#Oh it cut off the rest of my tags I guess this means I should stop rambling now

[prncessjaeger]

eren and his mystery cheerleader gf! ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

syp: no one believed eren had such a pretty gf…until now

trin speaks!: be mindful i might have errors. it’s normal.  

“so where’s your so-called "girlfriend" at? or did you make this one up too like the last time-”

“oh fuck off, connie, that was one time, and i was 12!” the rest of his friends surrounding him laughed at his embarrassment, (apparently he was the only one without a girlfriend so he made up having one…like i’m talking fake messages and everything.) currently, they were at a rival school’s basketball game since you didn’t go to their school and of course eren decided to come and support you…but his friends armin, connie, and onyankopon tagged along with him, wanting to see who his “special lady” was. “so is the game gonna start or…?” “uh, i think? it just turned 6-” armin was cut off with a set of claps and loud stomps from the side of the bleachers, cheerleaders could be heard shouting a set of words while the boys ran out through the middle of them. parents, children and other spectators could be heard yelling in excitement for the intense game that was yet to happen. 

eren looked around to spot you, finding you sitting on the bottom bleacher scrolling on your phone, and the boys traced his eyesight, “bro no way you date that girl sitting on the bottome row?” “huh?” connie pointed at you, “her? she’s toooo fine to be dating you-” “hey?! what’s wrong with me?” “-she should be dating me!” everyone around him rolled their eyes, “if anything she should date me, black love is the best love-” “right, but she’s entitled to date anyone she dates, besides we don’t know her,” armin was received with blank stares from all three of em while ignoring eren’s mumbling claims of, “i’m the one dating her,” soon or later it was halftime, which was a break time for everyone.

the dance team began to perform and all the cheerleaders went their separate ways. connie and armin went to concessions and onyankopon was talking with a girl he’d just met, so eren searched and searched for you, until he felt a pair of cold, soft hands hindering his vision. “guess whooo~”

“my beautiful baby i’d hope?” you kept his eyes covered as you moved infront of him, then removed them happily, “well you hoped right! hi eren!” you hugged him and sat next to him, leaning into his arms, “oh wait- you see our new uniforms?” “yes, its looks amazing- they added glitter to the school letters?” your curls shooks as you rapidly nodded, “yes! and the other sports coaches complained about it, wanting the letters to be unisex but i mean, glitter is glitter, and THEN the coaches made us run 5 laps before the game because someone left their bow at home, and now…” he turned towards you so he could listen to you better, and once the buzzer went off, you had to bid your goodbye, “you taking me home?” “you think you could ride home with sasha - i have the guys and i don’t wanna make it too crowded, i’ll get you once you get home?” your slight frown turned upside down and you noddied happily, “okay! see ya!” you waved enthusiastically and he waved back, sighing in content. “who’re you waving at?”

“my girlfriend?” they all stared at eren for like 5 seconds, then bursted out laughing at him, “oh man eren, you are too funny!”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

after dropping his friends off, eren sat outside your home, waiting for your arrival and decided to do something that’ll hopefully get into his friends head that he’s actually dating someone. he smirked at his phone, editing up his caption and nearly jumped hearing his car door open, seeing you in his hoodie and some cute grey shorts, “hey baby,” you kissed his cheek and saw his phone, “uhh why are you…?”

“you’ll see.”

[arachnoia]

fan favorite | miguel o'hara | part one here

in which your little side hobby is being a cam girl, except things get messy when you’re your boss’s fan favorite

pairing- miguel o’hara x fem! reader

tags- nsfw, masterbating, afab reader, idk how to make tags ! (perspective also changes from reader and miguel !)

—-

He couldn’t sleep for the rest of the night but instead stared at his wall after he jerked himself off to the thought of fucking you.

Or at least the streamer version.

His sheets are ripped again thanks to his talons which were currently sinking into his mattress.

“Carajo…”

Now he knows who the streamer he likes is, and he doesn’t like it. Or he at least thinks he knows. The feeling of talking to you now makes him cringe.

Should he fire you? It would feel too awkward.

Or maybe it’s just him being crazy from not sleeping. Miguel has a tendency to not sleep. He either is too into protecting the multiverse to sleep or he’s horny and watches specifically your past livestreams to get by.

What can he say? He’s consistent with it.

“Miguel!”

Lyla emerged from his watch, dancing around his bed frame as he groaned, “What?”

She frowned and rolled her eyes, “Get up. I’m surprised you’re in bed at this hour for once!”

Miguel rolled his eyes and got ready, turning his lights even dimmer since he didn’t get sleep and his eyes were already sensitive as it is.

He stopped for a minute and looked at himself in the mirror.

His hair was messier than usual, his chestnut curls blocking his face. His eyes looked dead inside and in general, he looked fucked up.

He was.

“Miguellllll!”

“Ya voy!”

---

You bit your lip in frustration.

Yeah, your cut was fully healed and you slept okay. But that was only after taking melatonin and some sleep tea.

If that were not the case, you’d be feeling how you are now; stressed and anxious.

You didn’t know how to react when he called you Hermosa. That was someone a certain viewer from your streams called you and the phrase was associated with them. They would send a lot of money, which you were fond of.

Or maybe you misheard. Then again, it was quite nerve-wracking to be so close to your hot-ass boss.

“Y/N!!”

You quit brushing your hair and went over to your living room where Lyla was standing over your watch, “How’re ya doin’?”

You smiled forcefully, “Just peachy…”

“Gosh, what happened?! You look messed up, Miguel looks even worse! But anyways, just came to see how things are!”

You furrowed your eyebrows at what she said and sighed, “No, I just have a lot of things on my mind and I don’t know about O’Hara but he probably has his own shit.”

Lyla nodded and smiled, “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

She looked over to your nightstand, where you just so happened to have a pink dildo that you used last night due to frustration. She furrowed her eyebrows, which you caught. You looked where she was looking and panicked.

“Hey, what’s tha-“

“I’ll see you at work, Lyla!! Bye!”

And before Lyla could even answer, you ran towards your watch to shut it off.

“Thank god…”

You looked over at your watch and saw the time which was 9.

You rolled your eyes and decided to skip today. Plus the secondhand embarrassment would be too much to bear.

___

Miguel frowned at his screens and looked over at the time, reading it to be 4.

“What the hell happened to Y/N? Have you seen her?”

He turned over to see Jessica Drew from below his platform.

“I, uh- don’t know. Why?”

She shrugged, “Dunno, just thought you’d know since you patched her up yesterday.”

All of a sudden she stopped and covered her mouth, “You don’t know, do you?!”

That question made his thoughts go all over the place. What didn’t he know? What happened? Did she know what he knew? Or rather what he thought he knew?

“Know what?”

Jessica rolled her eyes, “Y/N’s shy and young still. So I’m guessing yesterday was awkward for her,”

Oh…

“-Like y’know, since she got injured and stuff. Plus, I think she has a bit of a crush on you so don’t be as mean as you usually are if you see her tomorrow.”

Miguel frowned at Jessica and swung down, “I’m not mean.”

She snickered, “Sure, Miguel. Whatever you say- Hey, where are you going?”

Miguel turned around and pointed up to the platform, “You’re in charge. Lyla.”

“Yes sir!”

Jess gave him a surprised expression and frowned, glaring at him, “You still haven’t answered my question!”

“Don’t need to.”

---

Miguel felt a little sense of deja vu as he swung to your quarters. The sensation felt almost uncanny as he felt his stomach sink, “Shock…”

He hesitated as he climbed the fire emergency stairs from the outside of your building and slipped in from your open window.

And that’s where he heard it.

“F-Fuck Miguel!”

Then it went silent. You must have sensed something from her Spider senses. Miguel looked at the familiar flooring of all the live streams he saw, every detail of your living room engraved in his mind.

He turned his head to the sound of a door slightly opening, “Miguel..?”

You looked tired and breathless, only in your underwear and a tank top, your nipples poking through the thin fabric. He almost wanted to laugh. You were barely yelling out his name in pleasure and now you say it like you’re afraid of it.

“Yes?”

“Why are you here?”

“Why weren’t you at work? I know your healing abilities are fast.”

A smile crept on his lips as your quiet figure turned around. He felt his stomach doing cartwheels as he noticed you gripping something tightly. Something pink and curved.

“What’s that you’re holding?” Your reaction to his sentence alone made his cock almost twitch in excitement. Your lips slightly parted and looked away, “Nothing…”

He walked towards you, backing you into a wall, to see what you were holding a shot at it, holding a pink dildo before he knew it. Your face turned to one of horror and gasped, “Look-“

“I didn’t know you were into this. Y/L/N, I heard you.”

At this point, you two were only inches apart. He smirked as he could hear how fast your heartbeat went and how labored your breaths went.

“I- don’t have an explanation for that.”

“You don’t?”

He turned your face to look at him, towering over you and intimidating you. He began leaning towards your lips and noticed how you leaned towards closer to him before kissing him. If this wasn’t eerie, he didn’t know what was.

He started caressing your face, trying to be gentle before anything else until you took off your top and pinned him against the wall.

“Hermosa-”

You put your finger against his lips and motioned to his watch where he took off his suit. You kneeled down, looking up at him before smiling at his erect cock and starting kissing at his swollen tip, “I’ve always wanted to thank my number one supporter…”

“S-Shit. Just like that, baby…” He bit his lip and held back a moan. Your tongue grazed on his girth, driving him wild before your started pumping his cock. After teasing him a bit, you started taking him in by the tip slowly and bobbed your head to pleasure him.

He looked down to meet your eyes glazed with tears and gasped, “You’re so good, querida…Fuck-“

You smiled as you felt him twitch and let go only to place his cock between your tits. Miguel let out a groan as you started pumping out his cock again and releasing his load in your mouth.

Before you could even get up, Miguel lifted you up and pinned you against the wall again, where he ripped your panties off and felt his fingers through your wet folds, “Damn it…”

You let out a breathless moan and frowned, “My fucking god.”

He teased your folds with his cock, sliding it in slowly in you while you clawed at his muscular back, “M-Miguel, fuck!”

Miguel threw his head back from how tight you were, “You’re so fucking tight, hermosa. Just like that, mami.”

You cried out from the stretch as he inserted his whole length and held your leg up to his shoulder in order to thrust even harder, stuffing you full. You shut your eyes closed as the speed of his thrusts engulfed you in a state of euphoria. Like he’s been waiting to do this.

You looked up at him and chuckled darkly, out of breath, “Would you ever consider making a guest appearance one day?”

He let out an exasperated groan, “Maybe… it would be interesting.”

“You are a fan favorite anyways.”

—

masterlist

sol’s notes- i did not know how to end this and i have mixed feelings but lmk! also I typed this out, like yk the DRAFT AND I ACCIDENTALLY POSTED IT SO IM REALLY SORRY 🙏🏼

tags - @ashanomly @obi-mom-kenobi @tojisbabygworl @toaffes @celestia80s @thel0velykey190 @namorkawaiiwife @cheezit-luv3rr @neteyamoure @bammzyboomy @miyo-0oo @ihateuguys

[hydrasra]

Looking forward to it.

SYN: who are you? why are you suddenly so important? kafka will figure this out... with elio's help of course.

TAG: @serenity-loves-red @resident-cryptid @kytesse @nostxlgicrose @oxyotl @theaudacitiedmentose @crazydreamcat @the-dumber-scaramouche @aroaceanxietylemon

WARN: gn!reader, lowercase intended, stelle appreciation, swearing, ooc, those in bold could not be tagged

>>| |<<

"and you haven't felt that presence ever since?"

kafka leaned against the table behind her, arms crossed and smirking, "no, I haven't."

"do you think that the trailblazer is that important to that entity?"

kafka sighed, rolling her eyes, "the trailblazer is important to elios's script, blade."

"hm."

finally looking up from her phone screen, as the conversation finally registered on her brain, silver wolf raised a brow at kafka, "is that presence important? I felt it too, remember? it didn't bother as, whoever it is, helped us get the script done faster than anticipated. "

blade threw silver wolf a half-assed glare but she paid him no mind, as usual.

"I believe that we should look into whatever that was. I doubt it was a ghost or something," silver wolf said halfheartedly which earned her a surprised look from both blade and kafka.

"I think... I think you might be right, I'll have to talk to elio about this however," kafka slowly nodded in agreement, her hand now resting on her chin.

"you are seriously agreeing with her? she clearly did not mean that," blade said, a brow raised.

"whether she meant it or not, she suggested it and I think we should take a look."

"no! come on!" y/n yelled as their game suddenly froze.

"my pc is strong, don't do this to me, hoyoverse!" they yelled at their frozen screen that displayed dan heng nearly giving CPR to stelle, the main character they chose.

"and just at the best part too..." they grumbled, "damn.. just my luck."

they sighed and leaned against their desk, admiring dan heng's features, "wait... he's really pretty too.. he reminds me of xiao and kazuha..." they chuckled.

after a short while, they sighed, "let's restart the entire thing, I guess?" y/n said to no one in particular, just talking to themself, as per usual as, they got off their chair, got onto their knees and reached out for the power plug socket to turn everything off at once then back on but stopped when they heard dan heng speaking once again, "oh?"

"STELLE, LOOK OUT!" that was march.

was something going on in the cut scene?

they quickly stood up, though that made them knock their head against their desk while doing so, and, with a hand softly rubbing the area that got hit, they realised that their screen was entirely white as march's and dan heng's distorted voices could be heard.

there was a sudden buzzing sound in the air and the air felt warm. they looked around, thinking that their AC was acting up once again like it has been the past month but, to their surprise, the stupid thing was off.

"what the-" they got cut off as they were suddenly sucked into their computer's screen, "FUCK!"

and everything suddenly went quiet.

[ada7201]

hi ada! may I request something very similar to the "only girl in blue lock" request? the reader is a bit more closed off and keeps to herself- like rin. but she's not mean just a bit sarcastic, and she's friendly-- like not hard to approach. although the guys in blue lock might be crushing on her, she's only focused on one thing and one thing only, becoming a successful footballer. she has a good relationship with her teammates, joking around with them and all-- her skills are still extraordinary! you can totally ignore this if you'd like, no pressure pookie <3

hello! this sounds so cute, and im happy to do your request! here you go!! (๑ᴖ◡ᴖ๑)

my apologies if this was short, i didn’t know how to write it so that everyone could like her - and i didn’t really know how to write y/n as reserved, but i tried 🤍!

hope you like it ^ ^

a girl at blue lock? 𖦹 version 2

❥ blue lock x female reader

“THERE’S NO WAY SHE’S BETTER THAN ME!!” “calm down.” “she probably is…” “SHUT UP!” “i hope she’s cute!” “you think she’d be into me?” “how was a girl even let into blue lock?”

wow. that’s a lot of voices…

as you walked into the room - room Z? you were greeted by the voice of way too many people.

“hello! you’re the girl everybody’s talking about, right!” another voice would ask from behind you, a sickeningly polite smile on his face.

oh, it’s that boy who decided to talk back to Ego.

“mhm.” you respond with a hum, walking past him with your eyes focused on the floor. he seems a bit too… charming. did he think he was going to win you over?

you found yourself a nice corner - near lockers or something? and wow, that’s a really muscular guy.

you stayed quiet, choosing not to interact with him either.

“hello.” he said, looking down to you.

wow. just great.

“hello,” you smile politely, glancing at him briefly before shuffling through your bag again.

that bug eyed bowl cut freak was nice enough to let you bring it, so you guessed that you should be grateful.

“HEY!!” a voice shrieked out from behind you. another? and has he had any water today? why is his voice so dry?

“hm?” you turn around - eyes widening as a figure rushed towards you.

what’s with that grin on his face?

“SHOW ME WHAT YOU’VE GOT!” he shouts, before crashing straight into you.

you and the sharp toothed boy crashed straight into the muscular man with a loud “thud”

“ouch-“ you were cut off by the loud boy’s hand straight on your mouth as he stood up, towering over you.

does he not have any manners? what’s his deal?

“are you alright?” the orange haired male asks from behind you, placing a gentle hand on your back. “i’m sorry about - him.” he’d sigh.

“mhm… yeah.” you groan, shuffling away from the two boys. is this how it’s going to be like for the rest of… blue lock? yeah, that’s what it’s called.

he stood up, holding a hand out for you to take aswell. you gently held his hand, standing up. you turned your head to the weird teeth boy, sending a soft glare his way before looking back up at the muscular man.

“thank you.” you mumble, letting go of his larger hand.

the whole tag game went by pretty fast, with most of them avoiding you - why?

it’s not like your weak. you could argue that you were probably the best player in the room.

were they trying to be gentlemanly? how pathetic.

the evening soon came, and you were not very pleased to hear that you had to share - yes, share - the bathrooms with the rest of the team.

how wonderful.

“y/n! you getting into the shower yet?” a bald headed boy - no, buzz cut - sang from behind you.

“no, i’m gonna escape from blue lock - of course i’m getting into the shower.” you scoff, side eyeing the boy before looking back to your bag - making sure you’ve got everything.

“without me-“ he was cut off by a slap to the back of his head from - Chigiri?

“thank you.” you smile softly the red haired boy, picking your bag up. it seemed that he was also heading for the showers.

he didn’t look like the pervert type, so maybe it’ll be fine. his skin is pretty clear, too. he reminds you a lot of a girl from your school.

“no problem. you mind if i join you?” he asks simply. was he… avoiding eye contact?

“i don’t mind.” you say, rather quietly.

he nods in response, nodding towards the entrance to the bathroom. the two of you started walking, both staying quiet.

each game with team Z was exciting, and with you being the great player you are, it’s no surprise how you guys made it that far.

“y/n right?” a little voice said from behind you.

you were stood in the cafeteria, munching on some food that you have been basically dying for. who was that boy, again? oh. Niko, you think.

“yup.” you say quietly, before taking another spoonful of the rice in front on you. it wasn’t extremely delicious, but you could live with it.

“you’re a good player.” he says in a soft voice, walking towards you. “i watched some of your matches.” he adds, sitting down next to you.

“oh, thanks.” you respond, glancing over to him.

“y/nnnn!” Bachira giggled from the entrance, followed by Isagi and Kunigami who walked behind him.

