#I��m so curious how they’ll look or move

[writerseclipse1]

Mrs. Ghostface [simon r./ghost]

inspo: halloween is tmrw!!

summary: the 141 boys are out in a bar on the scariest night of the year--all hallows eve.

warnings: sfw, sexual innuendos, simon's lowkey a simp but we love him <3

word count: 1.3k, unedited (just a babe!)

a/n: the masterlist WILL come i promise 🙏

“What is it with all the costumes?” Said a grumpy Kyle as they all took a seat at the bar, their eyes wandering around amongst the crowd that looked like they gathered to play dress-up. Price could only chuckle at the sergeant who was chosen as their designated driver, watching the man eye their own drinks with envy.

“Tha’ my friend” Johnny chuckled, swirling his drink around in his glass before taking a long swig. “Is the beauty of Halloween. Drinks, candies, not to mention the pretty ladies.” He whistled, eyes trailing a blonde—undoubtedly dressed as Britney Spears—before Kyle smacked him on the back of the head.

“Keep your eyes to yourself, mate,” he rolled his eyes as Johnny protested, drops of his drink spilling on his lap. “That what the military teaches you?”

“‘M just lookin’, damn,” Johnny grumbled, rubbing the back of his head and trying to wipe the stain off his jeans but to no avail. “Aye, now look wha’ you done! Now they’ll think I went off to have a wee chug!”

“English, Mactavish.” Simon huffed as his eyes moved away from his drink to his sergeant while the mentioned couldn’t help but roll his eyes.

“Meant they might think I was wankin’ off an’ jizzed in my pants,” said Johnny lowly, downing his drink and asking the bartender for another. The man only nodded, swiping his glass from the countertop and walking away to fill it up.

Price, being somewhat of a mentor figure to the three, peered over to the other edge of the counter just as Simon had spoken, eyebrow raised like a curious father. “Tha’s the first word you’ve said since we got here. You alrigh’ there, Simon?”

The man could only offer a small grunt and a shrug expecting his captain to drop it as he adjusted his mask. For nights out like this, he opted only for his half-mask and his all but erased around-the-eye black paint. He wanted to let loose tonight, well, as much as he would allow himself anyway.

So it was certainly a surprise to him when he saw you, clad in a sexy little black dress that ended around the middle of your thighs, Ghostface mask pushed up to rest on top of your head. His eyes couldn’t help but widen, watching as you walked into the bar amongst the rest of your friends.

As if you sensed his gaze, a single glance from you made him freeze, holding his stare for a beat before he ultimately looked away. The jerk of his head did not go unnoticed, Johnny’s eyes drifting toward the group of girls before landing back on the masked man with a cheeky grin.

“Well, wha’ do we have ‘ere, eh? Seems that the dark and mysterious L.T. has got a wee crush on someone,” he laughed, patting Simon on the shoulder. “Gonna give it to you, though, you’re not exactly the ‘loverboy’ type.”

Simon’s eyebrow raised at this, moving so he slightly faced Johnny. “Care to elaborate, Johnny?”

After a good five minutes of Johnny teaching Simon how to be, as the Scot put it, “suave with the ladies,” Johnny nudged Simon as a familiar someone neared the bar. Simon watched from his peripherals as you eyed him carefully, a small smirk tugging at the corner of your lips.

“What can I get you, little lady? Or should I say Ghostface?” The bartender teased and when he heard your laugh, Simon thought that maybe being murdered by Ghostface wasn’t so bad if it was you under the mask. 

“A Bloody Mary would be good, thanks,” you grinned as he winked, walking off to prepare your drink. You took the chance to sidle up to the chair beside Simon’s, perching yourself onto the worn-out but comfortable leather stool.

“So,” you drawled, leaning on your palm as Simon adjusted, his knees facing you now as he eyed you with what others would say a lingering interest, but you knew better. “Who are you supposed to be?”

Simon quirked an eyebrow, throwing his head back and downing the shot in one go before pulling his mask back down under his chin, putting the small glass onto the countertop. “I’m no’ into the whole Halloween bit, sweet’eart.”

His lips twitched under the mask as you rolled your eyes, moving closer to him so your bare knee touched his clothed one, making something else twitch in his pants. “Oh, come on, you look familiar with the whole…skeleton mask thing. Oh! Are you the kid from Coco, you know, Miguel? The one who—“

“���ve seen the movie, love, but thank you for the description,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “But nah, that’s not me.”

“Well, who are you then?” Your cheeky smile was enough to send his mind into a frenzy, lips subconsciously licking his lips but before he could speak, the bartender beat him to it, sliding your requested glass of Bloody Mary across the counter, the small lemon slice and the white straw rustling against the ice.

“Bloody Mary for the pretty lady,” the bartender smirks, winking at you as you take a small sip, his forearms leaning onto the edges of the counter. As you dug into your purse, he shook his head “This one’s on the house. Don’t want Little Miss Ghostface to be mad at me now, do I?”

“Right, thank you Alfie,” you giggled, placing a hand atop Simon’s. “And by the looks of it, you should clear all their tabs as well.”

Alfie, despite knowing his regulars, gulped at the sight of Simon’s clenched fist and the feeling of the man’s burning gaze. “Right, consider it cleared.”

“And while you’re at it, Alfie,” Simon all but snarled and if it wasn’t for his slight familiarity with the bartender, the man’s teeth would've been knocked up his arse by now. “Stop flirting with my wife. I know that you know be’er than tha’.”

Alfie audibly gulped and nodded his head, hurriedly rushing off to serve a few customers. Simon heard your little giggle and his fist loosened, his large hand interlocking with yours when he felt your lips against his temple.

“My hero,” you teased, eyes shifting toward the shocked faces of his colleagues as their eyes darted from you, a dainty little thing compared to their lieutenant, all dark and imposing with shoulders for days. You felt Simon squeeze your hand and in return, you gave him a soft smile. “I’ll call a cab for us home, yeah? But give me a few minutes, gotta say bye to the girls first.”

“No, no, we ain’t leaving yet,” he murmured, eyes trailing from the hem of your dress up to your eyes, studying you closely. “You jus’ got here, go have some fun with the girls, and call me if someone bothers you, yeah? Or any of ‘em.”

He was pleased when he saw you nod, pulling down his mask just enough to capture your lips in a soft kiss, his hands cupping your neck before pulling back, lifting his mask back up and fixing the Ghostface mask that sat atop your pretty head.

“Damn L.T., never told us you were doll dizzy,” muttered Johnny, his eyes trailing over your form before Simon smacked the back of his head hard. “Wha’ is with all o’ ‘ye and the back o’ me head, eh?!”

Looking past him, you fixed your eyes on Johnny. “Hey. Johnny, right? If you’re still interested in the pretty blonde dressed as Britney, just tell me, yeah? She has a thing for mohawks,” you teased, standing up from the stool and putting a hand on Simon’s shoulder. Johnny’s eyebrows shot up, intrigued and stealing glances at the said blonde, your friend’s face a shade pinker than her dress. 

“I love you,” you whisper in Simon’s ear, seeing the crinkle in his eyes as he looks up at you, his thumb caressing your hip bone.

“I love ya too, Mrs. Ghostface.” He murmured cheekily, pressing a kiss to your cheek through the cloth of his mask.

[acescorazon]

Changes

Chapter: 16

Title: Retribution

Rating: M

Warnings: Language, Violence (but not really), Dialogue heavy :3

Word Count: 2879

Chapter Excerpt:

“Or are you perhaps still upset at Crocodile and I?” 

Buggy doesn’t know what’s the most shocking thing about this revelation, the fact that Mihawk wanted to console Buggy or the fact that he’s actively paying attention and actually seems to care how Buggy is feeling. His head is spinning right now. Mihawk moves his hand back quickly, almost as if he’s been burned, “I don’t know how to make my feelings seem genuine,” He states, and another moment goes by before he quietly asks:  “Do you want to take your grievances out on me?” What? Buggy instantly thinks as he stares at Mihawk, more confused than ever. “I know I’ve done a lot to hurt you in the past, so it would only be fair if you get some sort of retribution, right?” 

What? 

Mihawk gets up from his seat and fetches his giant blade from the corner of the room before presenting it to Buggy, “Take Yoru and do what you please to me or feel free to use any weapon of your choice if you don’t want to use Yoru.” He says, “I won’t stop you.” What the hell is this? How did they even get to this point so quickly? Buggy’s feels a wave of unease wash over him as he feels Yoru rest heavily against his lap and then watches Mihawk take a step back and spread his arms out.

“Whenever you’re ready, Buggy.”

|Ch1|Ch2|Ch3|Ch4|Ch5|Ch6|Ch7|Ch8|Ch9|Ch10|Ch11|Ch12||Ch13||Ch14||Ch15||

Buggy stops writing and looks up from his paper. He furrows his brow in confusion, “Oh? I thought you wanted to work on bettering your relationship with Crocodile and I.” He asks, curious. The thought of having a dinner with both Mihawk and Crocodile still isn’t an appealing one, but he thought for sure that Mihawk would try and invite Crocodile to dinner with them again. 

Mihawk rubs the back of his neck, “I do, but…” He trails off, “I assume he’d reject my invitation anyways, so why bother asking him?” Well, that’s a pretty good point. Even if Crocodile has apologized and expressed he wanted them all to get along, knowing him, he’ll only put the bare minimum into repairing their relationship, which is fine with Buggy.  

“How about it?” Mihawk asks. 

God, Buggy doesn’t want to have another dinner with Mihawk. He wants to have dinner with his friends where things are lively and fun, not all uptight and extremely awkward. Still, Buggy finds it difficult to reject Mihawk’s offer when he appears to be putting in the effort to fix their relationship, feeling like if he says no then it’ll cause unwanted stress and drama. “Yeah, sure.” He mutters, relenting despite wanting to reject Mihawk’s offer. 

….

After finishing their shopping list and sending some men out to sea to retrieve the supplies they’ll be needing, Buggy once again finds himself in Mihawk’s personalityless tent, sitting on his couch while eating an equally drab meal. There’s a weird tension in the room, and part of Buggy doesn’t know why he agreed to have a meal with Mihawk again in the first place. Maybe this is good for him, though. There’s a brief silence amongst them, but it doesn’t stretch for nearly as long as Buggy expects it to. For the most part, Mihawk seems to be putting effort into making conversation tonight. They talk about their upcoming trip to Prickly Pear Island as well as how training has been going with Mihawk and Buggy’s crew.

Everything is going fine and dandy until Mihawk brings up one man in particular. 

“Did you hear that Red hair is going after the one piece?” Mihawk ask as he takes a sip of his wine. Ugh, yeah… Yeah, Buggy did.

Buggy chews slowly on his food. Suddenly, his meal taste bitter and leaves a foul taste in his mouth, but he forces himself to swallow it down before he reaches for his glass of water. “Of course I did…” He mutters as he tries to keep his expression somewhat neutral or at least uncaring. 

“What are your thoughts on that?”

What are Buggy’s thoughts? Buggy can’t even begin to sort all the thoughts he has swimming around in his head right now, let alone put them into words. He guesses the closest word to describe how he’s feeling would be bitterness, but not even that sums up the true depth of his emotions. “I don’t give a shit what that idiot does,” Buggy manages to say, but his lie doesn’t sound too convincing. “He probably won’t even find the One Piece anyways.” 

Mihawk watches Buggy for a moment before he hums, “I suppose you’re right. The chances of him or anyone else actually finding the One Piece after all this time are probably slim.” Yeah, that’s what Buggy thinks too… Or rather hopes. “Roger never told you two where it was, did he?” 

Buggy shakes his head, “Nah, but I don’t think we ever wanted to know anyways. We didn’t want to know what it was or where it was, we always wanted to go on a grand adventure and find it for ourselves, you know?” 

“Together, right?” Mihawk asks softly.  

Buggy tries to stop a bitter smile from spreading across his face but fails. “Yeah, together.” He confirms. “I always thought he was supposed to take after Roger. I thought that he should be king of the pirates and that we would go after the one piece together, but…” He chuckles softly, “Shit happens, I guess. I don’t care.”

“Except you do care.” Mihawk replies, calling Buggy out on his lies. Oh, there Hawkeye goes again, reading Buggy like a book. Perhaps Buggy isn’t as good of an actor as he thought he was. 

Buggy laughs, “You kidding me? I don’t care,” He insists, “Let that idiot do whatever the hell he wants. I have my own problems I need to worry about. I have to be Cross Guild’s flashy leader, don’t I? Why would I care what one dumbass is doing?”

Mihawk leans back against the couch and looks up at the ceiling, “You know, Red Haired Shanks might be a close friend of mine, but… I know how he can be.” He sighs before pausing again, “I know how it feels when he just disappears for months and years on end and doesn’t even send you a message to let you know he’s alive or see how you’re doing. I also know how it feels when he shows up out of the blue one day and acts like he hasn’t been gone a single day. Or how it feels when he makes promises that you both know he won’t fulfill.”

At least Shanks is consistent, Buggy thinks bitterly as he debates whether or not he should ask for a glass of wine now that the two are talking in depth about Shanks. 

“He’s a good man and an excellent fighter,” Mihawk adds softly, “But there are times when his carefree lifestyle can leave others feeling disappointed and like they’re unimportant, almost like an afterthought. So, I get how you’re feeling right now, I really do.” He reaches out and puts his hand on Buggy’s thigh, squeezing it lightly. 

Buggy startles slightly from the touch. “Are you…” He blinks, confused again, “Are you trying to console me?” He accidentally blurts as soon as the thought pops up in his head. That can’t be, right? Mihawk can’t possibly think that Buggy is feeling down because Shanks is going after the one piece without him and is now actually trying to make him feel better. Why would Dracule Mihawk try to console anyone? He’s not that type of man. 

Mihawk seems equally as confused now, “Isn’t… Isn’t it obvious?” He asks. His hand is still on Buggy’s thigh, and he doesn’t make any effort to move it, “You’re feeling down, aren’t you? You… you kept looking at that newspaper with Shanks’ face on it during today’s meeting, and you haven’t been talking a lot lately…” he locks eyes with Buggy, “I thought you heard the news about Shanks and felt betrayed and might want to talk about it, so…” he trails off, “Was I wrong?”

 

“Um…”

“Or are you perhaps still upset at Crocodile and I?” 

Buggy doesn’t know what’s the most shocking thing about this revelation, the fact that Mihawk wanted to console Buggy or the fact that he’s actively paying attention and actually seems to care how Buggy is feeling. His head is spinning right now. Mihawk moves his hand back quickly, almost as if he’s been burned, “I don’t know how to make my feelings seem genuine,” He states, and another moment goes by before he quietly asks:  “Do you want to take your grievances out on me?” What? Buggy instantly thinks as he stares at Mihawk, more confused than ever. “I know I’ve done a lot to hurt you in the past, so it would only be fair if you get some sort of retribution, right?” 

What? 

Mihawk gets up from his seat and fetches his giant blade from the corner of the room before presenting it to Buggy, “Take Yoru and do what you please to me or feel free to use any weapon of your choice if you don’t want to use Yoru.” He says, “I won’t stop you.” What the hell is this? How did they even get to this point so quickly? Buggy’s feels a wave of unease wash over him as he feels Yoru rest heavily against his lap and then watches Mihawk take a step back and spread his arms out.

“Whenever you’re ready, Buggy.”  

Buggy doesn’t even know what to make of this situation. Here’s one of the men who has hurt him the most, standing before him and telling him to unleash his fury on him. It’s Buggy’s chance to finally get a little bit of revenge. He could beat Mihawk up to a pulp, he could slice him to pieces, he could leave him for dead, that way he’ll never get to take his anger out on Buggy again. 

Buggy stands up from the couch slowly and holds Yoru in his hands. This thing is heavier than shit. He thinks as he glances over at Mihawk, who’s looking back at him with an unreadable expression. “Do you regret it…?” He asks, his voice a little shaky, “Do you honestly, truly regret treating me like shit?” 

Mihawk simply nods in response. “I do. I don’t think I can apologize enough for my heinous behavior, which is why I think you should hurt me like I hurt you. I won’t fight back or seek revenge in the future. You have my word.” 

“You do know you’ve hurt me with more than just your fists, right?”

“I do. Feel free to insult me while you get your revenge.”

Buggy had no idea that the world’s strongest swordsmen was such a masochist. Buggy can really do or say whatever he wants to Mihawk and there won’t be any repercussions at all?! He thinks back to all the times that this man, this cruel man has put him down and made him hurt and cry. Mihawk probably won’t cry or even flinch while Buggy is beating the shit out of him, though, but at least Buggy will be getting some form of revenge.

Buggy swallows down a wad of spit, “You do know that you’re an idiot for doing this, right, Hawkeye?” He asks, feeling a little bold now that Mihawk has given his word that he won’t stop Buggy from enacting his revenge on him. “You do realize I could kill you, right?” he asks, “Do you realize how much hatred and hurt, and rage I have stored up inside of me after all the shit you and Crocodile have put me through?! I could kill you. I could slit your throat right now.” 

“If that’s what it takes to get forgiveness, then I’m okay with dying.”

He was so quick to respond. Buggy truly hates this man and his bravery. Mihawk is yet another person who doesn’t fear his own death, and it pisses Buggy off. He’s everything that Buggy isn’t. 

Buggy hates him. He wants him to suffer, or better yet, to just die. Buggy will still have to deal with Crocodile if he kills Mihawk and he’s sure that Crocodile will be furious about Mihawk’s death, but who cares? This is finally Buggy’s chance at revenge. Hell, maybe after he kills Mihawk, he’ll have enough adrenaline flowing through his veins to actually be able to take on Crocodile and finally be free of these two.

Yeah, that sounds just perfect, actually... 

Buggy takes another step forward, Mihawk doesn’t move. He looks down at the sword in his hand, it far too heavy for his liking, but he does think it would be ironic if Mihawk died from his own blade, and even more ironic that Buggy would be the one using it to strike him down. Buggy’s heart is soaring right now as he stands in front of Mihawk. He feels stronger than he’s felt in weeks, granted he knows it’s all an illusion that Mihawk is allowing him to have, but it still feels damn good. He feels like he’s on top of the world, knowing that he can slice Mihawk in half or plunge his own sword into his belly right now. 

“You’re too hesitant. Don’t think, just do it.” Mihawk orders, his voice flat. 

