#// not quite yet actually but she's ready to cross that line if no one stops her

[the-oblivious-writer]

Jealous Lover

Sam Carpenter x Fem!Reader

One-shot

Summary: Your eagerness for discussions regarding your favorite band leads to an argument with your girlfriend

Warning(s): Swearing, no pronouns but sam uses 'girlfriend' once, jealous!sam, drunk!tara, & mentions of puking/gagging

Notes: For all the fellow passionate music lovers out there, this one's for you. Maybe one day I'll dive into how I think punk/rock in general's played a role in Sam's life and how she's passed down her love for music to Tara

This is not how you wanted to spend your night. You were dragged out to a party you didn’t even want to go to. You would much rather spend the night with your girlfriend. Much rather. But you kind of owed your friend since you always managed to make up an excuse for these things in the past. Her own girlfriend was out of town visiting family so you were second in line to be her plus one. 

You were actually having an okay time, still missing your girlfriend, but you ended up having an interesting conversation with this guy you met while grabbing drinks for you and your friend. The conversation regarded music. You could never pass up the opportunity to go on and on about something you actively worshiped. But unfortunately, this little peace you found didn’t last when from the corner of your eye you noticed a familiar figure tumbling her way over to the couch. It was then you looked over to see your girlfriend’s little sister sitting with her friends. 

Ah, crap.

You knew for a fact she was not supposed to be here. You thought about what was in store for her when she got home before excusing yourself and walking over to her.

“Tara,” you said to get her attention. “Hey, uh—”

She looked up from the couch to you with a bright smile plastered on her face before getting up and wrapping her arms around you, momentarily catching you off guard. You almost forgot she was a clingy drunk. 

“Look it’s Y/N!” She shouted to her friends as you subtly winced from her volume.

“Yeah, it’s me,” you shortly laughed. You looked over Tara to see her friends, Mindy and Anika, wave to you in which you returned with a nod. “I'll take this from here,” you told them while helping Tara up after she tripped on her own foot. 

Mindy gave you a thumbs up while Tara started to slump in your arms. “Tara?” You looked down to see her wearing a more tired expression that matched her sluggish demeanor. Another thing you noticed in the time you knew the girl is that she had quite a bit of mood swings. 

“Let’s get you home,” you said with a comforting pat on her shoulder. 

—

Sam could not believe Tara. She specifically told Tara no to the party she was now off to retrieve her from. She just got home from her therapy too, Quinn had accidently slipped and told Sam where Tara was before going back to her room. As soon as Sam heard this, she rushed to put on the jacket she had just taken off. 

“That sneaky little shi—” Sam was reaching for her taser but stopped once she heard the locks on the door begin to turn, stopping in her tracks. Tara walked through the door, hiccupping and giggling, as you held her up.

“You Carpenters are really something when you’re drunk—oh, Sam! Hi!” You stopped walking, now looking at your girlfriend like a deer in headlights. You knew she would be home by now. You knew you would have some explaining to do. Yet you still found yourself unprepared as you saw her standing right by the doorway because she was presumably getting ready to hunt down her sister.

“I have a perfectly good explanation for this,” you said.

She furrowed her eyebrows, tilting her head as she crossed her arms and looked at you. “Really? You do?” She looked so intimidating, so in control of the situation. It was so hot. But you had to focus.

“Mhm,” was the only thing you managed to muster.

“Then, please, enlighten me because it looks like my sister snuck off to a party against my wishes, yet you seem to be aware of that part. So, care to tell why you didn’t throw me in the loop?”

“Okay,” you lightly sighed. You nodded your head in the direction of the living room and Sam followed. You laid Tara on the couch before you finally spoke. “When I went there, I didn’t know she would also be there. We just ran into each other and as soon as we did I brought her here,” you calmly spoke and you could see Sam slowly start to ease at your words. 

Yet that ease only lasted so long before a drunk Tara pitched in. Sam was about to reply when she was cut off by the younger Carpenter. “And some guy was flirting with Y/N,” she said before stretching out her arms and dramatically yawning. 

Always an instigator. 

“Some guy was what?” You could hear it in Sam’s voice that any ease you brought her disapparated. If her voice didn’t give you anything, her expression certainly did; her eyebrows were scrunched as she clenched her jaw and flared her nostrils. 

“It wasn’t like that,” you quickly tried to reassure your girlfriend. “He noticed the album cover on my shirt and he said it's his favorite album. A conversation struck up but it was nothing more than two fans expressing their mutual appreciation for a band and their music.” 

“You talked about music?” Her tone was defensive as she adjusted her crossed arms, attempting a stoic stance to cover any hurt she felt upon hearing what you just revealed. 

She knew how much you valued music, what it meant to you. It isn’t like your love language, it is your love language. When you first started hanging out, instead of the typical bouquet of flowers, you made her a playlist, gifting it to her on a CD. Now she finds any excuse to listen to it 24/7, never growing sick of the intimate playlist you constructed with songs that you said made you think of her. Even on your first date with the older Carpenter, the two of you talked for hours discussing all the greats—from Kurdt Cobain to Jimi Hendrix. Sam also had a connection to music, growing up it was her escape from the outside world. So, inevitably, it played a big part in your relationship. You two met in a record store for Pete's sake. So yes, she grew a somewhat possessive once she found out you were discussing one of your all time favorite bands with a man who was supposedly flirting with you. 

“You sure that’s all he wanted to talk about? Wouldn't be the first time someone's blatantly flirted with you but you were too oblivious to notice.” She let out a dry chuckle, her voice vindictive. 

“Yes, that’s it. Music is all we talked about. What? Am I not allowed to talk to other people now?” You remarked, a little more unapologetic than you intended. Sam didn’t have a jealousy problem per se, she just had trouble drawing the line between possessive and protective. Often, those lines blurred to the point where even you had trouble telling them apart. 

Fine, maybe she did have a jealousy problem.

“Talking and flirting are two different things. Excuse me if I don’t want my girlfriend conversing with people who want more than musical insight,” Sam defended pointedly. 

“You’re saying that as if he was all over me. The point is he wasn’t.” Your patience was thinning as you were running out of reassuring words to say. 

“I’m—” Sam had begun but was once again cut off by Tara who was now gagging.

“Shit, I think I’m gonna puke!” Tara shouted as she tried to make it to the bathroom. You and Sam rushed to her aid, the both of you desperately hoping that you would get Tara to the bathroom in time. 

—

After about an hour of holding Tara’s hair back as she puked—you and Sam rotating—you and Sam finally managed to put a very pouty Tara to bed. As Sam adjusted Tara's pillow, you pulled her blanket over her and adjusted the sides. Sam kissed her forehead and you followed with a light pat on her head before the both of you said ‘goodnight’ to the now snoring girl. 

Upon hearing the soft click Tara’s bedroom door gave from gently closing it, the two of you let out exhausted sighs. You both walked to the kitchen, Sam leaning against the counter as you opened the cabinets looking for a mug.

“You want some tea?” You asked your girlfriend, already grabbing the lavender tea she stored in the drawers just below where the mugs were kept. 

You glanced over to see her nodding, giving you a nonverbal answer. You got the tea kettle out and filled it with water using the kitchen sink. You then placed it on the stove, set the heat to an appropriate temperature, and then placed the small box of lavender tea to the side for when the water is finished boiling. Another moment of silence passes before you divert your attention from the kettle to your girlfriend. 

“Sam…”  You finally spoke in a gentle voice.

“I know.” She wasn’t curt with her words but understanding. 

You lightly exhaled, making your way over next to Sam. You leaned against the counter before asking, “Are you gonna talk to me or just try to wait it out like every other time?” You weren’t demanding but genuinely asking her.

You looked at her, your faces not so far apart, you saw the reluctant and shameful look she wore. This made you slightly furrow your eyebrows as you looked at the woman. 

“I hate the thought of you with anyone else,” she answered. She looked to the ground in shame. Shame for letting her thoughts consume her like this, shame for letting it lead to an argument with you. What if you discovered just how deep her jealousy ran? You would leave her, that’s what. At least, that’s what she told herself would happen.

You lifted her chin with your free hand so she would look at you, but you saw her eyes hesitate to comply. “Look at me, Sammy,” you told her and it was enough for her to listen. “I’m yours and only yours. No one else can have me like you do. No one else,” you said with great truth. 

Sam’s heart skipped a beat at your words, melting at how your thumb softly grazed her chin. Your touch could have her crumble in mere seconds. That scares apart of her, but another part of her can't help but admire it.

“I was being ridiculous.” She shook her head, still feeling guilt for giving you a hard time for talking about something you’re passionate about.

“That’s in the past now.” You gave her a smile that’s always been enough to brighten her days. “Just know you’re the only music dork I want in my bed,” you teased.

A gorgeous smile grazed Sam’s face at this comment. “Oh, yeah? I feel the exact same way about you,” she said as you both began to lean in.

“Good, we balance each other out,” you flirted back right before you two closed the gap between you, your lips meeting halfway. Her lips were warm and soft, and you could taste her nightly cigarette on them. You tilted your head and parted your own lips to deepen the kiss and give her tongue access, but the forgotten tea kettle on the stove whistled, interrupting the kiss before it could escalate. 

You and Sam broke apart, slightly panting, as you both wore shit eating grins. “I should go set up the tea,” you said with warm cheeks.

Sam nodded with an, “Okay,” but her eyes never pulled from your back as you prepared the tea. She subtly walked up behind you, putting her hands on your hips and rested her chin on your shoulder.

“Sammy,” you lightly laughed in an excited surprise. 

“Bring the tea to my room and don’t take too long. I wanna finish where we left off,” she whispered into your ear in a husky voice. You could feel her breath against your neck due to this, your heart racing in response. 

Sam sauntered off to her room, but not without leaving a kiss just below the corner of your jaw. If you noticed her taking a subtle bite then you didn’t comment. The kiss sent shivers down your spine, and after snapping out of the daze Sam put you in, you quickly went back to the tea. You never made tea so briskly before tonight. 

Later, Sam kept on her promise. She may have left a few hickeys for the world to see but you could never prove she did it with possessive intent.

That was just for her to know.

-----------

A/N: and if I said y/n was wearing an 'In Utero' shirt?? (ofc, imagine whatever shirt you'd like)

[goldsbitch]

Just don't talk-

-if you can't hear me. p2 to Just don't talk

summary: Enemies to lovers on steroids. Lando can't stand Y/N, the first female driver in F1. He also can't stand not having her with her clothes on.

warnings: minors do not interact, biting, cursing...just generally don't take this one too seriously

It would have been too obvious by the media teams to put Lando and Y/N together in a video out of the blue without any obvious reasons. The brands were not connected in any way and had a completely different online strategy. But serious damage had been done by the two at their last joint interview, so there was a meeting between the teams and F1 media and the request to have them paired up together at a next bubbly F1 video was bargained for and agreed upon in exchange for some favors.

There was a long and very detailed briefing for each of them. At the end they even received something resembling a script. They were both quite good at public speaking and charming the crowds, but it only worked on a spontaneity and intuition base. They were far from actors and the more instructions they received, the more mad it made them, each one in a different way, of course, because hell would freeze over before these two had found something in common. Lando had to fight the urge in him to slam the doors on all of these people. All this media planning was making Y/N dizzy. Had it been anyone else, she'd be slaying this like a pro. But for some stupid reason the PR teams were just not going to let them go and bury their little feud down. She thought this was a bad idea anyway - nothing good could come out of this.

And yet, there they were. Getting ready for the shoot in an F1 hospitality centre, with twenty other people, mostly film crew members. The two barely looked at each other, let alone said hello, just casually pretending the other one is invisible. The director really tried to get them hyped up before the shoot, resulting in one of the most awkward silence the poor lady had ever had the misfortune to have on her set. Only once she gave up and excused herself pretending to be adjusting the camera shot, did Lando shoot a quick look at Y/N. She'd already been looking at him. In that one look they shared their own hidden amusement, obviously enjoying having people being thrown into awkward situations because of their own incompetence to manage each other. At least, this was what Y/N was thinking. Lando was thinking about the gap between her thighs. And only she saw the way his eyes shot down shamelessly to her chest and giving her a quick approving look, probably non verbally complimenting the way hot the race suit covered her chest tightly.

"Who does a whisper challenge in this day and age anyway?" was an unspoken thought that many people shared while getting ready for yet another whisper challenge video to complete the collage of several driver from different team duos, one of which being the pair that was secretly playing with each other under the bedsheets every other night.

Finally, after final touch ups, they were sitting on a couch, across each other and as far away as the couch allowed. That was a conscious decision, as their bodies were becoming so familiar to the proximity and contact, that they had to actively stop each other from mimicking each other's gestures. "Ok guys, I understand this might not be the most comfortable thing you ever did, but we will have to push through it. Lando, will you be ready to introduce the video concept?"

"Yeah, sure," Lando sighed, trying desperately not let anything he that was actually on his mind slip his mouth. Like for example how stupid this was.

He turned his full on youtuber style speech mode on within seconds, actually shocking Y/N.

"Welcome everyone, we're here with F1 and today, we'll be trying a cross team whisper challenge - you never know with whom you'll be sharing a team in the next years anyway!" he said, having the first line vaguely memorized.

"Cut," said the director immediately after that first line. "Thank you Lando, that was some great energy," she dug deep into her professional training and started on the one thing that was positive. "But, the line should be something like "because we rarely get to know one another", your version is opening up place for some unwanted speculations. And, Y/N, you were obviously not ready, as your expression in more of a shock that excitement." It took them five more takes on this before the director made a note mentally to shoot a back up version with a different driver pair.

All the questions had a weird undertone. They were competing more than this situations required. People normally laughed during the takes - Lando was an expert on this, he did videos like this with Oscar often, and he gave him almost nothing to work with. He still managed. Not with Y/N. Tension grew over time. Y/N got almost all of her guesses on the first go. When it was his time, he was opted for staying silent than taking a wrong guess, so she had to repeat everything three times at least. Nobody in the room was having fun. The media interns present were terrified of having to present this at their next meeting and were already trying to find the most upbeat song to pair this up with in their group chat. Few more questions to end this nightmare of an afternoon for everyone.

"Would you like drive with me or do you prefer Oscar?" Lando's face was blank. Not giving any reaction. Y/N took a deep breath and looked to Lando's eyes once again. Same look as she had that one time he tied her up. Frustrated. "Would you like drive with me or do you prefer Oscar?" Still nothing. Dry. She smiled and repeated, loudly as if that was to help. "Would you like drive with me or do you prefer Oscar?" Lando finally responded. Without a beat. "Would you like to ride with me to see who comes first? Brain reads what the mind wants. One would think silence does not have a volume. Anyone present in that room on that day would know better. There were levels to silence and this was a loud one.

