#OP I am clutching my heart

[anannua]

💘💕💖🥺💓💝💟 no way… I’m so grateful!!! It’s them!!!! 🙏🏻😭✨💗❤️💝 aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa I love it I love it so much!!!! Thank you! I love seeing your artwork on my dash so it’s such an honor to also GET an artwork for my birthday! 🥺💓💗 I was struggling with an upset stomach all day long and coming home to see this lifted my spirits straight into the skies 💞🥰💕 thank youuuuu they’re perfect!!!!!

B-day gift for @anannua

I'm not particularly good with words but I do wanna say thank you for being there from time to time 💓 Although we both have different interests, you'd always send such kind supporting words to my art. And you're the first person to ever drew art for me when I was in recovery a while back (it was so thoughtful of you that I decided to saved and keep it in my phone lol). Frankly, I'm not the type to celebrate my or someone's else birthday, but for certain special occasion such as this, I wanna try to at least convey it through drawing and show that you're not alone and there will always be someone out there who cares for you 🫂

May you have wonderful happy b-day! 🎂🎁🥳

[maxlarens]

OP: i can’t complain but i will

pairing(s): oscar piastri x mercedes driver!reader; oscar piastri & driver!reader & lando norris; lando norris x oscar piastri

word count: 2.4k+

an: here’s a little bit of angst a little bit of fluff and me holding myself back from making osc x reader x lan a poly ship😭 disclaimer: this isn’t an accurate reflection of the events of the Hungary GP. i take creative liberties as usual! and sorry to lewis. it’s still a mercedes P3 i guess😭 also here are my thoughts on the race so nothing is misconstrued here. AND gif credit because it keeps disappearing!

I. I choked on such longing I couldn’t spit out

Oscar crosses the finish line in Hungary and it’s fine.

It’s fine.

Y’know, fine in the way where there’s this feeling in his chest. This thing gnawing at his insides. At his gut. And maybe it’s his helmet, maybe it’s the temperature, but there’s something on his cheeks. Heat. Something burning. Maybe.

His mind goes immediately to those clips he’d seen of Lando’s onboard in Miami. The shrill little giggles, the high-pitch of his teammates voice, the cheer of the crowd faintly in the background. Crackle hiss—

No one’s cheering for Oscar—

Tom is on the radio.

Oscar’s not stupid, not by a long shot. He can hear the strained quality of it, the forced cheerfulness.

Yeah. Oscar apologises before he can think twice about it. It just slips out of him. He thinks of you telling him— on a Tuesday night two weeks ago— that he needed to “stop saying sorry so fucking much, Oscar”. The way he’d been distracted by his name in your mouth. Oscar. Not Osc like he’s used to, or the occasional Oscie you’re prone to throw out. Oscar. Like you were serious.

Whatever. He says something to Tom that his publicist would be proud of. Waves at the grandstands. Tries not to think, not like this. I didn’t want it like this.

A sigh leeches out of him. Lando’s car is in his periphery and you’re trailing behind him as the three of you turn. The three of you on a podium… it’s a dream come true for him. But— yeah— not like this.

He’s in the car for too long. Helmet on his head, where no one can see his face. He’s okay, he thinks. He’s fine.

He thinks of being a little kid at Albert Park. Watching F1 in the living room late at night. Getting in a kart for the first time and feeling alive. And okay—

Yes, there’s a sour taste in his mouth. Words unsaid sitting on his tongue. But he’s starting to feel the smile tugging at his lips. The feeling is his chest starts to ease, just a little. Just a bit.

He’s looking up and there’s you and there’s Lando. You’re on opposite sides of the car, Lando’s reaching for him, for his hand. Clutching it tightly. Lando squeezes once, his helmet covered face bobs in a nod that says something… part of Oscar hopes it’s I’m sorry. Another part of him is mad that it may not be.

And you, well you have no idea the half hour he’s just had. But your hand is on his shoulder and then on the top of his helmet and you’re whacking it with a gusto he hadn’t expected. He thinks you might be crying. You keep reaching in through your visor to wipe at your eyes and it’s making Oscar feel sick. You’re crying and he’s sitting here feeling sorry for himself because the win wasn’t perfect.

Fuck.

So Oscar grins and he bears it.

He gets out of the car and he smooths it over until everything is okay again. Because that’s what he’s good at. Because that’s how he’s made it here. Oscar Piastri is a team player, sometimes more than he is anything else. And that’s okay, that’s fine for now, because one day, eventually, Oscar is going to be the reason they need to hire a team player. One day he’ll be the beating heart of some Formula One team and he won’t have to win a race because his teammate had to let him by—

That’s not Lando’s fault either. Lando is…

He’s Lando. Oscar gets it.

Oscar gets it more than anyone.

II. I am obsessive. I contain nothing but the replay

Lando is trying so fucking hard not to have a tantrum.

It’s this infuriating feedback loop where he thinks I had it and then something cuts in to say but Oscar deserved it and then it starts over again. It’s making Lando feel like shit, for losing, for being a bad friend, for jeopardising the relative peace of the team. He’s trying to temper the angry, selfish little spoiled brat voice in his head but it’s so fucking hard to keep that dog on a leash.

He’s trying to be okay.

He’s in the post-race room with you and he’s trying to be fine.

And okay, so he knocks the stupid second place cap to the ground in front of the camera that’s broadcasting you guys to the world. Always second. God. He’d tasted a win in Miami and it’s almost like he’s worse off for it. It’s a win or it’s nothing and it’s tearing him apart from the inside out. There’s a voice in his head that’s saying, you’re just a one trick pony, Lando. Do it again and you might be worth something.

It’s making him crazy.

He bites his tongue. Turns to look at you, lounging in the third place chair like it doesn’t matter, like you’re happy to just be on the podium.

You raise an eyebrow at him, face blank but he knows what it says anyway. Be happy for him. He would be happy for you.

Fuck, and he would—

He would. Selfless and kind above all, Oscar.

Lando frowns, his back to the lens.

Your gaze flicks from him, to the hat on the floor. Pick it up, it says. Pick it up and pretend.

Lando picks it up. He’s the one who gave Oscar the position back after all. He’s his own worst enemy right now. Not you, certainly not Oscar—

Speaking of Oscar.

He’s here. He’s holding the first place cap that Lando wants to be his, he’s putting it on his head and Lando’s okay. Lando’s fine. He’s watching the race replay and seeing Max turn into your car and he’s trying desperately to look at that, pay attention to that, and not Oscar.

Because it hurts.

Not in a good way, not the way Lando looks at him sometimes and feels some yawning sun in his chest.

Instead there’s something bitter and snarling.

Some chained, angry dog on a leash.

Lando turns, goes to sit in the chair he doesn’t want to sit in, and catches Oscar’s eye. He feels the snarling thing strain, it goes to bark, to bite. Then Oscar smiles. It’s not much— it doesn’t reach his eyes exactly. But it’s effort. It’s thank you. It’s I know what that meant.

It’s enough.

III. He forgives you, dogs are like that, so loyal

You know something is off the second that you get out of the car. This isn’t what Oscar’s maiden win is supposed to look like— or it almost is, but the picture is wrong.

It’s not ecstatic, it’s not crowds chanting his name, it’s not Oscar getting out of the car like a shot and jumping into the arms of his team.

Instead, you see grim faces plastered over with smiles, McLaren engineers huddled into groups and talking in hushed tones. Lando’s sulking, you can tell by the set of his shoulders, the way people hover around him, keeping their distance a bit. You blink— there’s something in your eyes, your nose tingling with some emotion—

Whatever. You push it aside, go to Oscar’s car before anything else, before even taking your helmet off. It's you and Lando on opposite sides and whatever the case, whatever happened out there that you're not aware of, Lando's here. Lando's sucking it up.

You find out bits and pieces over the next hour, from your race engineer, from the post-race interviews, from Lando's attitude in the cool down room. The tension between them is bleeding into everything and they orbit around each other all afternoon. They can't quite look at each other, they keep making eye contact for a split second and then letting it slide away. They keep smiling these strained things at each other. Lando keeps reaching out to touch Oscar, but always at arms length. Like an apology neither of them can quite commit to.

You know it's the team that are the issue and it's also this hurt that Lando can't quite get over, and an Oscar who is trying to just be happy but needs more time to get there.

It's making your heart ache.

You've dreamt of this, stupidly enough. Oscar on the top step of the podium, that bunny-tooth grin of his spreading and spreading. Champagne and confetti. You're there, of course you're there. Lando is too. So it's painful to have that dream actualised and to realise it's not perfect— because, well, nothing ever is.

And it's fucking unfortunate.

But it's them. So it's fine.

You're baffled by that sometimes. You still hold grudges against old teammates. There are things you'll never forgive them for, wounds that will never heal. But you come back from your frustratingly long debrief and find them doubled over outside their driver's room, giggling their heads off at something. It's not perfect, there's still something between them, something in the air.

But they're trying.

And Oscar is smiling wider than you've seen in a long while.

So for Oscar's sake you push it aside—

It's always a little different away from prying eyes, away from rolling cameras, in front of which you feel pressure to act like Oscar and Lando are first and foremost your rivals. When they're gone they can just be your friends. Your boys.

Naturally, you're thudding into Oscar before he really notices you're there. Too busy throwing his head back at something Lando had said. He's still in champagne wet fireproofs as you reach your arms around his shoulders, but so are you. He smells vaguely like a wet dog and lets out a soft oft noise as you charge into him.

"Hey, race winner," you say as he threads his arms around your waist.

You put your forehead on his collarbone, close your eyes as a laugh flutters out of him. You hear it rumble in his chest as he rocks the two of you gently from side to side. It's giggly, light and joyful like the one he does when he's tipsy. But he's not tipsy, just happy you think.

"Race winner," he mumbles, low, quiet, to himself more than anything, "Yeah."

"Yeah," you whisper back.

You're like that maybe for too long. Longer than people who are just friends should be. You can hear Lando moving around behind you, asphalt grinding under his feet. His gaze prickling the back of your neck. Eventually, you pull away. You slide your hands to grip Oscar's shoulders, fingertips pressing into warm skin, lean up and press a kiss to his cheek. Accidentally, your lips land too close to the corner of his mouth, brushing against stubble and sweat. You hear something soft escape his lips, barely audible as his brown eyes bore into yours. Pupils blown large, gaze drifting momentarily down to your lips.

"Good job today, Osc," you say, trying not to let your breath hitch.

You pull away a little before he does something in the heat of the moment— and right in front of Lando, of all people. He's high on adrenaline, that's all. That's all.

"Thank you," he smiles, all teeth.

You feel hot all the way down your neck, into your chest. Hm, premature menopause, you think, rather than the obvious— which is that it makes you mega nervous to be that close to Oscar Piastri.

Lando clears his throat.

In a jerky, surprised movement you step away from Oscar, while Oscar fumbles awkwardly for his phone in his pocket. He holds it up, says something stumbling about calling his family and then takes only maybe five steps away before you or Lando can say a thing.

You laugh, just a little.

Then do a pleased little spin to face Lando.

Who seems better, lighter. At least in comparison to how he was immediately post-race. Which you’re glad to see. Especially after catching bits of his team radio from a brief conversation with George. You’re not particularly happy about it, but it’s not really your place to be upset.

“Hey,” you smile warmly.

He smiles back, tighter than you’d hoped.

You move a bit closer into his personal space, watching him carefully. It’s okay you think. He’s more subdued than usual, but you can’t see the seething thing that was under his skin earlier. That would be fine of course, he’s entitled to that, but his sake you’re glad it’s gone.

“You okay?���, you ask.

Lando nods, eyes falling closed momentarily as he hums contemplatively, “‘M okay. Happy for him.”

You nod, stepping closer to pull him into a one armed hug that’s not quite as energetic as the one you’d given Oscar before.

“Yeah,” you say quietly, pressing the side of your face into his cheek, “Upset too?”

He hums again, sighs, “Yeah. ‘Course.”

“Yeah,” because you get it,

Maybe not in these exact circumstances. But you know what it’s like. To chase a win with everything you have, to fall short after it’s been in your grasp. You understand that. So does Oscar—

Speaking of.

Oscar’s back, footsteps crunching asphalt behind you.

“They’re asleep,” he explains, “I’ll talk to them later.”

You half let Lando go, moving to accommodate the race winner into your little circle. They’re a bit weird about it, shuffling into place awkwardly, you’re not surprised after a day like today, but you persevere— wrapping arms around both of them and pulling them simultaneously down into a haphazard hug that you’re in the middle of.

Lando’s face is in your neck somehow, mumbling something about you being overbearing while his hand clutches at your waist to keep himself upright. Oscar’s arm is tight around your shoulders and your face is squished up against his chest. You squeeze tightly— let them go when it’s been a minute too long—

You can feel yourself almost getting caught up in the tangle of limbs. The warmth of your friends. The emotion of it. You think there’s something stuck in your eye again, something wet in your tear ducts.

You sniff, try to ignore it, hope they don’t see.

Then, stupid observant Oscar, “Are you crying?”

You let out an offended noise and shake your head to deny it, but instead something that’s almost a sob, but not quite, slips out—

“No,” you declare, but it’s unconvincing—

and then you’re back in the hug. All sweat and sticky champagne residue, Lando’s too-strong cologne and Oscar who smells like burnt rubber. And it’s not perfect, because nothing ever is, but it’s enough for you.

this was really cathartic for me to be honest. just needed my little driver!reader to hug landoscar after that race. needed to get some big feelings out and then needed a sweet little fluff section to make me feel better.

ALSO DISCLAIMER: this was a work of FICTION it does not reflect the entirety of what i feel about the events of the hungary gp. i am simply playing with dolls! thank you and goodbye!

[kianaisspiraling]

*inhales*

WILD LIFE WILD LIFE WILDLIFEWILDLIFEWIL—

Okay okay so so far I've only watched Grian's pov but I'm gonna be binging soooo many others right after this.

First off- Skizz, Mumbo and Grian is just. Such an unexpected and silly group, I love them. Skizz, loyal to the bone. Grian, loyal but can switch sides if needed; won't betray you first. And Mumbo; the least loyal guy on the server, goes completely bonkers the moment he turns red

They also all just like. Carry themselves so seriously? But will very quickly devolve into being incredibly silly? So so silly. They will NOT last long, they're gonna fall apart faster than the Southlands for sure with the cheating allegations Mumbo is throwing at Grian, but it'll be hilarious :)

Grian: apologizing for knowing the wild cards beforehand

Me: smiles and adds it to the pile of Watcher Grian lore

Moving on from them:

*inhales again*

MISSING DOG FOUND-?!?

AND WE GOT TREEBARK BACK!!!!!! :D

The sheer happiness I felt when I saw Ren back oh my void, we missed you buddy. Martyn immediately pairing up with Ren whenever they are on the same server has my heart. They're theatre kids your honor. Can't wait to see Ren pull out his guitar <3

We also have TEAM CRINGE-FAIL-?! Lizzie, Scar, Jimmy all on the same team-? That's amazing. It would be hilarious if THIS is the season Tim wins. SURELY having such a high concentration of loser (affectionate) energy will circle around to make them clutch. Surely. It's their moment.

Smth smth, Lizzie and Scar were the only two people alone last season. Smth smth, Lizzie died first and Scar last. Smth smth, Scar reaches out an unconditional hand to Lizzie, offering her an ally because he knows what it's like to be without. Smth smth, Lizzie accepts because she knows waiting for allies leads to none. They're friends now :)

I also heard Scar brought the reputation points back?? If that's true then oml we're so close to getting a Third Life parody. So so close, especially with Scar falling off a cliff and dying while singing, claiming that everything that touches the light is his. It is SUCH a good season for us folks that never left the desert. Bonus points if Grian ends up with Scar after the Sub-One Club inevitably crumbles.

We've ALSO got the op, terrifying duo of Gem and Joel. They are going to be SO unhinged. They will be the chaos group this season, mark my words. They will inevitably fuck shit up and I am WAITING for it. Manifesting Gem or Joel win >:)

And over here we've got three of the divorce quartet (Scott, Pearl, and Cleo) allied with the local supportive dad (Impluse). Ladies, gentlemen, and everyone outside or in between, we once again have the girls, the gays, and ImpulseSV. Gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss, girldad <3

The three of them just reminiscing on Double Life while Impulse stays quiet, internally remembering his little life in the suburbs with Bdubs as they stirred the pot and watched drama unfold. He DOES NOT have anything to add to this conversation on messy divorce.

Also apparently Scott canonically believes that HE'S the reason Jimmy broke the canary curse and Scar won in secret life?? Because he stopped them from allying together last season or something?? That's just wonderful to me. I don't think he's entirely wrong either, they would've destroyed each other SO quickly

Now, getting on to BigB and whatever he's got going on. Something DEFINITELY happened to him in that hole last season, because he is getting increasingly cryptic. OF COURSE he would live in the Pale Garden with the Creaking. Where else would he go??

I absolutely love everyone making BigB a Creaking hybrid, but hear me out: BigB has ALSO been made a watcher by the fandom in previous seasons because of things like the Nosy Neighbors in Limited Life and his Whole Thing in Secret Life, right? You know what the Watchers are often compared to? Biblically accurate angels. You know what the Creaking has been compared to? Weeping Angels. BigB is a Weeping Angel.

(Maybe Weeping Angels are a type of Watcher. they're closely related to the Creaking; perhaps they made it?)

