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idliketobeatree · 7 months

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There are so many ways Aziraphale can go about as the Supreme Archangel now, and I've realised I want it all.

Being all in charge, bossy and bitchy and hurt, not taking anyone's bullshit anymore? Unf. Being incredibly insecure and flustered, not accustomed to Heaven's rigid ways after thousands of years spent on Earth, uncomfortable with the spacial office and the impersonal white desk? Trying to liven it up by putting up a souvenir, and then finding it has disappeared overnight? Gimmie. In the official meetings, actually chiming in with suggestions only to be shut down and realising his position doesn't change the angels attitude towards him? Trying a different approach instead of just being nice - commanding? Resigned? Assertive? Breaking down after a late night meeting, finally alone, with tears in his eyes and hiccups and sobs, because he... doesn't know what to do? Utterly ruined and cannot-stop-thinking-about-Crowley, plagued by the memories of what he gave up, and for what? P l e a s e. Distressed upon hearing about the Second Coming, then figuring out a plan to save them all, that may or may not include a certain demon? Scheming behind everyone's backs and lying to their faces because, well - "what are you going to do, fire me?". Trying to contact Crowley every way he can - through the celestial phone, through Muriel, actually going down to Earth to watch from a distance, or just observing the space where he'd be on the globe. Or maybe actively not. seeking. him. out, shutting down every possibility of connection, because if he gives in, he won't have the strength to carry on anymore.

God, give me Aziraphale re-evaluating his relationship with Heaven, with the angels, with himself. He's capable of so much power, let him use it. Let him be sure. Let him be horribly mistaken. It's going to be delicious, I know, I will eat this all up.

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ecoamerica · 23 days

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youtube

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

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hummingbee-o0o · 6 months

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Remember how, before s2, it felt like time was just blinking away and then s2 was There TM?

Well, now it's been two weeks and it already feels like s2 ended 40 years ago.

#why oh why couldn't we get full 10 episodes #they're half hour long already anyway!#HBO better deliver for s3 #ofmd #our flag means death

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teamdevi · 2 years

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oh damn I just realized we haven’t gotten a single benvi hug yet 😩

#s3 you better deliver!!!#ben gross #devi vishwakumar #otp: bad morning enemy #nhie #my thoughts

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wiitchsduty · 2 years

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thinking abt how in 2x10 grego.rio told tally good job when she took out all those camar.illa agents, and how he told her to stay safe and it looked like he ALMOST went in for a hug(/kiss???) before him and m left to spread the word abt the new seed sound, and how he went straight to tally after the fight to ask if she was okay, and how when they were all back in the main building he sat kinda behind and to the side of her on the couch and had his hand on her shoulder,,,,, sobs

#i'm sorry i cannot stop thinking about them today fhdskjfhsdkj #literally every one of their interactions was building up to a romance s3 you had better deliver #‘ a rambling mess ‘ -- ooc #' worthy of the craven name ' -- gregorio

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flamehairedwritings · 2 years

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Do Not Touch

Characters: Jim Hopper x Female Reader

Rating: E, 18+ ONLY

Words: 10k

A/N: My take on your friend and mine: sex-pollen! I started writing this two years ago, isn’t that wild.

Tags: s3 Hop’, dub-con because of sex-pollen, fuck or die situation, Hopper being a huge dick at first, swearing, masturbation, dirty talk, thigh-riding, oral sex (F receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, doggy-style, creampies, hand on neck/throat but no choking, gentle-mdom Hop’, more submissive reader, slight praise kink, slight cum play.

Summary: A visit to Murray’s house of wonders provides a lot more than you bargained for.

Please don’t copy or steal my work, and please don’t post it on any other sites.

—

“... fuck are you talkin’ about?”

“They’re tapping your phones, Jim, how can you not see it?”

“‘cause it’s not fuckin’ true.”

“Oh, right, so...”

As Murray sets off on another rant, you raise your eyes to the heavens, or rather the dirty, damp ceiling, and tip your head back against the wall, exhaling a long, long breath.

You knew this wasn’t going to be easy. Not impossible, but not easy.

And even Hopper had known Murray was your only hope with this kind of thing.

This kind of thing being that neither of you speak Russian and Murray does.

You’d heard the message over the Hawkins Police Radio two days ago while you and Hop were working late in his office. He’d been adjusting the frequency, fiddling, more like, when the voice had suddenly come through, delivering a short message. You’d both stared at each other, then it had come through again. You’d realised it was the same passage and had quickly grabbed a pen, repeating it to yourself as you wrote it down phonetically on your notepad.

Neither of you had known what to do, so you’d just carried on with your evening, working on your new case. But it had weighed heavy on your mind when you’d left; with the strange things that had gone on in Hawkins in the last couple of years, you are suspicious of everything. Hopper apparently had shared your thoughts as, the next morning, he’d called you into his office, shut the door, and asked if you’d kept the note. When you said you had, you’d both then decided that deciphering it would put your minds at ease.

... Except it was really fucking hard because none of the words sounded close to anything you recognised.

Barely ten minutes later, Hopper had shoved his chair back and hissed out curses.

“We’re gonna go and see Murray,” he’d muttered as he’d strode out of the room to get more coffee.

You’d watched him go, irritation prickling at you because everything needed to be done right now with him these days. In the four years you’d known him, he’d never exactly been a very patient man, but this was different. In the last few weeks he was quick to rile, short-tempered, irritable, yelling more often than not, and you were starting to get sick of it.

So maybe it’s a good thing that he can let that all out on Murray now, who can give back as good as he gets, often, actually, better.

Not that you don’t stand up for yourself when Hopper is in one of his new moods and snaps. He never yells at you, he never has, just raises his voice slightly or gets unnecessarily snippy or even borderline patronising, but your usual tactic is to just walk away, leaving him to stew until he comes to you and makes his kind of apology (offering you a hot drink or a pastry), or you try and lighten the mood. That’s just getting tiring now, though.

And it’s also a huge turn-off.

Yeah, okay, fine, you’ve admitted it to yourself, you’re attracted to him, but it’s a line you don’t like to cross; he’s your boss and your close friend, too, considering everything you’ve both been through with El, Joyce and the kids.

Now, though, you’re not even sure you want to be his friend.

You’ve tried to talk to him, ask him why he’s so God damn angry all the time but he just brushes you off or says he didn’t sleep well. The latter is nothing new, he was a mess when you’d arrived in Hawkins, sleeping for a few hours at a time on his couch in his trailer, but he’d really come into his own since then, especially when he’d had to start taking care of El. The former is new. Living through life or death situations, spending many late nights working together, and the town being small has brought you two closer together, and you’ve confided in him and he in you, so it stings when he brushes you off like you don’t have a history, like you aren’t his friend. Like you don’t matter.

“Do you know what it fuckin’ says or not?” Hopper thunders in the next room, and the patronising edge to his tone has your nose wrinkling.

“Of course I do, you neanderthal, if you give me the fucking piece of paper then I will be able to write it down for you.”

For once, and you never thought that you ever would, you’re on Murray’s side.

There’s the muffled sound of cursing, then a patronising ‘thank you’ from Murray, and then it’s quiet, except for the sound of a chair squeaking as one of them sits down. From the huff, probably Hopper. Folding your arms across your chest, you exhale another breath as you let your gaze travel the room.

It’s exactly how you’d imagine Murray’s place would be. There are... things everywhere, on every surface, some things you don’t even recognise like devices and folders with foreign writing on them, all just strewn around. To your left on a counter there’s even a corked jar marked ‘DO NOT TOUCH’, filled with a russet-coloured liquid, an unfamiliar, what was once probably red, flower head submerged in it. It looks rather like a lily, but there are strange, swirling patterns on the petals that you don’t recognise.

Your attention is diverted by the sound of the chair squeaking again, boots on wood, and then Murray’s voice.

“Ah, ah, ah, what do I get, Chief?”

“What?”

“What do I get for my services?”

“What do you get? You don’t get a fuckin’ broken nose, you asshole.”

There’s the sound of paper sliding against skin.

“... What the fuck is this?”

“It’s what was written for me, word for word, so unless you got something wrong, then that’s it.”

There’s silence, then the sound of Hopper striding closer to the room you’re in.

“You’re welcome,” Murray calls as Hopper exits the room, and you press your lips together at his thunderous expression.

“Thank you, Murray,” you answer for him, raising your voice a little.

“Ah, you’re welcome.”

Dropping your arms as Hopper nears, you raise your eyebrows. “So?”

“It doesn’t make any fuckin’ sense,” he mutters, thrusting the note towards you.

Taking it from him, you read it, then frown as you read it again.

The week is long. The silver cat feeds when blue meets yellow in the west. A trip to China sounds nice if you tread lightly.

Inhaling a long breath, you shrug and look up at him. “Yeah, that makes no sense to me.”

“Yeah, I thought it wouldn’t.”

You make yourself interpret that in a kind way as you look at him, watching him lean against the counter beside you and take the note from you, shoving it into his pocket.

It’s complicated. It doesn’t make any sense. He’s not making a comment on my intelligence.

Licking your lips, pressing them together for a moment, you open your mouth, then close it... then open it again, your voice low, “Do you think this maybe has something to do with what Joyce was saying about the magnets? And the lab?”

If his expression was thunderous before, it’s just full on pissed off now. His gaze darting up to you, you can see how tight his jaw is.

“We don’t know that.”

“I know we don’t, but it’s a little suspicious—”

“Or it could just be some people communicating via code.”

“Uh, yeah, that’s suspicious, isn’t it—”

“Not necessarily—”

He goes to put a hand on his hip as he huffs out a breath, but his elbow knocks against the jar, pushing it off the ledge, and your eyes widen as your hands dart out in the same moment Hopper’s do. Both of you acting on instinct, it fumbles in both your hands for all but two seconds as you try to catch it, in the process the cork top sliding off and some of the liquid spilling onto your hands and his arms and you’re waiting for it to sting and burn but it doesn’t and then—

And then it’s falling and smashing on the floor.

You stare at the spreading liquid, the flower resting limply on it before your eyes dart up to meet Hopper’s, your mouth open. His is closed firmly, his hands, like yours, still raised.

“What was that?!” Murray calls, and you hear him approaching, your eyes now darting to the archway.

“Uh, it—”

“Nothin’, bye, Murray.”

Hopper grabs your hand and pulls you towards the front door, shoving it open and leading you out into the fresh air. He releases you and pulls his car keys out of his pocket as you head for the passenger side of the Blazer, both of you swiftly climbing in once he’s opened it. He’s starting the engine and turning the Blazer around before either of your seatbelts are on properly. Good. There’s only so much shit a human being can take from Murray.

Your seatbelt secured, a glance in the wing-mirror shows you the man himself, waving his arms frantically and faintly yelling for you to come back.

Absolutely fucking not.

Whatever it was, you’re sure it’s replaceable. Sure he collects weird things but it was just a flower, how precious could it be?

You hear Hopper blow out a breath as you head back to the main road, both of you relaxing. Leaning your head back, you keep your eyes on the road, letting the riddle swirl in your mind. You’re certain it’s connected to Joyce’s theories; in all the time you’ve been working at the Station you’ve not once heard someone speaking in code over the radio that wasn’t one of your own or kids, and as for Russian? You’d be very surprised if anyone in the little old town of Hawkins spoke it.

You want to broach the subject with him again, but maybe not now when you’re stuck in a hot car with him and only just starting a nearly two hour drive.

Boy, is it hot.

It’s just gone noon and it’s already sweltering. Rolling the window down, you tilt your head towards it, expecting some kind of breeze. There’s a light one, but it does nothing, so you grip the front of your shirt between your thumb and forefinger and waft it, trying to create some air. The way the shirt moves against your skin... every time it touches against it, slides against you with the movement, you’re hyper-aware of it. Maybe it’s just because you’re more aware of your body in general considering how hot you are.

God, it is uncomfortably hot.

You’re about to ask Hop to put the aircon on when he does so, angling a few of the grates towards himself. Glancing at him, you notice a few beads of sweat at his hairline.

“It’s hot, isn’t it?”

“Hm.”

Oh, well, that’s that conversation over.

You give him the benefit of the doubt, assuming he’s probably thinking about the riddle, too, so you return your thoughts to it, repeating it, turning it over and over—

It’s so hot it’s actually quite hard to think.

Blinking and widening your eyes a little, you say each word of the riddle slowly in your mind, but they just end up being words, and when you try and say it all together again you just end up stopping halfway through, forgetting it momentarily.

Just wait until you’re back, you can have a cool drink, whack the aircon right up and think about it until you go mad.

You angle the grates on your side so one’s sending a cool breeze to your face, the other your body, and then drop your hand into your lap—

Jesus Christ.

Your leg jerks a little, involuntarily, as you register the sensation of your fingers on your clothed inner thigh. You quickly move your hand to your side but even that, your fingers gliding over your leg, makes your stomach muscles tighten.