Now, innuendos were fairly normal theme in whisper challenges. And they were fun, little things to spice a lonely afternoon for those who were watching. But there was just something in the chemistry these two had that you could not just laugh it off or go on the "will they won't they" route. Aggressive undertone overcame any other vibes. There were two other lines for Lando to guess, he did not get any of them and the whole shoot was quickly wrapped up after. Both of them exited, again, without a word to anyone. Y/N was fuming internally. She texted Lando to come and see her immediately. So her dressing room it was.

"What the fuck, Lando?!"

"Hello to you too, miss fun," he responded, annoyed as ever.

"Don't. Just don't."

Communication was definitely not something they'd win contests at.

"You're exhausting me! I'm like...so mad!"

"Eloquent. You should write poetry. Would be treat to read," he responded, unfased by her outburst.

"Fine. Fuck you then," she lost it completely, anger and frustration built up in her finally taking the best of her. He thought she was mad? He hadn't seen mad. She could not care less of what he thought of her. When she got closer to him, he thought she was going for a kiss. Instead she grabbed him arm and bit him hard. Shock wave ran thought Lando and he froze in the spot. She held her teeth in long and firmly. Shock was quickly replaced by pain, a lot of pain. He played a hero for few moments and then gasped. She stopped with the first sound he made. He stared at her, shocked, confused and weirdly turned on. The pain turned into adrenaline high. A really strange high. He quickly looked at his arm and saw a bruise forming, marking the shape of her teeth. She had a proud look on her face, finally getting it out of her system.

"Great. Better now. Hope it stays on for weeks."

With that, she walked away, leaving confused and dazed Lando behind in her dressing room. He could still feel her teeth in and the adrenaline as if he had just drank three double espressos in one sitting. Why was this turning him on. Why was anything she did the hottest thing anyone ever did. And how the fuck was he suppose to cover this up. He had a photoshoot scheduled for tomorrow. And when was he going get to fuck her again?

p3

[ghostofskywalker]

Could I please request something with padmé???

Maybe the reader is a Jedi that is frequently sent to watch over her so they are good friends and one day padmé tells the reader about her secret relationship with Anakin only to be told later that the reader is also in a secret relationship???? (Idk who maybe rex or obi wan (but you can decide who if you think someone else is better)

Thank you ✧⁺⸜(●˙▾˙●)⸝⁺✧

this is such a cute prompt omg!! i went with rex, and i hope you enjoy :)

words: 693

summary: both anakin and padme have tried to set you up on dates, but you don't actually need their help.

clone troopers masterlist

“I think Rex is seeing someone,” Anakin said as he and Padmé laid in bed together one evening. The sky outside was just beginning to grow dark, and Padmé could feel fatigue taking over, but she didn’t want to fall asleep just yet. Anakin had just returned from a lengthy tour on the font lines of the war, and the feeling of being in his arms was something she didn’t want to give up too quickly. 

“Really?” she murmured, fighting back the tiredness. “Good for him.” 

“I always thought I should set him up with someone,” Anakin said. “But apparently I don’t need to anymore.” 

“Maybe you can focus on setting Y/N up with someone then,” Padmé said. “I keep trying to, but she won’t listen to me. Maybe the idea coming from another Jedi would be different.”

“Yeah, she’s always been a real rule follower,” Anakin said. “Even if more of the Order are in relationships now than not, it’s basically an open secret.” 

***

You and Padmé were close, as you didn’t really spend much time on the front lines. Instead, your service to the Republic was mostly through the Senate, where you worked with different politicians as both a secure presence and as an extra ear for some of their plans. It just so happened that you spent most of that time with Padmé, and you had developed quite a close friendship. 

The couch in her Coruscanti apartment was lovely, the cushions made of the softest silks and it felt like you were sitting on a cloud. Waiting for Padmé to get ready, your mind wandered and the daydreams began to take shape, even if soon you realized that you had apparently missed about three sentences of Padmé speaking to you. She stepped into the room all dressed and ready, and she looked at you with an expectant smile on her face. 

“What?” you asked, eyebrows raised

“Come on, you have to let me set you up with someone,” she responded, and instantly you knew what this was about. But what she didn’t know was that you were in no need of her services, and the reason wasn’t because you were a Jedi. 

“Padmé-” 

“Come on, if Anakin and I can be married than I don’t see why you can’t go on a date or two.” 

Your eyes widened as she spoke. “What?” 

She stopped, clearly just now realizing what she said. “Okay, maybe I didn’t want to tell you like that, but the point stands.” 

Amused by the absurdity of it all, you started laughing. “I guess if you came clean about it, I should too,” you said. “I’m perfectly happy in the relationship I currently have, and I really don’t need anyone to set me up.” 

Now it was Padmé’s turn to look shocked. “Wait, with who?” she said, the smile on her face growing more each second. 

“You’ve met Captain Rex, right?” you said quietly, still a little nervous to be telling anyone your biggest secret. 

What looked like five emotions at once crossed Padmé’s expression, but she spoke with grace, likely because she could sense how nervous you were. “I think the two of you make a lovely couple,” she said sincerely, and you could feel a smile begin to break across your face at that. 

“Thanks,” you said. “I think so too.” 

“Does Anakin know?” she asked. “That one of his friends is dating the officer he works with most often?”

“I don’t think so,” you said, shaking your head. “Maybe I should tell him, he’ll probably stop trying to play matchmaker with me.” 

Padmé laughed, and a quiet giggle left your mouth as well. “I think that would be a good idea,” she said. “And I think he’d be overjoyed to know that two of his favorite people are seeing each other.” 

The steadily growing feeling of comfort and warmth in your heart began to swell, and you could feel any remaining worry about what Padmé would think melt away. And hey, now the four of you could go on double dates (under the guise of Official Senate, Jedi, and GAR Business of course).

- the end -

i no longer have a taglist! if you're interested in being notified when i post, you can follow my library blog @ghostofskywalker-library and turn on notifications!

[scarlettriot]

SHE LIT A FIRE • PT 7.5

Pairing: Dad!Kirishima x F!Reader

Contains: Fluff, Aged Up Characters & lots of kisses

Warnings: Swearing, make outs, tooth rotting fluff, I don't wanna tag smut because it really isn't but still Minors and Ageless Blogs DNI just to be on the safe side.

Summary: You and Kiri make this the longest five minutes ever.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Father’s Day Special

Tag List: Will Be In The Comments. If you'd like to be added, message me or comment.

A/N: Hey everyone. I know any update to this fic is long over due and this really isn't much at all but I wanted to give you all something! I hope you enjoy this little snack and that it can hold you over until chapter eight is finished up. I also didn't proof read this so I'm sorry if there are errors...

Word Count: 900ish

It’s a little funny how easy it can be for two people to lose all sense of time. How five minutes quickly becomes ten, pretty soon fifteen, and before either of them can process it, twenty whole minutes have slipped by. You weren’t quite sure how you ended up on the sofa, or when exactly Eijiro pulled you into his lap with the hem of your dress bunching up so you could straddle his thighs with ease. At some point you freed his hair from the tie he had it back in, and he let you slip each button on his dress shirt free too until it hung loose on his wide frame.

You both knew you were tempting fate, living on borrowed time, he should have left by now and gotten home but each time one of you pulled away, the other came crashing back like two magnets that couldn’t be pulled apart. Hands roamed like they were searching for something and yet, they didn’t venture too far. It seemed there were some lines you both knew just couldn’t be crossed this evening despite the wetness that formed between your thighs and the way his cock hardened between his. 

“I don’t wanna go…” He confessed against your neck in between needy kisses. His words were thick and laced with desire that you felt deep in your core. 

You tugged enough on his roots to make him lift his head. “Your parents didn’t plan for a sleepover,” you reminded him softly with a tender kiss to his lips and followed it up with a couple more along his stubbled jawline. “And I’m sure they’ll be worried about you if you’re not home soon.” 

Your palms were pressed against his chest and you chuckled as you felt the sigh before it actually left him. “Yeah, you’re right.” But that didn’t stop him from going in for yet another searing kiss that left you whimpering into his mouth. Each one the two of you shared left you longing for each other even more than before, unsure how that was even possible.

“You know if Remi was at their place–”

“I know you’d stay, Eiji.”

It meant the world to you just to hear him say it though. If he didn’t have obligations that he loved and took so very seriously, you knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he’d stay with you all night long. Doing whatever you wanted. Not pressing you for a single thing you weren’t ready for. You just knew that was the kind of guy he was. 

“Good,” He murmured, “as long as you know.”

His hands trailed down your body, thumbs grazing your breasts ever so slightly on the way down to your plush hips where he squeezed affectionately, pulling you flush against him for another deep kiss before lifting you up again. 

It had to be now, no matter how much the two of you didn’t want this night to end. “Call me when you’re home safe.” You said as you walked hand in hand to the door and this time when you rose to kiss him it was fully intentional and right on his lips that turned up into a lovable dopey grin when you pulled away. 

“Always, sweets. Oh– turn around f’me would ya?” 

You spun in front of him and his fingers found that zipper once again. He pulled it down nice and slow so you heard each of the teeth coming apart. He kissed your spine as the fabric split in two and stopped just above your tailbone, “so fuckin’ hard t’leave you.” He groaned and turned you back around for a final goodnight kiss that left you breathless and pinned against your doorway. “I’ll call ya soon.” 

“You better! Drive safe!” You called as he walked down the hallway and he waited until your door closed and he heard the lock slide home before calling the elevator. 

As he waited for it to arrive he still wore that child-like grin. And in the metal of the elevator doors, he could see blush still pooled in his cheeks and ran down the column of his neck. 

He swore he could still taste you on his tongue and feel your softness against his palms, gods, he was never gonna forget a single thing about you or about this night. In the seconds that passed waiting for the elevator he found himself dreaming up future dates and nights out with you. Events that were coming up like the gala… maybe Remi could stay with his parents that night–

The downward arrow lit up and a bell chimed the elevator's arrival dragging him from various day dreams but when the doors slid open, Eijiro realized the small space wasn’t completely empty. One man stood inside. Black slacks and shiny shoes, dress shirt still on but he was missing his jacket and tie, and his red eyes under messy blonde hair looked appropriately exhausted when they met Eijiro’s. 

Katsuki’s brows knitted together when he saw just who was waiting on the other side of the doors. “What’re you still doin’ here? You guys left hours ago– oh.” Understanding washed over his best friends  face as he noticed a look of happiness on the man’s face that was so rare he wasn’t sure he’d ever seen it before. “Heh. It’s about fuckin' time.” 

[bakedbakermom]

Enough.

Rated X / 4800 words / tagging @today-in-fic @ao3feed-msr / posted on ao3

Summary: Dana Scully has had enough.

Author's Note: This is the first fanfic I have written, in this or any other fandom, for almost 20 years. It felt great to stretch the old muscles, and I hope you enjoyed it. Comments will be printed, laminated, and hung on the wall <3

_________

God, I only meant to kiss him, Scully thought, gasping, before Mulder’s tongue swirled around her nipple and she lost the ability to think.

And it was true - thoughts of kissing Mulder had been brewing deep in her core for weeks, crowding out her ability to think of much else. She had found herself watching his mouth when she should have been listening to his words, and feeling vaguely envious of everything that touched his lips. He brought them some truly terrible vending machine coffee during an all-nighter at a crummy hotel in the midwest, and the way his tongue had toyed with the little opening on the lid as he waited for it to cool made her thighs clench. In yet another rental car on yet another nameless backroad, she watched his jaw work as he split the shells of his favorite sunflower seeds, wondering how that sharp tongue that worked them so deftly open would feel in her own mouth, if he would taste of salt and beer. He licked barbecue sauce from his fingers at an all-night diner in the middle of nowhere, his tongue swirling around tips, and she had nearly choked on her iced tea.

Oh yes, thoughts of kissing Mulder had been occupying her more and more. And from the way he would catch her eye, sending her an almost imperceptible smirk each time he saw her watching, he knew exactly the effect he was having on her. She kept waiting for him to stop being such a gentleman, to take that first bold step the way he so often did. But each time she felt that line rising up to be crossed, he pulled away.

And Dana Scully had had enough.

She’d decided tonight, as she rode up the elevator for one of their not-a-date-nights that had become their post-case norm of late, that she was ready - or more accurately, that she was so far past ready that she might actually die if she didn’t kiss him soon. She brought wine - nothing too fancy, nothing that would be out of place in the mismatched glasses he kept in the cabinet, but a step up from the usual ales and lagers they usually shared. And she wore a soft v-neck sweater cut just a tad lower than she would usually wear, the better to show off the enticing cleavage her new bra presented. 

When she had slipped into the matching panties, she had very firmly told herself it was simply a personal preference for symmetry, and not any sort of statement about where this desperately-needed kiss would lead.

From the moment he popped Tarantula into the VCR (for the fourth time, “It’s a classic, Scully!”), she had begun planning her move. She drained her first glass of wine faster than she should have, before he’d even finished making the popcorn, letting the liquid courage percolate through her system. He settled in beside her with a large bowl in his lap, loaded with butter and salt just how she likes it, just the way he’s talked her into liking it; and she eased herself slowly closer to him on the worn leather couch until the heat of his thigh pressed against her own. By the time Leo G. Carrol’s assistant went up in flames, she was nestled quite cozily against him. She watched him from the corner of her eye, and saw with some satisfaction that he was watching her as well. 

She had never let herself get quite this close to him before, or at least not without some life-threatening context. (Except for that time on the baseball diamond, when she thought maybe this was it, but he had done nothing more than flirt and hit pop-flies and leave her flushed and frustrated).

But there were no invisible forest men now, no cultists armed with rifles, no bees or beasts or black-suited thugs. Just them, and a cheesy sci-fi movie, and a bowl of popcorn in his lap so that each time she reached for a handful she was acutely aware of just what lay beneath it; with each bite he would slowly lick the salt from his lips, and something in her heart would sputter. She had the sudden sense he was doing it on purpose - that he knew exactly what she was thinking, and as always, their minds were traveling down the same road together.

When the giant spider crested the dry scrubby hills surrounding Desert Rock, Arizona, to devour the hero, he had draped his arm across the back cushions, the very picture of a nervous teenager at the drive-in. She took the chance to move more closely still, the heat and the scent of him nearly overwhelming. Her heartbeat seemed to thrum through every inch of her body, and she felt certain he could feel it through her skin. She had stopped watching the screen entirely, unable to concentrate on anything but the pounding of her heart and the body of the man beside her. When she couldn’t stand it another second, she took one last breath for courage, turned in the circle of his arm, and tilted up to press her mouth to his.

The first brush of their lips was tentative, soft, toe-curlingly tender and if he tasted like wine and popcorn instead of seeds and beer, well, she was absolutely not complaining. When his tongue brushed against her lower lip, she opened for him, and the way his tongue slid into her mouth felt like coming home. Scully had thought that it would be enough just to kiss him, just  to sit together on the creaking leather of his old couch, under the warm, scratchy weight of the Navajo blanket he kept there more for her sake than for his, and languidly lap at the font of his mouth until morning. 

