#I started writing before I could physically WRITE.

[prettydaisygirl]

Hiii, this is the last one!

so, we have fake dating, rommate, athlete, pirate, wedding, husband, even royal James, but we don't have a Proposal AU with James, then what about a bouquet of 🌼, with the prompt "i never thought i'd feel this kind of happiness"

also this is the last day of your celebration, so i wanted to thank you for all the work you have done, your writing it's so good, and i hope you keep doing what you like and receiving the best, i send a lot of luck and happiness! 🩷

hellooooo, my love! Yes this IS the last one!! Thank you so much for celebrating with me and being such a big joy! I appreciate having you here, and I really hope you enjoy this one <3

🌼 daisy (innocence, loyalty, pure love): pick a character and an AU from the lists above & a prompt from this list and I will write a <500 word drabble

daisy's 500 follower celebration masterlist

James Potter, proposal, and "I never thought I'd feel this kind of happiness."

cw: fem!reader, james being nervous, reader wears a dress

°˖✧✿✧˖°

James’ hands are shaking. He’s so nervous he thinks he might throw up.

The ring weighs a million pounds in his pocket, the box burning into his skin. He’s had it for months (he bought it after your first date), and it has been buried at the back of his sock drawer ever since then. He’s had dozens of sleepless nights thinking about this exact moment, and now that it’s here, all he can think about is what might happen if you say no.

Not that he thinks you’ll say no. In fact, you’ve openly told him that you’ll accept when he decides to propose. He’s more worried that you won’t like what he has planned. Not that he really thinks you won’t. He doesn’t know, his emotions are all over the place and he’s very stressed out.

You aren’t, though. You’re calm, and sweet, and beautiful as always. Holding his hand as the two of you walk through the gardens he’s picked. You look gorgeous, James had suggested you wear this specific dress. He didn’t tell you why, obviously, but he thinks you’re probably suspicious.

Or you aren’t, which is why you look completely normal while James feels like his insides are at war with each other. He knows his hand is sweating where his palm touches your own and he feels the exact same way he did on your first date.

“James,” Your voice catches his attention. When he looks at you, his heart literally stops. He can’t help but admire how beautiful you are. “Are you alright?”

It takes him a moment before he registers your question, and then he’s stuttering over his words trying to answer. “Oh, uh- Yes! I’m- I’m great!” 

You’re not convinced. He’s not surprised. You raise an eyebrow at him and he finds he really can’t hold it together. 

“You know I really love you, right?” His voice is higher than it should be, just a bit shaky. His plans go out the window.

“James.” You stop. You look at him. 

“I never thought I’d feel this kind of happiness. You make me so happy.”

“James.” Your eyes widen. You know. He knows you know, and his face flushes. He starts to recite what he’s memorized, quickly and with no breaths, like he physically can’t contain it. 

“The first time I laid eyes on you, I knew you were the girl I was going to marry. When you’re with me, I wish time could stop so I could spend an eternity with you. I want to spend the rest of my life making you happy, if you’ll let me? And- and I got you this ring!” He digs the box out of his pocket. It’s only then that he sees you, eyes wide and glossy with your lips parted. He hesitates for just a second, but finds he can’t keep the words in anymore. He opens the box to show you the ring. It’s stunning, everything you wanted.

“I would be the happiest man in the entire universe if you would agree to be my wife and be Mrs. Potter.”

You blink. Once, twice. Then launch yourself at him, lips on his own. The both of you start laughing into the kiss, and you pull back enough to give him a real answer, though he’ll say your kiss was enough. 

“Yes!”

°˖✧✿✧˖°

© prettydaisygirl

[starm0onlight]

hello ms ma'am kaede !! 💗i hope you've been well. bubble anon here, i just want to say that i absolutely ADORE your layout and your work! may i request, a telemachus x reader angst, where basically they broke up bc lost interest but not feelings for each other, and neither of them wants to reach out but would love to try again? thank uuu <3

—🫧

stitches wounds!

₊˚⊹ ᰔ pairing: Telemachus x reader

₊˚⊹ ᰔ note: im not every good at writing angst but i hope i did well!! also yes i said I'll post it tomorrow but i got excited and finished it.

₊˚⊹ ᰔ warning: none

₊˚⊹ ᰔ content: angst, neglecting, break up, hurt/comfort, crying, apology, Athena and Penelope pushing Telemachus to fix things, happy ending.

🐺- you don't know how everything happened until it did, until it's too late to fix.

🪶- suddenly everything change, you start spending less time together, start talking less to each other, and sometimes not even spending any time with each other.

🐺- and then you two start to argue about the stupidest thing ever and for no reason. you thought it's all was because of the suitors and everything stressing him out, that he was just nervous about everything in the palace.

🪶- but even after his father came back and the suitors were gone, nothing changes, it becomes worse. not even good morning or good night. you barely see his face.

🐺- that when you decide to talk to him about it, that you couldn't be treated like this anymore. and that's when everything fall apart, you two decide to break up and everyone could go to their own path.

🪶- as heart broken as you were you thought it was for the better, that like this you won't feel neglected or ignored that's you'll find someone to actually love. but words were easier than action.

🐺- no matter how much you tired you couldn't forget him, everything seem to remind you of him, even the smallest thing seem to connect to him. but you ignore it, saying it'll all go away, but it never did.

🪶- on Telemachus side things weren't as easy too, he was suffering from his mistake, not only from himself but also his family.

🐺- his mom liked you so much and was devastated when she saw you leave and Telemachus tell her about your break up, she try to talk to him about it. but Telemachus was stubborn.

🪶- he didn't wanna admit his mistake, didn't wanna admit that he lost the only person that ever loved him and cared for him, didn't wanna dmit that he made a mistake her regret so deep but can't fix.

🐺- even athena notice it, how sad and shallow he look, like he just lost his core, his hope. he can't admit it through words but his actions never missed anyone eyes.

"you need to go and talk to her" said athena as she looked down at Telemachus who was laying in his bed, he was tired, not physically but emotionally.

"I'm fine, i don't need to talk to her, she's probably forget about me by now." he said as he rolled in his bed as if he was searching for something, maybe for the presence of his lover. for her warmth in his cold bed.

"look at yourself, you're miserable Telemachus even I can't stand and watch you do this to yourself. you still love her, you're just too stubborn to face it."

her words were true, even Telemachus knew it. but what could he do about it? he already missed up once, he doesn't wanna do it again.

"it's already too late now, it's been weeks. i don't even think she wants to see my face anymore" he said as he sighs deeply burying his face in the soft sheets.

"too late better than never, and there might be still a chance to fix everything. so before it's too late make up your mind." said athena before she turned into her owl form flying out of Telemachus room and away from the palace.

Telemachus just let her words sink in, is there really time to fix things? what if he makes things worse. what if he can't fix anything. what if you already moved on to another person?

after a while of thinking he made up his mind. he's going to take yoy back, he doesn't care if there's already someone else, ge won't let anyone take you from him.

he stands up on his feet and decided to do something about it. he might fuck up but he'll try, for you. for his undying love for you.

🪶- after his talk with athena Telemachus quick went to his mother room, asking her for her advice about what he should do to win your forgiveness.

🐺- Penelope was more than happy to see her son finally come back to his sense and take back what was the best thing in his life. you.

🪶- she tells him about stuff he should do and should say, that he doesn't need a script that his words most be true coming straight from his heart.

🐺- after that Telemachus was more excited now to go and try to fix things, maybe you guys could go back to what you were, before his stupidity ruin everything good hime has.

you were laying down in your bed as tears stormed down your face. no matter how much you try to convince yourself it won't work. you still love him, you still crave him but something inside you forbids you for doing anything about it except crying and asking yourself if there was a way everything could be fixed.

suddenly you heard a knock on your door, it was surprising since no one ever came to visit you. you just stop crying for a little before sighing deeply.

you get out of bed as you fix your clothes and whip your tears making sure they're invisible to whoever comes to see you. you look at the mirror one last time before going to answer the door.

as you opened the door you suddenly were hit by the view of Telemachus sitting on one knee with flowers in his hands, you were too shocked to even make a reaction.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry i was an idiot and ruined everything, I'm sorry I didn't mean for this to happen, i was way too stubborn to see anything or to realized I've ruined the best thing that ever happened to me. i don't deserve your forgiveness, not after what I've done, but please im just asking for another chance, i promise I'll do anything for you. i won't be that idiot and loss you again."

he said way too quickly for you to process, you couldn't even believe the view. Telemachus is here, after all these weeks he came to apologize? something in you tells you to shut the door in his face, but something else tells you to forgive him.

Telemachus had his eyes to the ground all the time, he didn't dare to look at you in the eyes, he couldn't. not after everything he's done.

he only lifted his head when he gears the sounds on your soft crying, his head quickly shot up as he saw you, the love of his love crying as her eyes become red and buffy.

"hey hey.. please don't cry please. i was an idiot and I don't deserve your love but please don't cry.." he said as he quickly stood up putting the flowers aside as his hands went to hold your face, whipping your tears slowly.

"you idiot, you dumb asshole, after all these weeks you came now!" you said almost angrily but you made no move to push him away, matter of fact you got closer leaning more into his touch.

"i know i know, i deserve everything you say about me. i was stubborn and let my pride take the better of me, but i couldn't just stand and see the love of my life slipping through my fingers" he said before trapping you into his arms in warm embrace. the warmth you missed.

"i know I'm late but I'm back now, and I'm asking for another chance to fix everything I've ruined, to build something new with you, are you willing to give me it?" he said as he pulled back enough to look into your eyes.

he has a soft smile on his face and his eyes were full of love and care, then you see him again. the man you fall in love with, the man you swear your life to.

"of course i will you fucking idiot, i could never love anyone but you" you said as you pull him back in your arms, holding him tightly as if he would disappear if you let go. he hold you in just as tight.

"i love you too and don't worry, i promise i won't do it again, athena and my mom would have my head if i did it again" he said sarcastically but he meant every word.

you were happier than ever, maybe the gods decided to give your love another chance and you'd make sure not to miss it up like last time. oh you wouldn't let him go, not again, not ever.

[carmenlikeme]

CHAPTER TWO: OH, WHAT A SIN!

COWBOY LIKE ME: A JACK ABBOT SERIES.

pairing: Jack Abbot x rescuer!reader

summary: After an unexpected storm hits Pittsburgh, the entire city stops. Floodings and destruction everywhere. Jack ends up trapped for two days at PTMC. When he's finally allowed to be outside, he ends up at the frontlines of the disaster, back to his MASH unit days. Abbot works right next to the rescuers, helping them stabilize patients before they reach the hospital. He meets an interesting person amongst the rescuers, and the magnetic pull is too hard to ignore. Will he give in?

OR

Where Jack Abbot meets an eccentric doctor in the middle of a catastrophe, and finds light in one of the darkest places imaginable.

genre: fem! reader (no physical descriptions) romance, slowburn (on paper, speedrun irl), hurt/comfort, breakup, happy ending (?), sprinkled comedy, idk what else, highly medically inaccurate, heavy dialogue for the first chapters.

wc: 2.6k words

warnings: age gap (reader is in her late 20s, jack late 40s), major natural disaster, medical trauma, PTSD, mentions of war and violent situations, graphic depiction of injuries, mentions of COVID and death. Will edit as I write more.

a/n: this is a short transition chapter compared to the next one, I just couldn't get past this scene without feeling stuck, I hope the next one is longer but I also hope u like what I got for u!! and yes, another nod to a song in the title!

you can find the masterlist HERE!

It took him almost twenty minutes to start talking about her to Robby, as soon as he got back from the disaster zone late at night.

They managed to take a couple of minutes for themselves on the roof, standing awkwardly as the huge puddles of water didn’t give them enough room to sit down anywhere. They wouldn’t have, even if they could. The air felt cold on their cheeks, the occasional mist soothing them. Grounding them.

“I met someone,” he whispered, his hands squeezed together. “One of the rescuers.”

Robby understood what he meant immediately. He tilted his head the same way he does when he can’t read the expression on one of his residents. Abbot didn’t look up from the ground; he couldn’t.

“She’s so reckless. I could barely do a physical on her,” he continued.

There was so much he wanted to say about her, but he couldn’t.

“It’s like…” he started, but fell short. “Like I couldn’t get away from her. We barely talked, and I can’t stop thinking about her.”

Finally, he looked up. Robby’s expression was tender, with a hint of amusement, but his lips seemed to hide something; he was holding back a laugh.

“Remember all those years you said love at first sight doesn’t exist?” he asked carefully. Anything more, and he’d burst out laughing. “I think that came to bite you in the ass.”

“Hey, when you met Collins, it was like the revival of Jane Austen. You can’t blame me for saying you were a little too crazy for her,” Jack said, playfully defensive.

Robby laughed and pushed him away.

“This isn’t the same.”

“You’re right, brother. It’s worse.”

“Thought you wouldn’t show up,” Abbot spoke up as he walked into the room.

He already had his gloves on as he approached the gurney, carefully. One hand held a hospital tablet; the other was hidden in his pocket. His steps were measured, as if he were stepping into a wild animal’s cage.

Maybe he was. He didn’t know at this point.

“What can I say? I keep my promises,” she smiled brightly at Jack, the same smile that had made him lose sleep less than twelve hours ago. “It’s not like I was threatened or something.”

“Threaten you? Who did that?” He put on his stethoscope, trying — and failing — to hide his mischievous grin.

She put the book to the side as he pressed the cold stethoscope to her chest. She was oddly still. He glanced at her as he focused. She already had her suit on, only zipped halfway. For some reason, he couldn’t stop looking at her boots. He found it awfully endearing how she always managed to sneak some pink into her daily life.

This time: the pink laces on her work boots.

“Oh, you know. A hot doctor, you probably know him. He said if I didn’t show up at seven in the morning, he’d hunt me down for sport or something.”

She stopped talking and took deep breaths. Jack moved the stethoscope slowly, like he didn’t want the moment to end.

When he didn’t move, she took another deep breath without question. Her eyes wandered as she tried to find something to focus on in the meantime, but all she got were several curious eyes on her from outside the room. She smiled and waved a hand at them.

Jack looked in her direction, not stopping the exam, which made all of them scurry away immediately, just from his gaze.

“Are you tormenting interns, Dr. Abbot?” she tried to laugh, but was interrupted by a slightly painful cough. “I didn’t think you were one of those attendings.”

“Those attendings? What does that mean?” he asked, a smirk showing up on his face, one that remained even when Mateo entered the room.

“Mateo will take your vitals. I’ll be back in a second.”

“Oh, you’re leaving me so early?” she complained.

Jack rolled his eyes as he stepped out of the room, nodding as he went.

He made sure to take his time as he walked toward the nurse station. Dana was in the middle, typing at the computer with determination. Behind her, Perlah and Princess shared a snack, their eyes now laser-focused on him. Robby stood behind them.

He almost turned back.

“Hey Dana, can I get a peak flow for South 15?” he asked.

Dana looked up over her glasses for a second and huffed.

“Sure. Want an EKG too? Maybe a stress test while we’re at it?”

Robby took off his glasses as he realized what the conversation was about and walked away. First, he took a quick peek at the room before looking back at Dana and Jack, who were still discussing hypothetical tests they could give the rescuer, afraid he’d get caught.

He opened the door as Mateo took her vitals.

“Abbot said he wants a CBC as well, please.” Mateo nodded. “How are we doing?”

“Did Dr. Abbot ditch me already?” she tilted her head slightly, looking behind him.

“I’m okay. I’d be better if I could leave.”

“Yeah, but we have to cover our bases before we let you out.”

Robby didn't put on his gloves — he already sensed Jack coming back to the room from a mile away.

And he was right. Just a few seconds later, Jack walked back in. He barely looked at Robby, who stepped back to allow him to continue the exam.

Jack didn’t speak; his hands traveled to the rescuer's neck to check it. Then, just like last time, his right hand held her chin.

“Open up,” he ordered.

She smirked and rolled her eyes.

“Now.”

“Is he always this bossy?” she asked, but obeyed immediately. 

Robby didn’t answer. Instead, he looked at Mateo with raised eyebrows. Mateo held back a laugh.

Abbot didn’t bother to notice them; he was solely focused on her. Even if he had, he wouldn’t have cared.

“He’s not usually this bossy. I think he’s just worried,” Robby finally said.

He watched as Mateo drew her blood, like a scaredy-cat ready to jump away at any second.

She barely noticed; her whole attention was on Jack, who was now checking her pupils and had moved down to her abdomen without question.

It was clear she couldn’t care less about anyone else in the room.

“Would you be willing to wait a little bit until we get your test results back?” He leaned in closer.

Subsequently, Robby and Mateo took a step back.

“Maybe let me put you on some oxygen while we’re at it?”

“You’re handsome, but don’t test your luck. I’m here to be cleared medically, and then I’m out. But I’ll visit you later, how does that sound?”

She pinched his scrubs, daring him to get closer.

“My crew is waiting outside, too.”

“Do you ever stop?” Jack squinted, his hands coming to her shoulders to lay her back on the gurney.

“Do you?” she asked back.

By that point, Mateo and Robby had managed to leave the room without anyone noticing. The conversation felt too intense for their liking. Robby was sure he wasn’t as shameless as Jack, even with Heather.

