#kettle meddle

[astrangebird]

"I haven't seen you in the Dreaming in some time." Hob startles at the sound of his voice, hunched over the counter scrubbing at what must be an immaculate surface.

"Oh, do come in," he chuckles, turning to face him, "Never have been fond of doors have you?"

He looks exhausted, bruise purple shadows under his eyes that still crinkle with his warm smile. "At this hour I doubt you would have answered for me."

"I always answer for you." His face stretches into a yawn that cracks his jaw as he returns to the counter to toss his sponge into the sink. "Can I make you some tea?"

"It's quite late." Dream says, sighs really. This isn't the first time that he's come to Hob's home at an unreasonable hour to find him cleaning or writing or some other mundane task that could wait until morning. This isn't the first cup he's been offered like tithing. Probably won't be the last either.

"Hasn't stopped you yet."

Dream catches his wrist as he reaches for his kettle. "It's quite late, Hob."

For a moment Hob squares his jaw as if Dream's word wasn't final. Though, he knows that Dream would only argue and not enforce. "Right, right. It is."

Dream lets go of his wrist and lingers as if too ensure that Hob will follow through and not pick up his sponge again. "Why don't you go to bed."

He knows that's technically meant to be a question, but here it's really a demand. Hob hasn't entered the Dreaming for more than a few fleeting moments in days, his sleep apparently fitful and restless. He doesn't make a habit to meddle in Hob's dreams, he figures it could make their relationship strained if Hob grew to expect him there, if his presence would be unwelcome. But he took note that Hob has been absent and that his brief dips have been unpleasant.

"I suppose I could try again." Hob concedes. Everything about him screams that he's exhausted and yet he pushes against the urge to sleep.

"Would you like me to help?" Dream offers. Again, he rarely offers these things. But many exceptions get made for Hob Gadling.

Hob sighs, like it's a chore to be looked after. "You'll make an old man think he's getting special treatment." He still manages to smile like a part in the clouds and even still, even with the heavy bags under his eyes it still warms him.

"You've always been getting special treatment." Dream smiles back at him. He always smiles back. It's easy here in this cluttered little home.

"You gonna tuck me in and everything?" Hob bumps his shoulder with a wink as he walks past towards his bedroom.

Dream follows him, watching his uneasy sway, "I could. Would it help?"

"It would just to make you stop worrying about me."

Before he's even crossed the threshold to his room he's wrangling his belt from his pants, balling it up to toss at his closet before awkwardly bending and tripping to get out of his pants. Dream has always found the ritual of bedtime an interesting thing, like it says something about the person whether or not they take their pants off before their shirts.

"I'll be right out." Hob murmurs, tossing his shirt in the vicinity of his hamper and stumbling into the bathroom.

Dream takes a moment to reacquaint himself with Hob's room. He swears his bed was against the other wall the last time he was here. He wonders if he moves his furniture often to force change into his long lived life. He turns the bed down and waits. He pretends that something terribly fond doesn't bubble in his stomach when Hob smiles softly at him.

"Aren't you sweet." Another non-question trailed across the back of Dream's hand as he walks past. His hands are always so warm.

Dream has grown to appreciate the little things about humans, Hob specifically he supposes. He makes the same groan every time his back hits the bed, wiggles into his blankets the same way, and now, looks over to him with the same sleepy expression. So Dream dutifully drapes the blanket over him, tucking it under his sides like a doting mother.

"You're becoming a hassle, Hob Gadling. I have to come all this way into the Waking world just for you." Dream chides with not a single ounce of malice.

"Forgive me oh merciful Lord Morpheus." He barely says around a yawn.

Lazily, Hob reaches out for him, clutching at his wrist with a gentle tug. Dream follows and sits on the edge of the bed. "I appreciate you." He mumbles, thumbing at the thin skin of Dream's wrist.

Dream's never quite sure how to respond to things like that, so he smiles and turns his hand in Hob's. "This is my purpose."

"And I appreciate you taking time from your purpose to tend to me alone." Hob grips his hand, taking to thumb the back of Dream's fingers. "I have my suspicions that you could deal with little ol' me from a distance."

"I could." Dream admits. "But I would rather come to see you."

"Now you're just being sweet on me." Oh the eyes, the crinkled eye smile.

"Perhaps."

Hob pulls on his hand, turns it over to press his knuckles to his lips like a sigh. "Gone soft on me."

Dream smiles, something terribly fond in his stomach. He wonders if he's as obvious now as he has been known to be. He wonders if Hob can feel the pitter-patter of his pulse beneath his fingertips. "Are you ready for bed?"

"If I'll see you there." Hob can hardly keep his eyes open, but they still search for him as his grip grows weaker.

"I'm always there."

#dreamling #dream x hob #dream of the endless #hob gadling #bird writes #there it took me so long but I did it #edited to add a readmore

[punishme85]

This is a NSFW fic, MINOR do not interact. 18+ content.

Wow (Lucifer x fReader)

You sigh as you slowly make your way away from Lucifer's study, your mind trying to come up with a solution. Lucifer had been working himself so hard lately, most nights he forgets to come down for supper. Normally you wouldn't mind bringing it to him but over the last two weeks he has been so stressed that you've begun worrying about him more and more. Diavolo and Barbatos have texted you updates on how he was doing when he was with them and asked you to keep an eye on him. You didn't want to meddle but you could see the exhaustion growing with each day. You've spoken to the brothers about it, making sure that they not only have been on their best behavior but they also haven't been too loud. Of course a few incidents had come up where Lucifer had to intervene but for the most part, the house was in order. 

You step into the kitchen to find Beel in the fridge. You turn to the clock and realized it was actually almost 2 am by this time and sighed. Beel turned around hearing the sigh that escapes your lips and frowned. "Are you hungry too MC?" He asked while holding all the leftovers in his hands before setting them down on the island. "I'm going to make sandwiches, would you like me to make you one?" He asked while looking hopeful, a gentle smile on his face. 

"No thank you, Beel. I think I'll make a tea for Lucifer before bed. Perhaps I can convince him to get some sleep as well tonight." You open the cupboard, search for the tea you know is his favorite. Beel watched you for a moment before going back to make sandwiches. 

"Even when we were in the Celestial Realm, Lucifer was always busy. He still had to deal with us and our antics. Don't worry, MC! I know you'll figure out how to make him relax." Beel explained before reaching into the cupboard and pulling a tin from the back of the top shelf and handing it to you. "Make him the hellfire mint and devious rose tea. It's got a calming effect and helps reduce stress and anxiety." 

You're shocked by the suggestion and thank him for the help. You open the tin to find a large variety of different teas inside, each labeled neatly and comes with a list of instructions in Beel's handwriting. You question him about it only to find out he created these blends to maximize effective medicinal properties. For such a big guy, who knew he would excel at this kind of thing. "How did you learn about this, Beel?" You ask, while quickly adding the amount specified to the tea infuser. 

"In the Celestial Realm, my favorite hobby was gardening. After the fall, we started going to RAD and they offered a botany course. I took it and enjoyed it so much that I eventually got into medicinal botany." He explained before taking a bite of his sandwich and tucking the tin back up where it had been in the cupboard. "I'm going to take these sandwiches back to bed. I hope that tea helps Lucifer." He said with a smile as he picked up his plate piled high with sandwiches and left. You stand there shocked for a moment before giving your head a shake and turning back to the kettle, waiting for it to boil. 

The kitchen door opened up again, as Asmo slipped into the room. "Oh darling! What are you doing awake?" He sang out to you as he wrapped his arms around you, hugging you tightly for a moment. 

"Good evening Asmo, I'm just making Lucifer tea before I go to bed. I really wish he would relax, he needs it. Did you just get home? How was your event?" You ask, hearing the kettle finally whistle, you turn it off and quickly assemble a few snacks onto a plate. 

Asmo reached into the freezer, pulling out a face mask before turning to the door. "I'll tell you all about it tomorrow during our spa date. You know the best way to relax is after an orgasm." He sang before sending you a wink. 

"Ha yeah right!" You say sarcastically, a blush creeping over your cheeks at the mental images invading your mind at the suggestion. 

"I'm serious! Like each of us, Lucifer adores you. He just doesn't act on it because he thinks he's too busy. Just think about it, darling!" He said before leaving the room and leaving you staring after him. 'Lucifer couldn't possibly... could he?' You think as you load the serving tray and slowly make your way back to the study. You contemplated Asmo's words the entire walk back to Lucifer. 

As you stepped into the study once again, Lucifer didn't even look up as he was still filling out paperwork. He had grown accustomed to your coming and going, he always knew it was you and he felt more at ease when you were near him. You set the tray down on the coffee table and poured the hot water into the teacups you had previously set up. The scent of the special tea Beel provided caught his attention and he looked towards you as you made your way to him. "I see you've found Beels medicinal teabox. Have you been worried about me?" His arrogant voice cutting through the silence in the room as he took in your form. 

"He showed me what I was looking for and of course I've been worried about you. You've been held up in this room for days apart from going to school and meetings with Diavolo." You explain before stopping right in front of him, your eyes finally meeting his. He reached out and pulled your closer, resting his head against your stomach before breathing in your scent. A sigh of exhaustion escaped him and he wrapped his arms around you tightly, much to your shock. It took a moment before your hands fly into action. One hand burying itself into his luscious soft hair while the other reaches down to massage his tense shoulder. "Are you alright, Lucifer?" You ask quietly, your voice barely a whisper but he heard it. 

"Of course. I'm completely fine, just a little tired of doing paperwork." He replied before pulling away a little, looking up to you with a smirk on his face. His tired eyes betraying his declaration and you know he hasn't slept longer than a couple hours each night. Now it's your turn to sigh as you slowly back up towards the coffee table. He's far too proud sometimes but perhaps he will relax with his tea. You beckon him to join you at the couch as you fix your tea.  He slowly stands before making his way to you, sitting next to you on the couch before picking up his tea. You both relax into a comfortable conversation while you both drink your tea and nibble on the snacks you brought. After a few minutes he relaxes further and for the first time in days, his demeanor shifts. "Thank you for keeping my brothers in line for the last couple weeks. They really seem to listen to you, don't they?" He asked, his eyes swirling with more crimson than usual and you find yourself mesmerized for a moment before responding. Asmo's suggestion coursing through your mind, making your blush grow. "Your presence alone makes me feel like I don't have to be completely on guard all the time." 

"You're very welcome. You've been overly stressed lately, it's the least I could do to try to alleviate some of the stress." You finally answer, the way he is slumped against the back of the couch makes your blush deepen. Mustering up all of your courage you sit up and place your teacup down on the coffee table before turning to him. "You know, I heard there's one more way to make someone more relaxed." You say in a small voice, your heart pounding within your chest as you fight to keep your breathing under control. His eyes snap to yours as he takes in your appearance and you feel your face heat further under his intense scrutiny. 

"Is that so? Please elaborate. " His deep velvety voice washes over you causing goosebumps to erupt all over your body. His eyes growing more crimson as you watch him carefully. He's sinfully handsome any other day but you'd never seen just how crimson his eyes could become. You lick your lips as you bolster your new found courage. He tracks the movement with his crimson eyes before setting his own teacup aside. 

"Apparently if you have an orgasm, you'll be able to relax fully." You barely manage to get the words out and only once you broke the eye contact. Your face was burning from embarrassment and nervousness but your body felt like it was electrically charged. You feel movement beside you on the couch before feeling his black gloved hand cup your chin. He gently turned your head to lock into your eyes but you closed them afraid of rejection, afraid that he might be repulsed. You're just a human, he is Lucifer, the avatar of pride himself and the right hand man for the future king of the Devildom. Of course he wouldn't want you, right? 

