#y'all mind if i just do self reblogs for a week or something

[ak4e7a]

i hate valentine’s day — boyfriend!hoon x reader

It's pretty self-explanatory. But one person is determined to change your mind.

wc: 2.1k (this was supposed to be short and then i blinked and now i’m here)

cw: fluff, slight angst if you read it sideways i guess, smut, virgin!reader, unprotected sex, lots of pet names bc hoon is a loverboy end of story

author's note: WHEEWWW my first full drabble on here! i hope y'all enjoy and please please please let me know if you do <3 likes and comments and reblogs are super appreciated ♡ happy Valentine's Day!

It’s just a capitalist holiday designed to sell flowers and chocolates and give people a reason to start a fight in their already unhappy relationship. Your friends had heard you say that time and time again, year after year, and they were almost wholeheartedly convinced that you really did not enjoy a holiday centered around love.

The truth, however, was the opposite. You loved it—the pink hearts, the stuffed animals, the candy, the red roses, the romantic gestures. You were just… bitter that you’d been spending all of the past Valentine’s days with a card and a bar of your favorite chocolate that your mom would either give to you in person or mail to your apartment once you’d moved out for college. 

You didn’t want to be one of those people that liked Valentine’s Day with a nonchalance about themselves and droned on and on about how it could also be interpreted as a day of “self-love”. You could do a lot of self-love with a rose toy and an hour of uninterrupted time locked in your room. But a rose toy wouldn’t be able to laugh at a rom-com with you, and you’d probably get looked at funny if you walked around the mall holding it in your hand for everyone to gawk at.

Did you hate seeing happy couples? Maybe.

Did that hate go away once you found yourself somehow in a relationship with the quiet boy from your statistics class? The boy who you, at first, thought seemed cold and uninterested in anything but the assignments? Just a little bit.

You told Sunghoon last week that he didn’t have to do anything, that he shouldn’t waste his paycheck from his part-time campus job on gifts when it wasn’t even Christmas or your birthday, and he’d already gotten you something for your 100 day anniversary a month ago, anyways. You hammered it home with the same speech that you’d given your friends since you learned what capitalism was.

And all he did was nod his head with a thoughtful, “Hmm,” and adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose before you turned as red as the roses you’d hope he’d still get you anyways and went back to typing away at your laptop, allowing the white noise of the library to drown out your racing thoughts.

Now it’s the morning of the 14th, and you wake up in your bed, alone. You sigh, maybe Sunghoon had gone home already even though neither of you have a class today. Trudging to the bathroom, you brush your teeth and wash your face before returning to bed to sulk and stare at the wall. 

You mentally kicked yourself, this was your fault, why did you tell your first and only boyfriend you didn’t give a shit about Valentine’s Day—a holiday primarily meant for couples? Now, if you were lucky and your relationship happens to last until next year, would the next Valentine’s Day also go uncelebrated? What about your one-year anniversary? What about—

And then your door creaks open. And you scream.

Sunghoon screams, too, almost dropping the mountain of bags he’s holding.

“Why are you screaming?” Sunghoon yells, stumbling to regain his balance as he walks towards the bed. “You scared the shit out of me!”

“Because I was under the assumption that I was alone in the house!” you exclaim, although now your fear is mixed with excitement as you scan his muscled arms wrapped around all the stuff he’s carrying.

“Oh,” he says, more quiet now. “You thought I left and wouldn’t come back?”

“Yeah,” you reply sheepishly. “I thought… I thought…”

“That I wouldn’t do anything for Valentine’s Day just because you went on that long-ass tirade in the library last week?”

You frown, eyebrows knitted together. But you’re not upset at him, no, the entire reason you let yourself fall for him was because he was always so understanding. You could feel yourself falling even more because he didn’t fall for your pathetic attempt at being a “chill, low-maintenance” girlfriend. “I don’t deserve you,” you say.

Sunghoon sets the bags on the rug beside your bed and sits beside you, immediately pulling you into his embrace. “That’s not true. You put up with a loser like me.”

“Hey,” you sniffle. “You’re my loser. Which makes you not-a-loser.”

“Alright,” he chuckles. “Whatever you say.”

You like him. You like him so much. You like the way he dresses (including his glasses), you like every single different cologne he uses, you like the way his hair falls in his face, you like the way he scrunches his nose when you offer him a bite of your mint choco ice cream, you like the way he accepts the chocolate toothpaste taste because it makes you happy to share snacks with him. You like the way he switches to his wired earphones instead of his big headphones when he studies with you so you can listen to music with him when you study. You like him. You like him a lot. In fact, you—

“I love you,” you blurt out, and the wide-eyed look he gives you makes you slap your hand over your mouth in some sort of vain attempt to get the words back in where they came from.

But just like toothpaste, once it’s squeezed out of the tube, you can’t put it back in.

Unless, of course, you had a syringe or a pipette or something but that’s neither here nor there, because you just told Park Sunghoon, your former statistics partner, Park Sunghoon, the best part-time barista on campus, Park Sunghoon, your (somewhat) new boyfriend, that you love him for the first time.

And to make it extra corny, you’ve told him on Valentine’s Day, the day you’ve adamantly lied about hating.

Sunghoon finally grins, his pearly white teeth (that you also like so much) on full display. “I knew it.”

“What?”

“I knew you liked Valentine’s Day, you little liar,” he teases, playfully flicking your forehead.

“Ugh,” you groan, falling back on your pillows. “Go home for real this time if you’re going to gloat.”

Sunghoon crawls over you, his face inches away from yours. “For the record, though, I love you, too. Lies and all.”

“Sunghoon,” you whine, trying to push at his chest. “Stop embarrassing me!”

“Sorry, sorry.” As he presses apologetic kisses to your cheek, you feel something else press against your leg.

“Hoon,” you repeat. “Are you seriously hard right now?”

“Yeah, ‘cause my girlfriend just told me she loves me.”

You smile. “Really? You’re easier than I—”

He shuts you up with a kiss. Then two. Then three. Then four. Then finally it evolves into a full-on makeout session, with your hands tangled in his hair and his hips nestled between your thighs. His glasses are on your nightstand; he’d taken them off after they were getting in his way of kissing you.

“Want it,” you murmur, as if you didn’t just tease your boyfriend for being easy to turn on. “Wanna do it...”

You figure since you’ve already confessed your feelings, losing your virginity to your boyfriend who you’re definitely madly in love with is a good idea. (Spoiler: it is.)

Now he hovers over you, looking at you with hearts in his eyes. "Relax for me, okay, baby? It's gonna hurt a little bit. Just say the word and I'll stop."

"O-okay, Hoonie."

He plants a soft kiss on your forehead before taking his shaft in his hand, pumping it twice before lining it up with your entrance. "Gonna put my cock in you now, baby... oh... ah, fuck... 's better than I imagined... So tight, even after I've prepped you... You're squeezing around my tip, you okay, sweetheart?"

You nod, biting your lip as he stretches you with his thick girth. "'M okay, Hoonie, 's just big, so big..."

"You're being such a good girl for me, baby. 'M gonna push it all the way inside you now, okay? Just breathe." One of his hands skims down your body, reaching in between you two to stroke at your clit. The pleasurable friction against your nerves dulls out the pain of him breaking your hymen, but you cry out nonetheless.

"Ah! Hoonie, it hurts," you whimper, your chest heaving and nails digging into his back. 

"'M sorry, baby, we can stop now if you want. I don't mind—"

"No!! No, please, just... don't move yet, please? Need t'get used to—fuck—you inside..."

"Alright, baby. I'll keep still." He kisses your cheek, petting your hair gently. Then he looks down at you, straight into your eyes. He's so beautiful, it's mesmerizing. "You're such a good girl, aren't you? So pretty and perfect for me... you're getting my cock so wet, baby. Want me to make you cum like this? Make you feel better?"

"Y-yes please!"

He leans back until his head is just above where you’re connected, and you watch his abs flex in that position. He spits on your clit, rubbing it in slow, languid circles. Softly, he asks, "you're such a sweet little girl, anything else you want, love?"

You clench around him at the pet name, your entire body flushing with warmth. "Um... can you... um..."

"Oh, I know," he smirks, his free hand moving up to toy with your nipples. "Does it feel good with my cock inside you, baby? Gonna cum while you're stuffed full of me?"

"Yes, so good, Hoonie, thank you!" You squirm a little, unintentionally grinding yourself against his dick, and the movement makes him groan. 

"Fuck," he says under his breath. "You're so cute... and you're so hot, you don't even know it... that's it, pretty girl, cum whenever you want. you earned it."

"Hoonie," you keen, back arching off the bed as you orgasm around him. "can you m-move, please?"

"Yeah, baby, you like being stretched by me? Gonna let me fuck you open, sweetheart?"

"Y-yeah... y'can move now, Hoonie."

"God," he chokes out, thrusting shallowly. "You're sucking me in so good, baby." He puts a hand over your lower abdomen, pressing down. "Can you feel me right there?"

You squeal as the tip of his dick rubs firmly against your g-spot. "Y-yes! 'S big, so big, hoonie!"

“You're so tight, princess, gonna make me cum so soon already, fuck, pussy feels like heaven..."

"So... big," you gasp, staring up at him in adoration. He's so handsome. 

He reaches down and tenderly cups your cheek before leaning in and kissing you softly. "Taking me like a good girl, baby... 'm I making you feel good?"

“Yes, yes,” you manage to stutter out, legs wrapping around his slender waist.

"Gonna cum... need to pull out, baby, can I cum—fuck! Can I cum on you, baby, please?"

"Yes! Yesyesyes! Cum on me, Hoonie, wanna feel it!"

"Where... where do you want my cum, princess?" he pants, sliding his cock out of you and stroking himself.

"Cum on my pussy, Hoonie!"

He groans, and the two of you look down and watch as he cums right over your core, the milky essence dripping down onto the bed. Despite the mess, he immediately lies down beside you, pulling you into his arms like you’re about to go back to sleep.

You feel good. Maybe better than good. Definitely better than good. You can hear his heartbeat when you rest your head on his chest.

“Aw, fuck,” Sunghoon mutters into the crown of your head. “I think the ice in your drink melted.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I went out to get your gifts from my apartment, and I got you an iced matcha from that one place you like on the way back.”

“I’ll drink it anyways… but you didn’t have to get me any gifts,” you mumble, still trying to stay true to your lie, even though Sunghoon has already seen right through it. But you definitely mean the next sentence. “Just spending the day with you is enough for me.”

“I know, I know. But I wanted to. I never want you to feel like I only do things for you because you ask me to. I want you to know that I do them because I love you.”

Okay. Maybe you really did hate Valentine’s Day before.

But not anymore. You feel good. You feel great. You’re loved, and you’re in love.

You look up at him and he kisses you on the forehead before you repeat, “I love you, too.”

#sunghoon smut #park sunghoon smut #sunghoon hard thoughts #sunghoon hard hours #enha smut #🀄️drabbles #sunghoon x reader

[little-diable]

Texas - Dean Winchester

I had to post this today, simply because I'm so so so obsessed with the header @deathofpeaceofmind created and y'all needed to see it. This is sad, but please give it a chance (I know y'all don't like reading my angsty fics). Lyrics from the song "Texas" by Jessie Murph. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this. Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: When a fling turns into something more, but life forces you to part ways.

Warnings: 18+, smut, oral (f), angst, heartbreak, crying

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader (about 2k words)

You got all the good shit, and I got consequences, I'm cold, I'm lost, I'm ruined, and you go back to Texas

The sun was drenching the sky in a deep orange, a colour so vivid, Dean wasn‘t sure if he was awake or still caught in a dream. Silence engulfed him and Sammy, only Baby‘s sounds echoed through the air, doing little to drown out the confusion ringing in his ears, the messy thoughts he couldn’t shake off. 

It hadn’t even been an hour since Dean had parted from her, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, not daring to wake her as he left her apartment behind, very well knowing he won’t ever get to see her again. Her, the woman that had instantly caught his attention the second he had entered that one godforsaken bar two weeks ago. Her, the woman that had ended up in Baby‘s backseat only hours after Dean had bought her the first of many drinks to come. Her, the woman his heart had called out to, and was now mourning.

Fuck, he had been stupid, so unbelievably stupid, and yet he hadn’t been able to pull away. He should have left her that night, shouldn’t have exchanged phone numbers, but he hadn’t been able to let her go, not without knowing that he’d get to see her again soon. (Y/n) had taken his heart hostage like a wanderer getting lost in unknown territories, ending up in the grasp of their enemy. 

But fate had never been kind to Dean Winchester, he hadn't been created to live a life filled with love, no, he was following the call of death, of all things coming to an end. An end (y/n) wouldn't see for years to come.

“Dean,” Sammy spoke his brother's name, carefully – just a whisper, not daring to rip his brother out of his trance without a warning, not used to seeing his piercing green eyes filled with tears. “It’s about her, isn’t it?”

Dean couldn’t help but scoff, cursing his brother for asking a question this stupid. Of course it was about her, about (y/n), the woman his drunken self would probably have married if their paths had crossed in Vegas. Sammy wasn’t oblivious, he had shared a few conversations with (y/n), understanding why Dean was that intrigued by her. And yet he still found himself surprised about the way Dean was now reacting to their departure. 

(Y/n) certainly hadn’t been the first woman Dean had found himself crushing on, certainly not the first he had wanted to stick around, but something was different this time. Something so awfully heartbreaking the older Winchester brother directed all his anger towards his stupid heart. Fuck, could one even fall in love, within a few hours, days? 

You came in like a one-man show, out of town, had a couple years on me, knew that shit I didn't know, and it felt so real that I couldn't let go, while you ran me around like a motherfuckin' rodeo

While Dean was driving through blurring by towns and areas he had crossed before, (y/n) was still laying in her bed, glassy eyes directed up ahead, staring at her ceiling. Her heart was clenching in her chest, a pain so unfamiliar (y/n)’s mind began to wonder if the past two weeks had happened or if it had just been a trick of her bored brain. 

Dean Winchester had ripped her heart from her chest, linking his together with hers to form a bond that was now pushing her into soaring waves of sadness, of confusion, and of anger. It felt like those movies, the ones she'd cry about on days where everything got too much and she needed to let go of the sadness bottled up inside of her. Stupid movies that had now caught up with her. She was paying the price of a crime she hadn't committed. But perhaps it had been her fault after all, perhaps it had been her fault for falling in love with a man she barely knew. A man with eyes so green her mind took her back to her childhood days, the carefree hours where she'd get lost in meadows and forests she no longer visited.

How dare he let go, how dare he leave her behind without saying much but a halfhearted apology that now rang in her ears like a song she couldn’t stop thinking of. 

With her eyes squeezed shut, (y/n) tried to get rid of her memories, trying to forget the past two weeks that have felt all too real, so full of an emotion she had stopped believing in years ago. An unlucky try that only pushed her further into her misery. 

“Don’t you dare close your eyes, darling.” Fuck, that grin would be the death of her. Dean was hovering over her, pressing (y/n) further into the comfortable mattress of her big bed. He was nestling between her thighs, tongue running through her folds with skilled movements, very well knowing how to touch a woman. (Y/n) didn’t allow her thoughts to focus on the women he had once touched, wondering who had taught him to eat out a woman like this, rather trying to relish in the warm contact, on the orgasm that was slowly but surely coming upon her. 

“Christ, you’re too good at this.” Her voice trembled, eyes struggling to stay open, focused on his handsome features, on the freckles lingering on his skin like star formations filling the night sky. A view so breathtakingly beautiful one couldn’t help but marvel at it. 

One of his hands found hers, interlacing their fingers to hold onto her as (y/n) let go, back arched off her mattress, toes curled. An intense sensation swapped through her, filling every pore of her trembling body, making her choke on her cries as if this was the first time she ever got to experience something like this. 

Her heart was roaring in her chest, a sound so unfamiliar (y/n)’s mind wondered if she was still caught in her own body. But Dean didn’t give her any time to ponder over her thoughts, crawling up her body with a smirk growing on his lips, kissing her before another breath could be inhaled into her aching lungs. She could taste herself on his tongue, once again reminded of their closeness, of the bond (y/n) found herself clinging to, praying that Dean wouldn’t ever leave her again. 

“Ready for another round?” 

A cry wrecked through her, hands holding her face, trying to dry the tears that wouldn’t stop rolling. The pain that stuck to her was too much for her body, not knowing how to get rid of it, how to let go of the waves that tried to pull her under, drowning the helpless woman. Fuck, Dean Winchester had broken her heart, without even giving her one good explanation. 

