#and hes GREAT when hes tearing up having revelations about life and such. and telling hawkeye about his dad. and such

[get-more-bald]

david ogden stiers you will ALWAYS BE FAMOUS

[anantaru]

⚝ DAY 1 — SIZE KINK

kinktober 2024. — masterlist | ao3

— including. — boothill, sunday

— warnings. — fem! reader, size kink/size difference, dom/sub dynamics, established relationship, pussy drunk boothill

⚝ — BOOTHILL

thick and hot, yes, you read that correctly.

it was a stretch, hehe, just to get boothill's tip inside you— and wow, who would've thought? the man himself was already struggling to feel that simple, little connection of you when he slowly inserts his bulgy tip.

genuinely, your skin connecting to his own could honestly make him cum on the spot.

he's desperate, a little helpless too when he grinds closer, calloused hands playing with your tits before he slips two more inches in, his cock barely coated and greeted by your gummy walls but boothill knows he must stay patient— you will always squeeze him to a rhythm he desires.

he caresses your cheek before siding down to grip your chin firmly, "hey baby, why are you getting so excited? gotta stop squeezing me like that,"

you, on the other hand, were not averse to constructive criticism and decided to grasp onto him for your dear life instead, wrapping your legs around his frame so you could nudge him into you deeper— oh fuck, your body was slowly becoming aware that he really was that big, alerting you by your breathing becoming too fast for you to catch up with as boothill found himself nearly drooling at the sight.

everything he was fantasizing about when you were apart— not to mention the wet dreams he's gotten right after fisted his cock to it— imagining it was your tight, little cunt instead, your warm pussy that was always too tight for him.

he can't stop laughing when you call him huge, too big or tell him it burns a little— yet you love it, all of him, love him with all of your heart.

⚝ — SUNDAY

this wasn't a surprising revelation to say the least, but yes, you got him, towering above you and yes, sunday was big, painfully so— including that he knew, which was somehow even worse because then he won't stop teasing you until your lashes are ruined with your tears, your jaw slacked and lips messily covered in drool, only then he will ask you to beg for him.

you gasp a great lungful of air as he thrusts inside the first time, moaning in both pain and relief as you exhaled through a clenched jaw— no pain, really, well? obviously the burn of the stretch in the beginning that almost made you pass out so delirious did it make you feel.

sunday made sure to give you enough space so you could properly mould yourself around his erection, your thighs trembling as he feels your hot liquids coating his shaft.

sunday's mouth curves into a smirk before he places his lips on your tit, closing around your nipple to shift your focus to another place of pleasure, giving it a flick of his tongue, and when he bites down very softly— just the slightest impression of teeth— you feel your entire body jerk and uncontrollably grind into his bulgy cock attempting to stretch you out.

he feels so sharp and stinging— yet warm, each new blow of his hips having you pushed and pulled like a rag doll against the bed, with your throbbing cunt leaving a feeling of prickling nerves all over his cock.

you're pulsating, squeezing him, letting go, doing it again, watching him become so desperate for once.

©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[snapscube]

I FINISHED TURNABOUT BIG TOP! Which means here is my updated autopsy report ranking for cases and characters!

Both have actually shifted around quite a bit so you may find it an interesting update. I'll explain some of my current thoughts on the new placements as well as my thoughts on 2-3 in general below a break if ur curious.

Okay so first thing let's just address the elephant in the room: We have an all new category on the character ranking!! One that I sure wish I didn't have to include but unfortunately Big Top made some... very Interesting decisions with specific characters. It would be one thing if this content was featured and then addressed, but it was particularly off-putting and frustrating to me that everything was played entirely straight?? So yeah. New lowest of the low category for a couple freaks who are actively courting a 16 year old!!!! yayyyyyy

OTHERWISE, I do have to say.... I was really pleasantly surprised at 2-3 as a case. I can say now I completely understand people having a distaste for it especially in regards to the unsavory age gaps, but literally..... almost everything else in this case was well put together and generally on-par with the quality of the rest of the series? As an overall package I actually still find Turnabout Samurai infinitely more dull. Like, maybe it's just because the lead-up to actually playing it was so uniquely frustrating for me and forcibly lowered my expectations by a ton, but there was so much good shit in Big Top. Maya, in particular, is in top form during this case. She is so fucking funny. I loved almost every word that came out of her mouth and it really solidified her top spot in the character ranking for me at present. But past that, I think the second half of this case is EXTREMELY strong compared to its opening half. I'll admit during the first trial section I was getting kinda tired with it and finding it hard to care given how much I just do not root for Max, so I had tentatively placed it at bottom of C tier. But then once von Karma arrives in the investigation section and then Acro's storyline enters the equation I really think it finds its footing. I actually found the last few scenes of the trial very emotionally effective, especially Acro's breakdown at the witness stand and mentioning how he couldn't follow through with taking his own life to escape his crime due to his desire to see his brother wake up. Like... I legitimately teared up.

And FURTHERMORE.... von Karma. Oh my god. I don't know if I'm picking up on anything here, nor do I want to know until I maybe see it for myself, but something about her conduct in the final trial really spoke to me. I feel like a surface read makes it apparent that she's just as frustrated as she is because she's losing the case to Wright again, and I do think that's a huge factor still to her reaction... but I don't know, I felt something else with her. Particularly when it came to her reaction towards Acro's attempted murder of Regina. I felt like she came across as PARTICULARLY disgusted towards that revelation and towards her own client in a way that subtly humanized her and had me just CHUCKLING AND CHORTLING in evil anticipation towards potential character arcs. I really hope I've grasped onto something here because... I love her so much. I love the idea that in spite of her reputation we're still gonna get to see this spark of humanity light up. AHHHHH.

Okay. Anyway. In summary:

I understand why people have a distaste for Big Top now, but it does not change the fact that I desperately wish I had been given the chance to experience the story myself going into it without that baggage. It genuinely did not help my experience in the slightest to just have that cloud of expectation over it and it is generally irritating that I couldn't even bring up that I was playing it without people jokingly apologizing to me or telling me that I wouldn't be able to handle it or whatever. Really not a great vibe.

As a case, it has a couple MAJOR, GLARING points of discomfort but I'm still really glad I gave it a chance and was able to find a lot of good in it anyway. It inspired me to unfortunately lower some of my other rankings because this is what I kind of consider a more middle-of-the-road quality for the series now. Solid B tier. I have played much worse.

Maya Fey is a god damn treasure.

As for some of the other character shifts, particularly in relation to some of the characters who got bumped from S to A rank, that's less because I decided I like them less now than I did when I first ranked them and more that I decided my initial interpretation of my feelings was incongruent in some cases. Like, for example I LOVE Mia I really do she's great, but in no way at this current time is she on the same level as Maya or Lana for me. So I just needed to adjust the ratios a bit.

Anyway, I'll be back eventually with posts about the next case and the last one of AA2! :3 I hear it's pretttyyy long but pretttyyy damn GOOD. Can't wait.

[reignpage]

Just a Quick Stop

You had prepared yourself for the goodbyes. 

Practiced a lot in front of the bathroom mirror; smiling when you say ‘we had a great run’, swallowing the tears when you shake hands, and ignoring the warmth from his palm and the comforting callouses you had long mapped out. 

It wouldn’t be too hard, right?

Because you had known there would be an end to your relationship from the very beginning, hell, he told you himself that this wasn’t anything serious. And you thought you knew what that meant, after all this is the modern era, loads of people have flings, so you shrugged his stern tone off and undressed once more, revelling in the euphoria only he could give you. 

But what do girls know of the world?

What did you know, at that age? About being in a man’s world? Of keeping things casual and plainly sexual?

It wasn’t your fault, strictly speaking. He’s older, he should have known better than to say one thing and then do another. Should have never let the lines blur from quick fucks to long aftercare, messy make-outs to reassuring kisses, and from throat grabbing to hand holding. 

He should have never bought groceries, refilled your car, made you soup when you were sick, and he definitely should not have let you introduce him to your friends. 

But he did. 

He did all those things and more. 

And your fridge was never empty, you haven’t been anywhere near a gas station, not been sick on your own, and your friends absolutely love him. 

Why is it so easy to let someone in your life and so damn hard to let them go?

It can’t be because you didn’t know you would have to, because you did. It was one of those late-night thoughts that kept you awake and paranoid, made you anxious when you didn’t wake up in his arms. It also can’t be because he was just so easy to let in?

No, he was towering and clumsy, unused to the plush carpets and shiny hardwood floors. You had to weave around his frame to get to the kitchen, and pick up his dirty socks, tell him off for leaving the toilet seat up, or placing the cereal boxes a shelf too high. 

Eventually, however, you learned to time his steps with yours, warned him before he could even remove them, knew well enough to always pull down the seat even in the dark, and ask for his help in the mornings. 

You made room for him. 

But he never did the same for you. 

That much is clear now, as you stay in the hallway, sitting criss-crossed, watching the door. 

You knew something was off when you came back home — there was the faint smell of bleach lingering in the air, and when you wandered further in, you noticed the dishes were washed and stacked, the carpet fluffy, the cushions plump, and fresh flowers were in the vase.

Your heart knew before your mind did. 

The socks were gone, the toilet seat down, and you didn’t even dare to look at the cereal boxes, could only stumble back to the front door, gawk at the empty spaces between pairs of shoes, clutching your chest like it might just cave in. 

One thing is on your mind, as you stay sitting in the dark. 

You wish you had gotten to use your well-thought speech, had gotten to practice your acting a little more, tested it on a real audience, the real audience, or been the mature one and reached in for a hug like it meant nothing. 

But you can’t.

Because he’s gone.

And Toji didn't even say goodbye.

[pucksandpower]

I’ll Be Waiting

Toto Wolff x Reader

Summary: in which two soulmates are destined to always find each other only to be torn apart lifetime after lifetime after lifetime … until finally, they’re not (aka the reincarnation AU)

Hedeby, 952

The crackling fire casts long shadows across the great hall as Toto sits upon his ornate wooden throne. His piercing brown eyes scan the room, filled with boisterous warriors celebrating their latest successful raid. But his gaze keeps returning to you, his most favored thrall, as you move gracefully among the revelers, refilling their horns with mead.

“You there,” Toto calls out, his deep voice cutting through the din. “Come hither.”

Your heart quickens as you approach, head bowed respectfully. “Yes, my Jarl?”

Toto leans forward, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “Tell me, how fares the celebration? Are our warriors content?”

You risk a glance up, meeting his intense gaze. “They are in high spirits, my Jarl. Your generosity knows no bounds.”

“And what of you?” Toto asks, his voice lowering. “Are you content in my service?”

A flush creeps up your neck. “I am honored to serve you, my Jarl. There is no greater joy.”

Toto nods, satisfied. “Good. I have a task for you. Meet me in my private chambers after the feast.”

As you turn to leave, a hand grabs your arm. It’s Ingrid, Toto’s wife, her eyes narrowed with suspicion.

“What did my husband want with you?” She hisses.

You try to keep your voice steady. “He merely asked about the celebration, my lady.”

Ingrid’s grip tightens. “Do not think I am blind to the way he looks at you. Remember your place, thrall.”

She releases you and you hurry away, your mind racing. As the night wears on, you can feel Toto’s eyes following you, and the weight of Ingrid’s glares.

Finally, the feast winds down. With trepidation, you make your way to Toto’s private chambers. You knock softly.

“Enter,” comes his voice from within.

You step inside, finding Toto standing by the window, silhouetted against the starry night sky.

“Close the door,” he says without turning.

You obey, your pulse quickening. “You wanted to see me, my Jarl?”

Toto turns, his expression unreadable. “I did. Come closer.”

You approach cautiously, stopping a respectful distance away. Toto closes the gap between you, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from your face.

“Do you know why I summoned you here?” He asks softly.

You swallow hard. “No, my Jarl.”

Toto’s hand cups your cheek. “I think you do. I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I’m not watching. It mirrors the way I look at you.”

Your eyes widen. “My Jarl, I-”

“Shh,” he interrupts gently. “You need not speak. I know your heart, as you know mine.”

He leans in, his lips a breath away from yours. “Tell me to stop and I will. But know that you hold my heart in your hands.”

Unable to resist any longer, you close the distance, your lips meeting in a passionate kiss. For a moment, the world falls away, and there is only Toto and the fire he ignites within you.

Suddenly, the door bursts open. You jump apart to see Ingrid standing there, her face contorted with rage.

“I knew it!” She screams. “You treacherous whore!”

Before either of you can react, Ingrid pulls a dagger from her belt and lunges at you. Pain explodes in your abdomen as the blade finds its mark.

“No!” Toto roars, catching you as you collapse.

He lowers you gently to the floor, pressing his hands against the wound. “Stay with me,” he pleads, his voice breaking. “Don’t leave me.”

You try to speak, but only a gurgle escapes your lips. The world starts to fade around you.

“Guards!” Toto shouts. “Fetch the healer!”

But you know it’s too late. As your vision darkens, the last thing you see is Toto’s anguished face, tears streaming down his cheeks.

“I will find you,” he whispers fiercely. “In this life or the next. I swear it.”

With your last breath, you manage to whisper, “I’ll be waiting.”

As your eyes close for the final time, you feel Toto’s lips press against your forehead, sealing a promise that will echo through lifetimes to come.

Vatican City, 1493

The opulent halls of the Vatican echo with hushed whispers and the rustle of silk as you make your way through the winding corridors. Your heart races, not with the excitement of a bride-to-be, but with the desperate resolve of one about to take a drastic step.

As you round a corner, a strong hand grasps your arm, pulling you into a shadowy alcove. You find yourself face to face with Cardinal Toto, his eyes filled with concern.

“My love,” he whispers urgently, “what are you doing here? The wedding is but hours away.”

You place a trembling hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath the rich fabric of his robes. “I had to see you one last time.”

His brow furrows. “What do you mean? Speak plainly, I beg you.”

Taking a deep breath, you steel yourself. “I cannot go through with this farce of a marriage. My father may sell me to the highest bidder, but he cannot sell my heart.”

Toto’s eyes widen in alarm. “What are you planning? Tell me you haven’t done anything foolish.”

You pull a small vial from the folds of your dress. “It is already done, my love. The poison courses through my veins even as we speak.”

“No!” Toto gasps, gripping your shoulders. “How could you? We would have found another way!”

Tears well in your eyes. “There is no other way. My father’s ambition knows no bounds. This was the only path left to me.”

Toto pulls you close, his voice breaking. “Then I shall follow you into the darkness. I cannot live in a world without you.”