Buggy chuckles. Yeah, maybe he has been stalling a little without even really noticing it. He tries to shut off his mind and his feelings before he raises Yoru up in the air. He quickly brings it down as those same painful memories flood his mind for the umpteenth time, but he stops short of Mihawk’s shoulder when he realizes Mihawk really isn’t going to stop him.

“Why are you doing this?” Buggy asks, desperately searching for answers, “What do you think this could possibly achieve? Are you just fucking with me? You know I can’t do something like this.” 

Mihawk stares down at Buggy, still completely unbothered, “This is no joke. I want forgiveness and if this is the only way to receive it, so be it.” He replies, remaining stubborn and fearless. Buggy drops Yoru to the side, and shoves Mihawk roughly, but the other man doesn’t budge. 

“Why are you acting like you’ve suddenly changed?” Buggy asks as he shoves Mihawk again, this time a little harder, “Why are you acting like you actually give a shit about how I feel? Why are you acting like a man of honor now?!” Mihawk doesn’t reply, and it only pisses Buggy off more. “I don’t understand what you’re trying to do! What’s the point in all this bullshit?!” He yells. 

Mihawk remains silent yet again. 

“Why won’t you answer me?!” Buggy asks, and in the heat of the moment he slaps Mihawk. It doesn’t feel as good as it should. After everything Buggy’s been through, slapping Mihawk should feel amazing, but there’s nothing gratifying about it at all. If anything, hitting Mihawk makes Buggy feel…bad. 

Mihawk doesn’t even flinch when Buggy slaps him, he stays perfectly motionless and stares down at Buggy, waiting for his next move. Buggy swears he’s never met someone as enraging as Hawkeye before. “Why are you doing this?”  He repeats, “Why are you acting like you desperately want my forgiveness after all this time? There’s no way you actually care if I forgive you or not. So, why are you doing this bullshit, Hawkeye?” 

Mihawk looks away, “You wouldn’t believe me even if I told you my reasoning behind all this.” he mutters, “Just let your frustrations out on me.” What the hell is that even supposed to mean? Buggy absolutely hates how cryptic Mihawk has been recently. “No, I want to know why you had a sudden change in heart,” He replies, shoving Mihawk again - still no budge.

“Because I’m remorseful.”   

“Bullshit. What’s the real reason?” 

“Because I’m remorseful.” Mihawk repeats. 

Mihawk’s words loop over and over in Buggy’s head. Because I’m remorseful, because I’m remorseful. Somehow those words just make Buggy even more upset, even more confused. “Come on, Hawkeye. Stop bullshitting me. We both know you hate my guts and love seeing me suffering, there’s no need to play these stupid games with me.”

“For the love of God, Buggy!” Mihawk exclaims, “Can’t you see that I don’t hate you? Can’t you see that I’m doing all this because I want you to forgive me? I want to move on, I–.” He trails off, unable to finish his sentence, “I was wrong. I was wrong in so many ways about you, and I was wrong for hurting you.” He takes a step forward this time and puts both of his hands on Buggy’s shoulders, Buggy tenses but doesn’t move away. “Can’t you see I’m being genuine? I wouldn’t stoop as low as to play mind games with you…” He pauses again and then takes a deep breath, “Buggy, I’m doing this because I regret my actions and I want to move on. I’m doing this because I want to better our relationship and…because… I think I’m starting to develop feelings for you, as crazy as that seems.”

Buggy feels like he’s been punched in the gut. He stares at Mihawk for a good minute, trying to figure out what the hell he just said to him amidst all this chaos. ‘I think i’m starting to develop feelings for you…’ Buggy opens and closes his mouth, unsure how he’s even supposed to react to such an announcement. It’s like a cold bucket of water has just been dropped on his head. He’s unsure if he should still be angry or if he should be in disbelief. Is he supposed to be flattered?

“I’m serious, Buggy. I have absolutely nothing to gain from lying to you.” 

Oh, god. Buggy quickly puts some distance between them as he feels a weird, unexplainable concoction of emotions stirring within him. Oh, god. What the hell is going on? He thinks as he frantically searches Mihawk’s face for any sighs of deception but finds none. Oh, god. He’s serious, he’s actually serious. Oh, God. Buggy puts a finger up, “I have to go because you’re freaking me out, man.” Buggy blurts. “You have to be the most confusing man i have ever met in my life. What do you mean you think you’re developing feelings for me?!” He asks.

“I-” “Oh, god. Don’t say anymore.” Buggy says, cutting Mihawk off before he rushes out of his tent and into the night, panicking from Mihawk’s all too confusing confession.  

A/N: Because only Mihawk would think he needs to be stabbed to be forgiven and then be like oh by the way i think i'm starting to like you.

[glisten-inthedark]

Even back when I was a m*Keven shipper, when season four came out and I saw the van scene, I remember saying, “Oh, he knows, doesn’t he?” about Mike. There’s something about Finn’s performance there where I felt like there’s this, like, moment of recognition, or something? Of realization? Where he’s looking at Will with new eyes, or just looking at Will and everything he’s feeling is directed at Will, not Eleven.

I’m really curious as to what route they’ll take in season 5. Like, maybe we’ll see Mike and Eleven talking and instead of Mike thanking Eleven for the painting, he says, “Will told me you asked him to make me a painting,” and Eleven says, “What painting? I didn’t do that.” and Mike just goes, “Oh. Okay. Forget it, then.” and doesn’t actually tell her the context, because this wasn’t an instance of him actually believing she had commissioned it, but rather him confirming his suspicions. Maybe Eleven presses for more or maybe Eleven just never actually learns what happened in the van, because they’ve already broken up and are both moving on and what happened in the van is between Mike and Will. But we would be able to see via Finn’s acting whether he’s disappointed or if he’s excited about his suspicions being confirmed (I imagine, like, a tiny little smile forming that he’s trying to hide).

I also think that Mike’s reaction to the painting will likely not be out of anger of Will lying. I think Mike’s smart enough to realize why Will lied. Even if Mike didn’t already have a girlfriend at the time, they live in the ‘80s. Maybe Mike would be hurt that Will didn’t trust him with the truth of him being gay, but I think he’d understand from Will’s speech that he did it because he needs Mike and can’t lose him and he’s afraid he will if he tells the truth.

I think instead, Mike will learn the truth and then just start acting a little different around Will. More flustered, staring a little longer, hovering closer, more protective, stuff where it’s clear to the viewer that Mike’s processing his own feelings of being in love with Will. I think Mike will also take the time to observe more about how Will is with him and looks at him, and those things will make him more flustered now that he knows for sure.

Hello!!!

So that's interesting because the first time I watched it I also had the feeling he knew but I wasn't sure so I just brushed it off and assumed he didn't.

But then I read that amazing analysis that made me rethink the possibility and come to terms with the fact he might be at least suspicious.

I don't think he knows the full extent, but he knows far more than he's let on.

And if he was suspicious I also don't think he'll get angry, probably just a little upset but Mike is self aware enough to know when he screws up so he might understand Will's reluctancy and I also think he might hold onto this information about the painting.

If they go for the we are not sure whether or not Will is over Mike while Mike pines route it can generate the most beautiful angst, because now Mike has this information and isn't sure what to do with it because what if Will is over him, what if now he's alone in those feelings?

So yes, I can definitely see him gazing at Will more, studying in and trying to figure him out, lovingly staring at him like he did in the van.

Also I'm curious but you don't have to answer if you don't want to, but what made you stop shipping Mil*ven?

[darcytaylor]

What are you most excited to see in the lead up to and in Bridgerton season 4? A thing or two about the leads and a thing or two about other characters?

I'm really excited about Season 4 and can't wait to see how Luke and Yerin bring their characters to life! I am sad that it will be such a long wait though! Luke is great actor, so I have no doubts about his portrayal of Benedict. I haven’t seen Yerin in anything yet, but from the way she speaks and interacts with Luke, I’m optimistic they’ll have great chemistry and make us fall in love with their love story.

I hope the adaptation will modernize An Offer From a Gentleman, moving beyond the traditional Cinderella trope and bringing in more empowering elements for Sophie’s character. The changes in Season 3, like Colin checking in with Penelope to ensure she was comfortable and wanted to continue, show that the writers are focusing more on consent and agency in relationships, and I’d love to see that continue in Season 4.

Aside from Benedict and Sophie, I’m obviously looking forward to seeing how Colin and Penelope’s dynamic evolves after the events of Season 3. I’m really want to see a scene with Penelope, Colin, and Eloise together now that Penelope and Colin are married! Their group dynamic is sure to be really interesting, given all the history and emotions involved.

I’m also curious about Eloise’s arc and how her storyline will progress now that she’s pulled away from society and has spent time in Scotland. I think season 5 is still set to be Eloise so I'm curious where they will take Eloise's character, and how they will make her be ready by the end of season 4 to take a chance at love.

On the promo front, I can’t wait to see what they have in store. Will we get another world tour? Or will it be something else entirely? ’m sure it’ll be exciting, especially with how beloved the show has become. I loved all the interviews with Luke and Nicola in the lead up for last season, so I’m definitely looking forward to a daily dose of Luke and Yerin leading up to the premiere!

[wfagamerants]

You know the drill by now. New Direct, New Mario games shown. I will talk about them here. There was plenty else I enjoyed, but with the Mario focus of the blog, I wanna give the three new Mario games my attention.

Donkey Kong Country Returns HD

I understand this one feels underwhelming for some, given DK has still not gotten a non-port or remake game on Switch, but to be honest, I like this. DKCR is a phenomenal platformer and with the 3DS content included, we now finally got a definitive version to point people to and I do think this gives this re-release a lot of value.

Not much else to say, because I doubt there will be much, if anything, new. Seems like a very Luigi’s Mansion 2 HD situation and I am okay with that.

Mario & Luigi Brothership

This was easily the biggest bombshell and yeah, what a way to start the Direct. The recent RPG and TTYD remakes made me hope that Nintendo may be working on a serious relaunch for the RPG branch of Mario, but to see them do it this soon is not something I could have ever seen coming.

Much is still unknown, but there is quite a bit we can look at, like the visuals! The occasional use of 3D models in the 3DS games made me wonder what a fully 3D M&L could look like and Brothership gives a very pleasing answer. Translating a series known for stellar sprite work into 3D is an uphill battle and Brotherhood manages to pull it off with both a really faithful translation of the series’ artstyle we always saw in official art and animation that’s as snappy and toony as it should be for a series like this.

Especially happy about the cutscenes. RPG already made me really want to see more like those and Brothership is very similar. Seeing the characters be this animated and not limited to their standard animation sets is a joy to watch and M&L is the perfect series to do a lot with that.

We got plenty of new character designs already too and those largely go for a tool theme. Very interested to see where this will take things, but just in terms of designs, I like em’. Connie seems to be the big hit among fans and I am firmly in that camp too. She’s adorable.

What we hear of the music is good stuff too. It’s to be seen if Yoko Shimomura is still working her magic, but I’d be surprised if she wasn’t brought back.

In terms of gameplay there is not much known yet, but I am very curious how they’ll do things. After the Baby Bros, Bowser, Dreamy Luigi and Paper Mario, we are back to just Mario and Luigi and that promises some expansions to the gameplay around just the two of them.

We already see hints of that with the jump and hammer attacks shown in the trailer, which involved Luigi helping out Mario for a bit of a team attack. They don’t seem to be Bros Attacks, since we see the Shell one we had since PiT at the end of the trailer, so maybe that’s just what jump and hammer moves are like now? We’ll see, I find the idea intriguing. 

One thing up in the air is how the game will handle previous M&L specific characters. The series has been remarkably good about keeping those in the picture and making these games feel truly connected. Not a big deal if they treat this like a soft relaunch though, even if I would be perfectly content with even just a picture of a Shroob on a wall or something.

The titular ship and island theme makes me curious about the overall structure of the game. The most likely answer being that different areas are separated into islands you visit one by one. Perhaps there could be an exploration mechanic ala’ Wind Waker, or the very blatantly based on that section in Origami King, where you can sail yourself, find treasure and optional islands?

Only time will tell, but I am really excited and happy to see a series back that has been in a very unsure place for years.

Mario Party Jamboree

As far as realistic wishes go, Mario Party was my big one, so I am very pleased and it easily stands shoulder to shoulder with Brothership and away from Mario, Echoes of Wisdom and the Marvel vs Capcom Collection, for me.

Mario Party is one of my favorite series period and I even got quite a bit out of the pre-Switch NDCube games. 10 and Star Rush in particular I openly defend a lot. That said, my relationship with the Switch entries has been a rocky one.

I never really liked Super, it always felt like a pale imitation of the classic formula, that lacked a lot of what I like about the series and made many decisions I didn’t vibe with.

Superstars is much better, but still ended up being a tug-of-war of really good stuff and things I found still lacking, particularly in terms of content and how off a lot of minigames felt to control, compared to their original counterparts.

Jamboree is looking to be the Mario Party I have been waiting for all gen and it’s looking to fix all the problems I had with the previous games.

7 boards, 5 new and 2 returning. Never thought of a mix of old and new as an option, but it’s a move I can get behind. It’s a good way to get more boards in. I’d like it if they remade some of the GameCube boards for once, but I am not complaining. Hard to when Western Land is back baybeeeh!

The new boards all look good. It really seems like we are back to the 6-8 era approach of giving every board their own gimmick and that’s something I have been waiting to see again. The theming looks great too, especially the mall and race track ones, some creative stuff in there.

The roster surprised me too. Superstars had a laughably poor one and while Super had a large one, it made decisions I didn’t like, particularly relegating several established characters to NPC roles.

Jamboree does away with that, Birdo’s here, the Toads are back, which I really wanted and all around while I prefer less mook heavy rosters, I like the selection on offer here, especially Ninji and I’ll never say no to Boo or Shy Guy.

I also like what they did with Bowser. I love the guy, but his playable role in Super I feel robbed the series of something. His usual role is a big, irreplaceable part of the series, in both gameplay and vibe. This force who commands the power to massively shake up the game. Kamek in both function and presentation just didn’t offer a good replacement, so the new approach to have a Kamek created Bowser clone fill in is a significantly better compromise.

Ninji not being in the intro and bringing the roster up to an odd numbered 21 does indicate possible unlockables. I’d be happy if what we saw is what we get, but I’d never say no to say, Pauline, who is otherwise still strangely absent from the series.

What we saw of the minigames meanwhile looks good. A much better mix of zany antics and more grounded competition than Super had, which dialed back the slapstick adventure feeling a ton. The large number of minigames, seemingly all original this time, is also genuinely impressive.

We also got the promise of more modes, but so far the only one we got concretely introduced to is Koopathlon, which is blatantly Coinathlon from Star Rush brought online and escalated to 20 players. As someone who loved Coinathlon, I fully support this.

On top of that, I could already hear new voice clips, which is just that extra mile I appreciate. Mario spin-offs are no stranger to reusing those a ton and Party is one of the more notable examples of it, but something about the ones used post-10 I found especially grating, especially how much Superstars spams them in some minigames, so I am VERY pleased to get away from that.

On the whole, Jamboree feels like a lot of lessons were learned and they really want to make this one something special and I am very excited for that. This really makes the previous two games feel like test runs and I did hope they were just that. Especially Superstars which showed some real understanding of how to make a great Mario Party, but just wasn’t there yet in too many areas for my liking.

In general, a strong trio of titles, that really shows a surprising amount of gas in the tank for a system that is now in its twilight years. Along with the 2023 output for the series, I am extremely excited where things will go from here.

[clickerflight]

Joseph: Part 5 - A Friend

Masterlist

Part 4

Had something happen today that made me lose a bit of steam for this story, but we're going to keep trucking. I probably got too caught up in looking for validation with my writing, but I think we'll be okay. I have plans for it and I'm going to keep going, I just might have to take a short break.

Content: Vampire whumpee, human caretaker, hospital setting, panic attack, grief, detailed memories of a character death

..................................................

Joseph enjoyed his music for most of the day, his eyesight coming back enough for him to see the small device where he could search for music and play it. He didn’t recognize the app, but he was glad for the music. 

He was bobbing his head to ‘Eye of the Tiger’ when he smelled someone familiar. He looked over into the hall, waiting until a man came into view. The man that had to be Joshua Muir looked to be of Mexican descent, clean shaven and wearing his hair just long enough he could pull some of it back into a little wolf tail. 

He wasn’t wearing a police uniform, instead wearing well worn jeans and a t-shirt. 

Muir opened his mouth in greeting and Joseph realized he was still wearing his headphones. He pulled them down, the sounds of the hospital greeting him again, but he could focus attention on Muir and it wouldn’t bother him. 

“Hi,” Joseph said, feeling once again safe as Muir sat down in the chair by the bed. 

“How are you feeling?” Muir asked.

Joseph shrugged. “I’m completely regenerated. The nurses said they were going to get some more blood into me overnight and then get me set up to go to a rehab center.”

“Nice. That was pretty quick,” Muir commented. 

Joseph nodded as the situation dawned on him for the first time since waking up. “Oh, stars, you, I….. Sorry. I shouldn’t have forced you to ride in the ambulance with me. You didn’t get in trouble, did you?”

Muir laughed. “No, not at all. Well, maybe a little but it wasn’t a problem. You needed someone to be there for you, man. It happens.”

He nodded a little. “Thanks for coming back. I hope I’m not keeping you from anything.”

Muir shook his head, a hint of sadness entering his expression as he said, “No, you’re good. I, ah, I moved to the city pretty recently. I don’t have many friends yet outside of some coworkers… but I guess we don’t really hang outside of work. This is…. Kind of nice, actually.”

“Oh,” Joseph said, surprised. “Alright then.”

There was a moment of awkward silence before Muir asked, “So, got any questions? 3 years is a lot of time.”

Joseph shrugged. “Haven’t really seen enough to have questions, I guess…. Have the fledgling laws passed?”

“Not yet,” Muir replied, looking slightly annoyed. “Well, parts of it have. People with terminal illnesses can apply to become a fledgling, but the stuff around people with chronic illnesses and terminally ill children got tied up in the courts last year.”

“Well, I guess it’s good there’s been some movement on that,” Joseph said.

“Yeah,” Muir said. “So, what do you like to do?”

