet like drifting petals. “Like I said, you won’t need to complain about them anymore. Not for a while, anyway.”

Miguel bit your tit lightly, and you flicked his forehead. “Why don’t we not-complain right now?”

“Hm.”

“We have time to start round one of baby-making, yeah?” His smile, dangerous and hungry, split across his features again as his hands wandered up and under your shirt teasingly. “If we knock you up now, we’ll have a kid born in…what, February? Good start to a new year.”

You thought about it more seriously than Miguel thought you would, if the narrowing of your brows and a sudden prolonged silence told him anything. You were probably mulling over the zodiacs for that month, though, deciding if you liked them enough to go for it. Even with your serious take on things, you still loved your astrology.

“Hm. Okay.” But you plucked your phone off the ground and turned the menu you’d pulled up to Miguel. “Food first. Baby-making after.”

He nodded. “Deal.”

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x reader #atsv imagine #atsv reader insert #miguel ohara x reader #atsv x reader #atsv x you #miguel x you #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara x y/n #phyrestartr

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spockandawe · 2 years

Text

Lectern Book Case Dimensions

Lectern books!!!!

Once again, I'm running further behind than I wanted to be, but I said I was going to do geometry to this thing, and goshdarnit, when has being redundant stopped me before.

Only, I don't think I'm being entirely redundant. I've seen other people do the basic geometry, but I wanted to come up with something that was completely customizable, from the viewing angle to the size of the hinge gaps. I wanted something that would work for books that were too large to be traced and drawn directly onto my available boards (cough cough, my latest wip).

I'm not dumping that entire writeup in a tumblr post, because I'm a dirty filthy engineer who littered the entire thing with subscripts and greek letters. I had such a good time, I'm not sorry at all. But here's what I do have for you. I made a nice diagram writeup of my dimensions and the equations that drive them. Tumblr's resolution may sabotage me, so a link to a google drive pdf copy will follow

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1QlycJjwsweGxPmR0InFTpqy9DXLIfDnB/view?usp=sharing

Here's a copy of the final version of my handwritten notes that drove this, which I share for my personal satisfaction

And now, here's a link to a google doc describing my process, equations included, and including a partial discussion of how to assemble the case.

This still isn't quite as accessible as I would like it to be, I do want to have a version of this that someone who DOESN'T bind books can still follow. I'm in the middle of building a prototype that will hold a standard three-ring binder. I'm going to keep working on that, but I think my personal life is about to get bananas, and I don't want to just leave this sitting on my computer taking up space.

Like with the fore edge painting slideshow, I'm not an expert, and I'm not the final word. I worked out this process for my own satisfaction, and the next step in satisfying myself is that I want to enable more people to do cool things. Take this, copy it to other platforms, share it with your friends, hoard it on your hard drive if you think it will be useful. It would be cool to get named for credit if you repost it, but that's not my main priority here. This is what I have for now, and I want to share it! Anyone who tries this, have fun!!!

Edit: This comic is literally me dumping a huge column of equations out on an unsuspecting audience

So I've added a spreadsheet link within the google doc! If you open it up and make a personal copy, it should let you enter your input values and it will spit out the dimensions of a trapezoid and two triangles for you. I have not had an opportunity to test it, please move with caution before cutting up a bunch of boards, but that was a hilarious gap in my goal of making this craft ""accessible,"" hahaha

#crafts #bookbinding #lectern books

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alllgator-blood · 2 months

Note

ohh my goodness can you pls pls pls do a brush tour?? i love ur art so so much its so cruncy >:]

Yes I can, I appreciate your interest!! I use paint tool sai 2 which is kind of archaic, but I've been drawing on a wacom pen and touch small + using paint tool sai since 2012 and I'm too stubborn to move onto something better. I actually only use three brushes so I've made a little drawing where I only use one brush per character to show the differences:

Gonna put the screenshots of the brush settings below the cut cause it got longer than I expected:

I drew my three big faves cause frankly I am sick of looking at kallamar and narinder's smug faces lmaoooo ANYWAY. GOING FROM LEFT TO RIGHT, WE HAVE THE CHUNKY BRUSH. I use that brush for messily coloring things in, doing big blocky background shapes, or just adding texture to a drawing. It's my favorite brush to paint with but I have not....finished a painting for this blog yet...

Then for the crunchy brush, it's a tool I use half for lineart and half for coloring. I use it for stuff like changes in fur color/markings, drawing all the lines in the backgrounds I do, and finer details the chunky brush can't handle. It's also the lineart tool I use for my drawings where the lines are all on the inside of the chararacters but not the outside!

As for the smooth brush, this one only ever gets used for lines but it was created when I was so bored of my lineart tool I stopped drawing for a while. I wanted a calligraphy pen and had to work around SAI's limitations, so while it doesn't have that thin-thick angular effect that calligraphy pens have....I manually apply the pressure and it looks passable enough. I hope.

The brush settings are visible in the pics but uNFORTUNATELY I DO *NOT* remember where I got my stupid brush pack from. I literally downloaded the files before I was even a teenager but I *do* remember they're from deviantart. If anyone is for some reason kicking and screaming to acquire this ancient, crusty brush pack I'm sure I could throw it in a google drive

I have other useless information about my process if any of this is remotely helpful: for the anaglyph effect on my lines, I literally take a full 120 seconds to copy+paste two copies of my lineart, color it red and cyan, and then slightly move them up+down beneath the black lineart to get that 3dish effect. My flat backgrounds are just another sai preset texture, usually the checkerboard one cause it's swag. The rest of my brushes are just for utility or to fill in the gaps, that scroll bar leads to a bunch of empty space. They're not worth showing off just because they don't ever get used, or it's just like. The bucket tool. The select tool. A binary pen I never use. And lastly, for my usual lines, I actually go back and mess them up myself to get them to look more chaotic...my lines are usually smooth + even but it's so boring to look at and time consuming that I'm trying to unlearn that.

here's a wip of what my lines USUALLY look like with the smooth brush. You can see for the background I mostly used the chunky brush for shapes and then the crunchy brush for the finer lines! But yeah it takes forever to do smooth lines because I have nerve damage in my arm (it's why my stabilizer is maxed out...) and I refuse to use the line tool. In a professional setting I definitely make sure my lines are polished but this is just my goofy fanart blog and I want everything to look like it's been laced with crack.

I HOPE ANY OF THIS HELPS?? OR JUST SATES YOUR CURIOSITY, I try to not gatekeep the way I do my art so I have literally no secrets tbh

#not sure how to tag this one uhhhhhhhh

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non-stop-imagines · 4 months

Note

MEE RELEASE THE ARCHIVES BABE

Thank you for this. It kick started my creativity. I have soooo many WIPs that I'm excited to show you guys and my ideas need somewhere to land, so why not here.

I'm also gonna link this to my Masterlist so I can link the finished products to both and people are able to choose how they decide which fic to read.

(A bunch of barely coherent brainstorming under the cut 😚 And this apparently will be changing and updated whenever I think of it so keep checking back 💖)

Works in progress/ideas by driver:

Lewis Hamilton

- Something with the vibe of Angel of Mine by Monica because that song reminds me of him every time it comes on and I desperately want to try writing for Lewis again

Another song one. Ours by Taylor Swift. You both are very busy but very in love and will always make time for each other. No matter what.

Max Verstappen

Raincheck sneak peek here (Intense hatred between Max and the reader can only last so long.)

Big brother Max trying to help his sister out but is block by his father at EVERY TURN. (Tyla faceclaim and the request alone has me obsessed with her now. I absolutely love her.

Different things to add to Repeat That Au; Big sister, best friend and a lot of pregnancy talk (including something that links in the On Display Au courtesy of my ♥️ anon)

Lando Norris

Lando flirting with his PR manager who is a few years older.

Two words: Uncle. Lando.

Something to the song Making Whoopee by Frank Sinatra bc Lando seems like the type of guy to do anything for the girl he wants to fu k really badly. Wedding. Home. Baby. Whole nine yards. Big simp energy. The best type of energy

More from the Valentine Au because it's cute and I love it

Lance Stroll

Fake dating. We love when besties fake date and fall in love 😙

Oscar Piastri

Oscar loves his wife. Talks about her all the time. But no one knows they're married??? A little sneaky peek (that is barely put together):

"Your girlfriend is into astrology. I made the mistake of telling her my birthday." Lando spoke, twirling his flags, not seeing the extremely confused look Oscar was giving him.

"Girlfriend?" Lando looked up at his teammate and given him an equally confused face, believing his comment was quite clear.

"Uh, yeah? Yn?" Lando was so matter of fact, and yet had no idea how wrong he was.

"Yn's my wife. We're married."

"BUT YOU'RE BABIES!?"

"YOU'RE TWO YEARS OLDER THAN US!

More for Girl Almighty bc we have to see how the reader and Oscar do driving against each other

Charles Leclerc

Cocoa Butter Kisses-Charles is mesmerizing by your everything shower routine and how good you smell when you're done

Rockstar-undercover soft girl-reader; another smutty one; just gotta figure out the direction I was to take it

Wedding Night-Self explanatory;smut and aftercare (almost done with the smut, just gotta do the aftercare)

More stuff from My Biggest Fan Au bc who doesn't love Charles and Gianna 🥹

Something to I Wish by 1D with Pierre. You and Charles are literally the perfect couple. The entire way through. (See the ideas for Pierre for his part in the plot)

Logan Sargeant

Thanksgiving with the Fam and our very own Mr. America gets to experience a black Thanksgiving (yes I did get that suggestion right after Thanksgiving. Let's not talk about that 😔)

Something with the vibe of Wouldn't it be Nice by The Beach Boys bc apparently I think Logan is the purest little boy on the grid and just wants to live a happy life with his girlfriend

Carlos Sainz

More for Mírame Au (stay tuned bc there will come a time where I open request for suggestions for this 😚)

Esteban Ocon

Man's will be pining for Lewis' personal assistant and it will become a viral F1 moment.

Daniel Ricciardo

Reader can't stand sisters new boyfriend, and Daniel can't stand the fact that his girlfriends identical twin sister hates him, but feelings change, just not for the better

Handled: The Backstory (How reader and Daniel meet and fall for each other 😚) yes it will be smutty

Something based off the song "Would You Go with Me" because it is very Daniel and I don't know how to explain it

What do you think the opposite of On Display would be? (Hint: jealous Danny 😚)

More for On Display, but I might make her an OC to make another fic suggestion (look under Max ideas) a bit easier to write.

Fernando Alonso

Fernando and reader are literally each other's muse, he talk about her all the time and he inspires and entire album (and makes his music video debut)

Fernando gets some plants to impress reader; now he the plant dad to her plant mom and it's an inside jokes between family and friends

Fernandos favorite pass time is picking the readers hair color

Sebastian Vettel

Sebastian only wants one thing: For everyone to know how much he loves his ballerina girlfriend. Another little sneak peek (that, again, is just barely put together):

"Yes. You are in the presence...of the first...black Sugar Plum Fairy for the New York City Ballet." Your cheeks were sore from smiling, but nothing could dull your shine right now. Your friends that were hovering around you finally crowd around and give you tight loving squeezes, greeting Sebastian on your phone and bragging on your accomplishment.

"Sebastian! How does it feel to be dating the best principal dancer in the history of the New York City Ballet?" Your friend, Julia, hooks her arms over your shoulders and presses her mouth to your temple.