You push him away gently. “You must live, Toto. Live and remember me. Perhaps in another life, we will find each other again.”

He shakes his head vehemently. “I will not let you go. Not again. I’ve only just found you in this life, and I refuse to lose you once more.”

Confusion flickers across your face. “What do you mean, ‘again’?”

Toto cups your face in his hands. “I’ve had dreams, vivid as memories, of us in another time. A great hall, a celebration ... and a tragic end. I swore I would find you, and I have. I will not be parted from you now.”

You sway on your feet, the poison beginning to take effect. “Toto, please. You must let me go. Your life, your position ...”

“Mean nothing without you,” he finishes firmly. “Come, we must get you to a physician. Perhaps there is still time to counteract the poison.”

As he tries to lead you away, you stumble, your legs giving way beneath you. Toto catches you, lowering you gently to the floor.

“Help!” He calls out, his voice echoing through the halls. “Someone, help us!”

You clutch at his robes weakly. “It’s too late, my love. But know that I go to my death with a heart full of love for you.”

Footsteps approach rapidly. A group of guards rounds the corner, led by your father, Pope Alexander VI. His face contorts with rage at the sight before him.

“What is the meaning of this?” He thunders. “Cardinal Wolff, explain yourself!”

Toto looks up, defiance blazing in his eyes. “Your daughter lies dying, Your Holiness. Will you not call for aid?”

Your father’s gaze hardens. “My daughter knows her duty. She will marry as I have decreed.”

“She has taken poison rather than submit to your schemes,” Toto spits out. “Is your ambition worth more than your daughter’s life?”

For a moment, shock flickers across your father’s face. Then his expression hardens once more. “Guards, seize the Cardinal. He has clearly bewitched my daughter’s mind.”

As the guards move to comply, you summon the last of your strength. “Father, please. Let me die in peace, with the man I love.”

Your words give the guards pause. They look to the Pope, uncertainty in their eyes.

Your father’s face twists with conflicting emotions. “You would throw away everything for this ... this upstart Cardinal?”

“I would throw away everything for love,” you whisper. “Something you have long forgotten the meaning of.”

A tense silence falls over the group. Then, to everyone’s surprise, your father waves the guards away. “Leave us,” he commands.

As they retreat, he kneels beside you, his voice softer than you’ve heard it in years. “My child, what have you done?”

You meet his gaze steadily. “I have chosen my own fate, father. For once in my life, I have made my own choice.”

Toto holds you closer, his tears falling freely now. “Is there truly nothing to be done?” He asks, his voice raw with anguish.

Your father shakes his head slowly. “The poison she favors ... it is swift and irreversible. I had thought to use it on our enemies, not ...” He trails off, unable to finish the thought.

As your breath grows more labored, you turn to Toto. “Promise me something, my love.”

“Anything,” he vows without hesitation.

“Live,” you whisper. “Live and do good in this world. And when your time comes, look for me in the next life. I will be waiting.”

Toto presses his forehead to yours. “I swear it. I will find you again, in this life or the next.”

With your last ounce of strength, you pull him into a final kiss. As your lips part, you feel the life leaving your body.

The last thing you hear is Toto’s anguished cry, a sound that seems to echo not just through the halls of the Vatican, but across time itself.

As darkness claims you, a strange sense of remembrance washes over you. You’ve been here before, you realize. And somehow, you know you’ll be here again. For your love is one that transcends death itself, destined to play out across the ages until, at last, you and Toto find your happily ever after.

Virginia, 1863

The makeshift field hospital buzzes with frantic activity as wounded soldiers are brought in from the front lines. The air is thick with the metallic scent of blood and the acrid smell of gunpowder. Amidst the chaos, you move with practiced efficiency, your nurse’s apron already stained with the day’s grim work.

Suddenly, a commotion at the entrance catches your attention. Your heart stops as you recognize the unconscious figure being carried in on a stretcher.

“Toto!” You cry out, rushing to his side.

The soldiers carrying him look grim. “It’s the Commander, ma’am. He took a bullet meant for one of his men.”

You quickly assess the wound, your medical training warring with your rising panic. “Put him here,” you direct, indicating an empty cot.

As they lay Toto down, his eyes flutter open. “Y/N?” He murmurs weakly. “Is that you, my love?”

You grasp his hand tightly. “I’m here, darling. You’re going to be alright.”

Toto manages a pained smile. “You always were a terrible liar, my dear.”

“Don’t talk like that,” you scold, fighting back tears as you begin to clean his wound. “You’re not going anywhere. I won’t allow it.”

He chuckles, then winces. “If only your determination could heal bullet wounds.”

As you work, you keep up a steady stream of conversation, partly to distract Toto from the pain and partly to keep your own rising fear at bay.

“Do you remember when we first met?” You ask, your hands moving swiftly to staunch the bleeding. “At that ridiculous ball in Washington?”

Toto’s eyes soften at the memory. “How could I forget? You were the most beautiful woman in the room, and I was the fool who spilled champagne all over your dress.”

You laugh despite yourself. “And then you insisted on giving me your jacket to cover the stain, even though it was three sizes too big.”

“It was worth the embarrassment,” Toto says softly. “It got you to talk to me.”

A sharp intake of breath from Toto makes you pause in your ministrations. “I’m sorry, love. I know it hurts.”

He shakes his head. “Don’t apologize. You’re doing your best. You always do.”

You blink back tears, focusing on the task at hand. “We have so much left to do, Toto. Remember our plans? The house by the lake, the children we talked about ...”

Toto’s hand finds yours, squeezing weakly. “Tell me about them. Our children.”

You swallow hard, playing along even as your heart breaks. “Well, there’s little Torger, of course. He would have your eyes and your stubborn chin.”

“Poor lad,” Toto quips, his voice growing fainter.

“And our daughter,” you continue, your voice wavering. “She would be as smart as her father and as headstrong as her mother. Heaven help us when she would’ve gotten older.”

Toto’s eyes begin to drift closed. “They sound perfect.”

Panic seizes you. “Toto? Toto, stay with me. Please, darling, you have to fight.”

His eyes open again with visible effort. “I’m trying, my love. But I’m so tired.”

You look around frantically. “Doctor! We need a doctor here!”

But the overwhelmed medical staff are all occupied with other critical patients. You’re on your own.

“Look at me,” you plead, cupping his face in your hands. “Do you remember what you promised me on our wedding day? You said you’d love me in this life and the next. You can’t break that promise now.”

A strange look passes over Toto’s face. “The next life,” he murmurs. “Yes, I remember. I’ve always remembered, somehow.”

Confusion mixes with your fear. “What do you mean?”

Toto’s gaze becomes distant. “I’ve loved you before, Y/N. In other times, other places. I don’t know how I know this, but I do.”

You shake your head, tears flowing freely now. “You’re delirious, my love. Save your strength.”

“No,” Toto insists with surprising force. “Listen to me. This isn’t the end. I will find you again. I swear it.”

His words stir something deep within you, a sense of déjà vu so strong it takes your breath away. “Toto, I-”

But before you can finish, Toto’s body is wracked by a violent coughing fit. Blood trickles from the corner of his mouth.

“No, no, no,” you chant, redoubling your efforts to save him. “Don’t you dare leave me, Toto Wolff. Don’t you dare.”

Toto manages to lift a hand to your cheek, wiping away your tears. “My brave, beautiful Y/N. How I wish we had more time.”

You lean into his touch. “We will. You’ll get better and we’ll have all the time in the world.”

But even as you say the words, you can feel Toto slipping away. His breathing becomes more labored, his skin growing cold beneath your touch.

“Kiss me,” he whispers. “One last time.”

Choking back a sob, you lean down and press your lips to his. You try to pour all your love, all your hope, all your desperation into that kiss.

As you pull back, Toto’s eyes meet yours one final time. “Until we meet again, my love,” he breathes.

And then he’s gone.

For a moment, you’re frozen in disbelief. Then a wail of anguish tears from your throat, echoing through the hospital tent.

As you collapse across Toto’s still form, sobs wracking your body, a strange sensation washes over you. It’s as if you’re remembering something you’ve never experienced — other lives, other deaths, other heartbreaks.

In that moment, you know with absolute certainty that this isn’t the end. Somehow, someway, you and Toto will find each other again.

As the chaos of the field hospital swirls around you, you whisper a promise against Toto’s cold lips. “I’ll be waiting for you, my love. In this life or the next.”

And somewhere, beyond the veil of death, a spark of hope ignites. The wheel of time turns, and two souls begin their journey once more, drawn together by a love that refuses to die.

London, 1894

The London fog hangs heavy in the air as you hurry through the winding streets, your heart pounding with a mixture of excitement and fear. You pull your cloak tighter, glancing over your shoulder to ensure you haven’t been followed. Finally, you reach your destination: a nondescript townhouse in a respectable neighborhood.

You knock quickly, a pre-arranged pattern. The door opens almost immediately, and you’re pulled inside by strong, familiar arms.

“My darling,” Toto Wolff murmurs, his eyes drinking in the sight of you. “I was beginning to worry.”

You melt into his embrace, inhaling his comforting scent. “I’m sorry, love. It was difficult to get away tonight.”

Toto’s brow furrows as he notices your wince when he holds you. “He hurt you again, didn’t he?”

You look away, unable to meet his gaze. “It’s nothing, Toto. Please, let’s not waste our precious time together talking about him.”

But Toto gently cups your face, turning it towards him. “It’s not nothing. You don’t deserve this, Y/N. Let me take you away from all this. We could start a new life together, somewhere far from here.”

You sigh, leaning into his touch. “You know we can’t. The scandal would ruin you. Your business, your reputation ...”

“I don’t care about any of that,” Toto insists. “I care about you. I love you.”

Those three words, so freely given, bring tears to your eyes. “And I love you. More than I ever thought possible. But the world isn’t kind to women who leave their husbands, no matter how cruel those husbands might be.”

Toto’s jaw clenches. “Then let me confront him. I have influence, connections. I could make him disappear.”

You shake your head vehemently. “No, I won’t have you risk everything for me. These stolen moments ... they’re enough. They have to be.”

Toto pulls you close again, more gently this time. “They’ll never be enough. Not when I know you’re suffering. Not when every fiber of my being aches to make you my wife, to give you the life you deserve.”

You look up at him, struck once again by the intensity of his gaze. “Sometimes ... sometimes I feel as though we’ve lived this before. This longing, this impossible love. Does that sound mad?”

A strange expression crosses Toto’s face. “No, my love. It doesn’t sound mad at all. I’ve felt it too. As if we’ve known each other across lifetimes.”

You’re about to respond when a loud banging on the door makes you both jump.

“Open up, Wolff!” A familiar, slurred voice calls out. “I know she’s in there!”

Your blood runs cold. “It’s him. Oh God, Toto, it’s my husband. He must have followed me.”

Toto’s expression hardens. “Stay here,” he commands, moving towards the door.

But you grab his arm. “No, please! He’s drunk, he’s dangerous. Let me handle this.”

Before Toto can protest, you rush to the door and open it slightly. Your husband’s red, enraged face greets you.

“So it’s true,” he snarls. “My own wife, carrying on with this ... this upstart robber baron!”

You try to keep your voice calm. “Richard, please. Let’s go home and talk about this.”

But Richard is beyond reason. He shoves the door open, nearly knocking you over. Toto is there in an instant, steadying you.

“Get your hands off my wife,” Richard growls.

Toto’s voice is ice cold. “I suggest you leave, sir. Before you do something you’ll regret.”

Richard laughs bitterly. “Regret? The only thing I regret is not seeing this sooner. How long has this been going on, eh? How long have you been making a fool of me?”

You step forward, hands raised placatingly. “Richard, please. It’s not what you think.”

“Not what I think?” Richard roars. “Do you take me for an idiot?”

In his rage, he lashes out, his hand connecting with your cheek with a sickening crack. You stumble backwards, crying out in pain.

Toto moves with lightning speed, tackling Richard to the ground. “How dare you lay a hand on her!” He shouts, his fist connecting with Richard’s jaw.

The two men grapple on the floor, trading blows. You watch in horror, frozen in place.

Suddenly, Richard’s hand emerges from his coat, clutching a revolver. Time seems to slow down as he aims it at Toto.

“No!” You scream, throwing yourself between them just as Richard pulls the trigger.

The sound of the gunshot is deafening in the small space. For a moment, everything is still. Then you look down, seeing the rapidly spreading red stain on your dress.

“Y/N!” Toto cries out, catching you as you collapse.

Richard stares in shock, the gun falling from his limp fingers. “I ... I didn’t mean ...”

But Toto isn’t listening. He’s cradling you in his arms, his face a mask of anguish. “Stay with me, my love. Please, stay with me.”

You reach up weakly, touching his cheek. “Toto ... my Toto ...”

“Don’t speak,” he urges. “Save your strength. Help is coming.”

But you both know it’s too late. You can feel your life ebbing away with each labored breath.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I’m so sorry we never got our chance.”

Toto’s tears fall on your face as he leans close. “Don’t be sorry. We’ll have another chance. I swear it. I’ll find you again, in the next life.”

A sense of peace washes over you at his words. “Promise?”

“I promise,” Toto vows fiercely. “This isn’t the end for us. It can’t be.”

With the last of your strength, you pull him down for a final kiss. As your lips meet, memories flood your mind – not just of this life, but of others. Viking halls, Vatican corridors, Civil War battlefields. Through it all, one constant.

Toto.

As darkness closes in, you manage one last whisper. “Until we meet again, my love.”

Your eyes close, your hand going limp in Toto’s grasp. The last thing you hear is his anguished cry, a sound that seems to echo not just through the room, but across time itself.

Indiana, 1932

The dilapidated streets of the once-thriving town are a stark contrast to the sleek black car that rolls through them. A powerful mobster sits in the back, his sharp eyes taking in the changes a decade has wrought on his childhood home.

As the car stops in front of a run-down tenement, a young boy approaches cautiously. Toto steps out, adjusting his expensive suit.

“You Toto?” The boy asks, eyeing him warily.

Toto nods. “I am. And you must be Jimmy. You’ve grown since I last saw you.”

Jimmy’s face darkens. “Yeah, well, a lot’s changed. You here to see her?”

“I am,” Toto confirms, his voice softening. “How is she, Jimmy?”

The boy’s shoulders slump. “Not good, mister. Not good at all. Follow me.”

As they climb the creaking stairs, Jimmy speaks in a low voice. “She’s been sick for months. Tuberculosis, the doc says. But she won’t stop giving her food to us kids. Says we need it more.”

