#Wrote this very quickly

[hischierhoney]

night out // a Nico Hischier blurb

1k words. warning for mentions of alcohol!

You’re at the 3rd bar of the night when you start to drag. It’s like a switch flips- suddenly your limbs feel heavy, along with your eyelids. The drink in your hand is suddenly far too strong and the thought of another sip makes your stomach twist unpleasantly. You shift back and forth on your feet, trying to steel your face. You’re not going to be a downer. It’s a night out, one you’ve all been trying to plan for weeks.

It’s not often that it works out like this- a Friday night, no events planned, and the guys home with no game to play. Nico’s across the bar, posted up at a booth, listening intently to Jack who’s talking animatedly. You’re standing with a few friends, doing the same. Trying to listen, at least. It’s just.

You’ve been having so much fun, all night. It’s been nice, to see friends and catch up and gossip, even nicer to let Nico pull you with him to dance. It hadn’t mattered how bad you both are at dancing, the alcohol had loosened your limbs and lowered your inhibitions. But now the music is too loud, the lights are too bright, and you want to be anywhere other than here.

You want to be tucked into Nico’s side most of all, safe in your cozy warm bed. But when you turn to look at him in the booth, he’s suddenly missing.

You nearly jump out of your skin when you feel a strong arm wrap around your waist, but the laugh that gets muffled against the side of your head tells you that it’s Nico. You sigh softly and lean back against him, letting the way he’s holding you close ground you. Maybe you can last a little longer if he stays right there. You take a tentative sip of your drink and force a smile.

He pulls away just slightly, and you turn to look up at him. You see the way his eyes trace your features, brown and deep and wide and scanning for something. Whatever he finds, he doesn’t like. He frowns, nose wrinkling, his gaze soft and warm. You tilt your head as if to question him. He squeezes your hip with his fingers and then turns to the rest of the group.

“M’sorry to be a downer,” he says, voice full of remorse, “but I think it’s time for us to head out.”

One of your friends whines. “Come onnnnn, we’re just getting started!”

You try not to laugh at that- three bars in, and it’s nearly 1am, you’re nowhere close to just getting started.

“I know, I know,” Nico says. “But I’ve got a bad headache.”

You turn to look at him, concern written all over your face. Now that he says it, you can see it- the pinch in his brow, the frown that tugs at the corner of his lips. You reach up to press your palm against his cheek, and he leans into the touch slightly.

Another friend tugs on your arm. “Okay, well. Doesn’t mean you have to go,” she says.

You keep your eyes on Nico. “No, no, I’d better go take care of him,” you say, rubbing your thumb against the scar on his cheek. He smiles thankfully. “Sorry, guys.”

You’d probably go with him even if you were feeling fine, not wanting to leave him alone while he’s not feeling well, but this is the perfect excuse. There are grumbles from the rest of them, but eventually everyone accepts it, pulling you in for hugs and goodbyes. Nico keeps his hand wrapped in yours while you swing by the booth to let them know you’re leaving. Jack gives you a funny look when you mention Nico’s headache, but he says nothing. After that, Nico pulls you away and out of the bar, eager to get home.

It’s only when he starts to laugh on the sidewalk outside that you realize he’d never had a headache at all.

You stop in your tracks, turning to look at him, eyes wide. “You lied to all of our friends.”

He nods, grinning. “You didn’t want to be there and you’re too nice to say so. If you’d really wanted to stay you’d have let me go home alone.”

And. He’s right. You burst into giggles on the sidewalk, shaking your head at him, before you collapse into his chest. He lets out a soft noise but keeps you steady on your feet, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. The night air is cold, but he’s warm, like always. He pulls you close, again, and you relish in the feeling of it. The feeling of being known.

“Thank you,” you tell him, sighing heavily. “My feet are killing me.”

“Mm, told you not to wear those shoes,” he reminds you. You roll your eyes affectionately. “Come on. I’ll carry you.”

The apartment isn’t far, but you take him up on it anyways. Partially just to get to be draped across his back, to have the excuse to press your face into his shoulder blade and hold onto him tightly. He insists on carrying you all the way into the bedroom, where he helps you pull off your shoes while you giggle and grin up at him. And then, before either of you have the chance to take off your clothes, he collapses on top of you, heavy and comforting. He lets out a soft sigh when he presses his face into your neck.

“I did have fun, you know,” you tell him.

“I know,” he says. You can feel his smile against your skin. “But I know you well enough to know when you’re done.”

You grin up at the ceiling as you run your fingers through his dark hair, relishing in the little happy noise he lets out. “Yeah. I love you.”

He laughs again, and presses his lips to your neck. “Love you too, baby.”

…

[gayghostrights]

my head’s caught up and tangled in those dreams

summary:

Arthur says John's name in his sleep, and John tries to make sense of it.

You can read it here

[transsextual]

feb 2, elle emerson (@transsextual)

text description under the cut!

[slashes indicate single line breaks. text description:

utah bans gender affirming care for people under 18. / south carolina is following suit and worse. / i'd cry but i can't anymore, not like i used to. / my girlfriend tells me they're so tired but she doesn't know why – / "i wasn't even doing anything today" / our anniversary is this month. / i feel like a puppy when i see her. / i get high and rearrange my friend's fridge magnets / queer sentences cover the freezer door. / "eat the skin and hearts of men it attracts dykes" / "i kiss fags" / "feel it up partner" / "you may do it but use condom" - / we laugh about that one. we watch star trek. / their roommate calls me cool; we grew up on the same books. / another friend of mine is taking a gap year to go to brazil, relearn portugese. / the boy i dated who is now my best friend is coming up with my family in a few weeks. / we're going thrifting together on the weekend, and i / am going to try to get an extension on my paper. / dance rehearsal on sundays. / my roommates want to go to ikea. /

my uber driver mentioned his husband when i asked about his day. / i thanked him for it at the end of the ride, and he laughed and pointed out the trans flag sticker on the dash. / on my way into the clinic i think i saw him crying. / i introduced myself to the lab tech and she asked me to say my real name. / she took six vials of my blood. /

so many of my friends are named after gods. / this has to be for something. 

[fanficlibrary82]

Pseudo Parents

Word Count: 1,571

Warnings: Other than the fact that I wrote this in 3 hours, none

AN: I've never written for the X-Men before, so feedback is more than welcome!!!

Professor Xavier had called you and Logan in for a special trip to recruit a new young mutant he had located in the middle of Nebraska. “After observing the young man's home life, I think it's best if you two travel to him specifically. I've been mentally nudging his parents towards a “boarding school” but I need a friendly face to make that final push.” He smiled kindly at the both of you, and even though Logan's eyes had fluttered closed with a soft huff, you could've sworn there was the hint of a smile in return.  

The first suggestion was to fly, since it was halfway across the country, but you saw the way Logan tensed and jumped in. 

“What if we drove instead, professor? It'd take us a bit longer, but it would give you more time to relax the parents and warm the boy to the idea of leaving home.”

Logan had silently nudged your knee in thanks. You gently bumped his shoulder with yours, placed your hand on his wrist, and ran your thumb across his skin. 

Professor X watched you both with a soft look in his eyes. Your relationship wasn't a secret, and you were both so fond of each other that Charles knew he had to select you two in particular. His family will feel better knowing that these two can act as pseudo parents in their stead, if only for the ride here.

“Very well, a drive it is. I'll arrange a car and find a few places along the way for you to rest. You're to leave at first light tomorrow morning.” 

You thanked the professor and stood. Logan turned his wrist to give your hand a squeeze as you left the office.

“Thanks,” he muttered.

“Always,” you replied, squeezing his hand back. 

X

The drive had been perfectly fine so far; decent weather, you had been put in charge of music while riding shotgun, and Logan had even been making jokes. But once you crossed over into Iowa, night had fallen and had brought a wicked storm with it. While you hadn't managed to convince him to let you drive so far, (“You know I'm no good talkin’ to people. I drive, you convince.”) seeing the turn off for a local motel, you wouldn't take no for an answer. 

“You've been driving for 15 hours, Logan.”

“And? Just means we've only got…” he glanced at the GPS. “6 left. We can sleep when we get there and pick up the kid in the morning.”

You sighed, ready to fire a response back, but the bolt of lightning streaking across the sky made your eyes widen.

“Come on, Lo, this weather is-”

A loud crack of thunder cut you off, making you jump and reach for his hand. 

He took it, deftly bringing your knuckles to his lips before he changed lanes. 

“Shittier than expected?” He raised an eyebrow and glanced your way. He knew a bad storm is what made you realize your powers. Knew the memories it brought back. 