“Mateo, get back in there, we need intel!” Princess hissed, already pushing him back toward the room.

“No fucking way. They’re about to make out, no thanks.”

He wriggled free from Princess and made his way toward anywhere but there.

“You go if you want to.”

“Is it that bad?” Dana asked.

She took one look at Princess before handing her the peak flow meter. Someone had to do it. Might as well get some chisme out of it.

Princess happily walked toward Bay 6. Dana, on the other hand, looked at Robby, waiting for an answer.

“He told me about her all night, how he forgot to ask for her name before doing a physical. How amazing and young she was…”

Dana looked back at the room, the one Princess was now hurriedly leaving after only a few seconds inside.

“The last time he sounded so excited about something was when I got him that medical book from England.”

“So you’re telling me that after years of us setting him up with hundreds of women, a youngster rescuer is the one to get his attention?”

They looked at each other, amused. And then, they laughed.

You could call it ironic — or ridiculous — because it felt like both.

Robby and Dana forgot how many blind dates they’d set up, how many casual meetups they’d planned… and nothing ever happened.

Dana still had a few unread messages from friends asking if her cute coworker had asked about them.

He never did.

“Thanks, Dr. Abbot. I’ll see you around!”

The rescuer waved back at the exam room and walked away before anyone could answer. Her steps were quick but not hurried.

She stopped next to Robby, a bright smile on her face as she set her backpack down on the nurse station and pulled out two huge jars of instant coffee, placing them in front of him.

“I think this is yours,” she said. Robby blinked a couple of times, shifting his gaze between her and the jars.

“Jack said you asked for coffee. My crew and I got a donation, but we don’t drink much on the clock. Consider it a trade.”

“Trade for what?” Dana asked, snatching the jars before the rescuer could take them away.

“You got any nicotine gum packs?” she whispered, leaning in. Her eyes drifted toward Abbot, who stood still, watching her.

“You got it, kiddo. Two nicotine gum packs for two jars, deal?” Dana turned around before she could see the girl nod, but still took the packs and handed them over.

The rescuer hid them immediately in her suit, just as Jack walked toward them. She smiled and grabbed her backpack. Abbot looked at her suspiciously, then at Dana.

 “Oh, I haven’t introduced myself,” she said, offering her hand to Robby after saying her name. Then she did the same with Dana and Jack, a sly smile on her face. “Since you missed it last time, Dr. Abbot.”

“Michael Robinavitch. You can call me Robby,” he smiled.

“Dana Evans. Just call me Dana, kid.”

“You told me your name already, yesterday,” Jack said under his breath.

“Yeah, after you forgot to ask for it for about six hours,” she huffed.

 The girl leaned into the nurse station toward Dana, who leaned in, curious.

“Are you the charge nurse?” she whispered. Dana nodded once more. “Okay, I need to tell you something… alone.”

“She means get lost,” Dana snapped. Both doctors stepped away immediately.

“You didn’t hear it from me. And I mean it. But we got word that this hospital could become a staging zone now that they’re clearing paths and reaching neighborhoods. Right now… if I had to guess, we’re looking at around 400 living, and I’m lowballing it.”

Dana didn’t flinch; she nodded, looking intently at the girl. “You’d be the second point of triage after field stabilization. You’re appointed for immediate care and choose who gets rerouted after we clear everything else.”

“You got it, cap.” Dana nodded. “Anything else?”

“Yes, could you give me Dr. Abbot’s number?” she whispered. Dana hit her on the shoulder, softly but hard enough to make her laugh.

“Is that a no?”

“Legally, no. But if you come back later for your results, I might give him a five-minute break with you,” Dana suggested.

The girl smirked and took a step back. Robby and Jack took it as a sign to join the conversation again.

“Well, thank you so much. I have to get going,” she said, her walkie-talkie coming to life as if she had predicted it. “I’ll be back tonight!”

“I’ll be checking your lungs later today!” Jack yelled after her.

She turned around and waved with both hands as she disappeared.

“Something you need to tell us, Abbot?” Dana asked, walking around the nurse’s station to stand next to him.

“Like what?” he looked away. Dana and Robby shared a look.

“Like… giving special attention to a certain rescuer?” Robby leaned into Jack, who rolled his eyes and took a step back. “I’m just saying.”

“I can’t help people now?” Jack turned around, squinting as a laugh left his lips.

He walked away, still looking over his shoulder as he found something to get busy with.

“You think I can get him to admit he has a crush?” Robby quipped.

“No time for that. That girl just told me we won the grand prize of being the staging zone for Pittsburgh,” Dana whispered, loud enough for Robby to hear. “So, how much time do we have?”

“If we’re lucky, six hours. But if they’re already weighing options, I’d say about three.” Robby grabbed one of the phones and bit the inside of his cheek as he waited for an answer. “Hey, Gloria. We have a situation.”

Four hours and seventeen minutes later, the hospital was chaos.

Abbot made sure to wake every single member of his staff after discussing the course of action. This time, he was able to explain more about what would happen. The hospital was not a staging zone, which meant they were now in charge of triage and patient flow; who stays, who moves, who gets treatment, and who needs urgent medevac because of their limitations. It was a highly risky and stressful role.

He was sure his staff would rise to the occasion. But somehow, the stranger still lingered in his mind.

Still, he managed to set a sleep schedule good enough for everyone. So, when Shen woke up at 2 PM after sleeping a little too long, he almost forced Jack to take a nap.

This time, he did sleep. Exhaustion took over as his face hit the pillow of the surprisingly empty call room. He didn’t set an alarm, knowing that Shen could hold the hospital on his back and then some. But as his police scanner slowly picked up a signal again, he left it on, using it as white noise to keep him asleep.

Four hours later, he woke up like a new man. Any sense of doom inside him was gone. He finally ate the burrito he had taken from the Topos the day before, feeling like he could conquer the world again. He chewed slowly, trying to catch anything on the scanner, but nothing came up. Although the police were absolutely overwhelmed with problems, Jack knew they were most likely having conversations in person.

Begrudgingly, he made his way toward the emergency department again. He missed that brief moment upon waking when nothing worried him but the warmth of the bed and the comfort of a pillow. He blinked slowly; the fluorescent lights hurt his eyes every time he walked in. Robby was nowhere to be seen, nor was Dana.

Shen stood in the middle of the room, talking with Mary, their new night shift charge nurse. He looked up and threw a peace sign at Jack before turning around to check on a patient.

The ED was calm. As calm as it could be in a moment like that. He sneaked up to Mary, looking around as if he were smuggling drugs before opening a drawer and grabbing a fistful of Ferrero Rocher chocolates. Mary raised an eyebrow.

“Stealing now, Dr. Abbot?” she whispered. In exchange, he gave her one of the chocolates and stuffed the rest into his cargo pants.

“Shh. You cover for me, and I’ll ask Gloria if you can wear your pink scrubs,” he promised. She nodded eagerly.

“It’s a deal, then.”

“Oh, by the way,” she said, loosely pointing toward the ambulance bay. “That girl you mentioned last night is outside. She’s clear medically and explicitly asked not to see you.”

“Got it,” he whispered, grabbing his stethoscope. “I’ll be right back.”

“Of course you will.”

© CARMENLIKEME 2025. All rights reserved. Do not repost, modify or claim as yours.

[eringobragh420]

✧˚ · . .sextape

pairing — damian priest ♥︎ f!reader, super mild damian priest ♥︎ cody rhodes summary — after the podcast, damian and cody discover they have more in common than they thought, so damian brings him home to you. words — 3.3k warnings — nsfw. voyeurism/exhibitionism, recording sex, dirty talk, degradation, oral (m and f receiving), unprotected p in v, super mild m/m (happy pride, y’all), cum 18+ taglist — if you’d like to be added, please click here!  requested by — anonymous, thank you so much!

MASTERLIST DAMIAN PRIEST KINK LIST

if you enjoy my writing, please consider donating toward my IVF journey!

Cody followed Damian through his house, up the staircase, and down the hall toward your and Damian’s bedroom door. He fingered the corner of his cell phone in a front pocket of his slacks when he stuffed his hands inside, smirking when Damian told him that, yes, sometimes you could be a brat, but more often than not, you were only too happy to obey any orders or suggestions given by your boyfriend. And, upon opening the door and revealing the picturesque scene, he was proven absolutely correct, because there you stood, in the white lingerie Damian had purchased for you not long ago, hands clasped behind your back, devilish smirk tugging at your lips.

Until Cody Rhodes came into view, stepping out confidently from behind Damian. As your man continued toward you, Cody hung back, and considering your clothing, or lack thereof, and the wolfish grin morphing Damian’s plump mouth, you could only guess what was going through his mind.

Damian chuckled at your lack of immediate surprise, dropping a gentle giant of a hand on your bare shoulder as he passed smoothly behind you. The entirety of the backside of your body ignited, and you tilted your head with a drunken smile when Damian nuzzled your neck, kissing the junction between your neck and shoulder, nipping. 

“Told you,” Damian grumbled, hands sliding from your sides to your belly, down to your hips, fingers dancing along your panty line. 

“You did,” Cody replied, smiling, tilting his head.

They were so different, Cody and Damian, physically and otherwise—Cody was the exact opposite of your type—but you couldn’t stop the clenching of your pussy or the hardening of your nipples or the hitch of breath in your throat as you watched him watching you, watched him watching Damian delicately devour your neck. He was a beautiful man where Damian was sheer sex; pretty, amiable sapphire eyes where Damian’s were dark and lewd. But it wasn’t so much Cody turning you on as it was Cody watching. 

“After the podcast,” Damian explained, lips still exploring your warming skin, “Cody and I started talking about … things.” Your and Cody’s gazes met. “Turns out, the American Nightmare is … a watcher.” You gulped, thighs rubbing together as your pussy continued to dampen. “He likes to watch people fuck.” You gasped, Damian snickering into your ear. “Girls, guys, both … he just wants to watch.” 

“And direct,” Cody added. Your brows rose. “And record, if possible.” Speaking like he was negotiating a business deal—why did it turn you on? The suit, the speech, the deviance in his azure eyes. Damian’s hands roaming your burning body, his lips, tongue and teeth now ravaging the other side of your neck. 

“Record,” you breathed. 

“So I had to tell him about you, angelita,” Damian continued explaining. “That you like to be watched. We like to be watched.” One arm was around your waist, the opposite hand clutching your chin and turning your head in his direction, breaking your eye contact with Cody. “And I told him you like to be told what to do. Directed.”

Realization dawning on you, you turned your head as much as Damian would allow so you could look at Cody once more. Hands still in his pockets, but his eyes were gleaming—a sparkle in those blue diamonds you imagined was seen by many prey just before they were maimed by their respective predators. Your panties were soaked by now, skin decorated in goosebumps. 

“So you wanna direct our porn,” you stated in the most simplest of terms. These two men seemed to be dancing around the subject, or drawing it out—either way, your body wasn’t built to handle waiting. 

Cody’s chuckle was a soft breath. “And keep it.”

You nodded slowly. “And?” you pressed. 

“Watch it.” Cody took a few steps forward, slyly deleting most of the space between you. Damian’s teeth scraped your earlobe, and your own teeth clamped onto your bottom lip. 

“And?” you continued.

Damian laughed. “She wants to hear you’re gonna jerk off to her,” he said.

Cody nodded. More slow steps, closer to you—close enough you could now feel his heat, smell his cologne, delve so deeply into his eyes that you were momentarily lost in a cerulean sky. He leaned down a bit, and you now smelt the mint on his breath, the vodka, as he whispered, “What makes you think I haven’t already?”

Enough was enough. Grinning like a fool, you turned in Damian’s long, strong arms and pressed your lips to his. You drank down his moan, grinning at his familiar, breathy noises, hands sliding to the back of his neck and head, tugging on his hair still wrapped in a bun. You heard Cody moving behind you, heard the familiar click of a cell phone being unlocked, and your heart pounded into your ribs. Damian had made videos before—you sucking him, him eating you, every position of fucking either of you could imagine—but it was different now. A second set of eyes on you, a third if you counted the phone, and the exhibitionist in you celebrated—this was your Everest, your platinum-selling record, your goddamn Nobel prize. You were a performer at heart, and sometimes putting on a show every Friday night just … wasn’t … 

“Take his clothes off,” Cody softly directed, and so focused were you on Damian’s taste, his hands all over every inch of your body he was able to reach, you didn’t notice how easily you gripped the bottom of his shirt, lifting as high as you could reach, allowing him to take the shirt the rest of the way. You kissed his chest, the tattoos drawn there, his skin so warm and shockingly soft, and your hands skidded down his abs, stopping at the buckle of his belt. Pulling the pieces apart, you jerked the leather through the loops of his jeans, dropping it to the carpet with a quiet thud. Next, you unbuttoned his black jeans, lowered the zipper, and pushed the article down his legs. All the while, with your peripheral vision, you clocked Cody moving his phone this way and that, attention focused on the screen. 

“Good,” Cody said. “Now get on your knees.”

You shared a smile with Damian, a knowing smile, an erotic, excited, smile, before descending to your knees, joining the discarded black belt. Without instruction, you mouthed the big man through his black briefs, his semi-hard cock twitching to life within seconds. Hands on his thick thighs, you licked the dampened fabric along the length of his dick, lewdly dragging your tongue on the cotton—showing off for Damian, for Cody, for the camera. 

“Fuck,” Damian whispered. 

“Take it out,” Cody rasped. He squatted next to you, his eyes and phone directed on your hands as you lowered the elastic waistband of Damian’s briefs, allowing his impressive dick to bounce free. “Lick it,” Cody whispered, and you instantly obeyed—equal parts needing your man’s cock in your mouth and because Cody told you to. Your tongue bathed Damian’s dick from the head to the root and back, circling the head, refamiliarizing yourself with every ridge and every vein. “This is even hotter than I imagined.” Your eyes fluttered, fingers squeezing Damian’s thighs, and you pressed a wet, sucking kiss to the underside of the head. “Put it in your mouth.” Cody dropped to both knees beside you, iPhone a barrier between you. “And I wanna hear you gag.”

You didn’t need any further instruction as far as gagging was concerned. Happily, you enveloped Damian in your scorching, wet mouth, the head passing along your tongue and into the back of your throat, where you forced it down as far as it would go. Until your body convulsed. Until you gagged, eyes squeezing shut, tears poking at the corners. “Again,” Cody ordered. Pulling back, your tongue played briefly with Damian’s slit before forcing your head forward and his cock into your neck. You gagged, coughed, spit coating Damian’s thick shaft, and you couldn’t quell the moan from deep in your chest. “You’re just a cockwhore, aren’t you?” Another groan, and you tried forcing Damian deeper as you nodded. “Yeah … I knew it. It’s always been obvious how bad you need dick in at least one of your holes all the time.” 

“Fuck!” Damian repeated. “He’s right … and I didn’t have to tell him a fuckin’ thing.” 

Your body shuddered at the words, cunt clenching around nothing but your juices under the weight of the mens’ blatant gaping. Your cheeks hollowed, your mouth creating a vacuum, and Damian snatched a chunk of your hair.

“Say it,” Cody whispered. “I wanna hear you say it.” The lisp, usually an endearing quality, now made your thighs tremble and your heart flip flop.

Reluctantly removing Damian from your mouth, you gasped, “I’m just a cockwhore.”

Cody nodded, satisfied. “Put it back in your mouth. And I’m really surprised a slut like you needs to be told to pay attention to the balls.”

He had a point, and so as you slurped Damian back into your tight throat, your hand rose to cup his full balls, massage them, give them a bit of a tug until Damian grunted, his fingers pressing into your skull. 

“That’s my girl,” Damian breathed. “Show him how much you love this dick.”

As you sucked and licked and rolled and tugged, Cody stood and made his way toward the bed. You watched, mouth still working, as Cody unbuttoned the vest he wore, loosened his tie, and then he fell on the mattress, his back against the headboard. 

“Come here,” he said, following a moment of recording from a new angle.

Reluctantly, and only after several moments and several bobs of your head, you released Damian from your mouth, his glistening cock bouncing in the cool air. Shrugging at your boyfriend’s strangled whine, you climbed to your feet and then climbed on the mattress, crawling up to Cody as he waggled his fingers, his phone held steady on his chest as he continued making his movie. 

“Spread your legs,” Cody said, and your knees slid apart on the white sheets, back arching, and the movement of the phone wasn’t lost on you. “How’s that pussy look, Priest?” 

After moving your panties to the side, Damian boasted, “Wet as fuck.”

“Get a shot of that before you destroy it,” Cody said, handing his phone off to Damian behind you, and you fought the urge to close your legs at the sudden zoomed-in scrutiny. “What’s got you so wet, princess?” Cody asked you. “Sucking cock or being watched while you suck cock?” 

“Both,” you answered honestly. “Oh, god,” you burst. “Papí.” Damian’s tongue licked from the top of your slit up to your hole, poking inside before sucking your clit into his hungry mouth. 

