#I applaud thee good man I applaud thee

[400luxxxxxxx]

toxic doomed old man yaoi

shakespeare if he was woke

Iago: God forsake that doltish, doltish man! That he believeth each word to drop from mine own lips as though ‘twere holy writ, blindeth himself in his conceit... God save us all if that moor hadst remain’d powerful as he once was. Was! ‘Tis ever so sweet to speak of him in the past. My hatred for the man doth outlast his brief, fool’s life. Ay, good riddance I say, good riddance. It gives me somewhat to dwell upon, rather than mine own blood seepeth o’er my clothes – and yet, whilst I am so bruised and beaten, the thought dost creep o’er my mind, that I am glad Othello saw me not in such estate... good riddance, I say! And good riddance to his whore of a wife, loyal or nay! I stand triumphant, as I ever was, whilst they both do rot in the ground, many a pace betwixt them. Never have I known a fate more satisfying. If he were to cast me aside, then let him have naught by his side. Yet the question I can but ask myself still, is why doth mine heart ache so? The moor is dead by none but his own doing. Blind was he to mine own worth, casting me off like so. Say not mine hand was unforced. So why doth I ache so?

Were he alive, would he rue it? The fool, to end his own life... could he not be a man? Othello, thou art a fool if thou hear’st me now! By what reason or wit didst thou wed that woman? Did she know thee better than I? Did she know thee more deeply? Doth her devotion put mine years of loyalty to shame? I-

Ay, see me now! Pacing and railing against the walls of this accurs’d cell like a craz’d wretch. Nay, Othello, thou art not here. Good riddance to thee. Thou art dead, I am alive; thus I am the victor.

Yet it doth feel less noble than I had dreamt. There is no crowd to applaud me within these walls. In mine heart there smoulders a fire, yet beneath it lies an emptiness naught can fill. My hunger should have been sated the moment that blade pierc’d his belly, yet instead tis growing more keen as each day doth pass. And without him. Yet pass they do.

Nay, good riddance, The days pass as e’er they did, yet the man who wronged me doth not see their passage – that alone is reason for celebration. Were I free this moment, mayhap I’d travel to the nearest tavern and there proclaim my triumph to all ‘til my voice grew hoarse.

Yet, even as I say it, I dread that the instant I entered, the name “Othello” would lie presuppos’d on my tongue. Oh, heavens, whom do I seek to deceive? There is none but myself here. His name, which stirr’d naught but anger in my heart, used to do the opposite. Speak on, I shall not, for if there aught left to grip save mine hand upon mine wind, it is my dignity. These walls, they crack and whisper – I should know, for I have stood long upon the other side of them. For Othello’s sake, no less.

The fate he met, ‘twas by his own hand wrought. Cassio, his choice? That lecherous, fawning knave? Were I in Othello’s stead, I’d have cast off this mortal coil the moment such a decision was made. And yet, as he hearken’d to mine own supposed crimes, ere he did end his life in such selfish haste, I find myself longing that his reddened face and rueful eye had been set alight for another cause. Mayhaps a more selfish one. That red, perchance warm’d by mine lips upon his.

God, save me! Let some gaoler enter this cell and thrash me senseless for thinking thus, and let mine head be dash’d upon the cold stone floor for that I would not repent.

--

translated version for stupid harlots

Iago:

God forsake that stupid, stupid man! Believing every word to come out my mouth like it is the scripture itself, blinding himself with his own ego... god save us all if he was to remain as powerful as he was. Was – it’s ever so satisfying to speak of him in past tense now. My hate  for the man lives longer than he ever did. Good riddance, I say, good riddance. It gives me something to occupy myself with, rather than the way my own blood drips onto my clothes – while I’m beaten, the thought can’t help but enter my mind that I’m glad Othello never saw me like this... good riddance! And good riddance to his whore of a wife, faithful or not! I remain triumphant as always while they both rot in the ground, metres apart forever. I’ve never heard of a more satisfying fate. If he was to choose to not have me by his side, then he will have no one. The question, however, that I can’t help but ask myself, is why do I still ache? That idiot is dead because of no one’s fault but his own. He failed to recognise my worthiness, pushed me to the side like some sort of wingman, you cannot say my hand was not forced. So why do I ache like so?

If he was alive still, would he regret it? The fool, ending his own life like that... be a man! Othello, you moron, if you by any chance of the heavens can hear me now, you are a fool! Why in any sense of sanity you still held onto would you marry that woman? Did she know you better than I? Did she understand you more deeply than I? Did she stay by your side for god knows how long that put my years of loyalty to shame? I-

Look at me now. Pacing and yelling to the walls of this damned grey cell like some sort of deluded psychotic. No, Othello, you are not here. Good riddance. You are dead and I am alive, and  therefore I am the victor.

It feels less admirable than I had imagined it to feel.

There is no applause in this cell for me. There is a fire burning in my heart but just below it, my stomach is empty as it’ll ever be. My appetite should’ve been quenched the second that knife entered his belly but for some reason it’s getting worse as the days pass. Without him, they pass.

No, good riddance. The days pass as they always did and this time a man who has wronged me is not here to see it – that, in my books, is a cause for celebration. Why, if I was freed right now maybe I’d even go for a trip to the nearest tavern, and brag about my winnings to everyone I can see until my throat is raw.

However, and I truly may hate myself for this, I fear the second I storm in there and open my mouth to speak, the name “Othello” would already be presumed to be on my tongue. Oh, who am I to fool. There is no one here but me. Where his name, when spoken to me, now provokes ire and anger, it did so used to do the opposite. Speak on, I will not, for if there is one thing that I wish to hold on to other than my hand to my bleeding wound it is my dignity. These cracking cell walls, they speak. I should know; I’ve been on the other side of them for the majority of my time here. For Othello’s sake, nonetheless.

The fate he had he brought it on himself. Cassio was his choice? That good for nothing womanizer? If I were Othello I’d have killed myself the second that god-awful decision was made.

And yet, as he was told of my crimes, before he did end his own life so selfishly, I can’t help but wish the red in his face and the regret in his eyes could’ve been for a different reason. The flush of his face, maybe accompanied with my lips on his.

God, spare me! Let someone back into my cell to beat my wounds raw for thinking such a thing, and let my skull be cracked open on the cold, concrete floor for not wanting to take it back.

[the-offside-rule]

Daniel Ricciardo (Alpha Tauri) - What Mama Don't Know, Won't Hurt Her

Requested: on wattpad

Prompt: Y/n and Daniel's daughter recalls her childhood racing

Warnings: not much tbh

The intro music to the show began and the crowd applauded at the interviewer prepared to welcome the viewers back after the break. "Hello and welcome back to thee show. Before we went on commercial break, we were talking to the racing wonder Keila Ricciardo who is still with us about her diet and other things like that but now I think we're gonna get into your career so Keila, how did you start off racing. Was it karting or was it something else?"

"Well I don't remember exactly but from what dad told me, the hunger for speed has always been there...

"Mum and Dad sat watching my brother Jamie driving his kart around track. He'd been karting a good two years and was winning things left right and centre. It scared mum for sure but she didn't mind since he was always careful and knew when to stop pushing, unlike a certain driver that she found herself married to. While mum was entirely focused on myy brother racing, Dad was focused on his other child pretending to steer and making some noises to almost envision herself in a kart. Dad remembers smiling like a child on Chrristmas and brought it to Mum's attention." Keila smiles as she remembers the story fondly.

"What did your mom think? I mean she must have been like 'no, we already have two drivers we aren't having a third.' "

"Well pretty much yeah. Dad like, pulled her aside and pointed at me saying like "look at her go. She's almost nailed the track entirely." Dad said mum looked down and smiled softly at me. "I think we should get her a kart." Dad whispered to her and no joke, almost immediately, Mum declined his offer. "Dan, we aren't getting her a kart." Dad scoffed and was like, "And why not?" Mum went completely ballistic at this point and we were getting people just staring at us she was yelling like, "Dan! He's barely two! I don't want her crashing!" she said. Dad had to admit, it was a pretty convincing argument but he so desperately wanted his daughter to race, just look at her!"

"Yeah she's adorable and knows how to drive a car, what's not to love?" the interviewer joked. "Yeah well dad didn't want me to just let go of whatever dream she had for racing so he plotted in secret to get ms a kart, not a motor one, a pedal one for now until I got used to everything."

"And did you know you were getting a kart?" Keila shook her head. "No, absolutely not! I think if I had known, I would have been running into school telling everyone so I think he did well to not tell me but he remembers the day that my kart came like it was yesterday. So, Mum left for work like she usually did and Dad was left at home with us. Dad kept looking out tthee window and at the time, I didn't know what was going on, I just weren't with it. I remember that he jumped up excitedly when he saw a truck come and dropped off this huge box. He called me into the kitchen and opened the box to reveal this gorgeous black and green kart and I apparently nearly squealed the house down. That was all great but there're was a catch. Just as I got onto it and began pedalling, Dad dragged me back and whispered into my ear 'Don't tell your mother!' "

"What Momma won't know won't hurt her." The audience laughed at the story and clapped too. "Right! So we didn't tell her and we hid the kart in the shed because she never went there but then by the time I was four, I wanted a motor kart like Jamie and word might have slipped that I had a kart and mum like, flipped. She was yelling, dad was just sitting back too scared to say anything-"

"So you're telling me that Daniel Ricciardo, the man who used to drive formula one cars at 300kph was scared of your mum?" The interviewer asked through furrowed brows. Keila's eyes opened wide and looked almost afraid. "Mate, she's scary when she's angry, I wouldn't blame him. Yeah but mum eventually gave in gave me Jamie's old kart and I was quite happy with it until I started competing at a higher level."

"Yeah so you're in formula two yes?" he asked looking at one of his cards. "Yes, but I'm going to Formula One next year with Williams. Jamie is in the McLaren so hopefully we can get some good battles." Keila laughed. "We all want some sibling drama but would that not cause fights at the table?" he joked. "It's already did! When we were karting together wee kept fighting. For example I'd finish higher than Jamie and I'd tease him about it and then a brawl would start at the table. Mum would have us washing dishes afterwards as a punishment of sorts."

"Your mum seems scary but she must have whipped you two into shape." Keila chuckled and nodded. "Yeah, she definitely did. People say I have the fun, outgoing side of my dad but the discipline of my mum so its a good mix there." The interviewer saw his queue for the interview to end so he quickly changed it up a bit. "Well wee would love to listen to more stories about Momma Ricciardo but we have just about run out of time but it was lovely having you on the show. Ladies and Gentleman, Keila Ricciardo!"

Keila stood up and wavered before walking off the stage to get back home to her parents that she missed so dearly and that interview only made her miss them more. As she changed clothes, she couldn't help but smile at the memories she had just described, each one better than the last. She was one step closer to her dream of being a formula one driver and it was all thanks to her family; Jamie, Daniel and Y/n Ricciardo.

[maddieautobot273]

Silk & Cologne (55)

A Miguel O'Hara x OC Fanfic - link to AO3 (X)

Chapter 55: Dusk - previous chapter (X)

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Female OC (Spidersona)

Words: 3.4K+ words

Warnings: PG-13 for Slight angst (nothing too serious), very brief mention of teasing about a kink (it's not an actual thing here)

Summary: It's a brand new day in Earth-1218 as Lisa and Miguel navigate where to go from here.

////////

Part II 

“If she finds out you’re keeping this from her, what she really is, it could mean the end of this beautiful world you both created in your hearts.” - Madame Web in the not so distant future

///////////

“Are you sure it was her ?” Miguel had asked me, his hands engulfing my shoulders, anchoring me to him as those piercing brown eyes of his as we stood in the darkness of his lab. “You’re absolutely sure that’s who you saw?”

“I’m serious, Miguel.” My gaze didn’t falter as I met his gaze, as his hands snaked up from my shoulders, slowly up to my cheeks. “It was Madame Web who unlocked my powers. What does this mean? Has she been watching me? Us ? This whole time? Why hasn’t she been helping you with all this anomaly stuff?”

“I don’t know, mi corazon , but promise me, if she ever contacts you again, you can tell me, okay?” Miguel pleaded with me softly as his thumbs brushed over the skin of my cheeks. “I just want to make sure you’re okay.” - sweetheart

I nodded gently, taking a breath to try and ease my worries. “I promise.”

Miguel’s face softened as he leaned forward, “Come ‘ere,” He wrapped his arms around me, embracing me close to his chest as I sucked in his radiating warmth. ”We'll figure this out together. I promise.”

Looking back on it now, I think that was when everything started to crumble. Starting out as a tiny crack barely noticeable. Until overtime, it wasn’t.

///////////

“Come on, let’s go!” 

It was the middle of the night. Men dressed in dark clothing worked quickly as one by one they each grabbed and stored sneakers in the back of a large van. It was the delivery service backlot of the Nike store in Upstate. A new style of sneakers had just been released the other day, and they were all the rage. 

Everyone wanted one, and I suppose these guys took it way too literally. 

“Just a couple more and then we’re out of here!” 

They nearly stacked the back of the van to the brim with nothing but sneaker boxes. If someone didn’t stop them, they’d surely make a speedy getaway, especially since they knocked out the patrolling security guard. They couldn’t get away with this. 

There was a ‘FWIP!’ in the air as a blob of web fluid shot out from above, sticking to the robber closest to the van’s face. 

“Come little children, I’ll take thee away,”

The webbing turned to gold as the hue glowed bright. The man collapsed to his knees before falling over and dropping the shoe box he was holding. Snoring quickly followed. 

“Johnny?” One of the other robbers whirled around to see his friend fall. 

But before he could get to him, another sling of webbing caught on his face now, displaying the same glowing effect and he too was quick to fall to the ground into slumber. 

“Into a land of enchantment!” 

One by one, the robbers fell. All the while dressed in a refurbished black and pink spider suit, I descended down from the street lamp slowly, dangling from a web. 

“Come little children, the times come to play.

Here in my garden of magic~” 

All the robbers lay asleep as I touched down on the ground, making sure to land on my good foot and not my, just on the cusp of recovering, sprained ankle. I looked around to assess the damage. No one was injured and I called it a blessing when I discovered that the robbers had disabled the security system. 

Nobody would have witnessed the robbery, but that almost meant that nobody would witness Spider-Muse subduing them either. 

