#and if they wanted to go in that direction so be it! it's fine!

[nereidprinc3ss]

do you believe me now? | 10

in which spencer reid and inexperienced fem!reader manage to discuss the direction of their physical relationship between makeouts. reader isn't feeling comfortable at her apartment, so they plan their first trip together.

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this fic is 18+ warnings/tags: d/s dynamics but not smutty, softdom!spencer/sub reader, mild pda?, hint at switch!spencer, they talk about sex/how r feels about her first time, making out, r has long hair, almost dry humping if you're standing several miles away, unresolved sexual tension, teasing/flirting. don't like? don't read a/n: yayyyyy hi guys!! no idea when part 11 will be out. I missed them. I love them so bad. they are my favorite ever. they are so special to me 4ever. hope u missed them and ur just as happy to see them happy as I am :")

“Do you like eyelet?” Spencer asks, reaching up to grab a set of sheets you couldn’t. He insists that you let him get everything from the top shelf because it’s been handled less. 

You shrug, distracted by the angle of his jaw and the line of his throat as he retrieves the plastic package. 

It’s Sunday. Three nights in a row spent with him—the longest sleepover streak thus far—and you don’t want to go back to sleeping alone tonight. But you know it’s time. Both of you have things to attend to tomorrow, and you’re not exactly in the habit of getting things done when you’re together. All weekend you’ve lounged in his lap on the couch or tangled yourself in his arms in bed—fully clothed, of course. Spencer had suggested the no-sex rule on Friday, and you’re glad for it. You feel no pressure to be doing more when he’s kissing you or holding you. 

Of course, the concept of having sex again crosses your mind—when you’re washing your face and catch a glimpse of the bruises on your neck in the mirror, or when the tips of Spencer’s fingers trace idly over a span of exposed skin on your lower back as you watch a movie on the couch and you’re struck with desire, or you move just right and feel a tiny lingering twinge of soreness. There was a time when if you had Spencer Reid to yourself for three nights, a Navy SEAL wouldn’t have been able to pull you off of him. Now, when you think about the fact that there will be a second time, you get that butterflies-in-the-stomach feeling—but you’re not sure if it’s good or apprehensive. 

Either way, it’d be too much right now. 

You do miss feeling that kind of closeness with him. That intimacy. It can’t be replicated, no matter how many naps you take together. Probably something to do with brain chemicals and hormones. He could explain it all, if you were brave enough to ask. 

So you know it’d be too much… but it’s not that you don’t want it. There is also, of course, the issue of the way he looks. It’s not helping your cognition. It’s not encouraging you to make good choices. 

You’re not supposed to be thinking about sex. You’re supposed to tell him if you like eyelet. 

“Yeah, I guess.”

Spencer gives you an exasperated look and sighs. He’s wearing his glasses today. His hair is freshly washed and fluffy. The navy blue sweater he’s wearing is about the only step between a button down and pajamas for him, and he looks good in casual clothing. You chew your lip. 

He doesn’t notice your ogling. “You’ve said that about everything.”

“I’m really not that passionate about the fabric of my sheets,” you defend, shoulders rising and dropping. 

“Surely you like some of them less and some of them more. Usually you jump at the chance to express an opinion.”

Okay. Uncalled for. 

He’s obviously kidding. You overreact anyway. 

“You suck,” you mumble, brushing past him in search of something suitable for your bed. 

Spencer processes this for a moment and then trails after you down the aisle. 

“I suck?”

“Here, look. Bamboo. That’s good, right?”

Your boyfriend glances at the package you’ve selected, probably holding back a whole host of facts about bamboo farming in China. 

“It’s fine. Why do I suck?”

“Because you implied I’m opinionated.”

“I didn’t imply it. It was an explicit statement.”You groan petulantly and put the sheets back on the shelf with force. Spencer picks them up and follows you deeper into the store. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.” 

“You didn’t,” you huff, turning around to face him once you’re safely sequestered in a new aisle. The store’s not busy—an elderly couple roams for fake fruit and towels, humming vacantly to the Muzak, and a single mom wrangles her kids in a cart. Back here, it’s just the two of you. “Not really.”

“Then what did?” He asks gently, stepping closer. Spencer’s not overly-affectionate in public, but the tone of his voice, the way he’s looking at you like he can see your thoughts, feels intimate. 

You’re helpless when he gets like this, and he probably knows it. It’s an abuse of power and when you can think straight again you’ll have to scold him for it. 

“It doesn’t even matter. You’re just gonna drop me off after this anyway.”

He tilts his head like a curious puppy, eyes alight with a good puzzle as he quickly strings together the facts in his head. 

“Is that it?”

You frown and hesitate, eyes catching on a loose thread at the hem of his sweater. 

“… No.”

“Yeah, it is. You’re upset because I’m taking you home.”

You scramble to deny. “That’s not it.”

“I think it is,” he murmurs, a smile playing at the corners of his perfect mouth. 

You study the waxen floor tiles intently. 

“Well… I mean, would that be weird? You’re gonna miss me too, right?”

You sound unsure—insecure, even. When you look back up at him, his eyes are melted chocolate, even under the fluorescents. He glances down at your mouth briefly and then over your shoulder. 

Pleasekissmepleasekissmepleasekissme.

He doesn’t, but you can tell he really wants to, which is almost as good. 

“Of course, I’m going to miss you. But we’ll see each other soon. Probably tomorrow.”

“Unless you get called out on a case. But it’s not even really that. It’s just—how am I supposed to… I don’t know! We just spent three nights together. How am I supposed to go back to sleeping alone for a whole week?”

Maybe you’re too attached to him now, because acknowledging the thought which has been lurking all morning opens the floodgates that were holding back a sea of dread, and you feel it in every inch of your body. Five nights alone stretch out before you like an infinite, impassable forest. Friday is an eternity away, and there’s no guarantee he’ll even be here Friday night, if the team gets a case. 

Spencer somehow regards you with both curiosity and innate wisdom, like you’re a new specimen in a familiar field, for a long enough moment that your cheeks begin to warm. 

“Sorry, that was embarrassing. I’m being weird, it’s fine—”

Just as you go to walk away, he pulls you carefully back in by the wrist, even closer than before. 

“No. You’re sweet,” he murmurs, hand warm even through the knit of your sleeve. Gingerly you look back up at him. 

“But you’re not gonna miss me as much as I miss you.”

“Do not undermine my capacity for yearning. I missed you when you were brushing your teeth this morning.”

“Ooh. So clingy,” you tease, though you’re obviously delighted by the information, and he borderline pouts. 

“Don’t say that. Say you’re sorry.”

“I’m sorry,” you laugh as he pulls you to his chest, keeping you there with a hand to your back. 

“Okay. Now say you love me.”

For a moment you’re distracted by the proximity, the lowering of his voice as he brings you into his space and your faces are only inches apart. The smell of his body wash coming from both of you. 

“I love you,” you breathe, and it’s not as teasing as you’d meant for it to be as his eyes dart to your lips. 

Even though you’re bossy, is what you don’t say. 

This seems to please him, because finally, he’s tilting his head down and pressing a quick kiss to your lips. It’s still enough to make you lightheaded. 

“Apology accepted. I love you too,” he murmurs. And then he’s pulling back, trying to walk around you. “Do you wanna stop for coffee on the way back to yours?”

“Wait,” you order, suddenly listless and disoriented in the middle of the aisle. “You’re not gonna…”

Spencer frowns back at you.

“I’m not gonna what?”

“You’re not gonna… say it?”

“… I love you? I did say that.”

“No, there’s—usually when I do stuff you ask me to do, you say—”

Only when the first ray of understanding illuminates his face do you realize you actually shouldn’t have said anything at all. 

“Nevermind. Yeah, let’s just go.”

Spencer catches your arm again as you attempt to walk past him, laughing quietly as he leans down to speak in your ear. 

“I am not calling you good girl in the small decorative statues aisle.”

“What if we go back to the bedding aisle?” You ask, through the warmth of your own cheeks. 

It’s sort of a joke. 

“Remember what I said about appropriate context?”

“All those sheets, and duvet covers, and stuff. It’s basically the same.”

When he doesn’t respond, you gather the courage to tear your eyes from a little robot statue and look at him. Eyes ever-so-slightly narrowed, warmed only by a hint of humor. A barely detectable curve of the mouth. 

Oops. With all your blind-button pushing, you might’ve accidentally tapped the one responsible for all the marks on your neck—the one that makes him tick in a way which usually ends with you underneath him. 

And then, for the first time, you actually watch as he pushes it down—activates some sort of self-cooling system. Probably he understands that whether you meant to be provocative or not, this interaction isn’t headed in a salacious direction. Even if you weren’t in public, the rule is holding fast. 

His hand slides from your arm to intertwine with your fingers. 

“What are you doing next week?”

You blink at the sudden change in subject and tone. 

“Uh… I don’t know. Working, probably.”

“From home?”

“Yeah. Why?”

He chews his lip thoughtfully. 

“I… still have a few days of annual leave that I need to use. I don’t know if this is… this might be too much, and you can say no. But Rossi has a place in Shenandoah. It’s a cabin—it’s, it’s really nice, I’ve seen pictures. He used to use it for hunting, I guess now he rents it out in the summer and fall but it’s empty during the off-season and he’s always offering it to the team. It’s only like, an hour away. An hour and nine minutes actually, if you take the 66 Express outside the Beltway from Arlington. I looked it up, um… semi-recently. I’m sure he’d let us use it, if you wanted to come burn four days of leave with me. No pressure. Of any kind. I could also, just, y’know, stay home, and we could still spend time together that way. We could finish Deep Space Nine. Or watch something else. Or watch nothing. Whatever you’d like to do.”

Your heart rate has been increasing steadily since he started his impromptu speech—you’re glad he seems nervous inviting you. You’re a little nervous accepting. A trip together is definitely a new step. But getting the hell out of dodge with him for a few days sounds wonderful. 

“I’d love to go,” you say earnestly. 

Spencer’s face goes blank for a second, and then his eyebrows raise, like he wasn’t expecting you to say yes. 

“Oh. Oh! Great! Okay, I’ll—I’ll talk to Rossi about it tomorrow.”

He remains highly chipper as he hands his card over to the cashier for your new overpriced bamboo sheets. 

The promise of getting Spencer to yourself for four consecutive days and nights is the only way you’re able to fall asleep to a cold bed that night. 

It’s harder, at home now—you’re self-conscious of every and any noise. Music, cooking, talking on the phone. 

It doesn’t make sense, because you know you can���t hear your neighbors, so they shouldn’t be able to hear you, and Jerry’s a creep, who might’ve made the whole thing up just to get under your skin—but it’s all you can think about, when you’re there. 

Monday evening, Spencer comes to visit, as promised. You undo all the locks and open the door just enough for him to slip through. 

He kisses you hello as you close the door and sets his things down at the table while you relock. 

“No Jerry today?”

“Nope. I haven’t seen him since Friday.”

“Good,” Spencer says only once you turn, a distinct chill to his tone and a mostly unfamiliar frigidity to his eyes. It’s not directed at you, but it’s unnerving nonetheless, so you draw closer and wrap your arms around his waist—hoping to melt him back into your Spencer. 

He reciprocates, speaks softer now that he has you in his arms, and immediately you feel better. 

“Rossi said yes to us staying at the cabin and Emily said I can take the time off. Did you still wanna go?”

You’re pre-occupied with your face buried in his shirt, so you just nod, basking in the scent of his shower products once more. They’ve gone from simply comforting to intoxicating. 

“Is everything okay?” He asks quietly, brushing your hair over your shoulder. His fingers barely glance off your neck and you almost shiver. Want begins to pool deep and warm in your stomach as you lift your head and he looks down at you, so fondly. 

Want which you can’t afford to feel if you’re not willing to act on it. 

“I’m fine,” you breathe. Fuck. He’s too close. He’s too hot. You pull away and move to the kitchen. “Um, dinner. What do you want? We could make something. Or order something. I don’t have much, honestly.”

“I’ll be happy with anything. You sure you’re alright?”

“I don’t want to have sex!”

The words simply explode out of you, like a bat out of hell as you whip around. Just barely you manage not to clap a hand over your mouth in mortification. 

You stand, back to the fridge, watching Spencer nervously for his reaction. 

His brow knits. His lips part and close again several times. 

You’re wondering what the fastest and most convenient method of not being alive anymore would be when he finally answers. 

“… Okay. I wasn’t trying to initiate anything, did I—did I make you uncomfortable?”

“No! No, I’m sorry. I just… I wanted you to know that while I’m still, like, figuring things out—like, with my neighbor and everything—it’s just a lot, so… so I know this past weekend we agreed to not do anything and I think it would be best to… keep not doing anything. Just for now. I shouldn’t have said it like that—I didn’t actually… mean to say it. I was gonna, um, find a way to bring it up more delicately.”

You clear your throat and look down to study the patterned tile, cheeks burning. 

By way of several nervous glances up at him and back down, you watch Spencer silently come to lean against the counter across from you, arms crossed over his chest. 

“Okay. Thank you for telling me. We’re not ever going to do anything you don’t want to do. But, out of curiosity… is this just because of your neighbor? Or because you maybe don’t feel ready yet?”

He’s asking gently, because he wants to know, and you know there’s no wrong answer. It’s still nerve-racking.  

“Um… like, a combination of the two, I guess. Mostly… the neighbor. I think. But I’m telling you this because…” and here comes the worst part. “I need you… to… hold me accountable.”

“For what?” He asks plainly, but you know what he sounds like when perfectly suppressing a smile. The surface of the sun has nothing on the temperature of your face as you close your eyes and forge ahead in the name of open and honest communication—something the two of you are trying to work on.

“If I… come on to you… you have to turn me down.”

This is not getting any less embarrassing. 

“Should I anticipate you coming onto me?”

“Probably,” you sigh, looking at him through your lashes and bringing your hands to your cheeks, hoping maybe they’ll cool you down and poor circulation will work in your favor for once. “I know myself. You know me. I like… asking you for things. But for the rest of the week, if I do… you know, want something from you—you have to tell me no.”

Spencer nods slowly. “What if you genuinely change your mind?”

“I won’t. I might think I have, I might even tell you I have, but don’t believe me, okay? I don’t think straight when I’m turned on, and if we do anything, I’ll like it until fucking Jerry is pounding my door down the next day, and I just can’t deal with that.”

Spencer’s face goes completely void of expression to the point that if it weren’t for context clues you’d have no idea he’s probably imagining pistol-whipping the guy. 

“Has he knocked on your door?” 

Testosterone. 

“No. Back to my point. I’m trusting you to keep me in check so I don’t do anything I’ll… I’ll end up regretting. Not that I regret the other night!” You scramble just as Spencer’s brow begins to furrow. “I don’t. I just regret that my gross neighbor had to get involved. And I don’t want that to happen again. So… is that… is that okay? Will you do that for me?”

“Of course I will,” Spencer says gently, without hesitation as he pushes off the counter. “Can I ask a follow-up question?”

You nod and regard the space between you, unsure if you want to eliminate it or keep using it like a buffer. By not coming to you, he’s giving you the choice. 

“You said this was mostly because of your neighbor. But you didn’t sound sure. It’s fine if you aren’t feeling ready yet. I just want to make sure I know what’s going on with you.”

“I don’t really know,” you admit, after a brief pause. “I feel like… as long as I know he’s on the other side of the wall I wouldn’t even be able to wrap my head around how I actually feel. It’s also confusing because, like I was saying, I… just because I feel like I want something in the moment, doesn’t necessarily mean I’m actually ready for it, you know? I don’t even know if… I don’t even know what being ready again really means or would look like.”

“You did the other night.”

“Yeah, but that was different. Because now I’m gonna think I know what I’m getting myself into, but that’s not necessarily true.”

Another pause in which you chew your lip and look away. 

“I don’t want you to overthink it, honey. I think being ready just means you’re comfortable, and you’re with someone who’s going to keep you safe, and nobody’s pressuring you, and you’re not, you know—pressuring yourself. Wanting it is actually really important, too. But what I’m hearing right now is that even if you might want it, you’re not in a place that feels safe. And that makes sense to me. So we’re just not gonna do anything until that changes, okay?”

Eyes still cast downward, your lips twist into a sardonic little smile. 

“I feel like I’m talking to my therapist.”

He laughs with a single breath. 

“I really hope your therapist doesn’t speak to you like I do. The ethics there would be highly questionable.”

The joke refreshes your courage and you look back up at him, smile still edged with humor but mostly unspoken gratitude. 

The half-smile on Spencer’s face, however, is fading steadily as he studies you in flickering passes. Like there’s something still on his mind. You were hoping for a subtle invitation back into his arms, but the space between you remains—infused now with a tension as it becomes increasingly obvious. 