What she hadn’t anticipated, but in hindsight should have known based on years of observing his oral fixation, was that Fox Mulder would be an absolutely amazing kisser. He was slow and exploratory and unrelenting, running his tongue along her teeth and her lips and the roof of her mouth as if he could read her desires written there in braille. He nibbled at her lower lip and suckled at the upper and still she really could have just kissed, just necked him like a teenager for hours, until he cupped her jaw with one wide hand and his thumb brushed against the pulse point in her throat and she whimpered. Actually whimpered, a wholly unexpected, desperate, animal sound that she would have found utterly embarrassing had he not answered with a soft growl that reverberated down her throat and straight into her pelvis, and it was all bets off from there.

A whirl of hands and mouths and somehow she is lying half beneath him, his shirt gone and her sweater pushed up and that pretty new bra pulled down to expose one rosey-peaked breast to the dual pleasures of his hand and his mouth. When her knee brushes against his growing erection, he bites her nipple just hard enough to make her gasp. He chuckles into her skin and looks up to meet her eyes, delighted to find her pupils blown out with lust and her cheeks turning a beautiful shade of pink. Her fingers curl in his hair and pull; he releases her nipple with a sinfully wet pop and crashes his mouth into hers with a force that clacks their teeth together.

He rolls her over his body until she’s straddling him, heat blooming everywhere they touch. The soft springy hairs of his chest tickle her oversensitive skin, and he runs his hands from her shoulders, down the fine curve of her waist to grip and knead at the firm flesh of her ass. She scratches her nails across the broad plains of his shoulders - softly at first, then more firmly when he hums his assent into her mouth. The muscles of his back flex beneath her hands, and his whole body shudders as she moves them to his front, his nipples pebbling beneath her touch.

He pulls her down against him and presses up at the same time, trying to find some relief for the near-painful ache in his groin. She moans into his mouth and he does it again, and she arches against him in pleasure.

Mulder uses this distraction to pull her top off all the way, unclasping her bra with one hand and bringing his mouth back to her breast before the fabric has even hit the floor. She writhes above him, panting and gasping as he learns the right combination of lips, teeth, and tongue to make her shudder. Always such a curious mind, single-focused and driven, now turned to uncovering the mysteries of her body, and she revels in being the object of his obsession.

“I want you, Scully,” he whispers as he moves to the other breast. She arches into his mouth but doesn’t answer.

He stills, eyes wary, that lost little boy inside peeking through. Waiting for rejection, waiting for her to say it was all a mistake and walk away. With their height difference, their eyes are level now even with her straddling his lap. He brushes a lock of hair out of her eyes and gently thumbs her cheekbones. The sadness in his voice is palpable.  “Do you want to stop?” 

She shakes her head just slightly, her brows knitting together and her mouth moving into a particular smirk that, in the complex language of Scully Microexpressions, means I need a second to find the right words. His hands skim along her sides, walking the line between comforting, tickling, and arousing. It takes a few deep breaths before she remembers how to speak; the last one comes out on a shudder as she presses her lips to his forehead. 

The credits are rolling on the TV across the room, the monster immolated and the town safe; shadows flicker over their faces as she looks into his eyes, unsurprised to find a sheen of unshed tears there that matches her own. She had thought that meeting his gaze after they had kissed - or, more accurately, after he had her nipple in his mouth and his erection pressing against her - might be awkward, but like everything else between them the last seven years, it somehow feels natural. They’re stepping across this line together.

“I don’t want to stop, Mulder,” she whispers, nuzzling along his nose, “I’ve just been thinking about kissing you for so long, I never really let myself think about what might come after.”

“Mmm,” he hums into her skin, peppering her face with kisses before moving down her neck and along her collarbone. “Good thing I have.”

“Oh?” Her eyebrow lifts; he can hear it in her voice even though his face is buried in her hair.

“Often, and in great detail.” His lips find that same pulse point, right where her jaw meets her throat, and he grins as her thighs squeeze his. One hand cups the back of her head, tilting her this way and that so his mouth can reach every possible inch of skin; the other hand comes up to her breast, kneading and rolling. She is soft and pliant above him, allowing him to explore, making soft sounds each time he finds a sensitive spot, and his profiler’s mind is tucking each one away for later.

“Tell me,” she pants as he presses a kiss to the hollow of her throat. She slips her hand between them and presses her palm against the thick ridge of his erection, grinning as he moans into her skin. “Show me.”

"Christ, Scully. Where should I begin?" Mulder presses another kiss to her lips, so soft and tender she forgets how to breathe for a moment. He sips at her like fine wine, savoring each taste of her tongue, her lips, the ivory ridge of her teeth. By the time he pulls back she is shivering, aching to see what happens next.

"There is one thing I fantasize about quite frequently," he husks close to her ear. The scratch of his stubble is intoxicating. "I can't stop wondering what you taste like." He reaches between them to cup her, hot and throbbing, through her slacks, and her blushing nod is the only answer she can manage.

All she can do is moan in anticipation as he leans her slowly back, supporting the full weight of her in his arms, until her shoulders come to rest on the arm of the couch, his body nestled hard and hot between her trembling thighs. 

She will never again be able to smell leather without remembering this moment.

He kisses his way down her body with a slow deliberation that borders on agonizing, nipping and sucking and licking every inch he can reach. When his tongue swirls into the dip of her navel she nearly cries with pleasure. He runs his teeth over the ridge of her hip bones as he parts the zipper on her slacks. His mouth leaves her body only long enough to shuck the pants to the floor, and then he is nosing along the hem of her panties. 

"Fuck, Scully, I can smell you." He runs his fingers over the lacy fabric, scraping his nails along the gusset until she shakes. "You're so wet, you're soaking through."

With anyone else she might have felt embarrassed, but Mulder's words only enflame her further. She rolls her hips, shamelessly rubbing herself against him. "Please," she pants, "please touch me."

He laughs darkly, continuing to run his fingers slowly up and down the length of her slit, and rubs his stubble against the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. He licks her, once, over the lace, and she bucks desperately towards his mouth. “Easy there, G-woman,” he murmurs, pressing her back down with one firm hand on her hip. “I’m living my dream, here.”

She laughs, a short huff that eases some of the tension in her gut, and tries to relax into his ministrations. He smiles as she softens beneath him, and rewards her by sliding one long finger under the sheer scrap of fabric, just barely grazing her entrance. “So wet,” he says again. 

He looks up to see that her eyes have fluttered closed. “Look at me,” he says, and when she finds enough will to meet his eyes, he lifts his finger, glistening with her wetness, into his mouth and sucks deeply. "You're just as sweet as I imagined."

“Fuck,” she whimpers, and knows she is dripping. “More. Please.”

Apparently he renders her monosyllabic.

“How much do you love these?” he asks, appraising the delicate lace, the tiny stitches along the seams.

“Not at all. Hate them. Please.” She is gasping, writhing, and when he rips her panties off she nearly keens with pleasure.

He stares at her for so long she begins to feel nervous, and a flush creeps up her chest and floods her cheeks. He takes in the auburn thatch of curls between her thighs, the dark pink swell of her labia, the tiny freckles sprinkled across the creamy expanse of her skin. He drags his fingers down the length of her slit, marveling at the way her lower lips spread for him, at the moisture leaking from her sweet little cunt. “Beautiful,” he breathes.

“Mulder,” she huffs, squirming, “if you don’t quit staring and touch me soon, I’m going to shoot you. Again.”

A quick grin and then his mouth is on her, his tongue lapping at the entrance to her sex, and the first brush of his lips over her clit nearly sends her over the edge. 

If the way he kissed her felt obsessive, he eats her out with something that borders on worship.

He slides one long finger inside her, then another, curling them against her front wall until he finds the spot that makes her gush and shake around him. He flicks his tongue over the hardened nub of her clitoris - slow, fast, gentle, hard - and she fists her hands in his hair when it’s just the right combination. He presses the hood back with his thumb and suckles directly on the little bundle of nerves; her belly coils tight with pleasure and she manages to gasp, “Yes, there, I’m so close, oh -” before she can’t make sense anymore.

He swirls and suckles on her clit, pumping gently in and out with his fingers, and experimentally runs his little finger down her perineum to brush gently over the tight pucker of her asshole. She shudders and her whimpers reach a new, higher pitch. He hums his satisfaction into her dripping sex, and that’s all it takes - she is gone, shaking and gasping and making strangled little cries that might be his name.

Mulder continues to lap tenderly at her sex as she comes down, riding out tremors and trembles until she is heavy-limbed and boneless beneath him. Her smile looks almost drunken as she cards her fingers through his hair. “Good, Scully?” he asks, pressing a kiss to her inner thigh.

She nods and hums, riding a cloud of oxytocin. He eases out from between her legs; her smile begins to fade into confusion until he slides one arm beneath her knees and the other behind her back, lifting her easily, and carries her down the hall to his bedroom.

His sheets are softer than she had expected, as if he had been hoping for company; she wonders if this is the first time he has prepared a bed for them, how many movie nights he has slept alone on these soft sheets after the door snicked shut behind her without so much as a kiss. The thought strikes a surprisingly sad chord in her heart.

The bed dips as he settles in beside her, and she curls into his open arms with a happy sigh. “A girl could get used to this,” she murmurs, pressing a kiss to his bare chest.

“I sure hope she does,” he answers.

She drapes one of her legs over his and - “Oh.” She lifts the sheet and sees he somehow still has his jeans on, and is still sporting a rather impressive tent. “You appear to be overdressed,” she teases.

“Don’t worry about me, Scully. This has already been so much more than I -”

She puts a finger over his lips and shoots him one of her more serious looks. “Mulder. Shut up.”

And, for perhaps the first time in his life, he does.

Scully’s legs are still a little weak as she climbs on top of him, rubbing herself shamelessly over the bulge in his pants. She’s wet again already and hungry for him in a way she hasn’t felt in years. Her hair falls around them in an amber curtain as she leans down to kiss him, long and slow and deep. He’s grinning like an idiot by the time she pulls away, and she decides that looking down on Mulder may be her new favorite place to be. 

She grinds down harder with her hips, the seam of his jeans pressing right where she wants it the most. He moans, trying not to buck beneath her and throw off her rhythm. He has to clench his fists in the sheets. She’s making a wet spot on his pants; he’ll have to wash them - and the sheets, and the couch - in the morning, but he couldn’t care less about any of that because Scully’s breasts are bouncing just in front of his face and she is writhing on top of him like an animal in heat. He reaches for her hips, trying to get just a little more pressure, but she grabs his wrists and holds them down.

“Nuh-uh,” she huffs. “You made me beg. Now it’s your turn.” She waits until he stops trying to lift his hands, then rakes her nails down his chest, leaving little streaks of pink in their wake.

“Fuck, Scully,” he moans, throwing his head back and thrusting up with his hips, which only makes her lift herself away. “I don’t know how much of this I can take.”

She only casts him a wicked grin before lowering her mouth to his, plunging her tongue deep inside and moaning. He is the first to break away, gasping for breath, and she waits for his eyes to find hers before she leaves a trail of hot, wet kisses down the length of his torso. He is not as sensitive as she had been, though he does jump when she runs her tongue across the firm plains of his stomach. She finds the fine trail of dark hair beneath his navel and nips and sucks her way down it until it ends at the waist of his pants.

He expects her to undo the fly and pull them off, but instead she rubs her cheek against the stiff bulge of his cock, as if to mark it with her scent. She catches his eye again, to make sure he is watching, and then runs her tongue slowly over the full length of it. She can taste herself on the fabric and is surprised at how erotic it is.

“God, Scully. Please.”

“Mmm,” she hums against him and thumbs open the button on his fly. “Begging. I see the appeal.” She slides one hand under the waistband and scratches through the coarse hair just above his cock.

“I would get on my knees but I think something might break off.”

“Then allow me.”

She kneels between his legs, pulling down his zipper and shimmying his soft jeans down the length of his legs. She has a moment to wonder at the fact that he doesn’t appear to be wearing any boxers - does he go commando in general these days, or, like the sheets, was he hoping for something to happen tonight? - and then her eyes land on his cock and she forgets how to think.

She’s seen him naked before, of course, but always under the guise of a medical professional. Glimpsing his body while treating injury or disease is one thing. Never has she seen him hard, and now faced with the full monty - or rather, the full Mulder - she is only slightly more impressed than intimidated. She takes him in her hand, pumping up and down slowly, and a small bead of precum leaks from the purple tip. Her heart jumps, her mouth begins to water, and she licks her lips as she realizes it’s all for her.

“Oh Christ, don’t do that,” he moans, eyes glued to her mouth. “I’m trying to be cool here.” So of course she stares into his eyes, parts her lips, and then very slowly runs her tongue in a full circle around them.

He’s about to say something else but it cuts off with a gurgle when she takes him into her mouth. He’s too big to take in too deeply just yet, but she licks the tip of him like an ice cream cone, her tongue moving in lazy circles as she pumps him languidly with one hand. The other comes up beneath to cup the soft weight of his balls. He is salty and tangy and strangely sweet, and she moans as the taste of him floods her senses. She is so aroused it’s almost painful, and she wishes she had a third hand so she could touch herself as she sucks him. She takes him deeper, surprised at how much she enjoys this - the twitching of his thighs as he tries not to thrust, the way he is moaning her name between strings of curse words, the startling way his cock bumps against the back of her throat.

She’s just beginning to wonder if she can relax her throat enough to swallow him further down when Mulder’s hands land suddenly in her hair, pulling her mouth away from him with a wet and undignified slurping sound. “Hey,” she protests, donning an exaggerated and teasing pout. Her mouth and chin glisten with a mix of saliva and precum. “I was enjoying that.”

He sits up and slides his fingers between her legs. “I can tell,” he says, circling her clit and making her gasp. “And don’t get me wrong, I was too. But…”

He pulls her up the length of his body until she is nestled in his lap, her thighs braced on either side of his and his cock only inches from the wet heat of her cunt. “Please, Scully.”

“More begging?,” she purrs as she takes him in her fist again. She shifts so she can rub the tip of him between her wet and swollen folds until he moans. She positions him right against her entrance, his tip just barely inside. “Is this what you want?” she pants. For all the playfulness in her voice, she is trembling with want, and shudders as she feels herself dripping around him.

“Yes,” he hisses into her ear, crushing her tight against him and pressing his hips up. He slips another inch inside her. “Fuck me, Scully, please.” Another small thrust, another inch of her clenching around him.

Enough teasing, she decides. Enough begging. Enough waiting.

She doesn’t trust her voice not to break, so she only nods and kisses him as if she could devour him whole.