It had felt good. Far better than it usually did.

You’re just hyper-aware of yourself because of how hot you feel, it’s fine.

You shift a little in your seat and—

You catch yourself before a sound escapes you.

Fucking hell, that had felt good. So good in fact, your pussy is actually starting to ache.

Usually when you’re turned on, very turned on, the smallest of touches can have you gasping but... Are you turned on? You take a moment to consider it and find... Fuck, you are. Where the fuck has this come from?

Hopper clearing his throat pulls you from your thoughts, glancing at him. He’s sweating a little more and he’s gripping the steering wheel tighter, his knuckles almost white, but that’ll just be the heat, another thing that pisses him off.

You need a distraction from... whatever this is your body has decided to feel.

“Maybe it’s from another town.”

“What?” He says it so sharply, almost like you’ve said something completely ridiculous.

“The message? Maybe it’s from another town and just carried over—”

“Nah, I don’t think so.”

Your mouth closes tightly and you return your gaze to the road, staring at it.

Take a breath. He’s in one of his moods. Murray has riled him up. Just let him ride it out... Fuck that, I really need to say something to him about his attitude.

It’s the perfect distraction, planning in your mind what you’re going to say when you get back to Hawkins, coming up with retorts and come-backs to whatever he could say, acting out the conversation in your head and going down every route imaginable. You get so in to it, in fact, that you manage to just about forget how warm you are, and you don’t notice that Hopper is sweating profusely, his hips shifting every few minutes.

—

Your clothes are sticking to every inch of you. Your entire body aches.

What the hell is going on.

You’ve been in the car for a total of thirty minutes now, but it feels like a God damn lifetime. Thinking about arguing with Hop had only gotten you so far; it had channelled some of this weird energy you’re feeling but then suddenly you’d thought about ripping his shirt off and shoving him onto his God damn uncomfortable couch and sitting in his lap while you told him all about how God damn annoying he is.

And then the aches, the bone deep aches, had started.

Fuck, do I have the flu?

You just feel awful. Your elbow rests against the car door, your hand supporting your head, and you stare out of the window, taking slow, deep, steadying breaths. You feel nauseous and your skin is on fire. You’ve tried to keep quiet but you actually think you might be sick, and between throwing up in his car and asking him to pull over, you think the latter will annoy him less.

“Hop’.”

“What?” He doesn’t snap this time, instead he sounds... strained.

“Can we pull over soon? I don’t feel well.”

“Yeah.”

Wow.

Okay.

That hadn’t been so hard.

His voice is still strained and short, but, again, that could just be the heat. He doesn’t pull over immediately and as you glance up you notice a sign for a motel not too far ahead.

Oh, good.

Ten minutes later, the tyres of the Blazer are screeching as he turns sharply into the parking lot of the motel. You have to grip at the handle of the door as he swings in, parking swiftly and braking hard.

“I’ll get rooms.” The words are said so sharply it’s like they’ve been punched out of him.

God, he really doesn’t want me to throw up in here.

Wait, ‘rooms’? Are we staying for a night? That’d be nice.

You both climb out, and you’re almost dizzy from the action. Hopper’s already striding towards the reception booth and you slowly follow after him, wiping the sweat from your brow. You have to walk with your legs slightly apart because your thighs rubbing together... What the fuck is going on? By the time you reach Hopper he’s already got a key and is turning on his heel, walking back behind you.

“C’mon.”

As he passes you, his elbow brushes against your arm and you both flinch because, fuck, a weird little electric shock thing happens. Except, whereas when that usually happens you only feel it on your skin, this time you feel it all over your body, spreading down and curling somewhere in your lower stomach.

And it felt good.

Beads of sweat run down your arms, back and chest as you follow him up a flight of stairs to the first floor. It takes every ounce of energy you have to get up there, whereas Hopper’s almost running. The door’s open when you finally reach it and he’s got the aircon on high which you’re grateful for. Closing the door behind yourself, you’re about to thank him when you look over at him and you notice that he’s drenched in sweat, just as you are.

He glances up and briefly meets your gaze before he runs a hand through his damp hair, his eyes sweeping the room as he paces, his eyebrows raised.

“Only one room left. Sorry.”

You shake your head, the action just increasing your nausea, as you shrug. “No, it’s okay. It’s not like we need to spend the night. Just... think I need a nap, or something. Feel like I’m gonna be sick.”

There’s a short silence in which you sit down on the nearest of the two double beds, your hands on your knees.

“Me, too.”

You look up at him, your brow dipping. “What?”

Hopper gestures at himself before he drops his hand, exhaling a hard breath. “Feel like... feel like I’m gonna be sick, too. Feel so fuckin’ hot, can’t think straight.”

“Yeah, me as well...” Your frown deepens. “Are we both sick?”

“How’s that possible?”

“I don’t know. It came on so suddenly, too, only after we left...”

You meet his gaze as he presses his lips together, following your train of thought.

“That son of a bitch...”

Crossing the room, he grabs the phone from the bedside table and dials Murray’s number. At any other time you would have laughed that he had it memorised. Like they’re pals.

His tongue darting over his lips, your eyes following it for some reason, he holds the phone to his ear, his jaw clenched.

Murray answers on the first ring.

“Hey, Murray—”

You can hear the other man even from where you’re sat.

“You broke the jar, didn’t you.”

“Uh, yeah, but I can—”

“Oh, you fucking idiot. Is she with you?”

Hopper’s eyes briefly dart to you. “Uh, yeah, hey, I’m sure it’s replaceable, I can pay—”

“One, no, it’s not, and two, it’s not me you should be thinking about, you ass.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“It means, are you feelin’ a little weird, Jim? Huh? Is your lady friend?”

“Uh...” He glances at you again before turning his back, lowering his voice slightly. “Yeah, why?”

You stood up instantly as he turned, and, ooff, there’s the dizziness again, though you manage to move closer to him, a frown pulling at your features as you tut, so you hear Murray’s humourlessly chuckled reply.

“Oooh, hoooo, you’re both in for quite a day.”

“Why, you fuckin’ asshole?”

“Let’s just say you’re going to be feeling certain urges... or maybe you’re already feeling them?”

Hopper glances at you yet again before turning his back away from you again. You hiss and move closer, brushing against him, which just makes you both grimace because there’s the electric current again. You try to stay as close as possible without touching him.

“Just tell me what’s fuckin’ goin’ on, Murray.”

“The best and most polite thing to call it would be an aphrodisiac.”

You frown as you glance up at Hopper, but he’s just staring at the wall.

“What? Why the fuck do you have something like this, Murray?”

“I was going to dilute it to sell in certain markets.”

“As what?”

“An aphrodisiac, dumbass.”

As Hopper snarls and opens his mouth, you grab the phone, your fingers brushing together making your stomach flip and something clench inside you.

Holding the phone to your ear, you swallow before exhaling a breath and murmuring, “What do we do, Murray? How do we stop feeling awful?”

He sighs, and you’re surprised and also slightly unsettled by his tone softening a little. “There’s not much you can do, except what you have wanted to do for a long time that neither of you will admit.”

Before you can speak, Hopper calls, even though he’s right beside you, “And what the hell does that mean?”

“Fuck each other!”

Your mouth drops open as you think your heart stops, and Hopper freezes beside you.

“I’m sorry... what?”

“Oh, come on, you know what I mean—”

“No, Murray, I mean,” you quickly cut him off, rubbing at your damp forehead as you lick your dry lips, your cheeks burning. “What did you, why would we need to, uhm, do that?”

"It’s the only way to ease the aches and pains, honey, that—”

“Pain?”

You’re aching, yes, but you wouldn’t say you’re in pain.

“Stop interrupting me, Jesus...” You press your lips together at his exasperated sigh, before he takes a breath. “The pollen from that flower is like an instant aphrodisiac. If it comes into contact with your skin, that’s it, kiddos, you’re horny. I was diluting it so it’s less lethal, hence why it was in that jar marinating in that liquid. I’m assuming you got some of it on you when you oh so cleverly broke it for no reason?”

“Yeah, but we didn’t mean to—”

“What did I say about interrupting? Depending on how much you got on you, you’re gonna feel hot, then your whole body’s gonna ache, then’ll come the urges and the pain, and once those hit, hooo... so you two had better get to it.”

You feel like you’re having some kind of a fever dream. Rubbing your forehead again, you close your eyes for a few moments as you almost trip over your words, “What, hang on, w-what do you mean by lethal, what happens if we don’t, you know, do anything? It’ll just wear off, won’t it?”

Murray’s silent.

Oh... this is bad.

“C’mon, Murray, answer her.” Hopper’s sudden voice makes you jump.

There’s a quiet sigh. “You gotta take care of each other, together, or... or you’ll die.”

It’s the first time you’ve ever heard Murray speak in an entirely gentle tone.

You don’t know what stuns you more; that, or his words.

“... What.” Your voice is so quiet.

Hopper is silent.

“I don’t know how much you were exposed to but no matter how much, the need and the pain, if nothing is done, can get so bad that your organs start to fail and shut down. If it was just a little, it’ll take longer, if it was a lot then I’d say it’s only a matter of time.”

“No, it... it was just a little. Few splashes. I think.” Your voice sounds far away to your own ears.

“Well, you’ve got some time, then. But it’s gonna be uncomfortable so get to it.”

“Right... Thanks, Murray.” You place the phone down, feeling so far out of your body, hanging up before he can say another word.

Silence.

You look up at Hopper as he clears his throat and moves away, being very careful not to brush against you, his hand running through his hair again. As he sits down in the armchair, you sit on the edge of the bed opposite, staring at the floor.

It’s... it’s... You don’t have the word for it. Wild. Outlandish. Crazy.

“He could be lying, right.” You look up at Hopper as he speaks, meeting his gaze. “He could be mad that we broke somethin’ of his and is just makin’ this all up.”

“Yeah,” is all you can think to say.

“This could just be a reaction to it.”

“Yeah...” You shrug after a moment, blowing out a breath. “Pretty fucking bizarre thing to make up.”

“Well, that’s Murray.”

You both fall silent as he stares at the wall and you stare at the bed. It’s got a patchwork blanket on it, all red squares with other panels of red floral designs. It reminds you of the damn flower. It’s like it’s taunting you. As are the beads of sweat sliding down your spine. And the new, faint, throbbing in your cunt.

You believe Murray.

It’s... wild and bizarre and you don’t understand it at all but, yes, you believe him. Your lips are suddenly dry, either from the realisation or the flower, and you lick them as you lift your gaze to Hopper. He’s still staring so intently at the wall, hands gripping the armrests.

His eyes flick to you as you speak gently.

“I think we should stay the night. Until this wears off. Don’t want to infect anyone else, if that’s possible.”

He nods curtly, expressionless. “Okay.”

Thankfully, Joyce has El for the night, Hopper having asked her to take her in case you both stayed longer than you thought you would, so that’s one less thing. You think about saying that out loud to him, then swiftly decide against it. Of course he’ll already thought about that, will probably take offence at you asking and think it implies you think he hasn’t.

You hate the silence of the room, though, hate the space it provides to think, so you continue instead with, “We’ll just... ride this shit out. It was only a few drops. We’ll be fine.”

Hopper may be expressionless, but what you can’t see are his blunt nails digging into the fabric of the chair.

“Okay.”

—

It was a mistake, turning the TV on.

It’s too loud, too bright, but, fuck, you need the distraction. Your eyes are fixed on it like you’re possessed, and your shirt is soaked, sticking to your skin. Uncomfortable. Your skin is slick, you can feel sweat sliding down your face, arms, back. A loud commercial comes on and you grab the TV remote, turning it off as a wild burst of irritation suddenly flashes through you.

Focus on the room. Two double beds. Bare desk. Mini fridge. Bathroom. Standard motel room. Boring. Plain. Dull. So dull. Think about how dull it is.

It doesn’t work. It hasn’t been working for the last twenty minutes. Has it been twenty minutes? Longer? Less? You don’t know and you don’t want to know. Your body is aching, not only physically but with need, like you’ve never, ever felt before. You feel almost drunk, too, unchallenged words on the tip of your tongue, your brain doing the bare minimum to stop them from coming out... but they’re not just words, they’re pleas.

Touch me.

Kiss me.

Fuck me.

Your eyes dart to Hopper. He’s not moved but his shirt is soaked, too, the hair on his chest, peeking out the top of the grey, flannel button down, damp. That hair... You stare at it. How far down does it go... What would it feel like if you ran your fingers through it...

Your pussy clenches around nothing and tears start to sting at your eyes.

Fuck, I need to be touched.

The words leave your mouth before you can stop them, thick with unshed tears. “Hop’, I feel awful.”

A muscle in his jaw moves. “It’s just a reaction to whatever it is—”

“Yeah, and what if it’s the kind of reaction he was talking about?”