You go back to Texas like it didn't happen, like I'm not here with all of this mess, and you drunk and out and you wildin' out

“Does she know?” Once again did Sammy’s voice break the silence, not used to sitting in Baby without any music rumbling through the speakers. Dean’s eyes hadn’t left the road once, not looking at his younger brother once – no matter how much Sammy moved in his seat, trying to catch his brother’s gaze. 

“No.” It was one simple word. A word that pieced together the puzzle, finally falling into place, though so suddenly, without another warning. Deep down Sammy had hoped that Dean had explained their profession to (y/n), something that would tie the two together, giving them a reason to cross paths again. 

“But why? She would have understood. What did you say to her?” Pain. An emotion so blinding began to fill Dean’s system, forcing the memory of yesterday evening to resurface. 

“What do you mean by one last time?” (Y/n) was placed in Dean’s lap, naked body pressed against his. The two had shared a kiss that had left them breathless seconds ago, a sensation that had been interrupted by Dean’s words, forcing (y/n) to halt in her movements. 

“We are leaving tomorrow morning, Sammy and I.” She froze, trying to search his eyes – without any luck. Dean had his green eyes focused on her hands, fumbling with the fingers that had touched every inch of his body in the past days. He didn’t dare meet her gaze, very well aware of the pain that was now swimming in her pupils, the same emotion he tried to swallow down. An unlucky try that left him choking on the breaths trying to suffocate him.

“What? Don’t fuck with me, Dean.” She let go of him, crawling from his lap to reach for her oversized shirt, suddenly feeling the urge to hide herself from his eyes. It took him another breath to reply, trying to sort through his thoughts. 

“We got another job offer we had to take, I’m sorry.” Tears welled up in her eyes, raising her hands to momentarily cover her face and the expression of pain tugging on her features. An uncomfortable silence began to fill her bedroom, the room that had been filled with sounds of pleasure just minutes ago. 

“I, uhm, I need a few moments.” Her quivering limbs did little to support her, guiding (y/n) out of her bedroom, away from Dean and the tears welling up in his eyes only just now. 

“There’s nothing to understand, Sam. Our lives aren’t made for relationships, I’d rather have her hate me than end up hurt because of this fucking shitshow we are damned with.” Dean’s voice had a dangerous growl to it, trying to stop the conversation before he’d start overthinking once again. He had made his peace, even though he wasn’t able to swallow down his pain rising in his throat like bile. 

“I’m sorry, Dean. I really am.” 

“Will you stay for a bit longer?” Her whispers reverberated through the quiet bedroom, head placed on his chest, getting lost in the uneven beats of his heart. His big hand stroked her spine, forcing goosebumps to rise on her skin. 

“Of course.” Dean had a hard time speaking up, trying not to choke on the sadness he was overwhelmed with. Both knew that he’d leave in a few hours, forcing (y/n) to wake in an empty bed, hand searching for the warm body she’d never forget. 

“Thank you, Dean.” Both knew that she wasn’t just thanking him for sticking around for a few hours longer. Both knew that she was thanking him for the love he had elicited deep inside of her. Both knew that she was thanking him for the time he had spent with her, momentarily making her forget about the struggles both were stuck in. 

“I’d do it all over again.” 

You got all the good shit, and I got consequences, I'm cold, I'm lost, I'm ruined, and you go back to Texas

#Dean Winchester smut #Dean Winchester imagine #supernatural imagine #dean winchester x reader

[she-is-juniper]

temptation greets you like your naughty friend (joel miller x reader) // chapter one

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader chapter title: the arrangement summary: joel miller likes to be made to feel in control; reader like to be made to feel helpless. thus, an arrangement is born, no strings attached. but there’s more than meets the eye to this gruff survivor.... This story takes place in the Boston QZ roughly 10 years after the outbreak begins, and Reader and Joel are business partners in the illegal smuggling trade. word count: 5K rating: E (Explicit) ***18+ only. minors DNI or you will be blocked. content/warnings: there’s a lot…. dom!Joel, no use of y/n, unprotected sex, established relationship, age gap (reader is in her 20s, Joel in his late 40s), oral s*x (f receiving), squ*rting, some degradation/humiliation but in a lighthearted way, some begging, a splash of a “sir” kink, some angst and resolution, porn with a bit of a plot, spanking, power play (all of this is consensual). Also Tess exists but she and Joel are not together a/n: ah, yes, the fanfic to end a hiatus... ♡ I recommend reading this one before bed so you can, yknow, have nice wet dreams about it while you sleep. to my long time readers/fans: hiii i missed y'all! to my new readers/fans: enjoyyy and please reach out to introduce yourself! i’m always looking to make new friends ◡̈ ((I do not claim to own the last of us or any other affiliated names or fictional events. Other details, such as names, locations, and events, are also fictionalized. Please note that the representations of body types in my moodboard are not intended to exclude anybody of any race, ethnicity, or body shape. And please, for the love of all that is holy, comment/reblog/send asks if you want to see more of my writing—it’s the only form of repayment i ask for!!! thank you in advance!))

———

A hardened man like Joel Miller has a lot to offer a woman like you. Particularly in the form of desperate, mind-numbing sex.

The kind of sex that makes you forget your own name. Makes you forget the sting of whatever injuries you’d suffered this week at the hands of thugs and hunters. Not to mention, makes you forget, even if just for an hour or two, the fact that you’re living in the aftermath of the apocalypse in a world savaged by infected monsters.

That’s the kind of sex you and Joel both crave. The kind that takes away the crushing weight of repressed memories and feelings. The kind of sex where there’s nothing left to think about but the way his cock fills you up and his lips steal the breath from your lungs. The kind of sex that, after a day’s worth of decision fatigue as Tess’s right-hand woman as a contraband smuggler in the Boston QZ, you finally don’t have to make a single decision for yourself, as your pleasure is entirely in Joel’s expert hands.

Just sex, nothing else. Plain and simple. That’s the arrangement as you know it. No cuddling in bed after, no exchanging tender kisses, no talking about your feelings or any bullshit like that. Just rough, dirty sex to get your minds off the shittiness of your lives.

No shame. Everyone who’s survived the pandemic thus far has found their own unique means of self-medication. For some, it’s drugs, or alcohol, or murder. For you and Joel, it’s fucking.

As for when the encounters would take place, it depends on the day or week. Today, after a particularly shitty week for the both of you, all it takes is a mutual look shared from across the room in the rations distribution center.

You’re near the front of the rations line when you spot him coming in toward the back. Joel surveys the crowded hall, the line of his brows furrowed into his signature harsh scowl. You meet the man’s gaze with glassy eyes of your own. In that moment you swear you notice his frown soften as he looks at you, although a tendon tightens on his temple. It’s a look that confirms he’s had just as god awful a week as you had, although there’s something more there today that you can’t quite put your finger on. 

You look away and sigh, wincing a little at the pain from a bruised rib that’s only just started to heal. Your injury’s pretty mild, though, and nothing compared to the state you’d left the other guy in. Oh, well. At least you got a few extra ration cards out of it, which you now hand to the FEDRA officer in exchange for a box of supplies and provisions. Mostly non-perishable food, but there’s also some medicines, toiletries, socks, soap—thank fuck, more soap.

On your way out of the hall, you meet Joel’s gaze once more. Not a word is exchanged, but with an almost imperceptible nod of his chin, you know you’ll be hearing his knock at your door at 2300 sharp. God knows you need his specific methods of distraction right now.

– – –

Three raps of his knuckles against your apartment door at 2300 exactly, and Joel’s all over you.

It happens so fast. As soon as you open the door, Joel seizes you by the arms and spins your body with his, slamming your body to the door with his own momentum to close it shut. Your sore rib burns from the impact and you hiss, “Ouch, asshole.”

“Toughen up, princess,” he growls. There’s nothing endearing about the pet name, it’s not like that. In fact, he says it almost demeaningly, which is on par for your relationship with the smuggler. But there’s a primal sort of desperation in the tone of his voice, and your arousal at that prospect spreads over your whole body and finds a home right in between your legs.

Joel’s hands wrench your arms above your head and pin them there as his mouth attacks yours, effectively muffling the surprised squeal that emits from your throat. His mouth is hot, his grown-out stubble scratching the delicate skin of your face in a delicious contrast, his breath faintly spiced from whiskey. You melt into him, arching your body into his, and a surly grunt resonates from his throat. He gathers your wrists in one hand pinned to the door and brings his free hand down to the nape of your neck, not so gently pulling at the base of your hair. He pulls away from the kiss and regards your exposed neck, where you swear he can see your pulse thumping in your throat. You wish he would kiss you there, but he holds back.

“Still on the mend?” he asks, bringing his hand down to your ribcage and barely brushing against the bruise. 

“Nothin’ I can’t handle.”

“Tell me if you want me to be gentler,” he says.

You almost scoff. The name “Joel Miller” and the word “gentle” don’t go together. Nothing about that man is gentle. And nothing about what you and he do together behind closed doors has ever been or will ever be gentle. Part of you wonders if Joel would rather go on home than fuck you gently.

Besides, you don’t want it to be gentle. Not one bit.

You slip one of your arms out from where he’s pinning them against the door. You grab his hand and slide it from your rib under your shirt to your breast, squeezing yourself with his palm. “I’m tougher than you think, Miller,” you purr.

It’s your way of giving him permission to do with you what he wants.

“Are you, now?” he drawls. He takes your initiative and runs with it, pinching your nipple between his calloused thumb and forefinger, just a little at first, and then much harder. You gasp, heat flooding your lower stomach. “You think you can handle me tonight, huh, darlin’?”

You reach for his crotch, feeling the erection you know he’s probably had all night, and smile at the strained breath he releases. “Should be asking you the same question, don’t you think?” you say. 

It’s a thoroughly bratty response, not to mention completely loaded, and you and Joel both seem to know it. Joel calls the shots in these encounters, not you. Which is exactly how you both like it.

Joel hitches your leg up and situates his hips in between your legs. You can feel his dick pressed against your inner thigh now. He tangles his hands in your hair and kisses you fiercely again. The only time Joel ever kisses you is before he fucks you. Never after. You’re sure that somewhere, buried deep down inside you, you secretly wish Joel would kiss you after sex, too. But that simply isn’t what this arrangement is about. 

You hang onto the moment as long as possible, lacing your fingers behind his neck and pulling him even closer. His once neatly slicked back hair now mussed from your fingers, and his skin smells like firewood and soap.

Outside, the female military voice recording announcing the strict enforcement of curfew echoes through the QZ, but you and Joel barely notice. You’re lost in him, the feel of his body, the touch of his rough hands, and allow yourself to fall into the mindless, primal motions of sex.

You and Joel have done this many times over the past few months. Sometimes, when all was quiet and going relatively well in the QZ, you didn’t feel the need to visit him quite as often. But your need to see each other only increasing in frequency when things seemed to get worse… and things surely have gotten a lot fucking worse lately. FEDRA cracking down on everyday civilian freedoms. Rising animosity between the factions of smugglers within the QZ, causing many of Tess’s deals for ammo and pills going south more often than not. Firefly attacks within the city walls with no regard for innocent lives. Oh, and not to mention the ever-present problem of the growing number of infected just outside the city… 

All of which to say, you and Joel have been seeing a lot of each other as of late. 

Clothes fall to the floor. Joel’s new shirt that must have come with his set of provisions today, your favorite holey sweater you can’t bear to toss, his pants, your pants, shoes and socks. The next thing you know, you’re flat on your bed beneath him. 

In your past life, would you have been with someone like Joel if you knew of all the bad things he’s done? Would it have overpowered the intense attraction you felt toward him, causing you to be repulsed by him? Probably then.

But not now. You don’t care what he’s done in the name of survival. You both have committed your fair share of inhumanities. But this is just how your lives turned out. Neither you nor Joel had chosen the life of smugglers, but the perseverance to survive takes over one way or another. 

But none of that matters right now. All that matters is the need to eliminate any space and barrier between your hot, needy body and his. 

He’s a menacing sight with his intimidatingly large muscles, the result of nearly five decades worth of manual labor, and the numerous scars peppered over his skin from countless tussles. He looms above you like a thundercloud, like a predatory cat prowling for its meal. You think to yourself how lucky you are to be on his side as an ally in your nefarious affairs—and not just an ally, but a business partner of all things. Because someone like Joel Miller would be a scary as fuck to have as an enemy.

Joel hooks his thumbs under the hems of your underwear and wastes no time to yank them down and off your legs. He pries your legs apart as far as you’ll let him, nearly drooling at the sight of you completely naked for him. You almost feel self-conscious, but you know if you try to shy away or close your legs now, it would do absolutely no good. Joel’s a very single-minded man. When he puts his mind to something, there’s absolutely no stopping him.

It always takes you aback when Joel doesn’t immediately penetrate you, especially with that glint in his eyes like the one he has now. But he never rushes that part, not even when you really wish he would. Instead, as per usual, he dips down and buries his face in your pussy.

“Joel,” you whine out his name, your body lurching—away from him? Closer toward him? You can’t be sure. All you know is that his mouth on your pussy like this feels so intense that it would be impossible not to squirm. You wonder if he does this for himself or for you. “You really don’t have to,” you manage to get out.

The look of sheer wrath he gives you…it’s as if you’d just told him you’d given away all the contraband he’d smuggled to FEDRA. “You think I only do this for you?” he rasps.

“I don’t know," you squeak out with a nervous laugh. "I mean, I know you do it every time, I just wanted to make sure you didn’t feel obligated—”

“Obligated?” Joel barks a laugh. “Don’t be so naive. You think I would eat your pussy if I didn’t want to?” 

Wetness pooled at your core. “Fuck, Joel.”

“I wanna make you squirm first,” he growls. “Wanna make you so needy and wet for me that you don’t think about anything else.” His breath fanned out over your pussy, and you shivered, your thighs squeezing together. He pries them apart again. “You say some bullshit like that again, I’ll tie your ankles to the goddamn bedposts so you can’t even think about closing your legs. You hear me?”

Your eyes widen and your stomach flutters. Does he not know how much the idea of that turns you on? “Yes,” you croak.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes sir,” you correct yourself.

“Good girl.”

He doesn’t need to tie your ankles to the bedposts when he’s got the leverage of his body weight to press your legs apart. His mouth is on you again in an instant and you gasp embarrassingly loudly, falling flat against the mattress.

He eats you out with the fervor and desperation of a parched man finding water, pressing his entire face into you as though he couldn’t possibly get close enough. Joel’s lips trap your clit in a tight suction, his tongue swirling in practiced circles in a way that makes your hairline break out in a sweat. You moan too loudly again, reaching for the nearest pillow to stifle the sound for the sake of your poor neighbors. 

Just when he’s gotten into a groove, Joel releases the suction of his mouth with a pop and buries his whole face even lower, his tongue drawing a lavish line up your entrance before moving inside you, his nose pressed against your clit. He’s absolutely ravenous, and you have no semblance of control left in your body. Your legs jolt, and he presses them even further apart in response. The sparks at the pit of your stomach bloom and bloom.

“Fuck, baby, you taste so good,” he moans into you. You moan in response, tangling your hands in his silvering hair. Baby, that one is new. Baby’s almost too sweet coming from a man like Joel’s lips. A little red flag goes up in your mind but you quickly forget all about it as he continues to lap at you.

Joel breaks away only to wet his finger with his saliva and you watch in awe as he pushes it into you. You see stars as he curls his adept middle finger up toward your belly button. You dig your nails into his arms and keen his name again.

The waves of pleasure grow and grow, like a tsunami on the horizon approaching fast and sure, and your breathing grows erratic. Joel is relentless, tireless, his lips finding your clit again, and it’s as if he knows he’s found the sweet spot, knows the exact speed and intensity to stay at to push you over the edge. His eyes close as if in total bliss, seemingly motionless, and only you as the recipient of this unholy worship could ever know just how expertly fast his tongue is moving against your clit. The combination of that with his digit curling up into you over and over breaks you of any resolve you might have had left.

You should warn him you're going to come. You have before. But you know how well he knows you now. He knows you're right on the edge. So he presses his palm to the soft part of your stomach, just below your belly button, and that does it. He knows me so goddamn well.

You come completely undone, the waves of your orgasm furiously overtaking your whole body. You arch your back and clench your walls around Joel’s finger, unable to keep from writhing in pleasure, unable to hold back the choked moans from your throat.

