#30 days of lost canvas

[britishchick09]

rewrite erik and usagi- digitally drawn in firealpaca and digitally touched up in photoshop! ;)

[charlotte-zophie]

Therapy conversation

Dear Fandom, dear Mr. Gaiman,

I hope this isn´t weird but i have something to confess.

Since I watched the second season of Good Omens, I've gone through so many phases that I barely recognize myself anymore.

My first reaction after episode 6 was shock, then I was disturbed because I didn't know that it was possible for a series to have such a strong influence on my psyche, I questioned myself and doubted my sanity. Then I was overcome by an incredible sadness and was really heartbroken. I felt like a pubescent teenager, in my mid-30s. I couldn't sleep properly for several days, had nightmares and my thoughts were with these two ineffable loving idiots the whole time.

And the worst thing about it was that for the first few days I was really ashamed to admit to myself and my husband that I was completely and hopelessly immersed in this world. I did nothing but watch videos, listen to sad songs, and read heartbreaking fanfictions for days. And of course I read the book again and watched the series over and over again. All in the hope that it will ease my heartache a little.

But as is often the case in these situations, after a few days in which no real change occurs, you have the thought that you will be lost in this feeling forever. But since I have 3 children that I need to look after, of course locking myself away for weeks with heartbreak wasn't an option, so I had to find an outlet for myself to channel my pain.

So I started painting a picture. By Aziraphale and Crowley. And stroke by stroke I let my feelings flow out of me and into the picture.

It took over a week until I had a motif in which I could see my thoughts and feelings expressed and then it took another week until I finished the picture. On an old canvas with paints that haven't been used for a long time, with many, many layers of old paint underneath.

But when the picture was finally finished, it really took a load off my mind. It was like I had broken a dam and was finally able to let it all out and convert it into creative energy.

But I think the most important thing was that I uploaded the picture to Tumblr and received such a response that I was incredibly touched and immediately motivated to paint more pictures.

Since that day, hardly a moment goes by when I am not holding a pen in my hand or not thinking about a new picture. I'm in one of the most creative phases in a very long time and I'm really enjoying it.

I am so grateful for the wonderful people here! Here I see that I'm not alone with my strange feelings that I still don't really know how to classify. Here I read thoughts that are so similar to mine, here I see works of art that melt my heart, here I feel understood!

And I am so grateful for the pain that showed me the way back to my creative energy!

Thank you Fandom!

Thank you Neil Gaiman!

I would have been lost without you!

Because I don't know my way around here very well, I didn't think about pinning the picture in question as a link when I created this post, but since many people have asked about it, I've pinned it here. Thank you all, love love love

[magicdustsworld]

Redemption

Levi Ackerman x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: For you, freedom comes in the form of college life. However, soon you come to realize that tethering liberating steps for way too long will get you to situations you don't want to be in.

Tropes: Professor/Student, explicit smut

Warnings: profanity, age gap (Reader is in early 20s, Levi is in his early to mid 30s), drug abuse, smoking, alcoholism, implied nudity and blackmail, body shot, toxic college life, toxic friendship dynamics, college/modern AU, no mentions if y/n.

Word count: 3.6k

Event: submission for levievent under the prompt of day 10 - age differences.

A/N: after a lot of contemplation, I have decided to let it be a two-shot series. The next part will contain filthy smut, hopefully updated by tomorrow and pls excuse any mistakes on this part, my laptop broke down so I had to type it on my phone. Hope you enjoy!

Divider credits - @cafekitsune

|NEXT|

This isn't supposed to be happening.

You aren't supposed to be bend over your professor's desk, skirt raised up and have your cunt pulsating over his cock like a damn virgin.

He clicks his tongue, "Filthy brat," tightening his hold over your binded wrists as his pelvis smacks against yours in a uniform rhythm. "Don’t tell me you're cumming so soon. We haven't even started yet."

Your cheek rests on the hard mahogany desk, polished and clean as your eyes roll back from the way his cock just hits your g-spot with every thrust. The drool runs down your lips, too lust drunk to care and too traversed beyond reality to give him a verbal answer as he continues to assault your puffy folds with his shaft. Slick runs down your thighs, dripping on the floor as the room reeks with the combined juices of your arousal. He reaches down, pressing his thumb on your swollen bud and you're sent over the edge.

Shit!

How did this happen?

.

You have been caged your whole life.

Therefore, when freedom came knocking at your door, you didn't have any second thoughts from breaking free of the chains that binded you to a gilded cage. For you, freedom came in the form of college life.

If anyone from your highschool years saw you now, they wouldn't be able to recognize you with the 180 degree turn in personality, makeover and peer choices. A complete change. The most significant change could be your schedule. While you were living under the stern gaze of your parents, you had a timetable to maintain which prescribed when and how you should be present at particular places. That timetable was taken, crumbled up and thrown in the trashcan as soon as you got the gist of dormitory life. Besides, with your peers indulging in situations they shouldn't be, why should you hold back? (Like c'mon, you need to live your life as well)

Previously, you'd spend Friday nights in the confines of your bedroom while blasting your favourite playlist in your earphones and doing your homework. Now, the same music would boom but you are swaying your hips to it, bopping yourself and getting lost in the game of dance under the neon lights of the frat house. Red cups and beer pongs would escalate, which you readily partook in with the addition of forgettable one night stands. You told yourself that you liked the air of random hook ups while you were high, for it left you guessing that which brother of the fraternity you had fucked or not. While vodka and a night of reprieve was one thing, you looked forward to the coke. The very coke which once inhaled, made the euphoria burst in your system while ecstasy took over and you'd find yourself falling under the spell of intoxication.

Mind blank as a canvas and too high on serotonin levels, the fog of inebriation would cloud your eyes and you'd get lost in another midnight rhapsody. Can you blame yourself? College is meant for trying out all the pleasures of life, right? A hub for fuck boys and girls seeking validation from each other by fucking their daylights out. The minority who inclined themselves to academics were clearly missing out on all the joys life had to offer.

However, you didn't know that your favourite coke would be the reason of your downfall.

Maybe, you should have known better.

No– of course, you should have known better.

What were you thinking?

You should have stayed inside that night instead of going out to the same frat house, when you had an important physical chemistry exam the next day.

As far as you can remember, you were paired with a jock of the football team for flip cup. Although, hazed memories you noted the strawberry blond hair styled back and amber eyes. Maybe his name was John? Or Jean? Whatever, you only remember winning the game and getting your hands on the coke. Sooner than anyone had the time to comprehend, you were lining the powder on your finger edge and inhaling it generously.

Did it not raise a series of ooh's and aah's from the onlookers?

Like all the previous nights, your eyes were open wide with the crimson tint staining your sclera as you got lost in the ebullient maelstrom. Combined with the alcohol already running in your system, it didn't take long for the waves to crash ove. In this reverie you didn't realize when you were situated on the table, with grains of salt being sprinkled over your navel by your partner. He dipped his head down– mouth filled with tequila– swirling and lapping the warm muscle over your skin, feasting on the granules and you didn't even care with all your senses falling numb.

Anyone can guess what would be the outcome of attending an exam when the after effects of the powder fails to cease. With a pounding headache and being unaware of most of the answers, you can't say you were surprised to see your grade.

The capital F beside your name stares back at you from the mark list.

.

"Can't be that bad."

"It is."

"Not so," Your friend giggles, raking her fingers through her ash-blond hair. "It's only one exam, cheer up."

You bit your inner cheek, heaving a deep sigh. "This exam marks forty percect of my overall grade, Hitch. And with the way, my marks have gone down the drain, I don't think I'll even be able to pass this year."

That's an honest concern on your part because the final report would be sent to your parents as well and if they ever saw you failing one class, you don't know what hell they'll raise. Besides, the excuses of sickness and tougher lessons can only be used so far. (Plus, your heart thumped in your chest with the thought if they ever find out about this new lifestyle of yours... let's not think about it).

"You know," Hitch muses, leaning back on her Chair as she blows a strawberry bubblegum in her mouth. " You can ask for extra credit."

"Yeah sure," You don't bother to hide sarcastic tone, rolling your eyes and choosing to rest your chin on top of your palm. "There's no chance."

She raises an eyebrow, "Why not?"

"It's professor Ackerman," That almost comes out as a whine. "He is ruthless as he is, always with the poker look on his face and I can swear he won't even smile at a clown." 

A sheepish smile curls up her lips but before she can speak, you start again.

"Plus, I am already on his bad books. Do you think he'll be all unicorns and rainbows when I ask for credits?" You fold your hand over your chest, gritting your teeth as if the cause of your predicament is the man in question; he isn't but you need something to get off your vexation. "That's straight up walking in a lion's den and I am sure he will come for my head."

"Oh, girl..." She sighs, interlocking her fingers together and perching them over the tabletop. "But why would he even do that when you will give him a show?"

That catches your interest, "a show?"

"A show," She nods, the upper pair of her teeth is revealed as she smiles, waving her finger in a circular motion in the air. "Just follow my advice."

.

You have never heard an advice as bad as that.

Correction:

You have never found yourself following an advice as bad as that.

Still, you find yourself here. Outside your professor's office, gazing at the ivory sign engraved with the obsidian lettering – Levi Ackerman, while you contemplate on how much this plan can go wrong. (In your opinion, 100%).

However, you are desperate and your desperation has brought you here. So why not...?

You knock on the door. Once. Twice. Stating your name as you suck in a deep breath, squaring your shoulders.

Please don't let it be long.

A deep voice reverberates from inside, "State your business."

"I would... like to discuss about my grades. May I come in, sir?"

"Yes."

You breath in, the knob turns and you set a foot inside.

"Remember," Hitch says, crossing one of her leg over the another. "You gotta look desperate." The tilt of your head and parting of your lips, garners her to explain more. "The first two," She snaps her fingers to the collar of your shirt, "Unbuttoned."

"What?!" On instinct, you fold your hand over your chest, twisting your torso in the opposite direction. "Are you out of your mind?"

"You want to increase your grades or not?"

"I do but–"

"No buts," The girl shushes you with a finger over your lips. "You want to get your way through college, you follow me. Got that?"

Left with no choice, you find yourself nodding.

The clicks of your heel seems to echo in the vast expanse of his office. It's almost afternoon and the orange glow of the setting sun pours into the space marring it with the similar hues. Late classes are adjourned for the day as the marks were announced. On top of that, its Friday. Therefore, regular classes would be starting after the weekend. The campus is almosy empty except a few staff and students lurking around the corners; a perfect opportunity to follow the plan.

Your find your professor to be seated across his desk, engrossed in reading a file while a pen is nestled between his thumb and pointer. As soon as he is aware of your presence, he looks up at you.

Instead of halting, a good distance away from his desk, you are walking up to it. Letting yourself stop within a meter of his proximity.

"What do you need to discuss?"

Prompt and straight to the point—as expected.

Lips breaking into a grin, you spin a strand of your open hair around your fingers. Leaning forward–it's apparent, what you're aiming at–you speak, "I was wondering... if I could get some extra credit in your class, sir?"

"He is your professor, that's your minus," She states with a lilt of her mouth. "But you're his student, that's his minus."

Levi raises an eyebrow, "Extra credit, you say?"

"He is a man, after all. And all men are perverts, give them a show of your assets and they'll be dancing on your drums."

He continues with a twitch of his lip, "And why would I do that?" 

"Give him all the performance he needs," Her eyes darts south, she tugs on the fabric of your skirt."The shorter this is, the higher your grades will be."

"You seem to know all about their psyches." You comment, pinching your lips and smoothening the material over your knees.

That evokes a laugh,"Babe, how do you think I keep my grades up?"

By following the same advice she has given you.

In accordance to her, a face full of makeup with tits on show and the skirt raised enough to give a generous view of legs—one can make the professor's their very own puppets. So, once the same advice and opportunity is presented to you, why should you back down?

"Well," You start, plopping yourself on the chair across him, crossing your legs one over the other–hiking up your (already)shortened skirt. "I am sure we can work something out like..." arching your elbow on the table, you let your manicured fingers drum against your cheek; a seductive approach. This should work. "You don't want one of your students to be held back now, do you, sir?"

He stares at you for a solid minute. A blink of his eyes follow.

You shift in your position—offering him a rather salacious view of your cleavage. Come on. Your visage holds innocence akin to a child learning the first steps of the world.

One thing about Professor Ackerman that enthralls you is just how attarctive he could be despite his age. Probably a decade older than you but he certainly carries the enigma of a young man charmed with the maturity of someone his age. Gray eyes, dark bangs in an undercut and he just dresses so much better than all of the male peers you have encountered. And a lot better than all of your filthy hookups.

Even then, he is a man. Just look at it. The silence is stretching for a minute too long and dare you say, its almost suffocating.

While Levi's eyes are on you—something which you do want—he rather seems to be scrutinizing your behaviour than satisfy his inner perverse attitude.

Maybe he keeps this face even while jerking off.

That thought alone raises a cinch of chuckle to escape your mouth. His eyebrows furrow. At last, he speaks. "How long have you been in my class?"

Seriously? Is he so keen on continuing this game of back and forth. Shouldn't he be asking you how much grades you require by now?

"Patince is the key."

Hitch's words ring in your mind and you follow her again. "Since the start to second year?"

He crosses his arm over his chest, muscles flexing under his dress shirt as he leans back on his chair. You mark how there's a gleam in his eyes before he continues, "And how many exams have you taken until now?"

"Three? Why are you... asking that?"

"You'll know soon enough," he pauses, letting a string of tension to seep in through his body language. And as much as you don't want it to bother you, it is bothering you. "In which of those exams have you got a grade over sixty percent?"

"Um, uh sir–" You fumble over your words, raking your brain for any suitable response and while your grades is actually being discussed—a pang of exposure swirls in with the way you are dressed. "I don't remember..."

"Never."

"O-oh," Unease ripples through you, crumbling the calm veneer you are trying to maintain.

His gaze hardens, a tick of jaw and the creases on his forehead just shows he isn't in the mood for your performance. "Why?"

Only a low chuckle is released, attempting to depress the palpable tension."My bad... ah– you see, I don't have a good memory and that's why my grades are... well, you know."

"When have you ever cosulted me with the problem regarding your memory?" He cocks his head to the side, inverting the hourglass on his table. Shifting his attention back to you, he asks, "Besides, have you ever truly followed through my lesson in class? Ever tried to do your assignments by yourself?"

"Of course, I did," a clear cut lie but he doesn't have to know that. "But they are too difficult. You can't blame me, college is tough on its own and I have so many subjects to study–"

You wish to continue with your rant but the terse call of your name stops you on your tracks. His lips are curled down and he looks at you with utter disdain as if you were a bug. "If you have even paid a bit of attention in my class then you should know that I mark half of your grades by your attentiveness and student conduct. Something–" You swallow a lump in your throat, slumping your shoulders and hiding your chest from his gaze. "–you clearly lack and with the absolute shit you write on your answer sheets, you should know better than to expose your body in the name of discussion."

Blank.

You are completely blanked out.

What is there to say even?"

You chew on your lower lip, eyes flickering to anywhere but him. Clutching the mesh of your skirt in your hold. This meeting isn't unfolding like anything Hitch said about. You manage to exhale a breath, trying to hide your with your hairs, "Sir... I guess, I should take– I should leave now."

Only slightly you raise yourself from the chair, Levi speaks again, "So soon?" You sheepishly nod, giving way that this encounter wouldn't be to your favour. "We were just getting started. Besides, there's something more I need to discuss with you."

You look at him from beneath your lashes. It's funny how timid you are now. "Like what?"

"I've heard rumors of students getting their hands on question sheets by– let's say, means," He opens his drawer, pulling out a folder. "So... I played a little game with y'all. Changing the question paper, last minute was tedious- but doable." He twists his lips, picking out a A5 sized paper with contents hidden from you. He keeps his eyes on it while speaking again, "Humorously, you seem to answer only those questions perfectly which were leaked–"

"Excuse me?" You intervene, quickly. "I have no connection with this paper leak mess."

"Then how do you explain your tardiness with the paper, this time?" Steel eyes have shifted to you, "As much of a bratty student you can be, you aren't the type to completely fail unless–"

"You're just accusing me or something, I haven't done. When I say I have no connections with paper leak, I mean it."

"Then how do you explain your–"

"I don't fucking know. Just a coincidence or– whatever!"

"Coincidence? You really expect me to believe that?"

"It's not on me if you believe me or not. I have gave you my statement and you should know better than to accuse me of something just because you hate me."

"Very well, then" He tilts his head, shrugging his shoulders. "I will just have the dean rusticate you–"

"You can't do that. I didn't even know about all this."

"You want to tell me that you weren't cursing out loud while writing the paper? Don't try to lie, Zacharius told me about your indency in exam hall."

"That was because I was high on coke not— no, I–" Your eyes widen as soon as you realize your fumbling. Lips parted, you are more apprehended as the blood drains from your cheeks. "No, I- uh... I didn’t mean that, j-just a slip of tongue."

As for Levi, he merely stares back at you and... is that a smirk on his lips? It sure is. A triumphant ghost of a smirk directed at you while you began to drown in the whirlpool of despair. "At least, you remember that."

He flips both the paper to you and if your heart wasn't beating with a 10x speed before, it sure is now. Your jaw hangs open, shoulders becoming rigid and the air knocked off your lungs like you've been punches to the gut.

Pictures.

They are pictures, yes and it would have been fine of it was just that but it isn't. In the very pictures, you find yourself. One with a cigarette between your lips and from the background it is starkly evident that it's the college campus. The second is more precarious for you're clicked with some of your pals but it's shot in a way that only your face is visible while the group blows on a pot of Marijuana.

You wrestled with a deep-sated fear, eyes thoroughly scrutinizing each speck and corner of the photos—something, anything to prove that it isn't you. That it's framed, that all of it is a big misunderstanding. The dread of facing your professor overshadows all the protests stringing on your mouth; they won't even be let out if you try.

"It's a shame really," His voice echoes, the screeching of the chair is heard before he is sauntering over to the other end of the room. "I had better expectations from you."

You don't register the mocking call of your name, physically unable to. The adrenaline surges through your veins, goosebumps arising on your body with each passing second.

You need to leave. Run. Soon. Now.

You find yourself frozen in your place.

"I wonder what your parents would have to say–"

"No, sir." Instantly you crane your neck over to him, nails digging on the armrests of your chair. Your shoulders rise and fall as the hypertension settles in you. Your heart is thumping in your ears, fingers are trembling with anticipation and to add insult to the injury, darkness has started to commence. "Not my parents, please sir. Th-they– I don't know what they'll do to me. Plesse sir, j-just not that."

He leans against the door of his office, gazing at you with mere casualty, "You think you are in the position to make requests?" His irises flicks to the corner of the room. "You've made your bed. Now lie on it."

"Sir, please–" You are on the verge where you wouldn't have a second thought before begging on your knees. Something's pooling in your eyes and it stings as bad as your nails on the wooden armrests. "Anything but that. I will complete all of your assignments and I'll personally improve my grades without anyone's help. Sir, just one chance, please."

He huffs, twisting his lips as if a mirthful play is being presented to him. "Why should I believe you? Have you ever given me a reason to know you're reliable?"

"Sir, I have to try." Instantly, you stand up, marching over to him. "And– and I know I've been indecent–"

"Irresponsible and obnoxious, as well."

"Yes," It's painful but you have no other choice. "I know and I am sorry. Really sorry, just give me another chance."

He tips his head towards you, narrowing his eyes, "You think, you're redeemable?"

"Yes, sir. Of course, I am ready to do anything to prove it to you."

His eyes sparkles with something you can't decipher, "very well," He straightens up, taking a singular step towards you—only now, you're aware of how limited proximity but before you can contemplate, he speaks, "Let's start your first lesson on redemption."

[cece693]

You Can't Outrun Fate (Hannibal Lecter x Male! Reader)

This came to me in a dream :) Well, a mix of dream and me seeking out alternative timelines in the Hannibal show. Hope you enjoy.

tags: posessiveness, slight jealousy, heartbreak, sad male reader, misunderstandings, m/n leaves Hannibal, but when does Hannibal allow something of his to escape his control, kidnapping

Hannibal Lecter was a drug, a highly addictive one at that. His charm, words, and actions ensnared you in his web until it was too late. This drug left you with nothing and no one, except him. M/N knew this all too well; he could hardly remember his old life before the murderer waltzed in and deemed him worthy of seeing past his multiple facades and joining his side. It had been years since that day, and M/N didn’t regret it. Like a blooming rose, M/N eagerly soaked up any attention Hannibal gave him. But nothing good lasts forever.

Hannibal was a man who thrived on adrenaline and enjoyed being challenged. What better challenge than finding Will Graham, a man harboring darkness which he tried hard to mask behind this front of normality? For the first time since M/N, someone had forced their way into Hannibal’s mind palace and made a home there.

M/N had known since the beginning of their relationship that it wouldn’t be long before Hannibal grew bored of him. Hannibal detested routine more than he detested rudeness—being chained to M/N without the ability to indulge in others was unbearable for him. M/N was foolish to think he would be enough to satiate the monster within Hannibal. Will Graham became the perfect canvas for Hannibal to mold into his equal, leaving M/N in the dust.

