#His face reveal was my first attempt and like!! How does that happen sometimes!! Look at him!

[sysig]

Yandere Therapy (Patreon)

[syrupgirl]

Requesting 83 from the prompt list for Tonowari and female navi reader. 🌼

lil cw, a bad attempt at some suggestive teasing, implications of sex, and reader is preg ;p and i VERY slightly changed the wording of the prompt. Literally 1 word

Your fingers dance dutifully over fibers and serenity floods your chest.

The gentle lull of the ocean outside was enough to put you into an almost meditative state and it was only aided by the breeze that was weaving through the open arches of the marui.

You sit alone in your home, nestling in close to the small hole in the floor mats that revealed the shimmering seas surface below. The ocasional Ilu swims past, sometimes mounted by a child or two and you already shining mood is improved by the sound of their giddy laughter and squeals. You can feel you smile growing and growing and you couldn’t help it if you want to.

“My dear?” A familiar voice floats in on the gentle wind and you turn from your diligent work to face your mate.

Tonowari approaches you with the gait of a man exhausted, but his face shows nothing is the sort. No, all his face reads of is warmth and an air of satisfaction. What ever can that be for? You think. It has hardly been three hours since you had last seen each other. Seen, laughed, embraced. A shy heat freaks up to your face from your chest and you look back down to your work.

“I’ve been looking for you all over the village,” he mock whines. “And yet, here you are! Right in the place I left you.”

You hum and squint your eyes up at him in a cheeky smile and Tonowari huffs a laugh at you. He gets on his knees behind you and very gently rests his hands on your stomach.

His thumbs rub back and forth on the smooth skin as he relaxes his head into the crevice on your shoulder.

“How’s my ‘itetsyìp* going, hm?” He whispers into you. The warmth radiating from his front does wonders on your back and you moan in appreciation.

“For such a little thing, she sure is making me ache-y.” You laugh and he laughs with you. You glance at your mate over your shoulder and spy the wicked gleam in his eye. The arms on your waist tighten incrementally and he begins to plant kisses from your jaw to your shoulder.

A lilting sigh escapes you and your head falls back, tilting to the side slightly to allow him more space. Slowly, one of your hands neglect your work and come to rest in his braided hair behind you.

“Oh, Tonowari.” You gasp slightly when a canine nips at your throat followed by a throaty chuckle before he continues his endeavours. A hand that was resting on your stomach now makes it way to your thigh where it lies criss-crossed. Your mouth opens in a small ‘oh’ and it only serves to amuse the man behind you.

“Yes, ma yawne?-” His crooning is cut short by raucous laughter and crashing feet. Suddenly, all the hands that were on you weren’t anymore and you barely concealed a disappointed complaint. You both turn to see your children, Tsireya and Ao’nung standing in the arch of your marui, Ao’nung looking awkward and Tsireya significantly less so, if at all.

Your daughter looks like she wants to jump out of her skin to tackle you in a hug but her big brother holds her by the shoulders, undeterred by her whining.

“Am I…Are we interrupting something?” He mutters, shuffling on his feet and looking anywhere but his parents.

“Of course not, my sweetheart-”

“No, not at all-”

The two of you hurry to plead your innocence but Ao’nung isn’t buying a bit of it. He’s already leaving while he mumbles a half-assed apology and pushing his sister out with him. She twists and turn in his hold, repeating over and over again ‘I want to go say hi, ao’nung!’ and ‘why can’t we see them right now?’

With your moment of intimacy well and truly ended, you just sit there next to each other, a semi awkward silent ruminating in the space between. (Yes, those still happen in mated pairs)

Tonowari is first to break the silence, laughter bubbling up from his chest and you join in with him. You bring a hand up to your mouth and close your eyes while the two of you giggle away feeling years younger than you were.

Oh well, that moment was over, but there are still so many more to have. And you can’t wait to experience them all.

* -‘itetsyìp = n. little daughter (term of endearment)

[bloodiedrogue]

DO I KNOW YOU? (3)

SUMMARY: Miguel's been showing up at your house for months. And yet, you still have no idea who he is.

PAIRING: Miguel O'Hara & Female Reader

WORD COUNT: 4,810

WARNINGS: Angst, all hurt no comfort (sorry folks, I promise the comfort is coming just be patient), enemies-to-lovers adjacent, descriptions of a panic attack/dissociate behaviours.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Okay, this chapter gave me such grief I'm just so fucking glad it's over. Enjoy! Please! For the sake of my sanity. :')

CHAPTER LIST / LAST CHAPTER / MASTERLIST

-

It’s been nearly two months since that first encounter. Two months of random, bloodied drop-ins, and you still have no idea who Miguel really is. 

At this point, you’ve spent weeks wondering. Every time you look at him it’s like you’re met with this overwhelming desire to discover new information —to explore the contents of his brain in a way that makes your own begin to race at the thought. Like you’re cracking some kind of code. Oftentimes, it takes over you entirely, pushing you further and further over that established boundary line towards the impending doom of another late-night argument neither of you wants to have. So far, it’s happened six times, each argument worse than the last, but despite that, you refuse to give up. 

“Okay, how about two truths, one lie?”

“Seriously?” 

Each time he shows up at your house battered and bruised, you find yourself coming up with new ways to attempt extorting information. Sometimes you outright ask, hoping he’ll simply give in. Sometimes you resort to bribery. Tonight though, after several weeks of partially un-consented arrivals, you’ve decided to try your luck with a game.

“No.”

Or not. 

“No?”

“I come here to rest, not play games.” 

“Okay well, house rules.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m not, actually. House rules state you have to participate if you continue crashing on my couch.” 

Without missing a beat, he snorts, throwing his head back against the couch in frustration —something he always does whenever you’re being annoying and he isn’t sure how to proceed. 

“You know I’m still not gonna tell you anything.”

You hum and turn to face him, watching his head fall to the side to look at you. 

He’s got the kind of face that could make a baby cry. Not because he’s scary or unattractive but because he’s mean. With constantly downturned eyebrows and a frown so deep you can see the wrinkles already starting to form, he’s perfected the unimpressed face. The one that always has you second-guessing your intentions at least for a second. 

“Do you know the rules or do I have to explain them?”

“I’m sure I can guess what the rules are.” 

“Good, you want to go first or—“

“You go.”

You can’t help but grin as he motions towards you, offering his palm into the space between. For once it’s bare, along with the rest of his arm. Usually, he always shows up in his suit and nothing else but after last week's incident of almost indecent exposure, you figured you’d offer him something more comfortable from Peter’s closet.

“Okay, two truths, one lie, two truths, one lie…” 

He watches you closely as you slip further into the couch, your brows knitting together as you try to come up with a plausible set of facts, knowing it shouldn’t be that hard. Like you, he knows very little. Sure, he has the slightest advantage of constantly making himself present inside your apartment but like him, you haven’t revealed any big secrets —no defining factors of your personality that could give him the upper hand.

So far, the playing field seems pretty even.

“Okay, my favourite meal of the day is breakfast. Blue Moon by Billie Holiday is my favourite song. I work as a geneticist, specifically in R&D.” 

You raise a finger with each fact you list, noticing the way Miguel’s brow rises ever so slightly with each passing one. By the end, he looks almost surprised by your choices, as if somehow he pegged you as someone completely different. 

“A geneticist. That’s tough work.” 

“It is.” 

“Can I ask a follow up question or is that against house rules?”

You ponder for a minute, taking slight enjoyment over the way his expression slowly becomes more annoyed as time passes. “I’ll give you one.”

“Do you like your job?”

It’s an off-putting question considering the end goal of the game. Its abruptness throwing you off as you stare, confused, taking in the way his overall posture sort of relaxes under your gaze. Like his question, its change is immediate. His body slipping into the couch as he pulls his arms across his chest, mirroring your position. 

He looks weirdly calm —tranquil in a way that has you feeling a bit happy that he isn’t on edge like he usually is. 

“Sometimes.” 

“Why not all the time?” 

You open your mouth to respond but quickly close it. You said one question, not two and you stand by that. 

For some reason it makes him smile once he realizes this. His mouth falling open to reveal those fangs you’ve slowly grown used to —the ones that nearly made your heart jump out of your chest at first glance all those weeks ago. It was his second night staying over that you’d noticed them. You were grabbing all the usual items to aid Miguel’s injuries when he let them slip between his teeth in the form of a yawn, prompting you to nearly drop the scotch in your hand. 

It was embarrassing for the both of you but you never spoke about it, instead choosing to sweep it under the rug in favour of another argument about why he was there in the first place.

“Your turn.”

“Hm.”

He takes his time curating his answers, focusing on the space in front of him with such intense eyes you almost wonder if he’s doing it to annoy you. 

Honestly, you wouldn’t put it past him. As time’s gone on, you’ve learned that Miguel is quite the pusher. The kind of guy who can get a rise out of anyone with very little effort. All he has to do is say a few choice words and inevitably an altercation will arise out of nowhere.

You’re certain it’s a Spider-Man thing because as wonderfully caring as your brother is, most of the time he’s always had the same ability. As kids, he could crawl underneath your skin with just one look and to this day, despite winning your fair share of fights, Peter still lands supreme in overall standings. 

“I’m Spider-Man.” 

You want to punch him in the gut but refrain, noticing the smirk that creeps across his face. 

“My name is Miguel.”

“Oh, my god…”

“And I’d like a scotch, please.” 

This time you really do reach out to punch him, feeling his fist wrap around your own before you can even think to retract. Against your skin, it’s warm —hot even and slick with the kind of sweat that has you pulling away in embarrassment. 

In response, Miguel merely snorts and recrosses his arms over his chest, looking as smug as ever as you stand up, opting to fulfil his wishes. 

“You’re lucky I also want scotch.” 

“Wait, but what if that’s the lie?” 

His tone is dripping in the kind of sarcasm you’re unwilling to entertain as you perform your usual route. Grumpily, you grab two stacked glasses and the neck of the bottle, rolling your eyes when you plop back down, motioning for him to do it himself. 

“I feel like house rules should apply to the owner as well,” he mumbles, reaching over to grab the bottle. Popping it open, he hums to himself as he pours each of you a glass, ignoring the way your jaw tightens at the prospect of yet another night without information. 

“You know it’s kind of unfair that you keep showing up unannounced and refuse to tell me literally anything about you.” 

In unison you grab your drinks and settle, staring at each other with offensive expressions that you can feel escalating —building in tension.

“I told you I can’t,” he says, sighing and sipping and ultimately trying his best not to disturb the one night of peace you’ve managed to have so far. 

“Why not?”

“Because it’s classified.” 

You groan. 

It’s the same answer he gives every time. That’s classified, this is classified, sorry all of my personal details are classified! Every time you hear him say it you want to rip your own ears off and eat them. To scream at the top of your lungs because it’s so unfair that you’re this nice to him. This giving —and for what?

Aside from Peter, if he were anyone else you’d tell them to pack it up and take their baggage elsewhere, barely batting an eye as they left. Closing up the window, you’d smack your palms together as if you took out the trash and go to bed, never to think about their presence again.

You’re not sure why Miguel is different. Why you continue to let him in night after fucking night, regardless of the hour. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s a part of your brother’s overall safety or because you think Peter will get mad at you if you don’t. 

Regardless, it still doesn’t make sense considering the nature of your relationship. The lack of ability to communicate genuinely. Every conversation you have with one another is snarky and laced with daggers aimed to kill. There’s nothing of value to redeem. Nothing to make whatever this is worth it as you stare at each other angrily, trying to defy the constant wall that sets you both apart. 

“God, you are so—“

“What?”

You drop your glass onto the table and move your hands into the air, extending your fingers out as you shake them in frustration, groaning. 

He’s so fucking confusing, you decide then. Conceited and awful and stupid. Ungrateful too, remembering the fact that he’s never actually thanked you for letting him stay over —for being there whenever he arrives, willing to plaster up the pieces of his broken body. 

Without question you’re always at the window, peeling it open with tired hands that later pour him drinks and feed him pills and fucking wash his wounds, and not a single time has he ever thanked you.

“Selfish.” 

You see the impact of your words on his face. As he looks over, his eyes go from immediate belligerence to apologetic, his brows lowering in confusion. Awkwardly, his frame sort of slips, causing him to cave in on himself as he slowly looks away, making you realize he might actually be sorry this time. 

“I know I’m not a part of your secret society,” you tell him, waiting for something —anything, knowing deep down it’ll never come. “But this is my house. My home.” 

“Okay, and?”

His tone doesn’t match the expression on his face. Devoid of anything sympathetic, he sounds like a dog being backed into a corner, canines fully out to defend; his face transitioning into that same old scowl that makes you feel insane for even attempting this time and time again. 

“I don’t know you, Miguel! You’re a stranger and you’re in my house all the time!” 

“You’re the one who lets me in!”

“Okay, and?”

Repeating his words back to him feels like a bit of a low blow but it’s all you got. You’ve already had this same conversation countless times. All that’s needed to be said has been, and if he can’t understand that you’re not sure you can keep doing this. 

Sure, he may be Peter’s superior but he’s certainly not yours. He doesn’t dictate what you can and can’t do and he certainly doesn’t have the right to assume he’s allowed entrance into your home without at least a little exchange of trust. 

“Listen, I get the whole keeping the universes separate bullshit —believe me, I hear about it from Peter at least a zillion times a week. But I don’t know you —I don’t know who you are or what your deal is and it’s getting kind of weird.”

His jaw shifts, loosening ever so slightly at the calmness of your words. 

Oftentimes, during these moments, you find the volume of your voice surpassing the level you want. With him, whenever an argument erupts, it’s like something completely foreign takes over and all attempts to quell the anger inside are shot dead in their tracks. 

“All I want is something —anything. I’m not talking trade secrets. I’m talking like, uh…” You pause, trying to rack your brain for something easy and boring. Something he’d be willing to give up. “What do you do for a living when you’re not Spider-Man?”

“What do I do for a living?” 

He sounds almost offended, as if you’ve just asked the stupidest question on the planet but you refuse to falter, staring at him with interest in your eyes. 

“Out of all the questions in the universe, that’s the one you want to go with?”

“Is there a problem with it?” 

“Uh, yeah, it’s boring.”

“Okay, then answer it.”

“No.” 

Oh, for fuck's sake.

“You know, talking to you is like talking to fucking wall!” 

Suddenly you’re standing up and reaching for your glass, taking a moment to throw the contents back in one swift dip. As it goes down it burns your throat, making you cringe and smack your mouth around before grabbing the bottle and pouring yourself another glass. 

“I mean, am I crazy?”

“I’m going to assume that’s a rhetorical question.” 

Ignoring him, you down another glass and begin to pace, your mind racing to piece together everything that’s happened between you. Right now the details are fuzzy —whizzing past your head in rapid succession but they’re there. Taunting you from every angle. Reminding you that, yeah, you’re definitely crazy for letting this stranger into your house. For giving him so much when he returns so little. For assuming that offering up even an inkling of kindness would gain you anything but absolute bullshit in return.