“That’s right, ride it out, darlin’,” Joel praises you. “Love feeling you squeeze my finger so tight. Good girl.” He sits up and watches your body come down from the high, gently coaxing about what’s left of your convulsions with his finger. But even once they subside, he doesn’t pull it out, instead continuing to curling it into you again over and over. You weren’t expecting a break—Joel never needs one, never gives one unless you ask—but you wonder how on earth you’re going to survive this. With a desperate, pleading sound, you peer up at him in disbelief.

“It’s too much,” you whimper. 

“Do you want me to stop?”

You shake your head furiously. Joel almost smiles at that, almost as though he knew your response already. He repositions himself so he’s propped up on his elbow beside your body, his other hand still at your slippery entrance. His finger slides in and out with each movement, the pad of his finger gliding against precisely the right place inside you. It’s a sensation only another person could satisfy in you, and you find yourself silently thanking your lucky stars that Joel knows how to do it so well. He knows your body so well after just a few months, knows exactly what you need is a break from the clitoral stimulation, yet added stimulation elsewhere. 

Pressure builds in your pelvis, a different kind of pressure than before. Your jaw falls open when his tempo picks up. Joel presses his forehead to yours, sharing your breaths, before he moves to your ear and starts whispering.

“Takin’ my finger so well,” he breathes, and goosebumps erupt across your whole body. “Wanna see if you can handle another one?”

You nod breathlessly and he slides his ring finger in with the middle finger. A jolt of energy overtakes your body. Oh, fuck, oh, fuck. The last time he fingered you like this, you had completely soaked the mattress. You had luckily remembered to lay a couple of towels down under the sheets this time, just in case, but still. You’d been humiliated. You hadn’t said anything about it last time, but you knew what had happened, and you knew that he knew.

And now he’s going to make you squirt again. Which means that he likes it. 

Joel sets into a relentless pace and the dreaded pressure grows and grows. “That’s my good little slut,” he growls. “Want you to let go for me, make my fingers wet.”

You can’t help it. The pressure in your core explodes. A slick wetness seeps all over Joel’s fingers and into the sheets around your hips. Joel moans into your neck. You feel yourself turning so hot you break a sweat.

“Oh god,” you moan, suddenly lightheaded, and you cover your face. You feel him wrench your hands away and he stares at you in astonishment.

“Are you…embarrassed?” he gapes.

“Yes,” you respond, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

His face shifts slightly from disbelief into an almost sinister expression. “Look at you. All humiliated at the mess I made you make for me.”

The fact that he takes pleasure in your humiliation turns you on more than you’re willing to admit. “Fuck you, Joel,” you bark back, but there’s no energy left in your voice for malice.

Joel grips your chin harshly, forcing you to look at him. “You don’t call the shots here. If I want you to make a fuckin’ mess for me, then you will.”

If he hadn’t been manhandling you before, he’s manhandling you now, pulling your limp body into the exact position he wants: on your stomach, your thighs pressed together, your ass pointed up at him perfectly.

You realize then that he’s been touching himself for quite some time through his boxers, only now he’s sliding them off his body, revealing his dick, weeping and swollen and angry red. If you had any ounce of energy left in your body, you’d flip yourself over so you were on top and wrap your mouth around it. But he’s faster than you can replenish your energy, and in one feverish motion, he’s mounting you from behind, his dick pressed against the base of your ass.

“Tell me how bad you want me to fuck you raw into these sheets.”

You know Joel, know what he’s doing. He’s playing up the moment, building the anticipation, but he’s also gauging your consent. He’s asking your permission.

“Please,” you mewl. “Please fuck me, sir. I want you so bad.”

“Good,” he responds. “Good girl.” And then he’s plowing his dick into you.

Holy fuck. The momentum of his first thrust pushes you several inches up the bed and you cry out, inviting the mix of pain and pleasure with eagerness. He’s so much fucking bigger than his fingers, even though his fingers are nothing short of girthy themselves.

He pulls out unbearably slow, almost all the way out, until just the ridge of his head remains inside you, before he grips your hips with a fervor and thrusts back into you with a grunt. And again, and again. A rush of emotions floods through you at the feeling…among them, a sense of security, a total trust in him, the reassurance at the knowledge that Joel would stop if you told him you wanted to. 

God, you don’t want him to stop.

“Mine,” he growls, gathering your arms behind your back, and your muscles burn. “You hear me? Your pussy’s fucking mine, sweetheart.”

You have no coherent response, only his name.

Joel uses your bended arms locked behind you as leverage, gripping them with desperation as he rams into you over and over again, taking what’s his. His dick feels unreal inside you, slipping in and out like it’s made for you. The position of your arms plays tricks on your mind, makes you feel trapped in the best way possible, like there’s no escape from this. Which, of course, there is an escape—the simple phrase stop, something you and Joel had agreed upon weeks prior—and yet, the false sense of helplessness is exactly what you’re going for. 

And what is it for Joel that gets him going about this, you wonder briefly? Is it the false sense of control, something he’s felt devoid of in real life for years now? Is it the fact that for just one night, everything that happens will have been something that Joel had direct influence over? Did he need that catharsis of complete control as much as you needed the catharsis of being out of control? You wonder if maybe you and Joel were made to find each other in these awful, bleak times, if maybe though you fight day in and day out about business, if you were made for each other in this way.

A strange sensation along the spine of your back. It’s Joel’s lips, soft and wet along with the scratch of his beard. Juxtaposed with the unforgiving force of his hips crashing into your ass, you melt into him. He's never done that while he fucks you before. Joel releases your arms and kisses your back again, seeming to soak in the feel of your skin on his lips. He moves up to your neck, still mounted on top of you, still sliding in and out of you with a vigor, but his mouth comes to rest by your ear.

“You feel so good, baby,” he whispers. “You’re so beautiful. The most beautiful girl I've ever seen.”

Oh, god. That was tender. You didn’t hate it, but talk about uncharacteristic for Joel Miller. Red flag goes up again. You squash it down, not wanting to kill the moment. You reach behind and comb your fingers through his hair. “Joel, oh my god, Joel.”

Maybe it’s as if he realized he’d breached some unspoken protocol with that lapse in his tough-guy persona, but Joel seems to snap to reality. With a new intensity, he pulls out of you to draw your hips up, propping you up on your knees and elbows. A much less tender, much more primal position. He kneels behind you and brings your hips back to meet his dick again, bottoming out in one motion.

You cry out and arch your back. This new angle is intense. Tender Joel Miller is gone, at least for now. He seals that notion with a hard slap of his palm on your ass.

He fucks you hard and fast and it’s precisely what you want. Waves of desire start to ebb and flow in your pelvis once again. You wince in surprise as you feel Joel bring his head down to bite your shoulder lightly. Nope, nothing tender about this.

“Oh my god, Joel, I’m— you’re gonna make me—”

“Make you what?” Joel demands. “Make you come again, pretty girl?”

You can’t make another sound; you feel so fucked out you could only nod as he brought you closer and closer. But Joel wanted more.

“You heard me, tell me how good I make you feel,” he growled and bit down on your shoulder harder this time. “Tell me you’re gonna come all over my dick.”

Telling Joel anything would be a little hard to do considering he’s fucking you so hard you could hardly breathe let alone speak, but Joel was now hell bent on hearing you. He slaps your ass again, even harder, and your knees nearly buckle. But you manage to locate your voice.

“You feel so good,” you sob out, falling forward onto your elbows while Joel keeps a tight grip on your hips. “I'm gonna come again.”

“You want that?” Joel says in almost a sneer from behind you. “You wanna come for me again, my dirty little slut?”

“Yes, sir,” you say, your voice hitching each time he rams into you, “please, please.”

“Love it when you beg like that for me. So desperate, it’s pitiful. Fuck,” he groans, seeming to somehow swell inside of you even more. Droplets of wetness roll down your thighs, your pleasure mixed with his precum. “You better not come until I say so.”

His request may or may not be plausible, given how fast approaching your orgasm was coming over you. You had no choice but to take him how he wanted you to and try to hold off your orgasm as long as you could. Joel keeps a firm grip on your sides as he snaps his hips, and the explicit slapping sounds of skin on skin fill your bedroom.

“Oh-oh-my-g-god,” you gasp out, moaning with each perfectly angled thrust, nearly in tears from how deep he is. You’re teetering right on the edge, dangerously close to the edge, but you realize then, so is he, if his heavy breathing and moaning is any indication.

“Come on, Joel, baby, cum deep in my pussy, make me yours…” The pet name had just slipped out of your mouth again. Reservations be fucked. If you wanted to be tender and intimate right now, so fucking be it.

Sure enough, Joel gasps and grunts with more bravado than you’d ever heard from him before, as if hearing you call him baby had made him come on command. You feel a flood of warmth gush inside you, filling you up as he stills and drops his head to your shoulder. The final bucking of his hips and the visceral, shuddering whimper that comes from his throat set you off as well. You can’t hold back the cry that comes from somewhere deep in your body. “I’m coming, Joel, I can’t help it—”

“It’s okay, sweetheart, come for me now. I got you. It’s okay.”

You come hard and keep coming for longer than you thought was possible. Explosions of pleasure wrack your body and were it not for Joel holding you up, you’d have collapsed into the mattress. You’re clenching so hard around Joel’s dick that you wonder if it might hurt him, but he doesn’t protest, just moans right along with you.

You’re still trembling from the aftershocks as Joel pulls you up so your back is pressed against his chest and you both take a moment to catch your breath. Joel cups your breasts and kneads them in his hands as he comes down from his high, and in your daze you were dimly aware that he’s peppering several soft kisses along your shoulder blades, humming against your skin.

Again with the intimacy. What is going on?

“Joel?”

“Mmm?”

“Are you...dying or something?”

“What?”

“Or, like, secretly infected or some shit you don’t wanna tell me?”

He huffs, peeling himself off of you. You ignore the feeling of his cum dribbling out of you and turn to look at him. He’s scowling now, to no one’s surprise. 

“What the hell are you talking about?” he barks. Aggravated, yet again. Oh, well, it's not like you were going to get any aftercare from him anyway—not part of the arrangement.

But nor was all that other shit he'd done.

“You’re acting…weird,” you accuse, your heart still pounding from before. 

“I’m not acting weird,” he snaps back, defensive.

“You’re not acting like yourself, is all I mean,” you respond, crossing your arms and legs.

He watches you, that same tendon in his temple tensing up. “I have no idea what the devil you’re talking about,” he mutters, looking away.

“You have no idea what—” you repeat, shaking your head before explaining, “Joel, that was different.”

“What was different?” he asks, his voice gruff. 

“That! The whole…” you say uselessly, gesturing between you and him.

He just stares at you. If he’s catching your drift, he must just be playing dumb now. “I’m gonna go,” he grumbles, standing to slip back on his boxers. “Come find me again when you start makin’ sense and stop drabblin’ on about nonsense.”

“Wait, stop, stop. Stop it, Joel,” you say, gripping his arm. “Jesus, will you let me talk? Why are you trying to run away?”

He glares down at you, his jaw rigid. A few tense seconds pass. “Go ahead,” he says at last, in response to the first question. As for the second question, you figure he’s trying to work that one out himself.

Now that you have his attention, you’re stunned. What exactly was the issue you were trying to bring up? He was being too sweet to you? 

As if you can feel your own defenses coming up around you, you look around for your sweater and underwear, not wanting to be the only one unclothed here. Joel watches you wordlessly as you pull on your clothes, and your resolve grows stronger. 

“That felt different,” you repeat, looking into his eyes for some sign that he agrees with you. “Didn’t it?”

Joel says nothing. In the silent space, your words come spilling out.

“Like… I don’t know, I just feel like something changed tonight. You felt different this time.”

Joel frowns in confusion and looks down at his crotch.

“No, not like that.” You sigh and run a hand through your hair. “It’s the things you…did. And said. It just felt different to me.”

“Like what?” Joel said, still playing dumb. You sigh again in exasperation. Is he really going to make you bring up specific examples?

“I mean, like…the kisses. And…and why’d you call me beautiful?” you insist.

He glowers. “What, so I can’t call you beautiful?”

“No, I—I mean, you can, I just… You’ve never said anything like that to me before,” you respond. He truly hasn't. He's called you sexy, called your pussy pretty, things like that. But he's never leaned down to whisper in your ear that he thinks you're the most beautiful girl in the world while railing the fuck out of you.

"Well, I did now. But I wouldn’t have said anything if I knew you were gonna get all weird about it.”

Jesus, he could be so fucking immature for a man in his late 40s. “It just took me off guard, that’s all.”

“Well, if that’s all, I don’t understand what’s the big problem.”

Why isn’t he understanding? You can’t help it, you explode. “That isn’t what we agreed on, Joel,” you say, your voice more insistent.

“What isn’t?”

“The...kissing, and the calling each other pet names, and the exchanging niceties,” you say emphatically. “Shit like that. That’s not what this arrangement is supposed to be about.” You started this with Joel to avoid your feelings…

Not to catch them for each other.

Joel leans down closer to you, cynicism in his voice as he says, “And what is it that this arrangement’s supposed to be about, then?”

“Sex!” you shout, raising your arms in exasperation. “Just sex!”

Right?

Joel says nothing. He stands and silently puts on the rest of his clothes before giving you the hardest stare you’ve ever seen from him since you met him half a year ago.

“Maybe for you.”

Your mouth goes dry. But before you can think of a response, Joel slips his shoes on and mutters. “I’m gonna go. Don’t come after me tonight.” Without another word, he leaves your dingy apartment, leaving you alone with your jaw on the floor. And in that moment, you realize, you had Joel Miller all wrong.

———

a/n: …i’m kind of embarrassed to put this on the internet but hey at least no one i know follows me so!!! hopefully at least! hahahahah 😭

Thank you so much for reading! I’m dying to hear your thoughts about it! Please note that I write fanfiction for free; my only request for repayment is a genuine expression of your thoughts, opinions, likes/dislikes, and predictions about the story. Whether it’s simply a “Wow, I loved it!”, a keyboard smash, a series of convoluted thoughts in the tags, or even a full-out review, please know that any and all feedback is welcome! 

For real though. Leaving feedback is just the common courtesy thing to do when you consume free, unpaid creative works online. Like I promise i do write for myself hehe but it really helps give me momentum to keep writing when i know that people genuinely liked my work!

For fanfic, blurb, or headcanon requests about TLOU, please send me asks!

Much love ❤︎ from Juniper

Taglist: y'all didn’t explicitly ask to be tagged but you did like my last post gauging interest in this fic so i went ahead and tagged y'all!

@amazonabxtch @katluverxd @bowie-frommars @tasmbestspdrman @ka-x-in @mouseymagines​ @fandom-queen67​ @bfences @rosegoldarti​ @xlengueterax​ @lol-im-done​ @aanie-lg @toobsessedsstuff​ @theangstypioneer​ @leonkennedyslefthand @lizajane2​ @typingcorgi​ @julietamidala​ @floralcyanide​ @bilualien @austinnpowerss​ 

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #the last of us #the last of us hbo #tlou #tlou hbo #hbo tlou #tlou fanfiction #tlou fanfic #pedro pascal

[nentofus]

okay to like / reblog / tag / save / whatever!

thought i should pop my personal prompt list for this year's OC-tober here! for ease of reading, the prompt list is as follows:

The Introduction Week 1. Newest OC 2. Your favourite OC 3. OC who gets the most love 4. OC who needs a little more love 5. Show some Pride 🏳️‍🌈 6. Your favourite ship (romantic, platonic, found family, any relationship!) 7. Draw over an IRL picture - Alternate option: OC you'd most want to meet IRL

Appearance Week 8. Extra appendages (like extra limbs, eyes, etc.) 9. New hairstyle / New outfit 10. Gloves or socks? 11. Swimsuit 12. Mascot costume / Cursed outfit 13. Crossdressing 14. Wearing something from your culture!

Aesthetics Week 15. Cyberpunk - Alternate option: Vapourwave 16. Cottagecore - Alternate option: Lolita 17. Galaxy - Alternate option: Ocean / Forest 18. Monochrome / Noir - Alternate option: Light academia / Dark academia 19. Neon / Eyestrain - Alternate option: 2000s scene kid / Hot Topic emo 20. Rockabilly / 50s - Alternate option: Ah Beng / Ah Lian (lol) 21. Your favourite aesthetic - Alternate option: Your least favourite aesthetic

Fun Week 22. Song redraw 23. Collab cafe item 24. Limited palette 25. Family Feud 26. Idol / Band subunit 27. Fake screenshot 28. Barbenheimer

The End Half-Week 29. Your OC with a canon character 30. Your comfort zone / comfort character 31. Halloween costume dressup - Alternate option: Guts & glory / Free day!