“I like reading,” Joseph said with a shrug. “And D- my bondmate was teaching me how to play the piano. I used to work at a tech shop. I guess I was kind of, I dunno, stuck in a rut. Wasn’t really sure what I wanted to do with my life…..”

“Well, there’s plenty of time to figure it out,” Muir said with a shrug. 

Joseph nodded. “And you? What do you like to do?”

“My job takes up most of my time. I’m working my way up to being a detective. I’ve been a cop for a few years now and I’ve been studying to pass the tests they’ll need me to do. I’m pretty excited. The Chief has been pretty hard on me, which makes me think it’s going well.”

“How’s that?” Joseph asked, curious.

“Well, she’s a tough love kind of lady,” Muir said with a mischievous smile. “She’s been criticizing my work a lot lately, which tells me some big guns are watching me, trying to decide if they should try me out. It’s a bit early in my career for it, but I’ve been proving myself and I think they see it.”

“Oh,” Joseph said, intrigued. “That’s awesome, then! I hope it all works out for you!”

“Of course! And you’ll be the first to know if it does!” Muir said, his grin splitting his face. It drooped and he hesitated. “Er, if you want to be friends, that is. Maybe I can help you figure out what you want to do with your life.”

“Oh yes,” Joseph said eagerly. “I could definitely use a friend.”

“Good,” Muir said with a grin. “I wonder…. I want to talk to the nurses real quick. I’ll be back.”

Muir hopped up and left, the smell of his excitement still hanging in the air. Joseph slipped the headphones back on, not really paying attention to the music as he waited for Muir to come back. 

Muri came back after another 20 minutes, a bag in his hand. Joseph pulled the headphones off and Muir said, “Alright. The nurses said you can check out tonight.”

“Check out? Where am I going? With you?”

“Yup! I had some extra clothes in my car so you can put these on and we can get out of here. I thought you’d probably like to sleep somewhere quiet tonight.”

“Oh, I certainly do,” Joseph said, pushing the blankets off his lap and turning to sit on the edge of the bed as a nurse, the same one who brought him the noise canceling headphones, came to unplug him from the drips. 

Once that was over and the small holes in his skin healed, Joseph stood up, taking the clothes and heading into the bathroom to change. 

The clothing was a bit big on him, but after rolling the top of the pants down inside once they held just fine. He stepped out, shifting the shirt to sit properly on his shoulders before taking the shoes Muir held out for him. 

“We’ll get you some better shoes later,” Muir said with a smile. 

Joseph nodded, grinning. The two walked out, Joseph shuffling a little to keep the shoes on his feet. Muir had already registered his address with the lady at the desk and they were set to go. 

“I think the rehab people will come to meet you around 2 tomorrow? I’ll be at work, but the hospital will let them know to go to my house.”

“Cool,” Joseph said, his shuffling steps feeling strange. They were smoother than he thought they would be, as though there hadn’t been three years and a regeneration in between the last time he walked and now. 

“And then we can get you clothes and stuff tomorrow night,” Muir said as he got into his car. Joseph entered on the passenger’s side and buckled his seat belt, relaxing as heard the familiar sound of a car starting. 

They soon left the hospital parking lot and drove down roads as the sun to the left of them as they hit the highway. Joseph watched the world pass by in awe, the rumble of the car soothing to his fragile mind. 

Maybe he’d be fine. Maybe one day he’d be healed and forget about what happened and he could move on. Maybe when he had something good to do with his life and-

But who would he share it with? His bond with David was empty. It was gnawing on him, crushing his soul and begging to be fed. He had been without a pairbond for three years and his body and mind were beginning to realize it. David was gone and he could still remember feeling his pain through the bond, could still hear his screams. He remembered when the blade had entered David’s heart and killed him. The pain and fear had been unlike anything Joseph had ever felt. His and David’s mingle fear, the pain, David reaching through the bond searching for comfort, searching to be sure Joseph was still okay, and then the knife had come down. 

It was like losing a limb. Crushed in a combine’s mechanics, shattered and torn and shredded and bloodied and violently taken in a moment that could never be changed and never be reversed. The emptiness had consumed Joseph’s mind entirely. Going from all that noise to dead silence where his own fear and pain echoed down and back again through broken links. 

He would never get David back and the pain would last forever. It felt like it would last forever. How was he supposed to deal with it all? How was he meant to survive this?

He grabbed on tightly to whatever was pressed against him. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t hear, he couldn’t feel. All he knew were the memories of David’s gargled screams and the broken bond as his sire and bondmate died. 

He knew he would need to pairbond again eventually, and that sent a new wave of sorrow through him. Was it not enough to be on his own? To always remember David and cherish his memory? He was Demijeoa. He would have to pairbond again to heal, but he couldn’t imagine it. He couldn’t imagine pairing with anyone after that. 

He pressed his face into soft fabric, sobbing desperately, unable to alleviate the pain. He realized someone was running a hand through his hair, untangling it and running down his back in strokes, and then he recognized the smell. 

He lifted his head to find Miur looking out a window, though Joseph’s stirring brought his attention back down. “Hey, are you back?”

Joseph felt a wave of sorrow and embarrassment so strong it sent him to hiding in Muir’s shoulder again. 

“Hey, man. It’s going to be alright. Promise. Do you want to talk about it?”

“”S not gonna be alright,” he mumbled. “He’s dead.”

He felt Muir tense up, but he didn’t stop rubbing Joseph’s back. “I know, I’m really sorry.”

Joseph let out a shuddering sigh, simply letting Muir quietly comfort him. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

“You don’t have to. Not right now. Right now, it’s enough to just grieve. I know losing a bondmate is painful, even if I can’t really understand it.”

Joseph nodded before peeling himself away from Muir, scrubbing his face. 

“Are you going to be okay?” Muir asked.

Joseph just nodded so Muir turned off the hazard lights, signaled, and got back on the road. It was dark now, and Joseph was so tired he just laid his head against the window and let the rattle of the road bruise his head repeatedly. 

Joseph was asleep by the time Muir pulled into his driveway. He got out and went to the passenger seat, opening the door quickly and propping up Joseph to keep him from falling on the pavement. The vampire slept like a dead thing as Muir closed the car door with his hip and walked up the steps to the house. 

After some awkward shuffling, he managed to unlock the door and step inside. He walked through the house to his bedroom where he set the vampire on his bed. He coaxed the blankets over him and went back to the front door to lock it. 

After a quick snack and a shower, he got ready for bed and slept on the couch in the living room. 

………………………………………………..

Joseph woke in a comfortable bed wrapped in blankets that smelled enough like Muir to tell him that Muir had given his bed up to Joseph. He sighed, pressing his face into the pillow for a moment before rolling over and out of the bed. 

He poked his head out into the hall, looking around. There was another room set up with a desk and walls lined with cork board, though only one was in use. He soon found the bathroom and cleaned up before going to the living room. 

Muri laid on the couch, bundled in blankets and snoring very softly. Joseph hummed and decided to make breakfast. 

There wasn’t much in the kitchen and he ended up just improvising with some quick oats and eggs, as well as getting some coffee ready. 

He heard Muir wake up and smiled when he heard Muir’s small confused noise when he smelled food. 

He stumbled in, wearing sweatpants and a blanket cape as Joseph turned, scooting a plate of food across the island to him. 

“Got the coffee started a bit late but it should be done in a mo.”

“Thanks,” Muir said, surprised. 

“You're welcome. And no offense, but do you live on oatmeal, eggs, and canned chili?”

“Er, no. I tend to grab food while I’m working,” he said, fishing a fork out of the dishwasher and sitting on one of the stools to eat. 

Joseph rolled his eyes and sat down next to him once the coffee was done. Muir took the coffee eagerly, taking a sip and closing his eyes in delight. They ate in silence for a minute before Muir said, “So I guess this means you want me to buy more food.”

Joseph snorted. “Yes. You’ll end up with kidney stones if you keep eating like you are.”

Muir shook his head and downed his coffee. “Alrighty, then. I’d better go get ready.”

“Kay,” Joseph said, enjoying his breakfast a bit more slowly. 

When Muir came back, he was dressed in his uniform and ready to go. “I left a note on the computer with the password. Feel free to surf the web while I’m gone. Just remember-”

“The meeting at 2:00. I got it,” Joseph said, putting the dishes in the sink while he unloaded the dishwasher. 

“Yup. I might stop by on one of my breaks, but we’ll see.”

“Alright. See ya.”

“Bye.”

The door closed, the key scraped in the lock, and Joseph was alone. 

Joseph stood in the kitchen, his heart pounding in his throat as the silence pressed in on him. Silence like silver. 

He shook his head. He was not interested in having another breakdown today. Not right now. He was going to hold it together and if he needed to cry himself to sleep that night, then by the stars he would cry himself to sleep. 

He rifled through the kitchen, putting things away as he went along until he’d taken care of the dishes. He loaded the new ones into the dishwasher and closed it. 

He supposed the next thing he could do would be to catch up on what he’d missed. 

He went to the room with the cork board walls, glancing at the images and notes tacked there. It was a missing person’s case about a little girl. He hummed, looking at the little girl’s face. Did anyone look for him and David like this? Did someone in the world string up their names and faces, staring at them in the hopes that it would provide some clue?

Joseph shrugged off the image and sat at the computer, typing in the string of letters and numbers from the sticky note and opening up the search engine. 

He stared at the blinking bar for a moment, uncertain of what he should do before he started pulling up the social media accounts he’d had and opening them up to see what there was to see. 

Joseph: @not-a-space-alien @why-not-ask-me-a-better-question

From Dust to Ashes: @writereleaserepeat @currentlyinthespiral

Part 6

Let me know if you want to be on the taglist

[cloudofdarkness]

Haunting

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning

:Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Category: M/M

Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV

Relationship: G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch/Warrior of Light

Characters:

Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV)

G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch

Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch

Additional Tags:

Romance Implied

Drabble

Angst

Language: English

Words:1,381

Give a like and Fave here as well if you please!!

The only real thing keeping you from reaching your full potential is self doubt :)

just a shorter thing, but something nonetheless

There was someone in his room.

“Ardbert?”

But as he turned on his heel, the warrior of darkness found it the exact opposite of welcome company, his guard immediately shooting up in defense at the sight of the ascian.

“Quite popular, are we? And here I thought it was only the Exarch and I who frequented your quarters.” His golden eyes shone with intrigue, watching the hero collect himself, though he could sense the unease in him from malms away, and so he further pushed him, taking up the little note on the table which had been neatly tucked under a basket. “Though honestly, at least I can admit to it. Look at this pathetic drivel. He may as well have writ a heart next to it with how mush it is.”

“What do you want, Emet-Selch?” A’tali did his best to bite back any tense words, though his tail was no dishonest display, slowly and cautiously swaying back and forth as he watched the ascian’s every move. If he’d visited before, why show himself now?

“Oh don’t be so guarded, I merely came to talk. Spending time alone becomes dreadfully boring after awhile.” Politely as one of his nature could, the ascian set the now opened letter back down, standing himself from his chair and crossing the room, much to the warrior’s discomfort. He didn’t exactly hate the other, but with the stress of everything else on his shoulders, he certainly didn’t welcome his company right now. And yet, despite his unwelcome presence, A’tali couldn’t help but bend an ear in case some sort of story were to spill from him as it had in past cases. He didn’t know what it was, but he almost wanted to believe them.

“Well, talk then. Mayhap you could actually finish one of your tales this time around without being quite so cryptic about it.” He huffed, tail flickering slightly as he crossed the room the other way, casually picking one of the sandwich corners from the well-laid basket and situating himself against the mini kitchen’s counter. The ascian watched him do this, observative eyes flickering between the note, the basket, and then him. Curious.

“On the contrary, I believe I would ask you a thing or two.”

The warrior’s ear flickered in question, pausing mid-bite on his food and instead turning to the other with a brow cocked in question. “What’s there to know? Can’t you ask your other ascian friends about me? I’m sure they’ll have much to tell you.” Was it wrong to give the other a little cheek? It did happen to slip whenever he was tired, doubly so around unwelcome guests.

As he expected, he earned a scoff from the other, watching the jewel on his earring daintily swing back and forth with the shake of his head. “Tis not about you that I would prod, but about what you know. What goes on in that odd mind of yours.” A pause, eyes flicking now to the small outline of a tattoo poking out from the warrior’s sleeveless shirt. “For instance, what you know of the Exarch.”

“About the Exarch? No more than you, I’d wager.” He simply shrugged, though something bothered him in the way that he spoke it. Was he supposed to know something about the Exarch? He had kept to himself quite a bit but there was that bit of him that always seemed to want to tell him more. “He commands the Crystal Tower as well as the Crystarium, with a kind rule. He appears to be unaging. He has a multitude of knowledge, despite appearing so young...and he seems to harbor a small sense for mischief. Spectacular at using magicks, though he says he owes it mostly to the tower. Truly that’s all I could tell you.” He took a bite then, uninterested in answering any further questions.

“And this Crystal Tower, it hails from the Source, does it not? I hear you were the one to traverse it and take down its unsightly ruler.” The ascian spoke it like he knew of his tales, so why was there any question to it? Clearly, he was prodding for something. Something the warrior knew not what.

“If you’ve a point in all of this, gladly make it.” The warrior sighed, quite frankly growing tired of his annoying habit of dancing around the point. He watched Emet-Selch simply shrug, the look in his eyes as unaffected as if he’d just plainly stated hello to the other.

“I just believe it to be odd that the Exarch was able to pull it from a point in time where it lacked a proper ruler. You would know if it were missing in your time, and the only other moment would be of the future. Yet, it would seem at that time there was only a singular candidate worthy of controlling the tower. Strange then, that the Exarch would know of Xande, but not of him.”

It was as if he’d finally gotten to what he’d been waiting to say this entire time, driving that wooden stake of annoyance into A’tali’s chest. He set his food down politely however, wanting to be the bigger person as he simply waved the small accusation off. “It could have always been in the far future, there was always the possibility of another ruler.”

“But you don’t truly believe that, do you?” It was spoken flatly, and further pressed that stake into the warrior’s chest. For the ascian to be so calm about this, to watch the warrior shrink under his gaze, his aura to burn bright with doubt, it unnerved him. “Why is that, I wonder? Unless- Oh!” His gasp was dramatic, overplayed. Fake. “Unless you knew the final holder. Cared about him. Watched as he sealed himself away~”

The warrior’s ears lowered in shame, his huffy comebacks fading as Emet-Selch’s teasing accusations slid down his spine like a cold chill, ringing and reminding him of his doubts he’d tried so hard to bury under everything else. There was no way. It wasn’t possible. “My feelings are irrelevant on the matter. If the Crystal Exarch were to know me, he’d tell me. He has no reason to lie to me about such a thing.”

“That’s truly what you think then? You’ll sit and wallow in doubt and naivety despite the fact that you can’t displace his scent? His voice? All because you believe you don’t deserve things to go your way for once?” A sigh, as he looked the warrior up and down, noting his avoidant gaze, his clenched fist shaking as if he were near hitting something. He knew what the ascian was saying was true, but he’d never admit it.

“...even if what I believe is true...there’s no way fate could ever gift me with something like that. If I see him again, I’m just going to lose him, because that is exactly how things play out for me.” There was a catch in his voice at his last words, and he could feel the stinging sensation in his eyes of prickling tears. Not now dammit. Not when he was in the presence of the other. “So I would rather never know. Then...mayhap that would keep him safe.”

He wouldn’t dare meet the ascian’s gaze now, for his eyes would be near glistening with kept in tears. Though all he could hear was that disappointed sigh, the small jingle of that earring as he shook his head. “Then I suppose there’s no arguing with you. You’re truly hopeless in terms of seeing the truth. What am I ever to do with you if you can’t even see what’s right in front of you~?” He spoke it like a childish hum, as he approached the doors of his room, his gloved hands gently flattening themselves against the polished wood. “Then again, I suppose there’s always time to break you out of that shell of yours. Let’s hope you don’t waste too much of mine.” He knew A’tali wouldn’t meet his gaze, but still he turned to look back at him. “I implore you to think on this. It might prove important sometime in the future.”

And with that, he was gone.

And then, he was truly alone.

[sukirichi]

omg sorry im the anon who picked too many spices i’m so sorry 😭😭 so let me try again: wine for yuuta, ingredient 53, and spice 8 10 11?

good for you

People said all bad things about him, how he wasn’t good for you, he was going to toy with you, he was someone you needed to stay away from, but that wasn’t true.

meal order: wine + 53 (bad boy good girl au) + 8, 10 (dumbification, begging kink) 

warnings: nsfw content, fingering, dumbification, begging kink, slight voyeurism, slight corruption kink, bad boy! yuuta, unedited fic

note: soooo anon...i hope you like this, this is my first yuta fic and i was really nervous i was gonna mess this up, sheesh, hope you like it and thank you for the request! have some wine~

masterlist !

You were so good for him – it made sense you were his favorite.

The moment you felt his cold fingers graze under your shirt, fingers lightly tugging at the clasps of your bra as a promise of what was to come next, you shuddered from his touch. You leaned back to his body, your hand clutching his that was gripping your thigh.

“Yuta,” you bit your lip to hold back a moan, his expert hands sliding down your inner thighs to brush over your clothed cunt, teasing you to no end. “We-we shouldn’t.”

“And why not?” his husky voice sent shivers down your spine, and you gasped as his fingers tugged your panties away. He’d barely even touched you, yet you were soaking wet for him already. Two of his fingers slipped past your folds easily and you clamped down as he scissored you, finally releasing your bra and easing it off your shoulders. “They won’t know. We’re just studying, remember?”

Your relationship with Yuta was complicated, to say the least. Last month, your homeroom teacher assigned you to tutor him, and your eyes widened because the last person you expected to see was the notorious Okkotsu Yuta who barely attended school, preferring to live life in his own way.

He looked scary then; dark circles hanging heavily under amused eyes, slicked back hair that shone under the sunlight, and a half-sneer as an excuse for a smile.

He terrified you, until he didn’t. Contrary to what people said about him, how he wasn’t good for you, he was going to toy with you, he was someone you needed to stay away from, you never thought that way about Yuta. And he knew this too; he took advantage of your unconditional kindness, basking in your shy, soft touches and stuttering during study sessions whenever he stared at you a little longer than you expected.