He pulled into the parking lot and gave your hand a squeeze. “You comin’ in or wanna wait here?” Before you could answer, another crack of thunder made you jump and squeeze his hand tighter.

“Group effort it is,” he nodded, giving the back of your hand one last kiss before letting go and grabbing your bags out of the back.

You ran to the lobby, Logan not far behind, managing to only get soaked instead of drenched. The clerk looked up from behind the desk, clearly not expecting anyone. 

“Oh, hi, uh…can I help you?” He flipped his phone face down on the counter and gave an honestly half decent attempt at looking interested. 

“Yeah, we just need a room for the night,” Logan replied, keeping a tight grip on your hand. He was cautious in the best of circumstances, so a shitty motel in the middle of nowhere was not making him feel great. 

The kid behind the counter grabbed some paperwork and a pen, sliding them across the desk. “Just need an ID and card for the room.”

You noticed the way he kept glancing at you, and it made your stomach churn. So, right as Logan reached across the desk, you concentrated, just how Charles had taught you, and made an illusory pair of wedding bands adorn your fingers. Judging by the way his eyes flicked from Logan's hand to yours, he got the message, but you needed no room for doubt.

“What brings you two to Wilton, Mr. Howlett?” 

“Just passin’ through.”

“Oh, baby, don’t make it sound so awful!” You pressed yourself closer to Logan's side and leaned up to kiss his cheek. “He promised to take me on a cross country road trip for our honeymoon. Took us a few months, but we're finally doing it!”

Logan looked down at you curiously before noticing the band around your finger and his. He smiled, leaning in to kiss your temple. “I wouldn't've heard the end of it if I didn't, baby.”

The clerk nodded and hummed, clearly losing interest as he turned to make your room key.

 Logan huffed out a low laugh and mouthed Honeymoon? You shrugged. First thing I could think of. 

“Well, uh…congrats. Have a safe rest of your trip.” The clerk handed Logan the cards and gave you a tight lipped nod before returning to his phone. You gave him a smile in thanks and Logan guided you to your room. 

“So we're married, huh? When'd that happen?” He grinned, unlocking the door. 

“I wanted a summer wedding but you insisted on winter, so we compromised with October.”

He shook his head, stepping back so you could get out of the rain. He locked the door and you leaned against it, knowing he'd sweep the small room for bedbugs and burglars alike before letting you so much as sit on the bed.

“Who all was there?” Logan called as he poked around the bathroom.

“Only our friends; Ororo, Scott, Jean, Hank, Kurt. The professor officiated. Did you know he was licensed in New York?”

Clicking the bathroom light off with a satisfied nod he leaned against the opposite wall and smirked at you. “I didn't, but I'm sure it was quite the ceremony if you planned it.” 

You smile fondly as you cross the room to wrap your arms around his neck. His hands fell to your waist as you laid your head on his chest.

“What was our first dance song?” His voice rumbled against your ear as he spoke softly.

“The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face,” you replied and he hummed in approval.

“Roberta Flack?”

“Is there any other version?” You tease and tilt up to look at him. 

He rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Not one I care to hear,” he smiled before he leaned down to kiss you. 

You threaded your fingers through the curls at the base of his neck, smiling against his lips. His grip on you tightened as his lips made their way across your chin and down your neck.

“We showerin’ tonight or in the mornin’?” He muttered.

You didn't miss the we in his sentence, and pressed against his chest with a raised eyebrow. “You tryin’ to get me naked, Howlett?”

He snorted and pulled back to rest his forehead against yours. “I mean, if we're married, I feel like that's part of my job.”

You laughed and gave him another quick kiss before pulling him towards the bathroom. 

X

After you had showered and changed, you crawled under the blankets and Logan was quick to follow. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you against him. You tucked your face into the crook of his neck and slid an arm across his chest. Your body slotted against his side and he tangled his legs with yours. His fingers found their way under your night shirt and gently caressed your skin, and you both sighed as you settled in for the night, feeling safe and warm in each other's arms.

Despite only living a few rooms apart at the school, it was rare you slept in the same bed. You both loved your students (even if Logan would never admit it out loud), but they tended to get a bit out of hand when their teachers got into relationships. You had both agreed early on that it was easier to just be coworkers while school was in session. Which made a night like tonight that much more special. With the rise and fall of his chest and his arm tight across your waist, you were lulled to sleep.

Once your breathing evened out, Logan turned to look at you. Your face fully relaxed, eyelashes fanned across your cheeks, he felt his chest tighten. A long time ago he gave up on the idea of love. For a man like him, real love was near impossible, the thought of them leaving or dying before he had visibly aged sabotaged any real chance he thought there could be.

But here, with the rain finally slowing and the moonlight shining across your face, he knew there wasn't any other word for what you had. He leaned down and pressed his lips against your hairline. 

“I love you, baby” he muttered against your skin. More than you'll ever know. 

[deadlyflames]

Abigail + The Invitation with a Klonnie twist

Klaus successfully broke his curse in 1492 and, consequently, Hope was born much earlier.

She is the apple of her father’s eye and he does little to curb her temper nor to temper her bloodlust.

But all children, even the immortal ones, crave the love of a mother.

Xxx

Sorry Im late Klonnie fandom! This is part 1 of 3 parts that I have planned - spoilers for Abigail (kinda) if you havent seen it

xxx

Hope isn’t in her room. In fact, she isn’t anywhere in the compound.

Which means she is likely in the hunting house.

When Klaus arrives, he finds evidence of carnage throughout the decrepit house. He sighs in exasperation as he searches the grounds for his daughter.

He finds her in the library, drenched in blood from head to toe, matching the blood that coated the walls and floors.

It’s vampire blood. The blood of a newborn, and the stench of it permeates the room. He'd have to compel several humans to scrub down the entire library.

Whatever mischief his daughter was up to tonight, he was going to have a stern talk with her about playing with her food.

A young woman faces Hope with her back to Klaus. Much like his daughter, she is covered in blood. But he can hear her pounding heart.

A mortal woman.

Hope sees him before the woman notices his presence, and the soft expression on her face shifts.

“Father!”

The woman turns and stumbles back in shock when she sees him standing before her. Klaus examines her face and he can see she's a pretty thing beneath the gore that cakes her skin and clothes.

But there is something familiar about her features.

“Klaus.” Even though she whispers his name, he recognizes her voice.

He recognizes the fire that burns in those olive eyes, even as they are wide with fear.

This was the little Bennett witch that tried to kill him the last time he visited to Mystic Falls.

Seems Hope was playing her old games again. Bringing a few of his enemies to this house and hunting them down through the night for her entertainment.

In her attempt to back away from him, the Bennett witch slips in the pool of blood and falls to the ground.

A vicious grin curls at Klaus’ lips as he watches her try to scramble away.

”Not that same plucky teen witch anymore, are you?”

“Father, don’t!” Hope’s voice fades into the background as he advances on his prey. “You don't understand!”

”I can smell your fear.” The witch flinches as his fangs grow and his eyes darken.

“Please stop!” Hope yells, but he ignores her.

“I can taste it.” Klaus snaps his teeth and though the Bennett witch grimaces, her eyes begin to harden. If she needed to fight him for her life, no matter how tired she may be or how unlikely she was to succeed, she would.

Hope does not allow things to go any further and she quickly stands between him and the witch. “She saved my life!”

“Hope. Move.” His voice is low with warning. Despite his attention being on the Bennett witch, he was cross with his daughter. She never should have been putting herself at risk and playing these games with his enemies in the first place.

Hope does not falter and her face remains as hard and cold as stone. ”She was here when you weren’t.”

Klaus straightens. “I came when you needed me.”

Hope says nothing but she holds out her hand. When Klaus takes it, he sees the events that transpired. The scheme Hope concocted in order to get several former foes and annoyances into one place. And how things went awry when one of her intended victims, a siphoner, turned himself into a heretic. Half witch and half vampire. How Bonnie Bennett fought tooth and nail in order to kill the heretic and save Hope’s life.

Beneath it all, he feels his daughter’s pain. Her loneliness. Her desperate desire to be seen and heard and cared for by her father. The kindling of fondness she had developed for the clever and plucky Bennett witch.

And finally, she shares with him the secret wish she now has, hopeful for him to grant it.

As Klaus sifts through his daughter’s thoughts and emotions, the Bennett witch slowly stands from the floor with a wary look.

Hope releases her father’s hand with a pout, her eyes wide and shining.

“Can we, father?” she pleads.