“oh, hello.” you say quietly, looking back at the three boys who just arrived before looking back at your meal.

Niko looked over to Isagi, his eyes narrowing slightly. he was so lucky - he got to be on a team with a pretty, and talented, girl like you. how dare he.

the three boys appeared behind you, Kunigami placing a hand on the top of your head. Bachira looked down at your food, before looking at your eyes.

as soon as you blinked, he swiped your food and took a few spoonfuls.

“ah- hey!” you exclaimed, eyebrows furrowing as you glared up at the dual haired male.

Kunigami chuckled, along with Isagi. “i can give you my food, if you want?” the orange haired boy offered, ruffling you hair a little.

“no, thank you.” you say softly, followed by a sigh. “i’m probably gonna head to the showers anyways.” you add, getting out of your seat. “bye everyone.” you wave them goodbye, before making your way towards the showers. Chigiri had promised to share some of his hair and skin products with you, if you shared your face masks with him.

so, that’s exactly what the two of you did! you were sat on the bathroom counter, smiling happily to yourself as you placed the face mask onto your face - Chigiri’s slim hands reached out, helping you smooth it out as he tried not to smile, causing the face mask he was wearing to crinkle. but it was just so hard - you’re so cute!

the two of you had a nice time, until Bachira decided to ruin it by running in, graciously wearing a towel - that was about to slip.

that wasn’t a very fun experience, you would say.

the night was just like any other, with Raichi clinging onto you in his sleep - mumbling curses and sometimes even managing to hit you. how did he do that… while sleeping? at least he was nice enough to apologise in the morning when he woke up.

“i’m- sorry.” he grunts, folding his arms as a blush covered his cheeks.

he wouldn’t ever admit it, but it was actually kind of nice to wake up next to a pretty girl, hugging her no less.

during the second selection, it was an understatement to say your team missed you.

couldn’t say the same about you, though - you trained hard, and managed to be one of the first to get out - go you!

until you saw him - Itoshi Rin.

you couldn’t lie, he’s real hot. but you have a goal - to be the best striker in the world!

Ego allowed you to join up with Rin, Tokimitsu, and someone called Aryu who would not stop talking to you. something about being beautiful?

you couldn’t help but feel your cheeks growing warmer at his compliments.

Tokimitsu would mumble apologies every second, saying things like “im sorry for being in your presence, y/n” “i don’t deserve to breathe around such a pretty girl” he was quite a cute guy, you wish that he would have a little more self confidence.

and there was Rin - he was a bit like you, so the two of you didn’t talk to each other much. not like you wanted to, anyways.

your only goal is to become the best.

“you’re a good player, y/n.” Rin would compliment shyly, a faint blush dusting his cheeks.

“thank you.” you respond politely, cheeks growing warmer - at this point, you think your cheeks will explode from how many compliments you’ve gotten!

[profound-bouquetbird]

Hi yes,i completely understand as to why someone might feel uncomfortable writing a fic abt jimmy in a romantic aspect,which is exactly why i asked for angst. ( I'm a sucker for angst )

I was asking for a scenario where the reader and jimmy had already been in an established relationship with Jimmy wayy prior than boarding on the tulpar, i was wondering that the reader has positive views on jimmy but after finding out what he did to anya the reader completely breaks down and loses every ounce of love/compassion/respect for jimmy. And how curly/swansea and daisuke would try to comfort the reader.

Jimmy tries to convince the reader to give him another chance but the reader rips him a new one,like just jimmy being pathetic and miserable like he deserves to be.

I've been sent requests and messages that everyone can't wait for this fic, now I'm scared I'm going to disappoint 😔

BUT WHO CARES, I'M STILL WRITING IT, RAAAHHHH 🦅💥💥🦅🦅🦅💥💥💥

Edit: I'm done with writing it and right as I was about to post it, I realized that I forgot to put the actual comfort in the fict... Yeahh....

Warnings: mentions/hinting of sexual assault, Daisuke and the reader having a parent/son relationship, mentions of paper cuts, mentions of guns, drug overdose, murder, blood, hurt/no comfort, not proofread

I looked at Jimmy in absolute horror. No tears, no sobbing, nothing left my lips. There was only one feeling remaining though...

Disgust.

He called out my name, and I couldn't stop the shiver of fear that rushed through me.

"Please... Let me explain."

Three days before boarding ᯓ★

"One year?!" I gasped out in disbelief, eyes widening in shock at the news my boyfriend just dropped. One year out in space? Why would he even accept that offer?!

"I know, I know... But we need the money." He breathed out, not looking so pleased with the outcome either.

I sighed, knowing that he was right. I relaxed back onto the couch, crossing my arms in disappointment.

One year without him here with me? No contact at all? I barely survived his last shipment, and that only lasted three months, and now I had to wait a year? they were asking too much. What do they even ship out?

"... I'm sorry." He breathed out, and his expression only made me feel worse.

"You don't have to apologize... It's your job." I sighed, a small smile on my face to reassure him. Sure, it would be a loonnngg year for me, but it was for the money, for our future... for us.

"I'll go start dinner for us... Okay?" He gave me a sad smile, walking over to me and resting a gentle hand on the back of my head, placing a light kiss to my temple as he made his way towards the kitchen.

I smirked, watching him walk off with a playful roll of my eyes.

"And by that I'm guessing you're ordering pizza?" I teased, causing him to let out a quick laugh before disappearing into the kitchen.

With him gone, I was now alone with my thoughts.

I mean- a whole year away from Earth? That's sure to leave some impact on both me and him.

... My saddened expression slowly started to fade as a thought crossed my mind.

What if I applied for the job with him?

A smile grew on my face, but I couldn't tell him now, it should be a surprise! Yes! Imagine his joy when he finds out I get to tag along with him, and for a whole year at that!

Oh, the overjoyed look on his face-

"You want plain peperoni again or do you want to switch it up for tonight?" I jumped a bit; my thoughts being interrupted as Jimmy yelled from the kitchen.

"Uh- Yeah! A peperoni will do!" I yelled back, smiling to myself. Maybe I should apply after dinner.

One week before boarding ᯓ★

I giggled to myself quietly as I watched Jimmy pack his bags. He always liked to pack early, says he has time to check everything and pack anything that's missing.

"Jimmy..." I dragged out his name, trying to contain my excited expression as I watched him.

"Yes, Y/n? I'm busy, I wouldn't want to miss anything." He mumbled out, rummaging through his things. My smile felt slightly, but I decided to shake that uneasy feeling away. He was just stressed.

"I've got some exciting news." I stated, my smile and excitement returning as he peaked at me over his shoulder and gave me a confused glance, "I applied as a Pony express nurse and... I got in!" I almost squeaked out in excitement, but... my excitement died down when he didn't return it.

He stayed in silence for a little while, still looking over his shoulder but not looking at me.

"... Why would you do that?" He asked me, his voice cold as he still didn't look at me. Did I... do something wrong?

"Well... I'm sure that us being apart would make both your journey and my stay would feel way longer than it was supposed to, so... I thought going with you would make both of our stays fly by faster." I stated sheepishly, now unsure of myself. I looked down at my hands, feeling an intense sense of guilt wash over me as the two of us stayed in silence.

I heard him sigh and his clothes ruffle, soft footsteps walking towards me and soon enough his arms were wrapped around me in a warm embrace.

"I'm sorry I reacted like that... I just didn't want you to get hurt." He mumbled into my hair, one of his hands resting on my lower back while the other ran through my hair.

Every ounce of dread faded away with those simple words, hugging him back with a smile on my face.

"... I should've told you earlier, I'm sorry too." I mumbled back. I felt his grip get a bit tighter, which made me feel comforted. He mumbled something underneath his breath that I couldn't comprehend, but I didn't question it.

Two months before the crash ᯓ★

Life on the ship was... Weird. I mean, I knew I was away from Earth, but it felt like we didn't even take off, which I guess is better than floating around.

Everyone on the ship was nice as well. Anya, my coworker was really sweet and really competitive when it came to boardgames, but she's been oddly quiet around my boyfriend, Jimmy... maybe because she found out he was my boyfriend she didn't want to seem like she was going to steal him away from me, which I find very sweet.

Daisuke was interesting. He was a bit nervous for the first few days, but I couldn't really do anything since he didn't really want to talk to anyone. He quickly opened up to us though, and it's always interesting to hear him talk, he does say some weird stuff sometimes though.

Swansea was the same as boarding day, acting very serious and only talking about work, but I sometimes get to hear a little about his past. He has a wife and two kids! How nice.

Curly was a nice captain, I don't see him nor talk to him often, but the times that I did he was nice.

And of course there was my boyfriend, Jimmy. He focuses on his work a lot, which is good don't get me wrong! But I sometimes want him to spend time with me or even visit me in the medical bay...

All of the relationships to the side, work wasn't really that hard. Everyone made sure to take care of themselves, Daisuke got hurt every once in a while, but even he knew not to waste supplies over something as little as a paper cut (I still sneak him my own band-aids every once in a while, though).

---

I smiled to myself as I read through the reports, Anya and I split the 'interrogation' part of the psych test, I was the one to deal with Daisuke since he was the only one to actually drag out the psych test with his little stories. Anya complained to me about it, so I offered to take the test instead of her.

I sat in the room with the young intern, finding myself actually interested in his stories. He somehow managed to find a story with every question that I asked... And when he didn't have an opportunity to rant about a story, he just extended his answer.

He was just done with his rant about how he managed to hit his pinkie toe when he was trying to pass a screwdriver to Swansea, hilarious really.

"Hm..." I hummed a bit, tapping my bottom lip with my pen as I inspected the questions. "... How would you say your relationships with the crewmembers are?" I read off the question, ticking it off the list for myself.

"Awh, absolutely great!" He began excitedly, and just as I thought he was going to leave it at that, he continued.

"Curly is an awesome captain! Sure, I don't see him often, but he's so cool! He always knows how to fix a problem.

Anya is sweet too, but I don't see her as often like I do you. While we're on the topic of you, you've also been pretty awesome, you didn't have to give me your band-aids though.

Swansea is rude, but he can be cool from time to time. I'm still proud that I managed to make him laugh the other day with one of my jokes. But he can tone it down on the yelling sometimes...

Jimmy is also pretty cool! Being a co-pilot must be really hard, and I appreciate that he's in the cockpit most of the time to make sure we don't crash. But he could come out every once in a while... Last time I saw him was a day or two ago when he visited Anya in the medbay though." My smile fell at that small comment, my writing stopping abruptly as I stared down at my notes for a moment.

Jimmy visited Anya. Why wouldn't he come to visit me? I mean- maybe he walked into the medbay to look for me and I wasn't there, even then why would he ask Anya where I was or at least wait for me to come back. So why did he leave the cockpit and not come to visit me first. I'm his damn partner!

Daisuke noticed my silence, his own happy expression turning awkward and on edge.

"Uh... Did I say something wrong?" He asked sheepishly, almost sinking into his seat while clutching the edges of his seat awkwardly.

"Oh... No, Daisuke. Don't worry, I just got lost in thought." I smiled warmly towards him. That small act made him relax. Jimmy is not important currently; I'll talk to him after the psych eval with Daisuke.

I looked back at the paper to see the rest of the questions, only to be surprised that we were done with the last one.

"Looks like we're done here." I sighed, setting down the papers on the small table. Daisuke let out an overexaggerated sigh of relief, slumping in his seat.

"Ugh, finally!" He chuckled, "I thought the questions were never gonna end!"

I chuckled at his antics, standing up from my seat and picking up the papers once more.

"I suggest you get back to work, don't want Swansea worrying now, do we?" I chuckled, opening the door and waiting for him to walk out.

"No! That's even worse! Please continue with the questions!" He whined, getting up and walking out despite his words, although with a bit of a slump.

I walked out right after him, closing the door right after walking out.

"Good luck." I sighed, watching him walk away to where Swansea supposedly was.

"You, too!" He yelled back, smiling brightly, waving goodbye while turning the corner.

I exhaled through my nose, making my way towards the medbay. You know what? I don't have time to argue with him right now about him visiting Anya, he always thinks he's in the right, so the argument won't really lead to anything.

A week before the crash ᯓ★

Anya looked... on edge recently.

She has been jumpier than before... Now that I think about it, I don't remember her being jumpy in the first week.

I did ask her if something was wrong and that she could talk to me if needed, but she just brushed me off and told me that she was fine. People deal with their problems in different ways, and I get that, but... I'm worried about her.

Right now, I was sitting on the kitchen counter, poking at my food a bit as I was lost in thought.

My thoughts were interrupted by footsteps. I turned around only to spot captain Curly. I smiled at the man, turning fully to greet him.

"Morning, captain." I smiled, "Came for some breakfast?" I asked, as if it wasn't already obvious. The man gave me a tired smile and walked to the kitchen, grabbing the already prepared meal like I had. Anya was kind enough to make us a plate each because I slept in and Curly doesn't come out of the cockpit often, same as Jimmy.

"Yup." He tiredly answered my question, sitting down beside me as he began eating. I observed his tired manors for a couple of seconds, giving him a sympathetic look.

"Need a nap, Curly?" I asked him, taking a bite of my own food as I waited for his response.

"Desperately, but it's not like I can." He sighed, the small smile on his face turning into a small frown. I furrowed my brows at his words.

"How so? Jimmy is there to take over when you're too tired, right?" I questioned, setting down my fork. He furrowed his brows, closing his eyes for a moment. He looked like he had been caught in a lie.

"It's not that... simple." He dragged out his words, which only made me even more confused.

"What do you mean?" I cautiously asked, eying him suspiciously. He exhaled through his nose, setting down his fork as well as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"He just... doesn't look like he's in the right place to maneuver the ship properly." He said, trying to end the conversation with that. But I didn't want to back out that easily.

"He's been in that cockpit almost 24/7 since we boarded. I don't understand how he couldn't control the ship properly." I tried to argue, getting a bit agitated. Why would he think my boyfriend was incompetent? He can take responsibility.

"Just... leave it to me, okay?" He sighed, obviously not wanting to argue, and I respect that.

"... Alright, captain. I trust you." I backed out, standing up to wash my dishes.

"Leave the dishes to me." Curly spoke up, standing up himself to wash his own dish, grabbing mine before I could protest. I smiled, mumbling a quick thank you before making my way towards the medbay.

Zero days before the crash ᯓ★

I was patching up another one of Daisuke's paper cuts. He claims that he doesn't know how to use a band-aid correctly, but I think he just wants to rant to me.

"I wonder what I'm missing back on earth..." He sighed after finishing his long rant about some hard level that he barely passed on his Gameboy.

"You'll be so far back on the trends." I chuckled, patting his paper cut to convince him that it was on correctly.

"Don't you worry about me; I'll easily catch up." He tried to flex his muscles for the dramatic effect. I rolled my eyes at that, patting his shoulder and standing up.

"Well, your injury is taken care of, you can head back to work-" I was interrupted by blaring red lights and alarms.

my heart dropped at that, looking around the room as if I was going to find the source. I looked back towards Daisuke to see his panicked expression.

"Stay here, I'll go look to see what's wrong-"

"Are you insane!? Don't go out, please!" Daisuke pleaded, clinging onto my uniform sleeve to make me stay. My heart ached at his desperate please.

But, then again, it could just be a fake alarm... But that also doesn't mean I should leave him alone-

The whole ship started to shake; the alarms started to blare more loudly and so did Daisuke.

He kept repeating "Oh my god!" and "Please, no!"

I clung to him tightly, covering his head as a sort of instinct as I pulled us down onto the floor. The things on the desk we were next to started to fall onto us and I covered Daisuke from everything. Everything moved and trashed around in the medbay and the only thing I could do is cling to him.

What was going on?

Two months after the crash ᯓ★

I sat next to Jimmy, trying to comfort him by resting my head on his shoulder and slowly petting the back of his hand with my thumb. But he was still tense, his expression looking permanently sour.

"... Talk to me, Jimmy. Please..." I tried to get him to open up. I heard him scoff and moments later he shoved me off of him.

"Fuck off, leave me alone." He grumbled, standing up and storming off. I didn't chase after him.

I let out a long exhale, pinching the bridge of my nose and resting my elbows on my knees. I understood why he would be on edge, I mean, one of his closest friends literally drove the ship into an asteroid, who wouldn't be upset?

But he could at least talk to me about it, I'm his partner after all.

"Are you okay?" I heard a soft voice behind me. I turned around to spot Anya. I put up a fake smile to comfort her though.

"I'm okay, Anya, really." I breathed out, straightening up my posture to mimic a confident look, although failing.

She gave me a pitiful look, taking a seat in the armchair next to me.

"... How have you been holding up?" I asked her after a couple of moments of silence. She was quiet for a little while, making me think it wasn't as well as I previously presumed. I mean- the ship crashed, and Curly is basically lacking skin and limbs but... she strong... Gosh, now I sound like a piece of shit when I really think about it.

"Poorly, I can't..." She closed her eyes, resting her head on the back of the couch. It felt like she was keeping something from me.

"... Nevermind." She muttered, standing up to walk away. I opened my mouth to call out to her, for her to tell me what she wanted, but I held back. Maybe it was better if I didn't know.

Four months after the crash ᯓ★

Everything and on the ship felt eerie.

Daisuke was quieter, which absolutely broke my heart. Anya looked weaker, she couldn't even glance towards Curly or his general direction. Swansea was getting absolutely drunk out of his mind on mouthwash. And Jimmy was... distant.

How could Curly even do this? The last time I talked to him he seemed completely fine, why would he change up so suddenly?

I heard a rough voice call out my name, I turned quickly to spot Swansea.

"Yes?" I hummed. The old man grabbed my forearm roughly.

"We need to talk." He stated, dragging me away from everyone in the main area. Jimmy gave the two of us a glare but stayed in his spot.

After the two of us were out of eyesight and earshot, Swansea let go of me. I was quick to massage the spot he grabbed, giving him a glare.

"There was no need to drag me." I grumbled. Swansea ignored my words and began to talk.

"I already talked to Anya about this beforehand, so this is mostly me telling you the plan." He pointed an accusing finger at me. I stayed quiet, waiting for him to begin talking as I massaged the spot he grabbed.