It began innocently enough with Hannibal bringing the detective into their conversations, making off-handed comments about Will’s unique gift. His fascination grew, and soon enough, Hannibal was deserting M/N at their home without a note or message, prioritizing Will’s 7:30 pm sessions.

At first, M/N tried to rationalize it. He told himself it was fine to see Hannibal off, knowing he would return soon. But then those therapy sessions started blending into real life, with Hannibal spending more and more time trailing behind Will like a shadow. 

M/N knew it was over. He had been replaced. Hannibal's absence became more frequent, his excuses more transparent. Their relationship took a toll with both men unable to stand within the same room, their love replaced by a cold void. M/N felt a complex mix of emotions—pain, jealousy, and a deep sense of loss. He couldn't bring himself to hate Will. 

If he weren’t so hopelessly in love with Hannibal, M/N might have pursued the detective too—he was interesting and handsome, a combination so rarely found in one person. In another universe, under different circumstances, perhaps they could have been friends, or even more. But in this life, Will was the catalyst for his heartbreak, the new obsession that had stolen Hannibal’s affection. 

M/N and Hannibal had been avoiding the inevitable, so one day when M/N knew Hannibal would be busy, he packed his bags and took off. It was a hard decision but M/N knew it was the correct one. It wasn’t as if the murderer would miss him, the past weeks spent in solitude was enough to tell M/N he wasn’t needed. Perhaps Hannibal was already organizing a dinner party to celebrate his departure, aiming to introduce Will into his life. He had overstayed his welcome. 

The initial months were challenging; detoxing from Hannibal was painful. Everywhere he looked, M/N couldn’t help but think of the man. Hannibal’s presence was ever-permanent in M/N's life, an inescapable shadow haunting his every step. The familiar scents, the echoes of their conversations, the ghost of Hannibal’s touch—everything served as a cruel reminder of what he had lost. M/N found himself drifting through each day in a haze, battling the overwhelming urge to return, to feel that addictive rush once more. But he owed Hannibal at least that much, a chance to restart with the partner of his dreams. 

And when memories became too much to bear, M/N would depart once more. America, Britain, Ireland, Spain. Beautiful sights but it didn’t ease his emptiness. He’d even begun to bring partners to bed, hoping they’ll become his new addiction, but nothing. Perhaps this was M/N’s punishment: unable to move on and inevitably tied to Hannibal forever. Or perhaps this was fate. 

Fate. 

Such a funny thing—luck, destiny, karma, however you wanted to call it. Almost a year had passed since M/N left America when news reached him about the death of Will Graham. The incident was attributed to the Chesapeake Ripper, a detective who had been too close to uncovering the killer’s identity. The revelation left M/N shocked and unsettled. If it was Hannibal who disposed of Will and not a copycat, the question lingered: Why? What had driven Hannibal to eliminate someone he had once found so intriguing, someone whom he viewed as an equal? 

Rushing to his apartment, M/N locked the door behind him. If Hannibal had killed Will, what guaranteed M/N he wouldn’t kill him next? Panic surged through him as he leaned against the door, trying to catch his breath. His mind raced with thoughts of escape, but it was already too late. His nose wasn’t quick enough to detect the familiar scent of cologne before strong arms seized him and spun him around.

M/N froze, the blood draining from his face as he found himself face to face with Hannibal. But this wasn’t the man whom M/N remembered—his hair was longer and unstyled, falling into his eyes, and his clothing consisted of a simple black jacket and slacks rather than his usual three-piece suit.

"Hannibal." M/N managed to gasp, his voice trembling with a mix of fear and disbelief.

Hannibal's eyes bore into him. There was a wildness in his gaze, a hint of the unrestrained fury simmering beneath the surface. He looked like a man who had been through hell and emerged on the other side, more dangerous and unpredictable than ever. He still commanded attention, but now there was a dangerous demeanor he wore, as if he was on the verge of being Hannibal and whatever monster he’d tucked away.

“M/N.” Hannibal whispered back, his voice deceptively calm. “I didn’t think you would be so foolish as to run from me.” The back of his hand grazed his cheek when it harshly gripped his chin, forcing their eyes to lock. M/N couldn’t look away nor did he want to. Hannibal’s eyes were a tempest of emotions—anger, betrayal, hurt, but above all, love.

"I...I had to leave," M/N reasoned, his voice coming out steady despite the churning inside his stomach. “You know why.” All he received was a cold, hard glare from Hannibal. 

"Do I?" he said softly, his tone laced with a dangerous edge. "You left without a word, abandoning everything we had built together.” Hannibal took a step closer, his presence overwhelming. M/N could feel Hannibal’s warmth, and a part of him wanted to close the distance, but fear paralyzed him. "When you left, everything lost its meaning. Life became a dreary monotone."

“You made that choice.” M/N couldn’t help but hiss, not being able to contain his anger and sadness. “You paraded Will like some sort of prize, leaving me in the dust. How do you think I felt when the man I loved began to seek someone else?” Pushing Hannibal away, M/N remained standing, wanting to get everything off his shoulders. “You were the one who abandoned whatever we’ve built, not me.”

Hannibal’s expression softened. “I never meant to hurt you, M/N.” he said, his voice tinged with regret. “Will was a distraction, a fleeting curiosity. But you...you are irreplaceable.”

M/N scoffed at the man’s words. “It’s been a year, Hannibal. If I’m really irreplaceable as you claim, why didn’t you come sooner? You’re just now seeking me out after Will’s gone from the picture. Admit it, you want your play thing back.”

“You’re nothing of the sort, M/N.”

“Shut up!” M/N barked, his voice filled with desperation. “Just leave me alone, Hannibal. Go.” But his words fell on deaf ears. Cornered against the wall, M/N struggled as Hannibal grabbed his body and pressed a towel against the bottom of his face. Chloroform. 

M/N fought against the overwhelming dizziness that crept over him, his limbs growing heavy as the world began to blur. He could feel Hannibal’s fingers gently running through the back of his head, a gesture that was both tender and chilling. Hannibal spoke the final words M/N would hear before darkness enveloped him. “I’m sorry, but I can’t lose you again.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Late Bloomer 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, power dynamic, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Peter Parker, Steve Rogers (Professor AU)

Summary: you start your second year of university but as the workload grows more intense, you start to feel your age. (mid-30s reader)

Part of the Bad Professors AU

Note: Please leave some feedback and reblog <3 As always, I love to chat with you all. 

Your confidence starts to recover as you show up to your Art Studio class. It’s in the same room as last year and the familiarity makes you feel a little less lost. As it so happens, the professor is also the same as your first. 

Professor Rogers welcomes his class in as he did the year before. He explains that the brushes, paints, and materials in the ‘community garden’. The collection if for those in need and the need is never questioned. Students are encouraged to come take what they need and leave what they don’t. With the cost of materials, it’s a kind concept. You took advantage of it more often than you liked. 

You gently unzip your leather artist’s bag while he begins the lesson. As he reads over the expectations in the syllabus, your eyes meet. He smiles and continues. You still, reluctant to distract him. 

“Last year, you would have gone over 2D concepts and techniques. This year, we will delve into 3D. Every two weeks, you will submit a project. Lessons are Tuesdays in the current slot, but the studio will be open daily for three hours after seven. Whether you work here or in your own space, I expect all work to be on time. Extensions will not be given outside extenuating circumstance.” 

His voice is rigid but you know well he isn’t as strict as he pretends to be. It’s the first day, he has to make a show. Still, you never submitted anything past the due date. Not in this class. 

“I am aware of your other classes and I have not set unrealistic goals alongside those. However, for those who have joined as elective students, you might want to make note of the withdrawal deadline,” he girds. “Now that we’re past the fear mongering, we will start the session. We’re starting standard. Clay. First assignment, molding and shaping, then we will delve into pottery. Basic, you’ll get deeper into techniques if you are enrolled in the subject course itself.” 

His tendency to overexplain can overwhelm but you are reassured by your first year. Rogers wasn’t the worst but he had standards. Besides, this is what you’re here for. This isn’t an elective, this is your major. You like this stuff and that makes it a little easier. 

You delve into the first week. After going through some foundational work, Rogers lets the room fall silent. Most students will have a degree of experience from high school or freshman classes. You aren’t entirely lost yourself. 

Professor Rogers makes a round of the room, stopping to chat with each student. You sense him coming close and knead your clay without much purpose. He stops across from you, just on the other side of the table. 

“You’re back?” He says. 

“Wouldn’t you know, I need more than one course for this dang degree,” you kid. 

“Really? Jeez.” He scoffs as he presses his fingertips to the table, “so, how was your summer? Did you go to the beach?” 

Your eyes flick up to his. You remember last year he wasn’t so... casual? You don’t know how to explain it. His hair is a little less neat and he doesn’t sport his usual button-up. You always made note of his expensive shirts and that he didn’t seem to care about the paint stains. This year, he’s in an open canvas jacket and a plain tee. 

“Yeah, but it was overcast. Didn’t feel like mixing that much grey,” you answer. “What about you? Good summer?” 

He shrugs and smiles. Something about it is stiff, “it was a summer. Taught a few interim classes. Nothing special.” 

“Oh, well, summer is overrated.” 

“Is it? Don’t tell me you’re into all that pumpkin spice?” He sniffs. 

“I’m more into winter. I love snow and hot chocolate. Simple tastes.” 

“Very minimalistic,” he praises. “Well,” he taps the table and drags his hands off, “welcome back.” 

“Thank you, Professor.” 

You refocus on the clay as you consider the various objects up for grabs. You could recreate the broken porcelain figure. It reminds you of ancient Greek ruins. Or you could go simple and claim that large silver spoon. Your indecision has always been your greatest obstacle. 

“Alright, so, from here on, you have the rest of the time to work. You’re welcome to pack up and do it in your own time but I highly recommend staying,” Rogers announces to the room. “I am here for your benefit.” 

The class murmurs back at him. Most keep on what they’re doing while a few fidget and wait only ten minutes before they leave. You would have done the same ten years ago but this isn’t just a checkbox on a list. This is you trying to reshape your whole life. You’re done with waitressing. You’re here to learn, to make this into something real. 

Besides, your roommate is a fan of metal music and it doesn’t do well for your creativity. You don’t hate the music but it’s just not the vibe. You press your fingers into the clay and stare off across the room. Your eyes haze as you fall into thought. 

Cerise texted before you got there that she wanted to meet up after and Primrose gave a staunch thumbs up. You missed them too. You can’t wait to catch up. You can only say so much over texts. 

You smile as you think of them. Your little ragtag trio. Cerise, the youngest, who always manages to get lost wherever she goes and Primrose who only ever knows exactly where she needs to be and what needs to be done. You’re the oldest, the maternal light that keeps the younger from wandering too far and the other from overthinking her coffee order. 

Your vision clears as you sense movement. You blink as you find yourself staring at Professor Rogers. Oops. You give a sheepish smile and put your head down. As much care as you put into others, you often forget yourself. While everyone assumes you have it all figured out, and you would think that you would at your age, you are just another student muddling through to graduation day. 

[roxxie-wolf]

𝒩𝑒𝓌 𝒪𝓇𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓃𝓈 𝐿𝑜𝓋𝑒

Pairing: Human!Alastor x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your parents want you to marry someone of their choice, but you already have eyes on someone else. Will you follow what your parents think is best for you or will you go with what your heart desires.

Word count: 3.0k

Warnings: human!alastor x fem!reader, slow burn, this story may contain mature sexual content. Your in your late 20's, Alastor is in his early 30's, you still live with your parents idk. If I forgot anything else please let me know.

Note: Here’s chapter 11. I tried my best on this one. Enjoy.

MDNI

𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝟣𝟣

The sun's rays pierced through the curtains, casting a warm yet unwelcome light on the room. It was the day after the revelation of your arrangement with Brian, and the bed felt like the only sanctuary from the reality that awaited you. Tears welled up in your eyes as you stared blankly at the ceiling, a canvas for the storm of thoughts raging in your mind. You had held onto the belief that your parents understood you, that they would never force you into a life you didn't want. But that belief had shattered, leaving you to question everything you thought you knew about love and family.

In a week, you would be leaving the familiarity of your home, tasked with the heavy burden of packing up not just your belongings, but your entire life. The thought of stepping into a new house, a new life with a man you didn't love, was more than daunting—it was suffocating. And then there was Alastor, the one who had unknowingly captured your heart. *How could you face him? How could you utter the words that would inevitably build a wall between you?*

The decision weighed heavily on you, a burden you wasn't quite ready to share. You knew you had to tell Alastor, yet the thought of possibly never seeing him again after the confession was paralyzing. The fear of losing him was a stark contrast to the knowledge that he deserved the truth.

You rose from the bed, your movements automatic as you made your way to the bathroom. After brushing your teeth you removed your clothes and stepped into the shower, warm spray was a temporary refuge, a place where your thoughts could run as freely as the water. *How should I tell Alastor? Should I invite him over again and then tell him?* The questions circled endlessly, each one a reminder of the inevitable conversation that loomed ahead.

As you stood there, the water enveloping you, a plan began to form. You would invite Alastor over, create a space of warmth and familiarity, and then, with all the courage you could muster, you would tell him. It wouldn't be easy, but in your heart, you knew it was the right thing to do.

You finished showering, you got dressed and headed downstairs. You passed by your parents and headed out. The cool morning air was a refreshing change as you stepped outside, leaving the tension-filled atmosphere of your home behind. You wandered towards town, your eyes scanning the crowd for a glimpse of Alastor, but he was nowhere to be found.

Deciding to make the most of your day, you lost yourself in the rhythm of the town's life. The morning slipped into afternoon, and the streets buzzed with the energy of people going about their day. It was during this bustle that you spotted him—Alastor, moving swiftly through the crowd, a determined stride in his step.

Quickening your pace, you followed him, weaving through the throng until you were close enough to reach out and tap his bicep. "Hm, oh hello darling," Alastor's voice was a welcome sound, and you looked up at him as his glasses slipped down his nose slightly. He slowed his pace to match yours. "Hello Alastor, what are you doing around here?" your curiosity mingling with a tinge of anxiety.

Alastor's gaze met yours, a brief connection before he turned his attention forward, adjusting his glasses. "I’m actually heading back to work, my dear. Do you want to come with me?" His invitation was casual, yet it held an undercurrent of warmth.

You hesitated, your mind a whirlwind of emotions. The thought of revealing your impending arranged marriage loomed over you, a shadow threatening to darken the moment. Yet, walking beside him, looking up at Alastor, you realized that this could be an opportunity—a chance to spend time with him, to find the right moment to share your truth. With a nod, you accepted his offer, your heart whispering a hope that perhaps, in his company, you would find the strength to face what was to come.

———————————

The radio station stood before you, a beacon of Alastor's world, and as you two approached, you felt a flutter of excitement. "Come on darling," Alastor's voice was warm, his smile inviting as he held the door open for you. "Thank you," you murmured, stepping inside and taking in the surroundings with wide, curious eyes.

"Hello, welcome," the lady at the front desk greeted you two cheerfully. "Hello there," Alastor responded with a polite smile, and you found yourself smiling and waving back, caught up in the friendly atmosphere.

"This way," Alastor took your hand and lead you down a hallway. Arriving at a door crowned with an 'on the air' sign, and he ushered you in first. The room had all the equipment poised for the next broadcast, an empty table on one corner and two chairs waiting like silent audience members.

"So this is where you work," you turn to Alastor, who was already looking at you, his smile a mix of pride and joy. "Yes indeed," he lowered himself to your level and adjusted his glasses,a familiar gesture that spoke of his thoughtful nature. "Do you want to see me work?" He put his hands behind his back, his voice holding an offer of sharing a piece of his life with you.

The question hung in the air, a simple yet significant invitation. You nodded, eager to witness the man you cared for in his element, to see the passion with which he approached his work. It was a chance to understand him better, to connect with him on a deeper level, and perhaps, to find the right moment to share your own burdensome truth.

——————————

As Alastor's voice filled the room, a blend of warmth and professionalism, you found yourself lulled by the soothing cadence of his speech. Your eyelids grew heavy, his voice a gentle lullaby that threatened to coax you into slumber right there in the studio. With a start, you shook your head, rubbing your eyes to ward off sleep. You couldn't afford to drift off, not when there was so much left unsaid between you.

Throughout the broadcast, you watched him, admiration and affection blooming in your chest. The sight of Alastor, so engrossed in his work, so clearly in his element, sent a flutter of butterflies through your stomach. It was a happiness you longed to share, but the weight of your secret—a future bound to another—anchored your joy.

When the broadcast ended, and the 'on the air' sign dimmed, night had indeed fallen. Alastor stood, stretching slightly before making his way over to you. He leaned down, his hands resting on the backrest of your chair, his presence a comforting solidity in the quiet aftermath of his show.

The moment was intimate, the studio a bubble away from the world outside. It was now or never. With a deep breath, you steeled yourself to break the silence, to shatter the peace with the truth of your situation. The words were there, at the tip of your tongue, a confession that would change everything. Yet, as you looked up into Alastor's eyes, you found a silent question. *Were you ready to let go of this moment, of the possibility of what could be, for the stark reality that awaited you?*

Alastor's piercing gaze bore into your own, sending shivers down your spine. It was as if he could see right through you, uncovering every hidden thought and emotion buried within your soul. His intense scrutiny made you feel exposed, vulnerable, and yet strangely exhilarated.

As the silence stretched between you, broken only by the sound of your own heartbeat, Alastor finally spoke. "How did I do?" His voice was low and smooth, sending a shiver down your spine. You were caught off guard by his sudden question, struggling to find your voice.

"You did great," you managed to reply, offering him a small smile. His eyes flicked down to your lips and then back to meet your own, his face hovering just inches from yours. The air between you crackled with an undeniable tension, a palpable connection that seemed to draw you closer together.

"Alastor, I have to tell you something," your voice barely above a whisper. Alastor's eyes, filled with curiosity, urged you on. "Please do tell, dear."

You turned your gaze away, a futile attempt to hide the turmoil within. With a deep breath, you closed your eyes and let the truth spill out. "I’m in an arranged marriage, and I just found out yesterday." The words tumbled out in a rush, a confession that seemed to hang in the air.

Silence…

A thick blanket that seemed to muffle the world. When you finally dared to look at Alastor again, his eyes were fixed on you, intense and searching. "Well, how long do we have?" his voice steady.

"A week," you murmured, your eyes dropping to your lap, unable to bear the weight of his gaze. But Alastor was gentle yet insistent, his hand lifting your chin, compelling you to face him. "Let’s make the best of it, don’t you think, darling?" His words were not a question but a promise.

"I’m going to be married," you whispered, the reality of your words sinking like stones in the quiet room. Alastor cocked his head to the side, his expression unreadable for a moment. "Well, the way I see it, you’re not married to him yet. So that means you’re not yet taken," a hint of mischief in his tone.

You looked at him, puzzled and slightly taken aback. "Don’t you care that I’m going to be a married?" Your curiosity piqued by his nonchalant demeanor.

He shrugged his shoulders, a casual gesture that belied the depth of his feelings. "It's not that I don't care," he began, his voice low and earnest. "It's that I care too much dear. Right now, you're here with me, and that's all that matters. We can't change the past or predict the future, but we can live in the present. And in this present moment, you're not married, you're free, and you're with me darling. That's enough for now."

His words were a balm to your troubled heart, a reminder that despite the looming uncertainty, you still had the here and now. And for the next week, you would make every moment count.

With a darkening intensity in his eyes, Alastor glanced towards the closed door before returning his gaze to you. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest as Alastor's gaze lingered on your lips, a silent invitation hanging in the air. You understood all too well what he desired, but caution warred with desire within you.

"Alastor…” you began, your voice barely above a whisper. He looked at you, his eyes questioning. You took a deep breath, “I don't think now is the right time," you warned him softly, trying to resist the pull of his magnetic presence. Despite the heat rising between you, you knew that giving in to temptation could have far-reaching consequences.

But Alastor merely smiled, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "It's okay, darling. No one is coming in without knocking first," he reassured you, his voice a seductive whisper. And before you could protest further, he closed the distance between you, his lips brushing tantalizingly against yours.

The world seemed to stop as you kissed Alastor. His hands were gentle yet firm on your neck, deepening the kiss. You reached up, your hand finding his wrist as you stood from the chair. Alastor's back arched as he reached down, swiftly lifting you. You wrapped your legs around his slim waist, your fingers threading through his soft hair.

He carried you effortlessly, setting you down on the empty table. He stood between your legs, grabbing the back of your thighs pulling you closer to the edge of the table. The intensity of the moment was overwhelming, your heart pounding in your chest. You could feel his heartbeat matching yours, the rhythm a silent testament to the connection between you two. The world outside ceased to exist, it was just you and Alastor in this moment, lost in each other.

You entwined your legs around his waist, attempting to draw him nearer to you. His hands found their way to your hips, his body gracefully arched. Tilting your head back, you bared your neck to him, inviting his lips to traverse a path of moist kisses.