Hopper finally looks at you, brow dipping. “You believe him?”

You hate the way he says it, all disbelieving, making you feel like you’re an idiot.

“Yeah, I do. Why would he lie, especially about something like this? Yes, he’s a dick, but he’s not this much of a dick. He’s more likely to just rip into us and go on and on than make something up.”

“You can’t say that, you don’t know him.”

Brushed off. Again.

Your chin rises slightly, meeting a challenge you might be imagining. “I’ve known him long enough.”

His jaw moves as he arches an eyebrow. “Oh, you hang out all the time do you? You best pals, know everythin’ about him?”

“No, it just doesn’t seem like him—”

“Doesn’t seem like your good pal Murray? How would you know? You can’t just make assumptions like that, he is a—”

The words lash out of you. “Oh, just shut the fuck up, Hopper.”

He pauses, lips still parted, his own words dying on his tongue... until new ones return, his eyebrows raising as his head tilts. “... Excuse me?”

Anger feels good, it channels some of this increasingly restless energy swirling inside you. “Just shut up, you’ve been a real asshole all week, all month, all the time I’ve God damn known you, actually—”

“You didn’t think I was an asshole at the Christmas party.”

You freeze, staring at him.

Last year’s Station Christmas party.

Why did he bring that up.

Was he thinking about that.

You know he was thinking about that.

Because you’ve been thinking about it, too, minutes earlier, intently. It had suddenly come rushing back to you, his hands on your waist, your lips on his, tongues stroking at each other, the moaned sigh you’d released as he’d pressed against you.

You’d both been drunk, though, and lonely and alcohol makes you horny so you’d wanted him to kiss you and he’d spent the last hour before it looking like he’d wanted to, too, your eyes constantly finding each other, looking, really looking, and then you’d just bumped into each other as you’d come out of the bathroom, but it seemed like he’d almost been waiting for you and then you’d talked, no, you’d flirted, he liked your dress, you liked his comically festive tie, and you were both laughing, your hands somehow on each other, maybe to steady yourselves, and then you’d... then you’d kissed.

Neither of you had brought it up, ever, until now. You’d been so horribly hungover the next day that you hadn’t even remembered it until late in the evening and you’d felt so embarrassed. You’d fretted for the rest of the night, wondering if you’d ruined your friendship and a relationship that meant so much to you, but when you’d gone into work the following Monday he hadn’t said a thing, hadn’t even looked at you differently. You’d been so incredibly relieved, but it had come back to you every now and then; how good his lips had felt, how passionate the kiss was, how his hands had felt on you.

All this time you’d thought he had just forgotten it... and it appeared that wasn’t the case at all.

Your already warm face becomes warmer.

“I was drunk.”

He’s got a fucking smug look on his face, like a fucking petty bastard.

“You kissed me.”

“I did not.”

“You did, you pulled me in.”

“Oh, just shut up, Hopper, it doesn’t matter or count anyway because we were drunk.”

“Doesn’t it?”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“I saw the way you were lookin’ at me—”

“Why does it matter so much to you?” you snap, staring at him.

He pauses, the smug look quickly fading. Then, he shrugs, the corners of his mouth turning down. “It doesn’t.”

“Good, shut up, then.”

Silence descends.

And you fucking hate it. At least while snapping at one another you don’t think about how your panties are now soaked and you just want to feel some fingers against your cunt and a cock deep inside you...

A strained groan slips from your lips.

“You okay?” he mumbles, and you blow out a harsh breath.

“No, I’m not, I just—”

Oh, fuck.

You were just about to say it. You were just about to ask him to fuck you. Rolling your neck, your breaths slightly shorter, ragged, you lick your dry lips again.

What the fuck do I do, I’m literally about to ask my boss, my friend, the absolute pain in my ass to fuck me so I don’t, possibly, die.

Then, it comes to you.

“... You just what—”

“Just need the bathroom,” you cut him off exasperatedly, every intonation of his voice prickling your skin, and not in an entirely unpleasant way.

“Jesus, fine,” he mutters, and you hope he doesn’t notice how quickly you turn your back to him as you stand, striding towards the wooden door to the bathroom.

Closing it firmly behind you and turning the lock, you step back from it, releasing a breath that has your shoulders relaxing minutely. You catch your reflection in the mirror to your left and release another breath at your expression; sweaty, tense, and, yes, there’s a trace of panic in your eyes.

Just do it. Do it then you’ll stop thinking about it and then it’ll be over and you’ll feel okay.

Your fingers, seemingly of their own accord, move to your jeans, fumbling with the button and zip. In your haste, the zip catches on the material and tears fill your eyes again.

Oh, come on, come on, come on, please...

You don’t realise you’re murmuring the words out loud, so fixated on what your fingers are doing. Finally after a moment or so you can shove them down, your panties with them, and then you’re spreading your legs as one hand braces against the door and the other slides between your pussy lips.

You can just about muffle the moan that falls from your mouth as your finger tips glide back and forth over your clit, your teeth sinking into your lower lip.

Oh, fuck...

It feels heavenly, unlike any pleasure you’ve felt before from a first touch. You’re dripping, too, so soaking wet that you can hear it as your fingers quicken their pace... but it’s not enough.

How is it not enough?

Tears are slipping out of the corners of your eyes as you grit your teeth, a need so desperate coursing through you that it’s painful.

What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck... Why isn’t it working?

You slip two fingers inside your pussy, hoping filling yourself even a little will help but... no. It just makes you crave a cock inside you even more, increasing the aching that’s running through your entire body.

Oh, please, come on—

Two gentle knocks sound against the door. You freeze again, mouth open as your fingers stay buried inside you.

A throat clears on the other side, and then Hopper speaks, voice slightly muffled.

“Hey, uh... I’m sorry for snappin’, and for my shitty attitude, I... I know I haven’t been the best to be around lately...”

His words just become sounds as a kind of white-noise, ringing starts in your head.

Oh, no, no, no... No...

Your cunt is throbbing. You can’t help but think about him murmuring those apologies in your ear as his cock thrusts slow and deep inside you, as he tells you he’ll make it all up to you, everything, that you feel so good around his cock and he wants to make you feel so good all the time...

As your hand drops and you straighten, you don’t think you have absolute control of your body anymore.

And you don’t fucking care.

Unlocking and yanking the door open, you instantly meet Hopper’s gaze, watching him blink as he abruptly silences whatever he was saying.

“Woah, you okay?”

How is he so normal? Yes, he’s sweating, profusely, but that’s it, seemingly. What a sight you must look in comparison. You watch his gaze travel down you, settling on your jeans and panties that are around your knees. His eyes dart back up to yours, and you watch his slick throat bob as he swallows hard.

“What the hell you doin’.”

You can hear your own breathing, ragged, short. Staring at him, you don’t know if it’s sweat or tears running down your cheeks.

“Hop’, I need you to touch me.”

It’s as if you’ve just asked him to detonate a bomb. His eyes widening, his mouth moves but nothing comes out for quite a few moments.

“I... Hey, now, hang on—”

“Please.” At any other time you might have been embarrassed for sounding so tragically desperate. “I tried, I tried to touch myself and it didn’t work, I’m aching so bad, please—”

“Sweetheart—”

That nearly has your knees weakening, a faint sound emitting from the back of your throat. He swallows again at hearing it and runs a hand down his mouth, shaking his head.

“I mean—”

“Fuck, Hop’, please. Don’t you feel it, too? I feel like, my, my, my whole body is just in pain, it fucking hurts, Hop’.”

You don’t know whether he feels it, too, or he’s just pitying you, because confliction is rife across his face.

And then he takes a step back, and he might as well have punched you in the stomach with the gasped breath that releases from you.

No, no, no, no...

“Hop’...”

He takes another step back, unable to stop his gaze from flicking down to where your hands are pushing your jeans and panties down and off, your shoes with them, kicking them aside. Then, he looks away, so sharply and suddenly, his fingers flexing by his sides.

“I can’t.”

“Why.”

You can’t think of any reason that would be damn good enough right now.

Hopper can’t look at you as he shakes his head again. “It’s not right, you don’t want this, it’s just the flower—”

“I want this, I want you, Hop’, I need you...” You’ve stepped towards him, your hands on his chest, sliding over his damp shirt, fisting it in your hands. “... I need you inside me...”

His jaw is so tight, his whole body is, you can feel his muscles underneath your hands, and his breathing is harsher. He raises a hand, which you don’t notice is shaking until he places it on one of your forearms. You wait for him to try and pull it away, but he just grips it lightly.

“You... You don’t want me really, this, this isn’t right—”

“I do, I do...” Your chin lifts and your lips brush against his jaw, and you swear you hear him groan quietly. You cling onto it, even if it isn’t real, and the words tumble out of you. “... I’ve thought about you before, inside me, making me cum, I’ve fucked myself imagining it was you before, so many times, please, Hop’, I’m begging you...”

He must have groaned because now his head is tilted against yours, lips against your cheekbone. His thumb is brushing against your inner wrist, too, so lightly. You press against him... and feel it.

His cock straining against his jeans.

Maybe it’s not just you, then. The arm he isn’t gripping moves, your hand dropping to settle on his thigh, your fingers caressing.

“Please, Hop’...” you whisper.

You know he groans this time, his lips so close to your ear. You know he’s seconds from crumbling, too, his hips angling towards your hand, his hand sliding from your wrist to your bicep, head turning closer towards yours, lips inches away—

Then, he freezes, a breath hissing out through his teeth.

He doesn’t move away but, staring at him, you can see the confliction return and even some anger that washes over his features.

“Hop’—”

“This isn’t the way I wanted it to be.”

You pause, lips parted so your harsh breaths can escape audibly. He hadn’t wanted to say that. He’d hissed the words out, eyes unable to meet yours, in fact he’s now closed them; regret swirling inside him.

But you can only think about one thing right now.

You’re shaking with relief and anticipation. “... You’ve thought about me, too, then.”

A statement, not a question.

His eyes open, finding yours. “Yeah.”

You relish every word you say. “Then fuck me like you’ve wanted to.”

Any last restraint he has crumbles.

And he must have be in just as much pain as you because it happens in mere seconds.

Hopper’s hand grips the back of your head, holding you close and tight against him as his lips crash against yours. A combination of a sob and a moan emits from the back of your throat as you grip at his shirt, desire burning through your veins. His other arm wraps around your lower back and part of your brain is grateful for his strong grip because then he’s suddenly turning you and walking you back towards the closest bed.

The backs of your legs knock against it and you fall back on the soft covers, and it’s like he didn’t let you go at all as he’s already on top of you, one arm by the side of your head, the hand of the other resting on your torso, fingers splayed. One leg is between yours to hold himself up and your brain is working so fast, trying to find any way to soothe what your body is crying out for, that it takes you a moment to initiate its plan. Shifting down, your back arching with the movement, you start to rock your bare cunt against his thigh. The moaned cry you release is swallowed by his mouth, but he gives a groan in return.

“Fuck...” he hisses, feeling how wet you are as you’ve already soaking through his jeans.

The material is rough but that just makes it more heavenly against your swollen, aching clit and folds. Gripping his biceps, your lips tear from his as you tip your head back with a loud moan, eyes closed tightly. It’s not enough but it still feels so fucking good.

It takes you a few moments to realise he’s pushed your shirt and bra up, and his lips instantly descend upon your hard nipples, kissing, licking, sucking, pulling with his teeth slightly.

Tears are sliding down your cheeks in relief and a smile is pulling at your lips because—

“Yes...” you gasp, fingers curling tightly into his hair, tugging at his scalp.

His hips jerk as you do, and his grunts tell you just how much he likes it. So you do it again, and again, and again... and realise he’s grinding his hips against your thigh, just like you’re doing to him.

“Fu-uck...” he growls against your chest, his mouth moving in a deliciously sloppy way up your skin to your neck.

You whine as he kisses you there, your head tipping back, teeth sinking into your lower lip.

It’s so, so fucking good... but it’s still not enough.

“Hop’, need more...”

“Shh, don’t worry, baby, I know...”

How can he string words together? You had just about managed to breathe yours out.

What delicious words they were, though.

You must have done something in response to them, bucked your hips a certain way or made a sound, you don’t quite know because your mind is starting to feel like liquid, because he’s suddenly smiling now.

A lazy, smug smile that makes you clench.

Gazing down at you, his hands splay across your waist, and he presses his thigh a little harder against your cunt, which has your back arching.

“You like when I call you baby, huh? When I talk to you?”

“Yeah…” is all you can so eloquently answer with.

“That’s good to know.”

How is he capable of this much talking? Does the pollen enhance sexual characteristics that are already there?

Whatever it does, you can’t think on it much further because the hand on your waist is now travelling down your stomach, and you’re about to complain at his thigh suddenly disappearing when they’re now replaced by his long fingers sliding over your cunt.