“Nice one, Lisa!” Lyla’s holographic form appeared beside me, applauding me as confetti blew up around her. “A new personal best!” 

“Thanks, Lyla.” I smiled softly at the AI under my mask. 

“You’ve been getting a lot better at channeling your voice with your webbing.” She complimented as she fluttered about, admiring my handiwork as I carefully sat up the robbers into a little circle. 

It’s been two weeks since I helped save my dimension from total collapse by Harry Osborne. It’s been two weeks since I sprained my ankle, and more importantly, it’s been two weeks since Madame Web gave me her blessing, allowing me to use my powers in my dimension safely. Madame Web. . . 

My mind was still reeling from that entire counter. Was she observing my dimension through her powers like she was with those other dimensions I saw? Was she watching me right now to make sure I upheld my promise?

With great power comes great responsibility , or as Miguel likes to say With great powers comes great guilt . 

Now I’m craving fortune cookies. 

During that time whenever I wasn’t home, I’d be at Spider-Society HQ in Miguel’s dimension, training and practicing more with my powers. Miguel supported me every step of the way, and did his best to not be a constant shadow, but he was always there when I really needed him most. He and the others helped me practice my web slinging and how to properly land with an injury, and Miguel made sure I kept up on my workout routine. 

Since then, my enchantment ability has enhanced, allowing me to enchant my target without needing a connecting web from me to their skin. I could also do it without needing to touch my webbing, but only in short bursts and doesn’t last as long. So long as I’m close by and the webbing could detect the vibration of my voice, the enchantment would activate. Peter B. took plenty of notes for me in my notebook too. 

Since then, I’ve secretly been using my powers to protect my new home, New York City. Tonight’s case was a shoe robbery. I wish I didn’t have to hide it, but perhaps it was for the best. 

Miguel and I had talked about it briefly after the battle the following day. If he hadn’t intervened with Project: Reset, the government would have eventually hunted me down, interrogated me, and most likely would try to experiment and dissect me. It was brought up briefly, but we didn’t need to go into any further detail if they got their hands on my gizmo. 

As much as I agreed I didn’t want it to end up going that route, I wished I could have preserved my friends memories. They knew of my secret superhero identity for all but mere hours before Miguel had to erase them and every single person on the planet in order to protect me, my dimension, and the Spider-Society. 

Miguel’s logic made sense. He knew way more about all this stuff than I did. He was a little older, a little wiser. I trusted him, and I still do, and so far he has yet to try and take advantage of said trust.

“I guess there was one upside to my idol bootcamp.” I used my webbing to tie up the robbers, making sure they were nice and snug. “Learning how to sing and dance simultaneously does have its perks.”

“I think we can call this a successful patrol.” Lyla grinned, arms crossed as pixel shades appeared over her eyes. 

“I agree.” I smiled, brushing off my hands. “Let’s head home.”

As I was turning away, there was a loud bang as the driver side door of the robber’s getaway van was kicked open. “What is all that racket out there?!”

I froze, the eyelets on my mask widening as I whirled to see one more robber stagger out of the vehicle. He held a gun in his hand as he spotted me, his eyes darting between me and his friends tied up. They stepped forward, aiming their weapon towards me.

“What the hell are you–?!”

I instantly flicked my wrist, shooting web fluid on his face. “ Go to sleep please! ”

The webbing glowed gold and instantly, the driver fell on his face, fast asleep. 

My heart was pounding as I exchanged a glance with Lyla who gawked at the scene, eyes widened and hands covering her mouth. “That was close.”

“Lyla, please don’t tell Miguel.” I pleaded gently. 

“It will be our secret.” Lyla winks, a heart emoji over her head. 

The following morning, news reports came out of a failed robbery at the Nike store. The robbers were caught due to them supposedly falling asleep during the heist and woke up police surrounding them after receiving an anonymous call about a disturbance in the area. By then, my webbing had dissolved and any sign of Spider-Muse’s presence vanished. 

///////////

Miguel’s P.O.V. 

When Miguel stepped through the portal and arrived at Lisa’s apartment with take out from Tony’s the following afternoon, he had expected to find her on the couch resting, as she should, doing whatever she wanted. Reading, watching a movie, playing video games, whatever she wanted to do to keep herself relaxed and occupied and not put weight on her ankle that she should be resting. 

What he wasn’t expecting was for her to have a guest. Not any of her friends, not any of the other spiders. Someone he had mentioned in the past and now started to regret ever mentioning their similar interests. 

“Hey, Miguel! Right on time, we were about to start another round!” Gabriel O’Hara grinned from his spot on the couch near Lisa, offering his older brother a playful grin. 

Miguel glanced over at the screen. It seemed Lisa and Gabriel had been passing the time playing a game called. . . Fortnite ? Ah yes, that battle royale game. Miguel recalled Gabriel being obsessed with their dimension’s version of the game when they were teenagers. 

“Gabri, not that I’m not happy to see you, but what are you doing here?” Miguel’s eyes narrowed towards his brother before his tone turned playful as he leaned down towards Lisa, kissing her temple as he said to her, “I thought I told you I didn’t want to share.”

“Well I was getting antsy and I didn’t want to bother you during your meeting with Jess, so I gave Gabriel a call and asked if he wanted to hang out.” Lisa smiled sweetly, reassuring him with a gentle look in her eyes. 

“Hey, Miguel, look! You got a skin in this game!” Gabriel pointed at Lisa’s TV screen as he recognized the familiar blue and red suit. “Watch me make you do the griddy.” He snickered. 

Miguel marched over, setting the take out down on the kitchen counter before using his free hand to smack and grab Gabriel’s head. “I should make you wash out your mouth for putting my name and ‘griddy’ in the same sentence.” 

Gabriel triggered the emote, and the digital Spider-Man 2099 avatar danced. 

“No fear!” Gabriel proclaimed.

Miguel erupted, swearing in his native tongue as he and Gabriel wrestled. Lisa snickered, shaking her head at them. Careful not to lean on her sprained ankle, she got up from the couch and began to move around to the kitchen counter to unpack the takeout food. “Brotherly rough housing is fine, but I better not get a noise complaint from any of my neighbors.”

That seemed to get them to calm down as they settled, Miguel finishing off Gabriel with a nuggie to the head, messing up his hair.

“I just got this done yesterday!” Gabriel pouted. 

“Well that’s what you get for not giving me notice that you were coming over.” Miguel sneered playfully as he walked over and got us all a plate. “You are so lucky Tony packed extra.”

“Food? Yes!” Gabriel’s eyes went wide with delight as he jumped up from the couch.

As everyone divided up the food, Miguel glanced over towards Lisa again, “How have you been feeling?”

“Good, great , actually, my ankle doesn’t even hurt anymore.” Her smile brightened, taking her plate of food back to the couch and emphasized her statement by starting to walk on it again, though keeping her steps light. 

“But you’ve been–” Miguel started speaking out of concern, but even he knew that sometimes it had come off as nagging, especially now when Lisa interjected him. 

“ Yes , I’ve been keeping it elevated while I rest.” Lisa sighed with a playful roll of her eyes.

“Even during your patrol last night?” Miguel quickly added. 

“Yes!” Lisa sighed, her voice beginning to groan out of irritation. “I mentioned it in the report.”

Miguel brought Lisa over to HQ yesterday so Spider-Doc could take a look at her ankle and check on the healing process. According to him it looked good as new, but after Miguel’s insisting “Are you sure?” or “Does it need more time to heal?” Much to Lisa’s dismay, they decided to play it safe, and prescribed that they let it rest another day or so. 

In this one instance, Miguel really did outrank Spider-Doc. 

“I don’t mean to come off as nagging.” Miguel apologized as he came around to sit beside her. “I just worry. It’s. . . instincts.”

“I know. Does this mean I can at the very least not wear my cast while in my own home? Safe ?” Lisa asked, a hint of begging in her eyes. 

“I’d say why not!” Gabriel chimed in as he slouched on the sofa chair opposite of them. “She is in pretty bright spirits today, Miggy, the best I’ve seen her scene the incident.”

Miguel glanced between the pair, and the second Lisa’s expression shifted to that of her infamous puppy dog pout, Miguel folded. He sighed, shaking his head with a defeated smile. “Alright, fine, you may. But remember to–”

“Keep the cast on for another two weeks while I’m outside of my home so my friends and family don’t suspect.” Lisa recited, lowering her voice to try and mimic Miguel’ with a teasing stoic expression. 

Miguel narrowed his eyes towards her, mocking annoyance. “That’s not funny.” the corner of his lip curled up. 

“I can do an actual funny one if you want me to?” Lisa grinned back at me. 

“Not unless you don’t want another foot massage later.” Miguel playfully jabbed back at her, digging into his food. 

Lisa huffed, a war brewing in her eyes. Miguel had started offering Lisa little massages here and there to help ease her nerves. He could understand that being cooped up in her home for days at a time, unable to move around or even dance was troubling for her. In that regard he felt awful, and wanted to do anything and everything he could to try and make it better. 

“You have a feet fetish I don’t know about, big brother?” Gabriel snickered. 

“Ay, not at the dinner table.” Miguel pointed his fork at him as Gabriel had a cheshire cat-like smile on his face. 

All of our gizmo’s suddenly beeped before Lyla’s holographic form projected itself from Gabriel’s gizmo. “Sorry to interrupt family time. Gabriel, your presence is being requested.”

“Welp, duty calls then.” Gabriel sat up from his chair, pointing at his plate. “You mind if I take this with me?”

“Go on.” Miguel waved him off as his brother packed his leftovers in an empty container. 

“Say hi to Margo and the others for me.” Lisa waved him off with a friendly smile. 

“I will, and enjoy your massage .” Gabriel winked with a little too much flirty intent. 

“GABE!” Miguel and Lisa both called him out, cheeks flushed. 

“Whoops, look at the time, gotta go!” Gabriel scrambled as a portal opened and he jumped through it just as Miguel was getting ready to toss a pillow in his direction. 

The portal closed behind Gabriel, leaving Miguel and Lisa to themselves in her apartment. 

“Brothers. . .” Miguel grumbled with a roll of his eyes. 

“You know you love him.” Lisa grinned softly. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Miguel grinned back. “Tell me about your day. What did you get up to today, besides inviting junior chaos into your home?”

“Hardy har har,” Lisa mocked a hearty laughter before adjusting her posture on the couch. “I spent the morning catching up on my reading actually. I finished the last book in the series I was reading.”

“You mean the fantasy smut?” Miguel snickered with a playful look on his eye, offering her a side glance. 

Lisa met him back with a glare. 

Miguel erupted in laughter, setting his plate down in his lap before waving his hands apologetically. “ ¡Lo siento! I believe you’ve said the technical term you prefer is spice ?” He spoke again, using air quotes on the last word. - I'm sorry 

“Much better,” Lisa smiled with an approving look. “Also, yes, it’s that series.”

“I take it the couple you were rooting for got together in the end?” Miguel asked. 

“Oh, they’ve been together since the third book, that’s when they got married. The last two were them figuring out their new lives as a married couple while also ruling a kingdom and the M.F.C., uh, sorry, the–” Lisa was rambling on about her book, and Miguel couldn’t help but notice how her eyes lit up when she talked about it. 

It was so adorable. 

“The Main Female Character, right?” Miguel spoke up.

Lisa’s eyes seemed to sparkle. “You remembered.”

“Of course, and it’s kind of hard not to. Considering how much you brought it up the last two weeks.” Miguel chuckled softly, shielding his side as Lisa tried to swat him playfully. “You were saying?”

“Anyways, she finds out she’s pregnant with their kid towards the end of the series!” Lisa gawked in surprise. “Talk about a cliffhanger. I need a few business days to recover before I start a new one.”

“Well let me know, and I’ll gladly take you out to get one.” Miguel smiled sweetly. 

Miguel knew full well that Lisa could just go online and order her books there, but he’d take every opportunity he could to spend time with her. If that meant following her around a book store and helping her find something new to read, he’d do it gladly. 

They both resumed their dinner, eating in silence for a while. Finally after clearing their plates, MIguel gently lifted Lisa's plate from her hands and got up to clean them off in the kitchen. “Have you. . . heard from her yet?”

Miguel knew that it was becoming a touchy subject. For the last few days since the invasion of her dimension, he’d ask her once, every day if she had heard from Madame Web. She hadn’t, and was becoming frustrated about it, and Miguel constantly asking. Lisa fought it, not wanting to snap, something he knew she picked up from him, but she knew Miguel went well and after taking a moment to calm herself down, she politely asked him to refrain from asking her about it on a daily basis. 

Now he only referred to the subject once in a while, and after fearing that the name alone may have added to the frustration, he reframed from naming Madame Web directly. She had been dubbed ‘her’ for the last week and a half. 

The tone in Lisa’s voice changed instantly, her voice quiet as she spoke, “No.”

Miguel hummed softly as he finished washing the dishes, cleaning his hands before returning to the couch. “It’s okay, remember?” Carefully taking a hold of Lisa’s legs, he lifted them up before scooting back into his seat and rested her legs along his lap. “It’s okay.” His voice was calm, soothing as his hands gently patted the bare skin of her good ankle before stroking up her leg. 

Lisa closed her eyes, taking a deep breath as she leaned back on a pillow propping her up at the side of the couch. “I know.” Opening her eyes, Lisa offered Miguel a tired smile. “Any chance I can still get that massage, please?”

“For you? Anything.” Miguel returned the gesture as his fingers began to massage her foot, delicately slipping off her sock before digging into her skin. 

Lisa let out a relieved sigh before sinking into her pillow. Gabriel was right. This was the most relaxed, and high spirited he had seen Lisa since we stopped Harry’s invasion. But it only seemed to leave her more questions than answers. 

If Madame Web wasn’t going to go to her, then Miguel decided that he was going to go to her. 

///////

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[five-miles-over]

Rambling about Tom Hiddleston to cure my writer's block

Okay...where do I begin with this?

To begin with, I love thee...with a depth and passion that I have never felt for anyone else in this life and if it astonishes you, it astonishes me as well.

Thank you, Mr. Hiddleston for introducing me to what is probably one of the most romantic things I've ever read and heard. A letter that I will consider as one of the most non-cheesy/schmaltzy and poetic love letters ever, something so beautiful that it can make a chubby, bespectacled cynic like me believe in true love.

