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cinnnamongrl · 10 months

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sorority secrets- ellie williams (part 1)

pairing: college!ellie williams x fem!reader

summary: ellie williams has never been the 'sorority type'. but when she meets you, she realises maybe spending college as a part of eta alpha rho isn't so bad.

warnings: [18+ MDNI] explicit language, suggestive themes/language, mentions of dating men, alcohol, small mentions of homophobia. [this series will contain smut later on- warnings will be listed accordingly]

author’s note: i’m really excited for this series hehe it’s gonna be a few parts. hold on tight bc there is drama and hot lesbian sex to come (my two favourite things).

ellie williams doesn’t like sororities.

she likes savage starlight comics, she likes video games, she likes getting high and watching space videos, she likes when cats do that slow blink to show they’re comfy with you.

she does not like sororities.

and yet here she stands, in the main room of the eta alpha rho house, 5 minutes from meeting the other girls who had been accepted into the campus’s most well known sorority. dread was resting heavy in ellie’s stomach. she didn’t want to fucking be here. what even was a sorority anyway? forced friendship with a bunch of prissy straight girls? no thanks. she’ll pass. she had only one person to thank for this bullshit; ellie’s step-sister brittney. perfect brittney. tall, blonde, president of eta alpha rho brittney. if brittney wasn’t so… brittney, then ellie’s step-mom wouldn’t be blackmailing her into a college sorority, threatening to cut her off if she couldn’t show willingness to follow in your family’s footsteps and become a respectable eta alpha rho lady.

“can you try not to look like you’d rather be drowning in a pool of piss than be standing here?” brittney’s shrill voice broke ellie’s flow of thought. “no can do i’m afraid” brittney scoffed dramatically. “i don’t want you here either, you know. it was my mom’s idea, not mine. i think you’re perfectly suited to staying in your dorm all year with your weird stoner friends” she spat. “well then, we can agree on one thing” ellie shot her a sarcastic smile.

brittney strode towards the eta house door as the first few girls arrived. ellie looked down at her feet and then looked to her right. she walked over to the sofa, deciding she’d feel less awkward if she was sitting. less aware of her body now, she was able to form her (shallow, but oftentimes correct) initial thoughts on the girls she was going to be ‘sisters’ with for however long she survived this little group.

cute…

won’t last 2 weeks with brittney…

definitely films herself shotgunning white claw…

woah.

you walked into the room and a nervous tingle rested at your fingertips. the sound of excited giggles and shy greetings settled in the background and you allowed your eyes to scan where you stood; pink wallpaper, a framed photo of an older but still glamorous blonde woman, grand staircase, white sofa, girl sitting on said sofa. is she… part of the sorority too? didn’t see her during rush week. beat up converse, white vest and a short sleeved grey shirt, large tattoo covering her right forearm… pretty freckles. you still weren’t sure if this girl was even part of eta but something in you was pushing you to go and sit next to her.

“hey” you offered a smile as you sat beside the girl. “what’s your name?”

ellie sat up a little straighter and cleared her voice. “ellie.” be cool ellie. “what’s yours?”

you told her your name and she nodded. something about the way she was looking at you put you on edge a bit; it made your stomach feel fluttery and hands slightly damp.

“are you… in eta alpha rho too?” you asked. she chuckled “why, do i not look like i am?” you shook your head defensively “no no i just- you-“ “it’s fine. yeah i am. my sister is the president of the sorority, ‘s why i’m here”. you nodded in understanding.

you talked for a little while longer and to her frustration, ellie couldn’t figure you out. past ‘woah’ she couldn’t make many initial judgements. sure, you looked the part; pretty, smiley, white dress short enough to show off your body but not too short that grandma would disapprove. but from the short conversation ellie could not see why you’d be interested in eta alpha rho.

truthfully, you didn’t really know either. your friends back home had gushed about the concept of being a sorority sister, and your parents were… traditional. their daughter in a good college with good grades in a respectable sorority, dating a nice young man from the college’s fraternity was their dream. just like they had done. to be honest you weren’t really interested in sororities and frat boys, you wanted to stay focused on keeping up your perfect grades and securing your future; that’s what college was about after all. however if being part of eta meant getting into fun parties and having a group of girls who always have your back then why not?

“AHHH there you are!” a girls voice interrupted yours and ellie’s conversation and you looked up to see a girl standing over you with a wide smile. “brittney just told me I’m your sorority big sister! my name’s emilia. welcome to eta alpha rho” she put a gentle hand on your shoulder and then averted her gaze to ellie “ellie, good to see you again!” ellie gave her a smile back. “i want you to meet some of the other girls, c’mon” emilia took your hand and pulled you from the sofa into a crowd of girls.

a flash of annoyance shot through ellie at brittney’s friend taking you away. she didn’t really know why, you were probably going to end up becoming one of brittney’s bitchy friends who all pretend to like each other but fuck each others boyfriends behind their backs. she relaxed her body back into the sofa, and watched you. watched the lines appear around your eyes as you smiled, let her gaze travel down to your thighs, noticed your nails. red and short. gay? she promptly pushed the thought away. she let her eyes run back up to your face, your lips and oh fuck she’s looking at me- ellie averted her gaze to the vase on the table in front of her and mentally slapped herself. don’t be a perv, jeez. acting like you’ve never seen a fuckin pretty girl before.

~~~~

you laid on your dorm bed trying desperately to focus on the episode of yellowjackets playing from your laptop and keep your eyes from closing. the eta meet had drained you and although it wasn’t late you felt ready to call it a day. your phone buzzed and after a few seconds of debate you decided to pick it up.

you sat up straight and pushed your laptop away from your lap.

you locked your phone and the black screen revealed the somewhat silly image of you smiling in your reflection.

~~~~~~~~~~

“truth.”

the game had been going on for maybe 10 minutes, and ellie was losing the will to live. you hadn’t showed yet and ellie was 1 “i dare you to text your ex” away from getting up and leaving.

“where’s the craziest place you’ve ever done it?” a red haired girl asked the girl beside her. after a moment of pause, “denny’s parking lot”. a fit of giggles erupted but were quickly drowned out in ellie’s ears when you walked into the room and took a seat next to her.

emilia gave you a quick wave and smile and you returned it.

“late to your first eta social. that could get you kicked out you know” ellie spoke in a hushed voice. she saw the way your eyebrows raised in worry and instantly felt bad, “i’m joking”. “don’t do that” emphasising the ‘do’ with a playful nudge to her arm. “you missed loads. sasha had to show everyone her most recent text AND you’ll never guess what? chloe has a crush on brandon!” ellie waved her hands in faux excitement. you tried not to laugh at her mocking your new sorority sisters. “you’re an asshole”. she tilted her head slightly with a smirk, “yeah?” you managed back a small “mhm”.

“ellie! truth or dare?” a brunette girl spoke suddenly, bringing your attention back to the group. ellie leaned back, adjusting her position so she was manspreading slightly, and let out a small huff. that same fluttery feeling in your stomach made itself known again and you looked away from ellie. “uh. truth i guess?” the girl pondered for a few seconds. “what’s your favourite thing in a guy?” ellie raised her eyebrows for a moment before a little smirk you were sure only you caught appeared on her mouth. “his sister.” the room went silent. ellie didn’t seem to notice. “gross” brittney muttered. you looked up and caught her eye “not in like… a homophobic way.” she clarified. you lowered your head and subtly looked through your eyelashes at ellie, who was absentmindedly taking a sip of her beer. emilia, who was smiling, got up from her seat and gestured for you to follow her to the drinks table.

“sooo, having fun?” she asked you, grabbing a beer for herself. “yeah!” you offered back and looked around the table for something sweeter than beer and stronger than hard seltzer. “i know truth or dare is a bit juvenile but it’s an eta alpha rho tradition” she chuckled. “nothing wrong with a bit of childish fun” you smiled and she nodded back before squeezing your arm and going back to her seat. you stood before the drinks table feeling slightly awkward. ok let’s see… tequila? barf. maybe vodka? hm but what with. oh they have cranber- “you know, there’s capri-suns in the fridge if you’re not a liquor girl” ellie’s playful mocking broke your train of thought and made you jump slightly. you faced her with one hand on your hip and one resting on the table and narrowed your eyes in mock annoyance. while your brain tried to think of a witty response you noticed ellie’s eyes were taking in your body and it made your face heat up. you opened your mouth to respond and her eyes landed there and stayed on your lips. was she aware she was this unsubtle? “your beers with a 5% alcohol content aren’t too far off capri-suns” you retorted. she laughed and it made something leap in your chest. you turned back around to pour yourself a drink as ellie watched you.

after a few hours the games had died down and the scene in front of you showed most of the girls chatting or dancing to the dua lipa song that was playing from the tv. you’d been stuck in a conversation with a girl called alice for the past 40 minutes about her boyfriend who’s cheating on her but still loves her (she feels it in her heart), you were searching for a lull in the conversation to excuse yourself to the bathroom but so far alice hadn’t come up for air. that’s until an angel sent from heaven (who’s name escapes you) swoops in and sparks up a conversation with alice, leaving you with a clear exit plan. thank you nameless angel. unnoticed by alice or her friend you make your way to the bathroom across the hall, ‘you want me, i want you baby, my sugarboo…’ becoming quieter and quieter and your head ever so slightly fuzzy from the two drinks you’d been nursing throughout the evening. you reached the bathroom door and lifted your arm up higher than sober-you would find necessary to check it wasn’t occupied, and at the same time the door flew open making you lose your balance slightly and fall like an idiot into the poor person who’d just used the bathroom. “oh my god i am so so sorr-“ you looked up and saw ellie, looking down at you with an expression of amusement. you stepped back a little and she lifted her arm to rest against the door frame. you blamed the drink on the way that little display made you feel. “time to switch to capri-suns, sweetheart?” you pushed past her body into the bathroom “shut up about the capri-suns” she laughed and turned her body to face you as you checked your appearance in the sink mirror. “i’m serious. wouldn’t want you stumbling over like that and spilling something on that pretty dress of yours” she stepped forward a few inches and your heart rate picked up and you suddenly felt warm all over. even something about the way she indirectly complimented your outfit made you feel all weird and shy in a pathetically girlish way. what the fuck was wrong with you. keep. it. together. you could tell she’d had a little to drink from her lightly flushed cheeks.

“i won’t. ‘m not drunk” your eyes locked onto hers through her reflection in front of you. “yeah? then show me your eyes”. “what?” you questioned. she placed her hands on your hips and turned your body around to face her, your back now leaning against the sink. she was close. “you can always tell from the eyes,” she spoke low and her words took their time on her tongue “drunk people always get this hazy look,” her own eyes darted between each of yours “you know… heavy..” you swallowed, head swirling from definitely not the vodka and fuck since when was this bathroom so hot “.. sleepy” you opened your mouth and the breath you didn’t realise you were holding came out and her eyes were on your lips again. she brought her tatted arm out to hold the sink, caging in the left side of your body.

“oh!” both yours and ellie’s heads shot to the door, revealing emilia standing there. “sorry! was just coming to look for you,” she told you “wasn’t sure where you were.” she half-giggled. ellie cleared her throat and gave emilia a tight lipped smile and exited the bathroom. “glad you’re safe, i’ll uh- let you pee now.” she tittered and followed ellie back to the room, closing the bathroom door behind her. right, yeah. i came here to pee. the past few minutes left you with a little disorientation; you sat down and replayed your moment with ellie. moment? can you call it a moment? why does it even matter. what the fuck were you doing getting all woozy because a girl you only just met flirted with you for 3 seconds. you physically shook your head pretending that could rid you of the feelings you were experiencing. ellie was in your head and it scared you. that’s the thing about the guys you’d dated; sure it was fun to go on dates with them, sex could be… pretty enjoyable, and you could laugh and joke with the majority of them. but they never interrupted your focus. they never took up space in your brain when you weren’t in their presence, and they didn’t have the power to distract you from college or your grades. they were safe.

as you entered the room again emilia noticed you and spoke up “hey! i was just thinking: you came in late so you never got to play the game! soooo.. truth or dare?” she asked with a big smile. the moment had passed surely you thought, but you humoured her anyway. “dare?” “ok,” she put her finger to her bottom lip and looked up “, i dare you to tell us who you have a crush on” grown adults. we are grown adults. “isn’t that a truth?” you questioned. “oh shush. just answer” you thought of ellie. you were sure she was looking at you but didn’t dare to check. then you thought of college, your sorority sisters, your parents.