Toto’s jaw clenches. “Why didn’t anyone tell me? I would have-”

“She wouldn’t let us,” Jimmy interrupts. “Said you had your own life now, that she didn’t want to be a burden.”

They reach a door on the third floor. Jimmy hesitates before opening it. “Just ... prepare yourself, okay?”

Toto steels himself as they enter the small, dimly lit room. His heart nearly stops when he sees you lying on the bed, a mere shadow of the vibrant girl he remembers.

Your eyes light up when you see him, even as a coughing fit wracks your frail body. “Toto? Is it really you?”

He’s at your side in an instant, taking your hand in his. “It’s me, my love. I’m here.”

You manage a weak smile. “You shouldn’t have come. It’s not safe for you here.”

Toto shakes his head, fighting back tears. “To hell with safety. Why didn’t you tell me you were ill? I could have helped.”

Another cough shakes you, and this time, blood stains your lips. Toto reaches for a handkerchief, gently wiping it away.

“I didn’t want to be a burden,” you whisper. “You’ve done so well for yourself, Toto. I couldn’t bear to drag you back here.”

Toto’s voice is fierce. “You could never be a burden. Don’t you know that you’re everything to me?”

You look at him sadly. “We were children then. The world’s changed. We’ve changed.”

“Not where it matters,” he insists. “My feelings for you have never changed.”

Jimmy, who’s been hovering by the door, speaks up. “I’ll, uh, give you two some privacy.” He slips out, closing the door behind him.

Alone now, Toto takes in your gaunt face, your hollow cheeks. “Why haven’t you been eating?” He asks softly.

You look away. “Times are hard. The children need it more than I do.”

“And what about what you need?” Toto demands, his voice breaking. “Did you think I wouldn’t want to know? That I wouldn’t move heaven and earth to help you?”

A tear slips down your cheek. “I couldn’t ask that of you. You’ve built a new life. I’m just ... I’m just a relic of the past.”

Toto cups your face gently, turning it towards him. “You’re not a relic. You’re the love of my life. The only thing that’s mattered all these years.”

You search his eyes, seeing the truth there. “Oh, Toto. I’ve missed you so much.”

He leans in, pressing his forehead to yours. “I’m here now. And I’m not going anywhere. We’re going to get you better and then-”

But you shake your head weakly. “It’s too late for that, my love. I can feel it. I don’t have much time left.”

“Don’t say that,” Toto pleads. “You can’t give up. Not now that we’re together again.”

Another coughing fit overtakes you, more violent than before. When it subsides, you look at Toto with a strange mix of sadness and wonder.

“You know,” you murmur, “I’ve had the strangest dreams lately. Of us, together, but in different times, different places. Is that mad?”

Toto’s breath catches. “No, it’s not mad at all. I’ve had them too. Like ... like we’ve lived this love before.”

You manage a small smile. “Perhaps we have. Perhaps we always will.”

Toto brings your hand to his lips, kissing it softly. “Then let this not be the end. Fight, my love. Fight to stay with me.”

“I’m trying,” you whisper. “But I’m so tired, Toto. So very tired.”

He climbs onto the bed, gathering you carefully in his arms. “Then rest. I’ve got you now. I’m not letting go.”

You nestle against his chest, feeling safe for the first time in years. “Toto?”

“Yes, my love?”

“Will you tell me about your life? What you’ve been doing all these years?”

Toto hesitates, not wanting to speak of his less-than-legal activities. But he sees the genuine interest in your eyes and begins to talk, telling you sanitized versions of his rise to power.

As he speaks, he feels you relaxing in his arms, your breathing becoming more even. For a moment, he allows himself to hope.

But then you look up at him, your eyes filled with a mix of love and regret. “I wish we had more time,” you breathe.

Toto’s heart clenches. “We will. You’re going to get better, and we’ll have all the time in the world.”

You shake your head slightly. “Promise me something.”

“Anything,” he vows without hesitation.

“Look after them. Jimmy and the others. They’ll need someone now.”

Toto nods, tears flowing freely now. “I promise. But you’ll be here too. You have to be.”

You reach up weakly, touching his cheek. “Kiss me? One last time?”

Choking back a sob, Toto leans down, pressing his lips to yours in a gentle, desperate kiss.

As you part, you look into his eyes one final time. “Until we meet again, my love,” you whisper.

And then you’re gone, your body going limp in Toto’s arms.

For a moment, the world stands still. Then Toto’s anguished cry echoes through the small room, a sound of grief so profound it seems to transcend time itself.

As he holds your lifeless body, Toto makes a silent vow. He will find you again, in this life or the next. For a love like yours cannot be bound by the limits of a single lifetime.

Monaco, 2024

The bustling energy of the paddock swirls around you as you make your way through the crowd, one hand resting protectively on your slightly swollen belly. Despite the chaos, you move with confidence, knowing that at any moment ...

“There you are, mein Schatz,” a familiar voice calls out. Toto appears at your side as if by magic. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Are you feeling alright? Do you need to sit down?”

You can’t help but smile at his concern. “I’m fine, Toto. Just taking a little walk. The baby’s been restless today.”

Toto’s hand immediately joins yours on your belly, his face lighting up with wonder. “Is that so? Well then, little one, let’s find a more comfortable spot for your mother, shall we?”

Before you can protest, Toto is guiding you towards the Mercedes hospitality area, his arm protectively around your waist. As you walk, heads turn and whispers follow. It’s still a novelty for many to see the usually intense and focused Toto Wolff so openly affectionate.

“Toto, really, I’m okay,” you insist, even as you allow him to lead you. “You don’t need to fuss so much.”

He gives you a look that’s equal parts love and stubbornness. “Nonsense. It’s my job to fuss over you. Both of you.”

As you enter the cool, quiet Mercedes suite, Toto immediately starts arranging pillows on a plush sofa. “Here, sit down. Can I get you anything? Water? A snack? Perhaps a foot massage?”

You laugh, settling onto the sofa. “A water would be lovely, thank you. But then you need to relax. Don’t you have a race to prepare for?”

Toto waves a hand dismissively as he fetches your water. “The team can manage without me for a few minutes. You and our child are my priority.”

As he hands you the water and sits beside you, you can’t help but marvel at the man before you. Toto Wolff, the billionaire, the racing mogul, the man whose mere presence commands respect throughout the paddock — and here he is, fussing over you like a mother hen.

“What are you thinking about?” Toto asks, noticing your contemplative expression.

You take his hand, intertwining your fingers with his. “Just ... how different things are now. How perfect. Sometimes I feel like we’ve been waiting lifetimes for this happiness.”

A strange look passes over Toto’s face, a mix of recognition and wonder. “You know, I’ve had that same feeling. Like we knew each other before.”

You nod, a shiver running down your spine. “It’s odd, isn’t it? But it feels ... right, somehow.”

Toto pulls you closer, his hand resting on your belly once more. “Perhaps we have known each other across lifetimes. And perhaps this is the one where we finally got it right.”

Just then, you feel a strong kick from the baby. Toto’s eyes widen in delight.

“Did you feel that?” He exclaims, his usual composure completely forgotten.

You laugh, wincing slightly. “Trust me, I felt it. I think someone’s eager to join the conversation.”

Toto leans down, speaking directly to your belly. “Hello there, little racer. Are you practicing your podium celebrations already?”

As if in response, there’s another kick. Toto looks up at you, his eyes shining with unshed tears of joy.

“I never knew I could be this happy,” he murmurs. “You’ve given me everything. A love I never thought possible, a family of my own ...”

You cup his cheek, touched by his openness. “Oh, Toto. You’ve given me just as much. More, even. You’ve given me a home, a sense of belonging I’ve never had before.”

Toto turns his head to kiss your palm. “And I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure you always feel that way. Both of you.”

Just then, there’s a knock at the door. Toto sighs, reluctantly pulling away.

“Come in,” he calls out, his ‘team principal’ voice back in place.

A nervous-looking intern pokes his head in. “I’m sorry to interrupt, sir, but the strategy meeting is about to start. They’re asking for you.”

Toto nods. “Thank you. I’ll be there in a moment.”

As the intern leaves, Toto turns back to you with an apologetic smile. “Duty calls, I’m afraid. Will you be alright here?”

You roll your eyes good-naturedly. “I’ll be fine. Go, lead your team to victory. We’ll be right here cheering you on.”

Toto stands, but hesitates. “Are you sure you don’t need anything? I could have someone bring you some snacks or maybe a blanket if you’re cold ...”

“Toto,” you say firmly, but with affection. “Go. We’re fine. I promise I’ll call if I need anything.”

He leans down to kiss you softly. “Alright, alright. I’m going. I love you both so much.”

“We love you too,” you reply, giving him a gentle push. “Now go be the brilliant team principal I married.”

As Toto finally leaves, you settle back into the couch, your hands resting on your belly. You feel another kick and smile.

“Your father’s quite something, isn’t he?” You murmur to your unborn child. “But don’t worry. No matter how busy he gets, no matter how many races he wins, you and I will always be his greatest victory.”

As you sit there, surrounded by the muffled sounds of the paddock, you’re filled with a sense of contentment so profound it almost overwhelms you. After so many lifetimes of heartache and separation, you and Toto have finally found your happily ever after.

And as your baby kicks again, you smile, knowing that this is just the beginning of your greatest adventure yet.

[eerielamb]

𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐄𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐓𝐫𝐲 𝐖𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐬 ˚⋆｡☆

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: first work on my new blog is something a lil extra taboo! this wouldn’t exist without the lovely @hauntedfawnn bringing the concept to my attention and encouraging me to post this, thank you sweet angel for always being my biggest cheerleader!!♡·˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆｡

𝐖𝐚��𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: dom!rafe, sub!reader, afab reader, watersports (a.k.a piss kink), omorashi (bladder control), dubcon, oral sex, cowgirl, forced orgasm, degradation, dacryphillia, porn mentions, slight praise

if this isn’t your thing, please just keep scrolling! the great thing about kink is that there’s something for everyone, if this particular one isn’t for you, i encourage you to find something else that is!

𝐒𝟏 𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐞 ~ the moment the salacious request leaves your lips he’s looking at you as if you’d suddenly grown a second head, but after a moment to process, he’s excited yet apprehensive. he hesitantly agrees, having you sit on the toilet with your thighs spread as wide as you can, your pussy on full display for him as he holds his dick, aiming his stream to hit your upper thighs a little bit before hitting your cunt, mesmerized by the way it drips down your folds, that sight alone affirming it for him.

𝐒𝟐 𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐞 ~ that man is GROSS. he knows more about it than you do and practically pushes you to your knees right then and there when you ask. he’s mean, taking your request full throttle, starting with pissing on you until your shirt is soaked and calling you all sorts of degrading names as he finds increasingly humiliating ways to incorporate it into your sex life. he has you jerk him off while he pisses into your mouth, getting off on your tears when he calls you a nasty whore and slaps you for letting some dribble out of your mouth. he’ll fuck your mouth after, reveling in your obscene gagging until he’s about to cum, abruptly pulling out of your mouth to shoot his load all over your face, a mess of cum, tears, and piss dripping down onto your chest. eventually he suggests pissing IN you after seeing it in some sleazy porn he found online.

𝐒𝟑 𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐞 ~ he’s open immediately, having seen porn of it before and has been curious to try it himself, so your request doesn’t phase him as much as you thought it would. he’s not one to take things at face value though, always looking for a way to improve upon ideas, so he makes you work for it. he uses the hold he has on you to his advantage, making you quite literally beg for him to give you his piss. he requires you to degrade yourself a little before giving it to you, and will praise you to the moon and back after for being such an obedient angel for him.

𝐒𝟒 𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐞 ~ this rafe is thorough, he’s learned that acting on impulse doesn’t always get him what he wants, so though he agrees, he’s also doing research immediately. through that research, he finds out water sports isn’t just pissing on/being pissed on, it’s about control and humiliation too, which he finds great pleasure in. he’ll piss on you like you so sweetly asked him to, but only if you obey his rules throughout the day. he controls when YOU go to the bathroom, making you hold it if you’ve been naughty, until you’re begging him to let you go. one day he times things so he knows you’ll have to go while you’re riding him, him pushing you to cum again even though you’re telling him you can’t hold it anymore, and he just doesn’t care, continuing to hold your hips and fuck up into you until you lose it and cum again, simultaneously letting your piss out all over his stomach and thighs, the release so intense that you don’t know wether to cry or thank him, so you do both until he’s carrying you to the bath and soothing you all sweetly for being so good for him. you’re his lil piss princess and he loves having you rely so heavily on him for such a basic human function, it makes him feel responsible for you, and he wants nothing more than to take care of you in any way he can.

~

please message me, comment, or send me an ask if you’d like to be tagged in my future rafe works!

[azsazz]

Hanging by a Thread

Kinktober Day 23: Cassian x Reader [Edging]

Summary: If it’s not already taken can I request cass x reader edging for kinktober? but like… reader edging him 👀

Warnings: Smut, sub!cassian, blow jobs, dirty talk, reader rides cass.

Word Count: 2,442

Notes: This one's for that anon the other day I busted this out because i felt bad, hopefully it's not too shitty.

_________________________________________

The great thing about the mating bond is that it tells you when your mate is about to lose control. The feeling mirrors in your bones, the golden thread tying your love together weaving through your bones shudders with delight. Your spine lengthens as a result of the feeling, heart stammering uncontrollably. 

But it’s not the only thing that lets you know he’s getting near. Cassian’s strong hand is fisted in your hair, shoving you roughly down on his cock as his hips lift in a brutal face to fuck your throat. You revel in the ache, the stretch. Saliva smears down his thick length, across your face and dripping down your chest. He loves the look of you like this, a mess for him. Your thighs are shaking and your arms burn with the effort to hold yourself up, and there’s a tinge in your neck from his movements. 

Unabashed sounds fall from Cassian’s lips, his voice rough and edged with his incoming orgasm. Moans and pants and filthy fucking words that have the ache between your legs becoming a full on desperate throb for any sort of friction. 

Being like this, the source of his pleasure, even when he’s guiding you with a hand at your nape…it makes you feel…powerful. And you want more of that feeling; knowing that you can make Cassian like this, a puddle for your mouth, your touch, your sounds.

You want to see how much you can get away with.

Planting your hands to the cutting muscles of his hips, you work yourself free. Cassian can feel your resistance, slowing, his fingers slipping from your hair as you sit up. His brows are tight with worry, and he ignores the heaving of his chest, the pleasure wracking his bones to make sure you’re okay.