Klaus sighs deeply. He never could refuse his daughter anything. Even after all these centuries.

“Very well.”

Klaus turns his attention to the witch (Bonnie. Her name was Bonnie) once more, and she stays resolute when their eyes lock.

She was only a teenager the last time he saw her. A pretty young girl, righteous and impulsive, who managed to harness the power of her ancestors and drive him out of her town. She has grown into a beautiful young woman now, hardened and weary, but that iron core of hers remains.

This witch nearly killed him half a decade ago, but she saved Hope’s life.

Bonnie does not flinch as he reaches for her, and he can't help but be impressed by her fortitude. Her bravery soon turns to confusion when the hybrid gently takes her hand and brings it to his lips. He savors the taste as he places his mouth against her bloodied knuckles. When he pulls away, his lips are stained crimson.

“You must be exhausted, love,” Klaus croons, and the softness of his voice seems to unnerve the witch much more than him flashing his fangs had. “There is a spare room you can use upstairs for the night. And a bath where you can clean yourself up. Hope will show you.”

Bonnie glances hesitantly between Hope and Klaus before she finally manages to find her voice. ”I-I actually think I should... probably go home.”

“I insist.” His tone leaves no room for argument and after everything that had happened to her in the last 24 hours, the young witch had no energy to fight him.

Klaus watches as Hope takes Bonnie's hand and leads her out of the library. She goes along numbly but turns to meet his eyes one last time before she is pulled out of the room.

[pupkashi]

satoru is SHIT at flirting and i know it

like he could easily make people swoon when he doesn’t try but the second he decides ‘yeah i have feeling for u’ all his game goes down the drain

he uses stupid pick up lines and stuff on u but always manages to mess them up so they never actually work

“satoru where are you? shoko said the meeting was at 5:30” you asked, phone pressed to you cheek as you continued to look for the sorcerer.

“sorry I’m just lost” he pauses, a smile on his face, his confidence through the roof as he open his mouth again, “lost in those eyes of yours.”

silence.

“satoru we are on the phone”

he is absolutely mortified and debates on just completely giving up, but it’s when he’s unaware of his actions and just being himself that he finds you staring at him a bit longer, giggling at his words and blushing.

satoru is shit at flirting, but god is he a natural fucking charmer

he’s holding the door open for you, offering to walk you home, listening to you talk, watching your favorite shows with you and remembering your favorite things. he picks flowers for you and gives them to you, pays for your lunch anytime you guys are together, he’s always making you laugh and giggle even when he’s feeling like shit.

he’s the kind of guy to always brush hands with you when you’re walking next to each other, he’s holding your things for you, texting you and sending you things you’d find funny or that remind him of you, complimenting you constantly but not in a weird way

he’s the kind of bad flirting that hears you mention you like something and then he’s like “oh me too!” without missing a beat but he’s actually never consumed a single piece of media of the thing ur talking about and spends all night learning abt it in case you ever bring it up again

he once asked you if you could help him study before an exam and when he realized that you knew much less than him he ended up teaching you. he was sure his luck had ran out and he had fumbled extremely hard.

“toru! i passed!” you grinned, holding the paper in front of his face. the 90 written in red ink in the top right corner made his lips curl into a smile, grinning right back at you.

“i told you that you’d do great! I’m proud of you” he smiles, not expecting your arms to be thrown around his neck, squealing softly as you pull him into a hug.

you’re only giving him half a second to process what’s happening when your lips find his cheek, your heart racing and you’re hoping that shoko really did know gojo as much as she claimed to.

satoru is stunned, his face is red and his ears are burning and he should probably close his mouth or actually say something before all his efforts are washed away.

“haha cool” is all he stutters out, he’s cringing insanely hard and subtly pinching himself when you’re staring up at him with nervous eyes.

“yeah cool,” you mumble, already turning on your heel read to lock yourself in your room when he’s grabbing your wrist and pulling you into his chest.

“can i kiss you?” he whispers, your faces mere inches apart, your small nod is all he needs before he’s crashing his lips onto yours, smiling into the kiss because holy shit i fucking made it.

when he’s pulling away from you he has this silly little grin on his face, clearing his throat before finally speaking up.

“I’m really glad you passed” he says, you can’t help but want to tear your hair out, what happened to the satoru that could make any girl swoon?

it’s not until after the two of you start dating that he’s back to normal, using every pick up line in the book (correctly this time) and making your blush like it was his job. he’d make you stutter and roll your eyes, so naturally flirting with you.

you would always make fun of him and ask where this was when he was crushing on you, he’d only get extremely red and start pouting, saying he was just too embarrassed because he thought you’d reject him.

a/n: hi hi back w a silly little drabble :P i don’t really like this much but i really wanted to post something so i hope it’s okay !! i think it’s sweet and silly hehe,, requests are open so feel free to drop something :3

taglist (send an ask to be added!) : @chilichopsticks @anime-for-the-sleepless @4sat0ruu @safaia-47 @nanamikentoseyebags @fushironi @nineooooo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @gojoshooter @sat6ru @luna0713hunter @torusmochi

masterlist

[wickmitz]

— THE ELECTRIC-FEVER REMEDY.

[zorosdimples]

kae.. bats my eyelashes at u… vampire diluc…

mondstadt’s wealthiest bachelor is elusive.

you’ve heard of his keen wit, of his business acumen, of his no-nonsense personality. his icy stare is enough to make grown men flounder before him, and greatly contrasts his irises, which glow and blaze like a fire. he’s more local legend than man; rumors swirl, spreading whispers that he can only be seen tending to his tavern or prowling his estate under the cover of darkness.

never in your wildest dreams did you think you would meet the wine magnate in the flesh.

but the local paper you work at is indebted to mr. ragnvindr. ever since he bought up all the ad space, he’s the only reason why the business is still afloat—why you still have a job. when your editor assigns you to write a feature about the businessman, you are told (under no uncertain terms) that the future of your journalism career will hinge on this piece.

so here you are, sitting across from diluc ragnvindr in his home office.

it took you weeks to get into contact with him. after sending countless letters and visiting both the winery and the angel’s share on a daily basis, your annoying presence was noted by his head housekeeper, adelinde. you had to do a significant amount of convincing to get her set up a formal meeting between you and her master; you made grandiose promises about the breadth and significance of this article—you hope you can live up to your words.

you shift uncomfortably in the tufted leather armchair across from your benefactor, his bone-chilling gaze almost too much to bear. it’s dark out, and while the room you’re in is windowless, you can picture lightning bugs flitting between rows of grapevines. you also can’t help but think of how unseemly it is for you to be here in the dead of night (though this was allegedly the only availability on his busy schedule). there’s a bottle of dandelion wine between you, two glasses half-filled with the carmine liquid, untouched.

mr. ragnvindr has an unsettling presence.

it isn’t that he’s unkind or cruel; rather, it’s his aura—thick and charged, almost magnetic. his hair is pulled into a high ponytail, a mane of flames cascading down his back. a high-necked coat, simple breeches, polished boots, and black leather gloves cover all the skin on his body, save for his face. his skin is smooth if not a little wan, a few pale scars the only imperfections you can make out in the low candlelight.

all in all, the interview goes well. diluc is polite, well-spoken, and thoughtful. he doesn’t scoff when you yawn in exhaustion, but instead apologizes for the hour of your meeting. when it’s time for you to wrap up your conversation, you switch gears.

“what do you like to do in your free time? in those rare moments when you aren’t working and have room to breathe?”

he contemplates your question for a moment before speaking. “moonlit strolls are one of my favorite pastimes. i enjoy the serenity of the grounds, the plants and nocturnal animals my silent companions.”

“would you call yourself a night owl, then?”

for the first time all evening, diluc smiles, his eyes crinkling. his lips pull back to reveal knife-sharp incisors that glisten in the gloom. you swallow at the sight.

“yes," he chuckles, voice full of mirth, "something like that.”

[ghost-proofbaby]

if it were anyone else (e.m.)

warnings: strong allusions to depression, disordered eating/rough relationship with food, mentions of smoking, description of a sort of panic attack. very sad. hurt/comfort? not edited.

wc: 1.6k+

a/n: this is literally entirely self indulgent and written entirely after i sat and cried and thought "i wish i had eddie here right now to hold me". maybe in like thirty minutes tops. this is for me and only me. go figure lol. sorry. yeah. anyways.

if you relate, my askbox is always open, and i'm very sorry you've felt this way as well. i hope you all take care of yourselves. drink some water, call a friend. be kind to yourself.