"I'm surprised that you're playing coy after such an offer. You were offering, weren't you?" You could hear the smug smirk as he said the words. Steeling yourself, you opened your eyes to find him much closer to you than before. Though he had his signature smirk on his face it was his eyes that drew your attention. "Ah, there you are. Though you're impossibly adorable when you're shy,  I prefer your eyes on me, rather than anywhere else. Now tell me, love, are you absolutely sure you want to go further?" He asked softly to you as he watched you like a hawk, looking for any hesitation or resistance. As soon as the words left his mouth you knew that this was what you wanted without a doubt. You eagerly nodded while your blush glowed on, you no longer could keep your composure and your breathing became more erratic. "As you wish, my love." He released your chin and stood, holding his hand out for you to grasp before leading you out of the study. He quietly locked it up before ushering you down the hall to his bedroom.

Once pulled quickly inside he let go of your hand. This wasn't the first time you'd been in his room but for some reason you were looking around as if it was. So preoccupied in your seeking that you almost jumped out of your skin when you heard the lock latch on his door and him whisper an incantation. You turn to look at the beautiful demon before you but barely had a moment before he pulled you into his arm and claimed your mouth in a searing kiss. His lips working expertly against yours as he devoured you, making you arch against his body, your hands finding their way around his neck and into his hair. His hands slid down from your waist, over the curve of your bottom before he grabbed both cheeks and lifted you up, bringing you closer to his natural height. You wrap your legs around his waist as he walks you both towards his bed, neither breaking the kiss in the process. In the back of your mind you expect him to drop you onto the bed but he surprises you by crawling onto the bed slowly and gently laying you down. His hands returning to your waist as he continues kissing you senseless. 

You hated to but you broke the kiss in order to suck in much needed air, looking up at him briefly before he dipped down to nip and suck his way down your neck to your collarbone. A moan escaped you when you felt his teeth lightly sink into your skin, not hard enough to break skin but enough to heighten the pleasure pooling deep down inside you. His hands seeking the hem of your t-shirt before slowly skimming it up over your stomach, over your chest, revealing more and more of your skin to his crimson gaze. "I always wondered how far down your blush would go. Now I always want to witness it." He commented briefly before sucking your nipple into his mouth, earning him a sharp gasp turned moan from your lips. You arch up against his mouth, wanting him to take it all, your body craving him like you've never experienced before. He released your nipple briefly to gaze up at you. Feeling his eyes on you, you met his gaze and bit your lip, wanting him to continue what he had started. You watch him slip his gloved finger between his teeth before he slowly slid his hand out of the glove. Your breathing hitched, your body trembling with anticipation as you watch him removing his gloves. Why was this one act seemingly so exotic when it came to the man? 

"Lucifer!" You whisper seconds before he sucks the other nipple into his mouth, his eyes still watching your reactions. Your head drops back down as you give into the feel of his lips on you, each suckle shooting tingles down south. "Lucifer, I need…" Your voice disappears when you feel his hands on the inside of your thigh, slowly sliding up closer to where you really want to feel him. His long digits slipping into the hem of your shorts, his own breathing hitching when he realizes your completely bare under them. Your juices flowing freely over his fingers as he finds your core wet and aching for him. He releases your nipple before claiming your mouth again while you feel him slowly sink one digit into you. He rests his forehead against yours while looking into your eyes, his breath fanning your face while he slowly pumps his finger within you. "Lucifer, more… I need more." You beg breathlessly, his pupils dilating further with each word. 

"So pretty when you beg, love. If I wasn't in a hurry to discover the sweet sounds you make when you fall apart for me, I would be wanting to hear it more. Lift up for me." He demanded as he sat back, withdrawing his finger completely before sliding your shorts down your thighs. Once they were completely off he commanded you to spread your legs further apart. You had lost your original shyness and just listened to what he told you, spreading them as far as was comfortable for you. His eyes feasting on every inch exposed to him, a smirk playing on his lips as he watched you squirm for a moment before dipping his head down towards your heat. You begin to pant the closer he gets to your folds, your eyes focused on him as he settles between your legs. He looked up towards you as he slowly snaked his tongue out, his tongue gliding over your glistening folds causing you to groan at the sensation. He moaned his pleasure as your ambrosia exploded on his tongue, his hands grasping your hips tightly as he pulled you closer while he devoured your core. 

"Lucifer!" You cried out, feeling his tongue delve deep inside you, his nose bumping against your clit with each flick of his tongue. Your one hand grasped the sheet while the other tangled in his hair while your hips rocked against his face. Your orgasm building faster than you ever thought was possible as he pulled his tongue out and sucked on your clit. Lucifer slowly slid his fingers back inside you just as the first flutter began and as your cries raised in pitch he moaned around your bundle of nerves, the vibrations pushing you over the edge. He removed his mouth but kept pumping his fingers inside you while your orgasm washed over you. The way you sounded when you cried his name had him damn near delirious with need while his prideful smirk returned to his lips. As your orgasm began subsiding he slipped his fingers from you and told you to suck them clean, which you did without hesitation. Your blissed out eyes finally focused on him only after he pulled his cleaned fingers from your mouth. You watch him begin unbuttoning the last couple buttons on his shirt revealing creamy alabaster skin. Your eyes immediately explore every inch of tightly packed muscles from his shoulders to his pecs, down his defined abs to the deep V of his hips. Your eyes drop lower to where he's unzipping his slacks, finally noticing the massive bulge that was threatening to tear through the constricting fabric. You lick your lips subconsciously as you think of what you would like to do to this beautiful man.

"Love, if you keep looking at me like that, I may not be able to keep in control of myself. I'm much larger than you have ever had and contrary to popular belief, it would not thrill me to hurt you." He whispered to you, your eyes finally meeting his before he pushed both his slacks and underwear down. When your eyes drop back down, you gasp in shock. He wasn't lying when he said he was massive. His cock stood proud before him almost a foot from his body, the flared head, glistening with his excitement. You sat up and crawled forward, needing a closer look at the masterpiece before you. You shamelessly reach out and wrap your hand around the shaft, barely able to touch your fingers tip to tip..

"You're so big Lucifer!" You praise him as you slowly stroke him, his hands cupping your face as he kisses you passionately. The taste of your own juices on his tongue makes your body clench once again. You increase the pace of your hand as he devours you before finally pulling back with a quiet moan, his body quivering as you continue stroking him. You bend to try to taste him but he stops you before you get close enough, he removes your hands from his body. 

"As much as I would love to see my cock shoved down your throat, I would rather be buried deep inside you. Have you been with a demon before?" He asked as he laid you back against the bed, placing pillows beneath your hips once you were where he wanted you. You shake your head at his question, though you may have fooled around with a couple brothers, you never made it this far and now that you're here with Lucifer, you're glad he's your first. He smiled before kissing you deeply once more. "Do you trust me?" Again you nod up at him, his cock now nestled up against your folds, his hips slowly rocking back and forth, coating the underside of his shaft. "When I start, I want you to keep your eyes locked on mine. I can help dull the discomfort until your body adjusts. Just remember to relax and we will take our time." He explained and you agreed that you would at the very least try to follow his instructions. 

He kissed you deeply while gently rubbing your clit, you moan in the kiss as you feel the tip of his cock nudge your entrance. Lucifer breaks the kiss and looks into your eyes as he slowly begins rocking his hips. After a couple moments you feel your tightness loosen enough for him to begin sinking inside of you, working his cock inside you an inch at a time. You close your eyes against the pressure you feel, you feel as though you're being torn in two until his words echoed in your mind. You open your eyes to look at him while relaxing as best as you can. As you stare into his beautiful eyes, you feel the pressure dull and in its place is a building pleasure, unlike you've ever experienced before. He feels the shift in you as he reaches the halfway point, your hands grasp his hips and you try pulling him closer. A soft chuckle escapes him before he finally bottoms out inside you. "Move, please… I need more." You moan out for him as you dig your nails into his hip while drawing the other up to cup his face. His eyes widened slightly before you feel his hips begin to withdraw. 

True to his word, he takes his time thrusting slowly until he feels no more discomfort in you. He watches your every reaction to every thrust, every swirl of his hips, every angle he adjusts to and before long you cry out as he pushes you over the edge. His thrusts speed up as his own need grows within him. He could have finished the moment he was fully sheathed within you, but he wanted more. You focus on him as your body trembles and your mouth goes dry as the sight of this magnificent man. His brow furrowed in concentration while his eyes are closed, his body slightly trembling, his muscles flexing with each movement, each thrust. What had your attention the most was the sight of him above you in his demon form. His wings outstretched and quivering behind him as his thrusts grew erratic and sloppy. You reach your hand up, grasping a smooth horn in your hand, his eyes shooting open and staring at you with such vulnerability. 'Lucifer…" Your voice cuts off as another orgasm suddenly crashes over you, you drop your hand from his horn, your nails digging into his shoulder,  pushing him over as well. With your name on his lips, he thrusts into you a few more times before you feel the heat from him filling you with his seed. He collapses down onto his forearms to avoid crushing you, panting and trembling as his cock continues to twitch inside you. "I… you… wow." You manage as your eyes try to refocus on the man resting against you. His shoulders begin to shake and for a moment you wonder what is happening until you hear it, a deep rich laughter surrounding you. He lifts his head and you're momentarily shocked at the huge bright white smile as he begins laughing harder.

"Did you just 'wow' me? Wow? Oh, my love, that was only the beginning. Neither of us will be getting much rest tonight. I'll show you what really is… wow." He replied once his laughter died down. His eyes refocused on you as you felt what you hadn't realized before but was so obvious. He was still as hard as ever and he was still completely inside you, his crimson eyes sparkling as he watched the realization dawn on your pretty face. "I do believe you were right. I feel far more relaxed after an orgasm. Let's see what happens after a few more." He growled before he began thrusting once again.

***

You were late for your spa date with Asmo the next afternoon. You were supposed to meet him in his room 30 minutes prior and you knew he would be pouty by the amount of calls and texts you had missed while Lucifer helped you shower. You slowly made your way down the hall to his room on weak wobbly legs. You turned the knob and walked in, closing the door behind you and leaning on it for support. Asmo walked in from his bathroom and stopped, staring at you disheveled look. "What in the devildom happened to you?! Were you attacked?" He screeched while running up to you. Lifting you up and carrying you over to his bed to help you sit down before you fell down. 

"What? Attacked? Oh, no I wasn't attacked or anything. I actually took your advice last night and now I can't freaking walk!" You level him with a glare and it takes a minute for him to remember what advice you were referring to. He burst out into a fit of giggles before shaking his head and taking in your appearance once more.

"Ok, I see it now. Dark circles, hickeys, swollen lips, you definitely had fun last night but darling, you should have slept!" Asmo replied teasingly as he wrapped you in his arms. "Don't worry, we will have you feeling and looking better in no time. I'll go pour us a bath and pull out all the products we will need." He rushed off towards the bathroom as you laid back against his soft bed. Your eyes grew heavy as you feel sleep slowly drawing you in, you curled up on your side, a smile on your face. This is how Asmo found you 15 minutes later and that's where he left you while he went back to bath alone. 

#obey me #obey me lucifer #lucifer x reader #18+ content #smut #obey me nightbringer #obey me fanfic

[parad-ice-lostandfound]

Prompt: “You’re my Christmas angel.” - “Wow that was…intense.” - “Just take the compliment.”

Pairing: Jamil Viper x GN!Reader

Genre: Fluff

TW: The characters are aged up, reader is not yuu/prefect

AN: I love, love, love Jamil, but istg this prompt had me tearing my hair from my scalp solely because my first draft for it got deleted (thank you tumblr for that absolute fuckery). Kinda unhappy with the ending, but it is what it is. Enjoy ^^

Jamil stood in silence, leaning against the doorway to the grand kitchens of the al-Asim estate.