She slides down onto him slowly, adjusting to the width of him until he is buried to the hilt. They are both shaking now, their panting breaths a humid cloud between them. A long moment passes before she can move, before her body can handle the way he stretches and fills her. She is slow and deliberate, rising until he nearly slips from her body, then easing down to grind her clit against his pelvis. Waves of pleasure wash through her with each stroke, and she drops her head to his shoulder, overwhelmed.

He reaches down to cup her ass, spreading her wide and taking some control over her motion. They moan in unison as he begins to thrust in counterpoint to the slow roll of her hips.

It doesn’t take long before Scully begins to feel the flame of another orgasm kindle deep in her belly. The moan that comes from her throat belongs to another woman, one who is wild and wanton and apparently capable of coming more than once in a night; and oh how she wants to be that woman.

“Mulder,” she pants, “I need - I’m -” Another moan, and the coil inside her tightens further, closing off her ability to speak.

He understands, he always understands, licking his thumb and then sliding it between their sweating bodies to press hard against her clit. “Fuck, yes, Scully,” he says as she grinds down on his hand. “I want to feel you come.”

His mouth seeks out that same damn spot on her neck that started this whole thing, sucking and nibbling with the same rhythm of his thumb circling her clit. “Come for me, Scully,” he growls into her skin, and then bites down hard enough to bruise.

She shatters around him, bucking her hips wildly against him and muffling her cries of “Mulder, oh God, Mulder,” into his shoulder until she is hoarse. He tumbles over the edge right behind her, hot and pulsing, and the feel of his cock twitching as he fills her with his cum is nearly enough to set her off again.

They stay entwined for a long time, shudders passing back and forth between them, until their sweat cools and their mingled fluids begin to leak onto his thighs. 

Mulder leans back first, brushing damp hair from her face so he can look into her eyes. “Hey.”

Her answering smile is almost bashful, but there’s not an ounce of regret in it. “Hey.”

“So. Wine. Fancy underwear. That sweater.”

“No boxers,” she counters. “Clean, soft sheets?”

She quirks an eyebrow, he tilts his chin and smiles.

And just like that they are themselves, again, still, always, but now with a new layer of togetherness to explore. He moistens a washcloth in the bathroom sink and tenderly cleans them both, and they curl up on the soft - if rumpled and damp - sheets together.

They do not share “I love you”s. Not tonight. Not yet. But they both feel it in the brush of the other’s fingers, taste it in the tenderness of the last kiss they share before falling asleep together.

And that is enough.

[peachdies]

Moon Dance

The end of a prompt that I haven’t actually written the intro for. Might get around to it, but I still have two finals to study for.

Y/N is the Lunar Hashira. She and Sanemi were partnered for a mission and took out a lower-moon, but Y/N aggravated an earlier shoulder injury. They went to a hot spring and things got steamy in more ways than one.

Tengen is terrified of Y/N.

I hope to write part one soon!

🟰🟰🟰🟰🟰🟰🟰🟰🟰🟰🟰🟰🟰🟰🟰

The Wind and Lunar Pillars kept a respectful distance between them as they crossed the front threshold into the Master’s garden. The other Pillars had already gathered, eagerly chatting with one another and sharing their latest kills and updates about their trainees. The Love Pillar, Mitsuri, caught Y/N’s eye over the top of Shinobu’s head and lifted her arm to frantically waive at her arriving friend. Before Y/N could return the greeting, she saw Mitsuri’s eyes widen, and mouth from a small “o,” her arm still suspended mid-air.

Curious to know what had stunned the normally-chatty Love Hashira into silence, Shinobu too, turned towards the arriving duo, eyes widening as she took in the scene.

One by one, the other Hashira fell silent as both Y/N and Shinuzagawa approached and slowed to a stop. Y/N’s stomach fluttered uncomfortably as she looked from Pillar to Pillar. Rengoku’s eyebrows had nearly disappeared into his hairline; Tengen, who always had a snarky comment ready, stared dumbly at them, jaw slack and mouth wide open. Even Tomioka, who Y/N had never once seen emote, stared wide-eyed, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

The Lunar Pillar felt her heart begin to thump erratically in her chest. We were just on assignment together, why would it be strange to arrive together as well? She panicked, eyes pleading with someone, anyone to break the tension threatening to suffocate her.

“The FUCK are you gawking at, Tomioka?” Sanemi snarled from her right, advancing forward past Y/N as he sought to pick a fight with the Water Hashira. Tomioka said nothing, just merely raised an eyebrow, lips thinning.

That’s when she saw it.

Y/N’s haori had not been originally made for her. Rather, the exquisite, silver cloth with the royal blue embroidering had been made for her brother, in order to showcase both the family wealth and the connection to the greater Lunar breathing clan. After her family’s demise, Y/N had found it tucked into a chest, never worn. She could not find it in her heart to leave it behind as she prepared to leave for her life with the Corps.

Her brother. At the time of his death, he had been around Sanemi’s height.

Had the haori been made to fit her, rather than her brother, perhaps Sanemi would have realized something was off as they hastily dressed in the early hours of the morning, when the sun had not yet begun to creep over the mountains. He would have noticed that the haori felt tight, short, too much so to be his own.

And had the haori been made for her, Y/N would have known that the overlarge, roomy haori she grabbed this morning was not hers, but Sanemi’s.

“Oh my!” Came Shinobu’s tinkling laugh.

“Quite the flashy fashion statement,” Tengen simpered, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively at Sanemi. Mitsuri giggled, covering her mouth and the faint dusting of pink that was spreading across her cheeks.

Sanemi whipped back around to Y/N, whose face was as red as the tomato plants growing in the corner of the garden. His eyes fell to her shoulders, and his eyes widened in horror as he gripped the silvery fabric draped around him in realization.

“The Master of the Mansion will be arriving soon.” Ubayshiki’s children announced, as the Hashira rushed to form a line and bow. Sanemi, as a result of his attempt to take on Tomioka, was forced to kneel down beside the dour man, while you took a spot two heads down next to Shinobu and Mitsuri.

Tomioka’s nostrils widened softly, as he sniffed the air. “New soap, Shinazugawa?”

Evidently, Sanemi was the only one among them who had not realized that the jasmine—and-honeysuckle scent wasn’t the result of some exotic bush in the Master’s garden.

Whatever doubt that may have existed as to what had transpired between Y/N and Sanemi evaporated. They may have been able to explain wearing each other’s haoris as nothing more than an innocent mix up, but there was no explanation for Sanemi smelling like Y/N that didn’t point to something…intimate.

Both Rengoku’s and Tengen’s shoulders shook in silent laughter, as Mitsuri’s blush deepened. Shinobu side-eyed the flushed Lunar Pillar. Y/N’s nails broke the skin of her palms as she clenched her fists in mortification, jaw tight.

Casting a side glance down at the Wind Pillar, Y/N saw all of the familiar tells that Sanemi was about to tackle Tomioka and make him the target of his rage. A vein ticked in his forehead while the thick muscles of his forearms rippled, a snarl ripping from the back of his throat.

He would have, had the Master not stepped out onto the veranda, smiling serenely in the morning light.

“My dear children. I am so grateful to have you all gathered here again.” Master Ubayashiki intoned, as the Hashira bowed their heads in reverence.

“Master, you honor us. I hope you are in good health.” Iguro’s reedy voice rose above them, as Mitsuri whimpered having again missed the opportunity to greet their Master.

“Thank you, Obanai. I am happy to report that yet another lower moon has been disposed of.” The Master said, glowing with pride for his children. “I am happy to hear of your successful mission, Sanemi. Y/N.”

The other Hashira made a concerted, but failed effort to suppress their smirks, again shaking with quiet laughter. Successful, indeed. Sanemi chanced a sly glance over to Y/N, having failed to meet your eye once your affair had been made public.

Y/N felt the weight of his stare as it bore into her side, the heat creeping back up her collar once more. Though she didn’t return his glance, she closed her eyes for a heartbeat, two, before slowly opening them again to fix her stare on the rocks and dirt beneath her.

It’s okay, She said, silently. I’m okay.

Sanemi felt his shoulders ease with a tension he had not realized he carried , returning his attention to the Master before him.

The Master asked for a debrief of the mission, and both Sanemi and Y/N alternated in replying, their voices even and resolute. Y/N was determined to maintain an aura of cool indifference, as though they had merely carried out their mission with the utmost professionalism. Sanemi followed her lead.

Professional. Professional. Be professional. Y/N chanted to herself. Don’t think about anything else.

Not about how Sanemi’s lips felt ghosting up the side of her neck. How hard his chest pressed into her back as he scooped handfuls of hot spring water and let it dribble sensually down her sore shoulder, down her breasts.

Not about how he looked, standing in the shallow bank of the spring, droplets of water running down his lower abdominal muscles and to the alluring “v” of his hips.

Not about how his hands dug into her thigh, her hip, his teeth sinking into the juncture between her neck and shoulder, her breasts. Or the sound of his pants and throaty growls, as he rocked into her while she sobbed his name, over and over.

Not about how pretty she felt when he unleashed himself inside her, wanton and sated.

Sanemi. Sanemi. Sanemi.

Y/N clenched her fists again, resisting the urge to shake her head and clear the memories of the previous night from her mind.

“Wonderful,” Master Ubayshiki marveled at the pair’s report. “And i trust neither of you sustained any serious injuries?”

Sanemi hesitated. “Y/N’s-,”

“My shoulder.” Y/N finished quickly. “It was knocked from its socket. I attempted to reset it, but it was still healing from an earlier injury.”

“I am happy to examine Y/N once we are adjourned, Master.” Shinobu offered, nodding at her friend.

“Excellent,” Master Ubayashiki smiled, “Y/N, please return to the Butterfly Mansion with Shinobu once we are through. I do not wish for you to be in any pain.”

“Yes, Master. I thank you for your concern.” Y/N bowed.

“Or to be too sore.” Tengen muttered to Rengoku, though not quiet enough.

Sanemi gnashed his teeth together, itching for a fight. He glanced once more to where you knelt, wanting to see if she had heard Tengen’s comment.

Y/N’s face remained impressively impassive, save for one small twitch of her eye. She heard.

Shifting his eyes back to the ground before him, Sanemi felt the corners of his mouth turn up into a smirk. Beside him, the unflappable Tengen, audibly gulped.

Good. The bastard had noticed her tell, too. Sanemi would happily sit back and enjoy the show, should she decide to rip Tengen a new asshole.

The rest of the meeting proceeded without much fuss. Master Ubayashiki reported on the new crop of slayers who had passed Final Selection — a whopping fifteen new mizonoto. Out of the nearly fifty who had tried out.

The sun was high overhead by the time the Master had dismissed them. Y/N rose alongside Kocho, who began prodding at Y/N’s shoulder, asking her when the first injury happened, and how she had re-set it after the fight with Koyechii. Y/N winced as the Insect Pillar tested the joint’s mobility, tutting that it was likely fractured.

Sanemi watched, subdued, as the pair of women Hashira walked towards him, making their way to the Butterfly Mansion. Before Y/N could pass him, she drew up short beside Tengen, eyes fixed on him, unblinking.

Tengen went rigid and bowed. “Apologies, Y/N, for making such an unflashy comment. I commend you for your victory.”

The other Hashira looked towards Y/N, eager to see her response. Y/N paused for a moment, before giving Tengen the sweetest, most tooth-rotting smile that Sanemi had ever seen.

Poison, Sanemi mused.

“Don’t you fret, Tengen,” Y/N cooed, honey dripping from her lips, “everyone knows you have a tendency to be a bit quick. Don’t feel too bad, it happens to everyone!”

Tengen sputtered as Y/N sauntered by, moving to rejoin Shinobu at the exit, and eyeing Sanemi as he began to make his way to his own estate, in the opposite direction.

Y/N felt her stomach clench as he neared. He seemed to be prepared to breeze by her without a word, but just as their shoulders passed, Y/N felt the familiar, rough skin of Sanemi’s fingers brush against hers.

“I’ll come find you. Later.” He murmured, soft enough that only she could hear. Y/N’s chin lightly dipped in a nod imperceptible to everyone else but him.

Shinobu watched Y/N as she approached her at the gate. As the two made off down the path towards the Butterfly Mansion, she began listing off the treatments Y/N would need to follow in order to ensure her shoulder healed properly.

She did not comment on the faint smile that tugged at the corner of her friend’s lips, nor on the pinkish glow of her cheeks. Y/N would divulge the details, when she was ready.

Despite the dull ache in her arm, Y/N felt oddly light; buoyant. Not even the news that the Insect Pillar would have to re-dislodge her shoulder joint to properly re-set it, dulled the slight pep in her gait.

Later.

[deadmomjokes]

Do you have any adventures of bean to share before you sign off for a bit? good luck with the move!

I wish I had more specific ones, but life is all blurring together at this point so I must settle for Tidbits: Moving Edition

She loves to pack stuff. I have no idea where it's coming from, but holy cow this kid. She's going to be the only reason we're completely packed and ready to go on time. Every morning, she hops in my bed and goes "Can we pack another box?" And any time we're not actively doing something, "Should we pack more boxes?" Her dad whispered to me earlier, understandably dumbfounded, "What is with the packing thing? Why is she so into this?" And she somehow heard it from the next room and merrily hopped in holding the roll of packing tape and said "I dunno, I just really like packing things." So... yeah. She's keeping us on task.

She has Plans for the drive. -First, we need to eat at Subway (she was very excited to learn she can, in fact, have Subway in moderation). -Second, we need to stay at one of the number hotels-- those being National 9, Super 8, and Motel 6. (She is bummed there's no 7 hotel.) -Third, if we successfully get a number hotel for one night, we also need to do a Red Roof Inn some other night. -Fourth, she wants to go inside a gas station and look at the maps. (She means the visitors guides and brochures that truck stops have when they're near-ish to state lines and/or tourist destinations.) -Finally, she wants to borrow my phone to take pictures. Unbeknownst to her, we are getting an old digital camera tuned up and outfitted with a child-proof case so she can have her own camera, because when she starts taking pictures it's an hours-long affair, and I kinda need my phone for GPS purposes. We're presenting her with said camera next weekend when we get the trailer, so hopefully she'll stay occupied while we do the part of packing she can't actually help with. But yeah, she knows how to set realistic, attainable goals, and I honestly think we can make these things happen for her.

She's been obsessively watching that Bluey special every day, and it Concerns me. See, she's generally quite media literate, and knows how to separate fiction from reality, and we had our big group cry about leaving our friends the first time we watched it. But. I am deeply worried that she's under the impression that we'll get all packed and ready to go and then do what Bluey's family did and decide to stay. I desperately hope not, but hoo boy, if that is the case, that's gonna be one heck of a 4-day drive. We've tried bringing it up and talking about it, but we still can't tell what's going on in that little noggin.