"I'm just glad I get to be her boyfriend. That's my title now. Sebastian Vettel, boyfriend Yn, New York City Ballett Principal Dancer and first black NYCB Sugar Plum Fairy.

Pierre Gasly

Introducing new OC!Eve (Chloe Bailey faceclaim);my way of introducing the readers sister into the Repeat That Au; we get to start off with a small backstory

I Wish-1D; Pierre's got it BAD. Go listen to the song. His POV is the song. It's heartbreaking and I love it so much. Probably one of the first fics that doesn't have a happy ending.

Maxiel

Trying get someone to buy you and Daniel a drink goes wrong

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autisticmao · 25 days

Text

║▌ CRAYONS OF NATURE ・・・

child/teen!joel & etho! | [WIP]

> hecklers. imma post another unfinished bit, sorry. burnout is real, and i hate it so much- :(

"What about... this colour? I think it suits you!"

"I don't know..."

A young Joel groans at the response he was given to by his close friend, Etho. A large book and a bunch of crayons of various colours sprawled out in front of the two, one of the few crayons Joel held in his hand, and then slammed it against the blank pages. "You have to choose one eventually, or we can't begin this project!"

"But I wanted the green crayon. All the other colours aren't as cool." The ashen-haired child whines.

Joel glares at the other boy, reeling the green crayon he held close to his chest, puffing his cheeks out. "I chose it first, so it's mine forever!"

Etho lets out a small pout, the two staring on into each others eyes for a while longer.

Charcoal and carnelian sparkled against the umber until a few seconds go by, and Etho looks away with a defeated sigh and reaches out from where he sat against the dry grass of the garden belonging to Joel's home, and reached out for a blue crayon. "Fine," he speaks, "so what was the idea again?"

"Do you not ever listen?" The brunette boy deadpans.

"I got distracted..."

"By what? A butterfly? When with me, you're supposed to pay attention to me - alone. I'm your best friend, not nature!" Joel huffs once more, and changes the subject of the talk back to the main drive as he directs his focus onto the book in front of him and Etho, "by the end date of every month, we write a singular thought - opinion or something, about each other." As he explained, Joel leans over the thin papers and directs the point of his green crayon onto it, the dust-likeness of the crayon washes onto the whiteness of the paper as he writes a small sentence out. "Like this, see!" Joel points to a sentence that included Etho.

Etho leans over Joel's side, reading what Joel wrote. A warm feeling catches in his heart, a soft smile making its way onto his features.

"I understand now," Etho looked back towards Joel with the same smile.

"Cool. Now hurry up and write something down, I'm hungry!"

"Okay, okay!" A small laugh comes from Etho, following Joel's pathway with writing in his blue crayon, connecting it to the paper and letting words flow like a river.

Time after the first month flows. After what was made as a child's promise turned into a tradition of friendship. No matter the age they were, the two always got together to write down in the same book, in the same colours, in crayons, to compliment each other, or write something other about them.

Compliments. Secrets. Questions. They were all written down, but a rule within the first few months was settled down by Joel to Etho. When writing in the book, they weren't allowed to see what the other person wrote until a certain time came.

Months turn into a year. Then, five years, and it doubles to a decade, and so on, various things between the duo changed. They matured and fulfilled their dreams and wishes they've made along the way, but still, they wrote down in the very same book.

No matter the moment of time...

...

"When are you ever taking that damned mask off?" Joel points out as soon as he walks into the bedroom, closing the door behind himself with a gentle shut.

"When are you washing that streak out of your hair?" Etho, from where he sits upon his bed bites back, earning a dishonest noise of somewhat from the other male, his dyad eyes focused on Joel's figure as Joel walked towards Etho's bed, sitting on the mattress off to the side, one leg sturdy on the mattress, as the other swayed lightly from the gravity and hitting the heel of his foot against the body of the bedframe every few seconds.

"Shut up... I got this streak for a special reason."

A small chuckle comes from Etho.

"So... did you bring the book with you~?"

"Of course I did, I'm not forgetful when it comes to things like this - unlike someone else in the room~"

"Wonder who you're on about," Etho's eyes glint with a sense of mischief.

Joel tuts and then rolls his eyes, grabbing the bag he wore on his back, shuffling the straps from his shoulders and moving the bag to his lap, with unzipping the main part he grabs a worn down and slightly rolled up book. The inside papers begin to form a colour and fold in ways it shouldn't when not handled properly. Alongside that, Joel grabs a pencil case from the bottom of his bag, taking two coloured pens out. He places the bag to the side and has the book in its place instead. Joel flips through the various pages, finding one of some blank spots that the two could easily write in.

"How many things do you think we've written in this book by now?" Etho asks as he attempts at peering over, only to look off to the side when Joel clicks his pen and starts forming a sentence. Like a tide mixed in the ocean, words begin to form with such weaving. Joel's writing was the bubbly foam, as Etho's was the cooling salt water.

"Who knows. We've been doing this since like... what? Five or six years old together? So maybe more than twenty thousand notes."

"Wow, I've really been dealing with you for this long, surprised I haven't gone insane yet around you."

"Oi..." Joel darts his umber eyes towards the smug looking male for a second and then back to the book, quickly reading over what he wrote and hoping it made more sense. Once he was alright with what he wrote, he places one hand over the writing, and hands the book and a blue pen to Etho who takes both items, alongside hovering his hand over Joel's just as Joel took his away from the paper to keep what he wrote hidden away.

Etho situated the pen he held in his hold more comfortably, and with pointing the led to the same paper as what Joel wrote on, words came to life similarly to Joel's.

"Are you allowed out today?" Joel asks after a minute of silence.

Etho stops writing for a second, letting his thoughts tick and carry on writing as he answers back to the question. "I wish, but no."

A sound of defeat forms from the smaller adult. "I wish you were better already from... whatever it is you're suffering from. The friend group feels so damn boring without you."

"Aww, does someone miss me~?"

"Heck no! You're just more fun and easier to make fun of than the others!"

"Sure, sounds like it..." Etho then finishes writing in the book and closes it over without a glance to any of the messages coloured in green as he hands the pen and book back to Joel who immediately starts packing the belongings away back into his bag. "Would you like to play a game with me?"

"What are we, three now?"

"No, I mean video game wise. I was able to download one from the game shop on my console."

A small huff comes from Joel. "Well, it's not like you're allowed out of your so-called imprisonment, so sure. Show me what you've got."

"Okay, so, about the games theme. It's about..."

...

idea if anyone cares about it? idk my writing sucks, but...: joel and etho are already friends as children, joel comes up with the idea to write something positive about each other in a random notebook he found from inside of his house, and the idea sticks between each other for years. i had an idea for how to end this - admittedly cliche and angsty on joel's side, but the burnout is saying otherwise. oh, and there's hints to etho being deadly sick as he ages by-

#character joel and character etho #boat boys #oneshot #smallishbeans fanfiction #smallishbeans #joel smallishbeans #smalletho #ethoslab fanfiction #ethoslab #etho #hermitcraft season 10 #life series #mcyt #mcyt fanfiction #smalletho fics — ♪ let's sailthrough the fics!

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campfam4lyfe · 8 days

Note

Got any campfam aus or ideas in the works?

hey anon! I wouldn’t say I have any ideas in the works, because I have what I like to call commitment issues when it comes to writing fic.

This means that while I have an abundance of ideas, outlines, and wips in my Google docs for the fandoms I’ve been in. I’ve never actually finished a fic and posted it.

In fact, the only single time I have, (diff fandom!) I am not counting properly, because it was a collab with a close mutual, and a lot of the legwork was them. I had the initial plot bunny and was going to leave it as a one off tumblr post, but my mutual rlly liked the idea and we bounced drabbles and such back and forth. We wrote a bunch of snippets and put them together in a doc, until we had cohesive chapters, as we filled the empty spaces with more and more work, ending up to a total of 18 chapters. It took us a year and a half to post it, and that was mostly my fault, as where my mutual had finished most of their allotted sections, different hyperfixations kept pulling me to other unfinished works. This is why I won’t promise anything—I don’t want to disappoint anyone.

But, that being said. I do have ideas, hcs, and aus! One that is currently consuming me, was actually inspired by this one other post I saw recently. (When I find the post ima link it dw!) OP of the post was saying that there should be a Carmen Sandiego au for CC and I jumped on that SO fucking fast anon. I LOVE Carmen Sandiego, and have since it first aired when I was in HS.

So. Here’s some of the Carmen Sandiego au thoughts copy/pasted from my Google docs. (Yes I do always write out my outlines as if I’m taking to someone but that’s bc i sometimes end up sharing the doc link with some friends)

JWCC Carmen Sandiego AU:

Y’all know Kenlynn is my JAM and so is RedCrackle. So obvi I thought of mixing the two right? But here’s the thing. While I love Carmen/Gray, I am also in love with Carmen/Ivy and Carmen/Julia.

So with that in mind. Kenlynn is going to take a backseat for a second (meaning tho they'll become a thing and obvi they will bc they are a constant to me, theyre not the center of this), and my fave girls YASAMMY will be at the forefront of this au.

I’m thinking. Carmen Sammy. But I’m not entirely sure about whether or not that’s what I want? It could be argued that Sammy’s love for her family is a core driving force in her character, and Carmen doesn’t KNOW her family. But also—a huge plot point is that she’s looking for her mom. So. Tentative Carmen Sammy.

MANTAH CORP AS VILE MANTAH CORP AS V.I.L.E MANTAH CORP AS V.I.L.E

So I figure not everything is going to be one-to-one. This means I am placing Kenji in the role of Gray/Crackle. His story is going to be different tho, bc whereas Gray was a recruit, with MANTAH CORP AS V.I.L.E that means Daniel is already on the board. So kenji trying to make his dad proud? More likely than you think.

(I just wanted my Sammy&Kenji besties. Bestie betrayal can be just as good as romantic betrayal)

I’m sure you know where I’m going with this if we’re not going the redcrackle route. Thats right. YASMINA JULIA.

I considered at first, YASMINA CARMEN and SAMMY IVY, but in the end the need for Sammy Carmen was too great.

So I also considered Dave and Roxxie as Chase and Julia but, I decided to scrap that idea for now. You know me, at some point I might revamp most of the au anyways lol, now is not a time for fine tuning it’s just a tentative starting point.

Torn between DARIUS as Player or Brooklynn as Player. I considered Ben of course, but I think we need to put him on an island at some point—he needs a Bumpy, no matter the universe.

WAIT. REVISITING BEN AS PLAYER. BECAUSE DARIUS AND BRAND AS ZACK AND IVY. This means no Carmen/Ivy vibes but since we ditched the Gray/Carmen as well in this au I think it’s fine.

Ben still has to end up with Bumpy somehow tho? Original Ben plan, when Darius was a Player candidate, was Ben is also a V.I.L.E recruit.

V.I.L.E having a faction that deals with genetics and cloning (in addition to like. Kash and his robots) and ending up with a dinosaur—Bumpy! And that being Ben’s flip to the other side/Team Sammy. He defects and steals Bumpy on his way out.

Okay I’m a little too attached to that, so yeah. V.I.L.E recruit Ben, so Brooklynn as player??

Oh! She doesn’t have!!! IRL friends!! Brooklynn being an Internet famous vlogger as in canon. So we get that running gag of Sammy and Brooklynn always being in contact and Brooklynn being a big part of the heists through investigative work and such, yet she’s constantly on the other side of the globe? Sammy needs to be in Sydney but Brooklynn is in New Orleans. That kinda stuff.