There you were, waiting for water to boil on one of the stoves. You were still in your finery from the grand party that had gotten over only a few hours ago, yet clearly at home and full of energy in the humongous and currently empty kitchen. Moving to the rhythm of your own soft humming, you were completely unaware of his presence, with the faintest of smiles on your face.

Usually, Jamil would dread the month-long festivities the al-Asims would throw during the winter, but he found that he didn't mind them much anymore. Not when he could spend the months before planning every little aspect of it by your side. Seeing you dressed up in clothes of fine silk, a satisfied smile on your face as you made sure everything was going perfectly made it all bearable.

Ever since you had arrived at the al-Asim estate as a servant to Lady Nahiya, the woman selected to be Kalim's wife, you had never failed to surprise him. At first, having learned of your background, he had believed you would try to meddle in his affairs on account of essentially being the right hand of the lady he now had to serve as well. But you did not.

As servants and to some extent, retainers of the family heads, you and Jamil had to work together often. While he was courteous to you, he was also a bit distant at first, preferring to keep things professional between the two of you as much as he could. But you were persistent in your approach, gradually making him warm up to and trust you with your careful and diligent work. The two of you grew closer, close enough for Jamil to share a few of his worries and burdens with you.

A tentative friendship began to bloom, one cherished by both of you.

You recognized his capabilities, yet also knew when to take over certain situations. Your gentle way of caring, not only for the lady you served but also for every person you were acquainted with had earned you the admiration of many in the estate, himself included. Although his feelings were not merely of admiration.

Lost in his thoughts, he failed to notice you finally noticing him. Your cheeks darkened with the embarrassment of being found out, yet you forced out a chuckle, "Jamil, isn't it a bit too late to be up and about?"

Jamil's eyes widened at having been found staring, but he quickly composed himself, giving you a soft smile. "I could say the same about you," he hummed, walking closer to you. You shrugged, turning your attention back to the kettle on the stove. "I couldn't sleep."

"Hm?" Jamil raised his eyebrows.

"So, I decided to make myself some tea," You smiled at him, gesturing to him to take a seat on one of the stools nearby. "Do you want some as well?"

"I wouldn't mind some," he said, leaning against the counter to get a better look at you. The next few minutes were spent talking to each other about everything that had happened that night during the party, and everything that was still left to do.

Once the tea was ready, you handed his teacup to him. Sitting next to him, you blew on your tea to cool it down a little. For a few minutes, there was only silence as you two sipped the hot beverage. Comfortable, companionable silence.

"You should go get some rest," Jamil spoke, placing his empty teacup on the countertop, his low and dulcet voice almost lulling you into saying yes. But you resisted the siren call of his voice, raising an eyebrow at him.

"What about you?"

"I'll clean up here," he smiled at your concern, "then look over the arrangements for tomorrow and then... we'll see."

You bristled at his words, narrowing your eyes at him. "What do you mean 'We'll see'? You won't get any sleep if you do all that. Do you know how many people have told me that they've seen you awake at ungodly hours, walking through the halls like a ghost?" You huffed, lightly hitting him on the shoulder. Jamil gave you an amused look, chuckling.

"I am just doing my job."

"Yeah, well, you don't need to do all of that, at least tonight. I already double-checked everything for tomorrow, and the day after tomorrow."

Jamil narrowed his eyes at you playfully. "Have you now?"

"I have."

A smirk played on his lips as he began quizzing you on everything that was supposed to be done and checked.

Gradually, that smirk dropped as surprise began filtering into his expression.

Jamil stood up from his seat, making you startle slightly. He gripped your shoulders and pulled you close, making your face darken due to your proximity.

"When... did you have time to check all that?" He asked, words slipping through in an awed whisper.

You looked away, feeling a bit bashful. "I told you, I couldn't sleep. So I decided to do something useful with my time, instead of trying and failing to fall asleep."

Charcoal grey eyes were focused on you intently, watching you as if studying a rare specimen. A shiver ran down your spine at being scrutinized so thoroughly, yet you couldn't bring yourself to look away from him.

"You... you are a godsend, (Name). You are an angel. A christmas angel."

The mixture of relief and gratitude you could make out in his voice had your cheeks warming even more. "Well... that's intense..." you mumbled, slapping a hand over your mouth as you realized you had let your thoughts slip through.

Jamil's laughter echoed through the empty kitchen as his head came to rest on your shoulder. His hands dropped from tightly gripping your shoulder to loosely holding onto your waist to support his laughing form. "Just... take the compliment, idiot."

Back to Masterlist...

#ice writes #twisted wonderland #twst #twst jamil #jamil viper #jamil twisted wonderland #jamil viper x reader #jamil x reader #jamil #gn!reader #merry twstmas event #400 follower event #well technically now we're at 506 to be exact #lol

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it is the binge anon again teehee just sent in the last ask about yk jay opening up about all the shit zayne did to him to dennis i read through this one drabble about how he reveals off everything to his family post getting out of the hospital, if it's not too much trouble, can we have a follow up to that? like how his parents reacted during the info drop, how jay handled it, so on ughhh i just love how you humanize him so well. you're a lovely writer

I actually cut this part from that chapter. Luckily I hoard cut out stuff, and I freshened it up a little for you <3

Follow up to Everything.

-

Relive

“I’ll tell you what happened.”

And so he did.

That rotten news article stirring up chaos and snitching on his flaying only started at the last pages of his story. He settled back against the cushions, bracing himself for a long and difficult tale to tell. Not really how he imagined his day would go… But perhaps it was better to get it out. Get it over with.

He took a deep breath. “This started two years ago. That time I was hospitalised.” That time where he only told them about the interrupted preparations for a robbery and about a pissed Zayne beating the shit out of him for meddling. At the time, he could barely make sense of what had happened. Now that he had all the pieces, it was easier to tell. Not to mention that he’d processes it a bit more.

“Zayne was tasked with making sure I wouldn't run off to the police. Well, he... he didn’t do just that," he said with a wry smile. And that was the explosive start to it all, with Zayne in the middle of the blast.

He avoided going into too much detail at first and the lengthy introduction helped, to get his story straight, to get his emotions ready for… for the later gritty details.

Another thing he desperately avoided was eye contact. As he spoke, his gaze lingered just over his father’s shoulder, on his mother’s earring, and he tilted his head towards Laura sitting next to him to include her in the group, but his gaze merely brushed over her cheekbone to make it feel like he was looking at her, and immediately shot towards the window every time he did.

It was hard. It was so damn hard telling all this. But now that he’d gotten started, there was no stopping. Everything had to get out, everything that was bottled up, all the tears, his shame, everything.

They all listened without interrupting him, letting him stutter, hiccup, and hesitate as much as he needed.

And his hesitation and stuttering only increased when he had to tell how Zayne invaded his life again two years later. How he’d ambushed him, threatened him, and was waiting for him several times a week. That first beating where every bit of cropped up anger was punched out, without any measure of control or holding back.

“He pretended otherwise, putting responsible on me to hide everything, but he quickly realised he had to tone down if this was to be a regular thing. And so... that’s... that’s when he went for a more... controlled way of... of inflicting pain. Instead of off the rails beatings… So every couple of days, he’d drop by and... erm, well, it was basically just—“ His breathing grew ever more shallow with each word. He heaved softly, swallowed hard past the growing lump in his throat. “Just torture,” he whispered, “It was just—”

He couldn't get the word out again. It stuck in his throat, firmly nestled behind that lump of tears. His breathing grew more forced, heaving in soft gasps, shallow at first, going deeper and deeper to hide the sobs, until hyperventilation kicked in and—

A shuddering breath and his father suddenly stood up.

Jay flinched, the sudden movement snapping his attention back. Back from a dark place, deep in the recesses of his mind, to the present, to his living room, to his family. To a safe place. His exhale finally released.

“I’ll put the kettle on,” his father grunted softly.

Jay gave a single nod and swallowed hard. They were all in need of a little break.

His eyes followed his dad, gaze on his back as he retreated to the kitchen. His lips started to tremble as he looked his mum in the eyes, seeing the tears pool. And he lost control over the muscles in his face as he felt Laura lean into him.

His face scrunched up. He brought up a fist, hiding his lips. His jaw clenched so hard as he tried to contain his sobs he could hear his teeth gnash over each other. Fingers tightened into the fabric of his pajama pants. But everything exploded in a single sob. He rested his wrist against his forehead, hiding his face.

“Sorry,” he managed, voice fragile, brushing away tears.

“Don’t.”

He took his glasses off, letting his emotions spill over his cheeks.

His breathing calmed but his thoughts were still racing. How was he going to breach this subject. How was he going to tell… that he was pinned down and— He meant to go for ‘carved up’, but that was a bit too strong of a word. It was true, it was the exact word that described what happened but, as a writer and now storyteller, he had to consider his audience here. He didn’t want to downplay, he was past that now, but god, he had to thread carefully, not wanting to make things any worse either.

His father silently handed out cups of tea. Jay mouthed a thanks.

Then he started again, voice now clear and calm.

“Zayne's favourite was his knife.” And he told them about the cuts and scars covering his body. He didn’t tell about Zayne’s experiments or creative tortures; mostly just hovered in-between beatings and knifeplay. Just the bare minimum to explain his wounds.

“So these…” Laura started, touching over his wrist to draw attention to the scars on his forearm.

Jay fought the urge to cover them up. “Yes,” he merely said, avoiding how some of those were self-inflicted. The details didn’t matter; as far as he was concerned, Zayne was the cause of those, regardless of who brandished the knife at the time.

He felt uncomfortable, all eyes now focused on his scars. With all his hiding the last couple of months, sitting in just a t-shirt made him feel almost naked, especially with the scars on display. He quickly moved on.

By the time he reached the shock of Emery being involved, his head started to pound, the tension in his body, the strain behind his eyes reaching its toll with the pain heavily settling on his brow.

Mercifully, he could leave the hardest bit behind now that he explained the cause of his injuries. But Emery proved to be an even worse enemy than Zayne could ever be. And Zayne grew more and more tense and unpredictable. Teetering from more cruelty to actually saving his life.

How after that, everything spiralled out of control. To the point where he couldn’t handle things alone anymore and called in Dennis. How they’d worked together, pressured Zayne, and how that ended in abduction.

He recounted that night, the night in the warehouse, how he and Zayne had tried to help each other out, having to hold on and depend on each other to delay Emery’s plans until help would arrive.

“And… and this is…” his mother stuttered, fiddling with the newspaper in her lap, voice barely more than a whisper.

“Yes. That’s… that’s what happened...” He paused, shifting a little against his pile of pillows, careful not to put pressure on his back. He repeated what he’d just told Laura, about Emery trying to force him to tell where Dennis was. Taking extreme measures. With this, he didn’t spare much detail; better that they hear it from him, better that he prepared them for what they were going to hear in court.

Not to mention, to prepare himself. Get it out, because he was going to have to tell this again. Repeat the story in front of an audience. No… not repeat. Relive. As soon as he stuttered out the first words, the fresh memories gripped his body, seeped into the healing wounds, reminding him of the pain.

“It was… it was worse than anything Zayne’d ever done… I thought I was going to die, I was sure I was going to die…” Maybe he even wanted to in a brief moment when the pain was too much, but he swallowed the despair he felt at that time. “I couldn’t do anything. Couldn’t even raise the gun Emery forced into my hand… It hurt. It hurt like hell. It was hell. I—”

He stopped for a second, the sound of the whip echoing in his mind, the stabbing in his throat as each scream tore through his windpipe like that goddamn whip tore through his back, flaying his throat from the inside, each scream just hurting and— He swallowed hard. There was no stab of pain anymore, no sting, no bite.

It was healing. He was healing.

He looked up, a soft smile on his lips, finally looking them all in the eyes, reassuring them.

“But it’s healing,” he finally said, echoing his thoughts. “I got through. I got out. And I’m still here with you.”