“Also… this trip we’re going on. I feel like I should say this—I don’t know if it was even on your mind, but… I don’t want you to feel pressured to have sex just because of the timing. Me inviting you on a last-minute trip to an isolated cabin—it’s not a master plan to get you to sleep with me again, I promise. I really just wanted us to be alone. Not—not that kind of alone—I mean, we’ll be alone, but it doesn’t have to be like that. I was just thinking about how nice it was for us to get those three nights together, you know, and the whole weekend too, and with my job, that’s not always going to happen, so it just seemed like a good opportunity—”

“Spencer,” you laugh, letting the tension snap like a rubber band as you go to him, slinging your arms over his shoulders, delighted to be the one doing the interrupting and not the flustered rambling, for a change. “I know you don’t have an ulterior motive. As for what kind of alone we’re going to be… we’ll figure that out, okay? Don’t worry about me. I don’t feel pressured by you. I never have. If anything, I’m the one who pressures you for sex.”

You’ve got him smiling once more, as his hands find your waist and his gaze flips from your mouth to your eyes and back again. It goes very subtly mischievous in a way you don’t quite trust, but he’s dipping his head to kiss you, and something tells you it’s going to be a good one, so when your nose bumps against his, and you can feel his breath on your lips, you’re not at all prepared for him to speak. 

“Begging is not the same as pressuring, sweet thing,” he murmurs, and then he’s kissing you so thoroughly you don’t even have time to be properly affronted. The offended gasp gets stuck in your throat, and melts into a tiny huff as it turns out the kiss is a very good one. You can’t think hard enough to be offended. Not even when he chuckles against you. 

“That’s not fair,” you mumble when he allows you a second to breathe. He hums, satisfying himself with kisses to your cheek and playing along. 

“What’s not fair?” 

“You… I was supposed to have the upper hand in that situation! You were the nervous one for once!”

Another hum, buzzing against your lips this time. 

“You have to learn how to take the upper hand, angel. I’ve had a lot of practice. It’s a big part of my job.”

Admittedly it’s hard to think when he talks like this, but you try. 

“So… you manipulate me? That’s not very romantic.”

He laughs quietly again. 

“No. I do not manipulate you.”

“You’re just a control freak,” you tease. 

“Yeah,” he agrees, immediately, still soft-spoken as he pulls back to carefully search your eyes. “Does that bother you?”

You search hands and knees for a crumb of outrage, for a hint of any of that strong feminist theory you’ve instilled into your brain over so many years. 

There’s nothing to be found. 

“No,” you admit, dejectedly, hanging your head as much as he’ll allow. “Should it?”

“Only if you don’t like it. When I take the upper hand like that, I’m really just… posing a yes or no question. So far, you lean towards saying yes. You let me win. But you don’t have to.”

“What happens if I… if I don’t let you win?”

He angles his head, coaxing you to look in his eyes once more. A hand comes up to swipe a dot of mascara from under your brow. He’s looking at you so serenely, like none of this is at all complicated. 

“Whatever you want. I wouldn’t be the one making the rules anymore.”

Oh. 

Oh. 

You laugh nervously. 

“That’s a lot of pressure. What if… I want you to keep making the rules? For forever?”

He kisses you again, insistently enough you have to tilt your head back. When he answers, it’s low, a promise, and pressed right against your waiting mouth. 

“Then I will.”

You loose a tremulous breath from your parted lips and you know he can feel it. He can feel how you’re clinging to his shirt, pressing yourself closer, how your skin has warmed and your breaths have hastened, he can probably taste how much you want him, how you’re already thinking about giving it all up for him—

And maybe that’s why he laughs dryly into your mouth before pulling away. 

Because he’s a good boyfriend. 

Spencer knits his brow and clears his throat as his hand slides down your arm, eyes narrowed like he’s wondering how things escalated so quickly. You certainly are. 

Suddenly he’s back to the nerd you met in a coffee shop all those months ago, and you like him like this, too. “So… dinner?” 

“Mhm. Yeah. We should… we should definitely eat. What do you wanna eat?”

You don’t miss the quick once over he gives you. Or the way his throat bobs once he tears his eyes away. 

“Um… how does Indian sound?”

You swear you don’t know how it happened. 

Everything was going fine—there was food on the coffee table, a show on the TV. Spencer made tea. It was wholesome. 

And then, somewhere between setting the plastic takeout bag down and actually opening it, you ended up like this. Kneeling next to him on the couch, one hand braced on his thigh, the other tangled in his hair as you kiss slow. Like this could actually be leading somewhere. 

“We should stop,” he reminds you, even as his hand traverses up your leg. You lean further into him—he has to tip his head back to meet your lips. 

“We’re kissing. It’s nothing.”

“You were—” kiss. “Just telling me—” kiss. “That you don’t want this right now.”

Deep kiss. The grip he has on your hip does not agree with his words. 

“This is just kissing. Kissing isn’t sex.”

Even as you’re saying it, you’re throwing your leg over his lap, landing in a straddle. 

“No,” he groans as if pained, throwing his head onto the back of the couch and depriving you of his mouth. “Baby. You have to get off. We can’t do this.”

“My bathroom—we could—it doesn’t share a wall with his apartment, we could go in there and turn on the shower and we could be really quiet—”

Suddenly there’s a hand over your mouth. It’s not yours. 

“Please stop before I say yes.”

You pull his hand away, fingers wrapped around his wrist. 

“You should. You should say yes. It’s a good idea, I know he wouldn’t be able to hear us over the shower—”

“It’s not about that. It’s about the fact that you asked me to turn you down not even an hour ago, no matter what you say, and I said I would.” He takes a shuddering deep breath. “And… I’m going to. I’m saying no.”

“No,” you whine, head falling to his shoulder, because you know he’ll keep his promise. He cups the back of your head—a kind, sympathetic gesture, which does nothing to alleviate the heat of your blood or the ache between your legs. You pout into his neck. “This is terrible. I might not survive.”

“I think you will.”

“Maybe if I enter a coma.”

He laughs and strokes your thigh. 

“There are worse things than sexual frustration.”

“Not right now. This is the worst thing I can imagine.”

“I’m so sorry. You poor thing.”

You pull back to face him, hands on his shoulders. 

“Oh my god. Don’t act like it’s not bothering you.”

“I’m not bothered.”

“I know that’s not true. You know how I can tell?”

The slightest adjustment of your hips draws attention to exactly what you mean. Spencer goes completely deadpan. 

“Stop,” he orders in monotone, and you laugh even you allow yourself to be tossed back onto the couch because you’ve successfully flustered him again. He puts a throw pillow over his lap and leans forward, hiding his blush beneath perfect hands with a tortured groan. “You’re terrible.”

The couch attempts to suck you in as you wriggle back from a lying position, propping yourself up on your elbows and grinning at him. 

“I did it,” you gloat. 

He angles his head toward you, revealing half a pretty face, still dusted red but now with all the markings of inquisition. 

“You did what?”

“I took the upper hand.”

Those dark eyes narrow and before you can think to retract your legs he’s wrapping his hands around your ankles, pulling them over his pillow and leaving you flat on your back once more. Again you giggle. 

“You took nothing,” he asserts, but you’re not bothered—still smiling as you accept your new position and toss your arms above your head casually. 

“Somebody’s a sore loser.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Eat your curry.”

“Sorry, I’m full. From, you know, the taste of victory.”

He exhales a dry chuckle, leaning forward to finally retrieve the containers of food. 

“I can’t believe I ever let you call me a nerd.”

The rest of the evening remains PG. Conversation flows and trickles comfortably over dinner on the couch, and afterwards, he suggests a documentary. From the outside, it might not look like much—but to you, with your head on his chest as the TV casts its flickering, ghostly light over the room, with the beating of his heart against your ear and his breath against the top of your head, it’s everything. Six months ago you didn’t know what it was to exist so comfortably around another person like this. Now, though he feels familiar and safe, you don’t take it for granted. The novelty of something so simple is not lost on you, and you feel like the luckiest girl in the world as your eyes begin to flutter. You’re lucky to have someone you feel completely safe with. 

Spencer murmurs your name like a question.  It buzzes against your ear. You hum in response. 

His thumb fans lines over your shoulder blade. “Can I ask you about something?”

“Mhm.”

“The other night… we didn’t really get a chance to—to debrief, afterwards. Which is fine, you were tired, it was late. But then the next morning I had to go, and everything with your neighbor happened, and we talked about that a little bit, but… but earlier, it sounded like maybe you… I don’t know. Maybe you weren’t feeling good about how it happened?”

“Spencer, I told you I don’t regret it,” you remind him, pushing up from his chest to look him in the eye. His hand slides down your back. 

“I know… I just wanted to give you another chance to talk about it. In case anything was on your mind.” He frets over your hair, an invisible speck on your skin. Like he’s nervous. “And I want to make sure you’re feeling okay about how it went. I know what happened the next day was an unfortunate addendum, and I’m sorry about that. As soon as you give me permission, I will have him arrested. But I don’t want that to overshadow your experience.”

“It’s… not,” you breathe, fiddling with a button on Spencer’s shirt. 

“So how did you feel about it? Barring anything external?”

“Good.”

Spencer strokes your jaw with a knuckle, gently admonishing. 

“Don’t just say that. Think about it.”

“I have,” you assure him immediately, cheeks warming as you realize just how swiftly you’d replied. 

What a lovely button. Mother-of-pearl. The shirt is a pale lilac. It looks good on him. One of your favorites, actually. 

Spencer lets you pick at it. He would probably let you pull the button off, tear every stitch on the shirt with a seam-ripper if it helped to soothe your nerves. 

“I’m not trying to embarrass you, or make you uncomfortable. We don’t have to go into explicit detail. I know it still feels weird to talk about. But it’s something we do have to talk about.”

“I know. And I would bring it up if something didn’t feel right. But it… was…” you chew your lip as you think of a way to phrase it that doesn’t sound too mushy-gushy. “Overwhelmingly… a very positive experience.”

“You sound like Yelp review,” Spencer says through a smile. You attempt to smother the continual heat of your embarrassment against his shirt. He’s seen you at your most vulnerable, more intimately than anyone ever has before. And you’re still shy about acknowledging that fact. 

“Shut up. Say something nice back.”

With a typically gentle hand, he pushes hair away from your ear. 

“I…” he begins meaningfully, taking a moment to sweep your hair over your back. “Feel incredibly grateful that you trusted me to take care of you. I know that’s big for you, and I know it can be a really scary thing. Mostly I’m happy you’re happy. And that I didn’t mess up irredeemably.”

“What would you have messed up?” You laugh, retreating from your shelter against his chest to knit your brow. 

He makes a face in the half-dark like he shouldn’t have said it. 

“Uh… that… veers into explicit detail… and possibly too much honesty.”

You laugh again and adjust to frame his sheepish smile between your hands. 

“I see. You have to keep your mystique in tact.”

“I really don’t think it’s that much of a mystery.”

“Well, I’ll spare your ego.”

“Wow, thanks. For the first time in your life.”

You go in for a chaste, smiley kiss, which stays sweet and kind even as it melts into something stickier. 

It comes to a turning point and Spencer inhales deeply, gently angling his head away and shifting to check his watch. You collapse on his chest, catching your breath. 

“I should go.”

“No. I feel like you’re going away to war.”

“I’m going to Court House. Where I live.”

“What if I never see you again?”

“It’s twenty minutes away. So you could always just drive.”

You frown. 

“I hope you get trench foot.”

“You know seventy seven thousand soldiers died from trench foot in World War Two?”

“Obviously I did not know that.”

“Well, next time you should just say you want me to die. Up.”

He pats the back of your thigh and you push off of him, only after considering trying to hold him hostage for a split second. 

You hover by the couch like a ghost, watching with increasing anxiety as he gathers together the empty containers from your meal and throws them in the kitchen garbage before collecting his things. 

There is one thing—one potentially difficult thing you haven’t mentioned to him that seems to be a direct consequence of finally sleeping together. 

You’re clingy. 

Clingier than you’ve ever been. It didn’t seem possible to want to be around him more than you already had, but now when he’s gone you feel his absence like a vacuous hole by your side. Without his warmth, you’re always a little colder. A little less comfortable. 

It’s embarrassing to admit that you’re starting to get separation anxiety, so you won’t put it into so many words—but you think, as he turns, slinging his bag over his shoulder with a knowing look, that he understands. 

At the same time, you begin to close the space, meeting gently in the middle, toe to toe. You keep your hands behind your back, afraid that otherwise you’ll try and glom onto him like a barnacle on a ship’s hull. 

“There are some things I’d like to get done this week so I don’t have to worry about them during our trip. So I might not see you for a day or two.”

Dutifully you nod, though you’re slightly crushed. 

“That’s okay. We’re grownups.”

“I don’t know,” he tuts. “I’m worried I’m gonna start writing my name with your last on all my notebooks.”

That stupid, stupid charm. 

“Mm… I’m kinda out of your league,” you grin. 

Spencer’s smile wanes slowly, but his eyes remain soft and aglow as they explore your face as reverently as his hands would. When he speaks, it’s in an honest, borderline whisper. “I’m acutely aware.”

Slowly his head dips, and your eyes flutter shut. A sweet, lingering kiss lands on your cheek. Then he’s pulling back. 

“That’s it?” You can’t help but ask, peering up at him and barely concealing a frown. 

He smiles that lovely smile, but by this point you’re attuned enough to his facial expressions to recognize the subtle heat playing just beneath the surface of those golden-oak eyes. 

“What? Did I give you the impression that I put out?”

“It’s just a kiss.”

That teasing edge becomes ever so slightly sharper as he regards you, head tilting. 

“Mhm. And the last time you said that—was it before or after you mounted me?”

You shoo him away pretty quickly after that—partly for discipline, and partly because the sooner he’s gone, the sooner you’ll go to sleep, and the sooner it will be tomorrow. 

And this trip can’t come soon enough, because you’re pretty sure you know exactly what kind of alone you’d like to be with Spencer Reid.

[moonstruckme]

Hi! I hope you’re doing well! Your account has been such a comfort for me these past few months and I’m so grateful for you! I was wondering if I could request a poly!marauders drabble where one of them calls the reader a pet name but they’re still really new to the relationship so they don’t realize that he’s talking to them?

Thanks for requesting!

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 598 words

You take quiet, giddy pleasure in the chaos of all four of you in the boys’ kitchen. It’s not the tiniest of kitchens, but small enough yet that you can’t move about without brushing or bumping various body parts into each other’s. Honestly, you wouldn’t want to. 

You find yourself deeply enamored by the sound of your knife hitting the cutting board in time with James’, by the way Remus touches your back to reach into the cabinet above your head and Sirius sneaks little bites of your unfinished dinner and slips you some too. Your voices overlap and intertwine, making requests or directions while you dice potatoes at a steady pace. 

“Would you call these finely chopped?” 

“Yeah, I’d say so.” 

“Give that a stir for me please, love.” 

“Where do you guys keep the spices?” 

“Jamie, I’d say that’s more than enough cheese.” 

“Spices are right in that cabinet above you. See? Yeah, there you go.” 

“If, in theory, I forgot to get paprika at the store, would cayenne be a decent substitute?” 

“Do we have chili powder?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Use that.” 

“Would you pass me the thyme, sweetheart?” 

“Sweetheart?” 

You turn only when the kitchen is silent. Remus is looking at you, kind eyes kindly prompting. He nods to just above you. 

“It’s in the spice cabinet there,” he says. “The dried thyme.” 

“Oh.” You blink, reaching for it. “Sorry, I didn’t think you were talking to me.” 

“That’s alright,” says Remus. He takes it from you, a bemused smile playing on the edges of his mouth. “Thank you.” 

“Why wouldn’t he be talking to you?” Sirius asks. 

“I don’t know.” You return to your potatoes, knife thunking against the wooden cutting board. “There are four of us in here, so.” 

Sirius makes a humming sound you know means trouble, and then his arms are needling underneath yours, winding around your middle. His voice is saccharine beside your ear. “Do you not think you have a sweet heart, my love?” 

You laugh. “Don’t,” you say, though you let some of your weight lean backwards into him. Sirius takes it happily. 

“You know you’re our sweetheart.” You may never get used to this, how Sirius can go from teasing to earnest in a second. You can’t always tell which is which, either. He seems to find something worth notice in the crook of your neck, resting his lips there in a long, funny kiss. “Don’t you?” 

You roll your eyes. James shoots you a grin. “I just thought,” you say, “that he might be talking to one of you.” 

Buried beneath your jaw, Sirius makes a noise of disapproval. 

“What?”

“You knew he could be talking to you too, though, right?” James prompts. 

You shrug, moving your eyes back to your work. “I guess.” 

“You guess?” Sirius sets his chin on your shoulder. 

“It just didn’t occur to me in the moment,” you admit. Your potato pieces are getting smaller and smaller. 

Remus laughs. “That won’t do, dove.” 

“See,” you point, smiling, “that one I know.” 

James laughs, too, bumping your hip. “I’d hope so! We’re going to need to start calling you things more often, get you used to it.” 