She is really, really sad about leaving her friends. I know that's not fun to hear, but honestly, I'm really impressed and proud of the way she's been handling it. She's come up with some great coping mechanisms all on her own: asking if we can get everyone's parents' Facebooks so we can do video calls, asking if we can do a party before she leaves so she can play with her school friends again (both yes, of course), and the one that truly floored me-- she asked if we can find "a new therapy place" when we get to where we're going. My four year old asked if she can go back to therapy, y'all. She's been 'graduated' since before Christmas, but she remembered that it helped when she was feeling anxious all the time and wants to do that again after we move. I just... Holy moly! I am so, SO proud of her for how she's so in tune with herself and her needs.

Her requests for our next housing situation have been few, but very specific. It has to let her get a pet, either a rabbit (maybe two so they can be friends), or a ball python, or both. It needs stairs so she can bumslide down them. It needs a pantry with a shelf she can reach for her snacks. And she'd really prefer if it had hard floors so we can get a fuzzy rug. We don't have it on lock yet (fingers crossed!), but the place that looks most likely meets all of these criteria.

That's all I've got for right now, because I need to go pre-plan what tomorrow morning's packing adventure is going to be so I don't have to think about it two minutes after opening my eyes.

[demoneyecandy]

When the Rain Washes You Clean, You'll Know - Pt 1

I’m joining the hallowed fanfic tradition of using song lyrics for titles. Cross-posted to my AO3

Work: When the Rain Washes You Clean, You'll Know WC: 4.3k Relationship: Satan x Reader, Satan x MC AFAB reader, she/her pronouns and some gendered terms for reader Warning: Explicit, Minor Hurt/Comfort

Description:  M/C is having some family issues. Who could understand better than Satan? And if he can take advantage of the opportunity to be with the person he's been pining for, and ruin his brother's day? Even better.

All of this had started when Satan had found her sulking in the library, looking out the window at the rain with a pillow clutched to her chest. She’d made the mistake of not answering with more than a shrug when he’d asked what was wrong – she couldn’t help it, his eyes were just so earnest and he seemed so concerned, lying felt wrong but she wasn’t in the mood to talk about it. Not quite sure why she drew the line at lying to a literal demon, but there it was. She’d thought maybe she’d averted one of the brothers’ standard over the top reactions when Satan left the library, only for him to return shortly with her rain jacket, boots, purse, and his own cartoon cat-covered umbrella. She recognized it as the one she had given him for his last birthday and her heart did skip a little, realizing that he actually used it.

“Satan, this really isn’t necessary” the human had tried to reassure him when he knelt down at her feet to trade her slippers for rain boots.

“Well, I say that it is” he replied in a flat tone, leaving no room for argument.

M/C sighed, resigning herself to whatever he had planned for their day. Grabbing her DDD, she sent off a text to Lucifer letting him know that Satan was taking her out. The last time she had let Satan whisk her away for an impromptu day trip he’d also pocketed her phone to ‘live in the moment’, but when she came back home to the other brothers forming a search party (complete with a full-on dossier including her last known whereabouts), she realized from his smug little grin that he was just messing with Lucifer. He’d had his ‘M/C Privileges’ revoked for two weeks, causing a meltdown of epic proportions.

After he’d guided her arms through the raincoat she rose to her feet and took her purse from the demon. He sent a sly grin her way, flipping the hood over her head playfully. Making an annoyed noise, she flipped it back to see Satan’s elbow out and ready for her to loop her own arm through. With that, she let her demon lead her out through the House of Lamentation and into a stormy Devildom afternoon.

Thirty minutes later they were drying off in a cat café that M/C was 80% certain had been founded for the sole purpose of getting in the fourth-born’s good graces. It totally worked. She cupped her hot chocolate between her sweater-covered hands and took joy in the presence of a little tortoiseshell cat curled up on her lap. The human knew better than to think Satan was going to let what he saw earlier go, but he knew better than to force her… yet. He seemed happy enough with that approach, holding his mug of tea in one hand and using the other to lavish affection on a lucky gray kitten that had hopped up onto the table. She laughed internally at the sight, knowing she was going to have to make sure that cat didn’t get smuggled home in her purse. They each basked in the experience of each other’s company, mostly in silence, until the café closed a few hours later.

It was on their walk home (after M/C caught Satan trying to smuggle no less than three kittens in his jacket) that the demon made his move.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

She sighed. “Not really, but I don’t think you’re going to drop it”.

He turned to her and beamed, “Nope, not at all”.

“Fine. You know I don’t really have the best relationship with my Dad. He forgot my birthday again and still hasn’t said anything”.

Satan stopped in his tracks. “Wasn’t your birthday two weeks ago? Wait- again?”

“Yep, third time in a row” she kept walking, wanting to get out of the rain (and away from this conversation) sooner than later. Satan caught up with no difficulty.

“I thought my father was a dick, but that’s just plain rude”.

“Don’t you just prefer to call Lucifer your brother?”

“He’s my brother or my father depending on which is funnier at the time” he smirked.

She couldn’t help but burst out laughing. “Fair enough”.

They walked in silence for another few minutes, side by side, their hands occasionally touching.

“So” Satan began, “want me to have a chat with him?”

She laid a hand on his shoulder and spun him to face her. The human looked up into his cat-like eyes, somehow summoning some sense of authority into her voice despite the full foot he had on her height-wise. “Satan, I cannot be more clear. You do not have my permission to torture my Dad. He’s a shit dad, but not bad enough to warrant intervention by demons, especially you”.

Satan glanced down at you proudly. “That just sounds like you’re acknowledging that I’m the best at what I do”.

She gave him an unimpressed look, not letting him derail her train of thought with his stupid, cute face. He pouted, folding his arms and making a noise. “Fine, but only because you’re cute when you’re serious”.

At his teasing M/C’s face turned bright red and she sped off towards their home, as though putting space between them physically would do anything to prevent him from realizing how flustered she was. She heard his laugh behind her and her heart beat even faster at the sound. She was so busy trying to somehow fast-walk away from her own feelings that she didn’t notice the crack in the pavement up ahead. The same crack that she successfully avoided daily on their walks to and from school, every weekday for who knows how long, but that she wasn’t able to successfully avoid this time. One second M/C was scooting through the rain and away from the demon that occupied her daydreams, the next she was face-first on the ground and that demon was by her side, checking her over for any injuries.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his face suddenly serious.

She couldn’t do anything but laugh at her own mistake, surprising Satan. His confusion morphed into a fond smile as he realized she really was okay, and he joined in. The human shrieked and laughed even harder as she felt herself be lifted up into his arms, grabbing onto his shoulders.

“Hold this?” Satan handed her the cat umbrella and shifted to get a more solid grip on his human. He quickly worked up to a jog to get them both home quickly, the rain seemingly not affecting his speed or agility at all.

Despite a brief stop in the front hall to ditch their rain gear the two of them somehow made it up to her room without being stopped by any of the other brothers. M/C was thankful, not sure she would’ve survived the embarrassment. Satan bumped the door shut with his hip and placed her on the ground. Before she could thank him for the day out and send him on his way so she could lick her wounds (literal and metaphorical) in private, he started digging in her closet for her towels.

“Go warm up in the shower, I’ll be back soon with a first aid kit to make sure nothing gets infected. Rainwater can be full of bacteria and pollution”. Once again, no room for argument. She took the towel he’d pulled out for her from his arms and headed into her bathroom, locking the door behind her.

M/C took what some may call a gratuitously long shower, but she’d had a long day - let her enjoy herself. The showers in the House of Lamentation were second only to the showers in the Demon Lord’s Castle – the water pressure and temperature was unreal. She didn’t know how she was going to adjust back to living in shitty apartments in the Human Realm, but that was a problem for future M/C. Hopefully very far in the future. Fully refreshed, she had almost forgotten that Satan hadn’t left for the night. If she wasn’t so used to strange demons coming into her room at all hours she might have been more startled to see Satan sitting on her bed with a first aid kit, waiting for her. What did startle her however was the fact that she could see Satan’s hair was unkempt and damp, and that he didn’t appear to be wearing more than a white towel wrapped around his hips. She dropped her dirty clothes into the laundry hamper, except for her bra which she hung to dry and planned to wash separately. It was one of her nice ones, she wasn’t going to let their washing machine eat up the lace.

“I was wondering when you’d be out. Did you have a nice shower?” M/C didn’t trust her voice to respond, so she just nodded when he turned to face her. He patted the bed next to him and smiled expectantly. She made her way over and sat down, clutching her towel closer to her chest. He gestured to her arm, and she swapped the hand gripping her towel so she could give him the arm closer to him to examine. Painstakingly, Satan examined both of her arms to disinfect and bandage the scrapes from her fall. He moved to the floor between her legs, kneeling before her. She tried to close her legs, but he put his hands between her knees to prevent them from shutting.

“Can I make sure there’s no injuries on your legs?” he asked in a calm tone and made eye contact with the human, almost like he was trying to calm an animal that seemed ready to bolt. She paused for a moment – she knew he would stop if she told him to. But… should she ask him to stop? To give her some space, leaving out the part about how him being between her legs gave her unholy thoughts? Satan was arguably the most trustworthy demon she knew. Not to mention her not-so-little crush on him. Honestly, that was what gave her pause. What if she made it weird? What if he just saw her as a friend? Well, she was already in the Devildom. If she died of embarrassment she wouldn’t have to go far. So, she took a deep breath, and as she exhaled she spread her legs to give Satan room to work. He thanked her under his breath and went to work, focusing on the scrapes on her knees. When he cleaned the knee that took the brunt of the fall she inhaled sharply at the sting of the disinfectant, only for one of his hands to find hers for comfort. The human looked down and saw the care in the way he touched her. It was almost funny for the personification of wrath to be so concerned with inflicting the slightest bit of pain on her and it only softened her heart further.

When Satan looked up, he saw the blush on his human’s cheeks and the affection in her eyes and decided to take a chance. He smiled and got up to throw away the trash and place the first aid kit in the bathroom for her to have supplies to change her own bandages later if necessary. He came back to the bed and sat beside her, taking both of her hands in his.

“I need you to know why I’m so upset on your behalf”. He spoke tenderly. It brought him no shortage of amusement that he could see his human’s eyes tracing a stray water droplet as it trailed down his neck, over his collarbone, down his chest and past his towel. Her eyes lingered on the pronounced V of his hips and he could swear he saw her lick her lips subconsciously, as though she wanted to lick his skin dry. As he began to speak, her eyes jumped up to meet his entrancing green eyes.

“You are so wonderful. You’re kind, smart, and thoughtful. I’m always laughing when I’m with you. I can’t imagine being in your life and taking you for granted. I don’t want you to think that you’re not absolutely everything. You’re our everything here. You’re my everything”. She felt her mouth gape, not having any clue where this was coming from. Did she crack her head open when she fell? Was this a coma dream? She was pretty sure those were a thing, but she wasn’t a doctor. Before she could spiral any further, she felt his hand come up and gently cup her jaw.

“M/C, will you let me worship you tonight?”

Before she could spend too much time thinking about the right way to respond to something so romantic, she heard an almost too enthusiastic “Fuck yes” leave her mouth. And before she could panic about that, she felt his lips on hers. Gently at first, to test the waters. He moved his lips against hers reverently, like she was a sacred place and he was a pilgrim at the end of a long journey. Her hands came to lay around his shoulders and Satan’s free hand laid on her thigh, gripping it lightly. The more time went on the more they began to melt into each other. At the first breathy moan that left M/C between kisses, it was like a switch went off in Satan. He redoubled his efforts, pressing against her with more insistency and his hand moving from its grip on her thigh to her waist, gripping even tighter through the layer of her towel. Their gasps filled the air alongside the sound of their lips meeting.

“So fucking hot” he moaned, tightening his grip to the point it almost hurt.

“Please, Satan. I need more” she begged. Not wasting any time, he twisted them around until her back hit the bed and he straddled her waist. Her kiss-bitten lips and lust-filled eyes sent chills up his spine. Every naughty fantasy he’d ever had of the two of them came to the forefront of his mind and he tried his best to sift through them all, trying to choose the best one to show her the depths of his passion. Before he could decide, he felt the towel at his waist begin to slip. He shifted his weight to his knees to catch it, but he felt a human-sized hand grab at his wrist.

“Please?” her voice was softer than it had been, showing some hesitancy, like she wasn’t sure how far she could push this.

“Anything for you, sweetheart. My heart and my body are yours”. M/C could practically feel her own face heat up at the term of endearment. It felt like she was in a romance novel the way he expressed his devotion so whole-heartedly. Her hand stayed on his wrist as the other came up to untuck the towel from his waist.

“Holy fuck Satan, how were you hiding this in your pants?”, she almost sounded indignant. The demon burst out laughing, glad he wouldn’t have to second guess if she liked the way he looked underneath his clothes. He threw the towel into the laundry hamper near the bed, eager to get it out of the way now that he’d been given the go-ahead. He wasn’t scarily long – it seemed proportional to his height, but he was much thicker than any of the humans she’d been with. She almost wanted to ask if this was normal for demons or if he was particularly well-endowed, but she didn’t want to risk him thinking she was asking because she wanted another demon, so she decided to save that question for her and Asmo’s next self-care night. Preferably after he’d had enough demonus that he was unlikely to remember.

Breaking free from her thoughts, she took him in her hand. Half exploring and half trying to stroke him to full hardness, she tried to get a feel for how he liked to be touched. The breathy moan she earned through a hard grip and slow strokes hinted she was at least going in the right direction.

Through his growing haze Satan asked, “Can I see you too?”

M/C nodded, using the hand that had been wrapped around his wrist to untuck her own towel and toss it carelessly to the floor, pulling him back to her to kiss him hard. Wanting to see her but making use of the patience honed through the millennia of his existence, he let her take control of the kiss and instead tried to focus on the feel of her tongue in his mouth and her hand on his cock. If he had ever been in the Celestial Realm as his own being, he would imagine that this was what it felt like. To be enveloped in the love of his human as they tried to learn each other’s bodies, the sound of the storm still audible against the window panes. He was often envious of his brothers, but not this time. They’d experience this particular heaven over his dead body. Satan felt his possessive streak flaring up and he knew he would do whatever it took to keep his human in his arms until the end of his days. He was brought out of his head once again once the human shifted their focus to teasing the head of his cock. Unable to hold back the moans, he pulled back from the kiss only to shift to leaving marks down his lover’s neck. Sharp nips and sucks drew breathy moans from her, and satisfied sighs when he gently soothed the sting with his tongue.

He spent extra time on her collarbones, obsessed with how easily the red marks bloomed for him just on the edge of where they’d be visible in her usual attire. In his head he could see them at breakfast the next morning. M/C would be wearing her usual weekend attire. Of course, she’d cover her neck with makeup or maybe a scarf, but maybe she’d assume her collarbones would be covered by her shirt? What if she were to move just-so and the hem of her neckline shifted, showing off the marks he so carefully left for her to appreciate? Of course Asmodeus would notice, he never missed an opportunity to stare at her tits. No way he wouldn’t make a big deal about it, drawing the attention of the others. He could practically taste how lovely it would feel to feed on his brothers’ wrath. It also had the added bonus of making sure the others knew she was his – always had been and always will be.