“chad.” there was a chad in your college right? emilia gasped “chad peters?” sure “yep” “AHH he is SO cute. head of the football team AND kappa upsilon sigma fraternity president as well, someone has standards” emilia jibed. you gave her a false smile. you could see brittney out of the corner of your eye frowning.

you were a fucking idiot. chad? you could almost feel ellie’s eyes on you, but you still couldn’t manage to turn around and look at her. now who was the asshole.

part 2

#ellie tlou 2 #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams smut #ellie x reader #ellie tlou

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allysunny · 1 month

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I'm the Lucky One

Pairing: Bale!Bruce Wayne x Drunk!Fem!Reader

Synopsys: You got a bit too drunk at the club tonight. Luckily, your husband is quick to come to the rescue and take care of you.

Words: 3.2k words

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol and being drunk of course, drunken speeches, just a lot of fluff and a bit of crack, reader is mentioned to be quite a bit drunk. Some suggestive themes, cursing and vulgar language (not on Bruce's side). Just a fluffy, funny fic, really.

A/N: Hey everyone!!!! So, I got hammered last night and I was wondering how nice it would be if I had Bruce taking care of me,, so I wrote this. It was hilarious, I got home and got my keyboard and my tablet and just started typing away as I sobered up.

I love this man so much I wish he was the one taking care of me omg... Anyway I hope you guys like this! It's just a small fic, something short, I wanted it to be short and sweet <3

“You’re literally the most handsome man I have ever seen in my life.”

“Am I, now?”

“You are. Holy fuck. I think I'm in love with you.”

Bruce chuckled softly at your words as he helped you down the stairs of the club you found yourself in. His arm was steadily wrapped around your waist, his other one reaching for the limo door.

It was a lovely night in Gotham, and you had decided to go out with your friends.

“It’ll be fine, Bruce, we’re just celebrating Maggie’s return with a couple of drinks and that’s it. No need to worry,” you had told him, punctuating your statement with a kiss on his cheek. Bruce had believed you. sort of. He'd told Maggie to warn him should you go overboard with the drinks, and two hours later, he was getting a call from her about how you were fucking plastered.

“Are you single, by any chance?” You asked, turning to him with an extremely serious expression. Bruce cocked an eyebrow and held you steadily, both hands on your hips, preventing you from swaying as obviously as you were. “There’s no way you are. You're far too hot. Fuck, you really are one handsome fucker. Look at his jawline – “ You reached to touch his face and Bruce softly caught your hand, bringing it down next to the other one and releasing it once he understood you would not try to touch him again.

“How about we get in the car, huh?” He asked, opening the door before him, and making sure you got in without tripping or falling or hurting yourself – a miraculous feat in itself.

“What a gentleman, holy fuck,” you slurred, shaking your head, “Mister, not only are you the hottest man I've ever seen, you’re also a gentleman. You're the whole package. You know, I think I'm in love with you. I’m so in love with you, it’s actually insane. Holy shit.”

“Well, we have been married for a couple of years. I'd expect you to at least like me.” He replied nonchalantly.

Next to him, your jaw dropped. Your mouth hung wide open, and you blinked repeatedly, staring at the man in front of you. You didn’t seem to notice the car was already in motion, Alfred looking amusedly at you through the front mirror.

“We are?” You asked, blinking a few more times, much to Bruce’s delight.

“We are.”

“We’re married!?”

“For almost three years now. Happiest thing that’s ever happened to me.”

The information took a while to settle in your brain. You turned your head comically slow to the side, and stared through the window, Gotham’s city lights blinding and eternal. Then, you turned to him again. There was no way the handsome man before you was your husband, was he? He was wearing a lovely dark blue sweater polo, and dark pants. His hair was combed back, but there seemed to be no product on it. He looked effortlessly perfect, and it was hard for you to just believe he was yours. I mean, how could a man like this belong to you?

Bruce seemed to read your mind, because he took your hand in his and turned it in his palm, showcasing the pretty gold band around your ring finger. Your eyes widened even more as he showed you his own, and you looked from his hand to yours, trying to put the pieces together.

“We are married.”

“We are.”

“Holy fuck. You're my husband.”

“And you’re my wife.” The phrase was said with a soft smile that often accompanied whatever words Bruce said about you – after all, he was whipped.

You stared at him for a while longer, before bringing your hand up to your arm and pinching it.

“Are you sure this isn't a dream?”

“I’m sure. We're here, honey,” he said, looking out of the window. The car ride had felt like an eternity to you, but maybe that was simply because your notion of time was warped. In only a few minutes, Alfred had parked in front of Wayne Manor and Bruce was leaving the limo to help you out.

“C’mon, hold my hand,” he said, extending his arm to you. You looked at him, at his shiny hair and beautiful eyes and giggled like a schoolgirl in live – which was exactly how you felt. You took his hand and did your best to maneuver your way out of the limo. Unfortunately, your head had other plans. You stood up far too quickly and your head began to spin, causing Bruce to hold onto you tighter. He pressed you against him to keep you from falling, but your body swayed from side to side before catching on itself. You tripped and were quite sure that’d be your end, when you felt Bruce’s hands steading you.

“Where are you going?” He joked, turning you to face him. You gazed into his eyes, and he chuckled at the confusion and laziness laced in yours. You had a dazed look to yourself, lips slightly parted and brows furrowed.

“Think you can walk on your own?” Bruce asked, even though he knew what the answer would be.

“Where are we going? Where are you taking me?” You asked, looking around. Once you caught sight of Wayne Manor, you chuckled, pointing at it like an excited child. “There’s no way. That’s where we live? We live in a freaking castle!? Can this day get any better!?”

The man before you just smiled and shook his head. Whatever you’d drunk had worked you up pretty well. He bent over slightly and scooped you up in his arms, earning a giggle out of you.

“Hey!” You exclaimed, swinging your legs slightly, before you realised just how nauseous all the motions made you, and decided to stop. “What're you doing?”

“I’m taking my lovely wife to bed, because she’s unwell.” Was his response as he crossed the threshold of your shared home, Alfred following close behind.

“Should I prepare a bath, Master Wayne?” The butler asked, glancing over at your figure, now far too busy gaping at the magnitude of your home.

“Yes please, Alfred. I'll try to get her out of these clothes.”

“Very well, sir.”

Alfred moved to your shared bedroom, and Bruce followed, albeit slower. He was afraid moving too quickly would cause you to feel sick, and the last thing he wanted, was you vomiting. Not because he didn't want your puke all over his floor or anything – simply because seeing you in pain or discomfort caused him an ache that was too big to even describe.

Once he reached your bedroom, he placed you on top of your shared bed, holding you closely.

“I’m gonna let go of your arms to take off your shoes. Think you can manage not to fall?”

“Why you letting go of me, handsome?” You pouted. It was adorable really, and it took every ounce of control in Bruce’s body not to claim your lips with his own. He wasn't going to take advantage of you, not when you were intoxicated and not thinking straight.

“It’s just for a while. Let's get you out of this dress, okay? And won’t it be nice to take off your shoes?”

“Yeeeeeeeah,” you whined, wiggling your legs in front of him. “They’re hurting me so bad. Why did I choose to wear heels?”

“Well, you said you looked, and I quote, really fucking hot in them.”

“Shit. I bet I did.” You chuckled. For a few seconds, you lost balance and fell backwards on your bed, laughing loudly. Bruce looked at you and just sighed, trying his best to avoid your legs as you kicked and wiggled around, before finally being able to take off your high heel shoes.

“Master Wayne, the Madame's bath is ready,” came Alfred’s voice as he returned from the bathroom.

“Thank you, Alfred. Feel free to retire for the night.”

“Are you sure, sir?”

“Yeah, I'll take care of her. Just go get some sleep.”

“Very well, then. Goodnight, sir.”

“Goodnight, Alfred.”

“Goodnight, miss.”

“Goooooooood niiiiiiiiiight!” You laughed loudly.

“On second thought, could you please get her something to eat? A toast would be nice, something light. I can’t possibly give her medication on an empty stomach.”

“Right away, sir.”

Alfred left the room, and you rolled around on the bed, unknowingly scrambling away from Bruce’s body.

“Honey, please stop moving. The quicker we do this, the quicker you can go to bed. Don't you want that? To get some rest? Get into your comfy pyjamas, get under your blankets?” He tried bargaining with you, but he knew it would be heard in the state you were in. It was like getting a hyperactive child to go to bed.

“Nope,” you popped the “p” with a grin, and quickly sat up, eyeing your husband with a knowing grin. “I want a kiss from you.”

“Bath first. Kisses later.”

“No, kisses now. I want a kiss from my husband. You are my husband, right?”

“I am.”

“Okay then, kiss me.”

“I can’t. You're not feeling well, and I don’t want to take advantage of you.” Bruce explained calmly.

“So, you don’t love me.” The seriousness in your voice stopped Bruce in his tracks. What?

“Honey, I do love you. That’s why I'm telling you to go to sleep. Right now, you need to get some rest. The sooner, the better.”

“You don’t love me,” your lip wobbled almost comically, and large tears welled up in your eyes. Instead of being annoyed, Bruce found it somewhat endearing. He could never find you irritating, no matter what the context was. To him, you’d always be the most important person in the world, no matter how you found yourself. “You don't love me, and you don’t wanna kiss me. Is that it? Is our marriage a fraud? Did you even ever love me?”

“Darling, I do love you. Come on, let’s get you in the tub, is that okay?”

“You don’t love me anymore,” you leaned your head backwards as tears rolled down your cheeks, and Bruce was quick to move next to you on the bed, gathering you in his arms. You cuddled against him almost instantly, pressing your face against his neck and wrapping your arms around his middle. Bruce soothed you with soft words of reassurance. Yes, he did love you. Very much. You were the light of his life, and he worried so, so much about you. He never wanted to see you in pain. That was why he was being so bossy, because he just wanted you to feel better. All of this because he loved you immensely.

After a while, you looked up at him, bottom lip jutting out.

“So you love me?”

“Incredibly so.”

“Kiss me?”

“Just once. And then, bath.”

You nodded eagerly, tilting your head upwards and making kissy motions with your lips. Bruce rolled his eyes in amusement and leaned down, giving you a soft peck.

“There. Now, bath.”

“What!? That wasn't a kiss! You barely touched me! I want a real one,” you whined again, pushing away and looking at him with a scandalised expression. “A big one. And then bath. Pleeeeeeeeeease?”

“You’re so lucky I love you,” Bruce mumbled before cupping your cheek and tilting your head upwards so he could kiss you. This time it was longer, his tongue darted out to explore your lower lip and he could still taste the alcohol you’ve had at the club. You melted instantly into his touch, humming, and pulling him closer. However, the moment you tried to deepen the kiss, he pulled away and tutted.

“No. Time for a bath now. Okay?” Bruce caressed your cheek softly and pressed a kiss against your forehead.

“You're a really good kisser. I want one more, c’mon.”

“No, we agreed on one kiss. Now you need a bath. After that, and only if you’re good, I'll kiss you some more. Okay?”

You gave him the dreamiest smile he thinks he’s ever seen, and sat up almost immediately, bringing your hands to your head shortly after. “'s spinning…” you mumbled.

“I know, honey. Let me take care of you, alright?”

“Alright.”

Bruce picked you up in his arms once again and brought you to the en-suite bathroom. he sat you down on top of the toilet lid, carefully helping you remove your dress and underwear and pressing kisses against the exposed skin every so often to make you smile. After you were naked, he removed your makeup and helped you inside the bathtub, where you laid back and sighed in relief. Bruce was quite sure you were getting to the drowsy state of your drunkenness, so he didn't force you to talk or tire yourself out even more. All he wanted was for you to feel good.

He helped you bathe, lathering up soap and rubbing soothing circles on your arms, legs and whole body so you could wash the day off you. Once he started washing your thighs, you turned your head to him and gave him a cheeky smile, to which he replied, “Not tonight, you need to rest”, and that was the end of it. This handsome man who happened to be a really good kisser (and apparently your husband) seemed to know what he was doing, so no matter how much you wanted him to touch you somewhere else, you’d agree with what he was saying. After all, he was right, you were already feeling much better.

Once you were done, Bruce wrapped you around in a fluffy towel, carefully drying you off. The fluffy fabric was soft against your skin, and you smiled as Bruce applied body lotion on your body. Even if you were tired and couldn't do it yourself, he would always do it for you. He did promise you forever, in sickness and in health. And he supposes in intoxication and sobriety as well.

When he sat you back down on your bed, you were wearing your pajamas and your eyes were threatening to close.

“How about you stay here while I get something for you to drink?” He asked, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. You frowned. Why was he leaving? And why was he getting you a drink? You didn't want any drinks. Drinks had made you feel like this. You wanted the handsome man to kiss you some more. Fuck, he really was a good kisser. Maybe you could convince him to kiss you in your –

“Honey? You hear me?”

“Why are you going? Don’t go. I don’t want any drinks. My stomach is hurting,” you chided softly.

“I’m getting you something for your stomach, okay? It'll make you feel better. Do you trust me?”