“Am I crazy for wanting to know why you’re always here? Why, even when you’ve barely been touched by another one of your stupid anomalies, you always show up in the middle of the night?”

He’s silently staring, looking up through his lashes at your outburst. Somehow throughout it all his face remains completely neutral, barely a muscle out of place as you continue your rant, yelling about him and how he doesn’t care about you —how he’s just using you for something you don’t even understand. 

By the end of it, you’re nearly in tears, gripping the glass in your hand so tight you’re certain it’s about to break. Everything is tense and hot and despite the calmness that washes over your face once you’re done, inside you’re messy. A mixture of emotions you can’t quite place as you watch Miguel stand up, take the glass out of your hand, and slowly lean in. 

“In every universe you are infuriating. Every single one. In my experience, there’s not a single one out there that you reside in that isn’t filled with a rage I haven’t understood. You think I want to keep secrets from you? You think I don’t want to tell you everything each time I step through that window?” 

He’s so close you can feel his breath against your face.

“I know you don’t think I know you, but I do. Trust me.” 

“How?” 

Something in him changes then. A switch of some kind flipping mid-thought, causing him to back away and look towards the window in your bedroom. “I know your favourite meal of the day is breakfast because it reminds you of mornings with Ben,” he says, still looking, avoiding your gaze entirely as your brows perk up. “I know that your favourite song is Blue Moon because it’s on that album that May used to play when she’d do all the housework.” 

There’s no way he knows that based on you in other universes. Taking into account the few spider people you've met, it's obvious everyone is slightly different. Not all of them look and act the same so Peter must’ve told him about you —about your childhood and how the two of you were practically raised on bacon, eggs and Billie Holiday. It’s the only plausible excuse for how confident he is in all of this. 

In how when he finally looks at you with sympathy in his eyes.

“I know you’re a geneticist but your focus isn’t R&D —it’s biotech. I know this cause—“

He stops before he can even begin to explain, leaving you wanting. Yearning. Your mind and heart working in panicked tandem to get him to talk as he rapidly blinks and looks around. 

It’s obvious then that he’s said too much. For a little too long he ran his mouth and now he’s about to suffer the consequences in the form of anxious movements that have him sidestepping around you and moving towards the exit. 

Out of habit, you tell him to stop —to wait for just a second but like Miguel, he doesn’t listen. Doesn’t stop in hesitation as you stand frozen in the middle of the living room, watching his suit form directly over the clothes you let him borrow as he opens the window and leaves.

-

How do you move on from this? 

It’s a question you ask yourself as you lie on the floor, eyes shut tight. Your breath is heavy. Underneath the weight of the information that’s suddenly been thrust upon you, it’s hard to form steadied breaths. Your chest shaking; twitching as you count your breaths and try to come up with a solution. 

You could talk to Peter. Maybe get him to convince Miguel to come back. You know it’s probably the most unlikely outcome but you’re awfully stubborn and Peter’s always been the type to at least hear you out before he inevitably says no. If you could just form enough of a case to get him to help, maybe then he’d take enough pity on you.

Ugh, probably not. Peter’s nice but not that nice, especially when it comes to all his Spider-Man stuff. Aside from the aftermath of fights, he likes to keep all that separate —says it’s easier to keep you safe. The less you know the better and all that bullshit. 

Groaning, you press your palms against your eyes to try and get your brain to focus. To come up with something good and convincing. Something that’ll really tug on his heartstrings or—

You hear the lock of the front door click. Sitting up, you drop your hands to the floor and twist, watching as it opens to reveal a very tired, civilian-looking Peter with the messiest hair you’ve probably ever seen.

“Hey.”

“Hi."

As he steps further into the room, he yawns and throws his stuff onto the floor near the entrance, narrowing his eyes as you quickly shuffle into a standing position. 

“Why were you on the floor?”

“Just stretching.” 

“On hardwood?” 

He looks at you like you’re crazy as he passes by, making a beeline for the kitchen. Once there, he opens the cupboard and grabs a couple of protein bars, opening one almost immediately. 

“It’s good for your back.”

Raising his brow, he takes a suspicious bite, watching the way you fiddle with your hands. You’ve never been a good liar. At least, not with him. Over the years you’ve learned to lie for Peter —to always have an excuse ready for when he’s late or unable to show up at all— but never to feed him false information. It’s too hard with that stupid spider sense of his.

“How was work?” 

You’re not sure if he’s changing the subject to fish for further info or to actually progress the conversation, so you merely shrug, offering him a dull fine as you cross your arms over your chest. 

“Just fine?”

“Mhm.”

Usually fine is enough to get him to stop. As time’s gone on he’s learned to understand the limits of your responses —how fine usually means fuck off rather than yes now please ask me more. Right now though, it’s obvious he knows something’s up. That beneath it all you’re hiding something in plain sight. He can see it in the way you struggle to answer his question. How you press your lips together and awkwardly look away, trying to come up with some sort of placeholder response. 

“Any reason why?”

For a moment you think about coming clean right then and there. You think about telling him about Miguel’s most recent visit and how it went from zero to one hundred all the way back to zero in the span of minutes. It’s not like he’d be that mad, right? Besides, Miguel’s the one in charge, so all that information about knowing you and how you’re infuriating was told to you by him —not Peter. Therefore, no dirt on his hands, right?

But then you think of Peter and how he’s a firm believer in boundaries. How, since day one, he made it clear to you that he never wanted you getting involved in this life. That it was too dangerous for someone so fragile.

At first, you were pissed, mostly because you hated the idea of your little brother being stronger than you, but slowly you began to understand that he was a part of this whole other world you’d never be able to experience. A world too brutal for your stupid unmodified body to handle. 

The same world Miguel is in. The same world other universe you is maybe in too. A thought that makes you wonder if maybe this is all pointless, because regardless of who you try to convince —Peter or Miguel— ultimately one of them will deny you the right. 

The statistics are there, stacked against you, so instead of continuing like you want you just sigh, accepting defeat. (For now.) 

“Exhausting. Harry was on another rampage.”

“About what?”

“Time constraints. Apparently Norman’s on our ass about wanting this project finished so he can present it to some new board.” 

“For funding?”

You nod, watching him finish the rest of his bar and move on to the next. “I guess there’s this new company that wants in? I don’t know. Norman refuses to tell us but Harry says they’re some sort of start up.” 

“Interesting.” 

You pray to god that the details you’re giving him are enough to deter him. To keep him here in this conversation so that he doesn’t decide to explore any further. 

“Did Harry give you a name at all?”

You shake your head.

“Hm.”

The gears in his head are turning then. He’s got that far-off look in his eye he always gets when something piques his interest a little too hard. The one that makes the lids of his eyes sort of slip to the halfway point while his jaw falls slack. Whenever it happens you have to hold in a laugh because he always looks so ridiculous, like he’s about to fall asleep, even though it’s obvious he’s just focusing a little too hard for his brain to remember how to properly present his face. 

“You good?”

“Yup.” He takes another bite, finishing off the second bar before throwing the wrappers in the trash under the sink. “Just tired.” 

Immediately you take this as an opportunity to shift the conversation further onto him. To distract yourself from the creeping thought that’s telling you to keep trying. “Rough day?”

He nods and instinctively both of you move towards the couch, sitting on your usual sides.

“Two robberies and a car chase.”

“Yikes.”

“And in the middle of the chase Jonah kept calling me asking me to get pictures of Spider-Man so afterwards I had to stage some.”

“Were they any good?”

He scrunches up his face which tells you they weren’t.

“Well, at least it’s over?” you offer, flashing him a fake grin that falls once you hear that familiar beeping in his backpack. 

Immediately, it shifts your mind back to Miguel. To how his breath felt against your skin with each accidental confession. You remember how awful it made you feel, standing so close to him, the rage inside his chest reaching out to touch your own. 

Thinking back, it suddenly dawns on you how quiet it all was. How the words tumbling from his lips somehow barely registered through the anxious ringing of your ears. And how regardless of the small, yet empty space between you made you feel like you were being enveloped entirely. You can still imagine every movement of his lips. The curling motions formed over statements you’ll never get the answers to. 

Watching Peter jump from the couch to his bag you’re reminded of this. Taunted by it as he pulls out that stupid watch and Miguel’s masked face suddenly appears, telling him there’s another anomaly in some world you’ve never heard of. 

It makes your skin itch, hearing his voice again. The way it strains through the hologram, prompting Peter to spring into action, ripping both his hoodie and shirt over his head to reveal that familiar spider emblem that now makes you sick to your stomach. 

“I’m, uh —I gotta—“ 

As he hooks a thumb over his shoulder you merely nod, watching the way he sort of perks up at your acceptance. 

“Get home safe,” you tell him then, watching the frantic movements of his hands pulling off the rest of his outer shell until he’s reaching into the front pocket of his backpack to grab his mask.

After he puts it on you lose all focus, wondering how the hell you’re supposed to move on from this. How every day moving forward you’re going to have to sit on the sidelines, watching him live while you’re forced to forget.

It’s not fair, is it?

You can feel the sting of tears beginning to form as you stare at Peter messing with the watch on his wrist. Quicker than you can think to suppress them, they begin to pool at every corner, threatening to break free as your front door suddenly becomes obscured by a warm-toned, octagonal portal. 

“I’ll call you as soon as I get home,” he tells you. 

Pressing your lips together, all you can do is nod, forcing yourself to remain as calm as possible as he waves goodbye and steps through, leaving you there to stare at the now empty space that continues to glow; the portal’s reflection dancing across the room. 

Delicately, it flickers in and out as its existence begins to dwindle, reminding you that once again you’re alone, feeling the same effects of another spider person abandoning you in favour of something bigger than yourself. 

It feels weird to admit you’re jealous. That the envy that creeps through your veins feels familiar yet foreign as you wipe your eyes and cough out the sob that’s been sitting in your throat. 

Embarrassingly, you have to force yourself not to let it overtake you as you stand from the couch and move towards the portal, suddenly feeling the urge to jump in after him.

He’d surely kill you if you did. He and Miguel and probably any other spider person present. These portals aren’t meant for you. Everyone involved has made that very clear that you’re not meant to know about this life and the way it works. 

And yet, as you inch closer the temptation grows. Filling you with a thousand what if’s as you reach out to graze the light dancing before you.

It tingles against your fingertips like static, bouncing off each cell of skin at such high speeds you have to force your hand back in shock, laughing.

“What the…”

You push your hand out again, noticing the portal begin to decrease in size, its slow-moving layers starting to cave in on themselves the longer you stand there staring. Waiting. Debating whether or not to take the plunge into the unknown. 

Not going in should be the obvious choice. Inter-dimensional travel is something you always anticipated to be a myth, so there’s no telling the actual science behind it now that it’s so obviously not. If you step in you could easily die —come out the other side a complete scramble of decomposed elements. You could lose your memories or simple motor functions or the entirety of your soul. Anything’s possible. 

In fact, the only thing you’re certain of is the argument that will inevitably ensue if you manage to make it. It’ll be a big one —an unforgivable one filled with consequences you aren’t sure you’ll be able to handle. Peter will probably give you the silent treatment for a while, if not indefinitely, and Miguel will most likely yell at you until you’re deaf.

Still standing there, watching the portal become smaller and smaller you debate the worth of it all. The potential outcomes and how maybe, for once, it might be best to fight for something you want rather than run away like you usually do. 

It’d certainly make for an interesting experience if you come out of this alive, right?

-

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[getitoutofmymindwrites]

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x F!Reader

Summary: Ok, so this is part of a bigger story I had in mind (for my own pleasure 😅). Dieter and the reader are in a kind of established relationship, admitting feelings for the first time, amidst a complicated situation which is not mentioned at this point. And then the bodies do the talking.

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings: 18+ mdni, SMUT, a little angst, insecurities, unprotected piv, let me know what am I missing.

A/N: I had no purpose whatsoever to write a fanfic.. BUT. I woke up at 3 in the morning and I just grabbed my phone and started typing. I just needed to get it out. I don’t know what’s happening and I don’t know where this blog is going! English is not my native language, so I apologize for any mistakes, any feedback is most welcome! If anyone takes the time to read this, thank you and I hope I’ll keep you a good company as all of you do!

Two hearts, one body.

“Where is that shy girl I fell in love with, in Italy?”, he laughs out at some spicy comment you made.

He was sitting on the couch of his living room, with you straddling his thighs. You’re both freezing in place, but he quickly recovers like he’s at peace with what he just confessed out of nowhere, while you, on the other hand, are panicking inside.

“You- you can take it back if you want, it’s ok..”. you mutter shyly, not daring to look at him directly.

“No, I’m good.”, he says calmly.

“You are?”, you reply, widening your eyes.

“Mmhmm”. A warm smile spreads to his face, reaching the wrinkles around his eyes.

At that point it feels hypocritical to not admit it, too.

“Ok, that’s good..” Ok, just say it.

“I’m- I’m in love with you, too..” you respond with great effort. Why is this so hard? Why you act this way, feeling so much but choosing to say so little?

But you know why.

“I know, baby..”, he’s still smiling with such warmth in his eyes, almost like he’s talking to a shy child.

“You do?”, you still look and sound so surprised.

“Yeah!”, he laughs calmly.

“How do you know?”. You know deep down that your face is your sentiment map, you can’t hide shit, but you want to hear him say it.

He closes his eyes and he’s taking a deep breath like he’s trying to choose his words to better explain it to you.

“Do you remember what you said to me that night on that car hood back in Italy?” He’s looking at you, expectantly.

“About you, you mean?” He is nodding, waiting for your answer.

Your mind traces back to that conversation, under that summer night sky, when you tried to describe him, describe what you saw in his face every time you looked at him, with the words almost failing you. You didn’t know him long at the time, but you could feel his vibe. You could always sense someone through his eyes. Sometimes you couldn’t exactly put it in words but you had that feeling.

“About you, being ‘pure flowing sentiment’?”, you reply.

Even then you weren’t sure if he’d understand what you meant, english not being your native language and not knowing exactly how to express it. But he did understood. More than you thought.

“Yes, baby. That’s how I know. It takes one to know one, you know.”

He seems to contemplate whether to reveal more or not. But he does.

“You ‘re revealing yourself to me every time we fuck.” He looks at you, serious now. You swallow, hard. Fuck, he knows. He always knew. He sees right through you.

“And considering the amount of time we spend fucking, you can only imagine the secrets you’ve spilled to me, so far.” He smiles mischievously.

“Will you stop with the word fuck, already?” You laugh nervously.

“Why love, am I making you uncomfortable? Or wet?”

He slowly lifts his back off the back of the couch and almost glues his body to yours. Not breaking eye contact, he’s sliding his hand in your panties, looking for evidence to support his case. You slap his hand away, giving him a cunning look.

“Or maybe I’m just having fun.”, you shoot back with a smirk, in an attempt to get the upper hand.