“I just wasn’t expecting it.” You’re shrinking in on yourself a tiny bit now. Sirius only holds you closer, cooing. 

“Start expecting it,” Remus advises you. 

“Let’s practice.” James raises his eyebrows at you pointedly. “Angel, would you pass me the salt?” 

You huff a laugh, grabbing it for him. “Sure.” 

“Such a quick study!” Sirius praises, mushing another kiss to your cheek. “That’s our girl.” 

[samgirl98]

Heart Stopper

Written for @silverblueglitter, I hope you like it

Danny’s body had developed a bad habit: his heart and breath would stop while sleeping.

If it hadn’t been for Jazz freaking out one Saturday afternoon after finding him, presumably, dead on the couch when he had been napping, he probably never would have found out. After going to Frostbite and being told it was just a new normal for him, Danny stopped worrying about it. Besides, the ecto in his body ensured that he was kept fine and healthy while asleep or knocked unconscious. He made sure not to take naps in places where he could be found, which sucked when he was in school.

It helped that his friends and sister were there to aid in keeping him awake.

Still, half-life moved on, and Danny adapted as he did with everything else thrown at him.

For example, he was currently in Gotham, trying to find Batman for help. Although it had taken a lot of effort to leave Amity Park while it was under lockdown, he had been able to do it. Now, if only he could find Batman or one of his associates.

Danny looked at the vast city from above while invisible. He wondered where he should even start looking.

He sighed. Well, there was no point in wondering. Danny flew lower and started looking at the shadows. Eventually, he would find someone.

At least, he hoped so.

Danny flew around for a few hours before he saw a dark shadow moving. It was a woman with her face fully covered in a bat-shaped mask.

Finally, someone who could help. Danny landed on a different roof and detransformed. He would get the help Amity Park needed, no matter what.

____

In Cass’ defense, no one had ever sneaked up on her. At least, not that she could remember.

So, when she heard a voice suddenly speak behind her, she reacted without thinking and kicked in the voice’s direction. Too late, she noticed it was just a kid—a kid who folded like a wet paper towel.

“Umph,” he said before going down.

“Oh, no,” Cass ran toward the boy to make sure he was okay.

Cass knew the moment she saw him. She could read the body better than a children’s book. The boy wasn’t breathing.

He was dead.

Still, she put her fingers on his neck, hoping against all hope that he was fine, that he was alive.

She exhaled sharply; there was no pulse, no breath.

Cass felt her body go ice cold. Her heart stopped and started beating double time.

She had killed someone. Not just anyone, but an innocent boy. What would Bruce think? The rest of her family? Would they kick her out?

Cass felt sick.

She took off her full-cover mask and threw up.

She killed someone. She killed someone!

With shaking hands, Cass turned on her coms.

“Black Bat to Oracle. I need help.”

“This Oracle, what’s wrong,” came the automated voice through the com.

Cass sobbed.

“Black Bat, what’s your status?”

“I did something bad,” she whispered. “I—I accidentally. It was an accident!”

Cass got to her knees beside the dead boy—the boy she had killed.

Oracle must’ve hijacked her lenses.

“Is that—is he dead?”

“Accident,” she wailed out.

“Black Bat, stay where you are,” Came Batman’s voice.

Cass felt relief and trepidation at the same time. Batman would fix this; he would make things right.

Batman would judge her; he could throw her in Arkham.

“Please,” she said, “please.”

Cass brought her knees up to her chest. She was a murderer. A murderer! She killed someone, an innocent boy who had done no wrong. She felt her stomach revolting again and turned around, not wanting to accidentally defile the boy by vomiting on top of him.

Cass heard the swish of a cape.

Batman was here. He went straight to her and held her.

“It’ll be okay. Tell me what happened.”

“I—I was patrolling when I heard a voice behind me. I didn’t think; I kicked out and hit him. Then he fell, and he was…he was gone.”

“Hmm,” Batman hummed. He took off his glove to check for a pulse. When he found none, he started doing CPR. Cass felt stupid. She could’ve been doing that. Instead, she wasted precious time freaking out. When the CPR did nothing, Batman took out a Taser and started electrocuting the body.

It was unexpected.

One second, the boy was dead; the next, he woke up yelling.

“What the actual fuck?!”

The boy got up and leaped away from them.

“Why would you electrocute me?”

“You were dead,” Cass said instead of answering the question, “I saw you. You weren’t breathing; your heart had stopped.”

“So you decided to electrocute me?”

“We wanted to bring you back,” Batman said, “we apologize.”

“You kicked me,” he accused.

“Yes, you surprised. I’m sorry for—for killing you,” she said.

“Hmm, you didn’t kill me; I was unconscious. I stop breathing, and my heart stops when I sleep, or I’m not conscious. It’s a quirk of mine.”

“What?”

“Yeah, sorry for traumatizing you,” he said while rubbing the back of his neck.

“Ask him if there’s a reason he snuck up on Black Bat,” Oracle asked.

“Is there a reason you were snuck up behind me,” Cass asked.

“Oh, yeah, there is actually! Sorry about that. I forget how quiet I am. Anyway, I need help from the Justice League, and when I saw you, I figured you could contact Batman.”

“Why do you need the Justice League?”

Cass never thought she would be so happy to see someone take a deep breath. She would listen to the boy and help however she could. That’s what he wanted: help.

“Have you ever heard of the Anti-Ecto Laws?”

So danny's heart stops when he sleeps it's annoying but thanks to the ecto in his veigns ot doen't really caus any problems

Unfortunatly it also stops when he's more forceably knocked uncosnious like say a punch to the face from a vigilantes when he was going up to let them know what was happening with amity park

Now the said vigilante is panicing thinking they just somehow punched kid to death now

[written-and-readen]

The Odd Are Slim But Never Zero Part 3

Moze, Phainon, Sampo x fem!reader

Part 1 (Dan Heng, Luka, Blade), Part 2 (Jing Yuan, Sunday, Gallagher)

Summary: Someone walks in on you

Warnings: nsfw (18+), penetrative sex (Moze), cumming inside, semi-public (Moze, Phainon, Sampo), marking (Sampo), getting caught

a/n: With Amphoreus comes more men to write for. I would've posted this much later if it hadn't come out. Lord help me when Anaxa shows up.

Moze

You thought Moze was supposed to be stealthy. Him coming out of invisibility scares you on the daily. Him fucking you in a random Yaoqing alley in broad daylight is a hard contradiction to that.

Your back is pinned against a wall as his cock pistons in and out of your folds. Your pants and underwear have been long discarded on a nearby crate. His gloved hand is wrapped around your thigh to part your legs, giving it a squeeze occasionally. Not only is he more bold by making a move on you out here, but he’s tougher than usual. Your pussy clenches, trying to get a grip just like you are. You don’t want to admit that some of the best sex you’ve had happened in an alley, but that may be the case because you also really don’t want him to stop.

“Are you okay?” You say as you fight back a flood of moans unsuccessfully. Something must be up to bring about this.

“Failed again,” He growls in your ear. He must be talking about another one of his attempts to assassinate Feixiao. The Shadow Guard keeps trying despite not being successful yet, but it’s only natural he’d be frustrated over it once in a while. Maybe he just wants to feel like he’s doing a good job.

“Moze!” You whine when he hits a particularly sweet spot in your pussy, a reminder of how good of a job he’s currently doing. It’s embarrassing how quiet he is while you can barely keep your noises from spilling into his ears. You try to muffle them in his shoulder as your legs quiver beneath you.

“Where do you think he went?” A familiar woman’s voice comes from nearby. A mere glance in its direction leads your eyes to connect with Feixiao’s piercing blue ones. It’s only a moment before you’re averting your gaze, face now burning. Did she recognize you in those few seconds? Oh, who are you kidding? If she didn’t, she’d at least recognize her own assassin.

You’re quickly reminded of the position you’re in with another swift thrust of Moze’s hips. You wonder if he noticed the general, but he seems pretty unphased. With his keen senses, it’s more believable that he’s just acting like he didn’t notice. You’ll think it over later sometime when you’re not being railed against a wall. For now, you just let the impending orgasm ripple through your body as Moze fills you up with the product of his own.

“You okay?” Moze helps steady you after the fact, hands on your waist.

“Yeah. You should probably get back to Feixiao,” You reply, still wondering about that brief moment of eye contact.

“It’s fine,” Moze replies. Once you’re dressed again, he picks you up bridal style so you don’t have to stand on unsteady legs. “She’ll understand me taking care of you after that. I think she could tell how much it was for you.”

Shit. You hide your flushed face in Moze’s chest. It’s going to be a while before you want to face the general again.

Phainon

You wish you could say the goosebumps on your skin were due to the cool water of the bath, but it’s definitely a result of a certain Chrysos Heir’s gaze. You can practically feel how Phainon’s blue irises trail across your body as you sit in his lap. The water only just comes up to your hips, leaving plenty of you for him to admire.

You’ve only seen each other naked a few times before and just briefly, so you can’t say you don’t feel the same. His muscular frame draws your eyes as well, slowly but surely leading them downward until you hit the water’s surface.

“Are you sure it’s okay for me to be here?” You hope switching the subject will take your mind off the tension. “I thought this bath was only for the Chrysos Heirs.”

“Well, you’re the guest of a Chrysos Heir. I’m sure that’s enough.” It seems like a weak argument to you, but his hands slowly running up your sides has you gasping instead of protesting. Previously resting on your thighs under the surface of the bath, his hands are still cool as they roam your skin, leaving water droplets in their wake.

“Phainon…” He’s just moments away from reaching your breasts but stops upon hearing you murmur his name.

"Is something wrong? Do you want me to stop?" His eyes meet yours as his motions cease. You pause and find yourself shaking your head.

"It's just...new." You avert your gaze, but a hand on your jaw brings you right back to Phainon.

"I'll take it slow, okay?" The way his eyes soften reveals the truth behind his words.

"Okay." You nod before he brings you into a kiss.

The warmth of his lips moving against yours has you melting into him. The water ripples as you lean closer. Your arms go to rest on his shoulders, hands brushing through the snow white hair on the back of his neck. Simultaneously, you feel his touch dance around your collarbone, twirling patterns making their way lower and lower. Finally, he lands on the curve of your breast. At the same time you gasp and break the kiss, he smiles, eyes flickering to watch your reaction. The light pinch he gives your nipple shoots pleasure straight to your core.

As you process the new sensations, Phainon presses kiss along the same path his hand traveled. Down your neck, over your collarbone, ending right between your breasts. Your brain hardly registers it all with the way his hands also move lower. Sliding down your waist, running across your hips, crossing your thighs, and moving inward until—

"Phainon." Both of you look to see the Goldweaver herself. Instinctively, your arms cross over your chest before remembering that Aglaea sees through her web of golden threads. Oh.... embarassment burns through your body at the realization she probably saw everything that just occurred in the bath before even stepping foot here.

"You better not be sullying the water." Aglaea warns in that usual silky tone.

"Well then, I guess we better go somewhere more private." Phainon stands up, taking you with him as his hands hook under your butt to support you. Looking over his shoulder as he carries you away, you swear the faintest sly smile forms on Aglaea’s lips.

Sampo

"We should not be doing this here," You say through gritted teeth as your back hits the cold stone of a wall in Backwater Pass. Despite the way you hate how Sampo's always trying to get in your pants, there's also something you equally love about it. His emerald eyes go wide as he pleads with you to let him eat you out in the alley or whatever other scheme he's had on his mind. He's lucky desperation is a good look on him.

"Stop me at any time," He purrs against the skin of your neck with the confidence of knowing you won't. It seems you've folded one too many times. You're getting predictable. At the feeling of his teeth grazing across your skin before choosing a place to strike, you can't find it in yourself to care though. Your head lolls to the side, letting him do as he pleases.

As Sampo marks up your skin, his hands deftly undo the buttons of your shirt. He lifts your bra up to see how Belobog's chilly air has your nipples perking up. There's no hesitation in the way he takes a breast in each hand, squeezing the flesh as his mouth gets back to work.

“Sampo…” You moan right in his ear.

“Feels good, pretty girl?” Another moan falling from your lips is all he needs as response before taking it further. His thigh slots itself between your legs, and you eagerly grind down against it. From the stimulation on your neck, chest, and clit, it’s somehow too much yet not enough. The desire to have his cock filling you up slowly clouds your brain, but all a sudden it all stops.

“Sampo?” You whine, trying to regain your bearings to see why he stopped. Your brain starts to register voices, and when you look in their direction, you’re met with the Captain of the Silvermane Guards rounding the corner.

You can’t imagine what you look like right now. Clothes messily pushed out of the way so your chest is on full display and hickeys running down your neck. There’s little time to react before Sampo’s grabbing your hand and sprinting in the opposite direction with you in tow. You try your best to get your clothes somewhat back in order with your free hand as you run.

“We’re never doing this again!” You shout, hearing footsteps on your trail.

“That’s what you said last time, sweetheart.” Sampo gives you a knowing smirk. You hate that he’s right. And you hate that Gepard’s wide-eyed reaction to stumbling upon you maybe turned you on a little bit.

[vvanillal]

𓄹⠀𓈒⠀ㅤׄ Forbidden Desires꣑ৎ 𓄹⠀𓈒⠀ㅤׄ

Summary- You and Harry were supposed to be ‘Causal’.

Warnings- Harry Potter x F!Reader, Angst, Smut, Jealous!Harry, Possessive!Harry If You Squint, Fingering, Eating Out

Word Count- 2.6k!

A/N- AHHHH ANOTHER HARRY SMUT. I loved writing this one. Also don’t mind that the reader is a Slytherin 2 fics in a row. MY REQUEST ARE OPEN

It was a secret: you and Harry. You’d both made a promise to each other not to say anything. You also made another promise: no strings attached. It was hard, truly. Especially since it had been Harry. He could have any woman he wanted, and for some reason he chose to be… something, with you.

At first, it went fine. You could even say it was the happiest you’d been in a while; sneaking around with Harry. He would do sweet things, like pass you notes in classes you shared. ‘You look beautiful today,” one had read. That day, all you did was curl your hair; you hadn’t even put makeup on. Then, it became something he would just do. You were sure people noticed in class, when you’d giggle to yourself with a little piece of paper in your hand. You’d just be walking in the hallway some days, and feel someone pull you into a darkened corner. Harry, or you, were never even sure it was ‘safe’, but you never heard any talk about it. So you kept doing it. After every class, you looked forward to feeling a hand jerk you away from the crowd. He’d push you against the cold, brick wall, pressing himself against you as close as possible. His lips would nip at your neck, trying not to leave marks. Your breath would be heavy as you tried to be as quiet as possible. “Harry, we’re going to be late,” you’d whisper. “I just need to feel you for a few more seconds,” he’d whisper back, his lips parted against your collarbone. Each time, he touched you like he hadn’t in days. Harry craved you, all day every day.

Just like you expected though, the happiness didn’t last long. Soon, it became apparent that for Harry, you couldn’t breathe in the same direction as another man. You could tell when he was mad; you could see it in the way his stare was hardened with yours, and you could feel it in the way his touch was rough enough to leave bruises. “Harry? I know you’re upset, so tell me what’s wrong,” you said one day. You watched as he slammed his books shut and shoved them into his backpack; everyone else cleared from the classroom. His leg had been bouncing the whole class, and his fist was clenched on top of the table. He clenched them so hard his knuckles had turned white. “Don’t act dense, Y/N.” You watched as he stormed out of the classroom, leaving you to dwell. That had been the first time he’d genuinely been upset. It didn’t take you long to connect the dots, realizing the pattern. He’d only act like this when he caught you socializing with another man.

This particular time though had left the two of you not talking for days. You and Neville talked a little too much at dinner, apparently. And apparently Neville fixing your hair after it was sticking up, was too much. You weren’t going to listen to Harry criticize him when he was one of your friends. Once you admitted Neville had been one of your friends, he stormed off to his bedroom. He hasn’t talked to you since, Harry.

You didn't know when Harry was going to talk to you, but by the looks of it, he hadn't planned to. You watched him from the end of the Slytherin table as he flirted with Ginny. Sure, he had always been flirty with other girls; because of course, you two were casual. But he hadn’t flirted like this. He was touchy, way too touchy. And he walked Ginny to every class, and you were sure you had seen them kiss. Or they were about to, you looked before you could watch the rest.

The truth was, Harry wasn’t casual to you. You had feelings for him, real feelings. Countless nights you had cried over his hurtful actions, and then the next day he was sweet. It was a never ending cycle. It wasn’t like you could talk to people about it; you truly kept the secret, not even telling your best friend. You could never bring yourself to tell Harry how you felt, because you were sure he didn’t feel the same. You were sure he just thought of you as casual.

It had been exactly a week, today, since you and Harry had spoken. And you are certain now that he didn’t give a shit about you anymore. It was going to be hard, going to watch the Quidditch match later, and acting like you didn’t support him. Harry knew before whose side you were on, whether or not you were in a different house or not. But that’s what you did; you went to the Quidditch match and pretended you loved that Gryffindor was losing.