“I do. I think I trust you with all my life, you know. You've been so kind to me.”

Bruce smiled at your words and kissed the top of your head, whispering “I’ll be right back”.

Almost as if on cue, Alfred knocked on the door of your shared bedroom and walked in after Bruce opened it for him. He handed the Wayne heir a small plate and offered you a sympathetic smile before leaving the room.

“Hey honey, think you can eat some of this?” Bruce asked, returning to your side.

You looked at the plate in front of you and at the sheets in your bed.

“I'm not gonna eat in bed.”

“It’s okay, we’ll just wash the sheets later.”

“No, that’s – ewwww! No, I don’t wanna eat in bed. C'mon, help me up.”

Bruce only had a few seconds to remove the plate from in front of you when you threw the covers back and tried to stand up on your own, failing miserably and having to clutch onto his arm.

“I’ll do it there,” you pointed towards your vanity and Bruce nodded. He'd always comply.

Once you sat down and busied yourself with your toast, Bruce hurried towards the bathroom. He prepared a glass of water and some pain relievers to prevent a potential headache. Once he returned, you were already up on wobbly legs, doing your best to make it to the bathroom bu yourself.

“Hey – hey,” Bruce put down the glass and pill, immediately rushing for you. “Why are you up?”

“Look, you’re super fine and I totally wanna do you,” you slurred, “But you’re helping me far too much and I don’t wanna bother you. You've been like a babysitter, and I'm not a baby, and I can walk on my own because I am a strong independent woman, and I don’t need your super strong arms to carry me, even though I really like it when you do that because you’re so hot. I’ll walk on my own.”

Bruce smiled at your words. You'd always been one to dote on him and compliment him. He was used to flattery, sure, but he always knew you meant every word you said, they weren't just empty phrases to get you on his good graces. He brought you closer by the waist and caressed your cheek.

“I know you’re a strong independent woman.”

“I am.”

“And I know you can do it by yourself.”

“I can. I can do it by myself.”

“I know. But let me help you.” He kissed you softly and you sighed against his lips. There was really no argument here, was it? It wasn't a hard choice. You let Bruce help you as you walked towards the bathroom. He turned around while you peed (not like he hadn't seen you like that before, he just wanted to give you some privacy), and steadied you while you washed your hands and made your way back to bed.

Once you were comfortably sitting down (again), he brought the glass of water and the pill to you, which you took with no complaints.

“There’s my lovely girl. It’ll help you feel better in the morning.”

“Okay,” you nodded, placing the glass on the bedside table next to you. “Are you gonna go now?”

“Why would I? I'm going to bed too.”

“Here?”

“Yes. Here.”

“We sleep together? In the same bed?”

Bruce walked around the bed so he could lay down on his side, and you followed suit, although much slower.

“Every night.”

You sighed and turned to face him, a silly smile playing on your lips as your eyes fluttered close.

“I can’t believe I'm this lucky. I'm married to a really hot gentleman, my house is super big, and I get to sleep with you every night. This is the dream.”

Bruce chuckled and wrapped one arm around your waist to bring you closer to him. And something in your subconscious mind must’ve recognised his touch because you molded yourself against him, leg wrapping around his waist and head resting just under his chin. You mumbled something incoherent under your breath and were out within seconds.

Bruce could only smile. He knew tomorrow morning you might have the worst of headaches, of nauseas, and he would be more than happy to spend his day catering to you, holding back your hair if you puked, and nursing you back to full health. You were the love of his life, and you’d already done so much for him, bringing life and colour back to his once bleak existence, teaching him what true love was like, and turning his house into a home, a safe space he could always return to.

He pressed a kiss on top of your head and squeezed you tighter, whispering four words in the quiet night.

“I’m the lucky one.”

A/N: And that's it!! I hope you guys enjoyed this. I love this man so much, I wish it was him taking care of me instead of myself. Would not have tripped and swayed so much yesterday if I had his strong arms around me fr. Anyway, I love alcohol, I have zero regrets and I even got to write a Bruce fic. Win-win!

Have an amazing day, y'all!!! <3

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x y/n #bruce wayne x you #bale!bruce wayne #bale!batman x reader #bale!batman #bale!bruce wayne x reader #the dark knight #the dark knight trilogy #nolanverse #the dark knight fanfiction #the dark knight fanfic #bruce wayne fanfiction #bruce wayne x fem!reader

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angelyuji · 3 months

Text

yandere bruce wayne headcanons

yandere bruce wayne x gn!reader

warnings: yandere behavior, gross guy bruce wayne, kidnapping, stalking, power imbalance, rich guy uses his rich guy money to manipulate reader, creepy guy being a creepy guy lol (lmk for anything i might've missed i am half-asleep)

im thinking ill write some actual fanfics for him soon, idk what TO write tho...

STALKKKERRRR STALEKER SJALKER STALKER!!!

he is a creature of the night so u KNOW he’s watching you from a rooftop next to ur apartment

think of the scene in the batman when he’s watching Selina undress and stuff yeah hes a peeper (hes so fine i love bruce)

my man doesn’t have any superpowers BUT hes literally the freaking batman, he has cameras all over gotham so i promise he has eyes on you at all times

he’ll watch over you and make sure ur not gonna get mugged by some loser with a gun or get caught up in a joker/ivy/freeze/whomever scheme

like hes stalking you

he knows everything abt u too with WE and the Batcomputer (lol) he’ll have all ur personal info on file, ur twitter acc, your Instagram, any social media, literally everything on a separate file that is locked behind multiple passwords and eye scans (especially if we’re looking at bruce with kids like he knows they’d open the file and snoop)

if we’re looking at pattinson!batman/early years, he’s probably gonna write abt u in his diary journal (hes just a silly little guy)

he’ll try to give you a job at wayne enterprises to keep an eye on you as bruce (obvi becuz he cant be batman 24/7) (job depends on your experience and degree) (he’ll want u as a personal assistant or something but depending on your area of expertise… you’re probably not gonna accept lol)

if u do accept for a position as assistant/secretary, he’ll have your desk 3 ft away, he’ll be calling u into his office just to talk, basically like sort of training u to be his wife (get coffee, make lunch/get lunch, invite u to be his plus one for galas) all that jazz, he’ll flirt with u but ur gonna be like “oh that’s just brucie wayne being brucie wayne, but once u get comfortable in ur role, he’ll start making moves like hand on the lower back, pressing against u in any situation possible, he’ll never seem creepy (yet) but it’ll make u slightly uncomfortable considering he’s ur boss.

i can think of 2 possibilities that could occur

1. creepiest boss ever. he’ll order u how to dress to be his assistant/how to dress at galas (skimpy dresses, short skirts, tight pants, tight fitting dress shirts that exposes everything, shit like that), he’ll LEER at u like bruce will purposely drop stuff and make u pick it up so he can watch u bend over. like the worst. you’ll get tired of this behavior and quit and bruce will get angry and kidnap u

2. still creepy but not as bad. more like extravagant gifts, vacations, parties. he’ll still flirt and try to have as much physical contact with u as possible but he knows where to draw the line. you wouldn’t quit cuz yk great pay, okay boss. but like his feelings would get too much to contain and he’ll kidnap u in the end anyway

if i had to diagnose the batmans i care abt id sayyyy 1 is Affleck, 2 is bale, and Pattinson is a mix of both. comic batman has so many different writers and each run has a different personality for him saur depends on the writer lmao

u wouldn’t be able to date cuz of yk…….. WE rules………… but he’ll get tired of that taboo/secret relationship bs pretty quickly and just kidnap u

if u don’t accept a position as an assistant/secretary, he gets it but more than likely, his feelings for u will intensify and he’ll end up taking you to keep at wayne manor

before getting into when ur stuck at wayne manor, lets break down bruce’s thoughts abt u

he has put u on a PEDESTAL

ur amazing, beautiful, gorgeous, u. can. do. no. wrong.

in his mind, ur the light to his darkness

alfred totally enables him and if we’re talking dilf bruce, the kids learn from him so they just assume this is what love is, kidnapping and manipulation

you’d adjust to life at wayne manor (not quickly but yk mf is RICH, ur gonna be treated so well once u understand that u cant leave)

bruce wouldn’t torture u but he’d pavlov u for sure

you would only be given comfort and relief when ur around him/good to him

if ur not good, then he’d probably keep u locked up in the batcave or in any of the many empty rooms at the manor

bruce wayne is the most powerful and influential person, ANDD has THE most powerful people on the planet as his best friends… you’re stuck with him babes

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eyesthatroll · 1 year

Text

five more minutes | luke hughes

pairing; lh43 x fem!reader

warning(s); none really, fluff i guess, kinda edited not really

word count; 0.5k (blurb?)

yawning, you peeled your eyes open, squinting at the sunlight that seeped through the open black curtain.

glancing to your left, you reach out and grab your phone from the bedside table.

5:04 am.

luke's head rests on your lower stomach, his legs twisted around yours under the white duvet.

you were hot, thirsty, and needed to get out of your sweat ridden night clothes. it was the dead of summer, and your ac was broken, again.

you try move to your left, hoping you can slide out from under luke without him waking up, but the moment you move, he's pulling you closer to him.

huffing to yourself, you untangle your legs from his, and attempt to roll him over.

"what're you doing?" he murmurs, wrapping his legs around yours again.

"need to get up." you groan.

"what time is it?" his voice is breaking, raspy from sleep, and lack of water this morning.

"five."

"it's early, don't get up." he begs.

"lu, it's too hot. i feel disgusting."

luke twists his head to look up at you, tired eyes pleading you to give in. he uses his feet to kick of the duvet, leaving just you and him on top of the sheet. "better?"

you shake your head. "you're hot luke, i need you to get off me."

"just five more minutes."

"luke, i'm serious."

"please, baby."

you let out an exasperated sigh, your head leaning back into the pillow in frustration. "five minutes." you warned.

and it was five minutes, you were counting down the seconds.

"times up, babyboy." you announce, your hand giving a slight tug to his curls.

luke tightens his hold on you, now playing with the drawstring on your skimpy night shorts.

"it hasn't been five minutes." he whines.

"it literally has. i was literally counting." you deadpan.

luke groans. it's almost comical at this point.

"why do you hate me?"

you burst in laughter at his over exaggerated question. "because you're clingy in the mornings, you always eat my good yogurt, you take to long to-"

you're teasing.

"enoughhhhhh!"

"so it was a rhetorical question?"

"i wasn't seriously asking, i was joking. making a joke." the sassiness comes through in his tone.

"so was i." you slide out of his grasp, leaving him limp on your side of the bad. "you should be laughing, because i'm a funny person."

luke hughes was not a morning person, and you just loved to rile him up.

"you're not funny, you're annoying." he huffs.

"my name's not annoying, it's y/n."

luke sends you a dirty look, not appreciating another one of your jokes.

you lean down, and kiss his forehead. you're pulling away, when luke pulls you back down by the shirt.

his lips meet yours in quick fashion, morning breath forgotten. you feel his teeth graze your bottom lip, an attempt to open you up, but you pull away, pushing him on the forehead with your palm.

he falls back to the pillow, his lips formed into a pout.

"'i'm gonna shower. will you be up when i get out, or are you going back to sleep?"

luke gives you a pointed look, as if you didn't already know the answer. "close the blinds on the way out, please."

/end

mari speaks! not much to say about this one, i'm sure it could use a few more details here and there, but it's 4am and i'm tired of looking at it. hopefully it's not too terrible. also, random, but i just bought a qh43 funk pop! didn't even know they made those, (and it was so cheap!! 15$ waaa??) anyways, that's it.

#luke hughes #luke hughes imagine #luke hughes imagines #luke hughes fluff #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes x you #nj devils #hockey

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phanboyo · 10 months

Text

Captain Marvel had been left on monitor duty on Saturday night. Again. He couldn't really complain, since he'd started to try going back to school his availability for JL duties had been limited a little bit on weekdays. Not that he wouldn't cut school to help out if he were called, but the JL generally tried to be pretty accommodating when it came to civilian identity stuff, even if they didn't know his. And it's not like he usually had any weekend plans as Billy, anyway. Besides, the Watchtower had better food than the stuff he could usually scrounge up himself on the weekends.

Admittedly he hadn't been paying much attention to the monitors. Most of the JL were on Earth in their respective cities doing whatever it was they usually did on Saturday nights, and though it may be irresponsible, Marvel figured they could handle things as usual.

This is how Marvel justified taking a short break to grab a snack from the cafeteria, empty save for Hal, who had microwaved a burrito and left. This is also how Marvel let his short break turn into a long break while he read through a couple of the comic books Freddy had leant him. This long break is why Marvel had completely missed the entire earth being engulfed in supernatural plants.

Staring out the large window in the monitor room at the big green ball that had been his planet, Captain Marvel dropped the blueberry muffin he had brought from the cafeteria.