“Yeah, because that’s who you are.”, he suckles.

“Oh, blaming a girl for enjoying herself now, are we?!”, you try to release some of the tension.

“No, no!”, Dieter laughs nervously. Of all people, he would be the last to judge a person by his sexual habits. “You know I’m insatiable honey, BUT” he says with intense conviction, “that’s not your cup of tea, my little introvert, pretending to be an extrovert! You express yourself through sex, love. It’s an intimate act for you, even when you let me do all those filthy things I want to do to you.” He gently bites your earlobe and captures it between his lips and tongue. Fuck. You swear he’s already fucking you in his mind.

You feel his sparse beard prickling your cheek, his hot breath on your skin. And now your panties are ruined. He moves back to look at you and continues.

You are confessing everything to me baby.” His eyes look wild now, there is a familiar darkness in them.

And he goes on. Like he didn’t just dismantled you. He’s got to make you whole again, piece by fuckin’ piece.

“This is how you communicate anything is too hard to put into words. Through physical connection; how much you care, how frustrated or how happy you feel. Every time we fuck, I see you. I feel you. I know you.” His thumb is on your bottom lip now, caressing it softly.

FUCK.

“Fuck- fuck, it’s- it’s too much Dee, it’s too much, I mean; I can barely breathe sometimes, I can’t even begin to describe it; every time I- I see you, or hear your voice, or when I notice all those little details on your body, or at your behavior, or the way you move.. fuck, even the way you fucking breath, I mean; get a grip, woman and it just overwhelms me, I just-, I can’t-..” you’re spiraling now, not knowing if you should stop, or keep going, if you even made any sense.

“I know baby, I know.. When it comes to you, words are failing me, love. And I think- I hope, they’re failing you too.” He’s cradling your face, he’s so sentimental, so honest, all the barriers between you are crumbling down.

“They are, they fuckin’ are.”, you say desperately, holding his cheeks between your hands, your brows frowning deeply.

And there it was.

It was so natural, so organic, you just needed to be skin on skin. Nothing else mattered at that point. No words left to be spoken.

You were both pretty sure they hadn’t been invented yet, anyway.

Both your clothes flew off you in rushed, jerky movements, like time was of the essence.

And it was.

He wraps his arms around your back and he tightens you to his chest as if he wants to make you one with him. Two hearts in one body.

He kisses you so deeply, goosebumps are spreading across your whole body. His mouth is exploring every part of yours, sucking on your tongue, bitting your bottom lip, kissing the pain away afterwards.

Your pussy is dripping and it clenches so hard you think you’ll come right there and then. His hands moves and grabs your head, tangling and squeezing his fingers through your hair. 

He is desperate like you are, to give. To give everything he has. To make you understand.

He’s roaming his hands to your back caressing you as he devours your mouth. The moment is so intense, the feel of his hands on you, his fingers so soft and gentle, his cock warm and stiff pressing against your folds, the way he is panting trying to not break the kiss for air, the deep moans and his pleading face, his scent.. his fucking scent.

And you snap.

Your orgasm comes out of nowhere, your cunt clenching hard around nothing, almost painfully. You let out an inaudible cry in his mouth while your whole body is trembling, your come running on the insides of your thighs and onto his lap, pooling at the base of his cock.

He freezes in place and cradles your face with both his hands, his eyes wide and fixed on yours.

“Baby..?” His voice filled with lust.

You look down in embarrassment.

He tries again, softer this time. “Love, did you just come?”

“I’m- I’m so sorry, I- I don’t know what happened, it came out of nowh-“

“Don’t- don’t you ever apologize to me. Fuck, baby, you’re killing me here. I literally haven’t even touched you yet and you’re giving me everything?”

“You’re- you’re not annoyed?”

“Why on earth would I be annoyed?”, he looks puzzled.

“Because I ruined the moment?” Stupid insecurity.

“Baby; this is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”, he whispers, leaving a trail of open mouthed kisses on your neck while saying it.

A deep shade of red splashes through your cheeks as you lean back your head to grant him better access and you smile shyly, biting your bottom lip.

He keeps going down to your chest kissing you, licking you and then he takes your nipple in his hot mouth. He flickers his tongue and then he is biting your sensitive bud and releases it with a sucking motion, while his other hand tweaks your neglected nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

You want to scream at the sensation and you are grinding your clit on his cock to get any kind of friction. His cock is twitching and pre-come is running through his slit. You feel his warm liquid joining your juices and your mouth waters. You want to taste him, to fuck him with your mouth, to choke on his length, anything to extinguish this unbearable feeling of lust.

“Darling, I need you to sit on me or I’m gonna lose it”, he whispers, touching your lips with his, his mustache tickling your kiss-swollen skin, sending a new wave of desire at your lower body. He is suffering, too.

Resting your forehead on his, you lift your hips above him, he’s lining his glistening head through your folds and you sink slowly onto his aching cock, bottoming out, both of you moaning at the feel of stretch.

“Jesus Christ, always so tight- so tight for me, you’re squeezing me so good..” his lips on your neck under your jawline, his nose pressing against it.

You barely have a second to adjust to his thickness and he sets a relentless pace, desperate to fill every inch of you.

You don’t care, this is your favorite part. The moment he splits you open without any preparation, a painful reminder that he’s ruined you for any other man. “Yes, baby, wreck me please, wreck me; don’t hold back.”, you’re whimpering in his mouth.

He doesn’t even let you move, his left hand wrapped around your waist while his right is holding your hip with a bruising grip pinned down, to thrust into you as deep and hard as he can.

Oh, and he can.

You are full to the brim, his pounding is so fast that you can’t really feel him pulling back before every thrust. Just a constant fill and a sweet ache as he’s hitting your deepest spot, making your legs weak. You are moaning loudly, unable to control yourself. You grab his shoulder and the back of his neck to keep yourself steady.

"Do you see what you’re doing to me? Do you feel how hard you’re making me?" He is slowing down so you can feel every ridge and every vein of his massive length and he whispers in your ear, the right side of his nose pressing on your temple.

"..with your soaked cunt and your pretty little sounds, you’re driving me crazy.." He is pulling out, oh-so-slowly and he slams in you all the way in. And then he does it again and again and again..

"Fuck, Dieter-" is all you manage to respond through your haze. You are so close, waves of pleasure pass through you and you just don’t want any of it to end. “Pl- please move baby, please..”

“I am moving baby, tell me what do you need?”

You are lost for words, unable to answer.

“Do you need more baby, is that it?” For fuck’s sake, YES! If only you remembered how to speak..

“Yesyesyes” you breath out. He’s smiling with pleasure and he starts fucking the air out of your lungs again.

He aims to please.

“I can feel you tightening around me baby, that’s it, come for me.”

You are so, so, close, a warmth spreading throughout your body, making you feel dizzy. You are right there, all you need is just. A little. Push.

He’s close too, but he wants to feel your release, your tight walls flattering and gripping him in first, before he let go. He moves his hand from your hip to your clit, rubbing it with his thumb in quick circles and nudges your jaw with his nose to make you look at him.

“Just let it go my love, I’m not going anywhere, I’m right here with you. Let go.”

You feel all his muscles tensing from the effort, beads of sweat forming on his forehead, but he doesn’t stop until you reach your high.

His panting as he’s slamming deep inside your heated core, the sound of his balls slapping against your ass, his eyes never leaving yours and the meaning of his words is what it takes for you to come undone. You let go.

You’re coming so hard, your body is shaking uncontrollably, you’re gasping for air as you try not to break eye contact. You don’t wanna miss a bit of him.

“There you go.. That’s my good girl, doing so good for me, taking me so well.”

You lay your forehead on his shoulders, trying to ground yourself.

“That’s it, breath sweetheart, breathe.” He’s praising you, guiding you through your aftershocks, as you come down from your high.

“Fill me up baby, I need you to fill me up, please.. Give me everything and I will take it. I’ll take it all.” you almost cry out.

He’s pounding into you once, twice, three times and then he’s spilling inside you, with a guttural groan deep from his chest, emptying himself, his hips never stopping, fucking his spend as deep in your core as he can, like he’s trying to keep it there.

“Fuck, woman, you’re gonna be the death of me..” he whispers as he comes down from his high..

You chuckle lightly and you place kisses all over his sweaty face, savoring the saltiness of his skin.

You stay in each other’s arms until your breathing returns to normal. Then, he leans against the couch while holding you to his chest, his cock still burried inside you.

You close your eyes as you listen to his heartbeat and you think about what was said with your words and your bodies. You know it’s all real and that’s what hurts the most. The inevitability of what will come next. You want to let yourself feel the peace and happiness of the moment, but you know that soon it will all come crashing down.

And there’s nothing anyone can do about it.

5 days to go.

[tarisilmarwen]

Rebels Rewatch: "Legends of the Lasat"

Kevin Kiner please take all my money forever.

Right, attempt two at this. Seriously Tumblr what is the point of having an auto-save feature for posts if it doesn't actually save a decent previous version of the post?

Also WHY THE HELL DID CNTRL+Z DELETE BASICALLY THE WHOLE DAMN POST?!

Anyway.

I'm glad we got to visit this moon space base location again, I think it's such an interesting design.

Another tightly-written opening dialogue exposition scene here, in a few short sentences we learn what they Spectres are here for and why, and that the mission is urgent.

Lol Ezra being evasive about Hondo being his contact. I do wonder how exactly Hondo got that transmitter to Ezra. Did they reconnect sometime offscreen? Did Ezra swipe it during "Brothers of the Broken Horn"? Did Hondo surreptitiously leave it in Ezra's pocket?

However it happened, it's adorable that this once-ruthless bloodthirsty greedy pirate basically decided, "I MUST BEFRIEND THE BABY JEDI, HE'S MY FRIEND NOW I CLAIM HIM."

The camerawork in this scene is phenomenal. This first shot that tracks the Spectres and then dollies just around the corner, as if we are also peeking around it with the characters? This fast almost 270 rotating pan across the Spectres as they make short work of the troopers? Stellar.

(You can also tell they had budget to spare for this episode because the Imperial officer has a face. Lol.)

Love it when they let Ezra be casually awesome.

Hera sounds so aggrieved that Hondo is Ezra's contact lol.

And here we get the reveal, Zeb was captain of the High Honor Guard of Lasan. A bit later in the episode we learn this consists of being a bodyguard protector of the royal family specifically and all citizens of Lasan in general. Sooooo yeah, quite a bit of heavy personal guilt for Zeb here, feeling like he, specifically, personally, failed his entire world. Ouch.

"Hondo could use a little help." <3

Zeb's expressions this scene are painful. :(

Hondo being so dang fond of Ezra aww.

Though not so fond that he doesn't immediately screw everyone over, greedy bastard.

I saw Zeb rolling his eyes there, animators.

So Zeb's interactions with Chava and Grond are very much a Spiritualist vs Skeptic plot, with the expected tragic personal reason for the skeptic's doubt and disbelief. It's also heavily implied that the loss of Lasan, that trauma, made Zeb regress in maturity, made him snippier and more petulant and churlish. As Ezra says later Zeb does act "like a child", so perhaps his being cast as the Child archetype in the Prophecy of the Three was not so off base lol.

Ezra has such cute smiles this episode. <3

LOL Hondo's chipper little "Hello!" at the Stormtroopers.

"Well. This must look... incriminating." This man is a delight in every scene.

I mentioned the camerawork right? This is another nice shot here, this pan down from the cockpit to the nose gun turret to meet Zeb.

Subtle animation appreciation moment: The smoke coming from the chimney top of the station.

...Is this Stormtrooper also voiced by David Oyelowo?

Ezra immediately noticing Zeb's scoffing like the empath he is. <3

Love love love seeing the unique cultural way that Lasat interact with the Force, the "Ashla" as they call it, mixed ritual and magitek, prophecies that revolve around certain narrative archetypes and symbolic figures. It's just so cool.

I haven't been talking much about the music yet (oh but believe me we will have much to say on that) but this cue here starts easing just slightly into the mysticism of the Lasat ritual. It's almost Stravinsky-esque in nature, carefully stepping flutes and clarinets, discordant strings. We incorporate just a very soft snippet of the Force theme.

Zeb auto-assuming Ezra is the child.

Lol Hondo putting his arm around that one Stormtrooper's shoulder.

He's so cute asjkhfkajsh. Look at him. He's all like, "Please Dad, can I chant with the weird purple people too?"

HE LOOKS SO FOND AND PROUD AWW.

The score takes a bit of an exotic turn, a mellow arabic flute and possibly a sitar adding to the texture of the melody.

The lighting in this scene egads.

I love this scene I love it so much. Ezra acting as counselor, with his mere presence and curiosity getting Zeb to open up about his past and fears and insecurities. There's so much hurt in Zeb's slumped posture, guilt and grief compete for space in his voice, and I don't think we see him this distraught again until after Kanan's death.

But with Ezra's encouragement, he pulls himself together.

Once again showing off the cool magitek with Chava's staff and Zeb's bo-rifle here and I just love the concept, I love the whole aesthetic of hearing whispers of destiny through the Ashla and then channeling the energy of the universe through arcane, almost magical technology to navigate the stars, like some kind of arcane mariners. And we all thought the bo-rifle was just some kind of standard ordinary weapon, SURPRISE, it's also an ancient Force-magic navicomputer.

And oh wow the parallels with the purrgil next episode and the Chiss sky-walkers in the Thrawn novels.

This is soooooo pretty. The animation here is gorgeous.

After the commercial cut we're in hyperspace and the Ghost is making an almost blind jump out into Wild Space. Hera doesn't seem terribly worried. (Behind the scenes material says she apparently does this all the time.) But the ship's safety protocols flip out when they sense the imploded star cluster and Hera quickly drops them into realspace and one of the most gorgeous moments of the series.

HNNNNNNGHGHHHHH.

This whole sequence is stunning. Some of the best animation of the show, accompanied by one of the best tracks in the score, the star cluster looking like a watercolor spectacle.

And the Stravinsky influenced instrumentation brings the strings front and center; a haunting choir whispers in the background.

Kanan putting one hand on the back of Hera's chair and the other on her shoulder, aww.

Just tell me you wouldn't want this as a wall painting. <3

Chava gives some inspiring words about not pidegonholing oneself into a single role in their prophecy and this motivates Zeb to find a well of inner courage and open himself up to the will of the Ashla.

What I wouldn't give for more on ancient Lasan tech, how their ships must have been designed to integrate with the bo-rifle staffs. It functions as pilot and navigator and also apparently encases the Ghost with a protective shield that keeps it from being crushed by the gravity.

Let that sink in a moment, the staff, when channeling the Force, can literally bend gravity around the ship.