Works with Brooklynn having traveled all over the world, she can also do those factoids player does—she’s got the deets.

Oh!???? THATS HOW WE GET MY FAVE DUO OF DINOSTAR BESTIES!!! They both love their facts. They’re nerds.

Mae as shadowsan? Tentatively?

Okay. Player Brooklynn. Except instead of being home most of the time, she’s usually on the go. She’s talked to kenji a few times during Sammy and Kenji’s V.I.L.E recruit era.

Kenji as the Gray of this au. he’s a V.I.L.E legacy. he became friends with sammy his recruitment year, and he'd talked to brooklynn a few times, due to sammy introducing them because kenji was curious about whether or not sammy has friends in the outside world, and sammy noticing brooklynn feeling a little left out/jealous that sammy had friends she was hanging with in person rather than over a phone call.

kenlynn kenlynn kenlynn

does he recognize her voice from her vlogs? does he even watch them? i dont think hed be a brooklander, guys got a lot on his plate and thats impressing his dad

ben is a V.I.L.E. recruit. maybe a bit of mime bomb, in that he was. not as close? with the other recruits. i do think having ben come in as a recruit the year sammy defects would be cool tho. so he doesn't know her as "black sheep" or whatever code name V.I.L.E refers to her as. he'll first meet her as Sammy.

yaz as JULIA!!!!! a junior agent? a former athlete. trying to make it make sense, but i think it fits.

omg. yaz. is alex rider basically holy shit

was thinking of dave as chase, and decided that i was going to keep it.

roxxie as the Chief.

mae as shadowsan.

yes. it IS because i want a roxxie/mae/dave love triangle and that need's final form was ot3

DARIUS AND BRAND AS ZACK AND IVY. i dont want their mom to be dead. but i dont know WHAT happened to her and why theyre involved in this life of crime? i love the og carmen&ivy&zack meeting. and i love that they were involved with racing. trying to find a way to incorporate it and make it make sense

important question.....is darius and his dad's great shared love still dinosaurs?

OR IS IT CARS? RACING?????? BRAND BEING INVOLVED IN THE RACES BC IT WAS IMPORTANT TO DARIUS AND THEIR DAD AND DARIUS CANT DRIVE YET

AND. SAMMY. AS CARMEN!!!!!!

okay so carmen's dad was a former V.I.L.E. agent who left it all behind for the woman he fell in love with right? well. obvi this au isnt a one to one. like there clearly have been changes in characters and dynamics. but i think involving elements from this could work. lemme map it out to make sense

okay so in cc sammy spies for mantah corp despite her parents not wanting her to. meanwhie carmen's dad defects from V.I.L.E., i think shadowsan was there and so was the chief and he dies.

okay so--sammy's dad was a V.I.L.E. agent, fell in love, defected. V.I.L.E. catches up with him, and does A.C.M.E. and in the fallout, the house collapses. A fire? an explosion? they think sammy died. (im not killing off sammy's dad bc damnit she needs a happy ending)

yaz losing faith in the system and having her hot girl summer being romanced by the pretty thief she's supposed to be catching

ben ditches VILE/Mantah Corp with Bumpy and meets Darius at some point--oh!!!

mae/shadowsan joins Team Sammy at the end of s1 i think? okay, so, when she joins, she brings ben, a fresh defector with her.

obvi ben left after he stole bumpy from them

at some point during their occasional talks, kenlynn became friendly with each other. then The Train scene happens. and kenji is promptly deemed a disappointment and dealt with the way gray is.

brooklynn ends up coming across a memory-wiped kenji during one of her vlogs. he doesnt know he knows her, just that something about her voice seems familiar.

brooklynn brings it up and the other are Concerned but also have a lot on their plate rn/dont truly trust him again or are unclear on whether or not they should. darius/brand bc their experiences havent been good so far, and sammy doesnt want to risk them. but he was still one of her first friends. shes torn

brooklynn making contact with him. smth smth she ends up needing a camera man for one of her vlogs and kenji volunteers. they grow closer during her sporadic visits. he asks her out.

DANIEL KON HAS ENTERED THE CHAT. SAMMY NEEDS BROOKLYNN TO DO HER THING. SHE MISSES THE DATE.

Meanwhile, that entire interactive ep??? of carmen sandiego with the julia/carmen??? THAT. THAT HAPPENS. YASAMMY DANCE AND WE GET THAT SCENE YOU KNOW THE ONE

#answered ask #anon ask #jurassic world chaos theory #jurassic world camp cretaceous #jwcc #jwct #kenji kon #kenlynn #daniel kon #sammy gutierrez #yasmina fadoula #yasammy #ben pincus #benrius #carmen sandiego au #darius bowman #brand bowman #bumpy jwcc

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thirsty-flygirl · 1 year

Text

Do Better

Steve Murphy x f!Reader

About 2800 words. Not proofed or Beta-read. Good luck.

I don't know what happened here. I haven't written anything for months, this was sitting in my WIPs and I just decided to finish it.

Contrary to what this suggests, I am NOT a Steve Murphy girl. Javier Peña for life. But if Steve showed up, I probably wouldn't kick him out of bed. Not surprised, just disappointed.

OVER 18 ONLY! Warnings: oral (m and f receiving), PIV- no protection (use a condom, kids), slight degradation, Steve being a southern boy with an attitude, some language, a Reader much sexier and confident than I could ever be, my overuse of commas and italics.

“Just this once,” you panted, the pair of you stumbling through your doorway.

“Never again,” Steve agreed, his hot breath fanning across your skin as his mouth traversed the column of your throat. You moaned in response, tilting your head so he could have better access, and let his strong hands push you back against the door until it closed.

“Fuck, you smell good,” he muttered, letting his nose trail across your collarbone, “always smell so fuckin’ good.”

He pressed his thigh between your legs and you eagerly rolled your hips against the strong muscle, the seam of your jeans rubbing against your clit and stoking the flames of arousal in your belly.

“I should, it’s expensive,” you moaned, dropping down over, and over, and over to feel the delicious friction against your folds.

Steve huffed out a laugh, pressing his hot mouth against the swell of your tits as his hands came up to grope you through your blouse.

“Such a fuckin’ smartass, always runnin’ your mouth,” he emphasized his words by roughly squeezing your nipples between his fingers. You cried out and rutted harder against his thigh, feeling your slick dampen your panties. Steve groaned his approval and pressed against you harder.

“That’s right, baby, rub that sweet pussy on me...get you nice and wet so I can just slide right in.”

Reached up, you grabbed a fistful of blond hair and jerked his head up, slanting your mouth over his in a bruising, sloppy kiss. He growled, urging you on, and you let your tongue tangle roughly with his for a moment before pulling back and nipping at his pouty bottom lip.

“Let me show you what else I can do with my mouth,” you purred, dropping down to your knees right there in your entryway. You made quick work of his belt, palming him through the rough denim and squeezing lightly.

“Well, fuck, Murph,” you laughed lightly, “looks like you’re finally happy to see me for once.”

He braced himself against the door with one hand, dropping his head to look down at you like an angel just before the fall.

“Quit talking and just suck my dick, honey,” he rasped, reaching with his other hand to rest on the back of your head.

You grinned and pulled him from his boxers, long and thick, ruddy tip weeping. Letting your tongue dart out to swipe against the tempting swirl of precum, you moaned lowly in the back of your throat before wrapping your lips around his shaft.

Bobbing along Steve’s length, you used one hand to stroke whatever wasn’t buried in your mouth, listening to his gasps and growls in order to guide your movements. You let your tongue laze against his frenulum, slowly running it back and forth and driving him insane.

“Not gonna last long if you keep doin’ that,” he gritted out, his fingers knotting in your hair and urging you forward. You let him guide you, hollowing out your cheeks as he pumped his cock into your hot, eager mouth, trying to take as much of him as possible on each pass.

Your own arousal roared within you, pussy fluttering at the thought of finally getting him between your legs. Your panties were completely soaked, your position at Steve’s feet with your knees tucked together making them bunch up against your clit. You writhed around, trying to find that same sweet friction that you had on his leg, but you needed more, more of the man gazing down at you, like a merciful god absolving you of all your sins.

“Look at you,” he whispered, his eyes shining appreciatively in the dim light. “Such a good girl, gettin’ down on your knees for me. Taking that cock so well…..”

His praise made you blossom, your eyes wide and acquiescent, lifting up to meet his. You whimpered around his length, moving your hand faster, bobbing enthusiastically.

“Yeah,” he continued, nodding his head as he watched his dick disappear between your plump lips, “you like gettin’ your pretty face fucked, don’t ya?” You moaned in return, your eyelashes fluttering as his words alone made you soar.

Steve smirked crookedly down at you. “Looks like someone enjoys being on their knees for me . . . you like me using you like a whore?”

Fuck, he’d found your weakness without even trying. As assertive and confident you were in your professional life, there was something about being on your knees in front of a sexy man and letting him just control you, defile you, just absolutely fucking use you that made your cunt throb.

“Get up here, honey,” Steve ordered, pulling you up against his body, cock hard against your stomach, and taking your mouth roughly. He gripped your chin tightly as he kissed you, the sharp bite of pain making you moan wantonly.

He tore his mouth from yours, panting as he pressed his forehead against your temple. “Bedroom, now,” he demanded. You slipped past him, leading him down the short hallway and into your room. He grabbed you the moment you crossed the threshold, twirling you in his arms and walking you backward to the bed.

“Let me see those tits,” he ordered, his deep voice hoarse with lust. You met his eyes and began unbuttoning your blouse, watching his pupils dilate as you exposed the lace of your bra. “Yeah, that’s it.” He reached out and ran his thumbs over your nipples, admiring them as they hardened under his touch. “So pretty,” he mumbled, tweaking them until they ached.

You whimpered, arching your back and thrusting your chest further into his warm hands. “Steve, please,” you begged, letting your head loll back, “please fuck me.”

That deep, cocky chuckle rumbled through his chest as he regarded you. “Damn, honey, you do know how to make a man feel good. Let me take care of you.”

Steve slipped his hands behind your back, deftly unhooking your bra and letting it drop down to the floor, forgotten. He bent his head to lick at one perfect nipple, rolling his tongue around the bud until it tightened, then sucking it sharply into his mouth. His other hand drifted down between your thighs, rubbing unceremoniously against the thick seam of your jeans with his long fingers.

“I can feel you,” he mumbled against your breast, “soaking fuckin’ wet.”

His words thrummed through you like live wires dancing across your skin. You felt absolutely electric, overstimulated, nerve endings sizzling wherever Steve touched you. Keening, you bucked against his hand, letting a breathless whisper tumble from your lips.

“‘S’all for you, Steve, my pussy’s ready just for you.”

Your filthy words spurred him on, a low, gritty laugh escaping him as he shoved you gently back on to your bed.

“God damn, honey, keep talkin’ like that and I’ll fuckin’ blow my load all over those beautiful tits.” He crawled over you, hovering there while he slowly unfastened your jeans and slid them down your legs, leaving you nearly bare in your bra and panties. Once he had you where he wanted you, he leaned back on his heels, running a hand appreciatively down your body.

“Anyone ever tell you that you’re gorgeous?”

