#GUYS I DID UP MY PINNED LOOK AT IT ITS ALL FANCY NOW

[red-might-be-dead]

HI!!! i'm red :D!!! i go by he/him/her!!

#red rambles relentlessly - general text post/ talk tag

#red art - art tag (also-> #dumb art - where i post my stupid not art art)

#red writes - where i talk about writing (not a lot of actual proper writing at all lmao)

#asks - asks!!

#red hall of fame - posts of mine that i think are super silly :3 (not much in there tbh)

#original character - for strictly oc textposts/art, each oc is tagged by first name under relevant posts and i have a shit ton so i’m not gonna add them all here :3

fandom vaugetags under the cut :33

#kprcmp - when i get silly about keeperschampion (happens often)

#shiloposting… sigh - when i get super duper NORMAL. about shilo (FAGGOTRY WARNING!!!)

#not megumi too :// - BEING NORMAL AND SANE AND FINE AND VERY STRAIGHT. (faggotry warning again…)

I MIISSS HIMMM!!

[ilovecatilinclark]

Loveeeeeee Song

Kelsey Plum x Reader

Based off Loveeeeeee song by Rihanna and Future

AN: I hope you guys enjoy this!

Oh baby I'm not asking for the world,maybe you can give me what I want, baby

You've been crushing on her for some time. Well maybe not some time more like since you've played against her in college. "Hey Kelsey" you said to her as practice finished. "Yeah whats up" Kelsey said panting while holding the ball. "Do you wanna maybe go out for dinner with me its on me" you said trying to be smooth. "Of course but can I invite the team" before you could respond and stuff she was calling over the team and inviting them to join you and her later. You just wanted to go out with her but now it led to this. Having a fancy dinner with your whole team while you were cursing yourself for not responding faster. You loved your team, but sometimes you just wanted some alone time with her so you could make a move finally. You weren't asking for much but clearly it seemed like it was when you would talk to her.

Come hold me tight and when I'm drowning, save me give it too me on a daily.

Soon after the dinner everyone soon went to your house to just hangout for a bit. You soon decided to get everyone drinks and went to your wine storage. As Kelsey came behind you holding your waist tightly. Your cheeks soon turned bright red, but you continued to grab the wine and pour it as she opened her mouth. "Thanks for buying dinner it was really nice" "of course" you replied back blushing. you didn't want this moment to end with her hands on your waist while you pouring wine. The way her arms wrapped so nicely and perfect around your waist.

If I'm your girl, say my name boy, let me know I'm in control

As you guys came back to your living room with her arm around you, the team decided to joke about how you guys would look like such a cute couple. You tried to laugh it awkwardly off and try to change the topic. But Kelsey had other things in mind gripping your waist harder as she was holding her wine in her other hand. Soon after serval drinks and card games against everyone, everyone was drunk. Expects for some other teammates. You were a touchy drunk and you were getting all touchy with your team mates till it came to Kelsey.

Pinning her down on the couch with weak arms and wrapping your hands around her waist. You both stared at each other longing for each other wanting a kiss from each other"say my name Kelsey, let me know I'm in control right now" you said with the words slurring out your mouth. She knew what she was doing even in this state saying it slowly. Before she could finish your lips crashed on hers, little did you know it would soon turn into a heated make out in front of your teammates.

We both grown so how we feel we can let it show

Soon waking up on your couch with everyone, you quickly went up to get some water from the intense hangover you were having. Trying to not be so loud as everyone was sleeping either in one of your guest room or your room. As the more time passed more people came down, clearly there was tension though. You couldn't put your finger on it, but clearly it was Kelsey and you. Clearly after that night there was something going on but clearly she didn't wanna talk about it or show it. You were both grown so what was the problem.

(I-I-I) won't play around (I-I-I) I wanna lay you down (I-I-I) I need you now, I need you now, oh-oh, oh

The following day after that after practice you guys were at the club. You felt a pair of eyes staring hard at you, turning around you notice it was none other Kelsey plum. She clearly irritated, you couldn't tell if it was because you decided to also avoid her in practice today or if it was because there was a guy that kept putting his hands on you. She quickly came up to you towering over you a bit. "don't play with me y/n" she said irritated. "what do you mean I'm not doing anything" you said back. "you know what your doing" Kelsey replied back "No I don't you replied.

"You can't be jealous right now where not even together you've also been ignoring me" you said already getting angrier. "I'm only ignoring you because I cant stop thinking about that night we shared that kiss" she said then taking a deep breathe she said quietly. "I'm only ignoring you because every time I look at you I want you more it doesn't even feel like a want anymore it feels like I need you" she said her cheeks turning red.

 don't wanna give you the wrong impression

"I just wasn't sure what you were thinking so I gave you some time to think so I wouldn't just shoot my shot and having the wrong impression of your feelings for me" she said back. you stood in the bar shocked, you didn't know what to do or feel right now in this moment. You were so shocked but so happy, she finally has the same feelings for you after a long time of pinning over her.

I need love and affection And I hope I'm not sounding too desperate I need love and affection

you wanted this for along time and you always desired love, you tried to tell her your true feelings. But you were also a bit skeptical not wanting to try to sound desperate for her. So instead you did what your mind could think of first, you grabbed her face and kissed her. Tasting the alcohol she just drank, having a sloppy kiss but feeling so refresh knowing you both want this. As you were about to pull away she pulled you back into the kiss gripping your waist hard and trying to assert dominance too slowly backing the both of you into a wall. She soon then pulled away "be my girl" she said as she smiled at you.

[jellymish-art]

IT IS HAPPENING LADS!! SAM VIMES COSPLAY!!

I've dreamed of doing this for years and now that I've finally gained the Secret Knowledge of Foam Armour, I can finally go for it!

Jokes aside, I asked a couple of cosplay pros for advice at the last con and they were all super nice & answered every single one of my questions, in detail!

So far the breastplate, backplate and badge are done and I'm super happy. Detailed process under the cut!

How it went:

First, the pattern! Shoutout to the guys at cosplay-atelier for the recommendation. They pointed me to kamuicosplay, because they sell downloadable patterns for all sorts of things, including armour. Which is how I got to this:

Downloaded two of their breastplate patterns, smooshed them together and altered them to fit my body and the look I wanted. I did all of that with thick paper. Then I took it apart again and traced the bits onto 5mm EVA foam that I ordered from a cosplay store.

Then I numbered and cut all the pieces and glued them together! I used hot glue, cause it's more accessible and less intimidating for me than other types of glue. It isn't as strong as other recommended glues, but works fine for me. (used many pointers from this tutorial.)

However, safety point: I've seen it recommended to wear breathing protection when heating up foam in any way whatsoever, and that includes hot glue, heat shaping and heat sealing. Use a respirator or other breathing protection that is made specifically for chemical fumes & work outside or in a well ventilated area (i.e. open ALL the windows)! Ask at your local hardware store if you're unsure.

PSA over. Now to the painting stage!

The scratches I made with my fingernails and the tip of a pair of scissors. XD Then I covered everything in 2 layers of black flexipaint (which is a water-based flexible paint/primer that works really well on foam). After that, I worked with regular artist's acrylic paint. Above you can see the first layer being applied with dry-brushing.

Then I went over it with a dark brown wash to make it look dirty (mix black & brown acrylic paint with water & apply liberally)

Then I went over it again with bronze by applying the paint with my fingers, wearing a plastic glove. (Same tutorial as before.) making sure I don't get any paint in the scratches. And then finally, another dark brown wash to make it all look nicely weathered. I did accidentally remove some paint by going over it too often with the wash, but it wasn't too hard to fix.

And this is the costume test, after adding velcro! It's really easy to put on and take off. I'm a bit worried about the velcro on the sides, but I can always add straps on the outside if it doesn't hold up.

Next was the badge:

I referenced a pin badge that came out as a collectible a few years ago (sadly out of stock), cause I love the design! Carved in the letters and lines by drawing on it with a ballpoint pen and applying a lot of pressure. Then painted it with the same process as the breastplate, just with copper instead of bronze.

And just for funsies: here's the back of the breastplate in all its glorious mess XD

On the right side you can see how I attached the badge: By cutting a slit through the breastplate and making a velcro attachment. That way I can remove the badge and add, say, a sprig of lilac, should my fancy take me there. Reason being that our biggest con is in May.

If you know, you know.

Annnnd here it is; the finished breastplate with badge:

I'm honestly having the time of my life. It's a super fun project and I am very excited to see how it turns out! I'm already working on the cape with a good friend of mine (I despise sewing, she loves it XD) and have materials on the way to make some bits of chainmail.

[z3r0sthing]

Love drink!

🔞MDNI🔞

^[anyone under 18 do not read!]

Bakugo

༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺

"Have fun, bro.. She's gonna be all over ya in a minute." Bakugos friend whispered in his ear and laughed as he ran away. His friend gave you this bubbly peach drink that you had no idea what its called, but it looked delicious. You were currently sitting on bakugos lap, you were at a his friends very fancy pool party, it was pretty dark and everyone was running around, jumping in the pool. You were wearing a cute but small bikini while he just wore swimming shorts. Just you and your boyfriend laying on a lounge chair as he caresses your thighs. You were just drinking the bubbly soda like drink that his friend gave you and it was rather tasty, a sweet peach flavor, an after taste of something sparkly. So it wasn't a soda, more like a peachy sparkling water.

|

Only a few minutes later you were getting hot, squirming in bakugos lap to get cooler but it didn't work so well, your pussy was also throbbing. He noticed, how wouldn't he after feeling your small body squirming in his lap. "Hm? What's wrong?" His voice sounding a bit worried but he didn't think so much about it. You moved you head up to look at his face, his lips looked so close but so far, you grabbed his cheeks and gave him some kisses, it made your cunt throb even more. They were sloppy but it's not like he didn't enjoy it, he quickly pulled away and was staring at you. He enjoyed the kisses but it was a bit sudden. "What are you doing?" He sounded like he was annoyed by your sudden kisses but you knew he enjoyed them either way. "You taste good.. I want more.." Just thinking about him was making you horny, it came out of nowhere. You laid back on him, pressing your ass on his for now soft length, you wanted him so bad and he could tell.

|

He dragged you to a bathroom with nobody seeing, he placed you on the counter and locked the door behind him. "Whats wi-" He was quickly interrupted by you dropping to your knees and stripping off his shorts, taking his now erect cock in hand right above your lips. "Babe.. You wanna get caught, dont you?" He sounded horny himself now. You opened your mouth and took in his tip, swirling your tongue around it and licking the beads of pre-cum. He let out a soft groan as he held the back of your head. "Fuck.." He cursed under his breath as he pulled his head back. You slowly took more and more of his length as he kept groaning, bobbing your head up and down slowly in a good pace. His hand moving your head for you, groaning and moaning. "Good girl.." His voice was deep, he was obviously enjoying how you sucked on his length.

|

He was fucking you mouth, you managed to be pinned by the door by his cock. He was hitting the back of your throat repeatedly as if he was pounding your cunt, your warm and sticky mouth was sucking his cock like a suction cup. You were gagging at how big he was in your mouth, thick and meaty. "You better swallow everything, you slut" he was thrusting into your mouth mercilessly, feeling your mouth with his cock as he was cumming. He thrusted just once more and exploded in your mouth, he let out a long and breathy moan as her felt you swallow his seed. He slowly pulled out of your mouth, lifting up your chin with his fingers, putting his thumb in your mouth to make sure you swallowed all of him. "Such a slut, aren't you." He chuckled as he looked into your lust filled eyes of yours. "Your going to scare away my energy by doing that.." He chuckled as he placed you on the counter.

|

Moaning out pants like a dog, he was slamming his thick length in your wet cunt, legs in the arm as you pushed your fingers on his lower stomach near his fat cock was. A lot of people could probably hear you but it wasn't like you weren't the only two having sex, I mean that guy did give half of all the girls that drink. Bakugo was sliding in and out, slamming his hips into yours, it felt so good, like you were hypnotized by his cock. There was a ring of slick on his cock from pounding into you, so wet for him. With a few final thrusts he came into your sweet hole, making you scream as he buried himself deep inside you while you squirted your liquids on his throbbing length. Your energy gave out, laying flat on the counter with your pussy still spitting out juices. "You did so good for me.."

|

Later on when you both managed to get home, you turned back to normal. Sleeping on bakugos chest while he was scrolling through Snapchat. Supposingly his friend that gave you the peachy sparkling drink put a pill that was made for you to be horny to most of the girls at the party. Bakugo was pretty pissed off by his friend giving you something drugged but he was also grateful to have that to have some sex with you. He will never be disappointed in fucking you brainless.

[thenon-fictiondays]

Hirano to Kagiura light novel translation 4-4

Chapter 4: Fall.

Part 4

Prev || Next

At long last, tomorrow is the day of the cultural festival.

He’d thought they’d definitely stay late after school to prepare on the eve of the festival, but by rule of the student council, everyone had gone home at the same time today.

It can be said that this policy, which makes no allowances for the classes that were unable to finish their preparations in the time allotted, is typical of a school that values autonomy.