“You call him daddy?” Cody growled, leaning forward to take possession of his phone again. Eyes closed, able to catch the raw lust in his tone, you smirked, tip of your tongue traveling along your lips. “I knew you were a slut, but you were able to hide just how much of a slut you really are, weren’t you?” His hand cupped your face, and you nuzzled into his tender touch mere moments before Damian smacked your ass, ripping a scream from your throat. You collapsed forward, cheek mashing against one of Cody’s unforgiving pecs, Damian’s tongue everywhere all at once, inside and outside, up and down, left and right. You weren’t a stranger to his tactics, but sometimes the fierceness with which he ate you surprised you.

Cody pushed gently at your shoulder until you rose back up to your hands and knees, and then he cradled your chin, your eyes meeting his. The filth you found—the unadulterated deviance—in those blue pools sent you teetering on the edge. “That’s a good girl,” Cody praised, glancing at his phone to be sure everything he wanted to see was in frame, gaze returning to yours quickly. 

“Fuck, Papi, I’m gonna come,” you babbled. You felt and heard your boyfriend’s deep chuckle, and somehow he was able to dive further into your pussy, all tongue and lips and teeth.

Cody’s grip tightened on your chin, your brows furrowing as a result of the discomfort. “Right here,” he said. “Put your pretty eyes right here and let me watch you come.” Your body shook, beginning in your thighs, ending in your wrists, mouth hanging open like a dehydrated dog, but you kept your eyes open and you kept them on the lens in the corner of the phone. “Is Priest getting a mouthful of cum?” Cody wanted to know. 

You nodded. “If you wanna know what I taste like,” you breathed, eyes switching from the phone to Cody’s hooded ones, “you could give Damian a kiss—” Cody’s head tilted. “—I bet he wouldn’t mind.” Damian smacked your ass again, a squeal and a smile the effect this time. 

“Roll over,” Cody commanded.

You waited for him to release your chin before obeying, though, since he hadn’t been specific on where exactly he’d wanted you to lay, you lifted yourself over Cody’s leg, glancing at him over your shoulder. Understanding was clear and instant, and Cody spread his legs to accommodate you, switching the angle of the phone as you carefully rested your head against the solid ridge in Cody’s expensive pants. 

“Since you’re so adorable—” Cody admonished, thumb caressing your cheek as you watched Damian maneuver himself between your legs, between Cody’s legs, weeping shaft bobbing deliciously in the air. “—you’re gonna have to beg your Papi to give you his cock.”

“Please, Papi,” you whispered, nails dancing up his abs to his chest, scraping over his nipples, smiling at the shudder he tried to hide. “Please fuck me.” 

“Tell him how bad you need it,” Cody urged. 

“So fucking bad,” you mewled, squeezing Damian’s strong shoulders. “I need you inside me. I always need you inside me. Please?”

Damian slapped his cock against your sopping pussy, the wet sounds echoing off the walls, and your back arched. “Is this what you need, baby girl?” Damian asked, the bass in his voice enough to make you come again. 

Your nod was frantic, creating just enough friction against Cody’s cock to steal a moan from him. Damian’s eyes passed over your head to meet Cody’s, and an expression painted his features like something you’d never seen before—was he asking permission? Receiving whatever he needed, Damian pounded into you, your hands slipping from his shoulders so your arms could wrap around Cody’s sturdy thighs, steeling your body against Damian’s fierce thrusts. Your eyes locked, your peripheral vision picking up the phone in Cody’s hand once more as it floated around in the background, and you smiled up at Damian, silently thanking him for making your night even more interesting than you’d anticipated. A few more thrusts and he pressed into you as far as possible, kissing your cervix, launching his cum as far inside you as he was physically able. 

“You feel me?” Damian breathed, huge hand splayed across your lower belly, pressing down like he might feel the outline of his cock. 

“Everywhere,” you whispered in response, releasing Cody’s legs to curl your arms around Damian’s neck. “So fucking deep.” Your lips crashed together, your head still resting against Cody’s straining erection, Damian delicately continuing to move inside you until he couldn’t anymore, soft cock falling out of your still-tightening hole. 

“Can’t believe how well she took that monster cock,” Cody aloofly commented.

Damian giggled—giggled. And was that a blush? “I had to train her,” he replied, hands all over you—your neck, shoulders, breasts, sides, hips. “She didn’t come out of a box ready to take this dick.” You rolled your eyes, listening to Cody chuckle behind you. “You wanna get a shot of this?” He spread your thighs, his fingers sliding to your folds so he could pull them apart, and that’s when you felt his cum start to leak out of you. 

“Absolutely,” Cody replied, handing his phone off again. You looked up at him, his face just as beautiful upside down, and his hands took Damian’s place, though they settled mostly over your breasts, fingers dipping inside your bra, his thumbs drawing small, soft circles around the hardened, sensitive peaks of your nipples. “The camera loves you,” he said. 

“Yeah?” you whispered, enchanted by his eyes, his mouth, the lisp. 

“Oh, yeah. Now put your fingers in your pussy—” You gasped, thinking the filth was behind you. At least for the time being. Always willing to obey, your own hand slid down your body to your ruined cunt, and you gathered the mixture of your and Damian’s cum on your first two digits. Cody and Damian were silent as they watched you bring your index finger to your lips, slurping it into your mouth, cleaning it as deeply as you suspected Cody was about to tell you to do.

Taking things a step further—you really didn’t think either of them would make the first move if they ever made a move—you rolled back onto your stomach, still safely between Cody’s legs. Smiling softly, eyes zeroed in on the American Nightmare’s mouth, you slowly moved your still-dripping middle finger toward it, giving him every opportunity in the world to stop you. When he remained still, your grin stretched, and you touched the pad of your finger, coated in your cum, coated in Damian’s cum, to his bottom lip, spreading it along the rosy skin like chapstick. 

“Look how pretty, Papi,” you whispered, turning your head, though your attention on Cody remained unbroken.

Damian draped himself over your back, your smile somehow broadening, and he kissed your shoulder, your cheek. “He is pretty, isn’t he?” he surprisingly agreed, though you weren’t sure he was focused on Cody so much as he was focused on you. One arm supported his weight while the opposite hand skidded along your ribs, belly button, hip, back to your ass, which he smacked one last time, this one not as strong as the others. It was lust before, sheer need—now it was love, unmatched adoration, a gentle reminder of just how much you meant to him.

But you had to finish this one thing. 

“Will you lick it?” you asked Cody, breathless, eyes fluttering as Damian rutted slow, hard, against your now-tingling ass cheek. Cody cocked his head, those brilliant sapphires sparkling as he watched you for a moment, gaze flicking to Damian, and the three of you were so close, sharing shallow breaths and still-rising heat. 

“I think he wants you to ask nicely, angelita,” Damian growled, plump lips grazing the shell of your ear. 

Cody’s eyes came back to yours. 

“Will you please lick it?” you whispered. “I promise it tastes so good.”

After a pause, Cody’s lips twitched, the viscous cum glistening, and if he wasn’t gonna lick it, somebody was. But you got your wish—Cody’s pink tongue slithered out, the tip sliding along his bottom lip before he sucked it into his mouth, and you saw his chest collapse with a sigh. “Fuck,” he said, eyes closing.

Damian was hard again, hot and heavy behind you, still making a meal of your neck and shoulders. Cody was still hard, and when his eyes blinked open, you saw his patience was wearing thin. 

“So,” you said, “what do I have to do to get you two to make out?”

TAGLIST:

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[mcrdvcks]

i loved your peter parker writing aaaa could you share every of your ideas or headcannons about peter dating stark’s daughter because that’s soooo cool

i had to physically stop myself from writing a 10 page essay on peter parker x stark!reader because i am the leader of that fanclub.

send an ask for my 2,000 followers celebration!

warnings/tags: stark!reader, peter is adorable and awkward, flufffff

For this, I’m going to say that the Avengers are a big happy family and Tony and Natasha aren’t dead because Endgame didn’t happen.

Okay, now that we have that out of the way…

The first time Peter meets you, he almost dies. Not in a mission. Not from a villain. From embarrassment. Because you walked into the common room wearing an Empire Strikes Back shirt and he short-circuited. He almost said “I love you” before you even introduced yourself. Almost. He thinks about it every day.

You’re Tony’s daughter. That alone terrifies him. But you’re also smart, snarky, ridiculously pretty, and somehow nice to him? He panics. A lot. Sam teases him about it constantly. Natasha doesn’t say a word—but she watches him with a very intense “hurt her and vanish” kind of stare.

You bond instantly over nerdy things. Star Wars marathons. Building Lego sets. Competitive Mario Kart nights (he wins, you throw a pillow at him, he thinks about it for the rest of the week).

Peter is so, so obvious. He blushes when you laugh at his jokes. He tries to impress you with science facts. He once nearly walked into a wall because you smiled at him in the hallway. Tony notices. Tony absolutely notices.

Tony is deeply skeptical at first. “Spider-Boy? Really?” “It’s Spider-Man, actually—sir. Mr. Stark. Uh—Tony. No, I mean yes, sir—”

You immediately started teasing Peter the second you realized he was crushing on you. “Hey, Spider-Boy. You always blush this hard when someone compliments your webbing?” He short-circuited. Nat cackled in the background.

When Peter finally confesses, it’s clumsy and fast and heartfelt. “I—I like you. A lot. Like, a lot a lot. You’re smart and kind and you make fun of me in ways that make me feel loved and—and you’re you and—” You kiss him. He forgets his own name.

You two get caught sneaking around the Compound constantly. Tony installed ten extra cameras. Natasha disabled all ten. “She’s got taste, Stark,” Nat told him, sipping her coffee. “Could’ve picked some idiot in LA. Instead she went for the one with a conscience.”

But eventually, Tony softens. Because he sees the way Peter looks at you—like you hung the damn stars. And he sees the way you look back. So Tony gives Peter the Talk. It lasts exactly 41 minutes and includes the phrases:

“If you hurt her, I will build a satellite laser and name it after you—then fire it at you.”

“Do you know what emotional damage looks like under a microscope? I do.”

“Say ‘yes sir’ one more time and I’m revoking your suit.” Peter sits through all of it nodding like a scared golden retriever.

You love teasing him. “What’s the matter, Parker? Web-fluid low or just distracted by greatness?”

You go full nerd together.

Rewatch Rogue One and cry every time.

Stay up late building a Millennium Falcon Lego set while sipping juice boxes like 5th graders.

Battle each other in Smash Bros. and nearly break the couch when you tackle him after a win. It’s the kind of love that makes your cheeks hurt from smiling.

Tony sees it all. The way Peter looks at you like you're the last miracle in the world. The way you rest your head on his shoulder like you trust him. And yeah, Tony's terrified. But he's also… proud. Because Peter’s exactly the kind of person he hoped you'd love one day.

Peter is constantly trying to impress you. You offhandedly mention you like galaxies? He makes you a custom mini star projector. You say you’re hungry? He learns to make your favorite snack from scratch. One time he almost passed out from dehydration during a mission because he gave you his water bottle.

You steal Peter’s hoodies. All of them. He never complains, but every time you wear one, he short-circuits a little. “You know, that was my favorite—wait, never mind. You look really cute. Carry on.”

You and Peter share one of those dumb secret handshakes. No one else understands it. Sam tries to mimic it once. Breaks a lamp.

Peter’s phone background is a photo of you asleep on his shoulder during a movie. He stares at it at least once a day. When he’s stressed. When he misses you. When Ned catches him zoning out and yells, “Dude, that’s the tenth time today.”

Tony absolutely spies on your dates at first. Security footage. Audio logs. Probably a drone or two. You find the feed. Change it so it plays Shrek 2 on loop. Tony doesn’t speak to you for 48 hours. Peter buys you flowers out of sheer awe.

When he’s overwhelmed, he goes straight to you. Doesn’t even have to say anything. Just puts his head in your lap, mumbles, “Too much.” You run your fingers through his curls and hum Star Wars music softly until he settles.

You and Peter prank the other Avengers constantly. Replaced Sam’s Redwing with a drone shaped like a duck. Programmed FRIDAY to refer to Bucky as “Captain Eyeliner.” Once convinced Clint that the Compound was haunted using Bluetooth speakers and spooky whispers.

Peter memorized your laugh. He knows exactly what kind of jokes earn the snort. Which shows get the wheeze. He collects them like rare treasure. Stores them behind his ribs where it’s safe.

[hansungie01]

“Not so shy anymore, huh?” // b.c

Genre; Smut

Word Count; 2.3k

Contains; dom!chan, femsub!reader, virgin!reader, oral sex (female receiving), daddy kink, praise kink, hair pulling, teasing, a bit of cum play

Disclaimer; My writing always contains consensual sex, even if it is not explicitly mentioned. Always ask for consent!!

A/N: This is a repost of a fic I wrote years ago. I recently found these fics on my computer so I decided to post them again!

The atmosphere was peaceful - not a sound filled the room besides the faint breathing of both you and Chan. Chan was reading something on his phone, with you resting underneath his arm below his jaw. You and him had been cuddling up on the couch for the last few hours, enjoying the warm feeling of each other’s company, as you usually did when you two were able to find time to spend with each other.

Nowadays, this was rare, and the only times you truly got to enjoy each others company was when the rest of the boys all had gone out for the night and Chan’s schedule was completely free. Luckily, the boys chose to attend a party tonight while Chan decided to stay at the dorms with you, to which you were incredibly grateful for.

“Chan, can I ask you something?”, breaking the comfortable silence among the room, you looked up at him with an innocent yet curious look on your face.He glanced away from his phone momentarily before humming in acknowledgement. You reached down to fiddle with the strings of your hair, nervous to ask what had been invading your mind for the past little while.

“Uh, have you ever eaten a girl out before?”

Chan nearly choked on his spit at the question. Yes, you two had engaged in intimate activities before, but you had never gone as far as to touch each other in ways that required you to undress. To even initiate conversation that directly involved sex was unheard of from you. Your words had shocked him, to say the least.

“Uh, yeah I guess I have”, he chuckled awkwardly at the question, reaching his free arm behind him to scratch the back of his head.

“You guess?”, you replied, urging him to explain further. You had no idea where you had gotten the confidence to ask such a sexual question in the first place, but you figured now that you had started, there was no going back.

“I mean, yeah I have. Why do you ask?”. Although you and Chan were laying so close to each other on the couch, you could still physically feel the tension in the room, the atmosphere had grown awkward within seconds.

“I just, you never really talk about your sex life, and I know that you’ve had other partners in the past, so..”

He nodded vaguely, unsure of how to respond otherwise. The last thing he wanted to do was make you uncomfortable, and considering this was the first time you had discussed the topic of sex with him, he felt as though he had to be careful with what he said. His thoughts were cut short when you spoke up again.

“Are you”, you began. “Do you think you’re like, good at it?”

He smiled off to the side upon hearing the quiet tone in your voice. He didn’t wanna make you uncomfortable, but by this point in the conversation, he was beginning to understand where you were trying to go with the topic, so he decided to go along with it. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Oh my god, no!”, you jolted up from his lap, now seated facing towards him.

There he was, looking back at you with a smug grin on his face. You backtracked on your words to justify why you had responded so defensively.

“I-I mean, I was curious, but not because I wanted you to do it to me or anything…”, you trailed off as you heard him chuckle.

“Mhm, of course, babe. You wouldn’t lie to me, right?”, he teased as he tilted his head to the side, that annoyingly smug grin spreading further across his face. You shook your head, prompting him to tease you once more. “Then tell me why you asked such a dirty question just now?”

You felt your cheeks heating up at the nickname. He had never called you that before, usually only referring to you with your name. This nickname, however, caused your head to spin at the way his voice suddenly dropped.“I-I just wanted to know what it feels like”, you couldn’t look him in the eye as you forced yourself to tell him the truth.”To, you know, be eaten out”

“There we go, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”, he said, satisfied at your honesty. “So tell me, would you like me to show you?”

Taking a deep breath in, you momentarily found the courage to look him in the eyes as you spoke up.

“Could you, please?”

He grinned. “Of course I can. You have no idea how long I’ve waited for you to say that, love”, immediately, he rose from his seat on the couch, now standing directly in front of you.

“Now, be a good girl for me and lay on your back, okay?”, his voice was gentle as he spoke. You looked back up at him, nodding your head before shifting backwards to do as he instructed.

Once you had laid your back down on the couch, he lifted his t-shirt above his head, tossing it to the side of the room. He leaned down to place himself in between your thighs, bringing his lips toward yours and initiating a passionate make out session.

This, you were familiar with. You knew this feeling, you had engraved it in your memory from the moment his lips had first touched yours during your second date with each other. You could never forget the initial feeling that kissing him had given you - it was euphoric, that was the only way your clouded mind could describe it.

You were reliving that exact feeling now. This time, however, there was an added feeling of anxiousness at what you knew was about to occur. That feeling seemed to intensify once you felt him reach down to tug your leg up towards your chest, a subtle way for him to tell you what was about to come next. He pulled away from your lips for a moment.

“Baby girl, move your hips up for me so I can take these off, yeah?”, he said, slipping his pointer and middle finger into the waistband of your shorts. You did as he asked, shifting your hips up enough for him to slowly begin tugging your shorts off and dropping them to the floor.

Leaning back slightly, he took his hand to trail his finger along the sides of your bright-coloured panties, running them over your hips and stopping where your now dripping core was.