(I have not watched Doctor Who, though I'd like to. All I know is that Weeping Angels are VERY Watcher-core to me <3)

Finally we have a classic trio of Etho, Bdubs, and Tango. They're taming horses, they're non-stop bickering, they DO NOT share, it's every man for themselves. Tango is third wheeling Ethubs so much rn. They get on each other's nerves. They're besties, after all they keep putting themselves together no matter how much they bicker. Team BET ily <3

Love that Etho IMMEDIATELY tries to ally with the local Watcher for inside information, but Grian refuses to give it to him. It was worth a shot, buddy. I adore every second of screen time in which Grian and Etho interact. They are SUCH a good duo for me. One Stick Wither and Etho's Dishwasher, you will forever be famous <3

Anyhow, I think that covers everything I have to say for now, having watched one pov and scrolled Tumblr for a while. I cannot WAIT for this season, as there's a lot of stuff from previous seasons coming back, with Renchanting, the divorce quartet, Scar bringing back reputation points, and more. I can't wait to see this unfold :D

[lilozzzyo3569]

Ari Levinson x Nurse Reader

Summary: "Maybe I won't get hurt so much if you just go out with me." Warnings: MDNI, female reader is smaller then Ari (duh man is MASSIVE), I don't own this man (but I guess I wasn't meant to be happy), General fluff, Ari is persistent, slight suggestive fluff, Ari is love sick and this whole fic is based off of this one gif

You had started yet another shift at the ER, and had just finished your first (third) cup of coffee. When you got a page that you were needed in op 3. So of course you ran over to find him.

"Well well well if it isn't my favorite little ER RN" Ari was smiling waiting for you on the exam table. You chuckled as you closed the door behind you as you lean against the door with your clipboard held across your chest as Ari made no attempt to pretend he wasn't undressing you with his eyes as he always did. "Ya know we might need to a punch card or something with how often you come here." you respond walking over to check his vitals again. He simply puts his arm out and opens his mouth, as you get his blood pressure and his temperature. "Do you guys do that because that would make it a lot easier for me." You giggle as you sarcastically say "No Ari Emergency Rooms don't actually have punch cards, so what is it this time Ari, another pulled muscle, headache, paper cut oh or is it another strange tired feeling." He takes the opportunity to respond with a chuckle, "well you see I wouldn't have to come here so much if someone would just go out with me." Ari winked at you making you blush. "Ugh we have been over this Ari, I am not interested in dating" you shrug before turning around and looking at his chart. "Seriously Ari, a broken heart?"

Ari stands and looks down on you cornering you against the desk before giving you a sultry look, "I wouldn't have a broken heart if someone would just let me take her out for dinner some time, what do you say beautiful? You'd be saving me the cost of having to come here all the time to see my gorgeous little angel." Ari lifts your chin with his massive finger making you feel even tinier that he already made you feel. "What do you say baby?" Ari had the gall to wink at you making your cheeks heat up under his lust filled gaze. You bite your lip as you look up at him "Ugh fine, one dinner, and you stop stalking me at my hospital" you say smiling up at him. Ari claps his hands and gets excited saying "Done, me, you and that new ramen shop, say yes princess." Still biting our lip, you look up at him as the hand holding up your chin moves down your throat and down your sides, and down to crest of your breasts. His gaze moving from your eyes to your lips and down to your breasts before moving his hands down to holding your hips. You clutch onto your clipboard for dear lip as Ari's gaze roams back up to your eyes. "Ari-" His eyes roll back before groaning in the back of his throat, the sound grumbling up from somewhere deep in his chest. "I love the way my name sounds coming out of that pretty little mouth of yours, and I promise if you just give me a chance, I swear to make it worth your while" he says seductively against your lips making you gasp. "Now tell daddy yes." Too lost in his darken gaze, his manly scent, and the feeling of his large warm hands squeezing your hips all you can do is nod, making him grin down at you like the cat the caught the canary. "Good girl" he says against your lips before kissing your forehead and sauntering out of the room.

Okay so I have been a ghost lately and I am sorry but life was kicking my a$$, but I love Ari with all my heart and wanted to try my hand at writing some suggestive fluff. Thank you also for all of the love and support on my work so far, and I am open to suggestions

[vampiric-succulent]

OUAW EP 53:

Spoiler warning!!! I’m being so serious right now as this is a pretty lore heavy episode. This contains spoilers.

Also, I am losing my MIND.

When they are in the Beneath and giving their stories to the Oracle: will Torbek ever get that back???????? That’s so important, it’s the entire reason he’s here, I actually don’t think this story will go on if Torbek is unable to remember the inspiration for why he’s on this journey.

Plot-wise I am WORRIED.

Does this mean that the other is just gone??????

This is so consequential like there are so many consequences for these actions YOU GUYS

also Frost’s story was SO SAD to have lost like that was so cool

Other notes: Nikkie is ofc the biggest Coalecroux shipper I love it, also there’s so much good chaos

This episode is a great mix of chaos and LORE

THE WOOD ELF—-

I. Forgot about the Speech Bubble effect that Torbek has. Holy shiiiiiiit. Andy you genius.

Frost being a proud nudist and Gricko’s legs being fused together is hilarious

“I TRIP AND LAND IN FROSTY’S LAP”

THE DUKE????????? DUKE?????????

Good god this is crazy. They all forgot the the goddamn Torbek lore and now they have to catch up but they’re NOT catching up and it’s so ANNOYING

Wait how much do they still know/remember????? UGH THIS IS SO FRUSTRATING

Knowing Rich, Kremy is going to tell a really emotionally important story relating to Gideon and then Kremy’s gonna forget it. Goddamn.

Ouch. Gideon doesn’t remember his dad anymore. Yikes. Can the Feywild stop stealing memories??

A hesitation about taking this memory? What, the other ones weren’t enough to warrant hesitation?

“Get on it, fanfiction” WILD

Something coming to the Inn at the End of the Road? Or just a scene of comfort OH SHIT OH SHIT OH SHIT HOLY FUCK OH MY GOD

TWIG IS BABA YAGA????? AND THE INN AT THE END OF THE ROAD IS BABA YAGA’S HUT???????? AND THE CAULDRON IS RIGHT THERE????????????????

WOAH. WOAH. WOAH. BABA YAGA STILLS THE HAND

Also does the fact that it’s a PUMPKIN tart mean anything????? Is the connection im making to the guy they took this quest from (Madrick Roslov, I think his name was) a valid one to make??????????

Twig is an agent of, or maybe is herself, Baba Yaga. This was foreshadowed? or shown? when they visited Morgana (the version of Zybilna that is stuck in time) and she “fixed” the Twig doll and told the party that it was made by her Grandmother, who was revealed to be Baba Yaga. I didn’t pick up on that.

Nikkie is SO GOOD at storytelling oh my LORD

Damn, Gricko. Damn.

OPERA TIME!!!!!! That’s where Burly is!!

Ohhhh. Opening Night. Mother of Puppets.

ONE MORE TO GO NO GUYS COME ON!!!!! ONE MORE!!!!!!!!!!!!! Level 6 is death, you guys would only be at level 4!!!!

YEAH THERE WE GO MEET CUTE STORY TIME— oh. Oh no he’s. He’s gonna forget it isn’t he. Fuck. RICHIE STOP

“But yknow friends to lovers is also really good” 😏😏

Oh I thought this was gonna be Coalecroux, but wow this works too

REMI GAROU / BARON SAMEDI IS DESCRIBED MIGHTY SIMILAR TO MR GIDEON COAL

TWIN BRAIN COMING IN CLUTCH RN

That was perfect. Thank god that it’s not a Coalecroux thing he’s gonna forget.

They’re all so GOOD at STORYTELLING ffs I’m going to lose my MIND

THE RED AND WHITE WAR AND THE JABBERWOCK 😮🫵‼️‼️ OPE nvm I was wrong

PEGASUS???? THE BARN OWL??????? 13???????

HUH NO COME BACK WHAT DO YOU MEAN

Wait. Okay. So the Barn Owl is of the King of Hearts (if I remember right, that’s what he turned into after the party first met him). The unicorn became Pegasus became the barn owl. The lightning storm, which we now know was an illusion, was involved. Red and White are here again, and we know the Red and White War happened. This is probably larger Dungeons and Dragons lore that I don’t know. I am REELING.

Goddamnit I promised myself I would do things at the end of this episode!!!!! I can’t just go straight to the next one but oh god do I want to

[shootingstarpilot]

An Interlude on Melidaan

(Please check the tags for content warnings!)

Stitch is sitting with Helix when he gets the call.

Helix had woken up for just long enough to squint, recognize Stitch, mutter something about his head having been trampled by a herd of banthas, and pass out again- enough to reassure Stitch that the surgery had gone smoothly. He doesn't like it when any of them are out of commission, but it had been agreed that de-chipping the medics was a priority so they could facilitate removals of the rest of the 212th when they were underway again.

Helix had volunteered first, with an expression that forbade disagreement. Needle's in pre-op now, Stitch knows- he'd hugged him tight and had told him not to worry, and Stitch had nodded against his chest and had told him he was going to worry anyway because that's what you did for your brothers, and Needle's smile had gone all soft around the edges before he'd vanished down the hall.

Stitch has a very long list of things you do for your brothers, and the list grows longer by the day.

And right behind worrying for your brothers is going to them when they need you.

"Needle?"

He knocks once, twice, three times before a steady voice tells him to come in.

He does.

Needle is sitting on the edge of the gurney, pale-faced, hands clutching the blanket under him so tightly his knuckles are turning white. Another person- Stitch had seen her at Jess's side, but had missed her name- is standing a safe distance away, head tilted back, pinching the bridge of her nose.

Stitch blinks. "What happened?"

Needle laughs, hoarse and hurting. "Nothing yet," he mutters. "I- can't. Apparently."

He shifts. "Sorry about your nose, Rittan."

The surgeon- Rittan- is olive-skinned and square-jawed and has a knot of scar tissue sealing shut the socket where her left eye should be. She wrinkles her nose assessingly, drops her hand, and waves Needle's apology off as she settles into her chair.

Stitch likes her immediately.

"Don't be," she says easily. "I've had worse. I once called a total evac when Bretta tossed me an apple and I saw a grenade. We've all got our own twitches."

It takes Stitch a moment to make the connection.

To realize why he's here.

And then he looks again at Needle's pale face and thinks-

Oh.

Needle glances up.

"I- can't," he bursts out. "I thought I could, but I- can't. I can't have- I can't-"

He stops. His shoulders sag.

"I can't," he repeats helplessly. "I can't. I want it out. I can't."

"But you know-"

"Yeah."

"And that it could-"

"I know."

"Or even-"

"Stitch."

Stitch's mouth snaps shut. Needle winces.

"I... know," he says slowly. "I do. I want it out. I want it out. I want it out."

He stops. Presses his hands hard against his eyes.

"I was this close to lying to both of you," he says eventually. "Tell her I'd get it done on the ship. Tell you I'd gotten it done here. And just-"

He shrugs. Helpless. Hurting.

"It could wipe you away," Stitch says desperately, and regrets it immediately when Needle's whole body jerks.

"So maybe I'll just sit here until the end of fucking time, then," Needle snaps, "because I can't let it stay in my brain but I can't let anyone else's fingers in there either! Not-"

He stops.

Stitch's whole chest hurts.

Not again.

"Sorry," Needle says hoarsely. "Sorry. I- hell. Rittan suggested calling someone, but- you can go. I'll figure it out. You can-"

Stitch has stopped listening.

A slow plan is bubbling to life in the back of his mind.

"Needle," he interrupts, "you trust me, right?"

"I- what? Of course-"

"And you want it out?"

Needle curls inwards, hugging himself.

"I don't want it to happen again, Stitch," he whispers, and Stitch nods.

Needle trusts him. Needle wants it out.

He can't let it be taken out.

But he wants it out.

Okay.

"I am going to get you something to drink," he says decisively. "Because hydration is important. While I think. You'll stay here?"

He's met with a wan smile. "Cross my heart."

Stitch hesitates.

(But Needle does this all the time. And it's- nice.)

After a beat, he cups Needle's face in his hands, leans down, and carefully presses a kiss to his forehead.

Needle's eyes are very wide, when he looks down.

"Did I do that right?" Stitch asks, suddenly feeling unaccountably nervous.

Needle's smile looks more like Needle, this time. "Perfect."

Oh.

That's-

That's good.

Right.

The plan.

He returns with a cup of grape juice.

(Needle trusts him.)

He hands it to Needle.

(Needle trusts him.)

Needle drinks, without a second's hesitation.

(Needle trusts him.)

Stitch catches both him and the cup.

"Pretty strong grape juice," Rittan observes.

She's- watching him.

Stitch meets her gaze. "Propofol," he says quietly. "Grape juice so he won't associate it with water later. I'll be your second."

Another item on the list of things you do for your brothers:

The things they can't.

Stitch is largely silent, as Rittan narrates every step.

Watching.

He can feel his heartbeat in his throat.

At one point:

"There's a lot of scarring," Rittan observes. "More than I'd have expected."

"Yes," Stitch says, and does not elaborate.

Needle is moved to recovery.

Stitch settles down next to him.

He doesn't know how much time passes before Needle's breathing shifts into something shallower. Faster.

Stitch knows panic when he sees it, and pokes him. "Needle."

"Mmph."

"Needle," Stitch repeats, and pokes him again.

"...'ch?"

"Yes. What's my favorite terrasaur?"

A moment of stillness. He sees Needle's eyes flicker beneath his eyelids, hears his breathing hitch-

"Needle. Needle. What's my favorite terrasaur?"

Needle's hands flex, curling into the sheet-

"'s a trick question," he manages. "Y'got two."

"What're the two, then?"

"...Blue. 'N tall."

"See?" Stitch whispers, smiling when Needle's eyes crack open and focus on him. "Still you. Still my Needle."

Needle's brow furrows, puzzled. "You..."

Stitch sits on his hands to stop himself from tapping.

"Stitch...?"

"Propofol in the grape juice," he whispers. "You couldn't. So I did."

A beat. A slow nod.

"Are you angry?"

A slow smile spreads across Needle's face.

"Good medic," he sighs, closing his eyes again, and Stitch carefully leans forward and rests his head on Needle's chest.

Feeling him breathe.

"I learned from the best," he whispers, and Needle's free hand reaches upwards and settles in his hair.

It'll be his turn in a bit, he knows. But Rittan will come and find him.

He's got time.

Needle's asleep by the time Stitch senses someone at the door.

He shifts as much as he can without disturbing Needle and looks up, expecting Rittan-

"Hey," Helix says quietly. He's leaning against the doorframe, eyes bright. "Everything go okay?"

Stitch nods.

There's a lump in his throat.

Helix pushes himself up and makes his way over, his gaze flickering towards the monitors. He stops at Needle's side, brushes his hair back-

Then he leans down and drops a kiss on his forehead.

Quick and swift as anything.

He keeps one hand there when he turns to Stitch.

"Rittan asked me to call you," he says quietly. "You want company?"

Stitch shakes his head. "You have to stay here. With Needle. Okay?"

A faintly puzzled smile flickers across Helix's face as he settles into the other chair. "Okay, Stitch. Second bed in here's free, too- I'll make sure it stays that way for you."

"Thanks, Helix," Stitch says. He gathers himself, stands, makes his way towards the door-

Then he pauses. "Did Needle get that from you?"

Helix glances up. "Get what?"

"The forehead kisses. He's good at those."

Helix snorts a laugh. "Doubt it. I think he was kind before he got here."

Stitch nods.

He thinks so, too.

[shreddedleopard]

I am absolutely bursting at the seams to scream about Morimyu Op 3.

Wanna write a very structured, intelligent analysis post but I don’t even know where to begin. Just … all of it.

— incoherent rambling about Moriarty the Musical Op 3 in-coming so quick — scroll if you don’t wanna see!

The way William’s yearning is portrayed. And Sherlock’s frustration. All the little references to Sherlock being a puppet on William’s strings. The way William is so infuriating and yet heartbreaking in the same breath. I totally get what Shogo meant when he once said, ‘it would be nice if William could be honest.’

The songs.

Spinning Around the Rondo? That entire spectacle. The lyrics, but also the way William steers and manoeuvres Sherlock at his whim … and the fact that they’re dancing with one another. I just. The metaphors. It was everything I needed from them.

I also love how we see the theme of the scarlet thread connecting them — this idea that they’re both attached but William is the one literally ‘pulling the strings’ — again in the scene with the Jack the Ripper culprits murdered. William tugging on an invisible string as he leaves and Sherlock immediately turning up to investigate. Chills.

In This Lonely Room I think is my favourite song from all 5 Opuses. When I say my jaw hit the floor … the dialogue from Albert beforehand — “you seem quite taken with him” ????? Umm. Okay. So it’s not just us then 😂 WILLIAM. You have been perceived 👀

And Shogo’s perfect called-out expression. But the pain in his eyes like … he doesn’t want to be made to face reality. He was having fun with his own little delusions and fixation with Sherlock. He was living in happy denial. Why do you have to go and be all voice of reason and ruin it, Albert?? “It will only hurt you.” EXCUSE ME is this advice on dealing with an unhealthy crush from your older brother time? I DIED.

But anyway. The song. Oh god, the song. Shogo sang it so beautifully and emotionally it made my soul ache for William and he’s like … he’s got this little glimmer of hope in Sherlock and when he LIES ON THE SOFA and sings TO HIS HAND LIKE A LOVER and then CLUTCHES IT TO HIS HEART. I cannot. Breathe.

What were they thinking? HOW can anyone be normal about them after witnessing that?

All of the songs in the second half pretty much ended me, to be honest.

I’m not sure how many times two people need to sing about having each other in their hearts to get the message across. I heard it the first time. And the second. And the third. BOYS PLEASE I UNDERSTAND don’t make it hurt more.

And then … the Durham date? THE DURHAM DATE!?

Ryo’s acting here was so good. The range of emotions he goes through during his talks with William — from notice me senpai to omfg challenge accepted to oh god we just sang about changing the world together do we really have to return to the weighty matter of why I came here — the LOC — after that? To oh shit you really do want someone to stop you to actually the RELIEF because that means you are a good person underneath it all if it’s really you — and I hope it is because I want you to be as obsessed with me as I am with you.

WILLIAM’S SHERLOCK AFTER HE LEAVES? The way he smiles so full it’s visible even with the dimming lights.