"There is only on cryogen pod left. And Anya and I agreed to give it to Daisuke." He stated. I gave him a look of confusion.

"I thought the room to the cryogen pods was completely blocked off by foam...?" I muttered in confusion. Why would he lie about something like that?

"I said that because Jimmy would've made it a big deal and it would've been a damn free for all in here." I was offended by his words, giving him a look of disbelief as I took a step back.

"Jimmy? Why would he do that?" I grumbled, making sure to keep my voice quiet. I didn't want him to hear, how offended and utterly hurt he would be if he heard Swansea's accusations.

"He- Never mind..." He gave up on an explanation, and I decided to not push it further. "What I'm trying to say is... We're saving the last pod for Daisuke." He said and I didn't protest, giving him a nod of approval and letting out a sigh of relief.

"Alright... but I should really tell Jimmy tha-"

"One word to him about this and you're dead." He grunted, pointing a finger to my chest before storming off.

I lightly massaged the area where he poked me, watching him walk away with a frown and furrowed brows as I composed myself in silence.

Why are they so against telling Jimmy, their now captain, about the cryogen pod? I don't understand...

---

I was panicking.

Daisuke and Jimmy were nowhere to be seen, Swansea also, and Anya had locked herself in the medicalbay.

"Anya, please open the door, talk to me!" I yelled at the door, my voice shaky and my breaths quick as I leaned against the door, staring at it like I was going to pass through it.

She called my name weakly, making me even more anxious than before.

"I'm... I'm so sorry." She sounded like she was crying, which only made my worries worsen.

"Sorry? You- you don't have anything to be sorry for, Anya. Please open the door for me." I laughed awkwardly, like when you're caught sneaking out by your parents and are trying to make up an excuse.

"Jimmy... he..." Her voice was weak, and the mention of my boyfriend's name made me swallow thickly, afraid of what she would say.

"He what, Anya, please... Say something." I whispered, caressing the door, pretending like I was comforting her.

"I didn't want to... He made me." She called out my name, "He forced me- I'm sorry, I really am..."

I was confused.

"Forced you? Anya, please unlock the door and we'll talk, I won't be mad. Whatever you say I'll understand." I tried talking to her, but she became unresponsive. It stayed like that for a little while before I began banging on her door.

"Anya? Anya please respond-" My blood ran cold as I heard an echoing scream come from within, but it wasn't Anya's... No... Please-

Before I could think of anything else, I felt a sharp pain on the back of my head, and everything went black.

One hour until Judgement ᯓ★

My eyes fluttered open, my breathing slow as I tried to remember what happened. I tried moving but I realized I was tied down onto something.

I blinked rapidly to get used to the new lighting, looking around to see where I was. I was in the common area, living room as Daisuke called it.

Speaking of him, where was he? I remember hearing something... He screamed, he got hurt

I squinted as I looked around rapidly, where was everyone?

"Daisuke? Anya? Jimmy? Swansea? Anyone! Can anyone hear me?!" I yelled, my voice raspy and my head throbbing. It was hard to adjust to the red lighting, but once it did, I tried looking for clues.

"Can anyone hear..." My voice trailed off as I spotted someone lying on the ground, it was heard to see who it was. I squinted and tried to focus.

"Daisuke?" I questioned, but the boy didn't budge.

"Daisuke! Don't fuck with me! Are you alright?" I yelled at him, tugging at my restraints. His lack of a response left me frustrated. I groaned, trashing around to try and loosen up the ropes a bit. Who would even tie me up in the first place?

I managed to loosen up the knots, finding them and untying them in the process. Whoever did tie me up sure didn't pay attention in whatever knot tying class they took.

I sat up straight, looking down to see I was tied up on the coffee table. I stretched a bit, finding the silence awful, but I continued.

I walked towards the laying boy cautiously, my eyes adjusting the closer I got and... Oh... Oh god-

"Daisuke..." I breathed out, eyes wide in horror as I stared at the interns split face.

I quickly ran towards him, crouching down as I didn't want to touch him, feeling like my filthy hands would ruin him.

"What... how-" Tears welled up in my eyes as I stared at the lifeless body of the intern. I looked back to where I was tied up, jumping and feeling petrified as I saw Swansea's limp body tied up in a chair, how had I not noticed him before?

I switched my gaze between the young intern and the older mechanic, not sure what to do. Is there even anything I can do? Daisuke's skull is literally split open and, by the looks of it, Swansea has two bullets in his head.

I stood up, legs shaking as I walked back, looking down the hall hesitantly and into the medical bay.

I slapped my hand to my mouth as I saw Anya, lifeless with blood seeping from her mouth from what I could see. Quiet sobs left my lips as I tried not falling to the ground. There was only one person who could've done this...

But... Jimmy would never do such a thing! Yes, he may seem a little cold and distant at times but that doesn't mean he's a murderer! He's my boyfriend, he's... he's supposed to be the good guy...

Who else could have done that though? What else could've done that? I looked back at Daisuke.

His head was open, I stated that multiple times... But with what? A pipe couldn't have done that, and the axe was in Swansea's care... Then that would explain him being tied up in a chair.

The more I thought about it, the more it made sense.

The harsh reaction I had when I told him I got the job, Anya's usual attitude falling when he was around, looking scared and over all staying quiet... Her words. It all made sense

Not only did he go on a killing spree, but he cheated, he forced himself onto Anya, he traumatized her. He didn't kill her, she killed herself because of him, and that was far worse.

The love I previously had for him seemed to just disappear at that moment, being replaced with guilt, anger.

I heard shuffling, my head snapping to see him.

I looked at Jimmy in absolute horror. No tears, no sobbing, nothing left my lips. There was only one feeling remaining though...

Disgust.

He called out my name, and I couldn't stop the shiver of fear that rushed through me.

"Please... Let me explain."

"Explain what?" I questioned, voice barely audible.

He opened his mouth to speak, but he stuttered, not knowing how to even start his sentence. Pathetic.

"I... I had to! Anya fucking killed herself because of a stupid depressive episode she had! Daisuke got injured in the vents while trying to save her, I tried to save him too, but he was badly injured and Swansea fucking killed him! I had to shoot Swansea in self-defense because he wanted to kill both of us. He tied you up and wanted to kill me because he wanted the cryogen pod all to himself! That was his plan all along! He wanted to leave all of us for dead." His excuses only made me hate him more.

Anya killing herself because of an episode? Swansea killing Daisuke because there was no hope? Him shooting Swansea in self-defense? His story had shitty plot holes, and even I could see that with the two minutes I had to look around.

"..." I stayed quiet, just staring at him in disbelief that he could make up such a statement. How many excuses and lies did he tell me while we were dating?

"... Baby, please-"

"Don't call me that." I hissed, cutting him off mid-sentence, I didn't want to hear any more excuses, any more pleas, nothing. "I'm done." He stared at me in confusion, but I could see his usual irritation growing.

"Done with what?" He hissed back, voice lower, brows knitting together in irritation.

"I'm done with you." I grumbled. I watched him as his grip on the gun got tighter. "I'm done with dealing with your temper tantrums, I'm done with being patient, I'm done with listening to your every order, and I'm done with your cheating."

"Cheating? What are you talking about-"

"I don't want to listen to your annoying voice anymore, Jimmy. I have tried time and time again to ignore your flaws, I tried to see the best in you, but I can't anymore." My heart was beating in my ears. From fear? From anger? I couldn't tell. "All this time while I was on the Tulpar- No, while I've been dating you, you have shown that you don't care about me, and I don't even know why I decided to stay with you for this long."

I could hear his angered breathing even from this far away, which made my fears worsen, but at this point I'd rather be shot than survive.

"Shoot me. I'd rather be dead than carry the burden that I chose to be with you." I mumbled, my voice quieter now as I gave him a challenging look.

The two of us were consumed by silence once more, the sparks of faulty wiring and his intense breathing giving me a sense of anticipation.

I watched him as he raised the gun, a look that I could only describe as disappointment resting on his face.

"You don't understand." He grumbled, the gun aimed at my head. I only glared at him, daring him to pull the trigger. "And I know you never will."

With that, I watched him pull the trigger the last thing I heard was a loud bang before my body hit the floor.

[axcel-lucci]

I was cooking (literally) 🤭

Trafalgar Law x fem!reader.

(Angst?)

@the-fluff-piece @sailor-cosmic-horror (idk what blog to tag 😭)

Part 1 is here

"Fuuuuuckkk" (y/n) groaned as Bepo tilted his head slightly.

"What's wrong, (y/n)...?" He asked cutely

"Ah... it's nothing... but fuck- my side hurts..." she laid back down with a grunt, "everything hurts..."

"A-ah?! I should call captain!"

"No-!" She yelled back, "I mean... no... it's not that kind of pain... well I mean it is kinda painful physically, but... not the pain I'm complaining about..." she sighed deeply.

Bepo merely hummed and sat beside her, "when you told captain how you felt and passed out... he panicked. I don't think I've ever seen him so panicked and stressed like that before." He admitted, "and when I asked him why he was like that, there was no clear answer... like he changes his story every time I ask a question. And once you were better he just... stormed out. It's weird... he'd usually check on his patient's condition before leaving..."

"O-oh..." she mumbled.

'I messed up this time... Huh? Do I talk to him? He might be mad or weirded out because of my confession... if only I didn't tell him all those things! I thought I was gonna die! Goddamit!!' She thought before frowning.

"Uh... you need to rest, okay? I'll check on captain first, then I'll come back to you..." Bepo said as he left

She just sighed deeply, "I need to make this right. If I just kept it a secret to the grave... to be fair, he would never let his crew die on him... no one really died in his hands, unless for enemies." She muttered.

A few hours later, she didn't realize she had drifted off to sleep. Only to be woken up by a warm hand softly clearing the hair away from her face.

Her eyes slowly opened before groaning, "again with the fucking light."

A deep chuckle echoed beside her, one that was highly recognizable by the human ears.

"C-captain?!" She gasped as she looked at him standing over her.

"How are you feeling? Sorry I stormed out like that... I just had to deal with some affairs of the sub. It was kinda damaged from the battle. Though I had Bepo check your vitals. I guess he forgot to do that..." he explains as he adjusts the tube that gives her some IV.

"A-ah..." she sighed before humming, "hey... captain. Can I ask you something?"

"Hm? Sure" he muttered as he scribbled down the clipboard.

She stayed quiet for a few moments, thinking of what to say; "remember what I said...? Before blacking out...?"

Law paused for a bit before sighing and nodded, "yeah... I... I do..." he muttered before placing down the clipboard and pen, "how... how long?"

"What...?"

"For how long have you felt this...?"

Her throat starts to dry and close up as she looked away, "quite a while now..."

"I need the exact date."

She took a deep breath, "I think... a year and a half... I'm not too sure though."

"So... you kept this to yourself... for a year a half...? Why didn't you tell me sooner?" He muttered, he was hurt. Obviously. He knows why, but doesn't want to admit it.

She sighed deeply once more, "because I know you wouldn't feel the same about me..."

Law snapped his head to look at her in such a shocked manner. His wide eyes and a slight frown.

She didn't see it but it was fairly obvious.

"What do you mean...?"

"Cut me some slack, captain. The crew knows your stance on relationships... you just don't do them." (Y/n) muttered, her words getting choked on her throat, making it hard to speak. Her vision blurring with tears.

Law could only look at her with clear confusion and shock, "look... don't trust everything the crew says. Most of it is just rumour anyways." He grumbled a bit before holding her hand, "look. I didn't mean to make it seem like that, but in reality... I... I like you too... I just... didn't know you felt the same..."

She finally looked at him with tear filled eyes before sniffling, "really...?"

"Yes, really" he smiled softly before bringing her hand up for him to kiss, "when you get better, I'll take you out... what do you say?"

"Oh captain..."

"Law... just call me by my name now"

"Law... yes... please"

[lliminall]

carino

[giorno giovanna/reader]

word count: 6.9k

tags: fem reader, NSFW (minors do not interact), giorno being smitten with you, fingering, teasing, giorno is older than you by about 10 years, sappy sweet sex for the birthday boy. giorno is charming but he’s also a bit of an intense weirdo and I wish we would talk about that more

It occurs to you, as your shoulder is clipped for the third time this night and you almost spill your drink again, that you should learn to get more comfortable with saying the word no.

No, Chiara, I don’t want to go clubbing with you tonight. No, I’m tired and I’ve got work in the morning and I’m really not that thrilled at the thought of spending my Sunday night surrounded by people several tax brackets above me.

Ah, but as your drink sloshes in your glass and you bite back a sharp fuck, Chiara leans against you and laughs wholeheartedly, and you remember why you can’t ever seem to deny her anything. For all the trouble she gets you into, she’s your friend.

And she’s got a credit card with her dad’s name on it that she whips out every time she drags you to these upscale venues. That certainly helps.

“God, your clumsy tonight,” she laughs. “I told you not to wear those shoes.”

“What, and ruin this outfit with my sneakers?” you say, gesturing to your dress and heels. Around you people mingle and dance, wearing clothes from brands you see in fashion magazines. And here you are among them, in your bargain rack best.

“True,” Chiara concedes. “Well. At least you look pretty.”

Before you can thank her, her eyes blow wide and her shoulders go rigid as she catches sight of something behind you.

“Oh, god,” she says with dread, and you follow her line of sight to see none other than her father, seated at a table on the balcony overlooking the floor. She gasps.

“Oh, god,” she says, with even more dread, as her father catches sight of her and waves her over. She whips around to face you.

“Shit. I didn’t know he was going to be here,” she whispers.

“I mean, I guess old men are allowed to have fun, too,” you tease.

“No,” she hisses. “That’s not what he’s here for. Don’t you see who he’s sitting with?”

You peer over her shoulder to look at his table again. Through the crowd you can just make out bits and pieces of men in fine suits, a man in a bright red hat, and…someone else. Someone who certainly stands out from the rest with his long blonde curls and the low cut of his pink suit. The set of his shoulders and the hard line of his gaze as he converses with the man in the hat communicates clearly that he is someone important. Someone who’s used to being treated as important.

“The blonde?” you ask.

“The blonde?” Chiara repeats, incredulous. “The blonde? You don’t know who that is?”

You tilt your head at her. “Uhm, should I?”

She stares at you for a moment, thinking.

“Right,” she says. “I forget that you’re not…well. I guess you wouldn’t know. Just, uh, be polite. Really polite. Like you’re talking to the president.”

She takes your hand and begins to tug you to the stairs.

“Sorry, what?” you hiss. “Who’s up there?”

“It doesn’t matter,” she says quickly. “Don’t worry about it, we’ll just go up and say hi to my dad and leave.”

“Don’t worry about it?” you argue as she drags you up the stairs. “You can’t make a huge deal out of it and then tell me not to-“ your voice trails off as you realize you’re coming within earshot of the table, and Chiara’s face breaks into a grin as her father waves the both of you over.

“Ah, mia principessa,” he greets her as she leans over his chair to kiss his cheek. “How fortunate to see you here. You never visit your poor father these days.”

“Papá, I told you I’ve been busy,” Chiara groans.

Her father says your name warmly, and offers his hand for you to take. In the few times you’ve met him, Signore Alessi has only ever been kind to you. “A pleasure to see you, as always. I trust you’re keeping my daughter in line?”

“Trying to,” you say, letting him clasp your hand in his. “You know how it goes.”

“Indeed I do,” he says, and motions to two men who immediately pull out a chair for each of you.

“Oh, we don’t want to interrupt,” Chiara says, and tries to wave one of the men away.

“Nonsense,” her father replies. “I was just telling Don Giovanna about you, anyway.”

Chiara laughs nervously and takes her seat. You follow suit.

The seat you’re offered places you next to Chiara, and across from the man with the red hat. At the head of table, beside him, is who you assume is Don Giovanna.

“He had only the best to say of you,” Don Giovanna says with a low smile. Signore Alessi couldn’t look more pleased, and it occurs to you that this man, although younger than him, is clearly the one with the most influence at this table. The honorific title of Don only confirms that he’s someone of great social standing here. Your gut twists uncomfortably with anxiety; Chiara really has brought you out of your league with this one.

“Your father tells me you’re studying sociology?” Don Giovanna continues.

“Ah, yes,” Chiara stutters quickly.

“What would you like to do with it?”

“Social work,” she answers.

Don Giovanna nods his head. “That’s an admirable goal,” he says. “We could certainly use more compassionate workers in the social services.”

And because Chiara is apparently uncomfortable with the amount of attention on her, and because you’re the most convenient victim, she says, “thank you, Don Giovanna, but really I only chose to do it because of my friend.”

She motions to you, and the Don’s eyes, and every other pair of eyes at the table, move to watch you.

“She’s always there for me, even when I don’t deserve it, and she’s the kindest person I know. I just want to be able to become that kind of person for others.”

You think you could cry at hearing such genuine praise, if you couldn’t feel Chiara nudging your heel under the table to shake you out of your headspace. The table full of important men is awaiting your response (and, conveniently, no longer pinning that attention on Chiara).

You don’t know what to say. How do you even respond to such high praise? You don’t know what to say but you need to say something. Anything.

“Oh, uhm. Fuck.”

Ok, well. Anything but that.

The table bursts into laughter. Chiara covers her mouth and snorts as her father claps his hand to his chest in a full belly laugh. The man in the hat cracks the first grin you’ve seen from him yet, and even the Don is stifling a low smile. You don’t know whether you should be relieved or even more embarrassed.

“(Y/n) has been a wonderful friend to my girl,” Signore Alessi says, saving you from having to recover yourself with a response. “I’m grateful that my daughter has such a good influence in her life.”

As Signore Alessi goes on, gracefully rescuing you with a change of subject, the man in the hat catches your attention.

“Is that an accent I’m hearing?” he asks.

“That obvious?” you say sheepishly. “Yeah, I moved here a couple of years ago.”

“Your Italian’s very good, but I can always clock a foreigner,” he says. “And I’m also guessing this isn’t the type of place you usually hang out in.”

God, you’re going to kick Chiara for this later.

“Uh, no. I mean yes, you’re right. This wasn’t exactly my first choice for tonight.”