Even the culture clubs’ practices are restricted, and extracurricular activities are also entirely forbidden.

Thanks to that, Kagiura has been on pins and needles. Even though he’d tried to study in his room to suppress his flighty nerves, he can’t make himself focus on English vocabulary at all. Numerical formulas are somehow even more impossible.

Such being the case, he has since been reading a basketball magazine he subscribes to.

“Hey, you like cookies?”

At the sound of Hirano’s voice, Kagiura’s head snaps up.

“Yeah, I like ‘em!”

“Cool. I’ve got some left over that we made in home ec today; you want one?”

As he passes over a cookie, he adds, “I forgot all about them.”

Kagiura would’ve thought it’d just be the round type, but it’s the type of cookie with two colors so you can break it into pieces cleanly. It’s amazing. It looks especially good. 

“Sure, I’ll take it!”

Male students’ homemade sweets are even more of a rarity than their homemade cooking.

Kagiura had made drop candy in his elementary school cooking class, which was his one and only experience in the subject.

“It’s all yours. There was one that Sasaki made, that he made look like a cat’s face, kind of like a tuxedo cat? It was super fancy. Should’ve taken a picture.”

“Did you make this one?”

“Yeah. We used the same dough, though.”

“I think yours is beautiful.”

“Huh? …Oh, haha, thanks. I kinda feel like you’re saying that to make me feel better, but I wasn’t trying to fish for compliments.”

“...Can I eat it now?”

It’ll be dinnertime soon.

“Ah…well, it’ll be our little secret. I’ll eat some, too.”

To Kagiura’s surprise, he puts a finger to his lips in the universal shh gesture.

Gguhh, Kagiura chokes on the cookie he’s already put in his mouth.

“What’s wrong?!”

From hanging out together for half a year, he should know that Hirano’s a soft person by nature, but he still can’t get over it.

“Th- the cookie got into my organs…”

“The fuck?!”

He likes him…maybe.

It shouldn’t leave the realm of maybe yet.

“Th- they were so tasty I kinda ate them too fast…”

Hirano bursts out laughing at his attempt to save face.

This guy laughs so much!

“Hahaha…Gotcha, I’m glad then, ahahaha.”

“Jeez, it’s not that funny!”

He covers his face with the open magazine, protesting that he’s already embarrassed enough, but Hirano’s still laughing as he apologizes.

“Damn. You know, if I ever get married, I hope I find someone who wears their heart on their sleeve like you do.”

At that moment, it’s as if time has stopped.

“.......?!”

Kagiura freezes, the basketball magazine falling from his hands.

“Oh, it’s dinnertime. Let’s go.”

Does he not realize what he just said?

No respect for the fact that he’s just taken Kagiura out in one hit.

Still in shock, Kagiura heads out for dinner slightly behind.

*****

On the long-awaited festival day, the skies are so clear it’s almost too hot.

Inside, the school is teeming with people.

As one would expect of the one day when even current students are allowed to wear casual clothes, there’s color everywhere you look.

Kagiura is wearing the original T-shirt his class had ordered.

The orange uniform, printed with the word “yakitori” and a drawing of meat skewers, stands out quite a bit for its simplicity.

Even as he’d listened to his classmates complain that they didn’t know what kind of casual clothes to wear at school, Kagiura had just figured “it’s hot, so a t-shirt is the only way to go”. But on the day of, he sort of understands how they feel.

The school where they spend all their time in uniforms is suddenly awash with all sorts of outfits. Just this fact is enough to make the vibe a little jittery, like they’re cutting loose.

Even Kagiura, who’s used to wearing casual clothes in the dorms, feels that way, so the students who commute from home probably feel even more out of place.

This time last year, Kagiura, whose choices of cram schools hadn’t been few, had not yet decided his future plans. As a result, he didn’t come to last year’s cultural festival, although it had been a perfect day to visit the school.

Everything he’s seeing is new to him, and although he’s been watching it all come together, each new wonder just deepens his excitement.

And of course, all of the food looks delicious.

Before noon, when he goes to visit Hirano’s class, cultural festival pamphlet in hand, Hirano soon appears, dressed in his favorite white T-shirt.

He lets Kagiura decide their itinerary, since “it’s my second year at this”.

They walk past someone holding up a sign that reads “Cheesy yakisoba in the courtyard!!”

He may be a rival in the Courtyard Stall battle, but Kagiura plans to go buy from them later.

The line for the yakitori stand is quite long; it’s grown from the time Kagiura was managing the stall in the morning.

After they get through the line and are handed a cup of yakitori, Kagiura takes them here and there, tugging at Hirano’s arm.

*****

Prev || Next

✨ANNOUNCEMENT✨

As I've been winding down work on the novel, seeing all yalls comments and support made me super emotional, and I wanted to do something to show my thanks. So I've decided to host a lil giveaway for everyone who's been following along with these updates and sharing your thoughts and reactions with me! I'll make a separate post with more details but I wanted to talk about it on one of the updates since I figured a separate post would just get buried lmao

And as always a very heartfelt thank you to my reading list members @jeizet, @jujupanic, @massyworld, @umbreonwolfy, @acidsuzanne-blog, @neoday, @lary-the-lizard, @tsmginc much love as always ✨

[obscureother]

🌑 ˚x'˙ intro. . ??

Hello. . !! im new to tumblr, so sorry if wonky things happen while im setting this up. im still trying to figure things out guys-

i lurk on other accounts for general content but im closeted n shy so i made this one to yell about things instead so i don’t expose myself to people i know lolol

if you know or find other profiles i own, i request you not expose it for those reasons before im comfortable to.

so this is just an f/o blog/journaling. . thing. I'm not entirely sure what content will be here, but it will be centered around f/os, self-shipping, and its just to give me a place to yell about the people that live in my/your brain rent-free and know they don’t exist but we pretend they do anyway for comfort reasons and serotonin, dopamine, uhh what other things feel good and ok??

some of it will be for you if I happen to think of something, other times it is for me to explode over my fixation f/os!!

youre also welcome to come yell about your f/os if you just need someone to talk to them about!! dont think i know em?? COME OVER and INTRODUCE THEM. you can come in DMs, asks, or however you want to!! id be happy to know your f/o or listen to you talk about them if no one else will :00

This is a comfort blog to me, so there wont be any room for meanness or intended offenses here. Dont come to me with troublesome things or somehow twist/morph my content into something its not, we're just here to have a cool time with our fictional people, bro. . :((

ok who r you tho:

To be honest, I don’t have a name or something to go by as of posting this, I might get one later or just make a new comment all fancy for the pin. . For now you can just call me whatever you deem good or just go off my blog/username!! Don’t be mean tho. i may take one you guys think of or figure it out on my own.

they/them

im 21 yo. (if youre a minor, i dont mind you coming to say hello, but do look below the other stuff content for what you need to look out for. you should also know some of you goofy kiddos have energies i dont know how to respond to sometimes, so dont worry if i get awkward or something, its not your fault lolol.)

im in college, so forgive me if im slow, im also just not on tumblr very often :v i dont ghost people on purpose i swEaR-

i might post my f/os on a whole list, idk yet, but theyll prolly be mentioned sometimes to the very least. you can def ask of them tho!! (edited: i made an f/o list if you want to see them.)

i dont know if ill post content of my own f/os or me/my sona for them, but it could be there.

i dont mind sharing f/os!! id love to yell about them together. if you dont like that, then its ok!! i either wont talk about them with you so you can be their person when we talk of them, or you can just block/not interact. ill be sad i dont get to meet you, but its ok.

other stuff:

Nothing explicit/detailed will normally be posted. but: The worst there will be is just being hormonally silly from kind of "rrr ovaries go brr, chew on theM-" energy of my f/os. i will try to create a tag to mark it with so you can exclude honky content if you want or need to later, tho. from what i know, you can "block" tags. . so i think that will work if you like the other goofy stuff on the blog??

(edited: I DID IT, I DID THEM, LOOK: 🌑obscure tags list for the obscure blog )

NSFW talk can be in DMs, tho.

DO NOT come to me with those concepts if youre a minor tho, oh dear GOD. honky grown-up talk is not for you goofy child-folk.

LGBTQ+ friendly!! im nonbinary and love everybody. youre ok too. 💙

i do roleplay sometimes, but only in dms n please dont go exposing our roleplays to others. . i would be very not comfy :"0

if you want to roleplay, you can dm me to ask but i dont have to say yes or i might not be able to. im slow too dfsdf=

i may or may not make a side blog once i figure out how to do stuff, but know that until then, im going to just post whatever on this one til i know how to do things on tumblr lolol.

forgive me if some of my content gets deleted, edited, whatever as we go. like i said, this whole thing is very new to me and its not very organized for now. its just there. its gonna get wonky over here on my side for a bit.

• tiny bat gif •

[archiveoftara]

Dilemma

Part 1

"How do I look?"

You stood there fidgeting with your necklace.

Lucy let out a small gasp, "Absolutely stunning."

You stared at your reflection, admiring the fabric clinging to your curves. You'd bought this little black dress ages ago, its hem stopping just above the knee. Shyness had always kept you from wearing it, but Lucy insisted you put it on tonight.

"By the way, what's the occasion anyway?"

"Oh you will soon find out."

"Lucy. Y/n" George yells from downstairs.

"We're getting late."

You bid your friends goodbye as you leave for the mystery place.

After a peaceful taxi ride, you find yourself standing in front of a fancy restaurant.

Am I at the right place?

A rush of cool air hit your face as you stepped into the restaurant. You felt your heart pounding against your ribs. You took another moment to calm yourself while you took a quick scan of the room.

And then, you saw a familiar wave cutting through the sea of faces. Your eyebrows shot up in surprise.

Anthony Lockwood? What is he doing here?

"Lockwood?"

"Y/n." His voice, rich and warm, cut through the low hum of the restaurant.

He pulled out a chair with a smooth, practiced motion, the epitome of old-world charm. Classic Lockwood

"You look ravishing."

A warm blush crept onto your cheeks as you whispered a small "thank you" to Lockwood. His eyes, intense and captivating, held yours for a moment too long, making you feel both flattered and a little overwhelmed. You forced yourself to look away or else you would have a heart attack.

"So do you, Lockwood," you compliment the handsome agent. He's always in formals, but today he looks different. Dashing and hot in a deep navy blue suit with a white shirt and a silver tie.

"So it's just you and me I guess."

"Just you and me." He said.

Little did you know, your best friends were perched like hawks at a nearby table, their eyes glued to your every move.

"What would you like to have?"

With a peaceful dinner and plenty of laughter and conversation, you felt incredibly happy to be spending time alone with him. It might be the first time you've found yourself in his company without interruptions from your other friends. You don't want to seem ungrateful, but you're actually really enjoying his company.

The fellow agents' eyes were locked on Lockwood, their silent demands echoing across the room. George and Lucy, their faces etched with urgency, were subtly urging him to spill the beans. A cold sweat broke out on Lockwood's brow as he met their intense gaze, his throat suddenly parched.

"I've been meaning to tell you something for a really long time"

"Yeah, go ahead." You smiled.

He took a deep breath and began

"Y/N, I've been trying to find the right words for what feels like forever." He takes your hand. "Every time I look at you, my mind goes blank. From the moment you walked into my life, I've been captivated by your laugh, your intelligence, everything. I've admired you from afar, but now I can't pretend anymore. I'm in love with you. Will you please give me a chance?"

Your heart pounded in your ears.

Lockwood? LOCKWOOD?

The words hung in the air, thick with disbelief. Your hotshot, clumsy boss was confessing his love? Your mind raced as you tried to process the shock.

A lump formed in your throat as a tear escaped your eye. Managing a small nod, you tried to compose yourself.

"YES!"

You turn around to find Lucy practically levitating in her seat, her eyes wide with excitement. George wore a smug face that said it all.

"What are you guys doing here?"

"Finally we are free from all the yearning and pinning." Lucy sat beside you.

"Congrats mate, you finally became a man and confessed." George pats Lockwood's shoulder.

"It was all your plan?"

"We're so sorry for lying to you," George started, his face flushed. Lucy nodded frantically. "We had no choice. Lockwood here is a bigger scaredy-cat than a kitten."

A soft smile touched your lips. The shock was slowly replaced by a warmth that was both unexpected and comforting.

Your eyes met his, and in that moment, you saw a side of him you never saw before.

And there, in that moment, amidst the chaos and laughter, something sparked.

Maybe, just maybe, this could be the start of something beautiful.

I'm sorry it's not the best ending. I'll try better next time. I hope you enjoyed it and feel free to leave a comment. I love talking to you. I'll see you in the next chapter. Love you xoxo 😘😘

Word count: 794

[pendragon-writes]

𝒮𝒾𝑔𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈. 𝒲𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈? 𝒜𝒹𝑜𝓅𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝓅𝒶𝓅𝑒𝓇𝓈.