You arched into his touch, his long fingers tracing over your throat, your breasts, your stomach, finally to the ache between your legs, where he dipped them under the elastic of your panties to tease at your heated folds.

“That’s right baby, you are drenched, aren’t you?” His voice was soft, intimate, but his tone was rough with need. You couldn’t take your eyes off him, meeting his icy-blue gaze and nodding as touched you. “Yeah,” he continued, a smirk sliding across his lips, “that pussy’s all mine tonight, isn’t it? You gonna let me do whatever I want to you?”

“Yes,” you moaned, arching into his touch, urging his fingers to slip inside your soaked cunt. Steve obliged, sliding them inside you and curling them just right, hitting that sweet spot that made your pussy clench.

“God, that’s nice,” Steve murmured absently, staring down at the spot where his fingers disappeared inside you, “you got such a pretty pussy, honey. I bet it tastes sweet, too.”

He pulled his fingers out and licked them clean while you watched, his tongue dancing over the digits. You felt like you would burn up at the sight, right there in your bed, the flames of your raging fucking need for your partner to just fuck you, torching you right where you lay.

“God damn, I was right,” Steve smiled at you when your essence was cleaned from his hand. “Now I’m gonna eat that pussy while you lay there for me, okay? You gonna be my good little whore and cum on my fuckin’ tongue?”

You whined in response, writhing your hips involuntarily, seeking out the friction you needed. Steve placed a large palm against you, fingers splayed against the softness of your lower belly while his palm pressed firmly on your clit. A whine left your throat at his touch.

“Fuck me, honey,” he swore, “those pretty sounds make me want to get inside you.” Looking down at his hand, he contemplated his next move while you waited breathlessly. His eyes flicked up to yours, pupils blown out in anticipation. You let your hand drift to his lap, once again roughly massaging his dick through his jeans and feeling a victorious surge of arousal when his own groan cut through the silence, long and low and deep.

In a flash, Steve moved away from you to stand next to the bed, tearing off his pants and boxers to reveal his cock bobbing proudly against his lower abdomen. The slick spot of precum trailing from the tip had you licking your lips hungrily; as much as you wanted him buried deep inside your pussy, you’d take him down your throat again, too.

“You’re gonna have to wait,” he warned, dropping to his knees and pulling you to the edge, “I’ve been thinking about gettin’ my mouth on this pussy for months.”

With that, he dove in, licking a long, hot stripe from your soaking folds to your clit, then again and again, urging you toward your release. His tongue pressed just right against you, earning cries and moans that spurred him on more.

“God, you taste good,” Steve mumbled against your skin, alternating long and slow licks with quick flicks of his tongues, praise and filthy declarations falling from his lips as he worked you.

“That’s right, honey, you’re such a good girl, lettin’ me taste you like this.” He wrapped his lips around your clit for effect and sucked lightly, the sensation nearly sending your body off the bed in blinding ecstasy. “Yeah, that’s right,” he whispered against your swollen bud, “you’re gonna cum for me right? Right here in my mouth? ‘Cause I’d sure like to drink you up . . .”

He returned to sucking you, applying just the right amount of pressure to get you off, and slid three fingers into your dripping cunt.

“Fuck, Steve!” you cried, arching your back off the bed. You heard his low laugh from between your legs.

“You’re gettin’ close, aren’t you, honey?”

“Mmmhmmm.” You were beyond words now, unable to form a coherent response at the onslaught of Steve’s mouth and fingers working you. His tongue was magical, sucking and licking you just right, as if he somehow knew exactly how to get you to shatter. You felt that sweet, electric heat start to spiral right from your pussy throughout your body, your limbs growing tense at your nearing release.

“Fuck, Steve - fuck - right there, yes,” you babbled, words tumbling from your lips as your climax roared through you. You cried out, again, over and over, relishing the feeling of your lips circling the sound of his name, and he stayed with you through it all, licking and moaning as you flooded his senses with your delicious orgasm.

Steve pressed his face against you, lapping your cum as it trickled over his fingers. It was almost enough to make him cum, right there between your legs, his mustache and chin drenched.

“My god,” Steve uttered once you had come down from your high, trailing his tongue lazily up your slit again to capture anything he’d missed, “you taste better than I could have imagined, honey.” He pressed a kiss against your inner thigh before rising from the floor and flopping beside you on the bed.

“C’mere,” he pulled you over to roll on top of him, watching you with hungry eyes as you settled your still-aching core over his pulsing cock. “You’re beautiful,” he said, almost reverently, reaching up to brush a thumb over your nipple. Smiling bashfully, you rolled your hips slowly against his cock, the tip nudging your entrance on each pass.

“I want you inside me,” you whispered down at him, smiling softly at the glazed, sexed-out look in his eyes.

“Nothin’ I want more,” he smirked, guiding you up so that he could hold himself in place, a low groan escaping him as your pussy swallowed his dick inch by inch.

“Fuck, honey.”

You began to move, slowly, your pussy clenching against him on every stroke. He felt better than you thought possible, like you were made just to take him like this.

“Steve,” you whimpered, your pace quickening already, the sensation of him sliding over your g-spot bringing you closer and closer to your climax.

“What do you need, baby? Tell me,” he urged his big hands resting against your hips, helping you move against him. Unable to express what you needed in words, you planted your hands against his chest and rolled your hips down roughly, taking him as deep as possible so that you could feel every delicious inch of him.

"Fuck, I'm not gonna last long," Steve breathed, hips rising to meet yours. "So pretty, so perfect," he mumbled, "wanna just fuckin' make you feel good."

"God, you are," you sighed, bending over to kiss Steve softly. He responded eagerly, his mouth slanting against yours, tongues tangling languidly. You felt that fire building throughout your body and moved faster, harder, his hands gripping the flesh of your ass to help slam you down on his cock.

You sat up straight again, your fingers traveling down to where you were joined and rubbing tight circles on your clit. Steve watched, open-mouthed, as you helped him bring you to the brink.

"Touch that pussy, honey," he ground out, his own thrusts becoming sloppy. His balls tightened and he pushed his fingers against yours, both of you sliding through your slick to stimulate your clit. "Fuck, I'm gonna come soon," he growled, "need to you tell me where, pretty girl."

Your cunt clenched around Steve, your orgasm sparking down your spine, lightning heat growing low in your belly.

“FIll me up,” you managed to moan, bright white flashing behind your eyes as you came around his cock, hard, your release soaking the coarse blond curls beneath your pussy.

Steve groaned, his dick locked in your grip. He managed to thrust once more up into you before his own orgasm tore through him. Pressing you down against him in a bruising grip, Steve let your pussy milk his cock, jets of cum pulsing up into you.

He groaned through his release, a whine in the back of his throat sending you over the edge again. You whimpered, head thrown back, your fingers tangled with Steve’s where they clutched your hips.

Reaching up, Steve cupped the back of your head and brought you down to him in a searing kiss, your breasts pressed against the sheen of sweat coating his chest. His tongue twisted with yours, devouring your mouth possessively.

“You’re fuckin’ amazing, honey,” he whispered roughly, breaking the kiss you rest his forehead against yours. Gently, he rolled you over so that you were tucked under him, his cock still seated deep inside of you. He kissed you again, deeply, sweetly, his hand coming down to cup your cheek.

Despite being bone-tired, you responded eagerly, letting your own fingers twist in his hair. Your cunt clenched around his length, now hardening again. Rolling your hips experimentally, you broke away and grinned up at him.

“You wanna try again?”

Steve smirked above you, a roll of his blue eyes making you giggle. “You just don’t know when to fuckin’ stop, do you?” His forearms rested on either side of your head, his mouth hovering over yours.

“I thought you said ‘just this once,’” Steve teased, his lips brushing against yours.

Your stomach gave an odd flip as you looked up at him, that cocky smile lighting up something warm inside you. Offering a little shrug, you responded with a smile.

“I just think you can do better.”

#steve murphy #steve murphy x reader #narcos #narcos fanfiction #narcos fanfic #steve murphy x you #boyd holbrook

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y-rhywbeth2 · 6 months

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Lore: Drow #1

Cultures, Part 1 Link: Disclaimer regarding D&D "canon" & Lore Index [WIP] [tldr: D&D lore is a giant conflicting mess. Larian's lore is also a conflicting mess. You learn to take what you want and leave the rest]

Ssri'Tel'Quessir, the People of Darkness. I love these messy little bastards so much. An eye for an eye might make the whole world blind, but that is the price the drow are willing to pay.

They're also a surprisingly diverse bunch, and since everybody knows the backstabbing social darwinist spider-matriarchy, let's talk about some of the other drow cultures first. Let's see, there's the split between the dark elves of Ilythiir and Miyeritar; the original dark elves; the surprisingly large number of different hidden societies of surface drow; aquatic dark elves; the merchant clans... This isn't even quite all of them, it was just getting long so I had to stop there.

Also, which asshole was responsible for naming a place “Jhachalkhyn”? Come here. I just want to talk...

---

Dark elves, pre-Descent: Information on the dark elves before their exile tends to be scarce.

They and the Green Elves are branches of the same elven ethnic group, and these two were the first elves to arrive on Toril, and the first of their people to travel through it, learn it and build their homes on it (alongside some avariel). The dark and green elves were the most aggressive and highly driven of their people, and the dark elves were the most successfully established - initially.

Dark elves have always been described as dark skinned, though their skin was originally brown and became desaturated as a mark of their banishment. Whether their hair was always pale or whether it was originally dark has varied by source. Black hair is a rarely seen recessive gene amongst drow, and the green elves have blonde hair as a rare colour, so it's quite possibly both.

As green elves are significantly taller than the drow, one can assume that the dark elves have grown smaller over their 10,000+ years living in the Underdark.

Miyeritari VS Ilythiiri Better covered in-depth when I get to elven history:

In short, Ilythiir was the first elven kingdom on Toril and a beacon of elven culture and glory for thousands of years. It grew into a corrupt empire (and was hardly the only example of its kind; imperialism, corruption and intrigue isn't the sole domain of the dark elves). The Ilythiiri were eventually corrupted by Lolth, and their actions in the numerous wars between the elven empires - and unwillingness to stop despite (almost) every other elven nation wanting the centuries of nonstop war to end - became so bad that the other elves and the Seldarine banished them from the surface in a High Magic ritual called the Descent of the Drow or the Curse of the Seldarine, binding the dark elves to the ambient faerzress radiation of the Underdark, which cut them off from the elven gods and the Weave.

The result of this is that drow no longer have their innate connection to the elven afterlife/plane of origin, Arvandor. They may still go to that afterlife, if they worship the Seldarine or Eilistraee, but they are not welcome there by default. While they are no less cut off from the Weave than any other race, and may practice magic, they do not have an innate connection to it and their lifespans are reduced from 700+ years to around 350 (although individual drow have been known to live far longer, and editions have not been consistent on this). It is also supposedly responsible for sunlight blinding and causing unbearable pain to the drow, and allowed the elves to drive the dhaerow into the Underdark. (It should also be noted that the effects of faerzress seem to wear off over time, if a drow leaves the Underdark. Their sunlight sensitivity also fades with time. Returning to the Underdark will cause them to fall back under the radiation's effect.)

The Ilythiiri drow feel that they won the Fourth Crown War, and that the Seldarine (especially Corellon) condoning their exile and showing blatant favouritism to the other elves despite their own war crimes is unjust (especially in light of the crimes committed against the dark elves of Miyeritar by the sun elves of Aryvandaar).