-

Tag list: @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @burtlederp @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @hurtmebeautifully @rougenoirofthepurpleterror @susiequaz12 @whump-me-all-night-long @rippedjeansandfadeddreams @im-just-here-for-the-whump @restrainthenmaime @freefallingup13 @whatwasmyprevioususername @myfriendcallsmeasickwoman19 @firewheeesky @redstainedsocks @hold-back-on-the-comfort @whumpawink @break-so-beautifully @approach-me-and-ill-cry @painsandconfusion @afabulousmrtake @wormwriting @soopytime @whumpedydump @pickleking8 @itsmyworld98 @whumpifi @painless-and-colourful

#whump #aftermath of whump #h/c #home is where the hurt is #hiwthi #hiwthi drabbles #Thanks for the ask <3 As for the other I have a small follow up on that too #also hi yes other ask for dennis whump I see you I like you #*sideglances at finishyourfuckingwipsfebruary* #*nervous laugh* #my writing

[lead-to-code]

text version below (click on "keep reading")

Bitter and Warm by Kara

Awake, sunbeams Like a stream Blinders fail Walk with a sail Fill lifeboat with water Start a fire, melt the tartar Prepare your mug Face ahead Pull the rug Over your head I am the kettle With whistled woes My tears meddle Boiling over, to missing yours

#poetry #spilled ink #writeblr #original poem #poets on tumblr #LTC poem

[fruit-salad-ship]

for those who do not wish to dive into the fallout AU for the best bit.

i think this is it, at least for me. less of a huge read, but the one section if you HAD to know, is worth it.

Plum’s notions about this woman she’s sat beside are proven correct when she’s confronted with a truth, probably the first honest truth Peach has said to her.
“Everyones done things they’re not proud of, Grey, myself, even you.” The big woman points the finger right back at Plum, not skipping a beat, not angry, just factual, she saw through her from the start, it wasn’t hard, continuing. “Are you so innocent? To have three factions come together to hunt you down? What must you have done to cause enemies to put aside such massive differences to end just one life?” Plum cannot answer that, cant find the words in time to defend herself. “The truth is everyone on this farm is a monster in one way or another, only difference is we’re trying to make up for it.” Peach turns a bit where she sits, leans in, earnestly, looking at her guest with a stern thinning gaze, trying to find a point within her that she saw in grey, that she sees sometimes in others on the road. A point of redemption. The offer is worth extending to Plum, despite her attempts to meddle since arriving, to put cracks in what is trying to be built here, Peach looks at her and holds out a metaphorical helping hand, an olive branch so to speak. “Stay, make up for what you did, whatever it is, we don’t need to know, but you can fix this. Make things better than when you found them.” A moral both her and Grey carry, and one she thinks might just resonate with this woman, even if only a little. Plum is still unable to answer, for once, her witty remarks and devious words fail her, watching as peach goes, gets her confiscated rifle from her room before placing it down on the table, putting a packed bag by the door that she’d already stocked, food, water, enough things to get her guest off to a good start if she leaves. Even extra ammo for her gun.

“The choice is yours.” And Peach leaves for bed.

Plum sits up all night, pondering in firelight, looking around at the life these two have started to build, a life she wanted once, when she was young and naive, but grew to believe it was impossible, and now, it was a life offered to her too. Here’s her chance, is she good enough to take it? To brave trying to change, to be more than she always has been? Its scary to consider, theres so much she could do wrong, these two are not like the rest, they can’t be bought, they don’t falter when given a choice that shakes their morals, whatever they were, wherever life took them, they’re trying to turn it around right here, right now. What if trouble finds Plum, what if these seemingly good people get caught in the crossfire? Was it worth the risk? So many questions, things Plum wished she had definitive answers for, but life not so easy, nothing is clear cut.

Peach wakes to find the bag she’d packed gone, the rifle not where she’d placed it the night before. ‘To each their own’, she thinks, ‘can’t do more than put the offer on the table’. A twinge of sadness settles under her skin, that she couldn’t pull another out of a bad life. Her day begins like many others, kettle whistling on the stove, coffee in hand as she steps out onto the deck, stares across the farm as her vision adjusts to the light out here, looks across her plants, but her steps are paused, her raised cup hovering at her lips, assessing what she’s looking at, not even taking her first sip yet. A stooped figure is crouched trying to pull a root from the dirt of an unused field. Plum didn’t leave, stands up straight with a stretch in her spine, noticing Peach, she’s far away but you cant miss that smile, not even with Peach’s bad vision. She’s got her rifle with her propped against a stump to one side, grabbed as she approaches, wiping her brow with a coy grin. Peach says nothing, just makes her a hot drink, both taking a seat on the deck in the early dawn.“I put the bag away. Don’t think I’ll need it just yet.” About all Plum could say, both women smiling into their drinks.

#i padded it out a bit #so sue me #i liked the premise #fallout au #fruit salad #brainrot

[necrophcge]

@zcrayas // x

It had been some time indeed since a tarnished had gotten more than a few terrified swings of their sword or loosed poorly aimed arrows at him before meeting a gruesome end. To not only anticipate the arrival of a Recusant, but bait her own trap for him alongside two of her fellows... vexing, infuriating to say the least. Perhaps the rumors were true, and those said to be gathering in Limgrave were truly possessing in warrior's blood, for the quarry of this most recent hunt had proved to be a far fiercer creature even after her companions had been felled.

He Who Meddles can think of no other explanation as the gaping wound upon his side openly weeps, viridescent blood dripping steadily through the clawed digits of one hand as the other three struggle to drag him forward through the darkness of the tunnel. His abdomen twitches and heaves beneath the growing exhaustion, air drawn in and out noisily as he shoulders into one of the walls of stone with an unpleasant scraping of chitin and claws. Gathering himself, gnashing fangs and mandibles against the growing darkness at the edges of his sight, he pushes himself off and stumbles forwards. Passing out here, in the warmth of the manor's hidden alcoves, would only leave him weakened and vulnerable to the other denizens of the volcano...

To say nothing of Tanith, who wouldn't be pleased to be kept waiting once she realized he'd returned without informing her of his success.

Sanctuary was within reach, however. As the tunnel came at last to an end and the faint glimmering light of candles illuminated one of the manor's empty halls, He Who Meddles allowed himself to relax ever so much. Pressing and prying with what arms he could spare, the stone gave way enough for him to writhe through before resealing the entrance back into the illusion of smooth stone. How grateful he was that so late into the evening all the manor was asleep rather than witness to his current state of being.

At least until he tasted the scent upon the air.

A man-serpent? Here? His mandibles gnashed together, pressing close against his face even as he hissed lowly, the noise comparable to that of a boiling kettle as his many-eyes flitted for the source of heat and scales and sharp-fang... before settling on a girl, half-hidden behind a door and wielding only a candle and a shaking voice against him. Chitin rustling uneasily, claws flexing and curling, He Who Meddles regards her warily even as she speaks, mind attempting to draw some sort of sense from whatever he's seeing here. A man-serpent, but a girl? In the manor?

It comes to him then, cleaving through the fog of pain and exhaustion and frankly growing hunger. This must be her, then-- the one who was not to know anything of what occurred deeper into the Serpent's lair. "... you must be the Lady Rya." He Who Meddles clamps down fiercely on the urge to simply disappear and let his wounds remove him from this encounter, instead dipping his head slightly. Tanith seemed to like that, perhaps her "daughter" would as well? "I... apologize. It wasn't my intent to frighten you."

#zcrayas #v. with malice and envy; we covet our mother’s blessing (elden ring.) #// the dawning horror of meeting your not-boss's daughter when you were explicitly told not to allow that to happen lmaoooo

[thefreakymunson]

Hiii!!!! I know you were looking for new non smut stuff! I HAVE ONE!!!

Okay okay okay hear me out.

Eddie and reader best friend are 100% dense about them both being ass over tea kettle for one another and so Robin and Steve meddle and have them go to the mall with them right? And then Ditch them with a note saying “have a nice date you two don’t do anything we wouldn’t do.”

Eddie: -bright red- a…a date? Ahem. I mean if you are amenable.

Reader: -blushes- I um… yes?

Both of them pause Eddie: -frowns- there isn’t much those two idiots wouldn’t do.

I’ll leave the rest up to you but have a moment where Robin and Steve pop out of somewhere “JUST KISS ALREADY!!!!”

“You know he’s totally into you, right?” Robin had said the previous night on the phone. You had been talking for hours at that point, the two of you gushing over your crushes when you finally let it slip that you had been crushing hard on the guy you called your best friend for years now. Eddie Munson.

“Rob, you’re so full of shit.” You huffed into the phone.

“Dude, when you’re not around and it’s just him and Steve and I, he will not shut up about you. It’d be cute if it wasn’t so annoying, actually.”

You should’ve seen the warning signs a mile away that she was up to something that night when she told you that she wanted you, Eddie, Steve, and herself to all meet up at Scoops Ahoy after closing time the next night.

You should’ve seen the warning signs when she told you to dress nice. You should’ve seen the warning signs when you called Scoops earlier that day and asked if everything was still on for the night and she giggled.

But now, here you were, standing outside of a closed Scoops Ahoy, Eddie leaned up against the door beside of you as you clutched a piece of paper that said:

“Dear Y/N and Eddie, Have a fun night, just the two of you. Have a little date. Don’t get yourselves in trouble because we don’t have bail money, but don’t do anything we wouldn’t do.

Love, S + R.”

You read the note several times and looked around to make sure this wasn’t one of their elaborate pranks and they weren’t going to come running out from the fake plants. You passed the note to Eddie who read it over and over again, his face beet red by the time he looked up at you.

“A date?” He scratched the back of his neck, “What’s that about?”

“I guess they’ve got the rogue idea that we have a crush on each other.” You shrugged, your cheeks tinted as red as his. You didn’t dare look at him. Not until he spoke again and you felt those butterflies flurry.

“I mean, I guess they’re not too far off.” He snorted, “It’s not like I haven’t had a crush on you for the past three years.”

Your eyes snapped up to his and you swallowed harshly. Did he just say...three years? You couldn’t talk. Your mouth felt dry and you swore you lost the ability to speak. How was he so casual about this?

“I mean...if you’ve got something better to do...we can just forget this ever happened.” Eddie shrugged as he straightened himself up and acted as if he was going to walk off, “Since we were...ya know...ditched?”

“No, I – I’d go out on a date with you.” You said, way too enthusiastically, as you gripped his leather clad arm. Way to play it cool. “I mean...we can hang out, yeah?”

“You sure?” He snorted, “Cause it looks like you’re about ready to run away from me now that I told you I was crushing on you.”

“No,” you laughed softly as you shook your head, “I guess I just...can’t believe it. I mean...you’re not exactly the only one that’s had a three year crush.”

“Really?” His voice was soft, “You’re not just saying that to make me feel like less of an asshole, hm?”

“No,” you smiled up at him, “I’m not.”

You caught the smile that was splayed across his face as he looked down at his boots and then back up at you after he had regained a semblance of composure, “So...maybe we can go to the food court or something? It’s late...and there’s probably nothing else open right now.”

“Yeah, that’s fine with me.” You nodded, trying so hard to not be awkward but failing miserably.

The two of you walked quietly to the food court, both of you ordering a milkshake and a order of fries to share. You found the farthest table from everyone else and slid into the booth, sliding around until you were sitting next to him, your thighs touching from the closeness. You were afraid it was going to feel weird now but it just still felt like you were hanging out with your best friend.

He was quiet for a minute before he snorted slightly and nodded towards the opposite end of the food court.

“There’s two sailors staring at us from across the food court right now,” Eddie said and you followed his line of sight across the dining tables and to a corner. You bit back a laugh when you saw Steve and Robin passing back and forth a pair of binoculars.

“Guess we’ve got some spies,” you laughed, propping your head up on your hand as you looked over at him. He seemed a bit quieter than usual and you wondered if something was bothering him.