Marc Spector x Avatar!Teen!Male!Reader

Requested: Yes

Part 1/2

Next (Coming soon)

TW: Typical Vigilante/Marvel Violence, Bullying, Mentions of Blood

AN: I am not too familiar with their personality I want to apologize if I accidentally made them OOC. Also, I do not have DID so if I interpreted anything wrong please let me know ASAP

Well, this wasn't exactly the plan. Sure the plan may have been to infiltrate this very fancy auction but it wasn't your intention for a shootout to start. Quickly you turned to Anubis awaiting his instructions. "Now what?" He turned to you and motioned to the window behind the stolen artifact. "Grab the artifact and jump through that window". You sighed, quietly wondering how high the drop would be. "Well can you at least tell me if I can land on anything there?" Anubis walked to the window to see a pickup truck with tons of rugs in the back, when he returned to you he responded. That was the only confirmation you needed.

As you leaped forward you knocked one of the men down with a baton and the other with a random champagne glass. There were two more guards who were reloading their guns, if you made a run for it you could break the glass and jump to the truck. Just as you grabbed the artifact you noticed a man with curly dark hair and a black shirt watching as you broke the glass with your bo staff, threw a smoke bomb, and jumped. Once you landed you turned your head to see the man from before watching you from the broken window with the moon god himself Khonshu.

Marc Pov

He looked down from his spot as he watched the mysterious masked Avatar get away with what appeared to be a Jackal man. "That masked guy was an avatar right, Khonshu?" he asked him. Khonshu grumbled confirming his suspicions, muttering something about him being the god of death and being named Anubis. Since there was nothing he could do since Anubi's avatar was long gone.

°。°。°。°。°。°。

It was the next day and his hunt continued, after searching endlessly he spotted the masked person entering a building with a shadow that appeared to look like a dog not far behind. Apparently, this specific building they were breaking into was another auction but this one had the 'Sekhem scepter'. Khonshu, much to Marc's displeasure, commanded him to identify the avatar once and for all.

As Marc was about to enter Steven interjected through a window from a shop nearby. "Don't you think it's strange, I mean they seem to also be an avatar, and not just any avatar its Anubis himself!" Steven started to go on a mini info drop of the god and Marc zoned him out after a few minutes. "Hey, are you listening this is crucial!" Steven yelled. "Yeah, Anubis is the god of death so what, I can deal with it," Marc remarked. "Deal with it- Do we even know who the avatar is for all we know it could be this super powerful person with powers to summon the dead, with all these avengers and new heroes popping out we're bound to have an encounter with them" As Steven was about to add more they saw the masked person walking out with the scepter on their back and their staff on their right hand. Marc quickly rose up from his spot and shifted to Moonknight.

Once he caught up to the person they began to fight one on one, as he continued trying to throw blow after blow his moves kept on being blocked and dodged, some landing. Just as he was about to back off he was knocked down and pinned to the floor. He easily stood back up and tackled the person, ripping off their mask in the process. "Wait your just a kid?!" Marc Yelled. "Actually I'm 17, so not a kid," The now identified teen remarked. As the teen glared at him he suddenly raised his eyes.

"Dad? Nah I'm just playing with you my dad is out of the country with his secretary. You were interesting to talk to I'll give you that Moonknight but unfortunately I have a schedule I need to stick with," he used his legs to kick Marc off, put back on his mask, and jumped off the building. "Shit"

°。°。°。°。°。°。

It was a week since they last encountered them. As Marc went to feed Gus 3.0, he heard a loud crash and a lot of curse words being shouted. This quickly alarmed him so he grabbed his trusty knife and rushed to the scene. When he arrived he noticed a teenager around the age of 17 with a bleeding leg and arm. "The hell are you doing here?" He yelled at the teen. "I was being chased by these 2 guys and needed a place to hide, you don't mind do you" The teen said, shyly smiling. Marc sighed and went to the bathroom. "Stay there kid, and don't move a muscle".

When Marc returned he came back with a first aid kit and a vegan sandwich. "Here kid eat up while I patch you up, once you're done eating I want you to explain everything that happened" He instructed. The teen chuckled and nodded, and took a bite out of the sandwich.

Once he was patching him up he gingerly sat him on the couch and put on a random documentary. As Marc was about to prepare some tea he turned around and was slightly startled when he realized that same teen was no longer on the couch but instead leaning on the counter. "Holy shit- kid you scared me," "You know after feeding me and stuff I should probably now tell you my name and why I'm here" the teen ignored the fact that he clearly freaked Marc out.

"Well my name is (Y/n) and this is what happened, I was just reading my book on this tree right when all of a sudden these 2 guys came and started chucking rocks at me. I think they were guys in my class cause they looked familiar and I knew these 2 girls who I think were dating them cause they shouted to 'Leave their girls alone and that they belonged to them', and before I knew it I was being chased by them, that's when I climbed up some buildings, found your place, and broke in. Sorry about the window, I'll get that cleaned and replaced" Marc sighed at this explanation and gave the teen one of the cups. "It's fine, don't worry about that window. Do you think you'll be safe to head back?" "Probably not," The teen sadly chuckled. "Okay how about this, I walk you back since it's already getting late and tomorrow I teach you some self-defense?" Marc suggested.

"That sounds great! Thank you..." "Marc" he filled in. "Marc. Thank you Marc" the teen smiled for once. "Alright and I have a few rules before I agree to do this, one, don't come in through the window anymore, two, no scaring me like that, and three, come with a staff, you'll see why for that one tomorrow. For now, I'll walk you home"

As the two of them walked together Steven and Jake both teased the poor man whilst (Y/n) kicked a small pebble on their way back.

An: part 2 still a wip💀

[kitchenisking]

April Fic Rec❤️

Hey Guys! I know im late on the monthly rec. Im sorry. RL has been a bitch and I don't see that changing anytime soon, but hoping that if anyone else is going through crazy times that this might help. you guys are also getting a double today cuz its passover! Last year I posted a fic for the 7 days of passover and im going to do the same this year! and seeing how I missed the fist day, right after I post this rec, Im going to post passive day 1 so stay tuned! Love you all😘

Stiles Stilinski resident Tease. by TheBeastsWrite (orphan_account) - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 1254, sterek)

Prompt: Hi, can you make a sterek fic where derek is too afraid to go all the way with stiles for fear of hurting him so stiles makes a plan to turn him on all day by baking, doing chores, and saying certain things sexually until derek can't take it anymore?

The Heat Den by LeatherDearest - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 1612, sterek)

Adult omega Stiles wakes up to find himself locked away in a heat den, with a very possessive and happy alpha.

This is also my first time playing in this sandbox, so please be gentle.

Lay Your Head Down (I Won't Let The Boogeyman Come) by tabris - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 3141, sterek)

"I've kind of. Had this fantasy," Stiles says in a stumbling rush. "And seeing as this may be my last week ever in this room. Kind of a now or never thing. So. Um."

Derek drags his nose up the back of Stiles' neck, pulling him closer to his chest as he makes a questioning sound. 

Stiles takes a deep breath and holds it for a moment, then blurts out, "I just really want you to sneak in, pin me down, and start fucking me so when I wake up I can't do anything but lie there take it."

Phoenix by Unloyal_Olio - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 9376, sterek)

Stiles is a prince with a secret lost in war.

Like a Secret by rufflefeather - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 1644, sterek)

Stiles can't get it up in the aftermath of the whole Nogistune trauma.

Once I'm Done With You by ViragoWrites - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 3748, sterek)

And until recently, dying had never been something he feared. But he had something now, a pack, a home, things worth fighting for that weren’t centered on revenge. He had Stiles. Or he would, once one of them took the initiative and brought this thing that had been developing between them to light.

Or, the one where Derek finally makes a move on Stiles. And what a move it is.

Indelible by SylvieW - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 1978, sterek)

Stiles decided to get a fake tattoo of Derek’s name, as a prank. It does not go the way he expected.

Welcome Home, Baby Papa! by KaliopeShipsIt - (Rating: G, Words: 6420, sterek)

Ten days after Army soldier and family father Derek has left for his latest deployment, his mate Stiles gets some thoroughly unexpected news.

Six months later, the Alpha returns to a very big surprise.

Just for Now by linksofmemories_archive - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 8232, sterek)

“Your heart’s beating fast,” Derek said conversationally, the bastard.

“You’re an asshole.”

“You were going to attack an Alpha werewolf with a lacrosse stick.”

“It was to give me a chance to run.”

“How exactly?” Derek asked. “Show me.”

Fancy Seeing You Here by Anxiety_Baker02 - (Rating: T, Words: 8351, sterek)

To his left was a girl, curled up in the opposite corner and not looking at him, so, of course, he decided to talk to her first. He scooted over to the bars and crouched, trying to see her face. 

“Hello,” he said softly. “Hey, are you Cynthia? My name is Stiles, I’m gonna get you out of here.”

The girl had tensed at the sound of his voice, but when he said his name her head whipped up. Her eyes were sunken in and her cheeks were hollow, her hair matted and her face streaked with dirt, so it took Stiles a moment to recognize her. When he did, though, his eyes went wide and he had to blink a few times to make sure he was really awake; she was one of the few faces that had haunted his dreams for the past three years, the uncertainty of her fate giving his imagination fodder for both heartfelt reunions and terrible visions of torture. He vaguely spared a thought to the irony that the last time they had seen each other had also been in the basement of hunters.

OR:

Stiles lets himself get captured by an enemy and ends up locked in a weird-ass basement. He expected the rough treatment and the cage- what he didn't expect was to find two very familiar faces down there with him.

[notmuchtoconceal]

The wind rolled over the sea, dragging the sea against the land. In mountain mists rose the mudflats to the cliffside, where all around was the grey of probability, for the murk of that sea obscured all which glittered from the ripples of its surface, silken as the translucence of a spiderweb through a beam faint in the dark. The seas which roared, their many miles below framed by the oak contouring of these jagged rocks, the attic window of a home through which you no longer looked.

Cpt. Schreibermachen -- your brother Joseph, who we knew as Joey -- craned the axal column of his vertebrae the full facsimile of a three-sixty degree turn which the stabilities of his anatomy would allow -- craning the long and exquisitely tense musculature of his neck, inviting what tuggings they would allow to what sparse growth sprouted there -- some scraggling and beckoning from the spots and scabs which shone as gold veining the granite jetsam of a cavewall -- staring up into the winding cloudwell which was as a sea itself pouring out. A sea itself pouring out and around, peering through the looming densities, always peering where the sun still blistered brightest, for it bleached and acidified all which it could only relentlessly and unendurably hammer upon.

-- It's here, it's here!

Joey bellowed ahead. Brux screeched from behind.

-- Why, why, why? Why would it be here, Joey? It confounds all matter of public record and therefore common-sense, that it should be here! You are a lunatic! You are excitable, irritable, and contemptuous of the facts before you and all around you! You slumber lazily in a silence which is deafening for it is tragic, that your bountiful young intellect, all your talents and potential, should be squandered on such hysterical and meaningless fancies! My poor brother! My poor Joey! Nobody can help you! You're lost and alone in this world, with adversaries all around and no safe haven to shelter you! For who you are and what you are able, you have been marked -- doomed to wander, now and forever, spurned by all you may help and all who may help you! My poor brother! My poor Joey! Why don't you ever call? We used to be so close? Would you like to talk about it? You know you'll always be my special lil guy, Joey...

From the first of the free asymmetrical zippers on his uniform jacket -- the clanging color and metal latticework which composed a public garden of pins, medals, ribbons & cokecaps blushing lushly from his lapel -- he propelled with great rapidity a violet cloak of embossed and threaded fleur di lys glittering in spun gold, and with it obscured the chatter.

-- Continue to ignore him at all costs! My revelations were revealed to me verily in a session late first this morning before last, then early this evening before this! My unconventional methods -- the methods of which remain still too unconventional to explain this present moment, and perhaps still too many future ones at length! -- was arrived upon for my frustrations with the hole always cleaved away by the cookie-cutter upon the sheet left me at last a ball of dough which was in its sum now entirety the residuals of the previous frames off which the gingerbread men did march ;-- bunched up and rerolled anew, until there was only one but none! I was odds and sods, an oddity out committing sodomy and I wondered truly if I was as inverse as it was said, feeling this emptiness so persistently, for I knew once what spectacular shines burst forth within!

Brux was shouting. Shouting into the roaring wind.

-- The more I talk over him, the more his scrawny lil book boy spinal nerves open to new possibility and influence will be confounded and disrupted --forced to talk in my same dilating and contracting rhythms, so all he attempts to exposit becomes as me; a yawning void, suffocating and expanding, crushing you inward, stupidly and glassily, as the puckering lips of a depthless carnival hare more orange'n gold!

Brux was shouting. Shouting as he rolled his cloak across the mud.

-- They were revealed to me in a moment of meditation come trance come transcendent ecstasy as I lay pressed once more grinding against my brother in the dark night of our shared compartment, where I longed only to be one and deathless with him eternally ;-- knowing myself as I could never be! Torn from the wrong side-in, always back out!

Cpt. Drottin strode forward. On his head, the marble idol flecked with streamers of freshly-oiled copper wire, the anemone-eyes of a harness and visor distended from the notched circuitry of its flexors.

-- Bro, I can't see shit with this shit on, bro.