But your eyes are bright, alive and not filled with tears or discomfort. You’re wiping saliva from your face with the back of your hand, and Cassian’s confused until he’s not, when you climb on top of him and sit on his cock with a determination only his girl could have.

“I’m going to ride you, baby,” you tell him, rubbing your wet cunt across his already sopping cock. He grunts at the feeling but his words catch in his throat because you’re not waiting for a response, sinking down onto him and rolling your hips on the way down. It’s a move you’ve never done before, coming up with it only now in the confidence that’s coursing through your blood. It makes Cassian bare his throat to you a little, and fuck do you like that. “But you’re not allowed to cum.”

“Is that so?” he asks, voice filled with curiosity and nonchalance. He lifts his hands, settling them behind his head as he watches you hungrily. “And why is that?”

“Because I’m in charge,” you answer, and the self-assurance in your tone has him agreeing with pleasure.

“Alright, sweetheart. Show me what you’ve got.”

So you do. You pull out all of the stops, using every trick that you have and know he loves. You even use words, trying something new, speaking to him with the arrogance that he does you when he’s fucking you within an inch of your life. 

Cassian’s cockiness turns quickly, hands falling from his head to touch, but only where you’ll allow. He grumbles, frustrated, but obeys. You flood the bond with praise in response, and Cassian nearly melts.

As much as he tries to keep himself in check, pretend that you’re not affecting him as much as you are, you know that he’s getting close.

“How are you doing down there, baby?” you ask, trying to keep the tease from your voice. You can feel the way he’s trying to hold himself back, trying to think of anything besides what your cunt is doing to his cock, your words to his mind, and your fingers to his body.

“I’m great,” Cassian answers, but it’s strained. You bite back a wolfish grin. If he wants to try and pretend, you’ll make his impending orgasm worse.

“Is that so?” You repeat his words from earlier and he nods. “You can pretend all you want, baby, but I know,” you drift off, trailing your fingers up the expanse of his massive chest. It jerks with a heavy breath as you roll your hips once more in a slow, leisurely swirl. Tapping right where his heart lies, you lean in close, fluttering your lashes just how he likes, lips a hair's breadth away from his gasping ones. “That if I bounce on your cock only a few more times,” each word is accentuated with a bob up and down his length. His hands steel themselves to your hips, but he makes no move to lift you, to fuck you like the wild beast raging inside of him wants. He knows he won’t get what he wants if he does, and you likely won’t go near him for a week. “You’ll be cumming right in my tight little cunt, whether you’re trying to or not.”

Cassian throws his head back into the pillow with a groan, his fingers tightening on your skin, eliciting a pleasured gasp. His hazel eyes are hidden behind shut eyes but it’s okay because yours have rolled into the back of your skull as you sink deeper, move faster, his cock filling you to the brim. 

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Cassian breathes. He can’t focus, your beautiful body is doing too much. There’s an undeniable heat coiling his gut and the tip of his cock hits your womb, dragging down your constricting, soaking wet walls. Yours is the best pussy he’s ever been in, ever seen, and he needs to mark you. “I need to cum.”

“Yeah?” you taunt, moving faster. Every bounce on his cock makes you feel so incredibly full, but there’s more that you want. You want his cum, want him fucking it into your womb. You want to keep him there, hold his cock in your cunt until he’s hard once more and do it all over again. You don’t want him leaving you until there’s so much of his cum in your cunt that each thrust sends the silky white dripping between your thighs. You want to paint his skin with it, lick it up, share it with him. “You need to cum, Cass?”

“I need to cum.” It’s almost a fucking whine, for Mothers sake. His tone has pitched higher as he tries to stave away the orgasm threatening to rip his body apart. There’s nothing for him to think about that would help cease this lance of fire traveling down his dick with each of your hot motions, his head is empty of all thoughts but you. “Please.”

You smirk, slowing your hips to a gentle roll. The sound of frustration Cassian makes has you getting wetter, not often in charge during sex like this. It feels…amazing. You feel powerful, having this size of a male beneath you, trying to tear himself apart at the seams in order not to cum, to follow your direction like the good boy he’s trying to be.

“No,” you answer simply, coming to a halt. You can feel the tension of his body, muscles straining with the effort to keep still, to not spill into you and fill your greedy cunt. It’s extra greedy tonight, with the taste of control you have. “You’re not going to cum.”

Every whimper that escapes Cassian’s tongue has your cunt clenching. Never did you think that this could feel so good. Is this how he feels when he’s leading a troop? To have someone listen without question, even when they so desperately want to have it their way?

“I can’t hold it, sweetheart,” he pleads, peeling his eyes open in desperation to look up at you. You sit on his dick, spine straight, tall like a goddess. Your forehead is dotted with sweat and your cheeks are flushed pink, creeping down your throat to your chest, nipples tight. Your hands are planted on his own chest, swiping over his own nipples as if trying to calm him down. All it does is add to the erotic sensations swirling through his body.

“You can, and you will,” your voice takes on a harsher tone. You haven’t cum yet so Cassian isn’t allowed to. You are going to service yourself first, and then, if he’s been good, he’ll get to cum. “I know you can, Cass. You’re doing amazing so far.”

The praise goes straight to his cock. You can nearly feel it throb inside of you, and you clench around him just to tease a little more, see how good his control really is. 

Cassian meets your eyes, his gaze sharper than it was a moment ago. Your heart falters for a moment when you see the challenge lying within. His demeanor shifts and he tugs you down, pulling you flush against his chest, his arms winding around your waist to lock you into place as he leans in close, breath hot in your ear. “When this is all over, when you’re done with this little power trip,” he starts. The threat rumbling his tone goes straight to your keening cunt. “And you’re still aching for more—” Cassian’s teeth brush the shell of your ear and you shudder. It’s hot, but neither of you are moving, chests fighting for breath. His cock is hard and hot inside of you but you don’t dare move as warmth floods your system. He’s playing dirty, using his words to try and get you off like you don’t know his games. “I’m going to return the favor. Show you exactly what you’re doing to me, sweetheart.”

Fucking fuck, does he know how to get you. The slight curve of his pink lips upwards shows you that he knows it too, felt that unmistakable flutter of your walls quivering at the thought of being pinned to the bed, Cassian ripping orgasm after orgasm from your shaking body until you’re nothing more than a puddle of tears and moondust.

But you’re in charge right now, you have to remind yourself. You steel the walls in your mind and catch Cassian noticing. His eyebrows twitch only slightly.

“Oh Cassian,” you sigh, pushing at his broad shoulders to sit yourself up. His muscles shift beneath your grip and it feels nice. While he may have accomplished calming his cock down a little with those threats of his, you can still feel that tightness in your own groin, the one drawing to be released. You brush the tendrils stuck to his face behind his ear with a savage smile that says you accept. “Threats aren’t going to help you this time.”

His throat bobs and you want to lean down and lick it. 

Your thighs are burning but you pick up your pace, both you and Cassian releasing matching moans as you go from no movement to riding his cock like it will give you all the riches in life. It has, so far. You love your mate dearly, so much so that the emotion is near overwhelming. Tears prick your eyes at the thought but you bite your lip, focusing on the sting. You’re the strong one right now. 

“Fuck, you feel so good, baby,” you whine, head falling back on your shoulders. Cassian’s hands find your tits and there’s only a sliver of your brain that can focus on anything besides the feeling of his cock dragging against your walls, hitting that spot inside of you that makes you feel like you’re going to combust. It’s making sure that his touch doesn’t turn demanding, guiding you up and down no matter how badly you want to release your power to him. 

“You’d feel so much better stuffed with my cum, sweetheart,” Cassian grouses, watching you with bright eyes.

“Don’t want you to cum,” you mewl a little, grasping onto his hands with your own. Your orgasm is cresting again, but you don’t want this to end. “I like being in charge.” 

Cassian’s hands slip from yours, winding down your torso to get a full grab of your ass before trailing up your skin so he can grip your chin and force your face down to meet his. 

“I love you being in charge,” he admits, grunting at your movements.

“You do?” you gasp at a particularly pleasurable jab of his cock, switching the angles as you lean closer to him. The wildfire in your bones that connects the both of you is ablaze now, an inferno of passion that’s nearly burnt to the end of its rope. You prepare yourself for the explosion by clawing your fingers into Cassian’s gloriously tanned skin. 

Cassian steals a kiss, and you allow him to. His mouth is hot and dominant and you’re desperate for his taste, his large hands on your body and his cock in your cunt. “Yes,” he hisses when he pulls away, barely. “I love when you take what you want from me, telling me how good my cock feels stuffed inside of you. If I never had to leave this tight, wet cunt of yours I wouldn’t. Fuck Rhys and fuck the courts. You’re mine, sweetheart, and I’ll do anything you ask, no matter how much it hurts.”

“Cass,” you cling to him, pressing your head into his collarbone as the implosion happens. “I’m cumming!”

“Yes, sweetheart,” he encourages, planting his feet onto the bed and fucking into you now that you’ve stopped moving, jerking only slightly as your orgasm locks your muscles. You cry out in pleasure as he works you through it, liquid fire burning your body. 

It mirrors him and he gasps, feeling the rush of your orgasm as he tries desperately to hold himself back. “Sweetheart, please, can I cum?”

You moan affirmation because you don’t think you can speak anymore. Your brain is mush, your cunt sensitive as Cassian grips you tight and fucks up into you, chasing his own orgasm. You whine at the feeling but he likes that, his body shuddering as he releases his hot cum into you.

“That’s it, sweetheart, take all of it. I’ll fill you up good,” Cassian’s breath is hot in your ear but his words have your brain clearing for only a moment. 

You swat at him, huffing, before melting back into the warmth of his body. “That’s supposed to be my line.”

His chest vibrates with laughter beneath you and you can’t help but to smile, accepting the sweet kiss he presses to your lips. “Sorry, sweetheart. Maybe next time.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•

Kinktober Taglist:@bunnymallowo@jeannineee@icey–stars@hannzoaks@harrystylesfan2686@azriels-shadowsinger @alysena2 @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @impossibelle @glitterypirateduck @reading-moongirl

[azen13]

The Lives and Losses of Lovers

Description: This is actually inspired by a post by @lum1nesc3nce, which you can find here! TLDR: Zhongli x God!Reader, where Zhongli kills his lover but they stay alive. This does have a bit more of a Yandere!Zhongli flavor, though, so be warned!

CW: Yandere Themes, Descriptions of Violence, Descriptions of Blood, Murder, Mild Gore,

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

The patio is warm, blessed with the touch of the sun’s earliest rays. Already you and Zhongli sit in two comfortable chairs; he sips on tea, you on coffee. It is a scene that has played out a thousand times, yet one Zhongli never tires of. He never tires of seeing your face aglow, of feeling your body leaning against his, of knowing you are here, miraculously breathing life through your bones and skin.

“My dear, I was wondering,” Zhongli starts, his soft contemplative voice shattering the flimsy silence blanketing the porch. “Would you like to accompany me to Liyue Harbor to purchase some groceries?” It is a reward–he thinks as he revels in your surprised reaction–for how understanding you have been in these turbulent times. With the whole mess regarding the Fatui cleared up and a mundane mortal life ahead of him, Zhongli can afford to spend more moments with you in sweet, blissful love.

Perhaps one day it will make up for that vile scene years ago, the moment his heart became stone: your body splayed stunningly on the ground, looking like the most gilded, horrific masterpiece he had ever seen. Painted in sunlit hues, his spearhead sticking from your chest splattered with blood made of molten gold. 

Even nearly dying you looked breathtaking. 

He is still suffering from regret for the decision. At the time, the situation was looking grim; Guizhong and Azhdaha were both gone, leaving you his only close friend. He spent many moonlit nights sharing tea and hushed conversation, as well as tears and heartfelt confessions with you. Zhongli is not the god of words, but just the sight of your iridescent eyes made him want to tell you every trouble and every worry had. You were his most valuable treasure, his lover through and through. Your contract with him, to always stand by side, loyal to one another, made him so weak, so soft, so human.

But that was the issue. Everyone knew of his love, his tender affection; unbecoming of a god who wielded earth and stone as weapons. His life was plagued by phantoms day and night. When he dreamed he envisioned you being kidnapped by some evil god like Osial and being tortured. Killed. Doomed to a fate worse than death, even. In the day, every action you did reminded him of a delicate tree weathering a deluge. Your branches swayed in the intense winds and even the earth couldn’t anchor you.

So he pleaded. He begged you to stay tucked away in his private domain where no great evil could stalk after you, promising to love you for an eternity of eternities. He would love you until every mountain had become a valley. But you refused, saying you wanted to live every facet of life, turning the world like a kaleidoscope in your hands.

The mirrors shifted and the skies turned red.

Those prophecies he had dreamt, uttered to him by ghosts haunting his mind, came true. You were taken away by some pesky, lowly god, and confessed all that you knew. That was fine. Zhongli was made of stone and Cor Lapis, and even if this insignificant insect of a god knew his weaknesses–few as they were–Zhongli eviscerated them.

But the contract.

When the god was sealed away beneath the sea, Zhongli fell to his knees, mouth opened but unable to utter any words.

Zhongli is not the god of words.

It is horribly tragic, he mourns as he stares at your hollow expression, that you must face the wrath of the rock because of a ridiculous choice of words. “To always stand by his side.” You have technically betrayed him.

The earth shakes for weeks afterwards. The sudden freak earthquake is talked about for weeks on end before people move on, as life does. Zhongli does not. His memory of you remains petrified, his new specter. He will never truly love again for thousands of years. Every time he is reminded of you, a piece of his heart chips away

But then you came back. 

That day is amber, crystallized in his mind. Seeing you in the bustling streets of Liyue Harbor, so lost after centuries away from home. At that moment, Zhongli decides he will not make the same mistake twice. He would have preferred more time to draw you in carefully, but he is afraid now. Afraid that some hideous twist of fate will rip you from him again. So he whisks you away to his private domain, and drafts up a new contract, binding you to him in matrimony forever. 

Please forgive him, he begs after you sign the contract in gold, tears dripping down your cheeks. He only wishes to protect you; he has always wished to protect you. But the world is cruel to lovers, and not even the strong can uphold such a delicate thing. 

In Zhongli’s private domain, wicked things like time and fate are nonexistent. Zhongli is the only god that rules these lands. He is a benevolent god, if a little possessive. After being deprived of you for so long, he craves your presence, he claims. Day and night, he tries to spend every living moment with you. When he cannot, you are ever-present in his mind–a living, breathing thing instead of the dead spirits that once terrorized it for all those years.