“I’m worried about you.” 

Four words that always manage to strike a certain type of fear in your gut. You don’t know how to react as he says it, how he wants you to react. You can only stare blankly, you can only wish harder for the earth to swallow you whole.

“What do you mean?” you laugh nervously, following it with a hard swallow.

You’re playing dumb. You know it, he knows it. The tremor in your bones and your numb appendages know it, too. 

“You’re…” Eddie stalls, licking his lips, letting his eyes rake over you, “You’re getting bad again.” 

You’re quick to shake your head, forcing another hollow chuckle from your chest, “It’s not that bad. I’m fin-”

“You’re not fine.”

The look in his eyes could crack your spine if you stare too long. Wet eyes, a trembling bottom lip, worry lines etched into his forehead that you realize might be caused by you.

You’re causing him worry. The last thing you want to do, you’ve accomplished. You’re on a fast-track to becoming a burden – the first step is always acceptance. 

You’re still unsure of how he wants – no, needs you to react right now. This conversation is a landmine for both of you, and you hold every breath with every step as you try to navigate it. If you make one wrong step, it could cause an explosion that spares no survivors.

You don’t mind if it tears you apart limb by limb. You do mind if it hurts him. 

“How… How do you know that?” 

It’s not a sarcastic snipping or defensive deterrence. It’s an unfiltered response of genuineness – you want to know the signs, you want to know what has exposed the rot this time.

And then, maybe next time, you’ll be able to better shield it from him with this knowledge. 

“How could I not?” he takes a deep breath in through his nose, and you focus on the flare of his nostrils rather than any of the tears beginning to gather at his waterlines, “It’s been happening for a while now, though, hasn’t it?” 

Your throat is a cage, tight and restrictive and ringing with a bitter metallic taste in its tenseness. You can’t respond with words. You can only nod. 

He chooses to answer your question more properly now that you’ve admitted it, “You’re cold all the time again. You’re always sleeping too much or too little. You’re smoking again, running yourself into the ground. Picking up distractions like they’re going out of style.”

“Hey, they might be. We never know-” you cut yourself off when your eyes meet his. Now’s not the time for jokes, “Sorry. I… I know. I’m sorry.” 

He’s right. Fuck, he’s right. 

“I want to ask you something, and I need you to answer me honestly,” his own steps across these landmines are just as delicate, just as feathery light, as your own. You hear it in his tone, see it in his body language. You wish your body could sink into the mattress you’re sitting on the edge of as he crouches in front of you, warm palms connecting with your knees. Grounding you. Tethering you. Holding you back from that sinking you crave. “Are you… Sweetheart, are you okay?”

If anybody else had built up to such a stupid question, you would have laughed in their face. You would have shoved those warm palms right off of your skin and you would have thrown up those ice cold hands of your own, shouted obviously not. 

Obviously not. I’m not okay. I’m so far from okay, it’s a bit comical. I am drowning. I am treading in freezing cold waters and I am barely capable of keeping my head above the waves. My engine is fucked, my tank is empty. I don’t think I’d even know how to be ‘okay’ again if you did manage to pull this mangled body of mine from these depths and sat me down on safe, solid ground again. 

You can’t say any of this, though. Not because you don’t trust him, not because he would judge you. But because the moment he asks the question that should make you scoff, you let out a sob instead. Something like a muffled, broken wail that tears from deep within you. It had already been ready and poised, laying in wait for a perfect moment like this one to escape. 

His eyes aren’t the only glossy ones anymore. 

“I-” you start, breathing already stuttering and chest already constricting, “I- I-”

“Hey,” he palms smooth up your thighs, carrying their warmth with them, as if he were trying to spread it across you. As if he had heard your thoughts. As if he already knew all about those dark, treacherous, freezing waters you were stranded in. All you can do is spew out another cry, strangled as you tried to swallow it down before it entered the atmosphere between you two, “Hey.” 

You only notice the tears when you crumple forward and he meets you halfway. Those warm palms, those hands so capable of safety and promise, cup your cheeks and his thumbs make quick work of swiping away the salty streams. 

“Hey, baby, breathe for me,” his voice is tragically gentle, “Just one deep breath, okay?” 

To demonstrate, you watch his chest expand dramatically, his hands forcing you to keep your eyes on him. 

You can’t see through the bleariness. 

“C’mon, sweetness,” he encourages again, “One breath. Just one.” 

If it were anyone else, you’d turn into a fit of rage at the coddling. You’d break everything in sight. You’d scream until your already burning lungs finally collapsed as they’d been yearning to for so long. 

But it’s him. It’s just him, it’s just Eddie. 

His chest rises dramatically again, and this time, yours does as well, albeit through stifling hiccups. You’re dizzy from the lack of oxygen and the flood of emotion that was wrecking you. 

“There you go!” his voice rises ever so slightly, and when you flinch a bit at the sudden volume, he retracts, “Sorry, sorry. But that’s it, sweetheart. Another one, okay?” 

Another breath. Another sob. Another wave of all the pain you’ve been battling off. 

You’re cold all the time again. You’re always sleeping too much or too little. You’re smoking again, running yourself into the ground.

He was right and it fucking killed you. None of those are things you could ever shield him from. You didn’t have the heart to pull away those numb and icey fingertips every time he’d reach out for your hand, or try to cover the shivers that managed to rack your bones even in the middle of summer. The sleeping situation had been spiraling, a pendulum of sleepless nights that would end in a sleep so deep that you could have been mistaken for resting with the dead. Maybe the smoking you could have hid, especially when you’d been so boastful about quitting. 

You weren’t running yourself into the ground. You had already collapsed into the dirt, you had already joined the worms. You’d buried yourself alive, six feet under, and nothing could have stopped him from sniffing out that scent of decay on you. 

The death of a soul and mind. The death of the thing that had propelled you forward for so long. No amount of sweet perfume, or hour long scalding showers, or minty gum to occupy your mind rather than a proper meal, can erase that stench. 

You never could have shielded him. He always saw right through you. Always had, always would. 

“I’m sorry,” you end up crying out. 

You don’t know what you’re apologizing for, but you echo the words again. Over and over, on repeat, until he’s rising from the ground. Until he’s sat beside you. Until his arms are suddenly encasing you and you’re awarded a warmth you didn’t feel deserving of. 

He doesn’t smell like the decay you’d surrounded yourself with. He smells like slow waking in the morning, dreary and calm and at a reasonable time. He smells like warm baths that only relax your bones, and don’t have to blister your skin in the process. He smells like three meals a day, all comforting and all effortless and that never linger with a sense of regret.

He’s not decay, never even treading close to death. He’s home. He’s the promise that you could be okay. Even if it isn’t right now. 

“Don’t apologize,” he murmurs into the crown of your head, squeezing you tighter into his chest, not even blinking an eye at the patch of wetness you leave behind from where your cheeks bury against him, “Never apologize. Ever. Not with me, sweetheart. Keep the sorries. I don’t need them.” 

If it were anyone else, the holding would have suffocated you. But it’s him. It’s Eddie.

You don’t fight him when he pulls you fully into his lap, situating the two of you comfortably on that mattress. 

You don’t know how long you let him cradle you like that. How much of that time is spent filled with your cries, or how many breaths he gently urges you to take with him. He never once has to verbally say what you already know; he never once promises aloud that it’ll be okay. He doesn’t put that pressure on you, not yet. Not today. Not when he knows the journey to okay is still such a long one. 

“I’ve got you,” he whispers to you instead, “I’ve got you, now, sweetheart.” 

If it were anyone else, you wouldn’t believe them. 

But it’s him. It’s Eddie. 

And he’s got you, for now and for as long as you need.

[im-on-speeeeeed]

This post contains spoilers for The great ace attorney 2‼️‼️🤯

Something I really like about Herlock Sholmes is his music. In Joint Reasoning, the time signature is in 7/8, which is famously the hardest and most annoying time signature to play in. In Herlocks deductions with Ryunosuke, he’s messing up, he’s getting things wrong, and overall not being very good at his job. The 7/8 time signature is a nod to how much he’s messing up in these deductions. However in Partners- the song that plays when Herlock is doing a deduction with Mikotoba- the time signature is in 4/4, the easiest time signature to play in. In his deduction with Mikotoba, he’s obviously much more comfortable and is staying on the side lines helping Mikotoba through the deduction and seemingly knows everything that is going on already. The 4/4 signature is showing that he’s finally able to get his shit together.