AND AS "JOURNEY INTO THE STAR CLUSTER" WRAPS US IN A VIOLIN SOLO THAT EVOKES MYSTERY AND MYSTICISM KANAN AND EZRA SENSE THEIR HELP IS NEEDED AND CALMLY PLACE HANDS ON ZEB, LIKE THE LAYING OF HANDS DURING CORPORATE PRAYER, AND CHANNEL THE FORCE THROUGH THEM INTO ZEB, WHO LETS IT FLOW THROUGH HIM THROUGH THE RIFLE TO GIVE HIM THE CLARITY OF VISION TO SEE THE WAY THROUGH.

Subtle animation appreciation moment: The sparks that pop from a wall panel on the cruiser as Kallus attempts to have it follow the Ghost.

THE CHOIR COMES IN FULL BLAST.

AND ZEB CLOSES HIS EYES IN FAITH AS THE LIGHT TURNS BLINDING.

Whew! And what a rush! The absolute quiet in the score right afterwards gives us a moment to inhale and catch our breath.

Chopper of course chooses to be a pest, releasing the tension.

Lira San being the ancient lost homeworld of the Lasat fits right in with the whole arcane vibe of their culture, like they were connected to a place and people that time forgot.

And tada, we leave with a character arc complete, a new hyperspace route plotted and everything bathed in an aura of serenity.

This episode is one of the best of Season Two, if not the whole series. Everything comes together beautifully in the third act and the story has a feel of both spiritual transformation and wonder. I've already gushed about how interesting and unique the Lasat culture is, how it's presented as a mix of mysticism and technology, with prophecies and wise women, royal families and warriors, and navigators that explored the stars, guided by the Ashla.

Zeb gets more character growth in one episode than some characters get in a season, and he's largely "finished" after this, his issues with his past resolved. (Which isn't to say I wouldn't have loved more character focus on him, just that this is so phenomenal.) His heart-to-heart with Ezra is touching and illustrates just how close they've grown.

And did I mention this episode was pretty? This episode is super pretty and the music is straight fire.

10/10 no complaints. Would give Kiner my money again.

[so-much-for-stardust6]

Halloween Party- Graham Coxon x Reader

first post on here lol so this’ll be very messy.

lowercase intended

warnings: smut

summary: you go to alex’s halloween party to impress graham who you learn isn’t going. what happens when you and damon get drunk together and play spin the bottle?

it was finally here. halloween night. the one night everyone hosts parties on, especially a good mate of mine. alex always hosts parties on halloween, obviously making costumes mandatory. this year i decided to dress a bit revealing in hopes to impress a certain shy guitar player. i wore a white dress, revealing quite a bit of my chest, with white elbow long gloves, white fishnets, some fluffy angel wings accompanied by a white fluffy halo sitting on top my head. i even found some perfect white mary janes to complete my look. almost complete my look. i heard knocking from my front door, signaling me that damon was here. i quickly finish up my simple makeup, white eyeshadow with clear lip gloss. i grab my crossbody bag and a small red jug before opening the door to greet the man who was wearing a sailor outfit.

“out of everything, dames, you chose a sailor?” i step out my place and lock the door before shutting it.

“nope. i’m a SEXY sailor.” he proudly grins, hands to his hips.

“uh…no.” i walk past him and start heading to the elevator.

“come on, y/n, why don’t you fancy me?” he genuinely questions.

“because i fancy someone else, dames, you already know that.”

“ugh yeah yeah, head over heels for my best friend.” he shudders.

we finally reach his car and start heading to the party.

“so what’s with the jug?” he motions to the mysterious jug at my feet.

“it’s blood for my costume.”

“a bloody angel? how sexy.” he winks at me.

“exactly what i’m going for.” i smile happily.

“is this all for graham?” he asks, a look of worry plastered all over.

“yeah?”

“oh, my dear y/n…he won’t be there, he declined. he’s staying home.” he kept looking at me and then the road and then me quickly.

“turn around, i’m going home.” i didn’t hesitate.

“oh come on, y/n, you don’t need to have graham there to have fun. it’s gra anyways, he’s too shy to do anything fun.”

“i don’t care, i was going to try and make a move dames! god, why does he have to be a party pooper sometimes.” i grumble.

we reach the destination, cars littering the area.

“can you help me with the blood, dames?” i grab my stuff and step out.

“of course, love.” he grabbed the jug from me and began pouring it all over.

he poured where it would look good, mostly over my chest.

“jesus damon, i think my boobs are soaked in blood.”

“that’ll be a nice sight.” he smirks.

i whack his arm to which he hisses and stupidly holds it in “pain”. we put the jug away and start heading to the life of the night. music deafened my ears and bright lights blinded my eyes. i grabbed onto damon as he lead us straight to the kitchen, aka the bar. he poured himself a red solo cup of straight vodka before downing it in one gulp. he then cautiously poured me some, watching at everyone near him. glad to know he’s watching out for me. he hands me the cup and i do the same as him, wanting to get drunk quickly and end the graham-less night. the more damon and i drank, the more i forgot about the shy man i’m head over heels for. i don’t know how or when but damon and i ended up on the dance floor, dancing on one another. i wasn’t on him but he was on me, shaking his ass in front of me. he wasn’t necessarily twerking but just had his hands on his knees and he moved his ass up and down. i laugh at his attempt and gave it a firm slap to which he yelped at. he went back to dancing on me, grinding on me like a girl would on a guy. i felt him up, his curves and everything. he turned around to face me, hooded eyes staring into mine before he sloppily connected our lips. i kissed back a bit but we both pulled away and stared at each other before bursting out laughing. we then made our way to the kitchen when we were stopped by alex, the man of the hour.

“hola guys! i love you guys so much! let’s play spin the bottle!” he was already shit faced drunk.

he led us to a different room with a couple people sitting in a circle, an empty vodka bottle in the middle. damon’s hand was holding mine this entire time even when we sat down next to each other. alex went first and landed on some random girl, it obviously got steamy quickly cause it was alex. dave went next and landed on alex, to which he rolled his eyes to.

“don’t make out with me you wanker.” he warned.

as they kissed, everyone including damon hollered and whooped. they pulled away and immediately damon went. the bottle slowed and eventually landed on me.

“2nd times a charm, y/n.” he winked.

“oh hush it.” i smacked his arm again.

i looked at everyone in the group as they whistled at us, except one guy. he was unfamiliar, a mask hiding his identity. he was dressed as a devil, just a red button up, black trousers with a red cape and horns. i quickly dismissed the guy and went back to damon. i grabbed onto his collar and brought his lips to mine. we kissed even longer than the one on the dance floor, but still sloppy. i subconsciously moved to sit in his lap, his hands on my thighs. i held his face in my hands and deepened the kiss and added tongue. he began to move his hands up but i quickly pulled away and fell back. laughing my ass off on the floor, he soon joined in.

“sorry dames but you are NOT graham.” i wipe a tear that fell from laughing.

i looked up to look at the devil man, just staring. i stopped laughing, his whole vibe intriguing me.

“your turn, angel.” alex wiggled his eyebrows.

i sat back up and in my spot before spinning. i sat on my heels, waiting to see who i kiss. if i land on damon, i swear i might just say fuck it and fuck him. but then the bottle stopped on the mystery man.

“who the hell is this man!” damon argued, upset i didn’t get him.

i slowly crawled to the man, his position the same.

“hello there.” i softly said, stopping in front of him.

he just politely nodded in return. i huffed at him, sitting on my heels again.

i slowly begin lifting up his mask but he stops me to do it himself. he lifts it up barely enough to expose his lips. i bite my own at the sight of his beautiful lips.

“can i?” i ask.

he just nods. i then connect our lips, tasting the alcohol that he previously downed. i moaned at the taste, loving the whisky. the man wasn’t kissing back which upset me, so i began pulling away but his hands grabbed my face to pull me back. his sudden confidence causing me to gasp. i then go to sit in his lap like i did with damon. his fingertips burned my skin, the right way. i ran my hands up his chest, feeling whatever i can. i planned on stopping and getting up but his hand on my boob changed my mind. i threw my head back and moaned, his lips now kissing my neck. i gripped his shoulders, eyes squeezed shut.

“fuck this, i’m getting out of here.” i hear damon grumble, stomping away.

i opened my eyes to watch him leave, wanting to go after him but the man securing my legs around him distracted me. he then stood up and led us to a bedroom.

“have fun!” alex cheered at me.

i was confused on who this man was. i wanted to go to damon, comfort and apologize to him, but this guy refused. once we were in a room and we were on the bed, i pulled away.

“look man, i gotta go to my friend. he needs me.” i start to get up but he grabs my wrist.

“fuck damon. i need you more y/n.” the man finally speaks.

his voice was familiar, very very familiar. it scared me, who was he? then it clicked. my eyes widen as far as they can and my mouth falls open. i try to get off him and stand up but i just fell to the floor. he stood up to help me but i scramble away.

“no…no fucking way…” i felt like i was dreaming.

it can’t be him. i finally get myself to stand up and go towards him. i reach up to his mask but he stops me again. i stay there, staring into the eyeholes of the mask, trying to confirm my theory. he then let my wrist go, letting me proceed my journey to take off his mask. and i do. i peel the mask off, instantly dropping it from my trembling fingers. there he was. the shy guy that i’ve fallen for, lips flushed pink from kissing me. he kissed me.

“graham…” i breathed out.

“hello.” he sucked his bottom lip.

“how…? damon said you weren’t gonna be here…” i was confused, the alcohol making this a much more bigger deal than it should be.

“he was right, i didn’t want to come but i-uh-i-i wanted to see you…” he looked down at the ground, nervously.

“i came to see you! but when i knew you weren’t coming, i wanted to leave but it was too late.”

“is that why you were kissing damon like that?” his voice sounded hurt.

“that shit meant nothing, gra. you even heard me say that he wasn’t you.” i defended my drunken actions.

“what would you have done if it was?” he glanced up at me, bottom lip still sucked in.

“everything. you don’t know how much i want you, graham.”

“then show me.”

“what?”

“show me how much you want me.” his low voice turning me on.

i didn’t hesitate to kiss him again, hands immediately in his soft hair. something to finally cross off my bucket list. his hands softly rested on my hips, slightly gripping whenever i’d tug on his hair. we moved back to the bed, graham moving to lay against the headboard. i crawled to him, his bottom lip being attacked by his nibbling teeth.

“do you want me as much as i want you gra?”

“a lot, y/n. i’ve always wanted you since i saw you. fuck damon-wait, DON’T fuck damon…fuck me. please…” he whined, begging.

i moaned as my response to his neediness. i begin to strip him, unbuttoning his shirt and untying his cape. he went to take off the horns but i stopped him.

“keep them on. they’re cute on you.” i smile once he smiles.

“anything for you, love.”

hearing him call me that is different from when damon does. it gives me multiple butterflies and a contagious smile. i unbutton his trousers and struggled to pull them down but i do. i discarded his clothing all over the floor, not caring for them anymore.

“it’s unfair i’m naked, y/n. please undress..” he gave me puppy dog eyes.

“i can never say no to you.” i squeeze his cheeks, puckering his lips so i can kiss them.

i take off my bag and threw it wherever, hearing the stuff inside clatter together. i then unzip my dress, slowly pulling it down my body, eventually exposing my bare top. graham’s eyes go wide at the sight of my nude self, well only my boobs so far. he bites his lip, flaring his nostrils as he whines out, thrusting his hips upwards. i chuckle at him, getting drenched at his attitude. i began to quickly take everything else off except my halo since he said so.

“you look like a real life angel, it fits.”

we went back to kissing, my clothed pussy sitting so perfectly onto his hard cock. his hips would stutter up and he’d rub against me causing me to moan.

“please, baby. please fuck me, i want you so bad. i wanna feel you so bad.” he begs, whimpering for me.

“god, you’re such a good boy for me.” i kiss his cheek.

fuck the teasing and foreplay, his ass is getting his reward immediately. i’ve been wanting this forever. WE’VE been wanting this forever and dragging this out even more will be absolute torture for us. i sit up a bit to take off my underwear, throwing that wherever as well. i then pull down his boxers, hard cock springing out. the sight of seeing him like this made my stomach rumble with butterflies. i quickly took his boxers off before sitting back on his lap.

“you don’t know how much i’ve wanted you…how long i’ve wanted you.”

“please please, hurry and show me. i’m yours…” and then i came conscious at that exact moment.

hearing graham coxon tell me he’s all mine released some sober primal animal. i took his dick and stroked him a bit. already hearing his moans made me wanna cum. i then sat his tip against my folds before sinking down on him. we both loudly moaned, feeling complete like this. like his dick was made for me and my pussy was made for him. matched like a god damn puzzle. i began rolling my hips, pleasure already being overwhelming. his hands went to play with my boobs, hypnotized by them through his cute glasses. i played with his hair, loving the feeling of it between my fingers. he began kissing my neck, nibbling at the skin and harshly sucking to leave marks.

“fuck yeah gra…mark me..i’m all yours.” i bounced up and down, his hands feeling whatever he can.

he found my sweet spot, sucking on it to earn my loud moans. his name just spewing out my mouth, it felt right. my riding started to slow down and i noticed.

“switch.” i breathed out.

“huh?” he pulled away from my neck

“switch, gra. i’m getting tired.” the sweat on my forehead proving right.

he understood and positioned us to where he could flip over easily. he succeeded. he took over and began thrusting into me insanely. he didn’t hold back at all. he waited for this moment every since he saw me, he felt guilty but he always wondered what it’ll feel like to be inside me. deep inside me. like right now. my legs wrapped around him, pushing him closer to me and he got deeper and faster. i scratched at his back, leaving marks but he didn’t care. his hair stuck to his forehead except some parts that swung with every thrust. he felt empty, connecting our lips fixing that problem. his hands were resting by the sides of my head, itching to feel me up but he knew he’d lose balance if he removed one. from the beginning he hit that one spot, and he kept hitting. i spat lewd noises into his mouth to which he returned every time he felt my fingernails against his skin or my fingers tug his hair. his glasses were basically off his face, just being held on by our faces smooshed together. i helped him out and pushed them up and they surprisingly stayed.

i pulled away from his lips slightly just to moan out, “fuck gra, i’m gonna cum.”

i pull his hair. a moan followed by a whimper escaped his puffy lips.

“me too, love.” he gripped the bedsheets next to my head.

we went back to kissing as we found it addicting, worse than cigarettes and alcohol.

“fuck gra! i’m-“ i cut myself off as i moaned loudly when i felt the coil in my stomach tighten to its max. and hearing him whimper out my name tipped me over the edge.

“i fucking love you, graham!” i moan out as i cum all over his throbbing cock, squeezing his shoulders.

he continued to thrust, almost there. my body turning cold from the insane overstimulation.

“fuck gra, cum in me.”

and that tipped him over the edge. he did exactly that.

“fuck! i fucking love you too, y/n!” he moaned, his glasses falling off his face and onto my chest.

i felt him fill me up, moaning at the feeling. he thrusted a few more times before eventually collapsing on top of me, after i grabbed his glasses and set them on the nightstand. he laid there, cheek smooshing against my chest. i felt his hot breath against my sticky skin. i began playing with his hair again, my new favorite thing to do.