Some days you seem despondent, craving room to spread your branches far and wide. But Zhongli simply chuckles and kisses the top of your head; he smells the gentle scent of your shampoo, knowing this is what is best for you. He whispers it quietly, lacing sweet nothings and honeyed words into his voice as he pulls you into his arms. You haven’t tried to fight him on this in years, either. It’s part of the reason why he has proposed going on a  little trip to Liyue Harbor. Perhaps if all goes well, he’ll allow more trips out of the private domain. All supervised by his watchful eye, of course. After a few moments of stunned surprise, you finally have the courage to speak. “I-I’d love to. Thank you, Zhongli,” you say quietly. Zhongli smiles, leaning to press a delicate kiss to your lips.

“You are very welcome, my treasure,” he whispers, a hand reaching to cup your face; his thumb reaches to brush your lips tenderly.

He can tell that you are still afraid of him, fearful that he will hurt you again. No matter. One day, Zhongli hopes, you will shed your fear like a caterpillar in chrysalis, and emerge into a glittering world full of Zhongli’s love for you. 

[matthewtkachuk]

bad at love

Breaking your brother's only unspoken rule—don't date his teammates—has never been an issue in your adult life. Until now.

pairing: jt compher x reader

warnings: angstttt, smut, a minor car accident with mentions of injury (broken bone/concussion), and the usual (alcohol, swearing, etc. etc.)

word count: 4.9k

a/n: hiiiiii @comphy-and-cozy i'm your super secret fic exchange writer! sorry this is a day late and a dollar short. one of these days @wyattjohnston is going to perma-ban me from participating in exchanges. until that date she remains my ever loyal editor. mad thanks to @thomasschabot for reading it first and telling me they loved it even though they're contractually obligated to do so and for physically being there when the fic idea popped into my head <3

It’s not the first time you’ve shown up at your big brother’s house with a face full of tears and a couple bags full of all your worldly possessions. Despite your best efforts and well intentions—if you had to guess—it likely won’t be the last. 

It is the first time you’ve done so with him being a married man, and so it’s your sister-in-law whose comfort you really seek and are expecting to pop up behind the slowly opening door in front of you. 

Unfortunately for you, and for the poor soul you really don’t know that well, it’s not Kenzy who opens the door but the over-the-summer pick-up from Colorado. 

If it had been any of the other, more tenured of your brother's teammates, you might have been waved inside with nothing more than a sympathetic glance and an unspoken ‘again?’. 

Instead, JT’s look of utter confusion has quickly evolved into something more akin to a quiet rage, and you’re reminded that he is a big brother himself. The look is familiar to you, having inspired a similar one on Dylan’s face more times than you can count. 

It’s been a really fucking long day, and you don’t have the emotional bandwidth to have any sort of reckoning with some guy you barely know in your brothers drive way. 

JT’s in the middle of some sort of sentence that begins and also ends with “What—” as you none too gently push past him in order to finally gain entry to the house. 

The mix of sympathy and feigned disinterest that greets you on the faces of your brothers teammates who occupy the large sitting room has your stomach rolling uncomfortably. It seemed like the entirety of the Detroit Red Wings were always around to witness your spectacular failures. What must they think, watching you disappear with the next great love of your life, only to reappear once again with bags packed in a manner of months?

You could hazard a guess at what your brother thinks, the variants of ‘I told you so’ that live and die on his tongue without ever leaving his lips. He wraps you up in an infamous Larkin hug that serves to fix a tiny crack of your broken heart, and so you revel in it like you used to revel in the comfort when the pain you felt was because of falling off the monkey bars when you were a kid. 

But, he has a house full of hockey players to entertain and Kenzy has a glass of wine with your name on it. Dylan returns to the living room and you slide out to the back porch with your sister-in-law, briefly catching the eye of the one who let you in. You don’t see the telltale signs of judgment reflecting back at you, but maybe something else entirely. 

Outside you pour your soul alongside the Malbec. Curled up on the wicker chair under a blanket you tell Kenzy about Owen and the promises he failed to keep. She oohs and ahs at the appropriate times, commiserating without belittling you. 

By the end of the night your heart—and the bottle of wine—feels a little lighter. There’s a little less shame as you make yourself at home in the spare bedroom that might as well permanently be yours. 

Owen visits you in your sleep, breaking your heart again and again until his face morphs into one with a ginger beard and kind eyes. 

-

Those kind eyes become a fixture in your post breakup life. If he’s not hanging around your brother's house, he’s bumping into you at the local coffee shop you frequent when you’re in Detroit. If he’s at neither, he’s obviously at the games you attend in support of Dylan alongside Kenzy. 

At Dylan’s, you barely speak to his teammates and friends beyond simple pleasantries. At your coffee shop, it starts at small talk but grows to be considerable conversations that dip just below surface level. 

It’s at Little Caesars Arena where he really endears himself to you though. Warm ups are arguably your favorite part of the games you attend. You like to look out at the signs, from the heartwarming to the obscene—picking out your favorites and giggling about the latter with your sister in law. 

Dylan’s always been really good about tossing kids pucks, and his big bleeding heart only grew larger when he got the red C strapped to his chest. Some of the other guys, even some of the so-called vets are less good about it. 

JT’s just like Dylan, maybe even a little kinder hearted. He takes the time to read the signs that are meant for him, never turns down a trade for a puck and even gives a stick to a kid whose sign says he came all the way from Denver to watch him, his favorite player, play in Detroit. 

It warms your heart. 

So much so you don’t even notice you’re staring until Dylan’s slamming himself into the boards in front of you to startle his wife. She rolls her eyes and calls him a name not worth repeating while you try to pretend like you weren’t just fixated on his teammate. 

The thing is Dylan has never outright said his teammates are off limits. Not since you were a teenager making eyes at his USNTDP teammates anyway. 

The memory keeps you from looking JT’s way the rest of the warmups, but once the puck drops your eyes can’t help but wander. 

-

Wandering appears to be your specialty, considering you’ve gotten yourself lost in the underbelly of the arena. 

Your first mistake was leaving Ken’s side—she was your ferryman, guiding you down the River Styx, and without her, you were lost in Hell. 

Were you overdramatic? Maybe. Were you lost with no hope of getting out? Still overdramatic, but definitely a possibility. 

The walls begin to look the same, and you’re half worried you’ve accidentally fallen into a back room or something stupid when you stumble upon the one who caught your eye earlier. 

‘Stumble upon’ is a gracious way of saying you absolutely smack into him and fall on your ass. 

He hauls you up effortlessly with one hand and your skin burns beneath his grasp. 

“What are you doing?” you both say in near unison before he laughs. 

“I was getting my shoulder checked out, what are you doing all the way over here? Are you lost?”

Regardless of what he was doing, JT obviously has more of a reason to be found wandering the halls of the arena. And he’s right, you’re most definitely lost but you play it off like he’s crazy. 

“Me? Lost? No, I know exactly where we are,” you bluff. 

JT’s eyebrows raise and he nods slowly. “Which is…?”

Well, he’s called your bluff but he also gave you a key context clue. “Near the athletic trainer, obviously.” 

He laughs again and it has your cheeks feeling hot. 

“Okay fine, maybe I’m a little bit lost and maybe I was contemplating how I’d be trapped down here forever before you knocked me over.”

“I’m sorry, but you ran into me.” You roll your eyes and begin to argue, but he doesn’t let that happen. “Doesn’t matter, I can help you find your way out.”

You swoon dramatically, only half joking as you reply “My hero.”

Now that you’re no longer focused on navigating your way out of Pan’s Labyrinth, you’re free to focus on your close proximity to JT. Based on the way his eyes dart between meeting your own and staring at your lips, you assume he’s just as aware.

Is this not what you’ve been wanting since you knocked on Dylan’s door? But that’s part of the problem, and you’re sure JT is thinking the same. Not only is your brother his teammate—and you’ve always been off limits to your brother's teammates to your chagrin growing up—but he’s JT’s captain, too. There’s a million ways this thing could go wrong and blow up in both of your faces. 

You could get caught, and be forced to sit with Dyl’s disappointment. You could hurt the one person in your life who consistently showed up for you and loved you and cared for you. 

Not to mention you could risk it all for nothing—could crash and burn spectacularly as you were wont to do. Could fuck it all up with not only your brother, but JT too and be left with nothing. It wouldn’t be the first time you’d gone behind your brother’s back, but you had a sneaking suspicion things would be worse than they were when you were 15 to his 16. 

Ultimately you decide fuck it, because what’s life without a little risk?

Tentatively, you slide your hand over the rough beard covering his jaw. When he doesn’t flinch or move away from you, you lean in closer. 

He’s not pulling away, but he’s also not moving closer, letting you make the first move. 

It’s probably a terrible fucking idea, but you’ve never been accused of being someone who makes good decisions when it comes to romantic partners. 

The first press of your lips to his is cautious, barely a brushing of your mouths, just to get a taste. Quickly you become a woman obsessed. Unable to get enough, the kisses turn frenetic, bordering on sloppy. 

He reciprocates in kind, his mouth hot and heavy on yours while his hands grasp and pull and hold. His very essence consumes you, taking over all of your five senses and pulling noises from you that you didn’t know existed. 

If your arm burned from his grasp earlier, your entire body has caught fire. 

You’re unaware or probably more accurately uncaring of your public nature, despite your earlier hesitance. Now you just want more and more and more of JT, as much as he is willing to give and maybe even a little more. 

He seems to be on the same page, entire body wrapping around you and pulling you deeper and deeper. 

Unconsciously your hands begin to pull at the waistband of his pants and it’s then that the two of you finally separate. 

You’re worried you’re going to find regret in his eyes and excuses on his tongue, but he’s just looking at you intently. 

“Not like this,” he says. “Not here.”

“I don’t want to wait,” you protest, but he shushes you with his mouth. 

“It’ll be worth the wait.” 

And worth the wait it is. 

-

It's sexy at first. Clandestine meetings in dark hallways, sneaking in and out of JT’s apartment that’s on the same floor as Jake Walman’s, covert texts and quiet phone calls where you get off on the sound of each other's voices. 

It doesn’t take long for you to want more, though. To fantasize about not just what his calloused hands can do to your body, but what it would be like to hold one in your own while walking down the street. To show up at a home game and have everyone know you were there to support not only your brother, but JT too. 

It’s a fantasy that is only stoked by the comfort you feel walking around JT’s apartment in just his t-shirt with his number on the shoulder. By nights spent together at his dinner table, on his couch, in his bed. By sweet texts and stupid memes and random photos of things that made him think of you. 

You don’t dare speak your desires out loud though. For fear of JT not wanting the same thing or for fear that he would, you’re not quite sure. 

It’s a tough situation to be in. One where you’re worried you're heading to a fork in the road that has JT on one side and your brother on the other. 

You have no delusions about the two paths eventually forging back together again, know that you’ve come dangerously close to that intersection marked with a big fat caution sign. 

Probably you should speak to JT, get on the same page about where you’ve been and where you’re going. Following that, assuming he secretly yearns for the same thing you do, you should probably then come clean to Dylan. 

Probably you should do a lot of things, but unfortunately what is done in the dark always comes to the light and sometimes it happens quicker than you can make your mind up. 

-

A road win presumably has JT in a good mood. He’s texted you letting you know he’ll be home before midnight, requesting your presence in his bed. 

It’s an easy yes, considering you’re already in the aforementioned bed. It’s nice to get out of Dylan’s house, of the suffocating feeling that you’re intruding in someone else’s home, on someone else’s life. 

There’s really nothing particularly sexy about the way he finds you, but his eyes darken upon finding you curled up in his bed just the same. You’re not attempting to recreate a sexy pose from a boudoir photo shoot, and one of JT’s shirts and a pair of boy shorts aren’t exactly fancy lingerie. 

That doesn’t stop him from dropping his bag dramatically and stripping from his dress shirt and pants. 

“Awfully presumptuous,” you say as if the very fact that you’re in his bed in not much more clothing than he is. 

He shrugs, “Not presuming anything. I’m fine if you just want to sleep, but I’m sure as shit not going to sleep in those dress pants. Bad enough I had to sit through a plane ride like that.”

His tone is teasing, but the implication that he would be just as fine falling asleep beside you as anything else pretty well takes all the fight out of you. 

“C’mere,” you say instead of a catchy comeback, lifting the covers and inviting him into his own bed. 

He wastes no time sliding in beside you and curling up around your body. “Hi.”

You snort and hide your face in his neck. “Corny.”

“I’ll show you corny,” he says, but you shush him by pulling his face closer to yours until your lips brush. 

“Thought I was presumptuous,” he says upon breaking the kiss. 

You roll your eyes—“Shut up.”—and kiss him again. 

He doesn’t manage to keep his mouth shut, but at least this time it’s to slip his tongue into your mouth. 

The temperature of the room rapidly increases—between the weight of his body covering your own and your body’s reaction to his fervid kiss, you feel the need to lose at least one item of clothing. 

“I need—“

Luckily he quickly understands what you’re trying to accomplish by pulling at the hem of your shirt, lifting off of you long enough to assist in removing it from your body. 

He makes a noise of appreciation at the bare skin revealed to him before diving back into your lips, this time with one hand cupping your right breast. 

Appreciative noises of your own build in your throat when that hand slides down your body to dip into your underwear. It’s teasing touches at first, until you reciprocate by cupping him through his boxer-briefs. 

Finally you both shed that last remaining layer, uncaring of where they end up in the bedroom. There’s a brief pause while he rolls on a condom and then he’s entering your body like it was made for him and him alone. 

There’s no rush about his pace, just gentle thrusts and soft moans and sweet praises. 

Sex with JT is so good, better than with anyone else you’ve ever been with. He’s the very opposite of a lazy, selfish lover. It’s like your needs and your pleasure come first, and you certainly do too. 

The positioning of your bodies is so intimate, bodies close, mouths slotted over each other with intermingling breaths. 

You worry you’re getting too caught up in that intimacy, possibly running in a direction not quite warranted and so you seek to depersonalize it a touch. 

“Let me,” you say softly while gently pressing a hand against his shoulder, indicating you want him to lay on his back. He moves willingly, even helping you climb atop him. 

It feels just as good with you on top, and the bit of distance between your upper halves means you can breathe a bit better. 

It’s easy to get lost in the feeling, to tilt your head back and focus on your movements and the feel of his bruising grip on your hips. 

Feeling the pressure build in your stomach, you slide a hand down your abdomen to where your bodies meet while the other grasps your breast just for something to hold on to. The added friction to your clit is pulling you closer and closer as you move on top of him. 