“You okay?” You asked softly.

“Uh...yes and no,” he nodded, “I guess this isn’t how I wanted you to find out...I wanted you to tell you when I was ready. Guess I’m a little upset this wasn’t done on our time but...maybe they realized we were both too stubborn.”

“We are a little stubborn, aren’t we?” You laughed softly, catching his gaze as he turned to look at you. You leaned into him, your chest against his arm as you asked softly,“What else is on your mind, Eds?”

“...I just really want to kiss you right now,” he nodded, his eyes drifting down to your mouth.

His kiss was everything you had ever dreamed of. Soft and gentle, taking a bit more desperate edge once you didn’t pull away. You could faintly hear cheers coming from the opposite end of the food court as one of his hands came up to cup the back of your head and through a peeking eye, you could see he was flipping the two cheerleaders off.

“It’s about time!” Steve shouted from the corner.

“Get a room, lovebirds!” Robin laughed right along with him.

#Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson x you #Eddie Munson x reader #Eddie Munson oneshot #Eddie Munson fanfic #Eddie Munson imagine #Joseph Quinn #Stranger Things #Stranger Things AU #Stranger Things fanfic #angst #fluff #thefreakymunson

[asknarashikari]

In the restaurant that Touma was managing, it was really busy, it wasn’t even Lunch time and people were busy coming in and going.

Suddenly when an alarm sounded, it was probably another of those Gangler Stragglers.

Touma looked at both Umika and Kairi then at the newly hired chef/waiter. The guy was a new hire and he agreed to cater to both waiting and cooking services.

He was the senior cook so he trained the guy, and he had to admit, the new hire was a fast learner.

New hire: Go, I can hold down the fort. *The guy pushed Touma* I’ll be right here as soon as you fight those ganglers.

Umika: How?

Kairi: No time! we’ll grill him later!

New hire: *nods at the leaving Lupinrangers.

-----

The new hire looked at his desire driver and at his Tanuki-themed core ID.

New hire: As frustrating as it is and as annoying as he is, Tsukasa-san has a point.

New hire: I can’t interfere in Sentai business and other Riders' business, unless our enemies have banded together.

---

Spoiler alert: The only thing the Lupinrangers knew about the new hire was that his name was Sakurai Keiwa and he’s just a part-time employee as he tries to find a more permanent and stable career.

Lmao like hell he's just gonna sit there and not do anything XD

I'm serious though, when has a stupid thing like "interfering in [someone else's affairs] stopped a Rider from throwing themselves headfirst into a battle at the slightest signs of trouble?

And Tsukasa, of all people, being the one to tell him to not meddle in Sentai stuff when he went out of his way to infiltrate the Shiba manor and then fought alongside the Shinkengers? The one who willingly cooperated with Marvelous and somehow talked everyone else but Daiki into helping him too? Talk about pot calling the kettle black!

#kamen rider geats #kamen rider decade #kaitou sentai lupinranger #sakurai keiwa #kadoya tsukasa #(a hypocrite as always) #ask #pulaasul

[sleepyowlwrites]

Dirt in the Doing | a WIP introduction

TITLE: Dirt in the Doing (usually all in lowercase) GENRE: vague futuristic grunge, ci-fi (city fiction) SETTING: alternate earth, alternate asia* TROPES: found family, man vs. self, childhood trauma, mental health issues, revenge, forgiveness, anger (mis)management TRIGGERS: violence, mental illness, bad coping mechanisms, abuse, manipulation, attempted assault, drug usage

STORY:

If he's being honest with himself, Jet doesn't have any long-term goals. He thought he wanted to study law, he thought he wanted to be an activist, he thought he believed in something. Now he's busting his hands everyday in a garage and on other people's faces. Jet has no plans, and therefore nothing is disrupted when his twin brother appears back in his life after several years of no contact. Nothing, except his ritualistic habit of being angry, taking it out on someone who maybe asked for it, maybe didn't, and then continuing to be angry after the rush dies down.

Copper doesn't judge him, but he does want to get to know him again, which is hard, considering Jet is stalling on the process of getting to know himself.

And then Rune shows up, at first seeming to be his spiritual twin and then his complete opposite. She's got plenty of her own demons and anger issues haunting her, and despite preferring not to meddle in other people's lives, Jet decides it would be good idea to help her with what's chasing her instead of confronting his own issues.

It turns out that both things can and probably will happen at the same time and it's really hard to deal with someone else's trauma when you're ignoring your own. At the very least, while Jet is emotionally dealing with his trauma, he does get to physically deal with Rune's which comes with the added bonus of punching people, something which Jet is already good at.

Awesome.

THE CHARACTERS:

Jet, 22

Rune, 25

Copper, 22

Shadow, 21

Moss, 29

Yarrow, 20

Hawk, 23

Max, 27 (our main antagonist for the story)

Cam, 24 (our secondary antagonist for the story)

PLOT AND KETTLE: in the absence of Jet being willing to act out his own story, he's working on Rune's, which involves no less than: a drug dealer, a fighting ring, too many people's traumas to count, his twin trying to have emotions with him, a stale murder investigation, accidental arson, petty crimes, a mediocre mortal enemyship, a really, truly serious enemyship, and rent.

STUFF THAT IS NIFTY: Rune has a million secrets. Max has a superiority complex and too many young people addicted to multiple highs. Hawk is too afraid to investigate the mysterious deaths of his parents. Shadow is homeless. Copper is relentless in his kindness but also in his guilt. Moss can't care for the whole world so he tries to at least care for his friends. Yarrow exists in that strange state of perpetual coasting. there are are more moments to be found in the quiet, but unfortunately too many more to be born out of danger.

STATUS CHECK: in either the 0 or 1st draft, depending on how much sense it makes by the end

*I said alternate asia because I've imagined all the characters as being vaguely asian-coded, a carryover from when this wip was fanficion for a thai series for about 2500 words

taglist: @writingonesdreams @zoya-writes @selene-stories @enchanted-lightning-aes and my other muses @klywrites @ren-c-leyn @diphthongsfordays @myhusbandsasemni @drippingmoon

#wip: city story #wip introduction #please don't use my wip tag thanks #i would've had this posted four hours ago #except for the graphics and being distracted by the tv

[sugarpopss]

Chasing Frogs is a Dangerous Thing

Warnings: implied child abuse, semi-explicit child abuse, implied child neglect, swearing

November 9th, 1982

Bo spent the entire bus ride back to Ambrose stewing. 

He was pissed that he and Vincent are stuck on the after-school sports bus with all of the asshole basketball kids, pissed about the detention that he had to stay after school far, which then nessiciated the riding of the sports bus. He was pissed that stupid Marty Waters barely got a scolding for spreading those bullshit rumors, but Bo didn’t even hit him and still got written up for ‘inappropriate language’. He was pissed that his folks were gonna blow a gasket when the school called, if they hadn’t already. 

But he wasn’t scared. 

No, Bo didn’t get scared anymore. He learned to push down that feeling years ago. It felt better to be angry than it does to be scared, and he didn’t have the time to be scared, anyway; not when he’s got shit to do. Not when he’s got brothers to protect-Vincent from the asshole kids at school and Lester from their asshole parents-and homework to finish and yelling to drown out and almost-teenage boy shenanigans to get up to. He was busy, dammit. 

The bus stopped in the middle of Main Street. Bo and Vincent were the last off, lingering behind the rest of the rowdy, whooping middle schoolers. They immediately broke off from the group and started up Main Street. The Sinclair house sat tall and imposing across from the House Of Wax, practically looming over Ambrose. Looming over Bo, at least.

There was no Dad marching down the sidewalk towards them, which Bo took as a good thing. That meant the school hadn’t called yet, or at least if they did, no one picked up the phone. Thank god. He hated it when Dad got angry enough to ‘discipline’ him in public. It didn’t happen often, because people stared and sometimes attempted to intervene, quiet suggestions of “I don’t think you need to grab him around like that, Victor.” and “Boys that age swear sometimes, you shouldn’t get to upset about it, Mr. Sinclair.” 

Dad hated that too, though; people meddling in his family's private business, talking like they know anything about anything at all. Bo hated that, too, but in a different way. He didn’t mind Mrs. Allistor gently telling Dad off in the grocery store, or when last years gym teacher noticed his raw ankles and asked if ‘everything was okay at home’. A small, secret part of him found comfort in it, in the knowledge that there were a few people in town who gave even a fraction of a shit about him. 

It’s the other kids that really made him steam. 

Vincent tapped him on the elbow before he could fall too far down that rabbit hole. He could always tell when Bo is going into that blazing, violent place in his mind. Sometimes he could even pull him out of it. 

Probably 20 yards from the house, something burst out from the woodline, filthy and grinning and running at full speed. 

“HEY!” Lester shouted, sprinting up to his brothers like there was a fire under his ass. He just barely stopped himself from slamming into Vincent, then began to ramble a mile a minute in that way small children love to do. 

“On the bus Andy Beamer asked me if I wanted to go down to the creek with him and I did so we went and we caught frogs and I had this frog in my hand and it jumped out and landed on Andy’s chest and he screamed then it hopped away but I chased it and went over this log but I tried to jump and I fell and I got mud in my mouth and Andy laughed at me but then he had to go home so I came home but I saw these worms and-”

“Lester!” Bo exclaimed, cutting him off. God, he loved him to death but that kid could talk. 

Lester stared at him with huge brown puppy dog eyes. Bo sighed through his nose. 

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah! Why?” 

Lester looked at the twins like he hadn’t just told them he’d gone ass over kettle in the creek. Bo looked at Vincent, just to make sure that they were on the same page, but Vincent was zeroed in on Lester's bulging corduroy pocket. Come to think of it, that pocket did seem a bit odd. 

“Are there worms in your pocket?”

“There are!” Lester yelled, ratcheting up the volume again. “That’s what I wanted to tell you guys! I found these cool worms in the woods!” 

Lester plunged his hand into his pocket and pulled out a handful of squirming, wriggling tan worms. Bo thought they just looked like regular old earthworms, probably washed up by the recent bout of rain. One look at Lesters excited grin, though, and he couldn’t stop himself from playing along. 

“Those are cool, Les. You found ‘em in the woods?” Lester was always finding things in the woods, bones and bugs and snakes and old coke bottles. 

“I did! They look like earthworms but I don’t think they are! Guess why? Because I found them all huddled together! Isn’t that weird?” 

“It is.” Bo found himself leaning closer to look at the worms, and saw Vincent doing the same in his peripheral vision. Lester’s excitement was contagious.

Vincent pulled back from the worms and hiked his backpack further up on his shoulder. One look at him told Bo they were thinking the same thing. 

“You can’t take those inside. You have to let them go.” Vincent said. 

“I thought I could maybe keep one as a pet, or maybe two so it won’t be lonely. But I don’t think worms get lonely because Andy said his older sister said that worms don’t think and so they can’t get lonely.”

Bo, admittedly not an expert on earthworm psychology, thought that sounded pretty solid.

“Lonely or not, Mom will have a cow if she catches you with those. They’ve gotta go.” A big part of protecting his siblings was getting them to maintain a low profile. Coming home covered in mud and sporting pet worms were not a part of that low profile. 

Lester’s face fell. Bo felt guilt creeping up his throat. He’s a little kid! He should be allowed to do gross little kid stuff! 

Vincent tapped Lester’s wrist to get his attention. “You could put them in Mom’s garden. That’s kind of like having a pet that lives outside.”  

Lester immediately brightened again. “I could!” He turned and raced the rest of the way to the house. Bo could see him crouched where the petunias bloom in the springtime, gently releasing the worms. 

Vincent shrugged and started towards the house. Bo watched Lester in the garden for another moment, then followed. 

“Come on, Les!” Bo called. “I’ll hose you off. You stink like frog shit.” They all knew that if Lester tracked mud all over the wood floors, it wouldn’t matter that he’d put worms down. 