The match was intense. It had always been this way for Slytherin Vs. Gryffindor, but today was just different. Harry wasn’t playing like he normally would. He seemed slower on his broom, and he still hadn’t caught the snitch. You couldn’t stop watching him, because every once in a while, his eyes would meet with yours in the stands. The match halfway over, and still neither of the seekers had caught the snitch. But then, Harry spotted it, and he was after it. The opposing seeker was right on his tail though, following him intently. Harry reached out and tried to grab the snitch, but he missed. The Slytherin seeker took a shortcut, suddenly, and cut off Harry. Apparently Harry wasn’t watching very well though, because they bumped into each other. And apparently he wasn’t holding on very well either, because he’d fallen from his broom. The Slytherin seeker smirked, and was off after the snitch once more. You let your hand cover your mouth, listening to the eruptions of whispers around you. You stood on your tippy toes to see Harry sitting on the ground, his hand covering the right side of his forehead. He was okay. He’d just gotten a cut it looked like. You couldn’t resist going to check on him though, even if it was just a little cut. You saw him get up from the sandy ground, and found yourself pushing between people. “Excuse me, sorry- Excuse me,” you said as you made your way across the stands, watching Harry go back into the Gryffindor locker loom. The game looked to be resuming though.

You looked behind you to make sure no one was following you into the locker room, and you saw Harry sitting on the bench with a paper towel against his cut. He looked up, seeing who walked in, and his eyes softened for a split second at the sight of a worried you, and then turned into a glare. It was beginning to be a classic for him. “You know you’re not supposed to be in here, Y/N,” your name was like poison escaping from his lips. “Harry please, don’t act like this.” That’s all you could say, it was the only words you could find. You hadn’t even meant to come off so desperate, but you know you did. He scoffed, flipping over the towel to the clean side. The towel was soaked with blood. “Jesus Harry, let me see,” you said with concern, walking over to him quickly. He didn’t protest, lifting the towel enough for you to see. It was a nasty cut, small, but nasty. You looked around the room for anything as you saw a door with a first aid kit hanging on it. “Come here,” you said, grabbing his wrist. He stood up, but jerked his hand back. “I’m not fucking incapable of walking,” he snapped. You didn’t say anything, you couldn’t.

The room was small, a little bit bigger than what’s considered to be a large pantry. Backed up against the back wall was an infirmary bed, with 2 chairs beside each end. And behind the door was a sink, with a cabinet above it. “Sit down,” you said, grabbing the first aid kit off the door, closing it and walking over to the sink. You looked through the cabinet for sterile saline to clean his wound; unmistakably feeling his eyes watching you. You found the saline, and gauze along with it. You stood between his legs, dabbing his wound with the wet gauze. He winced, and his face scrunched in pain. The pushing together of his skin only made it bleed more. “Hold pressure,” you said, and Harry did as you said. You dug through the first aid kid and found wound closing tape, exactly what you needed. You got a new gauze, wetting it with saline again.

“Harry, we can’t keep doing this,” you broke the silence, trying to get the wound to stop bleeding; “I can’t keep doing this,” you rephrased. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replied, his eyes locked with yours. “I know you don’t give a shit anymore. It’s been obvious for a while. I wish you would just end things properly instead of giving me false hope and then continuing to fuck other girls,” your voice was shaky. This was hard. You applied the tape after his wound stopped bleeding, but you didn’t move from your spot. You only backed up to give him room; and Harry still sat on the bed. “What are you talking about, Y/N,” he raised his voice, his eyes darkening. “Oh please, don’t act like I haven’t seen you and Ginny. Don’t act like I didn’t see you kiss her in the hallway. How many more are there that I’m not seeing,” you scoff, arms crossing over your chest to comfort yourself. “You’re ridiculous,” he said, laughing mockingly. That had done it… he’s just pissed you off. “No YOU are ridiculous. We’re supposed to be casual, but I didn’t know that it came with rules. I didn’t know you would get pissed off when I breathed in another man’s direction. This is tiring Harry, truly. I can’t keep doing this and getting hurt,” you were crying now. Whenever he didn’t say anything, you shook your head, “we’re done,” you said. You turned on your heels, ready to walk out.

Just before you could get the door open, you felt Harry grab your wrist, pulling you back and against the wall. “I don’t like seeing you cry,” he said, cageing you between his body and the wall. Then, you slapped him across the face, and you didn’t know why. You hadn’t even thought about it, you just did it. “It’s your fault,” you spat. His hand came up to the side of his cheek, feeling the hotness your hand left behind. “I’m sorry, Y/N,” he said, his hand now coming to the side of your face, letting his thumb caress your cheek. “No you’re not. This was never casual for me, Harry. I feel things for you… I have feelings for you,” you admit, raising your voice in front of a rather calm Harry. You open your mouth to say more, but he cuts you off with his lips against yours. You push him back as quickly as you could, “Don’t you dare. You’re dirty, Harry. It’s untelling how many other people you’ve kissed in the past few days,” you scream, pointing a finger at him. You were kind of being a hypocrite now. He just engulfs your hands in his. “I haven’t kissed anyone else, Y/N. I haven’t touched anyone else,” he says softly, looking at you with equally soft eyes. “Why do you keep hurting me then? And how do you explain Ginny, ” you ask, sniffling. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to. I just can’t stand to see you even talking to another guy. I feel nothing for Ginny. I swear it was only to make you jealous. I have feelings for you too, Y/N. Can’t you see that?”

Your eyes widen in surprise. You couldn’t even think at that point. You grab his face roughly, smashing your lips against his. He returns the energy, instantly deepening the kiss by squeezing your waist. You feel for the doorknob, locking it. “I’m so sorry,” he said between kisses. “Shut up,” you moan.

He lets his hand slip onto your back, guiding you to the infirmary bed, his lips never leaving yours. Your ass hits the back of the bed, and you moan as his tongue enters your mouth. “Let me repay you,” he says, breaking the kiss just to begin kissing your neck. You moan at his words, “how?” He drops to his knees, looking up at you with big eyes full of desire. You get the message, quickly pulling down your skirt. He groans at the sight of your red, lace panties, “you’re still so perfect,” he whispers. His eyes just looked hungry now.

You throw your leg over his shoulder, letting your thigh rest on the space. You tangle your hands in his hair as he presses a kiss to your clothed clit. “I missed you so much,” you say, lips parting at the sight of him looking up at you. He moves your lace to the side, his wet mouth coming in contact with your clit. You shiver at the coldness, pulling at the strands of his hair, producing a groan from him. The vibrations went straight to your core, causing you to whimper in delight.

This wasn’t the first time he ate you out, and it surely wouldn’t be the last. He loved doing it, and every time he did, he ate you out like it was his last meal. He loved watching your face twist in pleasure, and hearing the sweet sounds leave your lips. It was no different this time.

His tongue worked against your sensitive bud; even more sensitive now from getting nothing for a week. You nearly scream when you feel two of his fingers push past your entrance. “Fuck Harry, just like that,” you whine. Your legs were beginning to become weak from the pleasure. You look down at him and find him watching you, observing the pleasure he was giving you. He curled his fingers in your cunt, and you had to cover your mouth. You feared the people all the way outside, in the stands, would hear you. You bring your free hand up and begin touching your clothed nipples. Harry moaned against your clit at the sight.

“I’m so close, Harry,” you moan, not caring how loud you were being now. He inserted another finger in you, and curled his fingers once more, pushing them in and out. He felt for your sweet spot, until he found it. “Shit,” you moan, throwing your head back. You didn’t know whether to focus on the feeling of his tongue flicking sweetly against your clit, or the feeling of his fingers pulsing into you. Either way, you were close. He knew this already, you didn’t have to tell him. He could feel you clench around his fingers. “I’m gonna-” you came before you could even finish your sentence. “Fuck,” you groan, the feeling of your orgasm overtaking your body. Your legs shook weakly.

After the feeling of your orgasm subsided, you freed your leg from his shoulder, and he stood up, helping you put on your skirt. “Am I forgiven,” he said, a smirk on his face as he licked you off of his fingers. You watch him, heat rising to your cheeks. “I’m going to do better,” he said, pulling you closer to him. “You’re forgiven,” you said, smiling. The sound of celebrating Gryffindors could be heard coming into the locker room. Apparently they had made a comeback. How were you going to explain why Harry’s hair was messed up, and why both of you were red, and why you had taken so long for such a small cut, and most importantly why you were in the locker room.

[chrissturnsfav]

rapper!chris singer!reader are at a party some guy is making singer!reader uncomfortable she tells chris what’s he doing?

⋆.˚✮ rapper!chris doesn't play about singer!reader

the party is in full swing, music pounding through the walls, bass shaking the floor. you’re off in the corner with your friends, sipping on something strong enough to make your chest warm. it’s comfortable and easy—but then...

you notice him first out of the corner of your eye. some guy, tall, loud, one of those guys who think the whole room revolves around him. he’s been circling for a while, and now he’s here, standing too close to you, his voice cutting through your friends' laughter.

"yo, you got a name, or am i just gonna have to call you ‘pretty’ all night?" he says, grinning like he’s some fucking hot shot.

you step back slightly, keeping your smile tight as you ignore the way you cringe at his shitty ass pick up line. "i’m good, thanks."

but he doesn’t back down that easy, leaning in like he owns the air between you. you can even feel his breath on your face, and it makes your nose scrunch up. "don’t be like that. i’m just tryna talk."

his drawl makes your skin prickle, the large and crowded space around you shrinking. you glance across the room, you see chris, manspreading on a couch with his rapper friends along with nick and matt, drink in hand, blunt between his plush lips, laughing at something someone just said.

you know how he gets after a few drinks—more protective, less patient—but you don’t care. you don’t feel safe.

you make your way over, weaving coyly through bodies until you’re standing in front of him. his eyes light up when he sees you, but his smile falters slightly when he catches your expression.

"wassup, kid?" he asks, sitting up straight as he looks up at you, elbows on his knees as he plucks the blunt out from between his lips. his tone is different now, serious.

you nod back toward the guy, not even wanting to look in that direction. "some dude’s being…weird, i dunno. just don't feel comfortable."

chris smirks dangerously, tongue prodding the inside of his cheek. he sets his drink down, his jaw tightening as he looks around the sea of people. "where?"

you hesitate, but he’s already on his feet, towering over you even though he’s not that tall—just commanding. you nod toward the guy across the room, and chris follows your gaze, his eyes narrowing.

"yo, hold this," he says to nick over his shoulder, handing the blunt to his brother—who looks confused, but chris doesn't let him ask any questions before he's on the move.

he crosses the room like he’s on a mission, brushing past people like they’re invisible. you trail behind, far enough to not get in his way but close enough to see everything. chris stops in front of the guy, sizing him up before he even says a word.

"yo," chris starts, voice low but sharp enough to cut through the noise. "sum'n wrong?"

the guy looks confused, glancing between you and chris. "nah, man, nothing's wrong."

"then why the fuck you over here talkin’ to my girl?" chris asks, his tone calm but dangerous. when the guy doesn't respond—processing what's going on and who he's being confronted by—chris scoffs, the same dangerous smirk on his lips again. "you ain't hear what i said, playboy?"

the guy tries to laugh it off, holding up his hands. "i didn’t know she was with anyone."

chris steps closer, and suddenly, the space feels electric. "yeah, aight," he snickers. this guy knows damn well you had a boyfriend. of course he did, everyone knows. "you gonna jus' continue to stand here lookin’ stupid, or you gonna move before i fuckin' make you?"

the guy mutters something under his breath and backs off, disappearing into the crowd. chris doesn’t even watch him leave. he turns to you instead, his hand sliding around your hips.

"you good, mama?" he asks, his voice softer now, his eyes scanning your face.

"yeah, i’m fine," you say, feeling a little more at ease with him so close.

he pulls you in, his lips brushing against your ear. "ain’t nobody messin’ wit' you when m'here. don’t even trip."

you roll your eyes, but you can’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. "you’re so dramatic."

he smirks, pulling back just enough to look at you. "nah, i ain't dramatic," he chuckles, his grip on your hips tightening, hang hovering just above your ass. "ion play 'bout my girl, that's all."

thank you for reading!! <3

tags 🏷️: @sturnobsessedwh0re , @idrk2292 , @mattsbrat , @ribbonlovergirl , @sturnhyyhblog , @matthewsroses , @mattsdemi , @emely9274 , @frankoceanfanpage , @ifwdominicfike , @marrykisskilled , @strnilolover , @cayleeuhithinknott , @forgottxen , @sophand4n4 , @sturnsrecord , @purpledragon222 , @faiyaz555 , @jocelyncsblog , @freakiolos , @slut4chris888 , @chriss-slutt , @ilovedanielcaesar , @annsx03 , @snoopychris , @chrissweetheart , @slutformatt17 , @mattsturnii , @dominicfikeenthusiast

@chrissturnsfav ™

[starkeynation]

Is it casual now? Part 2

Part 1

A/N: The moment you’ve been waiting for🥳 Also this might the cliche fanfic story but im a sucker for it so i hope yall do too!

It’s been two agonising weeks since you broke up with Rafe..well, not exactly broke up cause you guys were never officially “together” as he said. Those words cut deeper than you’d ever admit, and you’ve spent every day since crying into your pillow, moping around your room, replaying every moment the two of you shared. Spending all four months with him really felt like a lifetime, and he’d burrowed into your soul in a way no one else ever had. It was infuriating.

But today, you finally snaps. It’s pointless being sad over someone who never truly wanted you in the first place. So, you took Sarah’s advice and go on the blind date she has been setting up for you.

When you arrive at the brunch place, you spot a guy in a blue polo, golden-blonde hair, decent looking, sitting alone at the table. That must be him, you thought. You proceed to approach him, exchange names and settling into the awkward conversations. Honestly, you don’t even want to be here. You’re just here for Sarah and you just had to get out of your room before you go crazy.

While you’re eating, you spot someone coming in. Rafe, he’s here. He sees you immediately seating with the guy but thank god your date is not facing him, or he could see the death stare Rafe is giving. While the kook in front of you who you don’t really remember his name..Matheo? Matty? is talking about his life, you couldn’t help but keep glancing towards Rafe’s direction. The way he needs to constantly tugs down his sleeve because of his huge biceps, his smooth buzz cut that you miss running your fingers through, his sharp jawline that you used to kiss all over- it’s maddening how much you still want him.

As the brunch date ended, Matt offers to give you a ride back home since Sarah’s the one dropping you off before. When both of you reach his car, he notices that his front left tire is flat. “What the- a flat tire? This was fine earlier,” he says, his brows frown. As he open his car boot to grab the spare tire, you accidentally make eye contact with Rafe from across the parking lot. He’s looking at you with a devilish smirk. You shake your head in disbelief as Rafe enters his car and drive off, “unbelievable,” you mutter.

“What was that?” Matt asks, returning with a tire. You give him a soft smile, “oh, nothing,” you reply. At that time, you know this is Rafe’s doing but how did he even know Matt’s car, your thoughts racing.

Later, when Matt drops you home, he invites you to a party at his place tomorrow night. “Um..yeah I’ll think about it,” you say.

“Alright, text me if you change your mind,” he reply. “Oh and y/n,” he continues.

“Yeah?”

“I just wanna say i had fun today,” he says, with a big smile plaster on his face. You return the smile, “yeah me too,” you say, as you walk in to your house. Matt is nice but to be frankly honest , all you remember from today is stealing glances at Rafe.

The next evening, at the party, you are looking for a drink at Matt’s bar when all of a sudden, you heard a familiar voice coming from behind you.

“Did you enjoy your date yesterday?”

You roll your eyes knowing it’s Rafe. You turn around facing him, “it’s none of your business, but yes, i did, thanks for asking,” you give him a sarcastic smile.

Rafe’s jaw tightens, he leans closer to your ear, “yeah? Well I don’t think he’s good for you,” he whispers.

You push his shoulder away. “Says the guy who slashed out someone’s tire just cause he’s jealous. Real mature, Rafe” you say, your voice filled with sarcasm. You walk away, not letting him talk.

The night pass by, you’re dancing and flirting with your date. You could feel Rafe is staring and observing your every move. You shouldn’t be enjoying this but you couldn’t help but to make him jealous. Suddenly slow music is on and Matt reaches your hand for a slow dance. You lean your head on the side of his shoulder as he place his hands around your waist. You search for Rafe to make sure he sees this. A moment later, Matt caresses your face and leans in for a kiss. You didn’t kiss him back. The kiss feels nothing to you, it doesnt ignite a spark in you, not like when you were with Rafe. The kiss only lasted for a moment when all of a sudden, Rafe grabs Matt by the collar and punches him.

You pull Rafe away from Matt, “Rafe what the fuck,” you shout, as the music stops and the room falls silent.