He’s staring up at you with lust filled eyes, mouth open in a mix of awe and pleasure. A look of almost disbelief on his face. His hands are still on your hips, now helping the movement of your body on his when your body lights up like the fourth of July with your orgasm. 

It’s hard to keep moving while in the throes of pleasure, but it’s like JT can read your mind, gripping your hips and thrusting up into you until he finishes too. 

Your whole body tingles as you collapse on top of him, relishing in the feel of his arms wrapping around your body. Leisurely you kiss for a minute, until your heart rate returns to normal and you feel like you’re not likely to fall over when going to the bathroom to clean up. 

When you return, you’ve slipped on one of his shirts once again. There's a soft look on his face as you crawl into bed beside him. It only cracks when you quietly whisper, “should we order pizza?”

“I think you’re the girl of my dreams,” he laughs. 

The room is quiet, filled with only the sounds of your breathing and occasional kissing as you wait for the delivery. 

Finally the doorbell rings. “I got it,” you tell JT and pull on a pair of discarded sweatpants before pulling the drawstring so they don’t fall. 

You don’t bother to check the peephole, certain it’s your food which turns out to be a giant mistake. 

Not only is it not your pizza, it’s also the last person you want to catch you with sex hair in oversized clothing that obviously belongs to the guy you’ve just had sex with. 

Dylan’s mouth has dropped so far down it would be comical if it wasn’t also horrifying. 

“Dylan I–” you start to explain yourself but pause midway through. How could you even begin to explain?

“I can’t believe this.” He shakes his head, hands curling at his side. “Actually no, I can’t believe this from JT, I can definitely believe this from you.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you snap. 

Your brother laughs sardonically, “Well you’re not exactly known for making the right decisions when it comes to relationships.”

JT exits his room, no doubt lured by the loud voices and the lack of food. “Hey man, come on, let's talk about this like adults.”

“Like adults?” Dylan is incensed in a way you’ve never seen before. “Now you want to talk about things like adults? The time to talk was before you started sleeping with my sister behind my back.”

“I’m sorry you found out like this–” JT continues to try to defend himself, defend you while you stand there speechless. 

Dylan interrupts, “Sorry I found out or sorry you got caught?”

JT goes to respond but Dylan cuts him off again. “I trusted you dude. I told you she was off limits, and not only did you ignore me, you went behind my back.” He then turns to you. “And you? My teammate? Seriously? You couldn’t have chosen literally any other douchebag to treat you wrong?”

That snaps you out of your stupor. “JT doesn’t treat me bad!”

A different kind of look crosses your older brother's face then. “Well when he does, don’t come running back to my house and crying to me.” 

Dylan slams the door and you sit in the quiet of the room for a minute with your ears ringing. 

The reality of the situation hits you. 

“I can’t stay there, God not only am I a fuck up but I’m homeless too.”

“You can always stay here,” JT offers and it really bothers you that you can’t tell if he wants you to, or if he’s just offering because of his hand in the most recent blow up of your life. 

“I’m pretty sure his baby sister shacking up with his teammate he doesn’t want her with isn’t exactly going to win me any favors with Dyl,” you reply. 

“Well I’m pretty sure he’d rather you be here than living on the street.”

Ordinarily you think that would probably be true but the look on his face when you opened JT’s door is seared into your mind. “I wouldn’t be so sure.”

-

In the end you do move your things into JT’s apartment. Kenzy is the accomplice to your crime, helping you pack your things while the team has practice, wrapping you in her arms and telling you that he just needs some time. 

“He loves you,” she says. 

You’re not so sure. 

That’s probably overdramatic. You’re sure he loves you, and you sure hope he forgives you. You’re just worried that this time you’ve both done and said things you can’t take back and you’re not sure how things will move forward from here. 

It’s not all bad though. 

Living with JT is surprisingly easy, even right one might say. You fit directly into each other's lives like perfect puzzle pieces. His strict routines of practices and morning skates and games—both home and away—allow you the space to complete your own work on your own time. Cooking pregame meals together and curling up beside him when he takes his pregame naps quickly become some of your favorite activities. 

You dance around the feelings talk, never quite broaching the subject. But it can’t feel this right if it’s all one sided, all in your head, right?

He’s even kind enough to let you drive his SUV even though the price tag makes you nervous every time you’re behind the wheel. You’re not a bad driver, as evidenced by the fact JT lets you drive the Audi, but you are possibly on this side of over cautious as a result of a bad car accident in high school. 

Three home games after your fight with Dylan and approximately zero words or text messages exchanged between the two of you, you find yourself in the passenger seat. 

“I could have taken the bus,” you protest weakly, almost knowing exactly what JT’s response will be. 

“Over my dead body,” he laughs, eyes flickering over to you before focusing on the traffic in front of him. “Just pick me up after practice or text me if you’re still out and I’ll find a ride.” 

“I’m not gonna leave you stranded at the arena, of course I’ll be there after you’re done.” 

It’s oddly domestic, kissing JT across the console and then sliding into the driver’s seat that he vacates. You wait as he grabs his gear and walks away, you do really love watching him walk away. 

The moment is cut short by catching a glimpse of your brother's vehicle. He’s not in it, obviously already inside the arena, but the sight of it makes your stomach clench all the same. 

Thoughts of Dylan and his disappointment and worry that he’ll never forgive you flood your mind the entire drive. So much so that when the next light turns green, you let off the gas without realizing that there is a larger SUV running the red. 

It all happens so fast. The screeching of tires, the crunching of metal, the pop of airbags going off and then a blinding pain in your wrist. 

In the end, you’re pushed into the wrong lane of traffic, the other vehicle damn near in the passenger seat you occupied only fifteen minutes ago. There’s a distinct ringing in your ears and you offhandedly wonder if this is what it feels like to get boarded. 

“Are you okay? I’m calling 911.” The words sound like they’re underwater, and it takes you several seconds to realize they’re being spoken to you. Turning your head to the side, you try to get the words out to say you’re fine, but you’re blocked by the airbag that has gone off near your head. 

Emergency services come quickly, a perk of living in Detroit you suppose. Embarrassingly, it takes the jaws of life to peel off the driver's side door to get you out. A cop takes your statement and then you end up in the back of an ambulance. Despite your assurances that you’re fine, one raised eyebrow from the female paramedic and the idea that you’ve probably broken your wrist has you agreeing to the ER visit. 

It’s then that someone asks you if there’s anyone you want to call. Heartbreakingly, your first thought is Dylan and your second thought is you’re not sure he’ll pick up. 

Your third thought is JT and his SUV that you’ve probably totaled. 

One of the paramedics helps you dial the equipment manager’s number, the one you were instructed to only ever use in case of emergencies. If ever there was a reason…

When he picks up the phone, you have to explain that you’ve gotten into a tiny fender bender and if you could please speak with JT and yes I mean JT not Dylan. 

“Are you okay?” JT all but demands when he picks up the phone. 

“I’m totally fine,” you fib, and then concede based on that same female paramedic once again raising an eyebrow. “Okay so I might have broken my wrist but–”

“Which hospital are you going to?” he interrupts. 

You tell him, but try to say, “It’s okay you don’t have to–”

He interrupts again, “I’ll be right there.”

He hangs up quicker than you can ask how he’s going to get there without the car that you’ve wrecked. 

True to his word, he’s sitting on a chair in your hospital room when you return from getting an x-ray. He stands abruptly upon your entrance and takes the three strides to stand in front of you before hesitating, like you’re made of glass. 

You take matters into your own hands and slide your good arm around his back, careful to not jostle your injured wrist. There's a slight tremor to his body that you feel run through yours. 

“I’m okay,” you say comfortingly, rubbing your good hand along his back before pausing. “Your car though….”

The tears are already starting to pool in your waterline as he pulls back. 

His hands slide to cup your jaw as he speaks seriously, “I don’t give a damn about the car. It can be replaced, you can’t.” A tear slips out before you can stop it and he brushes it away with his thumb before kissing you softly. “I care about you. So much. And that phone call scared the shit out of me.”

Despite the less than stellar background and circumstances, his words have your heart leaping in your chest. “I really care about you too,” you whisper and kiss him again. 

“Where is she?” you hear coming down the hall and it occurs to you that your brother is still your emergency contact. 

“Did you tell him?” you ask JT who promptly shakes his head. 

You don’t even have time to step back from JT’s embrace before Dylan comes crashing into the room. JT wisely pulls away and gives Dylan the space to place his hands on your shoulders and scan for any signs of injury. 

“I’m okay,” you reassure him but the words feel hollow considering they’re the first you’ve said to him in more than a week. “Broken wrist they’re gonna cast and probably a concussion. Can’t say the same for the car.”

Eerily similar to JT, Dylan replies, “Cars can be replaced–”

“But I can’t,” you say in unison with him. “I know, JT said the same thing.” 

It’s like Dylan remembers his teammate then, eyes sliding over to where JT stands and then back down to your slowly purpling wrist. 

The room is silent except for the sounds of medical equipment and the faint sounds occurring outside the door. 

“I’m sorry,” you say in unison with your brother again. 

“No, I'm sorry,” he says first. “I’m your big brother and I’ve seen you get your heart broken too many times. I’m always going to worry about you but I was out of line.”

“I’m sorry we went behind your backs and I’m sorry you found out that way. We should have just talked to you, I should have just talked to you.” 

“Truce?” he asks, like you’re 10 and 11 again, fighting over something silly and trivial. 

“Truce,” you confirm, hissing when you knock your broken wrist as you pull him in for a hug. 

Later, when you’ve gotten over the guilt of totaling JT’s barely used Audi and the cast on your wrist is long gone,  it’ll be a fun story to tell at parties. About how it took an idiot running a red light for you to define your relationship with JT and to reconcile with your brother. 

[wellofdean]

Thinking about @luckshiptoshore and her liveblog of watching Supernatural and how much I love following it and how great it is to watch someone just fucking ENJOY the show...

And then, there were a couple of people in my Discord who love the fic, but have never watched the show, and folks in there were trying to convince them that it was worth watching (duh!) and that knowing the show by heart makes the fic so much better and like yes, again... DUH! And then I was suddenly overcome with such a feeling of ENVY for all the people who still have the chance to watch Supernatural for the first time already knowing what happens in the end.

I mean, I watched 14 years of it in real time (after downloading and bingeing season 1) and at least I was clever enough not to be in the fandom trenches that whole time, and just enjoyed it for what it was, but the end broke my brain, and changed the whole show for me.

Because, like, here's what happens in Supernatural by the end: Dean and Cas are in love. It was not subtle. Dean can't say it because he never has a single moment of not being up to his pretty, pretty eyeballs in dealing with the ongoing and constantly multiplying trauma of being the man his father raised him to be, and god's specialest boy to boot, but in the end, Cas finally does just fucking say it. Not only that, he waits until he can use it to save Dean, and show him once and for all in an incontrovertible, undeniable way exactly how deeply and truly loved and SEEN he is.

When you watch it knowing that, knowing that the the whole story is going to end in that stupid bunker dungeon with Cas telling Dean who he is and dying to save him, the whole thing just HITS DIFFERENT, because the Dean of season one with his outcast liminality and pretty, pretty lips is the poor, lonely, weird boy who will one day be loved like that by Castiel, an angel of the lord -- an impossible Eldritch being who learned what love and selfhood are from closely observing Dean.

The consensus amongst most Supernatural fans is that it is trashy and bad and that its all evil queerbaiting, but I would contend that it's actually deeply entertaining, culturally rich and interesting (yes, even its flaws and missteps), often impressively well-written and acted, never puts on any airs about being prestige television or high art, but still manages to be ultimately epic and somehow sublime, and that it's a queer story, about queer love saving the universe, and it is so, so worth watching.

Like, my brainworms are not 'they strung me along all that time and then never let them make out', by brainworms are 'they told us so many times and in so many big and small ways, and now I need to watch every bit of it again and again and again so I can finally REVEL IN IT (and, friends, that is the Supernatural rewatch journey: realising it was ALWAYS THERE). My brainworms aren't 'but does Dean reciprocate??' they are: 'of course he loves Cas, and of course Cas knows that Dean loves him, and the one thing Cas can't have? That's just his chance at happiness and a soft epilogue with and for Dean, because Cas, impossible, cosmic, Eldritch being Cas, traded his chance at happiness for his family's lives and sacrificed himself for love of his son and Dean, because that is what you do when you love someone, and what he has watched Dean never stop doing for even a minute of his beleaguered life.'

And then, Dean dies (yes, it's stupid), and he cannot just go to heaven, drink a beer and hang out, he needs to climb into his magic soul vehicle, hit the axis mundi and tear the universe up looking for his angel and his happy ending in The Winchesters? Fuck me.

And like, it's the most romantic, and devastating story I have ever been told? And I love it so much?

[neuroticbookworm]

Rose's Day of Asks

What are some of the shows where your hyperfixation really thrived? (I have no idea if this sentence makes sense but I hope you get what I mean)

Have a great Day💜

I opened a blank doc and put this list together 3 minutes after I received this ask 10 (yes you read that right, ten) months ago, and then I let it sit in my drafts for no reason other than making myself miserable. Anyway, I woke up today and decided to release this into the wild, for.. reasons *wink wink*

Over the years of consuming media, I've observed that there are a few key factors of said media that heavily contribute to my hyperfixation brainrot:

Smart and snappy writing

Good romance arc that convinces me to believe in the couple

Treating the miscommunication trope as the plague that it is

And with that handy lil list, let’s get into it.

The Untamed / Mo Dao Zu Shi

I binge-read Mo Dao Zu Shi or The Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation during the 2023 Holiday Season, and my brain was immediately taken hostage and was not released from its grasp for several months. I then binge-watched The Untamed with @lurkingshan during the 2024 Holiday Season and promptly lost my mind yet again. For a story that handles so many nuanced characters and their complex relationships between multiple narrative threads, it coheres so well that it almost looks easy. From the politics of the xianxia world it is set in, to the decade-and-some-long romance arc between Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian, every part of this story is meticulously layered. Almost every character in this show evokes complicated feelings in me, and I am not gonna stop thinking about them anytime soon.

I Cannot Reach You

I’ve never felt so connected to a show as I did with I Cannot Reach You as I was watching it. It was as if the show had a direct line to my braincells, listened to exactly what I wanted from it, and then immediately obliged. Every boy in this show is so precious to me: Yamato, who tried so damn hard to confess his feelings to his best friend, no matter how many silly BL tropes tried to stop him; Kakeru, who tackled his best friend into a hug and held him in place so he can't walk away from him without talking about his feelings; Hosaka, the closest thing to a self-insert I’ve experienced in BLs, strutting around and calling these fucking boys out on their dumbassery.