Content with his little daydream, he continued downward to his human’s chest. Her fingers grasped at his hair to ground herself as he teased her nipple to hardness with his tongue, stimulating the other with gentle circles using his thumb. Cupping them in his hands, he took the opportunity to lean back and appreciate M/C. His eyes scanned her nude body for the first time, appreciating every curve and dimple, committing every scar and freckle and mole to memory. From her flushed skin to her messed up hair, she looked absolutely wrecked. He moved his hand to tease the marks he left all over her neck and chest, tracing each one.

“Satan, please, don’t make me beg. I want you inside of me.” she was surprised how pathetic she sounded to herself and possibly more surprised at how Satan’s eyes dilated and his smile grew at the sound, like he was a fox that had spotted a hare.

“But you sound positively sinful when you beg, and you know how us demons love to bask in sin” he replied.

Rolling her eyes, she grabbed one of his hands to drag it down her body to her core. Not willing to pass up an opportunity to be a little shit, kept moving downward until he landed at the underside of her knee.

“Seriously?”

“Shush, I’m a romantic, let me enjoy our first time together. I said I wanted to worship you, didn’t I?”

“Fine. You’re lucky you’re cute”. M/C huffed.

“Thank you for indulging me, your graciousness knows no bounds”. Before she could bite back another response, Satan parted her legs and descended on her inner thighs. Kissing and biting, he cut off her smartass reply and it was replaced by the loudest moan he’d gotten all night. The way he held her legs in place was as delicate as when he had been checking her over for wounds, providing a lovely contrast to way he attacked the soft flesh of her thighs.

“Sensitive?”

“I will end you if you don’t touch me where I want you right now, you ridiculous little furry”. This was the kind of shit that made him fall head over heels in love with her. She wasn’t afraid of him, she saw him as more than his sin. She saw all of them as more than their sins, but right now he was only concerned with the two of them. He didn’t think his smile could grow any wider without becoming distinctly inhuman, and while he was pretty sure she’d be into that, today wasn’t the day to drop that on her. Instead, he hooked her legs over his shoulders and dove between her legs with an enthusiasm he hadn’t felt for sex in centuries, if ever.

Her thighs locked around his head and her hands threaded through his silky blonde hair, throwing her head back and screaming his name. The sound was muffled by her legs covering his ears, but she was loud enough that he heard it loud and clear. It motivated him to show her just how agile his tongue was, to ruin her for human partners and other demons alike. He focused his mouth on her clit, rubbing her hips with his thumbs to soothe her as he overwhelmed the human’s senses. Satan’s tongue felt unbelievably long on her sex, somehow seeming to simultaneously cover her entirely and focus in on the spots that made her buck her hips involuntarily and grind down onto his face. She had never felt so overstimulated before and couldn’t help but continue to moan as he brought her closer and closer to climax. She was helpless to do anything but vocalize her pleasure as he ate her through her orgasm and beyond, her body tensing and twitching as he lapped up her release. When her noises of pleasure turned to noises of discomfort, Satan managed to make his way out from between her legs, stroking the outside of her thigh and using a gentle voice to guide her back into her body.

“Holy fuck. Where did you learn to do that?” she panted as she tried to catch her breath. She caught his eye, appreciating how his face was shiny with her slick. She felt her arousal returning against all odds as he grinned wickedly and licked it all off of his face with a tongue that looked different from usual - too long for his mouth, but lined up more with what she felt on her sex.

“I’m Satan, remember? What kind of great corrupter of mankind would I be if I couldn’t eat pussy?” He flopped down next to her as they laughed, basking in the afterglow.

“I’m still pretty sensitive, but I can touch you in the meantime if you’d like?”

“No, let’s just stay like this for a bit. I want to cum for the first time inside of you, if you’ll allow me”.

Her eyes grew large and she felt herself almost salivating. “Yep, yep, sounds great, good, let’s do that”.

Her demon laughed again, loving how awkward and enthusiastic she was even after it seemed like he’d given her an out-of-body experience.

“Oh, wait, can you let Lucifer know that we’re back? I don’t want you getting in trouble for ‘stealing’ me again”. As M/C curled up on her side and drew the covers up over her, Satan paused. His eye caught the lacy black bra hung on the doorknob of her closet.

“Of course, love”. He was the co-chair of the Anti-Lucifer League. He couldn’t pass up this opportunity. So, before he curled up into her side to be her big spoon, he decided to snap a picture of the bra hanging there. He opened up his DDD, holding it in one hand and stroking her arm gently with the other. It conveniently showed a notification that Lucifer had texted him about half an hour ago.

Lucifer: Have you and M/C returned? The weather is getting worse and it is almost time for dinner. Lucifer: M/C is not answering her DDD. Will you please update me on the situation once you see these texts? Lucifer: Satan. If this is a repeat of last time I will make you wish that I just strung you from the ceiling like Mammon.

Perfect.

Satan: Don’t worry big brother, M/C is inside and safe from the storm.

The eldest brother responded almost immediately.

Lucifer: It took you long enough to respond. I will be speaking to you about this after dinner. I hope you’ve made sure she’s eaten, it’s past dinner time and I can’t guarantee that Beelzebub has not gotten into the leftovers. Satan: Don’t worry, she’s having a great time.

*one image attached*

Lucifer: What. Is. That. Satan: Sorry, I’d assumed you’d seen a woman topless before. Silly me. That’s a bra, it’s a type of undergarment women wear to support their breasts. Lucifer: I know what a bra is. Why do you have a picture of what I can only assume is M/C’s bra taken from inside her room? Satan: Oh, I think you know, brother.

He nudged the human beside him, who was enjoying the skinship and starting to drift off to sleep.

“Hey, wanna mess with Lucifer?”

“Always”

“Can I take a picture of you in bed? You can cover as much of your skin as you want”.

She took a moment to think. “Sure, why not?”

He knew he loved her for a reason.

[horsetailcurlers2]

YET ANOTHER long and obnoxious stream of my thoughts while watching greys anatomy for the first time (SEASON 16 bc i decided i will try to catch up to you guys who are awaiting S20)

-tom koracick, despite all outward appearances, is far too nice

-bailey pisses me off sometimes bc she usually isn’t wrong, but within the parameters of how everyone behaves on the show, her decisions feel wrong, yk? like irl absolutely she should have fired them without a doubt. but in this soapy medical show in which everyone commits malpractice five times a week, it feels like she’s overreacting lmao. does that make any sense?

-meredith in her community service outfit is kind doing something to me

-a man on a scooter just ran into maggie and amelia’s car and it startled me so bad i drew blood with my cross-stitching needle!

-lisa ann walter!! and charmed cast in the same ep!

-bailey and i are beefing actually

-do NOT have another affair, richard webber

-“how come my mom hasn’t called from sleepover community service?” sleepover community service PLS

-a lumineers song in the background!!! the music is good again

-why is owen pulling this bullshit again!!!!!!!!!!

-bailey is making me so fucking mad right now. she has no room to act morally superior considering some of the shit she’s pulled. she also continues to have this attitude that meredith should owe her something for being her teacher…. which is sort of valid but let’s not pretend that bailey doesn’t owe meredith quite a bit too. idk again it’s one of those things again where in real life, she’s be perfectly justified but within the fictional guidelines set up by the show, she’s being a vindictive asshole.

-patricia!!!!!

-“she is the sun and she is unstoppable” !!!!!

-addison wrote one too!!!!

-this episode is potentially a little too sentimental and overly emotional but i really really like it. the nostalgia bait made me like it even more actually

-more lumineers!!!! i really like this episode. (i’ll stop now but it’s the first episode in a really long time that i’ve really enjoyed the entire thing)

-everyone is being really dramatic about koracick he really isn’t that bad

-i want to like schmitt it just feels like we were sort of thrown into deep emotional story lines for him without getting to know him beyond surface level. maybe it’s just me it just feels like the show wants me to have a certain level of emotional investment in him that i don’t have (yet?)

-beanie feldstein!

-teddy’s sparkly little winter hat is so cute

-TEDDY NO. i don’t mind if you cheat on owen tbh but plz don’t play with tom’s feelings instead of facing your problems.

-i’ll not comment a lot on the alex thing bc i had spoilers for it and honestly it’s just so ridiculous. it’s one of those things that i don’t blame the character for bc i know it was the writers and other irl circumstances. i imagine from izzies perspective this is the culmination of a beautiful crazy love story akin to the notebook. but from our perspective this sounds like the lie you tell your kids when the family dog dies- “oh he went to live on a farm”

-does richard have another brain tumor??? this doesn’t seem like a relapse but…

-i know it’s wrong but i wouldn’t mind this affair if i thought the show was treating teddy/tom as a serious option. as it stands, i just think teddy is being selfish

-i knew the baby wasn’t gonna be owens

-i KNEW this would be a boy who cried wolf situation with deluca. unfortunately, he also is struggling mentally i think but i don’t know if he’s manic or suffering from a break. they had me convinced i was wrong for a minute, but i knew it would turn out that he was right about the girl being trafficked. but i definitely think that he was nowhere near ready to come back to work and that the psychologist should not have cleared him. i hope he gets the help he needs soon bc i really like deluca :(

-the conference in LA would’ve been the perfect opportunity for an addison cameo

-OOH A TWIST IN TEDDY’S BACKSTORY. this explains a lot

-OOH SO MANY TWISTS THIS EPISODE.

-i am fighting for my life trying to defend teddy in my head. i hate owen as much as the next guy but this whole thing is brutal to watch.

[duskhallowed]

uroborosymphony answered :

Ara glances over her shoulder as soon as the door opens. Her who hoped to not cross a single soul when taking the risk to come back in here. Here, the first floor of the garage, a place that used to be her home too, a place that seems to have been deserted little by little. A month now passed ever since the Taiyang and Ara decided to take different paths or well, ever since he took that decision for the both of them. The vengeress did not want to cross paths with him nor with the rest of the gang, truly. All dressed in black, a tight tech attire, bulletproof, far away from her usual latex, leather, fur and jewelry. 30 days have passed since she has not heard Yoona's annoying voice, and even though a part of her wanted to tell her to fuck off, to go away, the shut up, to leave her alone, the words the other spoke did touch her. "Have you?" Questions the ex leader, emptying the cabinets from what to seemed to be silencers for guns that she waited long enough to come and collect. If the Quinn has fallen deep in sadness and despair for days, slowly it has been replaced by something else, something that has been crippling under her mind, waiting to break through her skin. "Thought you would be happy to know the crazy bitch making your life a nightmare would be gone, Doll." A sardonic laughter escapes from her mouth. A laughter from a voice that seemed to have dropped a few octaves than usual, ever deeper, raunchier, on the edge and yet every single one of her gestures were controlled. Her features, if anybody would look from too closed, seemed disturbed as well. Not in a manic phase type of way, but as if this dormant pain has suddenly marked her features harsher and harsher. No red lipstick, no loop hearings. Turning around, the vengeress clocks the silencer on the gun in the fast mechanic move of an assassin ready to execute her target. Ara did not want to stay, actually on her way to a mission, her own missions now. Many would think she did drop the vigilante life not having the gang by her side : well, quite the opposite, The Quinn has become entirely something else, an entity amputed from her minions and wealth, radical, extremist, one who did not come to play nor negociate. The moon is reflecting on the disturbing lines of half of her face, the other hidden in the shadowss she now faces Yoona from afar. "Haven't you heard? I am absolutely Fine. The voices in my head are so loud, apparently everyone can fucking hear them now. Isn't that beautiful?" Ara explains pointing at her own forehead, her eyes widening with a grin as she taps against her skull a few times to indicate her brain. " So why would you be worried huh? I have never felt so free." Her words sound like relailed bike, a rusty chain, a mechanic doll on repeat. We are free, we are free to do as we please, the voices were right all along, we are going to set everyone else free, nobody is going to stop us, they are all so close minded, they were just slowing us down. "You. You okay?" The gun is shoved down the pocket by her thigh. The question is harsh, but meant. Yoona and Ara used to spend their days together, besides their complicated relationship, Yoona became someone to her, someone she has been deprived of when having to cut herself off the gang. @uroborosymphony

her hands, manicured with a white-and-pink glow, waved anxiously to protest Quinn's suggestion. " no! i'm not happy you're gone, Quinn-nim! " Yoona hears her own voice echo back at her (unintentionally loud in the garage) and thinks, now she understands why everyone called her annoying... the girlish, nervous, squeaking of a woman who was used to serving a temperamental queen. so she straightens her posture and stands in silence. hands tucked in front of her, brows furrowed... a loose bullet falls from the cabinet that Ara is raiding, and makes a shing noise when it hits the floor. far away from the public showroom, tucked away in the back of the garage where only 'employees' could access, was this room. the acoustics serve as a reminder that there was not another living soul here besides the two of them. Yoona thought she would be happy to see this day... Quinn had always been harsh on her . . . and even if she hadn't, Yoona had always envied her, and everything she had . . . but now she stands frowning, feeling heavy gloom in her stomach as she watches the Queen of Black Fang work on her own. her newfound independence was enviable, too, perhaps, but... Yoona can't help but think everything about this looks so wrong. What had happened to Black Fang?! Weren't they supposed to be a family?! Yoona doesn't understand. and why ( despite their time apart, no matter their disagreements ) did Taiyang and Quinn still have to work in some kind of treacherous tandem ? because even apart, they had both changed. gone were the sly, surefire smirks she was used to seeing on her bosses' faces. the careless and thoughtless barbs they threw her way were no longer; they were both too lost in a DARKNESS to waste time on such petty things. they walked like dead, greyscaled versions of their former selves, both of their eyes and voices blackened . . . and of course, nobody would tell her why ! nobody told a lowly girl like her why everything was falling apart... leaving Yoona behind to serve them in a constant haze of confusion. tears burned in her eyes as she watched Quinn; she was frozen in stunned paralysis as the woman rifled through the garage's armory.

until finally, she answers Quinn's question. " I'm not okay... " she answered with a strange sort of certainty, and shook her head fervently, her face contorted into a scrunchy pout. her lips quivered as she tried to hold it together. she wants to launch herself at Quinn and throw her arms around her, cling to her— not for comfort, no, and not even to comfort Quinn . . . but to keep her here, to force her not to go. it wasn't the same without her ! everything felt so empty . . . ( especially him. ) but she knows it is not her place to do so . . . and Yoona would never do something that Quinn forbade. she never even dared to speak up against Quinn, not once... but there's a subtle defiance in her answer. so subtle that one might have to squint to see it... but it's there. Yoona was saying 'I'm not okay and neither are you. neither is Taiyang. none of this is okay! COME HOME!' silently pleading for it to be so. but she cannot say that, so she says what she can:

" do you need help, Quinn-nim ? can I— do you want me to come with you ? "

[fluent-in-lesbianism]

ok ok... so #1 thanks for blogging about GAP i loved it, and convinced my gay SIL to watch it and she keeps coming into my office to yell about it LMAO. BUT!! i know you were talking about other thai GL series this year? and i can't remember them all do you have a list somewhere i need them all. and by "i" i mean "we" and by "we" i mean me and my SIL lmao

You're welcome! I have a feeling I'll be crying over GAP for the rest of my life. You're welcome to join and bring your SIL over for the crying session as well 😭

Luckily for us, there are actually quite a few Thai gls in the works. I'll make a list below with links. One's currently airing, one's already aired (not GAP obvi), and the others are still in production:

1. Show Me Love (Airing now with English subs!) Summary: Meena, a small-town girl, moves to Bangkok to achieve her dreams. She chances across Cherlyn who asks her to join an agency to compete in the Miss Grand beauty pageant. Meena initially turns it down because she’s not interested. However, she agrees after receiving an offer of a large monthly sum throughout the competition. Meena’s journey for the crown begins and an unexpected romance with Cherlyn sparks.