To the sun, his eyes were pressed. To the horizons, his fingers reached, and some distant ether mist rose to take him in hand. His feet, firm and pressed against the ground, felt in the sutures of their bones what currents flowed beneath the earth, and from his love-nut -- tight, swollen, puckering as his balls still fat and swollen with the seawalls he held back ; uncummed, uneaten, the fire in his guts and balls ;-- eyes alit with leaky cock, hungering for potentials unearthly and obscure.

-- All of this I know. No dissent may take into account what I know, when it refuses to see, refuses to hear -- it is not good-faith criticism to call me a lunatic not for what I believe, but only for I can no longer believe not even in you, but what you think you need to obscure yourself!

From Brux's lips emanated forth raspberries as he leapt into the protracted and violent syncopations of the worm.

-- You're approaching JRPG text-dump levels of unnecessary verbiage, Joey! I have no emotional connection to anything you say, for nobody talks like that, nobody thinks like that, nobody really thinks two dickless nerd boys getting it on (not offense to my good friend, Cpt. Drottin. I would gladly rub my dick bulge against yours were it not already too excruciatingly tender to merely hold your hand. Though I confess also ... I see not the need to work up the strength to perform an action which I have fundamental contempt for, and I (full-disclosure) sometimes worry about you. Nevertheless, I hope impromptu public confessions are something you can live with, and like... things don't have to get too weird between us, for you remain my brother and my heart's most secretive longing and any dream of a life without you is but living death) ... but um, no. Dickless nerd boys can rub their cute lil bumps together anytime, Joey! That's why boys being into other boys is for losers! That's why you deserve a wedgie! Fuck pussy, loser! Pussy, pussy, pussy! You talk too much! You're the annoying one! You're overplayed and nobody likes you!

The salt breeze through his hair, Cpt. Psychorrhax allowed his heart to flutter. The weight upon his chest poured fourth its waters as a goblet overflowing and all throughout the channels of him came the calm which rendered as a warm mist the ice which clotted in his veins.

An elbow to his brothers shoulder -- the limitations of the framing did not reveal the cube on which he stood to gain elevation.

-- He grows more enchanting by the day, Cpt. Schreibermachen.

He looked upon Cpt. Haruspex, and found him magnificent.

Joey looked away -- rightfully, manfully -- at more important things.

-- Well, he'll always be all around. Let's never be tempted not to take him for granted. Smack me and remind me what I'm supposed to be doing. Now that you're here with me, I can admit my cognitive faculties have abruptly halted for you are literally holding my hand.

Their fingers encoiled in the other's. The serpent encoiled their wrists.

-- Your buddy Cpt. Drottin lit a fire in the many fine herbs and splinters I've let line the nests of your aviary, and now through the smoke, you see the signals, rising pitiless off the shouldering earth. Why would you ever feel guilt that you humiliate yourself so shamelessly with that idiot when the man you love is a verifiable beast-tamer fit to open a zoo?

It came first upside the head, then down against the jaw.

-- Man I love. Remind me of evident truths with no need of evidence. I trust in you, now and always. Not once have you done me wrong.

Laika met Joey's eyes.

In them, Joey saw no cause for contradiction.

Joey met Laika's eyes.

Through them, Laika endured. Now and always.

-- You believe for real, Joe?

-- I'll make a believer of you, Laik.

-- I believe in you.

-- I believe in you and me.

They drew closer. Their dicks squirmed in their breachers. Proximate. Needful, yet mindful. In perfect synchronization, now with their hearts.

-- It must be now!

As Joey enunciated -- Brux squawked as a rum-beaten parrot.

-- MUST BE NOW MUST BE NOW ! ! !

Cpt. Hlaford strode forth from the mist, weightless and illusory, though a man of heft he remained, and his palm quite persuasive when deployed.

From his body -- every inch of his heaving muscular pec shelf and abdominal ridges and horselike distended glutes rippling in the sheer linen which clung to his scrubbed and wood-oiled body, gleaming as bronze where the heavier canvas obscured naught but woodlands gone sparse, stitched with gold and of a more natural cream clinging only to depths and seams of his body, drawing eyes by conspiracies stitched into the weave towards things he let dangle, things he let reveal by omission.

To him, Joey fell. To him, Joey looked up.

-- Brother, for I am unclean, and may not be clean at this time, I will endure your chastisement and your chastisement alone, for this is the penance I bare in lieu of the purification I cannot yet truly make!

Wally snorted. What assailed forth from his lips smacked Brother Joey across the face phlegmy and inevitable as the cloudburst of a storm which battered at a dingy ill-stocked at sea, remaining upright only for it wobbled as a top in perpetual motion, knowing only its awkwardness alone with the intricacy well enough to keep itself spinning upright. -- Good enough for me, Joe. What matters is ya got outta bed this mornin and yer makin somethin meaningful of your day by fuckin tryin fer more than once. It don't gotta be perfect. Just show up. Make the effort. Learn what differences lie between an apology and an excuse; what marks a timesink from a sacrifice. Tell me what you have made of yourself, Joe. Tell me what you will make of these coming years. - I am scraps of many things, discarded and piled, and though my choices appear arbitrary, I see in them the pieces of a thing they never were in themselves, but collectively may reveal something of what once was, and though what that may may never be again, I see in these shapes the beams of the scaffolding we may erect to raise ourselves once more high as the golden and glittering frescos which bedazzled our eyes! To us all, we are the inheritors... To those who understand, it will be given, for we make available to all what only... finer eyes have sight to see.

Wally breathed the salt air. In his lungs, it lined like crystal mist.

Behind him, stood men six in number, as his number was six, and six was the sum of three multiplied by two, and the addition of three to itself.

As you have said, so it will be so.

Joey knelt to him. By the roots of his hair, he gripped. The water would come first over his eyes, not from his eyes, though in time they too would flow -- for forth from his urn, the water flowed ice and lemon.

Behind him, his men too stood six in number, for his number was three multiplied against itself was nine, subtracted by itself was six, in keeping with the specific dictate of the requirement that each guardian should have present no less than six and no more than eight men, to keep within what he surmised to himself to be the equivalence of a frequency range.

-- As you have given, so I will now be begotten.

They opened their books and rounded their mouths, Joey's men -- they who were not his duplicates, for when you peered at them with the probing discrimination necessary to parse their overflowing Germanic spirit, you could see all the ways -- in which they were not precise replicas, but some were mirrored inversely, some perfectly, one or two visibly malformed and dragging either one foot or the other.

Far from what I have given, you will inevitably now become.

Cpt. Hlaford's men -- their genitals sectioned off by the underside of a felt harness which flared as a cross to compose the bulk of their garments, left only their sturdy and wool-coated legs freely flowing with the clingy taffeta-chintz spun to ribbons and rose petals of metal and pin -- rose strings within the gildings of their frames, for as they held, thee bones of their fingers were one and welded in oscillation to the structure of the handles of their harps, and all which whistled was silver in their jaws.

Whistle while I work.

Cpt. Psychorrhax spun to face the assembly. His numbered numbered eight for that was four and four and four multiplied by itself and divided back into itself would beget once more itself, and so here he found himself halved within the dictates of maximum allotted allowance.

The spheres aligned. The music came.

As their voices rose, fingers wrung down to pluck the strings.

[mancandy cane my ass the sequential ;-- a quartet of slavs]

Brother Jacek stood facing them.

His eyeline yielded to no one and nothing.

Before him, his men stood eight in number, for eight was the addition of three to five, for five was his number and Laika's was four, which was three with the addition of one, or two with one taken away from three.

Cpt. Psychorrhax's men stood tall in taller hats, meeting Brother Jacek's eyes, and they who came with Jacek threw to one another the bejewel'd handles of broadswords and pressed them to the earth. By hand and half, the cruciforms rose in bloom. Dawnlight strode around them despite the grey of the day and the salt of the sea, for the suns shone off their blades and an array of them they would make as their ankles hopped between the blades ;-- not one point, nor edge ever drawing blood.

I>O>

I. O.

I? O!

I< O<

As pillars of fire, their chants roared forth from their throats. Below the earth, Joey cast his sight.

Look to me, Laika. He said without saying, I will show you once.

Above the sky, Joey rose his awareness.

When he looked and thought, there was the sun -- at some arbitrary point and place; a point only seeming arbitrary for they knew not what he knew now, and to say so would be to say too much, for it was not enough to say things that could not be said when they could be more easily shown; easy sometimes necessitating the manufacture of miracles, tawdry things they are that have words to describe them!

Joey's dick squirmed. The fire roared between his bulge.

Laika pressed his back to Joey.

Joey's men pressed themselves to one another.

A chorus-line mid-collision. Their packages ground into their brothers. Their brothers moaned without relent, stupid for they had been surrendered and were now giving of themselves their sight.

Jacek, by his left and by his right, lifted two coils of wire.

Jacek's men, by the bands of their hammers, beat their blades into the earth :-- drove them deep that any stray light of studs or their handles -- would draw not down the malign influence of her grace.

Jacek, around his neck, hung a chain of iron.

Jacek's men, spinning with swords in hand --

stopping at the edge of their brother's arteries,

drawing still by blade-light to trachea,

plunge themselves in pledge

to recite the vows they themselves make real

by the precision of their moment of utterance.

Jacek, in his left he clutched a coil of silver.

In his right, he clutched a coil of gold.

His men, pressing their prostates to the handles of their swords.

Jacek pressed the coils, cross-axial, to his nips.

Joey pressed to Laika. Laika pressed to Joey.

Their eyes met. What secrecies they knew broiled and conjoined and what they remembered only were the tenderensses which drew them once together, for their's were oppositions to which they mutually drove themselves away, not daring to look, not daring to dream -- of they knew all along was the grandeur to which they were well-entitled.

-- I don't understand. I don't think... I need to.

Laika looked to him.

Laika had no words.

The words would never come.

Not if you gave him a million years.

The words would never come.

His teeth grit. His brow quivered. Beneath his leathers, he stewed in a broil of his own making, he needing always excuse to be roasted alive.

Couldn't think. Only focus.

Dick was so hard.

By his eyes, Joey saw the fields.

By his vision, Joey knew the forms.

The earth did not tremble.

Around it, the air was alive with remembrance.

Laika pressed to Joey. Joey gripped Laika and choked.

Beating. Beading.

Churning. Chewing.

Laika remembered. Laika remembered.

Laika remembered.

The earth bore neither pinecones, nor rolling wheat, but stones. The barren earth yielded only its own desolation. The earth bore not plenty, for the earth was beaten and polluted. The earth knew not beauty for she was scarred and dead, crusted inside with the tar of life.

What sprouted was only rubble, only roots in some dead brush, choking some dead facade as his brother's treacherous fingers grasped along his trachea which the ease at which they caressed him, by chin and behind the ear(th), inviting sweetness and protection to contrast that sociopathy he made so exquisite, so charming with his smile.

None by him could bloom. None but him could water. What he brought forth was only death, as you brought forth only plagues, and all who cowered before you were puppets and corpses, fit to be harnessed by strings and fate, cuffed and muzzled as spotty bandits and mutts.

For from his bag, Cpt. Haruspex at last flung himself free, and with a great wind cursed the horizon he saw now shifting; saw with his own eyes growing vast in their breakages the cleaving from the earth as though the first panes of a fractal beginning to unfurl.

-- I bury you forever, Joey! You and all your works! You ...

His eyes went wide in wandering.

The perspective approached him, and he could begin to piece together -- by what he saw, and what he knew --the truth of what now lay before him, and it mattered not -- the matter of public record, which was his comfort and his cudgel, was doomed now to be revealed as naught but fuel for the fire, idle driftwood it was to flank us from the splendid reality we could see by our own eyes how we now and always lived!

For from this rubble, he could see the shape of cornices, the shape of spires, the fortifications of roofing, the symmetry of archways, all those things which spoke not only to the manmade, but the formal categories of the greatest of that last great pretension -- civilization itself.

-- Though it was written in the scriptures, the last great Laurentian plate was demolished at the time of its reinstallation, how can I not help but see -- my voice remaining now with me -- An Apple Lodging to the east, and those umbering Stallones to the west? This land -- tell it like it was ours! Tell me you won't take it from me. Take her from me again?

Rising, the walls revealed themselves.

On them, the frescoes stood.

Joey pulled forth as he saw. By the stylings he traced their shape from the mold of obscurity and dredged them one step closer to his eyes.

-- It's here, its here! A treasure all around and beneath our feet!

FIVE INLAND SEAS RIGHT HERE OUT FRONT

The wind roared. Around them, hurricane beatings of beneficence blew forth abundance no falsity could desecrate, for this was the truth, the last of all great truths, and through them would Joey right the world.

-- No exaggerations could ruin this day, oh this blessed day! It was true, it was true! It was here, it was here! Oh, this blessed day, it's ours! Before him, it rose. Before him, it stood.

Before it, he bowed, and the marshlands he kissed.

-- As a sire's armpit, I savor. I savor you as only the finest, I would!

To the setting sun, now brass in the falling sky, he kissed the earth where it met those walls, and by them he too stood upright.