Another thing about Joint Reasoning is that while the strings are heavily included, the main instrument of Herlocks part is a viola. While in Partners, the main instrument of Herlocks part is a violin. If you remember back to Unspeakable Story, while Herlock is very good at playing the violin, the viola is a struggle for him. He’s struggling in the song where the viola is playing, but he’s doing just fine in the song the violin is playing.

A detective is nothing without his partner

God I love this game

[psychomusic]

so. I've been reading some posts on the jedi order tag AND i won't talk about my opinion on "are jedi good or bad discourse" BUT i wanna point out some lore to everyone who's complaining about the jedi taking kids into their order: (in the EU) it wasn't always like this.

if you take swtor era (more than 3000 years before the prequels) there were many jedi who joined at an older age. like, for example there was a guy who broke his engagement to become one. most jedi remember their families because they were old enough when they decided to go.

THEN in darth bane's book trilogy (circa 1000 yesrs before the prequels) there is a passage where two sith lords are talking about taking bane, already an adult, to study at korriban. one doubted him because he was too old, ans the other told him he sounded like a jedi, and that ONE DAY jedi will have to accept only kids into their ranks if they really want to find "pure" people that can learn their lessons quicker.

one day!! so it wasn't always like that!! the ongoing wars with the sith, who corrupted and killed many of them, had pressured them into taking always younger people into their ranks.

also, consider a thing that this video explains super well: training to become a jedi is not like exercising, because there is a transformative lesson at the end of the training that changes everything. you can't just do as much as you can, but not finish.

the transformative lesson, as the video explains, is that through the force, everything is the same - from rocks and ships to life and death. at the end of the training you have to understand this fundamental truth.

yoda says "you have to unlearn what you have learned". during times where they were constantly killed off or corrupted by the dark side (and if you haven't learned this lesson you are more susceptible to this corrupting), younger people were taken in to actually finish their training (a training that was ultimately about being a good person AND that you could leave at any point if you weren't sold on that, too)

(remember that for the sith failure = death. like. that was the alternative for force sensitive kids. it's not like sith had any moral problem with taking kids away without consent. sith don't have moral problems: they believe that them being stronger in the force means they can do whatever they want as long as their strong enough to go and do it. there are MANY passages in many different star wars stories, even in different mediums, that say this out loud)

AND (this is more of a critical thought than just stating the lore) the fact that they started doing it out of necessity doesn't mean it's 100% good BUT you know. the whole set up of the prequels is that we're starting off the story in a period of crisis and decadence all around. most of the systems of the times were about to fall. OF COURSE they had problems. if they didn't, we wouldn't have the story to begin with.

that doesn't automatically mean jedi = bad and sith are better, tho. you wouldn't take the last, chaotic and decadent period to jugde something, would you? it's like deciding that the athenian democracy sucked because people at the times of Demosthenes failed at recognizing the new schemes in which the world was evolving into, and still believed that their city would be important as it had been in the previous century. They just didn't fucking expect the Macedons would conquer half the world known and more, and have the subsequent political power. Still, their experiences in the 5th century with democracy were very good, even better than ours on many fronts, if you contextualize a little. the jedi had flaws, and most importantly, they didn't fucking know the future and everything that ever happened, ever, so they made mistakes. that doesn't automatically make the system ill, or bad, or not-working. systems can have setbacks when the world changes. (just like athenian democracy had one when they lost the empire that was funding the democracy. they even had a tyranny for a while and then fixed the problems. that doesn't diminish retrospectively their democracy)

[thekittyokat]

my partner and i have been fleshing out our coffinchain dynamics for a few months now and our ideal lawrence/strahm dynamic is one where lawrence has patiently been observing hoffstrahm shenanigans from afar and watching mark try his damndest to recruit peter into their cult with all of the expected methods ("pleadse please let me hit please please pleasee you're nothing i'm gonna put you in another saw trap i want you so bad") generally coming on strong with the beating the shit out of each other and then making out sloppy

& either out of curiosity or boredom or seeing strahm as a possibly useful asset he decides to toss his hat into the ring with a more "you catch more flies with honey than vinegar" approach. which is to say that lawrence is a master of the long con and plays it super normal and polite w strahm and talks about shared interests like books (romance novels enjoyer strahm truther) and sweets (they both have sweet tooth tendencies i know it) and just occasionally he slips in the odd little "oh, would you mind fetching (x) for me...?" sort of request and when strahm does it he leans in heavy on the compliments and he's happy to tell peter how much more useful he is than hoffman etc etc

and by the time peter puts two and two together and realizes lawrence is training him like a dog it's too late he's already been pavlov'd into enjoying this british fuck's company. lawrence has won the game of 4d niceties chess. strahm's literally sitting at a table with him for afternoon tea and little pastries and just sets the cup down and goes "you motherfucker." and lawrence just smiles knowingly and offers peter the little bowl of sugar cubes

[spaceiix3]

just one step at a time (Asmodeus x GN! Reader drabble)

Content warnings: physical self harm alluded to but not described. very very slight yandere.

Word count: 769

Asmo looked up from his phone as he heard his bedroom door creak slightly, taking his hand off his chin as he shifted his weight to rest evenly on both elbows. His beloved human stood in the doorway, frowning and not quite meeting his eyes. They swayed slightly on their feet.

"Darling?" Asmo asked after a moment of silence. The human didn't reply, eyes wandering around his room as they grimaced slightly.

"Why don't you come in? Come sit by me, please." Asmo beckoned them over, his tone gentle yet commanding as he moved to sit up against the headboard of his bed.

The human nodded, taking a few quick deep breaths before moving. They closed the door behind them after a long moment and disjointedly moved over to Asmo's bed. Asmo noticed they winced slightly as they shifted their weight to their thigh to get both legs on the bed. His eyes widened slightly in understanding, but he said nothing about it.

"Can I hold you, dear?" Asmo asked, placing his phone to the side. His human nodded.

The demon gently maneuvered their body to rest their head on his chest while pushing them to lay on their side, facing him. He watched as the human's eyes drifted around his room, looking around but not seeing. They certainly weren't asleep, but weren't present either.

Asmo kissed their forehead, leaving a slight mark from his lipstick. His manicured nails followed, mindlessly drifting to scratch against their scalp and cup their cheeks as he nuzzled against the top of their head. The same hand then drifted down to rest against their arm. He rubbed his thumb against it gently, calmly.

The demon closed his eyes as they stayed like this for a few minutes, breathing in the scent of the shampoo he had gifted them a few weeks ago. He felt the human's heart rate slow down as they laid there, until it was calm and steady again.

"Asmo..." The exchange student started talking quietly. "I remembered you said I could see you when I wanted... I just saw you were livestreaming before and didn't want to bother, so..." They trailed off, grimacing as they tried to explain their behavior.

"So you just tried to take care of things yourself?" Asmo questioned gently. The human nodded, tilting their head to bury it further against his chest, almost trying to hide themselves.

"I can't even go two months without... you know..." They sighed, feeling like they were going to cry, but knowing they were too emotionally exhausted to do so. “I just don’t know any other way of helping myself, I… I just don’t know…” They trailed off.

"Darling... you don't need to try so hard to fix everything yourself." The demon mumbled as he rested his cheek against their head, before pulling back slightly to speak more clearly.

"I know your... methods work for you, but they make you feel so bad afterward, too. That’s why you should let me help more. I can end a few livestreams early now and then, there will always be more." He smiled at the human, then continued.

“My fans don’t mean anything compared to you, kitten. I love my fans, but I’d sacrifice all of them if it meant I could keep you consistently content.” He felt them let out a slight laugh at that. He giggled in return at the sound.

“Mmm, you’re so cute. Don’t think of it as a joke though.” His grip on their arm tightened slightly. “Would killing off a few random fans help to show my devotion to you? To help you feel better about coming to see me?” He continued. The human shifted slightly to finally look up at him and gauge his facial expression. He blinked himself out of his slight stupor as he felt them move, then moved his eyes back down to meet theirs, his face splitting into a gentle grin.

“Sorry, hun, I’m getting off-topic. My bloodlust can be hard to control, hehe.” He giggled again, and put a hand on their head.

"But I’m really so proud of you for coming over to see me, honey. I know it's hard to get used to, but you did so well." He started, petting their head as he spoke.

"Maybe we won't break your... habits of emotional regulation right away, but we can in time. Just keep being good for me like this, darling. We can take one step at a time together.”

The exchange student nodded, sighing.

“Just one step at a time.” They mumbled as they sank back into Asmo’s embrace.