“Ooh, well don’t tell my boss that,” he says with a teasing lilt, nodding his head towards Don Giovanna, who is listening attentively to whatever story Signore Alessi is in the middle of. “He kind of owns the place.”

Beside you, Chiara sighs. “What she means to say is that she’s a homebody who doesn’t know how to party. Of course the club is lovely.” She kicks you under the table.

“Hey, no shame in that,” the man says. “Between you and me, I’d rather be at home with a beer right now, but duty calls.”

“Oh, are you in real estate like Signore Alessi?” you ask. The man stares at you for a beat. Chiara shifts in her seat beside you.

“Yeah,” he answers at last. “Real estate. We were just meeting about uh, property and shit, you know how it goes. Boring stuff.”

As Chiara is folding and unfolding her hands, you notice that her eyes have flicked to the Don, and you also notice, in your peripheral, that the Don’s eyes have flicked to you. There’s a sense that something is going over your head here, like being on the outside of a joke everyone else is in on, but as soon as the feeling appears the man in front of you is speaking again.

“Anyway! I haven’t even introduced myself. The name’s Mista.”

You offer him your own name, and he orders drinks for you and Chiara, insisting that you stay and chat with everyone. Their meeting has wrapped up anyway, and he would never turn down the company of two pretty girls, he explains.

Mista is easy to talk to. Easygoing and genial, he quickly has you relaxing into a friendly conversation. Your anxiety from before melts away as you tell him about your home country, about the ridiculous situations Chiara has dragged you into (which she responds to with a groan), and as he answers with a laugh and a funny story of his own. You are so wrapped up in conversation with them, that you pay no attention to the eyes watching you quietly from further down the table.

You’re laughing with a half-empty glass in your hand when Chiara tugs on your wrist and excuses you both from the table for a moment.

“Oh my god. He’s checking you out,” she whispers as she pulls you into the bathroom.

“Mista?” you ask, feeling your cheeks warm. “I mean, he’s sweet but-“

“No!” she interrupts, and leans into your space conspiratorially. “The Don.”

Hah. The Don.

“Ok. Sure,” you say.

“I’m not joking,” she says. “God, you’re so clueless. He’s been watching you this whole time.”

“I haven’t even spoken to him,” you say. “And he’s like, 10 years older than us, at least. And rich.”

“And he was watching you,” Chiara huffs. She says your name lowly and levels you with a stare. “I know these things. Remember the last time I caught someone checking you out?”

“The guy who showed up to our date with an ankle monitor on?”

“God, that’s not the point. I told you he was flirting and I was right.”

Sensing that this conversation is not about to go anywhere else, you concede with a halfhearted “ok” and push the door open to leave.

You push the door open into the Don’s face.

He catches it smoothly with one large hand and doesn’t flinch as you squawk.

“Sorry! I didn’t see you there,” you squeak.

“No worries, Signorina,” he says. In the small space of the hallway, you notice that his voice is rich, masculine, smooth. “Is everything all right? Your friend seemed to be in a hurry.” Has he sounded like that all night? Has he been looking at you like that all night?

The hallway to the bathrooms is small, and the the placement of his hand on the door has his arm and body hovering over you in a way that’s almost…intimate. You notice, not for the first time that night, that Giorno is handsome. Very handsome. You decide that you’re reading into things too much because this isn’t a romance novel and things like this don’t happen to you, of course.

“Everything’s fine,” you answer, looking over your shoulder to see that the bathroom behind you is empty, which means that Chiara has hidden herself in one of the stalls.

“My friend was just”-you think of telling him she has a headache, and then remember how embarrassed she made you earlier-“throwing up. A lot. I told her she should have eaten something before coming out and drinking.”

Giorno’s brows pinch in concern. “Ah. Is she…all right? I would be happy to call someone over to check on her.”

“Nope,” you answer. “She’ll be fine as soon as she gets it all out. Last time we went out clubbing it took-“

“Actually!” Chiara’s voice rings out behind you, the stall door flying open with a thud. “I think I’m sick, because I can handle my alcohol just fine, actually, so I’d like you to take me home now, please?”

She sidles up beside you and pinches your side, politely excusing the both of you from the Don as you say “ow.” He makes a face somewhere between quizzical and amused as you’re dragged back to the table for Chiara to kiss her father on the cheek and tell him goodbye.

“So good to see you, principessa,” he says, and turns to you. “Tell her to come visit her poor father sometime, and bring yourself along while you’re at it.”

You smile. “Of course, Signore.”

It seems that the rest of the table is ready to call it a night as well, as Signore Alessi and the others stand and begin to give their goodbyes. You down the rest of your drink quickly, finishing just in time to see that Don Giovanna has come back to the balcony—and that his eyes are on you again, for the second before Signore Alessi is calling for his attention.

You decide that you should leave before he can ask about your poor, sick friend again.

The wash of cool air is more than welcome as you step out of the building and into the street. Your skin must have been flushed for half the night, between the embarrassment, the laughter, the drinks, and…whatever that was with the Don.

“Thank god that’s over,” Chiara sighs beside you, whipping her phone out to call an Uber. “I’m remembering why I always skipped out on dad’s dinners when I was a kid.”

“Oh, I didn’t think they were that bad,” you say. “Especially for a bunch of middle aged-“

The door swings open behind you, and Mista strolls out alone.

“Good, I caught you before you took off,” he says. He nods at Chiara and then looks at you expectantly. “I’ve got a little favor to ask. Could I get your number?”

Oh. Oh no. Mista seems sweet, really, but-

“For my boss.”

Oh. Oh.

Over Mista’s shoulder, you see Chiara’s mouth fall open as she holds herself back from giving you an immediate “I told you so.”

Don Giovanna wants your number. The Don wants your number. You have to be misreading this. Maybe he’s just got an open position for an intern that needs filling. Maybe he’s just very polite and wants to check up on your supposedly nauseous friend later.

“He would’ve asked you himself, but he got a little wrapped up, as you saw,” Mista goes on with a laugh.

“Yeah, sure,” you say before your brain can catch up to your mouth. You enter your number into a phone Mista hands you, and he turns to enter the building again as your Uber pulls up to the curb.

“He’ll probably call you sometime tomorrow,” he says with a wave. “Great meeting you guys. Ciao!”

You watch the door click shut behind him. Chiara is going to be so obnoxious about this. You dive into the car before you can see how smug her expression is and look very pointedly out the window. Incredibly, she says nothing as the driver pulls up to her apartment just a few blocks away, and the both of you trudge through the lobby, into the elevator, and through the doors to her apartment. You’re tugging your dress over your head to change into your pajamas when she finally speaks.

“I’m booking you an appointment with my Brazilian waxer,” she says.

You would smack her with a pillow, if you didn’t know that she was also offering to pay. And with the way your nerves are already beginning to act up, it’s an offer you may want to take her up on.

—

The next weekend, Chiara comes over to help you get ready for your date by laying in bed and watching while you put your makeup on and offering such useful suggestions as “are you sure you don’t want my push-up bra? I would want a push-up bra.”

You don’t bother to respond, because you think your boobs look fine in the mirror, and because you still can’t make yourself believe this date will end up in that direction anyway. Giorno, as he asked you to call him, had been nothing but polite over his texts to you. Brief, formal, but polite.

He did specifically call it a date, which defeated your theory of a job offering, but it all still feels so…unbelievable.

“I still can’t believe this is happening,” Chiara says, as if reading your thoughts. “I mean, of course he’s into you, because you’re beautiful and smart and nice, but-“ she sighs. “God. You have no idea how big this guy is. This is so insane.”

“What, is he the prime minister’s landlord?” you laugh. “I can handle some big-shot real estate mogul.”

Chiara looks at you the way she might look at a dog with three legs. Sweet, but pitiful.

“You are so, so clueless,” she says. “You should probably stay that way.”

You don’t have time to wonder what the fuck she’s talking about, because your phone pings with a text from Giorno. He’s pulling up to your apartment complex.

—

It’s drizzling as you push past the doors of your apartment building. You didn’t think to bring an umbrella down, you hope this doesn’t smudge your makeup—and the worms have already begun to wriggle onto the sidewalk.

Poor things. The skies will be cleared up and the sidewalk will be bone dry again in just a couple of hours. They don’t even know that they’re about to die slowly and horribly.

It’s just as you’re picking up the last one that you hear a car pull up to the curb behind you. You pray that it isn’t Giorno, come just in time to see you crouched in a puddle with a worm between your fingers, but you can’t imagine that anyone else in this grubby apartment block would be driving a Ferrari. He steps out just as you’re placing the little guy into a soft patch of grass.

“Buonasera,” he greets you as he takes in the scene. Your hands are dripping with mud water and worm slime, and suddenly you’re very worried about getting dirt in this car that probably cost more than you’ll make in years.

“Buonasera,” you say. “I was just, um. The worms-“ you trail off as you realize you don’t have an explanation that doesn’t make you feel a bit silly, but Giorno’s face breaks into a soft smile. He produces a handkerchief from his pocket and takes your dirty hands in his.

“I can see that,” he says, rubbing your hands gently between the fabric, brushing it between each finger and over every knuckle. His hands are warm. Your skin is clammy. “I’m sure they appreciate the effort.”

He opens the passenger door for you and escorts you in with a hand on your arm, and your cheeks begin to warm with that familiar heat.

The restaurant he brings you to is easily the nicest you’ve ever stepped foot in. Certainly nicer than the boutique cafes Chiara (and her dad’s credit card) often treat you to. Giorno hands his keys to a valet and leads you up the steps with a hand on your lower back, through a set of heavy double doors and into the lavish building. Elegant decor, low lighting, floor to ceiling windows overlooking Naple’s skyline and the bay…this definitely has ankle monitor guy beat. Regretfully, you do have to give this one to Chiara.

The hostess looks up from her station as you approach, and upon seeing Giorno, immediately gathers a couple of menus and motions for the two of you to follow her. He must be a regular here, you think, or maybe it has something to do with what Chiara was telling you earlier. Something about Giorno being a bigger deal than you understood.

The hostess seats you at a table in the far corner of the restaurant. Quiet, secluded from the other patrons. Giorno pulls your seat out for you and takes the jacket from your shoulders. He orders a bottle of wine with a name you don’t recognize and the hostess leaves you with your menus.

“I hope the restaurant is to your liking,” he says. He must be joking. Everything about it is beautiful, if not a little intimidating for someone unused to such luxury.

“It’s very pretty,” you say, looking out across the bay. The sun is beginning to set, casting vivid red hues across the seawater.

“Do you like to watch the ocean?” he asks.

“From a distance, absolutely,” you answer. “Up close it gets a little…scarier.”

“Scary? Are you not a fan of swimming, then?”

“Oh no,” you say quickly. “I saw Jaws when I was a kid. Never been the same since.”

The corner of Giorno’s mouth quirks. “I can assure you no one here has died in a shark attack for a very long time.”

The waiter returns to set a wine bottle and two glasses on the table, pouring it out for both of you. Giorno takes a slow sip of his and you pick up your glass to do the same. You aren’t usually one for wine, but you’re not about to offend him by rejecting it. You take a sip and try not to make a face that says “ew.”

“Do you enjoy wine?” Giorno asks.

“Yes,” you lie. “Your friend said you own the club we met at?” A smooth change of subject.

“I do, as well as a couple of others in the city. My business partners and I often hold meetings there, as you saw.”

“Meeting about uh, real estate things?” God, you’re bad at this.

Giorno smiles. “No, not quite. We were actually discussing an upcoming charity fundraiser.”

“That’s nice. Chiara always said her dad’s coworkers were-“ you realize you’re about to put your foot in your mouth yet again, and change course. “-great people. Really generous.”

Giorno takes another slow sip from his glass, and fixes you with a look you can’t quite place. “That very kind of her, but things haven’t always been this way. I do try to keep them in line now that I’m in the business.”

“What charity are you fundraising for?”

“A few,” Giorno begins. “Most of them supporting children and families affected by substance abuse.”

Ah, Naple’s infamous addiction issues. From what you’ve heard, the problem has lessened in severity since the last decade, but an issue with roots so deep can only be uprooted so quickly.

“I’ve heard about the addiction rates here,” you say. “Is it something you’re passionate about?”

“Absolutely,” Giorno says, and his gaze becomes intense, even more so than it always seems to be. “You could say that my life’s work has revolved around it. To threaten the well-being of these people, to pollute these streets with drugs-“ he turns to gaze through the window, at the sidewalks and people below. “-it’s unforgivable.”

You aren’t sure how to respond to such a speech, at first. Giorno’s intensity is brilliant to the point of intimidation, firm and absolute in this conviction he’s shared with you. You realize that this is the same assuredness you’ve seen in him since you met him that night, in every small interaction you witnessed (and shared) with him. In the way he’s looked at you, even after only just having met you. An absolute certainty in what he wants, and the absolute confidence to pursue it. You have no doubt, somehow, that he’ll have it.

“I like that,” you say simply. “I mean, you must be very proud. It seems like all your work is paying off.”

“I am,” he says, with that intense gaze fixed on you. Bright. Brilliant. “Thank you. You would be surprised at how much…resistance my work has been met with. It isn’t something one receives thanks for often, in my circle.”

You can’t imagine an apparent philanthropist being so deprived of something as basic as genuine praise, but the look on his face is achingly close to something you’ve seen before. In kids who were never told enough how good they were, in quiet classmates who’s work never seemed to be noticed. It’s uncomfortable, almost, to see pieces of those people in the man in front of you. It’s intimate, too intimate, and Giorno is still pinning you with that look, so you decide now is a good time to veer the conversation onto a different course.

“Well, if your whole real estate business doesn’t work out, I guess you could always ask the local mafia for a job,” you say.

Giorno’s mouth quirks again. “Oh?”

“My friend says they’ve really cracked down on the drug trade around here,” you explain. “I bet you’d fit right in. Be like a real Dark Knight type of situation.”

“Was Batman in the mafia?” Giorno says, matching your playful tone.

“Uh, maybe? He broke a lot of laws, right? So basically the same thing.”

“Mm,” Giorno hums. “Yes, I suppose it is.” Something in his smile is unplaceable to you. It reminds you of the night in the club, when you were pricked with the feeling that something was going over your head. That Giorno is in on some private joke you’re oblivious to.

“But if I was spending my evenings fighting crime,” he begins. “I wouldn’t have had the pleasure of meeting you.”

Warmth spreads through your cheeks, now from more than just the wine. Giorno is easy to talk to. Charming, witty, polite. The food he orders for you is delicious, of course, and you don’t realize until your plate is cleared and the sun has set that Giorno has managed to keep you talking for the entire evening. To think that you had been so anxious about this date, and just a few hours later here you are, chatting like you’ve known him for months.

When Giorno leads you outside the moon has already begun to rise, cool night air brushing past your flushed skin. His hand is warm on your lower back as he escorts you down the steps, firm under your fingers as he helps you into the car. When he slides into the driver’s seat and his own door clicks shut beside him, the bustle of the street and chatter of the crowds melts away, an intimate silence filling the small space of the car.

“Have I told you that you look beautiful tonight?” Giorno says, his eyes dipping briefly along the curves of your face, your neck, your…they flit back up to meet yours. Your skin prickles.

“Mm, maybe a couple of times,” you say.

Headlights from passing cars bathe Giorno in fleeting streaks of light, glinting off the rings on his fingers, illuminating his face and the skin of his chest where his unbuttoned shirt parts. He brushes his fingers over the soft skin of your hand, watching your face intently, as if testing the waters for your reaction. You curl your fingers into his, feeling the warmth of his palms, the slick metal of his rings.

“Thank you for taking me out,” you say softly.

“The pleasure was mine,” he says, his thumb making slow drags across your knuckles. “You’ll have to allow me the chance to do it again. After all, I need to redeem myself with a drink you actually enjoy.”

You huff sharply at the mischievous edge to his words. “You noticed.”

He smiles, teasing as his fingers brush up and down yours. “It was very kind of you to try to spare my ego, but I did notice.”

“And you were just going to let me suffer through it?” your smile back.

Giorno leans into your space, your twined hands close enough to his face that you can feel his breath on your fingers.

“Do you know that you scrunch your face when you drink something bitter?” he says. You’re suddenly very aware of the drool pooling underneath your tongue, and swallow hard. “It’s very endearing, (y/n).”

You can’t seem to push a response through your lips. The two of you sit in a charged silence, watching each other, feeling the warmth radiating from his body.

He says your name in a low voice. “May I kiss you?”

Oh, he may. He absolutely may.

“Yes,” you breathe. His hand untangles from yours to slide up your shoulder, your neck, under the line of your jaw and into the thick of your hair. His fingers curl into it there, the pressure on your scalp tilting your head back and pulling a sharp exhale from your lips.

“Can I ask you a question?” he says, his breathe fanning across your mouth. You answer with an “mm,” too woozy with anticipation to put together anything more.

“How long have you wanted me to do it?”

Oh, he is cocky. Most frustrating is the fact that you can’t say it’s undeserved; Giorno is gorgeous, and charming, and right in front you, and you do want it. You have wanted it since…you think back to the first time you felt this familiar heat around him.

“Since you cornered me. Against the bathroom door in the club,” you tell him.

From this close, you can see the tiniest pull of a smile on his lips. “Hm,” he says. “That long?”

He’s finally worn out your patience. Your hands fly to his face, cupping the sharp lines of his jaw, threading into his hair and tugging him into you, covering his warm mouth with your own. He hums into it, returning your kiss with equal pressure, and as quickly as you’ve kissed him you realize he’s already taken back the reigns.

Giorno’s mouth works against yours slowly, surely. You cede control to him happily, letting your hands slide down the hard lines of his neck and shoulders. The fabric of his jacket is like butter under your hands, fine and delicate over his sturdy form. You nudge it to the side as your hands wander, the skin of them pressing into the bare skin of his neck where his muscles work as he takes your mouth over and over again.

His other hand presses into your waist then, encouraging you over the center console and closer to his chest. You let him pull you wherever he pleases, one hand dropping onto his leg to steady yourself as you’re dragged nearly on top of him. With the distance closed, his hand slides to wrap his entire arm around you, pulling you further into his chest, close enough for his mouth to wander down, down to your neck and the sensitive space where it meets your shoulder.