And then the final song … the repetition and switching of ‘I hope’ and ‘I will.’

I now fully understand why Morimyu twitter cannot stop saying those phrases and I am fully with everyone because ever since watching Op 2 they have been echoing in my mind but NOW — now I feel them in my bones like a bloody mantra.

Yes, I am dramatic about this. What of it?

😂😭🥹🤦🏼‍♀️

(Not even gonna start on Op 4 because that also broke me in very specific ways but it still comes in hard second to Op 3 my love.)

[demonslayedher]

Things that ran through my head while watching this episode:

--Dear Ufotable, why couldn't you had included the second half of this episode in your theatrical release? The One (1) time the Kamaboko boys all combine for one attack deserves cinematic treatment. I. Love. This. Scene. So. Much. They went for it so hard, and so obviously that they even had to poke a little fun at themselves in the Taisho Secret. Speaking of, I wish they would had given us more Taisho Secrets (or Stylish Scruffy Democracy) in Yuukaku-hen as opposed to just rehashing emotions that spoke well enough for themselves, as happens here with Tanjiro. I find it kind of funny how quickly the "To Be Continued" curtain fell as if to be like, "ok, yes, Tanjiro, we get it, time's up."

--Speaking of Taisho Secrets, I'm glad Ufotable has had fun breaking form since switching to FujiTV (and what did we ever do to deserve Butt-Chin Nezuko??), but I kind of miss the consistency of the first season's Taisho Secrets and manga panel BGs and limited movements like they're silly puppets. It makes the breaks in pattern more fun, like Inosuke & Zenitsu gulping in the BG while hearing that they may be in trouble with Shinobu, or cramming all nine Pillars in one Taisho Secret together so they can only move their mouths while stuck in their basic profile poses. Now there is no pattern, so getting a dramatic "no Taisho Secret today, too much drama!" thing is… not dramatic. Good thing they fixed that with Nezuko later doing the complete opposite by breaking the tension with a real Taisho Secret.

--Speaking of set forms and framing, while the animation for Gurenge is great for how it shows overall themes of the series and characters in relation to Tanjiro, this OP really says "this is the Yuukaku arc and this is what you're getting." One of my favorite details (I have a lot of favorite details) is how Uzui looks so relaxed and flamboyantly at ease when he's dodging obi, but doesn't show dramatic effort until he's dealing with Gyutaro's attacks.

--I… don't have strong feelings about the filler of the picnic in front of the grave, I do have feelings about it. I guess I fall more on the side of disliking this filler for how inconsistent the relationship feels between Tengen and his wives, like all that restraint they practice before relaxing because it's so ingrained in them to be subservient to their husband, but then Makio turns right around and calls Tengen out for being unfair. We've also never seen any jealousy between the wives, and however light-hearted, the inorganic way it came about with the cherry blossoms seems to take a nuance that Hinatsuru is the favorite and stretch it to a larger proportion than in the manga. That all being said, Makio sticking a bunch of petals in her hair with that "flirt with me too!" face is adorable. Speaking of flashbacks, I do like how Hinatsuru is the one to propose that they retire and live as normal people once they defeat an Upper Moon, as there needs to be a deciding point for when they'll move on. And the part about no hard feelings if they aren't all together? I love how bittersweet that is, and it feels very in the spirit of Hinatsuru to do that; I don't think it's that she's Tengen's favorite, but that she's the heart of this family. Makio looks to Hinatsuru when she feels conflicted, Suma turns to Hinatsuru first to celebrate their victory. They fact that she almost died would had stung the whole family is a way that doesn't just make them feel the hurt and loss, but feel like a tether has come loose.

--Ok so, I love Suma for being a simple bimbo, but I hope Tengen never feels like he's parenting her. I hope that when she's all "I wanna be a dragonfly" and he's like "that's a nice flashy dream" what he's actually thinking is "this woman is crazy and I am crazy about her."

--So for the amount of time that Hinatsuru was in active danger in Gyutaro's clutches, I feel like I could had watched this on at least double speed to emulate the actual pace at which the action took place. Tanjiro & Uzui just do so dang much thinking in such a quick span of time. BUT!!! Tanjiro, our boy, he's so full of good ideas!! Take advantage of being weak and not as carefully watched as the Pillar! Mix both your Breaths to make the best of them both!! Tanjiro has gone through so many levels of thinking and development over the course of this night that he's probably going to pick up from the conclusions he reached once he later wakes up and writes some letters: "Dear Tomioka-san, It's too bad I'm better suited to Hinokami Kagura and can never get very good at Water Breathing, otherwise my sword might not had broken this time. I got a letter from Haganezuka-san…" (and poor Giyuu would be like, "…what is the (future) Water Pillar talking about?")

--You know who I've missed? UROKODAKI. Urokodaki, it's so nice to see you again. T^T Those flashbacks to Tanjiro's training days are so cute. I missed how often Tanjiro flashed back to training with Urokodaki!

--But you know what's also nice? The fact that Tanjiro's not the only one who has worked his butt off to get stronger in the last four months. Look at all these boys, they've come so far since getting together at Kyogai's house. We know that Zenitsu's been polishing and polishing his one move, but Inosuke's been working hard too, ever since losing Rengoku-san! That's so endearing, for it's the first time in Inosuke's life he's ever gone through a loss that gave him a drive like this.

--It is so, so, so much fun seeing Inosuke being the one who is frazzled and Zenitsu being the cool leader. This is the hero of Legend of Zenitsu!! I'll bet that's how all his lines are written! And then when Inosuke gets the inspiration to focus on charging through the small opening in the middle of the obi, that's so satisfying because it's like the moment when someone breaks out of writer's block, and it's not that he can stop at that he thinks there's an opening, no, he makes up his mind to believe that there is!!

--Tee hee hee, Inosuke playing rugby with Daki's head and jumping out of the way of obi is so much fun---oh---wait---until it's not.

--Well… Inosuke's a goner. Uzui's dead. Zenitsu pulled the self-sacrificing push. Tanjiro's falling and apologizing for all his failures. Here ends my rewatch.

--FOR NOW!!!! THE THEATRICAL RELEASE DEBUTS ON SETSUBUN, BABY!! OUT WITH IN THE DEMON, IN WITH THE LUCK!! FEBRUARY 3RD!!! I'm so stoked--------a-a-a-nd with my work schedule I won't be able to watch it that day. T_T

[seiwas]

hi sel! can I request 21 and 24 for the ask game? super curious because my other favorite part of your writing is seeing people go feral in the notes lol

iris!!! thank you for sending in 🥹

send me a number from this end of the year fanfic writer ask game!!

#21. most memorable comment/review

omg 🥺 YOUR favourite part of MY writing is seeing the notes??? 😭😭 i am gonna hug you PLS

i think i have been so extremely blessed with such generous readers 🥺 i reblog every memorable comment/review with the tag #shotorus.feedback if you would like to peruse!!! 🥹 but hmm... i'll put this under the cut bc for sure it's going to be long!!

#24. favorite some memorable fics you read this year

i answered this here! but 😼 this just gives me a reason to give ANOTHER set of fics hehehehe 😋 beware!!!! this'll be 15 total recs hehe

and!!! like i mentioned, i have a lot in my tbr so there are a lot i probs haven't gotten to yet + the fics i reblog are more or less ones i recommend anyway!!! 🥹 (will also put this under the cut)

for #21.

niku's and sera's reblogs on 'do you believe in love?' really tickle a spot in my heart!!

niku's because back then, col wasn't even a thing yet!! 'do you believe in love?' was just a silly little one-shot born from me thinking about whether gojo believes in love. in a way, this rlly inspired me to take the story further!! and so col was born 🥺 so really, col is all thanks to @stellamancer 🥺

sera's because sera's gojo is one of my absolute favourites and i've been reading her stuff since way way waaaay before i even started writing!! she's also one of my first moots, and is such an inspiration to me when it comes to writing 🥺 so seeing her comment on this lil fic of mine rlly made me feel so 🥹🥹🥹

midi's reblogs are always hilarious and she takes apart my fics like she's deboning a fish 😭😭 (this is how we became friends!!! i messaged her to thank her for her tags on my earlier works and it was even in her native language ashfbas so i google translated it to understand 😭)

ari's reblog on 'tell me about love (show me how)' had me sobbing last night omg 😭 i swear we're writing NOVELS for each other atp

+ a writer i really love and admire commented so many nice things on my megumi fic the other day, i'm still not over it (i won't link them here bc i don't wanna be exposed LOL)

but!! i am truly!! so thankful for each tag/comment i receive 🥺 i think it's so nice that people are not only taking the time to read, but also taking the time to write smth about how they feel or what they think 🥺

for #24.

hq!!

stoplights by hajimio (iwaizumi hajime x reader) [1k. established relationship.] i think about this fic all the time and remember so vividly how i felt the first time i read it.

no matter what by shibaraki (miya atsumu x reader) [1k. established relationship hurt/comfort.] teared up a little reading this 🥹 clutched my chest too.

a piece of you with me by heich0e (kageyama tobio x reader) [1k. established relationship.] this was the cutest thing and i love how op writes tobio.

jjk

dancing with your ghost by wanderwithme (nanami kento x reader) [9k. kind of exes to lovers.] the concept is so good and so creative. executed so beautifully and achingly.

cantor's paradox by hawnks (gojo satoru x reader) [3k. ambiguous relationship.] one of my favourite gojo fics ever; i reread this all the time.

dawn instinct by lorelune (gojo satoru x reader) [6k. ambiguous relationship.] so tender and raw. really beautiful 🥺

i could fall asleep or stare in your eyes (you’re right by my side) by seoafin (gojo satoru x reader) [2k. ambiguous relationship.] the dialogue hits heavy and there's so much in the unsaid (i am crying).

in between by threadbaresweater (fushiguro megumi x reader) [3k. friends with benefits.] so tender and raw (2). there's such an ache and i love how megumi was portrayed.

the king is but a man by petrichorium (gojo satoru x reader) [series. usurper!gojo] one of my favourite gojo series!

cruel summer by seravphs (gojo satoru x reader) [collection. friends to lovers.] explores dynamics with other characters so wonderfully and really does give off that 'last summer with friends' feeling

bnha

carve it into the soil, carve it into me by gardenofnoah (todoroki shouto x reader) [series. gardener!reader.] puts shouto under a microscope and i love that. so beautifully written.

couldn't utter my love when it counted by c4ssiopeias (bakugo katsuki x reader) [5k. exes to lovers.] so vulnerable and so raw. cried reading this.

it takes a strong hand, and a sound mind by gardenofnoah (bakugo katsuki x reader) [5k. friends to strangers to lovers.] the pacing is beautiful and the there's smth abt it that's just so tender 🥺

on my way (to you) by ofmermaids (bakugo katsuki x reader) [12k. strangers to lovers.] one of my favourite bakugo pieces; i think about it all the time and is such a creative concept executed perfectly too.

you feel like home (you're like a dream come true) by willowser (bakugo katsuki x reader) [3k. ambiguous relationship.] the dialogue is everything omg. i ached so much at this!!!

[darkpoisonouslove]

For the fic ask!

🤩a WIP snippet about or with dialogue from Valtor

😔published lines or a section of a fic that was super sad, angsty, or difficult to write?

🤩a WIP snippet about or with dialogue from Valtor

Well, I swore I'd never post this and now here I am. *sigh* This WiP has given me perpetual brainrot and I am weak.

Betrayal. It was all that was left in her world. One after another, her life had turned into a series of betrayals. Her crown had betrayed her with the promise of power it did not hold. Her husband had betrayed her for another woman. Her own dignity and self-control had betrayed her to a sight she’d confidently refused to dread.

“And to think the only thing I had to do to make my wife enjoy herself was sit her in a chair where she could watch me fuck the woman I love,” Valtor’s voice made it through all the raw sexual energy suffocating the room.

There was that word again. Love. That was what Valtor had told her. His commitment to her meant nothing all because the royal librarian had stolen his heart. Amongst other things. He might have given Samara a ring and a crown but he’d given his love to Griffin. Amongst other things.

“Excuse me?” Her nails dug in the expensive silk of her dress.

It was no matter. He’d buy her another one if she tore it to shreds. He’d buy her anything – fabrics and jewels finer than the librarian had ever seen in her life. Not that she needed clothes or trinkets when she had his lust and his heart.

Samara didn’t need replacements either. A tasteless affair would never leave visible traces on her appearance.

“Your thighs are squeezed together, your breath hitches just barely and your pupils are dilated enough for me to make it out all the way from the bed,” Valtor's words slapped her in the face harder than he was clutching at his toy. She couldn’t draw enough air to dispute his insanity even if her decorum allowed her. “You’re aroused. Tell her, Griffin,” his hand tugged on the purple hair to direct his mistress’ gaze to her.

Griffin moaned like her life depended on it. She barely looked at Samara, as usual. She kept her eyes to herself – not out of humility or decency. If that were the case, she’d stifle her voice too. The entire palace could hear her making obvious the disrespect she and Valtor held for Samara. One more reason for Samara to hate her and stagger when the feeling wasn’t there.

😔published lines or a section of a fic that was super sad, angsty, or difficult to write?

They're shorter so I'll give you two, both from Smolder:

"She hadn’t had the will to leave the prison she’d called home before Oritel’s warmth had overwhelmed that of her inner flames. She hadn’t had the power to protect Oritel from the dark magic twisting his own until it’d frozen in his veins and killed him. She hadn’t had the heart to leave Daphne’s side and incinerate his murderer lest her daughter figured out that her presence didn’t amount to much more than her absence did. Her mother had seized the opportunity to take over Daphne’s schedule and life when Marion hadn’t had the presence of mind to care for her own child. She didn’t even have the voice to speak up and reassert herself as the only parent Daphne had left."

This was hard to write both emotionally and from a technical aspect. I think you can tell why it was so heartbreaking to put it together but, honestly, wording this almost killed me. For one simple reason - I don't have a name yet picked out for Marion's mother and I didn't want to bother with it but that left me maneuvering with the words "mother" and "daughter". It's still a little messy for my liking but I think it's comprehensive, at least.

And the other snippet:

"The liquid inside the chalice was blue – the color of a flame burning too hot, ready to reduce her insides to cinders. The light coming from the cresset glimmered on the surface like a flickering sun blinding Marion. She couldn’t tell if her fingers would brush cold metal or colder magic but running away was not an option. She had to pass this test, had to come out on the other side despite feeling like a small speck of ash drowning into the sea of a potion held up against her."

Again, wrestling this into words was a struggle. Especially the last sentence. I don't know, I don't think I really had a very good idea of what I was trying to accomplish with this at first and that led to getting tangled into several different threads that I could follow with it. At the same time, I somehow had a very specific vision of it (the part with the liquid reflecting light mostly) and that added to the hardships because I had to mold my stray thoughts into a particular shape. I am more satisfied with how this one turned out, though!

[tonydaddingham]

✨ episode 3 - running commentary✨

- OKAY LETS FO

- "JIMS MUG" HHAHAHAH

- oooooh mrs sandwich love u already

- MURIEL MY BELOVED I LOVE U You ARE PERFECT KN EVERY CONCEIVABLE WAY

- as an expert™ on the matter Muriel's grasp on UK law has me creasing

- LOOK AT MINE FOR A WHILE HAHAHAH yesssssssss

- PLANTS PLANTS

- THEM CROSSED LEGGIESSSS✨✨ CROWLEY MY LOVE YOURE SO FRUITY

- the writing has completely escalated fuck YES this is what I'm TALKKNG ABOut

- crowley YOUR SIDEBURNS ARE SHORT AND GLASSES ARE GREY WHY IT'S ONLY BEEN A FEW DAYS

- "it's a bit of a hobby" DEAD 💀💀💀

- lmao aziraphale u need to calm down my boo chill tf out on that clutch Bentley is SENTIENT

- AHH DIARY DIARY DIARY

- they are so bitchy I love it hahahah my fruity boys taking the piss out of gabe I live for this

- ACCENT ACCENT ACCENT ACC-

- my god the writing has fucking amped tf UP I'm so HAPPY

- oh my god the girls are so cute???? Fuck me UP

- Crowley shut up now pls I'm beggin

- the music has really chilled out and I'm glad my emotions are not being slammed down my throat

- AZIRAPHALE Why ARE YOU ON HIS LEFT

- 'ineffable' 💀💀💀

- YELLOW BENTLEY LMAOOOOOOO SHES GORGEOUS IM WITH YOU AZIRAPHALE but iM DYING THEY ARE SO MARRIED FR FR

- ...Nessie???

- but seriously at 30mph Christ knows how long it took aziraphale to get to Scotland

- ok no seriously ep3 is Everything and I feel so much better

- LIBRARIAN DADDY CROWLEY IN A HENLEY FUCKING DAMNNNNNN 🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵

- FLY FLY FLY

- DALRYMPKE????????????? Also lmao forbidden soup

- aziraphale is such a bastard I love him so and Crowley is so OP i live for it

- oh aziraphale you really going through your morality adjustment era huh

- NOW KN YOUR GUMSHOE ERA HES BOY YOURE SO DUMB AND EXTRA

- oh no he's a REPORTER fuck hahahha

- OOOP YOU REMEMBER GABE MR LANDLORD HUH

- well i didn't have the freemasons on my bingo card

- Crowley you need to stop being so Real

- the journey aziraphale is going through is giving me Feelings but he needs to stop fucking up fr now you've gone and maimed someone you fool

- AZIRAPHALE STOP BRWAKING MY HEART NOWWWW you need to make a decision quicker my dude

- lmao she's efficient ill give her that

- POISON WHAt NOOOOO

- Crowley stop. Stop singing. Stop.

- uh

- UH

- what am I watching

- aziraphale pls explain how you fell in love with this idiot I'm sorry I need it explaining

- TOUCH TOUCH TOUCH KIND KIND KKND

- DAAAAAAAAAAAANCE??????