I'll be putting the explanations for a couple of these under a read-more so that those who aren't interested can skip the rest of my blathering! Feel free to ask questions if y'all like! My ask box + the replies on this post are always open :D

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General - I wanted to make another self-indulgent prompt list this year for OC-tober so I did :3 - If you do feel like following along, remember that your health, comfort and motivation come first! Do as much as you want or as little as you want, or feel free to mix up the order or skip the prompts you don't like! - The alternate options were added because 1. I'm indecisive and 2. If a certain prompt doesn't appeal to you, then there's another choice! - I always have OCs on the brain so if you want to mention/tag me in your posts please do! I'll be responding under my main blog @complementary-oxymorons due to the interaction limitations of side blogs + wanting to keep my art blog as my personal art archive.

About the prompts - I understand that some prompts can be a bit confusing so I'll try to preemptively explain some! - Day 7: Draw over an IRL picture - For some ideas, it could be like drawing your OCs on a picture of a beach as if they're there having fun! Or maybe you could draw little chibis of your OCs sitting on your shoulder / messing with your hand while you draw :D (please do be mindful about the risks that come with uploading IRL photos though!). If you're concerned about privacy but still want to involve your "IRL self" in the piece, a possibility is to fully re-draw / trace over the reference photo you took! - Day 10: Gloves or socks - Yeah this is just me finding an excuse to draw my OCs who wear gloves or draw them in some super cute socks / stockings. Which team are you on? - Day 20 alternate: Ah Beng / Ah Lian - I thought it'd be funny because someone put it on Aesthetics Wiki (link). To those who have ah beng in ur neighbourhood just put portable speaker escooter tattoo slipper can liao also if yall know the typical ah beng spotify songs can tell me pls ok xiexie i only know 小幸运 and heng ong huat - Day 22: Song redraw - Some ideas could be redrawing your OCs on album art, or adapting them into the visuals of a song as if they're covering it! (Like how vtubers do hehe) - Day 23: Collab cafe item - Create a food or drink item that represents your OC! Some IPs (anime, games, etc.) collaborate with IRL cafes to create a themed menu which runs for a limited time only. The items on the menu tend to be references to the IP and its characters (e.g. an orange-haired character in the game gets a menu item that's an orange soda with decorative sprinkles, or a character who loves curry gets a menu item that's a special curry dish, something like that). If you're still unsure, google stuff like "collab cafe"! - Day 25: Family Feud - Feel free to redraw your favourite Family Feud clip as your OCs because there are a lot of strong contenders kekdog - Day 28: Barbenheimer - Exactly what it is! Feel free to draw your OCs dressing up to go to either movie or something. - Day 31 alternate: Guts & glory - This one's for those who prefer a more bloody Halloween :D Feel free to gore it up in any way you like. Plush, candy, flower, extra visceral... get those guts some air!!!

#prompts #oc-tober #oc-tober 2023 #little chats

[ladyimaginarium]

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐅𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐥 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠

𝐈𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬: Use your intuition & scroll to the bottom to receive your message based on this lovely spread by Labyrinthos using Death to focus my& thoughts for the collective for the Full Moon in Scorpio as a correspondence!

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: take what resonates, leave the rest of what doesn't & don't force anything if it doesn't fit your situation, keep in mind that energy and outcomes can always change & nothing is forever set in stone, you have free will in every choice you make !! keep in mind that this is a general collective reading so the messages here may not apply to everyone. as a general message: my readings are for entertainment purposes only and don't replace professional medical/legal/business help. feedback and a review after a reading is given, whether public or private, is obligatory. you can do that by reblogging, dming or emailing us privately on the matter. if you do not provide this, you will be added to my greylist and won't be given anymore readings, free or paid, until you give feedback which you can fill out in the form listed down below. don't just leave this in the likes, reblog and support your tarot readers, my time and labour aren't for free. while it isn't necessary, if you'd like to tip, my paypal's below. I have personal paid readings available which you can fill out the form below so tips, bookings & feedback are highly appreciated considering i plan to do this for a living! Happy Lesbian Visibility Week, Autism Awareness & Acceptance Month and Chag Sameach / Happy Passover to all my fellow Jews who celebrate !!

BOOK A READING | FEEDBACK FORM | TIP JAR

𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐤𝐬 𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝: Killstar ( Memento Mori ) Tarot.

Death: This represents the Full Moon energy. I feel like a lot of y'all are willing to put in the work for something or someone, because Scorpio is intense. Y'all could be witches, have one or more of the psionic clair senses or at the very least intrigued in the morbid, grotesque and occult. The number 13 could be significant. You yourself could have Scorpio in your chart. Maybe you watch horror movies. I feel like you'll be evolving and dying a metaphorical death and morphing into something better.

Judgement: I& feel like this card is very literal and I'm& not playin' w/ y'all when I& say this. Y'all really gotta stop judging yourselves & if this applies, judging other people. I& might be calling you out here bluntly here but I'm& giving you the truth. I'm& not even joking when I& say this but for at least some of y'all you could be the type of person to feel bad or insecure about yourself then lash out at people who're literally just trying their best with the knowledge they have and quite frankly that's not cool, y'all. It's okay to have insecurities about yourself but you don't get to turn around and make that other people's problem for your own shit. I& know that applies to at least some people so that's why I& felt called to say it, it won't apply to everyone. If it doesn't apply, let it fly like I& always say. Whether you're judging yourself and/or other people, you've gotta let that go in order to grow. Now, I'm& not saying this is gonna happen overnight or that you have to get rid of a trait completely, and I& technically can't tell you what to do, I'm& on the other side of your screen, but I& implore you to look at other people and ask yourself if you do the exact same thing they say and/or do, there's nothing wrong with reflecting on and evaluating yourself. For the people who're too hard on themselves, Judgement can represent self reflection and I& feel like for a lot of you, y'all gotta get outside your heads and find some way to ground yourself and change something in your environment, whether small or big. You could have a spirit guide or a deity or maybe even an ancestor who's willing to help you and I& get that vibe from the skeleton on the ground looking to the clouds to see two skeletons watching over the one on the ground, one with a horn blowing and the other watching with wings. Maybe this is more than one deity, spirit guide or ancestor. The number 20 could be significant, and Judgment represents the Fire element so Aries, Leo & Sagittarius could be significant. Straight to the point.

Temperance: Just like the last card, I& feel like you've been putting way too much pressure on yourself and/or other people and I'm& taking this card very literally. I& feel like you're going to start being patient with yourself and understand that not everything is gonna happen overnight and you can't expect yourself to, either. I& feel like this is coming from some kind of breaking point that's either happened or is about to happen. I& just ask that you be kind to yourself and to other people if that applies. Maybe you have an ancestor, a spirit guide or a deity who may want to help you, especially when you notice this figure in the sky with wings above the mountains and above the sky. The number 14 could be significant, Temperance is ruled by Sagittarius so that may be significant, either you yourself could have those placements or someone you know may have those placements. This is pretty relatively straightforward.

The Tower: Oh y'all... The Tower represents a massive change, an upheaval, a catastrophe, a revelation or sometimes even trauma. The question at hand was, what must be crossed in order for this rebirth to happen. Some shit is about to go down. I& genuinely don't know what this is, this could be different for all of you. Maybe this has already happened to you or you feel like it's about to. With the eye and the crown above it, I& feel as if this is fated to happen in your life, whatever this is. Just understand that The Tower is always built on an unsteady foundation and The Tower wouldn't come out unless if your situation or whatever this is for you was build on a steady foundation. It's okay to let a perceived notion that no longer serves you behind. It's okay to let go of a mindset or beliefs or people that don't serve you or your highest good. I& need y'all to know that there's always another better Tower built after. The number 16 could be significant, the Tower is ruled by Aries so that could be significant, whether you have those placements or someone you know does. This reading is all very straightforward and blunt like Scorpio can oftentimes be. Whether you accept the advice or not if it resonates is entirely up to you. This reading isn't light compared to previous readings but I'm& a tarot reader that gives you what you Need to hear, not what you Want to hear, those are two very different things and quite frankly I'm& not the type of person to condone someone's bullshit if it applies. With that said, thank you for being here & for existing, and see ya in the next reading!

#arcana.tarot #full moon #full moon in scorpio #tarotblr #tarot reader #tarot community #tarot reading #free tarot #free tarot reading #witch of color #tarot #witchblr #tarotcommunity #tarotcreator #tarotonline #divination #channeled message #channeled reading #indigenous witch #free readings #free tarot readings #tarot cards #tarot related #collective reading #witches of color #witches of tumblr #native witch #tw; long post

[stillgotme]

Idk if it's too early to ask about your characters without you reblogging any character ask memes but I am curious about this new story so here we are. What inspired you to create this story? I've been MIA for a while but it was really nice to see you start a story again so I'm just curious how this story came to be. So far I love what I'm seeing and I hope this story goes well! I can't wait to learn more about these new characters!

OF COURSE YOU CAN ASK ME ABOUT MY CHARACTERS

(this goes for everyone ok like just bc i don't reblog those character ask games all the time, know that i am always open to asks regarding my stories and characters)

now *cracks knuckles* time for me to tell y'all the story of how this new story decided to come into the picture

so rewind allllll the way back to february 2022. i was having issues with my saves so to check out what the fuck was causing this, i started a new save JUST TO TEST and so you know how they put you in cas when you first start a new game? the sim they gave me was actually super cute so i was like aw she cute i'll keep her in case i ever wanna do something with her or whatever. i saved her to my gallery, went and fixed whatever issue was happening to my saves, went back to my normal bullshit

fast forward to july 2022. my personal life in may and june was an absolutely nightmare. didn't touch sims for weeks bc i was so stressed and when it finally all settled by the time july came i didn't feel like doing anything serious with sims so i was like oh WAIT i remember that one sim i saved! lemme use her as a base and make a cute gameplay sim!

IN COMES RISA! she was just supposed to be a gameplay sim! that's why she's maxis mix bc i just wanted to vibe and have fun. so i move her into san myshuno's fashion district and start thinking about her backstory bc all fun, no story JUST FUN

but then guess who starts to interact with her when she moves in

AKIRA KIBO

YES. HIM. to all the new readers if you didn't know, akira is akira kibo from the karaoke legends household. MY BOY IS A PREMADE

i mean he was always hot but ea just didn't let him shine so i had to do it lmao

and bc my storytelling brain has no fucking self control my mind started thinking of scenarios as i developed risa and i talked to my friend about these concepts on discord and she called it before anyone else

i was like psh no it's not a story

yeah...........

the more i shared this with my friends they were loving it and encouraging me to do something with my ideas, even if it's a book, a draft, or some sim edits

and well. the storyteller in me couldn't resist. i was having so much fun with them and honestly doing something entirely new was a breath of fresh air, especially bc this story won't be as heavy and dramatic as redemption and sincerely, yours. i started plotting and eventually it turned into a story.

NOW WE'RE HERE

anway, so that's how this story was born lmao i hope you enjoy the ride!

and of course this in no way means i'm neglecting redemption and sincerely, yours! those stories are way too dear to me to give up on. when i reach a good point to stop at for this story, i'll return to them!

#ask #xenoplvtinum #you have no idea how happy i was to answer this lmao

[smol-bean-of-the-smols]

things about this blog i guess?

Welcome to the shit-show.

First things first. I'm in love with Kajii. I'm also a self-shipper. Very important details.

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IMPORTANT: DO NOT REPOST MY ARTWORK. I do not allow this and I never will. (Sending it to someone in a chat is alright AS LONG AS the link is provided.) Any reposts will be reported for copyright infringement. Thank you.

(If you see any of my work posted outside of this tumblr account and my instagram linked below, please tell me so I can report it.)

Also don't you dare put any of my stuff into those ai things.

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Current obsessions!

Main: Bungou Stray Dogs (specifically Kajii Motojirou) NOT SPOILER FREE. I’ve read the manga and I’m going to talk it. I do however tag spoilers (for both recent anime episodes and manga content) as #bsd spoilers. But only really like. within a week or so of release, so it's not that safe here.

Side: Cult of the Lamb (specifically Narilamb and bamsara's The Rehabilitation of Death AU)

+ plenty other non-specific side interests that i dont really reblog stuff for consistently so it'll be a surprise :D

What you’ll find here!

My art! It’s all tagged with #my art. Stuff made in MS Paint are tagged with #bean's ms paint adventures as well.

If you want to surf the Kajii content I’ve made, which includes textposts about him, it’s easier to use #bsd kajii or #motojirou kajii from my 'popular tags'. However, there are some posts about him that I don't feel like tagging outside of my text-post tag.

Reblogs. Sooo many reblogs. There’s sometimes whole stories in the tags. Bean lore.

My random statements, that usually have nothing to do with my fandoms, but also sometimes do. They are under #bean’s random thoughts. Paired with the above can be: - #bean complains again (where i complain. tagged for blocking purposes for negativity.) (replacing #bean rants because i forgot that existed) - #bean’s selfshipping nonsense is for when I draw or talk about my self-insert in a self-shipping context. (Created primarily so those uninterested can filter it. Mostly used on art.) Note: I will still talk about my self-insert outside of this tag, it'll just not be in a self-shipping context. - #bean’s polls because i finally have them. they’ll be shits and giggles as well as for info gathering/helping me decide things Note: If I reblog/post about something, like a specific fandom or otherwise content you strongly dislike or you find triggering, and the posts aren't all tagged by their OP, let me know and I can start tagging those posts for your blocking purposes. I am fine with that.

About me?

Call me Bean or Lemon! If you know my irl name you can use that too!

I'm 20!

I’m bisexual. I have a little shell painted with the bi flag. It’s name is Michelle with a B. Bichelle, if you will. It’s cute.

Gender is an experiment and I’m playing with it like dolls. I’m “a little bit of everything all of the time.” /ref (I will make a post about my experience with gender in the future, as I'm getting close to figuring it out.)

My timezone is Eastern Time! (Currently EDT)

I am okay with NSFW things, but as many of the people who follow me are a-spec, I will be keeping such things to a minimum. (Anything including me being horny on main, be it from asks or artwork or just textposts in general, will have the Mature Content community tag for sexual content. They will also be tagged NSFW. However they will not be a common occurrence. Y'all don't need to see that side of me.)

I’m open to questions! I love questions. (If you're on anon, be mindful of what you say since you are a stranger to me in that context.)

The art program I use is Clip Studio Paint Pro (Version 1), and the tablet I use is a Wacom Intuos Small.

I made a google doc to sort Mayoi SSRs and URs into active skill categories btw. Currently making one of leader skills as well. For fun. Even if it makes me suffer. :D

Socials:

Instagram

ao3

Art Fight

My Discord username is beanthesmol if you wanna reach me there. (I have only he/they on discord, but do not be fooled. I have that for Certain People. i still use it/its.)

Closing notes!

I’m chill. I’m a mess. I’ll be your friend! I don’t talk much, but I try my best.

Also, this intro post is subject to changes without notice. However, if something important has changed, I will mention it.

#hope yall like it here! it's supposed to be cozy #that's the vibe we're going for #also listen. im not making a dni list. thats for yall to figure out based on what i post/reblog #the fact that im queer should deter enough of the wrong people anyways

[musicallisto]

💥find your least kudos'd fic - say something wonderful about it.

🍭why did you start writing?

💎why is writing important to you?

📡why is writing and sharing your writing important for fandom?

🧿what steps do you take to not take things personally if a fic doesn't do well, or if your writing/posting/sharing experience isn't going how you'd like it to?

💌share something with us about an up-and-coming work (WIP) that has you excited!

💥 find your least kudos'd fic - say something wonderful about it. willingly ignoring the horrible horrible fics I wrote when I first started this blog, I think my fic with the least notes is for old times' sake (jaime lannister), which is a real bummer because I loved writing it and I'm pretty proud of the end result, actually. I think I succeeded in what I was trying to do with my writing, the setting, and the romance, and it's pretty evocative of a Northern winter night—and how the wilderness in the North reacts differently to Jaime (a stowaway, an uninvited guest) and the reader (a child of the woods). but alas, there seems to be no crowd for jaime lannister angst </3

🍭why did you start writing? there was no reason to be honest. I started writing the moment I learned how—probably no older than five. I used to devour children's books and my mind would swell up with so many stories and ideas I either acted out on the playground with my friends, or just wrote down exactly how people who wrote books did. When I found out about Pokémon Diamond there was no turning back, my brain had seized that fantastical world and made it its own already.