You were so fucking cute he just couldn’t keep his hands off of you. He blamed you for it, really. He wouldn’t have been this addicted to the quiet, timid girl who followed rules and apologized way too much than necessary if you weren’t such a good girl for him.

But you were so cute, so curious and innocent that Yuta, being the more responsible and experienced one between the both of you, just had to give in to your pleas. Soon, your shy touches became eager ones, grinding on his thigh with your hands  tugging at his collar while you begged for a kiss. You were so pretty too, always so ready and wanting for him, but oh, everything was different when you begged.

If he thought you were pretty before, it was nothing compared to when you begged.

Innocent eyes gazing up at him under thick lashes, small hands wrapped around the thick base of his cock, your pretty red lips begging to taste him – you were at your prettiest when you were begging for him, and how could he deny you?

It was because you were so good for him that he Yuta wasn’t selfish when it came to pleasing you, his cock hardening when your head fell back on his shoulders, lips open as wantons flooded through your lips. “Shh,” he chuckled with a kiss to your lips, his fingers pumping in and out of you until you were dripping down on his palm, the sopping sounds of your pussy nearly embarrassing. “You don’t want to be loud, baby, your parents will hear you.”

At the possibility of getting caught, your eyes widened, and you slapped your palm over your mouth to hide your sinful moans. Yuta’s eyes darkened as you trembled in his arms, trying so hard to be a good girl and keep your reputation, but the way you grinded down onto his fingers told a different story.

“Y-Yuta,” you cried out, reaching up to capture his lips in a kiss. He swallowed your moans while his other hand gripped your thighs tighter, your ass barely grazing his painful erection. “I need more, please, will you-will you-?”

“What do you want, baby? I can’t give it to you if you don’t tell me.”

Yuta smirked when you whimpered in his hold, your hips pumping up and down as you rode his fingers. It felt good, but it wasn’t enough. You knew he could give you more, and Yuta would gladly do anything for you as long as you said it.

The sight of you cumming all over his fingers, tits perked from under your shirt yet still looking so innocent from your shirt skirt – he could cum in his pants just watching you. But he held it all in, fully aware that you wanted him inside you, though your shyness still remained. Ironic, really, since Yuta had already lost count of the times he had to stuff your panties down your mouth as he dragged you to the nearest empty classroom, making you cum either just on his tongue or cock alone.

He figured he’d have ruined you by now, but you were just so good, such an innocent, pretty little thing that the mere mention of his dick had you flustered.

“Yuta, I can’t – you-you know what I mean,” you palmed him through his pants. Yuta hissed at how you pulled his cock out free from his confines, the warmth of your hand wrapping around his cock, the tip already flushed and red.

He gripped your wrist and pulled you towards him, resting your ass just above his cock. A dark look crossed his face when he saw you inhale sharply as he rubbed his tip all over your lips, your pink panties tugged all the way to the side, the material loosely clinging onto the fat of your flesh. 

“Is this what you want,” he teased, hands placed on a tight grip of your hips as he slowly sank you down his length. He reveled at how you slowly lost yourself, thighs quaking, and it was just only the tip. “Do you deserve it, baby? Have you been a good girl for me that you think you deserve to feel good?”

“Yes, yes, of course!”

Your eyes were focused on the remaining length of his cock that wasn’t buried in you, and you were so needy, so fucking wet and horny that you wiggled your hips, a slight whine echoing from the room when Yuta only tightened his hips on you as a warning. “Don’t move,” he growled lowly, and like the good girl you were, you complied, bottom lip jutted out. “You don’t get to sit on my lap when you don’t beg hard enough for it, baby.”

“But, oh,” you tried to say, your words cut off when Yuta suddenly gripped your ass down all the way down his length in one go, your ass flat on his thighs.  

Both of you groaned at the feeling of him buried deep inside you; you could feel him pulsing inside your heat already. Unsatisfied with your silence, Yuta slapped your ass, forcing you to look at him. 

He was perfectly content with you cockwarming him; he could jack himself off later, but he knew you couldn’t satisfy yourself – not when your needy little cunt always wanted to be stuffed full with his dick.

“My parents are downstairs,” you tried to reason, though your actions betrayed your words as you dug your nails on his shoulders, eyes closed from the pleasure. Yuta gave small, slow thrusts, the movement just enough to scrape at your walls, almost as if to mock you that you could’ve had an orgasm by now if you just complied. “I-if they hear, they’re going to get mad, and they’ll find out that—”

“They’re going to find out what?” he thrusted his hips into yours sharply until your skirt was bunched all over your ass, his hands rough and hungry while he kept you in place. Your moans filled the room, and Yuta gripped one of your legs to press on your sides, thigh-high socks teasing and plumping up the flesh of your legs. “That their sweet, innocent daughter isn’t such a good girl after all? Look at you, walking around in school wearing that. You’re always begging to be fucked, baby.”

You didn’t deny him because his words were true, and soon Yuta had you choking in your own breath. He wanted to make you beg, to go down on your knees just to show him you deserved it, but you clenched down on him so hard that he lost himself too.

Yuta pulled you in for a heated kiss, his strong hands wrapping your legs around his waist before dropping you both down on the bed.

He didn’t bother pulling his shirt off, only jumping out of his slacks before he found home in between your legs. Yuta chuckled at how fucked out you were before him, teeth deep into one of your stuffed toys while he kept fucking into you. 

He fell forward, hands planted beside your head, his dick scraping against the warm walls of your pussy.

You were close; he could feel it. Yuta picked up his pace and started littering lovemarks on your neck, somewhere people could see his markings and to claim you as his good girl.

You were such a good girl for him, letting him pump himself into you in a rough pace until you could no longer hold back your moans. “Yuta, Yuta, god, you-you feel so good, right there, oh,” you were a mess on his cock, drool collecting from your pillow and tongue lolled out. 

He found you so pretty, so gorgeous and so good; screaming his name like that even as your parents called out to ask if you were fine just because you knew he liked it when you said his name while you were stuffed with his cock.

“Come on, baby,” he gripped your waist this time, not slowing down for a moment as his thrusts grew sloppy. Yuta’s dick twitched and pulsed harder inside you when your walls hugged him tightly, sucking him in too deep that he was hitting your most sensitive spots. “You’re close, aren’t you? You want to cum on my cock? Beg for it, come on.”

“Yuta, Yuta, please please please, want to cum on your cock, want you to fill me up,” your back arched when he hit your g-spot, your vision turning white for a moment. “Fuck, fuck, Yuta, fuck me good – please, I want you, there, please!”

His dick only further hardened upon hearing such dirty words fall from your pretty lips. You were begging so good for him, following his orders and making him feel good with your pretty pussy – how could he deny you? People said all bad things about him, how he wasn’t good for you, he was going to toy with you, he was someone you needed to stay away from, but that wasn’t true. 

He kept fucking into you until you were creaming onto his cock, his name falling like a prayer on your wet mouth, losing all your sanity and comprehension when he spills inside you, your cum dripping down your ass.

Yuta chuckled before leaning down to kiss his pretty girl, so good for him, but what they didn’t know was that the bad boy was just as good for you, and he never failed to make you feel good.

They called him a bad boy, labeled him all sorts of things, warned you so much of the dangers he brought. 

Everyone was just simply unaware how he good he was for you.

[wangxianficrecs]

Follower Recs

Whoops.  Apparently I had not accidentally deleted these from the Asks, but rather, I’d put them all in a Draft and then lost them there.  Y’all forgive me.  And here, have so many fabulous follower and self-recs that I’m just gonna bump all these to the top of the queue and post a handful them each evening.  What a bonanza for us all!

~*~

welcome back!!! ✨✨✨  may I rec my own fic? [Always!] you might remember back in the summer I sent an ask about a wangxian canon-divergent fix-it I was writing..... it's done now, and fully uploaded! it's the first time I've written something that long and entirely completed it before starting to post, so it would mean a lot to me to see it posted here 💖 (I'm also the one who wrote the sizhui/jingyi 5+1, you, whose heart would sing of anarchy - [I loved that one and here’s my bookmark] ) ~ @wei--wuxian​

these colours fade for you only

by doodlebutt  (T, 36k,  wangxian)

Summary:  What if, before Wen Chao found Wei Wuxian in Yiling, Lan Wangji went looking for him?

What if...

"Tell me who did this to you." "Aiya, Lan Zhan, I really don't know what you're -- ah!" Lan Zhan tugged hard on the blue line that bound them together, and Wei Wuxian all but flew across the room, crashing into the bed with a pained groan and sinking to his knees on the floor. He supposed, slightly hysterically, that this must be something like what Jiang Cheng had felt when he had hit Wei Wuxian with all the force of a biting insect the day after his rescue. "You have no spiritual energy." "Haha, Lan Zhan, that's funny, because actually it's just that I --" "You have no golden core."

This diverges from MDZS canon rather than CQL (so no yin iron, etc)

~*~

2. I’m glad your break did you well! Also happy late birthday~ I hope you had a wonderful birthday! [Omg, this has been sitting in the inbox for A WHILE, I see, but thank you!]  I have a few recs I’ve been stocking up lol I don’t want to overwhelm you as soon as you get back so here’s just a few - 

i carry your heart with me

by lulu_kitty (G, 12k, wangxian) -  LWJ gets De-aged by curse

Summary:  “Wei-qianbei, I don’t understand. What sort of curse is this?” Lan Jingyi whispers shakily.

He moves aside to reveal a small figure huddled in his husband's robes. A young child, no older than five or six, looking around in both confusion and fear.

Wei Wuxian can’t breathe.

Because the little boy has a Lan clan ribbon dangling loosely around his neck.

"...Lan Zhan?"

Or, Lan Wangji is temporarily cursed back into his six year old self. Wei Wuxian and his family must reconcile with the unexpected feelings that it brings.

Stunted, Starving Juvenility

by TomatenMark (E, 187k, wangxian, WIP) -  WY realizes his feelings for LZ during Study arc

Summary:  At sixteen Wei Wuxian is - through some strange twist of fate, or a nick in the layer between parallel universes, who knows – out of the blue confronted with that one incense burner dream one night.

While his curious mind is left unable to stop poking at this new perspective on Lan Wangji, circumstances in the Cloud Recesses begin to change and Wei Wuxian is suddenly presented with life-altering opportunities.

Maybe Gusu isn’t so bad after all?

(Or alternatively: The fic where I get to give Wei Wuxian the academical scholarship he deserves while simultaneously getting him hitched early on.)

Falling to the Rhythm

by Selenay (E, 129k, wangxian) -  dancing with the stars au

Summary:  "So it's a bet?" Jiang Cheng said. "Dance the showcase if you get him, fancy coffee machine if you don't?"

Wei Wuxian considered the machine. "Fine. You're on. I want it in red."

"Don't start planning your caffeine overdose yet."

"It's in the bag," Wei Wuxian said cheerfully. "There's no way they'll match me with someone like Lan Wangji."

Teaching Lan Wangji to dance in front of the nation for twelve weeks, how hard can that be? Wei Wuxian is about to find out.

the roots in my heart (also grow in yours)

by halfdemonvash (M, 17k, wangxian) -  Modern Botanist au

Summary:  Wei Ying is just your local plant cryptid who may or may not have an illegal greenhouse. Lan Zhan is from a bougie family of botanists that Wei Ying wants nothing to do with.

Until he hears about a rare type of fern, that is.

Night of the Living History (an edutainment special!)

by Aerlalaith (T, 52k, wangxian) - modern w/magic museum au

Summary:  It doesn’t mean much coming from Jiang Cheng, Wei Ying thinks. He’s pretty sure Jiang Cheng has to be coaxed out of his hanfu by the laundry wranglers. He doesn’t even think he’s seen Jiang Cheng suffer a pair of jeans in three weeks. He thinks Jiang Cheng takes home the underclothes and sleeps in them, cuddling the knockoff Zidian like a teddy bear.

Wei Ying lands a job as the Yiling Patriarch at the Lanling Cultivation Museum. Lan Zhan (Hanguang-Jun 4x per week, Sect Leader Lan 2x per week) suffers accordingly.

~*~

I’m gonna stop here and give you some more tomorrow!

[sillydreamer]

nsfw headcanonds: reaction to his first blowjob for the mcl boys

NSFW; MCL boys reacting their first blowjob (headcanons)

Ohhh yeah, some nice content at your request Anon, here's it; hot and just taken out of the oven. Enjoy it :D

Warning: NSFW content below, if you're not into this please stop here.

Castiel:

Whenever they spoke about it or not he was surprised. Well surprised isn't the right word. He's extremely I M P R E S S E D

The touch of their tongue around his dick make a chill ran down his spine, making a loud moan.

Even Castiel is surprised about how loud he was but he couldn't keep it inside he just-

If they continue Castiel will touch the hair of their head and he'll press harder.

He just becomes hundred times hornier and moans incredibly loud, asking for more.

He's just hopeless and cums right on their mouth, whatever they try to swallow it or not he's okay. Castiel is in heaven.

After this he'll be begging for more, he loved the experience and wants to feel it again.

Nathaniel:

He's more nervous at first. "Are you sure that you want to try this?" he asked.

Nathaniel wouldn't deny that he's curious but he still feels unsure. He felt their hand touching him and he gasped.

He would just look at them, amazed and turned on. Nathaniel is just whimpering and slowly closing his eyes at the same time that his lips press down to remain silent.

He'll caress their hair to show how good he's feeling.

At first he was shy about moaning but at the end he'll let everything go, including the cum.

In case that they didn't have the time to take it out Nathaniel will apologize about doing it. He's very worried about them and will bring water or anything.

Lysander:

Is really surprised and like Castiel his body trembled, unconsciously he's going to pull their scalp, letting a soft groan escape from his lips and isn't ashamed of it.

Of course he's horny but cares for their safety, making sure that their hair is out of their face and whispering soft words "You're so good...don't force yourself agh-"

Threats them like the most delicate thing in the world and tries to avoid hard movements but can't let but move his hips a little bit.

Lysander's breathing will start accelerating and his muscles are starting to tense when he's at his limit.

Don't forget that he's a gentleman and remembers in the last second to warn them that he's about to cum, thinking that they'll take his dick out of their mouth.

If they swallow it or not he's okay with it, he just enjoyed it and is a haze.

Armin:

While the others are nervous and with doubts Armin is more like "Okay let's see how this ends up and whatever it happens I'm never going to be disappointed" mood.

Also he guides them and doesn't stay still like the others (because he isn't ashamed of it- DO YOU HEAR ME GUYS-) and gives some advices because he's kind.

His confidence turns off at the exact moment that they tongue touches the tip of his dick and now he looses himself.

Tells them to forget everything that he has said to her and just do it as she pleases because her mouth is doing a great job.

Compliments all the time and as I said he doesn't feel any shame about saying everything that runs through his head.

Still he forgets to warn when he's about to cum and just do its. Later on Armin runs for paper and apologizes but gives the hint that he'll like another one and if it's possible, the chance to give oral to his lover.

Kentin:

Even if they already speak bout it Kentin is nervous about hurting his partner and tries to stop them.

After a short talk to clarify things he'll just try to relax and leave them be.

Even before their mouth touches him he'll be extra hard and a loud moan leaves his lips, followed by others.

Touches their hair while screams his lover's name.

Doesn't takes long before he reaches his limit and releases everything.

Really loved it but takes time to take care of them, cleaning their face and bringing water.

[zhonglisbeckandcall]

Movement| Guili| Zhongli x Guizhong| Family AU

I’m sorry if this one isn’t as good, I’ve been really busy and haven’t thought of great ideas. Thank you to my good friend Gil for Beta reading, he’s brilliant 🤩

Cw: pregnancy

Guizhong didn’t even notice her bump was showing until a few days earlier, when she was getting herself changed from having a hot but not too hot bath. She stepped out of the tub and reached for the towel, it was then when she wrapped the towel around her body where she noticed how much her stomach grew, travelling her fingers underneath the bump and she beamed at the sight. She wanted to get Zhongli so she could show off her new discovery.

“Zhongli! Come here!” She shouted from the bathroom, her tone making Zhongli panic which caused him to be in the bathroom in a matter of seconds.

“Is everything alright, Guizhong?” Zhongli asked with slight worry, preparing himself mentally for anything. He skimmed Guizhongs body, not noticing anything alarming, which made him raise an eyebrow.

“Zhongli, my baby bump is showing,” She smiled as she lifted the towel to show him her bare skin which was in fact revealing her slightly rounded stomach. Zhongli looked down and something inside him started to glow, which made him bend down on his knees, placing his hands on her waist as he eyed her bump. He smiled at it, giving it a gentle kiss.

“Our little dragon is finally showing,” Guizhong felt Zhonglis smile into her bump, feeling happy that she’s finally showing.

“Now people will not question about you expecting,” He comments, kissing the bump once more before standing up to then place his lips Guizhong forehead,

“I haven’t felt them kick yet, it could happen this week I hope,” She stroked Zhonglis dark hair as he still rested his head on her tummy gently

“They’ll be asleep, my Lily, they’ll wake up soon,” Zhongli secretly hoped the baby would’ve kicked as he was peppering his kisses. Of course, Guizhong was at 20 weeks now and that’s when she’d start to feel the slight flutters of her child.

“If they kick, I’ll let you know, Zhongli, don’t worry,” Guizhong promised, letting her husband pamper her and their child with more kisses.

Two week passed and Guizhong travelled to Inazuma to visit Ei and Makoto, Zhongli staying behind and watching over the assembly. She hadn’t managed to visit since the wedding and Guizhong wanted to try and do as much as possible until she had to start preparing for the baby, knowing that when she reached 30 weeks, she would need to start relaxing more. Guizhong herself didn't want to, but it’s what Zhongli requested of her, too worried that she’d get hurt or even worse, their baby, so Guizhong put his worries at ease by promising him that when she reached 30 weeks, she’d stay within the village and not travel.

Guizhong sat at the table across from Ei and Makoto, taking a small sip of her warm tea when she suddenly felt something odd in her stomach, something that was unfamiliar to her and she started to get concerned, but she didn’t jump to conclusions. She felt it again, this time more clearly, her baby was kicking for the first time, moving their tiny little body. She instantly smiled and rubbed the part of her bump that was fluttering. Ei and Makoto notice her actions and become curious as to what was happening.

“Is everything alright, Lady Guizhong?” Makoto questioned, wondering if she should be alarmed.