“did you mean it?” he spoke up.

“mean what?”

he propped himself up slightly to look at me.

“are you drunk or did you mean it when you said you love me?” his voice back to shy and nervous.

“i’m drunk, gra.” his face immediately saddening at my words.

“but i meant everything i’ve said. i love you incredibly graham leslie coxon. more than you could ever know-more than i could ever know.” i rest my palm on his cheek, him leaning into it made me smile.

“oh gosh, y/n. you make me the happiest man in the world, even before today. hearing your name or even seeing you made my day 100x better. i want to be with you everyday. i love you so so so so so so sooooo much. even more than the beatles.” he sheepishly admits.

i playfully gasp at his words.

“not sir mccartney! oh how devastated will he be!” i dramatically rest the back of my hand on my forehead.

he laughs at me, kissing my palm and then the bare skin below him.

“will you be my girlfriend, y/n? so we can have many more moments like this.”

“sex or talking in bed?” i question.

the tip of his ears turn red while his face eventually does too.

“i’m joking, my love. of course i will. i wanna spend forever with you. eternity with you.” i pucker my lips, inviting him for a kiss to which he gladly accepts.

he struggles to climb close to me but gets there.

“god, can’t i marry you already?” he groans against my lips.

“one day, my love. soon” i caress his soft cheek before kissing him again.

we eventually got into a more comfortable position, taking off our head pieces that got quickly discarded on the floor. him laying on his back as i lay my head on his chest meant it’s his turn to play with my hair but i still found a way to play with his, reaching my arm up to his head. we talked our lovey dovey talk and eventually fell asleep, the sound of the crazy party outside the door was muted. little to my knowledge, graham subconsciously locked the door as it’s a habit, and i’m incredibly grateful since as we slept many horny people tried to pry their way in for a place to fuck. after the party ended, alex made his way throughout his house to kick out all the stray people, eventually stopping at our door. he unlocked the door with his key and swung it open but stopped himself from yelling once he saw it was us. he smiled to himself, happy graham grew balls to finally make a move. he always told graham that we’d be good together, a perfect match. he realized he was staring at our naked bodies entangled together and cringed at his accidental creepiness and left, quietly closing the door. the next morning felt magical, waking and seeing graham right next to me was like a dream. once he woke up too, we showered and dressed back in our dirty halloween clothes, making our way downstairs to see alex, damon, and dave all hungover eating breakfast. damon was about to bite into some toast when he looked up and dropped it.

“you fucker! damn you, graham, you stole y/n.” he complained.

“oh hush dames, it was never gonna happen.” i roll my eyes and rub graham’s back to reassure him.

“i know, i know. i’m only fucking with you, but it was nice to have you as a kissing buddy. missed you, care to spare one more.” he puckered his lips once graham and i got closer to the table.

i bent down to make it seem like i was gonna kiss him but i grabbed his toast and set it against his lips instead.

“no way. eat up, dames, it’ll help.” i pat his back before heading to make graham and i breakfast.

once i go into the kitchen, i saw all of them patting graham’s back basically congratulating him. i saw graham shyly smile and blush insanely before making eye contact with me, avoiding theirs. i wink and blow a kiss to him. he blushed even harder and looked away from me. holy shit, i love this man so much.

[bonny-kookoo]

Yoongi: Back Home

Based on this drabble written long ago. This post has been marinating in my drafts for a while now, and yall always want angst.

Tags/warnings: mafia AU, Angst, implied major character death- dead dove do not eat, attempted arson

Length: Short

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Loosing you had never been his plan.

You in general were never part of the plan.

But it all still happened, it still hurt, and he hopes whoever took you from him feels horribly stupid now considering he still continued to stay alive and continue his reign over his areas of the country. It didn't have any desired effects, at least not on the surface- Yoongi never cracked, never broke, never fell apart or loosened his grip.

But its still a wound he's hiding.

In his bedroom, your things are still left untouched, toys and blankets all around his offices never moved from when you'd last been there. He doesn't let anyone go near those things. Because deep down, he's scared.

If he loses physical evidence of your existence, were you ever there?

Sometimes it feels like you'd never been more than a fever dream his subcounsciousness had made up. Other times he looks at the pillows underneath his desk, and he's reminded of how you'd always sleep there whenever he worked late. You're not just a memory. You've been there. Left your marks on his soul like no other.

He knew one of you would one day go first. He didn't think it would be you.

He remembers the amount of blood he'd found in his office almost two years ago now. Patches of fur from your tail all over the place. Your collar, some of your toys, all soiled in the red liquid he's seen way too many times in his life. Everything had been tested. Twice.

It was yours. There was no doubt.

Your pale blue collar, color of the skies, still sits in the drawer of his desk, stained forever in what he can only imagine must've been fear and pain. Sometimes, he will look at it.

But he never dares to touch it.

Now, as he's visiting his old private home a little further away from headquarters, he readies everything by emptying the last canister of fuel onto the carpets. He doesn't want it all anymore. He doesn't need it.

You loved it here. Loved chasing the birds outside, loved getting lost in the woods, loved sleeping in the living room whenever the sun would slowly settle down, creating a golden spot just for you to bathe in.

Now it's empty. Everything has dust on it. Except- the kitchen?

Someone's been here, recently. He readies his gun.

Now that he looks more closely, there's indeed proof of someone or something roaming around the place. A squatter, maybe? Or a wild animal?

He's unsure. But he knows he doesn't want it here, disturbing the time capsule of the little bit of happiness he had left back then.

He now walks through every room, checks every spot he can think of, and anger rises when he sees the bed he'd shared with you all disheveled. Only then does he notice something moving once he's back downstairs, in the corner of the living room. A pile of blankets, empty wrappers of snacks and sweets all around, bottles of water and old juice.

He aims. The gun clicks into place, ready to fire.

And then the blanket falls, reveals black cat ears, pale pink, almost white inside, and two round eyes, pupils blown wide open as they swallow all color from those irises.

Yoongi has never taken down his gun quicker, safety clicking back in as he puts it back into its holster on his belt before he falls to his knees. Even all dirty and admittedly weak and sick, he'd never forget a face like that.

"You came back." You sigh happily.

And he holds you just a bit closer at that.

♥━━━━━━━━━━━♡━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

[hummingbird-of-light]

In Our Favor

Part 89

McCoy

McCoy laughed as he left class. Eugene had just told him about something that had happened to him over the weekend. Before he could respond a familiar arm slipped through his.

“Hey Chris!” he greeted her as he looked over.

“Hey Leo,” she smiled back. She looked over at Eugene, small frown resolving to a smile. “You were at the clinic the other night, right? I didn’t catch your name.”

“Eugene Dorsey,” Eugene got out in surprise.

“Christine Chapel. Nice to meet you.” Christine stuck out her free hand and shook Eugene’s.

“You going to be a doctor too?” she asked.

Eugene nodded.

“He got the highest score on our test last week,” McCoy said.

“Leonard was right behind me,” Eugene got out with only a light blush.

“Nice work!” Christine said. “My parents are surgeons, so I’ve always wanted to be in medical. Just still not sure if nursing or doctoring is what I want though.”

“You’ll be great at either!” Eugene blushed again as he heard himself. “I mean,” he stammered, “you already knew as much as those officers the other night.”

“No,” Christine said with a quick shake of her head. “I just know lots of doctor slang from my parents.”

“But you are going to be great at it, whichever you pick,” McCoy said. “You’re why Spock survived.” His face sobered from the grin he’d been sporting. “Even Dr. Boyce said that so you can’t argue.”

“I know,” Christine said quietly.

McCoy could feel Eugene looking at them both with puzzlement.

“I’ve got to get some homework done,” Christine said after a moment. “I’ll see you at dinner?”

“Of course,” McCoy said. “And after.”

“Ok. See you then.” She leaned up to kiss McCoy’s cheek before pulling her arm back. “It was nice to meet you; I’m sure we’ll see each other around,” she said to Eugene.

“Yes,” he said. “I mean, nice to meet you too.”

Christine gave a wave as she walked away.

“You said you were friends, I guess I didn’t realize that close.”

McCoy chuckled. “She was one of my first friends when I got sent away for school. And she did help me and Scotty before we could reveal our relationship. Everyone at school thought she was my girlfriend and we never confirmed or denied it.” He laughed again. “Jim still calls her my girlfriend as a joke sometimes.”

Eugene was looking at him with a confused face again.

“One of our teachers told Scotty to stay away from me,” McCoy explained. “But we’d already fallen for each other, and, well, good luck keeping me from something I want.”

“That’s dumb,” Eugene said. “Why should someone stay away from you?”

McCoy opened his mouth to speak, then stopped. He sighed.

“The teacher had some very wrong ideas about scholarship students. He thought he was protecting me. I’m glad to say his thoughts have changed on the matter.”

Eugene still looked puzzled.

“Who’s Spock? How did Christine save him?”

McCoy let out a quiet sigh. He knew Eugene’s ignorance of who he was wouldn’t last forever, but he had quite enjoyed the anonymity with him.

“Spock is our friend. He was still my bodyguard back then. He- he was shot during their rescue attempt of me and Scotty.” McCoy saw Eugene’s mouth drop open. “Chris knew more about first aid than the rest of us and took care of him until we got to a hospital.”

“Rescue attempt?” Eugene had stopped walking and was staring at him.

“Yes,” McCoy said with another quiet sigh. “You really don’t know who I am, do you?” His shoulders drooped. “We were kidnapped by Romulans. I- I don’t really want to talk about it.” A small shiver went down his spine. “But it’s all out there. It was reported on quite heavily during the trials.”

McCoy gave his head a small shake and smiled weakly at Eugene.

“I’m sorry, I don’t like to talk about it. We went through a lot and it still affects us sometimes.”

“Yeah,” Eugene said blankly. “I’m sure it does.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” They had begun walking again and now were in front of McCoy’s dorm.

“Yeah,” Eugene said idly. “Yeah, I’ll see ya later,” he said more firmly and gave McCoy a smile. “I’m sorry I brought it up.”

McCoy shrugged. “You didn’t know. It’s ok.”

He sighed as he entered their dorm room. McCoy knew with pretty fair certainty that Eugene was going to look it all up and find out who he really was. He hoped it wouldn’t change anything; he really enjoyed Eugene’s friendship.

Part 90

Scotty

Dinner was a happy affair. Everyone chatted about how their day had been and about what games they should play. That was at least until a familar blue figure entered the dining hall.

Scotty's eyes widened in surprise and he bumped his knee against Leonard's to catch his attention. Leonard couldn't help but frown slightly and shake his head.

Aporal slowly made his way over to where the food was served and grabbed a sandwich. Judging by the way he walked, he was apparently still in pain. However, he tried his best not to show it.

"What happened to him?"

Chekov sounded quite shocked and quickly several heads turned around to look at the Andorian.

"Did he get hurt during classes?"

"No, he didn't attend any course today."

"He looks miserable."

Whispers went through the crowd. Not only at Leonard and Scotty's table but also at others.

Scotty quickly got up from where he was sitting and hurried over to grab Aporal, who was about to leave the hall without looking at anyone, by his arm.

"Aporal-"

The Andorian turned around, a crooked smile on his lips.

"Hey, Scottish boy. I just wanted to pick up dinner." He held up the sandwich.

"I could have brought ye one. Ye could've just written a message," Scotty hissed.

Aporal only shrugged his shoulders.

"I'm attending classes again tomorrow. So why shouldn't I do this stuff myself now already?

Scotty glanced at their surroundings. Lots of cadets were staring at Aporal.

"But the others-"

"I don't care about the others, Scottish boy. They can look all they want. I'm still the prettiest guy at this whole academy."

It was obvious that Aporal was trying to overplay how hurt he was. Once again he put on his arrogant and hard shell.

"So... ye're okay with everybody knowing?"

Scotty certainly hadn't expected that. After all, Aporal didn't seem like the person who wanted to show any weakness.

"Why not? Everyone should know that nothing can keep the best cadet in this place down. Especially a certain group of people." Aporal glanced at the table where Francis and his friends were sitting.

Maybe he hoped for a reaction. Some kind of sign. But Francis didn't even pay attention to him. He just kept on chatting to the rest of his group.

"I... see. Do ye want to join us?"

For a moment, Aporal looked at Leonard and the others, but eventually he shook his head.

"I think I'd like to eat in my room tonight. Have fun with your friends."

With a wave of his hand, the Andorian left the hall, not looking back.

Scotty couldn't help but sigh. If only the boy would accept more help.

"Is the story about the attack true?" Cora asked, her eyes wide, when Scotty sat back down.

The Scotsman nodded slowly. There was no need for keeping it a secret anymore.

"Aye."

"And Aporal was the victim?" Even Jaylah seemed worried and shocked. "Why didn't you tell us, Montgomery Scotty!"

"We couldn't. We didn't know if Aporal wanted others to know," Leonard answered for him.

"So you knew about it too, Just Leonard?"

The prince nodded and Scotty started to explain just what had happened.

"I was the one who found Aporal, injured, and called for help. Leonard... Leonard helped me after the shock."

The memory was still horrible. And he knew that it would take lots of time to forget about the images.

"Oh Scotty..." Christine reached for his hand and squeezed it gently, giving him a sympathetic look.

"He... he's okay. He'll be fine," Scotty assured the others... and himself. He really hoped his words were true.

[cinewhore]

The Heiress of Misfortune - chapter one

Pairing: blackfem!OC Josephine Wellington & Sherlock Holmes & John Watson 

Rating: teen

Word Count: 2.4k 

Summary: Josie has the honeymoon from hell. Sherlock gets his first case in months. 

A/N: ..and we’re off! hope you all like this. Credit to the gif maker.  

The blood rushing through Josie’s ears roared louder than the ocean that surrounded the cruise liner. She attempts to steady her breathing, clasping her shaking hands together. This isn’t how honeymoons are supposed to go. She was supposed to be laughing with her head thrown back, hand over her heart, tears in her eyes over something Theo whispers in her ear. Dodging his roaming hands during dinner when he slips it under the table. Sneaky frenzied kisses within the shadows of the corridors.

Theo.

Josie couldn’t stomach removing the pillow from over his face. The once crisp white sheet was now soaked in a crimson red and Josie didn’t know what to do. Should she check his pulse? No, that was stupid seeing as at least a quarter of his blood covered the bed and the floor. At least she should throw a blanket over his body as a sign of decency. If only she could get her feet to move.

Slowly stepping out of her boots, Josie tiptoes over to the bed, choking back bile that threatened to spill from her throat.

“I’m so sorry, Theo.” she sobs, carefully taking the discarded towel off the edge of their bed and placing it over his body.

The door to their suite suddenly opens, a maid bursting through with new linens in her hands. Josie remembers that earlier that morning she requested newer linens because Theo is a klutz who can barely hold his wine sometimes. She forgot that she told the young woman, Rita, that she and Theo would likely be out enjoying last minute activities so she could just come in and drop them off. Bad idea on Josie’s part.