"Oops."

Marvel flew to the monitors and flitted from screen to screen, trying to figure out what had happened. There were a few short calls that had come through from Wonder Woman, Martian Manhunter, Superman, and a few others inquiring what was happening. Marvel hadn't answered because he had been in the cafeteria. "Crap, crap, crap," he muttered, "I am so going to get in trouble for this."

The timestamps showed that the calls began to peter out until stopping entirely, the last one from the Flash, a little over 40 minutes ago.

"-ny input from the Tower would be helpful, no one's answering my calls. I don't know how long I can outrun these vines, they're everywhere and they're taking pe—whoa!" There was a crackle of wind, Captain Marvel thought he heard an echoing voice saying something about "feeding the children," straight out of a horror movie. "Man, she's creepy," said Flash under his breath, "the vines are—ah!—Taking people's minds or some—" there was another crackle and the recording lapsed into silence before cutting off entirely.

Captain Marvel hit the call button to the Flash. With each ring his heart climbed higher in his throat, no answer. He called the Batman, no answer, Wonder Woman, Superman, Cyborg, Aquaman, no answer. The planet had stopped emitting signals of any kind, and it seemed that no one was receiving them either.

"Holy heck," Captain Marvel muttered, staring at the hologram of Earth, a big green ball that had gone completely dark.

"Lantern!" Marvel shouted, flying out of the monitor room. "Lantern, there's an emergency!"

The Green Lantern popped his head out of his quarters, his expression turning serious as he saw the panic on Marvel's face as he shot down the hallway. "Cap, what's happened?"

"Mind controlling plants or something?" He said quickly. "No one's answering their comms, I didn't mean to—I didn't think anything would—I just wanted a muffin!"

"What?" Lantern asked, "a muffin?"

"Okay maybe I read some comics too, but it's not even a full moon—weird stuff usually happens on fulls moons and solstices—and with the Tower so empty I didn't think anything bad would—"

"Cap!" Lantern interrupted, "slow down, what happened?"

Marvel took a deep breath. "The Earth has been overtaken by mind-controlling plants?"

Lantern blinked and the two of them sped to the monitor room, a green planet sitting innocently below the Watchtower with the darkness of space as its backdrop. "Well... that's new," he said, his hand coming to scratch at the back of his head. He turned to look at Cap. "Do you know what it is? Or who?"

Marvel shook his head. "It happened too fast, no one knew what was going on. His face suddenly brightened. "Maybe there's something at the Rock of Eternity," he said. With a muttered word an a wide gesture, a portal opened, showing a stone room with glowing arches.

Marvel stepped towards it, but the Green Lantern grabbed his arm. "Wait," he said, "are those vines usually there?"

Marvel looked into the portal and saw fat green vines crawling out of one of the archways. "No," he said, eyebrows furrowing. The vines began to creep towards the portal, spines on the tips glowing green as if in anticipation. "How did they...?" The vines picked up speed and shot towards the portal.

"Close it! Close it!" Lantern shouted, leaping back, hand out, ring glowing green.

With a snap, the portal shut, cutting off the tips of the vines. In a second, they were enveloped in a translucent green sphere, containing them as they grew to fill the small space.

"I don't understand," Captain Marvel said, "the Rock exists in its own realm, it's supposed to be separate from Earth."

"Can't really help you with the magic stuff," Lantern said, examining the ball of vines in its green cage. "Who else is on the Tower tonight?"

"Uh," Captain Marvel shook himself and went to the screens to check. "Plastic Man and the Atom?"

"That's it?" Lantern asked.

Cap shrugged. "It's a Saturday night."

He hummed in acknowledgement. "Well, I guess we'd better let them kn—"

There was a light crackling noise and the vines in the green sphere shriveled. Lantern and Marvel both stared at it.

"Did you do that?" Cap asked.

"Don't think so," he answered. They stared at the black shriveled vines a little longer. Cautiously, Green Lantern opened the top sphere. When the vines didn't move, he dissolved it entirely, and the vines fell to the floor with a wet smack. The two stared at them a little longer.

"So... are they dead?" Captain Marvel asked.

"I think so?" Green Lantern replied.

Captain Marvel looked up out the window at the planet again to find it more or less back to normal. "Oh, I—huh." Another glance at the monitors showed that the planet was transmitting radio again, and signals received were back to normal range. "Crisis averted?"

The Green Lantern looked from the planet to Captain Marvel. "Guess so. Good job." His ring glowed and the blueberry muffin floated up from the floor. "You gonna eat that?"

#dpxdc #fic #boyo makes stuff #my writing #okay so the thought was what was the JL doing when Undergrowth took over the entire planet? and the answer is being incompetent mostly #listen billy batson is in my top 5 blorbos i love this kid but he IS a kid and i can and will write him as a disaster #also i barely know anything about hal jordan so sorry if he's ooc #Batman: Marvel what happened? Marvel: Uh great question! evil plants took over the world and were defeated. Good prevails again!#batman: defeated by whom? Marvel: great question! no idea! Batman: hn.#flash: lets just be glad it was fixed we've got too much else to worry about to look for someone who's obviously on our side anyway.#batman: hnn. *starts conspiracy board*#undergrowth

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esperanzagalaxy · 2 years

Note

if you're still taking requests.... any other party members realising that Sasha, Azu and Hamid are all like. idiot 20-somethings ?? unless that's too vague! ❤️

RQG requests #25, IDIOT 20-SOMETHINGS!!! i’m not going to lie, this request Was a little intimidating because i had no idea how to make this funny or channel their twenty-somethingness in any way so i- ahem. had to unearth some memories from high school where, uh. chocolate milk with rum was a thing? and it was cursèd but people made it anyway and it was kind of a meme so. um. here they are. enjoy ¿?

in all seriousness, i fucking love this one. i think the fuckin faces and scribbles are on point, honestly. they’re all just SO no thoughts head empty. i love them. it’s been done for weeks and i still giggle whenever i see it. i relate to this holder-of-the-braincell grizzop but like, that was me at 16 to my classmates. yeah.

anyway, i imagine that, after getting all fixed up, sasha Would be pretty down to do weird shit just because she’s alive. i love her. it’s what she deserves. i miss season 3

thank you so much for this request!! <333 and shoutout to jerry van @crayonturtle for canonizing the gobfam 🙏🏽

ID under the cut!

[ID: a five-panel digital comic of azu, hamid, sasha and grizzop. it's drawn with sketchy black lines on a white background, and the characters are colored with flat and bold colors. azu is a buff, tall black orc, with a shaved head, pink lipstick and white tusks. she has a pink breastplate, a long yellow shawl around her neck, loose yellow pants and brown boots. hamid is short, fat, dark-skinned and dressed in a dark three-piece suit with a green vest, and his purple cape. he's wearing gold make-up and his hair is dark brown, curly and slicked back. sasha is very pale, with shaggy black hair and an undercut, where the white patch is visible. she has dark circles and burns on her face. she's wearing a studded leather jacket, dark gloves and leather armor under the jacket. grizzop has dark gray skin, a scar on the bridge of his nose, dangling arrow earrings on his long ears, red eyes and freckles. he has a green coat with a high orange collar, pauldrons, and a silver breastplate. the comic goes as follows:

panel 1: azu is coming in from the left, with an excited smile and raising a big jug of chocolate milk in her left hand. she's shown from the chest up. AZU: I found chocolate milk!

panel 2: hamid comes in from the right, hovering. he's also grinning excitedly and is holding up a red bottle with both hands. HAMID: I got rum!

panel 3: sasha is on the center, from the chest up. she's pointing to her face with both hands and grinning in a manic way. SASHA: Who wants to try mixing them in my mouth?!

panel 4: the camera pulls back to show the three of them further away, to the right, with grizzop watching them in the foreground with his back to the camera, sitting and polishing his arrows. sasha is screaming up to the sky, back to the camera, while azu and hamid come from either side of her holding their bottles, azu running and hamid flying. they both have cartoony, dot-eyed grinning faces. SASHA: Fucking bring it!! AZU: Eeey! HAMID: Eeey!

panel 5: same angle and distribution from panel 4. in the background, azu and hamid are pouring down the milk and rum down sasha's mouth, pumping their free fists in the air. sasha stands a little unsteadily. grizzop is turning to the camera with an unimpressed, disapproving expression. GRIZZOP: I have six kids and a mortgage. I am entirely too old for this. AZU, HAMID: Chug! Chug! Chug! Chug! SASHA (gurgling): Blrghughblhgbh-

end ID]

#hamid saleh haroun al tahan #sasha rackett #grizzop drik acht amsterdam #rqg azu #rqg #rusty quill gaming #digital #fanart #doodle #comic #2022 #the great swarm of rqg requests 2k22

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taytrashmouth · 1 year

Text

Im not a kid Joel!

Joel miller x female reader

Description: camping out in the woods after a pretty rough escape from a group of clickers and a bloater. Joel accuses you of being a kid, another piece of cargo that had to learn when to stand back and you loose it with his constant mood and tell him just how wrong he is

TW: mentions of rape, substance abuse, murder, teen pregnancy, blood, yelling, swearing etc.

————————The Last of Us————————

The fire was cracking and the noise of the wind flowing through the woods made me tense.

Ellie had fallen asleep reading her comic, she had a long week, after escaping all the clickers, watching Sam and Henry die. All of it.

Joel and I stayed up, keeping watch.

“Why don’t you get to bed, I can keep watch.” Joel spoke up.

I just shook my head. “Wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway, hurts.” I pointed to the huge slit down my face, from my lip to my eye. Some raider attacked me.

There was a short silence.

“Thank you.” I spoke up. He just frowned.

“If you hadn’t have shot that clicker when I tried to save Ellie I probably would’ve been dead, we both would’ve.” I looked at his messy hair in the orange fire light and I thought about how messy my long hair looked after a couple weeks without a brush.

“Yeah well you should know when to step back.” He mumbled.

“Excuse me? I saved her.” I pointed to Ellie who was curled up in her sleeping bag.

“No you endangered her, if you hadn’t have moved in the way I would’ve had a clear shot and killed the damn thing sooner!” Joel was yelling in a hushed tone trying not to wake Ellie.

I stared at him in shock.

“You’re no better than her, you’re a kid, and you don’t know what you’re doing.”

I scoffed. “I’m 37 Joel! And might I remind you that the only reason I’m here is because Ellie is the first one in 20 years that is like me.”

I watched Joel’s eyes trail to my healed bite on my neckline.

“Why the fuck are you even mad!?”

“BECAUSE YOU COULD HAVE FUCKING DIED Y/N! And I don’t have time for your childish behavior! It’s bad enough having one of you!” Joel yelled.

I Flinched.

“Joel I am many things but a child is not one of them….I wasn’t a child when at 5 years old my dad left and I wasn’t a kid when my mom overdosed and while she was out my stepdad raped me, when I was 8, and 9 and 10 and every year after that until I was 15 and I got pregnant.”

Joel stared at me. I had tears in my eyes but my gaze never left him.

“I wasn’t a kid when I gave birth at 16 and my mom kicked me out, or when the outbreak started when I was 17, with a 1 year old and a shitty boyfriend called Dan….but I loved them both.”

Joel watched my tears fall down my face rapidly.

“And I definitely wasn’t a kid when at 18 Dan got bitten and he didn’t tell me, I woke up one night to find him chewing up my two year old, and I haven’t been childish since I put a bullet between the eyes of my baby and the man I love.”

My voice was shaking.

“Now you’re an asshole! And I don’t deny that I might not know what I’m doing but Im still alive and I’m here. So do not take whatever anger you have out on me.” I finished.

After about 10 minutes Joel spoke.

“I’m sorry y/n.”

I didn’t look up, I just started walking towards my sleeping bag.

“What was its name?” Joel asked. I stopped walking.

“His name was Joel…” I whispered.

He was quiet, probably thinking about how I complimented his name when we first met.

“I lost my kid too”

“I’m sorry.”

“First day of the outbreak, her name was Sarah.”

I turned around and sat next to him.

“I’m only mad because everyone I love, i loose and I can’t loose you too y/n- I can’t-“

“You love me?” I interrupted.

Joel just looked at me, shocked at what he had just admitted.

His eyes fell to my lips and I took that as the green light. My lips were on his, both chapped. He pulled me closer to him and my hands were in his hair and his were on my back. The kiss felt like it lasted forever before we broke apart.

“You’re still an asshole.” I sighed with a smile and for the first time since Ellie’s diarrhea joke I actually saw him smile.

We both started laughing and our foreheads were touching, looking at his every feature so close was so intense.

“For Mr tough guy your kisses are real sweet.” I joked.

“I think it’s past your bedtime.” Joel sighed.

“You’re not the boss of me.” I laughed.