Your breathing has picked up. Enough that the window in front of you is beginning to fog, and you can feel your chest brushing up against his with every gulp of air. He runs a hand down your back in soothing strokes.

“Easy,” he coos. “I’ve got you.”

He pulls away just enough for you catch your breath, but close enough still to leave his grip in your hair and his arm around your body, making steady, steady strokes. It isn’t like you to get so worked up so quickly. But then, none of your dates before now have been…well, Giorno.

“Giorno,”you breathe. Your fingers find the skin of his shoulders again, scratching lightly them, and the sharp breath it pulls from the man pressed up against you is delicious.

“I’m here,” he says. Is his voice getting huskier? “Is there something you need?”

There is, but it isn’t something you normally ask for. Not on a first date, and certainly not from a man your hardly know.

But Giorno has made you feel nothing but safe in the short time you’ve spent with him. It’s irrational, how much you want to trust him despite practically being strangers, but you cannot deny this quality about him that just makes you feel…safe. That coaxes you gently into placing your faith in him.

He says your name again. “You don’t have to do anything you’re uncomfortable with. I can take you home now, if that’s what you want.”

But you do want it. You do want him. The hard part is asking for it. Giorno is older than you, wealthy, gorgeous, wildly successful, and a dozen other things that make insecurity coil tightly in your gut. But he watches you so patiently while you deliberate, his gentle hand making circles on your back, and to assume that he would look down on you for any of those things feels as if it would be an insult to his character.

You swallow hard. “No, I want it.”

That smile on his lips again. “Want what?”

Your head drops to his shoulder and you groan, taking a fistful of his undershirt. “Please don’t tease me like this.”

Giorno tucks his head into the space between your neck and your shoulder, his breath fanning over your ear. “Tell me exactly what you want, and I’ll give it to you.”

You whine into his shoulder and only feel a bit embarrassed at the childishness of it. “I can’t,” you tell him.

He places one of his hands into yours and you take it in your grasp. “Then show me.”

Splaying his hand out on your ribs, he waits for your guidance. You intertwine your fingers again, feeling the size of his hand under yours, the metallic edge of his rings. He squeezes your fingers back, but makes no other move. He really is going to make you ask for this.

You let out a long, shaky breath. You want this. You want him. Tentatively, you begin dragging his hand across the plane of your body. Up your ribs, just underneath the swell of your breast, where his thumb brushes curiously over the underwire of your bra. You linger there, moving his hand in short arcs under the curve of your breast, breath hitching as his thumb travels closer and closer to the stiff peak of your nipple…and then you drop your hand, dragging him away from the soft flesh.

His mouth curls into a smile against your shoulder. “Teasing me?”

You laugh breathlessly as you guide his hand over the dip in your waist. “Only since you seem to like it so much.”

His hand slides appreciatively over the meat of your hip, kneading it firmly. You follow the cut of your hipbone inward, underneath the plush of your belly, to the crease between you thigh. Blood rushes hot through your ears, making you almost dizzy with want. Anything you ask for, he said. Anything you ask, he’ll give.

The heat of his mouth attaches to your neck again, and the feeling is so wonderful against your buzzing skin that you feel your eyes flutter close. He’s encouraging you, you realize. Gently coaxing you into confidence. He wants you, too.

Inching him down, you guide his hand to brush over the mound between your hips. Your breath catches. You’ve never had to ask for this before.

You think of the men you’ve been with in times past. How they practically threw themselves at you, taking absolutely anything they could get from you, hungrily, without restraint. This is foreign. It makes you feel almost desperate with need, to be so close to having what you want, but to be so nervous to reach out for it.

Sensing your hesitation, Giorno opens his mouth and presses the wet heat of his tongue flat against your neck, dragging it up along the line of your jaw to the sensitive skin below your ear, and this time your eyes do roll back. The wet trail he leaves on your skin chills in the night air, and you moan for him.

“Che brava ragazza (what a good girl),” he praises you. “You can have it. Just ask me for it, you can have it.”

He squeezes your hand gently, reassuringly, and you don’t have the patience to be bashful anymore. You slide him down to the bunched up hem of your dress, under the fabric, and flat against your aching core. The meat of his palm is firm against your folds and he rewards you immediately with a strong grip around your pussy.

“Good, good girl,” he says, making short strokes with his whole hand up and down your center. He pulls away from your neck only to drag you into another kiss, harder than the last, and you abandon his hand against you to fist both of yours into his hair. The moan you let into his mouth is wanton, embarrassingly so for someone who’s only barely been touched. You can’t bring yourself to care. The pressure between your legs is so, so good.

Deft fingers slip under your panties and you gasp as he slides the pads of his fingers along the wet of your lips.

“All this? Already?” Giorno says airily.

“You make—fuck,” your voice clips as the pads of Giorno’s fingers dip into your entrance, dragging your slick up to the nub of your clit. “Mmmm fuck, you make me feel good.”

Giorno groans, a low rumble in his chest, and you drop your head to his shoulder as his fingers make quick circles around your clit. His pace is steady, pressure firm, as he works you closer and closer to a peak that is quickly approaching.

You take the hand still tangled in your hair and drag it to rest flat on the meat of your breast, which he kneads greedily. The temperature in the confined space of the car has risen, high enough that you can feel sweat starting to gather on your skin and dampen your clothes, but you don’t care. You might be about to squirt all over the interior of Giorno’s nice car, but you can’t bring yourself to care about that either when he’s pulling you so diligently to your climax.

“You’re so worked up,” he says, and his voice is definitely shot now. Deep. Gravelly. A little bit desperate. “Are you going to cum for me?”

You are. You are you are you are, and his fingers pick up their pace under your panties, and the hand on your breast finds the soft peak of your nipple underneath the pad of your bra and pinches, and you squeal. The pressure between your legs is hot, hot, hot.

“Yes, I’m gonna cum. Fuck, I’m gonna cum, please please please-“ You collapse into his chest, thighs shaking underneath you, and moan into the fabric of his suit as the pressure in your hips finally releases. With the arm around your waist Giorno holds you upright while you go practically boneless against him, hips stuttering into his hand as he works you through the length of your orgasm, his chest rumbling against you as he praises, “brava, brava ragazza, proprio così (good, good girl, just like that).”

As the rush begins to sizzle out, his fingers continue in their persistent slide against your clit, until you’re pushing at his hand with an “ah, ah” that has him laughing airily. The car is filled with the sound of your fluttering breaths, and of the quiet, soothing noises Giorno makes above you.

“Good thing I don’t have a night job fighting crime,” Giorno teases you.

You laugh breathlessly. “Yeah, good thing.”

You wrap your arms around his broad chest, sinking into the warmth of his body, and he envelops you in his arms. Stroking your back as you shiver, carding fingers through the tangles of your hair. As the fuzz begins to clear from your head, you feel the faintest warmth in your belly again as you realize you aren’t quite finished. Your fingers slide along the edge of his belt, playing with the buckle before he scoops your hand into his and brings it to his lips for a kiss.

“Not yet, amore,” he says. “Not here.”

Your shoulders slump with your disappointment and he laughs against your hair.

“When I fuck you,” he speaks into your ear. “I’m going to do it properly.” You shiver against him.

He lets you rest against his chest until you’ve caught your breath. “Do you have work tomorrow?” he asks.

You shake your head. “No.”

“Then come home with me,” he says with a smile and a kiss to your head. “And I’ll let you have whatever else you want.”

You pull back to look at him. Cheeks flushed. Hair tousled from the work of your fingers. The collar of his shirt pushed wide open against his chest. You want, you want, you want.

“Ok,” you answer, and press your lips to his warm cheek. The car starts with a low rumble, and you fix yourself in your seat. Your skirt is bunched around your waist, your hair a mess, your makeup smeared, no doubt. Giorno pulls away from the curb and you roll down the emptying Naples streets. “But only if I get to tease you this time.”

He meets your eyes with that look that promises absolutely nothing good. “Of course,” he says, pulling your hand to his mouth for another kiss. And another.

“Anything you want.”

[marvel-ous-m]

Time Will Tell

WC: 3260 | Rating: Teen and Up | Tags: Steve Harrington Has Bad Parents, Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, The Unrelenting Anxiety of Gift-Giving | AO3 Link

Summary: It's Eddie's 21st Birthday, and Steve's not sure what gift he should get him, what would show the man how much he loves him, how glad he is that they've been able to share the last six months together. That indecisiveness is made worse by the fact he's known since he was six: people are never honest about whether or not they actually appreciate the gift they've been given- and Steve can't stand the idea of Eddie not liking the gift but pretending for Steve's sake. Steve ends up choosing a gift that he knows Eddie won't like in an effort to save everyone pain. That decision sparks a much-needed conversation, and helps Steve understand that his parent's relationship really isn't the blueprint.

Fic Below the Cut!

“-An emerald, I mean, really, could that man at least try to act like he knows me?” 

Steve’s eyebrows knit together in confusion at his mother’s exclamation, and he tilted his head. His eyes remained trained on his feet, wrapped in small leather loafers that hung off the side of his parent’s bed. “But Mama, I thought you said you loved it earlier? That it was pretty?” 

His mother gave a great, put-upon sigh and turned to face where Steve was seated on the bed. “You’ll understand when you’re older, baby.” Her arms stretched awkwardly around her neck while she spoke, her hands struggling with the clasp of the necklace Steve’s father had presented to her that morning, a gift for her birthday. 

Steve huffed in annoyance and crossed his arms. “But wanna und’stand now.” 

“You’re a big boy now, Steven. You’re six, enunciate your words, and don’t whine.” Her reprimand came stern, and was juxtaposed by the soft “Aha!” moments later, when the clasp of the necklace finally closed. She turned back towards the vanity and rested her precisely manicured hands over the pendant, a gleaming emerald wrapped in gold, then smiled sadly at herself in the mirror. 

“Gifts are rarely about what you actually want, Steven. More often than not, they’re about the monetary value, or meeting a need, or subtly showing the recipient that you have the upper hand. They’re… strategic. I needed a new piece of jewelry for the party tonight, your father delivered- even though the gem he gave me clashes with my eyes, and my skin tone is more complemented by platinum than gold. He gave me this necklace because it makes him look good. It would’ve been nice if he put thought into it- but, well, it would be rude not to be grateful.”

“But… Mama, couldn’t Daddy do both? Get you something you need, and make it something you like?” 

His mother’s smile wavered and her eyes softened from where they were now gazing at Steve through his reflection in the vanity mirror. “He could, yes, but it’s like you said- I told him I loved it. As far as your father is concerned, he’s done exactly that- gotten me something I like and need. I’m not going to tell him otherwise. Does that make sense?”

No. In Steve’s six-year-old brain, it really, really didn’t. “I guess so.”

His mother nodded at him from the mirror, then began to put on her earrings. “Good. Now, do you remember what to say when one of your father’s coworkers asks you what you want to be when you grow up?” 

This was something that Steve could understand, a response his mother had been teaching him for the last few weeks. Steve beamed. “I want to be an attorney like my Daddy!” 

“Good job, baby. Now, go and brush your teeth- we’ll be leaving in a few minutes. It’s your first time joining us at dinner, I want to make sure you’re absolutely perfect.”

“Okay Mama!” Steve scooted off the edge of the bed and toddled towards his parent’s bedroom door, being careful to walk with flat feet so he wouldn’t crease the leather of his loafers, just how his Mama taught him.

“Oh, and Stevie? Don’t tell your father how I feel about the necklace, okay? That’s a just for us conversation.” 

Steve nodded, familiar with the concept of keeping certain conversations he had with his mother or father a secret from the other. “Alright, Mama.” 

Eddie didn’t like his gift, and Steve knew that. Had prepared for that exact outcome, in fact.

He wasn’t sure what would be good enough to get Eddie for his birthday. They’d been dating for almost six months already, had been flirting around each other for even longer, and Steve was at a loss. 

What do you get for the person who you fought hell with? For the person who beat the odds and lived despite everything, for the person you’ve seen at their lowest- the person who saw you at your lowest? What item could possibly express how much Steve adores Eddie, could say how happy he is that Eddie even made it to his 21st birthday after everything that happened? What could serve as a physical testament to the truth of all of their ‘I love you’s and all of the ‘I’m so glad you’re here’s?  

Steve got Eddie a watch. 

It was the backup gift of the backup gift of the backup gift. A decision made entirely out of cowardice, his mother’s words ringing in his ear. 

He had wanted to get Eddie a new battle vest initially- then decided against it, because he was worried it would serve as too much of a reminder of what had happened last Spring. 

He’d thought about a guitar case next, an idea that sprung up when he was walking by the music shop downtown. He literally face-palmed moments later, gaining a strange look from a passerby, when he realized that Eddie’s guitar had been left in the Upside Down, that he still didn’t have a new electric guitar, and he already had a case for his acoustic. 

Naturally, a new guitar came to mind as a gift idea next, but he nixed that immediately too. The whole reason Eddie hadn’t bought a new guitar yet was because he was very particular about the instrument- and Steve had no idea about all of the different things to consider in guitar buying, so he’d probably just fuck it up. He considered some other stuff, too- new materials to play D&D, concert tickets- but his mind just kept screaming at him, telling him that he didn’t know Eddie well enough to give him any of those gifts.

Really, all he could think about was how badly he would fuck up giving Eddie any meaningful gift- how he’d probably never know if Eddie didn’t like it, because people always pretended that they liked a gift even if they didn’t, so it was basically impossible to tell whether something was actually appreciated. 

At the end of the day, it was just easier to abide by the words his mother told him at six and get something that would look nice. Steve wouldn’t be putting his emotions on the line by getting a risky gift, something that Eddie would either love more than anything or absolutely despise. 

It was a gift that didn’t match Eddie’s personality at all, and Steve knew that. Eddie was always running late to things, but that’s just how he was. It was endearing, a trait that was lovable, not something to be fixed by having a watch on his wrist. 

Steve had, in fact, only realized the negative connotation of the gift after he’d decided to buy it, but it was too late to decide on something else, so he tried to ignore the way his stomach hurt throughout the process of purchasing the thing, and hoped for the best. 

Eddie didn’t care about showings of wealth either, so it was pretty pointless for Steve to get him such a nice watch. It wasn’t, like, a Rolex, but he had to save up a bit to buy it. It was made up of dark gray metal with a black leather band, a decision that was made out of Steve trying his best to at least make the gift something that wouldn’t clash with Eddie’s usual attire. 

He put a bow on the box it came in and added it to the pile of gifts at Eddie’s birthday party. He tried to stop himself from looking at Eddie when he was going through the process of opening presents, ignored the way his hackles rose when Eddie opened up the watch and gave a tight smile, then a forced-out “Thanks” to Steve, and moved on to opening the next gift wordlessly. 

Every other gift elicited a dramatic response from Eddie- a drawing from Will, new dice and minifigures from the kids, a mixtape from Robin, some sci-fi books from Nancy, homemade brownies (yes, *those* brownies) from Jon and Argyle- 

And Steve got Eddie a watch. 

The rest of the guests to Eddie’s birthday party slowly filtered out of the trailer after all the presents were opened, that having been the close of the party’s festivities. Steve stuck around, cleaning up the trash and dirty dishes strewn around the surrounding area. 

Steve and Eddie danced around each other wordlessly- Steve cleaning up while Eddie moved the various gifts from the living room to his bedroom. When all of the leftover paper plates, napkins, and cups were thrown away, and Steve couldn’t find any other dishes to wash in the kitchen, he returned to the living room. 

Eddie was seated on the couch by that point, and the watch- in its box, the lid propped open to display the thing- was resting on the coffee table in front of him. “Are you mad at me, Steve? Because, if you are, we could’ve just- I don’t know, talked, instead of you embarrassing me in front of all of our friends on my birthday.” 

Steve felt the familiar burn of tears and ducked his head so that Eddie wouldn’t see how his words had affected him.

Eddie wasn’t following the script. 

The script which said, no matter what, just pretend to like the present so you don’t appear ungrateful. The script that Steve had been raised on, the script that taught him how to play his part. The script that had motivated him to get the gift in the first place. 

“I didn’t mean to be late to Party movie night last week, or to our date three weeks ago, it’s just hard for me to realize what time it is when I’m stuck in my head about something. I didn’t realize that it was bothering you so much- you could’ve told me, y’know? I just feel like shit now, and I’m not even angry- not at you, I’m mad at myself and I’m upset that you didn’t just tell me, and-” 

“-I’m sorry.” Steve’s apology came whispered, barely audible due to his head still hanging, staring down at his feet. 

His feet, which were wrapped in white, scuffed tennis shoes. 

A far cry from the loafers he’d worn at six. 

Steve wrapped his arms around himself and focused on taking measured breaths. 

He was so clearly detached from the life of his parents, from the unhealthy ideology that stemmed from having too much money and being in a practical relationship rather than one that was built on love. 

His relationship with Eddie couldn’t be more different, yet he’d slipped back into that familiar, thinly-veiled selfishness the second he felt anxiety over getting Eddie the wrong thing. Eddie had always been honest with him, so how could Steve ever think that he’d pull the same passive-aggressive misrepresentation of love that his mother so often portrayed to his father?

“Steve?” 

It seemed Eddie had crossed the room while Steve had been distracted by his own thoughts, seeing as the man was now cupping Steve’s jaw with his hand, a concerned look in his eyes. “Where’d you go, sweetheart?” 

“S-sorry. I’m sorry, I just- I don’t think I’m good at it.” Steve’s words came quicker than his thoughts, and his breath hitched as he spoke due to his steady crying.

“Good at what, Stevie?”

“Gifts.”

Eddie hummed under his breath, his thumb gently swiping against Steve’s cheekbone in an effort to wipe away his tears. “Care to expand on that, baby? Because the Stevie I know just gave Robin a weekend trip to Chicago for her birthday a month ago, and it made her cry so hard she almost threw up.”

“It’s different.”

“What’s different?”

“We-we’re together, and- shit, Eds, I had a ton of ideas of things I thought you’d like, but I just kept thinking I’d get it wrong, but you wouldn’t- look, you love me too, right?” 