Alastor lifted your dress, revealing your thighs and panties. His hands gripped your hips as he kissed your neck. Your hands remained still on the table as he exposed your right shoulder, marking it with bites as he ground against your clothed core. A whimper escaped your lips as you felt him against you.

Alastor's lips met yours, prompting your hands to caress the back of his neck. Another whimper escaped you as he bucked his hips against yours. Your hands pulling at his hair elicited a groan from him. His hands went under your knees picking them up pulling you even closer to him. Your position shifted, reclining on your elbows as you gazed into his eyes, intense with desire. Breathing heavily, the air thick with anticipation.

He positioned himself above you, burying his face in the curve of your neck breathing in your scent. With your legs wrapped around his slender waist, you pushed him closer. Alastor's hands were placed on either side of your waist on the table as he traced kisses along your neck and collarbone. Just as he began to move against you, there was a soft knock at the door.

He paused, looking at the door and then at you. Disengaging, he assisted you off the table and you quickly straightened your attire. Alastor, fixing his glasses and approached the door, opening it to reveal the woman from the front desk standing there. "Yes?" His voice remained composed. "I was just checking if you were still around," the woman observed his tousled hair and then glanced past him at you. "Ah, it's time to depart. You go ahead; I'll lock up," Alastor smiled.

Alastor closed the door as the woman turned around to leave, his mind racing with thoughts of what could have happened if she hadn't interrupted. He turned back to you, his expression inscrutable as he walked back towards you.

"Let's get you out of here," his voice low and controlled. You nodded, feeling a rush of embarrassment and excitement at the illicit encounter that had just been cut short. Alastor helped you straighten out your dress, his touch strangely gentle despite the intensity of the moment that had just passed between you.

As you both made your way out of the secluded room and towards the exit, the air crackled with tension. Alastor's presence felt like a shield around you, his silent strength a reassuring presence in the face of the unknown. You couldn't help but steal glances at him as you walked, his tall frame moving with a fluid grace that stole your breath away.

Once outside, the cool night air hit you like a slap in the face, bringing you back to reality. Alastor's hand was warm in yours as you two made your way to his car. "Would you like me to take you home, darling?" his eyes meeting yours with a gentle concern.

You nodded, the gesture simple. He opened the passenger door for you, and you slid into the seat. He closed the door with a soft thud and walked around to the driver's side.

The engine came to life with a purr, the silence in the car was a canvas for your thoughts, each one painting a stroke of what had transpired back at the radio station with Alastor. Your heart raced, a tumultuous beat that seemed to echo in the quiet space between you.

"You alright, dear?" Alastor's voice sliced through your reverie, a gentle inquiry that brought you back to the present.

"Yes, everything is alright," your voice a calm veneer over the storm of your heartbeat. You turned to look at him, his profile illuminated by the passing streetlights. The night wrapped around you like a cloak, the stars above a silent audience to the unfolding story below.

————————

Alastor's car came to a gentle stop a short distance from your house, just as you had requested. "Thank you for the ride, Alastor," you turn to him with a smile that held a world of gratitude.

"It's my pleasure, my dear," his own smile a mirror of warmth and affection. Before you stepped out of the car, you leaned in and gave him a quick peck on the lips—a fleeting touch that spoke volumes.

As you made the short walk to your home, Alastor remained in the car, his gaze following you until you were safely inside. The reality of your impending marriage loomed over him, a shadow that was both a reminder and a challenge. Despite the initial denial, the feelings he harbored for you had taken root, growing stronger with each passing moment. And as he sat there, the quiet of the night around him, he acknowledged that these feelings were not just a passing fancy—they were there to stay.

The silence of the house seemed to amplify your thoughts as you ascended the stairs, bypassing your parents without a word. Anger still simmered within you, a bitter reminder of the marriage arranged without your consent, without regard for your feelings.

In the sanctuary of your room, you collected your clothes with mechanical movements, your mind elsewhere as you prepared for a shower. The water cascaded over you, but it did little to wash away the dread that clung to your skin—the dread of an unwanted future, of a life as someone's wife that you hadn't chosen.

Climbing into bed, the soft sheets provided little comfort against the harsh reality of your situation. The thought of marriage, of a domestic life bound to a man you didn't love, loomed over you like a dark cloud. It was daunting, a path laid out before you that you felt powerless to change. But you knew that no matter what the week held, the journey with Alastor, however brief it might be, was a chapter you would cherish forever.

🌸𝒫𝓇𝑒𝓋𝒾𝑜𝓊𝓈🌸 🌸𝒩𝑒𝓍𝓉🌸

Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list so you be updated every time. I do try to proofread but if I missed something please let me know.

Also I sometimes tend to make minor changes to the chapters.

Thank you! For reading I hope you enjoyed it.💖

TAGLIST: @magictoebean @little-slyvixen @bitchywitchygardener @diffidentphantom @catticora @cloverresin20 @phoenix666stuff @minamilinaqueen @kelakat @itsfeyahh

[wol-fica]

-ℙ𝕣𝕖𝕥𝕥𝕪 𝔾𝕚𝕣𝕝-

parings - jennaortega x fem!reader

summary - after a long day of hard work, you remind jenna of who she belongs to (r being extra simpish of j)

warnings - strap-on sex, oral, gagging, semi-public sex, possessive behavior, p in v, anal

an - greek, i love you so. Enjoy this masterpiece of a request

————————

Jenna was beautiful, a work of art really.

Whatever higher power that created her, you need to meet and thank them with the upmost respect; you owed them.

She was sculpted to perfection, like a Michelangelo composition that has only been unraveled by you. Her skin was gorgeous, a blank, tanned canvas waiting to be bitten and kissed upon by your lips, and only your lips.

Jenna was yours, your private display of modern art, like a lost Leonardo da Vinci portrait that is stowed away from the public eye. She was all for you; to love, to care for, to enjoy.

She was so easy to ogle at, to drool over. Her complexity was so alluring that you didn’t even care that the paparazzi and her fans have a frenzy over her every waking day; it didn’t matter when you got to witness every inch of her.

Jenna was currently at the Golden Globes, dressed in a nude, Gucci wrap-dress that showed off her defined abs and eye-catching curves. She looked divine, a wonderful Picasso painting that just screamed to be idolized and looked at; she was beautiful, she was yours.

You had stayed home, per her request to keep you out of the camera’s flashes and your anxiety within large crowds; it was better that way. You preferred to watch her on TV, it was a more private way to essentially ‘simp’ over your elusive girlfriend.

You have been dating Jenna for awhile now, almost two and a half years to be exact. The time spent with her was glorious for you, she was the light in your darkness, the smile that made you feel all giddy inside; she was perfect.

“She looks absolutely gorgeous, don’t you think?” The Golden Globes interviewer quipped as the cameras focused on Jenna’s entrance, “I don’t know how she always looks so amazing!”

“Because she is from another world” you would always say. In your mind, she was: she was most likely a fallen angel from heaven, though sometimes her attitude could be picked out of the depths of hell. Either way, she was incredible, and so so divine.

“Her work on Wednesday was wonderful!”

“She really went all out with that dance.”

“Jenna Ortega rose to popularity so quickly, how did she do it?!”

You wanted to yell, to scream at the top of your lungs from your apartment balcony that she was just so damn ethereal and flawless, but that would would wake your grumpy neighbor from two doors over and you do not want to get into an argument with him again.

You checked your watch, squinting to see that the time was 7:30 PM; Jenna would be home very soon, just in time for your surprise.

See, as much as you loved to innocently admire her, you also loved to do it sexually. One of the many few perks of dating her, is that only you get to enact those intimate moments that people only get to dream of doing with her. You had been gazing and getting silently turned on from seeing her on the carpet, her aura always does things to you.

Hence why you had gone out of your way to get the strap-on, wear it, and wait for her to return home so you could relax her in the best possible way; fucking all the stress out of her.

The lock on the front door clicked, causing your head to turn to your open bedroom entrance to wait and see if she would walk in. Jenna’s heels clicked on the hardwood, slowly getting louder as she approached your shared bedroom.

Soon she walked in view, finding your eyes in a few seconds and a small smile making its way onto her face in that time. She came forward, walking around to your side of the bed and greeting you with a gentle hug.

“Hello, my love.” You murmured, pulling back to give her a sweet kiss.

She had changed out of her Globes dress, now wearing an adidas hoodie and sweats set, yet she still looked flawless. One of the greatest things you enjoyed about Jenna, is that she looked beautiful in literally anything; from wearing a mouthwatering dress, to being in lounge clothes, she was gorgeous.

“Hi.” She said, a noticeable etch of tension in her voice.

“You okay?” You asked, already knowing she was going to talk about how tired and overworked she felt.

“I’m feeling a bit insipid, but other than that i’m great.” She stated, stepping in between your legs as you sat on the edge of the bed, “How’re you doing?”

“I’m alright; you looked lovely in that dress.”

Jenna giggled, music to the soul, and her eyes closed as her lips upturned into a smile. A faint blush coated her cheeks at your words, and she leaned in closer to you, resting her head below your chin.

“Thank you, i’m glad you liked it.”

“I was still a tad jealous other people got to see you in it, but woe is me.”

“Oh stop it!” Jenna scolded, pulling back to playfully glare at you, “You know I would never do anything to provoke your insecurities.”

You smirked, standing up and backing her into one of the large windows that decked out in your bedroom. Usually the blinds would be closed, but you wanted the moonlight to shine into your sleeping space and create a wonderful glowing look on your bed, hence why they were open.

“I’m not insecure.” You mumbled, your face pressing into Jenna’s neck as you left little kisses on her skin, “I know who I belong to.”

Jenna hummed, shivering under your touch as your hand slipped under her shirt and traveled up her stomach to feel her ribs. Her skin was soft and warm, buzzing under your fingertips as she got all hot and bothered.

Her hand trailed down, feeling the large strap under your pants. A small smirk came onto her face as she slowly fell to her knees, her hands going to untie your sweats.

“Who do I belong to? Can you tell me?” You asked softly, watching her pull the strap out.

“Me, you’re mine and that is that.” She responded quickly before opening her mouth and taking the toy in. Immediately she began to deep throat the strap, a noticeable bulge appearing in her throat.

You sighed, watching her work for a moment before grabbing the back of her head and thrusting the fake cock deeply into her throat. She gagged, tears appearing as you restricted her airflow.

“I belong to you, I know that.”

You took her by her hair and pulled her off, kissing her forehead as you helped her stand back up.

“Mine.” She murmured, kissing your lips with a passionate force.

“Is that so?”

Suddenly, you gripped her by the hips and turned her around, pressing her against the glass so she couldn’t move. Your hand ran over her clothed bottom, watching as her hot breath spanned out over the cold window.

“Jenna, I think I need to show you, who you below to.” You said, pulling at the hem of her shirt and slowly sliding it up her body.

“W-why’s that?” She questioned, her back arching slightly as you tossed her shirt aside.

“Well after seeing you prance around in that dress, I feel like you just need a little reminder.”

Your thumb slipped into her pants, pulling the sweats down as she lifted her legs to help you get them off of her. She had forgone undergarments and was now completely naked, awaiting your needed touch.

“Wait Y/N.” The small panic in her voice made you pause your own undressing, looking up to see her staring down to the street below, “Babe, what if people see us.”

You chuckled, returning to discard your pants and shirt while adjusting the strap around your waist. Once satisfied, you gripped Jenna by her hips and leaned over her, your mouth by her ear.

“Then they get a lovely show.” You whispered before pushing a few inches inside of her.

A guttural moan escaped from her throat, her head falling forward to rest against the cool surface of the window. Carefully, you worked yourself into her, eliciting small huffs and whines from the both of you. She was tight, very very tight, and the tension in her body was not making it easy for you.

“Oh, you are so stressed baby..” You cooed, pressing your lips to her exposed shoulder, “I’ll fuck all of that tension away.”

She nodded rapidly, sighing in satisfaction when you began to slowly pump into her. It would take a lot of effort for you to get all of the days workload out of her, but you had enough energy and Jenna was tough, you both could do it.

Your hips met hers at a moderate pace, thrusting back and forth as you gently stretched her out enough for her to actually be ready to be fucked properly. Her plush walls gave in, the muscles relaxing and complying with you as she finally was prepared.

“Such a pretty girl.” You hummed before speeding up your pace.

Jenna moaned, a proper sound that was meant to come from her vocal cords. Her body pressed back into yours, her hands pushing her chest back from the glass. You didn’t like that, and gently took her by the back of her neck and guided her to her previous position.

“Stay, I want people to see how well you get fucked.” You stated before continuing your assault on her pussy.

Your hips went forward and back, repeating the motion over and over again while your hand worked on her clit. You pressed and kneaded, attacking the bundle of nerves while Jenna moaned out your name; music to your ears. She was tightening now, her velvety cavern squeezing the strap as she neared her first orgasm of the night.

“Y/N!” She moaned out, her hands clenching as she came hard onto the toy.

You smiled, gently pumping in and out as she relaxed and calmed down. Your hand slid up to her hair, pulling it slightly as you filled her up again.

“You did so good, my love.” You said to her, your hips slowly speeding up again, “Let’s see how long you can last tonight.”

Jenna whimpered, tears coating her eyes as overstimulation washed over her. Her brain was betraying her; she wanted you out but at the same time, she wanted you farther in, deeper inside of her. Coherent thoughts were not proceeding correctly, all she knew is that you were fucking her good.

Her back arched as you pulled on her hair, creating a better angle for you to plunge deeper into her. The strap was a custom order that you and her designed, its length almost 9 inches and its girth relatively big. There were fake veins and bumps on it that made it the perfect toy for you both to enjoy, no matter who was wearing it.

“Honey..” You called out, pressing down harshly on the bulge in her stomach, which elicited a cry from her, “Can I do something special for you?”

She nodded, her head drooping and weak from all the pleasure you were giving her. Your hand left her hand and slid back down to her waist, cupping one of her cheeks. Your thumb slipped in between both, pulling one aside to reveal her tight hole.

You had both done anal all but twice, and both were very odd experiences. The first time was planned, she had suggested it when you two wanted to expand out of your vanilla phase. It was enjoyable, both for her and for you as she had insisted on taking turns of who would be wearing the strap that night.

The second time was on accident, a very funny experience. It was dark, and you two were attempting to get a quick fuck in your closet before your guests arrived for dinner. Jenna was squirming and impatient, which caused her to literally ‘miss’ and instead shove the strap into your ass. Don’t mistake her though, she went along with it almost immediately.

“Relax for me, daring.” You mumbled, pressing your thumb against her hole and pushing it inside.

She groaned, naturally pushing back against you as a known reflex. Her hips rocked left and right, slowly taking your digit inside of her. That’s how you taught her to do it, slow and steady was the safest and easiest option.

“Cum for me Jenna, I know you want to.” You said to her as she clenched down, her juices coating the strap at your request.

“Fuck…” She mumbled, her breathing heavy and hot, “That was-.”

Her sentence was cut off by the strap slowly pushing inside of her, not giving her a second to compose herself. Her hole was being stretched and opened for you to abuse and plow into, and the way her body seemed to reactively let you in told you that it was time to get rid of some of that unwanted stress.

“C’mere love.” You called to her, pulling her backwards with you until you were both sat on the edge of the bed.

The strap was now buried inside of her, hitting all the desired places. She was breathing in a familiar pace to calm herself, letting her body slowly relax into you. Your hands went around to her front, one going down to slip your fingers between her folds and the other reaching up to squeeze one of her nipples.

“Ride me Jenna, you know what to do.”

Carefully, her hips began to rock back and forth, creating a simple rhythm that she followed to please herself. On her forward rocks, you pushed your fingers deeper inside of her until they were knuckle deep, feeling her soft walls encapsulate them.

“Ohh god!” Jenna moaned loudly, now bouncing on your strap as a means to chase her third high.

“Damn you are so irresistible.” You murmured into her neck, now kneading her whole breast with your hand, “I love having you like this.”

She whined, clenching on your fingers as she rode her desires through. Your hips were now gently thrusting up into her, helping her feel more impaled on the fake phallus. Her voice cried out your name, her third orgasm hitting her hard as she squirted on your fingers.

“Atta girl.” You praised, kissing her sweaty shoulder while removing your fingers and popping them into your mouth, “You taste good.”

Jenna laughed weakly, twitching on top of you as a reminder to eventually remove yourself from her. You kissed her skin again before carefully standing up with her and slowly pulling out of her, mumbling praises as she whined in discomfort.

“You good?” You asked softly as she leaned her back against you, her legs shaky.

“Yeah, I’m great.” She replied, turning her head back and up so she could receive a kiss.

You hummed against her lips, a small smile on both of your faces while you held each other. You pulled back for a moment, gazing down at her face in wonder.

“I love you, Jenna Ortega.”

She snorted, rolling her eyes before kissing you again softly.

“I love you, Y/N.”

—————————

taglist:

@efectoangel @crystal-lily-101 @myfturn @aahdiieb @rainbow-love4ever @theafterofnevermore @k1mba @dreaming-of-u @i984 @thenextdawn @alexkolax @tundra1029 @littlegaybutterflysblog @sayaisrotten @fall-08 @simp4thena @deep-fried-egg

[straykidsnerd255]

Can you please do a Saint seiya hypnos x insomniac reader like the reader can't sleep no matter how hard they try they can't sleep, so hypos cuddles with the reader to help them sleep

Alright, I did the Lost Canvas Hypnos because that man is FINE! I will say, that Hypnos and Thanatos look way better in Lost Canvas than they do in the Classic version. But anyway, Here is your request and I am so sorry it came out so late! Its a little short but I hope you still like it!

Staring at the ceiling became a daily routine for you. You lay in bed, at 2:30 in the morning, and you couldn’t fall asleep. You haven't been able to sleep since you first laid your head down on the pillow that night. Groaning, you sat up and rubbed your eyes. You yawned, knowing you were tired, but your body and brain would not allow it. Standing from the bed, you shuffle into the living room to see your boyfriend, Hypnos, sitting on the couch, book in hand, and a mug of coffee on the table in front of him. 

Turning the page, he looked up and noticed you standing there. He marked his spot and closed his book before standing up from the couch and making his way over to you. He gently cupped your face in his hands and leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips before pulling away and looking directly into your eyes. “Why are you still awake my love? Don’t you have class tomorrow?” He asked. You wanted to cry. You really did. You hated that you couldn’t sleep and you knew that you had classes tomorrow. Tears filled your eyes and you were immediately pulled into Hypnos’s chest. His arms wrapped around you in a comforting but gentle way. 

“What’s wrong?” He whispered, petting your hair as you sobbed into his chest. When you had calmed down, you lifted your head and looked up at him. “My stupid insomnia is acting up and I can’t sleep. I haven’t been able to sleep for the past three days and it's starting to catch up to me.” You said, watching your boyfriend's eyebrows furrow before his face dropped to a pout. “How about I come and lay with you in bed? Cuddle you til you are asleep. Will that help?” He asked, watching and gauging your reaction. You look at your boyfriend with wide eyes before a smile appears on your face. 

“You mean it?”

“Of course I mean it. Now, let's go get comfortable on the bed and get you the sleep you need.”

After getting comfortable, you curled into his chest and closed your eyes. Your body starting to melt into sleep. Hypnos lay on his side, his arms wrapped tightly around you, he pressed a kiss to your forehead before pulling you closer to him. He kept his eyes on you throughout the night, closing his eyes when he needed to, but wanting to make sure you got the most sleep you could. Watching how you instantly fall asleep pressed close to him, he made it his goal to make sure he is around when you want to take a nap, or at night when you need to sleep. He will be your pillow if that's what it takes to get you the full amount of sleep.

[undertale-anomaly20]

Mortal Kombat 1 x reader: Prolouge

The screen shows a dark void where sand drops through the neck of an hourglass into a heaped pile. the camera focuses on a single slow-falling grain of sand that bursts into a cosmic light. The light pulses and myriad galaxy clusters resolve in an abyss. the camera passes the many galaxies to focus on one galaxy as it spirals radiantly in the dark.

"Having liberated the Hourglass and become Keeper of Time, my next task was to restart history" Liu Kang's voice echoed out as the camera dove into the Galaxy through its clouds, to the asteroid belt around its solar system, and past a planet or molten rock "Not beholden to past events, I was free to craft a new era. It was with humility and restraint that I approached this blank canvas. After careful preparation, I began work. Painting over the darkness"

The black screen soon had multiple small bursts of light across the screen, then stars as it slowly descended onto the earth's atmosphere horizon where the sun shone in the center of the horizon "After eons passed, I sketched out the realms. After eons more, I brushed them in with life"

the camera soon zooms in on the earth revealing the clouds "In my new era, all beings will have the opportunity to find peace. Whether or not they do, will be their responsibility. For my power only permits me to begin this endeavor. It is the duty of mortals to finish it" The camera flies through the clouds, past them to the landscape below through the mountains to an open land where a lake lays with a statue of two dragons intertwined in the center in the distance. the title appears on the screen

Mortal Kombat 1

The screen fades into black.