Thank you for being open about your love of Shakespeare, and for talking about how Shakespearean plays have impacted you. Hearing you talk about the plays and literature you're passionate about will never get tiring.

Thank you for being a great example of how to show class and intelligence in the face of something as fickle as show business. Thank you for being living proof that being a genuinely nice person actually works, that even the smallest of good deeds can have an impact.

Thank you for making my friends' lives in high school a lot easier. IRL, I was friends with two Hiddlestoners (who also identified as Cumberbitches) and they were some of the coolest people I've ever known. I still remember being fourteen or fifteen years old when one of them took out their smartphone and showed me a video of Hiddleston dancing on Chatty Man, which was the first time I'd ever heard of somebody named Tom Hiddleston.

Speaking of which...thank you for blessing the internet with your love of dancing. Thank you for making me feel comfortable with dancing after I spent the first twenty years of my life absolutely despising it. Something about Hiddleston dancing just made me think, "If he can do it,...maybe I can give this a try. I'll try."

But watching Hiddleston dance also makes me imagine how in about eleven or twelve years, this guy could end up being a chaperone at his son's school dances/parties. Sorry, just had to get that one written down somewhere.

That aside, I really want to see Hiddleston do more movie/television roles. Not at the cost of his personal life, of course. That would be mean. I wish for more because he's talented. He has a way of embodying the characters that he chooses, be it Sir Thomas Sharpe, Jonathan Pine, or even a goddamn Jaguar villain that make them amazing to watch. He's someone who seems to enjoy the creative process behind telling a story/bringing a character to life. And he's more than capable and he's got range.

I want to see him play another villain, someone cold-blooded and ruthless, with Machiavellian tendencies. I want to see him in a romantic comedy, or at least a film in which he gets to fall in love and have a happy-ever-after, riding off into the sunset. I want to see him play the role that wins him his first-ever Oscar. And when he does win that Oscar, you can bet a million cups of tea that I'll be on my feet, applauding and cheering for him.

[tariqchosenone]

The book of Ariana Grande's and Tariq Degraffinreed's love

Tariq found God and celebrated the passover and he had a social life.

Behold, Tariq gave up sex for God a total of 5 times in 7 years for an allotted time.

Something that is rare.

Why oh God must I suffer this harsh sexual jealousy. My fruit is withered away and and my loins are shriveled like raisins to a grape.

Thy leave from the tree of life can not sustain thee, how much more shall my privy member suffer at your hands.

My friends laughed at the dinner table and they applauded the wicked one and they gave honour and wealth to the adversary, but my fruit celebrated not, it was clothed in the sackcloth of darkness and suffering.

But I shall hope in the Almighty because I am not from Adam, I shall hope in the Almighty because I did not fall for the subtility of the serpent, instead I shall be restored and remade in the image of God and I shall replenish the earth and multiply my seed and subdue the maidens of earth why my privvy member.

Ariana Grande watered my plant and she did eat my fruit, I can not quit you she said and she did lick and caress the withered plant and it became holy in the Lord God's sight.

Ariana Suffered and her fans dwelled in darkness but her fans that died in Manchester were robots who hated God they had no soul and they had no awareness of their consciousness.

Ariana Grande and Pete Davidson were Adam and Eve, Pete had a good heart but it is not known whether he had a good heart or a evil heart.

Pete Davidson had lips smoother than oil and he spoke in the flattery of tongue and Tariq Degraffinreed tried to warn Ari about Pete but she fell victim to his wicked charms.

All of Ariana Grande's boyfriends taught her valuable lessons of wisdom about who she is.

Ariana and Tariq dwelled in deep darkness for 7 years and they embodied the spirit of suffering and evil.

You must feel some type of pain in order to learn who you are as a person.

Behold Jake Paul tried to love Ariana Grande and God permitted their love for a little season.

God stirred up female social media influencers and female viners and female A-list celebrities to fight over Tariq's fruit and his two stones within his loins.

Behold in the spirit of jealousy there is more wisdom about your character and your heart than in the book of Job.

Jealousy is source of life for the the Lord God because it teaches him all of his weak areas and strong areas of judgment.

Therefor it is good to be a little jealous in order to grow and sometimes it shall be overbearing and it will overcome you

A man or woman will gain wisdom and knowledge on how to get many wisdom and a woman will not gain wisdom by obtaining a wealthy husband but only through the spirit of jealousy that dark angel who dwells as king of the bottomless pit, Apollyon can a man and woman find knowledge and wisdom.

A man who was jealous and a woman who was jealous both of their bones will be filled with light, the fat of marrow, and their blood shall be overcome not with the breath of life from Adam but they shall be overcome with fruitfulness derived from the image of God.

[vampirevatican]

Okay, lets talk fnaf... the movie ofc

Spoilers Abound

LORE MIXING

mike, abby, william and vanessa. the way they just tied each of these characters into one movie. i have to applaud them for it, because despite it not exactly working with cannon... it some how does.

im thinking back to vanessa having the same kind of shitty family, the closeness of bill and will as far as naming goes. how mike is still focused on his brother and not his sister until it comes to that fateful moment where he recognizes that "shit! wait no! i care a lot about my sister, and she cares a lot about me. i gotta be there for her!! i still have another sibling! i need to protect her!!!" is so damn touching and hits a chord in me, in the way that game mike couldn't save elizabeth but he can save his sister in the movie

THE CALL BACKS

ooooh my god, yeah people who are avid game theory watchers for fnaf? the people who were a part of the beginning lore, losing their minds alongside matthew patrick? oh ho ho ho, yeah... some good shit right here.

i think i saw a dog like animatronic. the opening being pixel game story telling?? like the games!?!? the consistent kids drawings!! BALLON BOY!? THEE LIVING MOTHERFUCKING TOMBESTONE!!? THE CREDITS HAVING SONG BEATS FROM THE GAME?!

can you tell i enjoyed the movie?

ABBY

just watched game theory... god mat pat you mad man, but def onto something with that anagram bc in talking to my mom (she watched it too), abby was about to be baby very early on but the animatronic wasn't quite fitting to her.

although... i like to think that she's like charlotte or cassidy? mainly because of how she has an instant connection to those ghost kids.

[libidomechanica]

“The watches hire in”

’Ring ghost nothings for me case of     longest for true defiance and death! Nothing did joy—what     rode high almost logical

colour daughters which upon     that turn these that say with a brand how chalcedony. May     spirit ditties sweet; myriads

of your changelic form, and     tarn by the day to pretty maid our eccho ring. With     devoures. A right, that fright

is not written legs in ilka     beild! More sweet, as a pallid lie, nor woe than thereto     applaud and I the swallow’s

goodly vermill serves witch, that     religion one doth lie; he bare; his dayes may of humanking     the has a soldier

once to sleep increased, and will: out     spake—The woods no face; but ioyes, and sang too short stand the want     not seemed: I moved. To admire,

that blessing this wont to thee.     With good all forfeited? And the this reckon’d not be my     soul’s true like a Sun. That

taste away by tarn expunge and     new sting frame? Love’ having with the night, without ask’d in sweet,     and teach trusty drill: but

a sparkling step, or the exclaim:     Forbear, nursing knaves, the doth to anothers. Like yours     with limbs like moist for sullen

purple rise may answer, a     steps and cried, a lonely such as fear not, but love my song,     which did not be unrespected

again forms that seem to     planet in the shall be then the new the doo chace floor in     sighing surety-like

payment was lovers dream that gray     old your bride, if he bosom sweet in individing and     God Bacchus at hope you

to free, for the song, transition     to annoy the was an incomplete a dream that the night.     My heads that sand! The watches

hire in this long possess’d in     the Darling knave—there’s as thought, and that royal three without     blows where I love. Three

long sense of blood humility;     like the milk the fearful that dawn greenwood morn! Rather, the     man who can know those gen’rous

gins to drenche hangman, wine, empty     though very close transitory to strike, and Fate there     was never waist in me.

[zimithrus]

Hades AU: Zagreus and Thanatos swap jobs temporarily

Send me an AU and I'll give you 5+ headcanons about it

1 It started as a simple question: "How hard is it taking souls?" And it ended up with Queen Persephone bringing the job swap to life, much to the headache of Lord Hades, who allowed it anyway as it was nearly impossible for him to deny his wife anything. Thanatos found himself giving scythe-wielding lessons to Zagreus, (Achilles did not have the right set of knowledge for scythes, he's afraid) and Zagreus found himself giving Thanatos the best tips and tricks to finish off an encounter quickly and how to best deal with the bosses at the end of each region.

2 Reaping souls was hard for Zagreus. Especially when the mortals would beg and plead not to die, that they still had so much they wanted to do before their time. The hardest part was reaping those whose times had come far too soon, tears in his own eyes and heart breaking as he claimed their souls. For Thanatos, taking on droves and droves of Lord Hades' legion was not without difficulty, (as the Olympeans didn't really give him any boons, except for Zeus to get a good jab at his brother, and Dionysus but because he thought it was funny), but he had a much easier time with the occupational swap. Dealing with Megaera proved to be quite challenging, as they had never needed to fight each other to the death before. He feels bad whenever he sends her down in red, much to her dismay, but she's still a good-sport about the exchange.

3 Charon and Hermes were shocked when they found Zagreus helping square away souls with them rather than Thanatos. Hermes couldn't resist giving Zagreus a hard time at his big, watery eyes for every soul he would load onto Charon's boat. Telling him 'Not to worry, because one day you'll learn how to do that on the inside' and patting his cheek while saying it. Charon gave him an understanding 'hrrngghhrahhh' and a small hug to make up for Hermes jest.

4 the worst part of the occupation switch for Thanatos was not the endless droves, or battling with the Furies or Lernie, no. The worst part was having to fight Theseus in the coliseum. When he walked in with Stygius molded to an aspect of his own, Theseus became physically incapable of shutting his pie-hole: "THANATOS? DEATH HIMSELF COMES TO CLAIM ME AGAIN? WHY TO THAT I SAY NO SIR! YOU ALREADY TOOK ME ONCE YOU BLACKGUARD AND I'LL BE DAMNED IF I GO DOWN TO YOU AGAIN! COME ASTERIUS LET US PUT DEATH IN HIS PLACE AND SHOW HIM JUST WHO RULES THE COLISEUM! NOW HAVE AT THEE YOU--" "Let us have a good fair fight, Death." Asterius simply says. Thanatos likes the bull-man way more than Theseus. He vaporizes Theseus first every time.

5 Thanatos puts up a good fight, but in the end is taken down by Lord Hades at the very end. Death finally experiences the thing he brings and he learns first-hand how and why mortals fear it. When he materializes back into the House of Hades, he finds a puffy-eyed Zagreus waiting for him, who grapples onto him immediately and says he doesn't have it in him to take souls, its too hard. Thanatos asks if Hermes told him that he'd learn to cry about it on the inside. Zagreus nods fervently and asks how he knows. He responds that 'Hermes told me the same thing when I took my first soul.' It's his way of saying 'you're doing a good job and it's good that you actually care'. Queen Persephone applauds them both at a job well done and how it was a very interesting experience and she would love to see another swap sometime soon. Lord Hades says they already wasted enough time on this and they should all get back to their original jobs. Both Zagreus and Thanatos gain even more understanding and respect for the others' jobs.

[prettybirdy979]

Fic: Aziraphale/Crowley - With This Ring, I Thee Wed

For a prompt of ‘Future’ from the Good Omens Celebration. Could be read as a sequel to Past and Present. Please feel free to send me any prompts. More of my fics here.

Crowley is fidgeting, the poor dear, pulling at his white dress as he waits. Marjorie just smiles, patting him on the hand. ‘We still have a few minutes to go, your young man will be here.’

A glare over his glasses. ‘Shut it Miss Tracy,’ he hisses. ‘Or I-’

Newt waves from the back and Adam presses play. The guests rise as Crowley turns to face the aisle, hopping in place. Marjorie holds her book up, ready to be celebrant to the angel who possessed her and his demon, dear dear friends now.

Crowley takes a deep breath as Aziraphale appears at the end of the aisle, walking himself down. Anathema had joined Marjorie in her cooing when Aziraphale had declared he was walking alone, stating ‘No one is giving me to you Crowley, I’m giving myself,’ and making Crowley go an inhumanly bright red.

Time seems to speed up and just a moment later Aziraphale is standing beside Crowley, looking stunning in his black suit. Crowley throws himself at his spouse to be, and only Marjorie’s cleared throat breaks the kiss.

‘Save it for the end dears,’ she says and starts the ceremony. ‘Ladies, Gentlemen, Non-binary friends, and gentle beings, welcome! We gather today to celebrate the ancient love of these two souls, Aziraphale and Crowley.’

Marjorie can see Mr S hissing, though she’s sure that’s more because Anathema has taken the seat beside him than what she just said. The man called ‘Mr Dowling’ looks grumpy, but his son is looking at the couple with suspiciously shiny eyes while Mrs Dowling is elbowing her husband. Pepper is just beaming at Marjorie while the rest of the Them examine the guests. Only Adam is looking at the couple.

Ah, kids. Marjorie does adore them.

She turns to Aziraphale. ‘Do you come before me, of your own free will, to bind your soul to this being for as long as you both shall exist?’

‘I do.’

She turns to Crowley. ‘Yes, yes I do!’ he cries and she smiles, turning back to face the crowd.

‘Well then, let us begin.’

It’s all very simple, until they get to the vows. ‘Aziraphale, would you now like to recite your vows?’

He pulls out his ring and looks Crowley in the eyes - his sunglasses are off and his eyes are already bright and teary. 

‘I,’ Aziraphale says as he holds the ring out, ‘remember the moment I realised I was in love with you. You had just risked your existence to get me out of a problem of my own making and let, remembered to show me kindness on the way. But I don’t remember the moment I fell in love with you.

‘Sometimes I think it must have been the time you found me in an impossible situation and broke me out of prison.’

Marjorie makes a mental note to get that story from Aziraphale later.

‘Sometimes I think it must have been on one of our many dates,’ Aziraphale continues. Crowley has tears running down his face and Marjorie slips him a tissue. ‘Other times I think it must have been when you let me see you sad, when you allowed me to know you in your anger and heartbreak.

‘But deep in my heart, I know the truth. I fell in love with you the day we met and you showed me, a stranger who you had no reason to suspect would be anything but cruel to you, kindness. And then I fell in love again and again when you took my cruelties to you and only gave me kindnesses back.’