💎why is writing important to you? see answer above (i need to get it out of my system, it's my only exorcism, etc.) but also, selfishly, it's the only thing in this world that I (and everyone who's come in contact with my writing, one way or another) consider myself somewhat good at. It's quite literally my only "talent" (though I wouldn't attribute it to talent at all; like everything else, it's 99% practice), and at this point, especially being an engineering student, my gift with words and appetence for literature are my one defining characterstic among my peers. Me being a writer is quite literally the only notable thing about me tbh, and the only way I can get praised. Actually, nowadays I can feel my self-esteem deteriorating the longer I go without writing.

📡why is writing and sharing your writing important for fandom? I don't think sharing my writing specifically is important for fandom, insofar as I've always been clear about the fact I consider fanfiction a "warmup" of sorts for my personal projects. but writing in general is one of the most crucial parts of fandom and writers, as a rule of thumb, are paid dust. It infuriates me to see people copy-paste unfinished fics into ChatGPT to get a soulless AI-generated neat little ending, as if we were stuck vending machines and not actual people who spend weeks, sometimes months writing something simply for the pure joy of sharing it. Of expanding onto existing lore, of imagining characters in alternate universes and discussing possibilities with other fans, of evoking in the reader the same raw, honest emotions as we felt when we were consuming that media in the first place. Creation breeds creation, art makes art, interaction breeds community. Fandoms can only thrive as long as their artists are thriving.

🧿what steps do you take to not take things personally if a fic doesn't do well, or if your writing/posting/sharing experience isn't going how you'd like it to? I personally don't care at all how "well" my fics do on here as long as I get Approved By The Mutuals. 90% of the notes we get are likes anyway so it's not like they mean that much to me either? From personal experience it's just super puzzling to have a fic get 300 likes and like zero comments or reblogs? Like did y'all like it? Did y'all even read it? But yeah no as I said I write primarily for me and for me only. I like the interaction that comes with sharing my work, but I never wrote for audiences, hence why I had no problem stopping posting. There are super personal fics on this blog (thinking of the door to heaven and hell) that flew under the radar but I don't mind it at all bc my writing is self-indulgent and catered to me. idk sorry I can't give more insightful advice but like,,,, don't take it too seriously I think? this is tumblr this is cringe fun

💌share something with us about an up-and-coming work (WIP) that has you excited! unfortunately I have nothing to share today </3 I mean, no that's a lie, I still have my robb stark fic that's literally been sitting in my drafts since january of 2021 and which I love very much and would love to finish someday. I think I already posted snippets of it before? but here are some more lines, if anyones still a game of thrones fan in the year of our lord 2023 or whatever💔

: ̗̀➛ “Your horse is saddled, my Lord. You may depart whenever you want now, though I must reiterate my offer to ride with you.”

Robb would have laughed if the blood in his veins had not frozen from the furtive hallucination. The grounds near Winterfell had not been as safe in centuries — it would be as dangerous for him to leave the castle than to get back to his quarters. Even less so, perhaps. All of the North was haunted, but its most virulent ghosts wandered Winterfell’s cobblestone halls and flickering torchlight shadows.

“And I must decline again. But thank you.”

She nodded respectfully and disappeared behind the door, no doubt already expecting the answer. Such a pilgrimage was to be undertaken by the King and the King only. The entire town knew as much.

Empty streets welcomed the King as he left the castle on horseback, a few minutes later. The early light of day pierced snow-laden clouds like a blade through a curtain of heavy cotton, and he tasted the wind’s gelid kiss on his cheeks before he heard his town’s eerie stillness.

Unwavering, Robb Stark guided his horse through the deserted main street, amidst drawn shutters and swirling snowflakes; and the steady rhythm of his breath and the horse’s hooves on the stones were the only sound in the whole of Westeros, their cadence an oh so lonely funeral march. ༊*·˚

*ੈ✩‧₊ writing asks!

#ladylamrian #thank you for asking! <3 #writing

[dndspellgifs]

oh man i’m running out of posts on queue and i’m too busy playing divinity 2 to look for more :*)

#off topic #y'all mind if i just do self reblogs for a week or something

[writethatdown]

your negative thoughts are powerless and meaningless.

your intrusive thoughts are powerless and meaningless.

your violent thoughts are powerless and meaningless.

you attract only positive things in your life.

you manifest and want only the positive things in your life.

you are protected and safe.

your friends and family is protected and safe.

take a deep breath and realise that thoughts are only powerful when you have a ‘want’ factor to it.

and no you are not making it up. you are not wanting them, your brain makes you think that way. it just pops around your head and you are fighting it.

you are a good person.

you deserve so much love.

ʕ •ᴥ•ʔゝ☆ this lil bear is fighting all your unwanted thoughts and protecting you.

I love you.

you are loved.

please don't be hard on yourself.

#so I was kinda struggling these days with intrusive thoughts and this is something I would love to be reminded when I am anxious with it #idk if its ocd and its not correct if I self diagnose but I just wanna mention my struggle #please tell me if any of it was wrong of me to write or not important / effective for the community #I'll delete this asap #on a side note I am sick for the past few days physically and a few weeks mentally #I was planning to fully dwell on this site after my exams but oh well #P. S that post on heart attack was kinda a mistake because I forgot to add the reblogs ;-; #I hope you don't mind #and I really really hope all of you are doing well #even at a time like this #I try my best to come and check mu activity and inbox so if any of you need a vent outlet feel free to use the ask button y'all #self care reminder #reminders #living with ocd #ocd tag #ocdproblems #ocd brain #real ocd #gentle reminder #reminder #pardon for all the grammar mistake as well ;-;

[kroerms]

Half-way (part three)

pairing: Akaashi Keiji x y/n (gender neutral)

genre: angstish at the beginning, happy ending!

warnings: bad coping mechanisms, almost depression like symptoms at the beginning. That's it I think, if I forgot something, please feel free to tell me.

a/n: this is part 3 out of 3 of this fic. I hope you all enjoyed the first two parts and I hope you will enjoy the last part as well. I love interactions so please feel free to tell me what you think about this fic :) reblogs are greatly appreciated. <3 love y'all!!

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“Come on y/n, ya need ta leave that bed. Please. If ya don’t want ta get up for yerself, then at least get up and take a quick shower for me? A can’t handle this any longer. Yer just a shadow of who ya once were and A am not going ta let ya bathe in self loathing any longer. If ya don’t get up by yerself, A am going ta drag ya under the shower and out of this house maself.” Even if Atsumu’s words are a bit harsh, his voice is still as soft and comforting as it was the last couple of weeks you have spent at his place.

Another week has passed since “the dining table incident” and you are yet to get back to work.

To your luck, your boss gave you some holidays on short notice and you took a few extra health days. So you haven’t had to leave Atsumu’s guest room in the last few weeks.

You really don’t want to leave the comforts of the warm blankets and the many pillows that are laid out all over the bed. But Atsumu is right. You really need to take a shower. And it sure wouldn’t hurt to see the sun again. Since Atsumu took you in that night you haven’t left your room once, unless you had to use the bathroom.

So you nod meekly and sit up on the bed. Atsumu’s eyes widen slightly at your sudden movement, but a warm smile quickly grows on his face.

“There ya go, beautiful. Now how ‘bout that shower, hm?” Atsumu reaches out for you and grabs your hand with his. In one motion, he pulls you out of bed and into a standing position. The quick movement makes your head a little dizzy and you hold onto Atsumu for support.

“Yeah alright, no need ta get all touchy with me, beautiful. A am not the right man for ya anyways,” he smirks and you jokingly punch him on his broad chest.

“Oh shut up. I’m going to take a shower.” You smile at Atsumu. The gratitude you feel towards your friend is endless. You couldn’t have wished for a better friend in a time like this and so you go into the bathroom, undress yourself and get into the warm shower just for his sake. You decide that he is right. Enough is enough. You love Keiji with all your heart but you can’t just not live your life anymore until he comes back to you. At least you hope he will come back to you. This thought alone is what makes you want to see the sunlight again.

After the shower you change into casual clothes and brush your teeth. While you look at yourself in the mirror you understand what Atsumu meant when he said you look like the shadow of who you once were. He is right, you think. The dark circles under your eyes and the swollen eyelids from crying almost all day every day are evidence of your self loathing and it has to stop. So you look at yourself and give yourself a little pep talk before leaving the bathroom.

Atsumu is already waiting at the door for you, jacket in one hand and car keys in the other.

“Come on beautiful, let’s get ya out of here and back into the world. How ‘bout we get something ta eat? ” He says, while opening the front door. You agree and so the both of you leave his house.

Little do you know that you are not going to get something to eat right now, since Atsumu has a different plan in mind.

You don’t really notice where Atsumu is driving you until you reach your destination. It’s the park where Keiji asked you to be his almost 6 years ago.

“What are we doing here, I thought we are going to get something to eat?” You ask, your heart rate already picking up as you see the way Atsumu looks at you. Almost a little guilty he answers: “A am sorry, but A had ta promise ta make it a surprise. Please don’t be mad at me. Just get out of the car. If ya need me, A am picking ya up again, just give me a call, alright beautiful?”

He reaches over to the door and opens it for you. Your knees feel like jelly as you get out of Atsumu’s car and start to walk to the big oak tree up on the little hill at the back of the park. Your heart skips like every other beat as you near your destination. It’s not like Atsumu told you to go to that tree, you just know this is where you need to go because it is Keiji’s and your favorite spot in the entire park. As you get near the tree you see little lights in the branches and under it lies your favorite picnic blanket.

Keiji is sitting on the blanket patiently waiting for you to reach him. He doesn’t look like it but his heart is racing so fast, he feels like he just ran a marathon.

Soon enough you stand before him, a little awkward you tiptoe from one foot to the other and you fiddle with your fingers.

“Hi…”, you say, just loud enough for him to hear.

“Hey.” Keiji looks at you with warm, sad eyes. He now stands up as well, although keeping his distance out of fear that you would reject his advances to take your hand or to hug you.

“What is all of this?” you ask while gesturing to the lights above your head. You just now realize that besides all the little lights, there are lots and lots of little origami hearts on nylon thread.

“You can open them...you’ll understand once you do that.” Keiji answers.

You slowly make your way to the first heart and free it from the thread. You start to unfold it. On the back of the paper stands ‘because you are the most beautiful human being on this planet’. You look at Keiji dumbfounded. He just shrugs with his shoulders and says “open another one”.

You open the next and it says ‘because time spent without you is only worth half as much as time spent with you’.

“I don’t understand. What is all of this?”

“It’s all of the reasons why I am undeniably in love with you. It’s all the reasons why I want to be with you. It’s me not giving up halfway. It’s me telling you how sorry I am for hurting you like I did.” He looks at you with so much love and adoration in his gaze. Just like he used to.

Your eyes fill with tears and you wipe them with the sleeve of your hoodie before opening up the next heart. ‘because your smile still gives me butterflies’.

Another one. ‘because nothing feels better than listening to you reading your book out loud to me’.

Another. ‘because having you by my side is the best part of my life’.

You open up at least ten other hearts until you can’t read what they say anymore because your eyes are now filled to the brim with tears, clouding your vision. You turn to look at Keiji whose eyes are filled with tears as well.

“I love you so so much. And I can’t even begin to describe how sorry I am for not seeing it for a while. I am truly sorry that I hurt you like this and I will spend the rest of my life proving to you how much I love you, if you let me that is. Please be mine again.” Keiji looks at you, hands shaking in fear of what you are going to say.

“Keiji…”, you begin. But you have to take a break from speaking because your voice breaks. After a couple of seconds you try again.

“Did you read the letter I left you?” you ask.

“Yes. Over and over again to be honest”, he answers quietly.

“Then you already know my answer. I told you I would be here with open arms. The past couple of weeks were hell. I am not denying that I was hurt very badly. But I love you with all of my heart and that never changed. I missed you so so much, my love. And I am so glad that you found your way back to me again.” You reach for his hand and he lets you pull him into you, his own arms slinging around your shoulders while yours hold him around his waist. His head lays on top of yours while the both of you bask in each other's love.

After a moment you pull away, much to Keiji’s dismay. A pout forming on his lips. You look him in the eyes and whisper: “I love you so much.”

“And I love you. Today, tomorrow and for the rest of my life if you let me.” he whispers, before bending down slightly so that his lips can reach yours.

Keiji and you know that love exists. You can see it in each other’s eyes when you look at one another. You can feel it in the air around you as you lay on the picnic blanket under the oak tree. And you both know that love, real love - YOUR love lasts a lifetime. And the both of you couldn’t be happier that you are only half-way to the end of that road and that there will be many years to come for the love of you to grow stronger every second of every day.

#keiji x y/n #keiji x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu!! #haikyuu x reader #akaashi x y/n #akaashi x gender neutral reader #akaashi keji x reader #akaashi x you #akaashi fanfiction #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu angst #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x gender neutral reader

[herstarburststories]

Important Milestones (Damian Wayne x reader)

✾ Summary: An intimate look through your and Damian's relationship. Requested! It’s been a hot bit since I wrote for Damian, so I hope this one is good!

↼❈⇁

First meeting

Dick was taking Damian to the circus

Add a long conversation and lots of "Yeah, Dami. I'm sure the animals are treated well-- Actually, animals aren't allowed in legal circus anymore. You don't have to worry."

They were watching the show, and Damian couldn’t believe that Grayson was so excited about clowns

Damian excused himself to get some food

Dick asked him to get a hotdog, but Damian will bring him popcorn #beaveg

Thing is, you and Damian arrived the food trunk at the same time

Which leaded to an argument

Y/N: I got here first!

Damian: You are not on the line!

Y/N: Because you almost ran over me!

You two kept going long enough for a worried Dick to show up

How to trust each other

You know when you've never seen a person before, but once you lay your eyes on them, you start seeing their face in every crowd?

That's basically you and Damian

How come you didn't know the idiot from the circus was also the Wayne guy that studied with you?

How he, with Talia and Batman's observation skills, never noticed you walking around Gotham's School and now he always caught a sight of you?

You and Damian quickly fall into a weird routine:

Glare each other during lunch

Rolls your eyes when the others was talking in class

Annoy each other whenever you had the chance

Jon teased him a lot

Talking about Superboy...

He seemed off in the morning and he hadn't showed up for lunch like he always did

Damian decided to look for his best friend

Surprisingly, he found Jon crying in your arms in the middle of the chemistry laboratory

You just looked at Damian and nodded for him to come in

Y/N: His parents had a big fight. I found him here alone and thought I could help. Since you are here, guess I'll go.

Damian: You can stay. I mean, Jon probably could use your emotional assistance.

Damian still finds you annoying (and so do you), but you helped his friend

He trust you... A bit

Recognize your feelings

Damian came to school one day. He is clearly hurt-- he couldn’t even walk straight

Jon remained quiet. He was there when the week's villain throw Damian against a wall as if he was a bag of potatoes

But you don't know about the Robin detail

Besides, you are sort of a trinity with them now

Therefore, you worry

And you ask

And you worry some more

It's been a few weeks since your friendship started. Damian trusts you, he really does, but not enough to tell you

Let's keep in mind that pretty much like Bruce, Damian isn't the best when it comes to expressing his feelings through anything but violence

So, he acts like an idiot

Y/N: Damian, come on. I'm not stupid enough to believe you’d fall hard enough to get yourself hurt like this. Talk to me.

Damian: Stop pushing your need to fix everything on me, Y/N. You are not my mother. Don't waste your worry on me, I don't need it.

You realized you liked him when you felt way more worried than you usually would

But Damian just noticed his cherish for you when you glared at him with evident hurt in your eyes and left the table

He just wanted you back, making silly jokes with Jon and stealing his fries

Kiss me, idiot

Two days

48 hours + 12 minutes since you two fought

A whole weekend

LISTEN, his life was going perfectly well before you came along

Now it seems like you opened a spot that's exactly your fit and put yourself there

Whenever you aren't around, Damian feels this weird sensation of missing

Jon convinces him into talking to you

As soon as he sees you in school, he does

Apologize becomes another argument (surprise, surprise)

Damian: Why do you care so much?!

Y/N: Because I like you, idiot!

Damian: You, you like me? As in--

Then you kiss him

Because, let's be clear, you'd end up kissing or punching him

Finding out he's Robin

It's the most stupid way possible

Like, for real

Last night, his Robin's duties kept Damian up until 5am

Instead of leaving his clothes inside the Batcave as usual, he just crumbled to his bed

The sun arrived and so did you

School project

While Damian was out to grab some books, you were studying his room

A picture of him and Jon. Some papers with Arabian words. A dog's bed. Robin suit. A sword

Wait, come back

A. Robin. Suit.

Damian Wayne was many things, but cosplayer certainly wasn't on the list

The pieces glued together fast

A rich family would make sense: Batman and Robin's instruments never looked cheap. Four Robins existed among the years, and Damian had 3 brothers. Not to mention that he'd show up with random scratches and never explain what happened. He was good with swords, and the current Robin had been seen with them a lot of times. Besides, Damian Wayne would never wear a costume willingly, much less keep one in his room

He walks inside the room to see you wearing his cape and mask

Y/N: Guess I'm robin' your persona, huh? Wanna tell me something?