Over the course of their history, the Ilythiiri mixed their blood with that of the demon lord Wendonai, and as a result of having the balor for an ancestor, dark elves of Ilythiiri descent often have red eyes. It's genetic, and the most often seen eye colour on drow.

Miyeritar was a nation further north, in the location of what is now the High Moor. Their primary religion was that of Eilistraee, a Chaotic Good dark elven goddess of moonlight, dance, hunting and music. The majority of its population was dark elven, living alongside a significant number of their green elven cousins. It was eventually annexed by the neighbouring sun elven empire of Aryvandaar, and later annihilated in an act of genocide that also utterly destroyed Eilistraee's church for the better part of a millennia and severely weakened her ability to counter Lolth's influence. Two notable enclaves of Miyeritaran refugees secretly survived with the help of the neighbouring moon elven empire of Illefarn, who gave them out-of-the-way land to settle on within their borders and hid them from the Aryvandaan forces. These grew into the cities of Ascarle, the underwater City of Ice and Fire, and Jhachalkhyn, the subterranean City of Eternal Twilight.

Unlike their cousins, the Miyeritari had no connection to the violence of the wars except as victims, but the Curse of the Seldarine didn't merely single out the Ilythiiri, and all dark elves were exiled from the People. This betrayal led to a significant amount of bitterness, and allowed Lolth a foothold amongst the dark elves of Jhachalkhyn.

Something many drow, regardless of ancestry, affiliation or reasoning agree on is something along the lines of the following:

"[Drow] burn with hatred for the Seldarine and their coddled children, and want nothing more than to return to the surface and bring to the elves there suffering a thousand times greater than that which the drow have been forced to endure over the past ten thousand years."

The drow refer to the surface elves as Darthiiri (Darthiir, in singular), meaning "traitor."

The Jhachalkhynnar drow became radicalised from within over time, ousting opposing voices and eventually turning their blades against their green elven Miyeritari kin (who had been spared their magically enforced exile); the Illefarn darthiiri who had once sheltered them; and the dark elven Ascarleans (who had temporarily side-stepped the Descent by magically transforming themselves into a unique form of sea elf (this protective loophole didn't last, as some survivors of Jhachalkhyn's genocide later learned))

The Jhachalkhynnar drow have cooperated with their Ilythiiri neighbours at times, though drow of Miyeritari heritage are not terribly welcoming of their cousins, blaming them for their fate as much as they do the surface elves.

Around 1372-ish DR another High Magic ritual was cast to remove the curse from dark elves descended from the Miyeritari. They are no longer bound to the faerzress, and it no longer inhibits their innate elven connection to the Seldarine, Arvandor and the Weave. Their skin has regained its original saturation and sunlight no longer pains them. (This little incident with the dark elves changing back kind of just got forgotten as canon went forward, so information about what this small population of Ssri'Tel'Quessir are actually doing in the world after this is non-existent.)

Surface drow (EIlistraeean): Although they have never been focused on, apparently there are plenty of surface-dwelling dark elves living quietly out of sight, deep within quiet woodlands (often deep within the tropical forests, down South) minding their own business - 22% of all drow live on the surface and most of their communities worship Eilistraee as their primary deity. Some of them are exiles, self-imposed or voluntary, who came to the surface. Some of them resisted the Descent and never left the surface in the first place.

Part of the reason their population is so large is simply that the founders of these communities chose to live in peace rather than constant warfare and backstabbing, and thus their population has been able to grow unhindered. These communities do have to be on guard against attacks, especially from Lolthite and Vhaeraunite drow, and do their best to go unnoticed by other surfacers, but mostly get on with their lives in peace.

Their population sometimes also includes a minority of other elves and half-elves.

As of 5e, these settlements (which do long precede 5e, regardless of whoever's complaining about how drow must all be evil or that non-evil drow are special exceptions) likely include Callidae and Saekolath, founded by drow who never followed Lolth or descended into the Underdark in the first place. When the drow were banished, some drow simply left for the most remote places they could find and stayed there.

A few places where surface drow exist include:

The High Forest, which features a sacred site, has a small population of drow.

Callidae is a city of about 50,000 people, built inside a glacier in the far North. Callidae is unknown to anyone except for the neighbouring Ulutiun humans and arctic dwarves, who they coexist with.

Saekolath is furthest South, deep within one of the jungles, and their culture places great emphasis on living attuned with the nature that surrounds them. They are highly isolationist, and avoid all contact.

As of 1490, after the Second Sundering when Eilistraee announced her return by manifesting outside of the city walls of Waterdeep, many of her followers have migrated to the city to build a shrine to her there. Despite the hostility dark elves face from surfacers, they were assisted by allies in the Harpers, and the shrine stands in the North Ward despite the fact that the city does not particularly welcome them.

These communities are Eilistraeean, and their worship often incorporates the Seldarine and the Dark Maiden's allies as well; Callarduaran Smoothhands (patron god of Deep Gnomes), Haela Brightaxe (the cheerful dwarven goddess of battle), Lurue, Mystra, and Selûne - plus any other gods that might appeal to an individual, past the communal level. Some communities will even send a pacifying offering to Vhaeraun now and then, to keep them hidden from the eyes of the world. Worshipping Lolth, on the other hand, is not going to go down well, ever.

Eilistraeeans are not the only drow communities on the surface however, and her brother Vhaeraun also encourages his followers to seek the surface world for very different reasons.

Maeralynnar Drow: Some of the descendants of the aquatic dark elves of Ascarle have their own city in the Underdark. Their ancestors were given a new home in a hidden space along the coast, and fell in love with the sea, using magic to turn themselves into sea elves so that they could live beneath the waves. When the armies of Jhachalkhyn arrived, the survivors were those who fled or who were away at the time. Survivors include House Ildroun and House Meirityn, who fled into the warmer seas to the South.

In 882 DR, Lady Maerala of House Meirityn was experimenting with a High Magic ritual that would allow her and her people to alternate between their sea elven and original dark elven forms at will, allowing them to survive on land and in sea. Unfortunately for her, while the spell worked and allows them to now switch between aquatic and terrestrial forms, upon taking on their original dark elven forms they were subject to the Curse of the Seldarine and branded as drow. The descendants of Ascarle had by this point forgotten their history as Ssri'Tel'Quessir - 10,000+ years is a long time even for elves, and Maerala and her house had been driven out by 887 DR

The refugees established themselves in the Seadark (the ocean in the Underdark), building the city of Maeralyn (no prizes for guessing who that's named after). The drow of the city divided their time between learning how to survive the Underdark and uncovering the explanation for their transformation. They eventually found it in 1051 DR, when Maerala managed to trace her people's tracks back to Ascarle (currently under new, non-elven management. Specifically a mind flayer, oddly enough) There she met a kraken named Slarkrethel (who is also pretty important, but not in a way that really matters much here). In exchange for serving the ancient sea monster, he taught her of her ancestors and the betrayal they suffered.

As there was nothing the Maeralynnar could do about the exile placed on them by the gods, they went for the next best thing, and in 1357 DR they launched an attack on the Jhachakhynnar drow, slaughtered the vast majority and razed their city to the ground. They looted every Miyeritaran artefact and scrap of culture they could get and took it home to Maeralyn.

Little else is said about them, except that their society is currently held hostage to the will of a titanic, ancient sea monster running a massive information network spanning the North of Faerûn. They currently serve as spies.

In their aquatic form, sea elves of dark elven heritage take on skin in shades of deep green, banded with irregular brown patches and stripes. Their hair comes in various colours including white and silver. Also they have gills around their collar bones and over their ribs and webbed digits, standard aquatic elf stuff.

The description given for the Maeralynnar elves in aquatic form is also the description given for one subgroup of aquatic elves in Races of Faerûn. From this we can assume that that write up is how these dark elves' culture has also worked for 10,887 years, during which they would have missed out on the development of drow culture and related bitterness.

They are ruled by a ranked nobility, and this group in particular had a monarchy. Traditionally, the titles are passed down the male line in a mild patriarchal tradition, but it seems that in Maerala's case the kingdom was either matriarchal or egalitarian, with the monarch being elected from amongst the nobility by their proving their merit through some great service to society or useful discovery.

The community is very tightly knit and prizes cooperation, for the sake of survival. There is no concept of private property, and all things within the community belong to everybody. (This does not extend to outsiders, who can expect a stabbing if they try to take anything)

Aquatic elves have little contact with the world above sea level and are wary of outsiders. In light of their exile, ancestral history and current environment, this trend has likely been strengthened and may have led to a culture of mistrust and xenophobia.

Their martial training involves tridents, spears and nets. Due to a history of living in the water, and the new amphibious lifestyle, they tend to favour wearing as little as possible and making sure that whatever they wear allows them to dress and undress quickly - or at best doesn't hamper their swimming in the water.

Most elves wear their hair long, but warriors keep it short.

Maeralynnar drow lack the small stature and the sexual dimorphism of regular drow (men are, on average, smaller and thinner than women). They standing at the same height range as the humans of the Realms.

Due to the removal of the curse from Miyeritaran dark elves around 1372-ish DR, the Maeralynnar are no longer magically exiled. What effect that might have had on their society is also unknown.

Presumably they aren't currently under Lolth's sway - not fully, anyway (although considering she tends to consider the dark elves "hers," she's likely to have tried to change that).

Eilistraee, as a goddess who actively reaches out to all drow, and the historical patron of their Miyeritari ancestors who the Maeralynnar are so interested in connecting with, is a likely candidate for worship.

Living by and in the oceans as they do, Umberlee will hold a primary position in their religious practices. Sea elves fall under the purview of the elven god of the sea and knowledge, Deep Sashelas, and they would have been worshipping him as a primary deity before their exile in 887 DR. While becoming drow might've strained their relationship, it's possible that the Maeralynnar continue to worship the Seldarine (who generally have no problems accepting drow, as long as they're not brainwashed by Lolth or similar cults).

Merchant Clans: Drow are one of the most prominent traders in the Underdark. Trade with their inferiors is beneath the Matriarchs of the Noble Houses of the various drow cities, and so it falls to those living outside their walls to interact with outsiders. The Matrons insist that the merchants are irrelevant, however the trade they bring is the vital lifeline of drow cities. Without them even Menzoberranzan would be in trouble.

Different clans organise them differently, but the trend is for there to be some kind of "inner ring" or council calling the shots. Membership will consist of the wealthiest and most experienced merchants, and many of them will be men. Interactions with outsiders is a dangerous and demeaning task, best left to inferiors.

Many of the men in the inner ring are wizards - Lolthite society has a tradition called The Test; when a wizard reaches a certain level of power, he is subject to examination by the Spider Queen to see if she's happy with a male wielding power. If she's not, he gets to enjoy the rest of his life in permanent agony and hunger as a drider. Some wizards, deciding that they'd rather not risk the whims of an infamously fickle and sadistic goddess prone to trolling, simply pack up and get a job outside the city as a trader.

While the merchants are no less arrogant than the average drow, as a rule, they are far more relaxed around outsiders and surfacers, and the "second ring" of drow trade organisations are quite happy to have non-drow on staff in manager positions.

The "assets" - the lowest ranks in the organisation, menial labourers and low ranking guards - are almost entirely made up of non-drow.