[thewelllitweenie]

So it's been long enough since I posted this last and so now I re-present a story I wrote for a rusty quill competition which I can proudly announce did no rate a mention or an email back. What follows is a gross little tale I call windows about an awful little guy and the bad time he has. It's body horror in theme and is one of the more actively yucky things I've written. There's other stories too including the meat forest which I keep pinned and a fun story about subway tuna that's on my substack. Anyways, please read and if you so choose enjoy this fun little story about a horrible little man who through every fault of his own has a bad time.

Peering through windows is a little treat most people will indulge in to varying degrees; from the very shallow end of looking through the newspapers stuck on the windows of a store being refurbished, all the way up to looking into the living rooms of a house at night from the footpath and watching a person at rest. Windows are for looking through and while we would all agree it’s pretty good to look out and see what's around outside, universally it’s uncomfortable to have the outside peer in. It’s like a secret knowledge to look back in though, particularly if you can do it unobserved. There are idiosyncrasies of a person at home they wouldn’t even be aware of but if you catch a glimpse through a cracked curtain enough times you’ll eventually piece together more about what makes them tick than even their loved ones would know.

For a particular Peeping Tom, this is what it’s about. He’d be quick to point out that isn’t something tawdry, watching people in states of undress for titillation but a much more intimate knowledge about a person and who they are. There is a limit to how much you can learn about a person from outside a window, and no matter how much you poke through their garbage or track them online the most illuminating information is within the person. What he wants is hidden even from the observed. It’s just beyond the last frontier to the most private and intimate patterns within their mind and, if you believe in such things, their soul. It’s a desire to see through and bear witness to the unaware internals which has driven him to a dangerous threshold.

Turns out watching a person in their sleep only reveals how much noise they make, faint hints of nightmares and dreams so very close to the secrets bubbling away under their closed eyes. That's the window, the one that matters to look through: the eyes. Of course he wants to see through those windows of the soul, however it is impossible to look in without them looking right back at you, and to be discovered now would be a fate worse than death for him. No one can ever know what he does or see him do it. It is in this frustrated state of mind that Peeping Tom languishes, unable to either let it all go as an impossible desire or progress further to attain this goal.

Recently; in a laneway near where some of his subjects live, between two skip bins, something odd has started growing on the wall. Of course it catches Tom’s eye - very little of interest escapes his notice. He thinks it's a mushroom at first, taking foot in the brickwork. Little white orbs pushing out from the webby strands anchoring to the wall. He hasn’t seen something like that before but it's only a passing fancy as he makes his way between the apartments he spends evenings peering into from fire escapes. The sanitation team from the city has also noticed the growth on the wall: one of the newer members, a young man whose coveralls name him Joe, takes particular interest, encouraging the others to leave it alone, and takes photos of its progress. Tom watches Joe’s enthusiasm, and it provides a new avenue of discovery. He eventually manages to track Joe online, finding photos he posts to different mycology groups trying to identify the mysterious fungus. Experts argue on what it could be and no one has a clear idea. Such a little thing causes so much drama. They wait for the fruit to bloom fully and finally answer the mystery. Joe says he’ll burst one of the less developed orbs and film it. This is met with a mixture of support and condemnation. By now Tom is fully invested in the outcome of this investigation, a mystery with an answer which will come Thursday evening. Joe is off shift and Tom sits waiting, Joe brightly lit by a portable ring light smiling directly into the camera and Tom squatting in the darkness watching. The growth is slick and glossy, bright white like bone, with Joe beaming next to it introducing himself and the fungus to a crowd online. After an overly long preamble he produces a long dessert spoon and starts to nudge the wobbly orb; he lists the different features of the various suggestions from experts saying what should come out when he bursts the fruit. With a dramatic face he pierces the fruit and lets out a strangled cry. The spoon sticks where he stabs it but flicks left and right as the eye growing out of the wall looks around frantically with clear goo gushing out. Quickly grabbing his equipment he scrambles onto his feet and runs away. The other eyes open and focus on the injured eye, the spoon clanging onto the ground as it slips out. Tom watches with morbid fascination, disgusted but elated at something so new and novel. After an hour, the injured eye has fully deflated and the clear white of the sclera is dark and papery. Tom creeps up to the eyes in the wall and looks at them. He knows disgust, specifically what it is to be the object of disgust, and a feeling of being needed and useful but hated. The strange sensation of understanding what it is to be a shelter to vermin, rejects of society and of a strange predator who stalks without killing. He looks away, and the laneway comes back into focus. Steeling himself he looks back into the dimly aware eyes. To be a laneway is not to really exist as a singular thing but rather a holistic collection of spaces and barriers forming a place and function but with baggage. Blinking, Tom walks away from the eyes he had gotten lost in. Time has barely passed but it feels like hours. He vomits as the adrenaline crests and falls out of his body. It's like the first time he had gone into the room of one of his sleeping subjects but this time there's payoff, not the cold emptiness of an unanswered question. It strikes him: he's done it, he has peered through the windows of the soul and seen what it was to be an alleyway. He comes back and looks at but not into the eyes. He looks at the spoon and sees the goo of the burst eye has anchored into the beginning of a new fruit. Tom puts the spoon into a ziplock bag he keeps for his occasional foraging and vanishes into the night.

In little over a month Peeping Tom has learnt how to inoculate objects with the eyes and care for them while they matured. The eye will eventually open on its own and softly look about its environment and then Tom stares into the eye, passing through into the soul of the object. The spoon is a simple thing to know; he learns over time that the older an object is or the more complicated it’s relationship with the world the deeper he can go in understanding. Discrete objects in the room dimly reveal a secret where the room itself tells a grander story. Tom has fully abandoned his human subjects to pursue this new line of investigation. Antiques and abandoned spaces hold the most illuminating stories and secrets. The most beautiful is that of a derelict car from the seventies that has been slowly rusting in a lot cut off from the roads since long before Tom was born. What he experiences is looking back at a long life mixed with care and neglect; it was at one point the focus of love and pivotal to adventures; a baby had been born in it. It was precious and kept parked off the road when it wasn’t being used, admired for its beauty. Then it seems - and this feels more immediate - the love and care stopped, its safe parking space became an oubliette and it was more or less forgotten. Then animals and bugs started calling it home, small plants grew in the shelter of its chassis and as the rain and the elements took their toll its body became one with the ground it stood on. Finally he feels himself and its sudden spark of importance again to a person. It’s only a thing, but Tom feels a pang of empathy and sadness at the fate of it, looking at the car as a whole with its shattered windscreen grotesquely bedecked with staring eyes.

Eventually, as always happens when he finds a new line of inquiry, he becomes complacent, bored and greedy. He sits, staring aimlessly through his own window along with parts of his flat which had been given eyes months ago. A taboo plays across his thoughts - it seems wrong somehow, and for someone who transgresses boundaries so often this is a new and uncomfortable feeling - to give the Soul Eyes to a living being, assuming you could do that. For reasons he can't articulate the thought of inoculating a creature feels somehow forbidden as if it breaks some kind of universal unspoken rule. However the temptation to do it, and then learn the mysteries, is acute. His desires and hesitations chafe at each other, neither quite suppressing the other. Then circumstance makes the choice for him. Hanging from the ceiling, as plump as a cupcake, is a spider. Eight eyes sit in neat rows across its flat face, a ninth eye looking out from its swollen abdomen, blinking with bristly eyelids. Tom doesn't notice it immediately and lets out an undignified yelp when he stands and sees a singular monstrous eye staring him in the face. When he regains his composure he sees the spider climbing back up its silk and walking across the ceiling. The eye on its back is like the many others in his home but this has a different quality to it. A more palpable energy. It looks around more energetically and seemingly with more purpose although thankfully, much like the others, it does not appear to see what it's looking at. Any misgivings about deliberately infecting a living thing with the eyes vanish. It had been done without his hand in the matter and he is blameless. It is unreal, a dizzying experience, unlike any other he's had. The motives of the spider are relatively simple and based around survival but how it thinks of itself in the world is intriguing. It knows that it is separate from its environment and that other entities exist, some of which are dangerous and others not; in many ways it's much how Tom views the world. There are no great mysteries revealed by the spider’s soul; its life is too short and scope narrowed by its lifestyle so that it is similar to the smaller everyday objects Tom has looked into. But crucially it's so much more vividly intense, overriding the feeling of the car.

He yearns to go further and try it out on other creatures but the feeling of extreme doubt and active evil whenever he tries to plan for it overwhelms him, smothering his actions. But not the want. Tom just can’t bring himself to do it; his hands recoil and stomach churns. He has to return the rescue dog he adopted specifically for this purpose. Shame hangs around him like wet rope leaving him exhausted and cold. Why is he like this? All his wants and actions have led to this point, paralysed with worry, unable to rest with this unknowable desire to know everything. Never before, despite near misses and the laws of society, had he felt a twinge of guilt but now… what is this barrier and why can’t he either accept it and stop or move past it? Revelation, an epiphany! Tom knows exactly how to find the answer. He had never considered that he would contain secrets, mysteries unknown to himself. How could he be so short sighted? It's true of all his subjects and yet here he is, never once having considered looking within himself. The barrier to action doesn’t exist here it seems; he feels no hesitation. If anything he feels burgeoning euphoria. It seems fitting to place it within his belly button, from a practical aspect the inoculant can pool without risk of spilling across his body and more spiritually a third eye to navel gaze into has a symmetry about it. It takes a week to grow and it hurts the whole time. Fevers wrack his body and he feels himself becoming weaker. The skin around the growing eye is a livid red and he keeps a sterile bandage and patch to protect the eye from injury as he lays in agony, waiting. Then under the cotton he hears the gentle sound of eyelashes grazing the material. It worked and is now ready. Before the pain had set in fully Tom had prepared a space in his studio putting all of his stalking paraphernalia into the alley. In the center of the room lays a simple rug ringed with candles and a singular mirror fixed to the wall. It is in this sanctum that he will gaze within. He wishes he had prepared more, maybe anointed himself and really put the effort in. This would be the great human revelation, it deserves more ritual. However pain took those choices from him and he doesn’t want to risk painkillers on the developing eye just to get essential oils and an appropriate robe. He lights the candles and sits cross legged on the rug facing the mirror and removes the bandage, steeling himself. He takes a deep breath, wincing in pain and looks down into the eye that looks up at his face.

A subject of a story, an invented monster transgressing the boundaries of good and evil, not as an allegory but as entertainment. An unseen hand and unseen audience both unknowable and watching in perfect anonymity privy to his thoughts and motivations. He is a puppet, not even a person, forced into his choices and to pursue his goals without agency. Dawning realization that there is no greater truth to answer the gnawing question of why he could not get past his disgust, it was like this because of who he is: a monster in a horror story. And the unseen audience is bearing witness and watching the story unfold. He tries to tear his eyes away but is unable to as the eye looks back into him, bringing the true reality of his situation into focus: he is slowly fading away, horrified at what became of him but jealous of the special insights the anonymous audience of his story have. Tom stays stranded at the bottom of a dark well locked in introspection watching himself, watching himself being watched by himself.

[bazmichaels]

High School - Part Three

The summer before my senior year was very busy. Some of my buddies and I got jobs doing yardwork at a condominium complex in the neighborhood. It was only appropriate for me since I was the only Mexican in town. It still left me with plenty of time to work out and work on my kicking and punting. I spent some of my yardwork money on a good regulation football, which was not cheap, and then I scrounged some old crappy balls from guys I knew or from sales of low-quality footballs at stores. I wound up with about a half dozen balls that I put in a laundry bag. I made a contraption that simulated the ball held by a person on a placekicking tee, and I bought a good kickoff tee, which didn’t cost much. The big investment was the kicking shoe. You see, boys and girls, a long, long, time ago, football players used to kick field goals, extra points, and kickoffs by kicking the ball with their toes. It looked something like this.

That’s how I learned to kick. So, my mom made a relatively huge investment in me, and we went down to a fancy sporting goods store in Dayton, and special ordered a left-footed size 10 ½ flat-toed kicking shoe.

It was expensive, but my mom was hoping I would forego all the hitting and head-smashing activities and just stick to kicking. I was still holding out hope that I could play a regular position, but I wanted to make sure I had my kicking game on lock. I’m in the future now, so now I know that in 1978, the kicking game was about to be turned on its head by a wave of strange, sidewinding weirdos that kicked the ball “soccer-style”. Spoiler alert: my placekicking career was doomed. Straight-on kicking was near the end of its time here on Earth. In hindsight, I should have spent the summer learning how to kick soccer-style. Because I had short powerful legs, it would have been more biomechanically sound, anyway. But back then, I was in the past, you see, and that made it much harder to know what was going to happen in the future. Another regret. In addition to the ridiculous flat-toed placekicking practicing, I practiced punting. Recall, if you will, that I was quite the kickball player as a youngster, and I even practiced kicking against the wall in my grandparents’ carport. As it turns out, that was excellent preparation for punting. Ideally, a punter is quite tall and long-legged. It’s basic Newtonian physics, which I was learning about in school around then. Longer legs correspond to longer levers, which produces more force, and the ball can go further and higher, given a proper launch angle and axis of rotation. Ray Guy is the punting GOAT.