“Such a pretty little pussy”, he whispered as his eyes watched his fingers trail over top of your panties. You could feel yourself becoming wetter at the tingly feeling, this was something new to you. When his fingers stopped directly above where your pussy was, he glanced up to take in the expression on your face.“Do you like it when I touch you there, baby girl?”, you gasped softly as his finger pressed ever so slightly against your aching core, causing him to smirk upon seeing your reaction. “Hm, this is gonna be fun”

He took his finger off of your core momentarily before laying down on his stomach just below your hips, enough to feel his breathing on your skin. He repositioned his finger, this time hooking it inside of your panties and pulling them towards him before letting it snap back against your core. You felt the sensation spark throughout your body, the intensity of your throbbing core mixed with the hot atmosphere causing you to react so heavily.

He giggled, placing a kiss on your pussy over your panties. “Sensitive, huh?”

You nodded as you shifted your body up to rest your weight on your arms, watching his every move as he hooked his finger into your panties once more to move them to the side. Just when you thought he was about to finally give you what you were longing for, he looked up at you.

“Don’t hold back, baby girl. I wanna hear every sound coming from those pretty little lips of yours”

With that, he finally stuck his tongue out as he made contact with your pussy, causing you to let out a subtle gasp at the feeling. No matter how you could’ve imagined the feeling before, nothing had compared to the real thing. His tongue had you experiencing a feeling you never had before, and without thinking, you let out a moan.

He hummed against your pussy, causing you to quickly bring your hand down to grip onto his hair. This encouraged him to go deeper, as he started to run harsh strips up along your core with his tongue. Wanting to pay extra attention to where you were most sensitive, he made sure to swirl circles around your clit with every other swipe of his tongue.

You breathing became unsteady as the movements of his tongue and lips became sloppier. He ran his hands across your hips, bringing one of your legs up and to rest his palm on your thigh. This allowed his tongue to slip deeper into your core - he could even feel your pussy clenching on his tongue.

“God, Chan. Right there”, you whined, your shyness having diminished completely as the feeling of his tongue took over your body. His tongue slipped away from your pussy to allow him to speak.

“Call me daddy, okay baby?”, he asked softly. Although you felt slightly shy and hesitant to obey his request, your mind still seemed to allow the words to fall from your lips before you could stop yourself.

“Daddy, I need your tongue back on me again, please, please, I need it so bad”, you pleaded, your head rocking back once his tongue made contact with your pussy. Using his lips, he starting sucking harshly on your clit.“Oh, fuck daddy”, you moaned, your mind almost couldn’t believe the words that were coming from your body. Your hips jolted up towards his face, sensitive to the feeling of being touched so intimately by someone as gorgeous as Chan.

“That’s it. Not so shy anymore, hm?”, he moaned back against your pussy with a smile. You shook your head in response, too immersed in the feeling to care how desperate you sounded.

You looked angelic, he thought to himself. He couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from the sight laid out before him. Your eyes were shut and your back arched ever so slightly towards the ceiling. Your hand maintained its grip on his hair while you couldn’t keep your head from rolling back. You were savouring every little thing you possibly could from this moment, from the way Chan’s tongue occasionally slipped its way into your pussy, to the little moans that escaped his lips every time you rolled your hips against his face.

“Daddyy, please don’t stop”, you whined once you felt his lips place themselves on your clit, sucking harshly once again. You rocked your hips against his face, causing him to roll his eyes at how much he were enjoying this.

He braced himself by gripping onto your thighs with one hand as he brought the other up to slip his ring and middle finger into your wet cunt. You gasped loudly, the intensity of both his lips on your clit and fingers on you becoming almost too much for you to handle.

You had never felt this way before. You couldn’t even fathom what it was that you were feeling - Chan’s mouth and fingers had you completely dumb. You did the only thing your mind could tell yourself to do, and that was to wrap your free leg around his head to grind your cunt against his face, approaching desperately close to your high.

“Ah, I think I’m gonna cum, fuck”, within a second, Chan hummed as his fingers sped up inside of you, eager to make you cum all over his face. He so desperately wanted to be the first one to make you cum, so hard that you were seeing stars. He wanted to be the only one who could make you this wet, the only one who knew how to properly satisfy your tight little pussy - he belonged to you. He felt his head turn into mush knowing he was seconds away from achieving this. “Daddy, I’m gonna cum-”

“Cum for me then, baby. Cum for daddy”, he replied, moaning into your pussy as his fingers fucked themselves into you at a rough pace.

Your voice broke as you felt an intense wave of pleasure crash over you, one you never could’ve imagined before today. You almost took pity on Chan with how hard you were gripping onto his hair, but there was no way in hell you were going to even attempt to hold back now. The shock that had erupted your body seemed to wipe your mind away from any coherent thoughts or sounds, you yourself couldn’t understand the sounds coming from your mouth. All your mind couldcomprehend was the occasional “Fuck”, followed by a strained moan falling from your lips.

“There you go, baby. Such a good girl for daddy. You did so well”. You felt your chest rising a thousand times a minute as your mind struggled to comprehend Chan’s praises. It was only several minutes later when you finally felt yourself beginning to calm down, finally able to catch your breath.

“Damn, that was so fucking hot”, he smirked as he brought his fingers up to suck off some of your essence, humming at the taste of you.

Before you could follow along with what was happening, you felt Chan lift himself off of you and reach over to grab his t-shirt so he could clean you up as much as his energy would allow. His own mind was clouded, the intensity of your orgasm along with your roughness had affected even him. All he thought, was how much he wanted to do that all over again, as soon as you allowed him to.

[cosmereplay]

I have half-formed thoughts about WaT I wanna write down before I forget. So I think the three MCs of the first half of Stormlight, Kaladin, Shallan, and Dalinar, each highlight one of the three oaths of the Knights Radiant--Life before death (Kaladin), Strength before weakness (Shallan), Journey before destination (Dalinar). Their journeys through the first five books highlight both the strengths of those oaths and their limits/drawbacks.

Kaladin chooses to live over and over again during tough times, and that's inspiring! But he's so dedicated to that oath that he will choose to live forever if given the opportunity. Given how the Heralds and Fused (and even people like Hoid) are doing, it seems like life over death Every Time might be a bad idea actually. (There's also the idea that Life before death doesn't specify a quality of life, which is another thorny issue I won't get into here)

Shallan chooses strength to cover up her weaknesses, and the idea that you can fake it till you make it is really inspiring! But she uses strengths that shouldn't have been used--using her power and privilege to brute force her way through situations and step on others, leveraging the power of denial to ignore her problems, and focusing on her talents (like lightweaving) to the detriment of learning new skills (like soulcasting).

Dalinar chooses journey over destination every time! He overcomes his doubts that he can recover by taking it one day at a time, and that's really inspiring! But when applied to other situations, like making unilateral decisions on behalf of Alethkar in escalating situations, or using threats of physical force to "inspire" Thaylenah to join the Coalition, each individual choice leads to an outcome that could have been predicted. Dalinar slowly usurps the throne from Elhokar, and the Coalition easily becomes shaken when built on a foundation of fear. Even when he breaks his oaths to show a lesson to Honor's power, he's thinking "I'm going to force the other Shards into dealing with this" and he doesn't consider the long term impact of his choice.

Throughout the front half, and especially in Wind and Truth, we start to really see the cracks, the weaknesses of the Immortal Words as well as the weaknesses of the Shards that founded those words. I'm absolutely fascinated to see where this is going to go in the back half, which Brandon has been affectionately calling the Voidlight Archive...

Dare I say we will learn about the strengths of Odium's power (we've already learned some of the weaknesses)? Or Retribution's? Will Honor remember creating the Knights Radiant and try to recreate them with Passion/Hatred as a co-founder instead of Growth? Will Ba-Ado-Mishram, perhaps? Ahhh so excited to see how this is going to play out...

[naomi-nana]

hihi!! I was so happy to find out that u write for kaiju n8 and was wondering if u could write something for narumi ?? it can be whatever idm ^_^

✎ᝰ. captain of the dense division .

narumi is head over heels for you. but, being the oblivious person that you are, you never really noticed. sigh, fine, he can always do something to make you know of his feelings, right?

featuring : narumi gen

cw : gn!reader, you are a platoon leader in this, fluff, narumi is a loser in love, might be slightly ooc, bad grammars, u two are childhood friends, i spent too much time on this, slow burn?? not sure, i got a little lazy at the end. (wc: 1,8k)

a/n : so. it's been. months...😔 anon i hope u dont rot waiting in the inbox like that.. and i hope you'd like this, too! ヾ(≧▽≦*)o

narumi is pissed.

and frankly, no one's surprised—not with the amount of time he had an argument with hasegawa about meetings and duty. but this time, it's not about that. because when narumi exits his office willingly without having to get dragged by the vice captain—eyes sharp, steps heavy—hasegawa is bewildered.

"i don't know what happened, but you seem eager to go and train with the others. is this the end of times?" the vice captain raises his eyebrow in confusion. narumi only scoffs at that.

"heh, is it really that rare for it to happen? i'm the captain, after all. i gotta set examples."

"yes. it's very rare—too rare. in fact, i'm starting to think you got possessed." hasegawa sighs but didn't protest further. oh well, who is he to complain? at least he doesn't have to go out of his way to drag narumi out of the office. he thinks that this is a great first step to the guy becoming a better captain.

what's happening in narumi's head, though, is strikingly different compared to what hasegawa thinks.

he bought a new pomade, a new cologne, and even got a new pair of shoes to walk around in—something that he rarely spends his money on, just to impress you. and you haven't blushed at the spectacular sight of him at all. not even once. heck, you even avoid his gaze when he looks at you.

why?! is he not attractive enough?! and even if that is the case to you, then that must mean you're blind! not that he'd care that much, of course. maybe just a little. probably. besides, narumi knows very well how people in the first division look at him—with respect, awe, and admiration.

so, why is it that whenever you talk to him, you always look at him as if he's a regular civilian and not japan's strongest?

he grits his teeth in annoyance before muttering under his breath, "tch, what went wrong..?!" and, to be honest, hasegawa would like to know, too. because narumi hasn't moved a single inch from his position in the doorway. if anyone were to pass by the two right now, they'd think narumi is insane.

"ooh, vice captain hasegawa! and captain narumi, too!"

narumi snapped out of his thoughts the moment he heard a familiar voice. it's you. you?! wait, he's not ready yet! his entire posture stiffened for a second, like his soul was just yanked away from his body. he immediately looked away, avoiding your gaze.

"platoon leader... why're you not training yet, ay?" he blurted out, intentionally making his voice sound ominous. "are ya tryin' to slack off? huh? huh?? that's not good, ya know..." he scolded you while staring at the ground—one hand dramatically covering his left eye like some kind of a middle school villain.

you physically cringed at the sight. "vice captain, what's with him?"

"i don't know. don't associate me with him."

narumi purses his lips as he mentally beat himself up for acting so childish. why did he even do that? now you'll think he's weird and creepy! what if you take a picture of this and post it online, too? now everyone's going to think he's weird and creepy!

he quickly thought of a way to save himself from the embarrassment:

a) composes himself and tell you to never mention this to anyone. b) act nonchalant and walk to the training ground. c) apologize for acting weird. d) flee

and of course, being the responsible captain of the first divison he is, narumi chooses to—"woah! captain, wait up!" you try to reach out to grab narumi's hand, but he was way faster than you. "... he ran away." you mutter to yourself while looking at narumi's back.

"he said he was going to train, but that's not even the direction of the training ground." hasegawa places his hands on his hips like a disappointed mother. really, why can't narumi just be a good example for once?

"awh, i was gonna give these to him ..." you sighed, clutching the brown paper bag tighter in your hands. hasegawa quirks a brow. "oh, i didn't notice it earlier. but," he points. "what is that in your hands?"

"hm? ah, i... bought a few donuts earlier. and i wanted to give these to him. but it seems like he didn't even want to talk to me..." you mutter lowly in disappointment. maybe you shouldn't give these to him after all? "...oh." hasegawa's mouth curls into a small smile.

"oh?" you repeat.

"i can't believe there's one more dense people in this division."

"w-what do you mean?"

"you should go ahead and search for narumi."

narumi crouched behind the medical department, face buried in his hands. why did he even go all the way from his office to here anyway? so stupid. he shouldn't have ran away like that.

"gaah, this is so stupid. i did all that and for what?" his shoulders slumped in shame. he assumed you thought that he was embarrassing before. but now? it's dead end. you probably also think he's weird.

"now they're not gonna give me a chance ..."

"who's not gonna give you a chance?"

he quickly straightens his posture upon hearing your voice, though he immediately regrets the motion—because now his back hurts like hell. "you! uh, i mean ... you. why'd ya keep showing up wherever i am? stalking me or something?" he narrows his eyes. "if you want my autograph, you could've—"

his words were interrupted when he felt a sense of warmth on his cheek. it was a brown paper bag, and it smelled like donuts. "sorry for startling you, captain. but i bought a few donuts for you, and i didn't want it to go cold without you taking a bite from it."

"donuts?" he finally looked at you in the eyes, his head tilted curiously. when you nodded at his words, he scoffed lightly. "... 'm not some type of kid who'll forgive you if you give me food, y'know." he muttered lowly. forgive? what did you even do?

"i know you're not a kid. you look old enough to have kids."

"huh? i'm actually still pretty young, thank you very much."

you two stared at each other in silent before you laughed. this interaction felt so ridiculous—it reminded you of that one time you sneaked out of the orphanage with narumi to buy a new game. "why are you acting all awkward with me? we used to be friends, you know."

"i'm not acting all awkward! i'm acting pretty normal." he scowls at you, though the corner of his eye twitches at the word 'used'. are the two of you not friends anymore? he admits that you rarely spend time together due to the difference in ranks. but still, what is he to you?

"sooo—are you not gonna say something?" you whistled, breaking the awkward silence once again.

"what're you trying to say?" he furrowed his brows.

"i'm trying to get you to say something."

narumi exhales sharply, like he's forcing words that got stuck halfway up his throat. his voice is lower now as he looks away from you. "... i don't know if all that fight with kaijus made you dumb or what," he lets out a breathless laugh when you gasp dramatically. "but is it that hard to notice?"

"i got a new cologne. even got new shoes." he paused, still not looking at you. though when his scowl turned into a pout, you can't help but let out a snort. "what's funny?! i'm getting in my feels here."

"pfft, sorry. you kinda look like a kid there. congrats about your new stuff, though." you mockingly mimicked his pout, making his ears flush red in embarrassment. "shut up. thought you said i'm old enough to have kids ... ehem, anyways. what i'm tryin' to say is, i did all that for you."

"for me?"

"yeah." he finally looks at you now. "but you still talked to me like i'm some loser in the neighborhood. like i'm not your captain. like i ain't japan's strongest." he takes a step forward. his voice may sound harsh and stern, but his face is a deep shade of red.

narumi isn't one to be vulnerable about his feelings. even you, his childhood friend, never really see his true side. so, to see him getting this worked up over something makes you feel a little guilty for whatever you did to him.

"but y'know what annoys me most? that it bothers me. you, not noticing me at all. it's getting to my head, and we're not even high schoolers anymore." he clenches his fist, "and i'd rather die than saying this again, so you better listen to me."

"i like you."

"i like you so much, it's messing with my head. i keep losing in my games, can't sleep right, or fight without trying to make sure you're okay. or something." he confessed, though his gaze was anywhere but on you. narumi is trying everything to not break from how embarrassingly childish this confession was, and you can see it clearly with how he keeps fiddling with his own thumbs.

"so if you're gonna reject me, do it now. i'll get over it easily anyway. eventually, maybe. probably."

your response, however, confuses narumi even more. "pfft—bwahaha! you.. you like me? narumi gen, the strongest there is, likes me? a platoon leader?" you continue to laugh at his confession, irritating narumi.

"so what if i do?!"

"haha ... huft, i mean, it's not like you weren't obvious about it." you stopped laughing once you saw his face contort into that of despair. "you suddenly walked into training one day with a new watch on your wrist, new shoes, and you smelled like a perfume shop. it's very easy to guess that you're trying to impress someone."

he crosses his arms, giving you a look that says, 'so what?'. you smile at the sight. "though i'd never guess that 'that someone' would be me. i'm very honored, you know. to have caught the gaze of japan's strongest."

"you should be."

"sigh, you and your ego ..."

"so, is that it? not gonna give me a speech about how you're disgusted by me or something? well, that's not possible, actually. i'm so good looking that flowers bloom everywhere i go." now this time, it's your turn to scowl at him. how can someone be so bad at flirting and also dense at the same time?

"are you stupid?" you quipped.

"hey, there's no need to call me stupid! you were the one who—"

"i like you too, idiot."

.

.

bonus:

ping!

narumi : do you at least liked the cologne? narumi : i spent 8k yen on it 😕 you : girl sybau 😭💔

naomi-nana. do NOT repost, do not use (with or without permission), do not recommend or talk about my works outside of tumblr.