Merchant clans are just as likely to fight amongst themselves as the Houses - moreso, in fact, because in the open Underdark it's a free-for-all.

Some cities are/were governed by the clans instead of the noble houses: The city of Eryndlyn, located in the Underdark under the High Moor where Miyeritar once stood, is ruled by various merchant clans. The city was founded by drow seeking to recover the lost empire, and was a major trading hub for the various peoples of the Underdark, and even saw traffic from the surface when there are (usually less than moral) surfacers willing to risk trade with the likes of drow and duergar. Eryndlyn thrived specifically because its settlers founded it with an areligious view in mind. For a while, most of its conflict came from the various merchant clans squabbling and engaging in intrigue against each other for wealth and influence. Eventually the city was infiltrated by the cults of the drow gods Lolth, Vhaeraun and Ghaunadaur (who is technically god of oozes, but he is technically in the Dark Seldarine). One of the key ways to make your cult profitable in Eryndlyn, incidentally, is to make sure people know it's profitable. The city was effectively been split into three sections, where the faiths of the three ruled the city through the clans. There was no open warfare, but the friction between the three makes living in (and especially governing) the city highly difficult. During 1372 DR, when Lolth broke contact with Toril to focus on moving house (long story, different post), the Vhaeraunites and Ghaunadaurans allied in order to destroy the Lolthite presence. The ensuing civil war destroyed a large third of the city.

The city was destroyed in the Spellplague, in 1385 DR because fourth edition hates me personally. However, most of the residents had already left to get away from the civil war and have mostly just relocated elsewhere.

#Aquatic Dark Elves who walked into the drow nonsense 100 centuries late with a starbucks are my new favourite thing #Thank you Eric L. Boyd and George Krashos #I am absolutely going to build a campaign and at least one PC on this concept #drow tav #half drow tav #long post #seldarine drow

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writingquestionsanswered · 11 months

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I finally have motivation to write but no inspiration. I have a bunch of ideas, but not well fleshed-out, pretty weak, and feels there's no "point" to the story. But I'm struggling to add more to it. I don't feel inspired. There is no drive for my own WIPs. I do have a creative well. I just feel like I'm lacking the heart for writing. But I get so pumped when I see others' WIPs! It's like I have apathy for my own ideas. Am I just not creative enough to be a writer?

Struggling with Creativity & Inspiration

If you feel your "creative well" is full and you're still struggling to find inspiration, I definitely wouldn't jump to the conclusion that you're not creative enough to be a writer. There are a lot of other places where there might be an issue… 1 - You Don't Know Enough About How Stories Work - This is honestly the biggest obstacle for newest writers to overcome. Humanity is so invested in stories, yet the vast majority of us don't really know how they work. Kind of like cars or cell phones. They're a part of daily life for a lot of us, but most of us couldn't really explain a lot about how they work. There are all different kinds of stories and they all work in different ways, but most of them revolve around conflict and follow basic story structure. In fact, most of our favorite stories move forward in the same general way. Once you master these basics, it's easier to flesh out your ideas and figure out where to go with them. My Plot & Story Structure master list is a good place to start.

2 - Your Expectations Are Askew - The next biggest obstacle for newer writers is the mistaken belief that writing should be easy... that you can just sit down with an idea and off you go to write the story that will make you famous. Of course, that isn't how writing works at all. Even if you know how stories work, have fleshed out ideas, an outline, motivation and inspiration, time and energy... you still have to put the words down on paper, and that requires thought and effort as well as acceptance that what you write isn't going to be as amazing as you want it to be. Not until you've written a lot of bad and mediocre stories. And even then, your first drafts will never be final drafts. You have to give yourself permission to write an unpolished mess before you can polish it up into something pretty.

3 - You're Getting Hung Up On Silly Things - If you're anything but an experienced writer, you don't need to worry about "the point" to your story. You don't have to worry about underlying messages, your writing style, motif and theme... You have to focus on quantity before quality, and all those other things will fall into place. If you give yourself permission to write stories that have messy plots, lack point or purpose, have characters with sketchy arcs if any at all, and which aren't super well written, you can learn to write stories where all of those things are really well done.

So... learn the basics of how stories work, then just sit down and write. Take an idea and run with it. Do a writing prompt. Write some fan-fiction. Give yourself permission to write something that won't be good, that you might not even finish. Just start. Don't worry about point. Don't worry about message Don't worry about theme. Don't worry about style. Just start writing. You're not here to write a masterpiece... not yet. :)

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cha-melodius · 3 months

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Lawyer who thinks he doesn't have a soulmate abruptly finds himself being held captive by criminals in his soulmate's body

BODY SWAPPING???????????

Oh this is probably my newest addition to the WIP list, but as such is one I really really want to write right away lmao.

I never thought I would write a soulmate AU. When I first thought of this one I was like, this will never work. But the idea wouldn't leave me alone, and finally my brain figured out some practicalities for this universe, so I guess it's on now.

The concept here is that at some point you start swapping bodies with your soulmate. The swaps are short at first, no more than 10 minutes, and usually people take this time to write down their contact info the first time it happens so they can actually meet their soulmate (after which they stop swapping). There are also shields that you can wear—usually as a pendant—that prevent you from swapping if you're doing something like driving a car or performing heart surgery or are in a sensitive situation like in a courtroom or something. Wearing a shield all the time is bad for you, though, starts fucking with your head, which is why no one does it... except for people like spies.

Enter Alex, a young lawyer who has never once body-swapped with his soulmate. He believes this is because he doesn't have one, but also jokes that's because his soulmate is a spy. Henry, on the other hand, has never swapped because he has a shield implanted in his arm—dangerous, but common for those in covert intelligence. One day he's on a mission that goes sideways, though, and his shield gets damaged/removed, which means he and Alex immediately swap. Like, in the middle of a rooftop chase. To make matters worse, Henry gets captured, and while he's being held captive without a shield, they start swapping frequently.

At first, no one believes Alex when he tells them that actually, yes, his soulmate appears to be some kind of spy. At least until someone (Bea) shows up at his door to protect him and because she needs his help to rescue his soulmate.

ANYWAY, sorry I went a little overboard here but I couldn't help myself. I'm a little worried about this one only because of the fact that Alex and Henry don't actually MEET until the end, basically, but it still haunts me, so I really want to write it anyway. Plus, writing a bunch of Alex and Bea bonding is very appealing too.

[Ask me about my badly summarized WIPs]

#my wips #rwrb wips #spy soulmate au

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thatbanditqueen · 1 year

Text

Basic Training Ch 3

A response to the prompt: "You're staring." Thanks to my harem cohort @vintageshanny @missmaywemeetagain @ellie-24 @from-memphis-with-love @be-my-ally @powerofelvis and @whositmcwhatsit

Summary: Bess heads to the dance the Morale, Welfare and Recreation Committee for the 37th armored tank division is throwing, and manages to avoid dancing with the most notorious soldier on post, who cannot seem to take his eyes off her.

Warnings: None! Wait, kissing. Swear words. This may be the slowest burn yet. Probably typos, I wrote about 1K words over the last three days and then the rest in a fever dream. So.... may not make sense. Also I am pretty sure the first phase of basic training would not have them in tanks yet, but....I am playing fast and loose with Army life in this one.

Word Count: 5. 3 K

This is my newest WIP, please like, comment, reblog and tag and let me know what you think. Thank you for reading.

You can catch up on the previous chapters here

Basic Training Chapter 3: Just Kiss Me

Saturday, April 5, 1958

7:30 p.m.

The Schwartz Residence, Killeen

Just as her shoe hit the bottom stair, Bess realized she had left her lipstick in her room and was turning back around to grab it when she saw Kay sitting in the living room, dressed in a pink cocktail dress. Her puffy crinoline skirt was gathered in a heap around her as she shifted in place, adjusting her pearl necklace.

“Um, where do you think you are going?”

Kay looked up, tucking her brown hair behind her ear as she eyed the tight, fitted sheath dress Bess was wearing. She smiled at how the white sequins and embroidered red flowers glowed iridescent in the dim light and whistled low.

“Who are you dressing up for? The guy who you snuck in last weekend?”

“What makes you think there’s a guy, Katherine, honestly. I don’t sneak men into our house.”

“Uh huh, so you’re all gussied up in your favorite dress just for a bunch of enlisted soldiers?”

Kay grabbed her purse and followed her sister to the door.

“Why are you being weird Bess, I always come with you? You’ve been going to army dances since you were sixteen. I’m about to graduate, plus, I told Dickey I’d meet him there.”

Bess sighed, thinking of Kay’s latest boyfriend. She supposed that she should be happy because he seemed like a harmless nerd, and, according to the files she had pulled on him, was not married, inbred or bankrupt.

“I just - we - I didn’t invite you to this dance because it’s an enlisted platoon. I didn’t think you were coming.”

“Wow, you must really like who ever it is, if you don’t want me to see you with him. Too bad. Dori called earlier and told me to come. She’s been trying to reach you all day, by the way.”

Bess locked the door, and they got into her car.

“Can you believe her date?”

“Mmmhmmm.”

“Of course, then it all made sense why you guys would be messing around with an enlisted tank unit. How did Dori even get involved with their MWR Committee.”

Bess rolled up her skirt so she could comfortably drive, and shifted into reverse, arching her eye bow at her younger sister as she did.

“How do you think? She asked to be reassigned to it two weeks ago.”

“Man oh man, she really is lucky. I wonder if we’ll all get to dance with Elvis?”

“Look, Kay, they sent out a memo to everyone, do NOT make a spectacle over Private Presley. Just act like he’s any other solider”

“Of course Bessie bushka. I’m on my best behavior.”

Bess looked Kay in the eyes as they pulled through the base gate.

“I am just going because I told Dori I would, I don’t wanna stay too late. So maybe Dickey Rooney can drive you home if you wanna swing all night?”

“Yeah, sure, ja volt. You don’t have to be ein klafte, Elisabet.”

**************************************************************

The tight cloth of her dress didn’t have much give, and Bess regretted her choice as she tried to keep up and hold on as she danced

“Look, this is tactical move that requires delicate maneuvers—”

“I’m not spiking the punch, Jim.”

Bess huffed and got into her rhythm as they kept up with the band’s rendition of “Tutti Fruity.” If she let her self relax and swing into each step, it was almost like old times when she, Jim and Ben used to go out dancing in Austin or Killeen and she’d take turns dancing with her fiancee and his best friend all night. They had been the three musketeers. But that was last year, when she had a fiancee. And a different future peering back at her from her crystal ball.

The music brought her out of her silent reverie, and Bess looked to her where the band was performing on stage. The lead singer’s voice reverberated through the building, echoing up into the tin ceiling and back down again, making the room buzz with energy. There were six people in the all-Black Flapjacks: drums, guitar, bass, trumpet and then a male and female vocalist. The men wore matching silver dinner jackets and black bow ties, and the beautiful, Black woman had on a gorgeous silver dress with tulle flowers at the bust.

Bess took a deep breath, her attention shifted back to Jim, whose hands were always steady, but never needy. She was grateful he had agreed to come when she called last night and asked. A year ago they had spent almost all their free time together. Stalwart, an honorable prankster, Jim wasn’t shipping out to the Army Intelligence station in Heidelberg for another two months and Bess wondered if their friendship would end. If Ben’s new German wife would win him over and, like his friend before him, Jim would forget all about the last three years of shared adventures and promises of a lifelong friendship. Men mean it in the moment, Bess thought, I suppose women do to. Forever. What a meaningless word. How can we plan forever when we cannot know the future? The song ended and Jim escorted her off to the side. She looked for her sister, and found her swaying with her beau towards the back, hands clasped together between the lock-eyed look of first love.