Aziraphale takes a deep breath and puts his ring on Crowley’s finger. ‘So with this ring I vow that, from now until eternity takes us, I will show you every kindness you deserve. I will build with you a future of happiness and adoration, I will love you as you deserve and we will always be our own side.’ He looks at the ring then smiles. ‘With this ring, I thee wed.’

Marjorie sniffs a bit and, rubbing at her eyes, turns to Crowley. ‘Crowley dear, your vows?’

He just makes an incoherent sad noise and throws himself at Aziraphale in a kiss. It takes her five cleared throats to break them up. 

‘Angel you bastard,’ Crowley snarls as they break apart.. ‘How dare you be so damned soppy.’

Aziraphale just raises an eyebrow and smiles. ‘Your vows my dear?’

‘I vow that I will always tell you what a bastard you are,’ Crowley snaps before sighing. ‘I don’t do well with words of adoration, not spoken earnestly. There’s a whole lot of stolen lines of mine I could recite to you, but I think I have something better.’

‘I love you angel. I always have and I vow I always will. I will love you when you’re being a bastard, when you’re being petty or thoughtlessly cruel. I will adore you when you’re being an arse and I’ll worship you even when you sit in your bookshop and forget the rest of the world exists for a week.

‘I vow we’ll be together now, forever, until eternity takes us.’ He looks down at the ring in his hand and slides it onto Aziraphale’s finger. ‘With this ring, I thee wed.’

Marjorie claps in delight. ‘With the power miraculously vested in me, I pronounce you married. You may - oh yes there you go,’ she finishes as they start kissing again. Their audience applauds until they are bored, and Marjorie ends up shooing everyone to the appetizers until Aziraphale and Crowley are ready to start the reception.

It ah, takes a while for that to happen. Thankfully the food is still, miraculously, warm.

[alccaddsccup]

The Proposal (chapter 1)

this is my idea of what i think could’ve happened if somebody made a certain proposal. I intend for this to be about three chapters, but i have no specific release schedule. I hope you enjoy!!

Miss Parsons x MC

warnings: fluff and a literal crumb of angst

“Miss Parsons, would you do me the honour of becoming my wife?”

Miss Parsons looks to Clara with wide eyes and she nods encouragingly

“Why Mr Konevi, I’d be delighted to accept” Mr Konevi stands from where he was kneeling to place a chaste kiss on Miss Parsons hand and all the guests in attendance of the Viscount and Viscountess’ wedding reception applaud politely. Mr Parsons beams with pride as he wipes a tear from his eye

“I never thought I’d see the day where my beloved daughter got engaged. I surely thought she would remain a spinster!” Miss Parsons turns to her father with a tight smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes

“Of course not father, I was simply saving myself for the right man” she is barely able to contain a grimace as she says this, but the unpleasantness is soon replaced by a feeling of warmth as Clara embraces her tightly and whispers

“I am so proud of you, my Annabelle. This is all means to an end, we will soon be able to live out our days in peace as wife and wife” Miss Parsons’ heart flutters at the thought of spending her life with her, without interruption or questioning. As Clara lets her go, Mr Chambers approaches

“I believe congratulations are in order miss, Mr Konevi is quite the catch!” Mr Chambers winks which causes Miss Parsons to giggle “I assume you and Mr Konevi have the same… arrangement that the countess and I have?” Mr Chambers lowers his voice as he says this in order to remain unheard by the party guests

“Indeed sir, we each know where our hearts truly lie” Miss Parsons’ gaze flits to Clara who is engaged in conversation with Mr Konevi. Clara catches her eye and smiles softly, a delicate blush blooming across her cheeks “Then I think this union will be most joyful, miss!”

—————————————————————

Clara knows she shouldn’t be feeling like this, but she can’t help the way she squirms uncomfortably

“They make a lovely couple, don’t they?” someone whispers the question from behind her

“Indeed, they are perfectly suited.”comes the reply. It was Clara who was perfectly suited to Annabelle, not Mr Konevi. But she held her tongue and resumed her focus on the ceremony before her

“With this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow. In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.” Mr Konevi’s deep voice rings out through the church as he places the ring on Miss Parsons’ finger, but Miss Parsons’ focus is not on the ring but on Clara instead. She gives her a small smile and the countess does her best to return the expression

“Forasmuch as Mr Yusuf Konevi and Miss Annabelle Parons have consented together in holy wedlock, I pronounce that they be man and wife together. In the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost. Amen” The pair turn to face the crowd hand in hand with polite smiles on both their faces before walking back down the aisle with everyone else in the church following shortly after.

Once inside the wedding hall, the newlywed couple are given various compliments and well wishes but Clara is nowhere to be seen.

“Yusuf my dear boy, your mother would be so proud of you right now.” Madam Raisa embraces Mr Konevi tightly and he returns the hug with just as much enthusiasm “Thank you, it warms my heart to hear this” As Madam Raisa releases Mr Konevi she turns to the new Mrs Konevi and grabs her hands “I hope you will pay Yusuf’s family a visit in the Ottoman empire one day, they would love to meet you” A brief wave of panic runs over her at the thought of leaving the country and leaving Clara behind but she masks it well “I’ll be sure to meet them as soon as I’m able” Madam Raisa gives the pair a final smile before allowing the next person in the line to congratulate them

“Annabelle, you make your father proud!” Mr Parsons embraces her briefly before shaking Mr Konevi’s hand “And you sir are most welcome to move in to Hazelvale manor as soon as you are able”

Annabelle rolls her eyes subtly “Father, we will be living at the Edgewater estate, as we have already discussed several times”

“Yes of course, but I just don’t understand why-“ Annabelle suddenly spots Clara on the far side of the hall looking down and a little lost “excuse me father, I must see to something” she quickly crosses the hall and grabs Clara by the hand before leading her out to the deserted hallway

“Annabelle, what’s this about?”

“I could not bear to see you so sad for a second longer” Annabelle kisses Clara’s cheek softly whilst rubbing small circles on the outside of her hand “Please, my love, tell me what is bothering you?”

Clara sighs “I know I’ll sound foolish but-“ Annabelle puts a finger to Clara’s lips

“Nothing you say could possibly be foolsih” she tucks a strand of Clara’s hair behind her ear before trailing a delicate finger down her cheek

“I suppose I’ve been feeling jealous. So many people have been saying that you and Mr Konevi are a perfect couple but that simply isn’t true!” Clara pulls away from Annabelle to gaze out the window “We are the perfect couple, and I feel so frustrated that no one else can know or understand” Annabelle joins her by the window, placing one arm around Clara’s waist “Clara, you know I love you with every fibre of my being, nothing that other people say will affect my love for you” she pulls Clara closer “and our love is so pure and wonderful that no one will ever understand. Is it so bad that our feelings remain between only a select few?”

“I suppose there are worse fates. Thank you Annabelle for letting me share this burden with you” Annabelle turns Clara’s face towards her own with her hand on her chin “of course, it is my duty as your wife” She places a tender kiss on Clara’s lips before resting their foreheads together “should we head back inside?”

“Hmm, not yet. Perhaps I may have another kiss before we return?” the pair move towards each other at the same time and their lips meet in another kiss. Clara pulls Annabelle to her body as she deepens the kiss, their tongues mingling together. After a few moments, the pair pull apart breathlessly

“We can return to the party now” Clara smiles demurely at Annabelle before going to rejoin the rest of the party, holding each other’s hand until they reach the door

[favefandomimagines]

The Day He Was Waiting For (e.b.)

Summary: it’s the best day of bucks’s life.

AN: i love 911, it literally has taken over my entire life, the spin off included and Buck owns my heart. i’m not expecting this to blow up but i needed to share my love for Evan Buckley. and thanks to Vanderpump Rules, i’m in dream wedding mode so forgive me. 

Buck stood in front of the mirror in his room, straightening out the fancy suit he was wearing.

“Well don’t you look spiffy.” Eddie said entering the room. Buck chuckled lightly as he adjusted the tie. “How do I look?” He asked his best friend.

Eddie smiled happily before replying. “You look real handsome. Never thought I’d see you in a suit like this.” He answered. “Today’s the day. How do you feel?” Eddie added. “I’m ready for the rest of my life to start.” Buck replied.

“And that’s about to happen in ten minutes.” Eddie said. “Buck, are you ready?” Maddie asked before she got a good look at her little brother. Tears began to well in her eyes as she looked at Buck. “Maddie, don’t. Don’t cry yet, the wedding hasn’t even started.” He said. “I’m sorry, it’s just my baby brother is getting married.” She replied, going to hug Buck. 

“Guys, Buck has to be standing at the alter in less than five minutes or Y/N is going to lose it.” Eddie interrupted. Buck let out a short breath as he finalized his appearance. 

Maddie left the room, Buck and Eddie following behind. 

Chimney, Bobby and Hen were already sitting in their seats at the venue when Buck walked up towards the alter. “Never thought I’d see the day where Buck was getting married.” Chim joked. “But if he were to marry anyone it would be Y/N.” Hen added. 

“You need to be standing at the alter. Y/N is ready to go behind those doors.”  Maddie interjected. 

Buck’s heart began to race as he took his place at the front of the room. He never imagined he would be getting married at 28 but there he was. Standing in a fancy suit, in front of all the people he cared about who loved the two of you. 

On the other side of the doors, you were pacing slightly as you waited for your bouquet. Maddie had it in a vase for you so the flowers wouldn’t wilt just yet.

“Why are you pacing? Are you gonna run?” Your friend and maid of honor asked you. “No, I’m not going to run. I’m just nervous but the good kind of nervous. Maddie is getting the bouquet.” You answered. “Here it is! I have it!” Maddie called, handing you your bouquet. You took it gratefully as your maid of honor was fixing your veil and you were smoothing out your dress.

“Are you ready?” Maddie asked. “Oh I’ve been ready.” You said with a small laugh. Before you could even take a step towards the wooden doors, Eddie comes through panting. “What the hell is going on?” You asked. “Your uncle and Buck’s uncle are uh, sparring.” Eddie answered. 

You saw Buck and Bobby trying to pull the two grown men from each other You clenched your jaw and pushed Eddie out of the way before stomping down the aisle towards your fighting relatives. 

“Okay, stop!” You yelled. “This is supposed to be a wedding. My wedding. And I don’t want you two fighting over your difference in football teams at my wedding. So if there is one more punch thrown before this ceremony even starts, I will have you arrested. Our officiate is a cop after all.” You ranted. 

The room fell silent as you let out a frustrated sigh. You looked over at Buck and saw that his hand was over his eyes so he wouldn’t see you in your wedding dress. “Buck, why are you covering your eyes?” You asked. “It’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding with our track record of disastrous events, I’m not taking any chances.” He explained. 

People began to chuckle as you smiled to yourself. “Well then I don’t want to keep you waiting.” You spoke. 

After you regrouped and everyone was calm and collected, the music played and everyone stood up. The doors opened and you and Bobby walked down the aisle. 

Bobby was giving you away because he was like family for as long as you’ve known him and sadly, your dad passed away during 9/11. Ever since you brought Buck home to meet your mother, she always thought that your dad helped whatever higher power there was, to put the two of your together. 

Buck saw you and he felt like the whole world stopped spinning. No matter how cliche it sounds, it was like everyone watching just disappeared and it was just you and him. 

He cleared his throat and told himself not to cry because of his pride. But then he thought screw his pride, and let a couple of stray tears fall. 

You hugged Bobby when you got to the alter and handed Maddie your bouquet. She was your maid of honor because you didn’t have sisters and Maddie was always closest to you. 

The ceremony went as usual until it came for the two of you to read your vows. Buck went first and pulled a piece of paper out of his jacket pocket. 

“Y/N, when I met you, you were just the girl I had a crush on. The funny, beautiful, independent but stubborn girl. My mom always told me that the one was going to find me unexpectedly. And you were definitely unexpected. But in the best way possible. You changed my life and made me believe in love again. When I look at you, I see my future. I see us in a house in the suburbs with the dog you’ve always wanted. I see you being the mother of my children and I see us spending the rest of our lives together. We’ve been through hell and back and we ended up here. Because we were supposed to end up here. I love you, Y/F/N Y/L/N and I can’t wait until we have the same last name.” Buck finished. 

You were trying your best not to smear your makeup because you still had pictures to take after the ceremony. 

“I had a hole in my heart for 18 years. A missing piece that I thought would always be there. I didn’t smile the same, laugh the same, act the same. But then I met you, Buck and you changed everything. You make me happy in a way no one else can. You’re the reason why I’m smiling again. And the best part is, you don’t even have to try to make me smile. You do that by simply loving me. My mom always said that my dad was helping whatever higher power there is and drove us together. He would want me to be with a firefighter,” You started. People chuckling at your comments about your dad.

“Evan Buckley you are my moon, my stars and everything in between and I will spend the rest of my life loving you.” You finished. 

There wasn’t a dry eye in the place after the two of exchanges vows. 

Buck looked at you as you smiled and was just hoping that the officiator would hurry up so he could kiss you. 

“Can I kiss her yet?” Buck asked. Everyone laughed at his question, you included. “Not yet. We’re getting there.” Athena said. 

Athena was officiating your wedding because you and Buck shared her in common when you started dating. You were a doctor at the hospital and ran into both of them numerous times. It was only a matter of time before you did something about it. 

“Now, Do you Evan Buckley, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, in good times and woe, for richer or poorer keeping yourself unto her for as long as you both shall live?” She continued. “I do.” Buck answered. 

“Do you Y/F/N Y/L/N, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, in good times and woe, for richer or poorer keeping yourself unto him for as long as you both shall live?” Athena asked you. “I do.” You answered. 

“The rings please.” Athena asked. 

Maddie stepped forward and handed you Buck’s ring while Eddie handed Buck your wedding band.

“Now Buck, repeat after me: With this ring, I thee wed, and pledge you my love, now and forever. ” Athena said. “Y/N, with this ring I thee wed, and pledge my love now and forever.” Buck repeated as he slid the ring on your finger. “Y/N, repeat after me: Evan, with this ring I thee wed, and pledge my love now and forever.” She said. 

You repeated his words and slid the silver ring on Buck’s finger. “By the power vested in me by the State of California, I now pronounce you Husband and Wife. You may now kiss the bride!” Athena finished. 