[deejadabbles]

Hold On Tight (Tup x Fem!Reader) Spice

Summary: Now that he's back on Coruscant, Tup plans to thoroughly enjoy you, all night if you'll let him.

A.N: Right after I posted this, I realized just how rude it was of me to promise Tup enjoying you, without actually showing it! Please take this full-length filth as my apology 😉 Reader is described as wearing a dress and heels, but no other descriptors are present.

Recommended songs for reading: Freak by Doja Cat and positions by Ariana Grande

This is 18+ Minors DNI!!!!

Warnings for: being complete filth (again), marking, hair pulling, dirty talk, praise kink (both receiving), oral (fem receiving), unprotected P in V, over-stimulation/multiple orgasms, cock-drunk behavior. Just, warnings for Tup being an absolute beast in general.

Your excitement was warming your chest far more than the few drinks you had at the bar, and who could blame you? Not even the friends you were out with minded how you left earlier than usual, not when you had received the message from Tup saying that the Resolute had docked early and that their shore leave was already under way.

Always the gentleman, he had insisted that you could stay out, that he didn't want to take you away from your friends, but you were just too excited to stay for longer than a few more dances. Tup probably got to your place awhile ago and you hoped you hadn't kept him waiting too long.

You knew where he was the moment the door slid open. The light in the refresher was on, casting a glow into the rest of the home, which was dimly lit. That made sense, he was always talking about how much he loved your shower, with actual water instead of the sonic crap they put up with on the war ships. He also loved the better quality of hair products and body wash you kept on hand for him.

The hum of the hairdryer stopped almost as soon as the door closed behind you and before you could get to the bathroom, Tup was stepping out in nothing but a towel, eyes searching for and spotting you in an instant.

"Cyare!" he greeted, that sweet smile spreading across his face.

His arms were already open as you ran to him, throwing yourself into his embrace with a joyful laugh. His strong arms held you tight, as you buried your face in his neck. You were instantly wrapped up in his scent, the smells of warm spices and woodlands, and a content hum left you.

He was home, with you, finally.

"I missed you," he whispered against your ear, just before his lips started peppering kisses over every inch of you he could reach.

"Missed you more," you mumbled into his hair, which was still a little damp.

Tup laughed at the familiar exchange, usually he'd say how that wasn't possible, but he was too busy laying those kisses on you.

"How was your night out?" he asked, and you felt his hand trail down your dress to squeeze your hip.

You let out a little hum, then finally pulled back enough to look at him. "It was nice, we hadn't gone out to dance in awhile, and it was an excuse to wear this." You wiggled your hips a little in his grasp, accentuating just how much it had ridden up your legs.

Now his joyous smile was slipping into a smirk, a knowing one.

"Yeah?" his eyes traveled down your body, enjoying every inch his gaze took in "and how many men hit on you tonight?" his tone was teasing, not at all accusatory. He was far too confident in your relationship for that.

With a smirk of your own, you started playing with the ends of his curls. "A few. Poor things didn't know they never had a chance with me. Most took the hint, but one was annoyingly persistent."

Tup's hand squeezed just a little harder at that, "And what did you say to him?"

With your other hand, you started trailing your fingers across the bare skin of his collar bone, letting your words come out slow, a whisper. "I told him that I don't like boys," your eyes locked with Tup's, just as you licked your lips, "I like men."

A hum that was almost a growl left him as he pulled you flush against his hips, and the towel around his waist hid nothing. He leaned in so his lips brushed the skin just below your ear, "Do you want this man to remind you why?"

"Yes," it came out as a breath, a breath that he caught when he pressed his lips to yours in an open mouthed kiss that was on the verge of desperate.

The two of you were moving in sync, walking backwards to your bed, while never daring to part your needy lips. Maker, you missed the way he tasted, and from the little moans he was letting out, he could say the same of you.

Your senses were wrapped wholly around him, taking in his smell, his taste, now you needed to feel him. Hands trailed down his bare chest, adoring every muscle and scar they ran across. Every bit of it was so, him, so Tup, and you loved everything that was Tup. The moment your fingers hit the towel, they were working at the knot he make to secure it, practically ripping it off his body the second you could, which made him chuckle low in his chest.

It was only when your legs hit the bed, that he finally broke the kiss, urging you to sit with a gentle push on your shoulders. But as soon as you were seated, he knelt before you.

"Been thinking about this all day," he said, tone intimate as he reached down, took your foot and started slipping your heels off with care, "thought about what I wanted to do to you, how I want to take my time," he lifted your leg and pressed a kiss to your ankle, "how I want to savor every inch of you."

Then his the tips of his calloused fingers were brushing their way up the back of your calves, his eyes following their progress with a hunger that made you realize you were already getting wet. His palms lay flat against your skin when he reached your knees, and they kneaded your thighs lovingly until they met the hem of your dress.

Tup got back to his feet then, and made you gasp when he scooped his hands under your ass and lifted you, just enough to pull the dress up. You felt the muscles in his biceps flex as he did it, making you want to swoon in his arms right there.

"I hope you'll wear this for me soon, mesh'la," he said as he started pushing it up your body, letting his hands trail in its wake, "but right now, I need to see you. Need to feel your skin on mine."

The moment the garment was over your head and tossed aside, Tup was on you, lips against yours again as he pressed you back, following you as your body fell to the mattress.

His lips didn't stay there for long, though, and you could feel the subtle shift in his movements as he trailed his mouth down your throat to your collar bone. He was letting his need come out more now, his lips turning more desperate as he started suckling at your skin.

Oh. You knew what he was doing, knew he needed to bring back the little parts of him that faded too soon whenever he left on another campaign. You bit your lip when his teeth came out to play, sinking in just enough to make you moan.

Your hands were reaching above you, grasping for anything as he pressed every bit of his chest to yours, and moved to your shoulder to leave a second reminder of his touch behind.

Finally, your hands just gripped the sheets, right as another sound left you, and he slid up to your neck for a third imprint.

"T-Tup, not there, I-"

"I know, cyare," he breathed, "I wont leave any where your uniform wont cover," a gentle press of his lips to soothe the already sensitive skin, "I don't need to show off, don't need to prove to anyone that you're mine." Another flash of teeth that had you bucking your hips, "Just want you to think of me whenever you see this gorgeous body in the mirror."

You were fairly certain the sheets were going to rip if you gripped them any tighter. His lips, his teeth, his tongue, they were working in perfect harmony against your skin. An almost violent moan left your throat when he bit down yet again, another addition to the marks he left across your shoulder and neck, his marks.

"Love it when you moan like that, mesh'la," Tup whispered against the blooming blemish, hot breath fanning over it like a feather light touch. "Love it when I can mark-" he paused and raised his head a little, eyes on the fingers curled into the sheets.

A soft tut tut noise sounded from his tongue.

"Mesh'la," this time, it was almost a scolding, "you know that's not where your hands belong."

Your throat was so dry as you tried to swallow, his words making the ache between your legs pulse. Just like his marks, you knew what he wanted. Fingers slowly uncurled from the fabric and reached up to him. With loving care you traced his temple, and tucked some stray curls behind his ear.

Tup closed his eyes, humming at the contact with sensual delight.

Slowly, you started threading fingers through his wonderfully soft locks, letting your nails graze his scalp, and relishing the little moan he let out.

The moan turned to a delighted cry when you grabbed the hair and pulled.

"Yes!" Tup's voice almost cracked as his head snapped back, hips jutting forward as if on instinct, and you hated that your panties got in the way of his already hard cock. His grin was wide, wolfish, even, as he looked down at you through half lidded eyes. "That's my girl," he praised, "so good for me, giving me what I like."

That's when he started moving.

Careful to keep your hands in his hair, Tup started at a teasing pace, lips now trailing down your body. Grazing between the valley of your breasts, nipping over your stomach, and kissing across your hips.

He was sinking to his knees again, and pulled you closer to the edge of the bed as he went, effortlessly keeping his lips on your body.

A flash of white teeth met the waistband of your panties, pulled it back, and let it go with a small snap. Then, he was gazing up at you again, that familiar haze of need and adoration darkening his eyes.

"You gonna hold on tight while I enjoy you?" His tone was just as wicked as his eyes, "Gonna use my hair to take what you want from my mouth?"

"Yes! Maker, yes- Tup, please," you couldn't even care how needy you sounded, not when he was looking at you like that, not when he was telling you to abuse his curls in the filthiest ways.

Tup's fingers hooked your panties and began dragging them down, down. "That's my good girl. Don't forget to use your nails too, I love it when I can still feel them on my scalp afterwards."