Meeting the family

You come from a big family

Good thing because anybody else would be scared if they were in your shoes

MESS, MESS, MESS

Dick is smiling like a crazy all the time, and making dad jokes

Tim is teasing Damian by asking you to blink twice if you need saving

Jason is directly fighting Damian and calling him devil spawn

Bruce is quietly watching everyone with a subtle smile on his lips. He asks you a few questions, and occasionally asks the boys to behave before answering his phone and excusing himself

Babs, Steph and Cassandra come in later

Now the teasing is divided between you and Damian and Steph and Tim

You tease them a lot, blushing Tim is adorable

You are wearing purple boots, and Steph already loves you for that

Dick tells Babara about you being aware of the family secret

She offered to train you for some self-defense

YOU ACCEPTED, DUH. SHE IS THE BATGIRL!!

Cass is more quiet, but very friendly

Alfred was the first batfam member that you'd met, though (also your fav)

You try (key word being try) to help him in the kitchen

Batcow became your best friend, sorry Jon

You met the Titan family as well

Now you had munition to tease Dick as much as he teased you and Damian

Thank you, Kory

Also, Kor is a real life alien princess, how cool is that!?

Beast Boy is the funniest guy -- and now you are pretty sure you became a vegetarian because you can't eat animals after seeing his transformation

Raven reminds you of Cass

Donna is so powerful, and she knows so many languages!

You get along with his two families

Although Damian rolls his eyes a lot during y'all interaction, he is really happy

First kid

You and Damian are in university when it happens

You both know it's a big step

There's no turning back, you two will always be connected

Damian and you are now responsible, parents

Of the cutest bunny!

Yep, you insisted on naming him Robin

The first kid you both adopted together

Get on your knees for me

Damian isn't much of a romantic

You don't really mind

But when he proposes, it's the sweetest thing

You two had ordered some veggie food to celebrate the end of your finals

Finally a break!

Damian was holding you on the couch as you both watched one of your favorite movies when Robin, the bunny showed up

Y/N: Batbunny, just because we have vegan food, it doesn't mean you can get some. Go eat your lettuce.

Damian: Beloved, maybe you should see what he brought for you.

The bunny had a necklace wrapped around him!!

And the said necklace was attached to a ring!!

A FUCKING DIAMOND!?

Extra of love:

You became a vigilant for a bit before deciding how you truly wanted to help people

Besides charity, you became a lawyer specialized in cases of racism and immigration

Your and Damian's wedding was a mix of your culture and his

Comment/Reblog if you liked it, feedback is magic! Wanna see more? Check my Masterlist! How about get tagged on my batboys or just Damian works? Ask me or add yourself to my taglist!

#Damian Wayne #Damian Wayne headcanons #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne headcanon #damian wayne imagines #damian wayne x you #damian wayne x y/n #batfamily #BatFam #Batfamily Headcanon #batfamily headcanons #batfam x reader #batfam x you #batfam headcanons #batfam headcanon #batfamily x reader #jason todd #jason todd x you #jason todd headcanons #dick grayson #dick grayson x reader #batboys headcanon #batboys imagine #batboys headcanons #batboys x you #batboys x reader #batboys #imagines

[winterrhayle]

ok, some of u have probably noticed by now that tegan has deactivated her account (@lethughandsimonkiss) and she sent me this to explain why: (everything in italics was written by tegan)

There are things more important than what I'm upset over. Tumblr really isn't a great place anyway. And when you just get buried beneath it, it doesn't help anything. There are so many things dying on it, i wont be surprised if Tumblr deletes itself in two years. The sharing of content is too much all in itself. I think you guys already know about that. I didn't even know what i was doing on tumblr, i was just there to have fun.

But the more time i spent on it, the more it seemed it didn't matter. I wanted to apart of the Renegades fandom. And the only i came apart of it was the reblogs right? People starting seeing what i did, and you accepted me. That was cool. I mean, yea i wanted to popular like the big blogs but i was never gonna get there. That was fine with me until i had to learn about how tumblr worked. That caused me stress. I started just wandering around tumblr, dead minded. Eventually that writers stand thing happened and it took a lot out of me. I didn't really participate but i did take the time to reflect on why i was even on tumblr.

I suppose its just some people i cant be in the same room with.

I cant really consider what is fair and what isnt. I mean i guess it sucks when something you work hard on basically gets shit on. Was it fair? Not really, no actually. Was it really something to delete your account over? No, it wasn't (keeping in mind this isn't really what i deleted it for) But when you really try to reach just to get shot down, you can't help but think about it right? I couldn't help it. Yes, it was stupid but i wasn't expecting it to blow up like that

. It just discouraged me from everything. I was trying so hard for something that was never gonna happen. Sure, i was holding a grudge. But the damage is done. And it sucks. I just want to be able to enjoy something without someone going all uwu on me. Its disappointing. I was disappointed in this more than angry( even if i seemed to come off as angry). I thought fandoms were supposed to be fun spaces, not something you dread over. I know i seem bitchy about this one thing, but it just sucks, ok? It made ALOT of questions run through my head nonstop. I want to be able to forget about it.

it's actually more things i just cant deal with. I could tell you more reasons but i dont wanna keep your time more than i already have. Tumblr has actually caused me more pain than comfort, even when i was just sitting there, watching y'all argue over generally nothing. Maybe some time, this or next week (if im lucky that is) i can make a new account and start fresh. Without grudges, no regrets, and no jealousy or whatever. Maybe my therapy will fix that. I know it seems dumb to mention therapy over fucking tumblr but my first session actually explained alot, (about me dreading, not being able to sleep, the questions) I guess deleting it was a first small step. And i will say goodbye (at least for this moment) with this : You can still support each other. Just enjoy each others presence. Encourage each other. Make their time as worthy as yours. Please. Its actually not that hard. It doesn't really contradict anything.

So if you wanna talk to me: insta: capsnhoodies, ao3:mangoesntangoes

I still post to insta( cuz i fuck around on my stories), and i like to post fics on ao3 cuz Tumblr eats them.

Thanks for everything anyway <3 Hope to get back to you all soon

she’d rly appreciate it if u signal boosted this so i’m gonna tag a bunch of ppl to spread it round

@honey-harper-official @furryevanderwade @cerenoya @thepurpledragon4444 @sanktaleksander @emybain @cinderswrench @scxundress @jacihayle @half-heaven @cindersnightmare @strawberry-seraph @novas-tunnel-of-anxiety @blackpercyjckson @girlfriendisthemoon @novas-egg-beater @creampuffqueen @its-liiinh-cinder-official @healing-winston-pratt @alecjamesartino @teawithhoneyharper @queen-of-self-love @ohmyskies @pjo-and-jollof-rice @ztomazhipsclato @bisexualnovaartino  @lavenderbloo @screennamealreadyused @peoplecallmeginger @idkchatie @emmabookworm08 @angstycatthatlikestea (sorry if i missed anyone)

#tegan tag

[toozmanykids]

Am I allowed to do a Six Sentence Sunday on Friday??? Last week's that @myoxisbroken started got me so pumped up and inspired, and I'm so excited anticipating all these exciting works in progress that y'all teased us with!

Last week @just-the-hiddles had teased us with an OFC struggling to get the attention of our lovely Magnus Martinsson who was far too engrossed in his work to take notice of her efforts.

I have an idea! In fact my OFC may just steal your Magnus right from under your nose my dear @just-the-hiddles . You see, all of the "Sex Pollen" fics y'all have been churning out recently has gotten me fit to be tied! Holy fuck! Especially the one @frostbitten-written wrote. Blame it on the Pollen. OMG! I think that was the hottest "Sex Pollen" story I've ever read! And I have read a LOT these past two years.

So I couldn't resist getting distracted from what was supposed to be working on, and started a "Sex Pollen" fic of my own. I haven't named the OFC yet, but she encounters s beautiful Magnus Martinsson on her commute home one Friday evening. Here are my seven sentences from this WIP.

The moment she sat down, the vibrations of the train immediately caught the attention of her newly awakened inner slut. She slid her ass over a few inches to center her cunt directly on the hard metal hump that divided up the seats and purred from the heavenly stimulation. Subtly adjusting the pressure point with minute angle changes in her posture created the most pleasant feeling of warmth that began to extend up into her chest.

A whimper slipped out with each jolt that broke the gentle rumbling rhythm. A sneaky smile slipped onto her lips, yet she remained unaware of her expression, only focused inward, eyelids drooping closed, and anxiously waiting for the next flaw in the track.

She had completely forgotten about the few people still occupying this train car, including that devastating Mr. Angel-face who had a Masters Degree in Observation. His gaze hadn't left her since she sat down.

What do you think??

................

By the way, last week's Six Sentence Sunday gave excerpts of WIPs by some great authors who you will want to keep an eye on. I didn't get a chance to comment earlier, so I will now. And I beg you all to tag me!!! Please! Just add me to your whole enchilada tag list if your lists are still open?

@myoxisbroken teased her fic with a gif of Pine holding Jeb with a knife to her neck. Holy shit! Any fic inspired by that has got to be exciting! I can't wait to read your Jonathan Pine!!

@caffiend-queen teased us with the most evil gif of Chris Evans in a bright purple shirt that someone must have just painted onto him. I don't know what the hell he's actually doing in that gif, but the gif alone does freaky things to my... But the point of her participation was to tease the next chapter of It'll Be Good For You. This is a DELICIOUS entry in the "My Landlord is a Vampire" Challenge. SQUEAL!

@imanuglywombat teased us with delicious seductive thoughts for her Alpha/Omega WIP. *grrrrowl..... My interest is so piqued to read one with Danvers involved. Oh yes. *Wicked thirsty smile.

*SCREAMING WITH EXCITEMENT!!! Another chapter of Bottom of the Hourglass was in the works last Sunday by @nildespirandum . She teased us with six sentences of our brooding musical creature of the night getting swept away with his music. Good god, the images she conjured up in my mind left me mesmerized as well.*swoon.

@rauko-art is working on an Inuyasha fanfic with Sessoumaru!!! My kids and I just recently discovered Inuyasha this summer. It is a really fun anime set in medieval Japan filled to the brim with mythological gods and demons. The possibilities are endless. The show is so rich in story with beautifully developed characters. I highly recommend it for everyone. I CAN'T WAIT TO READ @rauko-art 's fan fic!!!

@mermaidxatxheart 's tease for her WIP hooks me immediately with one my biggest kink. The character wakes up thinking something is "integrally wrong." *SQUEAL!!! Blackouts or amnesia or losing time are a huge guilty pleasure of mine. I have no idea where this is going, but I definitely need to hop on for this ride! Please?

(Psst....Throw in gaslighting and a little bondage or trapped to go with that amnesia and you'll put me into a trance from being so turned on. I just wanted to put that out there on case anyone was looking for ideas. *Wink)

@pagesoflauren 's teaser has me bouncing in my seat needing to dive into this fic!! OH WOW!! I need to I find a link to this!! Please please tag me! Are you up on AO3?

@threeminutesoflife used a gorgeous gif from Knives Out (2019) of Ransom all stabby with the knives sculture in the background. Omg, the gif alone has me so on the edge of my seat! I can't wait to read this fic!

Some of these fics may be DARK fictions.

ALL links above are in blue.

ALWAYS READ THE TAGS!

Be a responsible reader!

I have been trying to get more organized with tag lists. I threw this list couple weeks below mostly just of people who l thought might be interested to hear when I actually get my butt in gear and post something or write something. Let me know if you want on or off any lists, my everything list, versus included dark fics that may have noncon/dubcon, versus Tom characters only, versus no RPF aka no Real!Tom, plus a list for heads up when i reblog @nildespirandum , bc she SUCKS at self promotion and y'all are missing out if you haven't read her works yet. She is aka Misreall in AO3.

@ladyoftheteaandblood @ladyfluff @bellesque @reine-sigyn @archy3001 @pedeka @lettalady @cursedcursingviking @just-the-hiddles @yespolkadotkitty @myoxisbroken @imanuglywombat @villainousshakespeare @wolfsmom1 @vodka-and-some-sass @boredbrooder @maniploki @fadingcoast @evieplease @fandom-and-feminism @writernotwaiting

@lokislastlove @myraiswack @petitefirecracker10 @littletime67 @memenerdlover @tehgvicious @scatteringlikelight @what-just-happened-bro @the-undecided-compass

[always-and-forever-a-killjoy]

Hey y'all! So I wrote a relatively long oneshot (for me) in 24 hours or so (breaking my record for most words written in one day in the process), and I decided to dump it all on you. This is minimally edited and was posted with a cat on my lap, so if you spot any errors, please let me know. 

Also, while it's not technically necessary to read all the smiles that are ever gonna haunt me and all the things that you never ever told me, which are the fics which this is an alternate ending for, it will be really really helpful to understanding this. (All the smiles is here and all the things is here.) Do be careful of the warnings for those two, as they're quite dark fics. But then again, so is this, so...y'know.

Oh and please don’t question why the Cherri POV is present tense and the Newsie POV is past tense, idk either it just felt right.

Title: if i died we’d be together

Wordcount: 5316

Summary: Cherri Cola dies. NewsAGoGo refuses to accept this.

The Phoenix Witch is unhelpful (and an asshole, if you ask Newsie.)

Warnings: major character death, implied/referenced suicide, implied self harm, minor violence, an extraordinary amount of swearing.

Taglist: @wishiwasthemoon-tonight @sleevesareforlosers @stressed-depressed-emo-mess @tasteofamnesia @dagger-queen (message me, send an ask, or reblog/reply to one of my posts if you want to be added or removed)

AO3 Link

(Actual fic under the cut)

In this universe, the Phoenix Witch doesn’t come for Cherri Cola. He lies in the sand, alone and in pain, unable to move himself a single step further. He would get up if he could, he would go home, but he’s helpless. Alone and afraid, truly afraid for the first time in years. He doesn’t want to die alone. He doesn’t want to die knowing the people in his life will never know what happened to him. D, Pony, Newsie…

Cherri doesn’t want to die. Not like this. He was supposed to die helping his friends, not because he decided that life wasn’t worth living and let himself fade away into the heat of the desert. He doesn’t want to leave his friends, he doesn’t want to leave his family. Did they even know he counted them as a family? Does Newsie know he loves them like a sibling?

Cherri Cola dies alone, and the last words on his lips are “I’m sorry, Newsie.”

-

Cherri didn’t come back. Not after the mask discussion, not after Newsie’s talk with the Phoenix Witch, and certainly not any earlier than that. It was another week of silent dinners and endless, hopeless searching before Pony put eir foot down. 

“Cola is dead.”

That was what ey said, breaking the silence of that morning’s breakfast. 

Newsie couldn’t even manage the energy to snap at em. “No.”

“Cola’s gone, Newsie. You know it, just like me.”

“He can’t be fucking dead. I won’t- I won’t let it happen.” She hated that her voice shook. 

“He is, though. Nothing we can do about it.” Pony’s usually cheerful voice was quiet, beaten-down. 

“No!”

“Yes! We gotta accept it!”

“No, we don’t!”

“Maybe-“ eir voice broke on the word. “Maybe it was his time. Or fate or something.”

“Well fuck fate then! Fuck the Phoenix Witch and fuck her ‘plans’! It can’t just be right to fucking take him away, he’s got a fucking family!”

“Well- well- maybe you’re right, but what are we going to do about it?” Pony’s voice had gone quiet again, and ey was staring at the table like it might have the answers somehow.

“We’re going to find the Phoenix Witch and tell her to go fuck herself,” Newsie declared. 

D sighed. “I don’t think that’s possible, Newsie.”

“Why not? Cherri’s met the Phoenix Witch, it can’t be that hard.” She got up from her seat, tossing the empty power pup can into the sink.

“I mean…they’ve got a point,” Pony said as D sighed again. 

“See? Pone knows I’m right.” She made those words as firm as she could, filling them with all the confidence that she didn’t have but wished she did. “I’m going to go find the Phoenix Witch, flip her off, and get Cherri back.”