Eddie huffed out a soft breath of confusion, and his other hand moved to rest on the small of Steve’s back, pulling him into a hug. “Of course I love you, I tell you everyday”

“Yeah, I know.” Steve’s voice was near pleading, wobbling with renewed emotion while fresh tears slipped down his cheeks. “So even if I got you the wrong thing, I’d never know that, and then I’d just keep fucking up, and next thing you know, we’d resent each other and disguise that hatred in things that are supposed to be displays of love, like gifts, and we’d end up like my parents, and I can’t do that to you, you never deserve to feel that way-” 

“Hold on- sorry to cut you off, sweetheart, but I feel like I got a little lost there. C’mon, let’s sit.” Eddie wrapped his hand around Steve’s and tugged him towards the couch, then gently shoved Steve onto a cushion and curled up next to him, keeping their hands linked. “Okay, I have three questions. One, why do you think you’d get me the ‘wrong thing’; two, why wouldn’t you know if I didn’t like something; and three, if I love you so much- which you know I do, why do you think we’d end up like your parents?” 

Steve sniffed, scrubbing his eyes with the palm of his free hand to try and wipe the tears away. “It’s- okay, so, I wanted to get you a new vest, right? But that would just be a reminder of what happened back in the Upside Down, and then I wanted to get you a guitar case, but that wouldn’t work for obvious reasons- then I thought of a new guitar, but I’d definitely fuck that up because I don’t know the first thing about guitars. I thought about some other stuff, like for D&D or whatever, but I didn’t think that would be enough- and I just kept psyching myself out, right? Because my whole childhood, my dad got my mom these gifts, but they weren’t things she actually wanted, and all I could think about is how I could accidentally do that for you. 

“My mom, she always told him how happy she was, then would turn around and tell me or her friends how much she hated the thing and- I couldn’t stomach the idea of that happening, of not knowing that I upset you, so I just- I defaulted to something that would look nice, right? A strategic gift, rather than something special. I honestly didn’t even think about you being late to things until after I decided to buy it, and then I hated that I’d made that decision, because I don’t think you being late to stuff is something that needs to change, I actually kinda love it about you because it means that you were so wrapped up in something else, something you love. 

“Anyways- I just went through with it, bought the thing because I didn’t know what else to do, because knowing that you wouldn’t like it honestly made it easier than getting my hopes up about you liking something and then always questioning whether you actually liked it because people never really say what they think, but then you just came out and said what you thought about the frankly shit gift I got you, and I can’t believe it took that to make me realize how fuckin’ stupid I was being by just falling back into the toxic shit my parents taught me growing up. I’m so sorry, Eds. You didn’t deserve that. We’re obviously not going to end up like my parents, stuck together and hating each other- but sometimes, when I navigate us, I can’t help but go back to them, because they were my blueprint. Does that make sense?” 

Eddie’s hold on his hand hadn’t waned throughout Steve’s rambling explanation, and only grew tighter, more supportive, at the close of Steve’s question. “Yeah, sweetheart, that makes sense. I hate that you found yourself going down that line of thinking, but I understand that that’s where you’d go if your parents created that atmosphere for you.” 

The two sat in silence for a few minutes, Steve’s attention having turned towards the rings on Eddie’s hand that was tangled with his own, while Eddie used his other hand to gently card through Steve’s hair. Steve’s tears had slowed throughout his expounding and had become the occasional sniffle, joined by a shuddering breath. 

Eddie eventually broke their silence, his voice soft and his tone careful. “For what it’s worth, I can tell you put a lot of thought into it. Even if it’s not really something I was hoping for, you chose a gift that would go with my outfits, chose my favorite colors. I can tell how much it mattered to you to get something I’d like, even if you defaulted to making it something that you knew wouldn’t mean, y’know, the world to me.” 

Steve huffed, shifting so that he could burrow his face in the crook of Eddie’s neck. “You don’t have to try and make it not shitty, Eds, I know it sucks. I knew that going in.” 

“I’m being honest, I still appreciate the good intentions behind it.” 

“I’m sorry that it made you feel so shitty- sorry that now you have to deal with all this on top of it, on your fucking birthday-” 

“Stevie, baby, it’s okay. Being with you- that alone means the world to me. You could’ve gotten me nothing and I would’ve been grateful to be with you, because in my opinion, you are the greatest gift I’ve ever received. As for working through childhood shit on my birthday, that’s not, like, a chore for me. I’m happy to be here, to talk about these things with you, because I love you, and that’s part of our love. Okay?”

Eddie pressed a kiss to Steve’s temple, and Steve melted underneath him, letting out a soft sigh. “Yeah, okay.” 

Steve shifted closer and kissed the dip of Eddie’s shoulder, then wrapped his arms around Eddie’s waist to pull the man closer. “I still wanna do something to apologize, something to celebrate you rather than make us fight.”

“You didn’t make us fight, baby. I was just confused. We talked, we figured stuff out, we’re holding each other, everything is good. You don’t have to make it up to me, because there’s nothing to make up.” 

Steve hummed against Eddie’s neck, his hand moving up to brush through his curls. “I don’t have to, but I still want to. Maybe not tonight, because I kinda think we should just cuddle and eat leftover cake and watch a movie, but tomorrow I wanna take you out, just drive for a few hours, we can find a place to grab some food together. After that, maybe we can come back here, hold each other a while. We can do that thing you like so much with your belt and my hands…” Steve trailed off, his tone lilting into something flirtatious. 

Eddie gave a giddy chuckle in response, flicking Steve’s bicep playfully. “Yeah, alright loverboy. As long as you’re feeling up for it, and not doing it because you feel like you have to do it- I think that I would love that.” 

“Then consider it done.” Steve sat back slightly to press a kiss to Eddie’s lips, then returned to his spot against Eddie’s shoulder. 

“Sounds like an outstanding gift. I’ll be counting down the seconds ‘til then, sweetheart.” 

[summerwriting]

Cute Vi story one shot

context: y/n is a ring fighter and also this was written before the next three episodes of season two had come out so it isn’t really working in the context of the story but y/n is a bit psychopathic basically and just tortured cait for hitting vi (only got a little into it when vi found out and stopped her ) also this is written in kind of an alternate AU that I designed

Warnings: make out I guess and suggestive stuff

♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️

Y/n was lying tiredly in bed, her arms wrapped around Vi’s waste.

“You did good baby, last Night i mean you really showed him not to mess with you i'm so proud”Vi smiled her Expression was loving as she was snuggled into y/n’s chest

“You’re treating me like a child pretty girl, almost like you didn't just see me Torture your ex” y/n smiled lazily her hand run through Vi’s hair.

            “Can we not talk about that, I’m too tired and we spoke about it already, can we just enjoy this peaceful uneventful moment? Just you and me all by our sel-“

            “Vi are we actually dating, like are we girlfriends “Vi was cut off by y/n’s abrupt question. What did she mean were they dating wasn’t it obvious considering the fact they had done ummm things…

            “What do you mean of course we are it’s a pretty obvious thing” Vi furrowed her eyebrows,”I mean if you want us to be that is.”

           “Oh well that makes sense I just wasn’t sure you know condescending the fact that I didn’t know I’ve never been with anybody before in fact you’re like the first person I’ve ever really liked in a romantic way it never really crossed my mind, romantic I mean but then I met you and you just…just changed everything, life was black and white before I met you, you’re the colour” y/n says her eyes showing nothing but sincerity “I’m sorry if that sounds sappy its jus-“ she was cut of by Vi’s lips crashing against hers y/n froze caught off guard by the action But she Melted into it her eyes closing as her hands cup Vi’s face fingers intertwined in her hair. Vi eventually pulled back from the kiss for air, breathing heavily.

            “Sometimes you seriously need to learn when to stop talking” Vi painted her hands pulling y/n down into another heated kiss they stop after a minute and a bit y/n panting just as heavy as Vi.

“I think we should go to breakfast pretty girl” y/n suggested softly.

“You’re always thinking about food aren’t you?” Vi chuckled resting her head on y/n shoulder “yeah you’re right though I’m hungry too baby”

♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️

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@its-e-2222

[cha-melodius]

Fic Pride Weekend

Rules: Post your favourite line or passage from as many of your published works as you’d like. Let yourself feel proud of your creations! Tag as many people as you post snippets, so your fellow fic friends can be proud, too.

@kiwiana-writes tagged me for "Fic Pride Friday" but let's face it, no one is actually doing this on a Friday anymore and Fic Pride should go the whole weekend.

So I decided to try to give some superlatives—my favorite action sequence, my favorite kiss, my favorite love confession, my favorite comedy moment, etc etc. But the problem was I came up with a LOT of superlatives! Oh well. A few up top, and the rest below the cut. Oh, and there are some spoilers below, so be warned!

Favorite Shouted Love Confession: Love is a Losing Game

“Then what, Illya?” Napoleon demands sharply, frustration heating his face. “What exactly was the problem?” “I love you, Napoleon!” Illya nearly shouts, the words ringing loudly in quiet of the club, and the silence that follows is only broken by Illya’s ragged breaths as Napoleon stares at him in shock. Illya closes his eyes, as if trying to steady himself, and when he opens them again the raw vulnerability in them is startling. “I love you,” he says again, with something like resignation in his voice, “and when they told me you quit I thought I would never see you again, and— and that was not something I could bear.”

Favorite Action Sequence (Duo): This Hell of a Season

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the headlamp rapidly approaching. He’s not sure if it will be fast enough. Henry watches as the dark shape of the man, little more than a shadow under the meagre moonlight, shifts slightly out from behind the hedges again. A few more shots, fired near where the shadow lurks, buys Henry some time, but Alex’s approach feels impossibly slow, as if he were travelling through treacle. One heartbeat passes. Two. Three. Four. The motorbike gets close enough to bathe Henry in a wash of yellow-tinted light; he’s now far too tempting a target, and the man shifts out from behind his cover again. Alex nearly puts the bike on its side as he skids into a stop, cutting the lamp at the last minute and plunging them into darkness. “Here!” he yells, and Henry flings himself in his direction, nearly blind after the brightness of the headlamp.

Favorite Action Sequence (Solo): A Good Man is Hard to Find

Pulling a rope off his belt, Mobius ties it securely around the empty window frame then measures out what he guesses is the right length before attaching the other end to his belt again. On the other side of the table, the guards have stopped firing, but he has no doubt they’ll be advancing on him now that they’ve realized that he’s not shooting back. He’ll need to stand up to be able to jump out far enough, which unfortunately means making an easy target of himself for at least a few seconds. He peeks around the table and sends a couple of bullets toward their feet, which succeeds in making them scatter and retreat backwards. Then, holding onto the window frame for support, Mobius takes a deep, steadying breath and rises to his feet. In the second before he jumps, the guards start shooting at him again and a bullet tears through the outside of his upper arm, but he barely feels it past the adrenaline coursing through his veins. He launches himself out as far as he can until he feels the rope snap tight at his belt, punching the breath out of his body. The line starts swinging him in an arc down toward the window, and he twists wildly as he tries desperately to orient himself in the air. Just before he smashes into the huge sheet of plate glass, he manages to fire twice into it and, in a rain of glass, crashes back into the building two floors down. The shouts of the guards are audible from above, as is the sound of running feet; no doubt they’re already heading back down the stairs. Mobius scrambles up and over toward the delivery entrance where he and Sylvie first came in, smearing the blood that’s dripping down his arm along the floor and doorway in a trail. Satisfied at the feint, he takes off toward the utility room and gets through the door, closing it carefully behind him.

Favorite Car Chase: The Hardest Cut (continues from here, hard to put the whole thing in!)

They turn again, away from the courthouse, and Mobius can unmistakably feel the horrible cocktail of adrenaline and dread that floods into his veins. Loki doesn’t answer his question, but his hands tighten on the steering wheel as he stares fixedly out the windshield, knuckles going painfully white. “You’re starting to worry me, you know,” Mobius says with a nervous chuckle, like it’s a joke. “Little heads up on what we’re doing would be great right about now.” Finally, Loki glances sideways at him—once, twice, then a third, lingering look—then he takes a deep, shuddery breath like he’s coming to a decision. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he swears emphatically, then jerks the wheel hard to the right, sending them fishtailing into a wild skid and down an alley that looks entirely too narrow. “I can’t do this. I can’t.”

Favorite Moment of Slapstick Comedy: The Makings of a Perfect Christmastime

Waverly, on the other hand, looks surprisingly unperturbed. “Oh, I know,” he says, incredibly. “Because what it looks like is that my war hero is playing home-wrecker to my star author’s marriage.” He looks pointedly at Illya, who’s mouth opens wordlessly as he flushes a deep scarlet, before his gaze slide back to Napoleon. “But that’s not actually what’s happening here, is it?” Napoleon’s mind is whirring as he tries desperately to figure out what the hell is going on, but before he can think of anything that might offer some kind of reasonable explanation, the door to the kitchen opens again. “I’m hoping that the fact that you didn’t come back to the room means you were getting laid and not in here cooking all night,” Gaby says as she comes in, so focused on the coffee that she doesn’t even see Waverly standing off to the side. For a moment, no one moves, until she turns with a mug of coffee in her hand, spots Waverly, and proceeds to drop it on the floor.

Favorite Wrestling Scene: Double Dutch with a Hand Grenade

Two can play, and all that, and he is not having this conversation on his back. Not when Illya has been seemingly holding all the cards to this point. He cants his hips under Illya—slowly, deliberately—and is gratified when his partner’s eyes go wide. More importantly, the distraction makes his grip on Napoleon’s wrists loosen. Napoleon yanks his hands down, out of Illya’s hold, then slams the heel of his palm hard into his sternum. Illya grunts in pain and surprise, shoulders curling inward, which gives Napoleon enough of an opening to grab the front of his t-shirt and roll them both sideways until Illya’s back thunks hard against the mat. It’s Illya’s turn to glare up at him, still grimacing. Napoleon has effectively reversed their positions, pinning Illya’s wrists to the mat over his head, though he hasn’t managed to secure his lower body. Instead, Illya’s legs are wrapped around his waist, preventing him from maneuvering or getting any better leverage for a subsequent attack. Of course, that also means Illya’s legs are wrapped around his waist, which is something he’d been valiantly trying not to imagine ever since that encounter at the café. So much for that. Neither of them is completely in control of this situation, and it’s rapidly starting to seem like that’s true in more ways than one.

Favorite Emotional "Confession": Please Don't Let Me Be So Understood

“Yeah, I mean, it hurts,” he says with a nonchalant shrug he’s pretty sure doesn’t land. He wants to ask, ‘what makes me different? why are you friends with everyone but me?’, but that would give up the game for sure. Instead, he aims for something close. “Sometimes it feels like you’re more distant with me than with other people at the office.” “You’re right,” Henry replies with shocking matter-of-factness. “Casual friends are easy, Alex. There’s no risk when you don’t want anything more from someone than the ability to hold a five minute conversation over coffee in the break room. It’s different when it’s… someone you might truly care about. You’re different.” Alex doesn’t really know what to do with that. It’s quickly becoming difficult to tell where the lies end and the truth begins. “Oh,” he says, floundering a little. “I guess I can see that.”

Favorite Flirty Email: Class(room) Warfare

To: Alexander Claremont-Diaz <claremontdiaz@mcquiston.edu> From: Henry Fox-Mountchristen <foxmountchristen@mcquiston.edu> Subject: Re: your shirts Dr. Acerbic Cocky-Disaster I am quite certain you’ve never given anyone a break in your life. Regretfully, Henry Assistant Professor of What Did I Do To Deserve This

Favorite Seductive Spoon-licking (yes, I have more than one): All the Old Showstoppers

Locating a clean tasting spoon, he scoops a bit of the buttercream out of his mixer and holds it out to Alex across the top of his station. Their fingers brush when Alex reaches out to take it, and an image of Alex holding a very similar spoon up to his lips flashes through Henry’s mind. His mouth goes slightly dry at the memory, and that’s before Alex proceeds to stick the spoon deep into his mouth and draw it slowly out between his lips. Alex’s low hum, which skirts dangerously close to a moan, is somehow audible over the buzz of activity in the tent, and his eyelids flutter slightly as his pink tongue slips out to lick the back of the spoon in a manner that is far too seductive for their current setting. Who could have guessed that giving Alex a spoon would be such a massive mistake? Because Henry can see a camera currently filming them out of the corner of his eye, but he still can’t seem to force his own bloody mouth closed, nor can he hope to control the flush that is no doubt painting his cheeks a rather lurid pink, if he knows himself. The best he can hope for is that he just looks stunned rather than incredibly turned on by the display before him. “Ok, yeah, that’s good,” Alex says, snapping him out of the daze he finds himself in. He grins, and the mischief sparkling in his eyes is enough to make Henry believe he did that on purpose. “Guess you’re gonna make things hard for me, huh Wales?”

Favorite Movie Adaptation Moment: False Dichotomy

“Sometimes I wonder,” Alex says, staring up at the leaves fluttering in the breeze over the sidewalk. “If you hadn’t been Mountchristen, and I hadn’t been Under the Rainbow Books…” “Alex,” Henry breathes, a little unsteadily. Alex keeps going because he is, as previously established, an idiot. He can’t quite bring himself to look at Henry, though. “Maybe I’d have gotten up the courage to ask for your number.” “I’d have asked for yours,” Henry says firmly, surprising him. That does make Alex turn back toward him again. “That first day in the shop. Wouldn’t have been able to wait even twenty-four hours before asking you out to dinner.” “We’d never have been at war,” Alex continues. “The only thing we’d fight about is what to watch on Saturday night.” “Only because you have terrible taste in Star Wars movies,” Henry teases.

Favorite Angsty Kiss: So Close to Something Better Left Unknown

Alex hesitates a moment too long for it not to be an answer. Henry’s eyes are dark and wild with primal desire and something else, something more terrifying than even that, and Alex murmurs, “It doesn’t matter.” “Alex—” Alex turns in his arms and drags him into a kiss that catches like dry tinder, lighting such an inferno under his skin that Alex feels like he’s the one who’s been drugged. This is a fucking mistake, he thinks desperately, then his mind goes blissfully blank as Henry’s tongue slides into his mouth. It’s rough, demanding, as much as sparring match as a kiss, particularly when Henry sinks a hand into his hair and tugs hard, then bites down on Alex’s lower lip when he gasps as stars burst in his vision. Alex gives as good as he gets, though, finally getting his teeth on those sinful fucking lips and swallowing Henry’s answering moans.