Your panties were tossed away as carelessly as your dress- then those lips and tongue and teeth were diving into your wet cunt without any other warning.

The loudest moan yet wracked your throat. You were wound up too tight, too lost in the memories of what Tup's mouth could do to you not to cry out in ecstasy. A curse dragged out after the moan when he used his lips to open you up, leaving plenty of room for his tongue to lap between your folds like a treat.

Not forgetting what got him off, you started working your fingers in his hair. A firm tug from you when his lips suckled, a gentle rub when his tongue stroked, a scrape of your nails when he teased your clit.

Suddenly, Tup pulled back just a bit, causing you to whine as his hot breath puffed against your pussy. "Come on, cyare," he growled, "I told you to take what you want, I know you can do better than that."

It was all the direction you needed, with your finger tips digging into his scalp, you pulled him back against you, burying him deep and crying out at the way his nose pressed hard against your clit.

Tup let out a delighted moan at the action, not wasting a second before lapping at you with enthusiasm again. His hands gripped your thighs tight, and you noticed his fingers digging into your flesh in tandem with the way you pulled his hair. The harder, the better.

You were griping the strands in such a tight fist that they might as well have been handles for your pleasure. Emboldened by the way you were holding him hard against you, Tup's tongue shoved forward, dipping inside you like your favorite toy. He got what he wanted when you yanked even harder than before with a scream of bliss.

But it was your turn to praise now, those words he loved to give and receive so much. "Don't know how you're so good to me, Tup," the sentiment fell from your lips in a pant, just as he dove his tongue deeper, "so so good! Love how you eat me up, love how much you enjoy me."

Another moan sounded against your wet folds, making for an interesting mixture that caused a soft giggle to bubble in your chest. The only thing Tup didn't like about eating you whole was that he couldn't give the dirty talk back. And with you pulling his hair to keep him firm against your cunt, he couldn't even take a break to tell you how good you tasted.

Tup was breathing hard through his nose now, gasping against you between more moans. That inkling of worry crept in, worry of suffocating the poor man who never stopped until you came, who joked that making you climax was a mission worth dying for. He wasn't tapping out, though, and the blissful groans he let out said he was more than enjoying himself.

It still wasn't quite enough, though, so with your hands full of his curls, you pulled him up just a little, dragging his nose against your clit in a delicious sensation. He got what you were playing at, and you felt him grin as he started moving up and down in minute nods, rubbing his nose hard while his mouth worked harder.

"Yes! Yes, just like that- oh! Tup, you're so goooood to me!" Your nails were gripping in deep, as if they were anchors to hold your pleasure in place while you chased it and god did you love the sounds he was making: delighting in your delight!

Waves of pleasure rolled through your body with every press of his nose and swipe of his tongue. As much as you loved looking down at him, on his knees and buried between your legs, you couldn't help but squeeze your eyes shut at the euphoria he was causing. Oh- oh! Just a little harder-

You pulled his hair rougher than ever and threw your head back with a scream, rutting against his face as if you were a needy virgin again!

He ate it up like candy, his whole body shuddering as he continued to mouth your pussy.

The aftershock of your orgasm was already sending you, and feeling him still going at it made tears spring to your eyes. With your chest heaving hard, you tried to make sense of the heavenly haze clouding your mind. Tup had taken such good care of you, your first thought was to take care of him in turn.

Your hands started massaging his scalp, tender and soft, a silent thank you, a listless reward. He let out another sound at the caring act, this one long, drawn out, and high pitched; content.

Or, so you thought.

You still hadn't recovered from the waves of coming the first time, but Tup was already on the move. He finally came up for air, rising from his knees and letting your hands fall from his hair to land limp beside your head. Your eyes fluttered open to look up at him with a smile. He returned it, all sweet, seemingly innocent, with his hair in his face as he gripped your thighs.

"I think you're ready, mesh'la," was the only warning you got before he pulled your legs towards him and buried himself inside you fast and deep.

Another throat-rending sound came out of you as he started a merciless pace immediately. He wasn't one to forgo intimacy, though, and ran his hands from your thighs all the way up your body as he leaned down. Stray curls tickled your face as he braced himself on his forearms, caging you, and taking your hands in his.

"That was your first climax, my sweet girl," he whispered, still grinning at you like a love-struck boy, "think I'm gonna try for at least three tonight."

You tried to pant out the number, astonished by his commitment, but the sensation of his cock pumping in and out of you made the word die in the air. Instead, you managed a whimper that might have been 'maker' or 'by the force' or some other ethereal power you only ever prayed to when Tup was taking you like an animal in heat.

"Wanna make you feel so good," he continued, lacing his fingers with yours tenderly, a startling contrast to bruising pace of his hips, "wanna remind you why you wait for me, why I'm the only man who can have you like this."

If there was any part of you that wasn't in the throws of an overstimulated high, you would have told him that this was only part of it. That there was so much more of him to love than his talented mouth and big cock. But right now, all you could pull together was a breathy "love you, Tup," which caused him to crashed his lips against yours again.

His face was still an absolute mess from eating you out, but you only moaned against the contact, his hips never letting up as they drove home hard.

The kiss didn't last long, and when he broke it, he started kissing downward. All the way down to those still sore hickeys at your throat. The way his teeth and lips played on the tender skin, combined with the aching between your legs was too much! You felt it slam into your body like his hips: hard and relentless and so fast it ran you over like a speederbike.

You gripped his hands tight, writhing under him as the orgasm caused the sheen of tears to roll out from the corners of your eyes. And he never stopped. Tup never let the pace of his hips slow, even as he cooed at the sight of you coming undone again.

"Oh, my sweet cyare," he kissed your temple, collecting the stray tears on his lips, "that's two. You're taking me so well, love the way you look like this, gonna make you feel amazing."

You were sure he was pounding your soul right out of your body, because you were only vaguely aware that he moved to the other side of your face, kissing those tears away with care before he leaned back a little. His fingers finally untangled from yours, only to reach down and grip your thighs again. He held them for a few more of those rough thrusts, but clearly had other plans as he lifted them both, moving your body just where he wanted it.

You had to clamp your hand over your mouth to keep in another sobbing moan at the feel of this new angle, his cock going devastatingly deep. Again you were struggling to make sense of anything that wasn't the sensation of him, but you thought you felt him scramble for something above your head.

Next thing you knew those strong arms were lifting your hips again, so he could slide something soft and plush under your back.

Oh, he had grabbed a pillow for you.

"There you go, sweetheart," he said with sugary devotion, "I need you to be comfortable while I make you forget everything that isn't my cock."

Those words alone made you sing for him again, especially with the love sick way he was looking down at you, like he had forgotten everything that wasn't you and your pleasure. The pillow helped, raising you up to better meet his thrusts blow for blow. Despite a part of you begging for the over stimulation to stop, a larger part of you couldn't help but buck into him with every thrust.

You willed your arms to move, to reach up and tangle your fingers in his hair again. He hummed in pleasure when you pulled him down for a sloppy kiss, then he gasped, delighted when you mumbled, "already the only thing I can think about." You sounded drunk, high even, but you didn't care, not when he was like this.

Maker, what had you done to deserve this attentive adonis of a man?

Tup groaned at the lazy way you were kneading his hair and scalp, "Cyare, my beautiful perfect girl, keep doing that- Oh! I'm about to come- come with me cyar'ika!"

He slid his hand between your bodies, keeping his eyes on you as his fingers found your clit. Tup placed his fingertips right above the sensitive spot and pressed, pushing so it met the plunge of his hips.

"Want you to scream," he sounded drunk now, eyes barely keeping from rolling to the back of his head, "want you to scream my name this time, can you do that for me?"

You nodded, not trusting your voice as he took you with shallow desperate thrusts. You could feel it again, the coil tightening, your body pathetically easy to handle in the throws of this much pleasure, and Tup was sure to get what he wanted. Two fingers rubbed right where you loved it, keeping his control there even as he lost it in his hips.

Your body seized up, stilling as it felt another climax creeping in-

"Tight! So tight!"

-and you made sure to dig your nails in again as he gave a stuttering cry above you. That was all he needed, and you felt him fill you, hot and wet, causing your own peak of bliss!

"Tup!"

It was more of a wail than a scream, but he didn't seem to mind as he filled you to the brim, keeping himself balls deep so you had to take it.

His eyes were closed, chest heaving, hair tumbling loose from your grip to fall in his face. The stray curls swayed in front of his lips with every heavy breath he let out, leaving him looking disheveled and delicious.