“I dare you, kiss my girl again and I swear I’ll put you 6 feet under,” Rafe spits, looking at Matt’s direction, ignoring you completely.

Your blood boils. Your whole body burn with anger. You slap Rafe in front of everyone. “I’m not your fucking girl,” you say, your voice low and deep. Gasps ripple through the crowd. Rafe stares at you, stunned. His eyes mixed with anger and hurt.

You don’t even bother to stay there any longer so you help Matt to his room. “I’m really sorry Matt..Rafe’s an idiot,” you apologise as you press ice to his bruise.

“It’s okay, it’s my fault anyways. I wouldn’t mess with you if I knew you were with him,” he replies.

“Well I’m not.”

“You sure? Dont lie, I notice your attention was drawn to him all night,” Matt questions. You go silent, not sure what to reply cause he’s right, you were flirting with him just to make Rafe jealous. “It’s fine..I think I’m just gonna go to bed now. Can you drive?,” he asks. You nod and apologise to him once again before walking outside.

As you walk outside heading towards your car, you feel a hand grabs your wrist. It’s no one else other than Rafe. “Please can we talk,” he says.

You yank your arm away, “was the slap not enough? Or should I give you another one,” you say, your tone cold.

“Ok fine I deserve it..but please, just hear me out,” he replies, his voice filled with desperation.

“What’s more to talk Rafe? You made it very clear that day that we’re casual and you’re not ready for a relationship so can you go and let me be with someone who actually wants me,” you spit back.

He throw his hands to the air, “okay I know I was a jerk, I’m really sorry. God…I’m so stupid for letting you go but that day, after you left all I could think about is you and how I could make things right,” he admits. “Without you my life is literally nothing, it’s quite, but not good quite and so lonely. Please please forget everything I said, I wanna be with you. Give me a chance please.”

Your eyes are getting teary, your head is spinning, you don’t know what to believe. Your tounge is tied and you don’t know what to say.

“Y/n? Please say something..look, I’ll apologise to that guy for the tire, for the punch, I’ll do anything you say but please just give me one last chance. I miss you y/n.”

You shake your head with a tear running down your cheek, “you really hurt me Rafe..I’m sorry I can’t do this right now.” And before he could say anything, you climb into your car and drive off as fast as you can.

For three days straight, Rafe wouldn’t stop. The constant barrage of notifications—texts, calls, it makes you impossible to think. Despite your silence, he keeps begging to meet and talk, desperate for another chance. Things escalate when he shows up at your house, knocking on the door and calling your name. It’s too much. You couldn’t take it anymore.

You storm outside, determined to end this.

“You said you’d do anything for me, right?” you ask, crossing your arms.

“Yes, yes—anything,” he replies eagerly, nodding.

“Okay. Then stop texting me, stop coming here, and just..give me some space, some time.”

Rafe blinks, stunned, but after a long pause, he finally speaks up. “That’s what you really want? He asks.

“Yes that’s what I really want.”

He nods, signalling that he understands and left.

This time, he really does. There are no texts, no calls, no surprise visits. You can tell he’s really trying to prove himself so he respects your boundaries.

Monday comes, and you have to go to work at the country club. You don’t want to cause you know the chance of seeing Rafe there is high but, you can’t pass up the paycheck. As you carry a tray of drinks toward one of the tables, you spot two familiar figures seated together, Ward and Rafe.

You try to keep your distance, but their table is right across from where you have to deliver the drinks. Just as you approach, you overhear Ward’s voice.

“What happened to y/n? I haven’t seen her around lately,” Ward says casually. “She’s the first girl you’ve ever introduced to the family, and, surprisingly, I like her. You were always so happy when she was around. And I’ve noticed you’ve been a mess ever since she’s been out of sight Rafe.”

Your breath catches. The words hit you like a wave, and you nearly drop the tray. Heart racing, you hurry back to the kitchen, trying to process what you just heard. The weight of it all feels overwhelming. You decide to take a moment to clear your head, heading toward the restroom.

Just as you steps outside to return to your work, you bump into someone—hard.

“Oh, sorry,” you mutter, looking up to see Rafe.

He steps aside, about to walk away, but you stop him. “Wait.” Rafe turns, his expression guarded.

You hesitate but can’t hold back. “I didn’t mean to, but I heard what your dad said just now… Is it true? Am I really the first girl you ever brought to meet your whole family?”

Rafe’s face softens. “Yes. You are,” he admits quietly. “And you’re the only girl Wheezie’s ever like. She doesn’t even talk to anyone else.”

Your confusion deepens. “Then why did you say all those things before? I don’t understand, Rafe.”

He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “Because I’ve fallen for you so hard,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. “All the girls I’ve been with—they were nothing. Just hookups. But you? You’re special. And I was scared. Scared that if we were together, I’d mess it all up. I’m not a boyfriend material—I screw things up. But now I realize… I’d do anything to make this work. I’ll try, for you. I’ll become the man you deserve.”

The sincerity in his voice brings tears to your eyes. Without thinking, you reach up and kiss him. His lips feel like home, and in that moment, all the doubt and frustration melt away.

Pulling back, you cup his face, looking straight into his eyes. “Rafe, I don’t care if you’re not perfect. I fell for you—the real you. If you’re a mess, then so am I. I don’t care if you ruin my life or fuck up my nights. I’ll never change my mind about you. I trust you. The Rafe I’ve spent the last four months with is nothing like what everyone else describe you. You’re loveable, caring, and would never intentionally hurt me.”

Rafe wraps his arms around you, lifting you off the ground as he kisses you again. “I miss you,” he murmurs. “I’m sorry for everything.”

“It’s okay,” you whisper, holding him close. “I missed you too.”

He sets you down, his blue eyes searching yours. “Y/N, will you be my girlfriend?”

You smile, tears threatening to spill. “I thought you’d never ask.” You giggle as he pulls you into another kiss, the world fading away around you.

A/N: i fw ruin my life so hard i had to make the ending feels like this song

[toriaanin]

The Skelton Crew

Once upon a time, there was a ship called the USS Lukola. She was a sleek vessel cruising a warm ocean - blue like a certain Irish lass's eyes - and filled with people like me who witnessed and believed in the love, light and energy shone by Nicola and Luke during (heck... even prior to) the Bridgerton season 3 world PR tour.

Unbeknownst to us passengers, the USS Lukola left charted waters and entered the Bermuda Triangle. BaBaBam (imagine ominous music here). Waves started crashing against the hull and over the deck. The ship's navigation equipment failed; the dials on the bridge panel spin spin spinning in counter clockwise, clockwise directions, like in the movies. Eeek! North, south, east, west? What direction was the ship headed?! Not to worry; the crew and passengers knew where they were going - breadcrumbs and morsels led the way, while heavy golden nuggets like the Claddagh ring & the This/That video 🤍 gave the ship ballast to withstand the storm... but they also knew that patience - and sea legs - were required to see them to their destination.

Naturally some passengers didn't have faith that the ship could reach it's destination so they jumped, relying on life vests for survival. In many cases, life boats were deployed (on more than one occasion) taking passengers to shore where they now look out over the water and wishing they'd remained aboard. Some even return. They're welcomed back of course.

And then there's the group that sent an SOS out to an old battleship. They wanted a tough ship. Not just because they imagined it could better withstand the waves, but because they'd shifted alliances and expected push-back from the USS Lukola. Problem! Their new alliance painted a rainbow flag on their hull. "That's okay", they told themselves. "We can't see it from the deck!" (Fingers in ears, eyes squeezed shut all while singing "lalala"). Rather then face reality and head to shore to join those passengers gazing longingly at the USS Lukola, they decided that sinking that darned happy-people ship was the ideal strategy to "win" the best ship prize. So they proceeded to employ battle tactics against the USS Lukola and, as it would happen, Lukola themselves. Most notably Luke.

So we came into Monday, battle worn following a weekend of presumed troll activity, redirection (because really, Ceasefire in Gaza is far more important to focus on! And also because one does not ignore N's patterns), and the fandom's descent onto the TT account of a sad, misguided young woman seeking social media attention and validation. Challenging for us, yes. Even more so for the Newton family.

Naturally, a few more life boats left the USS Lukola over the weekend too. Sigh. Sad to see them go.

And yet, the USS Lukola sails on!

I was telling a friend about how it feels like Lukolas are being winnowed like grain, the wind or a combine shaking our group to remove the chaff. She laughed and suggested a more appropriate ship reference: "What's remaining is the Skeleton Crew!". YES! That was exactly the right description for us!!!

Those of us who remain on the ship are the hearty diehards. We are the ones who belong to group chats, with friends to help support us during rough seas. Amongst our boney selves are the critical thinkers and analysts. We listen only to Nicola, Luke and their trusted allies. Then there are the creatives; those who develop scenarios based solely on the information provided by the critical thinkers and analysts. There are the bloggers here on Tumblr that relay information and theories, and then help us rib cages to hold on tight. I love that we're a fine collective of beautiful bones, supporting one another as we sail towards endgame. Love. We are The Skelton Crew!

Ahoy matey; there be treasure way!!

Proof of our ability to assess information, of our resilience as crew/passengers (not sure about you, but my chat groups are capital S supportive!), and our belief in Luke & Nicola's love came yesterday when that slag-rag DeuxMoi posted photos of Nicola & Jake buying carrots... and trolling the paparazzi. They spotted that photographer, devised a plan, laughed and totally goofed around for each photo!

Did we spiral? Maybe a little at first. Like I said, it was a difficult weekend and we didn't want more mayhem. Then we looked closer and started to laugh! Just like Nicola & Jake, we hammed it up in the ballroom, in the bar's lounge, and on the lido deck!

No, we don't want to have to weather another storm. But we will if we have to. We have each other and we're hardy souls! Well... skeletons! These bones were made for dancing! ☠☠☠

[sturniololuv08]

Sadistic!Matt x Knife

“Love is a dagger"

**This Fic Series will NOT be for people with triggers. This Fic Series will have very descriptive moments of Sadism.**

Sadistic (Sadism - The Act Of Being Sadistic)

Deriving (getting) pleasure from inflicting (causing) pain, suffering, or humiliation on others.

Please Read At Your Own Risk.

Matt was losing his mind. No matter what he did, he couldn't shake the wonder of why you were so wet that night. He had gotten rough with other girls in the past, and they immediately backpedaled. He was back on the web, scrolling every nook and cranny of the dark web, trying to find that website again to buy you. He realized he needed you. Or at least needed to find out if he had accidentally killed you. He had been watching the news for a death in the hotel and hadn't heard anything yet. The link he was sent two nights ago was a one-time use link. So that wasn't an option. He had searched 'submissive' but was only turning up various porn. None of which were good enough for him. He was starting to feel discouraged, but the intensity of the orgasm you caused him was enough to keep him scrolling.

You were fine. You woke up on the mattress with a puddle of cum dripping out of you. Even that made you feel hot again. You just sat there thinking about his face and how intense his dark eyes were as he held the belt. He wanted to hurt you. You wondered if you hadn't even said anything about sex if he would have initiated it himself. You could tell he wasn't there for that. For the last two days, it has been nothing but 'more daddy' and 'yes sir.' You got tired of saying 'harder,' 'more,' or even nothing at all, being that you weren't allowed. You needed him. You got onto your submissive profile and clicked around. Messages were set to expire three hours after reading, so he was already gone. You just had to hope he repurchased you. You sat on your profile waiting for a ping, letting you know someone wanted you. Finally, tired of waiting, you got in the shower. You liked to stay as clean as possible in case someone wanted your services.

Matt was pacing in front of his computer, just losing his mind. The more he thought about you gargling your last breath of air, the more his need for you grew. He plopped down in his chair and started searching again. He had to find you. He had to buy you. After a few more random rabbit hole clicks, he ended up on a porn stream. A guy with a knife cutting a girl strapped to a bed. Typically, he would settle here and start stroking himself, but he found himself wanting to know more about you. He could tell you weren't like anyone else he had ever met. He needed to know what it was. He watched the stream all the way through, logging back in every thirty minutes, hoping he would get sent the same link at the end. His messages pinged. He felt himself rise with excitement.

"Fuck, yes." He clicked the link and scrolled to your profile, knowing exactly where he wanted to go. He filled out the credit card information as fast as he could. He sat bobbing his leg up and down, waiting for your response.

When do you want to meet up?

He felt relief in knowing you weren't dead. He wouldn't have cared too much about your actual death; he just would be worried if it got traced back to him. His fingers tapped his keys, this time knowing exactly what he wanted to say.

Now.

He found himself waiting for your response again, hoping he hadn't scared you.

324 Berry Avenue.

Just like last time, Matt was gathering himself up to leave. As he walked out the door, he saw a slight shimmer from the corner of his eye and looked in its direction, trying to trace the light's refraction. His eyes landed on where it was coming from.

"Perfect." He swiped the object and found himself driving only 15 minutes away from his house. He pulled up to a tiny house he easily could have passed on his way home from work a thousand times. He got out of the car and looked around, trying to make sure no one was watching him. He knocked on the door, and you opened it. Your hair was still a little wet from the shower you had just taken, and you were in a pink frilly silk nightgown, ready for bed. 

You were just going to give up tonight and hope he messaged you at the right time tomorrow, but just as you got out of the shower, you got his message. You were doing something you had never done before in your life: you brought him to your house. Hotels, bars, even in their car, but never have you given anyone your personal address. He stepped in and started looking around, a reaction you expected.

"You really like this shit." He muttered. His voice wasn't cold.

"Excuse me?" You weren't understanding him.

"This pink frilly shit." He elaborated while touching a throw blanket.

"Oh, yes. It's my favourite." You were used to your white, pink, and grey home but forgot others wouldn't be accustomed to your aesthetic.

"Can we just get to it?" Matt was losing his patience.

"Of course." The corner of your mouth curled up. You grabbed his hand and led him into your bedroom. A place you have never fucked anyone before. Your room was your sanctuary, and you never wanted to give it up. But this guy, this guy, was different in every way possible.

"Sit on the bed," he instructed. You sat down. "I need to say something... or rather... ask something before we start." He didn't sound nervous, just unsure of what he wanted to say.

"Okay." You waited.

"How do you feel about like permanent marks?" He wasn't sure why he was asking, but instead of just cutting into your skin, he registered the slippery slope he was on.

"Fine." You shrugged. You wanted him to do anything he wanted to do to you; you had a feeling it was exactly what you wanted.

"Okay." He let out a breath and pulled an object out of his pocket. Your eyes widened, yearning at seeing the sharp silver blade in his hand. You didn't want to make him think you feared his proposed situation, so you blinked and nodded. You visibly saw his pants move at your consent to such a daring activity. "Fuck." He whispered. You leaned back on the bed to show your submission, something you were used to doing. He came walking over to you with a wicked grin on his face. Your fear matched your excitement. "Scoot back." He said at the edge of the bed. You shimmied back further. Your heart was pounding, and you were unsure of what he was planning. The way he wrapped the belt around your neck and squeezed without permission was the darkest, hottest thing anyone has ever done with your body. This time, he had permission; you gave it to him. He put the knife in between his lips as he crawled up your body. Once straddling you, he smacked you across the face. You bit your lips, trying not to smile. He took the knife out of his mouth. "Don't move." His voice was suddenly cold.

You were starting to feel yourself pulse. You stayed still to allow him the access he wanted. He trailed the knife over your silk fabric until it was on your chest. He put the knife back in his mouth. "Is something -" He used both his hands to grab your clothing and rip it straight down the middle, exposing your chest. You jumped at the sudden movement. 

He slapped you hard. He replaced the knife in his fingers. "I said don't fucking move." With the knife, he lightly sliced across your chest. His cock throbbed, seeing the blood spill out. You weren't sure if he wanted you quiet or loud, so you winced, trying to hold in the painful noises you desperately wanted to make. "Ugh." He moaned. He gripped the knife tighter in his fist, looking like he wanted just to stab you in the chest and see your blood spurt out like a fountain.

"More." You moaned on accident. His gaze moved to your eyes in utter shock. You didn't know what to say about your outburst. He took the knife and made another incision. This one is deeper and more painful than the last. He made sure to drag it slowly so you felt every single serrated tip tearing apart your flesh. "Oh my fucking god."

"Yes." His head fell back in satisfaction. You weren't scared; you were turned on. Once you felt the pain settle into a sting, you moaned more. The blood tickled your sides as it trickled down onto your white sheets. He set the knife on the bed and shimmied his pants down, letting his dick spring out. You watched as he used your blood as a lubricant to stroke himself. With his erection stained pink, he moved his legs to open yours, allowing him the room he needed to put himself inside you. He glided in with ease. Again, he noticed how wet you were. It was making his head foggy. As he started moving in and out of you, he dipped his head low to lick a strip of red into his mouth. You couldn't take your eyes off of him.