Favorite Almost Kiss: White Knuckles

When he comes out of his last spin, Napoleon joins him for the final movements, an expansive trip across the ice that usually ends with Illya hunched over, almost on one knee, as if clutching an apparently dead Juliet. Now, though, there is an actual body in his grasp: Napoleon is underneath him, back bent into a graceful arc, being held off the ice only by Illya’s grip on his hip and his palm splayed between his shoulder blades. As the music comes to its grand conclusion he meets Napoleon’s eyes, and suddenly Napoleon doesn’t seem so unaffected anymore. He’s certainly breathless, all right, his eyes wide and his lips slightly parted, and it would be so easy for Illya to flex his arms and draw him upward until their lips meet. Illya considers it a true testament to his self control that he doesn’t do it. “Wow,” Napoleon breathes, after a long moment in which he has made no move to disentangle himself from Illya. Then one corner of his mouth quirks upward into a smirk. “Now that’s more like it.” It is also a testament to Illya’s self control that he doesn’t drop him on the ice.

Favorite Cliffhanger: Nova, Baby

A couple of officers with red crosses on their helmets hurry forward as Raf grabs Alex’s arm and tries to pull him to the side. Somewhere deep inside, Alex knows that he has to let go, that Henry’s only hope is the medical team. The panic choking him has fully taken over now, though, and he only clutches Henry more tightly to his chest. “N-no, Raf, please,” he pleads. “You have to let go of him, kid.” “No, no, I can’t, I can’t—“ “Alex! Look at me!” Raf commands sharply. The order catches Alex full in the chest and he responds instinctively, his gaze snapping up to meet dark, worried eyes. A face much like his own, but lined and careworn after years at the agency. A face that has seen more than its share of hopeless situations. A face that is telling Alex, now, to trust him. “You have to,” Raf says again, his voice gentle but firm. Alex lets go.

Favorite First Meeting: Cold Light

“That doesn’t sound good,” the man replies as he straightens up again. Whatever he was doing he seems to be done with, even though he hasn’t touched a thing. He stares up at the sky for a moment, as if lost in thought; in the silence that follows, Mobius watches ribbons of what’s shaping up to be a rather spectacular display of the aurora borealis begin winding their way across the night’s sky behind him. “So? What do you think?” “Hm?” “About the engine.” “Oh, I don’t actually know anything about engines.” Mobius stares at him for a beat in disbelief. “Then why’d you want to see it?” The man shrugs, a vaguely amused expression playing on his features. “Seemed like a thing one does when your vehicle breaks down.”

Favorite Outsider Perspective: That's What Other People Do

“You know me so well, Peril,” Solo says to him before taking a huge bite. He briefly looks, somewhat bizarrely, like a chipmunk. “I know you are somehow always hungry,” Kuryakin returns. “And you get as excited about greasy diner food as gourmet restaurant.” Solo swallows and grins broadly. “Sometimes there’s nothing better than greasy diner food. If I’m gonna have to go to Jersey for this mission, I might as well indulge. Gimme some of your milkshake, would you?” Kuryakin lets out a put-upon sigh, but his mouth is unmistakably tugging up at the corners as he slides the half empty glass over toward his partner. Robin chews slowly as she watches them continue to banter about the food as if she wasn’t there at all. Kuryakin stretches an arm out along the back of the booth behind Solo’s shoulders, and when Solo finally polishes off the burger he settles back against it, almost but not quite tucked against Kuryakin’s side, looking immensely satisfied.

Favorite Angsty Confrontation: Little by Little

“How many have there been?” Napoleon whispers. Suddenly his proximity is unbearable. Close enough that Illya could lean in and kiss him in an instant, and wouldn’t that just be the perfect cap on all of this misery? He can almost imagine the slide of his lips and the heat of his mouth for a moment before the fantasy threatens to choke him. Illya drops his arm and turns away, striding across the room as he scrubs his hands over his face. “I don’t know,” he says into his palms, and it’s nearly inaudible to even him so he knows Napoleon did not hear the answer. “How many, Peril? I mean are we talking a one or two, or a handful, or—” “I don’t know!” Illya bellows, wheeling back toward him. 

Tagging @orchidscript, @historicallysam, @leaves-of-laurelin, @tintagel-or-cockleshells, @three-drink-amy

@loki-is-my-kink-awakening, @nicijones, @justabigoldnerd, @magicandarchery, @14carrotghoul

@mirilyawrites, @eusuntgratie, @cactusdragon517, @violetbaudelaire-quagmire, @magicandarchery

@myheartalivewrites

So that's the number of snippets I posted, but PLEASE if you see this and want to do it, jump in!! Be proud of your fics!

[ky-yk]

tears of the kingdom (ayj x f!reader)

genre: fluff || word count: 1.7k

author's note: two works in a day, who is she?? anyways my kitsch obsession gave birth to my jock yujin fixation and then this came about so i hope y'all enjoy mwamwa

"zelda...zelda...where is it?"

maybe there was a god up there because the sequel to one of your favorite games of all time, the legend of zelda: tears of the kingdom, happened to come out on the last day of your final exams of the year. you'd been skipping lunch since the game was announced so that you could pick up a copy for yourself on release day. and now here you were, scanning the wall of small titles against bright red spines looking for your well-deserved reward.

mumbling to yourself, your eyes repeatedly raked over the switch covers while debating with yourself whether you should cut your losses and just ask the lone worker by the counter. which you'd rather die than do -- the only person you'd want to be talking to is princess zelda, thank you very much.

a certain someone didn't get the memo, apparently.

"um, hey," you heard from beside you. everyone and their mother could recognize that voice anywhere.

"you're y/n, right? i'm yujin, we go to school together."

of course i know who you are, ahn yujin. resident quarterback, heartthrob, and obnoxious little sh--"oh yeah, that's me," you ended up saying.

don't get it twisted: you definitely saw the appeal if she just wasn't so. damn. loud. your morning would be perfect: birds chirping, wind blowing, and food digesting until you'd hear yujin and her cronies pass the halls making way too much noise for 6:30 in the morning.

"oh thank god, someone who can help me," she sighed in relief. your curiosity was piqued: why was yujin in a video game store at 9pm on a friday night when jang wonyoung was throwing a huge rager on the other side of town (whether or not you were invited is unimportant).

"you do know there's someone who gets paid to do that right over there, right?" you remarked with a raise of your eyebrow.

"i mean, i guess you're right, but i could say the same for you."

how long had she been standing there then?! and how did she notice that...

"touche."

she beamed, showing off her charming eye smile. "well, can you help me?"

"with...?" you asked apprehensively. if there was anything you were known for, it was for reading into things way too much. your friends would go to you last for anything because of how much time you spent directing every little happening. what if i'm being punk'd and the whole football team is outside ready to burst through with their cameras and--

"um, my friend sakura's birthday is coming up and i wanted to get her this game," she pulled up google and then showed you her phone. "you know it?"

lo and behold, there was the cover art for the very game you were looking for.

"oh yeah, i know it. i've been looking for it here too, actually, but it doesn't look like there's any on the shelves."

"huh," she remarked with a pout. cute--wait, what?

"i mean, we could try asking the guy over there? you know, the one who gets paid to look for it?" i asked, looking over to the tall and lanky boy who sat behind the counter who looked like he'd rather be anywhere else.

she chuckled. "well, i guess you're right."

on the short trip across the store, your mind would not. shut. up.

wait, she knows kkura-unnie? but her and kkura-unnie could not be farther from each other on the high school food chain. then again, anything is possible: this is a world where ahn yujin could act all shy and quiet, notice me talking to myself, and look like a puppy dressed in her varsity hoodie and cyclers instead of partying it up with the rest of the school.

"excuse me, do you have this game in stock?" she asked the boy -- whose name tag read 'felix' -- expectantly.

"hm, we've only got one copy left though," felix replied after checking the stack of switch games under the counter and placing the lone copy on it.

you and yujin looked at each other, eyes wide, and going through your own dilemmas.

"oh, really...?" you asked.

"yeah, a bunch of people came to pick up some copies throughout the day."

"hm, alright. well, she'll take it," yujin said.

felix hummed in acknowledgement and scanned the game while you looked over at the girl in disbelief.

"but..."

"kkura-unnie's birthday isn't until sunday; i've got time. come on, felix is waiting for your payment."

you didn't even register him telling you the price because you were just staring at this girl. what in the...

"oh, i'm sorry. here you are," you said as you took out your weeks worth of allowance. yujin noticed your face scrunch up as you passed over $70 in cash to felix and couldn't suppress her little chuckle.

you both made your way out of the store with yujin holding the door open for you and the rest of the store to be met with a gust of cold, refreshing night air.

"are you sure you don't want this game? it might be hard to find tomorrow -- i mean, you saw how this was the last copy they had in stock..." you turned your body to face her, arms flailing about as you spoke. all you were met with was an easy smile from the star quarterback.

"don't sweat it, y/n. i saw that you really wanted it and besides, my presence is enough of a gift for kkura-unnie, don't you think? she'll understand," she replied cheekily, causing you to roll your eyes in response.

"anyways, i'll get going, bye yujin!"

"wait! do you need a ride home? it's pretty late, don't you think?"

"don't sweat it, yujinnie," you turned her words around on her. "my house isn't much farther from here."

"don't you live nearby wonyoungie?"

"yes...? how'd you know that?"

"i've been known to be observant," she replied nonchalantly.

"is that just code for 'stalker' or..."

"yah!" exasperated at the accusation, she hit your shoulder.

"i'm kidding, i'm kidding, god did you have to hit me?!"

her eyes went wide in worry. " i am so s--"

"stalker, violent, man, wait until the school hears the truth about their resident heartthrob," you joked, trying to ease her worries, which seems to have worked when you saw her shoulders relax and her trademark smile take over her features.

"anyways, let me give you a ride home. i was going to go over to wonyoung's anyways," she said.

"if you insist," you replied.

quietly, you both made your way over to her car. she opened the door for you before making her way over to the driver's side, the action making you raise your eyebrows before getting inside. she turned on the ignition and reminded you to put your seatbelt on.

"i'm not an idiot," you rolled your eyes.

"better safe than sorry, y/n. i wouldn't want your blood on my hands."

your eyes might as well have been seeing the back of your skull with how much you'd been rolling your eyes at the girl. when she heard the buckle click, she started making her way out of the parking lot and onto the main road.

around strangers, you were usually reserved. you pretty much just flew around the school like a ghost, doing your own things with no one minding you. it took a while for you to get talkative.

it took one night for ahn yujin. what can you say, the girl was interesting.

"i'm curious, how do you know kkura-unnie?"

"oh, we go to the same dance class every weekend."

she dances?! "you dance?!"

"is that so surprising?" she spared you a glance before focusing back on the road. she's got precious cargo after a--what?

"kinda, yeah. i'm learning a lot about you, ahn yujin."

"only good things, i'm hoping."

"very good things, yujinnie."

after talking about anything and everything, you realized she'd already pulled up to the front of your house.

"well, here you are."

"oh. alright," you replied, the disappointment evident in your tone. you were about to open the door when yujin spoke up.

"hey, i don't know about you, but i had a lot of fun, y/n. if you're down, do you wanna hang out again...?" she looked over at you like she was preparing for the worst.

all you gave her was a small smile. "i'd love to, yujinnie."

her entire face brightened up and then she grabbed a marker from her glove compartment. you just stared at her as she grabbed your hand and wrote her phone number down, your face heating up slowly but surely.

"text me, okay?"

"alright, yujinnie. go enjoy your party!" you said as you walked out and closed the door.

"and go enjoy your game, y/n. good night!" she called out and waited for you to go inside your house before driving off.

6 months later...

your morning could not have gotten any worse. you slept in, skipped breakfast, and it was raining like hell. the rowdy quarterbacks were basically drowned out by the storm.

which explains why you didn't notice her until you felt a heavy yet comforting jacket resting on your shoulders, followed by slender arms wrapping around your shoulders. you looked up and saw ahn yujin: star quarterback, quiet lover, and your heartthrob.

"hey," she looked down at you with an easy smile. you smiled back, although it looked a lot more like a grimace as your lips formed a thin line and your cheeks puffed up.

"i saw your messages. i brought you a croissant," she said while placing the paper bag on your desk.

"thank you, yujinnie," you said while wrapping your arms around her waist and tightening your hold on the girl. past y/n would be screaming, crying, throwing up at this, you thought to yourself. she hummed before leaving a soft kiss on the crown of your head.

"i'll go ahead, but i hope your morning gets better, love. are we still on for later?" she asked expectantly. you chuckled. "of course we are, yujinnie. go now!" you said as you playfully shoved her away. she ran off, but not without sparing you one last glance: the same one that got you hooked all those months ago.

"eh?! you're dating yujin-ah?!" you heard from beside you. your eyes went wide as sakura's unmistakeable voice finally settled in.

this'll be a long morning...

[legallyacceptibleurl]

of the blogs that i keep track of, there’s definitely obvious cliques. all of them have posts circulate to all parts eventually, but one thing i’ve noticed is a clear divide between the american liberal zionist bloggers and the israeli zionist bloggers in that space. the american liberal bloggers are more concerned about respectability and here and there might even push back when someone says something more egregiously islamophobic or racist (rarely tho). this is not the case at all for the israeli bloggers, they will just say shit like “all palestinians are nazis and should be wiped out” with their whole chest and then move on with no repercussions

there’s a handful of bridging blogs which keep the flow of posts between the two cliques circulating, but they rarely ever touch the more genocidal posts or reblogs

that’s where i come in I guess, i am working on posting some of the more shocking screenshots and connecting them to the people who reblog from them

i love posting examples, let’s use this one

ID: screenshot of a post that @shofarsogood reblogged from @stupid-jewishwhiteboy

@some-israeli-guy: “I want to take a few minutes to talk about my connection to Israel, as a Jew. I want to do that because some people desperately need to understand this, and also I'm procrastinating on uni homework.”

the rest of the post is cut off by me. End ID.

i often use these two because it’s by far the most infuriating example. shofarsogood is a very popular blog on here and is mutuals both with people who would be incredibly offended at being called zionists, and also just fully unapologetic zionists. meanwhile, some-israeli-guy is someone who will just straight up say “kill all palestinians”, and it’s fucking horrible but from a purely practical perspective i can appreciate the honesty because it makes my job easier. it’s like a touchstone for the level of hate speech these people will tolerate as long as it’s on their side

ID: screenshot of a reblog by @some-israeli-guy:

“Beautiful! Kill them all and erase Palestine from history!” End ID.

so, how does a post travel from the “kill them all” side of tumblr to the “we just want peace in gaza but conveniently all pro-palestine advocacy is antisemitic” side of tumblr? very easily it turns out

it starts with this

ID: a screenshot showing @homochadensistm reblogging from @some-israeli-guy. End ID.

here’s what kind of blog we’re dealing with at this point

ID: screenshot of a reblog by @homochadensistm:

“1. This poll is from the west bank, or do you think thats a place in gaza?

2. BBC reports Gazans are fed up with hamas: uuuuch WhErE dA BidEO eViDEncE

Some rando with a tumblr posts about 5 gorillion children dying in a nuclear explosion in Khan younis:”

under the text is an image of the wojak meme called “Two Soyjaks Pointing”

@homochadensistm’s tags: “#gazans will be freed of the bronze age islamists who took over them via a coup #whether u like it or not <3”

End ID.

next is this

ID: a screenshot showing @stupidjewishwhiteboy reblogged from @homochadensistm. End ID.

ID: screenshot of a post reblogged by @stupidjewishwhiteboy.

@not-antisemitic-receipts: “"Genocide Denier"

Yes, I "deny" accusations of genocide levied against Jews by antisemites, be they from Jihadist Islamofascists claiming "Palestine Genocide" or Nazi Fascists claiming "White Genocide."

"Denial" of conspiracy theories is simply common sense, Period.”

End ID.

and then it’s… wait that’s it?

ID: a screenshot showing @shofarsogood reblogging from @stupidjewishwhiteboy. End ID.

huh. i’m sure that doesn’t mean anything

oh but i’m going to be fair to everyone involved. at the time he posted that post that went around, he hadn’t yet said “kill all palestinians”. how cruel of me to expect these people to see into the future

except you don’t have to be raven fucking symoné to see that it was only a matter of time

here is @some-israeli-guy three days before his post about his connection to israel

ID: a reblog by @some-israeli-guy:

“As someone with a relative who fought in the Warsaw ghetto uprising, my first reaction was being infuriated.

My second emotion though? Hope. Same as how everything hamas and the pro hamas crowd blame Israel of, they've done themselves, everything they wish for us, they will receive. The Israeli people love life. We celebrate life in spite of everyone trying to kill us. Palestine, on the other hand, is a death cult. They worship death and find no meaning in life other than sacrificing it. Palestinian society is based on hate and death, and a society like that will never win.

The nazis lost. The nazis always lose, and my relative survived and came to Israel.

#israel #jumbIr #palestine is a death cult #i/p #palestine”

there were also a couple tags in hebrew that i cannot copy paste. End ID.

hell, let’s take a look at the tail end of the post that got reblogged by everyone and their fucking mom

ID: “To anyone who call us "colonizers": These "ancient" Israelites don't just share a religion with us, they ARE us. We were expelled from our homeland, but we kept our identity, we refused to let go, we kept wishing to come back home. We were always indigenous to Israel. We don't belong anywhere but here.

And now they're are trying to tell us that some people with a name invented by Rome to erase Judea and Israel, with a religion and language from Arabia, who didn't have a distinct cultural identity other than "Arab" until a few decades ago, belong here more than we do? I don't think so.”

End ID.

[kaylinalexanderbooks]

OC questionnaire

Thanks to @elsie-writes here, @mysticstarlightduck here, @riverkaplan here, and @somethingclevermahogony here!

My previous questionnaires:

Robbie, Gwen, Maddie, Noelle, Jedi, and Kelsey here.

Carmen, George, Akash, Sam, Lexi, and Ash here.