[00lunect]

★JD with Braces: Take 6★

Translation:

At night…

JD (in thought): I feel ridiculous… I better get some ice cream and go back to bed…

So, here we have the official Take 6! ✧⁠◝⁠(⁠⁰⁠▿⁠⁰⁠)⁠◜⁠✧. It was originally going to be a different scene, but after a minor scare where I thought the drawing had been deleted, only for me to recover the sketches by the grace of God, I decided that this new replacement drawing would be Take 6, while the original Take 6 will become Take 7.

And yes, I know not much happens in this Take and that the only character we have is JD, but I wanted to use this Take to practice some things and pose others. The practice would be in the facial expressions. I wanted to try making some different faces because I feel like the characters don't express themselves enough in my art, so I did this mirror thing. I also wanted to try making JD have a slightly more prominent beard. I honestly don't know if I nailed it. I really need to figure out how to improve the facial hair. (⁠─⁠.⁠─⁠|⁠|).

But anyway, I'll talk about the technical part when we're done. Because it's time to talk about the Lore! (⁠ﾉ⁠◕⁠ヮ⁠◕⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠*⁠.⁠✧

So, yeah, this scene, while simple, shows something new that JD will have to deal with now that he has Braces: his appearance. It doesn't exactly seem like it, but JD actually cares about his looks to some extent. I mean, he WAS in a boy band. Of course, looks are important to him! And look, he's aware that he might not be the most good-looking of his siblings. He's not physically handsome or cute like his younger brothers, and he's not exactly the charming type in personality either, but he always made an effort to have something to offer in the looks department and live up to boy band standards. He cared a lot about his hygiene and physical health (visible physical health, which is why he postponed getting his braces several times, as he didn't think they would look very good), just keeping some tiredness and dark circles under his eyes from staying up late practicing new choreography or writing songs in his teens at bay. However, those were things easily fixed with a little makeup. Nothing he couldn't keep at bay.

But when he left the Tree, he stopped worrying about those things too much. It wasn't exactly necessary for him to look good anymore, because who was going to see him? Who was going to judge him? His plan was to spend time in the forest with a bunch of animals and explore the Neverglades at his leisure, so aside from avoiding dying or eating something poisonous, he stopped paying attention to his appearance. His little brothers weren't there to watch him go days without a bath and imitate him when he rolled in the mud, and there weren't any fans who would start gossiping or saying nasty things just because his armpits smelled.

Of course, JD wasn't a complete pig. He still maintained a minimum level of hygiene (what was possible in the middle of the forest), trying to bathe when he could and keeping his hair clean and combed. He also tried to brush his teeth occasionally, but only had enough toothpaste for a few weeks before he had to improvise with other things and then the whole underbite issue came to kick him in the ass two or three years later. However, things like his clothes, hairstyle, and even hair removal were left aside. He didn't mind walking around with his clothes all ripped and torn (as long as they served the purpose of covering him and protecting him from cuts and heatstroke), his hair badly cut with his machete, and his beard growing out, only shaving when it got too hot or bothered him. When he returned to the Troll Tree and believed his brothers were dead, this continued. He spent most of his time in the Neverglades and rarely traveled to civilization to look for things, so many Trolls saw him as a kind of oddball wanderer who came around from time to time. At most, his appearance became halfway decent when he got new, more weather-resistant clothes, and only because his old ones were already in tatters.

However, when he received the letter from V&V about Floyd's rescue, he got a bit more motivated about his appearance. At first, he was going to go find his little brother, as hairy as his body had been, but after looking in the mirror when he went back inside Rhonda's to finish brushing his teeth and get going, it occurred to him that the extra hair might make it difficult for his little brother to recognize him as John Dory. The truth was, the beard made him look even more like a different Troll, so he shaved like he hadn't done in years while Rhonda took him to Mount Rageous, and thus ended up with the appearance Floyd had given him at the diamond.

After the rescue and reuniting with his brothers again and of course being more present in civilization, John Dory continued shaved his beard often because he no longer wanted to be that wild, mangy troll who lived in the Neverglades. He bathed more often and started using more deodorant (yes, he'd stopped using it completely before, but when he had Rhonda, he started using a little again because his favorite girl had a sensitive nose), and he also started styling his hair properly to at least look presentable. Sure, he didn't groom himself as much as he had in his boy band days, and unsurprisingly, his younger brothers looked MUCH better than him, but he still put effort into his look and anything that people would look at and that he could actively do something about.

This went out the window when he started his dental work.

It's not that he neglected his hygiene again, no. It's just that things like shaving and styling his hair became exhausting once the pain in his mouth became unbearable, even with the medication. Once he was put on bed rest after his braces were installed, he no longer had the will or energy to try to fix himself. He was just exhausted and in pain all the time, and the only thing he could really do for himself was escape from his brothers when it was time to take his medicine and brush his teeth as instructed after every meal.

He also hadn't seen himself much after his braces were installed. The Bunker didn't really have many mirrors, except for the one in the bathroom, but JD didn't look in that thing much when he brushed his teeth. However, after some of the brothers settled inside the Bunker and Bruce started visiting occasionally, they put a slightly larger mirror in an empty spot for anyone who needed to check themselves out. JD walked past it a lot, but he didn't look at himself in it either until one night a week or two after he got his braces.

Once again, he'd snuck out to steal ice cream from the refrigerator. Even after taking his painkillers, JD couldn't sleep and his swollen face was throbbing, so he went in search of something comforting. Along the way, he stumbled upon the mirror again, and that's when he finally looked at himself.

And he looked terrible. His beard was starting to grow back, his hair was a mess, his bags under his eyes were so dark he could see them even in the dark hallway, and his face was unpleasantly puffy and flushed with pain. He looked like shit, just like he felt. But seeing it and analyzing it was a real blow to himself. Seeing himself as a piece of sh!t made him feel worse in a way, even if he knew there was nothing he could do about it. He tried, as he had done before, to take it in stride and ignore it. You know, just take the feeling and sweep it under the rug. Still, it wasn't the first time he'd been self-conscious about his appearance.

So he smiled in the mirror to cheer himself up, but immediately regretted it when he saw those stupid braces peeking out. John Dory looked genuinely ridiculous with that mess in his mouth. He looked horrible, it made him LOOK horrible, and it made him FEEL horrible.

He felt embarrassed. And people had seen him like that? Ew.

That really brought his spirits down. In fact, remembering his whole situation brought his spirits down a lot. The pain, the swelling, the tiredness, the bitter taste that still lingered in his mouth from his medications. It only took that small slip in his self-esteem, and suddenly his brain was pummeled with all the stress and exhaustion of the past few days.

And so, in the darkness, JD's colors became a little dull, and he felt sad. He didn't realize his colors, but he did realize what he was feeling. And he was pretty sure he felt a little worse than when he got up, so he decided to get his ice cream right away and go back to bed.

The next day, his brothers noticed he was feeling less energetic than usual, and Branch was the first to notice the dullness of his colors. Obviously, everyone was concerned, but there was nothing wrong with John other than the usual, according to the doctor. The dullness in his colors was simply a delayed response to stress and discomfort, nothing serious. John Dory would be bright again once he got through this phase of his recovery.

…

Probably.

But anyway, that's about it. (⁠・⁠∀⁠・⁠)

Wow, this post was even longer than the last one, haha. I guess I had more to share despite the simplicity of the drawings. Speaking of which, I'm sorry, but when I thought I'd completely deleted the original scene, I felt sad, so to process it, I decided to make the replacement take of John having mild self-esteem issues because I wanted to project my grief of losing my art onto someone, and that someone was John Dory. And you won't believe it (or maybe you will), but I made these drawings in just one day, although I guess it shows. Literally I started the sketches last night and finished them this afternoon, so excuse me if they didn't turn out so well or didn't have much to offer.

Or maybe they did. Actually, this drawing of JD blushing turned out really nice (without the dark layer so his colors can still show up, but I didn't remove the mirror thing. Sorry. XD)

And in case you were wondering or didn't notice, yes, JD loses a bit of color in his drawings. Here's the last image without the dark layer so you can compare.

But don't worry about him! The guy won't lose his colors or anything. It's just his troll biology responding to the whole situation he's in. ಡ⁠ ͜⁠ ⁠ʖ⁠ ⁠ಡ As I said before, he'll eventually be brilliant again once his face stops being a throbbing mass of flesh and his brothers have something to say about it, but that'll come later.

For now, I'll just enjoy making Johnny's life miserable. (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠). And I know you'll enjoy watching it all.

And yes, I made John Dory have some self-esteem issues. It's not something too big that affects him all the time, but it's something that bothers him from time to time. I don't know, it's something I've been thinking about for a while. Like, back in Brozone's time, he was just "The Leader." The guy who led and was in charge, which isn't... much for a character. If you compare him to his other brothers' roles, they had more play in that regard because they had other things to offer within their roles, while John was just the guy who was supposed to guide them. And that's it. For the rest, I like to think the guy had nothing he could give people. His voice was standard for a Troll, his appearance was the same, and he was moderately charismatic and sociable with people. He could write songs, yes, but that could be done by anyone else who didn't necessarily have to sing with them.

They're Trolls, hell, anyone could make a song. So the whole boy band thing seems to me more like... doing a reality show. If that makes sense. It's just listening to what a bunch of normal Trolls sing, but more outlandish to attract people and hook them. And I don't think John Dory would have seen himself as interesting enough for that, even if he came up with the boy band idea. That's why he would have taken the role of Leader, because he was the oldest, and well, it was his duty to take care of his siblings, right? It sounded like something even someone not very interesting like him could do. Because people wouldn't be too interested in him talking about camping or nature, right?

Well, no, so it stayed that way, but deep down, it felt a little weird without anything special. And then the whole looks thing comes down. Part of the idea of a boy band is that everyone is good-looking, right? And forgive me, John Dory fans, but compared to the rest of Brozone and from a Troll perspective (in my opinion), I don't think John is that attractive. XD I mean, I love John Dory and all, but in my headcannons and for the Trolls, John is like that guy you'd find on the corner in the neighborhood trying to fix his perpetually broken-down car. Same with Clay, but even serious, he still has charisma. Plus, anyone would love someone who knows their way around the dance floor.

So Braces JD has a bit of low self-esteem, guys. He's very aware of how he looks these days, and while he usually ignores those feelings, you already know what its like. Those intrusive thoughts are like maggots in rotten flesh. >:v

But anyway, that's all for now, so I hope you enjoyed this new Take. ✧⁠◝⁠(⁠⁰⁠▿⁠⁰⁠)⁠◜⁠✧. Here are Take 1, Take 2, Take 3, Take 4, and Take 5.

Thanks for reading!

[ginnysgraffiti]

Heyyy, can you pls write a fic where you tell Patrick that you want to wait with having sex and how he would react? Btw I loveeee your writing˃͈◡˂͈

sure! ><

PATRICK BATEMAN x yn.

head-canons:

when you first tell him you want to wait before having sex, he assumes he misheard.

“sorry pat, but i’d like to wait before having sex.” you tell him one night, just before he could unhook your night bra lingerie.

no one ever says that to patrick bateman. not really. people imply it, maybe, in desperate gestures of power-play or performance modesty, but no one — no one — has ever said it as plainly and calmly as you do.

at first, it doesn’t even register as rejection — it reads more like a scheduling delay. he blinks once, and says, “of course,” with the same tone he’d use if his stockbroker needed an extra week. he plays it cool. but beneath the tailored exterior, something twitchy begins to spark. not rage — yet— but something sharper, more wounded, something close to confusion. why would you choose not to want him? do you not see him? do you not understand?

later that night.

he doesn’t call. doesn’t text. he sits in the dark of his apartment, the city skyline glowing cold through the glass, his reflection twitching faintly in the window as the beatles play faintly on vinyl. his tie is still on. his shoes, still polished. he doesn’t move.

for a full ten minutes he contemplates the idea of jerking off on the couch, or call sabrina for simple meaningless relief, but he does not act on his thoughts.

his mind wanders in doubt, insult, perversion, obsession. he wants to dissect you. emotionally, intellectually. physically? maybe. what are you hiding behind that refusal? is it fear? a tactic? principle?

he grips his wine glass so hard it cracks. the stain on his shirt is immediate, and he doesn’t flinch.

he wonders if you’re making him earn you.

and, god help him, part of him likes that.

instead of pushing, he redirects.

if you’re not ready for sex, then fine. he’ll seduce you psychologically. he’ll become indispensable in every other way. you’ll wake up to espresso machines he’s had delivered to your doorstep. he’ll mail you obscure first-edition books he heard you mention once. he’ll take you to art galleries and stand behind you, too close, while you describe the colors. if you can’t be his physically, you’ll still be his object. he would come over to your place to spend time with you, making sure to take off his valentino jacket in the most seductive way possible. he’d apply the cologne you go crazy for, and he would strategically undo his belt after he’s finished the dinner you cooked just to see your reaction.

during the nights you agree on sleeping at his place, he would enter the bedroom unbuttoning his shirt, revealing his toned abs to you, his veins visible enough to mark significantly his biceps and hands, and yes, he even skipped work hours to hit the gym extra hours just for you to see the results.

and more than that, he starts to notice a twisted craving in himself — something foreign. patience. or something like it. it frightens him, because it means you’re not like the others. and if you’re not like them, then maybe — maybe — he has to be someone else with you. someone better. or worse.

what he doesn’t say (and doesn’t know how to) is that the longer you make him wait, the more he wants you to ruin him.

not just physically — though, yes, that too — but metaphysically. he imagines what it will mean, what it will feel like, if he’s allowed to touch you. if you’ll only let him. he dreams about it in fragments. your voice. your hands. your breath hitching because of him, not fear, not obligation, but desire. and it makes something hurt.

not just in his body, but in that vestigial place in him that rarely moves.

when he falls asleep beside you after a night of no touching, he doesn’t say a word. but his eyes stay open far longer than yours. watching. waiting. (ok patrick, that’s creepy).

when you fall asleep beside him, warm and untouched, he finally starts to understand sex.

there’s something almost too good in being allowed near you without taking anything. without being permitted to devour. he finds a kind of power in restraint. a perverse ecstasy in not having.

because it means there’s still something to reach for. he notices with fear that he still wants you —even tho he never had sex with you — he still appreciates your presence more than anything else. so what is sex then, if he already feels comfortable around you? that could only mean that sex is a way to get even closer to you, to your soul, to everything you are, bare and vulnerable, and not just skin to abuse.

[lilacprincess7]

hi! could you please write a story where the reader is not used to physical displays of affection, while Gavi can't live without hugs and stuff (friends to lovers).

Love language

summary: more or less what the req said, the friends to lovers isn't shown much because I felt like it would be better developed if I wrote about established relationship

a/n: really like this req, it's so him

It was true that you weren’t one for showing love through touch. Yes you liked the occasional hug or cuddles post sex bad that was about it. That all changed when you started dating your now boyfriend.

Pablo was an extremely touchy person. You didn’t mind it, you just weren’t used to it. At first, he was hesitant to show you his true nature regarding physical touch. In the end of the day, your relationship was still fresh, recently official, even though you had been dating for three months or so.

That’s how you found yourself sitting on his living room, with him sitting across from you, a serious look on his face.

“Amor, we need to talk about something of extreme importance to me”

“Go on then baby, do explain”

“I just need to tell you that I’m extremely affectionate and I will totally understand if you don’t feel okay with it or don’t want that kind of intimacy. I just wanted you to know”

“Oh baby I know. I admit I’m not used to it but I enjoy your touches! I really do! I’m just not familiar with it all that much so it might take me some time to catch up… That doesn’t mean I don’t want it!”

"I- okay. Just you know-tell me if you don't feel comfortable with me doing it or whatever okay?" he said hesitantly

Instead of answering, you reached for his hand slowly and caressed it. He leaned into it -as he always did-. You went and hugged him. You needed him to understand that the fact you weren't used to it didn't mean you weren't comfortable with his touches.

On the contrary. You felt like his touches were something sacred. On the nights he was gone for away games you felt something lacking and it wasn't his mere presence. It was also his hugs and kisses and gentle fingers on your arms, around your waist, that skin against skin.

Back on the present, Pablo hugged back easily.

"You sure you don't have a problem with me being a-a nuisance?" he asked, vulnerability showing on his voice.

"Amor, I love you. And I love how you show me you love me too. Before you, I wasn't used to hugs and cuddles and now I feel like I'm starved of them when you are away! You are no nuisance baby, you are my other half!" you replied seriously, kissing his cheek and running your hands on his torso.

"I-okay just-"

"No just. Let's put a movie on and cuddle okay? I think you changed my love language... Wait is that even a thing?" you rumbled a bit as you arranged some of the pillows of the sofa so you could settle down and watch a movie.

He chuckled in response. Your reaction made him feel so wanted. Pablo realized just how important he was to you. He understood also how much of an impact he had on you and he liked it.

For the rest of the night, the two of you just sat there. In each others' arms. You felt so at ease here, with him, his hands on your waist. You always felt trapped sitting like this with people. You felt like you were in a cage. This hug though, his hug, was anything but a cage. It screamed protection and love and affection and a ton of other things words could never be enough to explain and convey.

it's a bit short 😪

[enigmaticexplorer]

Another reblog immediately brightens my day! And seeing you apologize for writing such lengthy comments makes me know I'm in for a VERY good time!