The scene opens on a dreary, rainy day as (Name) stands in her empty bedroom packing the last of her belongings. Five years ago, in this world at least, she had been an eager, optimistic young woman. But the events of her last involvement in the Mortal Kombat universe had taken their toll on her and now she was a bitter, stubborn, and hostile woman who had seen far too much. With no family left in the world, (Name) decided to move away and put the past behind her.

As the rain continued to pour outside (Name) packed away her possessions, lost in thought. Her mind was filled with the memories of her life before, both the good and the bad. She had loved and been loved by her friends, by her loves and her daughter, laughed and cried with them through the victories and the loss, and seen dreams come true. But she had also seen heartache and sorrow, The death of Mileena cracked her heart, and the death of Hanzo fractured her soul but her daughter, Calithea, dying in her arms was what truly broke her. The image of her turning to sand in her hands is something she can never forget and never forgive. Logically, in the back of her mind, she knew Liu Kang had to do it but that was snuffed out instantly as she remembered how she begged and pleaded with him to stop but he didn't even look at her nor did he even hesitate to continue. She could never forgive him for what he had done. She couldn't even grieve properly, She couldn't just go to a therapist or vent to anyone because in her world it never happened, and if she did she would have been called insane and thrown in an asylum. The best she could do was go to a doctor for anti-depressants which barely did anything.

Having no person to unburden her emotions too, (Name) was left to suffer such tragedy all on her own. Even though she was sent back to her world she still carried that same pain with her. Everywhere she went, she could still hear Calithea's cries for her.

(Name) sighed as she placed the last photo frame in her box before taping it up. Even though when she was sent back to her world she went from being 28 to 20 years old the same age as when she left. She was now 24 with a 30-year-old mind. She stands back up looking around to see if she missed anything giving the viewer a good look at her.

She had long (hair colour) hair at tailbone length tied into a bun, a white singlet that hugged her curves, an orange oversized flannel, blue denim jeans, brown lace-up combat boots, and a brown hobo crossbody bag containing her Phone, its charger, her wallet, some gum, wireless earbuds, and her anti-depressants that she received from her doctor.

Physically she didn't look that much different from her 20-year-old self apart from the dull look in her eyes and the neutral expression she wears permanently. many of her old neighbors worried for her since she used to be so bright and cheerful and wondered what changed her into the woman she is now.

She sighs putting the box to the side and looking at how empty the room is. Over the 4 years, she had gotten rid of anything that reminded her of the world she once lived in and avoided anything Mortal Kombat-related. She sighs as she picks up her bag and pulls out her phone, checking the weather, to see if the rain won't be letting up. She looked so tired as she glanced at the window realising the rain wouldn't stop till tomorrow. Everything she owned was sent to her new apartment apart from a few things leaving only her wide-flat screen TV, her PS5 plugged in, a Collectors edition box, The art book for the game, and one unopened game out with a note on it. Though she hated the Mortal Kombat franchise the company sent her a test game of the latest one.

Mortal Kombat 1

"Fucking idiots" She grumbled walking over to the unopened game picking it up, with a scowl, and reading the note. It was a small printed note new Roman times print.

Dear (Name),

We are writing to thank you for agreeing to be part of our Beta Testing team for our upcoming game! We are looking forward to your help in making sure that the game is as perfect and entertaining as possible for our players.

We are sending you the only existing copy of the game for you to play through and report any glitches or bugs you may find. We understand that it is only a beta build of the game and that there will probably be some issues, and we greatly appreciate you taking the time to report any issues you may find.

Once again, thank you for being part of the Beta Testing process and helping us make the game as good as it can be. We look forward to seeing your feedback.

Sincerely, WB games

She sighed agitated "I only agreed to do it because I needed the money," She said as she sat on the floor she opened the case and took out the disk. She slipped it into the PS5 slot picked up the remote and turned the TV on "Let's get this over with" she muttered as she set it up to download the game. While she waited she picked up the art book for the game, That they sent to her exclusively, looked through the concepts of the game, and looked at the different locations. after about 2 and a half hours she watched the title screen roll in "Finally" She said closing the book and picking up the controller ready to play.

2 hours later

"WHAT THE FUCK DID HE DO TO THE TIMELINE!?"

(Name) looked at the game in shock. She had started with the tower stories rather than the actual story mode. So far she got the gist of some things.

Kuai Liang was a scorpion and was going to marry Harumi, Hanzo was a 15-year-old boy, Sindel was going to die, Lie mei was a kombatant again, Shao Kahn was alive, Mileena and Kitana were twins, Tanya and Mileena in a secret relationship? (Name) groaned pinching the bridge of her nose and closing her eyes in frustration "Jesus Christ Liu Kang...making the timeline a reboot" She said before dropping her hand from her nose as she looked up at the roster for the next ladder. It didn't hurt her that Mileena was with Tanya if anything She felt slightly happy that her former love found her happiness. Her eyes soften "Well done, Beautiful" She whispered.

"Alright. Who's next?" She says as she flits around the screen when she finally lands on Geras selects his character and uses Sub-Zero as the cameo. His first opponent is Kitana and Scorpion. (Name) waits for the signal to fight when the intros are finished the words fight appear on the screen. She goes to move Geras but nothing happens "...What the..." She mumbles and fiddles with the controller. The strange thing is Kitana isn't moving either just standing there. (Name) grows frustrated "Come on Gera! move!" She shouts as thunder sounds off outside the window causing a flash of light across the dark room...When Geras moves.

Facing her.

(Name) is confused seeing him fully face her, as Kitana disappears, and the camera places him at the center of the screen. He places his hands behind his back "My apologies, Lady (Name), for interrupting your work" He states. (Name)'s jaw drops "How is this..." She muttered unaware of the sand slowly sifting across the floor behind her "We do not have much time. I am sorry for this, My Lady" He said looking ashamed confusing (Name) further "What are you-?!" She is interrupted by the sand behind her whipping around her room like a storm causing her to cross her arms over to cover her eyes as her braids flay erratically around in the storm as does her bag and flannel. The camera moves to her feet as they turn to sand and quickly moves up her body soon covering her. The sand formed a tornado around her before the top of it darted towards the TV pulling her in along with it.

Once the storm subsided all that was left behind was some sand on the ground before the screen faded to black

"Forgive me, My Lady...But this universe needs you now more than ever"

The scene changes to the sun that had yet to come up over the horizon, giving the landscape an eerie and missed hue. The sky was still painted various shades of navy blue and silver, fading out into the darkness of night underneath the stars. The air was still and silent as the village of Fengjian lay – untouched by any sound – just the idyllic meadows, the few tall trees, and the distant rolling hills.

(Name) was lying unconscious on the ground, on her back, with her bag around her. She stirred awake as the sunlight hit her closed eyes, making them flutter open. She briefly opens them before squeezing them shut and slowly sitting up holding her head with one hand while using the other to prop herself up groaning in pain "Ooooh...my head..." She said trying to open her eyes. Once she does she quickly takes notice of where she is. She looks around the vast land where she sees nearly nothing but rolling hills and flat fields for farming. She sees buildings in the distance and notices some of them look familiar "...no..." She mutters as she staggers to her feet and stumbles forward a bit recognising the biggest building.

The Fengjian teahouse.

Her eyes go from shocked to angry in a matter of seconds, her teeth gritted "You've got to be FUCKING KIDDING ME!" She yelled in anger. She couldn't believe that she was back in the same universe that had caused her so much pain. The tears started to flow, and she felt her chest constrict with emotion. She had been through this universe before, and the memories of the pain it had caused her came flooding back in a wave of agony. She felt so powerless, so helpless, and her anger grew with each passing second.

She couldn't believe she had been brought back here. It was like a cruel joke, a punishment for something she hadn't even done. She wanted to lash out, to fight back, to do something to make it all go away, but there was nothing she could do. She slowly started to calm down and wipe her tears.

"My goodness. Why are you crying, Young lady?"

(Name) turned her head to face who spoke to her. There stood an old woman wearing a slightly dulled pink and purple long-sleeved qipao dress, with embroidered sleeves, a purple sash around her waist, brown pants underneath, white sneakers, and a cigarette packet sticking up out of the sash a bit. her face showed many wrinkles indicating her age was somewhere in the 70s or even 80s, her hair grey pulled back into a neat and flower-like bun held together with a blue flower hairpin and a kind smile.

Understanding that the woman who stood beside her was the character Madam Bo was a shock and it truly showed "Well?" Madam Bo asked "I...I um...I'm sorry..."(Name) said looking down ashamed "I'm just lost, ma'am, I've-" "I can see that. Not many people walk around dressed like that unless they're from out of the country" Madam Bo interrupted gesturing to (Name)'s clothes and making her look down with a frown "You new or something?" (Name) looked at Madam Bo "Something like that" She replied bending down and picking up her bag to sling it across her body. She dug through it and checked her phone to see if it was working still, thankfully it still worked causing a sigh of relief to escape her. She turned to Madam Bo "Thank you for checking on me but I better get going...I need to find a way to..." (Name) trailed off shaking her head before beginning to walk away.

"I would expect nothing less from you, Viper"

(Name) stopped in her tracks before slowly looking back at, the now smirking, Madam Bo ".....How do you know that name?" She whispered. Madam Bo simply chuckled and walked past her smiling after walking a few feet ahead she turned back to (Name) "Well? follow and find out" She said and continued walking having (Name) quickly stumble to catch up to her.

The scene changes to Madam Bo and (Name) sitting at a table in the teahouse with two cups of hot tea and a large book on the table while her bag hangs on the back of the chair. The Tea House is Fengjian's heart and soul. Villagers gather here to relax, gossip, and enjoy Madam Bo's homestyle cookery. Whether you're starting your day, or winding down at night, the Tea House has a special blend made just for you. (Name) takes the cup of tea thanking Madam Bo "You called me Viper. How exactly do you know that name? Or how you know that name belonged to me?" She asked. Madam Bo smiled "Looks like you don't even know who YOU are, my dear" She replied as she opened the large book to a marked page before sliding across the table to (Name).  The old thick book was a large, rectangular object, bound in brown leather. Its pages were yellowed with age, and some were starting to come loose. The edges of the pages were worn from the thousands of times they had been read and consulted. Its spine was creased, as if its old, leather cover had been opened and closed countless times. Splashed across its exterior was a maroon pattern, which only added to its aged look. If one were to look closely, one would notice small imperfections, like dented corners, which further attested to its years of use. She looked down at the book in confusion then shock.

The book depicted her as some kind of legend. It described her to be a fierce warrior of truth and justice who would use her flames to snuff out those who would harm others for their selfish gain but would shelter those who were in need. The legend for her was that she disappeared one day never to be seen again. On the left side of the book were two paintings of her. In one of them, her hair was pulled back into a braid with a gold ribbon running through it, an orange-colored tunic underneath a gold breast/torso plate, gold wrist guards, burgundy long pants, brown boots with gold thigh guards, one-hand raised holding a ball of fire, looking at it with anger, while the other leaning on a large sword. The other one right was of her wearing an off-shoulder orange crop bra with a gold band under the bust holding an amber gem in its center, her long skirt ombres from orange to cream with deep orange clothes wrapped around her hips similar to ancient Egyptians, gold armlets and wrist guards with a silk cream colored material on both arms connected, a gold intricate collar and a light orange lily tucked behind her ear. Her long (hair colour) hair is loose and reaching the floor as she holds a ball of embers in one raised hand smiling softly at it.

(Name) was in shock and confusion at the picture and looks back at Madam Bo, who gives her a knowing smile, confused even more "I...I don't understand...how am I a part of this..." She held her tongue from saying timeline making Madem Bo believe she was at a loss for words causing her to chuckle "Your legacy has been around since before the time of the great Kung Lao, my dear, crafted into the very walls of shaolin minds and history. The name everyone hears when they see this image? Viper" She says lighting a cigarette "This doesn't make sense though. I'm not Viper...not anymore" (Name) says sadly looking away. Madam Bo looked at her for a few moments and inhaled her cigarette before exhaling "Well then...If you're not Viper anymore what do I call you?" She asked "(Name)...just (Name)" (Name) replied looking back up at her "Alright (Name). I am Madam Bo" "It's a pleasure to meet you, Madam Bo...you said the shaolin know about me?"

Madame Bo nods "Indeed as do a few other cultures. Not sure how many exactly but a few at least. Each one depicts you differently but always with the same face" "Wow" Madam Bo smirks "We have a lot to talk about, My dear"

The scene changes to the morning light streaming into an old dusty room and the dust particles glowed in the air like fireflies. It was the bedroom of an old teahouse, and the furniture was a testament to the rural Chinese designs of the past.

In the corner of the room, there was a wooden bed that was almost a century old. It was made with a dark lacquered finish. The headboard of the bed was a simple design with little child drawings carved into it. On the bed was a quilt made of cotton, and it was the color of sand.

On the opposite wall of the bed was a wooden armoire. The armoire was painted in a bright red color, and its doors were adorned with intricate designs of cranes and bamboo. Inside the armoire were several shelves and drawers, filled with clothing and other items.

In the center of the room was a black lacquered table. The table was of a unique design, its legs were curved elegantly, and its surface was painted with a pattern of white and gold. On the table was a vase filled with fresh flowers, and several teacups filled with tea.

On the wall opposite the table was a large mirror. The frame of the mirror was made of dark lacquered wood, and it was intricately carved with scenes of nature. There were several shelves beneath the mirror, and on them were several items of clothing and other decorations.

On the wall next to the armoire was a painting of a rural Chinese landscape. The painting was done in a traditional style, and it depicted a tranquil scene. The colors were vibrant, and the detail was exquisite.

The room was filled with many other items, all of which were made in the old rural Chinese style. There were several lamps, which were made of brass and glass, and they cast a soft glow throughout the room. There were also several wooden chairs, and they were covered in embroidered cushions.

The walls of the bedroom were adorned with many paintings and tapestries. The paintings depicted scenes of rural Chinese life, and the tapestries were of the same style. The colors were bright and vivid, and they were a reminder of the old days.

The room was filled with a sense of nostalgia, and it was easy to imagine the people who used to occupy this room. The furniture was worn, but still beautiful, and it was a testament to the skill of the people who crafted it. The room was a reminder of the beauty of rural China, and it was a place of peace and tranquility. Madam Bo and (Name) stepped into the room "This is where you will be staying, my dear, it's been many years since someone has occupied this room" She said as she began to walk out "Thank you, Madam Bo" (Name) said smiling softly and placing her bag on the dusty bed.

(Name) is left with her thoughts as she sits on the bed. She looks down at her hands going through her memories as to how this had happened "Geras....why did you bring me into this?" She whispered to herself.

The scene changes to what seems to be a few days later (Name) isn't one to talk to anyone. where she had once been someone happy to talk to anyone now she preferred the solitude and quiet of her loneliness. It wasn't that she couldn't talk to anyone it was that she didn't want to get attached to anyone only to lose them. No smile was ever present on her face and if there was one it was out of politeness. Never out of joy. 

As she strolled through the teahouse, the smell of nutmeg, pepper, and cinnamon aromas filled the air. (Name)'s ears perked up as she heard the faint sound of a raised voice - it was coming from the kitchen. She stopped and listened more closely, attempting to understand just what was driving the commotion.

(Name) ducked her head around the corner and spotted two flustered cooks, one of them with their hair all askew and their faces flush. It didn't take a genius to figure out what was happening. The stove, close to the center of the kitchen, had gone kaput and wouldn't light up.

The first of the two cooks was a slim man with jet-black hair that hung over his forehead. He had sharp, almond-shaped eyes that sparkled with a spark of creativity, and a slightly crooked nose that hinted at an interesting backstory. He was dressed in a crisp, spotless white chef’s coat with black buttons, dark trousers, and spotless safety shoes. To complete the ensemble, he had a white cook’s apron around his waist.

The second cook was a bigger man, but he was also tall and muscularly built. He had a rounder face, and his head was shaved close. He wore an identical chef’s coat to the first cook, but his trousers had thick white stripes down the sides. To finish his uniform, he wore a pair of heavy-looking black boots. 

The large stove, in question, looks aged and impressive, standing at about the same height as a person and spanning six square feet in width and length. Its upper surface is covered in ornate blue embossed tile framed in black metal which gives it a unique appearance. Its sides are decorated with intricate designs, from swirling dragons to blooming lotus flowers, all highlighted with small bits of colorful ceramic.

The stove has two large central openings accessible from both sides and two smaller ones at the back. They are each covered by elaborately designed metal covers. The edges of the stove are made of sturdy iron and each one is detailed with beautiful etchings along each side. There are two large trays located at the front and back of the stove and within each tray are individual removable metal bowls which are used to cook a variety of dishes.

The stove is powered by a large wood or charcoal-filled fire bowl housed underneath. The fire is controlled by two large handles located on either side of the stove. Also underneath, two metal racks act as shelves, helping to contain the heat during cooking.

(Name) stepped closer but hesitated questioning herself if was she overstepping her boundaries or being too intrusive. But she quickly squashed these thoughts, opting to help instead. She cleared her throat and made her presence known "Hey...Is there anything I can do to help?" She asked a bit nervous.

The two cooks broke off from their quarrel and looked at (Name) with surprise. They were hesitant until one of them sighed "How much do you know about old stoves?" He asked "A bit not much but it can't hurt to look," she said as she removed her flannel and knelt by the stove, taking a moment to survey the problem before opening it up. She saw immediately the issue "Well there's your problem! When was the last time you guys cleaned this thing?" She asked, her voice reverberating in the stove "There's a build-up of thick soot within the innards I'm pretty sure that's what's preventing the flint from sparking up" 

For what felt like an eternity, (Name) sank her hands deeply into the stove, searching blindly for the hard-to-find components. She was passed a variety of tools by the cooks, their faces increasingly worried as the minutes trundled by. (Name) worked diligently, her arms aching from digging deep within the machines' innards, her fingertips sore from her search.

Finally, after pushing herself to the brink, (Name) pulled her hand from the stove with a satisfaction- she had done it. Using the tools provided, she had successfully cleaned out the soot and ash build-up and, as if by magic, the flint sparked to life, returning the stove to its full glory. The kitchen staff erupted into cheers, high-fiving her in congratulations. (Name) watched as they celebrated, feeling her heart swell with pride.

The scene changed to the back of the teahouse a month later. There lay a small garden that was a sight to behold. , a collection of lush green vegetation could be found, surrounded by a simple wooden fence. Sitting at the back of the teahouse, the garden was only just in the process of becoming something more than an outlet for (Name).

(Name) had become responsible for the garden's well-being since some of the servers told her about the abandonment it received. Though reserved and unsociable due to her wishes not to get close to anyone, (Name)'s passion for the garden was evident in her approach, and her gentle demeanor often allowed her to be just the right amount of charming with a subtle hint of authority if needed.

(Name) would start her work late in the morning when the sun rose high into the sky, welcoming the day's mild heat. She could be spotted in the garden, trowel in hand, planting various fruits, berries, vegetables, herbs, and spices into the soft dirt. The summer breeze carried the hint of lavender and basil past her nose, making it difficult to retain focus. With the air full of the aroma of soil, (Name)'s dedication to the task at hand was unwavering.

The garden was a place of respite for her from the crowds and gave her the ability to avoid anyone who was involved directly with the Mortal Kombat events yet to come. With the garden rows neatly arranged from one end to the other, it was a sight to take in. The fruit bushes were lined up at the northern corner of the garden and stretched up to the edges side by side, branded with the same rust-colored wooden stakes that marked the entirety of the garden. The vegetables, such as pumpkins, beans, and squash, were placed together along the western side, each one accompanied by its sturdy trellis crafted from wood and metallic wire. The southern section bowed out inwards as the herbs and spices were planted in several mounds along the ground, creating an inviting pathway for anyone ready to explore the area.

The amount of money she spent on buying the already sprouted plants that would grow into fruits and vegetables to speed up the process of gaining fresh produce had left her in debt with Madam Bo even more due to the fact that she hadn't had any money when she arrived. She felt guilty borrowing the money from her but swore she'd pay everything back to her.

Though it didn't look like much, the garden was a beloved part of her life in the village. (Name) enjoyed no words of praise nor monetary reward, but the small glimmer in her eyes when she gave anything produced to Madam Bo to use was all that was needed to be told how fulfilled she felt when she grew her produce.

Tucked away at the back of the teahouse, the small garden was the perfect place to while away the afternoon on a sunny day. The warmth of the sun shining high above was inviting and refreshing. Surrounded by a fence of simple timber, this little sanctuary remained hidden from prying eyes. Here, (Name)'s passion for her work was showcased and appreciated, and it was here that the plants of this proud oasis were brought to life.

The scene changes to the outside of the teahouse at the back away from the garden. grunting is heard from around the corner where (Name) is striking a thick wooden post sticking out of the ground with her fists, which are wrapped up in bandages, and her feet. Her flannel is hung over a fence nearby as she hits the post over and over and over again. Her focus is solely on the post as she hits it ignoring any soreness or sting in her hands. Despite not being able to train for years she never forgot how to fight. Not after her training with the SF, not after her training with Mileena nor after her training with the Shirai ryu. Those memories she could look back on with fondness.