- oop statue lmao

- MOBILE PHONE AND KTS NOT CROWLEYS he just asks it god I wish AI worked like that

- THE BOOK ABUSE IM CALLKNG RHE POLICE CROWLEY OH ok suicide ref there ok

- crowley as a cherub????? I LOVE IT???? like he Knows how to fall in love what a baby

- yeah I'm sorry I'm not vibin with Maggie and nina

- crowley you are so dumb and I love you

- GABRIEL GABRIEL GABRIEL PURPLE EYED WANKER ALERT🚨🚨🚨

- AHHHH SHAX NO go away crowley throw garlic at her

- okay I'm still confused over the glasses and haircut

- no don't have a go at goob he's INNOCENT✨✨✨

- "if any harm comes to aziraphale" FUCKING JUST KILL ME WE KNKW YOU LOVE HIM BITCH STOP

I am so not ready for the 40s minisode I don't want ITTTTTTT

[meandmyechoes]

Kingohger ep18

緊張する!

i drank cola (zero dakedo) last night and couldn't sleep until 4. and then i woke up at 6

new junction for extreme-chan!!

ah Jeramie's voice getting more serious each narration

eh the first time we get magical girl transfromation sequence?

Racules sama!!

ah it has to be him who else can "miss the vital" for Gira

hmm everyone's op visual fits with what i expected of their screentime

eh? this shot for Gira? out of all the cool moments he should've had today?

i should've factored in Daigorg as a wildcard earlier 😅

Evil shall cease in face of the Righteous…

ahh it is Jeramie who rescued Gira

yes King chan this week too

Gira and Rita finally get to talk 😂

*clutches heart* the flashbck is from Gira's pov

Rita Racles beef get going

no sixth can escape the fate of comic relief

Gira and Kaguragi being each other's substitute sibling 😭

"We're going to get serious with Racles so I might never see you again. Just wanna tell you that first" 😭

LMAO virtual manual background

eh? eh?! the balls of Suzume?? 🙇

two parts past and i feel duped?? isn't today suppose to be the emotional wreck episode?

Galloping that one sec of himerita THANK YOU SAs

Eh 竟然喺呢個地方收第8集嘅伏筆？

iya shugoddom security is VERY worrying

almost zenkai brain moment there

ahh Gira doing the glasses adjust in suit

AHHHHH this part really is magical girl haha

oh my himerita stop being cute! (rita speaks first this time!)

new song!

sasuka man who overthrew his queen

hurts hurts… To think Gira's entire view on leadership/sense of justice is taught to him by Racles, what was once* Racles's dream + recall to ep1

nanka anticlimatic...

Racles's exit here... "Hero" coming back to an empty court is a powerful imagery but, 1) that makes him looks like a comic villain bad at his job 2) the emotional wave hasn't quite carried him/his defeat to that point?

The audicence should've sympathised with his actions/motive for the empty court imagery to mean something. Besides fan filter, just by the script of this ep, I don't think it has achieved that, let's hope i can process this better with subs

Gira's voice when he says "I am going to be the King of Shugoddom" is neither his theatric voic or usual voice, but deep like Racles huh

not to say this episode isn't interesting but definitely not the level all Tools were howling for a week? Speaking harshly, you could even say it's a bait and switch with the Toufu siblings instead of the Hustys? (someone said on twitter it'd be a Kagu episode too i think that's only yesterday? friday?)

um, yeah i'm glad they are a proper sentai next week but it feels like an afterthought? Else it's almost like it's NOT the time for this (but when is hoho). Shouldn't the Husty brothers' personal drama be wrapped up first? Before you guys go all sentai procedural about forming a team? Today and next week put together can't help feeling a little rushed toy ad.

Not that I'm asking for a remake of 17's scale but at least the tragic impact should be throughout instead of the flashback crumbs? I know there's my expectation involved but just in general direction i was expecting it to rise and this episode feels like a hard brake.

↓ Racles is totally gonna become comic relief darou

↓ himerita next week too thank you toei and takamina-san

[seiwas]

omg i think i maxed the tags on this

the way everything played out oh my god hes soooo affectionate. how he kisses you all the time everywhere and is just so familiar with you omg that's driving me crAZY

and his teeth sinking into the side of your neck/?? OMG i CANNAWT THATS INSANE. then JUST WHEN YOU NEEDED HIM MOST HE PULLS OUT SJHDFBAS TO SEE YOU !>>>!/!?!? KYLEEE ??!?!? gODDAMN ROMANTIC THATS WHATT HE IS

.... he tells you youre pretty..... god..... this paragraph HAD ME: You’re pretty sure he’s full of shit; you’re panting like you’ve run a marathon, you’re sweaty, your hair is dishevelled, and you’re still wearing the ugly sweatshirt you had put on earlier. Yet, even still, Gaz’s genuine little compliment has your heart flipping in your ribcage.

the intimacy of it all has me clutching MY CHEST ohmy gos and he. says he loves you.. oh my god.... why am i crying GODDAMN... and him at the end... oh god

when he cups your cheeks... im SAWBING... his little kisses oh my god... the comfort of everything jdfbgdjf how you both inch closer to eachotherhgfvsjdf :(( how he's rolled w even the most unreasonable attitude thrown his way :(( if anyone else would be as patient as you :(( oh my HEART

Gaz is the most beautiful man you’ve ever met, funny and sweet and always so caring. You love him, even if it kills you a little to admit it, and you don’t know how to respond to his admission that he’s been faithful to you during the long months you weren’t together. <- started crying here AGAIN. he's such a sweetheart GOD im ACHING

aNd WHEN YOU ASK HIM TO STAY :((( CMON NOW :((( UGH KYLE YOU BEAUTIFUL, STUPID HANDSOME MAN :((( AND HOW HE HOLDS YOU TIGHTLY TOOSDGASBJD GOOSSFHSD all the emotions in thisdfjbs and his shaky little exhale oh god

op thank you so much for writing this i am deeply WRECKED i love this so much and im so sorry for all the word vomit in the tags oh my god

ミ stay for something

🍓 pairing: kyle 'gaz' garrick x fem reader

🍓 tags: nsfw, ex-boyfriend!gaz, unprotected vaginal sex, lack of communication, jealousy, 'just the tip' trope, sex with feelings

masterlist

reblogs are always enormously appreciated!

You hate wasting a Friday night on a first date, but you had genuinely high hopes for this one. You had made such an effort, too; pretty sparkly eyeshadow, strawberry-flavoured lipgloss, a new little black dress.

You look good. You feel good. 

It’s just a shame that the guy is a bit of a moron. 

He talks about himself a lot over dinner. Like, so much. You sit and smile and pretend to listen, your gaze wandering, and wonder if he’s going to ask any questions about you. He does (eventually), but they’re short and perfunctory and he seems to just take your answers and use them as a springboard into his next topic of discussion.

It’s a little tedious, but hey. First dates usually are. You weather it, your polite smile turning a little stiff as you sip your wine. Truthfully, you have ulterior motives here.

You’re not proud of it, but you don’t think you can handle the dry spell you’re going through anymore. You crave touch, affection, some kind of connection. You’re okay with being single, but god you’re so hungry for intimacy that it’s led to you agreeing to a date with a guy that you honestly wouldn’t have normally been into just for the chance of getting some action.

Ben is a nice enough guy, and he’s certainly good looking; neatly groomed hair, straight white teeth, a nice physique. He’s in good shape, though you can’t help but subconsciously compare him to— 

No, you think sternly to yourself, Don’t do that.

When he leans into you at the end of the date and asks in a low, sultry voice if you want to continue the night with him, you agree a little breathlessly. God, it’s been a long time since you were touched.

Your place is closer, and you can’t help but feel a little illicit thrill as you lead Ben back. You never usually bring guys back to yours, especially not on the first date, but you’ll be the first to admit that you’re needy tonight. 

The weather is getting colder as winter creeps its icy fingers through the air, but you’re wrapped tight in your coat and kept nice and warm as Ben wraps an arm around your waist, kissing heatedly at your neck as you try to open your door.

You giggle, the wine from dinner making you all loose and happy and eager. You tilt your head to give him more of your throat, and he eagerly takes the opportunity to introduce teeth and tongue as he kisses the line of your neck. You fumble with the key, clumsy as your body heats up.

When you finally manage to turn the key and get the stupid door open, Ben grabs you by the hips and spins you around so that he can pull you into a proper kiss. The guy might have been a dull conversationalist, but you’re delighted to find that he’s a good kisser.

The two of you stumble through the door, your arms locked around his neck as he holds you by the waist. It’s a little embarrassing how eager you are for a guy that you really aren’t even all that into, but you guess that’s just where desperation has gotten you.

“Shit,” Ben hisses when you nip at his lip. “Fuck, you’re so hot. C’mere, take this off.”

He starts tugging at your coat, and you pull back just enough to shrug it off, letting it drop to the floor. He lets out a throaty sound of appreciation, before grabbing at your waist again and leaning in to trail another set of hot kisses along your neck and shoulder. 

You tilt your head back, thunking lightly against the wall, and your eyelids flutter at the nipping kisses along your sensitive skin. 

“Oh, god…” You breathe, blinking your eyes open again.

But then… you pause. For the first time, you notice that the lights in your entryway are on. Why are they on? You hadn’t turned them on when you came in, and you know that they weren’t on when you had left. 

Ben is still groping eagerly at your hips, one hand reaching around to squeeze at your ass, but now you’re distracted, on alert. Your eyes dart around, and fall on a pair of Adidas Superstars set neatly by the front door, and a big puffer coat that’s been hung up on the hook in the hall.

Oh no. No fucking way.

As if to confirm the path your thoughts had just taken, your eyes catch on a figure in the doorway to the living room, leaning casually against the doorframe. Just watching.

A scream catches in your throat, and you grab Ben by the shoulders in an attempt to stop him. He doesn’t seem to understand, because he just keeps squeezing at your ass, pulling your hips closer so that he can slot between your legs and grind against you.

The brief spark of arousal that shoots through you when he grinds his hard-on into the seam of your cunt through your underwear is significantly dampened by the awareness that someone is already in your home, watching you, and you already know who it is.

���Hey, baby,” Kyle fucking Garrick says, lifting a mug patterned with little cartoon cats to his mouth. “Had a nice night out?”

“Jesus Christ–” You hiss, shoving at Ben’s chest. This time, the push isn’t needed, because Ben has rocketed up straight at the sound of another man’s voice in your house calling you ‘baby’.

“What the–” Ben starts to say, his brow furrowing into a bewildered frown when he catches sight of Gaz standing in the doorway watching you.

“Kyle, what are you doing here?” You snap, mortified. You grab at the bottom of your short little dress, pulling roughly at it to try and make sure you’re not flashing anyone.

Gaz watches you, amusement shining in his dark eyes. He’s not even trying to hide the way his gaze is drawn to your legs, lingering where your dress has ridden up your thighs. He sips his tea, a poor attempt at concealing his smirk.

“Home from deployment earlier than expected, love.” He says, calm and casual as if he hasn’t just broken into your goddamn house to destroy any hope you had of getting railed that night. “No time to find accommodation. You don’t mind, eh?”

Ben’s head is swinging between the two of you, his expression blank as he tries to work out just what exactly is happening. He’s straightened up entirely, the presence of Gaz obviously putting him on edge. You can’t blame him for his confusion; Gaz is currently looking at you like he wants to fucking eat you alive, and you’re beginning to get hot and flustered under his stare.

“Are you–” Ben starts, his head still on a swivel as though he can’t decide who to address. “I’m sorry, who is this?”

Gaz doesn’t even bother to reply at once. He sips at his tea, and tilts his head as he lets his eyes wander over Ben lazily. It doesn’t seem like he’s all too impressed by what he sees, though he’s smirking as though he’s amused.

“Sergeant Kyle Garrick.” He says at last, with a nod.

You huff. You know what he’s doing – he never introduces himself by his rank unless he’s trying to make a point.

Ben goes stiff. He’s still pressed against you, and you can feel every ounce of tension down the line of your body. It seems like he’s just now clocking Gaz as a proper threat, and you take a breath as you realise that he’s about to split and leave you here.

And sure enough–

“I– Listen, I don’t know what’s.. what’s going on here, but I don’t want any trouble.” Ben says, finally pushing himself away from you. He’s holding his hands up by his shoulders as though he’s being held at gunpoint, and you roll your eyes impatiently at his dramatics.

“No trouble, mate.” Gaz says, his voice still cheerfully amiable. “Door’s behind you.”

“Gaz–” You hiss, incensed, but it’s pointless. 

Ben is already scrambling to open the door, heedless of the way you grasp onto his coat in protest. You sigh heavily as he tumbles out into the cold night, and the door slams shut behind him so loud it makes your head hurt.

You stand alone in your entryway, shivering a little in your tiny black dress and heels from the icy breeze that was let in from Ben’s escape. Your jaw is clenched tight, and you take a deep, deep breath as you turn to face your ex-boyfriend.

Gaz is still watching you, his deep brown eyes staring at you from beneath his long dark lashes. You try hard to ignore his expression, which is unmistakably hungry.

“You look good, baby.” He says, staring pointedly at the way your breasts are all pushed up in your tight dress. 

“Don’t call me that.” You grumble, teaching down to unbuckle your delicate heels. You cast them aside and kick them over so they’re laying beside Gaz’s runners.

Gaz just snickers, turning to follow after you when you march your way to the kitchen. Irritation is burning hot in your veins, your lips pursed as you struggle to bite your tongue. It’s so fucking typical that the exact night you try to have some cheap, meaningless sex with some stranger, Gaz has decided to land right into your home. It’s like he has a fucking radar for when you’re about to get laid.

“You could have gotten a hotel.” You snap over your shoulder as you make your way to the kettle. It’s already hot, but you flick the switch again anyway.

“Nah. They’re all booked out. Busy season, you know.”

God, he’s so full of shit. You both know he never even considered staying anywhere other than with you, just like the last few times.

Still, you persevere.

“You could have stayed with one of the guys.” You say, turning around and folding your arms over your chest.

Gaz glances down, and you realise that you’ve inadvertently pushed your breasts together and up. You hastily drop your arms again, and settle instead for planting your hands on your hips.

“Could have,” He admits, leaning against your kitchen table in a way that’s infuriatingly casual. “But they never offered.”

“Neither did I–!”

Gaz doesn’t even seem to hear you. He just steps towards you, reaching to grab an empty mug from the cupboard above your head. The movement brings him so close to you, close enough that your next inhale is scented with his fresh-sweet cologne, the one you always loved, and you find your eyelids fluttering as your muscles relax without your permission. He smells so familiar, so comforting. You hate it.

“Go get changed,” He murmurs, keeping his voice low like he knows the moment is delicate. “We’ll watch a movie.”

You’d love to get fired up, to shove him or curse at him, but it’s all you can do to find the strength to step away from him instead of melting into him. You’re pretty sure he deserves an ass-kicking for this stunt of this, but you decide to pick your battles. Or at least, to postpone them.

You waver another moment, debating over whether you should try to get the last say, but Gaz has already turned away to continue making the cup of tea that you had started. Recognising that the moment has passed, you huff a sigh and march out of the kitchen, making your way to your bedroom.

It takes quite a bit of wiggling to get out your dress – it might look good, but there’s an inordinate sense of relief when you finally tug it over your head and feel as though you can breathe unimpeded again. You unclip your bra and toss it aside, rolling your shoulders and sighing as your breasts are freed. 

Once you're dressed again in a worn-out massive t-shirt that drowns your body and some loose sweatpants, looking decidedly unsexy, you pad to your bathroom and start washing your makeup off. Now that you’re alone, that disappointment and frustration is settling in properly. Ben might have been boring, but if his kissing was anything to judge by, you might actually have had a perfectly enjoyable night with him.

Bare-faced and dressed for lounging in bed, you trudge back downstairs to your ex-boyfriend. It’s far from the way you wanted to end your night, but you’ve resigned yourself to your fate. You can hear the muffled sounds from the television as you make your way downstairs, and you redirect yourself towards your small sitting room.

Gaz is sat sprawled on the couch, his legs spread wide as he makes himself comfortable in your home. Something twists in your stomach at how comfy he looks, as though he belongs there. He looks around when you walk in, though your footsteps are quiet and muffled by your fluffy socks.

You look far from sexy right now in your ugly old loungewear and bare face, but Gaz brightens up at the sight of you.

“There she is.” He crows, though there’s something soft in his gaze that you can hardly face. “C’mon, love. Want to pick what we’re watching?”

You just look at him tiredly. He’s as handsome as ever; the prettiest boy you’ve ever seen. He must have come straight here once he’d gotten back from deployment because his eyes are dark and exhausted and stubble is a little more overgrown than usual. You hate that he’s able to come into your space like this so easily – like he’s never left.

“Gaz–” You start to say, but you’re cut off when he reaches for your hand.

He tugs you towards him, and you put a knee hastily up on the couch to prevent yourself from falling flat into his lap.

“Shhh, c’mon. Just sit with me.” He murmurs, looking up at you with those damn pretty eyes.

You waver, but then you turn your head to the side and catch sight of the second cup of tea sitting on the coffee table. Gaz has made it just how you like it, and in your favourite mug too. You crumble almost instantly. 

“Stick to your side of the couch.” You grumble, before dropping yourself down heavily onto the sofa next to him.

Gaz hums, and you can already tell that he has no intention of following that order. His arm is already sprawled over the back of the couch; it’s not touching you, but you have no doubt that he’ll try to before the end of the night.

He sticks on some stupid movie on Netflix. You don’t pay attention. It’s a rom-com, which is typical. He always pretends he chooses the sappy romantic films for your benefit, but you’re not fooled. You see the way he watches them with avid interest, the way his toes curl in his socks when the big love confession scene comes on screen. It’s always been something that you’re impossibly fond of.