“My baby is kicking me for the first time!” Guizhong replied, continuing to feel the movements that made her so ecstatic,

“This is the first time you felt them? Oh how exciting!” Makoto clapped with excitement

“Would you like to feel?” The goddess offers, and both the twins jump up from their seats to move closer to Guizhong. Makoto wasted no time to place her hand on the goddess’s stomach to feel while Ei hesitated slightly. She didn’t find it disgusting or anything, she was rather flustered at things like this, but Guizhong took Ei’s hand anyway, feeling the baby being very active as her medium size bump moved slightly.

“Oh my! That’s such a weird feeling but it’s so fascinating, do you know what you’re having?” Ei was eager to know.

“Unfortunately, we don’t know,” Guizhong said sadly. She really wanted to know what she was expecting, she thought a little zhongli running around would be funny but then she thought maybe a mini Guizhong and that caused her to giggle, either way, she’s happy. Zhongli did have this discussion with her and he’d guessed on a boy. The Yakshas all placed their votes and four said boy and one said girl, Bosacius being the odd one out, hoping for a little sister figure he could watch over and protect.

“I’m guessing a boy, a tiny Morax would be a sight,” Makoto guesses,

“Well I think it’ll be a girl,” Ei argues, with her hand still on Guizhongs stomach “I think they’ve stopped,” she also adds,

“Yes they have, they must be tired,” Guizhong sighed with relief, letting the twins remove their hands so she could pull her hanfu down. “Morax won’t be happy that you’ve felt our baby before him,”

“He’ll get over it,”

Guizhing returned to Liyue the evening after and Zhongli was very glad to see her back. Although she had only been gone for a full day, he missed her dearly. It had been a while since they were apart for so long and Zhongli was practically suffering without her. She made plans to walk to the Yakshas’ camp the same day she got back from Inazuma but Zhongli was adamant that she rested a day before travelling again.Night time arrived and they were spending their time together cuddling, Guizhong snuggling into the geo archon's bare chest while she was wearing her usual nightgown. Zhongli asked about her small trip to Inazuma and Guizhong was happy to tell him the electro archons were both doing very well and that she and Zhongli were always welcomed back to visit, with the baby of course. She didn’t fail to tell him that she felt the baby kick and as soon as the words came out of her mouth, her husband's face twisted into a slight frown.

“Although I wanted to be one of the first to feel them, there will be another time. I do not want to disturb them right now,” Zhongli said rationally although on the inside he was gutted. But it only became torture for the next week and two.

Zhongli was still unsuccessful at his mission to feel the baby kick. Everytime he rested his hand on Guizhongs tummy, the baby would remain perfectly still, as if to drive him crazy. Even Barbatos felt the baby kick before him and teased him about it, all it took was for the anemo archon to play the flute and then to feel the happy fetus practically dancing to his music inside Guizhongs womb. But yet they wouldn’t even say hello to their own papa. Zhongli would try to feel them but as soon as his hand touched his wife’s tummy, nothing, he’d feel nothing and it always made him frown.

“You’ll feel them soon Zhongli, don’t forget, you have months until they arrive,” Guizhong comforted the sad archon by caressing his dark hair.

But the time that drove him to the limit was when they were visiting the five yakshas In their camp. The sun was shining and everyone was enjoying the company, but then everyone jumped and hurried towards Guizhong as she once again felt baby Guili fluttering,

“I wanna feel them first!” Bosacius placed his huge four hands and made sure he covered all of Guizhongs bump, smiling when he felt the thump thump.

“My turn!” Bonanus shouted letting Bosacius remove his multiple hands, letting the hydro Yaksha and then the rest of the Yakshas get the chance to experience the unborn baby kick their little feet. Poor Xiao was too frightened to touch Guizhong just in case he hurt Guizhong or even worse, the baby, but Guizhong still managed to convince him and he was stunned at the sensation of the baby’s movement. Meanwhile, Morax was trying not to get upset at the sight, as much as it was sweet to see, he wanted to experience that feeling, that feeling of glee when he can finally say hi to his unborn baby and then for them to greet him back.

It got dark which meant it was time for Zhongli and Guizhong to head back to Guili plains. As soon as they got home, Guizhong got into her nightgown and went straight to sleep in their bed. Zhongli was still awake, he always liked to make sure she was sound asleep and safe before settling down for bed.

He put out all of the lights in the house except a small little candle burning in their bedroom at the corner of the room, took off his shirt and trousers to hang them up neatly so he was just in his boxers and climbed into bed and under the duvet to plant himself right behind his lover. Seeing her peacefully asleep made him smile, moving her hair away from neck so he could kiss it, lastly manoeuvring his arms under hers so his hands could rest on top of her baby bump before finally closing his eyes. It always took him a few minutes to settle and fall asleep but before he managed to rest his eyes fully, he felt the most unusual feeling underneath his hands, he didn’t think much of it until he felt it again, this time near his finger tips. He carefully sat up so he could put both hands on Guizhongs bump, waiting again for the same feeling and it happened again. His baby was finally saying hello to him, little thumps and bumps. The feeling makes Zhongli oh so happy, practically tail wagging if he had been in his dragon form.

“Hello little one, i'm glad you’re finally saying hello to me, I’m looking forward to meeting you in a few months time,” Zhongli whispered, kissing Guizhongs bump while trying to be as quiet as he could without waking her up, which he thought he’d managed to do, although Guizhong opened her eyes, looking around in confusion but then she came to realise what was happening, she smiled at herself without alerting Zhongli so she could watch him continue to talk to her bump and caress it with gentleness, now he can be happy and finally feel proud. Guizhong was certainly lucky to have him. A real catch.

[ptergwen]

written in the stars

w/c: 2.7k

warnings: jus (lots of) making out

summary: using your newly acquired knowledge of astrology, you test your compatibility with tom

a/n: i was planning on making this a little blurb for y’all but then i got really into it and here we are lmfhfksjks i promise you don’t have to know anything about astrology or birth charts to enjoy cuz i broke it all down + it’s not the main focus of the fic anyways! this is mostly a day in the life with tommy boy and i hope you like it as much as i do :,) also some of this might be wrong.. i’m not an expert so yeah

•┈୨♡୧┈•ﾟ｡

“right, so how does this work again?” tom watches your laptop screen with curious eyes.

you’ve been getting into astrology lately, and whatever you care about, so does he. that’s why you’re currently laid across your bed in sweats while you teach him everything you know. but first, you’ll need to do his birth chart. it’s the pinnacle of everything.

“you just have to tell me what time you were born, then it does the rest for me,” you grin, typing in the name of the website. you’d had to do some research to find a reliable one. “that��s it? you don’t need, like, my birthday or something?” tom quirks an eyebrow at the chart generator.

“i already know your birthday, babes.” you laugh softly and let your head fall onto his shoulder. “you crazy gemini.” “‘m not crazy.” he smiles despite himself, leaning his head on yours. “just got a big personality, innit? charming, clever, lots of energy,” he lists off the characteristics of his sign, which you just taught him. that lights up your whole face.

“definitely not cocky,” you deadpan, tom scrunching his nose in response. “look at you, remembering all that. you really are clever.” “well, it’s interesting.” he drapes an arm around you, fingers running up and down your side. “i quite like the idea of the universe knowing me so well.”

tapping your fingers on the keys, you hum. “you’ll love your birth chart, then. tell me when you were born.” tom grimaces and squeezes at your waist. “i don’t actually know.” “how do you not know?” you flick his back playfully, making him flinch. he pokes you so you’re even. “i’ve never thought to ask. guess i’m not that clever after all.”

those are teasing words, but you press a reassuring kiss to his cheek. he gladly accepts it and gives you one on the side of your neck.

“no, your head’s gigantic. there’s gotta be something up there.” you knock on his skull for emphasis, your hand tangling in his hair. tom lets out a breathy chuckle. “hot air,” he explains as your fingers run through the messy locks. “you’re so...” you don’t even have the words. tom does. “hilarious? witty? amusing?” he tries to finish, tilting his head back to look at you.

“yeah, all of the above,” you confer and bring your hand back down to the keyboard. your lips curve into a smirk when tom whines. he’s the biggest baby, and he makes no attempt to hide it. “why don’t you text your mom and ask for your time of birth?” you suggest, tom pursing his lips in agreement. “sure, i’ll give mum a ring. i bet she loves this stuff, too.”

you roll over to lay on your back, tom still on his stomach. he pulls his phone from his pocket and opens imessage. “ah, nikki’s an astrogirl?” you wonder. tom makes a funny face at the term. “is that what you call yourselves?” “not really. well, not officially.” giggling, you loop your fingers around his wrist. “you can be an astroboy, if you want. or girl.”

tom sighs and leans over so his face hovers above yours. “god, you’re adorable. how are you so cute?” he gently pecks your lips. you’re about to kiss back, then he moves off to your cheek. after that is your forehead, chin, and finally down the bridge of your nose. it leaves you out of breath from laughter and with warm skin.

“i can’t answer that if you’re gonna launch a kiss attack on me-“

tom’s lips capture yours in a proper kiss, which you now get the chance to reciprocate. you hold him in place with your hands on his cheeks. his eyes instantly flutter closed and lashes tickle your face. the feeling draws another giggle out of you, and right into his mouth.

“absolutely gorgeous,” tom mutters against your lips. “anyone ever tell you that?” “you do, tommy. all the time.” your voice comes out gravelly, breathless, a grin painting your face. it transfers to tom. “mm, that’s right. my pretty baby.” he’s beaming down at you. he moves on top of you swiftly, his weight held up by his elbows on your sides.

you pull apart so you can go back in harder, hands situating in his curls again. tom grabs at your hips while the kiss deepens. your legs wrap around his waist clad in joggers and allow your bodies to be even closer together. the less space between you two, the needier you both get. “love,” tom parts his lips for you. “can i get a little more?” “course you can, tommy.” your fingers tug at his curls, mouth opening slightly.

his tongue skims its way across your lower lip, asking for access. you give his hair another pull to grant it. tom lets his tongue slip into your mouth, searching for your own as his hands continue to roam your body. he’s gone from gently peppering you in kisses to fully eating your face. no complaints, though. a quiet whimper escapes you when your tongues clash.

tom starts to push up your t-shirt, eyes opening to meet yours for approval. they’re completely darkened. you nod because you can’t answer with words. your tongue is preoccupied, intertwined with his. he sets his hands on your bare stomach, your nails scratching at tom’s scalp in a way that elicits a low groan.

“feels good?” your words come out muffled, barely audible. tom still understands them. “so good,” he rasps, calloused fingers dragging along your skin. they start to move up your body as you brush your lips against his. the kiss is light, and tom’s lips feel swollen as they move. his hands are nearing your chest, your legs tightening around his waist.

it earns another sinful noise from him. you want to see just how much he’s enjoying himself, so you peek up at him. what a sight that is. his faced twisted up as he focuses on kissing you, strands of hair stuck to his forehead from your playing with it. he’s so beautiful, and deserves to know. before you can tell him, you see his phone light up from the corner of your eye.

“tom,” you mumble his name. he’s too distracted by searching for your bra hook to hear. “tommy?” you’re louder this time, his mouth moving off of yours. “what is it, love?” tom exhales, hot breath hitting your face. “i think your mom texted back.” you offer a smile and run your thumb over his plumped lips. he only squints at you.

“about your time of birth,” you clarify. “for your birth chart.” “oh, that.” he kisses your thumb, nodding to himself. “forgot we were doing that.” tom tends to get a bit carried away with anything you related. making out can go on for hours and down many different paths, but it’s not the only thing. he’s a man in love, and the woman he shares that with gets all his attention at any given time. you’re so lucky to receive it.

you nod back and feel his racing heart as it beats against yours. “if you still want to, yeah.” “i definitely do. wanna hear you say more nice things about me,” tom jokes, a smug grin pulling at his lips. your eyes narrow. “who says they’ll be nice?” you challenge and earn a snicker from him.

“alright, missy. can you hand me my phone please?” he drops his head onto your chest, big brown eyes gazing up at you. “yes, sir.” you pat his cheek and grab his phone from next to you. tom’s contact name for nikki is set as ‘Ma x’, which brings a toothy smile to your face. “here you go.” you dangle his phone above his head. tom takes it from you promptly. “thanks.”

after leaving a couple of kisses on your clothed chest, he rolls to lay next to you. “let’s see, let’s see,” he murmurs, reading his mom’s messages. you scoot closer so you can look. “ooh, lots of crying emojis,” tom remarks. “i think you made her kinda nostalgic.” you pout at the screen. copying your face, he clicks on a picture nikki attached.

“she even pulled out the birth certificate.” he shows you his phone, and you zoom in to see when he was born. “big stuff here,” you say while you read. tom takes the time to get comfortable, resting his chin on your shoulder. “looks like you popped out in the middle of the night,” you conclude, giving him his phone back. he clicks his tongue at you.

“don’t say popped out.” feigning innocence, you glance over at him. “too late.” tom types out a reply thanking his mom before tossing his phone aside. “middle of the night makes sense, though.” he bites the inside of his cheek. “i’ve always been a party animal, haven’t i?” you turn onto your side and put a hand on his chest.

“it’s in your gemini nature. or really, your tom nature.” tom does an over exaggerated wink. “i like the sound of that.” he chuckles when you hit at his chest. “bring the laptop. let’s get this thing going.” you huff as you reach over him to grab it. you’ve switched positions so you’re laying horizontally on your stomach and over his legs, your laptop in front of you.

“if we find out there’s any scorpio in you...” you shutter. “hm? what’s wrong with scorpios?” tom wonders, watching you plug his birth time into the generator. “they’re literally insane, tom. like, serial killer insane. there’s statistics.” your eyes go wide as you hit enter. he leans his head back on his arms with a wince. “never mind, then.”

a small gasp leaves your lips, you squeezing tom’s knee. “it’s done.” “what does it say? share with the audience,” tom requests so you do your thing. you’re eager to get to it, turning the laptop to show him his birth chart. “ok, so.” you point at a box a few places down. “this is your rising sign, which is basically how other people see you.”

tom reads the chart, moving his own finger along the screen. “it says i’m a... taurus. what are those like?” “in one word? boring,” you summarize, tom only frowning. “kidding, kidding.” his frown fades into a small smile at that. “they’re known for being super nice and chill... also stubborn,” you tell him and prop your head in your hand.

“so, that makes no sense. those are complete opposites,” tom comments, slipping out from under you. he settles by your side. “i don’t get how i can be a gemini and a taurus, either.” “weird, right?” you sigh in content as his hand comes to stay on the small of your back. “very strange. do you think it could be wrong?”

“are you questioning the universe’s plan?” you tease, tom drumming his fingers on you. “yes, i am.” “see, you’re stubborn! taurus things.” you scroll down to his moon sign before he can protest. tom sticks out his tongue and tries to lick your cheek, which you stop by putting your hand in his face. “next is your moon sign,” you laugh out, ignoring his boyish behavior.

“that controls your emotions and private thoughts,” you elaborate and look presently surprised when you see what tom’s is. “yours is sagittarius. that’s a cool one.” “is it? how come?” tom sneaks a few kisses down the shell of your ear. “you guys are really open-minded and into things that challenge you.” he nods, signaling for you to go on. you turn onto your back so you’re looking up at him.

“you’re all about your freedom, though. it’s hard to hold you down for too long.” grinning, tom brings his face into your line of vision. “that must mean you’re a real force because i’m not going anywhere.” he nudges your nose with his, lips ghosting over yours. you return the smile and meet him halfway for your lips to connect. “anytime soon,” tom adds on in a whisper, kissing back easily.

this one doesn’t last long, but it doesn’t need to. it’s just one of those kisses that makes you feel each other’s love, no matter how you go about it. they’re essentially your own made up love language.

you’re still smiling when your lips detach, fingers combing through tom’s tussled locks. “now that we’ve done the big three...” you preface. “androids, aliens, and wizards?” tom jokes, you breathing out a laugh. you’d thought he had a soft spot for sam and bucky. your suspicions were correct.

“cute, but no. your sun sign, moon sign, and rising sign,” you explain to him. “sure, sure. what about them?” tom toys with the hem of your shirt while you think. a mischievous glint in your eyes, you suddenly sit up. “since you know yours, and i know mine, how about we test our compatibility?”

tom is well aware of what that means, and he isn’t so sure he’d like to do it. he’s someone who believes in cliches like soulmates and fate, so he’ll take your results seriously. after the lessons on astrology you gave him, especially.

his heart will always hold a special place for you and you only. nothing will change that. but, what if the universe says you can’t be together? where do you go from there?

“um,” tom presses his lips into an uncertain line. you’re already getting your laptop. “i mean, do we want to know? what if we’re not...” you come back over to him with both eyebrows furrowed. “compatible?” “yeah” he hesitates before answering, which tells you he’s nervous.

“it’s just for fun, tommy,” you assure him and press a quick kiss to his lips. “besides, if anyone could defy the odds, it would be us.” tom perks up a bit, sitting up next to you. “you think we’re that strong, huh?” “absolutely. do you?” you’re already sure what he’s going to say. he pulls you into his lap, kissing at your hair and letting it linger. “one hundred percent. i’ll do it.”

you put your laptop in your own lap with a grin. tom’s arms hold you by your middle. “ok, here we go,” you mutter, searching for a good compatibility calculator. it doesn’t take long to find one. “remember, this all a bunch of theories. our love goes beyond what a stupid website tells us, okay?” you remind him, his arms tightening around you.

“okay. i love you,” tom speaks into your hair. “you’re so good at saying exactly what i need to hear. how do you do it?” “i love you too, and that’s a secret i’ll never tell.” you take one of his hands and bring it to your lips. tom’s leg bounces while you plug your three signs and his into the calculator. before hitting the calculate option, you look at him over your shoulder.

“ready?” your finger hovers over the cursor. you know how much these things mean to him, so you want to be positive that he is. “can we do it together?” tom asks shyly, which is highly uncharacteristic of him. “sure, baby. on the count of three.” you wait for him to place his hand over yours. he grips it tight, then you start to count. “one... two... three.”

the two of you click calculate at the same time, your results taking a few seconds to load. “love, i’m so nervous. i can’t look.” tom dips his head down so yours is blocking his view. you lightheartedly roll your eyes. “it’s fine, tom. i’m sure we’ll-“ the screen changes to display your compatibility rating, you cutting yourself off. he slowly creeps out from behind you.