It had been nearly a month since she arrived back in this universe, where she trained in secret where the training post was, it wasn’t until now, as she stood at the back of the teahouse and unleashed her ferocious strikes and kicks against a thick wooden post, that she truly felt alive and in control. Her feet twisted and spun as she moved around the post, her arms jabbing and blocking as she switched between techniques. The air seemed to crackle with electricity as she attacked the post over and over again, a fierceness in her movements that belied her age.

It was different from her training from years ago for sure. In the months she's been here she hadn't been able to conjure a single flame not even a spark. Her fire abilities seem to have disappeared. Once again she had lost another part of herself that she had hoped to find returning to this world as a small consolation. As disappointing as it was to lose them maybe it was for the best. She felt a little less troubled by the fact that maybe she could hide away from whatever Mortal Kombat tournament would take place and maybe then avoid whatever Geras brought her here for.

For minutes that seemed like hours, (Name) repeated her strikes and kicks until her body ached and her breathing became labored. But she pushed on, leaning into each strike and kick, her mind repeating her movements as if she were in a trance. The post creaked and groaned as it withstood her assault, but still, it did not give way. Memories flooded her mind with every strike.

Her first encounter with Raiden and Liu Kang Strike Meeting Scorpion Strike Fighting Shang Tsung Strike Meeting Mileena Strike Her first kiss with Tomas strike Falling for Mileena Strike Losing her Strike Finding Calithea Strike Losing Hanzo Strike LoSiNg CaLiThEa! STRIKE

Suddenly, a force much greater than anything she had previously exerted seemed to pass through her body. She stepped back and released a loud cry, her spinning heel kick connecting squarely with the post. The wood split in half, both pieces tumbling to the ground.

(Name) stood back, panting for breath, yet feeling strangely triumphant. She took a few paces back, her eyes fixed on the broken post then she looked down at her hands, her knuckles red, bleeding a bit, and bruised up, with a nod as she clenched them "Still got it" She said before wiping the sweat off her brow then walking to the fence to grab her flannel.

Unknown to her that watching from the top balcony of the teahouse was Madam Bo. She was smiling with a knowing glimmer in her eyes "And she says she's not Viper anymore" She said laughing to herself before walking back into the teahouse to write a letter to a certain god that there was another candidate for him.

The scene changes to the balcony of the teahouse where (Name) sits alone on the railing and looks up at the moon. She thought of all the promises she made to herself that she never kept. Tears began filling her eyes as the realization that she still hadn't gotten over what Liu Kang did to her nor was she over the fact that no one would know her as she was instead they would see a legendary hero...not the friend who stood by their side.

(Name) raised her spirited drink to her lips and took a sip. The warmth of the liquid felt comforting and she found comfort in the taste. She closed her eyes and let the wind dance around her flushed face. She had been drinking for an hour by now and borderline was drunk at this point but still maintained her balance on the railing.

"Geras...Why did you have to bring me back?"

She opened her eyes slowly staring up at the moon, her eyes melancholic and dulled, as she let the alcohol in her system cloud her mind and speak without a filter.

"You couldn't have let me be, huh? Y-you-you-you think that what? Just because I came to the last two times to help that I'm some kind of go-too for fixing his problems? News flash, Geras, I'm not!" Tears began streaming down her flushed cheeks, in frustration, as her eyes reddened and anger shone through "I'm not some toy you get to pick up and play with and then discard when you're bored! I'm alive, I think, I feel, I have a heart that beats and eyes that can see this world for what it is! A joke and an absolute joke! The story will end exactly the same as it did with the other ones! so why take me away? Why bring me back into this shit when everything stays the way it was written! Everyone got a happy ending except for me! What the fuck is that about!?"

She drops her head low for a few moments before looking back up in pain and sorrow with the look of defeat in her eyes "I've already lost...so much, Geras,...the woman I loved, The man I loved...for fuck sake my own daughter...Haven't I given enough? Haven't I suffered enough by now for you to just leave me alone?" The moon gives no reply as (Name) openly sobs into her hands, her body shaking with each sob. She allows her drunken grief to consume her as she cries unaware of the eyes watching her, from beyond the stars, with regret and remorse dancing in them. The screen fades to black with (Name)'s sobbing slowly fading.

"I am sorry, My Lady, but this is needed for this world...and for you"

The scene opens to 2 months afterward with the sun shining down on (Name) and Madam Bo as they stand out the front of the teahouse. (Name)'s clothes have changed to a white peasant blouse with sleeves to the elbows, a long ankle-length green skirt, brown flats with crossover straps, her hobo crossbody bag with her clothes, and a white wide-brim sunhat with a black ribbon around it. Her hair was in braids again but longer above her mid-thigh. The travel cart was making the last calls for departure.

"You sure you can't stay a little longer, Dear?" Madam Bo asked with a sad frown on her face as she straightened up (Name)'s shirt "Ma, I'm fine really. I promise I'll write to you every week to let you know how I'm doing" (Name) said trying to assure Madam Bo. She had started Calling Madam Bo 'Ma' around a month ago and it just stuck. Madam Bo sighed as she let her hands drop to her side and looked (Name) in the eye "You'd better. I can't have you disappearing on me" "I'll be ok, Ma, I'll come back in 3 months I swear. I just want to travel for a bit and make something of myself I don't want the name 'Viper' being the only thing that defines me" (Name) replied "I know. It was nice having you here but even I know I can't keep you here forever" Madam Bo said before hugging (Name) "Make sure you come back in 3 months on the dot" (Name) nodded "I promise, Ma, I promise!"

"Last call for departure!" The cart driver called out causing Madam Bo to let go and (Name) to quickly dash off to the cart. after a few steps, she bumped into someone causing the hat to fly off and onto the ground"Oh! I'm so sorry! Here let me get...that" The person said gently picking up the hat "No it's my fault really" (Name) said taking the hat from the man. His brown eyes meet hers as he looks at her from underneath his Chinese coolie hat not used to seeing a new face in Fengjian. (Name) quickly turns to the cart and hops onto it "BYE MA!" She called out as it drove off down the road leaving the man to watch her as she fades off into the distance while Madam Bo waves goodbye to her 'daughter' "You're here early today. Aren't you, Raiden?" Madam Bo asked not taking her eyes off the cart "I wanted to come here for once without having to foot the bill for Kung Lao," He said laughing.

The scene changes to a village bathed in moonlight. (Name) had been wandering for what felt like an eternity, even though it had only been a few days. She had turned off the main road in favor of taking the scenic route, winding her way through the villages and hamlets that dotted the countryside. This late in-the-evening air was cool and still, with nothing but the faint buzz of cicadas and distant birdsong to break the silence.

(Name) slowly made her way through the village, the full moon lighting her path as she walked. She saw as the buildings of the village shimmered in the light, their sloped roofs reaching up into the night sky. The dirt road streets were so quiet with only the occasional villager out and about. She could see people walking back to their homes, while some were huddled near the local taverns sipping from their drinks and chatting.

As (Name) walked further into the village she noticed how dark it was, shadowed alleys in the darkness, mysterious buildings lit up by the dimly lit lanterns that lined the roads. The windows of the buildings glowed yellow in the moonlight, settlers were asleep inside their homes. Along the way, she saw Chinese symbols and intricate carvings encapsulated in the walls of the village buildings, which shined in the lantern light as she passed them.

As (Name) walked further, she sensed something was off. She could feel a tingling along the edges of her skin, a warning sign that something was amiss. She kept walking, her pace becoming more vigilant and alert to her surroundings.

Just then, she heard a commotion ahead of her. It sounded like shouting and cursing coming from a nearby alley. (Name) quietly picked up her pace, curiosity getting the better of her.

As she rounded the corner, she was horrified to find a group of roughly seven men standing with pipes and clubs, surrounding a little girl, with black hair and fair skin, who was huddled against her unconscious mother’s body. The girl was sobbing and shaking her mother, desperately trying to wake her.

The little girl looked too much like Calithea.

(Name) felt a wave of pure rage surge through her; these men were preying on this defenseless woman and her child. There was no way (Name) could let this stand. She rushed forward, determined to protect them.

As she barged her way through the crowd, the men stopped in surprise. (Name) felt something stir deep within her, something she had long suppressed but which now seemed to be reaching out in a desperate attempt to protect the two civilians, and before she knew what was happening, she felt the heat beginning to build in her palms and arms. Tendrils of flames started to erupt, curling and folding around each other, growing ever larger and brighter. As she raised her arms, they began to spread outwards around her body.

The men seemed surprised by the sudden display of power in front of them and took a couple of steps back. (Name)'s flames continued to build, her anger and outrage at the injustice of this unfairness morphing and twisting the fire into shapes and colors that she had never seen before.

The flames reached out further, encircling (Name) in a protective flame that extended outwards in all directions, blocking the brutes from getting close enough to do any additional harm.

(Name) stood there, her heart racing and her emotions in a knot, feeling her power but also feeling utterly drained and exhausted. She sent a wave of fire and energy around her, pushing the men away and ushering in a sense of safety and protection for the woman and her daughter.

The men exchanged terrified looks and turned to flee before the furious inferno that had appeared before them. (Name) scoffed at the retreating forms, her hands extinguished and her fury abating.

She then looked down at her hands in confusion. She hadn't used her fire abilities in years thinking they had disappeared, and yet here they were, responding to her anger as if they had always been a part of her. She shook her head, her recent revelations pushed to the back of her mind.

She turned to find the little girl still sitting beside her unconscious mother, eyes wide with shock. (Name) knelt before her and gently asked, “Are you alright?”

The girl nodded looking up at her with big green eyes, Kaitlyns heart sank slightly as that was the only one of the few differences between her and Calithea, "Thank you, Miss" She sniffled. (Name) waved her thanks away "No problem but we need to get you're mum to a doctor. Don't worry, doll, I got her" (Name) said picking up the mother and carrying her on her back.

(Name) quickly found the local doctor’s office after walking with the little girl for a few minutes, thankfully they were still open but the looks on their faces when they saw (Name) carrying the mother and the daughter standing next to her with scratches was a sight. After some medical attention and a few hours of rest, the woman was thankfully alright. (Name) was exhausted by the evening’s events and knew she needed rest. She continued on her journey and soon found the local inn where she was able to get a much-needed night’s sleep.

The following morning, (Name) awoke to a knock at the door. She opened it to find the same little girl from the night before, with her mother behind her, standing before her, tears in her eyes and a silver necklace in her hands "Thank you for protecting my mommy and me!" she once again thanked her for her help, before slipping the necklace into (Name)’s hand and running away with her mother following after her. (Name) looked after her, moved by the girl’s appreciation. She opened her hand to find the necklace with a simple circle pendant. Her heart swelled with the girls' kindness as she slipped the necklace on yet she still didn't smile but there was a slight twinkle in her eyes.

2 months later reads across the screen changing the scene to the village where the sound of a monkey wrench being used can be heard coming from an open shed. (Name) sat in her open shed, her motorcycle in pieces in front of her. The sun was high, beating down on her and the few buildings that populated the area. (Name) had been in this village for exactly two months now, and in that time it had become her home. In the short time she had been there, those in the small town had come to rely on her for fixing their various things.

She nods to herself as she surveyed her work. From where she was sitting, the motorcycle was made up of titanium, steel, and tungsten parts - all put together by her.

(Name) had on long jeans, her white singlet, and her brown boots. Her (hair colour) hair was tied up in a high bun, ensuring it stayed out of the way as she worked on her motorcycle's engine. Not that it mattered, as she already had smudges of oil on her otherwise fair skin. luckily she hung up her flannel on the hook behind her.

Glancing around the village, (Name) thought to herself that it was hot. She thought of the heat that must have been radiating from her shed, and of how she had been there all day with no break - not even for lunch. (Name) knelt in front of her bike and inspected the engine, her brow furrowed in contemplation "Son of a bitch" She grumbled as she worked on putting the engine together. She had to obtain the specific metals so that she could have her bike run on two different fuel sources. Petrol of course to avoid any unwanted attention not like the other option.

Her fire.

She had planned this for the past month and a half. Getting the materials was easy it was forging the parts that were hard for her. Tungsten and titanium don't melt easily. Tungesten melts at 5600* while titanium melts at 3000* She had to figure out how to meld them together with steel so that she could build the bike up from scratch. using the two specific metals made her bike damn near fireproof meaning she couldn't melt it as long as she didn't use her fire at half-strength which was easy enough.

She had been training with her abilities in the fields on some nights away from any civilian life to prevent any injuries to others. They hadn't changed all that much, maybe her anger fueled it a bit too much at times, yes but there wasn't all that much different from what she used to do.

The sun was beginning to dip in the sky, and (Name) knew it was about time to end her day's work. As she collected her tools and carefully put the pieces of her bike back in place.

The cruiser motorcycle was a sight to behold, sleek and powerful, yet elegant and compact. It was a perfect combination of classic looks and heavy-duty performance. Its frame was constructed from a combination of titanium, tungsten, and steel, all of which lent the bike its incredible fire and heat resistance, able to withstand temperatures of up to 5000 degrees Celsius. The black leather seating was comfortable yet beautiful, the handlebars soft and easy to hold onto, and the strong headlight shone brightly during the night.

To complete the look were two side saddle bags, affixed to each side of the bike for storage. These bags were made of tough leather, able to resist wear and tear, as well as provide plenty of space for items.

Yet, the most impressive feature of this cruiser motorcycle was its ability to run on her firepower. In the event of a fuel shortage, the bike would still be able to function from the energy generated by the fire she supplied. This allowed it to be used in areas where fuel was not easily available, making it an even more reliable and attractive vehicle.

The bike was energized by the roar of its engine, capable of moving forward at an impressive speed. By its looks, it was clear that it was designed to be a reliable and steady machine, one that its rider could count on.

This cruiser motorcycle was a sight to behold, a brilliant combination of beauty and performance that was sure to make any rider proud. It was robust and dependable, able to withstand intense heat and fire, and yet still retain its style and charm. Its strong headlight and side saddle bags provided extra functionality, and its ability to run on firepower made it an invaluable tool for remote studies. This hefty, classic-looking bike was a true powerhouse that any rider could count on.

She loved how beautifully put together her bike was as she began closing up the shed with a nod of approval and locked it up. She turned around with her toolbox in one hand and her hoodie in the other as she made her way back to her little house ready for what was to come.

Later that night they came back.

The six bandits were a motley crew, all of them draped in tattered cloaks and cloaked in hoods that hid their true identities. The leader of the pack had a jagged scar running down his left cheek, and the others - six men and three women - were equally as rough in appearance.

They burst through the village in the dead of night, their cackles ringing out loud across the sleeping streets. The bandits wasted no time messing with the villagers' stalls, standing firm with their arms crossed even in the face of the enraged complaints of the angry vendors. They plundered and tore through the booths, grasping merchandise in their hands and stuffing their bags with all they could find. The leader of the bandits went around brandishing a hefty stick, lashing out at anyone who looked twice at them.

The villagers, rightfully scared of the bandits' violent behavior, stayed indoors as the bandits pillaged the stalls to their heart's content. The frightened market-goers looked out from their windows at the chaotic scene developing before their eyes, familiar faces that had been shopping there for years now dreading the thought of the bandits returning. The villagers acted like rats in a maze, waiting for the bandits to eventually release them from their fear.

The six bandits were loud and oppressive, their bulky frames intimidating and their unkempt hair billowing in the night breeze. They were clad in leather and carried daggers and swords in makeshift scabbards. Their boots stomped on the cobblestones as they began to make off with their plunder. The villagers, scared and trembling, waited hunkered in their homes waiting until the bandits had moved on.

But the bandits were unaware of the return of a legend.

"I don't think those belong to you"

The bandits look around trying to find who dared to speak out against them "Up here" They all look up to the building where the moon hangs over.

There on the roof stood a silhouetted figure loomed over them. Her mid-thigh length hair floated slightly in the wind gently, her nose and mouth covered by a black bandana, a black sleeveless shirt, black fingerless gloves, black leggings, black ankle boots with silver rivets on the sides, chains wrapped around both of her forearms, a long black pole strapped to her back and her piercing (eye colour) eyes trained on them in a glare as she stood there in a crouched position with her forearms laying on her thighs.

"What the-" "Drop the valuables they're not yours. If you do that you can walk away without any harm done. You DON'T drop them you won't be walking away from this" (Name) said in a calm and ice-cold tone of voice that sent shivers of fear down some of their spines. One of the women stepped up. "Like we'll listen to you! Fucking coward standing above us up there!" She yelled up making some of her friends laugh. (Name) remains silent for a few moments before she straightens herself up "I gave you a chance. Now suffer the consequences" she says as she walks to the side of the roof and drops into the dark alley disappearing into its inky blackness. It's silent for a few moments and the bandits begin to believe that she is all bark and no bite laughing and mocking her.

until there was a little light in the alley.

In the darkness, (Name) raised her arms and suddenly the alleyway transformed. Fire engulfed the walls and the ground beneath them seemed to ripple as flames lapped up against the stone. She had a scythe in one hand--its silver blade reflecting the orange light as its tip cut through the air. In the other was a chain of metal, glinting in the fire. While the chains were simple silver the Scythe was another story. 

The long scythe was awe-inspiring and had a dangerous air about it. It was a thing of beauty; not that of the clean and inoffensive kind, but rather, of a wild, feral beauty.

The scythe had two distinct colors, complimentary and in perfect harmony: silver and black. The pole was a black design with slim lines through it like cracks in the ground which seemed to show the inside of the scythe, slim and strong. The silver blade was set on a short yet powerful black iron arm, where the design on the handle stood out exquisitely despite its darkness. The blade itself was in the shape of a large fang but still looked very similar to that of a grim reaper's scythe. the design on it was simple for the most part, with no special designs, and no patterns but the edge of the blade was more defined as a lighter silver.

The bandits stood in shock. The female vigilante had come for them and she wasn't here to give them another chance.

She strode towards them, her movements fluid and graceful as the flames danced around her. With one swift movement, she swung her scythe, and as the lines on either side of the pole lit up with her fire, the edge of the blade glowed bright and sent the flames soaring outwards, scorching the faces of the bandits and immolating the stone. The bandits yelled and scrambled, trying to outrun the fire, but the woman was relentless. She swung her scythe at the first bandit severing his arm from above the elbow. He screams in pain but is quickly silenced by her decapitating him. Another bandit tried to charge at her but didn't get even close as she swung her scythe again upwards slicing her left leg off and making her scream and howl in pain. The man and the other two women tried to run from her. A chain flew out from the alley and wrapped around one of the women's throats choking her. (Name) heated the metal causing the chain around her forearm and hand to glow bright with the conducted heat. The glow traveled up the chain to around the woman's neck. She tried to scream but the glowling hot chain was pulled back severing her head and letting it roll on the ground.

(Name) twirled her scythe and sent out a shockwave of flame that engulfed them, burning them to ashes in a matter of seconds leaving two of the bandits alive and on their asses.

The two bandits looked at each other in horror then at (Name) as she loomed over them like a specter of hell the moon shadowing her features except for her glowling eyes that held no remorse. Just a cold dead stare "P-Please! w-w-we're sorry! we'll give everything back! we swear!" The female bandit from earlier stammered as her leader trembled in fear with sweat beading from his head. (Name) tilted her head and narrowed her eyes "....You are to leave everything you have taken from these people...then you will spread a message for me to every single one of your friends and anyone else who wants to prey on the innocent again" (Name) said calmly with venom dripping from her voice as she leaned in closer causing the pair to shake with fear seeing her grip tighten on her scythe still glowing with fire. The wind carried a chill throughout the village, the fire behind her causing her eyes to look like a predator about to pounce on their prey, her hair being highlighted by its light.

"Viper has returned. She is here to bring swift justice to the degenerates of this world, and none shall be spared her wrath"

The two bandits nod shaking and running off with nothing but the clothes on their backs into the night. (Name) stood in the center, surveying the carnage, her hair billowing in the wind. Satisfied that justice had been served, she extinguished the last traces of flame stepped away from the alleyway entrance, and walked down the street retracting her chains back to her forearms.

This was the monster she had hidden. The monster who fed on her anger, her rage, her heartbreak, and her sorrow. She may be a legend in the books but she took her anger out on those who thought they were above consequence.

Gone was the naive 18-year-old girl who looked at this world with wide eyes and a bright smile, gone was the 22-year-old who was in love and hoped for a future where she could have peace, and gone was the 28-year-old who was a mother in bliss ready to be with the man she loved. Now all that remains is the 24-year-old woman who simply existed and never asked for more.

Kindness, for her, was something she would always have but she swore to keep others at arm's length. (Name) sighs pulling down her mouth mask before returning to her small house to clean off her scythe.

As the fires had begun to die out the darkness of the night swallowed her up, leaving nothing but silence in her wake. Justice had been served, and the town was now safe. The screen fades to black.

Grunting can be heard in the darkness along with air wooshes before the screen brightens to an open field.

(Name) stood in the middle of the training grounds, her long scythe in hand. She had been practicing for hours, and her arms and hands were covered in cuts, a testament to her dedication to her craft. Holding the long scythe tightly, (Name) swung it around her like an extension of her arm. She trained for hours every day in the large field, with wooden poles that she had set up in a makeshift training area. The helix pattern of curved metal that took up more than 1/3 of the scythe's length glinted dangerously in the setting sun's light.