The two of you are silent for a while, but it’s not uncomfortable. Part of you wishes that it was awkward – it would be easier, you think. But he makes it so simple, sitting with him like this as the cheesy film plays in the background. You’re still a little tipsy from the drinks you’d had at dinner, and you melt into the couch beside him a little quicker than you think you would have otherwise.

“You ruined my night, you know.” You say at last, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye.

To your surprise, he’s already looking at you. You glance away hastily again, not wanting to make eye contact.

“Nah,” He says, and you feel his arm dip down a little. He’s cupping your shoulders now, and you should probably move away, but you don’t. “If anything, I saved you from having a long, disappointing night with some tosser you agreed to pity-date. He didn’t exactly look like your type, darling.”

“He was a perfectly nice guy.” You bite out, crossing your arms defensively over your belly in your big t-shirt.

“Nice guys don’t end the first date by groping your ass and humping you up against your wall in your own house.” He says, and if you’re not mistaken you’d say he sounds a little bitter.

You cast a sideways glance at him. He’s sitting up, watching you closely and leaning just slightly towards you. He’s so intense about the way he’s looking at you, his arm dipping low so that he’s holding you properly.

“Stop it.” You say. It hardly even sounds like a proper protest. You’re so tired, still a little floaty from the wine you’d had at dinner, and desperately disappointed by the lack of sexual satisfaction you had been hoping for.

There’s a pause, and then Gaz gives a small shrug. He pulls his arm back to give you space, but he still has that stupid smirk on his face. You can’t even be angry about the cockiness of his expression when his eyes are that soft though.

“Sorry, sweetheart.” He murmurs. “I’m not being fair, am I?”

“No,” You say petulantly. “You’re not.”

He huffs a noise that’s almost a laugh, only he manages to stifle it so that it comes out as a cough instead. 

“Mm. I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to ruin your big date night, especially when you got done up so pretty for it,” He murmurs, his voice low and sweet as honey trickling down your spine. “Let me make up for it. Come on, get over here.”

You hesitate, but Gaz isn’t really giving you an option. He begins to shift, one of his strong muscled arms looping around your waist as he pulls you into him. It takes you a long moment to realise what it is that he’s trying to do. He lays back on the couch and pulls you with him, encouraging you to pull your legs up onto the sofa so that the two of you are laying on your sides, with Gaz spooned up against your back. 

It’s definitely a bad idea to cuddle with him on the couch like this. You’re trying to set boundaries, to make it clear that you’re just friends (if you can even call it that) after your breakup. And yet… you don’t offer any sort of protest at all.

“Relax,” Gaz sighs from behind you, and you feel his nose nuzzle against the back of your neck. “You love cuddling.”

You roll your eyes, turning your head slightly so he can see the unimpressed expression on your face. 

“This isn’t enough to make up for being such a dick.” You grumble. Despite your griping, you don’t actually make any attempt to get out of his arms.

He was right, after all. You do love cuddling. It was your favourite thing to do when you were together. 

But you’re not together anymore, and it’s hard to ignore the gnawing guilt that you’re letting this grow into something that should be avoided instead of nipping it in the bud. You and Gaz had broken up months ago, and it was a perfectly amicable split. You can’t even say that he was at fault for any of it; the strain of the long distance part of your relationship while he was on deployment just grew too much for you, the space his absence left filling with brambled loneliness that pricked incessantly at you. You had known what you were getting into with this relationship with him, and yet when it came down to it you got too greedy, wanting more of him than he was able to give. 

Tonight was a moment of weakness for you, and though your hopes for sex may have been thwarted, you can’t turn down the soft familiar intimacy of Gaz’s strong body cradling you close against him.

Maybe it’s the wine you had at dinner, but you find your muscles relaxing a little as one of Gaz’s arms loops around your waist, his big hand coming to rest across your belly.

“Mm. I’m being selfish, love.” He murmurs, and you fight a shiver as his warm breath ghosts over the delicate shell of your ear. “This is more for me than for you.”

You’re not altogether sure that’s true. It’s certainly doing an awful lot for you right now. Gaz is in just a t-shirt, the muscles of his biceps bunching up under his bare skin as he tries to subtly nudge you closer to him. 

You’ve missed being all wrapped up in the warm embrace of him; he cuddles with his whole body, the front of his thighs all pressed against the back of yours, his strong chest moulding to your back as his face nuzzles against the back of your neck. You always feel so safe when he holds you like this, like he’s blocking out the rest of the world for you. You can only guess he feels the same – he holds you that much tighter every time he gets back home from his missions.

You grumble quietly, but soon settle down. The repetitive stroking motion of his thumb over your hip is more soothing than it should be. You take deep breaths, trying to be subtle about it, because all you can smell is Gaz and his citrusy sweet aftershave and you just want to drown in it.

“You can’t keep doing this.” You mumble, though all the fight has gone out of you. “It’s not… helpful.”

There’s a moment of silence, and then Gaz shifts behind you. His arm tightens around your waist almost imperceptibly, as though he thinks you’re going to push him away. But you’re being selfish now too, comfortably wrapped up against his chest.

“We said we’d stay friends,” He says at last, and he’s so close that you can feel his lips move against the back of your neck as he speaks. “Nothin’ wrong with some platonic cuddling. You should see how close me an’ Soap have had to cuddle to conserve heat when we’re out on the field.”

You huff a small laugh, which is obviously what he had been hoping for. Platonic cuddling. This certainly doesn’t feel platonic, but you can’t bring yourself to push him away. You’ve been craving this kind of closeness for months now, so you just let yourself reluctantly enjoy it. It would have been so much easier if you were able to enjoy it with Ben, with someone who meant nothing to you and wouldn’t have brought with him such a complicated web of feelings and history, but there’s a real sense of comfort in the familiarity of Gaz’s presence.

The film Gaz had chosen to stick on is a stupid one. It’s half action, half love story, with a strong rugged hero and a too-beautiful love-interest whose main role seems to be throwing out quips for comedic relief. You’ve seen a hundred versions of this plot play out in other films, though Gaz is predictably glued to the screen. He’s always loved these stupid films.

You’re comfortable enough that you fall into a light doze, uninterested in the television as you relish the heat from Gaz’s chest. He’s like a fucking human radiator, so hot that you can feel a thin dew of sweat begin to break out along your spine. It chases away the chill of the night and makes you so sleepy.

You’re almost asleep when movement from behind you jolts you back to wakefulness. For a moment, you wonder if you’ve imagined it. Then Gaz moves again, and this time it’s unmistakable.

Gaz is hard, the thick ridge of him impossible to miss as he presses against your ass. You’re awake instantly, the slight tipsiness from dinner vanishing into thin air. You’re on high alert, eyes darting back to the television to see what the fuck has aroused him, but there’s nothing of note happening onscreen. It’s just a conversation between characters, exposition setting up the next stage of the plot.

“Gaz,” You say, and your voice comes out louder than you had intended. “Stop humping my ass.”

You’re half-expecting him to deny it, but he just huffs a quiet snort, his nose nuzzling against the back of your neck.

“Sorry, love.” He says, though he doesn’t sound sorry in the least. “Can’t help it. Missed you loads.”

You can feel his cock even through the layers of your clothing, and you swallow hard. God, you’ve missed it. You’ve missed him, though it doesn’t seem like the right time to admit it. How are you ever supposed to get over each other if he keeps coming to stay with you every time he gets back from wherever in God’s name he’s been, when he holds you so sweetly and talks to you like you’re still his girl?

His hips rock into you in a movement that’s almost imperceptible, except you’re waiting for it. His hands are gripping your waist, his fingers curling into the soft flesh there. He’s always enjoyed the way your body yields to him, so much softer than the hard planes of muscle that make up his own, and it’s no surprise that he goes straight back to holding onto his favourite parts of you even as he ruts against your ass.

“Jesus, Gaz–” You start to complain, but your voice is a little too breathy to be convincingly angry.

“Stop that,” He murmurs, his lips pressing against the side of your neck. “You never call me that.”

That is true – after the breakup, calling him Kyle just seemed too intimate. It’s a name that usually falls from your lips with care, in soft whispers made for dark rooms and quiet moments. His callsign offers distance, reminds you both that what you had is in the past. Or that it should be in the past, at least.

“Kyle,” You concede tiredly. “You dickhead.”

He just hums. He knows you well enough to know that you’re not really angry; you’re not even attempting to move away from him, though you know you should. The film is mostly forgotten in the background, though you’re vaguely aware that the two characters onscreen have now progressed to confessing their love before the big final battle. You just sigh; this little romantic film moment is only going to encourage Gaz even more.

Yet still, you don’t move.

The way he’s grinding his thick cock against the swell of your ass is making your blood run hot. The pressure every time his hips roll lightly against you and the way that he uses his grip on your hips to pull you back against him is making your brain all stupid and fuzzy. It’s the only reason you can think of to explain the way you shift, the way you allow your bum to brush back against him. It earns you a soft little grunt that’s mostly muffled by the way he’s mouthing at your throat.

Oh, it would be so easy to slip the sweatpants that separates the two of you down, to allow him to slide into you. A little woozily, you think it would feel like he was coming home.

But to actually have sex feels like too much of a commitment, too confusing a step to take when things between you two were already muddled and confused enough. You’re almost afraid to even turn around to glance over your shoulder at him, as though making eye contact might mean you’ll both wake up and stop.

Gaz’s cock has gotten even harder, filling out thickly as he slots against the clothed groove of your ass. He’s not even touching your pussy, and yet your knickers are slick and sticky. It’s embarrassing at your age to be laying on the couch, watching a movie and getting dry-humped like a fucking teenager, and yet your skin feels as though it’s been lit aflame.

Then rustling fabric breaks the silence, and Gaz shifts a little behind you in an odd motion as the insistent pressure on your ass is finally relieved. In its absence, you’re almost disappointed. 

You tilt your head, just barely turning it, just enough to see that he’s just pulled out his cock.

“Kyle–”

“Sorry, baby,” He says again, panting against the side of your neck and making you shiver. “– ‘m just too hard, getting uncomfortable. Ignore it.”

Ignore it? You think, a little hysterically. The gentle rocking of his erection into your ass was one thing, but how the fuck are you supposed to ignore the fact that your ex is all pressed up against you, still holding you by the waist with one hand as the other fists at his cock.

You glance behind you and down before you can help yourself, your self-control as lacking as ever. Fuck. You’ve missed the sight of that. He has the prettiest cock you’ve ever seen, even if right now it’s flushed dark and angry and painful looking. Your mouth waters. He was obviously telling the truth when he said it was getting sore, and you feel a reluctant swell of sympathy.

“Been thinking of you for months, baby.” He murmurs, placing a wet, messy kiss on your throat. “I can’t even fucking cum properly when you’re not around, it’s not the fucking same. God, even missed the way you smell–”

As if to punctuate that, he presses his nose in your hair and inhales deeply. You know you smell like the sweet perfume you had sprayed earlier, your favourite one. You know from experience that it’s also Gaz’s favourite one. You tell yourself it’s a coincidence.

“Why didn’t you fuck someone else then? Get it out of your system?” You say, and it comes out a little harsh, a little raw. It reveals more than you want to; you feel a little ill at the thought of Gaz with some faceless girl, holding her and making her laugh, her hands touching him like you do.

If Gaz picks up on the bite in your voice, he’s kind enough to ignore it. He just huffs a quick snort like the suggestion is ridiculous, his sloppy mouthing at your neck turning into a chaste affectionate kiss that feels totally at odds with the desperate motions of his hand pumping at his cock.

“Why would I do that when I had a girl waiting for me at home?” He asks, his voice so soft with you. “Never wanted anyone else.”

Your toes curl, guilt coiling in your stomach. You hate that you feel pleased that he’s waited for you, that he doesn’t want anyone else. You’re not being fair – it had been you who had broken it off, after all. He should be able to get with whoever he wants to. Conceivably, he is allowed to. Yet you can’t pretend that you wouldn’t have been sick to your stomach if he admitted that he had. 

God, you feel like such a hypocrite. Here you are, admittedly all too happy that Gaz has stayed faithful to a relationship that isn’t even intact anymore, and there he is, having just witnessed you come home with a stranger’s hands all over you.

“We’re not together anymore.” You whisper, when what you want to say is I’m sorry.

“I know.” Gaz replies, and it sounds like For now.

It’s not a surprise when the hand on your waist slips around to your belly, and then lower again as it slips beneath the waistband of your bottoms. You try and fail to suppress the wet gasp that’s pulled from your throat when his long fingers coast over the front of your knickers, finding your clothed clit with unerring accuracy.

“Oh, lace, baby?” He says, his breath catching in his eagerness before realisation seems to set in. “Oh. This was for your little date, eh?”

The guilt again, gnawing in your chest. You arch your back, simultaneously shying away and crowding your ass back up against him. It’s mortifying, being caught with your fancy underwear beneath your baggy unflattering sweatpants by your ex-boyfriend and having him know without a shadow of a doubt that you intended them to be seen by someone else.

“I was–” You start to say breathily, but Gaz doesn’t let you finish.

“It’s alright, sweetheart,” He murmurs, his lips ghosting along the shell of your ear. “I know, I know. But he didn’t deserve it, didn’t deserve you. Jesus, he didn’t even know what he fuckin’ had, ran like a coward–”

“Gaz–” You try again. You can’t help but feel as though you need to explain yourself, like the two of you should talk this through.

“You’re so soft, Jesus Christ.” He mutters, the side of his hand rubbing at the squishy flesh of your thighs as he strokes at your clit. “Were you always this soft?”

It sounds as though he’s trying to remember, desperate and wanting. You swallow thickly, closing your eyes as that familiar pleasure licks up your spine. He knows you so well, knows every part of you and exactly how to touch you, and you can hardly believe you ever entertained letting anyone else put their hands on you.

“I got a new body oil.” You breathe, distracted by his touch. “It’s– it’s vanilla scented.”

“Yeah,” He groans, and you shiver helplessly when you feel his tongue on your neck, licking a hot stripe up to your earlobe. “I can smell it.”

His index and middle fingers are so firm on either side of your clit, rolling circles around it without actually touching you properly. You sigh, back arching, but before you can actually enjoy it his hands are pulling away.

“Wait–” You gasp, your body crying out in protest as Gaz stops, pulling his hand back out of your pants.

Gaz just grunts, kisses your neck once more, then tugs your sweatpants down. You lift your hips up immediately, thoughtlessly, and then kick your sweats and knickers off impatiently. It’s a little embarrassing, especially when the cool air hits your slick, sticky thighs and you shiver.

“Oh god, fuck,” He groans, his plush lips dragging along the sensitive skin at the back of your neck. “You’ve ruined yourself, baby.”

It’s embarrassing to admit it, but it’s true. The dry spell you’ve experienced since the breakup has been little more than a mild inconvenience for the most part, but now it feels like your body is charged like a live wire. It feels like you’ve never been touched before, and you squirm backwards in an attempt to get any kind of friction again.

“Kyle–” You start to complain, but you don’t get to finish because then Gaz is slotting his cock in between your thighs.

He groans, taking a breath as he shuffles his hips closer. His pretty, glistening cock is wedged between the soft pudge of your thighs, the head of it nudging against the wet folds of your cunt every time he twitches.

“Let me put the tip in, baby.” He says, his voice gruff and wanting in your ear. “Literally just the tip, that’s it, huh? It’s not like actual fucking, right?”

In this moment, you think you’d agree to anything to get his dick into you. You had been all kinds of wound up even before you had come home to find Gaz waiting for you, but it’s like your body had some kind of Pavlovian response to Gaz’s touch because now you’re practically panting for him.

He’s right, after all. It’s not really fucking. It means that you can maintain the flimsy thin pretence that this means nothing.

“Okay.” You manage to say, though it comes out humiliatingly breathy. “Yeah, okay, the tip–”

Gaz’s cock is pressing into you before you can even finish your sentence, bullying into the wet grasping tightness of your cunt and making you gasp. 

You’ve gone long enough without getting laid that there’s a slight sting as he presses into you, but it’s overshadowed by the breathless relief. God, you’d forgotten how fucking good his dick felt inside you. He knows just how to use it too, and you wheeze slightly as he rocks an inch inside before pulling back again.

“Oh, fuck, baby.” Gaz moans throatily, the vibration of it rumbling right down your spine. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ, you’re so tight.”

“Mph,” You manage to make a muffled sort of sound against the couch cushion your face is pressed against, your mouth hanging softly open as you pant for breath.

True to his word, Gaz just presses the first inch or so inside. You almost hold your breath, waiting for the rest to slide inside and split you open, but he doesn’t. He just rocks back and forth, just missing hitting the spot inside that makes your nerves sing.

You wish, stupidly, fervently, that just this once Gaz would go back on his word. That he’d abandon his promise to just stick that first inch of his cock inside, that he’d slam home and stretch you wide and let his cock brush against the nerves just a little deeper inside you. But that’s not Gaz’s style; you know he’s not going to give you any more unless you beg for it.

Gaz rocks his hips in teeny tiny movements, just enough to have you squirming in frustration. You’re so wet that you know he could slide deeper with ease if he only just tilted his hips right, but he remains doggedly steadfast in pumping just the barest inch into you, groaning with the effort it’s taking to stop himself plunging fully inside.

“Oh god,” He breathes, sounding wrecked in your ear. “You feel even better than I remember.”

You don’t know how he can even say that when he’s barely even inside you, but no matter how much you wiggle and squirm, he just won’t slide any deeper.

“You’re such an asshole.” You slur out against the fabric of the couch, your cheek squished against the cushions. Your chin is a little wet – are you drooling?

Infuriatingly, Gaz doesn’t even argue.

“Mm.” He grunts, kissing the curve of your neck. “What’d I do this time?”

The fact that he has the gall to ask only irritates you further. You let out a quiet, grumbling noise, but his hand grips at your hip and stops you from writhing.