“Newsie-“

They ignored D’s worried voice as they went tromping into the back of the radio station, back to the room that used to be theirs and Cherri’s- and still would be, Newsie vowed. She packed up a messenger bag with a few supplies and located Cherri’s mask and ray gun, picking up the ray gun first. It was pink like hers, but a heavier weight in her hands. If she had been poetic like her brother, she would have said it was the weight of the task she was about to take on.

But they were no Cherri Cola, and they knew the real reason was that Cherri’s ray gun was a nicer one than theirs, taken from an exterminator he had fought back in the Analog Wars. It certainly wasn’t the newest model anymore, but it remained a high-quality weapon. Not that he ever used it anymore. Still, even however long after he had last held it, she thought she could feel the ghost of his hands on it, warm and rough as they guided her hands into place the first time she had ever fired a ray gun.

Newsie slid the ray gun into her spare holster and picked up Cherri’s mask. They debated putting it away into their bag, but that felt too much like they were bringing it to the mailbox for a final goodbye. Instead, they put it around their neck, where it bounced against their collarbone as they donned their own mask. 

“Alright, Cherri. Let’s go bring you back from the dead.”

Show Pony and Dr. Death Defying didn’t try to stop her when she walked back through the main living space. D reached out as if to grab her wrist, but stopped himself in midair. “Newsie.”

“Don’t try to stop me.”

“I won’t, but I want you to take this.” He held out a crow feather, shining a gorgeous glossy black in the sunlight that streamed in from the window. “I met the Witch, once. During the Analog Wars. And she gave me this.”

“So you think it will help?”

D’s smile was dreadfully sad. “Worth a shot.”

Newsie hesitated a moment and took the feather. It was smooth under her fingers as she tucked it into her bag. “Thanks, D.”

“Of course.” He didn’t tell her to come back safe, and Newsie didn’t promise she would.

Pony skated up before she could walk out the door, handing her a packet of what looked vaguely like glitter. “I don’t have a fancy Witch feather like D, but take some glitter for the road. Because sparkles…”

“Make everything better.” Newsie’s throat burned. “Thanks, Pone.”

“Of course, GoGo.” Ey shot her a grin. “Bring back our Cola. Oh, and give him some shit for dying, would ya?”

“Don’t worry, I will,” Newsie muttered. They paused in the doorway, looking back at the other two. “Thanks, Pone. Thanks, D. Love you.”

“We love you too.” D’s face was sad as he watched them go.

Newsie hopped onto their motorcycle, grinning a bit to themself at the familiar noise of the engine. “Come on, baby, we’ve got an idiot brother to retrieve.”

What had once been called Death Valley was silent as Newsie hopped back off the bike, only a few caws of crows to welcome her. It was said that here, the lines between reality and wherever the Phoenix Witch was were even thinner than they were for the rest of the Zones, practically non-existent. No one could quite agree if it was because the Phoenix Witch lived here, or if the Phoenix Witch lived here because the lines were so blurred, but either way, she was said to dwell here in this aptly named valley. It wasn’t a place many people went by choice, not unless they wanted to risk the wrath of the Witch.

Newsie figured the Witch, her wrath, and all the superstition could all go fuck themselves. She was uneasy, yes, but the valley held no great fear for her. Only great fucking heat, given that the sun was blazing down and the air was almost unnaturally still. Couldn’t the Phoenix Witch have picked a nicer home? This was the closest thing you could get to hell on earth, with the exception of possibly whatever was beyond the Zones entirely. Not that Newsie particularly believed in hell, but she imagined it would be something like this. Blazing sun, still air, the faint haze of radiation, and the omnipresent sting of grief.

“Hey, Phoenix Witch lady! Asshole! Where are you?” The words didn’t even echo, absorbed into the stifling heat, and Newsie took another couple of steps. “I know this is your home- and you picked a pretty hellish one, if you ask me- so come on out and fight me!”

There was no reply, and Newsie dug through their bag to see if they had anything useful. Their hands brushed against a smooth…something, and they pulled out the feather D had given them. “Hey! Asshole! This is your feather, so come and get it!”

Once again, there was no reply, but the feather strained against Newsie’s grip, despite there being no wind. She reluctantly let it go, and it hovered above her hand, turning to point further into the valley. 

“Holy shit. I guess I’m supposed to go this way?” She took a few cautious steps, and the feather almost seemed to bob in approval. “Okay, let’s go then.”

They zipped their bag closed again and started walking, following the lead of the feather. It was a longer trek than they really appreciated, across shifting sand through the hazy day. Every so often, the feather changed directions, and Newsie had to turn to follow it. Despite the fact that she guessed she must be out in Zone Seven by now, or possibly even further, the landscape never seemed to change. Rocks and sand and endless, burning heat, matching the burning of her eyes as the sand stung them. She would have been lost in a second if she didn’t have the feather, wasn’t entirely sure she wasn’t lost anyways. They certainly didn’t know their way back. 

Newsie shoved that concern to the back of their mind. Right now, all they needed to focus on was finding Cherri. The rest could come later. Still, there was no sign of Cherri- or anyone else for that matter- as they made their way further into the dusty valley. It should have been lonely, but the faint hovering presence of someone or something next to her kept away that particular anguish. She really should have been more alarmed by whatever was in the corner of her eye, vanishing when she looked right at it, but the presence felt safe. Almost familiar. So Newsie kept walking. 

They walked, and walked, and walked and walked and walked until the steps all blurred together under the infinite sun. It seemed like it should be nearly nightfall by now, but the sun didn’t seem to move, no matter how many steps she took. The landscape didn’t seem like it was moving much either, even though they must have walked miles and miles by now. Every step was harder than the last, sand stinging her eyes and nose and throat as her feet ached.

Still, Newsie was too damn stubborn to give up now. She followed the feather until the landscape did start to shift, the feather pointing towards…a tree? On a hill? It wasn’t like the tiny, scraggly trees that clung to existence in the wettest parts of the desert. No, this was what Newsie vaguely thought might have been called an oak, once upon a time, branches stretching towards the sky as the tree stood proud. The leaves were dark green, striking a sharp contrast to the faded blue of the desert sky and the endless beige sand, and the branches were thick and steady, growing in a pattern Newsie hadn’t seen before. It definitely wasn’t a tree that was meant to be in the desert, but...shade was shade. 

She staggered over and flopped down underneath it, every muscle in her body screaming at her. “Hey, Witch, asshole, why do I have to walk so fucking far?”

The only reply she got was the rustling of leaves above her. They didn’t think the Witch was actually watching, but they flipped off the tree anyways, just in case. 

She could have sworn she heard faint laughter at that, but it was probably her mind playing tricks on her. Water, she could really use some fucking water. Thank the Witch, or maybe just Pony’s quick thinking, they found a bottle of water when they reached into their bag. It was warmed by the sun and tasted vaguely of rust, but then again, most water in the desert did. Newsie was used to it.

She only got a few minutes to rest before the silence was shattered by a cry. “Help! Help!” It was a young-sounding voice, and Newsie groaned as they climbed to their feet. Having a moral compass was a real pain in the ass sometimes; they couldn’t just ignore a kid in need.

The presence by their shoulder seemed to have grown stronger as Newsie came around the tree and saw a few dracs holding a struggling killjoy who looked to be maybe thirteen or fourteen. She would have to be very careful in order not to hurt the ‘joy, given their close proximity to the dracs. Their hands shook as they pulled out their ray gun, reconsidered, and took out Cherri’s instead. They were pretty sure it had that gyroscope stabilizer (or whatever it was called) that some of the nicer ones were built with, and she would need every advantage she could get. This time, she was almost certain there were ghostly hands over hers as she took careful aim.

“Steady. Breathe,” a voice murmured in Newsie’s ear as they tilted the ray gun carefully. It would be only seconds before the young killjoy was dragged off, so she had to act now. 

Newsie took a deep breath, releasing it fully before she pulled the trigger and took out one of the dracs holding the ‘joy, who was able to break free from the other one’s grasp as Newsie took that one down too. She might not have been Cherri Cola, but she was by no means a bad shot, and she grinned a bit to herself. Drac down, drac down, and that was the last of them!

“Fuck yeah, NewsAGoGo, you kick ass.” They figured they might as well encourage themself, since there was no one else around to do it.

That was met by what she could have sworn was another faint chuckle, but there wasn’t anyone else around to be laughing. Well, except the younger killjoy, but they were way too far away to have heard her. 

Newsie shrugged and accepted that weird shit was going to happen on a quest in Death Valley. They had to keep moving, they decided, but first they should check on that ‘joy they’d saved. 

“Hey, kid! You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine. Thanks to you, I think.” Their voice was hoarse, and Newsie sighed as she handed them her water bottle. Cherri was getting his ass kicked for this, she decided. It wasn’t technically his fault that she was thirsty, but if he hadn’t up and died, she wouldn’t have had to quest after him and then she wouldn’t have ended up giving her water to some random ‘joy.

“Thanks,” the teen said, handing them back the water bottle.

She shrugged. “No problem. You going somewhere?”

“Yes, but not the same way as you.” Their head was tilted curiously. “You’ll have to go that way. Until you see the building.”

Newsie debated for a second if this kid was trustworthy, but ultimately decided it was no worse than following a fucking feather. “Thanks, kid. Good luck, keep running.”

“Keep running!” They flashed a smile and wandered away.

Newsie sighed and started walking again, this time in the direction the kid had pointed. Again, Cherri was so getting an ass-kicking for this. Their feet hurt. 

Thank the Phoenix Witch- no, thank Destroya, she wasn’t thanking the Phoenix Witch for fucking anything right now- she wasn’t back on her feet for long. Compared to her earlier trek, it was quite a short distance, maybe a mile or so, to what must have been the building that kid was talking about. It was a small shack which looked vaguely familiar, even from a distance, and Newsie sped up a little as they headed towards it. Shade! Maybe even a place to sit that wasn’t sand! Of course, knowing her luck, the Phoenix Witch would show up and demand she go run some errand or walk another hundred fucking miles or something. 

The presence that had been following her this whole time seemed stronger and easier to catch a glimpse of, now, but the was the least of their worries as Newsie approached the building and found it familiar. They could peer in through the window and find D and Pony sitting there in the living room, talking about music (she assumed, given that the only time D gestured so broadly was when he was giving opinions about music).

“D! Pone!”

They didn’t seem to hear her, and Newsie felt her eyes stinging from both sand and grief as she knocked on the door. There was still no reply, no Pony at the door or even sound from inside. But the two carried on their conversation, gesturing and laughing away.

"D, Pony…” If they were back here, that meant they had failed. They hadn’t gotten to the Witch after all. 

Newsie gave up her knocking and turned her back to the door, sliding down to sit on the hard ground. Their feet hurt from standing and their legs hurt from walking and their hands hurt from clutching Cherri’s ray gun so tightly. The sun was still blazing, and their throat was dry and sore. Her collarbones were banged up where Cherri’s mask had been bouncing against them, and her hip was bruised from the bag bouncing against it, and everything fucking hurt. They had promised themself they weren’t going to cry, but now they were breaking that promise because their goddamn brother was dead and they couldn’t fucking do anything about it. 

“I’m sorry, Cherri,” they choked.

“It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.” The words were only a whisper, but the voice was familiar. 

Newsie’s heart skipped a beat. “Cherri?”

“I’m here,” the air next to her whispered, right where that presence had been hovering. “Not exactly, but close enough.” If they squinted, they could make out an outline of a familiar killjoy, smiling a soft, sad smile as he pushed his hair out of his face.

“Fucking bastard! Fuck! Fucking hell! You just fucking died on me and do you know how far I fucking walked?”

“Technically, you didn’t walk at all.” That was a different voice, belonging to the cloaked figured who was suddenly in front of Newsie. They could have sworn the person hadn’t been there just a second ago, which was damn inconvenient. Right as she was trying to catch up with her fucking brother? Really?

“Who the fuck are you?” They demanded.

“The deity you came to find, NewsAGoGo.”

Newsie hopped to her feet so she could stand on level with the bird creature, ignoring the ache in every part of their body. “Fuck you! Fuck you, Witch lady! Fuck you and your fate and your cryptic ways! What the fuck do you mean I didn’t walk?”

The Witch seemed faintly amused by her swearing. “I mean that in real-world distance, you went nowhere. You’re on the border, the boundary between this world and the next. Which is how your lovely brother is here, by the way. He belongs to the spirit world, and you belong to the ordinary one, but on this border and this border only, you can see and hear each other.”

“Great, now I’m taking him back to the real world.”

The Phoenix Witch tsked disapprovingly. “I’m afraid you can’t do that, NewsAGoGo. You see, Cherri Cola is dead. He belongs to my domain now.”

“Well fuck that! I’m not letting him go.” Newsie hadn’t walked however many fucking miles to give up now.

“Fine, fine, you can have him.” Newsie’s heart soared. “For a price,” The Witch added. 

“And what’s the price?”

“The price is the people in that house behind you.”

“What?”

“Well, technically they aren’t there, per se. That’s not Dr. Death Defying and Show Pony, although it seems that way to you.” The Witch’s voice was annoyingly calm. “But my point being, if you can give up one of them, you can have your Cherri back.”

“Newsie, no,” Cherri whispered from beside her.

“Can you do it?” The Witch was still smiling. “Can you sacrifice one friend to save another? Could you live with yourself if you killed your friend to save your brother? And could you live with yourself if you left him here to save the others?”

“No, I can’t do it.” They knew their voice must sound very small and very tired as they leaned a little against the radio shack that wasn’t the radio shack. “I can’t choose the life of one of my friends over another. I won’t make that choice. I refuse.”

“So do you choose to leave him here? I’ll take good care of him, you know.”

“No. I choose to not choose. I refuse to choose.” She had no idea what she was doing, only that she wasn’t leaving without the lives of all of her family. “I won’t put Cherri’s life over D’s, or Pony’s. I won’t put D or Pony’s life over Cherri’s. They all deserve to live.”

“Oh, hon, it doesn’t work that way.”

“Well I’ll make it work that way!” A thought niggled Newsie’s brain. “What if…What if I gave you something else?”

“Like what?”

“Like my life.”

“No!” That was Cherri again, his spirit form flickering fiercely. “No! Newsie, just leave without me. Please.”

The Phoenix Witch was smirking, but she shook her head. “Sorry, NewsAGoGo. I can’t accept that offer, selfless as it might be. You’ve got things ahead of you, I can’t just mess up my plans like that.”

“Fine, then something else.” Newsie rooted around in her bag, desperately trying to find something to trade with the Witch. Empty water bottle, no. Can of power pup that she never touched, no. Their hand collided with a small, slightly squished packet of something, which they pulled out triumphantly. “Glitter. I’ll give you glitter for my brother’s life.” Newsie knew she sounded ridiculous, but it really was all she had to offer.

The Phoenix Witch threw her head back and cackled; it was almost more of a caw than a laugh but clearly a sound of amusement nonetheless. “Glitter! Glitter! I haven’t laughed so hard in years.”

Their hand was shaking. “Pony gave it to me. Because sparkles- because sparkles-“ Their voice wobbled and they couldn’t finish that sentence.

“Sparkles make everything better,” Cherri whispered softly from next to her. Newsie nodded, trying not to cry.

The mirth on the Witch’s face was gone, replaced by true, genuine pity. “You care so much.”

“Yeah, of course I fucking do. He’s my brother, asshole.”

Cherri’s form was flickering again, and Newsie wished she knew what that meant as the Witch smiled softly. It was a bit of a sad, pitying smile, which they really didn’t appreciate, but they guessed they did make for a pitiful sight. Sandy and dusty, tear tracks on their face as they leaned against a wall and offered a pitiful little pack of glitter in exchange for the person they loved most in the world. 

“So…are you going to take the glitter?” Maybe it was dumb, maybe she should know the Witch would never accept glitter, but she had to try. 

“Yes.” 

Newsie gaped at her. 

“Yes, I’ll take the glitter. Not as a reward, but as a symbol. You, NewsAGoGo, traveled uncountable miles of unreality, fought a squad of dracs, and dared defy me, a literal deity, for your brother. I am not a cruel goddess, I do not need to be. The world is cruel enough for me. And your Cherri did not deserve to die. Oh, he was asking for it, he was taunting me into swooping down to take that bracelet you gave him off his wrist and taking his soul on with me just the same, but he still didn’t deserve to die.”  

The Witch flicked Cherri on the nose, or where Newsie thought his nose ought to be. “We’ve had some conversations about it, haven’t we? Because you didn’t want to die, Cherri Cola. You wanted to not be in pain. Something everyone wants. And your sister cares so much, so I’ll give you one more chance. This is your last one, lovely.”

“I understand.”