“I forgot how good a dancer you are, Schwartz. And in that dress, whoowee! You’re a knock out tonight.”

“You can cut the flattery, Jameson, still not spiking the punch.”

“S’not flattery, how dare you insinuate that I would be disingenuous? You look good all dolled up, s'nice to see you this way. It’s almost like fun Bess is back, though a year ago she wudda helped me spike the punch.”

He took out his large, dark leather flask and handed it to her after taking a nip. Bess’ face scrunched up in distaste as the vodka burned down her throat, but she greedily held on and took another long drink.

“A year ago I didn’t work here, I was just hanging out with some of the reprobates from the German language division. Now it would be bad form for a Front Office secretary to spike the punch.”

“Look around, Bessie, this crowd needs to relax. They’re alllllll keyed up waiting for that Hound Dog.”

Jim was right, a heightened sense of anticipation pervaded the warehouse, even the strings of colorful paper lanterns seemed to sway with anxious excitement above them. Bess looked over at the big bowl of punch, next to the trays of deviled eggs, brisket sliders, the lime jello mold filled with seafood salad, pineapple upside down cake and more. She was sizing up the punch and checking her breath as they waited for the next song when she heard a wave of hushed murmurs ripple through the large room and turned to see Elvis, Dori and a few other soldiers in dress uniform enter the dance together. Bess’ eyes narrowed as Elvis’ looked at her.

Jim followed her gaze, then met Bess’ eyes.

“There he is, as handsome as he looks in the movies.”

Bess’ grimace could have cut through glass as she turned to her friend and elbowed him.

“Not you too?”

“What, art thou so high above us mere mortals that you don’t find Elvis Presley attractive, Schwartz? To gouache for a scholar like you?”

“It’s Private Presley now. And I’m not made of marble, Captain. Of course I recognize his attractive features. He just isn’t my type.”

She sniffed, and grabbed the flask from inside Jim’s uniform, the breath coming out of her nose forcefully as she drank a long draught.

“I’ve met him, actually, already. I was there.” Bess took another drink, tipping the flask back again and noticing that the liquid didn’t burn so much this time. “When he asked Dori out. I’m happy for her.”

Elvis and Dori began walking toward them, and Jim noticed how Bess’ stance changed as she crossed her arms and pursed her lips, suggesting that she what felt was the opposite of 'happy for Dori.'

“Well, I was at the press conference his first day here, at least four reporters asked if he has a girlfriend. Said he was playing the field so many times, sounded like a broken record.”

Bess straightened as she watched Elvis’ hand tighten around Dori’s waist and push under her bust while the blonde leaned into it and introduced Elvis to some of the eager MWR committee members who had stopped them.

“Yeah, that would be the alternate version of Hound Dog, it’s on the B side.”

Jim chuckled at Bess’ joke, but she didn’t notice, she was busy watching the Hound Dog himself, and caught Elvis glance over at her and give a little nod before his lips bent into a smirk. She realized she was frowning and plastered a big smile on her face. Jim watched this exchange with interest as Bess turned back when he spoke.

“Yeah, I see what you mean. Definitely not your type.”

Bess scowled and whispered for him to stop as Elvis, Dori and another soldier approached them.

“Why Captain Daniels, how nice to see ya over at this little ol’ dance for the 37th, are you Bess’ date ta night? Or sneaking in to try and meet you-know-who?”

Dori giggled and playfully tapped Elvis’ chest. In case, you know, they didn’t get whom she was referencing.

Jim nodded and shook his hand to stop Elvis and the other soldier from saluting him.

“Oh, neither, actually, I’m just here to make sure Schwartz doesn’t spike the punch.”

“Don’t believe a word the Captain here says. This is a great introduction, by the way. Captain Daniels, meet Private Presley, you know Doreen of course, and then, well, I cannot say we’re acquainted.”

The liquor had loosened Bess up and she giddily put out her hand to the other soldier, as Elvis fiddled with the blue dress uniform cap under his right arm and took charge of the conversation.

“This is Rexadus, I mean, uh, Private Mansfield, he’s in the 37th wit me, another Mephisss boy, we were inducted ta gather, actually." Now Elvis was turning his hat over and examining it, speaking with confidence, almost as if from a script he had rehearsed in his head. "He’s a solid, solid, guy. He really is. Guess I’m lucky, since he’s spending all his time stuck in a metal box with my ass - I mean stuck with my behind.”

Rex her shook their hands with tight, swift grip and a warm smile. Jim raised his eyebrows at Bess.

“And how do you find the Army, so far, Privates?”

“Well, it was easy ta find, just follow all the tanks.” Elvis smiled and looked down. “Nah, well, speaking’ jus for me, I mean, I was real honored when President Eisenhower sent me an invitation to this here costume party, and all the boys are real nice."

There was that scripted voice again, Bess mused. She had seen under the hood and Elvis' attitude toward being drafted had not struck her as honored and grateful.

"It’s not easy, golly, I tell you, it’s really whooping my - uh - caboose. But I never felt I earned my supper so well, that’s the God’s honest truth.”

Dori giggled like Elvis was the wittiest man in the world, but he barely noticed, his eyes were focused on Bess and she coughed, uncomfortably. It was hard not stare back. She almost forgot to breathe, and exhaled deeply as she forced herself to look over at the band.

Her eyes trailed over to the food, and she looked back at Elvis with concern, knowing he rarely actually went to the mess hall. He had been meeting her at her back stairwell every evening at 5:15, opening her car door and getting in without even asking. As if it were his own car and sliding across her seat was the most normal thing in the world. It actually did seem normal now, and had become part of her daily routine these last three days. They sat there in their own private enclave, and every time, as he laid his head between her thighs and rubbed her waist, she told him that they were just friends hanging out. Yesterday they’d talked past dinner hours and she’d ask him if he didn’t want to go to get food, prompting Elvis to share how someone had yelled out in line at him Monday, asking if he missed his teddy bears, and he hadn’t gone back since. Sergeant Norwood’s wife, apparently, was providing him with a loaf’s worth of peanut butter sandwiches every night. But that wouldn’t have happened this evening and Bess thoughtfully looked over at the food table.

“You must be hungry. All of you, I mean.” Bess stuttered, trying not to stare at Elvis, which, for some reason, backfired, because consciously trying not to made her think about him even more and she failed horribly at being able to stray from his blue eyes for very long. “Because you just got here. Of course.”

Dori smiled and took this as her cue to play hostess and lead Elvis away to the refreshments.

“Yes, of course, of course, y’all must be hungry, doing those tank exercises all day. I made the seafood dip over there in the jello mold, it’s a recipe from Ladies’ Home Journal, you simply must try it and tell me what you think.”

“Aw, darlin’, I don’t, don’t eat seafood.”

“The brisket is pretty good.” Bess chimed in.

Dori smiled even deeper.

“Hmm, well, I suppose it’s probably ok for a Yankee like ya self, Bess honey.”

She pulled her arm tighter around Elvis, leading him to to the brisket as Bess heard her say, “Personally, I find Millie’s brisket a little bland and dried out, but come on, you’re a growin’ boy, need to refresh ya energy.”

Dori’s giggle trilled back as she walked him away and Bess frowned again when Elvis turned back over his shoulder, clearly grinning deeper as he took in Bess’ eyes following him.

She made small talk with Rex, mentioning how the last time she had heard this band, The Flapjack’s, they had played all of Elvis’ big hits and there had been none tonight.

“He bribed them.”

Rex whispered, looking over at where Elvis and Dori stood, as she fed him a deviled egg and then a brisket slider, sticking her finger in his mouth to lick the barbecue sauce off. Her high laugh echoed all throughout he warehouse, prompting Bess to roll her eyes.

“Bribed them?”

“Yeah,” Rex continued. “Not to play ‘Hound Dog,’ not to play any of ‘em. And he bought cases of cigarettes for all the guys in our unit. He wants to make sure tonight is nice, smooth, and normal. As it can be for him, I suppose.”

Before she had the opportunity to inquire further Bess was distracted by the band as they started up a new song, a rendition of Johnny Mathis’ “Chances Are,” and she watched Dori squeal that she loved this song.

Bess smiled at Rex.

“Well Private, want to cut a rug?”

He hesitated. “Uh, I think -" he looked over at Elvis, who was making his way to the corner of the dance floor. “Probably better if I don’t, gonna go check out the chow.”

“C’mon, you little Yankee, I’ll dance with you, even if you have no taste in brisket.” Jim took her hand and raised his eyebrow. “By the way, Elvis Presley is in love with you Bess.”

“Stop it, Jameson.”

“Did you see how his buddy hardly touched you?”

“How would he know? These boys don’t talk about their crushes in their bunks at night. ‘Sides,he is here with a date.”

“Oh fooey! Elvis doesn’t have to tell him anything, all Rexadus, or anyone need do, is clock how that boy looks at you and, man, that’s all she wrote. You don’t dance with another soldier’s girl, it’s the code. Dori doesn’t stand a chance, honey, he’s just too polite to turn her down. I bet his mama is just like her. Which is probably why he likes you.”

Bess gave him a stare.

“Ok, maybe not exactly like Dori. I cannot see the good Mrs. Presley making you go all the way to Dallas so she can dress shop at the boutiques. They were share croppers, right?”

Bess nodded at Jim as she swayed with him, attempting very hard not to look over at where Elvis and Dori slowly danced.

“Something like that. Very very poor. But Jim, you dance with me, and I was your friend’s girl for two years.”

“That’s different Bess, I hate most women.” Jim looked back over at Rex and his voice trailed off. "Most people, actually. You are saving me from all the eager beavers here looking to snag an officer as a husband.”

“Well, looking around, some of them would probably settle for snagging just a night with an officer.”

They laughed and Jim led her around the dance floor in perhaps the most chaste slow grip of any of any officer or gentleman that danced a slow dance that evening.

The song ended, and the band kept going with their version of Sam Cooke’s hit “You Send Me.”

Bess could not help herself, and found her eyes move to watch Dori press her cheek to Elvis’ and it made Bess’ stomach clench inadvertently. Elvis’ eyes locked on hers while he pulled Dori tighter to him, tilting his head with a smirk. Something in his eyes told Bess he could tell how much she envied her girlfriend, a fact she refused to even concede to herself as she looked away, scanning the room for her sister. To her dismay, Kay was now kissing her dweeby young lieutenant toward the back of the warehouse, not so much dancing as staggering back and forth in place.

Hitting someone’s shoulder, Bess turned to apologize until she saw Elvis had moved Dori right behind them. She stepped hard on Elvis’ foot, then apologized loudly and profusely. That didn’t get him to scout off and they remained dancing next to each other as Jim ignored Bess’s pinches at his wrists clearly signaling for him to lead her away.

“Why hello there, Moo Moo, fancy bumping into you here?”

Dori smiled big and pushed her hands further up around Elvis neck as she swayed to the rhythm.

“Moo Moo? Y’all are gonna havta tell me bout that” Dori giggled. “And look at you Bessie, honey, I just LOVE your dress.” Her eyes moved to Jim. “Y’all having fun?”