“oh, god. are they in? what’s it say?” tom grabs onto your waist, feeling vibrations from you giggling. you shake your head at the website. “it’s really good... almost a perfect match. told you we’re meant to be.” he joins in your laughter, an endless amount of kisses going down the side of your head. “now, it’s written in the stars. we’re untouchable!”

he’s flipping you over so he lays above you, lips colliding messily with yours for the millionth time today. you don’t mind, though. you could do this a million more. “a power couple,” you continue for him between another peck of his lips. “always have been,” tom corrects and shuts you up again with his mouth on yours.

your hand reaches up for him, but doesn’t make it as the passionate kiss he’s giving you takes your breath away. he locks your fingers together instead, whispering one last thing.

“always will be.”

[chokemeanakin]

Cruel Intentions - Anakin Skywalker x fem Reader (smut)

Masterlist

WC: 6.8k

Summary: It’s Life Day but Anakin is mad and he’s got a dirty fucking mouth

WARNINGS: 18+, some mean talk but it’s not really degrading, oral (m) receiving, p in v, holiday fun?

(a.n. plz, plz, pretty plz get Anakins voice in your head when you read this. watch a video of hayden stuttering his way through an interview or something, whatever, it just wont be the same unless you get his voice saying all this. anyway, continue. and merry christmas/happy holidays).

(Gif from @madeleineengland )

You had always loved Life Day, but this one in particular was going to be something special. Anakin scored time off from the war, and through the help of Padme, you got one of her lakeside Naboo houses all to yourselves for the holiday. 

You arrived before Anakin, as he was finishing up a meeting with the Jedi Council, and passed the time by making cookies. You were having a pretty good time at it too— your hair was up, music blasting, candles lit, and half a glass of wine was slowly disappearing as you danced around the kitchen. Then you heard the door jiggle and open, and a gust of cold air from around the corner signaled that Anakin was here. 

Right away, you could tell he was mad. He walked through the door with a scowl, face drawn in irritation, yanking his robe off and shaking the snow out of his hair. He threw his robe up on the hanger and nudged the door shut with his elbow. He didn’t even take his boots off as he came into the kitchen, still in full uniform.

You considered asking him what the mood was for, but in all honesty, you were afraid of his reaction. Usually he either deflects or gets mad back, and you really don’t want to fight. 

But he was silent as he prowled around the kitchen, taking in your activities, and you wanted to know what was bothering him on Life Day’s Eve of all days. If you could make it better, you’d try. So you softened your voice, and in your warmest, most innocent tone, you tried, “Hi, Anakin, I miss you! I’m making cookies if you want to stay here and help. Or just sit and watch. I don’t mind.”

You thought you’d start off simple. Get him to relax a bit, and then dig into what the issue was. He stood by the doorway, arms crossed, raising an eyebrow.

“You’re not mad that I’m late?” 

He thought you were mad? You were too tipsy to be mad. Honestly, you hadn’t even been keeping track of the time.

“Of course not! You had a council meeting, that’s important. I’m just glad to have you now,” you shot him your brightest grin. “Besides, we have all week to ourselves.”

At that, his shoulders loosened and he smiled a little back at you. It disappeared quickly, but his affections were replaced with two strong arms winding around your waist, one warm and one metal. He huffed lightly and rested his chin on your shoulder, watching you mix the icing in your bowl.

His demeanor was slightly better than you had previously perceived, so you decided to risk it.

“...Did something happen?”

“Just the same old,” he mumbled, nuzzling his face into your neck. It’s cold from the snowflakes still wetting his hair, and you shivered. “The council doesn’t trust me, they still won’t consider making me a master. Windu thinks I shouldn’t even be on the council.” 

You struggled to find words to this. You wanted to take his side, and tell him he deserved to have it all. At the same time, the council was full of old and wise members, and they knew what they’re doing. But you hated how much it was bothering Anakin, hated how under all that anger there was hurt, and a fear that he wasn’t good enough. The council was making him doubt himself, and it you wouldn’t have that.

“It’ll all come in due time, I’m sure of it,” you tell him. “Whether they like it or not, you’re on the council for a reason. You belong there, and I’m sure if you give it a littlest more time they’ll come around to seeing how you deserve the title of master. Besides,” you twist around in his arms enough to skim your lips across his jawbone, pressing a lingering kiss into his neck. “I can call you Master whenever you’d like.”  

This made Anakin freeze, and then begin to laugh. His low chuckles vibrated your body, and you couldn’t help but join in with him.

“I might have to take you up on that offer sometime.”

Your stomach clenched at the insinuation, heat pulsing through your veins. That was one of your goals for the night, admittedly— to be with Anakin. You had a little surprise for him as well, and you were just hoping he wouldn’t be too disgruntled or worked up to appreciate it. That being said... sometimes it was a good thing when he was frustrated.

Anakin sacrificed a hand to reach forward and dip into the bowl, scooping a dollop of blue icing out and placing it in his mouth. You heard him suck it off his finger, beating the dirty thoughts back with a stick. 

“Is it good?” You ask to distract yourself.

“Here, try.” 

You turn, expecting him to offer you a finger with some icing on it but instead he kisses you. Immediately your mouth is flooded with the sugary blue that stains his lips. You open your mouth, tongue tasting his, and he’s sweet. Your cheeks are burning bright as he kisses you, slow and deep and dirty, and it’s such a 360 from the lighthearted atmosphere you’ve created.

When you pulled back, you’re breathing hard, mouth tingling, licking your lips for the remnants of sweet icing. Anakin smiled down at you, eyes dark, and went back to resting his head on your neck, whispering in your ear in a low, rumbling voice. “Finish up. There’s other plans I want to get to.” 

•••

Anakin ended up having to leave again as you were icing the cookies to take one last impromptu call from Obi-Wan, just some last minute tying-loose-ends before his short break. He also took the chance to get out of his Jedi clothes, trading the leather armor and robes for more comfortable sleep clothes— which included loose fitting pants that hung low on his hips, and that damned sleep robe he wears without a shirt.

He came back into the kitchen just as you were finishing up, and you almost choked when you saw him.

“Aren’t you cold? It’s snowing pretty heavily out there and you’re not even wearing a shirt.” 

“I’ve got a fire going in the master bedroom, it should warm the place up soon,” he took some of your dirty dishes to the sink. “Why, do you not like it?”

“No, I—“ you stutter. It’s just the opposite. He’s beautiful beyond words. “I just didn’t want you to be cold.”

“I’m alright,” he smiled at you teasingly, reaching around you to grab the last of the dishes. 

Once they’re in the sink, he found you climbing up onto the counter, putting the spices away that were, of course, in the highest cabinet out of reach. You stretched up to reach it, unashamedly putting on a little show for Anakin as you exaggerate the curve of your backside. 

The action caused the holiday shorts you’re wearing to ride up, exposing the fleshy underside of your behind. You turned around to find him watching you, not even trying to hide it. He leaned back on the counter, arms crossed over his bare chest, eyes thoughtful as he took in the sight.

“Help me down?” You asked him, and he immediately pushes himself off the counter to fit his hands around your waist, lowering you safely to the ground. He held onto you a little too tight for it to be innocent, and you could feel him gravitating toward you, leaning in to start something you wouldn’t be able to stop. You pull away— you're not done with him, in fact your teasing has just begun.

Anakin huffed quietly to himself as you moved around him to start the warm water, soaking the dishes in it so the batter won’t stick overnight. You purposefully shot some water onto your shirt so that you had to gather a wad of paper towels in your hand and dab at your chest, pulling your shirt down so you could get at the wet spots. Anakin rolled his eyes as you grumbled about how clumsy you were, but you could see he was discreetly trying to look.

His resolve was already thin when he walked through the door. He hadn’t been able to have you in far too long, and he was planning on doing something about that tonight. He wasn’t sure what page you were on, though…. You seemed pretty content with baking cookies and then watching movies all night like you had mentioned in the days leading up, so your little teasing games were doing nothing to quell his curious anticipation.

You didn’t even have to try to get him all worked up. The spice cabinet, the wet shirt, those weren’t needed. It was like you didn’t even realize the effect you had on him— every little move you made around the kitchen, every little sigh or gasp or giggle, even the way you bent down to take the damn cookies out of the oven had him yearning for you. 

The last straw was when you needed a rag to clean the countertop, so you reached across his lap where he was sitting to grab it. You placed a not-so-innocent hand on his thigh to steady yourself, brushing against his chest as you did so. He was immediately enveloped in your smell, and the feel of your soft hair against his chest, your hand on his thigh— he needed to have you, now. 

“Y/n, forget the cookies,” he demanded.

“Oh?”

“Let’s go upstairs.”

•••

Your tongues clashed, teeth nipping, breaths gasping for air as you struggled to get closer to one another. All of Anakin’s anger and frustration was pouring out him in bruising kisses, fast and wet and greedy. You were combatting it with your own dirty, lustful responses. It was one of your favorite things to feel so needed by him, even if he was projecting his emotions from the day onto you. You were his outlet, the only thing that could help him, and you would gladly take these punishing kisses for as long as he needed.

The hand that wasn’t threaded through your hair exploded the rest of your body, fitting into each and every curve, squeezing at certain places and pulling you closer, adjusting you on his lap. He slipped his fingers beneath the neckline of your shirt, pulling it to the side so he could suck at the pulse in your neck, when he caught a flash of red.

His eyes darkened, lips twisting into a smirk as he traced the lacey garment. Suddenly his hands were gone, and he was leaning back away from you. “Show it to me.”

 So you stood before him and undressed, feeling small under his steady gaze. It was loaded with heat, and you could practically read his mind as each new strip of skin and the lacy red underwear you had worn specially for this occasion was revealed. He was planning everything he wanted to do to you, drinking you in, and storing away the sight into his memory for later times, when he’s on the battlefield and it’s been months and he misses you. But for now though, his present was waiting for him.

The look of him illuminated by the firelight, eyes scorching as he studied every inch of you had you squirming under his gaze. He leaned back in the loveseat, arrogant posture annoyingly sexy with the way his broad shoulders filled out the chair, long legs spreading before him. 

You needed to touch him. He wasn’t saying anything, or doing anything, so you approached him and settled yourself back on his lap, meaning to restart where you had left off. You trailed your hand down the smooth, hard planes of his body, feeling the ridges of his abs, the soft skin smooth and warm. He kept his arms slung lazily over the armrests, refraining from touching you, but you could feel the steady pulse of his eyes as he watched your every move. 

Those deep, calculating eyes. They made you nervous, but you’d be lying if you said the intimidation didn’t turn you on. 

He let you tangle one of your hands in his hair, feeling the soft curls glide between your fingers as you looked over him. But just as your palm slid near the band of his pants, he caught your wrist in his metal hand and stopped you.

“Get on the bed,” he flicked his eyes behind you, a cocky, mischievous glint in them. He knew you’ll do anything he said, with that voice. 

Hesitantly, you stood from his lap and made your way over to the bed. Your skin was raised with goosebumps, as you knew he was studying your every move. You sat on the plush mattress of the bed, crossing your legs over the knee, and looked at him. He was blanketed in shadows, but stared right back. 

“Spread your legs.” 

Your face immediately heated up in flames. He had always been the one to do that to you, with his hands, and pressed right up close to you. Somehow, having him sit across from you on the armchair and watching you from a distance was even more intimate.

He was waiting, though, so you did as he said. You already felt exposed under his greedy gaze, mesmerized by his beauty and the way the flames flickered off the sharp line of his jaw, the peak of his cheekbone. This dark angel was toying with you, teasing you, and you just wanted him to come over here and touch you. But he remained in that seat, head cocked as he looked you up and down.

“Eyes on me,” he demanded softly, cruelly. You had downcast your eyes, afraid to look at him without losing your confidence. The low tone of his voice left no room for debate, so you did as he said. 

Your stomach churned, heart fluttering as he leveled his gaze at you. He was studying every inch of your lewd pose, smug with himself. He wasn’t even even near you, but he had all the control, and he knew it. 

“Now let me see that pretty pussy.” 

Your breathing stopped. His voice is quiet, yet commanding all the same, and you forgot how dirty his mouth could be. It shocked you more than anything, which is why you hesitated.

“What, are you getting shy on me? That’s not what it seemed like in the kitchen,” he mused. “You wanted me to see you. Now, let me see you.” 

The words rang out in the air, causing heat to build up in your core and leak out onto your underwear. Swallowing your slight embarrassment, you hooked your finger around the front of your panties and pulled them to the side, exposing yourself to him. 

Anakin’s gaze darkened, and he sat up. He rested his elbows on his knees, covering his mouth in his hands as he appreciated the view. You squirmed under his gaze, waiting for him to tell you what to do next as you felt cold air hit your glistening folds.

“Look at you,” he purred. “Already soaking wet, and I haven’t even touched you.” 

You shrank away from his eyes, not having anything to say to defend yourself. The fire crackled but you shivered, his shadow looming over you, and you just wanted his warmth pressed against you, his hands on you, pulling that pleasure from the depths of your body. He knew how to do it just right, and you’d never been able to make yourself feel as good as he does. And now he’s right here, but he’s holding himself away from you. Shifting your hips in desperation, you whined and pulled at your panties, rubbing some friction against your throbbing clit.

“Stop. Don’t touch yourself,” Anakin ordered. His eyes were still lidded, voice sharp. You let go of your panties and dropped your hands to the side, holding yourself up on your elbows. Your legs were still splayed open, the sight of your panties soaking through put on display before Anakin.

“Please, Anakin,” you shifted your hips again, hoping it would provide some relief but finding none. “I need you.”

Anakin tsked at this but stood to his full, domineering height. You craned your neck to watch him as he stood over you, capturing your chin between his metal fingers and forcing you to look him in the eye, the other fitting itself on the soft flesh of your thigh. You keened into the soft touch, nerves lighting off like fireworks. 

“You need me?” He taunted, blue eyes digging into yours. “Or does your greedy little cunt need me?” 

You gasped at his words. Never had he called you something degrading before, like greedy. You’re pretty sure you’ve never heard the word “cunt” leave his mouth before either, but it spilled from his lips like red wine, smooth and dark. Anakin had always been so soft with you, so loving, and his statement shocked you. 

“Hm?” He goaded. “Answer me, sweetheart.”

He shifted his hands up your thigh, sneaking over your pelvis and landing on your mound. He let his thumb graze over your clit, unmoving.

Sparks erupted behind your eyes, and you leaned into his touch. An invisible force held your hips to the bed, stopping you from chasing your own pleasure as he continued with his words.

“Do you want me to fuck you open slowly on my cock? You want me to fill your tight little pussy until you can’t take anymore?” 

The weight of his thumb on your clit was distracting. It throbbed under his touch with every measured, vulgar word, and his mouth twitched as he felt it. “I think I just got my answer.” 

At this, he got on his knees before you. He lowered his mouth to trace his lips against the inside of your thighs, and you squirmed between the tickling sensation and the need to have his mouth on you. He gripped your hips in his strong hold, hard, mumbling into the soft flesh of your inner thighs. “You can’t seem to sit still today....” he sucked a bruising kiss into your thigh, and when you roll your hips into the feeling, he looked at you sharply.

“Behave.”

You flinched at his tone. It was deep, threatening, and pulsing with irritation. Was he angry at you? Your eyes stung, shrinking away from his narrowed gaze again, wandering if you did something to make him unhappy with you.

He lowered his head back to your thighs, purposefully skipping over the part that was throbbing for him, dripping for him. You held your breath, desperately trying to hold yourself back from moving or even making a sound, too afraid that you would anger him further. But his thumb pressed a little harder into your clit, and you fell back against the mattress, whimpering frustratedly. 

To your relief, he didn’t get mad at you. Instead he hooked his finger around your underwear, similar to how you did earlier so he could gage your response to his actions. The low hum he let out was pleased. “Such a pretty little pussy... dripping wet... is that all for me?” 

He was still toying with you, still teasing, and at this point it was getting painful. You would do anything to have his fingers on you, mouth on you, anything in you. So you nodded, and you told him it was all for him, everything was for him. He licked a single line up your slit, the tip of his tongue just barely grazing you. The sensation sent fully body shivers across your skin, and you melted into the bed, ready to lose yourself in the pleasure. He covered you again with the now drenched material.

Did you say something wrong?

“Show me how much you want me then.” 

You were shaking as he released his hold on you, head fuzzy with arousal, cheeks flushed with confusion. What game was he playing?

You swallow your nerves and stand from the bed, feeling so small even as you stood over him. He was kneeling, looking up at you under dark lids, daring you to do something. He was giving you some control, so you decided you’d try to get your sweet Ani back, to soften the energy in the room so he could be happy and playful like he usually was.

He sized you up quizzically as you wrapped your arms around his neck, one hand curling into his hair like before. You tilted his head up so you could lean down and plant a gentle kiss to his forehead, hugging his face into your chest. 

Your body shook as he laughed, dark and mocking underneath you. You pulled back to look at him. “Anakin?”

“If you want me to fuck you, sweetheart, you’re going to have to try harder than that.” 

That’s it. 

You just wanted to get fucked, and he just wanted to tease you. If he wanted you to come to him, then fine. So be it. 

Anger bloomed from the pit of your stomach and you pushed at his chest to get him onto the bed. He did so, at his own leisurely pace, pissing you off further with the smug smirk still on his face. You kissed it off of him, biting his lip in punishment and yanking his hair a little too hard in your fist. He groaned like he liked it, so release him and trail you kisses downward, biting and marking up his body until you get to his pants. You pulled back the waistband and revealed him to you, taking him in your grasp. Any normal man would be frightened of an angry girl with his dick in her hands, so you looked up at him, trying to see if he had been humbled by your anger yet. He was staring back at you, unimpressed.

You waste no time taking him into your mouth, sucking hard, maybe a little too hard. He sighed and leaned back, enjoying it far too much. You tried to convey your annoyance with the punishing pace you set on his cock, sliding up and down with your  mouth and hand. You grasped onto his thigh for stability, feeling the remnants of your saliva drip onto it as you gave him the sloppiest, dirtiest blowjob you’ve ever done. Halfway through, when you realize you’ve gotten little to no reaction, you peer up and see that he’s on his datapad. 