He was a long-legged 6’3” punting machine. Unfortunately, I don’t have long legs – never have, never will. I was able to compensate, as much as possible, by creating the most force and leg acceleration as I could. A lot of that came from the weight room, and the rest was just from ridiculous amounts of repetition of a powerful, violent motion. I also inadvertently came up with a technique in which I would essentially emulate a soccer-style motion by dropping the ball off to the side a bit and coming through the ball with some rotational force in addition to the traditional straight-ahead force. As I think about it now, this should have been an excellent indication that I should be a soccer-style kicker. Yep. Now I did have to make an adjustment to shift the whole motion back toward the center of the field to keep the guy rushing in from the edge from being able to block the punt, but that was no big deal once I realized it would be problematic – I just stepped more to the right with my plant foot. Anyway, with all that repetition, I noticed that I was very good at directional kicking, which comes in handy when the ball is near the middle of the field, and you want to pin your opponent as deep in their own territory as possible. If you punt the ball all the way into the end zone, your opponent gets the ball on their own 20-yard line. So, the idea is that it’s better to land the punt inside the 20-yard line rather than punt it as far as you can and have it fly into the end zone. You also don’t want to land it short and then bounce into the end zone, so you want to kick it towards the sideline and have it either land or bounce out of bounds before crossing the goal line. That’s called kicking it into the “coffin corner”, and it was a powerful tool a team could use to win the field position battle (and that’s the game within the game of football). I practiced that a lot. Another option, if the ball is on the other team’s side of the 50, is to just kick it very high and try to have the ball come down around the 10-yard line – that requires the punt coverage team to keep the ball from bouncing into the end zone if the punt receiver doesn’t fair catch it. That’s more like hitting a pitching wedge into the green and you adjust the height of the ball to vary the distance and land it soft. And there I go again, sharing way more details about punting than anyone wants to know. Sorry. Can I just talk about kicking a spiral for a bit? No, OK, I’ll stop. That actually gets more into aerodynamics instead of just Newtonian physics, so that would be a longer discussion. I would suggest taking a college-level course on aerodynamics (starting with the prerequisite math and physics courses) if you would like to learn more about that. I won’t say another word about punting. Well, maybe just a little, later on.

One thing that I looked forward to, as I went about my Sisyphean kicking practices that summer, was the inevitable appearance of a super cute girl from the track team. She would apparently run to the school from her house, run about a thousand laps around the track, and then run back home. I kept hoping she would stop and walk around the track every now and then, or stop and stretch before she left, so I could go talk to her, but she never took a break while she was out there. I never talked to her out there, and I never got the chance to even say hello to her at school the whole next year. I still remember her, though. Super cute.

My senior year of high school had finally arrived. Against my doctor’s recommendation, and behind my mother’s back, I tried to play a linebacker or running back during two-a-day practices, but my neck hurt every time I took or gave out a hit. I had to give it up. Coach Psycho did everything he could to question my manhood, but I was too good on special teams for him to cut me. Here's a picture of me and Chip and the boys resting between the morning and afternoon 2-a-day sessions.

Uncle Harry used to let us leave school grounds between sessions, but Psycho Siewe kept us there. Coach Cuckoo was especially apoplectic when my neck healed enough from two-a-days that I could run full speed and I could outrun just about everyone on the team. I wound up kicking and punting and was the captain of the special teams. That’s me punting.

You can see that I still wore a neck role in case I wanted to mix it up. I was responsible as the last line of defense on punts and kickoffs, and I made a touchdown saving solo tackle against a punt returner once. I’d also jump in on a pile at times to help take the runner down. Here is an atrocious kickoff from an early scrimmage.

You could tell the ball was a wobbly duck off my toe. I had the most trouble with kickoffs out of all the kicks I did. Most were fine, but I’d hit a squibber every now and then. Even though we had ample time to adapt to Coach Psycho’s coaching philosophy, we had a frustrating 3-6-1 finish to the season. Highlights of the season include the following. I made my first field goal attempt, from 37 yards out. I believe it was the school record at the time, but I’m sure it was demolished by a wonky sidewinding soccer-style kicker. I had the highest punting average in the league, whilst only punting one ball into the end zone. I was nailing that coffin corner. Here’s my favorite: I only had the opportunity to kick 10 point-after attempts the entire season. We scored a handful more touchdowns than that, but we were frequently behind and were forced to go for two-point conversions. I made all 10 of my point-after attempts since those are trivial. Oh wait – I mean I made 9 out of 10. One of my kicks strangely went fluttering up into the air and landed short and to the left of the goal posts. I had idea what happened. I came running back to the sidelines to get my kickoff tee, because I had to kickoff. Well, guess how Coach Nutso handled that miss? He got in my face and called me names I had never even heard of – well, I had heard of some of them for sure. I thought he was going to explode, or maybe murder me right there on the sideline. I just needed to get my kickoff tee and move on with my life. Well, when we were watching the game film and we got to the missed PAT, Coach Screw-Loose started to tear into me again, when the guy who was my holder, Jeff Barker (good guy), interrupted and told the coach that he didn’t get his hand out of the way in time, effectively blocking my kick. Of course, Coach Unhinged immediately apologized to me and – oh no, he just sat there and fumed silently. So, after all of that, I was voted to second team All-Western Ohio League special teams. Not bad. The guy that was first team WOL got a scholarship to Ohio State University. He was very good, but the joke was on him – he was also a straight-on flat-toed idiot. Once he got to OSU, he was shown his place on the bench as he watched the soccer-style boys kick the ball farther and higher than us toe-boys. As a matter of fact, here’s the guy that beat him out for the starting job with the Buckeyes.

He was a walk-on who finished his career second on the all-time Ohio State scoring list. He was better than all the toe-jabbers that came before him, just because he kicked a football like a soccer ball. I still cry myself to sleep sometimes, sobbing “it’s a football, not a soccer ball”. Hey, do you think my hatred of the “sport” of soccer stems from this whole shift in placekicking styles? No, I always hated it. So many reasons. Flopping. Nil-nil ties. Acting like just taking a shot is exciting, even if the shooter misses by 20 feet (excuse me, 7 metres). But then why do I love Ted Lasso so much? Is it an underlying respect for those who can legitimately kick better than me? No, just Jason Sudeikis and Coach Beard. Hannah Waddingham. Roy Kemp. Sassy. Oh, and the British use of swear words is sublime. Well, that was my senior year of high school football.

I didn’t play a winter sport again my senior year, which proved to be a good break. I focused back in more on my studies and started getting more serious about applying to colleges. From what I can recall from a thousand years ago, my counselor made it ridiculously easy to get apply for a few preferred schools. I think I just had to put them on a form and my application went straight to those schools along with my transcripts and test scores. I think I got accepted into Ohio State and Miami of Ohio through this process, but I hadn’t even researched any schools yet. Back in 1978, the only way I could research multiple colleges was to buy a book that had comprehensive information about practically every college in the country. I had three main criteria I was looking for. 1) The absolute most important is that it was affordable (cheap). That immediately ruled out all the private institutions. No Mount Union. 2) I wanted to study Astronomy, so the school had to offer an Astronomy degree. That eliminated another large tranche of schools. 3) The football team had to be such that I had a reasonable chance to walk on as a kicker. I wasn’t sure at that point whether I would try to keep playing football or not, but I wanted to keep my options open. That meant Ohio State was out, even though I should have really gone there and just studied. I really liked Louisiana State University, but their football program was also a powerhouse. I briefly checked out the state schools in California. The tuition for in-state students was $100, but it was thousands of dollars for out-of-state students. I found a school called Youngstown State in northern Ohio that seemed to meet all the criteria. It was a mid-sized public university that offered an Astronomy degree and had a Division 1-AA football program. The only red flag was that the mascot was the Penguins. It sounds like it gets cold up in Youngstown. I found a very similar school down in Bowling Green, Kentucky. It was called Western Kentucky University, and it looked like it was in a much prettier area, and not nearly as cold in the winter. I worried that it would cost too much for out-of-state students. Get ready to have your mind blown. Tuition for in-state students was around $200. Out-of-state students had to shell out an outrageous $600*. That worked for me. I applied for Youngstown State, Western Kentucky, and a few others and I got all of them.

*as of 2022, WKU in-state tuition and fees are $11,000 and out-of-state are $27,000.

[smallestapplin]

So we all know that the submas are, as per the wiki, "Extremely Tall" and I cannot get out of my head how cute they would look with a short darling (totally not me projecting, I'll never get to see what the top shelf at the grocery store looks like tho)... also I hc that they may enjoy having a short s/o just because it makes it easier to hug and carry them around and they just *melt* when they have to lean down when they want to kiss them (Even though s/o is already on their tippy toes)

... and excuse the Hornyness but... this all would be carried in the bedroom, you cannot change my mind, these guys have a size kink out of necessity

Pfff alright, I hear y’all! 😅 tho I’m short I’m heavy so don’t think I’ll be picked up.

🔞18+🔞

-

-

🔲Ingo🔲

- he finds your height differences to be so precious.

- His heart melts when you get on your tippy toes trying to kiss him, you whining when you can’t reach makes his knees quake.

- Oh he loves it, it feels so happy when he can help you. Even if that mean grabbing things from the top shelf for you.

- You learn to trust him with this cause he never holds the item over you head.

- Whenever you two hug you can hear his heart pounding against his chest.

- He can’t help it, he loves you!

- His favorite kisses to give are forehead kisses so this makes it easier.

- He panics if he loses you in a crowd.

- Lifts you up to reach higher places neither of you could reach.

🔞NSFW🔞

- size kink to the max.

- While he doesn’t necessarily pick you up. He almost busts when he has you in a mating press and he truly sees how much smaller you are than him.

- Babbles nonsense but it’s always a mix of how tiny you are and how good you feel around him.

- Probably even after all he does to prep you he still has to bully his cock into you.

- Ingo has likely made you cum a few times just to make things easier and is all lubed up!

- But you’re so small compared to you and it shows with how he presses into you.

- “You must relax dear I-fuck, you’re clenching.”

- “I’m not!” You cry out, he’s hardly half way in.

- He keeps you relaxed but he is going to cum soon because just pushing into your wet heat is making his head spin.

🔳Emmet🔳

- Bastardbastardbastardbastard-

- Need something from the top shelf? It’s not over his head and he demands a kiss if you truly want it.

- Short cake and short stack are your new names.

- Feel free to kick him in the shin for this.

- Coos over how adorable you are.

- And how adorable you two look together!

- Picks you up any chance he gets.

- Has held you up lion king style several times.

- You have to yank him down by his tie to kiss him cause he will tease you.

- Doing so however leaves him lovestruck.

- Has bought you an FBI hat that underneath the bold letters says ‘fancy bulge inspector’ and it did end with him flat out on the floor.

🔞NSFW🔞

- he picks you up and fucks you against the wall a LOT.

- He can do that with you so he absolutely has your legs spread and hanging off his elbows while he has you pinned to the wall.

- Full Nelson is now one of his favorite positions to fuck you in.

- Mirror in front of you so he can get a good look at his dick disappearing inside of you.

- And to see your cockdrunk face.

- He just started darling! And you’re already so far gone?

- Coos over at how lewd you look.

- “Mm you take my cock so verrry we’ll darling, it’s like you want to milk me dry.”

- Adores any position that makes your size difference more apparent.

SURPRISE!

🔲Warden Ingo🔲

- he is a simp in its purest form.

- You’re so much smaller than him and your the hero!

- He doesn’t know how to process you looking up at him.

- “Warden you okay? Your face is awfully red.”

- Oh by the Sinnoh’s you’re so cute.

- His protectiveness is upped by ten. You’re small! And alpha Pokémon are large and dangerous!

- Chuckles when you need help reaching a ledge cause you’re so short.

- Happy to help.

- He will carry you either bridal style or like his Lady Sneasler carries you.

🔞NSFW🔞

- foams at the mouth.

- Years in the highlands left him much bulkier than his Unova counterpart.

- So not only does he have height but a larger frame that just covers you.

- And covers you he does.

- You’re nothing but a flesh light to him in these moments.

- He can lift you with much ease, and abuses that.

- Even with you riding him, he just has his hands gripping your hips and is the one moving you.

- “So good f’me, come on, one more.”

- Overstimulates you because you’re already so tight around him and your clenching makes it even tighter.

- You aren’t walking by the time he is done.

[unholyhelbig]

Omg hear me out, Kate having a huge crush on the reader, and in one of those fancy parties the reader kisses her, but she was drunk and doesn't really remember after. And now Kate is lost because she's definitely in love and doesn't want it to be just some drunken mistake. Deliver us the feels? Your writing is just *chef's kiss*

A/N: Happy New Year Guys! I hope this is enough to hold you over for now. It's a dynamic I might expand on soon. Thank you so much for the request!

Send me more Kate x Reader prompts here

Read Part One Here

The Bishop Girl Pt.2 | Kate Bishop x Reader

You were late. You were also drunk, but that didn't mean that you couldn’t’ be on time for the dinner party. The world was pulsing around its edges, and you missed the first train, then the second one rumbled so fiercely that you got off a stop ahead of plan and threw up. It was going to be a good night, you figured as you walked towards the venue. You could get it together.