This show has no patience for frustrating, overwrought trope silliness and prioritizes rooting its characters in their humanness. When Kakeru punched Yamato for trying to play a clumsy, pining romantic hero after conveniently forgetting his confession to Kakeru and then kissing him, I damn near ascended into a higher plane.

His (2020)

Oh this movie made me cry ugly tears after a long time, y’all. This movie, at its core, is about a bunch of people who tried so hard to not hurt the people they love, but ended up hurting them in the process anyway. Shun’s quiet sadness broke me. We see Nagisa in tears multiple times in this movie, always begging for forgiveness from the loved ones in his life: Shun, Rena, and Sora. Rena trying so damn hard to not let her anger, that stemmed from the trauma of being married to a closeted gay man, impact her daughter’s relationship with her dad and his partner, got me in my fucking chest. I think about the movie’s final scene where Rena tells Shun that she doesn't know how to ride a bike, at least twice a week.

Utsukushii Kare

The chokehold this show had on me for the two days I watched it, tearing my hair out in the process of trying to figure out what Hira’s and Kiyoi’s deals were, is second to none. I was completely fascinated by Hira’s idol worship of Kiyoi, and was trying so hard to understand the flavor of frustration that I could see in Kiyoi. I tried to solve Kiyoi’s face when Hira tried to commit murder like a goddamn puzzle. I went full bulletin-board-with-red-strings insane trying to figure out the inner workings of their brain. And when I finally got to The Revelation.. the scream I SCRUMPT. What a show, what a time, what an experience.

La Pluie

Ah, La Pluie, how I love you so dearly. It was one of the first BLs I watched as it aired weekly, and I had so many thoughts about it after every episode that I joined the La Pluie Meta Tsunami on Tumblr. This show consistently gave me brainrot week after week, all the way till the finale. It took the classic romance trope of soulmates, decided to deconstruct and interrogate it with its four main characters, and executed the themes flawlessly. I am still so glad that this show stuck to the courage of its convictions. And as always, here’s the link to The Great La Pluie Meta Roundup.

Theory of Love

*unleashes an evil witch laugh*

I sing praises for this show every chance I get, and most recently I did it on the latest The Conversation podcast episode. It is in that very episode that @bengiyo had a brilliant brainwave, which led to @lurkingshan conceptualizing and launching the Theory of Love: The Romcom Rewatch project at a speed that makes me fear her powers. This show is special to me for so many reasons, including being the one that made me break out of my lurker tendencies on Tumblr. I hyperfixated on this show so hard that I started *sharing my thoughts* on the Internet.

I am hoping to write many, many words for this show in the coming weeks, so lemme wrap up by highlighting how this show stands out from the rest on this list. Theory of Love has the most flaws compared to the other shows on this list. One of my main qualms with the show is that the side couples did not add to the main theme in any way, rendering them inoffensive, but ineffective additions. And yet. And yet. This show lives and will live rent-free in my head till the inevitable heat death of the world as we know it. The growth arc of Khai is one of my all-time favorites in media, and I think about it every time I see a fictional or real-life man behave as if they are deathly allergic to change. I am so excited for the rewatch project, and I can’t wait to share the thoughts that’ll be knocked loose in my head for the next 12 weeks.

Thank you so much for the ask, @my-rose-tinted-glasses, and I hope you like my extremely overdue response <3

[moments-on-film]

Moments on Film: Carmy’s True Purpose

Hello everyone! I hope you’ve been well. I haven’t posted in a while, life has been hectic, but I wanted come back to share a post I had been working on this Fall. It’s is a follow up post to my series, Carmy doesn’t know who he is yet. I have one more piece to share in this series. In the first piece, I explained how Carmy is not currently in touch with who he is and what actually makes him happy because his original passion, art, has been beaten out of him. So far in his life, Carmen’s done the only thing he thinks he can do, stay in the kitchen. But he’s not living a life and his heart is frozen.

Carmy is abused, traumatized, exhausted, and his heart is simply not in the kitchen anymore, and maybe it never was.

He suffers from severe nightmares, night terrors, and debilitating anxiety, and is sick and it all stems from trauma forged in the fires of the various kitchens of his life. Because of his extreme commitment to being a chef, and a great chef, he has absolutely no personal life, no friends outside of work, no joy, no sense of play or fun or happiness.

There are so many examples of Carmy’s heart not being in the kitchen anymore, from the first episode to the last. Carmy has also never fully exhibited the true characteristics, strengths and skills needed to be a great leader. This is why he always feels off. He’s not great at communicating, he is not in control of his personal triggers, which cause his personal life to impact his professional life, he is not good at any of the backend skills that are required to be the “captain the ship”, such as business acumen, finance, interpersonal skills. This is because being the leader of the restaurant is not his true purpose, it’s literally fixing everyone else up to run it without him and then leaving to go live the life he should living, and not his sad shell of an existence. He does have a very important leadership skill needed to do this: seeing beauty, seeing the best in others, and seeing other people’s strengths before they can see it in themselves. Let me explain. How Carmy’s skill will lead him to his ultimate purpose.

In season 1

When Carmy meets Sydney, he quickly assesses her skill and potential, and almost instantly relinquishes his power as the leader of the restaurant and bestows it on her, he says he will “dial business” and tells her, “you are everything else.” Ironically, he doesn’t even “dial business”, in S2, by calling the fridge guy, leading to his own downfall.

Carmy literally says “I can’t do this” in his nightmare in 1x8.

In the Al-Anon monologue in 1x8, Carmy states his purpose, maybe to “fix the whole family” by fixing the restaurant. This doesn’t mean his family by blood. As he tells Natalie in 2x9, “family is also not an exact science.” He’s talking subconsciously about his chosen family of Sydney, Richie, Tina, Marcus, Fak. And isn’t that what Carmy spent the majority of S2 actually doing? Knowing what each person on his team needs in order to be “fixed”, pushed to dig deep, make the most of their strengths, passions and gifts and achieve their ultimate potential.

A major major revelation for me that Carmy wants out and that he has no problem handing over the reigns to his capable team took place in the finale of S1. Sydney, not Carmy, brings Michael’s spaghetti to the table.

Gif source: @chefkids

This really stood out to me when I first saw it. I immediately thought, why isn’t he doing this? Michael gave him the recipe, it was the last thing he ever gave him, and he cooked it. It should have been Carmy. It really should have. Just like it should have been Carmy that created a dish named in honor of his brother. He didn’t. It is Marcus that has the honor. Again, the first time I heard Marcus say “the Michael”, when Carmy asked what the cannoli was called, I teared up and then said out loud, “that should have been you.”

In 2x1, Carmy tells Richie, “this shits not fun for me”, and tells Sydney “F stars”, and “we’re trapped” (if we get one). Look at his eyes in the gif below. He knows what it will mean and he doesn’t want to do it anymore.

When Carmy sees Claire in the freezer aisle of Potash Grocery store, he openly tells her he told Mrs. Kelly’s son “don’t do it” when he was asked advice on becoming a chef. Then he gets reflective and says, “I should really listen to myself.”

I discussed in a prior piece how “just keep going” has been Carmy’s mantra his entire life. It’s been his survival technique because it has had to be. He’s exhausted, traumatized, sick, in pain and desperately in need of a reset. In my opinion, in S2, he’s looking for any excuse to subconsciously jump ship, not be the captain of it, which is why he let himself get distracted with Claire.

For much of S2, Carmy is actually giving pieces of himself in the restaurant away. He gives Tina his knife, which is so sweet but it’s also a little jarring. He gives Marcus a “spot” in Copenhagen to train. Tina and Ebrahim get sent to culinary school. Richie gets sent to stage at Ever, a 3 Star Michelin restaurant. Natalie is the COO and has taken over the office. It’s no longer his, it belongs to Natalie. He is setting everyone else up to take over. Sydney is the CDC. He tells her, “it’s your ship now, Captain”, and she opens the doors, not Carmy, when it’s time to open. Carmy can’t do paperwork, or manage the business end of the restaurant, but he also isn’t contributing by innovating and being a consistent leader.

In the kitchen, two hours before the soft open, Carmy is finally “there”. He’s barking orders, catching everything he’s missed, but he is completely going through the motions. His commands are joyless. Sydney, Tina, and the crew say “yes Chef”, but there’s none of the teamwork, camaraderie, and dare I say, fun, as when Richie is running the pass and expoing with his whole heart when Carmy’s trapped in the freezer.

When Uncle Jimmy asks Carmy, “do you want to be the guy? Then be the f-ing guy”, you can see Carmy glaze over. No. Carmy doesn’t want to be the guy. Not the guy in the restaurant. Not anymore.

Even Carmy’s new monogrammed chef coat is another example of how Carmy is disappearing and fading away. His former coat had dark blue initials in an elegant cursive font. His new coat has his initials in plain font, in white stitching, barely visible, unless you look for it hard.

In the end, Carmy is locked out and left behind in his own restaurant because subconsciously he doesn’t want to be there.

I have written about this in various posts, but I truly believe Carmy’s character arc is to get back to his original passion, which is art. Michael knows this is a gift of his, and thanks to the menu sketches he drew for the new most important person in his life, now so does Sydney.

Michael’s final note to Carmen was the recipe for spaghetti for him to fix for family meal, the words, “I love you dude”, and “Let it rip.” But what if Michael was really saying find the money, take it and everything you’ve learned and FIX the family to go on with the restaurant without you (something Mikey was never able to do while he was alive) and then once you’ve done that, “Let it RIP”, as in Rest In Peace. Leave. Get out. Don’t be scared. Go for it. And discover the life you’re truly meant to be living.

©️moments-on-film 2023

[ginnyw-potter-archive]

Spilt Blood

Word count: 41K Rating: Explicit Tags: Regency AU, Arranged/Forced Marriage, spouse to lovers Updates weekly!

Ginny was raised by her great-aunt Lady Muriel so she could marry well. Ginny always thought she would get a choice but she ended up standing across from a man she had never met. During their wedding night she discovers the whipping scars caused by his cruel family. They are determined to void the agreement he had with his family. There is the need for an heir, and Harry’s reluctance to make one. Ginny navigates this new life as she gets to know her husband. Regency AU

Chapter 8: Flesh and blood (full chapter on AO3)

He did not look away from her once. He closed the door with his elbow and she heard the soft click. He did not have to tell her what was about to happen, she could tell in the way his gaze wouldn’t tear away from her, the way his lips were slightly parted as if he was nearly panting. It was the way his lips had already connected to hers before her feet touched the floor.

He kissed her with clear intent and she followed his lead. Her whole body was singing, rejoicing in his touch. She arched her body into his and got an approving hum against her lips. She revelled in the fact that he wasn’t holding back anymore. His arms pulled around her as he kissed her neck, leaving soft open-mouthed kisses. His gaze was loving and comforting, his pupils dark with arousal for her at last.

He had already seen, must have already seen something when he walked in on her moments before, so she wasn’t too afraid as she stepped back. She pulled the shirt up slowly and he watched without hesitation.

[cosmicanemoia]

Nights Like This

Ava Coleman x Reader

Inspired by Kehlani's song, Nights Like This.

"He dated me for five years, but I only dated him for 2"

The reason: you were together at the time, you see signs but you ignore them because you trust her, and when you found out and confront her, she didn't deny or even tried to apologise, but instead justify her action and calls it quit with you saying "Let's be real, we both know we ain't gonna last this long" with that she turns her back walking away from you and leaving you in tears.

Five years of relationship and it ended for a few seconds just like that. The first two years were great, but it started to strain on the third, that's when she met her boy toy, now boyfriend. She managed to lie and lie, the hiding, and sneaking out went out for years, but she got sloppy and you accidentally found out when she made reservations for both at the same time.

"Hi. Uh this table is reserved for me and my girlfriend" you said to the guy who sat opposite you. "No. This is the table reserved for me and my girlfriend" when Ava arrived, the guy grabbed her hands and kissed her, calling her sweetie. You watch in horror trying to figure out what's happening in front of your very eyes. Flashbacks started flooding your mind, showing the all the signs and reason for the scene in front of you, and all you could mutter was "I'm such an idiot" you scoff and started to collect your things before a tear starts to fall from your eyes and went out the restaurant.

Ava followed you outside. "Hey babe--" ava started talking but you cut her off "Don't babe me. I'm such a fucking idiot. How can you do this to me?" She didn't answer. You face her and lock eyes with her "How long?-- How long have you been seeing him behind my back?--" You wait for her answer, "I don't know three years, maybe" she said without remorse, your jaw drop by the revelation "oh- my- god-" you put your hand on your mouth, your breathing heavily "you should have broken up with me, instead of rubbing it in my face" she yelled at you "I didn't meant for you to find out!" "Oh. So you don't plan on telling me. Hey girlfriend I secretly have a boyfriend and I don't want you to find out" you mock "I love you and I really like him. I don't wanna hurt you" she said and you scoff "That's very foolish of you" you tell her and it triggered her "Let's be real, we both know we ain't gonna last this long" then she left and went in the restaurant to continue living her merry life, and your left with a hole in your heart.

Her obsession in climbing the social ladder makes her a cheater. And you can't hate her for being ambitious and doing anything she wants just because, even if you can, you won't, and you would never because you love her way too much more than you should. Maybe you failed showing her how much she meant to you or maybe she just didn't saw.

-------------------------------------------------------

You now run a non profit organisation with your friends who are also your colleagues from your actual job.

You are a ghost writer. Not caring much about the publicity or fame, you love being a ghost writer. Though sometimes people convince you to agree to be credited and have your name along with the other writers, they said only few people look for the writers nowadays. You agreed in the end, but you told them they have to use your pen name and not your actual name or else you're out.

The songs and stories you ghost write are doing pretty great and are instantly becoming a hit and more request comes your way.

You and your friends were out celebrating your joint success and you all agreed to give back to the community.

You and your colleagues ended up deciding to do a Charity event rather than choosing to donate to just one establishment.

Every teacher and principal are invited. All kinds of people who works at a school is encouraged to attend.

-------------------------------------------------------

Gregory, Jacob, and Janine, were sitting on the sofa in the teacher's lounge while Barbara and Melissa sat in their usual spot.

Janine suddenly stands up and squealed eagerly "check it out. There's a charity ball and we should all attend" Ava walks in unnoticed

It was Janine's idea to attend. She was scrolling through her phone and she saw her feed flooded by the news of the upcoming event. One or the only best idea she's ever had. But Ava heard it "Oh. I was just about to tell you that. We all should come. It'll be fun, seeing you all dressed up and looking nice tonight" she looks over at Gregory "looking forward to seeing you in a suit, young idris" she proceed to wink at him and look at the camera to give it a wink too.