(And now I must give my obligatory apology for writing so much. But I was having so much with fun your comments--and this was such a big chapter in regard to taking next steps forward in their relationship!)

Wolffe coming to take her out. And being so prepared for all of her questions and protests. I love him. He knew exactly what he needed to square away beforehand so she would be willing to go. He pays such close attention to her, I love it.

I like to think that he runs through possible Kazi arguments in his head, prepares multiple counterarguments, and then approaches her. 😂

They're so similar, studying each other, trying to figure the other one out, what makes them tick, etc. It's like part of their love language, noticing things, being observant, caring about each other.

Exactly! They're both hyper-aware, and Kazi especially likes to watch other people for their "tells" because she doesn't trust her emotional judgment. Wolffe is much more emotionally intelligent than Kazi, at this point in the story, so his observations about her support his working thesis that she's in love with him. And Kazi is the opposite: because she notices these small things about Wolffe and really knows him, but then when it comes to figuring out how he feels about her, she just tosses all those observations out the window because she thinks she's over exaggerating or making them up haha.

Was he going to say something about how he's cared for a lot longer than that? Maybe even that's he's loved her longer than that?

You nailed it! What I love about your reblogs (other than seeing your thoughts!) is being able to reread parts of this story and remember the little cues from Wolffe.

And again...was he thinking about her? Being there with her has made him feel more alive than ever before?

Yes! It's a bunch of things! He's starting to realize that he can have that life that he always wanted (fall in love, share his life with someone), and that his misguided belief that he'll never amount to anything more than being a clone is untrue, and that he can rest, that he doesn't have to keep fighting.

I interpreted that as Wolffe is now part of her family. Maybe they were meant to be two separate thoughts, but I like thinking that she considers him family, so that's what I'm going with. ;)

You're absolutely right! Kazi views Wolffe and his brothers as family!

We already know that Wolffe had told her she could join him for a shower anytime she wanted. (I think I'm remembering correctly, right? That already happened at least once, when he offered that...)

Yes! This is a continuation of that! Wolffe is just constantly dropping shower hints haha. But I also like to think that he viewed the shower as a more "safe" space. It's not a bed, so there's no "expectation" for sex. A shower is one step forward: being naked with each other. You can have sex, or you can not have sex. But there's still this progress forward in the physical relationship of being able to be naked with each other without putting that expectation of sex that might make Kazi take a step back.

And he was NOT going to fuck around and waste one more second! Yes, king!

Emphasis on not wasting another second! I've said this before, but Wolffe wants to have sex with Kazi. It's something he's really interested in. (And I want it to be clear that he's not only interested in her for sex. It's just something he wants to experience with her, and he's been looking forward to experiencing that level of physical intimacy with her because it's a more proof that she trusts him--which is what he wants: her trust.) Anyway, I like to think that in this moment, he's overcome with relief and excitement and general happiness that she's trusting him with this next step. And he is not going to waste any time! He wants to be touching her, and kissing her, and being able to explore her body in this new way and he has to do it now.

The way he just looked at her as she was on the bed...ADMIRING! And I feel like I recall her thinking or mentioning at one point that maybe she thought her body wasn't as appealing as maybe some other women's bodies. Hers was more muscular maybe, slender, maybe not curvy. So I feel like she had some body image issues (I'm sorry if I'm remembering incorrectly and putting my own shit into this.) But she's probably a little surprised at how he's looking at her. HER body. Not some other woman's body, but hers. As if it was all he ever wanted, no one else, just her. And he loved the way SHE looked.

YES YES YES. You remembered correctly about her body insecurities! And I'm also glad you like the word "admiring" because it's my favorite thing to imagine in this moment: that look on Wolffe's face! Every person deserves to be looked at that way! And, I like to think that Kazi is doing the exact same to Wolffe: admiring his appearance, too! And from Wolffe's perspective, she's probably blushing from arousal and utter admiration for him, and staring at him in a way that's obsessed and practically drunk with affection.

The "I understand" was HUGE. It was almost like he didn't even care. I know, you are not ready for sex. I know that. But how about THIS. Can I fuck you with my fingers?

This is probably my favorite sex scene I've ever written because of how communicative Wolffe was! Asking these questions without assuming what she wanted, understanding that she would have some reservations--I really, really wanted to emphasize the communication in this. I enjoy fics where sex is this easy, intuitive thing where everything goes right! But I wanted something just a bit more close to home, for me, and that was the communication and checking in and establishing boundaries and still taking things slow even when they're naked together.

It's huge. But he's trying to keep it casual for her. They're just hanging out here, making out, nothing big to worry about, like he was trying to keep her calm and at ease.

Yes! And keep her out of her head! By asking these questions, by showing interest in getting her off, by taking "control" in a way, he's really showing her that she can trust him. That she can turn her brain off for this moment. That everything will be fine and they'll figure things out. Whatever happens, if it's not enjoyable or they need to try other things, they're going to figure it out.

And when she realized he was jerking off...I couldn't breathe and I had chills. He was so turned on by her and making her feel good, he couldn't help but find release.

I know that in lots of fics, we want men who can last a long time, and those stories are great. But I really, really like it when men come fast because they're so turned on by their partner, or when they're so attracted to their partner's pleasure that it gets them off. I can't remember where it happens, but at some point in this story, I talk about Wolffe coming in his underwear after going down on Kazi, and I get it--it's not everyone's cup of tea--but it's my favorite thing. And I liked for this scene that Kazi was watching him for a moment, and it turns him on even more that he sees how attracted she is to him finding pleasure. And that she wants him to teach her what makes him feel good. All around a good time haha.

And then sometimes, it's Kazi. Is it Kazi when he's feeling more emotional or more intimate, more personal? Or is there not a deeper meaning to that other than sometimes he says one and sometimes he says the other?

Wolffe likes to call her by her last name as a nickname! No one else calls her that, and at first, he used it as a distancing tactic. Back when they were not friends and she was using her fake last name (Lucien). He was mad that she'd lied to him and his brothers (this was back when they mistrusted each other) so he used her real last name to show that he knew it, and that she hadn't outsmarted him. And then it became this affectionate thing, like saying "sweetheart" or "darling." He loves calling her "Ennari." But, in very vulnerable moments, he likes to use "Kazi." So you were right--there is a deeper meaning to when he uses it!

And I'm glad you liked the ending! Their teasing, Wolffe understanding her need for space--always taking baby steps forward!

I Yearn, and so I Fear - Chapter XX

Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

General Summary. Nearly a year since the Galactic Empire’s rise to power, Kazi Ennari is trying to survive. But her routine is interrupted—and life upended—when she’s forced to cohabitate with former Imperial soldiers. Clone soldiers. 

Pairing. Commander Wolffe x female!OC

General Warnings. Canon-typical violence and assault, familial struggles, terminal disease, bigotry, explicit sexual content, death. This story deals with heavy content. If you’re easily triggered, please do not read. For a more comprehensive list of tags, click here.

Fic Rating. E (explicit)/18+/Minors DNI.

Chapter Word Count. 6.1K

A Like without a Reblog will result in an automatic block.

24 Relona

A sprout, so pale in its orange it looked white, crested the soil of the pot—a burst of the sun before it began a new day. Sometime between this morning’s watering and this evening’s, the bud decided it was time to experience life outside the comforting coolness of its soil. 

Kazi thumbed the little sprout. “Hi, buddy.”

The sprout mushed, its fuzzy bulb tickling, and she slowly retracted her hand, not wanting to accidentally kill it. She watered the soil, mindful to hydrate the sprout without drowning it, and then leaned back on her haunches. 

A look through the sunroom’s windows revealed her sister on the wraparound porch. She wanted to show Daria her sprout. Out of anyone, her sister would understand the significance of this moment. 

However, Daria was enjoying the comfortable heat of the evening, peeling beans for tonight’s dinner. Matches sat beside her, helping. Based on Daria’s stained cheeks, the demolitions expert was telling her a crude story. Kazi decided not to interrupt. It was more amusing watching her sister’s strained smiles and encouraging nods as Matches laughed at something he said. 

Beyond the porch, seated among an elder tree’s roots, Nova and Hound talked. Tree foliage provided ample shade to hide their expressions. Based on the article she found Nova reading yesterday, she assumed he would be working with Hound for the foreseeable future.

A sharp command rang through the cracked-open windows. 

“Again,” Fox said. 

Wiping at her forehead, Neyti glared at Fox. 

“Don’t give me that look.” Fox crossed his arms over his chest. “You can do better—you will do better. Again.”

Huffing her frustration, Neyti faced Cody, lifted her balled fists, and lunged for the man’s hand. One jab with her left hand, a quick feint with the right, and a final punch with the left. Her knuckles collided with Cody’s palm. His smile was soft with encouragement. Neyti looked to Fox.

“Better,” Fox said. He assessed Neyti for a moment and then motioned to the table where Daria and Matches sat. “Get some water.”

With a satisfied nod, Neyti waltzed through the backyard’s ferns, plopping into an open chair and accepting a glass of water from Daria. Another glass went to Cody, who squeezed Daria’s shoulder. 

Kazi looked Neyti over once, confirmed the little girl was well, and then returned her attention to Fox. His black shirt clung to his skin, and sweat slicked his curls back. He’d spent the entire afternoon working on his project, the fallen tree finally taking shape.

Its shape bewildered Kazi, though. She didn’t understand why Fox was building a—

“You have a nice set up.”

Kazi flinched, glancing over her shoulder. Court stood beneath the sunroom’s partition, still dressed in the same black jumpsuit the men had found him in. At least it looked tighter and crisper, freshly washed.

“Thank you,” Kazi said, regaining her feet and dusting her hands together. Court regarded her, his head tilted in assessment. Nonplussed, she cleared her throat. “You know, you don’t have to stay inside, if you don’t want to. There’s a lake, and the jungle is full of hiking trails.”

A dismissive nod preceded his approach, and he surveyed those outside. “How often do you work?”

Studying his side-profile, the reddish hue of the setting sun set the whites of his eyes on fire, Kazi hedged, “I work a normal schedule.” 

He was silent, unblinking, and she glanced at the elder tree where Nova sat, wondering if Court needed to talk to someone. Needed…help. Then again, he held himself with a stable composure, seemingly collected and unaffected, rather than a man facing a potential mental collapse. 

“Are you interested in getting a job?” Kazi asked.

His lips twitched. “We’ll all need one. What do the former commanders do?”

She waved toward the windows. “They work these missions.”

“And their income? Where does their pay come from?”

“Most likely their contact.” Moving toward the game table, she pretended to tidy Wolffe’s puzzle, an attempt to create distance. Maybe she was being rude, too wary, but she couldn’t muster the shame to care. “But I don’t actually know. If you’re interested in joining them, I would talk to them about it. I can get Wolffe—”

“I’ll talk to him later.” Court twisted away from the windows. Those deadened eyes fell on her eyes, sharp and probing. “Wolffe said you work for the government. What do you do?”

“I’m an analyst.” Tension curled in her stomach, uncertain as a fog descending on a harbor. “I track military exports.” 

Court didn’t need to know about her private work for the magistrate: the intel she continued to analyze concerning the missing and deserted clones. With the men’s help, Fox’s expertise in slicing especially, the scrubbed and manipulated data had protected their missions. So far.

“You must have a high security clearance.”

“Somewhat.” Kazi shrugged. “The Security Institute was founded less than two years ago. It’s still rudimentary compared to Imperial governances in the Mid and Inner Rims.”

“You work with a band of rogue clones, yet you serve in Imperial forces.” Court took a step in her direction. “Why do they trust you?”

“I may work for the government,” she said slowly, “but that doesn’t mean I support it.”

A twitch overcame Court’s face and he opened his mouth. Soft footfalls interrupted, however, and a moment later, Wolffe appeared. A black work shirt replaced his usual white, the sleeves rolled to his forearms; his usual gray poncho was nestled in the crook of his elbow.  

Inclining his head to Court, Wolffe faced her. “We’re going, Ennari.”

Kazi frowned. “Where?”

“Out.” Wolffe extended his hand. “To dinner.”

“Neyti?”

“Daria said she’ll watch her. Cody is making dinner. And Nova’s setting up his telescope for Neyti to use tonight.” A satisfied smirk, similar to the one Neyti had sported a few minutes ago, completed his smug demeanor. “Any other questions?”

Smiling, she placed her hand in his palm. “Where are we going?”

The red sun burnished the wooden flattops of Hollow’s Town, the sky spired with brilliant orange and creeping navy blue.

Kazi and Wolffe wandered the Marketplace’s walkways, the colorful canopies withdrawn to allow the evening sunshine to warm the stalls. Small crowds loitered on the streets. Wolffe, with his hood drawn, blended in well. 

He was on edge, though, his tells noticeable only because she had studied him so closely for months. A rigid set to his shoulders. A forced casualness to his stroll. An occasional flex in his fingers, even though they were clasped behind his back. 

The Imperial presence was confined to Canopis, at the moment. But Kazi knew, from the blaster strapped to his thigh, Wolffe didn’t trust them to remain in the capital, and he wanted to be prepared. Since he was as obstinate as he was mistrustful, she didn’t suggest they return to the house. Instead, she reached for his hand. 

Warm fingers curled around hers, slow and tentative. A thumb smoothed a light circle to the back of her hand. 

Their stroll slowed and they rounded a corner. 

Strong spices wafted through the air, as palpable as the steam from roasting meat. The crowds here were louder, busier. Kazi leaned into Wolffe, resting her other palm against his bicep. His muscle bunched; his fingers twitched in her hand.

“Neyti spoke to me,” she said. They paused near a stall selling Elucan wine, and Wolffe looked down at her, his eyes widened in surprise. She’d spent the last few days debating whether or not to tell him, but his opinion mattered, and she needed to share it with someone. Someone who understood the importance of this moment without turning it into a lecture or demands for the future. “I wasn’t expecting it.”

“She trusts you,” Wolffe said, eyeing an expensive bottle of white wine. “Has she said anything else?”

“No.” They moved to the next stall. “She was looking at my adventure book when she spoke. That’s how I knew she wanted to go flying the other day. She told me.”

A splinter of darkening sunlight lit Wolffe’s face and the slight curve of his mouth. Her eyes narrowed.

“You have an adventure book?” he asked. A hint of amusement softened his tone.

“Yes.” He huffed a quiet chuckle and she rolled her eyes, fighting the urge to smile. “My mother got it for me when I was young and I filled it with a bunch of photos from my trips at sea.” She paused. “My parents called me their ‘adventurous’ kid. Hence, the name of the book. Real original, I know.”

Ahead, the walkway ended and they exited the Marketplace, aiming for downtown. 

Wolffe kept their pace slower, more idle, as if trying to delay their arrival at the restaurant. “You don’t think you’re adventurous anymore?”

Kazi laughed. “No.”

“Why not?”

“It happens when you get older—you lose interest in stuff like that,” she said. “You mature and realize life is different.”

“Would you think differently if you still lived on Ceaia?” Wolffe’s tone was inscrutable, assessing.

“No, and it doesn’t matter.” She gestured to their surroundings. “I live here now.”

“Do you want to live here?”

“What I want doesn’t matter.” His hand stiffened in hers, and she pursed her lips, sighing. “We’re safe, that’s what matters. And Daria’s medicine and healer are here, and getting Neyti adopted is easier—”

“What?” Halting in the middle of the empty walkway, Wolffe stared at her, brows furrowed and mouth parted. “You’re putting Neyti up for adoption?”

Kazi winced, releasing his arm. “It’s…been one of my goals since we first arrived here.” 

Bewilderment wrinkled his features as he searched her face, and she gritted her teeth, berating herself for being so careless.

“Her application has been processed,” she said. “Now it’s simply a matter of when a family shows interest.”

It was the wrong thing to say, apparently, because Wolffe straightened, his jaw clenching. “You love that little girl, Ennari.”

“That doesn’t matter.” He started to protest and she cut him off. “It doesn’t. I was never meant to be a mother, and Neyti needs someone who is.”

“Why.” The word was flat, harsh like the press of his lips and the glint in his eyes. 

“Because.” Her cheeks warmed and she averted her gaze, shrugging blasely. “I’m not the affectionate, loving type that Neyti needs—that any youngling needs.”

“You’re not…” Wolffe scoffed, his grip around her hand clammy and tight. His face lowered to hers. “Who told you that shit?”

“Wolffe—”

“Who.”

“Stop it.”

The things her mother told her—the things she knew were true—weren’t his concern. And she wasn’t in the mood to humiliate herself in front of him tonight. But Wolffe scowled at her, his demand unwavering. 

“You weren’t here those first two months,” Kazi said stiffly. “You didn’t see her. She lost her mother and that relationship isn’t replaceable.” 

“I’m not arguing it is,” he hissed. “But she needs a mother—”

“Yeah. She does. And I’m not that woman.”

“You can’t give her up—” 

“I’m her caretaker, and I decide what’s best—” 

“And if I want to step up?”

“Don’t say that,” she snapped. His nostrils flared and she gritted her teeth harder. “Neyti is my responsibility, and mine only. Not yours.” She swallowed. “Anyway, we haven’t even been together for a month—” 

“I’ve cared l—” Wolffe faltered. Working his jaw, he regarded her for a long, stilted minute, and then he shook his head. “Don’t be rash.” He clutched her hand harder. “That’s all I’m asking. Something comes up, we talk about it.”