“Just… just put the rest of it in.” You say, craning your neck to try and look at him. 

Your eyes are wide and wet, pathetically teary. You’ve been craving intimacy like this for weeks now. Maybe longer, if you’re being honest with yourself. It’s the kind of pleasure you’ve only ever gotten from Gaz, and you wheeze as your body opens up under his touch. God, you don’t know how you thought anyone would ever be able to fuck you like Gaz does.

“Mm, you sure, baby?” He murmurs, nosing against the back of your skull. “Thought we were just cuddling.”

“Don’t be a dick.” You snap, your patience reaching the end of its tether.

He just laughs, a breathless sort of amused gasp, before snapping his hips forward in one sharp movement and seating his cock inside you. Though it’s what you had been demanding, the abruptness of it startles you and you yowl, your back arching.

“Sh, sh, shh, sorry, love.” Gaz pants, before sighing in wordless contentment as his broad chest curves around your back, his strong arm looping around your belly. “Oh, fuck. Missed this so much, you have no idea. I swear you were made for me, I couldn’t fit as well inside anyone else.”

“Just– just move.” You whine, a little plaintive. It’s humiliating how desperate you are, but there’s no turning back now. “Please, Kyle–”

Gaz pitches into movement instantly, as though he’s got something to prove. Or maybe he’s just worried that you’re going to change your mind. His hips pull back then snap forward again, and again. 

He’s so strong, his rhythm steady enough to rock you wildly back and forth on the lumpy couch cushions. You clutch at the fabric beneath you, gasping as his arm pulls you back and keeps you pinned against his hot, hard chest. 

“Oh.” You breathe, tilting your head back with a pathetic little whimper as he fucks into you from behind, the two of you plastered together like sardines in the tiny can that is your sitting room couch.

This is just what you needed, you think a little wildly. God, you’ve been craving physical touch like this for months, since the last time you had seen Gaz. It’s galling to admit that any other man is a poor substitute, unable to fill the void that your ex-boyfriend has left in your life.

“Kyle,” You whine, searching for something. You don’t even know what you’re asking for, but Gaz is as patient with you as ever.

He just hums, leaning in over your shoulder and pressing hot, hungry kisses along your jawline where it’s exposed as you lean your head back. The arm that’s been wrapped around your belly coasts lower, until his big lovely hand is pressed against your cunt. His fingers search for your clit and find it easily, confident and familiar enough with your body that he barely even has to try to make you feel good. 

Gaz coos soothingly at you and rolls your clit between his fingers as his thrusts begin to come faster and harder; he builds up a steady rhythm, one that lets him sink as deep inside of you as possible and quickly renders you speechless. The living room is soon filled with wet slapping sounds from where Gaz is pounding into you from behind, the grunts and pants and moans that both of you make rapidly drowning out the stupid action sequence playing out on the television from the long forgotten film.

Unbelievably, you feel a sweet stirring in your lower belly already. It’s with a sense of tired resignation that you acknowledge you’re going to come on Gaz’s dick, despite your original intentions for the evening. Typical. 

But he’s not going to last either, judging by the strained moans in your ear.

“Shit,” He curses, and then his teeth sink into the side of your neck. You shudder, the feeling of him sucking a harsh hickey into your throat sending electric sparks racing through your nerves.

You think, judging from the desperate edge to Gaz’s humping into you from behind, that Gaz has been yearning in your absence in the same way you have for him. You’re biting on your lip hard in an effort to stifle the plaintive, wanting little moans that are threatening to spill over, but your attempts at quieting yourself are mostly unsuccessful. It makes you feel a little crazy, but Gaz doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, the evidence that you want him too only seems to encourage him. 

Your eyes are half-closed as you fuck your hips back on Gaz’s cock, relishing the satisfied little cries he’s emitting into the back of your neck. You clutch clumsily at the strong arm he has wrapped around your belly, crying out yourself as the head of his cock hits that one spot inside you that makes you feel gooey inside. Your toes curl as your head tips back, your skull neatly cradled in the space between Gaz’s head and the couch cushions as he peppers kisses along the side of your neck.

The wet slapping of your bodies colliding is obscene in the quiet of the room; the stupid film still playing does nothing to drown it out. Your body is as limp and relaxed as a doll, allowing him to fuck into you from behind in a frenzy. Right now, you can’t even recall why you ever would have tried to deny yourself this pleasure in the first place.

His hips clap against your ass, those wet sounds getting even louder and more obscene than ever. Gaz is viscerally pleased with the way your ass bounces every time he fucks into you, because he moans and picks up the pace as if he just wants to watch your glutes jiggle every time his hips slap against you. 

That familiar ball of tension starts tightening in your abdomen, your body winding up for a long-awaited and much needed release. It’s so typical that this orgasm feels like it’s going to be a big one too, as though your body needed Gaz to be there to guide you through it in order to achieve proper satisfaction.

But then, in a move so infuriating you almost burst into tears, Gaz pulls out and leaves you high and dry.

“No!” You blurt, and it comes out almost as a wail. “What are you doing?”

“Sorry, baby.” Gaz says a little breathlessly. “Need you to turn over. Want to see you.”

As soon as you realise that he’s not trying to stop and that he’s just trying to reposition you, you’re quick to roll over so that you’re facing him. It seems like that’s exactly what he wanted, because he grins wide and reaches for your hips, eagerly pulling you closer.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty.” He mumbles, his eyes like warm caramelised honey as they track over your face. 

You’re pretty sure he’s full of shit; you’re panting like you’ve run a marathon, you’re sweaty, your hair is dishevelled, and you’re still wearing the ugly sweatshirt you had put on earlier. Yet, even still, Gaz’s genuine little compliment has your heart flipping in your ribcage.

You can’t help but think that you and Gaz are like feral little animals right now. You can barely keep your hands off each other; now that you’ve rolled over to face him, his hands are roaming over your hips and ass like he’s trying to memorise the feel of you by touch alone. 

Embarrassingly, you’re no better – you lunge forward to kiss him, taking advantage of your new position, and he kisses you back hungrily.

Lying sideways on the couch like this is cramped, but Gaz uses his hand on your ass to tug you closer. Then he reaches down, long fingers gripping at your thigh before he pulls it up so that your leg is hitched over his hip.

Oh no, You barely have time to think it before his cock is pressing into you again, the slide made easy this time. Too intimate!

The panicked thought is swiftly dispelled the moment Gaz starts moving again, because goddamn this position is so much better. It’s almost difficult to tell where Gaz ends and you begin, so intertwined are your bodies. Gaz barely even allows for an inch of space. He fucks into you almost as soon as he’s pulled back, making for a fast, frantic pace that barely even gives you a chance to breathe.

You squeal, but your noises are half-moans as you rock your hips mindlessly into his rough, almost animalistic thrusts. Your leg hitched over his hip means that he’s grinding into you deep, deeper than you thought was possible. 

The way the two of you are fucking feels a little bit unhinged, rutting and humping your bodies together in search of mutual pleasure. It should be clumsy and graceless, yet somehow it feels good, as though your body remembers exactly how good Gaz has always treated you, as though your whole being is having a Pavlovian response to his touch. Pleasure burns in your gut, tight and hot, and you moan stupidly as Gaz pounds into you.

“Oh god.” You say without meaning to. The sound of your voice shocks you; you sound wrecked, as though you’ve been fucking for hours. It would have been embarrassing to reveal just how affected you were if Gaz wasn’t also clearly just as eager for it.

“Yeah,” He says, a hybrid of a groan and a gasp muffled against your lips as he clutches at your ass and drives into you wildly. “Fuck, I’m gonna come.”

You are too, you realise wildly. You’re struck by how quickly you’ve both gotten to this point. This whole encounter has been frenzied and feverish, as though the poorly stifled desire between you had turned explosive. 

Gaz kisses you again, and his teeth clack against yours slightly as he licks into your mouth. It’s messy and wet, and it sends a delicious throb of pleasure shooting through your belly. He’s acting so possessive that it’s making your head spin. It should definitely be sending warning bells ringing in your head, or red alarms flashing in your minds eye – it can’t be a good thing that your ex-boyfriend is currently fucking you on your couch like he’s trying to claim you. But you’re apparently a little stupid and very weak, and Gaz has always known how to fuck you dopey and thoughtless. Instead of worry, you get the edges of an orgasm beginning to fizz in your peripheral awareness.

Your pussy must flutter or tighten around him as that lovely sweet promise of release edges closer, because Gaz moans in anticipation and his eager thrusts take on an edge of purpose. You almost protest when he breaks off the kiss, but then you realise that he just wants to be able to focus on keeping his rhythm steady. It’s frenzied and hot, and you swear the air itself is crackling as he kisses sloppily at your neck and fucks you hard.

“Love you,” He slurs in your ear, breathless. “Love you so much, baby.”

His thrusts turn more shallow and far more forceful the closer he gets. Little moans and whines escape his lips between kisses, the sounds ratcheting up in intensity as the two of you rut together.

“Tell me you love me,” He pleads, “Please— tell me you fuckin’ love me, baby. I know you do. I know you—”

You shouldn’t say it. You can’t say it. Yet his cock is fucking you sloppy and stupid, and your mouth moves before you even register that you’re speaking.

“Love you too,” You whimper like a pathetic little idiot, revelling in the exquisite feeling of him grinding against your g-spot just right. It feels so good, you know you’re so, so close to orgasm.

The ache in your abdomen persists— you clench tightly around his cock, your body straining as the muscles in your core clench, trying so hard to push yourself closer to the orgasm you know is coming. You’re so close, so so close— it burns, aches, drives you mad. All you can do is mewl, wrapping your arms around his muscled shoulders as he pounds into you despite the awkward angle.

You can feel your clit throbbing, pulsing, your entire body trying so goddamn hard to climax that you feel like you’re about to cry. You’re burning beneath your skin and all you want to do is gnash your teeth into the elegant line of Gaz’s throat, to leave some kind of indelible mark on his lovely smooth skin.

“Please, please, please— yes, fuck— oh, Kyle,” Your words come out on the breath of an uneven gasp, stuttering with each movement of his hips, perfectly synchronized. 

His voice is low and hot in your ear as he pants, “Let me come inside you, baby— let me, please— fuck.”  

You should say no. Every logical part of you knows that you should tell him to pull out, and yet the wires are crossed when it comes to your actual response. Your leg tightens around his waist, heart seizing in protest at the idea of him pulling out.

“Yes.” You gasp, continuing your streak of impulsive decision-making. Your own hips twitch forward in weak little humps in an effort to fuck yourself onto his cock, your clit grinding against the dark curls at his pubic bone. “Yes, inside, please–”

Your breathy, eager permission seems to give him a burst of energy. He picks up the pace, his body curving into you as his arms wrap around you in a tight embrace. It feels as though your entire world has been narrowed down to Gaz, his broad shoulders blocking out your view of the rest of the room. You cling to him, breathless and messy as you whimper like a loser, your body trembling from the toe-curling zings of pleasure that keep shooting up your spine.

“Oh, oh.. Kyle, please–” You practically sob, your fingernails digging harshly into his shoulders. “Love you, love you, oh my god, I’m gonna come–”

Gaz grunts, obviously eager as his movements grow thoughtful and determined. He knows exactly what you want, what you need at this moment. His abdominal muscles tense and flex with every calculated, deliberate thrust. There is no way to escape the length of him moving hard and thick inside you – not that you want to escape so much as a second of it, of course.

“That’s my girl, always so fucking perfect.” He snarls as your body eagerly takes every dirty roll of his hips, palming at your thigh where it’s hitched over his hip. “Fuckin’ Christ, I’ve been dreaming of your cunt for fucking months, never wanted anything else–”

It makes no sense. Absolutely no sense, that those bizarre, lust-crazed possessive words are what drag you trembling, screaming over the crest of an orgasm so intense the walls of the room white out, each sweeping pulse leaving you unable to do anything but clench and shudder and arch beneath him.

Gaz fucks you like a damn machine; he gives you long, deep strokes over and over as you’re falling apart. Your body seizes around the hot flesh of Gaz’s cock, your mind going white as your cunt spasms, your hole clamping down and pulsing with every desperate, loud moan torn from your mouth. 

You feel like a sloppy little slut, your hips jerking towards him instead of away even as your orgasm washes through you and leaves your body tender and oversensitive. It feels so damn good to feel your mind washing blank and clear, not a single thought taking hold. 

When the toe-curling height of pleasure subsides, you find your nerves frayed and hyper-sensitive. A plaintive whine breaks out of your throat as Gaz keeps fucking you, beginning to thrust up frantically into your twitching pussy. Your body falls limp as Gaz bounces your pliable, warm body up and down his cock as he groans into your ear.

It’s like the rhythmic tightening of your drooling, creaming cunt has him losing his mind, because he grabs the meat of your hips and begins jerking your limp body back towards him. The slap slap slap! of the impact is so loud that every slap makes your breath catch.

“Fuck. I'm—” Your hands slap clumsily at his shoulders, reaching for anything to hold on to, but he doesn’t stop. "Kyle. Kyle—" It’s just your voice, hoarse, breathless, and Gaz bearing down on you, the sound of your bodies somehow growing sloppier, messier as he fucks you and it’s uncompromising, just skirting the edge of painfully overwhelming—

He breaks, shoulders trembling, head bowed into the curve of your neck as he lets out a long, desperate moan. It’s a drawn out, rough groan that is more sob than pleasure, and then you feel him inside you, spilling red hot and wet. Your own orgasm still isn’t fully finished, rolling leisurely through you in little aftershocks, your body still tightening and shivering, and it goes on and on and on.

He holds on to you throughout, as if he’s worried he’ll blow away into the wind without anchoring himself to you. His hips slow, but don’t fully stop. He rolls his hips into you slowly, leisurely, as though he has all the time in the world as he shivers in his come down. You blink, waiting for the colour to bleed back into your vision and for the ringing in your ears to stop, and for the first time all night you’re not thinking about anything at all.

“Please, Kyle.” You slur out stupidly. You have no idea what you’re even asking for; there’s just some vague, barely formed desperation floating around your painfully blank mind as you search for something.

“Mm.” Gaz hums. It feels like he’s everywhere, his broad chest filling up your sight and enveloping you. His hands roam over your body: the backs of your thighs, squeezing as his hands drift over your ass, up and down your back, your neck, his fingers catching around the thin strands of hair and the back of your neck, until finally he settles his fingers on your cheeks.

His palms stay there, just cupping your cheeks as the two of you struggle to regulate your breathing and regain your composure. That antsy sense of desperation eases a little when he leans in to nuzzle fondly at your face, dropping sweet little kisses along your cheeks and nose.

Gaz’s chest rumbles with a low, lovely laugh, his voice gravelly from his climax. “You’re overflowing, sweetheart.”

You let out a careless little sigh, before relaxing experimentally. You can feel a gush of warm seed begin to ooze out around Gaz’s cock, spilling out of your entrance and coating his balls. You wriggle lazily, cunt still pulsing as your wildly beating heart gradually slows to a lazy flutter.

You think you should probably be panicking now. You’ve just fucked your ex, told him you loved him, then let him come inside. With no condom. God, you’re stupid. But the wave of horror you’re expecting never comes. You feel too floaty to care; you suspect if it was anyone other than Gaz, the mortification would have knocked into you like a sledgehammer. 

“You’re gonna get cum on the couch.” You complain, the words coming out clumsy on your tongue.

Gaz just snorts. He makes no effort to pull out, and you have no desire to push him away. The intimacy of your sweat-slick skin pressed together is enough to take your breath away, and it’s only further compounded by the sensation of his cock gradually softening inside you.

“I’ll get it cleaned, love.” He drawls lazily, leaning in to kiss your swollen lips. “Or pay for a new one. Whichever you want.”

When you kiss him back he sighs fondly, one thumb stroking over your cheekbone. You’re still limp in his arms, boneless and spent as you wriggle greedily into his arms. His cock is still lodged inside you, and you’re sure he must be getting uncomfortably sensitive but to your relief he just moans in quiet appreciation when you try to worm your way closer.

“You made a mess.” You mumble against his lips. 

You’re being a little unfair, considering your own slick is coating your thighs and Gaz’s lower belly, but Gaz has always rolled with even the most unreasonable attitude you’ve thrown his way. So he just chuckles, and you feel a little insane as you wonder if anyone else would ever be as patient with you.

“Think we both did, doll.” He murmurs fondly. He leans in and catches your lips with his again, kissing you slowly with a lazy, lewdly open mouth. One hand curls against the nape of your neck, the other hand reaching up beneath your sweater and curling possessively against your left tit, sweeping over your sluggish, sated heartbeat.

You feel practically brainless after your orgasm, relaxed and loose in Gaz’s arms. There’s something to be said for how safe you feel with him, as much as you’d like to deny it, but reality is starting to slowly sink in.

You pull away from his mouth to try and collect yourself, unable to think when he’s kissing you like that. 

“Fuck.” You breathe, closing your eyes with a sigh. It’s slow, but you’re finally starting to think again. “We shouldn’t– we should have used a condom.”

Gaz’s eyes are lidded with fond amusement as he watches you quietly. His hand kneads at your breast absent-mindedly, as though he’s forgotten that he’s groping at you. 

“Don’t overthink it,” He murmurs, kissing your forehead again. “I saw your box of pills in the bathroom. And I’m clean. Haven’t been with anyone but you.”

You tremble a little at his admission, your fingers digging into his shoulders. You feel like you’re losing your mind. Gaz is the most beautiful man you’ve ever met, funny and sweet and always so caring. You love him, even if it kills you a little to admit it, and you don’t know how to respond to his admission that he’s been faithful to you during the long months you weren’t together.

Gaz misinterprets whatever expression is on your face, thumb stroking soothingly over your cheek again. “We can get you a morning-after pill, if it’ll make you feel better.”