“With almost 20 years between us I think I am” he gave me a look that told me he was in charge and I liked it, it made me feel a twist in my stomach that I hadn’t felt in years.

He picked me up bridal style and I laughed and kicked as he put my on my sleeping bag and kissed me so gently as he walked back to the fire holding his gun, ready to protect me, to protect Ellie.

I smiled as I stared at the stars.

“Fucking finally!” Ellie whispered next to me.

“You little shit!” I whisper yelled and she just smirked.

#the last of us #joel miller #joel miller x reader #ellie miller #y/n #x reader #pedro pascal #bella ramsey #clicker #bloater

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wroteclassicaly · 2 years

Text

Comfort

(Eddie Munson x Female Reader x Steve Harrington)

Summary: Mother Nature is a bitch, and well, so are you. Until your boyfriends decide to help out a little…

Pairings: Steddie x Fem!Reader

Word count: 2,757

Warnings: Language, NSFW, bodily fluids, anxiety, thrupple fighting, blood, period stuff, period sex, vaginal sex, obvious threesome, tooth rotting fluff & comfort, and MORE!

A/N: You know, I can’t ever write a fic with the general idea in mind, and stick to it. I always have to develop additions along the way. Anyways, I’m gonna try and keep this one short, and I hope it makes sense, lol. It started out as comfort and I decided to just go for it, so if period sex/blood in smut is not your thing—AVOID! I also couldn’t decide between the two men, thus I am doing a three way again!

The feedback on She’s Trouble has been immaculate and astounding to me! I thank all of you so much, with all my heart! I’m sorry I couldn’t reply to everyone, it was just a lot! But I saw every comment and tag! 💘🥹

Also, I’m not using tags, because I don’t know who will and will not be comfortable with this kind of content!

I hope y’all enjoy this?! <3 - Kristen

~*~

You tried to be still at the Wheeler’s kitchen table, you really did. Listening to Nancy get lost in a speech about her latest editorial, Robin hyping her up on the sidelines, and the kids throwing popcorn at each other in the living room, with Mike bitching about it getting in the carpet and pissing his mom off. Your heels haven’t touched the floor since you began bouncing your feet about ten minutes ago, fingers fighting twitching urges to staple themselves to your temples. There’s probably a sour look of disgust on your face, but you’re starting to pass that point where do not you care. With the last dousing of humid air over Hawkins, Indiana, you feel as if your entire core temperature is a blazing inferno.

Combine that with the lacking effects your morning shower had to keep you cooled down, and you make for one pissed off person. You roll your eyes at your own dramatic antics, squirming in the seat and causing it to make a shifting squeak. It must be louder than you heard, as Nancy is questioning you. “Hey, you okay, Y/N?”

Dear god in Heaven, why is she drawing attention to me?

You fold your arms across your chest, tucking them neatly, teeth grinding as you force out, “I’m fine, Nance.”

“You don’t look fine. You actually, kinda look like you’re about to puke.” Robin interjects, hand draped across the chair adjacent to yours.

If you could move without that disgusting flood between your legs, then you would probably kill your best-friend for stating the obvious.

“Who’s gonna vomit?” Comes a deep voice that takes his place beside Nancy, who now has her brows knit in concern. Steve.

And wherever he goes, Eddie has followed, as of lately. You’re clenching your lids closed, head bowing, hands resting across your heated cheeks. When you look up, Eddie has that stupid shit eating grin on his face that you can’t decide if you want to punch or kiss. An automatic shared stare is directed your way, making you sink under its observation, nausea growing.

Steve speaks first, noting your disheveled appearance. There’s sweat beading all over your face, tension in your normally relaxed muscles, and you give an air of a trapped animal. He frowns, moving around the table and readying his large hand to place on your forehead. You quickly dart off, waving your hands. “How about no, dude?”

Dude? Since—

“when do you call Harrington a dude, baby?” Eddie cuts Steve’s internal questioning, confusing himself.

“When he starts crowding my personal space, Edward. That’s when.” You snap, Nancy clicking her tongue as the wheels spin in her head and she lands on knowing exactly what is going on with you.

Eddie’s jaw unhinges in a comical pry, hand splaying across his heart. “Okay, now that was just nasty.”

“Um, do I look at all like I care?” Hands on your hips, that crowded anxiety begins tangoing with your hormones, anger seeping from your pores like acid.

You know your mood towards them is irrational, you are too aware. But there’s a devil on your shoulder that goes by Aunt Flo, and she’s getting her kicks by pulling your strings.

“Okay, that’s enough. What is going on with you?” Steve raises his deep voice a few octaves, annoyed and defensive of himself and your shared partner.

Ever-changing moods, guilt swells in your chest, carving out its permanent residence for the next several days. Your vision blurs and you clamber from your seat, apologizing to Robin and Nancy, before walking over to where Eddie and Steve stand side by side, your fingers brushing over their hands, voice barely above a whisper. “M’ sorry. I just wanna go home, please.”

Eddie is perturbed. It was his week to pick out the restaurant for date night, and you’d all planned on driving over there after your excursion at the Wheelers. And now you’re acting like he and Steve are dog shit on your shoes. He’s nauseated.

Nancy is quick to catch you in a hug before you can leave, rubbing up and down your shoulders, her voice by your ear. “They might be guys, but I’m pretty sure they’ll understand if you tell them what’s going on.” She pecks your cheek and gives you another squeeze, sliding back and away, dropping off with an, “I’ll call you later, okay?”

You’ve never been more grateful for her and that mutual understanding.

~*~

The ride back to your house is silent. You’d opted for the backseat of Steve’s BMW, leaving your boyfriends up front with each other, stealing glimpses of your exhausted face in the rear view. When you do arrive at your cul-de-sac, you linger on the door handle, partially expecting them to object to your retreat. Eddie, whom can read you like a fucking textbook he’d studied three times over in school—isn’t having it. You can’t blame him.

“We’re goin’ on the date. You can stay home and mope and bitch at the wall. We’ll bring you somethin’ back later.” He’s got his hands folded across his black t-shirt clad chest, opting to cast his gaze elsewhere as you silently remove yourself from the car, heart being pulverized beneath your breast.

“No, it’s okay. Don’t… just don’t worry about it, yeah?” It comes off jagged and fragmented, versus how you wanted it to sound—reassuring and strong.

You watch them both in the beginning stages of blurred vision. Steve is holding onto the wheel tightly, his expressions fighting for dominance—ones that you can’t decipher in the moment. Anger or defeat, maybe? You nod, at who, you aren’t sure. You wring your fingers together.

“Well, okay. Be safe and have a good time.” As if Aunt Flo didn’t destroy your entire day, she up and leaves you for vacation, obliterating all your previous anger.

Stupid fucking hormonal bitch.

“I love you.” Comes off your lips in a softness that is directed at them both.

Eddie does seek you out then, nostrils flaring, chocolate irises softening. Steve opens and closes his mouth, words caught. You don’t stay behind to embarrass yourself any longer.

~*~

Cramps that are absolutely devouring your insides, you figure that’s a good punishment for your attitude today. Tylenol, nor the heating pad are helping, and your migraine has only worsened since you got off the phone with Nancy and an apologetic Robin, who made enough ‘crimson tide’ jokes to take you into the next century. Smoothing things over with them eased some anxieties, but you can’t stop thinking about how your boys are enjoying the date that Eddie was so excited about. Is it a burger joint that will be followed by chocolate shakes and handcuffs? Or maybe it’s a fancy little pizzeria and some cheap wine, with Eddie’s finest stash and his sinfully gifted mouth?

Whatever it is, it’s your fault that you’re not partaking. Scrubbing a hand across your tear stained eyes, you discard the heating pad and opt for some good ol’ fashioned sulking in your room. However, you don’t make it to the stairs before your front door is being unlocked and opened by the spare key, making you swallow in fear, uncertainty about who is there, until sunsets’ golden hues cast a halo around Steve Harrington’s beautiful face, his form framed in your doorway. His chestnut locks are discombobulated, but those freckles are crystal clear consolations. When he drinks you in, you immediately run into his embrace, his biceps flexing to hold onto the bags in each hand, letting them go, not even seconds later, enfolding you in a cocoon of: aftershave, Eddie’s lingering cigarette smoke, cologne, and freshly washed clothing. Steve.

You bury your face in his baby blue Henley, cheek tickled by wisps of chest hair that peeks out from a few undone buttons. He begins rubbing your back, strong hands kneading that specific tension at your tailbone, a moan dipping off your lips at the muscular relief. You mewl into him, his hands cupping your cheeks as you pull away with closed eyes, head tilted back.

“There we go, honey.” He’s praising, thumbpads scraping your cheekbones, down to your jawline. “What a good-fucking-girl.”

Broken syllables are uttered from you, a diaphragm depth voicing of neglected need, staved off by hormones. Steve knows what words and phrases get your bones dusted to ash, your body a pile of goo. And through a confusing midst, you’re worried about having to turn away his implications. These kinds of sensual conversations always lead to you underneath your boyfriend, cunt stuffed full of his fat cock, tears cooling in your lash line, Eddie encouraging Steve to fuck you just a little past your limit, because that limit is heightened each time. But right at this very moment… you can’t.

You feel the shiver overtake you, and Steve holds you closely again, fingertips striking goosebumps alive along the expanse of your arms.

“Leave me with half the load out here, Harrington. And look at this? Hogging our girl, dude?” Eddie interrupts, a little winded and depositing more grocery bags in your doorway beside Steve’s feet. His repeating your earlier phrase—sans malice or biting sarcasm, it has you grinning, making Eddie help himself to wrapping his arms around you from behind.

Eddie’s spicy and earth scent, cluttered with that cigarette smoke off his fresh pack, it collides into Steve’s, rendering you into that overlapping heap of stupid slut. And your little shits, they know. It’s what has you trying to pull away, remembering your situation. Eddie knocks his knuckles beneath your shirt, caressing and massaging that same spot Steve had pinpointed. You’re whimpering, pleading. “Don’t. I can’t right now, Eds.”

And if you thought Eddie Munson couldn’t surprise you anymore in this lifetime, you’d be damned for eternity. His lips find the shell of your ear, that smirk that causes his teeth to graze your lobe. It works itself off his tongue, hot and offered. “A little blood won’t stop the fun, sweetheart.”

Your eyes widen so hard that a protesting sting takes place in the muscles. You want to bury yourself in the floor and never come out, sidestepping their holds and becoming guarded. “How do you even know?”

“Nance,” Steve answers nonchalantly, “we called her when we went back to Eds place after dropping you off.”

“Wait, what about the date?” You’re in a stammering disbelief. “You didn’t let me ruin it, please fucking tell me—“

“Babe, and I mean this in the most respectful of ways,” Eddie says as he steps forward, gripping your shoulders, “can you please stop talking for five minutes and let Harrington’s sweet mouth explain? Besides, no way we were actually gonna go on that date without you.”

Steve smirks. Your brows pinch together and you huff, giving Steve the leeway to continue, meanwhile your heart is swollen with affection at Eddie’s admission. “At first she didn’t want to tell us, saying it wasn’t her place, but then Munson over there wouldn’t quit doing that begging thing he does, and then Robin started in by telling Nance that she can’t imagine his cute puppy eyes in agony, so… yeah.”

“Really?” You snort, shaking your head at your rocker boyfriend.

“Hey! It worked though, didn’t it?” Eddie is grinning, a grin that you most definitely want to kiss. “Found out our girl’s got a case of bein’ on the rag.”

“Must you use that phrase, Eddie?” You wince, your hand resting on your lower abdomen.

Steve remembers the bags and nudges Eddie’s shoulder to help him pick them up and take them into your kitchen. You’re stealing peeks when they’re discarded onto the kitchen counter, like a kid at Christmas time. Steve places his chin on your shoulder, wrapping his arms around your waist and using his palms to dig into that ache in your stomach, soothing it.

This guy is a fucking Adonis…

“Go ahead, baby. The stuff is for you. Well, some of it is for the big kid over there.” Steve chortles, Eddie flipping him the bird as he snatches his gummy worms from a sack.

“I don’t deserve it. I was a bitch to you guys.” You are mortified and saddened, hand pausing on the crinkling plastic.

Steve pecks your shoulder blade, pressing his cheek into the curvature of your neck. “Yeah, you were, but it’s not like you didn’t have a reason. And this stuff—total magic. An aphrodisiac to Mother Nature.”

“Nance totally told you guys what I’d need, huh?” You laugh, Steve joining in.

“We still remembered your favorites though. Lots of chocolate, Pringles, half of the gummy worms from Eddie’s bag.” At this, Eddie looks up, candy pinched between his milky white teeth. It’s endearing, really.

“Don’t forget about all the movies we hoarded from your work!” Eddie adds in. “Chick flicks galore, and lotsa horror. Maybe even a porno or two.” He sucks his sticky fingers into his mouth, letting them drop out with a pop.