Bess stepped closer to Jim, nodding and avoiding the coy irreverence in Elvis’ dark blue eyes as she slyly tried to navigate her partner away from them. She kicked Jim’s shin to let him know that if he did not politely guide her away this very instant she would begin to kick harder.

*******************************************************

Leaning against the wall during a ballad, Bess found herself making a mental note that Elvis’ seemed to avoid dancing to the faster songs. During this one, he had gone off to get some punch and then started walking in her direction only to be assaulted by a troop of MWR committee members, offering him samples of the desserts they had baked as a pretext to come and talk to him. Bess smiled as one asked him to dance, then turned at Mabel’s voice, observing the rosy glow of the other secretary’s cheeks.

“Mhmmm, the punch is good tonight.”

Bess smiled, then leaned in to smell Mabel’s glass.

“How many of these have you had, Mabel?”

The older woman replied without missing a beat. “Five.”

“I’m cutting you off, I think it’s been spiked.”

“Of course it has. By me.” Mabel took her glass back, gulping the rest down with a wink. “Someone needed to liven up this funeral. Hold this for me, won’t you?” She asked, and Bess’ jaw dropped a bit as she watched Mabel cut in on Dori.

Bess wondered if Mabel still preferred Burt Lancaster to the movie star she currently leaned her head against, happily watching her colleague cozily nuzzle into Elvis tall frame. He was a good sport, joking and swaying with Mabel for a second dance, then stepping to the side and chatting with another swarm of woman who tried to contain their eagerness as they brought him another tribute of dessert platters.

Bess danced to The Flapjacks performance of “Jambalaya,” but quit as the music turned toward more and more ballads while the night went on. It was late, the people on the dance floor seemed to have coupled up and the decorum had slowly fallen to the wayside as the senior personnel disappeared. The air fell thick with a heady, hazy lust provoked by the swell of sweet, slow rhythm and blues and the release dancing provided from the stress of barracks life. Jim had ducked out, and Bess wished she had given Kay her keys and gone with him. She managed to stay as far away from Elvis as she could through he evening, which wasn’t hard. If Dori was not monopolizing him, he only made it a few feet before another woman tapped on his shoulder. During this time, Dori had cornered her and begun drilling Bess for information, asking why she didn’t pick up her phone anymore, and what the deal was with Elvis.

“Moo Moo? Is that a nick name? Are you sure y’all are just friends? Honey, say the word, and I will be on my way. I do not throw myself at men.”

Thinking of their double date last week, Bess restrained herself from explaining that this seemed to be Dori’s primary hobby.

“I promise, it’s a silly nick name, Moo Moo is what he called his childhood cow named, get this, Bess. I’m telling you, Doreen, we’ve just accidentally stumbled into a very casual friendship.” She rubbed her friend’s shoulder, and looked out at Elvis laughing with his dance partner.

“He's lonely, and just jives more with women. You saw him with Mabel in the office. I’m not saying I see wedding bells in your future either. But then again, Dori, you don’t want to get romantically involved with Elvis Presley, do you? I can only imagine the havoc he is going to wreak on the girls in this town once he gets his bearing and into phase two. That boy is a fast operator, so fast you don’t even know what happened and boom, you’re asking him out.”

Dori narrowed her eyes. “Mmmhmm. Well, honestly I don’t want to marry him, Bessie Boo. I just want to experience him. He is so soft, Bess. That jaw! And those eyes. Ufffff. And when he kisses you, oh, it’s like having lightening strike your cheek. I’m fixin’ to get more before the night is over, hopefully with my mouth.”

She winked as the song ended, and strode off to get him back. Bess had to giggle at the glare Dori shot a younger girl from the switchboard office who looked like she was about to ask Elvis to dance.

Lonely, awkward, and ready to be done, Bess rolled off the wall and told Kay she was ready to leave. Her sister politely told her to get bent, promising Dickey would drive her home. So Bess subtlety slipped out of the side door next to the stage and made her way towards her car, ambling slowly in the cool evening air. Bess found it a sweet respite from the crowded, stuffy ware house stuffy. Out here, it was peaceful, and she savored the darkness as she looked up into the black sky. The stars and moon were hidden by some clouds, and Bess tried to get lost in the murky shadows as she wandered away from the sounds of the dance. She begged the wind to tamp down the anxious buzzing in her head. It was then, when she paused in the passage way between two tall buildings, that she heard the sound of footsteps following her, and turned to see a tall, dark figure striding toward her with purposeful, swift steps. His shoulders were back and his hands were out and he slowed when he heard Bess speak.

“All dressed up and marching in a hurry, huh? Loose your parade, Tupelo?”

Elvis’ gait turned into a wide swagger and Bess stumbled into the building backing away from the force of Elvis’ magnetism. It was not a smart escape strategy because he followed in step, his hands on his waist as he looked her over.

“Al - al - always, the smart ass, huh?”

“I’ve been a smart ass my whole life, Tupelo. Try to keep up.”

Elvis shook his head, chuckling low.

“You’re staring. Stop it.”

“Honey, if you didn’t want me to stare at you, shoulda worn a different dress.”

She gasped, and Elvis stepped closer, his right arm up against the wall while his left moved over her waist and he whispered into her forehead, his voice was low, teasing, almost babyish.

“Be honest, Moo Moo, did you come out here cuz you wanted me to chase you?”

Bess looked at the eaves of the building above her, she could hear the faint sound of the band back at the dance playing “The Girl Can’t Help It” and Elvis hips swayed very slowly at half time with the beat.

“Nope, I, I was leaving, actually.”

“How could you leave without dancing with me, baby. Not even once. An ya hardly even talked to me all night. Every other girl in there is ready and rearin' ta pounce on me, but you make me come chase after you?”

“I’m - I’m not like very other girl, Elvis. I’m not trying - trying to ….”

The way his thumb trailed up her arm made Bess shudder and she lost her train of thought.

“Hmmm. Not tryin’ to what, Moo, huh?”

He leaned into her ear as he spoke, and the skin on her bare shoulder prickled as his thumb rubbed over it while he whispered softly.

His voice was warm on her neck, and it reminded her of the first summer Mama drove her and Kay down to Galveston spontaneously for a week. They had stayed in a cheap motel across from the beach and enjoyed the warm Gulf water while eating fried shrimp and hush puppies and getting sunburnt. There, in the golden sun of the Texas Gulf, Bess had forgotten how uncomfortable it was to move through the world. No, standing where the sun met the surf had set her free, and she had become a wild animal dancing in the water and screaming into the waves while the sand crabs tickled her feet.

Elvis’ breath on her neck had the same effect. She felt wild, relaxed, totally at the whim of her body as she bit her bottom lip and looked up at his half-lidded eyes. She wanted to pull him close and scream into his mouth, howl at the untamed force of nature that rippled beneath his cheeks. He tightened his hand at her waist and kissed her neck, but then stepped back at her shudder.

“Ya scared not scared of me, Moo Moo, are you?”

She shook her head, but trembled as Elvis fingers feathered lightly down her arm.

“You don’t never have to be scared of me, baby, I won’t ever hurt you.”

“Elvis, I -”

He kissed her neck again, murmuring into her skin. The top of his cap rubbed into her hair. “Wanna get out of here? Go somewhere we can jus… Talk?””

Just as Bess began to answer, she felt a light sprinkle of water on her nose and looked up as it started to drizzle down on them. The rain brought her wits back to her and she gently pushed Elvis away, feeling the water increase and her hair slip down over her face. She leaned up and kissed him on the cheek.

“You are here on a date with someone else, and I have to go home.�� Squeezing him in a tight hug, she kissed his cheek one last time as he nodded, before removing her heels and sprinting off through the puddles to find her car.

**************************************************

Bess had managed to wash her face and get her dress off before she succumbed to the extreme need for a pot of hot tea. Now she stood in her kitchen, towel drying her hair and shivering as she waited for the kettle to boil. Hearing a knock at the door, she yelled out hurrying to the front of the house.

“Kay, the door is open! Or is numbnuts a catching disorder - shit.”

There was Elvis, hat in hand, on her front doorstep.

“Numbnuts?”

She swayed to the side, watching the back of a white Studebaker whirl around the corner. A white Studebaker very much like the one Mabel owned.

“My sister’s boyfriend is not the sharpest shooter in his platoon.” She held her robe closed as she looked down at her thin, white silk night gown. The thin matching robe didn’t do much, but she felt more decorous pulling it over herself.

“Did Mabel sneak you off post?”

Elvis grinned mischievously and strode past her into the house

“Hello to you too, Bessie, whatcha cookin, good lookin'?”

Closing the door, she shoved him as he walked backwards down the hallway.

“Don’t you hello me, what are you doing here?”

Elvis unbuttoned his jacket, and draped it around her shivering body.

“Still cold honey?” He drew her in, rubbing her shoulders. “Let me see if I can warm ya up.”

His jacket was still cozy with the heat of his body as he drew Bess into him. Breathless, she let him enclose her in his embrace, folding her arms into his chest as she lifted her chin up to gaze into his eyes.

“There she is, there’s a good lil Moo Moo.”

Elvis leaned down to bundle her further into him, his hands moving inside her open robe to caress the sides of her body, his nose stroking hers as she closed her eyes and whispered into his jaw.

“Elvis, you shouldn’t be here.”

“I know honey.” He pulled her closer, kissing her cheek at the fold of her earlobe as Bess crushed into his.

Her mind was racing, racing the with knowledge that at any moment her 17 year old sister would come home and probably know how to work the door knob. Racing with the knowledge that her father and mother were flying back to Waco tomorrow and she needed to be rested and alert when she drove to pick them up. Racing with the knowledge that Elvis Presley was the absolutely worst choice for a romantic entanglement or fling, not just because he was famous, handsome, rich and probably already dating any number of women in Los Angeles, Memphis and God knows where else. And therefore, an unimaginable person to be seen with publicly or explain to her family.

But it was worse than that, she could already tell, from the way her mind bent towards him all through the day when he wasn’t around, and directed itself to him with an intense, buzzing focus when he was. For these reasons, she knew he would be the worst kind of all-consuming distraction that she could possible let herself get involved with right now.

Her mouth had other plans. Namely, how could it find his mouth?

“Elvis.” She mumbled as her lips brushed the nape of his neck and her hands wrapped around his body.

“Yes Bess?”

He looked down at her as she tried to find the words she wanted to say.

“I - I - I”

“I know honey, you don’t date soldiers.”

She smiled a lazy, goofy half smile.

“Mmmhmmm.”

He gripped her tighter, pinching the flesh at her sides.

“Honey, dating is not the word on my mind right now. I am not interested in asking you on a date.”

He kissed her forehead.

“I do not have no intention of driving up to your house in my pink Cadillac.”

He kissed her nose.

“I don’ wanna have to come meet ya mama and shake your daddy’s hand.”

He kissed her cupid’s bow.

“And I definitely ain’t about to take you out to fancy restaurant and buy you dinner.”

He kissed her lightly on the top of her mouth, his teeth grating over her lip.

“I do not want to date you, Bess.”

“Good, because I don’t want to date you either.”

“So don’t date me, baby. Jus kiss me.”

**********************************************************

Click here to read Chapter Four: Dance

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#elvis presley #elvis fanfiction #elvis x oc #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis eventual smut but right now its sweet fluffy fluff #army elvis #basic training #elvis 1958 #fort hood #banditqueenwrites

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