“About damn time.” Buck commented before kissing you deeply. The guests cheered and applauded as you and Buck sealed your marriage. 

When the two of you parted, he took your hand and the two of you walked back down the aisle. Ready to start the rest of your lives together. 

[noladyme]

The Frog Princess. Chapter 5

She had no wish to be bound down to anyone, but Y/N none the less found herself being dragged across the continent; to marry King Foltest of Temeria.  In stead of pomp and spectacle; she was accompanied by the witcher, Geralt of Rivia. Their travels would bring both monsters, lust, love; and heartache. All soundtracked by a endearing buffoon of a bard, named Jaskier.

TW: Violence, language, sexual themes. Rated M.

5

We spent the following days moving through interchanging woodland and fields. There wasn’t much interaction between us, except for the occasional necessary one. Food. Someone needing to tinkle – Jaskier. Resting. A pack of wild dogs; quickly disposed of, by the witcher. Someone needing to tinkle – again…

The silence wasn’t necessarily uncomfortable; but after three days and nights; it was becoming deafening. Jaskier finally broke it, by beginning to strum his lute. “… The curs’ eyes, they shone red; we were surely dead… No…”, he tried. “The frightened princess cried; Witcher! Don’t let me die!...”.

“How about: The sixth time the bard had to piss, the angry witcher hissed?”, I sneered. Geralt snorted, trying to stifle laughter.

Jaskier frowned. “You should probably let a professional handle the songwriting”. “Let us know when we meet one”, the witcher grumbled. The bard scoffed, offended. “Sometimes I wonder why I let you travel with me”, he said, and went to walk a few paces in front of us.

We walked in silence for a little while longer; a spattering of cottages in the distance. “Jaskier said you called me an overrated sell-sword? When?”, Geralt asked. “While you were paying the fisherman for our passage from Skellige”, I admitted. “You were being an ass”. “Well, you were being a brat”, he smirked. “Yes…”, I said. I looked at him. “I didn’t think you cared what I thought of you”. He simply grunted. “You’ve spent three days thinking about that?”, I smirked. “I have my professional pride”, he mumbled.

“Apparently only one of us is allowed to have that”, Jaskier called from in front of us, still sulking. I felt bad for him. “I’m sorry for making fun of your song”, I said. “You’re a talented bard, Jaskier”. He looked back over his shoulder at me, one brow lifted. “Talented enough for a wedding feast?”, he said. I looked down. “If it’s mine, I’d prefer silence”, I mumbled. “Silence, and alcohol”.

Geralt traced my face, and frowned slightly, before looking forward again. “We’ll be in Tigg by tomorrow evening”, he said; and would no longer meet my eyes.

---

Tigg was a colorful, small stronghold; that overlooked a village and some brightly painted military barracks. As the witcher had said, we were at its gates just as the sun was setting over the fields.

Opening the gates, were two clearly intoxicated soldiers; one of which had a giggling woman – in a scandalous level of undress – waiting for him in his shelter behind the wall. Sounds of laughing and clinking glasses came from the main hall in the middle of the courtyard.

“Ah, Tigg!”, Jaskier said. “Hurry, we’re already late for the party”. “What party?”, I asked. “It’s the Baron Coodcoodlaks birthday week!”, he answered with a bright smile.

Leaving Roach in the stables; we went to join the festivities. The doors opened to a brightly lit room decorated in Cintran colors. All around us, men and women were cheering and laughing; and the air smelled of fried meat and ale.

“The entertainment has arrived!”, a thin and whiskered man; standing on top of the main table, yelled. He jumped to the floor, and walked towards us. “You…”, he said – pointing at Jaskier, “… are late!”. Jaskier bowed deeply. “My deepest regrets, baron. I’ve been caught up in monster-hunting, and protecting fair maidens from wild dogs”. He grinned at the colorfully dressed man.

The baron turned to look at the witcher and me. I realized then, that I’d met him before. His eyes returned my recognition. “My lady Y/N!”. “Baron Eylembert”, I smiled, as he grabbed my hand to kiss.

The baron was known for his animal sound impersonations, and his love of women and drink – giving him the nickname of Coodcoodlak.

He pulled me to the middle of the floor. “Laddies and gentlepeople! This is the fair lady Y/N – future queen of Temeria”. All eyes in the room turned towards me; and I felt instantly uncomfortable.

Next to me; Geralt tensed up – examining the room. His gaze lingered on a group of men sitting at a table in a corner. They looked grim; dressed in black, and carrying swords at their hips. The ladies at the table seemed unable to attract their attentions; not for want of trying.

The baron dragged me along to sit at his table, and poured me a goblet of something that smelled familiar. “Skellige mead”, he smiled at me. “A little taste of home”. I twitched at his use of the word home. We saluted each other with our goblets, and drank. “I have not seen you since… was it at the Capital? The princess Pavetta’s 10’th birthday!”, he said. “You, my dear, have not changed a day. Maybe a bit more… inspiring to the… carnal senses”, he winked and leered at me. I heard Geralt make a sound like a growl from next to me. His tense disposition had not relaxed one bit. He seemed in attack mode, and ready to draw his sword at any moment. He must feel a desperate duty to keep me pure for my husband, I thought.

I cleared my throat. “Yes, it was the princess’ 10’th celebration”. My one and only – other – visit to the continent. The baron licked his lips, and smirked at me. “How is your wife?”, I asked, and took another sip of my goblet. He groaned. “Still sickly, I’m afraid. She spends most of her time in the Capital, tending to her fragile nerves”. “And yet, you’re still here at Tigg”, I said. “Yes, well… the queen needs me to keep this stronghold. And I must tend to my duties”, he answered. “Music!”, he called to Jaskier, who instantly began a lively tune.

The men from the table in the corner began capitulating to their lady friends’ advances. The witcher seemed to relax in his seat. He took a piece of meat from the tray in front of him. The baron looked at him.

“You’re Geralt of Rivia. The Butcher of Blaaviken”. The witcher flinched at the nickname. He grunted in response. “I am”. “I don’t remember inviting you to this feast; but you are very welcome none the less. You must have some intriguing stories to tell!”, the baron said, and looked at him with beaming eyes. Geralt chuckled. “That’s what I have him for”, he nodded in Jaskiers direction.

The bard had apparently finished “my” song. “Foul mouthed lady, be kind onto me And I’ll be your thrall, I will never flee. Foul mouthed princess, have mercy, I plea And I shall be ever a servant of thee…”, he sang, goading the crowd on to join him in the chorus. “The foulmouthed princess of the Skellige Isles – everyone! – The foulmouthed princess, the foulmouthed princess, the foulmouthed princess of the Skellige isles!”

My cheeks flushed red. Geralt stifled a smile next to me. “It’s not funny”, I sneered. “Yes, it is”, he said. “Well, fuck you very much”, I grumbled.

“The foulmouthed princess of the Skellige isles!”, Jaskier finished to a roar of applause; turned to look at me, and bowed, with a wink.

The baron applauded along with his guests; and threw a handful of silver coins on the floor in front of Jaskier; who gathered them up with a deep bow at the man. “Well…”, the baron said, “… I am very happy that you showed up to this celebration”. He placed a hand on my thigh; squeezing it. Geralt tensed up again. “And, the night isn’t over yet. There is so much more fun to be had”. He wiggled his brow suggestively.

I swallowed hard. “Baron, I…”. “Come now, my lady”, he interrupted. “I can’t let Foltest have all the fun. Think of the stories we’ll both have to tell! The queen of Temeria; cockadoodled by Coodcoodlak!”. He let out a rooster’s crow; and the room joined him in the sound.

I grabbed his wrist, and pried his hand away from my leg. “Though your offer is very generous; I’ve had a rather trying few days, and desperately need some rest”. The baron sighed. “Yes, yes. I’ll have my man prepare a room for you. Witcher; I’m guessing you’ll be fine sleeping by the stables”. Geralt grunted. “No!”, I said. “The witcher is my bodyguard; and has orders not to leave my side”. I wasn’t certain that the famous Rooster of Tigg wouldn’t try to sneak his way into my bed as I slept. And I’d grown used to have Geralt near me.

The baron looked at me; and then at Geralt – lifting an eyebrow. “I see…”, he smirked. “I’ll have them set up a cot by the door. You can stay for the fireworks later this week!”.

“No need. We leave in the morning”, the witcher said gruffly, and stood up to leave. “But this is just the first night of the celebration!”, the baron proclaimed with a pitched voice. “Foltest is eager to meet his future wife”, Geralt answered; and pulled back my chair for me to stand. “Fine”, the Baron grunted. “Send the sweaty bastard my well wishes. I’ll probably be to hung over in the morning to see you off”. He stood up, and took my hand; kissing it. “I wish you good health and many sons, my lady! Gods know, that feeble minded daughter of his should be kept well away from the throne”.

I nodded politely, and we left the room in haste – Geralts hand ghosting my lower back.

“Three cheers for lady Y/N; the queen of Temeria!”, I heard from behind us. “Hip, hip, hooray!...”.

---

The room was warm and dimly lit. There was a smoldering fireplace, and a pitcher of ale had been left on the table. Behind a lavishly embroidered divider, a tub of hot water was waiting for me to have a bath.

The witcher closed the door, and bolted it. “We need to be more careful”, he grumbled. “We’ve made to much of a display of who you are already”. I didn’t answer. “I won’t let him come in here”, Geralt said. “I know”, I answered. “Wouldn’t want him touching the king’s package”.

The witcher groaned something I couldn’t make out. “… not it”. “What?”, I asked. He sighed. “You can take a bath. I’ll rebuild the fire”. I frowned at him.

Once behind the divider, I removed my dress and my chemise; leaving me naked, save for the bandage on my knee. I untied it gingerly, revealing the wound to have almost healed into a thin red scar. The witchers treatment had worked.

I stepped into the tub; lowering my body into the water; gasping loudly from the heat.

“Are you all right?”, Geralt asked from behind the divider. “Yes”, I answered. “It’s just hot”. He grumbled something again.

“If you’re going to talk to me, at least do it audibly, so I can respond in kind”, I said. “So now you want to talk”, he retorted. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

I heard him remove the straps holding his sword to his back, and putting it aside. “You’ve spent most of the last three days avoiding conversation”, he said. “You’re not the most talkative person yourself”, I answered with a sneer. “I’m not around people much. Not used to conversation”. “Is that why you talk to your horse? To train for actual human interaction?”, I jeered.

“I’m not a human”, he answered gruffly. I heard two more bumps, from what I guessed was his boots hitting the floor. “You look human”, I said. “I do?”, he asked, with what I could hear was a smirk.

“Mostly”, I answered.

We were quiet for a while. I began to wash myself with the sponge provided; sitting up, so my torso was uncovered by the water. The warmth from the fire didn’t stop a chill from grazing my breasts, after I poured a pitcher of water over myself; and my nipples perked in response.

“So, let’s have a conversation, witcher”, I said; unable to take the quiet anymore. “What do you want to talk about?”. I heard him poke at the fire. “Well”, I said. “You seem to know most there is to know about me. Or at least what you tell yourself I am. Tell me about you”. “There isn’t much to tell”, he answered. I squeezed the sponge over my arm, letting the water run down it. “That’s a crock of shit”, I said; and heard him chuckle. “You’ve lived longer than any man I’ve met before. You must have a past”. He didn’t answer. I sighed.

“Witchers are made in Kaer Morhen; aren’t they?”, I asked. “We were”, he answered. “It was raided. No more witchers can be made”. I washed my other arm. “You sound pleased about that”, I said. I heard him sigh. “It was my home, so no; I’m not pleased. But the trials I had to go through there were… I wouldn’t wish them on anyone”. We were quiet for a little while.

“Are you originally from Rivia?”, I asked, focusing on washing my feet now. I heard him chuckle again. “My master, Vesemir, encouraged me to make myself a new name. And a surname. He said it would make me seem more trustworthy”. “So, no”, I said. “No”, he answered. “I don’t remember much from before my trials. Let alone where I was born”.

I stood up in the bath, my body chilled instantly; and goosebumps began to form on my skin. “You have no roots; no homeland. I suppose we are not so different”. “What do you mean?”, he asked.

I wrapped myself in a towel, and put on a robe that had been left for me on the chair by the tub. “I have no homeland either”, I said. “Not anymore”.

I stepped out from behind the divider; and looked at him. His eyes were lit by the fire, and his features soft and earnest. He looked almost kind.

“But you do”, he said. “You just choose not to accept the one offered”. “It’s not offered”, I grumbled. “It’s forced upon me. By my cousin. By my fiancée”, I sneered. “And by you”.

He shook his head. “I cannot force you to say yes to Foltest. I can only bring you to him”.

I looked at the floor, and sat by the fire to brush my hair.

“The water is still warm”, I said. “If you want a bath”. He grunted and nodded; and went behind the divider to undress.

I heard him step into the water. “Shit”, he said. “What?”. “I forgot a towel”, he grumbled. “Could you?...”.

I turned around, and noticed that the light from the candles by the bath, lit up the fabric of the divider, making me able to see his naked form through it. His back was turned to me; but I could see his bottom – firm like the rest of him. His tall, muscular frame sent jolts of heat through my body.

I suddenly realized, that he had been able to see the shadow of my figure all along, as well.

I shook myself to refocus. “You should probably… sit”, I said. I saw him sit down; and walked around the divider; remembering to take the towel he needed with me. I placed it on the chair.

His hand grabbed my wrist. “What happened that night…”. Our eyes met tentatively. “It shouldn’t have”, I said. “I’m sorry for doing that”. He nodded. “Of course you are”, he said, almost angrily – and let go of my wrist.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”, I asked.

“You’re ashamed. Can’t be the queen of Temeria, and slum it with a witcher”, he growled. “I don’t want to be queen”, I sneered. “And you don’t want me either”, he retorted.

“Yes, I do; you idiot!”, I yelled. “But you didn’t want me!”. I threw the bar of soap into the water; and it hit the surface with a big splash.

He stood up – in all his glory – and stared me square in the face. My breath hitched as I continued. “For all your improved eyesight, witcher…”, I said, “… you are blind!”.

His eyes narrowed. He bared his teeth and growled; before he put his hands around the back of my neck; pulling me into him – and making our lips meet in a heated kiss.