The woman's screams echoed throughout the entire suite, clean sheets forgotten as they tumbled from her hands.

“Rita, please, get some help!” Josephine shouts.

The maid stumbles backward before darting down the hallway.  

That was all Josie could remember. She could barely recount the rest of her trip, pulling into the harbor or the swarm of police that gathered her up and carried her off of the ship.

In just a span of a week, Josephine Wellington had become a bride and a widow.

. . . . . . . .

The holding cell wouldn’t be so bad if it wasn’t cold and damp. Josie pulls her cloak around her tighter, adjusting the hood to cover her face more securely.

It didn’t matter how many times Josie recounted the tale of what happened, Scotland Yard wouldn’t hear of such a thing. All they knew was that Josie was found in the room with Theo’s body, covered in his blood, and no one else saw a thing.

Josie looks down at her hand, the wedding ring still snug on her finger. It was the only thing that truly felt familiar during this particular time. She remembers how bashful Theo became as they strolled the park after a family dinner, her hand tucked in the crook of his elbow.

“Close your eyes” he whispered in her ear, halting their casual walk. Josie protests but with enough prodding, she acquiesces.

“Ok, now, turn around.”

She does as she’s told, face washed over in shock as she observes Theo on one knee. Her heart pounded, mouth gone dry. This can’t be happening.

“Theo Callahan whatever it is that you’re doing, I beg of you to get up.”

Theo smirks, readjusting his position. “You’ve managed to capture my heart, my spirits, my wallet.” It was true, Theo did not care about money. Whatever Josie wanted, all she had to do was ask.

“I can’t imagine the rest of my days without you by my side. I want to experience life with you forever. Josephine Alexandra Wellington, will you do me a great honor and marry me?”

Theo pulls a box out of his coat pocket, opening it up to reveal the most gorgeous diamond ring. The band was gold, engravings of my beloved inscribed on the inside. He waits expectantly.

“Theo, I-”

“Oi!”

Josie snaps out of her daydream, head turning toward the main gate of the jail yard. An office comes strolling towards her, shoulders pulled back. If his face matched his cocky attitude, Josie might’ve paid him more attention. He points a stubby finger at her.

“Alright, missy. Your bail has been posted, looks like you’re outta here.”

Josie sighs heavily, picking up her skirts and following the man over to the gates, ignoring the mocking and sneering looks from the men around her.

Josie feels a sense of hope filling her chest, excited at the prospect of seeing a familiar face. The budding smile drops as she’s escorted out, two men awaiting her. None of which were her father or uncles. She would’ve even accepted an associate of the family.

“Mr. Holmes, Doctor.” The man snorts, hocking before spitting in the grass nearby.

The two men nod at the officer before looking back at Josie. She balls her hands into fists, preparing for the worst outcome.

“Who are you?”

The mustached man smiles, the other one does not.

“Justice.”

. . . . . . . .

The carriage ride proved to be even less insightful than the initial meeting, Holmes and Watson sniping at each other constantly.

The carriage pulls to the right and Sherlock stares at Watson.

“Why are we not going home?”

“We are going home. We’re going to my home. Your place is a mess.”

Sherlock turns up his nose, lounging back in his seat like a petulant child. “Did the nanny tell you that?”

John cocks his head. “Mrs. Hudson is concerned about you, is all. You’ve barely left the flat in months.”

“Yes, well, there’s nothing of importance to me out here or on earth, entirely.”

“Such a drama queen.”

John turns to Josie. “My apologies, Mrs. Wellington. I’m John Watson and this here is my partner, Sherlock Holmes.”

Gears start to turn in Josie’s head. “Oh, I’ve heard of you before. You solved that Blackwood case. Nasty business that was, I heard.”

“Partners?” Sherlock grumbles.

This was off to a great start.

. . . . . . . .

John swings the door open to his house, wobbling over to the coat rack. “Honey, I’m home!”

The swishing of skirts and clicking of heels brings a wide smile to John and a raised eyebrow followed by a slight scowl from Sherlock.

A gorgeous woman appears, dressed in the finest gown Josie had ever seen. It didn’t resemble anything that she would normally procure from the market. Her brown skin glowed in the light, tight coils unbothered and free to move about as they please. Josie didn’t even realize her jaw had dropped a little until Sherlock pushed her mouth closed with his index finger.

The lady’s brown eyes narrow in amusement, taking in Josie’s unkemptness and Sherlock’s standoffish demeanor.

“John, what have I told you about bringing in strays?”

Her voice was strong and melodic, a strange twang present that Josie had never heard before.

John makes his way over to her, pulling her in by the waist and pecking her lips. “Come now, darling, don’t be so crass. May I introduce you to Josephine Wellington.” he gestures to Josie.

“I wasn’t referring to her, my love, I was referring to that.”

Sherlock turns his nose up, tossing his coat carelessly onto an arm chair and strolling over to Watson's wife. He circles around her like a shark, eyes taking in every inch.

“Witch.”

The woman’s face breaks out into a small smirk.

“Idiot.”

John sighs, giving Josie an apologetic look.

“Anya.”

Anya bursts into a fit of giggles, flashing her pearly whites. “I am only joking, mostly.” She focuses her gaze back on Josie, frowning a bit. “And what’s this? Does Sherlock have a new friend?”

Sherlock mimics her, snatching up a biscuit from a platter laid out on the coffee table. John shakes his head, sighing loudly.

“I’m spoken for, I’m afraid.” Josie says. “Or, I was.”

Anya is no dummy and can deduce that something was amiss. She thought it best to leave it be, this was John and Sherlock’s area and she made it a clear rule from the start that she would never get involved with their crime solving. Whatever was going on, she trusted that John would let her know if they were in any danger.

“Well, I can see that very important conversations need to be had. I’ll go get some tea.”

Anya leaves the room without another word, only sharing a knowing look with John in passing.

The trio retreats to the living room, Watson making himself at home in his favorite chair. Gladstone happily trots over and plops himself down by his owner’s feet.

Anya returns shortly with a tray of tea, setting coasters out among the coffee table. Josie tries not to peek at the loving couple, watching their quiet mannerisms and fleeting touches. Watson regards his wife highly, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips as he looks on while she pours everyone a cup. His fingers drift by her elbows, gently grazing the fabrics of her dress. Josie adverts her eyes, picking at her own hands instead.

John notices that Anya sets the table for three and not four. “You’re not taking tea?”

Anya shakes her head. “I’m afraid not, darling, I’m swamped with orders. Morgan is still upstairs waiting for me to return.”

“If you mind my asking,” Josie starts. “What is it that you do?”

“She makes clown costumes.” Sherlock interjects. Anya ignores his jest.

“I’m a designer.” She stands to her full height, giving a small twirl. “I made this myself.”

“It’s absolutely stunning.” Josie comments. “I’ve never seen designs like this before. You should consider going shopping in France, they have wonderful gowns there.”

“It would be an honor.” Anya genuinely beams. She steals a kiss from Watson before setting off up the stairs.

Watson and Holmes share a look, to which John shakes his head. “Don’t.”

“I wasn’t.”

“But you wanted to.”

“Perhaps.”

Josie picks up her cup of tea, inhaling the aroma prior to taking a sip. “I don’t mean any offense, Mr. Holmes, but I don’t understand why my family hired you for this case.”

Sherlock’s face doesn’t change as Watson hands him a cup of tea that he doesn’t drink, setting it to the side instead.

“Oh, your family didn’t hire me. Your bloody, bludgeoned husband did.”

Josie’s tea cup rattles as she sets it down on the table, hand clutching at her throat. “I don’t understand…why would Theo do that?”

“That’s what we’re hoping to find out.” John answers confidently.

“We?” Sherlock looks to his friend. His only friend. “We ended when you married that sorceress who has likely put something in that tea which causes you to enter some sort of…zombie-like state.”

Sherlock quickly grasps his own tea, tossing the liquid out in a potted plant. Bringing the newly emptied cup to his nostrils, he sniffs it deeply. “I have yet to deduce what it is exactly as I can only smell the awful overpowering of chamomile.”

“You’re giving me a headache.” Was all that Watson replied. He returns his gaze to Joise who has gone stiff.

“I didn’t kill him, you must understand.” She whispers.

“I believe you.” Watson tells her softly. While Sherlock was excellent at reading people like a book, John had a better sense of gathering their emotional state, seeing them for who they really are. He could tell that Josephine was no cold blooded killer.

“The locket you are wearing, currently being concealed in your bosom, your dead husband did not give it to you.” Sherlock states. He gets up out of his chair, hands locked firmly behind his back as he begins to pace the floor.

“I am confused.” Josie says, eyes flickering to John for help. He merely shrugs.

“Theo came from a family of women who preferred gold over silver. The Callahan’s have a huge hand in the goldmine that is overtaking parts of California and any jewelry henceforth have come directly from the source, that explains the wedding ring on your finger but not the locket around your neck. Certain women, women who were bred to navigate the social hierarchy that is marriage-“ the word comes out strained. “Understand that love is stored on your ring finger but women who truly love are under the assumption that it is better held closer to the heart. So I say to you again, Ms. Wellington, the locket is not a gift from Theo.”

Josephine blinks rapidly, removing her idling hand from her neck and using it to smooth down her dress. A nervous tick. “Your assumption is correct, Mr. Holmes.”

“It is not an assumption if it is something I already knew.” The enigmatic detective mutters to no one in particular.

“It was gifted to you by another lover. Were you having an affair?” Sherlock tuts. “No, no. Don’t answer that. Of course you were. The only difference is that this was no other man, it was a woman.”

John grimaces.

Josephine clutches her hands together as if she were in prayer. “Please, you don’t understand-“

“You’re right, I don’t. Not yet, anyhow.”

“Holmes, I think we should give Ms. Wellington some space.” John tries to argue.

“Please, refer to me as Josie.”

John nods his head. Sherlock continues.

“It is distasteful for a woman of your caliber to be romantically involved with another of the same sex but it is nothing a common blackmail couldn’t handle…Theo doesn’t fit the mold. Why doesn’t the bloody bastard fit? Watson!”

John rolls his eyes and sighs, twisting his head over to look at Sherlock. “Why are you yelling, I’m right here!”

“What is the time?”

John checks his watch. “Half past nine, why?”

Sherlock does not answer him as he strolls out of the room and out of the front door, stepping promptly on just the thing he was looking for. He enters the room again, this time with a slight smile on his face.

“What is the matter with you?” John’s voice drips with annoyment at his friends' antics.

“This is why he doesn’t fit.”

Sherlock drops the daily paper down on the coffee table, it connects with a soft thud. Josie gives out a small cry, hastily setting down her teacup before running out of the room. John carefully picks up the paper, surveying the headline.

“WELLINGTON” SOCIALITE WHO MURDERED HUSBAND KNOWN CON ARTIST.”

[truly-morgan]

[What if they met before Mo manor?]

ZhuiXuanyu | Mo Dao Zu Shi 11-07-2021

[#Lansizhui X #moxuanyu (zhuixuanyu?) thank @/misslotor  for the idea  aksjd] (cw: ~6y agegap)

What if Lan Sizhui and Mo Xuanyu had met way before the Mo manor incident?

Sometimes when mxy was still a disciple of the jin sect, they met by accident in lanling.

The lan disciples are over for a friendly competition between them and the llj. The first day of competition is over and the juniors are given permission to visit lanling as long as they are back before eight to Koi Tower.

They are walking around aimlessly, ljy wanting to try some food here and there so they stop every now and then.

When at a corner lsz notice something happening: Some jin disciples are ganging up to beat someone up. He simply cannot stay standing there and do nothing right? Not when the one being beaten up doesn't seem to be able to fight back and look like the shy young man he crossed paths with earlier that day.

So he decides to go help him, chasing away the bullies with ljy on his toes. They seemingly want him to piss off, but he won't let it go and ljy ends up threatening to call for hanguang-jun. This seems enough to finally make them leave.

lsz crouch down to be on the same level as mxy, pushing back some strand of hair to reveal the pretty face who was now bloodied. lsz tries to calm and reassure the young man, surprised when he felt him suddenly hide behind him while hugging him, still crying.

he looks at ljy a bit unsure what to do as mxy thanks him many time, before gently patting the young man's back, telling him it's alright now they are gone. He even suggest helping him go back to Koi Tower to get his injuries checked.

It takes a little moment before the young man accepts, letting lsz lift him up with no problem. "Does your legs hurt? Can you walk?" he ask while helping him stand straight.

"My ankle does hurt a bit" mxy shyly admits.

He manages to convince mxy to get on his back ("But I'm taller!") and carries him without any problems back to koi tower.

lsz stays with him while the healers does their job, trying to befriend mxy, talking about the competition that happens that day.

After that event lsz ends up befriending mxy over the time of the competition, rather enjoying the older cultivator.

And after that, anytime lsz happens to be in llj he tries to visit mxy. So does mxy when he goes to gl.

It doesn't take long before mxy takes a liking to lsz, following him around like a puppy anytime they are together, seeking his gentleness and his affection. Slowly lsz starts to see mxy as a close friend of his too, helping him out when other try to attack him for his out-of-ordinary habits or when they make judgements about him. Even ljy seems to rather enjoy mxy presence with them.

Everything goes rather well, mxy obsession with jgy seems to die down as he instead put more attention on lsz, leaving behind any attempt at getting close to jgy. He still respects greatly his half-brother.

It doesn't stop people from remembering and believing what they want.

three years went by where they grew closer and closer to each other, lsz also slowly grew feelings for mxy, never telling him since he didn't believe mxy felt the same. He was just a good friend after all. Then mxy was kicked out of the llj sect because of "harassment towards jgy".

of course, lsz knew of the rumours, but mxy always told him he only respected jgy as a brother. he managed to meet mxy when he went to mo manor after the incident, rather worried of his lack of news about mxy (and having heard tell tale of how the mo family treated him).

mxy was sure lsz would also believe what others said, that he somehow "went too far with jgy". he never did such thing, he was in love with lsz!!

lsz had to calm to an anxious mxy who wouldn't listen when he was saying he wasn't one to believe rumours said about others (it was probably one of the gusu lan rules actually).

Once mxy was calmed down, they stay where they were, laying under a tree as they watch the clouds in the sky. "I do not love a-yao this way" mxy repeated again, lsz ready to reassure him again, "Because I love a-yuan".

Lsz is taken aback, unsure he really got it right, but they were clearly talking about mxy none existent romantic interest in jgy.

He is just surprised, since he thought mxy simply like him as a close friend and was rather affectionate with him for that reason. But after the surprise passes he is really happy.

He gently grabs mxy hands as he props himself on his elbow, towering a bit over the young man who was getting nervous at the lack of answer. "A-yu loves me?" he asked again, trying to make sure he had really heard it right.

mxy quickly nodded, looking up at lsz from where he was still laying on the grass. "a-yu really loves a-Yuan". mxy finally relaxed when he saw lsz smile growing bigger, looking really happy. "D-does a-yuan loves me too?" he asked, sounding hopeful.