For a pent breath, she considered him. “Fine.” 

Anger still clenched his jaw, and annoyance pinched his mouth, but Kazi refused to cave. 

She meant it, what she said. Wolffe might want to fill a role in Neyti’s life, a role that was needed, but his missions were his primary concern. They came first; she had learned that lesson the hard way. And she wouldn’t allow Neyti to form an attachment only to lose another parent. She wouldn’t allow another little girl to lose her papa. 

Kazi continued along the walkway, and Wolffe fell in step beside her, their hands still interlaced.

“Please don’t tell the others,” she said after a few paces. “Daria doesn’t know. Neyti doesn’t even know, and I don’t want it to get out. It’s possible nothing ever comes of it.”

A heavy sigh heaved from Wolffe. His thumb continued to circle the back of her palm. An instinct. Or afterthought. 

The sun had finally set, the dark blues and grays of a tumultuous sea bathing the horizon.

A group of males, loud and rowdy, strolled toward them. Wolffe tugged her closer and they crossed the street, evening’s shadows casting him as a more imposing figure. 

Stilted silence yawned between them, nearly physical in its discomfort. 

Surveying the darkening sky, Kazi broke the silence. “Why are your brothers teaching Neyti to spar?” 

Wolffe released a low chuckle; some of his tension ebbed away. “We all learned when we were young.”

“Your upbringing was quite different.”

“Learning how to protect yourself is a good skill for anyone to learn.” He gave her a pointed look. “You should learn too. You and Daria.”

“Daria? The one who’s getting weaker and weaker with each passing month?” Her smile lacked mirth, and Wolffe winced, a silent apology in his squeeze of her hand. “I agree it’s a good skill to have. But it’s ultimately pointless. A real soldier will always be able to overpower me.”

“You don’t learn self-defense to win a fight,” Wolffe said. “You learn it so you have a chance to escape and run. To survive.”

“I know.”

“Do you?” Frustration roughened his voice, and they paused on the edge of a walkway, waiting for an aircar to pass. “You’re acting too flippant with your life. I don’t like it.”

She sniffed. “I understand what you’re saying. And I think it’s good that you guys are teaching Neyti.”

He observed her through narrowed eyes, as if debating whether to believe her. “Promise me you’ll fight. If it ever comes to it—promise me you’ll survive.”

“Wolffe—” 

“Kazi.”

The seriousness in his face, the tightness of his grip, told her he wouldn’t drop this. That he cared about this, and that she owed him a truthful answer. 

Holding his gaze, she said, “I promise.”

Signs flickered to life, buttery yellow and warm. People enjoying a meal or drink busied the restaurants and cantinas’ patios. 

They walked in silence. While Wolffe’s quiet was contemplative, Kazi was second-guessing their conversation about Neyti. 

And if I want to step up?

The words were a kindle to that soft glow within her. Dangerous, if she truly analyzed the situation. But she didn’t, avoiding the glow steadily escaping her control, and instead concentrated on tearing apart the question.

Because, really, he had no business suggesting it. They were friends, and they were trying this thing between them, and he didn’t even realize the hurt he would cause when he—

“Do you feel alive?” 

The question yanked her from her thoughts, and she blinked at Wolffe. He was staring straight ahead, the neutrality in his features forcibly apathetic. 

“Do you?” Kazi asked curiously.

Rolling his shoulders back, he shrugged. “Growing up, we were told we were soldiers. Nothing more. Nothing less. We were soldiers. That was it.” 

They paused outside the restaurant, its sign lucent white, and he faced her, his expression guarded. Vulnerable.

“I’m not convinced I’ve known what it feels like to be alive. Outside of basic instinct to survive. I didn’t know that feeling. Even as a boy,” he said, his voice lowering. Hoarsening. “But being here—seeing my brothers safe, the lot of us doing what we want…” His fingers flexed around hers. His gaze remained guarded, and yet it grew softer. Gentler. “I think I’m starting to.”

“You deserve it,” she said. Because he did, and sometimes, she wasn’t convinced he believed it. “To rest. To put yourself first. To go after what you want. You deserve it all, Wolffe.” The evening’s darkness enveloped his face, soft hands holding him, though the restaurant’s white light sharpened his scar. She brushed a finger across his cheek. Just beneath his scarred eye. “You deserve to live.”

He twisted, his lips grazing her palm. “You do too.”

Her smile was weary, similar to the exhaustion he couldn’t seem to shake. They were both trying. 

“Eluca was supposed to be safe,” Kazi muttered.

Setting aside her datapad, she lifted her face to Wolffe. He was hovering behind her, one hand braced on the back of her chair, the other flattened to her desk, while he read over her shoulder.

Both the local news and her private comm line with Fehr and Carinthia lacked information. 

Dinner had been a quiet affair. An assortment of sauteed vegetables, steamed rice, and freshly baked bread filled their stomachs; a glass of whiskey and a mug of Elucan chocolate mush further emphasized the ease of the early night. Whatever tension had survived their conversation on the walkways soon winked out, replaced by blue-white stars winking into existence.

Their soft laughs and relaxed demeanors were ripped away, though, when a military vehicle arrived. Stormtroopers leapt from the vehicle. They stormed the cantina across the street. 

Within three minutes, it was over. Two bloodied males were dragged away.

Kazi had loosed a breath of relief, grateful the two males were the stormtroopers’ targets. Because the moment the black vehicle rumbled onto the street, she’d feared for Wolffe’s life. 

Thought a passerby or patron had reported him. 

Sat, trembling, as she tried to determine a plan of action so he could escape.

The dinner revealed one thing: if it came to it, she would sacrifice anyone to keep her family safe.

Leaning back in her seat, Kazi scowled at her ceiling. “Eluca was the safest option compared to other planets. It was never supposed to be like this.”

Gods, she sounded pathetic. Complaintive and whiny, ungrateful. At least they didn’t live in Canopis; at least Hollow’s Town remained relatively safe and free of Imperial oversight.

Wolffe perched himself on the edge of her desk, folding his arms over his chest. He regarded her with a carefully even expression.

“Do you think it’ll get worse?” she asked.

“Can’t say.” He frowned at the files on her ‘pad. “But things can change quick. I know that firsthand.”

She dropped her gaze to the hands wringing in her lap. “I just want to feel safe. And I know how ignorant and unfair that sounds coming from me when you—”

“You deserve to feel safe, Ennari.” A firm steadiness hardened his voice, a mountain weathering the strongest of winds, unmoved. Quietly, Wolffe added, “We all do.”

Deciding it was too late to dwell on the increasing danger of their situation, Kazi started to untie her braids, a necessary distraction from the thoughts whirling inside, and instead, chose to watch Wolffe.

He was studying her room: the gray, folded sheets of her bed and the matching quilt; the bookshelves along the opposite wall housing her adventure book, a cactus from Daria, and a charcoal sketch Neyti had drawn of the ocean; the white curtains tucked aside, revealing the jungle’s rolling hills. 

“Your shelves could use some personality,” Wolffe commented.

Judgment underscored his tone, and she frowned. “I didn’t know you’re an interior decorator.” 

He threw her a bored look and pushed away from her desk, approaching the shelves. “Why’s your dragon downstairs?”

“She doesn’t match my aesthetic.” At the roll of his eyes, she chuckled, glancing at her closed door. Though her dragon remained downstairs, she swore she could feel its unblinking gaze, observing her in its uncanny way. Sobering, Kazi said, “She’s too much of a reminder of life before.”

Wolffe wandered to her bed. “Before what?” 

“Before everything.” Setting aside her hair ties, she combed her fingers through her hair. “Before my father died. Before Daria and I stopped liking each other. Before the Purge. Before all of this.” Her voice had grown colder, bitter, and she cleared her throat. “I tried to get rid of her but I couldn’t. So she sits downstairs. It was a compromise.”

Reassessing her room, as if she was looking through Wolffe’s eyes, Kazi grimaced. Her bedroom was nothing more than utilitarian: bare, clean, tidy. Lifeless. The only sign someone had recently lived here was the lack of dust. Even her cactus could survive without her. 

The rustle of dried paper interrupted her musings as Wolffe lifted a seed packet from her nightstand. He arched a brow at her.

Her cheeks warmed. “It was a thoughtful gift.”

“This is trash,” he deadpanned. It was her turn to roll her eyes, and Wolffe shook his head, replacing the seed packet back where it belonged. Another slow survey of her room commenced, and then he straightened. His head angled toward her refresher. “Can I use your shower?”

Kazi blinked, momentarily rendered speechless. It was such a random request. And yet there was something bedded into his words, scrupulously layered, guarded: a question, no, a suggestion.  

Perplexed, she gestured to the ‘fresher in acquiescence, and, after a prolonged search of her face, Wolffe disappeared. A few seconds later and the spray of water, a gentle patter, spilled through the cracked door.

Kazi returned her attention to her ‘pad. 

Keying into the datafolders Fehr passed along every month or so, she searched for Ceaia. 

A foolish idea, really. Ever since her arrival on Eluca, she’d avoided the network’s reports on Ceaia. To her knowledge, they were mere assessments of Imperial presence in the Outer Rim. Simply a means to remain informed. Anyway, she would never return to her home planet, so updates were pointless, a dull fingernail reopening a flesh wound. 

But tonight…

The first datafile inside the Ceaian ‘folder presented an overview of the planet: Most of the information detailed the small Imperial force in the capital and the Empire’s disinterest in the planet. Imps bolstered the central government on the eastern continent. Rebellion was nonexistent. Kazi knew all this.

However, the further she read, the more bemused she became.

The rebel network had suggested planet-level analyses of Ceaia’s continents, major cities, and even certain harbors. For some reason, the network was interested in Ceaia.

Chewing the inside of her cheek, Kazi scanned the report closer, but any mentions of the network’s plans were properly redacted. Still, she skimmed the analyses.

Searching…

There were individual files on specific cities and harbors. 

She scanned the list. 

Familiar names flitted past.

She scrolled further, searching for—

Outlook Harbor. 

Her heart stumbled at the familiar name; a cold sweat clammed her palms. 

The rebel network had investigated her harbor—a harbor in the northern continent lacking any connection to Imperial accusations and the Purge. Opening Outlook’s file, she read through it.

Sensitive information redacted—information that clearly detailed the network’s plans—Kazi could only theorize the network’s goals. But there was one line that caught her attention. One line, in the Overview section, that demanded her attention.

Empire rumored to abandon shortly.

The sentence replayed in her mind, a broken holofilm repeating over and over. 

Because, if the Empire abandoned Ceaia, Outlook Harbor would be safe and maybe—

Shoving away from her desk, Kazi massaged her temples, pacing the length of her room. 

It was too late. Things were in motion here, and finding hope within a rumor, a fucking rumor, was asinine.

She had chosen to run, and Ceaia was in the past, and she couldn’t dwell on it any longer. She wouldn’t.

A sudden quiet seeped into her room; a creak told her that Wolffe had exited the shower, and she stilled. 

Everything within her went silent.

A distraction, she wanted a distraction. No, she wanted comfort: She was still running, and she was tired, and her soul was so sore, and she wanted to pause for just a moment to feel something. 

Alive, she wanted to feel alive, and she wanted to feel it with Wolffe. 

Fingers trembling, Kazi removed her sweater, untied her trousers, tossed her clothes and underthings into her hamper. She moved across the bedroom; the resolved beat of her heart, steady, unflappable, complimented her soft rap on the ‘fresher door.

Steam warmed her face, licked her bare skin.

“You’re late.” One of her white towels covered Wolffe’s lower half—tiny around his waist—and he looked down at her, amusement breaking through his practiced composure.

“You showered too fast,” Kazi said.

“Yeah.” His hands bracketed her jaw; his face lowered to hers. “I won’t make that mistake again.”

Soft lips were on hers, and Kazi ran her hands up his chest, still damp, delectably warm, wrapping her arms around his neck. Wolffe groaned against her mouth. Tangled his fingers in her hair. Gripped her waist and stroked her spine. 

The heat of his hand to her bare skin, the softness of his touches compared to the desperation in his kiss, the way he held her and touched her, sparked her body to life. Need throbbed in her clit, and gods, she needed something—needed him.

Mouthing beneath her jawline, Wolffe rasped, “Tell me what you want.”

Her thighs hit her bed and she didn’t resist as Wolffe lowered her. As his forearms surrounded her head and his toweled lower half settled between her legs.

“To feel something,” Kazi said. Water dewed his curls and she rested a palm against his chest, basked in the hard, rapid beat of his heart.

He leaned back, just slightly, and let his gaze wander the length of her body. His pupils dilated, the dark brown of his eye and silver of his cybernetic giving way to black. A shiver breathed down her spine, tightened in her nipples, and she could only lie there, appreciating the way he took her in, the same way she had seen him study the bioluminescent flora during their night swims: admiring.

One moment Wolffe was perusing her body, and the next, his mouth was on her breast. 

Gasping, Kazi arched into him, clinging to his bicep. His mouth was hot and wet to her sensitive skin, and she ground her hips against him, desperate for any stimulation. Wolffe choked at the contact. His teeth grazed her nipple and—

“Oh gods,” she whimpered.

“This?” Wolffe flattened his tongue along the underside of her breast and licked to her nipple. “This good with you?”

She released a shaky exhale. “Yes.”

A large hand cupped her breast, and a calloused thumb scraped her nipple. She started to tremble. The clench in her cunt was hard, demanding, and she could only stare at her ceiling, trying to quiet her breathing, calm the racing beat of her heart. 

And, fuck, she thought she might actually come from this—from him caressing her nipples, biting gently into her breasts. Her cunt fluttered at a particular scrape of his thumb, and she bit back a whimper. 

A dazed look darkened his features as Wolffe focused on her breasts. She didn’t understand the appeal: Her breasts were small, small enough his hands easily engulfed them, and yet he seemed unable to look away. Unwilling to abandon them as he dragged a long lick across her nipple and sucked on it. 

Panting, she gripped his shoulder, dug her fingernails into his skin, wavering between pushing him away because the sensation was overstimulating, or holding him closer, giving into the pleasure humming through her nerves and tightening her insides.

A finger brushed through her labia and she tensed, glancing between their bodies. Wolffe circled his finger around her cunt. Light, unhurried circles. 

“This?” Wolffe asked. His eyes were on hers, and the dark brown swirled, drunken with desire. “This good with you?”

“No sex,” she whispered hoarsely. Her labia were so sensitive from his circling, and she swallowed a rising moan. “I can’t—” 

“I understand.” Wolffe tapped her cunt and she could feel her arousal slickening him. “But this? Can I fuck you with my fingers?”

“Yes.”

“What about my tongue?” He licked along her breast again, nipping at her nipple. She shuddered beneath him. “Can I taste you?”

“Wolffe.” Need buzzed beneath her skin, burned in her blood, and she was so fucking sensitive, so desperate for any touch between her legs or her nipples, but he needed to know, first: “I take so long—”

“Good.” He removed his hand, and her hips jerked their protest, her legs trembling with restraint. Satisfaction carved a smile on his face. “I’ve been wanting this for a long time, Kazi. Take your time. I’ll enjoy it.”

Before she could dissuade him, Wolffe was kneeling between her thighs, and he was propping one of her legs on his shoulder; and all she could do was watch, her nipples tingling and her clit aching, shaking with want as Wolffe breathed her in. As he flattened the head of his tongue to her cunt. He licked her.

Pleasure swelled deep inside her and her head fell back. Another slow lick followed and Wolffe groaned against her. The noise was low, guttural, and she gasped, bucking against his mouth. His hands flexed around her thighs, holding her open, restraining her against the bed. 

Sweat thickened the heat beneath her skin and she panted harder; her blood ran fast and hot. Wolffe traced her labia, the tip of his tongue so light it tickled, and then he was sucking her clit, his pleased groans rumbling against her.

Breathy, uncontrollable moans hissed between her teeth. A finger circled her cunt once. Twice. It pushed into her and her hips jerked.

“Wolffe.” Kazi lifted her hips, a silent demand for more, but Wolffe kept his strokes languid, his finger curling upwards and massaging such a sensitive spot she fisted her sheets harder and groaned. 

A second finger slid inside, and she whimpered at the pressure, at the stretch of his fingers. It was so much; more than her own fingers. 

“Fuck, you’re tight,” Wolffe hissed, stilling his fingers inside her. His eyes snapped to her face. “Am I hurting you?”

Breathing through her nose, she shook her head, blinking dazedly at the ceiling. “It’s just…a lot.”

Wet heat encased her clit the moment Wolffe’s two fingers massaged her upper wall. Massaged a spot that had her panting “More, please more” and her hips gyrating against his face.

Tightness coiled in her lower stomach, and the muscles in her legs bunched. She was shaking; her fingers were curled desperately in her sheets. Her breathy exhales were moans, and the pressure inside her bordered pain. 

Wolffe sucked on her clit harder; he curled his fingers and rubbed that spot over and over and over. All of her tightened, and her legs stiffened, and she felt as fragile as thin glass—

She shattered. 