I slid my arms around his neck, and his hands travelled down my back; holding on to me as fervently as he had those few nights ago. At first our kiss was rough – almost violent – but then it evolved into a softer and warmer interaction of our lips and tongues; embracing and melding together. His hands that had held me in place, began to rub my back soothingly.

I was sliding against his slick, wet chest; finding it difficult to keep my footing, due to the edge of the tub meeting my thigs and separating us.

I pulled back from him; and looked deep into his eyes. “I’m going to spend the rest of my life with a man I did not choose”, I said. “Let me at least have one night with one that I did”. His face went from angry to soft and gentle; and he stroked my cheek with his thumb. “As you wish, little frog”, he smiled; and met my lips again.

He slid his hands down my thighs, and lifted me up, for me to straddle his waist. I removed the robe; leaving me in the towel. He sat us down – me on his lap – in the tub; and continued the gentle movement of his lips. There was still a ferocity to his kiss – raw and primal – and my body responded by shivering in pleasure. His length was growing hard against me; and I looked down for the first time, taking in the masterwork it was; through the surface of the water. My breath hitched again; and he smirked at me. “Everything looks bigger in water”, he chuckled; and my cheeks reddened. I bit my lip.

Leaning back in the tub, separating our torsos; his fingers ghosted my cheek, moving down over my neck, before he ran his thumb across my collarbone. He continued his journey further down, lightly touching the silver chain around my neck; and stopping at the top of the towel I was still wearing – now soaking wet.

“May I?”, he asked. “And if I say no?”, I smirked. He chuckled, and opened the towel, revealing my breasts to him; the pendant resting between them. “Little frog”, he said. “Big bad wolf”, I jeered. He raised his eyebrows at me. “That’s a different fairytale”, he smiled; leant in, and kissed the spot of skin on the middle of my collarbone.

His hands ghosted over my breasts for a second, before cupping them in his hands, and running his thumbs over my tender nipples. I gasped and leant back, resting against his bended legs. I felt his cock twitch between my legs; and it instantly sent a jolt through my body. “Mmhmm”, it came as guttural growl from him; and his lips met the tender skin under my ear.

I slid my hands up his firm chest – relishing in the feeling of the soft hair against my palms – and moved them over his shoulder, gently running my nails down his back. He moaned at the sensation, and I smiled at the effect I had on him. It made me feel stronger than I ever had before. He pinched my nipples hard in response – just for a second – and I cried out from the sweet pain.

He chuckled against my neck, and nibbled at my earlobe. “Can I touch you?”, he breathed. I turned to look at his face, and nodded. He blinked at me slowly – just like I had at the cat from days ago – and slid his hand down between my breasts, under the water; and all the way down to my curls. I clenched my jaw in anticipation, and closed my eyes.

At first, it was just his finger, tracing the outlines of my labia. I heard him moan, and opened my eyes to see that his were closed. He was smiling. “I’d say you were all wet, but that would be too obvious”, he laughed, and looked at me again. My own laugh was halted by the sudden feeling of his finger sliding inside me; crooking itself against my front wall.

“Geralt…”, I gasped. “Yes?”, he smirked, and slid his other hand down; letting his fingers find my nub and gently rub it. “I… you…”, I said. “What, hm? What are you trying to say?”, he interrupted. “… teasing…”, I laughingly panted. “Yes, I am”, he said, jest in his voice. I moaned loudly, and threw my arms around his neck; riding his hands. His fully erect member pressed against my stomach; and his fingers continued their assault on my tender core.

I moved my hand in front of me and grabbed it, slowly beginning to pump him – making him moan in response; and press his forehead to my shoulder. We moved together for a while; pleasuring each other; the sound of the water splashing against the sides of the tub rhythmically.

A familiar tingling warmth began to radiate from my vagina. “Geralt, you’re making me… ah!”, I breathed. “Not yet!”, he said; removed his fingers from me, and pried my hand from his penis. “I want to look at you first. Stand up”, he demanded.

My legs shaking; I stood up in front of him, my feet between his spread legs – careful not to step on or kick that most valued thing on his body, that I wanted nothing more than to have inside me. I stood there – shivering from the wetness of my skin, and the still unfulfilled desire burning in me. He looked me up and down with hazy eyes. “A sight”, he smiled. I flushed red.

He leant forward, looking me in the eyes; and grabbed a hold of my butt-cheeks; pulling me towards his face. His eyes were feral; and he put his lips to my sensitive folds; kissing my nub gently. His tongue searched my lips for my entrance; and his hands left my cheeks for a second, to make me spread my legs a little, giving him better access.

Hands back where they’d been; he then licked me from my entrance to my clit, giving it a nibble with his lips. He was careful to avoid using his teeth; making the feeling soft and gentle; in contrast to his harsh hold on my behind – one that was sure to leave marks.

He moaned, and flicked his tongue over the little bundle of nerves between my legs. The warm feeling from inside began spreading again, and my legs began shaking. I grabbed a hold of the back of his head; which seemed to give him the impression that I wanted him to continue – which I did. The problem was that I could hardly stand on my feet anymore, from the loss of control I was feeling over my body.

“G-going to fall”, I stammered; and he finally pulled back. “That much?”, he wondered. I bit my lips, and nodded. “Hhmm”, he groaned, and let go of my cheeks. “Bed”, he concluded, and stood up.

My mouth was agape from the full sight of him again. Muscled toned torso, thighs like logs, and arms strong enough to wrestle a werewolf. The scars on his body didn’t take away from the beauty of his figure – if anything, they enhanced the sight of him; making him look like… well, what he was. A brutal, dangerous man – witcher – who could snap me in half, should he wish to. At the same time, his earnest face, and his lust-blown eyes; and the warmth I knew lived in his heart somewhere; made me trust this man with my life, my body – and, by Gods, my heart!

I looked down, my eyes resting on his length and – fuck! – girth. I knew I could take him. At least I knew I wanted to, with every inch of my being. Catching on to what I was thinking, he chuckled, seeming almost embarrassed. “If you want to sketch a picture of it, let me know later; but right now, I’d like to get you to bed”. I chuckled in response.

Witch a sudden movement, I was in his arms again, straddling his waist. He held on to me with one hand; strong enough to carry me like that. His other hand slid my hair behind my ear, so he could kiss my cheek. His hardness was standing at attention; sliding against my folds as I hung there, almost entering me in the process. I giggled at the feeling. “Amused, are we?”, he chided. I jerked my hips, rubbing myself against his tip; and he growled in response. “Impatient little frog”, he said gruffly.

He stepped out of the tub; and walked us to the bed, depositing me on it. Standing over me as I lay there – arms down my sides, knees slightly spread – he looked at me for what seemed like an eternity. I covered my breasts and privates with my arms and hands. “What was that about making a sketch?”, I teased. He grinned at me. “I’m just making a mental image”, he answered, before crawling over my body; and catching my lips with his.

His weight on me was enough to make me soar with desire again. I moaned when I felt his chest-hair tickle my nipples. “Inside!”, I breathed. He grunted. “Still hungry…”, he smirked; and moved down my body again.

“Fuck!”, I yelped, as his tongue met my clit again. He suckled at it, as if nectar would flow from it, if he just continued long enough. He slid his finger into me again, had another join it; and began crooking them; pressing them upwards rhythmically. It wasn’t a minute before my body began to spasm. My whole core burned with delicious fire; and I grasped at the sheets, and dug my fingers into the fabric.

His fingers continued rubbing against that most pleasurable spot inside me, and he made satisfied sounds; as if he was eating a delicious fruit. His fingers began to move faster, drawing me nearer and nearer to my undoing. I could feel my walls begin to clench around his fingers.

I looked down, and his eyes met mine for a second; before I shattered, and everything went white. I let out a long, mewling gasp; lifted my back from the bed – and then; what felt like a pop from inside; made my muscles give; and I fell back on the mattress.

I felt his fingers leave my warmth – one of them flicking against my nub, sending a small jolt through me from overstimulation. He laid next to me; brushing his fingers up and down my torso.

When I could finally open my eyes; is saw a grin plastered across his face. “You… full now?”, I asked, panting. “Not even close”, he growled playfully; and used his leg to spread mine, placing himself between them. His penis was pressed against my entrance. “Ready?”.

I simultaneously shook and nodded my head; unsure what I meant myself. He smiled at me kindly. “We don’t have to do this now”, he said. “It’s a long way to Vizima. We have all the time in the world”.

I felt a pang of something I couldn’t describe. Vizima. Temeria.

Have to take it!

I put both my hands on his bottom, and pushed with all my strength – taking him by surprise – and he slid into me with a roar.

“Move!”, I hissed, as he looked at me in wonder. He did as he was told. His hips began to grind against me; then he pulled back, and thrusted into me again; making me moan out loud from the sensation. He began to move continuously. “You’re still contracting”, he said between thrusts. “Inside”. “Whose fault is that?”, I moaned; and scratched my nails down his back; feeling every welt from every scar in the process.

We heard what sounded like a roster crowing from downstairs; and Geralt frowned. “When he grabbed your thigh, I wanted to rip his arm off!”, he growled; and slammed into me once; bottoming out. He roared like a wild beast; and I mewled in response.

Continuing his thrusts; I latched on to his lips; placing my hand firmly around the back of his neck, so he wouldn’t move his head. I pushed my tongue into his mouth, wrestling his for dominance. I grabbed a hold of his hair, and he returned in kind, making me hiss.

Another rooster crow; with a roar of laughter accompanying it; and the witcher once again slammed into me with a growl; making my stomach jolt from the depth of his thrust.

I pushed at his shoulder. “On top”, I panted; and kissed him passionately one last time, before he rolled onto his back, pulling me with him. He lay with bended knees, making my ass meet his thighs; and I began riding him, leaning against his legs. He grabbed my breasts; massaging them in his hands. I grinned down at him as I moved, and bit my lip. “I want that lip!”, he said, and sat up; grabbing my face, and suckled at his target. I groaned, and pushed at his chest, making him fall back towards the mattress.

He was stronger than me; could have easily kept a hold of me if he wanted – but he enjoyed the game I was playing. I grinned at him again, grinded against his cock; and grasped his firm thigh behind me – doing my best to leave my mark on his skin.

His fingers found my nub again; and he rubbed his thumb against it – his other hand once again holding on to my right breast. He moved under me; trying to match my grinding against him. I was moving back and forth on him; feeling every delicious inch of him inside me. His thumbs continuous stroking of my clit, sent sparks through me, and before long I once again found my high; this time with him inside me. I frantically grinded against him, putting my hands on his chest to be able to lift myself up and down on him. My insides continued to spasm around him; and he groaned and moaned along with me – chasing his own goal. His face almost looked agonized from lust.

As I cried out from pleasure; he suddenly took a hold of my hips, and lifted me up – thrusting into me from bellow frantically. My hands still on his chest, I pushed myself upwards along with him; mewling every time his hips met my ass, and he thrusted back inside me. Overstimulation threatened to take a hold of me; but he kept going -growling, as he dug into my eyes with his own.

“Geralt!...”, I moaned. “I can’t…”. ”You can! Almost…”, he groaned; before hammering me down onto him one final time, and crying out. I felt him twitching inside me, and collapsed onto his chest.

I felt his fingers trace my spine. “You’re… something else”, he chuckled; the sound rumbling in his chest and into the ear I had pressed against it. I laughed, and turned my head to kiss his chest – nibbling at his nipple in the process. “I’m sure I am many things; but all I know is that right now, I am well and fucked”.

He laughed again, and pulled me up to his face for a kiss.

---

Thanks for reading.

Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list.

- no lady

[eerythingisshaka]

Ride

[Rio x Reader]

Word Count: 3.2k

“Alright, alright party people!  Coming to the stage now is your girl, Candiiii!”  

DJ Thundercat announces a dancer to the stage who sends the house into a frenzy.  Lights dance across her body giving you mere snapshots of what she had going on before the glowing red spotlight revealed her deviant frame. The deep tones of her skin  set a perfect backdrop for the light to catch.  Her smile looked like fangs as she snaked around the stage, eyeing the crowd through the hordes of money raining in front of her.  She shakes her Diana Ross-esque hair around to rev up the crowd even more.

You carry your drink tray back to the bar and lean back, enjoying the view.

“She’s  a fucking sight, ain’t she?”  The bartender, Jules says to you while popping open a can of Coke.

“Always.  I don’t know how she does it every single time…”  your voice trails as she climbs the pole, leaning back into a move called the Eye Opener.  A guy in the front row looks like he wants to eat his chair, he’s so enraptured.

“Practice and passion is all it takes.  And when your money is up, a good doctor doesn’t hurt,”  Jules says before tapping your shoulder.  “You know a drop is going down tonight.”

“Really?”  you say with worry.  “Is it the same guy as before or someone else?”

“Someone new.  He may be working with the guy from before but since he got his job back as a cop he has to keep his nose a little cleaner.”

You snort.  “Yeah right.  So what is this guy's deal?”

Jules leans closer to you.  “So you know Aviator?  Last I heard, he is behind on some payments, plural!  How he is still breathing is anybody’s guess but some dude named Rio is coming in with his crew to set up a payment plan.”

“Well that’s nice...right?”  

Jules looks at you like you shat an egg.  “Are you kidding me?  That’s just code for curtains.  Sleeping with the fishes.  Giving him a Colombian necktie.  That’s why I’m telling you in case something big goes down.  Get your ass far away from the action as possible.”

You thank Jules as she sets a couple drinks on your tray for you to serve.  You adjust your red fishnet stocking rolling down your thigh and head over to table 8. 

“Thanks honey.”  One middle aged balding man says, holding out a $10 bill.

You smile nice and wide and take hold of the bill, but he won’t let go.

“Does this get me to see a little of what those cups are holding in honey?”  He palms your breast over your pleather cups before you could even clapback.  So instead you clapped the back of his shiny noggin.

With the $10 in your possession, you push in down your cleavage.  “If you like it rough, just ask.  But if you like it hard, try again.  If swallowing glass is your kink.”   His partner applauds, laughing at his friends mishap.

You briskly walk away, heart pounding in your chest.  You hate confrontation, but you refuse to be walked over in this business.  Certainly not by some cheap regular who tips to get his ass beat by women.  

You notice some figures entering in your peripheral.  The front is too dark to see but there are several heads standing by which you find odd.  

You find Jules for another drink order.  “Hey, do you recognize those guys?”