“Oh, fuck…” you gasp as he groans, your eyes falling shut.

“Jesus, baby, you’re so fuckin’ wet, you’re fuckin’ dripping…”

You don’t even bother trying to respond. Gripping at his shoulders, all you can do is moan as three of his fingers drag up and down your folds. When they move over your clit, you don’t know whether it’s a sob or a moan that falls from your open mouth. Either way, pure pleasure courses through you. Maybe at any other point you would have cum right there and then from how intense it is, but you need something inside you. Whatever is happening, that’s all you know.

“God, Hop’, please…”

“I know, baby…”

And as he says the words, he pushes two of his fingers inside you.

“Yes…” you cry, your hips pushing down so they slide all the way inside you, but if you’d been coherent enough to you would have bet he would have done so anyway.

“Jesus…” he hisses, tone strained, and he instantly starts to slip them in and out of you, sinking them in as far as he can each time. “… You’re so fuckin’ wet…”

He groans again when you clench down on his fingers, and it seems to break whatever kind of resolve he was still holding onto, however the hell he was holding on to it.

A pitiful whine of protest escapes you when his fingers pull out, and he just nods swiftly, strands of hair falling over his forehead as he rises up onto his knees.

“I know, sweetheart, I know, just let me… Fuck…”

Lifting your head, you watch him shift backwards until his boots can touch down on the ground, but it’s only a moment before he’s kneeling on the floor and then his hands are wrapping around your thighs, widening them, and then he’s lowering his head and then… and then…

Your mouth drops open wider as your hands dart to his hair, plunging in once again as his tongue licks a long, wide path up your folds.

“Just needed to fuckin’ taste you…” he mumbles against you, the vibration of his voice making you mewl.

If his hands weren’t keeping your thighs apart you would have wrapped them around his head. All you can do, though, is rock your hips and grind against his tongue. He growls with pleasure, and just as you inhale a breath to beg for more, he pushes three fingers inside of you.

Three.

Three of his thick, long fingers slide inside you with no resistance or pain at all, and you throw your head back with a loud cry as you clench around them.

“Fu-uck...” he groans, curling them a little, stroking inside you. “... Look how fuckin’ easy that was, huh... How fuckin’ easy are you gonna take my cock, baby? Huh? Is it gonna slide right in? Fill you all up on the first stroke?”

Again, at any other time, you would have cum right there and then, but... somehow it’s just not enough.

Gritting your teeth, because while it’s not enough, the pleasure is still so fucking good, you release a sound between a sob and a moan.

“Hop’... Fucking need more...”

“You want my cock in you, sweetheart, huh?”

“Please.”

He groans again, and then you hear it.

He’s stroking his cock in swift, firm movements, and you want to be doing that, you want to be touching him, tasting him, pleasuring him, and—

“Want you to cum on my tongue, wanna fuckin’ taste you,” he mumbles against your pussy, lapping at you again, and you have to take in a few ragged breaths before you can speak.

“... Can’t... Not enough... Need your cock...”

“Christ...” He exhales a breath that closely resembles another growl. “... Do you know what hearin’ those words does to me, huh? Oh, you’re gonna cum on my cock, baby, but I’ve fuckin’ dreamed about you cumming in my mouth so you know what you’re gonna do?” He lifts his head, and you open your half-lidded eyes to look at him. “... You’re gonna cum on my tongue.”

And lowering his head again, he sucks hard at your aching clit.

And maybe it is just enough, because your back is arching and you’re pulling at his hair and he’s having to tighten his grip on your thigh and tears of relief or maybe it’s beads of sweat are sliding down your cheeks because yes, yes, yes...

You don’t realise you’re chanting the word as your climax builds, and when it rolls through you, a blissful serenity follows it...

That lasts all of a few seconds before you’re squirming again, the throbbing in your core somehow sharper, more desperate.

Hopper, however, is sucking and licking at you still, lapping up your release as he moans, an arm moving to settle over your lower stomach. Opening your eyes, you gaze down at him and see his hand working over his cock still and you want to move and touch him but his arm is keeping you down and his tongue is continuing to move so deliciously against your cunt.

And then he’s releasing short, sharp groans, and his hips are jerking and his hand is starting to slow, and then he cums, and you can only watch as it trickles down his fingers.

No, no, no, you want to feel him cum, you want it inside you—

He lifts his head, licking his lips, and the hunger still burning in his eyes steals your breath away.

He rises, and you can only watch with ragged breaths as he kicks his boots away and pushes his trousers and boxers off. His dick is still hard, pressed flat against his stomach, tip red and weeping.

“You want my cock? You want my fuckin’ cock inside you...?” he’s murmuring, and your eyes dart up to meet his as you release a breath.

“God, fuck, yes, Hop’...”

“C’mere...” He’s suddenly on top of you, then, cupping the top of your head with his large hand as he props himself up on his elbow. It eases some more of the pain a little, having him crowd you, feeling his skin on yours, but you both know exactly what you need.

His eyes are boring down into yours, and your nails are digging into shoulders, and then, finally, you feel the tip of his cock against your cunt.

“Mhm, yeah, fuck, inside me...” you’re breathing, pleading, half out of your mind with need as you nod.

And then, without any more teasing or talking, his thick cock slides all the way inside you.

Your eyes squeeze shut as you cry out and your back arches. Pure pleasure and relief and bliss overwhelms you, and you haven’t even cum on him yet. In fact, he can’t move yet because you’re clenched so tightly around him, your slick walls gripping at him like your cunt doesn’t want him to ever leave.

His breaths are short, sharp, strained, and his hand has moved to rest under your head, a gesture that, at any other time, you would have recognised as tender.

“Oh, fuck, baby... Fuck... Feel every inch of my dick... You feel it, huh?”

Words aren’t possible anymore, so you can only nod, eyes still shut tight, and your breaths fall away into moans as he kisses at your neck, all of them sloppy, uncoordinated, needy, and you suddenly realise he’s murmuring to you.

“... Wanna fuckin’ move, wanna make you feel so fuckin’ good, wanna cum in your wet cunt and feel you cum on me, want you screamin’ my fuckin’ name...”

As if his words were the key, you unclench around him with a whine of desire, and, with a hiss, he instantly draws his hips back and then snaps them forward, sinking fully into you once again.

Fucking lighting zips through your body, you’ve never felt anything like it.

He must feel it, too, because he doesn’t stop for one moment, drawing all the way back and thrusting right back into you to the hilt, each time harder than the last and, distantly, you can hear the headboard smacking against the wall.

“... Good girl... Good fuckin’ girl...” he’s growling through gritted teeth, and you realise you are because you’re doing exactly as he wanted.

You’re shouting his name amongst your moans.

And not even just ‘Hop’ or ‘Hopper’; ‘Jim’ is falling from your lips, and each time he hears it his hips snap forward just that little bit harder.

“Yeah, baby, good fuckin’ girl... Good girl... Fuckin’ Christ... Can you hear how fuckin’ wet you are? Listen to how fuckin’ good you take my cock, baby... Take it... Fuck, take it...”

Nevermind listening, it’s how he feels inside you that’s making sparks skitter across your skin. He fills and stretches you perfectly, dragging and sliding against your sensitive walls deliciously each time. You’re not going to last much longer, the last coherent part of your mind knows, and it nearly makes you sob with both relief and dread.

You never want this fucking feeling to end, it’s all so good, so fucking good but you know it’s just going to feel even better when you cum, when you feel him cum.

Managing to open your eyes, you find his gaze still on you, flicking from your parted lips to your chest.

“... Cum...” you whisper, voice hoarse, and you have to swallow before you try again. “... Cum inside me, please... Want to feel you cum... Fill me with your cum...”

“Yeah?” His jaw is tight, eyes boring into your own again. “... Wanna feel my fuckin’ cum fillin’ you up, baby, huh? Want my fuckin’ cum leaking out of you?”

“Yes”, you chant over and over and over breathlessly, gaze fixed on his, unable to look away because his hips are stuttering in their rhythm, just slightly, but enough that you know.

He’s close.

“Cum, cum for me...” you start to plead now, “... Wanna feel you cum, cum inside me, Jim, please... I need it...”

“Yeah, you fuckin’ need it, baby?” he grunts, voice low, gravelling.

“Yeah, give it to me, please...”

“Take it, fuckin’ take it, take my cum...” He groans sharply then, mouth dropping open. “... Fuck...” His hand darts out from under your head and grips at the bedcovers, and with a few more thrusts, he then buries deep inside you and cums with a shout, eyes shut tight.

And euphoria spreads through you.

You feel his cum spill inside you, and the pleasure that courses through you from the sensation sends you spiralling into your own release. Gripping at his arms, nails digging in probably to the point of pain, you throw your head back and cry out.

It’s unlike any bliss you’ve ever felt before.

For a few moments you may even black out as it rolls through you in wave upon wave upon wave.

Hopper feels closer, as well, as if he’s collapsed slightly but just about managed to hold himself up in time. His lips are against your jaw, and you can feel his panted breaths, his lightly trembling frame.

Oh, you’re trembling, too, can hear it in your own breaths.

At least you can try and calm your heart rate, now, because it must be over, it has to be. It’s been done now, it’s...

It’s...

It’s still there. That strange energy, whatever the hell it is. It’s not as intense now, but it’s there. Enough so that you lick your lips and gaze up at him, finger tips gliding down his arms.

“Hop’... I can still feel it.”

It’s a few moments before his eyes open, and when his gaze meets yours, and you realise he’s still hard inside you, you know before he speaks what he’s going to say.

“... Me, too.”

Neither of you speak, or move, just gaze at each other. Enough sense has returned that you take these few moments to breathe, but not enough that when those moments do start to stretch on... you just can’t help yourself.

Teeth sinking into your lower lip, you start to slowly roll your hips.

His eyes fall shut with a guttural groan, and your involuntary mewl answers him.

When his eyes then snap open, you also can’t help the smile that pulls at the corners of your mouth.

“You not satisfied yet?” he murmurs, voice dangerously low, and you shake your head as your tongue glides across your lips.

“Fuck me again, Jim.”

His thumb and forefinger are suddenly gripping your chin, and his lips hover over yours as he exhales a breath.

“It not enough that my cum is fillin’ you up? You need some fuckin’ more?”

“Yeah...” you breathe, trying to lift your chin higher so you can kiss him, but he holds firm.

“You want me to fuck you again, sweetheart?”

“Please, Jim...”

His lips brush against yours, and it’s the lightest of touches, but it’s enough to have you moaning as you rock your hips again.

“Please...”

“Well, seein’ as you’ve been a good fuckin’ girl...”

Pulling back, he rises up onto his knees, and pulls out of you. You mewl softly at feeling empty now, but you’re instantly distracted by his hands gripping your thighs, keeping them parted wide, and the fact his eyes are fixed on your cunt.

“Fuck... Your pussy looks so pretty with my cum spilling out of it...”

Fucking hell.

“Hop’, please, fuck me, I need you again, I need your cock—”

“I know, baby, I know.” Your words have his gaze tearing away and returning to your own, and he releases your thighs with a groan. “Turn over. On your stomach.”

You don’t need telling twice.

Except you have your own demand.

“Take your shirt off, I want to feel all of you.”

When his fingers fly to the buttons of it and start undoing them, then you roll over onto your front, resting your cheek against the covers.

You hear him toss it aside, and then his fingers are sliding down your back, over your ass and to your cunt. His fingertips caress your pussy lips lightly, gliding up and down, and your eyes fall shut at the gentle waves of pleasure that pulse through you. He’s toying with your mixed cum, gently pushing it back inside you and spreading it along your cunt.

“Jesus Christ...” he breathes, half in awe, half aroused.

Any other time you would have left him indulge himself for as long as he wanted, but the desperate need inside you is growing once more.

“Jim... Fuck me...”

You’ve only just finished pleading him, when his cock sinks inside you, this time in a slow, long thrust.

As your mouth drops open in a high moan, your fingers gripping onto the covers, he releases a long groan, eyes fixed on his dick disappearing inside you.

“Fuck, look at that...” His hands grip your ass, spreading you open wider. “... Take me so fuckin’ good... So fuckin’ good...”

Your eyes nearly roll back when you close them, as he starts to repeatedly give you slow, long thrusts, watching his own cock spread your soaked lips apart. You’re nearly delirious with pleasure, cunt pulsing around him, and when you feel him move, you can’t even open your eyes.

He settles over you, holding himself up on his forearm while his other hand slides under your neck and grips it gently, making you lift your head, tipping it back a little.

And now his lips are right against your ear.

“Fucking perfection... Like you were fuckin’ made for my cock, huh, sweetheart?”

You can only moan in reply as his thrusts speed up a little.