Honeyed pleasure oozed through her blood, seeping into the cracks of her coiled muscles and soothing them. She was trembling, and she couldn’t move, left to blink at her ceiling as a wet tongue lapped at her, its strokes long, slow. 

A sharp flare in her labia made her pull away. Wolffe gripped her thighs harder, his scowl displeased, but at her sharp look, he released her, gently lowering her leg from his shoulder. 

A little tired, a little sore, Kazi lowered herself to the floor, leaned into Wolffe, and kissed him. He grunted against her mouth, seemingly surprised, but she didn’t bother to stop, pressing lackadaisical kisses to his jaw. Licking the muscled length of his neck. Basking in the way he held her weight as he panted against her ear.

It took her too long to realize he was fisting himself. Fisting and stroking his cock. She leaned back to watch him, beads of cum glistening his tip. It took her even longer to realize the wetness he was using to stroke himself was her own arousal—her own release. Wolffe met her gaze, his eyelids hooded. 

Grazing her palm along his thigh, the muscles shivered beneath her touch, Kazi smiled, cupping his balls and squeezing.

“Fuck.” Wolffe’s forehead fell to her shoulder. His breaths grew ragged, pained.

“Show me,” she said, massaging his balls. “Show me how you like it.” 

Roughly, he guided her hand to his base and fisted himself; the heat of his cock burned and her eyes widened in surprise. He tightened her grip and stroked. A groan warmed her neck.

“That’s it,” Wolffe rasped, using her hand to stroke himself faster. Harder. “Fuck, that’s it.”

Bracing a palm on the bed behind her, Wolffe hissed between his teeth, his hips jerking uncontrollably. 

Kazi traced light, teasing circles to his inner thigh, kissed behind his ear and nipped at his earlobe. Wolffe choked. His body stilled. He bit into her shoulder, and then he was spilling onto their hands, onto his stomach. He rutted into her hand, his semen hot and thick, his moans low and hoarse. 

As his thrusts eased and then stopped, Wolffe released her, his fingers trembling as they ran along her ribcage, like he was reassuring himself she was here. She was with him. Indolent kisses warmed her shoulder, soon followed by gentle licks to the mark he must have left.

Eventually they cleaned themselves and returned to her bed, still naked: soft brushes of fingers to skin, languid kisses to knotted muscles. At one point, Kazi laid atop Wolffe, her cheek nestled to his chest, his hands slowly tracing the knots of her spine.

“This,” he murmured, grazing the center of her back, “I’ve been thinking about.”

Trailing a finger along his own scars, she smiled. The line-drawn dragon tattoo was tiny and simple, her sole tattoo.

“Any significance?” he asked.

“I got it as a reminder,” she said. “That the only person whose got my back is myself.”

Pensive silence enveloped Wolffe as he continued stroking her spine, like he was counting each dent. Soon, though, those wandering hands shifted to her hips, her ass, her ribcage. Curious, lackadaisical touches ensued. Kazi wasn’t any better: feeling his scars, the tightness in his muscles, the fat toning his body. 

They were clay, formed from stardust and molded into individuals: to be appreciated, revered.

Later, the moons casting her bedroom in a bluish tinge, Kazi scanned Wolffe’s side-profile. 

“You can smell my soap? From feet away?” she said, disbelievingly. “Even after a couple of hours?”

“Yeah. And when I’m close to you, like this”—he gestured between their bodies—“I can smell you.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I can smell when you’re bleeding.” A nonchalant shrug succeeded her appalled blink. “And when you’re aroused.”

“No, you can’t,” she whispered.

“I can.” Amusement was woven into his frankness. “We were engineered to be exceptional.”

“Huh. I don’t know if I’m impressed or mortified,” she said. Wolffe chuckled, and she smiled, brushing her nose to his shoulder. “So, enhanced smell, sight, and hearing. What about taste?”

A devious glint darkened his eyes, and he edged closer, playing with a strand of her hair.

“You taste”—a wet tongue licked the length of her throat and Kazi gasped; Wolffe pulled back—“divine.”

Laughing, she tried to shove him away, but he resisted, grinning down at her.

“Divine?” she said, scoffing. “All you tasted was my body oil.”

“I was talking about your cunt,” he drawled, smirking at her exasperated shake of her head. Returning his face to her neck, he kissed just beneath her jaw and murmured, so quietly she wasn’t sure she was meant to hear it, “I won’t ever get enough of you.”

Minutes later, with Wolffe sucking on her collarbone in a way she knew he had no intention of stopping anytime soon, Kazi glanced at the chrono on her nightstand. She grimaced.

“Wolffe.” He grunted his acknowledgement. “I’m tired.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“I’m gonna go to sleep.”

He lifted his head. “You kicking me out, Ennari?”

A tiny, glowing fist pounded against her chest but she ignored it. If she asked him to stay, then she would grow accustomed to his presence. Rely on it. On him. And what if…

Rubbing her chest, she offered him an apologetic wince. “I don’t think I’m ready.”

Understanding gentled his expression, and he inclined his head, reaching for his trousers, forgoing his long-sleeve. 

At her door, Kazi pressed a swift kiss to his cheek. “Thank you for dinner and for…”

“The orgasm?” he supplied.

“Good night,” she said, unable to stifle her smile. 

Amusement crinkled his eyes and he tapped the underside of her chin. “Sleep well, Kazi.”

Masterlist | A Muse | Chapter 21

A/N: To see how I imagine Wolffe going down on Kazi, check out this artwork (18+/nsfw). If you take a look, please show love to the artist by reblogging. The artist deserves it. The artwork has no relation to Star Wars, but I stumbled across it one day and it reminded me of the scene in this chapter. Please enjoy. (Again, if you view it, please reblog it. Liking a post on Tumblr without reblogging does nothing to support the artist.)

[javierduffy]

“uh … it’s a bit girly … no?” javier examines himself in the reflection of his knife’s blade, looking this-a way and that, the dark blue of a large silken bow now peeking sheepishly around his neck as it sits gently in his hair. next to him, kieran clams up a smidge, hands still held close to his chest nearby his completed ribbon project on javier’s head. he finds it in himself to wring his hands a time or two rather than immediately undo his work as javier seems to continue to formulate his final opinion. “you … think so? look at me?” kieran asks, politely as a mouse. javier easily complies, turns at his hips and looks behind, up at kieran where he sits on the stump above him.

kieran, as he peers over, can’t help the meadow of flush that blooms over his neck, then his ears, then his nose and his cheeks. he can tell javier is deep in thought by the look on his face, mouth twisted just a might sideways, cocking his mustache awry, and the deep wrinkle sat between his brows. the ribbon he used matches javier’s vest perfectly, and the shine of the silk warms bright in the sun, just like every piece of jewelry and metal javier has adorned himself with. with this ribbon, javier’s hair sits lower on his head, ponytail draped down his nape and more hair framing his face in his bangs. kieran resists an urge to tuck one side back behind his ear.

kieran thinks that he looks like a painting, a muse, a love letter so heartbreakingly full of adoration that the only language it could be written in is bright swipes of pigment on a canvas. as he makes eye contact with the silk squinting around the red of a necktie, he thinks that javier may be right, if ‘girly’ could sum up ’poetry written in effeminate reverence’.

kieran always did think women made better art, wrote better books- found a better way to love. softer. warmer. prettier. like javier.

the world sounds like it’s underwater.

“i think … it’s very pretty. it suits you real well.”

earnest to a fault, the look in kieran’s eye dances gingerly with javier’s internal voice. it dips and sways him, and javier, despite his instinct, finds himself charmed by its rhythm.

“-b-but! i could take it out! if you don’t-“ javier looks down at himself in his knife again, the sunlight filtered through the leaves glinting a yellow green around his dark features, and kieran hands him patience on a silver platter. a rich blue makes friends with bright green quite easy, javier thinks. this is how he must look through kieran’s mossy lens.

“pretty … yes. you know, i think you may be right. i’ll keep it. gracias.”

[memento-morri-writes]

carrion vignette - a crisis of faith

a sequel to this short story (+ read this). Part 2 coming eventually. pov: Carrion wordcount: 1.8k character(s): Carrion Vice (D&D) canon status: canon backstory vignette trigger warnings: hallucinations, injury, violence, mentions of death summary: after being left for dead by his paladin order, Reverence undergoes a crisis of faith.

Reverence lay on his back, staring up at the moon. In the hours since he had been left here, it had sunk lower in the sky, and now it hung just above the rim of the ravine. The tiny waning crescent reminded him of the edge of a knife. 

A knife like how the rocks cut into his skin if he even tried to move. A knife like the wounds all over his body. A knife like the one that had cut him out of the tapestry of the Silver Order. A knife like the one that had stabbed his heart when Orion fell. 

He shook his head. He was thinking in metaphors. That wasn’t good. Maybe he had lost too much blood. Maybe he would die soon. 

He wondered what death felt like. It had to feel better than this.

Reverence closed his eyes and waited to die. 

Unfortunately, it seemed the Flame had other plans for him. 

He woke to the sun beating down on him, its bright light prying at the edges of his sleep. Slowly, his eyes cracked open. It was daylight now, and the sun was visible over the ravine. That meant that half a day had passed since he’d been left here.

Carefully, he tried to move, get a sense of his body. Immediately, pain shot through him, causing him to cry out. So he was still injured. And badly, it seemed. The paladins – his friends – had nearly killed him. 

If only they had finished the job. 

He closed his eyes and hoped to die.

Time slipped away from him after that. Hours passed without him registering them. He slept fitfully, waking every time he so much as twitched a muscle. His mouth grew dry, and he wished desperately for rain. 

Rain would also help with the heat. It was fall now, and yet he was sweltering. The rocks beneath him absorbed the heat. He was roasting here, like a rabbit over a fire. 

A fire. The Sacred Flame. 

An image danced on the back of his eyelids: His own body, speared on a ceremonial spear, and suspended over the temple’s Flame as though on a spit. The air was thick with smoke, obscuring the temple beyond the first two rows of the pews. 

Seated on those pews were the paladins. His paladins. The people he had traveled with and fought with and laughed with. They were laughing now, but this time it was not with him. They jeered, banging their metal travel bowls together in anticipation of a meal. 

He understood, then: This was what the Flame wanted. It wanted him to burn. He had taken in its light, and carried it, like a lamp lighting the way. But his wick had expired, his use had run out. And now there was nothing left to do but burn. Burn until there was nothing left. 

If it wanted him to burn, then he would burn.

He closed his eyes and reached for the flames.

Hours slipped by as he waded through the fire. In its dancing flames, he saw memories. He saw himself training alongside the other paladins. He saw Theodore instructing him, correcting his stance. He saw Beren laughing, a mug of ale in his hand. 

And in every memory, he saw it. Saw the fire that burned behind their eyes. The fire of devotion. Of loyalty. 

He walked onwards, through the fire. 

Ahead of him, he saw Theodore, arguing with Beren. Arguing about him. About whether or not to kill him. A fire burned at their feet, much larger than the distant campfire that had been there the first time he had seen these events. 

Theodore’s voice boomed, unnaturally loud, coming from all sides. “I will not kill one of my men!”

Beren opened his mouth to reply. But what emerged was not Beren’s voice. It was the roar of flames, almost deafening in volume, somehow shaped into words. “THEN LET HIM BURN.”

The flames flickered and the pair vanished. 

When the flames settled, they were there again, this time leaning out over the ravine, just like in his memory. But this time, Theodore carried a burning torch in one hand. Beren spoke again, but instead of protest, it was the Flame-voice again. “LET HIM BURN.” 

Theodore reached out his hand, and dropped the torch. It fell, tumbling down towards where Reverence lay on the ledge. Despite it being a barren shelf of rock, the flames caught. He could feel their heat. Feel the way his chains warmed until they were burning his skin. He opened his mouth to scream, but no sound came. 

Above him, Theodore turned away. “Put him out of your mind. Soon he will be nothing but Carrion.”

The flames engulfed him, obscuring Theodore from view.

Reverence burned away.

He woke, thrashing against the chains. It hurt, the pain almost blinding, but that didn’t matter. If he did not break free, he was going to die. And, he realized for the first time, he did not want to die. He wanted to escape, and to get out of this ravine. To hunt down Theodore and destroy his life as Theodore had done to him. He wanted revenge. He wanted to live.

The world took on a purple tint, growing hazy and distant. His muscles screamed in agony. The chains were too tight, cutting into his flesh. He bellowed in pain. They were choke him. Squeeze the life from his body. He was going to burst, or implode.

And then he was free.

The pressure on his body vanished as the chains broke and  fell away, clattering into the depths of the ravine. Euphoric, forgetting about his wounds, he leapt, scrabbling for a handhold on the rocky cliff. His long, knife-like claws dug into cracks in the rock. Slowly, every muscle burning, he ascended. 

Reaching the top of the cliff he staggered forwards, away from the edge. As he stumbled, the world grew in size around him as his body shrank. The pain that he had been trying his best to ignore slammed into him with its full force. 

His legs buckled under its weight and he fell to his knees.

He was dying, he was sure of it. He couldn’t die, not now. Not now that he was free, now that he understood! Desperately he reached out, searching for the golden-orange light of his magic. There was nothing but the cold and the dark. 

Of course. The flames had burned him. They would never heal him now.

BItter laughter bubbled to his lips, harsh and dry. He fell sideways, ignoring the distant pain from the impact. With great effort, he rolled onto his back. Above him, the sky was dark. The moon had vanished. He found himself falling again, but this time falling up, into the welcoming dark. 

He closed his eyes and waited for impact.

Time became a river again, with him borne along by the current, blissfully unaware. Every so often the world became real again, awareness surfacing like an island. 

“Hello? Can you hear me?”

A burst of pain in his shoulder. 

“Oh, fuck.”

A gentle touch.

Stinging pain.

A groan, from somewhere inside himself, more animal than human.

“I know, I know. It hurts. Just try to relax.”

The crackling of a fire. 

Cool water on his lips.

“Drink.”

Before he saw anything, he could hear. He took in the sounds of the world. The crackle of a fire. A rhythmic zing sound, over and over again. Zing, zing, zing. And underneath it, someone humming. He was not alone.

Extending his awareness to the rest of his body, he checked what he could feel. He lay on his back on something soft. A bedroll, maybe? No, too hairy. A pelt of some kind, then. He didn’t hurt, at least not much. There was a soreness that permeated every inch of his body, but it was nothing compared to the agony from before. Wiggling his fingers and toes, flexing the muscles in his arms and legs, he checked his range of motion. He could move. That was good. Maybe even fight if he needed to, though he didn’t want to test that theory.

He cracked open his eyes. Above him, he saw the branches of pine trees. Beyond that, the night sky, and the thin line of a waxing crescent moon. Slowly lifting his head, he looked around. A fire lit a small campsite, tucked amongst the trees. No tents, only his pelt and an empty bedroll. A rabbit roasted on a spit over the fire.

Beyond the fire hunched a figure, bent over some task. They appeared to be the source of the humming as well as the other noise. They didn’t seem to have noticed that he was awake yet. 

Carefully, as quietly as possible, he sat up. Glancing down, he saw he was shirtless and barefoot, though he still wore his pants from the Order, ripped in several places and stained with blood and dirt. He looked around for a weapon. 

There, by the other bedroll. A sheathed sword. 

He inched towards it, stepping as lightly as he could manage. But he was still sore, and clumsy. 

The humming stopped.

“Oh, good, you’re awake.”

He looked up and saw that the hunched figure on the other side belonged to a rugged-looking human man with weathered skin and a tangled mop of black hair. There was a wide grin on his face. In his hand gleamed a knife, which he was sharpening with a whetstone held in his other hand. Zing, zing, zing.

He must have seen the fear on his guest’s face, because he laughed and raised his hands. “I don’t mean you any harm. It would be a waste of all the time I spent dragging you back from the brink of death.”

He gestured to the rabbit on the spit. “I imagine you must be hungry. Come, sit.” Taking the knife, he sliced off a perfectly roasted slice of meat, letting it fall onto the plate. He held it out in the direction of his guest who still crouched near the bedroll. 

The sword was so close. But if this man had saved him… The smell of the roasted meat hit his nose and his stomach growled. He didn’t know how long it had been since he’d eaten but he knew it was days. 

Warily, he inched closer. When the other man made no move to attack, he snatched the plate of meat from his hand. Not bothering to wait for utensils, he picked it up and began to eat. It was the most glorious thing he had ever tasted. It was gone in seconds. 

He looked up and saw his rescuer holding another plate. “Do you want more?” 

He nodded vigorously. “Yes,” he rasped. Then, as an afterthought, “Please.”

His rescuer nodded. “Of course. But first, tell me: Who are you?”

He wasn’t sure what was going to come out of his mouth until it did, but once it was out he knew it was the truth. “My name is Carrion.”

[maddieandangel]

Had a weird Hollow Knight-related dream a couple days ago, so I decided to draw a major scene I remembered from it dgsgshf

More context will be in the tags, for those interested!

[double-u-qed]

just about 1k words of chapter 7 for rearview mirrors written :]

....i've been very busy with my tfbb fic, okay? lol

i'm anticipating a mid-April update, with one last oneshot squeezed in sometime these last few days of March. it's going to be a G1 ultra magnus and cyclonus fic :)