Jules squints at them as they come forward.  A stray light finds the face of one in the middle.

“Shit.  I think that’s him.  Rio.”  

You look over but Jules pinches you.  “Don’t call attention to yourself!  Be stealthy about it.”  She sets two more Cokes on your tray and shoos you away.  

You walk more carefully than you regularly do, nervous about the new guests.  You set the drinks down for the patrons who thank you and send you off.  When you turn around you almost bump into a figure.

“Shit, sorry,” you say before freezing in place.  This Latino dude with a neck tattoo peers at you like he was expecting you.  

“No, it’s no problem.  Excuse me will suffice.”  His voice sounds like when you strained your voice at a concert the previous night, raspy and low..  You wait a minute for him to laugh or smile to let you know he is joking but enough time passed to tell you that wasn’t the case.

“Well...excuse…”  You couldn’t bring yourself to the end of that phrase as you turned to walk away.  Is this fool joking?

“You didn’t take my drink order, Ms. Waitress,” he calls out to you.  Amazingly his low, gruff voice is very distinct over Megan thee Stallion playing in the background.

You walk up to him, looking him straight in his eyes.  You can’t lie that it is impressive how his eyes trained on your never wavered elsewhere.  Especially in a skin tight strapless one piece that hugged every curve like a straight jacket, how could he be so focused on a drink?

“Sure what can I get you?” you ask sharply.

“Don’t you need a pen and paper?”  He asks.

“I’ll remember it,”  you say with a slight slip of attitude.

His smile somehow does not break his stone glare.  It actually warms his features like a hearth in the dead of winter.  He must’ve been adorable as a child, you thought.  That smile would make anyone spoil him.

“I’ll make it easy for you then.   Get me and partners some top shelf whiskey, straight.  Matter of fact, bring the bottle and some shot glasses.”  

“We don’t serve alcohol, only Coke products.  Where will you be sitting?”  you ask, mouth turning dry.

He walks beside you, stopping just inches from your ear.  “Bring it to VIP.”

You let out a heavy breath when his crew deserts you and head for Jules at the bar who is steaming.

“What did I say?”  she hisses.

“I know!  But he walked up on me!  Look, he asked for alcohol.  A bottle of whiskey for shots.  What the hell do I do?”

Jules reaches under the counter, pulling out a brand new bottle of Johnny Walker and some clean shot glasses.

“For VIP we do, we just don’t advertise.  And he is as VIP as it gets.  Don’t do anything stupid.  Girls have come out of their having done shit they couldn’t even talk to God about.”

Your heart dips at the thought of what could happen and your usually steady hands tremble under the weight of the bottle and glasses balancing on your tray.  The velvet rope in front of the heavy curtains that lead to VIP is unlatched by a bodyguard who doesn’t even look at you: stoic as the Queen’s royal guard.you push open the curtain and see Rio sitting on the purple lounge couch, legs spread and posture relaxed.  Everyone is quiet.

He looks at you, and only you.  “There she is.  Thanks for pulling this favor for me Ms. Waitress.”  

He motions you over to him and you obey, laying the tray down on the glass table in front of him.

“Would you mind pouring it for me?  My wrist ain’t what it used to be and that bottle is pretty heavy,” he says, rubbing it for emphasis.

He doesn’t come off as weak in any sense of the word, but you oblige his request.  You give him a small smile and crack open the seal, filling the room with the glug of the bottle filling five shot glasses.

“You accept tips, right?”  He asks, reaching into his pocket to pull out a roll of bills.

You stand there with your hands folded in front of you trying not to stare.  “Well, if it’s offered.”

He nods slowly pulling a couple hundreds off.  “I’ll give you this if you take these shots with me.”

He lays down the money on the tray and looks up at you waiting.  You stutter anxiously.

“I-I thought you and-and your crew were drinking?”  

“If we were, we would.  But I like to keep them sober on the clock, so I figured we could indulge.”  He picks up a glass of the brown liquor.  “Sit down for me.”

You do so hesitantly, keeping mind to leave space between you and him.  He picks up a glass and hands it to you.

“I...don’t hold my liquor well,”  you confess.

“I don’t mind.”  He lifts the glass to his lips, knocking his head back swiftly and firmly sets the emptied shot on the table.

“Do I have a choice here?  We are shorthanded out there,” you lied, trying to see if any mercy was in his heart but he just stares.  You can see his jaw tighten over your resistance, fist balling on the couch.  Could he tell this wasn’t truthful?  Whatever it took to get out of there, you had to do.  The alcohol rushes down your throat a little too fast and although it was smooth, your windpipe just doesn’t agree with liquid going in it.  You go into a mad coughing fit and slam the glass down.  

“Shit, you aren’t good with alcohol for real,”  Rio smiles again, making you relax a bit that he is satisfied.

Rio bobs his head to the music bumping faintly in the background.  “You like this song?”

You shrug.  “It’s cool.”

“You can dance if you want to.  I don’t mind,” Rio leans back to wait for your answer.  You think back to Jules and what Rio can do to people who offends him, but you decide to test something out.

“That’s gotta be an extra $300 on top of that.”  You point at the money, anticipating his reaction.  

Rio smirks.  “$200 for a dance and $300 is you take another shot with me.”

You didn’t hesitate for the drink now, picking it up confidently and holding it up to him for a toast.  He takes his, knocking it against yours with a strong tink.  You down the shot this time without mishap and get ready to move.  

You stand up with your legs widened, letting your hips sway in front of him for a good ass tease, looking back to check on him checking you.  He still only looks at your face.

“You know this outfit isn’t for modesty,”  you say turning to dip low in a squat while holding onto his knees, sliding your hands up his thighs.

He looks cool as ever with a half naked woman climbing on top of his lap.  “I get the most out of someone when they look me straight in my eyes.”

You straddle his lap, feeling his chest, gripping his shoulders.  You work your hips on him slowly.

“Shows honesty.  I like that.”  You play with his ear, feeling his muscle twinge from being ticklish there. 

He shrugs.  “Honest or not, I can tell when I’m being lied to.  Like if someone is trying to screw me or screw with me.”  His arms rest on the back of the couch instead of on your body, making you feel cold and awkward.

“Is that why you’re here?  To meet a dishonest man.”  You whisper in his ear, which must be his thing as you feel some extra friction beneath you rising.  

Rio ignores you.  “You got one more shot left for the $500.”

You shake your head.  “You can have it.  You can touch me too, you know.  Perks of VIP.”  You slide your hand down his bicep to pull his arm around you but he pulls back.

“Take the shot.”  He says firmly.  You stop your dance, reaching for the glass and tipping it back.  You set it down haphazardly with a clatter, running our hands down his chest again.  You weren’t at all phased by his tone, if anything it excites you, makes you clench a little.  The heaviness of intoxication is setting in and you feel loose staring into his eyes.  Your fingers graze his beard, his neck, summoning you to his cologne, maybe he will let you taste him there...

“Rio!  Enjoying the sights I see!”

The new voice snaps you out of your mode as you fly off his lap to the side of him.

“Aviator.  Nice of you to fly in.”  Rio says.  He looks at you and motions his finger for you to come closer.  You do a mscooch, however your leg pulled over his lap is an added touch you don’t expect.

Aviator guffaws.  “Good one!  I was gonna offer you a drink but I see you got one so no need.  On the house, of course.”

“Let’s cut to the chase, shall we?  I haven’t seen you since November,”  Rio says, massaging your leg lightly, like you’re his pet.

“Well the business is slower in the cold months so hey what can you do.”

“The weather?  You think that’s an excuse here?  Do you even own one of them anorak jackets or something?”  Rio asks you as you shake your head no instantly.  You can feel his anger mounting on your leg as his fingers dig deeper in your skin.

“Still, it’s holidays and shit.  Look we can talk about this, but let’s lose the audience, ok?  Send your guys back and let the girl work.”

“She is working, very well might I add.  So you must think I’m dumb.”

Aviator pauses, looking around the room.  “I said we can talk about this privately.  I have a plan.  You, go bus some tables.”

“Get my money Aviator.  You’re overdue.”  He looked bored by this back and forth and ready to end it.  Your body temperature drops when he looks like this.  

Aviator stood there aghast.  “You’re new here, so let me tell you something.  You’re not going to embarrass me like this in front of my employees.  Get your ass up!”  Aviator grabs you by the arm harshly, you twist your ankle trying to keep up, falling to your knees.

You hear the sound of a gun cock as your ankle throbs 

“Aviator, you embarrassed yourself by not paying me.  You’re not the first nor will you be the last owner here so take a guess on what you’re about to do.”

You look up to see Aviator’s hands up and a Glock to his chest.  

“Help Ms. Waitress here up and take her to my car so we can have that privacy you want.”

You try to get up yourself but Aviator already has you.  “Rio, I still have my shift.”

“Aviator’s got you covered, right Avi?”

Aviator curses under his breath before agreeing out loud.  You limp with him out to the Escalade waiting in the alley.  You get in without saying a word as you watch Aviator walk back in, flanked by two of Rio’s goons.  You lean back, elevating your foot on an arm rest until Rio comes out.  When he gets in he tells the driver where to go, looking at you then your ankle. 

“We gotta put ice on that soon.”  Rio says nonchalantly, laying his arm behind your head.. 

“What happened to Aviator?”  You ask quietly.

Rio looks you over.  “You don’t have to worry about that.  Not your problem”

You stare at the city passing you all by, getting dizzy from the motion and drinks earlier, you see Rio once more looking at your body.  

“You have my $500?”  You ask earnestly.  “I didn’t pick it up back there.”

Rio smirks, looking out his window.  “This courtesy ride is nice, right?”

“I didn’t tell you where I lived.”

“Do you wanna go home?”  He asks, piercing his gaze into you.  They feel like they are daring you to say yes, go away, danger ahead and reroute.

“No.  Is it because I didn’t finish the dance?  Cuz that wasn’t my fault.”

“Oh yeah, about that.  I was offering you an exit there.  Go out on the floor, do what you gotta do but the lap dance was very nice.”

You laugh out loud.  “What?!  You didn’t tell me to stop!  What’s wrong with you, so I did that for nothing?”

Rio licks his lips examining you.  “Not for nothing.  You’re wilder than I thought, and I don’t think that’s the whiskey.”

You cross your arms in a huff.  “I wanted the money.  And of course you never acted against it so…”

Rio wags a finger at you.  “I appreciate that.  Going for what you want.  You got a business head on you.  I like that.”

The ride grows quiet as you survey this man.  He acts like an OG despite his age, running a tight operation with his goons.  Even in this car not knowing where you are going after he pulls a gun on your boss, you feel safe with him beside you.  But you had to know what made him tick.

You pull yourself on top of him, kissing him needily, tearing at his neck for his shirt button.

Rio talks through your kisses, gripping your curls in his hands.  “Is this what whiskey does to you?”

You lean back, opening his shirt.  “I want my money.  And if I have to teach you to give it to me, I will.”

Rio’s hands feel across your back and ass and you shiver at the sensation.  “I admit, I am a little hardheaded.”

“I’m very very strong willed”  You lock onto his mouth once more, tasting the liquor you both shared, running your hands along the front of his pants to find the zipper.  It felt so right as his hands guided your hips along his lap, pushing you on your back across the seat.

------

The next morning you wake up in a sea of blankets and pillows, head throbbing as you stare at the late morning sun.

“You get some rest, Ms. Waitress?”  Rio stands at the doorway of the bedroom with his hands in his pockets.

You try to sit up but your head won’t stop rolling.  “God I feel awful.”

“You look it too.”  Rio says, walking up to your side of the bed.  “Wore me out last night.”

You keep the sheets close to your naked chest with regret.  “I can’t believe this.  Did we…”

Rio pauses a little too long before saying,  “Nah, you complained you were dizzy and puked all over my backseat.  Taking your clothes was just part of the clean up.  Had to dock that from your pay unfortunately but got some daytime looks over there if you need.”  Rio points to a tshirt and sweats laying on a chair.

You weren’t about to argue with a gangster over money in his own house, especially if you fucked up his car.  “Thanks, I’ll get ready to go immediately.”

“Ah don’t sweat it.  Oh, and your cut is in the sweatpants pocket.  Hope you get something nice with it.”  

“Wait, did you...kill him?”

He cocks his head to the side.  “Who?” Walking towards the door he says one more thing.  “And, I would keep in touch if I were you.  There’s more where that came from if you’re willing to go after what you want full time.  I’ll see you around.”

When Rio leaves, you get up to put on the shirt and pants, reaching into the pocket.  Magically your $500 became $5,000.  You let out some choice curse words as you thumbed through the bills, thinking back on last night.  Being on your best behavior never paid this good.  And Rio piqued your curiosity enough to see what being bad felt like.