Her breathing was even, her stance sturdy as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Her eyes, a comforting brown, were focused and intense, her gaze fixed on an imaginary opponent. She didn't train just for the vigilante shtick she did it to release any extra energy she built up otherwise she'd end up being anxious and get frustrated. (Name) raised the scythe and began to move. She twirled it in her hands, spinning it around her body with an almost graceful ease. It seemed like second nature to her, as if she'd been born to wield such a weapon.

One foot moved forward and the other moved back as she shifted her weight again, her eyes never leaving her imaginary target. The scythe flew in circles around her, its sharp blade slicing through the air with deadly precision.

(Name) had been training with her scythe for months now, and it was starting to become second nature to her. She could feel the weight of it in her hands, and the balance of it in her body. She could anticipate her opponent's moves before they even made them, and she was ready to strike at any moment.

She moved forward, her scythe slicing through the air with a deadly accuracy. (Name) was a master of her craft and determined to prove it. The sun was setting, casting a golden hue over the makeshift training grounds. (Name)'s cuts glistened in the fading light of day, and her breathing was still even and steady as she moved with her weapon.

(Name) had been so deeply engrossed in her training that she hadn't noticed the sun sink low on the horizon. Her arms and shoulders ached from the effort, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. She didn't bother keeping track of time while she trained instead she used her determination and anger toward this world's so-called protector to push her forward. She recalls how she had made her scythe with the intention to instill fear in her opponents or any poor unfortunate soul unlucky enough to cross her in any way. She wanted it to be strong enough to withstand her fire much like her bike. Gathering the materials was much easier than designing the weapon.

Since then, she had been training hard, learning to work with any restricting movements with bandages on the skin of her arm, what with all the cuts and scrapes she had amassed due to her intense training with the weapon. Her palms were the worst, the skin on them sore and raw. She brushed a lock of her (hair colour) hair out of her eyes and flexed her fingers.

She was clumsy at first with it in the beginning, getting cut up multiple times, dropping it many times, and missing over and over again but after a few weeks, she was a natural with the scythe. It moved through her hands like an extension of her body, guided by some of her training. She could feel it, a power like no other that thrummed through her, as she continued her training. Her determination, impressive as it was, was beginning to pay off.

(Name) left the makeshift training area and began her way back home. Her feet moved lightly across the ground as she crossed the field, she felt the cold breeze licking at her skin like a gentle caress. She breathed in the fresh, night air. Soon, she was home, her scythe in tow.

At home, (Name) laid her scythe down carefully, its weightless form settling in its place. She rested her head on her pillow and allowed her eyes to close, finally surrendering to the exhaustion of her day. All the while, she knew that when her eyes reopened in the morning, it would be time to pick up her beloved scythe once more.

This was her life now, and she was determined to make the most of it. She did not doubt that she was ready for whatever might come her way. The screen fades to black as the candle nearby is blown out.

The screen shows that enough time has passed to the point of a week before (Name) is to go back to Madam Bo's. She's packing things into her motorcycle's saddles as some villagers come to wish her well. As she places her scythe into its collapsable size in one of the saddlebags the camera pans down her clothes. An orange sleeveless zip-up hoodie open to an inch under her underbust, black shorts, black tight-fitted thigh-high boots, a black mouth mask, and yellow round duo-bubble lens goggles on her head.

"That should be everything" She mutters her mouth opened enough to see her small sharp canines as she adjusts her goggles on her eyes before hopping onto her cycle. She nods in approval as she revs up her cycle, kicks the kick-stand up, and pulls up her black mouth mask  "Atta girl" She praises her creation before taking off down the dirt road into the wide open lands.

The camera pans to a side view of (Name) on her motorcycle giving a full view of the landscape behind her. Her expression was unidentifiable due to the mask and the goggles as dust blew behind her. Her mind focused on only getting back to Fengjian and seeing her Ma again. The camera pans around to the back of her and her hood flutters in the wind underneath her fluttering hair.

She rides off down the dirt road where the camera stops then pans upwards to the blinding sun.

(I promised someone on my wattpad account that I'd post the first chapter of this book in the first week of November so here it is. Understand, however, that the rest of the chapters will take a while to get through since, unlike the previous games, I don't have transcripts of the game to go off of and it'll be hard to watch through the cutscenes of the game and type it up at the same time. until then hope you enjoy the first chapter)

[merrock]

event: Hallo-Week

location: all around Merrock

date & time: October 25 - November 3

ooc duration: same dates

It's time… to get your spook on! We know how much this town loves Halloween, so we've rounded up as many Merrockites as possible to get fun things happening in town, whether it be movies, spooky fun activities, party nights, or anything that your haunted little hearts desire.

Please note: for the kids, trick-or-treat will still be happening on Halloween (October 31st), so make sure that you have candy ready to go, to treat them right! Or else… you might find yourself getting a trick. You can go door to door, do the trunk-or-treat, or head to the nursing home to get candy!

Dive under the cut for a complete list of things happening in and around Merrock from October 25th until November 3rd, and have fun!

DOWNTOWN

bookends -- book sale on all horror novels

brownstone inne -- ghost stories in the hotel lobby (& refreshments)

cityview park -- pumpkin carving & painting contests, various craft stations set up (for adults and kids)

cobblestone cafe -- pumpkin spice everything

the holiday shoppe -- 50-75% off all Halloween decor

mack's -- special seasonal pumpkin menu

merrock railway -- haunted train ride

the mirage -- spooky karaoke in the speakeasy (come in costume!)

mods -- flash tattoos & face painting for kids

stubs -- nightly Halloween movies (see below!)

touchback -- spooky cocktails & drinks

town hall -- Halloween safety demonstrations

vibrations -- monster mash party night all week-long (come in costume!)

STUBS:

All movies will be available on the Stubs app, as well, for you to watch at home! There is a small charge for each film, but the money goes straight to the theater. Early films will play at 6PM, late at 9PM.

October 25 -- Casper, Friday the 13th.

October 26 -- Beetlejuice, Pet Sematary.

October 27 -- Addams Family, Nightmare on Elm Street.

October 28 -- Scooby Doo on Zombie Island, Psycho.

October 29 -- Nightmare Before Christmas, Scream.

October 30 -- It's the Great Pumpkin Charlie Brown, Carrie.

October 31 -- Hocus Pocus, Halloween.

November 1 -- Coraline, Child's Play.

November 2 -- The Haunted Mansion, The Exorcist.

November 3 -- Rocky Horror Picture Show, The Craft.

ALSO AVAILABLE: Monster House, Halloweentown, Goosebumps, Practical Magic, Sleepy Hollow, What We Do in the Shadows, Ernest Scared Stupid, Scared Shrekless, The Witches, Death Becomes Her, Poltergeist, Happy Death Day, Jennifer's Body, The Crow, The Lost Boys, Rosemary's Baby, The Conjuring, The Invisible Man, Trick 'r Treat, Totally Killer + more.

COASTAL AREA

anchors away -- seasonal drinks and pumpkin beer

breathe in -- yoga & pilates with the Sanderson Sisters (come in costume!)

cassidy's candies -- mega discount on all Halloween candy

from brush to canvas -- autumn/Halloween paintings exhibited

the lighthouse -- ghost stories at the top of the lighthouse

the marina -- haunted boat rides (murder mystery style)

mawk tales -- seasonal spooky mocktails all week

sea breeze -- special Halloween flavors available

SUBURBS

aster playground -- pumpkin painting, various kids games set up

benny's -- massive Halloween decor & costume sale

children's museum -- various halloween-themed activities

community center -- costume closet open for takers

the creamery -- black & blue milks available, halloween ice creams

cul-de-sac diner -- halloween-themed meals (& specials for kids)

flour co. -- decorate your own pumpkin cookies

the fun spot -- horror skate nights (come in costume!)

the great escape -- horror escape rooms

memorial library -- spooky story reads, horror book displays

pinecrest cemetery -- cemetery tours (not haunted; respectful)

treasure chest -- 50% off all fall and Halloween decor

COUNTRYSIDE

the barn at lake malory -- haunted houses; family friendly (for kids & easily scared adults who want to take it easy), supernatural/fantasy (medium), slasher (scary).

handpick'd -- specials on seasonal wines

harmony ranch -- haunted hay ride & corn maze

hideaway market -- trunk or treat sponsored by takato's (come in costume!)

lavender lane -- pumpkin, mums & fall favorites on deep discount

little chapel -- ghost stories (with surprise haunting)

north shore -- trick-or-treating with senior citizens (come in costume!)

paradise gardens -- seasonal fall/halloween displays

pet haven -- free treat to all pets that show up in costumes

pine grove gardens -- true merrock horror / scary stories

state park -- spooky walks along the trails (very kid friendly)

the wheel -- 50% off all halloween related items

ADMIN NOTES: have at it! If you want to post costumes, they can be done any time through the week, whether you're partying at Evolution, dressing up to work at your business, or just want to get spiffed up for actual Halloween. Please tag them with #merrockfashion. Socials can be tagged with #merrocksocial, as well. Please do remember to tag anything with trigger warnings if it veers into triggering things, such as excessive blood! You can do other things for Hallo-Week, like having a slumber party and watching movies at home with your bestie, roasting pumpkin seeds, going out to toilet paper someone's house (please have permission), this is the perfect time to just have fun with anything that has to do with Halloween! <3

[thrawns-babygirl]

It's all NSFW so Minors DNI

My Ko-Fi

Crosshair

NSFW Fics:

Missed You - Cross returns back to Kamino after a lengthy stay off world and makes up for lost time (F!Reader) - 887 words

Insufferable [Part 2]- You and Crosshair have an argument and afterwards he can't get you out of his head (F!Reader) - 1064 words

Pent Up - It's been a while since you and Cross got any alone time (F!Reader) - 606 words

Collared - After being left alone on the Marauder for a couple of hours, you get an idea that Crosshair is all too happy to go along with (F!Reader) - 2149 words

Coming Home - Some soft consensual somno as Crosshair comes to visit you after spending too long off-world (F!Reader) - 1067 words

To the Limits - Crosshair loves you so much, and that involves pushing your body to its absolute limit (F!Reader) - 965 words

Art - You and Cross make good use of the large mirror in the hotel room you booked (F!Reader) - 972 words

Knives - You doubt Crosshair's ability at close range... he reminds you that he's a highly capable soldier in close quarters (F!Reader) - 1358 words

Intense - Crosshair gets a little too.... intense in one of your sessions and needs to readjust his methods (F!Reader) - 783 words

Discomfort - Crosshair gets injured on a mission and comes to see you after hours (GN!Reader) - 2231 words

Interrupted - Thinking you were going to be alone for a while, you take some time to yourself before being interrupted by the object of your desires (F!Reader) - 1531 words

Show me - Crosshair wants you to put on a little show for him (F!Reader) - 950 words

Every time - Soft!Cross drabble (GN!Reader) - 600+ words

I Need Your Love - Cross is in dire need of some loving, good thing you're there to give it to him (F!Reader) - 1100+ Words

Pegged - You peg crosshair. That's it. That's the fic (AFAB!Reader) - 2000+ words

Night in - You get drunk and call Crosshair while he's on the marauder (GN!Reader) - 1300+ words

Massage - after a long and stressful day, Crosshair offers you a night comforting massage (GN!Reader) - 1700+ words

Ride it - You do a bit of research to show Crosshair the night of his life (F!Reader) - 900+ words

Send Nudes - Crosshair's tattoos give you some very unprofessional ideas (GN!Reader) - 2200+ words

375 Follower Celebration Completed Prompts:

#12 "you make such pretty sounds for me my love"

#22 "Just friends?! Do your friends make you feel hot and bothered like this? Do they make you moan like this?!”

#30 "you're so cute when you're nervous"

#40 "Don't tempt me"

#44 "Why are you covering up? I've already seen everything"

#50 "You're so beautiful... so so beautiful"

#57 "don't mind me, just enjoying the view" [M!Reader Version]

Headcanons:

General Spicy Headcanons

Tech

NSFW Fics

Making Eyes - Tech has been making eyes at you for too long and Phee takes it upon herself to help him talk to you (F!Reader) - 4600+ words

SFW Fics

Nervous - Tech is nervous around you and you're not sure why (GN!Reader) - 1100+ Words

Thrawn

The Gallery - You are the curator of the Imperial Gallery and while trying to maintain funding for your gallery, you run into Thrawn at a gala - (F!Reader) - 3800+ Words

Stake Out [Part 2] [Part 3]- Mid Captain Thrawn has been making eyes at the human pathfinder that navigates the Parala from time to time, totally sick of them on her bridge, Senior Captain Ziara sends them off on a mission to work out their tension. (GN!Reader) - 6500+ Words

Canvas - Short fic from Thrawn's pov where he ties you up and enjoys you for the art you are (F!Reader) - 1200+ Words

Sensations - Nightsister of Dathomir reader decides to show thrawn something new (F!Reader) - 2100+ Words

Thrawn with a son named Thrass HC's

[plotsignificanthaircut555]

Ternion Part II

Kishibe x Reader x Aki Hayakawa SMUT, Angst, Fluff, MDNI, 18+ only Ao3

Read Part 1 before this if you wanna know whats up (Mostly Aki x Reader, but fear not PART 3 is coming and it is going to get delicious and nasty so soon. Thank you guys so much for all the love on the first part, i hope you guys enjoy this just as much! see you in part 3) 7.4k words.

After the events of last night and the office run in this morning Aki comes over, hoping to clear up a few things. Things end up much more confusing.

Content Notes: SEX/SMUT, kissing, oral (both receiving), riding, smoking, dirty talk, masturbating in the shower, avoiding feelings, talk about cum like a lot, reader is described with female anatomy.

It was 8:30 when Hayakawa arrived at your apartment, his heart raced as he stared into the wood of your front door. He hadn’t chimed the doorbell yet, nor had he knocked. He stood outside, under the covered hallway of your apartment building. The night air cooled the back of his neck where nervous sweat had begun to gather. He had taken his hair down now, rushing home after work to shower and shamefully stroking his aching erection under the cool spray of the water. 

Why was he so turned on after seeing you and Kishibe in your office? 

The rest of the work day had been aging, he was unfocused, his mind occupied with his own selfish thoughts instead of focusing on the very real danger he was in near constantly. He had a new scratch on his face to show for it, two butterfly bandages keeping the skin of his left cheek sealed as it started to heal. The bruising had started to come in around it, red and purple clouds erupting around the cut. Today’s Devil had been low level but he couldn’t get out of his own head, if it weren’t for his team members he would have been in a lot worse shape. And yet, he couldn’t feel embarrassed or disappointed in himself, there wasn’t enough room in his head between the questions circling in his mind.

Should he bring it up to you? He should just ask, right? It’s fine. It’s casual. He just wanted to know. Was it weird he had stayed to watch? He was just in shock, right? Had Kishibe said anything to you after he left? Did Kishibe know about the two of you? Was there really anything to know? 

Aki sighed heavily, adjusting the canvas bag of ingredients on his shoulder. Just go inside. He told himself, raising his hand to your small doorbell. Just as he did, your door swung open. You stood before him looking as beautiful as ever. Hair undone from its work styling, comfortable but stylish clothing on your perfect, full body, your makeup from the day still intact but blurred slightly in its previous sharpness giving you a dreamy look. God, you are so beautiful. No wonder you had him in a tailspin. You smiled at him, showing him your pretty, perfect teeth. 

“Hey, I thought I heard you stewing out here.” You opened the door wider for him, before catching sight of his injured face, your eyes blew wide, reaching for his cheek, “oh Aki! What happened? Come in, come in.” 

You took the bag off his arm and ushered him inside quickly. 

“It’s nothing…I just lost my focus a bit today. Seriously, I didn’t even feel it.” He followed you in, removing his shoes at the door and shutting it behind him. 

It wasn’t true, he had felt it. It really fucking hurt, it still hurt, throbbing under the skin, stinging along the split itself. 

“It doesn’t look like nothing, sit down.” You flurried around him, effectively sheep-dogging him onto your couch, making him sit. 

You examined the wound closely, looking for any early signs of infection. It was raised and looked flushed, but that was to be expected as it was starting to heal. Aki hated that he enjoyed having you sore over him like this. It made him feel weak, to be cared for and to enjoy it so. As your eyes scanned over his injury, his stayed locked on yours, watching your large irises flick over every inch of his face. Your hands move over his shoulders as though you were patting him down.

“Did you get hurt anywhere else?” You asked before adding flirtatiously, “how easy should I go on you tonight?” 

The levity of your addition made him regain his breath in the form of a small laugh, “not at all. I’m really fine. It’s my own fault.” 

You smiled at him again, satisfied that he was okay and intact. You leaned forward and pecked his lips softly, butterflies emerged from their chrysalises as he felt your lips for the first time today. 

“Good.” You hummed still close to his lips before sitting back down in front of him, “why don’t you let me do the cooking for once? You already brought me coffee and you're injured. What did you bring anyway?” 

You started to dig into the canvas bag he had already forgotten about. 

“It’s just stuff for a vegetable curry. Let me do it, it won’t take long.” He knew it would take half the time if he cooked, and he already wanted to skip ahead to the desert. 

You weren’t much of a cook so you didn’t fight him on it, opting to make him and yourself drinks as he tutted about your small kitchen. You sat on the counter sipping the cocktail you had made for you both, only a little bit in his way as he tried to cook around you. He was a very fast cook, clean and efficient, as well as gifted in his flavors. He regularly made you meals worthy of being in the finest kitchens in the finest restaurants. If he hadn’t resigned himself to dying as a Devil Hunter you would try to convince him to pursue this instead. You admired him as he worked, he hadn’t pulled his hair back up, as he often did when cooking, opting to just tuck the shaggier parts behind his ears. He really was so handsome. His long, angular nose pointing straight down to his delicious, grapefruit pink lips. Those striking, stormy eyes so full of so much unknowable emotion, so unguarded in this rare moment of privacy. You watched his eyes so carefully when the two of you were alone, he was so different at work, colder and laser focused. Even when interacting with you at the office or in the field he gave no indication of the sparkling, tender gaze you could see here at home. 

You couldn’t stop looking at the fresh bruise and slice on his cheek. The one marring his perfect, fawn fresh skin. 

“So what had you so distracted today?” You sipped your drink crossing your ankles in front of you as they hung down from your perch. 

Aki stalled slightly before resuming his chopping, not facing you, “oh..just work. Nothing important.” 

You cocked your head a bit, “if it was important enough for you to potentially scar your perfect face, I can’t imagine it was nothing.” 

He turned to you with a sly smirk, “perfect face, huh?” 

Aki moved toward you, slotting himself between your legs, his arms on the outsides of your thighs, leaning his upper body towards yours. You allowed him in instantly, moving your hands around his neck. 

“Yeah. Don’t want you ruining something so irreplaceable.” You flirted back, leaning closer to his lips. 

“I thought you liked scars?” Aki’s lips brushed against yours. 

Fuck. He showed his hand too much. 

You sunk into the kiss before you processed what he had said. But once you heard it you couldn’t unhear it. 

Was he talking about Kishibe? Had Kishibe said something to him?

You pulled away from the kiss, not letting on that you potentially caught on to his double meaning. Instead smiling softly and sipping your drink. Aki, too, was eager to not reveal any more than he may have already, so he moved back to his cutting board and deposited its contents into the simmering pan on your stove top. The conversation became starkly benign after that. Sticking to work and the supermarket and how strange Kobeni had been this morning. You tried not to pry too much more about his assignment that day. Eventually the thick air of potential conflict dissipated and you were able to enjoy the rest of dinner peacefully flirting. 

“Once again your cooking is unreal Aki. How did you even learn how to do all of this?” You complimented, enjoying the blush that would come over his face as you praised him. 

He shrugged, avoiding your heart eyed gaze at him, “oh nowhere. I get recipe books from the library. I make photocopies of the ones I like. I made this recipe myself though. It’s an easy one, so it’s not really that special.” 

You could swoon, imagining Aki taking his little canvas bags to the local library and looking in the cook books for new recipes to try was too sweet. He had such a lovely domestic side, your heart ached knowing his prolonged isolation was likely what had brought that on. But you decided to instead focus on the image of him happily scanning the recipes instead. You slide your foot against his leg under the table, seeing his ears turn pink. 

“That’s really lovely, Aki. I’m so flattered you would show me your own recipe. This one’s my favorite so far.”

“You say that everytime.” He rolls his eyes but his blush deepens a bit. 

“It’s true everytime.” You slide your foot up a bit higher on his calf, willing him to turn his eyes back to you. 