You don’t bother correcting him. You’re not that fussed over the morning-after pill – you’re careful when it comes to your birth control, and Gaz had always cum inside you when you were together. The weight of his cock inside you is comforting almost, the wet slide of his cum dripping out of you makes you feel as though you’d never been apart in the first place. You wonder how you could ever have been thick enough to think that someone else could fill Gaz’s place in your life.

As if he knows what you’re thinking, Gaz’s lips twitch. “That pillock you brought home would’ve been such a disappointment, darling.”

You can’t stop your eyes from rolling, exasperated. 

“You don’t know that.” You grumble, though you don’t pull away. You’re still all curled up against his chest, skin still slick and sticky from rapidly cooling sweat, your leg still slung over Gaz’s hip to keep his now-soft cock nestled inside you.

“Sure I do.” He says, and that cocky arrogance that both drives you mad and makes you swoon is rearing its head. He reaches down, and his thick fingers roll over your much-too-sensitive clit. “She missed me, gorgeous. Don’t think she would have liked some strange tosser pounding away at her with no idea how to please her.”

The way he talks about your pussy as though it has its own thoughts and feelings has you rolling your eyes again, though your cheeks burn with embarrassment. To your immense irritation, you think he might have a point. You haven’t come that hard in months, not since the breakup.

“Oh, shut up.” You sigh tiredly.

He snickers, and then shifts. It takes you a moment to realise that he’s pulling his hips back preparing to pull out. Your brain stalls, and you wrap your arms around his neck and shoulders in protest. You’re not ready to feel the invasive, aching emptiness that will no doubt throb through your core as soon as he’s not filling you up. 

“Stay.” You say, and it comes out as an embarrassingly breathy little plea.

Gaz goes practically limp, as though your hoarse request had taken the wind right out of him. You’re not expecting the way he brings both arms around your waist before rolling over onto his back, hauling you up to lay over his chest. His cock remains firmly lodged inside you, though the movement has resulted in his white creamy spend leaking out onto your inner thighs.

“Not going nowhere.” He mumbles, one hand stroking over your flank to soothe you. “I’m on leave for at least a month.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.” Gaz hums. He must sense that this is a delicate moment, because he doesn’t make any ribald jokes about having all month to fuck you like you’re expecting him to. He just presses a tender kiss to your temple, his lips lingering gently.

Usually, you’d probably be a little embarrassed by how clingy you’re being. You had been so damn determined not to fall into bed with Gaz after the breakup, but you’re so, so weak. His stupid honey brown eyes and gorgeous dimples and crooked grin is enough to send you to your knees. You rest your forehead against his chest as he holds you close; at least like this, you can’t see his stupid handsome face.

He’s obviously pleased with the way you’re snuggling into him, because his chest rumbles as he hums in satisfaction. He’s holding you tight like he thinks you’re going to slip away the moment he blinks.

“You okay?” He asks quietly.

You don’t answer immediately. There’s no way to brush this under the carpet, or to go back to pretending at detached disinterest. If you had wanted to play this off as just a bit of stress relief, then you should have rolled away from him the second he’d spilled inside of you rather than cuddling with him on the couch. There’s no way that you can claim that this was just a case of needing to get laid; you’re still clutching at him like a limpet, the two of you intertwined so tight that it’s difficult to tell when your limbs end and Gaz’s begin.

“I’m tired.” You sigh eventually, sidestepping the conversation that you know you’ll have to deal with eventually.

No doubt Gaz notices your not particularly subtle avoidance, but he doesn’t comment. He seems quite happy to indulge your every whim; he probably wants to avoid the this-was-a-mistake-and-we-need-to-maintain-boundaries conversation even more than you do.

“Let’s get you to bed then,” He murmurs, and then he surprises you by sitting up. You’re still laid out across his chest, which means that when he shimmies up into a sitting position, you end up sitting sprawled in his lap.

You’re still speared a little awkwardly on his soft cock, the sensation of him inside you making your eyelids flutter a little. You feel satisfied, your muscles still watery and weak, and you sigh a little mournfully when Gaz finally pulls his cock out of you. You ache, a deep throb that both stokes and settles you. It’s like a comfortable little reminder that Gaz was here, and that he left his mark on you.

You can feel the way he leans back just to get a glimpse of his spend trickling down the inside of your thigh. You pout and bury your face into his throat, your arms wrapped tight around his shoulders still as you try to hide your sudden self-consciousness.

But Gaz isn’t interested in giving you a moment to hide. You feel the edge of his teeth ghost the shell of your ear before he speaks, just low enough to make you shiver.

“Let me take you out tomorrow, sweetheart.” He says, and beneath his usual cocky countenance you hear the edge of a plea. “I’ll make up for ruining your date tonight. You can wear that little dress from earlier for me again.”

You feel exposed, stripped bare as you perch in Gaz’s lap. His hand strokes evenly over your spine, waiting patiently for your response.

“I want a fancy dinner.” You mumble, your fingers curling around his shoulders. “At a nice restaurant.”

You hear a shaky little exhale, and Gaz’s arms tighten around your waist. It strikes you that he’s relieved, and you feel your heart tremble in response. The knowledge that he wants you still is enough to have your own lungs seizing in response; you can’t quite bear to wonder if you’ve been wasting time for these past few months that you’ve been broken up. 

“Whatever you want.” He says it like a prayer, tilting his head in search of your lips again.

The kiss is easy, the months that you’ve been apart dissolving into nothing. You’re a little too stubborn to give in entirely and beg for him back just yet though, but you doubt it matters. You’ve already admitted your weakness for him in the middle of shagging, and you’re not stupid enough to hope that he’s somehow forgotten it. You’ve been trying so hard to shove all those feelings down deep, but you’re not too surprised that they’ve all come bubbling out. He’s got a month of leave. You have no doubt that he’s going to use that time to change your mind. You find that you don’t mind the idea as much as you thought you might; you suspect that you can be swayed all too easily.

You peek up at him, only to come face to face with his sweet, hopeful deep brown eyes. He’s not pushing, but you can see the weight of desire and yearning in every inch of his face. No doubt it’s mirrored on your own. You don’t think you could ever look into his pretty face and deny him anything.

You hum, then whisper the only answer you could ever give.

“Yeah. Okay. It’s a date, then.”

[thinemoonshine]

how do i scream into a mic and send it to u as a voice note over anon bc omg omfg wtf FUCK

U DONT GET ITTTT I'VE BEEN ROOTING FOR SUNOO FROM THE STAAAARRTTTTT 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

okayyyy ummmm i honestly am at a loss for words LMAO no but seriously this has been so worth the wait and i genuinely dont know if this could ever ever be topped by another fic for a long long time my god

one thing abt me is that im a sunoo biased before im human and what u have blessed this platform w fulfills each and every craving i've ever wanted and didn't know i needed GAWD LIKE i'll gush abt this series in 200 paragraphs im not even kidding nobody can stop me now

like i was saying (and yes im that same anon) i've been hungry for a fic just like this, where mc hold all the power, reverse harem, dark/supernatural themes, etc, except u gave me so so much more like no shade but every other writer on this app seem to withdraw from writing sunoo as the center piece of mc's attention in ot7 fics, and i can't lie the amount of delight and joy and the absolute unfiltered satisfaction leche of the sirens brought me just bc he's the "main" one—im so happy like fr thank YOU 🫵🫵🫵

and it's not just that, jfc the way u describe the gore and horror—THE VIVIDNESS OF IT ALL—is unlike any other, like it's a perfect balance of grotesqueness and violence without being overbearing, the fear and emotions detailed so gut-wrenchingly good in each and every one of them, like jfc my hats off to u for handling 8 characters so well and with none of them feeling two dimensional, OH AND WHEN RIKI'S DROPPING THEIR BODIES OFF THE CLIFF—those lines will stick w me until the day i die, how do u write so impactfully and encaptivatingly it's mind breaking, like if a siren wrote this i wouldn't think twice lmao

i absolutely ADORE the mental snap of riki and sunoo's, i can't tell u how many works i've read where they just drag a scene like that on and on, when really imo those scenes should've been spontaneous and quick, just like what u absolutely nailed. the build up from previous chapters where we read how they've all been slowly spiralling and obsess over mc really made those scenes all worth it

AND MY GOD u dont get how clutched my pearls are when it was just riki and sunoo jfc my heart was abt to sink thinking sunoo's done for, BUT I KNEWWW i so knew that he's been one crazy bitch from the start and what riki said to him just set him off and finally set his morals aside. this is why i love this series so much, how well u write dark and insane romance w again such perfect pacing that leaves me savoring every word.

ugh i want to talk abt the others but i honestly can't 😭 my mind is filled w only sunoo sunoo and sunoo

ALSO THAT ENDINGGGG i totally didn't not see that coming omfg, the fact that the others are still scummy even in their reincarnation lurches my stomach, AND HOW SUNOO BECAME A SIREN TOO OMFGGGG i was tweaking in my bed when he was reintroduced to them the same way mc first appeared. and im so so delighted when riki finally has a chance to join her like it's just all falling into place.

honestly give me sunoo now bc im so in delulu mode rn over how he couldn't keep his hands off of her at the end my god i need him like that also pls pls tell me mc ate them at the end too bc omfg i never wanted to stop reading this 😭 esp w sunoo being the way he is now (i can't stop thinking abt him im sorry lmao)

anw pls dont ever die op, ur my favorite writer and i learn from u fr the way u write has me in a chokehold 🫶

I.LOVE.THIS.SO.MUCH💗‼️ AHHHHHH YOURE SO ENTHUSIASTIC ABOUT THIS I LOVED EVERYTHING I ADORE YOU HEGSUSBSJJSSM

AND I SO AGREE WITH WHAT YOURE SAYING, like sunoo seems to have very little fics compared to the other members and i adore him so much ☹️☹️ i’m glad that you’re satisfied with the story and i thank YOU 🫵🏻 back for being such a great person—taking time out of your day to comment and share your feedback for my work 💗

[audioaujom]

5: A Cliffside Confrontation

CHTangled Hub, <prev, next >

Hey hey! Me again, lol. Have another decently long update that has been brewing in my head for more than the last two weeks. Truthfully, the Emily x Murph enemies to lovers thing this fic has going on is something I’m so obsessed with thinking about that writing it was difficult. Does that make any sense? Just realized if I’d started uploading these two weeks sooner, I could’ve posted an update of terrible parenting Mother Gothel!Brennan for father’s day. Missed op fr. Anyway, enjoy!

Word Count: 2848

Chapter TWs: Minor Violence and Injury, Near Drowning

--

Emily grabbed a hanging lantern as soon as the door behind them shut, letting Zac trail awkwardly behind her as they trudged down the desolate, underground path. The large cobwebs  and rocks covered in dust kept the nervousness from the encounter in the tavern from going away, the thief half-expecting to round a corner and come face to face with a bloodied corpse.

She shook her head to distract herself, turning to glance over her shoulder at Zac—who was clutching the frying pan from the tavern close to his chest and glancing around wildly. He was now a far cry from the guy who’d suddenly dominated the entire tavern with his upbeat attitude. She didn’t like it. “You know, I gotta say… whatever that was back there, I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“I know!” Zac cheered, excited, before an embarrassed flush took over his face and he cleared his throat, trying again and doing his best to sound suave. “I mean, I know.” 

Emily only raised her eyebrows, but didn’t comment. Zac deflated slightly.

“So… what’s your deal?”

Emily stopped in her tracks so suddenly that Zac ran into her back, Lou letting out an indignant squeak from the sudden jerk. “Excuse me?”

“Well, you’re clearly on the run from something.” Zac shrugged, shifting his grip on the frying pan as they started walking again. “I guess I just wanna know more about you.”

“Yeah, uh, no.” Emily’s rejection was immediate. She had absolutely no desire to pour her heart out to Zac, and if she did it would not be in this abandoned crawlspace. “Nothing for you to be curious about. I’m just little ol’ me.” She looked back at Zac, who frowned and slumped in on himself in defeat, and she felt a sharp prick at her conscience. Not enough to actually have her tell him anything, though. “I am; however, very interested in you.”

Zac stared at her, eyes wide. “Me?”

“Well, other than the whole ‘tower’ and ‘dude who is not-quite-your-dad’ that I don’t want to ask about, and that creepy frog—”

“Chameleon.” Zac corrected, earning a dismissive wave from Emily.

“Details.” She shrugged, watching Lou stick his tongue at her. She did it back, not feeling even an ounce of shame. “The thing you talk to all the time. So I guess the only thing left on the table is…” She slowed down her walk to a stop, turning to face Zac fully. “If you want to see the lanterns this badly, why have you never gone before?”

“Oh, uh, well, you know…” Zac seemed to be at a genuine loss for words, awkwardly rubbing at the back of his neck as he fumbled around for something to say. He stopped after a moment, turning to look back down the way they came—which was now rumbling with distant and heavy footsteps. “Uh… what’s that?” “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.” Emily paled, clutching the lantern tighter as her other hand went to grab Zac’s arm.

The horde of royal knights that had interrupted them at the tavern rounded the corner, all sprinting at full speed—with none other than a furious Sir Murphy at the front.

“Axford!”

“Ah, shit.” Emily was ready to go as soon as the first flashes of armor came into sight, dragging Zac along as she dashed away from them. “Time to run!”

The two had a minor head start on the guards—and Zac seemed to keep up just fine, somehow—and ran as fast as they could, only skidding to a stop as the path let out into open air that just so happened to be at the edge of a major cliff.

Emily quickly looked around, trying to come up with the best escape plan she could. This was the part she was good at, after all.

To her right was a tall, wooden dam, holding back a nearly overflowing reservoir and letting it trickle down a ramshackle aqueduct that let out at the bottom of the cliff into a small stream to keep the water at a manageable level. The support beams holding up the wall were already bending and bowing under the weight, but what really caught Emily’s eye was the two different mineshaft openings in the clearing at the bottom of the cliff. If they could just get down there…

Sir Murphy and his accompanying knights also came to a stop as they realized they had the two cornered on the clifftop, all drawing their swords. Emily grinned as she saw them, but it wobbled as she then saw the brothers she’d abandoned crash through one of the two openings at the bottom of the cliff with a barely contained loud swear.

“Who is that?” Zac asked, looking down at the bottom of the cliff anxiously.

“Let’s just say they’re guys who don’t like me very much.” Emily chuckled, her first plan already abandoned as she tried to recalculate in her head. Hoping to buy even a moment of time, she thumbed over at the guards and pointed out Sir Murphy in particular. “Them either. And definitely not that guy.”

“You seem popular.” Zac’s comment was painfully sarcastic, causing another chuckle from Emily.

“Like you wouldn’t believe.” She regained her cocky composure, nodding at Zac. “We need to go.”

“Got it.” He took one look around at their surroundings, before tossing the frying pan he’d been carrying to Emily and jogging off for the dam wall. “Here. Just give me a second!”

“This crazy bastard…” Emily watched him go, barely catching the frying pan by dropping the lantern and turning back to the now minorly confused knights in front of her. “Hey. How’s it going?”

Murph was thoroughly unamused. “I’ve waited a long time for this.”

“Ah, well, I haven’t, so.” Emily grinned wider as he gritted his teeth and held tighter onto the handle of his sword, suddenly lunging forward at her.

She swiped his swing away with the pan, grossly misjudging its weight and nearly falling over but still deflecting his blade. Both of them stared at each other in surprise, not expecting such an effective parry from the pan. 

“Oh man! I have got to get me one of these.” Emily grinned wide, testing its weight to get adjusted and be ready this time as Murph shook off the strangeness and lunged again.

The other knights hung back and watched as Emily deftly dodged and blocked each attack of Murph’s, his anger visibly increasing with every failed swing. “Just! Give! Up! Already!”

“No thanks! I’m not the quitting type.”

While the emotions on both sides of the fight were vastly different—rage on one side and amusement on the other—the two matched each other’s intensity perfectly. The balance only shifted when a well-placed feint from Murph allowed him to get in a brief yet still quite deep slice to Emily’s hand holding the pan, her losing her grip and grabbing at the now bleeding wound with her free hand. Murph extended his blade to hover near her throat, her hands going up together with a sheepish smile.

“How about best two out of three?” Her joke was met with a hard glare, the two in a long deadlock as she eyed his blade and he looked her over carefully.

“Emily!” Zac called, Emily turning to see not only that Zac had made it to a nearby tall rock, but that he'd also managed to knock loose one of the beams holding up the dam that was now falling towards her cliff to give her a bridge.

She stared, mouth agape.

How in the everloving fuck had Zac gotten over there?!

Zac had simply climbed the dam wall after tossing Emily the frying pan. He needed both hands, after all.

Climbing in the tower rafters had really built up some climbing strength and experience, him tracking a path to a large, flat topped rock supporting the aqueduct Emily had seen. With the guards distracted, jumping to grab a beam sticking out and then swinging and jumping to the next in the sequence like a rickety set of monkey bars was rather easy.

He steadied himself on the other side, turning a triumphant smile to Lou on his shoulder, before noticing that Emily had been disarmed and cornered by the knight. With no time to think, he went at kicking one of the perfectly placed beams until it was knocked loose and would fall across the gap between the rocks.

He didn't miss Emily’s flabbergasted stare, nor the confusion and surprise from the knights. However, Emily was quick to recover and jog across, easily keeping her balance. 

“Here, help me pull!” Emily dropped to her knees as soon as she reached the rock face and slid to the end of the beam, grabbing at it with her uninjured hand and starting to pull—to drop it into the gap before the knights could cross.

Zac nodded and bent down to help as she got one foot under herself for leverage, the two yanking the makeshift bridge inch by inch towards the edge of the cliff.

“Not so fast!” Murph raged as he stepped up and got his balance just before it fell over the edge, running across it as it started to crumble the cliff’s edge and tip.

Emily and Zac pulled together one last time, fully dislodging the beam and watching the heavy wood start to free fall into the chasm below. 