Every move he made was the most erotic action you had ever seen. He grabbed the knife and made another cut across your chest. You felt him get harder inside you. As you arched your back, you felt the blood shift in its direction of flow. "Lick it." He held the knife near your lips. You hesitantly poked your tongue out. You actually feared him cutting your tongue. He moved the blade down your tastebuds. With your own blood on your lips, he felt himself unable to hold back now. His hips picked up their pace, slamming into you. He did something he had never done before. He bent down and kissed your red-tainted lips. He had never kissed anyone before. He smashed his mouth against your groaning, getting to taste more of your iron. You molded into the kiss following his lead. He used one hand to grab your breast and squeeze. More blood came running out, and the white cells were disrupted by his fingers tracing over the open wounds.

"Fuck me." You cried out. The only thing you needed now was for him to finish you. The pain was euphoric, making you dizzy. He placed his bloody hand on your neck and started riding you like a sex doll. He wasn't squeezing you unconscious this time, but you didn't mind. He looked up into your eyes from watching the blood move around your body. It wasn't until you smiled at him that he knew what kind of person you were. He had finally pieced it together. Your job, your wetness, your excitement for him. You licked the satin red ichor off your lips while he ravaged your pussy. His lust consumed him, but he needed that final thing to push him to his orgasm. He used his free hand to grab the knife one more time. As soon as he held it and saw the fear in your eyes from uncertainty, he felt a little familiar twitch. He took the knife and gave you one more long, drawn-out cut right on your breast near your nipple. This, being a very sensitive spot, hurt the worst. You started to tear up in your eyes.

"Going to fucking cry, baby?" He mocked you. And with that, you came. Your muscles contract on his cock and flood him with lightly pink juices. He liked seeing you cry. The pain bringing tears to your eyes made him ready to cum. He quickly pulled out and aimed for your bloody chest. His cum layered on top of the dark red streaks, making it a shiny, sticky pink. As soon as he was done, he put his clothes back on and started to walk out of the bedroom.

"Wait." You almost whispered, nervous. He stopped walking but didn't look at you. "What is your name?" You had to know. You were dying to know more about him.

"Matt." He said, walking out and closing your bedroom door.

Sadistic!Matt x Masochistic!Reader Taglist:

@mattsturnfx @trevorsgodmother @courta13 @mattscurlygirly @rhearipleyishot101 @matts-girlfriend @sturnzslut @cam1brie13 @skye-44 @sophia-77n @marialovessturniolo @delusionalbri @christophersmiddlefinger @sturns-mermaid @angelic-sturniolos111 @ivrsturniolo @christmastreecake @pair-of-pantaloons @xoxonothingbutu @shadowthesim

To be tagged you have to comment HERE to be added to the list! Will not do random tags because of TRIGGER WARNING CONTENT⚠️

Reblog Instructions: EXPRESS TRIGGER WARNING CONTENT

[saetiate]

a shooting star in his hand - sae x f!reader fluff, first meeting, cafe meet cute

He's been in line for 15 minutes.

Granted, it's not really anyone's fault. You, standing in front of him, have said your order with polite clarity, a gentle smile on your face directed to the barista in front of you that has "TRAINEE" on a metal plate. There's a woman behind her showing her how to steam the milk, telling her to put the bagel in the oven.

Learning takes time. Sae, too, knows this. Most people don't wake up with abilities built into them, not like his brother did the first time they played football together. Sae didn't. He held the ball at his feet almost as soon as he could walk. He let it eclipse his life, rotated around it like the earth does to the sun, until he knew it to perfection, to both creation and destruction.

But he'd appreciate if learning didn't happen when he was the only other person in line on his way to the stadium.

"Sorry about that." You're looking at him. Talking to him, he processes a little too slowly this morning.

He takes in your body language clinically, the way you're tapping your fingertips over the back of your phone case, your tilted head and nervous smile.

The fireburn of irritation behind his eyes falls immediately, like a weight dropped, and the calm lake of his usual demeanor returns. "It's fine."

That's the reassurance he's supposed to give, right? You turn to peer over the counter, and a keychain dangles from the zipper of your bag.

"Blue Lock?" He says it before he can stop himself, more shock than anything else.

"Hm? Oh!" You hold the keychain delicately in your palm, the glean of it catching the light the same way your smile does. "Yeah! One of the guys who was in it lives in my building. He was holding this whole box of merch for the anniversary a couple months ago? He handed me one in the elevator."

"You watch?" You're beaming up at him, but you seem more nervous about your food than you do talking to him. He's trying to see if…

"Oh, nah. I don't really watch sports. Do you?"

So that explains the lack of recognition. "I play."

"Oh! Football? Oh, that's hella cool." Words flow casually for you, an easygoing melody. "I always wanted to get into sports when I was a kid."

The cashier hands you your order with a bow of her head and an apology, and the payment barcode flashes on the screen. Before your bank app can even load up —

There's a beep, and you look up at him with wide eyes and a slack jaw. "Wha- That was my order!"

"I know." He doesn't even spare you a glance, looking directly at the cashier to list off his drink with a monotone cadence.

"Okay, wait, at least let me-" Your bag slides open over your shoulder, a shuffling that he inevitably interrupts.

"No need." It's tart, said with a finality that has you giving a resigned sigh.

"Well, thank you. Genuinely." There's a shift to your bag again in the corner of his eye that he refuses to acknowledge. "If you're not going to take my money, at least take this."

Maybe it's confusion or curiosity that has him finally turning to you, a closing distance that you cross between you both that he has every opportunity to move away from. He doesn't. Instead, he looks down to find there's a card in his hand, a sticky note on top with a number and a name.

"My personal number, if you're single. And my business card, in case you'd like that kind of favor instead." There's that sing-song voice of yours, gentle as the wind, more pleasant than he'd like to admit. "A nice gesture deserves one in return, no? Not sure if it'll come up, but if you ever need someone in this industry, I can be your girl."

Your voice wavers, he notices. Shakes but doesn't stutter. He meets your eyes, gazing up at him with something between both nervousness and surety, or maybe more like bravery despite fear. A vulnerability he never dares to share himself. But on you, somehow, he admires it. Finds it daring — to stand in a moment on shaky legs without a pre-calculated estimation of how it would go.

His girl. Something about it feels like a flicker of fire in his gut, the lap of a flame brushing against the bottom of his heart.

He pockets the note with a nod, grabbing his drink with one hand and rushing out the door with another.

(He calls, that night. With a restaurant in mind and a reservation in place. Sae doesn't believe in serendipity, in fate, in the idea that the universe would grant a prize to him in particular.

Maybe it's just pure luck, falling into place in his life. A shooting star he manages to catch in his hand.)

author's note: thank you for reading and supporting me as always :)) a lil secret message here that i'll be opening requests via a valentines event tomorrow!! in precisely 16 hours from this being posted ahaha so if u like my writing please keep a look out for that!!

[luwritesstuff]

Breaking Point

Spencer Reid x reader

notes: angst/arguing followed by fluff/comfort, gn!reader, no use of y/n

wc: 884

Every relationship had their weakness, the one thing that tested how strong two people really were together. You and Spencer found out months into dating that your relationship's pressure point was exhaustion. It hit you both after two back to back cases across the country in one week, a friend’s wedding on Saturday, and a dinner with your parents on Sunday. By the next week, the two of you were stretched thin.

For you, the exhaustion made you irritable. Things you usually had patience for were getting under your skin and turning you into, quite frankly, an asshole. Spencer somehow had the most patience in the world and this only pissed you off more. Why wasn't he annoyed that your neighbors kept taking up two parking spots? Why was he so calm when you lost power for 12 hours?

As much as you ranted, Spencer listened. He made it a point to be a good boyfriend even on your worst days. This didn't mean that the exhaustion didn't get to him too. Spencer’s lack of sleep brought out his insecurities. The more irritable you got, the more worried Spencer became that he was the one annoying you.

On a normal week, you had more control over your emotions. You were thoughtful about how you spoke to Spencer and you were able to let the small stuff roll off your back. But this week wasn't a normal week and you couldn't stop the anger that kept slipping out of you around every corner. Spencer’s solution was to give you space, but deep down, you didn't want to be alone. Not even on your worst day did you want Spencer not to be curled up on your couch with you.

And how could Spencer say no to you? He wasn't evil, if you asked him to stay, he'd stay. Even if you had a permanent scowl on your face and didn't offer any conversation.

“Spencer!” You groaned, fighting the urge to stomp your foot like a child. “Why do you keep putting your wet towel on top of mine? There's another hook behind the door and every time I go to use my towel, it's wet!” You brought the towel out to Spencer and threw it onto the couch. Before he could finish his apology, you were continuing, “It just drives me crazy, honey. It makes me cold getting out of the shower and-”

“If you hate having me around so much, then why am I even here?” Spencer cut you off, raising his voice in a way you'd never heard directed at you before. Anyone who didn't know Spencer well would see his words as anger, but you knew Spencer well and you could feel the hurt and insecurity seeping out through his voice.

You both froze, staring at each other in silence while you replayed his words in your head. After a beat, your shoulders sagged and you moved to sit on the opposite end of the couch from him. “Shit,” you sighed and grabbed the towel to start folding it, “I'm being mean, I'm sorry. I do want you here,” you promised and looked over to find Spencer staring at his lap.

“It's fine if you don't, just… tell me that. I don't want to keep pissing you off and making things worse,” his voice was calmer now and your heart ached. Spencer, the light of your life, felt unappreciated and unloved, because of you.

You reached out to take both of Spencer’s hands into your own and gave them a squeeze. “Hey, I want you here. I love you,” you emphasized, “having you here helps and I'm sorry I haven't been showing it. This week was just… you know how it was. And my parents just get under my skin, but I shouldn't have taken that out on you. I'm sorry, sweetheart.” Spencer couldn't hold any anger towards you if he tried and the thought made you want to cry. Your Spencer, that you were cold and bitter to, still held your hands tightly and pulled you to his chest after your apology.

“I'm sorry I put my wet towel on top of yours. I know you like having a warm towel after your shower,” he said softly and kissed the top of your head, “and I'm sorry I raised my voice at you.”

You sniffled and shook your head against Spencer’s chest. “No, don't apologize for that. You should've raised your voice at me sooner, I was being a brat,” your voice was muffled by Spencer’s shirt but he took every word in, rubbing your back as you spoke.

After you'd both calmed down, Spencer took you to bed where you both slept a solid three hours. You woke up feeling lighter than you had all week and Spencer felt relieved to have you back to your usual self. “There you are, my beautiful love,” he whispered and brushed your hair from your face.

“You're one of a kind, Spence. Let's not overdo ourselves like that anymore. Next weekend, we’re taking both days off and we’re not seeing anyone but each other,” you promised and rolled over until you were straddling Spencer’s hips. His thumbs traced shapes into your hips and he agreed eagerly by pulling you down into a kiss.

[watcheraurora]

A'right SaYm. The art infected me. Have a **non-canon** (but still fun, hopefully) SkizzPulse one-shot in the King's Tide universe and if it sucks... sorry? never written skizzpulse before so idk i got nothin for ya 2.4k words

CW: blood, underwater violence

—

Impulse's ear fins flicked against the sides of his hair as he and Skizz patrolled in opposite directions. The rest of the glimmer—including Tango for once, while he was visiting for a whole week—was hunting on the reef. Gathering food and supplies now that spring was coming back and the winter's deficit was over. Skizz's powerful whale shark tail carried him easily through the water and Impulse couldn't help but sneak peeks whenever their opposite circles crossed one another.

Skizz knew it too. Of course he knew. Because every time Impulse came back into view, he'd show off just a little bit. Exaggerating the side-to-side motion of his tail and smiling wide. Usually throwing Impulse a cheeky wink. Which usually earned him an eye roll from Impulse that made him cackle.

They had a job to perform, and Impulse was doing his best to not get distracted. He and Skizz, at their cores, were both protectors. It was why they always volunteered to be on watch duty. Tango, Zed, and Pearl would hunt enough for Impulse and Skizz for the week too, to make up for them keeping an eye on the glimmer. They always did—especially when Tango was visiting. He didn't have the raw power Impulse and Skizz did that came from their builds, but he was slim and fast. Apart from Pearl, Tango was probably the fastest merperson in the whole glimmer and he hunted fast and efficiently.

Impulse wasn't particularly concerned about having enough.

He carried on with his watch, ear fins turning and rotating, listening. He could hear sperm whale clicking, but they never came this way, and their clicks could be heard from miles away.

On Skizz's circle, swimming a little deeper, he swished up into Impulse's path and caught Impulse by the shoulders. A quiet, entreating whalesong pitched in his throat.

Impulse rolled his eyes affectionately. "Needy, much?" he signed with a sarcastic brow raised higher than the other one.

Skizz just shrugged and smiled cheekily.

Impulse's ear fins wiggled. "Fine," he signed.

Skizz beamed. He cradled Impulse's head between his hands and pressed their foreheads together, along with the tips of their noses. Lingering there for several long moments. Impulse's gills lifted on his neck as he took a deep breath. Just inhaling the subtle scent of his lover in the seawater. Letting it comfort him.

"You're always tense on watch," Skizz signed when he let go of Impulse's face but didn't remove his forehead. "You need to unwind a little."

Impulse pulled back enough to raise his brow again. "I'll unwind in our grotto later," he retorted.

Skizz waggled his eyebrows. "Say less," he signed playfully.

"Down, lover," Impulse signed. "Later."

Skizz pouted. Impulse rolled his eyes and bumped their foreheads together with a flick of his caudal fin.

A high-pitched trill caught their attention and both their heads snapped to one side. Away from the reef, out toward open water. Impulse pivoted and shot to follow the noise.

He swore on his hands with a single, sharp movement. "Orcas!" he signed to Skizz. "Whole pod."

Skizz repeated the swear and began to sing. A low, thrumming whalesong of warning before chittering to the whole glimmer to take cover and seek shelter on the reef.

Tango was there with Pearl in moments. "How can we help?"

"Keep Pearl safe. Keep an eye on the frys and the elders," Impulse replied.

"No way! We want to help defend," Pearl retorted.

Impulse bared his teeth. "Go. Now! Skizz and I got this."

Pearl's upper lip curled up in a snarl.

Skizz shot out of the darker waters, grabbed both of them by the waists, and hauled them back to the reef before shoving them back, signing fast, and rejoining Impulse at the very edge. "They're not gonna be happy," he signed, using his body to block his hands so Impulse's sister and surrogate brother wouldn't see.

"Too bad. I'd rather them be safe than happy. They'll deal."

Skizz took Impulse's hand for just a moment. "Ready?" he signed with one hand.

"Stay close to me."

That earned him a small smile. "Always... lover."

They turned in sync and rushed away from the reef into deeper, colder waters to intercept the pod before it could get too close to their reef.

Shark gatherings were almost as common as whale or dolphin gatherings, but sharks were nowhere near as dangerous. Orcas were bastards.

But merfolk were even more dangerous. Humans spoke of mammalian intelligence—the reason orcas, whales, and dolphins could beat sharks in conflicts. But merfolk were at the same level of intelligence as humans, and had the limbs and hands necessary to make weapons.

That said, Skizz's claw-like nails were the longest and sharpest of the whole glimmer's and Impulse's teeth could rip through mammalian flesh with ease. They rarely used their spears. They didn't often really need them.

Skizz was big for a merperson. It came with being a whale shark type. Impulse was pretty big too, though nowhere near as long. They were the strongest of the glimmer.

So when they hit the pod of orcas, they hit.

Blood began to cloud the water almost immediately as Skizz's claws tore through the first orca he came into contact with. They didn't want to kill the pod, but they wanted to frighten. Usually that was met with one or two fatalities from the pod. The glimmer would have to clear the reef fast to avoid any sharks that smelled the blood nearby...

But Impulse would worry about that later.

He lifted up above an orca and grabbed it by the blowhole, yanking as though trying to steer it to turn around and clawing with his other hand.

He snarled.

The orcas were screaming.

Another one tried to bite at him, but Skizz grabbed its dorsal fin and pulled, hurling it through the water with the kind of titanic strength that only came from being shark-type. Whale sharks were gentle giants. Skizz was too.

Until he wasn't.

"Hot," Impulse signed quickly.

Skizz shot him a wink and zipped toward another orca.

Impulse did the same, his wide, bright yellow caudal fin churning the water around him.

He grabbed an orca that tried to bite at him by the jaws and held it still long enough to beat at its underbelly with his tail before gouging out some skin with his own long nails. Not quite Skizz's claws, but still sharp and useful. He beat his tail against the wounds and moved to attack another orca.

Skizz caught his hand and slung him forward to bite.

If there were fatalities, the glimmer would make use of the entire corpses. Food, yes, and bones for tools and weapons.

Impulse briefly thought of that as blood filled his mouth as he tore.

He lost track, a bit, after that, of what happened. His brain sunk into attack mode and he turned into the apex predator that merfolk were when their glimmers were threatened. His sister, parents, and brother were back there. His friends.

And he always worried about his lover when they defended their glimmer side-by-side. But he also trusted no one more to have his back.