His gaze stayed trained on the plate in front of him, poking at the remnants of his meal. You finished your dinner in comfortable, but flirtatiously loaded silence. Your foot stayed in contact with his own, caressing the ball of his ankle, or snaking under the leg of his pants to brush against his shin bone. Aki was so easy to tease, he loved any kind of touch, but it made him feel giddy and vulnerable. Even just the back and forth of your leg against his had his heart racing and his skin feeling too tight. When you both were finished, the drinks had taken their effect, the dishes sat washed and dried on the rack, you two retreated to your terrace languidly smoking and enjoying the night air. Aki felt more grounded with every puff. You, however, felt more dangerous. Silence was a welcome part of your relationship with Aki, it enabled him to relax, and it gave you plenty of time to drink him in. You had probably spent more time staring at him than you had actually engaging in pleasuring one another. Presently you were enjoying watching the muscles in his long, slender throat shift and pull as he breathed in from the last of his cigarette. It was nearly at the filter. You knew he would want another, he almost always had two in succession  these days. You stood from your patio chair, pulling a dart from the pack and offering it to him as he moved to snuff out his current one. Finally you got to see those midnight blue eyes again, they creased slightly at the sides, his version of a smile. You took his cigarette butt and discarded it in the ashtray for him, and placed the new one between his lips, your forefinger brushing his top lip so delicately. Locked in the gaze you watched the reflection of the lights flame appear in his eyes, the sizzling of the end of the cigarette the only sound between you. It illuminated as he breathed in, relaxing to a low red as you pulled the lighter away. 

“Thank you.” He breathed out, pushing the smoke down and away from your face. So considerate. 

He watched you carefully, you could feel his eyes on your body, finally alone enough for him to openly desire you. You pulled the cushion from your chair and set it on the ground between his spread legs, his pupils blowing wider as he watched you settle on your knees in front of him. You mirrored his look, choosing 

“You don’t—-“ Aki shivered under your hands, sliding from his shoulders down his chest and stomach. 

“I want to, Aki.” You rested your cheek against his right thigh, your hand carefully brushing against the waistband of his pants, “Please? I hate that you got hurt, let me take care of you.”

Hayakawa brushed some of your hair back, hand moving over the top of your head and down your cheek. He wanted this so bad, he wanted you so badly. Your hand moved lower, feeling him hard in his pants, just barely stroking the shape of him. 

“Please?” You have him your best, cutest, most convincing puppy dog eyes, despite feeling how much he wanted you. 

He nodded quickly, moving to help you slide his pants off. Once they were bunched around his ankles, his underwear following closely, his cock sprung up before you. Pretty pink tip dripping already, long and thin in stature. Every part of him was so beautiful, length curved slightly, hair trimmed and groomed, even the veins buldging under the skin created a pretty pattern. Your mouth watered just looking at him, you leaned forward, taking the base in your hand and licked a drop of precum daring to leak over the side of the head. Aki shuddered at how hot and wet your tongue felt already. You wrapped your lips around the head and sucked in, your flesh of your mouth creating a perfect ring of pillowy muscle to surround him. The hand the was cupping your cheek now traveled to your hair, not pulling or pushing your head down, the hand was there to keep himself grounded or he worried his euphoria would carry him away from this moment. 

“T-thank yo-you..” Aki moaned as you moved lower on his length, your lips touching the top of your hand that held him in place. 

So polite.

His praise was the spark you need to begin your true artistry. You had always been….gifted…in this area, you weren’t shy, or afraid to get messy, or be loud. This had been a consistent cause for compliment for you since you had become sexually active. And the truth was: you enjoyed giving head, the generosity, the taste, the feeling, especially on partners as sweet as Aki; ones who keep your hair from falling in your way, who don’t try to guide or push you, who allow you to show them what you can do all on your own. You were pulling the sweetest sounds from him, short, huffing breaths, soft whimpers of your name, one hand gripping the arm of his chair, the cigarette it once held discarded in favor of steadying himself.  

Aki was having to focus on not bucking his hips up into your mouth, it was just as good—no, better than he remembered from last time. He wasn’t going to last like this. He hadn’t cum in the shower just a few hours ago, the shame of being so turned on watching you with another man, not just a man, but Kishibe, was too much. Even on his best days, most relaxed and excited days, he had never made himself feel this good. Only you had, only you could, 

you were the best he had ever had.

“Mmm, thank you, baby.” You hummed around his length and his eyes flew open. 

Had he said that last part out loud? 

He hadn’t even registered the words leaving his mouth, he hadn’t realized his eyes had closed until they opened. He struggled to look down and watch you, hollow cheeks, eyes closed, lips full and soft, stretched around him. His cock jumped all on its own at the sight, causing you to squeeze him in your hand tighter, pumping the inches directly into your bobbing mouth. 

The bottom hem of his sweatshirt was slipping down, your hand occasionally sliding against the fabric, spit and precum starting to darken the fabric. He pulled it up and over his stomach, holding it out of the way for you. You hummed happily again, sliding your free hand up his taught torso. The combination of sensation sent Aki’s head back and his eyes rolling. Another throaty shudder leaving him. You loved the feel of him in your mouth, the weight, the soft skin, the way your tongue could slide underneath so easily. You were having the time of your life between his legs, it wasn’t until the hand he kept in your hair clenched around a few strands that you even thought about him cumming. 

“Fuck, you’re so good” Aki muffled, now biting onto the hem of his sweatshirt both to keep it out of the way and to not give your neighbors an erotic audio play. 

You bobbed your head faster, focusing your tongue’s swirling around the head only and pumping the rest of the length. This combination was going to do it for him, he felt himself curl; hips rocking upward, back curving, hands now both on either side of your head. Hot cum flooded your mouth, you took him in as far as your throat would allow. You stopped moving and allowed him to empty himself completely. You took everything he had. Once he was finished, he slumped back against the chair, hands falling limply to the side, sweatshirt free from his mouth. You sat back on your heels watching him pant into the night air above you. When he finally dared to peek an eye down at you, his reregulating dick jumped. He felt his cheeks burn but couldn’t bring himself to actually be embarrassed. The throbbing in his split cheek had gone away completely, the chatter of his mind was quieted, he felt so good, so relaxed. He could have stayed in this euphoria all night, but he couldn’t possibly not reciprocate. 

Aki sat forward, his big hands wrapping around your bicep, pulling you forward to him. He kissed you, long and deep; his tongue unafraid to slip into your mouth and taste himself. Who was he to be discomforted by the taste of his own load? He pulled you easily onto his lap, his wet cock sticky against your leg, but you didn’t care, too lost in his kiss. He trailed one hand up your back and around the nape of your neck, pulling you deeper into him. You wrapped your own arms around his neck, pressing your chest up against his. 

“I want to take care of you too.” Hayakawa finally spoke up against your lips. 

You nodded, barely registering what he meant. He slid his hands down your back, sliding under your shirt, feeling the soft skin underneath. 

“Let’s go back in.” He emphasized, growing impatient. 

Aki was different after he had cum, you were learning this about him. He was an intellectual guy, reserved, he spent most of his time in his own head, opting to keep his desires and wants to himself. But once you had pulled an orgasm from him, he became confident and bold. Asking for things directly, taking exactly what he wanted, and you loved giving it to him. You let him lead you into your bedroom, watched as he discarded the rest of his clothes in a small pile on the floor, let him remove your own clothes. He liked to be the one to undress you, hands exploring every inch of newly exposed skin as he uncovered it. He was meticulous in his ravishing of you; kissing your neck and shoulders, finding every dimple, every scar, every freckle, every birthmark, giving them each a moment of focused affection. Once he had you naked, he pushed you back onto the bed, making the pillows into a place for you to lean back against. He settled between your legs, pulling your knees over his shoulders and preemptively holding the tops of your thighs. Hayakawa did not like to be interrupted while he was eating. 

Uninhibited, endorphins flooding his mind, Aki dove right in. Licking along your slit, the taste of you sending his eyes rolling back in his head. Your back started to arch, just one kiss against you was enough to have you squirming. This is where the thigh holding came in handy, Aki pulled you closer to him, not letting you wiggle out of his grasp. He buried his face in your pussy. Tongue lapping at you, nose brushing against your throbbing clitoris. He was devouring you, slurping loudly, tongue dipping into your hole then sliding flat back up to your clit, to swirl shapes against the nerves. 

You cried out his name, trying to keep your hips still. Aki cast a warning glance at you, the blue of his eyes barely remained as though he was possessed. You couldn’t look at him for too long because he sucked hard around your clit and sent your head lolling back, nearly in delirium. Trusting that you knew to stay as still as you could, Aki freed your legs, his right hand traveling up your body to squeeze at one of your breasts. His left hand joined him at your core, two of his deliciously long fingers slipping into you so easily. The feeling of him sinking into you sent you gasping and moaning loudly into your bedroom, you grasped at the hand on your chest; desperate to hold onto him. The thumb in your hand stroke the back of your palm, squeezing your hand sweetly, contrasting the precise and torturous motion he other fucking into you.

“A-Aki…f-fuck, please, agh..” you were spouting nonsense at this point, broken syllables and haughty moans the only thing you could manage. 

You weren’t sure, due to the overwhelming amount of sensation, but you would have been correct to think you felt Aki smile at the sound. Eventually you opted to just bring the hand you were holding to your mouth and bite down on one of his knuckles to stifle your voice. Aki filled with pride again feeling your teeth baring against the bones of his fingers. He uncurled his middle and forefingers pushing them past your lips and against your tongue. He had two fingers inside of you at both ends; he longed for more hands, he thanked genetics for his wingspan, he felt drunk, delirious, filled with a sense of purpose only to be compared to that of the divine. He needed to feel you clench around his fingers, needed to have the taste of your pleasure fill his mouth, he needed you. Your moans choked out from around his long, knuckly fingers, he hadn’t yet realized how hard he was becoming once again, precum dripping onto the mattress below him. He sucked again, hard, around your swollen clit, pulling a high squeal from you. Aki could feel your hole twitching around his fingers as they pistoned in and out, he curled them up more, just slightly, the way you had told him before. He wanted to show you he was a good listener, that he remembered how you liked him to please you, that he could please you. And he did. With the subtle adjustment your hands flew to his hair, gaping mouth allowing his fingers to drop from your mouth, drool following down your chin and neck. Your back arched from the mattress and your orgasm burst around you. You knew he was talented in this area, but this was something beyond, your mind went white, the only feeling encompassing you was pure ecstasy. 

Aki’s heart sang as you came from his efforts, his name leaving your lips with hot, panting breaths. He let you guide his head as you needed, keeping him in place as his tongue slowed but never stopped, gently taking you down from your peak. Finally you tugged his hair lightly, pulling his mouth away, a sparkling string of your arousal linked his wet lips to your still fluttering cunt. His neck and shoulders rippling under his skin as he came down from his own frenzy, eyes lidded as he watched you pant beneath him. His tongue swiped along his lower lip, not yet ready to be free from your taste. Seeing Aki, a man usually so put together, so refined and private, indulging in pleasure so openly, downright whorishly, was such a privilege. One you would not take for granted. Before you could luxuriate too much, Aki climbed up the mattress to lock you into a kiss again. His mouth was still wet, yours still tasted like him, the saliva exchanged between the two of you became the very essence of your shared climaxes. His tongue was an excellent and bold navigator as he explored your mouth. Sliding behind your teeth, licking right against your tongue the kisses became sloppier and messier. You hiked one leg over his hip, feeling his cock slide between your lower lips. 

“Ah-ahhh,” Hayakawa broke the kiss with a strangled protest and shuddered, burying his head in your neck. 

He squeezed your hip, keeping you from rocking him inside like you wanted to desperately. Pushing himself off of you he rushed to his discarded pants on the floor to retrieve a condom. Aki always wore a condom, you had told him that you were on birth control and made sure to keep yourself clean, but he insisted everytime. He had explained it had nothing to do with you, it was a personal thing, part of him needed the distance, even if it was barely a millimeter between himself and a partner. He could never allow himself to misstep; to risk carrying on his pain, to risk sharing it with you, to potentially let himself get too close— too comfortable. So the condom stayed on, and you wouldn’t press him about it anymore. 

He unwrapped and applied the condom efficiently, you secretly wished for more time to admire him. Handling his own cock, hissing as he rolled down the tight latex, adjusting it briefly before returning to bed. You seize the chance to push him onto his back and straddle his hips. He sat up half way to meet you, holding your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. 

“You’re so hot.” His hand circled the back of your neck, his lips moved over your neck and chest in frantic, wet kisses, “put me inside.” 

You were happy to oblige, reaching between your bodies and lining him up against your hole, his tip kissing your ring of muscle, already clenching in anticipation. Aki took your breast into his mouth as you lowered yourself down onto him. Thank god he did, or the moan he let out would have rung off the walls. You fared no better feeling his cock bottom out inside of you, curling against him, pulling at the hair on the nape of his neck, crying out his name. He felt so good inside of you; he was long enough to fill you, his girth wouldn't stretch you to the point of pain but Aki rarely wanted to hurt you. Even now, with his cock totally engulfed by you, he made sure to continue the sweet, intimate littering of kisses and suckling across your breasts. He loved your breasts, having them in his hands, in his mouth, he wouldn't admit it, it felt too juvenile, but often at work he found himself peeking down your shirt or watching how they swung or bounced as you walked. Aki sucked hard on your nipple and thrust upward into you further, you whined, pulling his hair harder. You started to move your hip, rising and falling in time with his own thrusts. Aki kept one hand wrapped around your waist and the other pawed freely at the meat of your ass; squeezing encouragingly as you rode him. Aki had his boundaries, which were important and you supported, but he never failed to fuck you like he was in love with you.He wasnt, you knew he wasnt, he knew he wasnt, but when he was inside of you he may as well have been. Fucking deep and slow, mouth watering against your skin, your name dripping off his swollen lips. He could have convinced you otherwise. His sounds soon transformed from low groans to shuddering whimpers as he grew closer and closer, he wasn't going to last. He wanted you to cum again before he did, he could feel the way you tightened around him when you came, and he needed it like he needed air. 

“baby…I-i’m not going to last.” His sweaty forehead pressed against your collarbone as you bounced on top of him, “please, please.”

He kept muttering please against you, you nodded your head frantically, unable to speak. His nails dug into your ass causing you to hiss, your hands on his shoulders mirrored this, gripping onto his traps for more support. You were so close already, but the desperation in his voice, his pleasing desire to feel you cum around him sent you over. Once again you felt yourself cum, your mind going blank, your movements becoming sloppy. Aki felt you flutter around him, and he pulled you down to meet his hips, drilling as deep as he could, holding you in place as he filled the condom. You two panted together, holding one another as close as you could, muscles trembling and contracting as the aftershocks came and went. Once you had come back to your body, you pressed a kiss to his forehead. 

“Aki…” you utter through a smile against him, you slide one hand down his back, feeling his clammy skin cooling, “You’re so good.” 

He had barely come down, still panting against your chest. He opted to nod, saving himself from the embarrassment of trying to speak. He placed one more kiss on the top of your left breast before starting to lift you up. You climbed off of him and buried your face into one of your pillows, the lingering shimmer of post coital bliss still encompassing you. He stood from the bed on only slightly trembling legs and removed the condom quickly, tying it at the end and discarding it in your bathroom. He fished his pack of cigarettes out of his pants pocket and cracked the bedroom window. You preferred not to smoke inside of your apartment, especially not in your own bedroom, but you always made an exception for after sex. He climbed back into bed with you and lit the cigarette, you stayed snuggling into your pillows and enjoying watching him. After a few drags he offered it, filter side forward, to you. You leaned forward taking a drag from his hand, his fingertips just barely brushed your lips. He inhaled just as you did, but when you exhaled smoke, he finally rid himself of his question. 

“What’s up with you and Kishibe?”

He watched your face carefully, looking for the slightest indication of frustration or fear or anything to tell him if he had overstepped. You sighed out, lingering smoke curling from your mouth. 

“We’ve been sleeping together for a few months. Since last September.” You answered. 

You prayed your heartbeat wasn't as able to be heard, that he couldn't see it pulsating in your chest, that you could keep this version of the conversation calm and collected. Aki let the new information wash over him, waiting for any emotion to overwhelm him. But his eyes remained even, his breath steady, his heartbeat was controlled. He looked over your bare, relaxed form before him, unable to keep his mind from superimposing the mentor’s own body next to yours. His hands sliding over the curve of your hip, down between your legs. Kissing your neck, which you so easily bared for him. Was he as rough on you privately as he was at work, harsh words and fast, brutal hands? Aki had been trained by Kishibe as you had, you both knew that he could be cruel, pushing beyond your limits with little care or warning. Aki felt himself tense confusingly at the prospect of you being brought to climax, or even tears, by Kishibe.  

“Aki?” 

Your voice snapped him back to the current moment, breaking his…fantasy? If it could be called that. It wasn't a nightmare, but he still couldn't parse out how he should feel about it. 

“Does that bother you?” You continued, trying your best to be patient with him, but frankly you were still a bit sore from how poorly things had gone with Kishibe, your anxiety was climbing faster than you could quell it. 

“Would it upset you if I said it did?” He shrugged, still not sure how to articulate his nebulous reaction. 

You moved to sit up, holding the pillow to cover your naked torso. Aki still pulled on his cigarette, not avoiding eye contact with you, he seemed relaxed still. For more than you did. 

You shook your head, but then shrugged yourself, “No, I guess I would understand if you are. I probably should have told you it was him. Considering something like this morning would happen eventually.” 

Aki remembered back to this morning, the curt, pointed way Kishibe had spoken to him hadn't seemed abnormal. Kishibe always carried the same detached, terse demeanor, so having been dismissed so readily had not raised any alarm bells. Maybe that was stupid of him, to have literally needed it to happen right in front of him in order to see the relationship between the two of you. Truly, he didn't think he had seen you guys interact one on one at work more than four or five times total. 

“I don't think it does. You don’t have to tell me anything you don't want me to know. We don’t talk about work that often anyway. If you want it to be private, that’s fine with me.” Aki took a long drag of his cigarette, looking through the window to direct the smoke outward into the dark city below your apartment. 

You were taken aback, completely stunned by how well he had taken this. You could see him processing the idea over and over in his head, but there was no malice or jealousy in his face or in his tone. Your attraction to them and a deep substance abuse problem may be the only thing he and Kishibe had in common.

“Did he tell you?” You dug deeper, watching as he studied the night sky outside, were you trying to get him agitated? 

Aki rested his head on the glass, turning to face you again, “No. I saw you kiss in your office.” 

Your skin cooled at the memory of Kishibe leaning down to you in your office, holding your hips and petting your hair. Despite the locked door, you knew it was risky to be physical at work, you should have known better. 

“Is there anything you want to know?” You offered. 

Aki considered this, not having expected to get this far with this conversation. As many scenarios as he had played in his mind on the train ride over he hadn’t imagined getting the chance to discuss the details of it with you. 

“How did it start? I never see you guys together.” He snubbed out his cigarette on the window frame. 

You pulled at the comforter absently, “There's not much of a story, honestly. A bunch of us were drinking at the bar, he asked to come back to my place afterward and I let him. I assumed it was just the one time but we saw each other the next week, and then the next, and…ya know. Here we are, I guess.” 

You pulled another cigarette from his pack, offering it to him, but he waved it off. Aki slid the window closed, moved back next to you in bed, sitting up against the pillows. You wanted to lay down next to him, rest your head on his chest and draw little patterns on his skin as the night crawled toward day, but you restrained yourself. Aki noticed your hesitation and opened his arm to you, ushering you closer, you sat closer, laying next to him. 

“I’m really not upset. I don't see what I should be upset about. I knew you were seeing someone else, I was just a little surprised this morning.” His voice resonated from his chest, he picked up your hand and held it in his.

His thumb worked over the back of your palm, but his eyes remained on yours, not flinching away from the intimacy nor the discomfort. 

“Does he know about me?” 

You nodded, “Yeah, he found out last night. We kind of…got into it.” 

Aki raised his eyebrows, “He was pissed?”

“Jealous, I think. He’s a little old school. He cooled off and came around this morning, that’s what our ‘meeting’ was about.” It felt good to air this stuff out to Aki, you hadn’t really spoken to anyone about the way your and Kishibe’s relationship worked, and maybe Aki wasn't the right person, but he was willing and curious so far. 

A sick sense of pride crawled up the back of Aki’s neck. To think about whatever he had done that had gotten under Kishibe’s skin had actually made him jealous to the point of conflict, was perversely gratifying. 

“Is he nice to you?” 

You were surprised at his question. Kishibe was pretty mean, he had a good heart, but he could be so gruff with people, especially at work, especially when he was training them. You were no stranger to having to mentally discount Kishibe’s office cruelty as him putting up the front that was demanded of him. Privately he could, occasionally, be tender and patient, allowing you glimpses into the sensitivity of a man who has spent his whole life trying to keep himself and his colleagues alive and safe. 

“In his own way.” You answered, not wanting to tarnish too much of the image Kishibe necessitated. 

Aki nodded, understandingly. He wasn't exactly a stranger to a messy work relationship with someone who was pretty mean, he got both the appeal and the discomfort of that. He looped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you down to lay on him, stroking your hair. 

“Then that’s fine with me.” Aki settled into bed, feeling the relief of having communicated his feelings, at least part of them, to you and it having gone well. 