2. Love of Secret (already aired and ready to watch) Summary: Panpan is a medical student with a dream of becoming an idol. She's forced to conceal that dream because her father is a famous surgeon who hopes his daughter will go on to become a doctor like himself. What's more, Panpan is concealing her relationship with Aitim, her girlfriend, best friend, and biggest fan.

3. 23.5 (THE most anticipated gl in herstory #MilkLove4Eva) Summary: Ongsa, a loner all her life, falls in love at first sight with the more popular Sun. However, with the fear of being rejected, she decides to approach Sun under the pseudonym "Earth". As Sun gets more and more curious about who Earth is and starts to fall for her, will Ongsa reveal herself to Sun? Check out Magic of Zero: Zero Photography (the first 4 parts are InkPa aka the same actresses who star in 23.5).

4. Reverse 4 You (ngl I'm really looking forward to this one) Summary: Jattawa seems like an ordinary law student, but she has the ability to control time. Her younger sister Vivi has the ability to see the future. Lately, though, Vivi's visions seem to be wrong. Therefore, Jattawa finds it easy to disbelieve Vivi's latest prediction that P'Four, her university senior with a bad reputation, is Jattawa's future lover.

5-8. Be Mine the Series Summary: Stay with me on this. There are 4 novels by Khun Phuying getting adapted into 4 different gls. Each gl will follow one main couple and have their own plot line, but the gls all happen in the same Be Mine universe. So the characters all know each other or are related to others in the adaptions and have history (like The L Word but hopefully not as poorly written). The first to air will be More & More (Tawan & Winnie), then Be My Baby (Sitang & Jaojay), followed by Be My Sugar (Perth & Piphim), and finally Be My Boo (Phapie & Jaokha). M&M's supposedly airing sometime in 2023. Fingers crossed the scheduling sticks!

9. Love in the Rain Summary: Sevena is a singer and dancer in the group SKIU. To those she's not close with, she comes across as arrogant. It's in the world of gaming that she can be herself under the name Mei Li. Events in the gaming world come to change her real life. Returning, Sevena finds that when the rain comes, all sounds come to a stop save for the voice of one person. Part 1 in the SKIU series.

10. The Perfect Song Summary: Mirin will come to make Iris able to compose love songs again. Part 2 of the SKIU series.

11. Step Up Summary: No summary yet but it's part 3 of the SKIU series. I'm assuming these are like the Be Mine series in that they're all interconnected and occur in the same universe.

12. About Galaxy Summary: Idk but I found a casting video for it. It's another novel adaptation. If you can find an English translation for the novel, hmu so I can add it here please :)

13. The Last Case Summary: Nobody knows what this is about, not even them! *ba dum tss* It's still in the casting phase and probably won't air for awhile. But from what I'm seeing and reading, it's gonna be the first Thai gl thriller and probably scare the shit outta us.

Also, the author of GAP sold rights to at least 3 other books which are being adapted into gls: Us, Irresistible, and Dream.

[uroborosymphony]

i’ve been so worried about you! ( Yoona at Ara;; hER IDOL who she hates a teeny bit because she envies her so much but also lowkey loves her because THAT’S MOTHER… BLACK FANG’s MOMTHER….. 🥺🖤 )

Ara glances over her shoulder as soon as the door opens. Her who hoped to not cross a single soul when taking the risk to come back in here. Here, the first floor of the garage, a place that used to be her home too, a place that seems to have been deserted little by little. A month now passed ever since the Taiyang and Ara decided to take different paths or well, ever since he took that decision for the both of them. The vengeress did not want to cross paths with him nor with the rest of the gang, truly. All dressed in black, a tight tech attire, bulletproof, far away from her usual latex, leather, fur and jewelry. 30 days have passed since she has not heard Yoona's annoying voice, and even though a part of her wanted to tell her to fuck off, to go away, the shut up, to leave her alone, the words the other spoke did touch her. "Have you?" Questions the ex leader, emptying the cabinets from what to seemed to be silencers for guns that she waited long enough to come and collect. If the Quinn has fallen deep in sadness and despair for days, slowly it has been replaced by something else, something that has been crippling under her mind, waiting to break through her skin. "Thought you would be happy to know the crazy bitch making your life a nightmare would be gone, Doll." A sardonic laughter escapes from her mouth. A laughter from a voice that seemed to have dropped a few octaves than usual, ever deeper, raunchier, on the edge and yet every single one of her gestures were controlled. Her features, if anybody would look from too closed, seemed disturbed as well. Not in a manic phase type of way, but as if this dormant pain has suddenly marked her features harsher and harsher. No red lipstick, no loop hearings. Turning around, the vengeress clocks the silencer on the gun in the fast mechanic move of an assassin ready to execute her target. Ara did not want to stay, actually on her way to a mission, her own missions now. Many would think she did drop the vigilante life not having the gang by her side : well, quite the opposite, The Quinn has become entirely something else, an entity amputed from her minions and wealth, radical, extremist, one who did not come to play nor negociate. The moon is reflecting on the disturbing lines of half of her face, the other hidden in the shadowss she now faces Yoona from afar. "Haven't you heard? I am absolutely Fine. The voices in my head are so loud, apparently everyone can fucking hear them now. Isn't that beautiful?" Ara explains pointing at her own forehead, her eyes widening with a grin as she taps against her skull a few times to indicate her brain. " So why would you be worried huh? I have never felt so free." Her words sound like relailed bike, a rusty chain, a mechanic doll on repeat. We are free, we are free to do as we please, the voices were right all along, we are going to set everyone else free, nobody is going to stop us, they are all so close minded, they were just slowing us down. "You. You okay?" The gun is shoved down the pocket by her thigh. The question is harsh, but meant. Yoona and Ara used to spend their days together, besides their complicated relationship, Yoona became someone to her, someone she has been deprived of when having to cut herself off the gang.

[the-hilda-librarians-wife]

(un)Worthy

Pairing: Sketchbook (Kaisa/Johanna)

Summary: “Johanna bit down everything she wanted to say, seeing red in a way that didn’t allow her to notice the challenge in Kaisa’s voice as she called her her best friend. No, that certainly wouldn’t do. Her Kaisa, going out with someone who couldn’t keep from lashing out at others because of her own emotional turmoil? Someone that was so clearly only interested in her aloof persona, since she never got close and that was all that people who didn’t talk to her could ever see? 

Her Kaisa, telling herself that a mediocre relationship was fine, that this was the best she could ever get, because somehow that was how that wonderful girl’s brain always worked? 

No, Johanna could not let that stand.”

Notes: uuhh so I couldn’t stop thinking about this concept and it escalated. Happy pride ig, have some gays (also this is an AU in which Kaisa and Johanna are friends as teens and Kaisa+Frida are Tildy’s daughters. So, you know, sketchbook bread and butter)

Read it on ao3

It happened while they were doing their homework together.

They always did that, ever since they had crossed the line from being just classmates who would greet each other politely in the corridors to actually friends, when they were thirteen. It had been years, but they never stopped. There had never been any need to, not when they seemed to work so well together. Two brains were better than one, after all.

They were at the park near Johanna’s house that day. Each time, one of them would pick where they would go, and while Kaisa preferred to stick to the library or to their houses, Johanna had always been one to try and get them to switch things up, insisting that a change in atmosphere would help them think. Kaisa would never have the heart to tell her no, of course, even if going to places such as the beach to work on their school chores felt a little too unorthodox for her tastes. But she supposed she should, as her friend put it, live a little.

Johanna hadn’t failed to notice how Kaisa had been sneaking uncertain glances at her since the morning, sometimes going so far as to open her mouth to say something before quickly snapping it shut. She didn’t press her; at this point, she knew her friend would speak whatever was on her mind when she was ready. When she did, however, it became clear that it was Johanna who wasn’t ready for what she had to say.

“Abigail asked me out today”

And just like that, the algebra worksheet on Johanna’s lap became so irrelevant it might as well not exist. She whipped her gaze to her friend, who was eyeing her expectantly and with a little caution, carefully gauging for a reaction.

”What?” Her voice came out harsher than she would have liked, so she continued without a pause lest Kaisa have any time to think that her discontent was aimed at her. “The snobbish fake blond who has picked on you since, like, eighth grade?”

Kaisa’s suffering sigh was enough of an answer. Johanna’s hands came to the earth underneath her, grounding, making her concentrate on the feeling of it and not on the mental image of Kaisa on a date with Abigail.

Fucking Abigail.

“So that’s a ‘no’, then.” 

Her friend wasn’t looking at her. Rather, lying with her belly down on the towel they had brought and with her chin propped up on her hands, Kaisa seemed to examine Johanna’s stance: the sudden rigidness, the legs bent at the knees that she had drawn closer to herself, the hands gripping the soil. The scrutiny made Johanna feel like she was under a magnifying glass, and it was one of those moments in which she was forced to remember that, although Kaisa wasn’t exactly perceptive, spending years of your life tied at the hip to someone will be enough to get you to know them quite well. And Kaisa had all her patterns memorised like they were the lines to her favourite song.

Johanna’s only hope was that she hadn’t learned to read her mind just yet.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, she came to talk to me before History.” Kaisa said, still not looking at her face. “Said that she wanted to apologise, that her borderline bullying had always been because she was enamoured by me and couldn’t admit to herself that she liked girls… something of the sort. And then she asked me for a fresh start and a date. I told her I had to think it through and I’d get to her. What I really wanted to know was your opinion on the matter. You’re my best friend, after all, I value your opinion.”

Johanna bit down everything she wanted to say, seeing red in a way that didn’t allow her to notice the challenge in Kaisa’s voice as she called her her best friend. No, that certainly wouldn’t do. Her Kaisa, going out with someone who couldn’t keep from lashing out at others because of her own emotional turmoil? Someone that was so clearly only interested in her aloof persona, since she never got close and that was all that people who didn’t talk to her could ever see? 

Her Kaisa, telling herself that a mediocre relationship was fine, that this was the best she could ever get, because somehow that was how that wonderful girl’s brain always worked?

No, Johanna could not let that stand. And, well, she probably shouldn’t let thinking of Kaisa as ‘hers’ stand either, but it had become instinct long ago and Johanna had simply lost the energy to fight it.

“It’s not a ‘no’. If it’s me you’re asking, it’s a hell no. I only trust that one as far as I can throw her.”

Kaisa’s stifled laughter came out as a snort. Between the two of them, Johanna had always been the ‘nice’ one. The ‘respect is a given, disrespect must be earned’ one. The one people went to when they needed comforting and not a reality check. So this situation was funny, of course, not only because it was so out of character for her, but also because it was so in line with what her mother had told her would happen that Kaisa might just begin to believe the rumours in the neighbourhood saying that Tildy was a witch. 

“You know, at some point you’re going to have to approve of someone that I might have a chance with.”

“Listen, it’s not my fault none of the names you brought me have been worthy of you so far!”

Uncharacteristically, Kaisa brought her gaze directly to Johanna’s eyes, in a way that Johanna could very clearly see the amusement in hers. She squirmed against the tree she was sitting back against. This was normal, right? She couldn’t suspect anything just because Johanna was being a good, protective friend, right?

Even if it stung that that was all she could treat her as.

“What about Adeline?” There it was, Johanna knew that that would come back to bite her in the future. “You can’t deny she’s very nice, but you still weren’t pleased when she wanted to take me to prom.”

Looking away at the children playing tag in the distance, Johanna forced herself not to let those memories out of the “DO NOT OPEN” box at the back of her mind, having been filed as way too dangerous and scary to be contemplated on. The last thing she needed right now was to listen to the soundtrack of her heart breaking as Kaisa so happily announced she’d finally been asked to prom by someone two years ago. When they went together every year.

 “I said I was sorry about that! It was immature, sure, but sue me for not being pleased about the person I always go to these things with going with someone else!” She crossed her arms over her chest, still refusing to look back at her.

“You didn’t see me complaining that time you went with Gerda.”

Well, almost every year.

You could have, Johanna thought morosely, missing how amused Kaisa sounded.You could have and I would have dropped it to go with you.

The Gerda thing had been a disaster. She was a good girl, too good to have had to deal with Johanna’s mess. And too smart as well. In the end, she broke up with Johanna after just a few months, because she had realised way before Johanna herself did that their relationship was only Johanna trying to convince herself that she wasn’t in love with her best friend. Which was, of course, a lie.

Gerda was still one of her closest friends, and the only one who knew (or at least, the only one who had been told point-blank, because she had had the nerve to actually ask) of Johanna’s true feelings towards Kaisa.

“Well, that’s because someone has to be the emotionally mature one here, Kai!”

“And you’re expecting it to be me? That’s a disaster, Anna”

Johanna snorted. It really was essential for survival that they remain together, because if either of them had to bear the weight of being truly mentally sound by themselves, they’d crash and burn in a week.

Or, you know, maybe they’d be way more intelligent on their own. She would never forget the day she’d been playfully flirting with Kaisa, who had been giggling and returning the quips (because that was something besties did, damnit), only for Raven, who had been sitting at their table, to exchange glances with Alfred and tell him “Wow, their brain cell count subtracts when they’re together.” 

“Well then.” Kaisa spoke up again, lifting herself up so she could sit on her heels in front of Johanna. “Let me try to understand your point of view. Is Juniper worthy?”

Johanna blinked, and her face contorted into a frown almost immediately as she looked at Kaisa. Unfortunately, Kaisa’s expression was deadpan. The girl meant business, which would probably mean Johanna would have to insult her entire class in the next five minutes.