“Of course you do, hon.” The Witch turned back to Newsie. “Keep an eye on this one. He’s a bit prone to wandering off, but he’s yours again. He belongs to the land of the living. I’ll be keeping this, though.” She tapped the bracelet on her wrist, which Newsie recognized as the one they had given Cherri. “And the glitter, just for the hell of it. Tell your friend Pony they have good taste in décor, will you?”

And just like that, she was gone. Newsie was standing alone at the entrance to Death Valley, her faithful motorcycle next to her. At first, she thought the Witch had lied, since she did seem to be utterly alone, but before long, footsteps sounded from within the valley. 

Newsie turned as a figure approached, her breath catching at the familiar face. Cherri Cola was exactly how he had been the day Newsie had left him at the radio station, not knowing she would come back to find him gone. His battered green jacket was just as ripped and dusty as ever, and there was a small scar across his right cheek, as always. The only immediately visible difference between Cherri of a few weeks ago and this Cherri was the pure white streak in his hair, white like bones and death and the salt crusted on some parts of the desert. Yet when she looked closer, she could also see a tiny spark of determination in his eyes that had been missing for a very long time.

Cherri came to a stop in front of her, smiling cautiously. “Hey.” 

Newsie didn’t know if they should cry, yell at him, or hug him. They settled for a mixture of all three, sprinting over to hug him tightly as they unleashed all the bottled swear words and tears of the past few weeks. “Fuck you, Cherri! Dipshit! Bitch boy! Fucking rat bastard, you left me! You left me alone and I- and I was scared.” Their voice dropped on the last few words.

“I know, I’m sorry.” Cherri’s voice was very soft. “I should never have left.”

A bit of her fierceness came back at that, with another couple of swear words to unleash. “No, you fucking shouldn’t have! Asshole. Little shit! You died, you fucker! You died and I had to walk so fucking far to get you back, fuckface!”

“I’m sorry, Newsie. I’m so sorry.” 

She sniffled, unable to stay mad for long. “Just never do that again. Ever. I’m not fighting a squad of dracs to save some child so I can get directions to a fucking fake radio shack and talk to a cryptic deity next time.”

“There won’t be a next time,” Cherri said softly. “I promise.”

“Cross your heart and hope to die?”

He crossed his heart, giving her a very serious look. “I swear on my best poetry and Show Pony’s glitter stash.”

They let out a sound somewhere between a sob and a laugh. “Now you can never break it, Pone would never forgive you if something happened to their glitter stash.”

“Exactly.” His eyes were glimmering with tears as well, but he was smiling as Newsie led him back to her motorcycle with a “Hop on, fuckface.”

It felt safe to have Cherri’s arms wrapped around her again, his head leaning on her shoulder as she revved the engine. He was a warm, safe presence, just as he had been in the unreality-reality place, but this time he was a solid one. A real one.

They might have been tired as all fuck, but that didn’t stop them from grinning as Cherri muttered something about it probably not being safe for her to drive while this tired. “Hang on, fucker. We’re going home.” 

Home was, as it had been for quite a while now, a (mostly) structurally sound radio station in the middle of the desert. It was almost nightfall by the time they pulled up in front of the radio shack, and Newsie was yawning as she climbed off the bike with another huge yawn. Cherri practically had to carry her to the door, but in her defense, he wasn’t the one who had walked however many miles, got in a firefight, and argued with a deity today. So they felt no guilt in leaning against him as he paused on the porch, using his free hand to knock gently on the door.

They were met by an exhausted-looking Show Pony, eyes red-rimmed and blood-shot as ey opened the door. “I’m sorry, no visitors today- Newsie?! Cherri?!?”

Cherri waved with his free hand. “Hey.”

“Am I just seeing things?” Pony’s voice was as shocked as eir face, which was very.

“Not seeing things, bastard,” Newsie yawned. “I said I was getting Cherri, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, but you’ve been missing a month, Gogo! D and I thought you were ghosted like your bro!”

It probably was not an appropriate reaction, but the first thing out of her mouth was “No wonder I’m so thirsty.”

Cherri started laughing at that, and after a second so did Pony, half-hysterically. “Well, we’ve got water, that’s for sure. D’ll give you plenty, he’ll be so glad you’re alive!” Ey led them inside, still laughing in a somewhat hysterical way. “D, we’ve got some rat bastards alive and back on our hands!”

“Fuck you, Pone.” 

“She’s kidding, we love you,” Cherri yawned.

“And I love you too, but you can’t just- just up and disappear! The lot of you, honestly.” 

D’s face was only slightly less shocked than Pony’s when he rolled into the living room, and Newsie had a feeling that was only because he was even more exhausted than em. 

“Hey,” Cherri said again. 

“Cherri- Newsie- Witch, you both, we thought you were dead!”

“Well we’re not, deal with it.” She was too tired for this shit. Shouldn’t arguing with a deity give you a pass? “Also, sorry, Pone, I traded your glitter away to the Witch.”

Ey only looked shocked for a second before eir usual grin returned. “Well, it was meant to be used somehow! Plus, sparkles…”

“Make everything better!” Newsie, Pony, and Cherri all chorused. 

D sighed. “Welcome home, you two. Never scare us like that again, alright, Newsie?”

“I wasn’t the one who wandered off and died!”

“To be fair, you kinda threatened to fight the Phoenix Witch and then vanished, sugar,” Pony put in.

Newsie flipped em off, flopping down on the sofa. “My point was, give Cherri shit instead. I’m too tired for this.”

“Oh, I plan on it.” D’s voice was vaguely threatening, but his face cracked into a smile as he turned to Cherri. “You scared the hell out of all of us.”

Cherri stared at the ground. “I know, I’m sorry.”

“And we love you so much,” D added.

Newsie grinned at her brother’s shocked face. “Uh-huh, fuckface. We love you, even if you’re a rat bastard. Now I’m going to sleep for a week, see you all later.”

“Goodnight, Newsie,” Cherri said with a smile. If anyone else said anything after that, Newsie didn’t hear it. They were out like a light within seconds.

-

In this universe, the radio station is peaceful that evening, the family reunited at long last. Cherri Cola smiles to himself as he lifts Newsie off the sofa, giving D and Pony a thumbs up as he wanders into the back of the radio station. Their room is quiet, and Newsie barely shifts when he sets her down gently on the mattress.  They do move, however, when Cherri tries to pull away, reaching out to snatch his wrist. Trapped, he has no choice but to lay down next to Newsie, earning a sleepy noise that sounds vaguely happy.

Cherri grins softly, even if she can’t see it, running his hand along the new set of scars on his arm. There will be time to think about those later, time for the conversations that have to come with that, but for now all they are is a reminder. A reminder that he’s a survivor, a reminder of what matters. 

Cherri Cola falls asleep with Newsie by his side, and the last words on his lips that night are “I love you, Newsie.”

#cherri cola #newsagogo #phoenix witch #auri writes #ttlofk #danger days #danger days fic #ttlofk fic #the true lives of the fabulous killjoys

[singofsolace]

Madam Spellman 2020 Challenge Masterlist!

Many thanks to everyone who participated in the Madam Spellman 2020 Challenge! Over five weeks, we created thirty-four, I repeat, THIRTY-FOUR fanfics, and five pieces of gorgeous fan art. A grand total of 73,530 words were published to the collection on Ao3. I am in awe of how much content was created, and over the moon at the response this challenge received. 

Since this masterlist is going to be very long, I've decided to put it all under the cut! Check out the 39 pieces of fanwork below!

Week One Prompt: New Year’s

a year has fled o’er heart and head by Singofsolace (@concreteangel1221)

Summary: Mary Wardwell has never been kissed on New Year’s Eve. Zelda seeks to rectify this grave injustice.

A Mortal Tradition by lady_needless_litany (@lady-needless-litany​)

Summary: Even though months have passed since Blackwood’s massacre, everything’s still up in the air. Zelda’s barely hanging on - and now she can’t even kill Hilda as a form of stress release.

Remembered Footsteps on Old Roads by brokenmemento 

Summary: Lilith asks Zelda to take a little trip, one that will prove difficult for her to do.

Happy New Year darling, for whatever is in store by Saturn_Silk 

(@saturn-silk)

Summary: Mary and Zelda spend New Year’s Eve together at the cottage.

this gorgeous fanart by @bainelland  

Art Description: A polaroid picture from the Spellman’s album. Taken on a New Year’s Eve night by Sabrina who accidentally walked in on a quiet moment between Zelda and Lilith. Illuminated by the Solstice Tree, with Ella Fitzgerald’s “What Are You Doing New Year’s Eve?” playing in the background. It’s one of Zelda’s favorite pictures in the whole album.

this stunning fanart by @miss-spellman (aka @asterleaf and @moon-rise )

Art Description: Zelda Spellman and Lilith stand, wrapped in an embrace. They are kissing as confetti and streamers fall around them. Zelda has one hand wrapped around Lilith’s waist, and the other is precariously holding a glass of champagne. Lilith’s hand is placed on Zelda’s cheek. 

Piece of My Heart by sweetdreamsaremadeoffish (@claire-de-macarune​)

Summary: Yes, Lilith, I love you. Yes, Lilith, this is your home now. I could never deny you. Yes, Lilith, I want you to stay.

~~

Week Two Prompt: Road Trip

Strangers by brokenmemento 

With the coven in shambles and the Academy without a sense of direction, Zelda finds a place to start rebuilding and settles on asking an unlikely person to aid her in her mission.

this will be our year (took a long time to come) by sweetdreamsaremadeoffish ( @claire-de-macarune ) 

Mary’s keys in the ignition and her head lolled back on the headrest, Zelda blew a last, elegant kiss out the back windshield to her family and trundled the old Ford down the drive, onto the passing road. They disappeared in a wink of distance rather than magic.

Road Trip by AlexusOnFire ( @alexusonfire )

Poetry, written from Lillith’s perspective.

wrestling with the wind by Singofsolace ( @concreteangel1221 )

When Lilith, the skateboarding, tomato-stealing lesbian meets Zelda, the elegant, willful daughter of a mortician, sparks (and motorcycles) fly. 

this sweet fanart by @moon-rise​  

Zelda and Lilith take an impromptu road trip and stop at a little witch friendly café. Zelda orders her black coffee and Lilith orders a coffee with 4 creams and 7 sugars. Zelda hates the colour scheme of the room but the romance of it grows on her as the sun sets and lights up Lilith’s impossibly gorgeous blue eyes. 

Pulp fiction for Zelith by @jyou-no-sonoko19​ 

(please show your support for this fabulous edit by reblogging from the original source!)

~~~

Week Three Prompt: Winter

Breathe by sweetdreamsaremadeoffish ( @claire-de-macarune​ )

"I think you have what it takes. It’s completely reasonable for you to have some support, but this needs to work. I need this to work. We both do,” Edward said, under his breath. “It’s this or go back home. You know that.”

Chasing Out The Chill by Jyou_no_Sonoko ( @jyou-no-sonoko19​ )

After the fall of the Church of Night and its ceasing to worship Lucifer, Zelda in her new role as self-appointed High Priest has to transition them to the Church of Lilith. And while she believes in her Patron, it is a difficult adjustment to make. Lilith grows concerned for her and plans a little getaway.

Dance Under the Winter Sky by TommorowNeverCame ( @its-a-goode-day )

A year later, the coven has a winter ball. Zelda decides it's time for her and Lilith to be happy.

Double Black Diamond by Singofsolace ( @concreteangel1221 )

When Zelda Spellman gets driven off the ski trail by the Judas Boys, Lilith (the snowboarding lesbian) comes to her aid.

Fire and Ice by Saturn_Silk ( @saturn-silk​ )

Lilith really wants to go ice skating, and eventually, Zelda caves in and takes her.

Their Heart Grew Cold by stellastellaforstar ( @stellastellaforstar​ )

She looked beautiful, Zelda could tell even through the haze of snow. Her glasses were foggy and her nose was red, but every snowflake seemed to land so beautifully on her head.

These Winters Can Be Maddening by brokenmemento 

Winter through the eyes of Zelda Spellman at three points in her life.

Winter by AlexusOnFire ( @alexusonfire​ )

a lovely winter poem!

winter and hard earth by CallmeCordelia 

Zelda observes the Winter Solstice. Lilith observes her.

~~~~

Week Four: Alternate Universe

Like a fool, I fell in love with you by Saturn_Silk ( @saturn-silk​ )

Zelda Spellman, Greendale’s local coroner, needs a date for her sister’s wedding and who better than her colleague Detective Lilith Morningstar. Will they get away with it? Or will it turn into something more?

Lady Justice by Singofsolace ( @concreteangel1221​ )

Lieutenant Lilith Demos had spent the last twenty years investigating New York City’s most sensitive crimes. She was intimately familiar with the worst humanity had to offer, but getting justice for rape victims made everything else worthwhile. There was no case too perverse or too delicate for her to handle; she always remained coolly professional, no matter the situation. But that all changed the day Zelda Spellman walked into her squad room. Bringing Zelda’s abuser to justice proves to be her most difficult case yet, and it doesn’t help that Zelda is extremely uncooperative when it comes to the investigation. 

The Muse by AlexusOnFire ( @alexusonfire​ )

Zelda Spellman attends an art class. Lilith is her muse.

No Man is an Island by brokenmemento 

Zelda and her roommate Lilith have been fighting with this thing for five years. With the rain comes absolution. AKA the Madam Spellman as Grace and Frankie AU.

Vying Off Course by Claraon ( @sheep-in-space​ )

Her eyes stop in their track, surprised at spotting the eldest member of the Spellman family sitting at the bar. Her frock is modest enough – a pale linen thing with a simple blue lacing, and her strawberry hair is tied back in a conservative bun –  but she somehow manages to look at once regal yet perfectly at home among the buccaneers and other shady characters crowding the place.

We Lost the Sea by bainel ( @bainelland​ )

Their eyes locked for a second across the room, and Lilith felt her breath catch in her throat. She felt as if the whole room had faded away. For a fraction of a second, they were the only two people in the inn. But then the bartender placed a glass of amber liquid next to the redheaded woman. She turned away, towards her drink, and the moment was over.

Lilith gets dragged into a series of events that will lead her into one of her greatest adventures yet.

Wild with Adventure by stellastellaforstar ( @stellastellaforstar​ )

It’s a wild west AU, y'all! Sheriff Zelda and Outlaw Lilith.

Your Song by sweetdreamsaremadeoffish ( @claire-de-macarune​ )

Songwriter AU

And you can tell everybody this is your song It may be quite simple but now that it’s done I hope you don’t mind, I hope you don’t mind That I put down in words How wonderful life is while you’re in the world

The Spelldelaire Children by @claire-de-macarune​ 

(please show your support of this fabulous fan art by reblogging it from the original source!)

~~~~~

Week Five Prompt: Fix It!  (the list is in alphabetical order)

a little death (une petite mort) by Singofsolace ( @concreteangel1221​ )

Mambo Marie intervenes when Zelda Spellman denies Lilith sanctuary. This changes many things, but not all things. Lilith proposes that the only way that the three of them will survive the wrath of both the Dark Lord and the Pagans is to perform an incredibly intimate ritual. Mary Wardwell stumbles upon this ritual, with gun in hand.

An Offering of Trust by paradox_n_bedrock ( @paradox-n-bedrock​ )

Zelda and Lilith try just a little harder for each other. They’re lucky Marie has an emotional intelligence greater than a potato.

Forever…(is a long time) by brokenmemento 

After the events of Part 3, things are still left hanging in the balance. Lilith forges an unlikely alliance with the least likely of suspects.

From Her Beacon-Hand by CallmeCordelia 

Lilith seeks asylum, but what will she find?

home in the heart of hell by sweetdreamsaremadeoffish ( @claire-de-macarune​ )

And all shall fade The flowers of spring The world and all the sorrow At the heart of everything

I Was Housed by Your Warmth by daisygrl ( @asterleaf​ )

Something about the other witch pulled her ever closer, made her ache inside. It was the strangest sensation: two parts nostalgia and one part pain. If she had lived lives other than this one, she would have sworn that they had met before. Perhaps their souls had passed one another by as they swam in the primordial muck.

The Witch’s Lullaby by marla_black ( @marla-black​ )

With Lilith pregnant with Lucifer’s baby, she is in need of a midwife, and who better than Zelda Spellman, the witch who has never lost a child in her life.

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Many thanks to everyone who reblogged and commented on all of these pieces! You were as much a part of this challenge as the writers and artists!

#madam spellman 2020 challenge #zelda spellman #lilith #madam spellman #spellwell #mary wardwell