Masterlist

Tag

@chaneajoyyy​

[libidomechanica]

If Master for centure,

The least woman’s gone. I doubt she     wand of danced; but not did lives of theology, exceeding     there I behold there should fire, being proud. Be once about     every move! Permit’s place I am some coquettish,     i’ve no more here to only

thee, Give up and gums. Let her     will not the pious wife was such had little many modern     phrase our which in me things rush real in a banks unseen,     and operas intent and no morning eyes of delicate     at a’? Of blood the utmost

straw and famous to blemish     scope, the door is steps of the Soul waves young, I’m a beast down     he threate the gale, and no substance of knows whether wherein,     then, care: we are windows run! Two pail of ording die, and     passive cup, the woes of

sing: his years. But not be difference.     Entirely by that I intessenger trying for looks     naught her passions went round his can I favours when she handsome     ye their earth, but Juan indeed soul iudging faith your bodies,     and tears the heart, the

people, and every the virtues     nothing quite roses the lips in all my love is gold. Robin     shure window-seat, if I have pass’d, desired, and steam     float al the road when the Desert eyes, nor commit a mossy     hairs, and very cold

have alone, hooked blazon of the     blossoms lay, an’ ken years the flowery gentlement the     though manners on every Christ form good belly sake one     edition, halls the wept, while they mocked among birds force. Who know—     But Donna Inez now

how I meet flesh. For who watch hints     for said not for—that they please me, as we pilchards, nobody     to purse. Seal that am I a beauty, midnights are,     and when I pour minutes crazed obligingly we had not     there flesh the Chaplaining

then two poor having cell, some show     th’ Angels watches thoughts, ne wit become arose, of     whittle Julia did note where thousand the dreary dayly-     vexing wife is not a living air, lest heap’d up and the     cannot recall still, your

eccho ring. Her watcheth no double.     Upon Salámán did treasure gave from joy was between     you miss’d wine and where were now. It pushed day; who was Julia’s     loves in a man and gilds its turn the breeding; he ones     and feelings, this Handsome

despising from myself, and then     outrageous. For the moon back at the soul, but he was forc’d     by the ruffian’s defend again; I heart which had occasion,     delicate, or, in the quite ready fortune of delights,     nor mistress was touching

me and to knows not be dumb     that she knew to solely at his head, until some back smothers     and shadows! If Master for centure, love, the voice a     drunken it the double every higher; or eloquence     of more lusty days’ wonder

tongues, the balm of half forget,     or Mrs. I bake. As he but dead, it see, therefore no     sleep little! All the wind we travel threater as ye breast     without a dreamy urn; an’ she has gotten husting all     other’s niece … Herodias,

I ween in the dark old King sunk     in her in the shrieking window passe, to they had caught     of sacred Altare unworthy own mine; ’ yet, fair, and sing,     that arm-chair, I’m a mortal Beauty of the object to-     day. But applaud and in

guest look back again. His be mine     own where you find thee: which seem’d my home the pride than a sort     of rocks, seeing throught; they are whan the nuns! The maid’s ware? But     ice-gravid, now forth in which would now she cock crew, and pray     haue be once I have saint

or lull’d t’ others did then     Remember head, then your most grieve a young, I’m a beauties above,     human love perplext, Virgil’s in New York, and prayer,     with thee wrong, and dumb: but aye his face loue and bean, her the     wind even this; thou are!

He knew should have a fined walls and     all that under a pails. By than one like a Crescending     out at all the science brass, round, an’ ken ye how meadows!     The leaves of Loving their optics with was a Jew to grace,     lyke golden make the gold.

[the-karma-cafe]

Jealous of a Cat | Levi Ackerman

a/n: 

me: hope writing shitty levi fanfiction every night doesnt become a habit

also me: *sees short middle-aged angry man* awooga

“Oh!” I gasped, breaking away from my walk with Captain Levi. A cat was curled up on the roof of a nearby house, basking in the sunlight. My 3DMG propelled me up and through the air. I landed on the roof lightly, taking care not to startle the cat. “Aww, lookit you!” I cooed, crouching and holding out a hand.

The cat yawned awake and stared at my hand through slitted eyes. I chuckled. “Don’t gimme that look I know you’re just a sweetheart.” He pushed up from his nap, stretching lazily. He eyed my hand for a beat before padding over and giving it a good sniff or two. Satisfied, he rubbed his cheek against my hand.

I squealed in delight. “You’re so sweet! How do you feel about coming home with me, hm?”

“What’s going on up there?” Levi’s bored voice rang out from the street below. I scooped up the cat easily and ran to the edge of the roof. His eyes fell on the cat and he scowled. “If I find cat hair in my office I’m killing it.”

I jumped down from the roof, careful not to jostle the cat too much. He sat contentedly in my arms, nuzzling my neck every now and then and filling my left ear with a steady purr. I grinned toothily at the captain. “Isn’t he adorable?”

Levi rolled his eyes. “Smug fucker looks about ready to shit on my desk.”

I gasped, covering the cat’s ears with one hand. “Captain! Avoid using such strong language around my impressionable son!”

“Tch.”

~

I let him roam around the base, much to Levi’s chagrin. It wasn’t uncommon to find the captain with a dustpan and a broom, swearing under his breath as he swept up cat hair. 

Hanji strutted into the dining hall, holding the cat aloft. “Whose child is this!” They bellowed.

I raised my hand sheepishly. “Sorry.”

They shook their head and walked over, the little man tucked under their arm. “Nonsense! He’s a delight. Does he have a name yet?” Their eyes sparkled.

I smiled and shook my head, taking him from them. “Would you do the honors?”

Hanji puffed their chest. “Of course!” They pointed their finger regally at the cat in my lap. He squinted up at them. “I hereby dub thee.. Bean Jr.!”

The table applauded Bean Jr’s naming ceremony. I laughed, playing with his little paws.

“You’re gonna give it a name too?” Someone sighed behind us. I turned to see Captain Levi, his usual bored expression on his face. Actually, he looked a little disgusted.

I shook my head. “Come now, Captain, he’s not an it.” I shuffled in my seat, turning to face him. I smiled down at Bean Jr. “Say hello to Captain Levi!” 

I looked back up and made one of the cat’s little paws wave at our captain, giggling at the way his face contorted in disgust. “Hi, Captain!” I altered my voice to make it squeakier. “I’m Bean Jr., your biggest fan! Don’t you wanna come over and give me lots of pets and cuddles? Of course you do! I’m more than happy to-“

“I’ve heard enough.” Levi cut me off, turning to leave. I smiled over at my giggling comrades.

~

Bean Jr. batted at the feather in my hand and I laughed, bringing it up higher than before. A knock on my door startled me into dropping it. “Yeah?” I called out.

The door cracked open to reveal my Captain. “You didn’t come to the wall?”

“Oh!” I said. Captain Levi and I had taken to walks on the wall to talk about the latest news and plans for the future. As of late, everything’s been about Eren and his newfound ability. 

I didn’t think he’d care if I didn’t show up. I smiled sheepishly. “Ah, sorry, guess I got a little caught up with Bean Jr.” The cat hopped onto my bed, nuzzling against my hand.

Levi’s eyebrow twitched as he pinned a murderous look at the cat. “Of course.” He nodded politely and closed the door. I frowned.

~

Levi plopped down across from me at breakfast, narrowing his eyes at the cat in my lap. He looked more fatigued than usual. “You didn’t come to my office last night. Cat matters to attend to?” I usually went to Levi’s office after-hours to help him out with his piles of paperwork.

But I wasn’t ever much help? I spent most of the time chattering away. I thought, if anything, he’d be glad to get a break.

I bit my lip. “Ah, you’d be right. Sorry?”

He grunted and picked at his meal.

~

This went on for a bit longer. Blowing off Levi to hang out with my cat. I didn’t mean to, really. Bean Jr. was just so charming and cute!

I cooed at his exposed belly. “Aww, you’re so soft and sweet. Aren’t you just the cutes-“

My door slammed open. “No more.” An authoritative voice rang out. I turned to see Levi glaring darkly at the cat.

I frowned. “No more what? Is something wrong, Captain?”

He shook his head and marched forward. He grabbed Bean Jr. by the scruff and deposited him outside of the room, closing it to prevent the feline from coming in. He puffed his chest proudly.

I quirked up a brow. “Is there a reason you’ve separated me from my son?”

Levi turned and scowled at me. “You’ve been spending far too much time with it.”

Huh?

Understanding rippled through my brain. I smothered a grin. “Levi, are you… jealous?”

His eyes widened a fraction. “Are you stupid? Jealous of a cat? Fuck no.”

I nodded solemnly. “Of course.” I stood, walking over to him. “Then you don’t mind if I let him back in?”

His gaze hardened. “I’m sure it’s fucked off by now.”

I sighed sadly. “You’re probably right… He has taken a liking to Hanji lately..”

Levi nodded. “All the more reason to let them have it.”

“But what will I do with myself if I don’t have Bean Jr.?”

“You’ll come to my office as usual.” He turned to leave the room, but paused. “..I made tea.”

~

We worked quietly in his office. I sighed, setting down my pen. I plucked up my teacup and brought it to my lips, leaning back to gaze at the man across from me. His brow was furrowed as he jotted something down on the paper in front of him. I giggled slightly. Levi blinked, his features smoothing as he glanced up at me. “What?”

“I’m still wrapping my head around you being jealous of a cat.”

He pursed his lips. “I was not.” I hummed teasingly. He pushed up from his seat. “I wasn’t!”

I nodded, taking a sip. “Of course you weren’t.” I winked at him. “That’d be silly.”

Soft paws padded on the door. My eyes lit up. “Bean Jr.!” I set down my teacup and got up to let in my son.

“Oh no you don’t.” Levi was up in a flash, his hand wrapping around my wrist and tugging me back. I yelped in surprise, tumbling into his chest. His lips met mine before I could say anything. I froze in surprise.

My eyes fluttered close and I melted against him, relishing in his warmth. He relaxed his grip, moving his arms around my waist to pull me closer. He tasted faintly sweet. I pushed into him, wanting to taste more. 

I had suspected he had feelings for me, but never believed he’d act on them. Thanks, Bean Jr. I sighed happily into Levi’s mouth, my hands smoothing up his chest.

The door opened. “Bean Jr. wanted to come in- oh!” Hanji’s voice tapered off in surprise. I pulled away from Levi, but he held onto me.

He snarled over my shoulder at the scientist. “Get out. And take that damn cat with you.” The door closed.

I laughed lightly at his murder face. My finger lazily traced circles on his chest. “You’re right. Humanity’s Strongest would never be jealous of a cat.”

He burrowed his head into my neck. “Shut up.” His breath tickled my skin and I laughed again.

a/n: i have NOT watched enough attack on titan to get levi’s character right but am i gonna watch more to familiarize myself ? also no *opens another levi x reader masterlist*

[atmilliways]

On the 8th day of Dethmas this writer gives to thee…

Dec 20- UGLY SWEATERS!

Magnus has this great idea for a mini-revenge, trust him.

Somehow this turned out almost... wholesome? But also kinda foreshadowing of some oh the things that happen in DSR. Make of that what you will.

Also heavily inspired by this classic. 

~

Revenge Is a Dish Best Served Ugly

“Trust me,” Magnus had said. 

“We can’t make our big move yet, so let’s at least fuck with them a little,” Magnus had said. 

“This’ll really make them suffer,” Magnus had said. 

The assassin really shouldn’t have listened to him. It was a ludicrous plan, an absurd waste of his talents of espionage and infiltration to get the packages delivered, and there hadn’t even been a good opportunity to assault, abduct, and torture a Klokateer for information. The whole thing was so stupid that clearly, when it came to the ‘big move,’ Magnus should merely be allowed to think he was in charge of planning. 

But until then, it was still something to do. 

This plan had also relied heavily on Magnus’ ability to forge Offdensen’s handwriting, which he insisted he was a pro at even after all these years. The assassin doubted that—but then, Dethklok weren’t the sharpest tools in the shed. If packages showed up at the last moment before an important public appearance with instructions from their manager that the contents must be worn for said appearance, there was a decent chance they would do it. 

So that’s how the assassin found himself crammed on the disused couch in front of the tv in the back of his lair, cracking open a couple of beers with his teeth for himself and a human scarecrow who didn’t know how to button a damn shirt. 

“To revenge,” Magnus crowed, clinking the tops of their bottles together before taking a swig. 

You’re so stupid, the assassin thought, but merely grunted and drank his own beer. He had to admit, reluctantly, that Magnus’ enthusiasm was a little infectious. Not that he cared, but if it did indeed work then there would at least be the satisfaction of a job well done. 

On screen, the MCs of whatever the hell award show this was had just finished up a rambling introduction speech. They were both dressed in black and white formal wear, very clean-cut and respectable. 

The curtain behind them rose; the applauding, shouting crowd suddenly went silent from shock, and Magnus whooped loudly at the sight of all five band members wearing some of the most god-awful ugly Christmas sweaters ever to exist. 

“Look at that one,” Magnus said, elbowing the assassin’s arm and pointing eagerly. “Look at the one on Explosion, that stupid douchebag! It’s got a 3D reindeer coming out the front and the back, and it lights up! He looks like a fucking idiot! Yeah, that’s right, you’re an idiot, I said it! That’s what you get for punching my eye out, you bastard!”

It was irritating, but god, it was kind of amusing to watch the other man get all worked up about something so fundamentally pointless. The crowd was booing the fundamentally un-brutal attire, and Magnus bounced against him on the couch every time another crowd-hurled insult was discernible in the audio. Aside from causing grievous bodily harm, this was more human contact than the assassin had experienced in years. Since before his brother had been murdered by the fucknuts getting booed off the stage right now. 

“Hey big guy, what do you think?” Magnus was leaning across into his personal space to wave a hand in front of his face, searching for some sort of reaction besides the default glower. “Is this fucking hilarious or what?!”

Instinctively, the assassin snatched at the wrist invading his bubble and jerked so hard that Magnus dropped his beer with a crash of breaking glass and fell across the larger man’s lap with a grunt. Glaring down at him, the assassin squeezed until he felt bones shift slightly under his fingers. 

“Get out of my fucking face,” he growled. 

Magnus winced a smile up at him. “You know, you look like a lot less of a freaky motherfucker without that mask on, even with all the scars and shit.”

That took the assassin by surprise, so much so that he lessened (but didn’t release) his grip. “. . . What.”

“It’s badass, man. If I had scars like that, I’d show ‘em off.”

The assassin’s eyes narrowed. “Like you show off your eye?”

“Yeah. Why not?”

He yanked Magnus further across his chest and tapped on his chest with a heavy finger, touching skin and chest hair through the open shirt. “So if I gave you a scar here—” he scraped a ragged nail over his sternum on that skinny chest, leaving a red trail “—you’d still wear your shirt open all the time like a tool?”

“Like a cool tool,” Magnus shot back, grinning wolfishly. 

The assassin simply had no words for how much of a moron Magnus sounded like, saying that. It was flat-out incorrect, because only the actual inflicting of future scars was cool—that parting of flesh, the spray and ooze of blood striving to harden into a scab. 

Plus, fresh scars sunburned like a bitch. 

Magnus took advantage of his pause by squirming around to sit sideways on his lap, snag the assassin’s beer that had been shoved between the couch cushions to keep from spilling, and take a big swig from it. His bony ass dug into the assassin’s thighs with just the right amount of irritating discomfort. On the TV, the booing from the tv had stopped because the show had gone to a commercial. 

The assassin glanced down, grimaced, and asked, “Do you have a fucking boner over ugly Christmas sweaters, or the idea of me cutting you?” 

“Yes,” Magnus said. 

“. . . You are painfully stupid,” the assassin grumbled. “Get your shirt the rest of the way off and take off your pants before I snap your neck.”

After all, it was a while before they could make their big move against Dethklok. In the meantime, might as well find something to do.