Steve hums, nipping at your neck. “Let him talk me into bondage this time. He promises we’ll like it.” A kiss is seared into your skin.

You aren’t aware that you’ve began grinding back against Steve, tongue licking across your parched lips, hands shredding the bags’ handle, pupils blown as you watch Eddie, until Steve is groaning and pumping his hips into your backside, beckoning you closer. “Aw, fuck. That’s it, babygirl, rub that ass all over my cock.”

“Too m-messy.” You try, but make zero effort to stop.

“Messes are made to be cleaned, Y/N. You think we’re incapable of doing that?” Eddie is stalking closer, wedging himself between you and the counter, leaving you smashed between your guys. Eddie dips in a bend, then drags his already growing bulge over your clothed cunt. Steve is swelling against your ass, making you a simpering mess. They pass you back and forth in bumping thrusts, each matching the other, dominating your own, their mouths attaching fresh marks across each side of your neck.

You toss your hands back, pulling on two textured sets of hair. “Gotta stop. Fuck, s’ not… I can’t.”

And then they do stop. It makes all the blood rush to your head, dizzy. Eddie’s fingertip nicks your chin, tilting. “Ask us to stop then, Y/N.”

“And we will. You know we will.” Steve is speaking behind you. They share a look of love and strength.

You’re brimmed with an engulfing desire that is smothering every cell of common sense you possess. “I want. I just want…”

“You want Stevie’s cock in that messy little pussy, or mine?” Eddie kisses the corner of your mouth.

“Can’t decide. Need someone.” Oh yeah, you’re a goner.

“Think you’re lucid enough to follow us upstairs and help put some towels down, lover?” Eddie is amused, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear.

~*~

“That good?” Strong and thick thighs are pressed into the globes of your ass, hair tickling your flesh.

You bury your face into Steve’s freckle littered neck, muttering, legs trembling. “Mhm.”

“She’s so warm, Eds. Wait until you feel how different her pussy is like this.” His pupils are blown into a glossy black, flecks of cinnamon being all that remain of his hazel irises.

You can’t help but to tighten around Steve, legs locking around his waist, tugging him in closer as Eddie drapes himself across your chest and sucks a sensitive nipple into his mouth, cushioning his bites with those plush lips. Steve lets out this feral whimper, stifling it in your neck as he falls forward, driving himself into your overly wet pussy, the blood and arousal making it a slippery, but too easy of a glide. You’ve soaked the towel below, a fascination Eddie can’t take his eyes off of, stroking his cock in time with Steve’s rhythmic movements. That spot is hit inside of you and it’s more intense than you ever remember, making your vision black out, thigh trembling beyond your control. Eddie, patient and awaiting his turn with you, brings your mouth to his for a kiss, his tongue caressing your own in a sloppily slick push.

Saliva strings on the break-away, Eddie’s fondness of you growing. “S’ all tender and soaked inside? Gonna make me feel as good as it’s makin’ Stevie feel?”

You’re trying to nod, but it’s weak. “It’s amazing. You’re both, so fucking good. You’re everything.” You babble on.

Steve lifts his face from the cove of your jugular, licking at your sex-drenched skin. “That’s comfort, baby.”

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bluejaysandblackbats · 3 months

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Catch and Release

Fandom: DC Comics, Batfam

Summary: AU where Jason doesn't die in the explosion and he and Tim end up attending the same high school months later.

Chapters: 3/?

Characters: Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth, Tim Drake, Dick Grayson, Barbara Gordon, Sebastian Ives, Jack Drake, Janet Drake

Relationships: TBA

Additional Tag: Jason Todd Lives, Jason Todd-centric, POV Jason Todd, POV First Person, Tim Drake Has Issues, Tim Drake Has Issues, Tim Drake is Not Robin, Jason Todd is Not Robin (Anymore), Bruce Wayne Needs a Hug, Alfred Pennyworth is the Best, Alfred Pennyworth Knows, Stalker Tim Drake, Jason Todd Has Chronic Pain, Jason Todd Has PTSD, Angst with a Happy Ending, Unlikely Friends, Injury Recovery, Emotional Baggage, Rage, Bruce Wayne is Bad at Communicating

Chapter Three: Timeout

The on-campus suspension wasn't that bad. It beat riding in the car with Dick. I finally managed to stop crying before we got to the school, so I had enough time to hold the icepack in my lunch to my eyes to look normal again. Mr. Ames sent me straight to the counselor's office anyway. The counselor was new, or I didn't recognize him. I sat down and looked around until he tapped on the desk with his pen. "Hey, Jason, I'm Mr. Finney... Can we talk about yesterday?" he asked. "Short-term memory's shot, but I'll give it a try on one condition," I replied. Mr. Finney nodded. "Can you open that window? I'm feeling shut in." I wasn't joking. I hid it well, but I'd developed claustrophobia from the accident. "Of course," Mr. Finney replied as he opened the window for me. "Would you like the door cracked?" I shook my head. "You were saying?" I asked. "Can we talk about the fight yesterday?" Mr. Finney repeated. I nodded. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. "I should've had better control over my feelings," I mumbled. "Jason, what were you feeling at the time?" Mr. Finney asked. The last thing I wanted to talk about was how I felt. "I was just sick of feeling weak," I answered. It wasn't a lie. I didn't have any reason to lie. That was the last substantial thing I contributed to the conversation. He wasn't bad at his job, not by far. I think he knew I'd be shut off. I'd give him nothing but breadcrumbs. "How long have you been claustrophobic?" Mr. Finney asked.

"I started having symptoms in April," I answered, "It's January now. Nine months."

"Because of the accident?" Mr. Finney questioned. I nodded. I shut my eyes as I recalled what it felt like to be trapped between my mother's body and the debris from the explosion. "Jason?" "I'm done talking. I don't-. I'm sorry," I stammered. Once I had the thought in my head, it took a while to push it back down. I squeezed my hands together to stop them from shaking. "Can I go now?" "Sure, Jason... You can go," Mr. Finney replied, and I walked to the designated campus suspension room. I'd never been back there before. I worked on homework while I was there until the lunch bell rang. Alfred made me two chicken wraps for lunch and a cup of pudding. After lunch, Bruce came to talk to Mr. Ames in person. They had a long conversation that resulted in Bruce taking me home early. "What's wrong?" I asked. Bruce shook his head. "Nothing. I want to know what happened between you and Dick this morning," Bruce whispered. I looked out the window. "You can't pick me up early from school to make me apologize," I replied. "What happened?" Bruce asked once more. I didn't want to talk about it. Maybe I should've. It might've helped. "Fine, but that's not why I picked you up early. I almost forgot we had to reschedule your Wednesday for today." "So, nothing on Wednesday?" I asked.

"Ophthalmologist on Wednesday morning and the optometrist right after, but you'll be there for the second half of school," Bruce replied.

"Are my glasses ready?" I asked. "They should be," Bruce answered. Even after my orbital bone fracture healed, I couldn't see well out of my right eye. "But they also want to see if Monday affected your sight." I grew silent. I knew Bruce wanted me to talk about what happened, but I didn't feel like talking about that. "Is Dick gone?" I asked. "No, he's gonna be here until the end of the week," Bruce replied, "Business..." I rolled my eyes. Business. "Don't be like that," Bruce chastised me.

"Be like what? I'm just peachy," I muttered. I knew Bruce was short with me, and I wanted to push him. I just needed him to snap back. "I have a role to play, Jason," Bruce explained. "You have a lot of roles. Hero, philanthropist, businessman, bachelor... Oh, and an involved father. Guess we both forgot that one, huh, Bruce?" I chuckled. Bruce pulled over on the side of the road and pointed his finger in my face before catching himself. "Hope you enjoyed that. That was your last cheap shot, Jason. I'm serious. You're on thin ice," Bruce warned. I grinned. "I've got tons more, though," I joked. "Enough!" Bruce yelled. I grew silent. "Jason, you've been more insufferable now than you've been in months. I'm sick of it. You have until we get to the doctor's to get it together. I get it. I do," Bruce berated me. He'd finally gotten tired of me pushing him. I didn't expect that to be the last straw, though. I shut my mouth and let him drive me to my appointment. I didn't know what to say to him anyway. I got what I wanted, and it was a hollow victory. I didn't have to see my Wednesday doctor, but Bruce made me go to a pulmonologist twice a month after my lung collapsed again during a bout of pneumonia in October. It was painful. The nurse checked me in and asked me a few questions before sending the doctor in. I sat on the hospital bed, staring at her as she checked my breathing for herself. "You got in a fight. Did you experience any shortness of breath?" she asked. The pulmonologist was no-nonsense, and she quickly got to the point. "Nuh-uh," I replied as she let me pull my shirt down. "What about school? Do you have P.E.?" she asked. I shook my head. "Any concerns or changes?" "Nope," I replied. She nodded. "Okay, what's wrong? Not a single joke?" she questioned. "I've told one too many today," I replied, "And today kind of sucked..." She nodded and sent me out to Bruce. Bruce embraced me as soon as I walked out the door. I would've pushed him away any other day, but I needed it then. I hugged back, and he pulled away. "I love you. I don't say it enough," Bruce whispered.

I walked ahead of him so he couldn't see me crying. He wouldn't start the car when we got to the parking lot. "I'm sorry," I mumbled. "You wanna grab a bite to eat before we go home?" Bruce asked. I nodded. I almost felt like myself again, but it didn't last. There was an explosion down the street, and Bruce left me to sort things out. He parked me outside the restaurant, and I ordered food and sat in the car. All the anger and bitterness I had toward him came flooding back. I ate my food in the car and waited until Alfred came to pick me up. "Master Jason-." "It's fine, Alfred... Can we go home now?" I asked. I don't know. Maybe there was no use in trying.

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likesdoodling · 4 months

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It has been a while since I started digital art,

Quite a while.

So here is a 'progress over the last two years' since I gained access to a drawing tablet.

This is my first ever digitally illustrated piece- compared to my latest one-

So, a little bit different.

I do think my art took quite a jump around June 2022, when I took a break from my Steve comic strip, (for obvious reasons- it was about Technoblade's polar bear so...) and decided to try practicing gesture drawing to see if it helped my general anatomy knowledge. This is before,

And this next one is after.

The most obvious change here is that I switched to using thinner lines. There is a gap of about two months between these.

This was when I realised that you could improve art by practicing it (mind-blowing I know), and then started to do just that. Some other notable jumps forward would be when I discovered the airbrush-

Well, discovered a new method of shading with it anyway.

Then after that I had a few pictures that I actually still like, despite them being pretty old at this point, the one below is actually from September of 2022-

I mean, the hands are a bit iffy, but the rest looks alright. This was when I was going through a bit of a melanie martinez phase-

This next one was from January of 2023, I'd only just gotten into bungou stray dogs via some random memes on pinterest about this weird brown haired guy who had lots of bandages and who had this running gag with wanting to die- I actually looked him up at one point, but that didn't really explain much. The main one that I remember was 'life is short, so make it shorter, shorter than chuuya~'

Which at the time was just kind of confusing,

Then I watched the show and it made perfect sense.

I'd discovered ascendance of a bookworm in like, 2021, but I hadn't really been doing fanart of it since I was mainly doing dsmp related stuff and I kind of assumed nobody would know what on earth I was referencing. Turns out tumblr has a lot more bookworm fans than I orignally anticipated. Instagram still has no clue. I think maybe one person out of my followers on instagram knows what I'm on about-

Then we've got these two which I am still proud of btw-

The first one is from a dystopian/time travel fanfic called viridian.

The second one was after I learned about rim lighting. It was inspired by a song actually, 'crash' by noevaii. (and yes I found that song from a sad-ist animatic, it was cool) The character isn't anyone in particular. They're both from February 2023.

Then there's probably my most liked picture on instagram, (not tumblr, since tumblr knows about bsd and bookworm, but y'know. This was even sadder than I originally intended since the last half of my comic strip was finished AFTER everything happened)

Then the final conclusion of my Steve comic strip in May of 2023.

I don't think my art really changed much in between those, but eh.

Then I switched to doing a bunch of ascendance of a bookworm stuff to see what would happen and turns out there are way more fellow fans out there than I anticipated-

Then I guess my next breakthrough in tumblr popularity, (even if it might not have been a breakthrough in art skills necessarily) was when things went DOWN in the bsd fandom with chapter 109 and I did probably one of my most liked tumblr posts I have ever done-

If you want to see the rest of that, feel free to scroll down on my tumblr page, the original's like eight pages long-

This was before anyone knew what was going to happen btw.

I still think it's hilarious that I put in chuuya having contacts. My reasoning being, they're on a film set,

It was a pretty interesting exercise in shading in monochrome.