Vincent held out his hand for Bo’s backpack, then headed inside. Bo went around to the side yard, Lester trailing behind him. 

Lester started talking again as Bo turned on the hose and let the water spurt over his hand. 

“I heard too that when you cut a worm in half it grows into two worms! Isn’t that cool? I don’t know if it’s true, though, because I guess that means that one worm doesn’t have a face. I wouldn’t cut a worm in half ever, even if someone told me to.”

“Take off your shirt.” Bo said, turning the hose on his brother. “And flip down, lemme get the shit out of your hair.” 

“It’s gonna be cold!” Lester whined, breaking out the puppy dog eyes again. Bo rolled his. 

“You can wear my jacket if you want, just come here.” 

That seemed to do it. Lester pulled his mud soaked shirt off and stepped forward, eyes and mouth shut tightly as he bent under the spray. 

When Lester was decently clean and the water was turned off, Bo made to pull his sweatshirt off. It really wasn’t that cold, but Lester was wet and Bo had promised. Just as he was pulling it over his head, a scream that could shatter glass sounded from across the yard. 

“Oh my God!” Trudy shrieked, dashing to Lester and grabbing him by the shoulders. “What’s going on here? Where’s your shirt? Why are you wet?” 

She released Lester and rounded on Bo. Of course she did. Bo felt the anger he’d been stewing in since 2pm begin to lick up the back of his throat. He wasn’t scared, he was angry. He wasn’t scared. 

“What the hell are you doing?! Are you trying to give him hypothermia? What the fuck is wrong with you?!” she screamed. Bo set his jaw and took it. This was the routine. 

“I fell in the creek with Andy-” Lester began in a small voice. Trudy silenced him with a vague wave of her hand. 

“Be quiet. Beauregard, do you think this is fucking funny?” Bo knew that questions were a trap when Mom was angry. Answer and get hit for talking back, be quiet and get hit for ignoring her. 

Trudy didn’t give him a chance to respond either. She grabbed him by the bicep and began tugging him back around the front of the house.

“God, you’re in for it. Wait until your father hears about this, I swear! I work so hard, I leave to create fucking art and this is what I get!” 

As Bo was pulled through the yard, he turned and saw Lester, holding his balled up, dirty shirt. When they passed through the front door and living room he saw Vincent, standing on the stairs, holding a clean towel. He’d get Lester, and they’d both be okay. 

Bo set his jaw, tuned out Trudy’s soprano screaming, and was pulled into the kitchen. 

#Posting this here too bc i love validation #house of wax (2005) #house of wax #house of wax fanfic #vincent sinclair #bo sinclair #lester sinclair #bo sinclair fanfic #slasher fanfic #my writing #trudy sinclair #shes in it so taggy tag tag

[middleearthpixie]

After the Fire ~ Chapter Twenty-Six

Summary: Following the Battle of the Five Armies, a grievously wounded Thorin is brought back to the kingdom of Erebor, which is still mostly in ruins. Although he’s survived the wounds he received at the end of Azog’s blade, his recovery is far from complete. Grief, regret, anger, all are making his journey that much more difficult and the physical recovery isn’t quite the most difficult challenge he faces.

Jasna Stoneham is no stranger to loss, as she is a survivor of Smaug’s wrath upon Esgaroth. When she is asked to help the dwarves healers of Erebor, her instinct is to say no, but she needs the job, and so agrees to it. However, no one told her that of all the patients, she would be responsible for the king himself, Thorin Oakenshield. 

Unfortunately, the road to recovery isn’t necessary a smooth one, but if there’s one thing Thorin will learn, it’s that Jasna is just as stubborn as he is and for every step back he takes, she is there to push him three steps forward. And Jasna will soon find out that there is a gentle, softer side to the dwarf king, one that very few people have ever seen and one he fights to keep hidden from her as well. But like his recovery, that is also easier said than done. 

Thanks to storms, Thorin passes the night with Jasna, and realizes his future mother in law is a very formidable woman… 

Pairing: Thorin Oakenshield x ofc Jasna Stoneham

Characters: Jasna, Thorin, Arabella Stoneham

Warnings: Unprotected sex 

Rating: M

Word Count: 4,637

Khuzdul Translation:

Mesmel - jewel of all jewels

Amrâlimê - my love

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Previous chapters can be found here. 

Thorin sat across the table from the woman who would one day soon be his mother in law and it was the first time since he was a boy that a mother’s steady gaze gave him the urge to shrink before her. But he prided himself on remaining perfectly straight in his chair, even as her dark violet eyes bored holes through him. 

“You came here, all this way, in this terrible weather, simply to speak with my daughter?” Her soft question broke the somewhat tense silence. 

Jasna had came over with the steaming kettle to prepare them each a cup of tea. “Mama, please, don’t d-do this.”

“It’s all right,” Thorin told her, looking up to catch Jasna’s eye before turning his attention back to Arabella. “I did, yes. I had to do it, and waiting another day simply was not an option.”

“And you travelled alone?”

“I’m a big boy, Mrs. Stoneham, and I’ve been from one end of Middle Earth to the other of late. A walk across the plains was not very taxing compared to all that.”

“No,” Arabella shook her head, tucking a loose silver curl behind her ear, “that isn’t what I mean. I mean, you traveled all this way, without a protective detail, simply to see my daughter. Have you any idea what risk that carries?”

He smiled then, shaking his head. “I rarely travel with bodyguards, if that’s what you mean. I’ve no need for them. I ventured from Ered Luin to the Iron Hills, to the Shire alone and had no trouble. This,” he gestured toward the door, “is my home. I am perfectly comfortable walking to Dale and from Dale to Erebor.” 

“Why?”

“Mother,” Jasna’s voice held a low note of warning, “stop m-m-meddling.”

“I am doing nothing of the sort. I am but curious.” Arabella shook her head. “Did you come on foot?”

“Mother!”

“It’s quite all right, mesmel,” he smiled at Jasna as she sank back into her chair, covering her hand with his. “I did.”

“And did you plan to traipse back to Erebor in this torrential downpour?”

He glanced over her shoulder at the kitchen windows behind her, beyond the sink. Rain pattered relentlessly against the panes and the wind howled as it spun along the streets and swooshed down the chimney. Not exactly the sort of weather he wished to be out in, but it certainly wouldn’t be the first time he was out in it. “I did, yes. Although, I might actually have to swim back, judging by the sound of that rain.”

Drops sizzled as they hit the flames on the hearth, rattled harder against the windows, and he could see Arabella wrestling with a thought as she pursed her lips and sighed softly. “You will pass the night here. I would hate to be responsible for the king’s catching his death in the rain.”

“I thank you, Mrs. Stoneham. The sofa looks very inviting and I appreciate your consideration.”

“Don’t be silly,” Jasna broke in, her thumb moving along the side his hand, warming his blood with each light stroke, “you will stay with me.”

His gut twisted at the frown that pulled at Arabella’s thin lips, and had the feeling he was now treading a fine line between her making him a eunuch or keeping his boys firmly attached to his body. “It’s really no trouble, Jasna.”

“Mama, you aren’t h-h-honestly going to m-m-make him sl-sleep on that lumpy old sofa, are you? He’s a king, remember?”

Arabella arched one iron-gray brow. “He is not your husband yet, Jasna. And the sofa is better than the floor, isn’t it? Even for a king?”

“I know. But what do you th-th-think is going to happen if he sleeps in my room? You’re only across the hallway, you know.”

That twist in his gut became an out and out kink, snapping hard enough to bring a brackish taste to his mouth. “Jasna, it’s really not—”

“Mama? What d-d-do you think we will do?”

He swallowed hard as Arabella’s gaze slid back to him and for a moment, he was almost convinced she would tell them both exactly what she thought they’d be doing, in no uncertain terms, and he’d have to convince her that no, of course he wasn't thinking about her daughter in that way. As if she didn’t already know what they’d gotten up to in the time before she returned home. 

But then, she sighed softly. “No, I don’t suppose it would matter much at this point. After all, we all three know what was going on in your room earlier, Jasna.”

She said this with a pointed look at her daughter and for the first time in his life, Thorin wanted to melt right into the floor. There was just no way to meet Arabella’s gaze now, not when he knew that she knew that he had thoroughly ravished her daughter only hours earlier. 

Although at the same time, she was usually calm about it. Almost resigned to the notion, so perhaps his boys were perfectly safe. 

He certainly hoped they were.

“Mama?”

“And I know that if the two of you are going to get up to mischief again, you will do it whether I approve or not.” She shook her head. “And you are going to marry her, aren’t you, Thorin Durin?”

He smiled and nodded. “As soon as she’ll have me, Mrs. Stoneham.”

A hint of a blush swept along Jasna’s cheekbones and her thumb tightened about his hand. Arabella’s gaze shifted to their hands, then to him, and finally, to her daughter. Then, she picked up her tea cup and said, “I suppose you could do far worse than the King Under the Mountain, Jasna. Far worse indeed.”

Thorin couldn’t help his grin. “Thank you for the compliment, Mrs. Stoneham.”

She smiled as she finished her tea. “I am not cold enough to turn you out into the rain, nor am I naive enough to think keeping you on a sofa keeps you away from Jasna until vows are taken, but I am soft enough to want my only child to be happy, even if it means I’m going to lose her to you and sooner than I’d expected.” She rose from her chair, skirting the table to move to the doorway, where she added, “Don’t stay up too late.”

****

The room was dark and quiet and Jasna couldn't hold back her sigh of contentment as she tucked her head against Thorin’s chest and whispered, “Are you c-c-certain no one will n-n-n-notice you’ve gone missing? No one will worry that misfortune has be-befallen you?”

“Dís knows where I am,” came his soft reply, his fingers moving lightly along her hair. “And she knows why I am here and I think she’ll quell any other concerns. Although, I think it safe to say she will not believe I was permitted to stay here with you.”

“My mother is unique and she is no fool. She kn-knows what we were doing. You heard her.”

“Well, I’m also marrying you, so… probably wise not to anger a king by keeping him from his woman.”

She lifted her head to gaze down at him. “Your woman?”

“You’re not?”

“Thorin.”

The sheets rustled as he came up to playfully pin her on her back. “Tell me you aren’t, Miss Stoneham.”

“I should.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“I could.”

“I don’t think so.”

She smiled up at him. “You seem very sure of yourself, Mr. Durin.”

He winked. “I know you.”

The floorboards beyond her door creaked and he grinned, easing off her once more. Jasna tucked herself up against him, letting her hand come to rest on his chest. “Does my mother scare you?”

“More than any warg or orc I’ve ever faced. Azog included.”

“Thorin.”

“She does, mesmel. She allowed me to stay here, but I’ve the feeling that, despite what she said earlier, if she thought I was trying to have my way with you, I’ve no doubt she’d put a stop to it very quickly and the last thing I want is her storming through the door at that moment.”

“I cannot argue with that.” She rose onto her elbow, tracing a small circle about his right nipple with her free hand. In the low light, the scars from Azog’s blade, just below it, looked shiny and smooth. “Do these pain you any longer?”

“From time to time, but no more than a twinge,” he said, his hand coming to rest atop hers. “I had a gifted healer with small, skilled hands.”

He caught her hand in his and brought it to his lips and without thinking, she curved that hand against his furred cheek. “I am just gl-glad I could help.”

“As am I.”

“You know,” she murmured, letting her fingers slip through the dark hair over his belly, “I should be furious with you, for not being honest with me.”

“Truth be told, I thought you would be. I was ready to fight you on it, to argue all the reasons why you should at least hear me out. So, tell me, why weren’t you?”

“I don’t know,” she confessed softly. “I suppose I was just glad to see you.”

“Good. Because I missed you, mesmel.”