“No. She’s like Abigail, but hides that fact behind a smile. She’s fake, which makes her worse.”

“Hm. What about the other Abigail, from Geography?”

“Sure, if you want to be cheated on. No.”

Johanna tried not to think about how she felt more than slightly threatened by the idea of miss ‘coolest girl in school’ taking an interest in Kaisa. There was a smile tugging at Kaisa’s lip by now, but she was trying valiantly to not let it show. Good. They both knew she wasn’t being fair, and even Kaisa could put two and two together. At least she had that much sympathy for the spot she was putting Johanna in.

“Alright. Agnes?”

“The heck? No.”

“Trylla?”

Johanna pretended to think for a few moments.

“She comes closer. But no.”

“Victoria?”

At her friend’s scowl, Kaisa’s heart picked up pace. Her mother and sister had been trying for so long to convince her of what was right in front of her eyes, but she had never allowed herself to believe. Even now, it seemed too good to be true. It seemed too bold to try, like she could send the best friendship in her life to its grave. And yet, Johanna was hardly leaving much room for doubt.

Which was a feat, since there was nothing Kaisa was quite as well versed in as second guessing and questioning herself.

“The two of you are way too similar in some ways and way too different in others, Kaisa. Plus, you know Birgitta would come in the package.”

Johanna startled when Kaisa manoeuvred herself closer to her, so that Kaisa’s knees were on the ground just in front of her feet. Her smile was visible now, as was the blush in Johanna’s cheekbones.

“Birgitta?”

“Like I said, Victoria comes free in the package. And you’d kill each other within the week, and I don’t think Birgitta would appreciate the mess.”

Kaisa rose on her knees, placing her hands on top of Johanna’s kneecaps and making her gulp as she did so. Johanna looked up at her face like a cornered animal, sure that she could hear her heart beating like a bad marching band. Sure that she could see her staring at the way Kaisa was biting her lip uncertainly.

“And you?” She said, her voice so low that it felt like she was afraid of Johanna hearing. “Would you be worthy?”

Her breath caught on her throat, hands clenching. Kaisa looked down at her no longer with amusement, but in all seriousness, her face a silent plea. It wasn’t a plea for the answer she wanted, though. It was a plea for the honest answer, a plea to let them out of this vicious circle of trying to find something in other people and feeling their hearts screaming when the other did the same.

How could she not comply?

“No. I still wouldn’t.” She whispered. “But I’m afraid I’d be very pleased.”

Kaisa smiled, and leaned down to give them the kiss they’d been looking for this whole time. 

[angelrider13]

Are you still working on your SI!Leviathan verse? Asking, cause recently I have wondered - you wrote a seaborne!Regis au but what about a seaborne!Noctis?

Like, my initial idea was that maybe it was during the Marilith Incident when he was 8. I don't recall any canon info about the precise location (besides between Insomnia and Galdin Quay), but there could be a river or maybe it was near a seashore.

Either way, bb Noctis is thrown into the water during the attack, too injured to swim, maybe even doesn't know how to yet. And Thalassa, well, she's not heartless, she's not gonna leave a little kid dead. (And maybe there's a small voice at the back of her head that points out that it could help her derail the prophecy, if the newest Chosen King was her sea-child.) She turns him into one of her seaborne.

Noctis stays with his Tidemother only long enough to get hang on his transformation (so 1-2 weeks, tops) because Thalassa doesn't want to draw attention to this. Not yet. And then she puts on a vaguely human shape, kinda like Shiva's Messanger form, and takes Noctis back to Insomnia, to his father.

(Regis was Panicking and Raging the entire time Noctis was missing, and thinking that Nilfheim grabbed his baby boy. He Refuses to contemplate the other option.)

No idea what would happen next, exactly, but it would involve a major bsod on Regis and Co's part when they realise Leviathan helped a Lucis Caelum and Much Research into both prophecy and the Astrals, and merfolk legends.

Also, Ignis and Gladio Despairing because Noctis no longer hides from his lessons under the bed, oh no. Now he hides at the bottom of a pond in Citadel's gardens.

While this is a fabulous idea, it doesn't work with the lore I've built for the verse.

Don't get me wrong, Thalassa would 100% be ready and willing to adopt Noctis (especially after she decides that Regis is Her Person), Bahamut already laid claim to Noctis the moment he was born and once and Astral has done so, they've pretty much declared them off limits to their siblings. And while Bahamut has already bent and broken quite a few Laws, Leviathan will not cross that line.

BUT! FOR FUNSIES!

It is absolutely in character for Thalassa to fuck with the prophecy at every available opportunity so, of course, when smol, baby, heavily injured Chosen King crashes into her waters, she's going to snatch him up. (Bahamut: YOU DARE - Thalassa: Well I didn't see you stepping in. What was I supposed to do let him die???)

It'd be longer than 2 weeks, more like 6-12 months. Thalassa isn't gonna rush her new baby's induction just because he's a prince. That title doesn't mean anything to her anyway - he's not her prince. He's her newest son.

So please imagine, Regis absolutely losing his mind over his missing boy. Refusing to believe the worst even though there is no evidence Noctis survived. Nilfheim could have taken him, could have spirited him away into some laboratory - no. No. He will not stop looking until he finds his son or he finds a body. And if he finds a body, Nilfheim will be reminded what happens when a Lucis Caelum takes the field.

As it is, Regis takes a far more active role in the actual warfare - in a way he hasn't ever. In way his father hadn't either. He runs missions himself, draws up plans, and starts pushing Nilfheim back in a way Lucis hasn't managed in years.

AND THEN.

Even with the positive turn of the war, months have passed. Regis is a widowed king with a missing heir. His counsel is making noises about him remarrying, about securing the line of succession. Regis won't hear of it. Despite being no closer to finding his son, he refuses to consider the alternative, refuses to even contemplate replacing him.

And it is in the middle of such an argument with the counsel when there is the sudden crystal fracture sound of a warp mixed with the crashing of a wave as a small whirlwind of water condenses in the room.

The woman that emerges from it is ethereal and inhuman and dangerous. Long sea green hair done up in braids with sea glass and shells and driftwood. She's dressed in sheer layers of cloth that shimmer in the light like rippling water. Her golden eyes flicker over his counsel dismissively before landing on Regis, a grin tugging on her lips revealing pointed teeth.

"King of Lucis," she greets with a nod of her head, "I believe you are missing something."

"Dad!"

His eyes jerk down and that's his son. His Noctis, whole and hale and alive, holding this strange woman's hand and he's here -

Regis doesn't even realized he's warped across the room until he and Noctis are crashing into each other, clinging desperately to any part of each other they can reach.

"How-?" he gasps out around his tears.

Noctis pulls back and Regis can't help the way his grips tightens. His son doesn't let go though, just looks up at him with eyes that are the wrong color and says, "Mother rescued me!"

Regis blinks. "...Mother?"

The woman hums, startling him. "And now he has been returned home, safe and sound," she says, smoothing a hand over his son's hair. "Different than before, but no less loved for it, hmm?"

It sounds almost like a threat but Regis isn't given any time to reply to that before Noctis is blinking up at her.

"You're leaving?" he asks.

The woman nods, leaning down to place a tender kiss on his son's forehead. "This place is not for me. But I will visit from time to time should you wish."

"Yes!" Noctis demands instantly.

She chuckles. "Very well, Sweet Prince. Until next time."

And between one blink and the next, she is gone. She is gone and Regis has no answers and no explanation, but his son is in his arms, safe and alive, and that is all he ever wanted.

[madaminamorganheadsforthearctic]

Still on board and it wasn’t raining -yet.

An announcement asked/ordered floating retirement home inmates to a ‘how-to-escape’ meeting at 10am. I arrived just before hand to find that the room had filled up from the front. How weird is that and so instead of having a race for the back row, it’s empty. We are given our instructions for departing on docking at Bergen. Lots of things about cabins need to be emptied by 10am and suitcases to be put near lifts. This is all quite clever as they need to get everyone off the ship quickly, so all cases are going to be scooped up by the on board team and deposited on an airport type carousel in the dock, which you collect after you have walked down the gangplank and scanned your cabin key to leave (and get a deep soleful electronic goodbye). And we are also going to walk off on a deck by deck basis starting with 7. Pecking order so evidently still allowed in Norway!

The flaw is obvious for the car drivers, but I decide not to raise it in the meeting and head instead for the reception desk. Am pushed to one side by the crowd surging to pick up their written instructions of what they have been told - why?- and so I am beaten to the reception finishing line another car driver. He must be the only other one as the flaw is so obvious.

He is German but explains it in English. ‘Your arrangements are fine for those who will be getting a taxi or a bus, but how do I drive off, go though entry requirements and then turn back to find a parking place and then go in from what is now the outside and find my luggage on the carrousel”. Totally right. Has he got the obvious solution? He has! Reception says that as long as we don’t tell anyone else, ignore the instructions and park our suitcases temporarily in the hand luggage store on deck 3, then carry them down to our cars as soon as the door to that part of the hold opens. And she says that these doors will be unlocked early so get ready. Splendid.

I head for the decent seats in the observation lounge as with this lot tussling to get a written version of the instructions, squatters rights will have been lost. Good theory. I pass the coffee shop and there are a number of people sitting in chairs set out to view a big screen. A film perhaps? No! They are watching a recording of all the trips they have been on and can buy a recording for a mere few thousand NOK.

I go upstairs to take a pic of the fine weather and shift my swotting location to outside and get a seat.

We are due to stop for an hour at Kristiansund the pretty little town I had stayed the night at on my way north. Interesting

Interesting that however sophisticated the boat maybe, man catching rope on dock is still needed.

The coaches -2 this time- load up and head the pretty road to Molde where we will pick them up mid evening. A clutch of happy campers head off down the dock, so I follow them to see what they are actually going to. I suspect that at least some will have gone to the Trolls and Legends lecture this afternoon’s and which I ignored and maybe they learned something of interest.

A few hundred yards down the dock, one group peeled off crossed the road and went into the souvenir shop. A second group had walked on to the zebra crossing and they crossed and then turned back to the souvenir shop. Same but different! And the balance went into the shopping centre. I evidently missed nothing by being absent from ‘trolls and legends’

It starts to rain. Back to the boat via a most interesting clutch of old but still operating harbour ferries……

…..and yes, I did look in the gift shop. How about this for a Tory raffle prize? Joking!

And so go my last night. Can I swop my place in the restaurant for one in the Bistro? No, not allowed!

We encounter waves

I finish the night manager. Plot as follows:

Hunky bored Night Manger gets propositioned by junior gangster mistress, sends her info on arms smuggling to MI5, then beds mistress. MI5 recruits Hunky (no longer bored or a night manager) to stop chief gangster/arms smuggler. After a series of unbelievable, complex, but highly entertaining escapades, chief gangster/arms smuggler gets caught and banged up by Hunky, who then gets the girl.

Not as good as Bridgeton. Bed. I get off tomorrow !

[woodsdyke]

hi here's this one too (i haven't uploaded anything else yet)

It’s hard to tell if it’s six feet, but it’s close.

The hastily dug hole, not much of a rectangle but he can’t say he was going for precision, yawns up in front of him like a pair of waiting jaws.

He sits on the ground with an exhausted groan, dead grass crunching underneath him. He wipes sweat from his brow and the back of his hand comes back streaked in blood. Maybe his, maybe not.

When the body lands in the hole, it does so with a dull thump that makes nausea roil in the pit of his stomach. “I’m so sorry,” he mutters as he reaches for the shovel, and isn’t quite sure if he means it.

---

It was over money, because of course it was. People have always loved killing each other over a bit of gold, just enough to get another meal or so much that they will never know what to do with it, hoarded for no reason other than a deep-seated sense of greed that, if they’re unlucky, will strip away their humanity piece by piece, like wet parchment.

It’s enough to make him and his whole family comfortable for the rest of their lives and then some, for their children and their children’s children.

It doesn’t stop the guilt from following him like a hungry coyote, always just two steps behind him, matted fur and bright yellow eyes.

---

She looks at him, calm, gaze even, says ‘what the actual fuck is wrong with you’, and drops dead on the floor.

---

He tells Sadie. He has no idea why he tells her, but does all the same, because keeping her in the dark just feels like another strike against him, another tentative step towards the point of no return. ‘Jesus Christ, Arden,’ she tells him, sitting across the table, leaning forward with her hands clasped on the tabletop in front of her. He doesn’t know what her expression means, brow furrowed, lips pursed into a thin line. He looks at her, hopelessly, and tries to say something but no words come out and then that’s it. Sadie gets up from the table wordlessly and walks out of the room. Arden doesn’t follow her.

They never talk about it again.

The final story is that his sister got into a bar fight that ended badly, sudden and tragic. But she was always a difficult one, hot-headed and always ready for a fight, so it doesn’t surprise anyone much.

That night, Arden dreams of a mound of soil in a clump of trees in the middle of a cornfield.

--

He receives the inheritance in full. He signs the last piece of paperwork, pen scratching against parchment, and his hand shakes so much the letters look warped. He tells himself this is how it was supposed to be. She wouldn’t have even wanted it. She didn’t care about the money. She would have thrown it away on a whim. He’s using it to provide for his family. A voice somewhere in the back of his head asks why he murdered her over it, though, why he let her bleed out on his expensive Persian rug, why he dragged her bloody corpse to that clump of trees and dug an almost-six-foot-deep hole and didn’t even put a cross or a particularly nice rock, because he thinks and overthinks and feels a deep-seated terror of someone finding that pile of dirt and asking questions.

That Sunday, he goes to confession.

He worries the hem of his shirt between his thumb and index finger, looking down at the floor, at the bit of dull, yellowed light shining through between the floor and the confessional door.

“I killed my sister, Father,” he says, helplessly. “I killed my sister, and I don’t know if I regret it.”

--

He wakes up covered in cold sweat, heart in his throat, and climbs quietly out of bed, taking care not to wake Sadie. He throws on a coat and some boots and closes the front door silently behind him. It’s cold, frost crunching under his shoes as he walks, breath a small cloud of fog with every exhale. It’s a new moon, so the darkness stretches on for miles across the plains. Arden goes to the shed in the backyard and finds what he’s looking for. He heads for the cornfield with the shovel (the same one he used to bury her, he thinks, faintly ill) over his shoulder.

The clump of trees in the middle of that field is more threatening than he remembered the last time he was here. Dark, spindly shadows loom up at him.

He starts to dig.

He doesn’t know why. Doesn’t know what is compelling him to do this, what the end goal is supposed to be, what he expects to find. What sort of closure he thinks this will give him. He digs all the same.

Then it’s done, five feet and change into the dirt, and Arden fights the urge to just lay down and stay there. His arms are shaking from exertion and his clothes are covered in dirt and grime. He wipes his face with his sleeve and it comes back red.

Arden looks down at his sister’s final resting place and curses an empty grave.