"Yes!" lsz replied quickly, leaning a bit more over mxy, holding his hand a bit stronger.

the look on mxy was worth everything, looking over the moon that lsz also love him. lsz yelped a bit when he was pulled a bit closer to the young man, being held in a tight hug as mxy giggled happily, making him smile as he hug him back.

"Can I kiss A-yuan?" mxy asked. lsz simply nodded, trying to get closer to kiss him back. afterwards, they grew their new relationship in secret, lsz only confiding in ljy.

He wanted to help mxy too, since he could see how badly the mo family would treat him. He eventually had to tell lwj, asking if it was possible for mxy to be taken in as a guest disciple. It took a bit of convincing, but mxy eventually could stand at his side in white robes.

It was to stay temporarily as a guest disciple, then mxy stay a bit longer as a guest of lsz. at some point, their relationship was known from lxc and lqr. both young man were nervous as they were facing lxc and lqr, wondering what would happen.

relief took over them quickly when mxy was granted to stay with him too, as long as he respected the rules. they lived happily after this. mxy doing his best to respect all the rules, while everyone else was getting used to lsz spouse being a bit... out of the ordinary by lan standards.

but lsz accepted all of mxy weird quirks, marking him simply more lovable (it was also fun being the one to make mxy makeup).

I know, this fucks up all of canon, but hey, we can always find another way, am sure nhs would find another poor desperate soul ready to help him.

also, the juniors quartet who forms still, just that this time it is because mxy is called back to the llj sect to get over what (didn't) happen before, lsz follows to make sure he is alright.

mxy deserves all the love and all the friends okay am sure he would get along well with oyz for some reasons

Original

[transpoettryinghisbest]

(Guess who just watched Turnabout Gold Medal and got hopelessly obsessed with a certain ship!! Trigger warnings are in the tags.)

The courtroom empties and I’m the last to leave. I stumble out into the empty hallway. I’m not sure where to go or what to do with myself now. I wonder what happened to Vice Chairman Nivantess. Ex-Vice Chairman. I suppose he’ll be put where all of the criminals go. He always told me not to worry myself with it, as it wasn't anything to do with me. Whatever happens to criminals after they face judgement isn’t my concern.

I’ve known Nivantess my whole life. He was a close business partner with my father and he practically raised me. He taught me everything I know, from small distinctions between law definitions, to the big things - the legal and moral building blocks that this country and I rely on. He’s always taught me right from wrong. How to behave. What to say. What to believe.

It all feels like a lie now.

I don’t know who I am anymore.

“Alright, Chairman?”

I jolt in surprise. There, coffee mug in hand, is Mr Godot. The prosecutor and head of the Judicial Olympics. I instinctively want to tell him everything that’s running through my mind. But all I can manage is:

“Yes.”

“Are you sure? You look like your mind’s been stirred up more than milk in coffee.”

“Oh.”

He glances down, then recoils. “Crowmack, you're bleeding.”

“I am?”

My right hand is indeed dripping blood from a cut on my palm. I hadn’t noticed until now.

“Come with me,” Mr Godot says.

He takes my upper arm and guides me in a particular direction. I follow.

“Where are we going?”

“To the medics. To get you patched up.”

“Okay.”

Once we get there, the medical office is empty, but Mr Godot sits me down anyway. He takes off my glove, which has been slashed and ruined, to reveal a cut running across the top of my palm. It's stinging slightly. Mr Godot finds some bandages and gently starts wrapping it around my hand.

“Is it too tight? Am I hurting you?”

“No.”

I didn't feel anything when it first happened. I think I was in some kind of shock, but the shock is wearing off now. I can feel the sensation of Nivantess’ cane against my chest, pushing me to the ground. I still hear his voice ringing in my ears. Feel his chin against my knuckles.

“You want to talk about what happened?” Mr Godot asks.

“I…”

I do and I don’t. I have so many rushing thoughts that I can’t get anything coherent out.

“It’s alright, take your time.”

“I don’t know,” I finally settle on.

I’m used to having decisions made for me, even little ones. It used to be a relief, less to worry about, but I know now that it was a small part of something more sinister. An attempt to change me. To silence me.

“I’m here if you ever want to talk,” Mr Godot says.

“It’s…hard to talk sometimes.”

“That’s okay.”

He finishes bandaging me and just sits quietly, sipping his coffee. He’s not staring at me, demanding I speak up. He’s not rushing to talk for me or talk over me. He’s very comfortable with silence, it seems. I feel the pressure ease a little.

“I didn't mean to punch him,” I say, eventually. “I didn't think. I just did it.”

“We all do things without thinking about them sometimes.”

“I shouldn't have done it.”

I don't want to be someone who solves problems with violence. Someone who can't control his fists. I don't want to lose sight of the morality and purpose of my actions.

“Do you regret it?” Mr Godot asks.

“I…”

All I remember is the rage. I went through so much fear and confusion that day. When I finally came face to face with my mentor, the man who betrayed me, I tried to speak some sense into him. Tell him that he'd gone too far. But my voice froze up. Like it is now. Like it always does.

He pointed the knife at me.

And something just overcame me.

“I don't know,” I say. “Do you think I should? Regret it?”

“I think it was cool.” He takes a sip. “But it's up to you.”

I think about the moment I saw that blade pointed in my face. I didn't know it at the time, but everything he'd done had lead up to this moment. Vice-Chairman Nivantess always vying for my father's position, always falling second best, but still pulling strings behind closed doors, claiming it was for the greater good. When I was born, he saw me as someone to shape for his own benefit. Someone to use for my authority. Someone he could dispose of at any time.

He meant everything to me. He was like a father and a teacher to me. But I meant nothing to him.

“It's been a crazy couple days for you, huh,” Mr Godot says.

“I don't…know what to do with myself. I…I can't stop…” I rub my forehead, as if trying to calm all of my racing thoughts.

“It's all good. Whatever you want to do now is your choice.”

I don't know if he means long term or just today. I don't know what I mean. I don't know what I want. I don't know how I feel. Am I angry at Nivantess? Am I angry at myself? Do I hate myself?

I think I'm too tired to be angry. Not physically tired, but emotionally. I'm scared. For the state of this country now. And for me. I have no family. I have no one.

And I miss my father.

I wonder what he'd think if he could see me now. He raised a strong leader, not a snivelling child. But he was betrayed by Nivantess too. And he'll never know that. Nivantess called him foolish and incompetent. Just like me. Just like my whole family and the legacy that ends with me. It's a heavy burden and for years it was unknowingly stolen from me. But now it's finally mine, I feel a duty to uphold it.

I just hope I'm strong enough to do so. I still feel so weak. Just a lonely child crying for his father.

“It's alright, Kitten.” Mr Godot gently strokes my upper back.

“K-kitten?”

“Yeah. Cos you're small and cute but you have claws. You can fight back, I've seen it.”

I lean into him and he strokes my hair. For a moment, I forget about my responsibility. I forget about Mr Godot's job and his impressive, elaborate schemes. I forget about everything and just focus on this moment.

This feels nice.

“I just want to make my father proud,” I whimper, eventually.

“I think you already have.”

“I…I have?”

“You know what injustice is and you stand against it. Even before you knew of Nivantess' schemes, when he tried to do something that didn't feel right, you fixed it.” He chuckles. “And you sure know how to make a point when you want to. I raise my mug to you, kid.”

“Thank you. I…I appreciate all of your help.”

He wipes the tears from my eyes very gently. “I couldn't have done it without you.”

He finishes what's in his mug and sets it down beside him.

“So, Chairman Crowmack. What do you say to a little coffee date?”

“Coffee date?”

“Just a chance to…” He lifts my chin up. “…get to know each other a little bit.”

“O-okay.”

He tuts, shaking his head.

“Okay is not an answer, Chairman. If you wish to, you have to give me a yes. And if you don't, a no. And whichever you choose, make sure it's your choice.”

Mr Godot makes me feel nervous. But everything makes me feel nervous. He makes me feel…a different kind of nervous. I don't dislike it. It makes me feel compelled to…be close to him.

“My answer is yes.”

He grins. “Alright. Then. Let's Olympic.”

[bandedbulbussnarfblat]

Damn Your Love, Damn Your Lies chp 5

Here on ao3 or read it below

Daniel opens his eyes and he's in the Villa of Mysteries.  

Huh.  Pompeii.  The night he and Armand had confessed their love and consummated their relationship had been in Pompeii.  Armand must think he's real cute.

It doesn't even surprise him that he remembers.  It feels like a natural continuation of the last dream Armand sent him.  

"'I look young for my age.'  Really, Armand?"

Armand is standing a little ways across from him.  He's wearing the jeans and blue cotton shirt he wore that night in Pompeii.  The outfit had been taken off a victim, someone smaller than Armand.  The jeans were too short, so he had rolled up the cuffs.  They were also skin tight due to being a size too small.  They did amazing things for his ass.  And had that shirt always been so low cut?

"It wasn't a lie, Daniel," Armand says with a smirk.  His eyes travel over Daniel, making no attempt to hide his interest.  "How did you like Rashid?"

Daniel rolls his eyes.  "That bit about never coming untouched was golden."

"Wasn't it?" says Armand, completely self satisfied. The smug bastard.  "How was I?"

"You asking for a performance review?"  The nerve of this guy.

Armand studies him closely.  "I'm asking how it compares to me?"

Daniel gets it.  He laughs and says "You're jealous of yourself.  That's insane, even for you."

"I'm not jealous; I'm only curious."

"Bullshit," Daniel calls.  "Besides, you were there.  You saw how much I liked it."

Armand doesn't say anything, he just looks at the frescoes.  Daniel waits.  He knows Armand's tricks well enough; he's hoping Daniel will try to fill the silence and slip up and reveal something he can use against him.  After a long moment, Armand speaks, 

"It wasn't how I would have liked our first time in so long to go." 

Right.  Daniel understands; Armand probably planned this out to a tee.  Figured out everything.  Except how he would feel about it.  

Armand crosses his arms over his chest and looks back over to him. His thumb is doing that little self soothing thing it does when he's anxious.  Is Daniel making him nervous?

"I'd have preferred to be myself."

It comes out before Daniel can stop it, "I'd have preferred that too."

Armand's eyes widen just a fraction, then he's pressed along Daniel's front and is cupping his face to pull him into a kiss.  It all happens so fast that Daniel can hardly think to resist.  His brain is still trying to process what's going on when Armand's mouth presses against his.  

He thought kissing Rashid was explosive, but it's a pale shadow of this.  This is a supernova.  This is everything.  

Daniel can't help but wind a hand through Armand's hair and crush him closer.  It's been so long.  Armand's tongue sweeps into his mouth and Daniel groans into the kiss.  His mouth is thoroughly plundered and his jaw is sore by the time he pulls back.  

He rests his forehead against Armand's and takes a deep breath.  Then he puts his hands on Armand's shoulders and pushes him back.  "That's all you get.  We're over."

"You still want me."

Daniel shrugs.  "I still want heroin, sometimes.  I got clean from it.  I can get clean from you."

"Don't debase what we had.  Don't reduce it to a mere addiction."

Daniel smiles wryly.  "Wasn't it?" 

Armand glares at him and suddenly Daniel is jolting up in bed, sick to his stomach.  Fuck.  Must have been a nightmare.  He can't remember.  

Rashid is propped up on an elbow next to him, wide awake and watching him sleep.  "Bad dreams?" he drawls.  

"Don't remember," Daniel says, looking down at him.  It should be creepy that the kid was watching him sleep, instead he thinks it's kind of cute.  He reaches down and strokes a thumb along Rashid's cheekbone.  "Have I told you how fucking pretty you are?"

"Mm, no.  An oversight, truly."

"Let me make it up to you," Daniel says and smoothly pulls Rashid up to straddle his face.  He kisses up the inside of one thigh and down the other.  "Let me eat you out."

"I don't know if you've earned that privilege, Mr. Molloy."

Daniel nips gently at the skin of one inner thigh. 

"Harder," Rashid demands.

Daniel bites down enough to leave marks, then soothes over it with his tongue.  Rashid inhales sharply.  Daniel kisses the burgeoning bruise.  "Come on.  I promise you'll feel like I earned it."

Rashid takes a shaky breath. 

Daniel waits.  He hopes the little brat says yes.  He’ll respect it if he says no, of course, but he really fucking hopes he doesn’t say no.  

There’s a pause, then finally, 

 "Alright, Daniel.”

[taki118]

SuyaLight Master Post Part 18

I really like these two there’s not a lot of content for the fandom as a whole soooo here’s my submission as I get every moment of these two royals who literally share a braincell (and I love them for it) First up this is just on the manga if you are anime only its going to have stuff you havent seen, yes even with what the anime covers (so read it) and there will be spoilers so beware. If you prefer Demon Monk/Cleric/Leo (which I don’t really get) I am sorry this isnt for you. Lets go! Part 1 is here Part 2 is here Part 3 is here Part 4 is here Part 5 is here Part 6 is here Part 7 is here Part 8 is here Part 8.5 is here Part 9 is here Part 10 is here Part 11 is here Part 12 is here Part 13 is here Part 14 is here Part 15 is here Part 16 is here Part 17 is here

So Suya wants to make bedding for Twilights Grandpa and get the help of her would be saviors

Even when Suya doesn't know his relation to Twilight she seems how similar the two are

I like how Twilight calls Suya out then apologizes for her.

Thats an interesting way to put it grandpa, anyway they get her soul back

So Suya sprouted cat ears after being in the underworld but Twilight isn't worried and outright says it would look cute

But he soon sees the concern

So its take two of Sherlock Suya and I think its cute that she won't switch Twilights established position in this game

So everyone accidentally gets sent to Twilights special vacation island and get leave. Soon he's the only one not there and gets jealous like a kid.

So Suya helps restore the powers of Hades, Zeus and Poseidon by turning them into an idol group and Twilight is appreciative of her efforts however

It worked too well and I gotta assume thats Twilight yelling

Its some genderswap insanity and here's face blind Suya once more

Suya tries to figure out why Twilight is so concerned and Twilight says its cause it leaves a bad impression for the army but Suya says they were always adorable and thats just so sweet

Suya also points out Twilight isn't all that intimidating anyway

It is rather funny that Suyas appearance doesn't change much and as a said note she does have some traditionally masculine traits

But Twilight realizes that a spell this strong just appearing is something to be concerned about and Suya is actually a little shocked and maybe impressed by his decisiveness here.

But that kinda goes away quick as he tries to take a play out of Suyas book and fails.

Suya tries to warn him he went too far but doesn't listen and gets embarrassed.

He gets more and more depressed as people don't recognize him, Suya tres to reassure him which is very sweet.

Twilight really has a complex about this as it adds to his feelings that he's not a good Demon King, again Suya tries to help him but well shes not the best at that

Soon enough the story gets back on track with the help Suyas lingering spiritual connection.