The position you’re now in somehow makes it feel more delicious than before, like his cock is somehow filling you even more. You now focus on the lewd sounds caused by how wet your pussy is, too, and it’s so lewd, so filthy and hot that it’s making your stomach clench.

You must clench around him again, too, because he inhales a ragged breath before speaking.

“You gonna cum for me again?”

“Yeah...” you breathe, mind starting to turn blank.

“Gonna cum on my hard cock? Soak it and the fuckin’ bed?”

“Please...”

It feels more intense this time, the mounting pleasure, and your fingers twist into the bed covers as you try and ground yourself. He’s murmuring into your ear still, hand on your throat still gentle.

“... what a good fuckin’ girl you are, taking my cock so good, gonna take my cum again, huh? How many times can I cum in this pretty little pussy, how many times can I fill you up until you’re satisfied, huh...”

It’s all too much, too good...

Your orgasm crashes over you.

Your brow dipping, your mouth dropping open, a scream is pulled from your throat, and the world goes dark.

—

Your eyes snap open.

Oh, fuck.

There’s a slight pounding in your head, the beginnings of a headache most likely from dehydration.

Annoying.

When did I last have a drink, though? Or eat? Must’ve been...

Oh.

It all comes flooding back to you.

That... That actually happened?

Releasing a soft groan, you lift a heavy hand to try and rub at your forehead—

Another hand catches it, and the space beside you dips slightly.

“Hey, hey, woah, you okay?”

Your gaze darts to the source, and you find Hopper sat there, concern etched across his features. You don’t have time to think about it or answer, though, as he swiftly releases your hand and a glass of water suddenly appears before you.

“Here, drink this.”

Sitting up a little, you drink deeply, your throat dry, raw, actually, and the entire contents is nearly gone when you finally lower it, gasping a breath in.

He takes the glass from you, placing it on the bedside table, and as you lick your lips and adjust against the pillows, he watches you, fingers rubbing against his mouth.

Clearing his throat after a few moments, he ask quietly, “You okay?”

Is it too soon to tell him that was probably the best fuck of your life?

Raising your eyebrows, a light smile pulls at your lips. “Yeah. A little sore, but...” Your smile fades as he looks down at his hands, his jaw moving. “... Oh, Hop’, I didn’t—”

He can’t look at you, his head shaking. “I am so... I’m so fucking sorry.”

“Hey, no, don’t be.” Leaning forward, you place your hand on his arm, hating that he stiffens. “We couldn’t control ourselves—”

“I could’ve, I could’ve held out longer, I could’ve locked myself in that fucking bathroom, I just...” He looks fucking devastated.

Shifting closer, you wrap your other hand around his arm, tightening your grip. “You shouldn’t be sorry. I mean it. I...” Well, it’s now or fucking never, and all things considered... “... I wanted it, Hop’. Even without that aphrodisiac thing. I wanted you. I have for a long time.”

Your face is burning and your heart is pounding but relief settles on your shoulders the moment you finish speaking.

His head turns towards you now, gaze darting to meet yours, searching it. “You... You’re not lyin’ to me?”

Your lips lifting again, you shake your head before murmuring, “No.”

Hopper exhales a breath, his hand setting over both of yours. “I’ve... Fuck, I’ve wanted you, too. Just... I imagined it going a little differently.”

You give a soft laugh as delight overwhelms you, and his thumb brushes against your skin. “Yeah, we really skipped the first date, didn’t we.”

“In the traditional sense.” He smiles as you laugh again, but it’s gone just as soon as it arrived. “... You sure you’re okay?”

You don’t care how foolish you look, with your tender smile, gaze openly filled with affection. Probably because his gaze is exactly the same.

“I am. Really. It’s a good sore.”

A corner of his mouth lifts. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Your teeth graze over your lower lip. “I wouldn’t mind getting used to it.”

“Oh, sweetheart, I’d hoped you’d say that...”

Cupping your cheek, he closes the gap between you and kisses you tenderly, the pad of his thumb brushing against your skin gently. It’s sweet, gentler than you had ever imagined him to be.

It’s perfect.

When his lips leave yours but he remains close, you smile again. “I guess we can give Murray a thorough review, then.”

He growls quietly as he brushes his nose against yours. “Don’t talk about that man right now...”

As he moves closer, laying you back on the bed, your arms slide around his neck and your smile widens.

“Yes, Chief.”

—

Reblogs and comments make my day in a way I can’t describe.

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged or removed in my future works!

Masterlist

Tagged: @herb-welch, @clonecaptainrex @davidkharboursex, @jobean12-blog, @warmbeardsandredwine, @mademoiselle-black, @scrunchinn, @flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash, @divadinag, @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan, @ashphoenix105, @alahmorah, @daughterofthebrowncoats, @letsby, @kiwiphroot, @ashmely, @sistasarah-sallysaidso, @unicornsandgliiitter, @lucifer-in-leather, @heyjudeinthesky, @sleepylunarwolf, @ambeazyyy, @countryfire22, @sithlordslut, @mondsafari, @norcula, @earinafae, @beltzboys2015-blog, @jinxiejenna, @justsimplevicky, @ginasellsbooks, @vale0413, @mrslydiaholden, @kimberliinabox, @thoughtsmeander2tumblingblindly, @allylupin, @cant-shake-this-feeling-off, @the-bitch-gotham-deserves, @warriorqueen1991, @thesurestthing, @zuni21798, @quietlovelovely-blog, , @windinyoursnail, @my-rosegold-soul @madkskillz, @im-not-great-at-making-up-names, @sergeantangel, @bitchinsinclair, @dewy-biitch, @focusonspn, @wearethebrokenones, @sarcasm-is-my-native-tounge, @thatprettymvthafvcka, @pulplorrd, @gifsbysimplysonia, @opalsandlacemain @gothackedalready, @ayatimascd, @missaudreyhorney, @chiefharbour, @saltandroot, @ollypopp @soyuncheez, @ladydmalfoy, @morphoportis, @stop-the-world-i-wanna-get-off, @the--king--in--yellow

Apologies to those Tumblr won’t let me tag!

#jim hopper x reader #chief hopper x reader #hopper x reader #chief jim hopper x reader #jim hopper #jim hopper smut #my writing #flamehairedwritings #just a goofy sexy time

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creators-lounge · 7 months

Text

✏️ Creators' Content ✏️

This post is for anyone who is curious about our server members' content, and to share a lot of suggestions for people to check! 💕

Since Tumblr is a website that mostly depends on reblogs, everyone is welcomed to reblog to give these amazing creators a well deserved boost!

Remember to also encourage other content creators as well, you may make someone's day with a silly reblog or comment!

Note: This post might be edited depending on the members' information, comic updates, projects updates, etc, so check the original post instead of reblogs.

Note 2: This is a private server for plenty of reasons, we do not accept requests nor petitions to join, so we would be grateful if you do not put that pressure on our mods or on our members. Sorry in advance, and hope you still enjoy all of our artworks! You may check our QnA for a better explanation if you'd like, too.

v Members' Comics Section v

ALIVE by @tatatale

> First Chapter

A L I V E is not an AU as such, but a buch of characters from different AUs and timelines who decided that they'll form an AU. So it's technically an AU, but no. Enjoy.

Bovid-20 by @hansama

> First Chapter

Bovid-20 is a (very short) suspense mystery comic that tells the story of a home invasion in the middle of a lock-down. You are the main character of the story.

Bitty Problems by @theskeletongames

> First Chapter

A comic featuring bitties with Sanses, primarily focusing on Underfell Sans and his bitty

Delivery! by @anovainspace

> Comics

Three out!codes from collapsing alternative universes came together to one void, all just wanting to obtain access to the multiverse for their end goal; therefore, they created an alibi to not create suspicion for wandering around different places. Setting up a pen paling system for others to contact each other through mail and delivering said mail.

Don't Forget by @zirkkun

> First Chapter

“Don’t forget us. We’re with you in the dark.” After years of abandonment, the Undertale multiverse has been mysteriously shrouded in darkness. there only remains one survivor by the name of Ink… but despite a faint hope from everyone who died that everything can return to normal, he’s forgotten all the pieces to restore the multiverse back to what it once was.

Flicker of a Neon Soul by @harmonytre

> First Chapter

Since the beginning of time, monsters have had colored souls. Only the royal family's soul could change color. That is, until two young skeletons find their colors.

How to greet a new pal by @theskeletongames

> First Chapter

A crossover comic with Sans falling into Underfell.

Idoltale by @nekojaf

> First Chapter

Idol and her friends go on a big multiverse adventure after a new and strange Force threatens their universes.

Impostortale by @s3-izures

> Masterpost

Armed with an obsession for masks and semi-immortality, a shapeshifter roams the multiverse in search of roles to fill, missions to complete, and shenanigans to commit.

Non-Lethal AU by @s3-izures

> Masterlist

A certain Destroyer has been found... except this one doesn't seem to be destroying anything so far. In fact, he seems like a bit of a wimp, doesn't he?

Paper Crane by @little-noko

> First Chapter

Where timelines and lives ends, in the void are countless shattered souls struggling to remain alive and come back to the living world they came from. A being without a name gather them to form a single entity, with nowhere to go, they found themselves traveling endlessly to make sense of who they are and why they are here.

Prismtale by @harmonytre

> First Chapter

Havana, Sans, Scarf Mouse, Bob, Monster Kid, Fuku Fire, and Ficus Licker are thrust into an adventure they'll never forget. Will they find a way home? How will they deal with their new powers? Who on earth is PC?

Spitetale by @nosebleed-inglishera

> First Chapter

After several genocidal routes, everyone in the Underground started to remember, causing monstersto fearing for the next time they get killed again. Will Frisk take the choice to finally save everyone and fix their mistakes?

Timetale by @allesiathehedge

> Prologue

Seven hundred years after they were sealed underground, monsterkind still hopes that they would one day return to the surface. Not only does Sans have to worry about finding a solution to destroy the barrier on behalf of the King, but he also has to face a ghost of a past that he sorely wanted to keep buried. Will Sans be able to make peace with himself, his duties, and his failed love? Only time will tell...

Underlust Reimagine by @zirkkun

> First Chapter

An Underlust AU that takes a spin on the original concept to present a thematically similar story, but with some slightly different aspects that have led some of the characters to take different roles.

Under/Source by @slylock-syl

> First Chapter

After a virus wielding hacker threatens to cause chaos throughout other universes, Necros takes it upon himself to track them down and protect anyone he can along the way.

Underwizard by @susartwork

> Prologue

Humans began hunting monsters to gain great magical powers from their souls. After a huge massacre, seven human wizards decide to seal the monsters underground with a magic spell. Hundreds of years later a human child appears, determined to free all the monsters and save them from a new threat.

Unitale by @toky502

> First Chapter

Unitale (An alternate tale) is a comic of an alternative and altered version of many other stories from other undertale au's together, is just an alternate tale more.

Various comics by @wr-n

> Masterpost

> Eldritch AU

> Dust comics

Dust Comic is a comic following the Bad Sanses as they look for a way to cure Dust of his lethal dose of Determination and LV.

Members Projects and WIPs

Blocking Sans by @samess-moon (Twitter)

Damaged tale by @6nimus9

Damaged tale is an Alternate Timeline of Undertale that takes place in a frozen post-genocide timeline where only o̸n̵e̷ ̵c̸h̷a̷r̷a̶c̵t̷e̸r̸ remains, basing its concept in how consequences can strike back.

Encantale by @codeyspace

The Human vs Monster war ended a millenium ago. Monsters trapped in the underground with hope and magic. What should've led to their extinction was instead replaced by something... enchanting.

Escort Mission by Yoki-Doki (DeviantArt)

Way before the events of Undertale, even before the war between humans and monsters, a little girl lost her way in the monster kingdom. This is the quest to help her return home.

Flowerfield AU / Ask Sunflower by @asksunflower / @tatatale

This is an ask blog about a silly guy who acts like a cat and a goat king, but is actually a skeleton. He likes flowers and tea, and sometimes things happen.

Herb by @omero-megane (Twitter)

LAU by @nixensibrat

Lonertale by @blvdcharms

Lonertale is an AU revolving around a medieval, single-most pacifist timeline where war between humans and monster is post-poned up until the main cast of characters are young adults. Follow Asriel and his friends as they go on to protect monsterkind.

Storyteller by @cursedmuii (Twitter)

“I exist based on the will of stories. I have no place to return, no name, or age, but I am called Storyteller... Come here with me, I can take you everywhere with the stories I tell… only you listen to them.”

Strays AU by @stoukadraws

“Give me your hopes and dreams, and I shall grant you true salvation.” An unknown human falls into Mt. Ebott, and begins their journey through the Underground...But something is off. Will they discover what’s truly going on behind the scenes?

Undereats by @sui-imi (Twitter)

A food delivery service that works with restaurants across the multiverse. It's run by a Gaster called Exec. They work together with - and are located in - Commercetale, an AU where trades and sales empower monster magic.