You pumped him up and down in your fist, gathering your breath as you studied him. Does it not feel good? Are you not doing a good enough job? He’s hard, so you must be doing something right. But it was like he didn’t even notice what you were doing anymore, or if he did, he didn’t care. You paused with your hand on the base of his cock, squeezing.

��Why’d you stop?” Anakin didnt’t even look up from his datapad. 

“Am… am I doing good?”

“Of course you are,” Anakin finally shifted his eyes to you, bringing a hand down to wipe some saliva off your bottom lip with his thumb. “Now finish the job.”

With this, he removed his hand and his gaze, going back to the data pad. Fueled by anger again, and a determination to make him react, you took him into your mouth harder, faster, sloppier, wetter. He didn’t even twitch, didn’t even moan or bury his hands in your hair or tell you how good it felt like he normally does.

You wrapped your lips around his tip and sucked extra hard, tongue probing into the skin there and swirling in a circle, over and over. There. He gave an appreciative hum. You thought you’ve finally got him where you wanted when he says, 

“That the best you can do?”

You whined around him frustratedly, just wanting him to feel something, wanting him to feel good, wanting him to feel that way because of you. But he was bored, you could tell by the way he didn’t even spare you a second glance as you took him all the way into the back of your throat, holding him there for longer than you ever have. You were trying your best for him, and usually he’d be writhing and moaning beneath you, but now...

He laughed, pulling you off of him with both hands to halt your frenzied movements. 

“Anakin,” your eyes shone with confused tears. 

“Shhh, baby, none of that,” his voice was sweet again, and he stroked the skin of your cheek as he brought your face to his for a gentle kiss. “Come, sit on my lap.”

You were giving up on trying to figure him out. One minute he was so sweet, the next he was uncharacteristically callous. Your eyes burned in embarrassment, feeling like you’ve failed him as you crawled onto his lap. He positioned you on his thighs, keeping yours spread with his. An arm wrapped around your shoulders, locking you to his hard chest as the other snuck down your body, touching you over your panties.

“Is this what you wanted?” goosebumps erupted all over your body as you felt his lips ghost over your ear. “You wanted me to make you feel good?”

He rubbed gentle circles into your clit with his fingers, allowing you to shift your hips in time with it. For a moment, you forgot about your problems and lost yourself in the way he was rubbing you. You moaned as he played with your clit, more slick gushing out and further drenching your panties. 

“Even though you couldn’t make me feel good?”

Your breath caught in your throat, embarrassment bubbling up in your chest. You were ashamed, accepting this pleasure from him when you gave him nothing in return.

“I can try again,” you offered, hips halting. You didn’t want anything else from him until you could give it back, but he slipped his hands beneath your underwear and touched you directly, rubbing you at a fast pace. Your head fell back against his shoulders, legs opening wider on their own accord as your orgasm built up in time with his hand. You couldn’t help but accept the pleasure, forced to feel it as he held you in his iron grasp.

“Anakin.. Anakin please,” you begged. “Let me make you feel good, too.”

“Baby, you already tried,” he nippd at your ear, voice cruel. 

“I can try harder, Ani— please!” Your voice came out in a shout as your orgasm approached. Before you could finish, he stopped rubbing and kept his fingers on your clit, pressing down, feeling you throb beneath him. 

You could feel your slick dripping down your thighs. Your panties were uncomfortably wet, but your arms were trapped under his and you couldn’t reach down to remove them. He seemed to read your mind.

“Let’s get these off you now, hm? You’re soaking through them, I can feel it on my leg.” 

Of course, he ignores your pleas and shifted the focus to drag your panties down your leg. He was right— you’ve made a mess of his leg, but now that you’re sitting directly on him, it’s even worse. He parted your folds with his hand, middle finger dragging up and down your slit, collecting the glistening fluid. A little hint of satisfaction soothed your worries as you felt his cock twitch beneath you at the sight. 

“You always knew how to take my fingers so well,” he whispered in your ear, pushing his finger into you as he does so. You accepted him readily, walls fluttering around his finger as it relieved some of the ache. You wanted to come, but you couldn’t— not without feeling guilty, for neglecting his needs. How could you be so selfish and take all the pleasure for yourself?

“Anakin,” you whined again, trying to get his attention. You purposefully shifted your hips in a way that would rub against him, but only succeeded in pushing his finger deeper into you. “Anakin please, let me… speak… hmng… I can’t focus…”

“Speak,” he kissed your neck, pushing another finger into you despite your warnings. “I’m listening.”

“I want to make you feel good,” you moaned. His fingers stroked into you slow, deep, and perfect. You gushed around his digits, the sound of it absolutely sinful. He kissed the back of your neck as his thumb began to rub your clit again, gently because he knew how close you were to cumming. “Anakin, please.”

“I know, baby.”

No, he didn’t. He wasn’t getting it. Your hands dug into his thighs, wanting him to stop, wanting him to continue—

“I love you. Please, let me—“

“Enough.”

You gasped, bones turning to putty in his hands. He kept sliding his fingers into you, thumb grazing your clit, but you were so ashamed. He just yelled at you, he’s never done that before. And now you didn’t know how to act, how to feel. 

“Aw, baby, did I scare you?” He taunted, curling his fingers into you. “Did I hurt your feelings?”

The sting of his words brought tears to your eyes, but it was battled by your pleasured haze, vision spotting and feeling honing down to the push and pull of his fingers. There were too many emotions swirling inside you that you didn’t know what to say anymore. All you knew was that you were close to cumming again, you have been for a while, but you weren’t sure if you should accept it.

Your walls pulsed around him and he pulled his touch away, denying you of the orgasm as he spread the slick down your thigh. He reached for his dick, gliding it up and down your folds, covering it in your arousal. He was hot and wet and stiff against you, and you bore down, wanting him inside you. For once, he gave you what you wanted, and you both moaned as he began to sink into you.

The stretch was immediate, and you cried out as you took him inch by inch. He was so thick and the angle was so deep that he had to lift you up and bring you back down multiple times, opening you up gradually until he was fully buried inside you.

“Look at you, taking my cock so well,” he praised, kissing up your neck, along your cheek. He twisted a hand into your hair, tugging it back so he could suck at the sensitive skin of your neck. Your walls clenched around him at the pleasurable sensation, punching an unexpected moan from him.

“Fuck me,” he hissed, sounding like your Ani again for just a moment. 

Your chest swelled with pride. Finally, you were making him feel good. You clenched around him again, shifting your hips, searching for another reaction.

“Y/n, shit—“

“I know what your problem is,” you chanced, realizing you had the upper hand for now. “You’re still— fuck— you’re still mad about the Council.”

Anakin glared, thrusting into you harder. 

“That’s why you’re— hnng— that’s why you’re hate-fucking me.”

“I’m not hate-fucking you.”

“This certainly isn’t love-fucking.”

“Would you just shut up and take my cock already?”

He plunged into you hard and deep, stretching you open so good that you momentarily lost your train of thought. Did he just yell at you again?

“This isn’t— this isn’t fair,” you moaned, loving the feel of his length scraping against your walls . “You don’t get to boss me around like this.”

“Oh yeah?” He raised his eyebrows at you, fist tightening into your hair so that you couldn’t look away. “That’s not what it seemed like a few moments ago.”

“I just wanted to make you feel good,” you slammed down onto his cock, anger winning out against everything else. You had one goal in mind now— if you could make him cum before you, it would even out the playing field.

He caught on to what you were planning immediately, flipping you over so he was fully in control. He grasped your hips, lifting them off the bed so he could drill into you at an angle, hitting the spot that had you arching off the bed and calling his name in a moment of weakness. Your pleasure heightened as he rolled his pelvis against yours, your clit rubbing against him. 

“Fuck you,” you moaned, clawing at the bedsheets.

“Currently doing that,” he gasped.

Oh, he was so going to get it.

You reached up, grabbing at his shoulders to pull him down to your level. He was stronger than you and could have resisted, but he gave in, thinking you were about to cum and just needed him close. He wasn’t entirely wrong— with each roll of his hips, his length probed deep inside you, causing your vision to white out. You could barely keep track of your thoughts as you squirmed beneath him. He held you down, completely negating your ability to try and flip him over. 

What had you been thinking? You had just been trying to get the high ground, but now you were so close— so close— to cumming. Think of something gross. Wet socks? Burnt cookies? Jar-Jar? 

Nothing seemed to be working. Soon, you didn’t want it to work. You cried out with each thrust of his hips, eyes rolling back into your head from the pleasure. Your pussy drooled around his cock, slick making a mess of both of your thighs. The slide of him was so hot, so wet, so good— 

“Stop!” 

You couldn’t think of any other way. Anakin immediately stopped his thrusts, pulling back to study your face in a panic.

“What? What happened? Are you okay?”

You bit your lip hard, heart pounding and walls pulsing around his cock from your denied orgasm. You squeezed your eyes closed, waiting for the heat to dissipate from your stomach before you pushed yourself to a sitting position. 

He gave you room to do so, the worry still clear in his eyes. 

“I’m completely fine,” you kissed his cheek, laughing deviously. “I just wanted to be on top.”

Anakin frowned at you, but switched positions anyway. “That’s not funny. I thought I hurt you.” 

“So you do care.”

“Of course I care,” he grabbed the finger that you had been jabbing into his chest, kissing your palm before wrapping it around his neck. “The last thing I want to do is hurt you.”

“You yelled at me,” you lifted yourself off his lap slowly, relishing in the drag of his of cock inside you. You sunk down again, shivering at the sensation.

“I didn’t know you were that sensitive.” 

“Well… when it’s you…” you moaned suddenly, his dick pulsing into you at a delicious angle. “I just don’t like when you’re mad at me.”

“Then you should behave better next time,” he nipped the words into your collarbone, almost purring again.

“See, that’s not fair—“

“Do you need me to fuck some sense into you?” His gaze was firm, completely serious. Your knees weakened around his waist at the tone, wandering why you found that so damn attractive. He tilted his head at you when you didn’t answer. “Is that a yes?” 

“Anakin—“ your cries took you by surprise as he slid his hands down to your ass, clutching your flesh in each hand and spreading you open so he could fuck up into you, hard. Your nails dug into his shoulders, body bouncing as he bore into your aching hole. 

There was no way you were going to last now, not with the way he was making you feel. You had held your orgasm back for so long, and while it would have been nice to make Anakin cum before you, to give him a taste of his own medicine, you were completely at his mercy. 

“Cum for me, and then we’ll talk,” he appeased, voice dark. Why was that hot? Warmth blossomed in your stomach and you listened to his ragged breathing in your ear, body tingling, pussy tightening around him. He turned your face to him with a hand in your hair, holding you close as filthy words spilled from his mouth.

“Take my cock, baby. That’s it, fuck me, come on,” he chanted against your lips. Always so demanding. You couldn’t hold back your moans as he plunged into you over and over, right into that one spot, the heat in your belly expanding until it took over each of your senses. He fucked you at a rapid pace, hips slamming into yours, fingers bruising your ass. Your walls quivered around him, the ball in your stomach snapping. Suddenly, you were coming all over him, pussy throbbing as he massaged his dick into you in wave-like motions, working you through it. 

“Does that feel good?” He teased, lips tracing softly over your cheek, soothing hands rubbing your shaking thighs. He was being sweet again— another 360 change in demeanor. 

You responded with broken whimpers, muscles twitching as you rode out your high. When he finally stopped, you sucked in a deep breath, shivering from the aftershocks.

“Mmm, I fucked you good, didn’t I?” He planted soft kisses under your ear, down your neck, and over your shoulder. Now he was back to taunting you, his words cruel, but voice so sweet. “Your sweet little pussy just came all over my cock. So pretty. You wanted it so bad, didn’t you? Even though you don’t want to admit it?”

He was like a snake-charmer, hypnotizing you with every slow, filthy word. You knew what he was doing, but at the same time, you couldn’t stop your body’s reaction to it. Every syllable had you melting into his lap, his hands rubbing the flesh of your hips softly. 

“Are you blushing again?” He dragged his cock out of you, and you whimpered at the sensation of it against your overstimulated walls. “Don’t tell me you’re shy, now. Not after what we just did.” 

“I’m not shy—“ Force, you couldn’t focus when he looked at you like that, when he purred in your ear like that. 

“No?” He pushed back into you. “Then look at me when I’m speaking to you.”

You lifted your head to meet his gaze, eyelashes sticking together with moisture. His full lips pulled into a smirk, dewy skin glowing in the firelight. 

“Does this pretty little pussy want to cum on my cock again?” He pulled your hips flush against his, so deep, so thick inside of you. You mewled, blood heating up in your veins.

“Please,” you gave in, allowing him to massage his cock into your walls. 

“Please, what?”

You would get him back for this later. For now, the hot slide of his cock inside of you was too good, too overwhelming. 

“Please, make me cum,” you didn’t think your cheeks could get any redder, his eyes probing into yours as you said this. Never in a million years did he ever expect his shy little baby to say something so filthy. He immediately smirked, pressing a pleased kiss to your lips.

“Good girl.”

Your skin broke out into a hot sweat, hole pulsing around him as he began to rock back into you. His strokes were slower, deeper, pulling ecstasy from the depth of your bones. He kneaded your flesh between his fingers as he rolled his hips into you. You fell forward, moans being dragged out of your sore throat, watching his cock dissapear inside of you.

His thighs glistened with your juices, the sound of him sinking into your leaking hole humiliatingly sinful. He noticed you watching and brought a hand down, toying with your clit. He moaned into your ear as he did so, the drag of his cock becoming difficult as you squeezed around him. 

This time, your orgasm washed over you like a warm blanket, causing you to arch your body into his. You trembled as the waves of pleasure sapped you of energy, rocking your hips in time with Anakin as he spilled his warmth inside of you. The sounds of him cumming sparked a flame in your heart— you wished he had indulged you in his pleasure earlier. Now, all it left you with was a desire to hear him lose it over and over again, and you realized you had your plans all set for the rest of the night.

Anakin stroked his hand up and down your back, lips attaching to your neck as you came down from your highs. He positioned the two of you so that you were laying down, you on his chest, completely limp apart from the occasional post-orgasm shivers. He gave you time to recover before pulling out of you, kissing your quiet whimpers away as he tugged his length out of your aching hole. 

“I win,” he mumbled against your lips.

[obesericewrites]

Let's move on from the dead baby au. The baby's first first word is the RO (mama/papa/baba) + Dawn, how do they react?

Ooo, I’m finna save this ask when I’m done writing the dead baby au so you guys will have a lil bit of hope after all that pain I put y’all through. The au is here. After this ask we finna take a break from the dead baby au 💀

M: The baby would be in a small cradle contraption that M has made. When the baby starts babbling, they’ll move the baby into their arms and start making curious noises back.

“B…Baba!” The baby spluttered out and Ms entire body would freeze. They would both just be their for a moment before M would shout for you and cradle the baby closer to their chest.

When you come out, M would have the most adorable look on their face as they hold the baby towards you with such pride in almost shines off of them.

S: Would be already trying to get the baby to call them mama/papa I’m secret when your working. When it actually happens, S would be playing with the baby.

Toying with the baby’s feet and pretending to eat them, they pause for a second when the baby starts happily babbling at them.

“What’s up, baby?“ Then S whole world freezes when they baby manages to get out a, “Mama/Papa!”

S would start laughing so loudly it would sound like screaming as they scope up the baby and bolt to your shop. The entire month after that, S would puff up in pride whenever the baby even mumbles any nonsense.

B: They would be getting the baby dressed when it happens. “Come on, my love! Just put on your shoe and we are done! Look! Look how cute the shoe is, baby!”

The baby would be squealing nonsense at them before they say something that makes Bs jaw drop. “Mama/Papa!” The baby wailed in a sniffled voice. B would drop the shoe and immediately lift the baby up to their face.

B would praise the baby and give it soft kisses all over its full face. After that, B would be trying to get them to speak with more determination that you’ve ever seen.

Dawn: She would just be messing with the baby. She was laying on her back and lifting the baby up and down. “Look at you go! OooO your flying!” She would coo at the baby who giggled.

When the baby starts spluttering she sits up, afraid that the baby is going to vomit on her. “Daw - Daw!” The baby barks. Dawns whole world brightens as he screams for the two of you.

She would beam with pride whenever the baby said her name and refuse to answer by Dawn for a whole day.

[anon-e-miss]

A Touch of Sight - 3

When Jazz returned to the palace grounds he found Ironhide barking commands at the latest rookies to accept the Prime’s brand. Gruff and demanding, the Master of Arms drilled the rookies in their form. They had no weapons in their servos, and they would not until Ironhide was satisfied they would not kill themselves or someone else with their youthful folly. He was a demanding instructor, and almost universally beloved by those that trained or served under him. A warrior who had seen the rise and fall of the Golden Age of Empire, Ironhide had seen battle in near every corner of the planet, and he demanded nothing of the rookies or the soldiers or the watchmech that he did not first demand of himself.

Jazz waited for Ironhide to release the rookies for their cool down before he approached. Interrupting the Master of Arms while he was focused on his duties did not end well. If there was not a battle to fight, it was best to leave him to his work. An early life working the very sort of market he had just left, Jazz had the patience to wait out the Master of Arms, and more still. He had not sat on a mat like that Praxian, or worked a stall. Jazz’s work had been in an amongst the shoppers, and in dark alleys. Theft was punished by Empurata in Polihex, and Jazz’s quick servos had been honed under that ever present threat. By the time he had been a young mech, he had moved on from pick-pocketing and on to darker duties as he had come into the service of first Lord Straxus, and then the rebellion that had risen up in the Dead End against that despot. Fate had seen Jazz cross paths with the mech who had become Optimus Prime, and by that twist of fate he had come to Iacon and a greater rank and influence that he had ever imagined.

“Those scrapheaps ya sent me were quakin’ in their plating,” Ironhide declared as he watched the rookies jog loops around the training field, a cool down before they were off to their next round of training.

“Ya inspire that in scraplets,” Jazz replied.

“Nah, they were afraid of ya. The Lord Inquisitor. That title had them ‘bout to void their tanks. They confessed to everythin’, figurin’ ya’d know the truth already, ‘n they didn’t wanna get caught in a lie. Looks like they’ve been fleecin’ peddlers for a while. Mostly the Praxians. Easy to pray on the broken ‘n vulnerable. Sergeant Kup had the pleasure o’ removing their brands ‘n now they’ll do hard time in the energon mine as restitution for their crimes.”