You went through the freight door of the fancy hotel, barely wading through your mind for the code that your aunt had texted you. But the door opened, and you were out of the New York Cold. The kitchen was working hard, grease popping and bubbling just as much as your stomach did. You took a moment to breathe, to swallow down the bourbon.

“Y/N oh my god, there you are”

“America! Hey buddy.” You smiled lazily at her. She was so strong, so toned, and so annoyed. You could tell by the terse look on her face. Someone was calling out orders through the headset that was in her ear. She steadied you. “Whoa, muscles.”

“Cariño, are you drunk?”

The scent of your breath could have told her that. She grimaced as you sighed, knowing the answer nearly instantaneously. You had lost track of time after failing your Chemistry final, figured that two shots would give you a slight buzz and you could make it in time for work. You were a few more shots in now and honestly, truly, probably should have called out instead of making your way here.

“Si tu tía estuviera aquí, te mataría.” She growled under her breath “You’re lucky it’s me running the floor tonight. It’s a Bishop party.”

That wasn’t good. Even in your half-drunken state, you knew that these were important, but you had scanned the schedule between finals and didn’t put much stock into it. The last time you were near any of the Bishop’s you had knocked a guy unconscious. Since then, you had gotten out of two events, one with the stomach flu and the other with traffic. Maybe you were subconsciously avoiding something or someone.

America frowned, her eyes narrowing as she pressed the headset closer to her eardrum “She’s what?”

You heard a mumbled response but couldn’t’ pin it and didn’t’ care to. Then there was the echoing sound of heels against the bone-colored floor. It vibrated all around you. There was no way to tell where it was coming from and if you glanced both ways again you would go through round two of losing your lunch.

“Oh, I am so dead.” America sighed, pulling you up to a straight position with one tug of your jacket’s lapel. “Look alive, please. And don’t say anything. Don’t even blink Cariño”

Right, you could do that. You could do that if it wasn’t Kate's mother fucking Bishop walking with so much purpose. She wore a suit this time, emerald, green in its color, and pressed with a subtle print. It reflected so vibrantly against her grey stare.

Her eyes flashed from America to you, and you didn't feel yourself slipping but your friends' tight grip on the fabric you wore assured you that you had almost gone down. You cleared your throat and tucked your hands behind you, trying to stay steady.

“Is everything alright, Miss Bishop?” America smiled tightly.

“Everything is perfect, I appreciate you guys.” She stopped in front of you both “My mother, on the other hand, wants to push dinner up by fifteen minutes. I’m not sure if that’s possible.”

“That’s possible, absolutely. I’ll just,” America hesitated and glanced at you with pleading eyes. She had to go to the kitchen, inform the head chef of the slight time change, but there was clear worry etched into her features. “Let Tommy know.”

Kate thanked her with a smile before you felt the hand move from the small of your back. You held yourself strong, throat still slightly burned from the alcohol you had swallowed strong. Kate was scrutinizing you.

“You alright, y/n?” She asked, “You’re looking a little green.”

She knew your name. Of course, she did your aunt has worked for the family for years, nearly a decade but you had never crossed her radar until recently when you had effectively insulted her by calling her a princess, and you’d be damned if it wasn’t dancing at the tip of your tongue now, but you bit it back.

“You look green,” You shot back, “I… I mean, I like your suit dress thing, it’s very nice. You look nice.”

She smiled at you. Maybe it was the liquor, but that in itself was intoxicating. You don’t remember falling forward, but you do remember the walls matching with your heartbeat and a sudden warmth as Kate steadied you.

You breathed her in deep, the mint and clove scent she brandished like a fancy broach. “I’m fine, thank you.”

“You don’t smell fine.”

Her voice rumbled in through her chest and vibrated against your skin. There was a strange type of confidence that came with your intoxication. She was taller than you, dipping her chin to get a better look at the glazed overlook in your eyes. There may have been some crying later, but that was after you had closed your laptop, not now. You hoped your stare wasn’t rimmed in red.

It was another thing that you didn't think through, your thoughts a mix of molasses and honey not warmed. But you stood on your toes, connecting your lips with hers. She breathed in sharp, frozen for just a moment before she pressed into you, running a hand against the edge of your jaw, destabilizing you even more than usual. You whimpered into her throat, suddenly sobered for just a moment.

There was a rush of cold air that pulled the two of you apart. Kate’s cheeks were red, her lips slightly parted and a starry look in her stare. It quickly hardened as she steadied you, clearing her throat and looking towards the intrusion.

“Uh, dinner is pushed up, Miss Bishop,” America said, her own voice sharp.

“Perfect, I uh, thank you.” Kate swallowed “Get her some coffee please and a taxi home. It’s on me.”

A headache slammed against the side of your temple as you stirred the next morning. The blinds had been pulled back with a sharp screech, pulling you from sleep. Your whole body hummed with discomfort and the remainder of a hangover clung to your clothes. You had fallen asleep in your work uniform, rumpled now, with sleep.

You blinked a few times before focusing your attention on America. Her expression was hard, arms crossed over her favorite pajama top, a blue shirt with a neon white star on it. It had faded to yellow now, something she had owned since the two of you had first been assigned as roommates freshman year, sharing a small, cold space.

“How bad was I?” you groaned.

“A literal nightmare.” She pulled back the second curtain, you winced at the sound “The bane of my existence. Dare I say the worst I have ever seen you.”

You didn’t’ drink often, you paced yourself through two glasses of wine most nights that you were obligated to attend. But you had found the hard stuff and it was your last final. It wasn’t cause for celebration but the liquor you had bought for that purpose called your name more than your shift did.

You pulled the cool pillow over your face, words muffled “I’m so sorry Mer.”

She huffed back but lowered herself onto the corner of the bed, basking in the warm light that moved through the windowpane. You reached blindly for your phone, feeling nothing but cool wood under your fingertips.

“If you’re looking for your phone it’s not here. I think you dropped it somewhere between tipsy and blackout, but I don’t want you to worry because Kate Bishop has it.”

You sat up, fast. There was an instant lurch in your stomach as you let out a dizzying breath, the pillow falling into your lap. “She what?”

“She called the catering company this morning. You’re lucky your Tia didn’t pick up the phone. Tommy beat her to it, kids fast.” America spoke with an amused tone in her voice. “Don’t worry though, Kate said you can stop by Bishop Security anytime today and pick it up.”

Okay, alright… this was fine. You wouldn’t have to dip into your savings to replace the phone. But at this point, that seemed easier than facing the girl. There was a blurry reminder of her from last night, a memory flickering against static. There was her sweet scent, and something else, something you couldn’t put your finger on.

“Shower before you go. You stink.” America crinkled her nose and left you to your own devices. You could taste regret against your lips, or was it peppermint Chapstick?

Bishop Security was in downtown Manhattan. It stretched towards the winter sky. When you attempted to look up the world spun into a hangover that you thought you had curbed with a long hot shower and some coffee. Maybe it was just your own nerves hitting every single base.

The inside was pristine and white, the floors a reflective marble, two workers in sharp grey jumpsuits were quietly taking down the Christmas trees and the string lights. The dull scent of pine told you that they were real. A receptionist with honey green eyes glanced up at you before taking your name. She narrowed her eyes before giving you a visitor badge and giving you directions to the top floor.

She went too fast, but you got into the elevator all the same. Your palms were sweaty, so you shoved them into your pockets. Kate Bishop was going to fire you. Not you, really, but your Aunt. Her whole catering business with America, and Tommy, and Billy, and Eli was going to crash and burn. You would have to move to Kansas and get real skilled at farm work.

You felt severely out of place in the hub of Bishop Security. But Kate’s office door was clear glass and her stare found yours the second you stepped off the elevator. She was talking to a man, blueprints and documents suddenly piled together and handed to him. He nodded and exited the office with stride before the girl waved you in.

She was dressed in something a little more casual than you had ever seen her in before. A t-shirt that was as pitch as her hair, pulled into an expert bun. Her arms rested against the glass desk. You tried not to let your stare linger, but it was hard, her muscles straining against her position.

“Y/N,” She said, words soft “Thanks for stopping by. You can sit if you want.”

You didn’t’ want to sit but did anyway. If not, your legs might have given out. You watched her carefully as she moved to the bottom drawer of her desk and pulled out your phone. There was a small fracture against the center of the screen, and it had died during the night, but other than that, it seemed unscathed.

“Thank you, I appreciate it. This is a lifeline.” You pocketed it, the device cold against your skin.

She smiled and the expression was intoxicating. She was alluring, and totally out of an element that you had grown used to seeing her in. She sat against the edge of the desk; knee close enough to you that you could feel the heat radiating off her.

“It’s no problem.” She said, lilting her head to the side “Are you okay?”

“Am I?” You stuttered out, not expecting the question. “Yeah, I think I got it all out of my system. I swear on my own grave I won’t show up to one of your parties wasted again.”

She laughed, a sweet sound “It happens, y/n. We all have our nights.”

You stood, the tension leaving your shoulders at this point, throat tight with anxiety. She smelled like the pine trees downstairs and the soap from the bathroom. “Thank you again, Kate.”

“Are we, uh,” She swallows hard. Suddenly she looked nervous, which made you nervous. Her hands were sweating too while yours had let up the slightest bit. “I think we should talk about last night. About what happened.”

“You’re not going to give me a card for AA, are you? Because it’s not like I’m a frequent flyer for this type of thing.”

Kate stood and shoved her hands into the pockets of her pants, a little loose and printed with a plaid grey design. She was close to you, breathing in deep to the point where her shoulders tightened. “You don’t… remember?”

You scratched the back of your neck “Truthfully I stepped off the subway and the rest is fuzzy. God, please don’t tell me I called you Princess again. I am so sorry about that. I was really taken aback by you, you know.”

You made a gesture with your hand that mimicked the motion of swinging a tray through the air. She blew a puff of air from her nose and shook her head. There was heat growing against your cheeks that you simply attributed to the full-on fear that lurked just below the surface.

“Yeah, you did.” She finally conceded “Don’t worry though, I’ll let it slip this time on account of the bourbon.”

“Ugh, I’m the worst. I’ll make it up to you.” You frowned remember the total of seven cents that you had in your bank account at the moment. Certainly not enough to fix your phone screen, but maybe enough for something else. “I owe you a coffee. I would say a drink but I think I’m a little tapped out in that department right now.”

“I’m holding you to that,” Kate said.

You thanked her again, forever grateful that she didn’t fire the whole catering company, nor did she rip your throat out with her teeth because of the name slip-up. There was an odd goofy side to Kate Bishop that you didn’t’ notice as she slammed her knuckles into a guy's face.

There was one more sparing glance as you waited for the elevator. Her grey stare was focused on the floor, she had returned to her sitting position at the corner of the desk. You could have sworn you saw her fingers ghost against her own lips as if there was a memory there, something you couldn’t pull out of the memories of the night before.

[whoopsieintheuniverse]

Headcanon Time!

Yeeeeaaaaahhhhhh I’m writing for Naruto again!

Kisame Headcanons

NSFW under the cut so Imma need the minors to not go under there. Thnks. 

Very polite, mhm. 

This is kind of canonical, but I just wanna emphasize how polite Mr. Hoshigaki is. He will kick your ass in training and then tell you to have a good day and genuinely mean it. 

He’s also just not very judgmental, which is probably due to how he was raised. 

I headcanon that Kisame had a very country, almost hilly-billy like family. In canon, there are no Hoshigaki names on memorials in his village; they’ve been expunged. I don’t know why but that’s some Hatfield-McCoy type shit. The Hoshigakis were menaces to society for no particular reason, and Kisame just had to go with the family.

After seeing what he’s seen, yeah Kisame is not judging you at all. 

Talks to Samehada and knows its responses like the back of his hand.

I think the bond to Samehada and its user works similarly to Venom and Eddie Brock. 

That shit is a symbiote and you cannot change my mind. 

A FULLY SENTIENT SWORD?? THAT HAS FOOD TASTE PREFERENCES??? yeaaaaahhh your honor, that’s a symbiote. 

Sometimes, who Kisame trains with is dependent on what chakra Samehada has a taste for that day. Kisame definitely soils her. Talks to her like a dog when no one is looking. 

Itachi has seen it. He says nothing, but he think it’s cute. 

Because of the bond between him and Samehada, I think Kisame can kind of taste chakra, too. He’s been bonded to the sword so many times that he has some of its powers even when not formally bonded together.

Kisame can swim, but he can’t fish.

 It makes no sense, but Kisame is terrible at fishing. He isn’t all that patient, and sedentary activities like that don’t strike his fancy all that much. 

Itachi is convinced that sometimes Kisame scares the fish away on purpose. 

As for swimming, Kisame, of course, is a strong swimmer, but did you know that wasn’t always the case? 

Kisame couldn’t swim all that well until he hit the ninja academy. I definitely think his family just chucked him into the water, and poor baby was pretty sure he was drowning until he remembered his gills. 