Janine frowned "the ball is on Friday night. It's still Tuesday" Ava looked at her up and down with a pout on her face "that's literally what I said"

The bell rang signaling the end of lunch and everyone dispersed. Everyone went to get their kids or went right to their classroom. Ava went to her office and open her laptop checking the charity ball Janine was talking about.

She saw the poster and the slogan. She thinks its well made, pretty, and inviting. She didn't read all the details and just skimmed it for the date and the theme. She didn't see your name on it, she didn't know you were one of the hosts.

---------------------------‐---------------------------

The night of the charity ball have arrived.

Everyone looks elegant. People converse with each other while waiting for the hosts to start the event.

After a minutes of waiting for others to arrive you decided to kick start the event so you walk up the stage and tap the microphone, checking if its on or working.

You cleared your throat and speak loudly and clearly "Hello, Beautiful people. I just want to steal your attention for a brief moment. I am Y/N Y/L/N. I am one of your hosts tonight and I invited generous people whom you can ask for money and get the fund you needed for projects or supplies you want to have at your school. Let's get this party started, and oh- one more thing, don't be shy to ask for the stars. Have a good one everyone, we have an open bar."

Everyone applaud and cheers. A whoo and a whoop whoop here and there, high fives all around, and loud whistles.

Janine, Barbara, Melissa, Gregory, and Jacob walk towards you and surrounds you. They introduce themselves and the school they teach from. You shook each of their hands and you listen to their stories.

You were convinced you were going to help and donate at Abbott elementary. Not because of their sob stories but because the genuinity you feel coming off their vibes and the way they talk about the students. They truly love and care for them.

Another school steal your attention from them, so you excuse yourself to listen to the others and give them their chance.

When you were away from them, they noticed that someone was missing from their group. So they scan the area and they saw their boss, the principal of Abbot Elementary, Ava Coleman, is sitting in the open bar. They all decided to walk up to the open bar.

"I'm okay. No need to check on me" she said without turning her head to look at them. Melissa snorts and Barbara grinned "I'm just here to enjoy and get shit-faced, kid" Melissa replied. "It is an open bar after all" Barbara added.

After one too many drinks they told Ava to talk to you and use her charm on you, unaware of the past you shared, their convincing her to woo you, so you would help and donate to the school they all care for.

Ava did what she was told, convince that she should at least give it a try and that she'll lose nothing, anyway.

"What's up?" She nodded in your direction. You chuckled "we don't have to do this. You can just ignore me all you want. I assure you it won't affect my decision" she looks away from you so you look at her and for a moment you thought she was contemplating saying sorry, but alas, it was indeed just in your head "OK. Thanks hottie" she starts to walk away from you "You're welcome. Shawty" you shouted for her to hear, you know she heard you and she did, but she didn't look back or acknowledge your statement she just kept walking away from you, again.

"That was fast" Janine complimented which made Ava scoff, "Do you too know each other well?" Jacob asked and everyone turns their attention to Ava looking at her with anticipation "What?!" She said in a high pitched tone. Everyone looks at her accusingly, she sigh in defeat "She told me, I should just ignore her and that we don't have to do that. She's my ex." Everyone groans and are shocked with the revelation.

"We're never gonna get that donation, are we?" Melissa said to everyone and to herself "Let's just hope she's not petty or vain enough to stop helping us because our principal broke her heart" She added and scoffs

"No. She's cool. She said it won't affect her decision.-- How did you know it was me who broke her heart?" Ava replied "Aren't you?" Gregory asked, she just look at them one by one and order a stronger drink to get her through the night.

You walk up on stage a little tipsy "Hi, people. Is everyone having fun?" Everyone cheered and shouted "YEAH!" You smiled to yourself "well let me add to the fun your having. I have a surprise guest. Everyone give a round of applause to my friend, Kehlani!"

Most of them cheered and applauded, standing up from their seats and walking closer to the stage, and some are shocked and kept where they were when you made the announcement with their jaws almost hitting the floor.

"Thanks babe. Good evening to you all. Here's a song I think you all know, what you didn't know is that she help wrote it with us" kehlani said on the microphone and points at you.

It was dark for a moment and all the lights went out until the song started playing and the small stage light up.

.......Thought you was mine, but you decided to be with him though. You took my feelings and just threw 'em out the window.......On some nights like this, shawty, I can't help but think of us.......You gon' say you want me, then go switch it up

Just gon' play with my emotions just because, no.......All them times I played the fool for you. Thinking we could put it back together, thought we had forever. You never see my point of view.......

Since the song started everything became a blur, 'I might have way too many drink' you smiled at yourself and went to the bathroom to wash you face.

Ava saw you making your way to the bathroom and without thinking her body moved on its own and decided to follow you there to check up on you.

When you lift your face up from the sink after splashing water on your face you saw a figure standing behind you, you took a paper towel and gently wipe the water off your face. Your vision cleared and the figure behind you was ava staring at your reflection.

She crept a hand on your back to try to give you comfort planning to ask how are you, but you dismissed her "Don't" and you walk out the bathroom leaving Ava dumbfounded.

A few seconds later you came back barging in the bathroom door. You walk up to her, you are now standing face to face, "I told you to ignore me. Why are you here? What do you want?" You stated, your voice laced with anger "I didn't know you know Kehlani and that you help wrote that bop" Ava said, always talking without thinking, a quality you once greatly admire.

You were quite for a moment, "You want to meet her." You look down and nodded. You look her in the eye and sigh you were about to say 'okay' but she speak first "I want you. I miss you. I'm sorry." her eyes glistened and you could feel she's mustering courage for what she's about to do, then she kisses you softly and gently, but you are not reacting or moving so she pulls away from you.

A tear was about to fall on her eye but before it happened you grabbed her hips and pushed her against the wall. You linger, your lips centimeters away from hers, you moved your nose to her neck and inhaled her scent "you copied my perfume" the heat of your breath on her neck makes her blush and have goosebumps. You slide your nose up and down her neck, teasing her.

"Please" she beg, desperation evident in the way she said it. Her arms start to wrap around your waist but you didn't let her, you grabbed her arms and pushed it beside her, "I didn't tell you, you could touch me" you said then you slide your tongue on the pulse point on her neck

"Please. Please. I'm begging you, just do it" she said while she's catching her breath, she seems like she just finished a long run "do what?" You tease her more.

"F- Fuck. Fuck me. Please." Her breath hitches. You kiss her neck then bite her and leave a mark. She let out a moan but it was quickly Interrupted when you finally kissed her on her lips.

You lift her up and sat her on the sink. You smirk to yourself thinking where this is going to go.

You heard the doorknob rattled and quickly pulled away from Ava, you look in the mirror and try to fix your posture, she jumps down the sink to do the same. It was Barbara, she came to the bathroom to wash her hands.

"Barbara you're fired" Ava said jokingly, Barbara replied sarcastically "Sure. Dear"

Ava scans the bathroom looking for you, you already went out when you finished tidying yourself when you got Interrupted. She went out the bathroom when she didn't saw you, she scans the room and saw you slow dancing with someone.

You're dancing with the famous singer, your forehead clashing at each other while your arms are around her neck, and hers are around your waist, hands almost or actually touching your butt.

Ava stopped on her tracks when she saw you in somebody else's embrace. Her chest tightens and she's hurting. She gulped and tried hard to make her body move to the bar, and when she get there she ordered the strongest drink they could offer. She wants to spit it out and be disgusted but with the bitter drink, she also swallows the bitter truth. You were not hers anymore and she knows she's the reason why.

[artsymumof5]

A LETTER FROM YOUR HEAVENLY FATHER! The following words come from the heart of God. After all God loves you, and He is the Father you have been looking for all your life. This is His Love Letter to you! My Dear Child, You may not know me, but I know everything about you. (Ps 139:1) I know when you sit down and when you rise up. (Psalm 139:2) I am familiar with all your ways. (Psalm 139:3) Even the very hairs on your head are numbered. (Matthew 10:29-30) For you were made in my image. (Genesis 1:27) In me, you live and move and have your being. For you are my offspring. (Acts 17:28) I knew you even before you were conceived. (Jeremiah 1:4-5) I chose you when I planned the creation. (Ephesians 1:11-12) You were not a mistake, for all your days are written in my book. (Psalm 139:15-16) I determined the exact time of your birth and where you would live. (Acts 17:26) You are fearfully and wonderfully made. (Psalm 139:14) I knit you together in your mother’s womb. (Psalm 139:13) And brought you forth on the day you were born. (Psalm 71:6) I have been misrepresented by those who don’t know me. (John 8:41-44) I am not distant and angry but am the complete expression of love. (I John 4:16) And it is my desire to lavish my love on you. (I John 3:1) Simply because you are my child and I am your Father. (I John 3:7) I offer you more than your earthly father ever could. (Matthew 7:11) For I am the perfect Father. (Matthew 5:48) Every good gift you receive comes from my hand. (James 1:17) For I am your provider and I meet your needs. (Matthew 6:31-33) My plan for your future has always been filled with hope. (Jeremiah 29:11) Because I love you with an everlasting love. (Jeremiah 31:3) My thoughts toward you are countless as the sand on the seashore. (Psalm 139:17-18) And I rejoice over you with singing. (Zephaniah 3:17) I will never stop doing good to you. (Jeremiah 32:40) For you are my treasured possession. (Exodus 19:5) I desire to establish you with all my heart and all my soul. (Jeremiah 32:41) And I want to show you great and marvelous things. (Jeremiah 33:3) For if you seek me with all your heart, you will find me. (Deuteronomy 4:29) So, Delight in me, and I will give you the desires of your heart. (Psalm 37:4) For it is I who gave you those desires. (Philippians 2:13) I am able to do more for you than you could possibly imagine. (Ephesians 3:20) For I am your greatest encourager. (2 Thessalonians 2:16-17) I am also the Father who comforts you in all your troubles. (2 Corinthians 1:3-4) When you are brokenhearted, I am close to you. (Psalm 34:18) As a shepherd carries a lamb, I have carried you close to my heart. (Isaiah 40:11) One day I will wipe away every tear from your eyes. And I will take away all the pain you have suffered on this earth. Revelation 21:3-4) I am your Father, and I love you even as I love my son, Jesus. (John 17:23) For in Jesus, my love for you is revealed. (John 17:26) And to tell you that I am not counting your sins. Jesus died so that you and I could be reconciled. (2 Corinthians 5;18-19) His death was the ultimate expression of my love for you. (I John 4:10) I gave up everything I loved so that I might gain your love. (Romans 8:31-32) If you receive the gift of my son Jesus, you receive me. (I John 2:23) And nothing will ever separate you from my love again. (Romans 8:38-29) When it’s time for you to Come home I’ll throw the biggest party heaven has ever seen. (Luke 15:7) I have always been your Father, and will always be your Father. (Ephesians 3:14-15) My question is….Will you be my child? (John 1:12-13) I am waiting for you. (Luke 15:11-32) With Love, Your Father, Almighty God

[ayudala]

Today I present to you an absolutely non-delusional analysis I’ve made for over a year now. The song “Man on the Moon” by Alan Walker and Benjamin Ingrosso reminds me of Luke Skywalker and Anakin Skywalker/Darth Vader’s story in the events of the Original Trilogy. The more I listened to this song, the more I felt it was made for them so I will proceed to explain:

“What happens in dreams where we fly?”

It’s the first line in the song, and casually one of the first introductions that is given to us about Luke’s character. He feels stuck, head full of dreams about flying away from the desert lands of Tatooine into the wonders of the galaxy

“Never been as high as tonight”

The battle of Yavin. Not only is Luke high up in the sky, but it’s a high point in his life. It’s the start of his long journey on a crucial mission which he succeeds, but that comes with pressure

“Staring through a window in time for someone to show me what I’m like”

The forever iconic horizon scene. The horizon acts as a window in time through which Luke stares into nothing and everything, thinking about the future that could await him. He hopes to find answers to all the questions he has about his past but everything just seems to make him more confused

“He said hello, it’s like a mirror in the sky”

The vision in the cave. When Darth Vader’s helmet falls to the ground and explodes, Luke sees his own face inside. That’s the mirror of his fear, the reflection of what he could become

“Oh boy, we looking good tonight and I just don’t understand”

Luke’s first duel with Darth Vader on Bespin in which he decides to tell him the truth, the big revelation. He is his father and this stuns him as well as his emotions. At that moment Luke is vulnerable physically and emotionally: defenseless, one hand and his weapon missing, clinging onto a bar to keep himself from falling and fighting to deny what has just been told to him. Vader tries to use this vulnerability as a way of turning Luke, but he can’t understand his restraint as if saying “Imagine how great it would be if we could rule the galaxy together as father and son, I don’t understand why you won’t cave into temptation and join the dark side”

“I met the man on the moon”

Initially Luke thought that the Death Star was a moon. That makes Vader, the man on the Death Star, the man on the moon

“I met the man on the moon, he wore his hat to the side”

When Vader asks Luke to remove his helmet so he can look at him with his own eyes for the first and last time

“I met the man on the moon, he asked if I had a light”

This part is difficult to explain, but it’s in Vader’s last moments that he understands Luke “gave him light” (made him understand that there was still good in him) but it was too late

“He told us to hold it together, we’re falling apart”

When Vader tells Luke that he was right. “You were right, you were right about me. Tell your sister you were right” acts as a sort of reassurance and a way of letting him know that nothing was in vain. Yes, his death couldn’t be prevented, but now he would die as a good man. They are both falling apart in different senses: Vader is literally falling apart, falling into his inevitable death. Luke is emotionally falling apart, grieving for the death of the man he saved but couldn’t save at the same time

“Lost, all my tears have turned to dust”

The Ewok celebration is seemingly a time to celebrate freedom, the threats of the Empire are finally gone. Happiness arises while Luke tries to process what he just lived, he feels lost. The dust can represent the ashes of the fire in which his father is being burned

“Maybe somebody is calling us, the man on the moon”

This can represent two scenes:

The one where Luke is talking to Leia about how he must face Vader and try to turn him back to the light. His instinct is calling for him to go and attempt to save their father, the man on the moon

And the one where Luke sees the force ghosts of his former mentors and his father. His father out of his suit, not as Darth Vader anymore, but as Anakin Skywalker

English is not my first language so there might be some mistakes, but I needed to share this and finally get it out of my system