Then his eyes snapped open, meeting your gaze through the curtain of curls as his wicked grin spread back into place. "That was three, sweetheart," he panted, obviously pleased with himself.

Finally, Tup let himself collapse, scooting both of your bodies a little further up the bed before he fell to your side, curls fanning around him, eyes closed, and breathing still not quite under control.

His hands rubbed up and down your body, wanting to soothe you, needing to feel you. Every inch of you seemed to ache, but you reveled in the feeling, reveled in the phantom sensations of his hands and lips and cock all over your body.

Tentative lips pressed against your shoulder, "I wasn't too rough, was I?" his eyes were still closed, basking in his own bliss even as he tried to make sure you were okay.

"No," you breathed, hands groping for his and when you found them, you brought his fingers to your lips and kissed them, "No, never, Tup. I just- I just need a minute for my soul to come back to my body."

He laughed at that and snuggled closer to your side, "You really know how to compliment a guy, mesh'la."

"Oh, I haven't even gotten started with them, just you wait. When I can make a coherent though, 'm going to give you aallll the praises."

Both of you were quickly dissolving into delirious fits of giggles and laughter, even as Tup gave you another quick kiss, and grabbed your hands.

Maker where did he get all this energy? you thought as he rose up, urging you to follow him. Guess it comes with all those genetic modifications, lucky me.

He lifted you to your feet with that gentle smile of his, "Come on, cyar'ika, lets go take a shower together."

"But you've already taken a shower," you giggled as he pulled you.

There was that teasing look again, the one that crinkled the corners of his eyes. "I did, but I need another one after everything you did to me!"

"Everything I did to you?!" you swatted his shoulder with a laugh.

Just as you passed the door to the fresher, he pulled you closer to him, chuckling as he pressed a kiss to your ear, "I can still feel the mess you made of my face, cyare. So, yeah, what you did to me." Another wet smooch of a kiss, then he turned to the shower.

You hadn't been able to really take him in before, so you hummed at the sight of him naked and bending over to start the water. The dimples right above his ass came out to play, and almost distracted you from the glorious glutes themselves.

Kriff, you weren't really hoping he'd use your still sore body again, were you?

"There we go," Tup said as the water started, then reached back and guided you into the shower, "lets clean you up."

He stepped in after, standing behind you and wrapping his arms around you as the warm water rained down. You let him hold you up, let him run his soothing hand up and down your body, let him clean you up with care.

You didn't even realize you were moaning until he was whispering in your ear again, holding you just a little tighter.

"Keep sounding like that, and I may just try for four, cyar'ika."

I'm just going to tag all the darlings who seemed to like the original post <;3 @blueink-bluesoul @dystopicjumpsuit @sinfulsalutations @corrieguards @spicy-clones @anxiouspineapple99 @littlemissmanga @sunshinesdaydream @commander-sunshine

[regicidal-defenestration]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Doctor Who (1963) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Peri Brown & Sixth Doctor Characters: Peri Brown, plus supporting appearances from:, Sixth Doctor (Doctor Who), Yrcanos (Doctor Who) Additional Tags: Major Character Death, Major Character Undeath, Major Character Can't Die If She Was Never Truly Alive, Medical Experimentation, (as seen in Mindwarp), Inspired by Rosencrantz & Guildenstern Are Dead, i didn't fix her i just gave her more problems in an intentional sort of manner Summary:

Peri Brown only exists when she's being watched.

 -

Somewhat infamously, JNT made Peri as something for the dads to look at (paraphrased) rather than a character with motivations etc of her own. "Yeah," I said, putting more thought into her than he likely ever did, "it would be rough to be shunted from scene to scene with no idea of your purpose, reciting lines put into your head by something you can't even fathom, the power to stop anything happening to you completely removed from your hands."

ta-dah!

[isthatafuckinggayangel]

I wanted to continue this thing that I wrote for @cod-dump (hope you don’t mind me tagging you lmao), just kinda expanding upon the concept of Nik being Soap’s father and getting into more of the meat in the idea, so here

~~~

Explaining to Ghost and Gaz everything that had gone on between Nik and Soap, their relationship and all, was exhausting. The number of questions they had took forever to get through and made Soap think a little too hard about what why his mother had caused this.

At the same time though, it made him realize he needed to call her to get all the information straightened out here. He needed to know why she did it. Why she separated him from his father.

So, a few days after he had gotten everything sorted with Nik and the team was on the same page with everything, he made the call. He had both Ghost and Nik sit in on the call with him, he couldn’t get himself to do it without some support and he needed to have Nik there to make sure any lies didn’t slip passed him. The trio were sat around the dining table in the common room, Nik and Ghost on either side of Soap. He pressed the call button and made sure it was on speaker, holding it in his left hand still.

“Tha e math cluinntinn bhuat a-rithist, John. It’s been too long since ye called!” She answered the phone with.

“Sorry ‘bout that. It’s been quite busy out here, so I haven’t had the chance.” Soap rested his forehead in his palm and Ghost ran his hand along his upper back in a soothing motion.

“Is there somethin’ goin’ on, a chuilein? Ye sound a bit upset.”

“Yeah, um, I’ve been thinking a lot and had a few questions fer you, if that’s alright?”

“Of course, it is! Ask away.”

He took a deep breath then went for it. “Why did you tell me my da abandoned me?”

There was silence on the other end. The seconds stretched for what felt like forever.

“Well, that’s because he did. He made it very clear to me that he didn’t want to speak to any of us, and as much as it pained me, I knew we had to respect his wishes.”

Soap saw Nik’s fist clench out of the corner of his eye and looked up, seeing an expression of barely concealed rage. Soap set his phone on the table, reaching over and grabbing his father’s hand to try to help calm him.

“Ma, do you remember what he does for work?”

“…What do you mean, John?”

“I need you to be honest with me. Why did you lie?”

He was met with more silence.

“I dinnae lie, John.”

“Ma. I’m givin’ ya one more chance to be honest. I need you to take it.”

“I don’t understand, I’ve been honest-“

He let out a sigh before laying it all out. “I met him again, Ma. Ye seem tae have forgotten what he does fer work. We work together now. I read his journal, ma. I know what you told ‘im. I know you lied to both of us. So why? I just wanna know why you did it.”

“It’s a very complicated situation-“

“Bullshit. I know a complicated situation when I see one, and this is not one.”

“John-“

“Не лги нашему сыну, Elspet.” Nik growled. He’d clearly had enough of her avoiding the question she’d been asked.

“Nikolai, I-“

“You will answer the question the boy asked. You will not disrespect him or diminish his intelligence by acting as though you do not understand what he is talking about.”

They were once again met with silence. Ghost moved closer to Johnny, wrapping his arm around his shoulders and holding him against his side.

“I was tired. Your father’s job took a toll on me, on our family, and I couldn’t handle it anymore. The entire time you were away from me, every summer, I was so scared his job would follow him home and I wouldn’t know because you were so far away. I needed to have you close to make sure you were okay. That you were safe. I couldn’t think of anything else to be able to do it.” She paused. “Look at where that’s gotten us now. You enlisted for the same damn job and now ye work together. Guess it couldn’t truly be avoided.”

Soap was seething. While he understood being afraid for your child’s safety, he couldn’t get passed the manipulation. The lies. The fact that she didn’t just explain that that was the problem. He could have kept up with phone calls, letters, something so he wouldn’t lose his father. And yet, this was the decision she had made.

Nik squeezed his hand and Ghost hugged him a bit tighter.

“John?”

A deep breath. “Thank you for your honesty. I’m gonna need some time to process all that. I’ll call you again soon, yeah?”

“Yeah. I love you, John.”

“Love ye too, ma.” He hung up the phone and rested his head against the table. “Christ, that sucked.”

“Are you alright, love?” Ghost asked.

“I’ll be alright eventually. Just gonna need some time.” He picked his head back up and looked over at Nik. “You alright? Cannae exactly be easy for you to hear either.”

He gave a light nod. “I’ll be okay eventually, малыш. It will take time, as you said, but it will be fine.” He squeezed Soap’s hand again and Soap did the same back. “У нас все будет хорошо.”

~~~

Translations

Tha e math cluinntinn bhuat a-rithist, Johnny. -> It’s lovely to hear from you again, Johnny.

A chuilein -> my lad

Не лги нашему сыну -> Don’t lie to our son

Малыш -> little one

У нас все будет хорошо -> We will be okay

Apologies for any incorrect translations, the Gaelic is done with google translate and the Russian is a different translation app, so chances are there’s something wrong with it. Let me know if you have any corrections on it!