Then I started a 30 day art challenge in October that I didn't get past day six of, but it was still pretty fun. This is the best one of those-

After that I spent most of my time studying for the jlpt n5, so I didn't really do that much art related stuff,

This is one of the two non-commission related pictures that I finished over the two months after I kind of gave up on the art challenge. This one's from November,

Then I finally finished an art commission I'd been working on for the three months prior, as well as studying. Here is an example of the type of pictures I was doing for that,

Then I was occupied with christmas and birthday presents for my siblings, both my little sisters are into ascendance of a bookworm- (completely my fault I am proud to say) so I was able to do stuff related to that, here's a couple of snippets, but you guys don't get the colour version hehe

And one of them has also read the entire fma manga just like I have so-

Anyway, it's been quite a progression since I resolved to master digital art in 2021.

I reckon I've come a fair way since then. I mean. My art skills in general are way better than they used to be. The last two or three years have been pretty interesting.

Also-

Just had to include this one, I'm gonna do a more detailed version but still-

I think it's funny so I'm posting it here. Even if it's not really related to art progression-

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polutrope · 7 months

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Snakes and Ladders

for @silmsmutweek Day 1, Prompts: Solo, Rarepairs, Voyeurism.

It is the night of Tirion's masked ball. Fëanáro is after Artanis' hair, Artanis is after a distraction, Macalaurë is deploying all his wiles, and Findaráto is just trying to have a nice time.

Rating: E | No warnings Words: 4.6k Relationships: Galadriel/Maglor, Finrod/Maglor, Undisclosed Characters: Galadriel, Maglor, Finrod, Feanor, Aredhel, Aegnor, Angrod, Caranthir Genre: Humour and Smut.

On AO3

“No, Írissë, it isn’t about the hair,” Artanis said, her voice strained with frustration. “Not entirely, anyway. It is the principle of his request.”

“What do you mean?” asked Írissë.

Artanis sighed. Her cousin was terribly dense sometimes. “Has he asked my father? No, of course not! My brothers? No. He only asks me because I am a woman, and because I am young and insignificant to him.”

“Hm.” Írisse puckered her lips and shifted her mouth to one side. “But none of them has hair as beautiful as yours.”

Artanis fixed her mouth into a frown, resisting the urge to preen. Írissë noticed, though, and giggled into her cup of wine.

“I am sorry, cousin,” she said, “but I fear this is not the last you will hear from our dear half-uncle. Fëanáro is quite obsessive. You will either have to steel yourself against him or relent. But come!” Írissë set her cup down and leapt up, offering Artanis a hand. “We will not be drawn into the fixations and feuds of all these foolish men. A dance, sweet Nerwendë?”

“Very well,” Artanis accepted her hand and stood, “but I’m not returning to that hall without first replacing my mask.”

The disguise that Artanis had chosen for this year’s appearance at Tirion’s masked ball included a tall and unwieldy headdress, its menacing face with beady eyes and forked tongue sitting heavily on her brow. The wide scaly hood, however, had the benefit of concealing her hair.

In the time Írissë and Artanis had been gone, the number of bodies in the hall had doubled. The musicians were whipping the crowd into a frenzy. Artanis scanned the room. Good: Nerdanel had arrived. That should keep Fëanáro in check. She tucked the hem of her skirt into her belt and joined Írissë in the whirling circle. Artanis gave herself over to the dance. She was swept into the swirl of bodies, her heart pounding and her blood coursing hotly. This was when she was most alive, her spirit ignited by the exertion of her body.

The first chords of the next song signalled a partners dance. Artanis spun, grasping for Írissë — but her cousin had already darted off and slipped into the arms of an elf wearing the face and comically large antlers of a great stag, loose silver hair tumbling over his broad shoulders. How obvious. Typical Fëanárion.

Artanis scoffed and jerked her chin away from her only female cousin. A traitor not only to the line of Indis but to women everywhere!

Then a hand brushed her forearm. She tore herself from its groping fingers, prepared to confront the impertinent, presumptuous—

“Seahorse?” Artanis blurted. Now that was original, at least.

The elf laughed, and the lilting sound slithered straight down Artanis’ spine, a pleasant frisson. The slice of skin exposed by the plunging neckline of his robe intensified the sensation.

A smile broadening beneath the long elegant snout of his mask drew her eyes back up. “Cobra?” he said.

“Mm,” Artanis hummed in agreement.

“Excellent. I have somewhat of a natural ability as a snake charmer.”

Ridiculous, Artanis thought, but deepened her voice seductively and said, “We shall see about that,” and found herself in the arms of the handsome — albeit rather short — seahorse, his frilly orange train sweeping behind as he led her to an empty space on the dance floor.

Looking back on the events of that night, Artanis felt that she would have been able to resist the allure of both his voice and attire, but the beguiling smell of him had robbed her of her wits. The longer they danced, the more it filled the air around them: bright but heady, like honeysuckle and cinnamon. No doubt, she later realised, he had perfumed himself thus with the precise aim of seduction but, by the dew of Laurelin, it worked. Artanis was intoxicated.

So it was that when he abruptly flitted off, pressing his lips to her knuckles and murmuring an excuse about a promised rendezvous (“But I will return, my lissome snake!”), she discreetly followed after him.

Despite his vibrant orange costume and her longer stride, this was surprisingly difficult to do. Whatever rendezvous he had planned, it was taking place in some far recess of the Palace. That ought to have put Artanis off her pursuit. But with her heart aflutter and her flesh alight (for the brush of his lips against her hand had spread like wildfire over her skin), the possibility of observing a secret tryst only hardened her resolve.

She followed him through narrow corridors and up winding staircases she did not even know existed in the Palace — indeed, why did they exist? Last, she clambered up a ladder through a hatch in the ceiling. It opened onto a small round balcony set atop a turret.

She peered over the lip of the opening, took note of the two sets of feet facing each other near the railing, and quickly ducked out of sight. She perched near the top of the ladder.

“Where have you been?” someone whispered shortly. (Artanis would surely have recognised the voice, she assured herself later, had her normally keen perception not been blunted by wine and lust.)

“Never mind,” replied the deeper voice of her dance partner. “I am here now, am I not? Come here: I have something I think you will find hard to resist.”

A whine of protest turned to a groan of pleasure. “Mmm,” said the first voice. “So you have made up for lost time. I am afraid I will need some assistance rising to the occasion.”

Artanis’ chest heaved along to the smack of lips joining, a low moan. Jealousy had no place in her thoughts, which were filled with vivid imagery of what might be happening just out of sight.

“Worry not, my golden flower bud. You know I will tend you as diligently as I must, until your petals are all unfurled and glistening with dew.” These words were punctuated by more wet sounds and rustling silk.

Artanis’ hand slid down the neckline of her gown, fingertip teasing at her hardened nipple. Though the gown draped loosely over her chest, her swollen breasts now felt constrained; she hurriedly unclasped the gown down to her sternum, sinking her fingers into her firm but forgiving flesh.

A groan, both irritation and pleasure. “Longer, no doubt,” said the mysterious lover. “You will wait until I am a fruit nearly rotting on the vine.”

The flick of a fingertip over her nipple caused Artanis to gasp audibly. She pinched her lips shut and froze in alarm, but a timely clatter of metal on the tiles saved her from being discovered. Artanis peeked: a belt of linked gold discs set with emeralds had fallen to the ground.

“Not rotting, no. Only until you are swollen with nectar, so that I might lave sweet juices from you with the barest stroke of my tongue.”

This was followed by the unmistakable exhale of one who had just found relief for some pent up ache.

Artanis hooked her feet around the ladder to steady herself. With one hand she resumed kneading her breasts, and the other she placed over the throbbing mound between her thighs.

The hitched breathing of the elf above took on greater urgency and volume, until he was keening with pleasure. Artanis’ fingers pulsed in time with his cries.

“Oh, oh yes, please, like that,” he babbled.

Artanis inhaled the scent of her own desire, her tongue thickened, and her mouth fell open. Her head lolled back against the top rung of the ladder, her hips lifted and she rutted against her palm. A thin wail escaped her throat, and then another, and she could not keep herself from whimpering as the hardness and heat of her arousal uncoiled deep inside her. The ladder dug into the tops of her feet, her toes curled tight. She squeezed her trembling thighs together, crushing her fingers between them.

“Oh, oh. Oh, fuck,” cried the elf above, “I’m going to spill. Oh stars, take your mouth off or I’ll fill your throat. Oooh, eergghhh!”

With the slightest pulsing of her fingers and the lightest circling of her nipple Artanis too was coming, heart thundering, holding her breath to keep from crying out. As she shuddered through the aftershocks of her climax, Artanis heard laboured breathing, a wet pop, and soft laughter.

Then she fell.

Despite the loud thud of her body hitting the floor, and, in the next second, the clattering of the ladder coming down on top of her, Artanis managed to scramble out of sight before the two lovers saw her. Holding her headdress up with one hand and her gown closed with another, she hurried back down the way she came — but took a sharp turn before coming too near the hall, eyes seeking some room or nook where she could put herself in order.

A voice from behind halted her.

“Nerwen! There you are!”

Artanis turned to face the tall, lean figure of an elf wearing a mask with a black beak and golden hawk’s eyes. Long, mottled plumes fanned out to either side of his face.

“Aikanáro!” she greeted her brother. “When did you arrive?”

“Not long ago. Have you seen Ingo? Grandmother is looking for him. Apparently he promised to perform some poetry with her.”

“Oh,” said Artanis. She could not recall seeing Findaráto at all that evening. “Are you sure he’s come already?”

Aikanáro snickered.

Artanis narrowed her eyes. “Do grow up. No, I haven’t seen him.”

“Fine. Well, I’m going back to the party. He can make his own apologies to Indis. Why are you here, by the way?” He strode closer to her and reached for the top of her headdress. “And what happened to your hat? Oh — oops. One of your eyeballs fell out.” He held the large black bead out for her to see.

“I tripped,” Artanis said in a hurry, and grabbed the eyeball from her brother. “On my gown. Too much of it.”

Aikanáro laughed. “Ah little Nerwen, you never could manage in a dress. You ought to have worn trousers. Come on, let’s get you straightened out.”

Findaráto still had not appeared when Artanis returned to the dance hall, and Indis had started the performance without him. But at the climactic moment of the first canto, describing the raising of the Lamps Illuin and Ormal, suddenly he stood in one of the high arched openings behind the stage. His golden raiment shimmered in the light of Telperion.

The crowd roared their approval of these theatrics, but Artanis caught the look of surprise on Indis’ face. This entrance had not been by design. Artanis tutted and turned to the spread behind her: her brother would get no approval of his antics from her. She plucked a few plump grapes and stuffed olives from the table and added them to her plate.

Then she caught a heady whiff of that cinnamon-honeysuckle scent. Like a spiced wine it sank straight down into her belly and pooled there, pleasantly warm.

“Psst.”

Artanis looked up. With fluid grace, the seahorse-costumed elf slunk over the sill of an open window.

“Don’t tell me you are part of this ridiculous act,” said Artanis.

“What?” He glanced at the stage where Findaráto had begun to dance in time with his recitation. “Oh, no. No, I just got a little lost on my way back and came round the outside. Easier to get my bearings. I hope you will forgive the delay.”

Artanis cleared her throat and tilted her chin towards the ceiling. If only he were taller, she thought, and in her thought she heard the voice of Írissë rejoinder, “Why? You know it makes no difference lying down.”

“Forgive you?” said Artanis. “That will depend on how you intend to make up for it.” Artanis sliced her front teeth through a fat grape and licked a circle around the rim of her parted lips to gather its juices.

Through the openings in the other elf’s mask, she could see his eyes darken.

“Well,” he said, his red lips dancing around the syllable, “the dew is gathering on the primroses about this hour and they are most fragrant—”

“Yes,” said Artanis, who was going to go mad (from both lust and vexation) if she heard one more word about flowers spoken in that dulcet tone. “Let’s go.”

It was not well known among Tirion’s elite that the staid and formidable Nerwen Artanis Arafinwiel was as ambitious about the acquisition of lovers as she was about the acquisition of athletic and intellectual accolades. Because Artanis was decisive and efficient, eschewing the coquetry that normally preceded an act of pleasure, it was believed, by those she did not bed, that she was uninterested in such matters. As for those she did bed, the reverence and fear she inspired kept them from making any boasts about having breached the steely exterior of Arafinwë’s daughter — at which each believed him or herself to have been uniquely successful.

This included Canafinwë Macalaurë Fëanorion, who, when he had looked about the dance floor and spotted, on her own, an unusually tall woman with spools of silver-gold hair escaping her headdress, had rearranged the evening’s agenda to include concourse with not one but two children of the House of Arafinwë.

“Won’t you take off that ridiculous mask?” Artanis protested, as the tip of Macalaurë’s seahorse snout brushed the space between her bared breasts.