He shot in a loop around three orcas, clawing and biting and tearing. He was pretty sure his own arm was bleeding—based on how it was burning from the sting of saltwater—but he ignored it. The pod was already in the process of fleeing.

He snarled and growled as the last of the orcas began to leave, baring his teeth and lashing his tail.

Skizz came up beside him, carefully taking his hand and beginning to examine where an orca's teeth had, in fact, cut him. Not quite a bite, but still pretty nasty.

"You need help," Skizz signed with one hand.

Impulse shook his head. "No help. Just you," he replied.

"Fine." Skizz gathered Impulse into his arms, pressing the injured arm to his chest to hold it steady and bumped their foreheads together. Then swam Impulse back to the reef, whistling and singing to catch the glimmer's attention.

Tango, Pearl, and Zed were the first to respond, swimming fast to meet up with them. Pearl's big blue eyes widened when she saw the trail of blood clouding the water.

"What happened?" she asked.

"Orcas are bastards," Impulse signed with one hand.

Tango snickered, but nodded agreement.

"I'm gonna take him home," Skizz signed, also with one hand. "Help him."

Tango and Pearl nodded while Zed just stared, looking a little nauseous.

"We'll get everyone back to the grottos," Tango promised. He tugged on one of Zed's pink arm fins. "Come on, Zed. Let's move."

Zed finally tore his eyes away and went to go gather the rest of the glimmer. Tango was barely a fin-length behind him. Pearl stared between her brother and Skizz for a few moments.

"I'm okay, Pearl," Impulse signed. "I promise. Go help."

She blinked a few times before turning tail. The occasional silver and gold scales in her creamy-white tail flashed off the sunbeams and she rushed after Zed and Tango to go fetch the others.

Skizz gently cradled Impulse closer to his chest and turned to head home.

Skizz chittered in inquiry once or twice. "You okay?"

Impulse nodded. He wasn't that hurt. The only reason he was letting Skizz carry him was to staunch the flow of blood by holding the wounds closed against Skizz's chest. He was a little tired from the fight, but he was plenty strong enough to make the swim home on his own.

Back in the grotto they shared—one of the largest grottos the reef could offer for a pair of lovers, rather than a family, considering Skizz's size—Skizz settled Impulse in their sleeping cubby on the bed of seaweed and rifled through a somewhat makeshift storage container for a wound up wrap of seaweed that was long and flat. Which he used to bind up Impulse's arm.

"Thank you," Impulse signed.

"Anything for you, lover. Always," Skizz replied, bumping his forehead into Impulse's shoulder. "I'll go clear the water a little. Get some of the blood out of here. You rest up."

"My fin is better for that." His was broader.

"It's fine. You rest." Skizz bumped his forehead to Impulse's again and went about cycling the water out of the grotto and the water surrounding it as best he could. Impulse, lying on his left, uninjured, side, just watched with a small smile lingering on his face.

If Tango asked, no, he was not "checking Skizz out" but... damn it was hard not to. Over nine feet long and powerful in a way that was entirely unique to him... Skizz was something else. And Impulse was really lucky. He had all that muscle and the biggest heart in the glimmer all to himself.

"What are you looking at?" Skizz asked gently as he returned to their grotto after clearing the blood out of the water a bit.

Impulse left their sleep cubby to hold Skizz in the larger main area, wrapping his tail around his lover's. His right arm was hurting and sore but he mostly ignored it. "I'm looking at you," he signed, movements small and one-handed as the other wrapped around Skizz.

Who raised a brow. "Why?"

"Because you always look your most handsome after you've been in a fight protecting the glimmer." Impulse nuzzled their foreheads together, just holding his lover close. He wrapped his black tail around Skizz's whale shark one. Skizz hummed low in his throat, content and relaxing as his own arms wrapped around Impulse.

Skizz, his range of motion limited by Impulse's tail, maneuvered them both back into the sleeping cubby and snuggled in close.

"You're not a hugger," Skizz pointed out with one hand and a playfully teasing expression on his face. "So what's gotten into you?"

Impulse shrugged with his uninjured shoulder. "Just want to hold you. You're okay. I'm okay. The fight wasn't that bad."

"Were... you scared?"

"I'm always worried when we get in a fight. I trust you to watch my back but that doesn't stop me from worrying about you."

"Why?"

"You're reckless." Impulse bumped their foreheads together. "I don't want you to get hurt."

Skizz's piercing blue eyes dropped to the seaweed wrapped around Impulse's arm. He raised his eyebrows pointedly and then met Impulse's yellow gaze. "I'm not the one bleeding," he pointed out.

Impulse just shrugged.

Skizz held him tighter with one arm. "It drives me crazy, seeing you hurt. You're mine. I wanna protect you too."

"I know." Impulse finally relaxed, snuggling in and resting his head against Skizz's chest. Skizz tucked him under his chin and buried his nose in Impulse's warm brown hair. Closing his own eyes. He could feel Impulse's heartbeat, the vibration of it traveling through the water easily.

Home. Safe. Loved.

Impulse drifted off to sleep, the gills on his neck lifting and lowering with his breaths, cradled in the arms of the merman who he knew loved him more than anyone else in all the vast oceans.

—

Skizz felt Impulse fall asleep and sighed with a stream of bubbles trailing out of his mouth toward the top of the grotto. He never told Impulse how badly it grated against his protector instincts to allow his lover to protect the glimmer and the reef alongside him. Impulse was stubborn and he'd do it anyway, even if he did know. Skizz just wanted the people he cared about—and especially his favorite person, currently wrapped in his arms and tail—to be safe.

He also knew Impulse was right. The two of them were the biggest and strongest in the whole glimmer. They were the best at protecting it and they worked together well. They always had each other's back.

That didn't mean Skizz enjoyed watching his lover get hurt.

He bumped his forehead to the top of Impulse's head.

Even in sleep, Impulse bumped his own forehead to Skizz's chest.

Smiling, Skizz closed his eyes and let himself finally relax. Not quite sleeping—he had to keep an ear open toward the glimmer's waters in case anyone else needed help—but beginning to doze in and out with his lover held close.

you know, im not sure ive ever drawn art for a fic, featuring a ship thats not even in said fic. However i was posessed by the skizzpulse demons and i just loved drawing @watcheraurora's kings tide designs so much i couldn't help myself 🤭

close up under the cut vv

[ecstarry]

'Kiss and Stab' microfic for @v7lgar & @del-stars

“Will you stop playing with that?” Regulus took away the small knife Barty had been playing with for the past hour. 

It was fine at first, before they had both chugged an alarming amount of beer. Not something Regulus had planned on doing, but finals were over and break was just around the corner. 

Barty never needed an excuse. 

“I don’t trust you with such a dangerous weapon,” Barty teased. He pushed Regulus against the brick wall just outside the pub, pressing the blade slightly against Regulus’ tender skin. 

It was a Tuesday, no one else was around that late at night. He expected Regulus to push him, huff, tell him to piss off, yet Regulus was not only silent but blushing. 

That was not the first time they had been this close, not alone and not even in public. Barty didn’t move, getting a reaction out of Regulus was uncommon, he needed to understand what had turned Regulus’ cheeks such a divine hue of pink. 

Regulus cleared his throat, his gaze traveling to the knife pressed against his neck, just above his collarbone. 

Fuck. 

“Really? A fucking knife kink?” 

Regulus grinned at him, clearly too drunk to care. He opened his mouth and stuck his tongue out. An invitation. 

Barty, just as pissed and with a bulge forming underneath his pants, followed directions. He took the tip of the knife and traced the outlines of Regulus’ lips, he watched adoringly as the chest of the man in front of him kept rising and falling, almost panting. 

“You get so-” Barty stopped in a halt as Regulus traced with his tongue the same path around his lips the knife had just traveled. 

Barty felt lightheaded, all his blood went down his fucking cock as Regulus continued the show. Barty had wet dreams that started just like this, but nothing compared to the sight of Regulus Black letting out the hottest, sweetest noises as his pleading eyes asked for Barty to press the knife directly against his tongue. 

He was weak, and horny, and fucking desperate. Regulus fucking moaned, right against the metal, the noise went straight to Barty’s dick. 

“Give it to me.” Like an obedient dog, Barty obeyed and handed it immediately. He didn’t care what Regulus wanted to do with it, he just needed to touch him. 

Regulus stepped on top of Barty’s shoes, grabbed his chin and pulled Barty’s face down, “Kiss me.” 

Barty’s hands were greedy, he grabbed Regulus like he had always wanted. They wandered under his shirt, he wanted to remember this moment, he desperately tried to be present. It might’ve been the beer, maybe the power trip of holding a knife against Regulus, or just the feeling of Regulus fitting perfectly between his hands, but Barty was losing his goddamn mind. 

His mouth traveled from Regulus’ lips to his ear, down to his neck, nibbling on the skin, wanting to mark him, even if just for one night. 

“Barty,” Regulus whined. He leaned into Barty, his arms around his neck, begging to have him closer. 

“Yeah?” He pulled back slightly, he wanted to see the lust behind Regulus' gaze. 

“More.” 

“Reg.” Barty was trying for once to not fuck everything up, he didn’t want to be a mistake. But Regulus wanted him, finally. 

Regulus took out the knife from his pocket and pressed it against Barty’s collarbone. “Please.” 

“Jesus fucking Christ, I get the knife kink now.” He tried to catch his breath. “But we can’t, Reg.”

Yet Regulus pressed harder, a dot of red coming out of Barty’s skin. He stayed still, too lost in whatever was happening to stop Regulus as he brushed his fingers against the wound he had just made, collected the blood with his finger and licked it. 

“Let’s go.” 

“Mhm.” 

He had no more fight in him. He wanted Regulus and he wanted him now. 

[happyflowey]

He grabs onto the SOUL. The feeling of it beating immediately fades from Corrupted's perspective but Happy feels it fully and completely now. He opens the compartment and stares at it.

He makes a face at the picture of the door in it but he looks back at the beating heart with a relief.

* Thank you........ It's amazing how one of these still actually survived. But.... I guess it's amazing that I'm still here to begin with anyway.

* I think I'll be fine... I...

.....

* I think.

* This is going to work. It has to work.

He would approach the BODY.

* .........

And stare at it.....

*..................

*............................. Yeah I have no idea what the fuck I'm supposed to be doing here, pal.

* I mean, the plan was to come here so we could get the BODY and make.... so I could I guess become ONE but I have no idea what the SOUL even wants me to do at this point.

He holds out the locket and turns to look at Corrupted, opening it again.

* Like what? No special instructions now? You're not gonna push me in the direction of the damn dead thing, pal? What's-

Suddenly as he said that, the BODY lunged at Happy, grabbing on to his stem and it immediately in one swoop, bite into Happy's head.

And in a complete instant, Happy's head was gone.

The stem falls lifelessly onto the floor, his vine hands go limp.

And the Body starts to climb out of the coffin. Grabbing the Soul Locket from the floor.

[ Corrupted would Turn and Walk into the Void-like Darkness as Happy Decided to Join Him. The Quiet Wind… the Dark… it was like Home… and Yet, so too were the Bricks and Weeds, in a Way. A Physical Merge of Two Memories. It Felt Strange. He would Stop Thinking on it as His Beloved Spoke up with a Small, Sad Kind of Smile. ]

[ He would Nod Solemnly at the Question. There was No More to be Said. This was it. ]

[ A Small Shock would Hit Him as They Slowed to a Stop just Before a Coffin… and… a Body. These Things Always Tended to be Here, Often Disturbed for Specific Reasons, but it was Surprising Nonetheless. The Pink Fluid was Particularly New, Though He had Seen it Before, and Thus to Him it was Akin to Blood. Corrupted would Focus on Happy’s Voice, Despite being Obviously Fixated on the Body… Happy’s Body Across from Them. ]

[ …What He had Managed to do… ]

[ The Statement would Make Corrupted Turn to Happy. Silent, Still. ]

[ They did have Everything They Needed. No Substitutions Required. He Knew Exactly What Happy was Asking for. ]

[ The SOUL. ]

*…

*…I Think… I Think You Will Manage to do it, Dear… This Plan… could Work… just…

*…Just…

*…

*…Just Know I Will be Here the Entire Time, Okay? If Anything goes Wrong… I Will Figure out a Way to Make it Work.

[ He wasn’t Sure What More to Say. He just Hoped it was Reassuring. ]

[putschki1969]

Kalafina Anniversary Live 2025 Report

It's finally here, sorry for the long wait!! Let me share some overall thoughts first( ^_^)/~~~

Venue: Probably the newest and fanciest venue I‘ve ever been to. Loved all the screens with Kalafina visuals. They had them across the entire area, some bigger, some smaller and a really big one in front of the venue itself. The theater appeared to be a bit intimidating at first glance but I actually appreciated the layout, I feel like you got to have a pretty decent view from most places, even in the upper balconies.

Collaboration events: This one was somewhat of a fail for me. Originally, I wasn’t too impressed with most of the collaboration food but I was still eager to get it, especially the stuff that was wrapped nicely. The chocolates looked lovely but they were already sold out when I arrived at 11:00 on the 15th.🥲Was also planning to get the katsu sandwich in the Kalafina packaging but that was sold out as well. Not afraid to admit that I cried a little when I realised I woudn't be able to get them...I did get one of those gorgeous tray sheets at Taco Bell at least🙌 Managed to secure one of those tiny photo cards too but meh, honestly nothing to write home about. Gave me the opportunity to write something on the message board though so that’s a good thing 👍 The whole gacha situation was a challenge to say the least. So exhausting! I got a numbered ticket (#127) for the queue so I could start lining up at 13:30 (was actually one of the first people to enter). This worked out pretty smoothly and everyone was able to enter earlier than expected. At first I was lining up in the wrong queue because they were telling people they had to go through the on-site merch sale area first. Thankfully, a staff member came over and guided me and some others to the direct queue (after all, I wasn’t planning to buy any merch since I had already made my reservation). My first gacha round didn’t take too long since most people were still busy buying merch and there were a total of ten machines (also had prepared my 500 yen coins the day before so I didn't have to line up to change my money). I was moderately lucky but didn’t get some of the items I wanted🙃 So after I picked up my live goods during my assigned time slot, I got back in the queue to do a second gacha round😅. This time the wait was long, probably an hour or so. Also, 10,000 yen just gone☠️Thanks to @concretebadger and my super kind friend, I managed to get the complete set! BANZAI🤗 I also got two lovely tokutens for participating in the big flower stand project (a postcard and badge of the drawing). Almost didn't get to meet up with the organisers of the project but thankfully I ran into them right before the start of the show (generally, I find it fascinating how many people I managed to run into despite the sheer amount of people at the venue - thanks to everyone who said 'hi').

Seat: I really liked my seat and am glad I went for the balcony area. Had a completely unobstructed view of the stage🥰It was a little further away of course but I did bring my binoculars so it was fine.👍 In my vicinity people were thankfully not very keen to stand up all the time so I had one less thing to worry about. The screens on the side were also a perfect size to see their facial expressions. The people in charge of the projections made sure to include a lot of close-ups 😍 Bless them!

Sound: Maybe it was just my specific location towards the left side on the balcony but the sound system was a bit off I think, or possibly the manipulator did a horrible job with the mixing? How did everyone else feel about this? The background music was often overly loud (if not to say obnoxiously noisy) and drowned out the vocals. During some parts, it was honestly hard to hear the girls among all the other noises. It was much better during songs that had a more simple or acoustic arrangement. The microphones seemed to have some issues too at times because there were a few distortions (?) which made their voices sound different (?) and occasionally, you just couldn’t hear them singing the beginning of certain lines - this could theoretically be chalked up to them being hesitant and starting too quiet (Wakana does that at times) but it happened a little too often to all three of them which is why I‘m assuming there might have been some technical issues.

Vocals: What are seven years? Nothing! It was like no time had passed at all! Some people may disagree but for the most part, the girls sounded amazing to me! I thoroughly enjoyed myself and very rarely heard notes that made me cringe. I was amazed how they managed to just pick up where they left off. Of course there were parts that were less flattering and they had some of their usual hiccups but I feel like they handled everything pretty well. Have they done better and more polished live renditions of some of these songs in the past? Probably (tho there were some stand-out performances that impressed me more than their old versions). Overall, there was clearly a lot of effort and love put into each and every performance and at the end of the day, that's all that counts for me. They didn’t “phone-in” their singing, they put all their heart into it and you could tell. I even liked songs that I am usually not such a huge fan of (e.g. “ring your bell” and “ Alleluia”). Also, say what you will but there’s a huge contrast between the YKL Kalafina covers and the real thing, it’s almost jarring how different they sound so I particularly appreciated performances of the songs that had previously been covered at YKL. Needless to say, I much prefer the real thing! It's just not the same without Wakana and I must say, Wakana delivered solid vocals during most songs that required those super high and long notes. Hikaru also did a great job and sounded powerful throughout most of the setlist. She was getting visibly tired though towards the end of the up-beat section (Wakana on the other hand surprised me with her stamina). As for Keiko, do I even have to say it? She delivered a fabulous performance as one would expect from her. She nailed all her epic long notes (e.g. “Hyakka Ryouran”, “Kyrie”, “Hikaru Furu” - she sounded better than she did during the 10th Anniversary Live if you ask me)

Production & arrangement: Honestly nothing special or outstanding. They kept it simple and remained faithful to Kalafina’s usual M.O. The focus was on their voices and there wasn’t anything extravagant to distract from that. On the contrary, I feel like there was a conscious effort being made to include more acappella parts to highlight their harmony. With the exception of a few instrumentals and solos, I don’t think Satoshi Takebe added a lot of creative twists to change the original sound. He even mentioned in a tweet that he wanted to pay tribute to Yuki Kajiura’s work, stay true to her music/style and not make it his own or anything. On this note, I would like to add that YK's absence was not really an issue. As I have mentioned a few times already, YK has rarely been an integral part of their live productions so her not being in charge of this concert, has done nothing to affect its quality.