The culprit is revealed and they get their OG bodies back. It revealed to be the missing Guardian member, he had done a spell that cause him to be invisible and make everyone forget him.

He then explains he'd been trying for sometime to get everyones attention in this state but every attempt was over shadowed by SUyas nonsense.I just love the look Twilight gives her.

As everyone has turned back a meeting is happening and Twilight is torn on what to do but Suya says she will handle the guardian.

But Twilight kinda knew SUya was up to something as she exploited the guardians good will.

I really wanna post more cause we get some good Suyalight content soon but tumblrs 30 photos rule means I gotta stop here.

[goodboyriddler]

I have a request: Klitz x Reader, where the reader is secretly super duper busty, but Klitz had no idea of this (cause reader's clothes are so good at hiding them) until one day, reader takes her shirt off in front of him on a hot summer day, and he sees her huge boobies for the first time 😏 she even lets him touch them, if he wants

Hot summer means a day in the pool. Reader is really excited to show her bff Klitz her new swimsuit! Why does he look like he's panicking?

"Hey Klitz?" You call out worried to where he's been half submerged in the corner of the pool. "You okay?"

Both of you have sneaked to a nearby pool hoping to get some refreshing by the heat wave. Just a splash between friends, who he definitely hadn't had a crush since forever.

And Klitz was panicking.

Very bad.

You're used to wear comfortable clothes, which often happened to be loose shirts and sweatshirts. You took out your shirt, stretching your arms above your head and it revealed the too-small swimsuit underneath.

And they are big. Very big. And they bounce everytime you move. And Klitz should probably have something more intelligent to say from someone who got accepted early to Yale but really, he's trying to survive over here.

Your swimsuit was far too small in your chest, stretching almost painfully so and your tits still were to the point of spilling out. And Klitz tried to swim it off. Be cool and totally not a creep about this because sure, they looked so big and squishy and his hand itched to touch. He's a good friend. But you had splashed water into his face playfully while wrapping your hands into his neck and pressed your chest against him-

You sit in the edge of the pool, your feet lazily kicking the water while your head is thrown back, taking the warmness of the sun. He can see every inch of your body, droplets slowly dripping down. And how your swimsuit presses harder into you caused by the water. Almost can see your hard nipples through the wet fabric. What kind of shit swimsuit you were wearing? And he tries to cover his hard on by crossing his legs.

"I'm fine!" Klitz calls out, getting half of his face out of the water in what it was a failed attempt to get his blush down. "Thanks!"

You smile, before getting up and walking towards him. No, what are you doing, get away from him. He sees you from below, how your tits and hips move, and holy shit. He's going to die so early at this age.

"Okay then, let me help you reapply your sunscreen."

"W-why?"

"Because you get so easily sunburned dum dum, remember last time?" You say while you urge him to the edge of the pool and sit so he faces you. He really was bad, often forgetting some parts and getting red in his pale skin. "And your face has already been red since we started swimming."

Your hands are cold with the sunscreen and yeah, maybe you're right because his skin definitely feels like its burning. Melting. Third degree burn kind. Your pretty hands roam through his freckled skin and Klitz tries to close his legs, cock hard, because you're leaning towards him and bending over. Your hands touch and slide skin while humming. All over, your nails scratching sometimes and he shivers. And he knows if he looks down he'll have a perfect view of your cleavage.

"Oh, you look so different without your glasses." Your hands had started to apply some in his face, and you caress his high cheekbones. It makes his eyes bigger as he looks up at you. "You look very pretty."

"T-thanks." Your hands move his long hair out of the way so you can spread some in his neck.

He feels himself blush. Looking down- and back up quickly when he forgets. He shifts again, nervous as he tries to control his breathing.

"Oh! Do you liked my new swimsuit by the way?" You see him look and stop so you can give him a playful pose. "Wanted an excuse to wear it."

Klitz is surely paying for something, and he doesn't know what he has done to deserve this taunting.

"Um- Uh yeah." It's the best commentary he can give in his current panic. "Yeah, it's very b-very nice."

His eyes go to your chest and he bites his tongue. He wonders how they would look in his palms as he grabs them and kneads them. Full and heavy and maybe he could beg you to touch them. Suck on them or putting his face in them. Suffocating between them. His fingers twitch and he really needs to get out before he embarrasses himself finishing in his swimsuit.

You grab his shoulders. He tenses, before your smile drops into something more of a smirk.

"You like my tits too?" You say bluntly and he starts to stutter. He flusters under your piercing gaze, and your hold in him prevents him from escaping. "That why you've been staring at them all this time?"

"I- I didn't mean-"

"You want to touch them?" Your hand starting to slide up his inner thigh where the outline of his hard cock rests against his thigh. "You just need to ask."

And Klitz let's a small whine, desperately nodding while his mouth waters.

"Y-yes, please."

[ongaku-ato-kakikomi]

Hey, I've been watching Glee again (because let's be honest, it addicting) and I was wondering if you could make a fic about y/n comforting Finn after he breaks up witu Rachel (something in like season 1 or so). Like something really fluffy and it's somehow revealed that they have feelings for each other. 🌼

“Why does this keep happening, (Y/N)?” Finn can barely look at you through his teary eyes, his hands holding onto his head as he feels like it’s about to explode. “Every time I get a girlfriend, she cheats on me and breaks my heart... with the same guy!” He lowers his head to look at the table, already imagining a look of judgement on your face. “How the hell can this thing happen twice? Is it me? Am I the problem here?”

“Hey, no.” Your hand reaches out to his shoulder, gently shaking it in an attempt to comfort him. “Nothing about this is your fault, Finn. Even if you were in a fight, Rachel had no excuse for doing this behind your back. And don’t get me started on what I think of Quinn...”

He gives out a long sigh, a sad chuckle escaping his lips when he remembers the long hateful monologues you had about his ex when he told you about her cheating. You warned him she was bad news when they started going out in the first place, but he didn’t listen to you back then. He should have, because a year or so later you were there, helping him pick up the pieces of his heart... just like you are now.

He looks back at you, his fingers grasping onto the locks of his hair as he takes in the soft smile you’re giving him. Despite the hurt and betrayal Rachel has made him feel for the past few days, he can’t help but let the butterflies fly around freely inside his stomach when he looks at you. They’ve been here a while, sometimes bringing along tingling fingers and a skipped beat. He didn’t get why at first, but when he did, gates of guilt opened wide and he distanced himself from you... for Rachel’s sake.

But now that she cheated? Well, it almost made him wish he wouldn’t have wasted all this time on her...

His eyes soften as he looks at you, an apologetic smile on his lips. “I’m sorry you have to keep dealing with this stuff...”

“What are you sorry for? You’re my best friend.” The word choice makes his heart squeeze with disappointment, the chuckle escaping your throat making him feel desperate. “I’ve known you since kindergarden, Finn. You’re stuck with me at this point.”

“Well... good.” He slowly grasp onto your hand that was on his shoulder, his fingers intertwining with yours after a moment. “Cause I don’t want you to go... ever.”

Your smile slightly stretches out at his words, your head shaking a few moments later. “Can I confess something?”

Finn quirks an eyebrow at you, his smile still present on his face. “Go ahead.”

“You and Rachel?” You continue to shake your head, your nose scrunching a little. “Didn’t really like it.”

“Really?” He chuckles, blinking a few times. “Why? Did she give you a similar vibe to Quinn?”

“Not at all; she seemed great for you even.” You shrug, an unsure look taking over your face. “I don’t know... I just... didn’t like the thought of you together, that’s all.”

“Hm.” He squints his eyes at you, his smile widening for a moment. “I get the feeling you know why but don’t wanna tell me.”

“... you might know me a little too well.” Your smile makes your eyes squint, the hesitation still present on your face as you take a look at your hands holding. “I’m just... scared of telling you.”

“You don’t have to.” He squeezes your hand once more, his head tilting at you with wonder. “Come on. You can tell me anything.”

“... I... well... I kind of like you.” You give out a shrug just as you spoke out those words, not quite able to look into your eyes. “More than a friend, I mean... so that’s mostly why.”

He stares intently at your nervous expression, a feeling of pure excitement spreading from his chest into his mind. “You’re kidding.”

“Do I sound like I am?” You can’t help but quirk an eyebrow at his words, a slight scoff coming out of your mouth before you shake your head. “Look, I’m not expecting anything from you. I’m perfectly fine with us staying friends-”

“No.” He interrupts your words just as his face approaches yours, his words coming out in a desperate words. “No, I like you too.”

“What?” You blink in surprise, not quite registering him coming closer and closer. “You do?-”

His free hand declicately touches your right cheek, guiding your face to his so he can gently press his lips against yours. You flutter your eyes as you melt into his touch, a burst of emotions exploding inside your chest as a result of this moment. He parts away a few seconds later, his face staying only inches away from yours as he stares into your eyes.

“... so what now?” You nervously chuckle, the mere sound making his smile genuinely. “Are we like... dating? Or something?”

“Definitely something, for sure.” His words make you laugh, the boy bring your hand he was holding high so he can kiss the back of your palm. “Wanna get out of here?”

Your lips stretch out onto your cheeks. “I kind of like being here with you.” 

His smile softens as he continues to stare at you, pure happiness beaming off of his entire being. This day sure ended on a different note than he was expecting. 

[clumsyexpression]

❛ it’s my fault, isn’t it? ❜

Have been on a marine kick lately and i dunno i really love these guys

Aokiji ✭ X Drake Fluff? x Reader

"It’s my fault, isn’t it?"

A lazy eye peered from underneath the padded sleeping mask as you slinked behind the closing door to the office with a sigh. There was no way anyone could sleep through a verbal eruption by Akainu, and those in particular tended to rouse the sleeping Aokiji whenever it occured. Apparently the sound of Akainu’s voice would trickle in and foul his dreams.

“No sir,  I should have been a little more punctual with my deliveries.”

It’s one thing to get chewed out by a superior officer, but a tad bit different when you receive the brunt end of the anger of a superior officer, in front of other superior officers, and then have said yelling superior officer be Akainu. Kizaru always appeared to be unbothered and Fleet Admiral Sengoku wasn’t fazed either whenever it happened, but still.

It’s not fun being screamed at.

You exhaled as the laxness that permeated the room was somewhat contagious. All of the tension that may have followed you from Akainu’s presence melted as soon as you found yourself with Aokiji. He had that effect on you, you found, and was very glad that you didn’t have to report to any of the other admirals often – namely Akainu.

“Hmm, I think you’re doing a fine job. Enough with all that serious stuff,” Aokiji yawned as he finally sat up for what may have been the first time today. A peek at the clock revealed that it was already past 16:00 hours.

Even though it wasn’t entirely your fault, a rush of anxiety bombarded once more as you realized that the end-day reports needed to be turned in and based on the lack of files (not) sitting on the desk, you didn’t even have an hour to amass what you needed for Akainu’s impending diatribe.

Why bother?

“Well, if I’m late, it looks bad on you, and if things aren’t done in a timely manner, not only does the department suffer but it’s a bad look on the marines as a whole and even though-”

Your running thoughts were cut short as a casual kiss had sealed your verbal runoff. You couldn’t quite tell if it was just you and the flash of heat that flushed your body or if it was because he always ran a little more on the cooler side, but just as before, the day’s worries and concerns melted away – draining away the longer he held your lips with his.

Blasé as ever, Aokiji pulled away with a content hum and continued on with the next task for the evening’s itinerary.

“My my, that’s enough work for the day - time for an evening stroll,” Aokiji declared as he grabbed the keys to lock up his office for the day – seemingly oblivious to the frazzled mess of a you he’s leaving behind in the middle of the room.

But as you noted before, the nonchalance that exuded from this man was exceptional – was he going to pretend that didn’t just happen?

“W-wha, s-sooo…” you attempt to scrap together a sentence while poorly suppressing how flustered you felt. “Y-you consider that work? That was on the schedule?”

“Not at all. What is that saying, how’s it go – if you love what you do, it’s not considered work?” Aokiji attempted to recall however it went, but gave up with a shrug and held the door open for you to pass first.

“Something like that.”

a/n: sorry if this sounds familiar, im working on different scenarios but dang it this is the best way I can imagine it orz

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆

"It’s my fault, isn’t it?"

Drake muttered under his breath, allowing only you to hear, but all eyes and attention were on the both of you as everyone awaited to see what he was going to do.

“And there’s 99% chance that you will not follow through,” Basil affirmed with a flip of a card, poorly suppressing the smirk that crept across his face from the lack of action.

Sometimes the job called for silly shenanigans, and this was one of those times.

Between Basil’s ridiculous predictions and an already suspicious Who’s-Who, he had no other choice but to give in for the sake of his mission.

That always comes first – his mission - but between the two of you and the closer you seem to get, it was becoming harder and harder to tell what the main focus was.

He didn’t mean for you to be roped into this.

Not at your expense.

Playing your role of the barkeep that the Tobi Roppo is known to frequent, you could only idly stand by and fulfill their requests. Not that you minded this one. This one was actually interesting. The building excitement wasn’t just an act, either. You really wanted to see where this would go.

“This is childish. I don’t have to time for this.” Drake crossed his arms and turned to leave - agitated by the immaturity of the game and the group of participants. And also to hide the blooming rosiness that started to inch its way up his neck and bloom onto his face.

He hated going out drinking or partying with the Tobbi Roppo. They were always boisterous and belligerent and such a hassle to blend in with. But -  as per the mission briefing - it was his job to stay in line and under the radar, which meant if he had to play the not-blow-my-cover-as-a-marine-spin-the-bottle with the gang, he would do it.

“Sounds like something a spy would say, If I ever heard one.” Who’s-Who jeered, already banking on Basil’s 99% chance of him not going through with it.

“It’s okay, I don’t mind. Because its you.” You admitted through a barely audible whisper, earning a deepening flush from the covert marine as his eyes could no longer meet yours, for whatever reason.

“Hmmph. Your days are marked. ‘Definitely no way that you’re gonna-”

The motion of his hands seemed to smudge time to a mere trickle as gloved hands became a vice grip to your face – eyes shut, lips locked, and securing the bet that was against him. Something about the kiss felt like it weighed more onto something else than the bet – between how deep and genuine it felt as opposed to a quick peck that was originally warranted. Sharing the heat from his body thanks to the kissing exchange, you fanned your face as an attempt to cool off while Drake delivered a derisive glare towards his cohorts – as if it didn’t take all of his being to not faint right then and there as per their taunting.

“Whoa shit, didn’t think he would do it..”

“….whatever.”

Losing interest in the lost bet, Who’s-Who turned to leave while Basil lingered by with cards in hand, seemingly interested in keeping the game going.

Basil smirked as he flipped a card down and sent another leering dare as his jeer met Drake.

“99% chance you won’t do it again.”

Unfortunately, that held true as you held the shell of a man in your arms, his soul finishing its escape from his body at the mere thought of kissing you again.