“That was quick.”

“Like I said, they figured ya knew it all already so they saved themselves a nasty interrogation.”

“Ain’t the boogie mech but I suppose the rep can be useful.”

“Fraggin’ right. Don’t imagine ya were in the market lookin’ for corrupt watchmecha.”

“No. Just clearin’ my processor, actually. Just a fluke I overheard the peddler protest. Brave o’m to even speak. They coulda arrested ‘m ‘n no one ‘round woulda dared step in. A blind mech ain’t worth the risk to their own platin’.”

“So he’s actually blind? They sputter a bit ‘bound how could a blind mech tell the difference between brass ‘n silver.”

“Weight. Mech knows the weight o’ the coins. He’s blind alright, Hide. Got no optics. Looks like were burnt outta his helm.”

“That’s an ugly thought. Who’d of done that, I wonder?”

“Don’t know. I wondered if it coulda happened in the Fall, but he didn’t have another mark on’m.”

“‘Spose yer gonna poke ‘round a little now.”

“Maybe.”

Though Jazz was curious as to how the Praxian had come to have such a disfiguring injury, he was more intrigued by what use the peddler might have for him. There were many mechanisms like him in the markets throughout Iacon. Victims of the wars that had broken the hold of empires over the planet, victims of the greed of coldsparked master. They were broken in frame or in processor. Some were like that Praxian, peddlers of whatever goods they could make or find to sell. Others were beggars relying on the generosity of the shoppers and peddlers for their mega-cycle’s fuel. Largely they went ignored, treated like nothing more that scrap on the streets. In Polihex these mechanisms would have been called Empties. Some of Jazz’s most vital intelligence had come from Empties who had seen or heard something vital. He wondered how much that blind peddler had heard, and what sort of wisdom he could gleam from the disabled beggars and peddlers scraping a living in Iacon’s markets. It was worth considering.

It was a good enough excuse to visit the market again, not that he needed one. Jazz went where he pleased. While most who heard his title though Jazz was the Prime’s enforcer, his duties were quite different than meting out law and order. His duties lay in the defence of their realm from threats both without and beyond Iacon’s borders. He did not meet out his duties with blaster or fist, but with optics and audials. He had operatives in every level of society, and in every realm in Cybertron. Mirage sat in court, and listened for conspiracies amongst the upper echelon of Iacon’s society. Hound walked amongst the servants, and listened to the gossip both revolving around themselves and their masters. Bumblebee walked amonst the common mechanisms. There were others of course, dozens more. A dozen more would serve Jazz well.

He took the fluorite from his subspace and examined the crystal. It was a fine specimen, with layers of purple, blue and teal. Jazz could see no sign of contamination in the uncut crystal. Ratchet would be happy with the quality. While it was not a rare crystal, fluorite was a staple ingredient in the tincture the medic made to turn common energon in that vile concoction he called med-grade. All medics had their own recipe for med-grade, often several depending on the injury or illness. Because the tinctures were being given to mechanisms whose self-repair systems were already vulnerable, the purity of the each ingredient was important. A tiny speck of chlorine in a tincture, added to fuel laced with potassium could prove lethal. Though Jazz had not examined the peddlers entire stock, the crystals had all appeared in good shape and form. Jazz wondered where he had found them all.

“What have you done to yourself this time, Jazz?” Ratchet asked without looking up from his counter.

“Now Ratch, ‘m offended,” Jazz replied with a cackle. “I brought ya a present.”

“I doubt I want it,” the medic replied acidly, though he looked up. Jazz held out the crystal and Ratchet’s expression morphed from frown to contemplation. He took the crystal. “It’s a good looking piece of fluorite. Who’d you pickpocket it from? And how cheap do you think I am that you can bribe me with fluorite?”

“I bought it. Thank ya. Wanted to give the peddler coin, ‘n it was the only crystal I knew the use for.”

“No clinoclase?”

“Ain’t gonna find that on a peddler’s mat.”

“I’d hope not. It is a good piece of fluorite. Perhaps I’ll save it for the next time I have to boost your self-repairs when you inevitably try to get yourself killed.”

“Hush. I ain’t that bad.”

“You’re worse than Ironhide.”

“But ‘m better than Wheeljack.”

“True. Did this peddler have a good selection?”

“Sure. The scraplet tryin’ to scam’m was buyin’ ajoite.”

“If the idiot can’t pressurize he should see a medic, not buy crystals out of a market stall,” Ratchet scoffed. “I’m getting short on quite of few crystals. Our supply chain took a hit when Praxus was wiped off the planet.”

“Gimme a list and I’ll see what he’s got.”

“It’ll be a long one. So what sort of scam was the idiot trying?”

“Prowl, that’s what the peddler called himself, is blind. There’s no missin’ it, Ratch. He’s got no optics. Looks like he got burnt bad. Fragger was tryin’ to pass off brass as silver, ‘n Prowl called ‘m on it. ‘M ‘n his buddy, a coupla watchmechs. Didn’t expect to be called out by a blind peddler. I stepped in before they could try anythin’ else.”

“How did he know they were brass?”

“The weight. I gave’m gold for the fluorite ‘n he knew, ‘n he called me out on it too. Clever thing to learn, I think. Keeps his customers honest.”

“He didn’t have any helpers?”

“No, just’m while I was there.”

“Harvesting crystals can risky work for the sighted. Either he has a dealer or he’s very good with his servos.”

“I ‘spose I’ll find out.”

[impossible-rat-babies]

prompt: dancing

fallen hero / 2.5k / chargestep (nb!sidestep + m!ortega) / pre-hearbreak / cw: allusions to self harm  / mostly below the cut

It should not be this difficult, Pollux thinks, biting his lip. But of course it has to be this difficult, it’s part of being with Ortega. In his mother’s cluttered kitchen while the gritty 80’s radio plays some oldies station in the living room and the overhead fan tries it’s hardest to cut through the summer heat that’s strong enough to smell. The window above the sink is open, the small herb plants and valance billowing in the wind.

Pollux scrapes more flour into the dough with one hand because his other is decidedly needed for other things.

Like holding hands. (disgusting).

Ricardo is humming along with the radio and it’s almost infuriating with the lazy smile he’s sporting. Busying himself with the sink just as an excuse to be close. Washing dishes, he said. His mother is going to be coming in from the garden soon and needs the sink cleaned, he said. He’s just being a considerate son, he said. (Bullshit).

It’s just an excuse to invade his space--give someone a hand and they’ll take the whole arm the saying goes--leave Pollux’s skin tingling. He can’t focus, too preoccupied on the hyper-focused thought of Ortega’s hand. It keeps him faltering. Not once, not twice, not three times, but over and over again as he kneads the dough. The touch is a good one, he keeps having to remind himself. It’s just a hand. It’s just Ortega’s hand--his thumb running over large knuckles and he forgets to breathe for a moment. Calls himself stupid for it and straightens up. And that’s all there is to this: just holding hands. No danger. 

Ortega’s emitters cool against his sweaty palms and the funny little rubber conductors where his fingerprints should be.

A few months after they first met, Pollux recalls falteringly asking if Ortega still had fingerprints underneath those little rubber conductors. Ortega had given him a curious look, an arch of the brow and a hesitant laugh. Like he was joking right? Most definitely joking, that was a good one, Step. It hadn’t been a joke and he still isn’t sure if he really has fingerprints under the little conductors.

He still teases him about asking, so Pollux figures he won’t know at this rate. Fucking jerk.

“You’ll get that song stuck in my head, asshole.” Pollux groans, looking over at the man and he gives him a smirk.

Ricardo turns back and sings instead, a smile on every note and he wiggles his shoulders. Pollux groans. The singing only gets louder over his groaning until the radio is drowned out and Pollux roughly elbows Ortega in the ribs.

“Shit—ow, Pollux...!”

“The radio doesn’t need any help, jackass.”

Pollux huffs at him, returning back to the dough in front of him with both hands this time. It’s easier kneading like this even though he feels the kicked puppy eyes of *first you elbow me and now you let go of my hand? How dare you!* boring into the side of his head.

“Don’t gimme that look.” Pollux glares without heat and Ortega wiggles his brows in a decidedly much worse expression than a kicked puppy. “Or that one--you’re disgusting.” He tacks on, seriously glaring and Ortega laughs.

“You like it--don’t lie to me ‘Lux.”

“I’m going to drown you in the sink, lover boy. Now scoot.”

Pollux dusts the flour off his hands on the apron Tia Elena decided he needed, and he picks up the ball of dough to dump into the greased bowl. He gives Ortega a light shove to the side and he clicks his tongue, moving around to Pollux’s other side.

“I thought you liked that song, ‘Lux. It’s California Dreaming.”

Pollux rolls his eyes, rinsing the flour off his hands.

“I do like it, just not when you decide to sing along like it’s karaoke.”

“You like karaoke though.”

“I don’t.” Pollux lies and Ortega knows it by the pointed way he stares and Pollux rolls his eyes. 

There’s a bit of flour clinging to his sleeves and Ortega lightly teased him ages ago about needing to roll up his sleeves. He received a withering glare in return at that--and every other time since Ortega bothers him about the sleeves. His forearms are only safe from the tattoos--but there’s still the scars. The fresh scabs, the newest bandaids and newer regrets. He can’t do that; not with Tia Elena just outside. (He can stand on his toes just barely to see her still out poking around the garden--the large sun hat bobbing between the tomato plants.)

Ricardo only gives him looks about it--the ones where he almost asks, mouth faltering and breath dying on the concerned questions before Pollux beats him to the chase with a sharp reminder to ‘keep his fucking mouth shut’ and he sharply rolls his sleeves back down.

He’s been forced to learn not to touch but Elena presses. And not physically.

Her mind is so loud.

So loud with concern, it bleeds out against his shields like a whispered yell and it crawls under his skin like warm water. She wants to help, she just wants to look out for him. She likes him so she worries. A trait her son shares and it grates. Has his teeth clenching to keep his boundaries and unclenching to remind himself he’s not in danger; she’s not dangerous to him. But, it still smothers him, chokes him under the weight like her dark brown eyes when she thinks he isn’t looking. Prying eyes all still feel the same and he’s still nothing but a deer in headlights.

Leaves his ears ringing and the palms of his hands itching. She’s got ideas about him, what she thinks this is all about--where he’s come and what he’s running from.

Pollux can’t tell her. Even about the small things. Even this one little shirt sleeve thing.

She’ll only worry worse--her fears will just get worse. She would want to take care of him and he can’t do that; Ricardo already does his fumbling bumbling best to care the only way he knows how. He can’t handle having more than one person be genuine about what he’s doing.

It’s hard enough for Pollux to look at, hard enough to do. Harder still to take care of himself--he only knows one way to do that.

Ortega’s still standing there, hand leaning against the counter with an appraising brow and Pollux grimaces.

“What?”

“You remember this song?” Ortega asks with a deceptively rotten smile he’s trying his damnedest to hide and Pollux listens.

Listens for all of two seconds before he groans loudly. The Beach Boys—I just had to be the fucking Beach Boys didn’t it?

“I hate you. So much.” 

Ortega disregards his vile tone, shimmying along with the music, creeping closer with a sly grin like a snake and he’s a mouse caught dead in that gaze.

“Ricardo…”

“Pollux, carino, come on…” 

It would be easy. Easy to duck out of Ortega’s reach and tell him that he isn’t doing this. Not this level of sheer embarrassment or even worse how close he already is—close enough Pollux can smell his cologne and the slight hint of sweat from being out in the garden earlier. There’s no uniform today—just a blush pink button up shirt that goes far too well with his tanned bronze skin. The top two buttons are even left undone, sleeves rolled up and a sparkling gold chain resting against his collarbone.

He’s aware—painfully aware in all the best and worst ways Ortega brashly invades his space. Steps into his bubble, looks--oh how he looks at him with those dark brown eyes far too intense for their own good--and dares to touch him. Dares for Pollux to touch him back at times, a slick grin like this is all just a teasing game. Like sticking a finger in an electric socket. The way his neck turns, how he’s looking at him like that, dark brown eyes too intense for their own good and oh Pollux wishes the earth could swallow him up but he’s trying his absolute damndest not to dissolve into an embarrassed puddle.

Ortega’s got no right to look at him with that look.

The hand that touches his waist wouldn’t have surprised him if he had already seen it and let it happen—fuck he let it happen and he lets it happen now as Ortega puts another hand on his waist and starts rocking him back and forth too.

“R-Really?” Pollux asks, voice cracking like it started to a few months ago and Ortega hums.

“Come on, Lux—this is classic 1988 Beach Boys. The good old days.”

“Weren’t you only six years old?”

Ortega hushes him, bobbing to the beat and he insists on dragging Pollux back and forth even as he grips the rim of the sink.

“If Margaritaville comes up next I am going to stab you.” Pollux threatens, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat, white knuckled and stiff in Ortega’s hold.

“Pollux...”

“I have no idea where your mother finds these damn radio stations--”

“Pollux.”

“They’re classics, but--”

“Lux, carino--hush..”

Ortega cups under his chin and leans his head back against his chest so he’ll look at him. Pollux almost curses at him--if nothing else but to stop his throat from choking up and he hates how Ortega can feel him swallow. He can see how red his cheeks and feet the heat off his face and there’s no excuse--

Fuck. Ortega deserves to be punched.

Ortega presses a kiss to his forehead and Pollux looks past his shoulder--doesn’t meet his searching eyes.

“There’s no need to get worked up--you’re alright.” He mumbles against his skin.

“Says you, jerk face.” He still huffs and Ortega sighs, rustling a stray curl that sticks to his dark red cheeks. It’s definitely not alright--not at all and he takes a deep breath to keep his heart from rushing like a rabbit in his chest. 

“Pollux…” His voice warmed with laughter, the chuckle felt in his chest.

“Oh fuck you.” He grumbles, pulling his face out of his grip to continue washing his hands despite the continued clinging. A press of another kiss to the crown of his head and the weight as Ortega leans against him, chin in his hair.

“At least she didn’t pick jazz.” Ortega says after a long moment into his hair and Pollux groans loudly, his cheeks flushing again. That was just last week, the memories still far too fresh and he’s dead set on embarrassing him to death, isn’t he? 

Fucker.

“Oh I really would have punched you. Stole your bike and left. Good luck getting home” Pollux bites back with a bit too much force. Ortega can’t see his face to know just how serious he’s being.

“Mierda, you wouldn’t steal my poor bike would you?” Ortega bemoans and Pollux snorts bitterly. “It’s the vintage one, Pollux. I don’t even think your feet could reach the pedals.”

Oh that’s it. That was a low blow and Pollux leans his head back, a grimy angry look scrunching his brow.

“I fucking hate you, Ricardo Ortega.”

“Hey, what are you two getting into?” Tia Elena pokes her head back in, the screen door slamming shut as it’s always done. Looking between the two of them with furrowed brow, her hands are full of tomatoes and peppers from the garden, apron gathered in a makeshift basket. Ortega quickly backs out of Pollux’s space and he takes several deep breaths to calm down. 

“Nothing, Mama--honest!”

“Oh you’re a lying sack of shit--” Pollux grabs the nearby dish towel, hitting Ortega with it.

“Language!” She quickly scolds and Pollux bites his lip to keep more words at bay.

“He hit me, Mama, and you’re worried about that?” Ortega protests and Pollux pantomimes hitting him again.

“Hush both of you.” She gives them both a withering look, the only one that mother’s are good at making and Pollux huffs, tossing the towel onto his shoulder. At least she got him off her back, the Beach Boys fading off into the background.

“Sorry.” He grumbles even if he’s not that sorry at all. “Your son is a lying sack of crap though.”

“You told me you like my singing though, ‘Lux.” Ortega gives him that hurt puppy look again and Pollux can feel Tia Elena’s affectionate exasperation on the edge of her mind--the deep familiarity of this back and forth; it tastes as far back as childhood and Pollux shakes his head. She tells her son to scoot and he slides back; he doesn’t go far, just on the other side of Pollux and now he’s stuck between the two of them.

“I like it when you’re not obnoxious about it. Or dramatic.” Pollux looks up at him briefly, brushing the flour off his hands.

“How else am I supposed to sing along? I’m just having fun, ‘Lux.”

“Well maybe you can have fun singing along with the radio in the living room--you know where the radio is.” Pollux shoots back and Tia Elena scoffs, setting the tomatoes in the sink to wash them.

“He is right, Mijo.” She gives her son a pointed look. “Now quit terrorizing Pollux and get me a pot of water.” She shoos him off and Ricardo dutifully turns away. Pollux turns back to wipe away what’s left of the flour off the counter, looking over at Elena just as she gives him a knowing look.

Pollux rolls his eyes, face scrunching up and she tsks, shaking her head with a smile. 

“Here: cut little x’s in the tops of these. Just through the skin.” She picks up a cutting board and a knife, setting them both down in front of Pollux. “They’ll need blanching.”

She doesn’t say anything, her mind just a quiet tickle in a corner of his mind--like earlier when the sunlight caught the back of his neck while they meandered through the garden--as she hums. Pollux sighs out another tired deep breath, picking up the knife.

“You know,” She leans in close to say, plucking the stems off the tomatoes before she washes the dirt from off, the sink rich with the smell of cut tomato stems. “Margaritaville is a good song.” She’s trying not to laugh and Pollux groans, heaving a grumpy sigh.

“You’re just as bad as your son.” Pollux mumbles back and Elena snorts.

“Better than the Beach Boys.” She amends and Pollux can’t help but smile and shake his head, setting the tomatoes off to the side. He pauses, giving a second to roll up part of his sleeves--enough so that they don’t get wet.

Elena looks, but she stays quiet. Even her mind is soft, busy with the tomatoes; there’s no need to ask, no reason to go prying; more than him being okay, she wants him to be safe. She wants the best for him. He doesn’t deserve it, not really. Not if they both knew the truth; but…maybe for now. If Elena doesn’t ask again and Ricardo doesnt sing again--he’ll let himself feel a bit of quiet. Some security--safety.

Ortega brings the pot back over and there’s no cutting back and forth as he fills it, or when Pollux puts the tomatoes in the water with a soft thank you from Elena. And his sleeves stay rolled up past his wrists.