“And I missed you. The earrings were beautiful, by the way. I cried over them like a baby, but they are just perfect.”

“Good. It did take me a while to find you the perfect sapphire. You thought I forgot, didn’t you?”

She held his gaze for a moment, and shook her head, murmuring, “I thought you’d give the sapphire to Miss Whitbow.”

“No, amrâlimê. You were the one I couldn’t stop thinking about. And she is the one who pushed me to right things with you.”

Jasna managed a slight smile. “I suppose I should thank her, then.”

“We don’t have to discuss it now.” He reached up, curving his hand against her cheek, his thumb sweeping lightly along it. “And you’re welcome. Balin outdid himself where they were concerned.”

“Then I shall thank him as well.”

His thumb stilled. “And now you’re finally comfortable with me?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Your stammer has gone quiet.” The linens rustled once more as he shifted to ease himself over her once more, his dark hair spilled forward as if to curtain them off from the rest of the world. 

“I’ve been comfortable around you for a bit now.”

“Don’t think I hadn’t noticed, Jasna. I simply did not wish to call attention to it and embarrass you. Although,” his lips brushed hers, “I didn't mind it nearly as much as you did. I was becoming quite good at finishing your thoughts for you.”

“And you were wrong most of the t-t-time.”

“But I made you smile, so perhaps I wasn’t so wrong.” 

“Thorin.”

“What?” He dipped forward and her eyes closed as he nuzzled her. It wasn't anything she could have ever imagined him doing, as he always came across as so gruff and stoic and unfeeling. To see this softer, almost playful side of him warmed her, made her almost wish others could see it as well.

But at the same time, she didn't wish to share this side of him, either. She rather liked being the only one privy to his tender side.

His beard prickled along her jawline, along her neck, and she shivered when he swept a kiss along the curve of her shoulder. A laugh bubbled to her lips, that bit of skin far more ticklish than she’d ever realized. And as he kissed her, he slowly tugged her chemise down, caught the ribbon with one hand and tugged, then skimmed his hand out to sweep the muslin from her.

“Are you laughing at me?” he murmured, kissing her again. And again. And with each one, she shivered and squirmed against him. 

“That tickles!”

“Shhh…” His breath came warm against her ear just before he caught the lobe between gentle teeth. “I’d rather your mother think we are actually sleeping in here.”

“Then st-st-stop tickling me!”

“Very well. If you insist.”

Her back bowed sharply as he slid down and promptly caught her nipple between teasing lips. She managed to hold back the gasp, mindful that her mother was only across the hallway, but as pleasure zinged through her, it grew more and more difficult, so she mashed her lips together to hold that gasp at bay. 

He swirled his tongue about the pebbled nub, shifted his weight just enough to free one hand, which slid down along the slope of her waist, along the curve of her thigh, and then—

“Oh!” Now that gasp escaped on its own as he slid a finger inside her and brushed that amazing little nub with his thumb to make stars dance before her eyes. Tingles spangled through her, sharper and sweeter with each stroke and it wasn't but moments later that he eased that finger free, positioned himself, and entered her with a slow, teasing thrust.

“Amrâlimê,” he whispered as he began to move inside her. He caught her by the hands, linking his fingers with hers and pressed them down into the pillow on either side of her head. “Kurdelê…  Zamaralmizi hikhthuzu… Jasna…”

She only understood her name, but his words sounded so breathless and beautiful, she knew they were endearments of some sort. He moved slowly inside her, each gentle thrust bringing forth a new and exquisite sensation to course through her. Unlike earlier, there was no furious pounding, no bedstead slamming into the wall. It wasn’t primal, but it was every bit as powerful. 

He gazed down at her, a sinful smile on his lips, tenderness in his eyes, and without thinking, she drew her legs up to wrap about his waist and with his next thrust, a low moan bubbled to his lips. His eyes slid shut, his smile melted into something far more serious and he surged hard then, whispering, “Jasna…”

His control faltered. He thrust harder now. Those tingles tightened into knots that swelled deep within her and she clung to him. She tightened about him, her fingernails sank into his shoulders, and she bit down hard on her bottom lip to hold back her cry of ecstasy as those knots burst in a shower of star fire and bliss to rain over her, to threaten to drown her in the tingly, hot pleasure that swept over her like a wave. 

Thorin growled her name in her ear, crushing her to him as he neared his limit. She met him at the summit and when he went over the edge, he took her with him, each throbbing into the other. He tensed against her, arched hard, and then…

“Jasna!” He gritted this into her ear, arching hard into her, his body rigid, but then, as he finished, he sank again her, breathless and fighting to fill his lungs. 

“Mahal…” he whispered breathlessly, his head coming to rest in the slope of her shoulder. “Maralmizi…”

Her head spun from the sweet force of her climax, from the way it mingled with his to leave her shivering against him. Her eyes closed of their own will, her fingers moving lightly along his soft hair, and a light laugh floated to her lips. “I haven’t any idea wh-what you just said.”

His laughter came soft and airy against her skin. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, but that doesn’t help.”

“No,” he lifted his head to regard her with heavy-lidded, sleepy blue eyes and an equally sleepy smile, “that’s what I said. That’s what maralmizi means.”

“Oh…” She smiled as his eyes closed and his head came to rest against her once more. “That’s very pretty. Will you teach me your language?”

“Of course.” He swept a light kiss along her neck, then carefully eased from and off her, stretching out alongside her with a soft sigh. As she snugged against him, he lifted his arm to draw about her shoulders and pulled her closer, turning his head to press a kiss into the top of hers. “Tell me, do you think your mother would wish to follow you to Erebor?”

“To live?”

“Yes.”

“You would allow that?”

“Did you think I wouldn’t?”

“I—I don’t know. It isn’t s-s-something I’ve let myself even th-th-think about until just now.”

“You will be Erebor’s queen, mesmel, and my wife. I will make an exception for your mother, even if she doesn’t care for me.”

“I don’t think it’s that she doesn’t care for you, Thorin. It’s just… she’s my mother. She saw I was hurt and her instinct is to pr-pr-protect me from what hurt me.”

His fingers traced lightly along her upper arm, sending gentle flutters through her. “I should have told you about Miss Whitbow.”

“Yes, you should have.”

“Nothing ever happened between her and I, you know. You are the only woman I’ve been with.”

Jasna rose onto her elbow to peer down at him. “Nothing happened?”

“Nothing.” He shook his head. “I escorted her about Erebor and we talked, but nothing else.”

“Not even a kiss?”

His eyes glittered as they met hers. “Not even a kiss.”

“I’ll wager she was disappointed.”

He chuckled, shaking his head once more. “I am not so sure of that.”

“Oh, I am. I know what it’s like to kiss you, Mr. Durin. It’s quite nice.”

A low chuckle rose to his lips. “Quite nice?”

“Yes.”

He caught her about the shoulders and tugged her down to meet his lips in a soft kiss. Then, as she snuggled against him once more, he whispered, “We should get some sleep, mesmel. The sun will be up shortly.”

****

Thorin jolted awake, his hear racing, his breath almost impossible to catch. The dream lingered as he stared up into the pale gold first light of dawn. The rain had blown out overnight to let that soft light filter into the room and for a moment, he didn’t know where he was, the dream clinging stubbornly to confuse him as to why he was in this small room with yellowing white walls and an odd water stain where the wall met the ceiling in the far corner. The furnishings were simple. The draperies worn, with pulls running along their lengths. The bed was narrow and lumpy, the quilts clean, but rough. 

Then Jasna sighed in her sleep and he felt himself relax. The Stoneham flat. That was where he’d fallen asleep. There was no dragon. No pale, scarred orc. Kíli and Fíli were alive and well and safe within Erebor’s walls. 

His woman was asleep beside him, on her side, facing toward the window, the rough blanket clinging to the gentle curve of her waist. In the soft rays of morning light, her skin almost glowed in pale perfection. He managed a smile, reaching up to rub his forehead with one hand. At least he didn't wake up thrashing about and moaning, as he did most of the time.

Still, he had to move, so he carefully rose from the bed and reached for his trousers, draped over the straight-backed chair just inside the doorway. Jasna’s chambers were about an eighth of the size of his back in Erebor. If he stood in the middle of the room, he was fairly certain he’d be able to touch the opposite walls with each hand. 

He slid into his trousers, looking back at Jasna as he fastened them. Her glorious red hair spilled across the dingy pillowcase, and for a moment, he wanted only to gather it in his hands and bury his face in the silken strands to breathe deeply her scent of vanilla and honey and something far darker and delicious. 

But he didn't wish to wake her, either, and so kept his hands to himself as he drew on his henley. He carefully opened the door, and just as carefully closed it behind him, then padded down the short hallway to the small kitchen.

Arabella Stoneham was already there, her back to him as she stood at the counter. “You’re up early, Mr. Durin.”

He froze at the unexpected, and not overly friendly, greeting. “I apologize. I shouldn’t be?”

She peered over her shoulder at him. “Your people are not about to break down my door thinking I’ve kidnapped you, are they?”

“No. Those who need know already know where I am and why I am here.” He came into the kitchen. “Is there anything I might help you with?”

“Help me?” Arabella snorted. “As if I’d expect a king to help with something as mundane as breakfast.”

“I don’t cook well,” he moved to the table, his hands resting on the back of one of the three straight-backed chairs that looked identical to the one in Jasna’s room, “but I don’t mind helping.”

“Why are you here?”

“In this room or here in general?”

“In general.” Now she turned toward him, her blue eyes cold and hard. “You’ve gotten what you wanted from my daughter, haven’t you? As I’m quite sure you were doing more than sleeping last night. And please, do not insult my intelligence and insist you slept on the floor and she in the bed and that you kept your hands to yourself.”

He wasn't at all certain how to answer her, as this wasn't exactly how he’d ever imagined a conversation with his future mother-in-law would go. “I’m not certain I understand what you’re getting at, Arabella. I’ve made my intentions where Jasna is concerned very clear, haven’t I?”

“She told me, Mr. Durin, about the woman to whom you were betrothed.” Arabella’s arms folded across her chest, her expression colder by the second. “A dwarrowdam, she said. One, I imagine, specifically chosen for the king.”

“Do you accuse me of playing about with Jasna, with no intention of making her anything other than a mistress, perhaps?” He stared at her, also folding his arms. “Because if so, you should be begging my pardon right about now, for the only woman to whom I’m betrothed is your daughter.”

“Do you expect me to believe you intend to follow through on that? Jasna is young and idealistic. She believes in fairy stories, you know. She believes the king would sacrifice everything to have her as his.

“I, however, believe no such thing. I do not know what you’re about where Jasna is concerned, but—”

“You do not know me, Arabella, and let me correct that right now. I have every intention of marrying Jasna, and so yes, I do expect you to believe I intend to follow through, because I do and I will marry her.”

Arabella’s scowl wavered, her eyes softening just a bit. “Why? Why do you wish to marry her?”

“Why? Why does any man wish to marry a woman? I am no different, you know.”

“You are a king. The reasons why are often far more pragmatic than sentimental where royalty is concerned.”

“I’ve been a king for but a few months. And before that, I was homeless, kingdomless, you name it. I assure you, my wanting to marry Jasna has nothing to do with pragmatism and everything to do with the fact that I love her. She saw me through some of my darkest days, my most vulnerable days, and because of her, I’m here now. And I don’t mean that in I’m here in this physical spot. I mean alive. 

“You don’t have to trust me and Mahal knows I’d understand because there are few Men I trust. But know this, I trust Jasna with my life. I have trusted her with it. And I hope you will see she can trust me as well, that in time, you’ll see for yourself what she’s come to mean to me—”

“I trust no men, of my kind or any kind,” Arabella interrupted softly. “I’ve seen how they treat anyone they feel beneath them. I’ve seen them make sport of my daughter because of her speech. I’ve seen them play with her feelings because of her need to care for people. She is a fine healer because of that need, but a vulnerable woman because of it as well.”