Gabriel, Carla, Parker, Rose, Alex, and Ewan here.

Liam, Hye-Jin, Wendy, Wade, Issa, and CJ here.

Below the cut I will do: Teo, Niri, Jazlyn, Anathi!

#1- Teo

Do you believe in the paranormal?

“Sis, my boyfriend literally can heal a broken arm in seconds. You would not believe the shit I've seen Parker do just because Wade can heal him. Oh yeah, and Parker literally is an airbender. How can I not? If a vampire walked into the school I wouldn't blink.”

What oddly-specific T-shirt would you wear?

“This shirt that says ‘born to shit, forced to wipe,’ I want it so much you don't understand.”

Do you usually cry at sad moments or happy moments or both?

“Definitely sad moments. I mean, I would not put it past me to cry when happy, but I can't make it through sad movies, man. Not at all.”

#2- Niri

Where is your favorite place in the world?

“I have an easy answer to this. Carla and George have a quiet room in their house. I can go there if I feel too overwhelmed or if I want to be alone for a bit. The room also has good lighting. I like it if someone joins me, though usually just a few people at the same time. Otherwise my reason for going into the room is ruined. [He smiles slightly.] I like everyone in the Aequales. Although there is a lot of people.”

What food do you hate the most?

“I dislike pasta. Pasta is not bad. It tastes good. But the texture really bothers me. I cannot eat spaghetti.”

Do you like watching sunsets or sunrises?

“Yes. I 100-percent love sunsets and sunrises. I am an artist. Maybe that's the reason. I feel inspired. New day, too.”

#3- Jazlyn

If you could only wear one outfit for the rest of your life, what would it be?

“I would wear a tank top and shorts, easily. Why? Well, I think it would be fun, definitely make me stick out among the modest Utahns I'm forced to interact with. But also they show off how good of shape I'm in. And girl, I'm in good shape. It's hard to find pants for me, since I'm mostly legs. So why not show them off? I'd probably wear cute sandals, the necklace Ewan gave me, and my gorgeous hoop earrings.”

Who's the person you trust more than anyone else in the world?

“Obviously, Ewan. He is the kindest person I know. He would never do anything wrong.”

What's your dream job?

“I would actually find sales fun. I plan to get a marketing degree when I go to college next year. It seems fun to convince people what to buy.”

More Jazlyn: OC interview

#4- Anathi

Who in this world do you trust most, and why?

“... I guess Tyler. Kinda by default. He actually listens to me. Always kept promises, too. I relied on him for many reasons.”

What was your favorite place in the world when you were young

“The park. Where I could hang out with other kids. Before my powers kicked in.”

What is your favorite memory?

“When Tyler and I first met, we talked for hours. I would like to experience that feeling again.”

I haven't written for Anathi yet so this was probably only okay. Shorter responses are intentional tho

Your questions:

Tagging @writernopal @aziz-reads @mk-writes-stuff @romances-not-tragedies @little-peril-stories

@evilgabe29 @maggiekwest @chauceryfairytales @pluppsauthor @willtheweaver

@winterandwords @melpomene-grey @i-can-even-burn-salad @mysticstarlightduck @talesofsorrowandofruin

+ ANYONE ELSE WHO WANTS TO DO THIS

How do you make decisions? Long deliberation, or impulse? Logic or emotions?

What is the best thing that could happen within five minutes after waking up? Does it signal that the entire day will be good?

Is there anything that you find difficult that you feel should be easy?

TSP intro

TSP tag list (ask to be +/-): @thepeculiarbird @illarian-rambling @televisionjester @finchwrites

@nebula--nix @literarynecromancy

[thewritetofreespeech]

Hello I noticed that you posted something about Tsurune I love that anime and I was wondering if you could write scenario where Masaki meets his brother's photographer friend who shows up to the boys tournaments and he starts developing a crush on them.

Masaki Takigawa + Brother's friend

Even after all this time, and all the tournaments, Masaki still got nervous at the start of each one.

It seemed to be worse now that he wasn’t participating. The hopes and dreams of the students he coached feeling heavier than his own. His teachings effecting their dreams, but having no tangible way to alter the outcome from the sidelines. He tried to keep it inside though.

“Oy! Masaki!”

He turned at the sound of his name from a familiar voice. Seeing Ren waving as he walked up. Another person in toe. “Nii-san, what are you doing here?”

“I was in town for some reference work on a new book, so I thought I’d come and see the tournament. You told me about it over the phone, remember?” He vaguely remembered that. “Oh! This is [Y/N]-chan. They’re a photography journalist major at the university. They’re interning with the publisher, so I had them tag along.”

“Nice to meet you.” [Y/N] said with a small bow. “I hope this isn’t too much of a surprise, or disturbance.”

“Not at all.” Masaki assured. “It’s a public event. So all are welcome.”

“Masaki-chan is the coach. But he’s also a great kyudo archer too. And a great guy.”

“Nii-san!” Masaki hissed at Ren’s compliment, while he and his guest laughed it off.

“Well, I’m sure it will be great to watch. I wanted to take some pictures. For my portfolio. We won’t get in the way.”

Masaki nodded and his brother & friend went off to the sidelines for the rest of the tournament.

He didn’t talk to them for nearly the rest of the day. He’d catch sight of [Y/N] now & then. Behind the lens. Hunched down to get a better angle. It was very familiar to him from being around Ren, but he still smiled a little at seeing their passion.

After the tournament was over, Masaki came over to talk to [Y/N] and his brother again. The two already scrolling through the photos. “Did you get any good ones?”

“A few.” [Y/N] replied. Handing him the camera to scroll through himself.

It was only a few pictures in and he could see they were very talented. Very being a still image, there was still a lot of movement to the photos. An energy. A liveliness. He flipped through a few more before he came across a photo of himself. Looking pensive as he waited for Minato to release his bow.

“Sorry. I guess I should have asked if you were ok with your picture taken. I can delete it if you want.”

Maskai blinked and released the breath he was holding. Like he had been in the picture. He handed the camera back and told them, “no. It’s ok. You can keep it if you want.”

[Y/N] smiled. “I can send you a copy? Of the whole roll I mean. That way you guys have some nice pictures of your events. They’re not professional, but it’s a start.”

“Not professional yet.” Ren chided with a wink before he nudged [Y/N] playfully.

“I would like that.” Masaki agreed. Gladly handing over his contact information to get the copies.

“I’ll send them to you later tonight. Once I go through the bad ones. Just text me to make sure you got them. Or…if you want to grab a coffee or something.”

The blunette looked a little stunned before [Y/N] jogged off. “They like you.” Ren cut in, knocking Masaki out of his stopper. “They said you were cute.”

Masaki turned bright pink and nudged his brother in the shoulder. “Nii-san!!” To which Ren laughed, but still didn’t try to stop him when he texted [Y/N] later.

[blissfulalchemist]

WIP Wednesday

Been a hot second but I have not been too much in the throws of writing and have been focusing on gposes. So have some little pieces/ideas of gposes for the next month and at least 2 little writing bits I don't think I've posted before. Sending tags out to @belorage @florbelles @unholymilf @statichvm @adelaidedrubman @strafethesesinners @unholymilf @jackiesarch @shellibisshe @shallow-gravy @confidentandgood @leviiackrman @thedeadthree and anyone else that wants to!

To start though! a little game of Spot the Difference!

Then prepping things for crossover day for Febhyurary coming up! Guess who’s making appearances!

And speaking of have two little previews of Demos! and then have some writing below!

Have some Carly that was part of one of the ffxiv write prompts:

The sounds of metal cutting through flesh breaks her free of the latest victim and to the face of another, a woman, who shares the same colored hair and eyes. Watching and smiling as the blades sang their way through muscles and bones, the blood coloring the walls, and her mouth begging for her own flesh and blood to stop. Revels in the weight lifting as the number of breaths dwindles and anticipation building as freedom ticks ever closer. The laugh she can’t hold back as the chakram rests against her mother’s throat and Carly utters a single question. “Are you happy with me now mommy?” The gurgled final breath isn’t her mother’s but she’s yet to leave this memory behind. Inhales the metallic tang of blood and sand, the clang as she drops the circular blades, eyes opening to a room of varying shades of red and a clock that tells her she’s been at this for well over an hour. A calm as she collects some few remnants of her childhood that will lose their meaning after a few years, and makes her way out into a silent night. By sunrise she’ll have put enough distance to make it to the ocean where she will then fall into the water, hoping the salt will scrub clean her act of justice. Bounce between the choice of swallowing more of it or kicking her way back to the surface, question where to go now that she can be anyone and anything, remember that she didn’t even think to get something to sell, calm in the thought that hunger won’t be too much of an issue seeing as she was never granted enough food to begin with, and curiosity grow as a red glow catches her eye among the rocks. The same glow that brings her back to the present and she looks down upon a man that felt the need to state his opinion on how a young woman could come into such a position to make war plans with her heart considering she was a half breed Garlean that was no more a citizen than those that were living here before the occupation. A tragedy young Fordola wanted no part in delivering punishment, She muses as the dark glowing red crystal brightens as the man’s soul gets tucked away within, Oh well. Her loss is my gain in the end.  Carly looks up beyond the mess to an even younger woman, no more than sixteen, that stands with slightly darker hair, green eyes, and a body on the borderline of malnourished that’s clad in a off white tabard with chain metal arms, skirt that was short enough to allow freedom of movement, and scratched worn brown boots that were initially bought for a dance performance. “You don’t approve?”  The young woman glances down at the two bodies, “They were a threat. Not against us but a threat nonetheless.” “I do not question you. You are meant to protect afterall.”  Carly crosses her arms, “Then why are you here?” “You can feel it can’t you? Feel that there’s something coming.”

Then have a little Shadowbringer's Demos so spoilers there!

“Oh my beloved sapling, you mortals spend so much time looking towards the future, always preoccupied with what lies ahead, it should be of little wonder why we pixies muddle your vision with fog and glamour.” Demos looks up, wiping away at the last of the tears, “But it's so easy to see through such trickery. You were always able to see through such things, that's why I picked you.” “What do you mean?” “The way to see through our trickery is to stand very very still, think not of where you need to go, but where you are right now in this very moment, this time, and this place.” The pixie’s smile grows, “Looking at the present, living within the moment, seeing the world around you for what it is, that’s your strength Demos. It has saved you and your friends many times, it has brought them comfort, it has brought on new perspectives because you were never so preoccupied with what was to come. A steady heart and mind that looks towards the ground is one of the best ways to find the way forward when one is lost.” When he doesn’t respond and turns away once more, Feo Ul places their hand on his, “You feel lost and confused about your place in all of this, do what you do best and look at the people around you, listen to them, and you will find your clearest clue. You may even find your answer.” “The answer to what?” “To my earlier question of course; What do you think needs to be done? What would my precious little sapling Demos choose to do in this situation?” He takes a deep breath, “Must be the end of the world if I’m taking the advice of the Faerie King.” He chuckles when Feo Ul gives him a cross look, “Thank you. Truly. I mean it.” “Anything for my beloved snaeyak.” The two smile at one another a moment before the pixie’s eyes light up, “Would you want me to look at the girl? See how she fares and if I could offer any insight to the little snag in your thoughts?” “That…would be very helpful actually.” “Then consider it done.” Feo Ul waves, flying in a loop before vanishing without a trace. He lets out a heavy breath waiting for the pain to subside long enough to stand. It's slow going as he makes his way down the tower, unwilling to aggravate the light further lest his companion suffer. And it's not like he wants to encounter anyone else just yet, he doesn’t need another lecture when he already knows what he should do. “Demos.” Ryne’s voice is soft and timid with a matching expression when he turns to find her waiting at the bottom of the stairs, which he somehow missed.  “Hey kid, everything okay?” “I-I came to make sure you were okay.” She looks away from him, hands wringing, “I heard you fighting with Y’shtola earlier.” “Right. Look Ryne-.” “Is it true what you said? You’ve been taking on some of the it for Siberite?” “Something like that. It’s….complicated.”

[fuzzbuns]

You mentioned the chasm in your tags so I'm curious what your thoughts are on it 👀

Mostly just this.

But if i had to ramble:

Im not sure if u mean in general or just the fatui in the chasm but since thats what i was referring to in the tags and also what i feel strongest about, i’ll focus on that.

Also disclaimer: considering it’s been…. Oh my god its been 2 years… what… ok.. since the chasm came out i might be a bit fuzzy (haha) on the details.. MY CHEESE!

When I played through the fatui quests in the chasm i. I was distraught for a very long time. Katarina’s quest is so unbelievably gut wrenching in every way.

Summary for anyone who needs it but like i recommend experiencing the quest for urself: Katarina Snezhevna is an orphan from the house of hearth that is stuck in the chasm looking for her brother. Who is. 😬 probably dead. But all we know is he is missing. So then she goes to look for him. Only to. Also.. go.. “missing” super fun. Thanks mhy.

But what really is a sucker punch is the way Katarina talks about her brother and Lyudochka (you might know her from the fortune slip quest). She talks about how she hopes Lyudochka isn’t thinking about her. How she thinks about her often because its what keeps her going but the thought that she is also thinking of her, worrying about her, makes her sad because she doesnt want Lyudochka to be in pain. I had to stare at a wall after i read that. She doesnt know how to feel because if her brother is dead she will have to mourn but if he isnt, if she is able to see him again like she so desperately wants to, she will have to kill him because it means he deserted and well. Thats what happens to children of the hearth who run away.

Anyway at this point you realize the fatui down here are under the impression they are allied with liyue but quickly realize things must have went south considering they have been cut off completely from the surface. So I, after eating drywall about katarina, ran into the next emotional pipe bomb:

The rest of the ninith company. Or .. i guess.. whats left of it. 😬. 64… people were sent down. And only. 4. Remained. Aurgh.waugh. And it gets so much worseeee.

Summery: the final girls are fighting!! Or well. They are dealing with the emotional train wreck that is not understanding what is happening and being stuck in the Horror Hole. After holding the traveler back like a feral dog (THEY LOVE BEATING UP FATUI) you fail and end up beating them up anyway, giving them some food, and finding out that they have been purposefully cut off from the surface and the millelith is banned from contacting the fatui in the chasm and if they see an fatui on the surface, they have to arrest them. Learning this, Anton (the leader of sorts) decides they have to retreat.

So happy ending right? They leave! Not really. See Anton says they have to retreat but its not without push back. Even after learning EVERYTHING one of the other members, Radomir, IS STILL INSISTING THEY STAY. WHY/?? BECAUSE THE CAPTAIN SAID SO. CUZ THE CAPTAIN SAID THEY SHOULD BE WILLING TO GIVE UP THIER LIVES DOWN HERE.. FOR WWHHAAAATTT. they are still going on about how they are here to protect liyue and they cant leave even after everything so Anton snaps back that the captian also said they wouldn’t die in vain but 60 of them are dead or mia and if they die here it will be in vain. Radomir finally agrees and the matter is settled.

My point is: these people are miserable. They have been abandoned and left to die miserable deaths and yet they STILL say “if not us, then who?” Its. Like i cant even put it into words how it makes me feel. They are so desperate for their sacrifices to mean anything, to keep their faith in what they have been taught. As if starving in the chasm, watching the people around you get slaughtered, knowing deep down no one is coming for you, is going to mean anything in the grand scheme of things. God. GOD.

“Fuzzy you’ve been going on for so long but have yet to explain why they are there in the first place..? Protecting liyue? Why are the fatui-“ OH I DIDNT FORGET. I TOLD YOU. IT GETS WORSE.

SO WHY ARE THEY EVEN IN THIS SITUATION/?:

Signora, being the excellent diplomat she is, apparently made a deal with the Qixing. She got some trade agreements going but under the condition that liyue allow the ninth company to investigate and get rid of the horrors in the chasm. The idea is that any info gained would be shared between liyue and snezhnaya. There was literally. No ulterior motive. They were. LITERALLY. JUST HELPING. They were allies! One of the millelith even left some supplies for the company out of guilt along with a message expressing his regret that they would be enemies now.

“But why did the Qixing cut them off?”

Childe lol. Or well if you follow the line up, Zhongli and Signora. The fatui rising a dead god to drown liyue didnt really leave a good impression on them so they immediately voided all their agreements with the fatui. Awkward! Obviously, Signora knew about the fatui in the chasm (made the deal) but i wonder if Childe or Zhongli knew anything about it. Sad! Even pulcinella knows (its his men down there) and Anton literally says that he understands and doesnt object to him “dispensing with less valuable assets” in the quest for bigger endeavors.

No one was coming to save them. Left in a nation they were trying to protect that is now incredibly hostile to them because of the actions of the archon of said nation LOLLLL its such a tragedy. The entire time you are treated to the ideals the fatui drills into these soldiers heads and for me, this was the moment that i became unable to relate to the travelers distrust and resentment of the fatui. I understand it but i just. I couldnt feel the same rage ever again after knowing what they are told and what they believe.

When i confronted trofin in sumeru i was so. Sad. Because i knew something had to be done about what he was doing but i also knew how fucked the entire situation was. And then i accidentally let lumine KILL HIM DIED and i sat there like 😨 BECAUSE I DIDNT MEAN TO. I THOUGHT I WAS JUST BEATING HIM UP. but i guess it doesnt matter because if you dont kill him the house of hearth does when he abandons his post. And like. He knew they would. He knew it was over for him. All the fatui recruits we meet are so. They know they arent the good guys. They are family to each other and they know that these connections are going to end in heart break but its all they have. I mean. I guess thats why they are called “fools”.

Anyway. Big fatui head. I find them and their mindsets so unbelievably interesting but i feel like the genshin fandom… doesnt really like.. fully digest a lot of the info we get about them. there is so much focus on the orphanage and what they do as if its not a symptom of the environment of the fatui in general. Childe was also 14 when he was enlisted and never stepped foot in the orphanage and like.. look at the guy. He is so unwell. I didnt even mention polar star. Oh my god. Polar star makes me sick. The ninth company mentions it. God. Look at the lyrics for polar star. I have a google slides thing about childe where i pool all my thoughts on him and the fatui (its at. 136 slides… lol…) so i could ramble about them all day but like . I .. i have to stop