“Ah, but that would spoil the fun, now, wouldn’t it?” Macalaurë took one swollen breast in each hand, shaping her chocolate-brown nipples into hard peaks with his thumbs. He looked up at her. “I tell you what. I will remove my snout if you will remove but the hood of your headdress. I long to run my fingers through the beautiful hair you are hiding beneath there.”

Artanis shoved him off, hard enough that Macalaurë stumbled backwards over the wet grass. “No. We shall have to make do.” Then she tugged him back, navigating her way around the awkward protuberance of his mask to stick her tongue down his throat.

They were both gasping when she pulled back. “There is one way this could be made significantly easier,” she said. “And fortunately for you, I am in the mood to be fucked like a bitch in heat.”

Then she threw off the rest of her gown, spun around, and bent down nearly in half. She planted her hands on the low garden wall.

Face appearing upside-down between her calves, she commanded: “Come now, get on with it. I have little patience for a drooping stem.”

Macalaurë, all the blood in his brain currently allocated to maintaining the rigidity of said stem, failed to note the reference to his earlier florid blandishments. With all the enthusiasm and cocksure confidence he brought to celebrating victory in the theatrical arena, he thrust into the glistening blossom of Arafinwë’s daughter.

What a splendid evening! Findaráto leapt off the stage, landing with another sweeping bow. The applause vibrated in his bones. The success of the recitation (and extempore dance) with Grandmother Indis had been a triumph, and all the more so for how perilously close it had come to disaster. Findaráto should have known better than to trust Macalaurë to be punctual for a warm-up on such an important occasion, but truly there were no other lips or fingers so skilled in all of Eldamar. And then the ladder toppling over! Scaling down the palace walls!

Findaráto laughed and threw his head back. He let it rest there, inhaling deeply. The chandeliers cast a myriad of colours over the domed and tiled ceiling. Marvellous!

A resonant, vaguely threatening voice drew his chin abruptly down.

“Have you seen your sister?”

Findaráto worked to keep the smile plastered across his face. No ‘Well done, nephew!’ Not even a ‘Good evening, Findaráto, how are you?’ Just ‘Where is your sister?’ Fëanáro’s interest in Artanis’ hair, amusing at first, was becoming a worrying fixation.

“Uncle,” Findaráto replied to the elegantly but plainly attired Fëanáro. He wore no costume or mask save a tall plumed headpiece — likely at his wife’s insistence. Fëanáro was vocal in his disdain for wearing disguises, even in fun (and yet his hand in crafting the bedazzled costumes of his sons was unmistakable). “Good evening. No, I have not seen Artanis.”

Fëanáro frowned. “Hm.” He threw back the last of his drink and shoved the glass into Findaráto’s hand. “Would you tell my wife I’ve gone for a walk?”

Without waiting for an answer, Fëanáro spun, heels clicking on the stone floor as he marched towards the hall’s exit.

Findaráto stared at his retreating figure. His mouth flapped uselessly. 'Leave my sister alone!' he wanted to cry. Especially now. Artanis’ proclivities were no secret to her eldest brother and primary confidant (or so Findaráto flattered himself into believing). If Artanis was nowhere to be found at this hour there was almost certainly a salacious reason for it. So far the evening had gone so well! Not even a word of aggression exchanged between the bifurcated lines of Finwë. But if Fëanáro were to catch Artanis in an act of passion—! Findaráto rather doubted the proud son of Míriel would come away unscathed.

By now, Fëanáro was nothing but a black plume rising above the crowd. Findaráto trotted after him.

Fëanáro stalked through the garden paths silent and perilous as a panther. Findaráto tracked him. It was due only to his greater familiarity with these gardens, which his uncle shunned whenever possible, that he managed to escape notice.

While keeping an eye on Fëanáro, Findaráto quirked his ears in the direction of various locations he knew from personal experience to be ideal for holding tryst.

His left ear caught on a staccato series of sharp cries. They were coming from the primrose garden. A low moan and murmur soothed the cries into silence. Momentarily — for they started up again almost at once, louder than before, and then broke into speech.

“Aahh, yes, yes! Fuck me, you wanton rogue!”

A knowing grimace tugged Findaráto's mouth down. He was by now mostly inured to the shock of hearing such cries from Artanis' mouth, but no big brother would ever wholly be free of the impulse to drag his little sister away from her ravisher, no matter how willing she might be.

Then he panicked: the path Fëanáro followed was leading him directly to her location. Findaráto broke into a run, thoughts grasping for a clever distraction while his feet raced to stop his uncle.

When he came to a breathless halt and Fëanáro spun on him, he still had no plan.

“Then I just blurted: ‘Uncle!’ — he grimaced at that — ‘I’ve been meaning to ask you about a point in your recent lecture on the tehtar.’ ‘Yes?’ he said. ‘Er yes,’ I said, frantically trying to remember something from the talk. ‘Ah! Yes, well, as you know, I am fluent in Telerin,’ — he huffed and rolled his eyes at that — ‘and I was interested in your point about the roots of Quenya méla as it relates to Telerin māla.’ He raised his brows impatiently, but his eyes lit up. I think my youthful enthusiasm must have saved me from humiliation. ‘Well, my Telerin prince,’ he said, ‘it doesn’t,’ then he took me by the arm and indulged me with an hour lecture on the coalescing of vowels, which might have gone on until Laurelin’s flowering had not your mother tracked us down and dragged him away. But it was a small price to pay to keep him from coming upon my sister and her lover. Can you imagine!”

Findaráto burst into a fit of laughter.

“Mm, clever Ingo.” Macalaurë nipped Findaráto’s collarbone. His hands tightened around his ribs.

“Ah, that tickles!” Findaráto shrieked.

Macalaurë settled himself on top. Findaráto was still chuckling as he stooped to kiss him. When he pulled away, his lips curled in that way that meant he was about to say something he thought witty: “Lucky you didn’t walk yourself into a bed of thorns.”

“Oh, please.” Findaráto smacked his shoulder.

Macalaurë’s smirk split into a grin. His thumbs followed the curve of Findaráto’s pectorals and toyed with the pearl rings piercing his nipples. When Findaráto responded with a shiver, he slipped his tongue through one of the rings.

Findaráto’s sigh of pleasure ended in another fit of giggles. He could not keep his thoughts from straying to the narrowly-avoided crisis in the gardens.

“Who do you think she was with?” he mused.

Macalaurë groaned and thumped his forehead against Findaráto’s breastbone. “I do not care!” he grumbled, then bracing himself on his elbows and adjusting his hips so that the hard length of his arousal met Findaráto’s abdomen, he said more seductively: “You are with me now, and there is something we need to finish.”

Findaráto’s own arousal jumped in answer, and he allowed himself to be rolled over and hoisted on top of Macalaurë, where their mouths joined hungrily.

It was not long before Findaráto’s neck was thrown back, breath coming in short gasps and hands clenching and unclenching around the sheets, while two slick fingers worked to ease him open. A tongue swirled around the head of his shaft. A shock of pleasure rushed from each point of contact and Findaráto cried out when they met mingled inside him.

Then suddenly he was bereft of both tongue and fingers. “Wha— What, no! Please, don’t stop, I’m— wha—”

A hand clamped over his mouth. “Did you hear that?”

“Herwut?” Findaráto mumbled against Macalaurë’s palm.

A shout and the patter of feet on the stairs answered for him.

“Ingo!” the woman’s voice called.

Ai! Findaráto cursed himself for not speaking to Artanis after the last incident with the wax ‘body painting’. “You have to draw a boundary, Ingo,” echoed Turukáno’s wisdom from the recesses of his memory. Too late now.

“Quick!” he squirmed out from under Macalaurë’s embrace. “It’s Artanis! Under the cover!”

Findaráto sprung up to tug at the blanket bunched at the foot of the bed, but with a flash of skin Macalaurë was out of the bed and—

“NO!” cried Findaráto.

—out the window.

In the same moment he disappeared from sight, the door swung open. “Ingo! You will not believe the evening I have had!” Artanis swept into the room, and her oblivious enthusiasm granted Findaráto precious seconds with which to cover himself.

She perched on the edge of the bed, flinging her cobra headdress onto the mattress beside her.

“Hello sister,” said Findaráto, and smiled.

Artanis laughed. “Ingo, did you know there are hatches in the ceiling of the Palace that lead to little balconies atop the turrets?”

“Mmhmm.” Under the cover, Findaráto’s fingers gripped his knees. His teeth clenched behind his smile.

“Well, there was this elf behaving very oddly — the one dressed as a seahorse, did you see him? — and he slipped off for a ‘rendezvous’, so I followed him.” A pained squeak rose in Findaráto’s throat. “Oh, don’t be a prude, I know you would have done the same. In any case—”

Abruptly, she stopped, her darting eyes landing on the nightstand on the opposite side of the bed. On top of it lay Macalaurë’s forgotten, and rather mussed-up, seahorse mask.

Her face fell. “Why do you have that,” she said darkly, a pallor of revulsion bleaching the rosy tint from her cheeks.

Angaráto was seated on the low portico wall when the nude elf landed in the flowerbed directly in front of him, arms extended like wings and mouth agape, as if shocked he’d stuck the landing.

Grinning smoothly, Angaráto shoved the dark head between his thighs down and draped his other hand casually across his hips.

“Hello Macalaurë,” he said. The body lying prostrate against the wall at his feet grunted. Angaráto kicked it.

Macalaurë blinked, mouth still hanging open.

“Are you lost?” Angaráto asked.

“I…” Macalaurë stammered. While he waited for his cousin to verbalise his thoughts, Angaráto’s eyes darted down the exposed plane of his chest to find him — as expected of one who had fallen naked from his older brother’s window — still half-hard. Macalaurë evidently took this as a sign of interest (which it was, on some level): when Angaráto’s gaze again found his, he was smiling smugly.

Macalaurë dragged his teeth over his bottom lip. “Lost? Not at all! I was just going for a swim — would you like to come?” His brows waggled suggestively.

This could be fun, Angaráto thought, stamping down on the body beneath him and leaning forward to come closer to Macalaurë. “A swim, eh?” he said.

Then several things happened at once:

The body on the ground sprung up between them, knocking Angaráto’s chin with one shoulder as he swung to shove Macalaurë into the greenery.

“Can you not leave anyone for the rest of us?” growled Macalaurë’s assailant.

“Carnistir?!” Macalaurë cried. “But I thought you hated—”

From upstairs, a shriek louder than both Macalaurë’s disbelieving protests and Angaráto’s roll of laughter: “I cannot believe you let a Fëanárion put his teeth near your—! Ugh!”

“I can’t believe you were listening! How could you not have known it was me?”

This was followed by a cry of dismay and several incomprehensible noises of disgust. “I don’t know! He was very— oh Varda save me! I can’t believe I let a Fëanárion fuck me!”

“You WHAT!?”

“I let him fuck me! After I heard him with you, I went to the gardens and he fucked me. And then he came back here, to you, the insatiable boar!”

But when Artanis and Findaráto appeared side-by-side, torsos thrust out of the upstairs window, shouting “Cáno!” and “You Fëanárian philanderer!”, it was only Angaráto they saw grinning up at them.

Concealed by a high retaining wall, Carnistir and Macalaurë made a slow retreat, mouthing curses, flicking, shoving, and tugging at the other’s hair.

The dining room in the seldom-occupied quarters set aside for Fëanáro and his household slowly filled with bodies. Fëanáro beamed as brightly as the rays of Laurelin streaming through the windows as each of his sons took their seats around the table.

When at last they were all assembled, Fëanáro addressed them. “My sons, I am most proud of your appearances last night. Seeing each of you like a jewel amid the crowd—” he ignored several groans “—swells my heart with—” a glimmer stopped him short. Laurelin’s light had caught on a long thread of gold on the tablecloth between Macalaurë and Carnistir.

“What is that?” Fëanáro asked.

His sons mistook the intensity of his tone for displeasure. “Oh, sorry,” they both said at once, reaching for the glorious strand of hair.

“No, let me see that,” said Fëanáro, extending his hand greedily. Macalaurë scowled (poor child, thought Fëanáro, he had clearly had too much drink), then plucked the hair from the table and held it out for his father.

Fëanáro snatched it from him and twisted it around one finger reverentially. He slipped it into a pocket. He looked from Macalaurë to Carnistir, briefly considering which of them— no matter. He had it now, that precious filament of mingled light he had so long sought.

“You did well,” he said to them both.

Sticking his fork into his eggs with satisfaction, he missed Macalaurë whispering to his brother: “Should we tell him?”

“No,” Carnistir replied, and shrugged. “Anyway, who's to say it isn’t hers?

#silmsmutweek #galadriel #maglor #finrod #galadriel x maglor #finrod x maglor #makarato #my fic

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