“I won’t hurt her.”

“You already have.”

He flinched at that, irritation flaring in his gut. That should have remained between him and Jasna.

But at the same time, Arabella wasn’t wrong. He sighed softly. “I know I have. And all I can do is promise to not ever do it again if I can possibly avoid it.”

“Do you love her?”

“I’ve already said I do, haven’t I?”

“I mean, love her as she is. Will you look to change her, to make her more acceptable?”

“Arabella,” he stepped back from the chair, “know this, there isn’t a thing I would change about your daughter. Not a single one. And now, it’s time for me to take care of her, as she took care of me when I hovered between this world and the next.”

“And her stammer does not trouble you? She will be expected, I’m sure, to play hostess to other important folks.”

“I know she will. And she will be fine. As for her stammer, no, it doesn’t trouble me. I try to make her less aware of it, and as she can tell you, I try finishing her sentences in any way that might make her laugh. Trust me,” he moved around to stand before her, no more than an arm’s length from her, “I love your daughter. And that won’t change any time soon. I promise you that.”

“You promised us all before,” Arabella told him, her voice void of emotion, “and we believed you. Then you set a dragon upon us. Why should I believe you are being any less self-serving now?”

“Because it is not your concern, Mama,” Jasna said softly from the doorway.

Thorin looked over at her, smiling at the sight. Mahal, she was beyond beautiful, with her hair all wild and unkempt—so different from how he usually saw her—her eyes heavy lidded from sleep she hadn’t quite shaken off just yet. 

“Jasna, you are my concern.”

Rubbing one eye, Jasna shook her head. “No, I’m not, Mama. I’m n-n-not a child any longer… and I kn-know you don’t want to b-b-b-believe that, but it’s true.”

“You are my child. And I will never not worry about you.”

“You do not need to worry now.” Jasna glanced over at Thorin and he wondered if she could see the love he felt for her written on his face, for he was certain he couldn’t hide it at all. “I’m in g-g-good hands. And the dwarves are l-l-lovely people. Well, except for a few of the ones from the Iron Hills.”

Arabella’s eyes softened as she gazed at Jasna. “I only want you to be happy, Jasna. That’s all I ever wanted for you. And if you will be truly happy…”

“I will be,” she said, moving up to slip her hand into his. Without thinking, Thorin linked his fingers with hers, gave her hand a gentle squeeze, and smiled as she added, “So, please, d-d-d-don’t worry, Mama. Everything will b-b-be fine.”

Arabella looked from Jasna to him and back, and she sighed softly. “I certainly hope it will be.”

“It will. You’ll see.” She looked up at Thorin. “It will all be just fine."

#Richard Armitage #The Hobbit #Thorin Oakenshield #Hobbit Fic #Hobbit Fanfic #Fan fiction #The Hobbit fan fiction #Thorin x OC #AU #Thorin Fic #Is it hot in here? #Romance #Everybody Lives AU #The Hobbit BOTFA

[autumnslance]

So if Estinien is Aeryn's bro, how did she feel about him breaking up with Riven, and then him trying to win her back years later?

It was mostly very confusing and Aeryn missed a lot of what was happening, until she was told directly by one party or another and then it was an "Oh! Ohh...Oh, why did you do that?" Especially since what Estinien did wasn't a break up so much as a cut and run.

That got him a Disappointed look for sure. A bit of a snarky scolding.

Mostly she stayed out of it except to make sympathetic noises when one or the other would talk to her about it, if at all, cuz much as she likes to meddle, relationships are weird and she doesn't get it (and her other attempts at helping ended in disaster and Estinien was Quite Specific she Not Help).

Aeryn had enough trouble figuring her own relationship out, trying to pin down whatever was happening between Estinien and Riven was a whole other kettle.

So she told Riven's bros and let them sort it out, cuz at least that'd be entertaining and Estinien'd deserve whatever lumps they gave him (cuz seriously, Estinien).

The pair of them getting back together was also, she was informed, Not Her Business so she watched closely from the sidelines, ready to pick up pieces if needed.

(Cuz at that point Estinien was going to end up in pieces if he pulled more Shenanigans and someone has to put the big lug back together...)

#Final Fantasy XIV #silliness #guildmates #Estinien x WoL #Riven Fortemps #Aeryn Striker #Estinien Varlineau

[laurasanchez36]

MSA x WnG: A Matter of Loaf and Death AU Chapter 10: Going to Piella's Mansion and Spinel's Mansion

**Gromit and Arturo walks away, then cut to a building, opening a window, looking around, looking at the blankets, walking to blankets, grabbing a blanket away, revealing the toy monkey, playing cymbals, flipping around, playing cymbals**

Piella: **grabs Gromit** Got u, u meddling mutt! So nice of u to come. Pity u'll miss you're master's tea party. **looks at a windmill** It'll go off with a bang! **looks at a clock**

Spinel: **grabs Arturo** Got u, u foolish boy! So nice of u to come. Pity u'll miss you're friends' tea party **looks at a windmill and throws arturo away**

Judy: **saves arturo from getting throwing** Arturo! D:

Wallace: **opens a present** Oh, I say. Get the kettle on, Gromit.

Piella: **opens the door, throwing Gromit inside, laughing with Spinel** I'll deal with you two later **closing the door, laughing with Spinel**

Muffet: **was starting angry about piella and spinel who they being completly lying at everyone**

Wallace: Come on, lad! Hah! What's keeping u?

Lionel: Yeah

Arturo: Huh?

Muffet: **runinng with gromit and her cousin, judy and are going to find out the truth of spinel and piella**

Piella: At last, my 13th. My baker's dozen!

Spinel: Yes, our final of my baker's dozen will be complete!

but then, Spinel and Piella are stopped and the hot-air balloon flies by the window

Piella and Spinel: Huh? **looks at at Muffet, Arturo, Judy, Gromit and Fluffles flying in a hot-air balloon** What?! looks at a sign with a hot-air balloon, saying, "BAKE-O-LITE STOREROOM", hearing the clock chiming Curse that balloon! And curse that prevailing south-westerly, they'll be in no time!

The Clock Chimes

Wallace: **tries to light the match** Doh! Strike a light!

Gromit with Muffet and Judy swings to the windmill

Wallace: **lights the match** Ah-hah! **lights the cake**

Lionel: Yes! :D

Gromit and Muffet goes in the house

Me/Laura: Muffet! :D

Sardonyx: Meow! (Muffet!)

Sarah: Muffet, you're here

Wallace: Oh, there you are!

Gromit lands on a table

Wallace: I think these matches are a bit...

Gromit spills the vase on Wallace

Wallace: ...damp. Oh, yes, it's one of those joke candles, lad!

Gromit tries to turn the light off the candle, bringing the cake

Wallace: Oi! Where are you going with that... **distorted** ...CA-A-A-A-AKE?! knocks Gromit

then the cake takes the bomb out

Wallace: Gromit! It's the bomb! The cake's a bomb! Wait a minute. U don't think...Piella...

Lionel: and Spinel could be...?

Muffet and Arturo: The Murderers of Bakers! D:

Others: What? D:

**they founds the truth of spinel and piella having their true colours**

Her msa oc and her new msa ocs belongs to @mysteryideasgroup and @sfcabanasstarcgs

My new msa ocs and my msa ocs belongs to Me

For @sfcabanasstarcgs and @mysteryideasgroup

#her msa ocs #her new msa ocs #my msa ocs #my new msa ocs #msa x wng au

[nekromania]

Continuing with @y0u-f4il3d-m3 from here

Kado listened for a moment, taking everything in. Ah- so that’s it. Of course she’d be at odds with him then.

The kettle whistled and Sora moved it off the burner, shutting it off. She poured the hot water into the mug to let it steep.

“I’m sure the two of you will work through things. I wouldn’t expect it to be easy, however. Though, on the matter of Yomiuri. I’m not familiar enough to give any insight.” Kado pat Mika’s head before leaving the kitchen.

“Get some rest. You were very insistent that I do the same. It seems those roles are now reversed.” He disappears around the corner. Leaving the two of them alone. He didn’t feel it necessary to meddle too much. It would be better for Mika to figure things out with Sora by himself.

#int:mikado sannoji #y0u-f4il3d-m3 #curious coder #//kado just like #//(ah. i see. that’s a huge mistake. i know why she’s mad at you now) #//says the other virgin who has very little to no interaction with women and only learned through lots of reading #//this man is so awkward and has the hardest time socializing

[rosesutherlandwrites]

Heads Up Seven Up Tag!

Thank you so much to both @jibrilstevenson and @laurysilvers for tagging me! (I feel like I got tagged by someone else too, but now I can’t find it in my notes for the life of me)

I think this has made the rounds of most of my friends already because I’ve been so slow getting around to it, so if there’s anyone following me who hasn’t got a tag yet who wants to play, please take this as a tag from me and share a snippet from a WIP!

Thanks to @milfbahorel for saying they wanted something from A SWEET STING OF SALT, since it’s changed so much from when they last saw it (the very first draft!) to now (a real live book releasing spring ‘24). For context, this conversation between Jean and her best friend Laurie takes place just after New Year’s 1833. Jean’s been meddling in her neighbours affairs, and the situation has taken a TURN, leading to an argument between her and her mentor Anneke about if it’s safe for Jean to return to her own home outside of town.

“There's no talking you out of this thing, is there?”

Jean caught her breath, pressing her back to the wall beside the kitchen door before she realized it was only Laurie. Anneke must have gone to bed, but her son was still up, sitting alone in the dark parlour, staring into the last orange embers that remained in the fireplace. Their shifting light deepened the lines in his face, turning him haunted and fey. “Can't sleep?”

Jean shook her head. “You either?” She pulled the blanket she had wrapped around her shoulders tighter. “I shouldn't have said that, before. About her not being my mother. She's always been as good as.”

“She'll forgive you; you know she will.” Laurie turned to look at her, throwing his face into shadow. “You can't push everybody away, Jean.”

Laurie had only been refusing to talk to anyone about anything real for the best part of two weeks himself. Jean almost said pot calling kettle, but caught herself, thinking better of it. She’d already let her mouth run quite enough for one day. She squinted at the mantle clock, but it was too dark to make out the hands. “What time is it?”

“Late.”

“Don't be an ass.”

Laurie sniffed, and went back to staring sullenly into the fireplace. He didn't say anything else, so Jean went through to the kitchen and poured herself the glass of water she'd come down for from the jug beside the pump. She wasn't going to push Laurie if he didn't want to talk, and he'd have done the same for her.

“G'night, Laur,” she said, starting back up the stairs.

“I'll take you out in the morning.”

Jean stopped.

“I’ll borrow the wagon from Burgoyne's. But I'm coming out there to visit you a couple times a week if you won't let me stay. At least until we know for sure nothing's going to come of this whole mess with Silber and his wife.”

“Laurie—”

“That's my condition, Red. It was bad enough before, you all the way out there on your own where anything could happen and no one'd know for days, Ma’s right about that. But as long as you let me check on things, I'll back you with her.” Laurie shifted in his seat, reaching for the brass poker beside the hearth. “I can tell how important it is to you, being out there for your... for Muirin.”

Jean supposed it might work, him coming out to visit. After all, he'd not been home in ages, and everyone knew they were as good as siblings. It would look a lot less suspect than him setting up permanent camp in her house, at any rate. Hopefully it would settle Anneke's nerves some, too. “All right,” she said. “Thanks, Laurie. I knew you'd understand.”

“Right,” he said, quiet. “Go get some sleep, Red.”

Jean left him sitting in the dark parlour before the fireplace, pushing the last glowing coals about with the poker, like peas on a half empty plate.

#writing tag game #ASSOS #a sweet sting of salt #Jean and Laurie #my writing #rose writes #thanks for the tags!