Underforgotten by @nezu-tan

Undergut by @theartist-june (Tw. Gore)

Undergut is an AU where hunger makes for desperate times. It’s not that there is no food… it’s that food could barely sustain, could barely satisfy. Magic is not enough. We need more… more…! Will you be able to survive the hunger?

UnderREM by @socksandbuttons (And @/ohlookanothercartoontofallinto)

Dreamtale with dreams and the cast of Undertale.

Underrewind by @wishingstarinajar

A comic and fanfiction/short stories are currently in the works to tell the story about Rewind, the main protagonist of this AU.

Undervalue by @6nimus9

Monsters, instead of getting trapped down by a magic barrier, are trapped directly by humans, who after winning the war started by greed have decided to take advantage of the monsters’ ability to create precious stones and gems of different values.

Wickedtale by @alch3mic (AO3) (Read Tw's.)

WICKEDTALE is a reader insert fairytale inspired Undertale AU set in the twisted Ebott City. As one of its many unfortunate inhabitants, do you have what it takes to survive in such a wretched town surrounded by secrets and misery? Well, luckily for you there seems to be a certain skeleton in your life who will go to any lengths to assure your happy ending together.

Great artist you should check anyway!!

@bloowe-blu - @lazzlady - @minaruzi- @normalayasstuff - @sanssupremacy - @shenzcorner

Other fandoms content!

@galaxii-star (Multifandom) - RazzyPossum (FNAF) - @jadenskyfare

#Undertale #Undertale AU #Undertale OC #Undertale comic #UTMV #UTMV AU

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thecameronchronicles · 1 year

Text

Leather Bound

TW: public sex. Dom!Rafe. Degrading language. Smut.

SUMMARY: sex on Rafe's motorcycle.

WORD COUNT: 1400

REQUESTED

Anonymous asked:

omg i just watched obx s3 and i'm feral for buzzcut rafe 😭😭 imagine him bending you over his motorcycle and fucking you until you can't walk- pls write a fanfic for this i'll love you forever

Leather Bound

The thrill of the wind of your hair paled in comparison to the feeling of his arms pulling you tighter around him. Your dress much like the smoke of his exhaust as it was forgotten in the wind behind you until he furthered the distance between you and the pogues. None of them could ever understand why it was you always found yourself in his arms. His reputation and vices alone were enough to make any respectable girl of your standing smart enough to turn away. But they didn't know how powerful it was to bring a man like Rafe to his knees.

Only tonight, the rush was evident for reasons all their own. Topper got too handsy at Midsummers, promoting him to deliver a pinch square in the nose. He offered his hand as some hero and you accepted, bloody knuckles and all. After Kiara called you a traitor and Sarah upturned her nose after how this secret relationship was a betrayal to your closest friend, you were swept behind his bike.

"Here..." He groaned after climbing off of the bike, pulling his helmet, and you in quick succession.

"Careful for the pipes, baby. Skirt up. Panties off..." This was what made their disapproval worth it. Dirty words and the promises that followed that were anything but empty.

"Oh my God...my little slut always so ready for me..." You felt the heat from his pipes at your thighs as you obeyed, your shins ghosting with the danger, all forgotten when his foot kicked your ankles apart and his fingers spread you wider for him.

"If only they could see you right now. So fucking desperate, aren't you? Bet you wanted my fingers in here all night..." You nodded, turning back with your bottom lip between your teeth.

"But you went there with Topper..."

"You didn't want anyone to know..."

"But they do now, don't they baby? And even if you went with him…you’re gonna come for me…yeah?"

"Yes..." You moaned as the tip of his middle finger slipped inside of you. Torturing you down to the tease to the bend as you gripped anything you could in sight.

"All those times I couldn't leave any marks...I'll make up for it now..." He began at your ass. "Count."

"One-" you gasped following the first strike.

"Keep counting baby...stay with me..."

"T-two..." You groaned as you moved against the leather of the seat, a small amount of friction adding to the sensation.

"Good girl...keep going..."

You continued until you had both of his fingers buried inside of you and an ass as sore as your knuckles for digging into the safe metal of the bike.

"Toes. Now." You bent forward, his breath on you from behind. His tongue began slowly.

"Pussy worth dying for..." He grinned in the recollection of JJ saying he'd kill him. "Mmm..." He moaned, the vibrations already making you tremble.

"They think they can make you come like I can...but we both know that's not true..." He sucked on your lower lip, teasing, before his fingers gripped your ass further apart.

"So they know I've had you every way? Even in their little chateau? On all fours where they eat ramen and talk about stealing my gold?" He slapped your ass again. The idea making you feel guilty, quickly remedies by the way he made you drip down your legs.

"Or on that cheap little boat with my cock making you cry? Isn't my yacht so much better?" He asked, smirking as if it was a euphemism for something else. In truth, everything was better with Rafe, but not for the reasons that seemed so obvious. He pushed your body and your boundaries while also respecting a line so many decided for you. He made you come beneath their noses but allowed you to live your own life. It was unexpected given his reputation. But with everyone else deciding what they wanted from you, there was freedom in his possession.

"Oh, you don't get to come yet..." He withdrew, wiping his chin and turning you to face him.

"You still have to earn my forgiveness for letting Topper see you in this dress. Making him think for even a second he got to see you out of it..."

"I was never going to let him..."

"No? Prove it...show me how sorry you are..." He motioned to his belt as you were quick to oblige. A rough terrain was ignored as you moved to your knees. His belt and pants undone in record time.

"Eyes to me baby...let me see you mean it and aren't just enjoying it with your whore mouth." Your thighs clenched at the degradation as you took him over your tongue.

"Fuck..." He groaned as you took him in stride. A tongue over the vein beneath that wrapped along his impressive length. Hollow cheeks and fluttering eyes corrected by a pull of your hair.

"You're so fucking gorgeous when you cry for me..." He brushed his thumb at your cheek. "You like crying for my cock, pogue? Hmmm?"

"Yes..." You explained with a muffled mouth as he bent over the bike.

"Stand up. I need to be inside of you right fucking now." Before you could really stand, you were bent back over the bike and his cock making you utter a silent scream.

"Don't think this means I forgive you...but damn...I might just forget for a minute..." He smirked at your neck.

"Give it to me baby...I know you're tired...but we're celebrating aren't we?" He smirked, a hand to your ass making you groan.

"Jesus Christ...you look so good taking me...come here..." He pulled you upwards by your hair, ripping the strap of your dress loose until your breast was exposed. "Let me play with it-"

"Ahhh...." You moaned in approval.

"Good little slut knows the noises I like..." He pinched your nipples. "But she forgets I like her to beg-"

"Please please please...Rafe please..." He grinned at your shoulder, forcing both breasts to the night air.

"Play with them...let me hear all those little whimpers you make without me before I make you scream and remind you you'll never have to come alone again." Your eyes shut right as he quickened behind you. Your leg pulled over the rear seat that was more.if a support than an actual passenger rear.

"Goddammit!" He cursed. "So tight baby..."

"Yes! Rafe!" You moaned, his hands greedy and painful. Each breast taken harshly before you were set flat over the bike, clit rubbing into the leather.

"That's right baby...let them hear you all the way back..." He slapped your ass.

"Do I need to stop so you can focus?"

"No!. Please don't stop baby! I'm so close!

"You think I don't know? Oooh...you want it, don't you, you little slut?"

"Please!" You whimpered as his touch was unforgivable, bruising expected where he held you.

"Look at me..." He turned you to face him as the bike rocked beneath you.

"You're mine. And I want you to come all of this bike and we're gonna do a little victory lap where your cum is till dripping off the leather..." This was all it took to collapse over that edge. Your body trembling as he took you harder. His own release now pooling and washing down your legs as he withdrew.

"Come here..." He pulled you in the driver's seat, sitting behind you.

"Spread..." His fingers were back at your sex.

"I said I wanted you to drip..." His fingers were quick and cruel, used for the purpose alike before he softened as you created a second edge.

When your body returned to you enough to have some semblance of control, he pulled you to him in the sweetest of kisses. The final reason you would never apologize for your feelings for him was this. He was equal parts dominant and caregiver. Always knowing when not to go too far with you, but teaching you everything about your body you had yet to know.

And he was just getting started.

"Now how about that victory lap, my dirty little pogue?"

TAGLIST:

@rafesmoon @maybankslover @puzziepoppin @gillybear17 @onclouds999

@penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @maybankslover @slut4tangerine @slvtherinseeker @bluesongbird @slut-era @ailee-celeste @camilynn @sweetestdesire @jjmaybanksangel @phildunphyisadilf

@belcalis9503

MASTERLIST

RAFE CAMERON MASTERLIST

2ND RAFE CAMERON MASTERLIST

3RD RAFE CAMERON MASTERLIST

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron fanfiction #outer banks #outerbanks #obx #outer banks fanfiction #outerbanks fanfiction #obx fanfiction #outer banks smut #outerbanks smut #obx smut #drew starkey

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shigayokagayama · 3 months

Note

Do you feel like s3 was rushed? I always hear people gushing about it and don’t get me wrong when it was good it was great, but honestly I was so disappointed by it. Especially comparing the final animated season to the manga

from what i can tell season 3 went through insane production hell due to covid. like. my opinions on season 3 are:

first 2 episodes: better than what they were in the manga, did a good job fleshing out two mini arcs

broccoli arc: pretty much perfect i dont think i would have changed anything. actually no i think the "girls stare at you because youre really cool" could have been delivered funnier. other than that yea this ones pretty much the perfect adaptation no notes.

alien arc: personally prefer the manga version bc its SO much funnier but i like the sort of bittersweet nostalgic vibe it has. really pissed they kept that one joke in the end credits segment though bc it ruins the tone of the rest of the episode and i actively warn people to just stop watching once the credits start bc of it

confession arc: im so sad about what they did with this arc they cut like two of my favorite scenes in favor of adding shit that adds almost nothing to the actual message and themes of the arc. i will never stop being bitter about losing "i knew i would be needed" and the "no one will save me" segment. even if you dont read the rest of the manga PLEASE read chapter 100 it's so good and the anime doesnt capture it. also why did they change it so mob doesnt throw the cake in reigens face thats like the entire point of the SCENE

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astro-in-prog · 1 year

Text

I know this won't happen in Bridgerton S3 but.....

I REALLY REALLY want a scene where Colin is fencing with the other gentlemen of the ton and he's a bit distracted because he's starting to question why Pen's suitors are bothering him so much. (Bonus if they tease him about spending time with Pen or his S2 declaration)

Then, in walks one of Penelope's suitors (preferably the douchey-est option or Fife), and Colin asks for a match (he's telling himself that he just wants to see what this guy is made of) OR the suitor asks him for a match so he can boast about being beating a Bridgerton (which Colin sees right through).

They fence, the suitor seems pretty skilled and Colin's heart isn't in it and he isn't winning. But while they're talking the suitor either disrespects Pen with some comment OR declares that he is going to propose and it sends Colin's entire world SPINNING. We see his entire demeanor change from chill Colin to what did you just say about my wife best friend to Colin 'I AM GOING TO END YOU' Bridgerton.

Colin proceeds to then DESTROY HIM and his pride (Colin in S2 was not the best fencer but I would love for him to pull a 'didn't see that coming did you?' and show off his newly acquired skills). He beats this suitor SO well in fact that the ENTIRE TON hears about it. People like to pretend that its only the women that gossip but are you telling me that Colin Bridgerton kicking another dude's ass at fencing is not something the other gentlemen are going to spread all over the ton?

Bonus: Anthony and Benedict are also present and are absolutely stunned that their brother just humiliated another gentleman of the ton like that. They ask him about it and Colin says the suitor was being ungentlemanly and disrespecting Pen. He brushes it off and pretends like its no big deal because he was just doing his duty. Anthony and Ben share an eye roll and a very pointed look because of course this was about Pen.

The speculation in the ton is WILD with people saying Colin did it to defend Penelope so much so that even Pen hears about and has to write about it in LW (but she underplays it and when Colin reads LW he is offended LW thinks Penelope is not worth fighting over).

Even better if Pen calls him out about it because why is he going around basically dueling her suitors to defend her honour? He is not her husband and he is certainly not Lord Featherington (more foreshadowing) and Colin is just confused because our boy can't even imagine NOT defending the love of his life his bestie. It would add tension between them and force Colin to question why he reacted the way he did (love my dear Colin... IT'S LOVE).

It would work as great foreshadowing (as we know Bridgerton loves to do) for Polin - all the other suitors aren't considering Colin competition at the moment and underestimating him because of his comments last season but he's going to come out of nowhere and win over Penelope.

Do i just want to see Luke Newton fence again? YES I DO.