I think the “fussy, nervous kid growing up into a laid-back adult” trope is just funny, and it fits Kisame in my mind. 

Instigatorrrrrrrr. 

Again, pretty canonical, but one of Kisame’s favorite hobbies is starting shit. 

The rest of the Akatsuki is sooooo used to hearing him pipe up,” You just gonna take that?” during an argument. 

Itachi tries to get him to stop with one of his patented “Uchiha glares” but pouring fuel on a fire is too good for Kisame sometimes. 

Besides, he doesn’t do it often. More of just messing around. The Akatsuki is really the first place Kisame has been more comfortable of being himself and not just a weapon or tool, so his personality really has a tendency to chime through when he finds something funny amongst the members. 

In addition to this, Kisame also is very physical in a big-brother way. Very much will give Deidara a noogie. Is also the king of the shoulder-bump thing guys do when they pass you. Kisame is your annoying frat-brother confirmed. 

To go with the above, Kisame has not had many friends.

He didn’t allow himself to have friends. Thought they were liabilities. 

As such, even though Kisame will consider you a friend in his mind, he will be very independent. 

This is because he still struggles with the “shinobi have no friends” mentality, and because he doesn’t want his friends to think he can’t handle himself. 

To Kisame, if he isn’t firing at 500%, he isn’t good enough and other people will think that as well. 

Pls tell him he’s good. 

***********************NSFW CONTENT BELOW!!***************

 NSFW Kisame Headcanons

Get into it, yuh

Firm believer in “attitude adjustments”. 

Like, if there’s something seriously wrong, of course he’s not gonna be one of those guys that just pop it out unprompted. However. 

You feeling bad, babe? Shooot, let your man fix it. Hidan pissed you off? Yeah, let him make it all better. That movie made you sad? Sit on his lap and tell him alllll about it.

Let. Him. Pin. You. Down.

Kisame has such a huge thing for immobilizing his partner. Not even in a bondage way, but definitely with his body. Gets him hot for sure. 

It also makes him feel all mushy that you trust him enough to let him have that control. Think about it. You trust him, a missing-nin, a mercenary, and whatever else people call him. Despite everything he’s done and everything he’s been through, you still trust him and love him. Makes Kisame love you more each time.

Adventurous in bed. 

The Kama Sutra is a checklist for Kisame. No, I will not accept criticism, and no, I will not take it back. 

Every time, it’s kind of interesting to see what positions Kisame will think of next. 

He can’t help it! He loves every part of you, so of course he wants to see and touch and taste everything. One minute, you’re face to face and the next minute, he’s slinging you into a different  position. Just how it is babes. 

He will look out to not stress or stretch your body in any ways you can’t take, especially if you’re not a shinobi. 

Kisame has a thing for being used by his partner.

Now let me explain. To put it lightly, sit on his face. Use him as a dildo every once in a while. Take what you want from him, pls. 

Kisame just wants you to be completely satisfied by him. Using his body to get off like that is just *static noises*. Please just top him once in a while, I promise he will love it. 

So sweet after.

Kisame is not stupid. He knows his stamina is crazy, and he knows he’s rough.

Gives the best massages! Let him work out those knots he’s put into your back.

Likes to cuddle. He’s touch-starved and the first time you curled up to him, it freaked him the hell out. After that though? If you don’t cuddle up to him post-coitus, he’s going to assume something’s wrong unless you tell him otherwise.  

He also likes little forehead kisses and kisses on his shoulders. Don’t tell the guys, he has a reputation to keep.

[ladydaemon]

SICK DAYS

kaz brekker x female! reader

A/N: Yes, I realize how cliché and very non-Kaz this is. I tried my best guys, but I am in the mood for fluff and only fluff so yeah.

Summary: After a night in the rain, Y/N has a cold and it's up to Kaz to take care of her, a difficult task indeed.

Warnings: swearing, really horrible writing, not proofread writing, just me spitting out Words™ at three in the morning

Dangerous assassins do not need sick days.

It was an extremely hypocritical thought, and Y/N knew it. She thought the thought anyway, because at this point, there seemed to be no aspect in her life that was not fueled entirely by spite.

"Please, for the love of the Saints, go to sleep, Y/N," Inej begged, forcing the woman back onto the bed. "You are sick. You need rest."

"I do not need rest, I need caffeine and waffles," the wheezing woman replied stubbornly, trying to get past Inej, who was blocking the doorway of her room. The Slat, usually thundering with noise and chatter, was silent as the grave - it was one of the rare days in Ketterdam where it was sunny, and everyone was either out enjoying the weather or enjoying pickpocketing someone who was enjoying the weather. "I am a grown-ass woman who also happens to be very good at using the bang-bang machines we call guns so please move aside, I need fresh air."

It was arguably entirely Y/N's fault that she was stuck inside in the first place - first, she had stayed out in the rain too long, despite Kaz's numerous protests. Second, she had, in a grave act of stupidity, gone down for breakfast the next morning. Normally, this would not have been a problem. However, on this particular day, her eyes were red and swollen and itchy and her lungs hurt and it was generally very obvious that she had a cold.

These were the deciding factors which led to her ultimate demise:

House arrest.

Though the fact that she was notorious for her spontaneous, impulsive, reckless, throw-caution-to-the-wind nature (along with the fact that Kaz, from multiple bad experiences he would rather not repeat, knew that she had nearly no self-preservation skills) probably had something to with it.

Also she apparently needed a chaperone. Which was probably a good idea, but Y/N wasn't about to admit that anytime soon.

"You are seventeen and you have a window, darling," the smooth voice of one Kaz Brekker, the devil himself, interrupted Y/N's feeble excuse of an escape.

"But Kaz," Y/N whined, pouting. Inej gave the man an exasperated look as if to say, See what I've been dealing with?

"Darling, you'll only have to stay here longer if you don't try and get better."

"Still."

Kaz, lips twitching in a very non-Kaz way, turned to Inej. "You can go. I suppose I'll play nursemaid."

The Wraith chucked darkly, already stepping out Y/N's window. "Good luck with that."

As soon as she had climbed out the room and was well out of earshot, Kaz turned on his heel and walked out. Y/N, thoroughly confused, took a second to contemplate whether this act was meant that she was officially free, or that she was supposed to follow him. Her question was answered a moment later when he called out, not sparing her a backwards glance, "Are you coming?"

She sighed dejectedly, following him up the stairs to hid room. With a flamboyant and smug bow, he opened the door for her. "Ladies first."

She rolled her eyes at him but entered the room nonetheless. Kaz closed the door behind him and strode heavily to his desk, taking the time to shuffle and order some papers. Y/N stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, unsure as to what in the hell she was supposed to do. Kaz flicked his eyes up to her and jerked his head towards the black-sheeted bed that occupied almost a fourth of the room.

She stared at it for a moment. "You want me to sleep. On your bed. While you watch." It came out more an incredulous statement than a question.

"Sorry to break it to you, but I can't devote all my time to taking care of you, and I also can't leave you alone unsupervised while ill. This is our compromise," Kaz explained somewhat impatiently.

"I am not going to get in that crusty-ass bed, that, in case you have forgotten, belongs to my boss, AKA you. For all I know you sleep nude."

One of Kaz's eyebrows twitched. "The sheets were changed this morning. And for the record, I don't."

"Still not going to do it. That takes the creepy-o-meter to like, a thousand."

"You're a criminal who spies on brothels. This is nothing."

"Still not doing it. This feels fundamentally wrong."

"I'll buy you a nice dagger if you just shut up and get in the damn bed." Saints, he was already exasperated, and he had barely been here five minutes. A new respect for Inej found its way into his being.

Y/N went quiet for a minute, considering. "One of the serrated ones with the fancy gilded handles?"

"Whatever dagger your heart desires."

"Two daggers and a gun."

"One dagger and a gun."

"Deal," Y/N decided, plopping down on the bed. It still felt wrong, but she did need a new dagger - Wylan had blown hers up in a previous job.

She carefully peeled the pristine sheets and blankets away from the mattress, half expecting a dozen poisonous things to pop out. The only thing it released was the strangely comforting smell of wood oil and ink (and a bit of gunpowder, but this was Kaz Brekker we're talking about).

Y/N slipped beneath the covers, her head resting comfortably on the cloud-like pillows.

I bet this bitch sleeps like a baby every night.

"I can still beat your ass, Brekker," she mumbled. Yeah, she was sick, but she also had a reputation to uphold.

"On a regular day, I have no doubt about it. Currently, you are prohibited from doing anything that isn't sleeping, peeing, or contemplating life. Doctor's orders."

"Well, I'm going to go pee then. More freedom." She attempted to stand up from the surprisingly soft bed but the in the second it took for her to try and stand, Kaz, moving surprisingly quickly for a man with a cane, pinned her to the bed by her shoulders with an exasperated sigh.

"Just stay still. Please," he breathed.

"Get me a sweet bun and maybe," she breathed back, but didn't move. Despite her almost child-like demeanor, she was one of the original Dregs, here as a child even before Kaz. He had been the only one her age when he had joined, so naturally, she had befriended him (well, as much as you can befriend Kaz Brekker). She knew about his phobia of touch, and how much it meant that he was touching her, even with his gloves on.

Kaz released her with a sigh and stalked over to his desk where he rummaged around for a bit until he produced a small tin that looked abut as old as he was. He tossed it at her and she grabbed it, opening it to see some biscuits that looked as hard as rocks. "That's all I have, and all you're going get. Don't break a tooth."

Y/N sighed, staring at the biscuits mournfully before taking one out of the tin and gnawing on it. It would have been easier to bite on the barrel of one of Jesper's guns. "You're mean."

"You're acting like a petulant child."

Y/N made a disgruntled noise from the back of her throat, sinking back into the silk pillows and wrapping the blankets tighter around her. She had made no visible mark on the cookie, and had only succeeded in covering it with slobber. She put it back in the tin and noticed Kaz wrinkle his nose at her.

She doubted the biscuits would ever see the light of day again.

She watched Kaz do his paperwork, a surprisingly interesting thing to do. He had taken off his hat and jacket, and rolled up his sleeves. He even took his gloves off, preferring to use a pen without the ridiculous slipperiness of the leather. The papers shuffled in a soothing rhythm, and soon, Y/N began to feel less cooped up and a bit more relaxed.

Ever since she had been taken away from her family and thrown onto the tiny slaving ship, Y/N had always had a touch of claustrophobia (well, it was a bit more than a touch, but she wasn't willing to admit that just yet). The tiny room with a mattress on the flooor was really just a decoration at this point - she slept on the roof most nights and every waking hour was in Ketterdam, simply walking if there were no pockets to be picked.

Drowsily, she watched as Kaz scratched something out on paper, his face creasing ever so slightly. The pen made a nice sound, she found, and paired with the strangely calming scent of his room and the rustling of papers, it made her feel almost like it was rainy day, the kind where you curled up by the fire and read a book or cuddled with someone.

"I doubt staring at my face will help you fall asleep, love," Kaz noted without looking up from his work.

"Your face is the most interesting thing here."

For the barest fraction of a second, Kaz looked like he had short-circuited. The moment was gone as soon as it came, however, and he simply raised an eyebrow at her. "You're very immature sometimes."

"Thanks!" Y/N said cheerfully. "It was the trauma."

"Trauma hardens people, it doesn't make them softer," Kaz dismissed.

"I agree wholeheartedly. However, there's a difference between an excellent mask and incompetence," she replied. "Now come over here and show what's bothering you, I can see it on your face."

Kaz looked up at her, noting the fact that she probably wouldn't shut up unless he did as she asked. He rolled his eyes, hobbling over to the bed. As he sat, she could feel his weight pushing the mattress down.

Before he could say a word, she snatched the paper in his hands and began scanning it. "What's wrong with it?"

"The numbers don't add up."

She stared at the document for another second, then back up at Kaz. "Who are you and what have you done with Kaz Brekker?"

He blinked at her.

"You forgot to carry the one. The numbers don't add up because you... well, added them wrong," she explained softly. She looked up at him, concern crossing her features. "Do you need a nap?"

Kaz huffed out a breath. "I'm fine. You're just distracting me, that's all."

"We're going to ignore the fact that you think I'm distracting and instead focus on the fact that you have not slept in several days."

Kaz's nostrils flared slightly in indignation. Before he could speak, however, Y/N cut him off. "Kaz, I have known you since I was eleven. I'm also not fucking blind. Yes, I know you are essentially running a mafia at age seventeen. Yes, I know you are under pressure. Yes, I know there is at any given moment a bounty on your head. Yes, I know I am sick and it is technically your job to take care of me. But can we please just make a deal or a truce or something in which you get some fucking rest?"

Kaz was quiet for a moment before the corner of his mouth twitched. "Always the mother hen for everyone except yourself."

She was startled into a laugh. "What can I saw, I was a born hypocrite."

Kaz did end up getting a couple hours of sleep, even if it was at Y/N's insistence.

However, he almost regretted it when Jesper barged in and, with a gleeful cackle, found them both sleeping in the same bed with one of his legs pressed up against hers - Kaz's version of flat-out cuddling.

Almost.