Murph was so close, and out of sheer determination—and likely, a lot of luck—jumped off the falling beam and managed to grab onto the edge of the rock Emily and Zac stood on, very ungracefully pulling himself up.

“You are really persistent!” Emily wolf-whistled at the disheveled and furious knight, hands on her hips. “One might even think you like me.”

“I would enjoy nothing more than killing you on the spot.” Murph threatened through panted breaths, going for his sword only to realize it had been left on the other cliff—which was now inaccessible.

Emily smirked. “Ah, young love.”

Before Murph could respond she grabbed Zac’s arm and jumped into the flowing water of the aqueduct, the two then running down it even as it shook from their combined weight.

Recognizing that it was going to break before they reached the end, Emily knocked Zac over and purposefully fell back onto her ass, the two letting the water push them down the now-makeshift slide. She turned to look at the brothers below, seeing them waiting at the end of the aqueduct and turning to Zac—who had no idea what she was thinking, but nodded anyway.

She kicked one leg out front and slammed it down into the bottom of the slide—just in front of the end, rocking her body to the side and bracing herself against the walls of the aqueduct as the panel they were on broke loose and tipped forward. The rest of the structure quickly toppled over behind them and dropped wood and gushing water onto the now distracted brothers, Emily getting to her feet with Zac scrambling to follow as the broken wood beneath their feet fell in a perfect arc forward from the beam attached to the bottom.

“We gotta jump!” She yelled, waiting until just before the wood smashed into the ground to leap forward and land steadily on her feet just in front of the mineshaft entrance—just as planned. Kind of.

Zac’s landing behind her was much more rough, unable to catch himself on just his feet and falling forward, having to use his hands to keep his face from smashing into the ground. 

Their victory was short lived as the dam gave a huge shudder, the missing beam allowing the weight of the reservoir full of water to break through the cracks in the wooden wall. Water immediately began gushing out and breaking new cracks into the wood, threatening to give way to a giant tidal wave. The knights hurried back out the way they came as Murph dropped to the bottom of the chasm and took the other mineshaft exit—just as all of the water broke loose and slammed into the rock face, starting to knock it over.

Zac was on his feet in an instant and running with Emily, the two making it into the nearest exit and avoiding the fall of the rock by just a few feet. It landed perfectly flat against the entrance, sealing the way they came in yet still allowing some of the flood in around the edges. They quickly discovered that the shaft had collapsed some time ago, their exit blocked by a cascade of fallen rock. The cave was filling up quickly, Emily ducking down into the now waist-height water to try and see if she could move any of the rocks blocking their path before the water got too high.

However, the rock blocking the entrance only allowed water in and no light, preventing her from being able to see anything. She broke back up through the surface as the water reached her stomach, panicked. “It’s no use! I can’t see anything.” Emily gasped for air in the slowly closing gap they had left, grabbing at Zac’s shoulder as he started to dive down to look himself. “Hey, there’s no point! It’s pitch black down there.” 

The two stood in silence, the water slowly rising. Zac finally turned to where Emily stood, both of their eyes unadjusted to the darkness.

“This is all my fault… He was right. I never should’ve done this.” Zac sounded dead serious, his voice cracking mournfully as he closed his eyes and leaned back against one of the cave walls. “I’m… so sorry, Emily.”

Emily fumbled for a moment but grabbed his shoulder, squeezing it gently. Just because she felt it was hopeless didn’t mean he had to, too. Even if it probably was. “It’s okay, we’ll… There has to be a way out. It’ll be fine, right? Yeah, it’ll be fine.”

The water had reached up to Emily’s throat by the time something occurred to Zac, him staring down at his roughly scraped hands with an idea.

“Wait, my… my tears.” He mumbled, turning to Emily’s darkened figure. He grabbed at the palm of his left hand, his thumb hovering over a minor scrape. “They glow a little when I—!”

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Emily cut him off and grabbed at his hands, noticing that he was about to do something that she felt was recklessly stupid and likely pointless. Tears? That was his solution? “Now is not the time for—!”

He yanked away from her, digging his hand into the scrapes on his palm hard enough tears welled up in his eyes, starting to hum softly yet quickly to activate the magic before they ran out of air. “Deep breath!” 

The two took matching deep gulps of air before the water got over Emily’s head, the two ducking down into the water as a couple of Zac’s tears slipped out and mingled with the water surrounding them.

Each tear shimmered faintly, dispersing into the water and giving them the very faintest amount of light—but still enough that a trail of bubbles at the bottom of the rock wall caught Zac’s eye. Emily was far too busy staring at the glowing water, having accidentally let her breath out in surprise as the light appeared. She was dizzy and lightheaded as Zac yanked a couple of rocks loose at the bottom, her vision ready to black out as her lungs screamed at her for air before a huge shift in the force of the water had both of them careening through the new hole Zac had made and getting washed away by the tide.

A moment later, the two crashed into the bank of a river, heads shooting out of the water as the pair took in relieved and refreshing gulps of air.

“We made it…” Zac panted, hoisting himself up to rest on the bank of the river—legs still swaying in the current.

Emily propped herself up on her elbows lightning fast, eyes wide and disbelieving. “Your tears glow.” 

“We’re alive…” Zac trailed off, ignoring Emily's blatant panic from beside him as he got to his feet excitedly. “I’m alive!”

“His tears… I never in a million billion years saw that coming.” Emily turned to Lou, who must have also been washed to shore by the water and was watching them from the bank. He nodded, Emily feeling the sympathy as she let out another loud, bewildered sigh. “Why… why do they do that?”

Zac turned as Lou grabbed at his leg and then climbed to his shoulder, noticing Emily staring blankly out at the woods. “Emily.” 

“What the hell? They… I’m pretty sure they’re not supposed to do that.” She continued to mumble to herself, not snapping out of the daze until Zac yelled—

“Emily!” 

“What?” She turned to him, still halfway in the river.

Zac smiled down at her, wiping the water from his face. “They do more than just glow.”

[solopostings]

Sealing the Phantom Away.

a collab short story w/ @robbietech !

- - -

"This is the area... underneath our feet." Salem kneeled down, his hand flat against the hot desert sand.

Behind him were Dima and Amadeus. Weapons in hand ready to protect him with their lives.

"Down below... like where my guardian is?" Amadeus raised his eyebrow, resting against his ancient spear.

"Yes... he hides in the depths filled with that dark... malice, you called it?" Salem stood back up, dusting off the sand from his robe.

Dima remained silent, dreading the heat quietly to himself.

"How do we get down there? I can get one of my guardians and—"

"Won't be necessary." Salem hummed, "I can warp us straight down... but we must go through a strategy first."

Salem sat down in the air, levitating as he opens a book that appeared out of thin air.

"You two will have to keep him busy while I draw the seal." Salem flipped the book to show the other two.

"Well damn, how long is that gonna take ya? Y'know Ravii isn't the weakest enemy." Amadeus titled his head. irritation lacing his words.

"We will do what we can." Dima finally spoke up, "For as long as it takes."

Salem closed the book, waving his hand to make it disappear.

"I'll remain hidden with a cloaking spell. As for you two. Sneak up behind him and strike. I'll be fast... I'm quite the quick spell caster, you know." A smirk arched Salem's lips. mischief in that smile.

"So, we distract him and... then what?"

Salem looked at Amadeus, "When you see me disappear in the shadows once again... that is the signal to get him within the circle.

... But we will need something to hold him down. Something powerful to hold him..."

The three remained silent in thought.

Dima bit his cheek.

He knew what would do the job.

"His sword. It was meant to kill a Dominis. But with the strength he has now, it would only stun him... you can leave that part to me."

Salem's eyes widened at the Zephyr; he was known as the Sword of the Dominis. The Protector. Their Shield. Generations of protecting that family.

... would he truly be up to the task at hand?

"Are you sure about it? Deus could—"

"No." Dima turned his head away, "I am the one who should do it."

Amadeus and Salem glanced at each other. Salem nodded in return, drawing his attention back to Dima.

"The Kingdom will be counting on you, Dima. You realize this, right? We have one chance to do this... if you fail..."

"I won't fail. You put your trust in me. Let me do it."

Amadeus bit his cheek — apart of him was relieved he didn't have to do the final blow. He couldn't live with that guilt.

As much as he hated him, a part of him was still a friend for quite some time now. Amadeus knew this was the only way. There was no saving Ravii from Ganondorf's clutches.

He was too far gone.

Sighing, the Yiga moved his spear from the sand, "Auuugh! Let's get this over with before it gets dark."

Before he had a change of heart.

Salem nodded, "All ready?"

The other two nodded.

That was all the sign he needed.

Salem muttered a spell, holding his index and middle finger up to his forehead. Opening his eyes wide, they turned a bright orange.

Sending the three deep, deep down below.

- - -

Below the surface, deep down under the harsh heat of the Gerudo Desert... where the giant Dark Skelton was, that is where he hid.

Salem placed his finger to his mouth, waving his free hand to cast a cloaking spell on all of them. He then made his move to hide away.

Far from them to begin drawing the sealing circle.

Ravii's final resting place.

Then that is where they found the king...

Without warning, the two ran into battle. Fighting under the skeleton of what most likely used to be a leviathan below.

A surprise attack by Amadeus was first. Jumping into the air and slamming his ancient spear next to the Glacian. Dima was quick on his feet — seconds behind as he attacked Ravii from the other side.

Ravii suddenly jumped up, turning on his heel to look at them both. Opening his hand — two blades formed in his grasp.

The Sword of the Goddesses and a curved Gerudo scimitar. Similar to what Urbosa wielded. Yet the tip was edged. A stab from this one would hurt much, much more.

"So you found me after all... traitors." Ravii clenched his jaw, glaring at both.

Amadeus ; once he could call him a true friend. He saved his life, Ravii always returned the favor after that.

Dima ; his sword Sword. His protector. His right hand. His Knight. Now fighting against him. As a Fierce Deity, no less.

Ravii recognized the markings on both of them...

Meaning Salem was nearby... but where?

"Where is he hiding? That vile man..." Ravii ran towards Dima first, slamming his swords down at the knight's blade.

Amadeus rushed on the other side, but with a quick movement, Ravii spun around to dodge the Yiga's attack.

Perhaps it was not smart to fight with the techniques he showed him a long time ago.

The two Champions fought against the Phantom for a while. Taking turns trying to tire him out. But each attack seemed to be all in vain. The Phantom was fast on his feet. Returning attacks and dodging with ease.

He knew them. How they moved. How they attacked.

Ravii was good. too good. He fought like a Gerudo warrior with two blades. One in each hand. He was quick and almost too elegant the way he moved.

Truly trained by the Gerudo in his younger years.

Amadeus struck his spear against one blade as Dima slammed his own sword against the other in Ravii's grip.

"Is that all you two have? I'm growing bored." Ravii laughed as he spun again, causing the tip of his blades to hit the ground. A spark was casted. a sign of something.

"Run!" Amadeus yelled — he knew that move.

Dima jumped back as lightning struck down inches away from the Zephyr and the Yiga. Amadeus slammed his spear on the ground, swinging himself away from the strike. Grumbling as he wiped his mouth.

"You're not makin' it easy, huh?" Amadeus growled.

Ravii held up both blades in a familiar manner. His Sword of the Goddesses in one hand over his forehead and the Gerudo scimitar by his mouth. tainted by his own gloom — making it nearly impossible to break while he wields it.

Hiding the wide smile he had.

despite it all... Ravii was having fun.

Salem was nearly done drawing the seal circle as the other two kept the king busy. The Islean looked at the book in his hand, back to the ground. Taking a deep breath, Salem stood up. Checking it one last time.

... It was done.

All he needed now was Ravii to stay within this circle.

Amadeus glanced quickly at Salem, seeing him hiding back within the shadows.

Ah! That was the sign.

With his Sheikah like speed, Amadeus ran toward Ravii, kicking the scimitar out of his hand. Ravii growled, losing his momentum. Swinging the sword a bit too madly.

Amadeus dodged every swing, jumping backwards closer and closer to the sealing circle. Ravii, blind with rage, followed him without even realizing.

Dima stayed behind Amadeus until ready.

"Now!" Amadeus yelled as he quickly tripped Ravii with his ancient spear. Grabbing the Sword of the Goddesses from his hand... throwing it up into the air.

Dima ran quickly behind him and leaped into the air, grabbing the sword and slamming it down.

Ravii gasped, suddenly freezing into place. His head slowly narrowed down at the sight. His own sword stabbed his chest.

It was as if time stopped — everything went silent.

Ravii tried to pull it out. However, Dima kept a firm grip, making sure the blade stayed put.

There, out of the shadows, slowly emerged the Zaquatis. His eyes glowed a bright orange within the darkness.

Salem waved his free hand, and the other was making the old ancient book hover in the air. a familiar green and purple aura surrounded the book.

It was Salem's turn to shine.

The circle drawn by the Islean himself began to glow around Ravii. Green mist emerged from it, sinking deep within Ravii's wound from the sword.

This is how he was going to be sealed away.

"All of you will regret your actions!" Ravii screeched as Dima pushed the sword deeper, "I was going to make Hyrule better!"

Dima's hands trembled as he had to keep hold while the mage from afar held out his hand. Muttering a spell in his own tongue whilst green magic came from the sword now. Sealing the Glacian's fate before their eyes.

Ravii's eyes widened, unable to move his limbs any longer. Frozen. His back arched back, standing on his feet. Feeling he was going to fall backward, yet something felt to hold him up.

The pain of his own blade pierced through his chest by the man who swore to protect him. He eyed him one last time — seeing Dima's face. Marks of the Fierce Deity.

How awful it was having everyone against him.

... he couldn't understand why. he was only making Hyrule better. he was promised by Ganondorf himself.

Salem waved his hand and clapped loudly. His spell was casted — Ravii was sealed to the sword.

... Stuck there for all eternity.

"When I.... awaken again..." Ravii slowly moved his hands away from the sword.

"... I will.... hunt you all down and..." His words faded. falling silent as he stood there frozen in time.

Dima stumbled backward and slumped next to Ravii, his head in his hands as he clenched his jaw.

"I swore to protect the Dominis..." Dima whispered to himself, "... not kill them."

Amadeus took a long, deep breath, leaning against his ancient spear, "Is it over?"

Salem closed his eyes to take a moment to rest. This magic was not his everyday spells — this took a lot out of him, "Yes... it should be over now."

The three remained silent.

Until the earth began to rumble.

Shaking under their feet.

"He's trying to kill us with his last breath!" Salem gasped, looking up at the rocks from above beginning to fall.

"Dammit, we need to leave now." Amadeus grabbed Salem's arm and started running. Salem's life was the most important in the Champion's eyes. His instinct to protect shining through.

Dima, still in shock of what he has done, stayed sitting down. His hands still cover his face.

Salem skid to a stop, turning to look at Dima, "We must leave! You will be taken out if we stay any longer!"

Dima didn't budge. Slowly glancing at Ravii's frozen stance of him screaming in pain. That expression of betrayal. anger... was stuck there for all eternity... because of him.

"I can't leave his side..." Dima whispered under his breath.

Salem shook his head, muttering another spell. He shouldn't have done this again after that last one, but...

As he waved his hand, the three disappeared in green mist. Quickly flying up back to the surface.

If they were any later, they would have been crushed by the falling rocks. Everything was shut in.

Ravii was not reachable now in the depths no matter where one went.

When back on the surface, Salem stumbled against the stone wall. Amadeus immediately rushed to his side, helping him stand.

"Ya should have left him!" Amadeus gritted his teeth as he glared at Dima. The knight stood there staring at his shaking hands.

"No... I will not leave anyone who has helped me behind, Champion." Salem smiled weakly as he glanced at the Zephyr.

Truthfully, Salem could feel the sorrow deep within Dima's soul. It cried. Begged to be forgiven.

Salem slowly walked to Dima, placing his hand on his shoulder, "... go home. Your family needs you just as you need them."

The knight slowly drew his saddened gaze to Salem. tears building up in his eyes.

"She will not forgive me for doing what I have done..."

"Yeah, she will. Her damn brother nearly killed us all... again." Amadeus walked over and kicked the desert sand. a small fit of rage still within him.

"We saved the kingdom, Dima! What's your damn problem?!"

"You're hurt too, Deus." Salem chimed in as he pointed at him. Amadeus was taken aback. His eyes widened slightly.

"You saw him as a friend. someone to trust and take care of... you felt betrayed." The Zaquatis spoke softly. "He betrayed all of our trust. We are all hurting today... not just Dima."

Amadeus clicked his tongue, turning his head away.

... he wasn't wrong. by hylia above, Amadeus was hurt the most. Months prior, he was laughing, having drinks with the man, enjoying the time they had. He was the best friend he never thought he could have.

He even trusted him with Suki and Imara;

... his own daughters.

It was the sudden shift in everything. That grip Ganondorf still had of him that got Ravii to turn on all of them.

Amadeus was the first to get the worst of it, as always.

Salem places his hand over his heart, closing his eyes, "We must make a promise to speak of this to no one... not even our little ones. For their safety."

Amadeus sighs, ".... Suki is gonna wonder where he went. Imara is too young to remember him anyway." The look in his eye was no longer anger — rather, the look of heartbreak.

"Say he went back home for good. She is still young, after all... she may forget with time." Sighing, Salem shook his head.

"... we should head back home now. Thank you both for your help."

Dima and Amadeus nodded.

The three walked their separate ways.

The weight of dread all felt heavy on their shoulders.

Dima killed his own king.

Amadeus helped seal away one of his best friends.

Salem... he felt too guilty of truly killing him. His good nature took the best of him; he could admit that. only to himself.

Leaving Ravii in a frozen state of pain instead.

Perhaps... perhaps death was a better choice.

Either way, it mattered not. No one could break that spell, seeing he was the only person who could read the spell anyway.

No one else could read Islean, after all...

He would stay sealed forever.