Am I coming up with extremely complicated ways to make it happen? YEP

Am i ashamed? NOPE

All the male leads have had a scene in the show where we see how frustrated/jealous they are (Simon boxing with Will and Anthony fencing with his brothers). The idea of Colin secretly having gotten better at fencing over the past year and destroying one of Pen's more douchey suitors would be EPIC. (I will watch this shit on repeat for years to come) And I JUST KNOW Newts will deliver with Colin's microexpressions going from calm and unbothered to pissed off to cocky and charming when he wins.

WHO DO I HAVE TO PAY TO MAKE THIS HAPPEN?😭

(since we probably won't get it I am working on writing a fic about this on AO3 --- coming soon!🥲)

#polin #polin bridgerton #bridgerton s3 #colin bridgerton #colin x penelope #penelope featherington

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nocontextlestat · 11 months

Text

him + bondage, fishnet stockings, nipple piercings, heavy eye makeup, leather jacket, sheer tops, tight pants, high heeled boots, glitter etc etc amc you BETTER deliver in s3 for rockstar!lestat (yes i’m h0rny)

#interview with the vampire #iwtv #iwtv amc #amc iwtv #lestat de lioncourt #lestat

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ecoamerica · 23 days

Text

youtube

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

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wri0thesley · 1 year

Note

Maybe pantalone for S3? 👀

cw: yandere behaviour, manipulation.

“Nothing is ever enough for you, is it?”

Pantalone is holding another bribe in his hands; a necklace glittering with diamonds and pearls that he wants to fasten about your throat, a collar in all but name. His own hands are gloved, long and elegant – the look on his face as he looks down at you calculating. It strikes you cold down your spine.

He gestures around the room – his bedroom. Your prison.

“I want you to let me go home,” you say to him, your voice cracking with pain and exhaustion. One of his servants – some low-ranking Fatui member – checks in on you every hour and asks you desperately if you need anything from him. Water, or food, or medicine, or anything that he can provide to ensure that Pantalone’s favourite and most cherished darling (prisoner, you think) is taken care of like some pampered pet.

You know why he sounds desperate, too. You know that if he cannot convince you to eat or drink or bathe or take care of yourself, Pantalone will punish him and not you, and you will receive a new attendant with the crushing job of ensuring that you don’t let yourself wither away. You feel bad for them, sometimes.

And then they simper at Pantalone, all but kissing his shoes, and any sympathy for them you once had vanishes.

Pantalone lets out a sigh. You sit on the floor, mulish, your back against the bed as you glare at your gaoler with all of the rancor you can summon.

“You are home,” he says to you, voice soft and silky smooth as he drops the gold-and-jewels concoction on the dressing table. “You know that, darling. You belong to me; and things that are mine, I keep here.”

“You cannot own a person,” you tell him, and Pantalone looks at you, unimpressed. He does not lower himself to his knees to look at you on even footing – merely walks towards you, looking down his nose at you, the gems on his glasses chain glimmering in the light.

“I think you’ll find that with enough Mora and enough power,” he says quietly, “I can do anything I want. I can buy anything I want. I can own anything I want.”

You had not fought, really, when Pantalone had wanted you. It had almost been exciting, to be wanted by a Harbinger – a man who could provide you all of the luxury and riches that you yourself had never experienced. A man who was so well-regarded, so unfailingly polite, who bought you gifts and smiled at you and told you that you would never want for anything--

But that was before you’d realised just how much of you Pantalone wanted. It was not enough for him to simply court you – he needed you in his home, needed you to bend to his will, needed you to never look at another man and to fall on your knees before him as if he was delivering you benediction and you were a repentant sinner. Pantalone wanted – still wants – all of you. And in return for that, he gives you silk and satin and jewels and gold.

It’s not enough for you to give up your personhood. But when you had told him you were leaving--

Well. That’s when he’d started locking the door to his bedroom, when he’d given you a Fatui guard outside of your door, when he’d gotten colder and crueller and more wanting.

“You don’t own me,” you tell him, your voice quavering just a little, as you pull yourself up onto your feet. “I’m not yours--”

Your words are cut off by thumb and forefinger digging into the meat of your cheeks, squeezing your face between the gloved hands. Pantalone’s stare is cold.

“I give you everything,” he says, in that cold, detached tone. “I dress you up like the finest of Snezhnayan society, I let you eat from my kitchens only the most beautifully prepared of dishes, I bring you jewels and presents and keep you in a room better than any hovel you may have lived in before--” He roughly jerks your face, lowering his own closer to you so you can see the bitter frost in his eyes. “And still, you’re an ungrateful little nothing.”

“If I’m so ungrateful,” you pant, “why not find someone better? Why not find some other precious jewel who’ll spread their legs for you and let you kiss them and be what you want? Why not throw me out onto the street?”

Pantalone raises one eyebrow coolly, as the words simmer in the air between you. You realise that you mean them. None of this is worth losing yourself to Pantalone completely. None of this – not the marble halls or the gold leaf or the luxury that exists in everything Pantalone touches – is worth your dignity.

“Oh, darling,” Pantalone’s voice drips with condescension. “Surely you know the most precious gem of all is the one that you dig from the ground and set with your bare hands?” His lips curve into a smile that’s like the snick of a knife being unsheathed. “There’s still so much left for me to do to you.”

#yandere for ts #genshin impact posting #yandere genshin impact #yandere pantalone #ask game #drabble #writing

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laiqualaurelote · 9 months

Note

Follow up question from your Ted/Trent one: would you elaborate on your S3 disappointment? Thanks for letting me pick your fascinating, insightful, brilliant brain!

You're very kind. My disappointments with S3 are manifold but I will try to sum them up here.

There was a pervasive wrongness to much of this season that had not previously been present, unlike in S1 and much of S2, where radical kindness was a driving force and storylines would seem to be heading towards a predictable trope, then be surprisingly and pleasingly subverted. Several S3 plotlines were handled in a way that left an unpleasant taste in the mouth, without any catharsis attached. The truly baffling Shandy storyline is a prime example of this. I thought at first that this was part of a wider plan (the dark forest, so to speak, from which we would eventually emerge) and defended the show to friends as such, but weeks went by and it became clear that a show that had once been meticulously, lovingly plotted in every detail had devolved into a haphazard mess.

Story arcs came and went with no perceptible purpose. The show promised Important Social Commentary (the attacks on Sam's restaurant, Keeley's sex video leaking) then failed to revisit these issues once the episodes in question were over. Plot points were hinted at, then never brought up again (Higgins broaches the subject of firing Ted to Rebecca; this is never returned to.)

The characterisation was a mass of unfulfilled potential. Why make the reason for Sam not being chosen for the Nigerian national team Edwin Akufo's cartoonish grudge, and not his S2E3 calling out of government corruption, which would have made far more sense narratively and given Toheeb Jimoh far more to work with? Why tell us repeatedly that Keeley is a PR genius, then fail to have her take charge of her own PR crisis? Instead of Shandy proving to be a bad hire, surely a better way to show Keeley learning to be a good leader would have been for her to integrate Shandy and Barbara's diverse skill sets and attitudes into a functional workplace dynamic. Why not show the most key milestones of Nate's reformation, especially his confrontation with Rupert when he quit West Ham? for that matter, why give the moment of a West Ham coach standing up to Rupert for ethical reasons not to Nate, but to George Cartrick? I think we were robbed of a truly meaty Nate villain-and-back arc.

The season finale was a mess. Ted barely seemed present. I'm not a Tedbecca shipper, but even to me the fakeout at the beginning seemed unnecessarily cruel (and a waste of time in a season where so many things were not adequately explored or given closure). The truly bizarre choices in the final montage, especially Beard's Stonehenge wedding with a conspicuously absent Ted, were the final straw. That Ted needed to return to Henry was, for me, without question, but the way it was handled was deeply questionable.

What bothers me a great deal is the lack of change. Characters either regressed (Roy and Jamie re: Keeley, Ted re: Michelle) or had no agency in major crises inflicted upon them. The opening and closing close-up shots are meant to be of the character that changes most over the course of the season. This holds true for Rebecca in S1, and Nate in S2, but not Ted in S3. What changes for Ted is circumstance: he is in London, leaving his son; then he is in Kansas, back with his son. He himself, however, is not shown to be changed to a degree significant enough to close the show on.

This is not to say it was all bad. There are things I love very much about S3: Roy and Trent's surprise dynamic; Nate/Jade; the Hey Jude scene; the strings exercise; Beard's Jean Valjean backstory; the entirety of Sunflowers, a near-perfect episode that deserved the Emmy writing nomination that was mystifyingly given to So Long, Farewell. It is only that we were asked to believe that the showrunners knew what they were doing in delivering us the final season of a three-season arc, and we did, and that belief was not rewarded. Therein lies my disappointment.

#ted lasso #ted lasso meta #ted lasso spoilers

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cerastes · 1 year

Note

how do you, uh, utilize irene?

in a NOT carnal way.

what use does "makes idiot enemies fly" have that my specialists/supporters lack? s3 hits like a truck but there are many heavy hitters among guards so she never gets a turn. which operators does she best synergize with? in a NOT carnal way

Due to her height, 156 cm, Irene allows for various strategies, such as the top of the washing machine, the billiards table, the desk, an-- Not in a carnal way, right, I completely lost interest in this ask.

RIGHT SO, Irene's thing is that she's a pretty integral Operator that fills plenty of seams in a composition because she has a rare characteristic: Even though she has her devastating S3, she's not a specialist in just boss bursting, and can hold lanes effectively due to the very rare traits that Swordmasters have among Guards: 2 block, with decent bulk, good attack, and explosive skills. Irene in particular has her Module that grants passive flat 70 DEF ignore per normal hit (and she hits twice per normal hit, so 140 DEF ignores in two hits), meaning her damage is good outside of Skills too, due to the way DEF works in the game, and 50% of the time, she ignores 50% of enemy DEF thanks to her Talent. Irene is a consistent 2-block damage dealer with no real weakness. She's not a jack of all trades because she's actually good at all trades in which you would use her for. Not the best (except at burst and boss killing, in which she's top tier with her S3), but well above average.

Now, Ch'en, the other 6* Swordmaster, is burst-based almost exclusively. Irene has her S2 which takes less hits to charge and can hold multiple charges in order to actually be able to be used outside burst situations. If you are to compare the numbers on Ch'en S3 vs Irene S3, it would seem Ch'en wins out by a little, but in practice, Irene's S3 will likely deal more damage, because her S3 Floats enemies, and she ignores half the DEF of Floating enemies 100% of the time, and her hits have a small AOE, meaning that, unlike Ch'en who needs you to clear the trash mobs first in order to ensure all of her hits lands on the desired enemy with S3, Irene can do that all by herself, since hits on the trash mobs amassed around the boss (or tough enemy you want dead) will also hit the boss, while ignoring half defense for around half of S3's hits. This is why her damage output is so immense and consistent, unlike Ch'en's S3, which needs more micromanaging (such as using AoE damage to clear all mobs around the big enemy first in order to maximize damage).

Irene's S1 is also useful, making her one of the few 6*s that actually have three useful skills instead of a garbage whatever 1st skill and one or two actually useful skills (IE the majority of 6*s). S2's Float has a Weight limit (can only Float enemies with Weight 3 or less), meaning it won't Float heavy enemies. There's no such restriction for S1 and S3. S1 is an auto-activation uppercut that Floats an enemy and then hits them again, ignoring 50% of their DEF guaranteed (since they are Floating). It's her consistent "has to defend against bigger enemies and not just small fry" skill, a bit more niche, but still very useful and when you need it, it delivers.

Now, about Float: The thing with Float is that it's kind of like Bind: Sure, Stun is technically better, but also a lot of enemies you REALLY WANT to crowd control with Stun, are immune to it. There's almost no enemy immune to Float, and this includes bosses. Not even Gopnik is Float-immune. With S1, Irene can interrupt boss attacks (especially if you have more interrupts, like a shifter, since shifting cancels enemy attacks). Floating puts the enemy in the air, which affects some Operators' targeting behavior, but for the most part, putting the enemy in the air is the most unimportant part of Float, it's the fact that it's a consistent control effect that practically no one has resistance against that matters. In the case of handling fodder, if S2 doesn't outright kill them, it may give you a few extra seconds to set up better, especially early map, but again, that's more rare, since S2 will often just outright kill fodder or leave it so low that you don't need to worry about it (pretty useful in Calamity IS2, though, when fodder is tougher!). Supporters' Slow and Irene's Float fill different roles, basically. You have that right, though, you DO want to pair Irene with Specialists to continuously interrupt enemies (Specialists... Like Gladiia S2 or Laurentina? Coincidence? I think not).

Irene's best synergies are, as stated, Shifters and Specialists, including a very special synergy and by far her best: Dorothy S2.