You shared in his relief, kissing the side of his neck and sighing before reaching over to the nightstand to turn out the light. Darkness consumed the room, before your eyes adjusted to account for the moonlight. Aki’s breath was smooth and even, lulling you into sleep. His hands moved over your back soothingly. Sleep was taking you faster than expected, but you couldn't fight it any longer. Aki lay on his back looking up at your bedroom ceiling, listening to you. The blank expanse above the two of you served as a projection screen for his racing mind. The conversation had gone well, and he was grateful, but now he couldn't cease his curiosity. He thought back to the kiss he witnessed this morning, the way Kishibe had held your face in place to kiss you, such a clear demonstration of his dominance over you. The hungry, taunting look in his eye when he saw Hayakawa, daring him to step forward. Step forward and…what? Argue? Join? Aki squeezed his eyes shut, but it didn't help. Instead of clearing his mind, it spurred him further. He saw you on your knees pleasuring Kishibe with your mouth, the same way you did him just a few hours ago. But this time Kishibe thrust hard into your mouth, making you gag and tears slip from your eyes. He pictured himself taking you from behind as Kishibe covered your face in his cum, rough thumbs smearing it over your lips. Despite picturing Kishibe's hands on you, Aki felt as though he could feel them on his own lips, his own body. As if he could taste the pads of Kishibe’s fingers on his tongue. How many times had you kissed Aki after swallowing Kishibe’s release just the night before? How many traces of Kishibe lingered between your kisses? Had he already tasted Kishibe unknowingly? 

Aki felt saliva fill his mouth at the mere notion. What the hell was happening to him? His exhausted cock was starting to build itself back up again, he hadn't felt this insatiable in years, maybe ever. He wanted to sleep, he wanted to wake you up and fuck again, he wanted to leave, he wanted to stay, he didn’t know what the fuck he wanted. Or who. 

You woke up before Aki, which was unusual. On the nights you shared together, Aki would usually be awake before you, before the alarm even, making coffee, trying to stay as quiet as possible as you dozed. But this morning you rose from the bed, leaving him in what appeared to be a somewhat miserable slumber. You started the kettle heating and returned to the room to observe his stirring. His face was scrunched up, so much so that a small bit of blood had seeped from his reopened cut onto the pillow below him. You smoothed your thumb in between his furrowed brows, ironing out the growing elevens setting into his malleable skin. He appeared to relax before his eyes fluttered open. He took you in for a moment before, apparently, remembering where he was and sitting up. 

“Did I miss the alarm?” He stretched his neck side to side. 

“Just a bit, you looked like you were having a bad dream.”You smoothed his hair tenderly. 

Aki yawned, stretching his arms forward, “I don’t really remember. Thanks for waking me.”

“Coffees started, shouldn't be too long. Go ahead and shower, I’ll take care of it. We should change your bandage before we leave.” you stood back to your full height after kissing the site of injury. 

Aki nodded, rubbing his eyes and slinging his long legs over the edge of the bed. He watched you walk back into the kitchen and stood quickly, rushing to the bathroom. Once again he was more aroused than he thought possible. He had remembered this “bad dream” and it tortured him all night, cycles of barely sleeping and waking to reset the same dream again and again. You and him together, Kishibe watching. You and Kishibe together, Him watching. His lips on Kishibe’s neck. His hands guiding Kishibe into you. Kishibe holding Aki back as you pull an oversensitive climax from him as he bucks and whimpers in Kishibe’s hold. Kishibe kissing him, then kissing you, then you kissing him, then you kissing Kishibe. He thought he was going to pass out. His head felt full and groggy. He turned on the faucet of your shower, praying the cold water would rip the memory of the dream from him. It did not. He stood under the spray, looking upward praying to anything that could be listening to free him. Finally, he caves, wrapping one hand around his swollen, blood filled cock. Spitting down onto himself, Aki pumped himself in your shower as quickly as he could. Craving the shameful release. 

Back in the kitchen you finished preparing the coffee, splitting the pot into two mugs. You dressed yours the way you liked, keeping Aki’s black. The shower was running, he would be out soon and desperate for caffeine. You wondered about what had been troubling him, after last night had gone so well, you felt terrible thinking that maybe it hadn’t gone as well for him as it had for you. Maybe you should make breakfast. You peeked into your fridge and found nearly nothing, a half bottle of wine, a few condiments, a container of silken tofu. Not much to work with, even with the small portion of food left over from Aki’s cooking last night. A stop at the convenience store on the way to work, it is. You stepped through the bedroom into the bathroom when a sound made you stop cold. 

“F-fuck..” Aki moaned from the shower, your core throbbed at the sound.

You listened closer, hearing the rhythmic splashing water. Smiling wickedly at how dirty it was. How he must have woken up aching to be too shy to ask for your help. Before you could push into the room, pull back the curtain and join him, you heard one word that made your breath catch.

“oh…captain, please.” Aki whimpered, barely audible above the rushing shower. 

It took all the focus you had remaining to not drop the mug in your hand on the bathroom floor. Captain? Captain. You had heard him say Captain. No, not say-- moan, fucking whimper. Was he--? Could he be--? No. surely he wasn't--. You set the mug on the counter, its steam joining that of the quickly fogging mirror.

Part 3

[broodsys]

garden updateee (long post lmao)

peach tree first:

have harvested upwards of 50 peaches from it. have invited the neighbors to freely take peaches (don't think they have tho). have given peaches to my brother. so many are getting partly eaten by critters (i don't mind this)

probably have an additional 30-40 in the worm bin (partly eaten ones, gloopy ones, ones that were seriously damaged early on, etc)

ended up with two gallon bags full - and i mean full - of frozen peach slices and a good bit of peach sauce (well, i call it that, but it's really just cooked down/pureed peaches and a bit of sugar. it's good!)

could i have been more productive with it? yeah! however! wasn't expecting this at all! i cannot stress enough how much of a surprise this has been

after all the peaches have been harvested im gonna trim this poor tree down so hard. bc at present it isn't just bowing a bit under the weight, the main trunk goes up and up... and then starts coming sharply back down. roughly like so:

except with a lot more branches and all but yeah not actually drawing this lmao.

gonna try to espalier it a bit. there are lower branches that i'm going to be keeping and hopefully i can get some wire or something to give it some support, bc clearly during growing and harvest seasons it's gonna need that support. but i'm taking the height off... again, lmao. i've already done this!!!! it is growing so much

however, i think i know why. about midway through last year, we moved the worm bin over near it. and the worm bin has holes drilled in the bottom. so all those nutrients have been sinking into the soil and i think the peach tree was just like oh? nutrience? for me??? and went apeshit lmao

other garden news:

although i've mostly been talking about the peach tree, many things are going above and beyond. the rose bush out front is covered with rose hips that are probably about as wide as a half dollar? and it's grown to about halfway up the second floor. ridiculous. some of the canes are easily as wide as a quarter

we also have a grape. idk what type bc like the smartest person imaginable, i lost the tag. also i don't think it's ever gonna fruit but that is okay bc it is a sprawling beast and beautiful and it is sending vines up that are on the first floor roof

a lot of plants i have mostly to control temperatures indoors. so the rose bush covers the front of the house and some of the dark roof shingles, while the mystery tree and grape cover another part of the house. i was letting the peach tree get a bit taller to become a shade tree since it wasn't seeming to bear (but still not ridiculously tall!) but uh. A Mistake 😂

currently in the process of getting one of the many many manyyyy marionberry canes to root so that i can plant some in the backyard. it's very well established along the side yard and we get a ton of fruit from it, so why not just keep it going?

and we have a nectarine tree out back that's in its.... hmm. second or third year, but i think second. it's older than that, but in terms of being in our garden. so it's not bearing yet, no real surprise, and it's having some of the same issues the peach tree originally had, but the peach tree is no longer afflicted so i suspect the nectarine will end up okay as well

gonna be repositioning the metal gazebo frame (canvas top long since destroyed) into the center of the yard so that we can safely hang a new tarp from it and provide some central shade. looking forward to that, altho it'll be a lot of work. been using the water i saved up all during the rainy season and so far i still have a lot, which is nice - been doing a lot of water-wise planting and letting things get their own water and all. i've managed to keep the bucket pond going even tho the plastic is starting to crack and i'm dreading the eventual day the whole thing goes... sm life in there

but it's cracking bc the winters are getting so cold that the water freezes several inches down and expands, so it's like... rly tricky to deal with? debating about getting a solar powered water bubbler for it. just smth to keep the water moving a little bit and hopefully prevent it from freezing sm

i have mulched a tremendous amount this year, as i usually do. countless cardboard boxes - only plain ones, or ones with dyed parts removed, and always removing all the tape. forever trying to reuse stuff. there are still problem areas in the back and front yards, but some can't really be dealt with - like we have a lot of stray cats in the area and they sure do like to use yards as litter boxes 🙃like they're just gonna be here, it's a thing, but it does mean taking that into consideration wrt what/how we grow things

i keep getting frustrated and sad with how many things are dying out there but like. yeah. it's gonna happen. a) transplant shock is a thing, no matter how careful i try to be, b) it's hard to tell how heavily i should water things tbph, c) our soil is different all over the place, and the soil out front is very poor - which some things prefer! but definitely not all, and d) climate change. even hardy natives aren't necessarily hardy anymore, and over time native ranges seem to be shifting, so it's difficult

but i'm trying to not focus sm on what's dying and more on what's thriving, bc a bunch of stuff is :')

[topazadine]

Mistakes I Made When Self-Pubbing My First Book (Part 2: Presentation Edition)

"Don't judge a book by its cover" is utter bullshit because that is the #1 thing people do when purchasing a book.

This is the typical process someone will take when clicking on a book listing (though not everyone will do it in this order):

Look at the cover

Read the blurb

Check the reviews

Read a sample

Decide to download

Personally, I check the reviews before I look at the blurb if the cover has caught my attention, but I know many other people read the blurb first.

So you need to have these things locked down. I, being an idiot, did not have these things locked down before I decided to publish 9 Years Yearning. Let us examine my failures.

Making my own shitty cover instead of paying an artist

Now, a caveat.

A lot of self-pubbed writers are excellent graphic designers and really take the time to make a beautiful cover before they publish.

I'm not talking about these supernaturally blessed individuals who can do both. They have my utmost respect.

I'm talking about me, a person who has no design skills and can't draw for shit.

Here is the progression of my book cover.

The first one was made by me using an Unsplash stock photo on Canva. It's boring.

We can tell it's taking place in some rural area (Mongolia-ish, given that this is a photo of Mongolia), but what the hell else do we know about it? We don't see the characters or anything. It very much looks like your typical self-pub cover that the writer spent five minutes on. Shoddy and unprofessional.

The second one was purchased on Fiverr for like $50. It's cute, to be sure, and I'm not knocking the artist because they did exactly what they promised they would do. But it still doesn't tell us much about the story itself. Would do better for like a worldbuilding grimoire or something because it doesn't give us many details.

And now the third one is, in my opinion, absolutely gorgeous, and I will fight anyone who says otherwise. It captures the mood of the setting, shows the characters, and demonstrates that this is a fantasy novel through the fonts and character design.

The artist is Katarina on Fiverr, who will be doing the rest of my series as well. She truly understood the assignment and I am incredibly grateful to her. Katarina is also LOVELY to work with, so if you have a fantasy novel in the pipeline, you should really consider working with her.

My book sales took off significantly after I introduced the third cover. Not phenomenal, of course (why is not Katarina's fault), but definitely way better than before.

I could have gotten more sales if I had presented a good cover during the first 30 days of publishing, when Amazon gives new releases a little boost to help them along. Because I designed a shitty cover, I lost all of that extra marketing power. People were seeing my book, but they weren't clicking because they assumed self-pub = terrible. (Rightly so. A lot of self-pubbed books are terrible.)

But really, I was just a cheapskate. I figured I could just make my own cover and people would magically be attracted to it somehow, which was dumb of me. So I wasted a lot of time when I could have been making sales. I wasn't taking marketing seriously.

So, my tips to other self-pub writers:

If you're not capable of designing your own great cover, then work with an artist. Make sure the artist works in your specific genre, because there are different rules for each genre. Get comp images of other book covers you like to show the artist, or make a mockup (I'll show you one in a second). Very dark covers don't tend to sell well, especially ones in blues and greens. Even if you have a dark romance, try to lighten it up a bit. Fonts are incredibly important because they "prime" the reader to guess what kind of mood the story has. Don't clutter up the cover. Have two focus points, the most important text, and that's it.

For my second book, Pride Before a Fall, I provided Katarina with an incredibly shitty mockup of what I wanted (again, I am not an artist), as well as a ZIP file of the character, their clothing, the horse colorations, and so on.

This made it go much much faster because we weren't constantly messaging back and forth for edits. I only needed her to tweak two things: the clothes Orrinir was wearing and Erix's coloration (Horse 2 in the mockup).

Katrina put some of her own artistic vision into it, of course, but the spirit of what I was trying to show was absolutely there. I vastly prefer her version.

I'll be doing this with the third book as well, which has a slightly different vibe. I have the image in my head, and I just need to figure out how to put it on the page so she can make it better!

Writing a ~mysterious~ blurb

When I first published 9 Years Yearning, I had the same blurb for it as I have on the splash page for The Eirenic Verses:

Uileac Korviridi, student at the Bremish War Academy, expects to focus on his studies and protect his little sister - not fall in love with Orrinir Relickim, the hotheaded infantryman who can't seem to leave him alone.

Which is fine for a list of all the different books in the ten-part series. It is now included in the series list in the back matter for the second book, too.

But it doesn't really tell readers much about what they can expect from the book except that there's a boy, his little sister, and another guy.

It's too vague, too short, and too confusing. Most people would not click on something like that because they have no clue what to expect.

I also didn't need to include the name of the country; you need to avoid throwing too many fantasy names at readers right away or they start to shut down.

The blurb for 9 Years Yearning went through a lot of changes until its current iteration:

Uileac Korviridi, orphaned at age 11 during a raid on the family farm, cherishes the happy memories of living with his late parents. Fond reminiscences are all he has to comfort him in the stern confines of the War Academy, where young boys are trained to protect their besieged nation from a powerful enemy. Even as he forces enthusiasm for his military studies, he must balance his loyalty to his little sister, Cerie, who is training at the High Poetry Society to become a magical wordsmith. In contrast to Uileac's bucolic past, Orrinir Relickim is a former Future Boy: one given up to the War Academy by neglectful parents before enrolling in training. His life has been typified by invisibility, making him desperate to gain attention from anyone - especially Uileac. The two start as resentful quasi-enemies: Uileac despises Orrinir's success in their studies, while Orrinir resents Uileac's happy childhood and delicate looks. However, as they understand one another better, they cannot resist this pull they don't yet understand. What follows is a tale of teenage longing, with all the awkwardness and miscommunication it entails. Set in a sweeping world with poetry magic, 9 Years Yearning offers a brief glimpse into a beautiful country besieged by its enemies, constricted by a mountain range made with words. With lush descriptions, deep emotion, and lyrical prose, this novella sets the stage for grander conflicts in the 10-part Eirenic Verses series. Dive into a world where poetry makes power, seen through the eyes of two young men preparing for war.

It's probably not perfect, but it does have most of the components of a good blurb:

Quickly explains the main character's backstory, goals, and motivations.

Introduces the love interest and his backstory.

Explains the primary conflict without giving away too much.

Tells us what the vibe of the story is (teenagers growing up and being awkward).

Mentions one of the special things about the setting (High Poetry) but also makes it clear that this is not the primary focus (or it would have been put up front more). Readers can tell that it's going to be a background element that will probably be discussed in further detail later on in the series.

Discusses the themes, settings, and what readers can expect from the prose.

Tells readers that this is the beginning of a series.

Note that I did not include any review quotes. That's kind of controversial, but honestly? I don't pay attention to those when reading a blurb unless I immediately recognize the quoted person's name.

Since I don't have a big name reviewing my novel, I'm not going to include opinions from people no one knows. I also know that people can pay to get those quotes and they're not always genuine; they're cherry-picked.

The blurb is crucial for getting readers who like your cover to spend money on the book. You must show that you're a great writer and provide them details about what they can expect. A highly polished, engaging blurb that is descriptive but not spoilery will intrigue people.

Not making enough graphics and visuals

People like visual advertisements more than they like giant walls of text.

It's why advertisers moved away from things like this ....

To things like this ....

Of course, 1920s magazines were not printed in full color, so they couldn't have the bright vibrant reds of the 2020s ads, but the layout is what is important.

Current advertisements don't have a lot of text because humans are visual creatures. Great book advertisements are the same.

Now, obviously I do not have the budget or star power of these authors and marketing agencies, but that doesn't mean I can't do something what I do have. Which is access to Canva and my book covers.

But I did not do that with my first book. I didn't do any visuals at all. Instead, I just threw the link around everywhere and expected people to click on it. Which is pretty dumb tbh. Of course no one's going to click on a random link that you didn't explain anything about! We've all been Rickrolled at least once!

And then I got no sales and was sad about it and realized I was dumb to do that.

I am fixing that with Pride Before a Fall. I changed all my socials to have a banner for my book, including just a few words.

Excellent, marketing agency quality? No, of course not. But it's something visual anyway. It's clear that I put some thought into it, that I have a professional cover, and I'm pretty clear with what I want you to do: preorder the fucking thing by January 1st.

And again, I'm picking up some preorders already. I expect that as I continue to produce more visuals, I'll get more preorders. And, of course, my upcoming ARC campaign will help too.

I have seen some artists do little videos for their books which look pretty interesting. I will likely do this when I'm a bit further along in the series by working with a visual artist, but I'm not quite there yet. Soon, though.

So that is part two of my series on my failures. Part 3 will go into depth about the importance of reviews and how not to go about getting them.

And if you made it this far, maybe you'll consider buying my book, which is somehow good despite all my failures!

Please do not forget to leave a review! It's essential, as I will explain in Part 3. And I have heard that those who leave reviews for self-pubbed authors are more likely to find a really nice crunchy leaf on their next walk. mmm mcrunnchyy

[cozza-frenzy]

Systober Day 19 - Draw How You Imagine Your Disorder

Well, this is what we drew for Day 19. Sort of just unleashed everything we had on the canvas. Does it make any sense? Probably not, but then, neither do a lot of things about this disorder. A part of us noticed something was wrong, and for 30 years they kept everything suppressed. For 30 years we waved off our symptoms - we just have a bad memory, it's better that we don't remember things that upset us. It's normal that the body doesn't feel like us, we just have low self-esteem. We have phantom sensations because our imagination is overactive. We pick up and drop interests regularly because we're autistic. The fact that we've lost skills we've learned is just because we aren't trying hard enough. A long-time friend of ours who knows about us said, looking back, he didn't know which (our name) she was going to talk to today. He just thought we were quirky - "that's just who (our name) is". She didn't know that we didn't know who we were. It's not all bad, honestly. Knowing we're this way has finally given us some control over the constant, random assaults of emotions, memories, and impulses that turned out to be our alters. We see ourselves as a collective; as the sum of all our parts and everyone's experiences, separate but working together. We've found ways to love each other that we never had for most of our life, and care for each other in the ways we've always needed. We have the support of our friends and found family. We're slowly learning the difference between staying alive and actually living. We'll get there eventually. - Terry

[dirtyoldmanhole]

i think another neat thing about gunter is that he feels lived in

both in a 'has had a full life' sense and also physically

especially for a series like FE which has been more inspired by anime as of late and skews much younger in terms of cast. (i'd say at least 95% of FE characters are under their thirties).

and idek

not to sound like an old fart myself being 30+ but i find myself craving that complexity you only get with the added decades on each other? god i've forgotten it now but there was such a cool post on tumblr talking about how characters and people get more specific as they get older as they accumulate experiences, and that stayed with me, they're not such a blank slate, they're harder for some people to just randomly project onto and that can be why they draw both intensely positive but also intensely negative reactions. the especially neat characters to me, like gunter, are sharply specific in ways that they won't apologize for. i like that.

and then physically, lord i hesitate to say this out loud b/c i know i genuinely sound cracked as fuck but his knobby knuckles are beautiful, that wispy grey-lilac hair is beautiful, the scar is too, the creases, on and on-

and it's not even strictly in an aesthetic or erotic sense but also that sense as an artist of craving texture, i'm one of those weirdo artists that only feels like i'm doing shit right when it feels like real people are intentionally alert and breathing my pictures? body language especially being my go-to, but texture's another one, where's the creases, how to draw that specific cheek caress of lovers who treasure each other b/c they've loved and lost

you know, little details you only get with a full canvas of life

(in that sense you'd think, gee krad, you really should look at live-action peeps they're the ones to have wrinkles n shit :P unfortunately for me i'm more endeared the absolute brain dead pulpy exaggerated plots that anime tends to have which.... in the other direction, skews muuuuch younger in terms of the cast. ya can't win)

i also have this weird thing of really liking only mediums that are "drawn" b/c even if 60% of it is boring-most things read to me as boring these days- then sometimes at least the drawings are neat to study, and real people actors give me uncanny valley vibes. it's why i'm having a lot of fun with jim henson muppet style shows these days like farscape since it mixes the anime goofy vibes with the weirdly sentimental lived in vibes.

anyway