Atmosphere: 1000/10. The girls were in such a good mood and determined to make this concert the best experience ever. It really felt like they had never been apart. Their interactions with each other were heart-felt and didn’t come across as staged or forced. You could tell how much they missed performing together. The audience was also super responsive and everyone seemed to have the time of their lives (myself included of course).

Setlist: Admittedly, it wasn’t what I had hoped for but it was pretty much what I had expected from this sort of live so I can’t be mad. And there were a few really pleasant surprises that I didn’t think they would include (“Hanataba”, “Lacrimosa”, “Kyrie” and “Hyakka Ryouran”) so YAY for that. Also beyond happy that they did an acoustic version of “sprinter” because that’s so much better than the studio version (which I typically don’t like). Same goes for "KnGnN". Check out a detailed report below the cut 〈(•ˇ‿ˇ•)-→

1 oblivious: I knew it was coming and it’s usually not a song I’m particularly fond of but this performance may have been the best one I’ve ever heard (biased opinion but hey, you can’t blame me for that😅). The song kicked me right in the feels! Or maybe it was just like a dream come true to hear/see them together again! When they appeared on stage, they looked like angels. What a revelation to see them in all their glory once the sheer curtain was dropped. They sounded amazing, absolutely breathtaking! Was impressed by everyone’s vocals. Shout-out to Hikaru for her high notes! For a few lines in the beginning, Wakana didn’t quite sound like herself (the distortion I was talking about earlier?) but I am not sure if it was a lowered pitch or something the manipulator did on purpose to smooth out her voice. It sounded okay and wasn’t too distracting so I didn’t mind it. Later on, her voice sounded like it usually did during “oblivious” so maybe it was just a glitch or whatever. When Wakana and Keiko did their little back-and-forth duet thingy, I almost started crying because I had missed them so much. WaKei FOREVER 🤗

2 Kizuato: A bit bummed that they didn’t perform “Kimi ga Hikari ni Kaete Iku” (then again, I might have died instantly so it was probably a good thing) but this was a beautiful performance so I can’t complain. The three of them once again sounded amazing and their harmonies were to die for.

3 Mirai: Typically one of their weaker live performances and this was no exception. But really, it’s about getting that connection with the audience, running around on stage, greeting the audience and having fun. I don’t mind if it’s not polished and I usually don’t even pay attention to that during this song.

4 Hikari no Senritsu: Felt a bit all over the place so I wasn’t quite able to get into it. The music was overbearing at times and it took away from the charm of a few individual lines. I expected to be touched by the performance since Keiko had been going on and on about how this was her favourite song to sing together but I didn’t have a particularly strong reaction to it. To be fair though, it has never been one of my favourite songs so that might have been the reason for my rather lukewarm reaction. An interesting cello solo from Masateru spiced things up a little but otherwise, there weren’t any significant changes.

5 storia: For this one, I always keep my expectations low regarding vocals because I know it’s a hit and miss when it comes to Wakana and Hikaru. It’s been like this forever so I’m not surprised to hear them struggling at times. Nevertheless, this is a song I have always enjoyed so I can easily look past minor issues. As expected, the girls did struggle a bit (Hikaru in particular didn't deliver the most flattering performance) but it was totally fine. That final chorus once again caught me right in the feels, especially the WaKei part🥹Both the YKL cover and Wakana's solo cover are still fresh in my mind so to finally hear the song as it is meant to be, feels like such a blessing.

6 ring your bell: The piano intro was a bit misleading and for a couple seconds there, I seriously thought they would be introducing a brand new song 😅 It was a nice touch though, I do enjoy intros like that (probably Takebe's idea). Surprisingly, I liked this performance more than I thought I would. I usually give this one a pass because I don't care for the unflattering vocals. I've never understood why it keeps getting performed when it is such a challenging song. But this time, I honestly enjoyed almost all of it (especially Wakana's parts at the end- she did a great job here). Those YK cover versions pale in comparison if you ask me.

7 Hanataba: What a surprise! 😮 Possibly one of their best (if not the best) performances of the night. Usually not a fan of the accordion but here I didn’t mind it. They made some minor changes to the arrangement to highlight the accordion and the vocals. The girls were on fire, especially Hikaru. You could tell she was happy that her chosen song made it onto the setlist.

8 Lacrimosa: From one surprise to another. I was actually expecting them to sing “Consolation” at this point because according to the previous MC, this was meant to be their “Consolation” album block. Would have been happier with “Consolation” to be honest but “Lacrimosa” was a nice treat too. The background music was quite loud again so some vocal parts weren’t discernible or got overshadowed by other stuff.

9 Manten: I don't remember much from it so it must not have stood out to me.

10 to the beginning: Never liked it but this time, I had a blast. A fantastic performance with so much energy and love put into it. The audience went crazy of course so that was also fun to watch. While I personally do not stand up for songs and categorically refuse to partake in any weird arm movements (clapping is the most I will do), I still think it's nice to see everyone so invested.

11 Kimi no Gin no Niwa with strings: This was beautiful. Just strings and piano, might have been my favourite rendition of all time (and I am usually not even such a huge fan of the song). Quite a few more acappella lines than usual I think. Gorgeous arrangement.

12 sprinter with strings: What can I say? Perfect. No notes. Tears everywhere. So glad they decided to go for an acoustic version (by now we all know how much I dislike the studio version). It wasn't as emotional as that Arena Live encore performance but for me, it came pretty close.

13 Hyakka Ryouran: Became a big fan after the 10th Anniversary performance. Didn't expect them to include it once again in the setlist but I certainly didn't mind. This one was just as solid I would say although I feel like Keiko was actually a bit stronger here than she was back then, especially during her "yaiba".

14 misterioso: Meh, one of my least favourite Kala-songs but coincidentally, one of their most frequently performed tracks. I have always wondered why but I guess there are a lot of people who love it (especially in the anisong community). Wasn't really into it so I don't remember anything significant.

15 One Light: Super happy about it. A perfect candidate for their up-beat corner and really a true banger. Don't think there has ever been a bad performance of this, they always slay. I believe they missed the mark a little on that moment where they all come together to raise their arms right before the climax. It felt a little rushed so the cameras for the screen didn't capture it properly XD (it was probably fine for those in the front rows who could see every detail up-close). Either way, the audience erupted into cheers when Hikaru did her infamous "yukeru" kneel.

16 Kyrie: Wooohoo, one of my favourite Kala-songs so I am always excited to hear it performed live. Certainly a surprise though because I didn't think it would be chosen for their Anniversary Live setlist. The audio was pretty messy during this one and I was sad to hear that Keiko's drawn out "Kyrie" at the end didn't get as much attention as it deserved.

17 Ongaku: It started out a little weird in a slightly different tempo than I am used to (at least I think so?). It was a minor thing but big enough to distract me a little for a minute or so. Keiko slayed though and Super!Wakana knocked it out of the park (loved how Keiko held her hand when she helped her walk up the stairs for the solo)

18 heavenly blue: A long-ass up-beat section comes to an end with another banger. After this one, Keiko even said that this was one of their most challenging corners they ever did. It's always fun when Keiko asks the audience after "Ongaku" if we can handle yet another up-beat song (of course we can!) and they transition right into either "Signal" or "heavenly blue" (pretty much their go-to songs for an epic ending). I do love "heavenly blue" so I am happy they included it. The background vocals during the bridge were a little too loud for my taste so you couldn't hear the girls properly (the bridge is one of my favourite parts of the song).

19 Alleluia: There was no doubt in my mind that they would either finish the main section or the entire concert with this song. Didn't expect to love the performance as much as I did. Usually not the biggest fan of the song since Wakana's parts are not particularly flattering for her and even Keiko tends to get a little shouty at times. But this time, I rally enjoyed the song and the minor issues didn't really register with me all that much. Guess I was just too deep into the emotions they were trying to convey.

En1 Magia: So glad they included this! I always thought it was a shame that it didn’t make it onto the 10th Anniversary setlist. We heard a lot of YK cover versions in the past couple of years (to a point where I was getting a little tired of the song) but this revived my love 😍 So good!! The guitar solo sounded weird to me and didn’t have a proper transition to Keiko’s bridge part but that might just be my personal perception. Maybe the guitar fans among you thought it was great😅Keiko’s solo also lacked a bit of oomph but I think it was her microphone’s fault 🙃Hikaru sounded a bit quiet too at times. Hopefully they can fix those minor issues with some studio magic before they do the TV broadcast.

En2 Hikari Furu: Another elaborate piano intro (different from the ones that Sakurada used to do) but this time it was pretty obvious they would sing "Hikari Furu" so I didn't have to guess. Unfortunately, the song sounded a little meh vocal-wise, certainly one of their messier live versions and overall, one of the least enjoyable performances of the night for me which is a huge shame because this is one of my all-time faves. Lots of things came together here so I can’t put the blame on a single factor. For some reason, their voices wouldn’t blend well together and both Wa and Hi had a few too many screechy moments. Wakana sounded almost hoarse when she started singing (maybe she got a little emotional?) and at the end she had some very noticeable shaking during her long notes (I know she has that a lot for her solo stuff too but I didn’t really notice it all that much in other songs from that night but here it was hard to ignore). The background music was also quite loud during the climax of the song so it didn’t exactly help to make it sound better. Keiko delivered an awesome "mabushii asa" though.

En3 into the world: Perfect ending to be honest and again, nothing beats this, not even a YKL cover (although I will say that I enjoy those too). It was kinda bittersweet though. Obviously this song is about taking new paths, not knowing what lies ahead. And really, this is what we have to deal with right now.

At this point, the future is blurry, no one knows what will happen to Kalafina. The girls didn’t even hint at any possible future activities. There was just an endless amount of appreciation for the past and present. Every time one of them thanked the fans for patiently waiting for Kalafina’s return, I couldn’t help but tear up a little. Yes, the wait was rough and I am sure many people lost hope along the way but I personally always knew we'd see them back together again. And when Wakana straight up broke into tears during an MC (with Keiko comforting her and shielding her from the cameras), I cried like a baby (especially when Wakana cried even harder and made Keiko tear up too) 🥲 All the pent-up emotion just came to the surface. Hikaru on the other was determined not to cry throughout the whole concert. They are too precious for this world!! I really hope they don't cut this moment from the broadcast (but knowing them, they probably will). For the time-being, I’ll just follow Keiko’s advice and continue listening to Kalafina and love them🥰Who knows, maybe one day…? I'll never give up hope and I don't think the girls will either. While she didn't outright say it, Keiko couldn't help but utter a few hopeful words, more like a prayer actually, "叶うならまた~/And if my wish would come true, maybe [we can do this/sing together] again~" It was an amazing concert, I had the time of my life and will treasure those memories forever. Thank you Kalafina!!

Cannot wait for the TV broadcast to experience all of this again and to relive every little detail. I should have written the report right away (or taken some extensive notes) when my memories were still fresh but my schedule for the following days was simply too busy. Now I'm back home and fighting against a jet-lag so the finer details are escaping me T_T (I feel like I am getting a few things mixed up and don't even know which things happened in which MC)

[sunny-mercya]

Unwanted Attention

Poly! Billy Loomis & Stu Macher x Male Reader

Fandom -> Scream 1996

Requested by -> @malertop

Masterlist

You breathed out in relief when the bells rung for lunch break, three hours of math always felt like a death sentence and tedious to listen to they were as well—making your brain feel like mush.

Someone had placed an arm over your shoulder and you don't even need to look who it is, because Stu is the only person who do this whenever you're on your way outside—always finding his way through the crowd to accompany you to the usual spot, where the rest of your little group would meet up for lunch.

Today, as Stu leads you in another direction, it seemed to be a different place though, trying to remember if you had been ever at the fountain at all in your school history of breaks—probably not and you don't care enough to question it.

Topic of today was the death of Casey and her boyfriend, with Stu making a terrible joke about it—but that's Stu being himself—and you shrugging your shoulders, in almost nonchalantly, when Tatum had asked you how you feel about it—and in honesty it's a feeling of zero, because you don't know Casey personally to feel sad about her death, sure it's tragic—deaths are always tragic—but that's all.

Sidney, you know how such things affects her, wanted to disagree with you about this—raised her brow in question though, when the new transfer girl came walking over and sitting down next to you without a greeting.

Lori, you believed her name was, had moved from Santa Ana to Woodsboro and she's already a big talk through school and that's only because she had not only annoyed Heather Westcoast—Cheerleader Captain and a good friend of yours—on the first school day, setting her off in seething resentment, but Lori also had upset the whole Sports teams of Woodboro high in one go.

Even so, with her negative reputation she had gotten—and her high arrogant attitude, which even Heather (who could be quite arrogant herself when wanted) and most popular girls hated—a bit, really just a bit, uncomfortable close to you.

You're fine with specific people, like your closed friends, siblings or boyfriends, sitting so skin touching close to you, but strangers is where you drew a line—where you getting goosebumps of unease.

And Lori sitting so close was not enough, no, she cages your arm with her own—interwoven her fingers with you—pressing her boobs against you and getting even more close than before—starting to talk like a waterfall, long manicured finger sometimes tracing over your face or she touches you on places you definitely don't want to be touched by a girl at all—like your thighs or stomach—but Lori doesn't seemed to care.

While you still tried to tell her off—your voice a bit too soft to be heard over Lori's rambling—there's various perplexities among your friends faces, because how dare the girl to do such pesky gestures when it's widely known that you're in a relationship (although of who your boyfriend is, is still a secret to be discovered) and Lori should be glad that Heather nor Percy (two of four people who are quite protective over you) are here to see this, but Tatum for sure will them later, otherwise Lori is bound to get some nasty bruises and a much more worse reputation.

»Oi, Bimbo! Make some space.« spat Stu, placing himself—oh you could definitely tell that Stu Macher was jealous—between Lori and you, which you were so thankful though, breathing out in relief.

»Excuse me?! I was in the middle of a conversation!« not only did you, but also Sidney and Tatum, cringed at the high screeching sound of Lori's voice and god knows she could reach such vocal heights.

»What conversation? You were the only one talking!« interjects Tatum, red lips going into a scowl and there's a minimal narrow of her eyes.

Bill was glaring as well, having gotten up from his spot and standing now in front of Lori and you, arms crossed.

»That's a conversation isn't it? I'm talking is the whole point of a conversation.« claims Lori, about to grab your hand again—but Stu was quicker, much quicker, draping his arm around your shoulders—just like he had done before—and pulling you close, sticking his tongue out at Lori in triumphing smugness.

»You bother [Name].«

»I do not! He would have told me, wouldn't he?«

»[Name] did asked you to leave him alone, like three times already. So I'm gonna say it again and for once and final, fuck off.« with the way how Billy said it, demand it even, you could tell he's a bit pissed off.

Lori seemed to understand the message, getting up, scoffing—flipping her long hair from her face and behind—she walks away.

~~~•~~~

It's way over midnight when you had fallen asleep during the movie session, laying back to chest against Stu, who holds you close in his arms.

You normally don't fall asleep easily throughout movies, but with what happened today it did have taken some energy out of you, making you unfocused and doing things you shouldn't do—like wanting to shower with your clothes on or drinking a weird mix of Coffee, orange juice and soda or waking up minutes after falling asleep, just to shout about late for school.

»How did it went?« asks Stu, when Billy had come back into the living room—carefully moving you a bit, to sit more upwards.

»I gave the bitch a good scare. She think about bothering [Name] anymore.« it would have been way to obvious to kill Lori right away, but a good scare tactic was just as effective.

Billy takes your sleeping form out of Stu's arms, carrying you upstairs to the bedroom—laying you down in the middle before Billy himself and Stu joined in and caging you in between them.

Maybe if Billy agreed to make their relationship public known, Lori wouldn't have tried to get so damn close to you, but Billy back then didn't wanted that and ever since it's a bit hard for them both not to touch you too much without making it obvious.