Irene with S1, as soon as an enemy, even a boss, enters the tile in front of her, will Float them for 1 second. During this second, put a Dorothy S2 Bind Mine on the tile the boss is no longer on because they are now Floating, thus, considered an air enemy. The boss lands, triggers the Mine, and is now hit with Bind for 6 seconds if they are the only enemy affected by the mine. In these 6 seconds, if your Irene is, say, S1M1, Irene can land 4 hits and trigger her S1 again, letting you place another mine down there, and so on. This is a true combo and can stall a boss for as long as you have DP and mines to put there. This works best if you DON'T M3 her S1, because at that point, she needs 3 attacks to charge S1 instead of 4, meaning you have to go through mines more often, resulting in a slight increase in damage short term but far less stall time overall. You can basically demolish melee bosses with this and heavily stall and damage ranged bosses (since they keep getting interrupted for the most part, which lets you heal any damage you sustain and also safely charge your burst, such as Mlynar, Eyja, Pozy, etc).

Irene can get a lot done. Her non-S3 factors might not be as flashy, but they are no less effective.

#arknights #irene #yakourinka

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inklessletter · 3 months

Note

what are a few things you really want to see happen in season 5 of ST?

how about 3 things specific to steve,as a bonus?

Hi my beloved anon.

I want to genuinely understand Vecna/Henry's motives. This might sound stupid, but I don't get him. This charcter's story revolves around the fact that he feels too strong to be a limited, petty human and that he doesn't "agree" with time and life/death rules, given the fact that he's insanely powerful. But he gets to achieve that, after is fight with baby Eleven, he's sent to the Upside Down, a place with no time or life/death rules like the world he comes from, and he's turn into a whole new creature, leaving his humanity behind. He gets what he wants. So I would very much like a satisfactory explanation of why he wants to go back to Hawkins, because that's the whole plot of S4 and after how little he thinks of humans I refuse to believe that he just wants revenge against Eleven because that's not only human, that's plain basic. So please Duffers explain ?¿?¿?¿?¿

I want Nancy Wheeler to be full and whole and a l o n e. I would very much like the show to bitch slap everyone who plainly focuses on who is Nancy going to end up with when season after season she's struggling to be strong and independent and competent in everything she does, so I would very much like for her to just be happy with herself and not having people around her that makes her slow her pace.

Would very much love if writers wouldn't be afraid of finishing characters arcs by ending up in death. I'm sorry, it's not that I don't want this to happen because I love the boy with all my heart and he's by far my fav, but for example, if Steve dies his arc is complete. I won't expand the reasons because that will be for another long ass text post, but he was intended to die and they're extending the character, first because Keery's amazing performance in s1, and second because after s2 he became insanely loved and they can't afford to kill such a beloved character (like they didn't kill Hopper in s3) before the shows has a clear end.

I want Karen to do something. Anything. Also, Holly. That'd be precious. I'd love to see her team up with Joyce and bring back the powerful badass character she used to be in s1. Mommy Killer Team (that might include Steve if he's not left to his own devices).

I don't want to bring Eddie Munson back to life. I'm sorry. I know after the Steve death and this Eddie thing I may earn some unfollows but. Let him stay dead. Bring Joseph Quinn back, yes, in flashbacks or stuff, but keep Eddie dead. Don't turn the teary s4 end into a fucking prank. Please, I beg. I don't want to see the fandom all angry (again) because for two years we've been making it better with art and fanfics and headcanons and love to make justice for the Eddie's demise that the show so unashamedly delivered. Please, don't make the fandom look like clowns.

For Steve exclusively (as a bonus) I'd love to a) see him wielding the nailed bat again, b) become Max's legal big brother and c) to have a great ending.

Jesus that was long, I'm sorry.

#inklessletter #ask game #answered #anon

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flufflepuffle296 · 1 year

Text

The Perfect Day

Hello!!! I wrote this prompt post-(ish)-s3 pre-s4 era where there was a lot of salt so this is about 3 years old I wanna say? So that’s why it’s so outdated so HEAVY Alya/Lila/Adrien/Tom and Sabine salt with a lot of Chloe sugar and slight Marigami (best ship) because *this was the vibe at the time* (ayyyy Kendall Jenner) on this page SO if that is not for you fair enough love that for you now SCROLL ON you have had many warnings about how old this is.

Also because this was written before all of s4/a few s3 episodes the lore is very much not present here and outdated so tough luck!

⚠️trigger warning!⚠️

Talking about s*icide here. Please stay safe and do not read this if you think it may trigger you even the slightest bit. Look after yourself! (Also I’m not trying to romanticise sewerslide in any way here (if you want the trauma dump version of how we came up with this you’re welcome to it) but if there is something that shouldn’t be in a post please do let me know and I will remove it but HEAVY TRIGGER WARNING).

SALT FOR (almost) EVERYONE

The Perfect day:

Marinette alarm startled her eyes open at exactly 4am. She scrunched her face up at the prospect of consciousness, but her expression softened slightly when she remembered: today was going to be the perfect day.

The perfect day, to die.

She clambered out of bed, and went downstairs to make her favourite breakfast, with a hot chocolate on the side and mountains of whipped cream, just how she liked it. She had spent the last week trying to convince herself out of this, but it was the only solution.

She was numb.

She was always going to be numb.

Nothing made her feel (that being a full sentence in itself) truly, wholly happy in her being anymore.

She went back upstairs to her balcony and ate her breakfast as the sun rose, squinting at her city. As she finished the last bite, she realised a good swing around Paris was just what she needed, so effortlessly transformed and pulled out her yo-yo, setting out for the Eiffel Tower, the source of so much inspiration for her designs.

Or rather, her *old* designs. She hadn’t the energy or mental strength to do anything she loved recently, nothing sparked much happiness or felt worth it. Her last design was about 2 months ago, but all it did was make her sob at the realisation that she was a failure and a fraud; nothing matched or was cohesive in any way. But in a way, realising her lack of talent when it came to her recent designs was sort of a net positive she concluded.

It meant it stung less when Lila spilled juice all over them, when Alya said they looked better smudged and ruined, or when Adrien delivered his father’s disapproval.

So instead she just watched the rest out the sunrise from her favourite spot, not picking out the different angles in the monument for a ridiculous geometric gown, or whatever her most recent fantasy was.

After another half hour, she sprung back home and got into her favourite Sunday dress, twirling her hair into her cutest hairstyle that the night before she had meticulously studied for hours on Pinterest, that she had always wanted to try. She packed her bag, three letters included, and ran out to catch up with her only real friend at a Francois DuPont.

Alya had left her a long time ago. After all, Lila had “no reason to lie”. She was “perfect”. Marinette was “just jealous” and “refused to cooperate”.

Because after all, it was always Marinette’s fault.

Marinette wished Alya the best in life, but she wasn’t going to waste much more energy on her. She was drained enough as it was.

Chloé was waiting for her, grinning ear-to-ear as she held up her first try at macarons for Marinette to critique. Marinette bit into the surprisingly good attempt at the cookie as they walked up to school together, laughing at Chloe’s sudden inability to swallow a cookie without choking. They walked to the back of the class and sat in their seats, ignoring their classmates.

It’ll all be over tonight anyways.

She spent the lessons talking with Chloé, as it wasn’t like she’d ever need the information after tonight. She encouraged Chloé to reminisce on their favourite times together, such as the day they realised they were different enough to be the same, or the day they realised that they (platonically) loved one another, and were the closest thing each other had to a soulmate.

That was also what Marinette considered a “perfect day”…

…Was Chloé going to be alright tomorrow?

At lunch, the pair met up with Luka and Kagami and went out to a cafe for food and orange juice, before sprinting after André the ice cream man and getting sweetheart ice cream together, Chloé paired with Luka, and Kagami with Marinette (“platonically” of course!). They parted ways once the hour was over, as they had to return to school, where Marinette spent the time daydreaming, recalling childhood memories from before Francois DuPont. This was going to be the last time she would ever remember them, after all.

They were let out of school at their usual time, thankfully no akuma that day, and Marinette, Chloé, Luka, and Kagami briefly chatted outside the gates, before parting ways. Marinette hugged them all tight as she left, handing them her letters and telling them not to open them until midnight AT LEAST.

She returned home, and watched her favourite films, favourite shows, and had her favourite meal for the very last time.

She kissed her parents on the cheeks, which was the most contact she’d had with them in a while, after Lila decided the bakery was her favourite Boulangerie, and she went upstairs to peacefully watch the sunset.

She would never have to deal with Chat Noir again and his flirting sexual harassment, so she decided to enjoy being Ladybug one last time. She transformed and went her usual route, ending up at the Eiffel Tower to finish watching the sun go down, swinging back home whilst it was still just barely light, taking notice of the cool air stinging her cheeks; the first real feeling she’d had in months.

Tikki begged her not to go through with it, but Marinette had made her decision, and renounced Tikki, telling her to find a new Ladybug; her only real plea being to warn them about Chat Noir prior.

Tikki was distraught, but Marinette used her guardianship to send her off and push her away — she needed to be alone for this, she wouldn’t let Tikki under any circumstance.

But Marinette didn’t want everything to be over quite yet, the air was too still, so she turned to her dust covered mannequin, and slowly stitched the zipper onto her old project that she never had the creativity or energy to finish. She tied a figure of 8, and snapped off the thread, taking notice of how it frayed.

Looking at it finally finished, it wasn’t as horrific as she made it out to be in her head a couple months ago, but still, not good enough to convince herself she had any worth.

She looked over at her clock.

10:30

I guess it’s time…

Marinette climbed up to her balcony and stepped over the railing, peering down. She took a deep breath…

And jumped.

She lay in the air, feeling as if she was floating for a second, waiting to to hit the ground. She thought she heard her name, but knew no one was around…

“MARINETTE!”

She felt a clawed hand grab her waist, knocking the air out of her as the two beings shot into the sky, the black figure clutching her tight.

She opened her blue eyes, and stared into Chat Noir’s brown ones.

…Brown?

…This wasn’t Chat Noir?

The black cat landed on a roof, hurriedly demanding to know if she was okay, in a voice that Marinette recognised must be —

“Kagami?!”

The black cat set her down on her balcony and explained that when Tikki was renounced, she was so distraught and furious she renounced Chat Noir of Plagg, revealing Adrien Agreste. The two Kwamis sailed around trying to find someone when they came across Kagami coming back from late night fencing. They quickly told her to read her letter as they were near incomprehensible from stress. Kagami briefly skimmed the letter before immediately snatching the nearest miraculous - the ring - and transforming into the black cat before sprinting across the rooftops as fast as she could, rushing to Marinette’s aid still clutching her letter. She arrived just in time to see her topple over, and saved her just before she hit the ground.

Marinette started sobbing in Kagami’s arms. Kagami sobbed with her a few minutes, promising to never let her go. She eventually picked her up once again and carried her to Le Grand Paris, where she banged on Chloé’s window. Chloé opened it and let the two crying girls in, announcing Luka’s presence as he happened to be in the room teaching Chloé guitar. He rushed to the girls when he saw them collapsed in each other’s arms. Marinette was feeling the first emotions she had felt in months, refusing to leave her saviour’s side, clutching to Kagami. Luka and Chloé listened as Marinette vented how she had been feeling, or rather the fact that she hadn’t been feeling anything, whilst Kagami stroked her hair and wiped her face, kissing her forehead every so often to remind her she was safe.

Chloé had a room prepared and the four of them off school the next day, booking Marinette in for a highly rated therapy appointment. The four friends snuggled in each other’s arms, Marinette in the middle. They fell asleep immediately, crashing from the excitements of the past hour, except for Marinette, who lay awake just a few more moments to make a promise to herself.

Every day, from today, I will make into the *perfect* day.

—————————————————————————

Hello me again!!!! I had a few other endings in case we weren’t feeling this one so just quickly:

Alternate ending 1) She jumps. When midnight comes around her friends open her letters and rush to her place, only to find police and an ambulance declaring her dead, and if you want some more angst, Chloé and Kagami storm into the school the next day scream-crying at their classmates whilst Luka repeatedly whispers “I couldn’t save her” crying in his mum’s arms. (Very depressing)

Alternate ending 2) Marinette realises that she doesn’t want to die. Why should she? She’s just spent today just doing what makes her happy? She should live like this everyday! She has so much to live for! Sure therapy is needed and some communication too, but she can do it. (Yayyy happyyy)

This was for the most part written when I was around 14/15 so if the sentence structure is a bit shit I’m gonna blame it on that (and not my lack of progress in writing in the past 3 years!)

#Alya salt #Lila Salt #Adrien salt #Marigami #marinette deserves better #mlb salt #Chloe sugar #cat noir salt #mlb salt fic #chat noir salt #tom and sabine salt #miraculous #miraculous ladybug #mlb #miraculoustalesofladybugandcatnoir #kagaminette #chloe bourgeois #marinette dupain cheng #kagami tsurugi

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